recommendations for enhypen, &team, txt, and seventeen
⋆.˚ ENHYPEN
heeseung
ꕀ make you mine by @intromortal ⋮ wc 1.8k ♯ smut, jealous!heeseung, toxic situationship, jealous sex
ꕀ was it casual? by @mssishipi ⋮ wc 12.3k ♯ angst, smut, fubu, heeseung is lowk an asshole, ft sunoo, shower sex, love some angst
ꕀ player rank: platinum by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 30k ♯ smut, sister's boyfriend trope, simp gamer!heeseung, cheating/infidelity, gobsmacked after reading this one
ꕀ color coded by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 8.7k ♯ smut, dom!heeseung, open minded sub!reader, reader has an explorative nature/curious, the ending lowk made me kick my feet
ꕀ making progress by @arelyvn ⋮ wc 28.7k ♯ college au, smut, slight angst, nerd!heeseung/pathetic!heeseung, he's an inexperienced sweetheart, this was cute
jay
ꕀ happy hotwifing by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 18.9k ♯ smut, husband jongseong x afab reader x voyeur sunghoon, threesome, look at the tags yourself i just.. leave me alone. this is the best jay fic to me
ꕀ take the backseat by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 8.5k ♯ smut, ft jake, exhibitionist!jay, voyeur!jake, afab reader, eventual threesome in part 2, how do i tattoo a fic into my brain
ꕀ friends to worry about by @intromortal ⋮ wc 7.3k ♯ smut, cheating, everyone is lowk shitty, bf's besties!jayhoon x reader, lil bit of mxm, just read it ok
ꕀ his obsession by @arelyvn ⋮ wc 7k ♯ college au, smut, fluff, jay’s obsessed with the reader, brat tamer!jay (we all cheered), undercover freak!reader, loved this
ꕀ sweet desire by @arelyvn ⋮ wc 5.7k ♯ smut, slight angst, jay and reader are obsessed with each other, pwp, i love jay fics
ꕀ dad and dollars by @prkhaven ⋮ wc 12.9k ♯ smut, dilf au, slight age gap, dad!jay x money struggling fem!reader, pwp, just yes
ꕀ midnight came twice by @nephynes ⋮ wc 7k ♯ smut, ft sunghoon, fubu with both sunghoon and jay, threesome, meandom!hoon, softdom!jay, angst if you squint
ꕀ mr & mrs smith by @swiftjay23 ⋮ wc 35k ♯ smut, marriage-on-the-rocks, morally gray romance, slow-burn, assassin spy husband!Jay x assassin spy wife!reader, husband jay fics ugh
jake
ꕀ serial-sweetheart by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 23.6k ♯ smut, cheating/infedelity that doesn't get exposed, boyfriend sunghoon, perverted/shy college boy jake, jake is a couple of years younger, sunghoon and jake are brothers, needy jake, dom-ish sunghoon, switch reader, jaw-droppingly good
ꕀ liquid sweetner by @intromortal ⋮ wc 5.2k ♯ smut, established relationship, downbad!jake, sick!reader, sweetie jake taking care of his girl basically
ꕀ ping! we should fuck by @jaylaxies ⋮ wc approx 6.5k ♯ smut, fwb, unprotected sex, fluff, angst
ꕀ what is it, to be liked? by @dollhoonki ⋮ wc 12.6k ♯ smut, dom!jake (condenscending), sub!reader, established relationship, satisfying ending to a trip to the mountains after encountering a fortune teller
ꕀ into it? by @minhosimthings ⋮ wc 24.8k ♯ smut, ft euijoo from andteam (foaming at the mouth), dom!jake, dom!ej, threesome, fratboys kinda, obsessed obsessed obsessed
ꕀ crazy, stupid, love by @swiftjay23 ⋮ wc 31.6k ♯ romcom au, friends with benefits, smut, angst, fluff, fwb to lovers, mutual pining, emotional slow burn, happy ending, playboy!jake x fratgirl!reader
sunghoon
ꕀ first date etiquette by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 9.3k ♯ smut, strangers to fucking almost immediately, brat tamer!sunghoon (somebody sedate me), sneaky sex, cocky sunghoon, flirting/bullying banter, both are competitive, im so unwell
ꕀ 1-800-HOON by @prkhaven ⋮ wc 10.8k ♯ smut, brat tamer au, pwp if you squint really hard, jay is reader’s rich bf and sunghoon’s best friend, mean hard dom brat tamer!sunghoon, hung!hoon agenda, i'd get banned if i said all i wanted to about this one so im just gonna say its nice!
ꕀ inch by inch by @intromortal ⋮ wc 23.6k ♯ smut, f!reader x park sunghoon, besties!jaykewon, essentially just smut, hung hung hung sunghoon, brat tamer!sunghoon, theres a part 2 as well, everyone is sick of hearing me talk about this one idc i need to be put tf down
ꕀ that's right, he can't by @jaylaxies ⋮ wc 3.6k ♯ smut, dom!heeseung x switch!fem!reader x switch!sunghoon, jealousy, revenge sex, needy reader, heeseung is lowk an asshole
ꕀ birthday boy by @intromortal ⋮ wc 4.5k ♯ smut, "sunghoon's first birthday after you started dating comes around, and you two make the most of the night when a snow storm delays plans." honestly just rlly sweet
trust there is way more sunghoon ones, i just have to hunt for them in my notes somewhere :3
sunoo
ꕀ one of the girls by @mssishipi ⋮ wc 45.5k ♯ slowburn, one sided enemies to fubu to lovers, second chances, queer coded relationship dynamics, queer!sunoo x queer! reader, pwp, hung sunoo, dom!sunoo, this is THE sunoo fic. you can't change my mind.
ꕀ 06. viewer submission challenge by @heeluvv ⋮ wc ?k ♯ smut, public sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), sunoo x reader
ꕀ all the right numbers by @nephynes ⋮ wc 15k ♯ smut, college au, fratboy! sunoo, casual sex, slice of life, romance, slowburn
ꕀ sweeter than revenge by @hoonstrology ⋮ wc 11.1k ♯ best friends to lovers. fluff. romance. yearner!sunoo & whipped!sunoo. slight angst. jealousy, condescending–dom!sunoo & sub!reader. sunoo switches between soft!dom and mean!dom (put me down) hung!sunoo agenda, like just love a good sunoo fic fr
there's a severe drought of good sunoo fics here :(
jungwon
ꕀ all the right parts by @arelyvn ⋮ wc 6k ♯ smut, teasing, car sex (on top of it), freak mechanic!won (feral), mean dom!won, freakwon agenda, reader's a spoiled brat who needs to be put in her place, and jungwon's willing to, just read it omg
ꕀ 0.7 first timer by @heeluvv ⋮ wc ?k ♯ smut, masturbation, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex etc, jungwon x reader, this entire series is 10/10
riki
ꕀ 0.8 watch me by @heeluvv ⋮ wc ?k ♯ smut, unprotected sex, grinding, praise kink, teasing, handcuffs, nishimura riki x fem reader
i realised i don't have any riki ones besides this one..
⊹ . ˙ ܀ She's not only good on stage, she's also good off stage… Where the female member of Enhypen helps her members with stress in the best way she knows how. ﹙ ♡︎ ﹚˖
𑣲⋆ request ゛𓈒 ݁
Pairings: idol! enha ot7 x fem 8th member! reader
Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, explicit!content, p in v, unprotected sex (not for you idiot), masturbation (m and f), oral (m and f recieiving), face fucking, fingering, finger sucking, cock riding, cowgirl, missionary, doggy position, shower sex, mirror sex, semi public sex, spanking, praise and pets names, crying during sex,non-consensual voyeurism, aftercare, idk what more.
wc: 3,9k
note: English isn't my first language, so if you find any mistakes I apologize, hehe, and I also welcome any corrections or tips from you.
If by some chance you're here and you speak Spanish, let me tell you that I do too, hehe, and that the Spanish version is available here.
⊹ . ˙ ܀ HEESEUNG - 0.5k
It was early morning, and everyone was fast asleep after a long, tiring day. Or so she thought when she left her room to go to the kitchen for a glass of water. A very low noise made her stop mid-stride; she froze, thinking her mind was playing tricks on her. It happened again, and now she couldn't deny what she was hearing. A muffled moan reached her ears, coming from Heeseung's room.
The strained voice of her bandmate, along with a wet sound, made her cheeks flush. She tiptoed to Heeseung's door, standing right in front of it; from there, she could hear him even more clearly.
"I know you're in there. Come in" Heeseung said, his voice thick with effort from the other side. She wanted to back away, but instead, she turned the doorknob and stepped inside. The room was almost entirely dark, save for the small lamp on the desk. She glanced toward the bed, finding the unsurprising sight of him completely naked, his hand moving over his hard, glistening cock.
"Come and help me. You're not going to leave me like this, are you? Training today left me exhausted."
She obeyed, climbing onto the bed and positioning herself in front of Heeseung, right between his legs and sitting on her own ankles. She took his cock in her hand, slowly stroking him.
"Oh God… Damn it…" Heeseung groaned at the touch of her cold hands against his hot skin. "Into your mouth, put it in your mouth."
She complied, lowering her face to take him in, sliding his cock as deep down her throat as she could manage. It was already well lubricated with his own precum.
"Ahh… Hmmg… Yes, like that… you know exactly how to do it… Ohh…" Heeseung suddenly pushed her head much further down, holding her there for a few seconds and making her gag.
She pulled herself free, breathing heavily. "Idiot, don't do that." He chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Sorry. Lie on your back. Head over the edge."
She obeyed, letting her head fall over the edge of the bed. Heeseung positioned himself right in front of her face, his cock brushing against her lips.
"Open" he ordered. She opened her mouth as wide as she could, unconsciously parting her lips and sticking out her tongue. Heeseung held her head firmly by the sides and plunged deep to the back of her throat. She slapped her thighs in protest, but he didn't stop, pacing his thrusts so fast that she began having trouble catching her breath.
"Shit, I'm going to cum… Mghm… You're going to take it all" Thrusting into her one last time, he maintained his tight grip as the orgasm coursed through him, spilling his semen into her throat.
Tears streamed down her face, and only when Heeseung finished did he finally release her.
"You animal, you almost choked me," she complained, coughing slightly. Heeseung grabbed a towel and gently wiped her face. He gave her a tender kiss on the lips and smiled. "Sorry and thank you... you're always so thoughtful with us."
She rolled her eyes, ready to head back to her room, but Heeseung caught her arm. "Sleep with me tonight."
⊹ . ˙ ܀ JAY - 0.4k
They both arrived at the dorm after rehearsals, and Jay wouldn't even let her go to the shower. Instead, he pulled her onto the sofa, kissing her frantically, as if he were completely desperate for her. Right now, she was bouncing rapidly on his cock, filling the room with her moans. "Mhg… Ja-Jay…" she whimpered, holding onto his shoulders as Jay slapped her ass.
"Shhh, you have to be less noisy, darling…" he whispered, although he was clearly delighted by the sound.
He grabbed the hem of her t-shirt to pull it off, and once he did, he unhooked her bra, freeing her aching breasts. He guided his mouth to one of her nipples while sliding one of his hands to her clitoris, caressing it in a circular motion. The sudden friction caused her to let out a small cry.
"Jay… Ahh… God." She continued riding him as he devoured her nipples. She felt her thighs tremble, warning her that her orgasm was close. Jay gripped her by the hips and laid her back against the sofa, positioning himself over her. He guided her legs over his shoulders and began thrusting into her hard and fast. "Yes, yes, baby… don't hold back. Cum on my cock, do it."
The release arrived like an overwhelming wave, making her moan loudly, her body trembling beneath his thrusts. Jay continued his work, seeking his own release. At that moment, neither of them heard the front door open, let alone the announcement of the person who had just walked in.
"Guys, I brought dinner—" Jake froze in the doorway, staring right at them.
She caught his eye and felt her soul leave her body from pure embarrassment. "Ja-Jay… stop."
"What the hell, Park Jongseong?" Jake complained, his voice loud enough to finally make Jay halt.
Jay looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. "Is there a problem, Jakey?"
"Maybe the fact that you're fucking in the living room? And on the couch! I'm never sitting there again."
"You're exaggerating. Go away. Give me five more minutes and I'll be done."
Jake huffed, slamming the bag of food onto the kitchen table before disappearing down the hall.
"Now, should I continue with the part where you moan my name and make me come?" Jay asked playfully. She nodded, her cheeks completely flushed. Jay resumed his movements, thrusting as deep as the position allowed. A few more hard strokes were enough to push him over the edge, spilling inside her as he reached his climax.
"I love you so much, beautiful."
⊹ . ˙ ܀ JAKE - 0.5k
She was taking her much-anticipated shower after her session with Jay. The steam from the hot water filled the bathroom as she listened to music, so engrossed in humming the tune that she didn't notice the shower door opening. It wasn't until large, cold hands cupped her bottom that she turned around with a start.
She sighed with relief when she realized it was Jake, who was smiling tenderly at her despite being completely naked and standing in the shower with her.
"Wh-what are you doing here?" she asked, a little breathless.
"I got a little jealous that Jay had you before me today" Jake confessed. "So, I came for my comfort."
Jake didn't give her a chance to protest. He took her cheeks in his hands and brought his lips to hers, plunging them into a long, desperate kiss. He devoured her mouth, seeking to feel every part of it, thrusting his tongue inside and biting her lips. When he finally pulled away to let her catch her breath, he chuckled softly at the sight of her flushed cheeks.
"Damn, you turn me on so much when you look like this. I need to fuck you right now. On your knees."
She didn't even have time to react before Jake was already guiding her body to the floor, her knees hitting the wet tile and her back resting against the wall. Right in front of her face lay his long, hard cock. She stared at it and swallowed nervously. Jake laughed again, his dick giving a slight twitch as he grasped it at the base, gently tapping her cheek with it. "Open that pretty little mouth for me, beautiful."
She complied, opening her mouth and giving him permission to slide down her throat. Jake was harder to take because of his length.
"Ugh… Fuck, you're so good at this, like always… Aghh" Jake groaned, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, suppressing the urge to completely ravage her mouth. "Mmhg… Ohh shit, yes…" He thrust in as far as he could before finally releasing her, helping her up from the floor only to pin her against the glass partition.
"I'm going in, baby… okay?"
She nodded.
"No, I need you to tell me" Jake guided the tip of his cock to her entrance, holding back as he waited for her answer.
"Do it, Jake. Fuck me"
He did, plunging inside her with a powerful thrust that made her let out a sharp squeal. Jake pounded into her roughly, pushing her hard against the glass.
"Mmhg… Aahh… Mmm… Jake!" she moaned, feeling her walls tighten around him as another orgasm began to build.
Jake brought a hand to her clitoris, pressing down and rubbing in frantic circles in perfect sync with his heavy thrusts. "You're damn beautiful, I can't be away from you for a second. I love you. I love how you squeeze my cock."
He kissed and bit her neck, his hips moving relentlessly, filling the bathroom with the sound of their moans mixed with the splash of water over their slick bodies.
"Ohh… I'm going to…" He couldn't even finish the sentence before his climax shook him completely, sending electric shocks from his feet straight to his cock as he released inside her. He continued thrusting even after the release, slowing his pace and leaving small, gentle kisses along her spine.
Finally, he pulled out and turned her around so they were face to face, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. "Now let me pamper you, okay? You must be exhausted after so much rehearsal and physical activity."
⊹ . ˙ ܀ SUNGHOON - 0.5k
They were at the photoshoot for their album Desire: Unleash. All the guys were incredibly impressed by her appearance, but especially Sunghoon, who had to ask for a moment to go to the restroom because of the raging erection he got just from seeing her in an outfit that hugged her waist and ass perfectly. Sunghoon had an addiction to that ass. While he was masturbating, frustrated at having a hard-on at such an inopportune moment, he heard a soft knock on the door.
"Who is it?" he asked, biting his lower lip to stifle a moan.
"It's me, Hoon. Are you almost done? I need to come in."
Sunghoon didn't miss the opportunity. "Come in. Just... come in."
She entered the bathroom, surprised. "But... what do you think you're doing? You could have been caught."
Sunghoon squeezed his cock with the palm of his hand while using his other to beckon her closer. "Come here. I'm like this because of you. So, you have an obligation to fix it. Suck my cock, now."
"My fault? Well, I'm so sorry you have no self-control," she huffed, kneeling in front of him anyway. "Just this once, we need to get back quickly."
"Whatever, just... help me, and I promise to please you after the session."
She sighed, taking his cock in her hands, slowly stroking him. Sunghoon groaned in response, a heavy frown twisting his features. "Fuck... Mghm... I need your mouth. I asked you to suck it."
She guided her mouth to his dick, licking the tip first, teasing him with pleasurable friction before taking him all in, sucking, licking, and leaving trails of saliva along his length. Sunghoon gently held her perfectly straightened hair back so it wouldn't get messed up while she continued to stroke his cock.
"Oughh... Mghmm... Ohh... Y-yes, that's right."
She felt he was getting too close to the edge, but he suddenly stopped her, holding her cheeks to pull her back.
"What's wrong? We don't have much time, Sunghoon"
Before she could protest further, Sunghoon grabbed her by the waist, unbuttoning her pants and pulling them down along with her panties. He spun her around, pinning her against the sink and forcing her to look at their reflection in the mirror.
"I'm taking that promise back. I'll please you right now" Following his words, Sunghoon plunged his tongue into her wet pussy.
"Ahh!" she moaned, forcing herself to clap a hand over her own mouth because of how loud she had been.
"Baby... you need to be quieter, or we'll get caught" Sunghoon warned, his voice low as he went back to licking her, running his tongue over every inch and pausing at her clitoris to suck it in an exquisite torture that made her thighs tremble. Then, he slipped two fingers inside, giving small thrusts while he continued to stimulate her.
"Hoon… I-I… Mghm…"
Hearing her announcement, Sunghoon stood up, guiding his cock straight inside her. He covered her mouth with both hands to muffle her cries and began to thrust frantically, relentlessly.
"Damn, look at you… taking my cock during a photoshoot, while the others are waiting right outside… Ough… Mmgh…" Sunghoon continued slamming his hips against her ass until he finally came deep inside her.
Once finished, he stepped back, cleaned her up with some toilet paper, and helped her get dressed again. He gave her a sweet kiss on the lips before heading out the door.
"Always the best at relieving stress. Love you.”
⊹ . ˙ ܀ SUNOO - 0.5k
She was lying on her bed, staring at her phone and completely absorbed in her thoughts, when she looked up and noticed Sunoo standing in the doorway. "What's up, Ddonu? Is everything alright?" she asked, noticing he looked a little down.
Instead of answering, Sunoo simply threw himself on top of her, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her chest. "I'm exhausted... that's all" he mumbled, rubbing his face against her warmth.
She smiled, gently stroking his hair. "We all are, Sun... But it'll be worth it. This album is going to be a hit"
He just made a soft sound of agreement, playfully slipping his hand under her shirt to squeeze one of her breasts.
"Sunoo... The others might see us..." she protested weakly.
"I don't care. And you didn't seem to care that time with Jay, either" Sunoo pointed out, a hint of reproach in his voice. He lifted her shirt completely, revealing her bare breasts, and immediately brought one to his mouth while continuing to massage the other. "Mghm… Sun…"
"I'm so tired… pamper me today, okay? We'll both enjoy it." Sunoo moved away from her chest to slide off her sweatpants and panties. He brought two fingers to his mouth, wetting them with saliva, before caressing her and slowly inserting them inside.
"Ohh…" She moaned at the intrusion, her cheeks flushing at the nerve-wracking thought of any other member walking down the hall and catching them.
Sunoo thrust his fingers slowly into her, making a scissor-like motion inside to strike her sweet spot, eliciting low moans from her. Feeling his fingers get completely soaked in her slick fluids, he began to pick up the pace, thrusting in and out rapidly, creating an obscene wet sound. "Ohh… Sun-sunoo…"
He stopped his movements when she suddenly clamped her legs shut in arousal. Smiling, he withdrew his fingers and quickly lowered his own pants.
"Open those pretty legs for me, my love" He gripped her hips, rubbing his length against her pussy before plunging deep inside with a loud gasp.
"Mmgh… Yes… You're squeezing me so tight. It doesn't even feel like you're having sex with all of us all the time." Sunoo moved in and out of her at a highly pleasurable rhythm, occasionally leaning down to kiss her lips or whisper soft compliments into her ear. "Aagh… You're perfect. I'll never get tired of coming to you for love."
He changed the pace, pushing her thighs against her abdomen to lift her hips higher, driving even deeper inside her.
"Oough… Sun- right there, right there…" she moaned as she felt the blunt tip of his cock hit that exact spot. Her legs trembled violently as her orgasm crashed over her. She squeezed him tight while he continued thrusting rapidly until he, too, reached his own climax. Sunoo pulled out and collapsed back onto her chest, letting his groupmate's warm, trembling hands stroke his back.
"Give me ten minutes and we can go for another round" he murmured, planting soft kisses along her collarbone.
"Another one? You guys never get tired" she laughed softly.
"Actually, I am tired" Sunoo countered playfully, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, this time you'll be doing all the work, beautiful."
⊹ . ˙ ܀ JUNGWON - 0.5k
The concert had ended, and the euphoric screams of the fans could still be heard backstage. All the members were walking toward their dressing rooms when she felt a sudden tug on her arm, pulling her away from the group.
"Jungwon? Now? Really?" she questioned, too exhausted to even bother resisting.
"Come on, please. We deserve it. We did a great job, and I'm so horny now" Jungwon caressed her waist under her shirt, pulling her flush against him so she could feel his very obvious erection through his pants. "I've been trying to hide this for the last two songs. You look so beautiful today."
"Won… they might see or hear us here…" she tried to reason, but Jungwon drowned her out with a kiss. It was slow at first, but filled with an intense, desperate desire; he really needed her.
Still kissing her, he cornered her against the heavy shipping containers used for the sound equipment. He pulled away just enough to unbutton his pants, exposing his hard cock. "It'll be quick, I promise… and if you want, we can continue in the bedroom later."
"Okay, but hurry."
Jungwon spun her around, pressing her chest and stomach against the cold metal of the container, lifting her denim shorts to expose her ass to him. He massaged her pussy with his fingers, a smirk evident in his voice. "Just look at you, you're already wet."
He teased her for a second before taking his length and slowly sliding all the way inside her. "Mmhg… Wonnie…"
Jungwon buried himself deep, immediately covering her mouth with one hand. "I'd love to hear you scream at the top of your lungs, but unless you want everyone to see us, it'll have to be like this, my love."
Then, Jungwon began thrusting desperately. The speed and roughness with which he was pounding into her felt almost feral. She stifled her own moans by biting her tongue and her lower lip. Pressing down firmly on her hip with one hand, he drove into her again and again.
Tears of ecstasy streamed down her cheeks, her cries completely muffled beneath his palm. She whined against his hand, overwhelmed by the fierce pace, yet unable to get enough of it. Jungwon brought his palm down hard against one of her buttocks, leaving the skin flushed and reddened, but he didn't pause or slow down for a single second. Releasing her hip, he reached up to grip her hair, pulling her head back against his chest as he continued to pound her until she was thoroughly sore.
Luckily, the muffled chaos of the fans screaming and the staff moving equipment outside drowned out their tryst. Otherwise, they would have been discovered by the distinct, rhythmic slap of their bodies alone.
"Damn, I'm going to cum..." Jungwon growled. He delivered a few more frantic thrusts until he came violently inside her, keeping himself buried for at least a minute while they both caught their breath. Finally, he pulled out and released his hold on her.
"How do you still have so much energy after a full concert?" she panted, catching her breath as she pulled her shorts back up.
"I told you it would be quick" he joked, earning a playful punch to the chest. He helped her fix herself up, and together, they casually walked back to the dressing room to join the rest of the group.
⊹ . ˙ ܀ NIKI - 0.6k
They were both sitting on the floor of Riki's room playing video games after an exhausting day of concerts. They had already showered and eaten a light dinner. Riki had suggested they play racing games until they fell asleep, but boredom was quickly getting the better of him.
"Ugh, this is boring" he complained, pausing the game and dropping his controller onto the rug. He huffed, ruffling his still-damp hair with one hand. "What if we do something else?"
She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Like what?"
Riki smiled mischievously and moved closer, their lips almost brushing. "Let's relieve some stress together. You know exactly what I mean."
She rolled her eyes playfully. "You guys really don't get tired... Fine."
"God! you're the best! That's why you're my favorite. Now, off to bed, doll."
She sat on the edge of the bed, and Riki pulled the t-shirt off his shoulders before gently pushing her down onto the sheets. He climbed on top of her and kissed her lips passionately, slowly at first, but with an intense, burning lust. Riki slipped his hand inside her pajama shorts, massaging her clitoris in tight circles and eliciting a sharp gasp from her.
"Mmgh, Riki…" she murmured against his mouth, but he silenced her with another kiss, his tongue deeply exploring her mouth as their saliva mingled with wet, needy sounds.
Then, Riki slid two fingers inside her, causing her thighs to instinctively clamp shut. He pulled away from her face, spreading her legs wide. "Don't be shy, baby…" he teased, stripping off her shorts and underwear before thrusting his fingers back inside her. He moved them in and out repeatedly until she let out a sharp cry, her trembling legs squeezing around his hand.
Gripping her hip, Riki flipped her over so she was face down on the mattress, leaving her bare backside resting against his thighs. Riki parted her folds with his hands and slicked her already wet entrance with a bit of spit, massaging her up and down with his fingers. When she moaned aloud, he delivered a sharp slap to her buttocks, making her jump.
"You're very noisy today, and I'm only touching you with my hands" He slapped her again, then leaned down to kiss the skin that was already turning a lovely shade of red. Riki stood up to strip off his own pants. "Get on all fours, darling" he ordered.
With slightly clumsy movements, she positioned herself, leaving her ass completely at his mercy. Riki lined himself up with her pussy and thrust in hard. A loud moan tore from her throat as her legs trembled, almost giving way beneath his weight. He roughly drove into her from behind, holding her firmly by the hips, slapping her buttocks so repeatedly that the distinct marks of his hand and fingers began to bloom on her skin.
"Aah… Riki, ahh… God!" she gasped, her voice broken by the raw intensity with which he was fucking her.
Her arms finally gave out, and she collapsed onto the mattress, burying her face in the sheets. The new angle gave him an even better reach, allowing him to penetrate deeper than before.
"Mmgh… Damn it, you always squeeze me so tight. I love it… Oohh… Shit." Riki continued his relentless pace for a few more minutes, even as her tight walls milked his length with the force of the orgasm that overtook her.
Her muffled moans filled the sheets. "Mmhg… Aah-aah… Yes… Fuck" Riki groaned, plunging in one final time, filling her completely as he reached his climax. Without withdrawing, he bent over her back, brushing the stray hairs from her face to press a tender kiss to her flushed cheek. "Thank you…"
dividers by @cursed-carmine --- requests open
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. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ summary :: being single in your teenage years made you miss out on many things, one of them being the kissing game with the soda flavored lipsticks. so, now that you finally have a boyfriend, you decide to play it. however, the game quickly escalates into something more...
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ genre :: smut (mdni!)
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ tags :: fingering, small fluff, missionary, p in v, jake is head over heels for y/n, squirting, small to no plot, pwp, kissing, making out, overstimulation, masturbation, protected sex, nicknames, cum eating, finger sucking, dry humping (kinda)
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ wc :: 3.1k
now playing :: kiss it better — rihanna
With the plastic box tugged under your arm, you typed in the message quickly as you were waiting for the traffic lights to turn green so you could finally rush home.
you : i got the thing. ill be home in probs like 5 mins.
You couldn't deny the nervousness that took over your body. The lights finally changed, and you snatched the box out from under your arms and threw it in your tote bag. You made your way to the other side of the road with quick steps, getting lost in the big New York crowd.
Just another busy Friday morning. Every person has a different goal. A different place they go to. Most probably go to work, but who knows? Maybe they are on their way to one of their loved ones in the hospital, or they are going on a date (even though it's eleven in the morning).
Personally, you were on your way to your new apartment. You freshly moved out of the college dorm to your own apartment, and it was pretty hard to pretend like you felt sad for your roommate while she was sobbing in your arms when you told her the news. The truth was that you were straight up cheesing inside the whole time. You couldn't wait to have your own personal space, without anyone interrupting your study sessions or series binge sessions. But the best part : you finally had enough time to be with your boyfriend alone.
Jake was your first ever boyfriend, which was a kinda embarrassing thing to admit at the age of twenty. However, you felt like you just entered your youth, even if it was late. You tried to ignore that part. People usually do cringy teenager type of things when they are sixteen, but you missed out on that.
You weren't the type to complain a lot, but one day you found yourself spilling your heart out to Jake about it while your head was in his lap, his fingers caressing your head as he nodded understandingly.
That's where the idea came from : the lipsmackers, now tossed in your bag next to your breakfast you got from the bakery on the corner of the street.
