#getting drunk in the wilderness

[introspectivememories]

thinking bout 14yr finnick winning the games and thinking about the victors+effie looking at this child and going "fuuuuck!!! guess we're co-parenting now"

[webism]

"and whenever you smile at me, i promise to smile back."

it was a stupid vow, but one you made to satoru at the altar regardless. he had tears in his blue eyes and his lips were quivering and in the moment you really meant it, but god can he be an asshole.

like when he's denying you an orgasm. and he has you on your back, legs parted and hips rocking up against his tongue as he makes out with your pussy like he's on death row. he knows you on a molecular level, every inching indicator of your coming orgasm, and as soon as you give yourself away he's pulling back and wiping his lips while you groan because this is the third time this week.

and when he looks down at you with those puppy dog eyes and flashes you the biggest grin he can manage, you want to flip him off and make him sleep on the couch. you nearly do.

"you made a vow to me, baby," he tsks. "cmon, let me see that pretty smile of yours."

you turn your lips up, just enough to hold true to your vow. "id smile more if you let me cum."

"wrong," satoru shrugs, "you look like this—" he parts his lips and rolls his eyes back dramatically "—when you cum."

"fuck you," you look away, but his hand is quick to shoot out and turn your gaze back onto him. he's pulling his hard cock from his sweats and tapping the tip against your clit a few times before sighing.

"i'm going to, bossy."

and he pushes into you with a sick pace that has you feeling each hard inch of him. you'll never get used to it, to the way he stretches you out and sends you dizzy with just his cock.

"you look dick drunk already," he grins, you shoot him a sarcastic smile in turn.

you grab his bulging bicep with your left hand, the ring on your finger cool against his warm skin. it makes his hips stutter, having you claimed by him in more than one way: with the heavy rock he put on your finger and with his aching cock deep inside of you.

you know what he's going to do, try and edge you again and again until you go stupid on his cock and finally beg. but the way he reacts to just your wedding ring alone gives you a sick idea. you're still hot from him eating you out—it won't take much to push you over the edge.

"my toru," you hum, and smile a little as you feel his pace increase. "how'd i end up with such a pretty husband?"

he shakes his head, white locks falling into his eyes. "stop, i know what you're—"

"marrying you was the best decision of my life, baby," you continue, and bring your ringed hand up to hold the side of his face. his hips buck into you a little faster, a little wilder. "but i want you to fuck me like you did on our wedding night. till i was nauseous with how deep you were inside me. really made me yours, huh baby?"

that's all it takes. he's cutting off your intake of breath with a kiss and sustaining you on his essence alone. his cock splits you open at depths you think shouldn't be possible, and with each mean thrust of his hips into yours the headboard hits the wall in rhythmic mirror of your lusts.

and satoru chides himself: he thought denying you would be fun, a cheeky way to rile you up and get you begging for just the tip if its all he'd gift you with. but he's your husband, your other half: you aren't whole without him and he's empty when not filling you. he fucks you hard and quick and mean but with so much love you'd swear it was your wedding night all over.

and when you finally think you're going to cum, satoru encourages you with quick circles over your clit and the sweetest of praise from his lips. he loves you, he loves everything about you, there's no stronger aphrodisiac than your pleasure.

you cum hard around his cock and milk an orgasm out of him in turn. he fills you, claims you as his all over, and moans symphonies as he does so. your chest heaves, breath lost on you, and when he smiles down at you you're barely seeing straight enough to smile back.

he leans down to kiss you, a hungry kiss. "gonna fuck you so dumb and see if you still remember making that vow, okay baby?"

[rafeandonlyrafe]

only you, always

words: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, cheating, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex

you would never admit it out loud to anyone, but a twisted part of you likes when rafe cheats on you. its a dark truth, one you wrestle with every time it happens.

it's always when he's blackout drunk or high at a party, usually a combination of both. it's often when you're fighting or on a “break”. like last week, when your blowout argument ended with rafe slamming the door behind him and stomping out into the night. you were quick to hear that he made out with some girl at kelce's party. the pain lasted until the next day when he showed up back home, disheveled and tear-streaked, clutching a bouquet of flowers.

“i fucked up.” he croaked. 

you just stared at him until he fell to his knees, blue eyes rimmed with red as he pressed his forehead against your stomach. “please don’t leave me. i can’t lose you.”

the cheating hurts you every time, but rafe coming back crawling and crying, begging your forgiveness and worshiping you for the next few weeks always makes up for it.

“hi beautiful.” rafe kisses at your cheeks, a week having passed from your fight and his infidelity, the tension replaced with the warmth of his lips against your skin. 

“hey.” you smile, running your fingers over his face, stubble gracing his cheeks as he hasn't shaved for the last couple days, preferring to spend every waking moment with you instead as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

“i love you so much.” rafe leans in and kisses the tip of your nose this time, then your forehead, before dropping down to your lips.

“i don't deserve you.” rafe whispers before kissing you again.

“you probably don't.” you giggle, rolling on the bed so you're fully on top, pinning him beneath you. 

“i said i was sorry.” rafe pouts.

“and i forgave you.” you shake your head, your voice gentle but firm, realizing you probably shouldn't make fun of the situation, but humor feels safer than vulnerability.

“it won't happen again.” rafe says. it always does, yet he always promises it won't. maybe as you both grow older and more mature, both stop drinking and fighting so much, it will really be over, breaking the cycle. at least this time it was just kissing some random girl instead of sleeping with her.

you knew what you were getting into when you began dating rafe. he came with a wild reputation and an even wilder past. practically everyone in your friend group had a one night stand with rafe, but you didn't mind, because he chose to come back to you, not anyone else.

“what are you thinking about baby?” rafe asks, watching the emotions flicker over your face.

“just how good of a boyfriend you can be.” you answer with a small smile. 

“yeah?” rafe smirks, his head tilting to the side as a mischievous look flashes over his eyes. “do you want me to show you just how good of a boyfriend or do you want breakfast first?”

“you first.” you say quickly. “and then bacon and eggs.”

“scrambled or sunny side up?”

“scrambled of course.”

rafe grin grows, hands moving against your bare skin. “just like im about to scramble your-”

“allllright.” you cut him off before he can finish his joke, laughing as you roll off of him.

“no come back.” he pouts, pulling you back against his body, molding his chest to your back as he spoons you.

“you're so ridiculous.” you chuff, though your voice betrays the affection simmering beneath the surface.

“ridiculously in love with you.” rafe counters, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. he just had you last night, but he's already craving you again, missing the feeling of your bodies pressed together in the most intimate way.

“you're extra corny this morning.” you hum out.

“sorry.” rafe chuckles. you love that he's only like this around you, and only when he's just cheated. he turns into a dopey lovesick puppy until the need for your forgiveness and guilt wears off and he's back to his normal self.

rafe places his hand on your stomach, circling around your soft skin, each movement sweeping lower every time, deliberate and teasing.

“rafe.” you whine, eyes shutting as he begins to dip into your underwear with every gesture. 

“mhm.” rafe hums. as much as he likes to tease you, he wants to pleasure you more. his hand dips all the way into your underwear, fingertips coming to your clit.

he knows your body so well, exactly what to do to drive you crazy, every touch sending electricity through your body. his strokes over your clit are gentle, occasionally purposely missing to rub lower towards your entrance, like he's teasing where he's going to be later. it’s a dance you’ve done a hundred times before, but it never gets old.

“that feels so good.” you moan out, not even realizing that your eyes had fallen closed. rafe moves his other hand so it's under your body, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he sculpts himself around you, other hand cupping your chest.

“mmm.” you hum, feeling rafes hardness pressing against your bum as his fingers stop teasing your clit, rubbing intensely now with the purpose of getting you wet and open.

“oh, baby.” rafe moans as you reach behind your back, hand cupping over his underwear, squeezing at his length through the fabric.

“fuck me. please.” you begin to move your hips, grinding yourself against his hand.

“be patient.” he tsks, fingers pinching at your nipple before going back to cupping your breast.

“unfair.” you pout, but decide two can play at that game, bringing your hand underneath his waistband to stroke up and down his cock.

you can't see rafes face, but you're sure his expression just shifted to one of pleasure.

his hand delves further between your legs, finger circling around your entrance only once before pushing into your cunt, making you moan loudly.

“fuck yes.” you rock your hips again, this time back against rafes crotch, your hand still moving up and down his cock.

“god, i can barely wait.” rafe groans, finger moving faster inside of you, building you up as quickly as he can.

“stop waiting then.” you move your hand, turning onto your back, rafes hand maneuvering to still fuck into you. “come on, rafey.”

you know once he sees your pout he can't resist, not when he's still making things up to you.

“god, that face kills me.” he presses a quick kiss against your lips before moving, pulling your underwear down and flinging them off the bed before disrobing himself.

you grin as rafe doesn't even bother to ask how you want him, instantly lying himself over top of you and lining up his cock with your entrance.

“i love you.” you press a kiss against rafes cheek as your arms loop around his shoulders.

“i love you.” rafe echos back, connecting your lips that quickly develop into moans as he pushes inside of you, engulfing his cock in your heat.

rafe knows he doesn’t need to give you time, already used to his cock being sheathed inside of you. he begins to swing his hips in an even rhythm.

your fingertips dig into his shoulders, pressing into his tanned skin.

“nobody even gets close to you.” rafe groans as you tighten your cunt around him every time he pulls out to thrust back in.

“its only you.” rafe continues as he drops one hand between your bodies, placing his thumb against your clit as he rubs to the rhythm of his thrusts. “only you.”

you can't help that smile that stretches across your face. you don't give a shit if it's only you, as long as he continues to fuck you like this and treat you like a queen.

“faster, rafe.” you pull his chest tighter against yours, your nipples pressing against his skin, stimulating them with his every movement as he speeds up.

“c-close.” you whine.

“me too.” rafe grunts in agreement. “gonna cum in you, yeah?”

“yes.” you nod rapidly. “yes, please, please, please, rafe.”

your head is swirling with the overwhelming pleasure as rafes thumb presses against your clit just as his cock is thrust deep inside of you. it's enough to throw you over the edge, back arching up into rafe as you moan loudly, legs shaking as you feel him lose it to, his moans loud in your ear as he pumps into you.

