#and he was like yeah maybe. and then nothing ever happened. this class is just book stuff that goes barely mentioned and useless lectures

[fadedtoneverland]

lemon drop | c.sn

❤︎ synopsis — your hunky boy-next-door neighbor offers to wash down your car in the summer heat as a favor for you cat sitting. little did you know that this would turn into something a bit more than a simple car cleaning

pairing: boy-next-door!san x fem!reader

theme: smut ❣︎

a/n: this was supposed to be released in honor of lemon drop… but i ended up putting it off 💔 hope yall enjoy

cw: smut content, dom!san, sub!reader, missionary, mating press, unprotected sex (wrap it up!!), biting jewelry during sex, light degradation, pet names (honey, baby, good girl), kinda perv san, light choking, spanking, san’s a lil mean

3:37pm on a hot american afternoon.

summer was at an all time high for this time of the year, and it was to be expected when you live in the golden state of california.

families would be out here in the crystallized sands ready to ride some of the most ocean blue waves you’ve ever seen. and hey, cali ain’t no hawaii or cancun, but the youthful and rich charm of the city made it its own unique hidden gem.

too bad you were one of the poor chumps stuck inside for the day.

despite it being summer and not having any college classes to bitch and moan about, a good summer is not without money, and your pockets were looking lighter than a feather. so to scrape together some extra cash, you began cat sitting for your neighbor.

not that you minded though, she was an absolute sweetheart. princess byeol, the darling siamese that could capture anyone’s heart with a single meow.

all you had to do was feed her and play with her for the next five hours or so. you watched her swat her tiny little paw at a stuffed shiba inu plushie, before she quickly got bored and padded her way over to your lap and settled into it, purring softly.

“awww.. kitty..” you softly mumbled, putting your phone down on the couch armrest to give byeol the pampering she needs.

you were star struck, cooing softly as you scratched behind her ears. sure, you weren’t having your ideal hot girl summer like you wanted, but you knew that racking up enough cash was gonna be so worth it in the end when you get to hangout with your girlfriends later.

besides, you get to watch a cute little cat for quite a looker.

scrolling through your phone again, you came across a post of— ironically— the hot owner of the cat you were currently giving scritches too.

choi san. gentleman, hunk, the hottest surfer on this beach town block. yeah, he was kind of a legend around here, and for a damn good reason.

he had the face, the charm and swagger, and the goddamn gains. you’ve encountered him here and there, and he’s always looked like such a dream boat. ripped straight out of a cheesy BL k-drama romcom, where he most likely played the hotshot boy-next-door.

you and him were well acquainted, more than that actually. classmates in college, and you both just so happened to live in the same town, so you often ran into him even before summer. this eventually led to him asking you to look after his cat whenever he went on his usual surfing routines, which was his workout days. he paid you decently too, about fifty a day, and he went out about five times a day. you were practically jumping for joy upon getting paid the first day.

and now here you were, trying so hard not to drool on your phone screen when that sultry smirk flashed you on your insta feed.

“goddamn, he deserves to be a show off.” you muttered to your phone screen. san was like a gift from the gods. sweet, a total gentleman, very hot. whoever was above in the skies were extra generous when creating this man.

it would be a fat ass lie if you said you didn’t have a small crush on this man, because who are you kidding, you so did. it would be impossible not to, especially since you saw him consistently, and he’s been nothing but kind, and maybe a little flirty to you. though, you never would shoot your shot with him, since you were half convinced he’s got a whole roster of women to pick from, especially with how often he gets hit on.

and right on cue, there was a familiar knock knock knock at the door, one that had byeol meowing in excitement and leaping off the couch to trot over to the front door.

you jumped up as well to follow the little feline, opening the door to see the man himself. drenched in sunlight and salted beach water. san’s abs were sparkling like diamonds, all dripped out from the remnants of his surfing experience, making his honeyed skin practically shine. a white towel was slung over his thick shoulder, slightly damp from presumably san patting down his wet hair.

lord have mercy.

“hey, y/n. thanks for looking after byeol again,” sage said with the most energetic tone you’ve ever heard. his dimples deepened when said cat meowed and pawed at his leg for attention, to which he crouched down to scratch her chin.

you giggled slightly, trying to look anywhere but san’s abs, chest, or swim trunks. but even then, looking at his face without dropping to your knees was already hard enough. he was smirking like he knew what he was doing to you.

“no problem, san. she’s a real sweetheart to look after.” you replied, crouching down when byeol moved onto you for affection.

san giggled at the sight. “i’d hope so, otherwise i wouldn’t have anyone else to look after her.”

soft laughter erupted from both of you. san stepped inside, and rummaged through a drawer in the kitchen. he pulled out a wad of cash, counted the bills after flicking through them idly, and tossed the stack to you.

“there’s about fifty in there plus tip,” san said, walking around the kitchen island to face you. “a little something extra to say thank you.”

you tilted your head and counted the bills yourself. san was right, as he added on an extra twenty for you. he’s never done that before.

“really? you sure you want to give this to me?” you questioned.

san waved his hand, reassuring you it was okay. “don’t worry about it, you won’t have to watch byeol for a while since i’m gonna stop surfing for a bit. besides, you fixed your schedule for mine.”

you blinked. this was… very thoughtful of him. you always knew san for his humble personality and serene grace, but never really thought about him extending those gestures towards you, especially since it’s extra money he doesn’t have to pay you. still, the kindness was very appreciated.

“ah— thanks, san. you … really didn’t have to.” you spoke somewhat meekly, trying to remain polite.

“no, no, i insist,” san said while patting your shoulder. “it means a lot to me, especially since we don’t talk much and i kinda sprung this favor onto you out of nowhere. so seriously, just take the money.”

you giggled and gratefully accepted the cash, stuffing it neatly into your purse. byeol meowed and trotted off somewhere to go stare at seagulls through the window, and the ambiance of the gentle summer breeze and waves lapping at sands was all you could hear.

“you know— if i was being silly, i’d think you’re trying to butter me up for something sweeter,” you teased while chuckling his shoulder gently, feeling a bit more confident with your guys’ interactions.

san laughed and shoved you back. “and what’s so bad about that? all i’m doing is being extra kind to my extremely lovely friend.”

you couldn’t hide your blush, but played it off with more sass.

“sure you are, lover boy.”

“heyyyy, can’t you just let a guy do a little something for a sweet girl?”

san and you chatted for a bit about what san did out in the beach, before he walked you out to the front door. the energy between you both has been a lot more flirty the longer you watched his cat, and san more often than not gives you more ins to stay at his place for just a smidge longer. as you stood at the front of his porch, he called out to you,

“you know, i owe you one since you looked after a cat for me,” he said while leaning against the crusted white doorframe, chest still shamelessly on display. “ya got any favors you want me to complete?”

you turned around mid-step on the porch stares, giving san a cheeky grin.

“you just tryin’ to find an excuse to be around me, choi?” you said teasingly, and san rolled his eyes lightly.

“no. just being a good friend,” san hummed. “if that’s how you want to see it.”

there was a slight shift in the air between you two.

you gulped. “well- my car could use a good wash down. and i’m not sure if i want to spend my cat sitting money on a car wash—“

“great. you free this friday?” san suddenly chimed in, acting like he had this planned before, and that shit-eating grin never leaving him. ugh, what an asshole.

a hot asshole to be exact.

you raised an eyebrow at him. “i didn’t even tell you how much i was gonna pay you.”

“don’t need to,” he spoke smoothly, bordering on sultry. he pushed himself off the doorframe and walked slowly to you. “it’s another way of me saying thank you.”

you took a cautious step back, yet you couldn’t resist the playful smirk that made its way to your face. ugh, he was so annoying.

“whatever you say, choi,” you replied, stepping off the steps and into the sidewalk so you could walk home. “i’ll text you my address later.”

“cool, it’s a date,” san called out to you as you walked away, giving one of his little flirty finger waves. “talk to you soon, y/n.”

you rolled your eyes at him and gave a little teasing side eye, before walking away. you could feel his gaze burning holes into your back, before he finally walked back into his own home.

on the way back, you plugged in your headphones and shuffled your everything playlist, letting the sound of music lift the tension off your shoulders. he’s been extra flirty today, and san is always flirty. you didn’t want to be delusional, especially because san has a questionable history when it comes to women he’s interested in.

you really didn’t want to think hard about it, but it was hard not to. your lips felt dry suddenly just from trying to distract yourself, and you shook your head while fumbling with your jeans pocket to pull out your house keys.

‘he’s just being his usual sensual self, he’s not interested.’ you thought to yourself as you unlocked your door and stepped inside, immediately tossing your keys on the key bowl and flopping on the couch.

you shouldn’t be this worked up over a man, even if he was handcrafted by lucifer himself. whatever happens, you’re going to be the big person, and reign in your feelings for him so you don’t accidentally do something stupid and make him think you’re a weirdo for eternity.

… god forbid that happens.

you pull out your phone and quickly sent a text to san, putting in your address and leaving another message for him.

you [4:20pm]: come around 12pm. i’ll be expecting ya, choi

the bubble text with the three moving dots appeared, and you awaited his response like a curious cat. he then replied with,

san choi [4:22pm]: of course. see you soon, honey~ :)

… honey?

you could only pray again to whoever was up there that you had the strength to deal with this flirty ass man tomorrow.

the sound of the garage door opening was heard the following morning.

you cringed as you heard the sound of your rickety garage open up, metal squeaking all being that you can hear. you let go of the release cord, and stepped back, raking a hand through your hair.

it was about 11:50am, and san already texted you that he was on his way to your house, and you swore you could shit your pants at any moment with how nervous you are. san was just a dude, and you kept telling yourself not to panic so much over a guy who was just gonna clean your car.

the way you were earlier this morning trying to pick a casual outfit for today was super embarrassing too. practically tearing your closet apart trying to find some decent clothes that weren’t too modest in the california heat, but also didn’t scream pick me. why did you have to care so much what this man thinks of you?

you just settled on a cream yellow tank top and denim shorts, cute and simple. you grabbed the front of your loose tank and fanned yourself, already feeling sweat bead down your chest as you waited for san.

eventually, you saw a familiar black hyundai pull up near your garage. you stepped out forward to make sure it was really him. low and behold, the man choi san himself stepped out of the driver’s seat, and he looked just as majestic as ever. his outfit was simple for today, white muscle tee, silver military tag, and navy blue jeans, but his natural charisma just made him look even more scrumptious than usual.

san swung his car keys in his finger idly, spotting you and walking over with a smile, waving at you with his free hand. “hey there, neighbor.”

you chuckled and stepped to the side as he approached you, trying to shake off the nerves. “we’re not even neighbors, san.” you quipped playfully.

“suuuure, but we live in the same community,” san points out, his dimples widening as he stepped into your garage. “so in my head, we’re technically neighbors.”

“that doesn’t even make sense, but okay.” you teased back. san sauntered on over into your humble abode, his very presence spiking the air with something much more hot that wasn’t the california heat.

san ran a calloused hand over the hood of your car, whistling at the shape and color. san was always one to appreciate a nice car, especially since he was a car guy, and definitely knew a thing or two about them.

“volkswagen, huh? and it’s an older model,” san hummed. he patted the teal hood softly, like the car was a dog. “wow, a karmann ghia. where’d ya even find a model like this?”

you grinned, leaning against the door of your car. “it’s a hand-me-down from my grandpa. she’s a little janky, but i’d like to say i keep her well maintained.”

san laughed, looking up at you and walking over to where you laid out car cleaning supplies earlier.

“you sure do, honey.” san hummed, his voice sounding even more velvety than you last remembered. fuck, his voice was like sex personified.

your charming smile faltered a bit, eyes fluttering while you tried to pull yourself together, masking your nervousness with a not-so-subtle fake cough. your nerves were frazzled and all over the place. you may interact with san just fine, but just a simple pet name had your hands all sweaty and your stomach churning. it was so embarrassing, you only hoped you weren’t being too obvious.

you cleared your throat, putting your grin back on again, trying to ignore how san was clearly seeing through your mask.

“i’ll be inside if you need anything from me,” you said pointing over to the door in your garage that led into your house. “i’ll just be making lemonade, there’ll be enough for you too.”

san nodded, his dimples deepening with his smile. he then grabbed a nearby microfiber towel, soaking it in the soap water that you’d set up in the red bucket before.

“lemonade sounds great, especially in this heat.” san remarks, slopping the rag on the hood of your car and immediately getting to work. he fanned himself with his loose muscle tee, jaw clenched as he was trying to beat the american heat that just won’t stop beating down on him, and the sweat only defined his plump biceps.

…

you must stay focused.

“… okay bye see you in like fifteen minutes maybe—!” you blurted out way too quickly, chucking your shoulder obnoxiously against the door frame while barreling yourself inside your home. you were too panicked to even feel pain.

san paused his scrubbing to stare at the area where you once were. he couldn’t hide his cat-like smirk, and only shook his head before continuing to wash down your car.

“this shithead’s gonna make me lose it sooner than expected.” san muttered to himself, his free hand reaching for the hem of his shirt.

“wowwww, real smooth, y/n! now he’s gonna think you want to bear his children!”

you roughly squeezed the half lemon into the lemon squeezer, the citrusy liquid falling into plastic pitcher droplet by droplet. it would’ve been so relaxing, if you weren’t squeezing the lemon like it personally offended your entire bloodline.

that little stunt you pulled with san earlier was like a free humiliation ritual, because why did you have to hit yourself on the door frame like a goddamn looney tunes character?

you only paused to stop squeezing the lemon into the pitcher to reel in your rattled nerves, trying not to get so worked up over something so small. it’s not like you lost a limb or something, san probably wouldn’t think too much of it…. hopefully.

you knew san’s track record with his past partners. he wasn’t exactly the… commitment kind of guy. getting yourself involved with him sexually— or even romantically— was a concoction of setting yourself up for disaster. telling yourself that enough times… was enough to get you to calm down.

“.. yeah- let’s not do that.” you murmured to yourself, walking over to the stove to grab the pot sitting on it. your sugar water had simmered and cooled down just fine earlier, having prepared it before san arrived. you transferred the sugar water into a bigger glass pitcher, before taking your freshly squeezed lemon juice and combining it with the crystal-looking liquid, and began stirring with a wooden spoon.

adding in some ice, mint leaves and thinly sliced lemons, you marveled at your beautiful work. the glass pitcher caught some of the sunlight filtering through your windows, making the lemonade almost look like liquid gold. the perfect and classic summer refresher.

taking two glass cups with wooden lids, you poured in the sparkling drink, smiling softly at how it looked. it made you forget how much of a fool you looked like earlier in front of san. capping the cups securely, you took a sip of your drink. the taste was sweet, with a kick of sourness that nipped your tastebuds, but in a way that made you feel recharged and energized.

“not bad for a first time making lemonade,” you hummed in a sing-song voice. your other hand took san’s cup, and you then proceeded to walk to the door that led to your garage.

pushing open the white door, you called out to san. “hey, choi! i got your lemonade whenever you’re ready—!”

your words caught in your throat when your eyes landed on san.

he was still washing down your car, and he was basically almost done, just rinsing it down with a wet towel. that’s not what caught your eye though,

it was the fact that he was standing there shirtless.

fucking shirtless.

his muscle tee was thrown off to the side on the concrete, pooled there like a sad blanket. he was just in his jeans, and the military tag remained on, catching sunlight. it was around 90 degrees outside, and even the tank top was getting in the way of the heat for san. still, that didn’t stop you from staring.

his chest was even more defined than you ever imagined it could be, the sheen of sweat over the smooth tanned skin making san look like he was glowing. his back muscles grew defined when he bent over the hood of your car to wipe down some remaining soap. that’s also when you caught a little glimpse of his tapered waist.. and that fucking v-line. all of a sudden, your tank top felt too tight, too suffocating, and you subconsciously pressed your thighs together just a smidge more.

your mount was agape. you swore your panties almost dropped, and you blinked up when san looked at your shocked form, holding two glasses of lemonade like an npc. his eyes seemed to sharpen more in intrigue, and a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, sweat beading down his forehead and the tips of his raven hair.

“hmmm, is that for me, y/n?” san asked while walking slowly over towards you, flashing that pearly white smirk. “thank you, it’s hella hot today.. had to cool myself down a bit, you know?”

without asking, he plucked the glass of lemonade out of your hand, but it wasn’t the full one you made for him, he took the one you already drank from. maintaining eye contact with your wide eyes. you watched as he took a long sip of the drink you just tasted, and he kept looking at you with those goddamn bedroom eyes. you couldn’t get a word out, lower lip twitching slightly, and you hated yourself for it.

san’s lips popped off the glass straw with a barely audible wet sound, and that made all sorts of nasty and geeky thoughts run through your fucked up mind.

“mmh, that’s the good stuff. better than the store bought shit from walmart,” san shook the glass, and stirred it with the straw. “almost makes me feel indebted to you, honey.”

you blinked once. then twice. you chuckled at san’s words, not sure if it was from your jittery nerves or just trying to be suave.

“that’s my glass, san.” you managed to utter out, voice sounding strained from how fucking flustered you were.

and san just smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“so?” he then leaned in closer, bending his body to get to your eye level. “are friends not allowed to share?”

you stepped back, heart slamming against your ribcage. it was too much. san was such a tease, and he knew it, calling you two friends when he was treating you like something more. san could see how tense you were just from seeing his pecs and abs, it was obvious from how your jaw was clenched and how stiff your shoulders were.

and san just drank in your reactions. ugh, he hasn’t had this much fun with anyone else in forever, and he was about to get more.

he always did.

you gulped, furrowing your eyebrows and narrowing your gaze.

“you’re getting too comfortable, choi,” you spoke, steeling your nerves as much as you could. “what makes you think you can just hit on me like i’m one of the chicks on your roster?”

it was a petty jab. a challenge to see if he’d take the bait

san laughed. the sound was light and airy, but had that subtlety of pure ego.

“i’m sorry, i thought we were flirting this entire time, honey,” san sang like a songbird. “besides, you seem to be enjoying it. i could care less if you think i’m hitting on you for my own ego, i see how your eyes look down to my pants.”

… shit. he got you there.

you could only muster up a half-glare, not having the guts to fully glare at him. “at least put a shirt on.”

“nah,” he leaned in a lot closer, breath tickling your ear.

“i like the feeling of your breath against my skin.”

san stood up straight, and walked past you to the door that led from the garage to your house. he purposefully bumped his shoulder into yours so you could feel the firmness and the thin layer of sweat on him. it was a taunting reminder of him saying, ‘i know what i do to you, and i fucking love it’.

you stayed glued to your spot for what felt like minutes, looking back to see san already entered your home. uninvited, but not unwelcome. just seeing that fucking smirk made you realize he was definitely gonna have more fun with you inside your house, and it definitely was gonna go beyond fuck me eyes and simple touches.

that very thought had you fucked up. you didn’t want to be delusional, but san was looking at you like a goddamn meal. the air was sexually tense, and this sort of song and dance felt all too familiar with how your past hookups would go. you were stunned, knowing that gut feeling you had that something was gonna happen between you and san… was about to come to fruition.

… the thought of what could happen to you with him in your home made your panties much more damp than you’d like to admit. and yet, you found yourself drawn in like a spider to the butterfly.

and you followed him inside your home, knowing you were stepping into the web he already had you trapped in.

creaking. squeaking.

that’s the only sound that echoed in your living room at the moment… other than the filthy rhythmic slap slap slap of skin against skin, and borderline pornographic moans.

there was a trail of discarded clothes leading from your garage door to your couch. the only article of clothing left on you was your panties hanging off from your ankle, but it was barely holding on with how hard san was pounding your sopping pussy.

thrust. thrust. squelch.

“a-ahh!! f-fuuck, san..! hahhh!” you cried out shamefully, but unable to help your moans. your hands scrabbled against his sweaty chest uselessly, which only made him groan deeply.

