#and everyone will react to/express that differently

[that-one-girl2020]

There is a theory going on about how Rumi’s father might have been a very powerful demon considering how her energy was the only one that affected the honmoon not even when Jinu screamed in his demon voice the barrier was not affected.

So considering the latest story, and the boys being either very old or born in the demon realm (based on your story) how would they react if one of them recognized who was Rumi and readers father?

A Father’s Love (AU)

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader

A/N: Okay, this is a mixture of two requests, the one above and another anonymous asked for how it would be if their father was actually alive and imprisoned by Gwi Ma or sealed away by Celine but escaped during the showdown with Your Idol x What It Sounds Like. I didn’t mean to make this angst since my role reversal has so much angst going on, but it kind of ended up being hurt/comfort.

Synopsis: Your father was a powerful demon during his time in the demon realm, the boys remembering who he was while looking at your baby photos at the Hunters’ House. And then a dead man shows up. (This is a continuation of Baby Photos.)

CW: Hurt/comfort, crying, reunions, Celine sucks, Gwi Ma’s manipulative antics, imprisonment.

Word Count: 3.2k

Master List || Baby Photos

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, Abby = Kwan)

Moments ago, you had discovered the box of memories that your parents had left behind for you. The nine of you huddled together around the box in the den of the Hunters’ House, looking through photos of the mom and dad you had never gotten the chance to really know.

You all looked up when Jum suddenly muttered, his voice different from the cooing awe that everyone’s tones had taken on. “Wait… I think I know him…”

Rumi blinked, shaking her head in shock, “Wait, what? What do you mean?”

Jum just frowned, squinting harder at the image of your dad, “He’s familiar, I can’t quite remember where I know him from…”

The other boys frowned as well, looking harder at the pictures to see if they recognized the demon man as well. They tilted their heads this way and that, holding the photos closer and farther as the four of you watched the guys with baffled expressions.

“Yong…?” Kwan eventually murmured to himself. And then it seemed like the utterance of the name made something click or unlocked something because he perked up, his face brightening with realization. “Yong! I remember now!”

And then it seemed to click with the rest of the guys, their voices drawling with remembrance as their memories returned.

“‘Yong’?” You echoed expectantly, Rumi and you sitting up straighter at the prospect of learning more about your dad.

Chungae nodded, “Yong was a very powerful and old demon, from the time of the first Hunters.”

Mira muttered under her breath, “With a name like that, it’s to be expected I guess…” Usually the name meant brave or courageous but could also be interpreted as perpetual, eternal, or dragon.

You blinked, turning to Rumi, “Does this mean both our parents were dragons in some way? Mom’s last name was ‘Ryu’ after all…”

Zoey gasped, “That would make you their little dragon-lings! Dragonets? Hatchlings…?”

The boys continued on, “He was very strong, famous,” Hyeon noted, voice quiet with memories, with respect in his voice.

“Strong enough that even Gwi Ma was weary of him,” Kwan chimed in to explain. “Especially as his power waned with the lack of souls being consumed by him. It’s kind of badass that he’s your dad.”

“He was very cold but also very kind at times,” Jum added. “I honestly don’t think it’s that surprising that he’s the demon that first fell in love with a Hunter.”

Jinu continued, “He disappeared about two decades ago, no one knew where he went. It was thought that he may have been killed by Hunters but there was no way to know for certain. A few years later, Gwi Ma must have locked our memories of him away.”

Zoey frowned, her shoulders sagging sadly, “That must have been around the time that he…”

You and Rumi looked down, intertwining your hands together for comfort and leaning against each other. It was a reminder that you would never really get to know your dad as well as you could. You had this journal now, and all these photos. But, it felt lacking in comparison to all the stories Celine had always gone on about and the videos of your mom that still floated around today.

Your partners traded looks around you, scooting closer to the two of you and offering what comfort they could. “We’re sorry girls. We wish we could tell you more…” Jinu voiced softly.

You shook your head, “No, you guys shouldn’t be apologizing. We just wish that we had gotten to know him—both of them.”

Rumi nodded her head against yours in agreement, “Yeah. But we’re also just so glad that we have you guys with us.”

The nine of you left the box for a while as you all emotionally recharged, piling together in tangled limbs and soft touches.

~~~

Somewhere, a figure stumbled, lost in a place that was both familiar and yet not at all. The figure was weak, head dazed and heart aching. Skin slowly healed over, leaving behind deep scars.

~~~

You needed some space. You loved your three sisters and your boyfriends, but this trip had just been one emotional rollercoaster after the next for you. You just wanted a little bit of air. You didn’t know why but you took one of the pictures with you, not looking at it until you got to the tree—the tree of ribbons from past Hunters.

You sat at the base of the tree, beneath its branches. You looked at the picture you had taken with you. It seemed like mom had snuck dad here at one point because there they were. A blanket spread out beneath the tree, ribbons waving in the sunlit breeze around them, mom and dad sat under the shade of the tree, his arm around her waist and pulling her close, his lips against her cheek as she was caught mid laugh.

They had really loved each other. You wished you knew more of what your dad was like. Everyone kept saying that you looked like him, Celine always said you were just like him, but in what ways? Did you laugh the same? Was it the way you took care of others? Was it your tempers? You would argue that you were more like your mom, falling in love with demons the way you had, you thought wryly to yourself.

You looked up when you heard branches moving unnaturally, not in the way they would with the wind, all at once, but just a few. You stood, listening carefully and for once thanking your demonic genetics for the enhanced senses. Slowly, you circled around the thick tree, the picture held carefully in your hand.

Your eyes narrowed at the trees, trying to see what was coming towards you—and whatever it was, was definitely coming towards you. You briefly thought about going to get one of the others, but you would’ve felt embarrassed if it just turned out to be a wounded fox or something.

You quickly took that thought back when a man stumbled out of the shadows. But it wasn’t just a man as demon patterns flickered across his skin as he leaned against a tree.

“Hello…?” That wasn’t a smart thing to do. What are you? The dumb person in every slasher movie? Every horror movie? What kind of brain just goes ‘Hello…?’? You almost smacked yourself. You were trying not to jump to conclusions, okay!

The man looked up and even from there you could tell that his eyes weren’t really seeing you clearly. His eyes were narrowed and his pupils kept dilating weirdly. You slowly took a few steps closer to see if you could help him in some way when his labored breathing stuttered in his chest. “Miyeong…?”

This time, you’re the one that falters. How did he know that name? Why did he look at you and see her instead? When everyone around you always said that you looked like your dad, how was it that this man took a dazed glance at you and saw your mom?

You looked closer and you realized you know those features. The curve of his jaw, the angle of his nose, the narrow of his eyes, the twitch of his lips. Because you had seen those features everyday, you just never realized it. Everyday, in the mirror, you saw the same curve of a jaw, the same angle of a nose. And looking at your sister, you recognized the same narrow of the eyes, the same twitch of the lips. And you realized you had just been looking at those features, studying them so carefully in the picture in your hand.

Suddenly, you felt like you were a child again. Like you were still that little girl who drew on her patterns, who sang in the breeze, who giggled in the night, who wanted her parents to read to her, to kiss her forehead, to laugh with her and soothe her and hold her and just be with her and her sister.

“Appa…?” You called, hesitantly. Your heart raced with equal mixtures of fear and hope. Had you lost your mind? Was this some figment of your imagination created after you saw an image of both your parents for the first time? Would he disappear?

Meanwhile, the world snapped into startling clarity for Yong, but also all at once, blurred until all he could see was you. He would recognize those eyes anywhere. The last he had seen them, they were set into a little face with chubby cheeks, little claws grasping at his fingers and clumsily filling in the space between his pattern with markers. You were so much bigger now but he would recognize one of his girls anywhere.

“(Y/n)…?”

You choked, scrambling towards him with desperate grasping hands, scared to touch him just for him to disappear under your touch but also having to know that he was real and that he was there. “Appa!”

You almost fell as you ran to him but you landed in his arms, wrapping so tightly and so safely around you. A scent you didn’t know you missed filled your nose as you pressed your face into his chest. “Appa!” You cried, tears wetting his black robes. The two of you sank to your knees, and he held you in his arms the whole time, his face pressed into your hair, his hand cradling the back of your head to him carefully. He held you just as tight as you held him, as if he was also scared that you would disappear.

“(Y/n). Oh, my little moon dragon,” Yong mumbled, his chest rumbling with his own cries and he kissed the crown of your head. You could feel tears wetting your hair and you heard him breathe in deeply. He needed this just as much as you did. “My baby, you’ve gotten so big…” It seemed to only make him cry harder.

“Appa…” You cried. It seemed to be all you could say.

He suddenly took a sharp breath in, pulling away to look at you, wiping your tears softly as he scanned your face, “Where’s your sister? And your mother, are they both alright? How long has it been?”

You froze. He didn’t know. “Appa…” You began slowly, softly. “Mama died almost two decades ago, when we thought you died too…”

He stared through you for a moment, no longer seeing you. He began to fold into himself. “No… Miyeong…” You let him mourn, let him be swallowed by grief for just a moment, leaning your head against his shoulder just to physically remind him that you were there with him.

After a moment, he just quietly asked, “And Rumi? Is she alright?”

You nodded, “She’s fine, she’s back at the House with the others… Our seven friends.” There was no way you were dropping the bomb of a fact that his two daughters had two and five partners each. Not right now.

Yong simply nodded, standing with a sniff, “Come,” He said, helping you stand and tucking your arm into his side tightly. “Let’s go see your sister.”

You followed him quietly. “Will you be okay…?”

He nodded slowly, “Maybe. I thought I had lost all three of you all that time ago. When I saw you, I had hoped that you had all survived, but…” He trailed off. You worried for a moment that he would break, shatter in your hold. But then he looked at you and gave you a simple, sad smile, “Knowing you and your sister still live is enough for me. Our precious stars.”

You sniffed, you almost started crying. You stopped outside the door for a moment, “Um, this weekend has been really emotionally taxing for us so let me just talk to her first and make sure she’s good, okay?”

A flicker of concern edged at his expression but he nodded slowly, “Whatever you think is best, moonlight.”

This was a lot of nicknames. Did Rumi have as many nicknames as you did from your parents? Was it just a dad thing? Anyway, you just took a deep breath and entered the House, heading to the den where everyone still seemed to be, looking at photos of you and your parents. You gestured for your dad to wait out of sight and slid your head around the doorway with an awkward grin. “Hey, Rumi…?”

She looked at you suspiciously, everyone turning to look at you with confusion. Especially at how guilty you sounded and looked. “Yeah…?”

“You know how we’ve had a lot of emotionally draining things happen this weekend?”

“Yeahhh…” She drawled, her eyes narrowing and, wow, it looked a lot like the way dad’s eyes had narrowed earlier.

“I found another one…” You hissed with awkwardly bared teeth.

She made a confused expression at you, one eyebrow raised, “Another what?”

“Another emotionally draining thing…”

“(Y/n)…” She sighed, dragging a hand down her face. She huffed, looking at you. “Am I going to cry?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Will it be worth it?”

“Yeah.”

She relented, dropping her head, “Okay, bring it in.”

“Okay.”

You entered the room, gesturing to your dad to join you. You awkwardly smiled again, “I found Dad…”

Rumi dropped the journal she had been reading through again. The whole room was silent, looking back and forth between you and your dad and Rumi with wide eyes. Wide eyed and with a trembling lip, Rumi slowly stood. Step by step, she approached the man, reaching out with a shaking hand to take his and squeeze it experimentally, trembling.

“You’re real…?” She whispered disbelievingly.

Yong nodded softly, his eyes wet and his breath stuttering just as much. “I am, sunlight.”

Her voice wobbled tearfully, “And you’re not some shape shifting demon sent by Gwi Ma to trick us?” She asked hopefully.

He barked out an incredulous laugh, “No, my little sun dragon, I’m not.”

With a cry, Rumi fell into his arms and the two sank to the floor, crying, a reflection of your own reunion with your dad earlier. “Appa…!” Rumi pressed her face to his chest, her fingers clutching at the fabric of his robes. “You’re here…!”

Your lip wobbled, your chest tightening and yet releasing all at once as you sank to your knees to join them, wrapping your arms around your sister as your dad’s other arm circled around you two so he could hold both his daughters in his arms for the first time in almost two decades.

He pressed long kisses to the crowns of your heads, wet and lingering, “Oh, my darling girls, our little stars, you’ve both grown so much…”

The three of you sat there for a long time, sniffling and just holding each other. Rumi pulled away just enough to look up at him, she laughed wetly, wiping her cheeks, “You really do look a lot like (Y/n)…”

You snorted, it was actually kinda gross and you regretted it, “I think I’m the one that resembles him. Besides, you have little ticks that make you look like him.”

“Let me see,” Your dad said, turning you both to look at him as his thumb brushed over your cheeks. He looked at you both for a long moment. Then he smiled, “All I see when I look at the both of you is your mother and, yet at the same time, all I see are the two women you’ve both grown to be. All on your own.”

Rumi and you shared a smile.

Your sister looked down, frowning unsurely as she bit her lip. “Dad? Where’ve you been? What happened…?”

Yong sighed. “That night, both the Hunters and the demons came. Gwi Ma ordered for you both to be brought to the demon realm. He thought that two demons with the blood of Hunters in them would finally be able to defeat the Hunters. Your mother and I protected you both. But the Hunters arrived and attacked indiscriminately. Your mother was injured protecting my blind spot and when I was distracted, a Hunter almost killed me but a demon pushed me through a crack in the seal. I think it died in my place. I didn’t know what had happened to the two of you or your mother but I was brought before Gwi Ma. He was enraged that I had escaped his influence, and ignored his whispers. He wanted me to suffer so he locked me beneath his mountain, forcing terrible visions of the three of you dying into my mind over and over again.”

He paused, his eyes far away as he relived what he had gone through, what he had been put through. You and Rumi huddled closer to him, reminding him that you both were there. He smiled sadly at the both of you, taking your hands in his. He continued.

“I’m not sure how long ago it was, but suddenly, I could hear a voice every now and then, rumbling through the Honmoon, angry and hurt and scared. But it loosened the chains on me, little by little and I could think clearer again. Then the Honmoon crumbled and my mind was clear and I heard… singing. I thought it was Miyeong at first. But then there was this humming that joined the singing and the chains shattered and I was able to escape the demon realm right before this new Honmoon became sealed. My mind was a little dazed from Gwi Ma’s influence though and I started making my way here out of instinct.”

Rumi and you looked at each other, sharing a look. Had her voice been strong enough to reach your dad all the way in the demon realm? Was it some kind of familial bond? Was it strengthened when you gave your soul to Rumi and that was what finally shattered his chains?

“Uh, Dad…?” You began hesitantly.

“That might have been us…” Rumi finished slowly.

He looked between the two of you curiously but openly, “What do you mean?”

Rumi shrugged shyly, “Well, I had some issues with my voice before the Honmoon was sealed… My patterns were spreading up my throat and I was having trouble singing. I got frustrated a few times and my voice would affect the Honmoon in ways that scared me…”

You took her hand and squeezed it supportively. “It all coalesced into a final show down, a song that created and sealed this new Honmoon. It came with a few sacrifices though…”

“(Y/n), she sacrificed her life and her soul for me and it gave me—it gave us the final piece we needed to seal the Honmoon. We were stronger together,” Rumi smiled, squeezing your hand.

Your dad had concerns, you both could tell. There were probably a lot of red flags in the spots you both were brushing over in your story. But he just smiled and looked at you both with enough pride to warm your chests and make you sit up straighter, “You girls are so strong. Your mother would be so proud of you both.”

It was just a start. You had so much more to tell him: about the Saja Boys, the way you grew up with Celine, Rumi’s career with Mira and Zoey, your solo debut that was in the works, so many little things and big things. But for now, you all were just content to sit together and just remind yourselves that you were all really there with each other. And whether you knew it or not, your mother was with you too.

A/N: I think I put too much thought into character names. Like, I name characters based on the meaning of the name. I have to research names and their meanings before I officially give a character a name. I did the same with the boys in my original KPDH short series. I think I chose ‘Yong’ because of it’s eternal/perpetual interpretations but I also liked it because of it’s dragon connotations so I could make Rumi and reader their baby dragons, their little sun and moon dragons, two halves of the same coin.

Outtakes:

Yong: “There’s a lot of pretty young adults here, which ones are dating my daughters…?”

You and Rumi: *red faced and face palming* “Dad, you’ve been here not even thirty minutes…”

Saja Simps, Mira, Zoey: *Panicking* “Uhhhh, they are!”

Saja Simps, Mira, Zoey: *Mira is pointing and Zoey and vice versa* *Saja Boys all pointing at one each other*

You and Rumi: *crossed arms* “Wow. Ya’ll really just threw each other under the bus. Thanks, we feel so loved.”

Saja Simps, Mira, Zoey: *tripping over themselves to apologize to you two*

Yong: *rubbing his hands, eyes glowing, pupils slit, fangs grinning* “Welp. Time for seven different shovel talks. I can be creative.”

Saja Simps, Mira, Zoey: “Please don’t be too creative…”

…

You: “Yeah… Celine kind of wanted to kick me out when I was a child because I couldn’t connect to the Honmoon…”

Yong: *blinking at the audacity* “I’m sorry, I think I heard wrong, Celine wanted to what?”

Rumi: *fully throwing Celine under the bus* “She wanted to kick (Y/n) out as a child because she couldn’t connect to the Honmoon. And she kept (Y/n) from following her dreams for the past decade and a half about.”

Yong: “I see. And where is Celine at this moment?”

You: “…”

You: “Dad, what’re you gonna do with that…?”

Yong: “Don’t worry about it. Where’s Celine sweetie?”

…

You: “Hey Dad…?”

Yong: “Yes, moonlight?”

You: “Can I draw on your patterns…?” *🥺👉🏻👈🏻*

Yong: *Almost dies of cuteness overload* “Only if I can draw on yours too, sweetie!” *already looking for markers*

Saja Simps: *looking at their giant box of skin safe markers, paint, pens, and stickers* “No fair but we can’t argue…”

…

Tag List: @brights-place @itmechaosartist @reni502 @chin-chii @cultish-corner @enerofairy @mama-m1na @akariis4snowball @gremlinartstudio @shynotded @shadowmoonlight0604 @omgsuperstarg @neigesprincess @sleep-7372 @hurts-my-brain @kiwibackie @gh0stied3ath @naysha140 @theferretkids @lelantyuu @sexyindependentdowntospendit @hornehlittleweeblet2 @moonymoo1 @moochiwoochi @cheolright @crescent-z @prorpy @mey-archive @cami1qx @nerdalicios @xxsadlovexx @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @blackheart34 @anonymousewrites @scarletrosesposts @justanindiangirl12 @beexboo @tatsuri-zomushiki @call-me-nyxx @queenofviolenceandnerds @randomfan218-blog @jaybbygrl @unholycheesesnack @ocean-mochi @iviorienne @confusedparticle @otakusimp1 @nosbaby07 @fries11 @ri-eveowe @1950schick @libdarkheart @yourjustassaneasiamx @the-bookish-artist @anduinandwrathionlover @eternallyrosyfire @lysira340 @lansy-4 @strayharmony943 @maximumtrashchild @bleufu1 @minepugs @valeriele3 @arieslucy @nisarelle @suzieq1948374 @esposamultifandom

[thewayilikemycookie]

🎞️┆True Gentleman .ᐟ

Spencer Agnew x gn!reader

Summary: When you jokingly die during a gentleman games video, Spencer breaks character to make sure you’re okay.

Word count: 766

You love Spencer Agnew and of all his weird characters. You love The Chosen, John D Bad, Fred Darts, Broody, etc, etc. However, one character definitely stood out between all the others: Gentleman Spencer.

Gentleman Spencer was always the one who got you to break the most. Whenever he got into that suit and grabbed the top hat, it’s like he became a completely different person, with a completely different mindset.

You believed that part of what you found so amusing about Gentleman Spencer was how incredibly opposite he was from the real one. Your boyfriend was a soft and loving nerd that would make stories up about your stuffed animals. So, of course, the complete absurdity of his gentleman personality made you automatically break character.

This is why when you saw “Gentleman Throw Throw Burrito” written on your schedule with Angela, Trevor, Spencer and you as cast, you almost jumped out from excitement, already anticipating the chaotic energy.

After waiting all day for the shoot block to come, it was finally time.

“Hello Gentleman, welcome, everyone, we gather here today to Throw Throw a Burrito” Angela faced the camera as she said the intro dramatically, complete with a British accent “We want to find matches and throw out cards like duel, then people will have to duel… with the burrito”

“Yes” Trevor laughed

“Amazing intro, Sir Angela” Spencer didn’t break character, saying it with total seriousness, which made you burst out laughing

“It’s Sir. Cognac Buttarack to you” The fact that you guys were already gasping for air while laughing at the start of the video was telling

You stated off with a ‘Burrito Brawl’, where Angela hit Trevor in the head and made his hat fall off. The game was going well for you, you were winning a lot of ‘burrito confrontations’ and your cheeks and belly were hurting by this point.

Suddenly, Angela called out a burrito duel between you and Spencer “Okay, here we go” you didn’t know why, but you simply couldn’t stop laughing

“You okay?” Trevor asked, reacting to your breakdown

“What? This is like me with Sanguinis Wenis” Angela was also crying from laughter

“Guys, we have to get our shit together” Spencer said in between giggles “Okay, y/n, let’s do it”

“Someone count us down” You were still laughing

“Alright, three, two one, duel!” Angela shouted with a British accent

As Spencer turned around to face you, you started running immediately, but your lack of breath from laughing so much slowed you down.

“Wait! Wait, don’t!” You tried calling for mercy, but Spencer didn’t show any for you

He threw the plastic burrito in your direction and it happened to hit your head directly. You dramatically fell to the ground, pretending like your head got painfully struck.

Within a second, Spencer was by your side, acting as if you were dying. You were legitimately gasping for air, the gas leak energy getting to your head.

After a few seconds filled with laughter, Spencer’s voice got low and he dropped the accent “You okay?” He asked and you nodded. You noticed him caressing your shoulder “You sure?”

“Yup” You smiled at him breaking character

“Yeah? Cause that fall looked a little too real” His voice was still low and his body was leaning into you, making it feel like you were having your own moment

“I’m good Spence” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a soft smile

“Alright” Your eye contact lingered and he took a moment to look at your expression. After he confirmed you didn’t hurt yourself, he looked back to the Board AF table with the British accent “You know, this actually reminds me of me of this one time, in the amazon…”

The video went on with the chaotic energy continuing all throughout, but you couldn’t stop the thought of your boyfriend and how sweet he was. Every time Spencer made a gentleman joke, you thought about how he could break character in a second for you.

After the shoot was over, you were still giddy from the antics you and the cast pulled. You looked at Spencer, still in his costume, and your heart filed with love. The emotion made you giggle.

“What?” He asked, growing a smile just from seeing yours

“Nothing” You answered with a soft smile

“Do you wanna come over today?” he walked over to your seat

“Yess” You intertwined your fingers with his and he took your gentleman hat off to kiss your forehead

You smiled, feeling extremely loved by your sweet boyfriend.

A.n: not feeling great about this, but I’m working on a bigger series, so this is just to fill the time. Hope you have a great day/night!!

[zarathegachiakutafox]

Currently taking a break due to the Helluva Boss/Urana situation.

Just a proviso: do not harass Urana, and do not harass Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel/Vivzie critical folks, either.

Personally, my numbness in regards to Urana's enjoyment of the series, and the resulting doubts regarding how I should engage with Gachiakuta now, is not because of how "cringe" Helluva Boss is but because of worse stuff regarding Vivzie herself, but maybe Urana is not aware of it or does not follow it as closely. I have found many people have no clue certain content creators have been assholes/discriminatory. Some people are consumers first and foremost despite any beliefs they might hold, so keeping away from the drama is a natural response for many. This deserves criticism, but that criticism should not come into the form of harassment, and it needs to come into a greater context since it is a mindset that is very difficult to shake off.

The fact that I haven't established connections with other Gachiakuta fans here is making me feel lonely when it comes to my decision to suspend activity here, and in regards to how I should approach this, especially because I am afraid of making people upset with my opinion in regards to what happened... I am also a bit reserved until someone else comes and breaks the ice with me, which is why I haven't made friends yet.

Some people can be bummed out about Urana's preferences, and still enjoy the world they created in Gachiakuta. We should be allowed some nuance on this. It's not like they endorsed JKR, Gaiman or Kanye West, though Vivzie HAS done bad stuff. They simply said they liked Helluva Boss. This could have been approached much differently and without causing Urana to eliminate the tweet and react by posting in outright support of Helluva Boss being on Amazon Prime... Which is worse IMO (but that's due to the fact that I hate how Amazon is monopolizing everything ffs; seriously stop riding the wave of Amazon).

Do not harass Urana and focus on critically consuming content instead. It's what works best for everyone involved. Not everything needs an heavy reaction, just try and be aware of what you are looking at without automatically assuming everyone else looking at it has your same knowledge of it, or that they are scum (This is directed mostly at other Vivziepop critical folks out there).

Idk if the people answering her tweet only pointed at her because they think the shows are nasty or cringe, or if there were some of them who simply know about Vivziepop's issues and so that's why they expressed disappointment. Just writing this out here because regardless, that energy could have been spent somewhere else.

Writing this here also because I feel it deserves its own post and not just a reblog. And because while one has the freedom to express themselves on the Internet, one should use it.

Signed, a Vivziepop critical idiot who is tired of everything

EDIT: Received a comment telling me I should fuck myself and that I am responsible for people being sent death threats because "I do not actually promote criticism but hatred".

When. Where. I did not say "I hate every Hazbin/Helluva fan, I want them to suffer". I NEVER said it. I have never wanted to promote hatred, just criticism. Most of the Vivzie critical people I have interacted with are the same. I agree there are bad apples, but I am not one of them.

The comment I received was, of course, erased. But lemme tell you something:

I am not mad. I get why some fans are defensive. Heck, most fans of media get upset, and/or defensive, when some problematic stuff about the content creator gets unearthed. I get that, I was the same with Genshin during the cultural representation issues. That does not mean people should be barred from expressing their own opinion and criticizing things, especially when there seems to be ground to do so?

Criticism can be a tricky subject, I agree. Sometimes people go too far. Death threats? Gore art being mailed? Awful! Bad! But not all people who are being critical about Vivzie are doing this shit!

Equating people asking conscious questions and trying to be aware of controversies with people sending death threats isn't right, because you are generalizing! I am not generalizing Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel as pricks, though I have noticed a tendency to get defensive... Why should Vivzie critical folks be generalized as hateful assholes with no evidence when that is not true?!

Please. I will keep being level on this, but do not accuse me of stuff I have not done. I will never condone death threats and harassment. Either towards fans, or non-fans. There are constructive ways to handle things. And criticism should be allowed.

EDIT EDIT: OOK another comment calling me a moron! Fantastic! Great!

I am still not mad. I am calm with the power of a thousand suns. Thanks for eliminating immediately after writing BTW, only makes you look more annoying and spineless. And I say this while absolutely peachy friend. Just peachy. I am here sipping my boba tea and reading Gachiakuta's latest chap and not giving a shit aside from laughing at you. If you write again I can even warn people about how much of a coward you are. Your choice.

And if someone says "seems like you do care though" yes. I care about making you guys know that I know what you are doing. Ya ain't slick. Throwing stones and hiding behind the corner. Guilty behavior I tell you.

[chronologicalimplosion]

[[Meme ID:

1- A stock image of a hand pointing at the viewer that says "You. Autism."

2- A screenshot of Monkey D. Luffy in a large parka pointing at the viewer that says "You. Autism."

End ID]]

It has just now occurred to me that what’s “visibly on the spectrum” is wildly different for autistic and allistic people. Most allistics don’t recognize autistic behavior (at all or anything more that weird/quirky) unless it impacts their ability to interface with an autistic person. That’s when allistics see someone as visibly on the spectrum. Other autistics can spot each other from a mile a way though over minor stuff.

For example every allistic I’ve ever worked with has told me “oh but you’re sooo good at socializing with people?!? I could neverrrr tell?!?!” If they learned I’m autistic.

However other autistic people meet me and are like: YOU. AUTISM.

[mageless]

Every single shot of taskmaster that shows all five contestants at once is a work of art to me. Hang that shit in a museum.

[luciphe-r]

i have had to start interacting with boomers the way my biologist mom interacts with her algae

[ninisdollie]

kiss it better - nishimura riki 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

“In which reader teaches her dear friend how to treat a woman right. Or in which reader teaches ni-ki how to give head” 

‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ Content: +18MDNI

fem! reader x ni-ki, friends to lovers, usage of riki and ni-ki, oral sex (f. rec), masturbation (f), reader is in charge, fingering, spitting, face riding, needy! ni-ki, pussy drunk! ni-ki (he’s a mess) grinding, coming undone, slight voye.

hate comments will be deleted and blocked !! likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

Summer trip was always fun with your friend group. But this year was one of your favourites, there was nothing like spending the day on a tanning bed beneath the burning sun, chewing on fresh watermelon after a dive in the beautiful clear waters of the ocean, surrounded by your favorite people in the whole world. 

The hotel pool glowed under the summer night, wrapped in string lights and the kind of drunken laughter that only came when everyone forgot about the world outside vacation. Music pulled from a speaker, bass steady. The air smelled like sunscreen and chlorine and you were tasting something fruity on your tongue from the drink you just finished. 

You had just slid back into the water, the chill clinging to your skin as you moved through the shallow end. Your bikini hugged your body, still damp from earlier, and your hair stuck to your shoulders in soft waves. Most of your friends where on the deck now, draped across pool chairs or sprawled on towels, passing a bottle of tequila back and forth and yelling about nonsense. 

Ni-ki was the only one still on the water. 

He floated on his back with his eyes closed, legs lazily moving to keep him afloat, looking so relaxed like he didn’t have a single care in the world. So him. 