“fuck, b-baby, y/n.” rafe groans as he finishes, making sure you get every last drop inside of you.

rafe drops himself to the side of you, the mattress bouncing as you both become slack against the sheets, hearts beating fast and chest rising and falling rapidly.

“i really do love you baby.” rafe says, his voice soft and slightly hoarse. “im sorry i always fuck things up.”

“you don't, though.” you move so you're resting against rafes chest, snuggled against his side. “you make mistakes but you always come back and make it right, that's all i ask for.”

you hear rafe sniffle and you know he's holding back tears, always extra emotional after a reconciliation, as if hes purging himself from the guilt.

“ill go make you some breakfast now if you wanna get dressed.” rafe slides quickly off the bed, keeping his back to you as he pulls his underwear back on.

“why would i get dressed if i want you to fuck me again after breakfast?” you tease, your lip quirking up.

you see rafes hand raise to his face, and you know he's wiping at his cheeks, but you give him time to collect himself, secretly happy only you can make him act like this.

“alright.” rafe turns around, his eyes still glossy but filled with adoration as he bends down to press a kiss to your forehead. “bacon and scrambled eggs and then ill fuck you on the table, then in the shower, then ill take you shopping and fuck you in the dressing room.”

“perfect.” you grin.

[shy9-29]

Where The Waves Rest 🌊 l.hs

"Love isnt about the rush-it's about the quiet moments that make you stay"

日 - 이희승 x y/n

♫ synopsis: Heeseung, a reckless city boy, moves to quiet Busan and meets you-kind and selfless. What begins as annoyance turns into something deeper, and he realizes Busan isn't just a place but where he finds something real with you ~ wc. 29.9k ✉️ warning: fingering, swearing, bullying, mentions of drinking, partying, hooking up, cumming inside, oral f recieve, kiss, name calling, begging, Seoul and Busan are not actually like what is described in the story.

mdni · smut · proofread · masterlist

Heeseung was never one to stick to plans—especially when they didn’t suit him. At 23, spoiled and used to getting his way, he had fully intended to meet his family that evening. But as the night went on, the thought slipped further from his mind, drowned out by the buzz of alcohol and the thrill of the moment.

One drink turned into two, then three, and before he knew it, he was inviting friends over. What was supposed to be a quiet night quickly spiraled into a full-blown party. Music blasted through the apartment, laughter echoed off the walls, and people—some familiar, some not—kept piling in. A few girls arrived too, making the atmosphere even wilder.

His family? They’d get over it. They always did. Right now, all Heeseung cared about was keeping the night going.

“Fuck, feels so good,” Heeseung groaned softly, sprawled out on the couch as one of his hook ups grinds slowly on his hardening member. The sounds of partying and laugher fill the room. The girl throws her head back as she grips onto Heeseung’s shoulders tightly, quickening the pace.

He was so drunk right now as he leaned his head back, placing it on the couch as he looked at everyone dancing or making out in his apartment. He was sitting on the couch, eyes lazily looking at everyone and everything. His eyes were half-lidded, his cheeks was flushed, his lips was dry and chapped from drinking. He was sitting there, a girl on his lap, and his eyes caught a girl sitting somewhere far away.

The girl on his lap leaned in, pressing her lips against his. Heeseung didn’t hesitate to kiss her back, his eyes slipping shut as his movements grew rougher. His grip tightened around her waist, adjusting her position on his lap as he deepened the kiss.

“So, what’s your name?” she asked with a smirk, tilting her head to press soft kisses against Heeseung’s neck. He shivered slightly, feeling her warm breath ghost over his skin. His hands was on her thighs, his head was tilted to the side as he waited for her response. His eyes were dark as he looked at her, studying her from head to toe, focusing on her face.

But before she could answer, the door suddenly swung open, and Heeseung’s parents walked in. He froze. Shoot, he completely forgot.

His parents had known about his issues before, but they thought he had gotten over it. At least, that’s what he’d told them. The tension in the room thickened as they stood there, eyes widening in disbelief.

Heeseung’s heart sank as his parents stepped into the room, their faces a mix of shock and disbelief. His mother’s eyes widened, her disappointment cutting deeper than anything he’d ever felt. His father’s jaw clenched, his usually calm demeanor completely shattered as he took in the scene before him. They had been waiting for this moment—hoping for a sign of change, a chance to reconnect. But this? This wasn’t what they expected.

“You…” His mother’s voice trembled, and she couldn’t finish the sentence. Her eyes flickered between Heeseung’s face, the girl beside him, and then back to him, as if trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

His father, usually the one to stay composed, stood at the door, glaring at Heeseung with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “You told us you were done with all this,” he said, his voice tight with frustration. “You promised, Heeseung. You promised.”

Heeseung remained silent, the weight of their words pressing down on him. His mind raced. He’d been hiding this for months—the late-night parties, the drinks, the temporary escapes, everything. They never knew. They didn’t see the darker side of him anymore—he’d kept it hidden, convincing them he’d changed. But now? There was no pretending.

His mother wiped away a tear, trying to hold herself together. “We thought you were trying to make something of yourself. But now… this?”

Heeseung’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles white. Anger surged through him, but beneath it, there was a deep, gnawing feeling of shame. They didn’t understand; they never did. They only saw the mask he wore.

“This has gone on long enough, Heeseung,” his father continued, his voice no longer calm. “We’ve decided. You’re going to Busan for the summer. To your grandmas.”

The words hit him like a slap to the face. Busan. The last place he wanted to go. It was everything Seoul wasn’t—quiet, peaceful, and far too simple. There was nothing to do but breathe clean air, to feel trapped in a place that lacked the chaos and freedom of the city. It was nothing like the fast-paced life he thrived in. No parties. No wild nights. Just silence and space. He couldn’t even imagine it.

“No,” Heeseung growled, his voice low with defiance. “I’m not going. I don’t need to—”

His father cut him off with a sharp look, his eyes cold and unwavering. “If you don’t go, you’ll lose everything, Heeseung. Everything. No more money, no more access. No more parties, no more friends. You want to keep living like this? Fine. But we won’t be a part of it. You’ll go to Busan, and you’ll stay there until this attitude of yours changes.”

The threat was clear, hanging in the air like a weight. Heeseung knew what it meant. Without their support, he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the reckless lifestyle he’d come to rely on. The parties, the clubs, the escape—it would all be gone.

His mind raced. He hated the thought of going to Busan, the last place he wanted to be. But what other choice did he have? His pride burned, but the reality of it all was undeniable. If he didn’t go, he’d lose everything.

“You can’t fucking do this to me,” Heeseung spat, but his voice lacked the force it needed. His eyes flicked to the girl sitting beside him, her presence a brief distraction from the storm of thoughts raging in his mind.

“You will go, Heeseung,” his mother said quietly, almost pleading. “We’re doing this because we love you. But if you keep going down this path, you’ll destroy yourself.”

Heeseung swallowed hard, the sting of their words hitting him in the chest. He didn’t know how to fight back. They had already made up their minds. Busan it was.

He felt trapped, his world closing in around him. He had no choice. The anger still bubbled inside him, but it was mixed with something darker—fear. Fear of losing everything. Fear of being stuck in a life he didn’t want.

He gritted his teeth. “Fine. I’ll go. But don’t expect me to change in that shit hole.”

As Heeseung’s words hung in the air, the entire room seemed to still, as if time itself had frozen. The girl sitting beside him, who had been so bold and confident moments before, suddenly seemed distant, her eyes flicking nervously toward the door where Heeseung’s parents stood. The music from the party had faded into the background, and the murmur of conversation turned to silence as everyone in the room, sensing the tension, fell still.

The laughter that had filled the room moments before seemed to vanish, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable quiet in its place. The glow of neon lights from the party didn’t seem so bright now. The laughter and the upbeat energy felt hollow, as if the very vibe of the room had shifted, the weight of Heeseung’s situation pressing down on everyone.

Some of the people near the back of the room exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether they should even breathe, while others stood frozen, unsure of what to do in the presence of such an awkward confrontation.

Heeseung could feel the eyes of everyone on him—eyes that had once looked up to him as the life of the party, the one who had everything under control. Now, those same eyes only saw a boy being torn apart by the reality he had tried to avoid for so long. The walls seemed to close in around him as the quiet stretched on, and even the pulsing beat of the music couldn’t seem to fill the silence that hung thick in the air.

His parents stood in the doorway, their disappointment palpable, as though they had pulled back the curtain to reveal the truth he had been hiding for so long. And now, it was too late. There was no escaping it.

The girl beside him had been a part of his world, the world he was about to lose, and she could sense it. Heeseung’s heart sank as he realized the gravity of the situation—not just with his parents, but with everyone else in that room.

The weight of their collective gaze pressed into him, and for a brief moment, Heeseung wondered if he was ready to face what was about to come.

Heeseung’s fist clenched involuntarily, his chest tightening with frustration as the room stayed locked in silence. The realization that everyone was watching him—their eyes filled with judgment, curiosity, or just plain discomfort—made him want to scream. Instead, he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. The sound snapped the spell of silence, but it didn’t seem to break the tension.

“Get out,” Heeseung’s voice was cold, his words cutting through the stillness like a knife. His gaze swept over the partygoers, most of whom looked caught off guard but didn’t dare to challenge him. He wasn’t in the mood to entertain anyone’s doubts or protests, and his patience was wearing thin. “I said, get out. Now.”

A few people hesitated, exchanging glances, but the commanding tone in Heeseung’s voice brooked no argument. Slowly, the guests started to shuffle toward the door, murmuring to one another as they gathered their coats, their drinks, and their things. The hum of the room was replaced by the soft shuffle of feet on the hardwood floor, the clinking of glass, and the quiet rustling of bags. Heeseung’s eyes remained fixed on the floor, not bothering to look up until the last person made their exit.

As the door clicked shut behind the final guest, the room felt eerily quiet. Heeseung ran a hand through his messy hair, a frustrated sigh slipping from his lips. His mind was buzzing—flooded with anger, guilt, and the overwhelming sense of dread.

He looked around the room, his eyes taking in the mess that had been left behind. Empty cups, spilled drinks, scattered confetti, half-eaten snacks, and crushed cigarette butts were strewn everywhere. The room had now had a grim sort of emptiness. His gaze lingered on the overturned bottle of liquor by the couch and the wine glass that had rolled to the far corner of the room. The remnants of the night felt like a mockery now—a reminder of everything he was about to lose.

