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≡;-꒰ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑴𝒚 𝑷𝒂𝒄𝒆

╰┈➤ ❝ kim seungmin x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 day 4

tags : pwp (without plot), guided masturbation (joi), masturbation (f), clit play, fingering, praise, dirty talk, use of pet names “baby”/”babe”

wc : 1.5k

taglist : @love-and-deepstrays (SIGN UP HERE)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

With an upcoming tour, Seungmin decides to teach you how to pleasure yourself in his absence.

“Come on, baby, I know you can do it…”

There was a soft laugh in his voice as he spoke, half-mocking you, half-encouraging. It brought out a whine from your throat—your fingers slacked, and you tilted your head back to look at him, offering him a pleading stare.

But he shook his head.

“Seungmin—!”

A finger to your lips.

“No, baby. You know I'll be leaving for the tour next week, so you’ve got to learn, you know? What'll I do if you end up suffering the whole time I'm gone again?”

The look in his eyes wasn't… mean. It was kind, in fact; and warm. Though the teasing lilt in his voice was ever present—still very much amused at how much you needed him—he gave the top of your head a little nudge of encouragement before tilting to peek at you again.

He smiled, and it was almost as if the only thing you could do was melt. 

“C'mon. Move your finger, ‘kay? In and out, that's it, slooowly…”

His voice was like honey in your ear as you did your best to follow through, gliding your finger to his instructions and nearly whining at the lack of stimulation.

Truly, you had been spoiled.

Seungmin had always been one to give you the kind of pleasure you felt was incomparable to anything else—he’d ruined you. Even now, as he left slow strokes upon the soft plush of your thigh, you felt as if the only thing you could focus on was him. The way he spread your legs open wider for him, the way he leaned over to rest on your shoulder, breath tickling your skin… All of these sensations, all of what he would do to you, felt good.

Better than what you could manage.

It wasn’t as if you couldn’t do this at all; the sensation of your fingers reaching as deep as you could push them felt as heavenly as it had always felt. But when you compared it—when you compared it—it always fell short.

Seungmin’s hands were bigger than yours. His fingers were longer than yours.

He was more precise, able to push you past that limit whereas you were more prone to freezing in the moment and that rush of pleasure was never simply the same.

And he was right there.

You could hear him chuckle as he watched, the soft rumble enough to make you shiver.

It was almost pathetic, even.

“Aw, c’mon, babe…” You felt him shake his head, and then his hand was over yours, stroking your soft skin in a delicate motion. “You’re barely moving your finger… You can do better than that, right? You can be a good girl for me?”

You wanted to.

So badly, you wanted to.

But you could only whine, tilting back again to look at him, almost as if waiting for instructions— spoiled.

He’d ruined you.

“Just, ah…” 

He let out a sigh, but it came out almost as a soft laugh. Despite his insistence on teaching you how to pleasure yourself—because, clearly, you’d already forgotten how to—he was quite enjoying your predicament.

“Here. Take it out again, drag it up to your clit… There we go. Hear that noise, baby? Focus on it, yeah? Feel how wet you are.” 

The more he spoke, the more you could hear the smile in his voice, even though your eyes drifted back down to what you were doing.

“ Mmm… look at that. Always such a pretty pussy for me… That’s it, circle your clit a little, I know you like it when I tease, baby. You can do that too, you know?”

Another whimper of his name, and you closed your eyes.

It did feel good.

With every word that came out of his mouth, his soft voice a soothing melody that only heightened your pleasure… You could focus on him, imagine him doing it. When you did that, the sparks of pleasure shooting through your body could leave goosebumps in its wake. All you had to do was think of him.

But you still felt stubborn.

“Nnngh… Hn… Minnie… Want your fingers…”

Again he shook his head, and his hand slid back down your thighs to caress your skin, further away from your heat as if to make a point.

“No, baby. Be a good girl and make yourself cum first. C’mon… see? You’re soaking wet for me, you just have to try a little harder…”

He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. He was so close to you. You could hear each shaky breath, each rumble of his chest as you leaned against him. Though you had shifted in a way where you couldn’t feel his erection directly, you were sure it was there; you knew that he was just as turned on as you were, just from watching you pleasure yourself.

“You ready, baby? Wanna slip that finger back in, hm?”

A kiss over the shell of your ear.

The feeling made you shudder, your lips parting—

“Minnie…”

The way his name sounded out was so quiet, so breathy. You could feel his hold on your thigh tighten, clearly affected. He drew in a sharp breath, his hand edging back closer to your wetness.

“Fuuckkk… So, so wet for me…”

He groaned into your ear, and one glance at him was enough to tell you that he was absolutely glued to the way your finger would disappear into your deliciously wet cunt.

“Mmm… Just like that, baby… Does it feel good?” He turned his head a little to place soft kisses onto your cheek, lips gliding over the side of your face.

Another whimper, another whine—it was all that you could truly muster.

“Want me to set a pace for you?” he murmured.

You felt him nuzzle into your neck this time, smiling against your skin as you nodded.

“Okay, then follow my voice. In, and out… in, and out… Attagirl, look at that pretty pretty pussy …” This time, he sighed against you, and you felt his hand slide slowly over your knee before gliding back up, matching the slow pace he used his voice to guide you with. Gradually he picked it up, urging you to go faster, encouraging more moans to fall from your lips.

“Hnn—ah—! M-Minnie… Mi— nngh—”

“ Juuuust like that. What a good, good girl for me, there you go… You found your pace, baby? Wanna curl your fingers a bit? Brush against that spot of yours?”

Fully immersed in the pleasure, you felt your stubborn streak fade away. Perhaps, you realized a second later, he’d picked up on the same thing—his hand settled next to yours, circling the edge of your hole, gathering all the slick that had been leaking out. The sight of it made your breath hitch.

“Mm—M-minnie? Min— S-Seungmi—ngh?!”

You choked out a moan as he pushed inside, sliding in right next to your own finger.

Just a simple motion, but your eyes rolled back, a certain haziness filling the depths of your thoughts. It made you pause. Your finger stopped its movements, more than keen on letting him continue on his own.

“Babe…”

He chuckled into your ear again, a warning.

He didn’t necessarily stop, however—you felt him start to move, moving his finger up against your gummy walls with precision. Every move was calculated. This was the Seungmin that knew, far better than you did, what to do and how to do it.

Because Seungmin had memorized your body like his own.

He knew that.

Truly… he’d ruined you.

Ruined you even for your own self-pleasure, so much so that you were in firm belief that you could never, ever, ever cum as much with anyone or anything else other than him.

“Ngh— ah—! Th-there!” you cried.

He pressed harder, faster—the rhythm was hard for you to follow, already beyond saving in this ocean of pleasure you found yourself in, and you fell against his chest limply, spreading your legs wider as if to coax him for more.

Your hips bucked, mouth open in a string of moans that neither made sense to you nor to him.

“You’re a little helpless…” came his laugh again, but you no longer minded.

Not when he would bury in so deep, not when you could feel that coil build up inside you so readily… Every fuck of his finger deep into your pretty weeping cunt tore a cry from your lips, ready to cum—

Seungmin had always focused on your pleasure.

Sometimes, he was a tease; sometimes, he was insufferable with you… Other times, he was sweet, kind enough to give you exactly what you wanted.

Perhaps, he knew that there was really no getting you out of your predicament—perhaps, he knew that all of this had really amounted to not a single thing learned but the fact that you needed him. Inexplicably so.

He urged you to curl your finger up with him with a little kiss, as he whispered: “Cum.”

Rough pads pressed against the spongy nub on your walls, and your hips jerked upwards.

“Minnie!!!!”

With a loud cry, you felt wave upon wave of pleasure crash through your body, hips bucking wildly into his hand as you felt yourself pull away from your heat to grip helplessly at the sheets below you.

Your eyes were bleary and unfocused, breathing heavy.

“Min… Minnie…”

Moans fell to whimpers.

His finger slipped out in favor of gently massaging your thighs, and he let out a loud sigh—

“Guess I really have no choice… Maybe it’s my fault that you’re always so desperate for me…”

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

you cooked hella with one 🫦

hi! i love your works. can i put in a request? joon or jk x reader. arranged marriage. breeding kink and pregnancy scare. thank you for your service🫡🙏🏾

✩｡°𝄞🍼 TRY AGAIN✨𝄞°｡✩

╝ requested / one-shot ╔

╰ ₊ 𓂂➢ pairing: namjoon x fem!reader

╰ ₊ 𓂂➢ genre: arranged marriage au, smut, angst, a little fluff.

╰ ₊ 𓂂➢ warn!ngs: breeding kink, pregnancy scare, mentions (suggestive) of infidelity, degradation (usage of slut), reader is a brat, reader has a high libido, oral (namjoon and reader), squirting, unprotected sex, mentions of birth control, spanking, hair pulling, rough sex, negative pregnancy test, mention of (trying for) children. (let me know if there’s more!)

╰ ₊ 𓂂➢ summary: your arranged husband punishes you after causing a scene and acting like a brat.

╰ ₊ 𓂂➢ word count: 3,765 words

The sounds of slapping bounces off of the walls like gun shots. Your face is buried into the large fluffy pillows on your king sized bed with your ass raised in the air. Giving Namjoon, your husband, the perfect access to spank your behind.

When the sharp, burning, sting— a millisecond of pain and pleasure is inflicted upon your ass again you let out a whimper into the black silk pillow. As the indecent sounds exit your mouth, Namjoon couldn’t stop the depraved thoughts that battle their way through his mind. You just looked so fucking sexy. So vulnerable and submissive before him, he could just eat you whole right now.

But that wouldn’t be right, now would it? After all, you were a bad girl. You brought this on yourself.

You didn’t think Namjoon would just forget about the way you rubbed your ass against that man on the dance floor? No. He’s not that graceful. You’re his wife, for god sakes. Even if you didn’t take this arranged marriage serious, he must show you that he is. He is taking this very seriously.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to have people asking if the woman causing a scene on the floor is my wife? Huh?” He begrudgingly asks, caressing your ass that is two slaps away from bruising.

You deserved it, the way you seductively eyed him while dancing on another man replays in his mind. He best not be fooled by your little innocent and submissive act right now, you whimpering and whining. He knows you’re a brat.

When his parents first introduced you to him, he knew he’d eventually fall for you. Despite the distasteful you held on your face that entire meeting. You didn’t approve of the arrangement, Namjoon knew that. So he gave you space. But of course, one thing leads to another. Especially when you’re flew out to Italy for a honeymoon, a villa all to yourselves. If you recall correctly, you believe the two of you fucked in all 8 rooms. Plus the kitchen… and the bathroom… the couch, the garden, the pool, the arcade room— damn there everywhere.

Needless to say, Namjoon has been pussy whipped ever since. Becoming helpful, loving and caring— all the amazing qualities one could find in a husband. Along with those qualities, he grew possessive over you, rightfully so, you’re his wife. But it seems like regardless of anything he did, you still seemed to show little to no care for the man. Except for what was between his legs. Because babes, the dick is bomb!

Recently Namjoon has been depriving you from the ‘bomb dick’. So you did what any brat would do. You acted out. Unfortunately for Namjoon, that led to complete and utter embarrassment, displayed in front of all of his friends at a work event. But who cares about that, right?!

Because fortunately for you, Namjoon is spewing all kinds of sexy little insults at you, dirty talking your panties right off.

“Do you enjoy being a fucking slut?” Another slap is planted on your ass. You let out a gasp before biting down on your bottom lip. Useless, as to when he grabs a handful of your hair, roughly yanking it back, your mouth falls agape.

“You like that shit, huh?” You eagerly nod your head, so high off of the thought of getting fucked up. This is exactly what you wanted. Namjoon always gives you exactly what you want.

You strain yourself forward to close in on his lips. His lips wraps around yours as you share a sloppy kiss. Your teeth graze his bottom lip as you pull back. What you do next makes Namjoon lose his shit.

You giggle.

Like actually fucking giggle in his face. Without thinking, he grabs your face, pulling you back in for a hot yet desperate kiss. Namjoon’s eyes furrow into it, trying to get some sort of understanding. He needs to understand how you do it. How you act so heinous one second and then so admirable the next. Even now, you’re submitting to him. But Namjoon knows more than anyone that you have him wrapped around your cute little finger.

The hold on your face doesn’t leave as Namjoon roughly pulls away to marvel in your beauty. Your gorgeously melanated skin, your two toned lips, and those big brown almond eyes he willingly falls victim to. There’s a smirk that plasters on your face that Namjoon doesn’t miss.

“Am I being a good little slut for you?” Namjoon couldn’t hide his widened eyes. He’s angry— completely enraged, you mustn’t forget. But as usual, he gives in. Because you’re in control. “Fuck yes.” He whispers out before flipping you over, absolutely manhandling you. Your figure bounces on the bed as Namjoon hovers over you.

“You don’t even know just how crazy you make me.” He mutters in your ear. Your hands wrap around his neck, fingers traveling through his short blonde locks. “Show me.” You lick at his jawline, slowly nibbling on the chiseled edge. “Show me how crazy I make you, baby.”

Without a second to waste, Namjoon lifts up, attacking the buttons of his black dress pants. He slips them down to his ankles along with his briefs, kicking them off to the floor. The thick, long, pink tipped length you desire is revealed. You lick your lips just to make sure you aren’t drooling. He gives his length a few pumps before his hands are replaced with yours. This is what you’ve been begging for, what you desired and needed inside of you for weeks.

Hell, you even danced on some random middle aged man just to get it. You love it! Namjoon would battle that you love it more than its owner. Especially the way you kiss the tip. Like you’re finally meeting the love of your life after years of being apart. Namjoon breath is shaky when he exhales. Your lips wrap around his tip, you close your eyes and let out a moan, sending vibrations through his dick. “Don’t tease.” He says sternly. And you look up at him, his tip still resting in your mouth.

You look absolutely angelic. The way your big doe eyes innocently look up at him with his dick in your mouth. He could just cum at this image alone. “I’m sorry, baby.” You say with a feigned apologetic tone and expression.

Even if you aren’t sorry, Namjoon is immediately relieved once you take his whole length in your mouth. Your nose touching his lower stomach as you slightly choke. The little gag reflex doesn’t stop you from showing your love to the pretty dick. Namjoon lets out low pitched moans as you continue to attack his length, your performance growing messy. Something you quite liked. What can you say? You’re a proud slut.

But still a brat. You back away from Namjoon’s dick, resting yourself on your elbows that are propped up behind you. Namjoon lets out a groan at the abandonment of your mouth. Instead, you spread your legs, quickly slipping off the soaked black thong you were sporting.

“Look,” you say as your hands reach for your wet cunt— fully exposed, you slip your fingers through before showing them to the man before you. “Look how wet you make me.” You say and you can see Namjoon’s dick twitch at that. You slip your coated digits in your mouth, sucking off your own arousal.

Namjoon is actually fucking shook by your pornographic performance. He knew you had a high libido but damn… he think you might even have him beat.

“You want to taste— or you gonna just keep kneeling in front of me.” You raised a brow, growing impatient. Namjoon is in utter disbelief that you’re his wife. He doesn’t know what he did in his past life to get so lucky. Yet, due to the circumstances, he can’t quite figure out whether he is or not. He shakes away his thoughts, though. He can’t ignore the highly appetizing meal that glistens in front of him right now. The meal he dives into.

His tongue ventures through your folds, mouth sucking on your swollen clit. You throw your head back as Namjoon’s mouth brings you the familiar pleasure that you have wholeheartedly missed. He enters two digits inside of you as his tongue flicked at your clit. You grasp onto his blonde hair as he eats your pussy out like no man ever has. “Fuck yes! Just like that.” Namjoon holds your thigh with his free hand, spreading them wider. His fingers move faster inside of you and you can feel yourself growing closer. You scream out an excessive amount of “yes”s and eventually squirt in his mouth.

Namjoon freezes as you release— not once but twice into his mouth. He looks at the way your chest heaves up and down. That wasn’t enough for him. He needed to be inside of you now. Without any warning, Namjoon slips his dick into your sex, slowly stretching your pussy out. Your legs shake as he makes his way through. “You feel so fucking good.” He mumbles as he thrusts into your pussy again.

The pace almost instantly quickens, the hunger and need from both of you takes over. “I missed your dick so much.” You say as you trail your hands up his chest, caressing over his thickly defined pecks. “Mhn— you’re such a fucking slut. Causing a scene just to get my dick inside of you.” He grabs your hands and places them above your head, restraining you from touching him.

“You feel so good inside of me— ah!” You moan out as Namjoon thrusts deeper inside of your wet pussy. “Fuh— faster, please!” You beg and Namjoon continues to thrust deeper inside of you.

“You’re begging now?” He mocks. It’s quite entertaining to see, actually. He bends down to grab your face, slowing the pace down to tease you even more. “Oh, you don’t like that, do you?” You desperately shake your head. “Beg me to go faster.” Stubbornly, you stay quiet as your pussy aches around his length that slowly strokes inside of you. His lips rest just above yours. “Come on,” he murmurs softly against your lips.” “I wanna hear my little slut beg for dick.” You moan at his words, growing even more aroused.

“Please Joon.” You bite your lip as the grip on your jaw grows tighter. “Please fuck me faster! I— I need your dick.” You beg.

And just like that— you should’ve braced yourself. Namjoon slams his dick inside of your tight hole. Your body jerks at each thrusts. You scream out as Namjoon abuses your tiny cunt. Your screams could be heard throughout the whole two story house.

You look up at Namjoon who is hovering over you while slamming his dick into you. He looks so sexy the way his blonde hair clings onto his dampened face. The sweat trickling down the sides of his face. The sounds of your skin clapping together and the arousal from your pussy lapping up around his dick is sending you over the edge. You feel yourself growing close again.

Namjoon pulls your legs over his shoulders as he fucks into you. You’re completely fucked out— your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel Namjoon hit your spot. You don’t even notice when he attaches his lips onto yours again. You feel yourself unraveling underneath him.

“I’m gonna— mm” You say against his lips. Namjoon nods, breathing heavily. “Cum for me.” He slurs and on command you release yourself around his dick. Namjoon lifts up, still thrusting himself into you. You can feel his dick twitch inside of your pussy, signaling his high.

“Cum inside of me.” You say, eagerly. He looks down at you with an uncertain expression but you nod your head. “Please, cum inside of my pussy.” You whine and Namjoon groans at the sound of your begging. “Fuck.”

Immediately, you feel the warm, sticky, drags of cum release inside of you. You moan at the feeling. He doesn’t pull out. Instead, his chest meet yours and the two of you share another erotic kiss.

It’s been two weeks since that night Namjoon had fucked your brains out. Ever since that night, he hasn’t touched you. Most likely still angry about the events that occurred before he fucked your brains out. Rightfully so— even you can admit that you crossed the line that night. Did you mention he fucked your brains out?

Nevertheless, you have bigger fish to fry. You’re late on your period. You should’ve gotten it a few days ago but the red flood never showed.

Yes, you’re on birth control. Still, inevitably you miss a few days because of your inconsistent schedule so it may not be that effective. Especially not when you beg your husband to cum inside of you.

You wince at the thought as you rest your head on the bathroom door. A few hours ago you went to go pick up a few pregnancy tests from the store. You can’t help but overthink while you wait for the stick you just peed on to tell you whether or not you’re pregnant. You try to imagine the possibility of becoming a mother, how you would act and how you’d speak. How Namjoon would react when you tell him you’re pregnant. Him as a father.

You’re immediately snapped out of your thoughts when you hear the front door slam.

Namjoon’s home.

Your heart rate immediately increases and you pray that he’ll continue ignoring your existence just like he has the past two weeks.

It seems that god is not on your side because you can clearly hear his footsteps approaching the bathroom. Of course he has to go to the bathroom. You just want to cry but that wouldn’t be much help either.

The door handle to the bathroom turns but doesn’t open. The lock on the door stopping him from entering. After a few seconds, he knocks. You flinch at the sound, looking around the bathroom for a way out. Obviously, at a loss when u realize that you’re trapped inside the four walls.

“_______, open the door I have to use the bathroom.” You hear him say behind the door. You look at the pregnancy test on the sink to see that nothing has changed. You silently curse to yourself. Why the fuck is this piss stick taking so long.

“_______.” You hear your name again, along with a few knocks. “I— I’m using the bathroom.” There’s a sigh on the other side of the door. “Well, can you hurry? I’m about to piss myself.” He adds, impatiently to which you roll your eyes.

“Use the guest bathroom!” You shout defensively. Due to you being on the other side of the door, you can’t see the way Namjoon’s brows furrow together. You two never use the guest bathroom even if someone is taking a shit. It’s like an unspoken rule.

“I swear to god _______, open the door. I’ve seen you shitting like a thousand times already.” It’s true, you really couldn’t care less what Namjoon had to say about your smelly poop. Unlike Namjoon who would beg you to leave. But you’re running out of excuses.

“Namjoon, fucking— ugh! Just go to the other bathroom!” You spaz and Namjoon is left with only one thought.

“Is there someone in there with you?” He asks and when you grow silent he makes up his mind. You honestly didn’t know what to say, you were taken aback. How could he think so lowly of you?

“You brought a man into our house _______?” The sound of his voice is a mixture of hurt and anger. And maybe you would feel bad for the man if you weren’t too busy trying to pick your jaw up off the floor. Because… how dare he?

“What the fuck are you talking about? Why would I bring someone into our house?!” You’re pissed that he would even think you would do some shady shit like that. I mean yes, shaking ass on another man in front of his coworkers is bad but bringing another man into your house while he’s gone… that’s fucking low. Even for you.

“Why?” He mockingly repeats before letting out an unhumorous laugh. “Because you don’t want to be in this marriage, that’s why! I wouldn’t be surprised if you brought someone here just to rub that shit in my face.” You angrily swing the door open, absolutely not giving a shit about the stupid pregnancy test on the bathroom sink. You are livid and now Namjoon is going to hear your mouth. Face to face.

“As much as I don’t want to be in the marriage I still have respect for you and I would never bring anyone into this house.” You shout at him. The man is way taller than you but somehow you’re still all up in his face.

“I don’t even know where you would get that idea from. Unless you had another woman in our house.” You fold your arms over your chest. Okay… you knew Namjoon would never bring another woman into this house. You just had to give him a taste of his own medicine. And the expression on his face is so worth it.

“I would never do that to you.” He says, more reassuring than defensive. “I’m the one who is always desperately trying to make this marriage work. I want this to work.” His voice turns soft and he steps closer to you to grab your hands. You couldn’t even be angry at him. Not when he’s right.

You see how hard he’s trying everyday to get through to you. However, you can’t help but be angry. You didn’t want this marriage and you know it’s not his fault but hell… someone had to be at fault. So you take your anger out on him. Looking up at the man you can’t help but feel bad.

“Look,” he says. “I’m sorry for accusing you of bringing someone here— that was fucked up and I shouldn’t have taken it there. I’m just… a little insecure right now and that’s something that I need to work on.” His explanation makes you want to shower him with kisses and hugs. There’s no way you’ve made this man think lowly of himself. The man is absolutely breathtaking and could have anyone he wanted.

If the circumstances were different you would’ve approached him anyway. He’s exactly the type of man you always wanted in your life.

“Don’t apologize.” You focus your eyes on the ground. “It’s my fault, I’ve been acting really bitchy and giving you a hard time.” Your eyes finally meet his again and there’s nothing but disbelief behind them. He doesn’t even think he’s hearing you correctly. There’s no way you’re apologizing.

“You don’t have to work on anything— you’re perfect, Namjoon. I… have to work on being a better wife.” Namjoon swears he hears fireworks going off somewhere. He doesn’t even think before pulling you into a tight hug. Completely forgetting about the urine that was previously begging to be released. And you forget all about the stupid pregnancy test that rests on the sink.

Until Namjoon see’s it. He hesitantly pulls back from the hug, looking as if he seen a ghost. “Joon, what’s wrong?” You ask, worried that there actually might be ghosts in your house. That’d be a real bummer— this house costed a fortune.

“You’re pregnant?” He mindlessly say, still eyeing the pregnancy test on the sink. Your heart drops at the words, eye widening. “I am?!” In an instant you turn around to check the stick. Picking you up you notice the red line going through it.

Only one red line.

You stare at that line for a moment, feeling disappointed for some reason. You waited for what felt like ages for the test to process. Thinking of the future and what type of mother you’d be, how Namjoon would be an amazing father. And it’s negative.

“It’s negative.” You say and Namjoon can’t make out your emotion. You throw the stick out in the waste bin before spinning around the face Namjoon. “I guess we don’t have to worry about the giving the whole abortion talk.” You lamely say before letting out a strained laugh. Namjoon eyebrows furrow at that.

“You wanted to have an abortion?” He sounds disappointed. He would never stop you from having an abortion— it’s not his place. But the thought of you not wanting to have a child with him did kind of hurt.

You shake your head at Namjoon’s question. “No it’s not that. I just assumed… you know.” You awkwardly fidget with your hands as you try to find your words. “I didn’t think you’d want to have a child so soon.” Shrugging your shoulders, you let out another strained laugh, much to Namjoon’s dismay.

“That’s not funny, _______” His expression is serious. “This is why we need to communicate. I’ve always wanted children— I’d want nothing more than to have a child with you _______” He speaks sincerely and you swear you could burst into tears right now.

You place your hands on his cheeks to pull him down for a kiss. It’s not rough, titillating, or sloppy. It’s a kiss filled with passion and for once there’s a speckle of joy in there. You felt safe and secure in Namjoon’s arms. Your husband. A man you don’t quite love yet but you definitely like him. And you’re willing to love him— to fall in love with him.

Namjoon pulls away to catch his breath. You couldn’t help but smile up at your gorgeous husband. “Thank you… for saying that Namjoon. For everything, honestly.” The blonde haired man is smiling from ear to ear. He couldn’t control the wholehearted happiness he felt— it’s floating along with his aura.

“Mmm, thank you for saying you’ll have my kids.” He says, his smile widens as you let out a little laugh. The dimples in his cheeks so prominent you wanna bite them. “The test is negative, Joon.” You remind him. Just in case he forgot from all of the cheesing and giggling he’s doing.