It was Jake’s idea. He said, and I quote “We should start doing those ‘cringy’ things, then”
You wanted to say ‘no’ so bad, because still, you are in college, a twenty year old independent woman who has a successful career in front of her. You almost did say no, but thinking it through, it can't hurt, right?
So, Jake made you write a list of things you missed out on when you were a teenager. The things your friends would brag about to you, knowing damn well you are a lonely loser. The things that made you so insecure you couldn't stop scratching your arms.
Lip Smackers were on top of the list. It was so nostalgic, at a time they were all over the stores. Well, you never had anyone to do it with. Until now.
You push down the bell next to your apartment door. Jake should be there, because he spent last night with you. You binged all the three Maze Runner movies, and neither of you noticed how much the time passed. By the time you finished, it was already four am.
Soon, the door opens and the most gorgeous boy you have ever seen in your life smiles at you. Then he steps closer and wants to press a kiss on your lips, but you stop him.
“Remember, no kissing” you say, teasingly. You and Jake decided to not kiss until you got the lipsticks. It was anticipating, because you made the list two days ago, and you kiss, like, all the time.
He rolls his eyes, but the corners of his lips are tugging upwards “Someone is strict” he comments, leading you in the apartment and closing the door behind you.
You set your bag down by the table, pulling your breakfast and the plastic box out of it. Jake glances at it, then his eyes find you again. “So? When do we start? I don't think I can handle another day without kissing you”
He steps closer, grabbing you by your waist. And he moves dangerously close, his lips breezing your skin ever so slightly.
You look up at him, smiling “We can do it now”
⋆｡‧˚ʚ ୨ৎ ɞ˚‧｡⋆
You fiddle with the box a bit before you can open it, your hands shaking. Jake is sitting on the bed in front of you, and you could tell he just can't wait, because his back is perfectly straight and he has his hands on his knees as they are crossed.
Your heart is thumping in your chest. You don't even know how to play this game properly. It sounds so dumb — a grown woman being anxious to play a kissing game with her boyfriend. It's straight up ridiculous. But the lipsticks bring back so many memories, and most of them being bad, you just can't help your feelings.
When you finally manage to get the lipsticks out of the box, you look up at Jake.
“Okay. Cover your eyes. And don't cheat” You tell him, and he nods as he lowers his head and buries his head in his hands.
You look down at the six different lipsticks, indicated in vivid colors. You end up picking the sprite one first. As you apply it on your lips, you taste it a little bit, the sweet flavor getting on your tongue. It tastes horrible, like every candy from the 2000s. It's not much of a surprise.
You throw the green bottle back to the other ones, mixing them together.
“You can look now,” You insist.
Jake looks up faster than the speed of light, his eyes landing on your glistening lips. He's so freaking cute when he's all excited but can't get what he wants yet.
You smile softly “You are really excited”
“I am” he doesn't deny it, he gets on his knees so he can crawl towards you.
He moves slowly, almost hesitant like it's your first kiss ever. Like it's his first kiss ever. He gulps nervously, Adam's apple bobbing visibly in his throat. Jake leans down and presses his soft lips onto yours. He doesn't move at first, and you don't either, because you have no idea what to do.
After a few moments, you feel his tongue darting out and licking your bottom lip. He grabs onto your shoulders and pulls you closer to taste it better, but his tongue only licks your lips and he's very careful with it.
He pulls back, looking up for a moment. “Hm” he humms, thinking “I think… Sprite? Maybe?”
You nod heavily, feeling your cheeks getting red. “You got it right on the first try. That's good”
“Alright, next one” He hurries, lowering his head again.
You let out a small laugh, picking out the next lipstick. You hesitate for a moment, should it be Coca Cola or Fanta? Coca cola is an iconic flavor, he would get it fast, meaning he wouldn't kiss you for long… But Fanta is his favorite. Maybe he would get that even faster.
But again, Fanta is his favorite. Bingo.
You pick up the neon orange bottle with more confidence now, smearing it all over your lips. Once. Then twice. Then thrice.
“I'm done” You smile and close your eyes, this game is so fun after all.
You keep your eyes closed but hear the bed creaking under his weight as he crawls closer again. He's so so slow, it makes you want to pull him closer as fast as possible. It feels like he's doing it on purpose.
He leans down, your eyes are still closed. You feel his hot breath hitting your skin, your slick lips offered to him. His lips feel softer this time on yours, he kisses you like he's trying to hold back. You know it, it happened before. It makes you feel a little more excited, knowing he's trying his best to control himself.
He licks your lips again. Once, then twice. Jake tilts his head slightly and licks your lips once again, this time he licks into your mouth. It's a bit awkward, he’s hesitant with it, but you let him. His hands find the side of your burning hot cheeks, and he tilts your head upwards for more availability. The angle feels better now, and you straight up make out at this point. His tongue finds yours continuously, and his lips are moving hungryly on yours.
He kneels between your legs, but you feel him crawl closer, gesturing you to move back. And you do, until your back hits the bedframe. The kiss never breaks, his movements are far away from hesitant. Jake moves his hands from your cheeks to your waists, squeezing it slightly.
“This one is… good…” he manages to spit out, then he dives onto the softness of your lips again.
Jake bites down your bottom lip, and you can't stop a small moan from getting out. You let your hands wander and you ran them through his soft brown hair, grabbing onto the back of his head to push him closer.
His hands feel hot against your skin as he pushes your shirt upwards.
He breaks the kiss, and you finally open your eyes to meet his. His pupils are blown wide and his whole face is red like he's tipsy, drunk on your lips. Not to talk about his glossy lips, the lipstick messily smeared all around his mouth, some of it on his cheeks.
“Can I take this off?” He asks softly, tugging your shirt.
You nod and help him, then your eyes flick to his yellow-black striped shirt. A silent gesture, but he gets what you want immediately and takes it off. He tosses both of the shirts aside and fiddles with his zipper. Your eyes track his every movement.
“Fuck” he cusses when he finally unbuttons his jeans and pulls it down, throwing it aside.
The next thing you know is that he’s on your neck, sucking on the smooth skin. It will probably leave marks later.
He works his way down with his mouth, and you take a deep sigh before you look down at his back, watching how his back muscles flex with every movement, every time he leans lower and every time he moves his hands on your hips.
“Jake… Please” you beg. He looks up at you, his fingers hooking onto your pants as he pulls them down without teasing.
His tone is soft when he asks “Please what, angel?”
You swallow, squirming in your place “I want you”
He smirks up, and moves back up to kiss you. As he kisses you, he still feels the vague taste of the Fanta on his tongue. He grinds his hips down, you feel his bulge against your panties, fabric to fabric.
“What do you want from me? Be specific?” He tilts his head, looking at you with those big puppy eyes.
You are sure you are about to melt. Why is he soft and cute, but also so handsome and hot at the same time? How is that possible?
You lick your lips, looking down at his body hovering above you. “I want you inside of me, please, Jake” you whisper.
He smiles, grinding down again. His bulge presses to your wet panties, the fabric is — gosh — so thin.
“Hm, what a nasty girl…” he mumbles, kissing on your cheek. “I gotta prepare you for that, then, because I don't think you can take it right away”
He drags a line with his index finger across your chest, between your breasts, across your stomach, and then he plays with the lace of your panties for a while. Jake sees the anticipation on your face, and it makes him nearly laugh. He ends up letting out a small giggle as he pulls the panties down.
How could he ever tease you rudely when you look at him so softly?
He circles on your wet clit, and you let your head fall back on the bedframe. When you are about to catch your breath and get yourself together, you feel two of his long fingers sliding inside your dripping hole. Your hand flies to grab his muscular arm, letting out a moan.
“Jake!” you scream when he curls his fingers inside, just the right way. He moves them fastly, setting up a rhythm. You clench around his fingers, the stretch makes you see stars when he scissors his fingers impatiently.
As he plumps his fingers inside with his right hand, he holds you in place with his other one, his thumb caressing your stomach.
When you are about to burst, your mind going dizzier than ever, he pulls his fingers out.
You take deep breaths, chest rising and falling heavily. He moves his hand up to your face and pushes his fingers inside of your mouth suddenly, forcing you to suck on them. Your mind is already so fucked up that you just do whatever he tells you to do. “Good…good girl” he mumbles, the sight of you sucking on his digits and tasting yourself turning him on more than it should be.
“Do you think you are ready now?” Jake asks but he's already pulling his boxers down, out of breath.
You nod, and watch him as he reaches to the bedside table and pulls out a condom and lube. He rolls up the condom and smears lube over his cock, making it slippery. Jake lines up against your entrance and he sucks his breath in as he pushes in. He always does this, you’ve noticed it already.
You moan as your muscles tense, grabbing the sheets next to you to keep yourself steady. He stops, a small whine leaving his mouth.
“Are you okay?” He eyes you up and down, and his gaze sets on your face. You look at him, your eyes half lidded and your gaze hazy.
“Yeah” you breath, barely audible.
But Jake hears it, and he starts to move slowly. Even though he stretched you out with his fingers, you still feel like your walls are about to break at any moment.
You arch your back as he pushes again and bottoms out slowly. You feel him slightly shaking, a sign that he's still trying to control himself.
His shaky breaths caresses your skin.
“Jake” you mumble out, and he immediately looks at you. “You can go faster” you add.
You don't need to tell him twice, he picks his pace up and starts going in a faster rhythm, kneeling up on the bed so he can fuck inside you deeper.
You moan out his name as he spreads your legs wider and lifts your hips. This angle makes it better to reach your G spot with every thrust, his movements getting smoother, the lube helping him out a lot.
“So pretty and tight for me” Jake digs his nails onto your calves and moves them around his waist, gesturing you to lock them around him so he can get deeper. And you do it, trying to ignore the fact that your legs are beginning to give up and tremble.
Jake moves effortlessly in and out of you, and you open your teary eyes to look up at him, watching as he bites down his bottom lip. His muscles tense and flex with every move, and he keeps his eyes on your smooth wetness between your legs. The lube is mixed with your juices by now, and he can't get enough of the sight.
The bed creacks every time he bottoms out, the bed frame hitting the wall progressively. You grab the sheets like your life depends on it, the lipsticks slowly rolling to the edge of the bed until they fall down on the floor with a thud.
You feel how you are falling apart slowly, your legs are undeniably trembling. Jake moves his hands from under your thighs to the curve of your ass, caressing in slightly.
“Take it” he commands, thrusting hard.
“Shit, Jake I’m going to—” without being able to finish the sentence, it happens. It's so sudden that you don't even realize what happens.
Not until Jake stops his movements and pulls out. He leans down and presses a kiss on your neck, giggling “I didn't know I could make you squirt”
You widen your eyes, the adrenaline still rushing through your body when you look down at your legs. Jake kneels up again and starts to stroke himself, looking at your pussy being covered in your juices you squirted out. Jake is also covered in it, his dick and abdomen glistering.
Jake whimpers as he strokes himself, biting down his bottom lip. He comes into the condom with a whine escaping his lips a few moments later. He spanks your cunt with his dick, slightly pushing it between your wet folds. Then, he collapses onto the bed and steadies himself by putting his palms next to you on the bed.
You are still dizzy and high by your enormous orgasm, probably your biggest one yet. You are also kinda shocked and embarrassed by how you ruined the sheets, but it seems like Jake isn't bothered by it.
He lays down next to you, exhausted. You both turn to look at each other on the bed, just watching each other gasping for air.
“I'm… sorry” you say after a few silent minutes, referring to the way your sheets are all wet now.
“Sorry? You don't have to be sorry” Jake smiles at your awkwardness. “This was probably our best session yet, if you’d ask me”
You can't help but smirk at that. “Yeah?”
Jake nods “Yes. Next time we play this guessing game we should spice it up a little”
You cock an eyebrow “Spice it up? This wasn't spicy enough?”
“What I mean is that next time you should put it on your other lips”
Your jaw nearly drops, and you hit his arm playfully. You try to hide how the idea doesn't make you disgusted at all, no, you will probably even think of it more than you should later.
“You are such a freak, Jake Sim”
“But you love it” he leans closer, pressing a kiss on your forehead.
And you smile, feeling blessed that you have such a good boyfriend you can do things like this with. “I do”
summary. the world thinks that you're a beta. you and your best friend, nishimura riki, think same thing too—until you're proven wrong. until instincts and scents take over and everything changes overnight.
warnings. MDNI, reader is a late-presenting omega, mutual pining, oblivious pairing, jealous and possessive riki, unprotected sex (DON’T!! even think about it), marking, knotting, p in v, dirty talk, dom!riki, idk it’s my first time writing smut, alpha!jay, alpha!jungwon, alpha!heeseung, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, reader is suuuper horny, poor jay, i tag as i go, not beta read we die like injang, i don’t think this a/b/o is as accurate as the norm but we ball, angst if you squint
word count. 14,896 words
note. stepping out of my comfort zone with this one, my first time writing a oneshot. i hope you love it (hiding in a cave as we speak). mostly inspired by a/b/o fics i read on ao3. don’t forget to stream the sin: vanish! 🩷
You have been to the gym more times than the library.
Not because you’re particularly athletic. No, God knows you’d rather nap. But it’s rather because of a certain six-foot Japanese guy named Nishimura Riki, who’s obsessed with having you watch him stretch before his basketball practice. Says it helps him focus better. Says you bring him luck to his games. Whatever it is, you are happy to indulge with his requests, if it means you get to have your free Baskin Robbins after his gym sessions.
And now, as the two of you walk down the pavement, hands brushing with each step, you’re brought back to three years ago—when Riki was still a head shorter, when his voice still had the childlike lilt to it, when he hadn’t gained all the mass and muscles he has now. The only thing that remains constant is this: his routine of dragging you to his stretching and practice sessions.
It still brings a smile to your face whenever you recall that moment, and Riki never fails to notice every time.
“You have that motherly sentimental smile on your face again,” he points out, eyeing you down like you were dirt on the ground, and you might as well be for how tall he is. “Whatchu thinking ‘bout?”
You roll your eyes. “Good old times, Ki. When you were less annoying and less tall.”
Riki snorts. “I’m always annoying. And taller than you.”
“Fuckass alpha genetics,” you grumble under your breath, the sharp end of your elbow meeting his ribs in a playful nudge. Riki lets out a loud hiss, draping his arm around your shoulders in a harsh tug.
“What’s got your panties in a twist, my favourite girl?”
“I don’t know, maybe the fact that I could’ve slept in instead of going to your alpha gym.”
“You love me too much to refuse me.”
You feel the air leave your lungs. That statement shouldn’t make your stomach twist like this, like you’re caught doing something you’re forbidden to. But if liking your childhood friend—your annoying, tall, and too-hot-for-his-own-good friend—is considered illegal, then by all means you’d rather serve your time in jail than admit it to him.
So you scoff, feigning annoyance as you shove his limbs off your body. Swinging your legs faster, you mutter something enough for his ears to hear, hiding the redness that blooms across your cheeks. “You know I only love your mom.”
“Yeah, but only for her sushi, though!” Riki retorts, chasing after your steps and catching up with you after a maximum of three long strides. Curse his long legs. “I know you’d marry into my family for her sushi.”
“I don’t plan on being a homewrecker. Konon is taken, and Misora is like my little sister.”
“Well, there is me.” There he goes again, making your heart stutter in your ribs, taking your breath away with words that might be simple to him but bring an entirely different meaning to you and your poor feelings. You bite your lip, refusing to answer. Riki takes it as a challenge.
“I’m the real deal, y’know?” Riki wiggles his eyebrows, hogging up your space like a fly, gauging your reaction with that smirk you know all too well. And fuck him for saying the truth. You really wish you could slap that shit-eating grin off his handsome face.
“What, for being an alpha?”
“Especially for being an alpha,” he replies, a cocky smirk adorning his plump lips, to which you just roll your eyes.
He isn’t wrong, and that’s what you hate the most. Alphas are sought after; as a leader, as an heir, as a symbol of dominance and power. They’re at an advantage with everything, including their physique. You have never seen a short alpha; at least none is shorter than you are. Alphas dominate sports, finance and business, politics, education, and even medicines.
It’s hard to argue with Riki’s point of him being the real deal, when the very system you live in is the truth and proof to his claim.
People always want an alpha, and that fact will stay forever so long this system still exists. And it’s a bitter pill to swallow because you also belong to that category—not exactly because you need an alpha, but because a certain first love of yours is, unfortunately, an alpha.
Unfortunate, because alphas only want omegas as their mates.
Not betas. Not you.
And Nishimura Riki is not an exception to that equation.
You are so lost in your own thoughts that you almost missed the entrance to the gym, if not for Riki tugging your sleeve to bring you back to earth. You blink, look at the sign, and sigh.
“Tell me why I’m here again.”
Riki’s face lights up with a grin, dragging you to the entrance. “Because you’re my emotional support,” he jokes again, earning a glare from you.
His voice rumbles in a deep timbre when he chuckles, his other hand pushing the door open and instantly, the familiar chime of the bell greets you with a cold breeze from the built-in air-conditioners.
Riki turns to you again, ruffling your hair affectionately, the same way he did when the both of you were eighteen; the same way he did when he was thirteen, begging you to wish him luck on his basketball match; the same way he did when you were eight, after you scraped your knees in the playground from a foul play.
“And because you’re a beta, you’re not affected by our pheromones.”
It’s a harmless reminder of your subgender, but it stings nonetheless. You give the receptionist a tight smile, hoping it doesn’t show the resentment you feel towards the flawed system, hoping the cracks from your own heart didn’t make its way into the lines of your mouth.
At first, you thought you were an anomaly to the system.
The doubt was inevitable when Riki presented at the ripe age of eighteen, and pretty much so did everybody else. You remember how lonely the classes were when Riki had to take two weeks off, and then the girl who sat in front of you did the same, and then the class president did so too, until there were only seven of you remaining in the class.
The appropriate age range to present is from sixteen to nineteen years old, but the most common one is definitely eighteen. So you told yourself to be patient and wait for your turn; that it might be you next day.
Then you hoped it’d be you next month.
Then you prayed it’d be you next year.
Then you wished the system never existed at all .
Because after three years, with you now turning twenty-one, the presentation never came. You told yourself it’s fine, it doesn’t exclude you from society because it just simply means that you’re a beta, right? Beta belongs to the subgenders too. But it’s hard to ignore the nagging voice of insecurity somewhere in your mind that keeps telling you how wrong everything is. It’s hard to ignore the changes when the changes happened so fast and so blatantly obvious—like the way Riki’s voice turned deeper, the way he grew into everything that an alpha is meant to be.
While you remained the same.
The poison seals its roots when you’re reminded of your family genetics—where every female of your bloodline was born an omega, someone who’s meant to be with an alpha, someone with a sweet and supposedly-alluring scent that you never get a whiff of. You feel like a tossed-aside rug, a forgotten scene from a movie. Hell, you even feel like an unknown city that keeps getting skipped in every world tour of your favourite boyband.
Excluded, out of place, and awkward. Like a piece of puzzle that doesn’t belong. Like a wrong digit in an equation, where the existence of you brings a decimal-answer when people are looking for a whole number.
So with a reluctant resignation, one that you wished would never come, you accept your fate that you’re not an anomaly—you’re just normal. You’re just a beta.
You’re just…not meant to be with Riki.
Perhaps you can try finding a beta that could fill the spot that Riki has. Jake Sim from chemical engineering is also a beta, and he is every bit a gorgeous man. But every time you attempt to look for someone else, someone who’s not over six feet tall, someone who’s not Japanese with features you memorise by heart—you feel your stomach sink with the urge to cry and throw up.
You want Riki. You only yearn for Riki, and it tears you apart that he is everything you want but can’t have.
It’s only morning, and you are already tormenting yourself with the thoughts of your unrequited love, your secret crush, your Nishimura Riki, Riki, Riki. You slump on the desk with a sigh, the lecturer’s high-pitched voice now a faraway island in your mind, earning a low chuckle from Jungwon, another alpha that you befriended on your first day here.
“You okay, Y/N?”
You muffle a small ‘yeah’ and lift your head to face him, the action making you dizzy. You frown. “Just…a bit hungry. I skipped breakfast.”
Jungwon leans closer, lunch invitation heavy on his tongue, but stops mid-way. His nose scrunches, sniffing the air around you like a bunny.
“Uh, did you wear a new perfume?”
“What?” Sitting straight, you mimic his action and start smelling your clothes. “I don’t?”
Jungwon shifts in his seat, taking another whiff from the space around your neck before leaning back, a glint of amusement and curiosity dancing in his eyes.
“Well, you smell different. In a good way.”
“That’s because I wear Chanel number 5, duh,” you say matter-of-factly, rolling your eyes to emphasise. Jungwon shakes his head.
“It’s not Chanel,” he moves closer again, and this time you actually retreat back from the sudden proximity. “You smell faintly like caramel. Like freshly baked cookies.”
“Okay, now you’re being creepy. I don’t smell like a bakery.”
Jungwon looks skeptical, watching you with that cat eyes of his, appearing contemplative and deep in thought before he shrugs and finally gives you some space. You breathe out in relief.
“Mhm. It’s about time you had a scent. Though yours is way too sweet for a beta.”
Your body seizes before your mind can catch up, every bone locking in place as you register his words. When you speak, your voice sounds foreign, even to you.
“I’m supposed to…have a scent?”
Jungwon tilts his head, not expecting that question from you. “Yeah? Everyone with a subgender should have one and can smell one. Can’t you smell me?”
No. The word is trapped behind your teeths, afraid to go out in fear of solidifying the truth that you were what you initially thought: an anomaly. Gulping down your nerves, you pretend to focus back on the lessons, though your lecturer’s voice is already drowned out by the loud thumping behind your ribs.
Jungwon doesn’t buy it, though. That alpha is eyeing you, trying to catch even a tiny telltale of your true emotions.
You settle for a lie. “‘Course I can. You smell disgusting.”
That gets him to react. “Hey! I smell second best to Riki’s pheromones, for your information.” Jungwon gasps, scandalised, and kicks your legs under the table. You suck in a breath, your mind zeroing on the small fragment of his statement: Riki’s pheromones.
You leave the hall an hour later with your brain a whirlwind of panic and unanswered questions, of how much you regret not paying attention to any of your omegaverse classes, of how different you are—again—from the rest of the world, but now with a painful addition that you are also different from a normal beta, and of how Nishimura Riki is allegedly the best-smelling alpha of the century.
The last thought is the loudest, if it’s not already obvious. But your insecurity seems relentless this time, because every time your brain wanders to how good Riki might smell like, it brings you back to the cold, harsh reality of your dysfunctioning senses. And that’s enough to push you off the edge.
The one-hour lecture was spent with you letting the weight of Jungwon’s words pressing into your mind. The concept of scent and subgenders aren’t foreign; not to everybody else but you. You know that alphas and omegas have a certain smell that tells each other apart. But you never knew that betas have one too.
Or they actually do. And it’s you who have none.
Fuck, why did you only sleep in those omegaverse classes in high school?
The distant voice of your omegaverse teacher nags at the back of your mind as you round the corner towards the library, forcing yourself to commit to another group discussion before you can retire and hide in your room after, but are blessed—or cursed—to see Riki instead. Your breath hitches, your steps halt.
The tall man is leaning against the wall with a laidback posture, one hand in the pocket of his sweats, scrolling his phone with a neutral boredom. Then, as if sensing your presence, he lifts his gaze, and lights up.
Fuck him, honestly, in every literal and figurative way possible.
He always lights up every time he sees you, and you hate how much meaning it gives you. Like you’re the only sun in his dark universe; like you’re the only water in the middle of the desert when it probably means nothing to him.
“Y/N, c’mere!”
You force a relaxed posture and a small smile as you walk towards him. And then, without warning, Jungwon’s earlier words invade your mind again, and now your whole focus narrows down to the thoughts of the pheromones of the alpha standing in front of you, and the cruelty of your anatomy to decide that you don’t deserve to smell him.
Riki frowns when you get closer, noticing your slightly pale complexion. One of his arms hover, ready to pull you closer like usual. “You good? Did you see a ghost?”
And this time, you let him tug you, pulling you in like a strong whirlpool in the ocean and you are nothing more than a helpless boat, and you almost swore that you heard Riki sniff you. At the chance of standing in such close proximity with him, you dare yourself to nose the collar of his hoodie, inhaling his scent, dreading the nothingness that might come from it.
You hum, surprising even yourself when you can actually smell him. Clean musk, cedar, and sandalwood. He smells homey. But why couldn’t you smell this before?
“You smell good. Is this your perfume?”
Riki laughs, though there is an edge to it .”What are you doing?”
Ignoring his question, you take a step closer, nosing at the fabric with newfound determination, unaware of the now-rigid posture of your best friend. Riki pushes your shoulders when you shift closer, holding you an arm’s length away from him in a swift motion. You blink, taken aback from the sudden shove, and scrunches your nose when you sense a spike in his scent.
You frown—your senses were never this sensitive.
Riki lets out a small chuckle after a moment of silence—and you can’t help but hear the faint tremble in it—then ruffles your hair.
“That’s my pheromones, idiot, you know I don’t like wearing cologne. Did you just notice it now?”
Ah. His pheromones.
So you can finally smell him.
You pause for a heartbeat before smiling. So I’m a normal beta, you think, feeling the relief washes over you, I can smell other people’s scents too. It might be a bit too late to notice these changes, but you’ll take anything that doesn’t label you as the exception to the system. Anything to fit in, anything that doesn’t point you towards the other end of society alone.
“With all that sweat you reek of? Yeah, I just noticed it now.” You retort, throwing him a teasing smile, stepping closer again to nudge his ribs like you always do.
This time, the sharp inhale that Riki takes is unmistakable. He takes a hold of your wrist and brings it to his nose, sniffing at it like another bunny that reminds you so much of Jungwon just an hour ago.
“You smell…different,” Riki takes another whiff, “did you get too close to an omega?”
Your eyebrows knit. “No, that’s my scent.”
Riki’s expression mirrors yours. “But you never had a scent before.”
“I know, Jungwon also said it’s about time that I had a scent.”
“Jungwon?” Riki echoes, his voice clipped. “You let Jungwon scent you?”
You blink, mouth opening and closing at the sound of his sudden grim voice. “I—No? He didn’t scent me,” you don’t know where this feeling comes from, but the thought of Riki thinking that you were with another man, of upsetting him, makes your stomach drop. “He just sat too close just now. And he smelled me.”
You wince at how wrong it sounded.
Nothing else is spoken between the two of you, save for the distant chatter of passersby and the occasional sound of the library door opening and closing, letting people in and sending them out. You crane your neck to your silent best friend, his clenched jaw catching the hallway lights as he gathers his thoughts.
You’re about to say something to break the silence, but another deep voice calls out to Riki. You peek at his shoulders and see two of his basketball teammates—Heeseung and Jay—calling at him from behind. They wave when they notice your presence, and you wave back once before Riki moves to block your sight.
“I have practice until late. Don’t wait for me,” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes are heavy with something unsaid, giving you a gaze that sends shivers down your spine, slightly concealed by the fringes of his dark hair. You nod wordlessly, squeeze his arms goodbye, and watch him jog up to his friends, your mind a mess of everything that has just unfolded.
The day follows you home and into the evening shower, and the thoughts of your newly-discovered developed senses, of Riki, only stops when you put on your pajamas. Your favourite Kuromi set of wool pajamas, the one Riki bought from his last visit to Japan, suddenly sits wrongly on your skin.
It’s itchy and very uncomfortable, which is not what you felt when you wore it last week.
“What the fuck,” you curse, discarding the clothes in an instant. Standing half naked in your own bedroom, you inspect the fabric like a microscope to a cell sample. The fabric feels strange to your touch; it prickles like tiny needles that poke at your skin in an unsettling way. You drop the pajamas on your bed and start looking for another set to wear.
To your frustration, every piece of clothing that you touch doesn’t feel right. Too rough. Too itchy. Too irritating. It only stops when you find your long-forgotten satin nightwear—the one you shoved to the darkest corner of your wardrobe because of how tight it had become. You exhale, the exhaustion from the day pressing on your bones like a wet blanket, slipping on the only fabric that doesn’t feel like sandpaper on skin despite how tight it hugs your body despite yourself.
That night, you drift off to sleep and dream of a certain alpha with the most alluring pheromones, whispering secrets and oaths in messy sheets and slicked, tangled limbs.
The next morning, you wake up with a pulsing pain in your hips and lower abdomen. A groan escapes your lips as you search for your phone, checking the menstrual tracker with your eyes half-open. You are still two weeks away from the next cycle, but the pain is, if not more, merciless and unforgiving as ever.
But deadlines and tests chase you even in your sleep, so you brave up and force yourself to campus, all pained limbs and sweaty forehead. The painkillers work nothing to numb the pain, and you don’t want to risk going into the ER to swallow another one. So you endure. Or at least, you try to.
“Good morning, Y/N,” comes Jungwon, sharing yet another class with you. But his voice is loud, too loud for the morning to be good, so you snap at him before you can stop it.
“Can you lower your voice? You’re too loud.”
Jungwon stuns into a silence, gaping at you with his mouth hanging open before a flash of annoyances crosses his face. “Dude, I talk normally? What’s so loud about me?”