“fuuuck yess. you like that, baby? ugh, m’know you do…!” san heaved above you, hands planted firmly on either side of your head.

san had you flat on your back, fucking you deeply into your couch. it was a blur how things got here. the minute you stepped back into your home, there was heat, and tongue action, and lots of hickeys.

san’s thrusts were relentless and brutal. his cock was thick and big, bullying its way past your guts to ram into that spongy spot that made your vision spotty and eyes roll back. all you could taste, hear, and feel was san. and damn, were you addicted.

san let out a raspy, crisp laugh, his calloused hand snaked up your throat to lightly grip you there. his hold was firm, grounding, and dominant, but not in a way to hurt you. his catty eyes stayed locked onto your ruined face, and that smug ass smirk only deepened.

“this is what you wanted the entire time, right baby?” san groaned, the sound so deep it resonated within your chest. “me and you.. hahh— in your home, my cock so deep into your guts— fuck!”

he cut himself off with a particularly hard thrust that lurched you further up the leathery couch, making you squeal from delight and ecstasy. san threw his head back for a moment, sweat beading down the strands of his black bangs, before he focused back onto you, hearts in his eyes. he adjusted his grip on your throat to make sure your eyes were on his.

san was so deep in you, you could feel every single vein on his dick dragging against your walls, it was intoxicating. he kept thrusting harder and faster with each minute that passed, and it formed a small ring of cream and slick around the hilt of his base.

the feeling of his roughened hands around your neck had you feral. you could only babble incoherently, hands scratching weakly at his chest, before reaching his hair and gripping hard. his military rag necklace dangled over your face with each dirty thrust, and combined with the sight of san’s eyes on you, had you hypnotized.

you didn’t think twice before jerking your head up slightly, just enough to bite down on the tag.

just seeing that.. fucked up san entirely.

“damn..” san muttered, jaw clenching harder. his smirk grew wider, and that sultry look in his eyes grew darker. “you really want me to treat you like my past hookups, don’tcha?”

before you could even think, san hoisted your hips up so fast your teeth let go of his necklace. he folded you like a fucking lawn chair, your knees hooked onto his shoulders, and ankles high in the air. san positioned himself so he was kneeling down between your legs, thrusting his heavy cock down into you.

the change in position and angle had you screaming. your hands could barely reach him, so you opted to just let your hands clench uselessly at the couch cushions.

and san? he was loving the view.

“look at you.. taking it like a good girl. so dirty of you..” san spanked your thigh once. hard. he went back to pounding away into your guts.

“i could do anything i wanted to this slutty hole.. and you wouldn’t mind, would you?”

thrust.

“wearing that damn tank thinking i wouldn’t notice your intentions... fuck— you ain’t subtle, baby..”

thrust.

“you’ve been wanting this since i got here, haven’t you?”

thrust. he was shameless, dirty, fucking whorish. his thrusts only seemed to grow more relentless, the wet slap of his skin against yours sounded mocking to you, but it only made you scream his name louder, even when he was taunting you in a way that borderlines on cruelty.

“s-sannie!”

“yeah, that’s it, honey. ughhh.. fuck— keep screaming my name like that- and i won’t let you go ever..”

you almost wanted to believe it, but you could barely think about it when san was just fucking you so good. how did it even get to this point? you swore to yourself up and down that you wouldn’t let yourself get swayed so easily by this man. yet here you were, letting him use you like a damn cumrag.

san kept going, his groans getting louder— practically harmonizing with your moans. his hand came down hard on your thigh several times over and over as he got closer.

“shit— agh.. i’m close..” san grunted out, grabbing both your thighs harshly and keeping you in place. “tell me you’re close too, honey. please.”

you nodded, fast and pathetic. “yes- yes please—! m’so close, sannie…!”

san moaned louder at how breathless you sounded. “good.. so fucking good— shit- good girl..! i’m gonna come— fuck!”

he kept thrusting away into you, really pushing you down with his crushing weight so you could feel all of him. it wasn’t long ‘till you reached climax, screaming so loud the neighbors probably heard you. your pussy fluttered around his cock as you came all over him, slick gushing down his shaft and dripping to his balls. san followed soon after, giving two more harsh thrusts, before burying himself to the hilt, and releasing hot steaming ropes of cum in you with a loud moan.

you both laid there for a moment, slumped against each other with the wind knocked out of your lungs. san breathed heavily atop you, before pushing himself up with his elbows and pulling out. looking down at your fucked-out face with amusement and concern.

“hey, hey… still with me, y/n?” san called out gently, tucking strands of sweaty hair away from your face. “hope i didn’t go too hard on ya… hah.”

you could only muster a weak glare up at him, and hit his chest weakly. “you fuckhead… can’t feel m’legs..”

san only giggled, stroking the side of your head with gentle fingers, nothing like the rough touches he gave you on your throat and thighs just earlier.

“at least your alive.” is all he muttered. san then stood up, grabbed his discarded boxers and jeans, throwing them on before walking away.

for a minute, you thought he was just gonna leave after getting laid. that’s how it usually went from what you heard, san wasn’t the type to stay and commit. a part of you stung just thinking about it.

but that didn’t happen, because you heard something being poured in the kitchen. you perked up, sitting up as much as you could due to how much your body was aching— and looked over.

san emerged from your kitchen again, holding a glass of the lemonade you made earlier, approaching you with a sweeter smile. you were dumbfounded, and it seems san could tell. he giggled.

“what? you thought i was just gonna leave you like rubbish after having the best fuck of the summer?” san teased, crouching down to your eye level.

you paused, and responded with a slow smile of yours.

“i mean— it’s not totally out of character for you, san. things get around easily in this town.” you said in a teasing voice, trying not to come across as rude. but san merely smiled, those cute dimples showing again.

“yeah, but that was the san before. let’s just say…” san then leaned in closer. “i want to have a change in pace for once.”

that has you speechless… but not disappointed at all. huh, maybe falling for his trap wasn’t the worse thing ever.

“hmm, i like this change of pace, san.” you said with a genuine smile.

that only made san’s smile brighten even more.

“i’m glad,” san then sat closer, bringing the chilled glass of lemonade closer to you. “now drink, you’re gonna need the energy for when i ruin you later again.”

you laughed, and took the drink. maybe you should invite san over more often to clean your car if this was gonna be the result.

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fadedtoneverland © 2025 | do not steal, modify or repost ANY of my work.

[waywardsalt]

wow this class is not worth the time or money i’ve to had to put into it

[kingdomvel]

Steddie | modern au | famous actor Steve Harrington | 3.4k | ao3

from this post

Eddie can’t stop the laugh that comes out of him because of the video on his screen, Gareth snickering next to him.

“This is great, I have to show this to the others later,” Eddie says. His fingers move automatically, pressing on the send icon and then on the profile at the very top, a move he has done hundreds of times.

“Dude, did you just send that to Steve Harrington?” Gareth asks with a dumbfounded tone.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you acting like that’s normal?”

“Because it is? I just send him the posts I find funny to find them later.”

“You know there is a way to save posts so that they are organized, right?”

“I don’t like it and this is like way easier.”

“It’s literally not,” Gareth says, but Eddie doesn’t pay attention to him or stop.

“Look,” he goes to the front page, slides to the dms and opens the conversation with Steve Harrington, always at the top. “It’s just right there.” He starts scrolling up to show him the long string of unanswered memes and videos, but Gareth interrupts him.

“Wait, wait. Scroll back down, what the fuck is that? Does he read your messages?” He is pointing to the little icon with Harrington’s profile picture just above the last video he’s sent. Eddie shrugs.

“It’s probably a bored media guy enjoying some memes on the clock or making sure I’m not a weirdo, it’s not like Steve Harrington actually uses this account.”

“You are a weirdo, I’m surprised you are not blocked yet.”

-

Eddie is on his phone, passing the time as he keeps an eye on the lonely customer currently looking through the new vinyls. It’s a routine, a mindless action as he saves another post to show the guys later, preferring to see their reactions in person. Nothing ever happens, that’s why he gets surprised to the point of sitting up when a notification appears on his screen.

Steve.hrrgtn: Dude, you just made me laugh in the middle of a table reading

Eddie freezes as the notification disappears. Did he see that right? He couldn’t have seen that right.

He goes to his dms and surely, there at the top, is a message from THE Steve Harrington, or at least from his account. A table reading. It has to be him, right? Not an intern or a media guy. The one and only.

Eddie sends a look to the customer, still engrossed in the new releases. He is tempted to call her so she can check if the message is real or an hallucination provoked by his boredom. When he looks down, the message is still there. It is also still there when he opens the conversation. His fingers hover over screen.

He can picture him, sitting around a long table with his castmates, hiding his phone like a student in class but unable to keep his laugh in.

The vision is a bit surreal. He made Steve Harrington laugh.

Batking: why are you looking at your phone in the middle of a table reading

Steve.hrrgtn: new season boring af

It’s Eddie the one that can’t keep his laugh in this time. The girl sends him a look, but he doesn’t care.

Batking: should you be telling me that?

 Steve.hrrgtn: I don’t even care at this point tbh

Batking: you are the one that signed the contract my guy

Steve.hrrgtn: I didn’t

Steve.hrrgtn: Never let your parents sign you into a multi season show when you are fifteen

Batking: I’ll keep that in mind for my next life

Batking: Sorry your parents made you a millionaire and famous

Steve.hrrgtn: 💀💀💀

Steve.hrrgtn: but really, at the time I thought hey it’s only a contract for five seasons for a teen drama, how bad could it be?

Steve.hrrgtn: now here I am, almost ten years later, listening to the worst script you have heard in your life

Batking: that does sound awful

Batking: you are making me happy that my folks are not in the picture

Is Eddie about to vent about his life to Steve fucking Harrington? It seems like it.

In the end, he doesn’t, because Harrington doesn’t answer to his message, probably swept away into actually working, or maybe he realised how weird it was that he was talking so casually to a guy he didn’t know.

Eddie doesn’t have time to wallow on it too much, because the girl comes to the counter with a vinyl and a question. The interaction with the famous actor moving to a part of Eddie’s brain normally reserved to daydreams.

-

Eddie thought that his interaction with Steve Harrington would be a one time thing, the guy looking at his phone because he was too bored and answering his message because, by some kind of cosmic coincidence, Eddie had happened to send it at the perfect moment. Just an impulsive action that he had regretted later. That’s why he is surprised when he gets a new notification after sending him the worst kind of shitpost ever, the ones that the algorithm feeds him at 2am – the current time – and send him in a fit of giggles with their complete absurdity.

Steve.hrrgtn: where do you even find these things

Batking: you are just jealous my algorithm is better than yours

Steve.hrrgtn: yeah everyday I dream about my instagram showing me a pig made with a sausage and sticks surfing some rotating meat skewers

Batking: It made you laugh though

Steve.hrrgtn: …..

Steve.hrrgtn: It did

Eddie lets out a short, disbelieving snort. It’s a bit crazy, knowing that somewhere out there a famous heartthrob is looking at his messages at 2am and laughing.

Unless this is the media guy.

Eddie prefers to believe that he is so funny he made a guy with millions of followers want to talk to him. Twice.

Batking: why are you awake at this hour anyway

Batking: shouldnt you be getting your beauty sleep

Steve.hrrgtn: we start filming the new season tomorrow

Steve.hrrgtn: today?

Steve.hrrgtn: and I can’t sleep

Batking: nightmares about the boring script

Batking: I see

Steve.hrrgtn: you could say that

Batking: well, check this out, your nightmares will go away

He sends another stupid meme (of the best kind, the ones from accounts that write in Cyrillic) and receives a set of skull emojis in answer.

-

Steve.hrrgtn: why have you stopped sending me memes

The message takes Eddie by surprise. It’s been a week since he texted with Steve Harrington for the second time – which still feels a bit surreal-, and he had decided to stop bothering the poor guy now that he knew he saw his messages. Going to his saved posts was still a nightmare, but Eddie knew how to behave.

Batking: didnt want to bother you now that you are working and I know you see them

Steve.hrrgtn: they have been my main entertainment for months you can’t just stop now when I need them most

Eddie blinks at the message. Months? The confirmation stuns him. The one that had been seeing his messages had always been him and not some media guy? Eddie remembers catching his name a few times on his Instagram stories. This is a bit trippy, if he is honest.

Batking: okay

Batking: as my liege commands

Batking: from now on I am your knight in shining armour your sole provider of memes

-

Batking: *reel attached*

Batking: did you kill the villain today?

Steve.hrrgtn: This is a teen drama???

-

Batking: *reel attached*

Batking: so, is the bad guy dead yet?

Steve.hrrgtn: Again???

Steve.hrrgtn: I told you like a thousand times that there is no bad guy to kill

Steve.hrrgtn: have you even watched my show?

Batking: I mean the scriptwriter

Steve.hrrgtn: lmao

Steve.hrrgtn: no, he is sadly not dead yet

Steve.hrrgtn: I think killing him would be a breach of my contract somehow

Batking: a pity

Batking: the way he insists on making your character straight? He deserves death.

Batking: don’t worry joe from normal life, I saw the way you looked at dacre, I know what you are

Steve.hrrgtn: I think that might have just been the way I was looking at Billy, the guy’s fucking hot

Steve.hrrgtn: an asshole though, glad he is not on the show anymore

Eddie pauses, his eyes reading the last two messages time and time again. Did Steve Harrington, heartthrob and ladies man, just admit to being attracted to a male coworker? Eddie’s thumbs hover over the keyboard. He looks up at Gareth from his place in their couch. He is not paying attention to him, too focused on his laptop.

Eddie is having a bit of a crisis here and his roommate is ignoring him. Maybe it’s best that he is, Eddie doesn’t really want to share this with anyone. Should he bring attention to it? Should he just ignore it and brush it off? The decision is not that difficult in the end. He needs to know. He knows that there is no way he has any possibility of actually bagging Steve Harrington. Exchanging messages and memes is one thing, a pseudo friendship is one thing, but something more? Not fucking likely.

He still needs to know.

Batking: did I just get exclusive confirmation that Steve Harrington likes men? Should I call tmz?

Steve.hrrgtn: you wouldn’t get any money

Steve.hrrgtn: I’ve been out as bisexual for years, the media just chooses to ignore it

Steve.hrrgtn: wow look at these pictures of Steve Harrington with his new male best friend that he goes to dinner and all premieres with! Totally platonic! Oh now they have stopped hanging out completely? What could have happened to their friendship?

Steve.hrrgtn: he cheated on me, that’s what happened

Eddie blinks at his screen. So, he had tried to avoid learning anything about Steve that the man didn’t tell him himself. Just a chivalrous, treat the guy like a normal person gesture, but now he is wondering if he should have paid a bit more attention.

Batking: ah yes, the joys of compulsory heterosexuality and conformity

Batking: that sucks, dude

Steve.hrrgtn: did you really not know anything about it?

Batking: sorry to burst your celebrity bubble where everyone knows everything about your life

Steve.hrrgtn: no no, it’s… nice

Steve.hrrgtn: I have a question though

Steve.hrrgtn: why did you start sending me memes if you were not really interested in me?

Batking: well

Batking: I needed someone very famous that wasnt likely to really see my messages and seemed chill enough to not block me immediately

Batking: and dude, you are like waaay more famous than the show you are in, it’s ridiculous, thought you must be a douche for a long time

Batking: but an interview with you and your friend Robin showed up on my fyp and I saw that you were pretty chill

Batking: so it was between you and Timothee Chalamet

Batking: and it ended up being you because you are hotter

Steve.hrrgtn: of course I am

Steve.hrrgtn: thank you for choosing me tho

Batking: anyone would have

Steve.hrrgtn: the casting director of a complete unknown didn’t think the same

Batking: well thats THEIR loss

Batking: you do a great job with the shitty script of normal life

Batking: you would have acted the fuck out of bob dylan

Steve.hrrgtn: I do a better job in my other stuff

Batking: you have other stuff??

Batking: I’m going to be honest with you here, I only watched normal life so I had context to bitch about the boring new season with you

Eddie looks at the three little dots that indicate that Steve is writing appear a disappear a few times. Did he fuck up? Maybe he sounded too eager, maybe Steve thought it was a bit weird that Eddie assumed they would continue talking. But they have been talking for weeks now. Was it bad to assume?

Eddie closes the app, deciding to give the guy some privacy to write down what he wants to write down and heads to the kitchen to prepare his dinner. If Gareth senses the way his mood has soured, he doesn’t say anything about it.

It takes a couple of hours for an answer to appear. It’s simple.

Steve.hrrgtn: that’s nice of you

-

It’s Steve the one that starts the conversation a couple of days after that. Eddie only sees his messages an hour after he sends them, too busy with customers. The group of notifications on his screen when he is finally able to look at his phone very welcome.

Steve.hrrgtn: so I just realised

Steve.hrrgtn: well, my best friend made me realise

Steve.hrrgtn: she basically said that it’s weird that I’ve been talking with you for weeks and don’t know anything about your actual life and that you could actually be a stalker with a lot of patience or something like that

Steve.hrrgtn: so tell me about yourself? You are not living like down the street from me and waiting for the right moment to kidnap me like Robin says are you?

Eddie tries not to feel giddy at the thought of Steve talking about him to his friends. He has not done it himself, mostly because he tried once and they made fun of his ‘delusions’ as they called it. Whatever. He doesn’t really expect Steve to still be online, probably already swept out to his own job, so he just sends his answer.

Batking: a very reasonable fear, some facts to follow

Batking: I live as far from you as you live from Chicago

Batking: I am a humble employee at a record store where I have to deal with pretentious assholes daily that don’t really care about music and just about bragging about their record collection

Batking: I also have a band with my friends

Batking: we have a whooping 1756 listeners on spotify

Batking: I know, I know, you didn’t know you were talking with a rockstar try not to be very starstruck

The answer, to his surprise, comes almost immediately.

Steve.hrrgtn: 1757

Batking: what?

Steve.hrrgtn: what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t listen to your band now that I know it exists?

Eddie would be lying if he said that that didn’t make his heart skip a beat. Is this healthy? Probably not. Is he developing a weird parasocial relationship with the guy? Probably yes, but is it even a parasocial relationship if he is actually talking with the guy and he called him his friend? This should be considered a normal crush, a normal, hopeless crush.

Batking: a very shitty one tbh here’s the link

Steve.hrrgtn: can I ask something else?

Batking: course

Steve.hrrgtn: you only have one pic in your profile and it’s with your friends

Steve.hrrgtn: which one are you?

Eddie taps the back of his phone a few times. It’s only natural that Steve would wonder that. He could just tell him, or… Eddie opens the camera and takes a picture, too close to see his face properly but enough that Steve will know who he is in the group picture now.

Batking: *picture attached*

Batking: this one

Steve.hrrgtn: fuck

-

Steve.hrrgtn: okay so the thought of you only seeing me in normal life is eating me alive

The notification comes when Eddie is with his friends, preparing for a night of DnD. Eddie was looking up some music to get the atmosphere going, but the music app immediately gets abandoned in lieu of the message.

Batking: can’t get me out of your head?

He knows he has been unable to keep the stupid smile out of his face when Jeff tries to glance at his screen. Eddie immediately slams the phone against his chest.

“Jeez, I thought you were looking at stupid memes again, who are you texting that got you smiling like that?” Jeff asks. He moves back to sit straight, so Eddie can look at his phone again.

“No one,” he says as he reads the new message.

Steve.hrrgtn: so I have a couple of indie films that are very good

So Steve has decided to ignore his message. Okay.

“He’s been like this for WEEKS now,” Gareth intervenes as he sits down at his spot. “He said it was Steve Harrington when I asked him when he started and has refused to say anything else.”

“The white boy of the month?” Jeff asks.

“White boy of the century,” Eddie feels the need to correct.

Batking: that’s great and all but I can’t watch your limited release indie films anywhere

Steve.hrrgtn: that’s why I’m sharing a link to the latest one with you

Steve.hrrgtn: don’t share it with anyone though

Batking: aw breaking the rules for little ol me?

Steve.hrrgtn: yeah yeah don’t get too cocky now

Steve.hrrgtn: can’t wait for your reaction 😉

Eddie stares at the winking emoji in confusion. What is that supposed to mean?

“Can you stop texting your white boy of the century now so we can start?” Gareth asks.

“Just a second.” Eddie sends a quick message back before he moves to the music app again, chooses the first song he sees and puts the phone down.