You swam closer, water swirling around your waist, and nudged his side with your hand. 

“You’ll drown” 

“Let me.” He murmured, not even opening his eyes “Feels like a good way to go.” 

A small laugh left your lips. 

“Dramatic.” 

Ni-ki opened one eye then, just enough to flash you a lazy smile 

“Says the girl who almost cried when we splashed on her drink.” 

“That was an expensive drink.” 

“You’re expensive” He shot back, quickly. 

That caught you off guard, and you blinked. 

It wasn’t even that serious, just Ni-ki being Ni-ki. But still, it stuck. Hit something strange and sudden in your chest. Maybe it was the way he said it, or the way his gaze lingered a bit too long before flicking away. You’d always thought he was cute. Objectively, anyways. It wasn’t like you were blind, Ni-ki was tall and lean and had that perfect face that made even simple hoodies and cotton sweatpants look good. He was your friend, sure, you’d known him for years now. The same friend that threw up on your lap in Sunghoon’s backseat last summer, the same friend that stole your notes because he never did his homework on time. But that never stopped the thoughts that stuck in your head sometimes, thoughts you never let stay. 

But for some reason, tonight felt different. 

He ducked under the water suddenly, disappearing from your view. You barely had time to react before strong hands grabbed your waist from behind and lifted you with a splash, so easily. 

You shrieked, laughing, trying to escape. 

“Ni-ki!” 

He just laughed, breathless and smug as you turned and splashed him back, right in the face. You were both soaked now, your bikini clinging tighter to your tanned skin, water streaming down your neck. 

Ni-ki was still close, enough to feel the warmth radiating off him even in the cool water. His hands already dropped from your waist, but you could still feel them. 

You felt your breathing shake as your eyes met his. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite name. Like heavy and charged. 

Then he blinked, swam backwards, and said casually. 

“Alright. I’m bored.” 

You barely had time to ignore the feeling before Heeseung called out from his chair, arms spread like he was announcing something big. 

“Let’s play a game.” He said “Truth or dare.” 

Jake made a face. 

“We always do that. I’ve lost the count on the amount of times I’ve licked Sunghoon’s neck” 

Your friends laughed at him, and you chuckled under your breath. 

“Never have I ever then. Loser has to buy all our drinks tomorrow.” 

Groans followed, but no one said no. You all gathered near the edge, some wrapped in towels and half-drunk already. 

You ended up sitting next to Ni-ki, still damp, still trying to ignore the echo of his hands on your waist. 

The game started innocent as always. 

“Never have I ever lied to a date.” 

“Never have I ever faked an orgasm”

“Never have I ever cheated” 

The group slowly loosened between sips, laughter and more laughter, getting louder and messier by the second. 

“Okay, I have one.” Heeseung then leaned in, grinning. “Never have I ever gone down on someone” 

A few hands went up, including yours. 

You didn’t look around, didn’t think much of it, but then you noticed that Ni-ki didn’t move. 

He just sat there, calm, fingers tapping slowly on the ground. Then you turned your head. 

“Wait, seriously?” 

He looked at you, then shrugged. 

“Yeah.” 

Heeseung just stared. 

“Wait wait wait - you’ve never gone down on a girl?” 

Ni-ki shook his head. 

“Nope.” 

Sunoo gasped, hand flying to his chest 

“What? Riki, oh my god!” 

Heeseung was already laughing 

“Bro. That’s practically illegal.”

Jake leaned in like he was interrogating him. 

“You scared of it or something?” 

Ni-ki scoffed and pushed him. 

“Shut up.” 

Sunghoon smirked

“So, what’s the reason?” 

Ni-ki leaned back on his elbows, his expression unreadable. He didn’t look embarrassed, but he didn’t look thrilled by their teasing either. You didn’t expect it, to be honest, Ni-ki wasn’t exactly a playboy, but he wasn’t a saint either, you’d seen him a thousand times shoving down his tongue in random girls throats at parties. 

“I just haven’t found the right person yet.” 

That only made the boys laugh louder. Heeseung clutched his chest and someone said something about how he was a ��certified mouth virgin”. 

You watched Ni-ki stay still through it all, quiet. 

Something in your chest pulled tight, and you sat up a little straighter. 

“Okay, enough.” You said, cutting through the noise “What are we? Twelve?” 

The group quieted a little, eyes turning to you. 

“He’s just waiting for the right person, that’s not a bad thing.”  You glanced at Ni-ki, met his eyes again. He looked back at you like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or grab your hand. “It’s not that deep. Honestly, most guys think they know how to do it, just doing it doesn’t mean you’re good at it.” 

Ni-ki still hadn’t looked away from you. 

But as the group moved on, laughing at the next prompt, the air between you didn’t shift back. It felt heavier.

The hotel was quiet now, after the chaos of earlier. You could still hear faint laughter from somewhere down the hall, someone’s speaker muffled behind the closed doors, but for the most part, you started to settle. 

Your skin smelled like sunscreen and coconut from your body spray as you stood at the sink in your oversized tee and underwear, hair half-damp and twisted into a towel, the bathroom mirror foggy from your shower. Your limbs ached in a satisfying way that only summer could bring. 

You were just about to crawl into bed when the knock came. 

One, two, three soft raps, hesitant. 

You froze for a second, staring at your reflection wondering who could it be this late at night. Then you padded across the room and peeked through the peephole, opening the door without thinking. 

Ni-ki stood there, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, hair damp and curling slightly around his ears. 

“Hey.” He said. 

You blinked, a bit surprised about his visit and the unsettling look on his face. 

“Hey. Everything okay?” 

He nodded, but didn’t move. 

Then you stepped back, opening the door a little wider.

“Wanna come in?” 

He didn’t answer, just walked in, quiet, his presence filling your small hotel room instantly. You shut the door behind him, suddenly too aware of how you were dressed, and the silence between you two. 

He looked around, then sat on the edge of the bed like he’d done it a thousand times before. 

But now it felt different. 

“You good?” You asked again, crossing your arms trying to play it cool. 

He nodded again, slower this time. 

“Yeah. I just… couldn’t sleep.” 

You leaned against the dresser, watching him. He was staring at the carpet, then at his hands. Then up at you. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.” He admitted and your heart thudded. 

“What part?” 

“That it’s not about doing it, it’s about knowing how to treat someone.” He paused. “No one’s ever said that to me before.” 

You swallowed, his voice was lower now, like each word was deliberate. 

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you” you said. 

“I wasn’t embarrassed.” He replied “I just… never talked about it out loud.” 

There was a long pause, and you waited, but he didn’t look away. 

“I think that’s why I came here.” 

Your pulse skipped. 

“To talk?” you asked, even thought you were sure that wasn’t what he meant. 

He smiled a little but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Kind of.” 

You stepped a little closer before you could overthink it, the soft carpet sinking under your feet. You were standing between his knees now, and he was looking up at you from the edge of the bed. 

“Riki” You said softly “Why did you come here?” 

You knew the answer.

But the silence that followed cracked open something between you, something thick and heavy and real. You felt it settle over your shoulders, wrap around your ribs. Your skin prickled with awareness, his breath, your proximity, the weight of what you weren’t saying.

“Because I want to know what it’s like.”

Your breathed deep. 

“What what’s like?”

His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. 

“To be with someone who actually wants to teach me. Who doesn’t think I’m weird for not knowing. Who… wants me to get it right.”

You stared at him.

He wasn’t smiling now. He wasn’t teasing. He looked serious, vulnerable, even. And it did something to you. Twisted something deep in your stomach. This was your friend, that not only trusted you enough to ask you this but you also thought he was cute and hot and perfect. 

The room felt hot. Too small. Too quiet. His thumbs rubbed slow circles into your thighs now, and you realized he hadn’t looked away from you once.

“Okay,” you breathed. “Then come here.”

Ni-ki shifted before he could even think, his hands sliding up to your hips like instinct. And when he leaned forward, lips brushing yours, it was cautious at first. Feather-light. Testing.

You tilted your head and leaned into it.

The kiss deepened slowly, like water spilling over the edge of a full glass. His mouth was warm, hesitant but eager, lips moving with just enough pressure to make your knees weaken. You could feel the tremble in him, like he was holding back, waiting to be told it was okay to want this. To want you. So you gave it to him. One hand slipped into his hair, anchoring, and the other trailed down his jaw, guiding him as your mouths melted into each other. His breath hitched against your lips when you sucked gently on his bottom one, and he made the softest, most desperate sound, half whimper, half groan. He opened his mouth and his tongue crashed with yours, wet sounds as you tasted his saliva on your own, sighing softly against him feeling how his fingers dig into the bare skin of your thighs. 

You pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth.

“Get on your knees, Riki.”

He blinked up at you, dazed, lips red, eyes wide.

And then he obeyed.

His hands slid down your thighs as he sank slowly to the floor in front of you. Kneeling. Breath shallow. Waiting.

Completely at your mercy.

He looked up at you, already breathless. You could see it in his face, that eager, desperate curiosity masked by restraint. Like he was doing everything he could not to touch. Not to beg.

You didn’t say anything at first.

Just reached for the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly, intentionally slow. You felt his gaze drag over every inch of skin as it was revealed, your bare breasts in front of him, nipples hard the second the cold air of the room touched them. His pupils were already blown wide, jaw clenched like he was trying so hard not to react. You dropped the shirt beside you, left in just your panties. 

The overhead light was off, but the warm hotel lamp behind him painted your skin gold, throwing soft shadows along your collarbones, the curve of your stomach, the tops of your thighs.

Ni-ki looked like he’d stopped breathing.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

He nodded too fast. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I just—fuck.”

The sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. Rough and a little hoarse, like it had scraped his throat just coming out.

You slipped your thumbs under the waistband of your underwear.

His eyes dropped instantly.

You swore you saw his fingers flex again, digging into his jeans like it physically hurt not to reach for you.

You slid them down slowly, stepping out of them with a grace that felt foreign even to yourself, because god, the way he was looking at you was doing something to your head. Like you were the first naked girl he’d ever seen. Like he didn’t know what to do with the sight of you. Your bare intimacy was in front of him now, and you were dripping, glistening arousal that you hadn’t even noticed until that point, pulsing and needy and wanting him. 

When you stood fully bare in front of him, you saw his throat bob as he swallowed. Hard.

“Still okay?” you asked again, voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up at you like you were unreal. Like you weren’t even part of the same world.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he breathed out, like it slipped from him without warning. “I don’t—what the fuck.”

Heat crawled up your chest. You weren’t used to being looked at like that. Not with that kind of reverence. Not like he was wrecked by just seeing you.

“You wanna learn how to do this right?” you asked, stepping closer until your knees touched the edge of the mattress.

He nodded, already breathless. 

“Yeah. I want to learn everything.”

You smiled, heart pounding, then gently climbed onto the bed.

“Then watch me,” you whispered against his lips, not kissing him yet. “And listen to me. I’ll show you exactly how it’s supposed to feel.”

Settling back against the pillows until you were laying flat, you parted your legs just enough to keep him staring.

His breath audibly caught.

From below, he had the clearest view. Your skin glowing under the dim bedside lamp, the soft rise and fall of your chest, your thighs spread open with nothing hidden. Your dripping, swollen pussy. You watched his eyes flick from your face to between your legs, and stay there.

“You still with me?” you asked, your voice low and teasing.

He nodded slowly. “I’ve never—fuck, I’ve never seen anyone like this. Like you.”

Your core tightened at the way he said it, raw, reverent.

You bent one knee, dragging your heel up onto the mattress, spreading yourself more for him, breathing heavily, your heart pumping against your chest and your pussy pulsing under his gaze.

“Then pay attention,” you murmured, bringing your fingers between your thighs. “I’m gonna show you how I like it.”

Ni-ki looked wrecked already, and you hadn’t even touched yourself yet.

You started slow, fingers gliding down to part yourself gently. Your other hand gripped the sheets beside your ribs as you circled your clit, slow and lazy. Soft breaths fell from your lips.

You let your eyes drift shut for a moment, focusing on the warmth building low in your stomach. But you could feel his eyes on you. Could almost hear the tension in his throat as he swallowed thickly, breathing uneven.

“Can you see?” you asked, voice hazy, cracked at the edges.

“Yeah,” he said, too fast. “Yeah, I can see everything.”

You glanced down at him through your lashes. He looked dazed. Kneeling obediently between your legs, jaw tense, his hands fisted at his sides like touching himself would break whatever spell you’d put him under.

“Does it make sense now?” you breathed, dragging your fingers lower to gather slick and bring it back up, circling with a bit more pressure. “It’s not about being rough. It’s about paying attention.”

Ni-ki exhaled hard. 

“You’re fucking unreal.”

A faint smirk tugged at your lips. You were soaked already, turned on by your own touch—but also by him. The way he looked at you. Like he was watching something sacred. Like he’d get on his knees for you again and again if it meant seeing you like this.

You kept your eyes on him as your fingers moved, lazy, deliberate circles that made your hips twitch every now and then. You weren’t putting on a show. This was real. You wanted him to see what it looked like when it was good. When someone took their time. When someone cared.

And judging by the look on his face, Ni-ki was already on the edge of losing his mind.

Still on his knees, his jaw was tight, lips parted like he kept forgetting how to breathe. His hands had fisted into the hem of his hoodie, knuckles pale from the grip. You could see how tense his thighs were. You could see the bulge against his jeans, hard and throbbing. How his chest rose and fell too fast.

You tilted your head, voice smooth and low. 

“You want to touch me, don’t you?”

His eyes shot up to yours, wide and ruined. 

“So bad.”

You let out a soft hum, letting your fingers slow, just enough to keep the pleasure alive.

“I know,” you said. “You’ve been staring like you’re starving.”

“I am,” he groaned, frustrated. “You’re—fuck, you’re driving me insane.”

You gave him a slow, lazy smile. 

“Good. That means it’s working.”

He let out a strangled breath, his hands twitching again, like he didn’t know whether to beg or fall apart.

“Can I… please?” he tried, his voice rough. “Just a little—let me touch you.”

“You are touching me,” you said sweetly, dragging your fingers through your slick just to show him. You brought them to your mouth, tasting yourself on them before sliding them between your legs again “With your eyes. Can’t you feel it?”

He looked like you’d punched the air out of him.

“Don’t worry,” you added, voice a little lower, “I want you desperate.”

He exhaled shakily, dropping his gaze to your thighs again. His whole body was tense, on edge, like he was fighting every urge in his body to crawl up the bed and ruin the distance between you.

“You said you wanted to learn,” you reminded him. “So listen when I tell you this, Riki.”

He looked up again. Waiting. 

“Pussy isn’t about technique. Not really. You can memorize all the tricks, flick your tongue every direction—but none of it matters if you’re not obsessed with the way she tastes. The way she feels when she’s shaking under you. The way she moans when you find the spot that makes her legs tremble.”

He blinked like he wasn’t breathing again.

“And if you’re not ready to worship her,” you whispered, dragging your fingers slow and deep between your folds, “then you’ve already failed.”

“Holy fuck,” he choked out, his voice barely a sound.

Your smile turned wicked. 

“I haven’t even let you touch me yet and you’re falling apart. What do you think’s gonna happen when I put your mouth here?”

He groaned and tilted forward slightly on his knees, like the weight of your words pushed him closer.

You paused your hand and raised a brow. 

“Getting needy?”

He nodded quickly, voice rough. 

“Please. You’re killing me.”

Your chest rose with slow, smug satisfaction. He was so close—so close to breaking.

“You wanna taste me that bad?” you asked.

He licked his lips. 

“So bad I think I’m gonna fucking lose it.”

You let your hand drop from between your legs and spread your thighs a little wider, baring yourself completely for him, your wetness dripping between your folds until you were soaking the bed beneath you.

“Then come closer,” you said softly.

He crawled forward the second you gave him permission, kneeling between your legs like it was the only thing in the world he wanted to do. His hands hovered just above your thighs, like he still wasn’t sure if he could touch you yet. You reached down and threaded your fingers into his hair, gently tugging until he looked up at you. 

“Slow,” you murmured. “I want you to take your time.” 

He swallowed hard. 

“Okay.”

 “Start soft,” you said. “Don’t rush. Just… taste.”

He nodded, breath catching like he was trying to anchor himself, but his hands were already trembling as they finally landed on your thighs. His touch was reverent, almost like he thought you’d vanish if he wasn’t careful. He leaned in slowly, plump and wet  lips brushing the inside of your thigh first, and you gasped at the contact. Just a kiss. Just barely there. But it lit up your nerves like a fuse.

The warmth of his breath followed, and your skin prickled with goosebumps. His mouth moved again, pressing another kiss, this time closer. He wasn’t rushing. He was listening. To your voice. To your breathing. To the way your thighs tensed when he got nearer to where you really wanted him.

You threaded your fingers tighter into his hair, guiding him, not forcing, just showing him you were there.

He looked up once, like he wanted to be sure, and when you gave the smallest nod, he lowered his head again, mouth finally dragging over your pussy, hot and open.

It was slow.

So slow it burned.

The first lick was cautious, just a flick of his tongue, but you moaned softly anyway, hips twitching up toward him. You could feel how his breath hitched in response, how the small sound you made seemed to fuel him. 

His lips parted again, tongue sliding a little firmer now between your soaked folds, tasting like he’d never tasted anything before. Like he was memorizing every part of you. The way your thighs shook. The way your breath caught. The way your fingers gripped tighter at his scalp when he hit the right spot, tongue licking wet and hot and perfect over your swollen clit. 

“Good,” you whispered. “That’s good… just like that.”

He let out a low sound against you, something desperate, something needy. His hands slid up to your hips like he couldn’t help himself anymore, holding you in place, mouth pressing deeper. The flat of his tongue moved in slow, indulgent strokes, and your stomach clenched, your toes curling against the sheets beneath you.

You exhaled shakily, fingers still buried in his hair, the sight of him between your legs already enough to keep your head spinning. He was trying, so hard, too. Tongue warm, mouth open, but a little unsure still, like he wasn’t convinced he was doing it right even though your thighs kept clenching around his ears.

“Riki,” you murmured, voice a little breathless, “slower—press your tongue flat. Yeah, like that.”

You felt him pause, adjust, and then try again, this time dragging the full weight of his tongue through your folds, slower, deeper, like he was tasting you properly now. Your hips lifted off the bed without meaning to.

“Mhm, fuck—just like that,” you whispered, your voice catching as a sharp pleasure lanced through your core.

You kept your eyes on him, watching the way he reacted to every sound you made. Like he was feeding off them. His lashes fluttered, lips shiny and swollen now, and when he glanced up at you, it was like he needed more. Needed to hear it from you.

“Circle your tongue around,” you whispered, tugging gently at his hair to keep him exactly where you wanted him. “There… slower. Keep it soft. I want to feel everything. Spit on it baby, get me soaked.”

His groan vibrated against you as he obeyed, the wet glide of his tongue sending another wave through your stomach, and then a thick string of saliva fell on your already soaked pussy. His hands clutched your thighs tighter now, nails pressing into your skin just enough to ground himself, like he was getting lost in it. In you.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you whispered, letting the praise drip from your lips. You saw the way his eyes rolled back slightly when you said it. How his movements got a little more confident, a little messier, but somehow still just right. “Taste me—really taste me. Don’t just lick, use your mouth.”

He obeyed with a quiet desperation, sucking gently on your clit, tongue slipping lower before dragging back up again, slow and thick, like he wanted to devour every inch of you.

You gasped. Moaned. Tugged harder at his hair.

“Fuck, Riki—don’t stop—”

He didn’t. If anything, he got hungrier, greedier. His tongue started moving with more pressure, his lips sucking softly at the spots that made your thighs shake.

You didn’t even have to look down to know he was gone.

You could feel it, in the way his mouth moved, in the way his grip had turned bruising on your thighs, in the low, desperate sounds he kept making every time his tongue dragged through you like he couldn’t help himself.

But when you did look down, your heart almost stopped beating.

Riki’s eyes were barely open, glossy and wild, lips swollen, wet from you. His face was flushed, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, and he was panting between licks like he physically couldn’t get enough.

And he kept talking.

Mumbling between mouthfuls, between kisses to your soaked skin, between long, obscene licks like he was drunk on the taste of you.

“Fuck—you taste so good…” he breathed, voice hoarse and wrecked. “S’fucking good… I can’t—god, I can’t stop.”

You moaned softly, hips rolling toward his mouth, and he whined into you. Actually whined.

“It’s the best,” he said again, more to himself this time, like he couldn’t believe it. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever had. I swear—fuck, I need—need to keep tasting you.”

His tongue flattened again, dragging up, slower this time, like he wanted to savor it. He licked you like it was holy.

You gasped, gripping his hair, pulling him tighter to you.

And he loved it.

Didn’t even flinch. He moaned loud into your cunt, licking deeper, rougher, sloppy now, his mouth messy and wet and insistent. Every word he slurred out came like a prayer, like he was in some trance.

“I wanna eat you every day,” he groaned. “Fuck, please let me—I’ll be so good for you, I’ll learn everything—just don’t make me stop—”

Your head fell back against the pillows, legs shaking. He wasn’t even listening anymore, just moving off instinct, tongue flicking exactly how you taught him, sucking just enough to make your stomach twist with heat.

“You like it that much?” you teased, your voice barely holding steady, but it was still firm. Still in control.

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused but burning.

“I love it,” he said immediately.

Your legs trembled around his shoulders, and still—still—he didn’t stop. His tongue was relentless now, messy and hot and wet against you, every slow stroke making your stomach twist tighter, your breath hitch faster. But you wanted more. You could feel your body hovering right on the edge, just one touch away from snapping completely.

You slid one hand down, gently brushing your fingers through his hair, guiding him just enough so you could breathe. 

“Riki,” you panted. He blinked up at you, dazed and glassy-eyed, his mouth still open, his chin glistening. “Use your fingers too.”

He nodded without hesitation, licking his lips like he didn’t want to waste a drop.

“I—I don’t wanna mess it up,” he said, breathless, hand twitching at your thigh. “Just tell me what to do.”

You grabbed his wrist gently, brought it between your thighs, your own fingers wrapping around his to help him feel you.

“Start with one,” you whispered. “Slow. Let me open up to you.”

He swallowed hard and did exactly that—one long finger slipping into your heat, careful, reverent. The moment he did, a soft sound escaped your lips, your walls fluttering around him.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, almost choking on the words. “You’re so warm. So—fuck—tight. Is that okay? Is that good?”

“So good,” you gasped, voice trembling. “Now curl it—just a little. Mhm… yeah, right there.”

He groaned at the way you clenched, and then his mouth was on you again—tongue working in tandem with his finger now, stroking inside while he sucked and licked and moaned like he was starving.

You let out a high, breathy moan, your hand still guiding his wrist, helping him learn the rhythm. Your hips rocked up to meet both touches, tongue and finger now perfectly synced, and he responded instantly, desperate to give you exactly what you needed.

“Add another,” you said, your voice shaking but firm. “You can take it.”

He hesitated only a second before easing a second finger in, slowly, and when he felt your body stretch around him, another broken groan left his throat.

“Fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice wrecked. “You feel so perfect—I wanna stay here forever.”

Your back arched, thighs trembling around his head, and he fucked you with his fingers just like you taught him, curling them right, keeping his mouth exactly where you needed it, letting you grind against his tongue shamelessly.

“That’s it, baby,” you moaned. “Just like that. Keep going—you’re gonna make me come.”

And the second those words left your lips, Riki lost it again, messy, moaning into you, thrusting his fingers harder, tongue flicking faster. You felt your climax building like a wave you couldn’t stop.

His lips were slick and red, cheeks flushed, hair clinging to his forehead. But it was the way he was moving that really undid you, hips rocking slowly against the mattress beneath him, grinding like he didn’t even notice he was doing it. Like he physically couldn’t stop.

He was moaning into you, low, broken, filthy sounds muffled by your thighs, and every time you tugged his hair or praised him, his hips pushed down harder, desperate for friction.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your whole body twitching under him. “You’re so needy, baby. Can’t even control yourself, can you?”

He moaned again, loud and desperate, and nodded just barely, face still buried in you.

“I—can’t,” he slurred between licks. “You taste too good—I need it—need to make you come—please, I can’t stop—”

The grind of his hips sped up, his fingers curling perfectly inside you while his tongue flicked your clit again and again, completely in rhythm, completely feral. His thighs were trembling from the way he was using the friction beneath him, like he was getting off just from serving you. From the taste. From your voice.

From the fact that he was the one making you fall apart.

“That’s it,” you groaned, hips bucking up toward his mouth. “Keep grinding, baby. Fuck yourself while you eat me. God—look at you…”

But he wasn’t looking anymore.

His eyes were squeezed shut now, brows furrowed in focus, mouth and fingers soaking wet, hips stuttering with every moan. And from the way his body was shaking, you knew, he was so close. Without even being touched.

You were shaking, heart hammering, your breath catching in short, ragged gasps. Every flick of his tongue, every curl of his fingers sent sparks rushing down your spine, your thighs trembling around his head. Ni-ki didn’t slow down, if anything, he was more focused than ever, like every sound you made fueled him. Like he needed to pull you apart, needed to feel you break for him.

You could barely keep your eyes open, barely breathe with how good it felt, how intense it was. His hands gripped your thighs like lifelines, grounding himself there, mouth working like he was starved and you were the only thing he’d ever wanted to taste.

Your hips jerked. You were so close it hurt.

“Riki,” you gasped, your voice cracking. “I’m gonna—”

“Come, please, need to feel you come on my mouth baby” He whispered, breathless, sucking your clit so hard that you cried out.

That did something to him. He moaned again, deep and wrecked, and it vibrated against you, just enough to push you over.

Your back arched off the mattress, your fingers tightening in his hair as the world blurred and broke around you. The orgasm tore through you in waves, sharp, warm, overwhelming. You cried out his name, legs closing around him, but he didn’t move, didn’t stop. He held you through it, mouth still soft, slow, working you gently as you came down. 

 When your muscles finally stopped trembling and your breathing slowed, he looked up at you.His lips were swollen, eyes glassy, flushed and ruined, and he was still panting because he came too, hard and soaked and messy against his jeans from just eating you.

You reached down and stroked your thumb over his cheek.

“You did so good,” you whispered, still breathless. “So, so good.”

And the look in his eyes when you said it? Like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted to hear.

You were sure you created some kind of monster. 

It was like something had snapped open between you and Riki that night, something hungry and undeniable. He hadn’t touched you in front of anyone since, but you could feel it: the way his gaze followed you when you walked past in your bikini, the way he’d bite his lip when he thought no one was looking.

But it was worse when you were alone.

Because now, it wasn’t just once. Now he wanted you constantly.

You hadn’t even made it out of the hotel earlier that morning without him pulling you back into the bathroom, dropping to his knees like it was the only place he belonged. He’d barely said a word, just looked up at you with those dark, desperate eyes and mumbled something about “missing the taste of you.”

It had been messy. Rushed. You had to muffle your moans into your hand and clamp your thighs tight around his head just to keep quiet.

Now, three days later in the afternoon, you were sitting under a beach umbrella with a drink in your hand, pretending like you weren’t still flushed from the memory. Pretending like your legs weren’t shaking.

Ni-ki was stretched out on a towel a few feet away, sunglasses on, the sea breeze lifting his hair. He looked calm to anyone else—maybe a little too calm—but you saw the truth. The tension in his jaw. The slight curve at the corner of his mouth when he caught your eye.

And then he mouthed something at you across the space between your friends.

Please.

You blinked. 

What?

He glanced toward the beach showers. Then back at you. And mouthed it again:

Please. Just five minutes.

Your heart stuttered.

You shook your head. Barely. But your thighs pressed together instinctively, heat blooming low in your belly. He tilted his head, still pleading, like he was barely holding it together.

He wanted it again.

He wanted you again.

And it hit you then, this wasn’t just about curiosity anymore. This wasn’t a one-time thing.

Ni-ki was hooked.

The sun was beginning to dip lower, casting everything in a hazy gold, and the breeze off the ocean carried laughter and music from your friends further down the beach. You were pretending to still be sipping your drink when Ni-ki brushed past you, close enough that your knees touched for a second.

No one noticed. Or so you hoped.

He didn’t say anything, just walked towards the showers without looking back.

But you followed.

Your heart pounded as you crossed the sand, the faint sound of water trickling from a half-open faucet masking your footsteps. The beach shower area was quiet, stone walls, open-air, private enough if you were quick.

You slipped inside, and there he was.

His back was against the tiled wall, hair tousled, lips parted, like he’d barely been breathing since he left you on that beach chair.

“I thought you said five minutes,” you whispered, stepping in closer.

He shook his head, chest rising and falling beneath his shirt. 

“That was a lie.”

You raised a brow, teasing.

“So you dragged me out here to lie to me?”

“No,” he said, voice low, hoarse. “I dragged you out here because I need you.”

And that was all it took.

You kissed him first, quick and hot, stealing his breath. But he dropped to his knees before you could blink, already pushing your swimsuit bottoms down your legs with shaking hands, reverent and hungry.

“Wait,” you breathed, glancing toward the open side of the shower. “Someone could—”

“I don’t care.” His voice was wrecked, hands firm as he pulled your thighs over his shoulders. “I’ll be fast. I promise. I just—fuck, I missed you.”

And then his mouth was on you.

The rush of it stole your breath. The contrast of the cool tile behind you and the burning warmth of his tongue had you clutching the stone wall for balance. He moaned into you, shameless, like the taste of you alone was enough to undo him. You bit your lip, trying not to make a sound, failing as a gasp slipped out when he flattened his tongue and really got into it.

“God, you’re so good,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “So greedy—”

He groaned, grinding against nothing, his fingers digging into your thighs as he pulled you impossibly closer. His mouth was wet, messy, insistent, and every time you tried to look down at him, you saw how gone he was, red cheeks, glassy eyes, flushed and panting like he needed this more than air.