“You’re being loud now.”
Jungwon throws his hands in the air and plops down with a huff, pursing his lips in protest and refusing to speak to you for the rest of the lecture in an act of tantrum. You don’t say anything either, too occupied with your own thoughts, too irritated by the sounds of pens gliding across papers, too itched by the blouse you’re wearing, to care. At the first sign of the class ending, you bolt out of the class, leaving behind Jungwon and his unheard complaints about how sensitive and snappy you have been.
Sensitive. You’re sensitive all over your body, your senses suddenly reaching a new level of concentration that makes everything feel unbearable and irritating. You ditch the next class and go home, grab a new set of pads on your way, send a ‘sorry’ text to Riki’s lunch invitation, and sleep the day away in silk and satin. You dream of Riki again, of how safe you feel in his arms, of how much you like it whenever he towers over you with his height. You toss and turn all night, then wake up more tired than before when the first sunlight hits.
Weary and exhausted than ever, you groan as the aching in your body returns, and, perhaps amplifies, like something inside you is shifting. Like someone is renovating your organs and rearranging everything into a new layout, into a new system you’re too afraid to find out.
“Fuck,” you peel off every layer of your clothing and make home in your bath tub, basking in the warmth of the running water. Your muscles finally relax, and for the past two days of your pre-menstrual symptoms, soaking in hot water seems to be the only thing that helps. Only a soak and an odorless soap, though—because recently, your favourite sakura blossom-scented body wash has smelled too acidic for you.
When you’re done, you walk out to your roommate, Wonyoung, sitting on your bed with a stack of clothes neatly placed by her thighs. She looks at you with a scrunched nose, wearing an expression akin to concern. You greet her with a small, tired smile.
“Hey, Y/N. I brought my cotton clothes for you, but are you sure you’re okay?” She stands up and walks closer to you, touching your arms gently. “You don’t look good. And your scent…you’re distressed, Y/N. You need a familiar scent to feel better.”
You give her another dry smile. “I’m okay. Just PMS-ing.”
Wonyoung looks at you like she wants to say something but holds back. She rubs a circle into your arms, and for the first time ever, you can smell her—a soft, gentle scent of jasmine and warm milk, like a milk tea you get from a Chinese store. You sigh and unknowingly lean into the omega’s touch.
“Go to the doctor if it gets worse, Y/N,” Wonyoung urges you with a worry-laced voice. You hum and nod absentmindedly, not registering her words fully until she adds, “I think this is something more than PMS.”
Your stomach churns at her words, feeling the uneasiness crawl its way back into your spine. You wave a dismissive hand at her, attempting to look fine when you’re everything but. “I’ll get better after a nap, I promise.”
Wonyoung purses her lips, then nods. With a few words of comfort, she leaves your room, throwing one last look of worry before the door shuts with a click. You grab one of her cotton pajamas, feeling the smooth fabric with a content sigh and slip it on.
The buzz from your phone cuts your train of thoughts. Your heart leaps at the sight of Riki’s name blaring on the screen, hands scrambling to pick it up on the third ring.
“Y/N?” Riki’s deep timbre greets your ears, and you feel the hair rise in your skin. “Hey, where have you been? Jungwon told me you skipped classes today.”
Gosh, how you missed his voice. Overlapping schedules, his tournament preparations, and your aching body have become the reason for your lack of Nishimura Riki for the past three days. Hearing his voice now tugs something at your heart, like you need to see him now. Like you need to hold him now.
“Y/N?”
“Hey, Ki. I’m fine. Just a bit sore here and there, but it’s all good now,” you lie, because the last thing you want is for Riki to get worried about you and distracted from his practice. He can be a worrywart when he wants to be.
“You sure? Then do you wanna watch my practice now?” he suggests, letting a heartbeat of silence settle between the both of you before he says again, this time with a quieter, almost-shy voice. “I kinda miss your nosy ass.”
That gets a laugh out of you. You, in fact, miss him a lot too. “Glad to know it’s mutual. But what do I get? It’s too cold for me outside.” It’s not even winter yet, but your current condition has been acting like it. You shiver just thinking about stepping out of the comfort of your warm apartment.
“I’ll treat you to some steak after, your highness. And don’t be silly, I have my hoodie with me now.”
Something unknown stirs inside of you at the mention of his hoodie. It’s like something asleep is finally waking up, and your head is dizzy with the thought of his hoodie, his scent, his presence, him, him, him. You hum as a reply, already reaching out to one of Wonyoung’s cotton blouses.
And that reminds you: “It better be cotton, Ki.”
The basketball court doesn’t change from the last time you stepped foot on it, which already feels like years ago with everything that went down between you and your body. Your gaze sweeps over two groups of male players stretching and warming up, looking for a certain dark-haired man. But you stop in your tracks when your nose senses something.
The court smells…weird. You can’t exactly pinpoint what produces that smell, but the source is apparent: it comes from those athletes scattered around the court. You inhale one more time and immediately feel your chest tightens, the urge to turn around and leave suddenly hits you like a truck.
Too lost in your own thoughts, you barely notice the shadow that suddenly looms over your figure until that person speaks.
“Y/N, right?”
You look up and instantly recognise him. Park Jongseong, or Jay, one of Riki’s closest friends from his ‘only-boys’ friend group. You give him a polite nod, noting his still-dry jersey and slightly messy hair.
“Yes, that’s me.”
Jay’s lips curve into a boyish smile at that, and if it’s not for your huge, pathetic crush on Riki, you’d certainly let yourself fall for the handsome boy in front of you. “Riki’s gone to the locker room for a moment to grab something. Why don’t you sit at the bench first? We are about to start the friendly match soon.”
You agree without thinking, drifting further into the court like it’s routine. You’re a familiar face to them—the beta friend of Riki who always sits in the bleachers to watch him stretch and practice. You settle down on the bench at the furthest corner of the court, away from the buzz of alpha players and the smell that is getting pungent by the second, and closer to one of the goal hoops. Jay has gone to leave for a moment, but returns seconds later with a bottle of mineral water, condensed and wet.
“Have a drink first. He should be back soon.”
You receive it with a grateful smile. Riki always mentions how gentleman Jay is, especially towards the ladies. “Thank—”
“Yo, I already got her water.”
Riki strides in your direction, his voice playful but his expression hardens. He shoves Jay to the side, snatches the bottle given by him from your hand, and replaces it with another one. This time, the water bottle is still cold and wet from condensation, but is now wrapped by a few layers of tissues, just the way you like it. “Drink this instead.”
You beam at him. “Thanks, Riki.”
Beside him, Jay scoffs exaggeratedly. “I can’t believe you. Did it look like I was poisoning her?”
Riki doesn’t cast him a glance, his hands fast to untwist the bottle cap for you before you do, and miss the way heat makes its way on your cheeks. “You grabbed the wrong bottle.”
“Dude, they’re literally the same!”
“But did yours have tissues around it?” Riki shoots a brow up, and that makes Jay close his mouth. “Exactly. Now get lost, hyung.”
“Kids these days,” Jay mutters under his breath. He throws you another small smile before walking away with his rejected—or rather, discarded by Riki—mineral water. There is a triumphant smile on the younger’s face before he looks back at you already staring up at him.
Fuck, you probably look lovestruck. But you don’t find it in yourself to care in that moment.
Riki returns your gaze, his eyes trailing across your face before he ruffles your hair playfully. A giggle escapes your lips, trying to smack his hands away but Riki is always stronger than you. And that realisation makes something warm pool inside your belly.
“Is it still cold for you?” he asks, voice lowered and sounding almost intimate. You nod, willing yourself not to grin too wide when he drops his hoodie in your lap. It’s grey, bigger than your frame, and every inch of it smells like him. Like your Riki. “Wear this.”
The tension rolls off your body when you put it on, breathing in a lungful of his clean musk and sandalwood scent discreetly as Riki takes a seat beside you, his thigh brushing yours. For the first time in three days, the unknown force that’s been keeping you on edge quiets down, your chest lightens and your heart hums in contentment.
Safe. You feel safe. Riki has always been your safe space. But this time, you feel like you belong. Protected. You feel like you’ve been carrying the missing piece your whole life, and now it’s finally here.
“Better?” Riki muses from your side, watching you with an unreadable gaze, taking in the sight of your figure practically drowned in his way bigger hoodie. His jaw clenches, fingers twitching slightly before he forces his eyes back on you.
“Yes. Thank God it’s cotton, Ki,” you joke. Riki rolls his eyes.
“You know I only wear cotton.”
“Nishimura Riki!”
From the center of the court, Lee Heeseung, the senior you know to be the team captain, calls for your best friend. He groans, shouting back a ‘coming!’ before glancing back at you.
“Just a few rounds of friendly match then I’m all yours, okay?”
Your heart stutters at that. Then, subtle like it’s meant to be a secret, you notice the way Riki freezes, his nose scrunching slightly at something he senses. When his eyes snap back to you, they’re darker now, heated and heavy with something he won’t say. The short exchange renders you breathless, your voice barely audible when you finally speak.
“Yes. Okay.”
Riki lets his eyes linger on you for a moment before he nods. The warmth of his presence is instantly replaced with silence and coldness when he leaves to begin the match, and your heart deflates at his retreating figure. You grip the bench until knuckle-white, taking a deep breath to soothe your wailing heart, chest suddenly yearning for him to sit back on the bench with you.
“Get a fucking grip, Y/N,” you grit, head dizzy from Riki’s pheromones but your stomach is churning for no apparent reasons. “What the fuck is wrong with you lately?”
You decide to hyperfocus on the match commencing on the court to distract yourself from the confusing yet so consuming feelings that your mind and body have been going through lately. And it works for a while. You almost forgot how attractive Riki looks like when he’s on the court.
As if the universe had chosen him as the new gravity, every fibre of your being is drawn to him and him only. Your eyes follow his figure like a north-end of the magnet to the south, practically documenting his movement like a rolling camera. Riki moves like he dances; smooth and fluid, his reflexes against his opponent are faster than a venus flytrap. His boxy smile graces his features with every goal into the hoops, and you can’t help but let your heart flutter every time his eyes find yours with every point he scores.
You’re in love with Nishimura Riki. Your body knows it, your heart is no old news bearer to this. Heck, you think even your mom and Wonyoung know about this. Everyone does, except the person you love. Except Riki himself.
Loving him is so easy that it scares you sometimes. The hoodie presses on your skin like a symbol of his caring nature and a reminder of his platonic affection altogether.
You let yourself enjoy the match, the squeaking of sneakers against the floor becoming background noises. It’s a steady and peaceful match, or so you thought—until they start shouting.
It’s a friendly match, but an alpha's nature of competitiveness knows no boundaries. Your eyes flick to the scoreboard, the gap between the teams decreasing with each goal.
“Get your shit together, Taesan!” Heeseung barks at someone near the hoop, posture stiff, his booming voice makes your stomach twist. Soon, the air is condensed with adrenaline and rivalry, and before you know it, the palpable tension has already made its way into your head.
Your instincts kick-start at the heavy atmosphere, your nose twitching at the overwhelming pheromones that you sense. You gasp, the pain in your hips and abdomen resurfacing again, and this time you actually feel something shift inside. Your eyes widen in horror.
“Oh my God,” you clutch at the bench in desperation when you feel yourself falling. The floor catches you in a soft thud.
Somewhere in the distance, Heeseung shouts at a mistake the second time, leaving your nerves more restless than before. Your vision blurs, ears ringing with a pitch that is nearly splitting your head open.
The pain, the cramps—they stab deeper, they pulse harder, they scream at you that nothing about this is related to your menstruation. You groan in pain. The pheromones spiking in the air are pressing into your lungs, making every exhale of oxygen a struggle, your head spinning like a planet losing its orbit. Somewhere at the centre of the court, everybody freezes, the ball bouncing away with no one to claim.
Heeseung halts mid-shout. “What the fuck,” he physically recoils at the scent wafting in the air, his nose wrinkling violently, “there’s an omega here?!”
The room holds its breath with him, with you, before heads snap in your direction.
There, on the floor, you’re crouched down, noises of pain leaving your lips in breathless whispers. Your body is dotted with sweat, your temperature rising with each passing second, eyes wide and glassy. Oh God. Oh God. You clutch your stomach with a pained groan. What is happening to me?
It takes an alpha staggering towards you and a growl for all hells to break loose. Shouts come from every direction, Jay having to physically restrain one of their players from jumping on you. And among the chaos, there is one figure who stands still, a statue of anxiety and a pounding heart as his eyes locked on the outline of your body in his hoodie.
Another wail of pain leaves your lips and Riki finally snaps out of his trance. Without thinking, he’s already running towards you, snarling at another player who’s stepping in your direction and shoving him away with no care to the aftermath.
He drops to his knees, angling his body to shield you from the raging alphas behind him. His hands hover, not knowing where to touch or if he should touch you at all.
“Y/N? Y/N, oh my God—what—” Riki chokes on the intense scent oozing from your neck, forcing restrain into his mind and body. His jaw clenches when he sees how pale you are, panic mixing with a strange desire to mark you. To claim you. He shakes his head.
“Riki,” you breathe out, rasp and breathless, shivering from the cold despite your warm body. “It hurts. It hurts…”
Riki’s breath stutters at his name on your lips. It does something violent to his chest, like his ribs are caving in around his heart.
“I know,” he says, voice hoarse, forcing it low despite the way his throat wants to tear itself open. He wraps the hoodie tighter around you, hands finally finding purchase at your arms, your waist—grounding, anchoring. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re okay.”
You’re not. He knows that. He smells it—sharp, sweet, wrong. Too much for this place. Too much for you.
“Everyone back the fuck up,” Riki snarls over his shoulder, teeth clenched as another alpha so much as shifts closer. The sound doesn’t even feel like it comes from him; it’s deeper, rougher, edged with something feral that makes the surrounding players freeze mid-step.
Heeseung recovers first. “Clear the court. Now,” he barks, authority snapping through the haze. “Jay—help me.”
Jay’s already there, shoving bodies away, creating space with his broad frame. “Move. All of you. Unless you wanna get decked.”
Riki barely registers them. His world has narrowed to you—the way you’re trembling, the way your fingers fist weakly into his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go.
“It hurts,” you whimper again, forehead dropping against his chest. “Riki, it—”
“I know,” he repeats, softer now, forehead pressing briefly to your hair. His hands shake despite himself. “Don’t talk. Just—just breathe with me, okay? Look at me.”
Your unfocused eyes struggle to lift, but when they do and land on him, something in his chest breaks.
That’s it.
Decision made, instincts roaring.
“I’m taking her,” Riki says, already scooping you up carefully, one arm under your knees, the other braced tight around your back. “Someone call an ambulance. Now.”
No one argues.
As he carries you out of the court, ignoring the burning stares and the lingering pheromones that scrape at his skin, one thought pounds through his head, loud and unrelenting:
I should’ve known.
I should’ve protected you.
Riki likes to think that he knows you best.
You have been a constant in his life. Someone less than a companion, more like a feature infused in his system. The vital foundation. Someone that brings out the sides of him that he refuses to show others.
Fifteen years ago, when his family first moved to South Korea, Riki had already expected a dull, boring life. A six-year-old with every knowledge of Japanese but none of Korean, Riki initially thought that his parents were set on making him a loner.
But then came you. Knocking on his door with that small, soft fist of yours, hiding behind your mom’s legs the way he hid behind his mom’s. The both of you shyly looked at each other, listening to your mothers promising friendship and comfort in language that Riki was yet to understand.
Ever since that day, Riki found his life in a foreign country becoming bearable. Bearable, because his next-door neighbour is also his seatmate at school. You have always been the smarter one between the two of you, diligently teaching him how to read, to write, to speak in Korean, with a childlike patience that only someone like you could have.
Bearable, because his next-door neighbour was also a fierce kid, telling other kids off when they made fun of Riki’s accent. You were small, smaller than him, even, but the fire in your eyes when someone spoke badly of him made you seem bigger than the whole sky.
Bearable, because somewhere along the way; between nights of sneaking out and going home scolded, between every basketball match where your voice always sounded the loudest, between every petty fight and shared laughter during study sessions; Riki finally realised the way you have made home in his heart.
The way his eyes find your smile first in every joke. The way he looks for your presence before every game, and every time he scores. The way his heart aches with you when you fall sick, wanting the pain to consume himself instead of you.
Nishimura Riki is in love with you. The world seems to know it—except you.
Riki indulged in it, acknowledged it with his heart and arms open, until the day of his alpha presentation came. It was the first time in his life being away from you, separated from your warmth and presence. He spent restless nights dreaming of you, his instincts flaring at him to run and barge into the house next door.
The same way it does to him now.
Riki likes to think he knows you best, and that includes knowing that you’re a beta—a medical statement that broke his heart when he first found out about it because his mom is so adamant that he mates with an omega.
But now, as he stares at the text sent by your sister, Riki feels like everything he used to know about you dissipates, becoming the very air he inhales that makes his chest feel tighter and limbs heavier. It takes everything in him not to knock on your parents’ house, to force his way in, and cradle you in his arms the way his wolf tells him to.
future sister-in-law
y/n’s presenting as an omega
Two weeks went by in a blur. You drifted in and out of consciousness, your mom and your sister being the only thing you could remember from your fragmented memory. One time you were in the hospital. The next time you opened your eyes, you were back in your childhood room. Your body ached all over; it felt like your bones were shifting into a new spine.
When the daze of anesthetics finally wears off, a new day has already begun.
And you discover the earth-shattering truth with a shudder. It’s not only the day that’s new.
You’re also, apparently, new.
An omega. You’re now an omega.
“A late presentation, though rare, can happen, and your daughter is one of the chosen ones.”
You don’t know how to make of it. You just nod along, thoughts scattered everywhere, nose catching up scents that weren’t there before—or they’ve always been, but your senses only allow you to detect them now. The blooming rose, fresh rain scent of your mom. The citrusy pheromone of the alpha-doctor sitting in front of you. You have come for another check-up, a detailed medical explanation that your doctor has insisted you to listen to when you’re finally stable.
Your chest tightens as the scents sharpen—and you suddenly understand why your family always looked at you like you were missing something.
It settles wrongly on your chest, like a frame hung in a crooked angle. You’ve been wanting this your whole life—to be able to detect scents, to not feel excluded from the women of your family, to have a chance at love with Riki.
It’s not that you hate it. You just don’t know what to do with it yet.
“But that also means that you’re quite fragile for now until your first heat cycle comes,” the doctor speaks again, snapping you out of your thoughts. He gives you a reassuring smile, as if noticing your unfocused self. “And from the test results, it should come in very near time. Perhaps a week or two from now.”
“So soon?” Your mom sits straighter in her seat, leaning closer to peek at whatever medical result on the paper he’s holding. The doctor nods.
“This can only happen to late-presenting omegas. And since her body had developed way past its due age, it can be very dangerous if she spent it alone. She needs an alpha for her first heat cycle.”
That, finally, grabs your attention. Your body stills, the words hanging in the air like guillotine waiting to fall.
“An alpha?” you repeat, sounding disbelieving. The doctor confirms with a hum.
“Yes, a familiar alpha. Based on the examination, it seems that your presentation was triggered by overwhelming and heavy pheromones of agitated alphas. I was informed that you were watching a basketball match before you fainted, correct?” You nod, failing to find your voice to answer. “Omegas are very responsive towards alphas pheromones, especially when those alphas are running on adrenaline and being very competitive.”
Oh. You recall the way Heeseung’s loud voice shook you to your core, finally finding an explanation to the way your body reacted. You shift in your seat, suddenly too aware of your surroundings.
“And to tie it back to your heat cycle, Y/N, are you close with any of those alphas?”
The guillotine finally falls, cutting your oxygen like a cruel punishment meant to kill. You visibly stiffen, a certain face flashing in your mind like a broken record.
It’s your mom who speaks first. “Yes, she is close with Nishimura Riki. He was at the court with her.”
A small smile grazes the doctor’s lips. “Then that may be the safest option. Perhaps he can help with your daughter’s heat, seeing as she has no exclusive partner now.”
The doctor’s words keep looping in your head like a tape stuck on repeat—an alpha…a familiar alpha…
And somehow, you end up outside the locker room, waiting.
Waiting for the one person who has always been your anchor, whether you deserved him or not.
Nishimura Riki.
He steps out of the locker room with his usual lazy confidence, but there is a tension in his shoulders now. His hair is damp from a post-game shower, curly and messy, framing his eyes like velvet curtains. As if he was a radar specialised to sense you, his nose twitches, and then his head snaps in your direction.
There is a brieft silence between the two of you. You raise your hand and wave, and that’s all it takes for Riki to stride towards you with long steps. He drops his bag on the floor, not caring where it lands, and pulls you into his arms.
“Riki—” Your greetings die in your throats, muffled by the soft fabric of his hoodie as he tightens his hold. His palm, big and warm, cradles the back of your head in a firm yet gentle grip. You relax into his embrace, clutching at his hoodie, feeling grounded in his scent. He smells like soap and his own pheromones, and in the quiet, familiar warmth of being engulfed by Riki, you silently admit that your best friend does smell the best.
“God, Y/N,” he whispers, breath fanning the shell of your ears, making your skin tingles, “do you want me to die from worry? No replies, no call back. God.”
Your lips curve into a small smile before you break the embrace, putting a distance between the two of you to look at his face. His handsome, pretty face that you’ve missed so much.
“I’m sorry, Ki. Things were pretty rough.”
Riki doesn’t say anything. His eyes, heavy with care and unspoken desire, rake over your features before he slowly nods.
“I know. I’ve been through it too. How are you now?”
You bite your bottom lip, letting yourself indulge in his caring nature. “I’m good now. A whole lot different, but good.”
Riki’s face relaxes into a relief before he slings an arm around your neck again, his habit that you’re used to now. “Great. Now let me treat you to that steak place, you can’t say no—”
“No, Riki.” You cut him off, and that stops him in his tracks. Riki looks at you in confusion when you detach yourself from him, putting his arm back to his side. You throw the locker room a nervous glance, before looking back at him.
“There’s something…I must tell you.”
Riki’s scent spikes. You feel it like a soft punch in your chest.
“What is it?” he asks, voice too low, like he’s scared of what’s to come.
“I…you know I’m a late-presenting omega, right? The doctor says that I’m quite unstable now,” you swallow, fiddling with the edge of your sweater. The words are heavy on your tongue, like lead pressing on a mattress.
“My heat will come in a week, and…and I must spend it with an alpha to regulate myself back.”
Riki doesn’t move, and so do you. And in that moment, you feel it. The impending consequences that come from telling him the truth. But between losing a friendship with Riki, being denied from his company that’s caused by your unrequited love, and letting yourself into another person’s life, forever yearning for Riki but still remains his friend; you’ll always choose the latter.
Because you’ll have him, as whoever he is; as your friend, your unrequited love, your crush—than a stranger.
“Y/N—”
“I need Jay to be that alpha.”
His eyes darken. “What?” Riki tries to keep it calm, but his voice is low and tight. “What do you mean, Jay?”
You take a deep breath, suddenly feeling the walls too close to your skin. Across from you, Riki is staring with a sharp, heavy gaze, his eyes pleading for an explanation.
He takes a step closer. “Why Jay?”
“I—I mean, you always told me that Jay is a gentleman. And if you trust him so much, then I think…” your voice trails off when Riki takes another step, but you’re determined to stay rooted in your place.
“You think you can trust him just because I do?” He continues for you, his voice now an octave lower. You swallow.
“Not just because you trust him,” you say, voice shaky. “Because… because he’s the only one I know who won’t take advantage of me.”
Riki’s jaw tightens. His eyes narrow as if he’s trying to bite the words out of you.
“You think I would?” he snaps, then immediately regrets the sharpness in his tone.
His expression changes. Softer now, but still intense.
“I would never—”
You shake your head, too quickly. “No, Riki. That’s not what I mean. It’s just—” Your breath hitches, and your voice breaks. “You’re my best friend. I—We can’t. Best friends don’t do that.”
The words hit him like a strong wave, and it might as well be true from the way he falters in his stance slightly. You feel his distress before you smell it; burnt sandalwood and bitter musk, a telltale sign of his emotions. Your heart lurches in your throat, begging you to embrace and comfort the alpha in front of you.
But before you can do anything, Riki takes a step back first. He nods curtly, schooling his expression despite his scent.
Then he speaks, voice low and clipped, like he’s swallowing a scream.
“Yeah. Best friends don’t.”
“Riki—”
“I’ll ask Jay about it,” he says, his voice sounding distant. Your heart breaks. “He’s a gentleman. He’ll be willing to help you.”
Without waiting for your reply, Riki turns around. He snatches his bag off the floor, posture rigid and tense as he walks away, leaving you behind with guilt clawing at your throat. Your legs weaken, and before you know it, you are back on the bench, clutching at your heart and feeling like you have broken something you shouldn’t.
riki ducky
jay agreed
You stare at the text, the last and only text you received from Riki since that fateful day at the locker room. He’s been avoiding you like a plague, keeping distance, and ignoring your texts and calls like you’re a desperate ex. You sigh.
“I just—I don’t want to ruin our friendship! He’s the only alpha I want, but—” you run a hand through your hair. Wonyoung is slouching on the other end of the couch, listening to you like an unpaid therapist. “But does he want me?”
Wonyoung licks her popsicle and throws you a knowing look. “In my opinion, Y/N—you just need to go to his apartment. Trust me on this.”
You groan. “I just asked you that question! We don’t even know if he wants me!”
“Oh my God,” Wonyoung rolls her eyes, kicking at your thigh from where she’s sitting. “You guys are so insufferable and dramatic. Just go before I deliver you to him myself.”
“I’m not a parcel!”
“Just go!”
So, with reluctance and doubt scratching at your skin, you drag your feet to Riki’s apartment. It has been five days since he talked to you, and with your heat approaching fast, with your pre-heat symptoms wearing at your bones like a curse, you’re not sure if it’s the right idea to do so. He might kick you out. He might not even answer. Either way, it’ll be less embarrassing with no witnesses because Riki lives alone.
Stupid rich Japanese kid.
To your surprise, the door opens after the first ring, revealing a disheveled, messy Riki. His hair is tousled, like it’s been run by his fingers way too many times. His tank top sits snugly on his body, slightly crumpled and damp from sweat. His eyes, usually bright and lively, are now sharp and dark. You blink at him, taking in his unkempt figure swallowing the doorway with his height, before you finally ask:
“Can I come in?”
Riki opens the door wider like an invitation, letting you pass the threshold before closing it shut with a click. He lets you toe off your shoes, lets you lead him into the living room, lets you admire his furniture arrangement—though right now the space is untidy with unfolded clothes and discarded socks—but says nothing.
The hush between the two of you stretches, until Riki decides to break it, his voice low and grim.
“Why are you here? You should be with Jay.”
There is a hint of bitterness in his tone, and the spike in his scent just proves it further. You take a step towards him, careful and slow, waiting for his permission. When Riki doesn’t move, when he doesn’t stop you; you take another step.
“Riki,” you start, hands raising to touch his arms but dropping them back. Riki only stares. “What’s wrong, Riki? You’ve been avoiding me.”
Riki doesn’t answer right away, a storm behind his eyes as he only stares at you with a blank face. But the twitch in his jaw doesn’t go unnoticed. “I’m not avoiding you,” he mutters, a barely restrained voice that tugs at your heart. “Just busy.”
“You’re not even replying to me,” you speak again, hearing the crack in your voice. Riki stiffens, his hands clenching into fists. “It—It hurts, Riki. I don’t know why you can’t just talk to me.”
Riki says nothing. His mouth is a prison, staring at you like he’s figuring how to breathe again. His scent reaches you—clean musk and sandalwood—only now it feels heavier, like the fragrance has been pulled down by the weight of his emotions. The sandalwood smells faintly burnt, and the musk has a dull edge, like he’s been holding his breath for too long.
And you hate it. You hate it so much that he’s been keeping things to himself. In another desperate attempt to get him talking, you tug at his wrist, the skin warm under your touch, but you flinch when Riki snatches his hand away. Wide-eyed and caught off guard, you stare at him with your heart in your throat.
Riki takes a step back, his mouth curling into a tight line. “Don’t touch me. I—I can’t deal with this right now.”
There is a jab of pain in your heart at his words, but you’re not backing down. Not now when the only person that you’re scared to lose is showing signs of slipping away. Not now when the wolf inside you is whimpering, agitated from Riki’s actions.
You have an idea where this is all coming from. Truly, you aren’t that stupid to not notice his distance right after you requested to spend your heat with Jay. If you have to point in one direction, you’d say that Riki has been acting like a jealous boyfriend. Surprisingly, that speculation doesn’t bother you.
It’s the why that’s drilling into your mind, pulling you away from a good night’s sleep everyday. It’s the why that’s invading your thoughts, fraying every nerve in your system, keeping you hostage to your own overthinking.
Because admitting them will give you hope—and hope is a dangerous thing when you’re in love. Especially when it’s one-sided. Especially when it’s just you on the boat, drowning like a locked chest into the abyss when your lifeline, your Riki is walking away from the shore.