As if he couldn’t express his euphoric excitement any more than he already has, he picks your body up into his strong arms. His hands resting underneath your thighs as he walks you to the bedroom, his lips on yours.

You pull away, not without letting a goofy little giggle leave your mouth. “What are you doing?” You ask, in complete oblivion. Namjoon smiles at you before quickly pecking your lips.

“We’re gonna TRY AGAIN.”

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Jealousy

Pairing : Namoon x reader fab

Genre : smut, real world au (?) angst, slight possessiveness and jealousy, MDNI, slight fluff.

Summary: Friends with benefits always gets complicated when one of you catches feelings.

Word Count : 4.5k

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The clinking of glasses and the buzz of conversation filled the air, a symphony of sound that perfectly matched the warm, inviting atmosphere of the cosy bar.

The scent of freshly grilled meats and the faint aroma of soju mingled in the air, creating a comforting and intoxicating blend.

Soft, warm light washed over the room, casting a gentle glow on the faces of the people gathered there.

You sat at a table with your large group of friends, a comfortable mix of laughter and camaraderie enveloping you.

Namjoon was finally back after three long months away, his business trip over, and everyone was here to catch up.

Your eyes scanned the table, landing on Namjoon. He was sitting across from you, his face lit up with a smile as he engaged in conversation with your friends.

Feeling your gaze, his eyes flicked towards yours, a small dimpled smile spreading across his face. You returned the smile, a flicker of something familiar passing between you.

Although your group was close, there was a secret between you and Namjoon, a secret that no one else knew.

A secret that had started with a drunken night and had turned into something more.

You had been friends for a long time, but that night, under the influence of alcohol, you had crossed a line simply because you both had been feeling needy.

Namjoon had made it clear from the beginning that he didn't want a relationship. It was purely fucking, a casual arrangement that suited both of you. Or so you thought.

As time went on, your feelings for him had grown. You had already fallen for his dimpled smile, his kindness, and the way you connected over deep conversations and shared interests.

He was everything you wanted in a man. Sleeping with him only further cemented those feelings, causing you a lot of heartache.

You had felt stupid and foolish for putting yourself in such a vulnerable position.

So, when Namjoon had told you he was going away for work, it had been a relief—a much-needed break to get your head straight and put some distance between the intense emotions you had been wrestling with.

While he was away, the two of you kept in touch through the occasional text message.

After all, you were still friends, and it felt natural to check in on each other. The conversations were friendly, casual—nothing too deep or revealing.

You made sure to keep it light, steering clear of any topics that might dredge up the more intimate aspects of your past arrangement.

You had taken this opportunity to fully embrace the idea of moving on.

And so you joined a dating site. It felt like a fresh start, a chance to explore new possibilities and meet someone who could offer the kind of connection you were truly looking for.

At first, it was a bit nerve-wracking, scrolling through profiles, wondering if anyone could match up to the image of Namjoon that still lingered in your mind, but you had made progress.

Just as you were about to take a sip of your drink, something in your peripheral vision caught your attention. You did a quick double take, seeing a familiar face in the crowd. It was the guy you'd been on a few dates with recently.

Surprise shot through you, quickly setting your drink down, you made your way over to him. Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed his arm. "I didn’t know you came here!" you exclaimed, a smile spreading across your face.

He flashed you a bright smile. "Hey! I’m here waiting for some colleagues. What about you? Who are you with?"

You nodded toward the table behind you. "I’m here with some friends. Come say hi!"

As you led him over, Namjoon's expression darkened. He glanced sharply from Jung to you, clearly puzzled and annoyed at how close you seemed. Who the hell is this guy? he thought, his mind racing.

After the introductions were made, Hoseok couldn’t resist asking, "So, how do you two know each other?"

Jung’s smile grew even warmer as he glanced at you. "We’ve been on a few dates," he said, his eyes lingering on yours.

You shifted slightly, feeling the heat rise in your face as you avoided making eye contact with Namjoon.

Namjoon’s jaw tightened visibly, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

A flicker of possessiveness stirred in Namjoon, surprising even him.

He knew he had no right to feel this way, but the thought of you with another man was like a needle pricking at his chest, making him uncomfortable.

He swallowed hard, trying to push away the tightness that constricted his breathing.

“Oh, nice. So, are you two going to go out again?” Jimin asked, his curiosity evident in the playful smile on his face.

“Yeah, sure. I mean I would like to.... if Y/N wants to” Jung said, his gaze shifting back to you, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Namjoon’s mouth went dry. His stomach felt like it was twisting into knots as he waited for your response. What if she says yes?

The thought made him feel uneasy. His fingers drummed nervously against his thigh as he tried to steady his breath.

You nodded slowly, your voice soft and hesitant. “Yes,” you managed to say, though the word felt like it got stuck in your throat.

The sense of guilt, though irrational given your arrangement, settled heavily on your shoulders. You were acutely aware of Namjoon’s presence, the intensity of it making you squirm.

You certainly didn’t want Jung to know about your history with Namjoon. The last thing you needed was to complicate things further.

When you glanced back at Namjoon, you found him stone-faced, his jaw clenched tight. The rigidity in his posture was unmistakable. You frowned, silently questioning him, but he only looked away, sipping on his drink quietly.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you forced yourself to focus back on Jung, attempting to ignore the unsettling tension that lingered like a thick fog in the air.

You laughed along with your friends, trying to blend back into the cheerful atmosphere, but the knot in your stomach wouldn’t loosen.

A few minutes later, Jung’s colleagues arrived, and with a quick, friendly goodbye, he wandered off to join them.

You watched him go, grateful for the brief respite from the awkwardness. As you turned back to your friends, you realized Namjoon was gone.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as you scanned the room, searching for him. Where did he go?

Just then, you caught sight of him slipping out through the main entrance. Without a second thought, you hurried after him, weaving through the crowd as you dashed toward the door.

The cold air bit at your cheeks as you stepped outside, your breath fogging in the night. The city lights, a blur of neon and yellow, reflected off the wet pavement.

You spotted Namjoon leaning against a wall, a cigarette burning between his fingers, his tall figure partially hidden in the shadows.

The streetlights cast eerie, elongated shadows that danced around him, adding to the sense of foreboding.

"Namjoon," you called softly, your voice almost a whisper against the backdrop of the bustling street.

He looked up at you, his eyes a bit glazed from the alcohol, the usual sparkle replaced by a dull haze. The cigarette smoke curled around his face, obscuring his features. "You okay?"

"I’m fine," he replied, but the clipped tone in his voice told a different story.

He lurched from the wall, his movements slightly unsteady, and stubbed the cigarette out before heading off down the street away from you.

You stood there, confusion knotting in your chest as you watched him start to walk away.

His sudden change in behaviour left you feeling adrift. Without a second thought, you hurried after him, your frustration simmering with every step.

"Joon! Wait. What’s going on?" you demanded when you finally caught up to him, grabbing his forearm. The tension radiated off him in waves.

"Just leave me alone and go back to Jung," he replied in a monotone. His voice was cold and distant, as if he were speaking to a stranger.

“What?!” Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to make sense of what he was saying, taking in his face.

“Are you jealous?” you asked, almost in disbelief. Your voice trembled slightly, caught off guard by his sudden outburst.

He whirled around to face you, his eyes blazing with a cocktail of emotions. “Jealous? Of him?!” he asked, incredulity dripping from his words. His voice was harsh, almost venomous.

“Well, why else would you say that? You’ve been in a mood ever since he sat with us,” you pointed out, your voice edged with frustration. You took a step closer.

“I just don’t like him. You’re too good for him,” he spat out through clenched teeth, the words dripping with a mix of anger and something else—something you couldn’t quite place.

Namjoon continued walking, breathing harshly.

“You don’t even know him!” you shot back, fists clenching as you struggled to keep up with his long strides.

A few drunken bystanders turned and looked at you, their curious eyes following your heated exchange.

Their laughter, muffled and distant, added to the tension in the air. You ignored them, focusing solely on Namjoon and the growing intensity of his anger.

“I don’t need to. I don’t want you seeing him,” he snapped over his shoulder.

“Are you kidding me. Do you hear yourself?!” You let out a disbelieving snort, your eyes wide in shock at his audacity.

“Just because we fucked a few times doesn’t mean you can dictate who I can date! You’re just pissed because I’m not going to come running when you want some pussy” each word punctuated with the sting of betrayal.

“Isn’t that what friends with benefits means? We agreed on the arrangement, didn’t we?” he shot back, his voice tinged with frustration as if you were the one breaking the rules.

You laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and unforgiving in the cold night air. “Yeah, but that also means it ends when one of us starts dating!”

Namjoon’s pace slowed as he reached the entrance of his apartment, his voice dropping to a gritty, low growl. “Were you even going to tell me?” He stopped abruptly, turning to face you, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

You swallowed hard, “Yes, when the time was right. What about you? I could say the same for you, what about the women you were hooking up on your work trip.”

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed, his expression tightening. He looked almost insulted by your words, as if you’d just questioned his character. “That’s because there were none!” he snapped, his voice rougher than you expected.

You laughed again, this time with incredulity. "Are you serious? You, the most gorgeous man I know, who can command a room and have any woman he wants has nothing to tell? That you weren't getting pussy whenever you wanted?"

The irony of your so-called friends-with-benefits arrangement stung like salt in an open wound. It was almost absurd when you thought about it.

Here he was, this breathtakingly handsome man, someone who could have anyone he desired, and yet he had chosen you. Just you—average, unremarkable, nothing special. A friend.

It felt like some cruel joke, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he had even bothered with you in the first place.

Namjoon’s expression shifted, his eyebrows shooting up as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. “You think I’m attractive?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You let out a heavy sigh, the exasperation clear in every breath you took. It felt like a punchline to a joke that wasn’t funny.

“Are you seriously asking me that? It’s not the point. The point is you were gone for three months. Did you really think I was just going to sit around and wait for you like some pathetic puppy, waiting for your next call to hook up?"

The weight of everything unsaid between you was too much, and you were already stepping back, the chilly night air biting at your skin.

Namjoon’s gaze followed you as you moved, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

His eyes, those deep eyes that usually commanded a room, were now clouded with confusion and something else—something you couldn’t quite place.

You took a few steps away from him, your breath coming out in sharp bursts, trying to create some distance between you and the emotional storm you were caught in.

But before you could get far, his voice cut through the night, low and possessive, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

"You’re mine."

The words stopped you in your tracks, your heart pounding in your chest.

You turned slowly, meeting his eyes. There was something desperate, almost primal, in the way he looked at you—like he was on the edge of losing something he couldn’t bear to let go of.

Your breath hitched, your mind racing to catch up with what he had just said.

The audacity of it, the sheer nerve, made your blood boil, but there was something else too—something in the way he said it that made your chest tighten, something you didn’t want to name.

"What did you just say?" a mixture of disbelief and curiosity in your tone.

He stared at you, his eyes searching yours, the intensity between you growing thicker with each passing second. Finally, he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

"You heard me" he said, his tone firm. "I know we had an arrangement, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay with you being with someone else."

"Do you hear yourself?" you managed to croak out, the emotion clawing at your throat, threatening to spill over. “I'm not someone's property”

You wanted so badly to be his, to be loved by him in the way you had always dreamed, but deep down, you knew he never wanted that with you. It had always felt like you weren’t good enough for him, like you were a mere afterthought in his world.

“I know you're not,” He sighed heavily. His brows furrowed deeply, a stark contrast to his usually eloquent demeanour.

It was as if every carefully chosen word he normally wielded so effortlessly had suddenly betrayed him, slipping into clumsy, hurtful phrases.

He knew he should have been able to articulate his feelings with precision, but the weight of the situation left him grappling for the right words.

He stepped even closer, his body nearly brushing against yours. The proximity was suffocating, yet electrifying, his presence overwhelming your senses.

His thick, pillowy lips, so soft and inviting, hovered dangerously close to yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

The desire to close the gap between you was almost unbearable.

“Why did you follow me here? Your boyfriend is still at the bar,” he added, his voice rough and accusatory, his words slicing through the fragile connection between you.

“He’s not my boyfriend” you shot back, your tone defensive

Namjoon’s eyes flared. "No? Then I can do this."

His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body pressed so close that you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Your soft breasts pressed against his hard chest, creating an overwhelming sense of intimacy.

"Namjoon!" you gasped, your eyes widening in shock at the sudden proximity. His grip tightened, holding you in place, his gaze never wavering from yours.

The world around you seemed to blur, the sounds of the night fading into the background.

Before you could react, his lips crashed against yours with a fierce urgency that took your breath away.

For a fleeting moment, you gave in to the kiss, feeling the familiar warmth of his lips flood your sense, tasting him. But as quickly as it began, reality snapped back into focus.

You placed your hands on his chest, the firmness of his muscles grounding you as you pushed him away.

“Why are you acting like this?” you whispered, your voice trembling as you searched his face for answers tears pricking at your eyes.

You couldn’t understand why he was being so possessive, so contradictory, and it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

Namjoon’s expression shifted the moment he saw the tears threatening to spill over. The hard lines of his face softened, and his grip on you loosened just enough for you to feel the change in his demeanour.

He would never want to hurt you, that much was clear, and seeing you in pain seemed to break something inside him.

“I love you, Y/N” he croaked.

The words hung in the air between you.

“You don’t mean that,” you say calmly. “This is just a reaction to seeing me with someone else.”

The hurt that crossed his face was unmistakable, a sharp, raw edge that made your heart twist in your chest.

“Is that how low you think of me?” His brows furrowing as he stared at you, as if he couldn’t believe you would think that of him. "You know me more than anyone!"

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Your eyes dropping to the ground. “But we knew this would end eventually. That’s what friends with benefits means. You never wanted a relationship… and… I-I did.”

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, each one a painful reminder of the boundaries you had tried so hard to respect, the unspoken rules you had forced yourself to follow.

You dared to glance up, just for a moment, only to find Namjoon’s expression unreadable. His jaw was clenched, the muscle there twitching slightly as he processed your admission.

Suddenly, his hand was under your chin, his touch gentle but firm as he tilted your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

The intensity in his eyes made your breath hitch, the raw emotion there sending a shiver down your spine. His thumb brushed softly across your skin, wiping away a tear that had slipped free.

"I love you, Y/N," he said, his voice low and unsteady, yet filled with an undeniable sincerity that made your heart skip a beat. "I’m in love with you. You’re the only person I want."

You couldn’t respond, your mind struggling to process the gravity of his words.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, spilling over as you spoke, your voice choked with sobs. “If that were true, you would have said something sooner," you cried, the pain in your voice cutting through the air.

"You wouldn’t have left me confused and hurt, wondering what I meant to you. It’s my fault—I should have never agreed to this when I knew how I felt. I was selfish because it was the only way I could have you.”

Your breath hitched as the tears came harder, your chest heaving with the effort to hold yourself together. "And now… now you’re just jealous because I can get another guy," you added, the words bitter and sharp on your tongue.

He took a step closer, his gaze locked on yours, a tenderness in his eyes that made your heart ache.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I never wanted to hurt you. I was afraid… afraid of ruining what we had, afraid of losing you if I asked for more. But I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else, Y/N. I can’t pretend anymore.”

You stared at him, your mind racing, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that had erupted between you. His hand, still holding your chin, was warm and steady, grounding you in the moment.

The desperation in his voice, the vulnerability in his eyes—it was all too much, too overwhelming. "But why...why would you love me? I'm just average." your voice wavers.

“Do you see yourself?” he asked, his tone almost incredulous. “You’re beautiful, Y/N. Perfect. Perfect for me.” His gaze softened further, and he took a deep breath.

“The way you find positivity in every situation… How supportive you are of my dreams. It’s like you see me in a way no one else does.”

He paused, reaching up to gently brush a tear from your cheek, his touch feather-light yet electrifying.

“I love how your face lights up when you talk about your hobbies and passions. I could listen to you for hours and never tire of it. And it’s not just that,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion, “it’s how you care for people so deeply. How you make me want to be a better person.”

The intensity of his gaze seemed to hold all the things he had never said before, all the things you had hoped he felt but never truly knew.

“You’re everything to me, Y/N. Please don’t doubt that. Please don’t think you’re just average. Because to me, you’re extraordinary.”

“I…” you started, but the words faltered as your throat tightened with emotion.

“Do you love me?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

You frowned, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find your voice.

Every part of you was screaming for release, for the truth you had kept buried for so long.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you took a slow, shuddering breath and nodded.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough, almost pleading.

“I-I love you too” you whispered, the words escaping your lips like a confession, both freeing and terrifying all at once.

The moment the words left your mouth, Namjoon’s expression shifted—something fierce and determined flashing in his eyes.

Without another word, he grabbed your hand, his grip firm and unyielding, and pulled you towards the door of his apartment.

The world blurred around you as he slammed the door shut behind you, the sound reverberating through the walls.

Before you could even register what was happening, he was on you, pushing you up against the wall, his body pressing hard against yours.

His lips crashed onto yours, the kiss searing and desperate, as if trying to make up for all the lost time, all the words that had gone unsaid.

Your breath caught in your throat as you kissed him back, the intensity of the moment consuming you.

His hands roamed over your body, holding you close, his touch a mixture of possessiveness and tenderness.

Every inch of you was hyperaware of him—his warmth, his strength, the way his heart pounded against yours as he deepened the kiss.

His hand tangled into your hair, and a low, frustrated groan rumbled in the back of his throat. He pressed himself closer to you, seeking the friction that had been building between you.

His hard erection pressed insistently against his zipper. “I can’t take it anymore. I need you” he groans.

Clothes are quickly strewn across the floor, not even making it to the bedroom. Each article of clothing falls in a haphazard trail, creating a disarray of fabric that maps out the urgency and desperation of the moment.

Namjoon’s hands are restless, fumbling with the buttons of your jeans as if he’s afraid that if he doesn’t act quickly, this moment will slip away. His touch is feverish and hungry.

Bending down he picks you up his strong biceps bulging, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, arms around his neck. Your back is pressed against the cold hard wall, a complete contrast to how hot your body feels.

He rests his forehead against yours and he watches himself rub the tip of his hard swollen cock through your wetness.

Too eager to be inside you, too impatient to take it slow, as if reading his mind, your breathy voice next to his ear begs him "Please, Joon...I've missed you, I need you inside me!"

He groans "Shit....if you say things like that, I'm gonna cum too soon" you giggle, kissing his neck and jaw, slowly nibbling on his ear.

"Please fuck me" you whine.

"What my girl wants, she gets" he grunts, slowly lubricates his cock in your juices, rubbing back and forth he rubs his tip, before letting it catch in your entrance, and pushing his hips forward, letting himself sink into you.

His eyebrows furrowed, watching for any signs of discomfort. You bite your lip, as you try to accommodate him.

“Good girl, you’re taking me so well” he whispers above your lips, his voice strained as he tries to control himself, pushing into inch by inch.

You both cry out as his big cock slowly stretches your pussy open, the delicious burn, quickly giving way to pleasure when you feel him deeply lodged inside you. “oh fuck!”

“You okay?” he asks, concern etched on his face.

You nod a little. “You can move”

Your head lolls back against the wall as he slowly fucks into you, getting you accustomed to his length again. It feels so fucking good.

“"You are taking me so well. Fuck!” He groans, spreading your thighs wider his lips travelled down to the sensitive spot on your neck, leaving a trail of hot, demanding kisses that made your toes curl.

Each touch ignited a fire within you, sending shivers down your spine as his warm breath mixed with the intensity of his kisses.

He angles his hips, rolling them up as the tip rubs against your spongy wall inside. He moves slowly, his rhythm steady and powerful.

“Ugh!” You cry out, nails digging into his back as you cling on to him tightly.

He kisses you roughly". Who´s making you feel this good?"

“Mmmm. You are!” Heat prickles across your chest as you begin to feel the first tingles of your orgasm approaching.

“Fuck! Joon! Please. I’m going to cum!” You squeeze your eyes shut, as you focus on the pleasure.

“Open your eyes Y/N. Let me watch that pretty face of yours when you cum on my cock” he slams into you again with a growl, your eyes flash open, staring in to his intense gaze. "

Your pussy contracts around him, he can feel how aroused you are. Slick coating his pelvis.

Your stomach muscles clench and suddenly you take in a harsh breath as the pleasure washes over you, thighs trembling, nails digging into his shoulders.

So perfect" he murmurs, kissing you deeply swallowing your moans.

He begins to pick up speed, thrusting over and over into your swollen pussy, chasing his own high. The pleasure builds, his own fingers digging into your ass cheeks as he holds you tightly.

A guttural moan leaves his lips, moaning your name against your ear, his thrusts becoming sloppier, and uneven.

He finally comes to a halt, his breath coming in ragged gasps, sweat glistening along his chest and face.

He leans down, pressing his lips gently to your forehead, to your cheek and then gently on your mouth.

"I love you so much" he whispers softly.

All rights reserved. © 2024 Mikrokosmos Love

HOW WAS YOUR DAY: NAMJOON

Summary: Just namjoon fingering you in his studio as he asks you about your day.

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: idol!Namjoon×reader. fingering, squirting, namjoons lap (it's a warning, yes), kissing.

Authors note: I want him. SO BAD. ___________________________________________

"I was uh..I was walking by her when I c-came and she g-gave me such looks-" you try talking as Namjoon’s fingers abuse your clit. He had you sat on his lap, your hands around his shoulders, your hips sat on his left thigh as he spread your legs slightly to fit his hand under your skirt.

"She did?" He asks, you nod whining. His hands work slowly as if he had all the time in the world.

You had visited him at his studio because you missed him. It had been days since you saw him, so you came bearing coffee and food. But as soon as you entered the building, the new recruit in his managing team gave you a dirty look.

You were his girlfriend for fucks sake!

"I wanted to smack her so bad, ohhh my-" you trail as he dips his fingers inside you to gather some wetness getting back to your clit again, rubbing it in faster more precise circles.

You gasp, squirming as he lazily sucks a hickey on your neck while making you see stars.

"So good joon fuck I love your fingers." He hums against your skin, squeezing your waist with his other hand resting against your back while his fingers tortured you back and forth from your climax.

"Did you eat something, love?" You nod, feeling the knot inside you, forming slowly and very gradually. His hands slow down his ministrations, and you whine as you feel your legs shake out of sensitivity.

"Joon-" you breathe out as he smiles proudly at the purple mark he gave you on your neck, marking you as his.

"What did you eat?" He asks with hooded eyes admiring the mark he left while you try to make phrases inside your dizzied head.

"I- some- ah fuck- I had a gimbap with my colleagues, mm-" You words stop with a hitch in your breath as he slides two fingers slowly inside you. You try holding his wrists, but then your hands end up clutching your hair because you feel so good.

"Colleagues, huh?" He says, curling the tip of his fingers slightly to tickle that spot.

"Oh shit right there!" Your head falls back as you feel that spot being rubbed in a way that makes your eyes roll.

"Was Mark there too?" You just gasp as his fingers rub your insides and his thumb rubs your clit from the outside. Your brain short circuiting at the amount of pleasure you're receiving.

You squirm in his hold as his other hand makes you stay still. His tongue licking around your earlobe while his fingers abused the little spongy spot inside you.

"I asked you something, love." his voice was so gentle yet firm, making your mind search for the question he asked. Your brain was too dizzy to think with his thick thighs underneath you along with the hard on he had, so you just moaned, clenching hard around his fingers.

He pulls his hand out and smacks your swollen cunt, shoving his fingers once again. Asking you again, silently.

Was he?

"I dont know, I dont know-" you repeat with a high-pitched whine, your voice echoing and bouncing against his studio walls. You're glad the studio was soundproof, or people might think Namjoon was killing someone in there.

He chuckles mocking your thoughtless face, "so dumb, my baby, look at you, my baby can't answer coz I fuck her open with my fingers huh? My perfect little cocksleeve." You clench hard as he makes you feel smaller by each syllable. You squirm in his hold, making him bite your skin underneath your ear.

"I'm close so close oh-so cl-so-" he chuckles as you babble dumbly, breathing heavily against your ears that it makes your mind wander to how hard he must be right now.

The moment your mind travels to his dick you miss it inside you, you want to feel him inside you, the stretch of his fingers making you miss the way his cock split you open 3 days ago.

3 fucking days.

You think you might die if you dont get fucked by him today.

Your eyes water as you feel your orgasm coming closer, his hard on pressing against the back of your thigh, making your mind swirl with dirty thoughts.

Your fucked out brain getting reminded of the way he pounds you against the mattress, the way he fucked you in his balcony 35 floor above the city. How he fucked you open with his cock in front of his mirror, fingers inside your mouth as he pumped himself dry inside you filling with his warm cum.

His warm cum. Oh god.

"Jesus, you're crushing my hand so hard." He says through his teeth as he feels your thighs tightening around his hand, your face buried in his chest.

When he fastens his pace, he pulls your legs apart by his other free hand, making you spread open for him on his lap. Your other leg now in his hold from under your knee, resting on the table in front of him. You were exposed to the studio walls, feeling vulnerable suddenly.

He keeps you open to the cold air in the room while his warm fingers plunge deep inside you. Squelching so loudly you wanna hide of embarassment, but you're so close you think you'll go crazy.

"Oh god--" you breathe out as he picks up his pace, his stimulation on your clit and the spot inside you constant. You legs shake in his hold and your eyes start tearing up.

"Oh make me cum make me cum please? Please? Oh god please!" You mumble mindlessly, pleading him, requesting him, begging him to make you cum as he coos, his fingers never faltering. Your fingers clutch his hair desperately as you look into his eyes, begging, your eyebrows furrowed as he smiles almost mocking you.

Evil.

"Cum baby, cum whenever you want, make a mess, go on" he says, his breathe heaving in your ears. It's as if he had turned a switch inside you that made you arch your back in his hold. Your cunt squeezing around his fingers as your cum sprays all over his lap. He groans as he feels your walls pushing his fingers out, making him fill you up with his fingers again, making them squelch loudly.