“Riki,” you warned, breath hitching as the pressure built again, sharp and fast. “We don’t have long—”

“I don’t care,” he mumbled against your skin. “Let them see. I’d still stay right here.”

That nearly ended you.

You didn’t even hear the footsteps pass nearby over the sound of the waves and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You just held his face, riding the edge, knowing it wouldn’t take long.

By the time you stepped out of the beach showers, your legs were still trembling.

You’d tried to fix your hair in the tiny mirror, smooth out your expression, but your mouth was swollen and your swimsuit still clung awkwardly to your damp skin. Riki walked a few steps behind you, his shirt thrown over one shoulder, cheeks still flushed, his lips a little too red.

And worst of all, he was smiling.

You elbowed him as you walked, muttering under your breath, 

“You’re being obvious.”

“I am obvious,” he said softly, brushing your fingers with his as you passed a stray towel on the sand. “And you liked it.”

You glared at him—only half-serious—and picked up the pace, ignoring the way your thighs still ached.

When you reached your friends, Jake was the first to spot you.

“Well, well, well,” he grinned, raising his sunglasses. “Look who finally decided to rejoin society.”

“We weren’t gone that long,” you said quickly, dropping your towel back down like nothing happened.

Jake squinted. “You guys missed the watermelon. And Sunoo was telling this insane story about—wait.” He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “Why do you look like that?”

Your stomach flipped. Riki coughed behind you.

Sunghoon glanced up from where he was drying his hair. 

“Yeah. You guys look kinda… flushed.”

“Hot out,” Riki mumbled.

“Hm,” Jake said slowly, like he didn’t quite believe it.

You sat down quickly on your beach chair and took a sip of your drink, trying to will your heart rate back to normal. But Riki flopped down next to you, casually propping his sunglasses on top of his head, lips still a little too pink.

You glanced at him. 

“You’re enjoying this.”

He smirked. 

“A little.”

“Don’t say anything.”

“I won’t.” He leaned closer, voice dropping so only you could hear. “Unless you want me to tell them how good you taste when you—”

“Riki.”

He grinned wider and leaned back like nothing happened.

You tried to look normal. Innocent. Unbothered.

But the looks your friends kept throwing your way said one thing clearly:

They knew something was up.

And if they didn’t know now, they would soon, because Riki’s knee was already brushing yours under the towel, and the second you leaned towards him, he gave you that look again.

Hungry.

Summer trip this year had just started. 

[enhani-ki]

my biggest opp - reader x ni-ki

warnings : smut, nsfw, cursing, etc.

read part two

"suck my dick." "eat my ass."

you and ni-ki exchanged filthy words to each other at the same time, your voices were sharp and loud enough to turn your other coworkers heads. and even though they had long grown accustomed to your rivalry, they always still look at the two of you in shock.

it's like the office practically lived in fear whenever the two of you were around,

and it got to a point where the HR was already forced to intervene.

you both found yourselves sitting across from a visibly exhausted HR rep after a particularly heated argument during a department-wide meeting.

"l/n, nishimura... this is really out of control." they said while rubbing their temples. "you're sabotaging projects, disrupting meetings, and making the workplace hostile."

"tell her that. she started it." ni-ki pointed out.

you rolled your eyes.

"effective immediately, you're being reassigned to different departments."

and it should've ended there but somehow, despite being on separate teams, you both still found ways to make each other's lives miserable. you found loopholes and more ways to sabotage each other without making it obvious.

ni-ki took every ounce of restraint not to strangle you, and you might've run him over in the parking lot already if it weren't for security cameras around the building.

that late night, the office was already empty. you thought everyone had clocked out except for you.

you were also ready to leave, your bag is already over your shoulder but something was missing.

the important file, you knew you had just printed it.

"looking for this?"

it was the first time you saw ni-ki again. he's standing across the room, holding the folder between his fingers with a serious expression.

your stomach dropped. no fucking way.

"you're so fucking dead," he shook his head. "say goodbye to your career."

"gi-give me that!"

he held it high, stepping back when you tried to take it.

you almost had it but he made it more out of reach.

the folder has the confidential criteria of the next manager promotion, he knew you're a bad person but he didn't know that you'll just fucking cheat.

"yes, i'll give this back," he scoffed and nodded. "right to our manager."

your desperation turned to rage, that paper would literally ruin you. your eyes landed on a thick book sitting on a nearby desk, and you could've just explained and asked nicely to give it back but hell no, so you grabbed the hard thick book and threatened to swing.

ni-ki panicked, he looked around for a weapon of his own and in a split-second decision, he grabbed a cup off the desk and threw it at you...

very cold water splashed all over you and your clothes.

your jaw dropped. "you-"

"i- i didn't-"

then your foot slipped on the wet floor, ni-ki reacted fast, catching your head before you could crash to the ground but the momentum sent him stumbling too.

you groaned, his hands braced against the floor to keep himself from completely crushing you and next thing you knew, you were on the floor, your back against the cold tiles, and ni-ki was right on top of you, with his face buried on your tits.

he slowly moved, his eyes locked onto the view in front of him... your soaked blouse sticking to your skin, making your black bra and cleavage very much visible.

ni-ki cleared his throat before turning his head away from you. he was about to grab the scattered papers but you were quicker, you grabbed onto his collar, pulling him before he could escape.

"let go!"

"not a chance."

he struggled, trying to push you off but you were holding onto him so hard that the buttons of his shirt ripped, exposing his toned chest and abs.

you smirked slightly when you noticed ni-ki stopped pushing you away and his breaths became heavier.

he's still a guy after all.

your fingers roamed around his exposed chest, teasing him just to test something, to see if you could turn the tables,

you could feel his muscles tensed under your touch and ni-ki closed his eyes when you leaned close to give him a soft kiss on the lips.

the sound your lips made as they parted was too sexy so he leaned in to kiss you just to hear it again.

the kiss deepened, it became hurried, hard, aggressive, and messy.

like all his hate had nowhere else to go except right here.

ni-ki groaned against your lips, hands gripping on your waist.

you fingers slid down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin more beneath the open shirt again and before you knew it, you were helping him remove his shirt off completely, tossing it aside like it meant nothing.

"this is unbelievable." he thought, while his fingers worked hastily, unbuttoning each one from your blouse with urgency, making your heart race even more.

"you're impatient." you whispered, breathless.

"just wanna get this over with." he said before his lips crashed into yours to shut your annoying voice.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he easily lifted you, his other hand sliding down your back to remove your bra.

ni-ki watched the way your boobs bounce and spread free right in front of his eyes.

he lay you down on a nearby couch, removing your skirt and stockings so he can have you naked completely.

you arched on his touch but ni-ki grabbed your wrist and pulled you on top of him with no effort.

and even though you won't openly admit or say it, you knew everyone found your coworker is attractive but damn, he's this big too?

so now it made it harder to stop all this and it's been so long too since you had sex, you already forgot how it felt.

you watched ni-ki slicked himself with his own spit, barely easing what was about to come because just as you suspected, the stretch really hurts.

maybe it just the tip but it was already too much. your nails dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto.

ni-ki started moaning, his entire body tensing as he felt the way your walls squeezed around him. it's so tight, so impossibly hot too like you were already milking him for everything he had and his cock's not even fully inside yet.

"fuck," he groaned, "you're sucking me in."

yes, ni-ki hates you and even though he wanted you to suffer for everything you did to him, he would never be cruel when it came to sex. his own self-control was also hanging by a thread, yet he still moved carefully, pushing in slow and deep, letting you feel every inch of him.

your head tipped back, moaning too as you adjusted to his size, tightening more around him involuntarily.

ni-ki smiled, probably the first time he did. "there you go," he thought, watching your reaction as he rolled his hips up to meet yours, slow while keeping your legs in it's place.

you couldn't even think now already, the way he filled you up, the way his body pressed against yours, it was overwhelming. your nails raked down his back as he picked up the pace, going deeper, and deeper that you just might pass out.

and when the pain faded into pleasure, your body moved on its own, you rolled your hips until you found a good rhythm, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down, to take his dick even deeper inside you.

ni-ki threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut as you rode him with no mercy, your warm, soaked walls dragging over his cock at a pace that was too much. it felt like he had no control anymore, he could barely think.

"y/n, slow down-" his voice broke, desperate and strained but you ignored him, rolling your hips even more fast because then maybe you'll get to see him snap.

his whole body was trembling beneath you, muscles tensed as his breath came out in sharp, ragged gasps. he already came once, and it had already been so deep inside you but you just wouldn't stop.

"you wanted to fuck me, right?" you taunted, your thighs were shaking from how much pleasure was coursing through your overstimulated body. "then just take it."

ni-ki buckled up into you too, he's so close again, teetering on the edge, but he refused to give in to your words.

"you- you're one to talk," he rasped, "when you're so fucking soaked."

and he was right, you could feel how drenched you were, could hear how messy and filthy it sounded every time your hips met his.

the pleasure became too much again, unbearable ache building deep inside you it felt like you're going to pee anytime soon, you pulled his hair for support as your rhythm started slowing down.

ni-ki noticed even through his dazed, wrecked state before smirking again. "gonna fall apart on me?"

his hands held your hips down, forcing his cock so deep inside you that your vision blurred, a sob tore from your throat as the pressure snapped, crashing through your body so intense that you couldn't even moan.

your lips parted, body trembling uncontrollably as you came hard on his lap.

you didn't know how but somehow now, he had you on your hands and knees, chest pressing against your back as he drove into you, relentless, unforgiving.

"n-no, fuck!" you sobbed, your arms nearly giving out as he buried himself inside you again and again, ni-ki's lips trailing over your shoulder, hot and ragged.

and your pussy clenched around him again, he started losing it.

his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling it to where your back can press against his chest, his other hand gripping on your throat.

he cupped your tits, you could feel his cock twitch inside you, the thrusts of his hips turned frantic as he chased his own release.

...now the office fell silent but the reality of what just happened started creeping in slowly between the two of you.

you reached for your discarded clothes, your limbs were feeling heavy as you clumsily pulled your skirt back on. ni-ki, still catching his breath, sat up to and started buttoning his ruined shirt though half the buttons were missing, making it completely useless.

then, he held something up between his fingers.

"can i keep these?"

your head turned towards him, eyes widening when you realized he was holding your panties.

you snatched it from his grip. "are you fucking sick in the head?" you hissed, slipping them back on as quickly as possible.

he just laughed and shook his head.

maybe he's sick, after all, he just slept with the worst person he ever knew.

next day you and ni-ki sat across from each other in the office, both unusually quiet. no bickering, no scheming, everything was just... gone.

your coworkers noticed but ignored it, just enjoying while it's happening.

ni-ki exchanged awkward glances with you before quickly looking away.

your lips were still tingling from last night. you swore that your body still felt him, and every time you move in your chair, the memories just keeps on flooding back to your head. "stop... please... oh, my god."

he wasn't doing any better too, he can't stop smiling and running a hand through his hair, his knee were bouncing under the desk every time his eyes landed on you.

then he caught you alone.

you were at the copy room, trying to focus on literally anything else when suddenly, you felt him.

ni-ki pressed up behind you, my dick misses you, is what he wanted to say. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

you blushed, your fingers were curling into the edge of the machine. "p- printing, what else?" you stuttered.

"y/n..." his hands found your waist, squeezing lightly. "you don't miss it?"

you swallowed hard before turning around to face him, "keep dreaming, psycho."

liar.

the asshole ni-ki you know would never say these things and if he did, the old you would've punch his mouth and punching it once once so you'd make sure it'll bleed.

so what happened?

"remember, i still got the files."

you hushed him, "give that shit back," you whispered.

he hummed, tilting his head. "it's at my house. you can come get it."

"just bring it here!"

"like i said," he dragged the word out, stepping closer, "come get it."

you still found yourself standing outside his apartment later that night even though knew it was probably a trap.

ni-ki opened the door, leaning against it with that same smug expression like he knew you'd be here... he's wearing nothing but a loose bathrobe.

you looked down. is he naked underneath? he's this pervert? then you quickly shook your head, forcing yourself to look back up. "where is it?"

he sighed, stepping aside to let you in. "hmm, i put it somewhere over there," he murmured.

you shoved him away before he could try anything, making him chuckle.

so you started searching, bending down to check under his sofa and through the mess on his coffee table.

ni-ki stood behind you, watching. no, he was checking you out.

his tongue slipped to wet his lips, looking at your ass and if he stared any longer, he knew his dick will get hard.

you stood and stomped your foot. "just give it back!"

ni-ki sighed and fixed his hair. "okay, fine!" he said, "i already shredded it. you don't have to worry."

"how do i know you're not lying?"

he didn't answer right away. instead, he leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, legs spreading slightly as he pulled you closer between them.

"because... you fucked me so good, i destroyed every single thing i have that could ruin you."

you swallowed hard, chest rising and falling hard as you look into his eyes then you looked down, and... oh.

his cock twitched beneath the thin fabric of his robe, already straining against it, making his arousal painfully obvious.

the air grew heavier as you both watched him get harder, completely shameless.

your lips parted slightly, heat creeping up your neck, but then you shot him a glare. "can you put some damn clothes on?"

ni-ki smirked, playing with the belt of his robe. "but you came all the way here…" he said. looking at you with his needy eyes.

he didn't finish his words, you just reached forward, curling your fingers around the soft fabric, and dragged it off his shoulders, inch by inch.

your eyes followed every reveal, his sharp collarbones, the defined lines of his shoulders, the smooth, lean muscle of his chest.

his eyes were locked onto your lips, red, and swollen from the night before. that's his doing and it looked so good.

his fingers traced along your jaw, his other hand gripping your waist as he captured your lips in a slow, deep kiss. his body was already hot beneath your touch, tense, waiting for you to take control and do him however you wanted.

you knelt between his spread legs, dragging your hand over his thighs, watching the way his muscles flexed under your touch.

you wrapped your fingers around his cock first, stroking him slow, letting your palm glide smoothly over him. his cock twitched in response with a shaky breath slipping past his lips.

you leaned in and pressed a slow, wet kiss to his tip. ni-ki's grip in your hair tightened but not pulling, just holding, like he needed something to ground him.

and when your lips wrapped around him, he lost all of his sense of control. you took him deeply that your cheeks were hollowing while letting your tongue glide over every inch of his dick.

you pushed even lower, forcing him down your throat, stretching yourself around him until your throat clenched, gagging as you choked when he hit the back of your mouth,

"more, more... more..." ni-ki bit his lip.

and you let yourself struggle, deep throathing his cock that spit started pooling at the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin, and all over your hands.

you heard him swore in Japanese under his breath so you can't help but chuckle, vibration sent another set of pleasure through him before you pulled away, letting his cock slip from your lips with a pop, thin strand of spit still connecting your mouth to his tip.

ni-ki's hips bucked, desperate for your mouth again but you just smirked, dragging your tongue along the side of his cock, slow and teasing, before wrapping your lips around him again... only to pull away the second he's about to cum.

"y/n- stop... that." he warned but you ignored it. instead, you just wrapped your hands around him, stroking him slow and lazy.

"you were close, right?"

"you think you're funny?" he panted.

you started sucking his dick passionately again, enough to make him think you were finally giving in but only to pull away again at the last second, lips barely brushing his tip, making him fucking ache.

his voice cracked, "you're so fucking evil-"

"you sound so desperate right now." you teased, dragging a single finger along his length, feeling how hot and hard he was in your grasp.

"you're not gonna make me cum?" ni-ki asked before pining your hands above your head, he had you completely spread out beneath him,

he's too far gone to even remember why he hated you in the first place.

and he went on you so hard that night, you couldn't even move the next day. you would fall the second you tried to stand, and the soreness between your thighs made you collapse back with a frustrated whimper.

a deep chuckle rumbled beside you, raspy from hours of groaning, moaning, and going crazy.

you glared at him weakly, when you tried again and failed, ni-ki carried you in his arms. you yelped, clinging to his shoulders as he carried you towards the bathroom.

he really did a number on you.

"think we can handle another round here?"

now he had your cheek pressed up against the cool, fogged-up glass of the shower. ni-ki's hands were everywhere, his large palms gripped the soft flesh of your tits, squeezing, pulling, and rolling your nipples between his finger, making your body arch back into him.

you just hoped that it wouldn't leave bruising prints on your skin.

you breathed hard, fogging up the mirror. ni-ki groaned against your shoulder, your fingers kept slipping against the tile for balance, wet slap echoing through the steam-filled bathroom.

"i could fuck you for days..." he declared, his teeth grazing your shoulder before he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His fingers dug into your hips, pressing you harder against the glass.

the water kept shifting from icy cold to blistering hot, and it's so hard to breath, like you were both drowning.

next morning, your body ached in ways you didn't think were possible, ni-ki groaned into the pillow beside you, his arm draped over your waist, refusing to move.

your phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably an alarm or a message about work. you glanced at the time, then at ni-ki, who peeked at you with a smile.

"we're not going in, are we?" he asked, still sleepy.

you sighed, already knowing the answer. "nope, i can't."

he grinned and rolled over, grabbing his phone to call in sick.

"i gotta go home."

he hummed, nuzzling against your neck. "mm. or you could just stay here with me."

his hand slid over your thigh.

"i'm so sleepy," you mumbled, voice muffled against the pillow.

ni-ki's fingers were already trailing down your side so you hissed.

"what?" he murmured against your shoulder, pressing a warm kiss there. "i'm just holding you."

"you're not."

sighed, eyes fluttering shut. "i need sleep."

...but he can fuck you back to sleep.

ni-ki hummed, pretending to think. he rolled on top of you, pinning you beneath his weight.

"just five minutes." he agreed, lips brushing your ear. "if not, i'm waking you up my way."

later, just as you were drifting into actual sleep, something heavy landed on the bed, startling you both awake.

your eyes snapped open, only to be met with a pair of little eyes glaring at you.

a dog.

a small, fluffy thing that was currently growling at you like you had personally offended it.

"what the?" he muttered, scrambling back. "oh, bisco..."

"your dog?"

"that's my child."

you blinked at him. "i didn't know you we-"

"yes," he replied, reaching to ruffle the dog's fur. "i'm a single father."

you squinted at him, then at the dog, who was still very much growling at you.

"oh, come on," you huffed, sitting up. "what's your problem?"

the dog barked in response, stepping protectively over ni-ki's chest. "bisco thought you were hurting me last night."

"excuse me?"

the dog growled again, and you shot ni-ki a glare. "are you gonna stop it?"

ni-ki reached out and pulled you against him, ignoring the dog's outrage.

"bisco," he called out, "you'll get used to her."

bisco did not look convinced. "i think it can sense your evil attitude," he teased, rubbing the dog's ears.

ni-ki looked completely at ease... messy hair, lips still a little swollen from earlier, and worst of all, smiling.

like actually smiling.

you swallowed hard, your face heating up.

was this really the same guy who had spent months making your life a living hell? the same guy who stole your reports, sabotaged your presentations, and threw every possible insult your way?

the same guy you swore you'd never tolerate, let alone you expect to wake up next to?

it really doesn't feel real.

you sat there feeling like your whole world just tilted sideways and yet, here he was, laughing softly as bisco licked his face, as if he wasn't the biggest opp you have.

ni-ki looked at you, "what?"

you scoffed, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over your head. "nothing..."

ni-ki only chuckled, moving closer, "tsk, don't tell me..."

and you kicked him under the blanket, smiling like an idiot.

a/n: i need to write smut better omfg, thank you @greenparties for this request. and if you're a MOA and BEOMGYU is your bias here's another coworker/enemies to lovers fic of mine: coworker || c. beomgyu x reader

masterlist: マスターリストm.list || my biggest opp part ii

taglist 𖤘: @dolliewon @ziiao

[specsthesecond]

⋆｡ﾟ🪐｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡*⋆｡ﾟ🛸｡⋆｡ ﾟ🌕ﾟ｡⋆*｡ﾟ☄️｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

Alien partner who is constantly amazed and appalled by human biology. 

You crack your knuckles in front of them once and they look at you with the most horrified expression.

You don't react in immense pain so obviously you're fine but this poor soul thinks you actually just broke your bones out of nowhere 😭. 

They can hear your heart beat and are absolutely fascinated with the way it speeds up and slows down. 

They like how it speeds up when they get closer and talk lower so they do that pretty often. They like how it slows down when you go to sleep, they find the slow rhythmic thumps very soothing. 

They'll constantly ask you questions about your species whenever a question pops into their head. 

"What are these for?"

They gently brush your eyelashes with their finger as you lay on their chest one morning. You don't open your sleepy eyes when you respond. 

"Keeps dust out of our eyes." 

There's definitely a better answer you could've given but that's all you have the energy for right then and they seem to be satisfied with that. 

Just imagine an alien partner who is so openly enthralled by you. They can't help but hold your cheeks and stare into your eyes, absolutely amazed. 

"Do all human eyes look like yours?"

You manage to actually respond, voice soft to match theirs,

"They come in a few colours but everyone's eyes are different." 

"Yours is the most beautiful colour I've ever seen."

They say while gazing into your eyes as if you hold all the stars in the galaxy in your pupils.

⋆｡ﾟ🪐｡⋆｡°｡*⋆｡ﾟ🛸｡⋆｡ﾟ｡⋆ﾟ☄️｡⋆°

[honeyatsu]

I can't have what I want (but neither can you) | Bob Reynolds

Bob Reynolds x F!Reader

Summary: You don't know how to explain the feeling when you see Bob and Yelena together. You don't understand it, and you don't like it. You think maybe you're not a people person, maybe you're better off being on your own. You take matters to solve this problem your own way, but everyone doesn't agree with your logic.

Stand-alone. One-shot.

"'Cause I know we be so complicated But we be so smitten, it's crazy I can't have what I want, but neither can you"

Warnings: 18+MINORS DNI. Minor spoilers for Thunderbolts! Smut (my first time writing smut deserves a warning itself tbh)

Not proof read/edited. Maybe later. Idk. I hate editing.

a/n: I am so obsessed with this man...I just couldn't not write a fic. He has been rotting my brain since I saw Thunderbolts and I don't see my obsession ending soon lmao....also my first time fully writing smut. I tried.

ao3 | masterlist

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The sound of laughter echoes around the living space as both you and Bob are scrolling through the endless selection of movies, making fun of each-others movie preferences. The light from the city is reflecting through the window glass, it’s a beautiful night and the two of you wanted to spend it indoors while everyone else in the Tower tended to their own business.  

It’s one of those rare quiet and peaceful nights at the Towel. You decided why not take advantage of it, hauling Bob out of his room and inviting him to a movie night (a movie night that doesn’t involve unnecessary commentary or spoilers).

“We’ve gone through an entire collection of romcom’s…do you not watch anything else?” Bob teasess as he nudges your shoulder, a small grin spreading across his face. You roll your eyes, tossing the remote to his lap. 

“Okay, drama queen. You pick.” 

Bob chuckles, causing his knee to press lightly against yours. He’s warm – you notice with every light tough to the shoulder, whenever your bodies lightly brush against eachothers, he’s always warm. Being close to him is no different from wrapping your body with a freshly dried blanket. Months since the New York incident, your downtime has been spent with Bob. You found comfort in him, his quiet smile and haunted eyes enticing you. He was both gentle and strong, it was impressive. Bob was the only person who made this new life you’ve all been pushed into feel like a home. 

After what seemed like endless scrolling, Bob lands on Warm Bodies. “Zombie movie. I think this one’s a winner.” 

“God help us,” you groan. “This is still romance.”

“Sure, but it’s with zombies.” 

You hum in response, sinking your body further into the large couch and glance back at him. You offer him a shrug – accepting the film of the evening. 

The sound of the movie beginning echoes through the surround sound, and it’s all you're able to hear as the two of you focus on the screen in front of you. That is until the moment was interrupted by the elevator door’s ding. 

Heavy footsteps make their way towards the couch, not shying away from being the only loud thing in the room besides the TV. You turn your head as they approach, it’s Yelena. 

“Movie night?” she asks, a grin spread across her cheek. She’s in a grey sweatshirt, her blond hair is pulled back by a headband. 

You turn your head back, nodding in response. 

“Nice,” she makes her way to the other side of Bob, dropping her body next to his. “What are we watching?” 

“Something with zombies, y/n says they fall in love.” he replies, turning to her with a wide smile – his soft eyes gazing over at her, his half-laugh expression you try to believe is just for you. 

It’s uneasy, the feeling at the bottom of your stomach. It’s doing more flips than you do during a mission, your arms crossing quicker than you realize how you’re reacting. It’s completely illogical, there’s no reason for you to feel this bothered.

But you watch them, you see the way she nudges his arm, how he doesn’t pull back. With you, Bob seems almost hyper-aware of his proximity to you, but with Yelena, it’s almost as if physical boundaries don't exist. He is completely comfortable with her. You begin to watch him watching her, how his eyes follow her subtle movements, how captivated he stares at her as she laughs – confident and magnetic. Why did he never look at you like that? The thought sneaks its way to your head, you can feel your heart rate slowly begin to increase. Something is pulling tight in your chest.

You don’t understand it, but you sure as hell don’t like it. 

“I’m actually kind of tired,” you say quickly, standing up before you are able to finish your sentence. 

Bob diverts his attention towards you, “Already?”

You lower your head, nodding sheepishly. The walk to the elevator feels as if it’s a few miles away as opposed to a few feet, each step feeling as if you’re walking in slow motion. 

Behind you, you hear bodies shifting. 

“You sure?” Bob mildly shouts, his voice dripping in confusion. 

When you finally make it inside the elevator, you pretend not to hear him. The sound of your finger pressing the button rapidly becomes the loudest noise – the desperation to be anywhere but the common room being obvious. When the door finally closes, it’s quiet but your thoughts seem to be so loud. There’s a mix of emotions and ideas going through your head, but you're unsure how to make sense of any of it. 

As you push open your bedroom door – it feels heavier than usual. The shallow light of your lamp shining too bright, and your bed looking like the ultimate safe space. 

You’re not used to this feeling – it’s beyond foreign and it startles you. Not even the most dangerous mission can make your stomach churn the way it does when you see Bob watching Yelena. It’s been like this for weeks at this point, your breath becomes shallow when they share an inside joke together. Your heart races more than you’re used to when you see Yelena place her hand on his shoulders. There's a nauseating feeling that takes over when every moment with them, you feel like a third wheel to their friendship. They share a specific bond, and a friendship like there’s can’t be replicated. They’ve been through too much, know each other too well. 

It’s way more intimate than any kind of friendship you and Bob have. 

But you’ve known this. This isn’t new. Their friendship wasn’t some kind of secret, it’s been this way since you joined the New Avengers and it’s been this way since before you were recruited in.

But recently, you haven’t been fine. You try to convince yourself that you’ve been sick, but the feeling of unease only happens when you’re around them. 

You just don’t know why. 

You're settled in bed, it’s dark, and you want to be asleep. You’d do anything to be asleep. The weight of the blanket over you should be comforting, but it just makes you feel too aware. It’s fabric grazing over your skin, the rustle of the sheets whenever you shift in place. While your room is dark, the light from under the door can’t seem to escape your focus. The realization that the movie night you planned is now happening without you. 

You try telling yourself that this is ridiculous. Why did you leave? Exactly what was the problem? Bob and Yelena are close friends, but they’re also your friends. They’re your team and co-workers, you all live under the same roof now – so why was your brain doing this to you? 

A soft tap on your door pauses your thoughts, your name being softly said against the other side. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat, for a few seconds, you actually forget to breathe.

It’s Bob. 

He stops tapping your door before he says, “Can I come in?” 

You don’t respond, keeping your body still. You hope the lack of any sound, any proof that you’re awake would cause him to walk away. To leave you and your thoughts alone. 

“I’m coming in.” 

You make a small noise as you hear the door slowly creak open, quickly pulling the cover over your head. Your body is still as you hear footsteps slowly approach you. 

For a moment, you think of getting up. Explaining yourself and wanting to offer an apology, ending the movie night before it even really started. But you lay there, still and motionless, pretending to be asleep. 

It feels like there’s someone hovering over you, you hear the sound of shifting on the ground. You imagine Bob standing over you, fidgeting as he contemplates whether to wake you or let you rest. Luckily for you, he takes a step back, you hear his footsteps slowly begin to sound further away before he lightly shuts the door. 

A loud gast escapes you, from the breath you forgot you were holding. You kick your sheets off you, releasing the sticky hold it had on you due to your sweat.

You’re unsure what you got yourself into, or how you got there in the first place. You just want things to be as they were, you want to feel normal again.

You have got to do something about this. 

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You don’t mean to avoid him – that wasn’t the plan. 

At least not at first.

You just needed some space, some perspective, some time to breathe and allow yourself to be level headed. 

It was just easier to be all of those things without Bob. And without thinking about how he looks at Yelena, and without wondering if he’s ever looked at you that way (and to you, that’s wishful thinking). But, who cares. They’re friends. You’re friends. You’re all friends, there’s nothing wrong with that. 

And yet, the ache lingers. The feeling you got before sneaks its way into your body whenever you share your space with them. 

It was subtle at first – you skipping out on team meals. You’re not in the common room often anymore, you prefer to spend your evening locked up in your room or training by yourself in the training room. 

And it’s peaceful. 

There’s no aching feeling in your chest, there’s no butterflies flying freeling in your stomach, there’s no feeling of uncertainty or disappointment. You tell yourself, maybe you’re off being alone. Perhaps, you’re not someone who functions well in teams, you’re probably just naturally a lone wolf. 

And no one questions it, you hardley figure anyone even notices the fact that you’ve lightly pulled away. 

Well, at least most of them.

You can’t help but see the quiet looks Bob sneaks at you during meetings. You try to ignore the way his smile lighty drops when you answer him too quickly, or when you look too eager to leave. He stopped trying to sit next to you or stopping by your room when he’s bored. 

It hurt more than you thought it would. 