Batking: send it to me, soldier, I will watch it tonight and give you my honest opinion

-

Eddie stares at the screen of his laptop, currently on his thighs as he was lounging on his bed, seeing the film Steve had sent to him. The film is currently paused, Steve’s face staring at him with eyes and mouth half open.

Okay, so Eddie just watched his famous guy turned friend have an orgasm – fake! Fake an orgasm, Eddie feels it’s very important that he makes that clear to himself – on screen after probably the most erotic sex scene he has seen in a non porno in the last 10 years. Fuck. How did he not know about the existence of this? How did this not make the news? Probably because it was with another man. Double fuck.

Maybe this is normal for Steve, for actors in general, to send their friends a link to a film where you have a soul shattering orgasm with a message about wanting to know their reaction with a winking emoji. It is not normal for Eddie. It is also not normal for his dick, who has not gotten the memo about this not being something it should be getting so excited about.

Eddie bites his lip. His finger moves on its own, backing the film a few minutes so the scene plays again. Eddie tries to convince himself that this is not weird if Steve was the one that wanted him to see this in the first place.

Eddie curses and takes a deep breath. He eyes his phone. It’s late, nearly midnight, but he knows that Steve is normally away at this hour.

Maybe this is not normal for Steve either, maybe he did want to get some kind of reaction out of Eddie.

Eddie snaps a picture of his laptop screen, careful to get the tent in his pants just in the edge of the picture. It’s very obvious on it what scene he is watching.

Batking: *picture attached*

Batking: you sure know how to get a guy hot and bothered

Maybe he can play it off as a joke if Steve didn’t mean it like Eddie wants him to mean it.

Steve.hrrgtn: glad to see my acting is that good

Fuck, Eddie fucked it up, right?

Steve.hrrgtn: it did come out very natural

Steve.hrrgtn: but the real thing looks better

Eddie feels on the edge of a precipice, as if there should be a warning on his field of vision about how his choice here will change the trajectory of his story.

Batking: can’t say

Batking: I haven’t seen the real thing, so I can’t really compare them, can I?

Steve.hrrgtn: would you want to?

Eddie can’t get his hopes up, he can’t assume, Steve is so out of his league, this can’t be happening to him.

Batking: have you acted in a porno I don’t know about?

Steve.hrrgtn: are you always this dense?

Eddie’s heart is dying in his chest, that’s the only explanation to how it’s feeling.

He doesn’t have time to type an answer, Eddie’s screen is suddenly filled with something else.

Steve Harrington is video calling him.

Eddie has never accepted a call so fast in his life before.

part 2...???

tag list: @steddiefication @tailsfromthecrypt @orionchildofhades @coralineinwonderland @theohohmoment (you didn't ask me to tag you but I guessed you'd want to see it?)

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

i'm too proud to talk to you anyway !

synopsis : but if you do, don't you know, that i don't mind...

an. im pretty sure this is the first time ive ever written non bf katsuki/ non childhood friend suki ever...im going thru withdrawal eugh...n e wayss! i thought this was a cute silly concept and i hope i did well ! hope yall enjoy :3

cw. nothing i think ! fluff, forced proximity i think ? katsuki's a potty mouth but..it's katsuki, reader is a sweetie, reader says thank you and sorry a lot so i mightve been projecting a bit sorry twins lolol :P, katsuki is referred to as bkg and it hurts my heart..like thats my man we aint casual </3 katsuki is lowkey pining but unaware and in denial, reader is in the bksquad ! lmk if i missed sum else !

shit, shit, shit. you were this close.

you pant and groan in annoyance, seeing your train about to depart just as you arrived at the terminal.

shit, you knew you shouldn't have slept in !

you loved taking this train because it never got too full. sure, there were always people commuting early but you had the luxury of not being squished to death in a train that, by the time you got to school, resembled a can of sardines.

you could make it, you were a hero-in-training ! you'd built up your stamina for moments like this...probably ! definitely !

so you continue running with all your strength, you don't think you'd ever run this fast just to catch a train in your life, but you remember what happened to kaminari when he ended up late during mr. aizawa's morning class and you'd rather not have to run extra laps.

so you run, and before you can reach for the doors, an arm stops them from closing just in time for you to jump in.

thanking everything that was holy, you jump in ready, to profusely thank your saviour. but you stop short when you realise who had saved you.

one of your classmates, bakugou katsuki.

"oh." you can't stop yourself from releasing the sound when you see him, but manage to fix your face and offer him a smile.

bakugou squints at you, scoffing before looking away.

well, you'd expected something like this.

you didn't talk to bakugou much. you'd always found him and his quirk amazing, especially during training, and he was actually a really good sparring partner. he took you seriously and he was more clever then you thought he was.(with the way he was always rushing into fights head first)

he also gave you a semblance of advice one time, at least you think so...there was definitely some type of advice hidden in between all that cursing.

but he was objectively quite the asshole.

the only reason you even started hanging out was because kirishima liked to invite him to hang out with you all during lunch. sometimes he tagged along, and sometimes he told him to fuck off. but kirishima always being determined and naturally friendly never stopped asking him. you assume that's why he'd been coming along with you guys more often now. guess nobody could resist the boy's manly charm.

and yeah, he was a dick. but you had to admit his quips and his back and forth with sero was pretty funny. the problem was that you have a feeling he doesn't like you. you specifically, for a reason you're unaware of.

you'd never been rude to him, not even teasing him as much as the rest of your friend group did (watching him blow up was always funnier anyway) but despite that it just seemed like he couldn't tolerate being around you for some reason. he always keeps his responses short and snippy, never even looking your way when you tried to strike conversation.

kirishima had told you once he was probably "just awkward, he's just that kinda guy ! maybe he's just too shy talk to you !" which you highly doubted but decided to keep your mouth shut.

you won't force conversation with him, you had no obligation to. but you do feel thankful that he hadn't let you embarrass yourself. and you really wanna thank him.

it takes you a few minutes to catch your breath, and three stops to find the courage to actually talk to him. but before you can open your mouth again, a huge group of people storm into the train, leaving you to gasp in surprise.

what the hell ? there aren't supposed to be so many people here, at least not in your sacred train !! what was going on ?!

to your utter dismay and irritation, you're being pushed and shoved around for other people to claim their places, growing more annoyed at the people shoving and insisting their was space and telling others to "please move along!"

"fucking hell..." you mutter, irritated.

"could fuckin' say that again."

you look up to see bakugou looking ahead at nothing. his scowl is ever present, if not harsher, and he grunts when he feels someone shove his shoulder, shoving them back with a growl. must be nice having balls of steel.

"oh, woops. sorry.." you apologise, trying your very best not to press up against him too much. despite the train crowding more and more.

"whatever. just stop squirming."

"it's not like i'm doing it on purpose !" you hiss defensively. bakugou rolls his eyes, but remains quiet.

you feel an arm in you rib and instinctively lean away, thus closer to bakugou. his eyes flit down towards you, but again, he says nothing.

"ugh—uhm, thank you—for this morning." you whisper, you're close enough where you're sure he can hear you. "you really saved me back there." you joke.

bakugou doesn't miss a beat, looking down at you with an eyebrow raised "yeah well. guess i felt nice for a change and didn't want you to embarrass yourself, running after the train like an idiot."

your face warms and you furrow your brows 'i was gonna make it."

he huffs out a laugh, you think this is the first time you've seen him do anything but frown. "sure, keep telling yourself that."

suddenly, the train comes to an abrupt halt. causing passengers to exclaim and jolt around, one such passenger bumps against you, shoving you forward. you trip, landing straight against bakugou's chest. your nose hurts as soon as you make contact. you'd seen how ripped this guy was, but was he genuinely made out of fucking stone ?!

your eyes snap open when an arm—his arm, wraps around your shoulder to stabilise you, he mutters curses under his breath towards the train constructor. he smells nice. you brace yourself against his chest.

"watch it, dumbass." he warns lowly. his voice quivers just a bit, like he's holding something back.

"...sorry. my bad." you squeak. the next time the train comes to a halt, you practically jump away from each other, avoiding looking each other in the eye while still being forced so close. you do notice the way that bakugou's arm stays behind your shoulder just a little bit longer. you notice but pretend you don't. looking up at him through the corner of your eye you see the way his jaw is set tight. you quickly look away.

(you don't notice him looking at you.)

after a certain stop, the train finally empties out. you take a deep breath, giving bakugou one last glance before finding a free spot to sit and finally relax your shoulders.

you jump when bakugou sits in the spot beside yours. there weren't that many left open, but there were definitely still way more free spots away from you.

"thanks, again." you mutter, avoiding eye contact.

bakugou grits his teeth, groaning like you saying those words pained him. or irritated him (or both.)

"stop thanking me, just didn't wanna get knocked over. fuckin' bastards fell limp like a stack of dominoes.."

his response makes you snorts unexpectedly, "yeah, it's usually not this full."

"s'cus the previous train got cancelled. somethin' about an accident." your classmate explains.

you blink in surprise, was bakugou—your most explosive antisocial classmate—actually having a genuine conversation with you ?!

and suddenly you can't think of anything else to say besides "oh, makes sense."

"well, anyway...even if you didn't mean to, i'm glad. means i won't have to get crucified by mr. aizawa for being late.."

bakugou scoffs, but it sounds almost like a disguised laugh.

the announcer calls for the next stop, two more stops and you'll get off.

then, a lightbulb.

"oh, hey. i didn't know you took this train too ! i've never seen you."

bakugou doesn't look at you, squinting at himself through the opposite window, his leg bounces.

"usually sit in the front."

you raise an eyebrow "what made you come to the back ?"

"q-quit questioning me, dammit ! your ass should be grateful i was even in the back so you didn't fuckin' slice your hand off !"

now this was more like the bakugou you were familiar with, and for some reason this puts you at ease. you laugh at his defensiveness, and bakugou visibly un-tenses. he leans back and rests his head into his palm, muttering about you being "so damn weird..."

you manage to arrive to school without any further hiccups. and despite bakugou not actively making conversation with you, his strides almost match yours, like he wants you to catch up to him. and even though he barely gives you a nod when you wave at him later in between classes, you feel like you've gotten closer to him somehow. anyway, you're just glad to know he doesn't despise you.

when kirishima invites him to hang out during lunch today and you and your other friends wait for a response from him, some of your friends egging him on, you catch the way his eyes meet yours before he reluctantly agrees, calling your friends "fuckin' clingy".

he sits next to you during lunch.

kaminari whines about it, saying something about how he stole his spot.

"you snooze you fuckin' lose, dunce face." bakugou quips, causing your table to laugh.

unbeknownst to you, bakugou wonders why he'd decided to agree to hang out with you all more and more often lately. you and your lame ass friends had become a constant nuisance in his life. especially you.

ever since he'd noticed you, really noticed you and your strength when you'd paired up with him during training, you'd always been hanging in the back of his mind. your voice was always the first one he heard in crowds, your face was always the one he just so happened to look for see first, and your stupid perfume seemed to cling to him everywhere he went, ultimately always leading him to you.

shit, you were really fucking annoying.

unbeknownst to you, bakugou wonders why he decided to sit in the back as well.

cashmoneyyystuff © 2025. hey, this is my stuff ! please don't copy or modify it, that's very weird and lame and i'll cry. if you want to take inspiration from one of my works, just let me know or mention me in your post <3

( taglist ! )

@jastoo46 @cecelia77 @erenstitanweave @closehereyes @stoned-anime-babe @taxavoider @yannvi @sugurusmoon @allurearia @kaerotica @wonubby @cupidsblonde @catsoupki @ita606 @andysdrafts @omitea @lili-of-the-vally @serpent-hearted @ghostorchidd @shewki @pirana10 @witch-craft-works @kanvis @okkotsuus @dragonscribble @emmiesarchive @screaming-dough @napbatata @cacaandweewizzsstuff @redollface @meowsannie @katszumi @m-inluv @monchurie @the-hangry-otter @starlostlaiba @moonshuul @katsus-mistress @dondeh-zedonutqueen @liluvtojineteyam @aspiringwriter1111 @redvelvetstan1 @niktwazny303 @nemisimp @kit-katsukii @alphasage @milktea-academia @qyuin @bakugouswaif @themultifandomgirl @icey-wonders

[ivyvenus333]

pervert!choso

a/n: wrote this in a 5 min haze and maybe it should’ve stayed in the drafts…

the day your sex tape got leaked was the worst day of your life. the video spread across campus like wildfire, everyone wanting to see just how miss popular took it.

however, waking up to a text that read, "hey, isn't this the girl you're obsessed with?" might be the best thing that's ever happened to pervert!choso.

he almost cums instantly upon clicking the link, the video stuck on the thumbnail as it loads --a still of some loser's cock just barely poking your entrance. choso's mind goes blank, hand instinctually slipping into his pants as he starts to lazily rub himself.

he had touched himself so so many times to the thought of you. at the thought of the pretty face he saw everywhere around campus contorting in pleasure. it's not like he followed you...just memorized your schedule and your routes to class. he knew where he needed to be and at what time to just get a glimpse of you.

he had never come harder than the night after you finally noticed him, your eyes meeting his and your pretty, plump lips pulling into a polite smile as you walked past with one of your friends. but now he got to cum to the sight of your pussy and the sounds of your moans? yeah, he was done for.

by the time the video finally loads, precum is leaking out of his reddened, angry tip. 4:47 seconds? he can't help but laugh. of course that fucking loser couldn't fuck you as long as he could. as long as he would if he ever got a chance with you.

choso is so so so fucking nasty, jerking his cock to the same speed as the pathetic one digging inside of you. jealousy coursed through his veins at seeing whoever fuck you so hard and so fucking fast. it hurt him, but at least his pretty girl was being fucked so good. he knew it's what you deserved. but he knew that would fuck you infintely better. fuck, it's all he ever thought about.

choso doesn't know how many times he rewatches the video. just that hours must've passed by now because he has lost all fucking feeling in his rubbed raw dick. each time he watches, he chooses something new to focus on with so much intent to memorize everything about you. the way your mouth gapes open as you pant and moan, the way your eyes crinkle shut and flutter open to eye-fuck the camera, the circular motion of your tits bouncing, the way your tight ass squeezes around nothing when you turn around and get fucked in doggy. he just listens to the video a few times, eyes shut and getting off to the sound of skin hitting skin -- your skin. over and over and over again.

his cock won't stop weeping, and he's given up on trying not to make a mess. well, not like he had a choice, he'd just gone through the entire box of tissues he kept on his night stand. it's so dirty, the way his cum drips down his chest and pools in the deep crevices of his abs.

choso inevitably passes out after jerking off for hours. and somehow, his life gets even better when he wakes up. the same friend texted him another link and a message that reads, "part two lol. not as good as the first one :/"

but his friend is wrong, sort of. because this video is from your point of view, with you holding the camera as you're getting fucked. specifically, you getting fucked by the loser who just so happens to have a lip ring, and long raven hair, dark eyes, and tattoos everywhere. someone that looks almost exactly like him. he cums again at the way you spur the loser on with a sweet, sweet "bet he could fuck me better than this."

yeah, he's probably being delusional, but just the thought that you could be talking about him is enough. (you were.)

[jeondesu]

ೀ⋆ 📚 THE PERFECT PAIR !

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ 𝓹airing ꒱ ˒˓ nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader 𝓰enre/𝓽ags. college au, fluff, angst (kinda but not rlly), minor profanity, jisung is the cutiest pie ever oml 𝔀ords. 2.3k

[ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆. ] — omg, i just realized i haven’t posted an actual written fic on here in FOREVER that’s crazy, we need to change that. but n e way, this is actually for @sta4, i’m so sorry this took a gazillion years (pls forgive me) and i rlly hope you liked it <3

“Be honest… do you think she noticed?” Jisung looked visibly in distress, his face drained of all color as if he’d just witnessed a paranormal sighting in his own dorm.

“Dude she definitely saw it, you blew it. Big time.” Jeongin states matter-of-factly, as if it were the end all be all.

Jisung slumped backwards, sinking into the mattress, dark brunette strands tumbled haphazardly over the pillow as he stared up at the ceiling. He’d been overthinking and analyzing every little detail for hours since that fleeting encounter you had with him in class this morning. He didn’t want to believe a word his friend was telling him, still latching onto a sliver of hope that you hadn’t took a peek at his laptop screen before he slammed it shut the second you walked up to him.

He grimaced at the thought of you taking note of his Goku wallpaper, everything happened so fast, he wasn’t given much time to react— though he’s almost 99% positive you hadn’t caught sight of it.

You approached him with a confident stride, your head held high, even adding a little wave which he barely registered as being directed towards him. He thought he was hallucinating from being so sleep deprived, staying up all night playing video games might’ve finally took a toll on him— but as he blinks again to snap out of his ‘dream’, you’re still standing right there.

Jisung was more than confused why you of all people would want to talk to him, praying by some miracle you couldn’t detect how much of a nervous wreck he was on the inside, forcing a stiff smile as he tried his best to play it off like he totally wasn’t losing his mind.

The strong scent of your perfume lingered in the air, making it even more of a struggle for him to breathe, let alone speak, but he couldn’t shake off the embarrassment. If you knew how much of a weeb he truly was, he’d probably never show his face around you or on campus ever again.

“Okay, maybe there’s a possibility she may have seen it, but only for a split second! Otherwise, I think I played it cool.” He recants, brushing off his friend’s lack of verbal support, “I was in the middle of an intense game of Tetris and she asked for my notes!”

Jeongin shrugs, “Okay, so..? That doesn’t suddenly make her interested in you.”

“Yeah it does, because she asked me specifically out of everyone else so that’s gotta mean something, right?” He reaffirms, the hopeful tone in his voice laced with sheer desperation.

Jeongin shifts slightly, leaning further into the comfort of his gaming chair, not even bothering to pause his game of League of Legends to entertain his friend’s delusions. He didn’t mean to crush Jisung’s ego with his cynicism but he had to be realistic.

“You sound like those giddy high school girls who just interacted with their crush for the first time.”

Well, he wasn’t lying, he surely did feel like one. Ever since you spoke to him earlier all he could think about was you— nothing else occupied his mind. He couldn’t concentrate on a single thing, couldn’t retain any of the information he read as he studied, or even play League which was his favorite game of all time. He was deeply, utterly infatuated and his thoughts were scattered all over the place.

Jisung sinks his teeth into his lower lip, swallowing an unnecessarily thick lump that’s been sitting in the back of his throat, “Look, all I’m saying is I don’t think I totally blew it. She even winked back at me when she left! She’s into me, I can feel it.”

Jeongin chuckles at his friend’s sudden newfound confidence but still remains unconvinced.

“We’ll see about that tomorrow when she ignores you and forgets that you even existed.”

+

The next day in class, Jisung is doing everything he can to try and maintain a nonchalant demeanor but it wasn’t working— at all. He’d completely thrown his ‘cool’ act out the window the minute he accidentally locked eyes with you, not even noticing how he’s been anxiously bouncing his leg underneath the desk.

He could’ve sworn you were an otherworldly being, he didn’t even feel adequate enough to be sitting in the same room as you.

You had sat a couple rows ahead of him, he preferred to always sit in the back along with Jeongin. He couldn’t help but stare, you were simply nothing short of perfect— lost in a trance as he watched you absentmindedly twirl the pencil you had borrowed from him along with his notes from the day before.

You had jotted down a few things in your spiral notebook, but it seemed as though you weren’t paying much attention to the lecture, copying most of your friend’s notes who sat beside you, every so often you’d be giggling at something she whispered to you— having been shushed by the professor more than once already.

Class went on as usual— it dragged on slower than it normally did, but maybe that was because Jisung kept zoning in and out. He didn’t take very many notes since he already knew most of the material like the back of his hand, but he still pretended to anyway, scribbling nonsense in the margins just to keep his hands busy, not even realizing that he’s wrote your name several times with hearts surrounding it, flipping the page immediately before Jeongin could notice what he’d been mindlessly up to.

Once class was officially over, everyone scrambled out of their seats to rush out of there as quickly as possible. Jeongin had one more class left that took place in ten minutes, bidding his goodbyes before he dashed out the classroom. Jisung slung his bag over his shoulder, getting ready to leave— until you appeared from seemingly out of nowhere, the sweet scent of your perfume infiltrating his senses once again.