He holds your hips chuckling darkly as you squirt all over his joggers, his fingers fucking you through your high but he needed more so he pulls his fingers out to rub your clit sloppily and you sob.

He pulls you in for a kiss, and you feel your teeth clash as you breathe hard against him. Your body vibrates and thrashing in his hold as he growls against your lips.

"Yeah, good girl," he groans against your lips as you gasp, twitching.

His tongue plunges inside your mouth, and you squeal against his lips, your lips not even moving as you just gasp. Your eyes roll back, your hand clutching onto his neck desperately as his fingers rub your folds, making sure you spill everything you have inside you.

"Thats it thats it, my perfect girl." He coos against your lips, you breathe heavily, tears flowing down your eyes.

You whine, holding his wrists out of oversensitivity, smiling, feeling light-headed.

He smiles looking at you and teases your clit, flicking his index against it. Your body twitches as he does so, just to laugh at how pathetically your body squirms in sensitivity.

"Tch-tch-tch" he mocks you, grinning as your head falls back, his hand cupping your pussy making your eyes roll back. He squeezes, massaging your folds to calm you down.

"You did so good, my baby." He kisses your forehead, caressing your hair. "You okay?" He asks, his voice calming and deep. You nod tiredly.

"Good," he kisses your cheek, "because you're gonna do that again, but on my dick this time," he says, kissing your cheek again, tenderly.

Well, fuck.

___________________________________________

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹🍒

bangchan x fem! reader

fluff

summary: you had a long day at work, dealing with cases and clients that it wore you down to the very last bit of energy you had left. you just wanted to go home and enjoy the company of your lovely boyfriend who usually stays home and works from his at home studio. just wanting to be in the comfort and love of bangchan

content: just cute fluff, comfort, hopeless romantic type shit. implied job (office worker, lawyer, social worker) shoutout lowkey to those who are or want to be that. but it can be literally anything you want it to be :3

a relatively short one, not proof-read (once again)

a/n:n ilovehimsomuch, mi mandilon (in a good way), been trying to keep writing and publishing but im just lazy. ill try to keep posting. maybe ill do a lil hispanic one for hispanic heritage month, viva la raza. ill probs go back to hiatus after this LMFAO

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the hours were going by slow at work. today you had a ton of caseloads to work on before the following week. clients you had to meet throughout the day. barely had any time to check your phone or even let alone have lunch. it was like this most times but for some reason today felt heavier and draining.

it was almost time to clock out, and all you wanted to do is go home, relax and be in the embrace of your boyfriend. his arms and warm hugs could really bring you to life.

you packed all your things, your computer and the cases you didnt finish, and your purse. turning off the office light and shutting the door. saying goodbyes to everyone and giving weak smiles.

you were grateful that the warm evening had a nice breeze as you walked back to your shared apartment, really needing that walk and serenity.

walking back to the apartment, you get to the 15th floor and head towards your door, looking down at the slightly dirty 'welcome' sign that you found on sale at TJ Maxx.

grabbing your keys and starting to jingle the door knob. you finally unlocked the door and opening the door you see the slightly dim lit living room and connected kitchen. smelling like fabuloso. you smile to yourself knowing that chan cleaned around the house.

you put your bags down on the couch, and take off your flats that you had on. looking around, instinctively going over to his studio room, softly knocking on it and waiting a minute before opening it and smiling as you see that chan was facing towards his laptop, headphones on

you quietly and softly tap his shoulder, not trying to scare him. he jumps a little and turns around his chair, smiling instantly at the sight of you

he takes his headphones, and grabs your hands, looking up at you

"hi beautiful" he says. you smile at the compliment knowing you dont feel or look after the day you just had.

"hi handsome" you gently caressed his rough hands. he softly pulls you in his lap, holding you as you sat sideways from him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. holding your hips and legs closer to him.

"how was work?" he asked, while touching and soothing your legs.

you let out a sign and pinch the bridge of your nose, getting a headache just by thinking of work. "work was okay"

he quirks an eyebrow, sensing by your reaction to his question, that work was indeed not okay. rubbing you smoothly

"it doesn't look like it was just okay, cmon tell me, what happened at work that is making my beautiful upset" you couldnt help but smile at his words, naturally giving in (even though you were going to tell him) and telling him how work really was.

"work was... a lot tougher today. i just- i dont know, the caseload today was heavier and my clients today were too much. it was draining me really fast today" you let out

he looks at you with caring eyes, letting you continue ranting. not looking at him but still talking to him about work as he admires how beautiful and natural you looked on his lap complaining about work.

"i love my job, i really do but today just wasn't my day i guess"

he holds your face and makes you look at him, gently caressing your cheek. "it happens.. i know you love your job, and i also know that not everyday is going to be a good day... but that also means that you can just make the next day even better" he smiles, looking deeply into your eyes

you couldnt help but feel a rush of emotions and love for him, holding his face and admiring all of his features. you say to him an a quiet tone. "you always know what to say to me, dont you"

he cheeses and shyly looks away for a second before looking back at you. "im just telling you the truth" he runs his hands now down to your neck, holding you, almost in a possessive away, a caring possessive way.

you cant help but slowly lean into him, just wanting to feel his lips on your own. he knows what you are doing and just closes the gap between you both, melting into his lips, holding him. you stay there kissing until you finally had to pull away, making a popping smack sound from your lips as you pulled away, he looks at you with doe eyes.

"i dont know what i would do without you Christopher"

he smiles, holding your hands

"no need to think of that sweetheart, because you have me now, and im not going anywhere"

you stay there for a second and smile, finally speaking up again

"well enough about me.. what did you do today?" you smile getting off his lap, heading towards the kitchen

he follows you to the kitchen, close behind.

"well i dont know if you noticed but i had time and cleaned the house" he says so proudly. you turn to look at him, mid opening the fridge. looking around the room

"oh wow baby, you really did clean" you laugh a little and sniff the air "and you used the supplies i told you to use?" you say in almost shocked amused tone.

"yeah i did, just like you said, i cleaned the kitchen, the bathroom, and our room. i did that in less then 2 hours actually"

still in awe at his hard work and dedication to making the home nice and clean. you close the fridge and go up to him and hug him

he's surprised by the hug but nonetheless hugs you tighter back.

hugging him harder, not realizing that this is what you needed. melting like butter in his big strong arms. he realizes the severity of the hug and caresses and soothes your backside.

"i love you so much"

he smiles and pulls you back to look at you.

"you have no idea how much i love you, being with you brings me so much peace, i am utterly in love with you" he smiles

you almost felt like crying. you never had a real, loving relationship like the one you have with Chris. being with him makes every little wrong thing, alright.

he notices the glossy look in your eyes.

he leans slightly down, and kisses you, once again melting into your lips, moving your lips in sync with his. cupping his face, your fingers going in between his ears; holding him in place. not wanting to leave this exact moment with him.

you guys eventually pull away and just take in the view of each other

"cmon let me make you something to eat" he says, going towards the cabinets

you smile and appreciate his willingness to do such a sweet but meaningful act of service.

tiredly smiles and go over towards the counter and sit on the stool. waiting to see what he prepares you.

just watching him, cook for you, propping yourself on your elbows, holding your face with your hands.

after what felt like hours, he finally turned to you and placed the bowl of hot chicken noodle soup in front of you. havent realized he actually did cook you something

"oh baby i thought you'd just make me a sandwich with chips" you slightly laughed

he chuckled and shook his head, "honey, dont you get tired of eating that?"

you slightly frowned, "no"

he couldnt help but smile at your childish frown.

"well today have something different, i made it from scratch" he smileed

you couldnt help but smile warmly, you were hungry and could eat almost anything.

"okay then" you said as you grabbed the spoon and immediately starting digging in.

he smiles at your hungry attitude. you look up at him.

"arent you going to eat?" you say,

he goes to sit next you, just watching you eat. "i'll eat in a bit, gotta make sure you eat first" he smiles

you couldnt help it, this had to be the perfect evening. even though its a normal tuesday night at 7:37 pm.

you spent the entire evening talking and making plans for the weekend, eventually chan got up to serve himself a bowl of soup.

you had to get up for seconds to join him. enjoying the nice evening together.

you were just so glad to be living in this exact moment with him....

masterpiece

aloneness | by design chapter one

pairing: chan x reader ; hyunjin x reader | wc: 16.2k | genre: adult romance, angst | warnings: childhood best friends to lovers ; heavy angst ; death and grieving ; complicated feelings ; failed relationships ; explicit sexual content. the chapter contains heavy themes that could be upsetting to some. if you're concerned it might be an issue for you, please read the unabridged list of warnings, which also contains nsfw warnings. reader discretion is advised. this work is for adult audiences since it contains mature themes and explicit sexual content.

It had been such a long while, it seemed, since Chris had truly loved you. And you loved him in a desperate way, like trying to hold onto a knife not by its handle, but by its blade.

To be intimate with love, the true kind, also means being intimate with loss.

You grew up in a small enough town that most faces you saw, every day, were familiar ones. The employees at the grocery store saw you become a teenager and later, an adult. You were greeted by your first name if you stepped into the post office. You had become acquainted with specific trees, the twists of certain roads, or the lines of the mountains on the horizon. By no means did that make your life dull, not by your standards anyway. The town’s name is Stormhaven—named so by its founders because of the violent storm that raged the first night they established camp on this land. As grand and frightening as the storm was, it was equally beautiful. Something about the geolocation of the city or perhaps the fact that it’s located where the river melts into the sea makes it prone to storms, and they are, indeed, reputed to be gorgeous.

You did leave momentarily though,  to pursue some major you had no great interest in, but it felt right to try and do something. You were the first of your family to go to college. You thought, foolishly perhaps, that you could teach English—you had always been one to read books and enjoy the intricacies of the language in them. To you, words were no different than pigment, sentences were the oil that made the paint, and books were the finished product, the saturated canvas. Now, here’s the thing—you liked English and you liked art, too, thanks to a book you found at the age of 9 on your uncle’s bookshelf. It was your first introduction to the Italian masters and their masterpieces, and you were a little too young to fully comprehend it, but that did not stop you from appreciating it. 

You were the first of your family to go to college. Your parents owned a small general store on the north side of the city, where there’s more forest than city. It’s perfectly situated though—directly on the one road that leads to the good fishing spots. 

The river is at its narrowest there, narrow enough that if one spoke out loud, they could be heard on the other side when people stood on the shore. There was another camping ground there, and cabins, and if the river was gentle enough, it wasn’t uncommon for people to go across it to make new acquaintances. 

You grew up there, in this place loved by locals and tourists alike. Your family was friends with the family that owned the camping ground down the hill, and it helped make business good for everybody involved. 

It also made your summers a lot less boring—you were an only child, with aloneness often forced on you. And it could have been awful if the owners of the camping ground didn’t have a son who happened to be the same age as you.

Chris was always ‘the good guy’, which, at times, rendered being his friend difficult. Because you had to live up to the standard. You had to deserve it somehow. Chris himself never made you feel this way, of course not, it was only fueled by your own compulsion to compare yourself to him at all times. Chris was a good kid, smart, funny, and nice, and he looked good. It made him very popular with the girls on the camping ground. You weren’t particularly popular with the boys. Or with the girls.

Aloneness forced on you. Defining you, almost. 

Except Chris made sure you were never left out. He always introduced you as his best friend and brought you along even though his fangirls clearly didn’t appreciate you being around. Either Chris was oblivious to it or he just didn’t care—in any case, you spent all of your summers with him, from sunrise to sunset and sometimes after. Chris attended the private school in the next town over, so you didn’t see him a whole lot during the year. Still, your family visited his once in a while for dinner, and you and Chris would hang out in the basement to watch movies and eat potato chips. Life had been easy, once.

It would be a lie to say that everything went smoothly all the time with him. When both of you reached an age where hormones are raging, things got a little complicated. Chris got in a fight—a physical fight—with his best friend during a party. It was just before tourist season. Your parents had gone for a couple weeks for a long overdue vacation—they trusted you and Mrs. Bahng with the store, knowing you could handle it, especially since it wasn’t very busy yet. Of course, you threw a party—a low-key one, just a few people. Some guys from Chris’ school also came along. 

By then, Chris was a handsome young man, charming without trying to be, with a dorkish laugh and a good heart. If somebody had asked you if you had a crush on him then, you would have said no, but you would have been lying to them and to yourself. 

The party quickly took a turn when some of Chris’ friends pulled out the liquor they’d brought. It made you nervous. This was your house after all, and if something happened, your parents would never trust you again. You tasted vodka for the first time that night. First in a red plastic cup, mixed with some cheap lemonade, and after that, on the lips of Chris’ friend when he pulled you to a quiet corner to make out with you. His name was Liam. You saw him once in a while when he spent the night at Chris’ place or something. He wasn’t as popular with girls as Chris was and you suspected he was jealous of him, but then, who wouldn’t be? 

However, Liam turned out to be a little too insistent, touching you in places, and whispering things to your ear. You made up some excuse and fled to your backyard where most people had come to enjoy a small bonfire. You sat with them but your mind was elsewhere, wondering if you ought to let Liam do to you whatever it was he wanted. After all, you weren’t popular, and nobody wanted to date you. Liam was the first guy who kissed you for more than three seconds and who touched you. There might not be one after, so perhaps you shouldn’t pass on that opportunity. 

He did join you by the fire. Liam. He sat not next to you but behind you, his legs locking you in his embrace. It wasn’t even the worst PDA taking place in the group as one of your friends was heavily making out with one of the boys while the others talked. You participated in the conversation, not unaware of the glances Chris shot you a little too often. Maybe, after all, it wouldn’t be a good idea to have sex with his friend. Maybe that made him upset, and you could understand that—he had never pursued any of your friends and had always made it very clear he wasn’t interested in them. You figured he expected the same of you.

But Liam kissed the back of your neck. And then he touched you again and again—your waist, your back, your thighs. He held you in his arms and it birthed a distracting tingling sensation between your legs that you couldn’t blame on the vodka. “Come with me upstairs,” he said into your ear. And you did. You went. 

He kissed you even more in your bedroom, his hands underneath your shirt, his mouth sloppy and wet, too wet. It all happened very fast—you were on your bed and then he was on top of you and he was very hard. It happened so fast, too fast for you to fully process it. It only lasted a few seconds—two thrusts, no more. In between the first and the second, it occurred to you that you hadn't used a condom. And then Liam whimpered pathetically and it was over.

It made you want to throw up, or maybe it was the vodka. Or, maybe, it was just the smell of him—sweat and cheap cigarettes and his musk, which was rather unpleasant in your nose. 

You slid from underneath him, visibly dazed, and it made him upset. Years later, you realized he was mostly upset at himself and ashamed of his premature... conclusion. Still, it was at you he lashed out, maybe for not looking like you had just gotten the dick of the century.

“Don’t be like that,” he told you, shoving his small, softening cock back into his pants.

His sour tone, paired with the soreness between your legs, brought tears to your eyes. It made him more upset even. "What's EVEN the problem anyway?" He raised his voice at you, and whenever someone did that, it always made you cry.

Unfortunately for him, Chris had made his way upstairs, suspecting something wasn’t quite right. He tried to open the door but it was locked. “Let me in.” His voice was unrecognizable, to the point that it frightened you almost. You still felt weird between your legs, sore and empty and full all at once. And above all, unclean. Dirty. You wanted nothing more than showering and washing Liam off you.

“Fucking let me in.”

Liam was very drunk. Instead of post-nut clarity, he had been hit by a strong dose of dopamine that rendered him even less coherent than he had been before. “What is it, Bang? You upset I jumped your virgin friend before you could?”

It occurred to you at that moment that you had never seen Chris angry before, except for fun like when he was playing video games. But something in his voice let you know that the situation was very serious. 

And then he smashed the door open using his shoulder. What happened next would always remain a bit blurry in your memory, but it never left either. Chris grabbed Liam by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall. And then they fought. It was nasty. Liam was taller and bigger than Chris, but he was also drunker—Chris, on the other hand, was quick and properly pissed off. Before you knew it, Liam was pinned to the ground under Chris’ weight, being punched repeatedly in the face. Years later, you would admit this to Christopher—that it felt good to see his fist sink into Liam’s face, to see his lip split open, to hear his whining. Still, you knew it was wrong. Something within you, that night, knew that Chris could seriously injure Liam if he didn’t stop, so you stopped him. 

You stopped Chris, too, when he threatened to reprise his attack as Liam was stirring up. You just wanted everyone gone so he made them leave. You heard more shouting from outside but paid it no mind and just went into the bathroom and turned the shower on.

You stood underneath the water, keeping it as hot as you could, scalding your skin, rubbing soap all over yourself as hard as you could using various tools—a washcloth didn’t really cut it, and neither did your loofah or even your nails. In the end, it was your exfoliating cloth that you used to cleanse your body, emptying your bottle of shower gel, steaming up the entire bathroom. But you washed and washed and washed and rinsed and rinsed and rinsed. You did so until you could no longer feel Liam between your legs, only your skin made sensitive from all the scrubbing. 

Chris was waiting for you, sitting on the floor in the hallway. You had wrapped a towel around your body but it was dark and you didn’t care. You could walk naked outside for all you cared. 

That night, Chris took your face in his bloody, shaking hands and asked you if you were okay. You felt strangely okay, like you should have been sobbing or afraid but you were neither of these things. He, on the other hand, didn’t look too good with bruises and cuts on his face and even more on his knuckles. “Your mom will kill you,” you pointed out. The Bahngs preached pacifism. They were some of the nicest people you had ever met.

That night, you put on some comfortable clothes and made Chris sit in the bathroom while you cleaned his wounds. He insisted he could do it and you knew he could but you wanted to. You needed to do something, something useful if at all possible, and he let you, apologizing the whole time for letting Liam come here, and for being his friend in the first place. “He wasn’t like that before,” he assured you.

People change. You didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to say.

That night, Chris tucked you in bed but you asked him to stay, so he stayed, holding you in his arms. 

You spent that summer working both at the general store and at the campground. You worked a lot and when it raised suspicions in your parents, you simply said you were saving up for college so they didn’t question it. Chris knew, however, that you just needed to keep your mind, and body, busy. So, when there was no work for you to do, he took you on hikes. Hours-long hikes where neither of you really spoke. You just walked side by side. The more summer advanced, the farther you went. 

You started talking again at one point, for no reason at all. It just happened. Chris told you about his upcoming school year and how he still wasn’t exactly sure what he should be doing with his life. That he felt bad he wanted to leave Stormhaven, that he knew his father expected him to take over the business. You felt the same way. You were scared of the future because you didn’t know what you were supposed to do with your life. When you mentioned it, Chris assured you he thought you’d be a great teacher. You returned the compliment, telling him he would be at home in business school, and that it didn’t mean he had to take over the camping ground. He could do something else. 

It’d be great if we went to the same college, he said, and you agreed. It would, indeed, be great. By now, Chris had become something to you that couldn’t quite be defined by words—a best friend? Yes, perhaps. But it was more than that. He took care of you in a way that was so beautiful and so deep, you knew you could never repay him, that you would always be in his debt.

You loved him. And maybe you knew he loved you, too. 

You worked a lot that summer, even picking up shifts at a gardening center in town, owned by one of your friends’ dad. You didn’t think your absolute need to remain busy had anything to do with Liam. You were over it in the sense that few girls get to experience a wonderful and romantic ‘first time’ and that it hadn’t lasted very long anyway. You were over it, too, because Chris was there for you. 

You were over it because both you and Liam were drunk and stupid and young. 

It wasn’t what troubled you really. The problem was that it felt good to be desired for once. You had wanted Liam to touch you, and you had been flattered to feel him through his pants when you sat between his legs. It had even aroused you. The problem was that you didn’t really want to fuck Liam but you let him do it even though you knew deep down that it was a stupid thing to do. Because it was still better than being unwanted, than having aloneness forced on you.

And you felt disgusting for thinking that way. 

You worked so much it made you ill—one day, when you were helping Mr. Bahng and Chris clean up a few campsites, you had a dizzy spell so intense you momentarily passed out, waking up a few seconds later, laying on your back on the soft soil. It was particularly hot that day, especially considering the summer was ending and you were returning to school the week after. Mr. Bahng made you drink water while Chris cooled you down, pouring water into his hands and pressing them on your neck and face. When you regained some color, he was instructed by his dad to take you home—not on foot, of course, on the company’s ATV. It was almost like a walk of shame when Chris dropped you at your place. You kept telling him you were fine but it didn’t exactly feel like it. You just didn’t want him to go out of his way for you. 

Your mother was home and she already knew everything because Christopher’s dad called her. She made you go to bed, saying she would make you a good meal with broth. But you couldn’t stomach the sandwich she made. Or the broth. 

There was a storm that night, quite strong. Chris stayed with you even though you asked him not to. He said he liked you even though he saw you throw up, and tried to make jokes about it. He made you laugh that night, and it was your most heartfelt laugh in a while. You weren’t scared when the power went out because he was there. 

By then, you knew that you loved him in a special way. It made you feel a lot of things when he held you in his arms or when he kissed the top of your head. 

You kept a small battery-powered light in your bathroom, especially for nights like these. You reached for it in the drawer it had always been, and instead of the light, your fingers wrapped themselves around something else, something innocuous, an everyday item. An unopened box of tampons. 

Your whole world collapsed around you, except it was you who fell to your knees, suddenly completely unable to carry your own weight. Your heart ran marathons in your chest and you froze. It was how Chris found you. He looked at you, then at the tampons, and at you again. 

Then he was on his knees too, wrapping his arms around you. The storm outside matched the one in your heart. You had never been as scared as this in your whole life. You didn’t even cry—you just sat in bed, all night, watching the lightning over the river, staring at the stormy sky, thinking, thinking, thinking. You went through every possible scenario you could think of, and in none of them did it make sense to remain pregnant. 

Chris, once again, was there the whole time, not leaving your side that night and taking responsibility for you the next morning. With his brand new driver’s license—not his learner’s—he took his dad’s car and drove both of you two towns away so you could purchase a pregnancy test. He was the one to go into a store and buy three of three different brands. “To make sure,” he told you. You did the first test and it came out positive. 

The second also. You didn’t need to do the third, so you discarded it. You did cry then, in the not-so-clean bathroom stall of a mall you weren’t familiar with. Just a few tears. What went through your mind was this—that just because you had been greedy, just because you wanted to feel desired for one night, you were going to destroy something beautiful.  

Chris was there for you. He held your hands while you made appointments. He drove you two hours away from home just to make sure nobody would know where you went, telling his parents he was taking you to some event you had never heard of. A two-day event, so it would require the trip to be an overnight one. They bought it. They didn’t even care that you would share a hotel room. Your parents trusted Chris. On the first day, you had a lot of tests done. On the morning of the second day, they proceeded to the abortion. It took about five minutes, then it was over. You stared at the ceiling as the doctor was ridding your body of the consequence of your impure greed. During those five minutes, you reflected on how selfish you were. 

Chris stayed with you while you rested at the clinic. You shared some juice with him. Sometimes the cramps hurt you so bad you couldn’t talk, but it only lasted a few seconds. He held your hand. When you were free to go, he drove you two back to the hotel and you took a nap after having a small dose of the painkillers they gave you. It was over but it had never truly begun, and it felt strange. You felt empty. While you were sleeping, Chris went to the nearest drug store and bought just about every type of maxi pad he found. You bled a lot, and it hurt a lot, too.

Chris ordered pizza but you weren’t hungry. You made yourself eat a few bites and showered in very hot water. That night, he tucked you into bed but you asked him to stay, which meant you wanted him by your side and not on the other bed. He looked at you like he was hoping you would say that.

Christopher kissed you on the lips. Just a kiss, lips on lips, almost chaste, and you knew then that you would marry him someday. He kissed you again on your forehead and you buried your face into his neck. 

“I never thought I wanted children before,” you admitted to him. “What if it was wrong to get the abortion?”

“There’s still time,” he promised you. There was a long silence after that, but he added, “You made the right decision for your future. We’ll have a baby someday, okay? You and I.”

You believed him. And you were happy that year, when you realized, finally, that you had let Liam do this to you because you wanted Chris to do it, and you did not think he could ever feel the same way. 

You weren’t accepted into the very renowned university Chris was going to, but your college was just an hour-long drive away so it wasn’t too bad. You saw each other as often as you could during the first semester, but things got complicated as time went on. He was more and more busy and you were less and less enthusiastic about your studies. It turned out, English and teaching English were two very different worlds, and you did not belong in the latter. You couldn’t believe you were being tested on some supposed ‘ways’ to teach certain things to students. There was no such thing for you—every person is different, so how could one even explain another’s learning process? 

You dropped out on your second semester, leaving in the middle of a particularly boring and arduous English Grammar class, heading directly to the parking lot where you had left your car. You drove all the way to Chris’ apartment, which he shared with two other students. He wasn’t home, but one of his roommates, Changbin, informed you he should be back soon and let you in. 

Chris was there for you. It made you feel inadequate. You were always somehow in need of him or of something, but him most often. You were constantly in his debt.

He soothed your tears and promised you that your parents wouldn’t hate you if you dropped out, but he suggested thinking about another major. “There’s still time,” he said. He often said that.

You got a job at a coffee shop and worked there the rest of the year while weighing your options. You visited a lot of places—parks, various attractions, art museums. The museums were your favorites—there was no museum in Stormhaven, obviously, so to have several options to choose from now was quite the upgrade. You spent countless hours wandering in galleries, observing, learning, feeding your soul, after which you went to the library and gathered some books related to whatever you had just seen. Chris joined you sometimes, but it was really just to be with you and you knew it. He didn’t hate art, it just wasn’t for him. It didn't reach his soul like it did yours. You went to concerts with him too, which he liked a lot more. 

He suggested you try applying into art history for next year, and of course you would love that. Only, you were the first of your family to go to college, and you knew that your very practical parents, aunts and uncles would find an art history major rather pointless. An absolute waste of time. Chris insisted though—he went as far as mentioning it during winter break when both of your families sat to share a generous Christmas dinner. As expected, the response was underwhelming.

But what are you gonna do after? There can’t be enough jobs. 

Can’t you read and learn all that stuff in books or on the internet? What’s the point?