With another heavy sigh, Heeseung stepped over the mess, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he made his way to the couch, sinking into the cushions. The weight of the situation pressed on him, heavier than the mess in the room. He ran his hand over his face, trying to force the thoughts away, but they only kept coming—his parents, the move to Busan, the future he didn’t want, the life he was being dragged away from.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was slipping through his fingers, one decision at a time. He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch something. But instead, he just sat there, surrounded by the remnants of his party, the remnants of a life he would never get back.

The sharp knock on Heeseung’s door tore through the hazy fog of sleep, his head throbbing in protest. His eyes fluttered open, the sunlight already streaming through the cracks in the curtains, searing into his skull like a punishment. He groaned, pressing his hands into his temples, trying to stave off the relentless throb. He wasn’t used to waking up this early—hell, he rarely woke up before noon—and certainly not with the pounding headache he had from last night’s excesses.

Another knock, louder this time.

“Heeseung, sir,” came the muffled voice of his butler, Mr. Song, from the other side of the door. “It’s seven o’clock. Your parents are waiting for you to pack. There’s an Uber waiting downstairs to take you to the airport.”

Heeseung groaned, his voice muffled as he rolled over in bed, throwing his pillow over his head in a vain attempt to block out the noise. The weight of last night’s events still hung heavy on him, his thoughts tangled in a chaotic mess. The last thing he wanted to do right now was get up, pack, and face the reality of his parents’ decision. He had expected some kind of pushback, maybe even a day or two of recovery time before the move—but no, they were already moving him out, right now.

“I told you, Mr. Song, it’s too early,” Heeseung muttered, his words slurred from the hangover. He rubbed his face, trying to fight off the dizziness that still clung to him. “Just… give me a few more hours.”

But there was no room for negotiation. The butler’s voice was firm, but still polite. “I’m afraid your parents insist, sir. The Uber is waiting.”

Heeseung swore under his breath. He felt the sharp sting of anger rise in his chest. His parents didn’t even care how he was feeling, how much of a mess he was right now. He wasn’t even sure how he’d function in an hour, let alone pack up his life and head to some backwater town in the middle of nowhere.

With a reluctant groan, Heeseung threw the covers off and staggered out of bed. His body felt stiff, sluggish, like it didn’t want to cooperate with him. The room was spinning as he tried to get dressed in a daze, throwing clothes into his bag without a second thought. Nothing mattered right now except getting out of here, away from this suffocating, overwhelming situation.

Twenty minutes later, Heeseung trudged down the stairs, bag slung over his shoulder, his eyes bloodshot, his hair sticking out in every direction, but still managing to look good. He made his way to the front door, where Mr. Song was waiting, looking as composed and unbothered as always. He didn’t say anything as Heeseung stepped outside into the crisp morning air. The Uber was parked at the curb, a sleek black car that seemed out of place for the mood Heeseung was in. The driver, a middle-aged man with a stoic expression, opened the door for him without a word, his butler following from behind with two of his suitcases.

Heeseung climbed in, slamming the door behind him with more force than necessary. The car pulled away from the curb, and the city—his city—began to fade into the distance. The towering buildings, the crowded streets, the hustle and bustle of Seoul—everything he knew and loved, all of it was being left behind. The thought made his stomach twist, but he couldn’t even bring himself to care. Not right now. Not when everything was already falling apart.

The drive to the airport felt like a blur, the streets empty and quiet at this hour. Heeseung stared out the window, watching the city he once called home disappear behind him, replaced by the distant skyline of skyscrapers, fading away into the horizon. He felt a gnawing emptiness, like something inside of him was already gone, a part of him left back in Seoul, in the chaos and the noise that now felt like a distant memory.

When the Uber finally pulled up at the airport, Heeseung felt like he was in a dream. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, or how much longer it would take before he had to face his new reality. The airport terminal was a blur of people, all rushing to their own destinations, while Heeseung just shuffled through the crowd like a ghost, disconnected from it all.

He was supposed to get on a plane to Busan, where his life was going to change completely. Where the quiet, peaceful life his parents envisioned for him awaited. The idea of it felt suffocating. He couldn’t even picture it. The thought of spending the whole summer there—maybe even longer—made him feel claustrophobic. What could he do in that boring, lifeless town? He couldn’t even begin to imagine how he was supposed to fill the endless quiet of Busan, how he would survive without the chaos of Seoul, without the distractions that had become his life.

As he settled into his seat on the plane, staring out the window as the plane began to taxi down the runway, Heeseung closed his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts swirling in his head. He was leaving everything behind. And for what? To be trapped in a quiet, peaceful town with nothing to do but reflect on everything he was about to lose.

The plane began to ascend into the sky, and Heeseung took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he gazed out at the receding city below. It was gone now, a tiny speck in the distance, and there was no turning back.

As the plane took off, Heeseung leaned back in his seat, feeling the uncomfortable, rigid fabric press against his back. The smell of recycled air mixed with the faint scent of his seat mate’s cologne—sickly sweet and too strong. His eyes flicked to the front of the cabin, where the luxurious first-class seats lay. He’d been accustomed to those kinds of perks, to having everything top-tier, handpicked, and ready to make his life as effortless and glamorous as possible. But today, he was stuffed into a cramped economy seat, barely any space to stretch his legs, wedged between an old man with a coughing fit and a younger guy who seemed to be enjoying the pleasure of his loud, sniffling nose.

It was a far cry from the private jets, the VIP sections, the smooth, uninterrupted flights he was used to. His parents, the ones who used to indulge him with every possible luxury, didn’t even bother to upgrade his seat. He was, to them, just another problem to deal with, a burden they were rushing to get rid of. In the past, they would’ve thrown money at him to make him happy, to give him everything he wanted, but now? Now they were treating him like a peasant, as if he was just some ordinary kid from a small town. He gritted his teeth, fuming silently.

The guy sitting next to him had already started hacking up a storm. Heeseung felt his eyes narrow in disgust as the man coughed loudly, barely covering his mouth. Every breath he took seemed to make Heeseung’s skin crawl, and he could feel his irritation growing with every second. The sickly-sweet cologne made it even worse, mixing with the heavy stench of the man’s apparent cold. Great. Just great. He was stuck with this guy for the next two and a half hours.

The flight felt endless, every minute dragging on as Heeseung fidgeted in his seat. The man next to him coughed again, and Heeseung subtly scooted away, as if trying to create some kind of imaginary barrier between them. His phone buzzed once, but he ignored it, not wanting to engage with anyone. His mind kept drifting back to the fact that he was heading to Busan. The more he thought about it, the more suffocating it felt. Everything he was leaving behind—the clubs, the late nights, the endless possibilities—was being replaced by what? Peace? Quiet? The thought made his stomach churn.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the plane began its descent. Heeseung glanced out the window, his eyes catching the sprawling landscape below. It looked nothing like Seoul—no towering buildings, no lights flashing in every direction. Just rolling hills and small, neat houses scattered across the land. He could already feel the weight of what was coming.

When the plane touched down, Heeseung could barely contain his frustration. He grabbed his bag from the overhead compartment and made his way off the plane with slow, deliberate steps. He had to act like he cared about this trip, like he was excited to be here. But deep down, the last thing he wanted was to spend any more time in this place.

As he entered the terminal, his eyes scanned the crowd, and then—there she was. His grandmother, standing with a bright smile and open arms. She looked so out of place here, in her modest clothes and welcoming demeanor. Heeseung’s stomach twisted slightly as she hurried toward him, arms outstretched, ready to envelop him in a hug. The kind of hug that always made him uncomfortable—too warm, too familiar.

“Heeseung!” she exclaimed, her voice full of joy. “It’s so good to see you, my dear!”

Heeseung couldn’t help but put on a forced smile as she wrapped him in a tight embrace, her arms squeezing him warmly. The smell of her lavender perfume mixed with the fresh air of the airport. It was so… homey, so real—everything that felt so distant and foreign to him now. He stiffened in her arms, allowing the hug to last just a moment longer than necessary before gently pulling away.

“Yeah, it’s great to be here, Grandma,” he said with a strained smile, trying to sound polite despite the frustration brewing underneath. He wasn’t going to let her see how annoyed he was. She was his grandmother, after all, and she was just doing what she thought was best for him. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

He saw the glimmer of joy in her eyes as she looked up at him, so full of hope, as if she hadn’t seen him in years, even though it had only been a few months. “I’ve already prepared your room and your favorite snacks.”

Heeseung gave a small nod, his mind already drifting to the dull, quiet life he was about to begin here. His thoughts raced as his grandmother continued talking, her voice filled with excitement about all the things she’d planned for him in the coming days. He nodded along, pretending to be interested as they made their way to the car. But every part of him just wanted to get this over with.

Busan wasn’t his world. It never had been. But for now, it was the one he was stuck in.

When they arrived at his grandmother’s house, Heeseung couldn’t help but notice how small and cozy everything was. The house, while neat and well-kept, had an old-fashioned charm—wooden floors, soft light filtering through the windows, and the faint scent of lavender that seemed to linger in every corner. It was everything Seoul wasn’t. Peaceful. Quiet. Incredibly… boring.

His grandmother smiled at him as she ushered him inside, immediately making him feel like a guest in a place he didn’t want to be. She moved around the small kitchen with ease, the sound of her soft footsteps on the wooden floor the only noise in the otherwise still house.

“Come, come, sit down. I made your favorite,” she said, her eyes twinkling as she placed a steaming bowl of ramen in front of him. Heeseung’s stomach growled at the sight, but his heart wasn’t in it. He knew his grandmother had made the effort, but he wasn’t ready to feel the warmth of her affection—not now, not in this place.

It was ramen, yes—his favorite—but it wasn’t the instant kind he usually devoured with a hangover back in Seoul. This was homemade, the broth rich and full of flavor, the noodles tender. Despite himself, Heeseung took a bite, the taste instantly familiar, but it did little to comfort him. Everything here felt too… simple. Too real.

“Thanks,” he muttered, not looking up from his bowl. He tried to force a smile, but it came out strained, as if he were pretending for the sake of politeness. He didn’t want to be here, but he couldn’t outright tell her that. She was doing her best, after all.