Holding your notebooks flat against your chest, your delicate, freshly manicured hand tapped his arm lightly— just enough to get his attention. As if you didn’t already have it given to you on a silver platter.

He froze in place, still recovering from the shock of the events that unfolded from yesterday.

“Hey Jisung, I was wondering if-”

“Yes.” He blurts without hesitation before you could even finish your sentence, instantly regretting everything— oh how he wants to bash his head against the wall repeatedly at this very moment..

You could see the desperation seeping through his pores, but you don’t point it out. It was honestly kind of cute to you and you found it endearing how timid he’d act around you, a stark contrast from most of the frat boys you’d often interact with.

He attempts to save himself by quickly rephrasing his words, only to come off as more socially inept than he already is. “S-sorry.. it’s been a long day for me. Uh, what did you need..?”

You giggled softly, “I was wondering if you could help me with statistics? Unfortunately I’m not doing very well and can’t afford to flunk this semester, so I was hoping you could tutor me?” Your eyes beamed at him as if they held a million galaxies in them.

“Y-yeah, sure. I can help!” He awkwardly responds, adjusting his thick framed glasses by pushing them up with his index and middle finger.

A smile spreads across your face upon hearing that, “oh, awesome!” You weren’t expecting him to readily agree on the spot, but it worked out in your favor perfectly. “So, what days are you free?”

24/7. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. He would simply rearrange his whole life for you.

“Usually I’m free on Tuesdays or Thursdays, sometimes Wednesdays but it depends,” he answers, trying to sound as if he’s been asked this a million times before. “But.. if none of those days don’t work for you, I can work something else out.”

That was a total lie. There was nothing he needed to work out.

“Oh and weekends are kinda iffy for me,” he added.

Yet another lie. He was quite literally always free.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays works out perfectly for me, actually!” You take up his offer right away, “how does tomorrow after school at my place sound?”

You spoke so casually, completely unfazed, as if you weren’t actively flipping his entire world upside down. He simply nodded. Somehow managing not to freak out instead of dropping to his knees in front of you like some lovesick puppy.

“Cool! Wanna exchange numbers?” You calmly suggest while pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Jisung nervously gulped, his throat going dry yet again as he slowly feels himself about to have a mental breakdown.

You wanted his phone number?

Now he’ll really get the last laugh when he rubs it in Jeongin’s face that he’s got one of the prettiest and most popular girls at school’s number. You switch phones and he adds his contact information into yours to which you do the same for him.

Once you gave it back, his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he sees the contact name you set in his phone: ‘y/n <3’

+

“C’mon y/n, we only have four more problems left.” Jisung is doing all he can to try and motivate you, pointing his finger at the next problem he urged you to solve but you groaned in response.

You invited him over to your dorm while your other roommate would be gone for a couple of hours, opting to study in your room rather than the common area. Your room was on the smaller scale, but still had a warm and cozy atmosphere to it. Movie posters and fairy lights lined the walls of your side, along with dozens of little random trinkets you’ve collected over the years as decoration, and succulent plants sat on the window sill. The vanilla candle you burned added a nice touch, it was calming, tranquil— exactly how Jisung imagined it to be.

“I can’t do this anymore..” you draw out a heavy sigh, looking at the equation as it were in a third language. Math has always been your Achilles heel, it was your least favorite subject and you barely passed by the skin of your teeth each time.

“My brain’s going to explode if I continue this for another minute,” you couldn’t even force yourself to power through, you were beyond over it. Yes, you were being a little overdramatic, but you got the point across— you needed a well deserved break.

His hand accidentally brushed up against yours to grab a colored pencil, “okay, if you really need a break then let’s take one and I’m sorry if I’m overwhelming you in any way. I’ll finish the problem for you and we can stop for a while.” He writes the rest of the equation down on the worksheet and turns to you to hand the colored pencil back, hoping that you don’t notice his flushed exterior.

You lean your arm against the desk, resting the side of your face inside your palm, “can’t believe this is my life now.. studying for my stupid stats exams instead of having fun with my friends.”

Jisung couldn’t help but take some pride in himself for that, sure you may be just using him as a personal tutor but at least he’s getting to spend one on one time with you.

“So you chose studying with me over hanging out with your friends?”

He still couldn’t believe he was even here, he almost had a heart attack when you texted him first that same day you asked to exchange numbers. He would spend minutes contemplating over every little word, every punctuation, and if he wasn’t sure how to respond, he’d simply send you some weird meme that he found while scrolling on Reddit. His phone used to be drier than a desert, but now he’s checking it every 5 seconds in case he gets a new message from you.

“Yeah, I mean I could always see them another time but I refuse to retake this class again over the summer,” you shrugged, “plus you seem pretty cool, I like hanging out with you.”

Was he hearing things correctly? Did one of the most popular girls on campus just say that she likes hanging out with him? He truly felt like he was dreaming— yeah, he had to be dreaming.

“I didn’t think you hung out with guys like me..”

Your brows furrowed, glancing over at him as if he’d just said the most absurd news you’ve ever heard. “And what makes you think that?”

“Uh- I dunno.” He stammered, his eyes darting across the room, looking everywhere but at you.

Curse him for being so damn awkward… and curse you for being the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “I actually think you’re really cute,” you confess, choosing a less subtle approach about expressing your feelings, “you’re nice and super smart too, which most guys aren’t.”

The two of you stayed in silence for what seemed like an eternity before he grew the ability to choke up a response, his ears burning the deepest shade of crimson, “Well.. thank you.”

“I mean it.” You solemnly replied, “Also, I think your Goku wallpaper is really cool.”

So you did notice it after all. But you didn’t care, you took interest in him because he was authentically himself, you liked him exactly for who he is— he’s never pretended to be something that he’s not.

Before you even gave him the opportunity to speak, you decide to lay it all out on the table. Harboring no regrets. “I like you a lot, Jisung.”

He paused, still trying to process everything that’s been thrown at him in a matter of seconds, but he could no longer deny the way he felt. The corners of his lips curled upward, his gummy smile making an eventual appearance, knowing exactly where this leads after he says those final words.

“I really like you too, y/n.”

it’s literally 3 am and i am SO SLEEPY, but i had to finish this for you guys <33 pls lmk if you liked this, likes/comments/reblogs are much appreciated tysm !! ( *ﾉ ▽ﾉ) ✧･ﾟ

[cheesesandwichsanto]

Cherry Lip Gloss

Summary: Eddie is madly in love with you and tries to shoot his shot.

Warning: some curse words

Word Count: ~1.8k

A/N: English is not my first language

If you enjoy the story; likes, reblogs and comments are really appreciated 🖤

Masterlist

You were straddling his lap, your lips brushing against each others, still catching your breath and your lips swollen from the make out session before.

A few drops of sweat glistened on Eddie’s forehead.

You wore a dress - too short and too tight. Eddie loved it. It was everything he had ever imagined.

“Eddie?” you asked him quietly.

Your thumb running over his lower lip.

Your head fell back, revealing your neck, covered in hickies.

“Yeah baby?” he answered, hypnotized by your beauty, not able to take his eyes off you.

“I want you to…

beep beep beep

His alarm clock was ringing.

Fuck.

It was just another dream.

Another amazing dream.

But that didn’t ruin his mood.

It was Wednesday, which meant he had math for the first two periods with Mr. Mundy - and, luckily, it was one of the classes he shared with you.

There you both were, sitting in math class, him a few rows behind you, watching you, his head propped up on his hand.

You were still chitchatting with your friend Stacy, but as soon as Mr. Mundy entered the classroom, you both went quiet and Stacy turned around.

He was madly in love with you.

How you just sat there, wearing your green and orange cheerleading uniform.

Your hair was pulled up in a perfect ponytail.

Makeup? Not too much and flawless as always. Nails? Perfectly manicured.

But one little thing was missing - his favorite part.

He watched how you rummaged through your backpack, pulled out a pink lipgloss and a little mirror and applied it.

Damn.

What would he give to just taste it.

One. Single. Time.

What flavor were your lips?

Strawberry? Cherry? Or maybe vanilla?

How soft your plump lips must feel.

He had to stop himself from drooling like damn fool.

He felt stupid for being jealous of a lip gloss.

You felt eyes on you and looked around, stopping when you met Eddie’s and looking him straight in the eyes.

He froze, - caught in the act.

He looked shyly away, a light blush creeping across his cheeks.

You just grinned.

He was not really subtle in observing.

He used to think you would be a rich, arrogant, stuck-up bitch, just like the other cheerleaders. But there was this one time where you and him got detention together.

Him for being late (and that happens a lot) and you for god knows what reason.

Ms. O’Donnell had to leave the room and ordered to do your homework.

He still remembered how sweet your voice sounded when you turned around and asked him for help.

How your bright eyes locked onto his.

He helped you, and for the first time, realized that you weren’t like the rest.

You both talked for the rest of detention. You didn’t see him as the town’s freak or a weirdo. No.

You showed honest interest in what he had to say - about his hobbies, his music and even hellfire club.

There wasn’t any other way than to fall for you. You were the reason for his beautiful dreams. And the reason he couldn’t sleep at all sometimes.

You were nothing like the others.

You even stood up for him against Jason when he made fun of Eddie one time. Telling him “just leave him alone” and pulling Jason away on his arm.

He would do everything to be with you.

But there were only two problems.

The first one: you already had a boyfriend - Andy Johnson, one of the balls-into-laundry-baskets-jocks. He had seen you and him arguing and fighting more than once.

The main reason, according to Eddie, had to be your boyfriend being a douchebag and dumb as fuck for not valuing you enough.

Little did he know that he was the reason.

The second one: your cousin was Jason Carver. Your mothers were sisters. He was really protective, acting like your big brother, even though he’s younger than you. Everyone knew that him and Jason were arch-enemies. Eddie hates Jason. Jason hates Eddie. It had always been this way. And it would stay that way forever.

At lunch break, while walking down the hallway, Eddie saw you standing by your locker, putting your books away and checking yourself out in the mirror you’d hung on the locker door. Suddenly, he saw something fall on the floor. Without thinking, he walked over to you and picked up what he now recognized as your lip gloss.

Strawberry - he knew it.

“Y/N?” He asked.

You turned around and looked at him, surprised.

“Yes?” You replied.

Your beautiful eyes - oh god, he felt his legs turn to pudding, but managed to hold up your lip gloss to hand it back to you.

“It fell out of your locker. That color really suits you, by the way. I.. uhm …really like strawberries” he said shyly. Not a sign of the loud, confident, stand-on-the-cafeteria-table-and-scream-Eddie.

You looked at his hand and took the lip gloss - but not without noticing his rings.

A smile played on your lips.

“Thank you so much, that’s really kind of you. Normally, I buy cherry, but unfortunately it’s sold out, so I went with strawberry. I really like your rings, they are super cool” you said, resting your hand on Eddies arm and giving him a loving smile.

Where you… where you blushing?

His heart did backflips.

“Cherry huh?” He mumbled nervously.

You didn’t notice someone approaching.

Until you heard a voice.

It was Jason.

“Hey you alright? Is that freak bothering you? Want me to take care of it?” Jason’s voice boomed. You just rolled your eyes.

“First of all. Cousin. Stop calling him freak ‘kay? And no, he is not bothering me. Just let’s go.”

You slammed your locker shut and sent Eddie an apologetic smile before turning around and following Jason to the cafeteria.

Eddie leaned against your locker, bumping his head against it, grinning like an idiot.

He high-fived himself in his mind for not making a complete fool out of himself.

You had talked to him.

You even touched his arm.

For a small second, he thought that maybe he had a chance. But he wasn’t about to get his hopes up. Jason always appeared out of nowhere, and you had a boyfriend.

But he had an idea for how to get your attention once again.

Friday afternoon was hellfire club.

But as soon as he entered the theater room, he was able to hear only one topic - your breakup with Andy.

Eddie was so happy - it felt like his birthday and Christmas combined.

He grinned from ear to ear.

On Monday’s, you two didn’t share a class, and he could only see you at lunch or when you were standing at your locker.

So when lunch approached, he was the first to rush out of class.

He wanted to “bump” into you by your locker, accidentally, of course.

When he turned into the hallway he saw you standing there - but with you was Andy.

You were arguing.

Again.

But apparently you said something that made Andy so angry, he stormed off.

Thank God.

You turned back to your locker to shut the door. That was his moment.

His only chance.

He took a deep breath and walked towards you.

“Hey Y/N. How you doing? Everything alright? I heard what happened.”

A smile spread across your face as soon as you saw him.

“Oh hey. I didn’t see you at first. I’m feeling super duper. I finally got rid of that turd Andy. I couldn’t feel better. Honestly, I should’ve done it months ago” You said.

Eddie chuckled “I’m sorry to hear it ended like that… but also kind of not sorry?” he said with an awkward grin, scratching his head.

“Not sorry huh?” You laughed.

“Yeah, I mean.. I always thought he was kind of an asshole. But uh,…” he reached into his jacket. “That’s not what I came over for. I actually have something I wanted to give you.”

You looked confused “Me?”

He nodded, pulled something out of his jacket and handed it to you.

It was a lip gloss - the cherry one.

Your favorite.

Your eyes lit up.

“No way… How did you even get this? It’s out of stock everywhere.”

“Let’s just say I have connections.”

“Thank you so, so much. What do I owe you?”

“Nothing, it’s a gift…. Go on a date with me?” Eddie fidgeted with his rings nervously.

You were surprised that he asked, but you’d always thought he was cute. And Andy is history. So, why not?

“I’d love to”

“I would understand if.. wait.. really?… I mean…cool. Cool” he tried not to freak out completely.

You pulled a pen from your backpack and scribbled something down on Eddies arm.

“That’s my address. Pick me up at 7.”

Eddie starred on the part of his arm that now is covered with your handwriting.

“Yeah, I can do that. I’ll be there at 7.”

You gave him one last smile before turning to walk down the hallway - the cherry lip gloss in your hand.

Eddie watched you walking away. When you were out of sight he let out a breath.

“Holy shit. She said yes.”

[amiaclone]

You asked I’ll write! Gender neutral reader if you don’t mind

Tw: cursing I guess? Squid game in general should be considered a trigger over all the murdering lmaoo

*In ho sighed for the what? Fifteenth time? He’s been counting it’s what he’s trying to focus on the other thing is well……*

*When he decided to participate in these games again it was to prove Gi hun a point and mess with him a bit so he joined his “team” which well….. they happened to be in*

You were apart of it a strong person filled with determination in debt to a lot of money…..honestly in ho was shocked with how much debt you were in I mean you seemed like someone who’d make it far in live would rule against the poor like he used to be…

But you weren’t you were *trash*

You were lower lower class you were nothing…..

Yet why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?

He had a wife who he fell out of love with before he even met you…..swore he’d never fall in love again after distancing himself with his family and starting the games…..

But you just had to be lucky star didn’t you?

You were “kind” and not in a pushover kind of way just….kind like kind that would not take shit from people but would help others in need….and didn’t hide your opinions from others that deserved it….

It was disgusting but…..In a good way? He wanted you not in a possessive way but in a way type of wanting to care for you and you care for him-

*He shook those thoughts off ugh. Why now? He’s usually so calm and collected…..at first he wouldn’t lie he was hoping you’d die in one of the earlier games but now….he isn’t so sure. Gi hun already has plans to take the guns and fight back he had a plan problem was…..you were apart of the main plan

He probably had to kill you it’s probably a good thing but…now he isn’t so sure he’s gotten along with you great and he has a tiny bit of hope that you even like him back so for you to find out he runs these games….he can’t risk it

You’ll find out anyway but he doesn’t wanna face you to your face he atleast wants to hide behind a mask atleast imagining what you’d say…..

Currently he’s trying to convince himself that these feelings aren’t real……maybe it’s just attraction? Of course you’re really good looking maybe it’s that!

“Uh In ho?”

*He turns around that voice dreaded him more then anything the voice he was ready to hear-*

“Are you okay In ho?”

It was Gi hun

*He unfortunately realised that after breaking out of his rare trance he blinked for a few seconds then nodded*

“What is it?”

*Gi hun shrugged* “Nothing you seemed out of it….” *In ho stared at the ground trying to seem calm but spoke in a bitter tone* “I’m fine…” *He let his eyes wander to you who was talking to he thinks Junhee the pregnant lady? Gi hun noticed and raised an eyebrow* “Maybe Y/n will cheer you up…..Hey y/n!”

*You raised an eyebrow nodding at Junhee before walking away up to the two men.*

“You guys need something?” *In ho sighed he’s been trying to avoid hearing your voice….and you in general.* “In ho seems nervous I thought you’d be better at calming him down…*

*As Gi hun left you leaned your back on the bars of the bed he was sitting on….he couldn’t even look at you.*

“So. What is it?” *You asked he didn’t look at you but he could tell you seemed concerned*

“……” “In ho?” “…….If somebody did something almost unforgivable in any way…..what would you do?” “……What?” *You were confused rightfully you knew he was like this but for the way he got was so….* “Just answer the question…..please.” “Well if we were close I’d….wanna know why. Depending on what they did it’s…..hard to say hey are you saying this cause you’re worried or something i understand i am too but…..don’t focus on the negative so much you know?” *As usual kind…..how could such a good human like you be in these games yet he knew…..He is the front man after all he decided to atleast “ask you” and bond maybe a bit before he has to let you go….*

“Yeah you’re right as logical as ever so why are……you in debt if you don’t mind answering?”

*He felt you rise up you stared squinting your eyes then smiling* “Damn didn’t expect anyone to ask me that….don’t think it’s important.”

*Oh he knows what it is why wouldn’t he a petty part of him felt betrayed some what you weren’t gonna tell him after how close you’ve gotten but he decided to keep his cool.*

“You don’t have to tell you i just asked since we might be leaving this place or if neither of us..make it.” *You groaned* “The pessimism again In ho? Jeez you could…..I’ll tell you though cause you do have a point.”

“Well i used to be pretty rich and well-“ *As you went into your story he already knew it but continued to listen you were rich worked in a high payed business workplace but like most work places favouritism is common. Which unfortunately lead to your downfall.* “Anyways one day I found out i was being underpayed a lot of money so I complained this and that and i got a warning complained again then got fired…..It was hard to find a job i didn’t pay the bills for a lot of things debt grew bigger and bigger then a man asked me to play a game one day and well…..here i am.” *Ah yes In ho nodded at your story he knew it all he was the person who called for you to be in the game….you were a wonderful person honestly what was he thinking you were too good for a game like this is something he of all people would never think he would say.* “Im sorry you don’t deserve to be here after all it’s not your fault you’re in debt…” *You shook your head* “Eh I didn’t have a good of a college degree anyway maybe if I studied more in college I wouldn’t be here but eh atleast i got to meet you?” *In ho sighed and he didn’t want to or realise it but he couldn’t help but let a small smile rise genuinely.* “I suppose it’s…..mutual.”

*You sighed smiling* “I can’t wait for tomorrow we’ll finally *maybe* get out of here right?” *He felt his heart stop for a second oh yeah…..that*

*He awkwardly cleared his throat* “Oh yeah I suppose this game will….end and we’ll probably never see each other again” *You snorted* “We can still talk, we can meet up together and talk and stuff it’s not like we need to forget each other…”

*”That’s right” In ho thought he needed to forget you maybe these feelings would go away….but the the thoughts came he didn’t want to but…..”I killed my brother damn it! I can do this I’ve talked to them for only a few days this is…”*

“In ho??” *He stared up at you instinctively like an animal almost he stopped himself and regained his composure.* “Jeez you seem tense maybe get some rest…” “No im…..just thinking….about all the bad decisions…..humans can make.” *You hmmd* “I suppose so humans can be evil if given the chance with such power.” *In ho nodded* “Have you ever thought of doing something regrettable?” *In ho wasn’t sure why he was asking these…..questions but maybe it was to see the inhuman side of them to make him disgusted in you? Maybe that’ll work.* “Well I’ll admit yeah…..I got bullied and when I found out there father had cancer i wanted to well bring it up tear them down….i think i was about 14.” *You didn’t seem shameful you seemed to regret it but not shamed it only made In ho admire you more as he hated it.* “So why didn’t you do anything?” *You laughed a bit* “I would of if it wasn’t for me asking my mom and telling her like i was about to do the best thing she got mad scolded me and told me a different way a better way to handle bullying……and I’ve used that advice since.”