Are you sure? Or are you going to drop out again because it turned out it wasn’t for you?

You couldn’t hold it against them. Your family. They weren’t even wrong. 

You took more shifts at the coffee shop, and in the summer you returned home to work at your parents’ general shop. Chris came to spend some time home too, and it was good to be back there together. He was doing great in business school and you were going nowhere though, so as days passed, your mood darkened. He didn’t let you close yourself off, making you tell him the things that were on your mind just to prove you wrong.

“What do you mean, not enough? I loved you before you went to university, so I’ll love you regardless. So don’t say that. I forbid you.”

You stopped saying it, you just didn’t stop thinking it.

The year after, you moved in with Chris and his two roommates. The plan was to find a place for you two but to be together in the meantime. You didn’t mind, really—Jisung and Changbin were good guys, and Jisung told you about a job opening at the bookstore he worked at. You liked this job a lot. You visited all the museums in this new city, too. 

For your birthday, Ji and Changbin even got you an art book. It was a long essay on one painting in particular, an oil painting titled Loss. The painting depicts a lone woman sitting on a wooden chair in a neutral-colored room, almost reminiscent of a Vermeer, but with bolder colors. The room appears empty except for the corner of a bed on the right, and a window on the wall near which the woman sits. She is looking at the ground, but others say she is looking at her hands which are intertwined, holding nothing. The true direction of her gaze is disputed, but her expression is intricate, complex, unreadable. Depending on the viewer’s mood, she sometimes looks simply pensive. Most of the time she appears deeply sorrowful, almost desperate. To some, she shows no emotion. Thing is—art historians cannot agree. Everyone is right. Everyone is wrong.

The true magic of the painting resides in the sunset filtering through the window—it illuminates the room intricately, the shadows created by it adding to the mystery around the woman's expression. The light is accurate in a way that makes it look so real, yet more beautiful than reality. Its painter produced less than fifteen paintings and is yet considered a pioneer solely based on Loss. 

One of the most fascinating things about Loss is that it is… lost. It was stolen in the 90s while it was transported to a museum in New York, where it was meant to be temporarily exposed for a special exhibition. Nobody knows who did it or where it went, or if it still exists even. 

The book mentioned this and so much more, like how the descendants of the painter had been the primary suspects in the case, based on the fact that they had requested a few times that the painting be given back to them. There had been lawful contracts signed though, yielding it to an art society, binding Loss to museum collections for yet another hundred years at least. Since it was an ongoing case, however, details couldn’t be made public. 

You had never seen it in person—and you never would, obviously—but Loss had become your favorite painting. You didn’t need to describe with words the emotions inhabiting her, the woman on it, you just knew you shared them. What you didn’t know, however, was that you would share them even more someday.

Seeing how interested in it you were, Chris took you on a trip for your two-year anniversary—a museum in Seoul was in possession of three paintings by the same artist and one in Japan had two. You visited both locations and he stayed with you as you stood before the canvases, all of them saturated with light. One of them was a lake, as still as a mirror, on which the sunrise reflected so beautifully you shed a few tears. 

At the very end of the trip, Chris took you on an evening walk around a vast park. That’s when he got on one knee and asked you to marry him. He did it in a way that was so proper, so cliché, that it made you laugh and cry at once. You said yes, of course you said yes. It made sense, didn’t it? Growing up together, growing closer. Falling in love and not even feeling it, just waking up one morning and realizing it’s always been there.

You and Chris made love all night in your hotel room, your bodies close and warm and beautiful. He fucked you hard, desperately, confessing how he had been in love with you since childhood. You had long conversations between rounds as you recovered. “Do you ever regret hurting Liam like that?” you asked him, your head resting on his stomach. Many years had gone by since the event, yet neither of you had forgotten it. 

Chris pulled you up so he could look into your eyes. “No,” he said. “I only regret not going after you earlier. I guess I was hurt that you wanted to be with him and not with me. In retrospect, it was stupid. I should have confessed my feelings as soon as I became aware of them. I should have followed you upstairs.”

You kissed him then, deeply, slowly, your heart feeling like it might burst. You found something rather poetic about all of it, and also fair. It was your hidden love that had pushed you in Liam’s arms, and Chris’ repressed feelings also had played their part. You wanted to forget that night and yet you could not, as though something deeply important had happened, important enough that it was still on your mind tonight, merely a few hours after your boyfriend proposed to you, as you climbed onto him to straddle him, never breaking the kiss, his cock growing hard under you, for you. 

It was as though that night had sealed something, putting both Chris and you on a path, and neither of you knew what the destination was. You didn’t mind going in blindly, not if he was by your side. He had always been by your side anyway, and you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

It felt easy. 

Too easy. 

The wedding took place the summer after Chris graduated. Half of the campground had been reserved for it. Friends and family alike came together to celebrate this union that apparently more than half the town had seen coming anyway. It was a beautiful wedding, underneath a blue sky and then the stars. The air smelled like the freshly grown leafage and the soft breeze carried the scent of the ocean, too. You danced and laughed all night, catching up with former high school friends, people you hadn’t seen in so long, introducing them to your and Chris’ new friends. Jisung’s speech was particularly popular—both very funny and moving, it was clear he had spent a lot of time writing it.

Some time between very late and early morning, you made your way with Chris to the small but cozy cabin you had rented for the occasion. Both of you sat in silence at the kitchen table in your wedding attire to drink some water and eat a few snacks. Chris glanced at you with a knowing smile, reaching for your hand over the table. You smiled at him, too. 

You showered together after slowly undressing each other, and you knew that you would never forget your wedding night. You sucked his cock in the shower and he gently played with your clit, kissing and nibbling at your neck, calling you sweet things. You started fucking on the bathroom counter then moved onto the bed where Chris ate your pussy until you came, and then he fucked you. And when he came, you kept fucking him until he got hard again. You would never forget this and you knew it. That night, you felt loved and desired. You knew it was much like a drug—those were feelings one gets easily addicted to. But you didn’t care. You felt more beautiful, more important then than you ever had. 

When both of you collapsed, spent, satiated, panting, Chris held you in his arms as he so often did, and yet you never grew tired of it. He kissed the top of your head. “Let’s stay here,” he told you.

“Good news then, we rented it for a week, you pointed out with a chuckle.

“No, I mean Stormhaven.” He shook his head. “We don’t have to if you’d rather go back to the city, but it feels at home here, with you.”

You felt the same. So you stayed.

You bought a house in the northern part of town, in the same neighborhood you two had been raised in. As the procedures took place, Chris and you also pondered over the careers you may or may not want. The city’s hardware store was for sale—you could take up a bigger loan and make it yours, you and him. Then Chris’ parents mentioned they were thinking about retiring, and now that their son was back in town, they would be more at peace to do so. 

So, instead, they gave the campground to both of you. That year, your parents decided to sell you the general store too, and for a very low price. They even sold their house and bought an RV with the objective of being on the road and seeing as many things as they could. 

Those years were good ones. Even though you feared things would slow down with Chris, they didn’t. Business was good, life was even better. One night, as you two were getting into bed, Chris watched you as you opened a new box of birth control pills. He took it out of your hands, looked at you, and asked, “Do you still want to have a baby with me someday?”

You thought about it for a few seconds. You had discussed this prior to the wedding, of course. The conclusion had been that you weren’t sure you could be a good mother, so you couldn’t be sure you wanted to be one. Chris understood, but couldn’t see how you would be a bad parent. He wanted kids, and this was something you knew before even dating him. 

Here’s one of the ugliest truths in life—sometimes, you want something. Other times, you want to want something. The two are very different concepts except the human mind, when driven by the heart, is completely unable to distinguish them. It is an excessively shameful thing to admit to it.

You didn’t know at the time. What you wanted and what you didn’t want. It sounded nice, idyllic even, the idea of it—raising a child with Chris, your high school sweetheart, in this house that you made your home in, in the town that saw both of you grow up. It felt right, like life coming full circle, except grander than before.

You didn’t know at the time. You only knew that you loved Christopher more than anything, and that if you were going to have a baby with somebody, it would be him. 

You didn’t take your birth control that night. 

A poet might say that one can only see light if there is darkness. And he would be right, but you would also tell him to fuck right off.

Your mother died when you were six months pregnant. A hidden heart condition. She died in her sleep—your father found her in the morning when he woke up. It traumatized him. 

One day many months prior to that, you found out you couldn’t stomach onions anymore. In fact, the scent of them gave you nausea. It was then that you realized you hadn’t had a proper period in a while. When you mentioned it to Chris, he took your hand and guided you toward the car. “Do you want to buy the test here or in Blue Harbor, like the good old times?” His smile was playful, but a little nervous. Truth be told, if you were indeed pregnant, you didn’t want anyone to know yet, so you made your way to Blue Harbor’s mall, just like you had years ago.

The mall had changed a little but you found a drug store, and Chris insisted he would go get the tests. But you needed other items so you went in anyway. 

You saw Liam as you were shopping for shampoo. He was wearing the store’s uniform. It looked like he was a manager of some sort, by the way he was talking to the girl behind the cash register. You froze, your breath and heartbeat coming to a halt. For some reason, you remembered him with a bloody face. He looked very normal that day. A little thicker than he used to be, just like the rest of you. 

He saw you, too, and color drained from his face. He seemed stuck between wanting to go see you and running away. 

You waited for the pain to hit. You waited for tears, even—you had cried so much after the abortion that you assumed you were scarred for life. But you felt nothing, which almost frightened you. You ought to feel something, right?

You took one step toward the cash register, then another. It wasn’t to go speak to Liam. It was to be there when Chris would go and pay for his purchases. 

Liam saw Chris and actually recoiled. Chris stopped in his tracks, speechless, getting visibly pissed off. But you didn’t want him to be angry. You didn’t want a scene to take place. You wanted the memory of Liam to have as little weight as possible in your life.

You took a deep breath. “Let’s hurry,” you said to Chris. “I’m getting tired.” It wasn’t even true.

Chris blinked, staring at you for a few seconds before putting three pregnancy tests on the counter. You added some toothpaste and shampoo, pretending Liam wasn’t there while the other employee rang your items. 

You made sure to flash your wedding ring and took Chris’ hand in yours. It felt good to make sure Liam saw it. So he would know you carried no parts of him with you. So he would know he didn’t really matter, not in your life, and not in Chris’. 

You spoke very little on the way home. You kept your gaze on the horizon, processing everything. You knew the tests would come out positive. You could feel it within you, this life that was growing. It had a weight to it, light for now, but still very much there. You just knew it. 

You peed on a stick. Then another, and both were positive. You discarded the third test, and Chris cried with you. Before that day, you thought you knew what unconditional love was, but you had been wrong. This—this beautiful burden, this miracle inside you, that was as unconditional as anything could be. 

The shock of losing your mother was so great that it sent you to the hospital, and you were scared to lose your baby, too. Your little girl, who you loved so much already, who already meant the world to you. Chris and you hadn’t been able to find a good enough name yet but that wasn’t important. She was healthy, the doctors assured you of it—it was you who was in distress, and you needed to get a grip before it affected your unborn child. 

None of it was easy. The funeral, then the burial. Supporting your father through it was the worst, though.

But Chris was there for you. He always was. 

He was the perfect husband, the perfect friend, and he would be the perfect father. You could feel it in your bones. There was no way in hell you deserved him and yet he remained by your side. He moved his home office to the basement and painted the upstairs room in pretty shades of green, applying a leaf-patterned wallpaper on one of the walls, turning the room into the loveliest of nurseries. Jisung and Changbin came to help with it, and having them in the house helped you a lot. Your father was there too. The house was too full but sometimes it’s how things have to be. Or else, aloneness would be forced upon you. 

You woke up in the middle of one night with your whole lower body feeling like it was being split in two—it was then that you realized you were just about to give birth. You panicked and yet Chris remained calm. He grabbed the bag he had packed for you and he drove you to the hospital, talking you through the few contractions that overtook you, not blinking an eye at your nails digging into his skin as you held onto him. When it got a little worse, he realized that none of what he was saying helped, so he made you talk. 

He asked you about art. 

You hadn’t been in a museum in entirely too long, but you kept your books and the memories of all of it in your heart. Chris asked if you picked up an interest in a particular art movement these days. He asked you if you had discovered a piece of art that you especially liked recently. You told him that while you hadn’t discovered anything, you had read an interesting article about Artemisia Gentileschi’s most iconic work—Judith Slaying Holofernes. Explaining to Chris the analysis of the art historian you had read helped you get through the worst of the contractions so far.

It also led both of you to agree that your baby’s name would be Judith. 

As you got into Blue Harbor, it felt, a little, like a fire was catching inside you and like it was trying to exit between your legs. 

You begged Chris to drive faster, but it was winter and he didn’t want to risk anything on the slippery road. 

So he asked you to talk to him about your favorite painting. 

Loss. 

Few things were known about this painting. It had been painted in Italy by a man who came from Asia to study Venetian art, but also visited France, the Netherlands, England, and more. He brought with him his wife—the woman in the painting, or so the stories said. They had a son, and soon after, a daughter. 

The daughter became ill, and she died. 

Maybe it was fate, or something much darker, but it was as you remembered the woman’s sorrowful gaze that you realized something was wrong. Chris assured you it was just the contractions but you knew it wasn’t. You could feel it in your bones.

You could feel it creep in, approaching, lurking—aloneness. 

They proceeded to an emergency C-section but it wasn’t enough to save Judith. She had been dead inside you already, they said. They said it wasn’t your fault. 

Forced upon you. Aloneness. 

Loss.

You never really get over it. Loss.

Some voids cannot be filled, they are meant to remain wastelands, barren, contaminated. 

Judith was that to you. And to Christopher. 

You’d swear he fell out of love for you the moment he saw his daughter’s tiny lifeless body being pulled from inside you. For the first time in your whole entire life, he couldn’t be there for you. You couldn’t even be there for him either. It was the beginning of the end, only, you didn’t want to let go.

You had dreams, terrible ones. In some, Judith was alive and well, in which case it made waking up the most difficult thing. In other nightmares, though, you were giving birth to her and she wasn’t much more than blood and flesh pouring from between your legs, yet you loved her nonetheless. 

One night, you dreamt that Liam came into the general store while you worked and stabbed your pregnant belly.

You went to therapy—separately, then together. It did nothing. Some voids cannot be filled. You both made efforts to appear happy, maybe in the hopes of faking it until you made it. Chris took you on dates, and you took him on dates. You hired a handful of employees for the store and the campground so that you’d have more time, but in the end, that also did nothing. All it did was give you more time to be sad at home instead of being sad at work.

Chris had it worse than you, or maybe he just couldn’t hide it as well as you. He ate very little and slept even less. He went on long hikes and usually came back after dusk smelling like sweat and like the forest. You’d ask where he went, if he had a good hike. He’d give you responses but nothing else. 

One day he didn’t come home at all, and his phone went straight to voicemail. You tried to rationalize it, to remind yourself that most trails didn’t have great coverage anyway, and that he knew his way around the forest. You didn’t sleep that night. You couldn’t sleep. When you heard the front door at four in the morning, you flipped your pillow so that he wouldn’t be able to feel how damp it was. You wiped the tears off your cheeks and buried your face under the covers. Chris didn’t stop by the bedroom—just a minute later, he was in the shower.

You missed him. And it felt wrong to miss someone whose scent permeated the bedsheets you lay on. You were losing him, too, and you knew it because aloneness was drowning you even when he was standing right next to you.

That night, you joined Chris in the bathroom. You sat on the counter, observing him. Condensation was gradually covering the glass of the shower but you saw him in a different light—skinnier, with bruises here and there, acquired on his long hikes, no doubt. He saw you but he didn’t acknowledge you.

There were thoughts weighing you down, and you knew that speaking them out loud wouldn’t help, but you had to anyway.

“Chris, I think it would be easier for you if you admitted to yourself, and maybe even to me, that you hate me.”

He turned to you then, water rolling down his shoulders. “I don’t hate you. I’m just sad. My baby is dead. Can’t I be sad?”

“You can be sad, of course.”  You stood, making your way toward the shower, sliding the door open. You would never not be moved by him, his naked body. You felt a tumble in your belly. “But you also resent me.” 

He had the grace not to deny it this time. He averted his gaze. “I don’t want to. I know it’s not your fault. I’m sick in the head.” 

You thought it must feel somewhat the same to be stabbed in the chest. Not even in the heart, no—immediate death would be merciful compared to this. Instead, Chris had pushed a serrated blade just two inches away from the organ, sparing you, hurting you more. 

“Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe it is.” Some truths are meant to remain unspoken, but you loved Chris enough to believe he deserved to know it anyway. “I wasn’t sure at first. That I wanted a baby. Up until the moment I saw the little + sign on the first pregnancy test, I wasn't really sure I wanted to be a mother. I just wanted to be with you.” You gulped, swallowing your tears. “All these years, I felt like I should have kept that first baby. I don’t know why, it just felt like it. Mind you, I didn’t feel that before the abortion, only sometime after. Almost like I knew it would come back and haunt me somehow. Well, it did. Life punished me.”

Chris took a step toward you, cupping your face in his warm, damp hand. Water rolled down your neck and onto the t-shirt you slept in. “That’s not how it works. You didn’t manifest Judith into a stillborn.” He lowered his face close to yours, kissing you, kissing you like he meant it. 

He pulled you into the shower, kissing you deeper, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I love you,” Chris said, pulling your shirt off you. And you knew he did. But he also resented you. The two weren’t mutually exclusive. 

He pinned you to the wall and kissed you, guiding himself at your entrance. You felt him grow hard inside your cunt as he fucked his despair into you. “Fuck me like you hate me,” you begged him. “I deserve it.” 

He pulled away at that, only to wrap your legs around his waist, picking you up. He carried you to your bed, leaving a trail of soapy water behind. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, burying himself inside you again. 

He fucked you hard, harder than he ever had, holding you by your throat or sometimes by a fist in your hair. He fucked you from behind, then flipped you over to look into your eyes as he pounded into your soaked pussy. You hadn’t known a life without Christopher and without his love and his comfort. You wondered how you would keep existing without it. You wondered if you would be able to live without managing to pay off your debt to him. Even as he spilled himself into you, filling you with his sorrow, you wondered how you would cope. 

Even with Chris toppling over you, his weight on your body, his cock softening in your cunt, you felt alone.

Jisung turned to the rest of the room. “Does anyone want more cake?” 

A few hands shot upright, accompanied by enthusiastic statements. The ghost of a smile appeared on your lips as Jisung began his distribution of dessert. This was how you liked your house best—when it was crowded with people you loved. On other days, it felt empty, bleak, too quiet. 

Next to you, Chris shifted his weight on his seat, glancing at you. You stared back at your husband as he forced a smile on his lips. 

You leaned toward him, a frown on your brow. “Are you tired?”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, almost out of habit, and pulled you closer. “I’m just drunk,” he whispered into your ear, eliciting a faint chuckle from you. “Are you tired?”

You were tired, but then you had been tired for years, it felt like. You simply shook your head, knowing it was good for Chris to see people—you didn’t want him to put an end to the festivities on your behalf. Besides, they were celebrating your birthday, so you would feel bad to throw people out.

You watched as Jisung went around the room with the cheesecake leftovers. Chris kept his arm around your shoulders and you let it comfort you a little, even though he didn’t really mean it. It was muscle memory. 

Those who didn’t grab cheesecake were now pouring more wine into their glasses—you handed yours to Arina—Jisung’s fiancée—and she filled it again, and Chris’ too. 

“I heard on the radio that they forecast a particularly sunny summer,” Felix said, speaking to you and Chris specifically, although most guests were also paying attention. “I reckon business will be good for you guys this year.”

“I hope so,” Chris responded, squeezing your shoulder as a public testimony that he still gave somewhat of a shit about you. Maybe this was why you liked your house best when your friends were here—because your husband had to pretend he still loved you when people were around. “We’re thinking of hiring a couple more people, actually.”

“That’s awesome!” Felix flashed a bright smile at you. “I’ll have to try and make time to come visit. It’s been so long since I actually walked around the campground.” 

You knew he meant well, and you knew Felix wasn’t even lying—he had been friends with Chris in high school and he knew the area well despite having moved away a while ago. You knew that at this moment, Felix genuinely wanted to come again later, during the peak of summer season, to see the area at its most beautiful and lively, but you also knew he wouldn’t. Because that’s just how life was. Difficult. He would be busy somehow. And when he wouldn’t be busy, he would want to relax. Or go on a date. Or watch a movie. And you didn’t hold it against him. It had been at least a year since you went over to his place anyway.

“Man, you really should!” Chris nodded, raising his glass at Felix. We expanded a little, to accommodate for trout season. It was too crowded last year.” 

You were about to comment how it was a good problem to have, only you saw at the other end of the table Changbin and his girlfriend, Naomi, exchange a long, quiet stare, then turning to Arina and looking at her wine glass, which was still full. 

Something stirred within you. You knew what was about to happen, and you knew it was probably within your power to stop it. Only, you lacked the strength to do so, and words eluded you anyway. Or will, perhaps.

“Say, Ari,” Naomi told her friend with a mischievous smile on her face. She spoke at low volume, not trying to overpower the main conversation, in which Chris was telling Felix about the sudden and unexpected rise in trout population in the area. “I don’t think I saw you take a single sip of that wine.”

You knew for sure then, by the way color drained from Arina’s face before she turned crimson in half a second, and from the way Jisung almost dropped the cake as he went to put it back on the countertop. 

You couldn’t tell what hurt most—the way Arina’s gaze looked for you but how she dared not look you in the eyes in your own home, or the fact that she was pregnant at all.

Naomi reached over her boyfriend to give Arina the gentlest nudge. “Girl!” 

Changbin took Naomi’s hand in his, pulling it under the table quickly, pushing his own plate of cheesecake in front of her. “Want some? I don’t think I can eat all of it after all.” 

Not saying it was worse. Jisung stared at Arina, then at Changbin, avoiding your eyes at all costs. Meanwhile, the discussion between Chris and Felix was coming to an end as they realized that something was happening around the table. 

You couldn’t hold it against Naomi—she was the latest addition to your friend group, after all, and she didn’t know. Or didn’t know a lot about it all anyway. And even if she did know... You still couldn’t hold it against her. There was no reason for the rest of the world to remain stuck in the past the way you and Chris were. There was no reason for the rest of the world not to be happy at such a joyful prospect. 

Chris let his arm fall back, freeing your shoulders. You felt very alone then.

You knew it had to be you. It had to be you who said something or else the situation would get even more embarrassing and awkward. There had been many moments like this in the past few years, so you knew your way around them by now, no matter how unpleasant. It had to be you. It always had to be you.

“Ari, is it true then?” The thing with sorrow is it often turns people into excellent liars. You didn’t like this about you, but you could be very convincing when you had to be. You looked very happy when you needed to. “Is it really true?”

A timid smile reappeared on your friend’s lips. After a quick glance at Jisung, she nodded gently. “Yes, it’s true.”

As the table erupted in congratulations and a full-on interrogation—How long have you known? How far along are you? Oh my god can it really be true?—you plastered a smile on your face and remained in your seat. There was something else about lying—you had to learn not to overdo it. Proper dosage was essential to how believable you were. You couldn’t jump in place and clap and sing because your friend was pregnant, then people would look at you weird. They would know you’re faking it. They might even deduce that you have been faking it for a long time.

The ghost of Chris on the chair next to you disappeared when he pulled away, as expected. You recognized your own rehearsed smile on his face. 

“I really didn’t want…” Arina began, then stopped mid-sentence as she was searching for her words. Or rather, as she was thinking of the least hurtful way to remind you that your baby had died inside you. “We really didn’t want to crash the party with the news. We wanted to wait.” This, she said to you. 

“It’s alright,” you lied. It was not alright. You hadn’t had a happy birthday in a long time but this one had just turned into a genuine nightmare, as you felt yourself fall into a pit of darkness. Or rather like you were becoming one. “I’m very, very happy for you.”

“It’s such great news,” Chris chimed in. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do, yeah?”

But of course, they wouldn’t want you to come near their beloved child, and you understood that. Because you were cursed. 

The news indeed put an end to the party, which you knew was justified by people feeling awkward. Or maybe they just didn’t want to see the color of your grief. Arina was the last to leave—she stood with you in the doorway while Jisung and the other guys were chatting by their cars. She spared you from another apology but she held you in her arms. “It’ll be your turn soon,” she assured. People said those things sometimes, and it was to alleviate their guilt.

Chris joined you in the kitchen as you were putting empty cups in a trash bag. He grabbed some plates and began rinsing them in the sink.

You knew you had to say something. You knew it had to be you, no matter how unpleasant. 

“The cake was really good,” you commented. 

“Right?” Chris put a little too much enthusiasm into his response. “Mrs. Allen makes the best cakes.” Mrs. Allen owned the only bakery in this part of the city, and everybody feared the day she would decide to retire. Most of her income came from locals purchasing her goods for special occasions or simply because they craved something sweet.

“She does,” you agreed. “Thank you for the birthday party, and for my gift.” He had offered you a hydroponic garden system, something you had mentioned being interested in but weren’t quite sure it would fit in your kitchen. 

“No problem.” He spoke at low volume, now loading the dishwasher. It seemed, for a few instants, as though he was about to say something meaningful. But he finished clearing the countertops. “How about I run you a bath?” 

You accepted his offer, half hoping for something that couldn’t be true, which was that he would join you. Except he wouldn’t and you were well aware of that fact. Most nights, he pretended to fall asleep on the couch so he wouldn’t join you in the bed.

Last week, he saw the notification on your phone. According to your calendar, your peak fertility window begins now and will end in twenty-four hours. You still kept the fertility app. Maybe out of habit, but certainly not out of hope—Christopher had never truly said he wanted another child. Maybe it didn’t really matter either. You hadn’t gone back on birth control and there had been absolutely no pregnancy scares. Not that you had been particularly active… Except that now, you were certain Chris wouldn’t touch you for a long time. Because last week, after seeing the notification, Chris kissed you like he hadn’t kissed you in a while. He lay you in bed and undressed you and touched you and you touched him, too. But he couldn’t make love to you. He tried.