So you try to brave up. “Please, Riki. Don’t shut me out,” you exhale shakily, the words lodging in your throat, “if this is about me and Jay, you should just tell me.”
That seems to hit a spot. Riki scoffs, weaving his fingers through his already-messy hair, sounding disbelieving. “What, you think I’m jealous?”
Your eyes narrow, pulse racing in your ears. “It does seem like it.”
Riki returns your gaze, clicking his tongue, the one habit he does when he’s annoyed. “Don’t push it, Y/N,” he doesn’t hesitate his next words, eyes locked onto yours like he wants you to digest and understand them. “You can fuck Jay if you want. I couldn’t fucking care less about you.”
The words land like a slap, but it’s Riki who flinches. He stares at you, eyes widening, realisation dawning upon his features. But it’s too late.
Your scent takes a sharp turn, burnt caramel filling the air. You stagger one step backwards, and Riki’s heart lurches when he sees your glassy eyes.
You swallow. “I see.”
“No,” Riki whispers, his wolf wailing in regret at the sight of your anguished, crumbled face, “fuck, Y/N. I—I didn’t mean that.”
You shake your head, a small, humourless laugh slipping past your lips like something is breaking. And it’s probably your heart. It’s definitely your heart. “It’s okay,” you say, too calmly. Too gently. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”
Riki’s chest tightens at that. At how quiet you suddenly are.
You turn away from him, movements stiff, deliberate, like if you move too fast, you’ll shatter. Each step you take feels heavy, your body screaming for you to get out before you embarrass yourself further. Before he sees you cry.
“Y/N, wait!” Riki reaches out instinctively, fingers grazing nothing but air as you slip past him.
You don’t look back. You can’t. Your throat burns, your vision blurring as you make your way toward the door. The apartment feels suffocating now, walls closing in, every trace of his scent pressing down on your lungs.
“I shouldn’t have come,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. “I’m sorry.”
Sorry for hoping.
Sorry for loving him.
Sorry for thinking you meant more.
The click of the door unlocking sounds painfully loud in the silence.
“Y/N.”
His voice cracks this time. Not sharp. Not defensive. It’s bare.
You pause, hand resting on the handle, shoulders trembling despite your efforts to stay composed. Your scent curls tighter, darker—burnt sugar and salt, grief bleeding into the air.
“I can’t stay here,” you say softly. “Not if that’s how you feel.”
The door opens a fraction before Riki’s hand slams against it, stopping it from opening any further.
You gasp, startled, heart leaping into your throat as his palm presses flat against the wood beside yours. He’s breathing hard now, chest rising and falling like he’s been running after something he’s terrified to lose.
“I said I didn’t mean it,” he forces out, voice rough, desperate. “Don’t—don’t leave. Please.”
Slowly, you turn back to look at him.
Riki’s eyes are red-rimmed, frantic, his scent spiraling wildly—clean musk fractured, sandalwood raw and aching, like it’s been split open. He looks nothing like the composed alpha who pushed you away moments ago.
“I can’t let you walk out like this,” he says, quieter now, like a confession he’s been holding back for years. “Not because of something I said just to hurt you.”
His fingers curl against the door, knuckles white.
Your lips tremble as the dam breaks. “Then why,” you sob, pushing at his chest weakly, “why would you say those things? Why would you push me away?”
Your hands feel useless against his broad body, like you’re trying to hold back a storm with nothing but your fingertips. Your breath comes out in ragged bursts, and you can’t stop the hot tears spilling down your cheeks. The air around you feels heavy, thick with the scent of him — sandalwood and something sharper, like his anger clinging to him even now.
“I know, I’m sorry, baby,” his voice is quiet, not at all budging from your soft hitting. It’s strange how calm he sounds when you feel like you’re breaking apart. He grabs your wrists, bringing them to his lips. His mouth is wet, trembling.
You pause.
His lips brush your skin again, a gentle pressure that feels almost reverent. It makes your heart twist, because you don’t know whether to feel comforted or crushed. You’re still shaking, still sobbing, still trying to understand how he could make you feel so safe and so hurt in the same breath.
“I care about you too much. So much that it drives me crazy.”
Riki finally looks up, his glassy eyes mirroring yours. The sandalwood now hangs bare in the air, stripped of any traces of pride. He looks smaller, like the weight of what he’s feeling is pressing him down.
“I’m so fucking jealous, Y/N. I—I can’t,” Riki swallows, closes his eyes in desperation, and then he drops.
He drops to his knees, and the sudden movement makes your breath hitch. His neck cranes to see you, like he needs to make sure you’re still there. His arms, pliant and strong, wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you in like you’re the only thing that keeps him from falling apart.
You can feel his heartbeat through his chest, fast and wild, matching your own. For a moment the world is just the two of you—his scent, his trembling breath, your tears—everything else fading until all that exists is the raw, aching truth between you.
Riki buries his nose into your stomach, the fabric dampens with his tears. “I’m sorry, so sorry, Y/N. Please, and this time I mean it, please don’t go to Jay.”
Your hands hover at your sides, not knowing where to place them. When you feel the muffled sob against your stomach, you finally let them drop into his hair, caressing the strands like you do a puppy. And right now, in this position and situation, Riki doesn’t seem less than one.
“Riki…” you whisper, soft and gentle.
“Please don’t go to Jay,” he pleads, looking up to you again, tears clinging to his lashes. Your heart clenches at the sight. “Please let me be your alpha. Please,” he confesses, gripping at your shirt like a lifeline.
“I only ever know to love you, Y/N,” he trembles like a dead leaf, his breath shaky, “And it kills me to even imagine you with someone that’s not me.”
Your lips part, your hands in his hair stilling.
I only ever know to love you, Y/N.
You don’t move at first. You think you don’t even breathe. You replay his words, re-reading the sentence in your mind as if scared the alphabets might rearrange themselves into something else—something that would call you out of your delusion.
But Riki, staring up at you earnestly, handing his heart over to you in his trembling palms, is not a delusion. He’s real. And he’s here, with you, saying words you only ever heard in your deepest fantasies.
You feel your shoulders sag a fraction, like something heavy just settled into place.
“Riki, come here.” You tap slowly at his arms, willing yourself to hide your shaky voice. “You’ll hurt your knees, baby. Come here.”
“Come back to me.”
Riki obeys without thinking twice. His height towers over you, and when it used to feel like he’s as far to reach as he is physically from you; now it feels safe. It feels firm, grounded; a protection only he can give you.
You cup his cheek, gazing into his eyes with a fondness you reserve only for him. The tears come back, but it’s not from pain anymore. There is a tinge of hurt still, from the words he carelessly threw to protect his pride. But his confession, your revelation, take priority now. It presses heavy on your tongue, begging to be let out, to escape from the misery of your unspoken feelings.
“Riki,” you start, almost breathless. “I love you, too.”
Riki almost stops breathing, but you keep caressing his cheeks to remind him to. To remind him that it’s true.
“I’ve always been. Even before I knew what it meant.”
Riki takes in a sharp breath before he lets himself lean into your touch. Pulling you into his arms, he buries his nose into your hair, inhaling lungfuls of your scent like a stray cat finally finding a home. You melt into his embrace, feeling every hard line of his body pressing into yours.
“I’m so sorry for feeling scared,” Riki whispers, still wet from tears, “I don’t want to ruin our friendship. You’re too precious to me, Y/N. I can’t risk that.”
You hum into his shoulders, taking in the way his scent becomes warmer, the sandalwood now is rid of its burnt edge. “I’m still hurt, but I get it. I was scared too, Ki. It’s the only reason why I asked for Jay.”
Apparently, Jay’s name serves as a trigger now. Riki breaks the hug and looks into your eyes, now dark with a desire waiting to be unleashed. He cups your jaw in a gentle manner, but the grip is firm.
“Will you let me take care of you?”
You nod, and when his face leans closer to yours, you let yourself get pulled in by the force of his affection; of the desire now curling and swirling in his eyes.
“Will you let me be your man?” he whispers, lips just a breath away from each other now. Riki noses your cheek with a tenderness akin to handling a glass. “Hm? Answer me, Y/N.”
Your breath hitches. “Yes, Riki. Please take care of me.”
Riki’s eyes soften as he stares into your eyes before he finally lets his lips engulf yours. The kiss starts slow at first, careful and tender and wet, tethering on the new boundaries made after a line has been crossed, before it gets heated and needy.
Riki kisses like a starved man, like your mouth is a well of water to quench his thirst. His hands now wander; gripping at your waist, squeezing at your hip, feeling your body with his rough, calloused hands like he’s trying to memorise you by touch.
“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, his body pressing into yours. He breaks the kiss, breath now ragged, and stares at you with a new level of depth that makes something inside you flutter. Your eyes are glassy and dazed, and Riki curses at himself for letting himself get carried away.
“I’m so sorry. Is your heat near?”
When you nod, Riki moves slightly, but your hands are faster, clamping around his arms like a pair of cuffs. “Where are you going?” there is a pout in your voice, and Riki near damn coos. “You said you’ll take care of me.”
Riki’s jaw clenches, his hands flexing at his sides, a barely contained desire that he tries so hard to control. “I—I want to, Y/N, trust me. But this—” he gestures at the both of you, trying to create words from air, “this will change everything about us. We can’t stay as just friends after this. And that’s a big thing, Y/N.”
Riki licks his lips, eyes flicking to yours in a brief glance before he looks to the floor again.
“I don’t want you to make hasty decisions or regret anything.”
Your chest swells at that, and you couldn’t help the grin that splits across your face. Rubbing into his arms in soothing circles, you can’t keep the love and affection from bleeding into your voice when you speak.
“I won’t regret anything with you, Riki.” You pause, watching the man before you earnestly. God, he’s so handsome. You smile. “I want to do this with you, Ki. I choose you. And I’ll have you so long you want to have me, too.”
Riki doesn’t move. His eyes search yours, looking for the faintest hint of discomfort and lies. But when all he can see is your eyes reflecting his love, he finally lets the tension off his shoulders.
“Okay,” Riki nods, wetting his lips once more. “Okay. I—thank you for that, Y/N, truly. I was about to kidnap you if you said no.”
You laugh at that, eyes wrinkling in joy, the tension easing up a bit. Riki touches your cheek, thumb brushing your tears slowly before letting go.
“Can you wait in my bedroom? I need to call your mom first. She needs to know that I’m about to eat her daughter alive.”
A rosy heat blooms across your face before you hit his shoulders playfully. Riki throws you a smirk, shrugging with nonchalance.
“What? Aren’t I a good future son-in-law?”
“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes, but the wide grin you have betrays you completely. “Be quick, Ki. Don’t leave me for too long.”
“Oh, I will, baby. I’m a greedy man after all.”
Riki winks, and you groan. To save yourself from further embarrassment, you make a small run for his bedroom, feeling his eyes boring holes into your skull as you leave.
The living room seems to expand in your absence. Riki lets out a low, dark chuckle. He pockets his phone out of his sweatpants and makes a quick dial to your mother.
It’s just a brief call, with him letting your mother know what’s going to go down in less than forty-eight hours, listening to the relief in her voice when she realises it’s going to be him. After giving her his words of promises, Riki finally heads to his room.
The door creaks open and in an instant, a heavy, thick wave of vanilla scent washes over him. Riki staggers, gripping his phone in an attempt to recover from the smell of arousal practically dripping in the air.
His eyes find you on the bed, and the sight nearly takes his breath away.
There, perched on the bed, body slicked with sweat and completely naked, is you. You’re hugging his blanket to your nose, inhaling his pheromones, dizzy from his masculine, earthy sandalwood.
Your eyes meet his, glassy and dazed, drunk on hormones and heat.
“It’s hot, Riki,” there are wet noises coming from you, and only then does he realise that you have been fucking yourself on your fingers, using your own slick as lube. Riki feels his cock throb, eyes tranced on the way your hips move. “Smell so good, alpha, need you to fuck me.”
Your heat is here, and the trigger has been his own pheromones, which smells the strongest in his room. Riki curses under his breath, mentally slapping himself for overlooking the effects his pheromones over omega nearing their heat. He pushes the door close with his foot, not breaking eye contact with you as you moan, fingers moving faster.
Riki’s hold on his phone is knuckle-white, feeling the restraint leaving his body with every inhale of your intoxicating scent.
“Alpha,” you pant, fisting at his blanket closer, and Riki swears he’s leaking precum. “Need you s’bad. Please.”
Riki wills himself to not jump on you, hands clenching and unclenching as he tries to steady his own breathing.
It’s probably the hardest he’s ever tried.
Closing his eyes, he forces control into his system, chanting like a mantra that he’s here to help you with your heat, to make it less painful for you. That now it’s about you and not him, and Riki will pull the trigger himself if he ever touches you in any way that you don’t consent to.
Taking one last breath, Riki opens his eyes again. This time, there is a primal need lurking in his gaze, but it feels grounded and controlled. He circles the bed slowly, letting your noises greet his senses like music of sins. He puts his phone on the bedside and turns to face you, still not saying anything.
You scramble to kneel on the bed and pull him close by his waistband, fingers soaked and shaking. Your big, misty eyes peer at him through your lashes, practically begging him to take you.
“Riki, please.”
His rough palm cups your cheeks, breath getting shallow and short.
“Please what, baby?” he finally speaks, low and sensual. You pout.
“Please fuck me, alpha.”
Riki groans and finally, finally, leans down and captures your mouth in a rough kiss. You sigh, tugging his hair as you deepen the kiss. Your teeth clash against his, his tongue licking into your mouth, pushing back your moans into your throat.
“Such a needy baby,” he rasps, grabbing your hips as he moves you to the center of the bed, manhandling you with ease. You bite your lips at the show of his strength. “Can’t even wait for me, hm? Should I just leave you with your fingers?”
You shake your head frantically, choking out a moan when Riki slides up his clothed knee against your folds. “No, please. Need your fingers. Need your cock, Riki.”
“Yeah?” Riki taunts, his eyes darkening as you hump your cunt on his knees, desperate for friction and release. He leans down, silver chain dangling cold against your hot skin, catching the shell of your ear with his teeth.
“Tell me how much you need it, baby,” he purrs, leaving hot trails down the side of your throat. You tilt your head back, offering your neck like a meal. And what a fucking meal you are to him. “Tell me how badly you need my thick cock in your pussy right now.”
He sucks on the tender skin to leave a mark before moving to litter more of it on your skin. You mewl, gripping his shirt desperately.
“Need you to—ah—need your cock to fill me up,” you whimper, arching your back when Riki descends, closing his mouth around one of your nipples. He sucks on it like he does a lollipop, flicking his tongue at the perky nipple, his other hand kneading your other boob. “Need you to fuck me until I can’t think—ah! Riki!”
His finger finds your clit and flicks the nub, pressing and rolling it with a precision that has you choke on lust. “I’ll fuck you good baby,” he rasps, watching you with his sharp, dark eyes, capturing your expressions into his memory. His sweatpants tighten painfully. “But I need to prepare you first, hm?”
“No,” you sob, hips bucking into his touch. Riki’s eyes never leave yours, his arm still holding himself strong over your body. “I’m ready. Just fuck me, please.”
Riki coos and kisses your tear-stricken face. “I know, baby. You’re fucking soaked down there.” He groans, feeling another slick ooze out of your hole as if proving his point. Riki bites his lip. “But I don’t wanna hurt you—fuck, you’re grinding on my palm, baby.” Riki lets out a dark chuckle, letting you use his palm to get off. “So fucking greedy.”
You whine when he removes his hand, your hole clenching at nothing. Riki pulls your ankle to the edge of the bed, hooking your legs over his shoulders as he slowly kneels for the second time that night, his hot breath fanning on your weeping cunt.
He draws a lungful of your arousal and groans, the scent wrapping around him like a warm blanket.
Caramel and vanilla fill his lungs, and for a moment his whole body stills—like he’s been struck by how perfectly you’re made for him. Riki holds your gaze, refusing to look away when he licks a fat stripe on your folds.
“Oh!” Your hand flies to tug at his hair, a sob escaping your lips. Riki laps at your cunt again, humming at the sweet taste on his tongue, flicking that muscle between your slits before pressing onto your clit. You choke, squishing his head between your thighs.
“So good, alpha, feels so good,” you cry out, grinding on his tongue as he plays with your clit. “‘M close, gonna come, ah, ah—”
The orgasm jerks your entire body, your vision going white for a few seconds. But Riki doesn’t stop. His eyes are hooded as he drinks in your juice, lapping at your folds without wasting a single drop before he slips in his index finger.
Your body arches off the mattress. “Riki!” You scream, the stretch burns but it burns so fucking good. He slides in another digit, finger-fucking you through another orgasm, caressing and pressing the spongy walls with all the fervor of a hungry man. His tongue continues flicking your clit, the numb bundle of nerves sending a tingling sensation across your body.
Tears brim along your lashline, too drunk on lust and heat pheromones and overstimulation. “‘M close, Riki, ah,” you pull his hair, eliciting a groan that vibrates in your pussy. “Riki!”
Your second climax hits you in shockwaves. The man between your legs kitty-licks your pussy, letting you ride out your orgasm before he climbs onto your figure. His mouth and chin are wet from your slick, lips shining with sin and spit.
“You taste divine, my love,” he pops his fingers into his mouth and makes a show of his tongue swirling around his cum-coated digits, sucking on the remnants of your juice. You mewl. “I can eat you out forever.”
You watch him grin, still breathless from your previous orgasm. But the heat crawls back into your nerves and before you know it, you’re wet again, needy again. Riki knows it, of course he does. He settles himself between your legs, peeling off his drenched tank top.
Your mouth waters at his well-defined body. You’ve always known how hot your best friend is, especially after his alpha-presentation. He’s all muscles and sinful lines, sculpted by the Greek gods themselves. Riki knows he’s hot, and he never fails to show you that he knows; if his smirk is anything to go by.
“My baby’s been waiting for my cock, aren’t you?” His thumb grazes your bottom lip with a gentleness that clashes with the hunger in his eyes. You hum, feeling his eyes soften on you.
Riki leans down and gives you a soft, slow kiss. He pecks the tip of your nose before caressing your cheek with his. Inside, your omega purrs in satisfaction at the display of affection.
“Tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”
You nod. Riki nudges your nose with his, his mouth curving into a small smile. “Use your mouth, baby.”
“Yes.” You breathe out, and your legs hook around his waist without thinking, pulling him closer. You grind your bare cunt against his clothed length, slow at first, then faster, as if you need to prove something to yourself. The fabric presses into you, and the friction sends a shock through your nerves. Riki groans, a disbelieving chuckle leaving his lips before he straightens up.
His eyes never leave you. “So impatient,” he sighs, his voice low and amused.
He yanks his sweatpants and boxer off in one go, hissing when his cock springs free, rock-hard and rigid. You almost drool at the sight.
He’s big. Fuck, he’s too damn big.
“Cat got your tongue, baby?” Riki grunts, stroking his cock in languid motions, slicked with his precum, watching your face like a predator stalking its prey.
Your eyes stay glued to him, glazing over in a trance. You can’t stop staring, like you’re afraid to blink and lose the image.
“So big,” you murmur, your voice shaking.
Riki can’t help the triumphant smirk on his face, his alpha howling in pride.
“Too big, alpha, fuck.”
“I know,” he rasps, lining his cock against your entrance,“I don’t even know if it will fit.”
Then, with a single thrust, he slides in. You gasp, the sting blooming sharp and hot before melting into something dizzying, your stomach tightening as if it’s being pulled inward around him.
“But you will make it fucking fit.”
Riki pushes in inch by inch, noting every micro-expression of discomfort in your pretty face, your breath stuttering, hands gripping at him as the pressure curls low in your belly.
“Tell me if it hurts, love.”
“It hurts,” you croak, the words breaking apart on your tongue, wrapping your arms around his neck, mouth moving against mouth. “But it hurts so good, Riki.”
Riki kisses you through the pain, whispering comfort and praises into your ears, easing you into it. When he finally bottoms out, you almost sob again, the fullness stretching deep, heavy and overwhelming, heat pooling in your stomach until it feels like you can’t think past it.
“Still good?” Riki asks, jaw clenching at the feeling of your walls hugging his length. You nod, feeling the tension in your muscle unclench.
“Y-You can move now, Riki.”
Something dark glints in his eyes. “I can’t fucking move, baby,” he chuckles lowly, the sound torn and breathless, vibrating straight into you, “your pussy’s sucking me in.”
You moan at his crude words, your walls clenching around his dick. Riki lets out a curse before sliding out and thrusting back in with a snap of his hip. You scream, the sound sharp and unplanned, nails scratching his arms as your stomach clenches tight.
“S’tight, love,” he gives you another sharp thrust, hitting that sweet spot easily, breath mingling with yours. “Pussy so tiny, baby, fuck,” he growls into your ears. You nod, mind turning mushy from heat and pleasure. “Can you feel me deep inside your—fuck—tight cunt,” he pants, each word making your belly flutter helplessly, shoving his cock with a powerful thrust that has you seeing stars, “filling you up with my fat cock?”
“Yes!” you sob, voice cracking, breath hitching between syllables, wetting your face with another round of tears. The air smells of pheromones and sex, slicked bodies tangled in sheets. “More, more, more, please.”
“So fucking good to me,” Riki stares you down, eyes clouded with lust, drinking in the way your breasts jingle every time his hips meet yours. He moans. “You’re so beautiful, my pretty baby. Were you gonna let Jay see you like this?”
Your walls instinctively clench at the image, your stomach dropping hot and heavy, and Riki lets out a dark, wicked laugh at that. His gaze sharpens, his pace getting rougher and sharper as he looks at you with newly-lit fire in his eyes.
“You’re so fucking shameless,” he spits.
You whine from his harsh words, but your body only responds more, slick pooling hotter between your legs. The shame digs into your ribs, but the need overrides it.
Riki’s jaw twitches.
“Were you gonna beg for his cock, huh? You think he can fuck you good like this?”
“No—Riki, no—only you—ah, oh God.”
His thrusts don’t slow. They become relentless, each one harder than the last, his hips snapping in a steady rhythm that leaves you breathless. Your moans bounce off the walls, high and broken, tangled with the wet sound of skin meeting skin, as you shake your head, shame and lust clawing at your throat.
Riki lifts your hips and grabs your ass, the new angle making you roll your eyes in pleasure. You bite down on your lip, trying to hold back the sound, but the sensation is too much.
“Yes, yes—there! Fuck, Riki, more, please,” you moan, high-pitched and broken, feeling the familiar rush inside your belly.
His breath comes out ragged, his body leaning forward like he’s trying to bury himself into you. The heat between you tightens, and you can feel the way his length presses deeper with each thrust.
“I’m never letting go, baby,” Riki pants, damp fringes framing his eyes, his thrust growing faster and sloppy. “This pussy is fucking mine.”
“‘M yours,” you slur, mind turning fuzzy from the feeling of his cock splitting you open. “I’m only—ah—yours!”
“That’s right, baby,” Riki growls, pressing into your hips with a bruising grip. His breath is frantic, his voice pitching into a higher tone. “You’re fucking mine, shit—I’m close.”
“Please give me your knot—ah!” You scream, begging for his knot and cum incoherently, drool trailing down your chin. A stuttered moan leaves your chest when Riki thumbs at your clit, bringing you closer to the edge. His bulge is growing inside you, and you shudder in anticipation for his knot.
“Take my fucking knot,” he grunts, and you nod, mind going hazy from being fucked dumb.
“Knot—give me your knot—alpha—I’m—close! Oh God, Riki!” His name tears off your throat in a shrill scream, drowning out Riki’s low, guttural growl as he comes with you. His cock inflates inside your belly, pumping into you full and stretched, riding out the waves before he collapses on top of you, careful not to let his weight crash over you.
“Hey,” Riki whispers after a pause, brushing your hair from your forehead, his heart clenching at the sight of your tears. “Baby, is it too much? You good?”
You let out a low hum, closing your eyes as Riki peppers your face with kisses. Your body feels heavy, pleasantly spent, limbs loose like you might melt straight into the mattress if he lets go.
“M’good,” you murmur, voice thick and sleepy. “Just… a lot.”
Riki exhales, something like relief softening his features. He shifts carefully, cautious of the knot still swelling inside your belly, adjusting the sheets around you both, one hand resting warm and steady on your waist like an anchor. “Yeah,” he whispers, brushing his thumb under your eye. “I figured.”
He stays like that—no rush, no urgency—just tracing slow, absent patterns against your skin, grounding you back into yourself. Every now and then, he presses a kiss to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, like he’s checking that you’re still here with him.
“You did so good,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “So brave.”
Your chest tightens at that, but this time it’s not overwhelming. It’s gentle. Safe. You shift closer, instinctively tucking yourself against him, and Riki immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you in without hesitation.
“I love you,” Riki whispers into your hair. The thrill and adrenaline finally die down, leaving behind small tingles of love and affection that makes your chest feel too small. You tighten your hold.
“I love you too, Riki,” you sigh, feeling another wave of heat coursing through your veins. Shit. You almost forgot that you’re in heat. Riki only laughs when he feels your hole pushing out more slick.
“My baby’s so horny, yeah?”
“It’s the heat!” You hide your face in his chest, cheeks burning, then peek one eye open at him. Riki’s starry eyes hold yours, unhurried, like he has nowhere else to be but in your arms. You shy away. “Can we do another round? Please?”
He laughs, a deep, throaty laugh that warms up your chest. Planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, Riki meets your pleading eyes with a boxy grin.
“Of course we can, my love,” he murmurs, “anything for you.”
A comfortable silence falls over you like a weighted blanket. Riki rubs his nose against your scent gland, basking you in his warm sandalwood and clean musk, feeling you grow relaxed in his arms as you wait for the knot to deflate before you speak again.
“And can you actually bring me to that steak place after my heat ends?”
Riki snorts quietly. “Yeah,” he says, tightening his hold on you. “I’ll take you anywhere you want.”
jake's brain chemistry gets altered after he sees you covered in rose petals while taking a bubble bath with him.
w.c: 5.9k
themes: WARNING: smut, p in v, grinding, cursing, gf!reader, bubble baths, jake gets aroused seeing you wet and is obsessed with your chest, breast sucking, reader being a tease, kinda dom!jake putting you in your place, this is my first smut idk how to tag this sobs
author's note: i wrote this fic a while ago but this is the revised and improved (?) version & i decided to just repost it. this is a gift for my girl @simjakedly cuz i love her sm (everyone plz plz plz check out her works they're SO good). hope u like itttt nanda thanks for being my #1 on tumblr these past few months have meant a lot <3 (more notes at the end) (masterlist) absolutely NO plagiarizing my work.
sim jaeyun has a problem.
at least he thinks he does. he's definitely gonna have to search this up online somewhere to check if this was normal or not.
his eyes travel up and down your neck that's in full view with your hair tied up, across your shoulders, and the cleavage and swell of your chest as far as his eyes could travel on, before being obscured by the soapy suds from the bubble bath you had forced him to take with you.
but it wasn't seeing you wet from the bath and covered in suds across from him that got to him.
well, that too. but what got him really twitching underneath the water... was seeing the rose petals that he had gotten you for date scattered across the water and resting allll over your skin, some big some small, marking you like moles that he just wanted to kiss over and over again.
you raised an eyebrow at him. your boyfriend had been quiet for a while, just staring intently at you with that look for a while, the look he gets when he doesn't know what to do with himself when you look so delicious and warm for him (which honestly, was all the time for jake).
you gave him a small smirk. "you ok over there?" you called out teasingly.
that seemed to snap the man momentarily out of his thoughts. the boy blinked, eyes travelling up from the rose petals and suds around your neck, coming up to meet your eyes.
jake huffed out a sigh, leaning back against the edge of his side of the tub and sinking a little bit beneath the water, legs opening to go on either side of your waist where you sat opposite to him.
he gave you an annoyed look.
"why the hell are you sitting all the way there? why aren't you on my lap?" he grumbled.
you let out a small hum as you lifted your arms up from the water. stray, wet red petals sticking to your skin as you stretched them above your head, arching your back and puffing out your chest a little as you let out a small moan.
"but i'm so comfortable on this side~" you said in a teasing tone, acting innocent despite the cheeky smile you made no effort of hiding on your face
jake's eyes immediately went up to your arms before immediately falling back to your chest. your nipples were so, so close to being revealed, but the darn bubbles still kept you barely hidden from his hungry eyes.
your smirk widened. your boyfriend was just so obvious sometimes.
you brought your hands down slowly to caress your neck and shoulders before floating over your chest.
"besides, i think you like the view from rightttt over there, hmm~?" you chuckle, dragging the petals down your skin and over the swell of your chest, bringing them over your nipples and giving your right breast a little squeeze, lifting them over the bubbles so that he could get a better look.
jake's eyes darkened and his breathing and heart rate stuttered, eyes narrowing and darkening as he let out a little growl.
"the fuck are you doing?" he snarls, feeling his member twitching beneath the water, the telltale signs of him getting hard.