His grandmother sat down beside him, her hands folded neatly in her lap, watching him with gentle eyes. “You’ve been through so much, my dear. It must be hard, coming all the way here,” she said softly. Heeseung didn’t respond immediately, focusing on his ramen as if it would somehow distract him from the discomfort growing in his chest.

After a few moments of silence, she stood up. “I’m going to prepare dinner for later, but I seem to have run out of a few things. The fridge is a bit empty. Would you mind going to the market to pick up some fruits and vegetables for me?” she asked, her voice gentle, almost apologetic.

Heeseung froze. A few seconds passed before he even looked up at her, blinking as though he’d misheard. “What?” he asked, his tone a bit sharper than he intended.

His grandmother looked at him, slightly confused but still polite. “I just need some basics, fruits and vegetables, you know. It’s just a few minutes’ walk. Would you mind?”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched. A few minutes’ walk? He wasn’t used to walking anywhere, let alone doing errands. Back in Seoul, he had people to do this for him. His assistant, his driver, even his personal shopper—someone always took care of these small tasks. The idea of having to walk down the street to a market, something so… normal, felt beneath him. His fingers tightened around the bowl, his thoughts running wild.

“You want me to go… get groceries?” His voice had a bite to it now, but his grandmother didn’t seem to notice the irritation creeping in. She simply smiled warmly and nodded.

“Yes, just a few things. I’m sorry, I didn’t plan ahead,” she apologized, genuinely unaware of how much he despised the request. “It won’t take long.”

Heeseung’s mind reeled. This is ridiculous. His gaze flicked to the window, staring out at the serene street beyond, where everything seemed to move at a pace he wasn’t used to. It was like everyone here had all the time in the world—time to do things slowly, with no urgency. That wasn’t him. He wasn’t used to doing things for himself. It made him feel… small.

“Fine,” he muttered, standing up abruptly. His movements were stiff, his mood darkening by the second. He wasn’t used to this—this lack of service, lack of luxury. And here he was, forced to walk down the street for some damn fruit. It was like a slap to the face.

His grandmother beamed at him, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “Thank you, dear. You’re a good boy.”

Heeseung didn’t bother to respond. Instead, he grabbed his jacket from the chair, pulling it on with as much effort as he could muster, before storming out the door without another word. The door clicked shut behind him, and as he stepped out into the quiet streets of Busan, the reality of his situation began to sink in. The silence of the town was almost suffocating. It wasn’t the vibrant, fast-paced life of Seoul, where everything was taken care of for him, where he was the one with the power, the one with the privilege.

Here? Here, he was just another person—doing his own errands, walking around like everyone else. The thought made his stomach turn, and for a brief moment, he hated everything about this place, about his grandmother’s simple, quiet life.

As he walked to the market, Heeseung couldn’t stop the growing resentment from bubbling up inside him. Every step, every moment spent outside of his comfort zone felt like an insult. He wasn’t sure how long he could last in this town, but one thing was certain—he couldn’t wait to get back to Seoul.

The streets of Busan stretched before Heeseung, calm and predictable, a stark contrast to the chaos of Seoul. The ocean breeze carried the scent of salt and freshly baked bread from a nearby shop, and the occasional chatter of pedestrians filled the air. To anyone else, it might have felt peaceful. To Heeseung, it felt painfully dull.

He walked with his hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders hunched forward. His grandmother had sent him out for groceries, claiming the fresh produce here was better than anything he could find in Seoul. He didn’t care—he just wanted to get this over with. Every step felt heavier than the last, the slow pace of Busan gnawing at him, suffocating him with its quiet simplicity.

Just as he turned the corner, something—or rather, someone—slammed straight into him. A force knocked against his chest, sending him stumbling back, and before he could react, he heard it.

A sickening crack against the pavement.

His heart sank. His phone. His only lifeline to Seoul, his only source of entertainment in this slow, uneventful city—gone. His jaw clenched as frustration surged through him. Of course this would happen here.

“Are you kidding me?” he snapped, his voice sharp.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” a flustered voice rushed out.

Heeseung barely registered the words as his eyes dropped to the ground. The dread in his stomach deepened. His phone lay face-up on the pavement, its screen shattered beyond recognition. His fists curled at his sides, and he exhaled harshly. Unbelievable.

You crouched down quickly, picking up the broken device and turning it over in your hands. “I-I didn’t see you there,” you stammered, eyes wide with guilt. “I was in a hurry, I wasn’t looking—”

Heeseung snatched the phone from your grasp, inspecting the damage.

“Yeah, no kidding,” he muttered, his irritation rising.

You winced. “I’m really sorry. Let me take you to a repair shop—I’ll cover the cost.”

Heeseung scoffed, shaking his head. “As if there’s even a decent one around this shitty place.”

“There is,” you insisted, ignoring his attitude. “It’s not far from here. Please, let me fix this.”

Your voice was gentle, sincere. In Seoul, people either avoided responsibility or threw money at problems like this without a second thought. But you… you actually cared. And for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, that irritated him even more.

He glanced at you more carefully now, noticing the bags of groceries you were holding in your arms. What the hell? he thought. What’s she doing with those?

“Wait,” Heeseung began, a new question forming in his mind as he looked down at the bags. “You delivering groceries or something?”

You nodded, your eyes shifting slightly. “Yeah, I deliver groceries to Miss Lee every week. I was a bit late today, that’s why I bumped into you. I’m sorry again.”

Heeseung blinked, the name clicking in his mind. Miss Lee? His grandmother. He paused, feeling something shift inside him. He thought about the grocery list his grandmother had given him that morning. Had she expected you to come? That would explain why she’d sent him out, probably thinking you wouldn’t make it today.

“You… you deliver to my grandmother?” Heeseung asked, the realization hitting him slowly.

You nodded again, but there was a flicker of surprise in your eyes. “Yeah, she’s… really sweet. I’ve been delivering to her for a while now. Actually, I’m kind of shocked she has a grandson. She’s never mentioned you.”

Heeseung’s brows furrowed. She never mentioned me? That hit him harder than it should have. He had assumed his grandmother had at least said something about him, but maybe she hadn’t. It wasn’t like they had a close relationship. She probably didn’t want to bring him up to you. Why would she?

“I guess she never talks about me,” Heeseung muttered, a little annoyed by the thought. “She never told you about me?”

You shook your head. “No, never. She’s always so kind to me—invites me over for dinner every so often, but I never got the sense she had anyone close in her life. Just… her life here in Busan.”

Heeseung felt a strange mix of irritation and guilt at that. She was right—his grandmother had never mentioned him in a way that implied they were anything more than distant. But he hadn’t made the effort either. The thought stung a bit more than he was willing to admit.

You noticed the silence hanging between you and smiled softly. “Look, I know this probably isn’t the best first impression, but if you want, I can take you to that repair shop. It’s really not far, and I’ll cover the cost of fixing your phone.”

Heeseung rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of his frustration finally start to settle. “Fine. Lead the way. And… I guess thanks.”

You smiled in relief, nodding. He followed you as you walked, the bags of groceries still in your arms. His mind kept racing. Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe it was something more. Either way, this was the first time in a long time that he was actually starting to think twice about his grandmother’s life, and what he might have missed in the years he’d kept his distance. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to be stuck here in Busan, but if things like this kept happening, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. At least, not with you around.

Heeseung followed you into the small shop, still feeling the weight of the broken phone in his hand. He was trying to figure out if this whole thing was a joke. First, he had to leave Seoul, and now, in the middle of this quiet little town, his phone had broken, and this was the only place that could fix it.

The repair shop wasn’t much. The smell of old coffee lingered, and the shelves were lined with spare parts and old phones, like a tiny tech graveyard. Behind the counter stood Jin, a guy with a relaxed vibe, scruffy beard, and a look that said he wasn’t going to let the chaos of life bother him too much.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jin greeted you with a nod, glancing at Heeseung before turning back to the counter. “What’s up today?”

“Hi, Jin. Sorry about the phone,” you said, dropping a bag of groceries on the counter. “It’s his. He’s having a rough morning.”

Heeseung shot you a look, then glanced at the man behind the counter. He couldn’t tell if the guy was serious or just doing his job, but when Jin smiled, he knew something was off.

“No worries,” Jin said, his voice easy. “You know you don’t have to pay for repairs, right?”

“Excuse me?” Heeseung’s voice slipped out without thinking. “What do you mean, no charge? I’m not asking for a freebie here.”

Jin held up his hands. “Relax. Y/N helps me out around here. She’s good people. Honestly, I owe her more than I can give.”

Heeseung blinked, trying to wrap his head around this. Y/N was helping some random guy with his shop… for fun? That didn’t sound like anything he’d ever seen back in Seoul. People helped each other there too, but it was always for a reason, always with something to gain. This? It was just… weird.

Jin chuckled, clearly not fazed by Heeseung’s confusion. “I’m not gonna charge you for the repairs. But you? You’re getting a new phone.”

A new phone? Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “What? You’re just giving me a new one?”

Jin shrugged, a little amused. “Why not? You’re lucky. I can’t think of a better way to repay Y/N for everything she does.”

Heeseung stared at the phone Jin handed him, trying to wrap his mind around what was going on. This wasn’t some charity. No one just gave stuff away like this. But here it was—a brand new phone, way nicer than the broken one in his hand. It was almost as if Jin didn’t even see a reason not to.

“Damn,” Heeseung muttered under his breath, still skeptical. “That’s… unexpected.”

“Yeah, well, Y/N’s a one-in-a-million kind of person,” Jin said with a grin. “Helps me with the shop, takes care of my kid… You won’t find anyone like her in Seoul. I promise you that.”

Heeseung just nodded slowly, the weight of the new phone sinking in. “Right. So… what now?”

Jin gestured toward the counter. “Take it. You’re good to go. Just don’t break this one.”

Heeseung didn’t really know how to respond to that. “I won’t.”

“Well, if you do, just come back. I’ll fix it for free—again,” Jin added, his tone light, like this was all part of some normal routine.

As you gathered your things, Heeseung hesitated for a moment, still not used to this whole vibe. People didn’t just give things away for no reason in Seoul. Here, everything felt different. He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing yet.