He really tried. Until tears were staining his cheeks. You took him in your mouth. You got on top, hoping he would grow hard inside you. But he didn’t. He apologized profusely but he didn’t need to. You had learned to discern the hints life left behind. Some things were meant to be and some weren’t. 

How unfair though. How unfair was it that you and Chris weren’t actually meant to be if you loved him this much? If you had loved him all of your life?

He did run you a bath, with all of your favorite things in it—jasmine oil, candles all around, piano music playing from a small speaker. It didn’t stop you from hearing him locking himself in what had been the nursery. In what still was the nursery—absolutely nothing had changed. Not one thing had been moved. The door just remained closed. Always. 

Could you have been wrong all this time? What if it wasn’t Chris who was meant for you, but aloneness? What if the withering of your heart was your own fault? After all, Judith had been inside you when her heart stopped beating. It had nothing to do with Chris, or with anybody else. Still, it was all he saw in you—the place in which his daughter died.

He was right. It was all that you were. A coffin, a graveyard, a tomb. All at once. And it was all that you would ever be, for as long as you would live.

A crackling sound coming from the walkie-talkie on the counter made you jump. You inhaled sharply, looking away from the laptop screen to offer an apologetic smile to the two clients who were checking into the campground. 

You weren’t supposed to be here today—usually, on Fridays, you operated the general shop, and Chris the campground. Mostly because even though they were now under the same business, you were both more used to those specific establishments, having been raised into them. Only, it was the campground’s big summer opening and Chris was overseeing the event. There would be a concert tonight, by a local band who played covers, and games and other activities were offered during the day. 

Since food was involved, it was less likely for people to stop by the general shop tonight—so you left it in your most trusted employee’s hands, knowing Jeongin would be more than able to handle himself there. He was probably going to sell sunscreen and hats all day—it was stunningly sunny. 

You grabbed the walkie-talkie, walking a few footsteps away to listen carefully. It was Jeongin’s voice that came in.

“Boss,” he said, and you still didn’t know who he was talking to because he called both Chris and you like that. “There’s someone here asking if we sell paint, and I’ve just been looking everywhere and…” 

A faint click followed Jeongin’s question, indicating that Chris had joined the conversation. “Paint?” he repeated. He could barely be heard over the music playing over there. “Paint?” 

You returned to the clients who had finished filling out their security forms while the other two chatted over the radio. You handed them their keycards to unlock the gate and various other spots on the site. You didn’t need to go too in-depth with them—it was the third summer they came here. “Thank you for choosing us again,” you told them with a smile. “If you have issues or an emergency, do call the number at the bottom of the map and someone will come to you.” 

The couple—a man and a woman in their 70s—thanked you warmly and returned to their RV outside. They had rented a space for two weeks. They reminded you a little of your parents. Had they looked this happy when they were on their trips? 

The debate over the walkie-talkie distracted you before you could tear up, even though you missed your mother terribly. 

“Not spray paint, boss,” Jeongin insisted. “Like, just paint.” You heard a voice speaking inaudibly behind him, and then the young man added, “Not wall paint or spray paint. Paint for art. Watercolor?” He said the last word as though he was only repeating it while being wildly unsure about it. 

Everything clicked into place then as you finally understood what they wanted. You grabbed your radio and joined the discussion again. “I didn’t have enough time to stock up the kids’ section,” you explained. It was a mistake on your part, caused by your sleep troubles as of late. After all, it wasn’t uncommon at all for parents to grab a few toys for their children before entering the campground. “Most of the stuff is still in boxes in the back store. I know where it is, I can guide you.”

Jeongin’s line cut abruptly—he had let go of his Talk button. “Jeongin?” Chris asked.

He came back almost immediately. “He says no, boss. He’s asking if we sell real watercolor, not children's stuff.” 

You suppressed a laugh and heard your husband do the same. While nobody in the area understood the importance of art more than you, you couldn’t help but find it humorous that someone would stop at a very rustic-looking general store on the side of the road of a small city to ask for legitimate art supplies. 

You looked at the beautiful landscape out the window—the river, the shore, and behind it all, the mountains. As pretty as a painting. 

“Please apologize on our behalf,” you told Jeongin. “We don’t carry art supplies of the sort. Offer them a discount on their purchase.” 

“Thanks, boss.” And Jeongin tuned out for good, leaving you and Chris alone on the line.

You let a few seconds pass. “How are things over there?” you asked, either to make conversation or because you desperately wanted your husband to speak to you. About anything. Anything at all.

“Pretty good actually. They’re loving the lemonade.” You two had made many batches of it early this morning. Quietly. In your kitchen. Squeezing lemons and then weighing sugar and making raspberry syrup, for the pink lemonade. Alone. “How are you holding up in there?” 

“It’s fine. Every time I’m here, it reminds me of those mornings my mom would have your mom babysit me, and she’d drag me here and put me to work.” The Park Office had been renovated since then, but it smelled the same as it used to. Like cedar and pine, with faint salt undertones. “Should we start carrying art supplies?”

“Man, I don’t know.” Chris laughed and he sounded like he meant it. It made a burst of light appear in your chest, even if it was only temporarily. “Oh, I gotta go. We need ice.”

“Let me know if I can do anything.” But Chris was already gone. 

Your life had reached a point where you doubted that any ice was actually needed. You imagined Chris just wanted to find a good enough reason not to speak to you, just you. He fared well enough—and so did you—in the presence of others, as though they motivated him to pretend better. The first night he didn’t come back home, you thought he was cheating on you. In the end, the sound of his shower woke you up at six in the morning. When you asked him where he’d been, he said he worked on some repairs at the camping ground.

It happened more and more often. Then some of his clothes disappeared from inside his drawers. It happened over weeks, so it gave you time to prepare. To form some sort of shell to brace yourself from the impact of it. By then, he rarely slept in your bed anymore, preferring the guest room or the living room. But when he did, you barely recognized your husband. It did not feel like him, that person under the sheets. 

During your sleepless nights, you pondered over it a lot. You were well aware that Chris hadn’t brought up divorce because it would feel like a failure for him. Like he had failed this marriage and you. You knew there was also the whole issue of the Riverside Campground and Riverside General Store, now become one. The legal problems that would surface during the divorce would be awful, and you knew it. Neither of you had felt the need to get a prenup or anything of the sort. 

Honest to god, you had thought you would be with Chris for the rest of your life. And maybe he had felt the same, and it was why he was so reluctant to leave you. 

Sometimes, you wanted to tell him that it was okay. If he was seeing another woman. He wasn’t going to keep fucking you, was he? Not when you were a graveyard. You couldn’t force him to love you either. He had stopped loving you a long time ago—it just took him a while to come to the realization. You wanted to hate him. To resent him. But all that you could do about Chris was love him, no matter how broken, how misaligned that love had become.

There was this unspoken agreement that at work and around your friends, you made it look like everything was okay. You hadn’t told a soul about your marital problems and you assumed Chris probably hadn’t either. 

Every day you woke up with the clear intention to sit down with Chris and to talk. To make him say that this—all of this—made no fucking sense. That you had to get a divorce, no matter how cumbersome it would be. Nothing could be worse than this anyway. 

And as the coward that you were, every day, you found ways to avoid that conversation. 

A car coming down the road caught your attention, pulling you out of your deep thoughts. The darkness lingered within you, but you appreciated every occasion to be distracted from it. Even work.

The car—a black Jeep Patriot that looked like a rental—stopped at the designated parking space for check-ins. Noticing that, you made sure that none of the tears that had tickled your eyes had messed with your mascara. Unfortunately, it was a little smudged in one place, but you managed to mostly fix it just in time to welcome the customer.

A man that you supposed was in his mid-20s  entered the park office looking a little confused yet resolute. He had hiking attire—dark green cargo pants, a generic t-shirt, and a lightweight jacket. Holding his phone and often looking at it, he made his way to the counter slowly. 

“Hello,” you said before he had even reached you, prompting him to look up. He was, by all standards, pretty, with feline-like eyes and gentle traits. “Will you be checking in with us today, sir?” 

He responded to your smile with a polite one. “Yes. I made the reservation a while ago. Under Lee, Minho.” 

You typed his name into the laptop, quickly pulling up his reservation file. You raised your eyebrows as you looked at it—it was the first time you saw it really, Chris was the one who took care of this stuff usually.

“I have it here,” you told him, double-checking to make sure you had read everything right. “You made an extended stay reservation for two adults in one of our RVs?” 

The campground welcomed RVs on one side and tents on the other, also offering to rent either installation for those who needed them. Renting a fully equipped, luxury RV was by far the most expensive booking option you sold, and he had requested it until the end of the season. From the first day to the very last. 

“Yes, that’s me.” His smile became a little more comfortable, and a little warmer, too. “You seem surprised.”

“Oh, I’m just not used to it—usually, it’s the cabins on the other side of the rivers that get this sort of clientele.” 

You took the credit card—black—that he handed you without you having to ask. You actually had nothing against Pineview Cabins. People who wanted a cabin wanted a cabin, and those who wanted something else came to you. Besides, the owners were a mother and her son, and they were lovely.

“Cabins are for tourists,” Lee Minho said jokingly.

You finished entering his information in the system and gave the card back, finding it a bit easier to smile in his laid-back presence. No matter how long you had spent enduring it, you had never been very good at aloneness. 

“There is a form we require guests to fill—for security purposes,” you explained to him, sliding on the counter the form in question, secured on a clipboard. You shot a glance behind him, looking at his car through the front window, where you could see that there was someone in the passenger seat. “Both of you will have to fill one,” you added, pulling out a second clipboard. “I can go and hand this one to them while you fill yours if you’d like.”

The man shook his head, the corner of his lips curving up. “Nah. Let me call him. He can sulk about paint sometime later.” 

It clicked into place then—this man, and whoever was in his car, had been the ones who, just moments ago, were at the general shop asking for watercolors. 

“It was you!” You bit your lip. “I’m really sorry we couldn’t accommodate you better. I’ll—”

Minho, who had just finished typing a text on his phone, put the device back in his pocket and grabbed one of the pens to start filling out his form. “No need to apologize. I don’t know why he expected to find some legit watercolors here.” 

“Ah, artists.” You spoke in a tone that was clearly sarcastic but not offensive. 

“This one is something, for sure.”

As if on cue, the front door was opened by the man beckoned by Minho through a text and a little voice inside your head said, Yes, this one is something indeed. He was tall, holding himself straight with a perfect posture and yet in a totally nonchalant manner. Still, he was graceful. You saw it in the way he pulled the door open, in the way he took off his fancy designer sunglasses to put them on his head, in the way he adjusted his half ponytail right after. 

If Minho was dressed as though he was heading out for a three-day hike, this one, the artist, was the complete opposite. A loose white graphic tee hung on his broad shoulders. With it, he wore oversized jeans, and he even had another shirt tied around his waist, as though he had expected the weather to be cooler. A multitude of jewelry pieces adorned his body—a few silver necklaces around his dainty neck, many bracelets on his wrists, and rings, too. The ensemble screamed intentional chaos.

The more seconds passed, the closer he was to you and the counter, and you were utterly unable to take your eyes off him. Not just because he had just entered the room and it was a normal thing to look at someone who approached to check-in. But because you had never seen anybody like him before.

He was beautiful, and there was no other way to put it. His face was seemingly perfect—his big, dark eyes were scanning his surroundings as though to evaluate the potential dangers. The rounded tip of his nose complemented his cheekbones well. 

He had a pretty mouth—his lips were obscenely plush. Rosy red. Enticing. With a velvety quality to them. Skin like honey-coated satin. Hair like silk soaked in black ink. 

He was the kind of person who just oozed charisma. Effortlessly. The kind of person whose presence changes the whole vibe of the room. The kind of person everybody notices without them trying. Often, without them wishing for it at all. 

There was a point where you realized you should say something—he was just a few steps away now, close enough that Minho had turned to him. Close enough that you could smell him—he carried with him a strong yet not heavy scent reminiscent of amber and roses with woodsy and musky undertones. You took a deep breath but it wasn’t even to brace yourself to be in his presence. It was to inhale more and more of this alluring smell. It took everything in your power not to immediately ask him what his cologne was. 

“There you are. Here.” It was Minho who spoke first in the end, sliding the second clipboard and another pen toward his friend. Or brother. Or cousin.

Or boyfriend, maybe. 

You had to say something. “Hello.” Simple. Ordinary. A skeleton key of greetings. 

He briefly looked away from the clipboard to acknowledge your presence. “Hi.” 

He didn’t seem thrilled about having been called in here and you felt bad about it for some reason, even though you had been asking guests to fill out a security form for years now. 

“Sorry about this. It’s for security purposes,” you explained. 

“It’s no problem at all,” Minho assured. He was already halfway through his form. 

You gave him a quick nod. “And sorry about the watercolors, too,” you added.

At this, the handsome man reacted a bit more. He straightened up from the counter to face you. It felt, a little, like the air had been kicked out of your lungs. Being face to face, so close to him, felt like falling from a high place. 

He spoke to you softly, almost timidly, like he wasn’t sure he ought to speak at all. “The airline lost my art supplies bag and sent it to the wrong destination. I just wanted to have something while they manage to send it to me.” His voice was pleasant. Smokey and warm, it had a strangely comforting tone.

You barely understood the words he said, not because it was a difficult concept to comprehend, but because of the intonation in which he spoke as well as his pronunciation. It was so unique it demanded your whole attention. As if the placement of his lips at any given time, and the movements of his tongue as he spoke, came together as an orchestra that played an elegant symphony. 

“We actually put in the address of the campground,” Minho interrupted as if he had just remembered that detail. “I hope it’s okay? They should be sending the bag here sometime next week.”

“Or the week after,” the artist sighed, rolling his eyes before returning to his form. His handwriting was small and neat. 

“It’s not a problem at all.” It occurred to you then that you had things to get done to check them in, so you returned to your laptop to get to work. “We’ll let you know as soon as it gets here.” You bit your lip, torn over your curiosity and your pulse quickening so fast it frightened you. “Do you exclusively paint in aquarelle?” 

You reported your attention to your screen as soon as you asked the question, regretting it immediately. Like sending a risky text. Warmth spread at the back of your neck, reaching your cheeks and even your ears. Get a fucking grip.

He was handsome, yes. He was the kind of beautiful that nobody could ignore, yes. To blush a little when he looked into your eyes was one thing. But to be entranced by this stranger like this, to have your heart threatening to jump out of your chest, for your breathing to turn shallow in his presence… That was something else. 

At first, you blamed your many sleepless nights—you had a lot of accumulated fatigue, so it would be normal not to be in your right mind. Then you blamed your lingering heartache. The sorrow you carried with you anywhere you went. The wedding ring on your finger that felt like it weighed a ton while meaning so little anymore.

Then shame crept up from somewhere deep within you, tugging at your heart.

No matter how painful the state of your marriage was, you remained married. And there was nothing wrong with finding somebody else attractive, of course, but this felt different. It felt like you ought to take several steps back and internalize that no matter how hot and interesting this guy was, it wasn’t even for you to take notice of it. He painted. So what? He was insanely hot. So what? He wasn’t the first handsome dude you met during your marital life. He smelled good. Okay? He had pretty lips, but who cares?

GET A FUCKING GRIP!

You figured it was your brain trying to save you. You had known for a long time that your marriage was over and that nothing could save it. It had been such a long while, it seemed, since Chris had truly loved you. And you loved him in a desperate way, like trying to hold onto a knife not by its handle, but by its blade.

Your thought process only took about two seconds, but they felt like two very long seconds. In the end, none of this mattered—even if Chris divorced you, and even if this young god had any interest in you, which was impossible, you would still not do anything about it. If you hadn’t even been able to trust in your life-long conviction that you would grow old with Chris, then you were certainly not going to open your heart to anybody else. Ever. 

The man stared at you like he was thinking about his response before saying it. Minho was done with his form and handed it back to you. 

“He does a lot of things,” he said in the artist’s place. “I bought a painting from him. That’s how we met. It’s watercolor and oil, right?” He turned to the handsome man, who nodded.

“Yes, and encaustic paint,” he added, his voice suddenly a little smaller. “It’s made of—”

“Yes, wax. Hot wax.” You cut him off before he could finish his sentence, feeling a little bad that he felt compelled to explain everything, considering how he looked like he didn’t want to talk to you at all. He was most likely an introvert. It used to be difficult for you, too, to talk to strangers. But you became used to it through this place over the years. Or maybe in a desperate attempt not to be alone.

He stared at you with his eyebrows raised just slightly. “Do you paint, too?”

You couldn’t help a nervous laugh from escaping your lips. “God, no. I wish though. I just… appreciate.”

“Then I’ll have to show you his stuff. Brilliant.” Minho gave his companion a not-so-gentle slap on the back. 

“I’d love to,” you replied, taking the signed form from the artist. “We’ve actually been looking into buying a piece for the main lodge, where we hold some events, activities, shows, stuff like that. We did a few renovations last year, and there’s a wall that’s just so empty and bland. Maybe we—”

Two things happened at once then.

Out of habit—and because you had to as it was literally your job—you let your gaze trail down the form you were now holding. You also realized that you were overdoing it with the conversation, talking a little too quickly just to make up for the fact that you were a nervous wreck. The guy had checked in using a black card. There was about no chance for you to be able to afford anything this young god painted, right?

Then your brain processed the words it was reading.

Full name: Hwang, Hyunjin

Hwang, like Hwang Naro, the painter behind Loss, the artwork that had been fascinating you for years. And he just happened to be a painter, too. For some reason. Loss dated back to the 1850s after all, so there was no correlation to be made. Hwang Naro. Hwang Hyunjin.

Immediately, you reminded yourself that many people shared a last name in Korea after all, so it was only a minor coincidence. Painting was a common hobby, wasn’t it?

“Uh, is there a problem, Miss?” Hyunjin inquired, leaning in closer to also look at his form to double-check.

It wouldn’t have felt any different if you had been kicked in the solar plexus. His scent invaded your nostrils and then your lungs, and it was so violent that you had to hold onto the counter. When he looked up again, you noticed more details on his face. The mole under his eyes. The faint lines on his lips. The other mole on his jaw. The shape of his eyes, perfect, intricate, elegant. Their shade deep enough that you could drown in them. 

You remembered the book Jisung and Changbin had given you for your birthday once, the essay about the painting. One of the chapters contained various interviews and letters from people who had known Naro—he signed his paintings without his family name. One of the interviews had been conducted in the late 1880s, by an author who would later publish it in a journal in the early 1900s. He had spoken to Cornelia, a maid who had worked for the Hwangs during her youth while the family resided in Leiden, a small city in South Holland.

Everybody in town knew that Mr. Naro was handsome and kind. He liked to visit the botanical gardens to practice his colors and florals, and some visitors went there to watch him, too. He would sometimes carry with him small pieces of canvas and hand out sketches to children. Mr. Naro was fond of children, and he loved his only son very much, more than I have ever seen a father love anything before. The women envied his wife and the men envied him, for he was a proper gentleman and loved by all. He and his family lived modestly despite the money he made selling his paintings and giving art courses. 

He summoned me to the courtyard of the house one afternoon. He was painting the sky, which was blue and beautiful. Mr. Naro told me he freed me from my employment. When I panicked, he said, “Fret not, Cornelia, it has nothing to do with your abilities. I am most content having you under my roof.” Mr. Naro looked me in the eyes and said I should take some time to visit places and fall in love, either with the world or with a man, or a woman even. He assured me I would be welcome to return after my trip if I wished, and that if he happened to be gone by then, he would ensure the University hired me. 

He gave me money, more than I had ever seen in my life, and a bag for my travels. I refused yet he insisted, no matter how immense the gift, disproportionate to what I thought I deserved. He said my heart’s color was Alizarin Crimson, with a just drop of Naples Yellow and another of Ultramarine, all of those softened in Flemish White. As he spoke, he mixed the colors on his palette, right in front of my eyes. The final result was a gorgeous pink that reminded me of the carnations that used to grow in my grandmother’s garden. He used that pink to paint a stunning bird in the sky, shading it with black and blue, defining the feathers also with white. He gave me the painting and said, “This is your heart. Do you want to keep it caged up here?” 

I heard he had similar interactions with other maids and even students. I traveled to France where I met my husband and became a dancer. I never forgot Mr. Naro. I never forgot Mr. Naro’s eyes, so dark they were more black than brown, yet soft, gentle, and sad. I wanted to be a painter so I could accurately blend paints to recreate that color, just to see it one more time.

The painting, titled Cornelia’s Colors, was now at home at Musée d’Orsay, and you had been lucky enough to see it with your own two eyes a few years ago, during a short European trip with Christopher. It had been given to the museum by the maid-turned-dancer’s descendants. 

But it was not the intricacies of the painting that were on your mind at that moment, not even the expert blending of the colors on it. It was the shade of Hyunjin’s eyes. So dark they were more black than brown, yet soft, gentle, and sad. 

You shook your head faintly, as though chasing away the thoughts invading it.

“Did I miss something?” Hyunjin asked again, glancing at his sheet. 

“N—No, it’s all good.” And yet, by the way they were looking at you, you were very much aware that your reaction must have been noticed. For a split second, you wondered what would be weirder—if you mentioned something or if you just moved on. “It’s just, your name,” you said before you could even really think about it. “You have the same family name as the artist who painted my favorite painting. And you paint too. So I thought it was just a nice coincidence.” 

Something in Hyunjin’s already somber eyes shifted, worsening the darkness in them. His body language changed in a matter of seconds as he stood straight up again, keeping his shoulders straight. He removed the sunglasses from the top of his head, ready to put them on his nose again. 

Minho stared at him, and then at you again. “It’s not really a coincidence, is it?” he told Hyunjin.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes so faintly you almost didn’t catch it. He took a deep breath, the exhale ending with a sigh—in the dictionary, under Bored, a picture of him at that very moment could serve as a definition for the word. You felt so bad you wanted to hide under the counter like you used to when you were little. 

“Guess not,” Hyunjin said with a shrug. “He’s my great-great-grandfather.” 

Too many seconds passed before you reacted—before the information even made it to your brain. 

You were standing in the presence of Hwang Naro’s direct descendant. You were breathing the same air as him, you were looking upon his divinely sculpted face. You were hearing his voice, coated with amber and honey. 

“Oh my god,” was all you managed, whispering under your breath, a frown digging itself between your brows. “I’m so sorry, I—”

Hyunjin waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not important.” 

Not important. Except his great-great-grandfather had been the artist behind the painting that you had always favored. The painting that had turned out to be prophetic, for you at least. 

“What are the odds though?” Minho, contrary to Hyunjin or you, seemed very enthusiastic about all of this. “I knew it was a good idea to drag you here, Hwang.”

By the look on Hyunjin’s face, you could tell he felt very differently. It triggered your brain back into place though, as you became excessively self-conscious. Of yourself. Of your reaction. You could understand why your mind latched onto any good or interesting thing it saw, because your life had become bleak and empty. Yet it was stupid to care about any of that. To this man, the painting meant nothing, and it didn’t appear that his ancestry mattered much more either. He was clearly annoyed with you anyway. 

With trembling hands, you reached for the keycard printer, collecting the two cards you had just printed. You slid them into their protective sleeves, which were attached to lanyards with the campground’s name on them. 

“Here,” you managed, also trying your best to smile. “These will give you access to everything you need—the entry gate, your RV, the laundromat, and the showers. If you lose them, just call this number here.” With that, you handed them maps of the campground, as you did with any new guest. “We’re here. Your site is right there with the other RVs.” You showed them with your index finger, but you felt your insides disintegrating into nothingness. “Just get past the gate and follow Pinecone Lane, you can’t miss it. You have a parking space at your site.”

“This place is huge,” Hyunjin commented—not to you, but to Minho. 

“Bigger than I imagined,” Minho conceded, but he was speaking to you. 

You nodded. “Yes. This is the tent camping site,” you explained. “Here is the main lodge, with the pool. This is the RV site. There’s walkable beach land all around this part too, and you can rent a boat or kayaks here.” 

“Jesus Christ, that’ll be the best summer of my fucking life,” Minho said with a sigh. “I need this vacation. I’m here to fish, I got a permit for it.”

You couldn’t shake the feeling that Minho had picked up on your unease and was trying to distract you from it. It did manage to slow your heartbeat a little. 

“Ah, fishing!” This prompted the smile on your lips to become more genuine. “Of course. Lots of fishing to be done around the estuary. I love striped bass, I haven’t had any in too long.” 

Your father used to love fishing and he would often take you with him. He would cook the bass on a fire with ingredients he gathered in the forest. Those were some of your most precious memories. You’d usually fall asleep by the fire and wake up at the back of the car as he was driving you home. These days, your father’s arthritis was preventing him from enjoying his fishing trips, so he just stopped going. And every year, you told yourself you ought to go fish by yourself, catch a bass, and cook it for him. You never found the time. Or the courage. Or the courage to find the time.

“I’ll make sure to save some for you if I catch any,” Minho promised. 

“Please don’t. Really.” You pressed your lips together, wondering what to say next. Hyunjin’s sunglasses returned before his eyes and they grabbed their card and map. “I hope you have a wonderful stay. Don’t hesitate to call or visit here, the main lodge, or the general store if you need anything.”

“Except paint,” Minho remarked with a clearly sarcastic and humorous tone, sending both you and Hyunjin into a hysterical fit of laughter. 

You laughed so hard you had to lean against the wall behind you with a hand over your mouth while Hyunjin clapped and called Minho a fucking dumbass. You hadn’t laughed this much in a long time. In fact, you couldn’t remember at all when the last time was. You wiped the tears at the corner of your eyes, waving at the two men as they walked out. Minho exited first, and Hyunjin lingered in the door frame, hesitating.

He turned to you. You couldn’t read his expression, not with the sunglasses, but his posture was more relaxed than it had been. “Just curious,” he started. “What is it? Your favorite painting?” 

Your laugh came to a halt the same way a delicate crystal glass would shatter into pieces if someone closed their fist around it. 

“It’s Loss.” You wanted to say more, but your voice remained stuck in your throat. And what would you have said anyway?