"hmm?" you feign, sitting up straighter and tilting your head at him. "i'm just relaxing jakey. are you not right now? is the water too hot for you?"
jake's eye twitched. "don't act like you don't know what you're doing." he said accusingly. "your sitting there all wet, covered in the roses i bought you for our date today, and you think my mind isn't screaming at me right now?"
you slowly traced his calf under the water next to you, running your fingers up and down his leg.
"and just what is your mind screaming at you exactly?" you tease, licking your lips, his gaze falling on the shine of your lips.
the ends of jake's mouth tugged down into a scowl, the top half of his body moving up to grab you.
"why don't you get over here so i can show yo-"
he's suddenly cut off as you bring your right leg up, placing it on his chest and stopping him from leaning towards you, your smile widening as you felt him freeze. you leaned back on the tub's other edge and gently applied pressure on his chest with your feet, making him lean back.
"hasty aren't we?" you tsk, watching the restraint in his eyes waver. he let you push him back, his eyebrows furrowing even more. you ran your foot down his chest, feeling it heaving, warm breaths falling over your foot as you dragged it down and down, stopping right over his member that you knew would be hard.
jake gave you a look that screamed 'watch it', before you're gently pressing down on him. you gave a sly smirk at the groan that escaped him and watched the water slosh around from the movement of his hips bucking up, watching him lean forward and hang his head, breathing in and out faster now.
he staggered in another shaky inhale as he looked at you through his hair that fell over his eyes.
"you think you're funny?" he hissed, yet made no move to move you, his hand coming down to massage your foot resting on his dick. "'think it's my turn to laugh now baby."
you tilted your head, feeling yourself become wetter between your own legs despite the water surrounding you. you sat up and grabbed a petal floating between you two. without breaking eye contact, you lifted it and gave it a slow, soft kiss. jake's eyes followed the movement, grip tightening on your foot.
your other hand lifted and brushed away the petals over your chest, now giving your boyfriend a full view of your wet breasts, bringing down the petal you kissed to caress over one of your nipples, feeling it harden and perk up at the softness of the flower.
you heaved out a sigh, bringing it back up and then flicking it at his face. you tried not to laugh at the stunned look on jake's face.
"that funny enough for you?"
you let out a yelp as your suddenly dragged forward by your foot, falling chest to chest against jake, the soapy water sloshing back and forward and spilling a little over the edge of the bathtub.
jake slams his lips over you before you could tease him any further, one arm going behind your head to grip your hair and the other winding low around your waist, moving you to forcefully grind down on his hard member.
you gasp against his lips and jake growls, diving back into you with his tongue, licking your lips and tongue furiously and just as furiously bucking his hips up into you, feeling your thick wetness seeping out and coating him. you whimper at the feeling, arms winding around his neck as you kissed him back harder, letting him take the lead.
he pulled your hair to tug your face away from him, tilting it upwards so that he could look down at you with a flushed, angry look.
"not laughing anymore huh? cat got your tongue?" he snarled. his eyes fell from your blushing cheeks down to your neck and chest where a few petals remained stuck on your skin. he's tilting your head back even more and opened his mouth to bite you right where the roses where, tongue coming out in between bites and kisses to lick at them as he began placing hickies on your warm skin.
he grinded you down harsher, growling at every little shaky mewl and whine that fell from your lips.
"god you look so fucking good." he groaned. "so wet and pretty, covered in roses. just for me, yeah baby? gonna let me cover you in marks the same colors as the roses, won't you?"
you let out another high pitched moan as you felt jake's sucking increase, feeling him playing with the petals over every patch of skin he sucked hickies over.
his dark eyes are hazy with lust, tracking every shift of your body through half-lidded gaze. watching as rose petals cling to your damp skin before he claims each spot with his teeth.
his voice is wrecked as he speaks.
"fuck. riding me like this while i mark you up? so pretty covered in wet roses baby... ughh..."
his hands grip your hips tighter when you grind down particularly hard, a groan tearing from his throat as water sloshes over the edge. the bathwater does nothing to hide how badly he wants you, not with his cock twitching under that perfect heat between your thighs.
he leans forward to catch a petal stuck to your collarbone between his teeth before sucking another bruise right over it.
"gonna make sure... every petal leaves a mark." he nips at your pulse point. "my fucking artwork."
jake pulls back just enough for you both to watch one single red petal drift between where your bodies are nearly joined, only for him snap his hips up sudden and rough, sending it swirling away in the ripples before sealing his mouth over yours in filthy claim.
the bathroom is thick with steam, the scent of roses and vanilla scented bubbles clinging to the damp air. jake leans back against the sloped tub, water sloshing gently as your thighs bracket his hips, fingers tracing idle patterns over your slick skin where rose petals stick like temporary tattoos. his eyes are black with want, tracking how each slow grind of your hips makes more petals float around in soapy ripples.
his voice is almost a ruined rasp. "look at you… fucking showing off now." his palm splays possessively over your stomach when you arch into another roll of your hips. "pretty girl putting on a whole damn performance-"
the words cut off in a hissed curse as you grind down again on him, bubbles frothing between where your bodies are joined. one of his fingers trace a petal near your perked nipple before he's slowly leaning down and licking it before encasing the bud with his lips, using his tongue to drag it towards your nipple so that he could clamp his lips around it and sucking hard, causing you to let out another drawled whimper as you grind down in jerks.
jake's heart skips a beat as he feels your body respond, of your whimper vibrating against his lips still sealed around your nipple. the bathwater sloshes wildly as you jerk against him, sending petals swirling in chaotic circles around your tangled forms. his mouth is still working at your skin, voice muffled and rough as he chokes out, "fuck, that's it- squirm on me. justtt like that…"
his free hand slips between you, but not before snagging a stray floating petal, thumb finding your clit with ruthless precision and using the petal to press over your pearl while his teeth scrape over the pebbled peak he'd just been sucking. the dual sensation has you gasping and eyelids fluttering, hips stuttering in ragged little circles as pleasure coils tight in your gut.
you took in a deep breath and scoffed, leaning forward to be chest to chest and wrestling your arms around his neck, causing him to pause his rubbing on your clit as he gives you a suspicious look.
"careful now," you whispered leaning into his ear, right hand lifted to slowly twirl his hair with your fingers. "we wouldn't want you to be alone in this tub now do we?"
jake's jaw tightened and he clicked his tongue in annoyance. "try leaving this tub and see where that gets you. i fucking dare you." he said in a low tone, clear warning laced in his tone.
you let out a little giggle, giving another slow rock over his member that had him clenching his fists. leaning over to hold your face above your boyfriend's, lips skimming his in a near kiss.
"oho~ is that a challenge?~" you purred, tugging on his hair with the hand that was twirling the strand.
nostrils flaring, the boy's dark eyes flashed with a dangerous mix of arousal and irritation at your teasing. that little tug on his hair sent a shockwave straight to jake's cock, making him twitch beneath you in the water. his jaw clenched tighter, instincts bristling at being taunted.
"you think this is funny, testing me?" he rumbled through gritted teeth.
letting out a him and pretending to think with a tilt off your head, you looked down at him with a sly smile. "well, just a teeny tiny bit." you leaned back down to litter his face with kisses, shivering a little as the movements caused you to grind over his fingers that were still frozen over my nub.
one second you were peppering his face with kisses, the next you were being yanked forward. jake's lips crashed against yours in a searing, possessive kiss that stole your breath, teeth nipping at your bottom lip hard enough to sting before his tongue invaded. the water sloshed violently as he hauled you fully onto his lap, one hand gripping the back of your neck like a vice while the other slid down to squeeze your ass roughly.
he broke the kiss to growl heavily on your lips
"teasing me? bad fucking idea."
then without warning, he flipped you around so fast bubbles flew everywhere. now it was your back pressed against jake's chest as the steamy air hit exposed skin for half a second before his mouth latched onto that sensitive spot where shoulder meets neck and sucked bruise after bruise into existence over where rose petals stuck there earlier.
he kissed up your neck and bit your ear lobe, opening his eyes to spot another stray petal floating in the water and grabbed it in a flash with his left hand with ease, bringing it back down to your clit where his thumb began rubbing the rose petal in slow, maddening circles, just enough pressure to make your thighs tremble but never enough to truly push you over. his other hand splays possessively across your hipbone, fingers digging in just shy of painful when you gasped and tried to grind down for more friction, one hand of yours gripping his thigh and the other ineffective holding the wrist off the hand that was running the petal on you.
he tutting mockingly into your ear. "aww, what's wrong? thought you could tease me all night and now this is all it takes?" his free hand drags up your ribcage to flick an exposed perked nipple.
the petal finally shreds from the relentless friction against your clit, leaving a smear of pink pigment on flushed skin. jake doesn't miss a beat, replacing it immediately with two fingers pressed together tight, resuming that same torturous pace while his cock throbs neglected beneath the water.
a broken moan escapes you, confidence suddenly diminishing as you jerk on his lap, grinding yourself down more on his now fully erect heard on.
jake felt your sudden shift, the way your teasing bravado crumbled into desperate, shuddering need against him. a dark, satisfied smirk curled his lips as he watched the back of your neck flush pink with every drag of his fingers over that oversensitive bundle of nerves.
"look at you… whining for me now." jake said, voice dripping with condescension and lust. "where'd all that sass go?" he bit down on the slope of your shoulder. not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make you jerk.
his two-fingered torture continued mercilessly; circles so light they were almost a taunt until finally he pressed down, firm and unrelenting while simultaneously grinding his hips up in one rough thrust beneath the water, letting you feel exactly how painfully hard he was. the friction alone had him gritting teeth.
the petal remnants floated around the two of you like pink confetti as steam rose off your bodies. jake's breathing ragged behind you while you squirmed pathetically between tortured pleasure he controlled entirely.
you turned around in his lap and leaned forward, draping your heaving wet chest against his and breathing hard, stuffing your face into his neck and beginning to pepper slow kisses into his neck, not pausing in your squirming but grinding down harder onto his fingers and wrapping wet hands around his neck.
you dragged your plump lips up his neck and kissed his ears that you knew were sensitive, nipping at his right ear lobe.
"sass is still there handsome." you breathed into his ear, threading and twirling your fingers through his hair and giving it a sharp tug, warmth blooming through your body from him hissing sharply and feeling his fingers twitch beneath your legs, loosing their rhythm. "bet you wanna fuck it righttt outta me, dontcha~"
jake's breath hitched violently the second your teeth grazed his earlobe, that one spot that always wrecked him. his fingers stuttered against you, rhythm breaking completely as a sharp hiss escaped through clenched teeth. the tug on his hair sent electric jolts down his spine, making every muscle in his body lock up for half a heartbeat.
"fuck-" his hips jerked upward involuntarily, chasing friction where he badly he needed it.
the smugness radiating off you was maddening. he loved it, loved how bold and bratty you got when teasing him. but right now? it was fucking lethal. his eyes burned into the side of your face as steam curled between you two; water sloshing wildly with each restless shift of either of their bodies.
you giggled, actually giggled at him.
jake's pupils dilate.
you brought a hand down to grasp the one teasing your clit, lifting it into the exposed air between you two, kissing his fingers one by one, nuzzling into the digits.
"my man really was such a gentleman today." you whispered lovingly, a genuine smile replacing my smug one this time. "took such good care of me, didn't you jakey?~"
jake's chest tightened at the sudden shift in your tone. the teasing edge melting into something softer, sweeter. the way you kissed each of his fingers so tenderly made something warm and possessive unfurl in his gut.
his thumb brushed your lower lip, watching with quiet intensity as water droplets slid down your cheeks from damp hair. the rose petals were wilting around you both. pink blooms sinking sadly into cloudy bathwater.
he cleared his throat, gulping.
"yeah… i-i did."
you hummed, taking his thumb tracing your lips into your mouth, licking it before giving it a harsh suck.
a trail of saliva connected between his thumb and your lips as you took it out of your mouth, looking at him from beneath lashes.
"hmm... thinking of giving him a reward. buttt i still wanna tease him a little. maybe i should leave him alone in this bathtub so he couldd take care of himself. does seeing me in wet petals do the trick for you jakey? is that all it takes?~"
jake's breath stuttered, his entire body going rigid as he watched the obscene string of saliva stretch between your lips and his thumb. his dark eyes tracked the glistening connection. hypnotized by it until you broke it with your words and that sinful little smirk.
for a second, jake just stared.
then something in him snapped.
the hand that you had been kissing and sucking went to grip your neck, a surprised gasp escaping your lips as you felt his fingers tighten, thumb pressing into your pulse point.
he pulled you forward, looming over your face as you stared up at him wide eyed.
a raw, dark look fell over his features, and you gulped this time in nervousness.
jake flexed his fingers around your throat, and he felt it bob up and down from unsurety. his grip tightened just slightly. not enough to hurt, but enough that you felt the promise of control in his hold. his gaze dropped to your throat, watching the frantic flutter of your pulse beneath his fingertips like a predator mesmerized by prey.
no words. just heat. just possession.
the water lapped quietly around you both as jake slowly but deliberately leaned down until his lips hovered a hair's breadth from yours, breath mingling with yours in thick tension.
the air between you crackled. every second stretched thinner and thinner with anticipation.
he looked over you, eyes half lidded now. there was a few seconds of silence before his lips moved.
a simple, hushed, "okay" was all you heard, and before you could process or question anything, his other free hand gripped your waist before he's suddenly slamming you down on his dick.
the sudden, brutal thrust knocked the air from your lungs. jake's cock sinking into you in one punishing motion.
water sloshed violently over the tub's edge as his grip on your waist turned bruising, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks while he held you flush against him.
jake didn't speak.
he just moved.
hips jerking up sharply beneath you with zero finesse, pure control taking over. the wet slap of skin on skin echoed off tile walls as steam curled around both of your bodies. jaw clenched tight, eyes screwed shut like he was fighting not to lose it completely right then and there.
every ragged breath escaped through gritted teeth. the pleasure almost too much after teasing each other for so damn long.
his control was hanging by a thread. each upward snap of your boyfriend's hips drove you deeper into winding pleasure, waves crashing against the tub's porcelain sides with every rough thrust. his free hand, the one not still circling your throat, gripped your waist, veins popping along his forearm from restraint.
he wasn't gentle. this wasn't sweet or slow. it was claiming. every ragged breath that punched out of him sounded like a growl. every time he bottomed out inside you, it sent ripples through both your bodies and splashed more rose petals onto wet tile floors.
the bath had long since lost its relaxing atmosphere. now it just felt feverish and electric between panting breaths.
jake's breath came in short, controlled grunted gasps, each one hot against your damp skin as he continued to pound into you with relentless intensity as he chased the friction.
his thumb stroked your throat, not squeezing anymore, just a possessive touch while his other hand slid down to grip your ass hard, helping each brutal thrust upward. every time he bucked his hips up like this? it sent a shockwave through both of you. the wet slap echoing louder than before.
you gasped at the intense pounding, both hands clattering to grip the one squeezing your neck. "j-jake!" you moaned, whining as he squeezed slightly. "nghhh... w-wait!"
but he still didn't say anything.
jake ignored your pleas. not out of cruelty, but because his mind was drowning him. the way you gasped his name like that? the desperate whine in your voice? the wet roses he oh so charmingly brought for you clinging onto your skin reminding him of the hickies he loved leaving on your skin? all that only fueled the fire.
his grip on your throat tightened a fraction while his other hand clamped down harder on your ass, forcing you to take every single punishing thrust with no reprieve. water sloshed onto the floor in messy waves. half of the bubbles long since dissipated from all movement.
he was lost. lost in the heat of skin and water and sweat. lost chasing that high only your body could give him.
no words came from the boy… just guttural sounds tearing from his chest with each snap of hips upward.
the rhythm of hulk of his body beneath you became erratic. thrusts turning sloppier, more desperate as the coil in jake's stomach tightened to a breaking point. the grip on your throat loosened entirely now, hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head instead, fingers tangling in wet hair.
he brings his face even closer, and you think you're about to kiss but then he stops just a shy breath away from connecting your lips. he just tilts his head towards you until your forehead connects, noses touching but still not fucking kissing you.
"you gonna tease me again?" he asks in a low and deep, serious tone, making you feel the vibrations as you lose your mind, clutching desperately at his chest.
you tried to keep eye contact, but the feeling of your orgasm creeping up and the way he was fucking into your body knocked all air out of you. "w-what- hnnngghhh ughhhhh!!" you get cut off by a harsh and deep pound that bounced you hard on his lap, grinding onto him more as your pussy clench harder around him.
jake's lips curled into something feral, a smirk that wasn't quite a smile, more of a predator baring teeth. the second you clenched around him like that, his entire body shivered.
he felt it. felt the way your walls fluttered, the telltale tension coiling in your belly that you were close. and jake? he was going to make damn sure you fell first.
without breaking eye contact or foreheads, he shifted just slightly, adjusting the angle so his next thrust hit even deeper, right where it would wreck you most, making you cry out. at the same time, his free hand slid between your bodies and pressed two fingers hard against your clit again. not teasing this time, but ruthless. rubbing tight circles with perfect pressure while still pounding into you from below.
the water trembled violently with each movement and jake let out a deep sigh that ended with a growl.
"i said..." a harder thrust "you gonna tease me again? my baby gonna give me what i want next time? or am i gonna have to punish her?"
his voice was pure gravel. low, dangerous, and vibrating with the weight of his dominance. each word punctuated by another brutal thrust that made your vision blur at the edges.
the threat in his tone wasn't empty. he could see it. the way your body trembled on the edge, how every nerve ending sparked from overstimulation. but he wanted words. wanted you to admit you'd tease him again… or beg for forgiveness.
either way? you were gonna get it.
his fingers on your clit pressed harder, enough that it burned in a good-bad way. and when he spoke again? it came out as a dark purr right against your lips.
"answer me y/n."
you shivered at the power that rolled over him, deciding that caving in right now seemed better then denying either of yours' release any longer.
you choked, lips trembling to get the words out. "gonna.... mmhmm... g-gonna be good. n-no more... huhhh... fu-uchkkk teasing- j-jake. please... im s-so close!"
the second those desperate, pleading words left your lips, jake's entire expression shifted. something primal and satisfied flashing in his dark eyes. that was all the confirmation he needed.
he rewarded you immediately.
the hand on your clit switched from punishing to perfect. fingers moving in slick, quick circles that matched the brutal pace of his hips. every thrust now aimed directly at that sweet spot inside you. every snap of his pelvis calculated to push you closer and closer to the edge.
a rough groan tore from jake's chest as he felt how tightly you clenched around him. your body betraying just how close it really was. steam still curled off both sweaty bodies, the water long gone lukewarm but neither cared.
jake felt the exact moment you shattered, your body tensing like a bowstring before snap, a broken cry tore from your lips as your orgasm ripped through you, waves crashing over every nerve. jake didn't slow down. not even for a second. he rode it out with you, hips still pistoning upward to milk every last shudder and twitch from your overstimulated body. but he wasn't far behind. the way you clenched around him in those aftershocks and the desperate little whimpers spilling from swollen lips sent him hurtling closer toward his own release with zero mercy.
his thrusts grew jagged, less controlled and then suddenly, he was flipping the both of you over, the front of your chest crashing into the edge of the tub with your hands gripping the edge and head dangling over, breasts pressed to the cool porcelain as jake grasped your hips from behind, lifting them up and looming over you, continuing his pounding to chase his release.
jake's breathing was ragged, his muscles coiled tight as a spring with the effort of holding back, just long enough to savor the way your body yielded beneath him. water dripped from his bangs onto your shoulder blades as he leaned over you, one hand braced on the tub's edge while the other gripped your hip hard enough to leave fingerprints.
the sound of skin hitting wet skin echoed off tiles, alongside jake's guttural groans right by your ear every time hips collided.
his release hit him like a lightning bolt, white-hot and electric. a strangled groan ripped from his throat as he buried himself to the hilt, hips stuttering wildly just as his orgasm tore through him, finishing and dumping everything he had inside you.
for a few heartbeats, he just shuddered above you, every muscle locked tight as pleasure wracked his body.
he didn't pull out. not yet. instead, jake slumped forward, forehead pressing between your shoulder blades and panted against your damp skin like a man who'd just run miles without stopping.
the silence that followed was thick… only broken by heavy breathing and occasional drips echoing in steamy bathroom air.
he stayed like that for a long moment. forehead resting against your back, both yours breathing slowly evening out as the aftershocks of pleasure subsided. the water had gone completely still now, just quiet.
eventually, jake pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder blade. then another to the curve of your spine. just affection in the form of light touches while catching his breath. the steam had long since dissipated leaving just warm humid air between both bodies, but your boyfriend made zero move pull away yet.
you felt him begin to slowly press kisses on your neck and shoulder blades, before he's finally pulling out.
the australian exhaled a slow, content sigh as he finally eased out of you, careful to avoid any sudden movements that might startle or overwhelm. his lips trailed one last kiss up the slope of your neck before straightening slightly.
the water was getting cold.
he reached over to turn on the faucet again, adjusting the temperature back to warm so fresh water could fill in where it had been displaced from all movement earlier. bubbles started reforming on surface, and rose-scented steam curling upward once more.
jake trailed his hands down your body till the landed on your hips, and gently turned you around, his hands warm and careful as they guided your body to face him. his dark eyes, still slightly hazy with lingering pleasure, scanned your face, taking in every detail. the flush on your cheeks till the damp strands of hair stuck to forehead.
you both looked at each other for a few seconds in silence, before he lowers his eyes down to your slow heaving chest, watching it rise up and down, eyes locking onto the bubbles and what's left of the rose petals clinging to your skin like a lifeline.
without a word, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. and then he's burying himself slowly into you again.
the kiss started gentle, almost sweet. but jake couldn't resist deepening it. his lips moved against yours with quiet hunger, the taste of water and shared breath mixing between you. one hand cradled the back of your head while the other slid down to press against your lower back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between.
you broke the kiss with a groan, feeling your walls weakly flutter and grip him, still wonderfully sensitive. "easy boy." you scolded him like you would a dog, flicking his forehead.
jake scrunched his nose at the forehead flick but ignored your scolding.
instead of easing up like a sane person would, he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, lips brushing over damp skin as he inhaled deeply. the rose scent clung to both of you now; sweet and floral mixed with sweat.
then he's lifted your right leg slightly, hooking it over hip so he could kiss down your jawline then lower.
lips traced a slow, worshipful path down your collarbone, each kiss lingering just a second longer than the last. his teeth grazed lightly over your shoulder
a full-body tremor ran through you at the sensation that had jake smirking against your skin. smug bastard. he knew exactly what he was doing. knew how sensitive you were post-orgasm.
his hands slid around to grip either side of waist as continued mapping kisses lower down then dipping toward chest with no hurry whatsoever.
he took his time. kissing every inch of exposed skin like he was memorizing it. when he reached the curve of your chest, his lips hovered just above one peaked nipple, breath warm against damp skin.
then finally he closed the distance. a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your nipple first, then a teasing lick. not quite sucking yet. just tasting an savoring how sensitive you were after everything that had happened.
his hands squeezed gently at your hips all while doing this, keeping you anchored close as steam curled lazily around both bodies once more.
you sighed in bliss, eyes closing and tilting your head to lean comfortably on the tub and running my hands through his hair, letting him do what he wanted.
jake melted into your touch. the way your fingers threaded through his damp hair sending little shivers down his spine. it felt nice, like something out of a daydream.
his lips finally sealed over one nipple, sucking gently at first, testing the sensitivity before gradually increasing pressure with each pull.
the warm water lapped around you both once more.
one of jake's hands slid up to cradle your neglected right breast, thumb brushing in slow circles while his mouth worked on the left one. the other hand remained on your hip, thumb absently stroking skin there in quiet rhythm. he switched to your other nipple after a few moments, treating it with the same devoted attention. kisses, licks, and soft sucks. every now and then he'd nip lightly with his teeth just to hear the little gasp it pulled from you.
at some point, jake leaned back slightly. only enough so he could press a proper kiss right on your lips again, softer this time. a slow brush of mouths that tasted like shared breath and love.
"next time..." he starts, leaning his whole body weight on top of you, grinning slowly as you scrunched your face at the feeling of himself nudging himself deeper inside, "just sit on my lap when i tell you to."
"sigh... yes sir...."
maybe next time you can beg jake to see him covered in wet petals too.
author's note: BAHAHAHA i'm actually so embarrassed right now GOODBYE- it's not that good it's my first time writing smut but i've really been wanting to write this one soooo yeah. idk how other writers write smut so well. hopefully this was good enough T_T
synopsis ˎˊ˗ you joined onlyfans to keep things anonymous—just quick content, easy money, and no strings attached. but when seven of the platform’s biggest creators suddenly subscribe, everything changes. they’re not just here to watch. they want in. the collab everyone’s been waiting for is finally happening… but this time, it’s not just for the fans.
status ˎˊ˗ 9/9 completed ♡
warnings ˎˊ˗ onlyfans au, poly! enha, exhibitionism/voyeurism, rough sex, slight possessive/jealous behavior, rough sex, praise & degradation kink, fingering, oral (m n f), unprotected sex, overstimulation, edging, orgasm denial, group sex, light choking/spanking, toy usage, etc.
natty's notes ˎˊ˗ this honestly started off as just a silly idea—a random “what if enhypen were onlyfans creators lol” thought that i fully intended to ignore. but then it spiraled. and spiraled. and suddenly i had nine chapters outlined, character arcs, and a reader caught between seven very unhinged men with cameras and control issues 😭 i also wanted to do something special to celebrate hitting 2k because holy shit—thank you. truly. for the love, for every reblog, message, and moment of support. you guys are the reason i keep going. anyways i hope you guys stay tuned for this, ilysm!
˗ˏˋ 01. new content dropped ˎˊ˗
˗ˏˋ 02. moan for the camera ˎˊ˗
˗ˏˋ 03. paid session ˎˊ˗
˗ˏˋ 04. boyfriend package unlocked ˎˊ˗
˗ˏˋ 05. my eyes only ˎˊ˗
˗ˏˋ 06. viewer submission challenge ˎˊ˗
˗ˏˋ 07. first timer ˎˊ˗
˗ˏˋ 08. watch me ˎˊ˗
˗ˏˋ 09. the final drop ˎˊ˗
⊹ ࣪ ˖ all content is original work by @heeluvv
↳ reuploads, translations, or plagiarism are not allowed.
> warnings — rom-com, humor, fluff and smut, reader is in a constant state of stress, descriptions of a small panic attack, heeseung is referred to as woody (it makes sense i swear), ariana grande is mentioned a handful of times, slight angst (for the plot yk), lots of refrences to marriage and getting married (this one might be obvious) // p in v, oral f! receiving, soft sex, missionary, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink
> notes — my first published fic on this blog… gulp. kinda nervous. but please enjoy me spreading the blonde heeseung agenda. also i think you can tell that i like ariana grande after you read this.. still. i really hope you guys enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it. reblogs are so so appreciated and i love to hear from you guys!
What do you do when your ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend invite you to their wedding?
You ignore it. You don’t go, because, really, why would you? You don’t owe them some false sense of forgiveness simply because they assume enough time has passed for there to be no hard feelings. Any rational person knows that.
But…you are a people pleaser to the highest degree. It’s a trait that your mom used to say made you so good while your dad mumbled how it would get you in trouble one day. Seems one of them was right.
So now you’re sitting at the farthest corner table of the massive venue, a glass of wine swirling in your hand as the best-man gives his speech. He says something about the obstacles the couple overcame, how they managed to make something beautiful out of a bad situation.
The bad situation, of course, being you.
You aren’t sure how someone is able to make cheating on their girlfriend of six years with her childhood best friend seem like some kind of detour to getting a happy ending, but they do. And now people are cooing at it like their story is something out of a shitty rom-com on the Hallmark channel. You don’t miss the way people glance back at you either, like they’re waiting for you to either scream or cry. Maybe both. You just shoot them tight smiles, fingers tightening around your glass like it’ll ground you. (Newsflash, it doesn't.)
The night continues like that. You, sitting in the back corner wondering why you even came while people shoot you sympathetic looks. It’s kind of pathetic honestly. You should probably leave.
You can see Luke up there with Mandy, her shoulders shaking when she laughs at something he says. He looks at her differently than how he looked at you. He looks at her like she’s the gravity holding him onto earth–like he’d move the moon and stars if she simply asked. It’s sickening and…a little hurtful. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud.
Sometimes you wonder how you didn’t see it. Looking back, it was obvious. All the lingering looks. The way Luke always made an excuse as to why he couldn’t come over when Mandy was in town. They barely even tried to hide it and you still hadn’t seen it.
You sigh, sinking further into your chair. You wish this wine was stronger. You wish you hadn’t come. You wish–
“If you scoot down any more you’re going to fall off your chair.”
You blink, the sudden voice catching you off guard. You weren’t aware anyone was even behind you considering the majority of the attendees were either interacting with family-friends or dancing in the center of the room. The thought of a stranger seeing you like this should make you straighten up. It should make you mumble out a soft apology and then try not to die from mortification.
But, instead, all you can manage is a soft, “True.”
You don’t try to sit up. You don’t turn to look at him. You just stay frozen, your eyebrows knitted and lips twisted in a painful grimace, watching as Luke feeds Mandy a piece of cake. Strawberry, of course. Your mutual favorite, The one you’d bonded with him over when you’d first met.