*He quirked an eyebrow what would it be that he hasn’t heard ignore them stand up for yourself be the the bigger person?*

“Be better than them…..because bullies are the weakest of the weakest in society strategy they don’t want you knowing is you finding out you’re better then them.” *He knows that advice he’s never thought much of it but hearing it from you automatically makes him wanna know more…* “Well then your mom raised such a lovely person….you should be proud.” *You scoffed laughing a bit* “I made a lot of mistakes that i can’t even say thought of some weird stuff im glad i didn’t say or do anyways……yeah. We’re human everyone has made one bad mistake you’ll dwell on for the rest of your life my advice is well…..did you regret it?”

*In ho sighed smiling* “Thanks for the advice I’ll rest for a bit” *You got up smiling and leaving that’s it.* “Y/n you’ll always be in my memory….” *In ho didn’t know what to do with them maybe ask them to join him? No! That would be so idiotic they’d never agree….try to make them understand? Maybe let them go? Why doesn’t he want that…..he then smiled.* “I can’t wait for tomorrow y/n you’re so unpredictable maybe you could stay with me…..”

Anddddd a cliffhanger sorry if this is ooc i was halfasleep writing this 😭

[mytherapyisreading14]

Profiling the Obvious

Summary: Kevin’s unexpected “man-to-man” talk with Rossi sets off more than just gossip — it gives the team exactly what they need to start teasing you and Spencer. A quiet moment turns into something more, and in a bullpen full of profilers, keeping feelings a secret? Not a chance.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Fluff

Warnings: None, this is just pure Fluff!! <3

Word Count: 3,8k

Author‘s Note: I got the idea when I rewatched S3 E14 (the whole Rossi caught Kevin and Penelope drama when he wanted more information about that one case that happened 20 years ago). I hope y‘all like it!! :)

“Pretty Boy, how was Connecticut?” Morgan asks as he drops his go bag on the floor. “Ultimately uneventful,” Spencer says before he turns around to Rossi. “Sir, there’s somebody waiting to speak to you in your office,” he continues and points to Rossis office. Kevin is there, sitting on a chair, standing up when he sees that the team finally arrived.

You turn around to JJ, both of you grinning. Penelope told you earlier that day what happened between her and Kevin - and that Rossi made an unexpected visit at her apartment when they were in the shower together. He wanted to get more information about the crime that haunted him for more than 20 years and it couldn’t wait anymore.

You all watch the situation unfold. “Agent Rossi, we need to talk. About Penelope. Man to man,” Kevin says nervously. Emily and Morgan exchange a confused look, they have no idea what’s going yet. “Man to man,” Rossi says with a smile before he goes up to talk to Kevin.

“What about Penelope?” Morgan asks curious. “I don’t know,” Spencer says, just as confused as Morgan. You and JJ exchange a look before both of you start to sing “Garcia and Kevin, sitting in a tree…” you laugh when you see their shocked expressions. “Get out of here, you’re serious?” Morgan asks.

“Just when I thought nothing scandalous was ever going to happen around here,” Emily says with a excited grin on her face. Spencer still looks confused, he seems to miss something here. “What? What does that mean?” he asks. “Didn’t you hear them sing?” Emily asks in disbelief. “The song meant something? No, no I missed it,” he says.

You can see that he’s trying really hard to figure out what exactly he’s missing here. “Yeah it…” Emily starts but then she hesitates and stops. “You know what, never mind,” she says and starts to pack up her things. Morgan playfully hits Spencer’s head. “Come on boy, you’re a genius. That’s easy to figure out,” he says and grabs his bag, getting ready to leave too.

Meanwhile you, JJ and Emily can’t stop laughing when you see how confused Spencer is, still trying to understand what’s going on. “We’re leaving now, see y’all tomorrow,” you say and wave them goodbye.

-

The sun has long dipped below the horizon when you, JJ, and Emily step out of the building. The air is comfortably cool, the kind that makes the end of a workday feel almost peaceful. For once, the world feels still. You are happy that you solved the old case today, especially because you know how much it means to Rossi.

“I mean, I love Spencer,” JJ interrupts your thoughts. She zips up her jacket, “but how can someone be that smart and still completely miss the most obvious social cues?” Emily laughs, rolling her eyes. “Seriously. The guy can solve complex ciphers in his sleep but can’t figure out a basic playground rhyme?” You laugh with them, trying to keep your grin in check - unsuccessfully, of course.

“Maybe he was distracted,” you say, trying to sound casual. JJ gives you a knowing look. “Distracted, huh? Would the distraction happen to have gorgeous hair and a laugh that makes him smile every single time?” she teases. “Ohhh, yes,” Emily chimes in. “The FBI should start offering classes: How To Talk To Your Crush When You're A Literal Genius But Still Adorably Clueless.”

You pull your coat tighter around yourself, trying to hide behind your coffee cup. “You two are ridiculous,” you murmur, your cheeks already red. JJ arches an eyebrow. “You are so in love with him,“ she says and grins. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,“ you say, but you know she’s right.

“Please,” she scoffs. “You know all his favorite authors. You binged Doctor Who last week and complained the entire time - but you still watched it. And when he walks into a room, you look like someone’s playing a secret love song in your head.” You open your mouth to argue, but stop. You know they’re not wrong.

Emily smiles, softer this time. “It’s cute. Honestly? I think he needs someone exactly like you.” You’re about to answer - maybe even admit it, just a little - when you suddenly freeze. “Crap. My keys,” you groan, patting your coat pockets. “I left them on my desk.” JJ smirks. “Sure. Is that all you left in there?” You shoot her a look and start heading back inside while Emily cackles behind you.

-

Most of the lights are off. The usual buzz of agents is gone, replaced by silence and the low hum of the lamps. That’s when you see him. Spencer sits alone, hunched slightly over his desk. One hand rests against his cheek, the other writes something down in the corner of his notebook. He’s completely lost in his own world.

He notices you when you get closer. “Oh, I thought you left,“ he says surprised. “I did, but I forgot my keys,“ you say and smile. “Ah,” he says, returning the smile - soft and shy - it makes your stomach flip and your heart beat faster. “I’m also still... trying to figure out that song,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “The ‘sitting in a tree’ thing.”

You sit lightly on the edge of your desk, playing with the keys in your hand. “You mean the one we sang about Garcia and Kevin?” He nods. “I know it’s a rhyme, but I don’t really get why you’d sing that when two people...” he starts “...have a thing?” you finish for him, grinning. His ears turn a little pink. “Yeah. That.”

You lean in just a bit, voice soft. “It’s kind of a playground way of saying two people are into each other. Like... they like each other. Even kissing.” He processes that for a beat, his eyes thoughtful behind his lashes. “So the song was a sign that Garcia and Kevin... are now together?” he asks. “Mmhmm,” you hum. “It’s a silly song. But also kind of cute.”

He nods again, more slowly this time. “I never learned how to... recognize that stuff.” There’s something so honest in the way he says it. Vulnerable, like a door he rarely opens is cracked just enough for you to peek inside. You smile gently. “You recognize a hundred patterns a day that no one else does. Maybe it’s just... a different kind of pattern.”

He looks up to you. His gaze lingers longer than usual. “Do you think...” he starts, then hesitates for a second. “Do you think I’d be able to recognize it if... if it involved me?” Your breath catches for a second. You want to say a thousand things. You want to tell him he already does. That he’s halfway there. That it’s been there, growing quietly between you both for months.

“I think if it involved you... I’d probably have to be the one to sing the song,“ you say boldly. His eyes widen just slightly, and then his smile returns. “Would you?” he asks, barely above a whisper. You nod and grin. “I might even start now. Spencer and I sitting in a tree…” He chuckles and for a second you both just sit there - quiet, smiling, the air between you softer than ever.

Then, without thinking too much, he shifts a little closer. “You know... I’ve never really done this. The flirting thing. Or the... song-worthy kind of thing.” You tilt your head, heart thudding just slightly louder. “Then maybe this is the part where we figure it out together.” His hand brushes lightly against yours on the desk. Not an accident. And this time, he doesn’t pull away.

Spencer’s hand lingers against yours, his fingers brushing gently over your skin. It’s tentative, like he’s still not sure if this is real - if he’s allowed to feel what he’s feeling. But then, slowly, he intertwines his fingers with yours. You look down for half a second, a soft smile forming before your eyes find his again. He’s watching you so carefully, like he’s waiting for any sign to tell him he’s not making a mistake.

You give the smallest nod, barely noticeable, but enough. And then - he leans in. It’s slow, almost hesitant. Like he’s giving you time to change your mind. Your heart races, the space between you shrinking. You tilt your head just slightly, your lips parting as the moment settles in but right before your lips touch -

The office door swings open. You both snap apart like teenagers caught by their parents. Rossi and Kevin step out, mid-conversation, but they stop when they see you. You’re still sitting on the edge of your desk. Spencer’s still leaning forward, clearly way too close for a casual chat. There’s a beat of silence. Then Rossi looks at Kevin. Kevin looks at Rossi. And they both grin.

Your face goes hot in an instant. You jump to your feet and grab your keys off the desk. “Right, um, that’s what I came for. My keys. I got them. So... I’m going now.” Spencer, very clearly blushing, fumbles to close his notebook and shove it into his bag. “Y-yeah, me too. I should, uh... I should probably—go.” Kevin tries to hide his smirk, not very successfully.

Rossi just raises an eyebrow at you both, his voice casual but far too amused. “Long day, huh?” he asks. “Yup!” you squeak, already halfway to the hallway. “Very long. Okay. Goodnight!” You hear Spencer mumble something that vaguely resembles goodnight as he rushes to catch up. Behind you, as the elevator doors close, you swear you hear Rossi chuckle.

-

The scent of fresh coffee fills the air as Penelope strolls into the break room, her signature bright and colourful outfit standing out against the muted tones of FBI suits. She’s carrying a huge mug and grinning like she knows something no one else does - which, of course, she does.

JJ is already sitting at the table with Emily, sipping her coffee. You’re at the counter, adding a splash of cream to yours, when Penelope speaks. “Ladies,” she says, in a tone far too mischievous for 8 a.m. “You will not believe what Kevin told me last night.” Emily perks up instantly. “If it’s drama, please continue.” JJ leans forward. “Oh no. Is this about the Penelope-Kevin-Rossi surprise saga?”

Penelope waves a hand. “No, no - that’s old news. This is better. Apparently... when Kevin and Rossi walked out of his office last night -” she pauses for dramatic effect, “- they saw a certain someone and a certain Dr. Reid looking very, very cozy at her desk.” Your hand freezes mid-pour. JJ whips her head toward you. “You were still there?”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “Told you, I forgot my keys.” Emily raises a brow. “And somehow that led to almost kissing Spencer in the bullpen?” Penelope gasps, delighted. “Almost?! Oh, honey, he was definitely leaning in,“ she says. JJ’s mouth drops open in delighted shock. “So wait... you two were just - what? Holding hands and gazing longingly into each other’s eyes in the dark like it’s some kind of FBI rom-com?”

You open your mouth, close it again, then groan and hide your face behind your coffee cup. “It wasn’t like that.” Emily chuckles. “It bet it was exactly like that. Penelope grins. “Rossi and Kevin were smiling the entire time Kevin told me. Kevin literally said, ‘They jumped apart like teenagers getting caught on a porch swing.’”JJ bursts into laughter. “Oh my god.”

“Okay, okay,” you say, cheeks burning. “Can we not make this a thing please?” you ask. “Too late,” Emily says, sipping her coffee with a smirk. “I give it a week before the BAU has a new couple,“ she says. “I give it three days,” Penelope counters. JJ nods. “I give it until lunch.” You groan again but can’t help laughing. There’s genuine excitement behind their teasing. And despite the embarrassment, something in your chest flutters at the thought.

-

The rest of the morning you try to act like everything is normal. Like nothing happened last night. Like your entire team isn’t betting on your love life. Spencer is already at his desk. He looks up the moment you walk in. You expect awkwardness - nervous glances, maybe a quick hello and then heads buried in paperwork. But instead, he smiles.

You return it before you can stop yourself. You walk past his desk on the way to yours, and for a moment you both hesitate, hovering near each other like there’s something unsaid still hanging in the air. “Hey,” he says, standing up slightly. “Hi,” you reply. You’re proud that your voice doesn’t shake. There’s a pause. You both glance around.

The bullpen is unusually quiet. No JJ, no Emily, no Penelope hovering. It’s just the two of you. Again. “I, um...” Spencer rubs the back of his neck. “About last night. I didn’t mean to - make things weird.” You smile softly. “You didn’t. I mean... you kind of did. But in a nice way.” He lets out a small breath - half a laugh, half relief. “That’s... good. Because I keep thinking about it.” You blink. “Yeah?” He nods. “Yeah. I didn’t get to finish what I was about to do.” Your heart skips a beat.

“Maybe we just ran out of time,” you say quietly. He takes a small step forward, close enough now that his voice drops to just above a whisper. “Maybe we could try again. Sometime.” You smile, soft and full of something that’s been waiting a long time to be said. “I’d like that.” You’re both standing there, suspended in a moment that could easily tip into something more when - of course -

“Hey, loverbirds!” Penelope’s voice rings out from across the room. You jump slightly. Spencer flinches. Penelope waves from the stairs, JJ and Emily right behind her, absolutely smirking. You and Spencer look at each other, cheeks equally red. “Maybe not right now,” he mumbles, quickly sitting back down. You laugh and head to your desk, still smiling.

-

The morning is exhausting and not because of paperwork or a new case. It’s the teasing. Endless teasing. From the moment you walked in, it felt like there’s a spotlight following you and Spencer around the office. Every look is noticed. Every word is overanalyzed. Every accidental eye contact turns into a team-wide event.

JJ, Morgan, Emily, Penelope… even Rossi is in on it. And Spencer? He’s barely holding it together. You can practically see the internal panic whenever someone mentions “last night” or “bullpen romance” or, worse, your name followed by his in the same sentence. And yet, no one lets up.

It starts again, of course, with Morgan. “You sure you’re hydrated, Pretty Boy?” he calls out across the room. “You look a little flushed this morning.” Spencer doesn’t even respond this time. He just groans and ducks his head, pretending to read something extremely fascinating in a case report.

You glare at Morgan over your coffee cup. “You’re relentless,“ you tell him. “Can’t help it,” he says with a grin. “You two are my new favorite soap opera.” JJ strolls past your desk with a smirk. “Do you want me to start bringing popcorn? Because I will.” You shake your head, already trying to retreat into your work, but Penelope appears beside you like she’s been summoned.

“Can we just skip to the part where one of you makes a move before the tension physically breaks my screen?” Across the room, Spencer lifts his head to give you a helpless glance. Emily eyes him thoughtfully. “You know what’s funny?” she says. “Kevin said - and I quote - ‘There was something kind of unwritten about the way they looked at each other.’ Like a moment out of a movie where the soundtrack kicks in.” Spencer closes his eyes. “Oh my god.”

You sink in your chair. “This is fine. Everything’s fine.” Rossi walks by at that exact moment and offers, far too casually, “Should we clear the conference room for your inevitable confession scene?” You and Spencer both say no at the same time. The team bursts out laughing. You know it‘s going to be a long, chaotic, ridiculous morning. But maybe... exciting, too.

-

It’s early afternoon when you finally get a second to breathe. You step out into the hallway, heading toward the evidence room to drop off a few files, and find Spencer already there, leaning against the wall, looking like he’s doing the exact same thing - escaping.

He looks up when he hears your footsteps, and for the first time all day, he smiles without hesitation. “Hi,” he says again. “Hey,” you reply, stopping beside him. “You hiding too?” He nods. “JJ tried to slide a Hershey’s Kiss onto my desk and whispered, ‘Symbolism.’”

You laugh quietly. “Penelope asked me if I wanted her to make a love playlist for us.” Spencer shifts, a little nervous. “So… we’re not imagining it, then. Everyone really does know what almost happened.” You exhale a breath. “Yeah. They really know.” A beat passes. Then you both laugh.

It breaks the tension but there’s still something lingering between you, something that’s been quietly building for months and only just began to surface last night. Spencer’s voice softens. “I meant what I said earlier. About wanting to try again.” You look up at him, heart skipping. “I remember.”

There’s a long pause. He looks at you like he’s memorizing you. Like he’s choosing this moment, finally. “I don’t want to keep almost kissing you in the bullpen,” he says quietly. “I want to actually kiss you. Not because the team’s making jokes or because it’s expected. Just... because I want to.” You step a little closer. “Then do it.”

His eyes flicker to your lips for the briefest second and then you’re leaning in, and he’s meeting you halfway, and everything slows down. It’s not rushed. Not dramatic. It’s soft. Careful. Exactly the way Spencer always is - with his thoughts, with his hands, with you.

And when it happens, it feels like something clicks into place. Like this was always supposed to happen. You pull back slightly, eyes still closed, a small smile tugging at your lips. He’s smiling too. “So... was that our first official something?” You nod. “Yep. And you survived it.”

He laughs, brushing his fingers against yours. “Barely.” From down the hallway, the faint sound of Penelope’s voice echoes: “I knew it!” You groan. Spencer sighs. But neither of you moves away.

-

You and Spencer return to the bullpen pretending - trying - to act normal. It doesn't work. Not because you’re doing anything obvious. You’re both quiet. Focused. Professional, even. But apparently, your faces tell a different story.

You barely sit down at your desk before Penelope appears, narrowing her eyes like she’s analyzing security footage. She tilts her head slowly, eyes flicking between you and Spencer like she’s putting together the final pieces of a puzzle. JJ walks in behind her and freezes mid-step.

Emily follows and immediately raises an eyebrow. “Okay. What happened?” You look up. “What?” Spencer doesn’t even lift his head. “Nothing happened.” JJ folds her arms, smirking. “You’re blushing,“ she says. “I’m not,” you lie. “Yes, you are,” Penelope singsongs. “And so is he.” Morgan, now very interested, leans over from his desk. “Did you guys...?” He stops. Eyes widen. “Oh my god, you did.”

Emily drops into a chair dramatically. “It happened! Didn’t I say Friday? I was so close!” JJ points at her. “Nope. I said lunch. It is literally 1:03.” Rossi enters just in time to see Morgan fist-pump in victory and Penelope doing some sort of quiet celebration dance in the background. “What did I miss?” he asks.

“They finally kissed,” Morgan says proudly. You groan and drop your head to your desk. Spencer looks like he wants to evaporate into the floor. “We didn’t tell them,” Spencer mumbles. “How did they even -” Penelope raises a finger like she’s giving a TED Talk. “Sweetie, you came back in here looking like a man who had just been kissed into another dimension. It’s not rocket science.”

Rossi chuckles and heads toward his office. “About time,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else. Emily smirks. “So... when’s the next kiss? Or are we waiting for the sequel?” You sit up finally, cheeks still warm. “You are all insane.” JJ winks. “And so proud of you.” Morgan points at Spencer. “You too, man. Took you long enough.” Spencer just gives a small, shy smile. And even though he’s clearly embarrassed, he doesn’t deny anything this time.

He glances at you across the bullpen, a question in his eyes. You smile back. No words needed. Penelope glances at Rossi’s office and then back at Spencer. “Oh, and by the way, you do still owe Rossi that ‘man-to-man’ talk. Just saying.” Morgan grins. “Yeah, don’t keep him waiting, Pretty Boy. Kevin's story’s still floating around.”

Spencer groans quietly. “Great. Just what I needed.” The team laughs, clearly delighted to have both gossip and an excuse to tease him some more.

-

From this moment on, it’s like the whole team is on a mission: Get You and Spencer Alone. JJ nudges you both together whenever possible. “Hey, you two, why don’t you double-check those files in the conference room? Privacy guaranteed.”

Penelope suddenly ‘needs help’ carrying a stack of papers - right past where you and Spencer are standing. “Oops, so clumsy! Could you two hold these for me? Thanks!” Morgan “forgets” his phone in your shared workspace and asks Spencer to grab it for him, then lingers nearby “by accident.”