You walked out ahead of him, the groceries still in your arms, and Heeseung followed with the brand-new phone, still staring at it like it was some kind of alien object. “Guess I’ll have to get used to this,” he muttered under his breath.

You turned to him with a half-smile. “You will. It’s not that bad, you know. Just… try to not drop that one on the pavement, okay?”

Heeseung gave a half-hearted chuckle, but it didn’t feel as forced as it would have back in Seoul. “Yeah, sure,” he said, his voice still a little dry. “But don’t expect me to become some… Busan saint overnight.”

You shot him a look, one eyebrow raised. “I’m not asking you to change. Just don’t break the phone again.”

Heeseung smirked, shoving the new device into his pocket, still not sure what he’d just gotten himself into. “Whatever,” he said. “I’ll try to keep it in one piece, I guess. But I’m still not a fan of this town.”

You just shrugged, looking ahead as you walked. “We’ll see. You’ll get used to it.”

Heeseung let out a breath. Maybe. Maybe not. But for now, it was one less thing he had to worry about.

As you both made your way back to his grandmother’s house, the weight of the grocery bags was starting to get to you. They weren’t heavy, but the repetitive strain of carrying them made your arms ache a little. Still, you didn’t mind; this was just another day in Busan. You glanced over at Heeseung, who was walking beside you with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His posture was stiff, and the way he scanned the surroundings made it clear: he wasn’t used to it here. He wasn’t used to any of it.

The small streets of Busan, with their peaceful rhythm, were a far cry from the chaos of Seoul. You couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable it must be for someone like him. You could see the way he cringed at the silence, how his shoulders were hunched forward, as though he was actively trying to shrink away from the stillness of it all. It was almost funny, how someone so used to the loud, fast-paced life of Seoul could feel so out of place in this small, quaint town.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence as you walked, “tell me about Seoul. What’s it really like? I mean, it sounds like another world from here.”

Heeseung glanced at you, his lips curling into a brief, cynical smirk. “It is. It’s loud. It’s fast. The people don’t care. And it’s always… moving. It’s like you never stop, and it’s just… better, you know?” His words came out sharper than you expected, like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

You nodded, noticing the bitterness in his tone. “Yeah, but why did you hate it so much?”

Heeseung let out a breath and shrugged, his gaze drifting to the ground. “It’s the same shit everyday. It was fun, for a while, but then it just… got boring. No one really gives a damn. It was all just distractions. And I didn’t want that anymore. But this,” he gestured vaguely at the small streets of Busan, “this is just… too quiet. Too nice. It’s like living in a bubble. I can’t stand it.”

You blinked, surprised at the rawness in his voice. “So, you miss it? The chaos, the noise?”

Heeseung didn’t answer right away. He seemed to be weighing something, before he muttered, “Yeah. I miss it. I miss the parties. I miss the drinking. I miss just… having people around. Even if they don’t care about you. At least it felt real. Here? It’s like everyone’s walking around on eggshells, pretending everything’s perfect.” His voice grew more frustrated as he continued, the usual coolness replaced by something deeper. “I get it. I know why my parents sent me here. They think I’ll change, but what’s the point of change if it means… this?” He gestured around at the peaceful, quiet streets, the ocean breeze that filled the air with calm. “I don’t want to be stuck in this goddamn town, living this boring life with nothing to do but watch the world move around me.”

You were quiet for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in. You’d never met someone who hated a place like this so much. You didn’t understand it completely—after all, Busan had always been home to you, with its slow pace and comforting familiarity. But you could see how someone like Heeseung, someone who thrived on excitement, would feel stifled here.

“So,” you began, trying to shift the mood, “you think you’re going to go back to Seoul anytime soon?”

Heeseung scoffed, running a hand through his hair as he stared ahead. “I wish. But my dad’s made it clear: if I don’t stay here, I’m cut off. No more money, no more fun. Just this life.” His voice was bitter, each word laced with frustration. “It’s either this, or nothing.”

You shrugged, deciding not to press him further. It was clear he didn’t want to be here, but you weren’t sure what kind of life he really wanted either. You couldn’t blame him for feeling out of place, but there had to be more to him than just the party-boy act.

“Well, you could always go back to the city when you’re ready,” you said casually, though you didn’t fully believe it. You’d never seen someone so desperate to run away from something so peaceful.

Heeseung didn’t respond right away. Instead, he glanced over at you as you carried the heavy bags. “You know,” he said with a hint of hesitation, “you don’t have to carry all that yourself. You could’ve asked for help.”

You laughed lightly, not even breaking stride. “Oh, I’m fine. It’s nothing, really.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you always this stubborn? Don’t you have a boyfriend who could help with stuff like this?”

You chuckled at his attempt to steer the conversation away from the heavy topic, and without missing a beat, you shot back, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Heeseung gave you a quick glance, confused. “No boyfriend? Why not?”

You shrugged, your expression neutral. “I’m just waiting for the right person. I haven’t been in love yet, so I’m not in any rush.”

Heeseung scoffed, as if the idea of waiting for “the one” was absurd. “That’s stupid. Love’s just… a distraction. You’re telling me you believe in soulmates?” He seemed genuinely baffled by the idea.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding slightly. “I believe that when the time’s right, someone’s going to show up. Why rush it?”

Heeseung snorted, shaking his head. “Soulmates. That’s a nice fairy tale.”

You shot him a look. “Well, you don’t have to believe in it. But it’s nice to think that someone out there is meant for me, y’know?”

He didn’t answer. His expression softened just a little, but only for a second before he shifted the conversation again. “What about you, though? Why do you do all this stuff for people? I mean, you work for free. You help out with Jin’s shop. You take care of his kid, and for what? What’s in it for you?”

You smiled, the weight of the groceries beginning to feel heavier again, but you didn’t care. “I do it because it makes me feel good. There’s no catch. I just like making people’s lives a little easier, especially when they’re struggling.” You paused, glancing over at him. “Not everyone has the luxury of things coming easily to them.”

Heeseung didn’t reply right away, and for a second, you thought he was going to brush you off. But instead, he turned to you, his expression thoughtful, almost pensive.

“Yeah, well, maybe you’re right,” he muttered. “But… I still think you’re wasting your time.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Maybe. But it’s my time to waste, isn’t it?”

As you continued walking, you couldn’t help but notice that Heeseung was walking just a little bit slower now, his shoulders a little less tense. Maybe it was just the calm of Busan working its way under his skin, or maybe… just maybe, he was starting to understand what you meant. He had a long way to go before he’d admit it, but something in his expression made you think that, despite all his bravado, Heeseung wasn’t as sure of his life as he tried to seem.

When you finally arrived back at Mrs. Lee’s house, your arms were sore from carrying the heavy bags of groceries. You stepped through the door and were greeted by Mrs. Lee, who was in the kitchen preparing something.

“Oh, you’re back already?” she asked, surprised. “I didn’t expect you to bring the groceries. You didn’t come like usual, so I thought you must’ve gotten busy. So, I made him go out and get it for me.”

You glanced over at Heeseung, who was already walking inside with his usual disinterested expression. He seemed completely indifferent, clearly not in the mood for any kind of conversation.

“Well,” you started softly, your voice apologetic, “We kind of bumped into each other on the way here. I wasn’t paying attention, and… I accidentally broke his phone.” You paused, feeling a bit awkward. “I offered to take him to a repair shop to get it fixed, and that’s how this whole thing turned into an impromptu grocery run.”

Mrs. Lee chuckled lightly, giving you a warm smile. “You’re very kind, Y/N. Heeseung usually doesn’t let anyone help him.” She turned to glance at her grandson, who was already walking up the stairs, uninterested in the conversation.

“Well,” Mrs. Lee continued, “since you’re here, could you help Heeseung unpack his things? I’m sure he could use the help.”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Sure, I’ll help him.”

His room wasn’t what you expected. It was neat, organized, and… almost too perfect. The kind of room that looked like it had been arranged by someone who had little interest in making it homey. Everything had its place, and there was no sign of the kind of chaos that usually accompanies someone who had just moved in. Heeseung, on the other hand, stood off to the side, looking as uninterested as ever.

You started unpacking a bag of his things, trying to make the space feel a bit more lived in. As you did, you noticed something on the floor near his bag. You knelt down and picked up a box of condoms, surprised to find it among his clothes. What the hell is he planning on doing with those? you thought to yourself, feeling slightly uncomfortable, your cheeks heating up. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but it was hard not to wonder about Heeseung’s lifestyle.

You placed the box back down in its spot, still trying to process the absurdity of it all. “This guy really brought everything with him,” you muttered to yourself.

Heeseung glanced over, his sharp eyes catching yours. “What? Judging the things I bring now?” His voice was cool, though there was a hint of irritation in it. “Something wrong with it?”

You quickly looked away, a little embarrassed. “No, it’s just… never mind.”

He smirked, a small, amused glint in his eyes. “Guess you’re not used to people like me, huh?” He leaned back against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Not everyone’s a small-town angel.”

You continued unpacking Heeseung’s things, your mind wandering as you tried to make sense of the absurdity of it all. His room, his stuff—everything seemed so out of place for someone who had just arrived in this quiet town. As you shifted through the bags, you couldn’t help but glance up at him for a second. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching you silently, looking completely at ease in his space, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Before you could stop yourself, your gaze lingered a little too long on him. Something about the way he looked—like he belonged in a magazine or a K-drama—made it hard not to stare.

You quickly snapped your eyes away, feeling a bit embarrassed, but before you could recover, Heeseung’s voice broke the silence. “You’re staring,” he said nonchalantly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if it was no big deal.

You blinked, caught off guard. He didn’t even look at you when he said it, his attention still on his phone. “I—uh, sorry,” you stammered, trying to act normal, but his smirk made you feel exposed, like he could tell you were thinking more than you let on.

Heeseung just shrugged, seemingly unbothered. “Whatever.” His voice was casual, but there was a certain sharpness to it that you couldn’t quite shake off. Maybe it was because people in Busan don’t look like him a typical boy born in Seoul.

You focused on putting his things away, doing your best to ignore how your heartbeat had picked up just a little from the way he’d called you out. You weren’t sure why his words got to you so much, but there was something about him—something hard to ignore.

But you pushed the thoughts aside. You had enough to think about. “Let’s just finish this up,” you muttered under your breath, your hands still working, trying to keep your mind from wandering too far.