The stranger doesn’t say anything else. Just quietly slips into the open seat next to you. The one covered in crumbs left by one of Luke’s younger cousins. You’d met the kid back when you and Luke were still together. He was one of those obnoxious kids always covered in a mysterious sticky substance with constant red rimmed lips. You couldn’t stand him back then, and you still can’t now. So it seems only fitting that you’d end up in the seat next to him.
Silence stretches again, not uncomfortable, but definitely not comfortable either. Just there. Just kind of awkward. Like you’re two middle schoolers at a school dance together waiting to see who makes the first move.
“So,” The stranger starts again, his voice casual and low, like you’re two best friends catching up. “Which one is it?”
Your gaze flicks over to him lazily, eyes catching on the side of his face. His hair falls over his eyes effortlessly, blonde strands framing him in that casually messy kind of way only a few men can pull off. He’s not looking at you, which your partially grateful for, and instead his eyes are trained where yours once were. On them.
But he isn’t looking at them like they’re the cutest thing he’d ever seen like everyone else is. In fact, you think he might be glaring at them. It nearly tugs a smile at your lips. At least you aren’t the only one here with a grudge.
You cross your arms over your chest, ignoring the way your lower spine has begun to slightly ache from your position. “Both,” You mumble, pulling your eyes away from him again. “You?”
He takes a moment to respond, like he’s deciding if he wants to answer. You think it’s only fair he does considering you did, but maybe he was trying to continue this mysterious cool guy act he had going on. You don’t really care either way.
He huffs out a breath, lips quirking slightly at the corners. “Neither.”
That catches your attention, because he says it like it’s a joke. Like he knows something you don’t. You straighten up finally, trying to pretend it’s because you wanted to and not because your back was starting to ache something mean.
He looks at you then, brown eyes glowing even under the dim lights. He looks…dangerous, as cringe inducing as that is. Like he’s playing a prank and you’re a part of it. Whether it’s as an accomplice or the punchline, you aren’t sure. You don’t think he is, either.
You squint your eyes at him, crossing your legs in an attempt to look serious. “What’d you say your name was again?”
He shrugs, fixing his tie like he’s attempting to be casual, but you know it’s because it’s hanging loosely across his neck in a way that screams i’m a grown man who can’t tie a tie. “What do you want it to be?”
You blink, your back hitting the seat when you lean back. It’s not like you’ve never had any weird interactions with people before. You were an awkward kid in high school and college, so bad interactions were kind of your thing. But this is different. This isn’t an uncomfortable game of spin-the-bottle that ends with your lip bleeding and a mutual agreement to avoid each other for the rest of your lives, this is something you aren’t sure how to navigate. You really aren’t even sure how you would go about attempting to.
You hum, blinking lazily. “I want you to just tell me,” You mumble, heeled foot tapping against the floor. “But I also know professional wedding crashers don’t usually share that information.”
He lets out a breathy laugh, his hand covering his eyes for a moment before falling back at his side. He smiles at you, lips revealing his teeth in a way that makes your stomach turn, even though it really shouldn’t. “You’re observant.” He mumbles, like he was expecting you to catch him. Like he wanted you to.
“Yeah, well,” you shrug, taking another sip of your wine, “I know everyone here except for you.”
“What if I’m the brides super extended twice removed uncle?”
You don’t even spare him a glance. “You’re not.”
A beat passes, like he’s trying to decide where he wants to take the conversation. You think he wants to ask you why you’re so miserable back here, what you’d meant when you said both earlier. But he doesn’t. Instead he just stands and offers a hand to you without a word.
You look up at him, tie hanging at an angle against his neck despite his attempt at fixing it earlier, lips curved into a smooth smirk like he knows what you’ll do next, brown eyes sparkling with something you can’t quite place.
You shouldn't take his hand. You should leave and pretend none of this ever happened and go back to living your life.
But instead, for reasons you’ll claim as a strange lapse in judgment later on, your hand finds his. You let him pull you onto your feet, don’t protest when he maneuvers so he’s holding your waist. Don’t make a noise when he saunters onto the dance floor with you, making sure you’re right in Luke and Mandy’s view.
“What’re you doing?” You ask, albeit a little breathless. The stranger just hums, his hands finding your waist again, more firm this time–confident. You can see Luke watching you from the corner of your eye, his nose scrunched in that way it always does when something confuses him. Mandy’s too busy talking to one of your old mutual friends, one of the many who had chosen her in the breakup and not you.
The sight of it makes you frown slightly. You focus back on the blonde man in front of you again, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach that never seems to leave. His lips are twisted upwards, staring at you like he can see right through you. Like maybe this was the entire reason he’d come tonight.
“Do you trust me?” He asks, loud enough that only you can hear it. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your nose, to your lips, and then up again. Like he’s studying your reactions.
You frown, letting your arms wrap around his neck. “Absolutley not.”
He hums, low and deep, leaning into you in a way that has your head spinning. “Good.”
And then his lips are on yours, kissing you slow and deep. It’s the kind of kiss that screams desperation, one that should mean nothing–but means everything. And it’s strange, because you should pull away. Should slap him for doing this before he even tells you his name. But you don’t do any of that. Instead, you melt into it and kiss him back just as hungrily.
His lips are slightly chapped from the cold weather, but your own lipgloss does good to mask it. One of his hands trails from your waist to your cheek, tilting your face and forcing you impossibly closer. His tongue slips out for a brief moment, smoothing against your lip, and you swear you die right there.
It’s messy and too much but somehow not enough. He kisses you like a man-starved, and it nearly makes your head spin.
You aren’t sure who pulls away first, all you know is that when you do your chest is heaving and Luke and Mandy are speedwalking away towards something you can’t see.
You blink after a moment, the post-kiss fog clearing in your brain and reminding you that you do not know this man.
And yet he just kissed you like he’d been wanting to do it for years.
You want to be angry, you want to scream and ask him what the fuck is wrong with him. But instead, you laugh. A real, chest laugh that comes from somewhere deep in your stomach. He’s smiling too, the tips of his ears a fiery red. The first sign that he’s at least somewhat capable of embarrassment and not completely immune to every human emotion aside from spontaneity.
“You’re insane.” It comes out teasing, like something you’d say in passing to a friend, but you mean it.
He just shrugs, the hand still attached to your waist tightening just slightly. You can feel his fingers digging into your skin, but it isn’t painful. Just a reminder that he was there. That he’d just kissed you breathless after meeting you barely ten minutes ago.
“It’s charming, though, right?” He asks, eyes flickering behind you when some kid, you’re assuming Luke’s sticky cousin, starts crying.
You snort, rolling your eyes. “Charmings one word for it.”
“Come on,” He insists, “If I hadn’t shown up you would’ve still been sinking to the floor in the corner like some kind of sad clay statue.”
You raise a brow, “Okay, weird comparison.” You mumble, doing your best to ignore the smile threatening to break through again. “But…you still haven’t told me your name.”
He nods, looking at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like the fact he was keeping his identity a secret from you was something he always did. It was weird, but, also kind of exciting?
God, you’ve got serious issues.
“Would it make you feel better if I just came up with one?”
You raise a brow, “Is it your real one?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
Your eyes narrow suspiciously, tongue pushing against your cheek in frustration. You don’t understand why he’s being so stingy about it. What kind of person sees kissing as less intimate then telling you his name? “If I tell you my name will you tell me yours?” You ask.
He lets out a breathy laugh, that cheeky smile he’s been sporting since you kissed never wavering. “No promises.”
You weigh your options in your mind. On one hand, you tell him your name and he keeps up this weird game of his and he gets the upper hand. On the other, you don’t tell him your name and you gain nothing and spend the rest of the night wondering what would’ve happened if you just told him. Plus, what if he’s feeling extra nice and decides to just tell you?
Either way, you were getting pretty sick of referring to him as the sexy stranger.
“Y/N,” You murmur, tone loud enough so he can hear over the sickeningly romantic music blasting through the venue speakers. Some sixties song you’d never heard before. “My name.”
He pauses, like the fact that you’d actually told him shocks him, and for the first time that smile of his falters. For some reason, it feels like a mini victory. But, he picks himself back up just as quickly, and suddenly it feels like you imagined all of it.
“Y/N,” he mumbles like he’s testing the name on his tongue. “Suits you.”
You shift on your feet, handle clasping together behind his neck. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, searching his face like you’ll find something in it. An answer, maybe. An explanation as to who he was when he wasn’t doing whatever the hell this was.
“It means it’s pretty,” He says easily, eyes never leaving yours, “And it suits you.”
You swallow, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. He says it so easily, like it’s an undeniable fact that he doesn’t even need to think twice about. Like saying the sky is blue. You hate that it makes your cheeks flush and butterflies light up in your stomach.
You let out a breath, trying to calm your buzzing nerves. “Whatever,” You mumble, “I told you mine. Your turn.”
He stares at you silently, like he’s studying you. Trying to piece together what the best course of action would be. To you, it’s obvious. Tell you his name, and then…yeah. You’d figure it out from there. But the only way things could progress was if you knew the most basic piece of information about him.
He just smiles, hands sliding up your arms looped around his neck and grabbing your wrists gently. He pulls them down, letting one fall down to your side and intertwining his own with the other.
“How would you feel about eating processed food that’ll probably kill us before we turn forty?” He asks, completely avoiding the topic. You part your lips to argue with him on it, ask him why you should go with him when he won’t even tell you his name, but nothing comes out. When he tugs you gently behind him, you don’t pull away. You let him lead you out of the building and into the empty parking lot.
The suns just barely began to set, casting the sky in different shades of pink and yellow. The moon fades slightly into the sky, not fully showing, but making its presence known. The air’s got a sharp chill to it, one that makes goosebumps rise across your skin, but isn’t completely unbearable.
“Where are we going?” You ask, heels clicking frantically against the pavement as he drags you away from your past. Away from worlds of hurt and towards something new. Something that feels too real for what it is.
You should be scared. You don’t really know—him, and yet you’re letting him lead you away from civilization. Even if that civilization is the families of the worst people you know.
He glances back at you, shrugging his shoulders casually. “You’re hungry, right?”
“I guess—”
He hums, finally stopping in front of a sleek black car. “Then let’s go eat.”
You blink, watching as he opens the passenger door for you and waits for you to step in.
Your lips twist uncomfortably, gaze switching between the suspiciously nice car and him. “This is yours?” You ask. You don’t mean for it to come out so accusatory, but what else were you supposed to think? The man crashes weddings for fun. Not exactly rich-and-has-his-life-together behavior.
He tilts his head slightly, leaning against the door. “What? I don’t look I could own a car like this?” He asks playfully. You know he’s teasing you, but it still makes your skin bristle.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” You say sharply, glaring at him through your lashes.
He just chuckles, gesturing towards the open door once again. “Come on,” He mumbles, eyes glinting playfully. “Or don’t. I can’t make you do anything.”
Part of you knows the sensible thing to do would be to go back into that building and pretend the last half an hour never happened. Go back to watching Luke and fucking Mandy be happy and in love as if they hadn’t stomped all over you to get there.
You get into the car without any more hesitance.
He smirks, shutting the door behind you and walking around the front to get to the driver's seat.
You let yourself look around as he does. A yellow tree air freshener hangs off of the rearview mirror—typical of a man really—and there’s a small collection of CD’s next to your feet.
You pick them up mindlessly when he finally slides in next to you, flipping through them like they might have his name engraved into them. (They don’t.)
There’s some stuff you kind of expected, like Queen and Metallica. Some Indie 2000’s band that people only listened to so they could feel different. But only one catches your eye.
“Ariana Grande? Really?” You snort, holding up the disc. Ariana Grande’s ‘My Everything’ sits between your fingers, her iconic stool photo shining back at you. You remember you’d tried to recreate it in middle school and sprained your ankle. Safe to say, lessons were learned that day.
He doesn’t even flinch, just plucks it out of your hands and pushes it into the car’s built in cd player. You think it’s kind of cute that he still uses it despite the fact his car is new enough to have an apple carplay screen.
“Love Me Harder is one of the best songs ever made,” He says, tongue swiping over his lips as he shoots you a look from the corner of his eye. You don’t argue, because, yeah, it is. You’re just a little shocked that he would think so.
He puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the parking space with ease, glancing behind him with a practiced confidence. You watch him do it, studying him without shame.
He’s different from anyone you’ve ever met. Mysterious, really, even if it makes you want to roll your eyes until thy get stuck in the back of your head. But there’s something else to him, something that feels nearly familiar. You wrack your brain to try to remember, but nothing comes up.
His eyes catch yours, that same, cunning grin curling into his lips. The one that made your stomach turn and nerves fry when he’d first sat down with you at the beginning of the night. The same one he’d given you when he’d kissed you breathless like you were two lovers and not two strangers.
And it’s then that you realize that you are irrevocably and extremely royally screwed.
When you’d gotten up this morning you expected the night to end the way they usually do nowadays. You, lying in your bed, doomscrolling until questionable hours of the night, hating yourself for it but still continuing to do so. Although this time you imagined there’d probably be some tears involved, because you are nothing if not overly sensitive. And they wouldn't be pretty tears either, no, they'd be ugly, fat boulders rolling down your cheeks like they were claiming a permanent space over your heart.
But that doesn't happen. Instead, you’re sitting on a suspiciously damp curb outside of some run-down Taco Bell infested with teenagers, eating a soft taco while what you’re really hoping is just mud seeps into your dress.
Blondie, what you’ve chosen to call him until you can come up with something better, sits beside you. His legs are stretched out into the street, face illuminated by the glowing neon Open sign as he takes a sip of his Baja Blast.
He's pretty in a way that should be illegal. Features fitting together like a finished puzzle, the kind of boy with a smile women pray their children have.
The drive here hadn't been uncomfortable, mostly because he seemed to be good at making small talk into some kind of casual conversation. Where you would've been awkward, he seems smooth. It's kind of impressive, but you also envy the talent.
He glances at you, placing his cup beside him and leaning back on his hands. “So, what happened?”
You blink. You know he’s asking about Luke and Mandy–about why you were there if you clearly had some kind of bitter history with them. But the truth is…you aren’t even sure yourself. Maybe deep down you were just some kind of masochist who enjoyed the ache seeing them brought to your heart. Or maybe you just wanted to feel like you finally had the upper hand when you all know you don’t. Either way, every outcome ended with you losing.
You lean your elbows onto your knees, hair falling over your shoulder as you turn your face towards him. “What do you mean?”
He doesn’t respond. Just stares at you knowingly, head tilting until his ear nearly brushes his shoulder. He raises his eyebrows at you, as if to say, Really? Playing dumb?
You hate that you break so easily.
You sigh, curling further into yourself, like that’ll make the story any less painful. Your lips tighten together, eyes falling to the floor. You don’t even know where to start. Do you tell him about meeting Mandy in middle school? How the two of you became an extension of eachother, two souls intertwined into one?
Or do you tell him about how you met Luke your freshman year of college? How he was the first boy to really sweep you off your feet and show you what it felt like to really love someone?
Or do you start at that day last year when you walked in on them going at it like rabbits in your bed?
All options were equally as painful.
You grip the fabric of your dress uncomfortably, like maybe it'll ground you. “Mandy was my best friend,” You start, eyes glazing over just like they always do when you say this story aloud. “Luke was my boyfriend. One day I came home and…yeah. And now they’re getting married and I'm…still alone.” You mean to say it like a joke, like your loneliness doesn't actually bother you, but your voice cracks and sounds way too small to be convincing.
Blondie just listens. Doesn’t push, doesn’t ask any questions. Just a stable presence listening to you without suffocating you.
Your hands shake slightly, eyes beginning to blur with unshed tears that you force back. Your throat gets that awful aching feeling it always does when you’re about to cry. You suck in a sharp breath in an attempt to get your feelings in check, and if Blondie notices, he doesn’t say anything about it.
Instead, his gaze flicks up to the sky. There aren’t many stars out, mostly because you're still relatively close to the city and normally Taco Bell’s don't have the northern lights above them, but he still studies it like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
The silence stretches languidly, a tension in the air that you can’t help but feel like you caused. You probably made him uncomfortable, and he was deciding the best way to tell you he’s leaving you here and to find your own way home. Which is fine, but you should probably go ahead and call Sunoo and ask him to pick you up.
You’re reaching for your phone when he responds. His tone is the softest you’d heard it all night, hair blowing slightly across his forehead when the breeze picks up. “You’re here with me, right?” He murmurs, eyes anywhere but you.
You watch the side of his face, trying to decide what kind of point he’s hoping to make. Yeah, you’re here with him, but you didn’t mean alone in such a direct way. More in a I-lost-my-bestfriend-and-boyfriend-and-can’t-get-over-it kind of way. Still, you go along with him. “I guess,” You hum, sniffling softly. The tears forming in your eyes have finally begun to subside.
He smiles softly, letting his gaze meet yours. His eyes are warm, staring into your own like melted pools of honey. “Then you’re not alone.” He murmurs, knocking your shoulder with his. He's got this proud look in his eyes--like he just gave some big speech on accepting your life and whatnot.
You laugh, shaking your head. You sit up straighter, letting your hands replace your elbows on your knees. “Is that your way of comforting me?” You ask.
He just shrugs, gesturing to you softly. “You’re not crying anymore, are you?”
Your lips part, because, no, you aren’t crying anymore. In fact, the tight feeling in your chest has been replaced by something lighter. Something more warm and less all-consuming.
You lean back on your hands, letting your gaze fall up to the sky. “No,” You mumble, “I guess I’m not.”
The air shifts after that, tension slipping into something softer. Something comfortable. Something that nearly makes you forget you just met him and haven’t known him for years.
You crumble your wrapper (it'd been sitting discarded next to you and nearly flew away multiple times), into a ball and stuff it into the paper bag. With it out of the way, you allow yourself to scoot closer to him. Not close enough that you’re touching, but close enough that you can feel the heat emitting from his body. Can feel his gaze on you as you shift, eyes filled with curiosity and something else you can’t quite name.
“How’s it fair that I keep telling you about myself while you get to keep all your secrets?” You ask, eyebrows knit together. You aren’t angry about it, not anymore at least. Now it’s just confusing. Like he’s hiding things from you for a reason and not just because he managed to sneak into a wedding.
He’s silent, like he’s thinking about what his next play should be. You’ve noticed he does that a lot. Plans what he's going to say before he does, like he’s trying to decide what’s acceptable and what’s not.
“I like Toy Story,” He mumbles, turning lazily towards you. “Does that help?"
You pretend to think it over for a moment, leaning your chin into your palm. “Depends,” You shrug, dragging the word out. “Which movies your favorite?”
He doesn’t even blink when he responds. “The third one, of course," He scoffs, like he's offended you even asked. "That plot twist with Latso’s insane. And the monkey scene? Terrifying.”
You shrug, lips twisting thoughtfully. “True, but the scene of Jessie being thrown out in the second movie is the most iconic moment in all of the films. That song never fails to make me cry.”
He has a physical reaction at the mention of the scene, squeezing his eyes shut and grasping at his heart like he’s in pain. “Don’t mention that song around me again or I swear I’ll throw up.”
You laugh, throwing your head back and pushing his shoulder. He grins at the contact, teeth flashing and upper lip curling slightly.
“Okay, but can we both agree the ending of the fourth one was awful?” You scoff, hands gesturing wildly, “In what world would Woody leave behind his friends and his kid?”
He nods wildly in agreement, snapping his fingers like you've just said something Nobel Peace Prize worthy. “Oh, absolutely. I just pretend that movie doesn’t exist. I can’t watch them ruin Woody’s character like that.”
You kiss your teeth, definitely too worked up over a kids movie, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when the man next to you starts to go into a deep dive into Latso’s character and how he was just a really misunderstood bear with abandonment issues.
You listen intently, genuinely interested. You’ve never met someone with such strong opinions on an animated bear, but he manages to make it sound so intellectual you almost forget you’re talking about Toy Story.
“You’re really passionate about this, huh?” You tease. He flushes like you’ve just reached out and kissed him, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.
“Is that a bad thing?” He questions softly.
You shake your head, “No,” You draw out, tone low in that playful kind of way. “Just not what I expected.”
He hums, letting his gaze wander over your face and across the space behind you. He tucks his knees closer to his chest, tie hanging helplessly against his neck. “I’m full of surprises.” He says, clearly trying to be cheeky, but his tone is too soft to properly convey it.
You don’t respond, instead copying him and tucking in your knees. Your ankles rest against the curve, arms hugging your legs closer to your body.
The silence fills the space comfortably. You don’t feel any reason to fill it with mindless conversation, not like you normally would. Instead, for the first time in a long time, you feel like you can just be. No expectations, no nothing. Just two people existing in the same space.
“Shit,” He huffs under his breath suddenly. You turn to look at him staring down at his phone, eyebrows furrowed in frustration and thumbs moving frantically over his phone.
You raise a brow, “Something wrong?”
He swallows, taking in a breath and letting his phone fall to his lap. He shoots you a sheepish smile, “Something came up at work,” He tells you bashfully, slapping his hands on his knees as he stands. You follow, the hem of your dress blowing in the wind.
He nods towards his car, “Let me take you home?” He asks, holding out a hand for you.
You glance down at it and resist the urge to tell him that you don’t exactly have many other options right now—not unless you feel like dealing with Sunoo’s attitude for waking him up or paying a ridiculous amount of money for an uber. (Both of which you really don’t feel like doing). But the gesture in itself is sweet as long as you don’t think too hard about giving your address to a man who won’t even tell you his name.
So, after zero to no contemplation, you take his hand and allow him to lead you back to his car. He does the whole gentleman act again, opening your door and all that. Sweet, really.
By the time you tell him your address and he pulls out of the parking lot your eyes are heavy with sleep. Ariana Grande plays gently through the speakers, her voice unfortunately lulling you to sleep. He doesn’t say anything when your head slowly tilts towards the window, nor when your eyes start to drift closed. He just glances at you knowingly, fingers gripping the wheel tightly, overly aware of the road in front of him. He’d always been a bit of a reckless driver, speeding on empty country roads, forgetting to turn on his signal when he changed lanes. But tonight he drives careful. Smooth. Like he's moving something precious.
You don’t even register the car stopping. It’s not until he shakes your shoulder lightly do you stir, your head shooting up and a hand coming to wipe down your face. “I’m up, I’m up,” You mumble, voice slightly coarse.
He grins, one hand resting on the wheel and the other tapping against the center console. “Nice place,” He says, jutting his chin towards the window.
You shrug, too tired to care if he’s teasing or if he means it genuinely. Not like you’d ever be seeing him again anyway. You hum, stretching out your arms.
You look over to him, giving him one last look over, memorizing the small bump on his nose and the prominent curve of his cupid's bow.
This guy, whoever he is, is by far one of the most interesting people you’ve ever met in your life. Maybe that’s why you let him kiss you--why you let him take you for shitty fast food despite the risks. Your chest feels hollow at the thought of leaving him—especially because you know the chances of ever seeing him again are slim to none. You can’t even look him up online either, which really sucks and is going to piss Sunoo off when you tell him about all this.
He raises a brow, leaning back in his seat as he watches you. “What is it?” He asks, a small, embarrassed laugh escaping him.
You part your lips to answer, but nothing comes out. How do you say, Oh, you kind of changed my life so now I'm trying to memorize your face so that when I'm old I can tell my kids about the man that should’ve been their father—without sounding like a total creep?
The answer is simple: You can't.
So, instead you just shake your head, letting your gaze fall to the door. “Nothing.”
He doesn’t say anything, just watches as you pull the handle and slip out of the car. The air is chillier now, sending goosebumps up your arms, but you don’t rush inside. Instead, you let your gaze fall back onto him, lingering there like you're hoping for him to do something.
He blinks, shooting you a small smile. One that says more than he’s willing to say out loud. “I’ll see you around?”
You hum, disspointment curling in your chest even though you know it shouldn't. “Yeah,” You murmur, “I’ll see you around, Woody.”
And then you're closing the door and walking away, not even glancing back at him once. It’s not until you're inside and he’s been sitting outside long enough for it to be considered creepy does he realize what you called him.
Woody. Like fucking Toy Story.
And for some reason, he really hopes he’ll be able to hear you say it again.
“Okay, wait, let me get this straight,” Sunoo snorts, head hanging off of the edge of your bed. You can see him watching you through your vanity mirror. “You met some rando guy at the wedding from hell, let him kiss you, take you to eat, and drive you home–all without knowing his name?”
You roll your eyes, smacking your lips together as you apply your last bit of lipgloss. You had an interview for a promotion at work today, one that you’ve been both dreading and unreasonably excited for.
“Yes, that is what I said.” You grumble. It’s only been two days since your encounter with Woody, a fitting nickname in your opinion given his expert analysis on Toy Story, but you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.
Which shouldn't be all that surprising, considering everything that happened, but it was a serious inconvenience for you at the moment. You had more important things to worry about that didn't include a beautiful blonde man with a sweet smile.
Sunoo rolls onto his tummy, shooting you a glare. “Well, excuse me for trying to wrap my head around all of…that.”
You don't even blink. “You’re excused.”
He rolls his eyes, pushing himself up onto his knees and then maneuvering his position so he’s sitting criss-crossed on your bed. You fluff up your hair again, turning your head from side to side and assessing your makeup. It’s casual, something that says I-tried-but-not-too-hard. Something you've deemed safe for an interview.
“I’m just saying,” Sunoo continues, beginning to scroll mindlessly on his phone, “It’s just not like you. I mean, it took you months before you even let Luke hold your hand.”
You sigh, whipping around and grabbing your computer from your desk. You shove it into your bag roughly, wincing when it catches on a stray paper and rips it slightly. “I know that,” You huff, annoyed and slightly overstimulated, “It’s-I don't know- it just happened!”
Sunoo’s nose scrunches slightly. You can tell he wants to argue, but he’s been your friend since your freshman year of college, so he knows when to push back and when not to. You're grateful for his kind of sixth sense, because if he would’ve said anything else you're not sure your friendship would survive the aftermath.
The office is busy, just like it always is, but today it makes you anxious. Someone walks too closely behind you, making you self-conscious about your pace. Should you speed up? If you did, would it be obvious that you did because of them?
Sunoo walks calmly beside you, Iced Coffee in one hand and phone in the other. He smiles at some reel on his screen, nudging your shoulder to show you. You barely glance at it, letting out a short hum of acknowledgment and going back to gnawing anxiously on your lower lip.
It’s not like you’re super worried. You’ve been working here for five years, head journalist in the sports department for two. The promotion should go to you–but just because it should doesn’t mean it will.
Your stomach knots up again.
By the time you reach the elevators you’re so pale you could be Dracula’s daughter. Sweat collects on your hands, and, wow is it getting hot in here?
“Sunoo,” You manage to grit out, eyes wide with panic. “I think I’m dying.”
He looks up from his phone then, and when his eyes land on you his expression immediately turns serious.
“Y/N,” He says, not harsh—just to the point. “You are not going to die because of an interview. You are going to go answer some bullshit questions about things you know you excel at, and then we’re going to celebrate at that coffee shop off of 5th Street, okay?”
You nod shakily, breathing still a little uneven. “Okay, okay, okay,” You mumble. “I got this.”
He nods, placing a hand on your arm, “You got this.”
God, you really hope you do.
The interview is over as quickly as it started. You were shaking the whole time admittedly, giving practiced answers and praying your voice doesn’t crack. (It did—but only once. So kind of a win but also not?)
Sunoo, as promised, takes you to coffee after. The cafe’s barely a block away from your work, and you hate to admit that you’ve definitely spent more money here the necessary.
The scent of coffee beans and steamed milk hits your nose when you push the door open. Most people are still at work or school, so it’s relatively empty aside from a few stragglers.
“We’ll sit over there,” Sunoo says, lazily pointing towards a table by the back. It’s the same one you always sit at—one you’d joked had been specifically made for late night work sessions and early morning complaints.
You take your seats across from each other, your legs crossed and his outstretched until they nearly touch your feet.
“So,” He says, drawing out the world playfully. “How do you feel?”
You shrug, bottom lip finding it's place in between your teeth once more. You answered everything how you think they wanted you to, but was that enough? What if they wanted you to go beyond and give answers that were more intellectual than what you did? What if they gave it to that guy who spent 30 minutes perfecting the amount of sugar in his coffee instead of you?
You sigh, shoulders drooping slightly. “I don’t know. Good, I guess? But… also not.”
He raises a brow, arms crossing over his chest as he leans back in his chair. “What's that mean?”
“I’m just anxious, I think. Like, I know I probably did good, but there’s that little part of me that feels like I didn’t.”
Sunoo hums, a puff of air escaping him as he does. “You need to stop being so hard on yourself,” He mutters, eyes locking onto yours. “You and I both know no one in that office deserves it more than you do.”
“I know.”
He fixes you with a look, chin tilting slightly. “Do you?”