While you realize that this was the plan, this was your intention, you wanted space and you got it. But it still hurts. 

These days, the only thing that helps is being in your room or the Tower’s gym.

You decide today is one of those days. The world outside was too loud, just like in your head. You needed something to focus on, something to ground your body and allow your mind to be still. 

The Tower gym offered it all – empty, nothing louder than the echo of a weight dropping to the ground. It was the kind of noise you needed, it was the release your body was begging for. This was the place where you could move your way through the internal noise. You could sweat it out. Punch those intense feelings away. 

The current victim of your frustration was the punching bag, each strike against it vibrates up your arms like lightning. You finally felt like yourself again, the feral rhythm of your fists, the feeling of your strength, how accurate all your hits were. It reminded you of how accurate and sure of yourself you always used to be. 

You feel your sweat drip down your chest. Your hoodie was tied around your waist, your sports bra sticking onto you like a second layer of skin. It was incredible – you didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to think. 

You didn’t want to think of how you managed to fumble your forming friendships. Or about how even being forced into a team, you manage to isolate yourself from everyone. Not about how Bob looked at Yelena like she hung the stars herself. Not about how easy it is for him to welcome her into his embrace, or how unguarded he is around her. You didn’t want to think about how your chest had pulled so tightly at the sight, you felt like you could barely breathe. 

“Woah,” a voice called out from the entrance of the gym, loud and sharp enough to separate you from your focus. “I never want to be on your bad side.” 

You pause mid-swing, averting your gaze to the doorway. You find John Walker leaning against the frame, sleeves pushed up and his arms crossed. He lets out a light whistle, a half smirk spread across his face. 

You wipe off your forehead with the back of your wrist, becoming too aware of your apperance.

“If you annoy me enough, you might become the new bag.” You say, and gratifyingly, Walker lets out a rare laugh. 

“Mind if I join you?” He asks while stepping inside. 

You reply with a shrug, turning back towards the mats. “It’s a free gym.” 

He drops his bag and follows you, silently joining your workout. 

In no time, it led to the two of you on the sparring floor, bodies intertwined and slamming into each other. The first few minutes of the spar was silent, just heavy breathing and grunting surrounding the two of you. It was the kind of silence neither of you mind. 

“Who pissed you off?” and then, Walker spoke. 

You don’t reply, trying to force yourself out of his hold. 

“C’mon, y/n.” he hisses, nudging your knee with his, holding onto you. “Your going at it like this is personal.”

Twisting your body, you manage to escape his hold. You stumble in front of him, landing on your knees. You shoot him a glare, “This is how you make friends?” 

He flashes you a toothy grin, “I mean, it’s working. Isn’t it?” 

You roll your eyes, but a chuckle manages to escape your lips. Walker offers you his hand, helping you up from the ground. 

You stretch your body for a second, rolling your shoulders before responding back to him. “Let’s spar. Talking optional.” 

Walker takes a step back, raising his hands in the air as if he’s surrendering. “Optional? That’s a shame. You have such a nice voice.” 

You scoff at his antics as you stepp into stance. He follows suit, preparing for the first most. You begin to stab at him once, then twice, and he braces it well. His arms are strong and hands steady, not holding back. It wasn’t long before you started picking up the pace, the sound of shuffling feet and strikes drowned out any of the previous spiraling thoughts you had. 

Walker ducks one of your strikes and smirkes as you lightly stumble. “You sure you not training for a match with anyone specifically?” 

“If you keep talking, I might be.” 

His laugh is loud and smile is wide, “Feisty. I like it.”

You can’t help form a grin across your face, and before you know it, you let out a full body laugh. Breathless. Genuine. 

You dodge another playful jab and attempt to shove Walker backward. He managed to catch your wrist mid-shove, and twisted it softly. It messes with your momentum, causing you to stumble into his chest, letting out a quiet yelp. His hand settles at your waist, pulling your bodies closer together. 

“Woah,” he teased. “If you wanted to dance, all you had to do was ask.” 

“I’ll make sure to lead.” you winked at him, pushing him back playfully. 

“So you’re one of those.” 

The two of you laughed, and for a moment, it was nice. This was the first time in weeks you weren’t spending your free time alone. It was simple. Flirty. Harmless.

 It was fun. 

Until the door opened.

The sight makes your stomach drop for reasons unknown to you. 

It was Bob. 

He stood at the doorway, his broad shoulder tense, arms to his sides and fingers lightly fidgeting against one another. Even under the low gym light, he was golden. 

He stood there silently, not saying a word. His eyes were too busy locked on the scene in front of him. 

Your body is pressed against Walkers, his hand still hovering near your hip. Your cheeks are flushed, your in your sports bra, your smiling like before and laughing like Walker was God's gift to Earth. 

Bob’s face was unreadable. He was too still, too quiet. 

“Hey,” you managed to choke out, still a little out of breath. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” 

Bob didn’t look at you, his eyes still laying on Walker's hand on your body. “Didn’t realize I was interupting.”

Walker shifts, hands still on you. He doesn’t notice your body tensing up or your breath becoming staggered. “We’re just messing around. You want in?” 

Bob’s eyes flicked to you, and for a second, you think you see his brown eyes quickly shift to gold. You can’t put into words the emotion going on behind his eyes, but it isn’t just irritation. 

“No,” Bob says flatly. “I’m good.” 

With that, he turns his body and walks out. 

“Uh…” Walker finally releases you, helping you find your balance as your bodies seperate from each other. “Did I miss something?” 

You shook your head slowly, trying to prevent your body from freezing or your mind becoming a frenzy. The gym that was once your safe space is now added to one of the places you are going to have to avoid. There’s a weight in your chest that is settling like concrete the longer you stand there. 

“I’m gonna shower.” You say softly before leaving to your last sanctuary: your room. 

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The halls of the Tower always manage to feel too long when you don’t want to be found. 

You try to take the short way to your room, quickly leaving the bathroom as soon as you finish your post-workout shower. You try to ignore the uncomfortable dampness of your hair, or the chill spreading through your body under your over-sized nightwear. The only thing you want more than anything is to be alone in your room. You want to shake off the unnerving weight pressing down on your ribs. You feel guilty without having a reason to be. You feel like you did something wrong. You tell yourself that you might just be flustered, Bob just happened to catch you off-guard in a compromising position. It could have been anyone, and you’d probably feel the same way. It didn’t mean anything. 

But then you remember his eyes. How he looked at you (even though he was trying not to). He didn’t just look irritated or disappointed. But something else. 

You managed to finally turn to the last corner – but then you were stopped short. 

He was there, leaning against the wall outside of your room. Your sanctuary. The place that was supposed to be safe. 

His arms are crossed, head down like he’d been waiting on your arrival for some time. His hair caught the soft glow of the overhead lights, casting warm shadows across his cheekbones. You can see his chest rise and fall at a steady pace, like he’s focusing on it. He looks so calm on the outside, but you knew him too well. 

His jaw was tight. His posture was tense. If you didn’t look close enough, you’d miss the slight frown forming from the corner of his lips. 

“Bob..” 

He looked up slowly at the sound of your voice. 

“Hey.” His voice was quiet, but not soft as it was once before. It wasn’t gentle or warm. It was just quiet. 

You shift awkwardly, looking down at the droplets falling to the ground from the ends of your hair. You’re determined to look anywhere but at him. “Did you need something?”

“I think we need to talk.”

You sigh, slowly nodding your head. You slowly go past him, still not looking up. You unlock the door, stepping inside as Bob follows behind you, then closes the door behind him.

The lamp was the only light on in your roon, an amber gold hue shining a dim light around the two of you. You stand near the bed, holding your damp towels awkwardly. Bob stayed close to the door, like he didn’t have permission to come closer. 

The silence seemed to stretch on forever, the two of you sneaking glances at each other, waiting for the other to speak first.

Then, Bob lets out a deep exhale. “Are you mad at me?”

The question hurt. Hitting you like a punch to the gut. 

“No..why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs, his voice slowly growing sharper in frustration. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No I haven’t –”

“Yes, you have,” he interrupts. “You ditched me on movie night, which was your idea. You stopped hanging out in the lounge. You sprint out of a room when I walk in. And then today…” his voice trails off, his jaw twitching before he begins to speak again. “Today I saw you. I saw you all over Walker.” 

You swallowed, the feeling of guilt crawling over your body again. “We were just training.” 

Bob nodded slowly, finally looking you in the eyes as if he was looking for answers. “Right. Just training.” 

“Bob…”

“I’m not mad,” he said between breaths, trying to calm himself. His voice is quiet again. “I just..I don’t understand what I did. If I even did anything. Did I bother you or something?”

Your throat tightens. Your fingers fidget against the towel in your hands, finding comfort in squeezing something. “No. It’s not that.”

“Then what?” His voice cracks with something raw, something new. “Was I around you too much? Talk to you too often? Did I..make you uncomfortable? Whatever I did…I…I think you need to tell me.” 

“You didn’t,” You said quickly, trying to ease his mind. You toss the towels in a bean bag not too far from you. You slowly begin to take a step forward. “Bob, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why are you pulling away from me?”

Your mouth opens lightly, but nothing comes out. How can you explain a feeling you don’t understand? How could you explain what you’re going through without shattering the friendship you’ve built? How can you tell him I hate seeing you smile at her like that without sounding crazy? 

While being so deep in thought, you don’t notice how Bob was currently looking at you. Really looking. Like he was searching for answers from your face.

Your silence and worrisome look on your face broke something in him. It’s as if he was finally able to connect the dots that have been in front of him all along. 

“You’re…jealous?” He asks, both you and himself. “That’s what this is?”

You flinch – the word you’ve been avoiding like the plague finally making it to the surface. “I’m not–”

“You are,” he takes a step forward. “You’re jealous of…Yelena?”

Your heart pounds against your rib cage, your ears become hot and you feel your body tense. This isn’t what you wanted, this wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have. 

“Why?” He asked. “Why does it bother you?”

You shake your head. You don’t want to say anything, but it spills out against your will. “Because – because I see how you look at her. How you smile at her. How comfortable you are with her. And I know you care about her. And I know I shouldn’t care, it’s stupid and petty, but I do care. I hate that I care because it really doesn’t make sense and –” 

Your voice broke, eyes widening as you just realized what you’ve said. You press your hands to your face, hoping to disappear. This was all too overwhelming, the adrenaline rushing too fast to know what to do with it. 

“I didn’t..I dont want to feel this way,” you whisper through your fingers. 

Bob was quiet for a second. A part of you hopes he’s so repulsed, so turned off that he just walks away and avoids you the same way you’ve been avoiding him. 

“What way?” He asks softly. 

You dropped your hands, heart in your throat. Your voice is working before your brain is, your thoughts and feelings finally being exposed to both you and Bob. 

“I think I’m in love with you.” 

You said it, quickly and softly. They were barely there, if Bob wasn’t listening carefully, it could’ve been missed. But as quiet as you were, it rang like thunder against the windowstill. 

You see Bob staring at you, stunned and speechless. 

You begin to rush to fill the silence, coming to terms with what you just confessed. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did. I thought it would just go away. I wanted it to go away, or at least for it to stop hurting. But then today, I saw you and you saw me, and God – I'm just so sorry. I dont want to ruin anything –”

“Stop,” he said quietly. 

You froze, afraid and relieved. It was finally out there. You finally admit to yourself what you’ve been going through, and now he knows too. But you were afraid that you would lose him, and that him not knowing would have been better.

Bob takes two steps forward, slowly as if he is waiting for you to tell him to stop. He cups your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks. His eyes were shining, warmed and in awe at the sight of you flushed in front of him. 

“You didn’t ruin anything.” He says.

Then he kissed you. 

It was slow, as if he’s been waiting to do this forever. Like he’s savoring this moment, wanting to remember how your mouth felt against his. 

You melt into him, hands clutching the front of his shirt, trying to pull him closer. 

Your lips part with a soft sigh, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time.” He whispers against you. “I didn’t think you felt the same.” 

You let out a shaky left, still gripping to his shirt. Slight tears cling to your lashes. “We’re both idiots.” 

“Maybe,” he whispered while pecking your forehead. “But we’re idiots together.” 

You kiss him again – this time deeper, more certain, more hungry. His arms wrap around you fully, pulling your body close to his. This time he was less hesitant, less shy. 

Your hands tangle in his hair as he gently backs you towards your bed. There is no rush in the way he touches you, only devotion. It’s as if he was memorizing every breath, every sound coming out of your mouth, every shiver. 

The back of your knee hit the mattress, and he pauses. Slowly parting his lips from yours.  

“You okay?” He murmured against your lips. 

You nodded, breathless. “More than okay.” 

He gives you his soft smile that beams across his face, it makes your chest ache. Oh, how’ve you missed him. 

His hands are careful as they slide under your shirt, fingers brushing up your sides, tracing your skin with feather-light touches. Goosebumps bloom across his skin, finally being able to feel you. He slowly peeled the shirt over your head, slow and unrushed, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“You’re perfect.” he said, his voice low and awed. 

You begin to tug at his shirt in response, “So are you.”

He chuckled at your playfulness, letting you pull his shirt off. 

You take a quick look at him, the way his hidden muscles flex at every movement, the definition across his chest. You can't help but have your hand trace along his chest, adoring evey inch of him. 

You look up to see him looking at you as if you were the only thing in the world he could see. 

You slowly lean back on the bed and he follows, settling over you gently. He braces himself on his forearms as he kisses you – slower, lazier, like he never wanted to let the moment end. 

Your legs tangle beneath him, his hands trace lines down your arms and outside of your thigh. You let out a soft gasp as his lips travel to the edge of your jaw, then the side of your throat, and the line of your collarbone. 

“Tell me when to stop..” he whispers between kisses.

“I won’t” you whisper. “I want this..I want you.”

His breath hitches at your response, his grip around you tightening. His hand trails down your body, before finding your most sensitive area. At first contact, your hips shift lightly, causing Bob to press down slightly firmer. He circles you – slow and soft, the pleasure causing your head to tip back. Bob begins to place kisses ontop of your exposed throat, wet and firm, like he was trying to leave a mark – like he wants to prove to everyone that you belong to him. 

His circles catch up to your moans. Every gasp and whisper results in him pressing harder, circling faster. 

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers into your ear. “You sound so perfect.” Your back arches at his soft praises, there’s a heat building up between your legs. He has you wrecked and he hasn’t even entered you yet, you’re a whimpering mess who is struggling to ask for more. 

Bob places a kiss back to your mouth, it’s sloppy and desperate. He’s moaning into you, your reaction to his touch is making him insane. It’s not enough – he wants you a wreck, he wants you to beg and plead, he wants you to want him the same way he’s been wanting you. 

His fingers dip lower, and he feels you. Soaked, warm, you're throbbing at his touch. It takes everything in him to not choke at the sensation, he focuses on your whimpering to keep him at ease. You arch deep into his fingers, thrusting into him for friction. 

“Oh my g-god…” you manage to breathe out. Bob hisses as your nails dig into his back, his fingers following the rhythm of your hips. Your moans slowly begin to get louder, your pace on his fingers increasing. 

“You can cum for me,” Bob whispers into your ear, as if he’s giving you permission to release. 

And you do, whimpering his name, your hips dropping to the mattress. He is still slowly pumping in and out of you, still pleasuring you as you come down from your high. 

You let out a disappointed sigh when his fingers leave you, but you’re quickly surprised when you see him put his fingers in his mouth – tasting you. He moans as he savours the taste of you, of what he’s done to you. 

He lowers his head, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him close, slowly separating your thighs, thrusting up against him. You feel him, he’s hard and his tip is brushing up against you. 

“I want you…” you whisper against him.

“God…you drive me crazy.” he whimpers out.

After trailing soft kisses around you, he slowly begins to ease into you. The world around you shrunk – the only thing existing is breath, skin, and heat. 

It started off slow and tender, his movements careful as if this could end any moment. He begins to murmur your name like a prayer, rocking into you with patient rhythem. He was paying attention to every reaction you had, making sure to keep note of everything he did that felt good to you. 

“I’ve got you” he whispers into you, your moaning against him as his hands grip at your hips, pushing himself deeper inside you. He groans as he feels you gripping him, your slick causing the sound of your skins slapping to echo around the room. 

“You feel so good around me…you feel so good,” his cheeks are flushed. His thrusts begin to stutter, no longer feeling controlled like before. Bob is allowing himself to lose himself into you, gripping you harder and kisses sloppier. “I’m – oh, I-’m –”

You kiss his jaw, rocking your hips in return. The feeling of your clit rubbing against him and his fullness thrusting overwhelming you, causing your second orgasm to approach.  

“Me too…keep going…gonna cum for you,” you manage out, before you whine out multiple “fuck’s” as you cum around him. Feeling you finish while he was inside you was all it took for Bob to cum with a broken gasp, releasing all of him inside of you. He continues to pump into you slowly after you both cum, kissing you through the shuddering aftershocks. 

He gets off of you, plopping himself besides you. You curl into his arms, your bodies warm and hearts full. He presses a kiss at the top of your forehead, caressing your shoulder with the hand that's to your side. 

“I never want you to ignore me like that again, I won’t let you.” He confesses.

You hold onto him tighter, apologetically. “I won’t. I promise.”

And for the first time, the ache in your chest was gone. The endless months of doubts and feelings of uncertainty no longer existed. 

The only thing left was Bob, and finally feeling like you belong.

[partyven0m]

omg hi i just read ur kris x reader fic and i actually love it sm .. can i req a kris x reader where like. reader has a FAT crush on them and they’re gonna try asking them out to the festival… pleek and tank u👅

'If you meant it'

in which everyone assumes you'd be asking kris to the town festival... everyone except you that is.

a/n!!: tysm 4 the request!! <333 this is def a lot more dramatic and complicated than it needed to be BUT im a sucker for the miscommunication trope and like... what r u gonna do abt it? go find a different kris fic to read? there r none!!! ♡ (jokes aside i PROMISE ill write something thats just pure tooth rotting fluff soon sry!!!)

You were in love with Kris.

And not the normal, passing kind of love, either. Not the kind you could play cool, or nonchalant about.

This was the kind of love where your diary had pages describing the color of their eyes and the curl of their lashes. The kind where you practiced saying their name under your breath on the walk home, baked cookies the night before just because you thought they could use something sweet.

You followed them everywhere. Not in a weird way, but in the way where you just happened to end up wherever they were. And if that meant walking the long way to class or sitting silently next to them during lunch while they stared at the wall, then so be it. You were committed.

“Do you even breathe when you’re around them?” Susie had asked once, voice halfway between teasing and impressed. “You’re like a dog. Like a really… loyal, gross, lovesick dog.”

You hadn’t taken it as an insult. Honestly, you kind of beamed.

It wasn’t like Kris ever told you to go away. They didn’t talk much to begin with, but they let you hang around, let you talk to them, let you hand them little folded notes you spent all class decorating.

They even accepted the lemon bar you brought that one time, though you were pretty sure they didn’t like lemon. You’d drawn a smiley face on the napkin. It had taken you three tries to get the eyes even.

But no matter how many compliments you whispered, or sweet things you did, Kris never really… reacted. Not in the way you hoped they would. They were nice. Kind, even. Sometimes they looked at you with this soft expression that made your heart skip a number of beats. But they never said anything back. Never returned the compliments. Never asked you questions. Never truly engaged.

You told yourself it was just how they were. That maybe, one day, they’d realize how serious you were. That you weren’t just being silly.

That this wasn’t just a phase.

But it was getting harder to believe. Especially when they kept looking at you like they didn’t really believe you. Like maybe, deep down, they thought you’d grow out of it.

You hoped they were wrong. Because you didn’t feel like you were growing out of anything.

If anything, your feelings multiplied every time they looked at you.

And you bet your feelings would still be there by tomorrow, and the day after that, and by the day of the festival, and into the following year.

. . .

The last bell had rung, and the hallways became loud with the sound of chatter.

You clutched the strap of your school bag as you stepped out onto the front steps of the school, letting the autumn breeze ruffle your hair. The sun hung low, soft orange light shined across the school lawn, and there they were.

Kris, Susie, and Noelle walking ahead on the sidewalk like they always did, laughing at some dumb thing Susie had said. You stayed back, hanging near the bike racks, pretending to dig around in your bag like you weren’t watching them out of the corner of your eye.

You didn’t even mean to stare this much. It was as if your eyes automatically locked on them anytime they were in your vicinity or something, dragging you along behind them. You just liked being near them, even from a distance. Hearing their voice. Watching how they walked with their hands in their pockets and their hair being blown by the wind. It made your chest ache in the warmest, softest way.

Susie suddenly elbowed Kris with a smirk, jerking her thumb over her shoulder.

“Your little puppy’s back there again.”

You froze, breath catching in your throat. Not that you hadn’t heard the nickname before, it wasn’t exactly subtle, but still, hearing it like that made your ears burn.

Kris glanced back just briefly. Just for a second. Then looked forward again.

“They’re just going that way.” they mumbled, quiet and clipped. Almost too casual. Brushing it off like it was nothing.

Noelle made a little humming sound. “I think it’s sweet…”

But you weren’t listening anymore. Your hands gripped your bag tighter as something unsure poked at your heart. You turned your eyes down toward the sidewalk and finally started walking in the opposite direction, heart feeling just a little heavier than it had before.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. That their obvious disinterest wasn't a big deal.

Not knowing that just a few feet away, Kris was overthinking the interaction just the same.

They walked a few steps behind Susie and Noelle, quiet, hands shoved into their pockets. When Susie had made the joke, they barely even looked up.

A sharp kick sent a pebble tumbling down the street.

It wasn’t fair. The way you followed them around, smiled at everything they did, said things that made their chest ache. The way you looked at them like you meant it.

'Because… you don't.'

Just a phase. A harmless crush.

That’s what they told themself every time you clung to their sleeve or gave them some sweet, silly little gift. Just a phase. You’d get over it. You had to.

Because if you didn’t, if you actually meant it, then… you’d say that… wouldn't you? 

This was a problem Kris has always had, ever since they were little. The way people expected them to just know how they felt. To pick up on hints, read between the lines, decipher a look like it was obvious.

Because it never was. Not to them.

They were good at observing, sure. But when it came to feelings, especially feelings about themself, it was like everything became a guessing game. If someone liked them, they expected to be told directly. No guessing. No assuming. No confusion

And you were… the most confusing of them all. And they despised that. 

But at the same time, they couldn’t push you away.

Because truth be told, they liked your company. Your gifts, your compliments, your presence as a whole. 

So they stayed quiet. Hoping you’d drift away on your own.

And hated how much they didn’t want you to.

.  .  .

The walk home felt longer than usual.

Maybe it was just the way the sky was starting to gray with clouds, or how the wind blew a little harder, or how you kept staring at the ground even though you weren’t really watching where you stepped. Your hands stayed shoved in your pockets the whole time, thumb brushing the edge of the wrapped candy you had meant to give to Kris after class.

You’d been carrying it around since the day before. It wasn’t anything fancy. Just a little piece of chocolate wrapped in pink foil. You’d folded a small note to go along with it, writing their name on the tag three times, trying to get the letters just right. Just something small. Just something to make them smile.

But it had stayed in your pocket.

You knew they liked sweet things. You knew how they always quietly accepted anything you gave them, even if they didn’t say much. But today, something had felt off. You hadn’t been brave enough. And the way Kris had avoided Susie’s teasing all day, not even glancing your way, had sent your stomach sinking.

Still, you told yourself it was okay.

By the time you reached your street, the wind had picked up and the trees were rustling low and loud. You looked up once then kept walking until you were in front of your house.

Inside, the quiet was deafening.

You removed your shoes carefully, hung your bag on its usual hook, and made your way towards your room.

It welcomed you with it's colors and familiar clutter.

You hesitated before sitting at your desk.

The small note was still crinkled but neat. You set the chocolate down beside your lamp and stared at it for a long time.

It wasn’t the first time you’d brought them something. You did it all the time. You liked seeing their expression (or lack thereof), liked when they took it without saying much but always remembered to eat it later and tell you they liked it. You liked how they didn’t tease you like Susie did, or blink at you all confused like Noelle. Kris just… let you like them.

And you did.

So, so much

So it stung, despite them not having said anything cruel. Because they hadn’t really a said anything at all.

You kept thinking about how easy it was for Kris to laugh with Susie, to talk softly with Noelle. How natural they looked together, how much history and closeness there was between them. You never felt out of place until you saw them all walking side by side and realized you weren’t really part of that picture.

Still, that was okay.

You opened your journal, the one that stayed tucked safely in the drawer under your pens and stickers. You flipped past the pages full of hearts and clumsy doodles of Kris’s smile, the pages filled with sweet little daydreams, like pretending they knew how much you cared, and liked you just as much back.

Tonight’s page was quieter.

You didn’t write much. Just a few honest thoughts. A soft kind of acceptance. Not sadness, not bitterness. Just something like growing up.

Maybe Kris didn’t take you seriously. Maybe they thought it was just a silly crush. And maybe… maybe they were right.

You paused, pen hovering. That part stung.

Because you knew your feelings were real.

You couldn't see a universe in which they weren't.

You loved them. Not just because you were lonely, or because they were cool, or because you were bored. You loved the way you felt around them. It was warm like rays of sunshine, fresh like a field of flowers.

But maybe Kris didn’t see it that way.

Maybe they just thought you were being cute. Harmless. Something to be humored until it passed.

So, you wrote what you could. You didn’t ask the question you’d planned to ask for weeks. You didn’t write about walking together under festival lights or sharing a snack while music played in the distance.

Instead, you wrote about how you hoped they’d have fun. That they’d laugh with Susie and Noelle. That they’d enjoy themselves, because they deserved that. They deserved to have a good time with the people they liked being around.

You smiled at that thought. A little one. Real and small and shaky.

If you really loved someone, you were supposed to want them to be happy.

You slid your notebook shut, carefully, and stood up to shove the foil wrapped candy into your desk drawer.

Tomorrow, maybe you wouldn’t cling to Kris. Maybe you wouldn’t trail after them down the hall. You wouldn’t stop liking them, of course. But maybe you’d stop hoping they liked you back.

Just a little.

You’d still smile at them. You’d still be happy when they were happy. But maybe from a bit farther away.

Because if they were going to the festival… They should go with people they liked. People who made them smile.

And if that wasn’t you, then… That was okay. You’d still root for them.

You pulled your blanket tighter and shut your eyes.

You were going to be fine.

.    .    .

Something was off.

Kris couldn’t have said why, exactly. Nothing was different. Not really. Susie was loud, Noelle was cheerful, the halls were the same muted beige. But something was off.

They realized what it was when they finally slid into their seat.

You hadn't greeted them.

You didn’t look for them, or smile happily when they walked in. There was no cookie or candy on their desk either, no handwritten sticky note with a tiny heart drawn at the bottom. No compliment. No quiet giggle. No lingering glance.

Just you, already sitting down, doodling half heartedly in your notebook with your head low.

Kris blinked.

They hesitated for a moment before clearing their throat. “…Hey.”

You looked up like you hadn’t expected them to speak. “Hi.”

And then, you smiled. Soft and small.

Polite.

Not the kind of smile that said I’ve been waiting all night just to talk to you again.

It was… normal. So normal it felt odd.

You turned back to your notebook before they could say anything else.

Kris didn’t know what to do with that. So they sat still. Thinking. Watching you from the corner of their eye. You weren’t ignoring them. Not really. You weren’t mad either. You just seemed a little… sad. Like you were trying hard not to be.

Then the realization settled slowly,

You hadn’t said good morning.

You always said good morning.

They couldn’t explain the quiet panic they felt after that. Couldn’t explain why they kept glancing your way the entire class, waiting for something familiar, some smile, a joke, a compliment, anything.

But you stayed quiet. Your head bowed.

And class went on. Peaceful. Normal.

They hated it.

.  .  .

The cafeteria was loud with the usual lunchtime energy, trays clattering, laughter and happy chatter. Kris sat at one of the tables, half-listening to Noelle ramble about something school-related. They hadn’t touched their sandwich.

Their eyes kept drifting.

You were seated at a far corner of the cafeteria with some of your other friends, quietly eating with your head down, not engaging in their conversation. No greetings. No big smile. You hadn’t even waved at them when you walked past earlier.

It was strange.

“Missing your fan club?”

Kris blinked. Susie was standing beside the table now, an apple in one hand, her tone a little mocking.

Kris raised a brow. “What?”

Susie flopped down across from them, took a bite of her apple, and nodded in your direction. “You’ve been watching them since lunch started. It’s kinda weird without ‘em glued to you, huh?”

Kris shrugged, casual. “Guess they got bored.”

They said it smoothly, like it didn’t matter. Like the way their stomach twisted at the sight of you sitting so far away was just hunger.

Susie paused mid-bite, talking with her mouth still full. “Honestly, I was sure they were gonna ask you to the festival.”

Kris didn’t respond.

She watched you a second longer, then turned her head back towards Kris. “Guess not, though.”

They stayed quiet, shoulders relaxed like nothing was wrong, but they couldn’t stop watching you. Couldn’t ignore the empty space next to them that you used to fill. Couldn’t figure out why it felt like they were missing something they never admitted they wanted.

This should’ve been fine. This was what they’d been waiting for, right?

You getting over it. Moving on. Proving it was just a phase.

So why did it feel so awful?

They looked away again, trying not to sigh.

They should’ve felt relieved.

“…You don’t think they’ll still ask?”

Kris’s voice was low, like the question had slipped out on accident. They didn’t even face Susie when they said it, eyes looking to a random corner of the cafeteria.

Susie blinked. She tilted her head, brow raised slightly, and then it hit her.

After a pause she shrugged, biting into her apple again and backtracking on her words. “Pfft. Probably will. Maybe they’re just having a rough day or whatever. Give it a day or two.”

Kris nodded once, slowly. They had nothing to say to that. Because they didn’t believe it.