As you packed the last of his bags into the small wardrobe, you looked over at him again. He wasn’t paying attention to you anymore, his eyes glued to his phone. The way he just detached himself from everything around him was frustrating, but you couldn’t deny how interesting it was, too. He was so different from anyone you had met in Busan. You didn’t even think someone like him could exist here.

“Alright, that’s everything,” you said, trying to break the silence as you stood up. “Is there anything else?”

He looked at you then, like he was actually considering whether or not he had more to say. But before he could answer, his grandmother’s voice floated in from the kitchen.

“Heeseung!” Mrs. Lee called, her tone light and welcoming. “Why don’t you and y/nnie friend come have some tea?”

Heeseung gave you an unreadable look before turning to follow his grandmother into the kitchen. You shrugged, gathering your things as you followed him. Mrs. Lee, ever the gracious host, had already set everything out. The table was small, but cozy, and the warm scent of tea filled the room.

You sat down across from Heeseung, trying to ignore the awkwardness of the situation. It wasn’t your fault he’d been sent here. It wasn’t your fault he didn’t seem to want to be here, either. You weren’t even sure why you’d stuck around this long. But there was something about him—a puzzle you were determined to solve, even if he wasn’t making it easy.

Mrs. Lee beamed at the both of you, her hands clasped in front of her as she poured the tea. “You two must be tired after everything today,” she said with a warm smile. “I’m so glad you met my grandson. Heeseung doesn’t get out much in Seoul, so it’s good for him to have a new friend here.”

You smiled politely, but couldn’t help glancing at Heeseung. His eyes flickered over to you, but he said nothing. He was so quiet, so withdrawn, like he couldn’t care less. It made you want to say something, to ask him what he thought of all this, but you knew it wasn’t that simple.

“So, what do you plan on doing while you’re here in Busan?” you asked casually, trying to keep the conversation going.

He looked at you for a long moment before answering, his voice flat. “Suffer, suffer, and maybe some more suffering.”

“Really?” you said, almost wanting to let out a scoff. “Don’t you want to explore this city? It’s quite beautiful, don’t you think?”

He shrugged, his lips twitching slightly. “Guess you don’t know me very well, do you?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I don’t think anyone does.”

Heeseung just smirked again, as if that was the answer he’d expected. The conversation shifted again as his grandmother asked about your family, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how guarded he was. You weren’t sure if he was scared of opening up or if he simply didn’t care. Either way, you were curious.

As the tea settled between them, you couldn’t help but feel like you were witnessing a slow-moving train wreck. It wasn’t your responsibility to fix Heeseung, but it didn’t stop you from wanting to know more. Whatever his story was, it wasn’t over yet.

The next morning, Heeseung was jolted awake by a knock on his door. Groggily, he glanced at the clock on his nightstand. 9 AM. To most people, that wasn’t so early. But for him? It was still the middle of the night. He let out a loud groan and buried his face in his pillow, the sheets tangled around his legs.

“Who the hell is knocking at this hour?” he muttered under his breath, his eyes barely open as he tried to fall back asleep. The sound of another knock echoed through the room.

“Come on, Heeseung, wake up!” a familiar voice called from outside.

He rolled over to face the door, his face still pressed into the pillow. He didn’t even want to know who it was, but the voice was unmistakable.

It was you.

With a resigned sigh, Heeseung threw off the covers and dragged himself out of bed. His eyes were half-lidded as he trudged over to the door and swung it open, trying to stifle a yawn.

You stood there, smiling brightly, almost too cheerfully for the time of day. You were holding a bag with what appeared to be snacks, and your eyes glimmered with excitement.

“Good morning, Heeseung!” you greeted, unfazed by his obvious lack of enthusiasm. “I hope I didn’t wake you up too early. But I thought today would be a good day to show you around Busan. You’re probably still not used to it here, right?”

Heeseung stared at you for a moment, still processing the fact that you were standing in front of him so early. He groaned again, rubbing his eyes. “Seriously? It’s barely 9 AM…”

“I know, I know,” you said, unfazed by his obvious irritation. “But trust me, it’ll be fun. You’ll get to see the popular beaches, the rivers, all the places people talk about.”

Heeseung had been dreading something like this. He wasn’t here to sightsee, and he definitely wasn’t interested in anything that resembled “fun” at this time of day. He was about to give a lazy refusal when he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

“Heeseung, dear, you should go. It’ll be good for you.” Mrs. Lee’s voice floated from the kitchen. “You don’t want to spend all your time cooped up inside. You might as well get to know Busan better.”

Heeseung sighed, the last thing he wanted to do today was get dragged around a bunch of beaches and tourist spots. But what could he do? His grandmother had that look on her face. The one that told him he’d have to do it, no matter how much he complained.

“Fine,” he muttered, trying to mask his annoyance. “But I swear, if I get dragged to any crowded tourist traps, I’m out.”

You just smiled and handed him a bottle of water. “It’s not like that, I promise. Let’s just go enjoy the day.”

As the day dragged on, Heeseung found himself following you around the streets of Busan, though his mind wasn’t really there. He was hoping for some kind of excuse to get out of this whole ordeal, but as the sun rose higher in the sky, he noticed something. The quiet, peaceful atmosphere of Busan was starting to grow on him, just a little bit. He hated to admit it, but there was something different here. Something that he couldn’t ignore.

You led him to one of the most popular beaches in the area, and for the first time, Heeseung felt a little more relaxed. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was oddly soothing. The salty breeze hit him with a refreshing chill, and the scent of freshly baked bread and seafood lingered in the air.

Still, he wasn’t used to the tranquility of it all. It felt strange. He had never seen a place so peaceful, so unhurried. Seoul was the complete opposite—noisy, busy, everyone always rushing to go somewhere. But here, people just… existed. And you fit into that world perfectly.

As you wandered through the beach, you waved to almost everyone you passed, exchanging greetings with ease. Heeseung watched with a mix of confusion and awe. How did you know so many people?

“Morning, Y/N!” A man called out from a bench, waving as you passed. You returned the gesture, chatting briefly with him before continuing along.

“Hey, Y/N!” A couple of girls greeted, and you stopped to talk to them, laughing at something one of them said before you carried on.

Heeseung had never seen anything like it. People in Seoul didn’t talk to each other like this. There was always a distance between everyone, a sense of hurriedness that kept people from acknowledging one another. But in Busan? It was different.

“How do you know so many people?” Heeseung finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

You smiled, unfazed by his question. “I’ve lived here my whole life. You get to know people when you help out around town. It’s a small place, so it’s easy to make connections.”

Heeseung couldn’t help but wonder how many people you helped on a regular basis. You seemed so comfortable in your own skin, so open to the world around you. It was something he wasn’t used to, and he felt a strange sense of admiration for you—though he quickly dismissed it. No, he didn’t need to start feeling anything for someone like you. You were different. Too different.

As the day continued, Heeseung couldn’t ignore the growing warmth in his chest every time someone smiled at you or waved. It wasn’t like anything he had experienced before. It wasn’t the kind of warmth he got from the noise and chaos of his parties back in Seoul, where everything felt empty and fleeting. This was something… real. But what was it?

By the time you had finished showing him the rivers, the markets, and some of the more popular landmarks, Heeseung found himself lost in thought. You were nothing like anyone he knew back home. You were kind, open, and honest in a way that almost made him uncomfortable. But it also made him feel something he wasn’t sure he wanted to feel.

As you stood on the beach, watching the sun slowly set over the horizon, Heeseung glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You were looking out at the water, your face soft in the fading light. He couldn’t help but feel a strange pull toward you, something unfamiliar that made him uneasy.

What was this? Why did you make him feel like this?

You turned to face him, catching his gaze, and for a brief moment, Heeseung was struck by how easy it was for you to make him feel so… unsettled. He was used to being the one who controlled the situation, who didn’t let anyone in. But here you were, a complete stranger, and somehow, you had gotten under his skin.

But he didn’t want to think about it. It was stupid. It was just the peaceful atmosphere of Busan making him think too much. He couldn’t let himself get distracted by something like this.

So, he shoved the thought aside, letting the warmth in his chest fade away.

“Alright, I’m done,” he said, turning on his heel and starting to walk back toward where you had parked the car.

You smiled to yourself, following after him, though you had no idea what was going on inside his head.

As you both made your way back toward the car, Heeseung stayed a few steps ahead, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. He didn’t say much, and you figured he was still in his mood, probably counting down the minutes until he could return to his usual routine of partying and hooking up. He was still adjusting to this quiet, peaceful life, and you didn’t expect him to suddenly embrace it. Not yet, at least.

But you couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in his demeanor. The way his eyes lingered on things a little longer than usual, the softening of his features when he wasn’t trying to hide it. Heeseung wasn’t someone who let his guard down easily, but there were moments when he looked almost… peaceful. It was a rare sight, and maybe that’s why you noticed it more than you should have.

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked casually, watching as he glanced at the horizon, his expression unreadable.

Heeseung gave you a sideways glance but didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he shoved his hands further into his pockets and looked away.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice low. But there was something in the way he said it, a tinge of something that made you wonder if he was telling the truth.

“Well, thanks for coming today,” you said, your tone more sincere than you intended. “I know you probably didn’t want to, but I’m glad you did. It’s good to get out once in a while, right?”

Heeseung just grunted, not really acknowledging your words. But you noticed the way his posture softened a bit, like the weight of his frustration from earlier had lifted slightly. You didn’t know if it was from the fresh air, the quiet streets, or maybe just the fact that for once, he didn’t feel so suffocated by the city, but something about him seemed a little… different.

As you reached the car, Heeseung leaned against it, crossing his arms and staring at the ground. His usual cocky demeanor had faded, replaced by something that you couldn’t quite place. Was it discomfort? Was he actually considering what you said? The thought made you pause for a moment.

“So,” you said after a beat, breaking the silence, “you really don’t like it here, huh? Busan, I mean.”

Heeseung didn’t look up. “It’s… too quiet,” he replied simply. “I’m used to Seoul. The noise, the people, the clubs, everything. It’s not the same here.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You don’t think it’s a little… better here? Peaceful, maybe?”

Heeseung snorted. “It’s boring. I don’t need peace. I need life. I need… energy. Excitement.”