Emily even volunteers to send you on a ‘quick errand’ to the evidence room... but conveniently ‘forgets’ to mention Spencer is already there. Every time you and Spencer find yourselves alone - even for just a few minutes - there’s this quiet, electric energy that fills the space.

And every time the moment almost blooms into something more, someone - usually Penelope or Morgan - interrupts with a perfectly timed comment or a sudden loud laugh. At one point, Spencer leans over and whispers, “They’re relentless.” You grin. “At least they want us to be happy.”

Spencer’s eyes soften. “Yeah. Feels like we’re... part of the family now.” You squeeze his hand gently, just for a second. “Definitely.” And somewhere in the bullpen, Penelope mutters, “Operation success is imminent.”

[mcrdvcks]

i hate it here

chapter summary: You meet Bucky at therapy where Dr. Raynor shares a small office with Dr. Cole. You two slowly connect over mystery books and coffee outings. Until one day you don't show up. word count: 3.4k+ pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader notes: i've mentioned a few times offhandedly that i have depression (and anxiety) and i that i have attempted - i don't want pity or anything, just stating a fact. i started therapy like 4 months ago and have been doing much better! anyways, i got to thinking about how one of the only characters who has been in therapy (in the mcu) is bucky. i guess you could kinda count tony, but he was talking to bruce so idk. anyways, that's how this came along. it was kinda my version of journaling, since i suck at it. please read the warnings/tags! warnings/tags: post tfatws, therapy, allusions to depression, alpine mention!, reader has a dog, mentions/allusions to a suicide attempt, some fluff, two people finding each other through trauma, insomnia, nightmares, slight angst, depressive spiral

The Brooklyn office is small—four hardback chairs, a scuffed laminate floor, and walls the color of old oatmeal. You’re already there when Bucky shuffles in, early as usual, hood pulled low despite the July heat.

You’re curled over a paperback, thumb smoothing the crease in the spine. He recognizes the look: concentration hiding nerves. He clears his throat, drops into the chair opposite you.

Silence stretches. Tick-tick-tick from the receptionist’s keyboard. Bucky counts each tap like gunshots until— “Chapter’s not great,” you mutter, not looking up. “It’s supposed to be a detective story, but the villain is obvious by page three.”

Bucky blinks. Small talk, right. He hunts for something non-awkward to say. “Maybe the detective’s just slow,” he offers.

That earns a tiny huff of laughter. You glance up, eyes warm but tired. “You ever read mysteries?”

“Not since… a long time.” He swallows. “But I used to like Agatha Christie.”

“Classic.” You close the book, mark your place with a Metro receipt. “I’m Y/N.”

He opens his mouth—hesitates—then sticks out a flesh-and-blood hand. “Bucky.” The metal one stays shoved under his sleeve.

The receptionist calls your name first. You stand, shoot him a quick, encouraging smile. Something inside his rib cage gives a startled twitch.

---

“Still having trouble sleeping?” Dr. Cole asked. She shared an office with Dr. Raynor, you were just lucky to find a therapist close to your place.

You shrugged, “yeah. It’s just insomnia. I did a sleep test, had to put the mask on and sleep with it for 2 nights. Doctor found nothing, so...”

"Let's talk about what happens when you try to sleep," Dr. Cole said, pen poised.

"I stare at the ceiling," you answered. "Count cracks in the paint, listen to Sparky snore, think about—stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Classes, rent, whether my brother’s eating decent food at school—everything that isn't restful."

Dr. Cole nodded. "Nightmares?"

"More like reruns. Same memories on loop." You rubbed your eyes. "They don't even change; they're just… loud."

She clicked her pen. "Medication helping?"

“I guess. Not with the sleep part though. But nothing helps with sleep.”

Dr. Cole tilted her head. “What do you do between the moment you turn off the light and the moment you give up?”

“Phone. Crossword. Sometimes I Google ‘why can’t I sleep’ like it’s gonna give a brand-new answer.”

“Ever try talking instead of scrolling? Out loud, I mean—narrate the day, get it out of your head.”

You snort. “My dog’ll think I’m confessing state secrets.”

“Sparky might surprise you.” Dr. Cole’s smile is small but real. “Okay, homework: pick one night this week, no screens after ten, narrate the day to Sparky, then lights out. Deal?”

“Fine. If she tattles, that’s on you.”

“Noted.” She scribbles, caps the pen. “Same time next week?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” You stand, tugging your bag onto your shoulder. The chair legs squeak; the sound feels louder than it is.

---

Bucky’s still in the waiting area, elbows on knees, staring at the floor like it owes him money. He glances up when the door clicks shut behind you.

“How’d it go?” he asks, voice low.

“About as fun as a dentist with feelings.” You fish the Metro receipt-bookmark from your book, wave it. “But I got homework.”

“Therapists love homework.” He shifts, pats the chair beside him that you’re about to vacate. “Good luck.”

“You, too.” You nod toward the closed door. “Raynor doesn’t bite, right?”

“She’s thinking about it.” His mouth twitches. “You really hate that book?”

“Detective’s got two brain cells, both fighting for custody. I’m gonna finish it just to spite him.”

“Want a recommendation when you’re done?”

“Only if it’s Christie.” You step backward toward the lobby doors. “I like the classics.”

He lifts two fingers in a mock salute. “Deal.”

The receptionist calls, “Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky pushes up, metal hand still hidden in the sleeve. As he passes, he murmurs, “see you next week, Y/N.”

Your pulse trips over itself. “Next week.”

---

Raynor doesn’t wait for him to sit. “Early again. You practicing small talk in the hallway?”

He drops into the chair. “Maybe.”

“How’s the loneliness doing?”

He thinks of a paperback clutched between your hands and the way your eyes lit when he said Christie. “Less loud.”

“That’s new.” Raynor flips her notepad open. “Let’s talk about it.”

---

A week later you’re back, five minutes early for once. Bucky’s already there—of course—thumb tapping a silent rhythm on his thigh.

“You beat me again,” you say.

“I’m competitive.” He nods to the paperback in your grip. “Finished?”

“Killer was the dog walker. I want my money back.”

He chuckles—actually chuckles. “Brought you this.” From his jacket pocket he produces a scuffed copy of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd.

You take it, thumb the brittle spine. “Vintage.”

“So am I.”

You sit—this time in the chair beside him, not across. Your shoulders almost touch.

Receptionist looks up. “Y/N?”

You rise, clutching the book. “Hold my spot?”

“Always.” He watches you disappear behind the door, heart beating a little less like a war drum. Raynor will call it progress. He’ll call it something quieter: hope.

---

July heat’s worse a week later—New York humidity that sticks to your lungs. You and Bucky leave your sessions at the same time for once, shoulders brushing as the door swings shut.

“Raynor let you out early?” you ask.

“She thinks negative five minutes counts as progress.” He eyes the battered copy of Roger Ackroyd in your hand. “Any good?”

“Ten times smarter than last week’s disaster. Thanks for the rec.” You nudge his elbow. “Coffee? There’s a cart across the street.”

He squints at the sky. “Gonna melt anyway. Sure.”

---

The cart umbrella rattles in the breeze. You order an iced latte and Bucky sticks to plain drip, black.

“Old-man coffee,” you tease.

“Watch it, I’m sensitive.” He sips, winces. “So—you do the Sparky homework?”

“Yeah. She stared at me like I’d grown a second head, then fell asleep halfway through my monologue about rent.”

“Did you sleep any better?”

“Hour, maybe two.” You shrug. “But hey, progress.”

He nods, knocks a knuckle on the paper cup. “Nightmares kept me up. Raynor wants me journaling.”

“Journaling, narrating—therapists love verbs.” You dig in your tote, pull out a slim notebook. “Take mine. Blank pages intimidate me anyway.”

He turns it over. “Purple glitter stars?”

“Judge and I take it back.”

He clutches it to his chest. “No, no—precious now.”

Your laugh bubbles out before you can stop it. A beat passes; his smile lingers. Something warm hangs between you—comfortable, tentative.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says, tapping the notebook. “For the… sparkly lifeline.”

“Anytime, Barnes.”

You check your phone. “Gotta run—class in fifteen. Same time next week?”

He hesitates, then, “Actually—Raynor’s moving my slot. Thursday, four?”

You scroll your calendar. “I can swing that.” Smile. “I’ll bring a better bookmark.”

He salutes with his coffee. “Deal.”

---

The waiting-room AC’s broken. You fan yourself with your Metro receipt as Bucky strides in, hair damp from a shower that didn’t stick.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey.” He holds up the notebook—half the pages now filled. “Turns out journaling’s just talking on paper.”

“Therapists everywhere rejoice.”

The receptionist calls his name first this time. He freezes. “Switch with me?”

You shrug. “Fair’s fair. Go.”

He exhales, heads in. As the door shuts, you spot the corner of a page sticking out of the notebook—your name scrawled at the top. Your heart skips and you look away fast.

---

Bucky’s session is short—fifteen minutes. He steps out, cheeks pink.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Raynor… uh, suggested social exposure therapy.”

“Meaning?”

“Coffee that isn’t from a cart.” He scratches the back of his neck. “With a friend.”

You grin. “I know a place that sells donuts bigger than your hand.”

“Sound dangerous.”

“Live a little, Barnes.”

He offers an arm—the flesh-and-blood one. You loop yours through without overthinking.

“Hope they have purple-glitter donuts,” he mutters.

You snort. “Don’t tempt me.”

Street noise swallows the rest, but the silence between you feels easy, not heavy. Two insomniacs, two notebooks, one slow, stumbling orbit.

And maybe—just maybe—sleep won’t feel so impossible tonight.

---

You push the shop door open, tiny bell chiming. The smell of fried sugar and espresso hits like a hug. Bucky’s already at a corner table, sunglasses perched on his head, studying the menu like it’s classified.

“Morning,” you say, sliding into the seat across.

He looks up, relief softening his shoulders. “Saved you the last maple-bacon monstrosity.”

“You get a medal for that.”

“Working on it.” He nods at your iced coffee. “Still cold-brew loyal?”

“Ride or die.” You sip. “How’s the notebook?”

He pulls the purple-star journal from his jacket, thumb tapping the cover. “Halfway through. Raynor says I’m oversharing—‘but in a good way.’”

“Therapist code for ‘keep going.’”

“Yeah.” He hesitates. “I wrote about… the bridge dream. First time on paper.”

You lean in. “Any lighter?”

“Maybe a gram.” He flicks his gaze to the donut display. “Your turn—sleep narration working?”

“Managed four hours straight on Wednesday.” You raise the coffee in salute. “Progress.”

He grins. “Therapists everywhere rejoice.”

A server comes by to hand off the plates: his chocolate-glazed, your maple-bacon slab.

You rip off a chunk, point it at him. “So—social exposure therapy. How exposed are we aiming?”

“Raynor suggested a museum. Crowds, but no one expects small talk.”

“I’m free Sunday afternoon. Think you can handle the Met?”

He pretends to weigh it. “If they still allow grumpy ex-assassins.”

“Only if they don’t touch the art.”

“No promises.”

---

You both pause at a sarcophagus. Tourists swirl around, soundtrack of camera shutters. Bucky leans close. “Mummies have it figured out. Eternal rest.”

“Jealous?”

“A little.”

You smirk. “Try counting cracks in the ceiling. Works great.”

“Smart-mouth.” He nudges your shoulder. Metal—the sleeve’s rolled up. First time he hasn’t hidden it.

You glance at the vibranium, then meet his eyes. “Cool arm.”

He exhales—some tension you didn’t know was there. “Thanks.”

A kid nearby gasps, whispers to her dad. Bucky stiffens. You step slightly in front of him, blocking the view. “Ignore them. They’re staring at the arm, not you.”

“Same thing.”

You tilt your head. “To me it’s just… part of the package.”

He blinks. “Package, huh?”

“Don’t get cocky, Barnes.”

He chuckles, shoulders loosening. You wander onward, conversation dipping from art to worst cafeteria food, back to sleep tactics.

---

Apartment’s dark except for phone glow. Sparky snores at your feet.

Your screen lights: Bucky Barnes – New Text

“Tried narrating to Alpine. She walked off mid-monologue. Rude cat.” “You asleep?”

You smile, thumbs flying.

“Wide awake, obviously.” “Want to test a theory? Phone call, five minutes max. Talking’s supposed to tire the brain.”

Three dots… then your phone rings.

“Hey,” you whisper.

His voice is low, scratchy. “If this puts you to sleep I’ll be offended.”

“Then be interesting.”

He snorts. “No pressure.”

Minute one: weather complaints. Minute two: misheard song lyrics. Minute three: you yawn.

“Tired?” he asks, softer.

“Keep talking.”

He does—about the Met gift shop, how the snow-globe pyramids looked fake, how he bought one anyway.

“Why?” you mumble.

“For you,” he says. “Figured you could narrate to it when Sparky’s bored.”

Warmth floods your chest. “That’s… weirdly sweet.” There was silence for a few seconds, except his breathing. You blink, heavy-lidded. “Still there?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Don’t hang up yet.”

“Not planning to.” He pauses. “Sleep, Y/N.”

“Night, Bucky.”

Phone still against your ear, you drift. First dreamless night in months.

Bucky listens to your steady breaths, eyes finally closing. Tomorrow’s problems can wait. Tonight, two insomniacs found quiet on the same line.

---

Dr. Cole taps her pen lightly on the pad. "You seem brighter today."

You shift slightly, feeling oddly caught out. "Actually slept last night. Whole five hours."

She raises an eyebrow, gently amused. "And what changed?"

You consider the phone call, the quiet voice on the other end, and shrug. "I think talking helps more than I realized."

Dr. Cole nods knowingly. "Having someone listen tends to do that."

"Yeah." You pick at your thumbnail. "I might be figuring that out."

"Good," she says simply. "Keep figuring."

---

Bucky’s waiting outside when you finish, leaning against the brick wall in sunglasses and a worn ball cap. He pushes off as soon as you step into the sunlight.

"Stalking now?" you joke, nudging his shoulder.

"Just passing by." He falls into step beside you. "Coffee? I need advice."

"Advice?"

He grimaces. "Raynor wants me attending a group session next week. Apparently, that's my next exposure step."

You glance at him. "Sounds terrifying."

"It is. Hence the advice request."

You smile softly. "I don't do groups, but… you handled crowds at the Met fine."

"That was because of you." He shrugs one shoulder, eyes ahead. "You distract me."

Warmth blooms in your chest. "In a good way?"

"In the best way."

Silence lingers, comfortable this time. The coffee cart is in sight, heat shimmering off pavement.

"Maybe… I could wait outside the group room," you offer quietly. "Just for moral support."

He stops, turns to you, eyes bright behind the lenses. "You'd do that?"

You tilt your head, fighting a smile. "I’d even bring a bad detective book."

"Deal."

---

The hallway smells faintly like industrial cleaner. You’re on a metal folding chair, feet kicked up against the wall, paperback open in your lap, Sparky dozing at your feet.

The group-room door opens. Voices murmur, shoes shuffle. Bucky emerges last, eyes slightly wide, tension in his shoulders. He spots you immediately, relief clear.

You shut the book. "You survived."

"Barely."

"Anyone bite?"

"Only verbally." He nods at Sparky. "She allowed?"

"Emotional support dog," you deadpan. "Completely legit."

He crouches slowly, metal fingers gentle against Sparky’s fur. She yawns, entirely unconcerned. Bucky straightens, a genuine smile tugging at his mouth. "Thanks for waiting."

"Always."

You start walking toward the exit together, his pace matching yours easily. "Was it worth it?" you ask.

He exhales deeply. "Yeah. Sort of. I talked. Once. About nightmares."

"That’s huge."

"Didn’t feel huge."

"It will tomorrow."

He looks sideways at you, hesitant. "Can I… call tonight?"

Your heart thuds softly. "Every night if it helps."

"It does," he says quietly. "It helps a lot."

The sunlight fades gold over the city as you step outside. Bucky pauses, hands in his pockets.

"You know," he says carefully, "I started therapy because the government made me. I stayed because… I thought it was the right thing to do. But now—"

"Now?" you prompt softly.

"Now I'm staying because it led me to you."

You swallow, suddenly shy. "That’s… nice."

He chuckles gently, shaking his head. "Yeah. Nice."

You bump his shoulder. "Don't mock my vocabulary."

"Never." He smiles. "Call you later?"

"Better."

He watches you walk away, heart steadier than it’s been in months.

---

Your phone buzzes on the bathroom counter, vibrating against your toothbrush holder. You squint at the caller ID, toothbrush in your mouth.

Dad.

You spit toothpaste, rinse quickly, and swipe to answer. "Hey, Dad."

"Y/N," he starts, tone already tense. "Got a minute?"

You sigh quietly, gripping the sink. "I have therapy soon. Everything okay?"

He pauses. You hear him clear his throat—never a good sign. "Look, I just got your mail. Bill from the hospital came again."

"Yeah, they keep sending it even though I set up payments—"

"I read it," he interrupts, voice clipped. "You know how it feels to read 'psychiatric hold' on a bill addressed to my kid?"

You close your eyes, jaw tightening. "I didn't ask you to open it."

"You're my kid. Of course I opened it. Y/N, we never talked about it. You just went silent, moved on like nothing happened—"

"I didn't move on."

"Then explain it," he says sharply. "Explain why you'd do something like that. Was it us? Your mom? Me? You never gave us a chance—"

"Dad, please stop."

He doesn’t. "We raised you to be stronger than this, Y/N. What happened to you?"

Your chest aches. Tears sting your eyes, hot and furious. "I have to go."

"Y/N—"

You hang up, tossing the phone onto your bed. You sit down hard, head in your hands, breathing jaggedly until your lungs ache. "Fuck," you whisper, wiping at tears you don't want to fall. "Fuck."

Your phone buzzes again. You don't pick it up.

---

Bucky checks his phone again—fourth time in ten minutes. The receptionist taps at her keyboard, and the clock above ticks louder than usual. Still nothing.

He types out another quick message:

"You close? Saving you a seat."

Five minutes pass as his knee bounces. Another text:

"You okay?"

Raynor opens her office door. "Barnes?"

He stares at your empty chair, then back at her. "Can we reschedule?"

She frowns slightly. "Is something wrong?"

"I gotta check on something." He stands abruptly. "I'll call."

Raynor just nods slowly. "Alright. Call if you need anything."

He’s already out the door.

---

He knocks gently at your apartment door, listening closely. "Y/N?"

No answer.

Bucky knocks again. "Y/N, it's me. You missed therapy. Just checking in."

Silence. Anxiety creeps up his spine, icy and familiar. He tries the handle. Locked.

He pulls out his phone again, sends a text:

"Outside your door. Please open."

Nothing. He leans his forehead against the wood, closing his eyes briefly. "Please," he murmurs.

Then, faintly, your voice comes through: "It's unlocked now."

---

Your apartment’s dark, curtains drawn tight. Sparky is curled on the couch, lifting her head as Bucky steps inside. You’re sitting cross-legged in the corner of the couch, eyes swollen, a blanket draped over your shoulders.

"Hey," he says softly, approaching slowly. "Mind if I sit?"

You shake your head silently, eyes fixed on your hands.

Bucky sits carefully beside you, keeping a cautious distance. "You wanna talk about it?"

You don’t answer. He waits, watching your profile, noticing the tightness in your jaw, the subtle trembling in your hands.

"My dad called," you say finally, voice thick. "He got a bill from the hospital. From… a while ago."

Bucky nods slightly. "Didn’t go well?"

A shaky laugh escapes your throat. "He blamed me. Said… said they raised me stronger. Like I chose to be weak."

Your voice cracks on the last word. Tears spill over, quiet and unstoppable. "I didn’t choose this."

Bucky’s throat tightens. "I know."

"He asked what happened to me," you whisper, voice breaking. "I don't know how to answer that."

He moves closer, gentle and slow. "You don’t have to know right now."

You swallow hard. "I keep trying to be better. Therapy, homework, all the fucking talking—but it’s never enough." You bury your face in your hands, shoulders shaking. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to—"

"Hey," he interrupts gently. "Stop apologizing."