He stared at you for a few seconds and nodded slowly before leaving. 

There were still tears on your cheeks, but they no longer tasted like laughter—instead, they had the bitter yet familiar taste of aloneness.

... to be continued.

Note: I feel like I say the same thing over and over—but thank you. I could say it a million times and it wouldn't be enough. Thank you to my readers who not only put up with me, but encourage me as well and motivate me to keep trying to improve and to find my voice.

This story was, once again, extracted from the depths of my heart. It is with the utmost humility that I present it to you—when I started writing it, I did so with the intention, specifically, of not releasing it to the public. It's too personal, I told myself. And then I realized that every story I released contain other parts of my soul, and that this one was no different.

So, here it is. The ramblings of a woman who feels like she graduated at the school of Alone and earned a PhD in Loneliness.

Thank you for your support, and for your love. You guys are the best readers. You know this, right? Love y'all.

Welcome to Stormhaven 🤍

** please note that I will soon be restarting my permanent taglist from scratch as I only wish to keep active readers on them in an effort to put my time in the right places, considering the effort and love i put into what i release. by active readers i mean readers who interact at least a little with my content. i do not expect you to read every single thing i put out or to comment all the time. it's really just that there are many fully inactive/silent readers on the list! if you wish to stay on the list or be added to it, please reach out to me. ask is ideal because I can then tag your ask & return to it, but you can DM me as well! thank you for your understanding. **

taglist:

@abiaswreck ; @accalus ; @aimeexx ; @anylady-fics ; @b4kuho3 ;

@binstitsweat ; @cb97percent ; @chans1aptop ; @chartrucewhore ; @hanjingin ;

@hwan-g ; @hyuneyeon ; @hyunfruits ; @hyunjinswifeee ; @hyunniethepooh

@hyuwunjinie ; @hyyuniverse ; @iam2out ; @imseungminsgf ; @k1ra4a

@leedunno ; @lotus-dly ; @miraworldsstuff ; @mmoonriseflowerr ; @naoristerling

@neosracha ; @palindrome969 ; @shywolfcherryblossom ; @skzfelixlove ; @starseekersworld

@straydhampir ; @suhomylife ; @sunlitwilderness ; @ven-fic-recs ; @yourmercibeaucoupsblog

type shit 🤤

LOVELY HUSBAND : CHAN

⸻ synopsis: husband bang chan x f!reader ; genre: fluff, smut (nsfw under cut), headcanons, breeding kink. wc : 0.6k

BANG CHAN . . . is the type of husband to never let you do anything on your own even if it’s something as simple as opening jar. he just sees it as a gesture to show that he loves and cares about you.

BANG CHAN . . . is the type of husband to cancel all his plans, take a day off work, and even spend his entire day taking care of you after finding out you got sick. trust me he wouldn’t be leaving side for even a second except if its for water or food.

BANG CHAN . . . is the type of husband to need i mean absolutely need! to spoil you. he doesn’t a fat load of cash for no reason, you will be getting anything you’ve ever dreamed of. he hates whenever you decide to spend your own money. he thinks its like your throwing him away.

BANG CHAN . . . is the type of husband to accidentally get mad or yell at you and then immediately start apologizing. you know you’re not the reason, sometimes after a stressful day his patience is at a all time low. you forgave him of course but he can’t forgive himself.

BANG CHAN . . . is the type of husband to notice you gain interest in a new restaurant but they aren’t any near you guys so he takes time out of his day to look for recipes and ingredients to cook it for you at home. he loves to see your reaction to his cooking, makes him wanna do it more.

BANG CHAN . . . is the type of husband to notice whenever you were social battery decrease in public, holding you close to him and limiting your conversation with others.

BANG CHAN . . . is the type of husband to always compliment you no matter what. just woke up? beautiful. sweaty after a hot day? gorgeous. you never go a day without 10 different compliments.

BANG CHAN . . . is the type of husband to go all out for movie night. rather than sitting in theaters with a ton of loud random people, you both rather just be alone with each other. he grabs a bunch of pillows and comforters and gets the popcorn ready to watch as much movies as you want or he can possibly take.

BANG CHAN . . . is the type of husband to always be soft with you during sex unless specified. if you want him to go hard he won’t be easy in you.

BANG CHAN . . . is the type of husband to want to cockwarm whenever he’s busy but you’re needy. it would always 9 times out of 10 end up with you guys fucking

BANG CHAN . . . is the type of husband to love the thrill of creampies. he knows you won’t get pregnant because you’re on birth control, but him seeing his cum oozing out of you makes him go crazy

BANG CHAN . . . is the type of husband to make sure you come every time you guys have sex. he could come last or even never, sex for him is never done until you come.

BANG CHAN . . . is the type of husband to explore kinks with you. if you ever wanted to try being dominant he’d be down. it’ll first be mentioned by him as a joke but you had other ideas in mind.

BANG CHAN . . . is the type of husband to take his time while going down on you. you’re 5 orgasms in and hes showing no signs of slowing down. you’d have physical push him off or else he’s not ending soon.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

stray kids x reader

bangchan! and hyunjin! edition (separate)

Content Tags: smut! cheating! toxicity! piv! riding! slight mommy usage! dom bangchan! sub hyunjin! creampie! squirting! jealous reader and jealous chan and jin! non established relationship! fwb type shit!

word count: 2.5k

NOT PROOF-READ (just lazy)

a/n: this is probably ooc since im not educated on skz fandom so please don't execute me for any inaccuracy. Also creating this bc we saw them at lollapalooza and started brainstorming after leaving the festival LMAO (they were all so fine)

Inspired by: (my favorite) song B.A.S by Megan Thee Stallion..

☆ dedicated to my best friend @lilmeowneow ☆

Bangchan

Ever since you’ve been sleeping around with chan and found out that you werent the only one who also has been fucking him; you wanted to be sad about it but you knew better… way better. So if he can sleep around with other girls, you can too and sleep with the other guys in your DMs. They were all great really, made sure to let them who really was in charge, but deep down you loved the way chan fucked you senseless everytime. He was the only one you would obey to when he told you to turn around and take it. The way he would make you feel, it  was like no other guy has made you feel before, the way he would be gripping your thighs as he pounded into you tight, wet, cunt.

But you had to keep the charade going.

One night you were in your apartment waiting for a guy that slide into your DMs for a quick fuck, he was cute and tall, might as well. You were getting ready and preparing the drinks into your room when you got a phone call, you looked at the caller ID and it was no other than chan, you chuckled debating to answer. But the guy was about to arrive soon. Fuck it

“Hello?” “ hey girl” “hi chan what brings this phone call?” “well nothing really wanted to know how you were doing and was wondering if you were free tonight?” you smiled, you knew what that meant, but you had to stay strong. “Ooh yeahh, no i'm actually busy at the moment-” 

At the exact time the doorbell rang, “what do you mean?” you walked towards the door and opened it to see him holding flowers, you smiled and let him in. “thank you so much for the flowers r/n!” you said into the phone to make sure you heard. 

On the other line he grew suspicious and was taken aback to have heard a male on the other side of the line. “Y/n? Do you have company over? Hello??” Y/n?” “If you want, just start heading towards my room and we can get started.” You saw him walk into your room and as he walked in you turned around and resumed the phone call.

“ so yeah chan i can really hang tonight im a bit busy” you slyly said. “Who are you with right now?” “nun” “nun who?” “nunya” you heard him groan on the other side of the phone. “Okay bye chan!” “no wait y/n-” you ended the call and blocked him.

“She fucking blocked me..” 

Days have passed and you were lying around your apartment watching tv, just letting time pass by and watching the sunset go down. Looking at the beautiful ombre of red and orange colors filling your living room. Then you heard the doorbell ring. It caught you by surprise because you weren't expecting anyone today. You get up and peek through the peephole and see no other than chan waiting for the door to open. You giggle and open the door, he looks up and scans you up and down,salivating at the way you look in your “i don't care” outfit. Booty shorts and a big t-shirt that was cut from the top that slips down your shoulders. 

“What a surprise to see you around here” you told him. “Yeah well i was just passing by and wanted to come and see you” “oh yeah? You wanted to see me?” “yeah of course” you let him in, not breaking eye contact with him. You eyed him up and down, wearing his black jeans and his leather jacket, seeing he was wearing his white wife beater. Feeling the wetness pool in your cunt. You look away to close and lock the door and once you turned back you felt a full body pressure on your lips, pushing you up against the wall. Kissing you harshly, gripping on your ass, “jump” chan says in between your lips.

He kisses you so passionately and roughly, he goes down your neck and sucks on your sensitive skin, he stops and looks at you for a second. “ I see he left his mark on you” you gave him a blank stare, “so?” still holding you, with his hands underneath your ass. “Can't believe you had another guy over” “oh yeah? Well i know you be fucking other bitches when you aint with me” he looks at you surprised that you knew that. You laughed in his face,  “well I was just saying!, i dont give a fuck who you have over, but you have no need to lie to me, might as well tell me” “seems like you” “no i dont, he’s definitely not hotter than me so i could care less”

 you rolled your eyes and grabbed his face and continued to kiss him, falling back down to the ground, you led him into your room and pushed him on the bed. He looked at you in lust, just waiting to be able to tear your tight pussy up. You take your shirt off, revealing that you weren't wearing a bra underneath. “Fuck baby” you push off his jacket as well and his beater. You were getting desperate, you needed him. It's been weeks since you had chan in you, the other guys couldn't compare to what chan made you feel. You took your shorts and your panties off and helped him get his off as well. 

You pushed him down the bed, ready to center you cunt on his big, thick, cock. “Ughh just sit on it already” chan said as he pulled you down. You let out a loud whiny moan as you were stretched open. You wasted no time in bouncing on him, you grabbed onto his strong shoulders and bounced. You and chan were a moaning mess, your tits bouncing at the rhythm of his pace. You looked at him, smiling with your lustful eyes, he looked up and smiled at you and chuckled. “What's so funny?” you asked and at that moment he flipped both of you over and now he was on top. 

He caught you by surprise, but you werent gonna deny his dominance. You could let him dominate you whenever and wherever he pleased. He grabbed onto your leg and threw it over his shoulder and leaned in. making him go deeper into you. “Fuck.. just like that daddy, m’need you so bad” “atta girl.. You.. take .. me .. s’so good” 

he grunted going feral at the nickname you just called him. “Y-yeah? Daddy? When it comes from you it sounds better ""oh? Others called you daddy too?” you panted out and rolled your eyes. You tried to be mad but the way he was having his way with your sensitive wet cunt, you couldn't bear to start an argument. Hearing the pornographic noises of both your slicks being pumped in and out of you, and the sound of his balls hitting onto your ass. He leaned forward pushing your leg so far up, hitting you in that one spot that did it for you.

You soon start to feel that tightening feeling in the pit of your stomach starting to fuel up. You were about to cum. “F-fuck chan, im gon’ cum” he grunted and deeply moaned “s-shit hold on baby, just hold it, i’ll tell you when” chan kept pounding into you so relentlessly. Gripping onto your thighs so tight, leaving bruises on them, you couldn't hold it in anymore, the pressure building up was getting too strong, too strong for you.

 “please! c-chan i can't-""one..more..second” tears started to form as you were fighting the urge from coming, you crossed your other leg behind his ass, pushing him slightly closer to you as if he wasn't close enough. “Y’yeah baby, you are such a good girl for me, no other guy can.. Fuck you like this.. You’re mine.. Only mine” you were looking away trying your hardest to keep in your orgasm that was so desperate to come out. Chan noticed and grabbed your face to make you look at him. “Hey look at me when im talking to you, no one..can fuck you this good like me, do you hear me?” “ y-yes! Yes daddy! You make me feel so good.. Only you!” “good..now cum for me pretty girl” the second he gave permission, you let out your loudest orgasm yet. The same time Chan came and pulled out to shoot it on your cunt. 

Mixing both your messes, he then shoved it back in with his dick. Making you whiny-moan. He stayed like that, inside of you. Both of you are trying to catch each other's breaths, sweaty and hot. You hold onto him as you look up at your ceiling seeing white. You both stayed like that until he pulled out of you slowly, watching both your cum spilling out of you. “Only for me” he said in triumph. You let out a laugh and looked up at him. He was confused by you laughing. 

You start to get up and get back into your clothes that were spread around your room, “nah christopher, i got some other guy taking me out for lobster and pasta later tonight” you walk past him, and he grabs onto your arm to make sure to get a good look at you. “What do you mean you got someone taking you out tonight?” 

He almost looks hurt that after a night of passion, you are going to spend the other half of the night with some random guy. “Yeah well I've been hanging out with him some time already and I enjoy spending time with him, plus he takes me out on dates and buys my clothes” you told him nonchalantly. He looked exasperated, how could you!

“Yeah well I can too!” “oh yeah?” “yeah!” “Then why don't you do it?”

guess we both aint shit

Hyunjin

“You like that dont you?” you panted out. A moaning mess you were as you were on top of hyunjin. He was sprawled out on your king size bed. He was handcuffed to the bed frame, he wasn't allowed to touch you while you rode him. You were punishing him

You had found out that he was having sex with the sweet girl that lived next door to you. She was sweet and all but you hated her. No need to give an explanation why. He doesn't know why he’s being punished, you do though.

“Ple-please y/nnn” he whined. God you loved the whiny noises he made underneath you, you yourself tried not to cum by the sounds he was making, begging to release. 

“C’mon jinnie, think why would mommy want to punish you this bad?” you said condescendingly. He looked away trying not to cum by your dominant persona.

You grab his face, squeezing his cheeks, holding him steady making sure he was looking at you. “No no no, i didn't say look away, did I?” he shook his head no, tugging on the handcuffs trying to break free, he just wanted to touch you hot, sweaty, skin. Grab on to your beautiful squishy thighs. 

“N-no! I have n-no i-idea why!” he was practically crying at this point. 

You stop your motion, making him open his eyes in a whiny confused look. “W-why did you stop?” “You seriously don't know why I'm punishing you?” still confused, he had no idea.

“ I saw you go to my annoying neighbor's house the other night. You got out of her apartment REALLY late; care to explain what you’ve been doing in her apartment for that long?”

He froze… he knew what he did. He had sex with her. Why? Because he knew that you hated her. You knew everything she did annoyed you. If you could do anything in your power to abolish her, you would. He knew what would have happened if you found out he’s been having sex with r/n. He wanted to push you.

In reality he was doing this to get back at you for sleeping around with guys that weren't him. He hated that you were spread open for guys that weren't him. He saw you hope out that guy’s black Challenger, pulling your skirt down. He knew, what other way to get back at you? Sleep with your annoying neighbor you hated with your dear life. 

Still panting, “why do you hate her so much? She’s so sweet and she bakes cookies”

you guys weren't together but you were together, and you hoped nobody catched onto you guys

you groaned in annoyance, began to bounce on his dick. He moaned at the sudden friction, he was literally on the verge of cumming. “Oh yeah? You wanna know why I hate her sooo much?” you were panting at the rhythm of you bouncing on hyunjin’s big cock. “Because ever since you’ve been coming around, she has been trying so hard to get into your pants, shes not sweet, she's evil, and she knows that.” 

you were angry, bouncing so aggressively on his dick, he couldn't keep up anymore, you’ve been teasing the shit out of his cock for almost two hours, he can't do this anymore. 

“you’re mine!”

“y-y/n im gonna cum!” he whined-moaned. You were so into the anger you built that you didn't hear his pleas. “Fuck! Y/N! Please please!” he was being so loud you were pretty sure your neighbor heard. “Yes! Yes! Just like that please!” 

You finally realized he was about to cum, you made sure he got louder for your neighbor to hear. 

“Yeah baby? You wanna cum? Get loud for me then, don't hold back baby” you demanded.

This set of hyunjin off, he let out the most stomach-twisting, pussy-gripping, toe-curling,yummiest orgasm yet. You kept riding him until you were getting close to yours. “p-please n-no more!’ m’too much, c-cant” “yes im not done yet baby”

You were so close to your climax, just a bit more. You bend back putting your hands on his knees, holding onto something as you fucked yourself on his dick. Mouth gaping open, eyes rolled back, moaning mess, you were fucking yourself to him reaching for your high. 

‘Mmh yes!, so so close baby” “fuck! m-me too!” 

You leaned back forward to kiss him and moan into his mouth, you let go and cried-moaned out loud, cumming all over his cock and the sheets, squirting all over. He came as well just by seeing the mess you made on him, his cum filling you up to the brim once again. You rode your high, falling down onto him panting, feeling light-headed.

You both stayed quiet, trying to catch your guy’s breath. Once you finally relaxed you slowly slid out of him, both of you moaning and the loss of warmth. You plop down next to him, “hope this teaches you to not go fucking around with that girl” you said to him. “Oh yeah? Well i guess if you werent fucking that guy in his car, i wouldnt have” he spat back. You leaned up and gave him a shocked look. “H-how did you know that?” “i saw you y/n”

oh 

“guess we both aint shit”

The next day, you walked out of your apartment and ran into your neighbor, she gave you a scared and awkward look, avoiding eye-contact. You smiled at her

“I know you couldn't make him feel that way the way i make him feel, you wished you were me, you wish your camera rolled looked like an onlyfans of him”

“Fuck you”

“He already does and it feels great”

type of shi I been on 😮‍💨😮‍💨

not ashamed to admit that I would let season one evan buckley in his little manwhore era do whatever he wanted to me without hesitation

type shit 🔥🔥🔥

im-

★🌀✮💤☆

Stan m. x y/n

dedicated to my super best friend, took me long enough @lilmeowneow☆ (ma fault slime)

summary: you and Stan were each others first, you guys were meant for each other everyone knew that but it just wouldn't go that way, no matter how much pain you both suffered. you both knew it was time.

content: ANGST, cheating, implied sex, arguing, flashbacks

AGED UP

word count: 1.2k

lazily proof-read, i tried not to suck on this one.

inspired by: I Want You by Mitski

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐

“Right person, wrong time”

Y/N

“Where did it all go wrong?”

We were so perfect. Everything about him was perfect. Spending time with him was like a never ending dream, where did it go wrong. I paced around our shared apartment, reminiscing on all the moments we shared.

 Laying next to each other as our warm, sticky skin conjoined together, our heavy breathing started to go back to normal, but our heartbeats … our heartbeats were moving rapidly. Having him in my arms like this, like no one else has had him, just me, only me. He looked me into my eyes and saw me, from that day I knew that this was the person i wanted to spend my life with. 

 I started crying at the memory of us spending the night together for the very first time in our apartment. I clutch my heart trying my hardest to keep the uncontrollable sob that wanted to be set free in. Where did it go wrong? Everyone told us that we complement each other so well, we were made for each other, everyone just knew that we would end up together in this lifetime.

Looking up at the ceiling, trying to stop more tears from spilling, my throat started to sting and feel dry. The fights started over little things at first. ‘You forgot to throw away the trash’ ‘it said to take the left lane!’ ‘you messed up the recipe”

To ‘ why are you being this way!’ “You are so clingy!’ ‘just leave me alone!’

The last fight was messy. I cringed as I replayed the fight in my head. I hate fighting with him, but afterwards we always end up in each other's arms. But not these last few times.

—

You tried so hard to remember the good times, the good times you spent with each other. But it just seems the bad ones kept consuming everything else. 

“y/n you have no idea how much you mean to me, you’re everything i need, everything i want. Only you. I wouldn't want to spend my life without you. I hope that in every lifetime we come back together. I’ll search for you in every lifetime, I promise…”

 — 

Everything just spilled out, all the tears that I had built up were finally free, I felt my knees hit the carpet, sobbing uncontrollably. Trying to cover them up with my hand over my mouth. 

“Why?” this wasn't the first time you had a night like this. You felt it that whenever you and Stan would fight he’d leave for long periods of time, sometimes the whole night. You felt it in your gut that he went with her. She was a friend, but you knew better. You confronted him about it multiple times, but he would always tell you the same thing over again. “Gosh y/n! No, I didn't go to her house, I just needed some air. "It was a lie. You knew it was.

Stan knew he was lying and he knew that you could tell when he would lie. Staring at your beautiful eyes, he felt so much guilt. He loves you so much and it hurts him that you guys are going through a rough patch. He can't explain why this is happening but it is. You were his person and he couldn't fathom losing you, but he knew he slowly was. He tried to keep the act up, he knew that it was wrong to go to her house at the late hours of the night, letting her kiss him, and hold him and caress him. It never went too far but he knew this was already far enough. He just needed this attention. But why couldn't he ask you for it? He doesn't know.

He doesn't want to lose y/n but he knew the relationship was going nowhere. 4 years going on to 5. The fifth year wouldn't even count because of the fallout between you two. Stan still holds hope that this nightmare will come to an end, that you both can just be happy again. One last time, one last time to be together again.

Y/N

“I cant keep doing this anymore” you told stan as he was changing into his favorite sweater you bought him two christmases ago. He turned around slowly, looking at you confused but he knew.

‘What are you talking about?” he answered after a few minutes of silence. “You know what im talking about” “This Stan!” you pointed at both of you “Us stan, Us, i cant keep doing this anymore” you finally let out the tears you desperately kept from him. “ I-I just can't do this anymore, I am so in love with you but you are pushing me away and going out in the late hours, going God knows where!” tears streaming down your face. The stinging sensation from trying not to cry, burning your throat and nose, making it hard to speak. You had to let him know. “I want you Stan… I need you” “ I need you here with me but you don't try anymore. We wasted a year doing whatever this was… but it's time to stop "" it's time we end it… for good” you stared at him with the tears staining your cheeks.

He looked up to you seeing how destroyed you looked, he caused this in the first place. He wanted to try to work it out, make this right again. Relive the sweet moments when it was just you two in bed. Talking about what the future holds for both of you. 

“But we are meant for each other, you and me till the end” you let out a pity laugh, “yeah i thought so too” “ but its not looking like that stan… not anymore” he got close to you, reaching out to hold you but you backed up a little.

“Please baby, please let me” he whispered to you as he slowly got closer, grabbing your hands, gliding his way up to your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace. You stopped breathing for a second, taking in this moment, taking in his sweet musky scent as it would be the last time you’d be in his arms like this again. You hugged him back, letting it go, letting it all go. Stan didn't realize but he also was crying, sobbing really. You were the one for him...

You looked up at him staring into his beautiful blue eyes, knowing you’ll no longer be able to get lost in the abyss of those eyes you ever so loved. Where did it go wrong? You reach up to hold his face, he holds up a hand to your face as well. Your heads are moving in slow motion, finally connecting to each other kissing each other so gracefully. Taking in the combined salty tears as you kissed; this was like the missing piece to the puzzle, to complete the puzzle. Where did it go wrong? You wanted to hold onto this forever, like he said till the end. It just wasn't going to end like this.

“I love you darling but… im done; we just weren't meant to be in this lifetime together” “no… we were… just not at this time.”

‘You were the right person for me, it was just the wrong time’

‘I hope i can find you again, either in this lifetime or the next’

₊ ⊹🪻 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🔮

n.amaro x reader

summary: you were younger then nick by a couple of years, and sometimes he’d come over to your apartment after late nights at the precinct, he’d come over to just enjoy peace and serenity

content: fluff, reader is in school (2nd or 3rd year of college) suggestive acts (nothing extreme), age gap!, mentions of sexual abuse due to svu cases, nothing too triggering, just a fluffy one shot overall

super short

✧ ✧

it was late at night, you were working on an essay that was due by the end of the week.. you were getting strained and decided to take a break and call it a day.

You made yourself a quick meal, spicy buldak noodles, a sandwich and your favorite drink that was saved in the fridge. You prepared your meal as you were watching your favorite show. you were almost done preparing your late-night snack when you heard the doorknob shake.

You lived a pretty safe vicinity so the chances of a burgler were slim, but you still were vigilant about your safety, you quickly grabbed your broom and held it tight.

Upon your discovery, the door opened and you saw your boyfriend… nick.

You sighed of relief, and he looked at you worried

“Jesus Nick, you scared me!” “geez sorry, i thought this neighbor was safe?”

you put the broom down, “I mean it is but you never know” “yeah.. tell me about it”

he walked to you as you went back in finishing preparing your ramen, he went behind you and grabbed you hips and nuzzled his head in between your neck, kissing you, making you giggle due to his stubble

he continued and you moved your head slightly to give him more access, he took this as a sign to continue. You tried not to get distracted but you let a soft moan escape.

he laughed,and started moving up your body; cupping your boobs. You laughed and finally pushed him away

“stop Nick” you laughed “I want to eat, I’ve been working on an assignment for the past 5 hours.” he let go and laughed “my hard working girl, okay okay I’ll let you eat but next time, you’re all mine!”

you shook your head in sarcasm, he took of his jacket and unbuttoned his white shirt a couple of buttons down, and took off his shoes. He adjusted himself on your couch, and laid there with his eyes closed taking in the aroma therapy essential oils diffuser thats going around your room.

you look at him, now realizing that he’s here strangely. Nick stops by late nights most weekends or if it’s a weekday he’ll let you know earlier in the day if he’s stopping by, but it’s currently a Tuesday at 12:36 am.

“hey Nick?”

he hummed in response, most likely getting sleepy

“not to sound rude or anything.. but why are you here? It’s late on a Tuesday night, shouldn’t you be at your place?”

He opened one eye and looked over at you

“do you not want me here?” He said a bit suspicious

“oh god, no like yeah I do, but I just realized what day it was and you know you usually let me know when you’re coming over and it’s usually weekends you spend the night with me, I just found it odd you came to visit me tonight” “I love it when you’re here really”

you finally finished your ramen and took it towards the couch where Nick was, and started eating as you waited for a response.

he was hesitant in his answer, he seemed stressed and frustrated.

“today we had a tough case.. a rape case..”

you look at him attentively, making sure you are hearing him and that he has your fullest attention.

you nod in continuous

“and well… it’s about a 8 year old girl who’s after school teacher has been acting inappropriately with her.. you know like touching her where she shouldn’t be touched”

“oh my god” was what you let out

“yeah, and her home life isn’t easy, this one was a bit tough to work on dude to how young and bright this little girl is. I hate to see anyone take it away from her”

you put your ramen down and get close to him, caressing his hand.