You don’t respond to that. Not because you don’t want to, but because you can’t. You’ve always had a knack for overthinking things, even when there was no reason to. That’s why your actions with Woody had been so surprising. Any other time you would’ve burst into flames at the mere thought of letting him kiss you like that, but for some reason you had–and you hadn’t even thought twice about it.
Your leg shakes uncomfortably, toes bouncing against the marble floor. Sunoo seems to sense your discomfort, and despite not wanting to, easily switches the topic.
“Anyway. Let’s talk about something other than your inability to give yourself credit–” He says cheekily, ignoring the glare you shoot at him, “What’re you wearing to Jay's wedding next month?”
You groan, throwing your head back before whipping it right back. “I completely forgot about that!” You cry. With the stress of your interview and whatever had happened last week with Woody your mutual friend’s wedding had completely slipped your mind.
Jay was one of the only friends who had chosen your side after everything blew up with Luke. He, along with Sunoo and one of your other friends Lizzie (Who Jay was now engaged to), had spent months making sure anyone who asked knew exactly what had really happened. They took any chance they could to drag Luke and Mandy through the mud, which you were secretly thankful for. Of course you told them to stop simply because it was the right thing to do, but inside you were cheering them on. Not that you’d ever tell them that.
“Wow,” Sunoo laughs, reaching a hand up to cover his mouth. “You really have been distracted then.”
You resist the urge to bury your head in your hands. “What am I even supposed to wear? I know Lizzie said she has a specific aesthetic in mind but I doubt I own anything with the exact same shade of pink as her fucking baby blanket.”
Sunoo shrugs, head tilting slightly. “Don’t think so hard about it.” He says, “I’m sure they’ll have something at the mall.”
Your nose scrunches, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge. “Whatever,” You huff, “I’ll probably just borrow something from someone.”
The conversation continues like normal after that, just like two friends having a casual meet together. But admittedly, your mind keeps drifting elsewhere–to a certain nameless blonde with honey brown eyes.
Maybe–just maybe–he’ll be at Jay and Lizzie’s wedding. And even though you know you shouldn’t, you secretly hope he is.
Jay and Lizzie’s wedding is much more comfortable for you than the last one had been. The reception was beautiful--filled with baby pink accents and subtle peonies. Notably, it didn’t make you want to claw your eyes out--and you’re actually able to converse with people instead of sitting in the back like some antisocial outcast.
You laugh at something Sunoo says, head tilting back and wine splashing out of your glass. Lizzie and Jay are somewhere on the dance floor, looking at each other like how people do when they’ve met their person. It’s sweet, really. There isn’t anybody who deserves their happy ending more than them.
You lean into Sunoo, raising your voice as you stumble slightly on your feet. You weren't exactly tipsy, just bordering between the laand of clear minded and not. “I’m gonna go get another drink,” You tell him.
He nods, waving you off and continuing his conversation with an old friend from College–Soobin. You liked Soobin. He was funny and pretty in that boy-next-door kind of way, but he's always felt too elusive for you. The kind of man who seeped through your fingers like sand.
You weave through the countless bodies, mumbling apologies when you bump someone's shoulder. The open bar is located near the back corner, lined with multiple men trying to flirt with uninterested women. The sights more amusing than anything, really.
You squeeze through a couple, ignoring the man's glare and shooting the girl a subtle wink. She whispers a quiet thank you, grabbing her fruity cocktail and making her escape back to her friends.
It takes a moment for the bartender to notice you, but he shoots you a practiced grin when he does, notepad already in hand. “And what can I get for you, pretty lady?”
You laugh louder than intended, face flushing with heat. “A Strawberry Daquiri, maybe? Something light.”
He laughs, and you can tell it’s meant to be smooth, but it comes off wrong. Doesn’t make warmth bloom in your chest, doesn’t make you want to hear it again and again. Just lands far, far away from you.
“Usually something like that takes me awhile" He says slowly, leaning over the counter slightly. "But for you? I'll be faster then lightning." He winks once, then swirls around on his foot and attends to the man across the bar. You watch him go, chin resting in your hand, debating if you felt flattered or not.
“A Strawberry Daquiri? Really?”
It takes a moment for you to even register someone’s talking to you, and even longer for you to register who it is. You blink, whipping your head to the side. Woody’s standing there staring at the menu, strands of blonde hair falling over his forehead. He looks the same as he did the night you met him–loose tie, cheeky smile. The very same man you’d been thinking about before bed every night.
You stand up straighter, resting an arm against the counter and facing your body towards him. “What are you doing here?” You mean for it to come off serious and demanding, but your underlying relief slips through like waves in an open current.
He looks towards you lazily, like you were the weird one for asking. “Could ask you the same thing.”
You squint your eyes at him, “The bride and groom are my friends.”
He just grins, eyes shining at you in that way that you know means trouble. “Maybe I know them too.”
“You don’t.”
He shoots back quickly. “How are you so sure?”
Your lips part, but nothing comes out. Something about him is so infuriating it literally puts your brain on pause. You huff, rolling your eyes slightly. “You’re annoying.”
He lets out a low hum, resting his hip on the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “And yet you’re still talking to me.”
You want to deny him-- say it was because you were waiting for your drink and he was there, but you know that’s a weak lie. You know it’s because you’d been secretly hoping he’d show up, and now that he had, leaving his side was the last thing on your mind.
You don’t respond, instead just shrugging and turning away from him. You focus your eyes to the front, watching as the bartender moves swiftly between taking orders and making drinks. You feel Woody take a step closer to you, the scent of his cologne making your senses go blind. He smells like cedar and linen, subtle enough to go unnoticed by anyone not paying close attention. But that’s exactly the problem–you can’t stop paying attention to him.
The bartender returns with your drink, shooting you a wink when he hands it over, one you barely notice. Instead, you're trying to ignore the way Woody’s mere presence makes your nerves light on fire and goosebumps rise against your skin.
“He was flirting with you.” He smirks, nudging your shoulder with his own.
You roll your eyes, stirring your drink with your straw before taking a slow sip. “He definitely wasn’t.”
You push off the counter and begin to walk away, trying to seem nonchalant despite the fire growing beneath your skin. Woody follows you seamlessly, lips curled in a toothy grin, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “He winked at you.”
You turn to him over your shoulder, raising a brow. “So?”
He doesn’t reply to that, just keeps following you closely like he’s afraid of losing you in the crowd.
“Where are you sitting?” You ask, gesturing lamely towards the array of tables. He nods towards one in the back, clearly meant for decoration and not guests. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying to hide the way your lips quirk up in a near smile. “Seriously?”
He shakes his head in mock confusion, shoving his hands in his pockets. “What?” He asks, completely serious. “It’s nice and secluded. Away from any prying eyes, if you know what I mean.”
You can’t help but laugh at his ridiculousness, shoulders shaking slightly as you do. “You’re seriously ridiculous.” You mumble, taking his hand and dragging him back towards your own table near the front. He doesn’t argue, but his eyes go wide and the tips of his ears flush a dangerous shade of pink.
Sunoo notices you approaching first, his lips parted over his glass and his eyebrows raised. Soobin is too consumed with something on his phone to even register what's happening around him.
“Guys,” You announce, dropping Woody’s hand and instead using it to present him like your modeling your cat for a cat show. “This is…um…”
You remember then that you don't know his name. The same man that you'd been thinking about every day was the same man who'd rather kiss you then properly introduce himself to you.
“Woody.” He finishes for you, locking his gaze onto yours. “That’s what all my friends call me, at least.”
You blink, nodding softly. “Yeah,” You force yourself not to get lost in his eyes. Try to remind yourself that even though he's looking at you like that--it doesn't mean anything. “Woody.”
“Like Toy Story?” Soobin asks, finally looking away from his phone.
You just ignore him, instead pulling out the chair next to you for him to sit at. He does so easily, slipping into it like he belongs there.
Sunoo gives you a look, one that subtly says, who the fuck is this and why have I never seen him before?
You return it with a look of your own. I’ll tell you later.
The tables tense at first, Soobin and Sunoo clearly trying to adjust to the new setting, but any tension is easily dispelled by Soobin. “But, seriously, did your parents name you after Toy Story?”
Woody laughs, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he does. “Uh, I guess so.” He shrugs, glancing towards you. “They have a pretty weird sense of humor.”
Soobin just hums his agreement, mumbling something about wishing his own parents named him after a disney character.
“So, how do you two know each other?" Sunoo asks, taking a casual sip of his wine. You have to admit, he’s good at getting what he wants without making it seem like that’s what he’s doing. He’s got the whole innocent, curious bystander act down to a T. But you know he’s just nosy and doesn’t know how to mind his own business.
“Uh,” Woody clears his throat, “Work?”
“Righttt,” Sunoo drawls, clearly not believing the lie. “And what exactly is it that you do Woody?”
You swallow uncomfortably, “He’s the…janitor.”
Woody coughs, kicking your shin lightly under the table. “The head janitor,” You continue, “Just got a promotion recently.”
Sunoo nods, still eyeing you both suspiciously, but either he’s too drunk to question you further or he just stopped caring. Either way, you’re thankful.
Conversation flows smoothly after that. The four of you (Well, everybody except Woody, who kept any personal questions as vague as possible), share stories from college and highschool, laughing until your cheeks hurt and the hours blend together like smudges of paint on an old pallet. Speeches are given, drinks are shared, and the music shifts from classy to downright dirty.
There’s a few stragglers on the dance floor, mostly drunk old ladies and their husbands–slow dancing to songs that didn’t call for it. You’re sitting in comfortable silence, pretending to keep up with whatever it is Sunoo and Soobin are deep in conversation about. Something about which disney princess had it the hardest. You think the obvious answer is Belle, but you’d rather not get chewed alive for even thinking about sharing your irrelevant opinion.
Woody sits beside you quietly, eyes glancing at you every so often like he wants to say something. You want to ask him what it is, but your eyes keep drooping slightly and the thought of talking makes your head hurt. Drinking always makes you tired, so you aren’t sure why you keep doing it–especially at public events.
Ariana Grande’s Love Me Harder begins to trickle through the speakers, the beginning notes familiar in your ears. Woody practically shoots up at the sound of it, lips parted slightly, staring you down like you’ll move if he looks at you hard enough.
You peak over at him, lips pursued slightly. “What?” You mumble.
He points to the ceiling, knee bouncing in excitement. “The song.” He states.
You stretch out your arms in front of you, confusion written all over your face. “What about it?”
He doesn’t say anything else, instead just grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the dance floor before you can even think about protesting.
Your eyes are wide when you get there, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. “What are you doing?” You ask in disbelief. Your body is stiff, glancing around at the people next to you. There's a young girl in her twenties singing along to the song with her friend, the both clearly drunk. And on the other side is a man way too old to still be seeking dates at weddings, but he does so anyway, eyes glued to every woman that walks past him.
Woody shrugs, beginning to nod his head to the beat. “Dancing.”
You snort, a hand coming up to cover your mouth when he starts moving the rest of his body. He’s a good dancer, but you feel awkward standing here watching him like this. He lips the song dramatically, holding an invisible microphone in front of him.
“Oh my God,” You mumble, “You’re so weird.”
He just shrugs, clearly unbothered. “It’s fun,” He says matter-of-factly. “Try it.”
You immediately shake your head, looking towards Sunoo for rescue, but he’s too busy arguing with Soobin to notice your dire calls for help.
When it becomes clear that you'll have to get out of this yourself, you take a deep breath and try to explain without sounding like a total weirdo. “I...can’t,” You state uncomfortably, taking a step back to build much needed space between you. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
Woody doesn’t even flinch when you say that. Instead, he grabs your hand and pulls you closer again. You stumble forward, chest touching his, but he stabilizes you with a hand at your waist. “So?” He says softly, eyes shining. “It’s just me and you.”
He’s right. No one’s paying attention to the two of you, too focused on themselves and what they're doing. But it still doesn’t do much to curve the nerves growing deep in your chest.
You shake your head, “I don’t know–”
He doesn’t let you finish, instead using his free hand to poke your forehead gently. “Stop thinking so much,” He says, beginning to sway around gently, “And just feel the music.”
Your breath catches in your throat, heat crawling up your neck. His words shouldn’t make you feel like this, but for reasons you’d rather push down and ignore forever, they do. And so, you listen.
Your movements are stiff at first, arms mechanical like you’re thinking about everything before you do it. Woody watches with a grin, his tie swaying back and forth with every swing of his hips. You’re surprised it hasn’t given up completely and crumbled onto the floor.
His hands find your waist again, guiding your movements until they're smoother, less like a robot and more like you’re gliding through butter. “There you go,” He chuckles, voice coming out a little breathless.
Your lips quirk up faintly as you get the hang of it, your nerves dissolving until you feel like you’re floating. Woody watches you shamelessly, continuing to mouth the words. He gets on his knees dramatically when the ending chorus comes on, singing into his invisible microphone during The Weeknds lines. When Ariana’s turn comes on again he tilts it towards you with a grin.
You laugh, singing her part and then pulling him back onto his feet. He pretends to stumble dramatically, grabbing onto his shoulder like you’ve hurt him. You just roll your eyes and keep dancing.
You continue like that well into the night. People walk by, shooting you sideways glances, all of which you hardly notice. For the second time, this nameless man has managed to coax you out of your shell, and all without even trying.
Soon enough, the couple does their sendoff, leaving you and all the others outside. Sunoo’s busy getting the uber while you sit on the curb, a hint of a smile on your face that you can’t quite wipe away.
You don’t turn when someone sits besides you, already too aware of who it is.
“So,” He breathes out, whistling low. “Tonight was fun.”
“Yeah,” You agree softly, hugging your knees to your chest. “It was.”
Theres a pause, and then, “You’re a horrible dancer, by the way.”
You elbow him so hard he nearly topples over.
“I'm kidding, I’m kidding! Truce!” He laughs, throwing his hands up in surrender.
You glare at him, though there isn’t any resentment behind it. “You’re an asshole.”
He blinks, expression going soft. “An asshole you’d like to give your phone number to?”
That stuns you. Your head shoots up, gaze locking onto his. He looks almost sheepish, eyebrows knit together and hands tapping against his lap.
You chew on the inside of your cheek, giving him a once-over. “I still don’t even know your name.”
He nods, like he’d been expecting rejection. “I know,” He murmurs, “I just…I want it to keep being like this for a while, yeah? Just me and you.”
Just me and you. He says it like it's a fact of nature. Like the two of you would be together well into the future. It's a thought that makes your throat constrict, though you don't know why.
You turn your gaze towards the road. “I don’t see how your name is going to change that.”
He shrugs, copying your actions and staring off into the dark. “Maybe it won’t,” He swallows, adams apple bobbing. “Or maybe it will.”
You cross your arms onto your knees and lean down on them, successfully hiding your face. You should say no. Should stand up, remember what it means to have self-respect, and walk away from him for good. What use is there in getting involved with a man you don’t even really know?
But then your eyes find the side of his face, eyes trailing down until you can see the rise and fall of his chest. In truth, he looks straight out of some cheesy romance novel you’ll read once and then compare every real-life romantic encounter to.
But it isn’t just his looks. It’s him. The way he gets you to open up so easily, pulling you out of your comfort zone without even blinking.
Meeting once was a coincidence. But twice? Maybe…there was something pulling you towards each other that you couldn’t quite see. Something that wants you to memorize all his outlines even if it’ll inevitably end with your undoing.
You sigh, opening your phone and nonchalantly handing your phone to him.
He glances at it, eyes dragging towards you. There’s a sly grin on his face when he takes your phone from you, fingers brushing yours as he does.
“Knew you’d give in.” He teases, typing his contact information.
You scoff, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Don’t get a big head about it.”
“Too late.”
Sunoo approaches then, shoulders curled in on himself, clearly exhausted. “Are you done flirting yet? The Uber’s about to be here and if I don’t get in my bed ASAP someone is going to die.”
You flush, eyes going wide as you shoot him a warning look. “Sunoo.” You hiss.
Woody chuckles, waving you off. “Go ahead,” He nods, “Just text me when you get home, okay?”
“Uh,” You blink, standing and letting Sunoo drag you away. “Yeah, okay. Sure. I can do that.”
Sunoo complains in your ear, something about Soobin ticking him off, but you’re not listening. Instead your head is turned, watching Woody get smaller and smaller the further you get.
You don’t hear from Woody for two weeks. A fact you are painfully aware of, even though you’re trying very hard to seem like you’re not. Sunoo has commented on your apparent inability to sit still, constantly checking your phone like it holds the secret to life. You lie through your teeth every time he points it out, claiming that you’re just anxious to get the results for the promotion.
And while that is true, it’s not why your shoulders sag every time you're met with a notification from your mom instead of the person you actually want to hear from.
It’s not like you care. (You do). He clearly has better things to do than text you, and that’s okay! (You’re seriously starting to lose your mind).
Maybe it would be better if you had some kind of idea of what his day-to-day life looked like, but you don’t. And every time you remember that it’s a painful reminder that the man running circles in your mind is someone you don't actually know, no matter how much you try to act like you do.
You’ve tried to piece him together in your mind more times than you can count. Imagining him behind a desk, making deals over the phone. Or maybe he did something humbler, like volunteering for nonprofits or working at animal shelters. Anything was possible really.
It feels like you’ve begun to make up an entire life for him, one you know isn’t real yet brings a smile to your face every time you imagine him doing whatever task it is you’ve conjured up. Would he be more into movies or books? Did he like his coffee hot or cold? Why was he so obsessed with Ariana Grande?
You sigh, sinking deeper into your pillows. Your phone lays abandoned at your side, screen dimming until it eventually goes dark. Scrolling doesn’t even bring you comfort anymore, which is pretty inconvenient for you considering your mind seems to go a mile a minute without it.
You’d texted him like promised when you got home after Jay and Lizzie’s wedding, telling him that you’d made it home and had had a good time. (You wanted to say had a good time with him–but decided that was probably too forward and quickly deleted it.)
He’d responded immediately something about being glad you made it home and that he hoped to see you again soon.
And then that was that.
No more texts. No more encounters. Just the lingering memory of a man with no name who managed to seep into the cracks of your heart like sticky syrup.
It happens a couple days later. Your phone dings, but you’re so engrossed in writing another article on olympic figure skater Park Sunghoon to really register it.
It’s not until it dings again do you spare it a glance, and there sitting casually against the screen like he hasn’t consumed your life is Woody. Or, more specifically, his text bubble.
You scramble to grab it, ignoring how your computer slides off your lap and instead ripping your phone from the charger. Is it pathetic? Maybe.
Woody: Hey
Woody: Are you busy Saturday?
Your breath catches slightly, bottom lip finding purchase in between your teeth. He’s asking you a very normal, simple question. The kind of thing people ask their friends all the time. So why does it feel so different coming from him?
It takes you longer then you’d like to admit for you to respond. Everything you come up either feels too rehearsed or too casual. Should you use punctuation? He had in his second text but not the first, so that doesn’t exactly give you much to work with.
You eventually settle on something safe.
Y/N: Hi
Y/N: I’m not really sure yet. Why?
It’s a lie. In truth, your only plans on Saturday are sitting on your couch rewatching New Girl. But you don’t want him to know how much of a loser you actually are. Plus, if he can have secrets, you think it’s only fair you do too.
Woody: There’s a wedding this weekend. Friend told me about it…thought you might want to come.
Woody: Only if you’re available, of course. I’m sure you’re veryyy busy.
You scoff, lips curving into a smile. Of course he sees right through you–somehow able to read you even without seeing you.
That’s how you end up in a dress you’d gotten from Goodwill the night before, pacing in your living room while you wait for Woody to pick you up. You’d told him you’d meet him there, but he’d insisted he come get you instead. When you asked why he’d simply said: Pretty ladies shouldn’t be expected to lift a finger when invited somewhere.
And, yeah. You had squealed into your pillow like a middle school girl when he said that. But–whatever. That’s besides the point.
The point is that you’re about to go wedding crashing with a man who you feel like you know everything about when you really know nothing! Put that on a dating podcast.
You freeze when the doorbell rings, eyes going wide and pulse jumping in your ears. You force yourself to take several deep breaths, smoothing down the ends of your hair and doing your best to look casual and not like you were mid panicking.
You creak the door open slowly, and the sight that greets you is one that makes you pause. Woody’s there, same loose tie, same coy smile–but he’s holding flowers. A giant bouquet filled with a rainbow of different colored plants.
He looks almost shy, holding it out to you like he’s scared you’ll reject them. “I didn’t know which ones were your favorites,” He huffs out a laugh through his nose, “So I just got as many as possible.”
“That’s…” You clear your throat, trying to seem unaffected, when in reality your heart is spasming. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
He shrugs, trying to seem casual, but you can see the pink in his cheeks. “Wasn’t any problem.”
“Still,” You insist, taking the bouquet from him and setting it on your kitchen island. You open your cabinet and pull out a pink vase. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He swallows, watching as you carefully fill the vase with water and then peel the flowers out of their packaging. You do it gently, careful not to bump any of the petals and accidently damage them.
He lets out a shaky breath, like the site of you being so domestic is too much to handle. By the time you look up his gaze is focused behind you, eyes squinted like he’s hyperfocused on anything that doesn’t have to do with you.
Your eyes catch on his tie, noticing the way it dangles low on his chest, clearly strung together in a hurry. You’re used to it by now, but your body moves before your mind can catch up, and then your hands are on him, nifty fingers redoing the knot.
He watches you the whole time, chin tilted slightly and eyes filled with softness and something else. You’re careful not to focus on the fact that you can feel his breath against your nose, or the way his scent overtakes your senses until you can’t think about anything except for him, or the way he’s watching you so intently.
Your fingers loop the tie until it forms into a proper knot, tugging it up his chest until it rests just below his neck. His throat bobs when he swallows, and you faintly feel it against your knuckles.
The air in the room suddenly feels heavy, like a weighted blanket against your chest. You glance up at him, finally allowing yourself to meet his eyes. And, God, how you wish you hadn’t.
It’s one thing to feel his gaze. To know you’re being watched. But seeing it? That's an entirely different thing.
Your breath catches, lips parting just slightly. All you would have to do is push forward the tiniest bit and your lips would meet his. You watch his gaze fall to your lips and linger there for a moment before he forces them back up.
There’s a moment where you’re sure gravity ceases to exist. All that’s left is the undeniable pull between you, the space feeling like water in your lungs and the only relief would be to close it.
“[Y/N],” He mumbles, voice shaking and breathless. He sounds…almost needy. Like this is something he’s thought about a thousand times before and he can’t believe he’s finally living it.
Your own voice isn’t much better when you respond with a quiet, “Mhm?”
“I should tell you–”
You jump when his phone begins to ring in his pocket, cracking through the moment like a bolt of lightning. You pull away from him swiftly, eyes wide and chest nearly heaving. Your entire body burns, from the tips of your ears to the soles of your feet.
He curses as he reaches for it, eyes glancing over the screen wearily before he silences it and shoves it back in his pocket.
You do your best to steady your breathing, clearing your throat and smoothing down your dress. “Who was that?” You ask.
His lips curl downwards, eyes flashing with annoyance. "Doesn't matter,” He sighs, extending a hand to you. “You ready to go?”
And because you have limited self-control around him and an inability to say no, you accept it and follow him to his car.
The wedding is big. Like, the kind of wedding that you come to and realize, wow, these people really are in a different tax-bracket than I am. There’s at least a hundred tables, all arranged around a large swan ice sculpture. The walls are covered in glass, showing off the expansive lake outside and the white wooden gazebo. It almost feels like something out of a movie.
You swallow uncomfortably, mouth going dry. You knew what you were signing up for when you’d agreed to come with him, but now that it’s actually happening you’re having some regrets. What if somebody realizes you don’t fit in? Your dress is from Goodwill for God's sake! Meanwhile every other woman here is dressed head to toe in name brands that you’ve never even heard of.
“Uh,” You manage, glancing wearily around the room. You swear you can feel people looking at you. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”
He has the audacity to chuckle, head tilting back slightly. You shoot him a pointed glare, arms crossing over your chest. “I’m serious!” You hiss.
“I know you are,” He responds, voice smooth and light. “And that’s exactly why we’re staying.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to make sense of his logic. “That doesn’t even make any sense!”
He shrugs, turning on his heel and making his way to the open bar, leaving you behind. You stand frozen for a moment, still trying to process why the hell you’re here and coming to the conclusion that you should probably call an uber and go home.
You follow him anyway.
This bar isn’t nearly as chaotic as the one at Lizzie and Jay's wedding. It’s classier in a way, full of people drinking 80-year-old wine instead of cheap drug store beer. It’s kind of intimidating, and you can feel the way you shrink in on yourself when someone glances at you for too long.
Woody orders your drinks, but you’re not paying attention. Instead you’re picking at your fingers, wincing every time you pull the skin a little too far.
You’d picked up the habit as a kid, a way to curve your evergrowing anxiousness. But after your mom noticed your hands turning into a mini crime scene she’d quickly put a stop to the habit. But, sometimes, when you felt so overwhelmed you were sure you were going to pass out and die, you’d let yourself indulge. Anything to help ground you.
You can feel your head spinning, breaths coming in shallow and eyes welling up with tears. You really shouldn’t be here. This is weird and people definitely know what you’re doing and oh my god you’re going to be sick–
A hand shoots out to grab yours, fingers pulling you back to reality. You look up to see Woody gazing at you with so much concern it’s nearly enough to bring you out of your head completely.
“Hey, hey,” He mumbles, voice hushed. “You’re okay, just breathe.”
You do as he says, sucking in deep breaths in that way your therapist taught you when you were 12. Box breathing he’d called it. You’d thought it was ridiculous until freshman year of high school when you came face to face with your first F and realized why people had to use it.
It takes a couple of moments for you to get full control of your senses again, but when you do you’re suddenly panicking for an entirely different reason. What kind of person gets so deep into their head over where their dress is from they nearly send themselves into a full fledged panic attack? You, apparently.
You slap your hands over your face, lips twisting in discomfort. “I’m sorry,” You start, voice still a bit warbly and slightly muffled, “I just get really into my head sometimes and–”
Woody grabs your wrists with a featherlight touch, thumbs hovering over your pulse points. He pulls them away gently, forcing you to come back into the world and away from the safety your hands brought.
“Why are you apologizing?” He asks.
Your lips part. Then close. Then part again. Then close again. You don’t really know how to answer him because you’ve never been asked that before. Usually you apologize and then things are awkward for the rest of the night. But he doesn't expect that from you. Instead, he was genuinely worried–not just because it was seen as the polite thing to do. He genuinely cares.
And that in itself is enough to pull you back to reality completely.
“Because…” You laugh nervously, “I probably ruined tonight, didn’t I?”
He wets his lips, eyes catching on something past your head. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a crooked grin and wraps one hand more firmly around your wrist, the other falling to his side. “Who said anything about ruining?” He teases, tilting his head towards the entrance. “C’mon.”
He leads you outside, palm warm and heavy in your own. The sun has dipped low below the lake, casting the sky in deep shades of orange and pink. The air has the musky scent it always does when you're near fresh water, but there’s something else too. The faint smell of an approaching rain, one that you hadn’t prepared for.
Woody slows his pace when he reaches the steps to the small gazebo, wooden steps creaking under his weight. He bows dramatically, gesturing towards the open space. “After you.”
You roll your eyes, but there isn’t any mirth in it. More like…endearence? “What are you doing?" You ask, feet glued to the grass.
He looks up at you and straightens his back, “We’re enjoying the wedding? Is this some kind of trick question…?”
You frown, glancing towards the building. You can see people still talking inside, moving around each other like fish in a swirling sea of gold accents. “The weddings in there.” You point out.
He just rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand once more and pulling you up the stairs. “Stop thinking so much just this once, yeah?” He laughs, soft and airy and way too pure. “Just…dance with me.”
You can feel your skin flushing. Can feel the heat crawling up your neck in unwanted waves. You don’t even know how to respond, mouth going dry and lips tightening together.
“There isn’t any music.” You mutter lamely, avoiding his gaze. It’s a bad excuse, you know. But you're not exactly well versed in the art of…whatever this even is.
“That’s okay,” He says, snaking a hand around your waist smoothly. You hardly even register it until you're stumbling forward slightly, catching yourself with two hands against his chest. “We don’t need it.”
You aren’t exactly sure how things play out after that. It’s mostly him leading and you following blindly, but eventually you’re swaying softly together. His hands settle against your waist, holding you gently. Yours end up wrapped around his neck, fingers clasped at his upper back. The fairy lights flicker on once the sky turns from a painted canvas into something darker, highlighting the dips of his face in warm lighting. Somewhere, crickets chirp endlessly, speaking to each other in their native tongue.
In truth, you can’t quite meet his eyes. It’s absolutely embarrassing being a twenty-something-year-old and unable to look a guy in the eyes, but you really just can’t do it. And it’s not because of the fact that you’re slow dancing in a gazebo under an array of hanging lights, but it’s something else you aren’t sure you want to accept. Something that sits deep in your chest, practically begging to claw its way up and out and into the open air.
You push it down as hard as you can.
He cuts through the silence then, voice a hushed whisper, like he’s scared the moment will break if he speaks too loud. “This is better, right?”
You swallow, nodding once. “Yeah,” You breathe out. “Thank you.”