If it were just a bad day, you’d be next to them. Whispering complaints. Tugging on their sleeve, and sulking. You wouldn’t be sitting all the way over there, quiet, like they didn’t exist.

This wasn’t just a mood.

Something had changed.

And Kris didn’t know what to do with the part of them that didn’t want it to.

.   .   .

A day or two she said. 

It had been three days.

Three days since you’d stopped walking with them.

Three days since you’d stopped saying good morning.

Three days since you started pretending you weren’t obsessed with them.

And Kris was starting to lose it.

They wouldn’t say that out loud, of course. On the outside, they were still the same, calm, quiet, unreadable. But inside? It was awful. Every morning, they found themself unconsciously slowing down near your locker, waiting for your usual smile, only to be met with silence.

They kept catching themself watching you across any room, wondering if maybe you’d look back. But you never did.

The worst part was how… normal you seemed. Not upset. Not angry. Just distant.

And Kris hated it.

Not because you weren’t being annoying in the usual way. But because it made them feel like they’d imagined all of it, your sweetness, your devotion, your love. They’d been so sure it was just a crush, one you'd get over. But now that they were being proved right...

It hurt.

They leaned against the lockers after class that day, eyes narrowed at the floor, eyes glaring daggers at it. Susie came up beside them, chewing gum and raising an eyebrow.

“Trying to explode the building with your mind? Doesn't work, trust me.”

Kris didn’t answer. Just looked up at her before their eyes drifted to something further away.

Susie followed their gaze and sighed. “Still acting weird, huh?”

A small shake of the head.

"You scare ‘em off or somethin'? Thought they were totally head over heels for you..." She muttered as she continued to look at you.

Kris didn’t reply to that one either.

Because if they did, they might’ve said something like “Me too.”

Or worse. “I wish they still were.”

.  .  .

You stopped looking for them in the halls. Stopped trying to catch their eye.

It hurt, but what else could you do? They seemed fine. Like your absence hadn’t made a difference. If they’d cared, even a little, they would’ve shown it.

So you smiled when it hurt, stayed quiet when you wanted to speak, and told yourself it was better this way.

Maybe it really had all been one-sided. Maybe they had only ever tolerated you, your compliments, your sweets, your clingy, lovesick puppy crush, because they were a kind person.

But you didn’t let yourself move. Didn’t let yourself cave. Because how could you walk back to someone who had never really wanted you there in the first place?

You glanced across the cafeteria. Kris sat between Susie and Noelle, expression unreadable, as always.

You wished they looked a little less okay. Then maybe this wouldn’t feel so much like rejection.

. . .

But Kris wasn't okay.

It was getting worse. And every time they saw you, ducking your head, walking fast, ignoring them, they wanted to grab you by the wrist and just ask.

What happened?

It made their chest tight. It made them angry. Not at you, never at you, but at the situation. At how bad everything had gotten, and at how helpless they felt to fix it.

They’d spent so long convincing themself your feelings weren’t real. That it was a crush. A game. Something you’d grow out of.

But now that you were gone, they were desperate to have you close again. And it terrified them.

Because if you’d meant it, if you’d really felt something…

Then you’d walked away for a reason.

And Kris wasn’t sure they were ready to hear what that reason was.

.   .  .

Lunch was loud, as usual.

Susie was halfway through the lunchbox Noelle had packed her, rice stuck to her cheek, mouth full, talking anyway.

“They ask you to the festival yet?” she mumbled around a mouthful of food.

Kris blinked, caught off guard. Their gaze flicked across the cafeteria automatically, searching, like they couldn’t help it.

They shrugged, reaching for their drink, trying to play it cool. “No.”

Susie swallowed, eyeing them for a second. “Huh.”

That was all she said. Just that.

But the second she looked away, Kris’s expression shifted.

They hadn’t realized it until she brought it up.

You hadn’t asked.

You always said weird stuff, bold stuff, over-the-top crush stuff.

And now… nothing.

Kris pushed their food around their tray, appetite gone.

They told themself that it didn’t matter. That it was better this way.

Kris kicked their sneaker against the cafeteria floor.

They didn’t understand.

Wasn’t this what they wanted? For you to grow out of it?

They should’ve felt relieved. But they didn’t.

They needed answers, before their head exploded.

.    .    .

It started with something small.

They don’t leave the classroom right away when the bell rings, instead lingering near your desk like they’re organizing something in their bag. You glance up once, nervous, and then quickly back down, pretending to fix the straps of your own.

They wait a few seconds longer, like they’re giving you a chance.

A chance to ask them to the festival.

But you say nothing. You don’t even smile.

That night, Kris tells themself it was fine. That maybe you were just tired.

. . .

The day after, they try again.

They take the long way to the cafeteria just so they can pass you in the hall.

Your eyes catch for half a second. You offer a tiny wave.

And Kris says “hey” like it’s no big deal, like they’re not secretly hoping that you’ll stop them, say something, do anything... You don’t.

. . .

By Friday, Kris has almost given up.

They sit at the end of their table at lunch so they’re in your eyeline. They hold the door open for you between breaks. 

All while thinking, maybe if I’m just… available, they’ll say it. They’ll ask. And I’ll know.”

But it wasn’t working.

And with every passing day of you not asking, their patience wears thinner. The confusion deepens. They tell themselves your crush was fake. That you’re over it. That they should be happy about that.

But it doesn’t feel like relief.

It feels like the worst news they've ever heard, thoughts strong enough to split their brain in two.

Kris didn’t hear the end of whatever Susie was saying.

Not after they caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of their eye, slipping out of the cafeteria with your tray barely touched. Head down. Shoulders sagging.

They were standing before they even thought about it, the lunch table loud against the floor. The edge of their tray caught their sleeve and nearly clattered to the ground, but they really couldn't care less.

Susie blinked. “Yo? Where are you–”

But Kris was already walking. Fast.

They didn’t know what they were going to say.

They just knew they couldn’t take it anymore.

They found you just outside the cafeteria doors, halfway to the stairs, and called out without meaning to,

“Why haven’t you asked me?”

You turned slowly, confused. 

“What…?”

Kris stopped in their tracks, brows furrowed.

“The festival.” they said, voice tight, just barely keeping itself together. “You haven’t asked me.”

Your mouth opened, then closed again.

“I waited.” they went on, frustration in their voice. “I gave you time. I thought you building up to it– or– I don’t know. But every day you don’t say anything it’s just–”

They made a noise of exasperation and looked away.

“Why aren't you pretending to like me anymore?” they muttered finally. 

You stared at them, stunned.

“Pretending…?”

You echoed, like you hadn’t heard right. Your voice came out smaller than you meant it to.

“I wasn’t pretending?”

They didn’t look at you, jaw clenched tight.

“All the nice things I said. All the time I spent with you. I just really liked being around you.”

You looked down. “Maybe too much.”

"Every time I followed you around like, like some loser.” You continued, trying to laugh, but it broke halfway out.

“I really liked you. I still like you. But you–” your voice caught, “you never looked like you believed me. Like you wanted me around at all.”

You looked down at your shoes, blinking fast.

“So I stopped trying. That’s all.”

There was a pause before,

“If you liked me,” they started slowly “then why didn’t you just say so?”

You blinked. “I… I thought I did.”

Kris looked at you, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You were always around. You… brought me stuff. Smiled at me. Said I looked nice. I just… I didn’t know if any of that meant anything.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

“People do things like that all the time,” they continued, their words coming out faster with each passing second. “Sometimes just to be nice. Or to mess around. I didn’t want to assume… So I kept waiting.” they said, voice even softer now.

“For you to just say it. That you liked me.”

You swallowed, hands twisting in the hem of your sleeves.

“I thought you knew,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I really thought… I was being obvious.”

Your voice cracked a little at the end, and you looked down. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I didn’t want to push too hard. So I just… I tried to show you.”

You looked up again. “I thought I was showing you every day.”

Kris didn’t answer right away.

And for a second, you panicked, worried you’d said too much, or not enough, or the wrong thing completely.

But then their expression shifted. .

“…You did.” they said finally. Quiet, almost like they were admitting it to themself more than to you. “I just didn’t know how to… read it.”

Another pause.

You shifted, a little nervous under their gaze. “I… I really do like you, you know. I wasn’t pretending.”

Kris looked away, scratching the back of their neck. “Yeah. I… I get that now.”

A beat passed.

“I didn’t mean to act like it didn’t matter,” they mumbled. “It did. I was just– I don’t know. Kinda stupid about it.”

You let out a tiny laugh. “Well. I was stupid too.”

Kris glanced back at you, and for the first time all week, you both looked a little less tense.

You swallowed. “I know it’s late, and I probably ruined everything by waiting but… do you still wanna go to the festival?”

Kris blinked.

Then, slowly, they closed their eyes and let out this big, shaky exhale. Shoulders sagging with relief. And when they looked up at you again, it was with the goofiest, most grateful smile you’d ever seen on their face.

“…Yeah.” they said, almost laughing. “Yeah. I do.”

You let out a breath too, full of disbelief and shaky nerves. “Okay. Yeah. Cool. Coolcoolcool.”

The two of you stayed quiet after that, goofy silly smiles reflecting each other as relief washed over you.

. . .

a/n2: sry for the sudden ending! I felt like i was dragging it ( ;´ - `;) BUT I DO RLLY LIKE THISSS even tho it took me like 4 daysUGH I NEED TO WRITE MORE SELF-DOUBTING KRIS LIKE IDKY BUT SOMETHING ABT CHARACTERIZING THEM LIKE THIS IS JUST SOOO FUNNNN.... would u guys still love me if i wrote them as a stalker....... loser kris who has simply given up on ever confessing their feelings so they stalk and get jealous of anyone able to freely talk to u instead... someone sedate me.

bye.

[joeldarling]

The Flu - Oldman!Joel x F!reader

Summary: Reader gets sick and her old man Joel takes care of her.

Warnings: Light spicy, stablished relationship, f!reader, Joel cums inside, no reader description. THE glasses mention.

Word count: 1k.

A/N: Got sick yesterday and this popped out of my mind this afternoon. It’s just a bit of soft with a bit of spicy and the fact that I can’t contain myself; I am on my knees for oldman!Joel. As usual, English it’s not my first language, so, sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes. You can see more of my works on my masterlist and my requests are open! 💌

You got the flu during one of your patrols, it was cold outside from the snow and everyone was sneezing, maybe they had passed to you, maybe you passed to them. You couldn’t be sure.

You arrived home feeling your body heavy, and it was one of the rare nights Joel had off. He quickly noticed how sick you seemed. You didn't want to cause him any more trouble, but you couldn't hide it.

Joel and you have been together for some time now, in a silent agreement where you share a house, a bed, and multiple orgasms, but don't need any verbal agreements. You had always been his anyway, and even with the age difference, you couldn't care less. Joel was in his sixties but still had more energy than many of the boys in Jackson, and he always made sure you were satisfied, that you had everything you needed—even when all you needed was just him.

He warmed up the bathwater for you, slowly removed all your layers of damp clothing, and made sure your hair was tied up securely enough so it wouldn't get wet. He blew your nose, and you both laughed at the fact that you looked more like a drenched animal than anything else. Joel, even tired from his long day, still found ways to make your journey lighter.

Soon after the bath, he dried every part of your body, and even with desire running through his every glance, Joel dressed you with devotion, giving you one of his old long-sleeved shirts, warm enough so you could sleep comfortably through the night without feeling cold. He put you to bed and prepared a cup of tea, promising that in the morning, he would get something more effective than that. Even finding your silence strange, he didn't complain when you snuggled close to him after he turned off all the lights, trembling slightly at his touch.

Joel talked to you until you fell asleep, the fever making your body as hot as could be and causing the shirt to become soaked with sweat. In the middle of the night, he brought the glass of water you asked for without hesitation or complaint. He brushed the hair away from your face and kissed your forehead, your cheeks, your red and sore nose from so much sneezing, and finally, your lips. His kiss was sweet, it sounded like home. Joel was your home after all.

“I promise I will find ya’ sum’ medicine by the mornin’.” He said, as he pulled you closer, making your heart skip a beat or two. He was completely enamored with every part of you, even when he didn't feel enough, too old with the glasses he wore and his moody expressions. But, you always made sure to assure him how happy he made you, and this cycle of familiarity, even during the apocalypse, made him feel like the luckiest man in the world, worthy of some happiness after so much loss.

He remained in a light sleep throughout the night, making sure you were okay, alive, and breathing. It was just the flu, of course, but with limited resources, everything felt truly more serious. Joel, however, found it slightly strange when, almost near dawn, you tilted your hip towards him, and knowing where that would lead, he hesitated. You were sick, after all.

“Joel, please…” You asked in a hoarse and low voice, rubbing your hip against his. Joel was holding you tightly, and it didn't take long for his body to react, pure instinct. Even sick, it was like a need to have him, and part of you found it completely unfair, after his long day, not to satisfy him the way he deserved.

How could he deny you anything when you asked like that? It was almost impossible.

Joel obeyed your request, taking off your panties and the worn pajama pants he was wearing, feeling how wet you already were before going on, hesitating when he heard you cough.

“M’darlin’ are ya’ sure ‘bout that?” He was making sure you wanted that, but when you once again moved your body towards him, he didn't ask again, entering slowly and giving you some time to adjust; Joel was big enough that even after so many times, these moments were still necessary.

It was nothing like the times you fucked until dawn tirelessly; it was slow, affectionate, his lips on your neck while his hands played with and pinched your nipples. Joel whispered sweet words in your ear, the low moans and the sound of your bodies colliding gently as the sun rose over the horizon were all you heard.

“Cum inside of me, please, Joel. That’s the only medicine I need.” You pleaded, on the verge of reaching your peak, feeling your body soften with the growing pleasure, and he groaned a little louder.

“Gonna fill ya’ up with my milk, sweetheart. Don’t worry ‘bout it. This sweet ‘n tight cunt’s all mine. My poor sick baby, daddy’s gonna give what ya’ want.” He said, his voice trembling, and as his movements became more intense, his thick accent reverberating in the back of your mind as the two of you reached a simultaneous orgasm, Joel definitely filled you with his seed.

Perhaps because of the flu, or the fact that he still remained inside you for a good few minutes, filling every possible space and covering your shoulder and the curve of your neck with kisses, you dissociated, content and definitely full of him.

Joel and you still had a few hours before you needed to head out for the day's tasks, so he slowly withdrew from you, checked your temperature once more, relieved that all that seemed to remain was the sweat from your recent activity, and pulled you to his chest again, adjusting the blankets and allowing himself to fall asleep while listening to the loud beating of your heart and your heavy breathing.

Gods, how he loved you.

[writeriguess]

Hiii i literally love ur work, could i possibly request a katsuki x healer reader where the reader is absolutely oblivious to the special treatment she gets from him? Something like she comes back from the nurses office and says shes hungry and Katsuki grumpily goes to make her some food and the ithers are like ?!?!?!

Unspoken Care

You shuffle back into the common area of the dorms, rubbing your sore shoulder absentmindedly. Recovery Girl had worked her magic, but healing still took a toll on you. The moment you step in, the usual chaos of Class 1-A greets you—Mina and Denki bickering over some game, Todoroki reading quietly, and Iida lecturing Sero about proper posture while eating.

“Back already?” Kirishima grins, noticing you first. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, just a little drained,” you sigh, plopping onto the couch. “And kinda hungry…”

Before anyone can react, Bakugo, who had been leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed, immediately pushes himself up. “Tch. Idiot,” he mutters before stomping toward the fridge.

The room goes silent.

Kirishima blinks. “Wait.”

Sero tilts his head. “Hold on.”

Mina’s jaw drops. “Did… did he just—?”

You don’t even notice the way the whole room stares in shock as Bakugo starts rummaging through the fridge, pulling out ingredients. His expression is as scowling as ever, but his movements are decisive, purposeful.

“Uh…” You tilt your head. “Bakugo?”

“What?” he snaps, not looking at you.

You blink. “What are you doing?”

He slams a pan onto the stove. “Making you food, dumbass. What does it look like?”

Another round of stunned silence. Denki, who had been sipping his drink, chokes on it. “What the hell?”

You, completely oblivious, just nod. “Oh. Thanks!”

Mina grabs your arm, eyes wide. “Girl.”

You blink at her. “What?”

Sero gestures wildly at Bakugo, who’s already chopping vegetables with practiced ease. “Since when does he just, y’know, cook for people?”

“He’s always liked cooking,” you say, shrugging.

“That’s not the point!” Kirishima waves his hands dramatically. “The point is, he’s doing it for you.”

You frown in confusion. “Yeah, because I said I was hungry?”

Everyone collectively groans. Even Todoroki looks slightly amused.

“Bro,” Denki says, rubbing his temples. “Bakugo never just makes food for people when they say they’re hungry.”

“He’s done it for me before,” Kirishima tries to argue, but Mina shoots him a look.

“No, he’s shared food with you. That’s different.” She turns back to you, eyes practically sparkling. “You’re getting the special treatment.”

You tilt your head, not understanding. “Huh?”

Kirishima leans forward. “He likes you, dumbass.”

Bakugo stiffens at the stove, grip tightening on the spatula. “The hell did you just say, Shitty Hair?”

“See?! He’s getting defensive!” Sero points, grinning.

You stare at Bakugo, the gears in your head turning at a snail’s pace. “Wait…”

Mina grabs your shoulders. “Don’t you get it? This is like, rom-com level affection! He’s totally into you!”

Your face heats up. “N-No way, he’s just—”

Bakugo suddenly turns, face red, and shoves a plate into your hands. “Eat, dumbass,” he grumbles, looking away.

You blink down at the perfectly plated food—warm, steaming, obviously made with care.

Kirishima leans closer. “He even arranged it nicely. Dude, just confess already.”

Bakugo grabs a dish towel and whips it at Kirishima’s head. “Shut the hell up!”

Everyone bursts into laughter while you stare at the plate, heart pounding. Maybe—just maybe—they had a point.

[cloudtransprncy]

Purr

Wonyoung X Male Reader | 5700 words Tags: Hookup, backshots, manhandling, rough, hot as fuck, WAP

White ears, pink ribbons, and an invitation to find out what this kitty does behind closed doors.

The house is packed. Bodies everywhere. Bass so heavy it makes your drink ripple in its plastic cup. Some frat's Halloween party where the costumes get lazier and the drinks stronger as the night stretches on. You've forgotten whose place this even is. Friend of a friend of a roommate, maybe.

You lost your friends about an hour ago—last saw them heading toward the keg in the kitchen, now they're ghosts in the digital ether, not answering texts. So you've been wandering, drink in hand, caught in the limbo of being alone in a crowded room.

You adjust your half-assed cowboy hat—the only real evidence of your last-minute costume besides the checkered shirt and boots you already owned.

Four drinks in and the world has that pleasant blur around the edges, like someone's applied a subtle filter to reality.

That's when you see her.

She's leaning against a metal railing at the edge of the makeshift dance floor, surrounded by three equally stunning friends. They're all laughing at something on someone's phone, heads bent together in that conspiratorial way that creates an invisible force field. One gloved hand wrapped around the bannister, posed in a way that seems both accidental and perfectly calculated. White cat ears with pink ribbons perched on dark hair that falls straight down her back. Her makeup is precise—eyeliner sharp enough to cut, blush high on her cheekbones, lips glossed pink. There's something distinct about her features—delicate but arresting, wide eyes that seem to absorb everything while revealing nothing.

Her outfit is simple but effective. White halter top. Pink satin skirt. Thigh-high black boots. Pink gloves past her elbows. Her body creates a silhouette that doesn't seem entirely real, like she was drawn rather than born.

She watches the crowd with this expression—not quite boredom, not quite amusement—like she's mentally captioning everyone's photos with comments they'd never want to read.

Then her eyes catch yours.

And they stay there.

You drain your drink. It's more for something to do with your hands than courage, but it serves both purposes. As you watch, a group of guys in basketball jerseys approach her circle. There's some back and forth, laughter, and then her friends are peeling away, following the guys toward the kitchen. She stays behind, waving them off with a dismissive flick of her gloved hand.

Perfect timing. You push through the crowd toward her, bumping shoulders with strangers who've already forgotten you exist before you've passed them.

Her eyes track you the whole way. She doesn't pretend she wasn't looking. When you reach her, she straightens slightly. The movement is subtle but deliberate, like everything else about her seems to be.

"And what exactly are you supposed to be?" You gesture vaguely at her outfit.

She blinks slowly, a half-second too long to be natural. "I'm a slutty cat," she says, voice softer than expected but somehow cutting through the music. "Can't you tell?"

You look at her again, taking your time now that you have permission. "I see the ears. But I don't know if that explains"—your eyes move down deliberately—"everything else."

She doesn't react to your gaze the way most would. No embarrassed laugh, no looking away. If anything, she seems to catalog your reaction, filing it away for later reference.

"And you're... what? A cowboy?" She reaches up, adjusting your hat with one gloved finger, letting it linger just long enough to make a point. "A little basic, don't you think?"

"Last minute," you admit. "Not all of us plan our slutty animal costumes weeks in advance."

She laughs—genuinely, you think. It sounds different than the practiced social laugh most people deploy at parties. "Maybe you need to get closer to appreciate the details," she says, voice dropping into something more private.

You step in. Close enough to notice things. The expensive perfume that probably costs more than your monthly coffee budget. The tiny rhinestones at the corners of her eyes that catch the light when she blinks. The almost imperceptible chip in her nail polish on her left index finger—the only flaw in an otherwise flawless presentation.

"I don't even know your name, cat girl."

"Wonyoung," she offers, gaze alternating between your eyes and mouth with scientific precision.

"Wonyoung," you repeat. "I'm—"

"Doesn't matter," she interrupts, something playful but challenging in her expression. "Tonight's not about names."

The directness catches you off guard in a way that makes your pulse quicken. You place your hand on the railing beside her hip, close but not touching. A question.

"No? What's tonight about then?"

She considers you, teeth briefly catching her bottom lip in a gesture that seems both calculated and unconscious.

"Alright, cowboy. Dream date vibes—go," she says, leaning in with playful curiosity in her eyes.

You grin casually. "Oh you know... some Boba, then some backshots."

Her eyes widen before she erupts into genuine laughter, head thrown back. "Oh wow! Honestly, I respect it." She leans in teasingly. "But I don't think you're hot enough to be saying shit like that."

"Oh, so you are checking me out?" You raise an eyebrow, amused.

She tries to suppress a smile, gives a playful scoff. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Too late—you already laughed." You smirk, stepping closer.

"It was a pity laugh," she says, biting her lip, playfully defensive. "I felt bad."

"Nah, you're a bad liar. I'm definitely your type."

There's a beat. The music pulses between you, bass dropping on some remix everyone will forget by morning. She glances down, then back up, eyes mischievous.

"Alright, fine. You're halfway to my type."

"What's the other half?" you ask.

Her voice drops lower, as she traces her fingers lightly down your arm. "Someone who can handle me."

"I can," you say, voice low, matching her energy.

She smiles, fingers tangling with yours, pulling you closer. "Let's see if you're all talk, then. My place is 10 minutes from here, and you saw my roommates leave with some guys so..."

The bass drops. The crowd surges. Bodies push and her body presses against yours for a moment. Something clicks into place. Simple chemistry. Complex consequences.

Her eyes widen slightly, then narrow with purpose. You've both just recognized something neither of you has named yet.

You look at her—really look at her—and wonder briefly about the reality that exists beyond this moment. The classes she attends. The coffee she drinks in the morning. The books on her nightstand. All the ordinary things that make up a life outside of this charged exchange.

But tonight isn't about that. Tonight is about following the electric current between two bodies and seeing where it leads.

"Lead the way," you say.

...

You don't even remember the Uber ride.

Just fragments. Her thigh against yours. Her mouth hot on your neck. "God, I want you," whispered against your ear, not caring if the driver heard. Her gloved fingers slipping under your shirt, tracing your stomach, then lower. Her climbing halfway onto your lap, skirt riding up, while the driver pretended not to notice.

"God, I can't wait to get you alone," she'd breathed against your mouth, her tongue sliding against yours again, tasting like cherry and tequila and bad decisions you'd never regret.

All you know is that now you're in her bedroom, and Wonyoung is on her knees on the edge of her mattress, those glossy lips stretched around your cock while you stand before her.

Her room is a trip—glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across the ceiling, walls plastered with posters and polaroids, fairy lights strung around her bed frame casting everything in a soft pink glow. A Hello Kitty plushie stares at you from the pillow. The contrast between the cutesy bedroom and what she's doing to you right now is fucking with your head in the best way.

"Holy fuck," you breathe, watching her take you deeper.

The cat ears are still perched on her head, though slightly askew now. Her pink gloves are soaked with spit, one hand wrapped around what she can't fit in her mouth, the other cupping and squeezing your balls. The satin fabric against your skin feels unreal—slick but with just enough friction to make your knees weak.

Spit drips down her chin, pooling on her white top. Her lipgloss is destroyed, smeared across her lips and your cock. She pulls back, just enough to swirl her tongue around the head before taking you deep again, making a show of it.

"Get on the bed," she says, pulling off with a wet pop, voice raspy in a way that makes your dick throb. "I'm not done with you."

You climb onto her pastel sheets, pushing aside a few stuffed animals. She's on you immediately, shoving you back against the pillows, her body lithe but surprisingly strong for someone so small. The way your hands practically span her entire waist is a heady reminder of how delicate she is compared to you.

"Stay still," she orders, straddling your thighs, then lowering her mouth back to your cock. Your hands find her shoulders, feeling how narrow they are beneath your palms, how fragile her collarbones seem under your fingers.

She takes you deeper this time, relaxing her throat around you. The wet heat of her mouth is almost too much. You reach for her head, but she grabs your wrists, pinning them to the bed on either side of your hips. The look she gives you from under her lashes is pure power—this tiny girl somehow in complete control despite her size.

"Fuck, you're strong," you murmur, testing her grip and finding yourself genuinely restrained.

She pulls off just long enough to say, "Don't underestimate me just because I'm small," before sinking back down, taking you impossibly deep for her size. The contrast of her petite frame handling all of you makes your head spin.

"Fuck, your mouth," you groan, watching her cheeks hollow as she sucks harder.

She pulls off completely with a wet gasp, a thick strand of saliva connecting her lips to your cock. She takes a deep breath, then deliberately lets a string of spit fall from her mouth onto your shaft, using it to stroke you with one gloved hand while maintaining eye contact. The sight alone nearly makes you cum.

"You like it messy?" she asks, her voice husky, already knowing the answer.

Before you can respond, she swallows you down again, taking you impossibly deep in one fluid motion. Her throat constricts around you as she holds there for several seconds, nose pressed against your pelvis, before pulling back with a desperate inhale. Saliva runs down your length in rivulets now, soaking into the sheets beneath you, dripping down to coat your balls.

She establishes a rhythm that's driving you insane—deep, gurgling strokes with her mouth while her gloved hand follows, twisting slightly on the upstroke. Her other hand massages your balls, now slick with her spit. The wet sounds are obscene, sloppy and loud in the quiet bedroom.

"Wait," you gasp, feeling the pressure building, "I'm getting close."

She doesn't slow down. Instead, she somehow intensifies her efforts, one hand working your shaft in perfect sync with her mouth, the other pressing firmly behind your balls in a way that makes your vision blur. Your muscles tense, toes curling against the sheets as you fight the building pressure. You want this to last, but her technique is unreal.

She pulls off suddenly with a gasping inhale, strands of spit connecting her mouth to your cock in a spider web pattern. Without missing a beat, her gloved hand maintains the rhythm, now twisting on each upstroke, her thumb circling the sensitive spot just under the head.

"Not yet," she says, her voice raw and husky. "I want to play with you longer."

She looks up at you through mascara-smudged lashes, face flushed, hair clinging to her sweat-dampened skin, and you've never seen anything more erotic in your life. Her lips are puffy and red, glistening with a mixture of spit and pre-cum. She licks them deliberately before taking another deep breath and swallowing you down again.

This time she does something with her throat—a controlled swallowing motion while you're deep inside—that has you seeing stars. Your hips buck involuntarily, but she takes it, accommodating your thrust with practiced ease. Her nose presses against your pelvis as she holds you there, throat contracting rhythmically around your head. The pressure and heat are unreal.

She keeps you on edge like this—bringing you close with intense deep-throating, then backing off to focus on your shaft with her hands or gently sucking just the tip—for what feels like an eternity. Your breathing is ragged, sweat beading on your forehead as you struggle to hold back. Your hands fist in her hair, not guiding anymore but just holding on for dear life.

The sheets beneath you are soaked with her saliva, your thighs slick and shiny in the dim light. She seems to revel in the mess, deliberately letting spit run down your length, using it as lubrication for her gloved hands. The wet, sloppy sounds of her mouth and hands working in tandem fill the room, punctuated by her gasping breaths and your strangled moans.

Just when you think you can't take anymore, when the teasing edge has become almost painful, she takes you deep again, her throat working around you with purpose.

"Fuck, now I'm really gonna cum," you warn, your voice strained and desperate.

This time, she doesn't back off. Instead, she looks up at you with determination in her eyes, maintaining that crucial eye contact as she takes you deeper than before. One hand grips the base of your shaft firmly, the other massages your balls with precise pressure. She swallows deliberately around the head of your cock, her tongue pressed flat against the underside, hitting that perfect spot.

You lose it, your release hitting the back of her throat in hot, heavy pulses. There's so much that some escapes the corners of her mouth despite her best efforts to swallow it all. She doesn't stop or slow down, continuing to work you with her mouth and hands through your orgasm, extending the pleasure to almost unbearable levels.

Her throat works visibly as she gulps down your release, making obscene swallowing sounds that only intensify your pleasure. Her eyes water from the effort, mascara beginning to run in faint streaks down her flushed cheeks, but she never breaks eye contact. There's a look of triumph in her gaze, a satisfaction at reducing you to this trembling, groaning mess beneath her.