“and being here.. with you just brings me peace. All is perfect here, so sorry i came unexpected but i really needed to see you”

you smiled at him

“awe baby, you know you are always welcomed here, I love having you here, never goes a day where I don’t miss you”

you make him look at you and caress his cheek, looking so attentively at his eyes, leaning in and kissing him so gracefully.

he takes you in, and guides a hand on your neck. You move to his lap and continue to kiss him, sucking on each others lips, and you slightly grinding on him

he groans a bit and you continue to bit his lip. You pull away with his lip in between your teeth and stare at him and run a finger across his now plumped lips

“thank you for coming over”

“thank you for having me”

-; ✧˖*°࿐ -; ✧˖*°࿐ -; ✧˖*°࿐

summary: you beg Edward to let you ride him, but obviously he denies it. But you convinced him of another method of riding

Content tags: 18+ ,!smut, thigh riding, dry humping! i think, fingering!, squirting! (this was collecting dust in the drafts for like ever)

short and ass (my bad)

e. cullen x reader

it was a chilly afternoon, the wind blowing, creating small tornados of dried up leaves, scratching the pavement. You and Edward are inside, his small cottage he had in the woods of Forks, Washington.

All afternoon you’ve been cuddled up against your cold skinned boyfriend. But you always feel warm around him.

while cuddling, you accidentally nudged him causing him to groan. to him it hurt but for you, you wanted to hear more.

This caused you to get hot. You started to kiss his cheek, then his jawline, then his neck. He enjoyed it too.

you got on top of him, kissing him, straddling him. He knew what you were doing.

“Y/n stop” he said

“oh cmon Edward, please” you continue kissing him, you now start to grind a bit against him.

“No y/n, you know we can’t, I’d love to but I can’t” he says shamefully while pushing you off of him.

You stop, and look at him in defeat. You’ve always tried to get him to continue but his morals just won’t let him.

Until an idea pops up in you mind.

“Edward” “yeah”

“what if- now hear me out, what if you let me ride you”

his palely skin turns a bit pink

“w-what? That still can’t-“

“no no but not with your dick…. With… your thigh”

he looks at you confused but somewhat interested

“yeah you let me .. ride you but on your thigh. It’s very simple, you let me do all the work and you don’t have to do anything”

You started to straddle him again, caressing his clothed chest.

“You just relax, i promise to make you feel good”

Edward was so mesmerized, he didn’t say anything . He let you take advantage of him. he laid his hands on the side of the couch, letting you do your thing

you got onto his cold and rough thigh. You were still clothed from the bottom.

You looked at him with lustful eyes and slowly grinding on his thigh, he knew this was wrong but he just couldn’t bother stopping you from fucking yourself into him. You just looked so good, eyes partially closed slowly grinding and running your hands up to your tits, and giving them a light squeeze.

you know he was watching your every move, so you grabbed his hands and replaced your hands from the previous position

“cmon baby, don’t be scared” you said slightly out of breath

he was scared but he trusted you and what were you doing. you saw the huge erection growing in his tight pants, you slowly crept your hands to the area that needed the most attention.

“no.. don’t touch” Edward huffed out

“please let.. me”

he held you, closing his eyes, feeling you slowly rubbing yourself on him. You were getting so needy, holding on to his broad shoulders, digging your nails into them.

"mmh.. like that.." you said while tiliting your head back, your eyes closing shut, eyebrows scrunting up in pleasure.

Edward holding you so tight, keeping you in place on his dick, wanting more friction.

you got up, and edward looked at you confused and frustrated, but you pulled down your leggings as well as your panties, quickly trying to shimmy your way out of them

"you keep your pants on" you huffed

your wet slick being absorbed by his jeans, seeing the patch of wetness on his dick print

you began to rub yourself on him, moaning loudly. Edward imagining it was his dick that was pumping into you.

you started to aggressively move your hips trying to get to your high

"fuck Edward.." you moaned. Edward needed to see more of you

he dared and inserted two fingers into you, this caught you by surprise, feeling his icy cold fingers pump you so good. your wetness lubing his fingers perfectly, to easily get in there deeper.

"yeah.. yes.. please edward" tears started to well up, "yeah? you like that? cmon.. look at me"

you tried to open your eyes,

finally looking at how beautiful he was. "atta girl, thats it.. how bad you want it?"

"yes! bad.. p-please. please.."

you stopped rubbing trying to let him continue with his fingers, but he stopped as well. "uh uh, cmon pretty, keeping moving"

frustrated, you kept rubbing on him. his fingers now going faster, placing his thumb on your clit, creating circular motions

"f-fuck ed- im com-"

edward was panting.. on his other hand, holding you tight

"m-me too"

sweat beads starting to fall down your forehead, you leaned forward placing your hot, sweating head on his. feeling the coldness of his skin.

feeling your stomach getting tight, holding onto his head, cry-moaning as you felt yourself release.

"come for me"

your head went back as you squirted and making a big mess on edward's jeans. besides the heatness of your cheeks from the sex, they got hotter of embarrassment of edward seeing you like that.

"o-oh my g-god" you panted out

Edward was shocked, and so incredibly turned on that you can do that.

"im.. im so sorry, this is so embarrassing.." "no no that was so hot" he looked at you with lovely eyes

he kissed you and wiped the sweat under your eyes, "you are so incredibly beautiful"

you smiled at him and fell over on the couch, still bare from the bottom.

"fuck edward..." you said in bliss, smiling to yourself

"well now i have to go change my pants.." he said as he got up

"sorry.."

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

c.brock x latina! y/n

summary: you moved to LA to be with your long distance boyfriend, you were having a great time, but after a couple of months you started to feel homesick and missed your hometown and your culture

content tags: spanish speaking reader, mexican reader, cultural references, overall a hispanic reader, not proof-read

word count: 1.6k

fluff ❀﹐

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Y/N

I've loved my time here in LA with colby and sam and all their friends but i recently fell in a funk. I miss my family and my friends.

you were scrolling through your photos and snapchat memories of your time in your hometown and started to feel really homesick, you began to cry, you laid back on you side and cried.

you missed your mom's delicious cooking, how she would make handmade tortillas, or her salsa picante. you didnt have that here and nor did anyone make it, you didnt have any hispanic friends in LA. You would only hang out with sam and colby's friends

you liked them but they sometimes including colby didnt understand your jokes or references. it sometimes pained you that you felt out of place around them.

you connected your speaker in the room that was given to you when you first moved to their house, and a song that reminded you of your dad started to play; its your dad's favorite song, and you couldn't control the sadness that flowed through your body

you spent a good two hours just crying and eventually calmed down but you were puffy eyed and your breathing was skipped

you sat up to recollect your self before colby came home and would come in your room, until another song started to play from your playlist, a heart wrenching song that reminded you of your beloved parents.

you started to cry again, you leaned back to the head board and clutched your body as you were singing to the lyrics

Colby came in the room all happy and giddy until he saw you crying

"oh my god! y/n are you okay? are you hurt? does something hurt?"

he was panicking trying to figure out why you were crying.

"no... nothings wrong" you got up quickly and turned around to wipe your face. he also got up to try to look at you but you kept avoiding him until he grabbed you face and made you look at him

"y/n.. somethings wrong, please just tell me"

"you wont understand" "just try me"

you mustered up the courage to tell him the truth. you looked at him and started to tear up again

"i-i just feel... i just started to feel homesick, thats all" colby was relieved that it wasnt anything life threatening

"oh, well why is that?"

"i dont know... i just miss home, like i really do. my family and friends, my culture and the food, everything" you looked at how he felt hurt about how you were talking about missing your family and friends.

"dont get me wrong, i love being here with you, you make being here so bearable but i just miss my people.. thats all" you half smiled

"no.. yeah i get that, is there anything i can do to make you feel better?"

"no its fine, i just need a couple minutes alone thats all"

"yeah yeah sure... ill be downstairs if you need me alright?"

you kissed him and hugged him tightly, feeling so safe in his arms.

"thank you, i love you"

"i love you too" he walked out and closed the door, feeling terrible that you felt that way, he wished he could do something about your homesickness

COLBY

as i walked back downstairs to sit with sam on the couch, he noticed my upset mood.

"Everything alright dude?" "uh.. yeah its just y/n is feeling homesick and sorta on the verge of going back home"

"oh shit dude, i definitely know what she's feeling" " do you think we've made her not feel at home? you think I haven't made her feel like home?" " i mean we haven't really done anything to make her feel at home"

"shit dude youre right, we haven't, i feel like the worst boyfriend ever. cant even make my girlfriend feel loved or feel like this is her home"

i started to think about ways to make her feel at home, i can cook her favorite food? no its too late for that, its almost 8

"what should i do sam?" "how about you take her to the other side of LA, take her some place authentic, not might be like where she's from but its the closest thing we got"

"yeah yeah you're right, let me go tell her!"

i ran upstairs and came up to her door, softly knocked to let her know i was coming in, she was still there in bed listening to her spanish music.

"hey y/n.. how you holding up?" "hi.. im doing alright, still trying to get my breathing under control" she let out a dry giggle

i caressed her face admiring her glossy eyes and her stained cheeks, leaning down to kiss her on her forehead, " i was thinking-" she sat up "what were you thinking"

"how about i take you out to eat some place special?" "ehh im not in the mood to eat colby" "no cmon i know a place, trust me"

Y/N

he looked at me with pleading eyes, "sure why not"

"alright get reading in ten minutes" "okay" you smiled and got up to get ready, he left the room to let you get dressed

you wore some ripped jeans with your white Mexico world cup jersey, and some black platform converse. added some mascara and some lip balm before leaving you grabbed your purse

you went downstairs and was greeted by colby waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. "hey y/n!"

"hey sam"

"you ready to go babe?"

"yes of course!"

"but before we leave i need you to put this on"

he was holding a blindfold, you looked at him confused and he went behind you to put the blindfold on, you were about to protest before he kissed your cheek and wrapped the blindfold around your eyes

"alright lets go, bye sam!"

you headed out the door, stumbling trying to remember all the steps to get to the car, colby opened the car door and helped you inside.

"was the blindfold really necessary?" "yeah babe, i want to surprise you"

"it wont really be a surprise if we go to in n out" he laughed at the assumption

"how about i put some music on?" "hmm yeah okay" colby connected his phone to the car's bluetooth and a song you recognized easily came on. you started to sing along to song. Colby created a playlist on your favorite spanish-speaking songs. He had to stalk your public Spotify playlist to be able to create the playlist.

"omg i love this song!!" you started to sing the song, pointing the lyrics to Colby not knowing how much of a distraction you are creating for him on the road.

still with the blindfold on you continue to sing all the songs that played, surprised how many spanish songs kept coming on

"omg how do you know these songs?!" "did you stalk my spotify?" you let out a laugh, "gosh y/n no I didn't" yes he did

you laughed at him, knowing well that this is from your playlist, or you thought it was just your playlist he started to play.

"are we there yet?" "no"

"are we there yet now?" "almost"

"what about now?" "actually yeah we are"

"why did it take you so long to drive to in n out if its only a 15 minute drive from the house?"

as you heard opening his side of the door, he rushed over to open your door, "well babe, we arent actually at in n out"

confused, wondering where else he would have taken you

"well.. where are we-" you started to smell the char smell of meat... taco meat.

"omg it smells so good.. where are we..?"

"well let me cross you over the street to find out" "what?"

you started to take off the blindfold until he stopped you, "ah ah ahh, no taking this off yet until i say so" "omg colby where are we"

he guided you across the street, smelling everything. it smelled like home almost, you started to hear the steam of a grill and the music that you grew up listening to. Hearing chatter among people.. in spanish?

"colby... where are we?"

colby finally let go of you and starting to take the blind fold off of you, you adjust to the light and rubbing your eyes a bit to clearly see the scene.

taqueros and vendedores making and selling snacks and meals. hearing them laugh, sing, and speak spanish.

"oh my god.." you said under your breath looking all over, small tears start to well up. "colby.. what is this?"

"i felt really bad that you were feeling homesick, and i hate seeing you cry, so i thought maybe i try to bring home to you... I know this isnt exactly home but i love you so much that i would do anything for you and to show you how much you mean to me, i dont want you to go home, i want to always make you happy y/n"

your tears finally fell, you fully realized how special and loving colby was, you felt so warm and loved.

"Colby... this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, you have no idea how much this means to me, and for you to actually consider this idea really brings me to tears, i am so completely in love with you"

you grabbed his head and kissed him, deepening the kiss and full engulf his lips. you let go and admire his big beautiful eyes.

"gosh.. well cmon lets eat something, what kind of tacos do you want babe?" "ehh i have no clue what to get, everything looks so good, how about you order me something"

you smiled at him, wondering how did you get so lucky to have someone so special such as colby brock

you turned over to the taquero and smiled at him, the man smiling back at you and asking what you what would you like to eat.

⋆¸*ೃ☼ ⋆¸*ೃ

band au! Stan marsh x y/n

AGED UP! AGED UP! AGED UP!

summary: you were part of Stan’s band, crimson dawn as one of the lead singers, you and Stan had an established relationship but ended things badly due to lack of communication (on his part) everything he did or you did annoyed each other, but how can you guys continue playing together if you guys hate each other

warnings: swearing, arguing, marijuana usage, alcohol consumption, implied sex, angsty, jealous Stan!, maybe smut (probably)

2.6K words

not proof read (my bad)

(idk how many words this got so.. my bad pt 2)

you were currently on Wendy’s bed groaning and whining. you were so fed up and annoyed you could literally punch the next person that breathes next to you.

“Cmon y/n, it can’t be that bad anymore!” Wendy said. Wendy has been trying to cheer you up for over an hour making you forget about what happened at the crimson dawn meeting.

“no Wendy you don’t understand, Stan tries to always take control on everything the band does, we literally can’t fucking breathe anymore, all he does is nag and nag and nag, I can’t fucking stand him” you got up in anger clutching your hair in distress trying not to pull your hair apart, you might be getting grey hairs over this whole thing

“you’re only saying that because you guys broke up on bad terms and you still have to play alongside him y/n”

you and Stan dated for almost over a year before calling it quits. You truly did love that boy but he never tried to put any effort in the relationship anymore after the fourth month of dating. It’s like he lost complete feelings. That wasn’t the case though, he just had a hard time trying to distinguish if your feelings were as true as his but because of all the trying to decipher he lost complete focus on your relationship, resulting in never ending arguments and constant degradation

you loved him so much it hurt you physically after the break up, it took you a while to get yourself together.. for the band. Crimson dawn was getting recognition around South Park county and neighboring counties as well. You guys were getting paid for each gig. You had to continue even if it meant you had to play alongside your ex boyfriend, who you secretly still are in love with but won’t admit to anyone.

You didn’t notice but Wendy brought a box of tissues to you, you hadn’t realized but you were crying. You didn’t know how it happened. But you willing accepted the tissue, wiping your eyes and covering the pure white tissues with black eyeliner and black mascara

“I know it’s not easy, but the band is something you love, don’t let Stan ruin it for you this much.”

She was right, you loved the band, jimmy, butters and Kenny made being in the band fun and bearable

“yeah I guess you’re right-” as soon as you finished your sentence you got a phone call, you looked at the caller ID and it was Stan. You waited a few seconds before answering. “what’s up?” You spoke

“uh hey we just got a gig at some guys party, so come meet at my house in 20 minutes, don’t be late” he replied

“yeah sure whatever, I’ll be on my way” you hanged up in annoyance

“We just got a gig, Wendy by any chance did I leave any extra clothes here?”

You turned around in hopes she did have something you can wear. “Do you mean this?” She held your favorite outfit you forgot about months ago, when you slept over. it was your favorite dress, the flowy ,lacy black dress that made you feel and look so good on your body. God bless, you were already wearing your doc martens. All you had to do was add some finishing touches to your hair and face.

“how do I look?” You asked in worry

“fucking hot, honestly, like I literally could bang right now”

“oh my god! Wendy!!” You laughed at the explicit comment she made

you arrived at Stan’s house in a hurry hoping no one will noticed you were slightly late, you were dreading this but you just couldn’t wait to perform beside Stan

“You’re late y/n” Stan spat

“yeah by a fucking minute, what’s the big deal” you nonchalantly responded, finding your seat next to Kenny.

“the big deal is I told you to not be fucking late and that’s the first thing you do, gosh can’t you understand simply directions?”

“here we go again” Kenny said in humor while taking a sip of his beer

you angrily got up to his face, “You know what jack-ass fuck you, who gives a shit, it was just one fucking minute, why are you bitching about 60 seconds?”

“no fuck you-”

Butters went in between you and Stan who were standing so close to each another

“okay guys! we’re all here Stan cmon tell us what we’re doing” butters shakily said

he took one long second to stare down at you, clearly still pissed off

“okay fine.. I was going to say, that we got a call from one of Clyde’s cousins who’s having a party up in Jefferson county. Just 25 minutes from here. So let’s get ready to head up there”

you all agreed and started gathering your equipment and putting it in the van (that said tegridy farms). It was quiet but not an uncomfortable quiet. You were trying to put all the equipment in the van , fixing the boxes, and the instruments, when stan came up to you.

"y/n... look im sorry i yelled at you..... but seriously dont be late"

" stan i wasnt even that late... i dont know why you are making a big deal out of this... but i accept your apology" "lets just go.. okay?"

"yeah... okay"

As you went inside the van, you sat in between kenny and butters, while stan drove and jimmy sat in the passenger seat. As you were heading towards Jefferson, kenny lit up a joint, taking one huge puff. exhaling and coughing, kenny passing it to you. You received it by taking it in between you thumb and index finger. taking a big puff, you exhaled and then quickly inhaled it all back. Kenny laughed, "oh wow, didn't know you knew how to do that" you giggled and give him a small slap on his shoulder. "please kenny, you were the one who taught me"

The van started to fog up and the herby, skunk smell started to flow around the van, almost disgusting you in a way, creating a bit of a headache due to the "skunk" smell. As you were laughing it up with kenny and butters you had a feeling you were being stared down. You were, Stan was looking at you guys through the rear-view mirror, clenching his jaw and hands, created white marks on his knuckles as he gripped the steering wheel.

Once you guys arrived at clyde's cousins place, you could see all the people outside on the porch laughing, drinking, and smoking. Speaker music faintly coming out through the doors and windows. Colorful lights spinning all around, like a rave almost.

"alright guys, we're here.. we are going to do our best and make everyone know our name... couple ground rules before we go inside... Kenny dont try hooking up with anyone, please we seriously dont have time for that.. actually that goes for everyone. thats it lets go"

"please dude, i'm not gonna have sex... i didn't bring any condoms, plus cartman thought it would be funny how hard he can kick me in my fucking nuts. wasn't fucking funny"

You chuckled giving him a reassuring pat on his back and walked inside with him cursing out cartman and how hes a fat fuck who gets no bitches whatsoever.

You walked in and saw how everyone was dancing and singing and having a great time. you then saw a couple that kind of reminded you of you and stan, they looked so in love and so happy to be in each other's arms. you missed stan and you missed being with him, you didnt realize you were staring until jimmy kicked you with his crutch. "cmon on y-y-y/n" you snapped out of it and proceeded to help the rest of the guys set up. making final adjustments and being ready to perform.

"alright guys, you guys ready?"

"ready!"

"alright.. 1 .. 2 .. 3.."

the jimmy started to bang his drumsticks, and then kenny started with his bass.

you were their lead singer, as you were ready to begin singing you tried to get into the mindset, you know what song was first and it was a song you composed for stan. nobody really knows what the real reason was for the song, you just lied to them saying its based on a scene from a movie you saw.

you took one last deep breath, looking to your left you saw stan, smiling at you and nodding to you, signifying you'll do great. stan knew whenever you were scared or nervous... and knew what to do to calm you down.

you started singing, keeping in the rhythm by tapping your foot, you started to gain confidence as the chorus began to start. you took the microphone off the stand

send you my love on a wire

lift you up everytime

everyone, ooh

pulls away, ooh

from you

you were dancing and whipping your hair to the beat, staining the microphone with your red lipstick, moving your body to the beat and feeling the confidence rise up, when you saw everyone in a big pile, you did the unthinkable, you dived into them, crowd surfing the decent sized group of people, you were laughing and thanked the people who brought you back onto stage.

stan couldn't believe you just did that, he knew you were extroverted but didnt know it to this extent. he fell in love with you all over again. it almost pained him that you were no longer his, because of him, because of how stupid he was with words, how he lost the most important person in his life, the person that made life bearable. he wish he would fix it, could fix your guy's relationship.

the song was ending and you made sure to dance to the every end. as you guys were wrapping up, you had a 30 minute intermission before the last song. You got out to find yourself a drink, heading into the kitchen, it was a really big kitchen, marble countertops and porcelain walls. you found yourself the jungle juice they had, a bit strong for your liking so you only pour yourself a little bit. stan saw you and as he was about to go over and hopefully have a genuine conversation, some prep looking guy came up to you instead. he stood there observing, almost like a creep, but he means well

"hey! im clyde's cousin derek!' he semi shouted

"oh hey!, great party you have here"

"thank you, hey you were really great up there, you have such a great voice, and your performance skills is amazing, that crowd surf has everyone talking about it!"

you were a bit embarrassed that you actually did that. "yeahh sorry about that, i dont know what got into me. i dont usually do that, i just sing and dance really" you chuckled shamelessly

"nah nah you're good!" he looked at you with lustful eyes, he was getting close to you... like really close. you didnt really want to but he were craving the lips of somebody's. Stan was watching this all unravel and he started clenching his jaws. He immediately swooped in and grabbed you by your arm.

"hey whats your problem?!" he ignored your shouts, until he took you in a coat closet. he was intensely looking at you. unfortunatley he was a couple inches taller then you so you had to look up at him. there was this energy that made the temperature in the closet hotter.

"y/n"

"'y-yeah stan"

"im sorry..."

"for what?"

"im sorry for being a horrible boyfriend, i should've never shut you out, nor ignore you when you needed me the most. im so so sorry y/n.. and- and i cant stand you being with other guys, i cnat stand the fact they get to kiss you instead of me- i want to be the only guy holding you, kissing you, caressing you, everything, i want you to me mine... and only mine.. no one else's."

you were in a sort of shock, you didn't know what to say. the thing that you could say was, "stan i-"

you kissed him so passionately, he reacted a second late until he started to kiss you back.

"jump"

he said. you oblied to what he said and jumped. you wrapped you legs around his torso gripping him tight into your embrace, he started to kiss you down to your neck, making you lean your head back into the wall, moaning at the sensatiuon he gave once he found your sweet spot

"oh god, how i missed those noises that come out that pretty mouth of yours"

this made you even more wet then you were before. in a swift motion he took off your dress to reveal your through lace bra, your harden nipples poking out. He pinched them through the fabric, making you moan out in pleasure. You were loud since there was music playing, so no one could hear you scream in pleasure.

you were left in your underwear and bra, stan removed your underwear and started to rub circles in between your lips, using your wetness to lube up his fingers to slowly glide them in. making quenching noises as he pumped in and out of you at very slow pace. His thick fingers making it hurt to fully consume him. He moaned to the feeling of your warm spongy walls trying so hard to take him fully, and this was just his fingers.

"fuck stan, please go faster please.. please" you were begging for more, this drives stan crazy but he wanted to take his time with you, he wanted to make you feel good, make you only scream his name.

"yeah? you want me to go faster? cmon.. y/n enjoy this moment with me"

he started to pump even faster, catching you off guard. you gripped on his shoulders, trying to calm your breathing.

"yeah like that, yes!"

"i just remembered you were gonna kiss that douche out there"

he stopped his movements, and quickly pulled out his fingers

"fuck stan!" you exclaimed

he unbuckled his pants and pulled both his pants and boxers down, revealing his long, red, needy, tip. You smiled at his leaky tip, shakily rubbing all the precum all over his sensitive tip.

he moaned and bit his lip, "you like that?"

you kissed him one last time, "fuck stan, please- please just-just shove it in me"

he wasted no time, and roughly pounded in you. you held a tight grip around his waist and shoulders. he held onto your waist, watching himself disappear into you wet cunt. you had moved your head to the side moaning and winning at the pleasure you were enduring.

you were so close and so was he. he grunting became whinning and whimpers. you held onto his face looking at his beautiful eyes

he breifly looked down and back up you

"y/n im gonna-im gonna cum"

"me-me too"

"i love you"

he pounded one last time into you and let his seed fill you up to the brim. your cum and his began to drip down to the floor, he stood there a moment. both of you trying to regain energy and steading your breath.

you got off of him and leaned back onto the wall. Trying to process everything that went down.

“I love you too”

you both smiled, and cleaned yourselves up. Until both of you heard a loud knock.

“Cmon you fucking weirdos, we have to do our last song!” Kenny shouted from the other side.. "also stan your a hypocrite, you said no hoo-"

"yeah yeah i know what i said"

you both laughed and continued cleaning the closet of any unwanted substance

“y/n I do really love you”

“I know stan… I love you too”

; ૢ✧∘* ૢ✧∘* ૢ✧∘* ૢ✧∘* ૢ✧∘* ૢ✧∘*

Kyle b. x Latina! y/n

AGED UP

SUMMARY: kyle was good at every subject, algebra to physics; but there was one class he cannot seem to be good at, no matter how much he stayed after school or missed lunch to study. Spanish was just really hard for him. You on the other hand we’re fluent, born and raised. So Spanish was very easy for you.

warnings: smut! teasing, public sex, handjobs, praising!, degradation! (if you squint perhaps, idk lemme know), dirty talking! sub! kyle? dom! y/n?

(not proof read,, my bad)

ૢ✧∘* ૢ✧∘*

_________________________________________________

“dude you are really failing Spanish?” Stan questioned, “yeah dude, i don’t know what is wrong with me, I’m good at everything!” Kyle said frustrated. Kyle was worried about his grade in Spanish and it didn’t help that midterm report cards are coming in the mail tomorrow. “Dude what am I going to do!, I cannot fail Spanish and it shows on transcript” Stan and the rest of the boys were thinking. Until butters popped out of nowhere saying, “you can ask y/n! She has an A in Spanish and she’s Latina” he said wiggling his eyebrows.