He hums, thumbs beginning to rub featherlight circles into your sides.
The entire thing is entirely too intimate. You should pull away. Should tell him that this is way too much considering he refuses to share the most basic piece of knowledge with you. But you don’t. Instead, against your will, your hands tighten around his neck, cheek resting against the hard plains of his chest.
His heartbeat picks up the slightest bit before smoothing out again. You can feel it beating against your ear, consistent and comforting in a way that nearly makes your eyes droopy.
“What are we doing?” You finally manage to ask him, voice so small you aren’t sure he’s even able to hear it. Rain begins to drop from the sky, pelting softly against the roof of the gazebo.
“Dancing.” He answers easily.
You lift your head then, eyes finding his own under the soft glow. They’re soft and beautiful and gazing at you in a way that should be considered illegal.
Your lips quirk up, but quickly fall back down. “That’s not what I meant.” You mumble.
He blinks, squeezing your waist once. “I know.”
There’s a moment of silence then, but the space between you is enough to cloud your mind with millions of thoughts.
“I’m going to tell you,” He sighs, eyes falling to the floor. He watches the way your weight shifts back and forth on your feet. “Soon. I promise.”
Your eyebrows furrow, fingers running over the baby hairs at the back of his neck. “Why?” You ask, “Why is it so hard to tell me?” You don’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does, but he doesn’t even flinch at your tone. Just takes it without firing back.
“It’s complicated,” He insists, voice low. The rain begins to fall down harder, plopping against the roof and muffling the world around you.
Truthfully, you’re getting kind of sick of his constant refusal. The only explanation you can come up with for it is that he’s either some kind of war criminal or secret service agent. Neither are options you particularly enjoy.
You release him and take a step back. His hands linger at your waist, clearly hesitant to let go, but you shoot him a look and they drop to his sides.
“How is your name complicated?” You question, arms crossing over your chest.
He runs a hand over his face, head shaking softly. “You don’t understand–”
You throw your arms up, eyes widening visibly. “You’re right, I don’t understand!” Your breathings uneven now, a humorless laugh bubbling out of your chest. “You-You kiss me, dance with me, comfort me." Your voice becomes hushed, "Look at me like–like that.”
He takes a step forward, you take another step back. Then again. And again. Until your back is against the fence of the gazebo and you can feel the rain misting over your shoulders and hair. He doesn’t crowd you, but he’s close enough that your breath catches. “Like what?”
You swallow, resisting the urge to look away from him. Everything in you is begging you to run away. To turn around and pretend this never happened.
“Don’t.” You breathe out shakily, hands clenched at your sides. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
He doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he lets your words hang in the air like a dre, the tension palpable. “I did all of those things,” He finally replies, voice tense. “Because I wanted to. Because you deserved it after what they did to you.”
Your eyebrows furrow, confusion written all over your face. “What–?”
“I lied to you.” He interrupts, taking the smallest step back. His hand runs through his hair, forcing the blonde strands back for a second before they fall back into place. “That first night we met. I told you I didn’t know Luke or Mandy. But…it wasn't true.”
You remember exactly what he’s talking about. But…why would he lie? What was the point? Because he wanted to? What does that even mean?
“You’re not making any sense right now.” You mumble, hands coming up to rub at your temples.
He smiles, the same one he’d had that night he met you. But it's bleaker now, filled with more emotion than you know how to handle.
“I know,” He says shakily, “Just hear me out, okay?”
Your lips tighten together, but you nod anyway.
“When I saw you at the wedding,” He sucks in a breath, “It reminded me of the first time I saw you. Back in college.”
Your breath stutters, heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You try to study his face now, going through everybody you knew back then, but nothing comes up.
He continues, “I didn’t know anyone except for Luke. We’d been the only two people from our high school to end up going to the same university. We were friends because it was convenient.” He sniffs, tugging the edge of his tie. “You and Mandy were there. At orientation. Your hair was in this crazy updo and I thought it was so cool. I wanted to go to talk to you. But Luke couldn’t stop talking about her. Mandy.”
Your chest constricts. It’d always been her then? He’d only gotten with you so he could get to fucking Mandy? You’d thought you were done getting hurt by them, but apparently not.
“You smiled at me that day.” He murmurs, voice thick. “And I thought you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.”
You swallow, heart hammering against your chest.
His lips curve downwards, eyes narrowing slightly. “Me and Luke stopped talking as much after that. He’d found his friends and I found mine. But the one thing I was certain of was that I was going to finally talk to you. So I went to a party, planned out how I was going to introduce myself to you and everything. I saw you and I was walking over to you but–” He pauses, eyes squeezing shut. “You were with him. And you looked so happy and in love and I knew I’d missed my chance.”
You don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to process any of this without a bucket of ice cream and reruns of Glee.
“I stayed in the background after that. Just watching. And it sucked but I figured that was just how it had to be.” He chuckles, “And then I got the wedding invitation and I saw that he wasn’t getting married to you, but to her. And I thought to myself what’re the chances you show up? Clearly very high, because you did.”
He sucks in a breath, finally meeting your gaze. He looks wrecked. “And I lied because I got too in my head. I wanted to be someone else. Someone more like him.” He grimaces when he says it.
“I’m glad you’re not,” You finally cut in, taking the smallest step towards him. “I’m glad you’re not him.”
His lips quirk up and a breathless laugh leaves him. His face turns serious again, tone grim. "When you told me what they did...What he did," His eyes stay locked onto yours. "I wanted to fucking kill him."
You swallow, hands twisting into the fabric of your dress. He sounds so angry just talking about, like the thought of it is enough to rile him up again.
"That's why I kissed you. Why I dance with you. Why I comfort you. Why I look at you like that." He takes a cautious step towards you, "Because I'm so in love with you it hurts."
Tears well up in your eyes, a mix of disbelief and... relief. Like hearing him say those words is everything you'd been wanting to hear and yet too much at the same time.
You want to run into his arms. Want to kiss him until your breaths become his. But, for once, you're able to find your self control.
He tries to smile, but it's weak. Unsure. "Please say something." He nearly begs.
You let out a shaky breath, eyes flickering over his face. “I don't know what to say," You admit softly. You try to control your breathing, but your head is spinning and your emotions keep crashing over you in desperate waves. "I need...time. I think. I don't know. I just--" You hiccup without meaning too, "I need space."
His face drops, but he doesn't argue. Doesn't push for you to talk to him. Just puts his hands on his hips and nods. “Yeah. Okay. I can take you home–”
You shake your head, already pulling out your phone. “No,” It hurts coming out. “I’ll call someone.”
He freezes, something painful flashing in his eyes. “It’s raining.”
You swallow, unshed tears swimming behind your eyes. “I know.”
He looks like he wants to say more, but he refrains. His hands shove into his pockets, chin falling towards the floor. “Okay,” He says shakily. “I’ll go.”
You don’t respond, just watch him twist on his heel and walk into the pouring rain. He doesn’t turn around, and you don't call out to him.
It’s not until he’s no longer visible do you let the tears fall.
Sunoo doesn’t ask any questions when you climb into his car soaking wet and sobbing. Just turns up the heat and goes five over the speed limit the entire way to his apartment.
In truth, you don’t know why you’re crying. You think you’re just…overwhelmed. Does what he did count as lying? You don’t really know. You don't really know if you should be mad or hurt or what either.
You do know that you need to take some time to sort yourself out.
Sunoo leads you onto his couch silently, taking a seat next to you and crossing his arms. He hands you a tissue from the coffee table. “Alright, spill.”
It flows out of you like an open damn. The kiss (though he already knows about that), the dancing, the gazebo--all of it. It feels good to get it off your chest, but saying it out loud also makes it seem all the more real.
The way he’d looked at you when he left. The way his voice broke when he told you he loved you. That he was in love with you.
“And I still don’t know his fucking name!” You groan, hands wiping at the tears on your cheeks.
Sunoo hums, seamlessly handing you another tissue. “That’s…a lot.”
You scoff out a laugh, leaning against the cushions. Part of you hopes they’ll swallow you whole. “Tell me about it.”
Sunoo doesn’t say anything, and for a moment the only noise between you is his soft breaths and your quiet sniffles.
“Did you ever notice him?” He asks, “Back then, I mean.”
Your chest constricts, because, no, you hadn’t. You’d tried to remember his face, but all that ever comes up is Luke. You’d been so enamored with him that the thought of even looking at any other guys never even occurred to you.
Meanwhile, Luke was using you to get to the person closest to you.
Would things have been different if you would've just opened your eyes? If you would’ve looked away from him for a second and saw who was waiting for you? Would you have left?
You hate that you aren’t sure.
“No,” You answer truthfully, breath catching in your throat. “I was so focused on Luke I never even…” You trail off, swallowing uncomfortably.
Sunoo nods, bringing a hand out to rub comfortingly on your bicep. “I can see you thinking.” He condemns, “Stop it. You didn’t know.”
“That’s the problem!” You insist, tears brimming behind your eyes again. “How could I not notice what was right under my nose. Woody and-and the cheating. I was so blind and for what? Because he was the first guy to give me attention?”
Sunoo gives you a sympathetic look, eyebrows knitting together. “He was your first love, [Y/N]. She was your best friend. No one suspects something like that without seeing it with their own two eyes.” He says gently.
You frown. He’s right, you know he is–but still. It doesn’t make you feel any less dumb.
“And I keep thinking about what might’ve happened if I’d just opened my eyes for two seconds. If what Woody said is true then…how much did I miss out on with him?” You murmur, eyes downcast.
Sunoo sighs, standing from the couch and grabbing water from the kitchen. You thank him as he hands it to you, taking a swift sip. It’s smooth going down, but it does nothing to soothe the ache in your chest.
“I won’t lie to you and say it’s not a valid question,” He tucks his feet under himself, propping his elbow against the cushion and leaning his head on it. “But you can’t spend the rest of your life wondering. Especially not when he’s here now. Still waiting for you, might I add.”
You snort, but there’s no humor behind it. “I know,” You mumble, “I just think I need time to try and process everything.”
He smiles, “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
You spend the rest of the night talking about work and whatnot. Anything that doesn’t have to do with college or boys. And it does help for the most part, but Woody's words still linger in your mind like honey in the cracks of your brain.
It happens a couple days later. Your boss calls you to congratulate you on receiving the promotion, voice loud and bubbling in your ear, but you can’t even find it in yourself to share in the enthusiasm. You want to, you really do, but your heart it too heavy.
You keep checking your phone to see if he’s sent anything to you, but he never does. You had asked him for space though, so you can’t exactly be mad at him for giving you exactly what you’d asked for.
But still…part of you had hoped he’d at least say something. Maybe even just a: Hey, How are you? I know I sort of lied to you but isn't it also romantic when you really think about it?
But, now that you’ve had some time to process everything…you want to see him. You want to speak to him and tell him exactly how you’ve been feeling.
So, when Sunoo off handedly mentions a wedding his jobs hosting you can’t help the idea that sparks in your mind.
You remember Woody’s words from that night; “What're the chances you show up?” He’d said, referring to you going to Luke and Mandy's wedding. So is it so crazy for you to ask the same?
If he does show up you aren’t exactly sure what you’re going to say. You don’t know how you’re going to look him in the eye, really. But you’d rather try and make a fool of yourself then not and never know what could’ve happened.
The first thing you notice when you arrive is how different this wedding is compared to all the others. It’s more soft, in a way. With twinkling lights and green hanging vines, the whole thing looks straight out of a fairytale.
You’d ditched the Goodwill dress and actually went to the mall and found a floor-length baby pink gown. The heart-shaped neckline is covered in white lace, accenting the pink silk in a way that looks almost doll-like. You’d pulled your hair up as well, letting a few strands loose to frame your face. Even you had to admit you felt good.
Your eyes scan the area, watching as the bride and groom dance to some classical version of a Taylor Swift song. People watch them, sipping on their wines and swaying back and forth with their own spouses. You look through the crowd, trying to find that familiar head of blonde hair, but you come up empty.
Your chest squeezes, thoughts of uncertainty beginning to float around your head. What if this all really had been a mistake? Maybe he truthfully didn’t want to see you again after everything. What if he’d finally decided to move on?
That’s when you hear it. The soft sounds of a piano from another room. Your head snaps towards it, legs carrying you towards the tune like you’re under the pied pipers spell. And maybe you are.
You push the massive doors open slightly, slipping through and letting it click shut softly behind you. The room is big, with highrise ceilings and massive windows. And there in the center, is a piano. Black and sleek and occupied by a boy with blonde hair and a loose tie.
He doesn’t notice you enter which you’re partially grateful for. He’s too focused gliding his fingers over the keys, playing that damn song.
“Love me harder?” You laugh, soft and warm. “Really?”
His fingers pause their movements, eyes flickering up towards you. He looks shocked for a moment, but it quickly dissipates into something that looks eerily similar to relief.
He chuckles, a small smile working its way onto his lips. “Only the best song ever made.”
You wet your lips, taking small cautious steps towards him. He watches you the entire time, eyes trailing from your face all the way to your feet. He scoots down the bench swiftly, leaving space for you to take a seat next to him.
You do so hesitantly, your hands falling into your lap and your shoulder brushing his.
“Hi,” You breathe out, holding out a hand. “I’m [Y/N].”
He stares at you for a moment, at the hand stretched out in front of him, a silent offering. Something flashes behind his eyes--recognition, maybe. Relief at the thought of starting over.
“Hi,” He croaks, eyes glued onto yours. He takes your hand firmly, fingers fitting over your own like they were made just for you. “I’m Heeseung.”
Heeseung. You let the name bounce around in your mind, going over each syllable and committing them to your memory.
“Heeseung,” You murmur, letting it roll on your tongue. “It’s pretty.”
He grins, letting out a breath that’s bordering on a laugh. “You think so?”
You nod, squeezing his fingers once. “Yeah,” You murmur. “I really do.”
Heeseungs silent for a moment, his eyes glued to where your hands are connected. He clears his throat before bringing your hands down to the keyboard. “Do you know how to play?” He asks.
You shake your head, letting the pads of your fingers run over each key. “Never had the chance to learn.”
He hums, placing his hands over yours. “I could show you,” He offers softly, “If you wanted.”
Your eyes flicker over to him for a moment before they fall back to your joined hands. His thumbs rub into your knuckles, silent encouragement.
“Yeah,” You manage, even though your heart feels like it’s about to tear out of your chest from how hard it’s beating. “I’d like that.”
He smiles, but it’s not the cheeky one you’re used to. It’s sincere and filled with so much love it nearly makes you melt.
He guides your hands over the piano, pressing down keys and chuckling every time your fingers slip. His cologne floods your senses, clouding every thought in your mind until all you can think about is him.
The way his fingers feel against yours, the way his shoulder stays pressed against you, the way he keeps glancing at you like he can’t believe you’re real.
He guides you through the song, murmuring praises every time you play a chord correctly–Really it's just him playing and pretending you’re doing it on your own.
For a moment, the entire world disappears. It’s just you and the boy you’ve absolutely and impossibly fallen in love with, playing piano at the wedding of people you don’t even know.
Your breath shudders as the song comes to a stop. He doesn't lift his hands from yours, doesn’t back away. It's not until you turn to look at him does he even attempt to shift, and even then all he does lean away from you so he can see your face better.
“I’m sorry,” You start, “For everything. For making you leave like that. I should’ve–”
He cuts you off gently, foot nudging yours. “Don’t,” He breathes, “Don’t do that. You don’t need to apologize for needing space.”
God, can he get any more perfect?
You sniffle, nodding once. “Right. I just…” You sigh, eyes diverting from him. “I didn’t know what to do when you told me everything. It was a lot to process.”
He nods, encouraging you to continue.
“But I don’t think it’s everything you told me that scared me. I was scared because I-I was starting to fall for you and I didn’t know how to let you in after everything happened with you-know-who. And not to mention the fact that I didn’t even know your name.” You laugh, shoulders shaking slightly. You finally look at him then, eyes brimming with tears. “But after you left I knew. I knew that I loved you. That I do love you. And if you’ll still have me, I don’t want to run from it anymore.”
Heeseung’s silent, eyes searching yours like he’s looking for any bit of hesitance. When he doesn’t find it, he lets out a soft groan, head tilting back slightly. He squeezes his eyes shut like he's in actual pain. “Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of hearing you say that?” He mumbles, leaning into your space. You can feel his breath against your lips, his heartbeat against your own. “Being yours is the only thing I’ve ever wanted.”
You suck in a shaky breath, your eyes darting down to his lips. “Heeseung,” You breathe.
He doesn’t hesitate then, surging forward and capturing your lips in a kiss.
This one is different from the first one all those months ago. It’s sweeter, slower. He takes his time memorizing the taste of you, a hand trailing up your arm and cupping your cheek.
You pull away for a second, attempting to get a word out, but he doesn’t let you. Instead his lips capture yours again, deeper this time. Your lungs beg for air, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. For this–to keep having him kiss you like you’re the only girl he’s ever seen–you’d learn how to live without air.
“Hee–” You gasp against his lips, a smile breaking through. “Hold on–”
You push against his chest lightly, and he whines–actually fucking whines–and his lips chase yours like it hurts him to be away from you.
“Heeseung,” You giggle, “We’re in public.”
“So?” He questions, breathless and absolutely flushed. “Can you blame me for wanting to kiss the girl I love?”
Heat rises up your neck, lip tugging between your teeth as you try to hold back your smile.
He takes your hand again, pulling you to your feet. “Let’s get out of here then, yeah?”
You barely register the door to his apartment slamming behind you until he’s pushing you against it. His hands find your hips, thumbs digging into the bone but never moving. Never straying beyond respectful.
“You’re so beautiful,” He mumbles, lips crashing against yours, “Nearly fell to my knees when I saw you in this dress.”
You smirk, hands clasping around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. “Yeah?”
He chuckles, parting from your lips to rest his forehead against yours. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “You look like a fucking dream.”
Your lips part, a wave of want splashing over you so fast you barely register it. “Heeseung,” You manage, dragging your hands down his chest. “Touch me.”
He immediately shifts, lips pressing against yours and hands dragging up and down your body. He traces your collarbones, lips trailing open mouthed kisses down your jaw and neck. Your eyes flutter closed, hands tangling in his soft hair.
His breath gives when you tug slightly, a groan spilling through his lips. “Fuck,” He sighs, lips leaving deep red marks everywhere they touch. Like he's claiming you.
You can feel yourself getting needier, hands grasping onto whatever you can find, hips rolling against nothing.
“Hee,” You whine, the nickname slipping out easily. “Please.”
He hums, digging his hands into the flesh of your hips. “Yeah, Baby?” He pecks the side of your jaw, breath fanning against your ear and shooting a shiver down your spine. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Just need you to say it.”
You tug on your bottom lip, cheeks flushing. It's not that you were embarrassed, but the way he says it makes you want to scream.
Your chest heaves against his when you bury your hands into the fabric of his shirt, tugging against his already loosening tie. “Please,” You beg, embarrassment lingering in the tremble in your voice, “I want you to touch me.”
He groans, already leading you into his bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind him swiftly, gently pushing you towards the bed until your knees hit the edge. He guides you down, and your back lands against the sheets with a soft huff, your hair fanning out around you like a halo.
“Gonna give you everything you want,” He murmurs above you, kissing your lips sweetly. His hands linger everywhere, from the dip of your shoulder to the curve of your breast, fingertips featherlight. “You gonna let me, Sweetheart?” He asks.
You nod swiftly, already feeling your underwear grow damp with want. “Yes,” You gasp, “Fuck, Please.”
He chuckles, sliding the straps of your dress down your shoulders and revealing your bra and tummy. He sucks in a breath at the sight, and then swiftly lowers his lips down to the swell of your chest, leaving open mouthed kisses atop the skin.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, “So perfect.”
You arch your back and allow him to unclip your bra, tossing it onto the floor somewhere. His lips are on you then, kissing and sucking your nipples into his mouth like a man starved. Drool dribbles down his chin and down the curve of your breast, shining against your skin.
He makes his way down your sternum, kissing over your ribs, down the soft skin of your stomach, all the way down until his knees hit the floor and he's in between your legs.
He swallows, running his fingers over the silk of your dress covering your legs.
He looks up at you, silently asking for your permission. You give a weak nod of confirmation.
His fingers hook into the top half of your dress pooled around your waist and tugs it down softly. It drags down your legs and plops onto the floor, leaving you in just your underwear.
The air is thick with tension when he comes face to face with the lace covering your folds, eyes zeroed in on the growing damp patch between your legs.
“Fuck,” He groans, breathless. His cheeks are flushed, pupils blown so wide his eyes are nearly black. “You’re perfect.”
His lips find your inner thigh, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses over the skin, all the way down your calf, and over the hard bone of your ankle. He does the same on the other side, taking his time worshipping you like you’re his personal deity.
“Hee,” You whine, hips rolling against nothing, “Don’t tease me.”
He chuckles, his hands running up your thighs before finding purchase against your hips. He doesn’t hold you roughly, but there’s enough intention behind it to keep you in place.
“Just wanna worship you, baby.” He hums, nudging his nose against the crease of your pelvis, “You’re so fucking perfect.”
You roll your eyes, but heat crawls up your neck anyway. “So you’ve said.”
He taps a finger against your hip bone teasingly, lips widening into a cunning grin, like he knows exactly what he does to you. And, honestly, he probably does. “Dreamed about how you’d taste, the sounds you’d make. ” He murmurs, tongue jutting out slightly to wet his kiss-swollen lips. “You gonna let me make you feel good, baby?” He asks.
“Yes,” You gasp out, “God, yes.”
It doesn’t take much after that.
He starts slowly, giving small kitten licks over your panties. You let out a sigh, hands tangling in the sheets and teeth tugging on your bottom lip.
It’s not messy. It’s not rough. It’s sweet and slow, like he’s taking the time to figure out what makes you keen and buck your hips into his mouth.
He finds a soft rhythm, licking into you until the thin border covering your folds gleams with a mix of his saliva and your slick. His nose bumps against your clit, earning a whine from you every time it happens.
He curls his fingers into the waistline of your panties, dragging them down your hips and tossing them onto the floor. The cool air brushes against your slick folds, making you shiver.
Heeseung pauses for a moment, gazing at your sex like he’s committing it to memory. Embarrassment clouds your mind at being stared at like this, like you’re a piece of art he’d pay millions to have.
He sucks in a shaky breath, lips glistening with your slick. “I know I’ve already said it,” He mumbles, dragging a hand down your tummy and letting his thumb brush over your clit. “But you’re beautiful. Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”
He emphasizes your words with a long lick up your folds, tongue flat against your hole. Your back arches off the bed, a whimper sliding out of you without your permission.
Your hands fly to his hair as he eats you out like a man starved, his tongue swirling around your clit.
“Fuck!” You whine, “Fuck–yes! Don’t stop!” You sob out, tugging at his roots. He groans at the feeling, the vibration buzzing against your clit in a way that actually makes your thighs shake.
His lips wrap around your clit then, sucking it into his mouth and lapping his tongue against it. You let out a broken moan, back bowing off the bed. But he presses a hand firmly on your stomach to keep you in place.
He continues, soft then fast, pace fluctuating like he can’t decide whether he wants to take his time. Your thighs shake as you get closer, chest heaving and moans slipping from your mouth like prayers.
You jolt when he prods a finger at your entrance, teasing you slowly before pushing inside. The stretch is good–and when he curls it just right you swear you see stars. Your eyes fill with tears the closer you get, the coil in your stomach tightening to unbearable levels.
“F-fuck–Close–” You manage to gasp.
He hums against you, then adds another finger. You let out a high-pitched whine as he does, hips rolling against his mouth and hand, body completely lost to the pleasure.
He fucks his fingers in and out of you gently, constantly curling right against your g-spot in a way that should be illegal.
“Can’t believe you ever let him taste you,” He says, voice slightly muffled against your pussy. “Bet he couldn’t even make you cum, huh?”
You’re too far gone to form a reply. All you can think about is Heeseung and how close you are to release.
But he doesn’t seem to want a reply from you. Instead, he licks a broad stripe up your clit, and it’s enough to finally break you.
You cum with a sob, fingers tightening in his hair and thighs tightening around his head. Your vision goes white for a moment as he laps up your release like a dog receiving a treat from its owner.
He fucks you through it, mumbling soft praises the entire time. It’s not until you’re crying from overstimulation and pushing his head away does he come up for air. And when he does, you swear you nearly cum all over again.
His hair is a disaster, sticking up in places and curling against his forehead. His eyes are lidded and his pupils are blown out, while slick mixed with saliva glistens across his nose, lips, and jaw. He looks like pure sex and every secret fantasy you’ve ever dared to have.
You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, pulling him up gently until he’s situated atop you again. You kiss him hard and messy, tasting yourself on his tongue. He nips at your bottom lip, requesting access, and you grant it easily.
He swirls his tongue in your mouth, hands gripping your hips and rolling them against the growing bulge in your pants. You gasp when you feel him–thick and hard and already drooling with pre-cum.
He groans when you roll your hips experimentally, his lips parting in a pant and forehead resting against yours. “Fuck, if you keep doing that…” He trails off, eyebrows knitting together.
You grin, wrapping your hands around the tie hanging off of his neck and tugging it off. He seems to get the idea and quickly rids himself of his shirt and pants, leaving him in just his boxers.
You swallow at the obvious bulge, a wet patch of pre-cum practically dripping against the fabric. He gasps when you hand experimentally brushes over it, his eyes falling shut.
You carefully palm him, watching how his face contorts in pleasure. “Fuck–wait–you’re gonna make me cum like this.” He mutters, reaching down and pulling your wrist away and over your head.
He uses his freehand to push his boxers off, revealing his flushed cock to you. Your mouth practically waters at the sight of it–thick and flushed and oh, so pretty.
He sucks in a shaky breath before lining himself up with your entrance, his lips brushing yours as he does. He kisses you as he enters, swallowing every broken whine and whimper that escapes from your mouth.
He’s big–bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, at least. The head of his cock stretches you deliciously, nudging against your walls and carving a place for himself.
“You feel so fucking good,” He whimpers against your lips, the hand holding your wrist shifting so he can intertwine his fingers with yours. He squeezes your hand three times as he bottoms out, and your eyebrows furrow at how deep he is.
He’s resting right against your g-spot, putting continuous pressure onto it until you’re certain you see stars. He doesn't move inside you, letting you adjust to the feeling, but you can tell he’s holding back.
“Hee-Heeseung,” You attempt, using your free hand to paw at his chest. “Please move.”
His breath hitches, burying his face into the crook of your neck. And then he’s rutting into you slowly, broken gasps leaving his kiss-stricken lips.
You squeeze his hand, lips forming into an ‘O’ as he rocks into you with a perfect rhythm. It’s not too rough, not too fast–just enough to drive you fucking crazy. Enough to ensure you feel every vein and every ridge of his cock inside you.
“I love you,” He whines into your skin, leaving dark marks around the curve of your neck, the line of your jaw, the swell of your breasts. Anywhere he can reach. “Love that you’re letting me touch you like this. Love you so much it’s fucking painful.”
A groan rumbles deep in his chest when you roll your hips to meet his. “You like that?” He asks, “Like knowing how crazy you drive me?”
You try to reply, but all that comes out is a broken sob. He picks up the pace now, slamming into you with a rhythm that rivals anything you’ve had before.
“Yeah, you do,” He teases softly, “Don’t worry. Gonna remind you every fucking day.”
You tighten around him instinctively, walls attempting to milk him for everything he’s worth. His hips falter at the feeling, sweat beginning to stick to his forehead.
He fucks you like a man starved, like he’s angry at you for keeping this from him. Tears of pleasure streak your cheeks, each one he kisses away without a word.
The entire thing is too much, too good, and before you know it you’re tightening around him and cumming harder than you ever have in your life.
“There you go, baby,” He gasps, reaching his freehand down to rub light circles against your clit. “Such a good girl for me.”
He fucks you through the orgasm, enjoying every keen and whine you give him, until he’s releasing inside you himself. His cum fills you in hot spurts, painting your hole a creamy white.
He collapses atop you, chest heaving against yours. It takes a moment for the both of you to collect yourselves, but once you do he’s pulling out gently, whispering apologies when you twitch from overstimulation.
He leans over to grab a cloth from the bedside table, kneeling between your thighs and cleaning you softly. He leaves lingering kisses on the inside of your thighs as he does, like he’s thanking you for letting him touch you.
When he’s finished he crawls into bed beside you, staring at your face with a dopey smile.
You raise a brow and let out a confused giggle. “What?”
He shrugs, shaking his head softly. “Just can’t believe I’m so lucky.” He mumbles, leaning in and kissing you softly. You kiss him back easily, hand coming up to cup his cheek.
And it’s then that you think that maybe, just maybe, things were always meant to play out this way.
Maybe, just maybe, that wedding invitation was the best thing that ever happened to you.
And maybe, just maybe, one day you'd be able to send out your own.
wowwowo she’s done!!
this was my first time writing smut so if it’s bad pls forgive me 😓
reblogs are really appreciated and i love to hear from you guys!