When your orgasm finally subsides and you're twitching with oversensitivity, she slowly, deliberately pulls away. Thick strings of spit and cum stretch between her lips and your cock, forming an obscene web that breaks and falls across her chin and neck. Her hand continues to stroke you gently, milking the last few drops from you.

She sits back on her heels, breath coming in heavy pants, lips dramatically swollen, chin and chest glistening with a mixture of saliva and the cum that escaped her mouth. Her cat ears are somehow still hanging on, though now sitting at a rakish angle on her disheveled hair. The gloves that once were pristine pink satin are now darkened with wetness in places, sticky and slick.

"Holy fuck," you breathe, genuinely stunned by what just happened. Your cock is still hard, barely softened by the intense orgasm.

She notices, a knowing smirk spreading across her messy face as she wipes her chin with the back of her hand. "Told you I wasn't done with you yet," she says, her voice absolutely wrecked in the sexiest possible way, rough and raspy from the workout her throat just got.

She reaches behind her, unzipping her white halter top and pulling it over her head. Her breasts are small but perfect, nipples pink and hard in the cool air. The cat ears wobble but stay in place.

"You're so fucking hot," you tell her, reaching for her waist.

She stretches, arms extending above her head, back arching in a way that's distinctly feline. Her small breasts lift with the motion, nipples hardening in the cool air. Her eyes hold a challenge as she slowly moves toward you.

"I want your mouth on me," she says, her voice husky with need.

Instead of letting her climb over you, you suddenly sit up, grabbing her by the waist. She gasps in surprise as you flip your positions, pushing her down onto the mattress with firm hands. Her eyes widen, pupils dilating at your show of strength.

"Is that what you want?" you ask, your voice low as you hover over her. Your hands easily pin her wrists above her head, one of yours enough to hold both of hers. "Tell me again."

"Yes," she breathes, arching into you despite being restrained. "Please."

You release her wrists and move down her body, deliberately taking your time. Your hands slide along her sides, feeling how tiny she is beneath you. When you reach her thighs, you push them apart without gentleness, making space for your shoulders. She moans at the manhandling, her head falling back against the pillows.

You hook your fingers into her thong, pulling it to the side rather than removing it. The first thing that hits you is her scent—musky and sweet with a hint of sweat from dancing all night, but undeniably arousing. There's a faint trace of her perfume mixed with the raw smell of her arousal that makes your mouth water.

"Fuck, you smell good," you tell her, your breath hot against her inner thigh.

She's already wet, her folds glistening in the dim light. You study her for a moment—she's pink and swollen, clearly aroused. She's shaved but you can see and feel the slight roughness of hair starting to grow back. The texture is oddly intimate, more real than porn-perfect smoothness, the slight stubble creating friction against your fingers as you trace her outer lips.

You start slowly, just running your tongue along her seam, tasting her properly. She's tangy and sweet, with a hint of salt from the night's exertions. The flavor is addictive, making you groan against her. Her hips buck at the vibration, seeking more contact.

"Oh fuck," she gasps when you finally circle her clit with your tongue. Her hands find your hair, fingers tangling in it but not directing, just holding on.

You explore her with your tongue, discovering which motions make her thighs tremble, which spots make her breath catch. You alternate between broad, flat strokes and focused attention on her clit, learning what she responds to best.

"Please," she whimpers after a few minutes of this teasing. "I need more."

You slide one finger inside her while continuing to work with your tongue. She's incredibly tight, her inner walls gripping your digit eagerly. The contrast between your larger hand and her small body is stark—one finger feels substantial inside her.

"More," she urges, lifting her hips toward your face.

You add a second finger, feeling her stretch around the intrusion. You curl them upward, searching for that spot that will drive her wild. When you find it, her reaction is immediate and dramatic—her back arches off the bed, a strangled cry escaping her lips.

"There," she gasps, her hands now gripping the sheets beside her head. "Right fucking there."

She's watching you now, propped up slightly on her elbows, her gaze heavy-lidded but intense. The sight of you between her legs seems to turn her on almost as much as what you're doing to her. When your eyes meet, she bites her lip, a flush spreading across her chest.

You maintain eye contact as you suck her clit gently while stroking that spot inside her. Her breathing quickens, her stomach muscles visibly tensing with each curl of your fingers. Her wetness increases, running down your palm and wrist.

"Don't stop," she pleads, one hand reaching down to touch your shoulder, nails digging into your skin. "I'm getting close."

You increase the pressure of your tongue, maintaining a steady rhythm as her breathing becomes more erratic. You can feel her inner walls beginning to flutter around your fingers—the first signs of her approaching orgasm.

She reaches down with her free hand, spreading herself wider for you, giving you better access. The gesture is incredibly erotic—her taking an active role in her pleasure while still letting you control the pace.

"Just like that," she encourages, voice tight with building tension. "Don't change anything, please, I'm so close."

Her thighs start to tremble, her hips making small, involuntary movements against your face. You curl your fingers more firmly against that spot, sucking her clit with slightly more pressure, and that's what pushes her over the edge.

You feel her start to tense, her thighs trembling on either side of your head. The inner walls of her pussy clench rhythmically around your fingers as her breathing becomes shallow and rapid. You maintain your rhythm, not changing a thing as her orgasm builds.

"Right there, right there," she chants, her voice tight and desperate. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna—"

She cuts herself off with a sharp gasp as her body goes rigid, suspended on the edge for several breathless seconds. Then she shatters, her back arching dramatically off the bed, thighs clamping around your head with surprising strength. Her release floods your hand and chin, her wetness increasing dramatically as she comes undone.

"Don't stop, don't stop," she begs as waves of pleasure roll through her. Her hands fist in the sheets, knuckles white with tension. Her stomach muscles contract visibly with each pulse, her entire body shaking with the intensity of her orgasm.

You work her through it, continuing to stroke that spot inside while gently sucking her clit, feeling each aftershock ripple through her slender frame. Her pussy grips your fingers in rhythmic spasms, pulling them deeper as if trying to keep you inside.

Only when she weakly pushes at your forehead, oversensitive and spent, do you finally relent. You plant a soft kiss on her inner thigh before gently withdrawing your fingers, watching her twitch at even that small movement. Your hand and chin are soaked with her arousal, glistening in the dim light.

She collapses back, chest heaving, limbs splayed across the pastel sheets. Her skin is flushed pink from her cheeks down to her chest, a thin sheen of sweat making her glow in the dim light. Her thong is still pushed to the side, her pussy visibly swollen and wet from your attention.

"Holy shit," she breathes, one arm thrown across her eyes. "Give me a second."

But even as she's still recovering, you're already hard again—painfully so. The sight of her completely undone by your mouth and hands has your cock throbbing with need.

Before she can fully catch her breath, you flip her over onto her stomach in one smooth motion. She gasps in surprise but immediately pushes her ass up, instinctively assuming the position. She looks back at you over her shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded but gleaming with renewed interest.

"Harder," she says, her voice still breathless. "You can be rough with me."

You grab a handful of her hair, pulling her head back slightly as you lean down to bite the sensitive junction between her neck and shoulder. She moans, the sound vibrating through her slender frame. Her nails dig into the sheets, bunching the fabric in her fists.

"Yes," she hisses, pushing back against you, her ass rubbing against your hard cock. "Like that."

You trail bites and kisses down her spine, feeling each vertebra under your lips. Your hands grip her narrow waist, fingers easily spanning her sides. The pink skirt is still bunched around her waist, exposing her perfect ass and the thong still pushed to the side.

You grab the thin fabric of her thong and rip it off in one motion. She gasps, then laughs, the sound quickly turning into a moan as you push two fingers back inside her from this new angle.

"Fuck," she breathes, her back arching deeper, presenting herself to you even more. "Your fingers feel so good."

You curl your fingers upward, finding that spot again easily. Her reaction is immediate—her whole body shudders, a string of curses falling from her lips. You add a third finger, stretching her, watching her face twist in pleasure as she looks back at you.

"You're so fucking tight," you tell her, feeling her clench around your fingers. The view from behind is intoxicating—her slender back dipping into a perfect arch, pink skirt still bunched around her waist, her face half-turned so you can see her reactions.

"I want to feel you inside me," she says, voice husky with need, pushing back against your hand. "Now."

You position yourself behind her, one hand on her hip, the other guiding your cock to her entrance. From this angle, you can see how tiny she looks beneath you, her waist narrow enough for your hands to nearly encircle it, her ass perfectly round and invitingly raised.

"You're so fucking wet," you murmur, sliding your length through her folds to coat yourself in her arousal.

"Please," she whimpers, pushing back against you. "I need you inside me."

"Ask nicely," you tease, holding the head of your cock at her entrance but not pushing in.

She looks back at you over her shoulder, eyes narrowed despite her vulnerable position. "Please fuck me," she says, but it sounds more like a demand than a plea. "I need to feel all of you inside me."

You push into her slowly, watching your cock disappear into her inch by inch. Her mouth falls open, a low moan escaping as she's stretched around you. The view is intoxicating—her back arched deeply, her skirt bunched around her waist, her long dark hair spilling across the pastel sheets, and your much larger frame positioned behind her smaller one.

When you're fully seated inside her, you both let out a shaky breath. She feels impossibly tight from this angle, her inner walls gripping you like a vise.

"Fuck, you're deep," she gasps, reaching back to grab your thigh, urging you to move.

You start with slow, shallow thrusts, watching her reactions carefully. Her fingers dig into the sheets, her face half-buried in the pillow but turned enough that you can see her expressions. Each time you push in, her features twist with a mixture of pleasure and sweet strain.

"Harder," she breathes, pushing back to meet your thrusts. "I won't break."

You tighten your grip on her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as you pick up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin joins the chorus of her moans and your heavy breathing, filling the dimly lit bedroom. Her cat ears have somehow managed to stay on through everything, wobbling with each thrust.

You lean forward, pressing your chest against her back, one hand sliding around to her throat. You don't squeeze, just apply gentle pressure, feeling her pulse race beneath your palm. Her reaction is immediate—a full-body shudder and a tightening around your cock that nearly makes you lose control.

"Yes," she hisses, reaching back to grab your hip, encouraging you to go harder, deeper. "Fuck me like you mean it."

You pull your hand away from her throat only to deliver a sharp slap to her ass. The sound echoes in the room, followed immediately by her gasping moan. A pink handprint blooms on her pale skin, and you follow it with another slap to the other cheek.

"Again," she demands, her voice rough with desire. "Harder."

You comply, bringing your hand down with more force. She cries out, her inner walls clenching around you in response. The contrast between the delicate curve of her body and the harsh sound of your palm connecting with her skin is intoxicating.

You pull her upright, her back to your chest, your cock still deep inside her. With one hand, you gather her long hair, pulling it aside to expose the slender column of her neck. Your lips find her skin, tasting salt and the lingering sweetness of her perfume as you drag your tongue from the curve of her shoulder up to just behind her ear.

"Oh god," she moans, her head falling back against your shoulder, giving you better access.

You continue exploring her with your mouth—the nape of her neck, the sensitive spot where her shoulder meets her throat, the delicate ridge of her spine. Your free hand slides up her torso to cup one small breast, thumb circling her nipple as you lick a path across her shoulder blade.

She turns her face toward you as much as she can, and you lean in, gathering saliva in your mouth before letting it fall onto her parted lips. Her tongue darts out to catch it, a primal gesture that makes your cock throb inside her.

"Fuck, that's hot," she breathes, her pupils blown wide.

The headboard knocks rhythmically against the wall now as you guide her back down to her hands and knees, but neither of you care about the noise. Her moans get higher, more desperate, her body trembling beneath yours as you drive into her with increasing intensity. You can feel her starting to tighten around you, the first telltale signs of her approaching orgasm.

You reach around her slender body, your hand finding her clit, circling it in time with your thrusts. She cries out, a sharp, broken sound that tells you you've hit exactly the right combination.

"Right there," she gasps, her voice strained. "God, don't stop."

You maintain the rhythm, the pressure, the angle—everything that's working for her. Her inner walls flutter around you, gripping you tighter with each thrust. She's close, so close you can feel it in the way her body tenses beneath yours.

"I'm gonna cum," she warns, her voice breaking on the last word. "Fuck, I'm so close—"

"Look at me," you demand, tugging her hair to turn her face toward you. Her eyes meet yours, glazed with pleasure but focused on you. "I want to see you when you cum."

That does it. She breaks apart beneath you, her body clenching around yours so tightly it almost hurts. A string of curses and broken moans falls from her lips as she comes undone. You can see every emotion cross her face—the initial shock, the overwhelming pleasure, the surrender. Her thighs tremble violently, her entire body quaking with the force of her orgasm.

The visual of her coming apart combined with the rhythmic grip of her body around your cock pushes you right to the edge. You're seconds away from your own release.

She senses it, somehow aware even through her own pleasure. "Wait," she gasps, reaching back to stop your movements. "Not yet."

Before you can react, she's wriggling away from you, turning around to face you. Despite having just experienced an intense orgasm, she moves with surprising agility, pushing you onto your back and straddling your thighs.

"I want you to cover me in your cum," she says, her voice raw and desperate, eyes wild with desire despite her recent release. "All over my face."

She leans down, taking you into her mouth again, tasting herself on your cock. The sight of her—flushed and sweaty from her orgasm, cat ears somehow still clinging to her head, eagerly sucking you after you've been inside her—is almost too much.

That's all it takes. You pull out quickly, one hand stroking yourself as she positions herself, her back against the pillows, cat ears still somehow clinging to her head as she looks up at you eagerly.

Her hands grip your thighs as you stroke yourself once, twice, three times before exploding across her face.

The sight is fucking obscene—ropes of white painting her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, one streak catching on her long lashes. She moans as it hits her, tongue darting out to taste what landed on her lips, eyes never leaving yours. A few drops land on the rhinestone necklace still around her neck, creating an obscene contrast with the delicate jewelry.

It's the most erotic thing you've ever seen in your life.

When you finally roll off her, both of you breathing hard, staring at her ceiling covered in glow-in-the-dark stars, she turns her head toward you with a satisfied smile, your release still glistening on her perfect face.

"So," she says, voice raspy and smug, "convinced about my costume now?"

You laugh, genuinely laugh, turning to face her. "Most convincing costume I've ever seen."

She stretches beside you, body elongating in one fluid motion, arms above her head, back arching slightly off the bed—every movement reminiscent of the animal she's dressed as. The motion causes her breasts to lift, and despite what you just did, you feel a stirring, your cock hardening once again.

She notices, a sly smile spreading across her cum-streaked face. "Careful, cowboy. Look at me like that again and we'll be going for round two before I even clean up."

"Is that supposed to be a deterrent?" you ask, reaching out to trail a finger along her collarbone.

She catches your hand, bringing it to her mouth and placing a kiss on your palm that somehow feels more intimate than everything you've just done.

"First," she says, sitting up and finally removing the cat ears that have somehow survived the entire encounter, "shower. Because as hot as this was—" she gestures to her face, "—I can't have a proper getting-to-know-you conversation with cum in my eyelashes."

You laugh again, surprised by how easy it feels with her despite the circumstances of your meeting.

"Lead the way, slutty cat," you say, and she pulls you up from the bed, toward her bathroom, her naked body as graceful in motion as it was beneath you.

And somehow, you know this night is just the beginning.

[cutehoons02]

Summer of desires

*pairing: pervy library student Heeseung x popular rich Girl

*trope: grumpy x sunshine/he fall first, she fall harder

*synopsis: What would happen when the city bookseller as well as your classmate timid with sweet air but with extreme dirty thoughts about you from the first day he saw you for the first time sold you spicy books? Between summer bonfires, stolen kisses in the library, provocations and summer baths what will happen between the popular girl with no wires on her tongue and a slightly perverted nerd?

*tags: A lot of tension, Heeseung is downbad for the protagonist, obsession, fake innocent girl, needy heeseung, needy girl, tease each other, summer vibes, kisses in the private pool, fluffy, masturbation,nipples plays, fingering, touchy girl/Hee, pacifiers, virgin protagonist, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) pet names (sweetheart,baby) (hee)

14.9k (👙)

(English is not my native lanuage)

The seaside town of Jeongdongjin was famous for its crystal-clear sea and fiery sunsets, but in that small community, there was also a place many didn’t notice, except for its dusty windows and the smell of yellowed paper that mixed with the scent of the sea. The Quiet Corner, the town’s bookstore, was a peaceful spot, but it was also a refuge of sorts for Heeseung. He was the typical nerd on campus, but not in a conventional way. Yes, he loved spending time between the pages of books and in front of the console, but he wasn’t just the solitary guy that no one noticed. Heeseung, with his glasses and always pensive expression, was also the type of guy who knew how to flirt with girls, but never really committed. He was an ambivert, so sometimes he seemed distant, at other times perplexing, and sometimes even charming, especially with girls. And with Y/n, he had a very different interest: he was obsessed with her innocence. Y/n, the perfect girl on campus, seemed to have stepped out of a dream. Long, curly hair that sparkled in the sunlight, eyes as clear as the summer sea, and skin so pale it seemed almost unreal. She was the silent queen among the girls, always elegant, flawless, and dressed like a good girl. Her innocence was almost tangible, an aura that made her irresistible to everyone. But Heeseung didn’t just see the angelic Y/n. He saw her as a target. A target to conquer, yes, but not in the way the other guys would. For him, the allure was in stripping away that aura of purity. He knew Y/n was a virgin, and in some way, he found that incredibly exciting. He wanted to see how she would react, wanted to uncover her darker side, the one no one knew. He wanted to ruin her. Heeseung’s thoughts were often fueled by less-than-innocent fantasies. He imagined her, saw her in his mind, stripped of her virginal calmness, shaken, like a butterfly caught in his net. Yet, despite his desire to break her, he always did it from a distance. He watched her from afar, observing every movement, every smile Y/n gave to the world, while he noticed the imperfections no one else could see. He had never really approached her. They had only spoken twice—once at a bonfire party when she had asked him where the bathroom was, and another time when they had bumped into each other in the corridor on campus. Nothing much. Yet, for him, every single exchange had been like an electric shock. Almost enough to send him into a frenzy. It was a late summer afternoon, and the heat outside seemed endless. The cicadas sang, emitting a constant sound that almost seemed to scream, "even hotter." Heeseung was behind the counter, focused on the computer while checking the shipments. The bookstore, now empty, didn’t see many customers, especially since people had started to prefer online shopping. It was one of the few places still holding live readings on the terrace overlooking the ocean, but those events only attracted a handful of enthusiasts. It was the usual boring afternoon when the sound of the door opening interrupted the monotony. A soft, familiar voice, almost blending with the wind, made him look up. And there she was, standing in front of him.

Y/n. Her light dress, a white sundress, fluttered just above her body, revealing the swimsuit underneath. The sun illuminated her, creating a sort of halo around her. Her tanned skin seemed to shine under the afternoon rays. The strap of her dress was slightly slipping down, exposing part of her swimsuit, and Heeseung couldn’t help but notice. A shiver of desire ran down his spine. "It's ridiculously hot outside," said, smiling. Your voice was cool, like the sound of a sea breeze. "I'm tired of being at the beach, so I thought I'd come grab a book. My roommates are dying to get away from university and read a few books under the sun, and they told me to buy some books that are going viral on TikTok." Heeseung snapped out of his daze and, trying to stay calm, responded, "Of course, no problem. What books did you order?" His tone tried to sound natural, but he couldn’t hide the unease that was growing inside him. His gaze once again fell on her dress, the strap slowly slipping off her shoulder, as if it wanted to reveal even more. His mind was immediately overtaken by mischievous images and desires he couldn’t suppress. You pulled out your phone and looked at the titles of the books spotted on her FYP. "So… let's see… A Touch of Darkness by Scarlett St. Clair, The Deal by Elle Kennedy, and Twisted Love by Ana Huang," you said, smiling innocently, but Heeseung immediately sensed the spark those romantic and “spicy” books evoked. He raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the playful tone, but a small mischievous smile crept across his face. "I didn’t think the perfect, innocent girl on campus would be reading books like that," he said, almost challenging you. There was something in the way you looked at him that made him feel more uneasy, but at the same time, it also made him feel closer to her.

You, of course, blushed immediately. Your cheeks turned bright red as you looked down. "Well," you said with a nervous laugh, "everyone, even people older than me, has stumbled upon spicy romance. It's not that strange, right?" You tried to downplay it, but your face betrayed your insecurity. Heeseung couldn’t hold back a smile as he watched your reactions. The sweetness of Y/n always struck him, but now there was a different vibe. A vibe of complicity that he had never felt before. "A secret, huh?" he said, moving slightly closer to the counter, his smile becoming more intense. "I’m not as innocent as I seem," he added, lowering his eyes onto you with a look that was anything but innocent. His mind began to wander into darker, more sensual territories, imagining what it would feel like to touch your skin under his hands. You looked at him, your crystal-clear eyes now a bit confused, while your lips curved into a shyer, almost uncertain smile. Your sweetness, that same innocence that had always drawn Heeseung to you, made him feel conflicted. He wanted to know that side of you that no one seemed to be able to see. But his mind, growing more crowded with perverted thoughts, couldn’t stop. He could still see the strap of your dress slipping slightly, almost as if inviting him to look more closely. He wanted to pull it down even further, to discover what was underneath. You, unaware of the thoughts Heeseung was having, shifted slightly, trying to appear more at ease. "Yet, it’s not that strange," you repeated, trying not to seem too embarrassed. "After all, I’m part of Gen Z, right? We’ve got our secrets too."

Heeseung looked at you, his smile growing bolder as he observed you with amusement. "Are you sure you want to share them with me?" he asked, his voice now lower as if he were playing with you as if there were an unspoken challenge between you two. You, now almost completely red, felt torn between wanting to run away and wanting to continue that conversation. "I think it’s a secret you should keep to yourself," you replied nervously, trying to distance yourself from the moment that was becoming heavier with tension. Heeseung looked at you with more intense eyes, his smile more knowing than ever. "Maybe one day, when you’re not so… innocent anymore, I’ll reveal it," he said, as a flash of desire crossed his gaze. You, with your innocence mixed with embarrassment, could no longer keep your heart from racing. "Maybe," you replied, trying to joke, but the way Heeseung looked at you made you feel something strange in your chest. It was a tension that grew stronger, like the heat filling the summer air, as both of you felt trapped between desire and embarrassment.

"I didn’t prepare them, but you can easily find them in the BookTok and Romance section, right at the corner of the bookstore," Heeseung said with a smile that hinted at a bit of amusement. His voice was softer, almost as if he was trying to mask the little game he was playing. You smiled excitedly, your eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, like a puppy eager to run to a playground. "I can’t wait to check them out!" you exclaimed, your tone light and cheerful. "My roommates sent me tons of aesthetic TikTok videos. The fan art was amazing!" As you said that, you approached the counter with a confident step, your white dress moving delicately, revealing your tanned skin that Heeseung tried not to stare at for too long. But he couldn’t help noticing it, especially with your straps slightly slipping down, almost as if inviting him to look. Heeseung gestured for you to follow the path to the corner, where the section was hidden between shelves full of books. As you walked together, his mind filled with thoughts he tried to push away but couldn’t ignore.

"So… what are they about exactly?" he asked, trying to sound casual, although his gaze was a little more intense than before.

"Well," you replied, "in Twisted Love, there’s this incredible chemistry between the main characters. If I’m not mistaken, he’s the best friend of the protagonist's brother with a dark past, and there’s a lot of tension, and... well, let's just say calling it ‘spicy’ is an understatement," you said, laughing with a hint of mischief. "But I love these dark romance dynamics! The spiciest part is when she realizes she wants something more. And then... well, I’ll let you find out."

Heeseung stopped and looked at you, a small mischievous smile playing on his lips. "I figured," he said. "And what about The Deal by Elle Kennedy? Do you like sports? Hockey, right?"

"Hockey!" you exclaimed, a bit surprised by the question. "I don’t know much about it, to be honest. But... I’ve heard it’s one of the best in the series." Your voice was light and sincere, but you couldn’t hide a slight hesitation. "And then... the main characters have this amazing chemistry. She’s a total chatterbox, and he’s a bit grumpy at first, but then they start to discover each other. I think I’ll like it!" you added, trying to sound more confident.

Heeseung chuckled softly. "It is, and one of the spiciest too, if I may say," he said, his tone playful but with a hint of provocation. "It might surprise you." His eyes couldn’t seem to look away from you, from your crystal-clear eyes reflecting the sunset light, from your golden skin that seemed to almost invite him to do something more... intimate.

You became a bit more serious as if trying to understand better what Heeseung was trying to imply. "I think the spiciest one, though, is Twisted Love," you replied without hesitation, with a smile that carried a bit of complicity. "I don’t think you’d fully understand it. Let’s just say... it’s spicier than you think."

Heeseung looked at you with a mixture of curiosity and a hint of challenge in his eyes. "And how do you know all these things?" he asked, keeping his smile. "I didn’t picture you as so… experienced," he added lightly, with that little bit of flirtation he couldn’t hide. You laughed, but the laugh was shy, almost embarrassed. "Well, it’s another secret," you said, giving a little wave of your hand, as if trying to keep that little mystery. "Don’t tell anyone, okay?" Heeseung watched you, his hands in his pockets as he followed you along the shelves. "Another secret, huh?" he said, his smile widening a little, his eyes seeming to never want to look away from yours. Every word coming from your mouth felt like a little game between you two as if you were both trying to discover something more, bit by bit. But in the meantime, his hands were slightly sweating. The tension between you two was palpable, like the warm, dense air that filled the bookstore. Finally, Heeseung took the books you had chosen, one by one, and carefully placed them on the counter. "Here you go," he said, his voice lower now, almost a whisper. "All the books you’re looking for." You moved to pay, and while he did, Heeseung couldn’t stop watching you. His heart was pounding harder. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Your skin, the way the sundress moved delicately on your body, your straps continuing to slip down slowly… It was all so tempting. When you grabbed the bag with the books, you turned to Heeseung and smiled at him with an air of complicity. "See you around, Heeseung," you said with a smile that was as innocent as it was dangerous. Heeseung was stunned, his heart skipping a beat inside him. How did she know his name? She had called him by his name. How was that possible? His thoughts started to whirl, and soon a flood of perverse images filled his mind. "See you…" he mumbled, still confused. "Y-yeah, see you…" he said, trying to mask the whirlwind of emotions he was feeling. You walked away, leaving the bookstore, while Heeseung stayed there, watching you leave.

It had been a week since the last time he had seen you, and on the bookstore's website, you had written that you would stop by to buy more books. The sky over the coastal town had turned gray a few hours ago, and the streets had been suddenly flooded by a torrential downpour that forced everyone to seek shelter. Heeseung, however, had stayed in the bookstore, nervously staring at the clock on the wall. 5:30 PM. You had told him you’d come by, and he – in a way he wouldn’t even admit to himself – had even switched his shift to be there. He had fixed his bangs at least ten times in the reflection of the computer, carefully chosen what to wear – no glasses this time, a slightly oversized t-shirt, and dark jeans, trendy enough not to look too nerdy – but there was no sign of you. He had almost convinced himself that you weren’t coming when the sound of the bell on the door made him snap his gaze upward. And there you were, soaked, with your hoodie completely drenched on your head, the light t-shirt sticking to your body from the water, and the only piece of clothing still somewhat intact and not fully wet were your light denim shorts, hugging your legs as if they were tailor-made. The wet fabric of your shirt, however, betrayed the secret hidden underneath: the pink bikini you wore was perfectly visible, and Heeseung suddenly felt very, very hot. But then, instead of complaining like most girls would have, you burst out laughing.

"Didn’t you hear the weather forecast? The rainy season has started," Heeseung remarked, crossing his arms over his chest while desperately trying not to look at you too intensely.

You shook the water off yourself, still laughing. "I was a little busy, actually," you said cheerfully, with a bit of cheekiness. "I was studying… or maybe I was too caught up in the spicy books you recommended."

Heeseung’s breath caught for a second. He looked at you, slightly shocked but mostly amused.

"...So you read the spiciest ones?"

You smiled, tilting your head to the side as you dropped your hoodie on the nearest chair. "Of course."

Heeseung swallowed. There was something dangerous in the way you were looking at him like you were playing with him as if you were enjoying seeing how far you could make him crumble. And he wasn’t the type to be cornered easily.

He took a step closer, lowering his gaze slightly. "So tell me, then… which one was your favorite?" he asked, his voice lower, slower.

Your eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. "Mmh... hard to say," you murmured, biting your lip slightly. "But I think Twisted Love was the most... intense."

Heeseung smiled, the more dangerous side of him beginning to show. "Intense, huh?" You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest in an involuntary gesture that almost drove him insane – because the movement highlighted how the wet shirt clung to your body. He looked down, and you caught him in the act. With two fingers, you gently lifted his chin, making him look you in the eyes.

"My face is higher, Heeseung."

He held his breath, holy hell, you were provoking him,

he swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain some control. "Do you need a dry t-shirt?" "That would be nice of you," you replied with a smirk. Heeseung sighed, shaking his head as he turned toward the back door. "Come with me, I’ve got one in the locker room." You followed him into the small room behind the counter, where the shelves with the bookstore supplies and lockers for the staff were. Heeseung opened his locker, pulling out a white basketball shirt with a number printed on the back. "It’s the only one I have." You took it, looking at it for a moment before lifting your gaze to him. "It’s huge on me." Heeseung leaned his shoulder against the locker, crossing his arms. "Better that way." You raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Why?" He moistened his lips, looking at you with that intense gaze. "Because at least it covers everything." He challenged you to say something, but you just shrugged, turning your back to him to change. "Heeseung," you called softly. He turned his gaze away. "Tell me." "Don’t suppose you have any shorts, too?" He ran a hand over his face. Holy shit, he was screwed!