You cry harder, trying to hold back sobs that spill through your fingers. He doesn't say anything more—just reaches out slowly, carefully pulling you against him. You tense at first, then melt against his chest. His arms circle you gently but firmly, his hand stroking your back as you tremble.

"You don't have to do this alone," he says softly, his voice steady in your ear. "I promise."

You nod, unable to speak. Sparky whines softly, shifting closer, pressing warmth into your side.

Bucky holds you until the tears slow, until your breathing evens slightly, his grip never loosening.

"You don't have to explain anything," he whispers finally. "Not to him, not to me—not until you're ready."

You sit up slowly, wiping your eyes, embarrassed. "Sorry," you whisper again.

He squeezes your shoulder gently, shaking his head. "No more apologies."

You sniff softly, leaning your head back against the couch. "I missed therapy."

"Cole'll forgive you. I skipped too."

You glance at him, eyes tired but softer. "They’ll kill us both."

"They’ll deal." He smiles gently, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. "You hungry?"

You shake your head slowly. "Not yet."

"Then we'll wait." He leans back beside you, Sparky settling between you both. "We have time."

You let out a breath, lighter now. The ache still lingers in your chest, but it’s quieter, bearable. "Thank you," you whisper.

He looks at you, steady and calm. "Anytime, Y/N."

sparky is actually the name of my one of my dogs, so you can tell i'm super creative, lol. to lighten things up, here's a picture of her:

we've had her since i was in elementary, so like 12-14 years? she's also around the same age. we think she's have golden retriever, half chihuahua. i know that sounds insane but google that and look at the pictures - a few of them look exactly like her. she's a rescue, so we aren't sure about age, etc. anyways, thank you for reading!

[wcnderlnds]

bed chem ★ choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: having an intimate dream about your best friend wasn't on your bingo card and neither was his offer to make it come true ・❥・word count: 2.3k ・❥・warnings: 18+ mdni. unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), choking, swearing ・❥・ authors note: this could be bad idk but its been stuck in my head for like a week and i wanted to get it out.

It wasn’t often that Seunghyun woke up during the middle of the night – he was a heavy sleeper, usually sleeping through anything but tonight he couldn’t stop tossing and turning. So, he decided to get up and out of bed and get himself a glass of water. Maybe it would help. Opening the fridge, he pulled out a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig as he leant against the counter. Glasses adorned his face, his usual spotted pyjamas covering his body. He took a few minutes, soaking in the quiet and the refreshing drink before he padded his way back to his room.

“Oh, Seunghyun.”

His ears perked up when he heard his name coming from the room you were staying in. It wasn’t even you saying his name either. A moan. It was a moan. He felt his lips quirk up into a smirk knowing exactly what was happening and he couldn’t wait until the morning to tease you endlessly. He chuckled to himself, making his way back to his room with a spring in his step. He was definitely going to sleep well now.

You woke up that morning sweating, sitting up in bed with a pounding heart and a confused head. There was no way you’d had a dream like that about Seunghyun. There couldn’t be. Maybe you had thought about how handsome he was a couple of times but never to the extent of having intimate dreams about him. Did it have some deeper meaning? Was your head telling you something you didn’t even really want to admit yet? No, it was just a dream. Nothing more. No deeper meaning.

It was a shower later before you headed out towards the living room where Seunghyun was already sat, scrolling through Instagram on his phone. You sat down beside him, tucking your legs under yourself. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, indeed,” he said with a grin, looking up from his phone. There was a glint in his eye that didn’t go amiss. “Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “It was good.”

“Oh, I bet it was.” He wiggled a brow at you which caused you to narrow your eyes at him. What was he playing at?

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m just certain you had a… moaningful night's sleep.”

The play on words didn’t register with you at first but when it did, your cheeks flushed instantly. There was no way he could know, right? He was just being Seunghyun, making corny jokes that only he thought were hilarious. You’d had to put up with them for the last seven years that you’d known him so you were used to them. His sense of humour was strange, a little dry sometimes but you’d always thought he was one of the funniest people you’d ever met… when you understood what the heck he was joking about.

“You’re weird,” you scoffed, leaning over to the coffee table to grab the TV remote. The silence lingered between you both, the sound from the TV the only noise throughout the room. That was until Seunghyun went and opened his mouth again.

“As weird as having a sex dream about your best friend?” He snickered.

You choked on air, your cheeks heating up once again. “What?!”

“Oh, Seunghyun!” He mimicked the moan he’d heard coming from your room last night. The glee on his face annoyed you to no end but the embarrassment was stronger.

“Oh my God,” you groaned, your hands moving to cover your face in sheer humiliation. “I didn’t.”

“Oh, you did,” he grinned. “Sounded like you were having one hell of a time. Care to share with the class.”

“Nope,” you immediately got to your feet, heading out towards the kitchen area instead. Seunghyun was quick, jumping up to follow you. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you towards him.

“Nuh-uh. You don’t get away with it that easily.”

“I’m not telling you shit.”

“Why not? Scared that I’ll be able to make it come true?”

His gaze was intense, his deep brown eyes meeting yours. You had seen many sides of Seunghyun through the years but this was new. He was looking at you like you were this completely new entity, like you were more than just his friend. It wasn’t like you hadn’t flirted before — you had many times but this felt more charged. It felt real like one right word and he would eat you right up. Was the risk worth it, though? Could you really cross that line then be okay afterwards? Flashes of the dream appeared in your head. The way he had made you feel, the way he had touched you — it was enough to see how accurate it would be in real life.

“You’re joking,” you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d be holding.

“Nope. Tell me what happened in the dream. Please. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way you moaned my name,” his voice was a low rasp. His eyes never left yours, the desire swirling in them.

The pros and cons were weighing on your mind but the desperate look on his face made you crumble. Whatever he had heard last night had really affected him to the point he was here ready to throw a whole friendship away. It was with a quiet, embarrassed whisper you spoke. “Uh… you fucked me against the windows and you were choking me and being really commanding. It was really hot.”

“Yeah?” He rasped, his hands now sliding down your sides to grab at your hips. “Did you wake up wet? Did you wake up wishing it was real? That I really had fucked you all night right up against those windows?”

“Yes.”

Seunghyun wasted no time in crashing his lips against yours, both his hands holding your face as he tilted your head. It took you by surprise, your eyes widening for a moment but the press of his soft lips against yours, the way his tongue traced along the seam of your lips, it felt too good. You melted against him, your eyes fluttering shut. When you started kissing him back, he took that as his sign to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue inside your mouth to tangle with yours. The way he kissed you knocked the air out of your lungs. It was so sensual, so deep like he was trying to devour you. It made you dizzy in the best way possible. Nobody had ever kissed you like this before.

Seunghyun’s hand’s moved down your arms and up under your shirt, lifting it up as he went. Momentarily, he tore himself from your lips, his breath heavy. You lifted your arms in the air so he could pull your shirt off. The second he did, he tossed it to the ground and his lips were back on yours. Maybe you were too lost in the moment to realise he had started to back you up towards the floor to ceiling glass windows that overlooked the Seoul skyline and river. It was only when your back hit the cool glass did you realise.

Your fingers deftly unbuttoned his pyjama top, sliding it off his shoulders. It wasn’t often anyone saw Seunghyun shirtless so you couldn’t help but rake your eyes over his toned chest. He had always been insecure, never wanting to show skin but looking at him now, you thought he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen. You slid your hands up his chest, sending a shiver down his spine. When your arms found their place around his neck, Seunghyun leaned forward, pressing kisses along your collarbone and up your neck. He focused on your pulse point, nipping at the skin causing you to let out a whimper. The sound shot straight to his groin, his cock already half hard just from kissing you and the noises you were making. It had been so long since he’d been intimate with anyone like this.

You slid your hand into the waistband of his pants, palming him through his boxers. Seunghyun hissed, bucking his hips into you. One of his hands slid up to your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple. The pleasure that shot through you caused you to gasp. He really knew what he was doing. He ducked his head down, taking your other nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the hardening bud, suckling down and pulling off it with a pop. With hooded eyes, he looked up at you. “What else? What else happened in the dream?”

It was hard to focus with the way his hands were roaming your body, the way his cock throbbed in your hand through the fabric of his boxers. The anticipation was killing you, it was tortuous. You needed to feel him. Properly. So, you slipped your hands into his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his thick length. “I touched you just like this. Then, I dropped to my knees…”

Seunghyun groaned, tangling his hands into your hair and pushed your head down towards his crotch. “What are you waiting for then? Get on your knees and suck my dick like you mean it.”

You sank down to your knees with the help of Seunghyun pushing you down. Once settled, you tugged his pants and boxers off in one fell swoop, his cock springing free, hard and leaking pre-cum. Once again, you wrapped your hands around him, stroking him from tip to base. His eyes glazed over, watching you as your tongue darted out to swirl around the tip of his cock. It took all of his power to not thrust himself into your mouth right then and there. As your mouth enveloped his cock, your tongue flattening out on the underside of him, he couldn’t hold back any longer. His hands fisted in your hair, holding you in place as he thrust his hips into your mouth. He hit the back of your throat with every thrust, drawing his hips back out then slamming back in.

“That’s it, baby. Take it like the dirty girl you are. You love this, don’t you? Love having me in your mouth, fucking your face,” he grunted, his voice a deep, filthy rasp.

Your hands flew up to grip his legs, having something to hold onto as he took his own pleasure from you. Your eyes watered, drool dropping from the corners of your mouth. You were almost certain he was about to come when he abruptly pulled back, hoisting you to your feet. He wasted no time at all in ridding you of your remaining clothes. His fingers dipped between your thighs, sliding through your folds. “You’re so wet, so ready for me.”

“Please, Seunghyun. I need you,” you panted.

He hoisted your leg up, wrapping it around his waist. The broad head of his cock nudged against your entrance and, with one hard thrust, he pushed into you. Both of you moaned at the feeling of finally being joined. Seunghyun didn’t waste time, pulling his hips back and thrusting back into you hard and fast. Your back pressed against the glass, hands scrambling for purchase on his shoulders. It felt so damn good, so much better than the dream. His lips crashed into yours in a rushed kiss, swallowing your cries.

“You’re so tight, so fucking good,” Seunghyun said against your lips. His hands dug into the flesh of your ass, pulling you into him with each thrust. “This is what you’ve been craving, isn’t it? Someone to fuck you hard and fast, someone to completely ruin you.”

As he spoke, one of his hands moved to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. The sensation of his cock driving into you with reckless abandon and his hand wrapped around your throat was overwhelming in the best way possible. This was, without a doubt, the best sex you’d ever had in your life.

“Oh my God, Seunghyun. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. I’m so close.”

“I love it when you moan my name. Say it again.”

He angled his hips, hitting that spot deep within you that made you see stars. A loud, high pitched moan spilled from your lips. “Seunghyun!”

Your fingernails dug into his shoulders, your hips meeting his thrust for thurst, your release was right there. You were on the edge, ready to fall over any second now. Seunghyun could sense it, he could feel the way your walls were tightening around him. “Let go. Come for me. Give it to me. Now.”

The grip on your throat tightened just a little – not enough to hurt you, only to add to the intense pleasure he was giving you. You couldn’t take it anymore. Finally, your orgasm washed over you, your body shaking as he continued to pound into you. The way you screamed his name was too much for him and with one more hard thrust, he stilled inside you, spilling himself into you with a moan of his own. His head was buried in the crook of your neck, his breath coming out in short, sharp pants. The silence lingered, the only sounds were your laboured breaths as you both came down from your highs.

Finally, he pulled his head back to look at you. “Live up to the dream?”

“Even better,” you laughed in disbelief. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you looked at him – a smug grin plastered on his face.

“Good… because now it’s time we act out one of my dreams.” He pulled your other leg up to wrap around him, grabbing the back of your thighs so he could carry you. With a fierce determination, he started to make his way towards his bedroom.

“You’ve had dreams?”

“Don’t even start,” he playfully rolled his eyes, silencing you with a kiss. You knew there’d have to be a conversation, that the friendship would be forever changed now but that could wait until after round two.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @loveesiren @justsisse @sherrayyyyy @aizshallnotbefound @fleabagspurplewife @gemzyy @bettelaboure @gdinthehouseee @breakmeoff @babyrvis @flymetothexmoon @forevervibezzzz1 @ttturnitup @szonyix6277 @riddlerloveb0t @youlikeex @septywitch @melanatedhorrorqueen @l5byrinth @tabibabib @moontabi @loonybunn

[freakmcnastyy]

Almost

Kang Woo-young x f!reader (fluff) Pt.1

Summary: After school ends, reader spots Woo-young in the gym and tries to sneak up on him. After one accidental punch to the gut, things get heated. They get close… but not close enough!

-> Pt.1 / Pt.2

⸻

The class had just ended. The halls were still buzzing with voices, shoes squeaking against the floors, laughter bouncing off the lockers. But your mind? Your mind was stuck on one thing: Kang Woo-young.

You hadn’t heard from him in four periods. The guy who usually texted back before you could even lock your phone had suddenly gone ghost. As your eyes drifted out the classroom window, your feet started moving on their own, toward the gym.

That was his place. His little hideout when the world got too loud. When people got too close. A spot that reeked of sweat, leather, and something raw. And yeah he always found himself again between punching bags and chalky mats. The minute you cracked the door open, the sound thump thump confirmed it.

There he was.

Back to you, black gloves on, earbuds in. He was going at the punching bag like it had insulted his mother. Every hit echoed through the empty gym. His sweat dripped down his temples, making his dark hair cling to his forehead. Muscles flexed under his rolled-up sleeves, arms taut, veins visible. His back moved with every breath, every blow.

No one else was in there. You smiled.

Your plan? Easy.

Sneak up.

Go “Boo!”

Laugh. Maybe get him to smile for once.

But in Woo-young’s world, nothing was that easy.

You were just a few steps away when his body snapped toward you. You didn’t even get to lock eyes.

SMACK.

A punch, landed right in your stomach. The air flew out of your lungs. The world tilted, your knees buckled and boom! floor. His face shifted instantly. Panic. Earbuds out. Gloves dropped. He kneeled next to you in seconds.

“Shit- are you okay?” he whispered.

One hand on your waist, the other brushing your hair back. His fingers were shaking.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice cracking, “you know I zone out when I’m boxing. Why the hell would you try to scare me?” His eyes scanned your face like he was making sure you were still breathing. Then his arm slid around you, lifting you up so gently it hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said into your hair, voice barely there. And he meant it.

⸻

He sat you down at the edge of the mat like you were glass.

Then, without a word, he walked over to the supply cabinet. After a minute of digging, he came back with a pair of boxing gloves. They looked a little worn but solid. He knelt in front of you again and held them out.

“Wanna try?” Low voice. Warm eyes.

You raised a brow. “You just knocked me flat, and now you want me to box?”

He smirked. “Exactly. Gotta teach you how to hit back. In case someone ever tries to mess with you.” Which, let’s be real, he’d never let happen. This was just an excuse to stay near you.

You met his gaze, then lowered your eyes, slipping your hands into the gloves. He helped you, tightened the straps, adjusted the fit. Then he stood up, moved to the bag, and tapped a spot on it.

“Hit right here. But first your stance.” He came back to you. Hands on your shoulders, adjusting you gently. Then he glanced down at your feet.

“Left foot forward… yeah, like that. Right foot slightly back. Keep your balance centered.” He pressed your knees softly to bend them. The touch was serious, but soft. 

“Hands up,” he said, raising his own as a guide. “Protect your face. Don’t flare your elbows.” You lifted your arms, a little unsure. He frowned and reached forward, placing his gloved hands over yours.

“Like this… Not too tense. Not limp either.” Then he stepped back and winked. You took a breath and threw your first punch. It was… okay. Kinda weak. He nodded.

“Not bad. But you gotta use your body, not just your arm.” He came around to your side again, placing his hand on your waist.

“Power comes from the hips. Push off your back foot. Try again.” You did. This time, the bag moved more. His eyes lit up.

“That’s it! One more.”

And another.

And another.

He coached you through each one, his hands on your shoulders, your back, whispering when to breathe, how to move. Eventually, you started flowing with it. You were getting the hang of it. Then he stepped in front of the bag. The air shifted.

⸻

Now the punching bag was pushed aside. Woo-young’s eyes locked on you. Sharp, playful, intense.

“What do you say?” he said, tilting his head. “Wanna go a round, babe?”

You grinned. Nodded. Challenge accepted. You both squared off in the center of the mat. Breaths steady, muscles ready.

You threw the first punch, left jab. He dodged with ease. Then came your right hook. He stepped back, then lunged forward again. His eyes never left your hands.

There was space between you.

Three steps.

Four.

Then none.

He moved fast.

One second, you were upright. The next, he swept you down gently but firmly. You hit the mat with a thud.

Before you could blink, he was straddling you. Not putting weight on you, just hovering close. Too close. Your breath hitched. Eyes locked.

He didn’t move.

He stayed like that. For too long. A smirk on his lips, but his eyes said something else. Something serious.

Slowly, he pulled off one glove. The sound of leather peeling against his skin echoed in the quiet. Then his bare hand reached for your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin. Warm. Real.

When his palm cradled your face, time stopped.

He leaned in.

Slow.

So damn slow.

You felt his breath mix with yours. His nose brushed against yours.

Almost-

But he pulled back.

You blinked.

Frustration bubbled in your chest.

He stood up like nothing happened and reached out a hand.

“Come on,” he said, back to his usual casual tone. “I’m starving. Let’s go.” You were still on the mat, cheeks flushed, breathing uneven. Whatever was between you two, it was driving you insane.

And you kinda loved it.

[xoxolaw]

Haii i really love your geum seongje ficss! and yeah to a point you might get tired of writing himm. I hope you did well on your exams or if it hasn’t started I wish you luck!!

Maybe a Baku ficcc with angst but a fluffy endingg ^^

- 🦕

+ WHEN YOU SMILE AGAIN

in which Baku tries to do everything he can, just to make her smile again.

Park Hu-min (Baku) x reader

angst, fluff

It started with the silence.

Not the kind that settles during class or in the library. This one was different—heavier. It followed her everywhere. It replaced her laughter, smothered her warmth, and made her eyes look like they belonged to someone much older.

Baku didn’t get it at first. He’d walked into class, plopped down beside her, and flicked the back of her head like usual.

No reaction.

He cracked a loud joke, half-shouting it across the room. A few guys laughed. She didn’t.

She just stared at her textbook like it owed her money and she planned on collecting with interest.

“Hey,” he whispered the next day, sliding a juice box her way. “Smile tax.”

She blinked.

Nothing.

It only hit him a few days later—after she stopped showing up to lunch altogether—that something was seriously wrong.

When he found out her brother had died, it made sense. And that pissed him off. Not at her. Never at her.

But at the world for breaking people like that and expecting them to keep walking around like they weren’t bleeding inside.

---

“I’m not good at this emotional crap,” Baku grumbled, sitting cross-legged in front of her door a week later, holding a paper bag in one hand and a crumpled apology note in the other. “But I brought dumplings. And this note. And also myself, which I’m told is a blessing.”

No answer.

He looked up at the sky and sighed. “If you don’t open this door in ten seconds, I’m gonna start singing that trot song you hate.”

Still no answer.

“Ten—nine—eight—”

The door cracked open.

She looked tired. Hollow.

But her arms crossed, her brow lifted. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would,” he grinned, triumphant. “And I practiced the dance, too.”

---

It became a routine.

He showed up every few days. Sometimes with food. Sometimes with dumb gifts like a rubber duck in a graduation cap or a plushie shaped like a punching glove. Sometimes with just himself—loud, obnoxious, painfully honest.

“You look like a sad onion today,” he told her once, leaning back on the school bench, one leg tossed over the other.

“Wow. Thanks.”

“I’m just sayin’. You used to look like a spicy ramen girl. Now it’s all... steamed cabbage energy.”

Her laugh was short. A puff of breath.

But it was there.

He lived for those.

---

The day everything cracked was a rainy Thursday. He found her alone in the school stairwell, clutching a notebook to her chest like it held something she couldn’t let go of.

“Wasn’t on the roof today,” he said gently, sliding down beside her. “Kinda messed up my whole ‘find-the-sad-girl’ scavenger hunt.”