You let out a small laugh, though it wasn’t mocking, just amused by his stubbornness. “You know, I think you’re going to need a little more than ‘life’ and ‘energy’ if you really want to make it here.”

Heeseung finally looked at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I can handle myself.”

The way he said it made you wonder if he truly believed it. But you didn’t press him. You could see he was still struggling with the idea of being in Busan, and while you didn’t fully understand his attachment to the chaos of Seoul, you knew better than to push too hard.

“So, what now?” he asked, suddenly more curious than before. “We head back to your grandma’s place, or what?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, we should probably get back. I promised her I’d help with some things.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Wait, what? You’re really that dedicated to helping an old lady?”

You chuckled at the way he phrased it. “Well, Mrs. Lee isn’t just an old lady, you know? She’s been a big part of my life for years. Plus, she’s always there for me when I need something. It’s the least I can do.”

Heeseung scoffed lightly, though there was no real malice behind it. “Yeah, sure, whatever. I guess you’re just one of those ‘do-gooders,’ huh?”

You looked at him with a slightly amused smile. “Is that a bad thing?”

Heeseung shrugged. “I don’t know. Just seems kind of… cheesy.”

You laughed lightly. “You’d be surprised how much people like a little kindness now and then.”

Heeseung didn’t reply, but you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch upwards ever so slightly, like he was fighting the urge to smile. He quickly looked away, as if to hide it.

The drive back was a quiet one, with the occasional comment from Heeseung about how quiet Busan was or how “boring” everything seemed. But you didn’t mind. There was something calming about the quiet between you two, and you could feel the subtle shift in the air. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to appreciate the small things in life here. Or maybe he was just starting to get used to you.

When you reached Mrs. Lee’s house, you both got out of the car and made your way inside, the peaceful atmosphere of Busan seeming to wrap around you again. But this time, Heeseung didn’t complain. Instead, he followed you inside, and for a brief moment, you saw something different in his eyes—a sense of curiosity that had been absent before.

Maybe he didn’t fully understand it yet, but you could tell that he was beginning to.

Weeks passed since that day at the beach, and Heeseung had reluctantly started to adjust to life in Busan. It wasn’t like he had a choice. His parents had made it clear that he was here to stay until they thought he was ready to go back to Seoul—if that ever happened. He still hated the quiet, the slow pace, and the constant reminder that he was stuck here. But, slowly, he began to get used to it.

There was something about you that he couldn’t quite shake, though. You were always so calm, always so genuinely kind, and for the first time in a long time, Heeseung found himself looking forward to the moments you came over. He didn’t admit it, of course. He was still the same Heeseung—the one who kept his distance, the one who didn’t let anyone in too easily. But he started to warm up to you. He accepted that you were probably the only real friend he had here, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

You both followed each other on Instagram, and he found himself checking your page more than he wanted to. At first, he convinced himself that it was just because you were the only one he knew in Busan. You had a lot of pictures of the places around the city—the markets, the beaches, and the food. Sometimes he’d scroll through your stories, watching you chat with your friends, laughing with them, and living your quiet little life. It made something twist in his stomach that he couldn’t quite identify.

He hated how much he found himself looking at your posts, but it was like a habit he couldn’t shake. There was something about your smile, something about the way you seemed so… content, that had a strange effect on him. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or hated it. Either way, it made him miss you in a way that didn’t make sense to him.

It was a restless night for Heeseung. His mind kept racing, thoughts of you lingering in his head. He couldn’t shake the feeling, the strange sense of longing that made him feel more out of place than ever. He had convinced himself over and over that it was just because you were the only person he knew in Busan, that it was just the loneliness of the city playing tricks on him. But the more he thought about it, the more he knew that wasn’t the case.

He turned over in his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to block out the thoughts of you. But there they were, your smile, your laugh, the way you made him feel like maybe he wasn’t so far gone after all. He hated that he was thinking about you like this, hated how you’d crept under his skin. It didn’t make sense. Why you? Why now?

He glanced at his phone. It was 3 a.m. His thumb hovered over your contact, hesitation flooding him. He had been lying there for what felt like hours, debating whether or not to reach out to you. It wasn’t like him—Heeseung didn’t just call anyone at this hour, especially not someone like you. But the thought of hearing your voice, of not feeling so damn alone for just a few minutes, was enough to make his decision.

He pressed your name and waited, his heart pounding in his chest.

The phone rang once. Then twice. Before the third ring, your voice cut through the darkness.

“Heeseung?” you answered, your voice quiet but clear, as if you had been waiting for the call. It caught him off guard.

Heeseung didn’t speak right away. There was something about the way you answered, without any hesitation, that made him feel… stupid. Like maybe this wasn’t as big of a deal as he was making it in his head. But before he could gather his thoughts, the silence stretched between them.

Heeseung’s heart pounded in his chest, the silence between them thick and awkward. He stared at the dark room around him, feeling the weight of the night settle on his shoulders. He had no idea why he even called. What was he doing? It was 3 a.m., for God’s sake.

The quiet hum of your voice through the phone pulled him back to reality.

“What are you doing up so late?” you asked, your tone light and filled with that quiet kindness he had come to recognize.

He froze for a moment. He wasn’t sure how to answer. His mind raced, and for once, he was at a loss for words. What could he say? That he couldn’t sleep? That his mind had been running in circles with thoughts of you? That would sound ridiculous. He wasn’t the kind of guy to admit things like that.

He let out a sharp breath, trying to sound casual, as if it wasn’t bothering him at all. “I… I couldn’t sleep,” he muttered, shifting in bed, feeling the tension in his muscles. “Just… thinking.”

You were quiet for a moment, probably waiting for more, but Heeseung wasn’t sure how to explain any of this. He didn’t even fully understand it himself.

Finally, he broke the silence again, forcing himself to sound a little less awkward. “Anyway, I just—well, I guess I needed to hear a familiar voice.”

The words hung in the air, and Heeseung instantly regretted saying them.

Heeseung sat up in bed, the glow of his phone lighting up his face in the darkness of his room. He wasn’t sure why he’d called, and the more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed. He could feel the silence stretching between the two of you before you finally spoke.

“What are you doing up so late?” you asked, your voice soft and warm through the phone.

Heeseung hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He wasn’t used to being vulnerable, and right now, all he wanted was to avoid it. His gaze flicked toward the window, the quiet, still streets of Busan mocking him as if reminding him of just how different this place was from Seoul.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. “Just… thinking.”

He didn’t know why that seemed like the most acceptable answer, but it was the truth, in a way. His mind had been racing ever since he’d gotten off the phone with his parents earlier that day, the weight of his situation still pressing down on him.

He heard you pause, then you teased him. “I thought you said my voice was annoying? What did you say I sounded like? A-”

Heeseung quickly cut you off, his voice low and defensive, “I didn’t mean that. I was just messing around, alright?”

You were silent for a moment, and he could almost picture you smirking on the other end, and that somehow irritated him. Why was he so flustered? Why had he even called?

He shifted again, a small laugh escaping your lips through the phone. “You’re such a liar. I knew you didn’t mean it. No one can resist my voice for too long.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, leaning back against the headboard. He didn’t know how to respond to that, especially when the truth was that his thoughts had been consumed with you ever since you’d showed him around the town. He didn’t get it. Why was he thinking about you now? He didn’t even know you that well.

“I’m serious,” he muttered, feeling that strange mix of frustration and confusion bubbling inside him. “It’s just… different here, you know?”

You responded with understanding. “Busan’s a lot quieter than Seoul. You’ll get used to it. It just takes time.”

Heeseung wasn’t sure if he believed that, but hearing your voice and your gentle words made him feel a little lighter, even though he hated to admit it. You had that effect on him, and he hated it.

“Yeah, whatever,” he said, trying to brush it off. “I’m still not used to it.”

There was a long pause. He almost thought you’d hang up, but then you spoke again, quieter this time.

“You’ll be okay,” you said. “I know it’s not easy, but things will change, Heeseung. Just… take it one step at a time.”

Heeseung didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t know how to respond to something so simple, so calm. He wasn’t sure if it was because of your words or because he didn’t want to admit it, but something inside him shifted, just a little. Maybe he could make it through this place after all. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad with you around.

Heeseung leaned back against the headboard, feeling a strange, uncomfortable tightness in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain. The silence between you both felt different now—not awkward, but almost… too comfortable. It was something he didn’t know how to deal with, not when he was still trying to make sense of everything in his head.

“I guess I’ll… try to get some sleep,” he said, his voice trailing off.

He heard you sigh softly on the other end, and there was that warmth again, the kind that only you seemed to give him, even when he wasn’t asking for it.

“I’m sure you will,” you replied, your tone light but with a softness to it. “But if you can’t, you know where to find me.”

For some reason, those words hit him harder than they should have. He wasn’t used to this—this kindness, this genuine care. You weren’t just some stranger anymore. You were someone he relied on, whether he wanted to admit it or not. And it made him feel… weird. Confused. Like he was losing control of something he didn’t want to lose.

“I’ll be fine,” he said quickly, trying to shake the feeling. “You should get some sleep too.”

There was a pause, and when you spoke again, he could almost feel the smile on your face. “I’m already asleep, Heeseung. You’re just dreaming.”

He let out a soft, surprised laugh, despite himself. “Yeah, right. Maybe it’s a nightmare.”

“Is that so?” you teased lightly. “Well, if you ever need help with that, you know where I am.”

Heeseung let out a breath, trying to steady himself. Your voice was too calm, too soothing. And it made him feel things he didn’t want to feel. Things he couldn’t explain.

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his tone a little quieter than usual. It felt like there was something more he should have said, something more he wanted to say, but he didn’t know how to put it into words.

There was a soft pause before you replied, and when you did, it was simple: “Goodnight, Heeseung.”

Your voice was gentle, the way it always was, and for a moment, Heeseung just sat there in silence, phone pressed to his ear. He wanted to say something back, but the words didn’t come. He didn’t know what to say anymore, not when his mind felt like a mess.

The line went quiet, and Heeseung just stayed there, staring at the ceiling in the dark, his thoughts racing. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what else to say. Maybe it was better that way.

Eventually, the call ended, and all Heeseung was left with was the quiet of the room and the confusing feeling in his chest. It was so stupid. He was being stupid. He just needed to sleep, but his mind wouldn’t let him. Not when you were still there, lingering in his thoughts.