Heeseung looked at you for a moment, as if he were processing your request. He did indeed have a pair of basketball shorts in his locker, but giving you his clothes meant imagining you in them. Imagining you without yours, and that simple thought was enough to send him into a spiral. "I only have these basketball shorts…" he finally said, scratching the back of his neck while pulling the garment out. You reached out to take them. "They’ll be fine, I’ll just tighten them with the elastic." He hesitated, still uncertain, before handing them to you. And then, he stood there, dumbfounded. You smiled, tilting your head slightly as a mischievous spark flashed in your eyes. "Do you want me to give you a private striptease?" Heeseung’s eyes widened, and he raised his hands in surrender. "No! No, absolutely—" But the Adam's apple that trembled slightly betrayed every word of rejection. Without saying anything, without even giving him time to process what you were about to do, you moved your hands to your jeans and casually slid them down, letting them fall down your legs. Heeseung swallowed audibly and saw the pink bikini you were wearing hug your hips, accentuating your golden tan. The fabric stretched perfectly over your wet skin, tracing every curve in a way that Heeseung found unfair. His eyes were glued to your legs, to the way the water left little glowing trails on your skin. He should have looked away. He should have. But it was as if his body had suddenly disobeyed him.

Then, you reached out and took the shorts from his fingers, but in doing so, your fingers brushed against his. Without thinking, you guided his hand to your bare thigh. Heeseung felt like he was dying. Shit. He was touching you. Your skin was warm, and smooth, and the contrast with his slightly colder fingers made him shudder. You lifted your gaze to him, amused. "No guy has ever touched me so close to an intimate part." His fingers tightened imperceptibly on your skin. If only you knew the things running through his mind right now. His thoughts were dirty. Too dirty: he imagined the skin beneath his fingers burning against his palm, he imagined his hands slowly moving up— No. Stop. He swallowed again, trying to hold on to some semblance of composure. "Why me?" he asked finally, his voice a little hoarser than usual. You smiled. "Because you look at me differently." Heeseung stayed silent. Differently. Oh, if only you knew how much. His gaze had never been innocent. He had watched you from afar for too long, studying the way you moved, the way you smiled at everyone as if you were untouchable. Yet here you were, with his hand on your thigh, letting him do something no one else had ever been allowed to. He stared at you for a few seconds, then let out a small crooked smile. "Maybe it's better if you don’t know why." A jab. You caught it instantly but pretended not to notice. Or maybe you just wanted to keep playing. With agonizing slowness, you took one of his fingers and guided it along the edge of your bikini, right on your stomach. Heeseung stiffened, and you heard him quietly breathe as his finger slid over your skin, following the fabric's line to your hip. It was the final blow. He shuddered slightly, his fingers trembling as if fighting a primal instinct. But then you moved away, laughing, and slipped into his basketball shorts, tightening the elastic at your waist. Heeseung forced himself to take a step back, running a hand over his face as if to recover. The problem? You still hadn’t taken off your shirt, and he wasn’t sure he could survive the next scene. Heeseung felt the heat rise dangerously along his neck, all the way to his ears. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where to look. It had already been hell watching you take off your jeans in front of him with such casualness, feeling the heat of your skin under his fingers, as if you had intentionally decided to drive him mad. And now this? You had taken off your soaked shirt with no shame, and the pink bikini you were wearing seemed painted onto your body. Damn, perfect.

His jaw tightened as his eyes involuntarily slid down to your chest, full and soft, the light fabric of your bikini clinging too well, revealing your hardened nipples from the cold. Holy. Shit. He cleared his throat, desperately trying to maintain control, but the smirk on your lips made it clear that you had noticed. "What's wrong, Heeseung?" you asked with an overly calculated innocence. "Have you never seen a girl in a bikini?" Something changed in his eyes. You were playing. And if there was one thing Heeseung knew, it was how to change the rules of the game. He suddenly became more serious, a shadow of a smile tugging at his lips. "You're aware you're playing with fire, right?" His voice was lower, deeper. You tilted your head, biting your lip. "Really?" He took a step forward. And you didn’t back away. Another step. And your chest brushed against his. Heeseung knew he should step back, he should stop you, stop himself—but he didn’t. Without thinking, he placed a hand on your back, his warm fingers sliding down the curve of your spine until they found the thin strap of your bikini. Your breath hitched in your throat. He was taller than you, and when he leaned in slightly, his eyes found yours, locked, dark, filled with something that made your legs shake. "What if I wanted to undo it?" he whispered, his fingers dangerously playing with the knot at the back of your bikini. A shiver ran down your spine. Heeseung lowered his voice even further. "What would people think if they walked in and found you with your bare chest, hm?" You smiled faintly. "You would never." A flash of amusement passed through his gaze. "Oh no?" You moved even closer, rising just a little on the tips of your toes, your body perfectly aligned with his. Your chest pressed against his, and Heeseung held his breath. Then you smiled again, tilting your head slightly. "You would never because you want to be the only one to see me naked."

A low moan escaped from Heeseung's lips, so quiet that you almost didn’t hear it. Almost. The tension between you became unbearable, and before he could react, before he could do anything, you rose on your toes again and pulled him closer, your hands gripping the collar of his shirt as your lips found his. You kissed him.

With passion, with desire, with an intensity that Heeseung never expected. And him? He didn’t think twice before kissing you back. Your lips against his were an explosion—it was the third kiss you’d ever given in your life. But with Heeseung… it was different. It was bolder, more intense, more desperate. He was the first to surprise you, because despite his grumpy and sarcastic demeanor, he kissed with a sweetness that made your legs tremble, but at the same time, there was something fierce in the way his lips moved against yours, something necessary, as if he had desired you for too long to hold back. And you? You weren’t any different. Your hands had gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, your chest pressed against his, the heat between you becoming unbearable. You felt the taste of his breath mingling with yours, the faint swipe of his tongue against yours, which made you moan softly into his mouth. That small sound was his undoing. Heeseung grunted slightly, his hands tightening around your waist with more determination, and the kiss became more intense. Deeper. More hungry. His lips moved against yours in perfect rhythm, sometimes slow, sometimes more aggressively, as if he wanted to learn every single angle of your mouth as if he wanted to mark you. His tongue caressed yours again, and you shivered slightly, your chest rising and falling in heavy breaths as his hands slid down your back, pulling you even closer. When you pulled away, both of your breaths were uneven, your chest rising rapidly against his. Your lips were swollen, and slightly reddened, and without even thinking about it, you bit your lower lip, savoring the taste of Heeseung in your mouth. He stared at you. With those dark eyes that seemed to devour you. "Stop," he muttered, his voice low and slightly husky. You tilted your head, confused. "What?" you asked with your usual calculated innocence. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "Stop biting your lip like that, it makes me want to kiss you again. And bite you."

A dangerous smile slowly spread across your lips. With absolute nonchalance, you reached out a hand, your fingers slipping through his soft hair, gently pulling him downward until his breath mingled once again with yours. Your voice became a warm whisper against his mouth. "Then why don’t you bite me?" His pupils dilated. You lowered your chin slightly, bringing his face even closer to your body. "Maybe… here?" you suggested innocently, brushing the edge of your bikini at your chest, the fabric stretching against your skin. Heeseung swallowed. The air around you thickened. "You’re playing with fire," he whispered. You tilted your head with a golden retriever girl look, your usual sweet smile on your lips. "What if I want to burn?" Heeseung clenched his jaw. He hated you. He hated you because he knew you were playing, testing his self-control, wanting to see how far he would go. But most of all, he hated that you were winning. His hand moved slowly, caressing your warm skin as it slid along your side, reaching the thin fabric of your bikini covering your breast, and you held your breath. His eyes found yours as his fingers gently grazed the curve of your chest, almost with reverence. "No one’s ever touched you here, have they?" he asked, his voice low and slightly raspy. You shook your head. He smiled faintly, his eyes igniting with a dangerous kind of desire. "I thought so." And then, slowly, he lowered his head, his warm breath brushing your skin. His mouth barely touched the fabric of your bikini where your nipple had hardened beneath the cloth. The first thing you felt was the heat of his lips, then the slight pressure of his teeth, nibbling gently, almost testing your reaction. A shiver ran through you, and then a sound escaped your lips. A muffled moan, a moan that contained his name. "Hee…" It was his undoing. Heeseung closed his eyes, his thoughts now completely clouded by desire. He had imagined you this many times beneath him. He had imagined you with flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and your warm body beneath his. He had imagined you with heavy breath, his name slipping from your lips in that sweet, innocent tone that drove him wild. But now? Now it was real. And damn, you were even more beautiful than he had imagined. Heeseung continued to lick and bite at the small bud still covered by your light bikini, and every time his mouth pushed and licked at the fabric, you arched your back, pulling his hair. You didn’t think that such a simple gesture could make you go wild and crave more, but Heeseung pulled away from your skin with one last bite on the taut bud of your breast, still covered by the bikini, and you shivered, the warmth of his breath making your skin tingle. Instinctively, your fingers tightened in his soft hair, pulling him slightly, and he fully pulled away, his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed slowly.

Then he sighed as if trying to regain control over himself.

"Raise your arms," he ordered in a tone that brooked no argument.

You looked at him with eyes still a little dreamy, your lips swollen from the kiss earlier.

"Why?"

He tilted his head, his gaze dropping for a moment to your bikini, still slightly damp. "Because if you stay like this in front of me, I might do something I shouldn’t."

Your skin heated. Despite his authoritative tone, his voice was slightly hoarse, and for a moment, you felt the urgency of his desire.

You bit your lip—which, of course, didn’t go unnoticed—and then slowly raised your arms above your head.

Heeseung slid his large shirt over you with a slow and careful gesture, as if trying not to touch you for too long. But when the fabric settled over your body, a faint smile brushed his lips.

You were beautiful.

His shirt was too big for you, the soft fabric sliding over your body, the sleeves reaching past your hands. The scent of Heeseung enveloped you instantly, a mix of light cologne and something more masculine, more his. You felt your cheeks warm slightly, suddenly shy, and he noticed, of course. Without missing a beat, he smiled sideways, one eyebrow slightly raised.

"So... today I discovered another secret," he said with a playful air.

You tilted your head, curious. "And what would that be?"

He chuckled softly, his voice low and velvety. "...that you’re not so innocent after all."

Your heart skipped a beat.

You looked at him, trying to figure out if he was joking, but in his eyes, there was only amusement—and something darker, more dangerous.

In a spontaneous gesture, you reached out and offered him your pinky.

He raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Pinky swear," you said with a sweet smile.

He stared at you for a moment as if he couldn’t believe that, after everything that had happened, you were still you, the girl who always smiled and seemed to see the bright side of everything.

Then he smiled, shaking his head slightly before intertwining his pinky with yours.

"I won’t tell anyone," he promised.

✦

After a few minutes, you left the private room, and he led you to the romance section of the bookstore.

"I want to recommend something better," he said, running his fingers along the spines of the books.

"Better than what I've read so far?" you asked with a small smile.

He shot you a challenging look. "Let's see... this one is without any spice," he said, handing you a book with a pastel-colored cover and a sweet title.

You took it, slightly surprised. "Wow, so you think I need purer reading?"

He laughed, but didn't respond.

Instead, he grabbed another book and handed it to you, this time with a dark cover and an eye-catching font.

You looked at it more closely.

"Oh my God," you whispered, recognizing the title. "This is super spicy."

He smiled to the side. "But it’s also one of the best stories. Trust me."

Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you hugged both books to your chest.

Then you turned to him with your usual bright smile.

"Well, see you, Heeseung."

✦ Later, after a warm shower, you slipped under the covers with your hair still slightly damp. The book he recommended was already in your hands, but before opening it, you grabbed your phone. You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip, and then, without thinking too much, you typed his name on Instagram. Follow. The notification popped up on his profile right away. And you couldn't help but think about how stupid you'd been for never noticing him seriously before today.

The days had passed with the same routine: mornings dedicated to studying, afternoons at the beach with friends or relaxing in the pool at your villa, with the breathtaking view of the ocean. Yet, despite everything seeming perfect, there was one constant thought in your mind. Heeseung. You were too embarrassed to go back to the bookstore after what had happened, but at the same time... you wanted to get to know him more. You’d spent more time than necessary scrolling through his Instagram profile, browsing through pictures of him with his friends, images of him playing basketball, posts about his favorite video games, his travels, and his style—always a little effortless but terribly attractive. The more you watched, the more you felt a slight shiver of anxiety because, to be honest, you had never had a real crush on anyone before now. And that scared you, but if there was one thing you were good at, it was coming up with excuses. So, nonchalantly, you wrote to him on Instagram. - “Heyy, I forgot to order three books that were recommended to me! Can you bring them to me? Pls 🥺”

And he, after a few hours, responded: - “You’ll have to pay me double for the home delivery. 😉”

You smiled like an idiot in front of the screen. And now, here you were, lying on a poolside lounger, wearing sunglasses and a new swimsuit, when the voice of your maid made you lift your head. 'There’s a cute guy at the door with a package for you.' You immediately brightened up; your plan was working. You quickly tied the sheer sarong around your waist, leaving your purple bikini with daisies peeking out.

Above, you didn’t bother to cover yourself—just the bikini, sunglasses, and the smile of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. You walked calmly to the entrance, and when you saw him, you couldn’t hold back a small amused smile. Heeseung looked like a confused puppy. His eyes were wide as he observed the entrance of the villa, hands in his pockets, the look of someone who felt slightly out of place. When he noticed you, his cheeks turned a light shade of red. You were winning, Heeseung didn’t know what to say. He’d already seen you in a swimsuit, but now the situation was completely different. Here, in your villa, under the blazing sun, with your skin still damp from the pool and your mischievous smile, you seemed like you’d just stepped out of a forbidden dream, and his thoughts immediately turned dirty. Damn, you were perfect. The daisies on your bikini seemed deliberately placed to distract him, the sheer sarong did nothing but make him even more frustrated, and your damp hair fell perfectly on your shoulders, driving him crazy. “Do you like my villa, Hee?” you teased, tilting your head with an innocent air. He cleared his throat and nodded quickly. “Yeah... yeah, it’s very nice.” He handed you the envelope with your books, but you didn’t take it immediately. “In exchange, I’ll offer you a lemonade.” Heeseung raised an eyebrow, hesitant. “I don’t want to disturb you, I need to go back to the bookstore.” You ignored his excuse and, without giving him time to protest, grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him toward the pool. It was hot, his skin burning under your fingers, and when you reached the pool’s edge, you handed him a glass of iced lemonade and gave him a fake pout. “I’d be offended if you didn’t drink it and tell me what you think.” Heeseung let out a small smile. “Oh yeah? Are you that sensitive to criticism?” “Only the ones that matter to me,” you replied, winking at him. He shook his head, amused, and brought the glass to his lips. Bad, very bad, because you casually watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed, sweat running down his collarbone, and the way the sun highlighted every line of his muscular arms. When he finished, he looked at you with a mischievous grin. “I didn’t know you were also talented at making lemonade.” You burst out laughing. “Hee, do you realize what you just said?” He thought about it for a moment, then covered his face with his hand. “Shit, I didn’t mean to—” “Too late,” you teased, stretching out on the lounger, relaxed. He, however, seemed slightly uncomfortable—awkward, out of place. “You can sit here,” you said, pointing to the lounger next to yours. “I told you I have to—” “Heeseung, it’s August 15th,” you interrupted, taking off your sunglasses and looking him straight in the eyes. “No one is going to the bookstore today. And with this heat, are you sure you want to go back there?” For a moment, you thought he’d come up with another excuse, but instead— without thinking twice, he took off his shirt, and damn, Heeseung knew exactly what game you were playing. The problem? He was also really good at playing, but at the same time, he looked at you a little shyly.

You burst out laughing. “What’s wrong, Heeseung? Are you shy to take a swim with me?” He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, but the redness on his cheeks betrayed him. “Your maid is here.” You raised an eyebrow, holding back a mischievous smile. “So?” Heeseung stiffened slightly, avoiding your gaze. That’s when you understood. “Oh my God,” you chuckled, giving his bicep a light tap. “And you’d be the innocent one, huh?” He scratched the back of his neck, biting the inside of his cheek. “I didn’t say I was innocent.” You looked at him for a moment, your smile becoming even more amused. “No, indeed. You’re not innocent at all.” Without saying another word, you untied your sarong and slowly slipped it off, knowing full well that Heeseung’s eyes were glued to you. He swallowed. Damn, you were incredible. You sat on the edge of the pool, letting your legs slide into the cool water, letting the sun kiss your skin. Heeseung didn’t move, he looked petrified. “So?” you pressed, swinging your feet in the water. You didn’t give him time to say anything else. You slid into the pool, diving in with an innate elegance. It was your element, and when you started swimming underwater, you decided to push it further, moving agilely between the bubbles, holding your breath for longer than usual, hiding among the reflections in the pool. When did you surface? You didn’t. And that’s when Heeseung started to worry. His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed, and without thinking twice, he dove in. Underwater, you saw him coming towards you—fast, strong. His movements were precise, fluid, and for a second, you got distracted watching him, but then you decided to have some fun. With a sudden flick, you slipped behind his back, and before he could react, you grabbed him and pulled him backward. He opened his eyes underwater, surprised. When he resurfaced, you were there, your face lit up by a radiant smile. “Are you crazy?” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Don’t exaggerate, Hee. I was just playing,” you replied, chuckling. He shook his head, running a hand over his wet face. “How the hell do you hold your breath for so long?” You shrugged. “Like you love basketball, I love everything to do with water.” He looked at you intently, and for the first time, he seemed genuinely fascinated. Drops slid down his face, his wet fringe falling on his forehead, his lips slightly chapped from the sun, and damn—those shoulders, those muscles, everything about him seemed sculpted to perfection. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from staring too much, but it was impossible. Without thinking, you reached out and ruffled his hair, laughing. “You’re gorgeous, Heeseung.” He froze. He cleared his throat, trying to cover up the little cough that slipped out. “What?” You smiled, amused by his reaction. “You heard me perfectly.” He lowered his gaze, biting the inside of his cheek. “No girl has ever told me something like that.” You were surprised. “Really?” He nodded, shyly. “Well,” you shrugged. “I was just telling the truth.” Before he could reply, you dove again, swimming to the other side of the pool with the grace of a mermaid. When you turned around, he was still there. Motionless, staring at you. You leaned against the edge of the pool and shouted, “Are you going to stay there stuck for the rest of your life, or are you going to come closer?” It was like you had woken him up from a dream, his eyes darkened, his expression hardened, and then—he moved. He swam towards you with determination, with an intensity that made you hold your breath. When he arrived in front of you, you found yourself pressed against the pool’s edge, and him? He was so close that you could feel the warmth of his body contrasting with the cool water.

The light touch of your fingers along the contours of his face made him tense for a moment. With the tip of your index finger, you traced the line of his jaw, then moved up to his lips, barely brushing them.

"You know I like them?" you whispered, your eyes locked onto his.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain his usual aloof attitude, but the redness on his ears betrayed him. "What?"

"Your lips," you replied with a mischievous smile.

He cleared his throat, lowering his gaze for a moment. "Ah."

You bit the inside of your cheek, amused. "And do you like mine?"

Heeseung remained silent for a second, then shook his head with a smirk. "Too confident."

"Answer," you pressed, tilting your head slightly.

He stared at you for a few seconds, but instead of answering immediately, he lifted a hand and began to touch you gently.

"Your hair," he murmured, twirling a curly strand between his fingers. "I like it."

He playfully pinched the curl, making you laugh.

"Your eyes," he continued, lowering his lashes as his fingers traced the curve of yours. "Your lashes are long, almost annoyingly perfect."

His fingertip slid down the bridge of your nose. "Your little nose too," he added, tracing its shape with a light, barely perceptible touch.

And finally, he reached your lips. His thumb slowly glided along your lower lip, stopping right at the center.

"Your lips," he said, his voice slightly huskier. "I’d want to kiss them all the time."

A shiver ran down your spine, but you couldn't let him win that easily. You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be unfazed. "And?"

Heeseung smirked.

"Too much attention for just one girl, don't you think?"

You shrugged with a playful smile. "Maybe I deserve it."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, tilting his head. "Maybe."

And then—he ran a finger along the side of your neck, his touch barely there on your wet skin.

He brought his lips close to your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. "Your neck," he murmured. "Because I want to kiss it and mark you."

A shiver shot down your spine, and fuck, Heeseung noticed—but he didn’t stop. His fingers slid slowly along your collarbone, then lower, brushing over the soft curve of your breast.

He barely touched it before pressing slightly, increasing the tension.

"This," he said in a low, deep voice, his touch almost hypnotic. "I’ve already bitten and kissed it."

He lifted his gaze to you, and in his eyes, there was something dark, something possessive.

"But I want to hear you moan my name while I do it again."

Your breath hitched in your throat. Damn.

His fingers trailed lower, moving down your stomach, while his warm breath ghosted over your neck. Then, he reached the edge of your swimsuit—but stopped there. His finger played with the fabric, teasing, waiting. And you realized—he wanted to see how far you were willing to push him.

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smirk. "What's wrong, Hee? Did you freeze up?"

Heeseung lifted his gaze to meet yours, his dark eyes burning into you.

"Careful, Y/N," he murmured, his voice deep and rough. "You love playing with fire too much."

Your arms wrapped around his neck as your legs instinctively locked around his waist. His breath hitched slightly, his eyes widening—not in shock, but in intrigue. His chest rose and fell faster, as if your touch alone was testing his self-control.

Then, without giving him time to react, you tilted your head and started kissing his neck, feeling his muscles tense under your lips.

"Y/N..." he whispered, his voice a mix of warning and want—but you didn’t stop.

If anything, you leaned in closer, brushing a soft kiss near his earlobe—and that’s when you heard it.

A low, strangled groan escaped his lips as his arms instinctively tightened around your waist, fingers digging into your damp skin.

A victorious smirk played on your lips before you went back to his neck, kissing and lightly biting that one spot you knew was his weakness.

"Hee," you teased, your voice nothing but a whisper. "I like your lips too."

You felt his jaw clench, as if he was struggling to hold himself back, but his hands gripped your hips even tighter.

Then, with innocent mischief, you leaned into his ear and whispered, "Lie down."

He raised an eyebrow, studying you—but you simply took his hand and led him toward the lounge chairs near the pool entrance.

He thought you were the one who wanted to lie down—only for you to push him back gently, making him settle onto the warm chair.

Heeseung looked up at you, his chest still rising and falling unevenly.

"And what exactly do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You sat on the edge of the chair, the heat of the stone searing lightly against your skin.

"Studying," you replied with a playful smile—before lowering your head and beginning to kiss him.

First on his chest, leaving soft kisses and teasing bites as you traced his skin. Then, you moved lower, trailing kisses along his toned abs, and—damn.

For a bookworm who spent most of his time in the library, his body was surprisingly well-defined.

You looked up at him, biting your lip. "How the hell does a nerd—okay, fine, a basketball-playing nerd—have a body like this?"

He let out a low chuckle, trying to keep his composure. "Did you expect me to be some scrawny guy with glasses and a plaid shirt?"

"A little bit, yeah," you admitted, laughing.

"Library or not, I work out. I don’t spend all my time reading romance novels like you do."

You raised an eyebrow at his little jab, amused.

"Doesn’t seem like you mind," you shot back before kissing him again.

Your lips trailed further down his skin, reaching his navel—and right at that moment, Heeseung tensed up again

"Y/N, stop," he said, his voice lower now, wrapped in a veil of tension.

You stopped, lifting your gaze to meet his with a teasing smile. "Why?"

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he stared at you intensely.

"Because if you keep going, I won’t be able to stop."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, but instead of intimidating you, it only urged you to tease him more. Slowly, you lowered your hand, letting your fingers trail along the waistband of his swim trunks.

Heeseung held his breath. You looked up at him with a falsely innocent gaze.

"Like this?"

In an instant, he gently pushed you backward onto the lounge chair, making you lose balance for a second. His body hovered over yours, his hands framing your face, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

And this time, he was the one to kiss you first.

His lips pressed against yours with a softness that contrasted the firm way he had pushed you down. It was a slow kiss, but it carried something deeper—something possessive.

Heeseung wasn’t just kissing you—he was exploring, savoring, claiming every inch of your lips.

A faint moan escaped your throat as the sweet taste of lemonade mixed with his, making everything more intense, more electric. Your fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him even closer.

Heeseung felt your body press against his, your breath melding with his, and in that moment, he realized—this was better.

Better than all the filthy dreams he had about you. Better than any fantasy that had kept him awake at night, picturing you beneath him, moaning his name.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes roamed over your flushed face, your swollen lips parted slightly as you caught your breath.

"You’re beautiful," he whispered, his thumb tracing the outline of your mouth.

You lowered your gaze, a shy smile playing on your lips. "Will you say that again?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I bet you hear it every day."

You shook your head, ruffling his hair with your fingers. "It’s the first time someone has said it without jealousy or ulterior motives."

Heeseung frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

You bit your lip, trying to gather your thoughts. "Girls usually resent me for it, and guys… well, the compliments I get are always shallow. No one’s ever looked at me the way you do."

For a moment, Heeseung remained silent. Then, with a small smile, he lowered his gaze and absentmindedly traced soft patterns along your side.

"So, what you’re saying is… I’m special?" he asked, a mischievous lilt in his voice.

You scoffed, feeling warmth creep up your neck. "Don’t turn this into an ego boost."

He chuckled, but his smile turned softer. "Too late, sweetheart."

You stiffened slightly.

"Sweetheart?" you repeated, surprised.

Heeseung noticed your reaction and tilted his head in amusement. "I can’t call you that?"

You weren’t entirely sure why, but hearing that nickname from him sent a shiver down your spine. You gave him a small nod, avoiding his gaze out of embarrassment.

"Can I ask you something?" you asked, hoping your voice wouldn’t betray too much emotion.

Heeseung stared at you for a moment before nodding. "Tell me." His dark eyes studied you, and the mix of embarrassment and boldness in your expression made him realize you were about to ask something intimate.

His fingers on your waist stilled, his thumb tracing slow circles on your still-damp skin.

You lowered your gaze, biting your lip. Your hands fidgeted nervously, but there was determination in your posture. "I… I’ve never been touched there. Only by myself."

Heeseung’s pupils dilated slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

It was strange—he was usually the one who always knew what to say, the one with a teasing remark ready to throw at you. But now? Now he was completely thrown off.

"You…" he started, but then stopped, wetting his lips.

You lifted your gaze and, barely above a whisper, confessed, "I was wondering if… if you wanted to."

Silence. The only sounds were the distant crashing of waves and the frantic beating of your heart against your ribs.

Heeseung clenched his jaw, his gaze locked onto yours. For a moment, he almost looked conflicted. Then, moving slowly, he lowered his face closer to yours, his nose brushing against yours.

"Sweetheart," he whispered against your lips, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, "you do realize that if you say something like that to me… I won’t be able to hold back, right?"

Heeseung watched you from above with a mischievous grin, his dark eyes fixed on your still damp body. The costume adhered to your skin, making you feel even more exposed under his watchful gaze. He ran his tongue over his lips and leaned toward you, his fingers moving light on your thighs, barely touching you, enough to make you shudder. "Lie a little lower, pretty.” His voice was low, hoarse, an order disguised as a request. His hand gently pressed on your belly to guide you backwards. “I want to touch you better.” Nod without much thought, cheeks burning with anticipation.

He smiled, pleased. "Good girl," he whispered, sliding his finger along the edge of your bikini. "But remember that you can stop me whenever you want.” You nodded again, but you already knew that you would never do it. Her lips settled on the skin of your thighs, first with slow and soft kisses, then with small bites that made you wince.

His warm breath mingled with the cool pool air as his fingers drew invisible lines on your thighs. He caught you off guard when he looked down and whistled softly. "Cute... this is not pool water.” You opened your eyes wide, a shiver down your spine. "C-What?” Heeseung chuckled, a deep, cheeky sound, and slowly lowered the edge of your purple costume.

“Look. Are you so wet just because I touched and kissed you a little? Are you always so responsive?” You covered your face with your hands, embarrassed. “It never happened to me...”

He shook his head and with a quick movement gently took your wrists, moving your hands away from your face. His gaze became darker, more intense. “Don't hide.” His voice was more authoritarian now, deep and slow. “I want you to remember that the first one to make you feel that way was me.”

Your throat tightened, your breath trembled. His eyes did not leave your face, and you felt every inch of your skin catch fire under his gaze. He was grumpy, authoritarian and arrogant. And yet, you knew you never wanted to run away from him. Heeseung slid his fingers lower, touching your clit with slow, provocative movements. Your body reacted immediately, your hips involuntarily arched towards him, looking for more clutch.

"How cute," Heeseung muttered, looking at you with greedy eyes. "Before you were so cheeky, now what? Where did the girl he was taunting in the bookstore and the pool go?” You glanced at him, biting your lower lip. “I'm still here”

you replied, with a twinge of voice. He sneered. "Oh yes? Then show me.” And without giving you time to answer, he slid a finger into you. A groan escaped from your lips as your body adapted to the new feeling, unlike anything you had ever experienced. Your fingers had never been able to make you feel like this, and you knew it too.

“So tight, pretty, " he muttered, his voice a mixture of excitement and pure adoration. “And so wet just for me. Are you enjoying it?” He nodded frantically, unable to form words.

He chuckled. “Speak. I want to hear from you.” he whispered against your skin, adding another finger and increasing the pace. You felt like you were going to go crazy, and when his mouth drooped to graze your clit with your tongue, you screamed his name without even realizing it.

He moaned at you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. "Damn, pretty you're already losing your slimy cum and you haven't even come between my fingers and between my lips,”

the muttered before returning to work your mouth and pump more of his long fingers inside your poor shiny cunt that he divinely took. His touch, his tongue, everything was too much, too intense, he caught you off guard when he pinched your breasts still covered by the bikini, and the pleasure completely overwhelmed you. Your hands found his hair and you pulled it hard as your body trembled under his touch.