She didn’t look at him.

“You ever feel like... you’re stuck in someone else’s bad dream?” she whispered.

His grin faded.

“I keep waking up thinking it didn’t happen. That he’s still here. That he’ll text me something stupid like ‘don’t forget your umbrella’ and then I check and—”

Her voice cracked. She bit down on her lip hard.

Baku didn’t say anything. Just leaned his shoulder against hers, solid and warm.

“You wanna know the dumbest thing?” she continued, voice shaking. “I feel guilty for laughing. For breathing. Like if I smile, I’m forgetting him.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Baku said, in the most serious tone he could muster:

“Well, damn. You’ve clearly never seen my face when I laugh. It’s ugly enough to bring people back from the dead out of sheer concern.”

She snorted—just a little.

He glanced sideways. “There it is.”

“There what?”

“A crack in the cabbage armor.”

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t move away.

He nudged her knee. “Look, I know I’m not deep or wise or whatever. But I’m strong enough to carry your sadness for a while if it’s getting too heavy.”

She looked at him then. Really looked.

Baku wasn’t pretending to be okay or trying to fix her. He was just there. Loud, ridiculous, dependable.

“I don’t want to forget him,” she whispered.

“You won’t,” he said, softer than she’d ever heard him. “But you don’t have to disappear with him either.”

She blinked rapidly, then let her head drop to his shoulder.

They stayed like that for a while. Rain tapping against the windows. His warmth anchoring her like gravity. And for the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel like she was drowning.

---

A week later, she walked into her class expecting nothing. Just another day, another seat by window where she could disappear quietly.

But there it was.

Taped to her desk was a folded piece of notebook paper with “DO NOT OPEN unless you are mentally prepared for greatness” scrawled across the front.

She opened it.

Inside was a 4-panel comic drawn in messy black pen, colored in with highlighter and (for some reason) ketchup smudges.

Panel 1: Stick-figure Baku, labeled “Local Muscle God,” bursts through a classroom door with fists in the air. Behind him, tiny stick classmates scream “AUGH IT’S HIM.” His speech bubble reads:

“I bring EMOTIONAL SUPPORT and QUESTIONABLE WISDOM.”

Panel 2: Stick-You is sitting under a raincloud, holding a “sad juice box” labeled regret flavor.

Baku throws a towel on her head and shouts:

“CRYING IS JUST SWEATING FROM THE EYES. STAY HYDRATED.”

Panel 3: Stick-You starts to smile faintly. The cloud shrinks.

Baku throws confetti, a juice box, and a rubber duck at her head yelling:

“SHE SMILED! ACTIVATE PARTY MODE.”

Panel 4: The final scene is drawn big, with fireworks, absurd sparkles, and two stick figures high-fiving under a banner that says:

“When You Smile, the World Gets 69% More Bearable. (Baku Did the Math.)”

In small writing at the bottom:

“P.S. You don’t have to be okay. Just don’t go quiet on me again, yeah? :)”

---

She laughed.

So hard and so suddenly she snorted—actually snorted—startling half the class.

And right on cue, Baku bolted upright from across the room, one foot on his chair like a war hero.

“WE GOT HER BACK!” he shouted. “SOMEONE PLAY THE NATIONAL ANTHEM!”

He tried to salute, lost his balance, and crashed to the floor with a loud thud.

Groans, giggles, a few panicked footsteps followed.

But she just kept laughing, holding the paper to her chest, heart stinging in a new way—warm and alive.

Because only Baku could make grief feel a little lighter with a stupid comic and a ketchup-smudged duck.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE + MASTERLIST

I am happy you liked the fics!! The exam went banger!! Let me know if you liked this!!

TAGLIST

@heesexual74 @j4sont0ddswife @jihooneyluv @l5byrinth @coolasiangal123 @inom17 @rebwwca @mizxuqii @tesiitodulce

[bakuhve]

hello! So far you have made really good post, and it made me think, what if you made one about bakugou x y/n, they JUST started making out and started this thing where after class and even the cafeteria hours they would go to the roof top and make out, and then come back to class and act like nothing ever happened. Also somtimes he would throw a paper and secretly desk her under the desk where they would meet up. 😍

it started with one kiss.

honestly, you don’t even remember what triggered it. something stupid in class, probably, like you calling him out under your breath and him daring you to say it up close. one second you were bickering in the hallway, and the next, his hand was gripping your jaw, his lips demanding against yours.

after that? yeah, it quickly became a habit.

after class, during lunch, any spare moment the both of you could steal, he’d slip a crumpled piece of paper onto your desk with one word:

“roof.”

no punctuation. just urgency.

you’d show up a few minutes later, heart pounding like it was your first time, only to be yanked behind the rooftop door and kissed like he hadn’t seen you in years.

hands tangled in hair, breaths short, uniform slightly rumpled. and then the bell would ring, and he’d pull away with a low and frustrated growl. you’d fix your tie. he’d fix his attitude.

by the time you were both back in the classroom, it was like nothing had happened. no one knew, not a soul.

except maybe mina, who kept side-eyeing bakugou’s flushed ears every time he walked back into the room with that barely disguised smirk.

sometimes he’d get bold. like leaning over during lessons and bump your knee under the desk. or toss you a note with nothing but a time and a smug little “tch.”

you played it cool, of course.

but every rooftop meeting only made the secret sweeter.

and every time he muttered, “you’re mine, y’know that?” against your lips, you’d nod like you didn’t already know.

[morcez]

IFHY

Synopsis: You are forced to work on a project with the man you hate the most, Satoru Gojo. Satoru is the campus fuck boy, but what happens when he tries to add you to his roster?

Content: College au, Fuckboy!Gojo x Nerd!Reader, Nanami Kento x Reader, rejection, mature, suggestive, Gojo is a huge asshole.

enemies to lovers. enemies to even bigger enemies.

wc: 2.4k

Satoru Gojo is the biggest asshole known on campus, the standard fuck boy. He’s a spoiled brat. You hated him. You hated him the same way oil hates water. You hate the way he’d get praised like a god for the bare minimum, you hated how he treated women like mating holes, you hated how damn fine he is. He wasn't fond of people like you either. Girls who don't throw themselves at him and much rather focus on their peace. Guys like him found quiet girls like you as homework answers or a checkpoint to brag about to their douchebag friends ‘Yeah dude, I fucked loser in me lang class.’ It makes you shiver thinking about how gross those types of guys are, and how pathetic you must be to let one in your pants. You’ve had very minimal interactions with Satoru. You weren’t his usual type, so why bother speaking to you?

It was a normal day for the most part. You sat in the back of your ethics class, the class you happened to share with Satoru. You’re not quite sure why he even takes this class, as if he’s ever thought critically a day in his life. He sits in the very front of class, likely to Kento's request. He sits with his two roommates, Suguru and Kento, who couldn’t be any more different from him. 

As class starts, the professor announces that there will be a project that must be worked on with a partner. Nothing out of the ordinary. You look around the class, seeking who you would partner up with. There weren't too many promising options. Maybe Nanami? You've partnered with him before in other classes. He’s probably the only one who’s on the intelligence level. You’re eyeing the handsome blonde so intensely that you don’t even notice Satoru standing in front of you.

“You got a thing for Kento?”

You jump at the sudden sound, then groan, realizing who it is.

“Ya’ know he’s way less classy than he displays himself to be.” He says, looking down at your seated frame.

“I was just going to ask to pair up with him,” you say quickly, hoping Satoru would just go away.

“He’s already partnered with Suguru.” Something in his blue eyes twinkled with mischief. Satoru and Suguru are two peas in a pod. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen one without the other.

“Why aren’t you paired with Suguru?” You ask with your eyebrows furrowed with confusion. 

“I’d much rather you be my partner.”

ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh. ewwwwwwwwwwwww. You aren't sure what game he’s playing, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him use you to win.

“No, thank you, Satoru.” You stare him straight in the eye. Expecting him to have a harsh reaction. But he stood there looking at you with the same smug smile on his face.

“Everyone else already has a partner,” he bites his lip to attempt to contain his giggle.

You look around the class to see everyone already seated with another person.

He won.

He begins to turn and walk away, a smug grin still on his face.

“I’ll see you soon, partner.”

It’s been two days since you were forced into being group partners with Satoru. You had Satoru Gojo blocked on all your social media; he had to get your number by begging Kento. Satoru insisted that you should come over and study because "libraries and cafes cause too much distraction." You smelt bullshit from a mile away, but school is too expensive to be fucking around with your grades, so you reluctantly agree.

You honestly contemplated ignoring him and the assignment altogether, but here you are, standing outside of his apartment door. You knock on the door a few times. Part of you hoped that he forgot so you could just go home. The door unlocks and opens carefully. You're greeted by Suguru, his sharp eyes stare at you for a minute before flashing a kind smile.

"Satoru, your partners here!" He yells before letting you in.

Their apartment is huge, it might as well be considered a house. The kitchen and living area are spacious and surprisingly clean. Their home is gorgeous; you couldn't help but compare it to your compact dorm. Both Satoru and Kento are seated on the coach. Satoru gets up once he notices your presence. Kento gives you a small smile and wave, then looks at Satoru in disgust. Satoru gives Kento a cheeky smile in response.

The air felt heavy, and you sensed there was some type of bickering occurring before you arrived. Too scared to say anything, it felt like you were standing on fragile glass.

"Let's get some privacy," He says, staring straight at Kento. He places a hand on the small of your back and guides you to his room. " I wouldn't want us to have any distractions."

Satorus' room is isolated from the rest of the home, standing at the end of a long and empty hallway. His room is actually decently decorated. Posters and Vinyls littered his walls. His desk set up was neat, with expensive gaming equipment, of course. There are flourishing plants decorating his windowsill. You wondered which girl he screwd helped him decorate. Soundproof foam plastered to his wall, you didn't want to think too hard about what he had it for.

You’re sitting in the Satoru Gojo's bedroom. He’s sitting on his bed, a huge textbook sprawled across his lap. You’re sitting at his desk, on his overly pricey gaming chair. You tried to create as much space as possible between you two. You didn't say a word, as if you hoped he’d forget you're there. Hold your breath; scared to breathe too loudly. The man releases a dramatic sigh, finally breaking the loud silence in the room. 

“Ya’ know, the whole point of being partners is to work together.” He says, slightly annoyed. You give a hum in response. You refuse to turn to look at him, opting to look at the words on the computer screen in front of you instead.

He lets out a scoff. “Why so far? Hm?”

You choke on air. You haven't entertained him whatsoever. Why is he trying? Is he that committed to being a whore?

“C’mere." He pats his navy blue sheets, the space next to him. This textbook is sooo confusing. I need your help.” 

You turn to face him. Greeted by a sinister grin. You knew it was a ploy to get you in his bed, but you weren't going to let this horny bastard ruin your grade. With a groan, you stand up from his comfortable gaming chair and make your way over to his bed. You sit as far as you can, while still being able to see the textbook lying on his lap. So not far. He scoots closer to you, closing the already small gap between you two.

“What were you confused about?” You say trying to steady your voice. 

He grabs your hand that's closest to him and drags it to the page, using your hand to point to the portion he was ‘confused’ about. Your breath hitches at the contact.

The nerve of this guy.

“Explain it to me? Please, Smarty?” His bright eyes lingered on you, as if he were not allowed to look away. You refuse to maintain eye contact any longer. Mumbling the explanation he asked for, as your nervous eyes try to find anything else to look at. He continues to look at you, intently and amused, as if your anxiousness was entertaining. His thumb lightly rubs over your hand sensually. 

“So much knowledge in that pretty head of yours.” He coos.

Is he allergic to reading the room? So damn sure that every woman that crosses his path wants to fuck him. 

You're angry. So damn annoyed. Who even is he?

You scoffed and aggressively retracted your hand from under his. You expected him to be angry, annoyed, or surprised. But when you look at him, he has confidence written all over his face. He closes the textbook and removes it from his lap. He turns his body to completely face you.

“Think you’re too good for me, smarty pants?” He teases.

You turn to face him completely.

He’s fucking unbelievable.

“I know I’m too good for you.” You state

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles, “What’s the ethics behind being a stubborn know-it-all?”

“Want to tell me what’s the ethics behind you being a dick for a brain whore?” You snap.

He has that flirtatious grin stapled on his face, as if he’s plotting something mischievous. Satoru places his hand on your knee, then slowly glides it up to your thigh. A chill shoots down your spine.

“Want me to show you instead?” 

His words make your stomach flip. His blue eyes make you freeze as if he were Medusa.

Your brain was yelling at you to go off. To scream at him. To hit him. To move his hand. But you didn’t stop him, and neither did you want to.

“You’re gross.” You mutter under your breath. Looking everywhere but at his face. Fearing that if you looked too long, you would've folded.

He chuckles amused. His hand travels up to the waistband of your pants.

“Sooo fucking disgusting.” He mocks

 He hooks his finger over your waistband, using it to tug you close to him.

Sitting face to face.

So close you can feel his breath. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear how fast your heart is pounding.

His hand plays with the elastic of your waistband a bit more like it’s a yo-yo toy. 

“You’re impossible.” You snark at him.

He laughs a bit, then lets go of your waistband. Letting the elastic slap your skin. You flinch at the impact.

“Is that so, smarty pants?” He asks with that filthy grin on his lips.

You give a small nod.

“real cute.” His hand slithers to grab your waist.

“I fucking hate you.” You say this, yet your actions are contradictory to your words. Your body is moving closer to him. Your arms move to rest on his shoulders. “I’m sure you do, sweetheart.” He lifts your hips and moves you closer to make you sit on his lap. You’re straddling the Satoru Gojo. His hands wander around your waist, your hips, and gives your ass some attention too.

“No, I mean it. I really do hate you.” Your hands once again betray your lips as you glide your hands over his muscular shoulders and pecs.

His hands slide underneath your shirt. You slightly jump at the sensation of his warm hands against your cold back.

“I hate how cocky you are, and how you think the whole world revolves around you. I hate how you think rules don’t apply to you…”

His eyes linger on you. The look on his face was unreadable. Was he getting upset? His hands grip on your waist slightly harsh, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your skin.

“I hate how you-“ suddenly his hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb landing on your lips. You finally shut up. He traces his thumb along your lips. He looks at you, engrossed in every single slight movement you make. 

“Well, I hate how you don’t know how to stop running that smart mouth of yours.”

He giggles at your silence.

“Hear that, smarty?” He pauses, referring to the silence. “Much better, right?”

You give him an annoyed glare, not daring to say another word. 

His other hand grips your hip securely. His glowing eyes glance down at your lips with a grin plastered on his.

He's ready to go in for a kiss. The move that solidifies his entry into any girl's pants. He's heard countless 'I would never sleep with him.'s Yet they all end up in his bed. Words couldn't express his excitement to finally add your name to the long list of bedbugs. He didn't care that Kento was upset about his little bet with Suguru to get in your pants. All that mattered was that you're exactly where he wanted you to be. He leans closer to you as he pulls you in. He closes his eyes. He’d never have thought he’d be this close to you, feeling your fluttering breath on your face. He hasn’t even kissed you yet, and he’s already enjoying himself way more than he expected, way more than he should.

So very close to the two of y’all’s lips meeting, when suddenly he feels pressure to his forehead pushing him back.

Did you just push him?

Did you just reject him?

He lies back, his elbows holding his upper body up. He looks at you with confusion. His big blue eyes look up at you for answers, just to see you grinning. Satoru looks like a big, sad puppy.

He quickly sits up to be on the same level as you. His hands grip your hips tightly.

“C’mon, pretty girl.” He whines. He fucking whines. His eyes look at you desperately. 

“Real cute.” You mock.

He looks at you as if you’re pure evil. How could you be so cruel, and look beautiful doing it?

“Don’t look so mad." You coo, "I was trying to tell you all the reasons I hated you, but you didn’t want to listen.”

He glares at you, and all the admiration in his eyes is gone.

“You’re such a fucking smart ass.” He barks.

You giggle with amusement.“You’re just mad I didn't get your cock wet.”

 He rolls his eyes at your words. 

“I should get going.” You sing with a sweet smile on your face, in contrast to Satoru’s sharp grimace. You give his shoulders two friendly taps before getting off his lap. His hands loosen their grip on your hips. It was weird. Even though he was seething with frustration, he didn’t want to let you go. He felt despair wash over his body once you were out of reach.

You make your way to his bedroom door, giving him a simple “See you around, Satoru.” Before walking out.

 

Soon after you left, Suguru and Kento went to Satoru's room, finding him lying on his bed, defeated. His hands covered his ashamed face.

Geto leans on the doorframe of Satoru's room. "Never thought you'd finish so fast." Geto calls out to him mockingly.

"Shut up," Satoru mumbles into his hands. "She rejected me."

Kento lets out a loud sigh of relief, and a "thank god" slips from his lips. Suguru laughs loudly at the platinum's defeat. "Smart girl." He says in between chuckles.

"She's not even that smart."

lie.

"She's not cute either."

Another lie.

"I fucking hate her"

Loud incorrect buzzer.

dividers from @v6que

A/N: I haven't made a piece this long in forever, so please spare me. I might make a part 2, so lmk if you'd like to be tagged! Thank you for reading!

[echstacy00]

imperfect for you: yandere!heesung x bestfriend!reader

heeseung has always been your best friend. your safe space. the one person who’s always there. he’s sweet, considerate—perfect.

you’ve never questioned it. never questioned how he always seems to know when you’re upset before you even tell him. never questioned how he shows up right when you need him, as if he’s been watching from the shadows, waiting for the exact moment to step in.

because why would you?

heeseung’s kindness feels effortless. his attention, natural. it never occurs to you that his world revolves around you. that every little thing he does is calculated.

and it definitely never occurs to you that the people in your life—the ones who get too close, the ones who threaten to take you away from him—don’t just disappear.

they’re removed.

by him.

—

you first notice it with the little things.

like how the guy who had been flirting with you in class suddenly stops showing up. you don’t think much of it at first—people drop courses all the time, right?

but then it happens again. and again.

the girl you used to study with starts avoiding you, barely sparing you a glance when you greet her in the halls. your coworker at your part-time job, the one who always offered to walk you home, suddenly quits without warning.

it unsettles you, but you push it aside. coincidences happen. life moves on.

and heeseung is always there.

you tell him about it one night, frowning as you hug your knees to your chest. “it’s so weird. i don’t know why this keeps happening.”

heeseung hums, tilting his head. “maybe they were never meant to stay.” he shrugs

you sigh. “yeah… i guess.”

heeseung smiles—soft, reassuring. “don’t worry, princess. you still have me.”

and you do. you always do.

—

it’s not until you meet someone new that the pattern finally clicks.

he’s a friend of a friend. a nice guy. someone who makes you laugh, who listens when you talk, who—for the first time in a long time—makes you feel like you have someone outside of heeseung.

you tell heeseung about him one evening, your voice light with excitement. you don’t notice how his jaw clenches, how his grip on his phone tightens as he listens.

you don’t notice the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

and you definitely don’t notice the way that new friend—the one you actually liked—stops responding to your texts the next day.

at first, you assume he’s just busy. maybe he lost his phone. maybe it’s nothing.

but then the messages stop delivering altogether.

calls go straight to voicemail. his usual spot in the library stays empty.

it’s only when you hear the rumors—whispers of an accident, of someone being attacked in the alley behind campus—that your stomach twists.

your fingers shake as you call heeseung, the unease creeping into your chest.

“hee… you don’t think—”

“he’ll be fine,” heeseung interrupts smoothly. “don’t worry about him.”

you swallow. “but—”

“i said,” his voice is soft, too soft, “don’t worry about him.”

silence.

and then—

“you don’t need anyone else, princess.”

a chill runs down your spine.

for the first time, you realize—

maybe the reason everyone keeps leaving…

is because heeseung never lets them stay.

—

but still, even as the pieces start to fall into place, heeseung remains the same.

soft-spoken. attentive. always smiling just for you.

because you are his entire world. his purpose. his reason for existing.

and no one—no one—will ever take you away from him.

not your friends. not your family.

not even you.

because heeseung will never let you go.

no matter what.

please do not motify my works.

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