Y/n… Kyle thought, he did notice you in his 8th Spanish period. He always thought you were cute and funny as well. He blushed on the thought on asking you for tutoring… usually he is the tutor. “Yeah dude, ask y/n she can really help you” Stan agreed. “I don’t know dude, do you think she would want to?” “Are you a fucking idiot? kyel I’m even smarter then that” cartman finally joined the conversation after eating his big ass BLT with just the B. Kyle couldn’t even talk back because he was right, just ask her for help. ‘I need at least a B+ in this upcoming test, fine I’ll ask her later today”

Kyle all day was wondering how would he approach you, ‘ hey can you tutor me?’ no no.. ‘uh hey ! is it cool if you can tutor me?’ nope ‘yo! tutor me’ god no!

8th period rolled around and he entered Ms. Vazquez class, he searched the room for your bright presence. He saw you in the back talking to Wendy, laughing and being pretty. He started walking back to you, “uh hey.. y/n can I ask you something?” “uhh.. yeah sure what’s up Kyle?” He was nervous, why was he nervous around you? “I wanted to ask you if you can tutor me on Spanish? It’s just I’m failing and you’re the only one I know who’s good at spanish and at teaching. So if you wouldn’t mind, I could pay you if you want-” “kyle!” He looked at you shocked “it’s okay! I’ll tutor you. Don’t worry about paying me” you said all sweet

“o-okay! um do you want to meet in the library?” “Yeah sure, If you get there before me pick the table in the back by the window!” “alright-” “atención niños, ya sonó el timbre por favor busquen sus asientos!” Ms. Vazquez exclaimed and class has already started

ૢ✧∘* ૢ✧∘*

kyle hurried to the library, ready to learn. He brought his notes, highlighters and laptop, he was determined to get an A on this test for Spanish. He sat in the table you clearly instructed him to sit at earlier today. He waited there patiently for your arrival. kids were leaving the building and buses were starting to leave. He heard the door open and there you were with your pink backpack holding your keys and your metal water bottle together making them clank around the quiet library. “ahh! There you are, this was exactly the table I was talking about, such a good listener!” She said. The way y/n said it made Kyle shiver a bit.

“okay Kyle let’s start on the last worksheet señorita Vazquez gave us” “oh yeah worksheet 3.5, I have that one!” “Great let’s start on that one to see how much help you need… okay so you basically need to fill in the blanks on the correct Spanish term, the first one is El supermercado esta or estas muy lejos?” “uhh estas?” “no kyle eso no fue correcto, that was not correct” you said now getting visibly closer. “Cmon kyle I know you know this” you said seductively. Your hand now reached his thigh, softly massaging it closer to his crotch. His breath hitched, he started to breath rapidly. Twitching in your touch.

“uhh I- I- I think it’s.. esta?” He stuttered, “si! muy bien!, such a good boy Kyle” you whispered the last part “did you know good boys get rewarded?” You were now softly clutching his dick, feeling it get harder in his tight pants. Kyle started to whimper in your touch. “Next one Kyle, el jarrón está or estaba lleno de agua?” kyle was trying so hard to concentrate on the question, you started to unzip his pants and put your hand on top of his clothed dick, feeling it get big and twitch in your hands. Giving the clothed tip a slight squeeze. “Cmon mi vida, what’s the answer?” You teased him. “Uhh it’s esta” he kept losing focus but if he answered correctly you’d give his cock the attention he desperately wanted. “You’re such a smart boy” you kept rubbing on his now sensitive dick, you finally took him out of his suffocating boxers. Making his hard cock spring up, all red and precum leaking from the cherry red tip. “Now be a good boy for me Kyle and don’t make any noise, because we do not want to get caught.. do we?” You teased, kyle was shaking over how overstimulated he was being, all he did was nod because if he opened his mouth, loud moans and whimpers would escape. “ah uh I need you to use your words querida” using Spanish pet names were really getting him all riled up, all he could muster up was “y-yes” “okay! next question” he looked at you confused and frustrated, “what? I’m here to tutor you Kyle” you smiled innocently leaning over the table on your elbow and now started to stroke Kyle’s big dick

“en el cielo se puede/puedo ver júpiter desde aquí?” you started to increase the stroking speed a bit, he couldn’t focus all he could focus on was the pleasure he was receiving, “kyle what’s the answer?” you started to slow down again, he noticed the slowed friction, “it’s uh puedo” “no that’s incorrect” you took your hand off his dick. “no! please- more- please” he begged in such a slutty matter, your pussy started to throb and soak over his sweet whimpers you caused him,rubbing your legs together trying to ease the the throb in your panties. “you didn’t get it correct, so I’m not going to touch you until you get this next one correct” kyle whimpered, trying to focus on the questions “this one is now different, en que año se independizo finalmente mexico?, I hope you know dates” he knew this one, it was so easy. “1821!” You started stroking him again, “good! Such a smart boy, how would my smart boy like to get rewarded?” You stroked him painfully slow “y-yes please- please touch me” he embarrassingly said. you loved the way you powered over him and complied for his request “ok mi niño, I’ll touch you, only because you’ve been so good for me” You started to stroke his hard cock, rubbing the tip to get him even more harder then what he already is.

Kyle started grilling the table trying so hard not to make any noise, “you like that huh? All tense over my soft hand on your beautiful cock” “what I would do to have your dick in my pretty ,small mouth” you seductively said in his ear. He let one moan escape over the way you’re talking to him. “f-fuck y/n please-” I want you to ask me in Spanish” his brain is all mush “por favor y/n dame mas” “que lindo te vez asi, hecho bolas en mis manos” you pumped him faster, squeezing his tight balls. you felt his dick twitch, you knew he was about to cum. “Y/n I’m about to cum-" “yeah? I want you to cum, fill my hands with your babies” that did it for him, he bite his lip so hard trying not to make any noise, tasting the copper from all the bitting he has been doing. He leaned his head back; feeling the sweat beads and his curly hair stick to his forehead, softly swearing profanities under his breath. “I’m cumming!” He softly spoke, kyle let his load off on your pretty manicured hands. “Fuck baby, had all that cum in there for me huh?” Kyle was too fucked out, head fell on the table trying to catch his breath. He started feeling light-headed, you licked off majority of his cum off your hands, wiping the rest with a make-up remover you had in your backpack.

“I think you will pass the Spanish test, pretty good at it. Don’t know why you’re failing” you teased while collecting your things. You got up and bent behind Kyle. “Next time let’s study in my room, we can do more than handjobs.” You butterfly kissed his neck, kyle leaning to give you access. You giggled and stood straight. “I’ll see you later Kyle”

You left Kyle still strung out on his orgasm he just had in the public library. You walked to the other isle and saw Bebe and Wendy with wide eyes. “that’s how you do it, see you later cabronas” you laughed off to go jerk off to kyles moans you had forever engraved in your brain.

ૢ✧∘* ૢ✧∘* ૢ✧∘* ૢ✧∘*

๑ˊૢᵕˋૢ๑

summary: Peter always known you had a wide variety of music, but only heard the soft music. Until one day he heard music he never thought you’d listen to

Content tags: fluff, light swearing, implied violence, implied sexual acts, slight teasing

tasm!Peter Parker xgn!reader

๑ˊૢᵕˋૢ๑

(real ones know these songs)

——————————————————————————-

Peter was out patrolling early morning, and you were home wondering what to do to kill time. you were currently listening to music, the soft indie music. You were vibing to them until you kept playing the other playlists in your library that were collecting dust

Kept skipping playlists until you stopped at one playlist you didn’t think you’d ever come back to. Something in you sparked up.

it got you up on your feet and straight to the speaker to connect.

beep!

connected

“ignore the hate, ignore the fake, ignore the funny shit, cause if * violate, we got hunnid clips”

you’ve always been a fan of this music but things change, eventually you came back to the music you swore you’d never listen to again

you were singing and shouting, and dancing to the music

all the hype got you cleaning yours and Peter’s shared bedroom

“These bitches love sosa! O end or no end!”

the music really helped you stay on task with the house hold chores

“just got some top from a stripper bitch, she from Kankakee”

at this point you now drifted to the kitchen to clean all while the music still played out

“I’m out here in Miami! Looking for the hoochie daddy’s!”

while the commotion was going on, you heard the keys jingle and you quickly went to the room to turn off the music before peter could fully hear the music and the lyrics.

He opened the door and you stood there out of breath and smiling

He gave you a confused smile

“why are you out of breath?” He laughed

“oh um.. I’ve been cleaning! you know me”

he laughed and brushed off the odd event

you love Peter really, but him knowing you like rap music kind of cringes you, since you both made fun of it often. So him knowing you like it too, he’ll tease you.

the next day

Peter left for work and you again were left at home on your day off

you turned on the speaker, and played your current favorite playlist, and got to cleaning

“Triple homicide, put me in a chair, yeah!”

and this is how you cleaning

bathroom, “she wanna go viral! Keep fuckin’ for hours! That pussy got power! That pussy got power!”

bedroom, “riding through New York, finna go shoot up New Jersey!…. We gon come and blow New Jersey up”

living room, “ I gotta * that fuck me so great! Whenever he wanna eat it, I just put it in his face!”

while singing, you were trying to remember why you stopped listening to this music.

it was character development in all honesty

you were so into the cleaning you didn’t hear the door open.

“Know a little freak in Hollywood, sucks on dick, does it real good!”

as you were rapping these lyrics, dancing, you turned around and met with your boyfriend who had wide eyes at your explicit language and the music choice you chose

you froze and widen your eyes that you were finally caught and you couldn’t deny the truth. You’re heart beating due to the combination of singing, dancing and cleaning.

you grabbed your phone and pressed pause

“who am I dating?” He said in sarcastic disbelief

“awh noo, I didn’t want you to see me like this!” You exclaimed

you were embarrassed, like genuinely

“why?”

“Cmon Pete, aren’t you surprised?”

he paused

“yeah actually, I never knew you listened to this music” he said with a hint of disgust

“well I don’t but I have been recently… I used to like rap music years back but I stopped” you admitted

“and I missed it, this music really gets you pumping and full of energy”

he admired your truthfulness, but still wasn’t convinced this was you

“you keep looking at me as if I’m lying to you” you said

he laughed, “can I be honest, I want to believe you that you like this music but .. I just can’t” he said between giggles

“stop Peter I’m serious, I do like this music”

“right…”

“look click any song from here and I can sing with ease, I swear”

he was skeptical but he did anyway. He intently looked at the titles and see if he can loophole and find a song you don’t know… he was wrong

“ah okay this one!”

he played “X” by 21 savage

you proved him wrong, you do know this song

the song only started a few seconds and you told him the name of it and he stood there in shock

“woah”

“I told you”

a few moments of silence and he started dying of laughter

you knew he wouldn’t let this live down

but now you listen to that music and he has to listen

he would be lying if he didn’t find himself singing along and bumping his head.. but he wouldn’t admit that… ever

๑ˊૢᵕˋૢ๑

-; ✧˖*°࿐

Summary: you and colby brock have been friends with benefits for a while, You eventually developed feelings and so did he. But you didn’t know, he would always give you the cold shoulder after sex. you were fed up.

Content tags: jealousy, arguments/yelling, alcohol usage, angst 100%, light smut, MAJOR plot, possibly a happy ending probably not (there is)

Colby b. x reader

(this was in the drafts for like 5 months, my bad if it’s ass)

-; ✧˖*°࿐

———————————————————————————

“fuck.. colby, right there” you whined at the roughness Colby was hitting you with. both you and Colby were almost to your climax, hitting your g-spot constantly and you being fucked dumb.

“you feel so good y/n, no one like you”

these words coming from him felt so good and loved but you knew that the minute he came in you, that would all go away. You wanted to savor the moments where he would say all these sweet nothings in your ear.

“fuck colby….almost ….there.. faster… faster” you tried completely full sentences but you’d become weaker by every thrust and became dumb fucked every time his long, thick, dick would push through your fleshy, pudgy walls.

These words kept him going, probably for another hour if you could handle it. You both were so close, and you got closer together.

“colby!.. I can’t hold it.. I.. need to.. come” “fuck, come for me pretty girl, gimme everything .. you got”

you came after hearing these words, and not a minute less so did he. You could hear your heartbeat going 10 beats per second, your cheeks and ears were hot, forehead covered in beads of sweat, your stomach was all wet from your sweat and his cum that flowed up to your stomach. Colby on the other, was also satisfied, still heavy breathing, eyes closed, so mesmerized the way his dick had a full effect on you and how he had you wrapped around his dick. He felt guilty by what he was about to do. He wanted you to be with him but he just couldn’t bring himself to show this other affectionate side of him, (besides the one side where you are having sex)

“alright.. y/n , you can leave now”

you knew those words were coming but they hurt every time you heard them. You wanted to say something to him that enough is enough. That you were done being his fuck buddy.

“Fine.. colby, I’ll go” as you got up and started putting on your clothes, you turned to him, “but this is the last time you and me are doing this, I’m done with these late night booty calls”

you finally confessed

“w-what?” he said confused on why this sudden change

“yeah, I’m done colby, we’ve been doing this for far too long.. it was bound to happen that one of us was going to catch feelings first.. I had to be the first one,, I want to be more than friends with benefits” you exclaimed

“oh my god y/n , we’ve been over that we just fuck for fun, no strings attached. Why can’t you get that wrapped around your fucking head? I want nothing more..” he didn’t mean any of that. He actually did want to be something more, a label, a reason to call you “mine” “girlfriend” “lover” ,, he just didn’t want to .. at that moment”

you were fighting tears and did not want him to see you in this state, you hated being weak. You couldn’t help but spill a few, “fuck you colby, fuck you… everything about yourself, I never should’ve done this in the first place, you were a waste of my fucking time, I never want to see you again” you said wiping the few tears that fell with your middle finger, collecting the last of your things

you slammed the door as you walked your way out

“ yeah! Fucking go! You know your way out!” He yelled

he was so crushed and hated himself for the way this escalated, he cried the entire night.

-; ✧˖*°࿐

days, weeks, have gone by since you and Colby’s argument. you’ve been crying in your room for weeks, that kat had to make a home visit because you wouldn’t answer texts, calls, or tiktok dms.

kat had a copy of your house key, when she finally found it.

“y/n?… it’s me kat!, I’m here to check in you”

she walked around the house noticing very poor hygiene in the kitchen, dirty dishes being piled up, the living, food wrapped and tissues all over, the bathroom all disorganized and dusty. She knew you were badly hurt since you loved staying clean and loved keeping a tidy,clean, refreshing home. Before she found you she helped you by cleaning the kitchen and the living room.

she finally reached your room, knocked on it a couple of times then walking in.

she saw you under the sheets tissues, food wrappers and dirty dishes all scattered around. The smell of alcohol lightly lingering the room.

“Jesus y/n, how are you living in these conditions?” She walks around trying to get to you. “Cmon y/n, talk to me, what happened?”

you obviously have been awake but have been laying in silence.

it took you a while to speak up again, your voice raspy and groggy from all the crying, screaming and the no verbal communication you lacked for weeks

“what didn’t happen, kat. I cut it quits with Colby in hopes he’d finally let me know that he wanted me more than just a fuck. But then again.. he proved me wrong” you said while sitting up

your hair all tangled and greasy, you rubbed your eyes and your face from frustration

“we had a argument and he basically told me I’m delusional and that he’ll never be with me, I was just a fun fuck for him.. nothing more”

“what the fuck? That’s such a douchebag move!, you know what fuck him, there are other guys out there who will love you and will enjoy fucking you with love instead of lust!”

you laugh at her efforts of trying to cheer you up, her positive energy brought some joy and comfort that encouraged you to get out of bed.

“Thanks kat, your definitely cheered me up, I should probably clean my house” “oh! Don’t worry, I cleaned it up for you,just not your bathroom”

“Awh kat you didn’t have to! Thank you so much”

you started to clean your room with the help of kat, you blasted some of your favorite hype music, city girls being on there

as you finished your room and bathroom, kat spoke up

“omg ! Y/n I just remembered one of the guys is having a party ! We’re all going !! Let’s go!!”

you felt good to deny her offer, “sure ! Why not”

“oh. em. gee !!”

-; ✧˖*°࿐

you and kat had finished up the house, and she left to get ready, you got in the shower right after she left. You took a very long hot shower, scrubbed and shaved all over leaving you smooth and clean.

picking the most sluttiest, breathtaking outfit, that insinuated your natural curves and plump features. You chose this specific outfit because you knew that’s the outfit that had Colby on his knees eating you out for the first time. And this would make him regret not having you.

you did your make up, creating a gothic sort of look, a baddie, too high for males to reach.

so satisfied with your look, you finished in time where the party just started

8:47 pm

you arrive to the party, cars filled the drive way and both sides of the street, music loud to be heard outside the house, people hanging outside the house.

You walked in, in hopes to find kat and the rest of your friends.

“omg hey y/n!!” “hey kat!” You guys hug and exchange sweet words on how beautiful you guys look. kat then drags you to the kitchen for a drink. You look around to see any familiar faces, you see many unknown… until you meet with that familiar face you once would give anything for

“hey Katrina” Colby semi-shouted

kat gave you a ‘omg’ look and you tried you’re best to not give up your feelings and let him see you upset. You quickly grabbed a drink from the cooler, a Jamaican me happy seagrass

“oh hey colbs, what’s up” “I was just gonna ask where Sam was” he said while staring at you, up and down.

You knew this dress still had an effect on him, the way he stared at your boobs and while remembering each hickey that was placed there.

It’d be a lie if he said he didn’t miss you (them),

“Oh yeah! he’s over there by the patio” still staring “uh.. thanks”

“he was so staring”

-; ✧˖*°࿐

you were just sipping on all the wine coolers, until you changed up to drinks mixed with hard liquor, the mixture finally got you and the music was too good to not dance to it. You were still conscious and knew what you were doing.

you went to the dance section and started dancing, moving and swaying your hips to the music. doing the white girl dance (where you move your hips and mess up your hair)

you were having a great time until someone pulled you aside. You weren’t quite sure who it was until they dragged you to a bathroom that looked like no one has used yet. It was Colby

“What the hell colby? why did you just drag me to bathroom” “because I’m wanted to talk to you” “couldn’t you have just asked… you know something like 'hey y/n can I talk to you for a sec?'”

“hey y/n can I talk to you for a sec?”

you give him a glare, “okay what”

“I can’t stand at how insanely attractive you look out there dancing”

“thanks… is that all? .. so I can go”

he looked hesitant, scared; if he should just get over with it.

what if it comes out wrong? or if you finally got over him?

He was scared because you truly were the best thing that happened to him and he was an idiot to let that go. He realized he needs you in his life, you are the one true person to get him to get out of bed everyday.

“uh Colby?” You waved a hand over his face to get him back to reality

“Look y/n I don’t know how to use words correctly, clearly… but what I’m trying to say to you is true and it’s coming from the depths of my heart”

you were still puzzled on what he is trying to refer to but you hoped it would involve him finally confessing his feelings to you

“colbs it’s okay”

that nickname.. that nickname always put him in a trance when you say it.

Colby took a deep breath and proceeded to look at you with his icy blue eyes

“y/n I should’ve never let you walk out that night… I wanted to chase after you but I was too much of a coward to go. Y/n you mean everythi- no you are everything to me”

he paused

you were shocked by his words.. trying to come up with something to say quickly before the moment left

“and I- I love you… more then you know. please y/n..”

he grabbed your hands and made you look at him. You were still trying to find words because you felt the same way, you were happy he finally was able to tell you the words you wanted to hear for so long…

“Colby…”

he waited with pleading eyes, finally being able to touch you after what felt like an eternity, but something in your eyes said something else.

“please y/n”

why can’t you say yes? What is holding you from saying yes?! You thought it would be easier now that it was out in the open, but it’s not and it’s hurting you because now you can’t find the words.

“i don’t know what to say”

“say yes…”

your lip trembled, eyes felt watery from the salted tears that were dreading to come out

“but I’m scared… I’m scared to try”

“me too but together we can figure it out, we will work it out because I believe in us. Please y/n I’m begging… let’s try it together”

his words were just the right words to feel at ease, you were scared but if being scared with Colby meant that you would finally be with him. So be it

“okay… let’s try… together”

-; ✧˖*°࿐

don't fucking interrupt me when i'm reading my x reader fics it's rude

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ

summary: Benny gets jealous that boys like to flirt with y/n and y/n makes sure that he doesn’t feel that way

Content tags: sarcasm, jealousy,a bit of yelling/arguing, make out sesh, fluff at the end

- benny w. x reader

——————————————————————————-

"Ethan! I just can’t stand it anymore!" Benny hated how boys would make heart eyes at you, to even snicker comments about your body. He hated how all these boys were savoring his girl.

“ oh cmon Benny, just tell her how you feel, communicate!”

“Ethan … it’s not that simple”, he paced around Ethan’s room thinking about ways to come up with courage to talk about how he feels and wishes you could comfort him to let him know that he’s the only boy in your world

He plops down on the bed and grabs a pillow to scream into it. Giving him some sense of relief. looks up at the ceiling trying to put his thoughts and feelings into words.

“Look Benny don’t sweat it, y/n loves you a lot to do anything to jeopardize your guy’s relationship, you need to trust her and talk to her about it"

“When did you become the love expert? you can’t even talk to Sarah without mixing your words up”

“ I can talk to her !….. just not to ask her out”

“Yeah that’s what I thought”

“Look I’m gonna go home and hopefully sleep it off, I’ll see you tomorrow” Benny walks out, saying his goodbyes to Mr and Mrs Morgan. As Benny is walking home he simply can’t get rid of this itching insecurity that he has.

What if y/n eventually finds someone better than him and she leaves him, or she realizes she can have someone much better. These thoughts ran like crazy in benny’s head.

As he got home, he decided he needed a cold shower to fully relax his body and mind. He did his night routine of playing video games and watching tv. He finally settled in and drifted of to sleep.

-; ✧˖*°࿐

The next morning Benny woke up and dressed up in his dorky clothing and got ready for school, he met up with Ethan

“Hey dude did you sleep well last night?”

“Sorta, I just feel this insecurity that’s she’ll leave me”

as he was saying that, you started to go up to your boyfriend and his friend. While doing so, boys would wolf whistle at you, you enjoyed the attention but all you cared about was the attention of your man. all you did was smile, laugh, and throw in a small hair flip as you walked down the hall. Benny saw this and was already agitated.

“Hey pretty boy, how are you this lovely morning” you asked

“oh it’s been so lovely indeed y/n!” he gestured his hands like a magical princess

“oh? what’s wrong, why are you being like that?” “Being like what? I’m being myself y/n, can’t I not?”

Ethan at this point started to back away slowly, trying to avoid whatever is about to explode at any moment

“woahhh benny, why are you acting like a douche right now? Did I do something wrong? do you wanna talk about it?” You tried not losing your cool

he sighed obnoxiously, “no y/n, I don’t want to talk about it, look I’m going to be late, I’ll see you later” he walked away leaving you annoyed, upset, and confused

“What the fuck?”

-; ✧˖*°࿐

school ended and you wanted to look for Benny in hopes to fix things with him, whatever you think you did, try to fix. you wandered the halls until you bumped into Ethan and Sarah

“Hey guys have you seen Benny, I can’t find him and I just want to talk to him about this morning”

“yeah we just saw him, he just left, he said he was going home.” Ethan said while giving a sympathetic smile

“oh.. well I’m going to catch up to him, thanks guys”

“Of course y/n”

-; ✧˖*°࿐

you got to Benny’s and knocked on his door

knock knock knock

the door opened and it was his grandma

“ hey mrs. weir!, is Benny home?”

“yes he just got home, he seemed a bit upset, hopefully you can help!”

“I wish I can too”

you walked up the stairs to his room and softly knocked on his door, slightly leaning your head towards the door in hopes to hear some noise

“grandma go away, I dont want to talk”

you opened the door slowly, “uh no, it’s me.. I came here to talk”

“I dont”

You were at this point were done, you sat next to him “look I do, I want to know what’s wrong and why you are taking it out on me?” “look y/n-”

“ no Benny, what’s the matter, why can’t you talk to me? I’m trying here and I want to help you because I’m your girlfriend and I’m sorry if I did something, if I’m too bus-“ “THATS IT!”

you stopped talking, shocked at his response

“Because you’re my girlfriend” “what’s that have to do with anything?”

“Y/n you are so perfect and beautiful and smart, all the boys are DYING to have you and be with you, and it makes me feel so bad that these guys can take you away from me, I’m such a loser.. you deserve a guy who meets to your standards.. not like a guy like me,..”

you sighed, caressing his cheek in regards of him looking at you, “benny.. that’s why?” He nodded his head, “benny, you are the only guy for me, I want you.. not those other guys, you are so much better than those jerkoffs, you are smart, funny, and so much more better looking, that’s why I call you my pretty boy”

You slowly get closer to him and continue caressing him, “ I wouldn’t want it any other way bens” he finally looked up at you with watery eyes..

“I love you benny, don’t forget that”

he got even closer, “I love you too”

You two were so close to each other you can feel each others breaths, the tension was there.

You decided to close the gap

you passionately kissed each other while bennys hands started exploring your back, you move your hands to his hair and lightly tug on it receiving little whimpers from him, you lick onto his bottom lip asking for dominance, a bit a of a hassle since he wasn’t giving in but eventually did

This continued on until his grandma opened the door

“I brought some sandwiches in case you guys are- OH MY-“

“GRANDMA!”

you laughed at him and hugged him, enjoying these moment with him

-; ✧˖*°࿐

i should be reviewing for my exams later, but here am i, typing fictional men names and adding an x reader into it.

I literally wrote a WHOLE ASS fic about Benny weir , so good and lots of effort and that bitch did not save and now I have to restart… give me another week guys 😐

The devil works hard but fanfic writers work harder

Ps. Y’all are amazing and the most creative writers ❤︎. keep up the amazing work ✩