You came moaning his name, no longer ashamed. Heeseung slowly peeled off, licking his lips with a satisfied look. He looked at you as you tried to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling frantically. "Beautiful," he muttered, running a finger down your leg. “And this time I want you to remember it well.”

The end-of-summer party had been organized by the student council on the open part of the beach. From your house’s terrace, you could already see the soft glow of the bonfires, the shadows of people laughing and dancing, the sound of the waves blending with the music playing in the background. The sky, however, wasn’t completely clear—shades of pink and white intertwined with deeper tones of violet, creating an almost magical atmosphere.

You quickly checked your phone: no rain forecast. Perfect.

You slipped into your sparkly butterfly top, paired with a bralette that was both sexy and sweet—just like you. A flowy white skirt brushed against your legs, and delicate sandals adorned your feet. Your curly hair cascaded over your shoulders, with two small braids framing your face. You looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled—you felt beautiful. But maybe, just maybe, you wanted to look beautiful for someone in particular.

For Heeseung.

You arrived at the party with a confident stride, immediately welcomed by the warmth of the crowd. Friends greeted you, laughter filled the air, and the salty scent of the sea mixed with the smoky aroma of burning wood. But as you talked, your eyes wandered, unconsciously searching for someone.

Lisa, of course, noticed right away. 'Looking for someone in particular?' she asked with a teasing smile.

You shook your head a little too quickly. “N-No! Just… looking around.”

Emma crossed her arms. -Mmmh, sure. Then why do your eyes keep landing in the same spot?-

You swallowed, trying to play it cool, but then—your heart skipped a beat.

There, near the shoreline, illuminated by the warm glow of the bonfires, stood Heeseung.

He was wearing a white shirt that highlighted the slight golden hue of his skin, paired with dark jeans that fit his tall, lean frame perfectly. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d run his fingers through it more than once. He was talking to Jay and Sunghoon, laughing from time to time, but… he wasn’t alone.

Next to him, a girl was clearly trying to monopolize his attention. She laughed dramatically at everything he said, touched his arm with too much familiarity, and tilted her head to the side every time she spoke.

And Heeseung?

He didn’t seem particularly interested—but he wasn’t pulling away either.

A faint sting prickled in your chest. It wasn’t jealousy… right?

You had never been jealous in your life—perhaps because you had never truly liked someone before. But now, with your eyes fixed on the scene in front of you, a faint burn crept from your stomach to your chest.

As if drawn by an invisible force, you turned to your friends. “I’m just going to say hi to someone.”

Lisa and Emma exchanged a knowing glance before nodding with amused smiles. You could hear their whispered comments behind you, but you paid them no mind. You had other things to focus on.

Walking confidently across the soft sand, you approached Heeseung’s bonfire and his group of friends. But instead of heading straight to him, you stopped nearby, pretending to be interested in something else entirely.

From there, you could hear the conversation clearly.

And just as you’d suspected, that girl was blatantly flirting with him.

“Anyway,” she licked her lips, tilting her head to the side, “I just can’t believe you’re still single, Heeseung.”

He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair, already visibly uncomfortable. “Uh… yeah, well… it’s not that—”

She laughed, cutting him off. “No, seriously, it’s crazy! I mean, look at you.” She placed a hand on his shoulder with far too much familiarity. “Tall, handsome, those dark eyes… And I heard you play basketball, so I bet there’s a nice body under that shirt, huh?”

Jay and Sunghoon exchanged amused glances as Heeseung blushed slightly, lowering his head.

“Uh… I just play for fun, nothing serious,” he murmured, trying to downplay it.

She giggled again, stepping a little closer. “Oh, sure, sure. But I bet you’re super competitive, aren’t you? Guys like you always are. Tell me, what if we played… one-on-one? If I win, you buy me a drink. If you win… well, we’ll figure something out.”

Her voice had dropped lower, turning more suggestive.

You rolled your eyes.

How much longer did you have to endure this?

Letting out a small huff, tired of the conversation, you decided to step in.

With a mischievous smile, you approached Heeseung—just like you had done at the pool.

Wrapping your arms around his back, you completely caught him off guard.

His whole body tensed for a second before he spun around, eyes wide, his face turning an instant shade of red.

“Oh,” he stammered, visibly taken aback.

And the way he was looking at you… was exactly what you wanted.

His gaze traveled over you slowly, almost as if he didn’t know where to stop. The sparkly top highlighting your shoulders, the light skirt fluttering around your legs… your skin glowing under the firelight. He swallowed dryly, running a nervous hand through his hair yet again.

“Hey, Hee,” you greeted him with a sweet smile, laced with that teasing tone you knew always made him flustered.

“H-Hey…” he replied, dropping his gaze for a brief moment before bringing it back to you.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” you tilted your head to the side, feigning innocence.

The girl next to him looked at you with an expression teetering between surprise and annoyance.

“No, no,” Heeseung quickly interjected—too quickly. “We were just… uh…”

“Yes?” you smiled again, watching the way he bit the inside of his cheek, clearly flustered.

Jay chuckled quietly beside him, while Sunghoon covered his mouth to hide his amusement.

Heeseung cleared his throat, trying to collect himself, but the blush on his cheeks wasn’t going anywhere.

You, on the other hand, simply looked at him with soft amusement. Because you knew that, shy as he was, he would never back down from the game.

And indeed, after taking a deep breath, his eyes grew a little more certain.

“You have perfect timing,” he murmured with a hint of a smile. “I was just about to ask someone to save me.”

You burst into laughter while the girl next to him crossed her arms, visibly annoyed.

“Oh, so I’m your savior now?” you shot him a playful look.

He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I could get used to it.”

When you asked if he wanted to take a walk by the shore, he didn’t hesitate for even a second.

“Of course.” Then, without giving you a chance to say anything else, he grabbed your wrist and started walking, gently pulling you along with him.

The warmth of his skin against yours made you shiver slightly, but you tried not to let it show.

The sound of the party gradually faded as you walked away, leaving only the gentle crash of the waves against the shore and the soft creaking of the wooden pier beneath your feet.

“I never thought I’d see you dressed like this,” Heeseung murmured, breaking the silence.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “And what exactly does that mean?”

He turned to look at you, with that usual mix of embarrassment and boldness in his gaze. Then, he ran a hand through his hair—a clear sign he was searching for the right words.

“It means that…” his eyes lowered slightly, scanning you carefully. “That you look beautiful.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hide your smile.

“Oh? That’s already the third or fourth time you’ve said that.”

He let out a quiet laugh, lowering his head. “So what? You want me to stop?”

You shook your head, crossing your arms. “No, but at this point, you could at least switch up the compliments.”

He leaned in ever so slightly, tilting his head to the side. “Alright. Then can I tell you that you’re driving me crazy dressed like this?”

His voice was lower now, deeper, and the way he was looking at you sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt his hand graze your waist, warm against your bare skin.

You swallowed. “Better, definitely more original.”

He barely smiled. “See? I know how to tease too.”

You bit your lip, looking at him with playful amusement. “So, do you prefer me… or the girl you were flirting with?”

Heeseung scoffed, his expression almost irritated. “Flirting? Are you serious?”

His grip on your waist tightened slightly, making you gasp.

“She was the one flirting,” he continued, lowering his voice just a little. “Not me.”

He held your gaze for a few seconds before slowly leaning down toward your ear. His breath brushed against your skin.

“I’d choose you over any other girl.”

Your stomach tightened. Then, with an even softer whisper, he added:

“I’ve had so many dirty thoughts about you that I don’t even know what’s real anymore.”

Your breath caught for a second. You tried to compose yourself, but your cheeks were burning. So, to distract yourself, you teased him about something you knew would work.

“You’re too tall,” you muttered, looking up at him.

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “And you’re too small.”

You huffed, giving him a light push on the chest.

He chuckled. “If you want, I can bend down.”

And as he said it, he slowly lowered himself until your faces were just inches apart.

“Better like this?” he whispered.

Heeseung noticed that you were trembling slightly.

Without a word, he slipped off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders with a slow, almost absentminded motion.

You looked up at him, gripping the fabric between your fingers. “Well, aren’t you a gentleman.”

He shrugged, feigning indifference. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

You giggled, pulling the jacket tighter around you. “And yet, you don’t really seem like the type to worry so much.”

He was about to answer when a loud clap of thunder shattered the silence, making both of you jump.

Then, as if the sky had been waiting for the perfect moment, small raindrops began to fall, cold against your skin, still warm from the party.

You burst into laughter.

“Well, I guess it’s fate,” you exclaimed, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along with you.

Heeseung let himself be dragged without resistance, laughing softly as you ran along the beach, the rain growing heavier by the second.

“Every time we see each other, we always end up in the water!” you shouted, squeezing his hand and picking up the pace.

He shook his head, amused. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

You both laughed again, not stopping until you reached the small gazebo on your property.

Without thinking twice, he grabbed your waist and pulled you into a sudden embrace.

You felt his chest rise and fall against yours. His breathing was still uneven from the run.

Instead of pulling away, you lifted a hand and tousled his wet hair. “You’re soaked.”

He scoffed quietly. “So are you.”

Your gaze drifted down to his wet shirt, now completely see-through and clinging to his body.

You bit your lip without even realizing it.

“Okay… I have to admit,” you said, tracing a finger from his biceps down to his abs. “This shirt looks ridiculously good on you.”

Your fingers lightly brushed the skin beneath the fabric, cold and featherlight.

Heeseung shivered just slightly.

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

You looked up at him with that innocent expression he knew was anything but innocent. “Nothing.”

He knew you were playing.

But he didn’t expect what happened next.

You rose onto your tiptoes and, without hesitation, kissed him.

The kiss was sweet at first, slow and uncertain.

Your lips moved against his with an almost maddening gentleness, as if you wanted to savor him slowly, without rushing.

He gave in immediately, closing his eyes and resting his hands on your waist, gripping you lightly.

But then he felt your tongue barely graze his, a soft caress that made him let out a quiet moan against your lips—and everything changed.

The kiss deepened, becoming hungrier. His hands tightened on you, pulling you against him as his chest rose and fell unevenly.

Your body pressed perfectly against his, the soaked fabric leaving no space between you.

When you finally pulled away, he was panting slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

But then, with a smile that was both mischievous and impossibly sweet, you whispered:

“I want you.”

Heeseung froze, his eyes widening slightly, his fingers—once gently caressing your waist—now going still.

He stared at you, trying to understand if he had heard you correctly.

Okay. Okay, one thing was making up fantasies about you. One thing was touching himself in the shower while thinking about you. But now?

Now it was you—the girl everyone wanted, the sweetest girl he’d ever met—the one who teased him but also smiled at him with such innocent warmth—you were the one saying you wanted him.

And suddenly, he couldn’t think straight anymore.

Heeseung looked into your eyes, his breathing still uneven from the kiss.

“Are you messing with me?” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse, that low tone making you shiver.

You shook your head, biting your lip. “No.”

You took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and pulled him inside.

You could feel him behind you, his steps slow but heavy as you climbed the stairs. When you crossed the threshold of your bedroom, you felt his gaze land on every little detail of your world.

He looked around, curious. Your books stacked on the nightstand, the small trinkets scattered across your desk, the photos taped to the wall, illuminated by the soft, warm glow of fairy lights.

Suddenly, you felt shy.

You didn’t know why, but the fact that he was here, in your most intimate space, made you feel vulnerable.

Slowly, you turned toward him, lowering your gaze.

“Do you want me too?” you asked softly, almost whispering, unable to look at him.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, you heard a quiet sigh, followed by a smile.

“All of a sudden, you’re shy?”

You felt his fingers brush against your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his gaze. His eyes were darker now, his expression serious—but amused at the same time.

“What happened to the girl who wouldn’t stop teasing me?”

You blushed even more, and he chuckled softly.

“Cute,” he murmured, lowering his face toward your ear. “I’ve dreamed about this moment for months.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

He tilted his head, his nose grazing your skin as his hands slid down to your waist.

“Every time I saw you, every time you laughed, every time you looked at me with those eyes…” His voice dropped lower as he pressed a soft kiss to your earlobe. “…I became obsessed.”

Your breath hitched.

His hands traveled back up, gripping your waist slightly. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

You turned slightly toward him, your heart pounding in your chest.

He smiled, but his eyes were dark, filled with something deeper.

“But do you know what I like the most?” he whispered, his lips just barely brushing against yours.

You swallowed, shaken by the way his body pressed against yours. “What…?”

He smirked, tilting his head.

“The fact that with me, you’ve let yourself go.”

He kissed your neck, his lips warm against your skin, still damp from the rain.

“The sweet girl that everyone loves…” His hands slid down your back, touching you with an agonizing slowness. “…but with me, she loves to tease.”

His teeth grazed your skin lightly, making you shiver.

And then, in a deeper voice, he added:

“You know something?”

You swallowed hard, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his lips trace down your jawline.

He smiled against your skin.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about you.”

Your breath caught.

“How many times I’ve touched myself thinking about you.”

Your eyes snapped open, heat surging through your body.

Heeseung pulled back just slightly, watching your reaction with an amused smirk.

“Does that embarrass you?”

You shook your head quickly. “No.”

He chuckled. “You’re adorable when you try to act tough.”

Then, with a more commanding tone, he grabbed the hem of his soaked shirt and lifted it slightly.

“If you really want me,” he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours, “then take it off.”

You took off his shirt without saying a word, your hands sliding over his warm skin as you brought your lips to his neck. You began kissing him softly, letting yourself go with small bites and gentle sucks, feeling his breath grow heavier. He chuckled amusedly and, with a provocative smile, asked:

“Where did you learn these things?”

You looked up, a flash of challenge in your eyes.

“From the books you recommended to me this summer.”

His laugh filled the room, vibrant and genuine, as he teased you in return. But you didn’t stop. You continued down, your lips grazing his collarbone, then his chest, lingering on his nipples. He bit his lip, his breath becoming shorter. You went lower, your lips tracing a slow, deliberate path down his abs, until they brushed against the sensitive skin around his belly button. A soft moan escaped him, and you saw him run a hand through his hair. By now, you had learned to recognize those small gestures: he did that when he was impatient... or shy.

Your hands held him gently at the waist as you looked up at him from below, a mischievous smile on your lips.

“I’m a little embarrassed… I’ve never done anything like this with anyone before.”

He lowered his gaze to you, his face a mix of sweetness and desire.

“You can take all the time you want with me. I want you to be sure.”

Those words warmed your chest, but a shiver ran through you when you felt the damp fabric of your top against your skin. You looked him in the eyes, biting your lip.

“Then… take it off.”

He didn’t need any more words. He didn’t even let you finish the sentence before he slid the fabric down your arms. As your top fell to the floor, he whispered, with a genuine smile and eyes full of admiration:

“You’re beautiful.”

When Heeseung saw your bralette, a playful grin tugged at his lips. His eyes lingered on the thin lace that covered your chest, and with a finger, he traced slow circles on the fabric, barely touching you.

“You’re too cute like this… so innocent, it makes me want to make you blush even more.”

The heat rose to your face, but you didn’t have time to reply, because his mouth immediately found your neck, sucking with an intensity that made you shiver. His hands moved confidently over you, and before you knew it, the bra was gone. He pulled back slightly to look at you, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

“Finally... I’ve been dying to touch them.”

The way he said it made you instinctively clench your thighs together, but he noticed and laughed, biting his lip. Then, without giving you a chance to react, he gently pushed you onto the bed and positioned himself above you. His mouth wasted no time, moving down to torment your breasts with bites and sucks, intensifying the heat inside you.

A small moan escaped you as his body slid against yours, and you clearly felt his arousal press against your sensitive center. The contact made you shiver, and without thinking too much, you murmured: "I feel ... your length..."

For a moment, Hee stopped. Then he burst out laughing, raising his head to look at you with an incredulous and amused expression. "Length?!"he repeated, amused. "Do you really call it that? Why are you always so adorably naive?" His tone was full of mischief as he lowered his voice and his pelvis barely moved against yours, making you gasp again. "

Say it right, baby." he whispered against your ear, slowly biting your lobe. "They say fuck." You bit your lip, your face on fire, but he had no intention of letting you go without hearing it from you.

Hee peppered you with kisses along the body, descending further and further down until it reached your navel. He paused for a moment, looking up at you with a mischievous smile. "Can I take off your skirt?"he asked in a hoarse voice.

A shiver ran through your back. Without hesitation, you raised your hips slightly as a sign of assent, and he, with a satisfied smile, slowly slid the fabric down your legs. He whistled quietly, but his attitude changed as soon as he saw what you were wearing underneath. His eyes darkened, his expression became more intense, almost possessive.

"A thong?" His voice dropped an octave as his fingers grazed the thin fabric. "And for whom did you put it?" You shrugged your shoulders with a sly smile, without immediately answering, but your provocation made him lose his temper. Without warning, his hand struck your thigh with a firm slap, making you wince.

"Hee!" his name eluded you in a small surprised cry. "Who did you put it for?" he repeated, the more authoritarian tone this time. You looked down, biting your lip, before whispering softly: "Just for you."

His smile returned, more smug than ever. "Mh ... and tell me, do you like it?"you added in a playful voice. "I have a dozen like that..." As soon as those words came out of your mouth, Hee snorted quietly, shaking his head with a mixture of disbelief and pure desire.

"Damn, y /n..." he laughed, but his gaze was loaded with something deeper. He teased you with a few more jokes, but his mouth wasted no time. He began to kiss you over the thong, brushing every inch of bare skin, making you arch under him. One of his hands slid under you, firmly grabbing your bottom and clasping against you. His breaths were heavy, his control almost nonexistent.

"I'll ruin you..." he muttered in a low voice, his lips touching your skin as he spoke. "I've been obsessed with you for months."

His teeth pulled the rubber band of the thong flat before sliding it off. He whistled again when he noticed how wet you were. He looked up at you, a flash of pure adoration in his eyes.

"Even wetter than that time in the pool..." he whispered with a crooked smile. You bit your lip, trying to hide the embarrassment, but with a thread of voice you told him: "Just for you, Hee." And his last crumb of control faded completely.

His hands explored every inch of your warm skin. His eyes, dark and full of desire, rested on your center now lit by his touch. He ran a finger along the still damp fabric of the thong he had just moved and smiled. "If you really want to lose your virginity to me, I have to prepare you well."His voice was low, hoarse. "But you need to relax… and most importantly trust me."

You looked at him with a defiant smile, trying to play with him as always. "Who said I was tense?" But Hee wasn't in the mood for your little games, not this time. "Don't be smart, Y/ n." he replied in an authoritarian tone, and without warning, he shoved a finger inside you. A gasp ran through you as you clutched the sheets in your hands,the breath breaking. "Be… it's beautiful…" you could say, biting your lip. He giggled quietly, his gaze full of fun. "Oh, yes? Then you could get another one, don't you think?" And without waiting for an answer, he added a second, slowly moving them inside you, making you feel every inch of their presence. The heat enveloped you, your body instinctively moved against his hand, while he laughed quietly, amused by your reaction.

"Look… you're making my fingers touch you so well. What will you do when it's my cock inside you?" His dirty words made your face burn, but the pleasure growing inside you was too strong to think of any answer. Then, in a slow and precise motion, he slid his thumb over your most sensitive point, barely pinching it. A cry escaped from your lips. "Hee—!" "Are you close?" he asked with a satisfied smile. He nodded frantically, his body trembling under his touch. But his gaze suddenly became more authoritarian as he slowed down his movements. "Don't even try." His voice was an order. "You have to be ready for me, so I'll add another one." "No—wait -" But he ignored your protest, pushing a third finger into you. A wave of pleasure swept over you, your back arched as your body adjusted to the feeling of being so wonderfully filled. You could feel the moisture sliding down his fingers, your white, slimy excitement shining on his skin. Your hands ran to his hair, pulling it hard, desperately trying to hold on to something as your body completely surrendered to him. Hee smiled against your skin, his voice a whisper full of satisfaction.

"Now you can come." And those words were enough to make you completely lose control. The pleasure exploded within you, and his name escaped you in a cry as your body trembled under his touch.

Your body was still shaking, your breath broken as the wave of pleasure slowly subsided. But Hee didn't give you a moment to recover. You felt missed when you saw him stooping between your legs, his lips touching your still sensitive skin. And then, without any hesitation, his tongue slipped on you, collecting every trace of your excitement. A groan eluded you as the warmth of his breath caressed you.

"You're so sweet..."he whispered, looking at you with bright eyes. "I'm lucky I was the first to taste you. And it will only be so, forever." You stammered something, your brain still clouded with pleasure.

"I ... you ... Hee -" but you couldn't even make a sensible sentence. He laughed softly, his gaze full of fun and desire. Without saying anything, he pulled himself up, his hands running to the edge of his pants. When he slid them down, revealing his Calvin Klein box Hee noticed your gaze fixed on him and tilted his head with a smirk.

"Oh? Are you embarrassed for so little?" Then, however, his tone changed slightly, becoming more serious.

"Y/n ... are you sure?" You met his eyes and nodded without hesitation. "Yes, I want it." He smiled contentedly and confidently took your hand, guiding it to the edges of his boxer.

"Then take them off." The heat of his order hit you right in the stomach. Your fingers shook slightly as you grabbed the rubber band and slowly lowered it. And then, as soon as the fabric slipped off, its member snapped free, revealing itself in front of you. It was really big, slightly pinkish, with a thin patina of desire that shone on the tip. Swallow, trying to dampen the tension with a shy smile.

"Well ... I definitely didn't expect it that way."

Hee laughed softly, shaking his head. "Are you kidding me now?" Then, he lowered his voice slightly. "You want to touch him?" The heat that enveloped you was almost unbearable. But, without taking your eyes off his, nodded.

"Yes…" As soon as your fingers brushed him, you felt his warm, taut skin under your touch. Hee tilted his head back, a low groan escaping from his lips.

"If you continue like this..." he muttered with a crooked smile. "I may not last as long as I want." You bit your lip, enjoying his reaction, then looked up at him.

"Then...before fucking me can you tease me a little the entrance to fit me slightly?" He looked at you for a moment, his gaze becoming even darker. "For you, anything."

His hands slid over your thighs, slowly opening them. Your heart beat faster when you felt its hot tip touch your slimy folds. Both groaned at the same time, the electrical contact, a mixture of expectation and pure desire. Hee approached your ear, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Are you ready for me?"

His cock began to slightly tease your slimy cunt and you moaned at the inward sensation of his cock teasing your entrance, Hee looked at you intently and felt that you were still slightly tight and he wanted your first time to be perfect.

"Dear, give me your hand, if you feel that it hurts too much you squeeze it and you can also tell me to stop if it's too much"

You nodded as you felt more and more of his cock sliding inside you but he wanted to hear you say it in your voice. "rispond Y/n, answer me, I want to hear that beautiful voice not a simple gesture with the head!" you took his hand and told him that you would do it if it was too much and he gave you a little kiss on the forehead and with one stroke slid its length into you slowly and you moaned together.

"God, you're so tight pretty, is everything ok?"

you looked at Heeseung above you with clumps of still damp hair falling on his forehead and he gave you comfort in having sex with him for the first time.

"Yes, yes, I have to get used to it all again," he pushed himself to escape slightly, and then I told him he could move more. Heeseung pushed for the first few times slightly softly on your poor vaginal lips that still had to adapt to his leaking cock, the room was flooded with your body odor, you could hear only the whistling of the wind and rain. with his of your kisses and your bodies rubbing together.

"Hee, more please" you said slightly embarrassed to feel the feeling of well-being of his cock getting more and more sucked by you, he took your leg and put it slightly over his shoulder. "Look at you, so pretty and good at taking my cock, I had no doubt that under that aura of a good innocent girl there was a good girl to seduce to take me well!"

his thrusts became irregular inside you, it was all too much and you shook his hand to make him understand that it was too much but at the same time you moaned madly in feeling it inside you more and more deep. "Hee, please, I'm almost there" you said with tears in your eyes coming down from pleasure, he told you he was going to make you cum and teased you with his thumb your swollen clit and little twitches ran through your body and you screamed his name as your white cum scned between your thighs and his cock that could not stop hammering your poor cunt now soaked and sensitive.

"Where, where do you want me to come, cute?" you told him inside that you had started taking the pill and after two more pushes deeper and deeper inside you felt his sperm splash inside you and groan with the feeling of your bodies still embraced and merged with each other.

After cleaning you up with a damp cloth and taking you to the bathroom to change, Heeseung wrapped you in his arms, your face hidden against his chest while your heart raced uncontrollably. Your breath was still a little uneven, but you found the courage to whisper the words you had been holding inside for a long time.

"...I love you."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, suddenly, Hee burst into laughter.

You stiffened, and with a sulky expression, you turned away, ignoring the slight discomfort in your legs. You didn’t want to look at him. If for him it was just something to brag about to his friends, then let him. But he would never have anything else from you.

You felt him stay still for a few seconds, his breath barely noticeable against your skin. Then, as if a switch had been flipped in his mind, he gently grabbed you and turned you around, making you snuggle against him again.

"Hey," he murmured, his fingers grazing your side.

You pouted. "If for you it’s just something to tell others to brag about, then go ahead… but know that I’ll erase you from my life forever."

Hee sighed and gave you a small pinch on the side, making you flinch. "Stop saying nonsense and be quiet for a moment."

You looked up at him, meeting his dark eyes.

"I love you too."

His words were direct, without hesitation. You felt your cheeks flush, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I don’t believe it..." you murmured, looking down.

Hee smiled, amused, and with two fingers, he lifted your chin to make you look into his eyes again. "I love everything about you," he whispered with an intensity that made you shiver. "I love your sweet and friendly personality, but also your shyness. I love the innocent girl who blushes for no reason and the one who knows how to tease me without any shame."

His smile widened as he kissed down your cheek, all the way to your neck. "I love the one who gets jealous when she sees me with another... and the one who chose to give me her first time."

Your face was now completely red, your heart feeling like it was about to explode. You couldn’t hold back and kissed him, holding him tightly.

When you pulled away, your eyes sparkled with emotion. "So... are you my boyfriend?" you asked, a hint of shyness in your voice.

Hee smiled, shifting above you to settle you more comfortably between his arms. "Of course," he replied possessively. "I have no intention of sharing you with anyone else."

You bit your lip, a mischievous smile breaking through the redness of your cheeks. "Neither do I, you know?"

He chuckled and pulled you even closer. "Good. Because you’re mine."

taglist: @stwrlightt @hearts4cheol @lovenha7 @in-somnias-world @heeseungxo @luvyeni @jayjw16enxp @jvngwni @jooniesbears-blog @gguk-n @cloudykim @enhaverse713586 @stormy1408 @jakesw82 @misssparklyprincess @bamguetismee @jaylajakey @arclviie @strxwbloody @steddie-steddie @jungwoosbaey @laurenmia65 @tasnemluvs @lovellydisaster @rikiscupid @simj4k3 @numnommz @sspidermanss @vixialuvs @smlbch @m3wkledreamy @xylatox @ikeulove @nishikio @ancnymcnzjy @sofiafromvenus @kayjiguki @annovaz @kkamismom12 @forrds @inishij @amortenha @jayjw16enxp @sunnysidesins @isagistar @schniti-is-in-the-house

Rebblog and comments are appreciated

©cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2025.

[bravesaboteur]

The more I think about it, the more Laios and Falin's different perceptions of their parents are a case of "same parents, different childhood".

Whenever someone asks Laios about his and Falin's family, he comments on how they treated Falin but never comments about how how their childhood affected him - in fact, he kind of glosses over it. It's Falin that everyone is rallying to save, it's Falin that's Marcille's friend, it's Falin that everyone has a positive opinion of - he's just the weirdo brother that gets to share some of her light sometimes. He's the one who's only tolerated when he's useful in a dungeon. Falin's treatment is a large part of the reason that he left, but it's the symptom of a larger issue.

When we see Laios' thoughts of his parents in his nightmares, it's all about the expectations that he's supposed to live up to: the expectation to stop being "childish", the expectation to get married (to who his parents picked) and have children, the expectation to take over from his father as the village chief, the expectation to adapt to something that he isn't able to be in the way that people want him to. And these are all things that he has had to be told in some way: he had to be told that Shuro didn't like him, he had to be told that told that the gold-peelers were taking advantage of him - these aren't thoughts that just appeared on their own, these are all failures that someone has explicitly pointed out to him and they haunt him. Some of the things he considers his biggest failures are his failure to provide for and protect Falin and those have very tangible examples he can point to.

We get a glimpse of what happens when he fails to live up to his father's expectations when Falin is born. He expects a certain reaction from Laios and when he fails to give that reaction he physically puts him down, dismisses him, and underestimates how much he understands.

And that's something that's shown to be a bit of a sore point for him - people thinking that he doesn't understand something because he doesn't express himself like people expect. The few times we see him snap at people are because people think he isn't understanding something because he isn't reacting "normally".

On Falin's side, the expectations seem to be a lot different - she's the younger one, for one, she's a girl, and she was so young when the fallout from her having magic happened. She too had an arranged engagement, but that was broken off when she was sent away to magic school and since then, their parents only seem to be passively involved in her life. She's mostly been freed of the expectations that their parents had for her in her village - she won't be coming back after all. She understands why they sent her away, she wasn't completely oblivious to the villagers treatment of her and it was, arguably, for the best so she is at peace with what their relationship is for now. But she still wants to go to her hometown and see for herself with adult eyes because she has never really had the space to do that.

I don't think their parents are inherently evil people - the truth is probably somewhere between Laios and Falin's version of the story, Laios' side tinged by too much cynicism and Falin's by too much naivete.

It just strikes me that when he tried to provide the "normal" way he failed, but given the space to do something similar to what people expected of him, but in his own way, he succeeded. He isn't perfect but his efforts are ultimately fruitful and he is able to carve out a place for himself, Falin, and others who had been ostracized like them to call home.