The room felt too quiet now. Too still.

He closed his eyes, trying to shut it all out, but the silence was deafening.

The morning light filtered through the window, and Heeseung woke up with a strange heaviness in his chest. His first thought, as ridiculous as it seemed, was of you. He couldn’t help it. Every time he tried to focus on something else, your voice, your smile, or even the way you always seemed to look at him like you actually cared—it was all there, stuck in his mind. It bothered him. And, somehow, it felt… nice?

He tried shaking it off, getting up to do something—anything—to distract himself. He needed to forget about last night, about that stupid, confusing conversation, and the fact that he wanted to hear your voice again. But it lingered.

Around lunchtime, he thought about calling you. He almost grabbed his phone, thumb hovering over your contact, but then he stopped himself. He was being ridiculous. He couldn’t face whatever was happening inside his head. He didn’t want to think about it, especially not today.

So he sat there, doing his best to avoid thinking about the way his heart skipped whenever he thought about you.

But then the doorbell rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. His grandma was out, and he didn’t expect anyone else. He walked to the door, pulling it open, and there you stood—holding a bag of instant ramen. His favorite, of course.

“I brought you some ramen,” you said with a soft smile, almost like you’d read his mind. “I know you don’t have anything else, and it’s your favorite. I figured you’d be starving.”

He blinked, momentarily speechless. What was going on? He never expected you to show up with something like this. Maybe it was because his grandma had been gone, or maybe it was just because… well, you cared.

“Uh, thanks,” Heeseung mumbled, trying to sound unaffected, but something in his chest tightened again. “You really didn’t have to.”

You shrugged, not even fazed by his cool demeanor. “I don’t mind. Besides, I’m the one who taught you how to cook ramen anyway.”

He didn’t say anything to that, just followed you into the kitchen. You both started to prepare the noodles, the kitchen filled with the sound of boiling water and the small clinks of metal as you moved around. You even hummed a little, and Heeseung couldn’t help but notice how much more relaxed you were compared to him. You just moved like everything was easy—like things weren’t as complicated as he made them.

You handed him the ramen packets, asking, “Hey, do you want to pour in the sauce packets, or should I?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sauce packets?” He hadn’t even noticed that you were about to clean up the mess. The weird thing was—he didn’t mind.

Usually, he’d make a face and just leave it, or walk away, letting someone else clean up after him. But now?

Without thinking, he reached for the packets, uncapping them and adding them to the noodles. He glanced up at you. “I’ll clean up,” he said, surprising even himself.

You froze for a second, then let out a quiet laugh. “Oh, wow. Heeseung actually cleaning up? Someone must’ve slipped something into your ramen.”

He shot you a playful glare, even though he couldn’t help but feel a little defensive. “I’m not that bad.”

“You sure about that?” you teased lightly, though there was no malice in your tone. “I mean, I’ve seen you leave a mess all over the place. I guess I just didn’t expect this.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes but found himself laughing despite the teasing. It felt different—normal. Comfortable. “Well, guess you’re in for a surprise then,” he said, a bit of a smirk tugging at his lips.

You laughed again, shaking your head. “I never thought I’d see the day when you offered to clean up after yourself.”

He just shrugged, his gaze shifting away from you. “Maybe I’m not as bad as you think.”

You gave him a small smile, and for a moment, Heeseung felt a weird warmth in his chest again. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to like it here. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

But he wasn’t about to admit that out loud.

“Thanks,” he said quietly as you set the ramen down on the counter. You didn’t respond immediately, just gave him a glance before turning back to the stove.

In the silence that followed, Heeseung couldn’t help but feel that annoying little feeling again, the one he couldn’t shake. The one that made his chest tighten whenever you smiled, or laughed, or even when you teased him. He didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t help it.

Maybe he was just getting used to you, or maybe it was something else. Something more than that. But Heeseung didn’t know how to deal with that. Not yet. He wasn’t ready for it.

As you stirred the ramen, the smell of the rich broth mixing with the scent of the seasoning packets filled the air. You could feel Heeseung’s gaze on you, even without looking at him. It was the way he lingered in the corner of your vision, the way his silence weighed in the room. The kitchen felt warm, but not just from the stove.

You ignored it, of course. What else could you do? You told yourself it was just his usual quiet presence, the way he existed in a space without ever really being present. But there was something different today. His gaze lingered longer than usual. Maybe it was just your imagination, but you couldn’t help but feel like he was watching you a little more closely.

“Something on my face?” you asked without looking up, trying to sound casual as you added a little more seasoning to the pot.

He didn’t answer immediately. You could feel him hesitate, as if unsure whether to respond or not. You turned, meeting his eyes briefly, and caught that familiar look. He was staring again. But he didn’t say anything this time, and you didn’t press him either.

Why would he be staring at you? He was so… different. The contrast between you two was glaring. Heeseung was everything that this town wasn’t. He was loud, a little reckless, and far too aware of his looks. His life in Seoul, all the people and parties and chaos, it was so far from the peaceful rhythm of Busan. And then there was you. You were nothing like that. Quiet, simple, and someone who knew how to exist without drawing attention. The thought that he might actually be… interested? That he might want to spend time with you? It didn’t make sense.

You shrugged it off, stirring the ramen again, pretending like it didn’t matter. But deep down, a small part of you wondered why he was still here, in this small, warm kitchen with you.

Your mind started to wander, your hands working mechanically while your thoughts drifted. Why would a guy like Heeseung, someone who could have anyone, even care about someone like me? You weren’t bad-looking, not by any means. But compared to him? He had that perfect, effortless charm. His looks were always on display. He walked with that confidence, like he owned every room he walked into. His smile had the ability to make girls swoon, and there was a certain edge to him that made people take notice. You, on the other hand, had always preferred to stay out of the spotlight. You liked being quiet, making others feel comfortable. You didn’t need to stand out. Yet, here he was, staring at you like you were worth his attention.

It doesn’t make sense.

You told yourself to focus on the ramen, but the weight of his gaze felt heavy, even when you weren’t looking. His presence, the slight tension in the air whenever he was near, was starting to become something you couldn’t ignore. It was unsettling, yet somehow comforting, a paradox that you didn’t want to unpack.

“Do you need anything else?” you asked, still trying to distract yourself from the thoughts swirling in your head. You were determined to act like everything was normal, to keep the conversation light. After all, you were doing a favor for his grandmother, not trying to figure out why Heeseung was suddenly acting different.

Heeseung didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on you. You could feel the weight of his attention, how his eyes lingered a little too long. Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached for a nearby towel, his voice low but steady.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”

For a moment, the room was quiet again, only the sound of the ramen bubbling in the pot filling the space. You glanced at him briefly, only to catch him staring at you again, a faint smirk playing on his lips, almost like he was amused by something only he understood.

You forced yourself to look away, rolling your eyes internally. What is wrong with me?

It felt like something had shifted between you two in the past few days. At first, he’d been distant, almost standoffish. Now, it seemed like he was getting comfortable, letting his guard down little by little. It wasn’t much—just small moments here and there. A shared laugh, the way he’d offered to clean up without being asked, or how he didn’t argue when you came over to make him food. Even now, in this small kitchen, there was something different in the air.

But that didn’t change the fact that Heeseung was Heeseung, and you were just you. You were calm, introverted, and didn’t crave the drama or excitement he thrived on. His world was fast-paced, filled with people, parties, and noise. Your world was quieter, simpler, and more peaceful.

You tried to push away the irrational thought that he might actually be interested in you. What would someone like him even see in you? You weren’t glamorous or bold. You weren’t someone who had a reputation to uphold or a past that people whispered about. But Heeseung… He was different. Or maybe, you told yourself, you were seeing him differently than before. It was just a stupid feeling. Right?

Heeseung cleared his throat suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Did you just… laugh?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the question. “What?”

“Back there,” Heeseung repeated. “When I said I’d clean up, you laughed.”

You were silent for a moment, realizing that yes, you had laughed. But it wasn’t a mean laugh, or a mocking one—it was lighthearted. “I wasn’t laughing at you,” you said, trying to make it sound casual. “It’s just… you usually don’t offer to clean up. You’re more of a ‘leave it for someone else’ type of guy.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow at you, then leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “So, what, you think I’m lazy or something?”

You shrugged, pretending to be unfazed. “I didn’t say that. I just think it’s funny how you suddenly care about cleaning up.”

He snorted, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess you just don’t know me as well as you think, huh?”

You wanted to roll your eyes again but bit your lip to keep yourself from doing it. Instead, you just smiled, this time a little less guarded. Maybe it was because the conversation wasn’t so awkward anymore. Maybe it was because he wasn’t so cold anymore.

“Maybe you’re right,” you said quietly, “Maybe I don’t know you at all.”

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You were starting to feel like you wanted to know him. The thought caught you off guard as you looked at him once again—like you really did want to understand why he acted the way he did. But how could you? Heeseung was nothing like you. He was loud, brash, and unpredictable.

But still… you couldn’t help the way your heart did this weird thing every time he looked at you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was starting to notice you, too. And for reasons you still didn’t understand, that was starting to matter to you more than you cared to admit.

It was getting late, and the kitchen was starting to feel a little more cramped with the fading daylight. The last of the dishes had been cleared, the ramen long finished, and you were getting ready to head out. Heeseung was still there, leaning against the counter, looking a bit more relaxed than when you first arrived. You’d helped a family with their kid earlier—something you did every now and then, especially since Mrs. Lee had asked you to stop by and help with a few errands. It was one of those little things you did that made you feel like you belonged here, in Busan.

You stood by the door, gathering your things, feeling that slight pull in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to leave—it was just… something felt different now. The way Heeseung had looked at you earlier, like he was thinking about something, made you wonder. Maybe it was just because you spent time together today, or maybe because you were finally starting to see another side of him.

Heeseung glanced at you as you put your jacket on, his voice breaking the silence.

“You leaving?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was something more there that you couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah, I promised I’d stop by and help with a few things for a family,” you replied with a soft smile. “I’ll be back later in the week though.”

He nodded, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment too long. You weren’t sure what to make of it, so you just gave him a nod in return, about to step out the door when—

“Hey, wait.”

You paused, turning back toward him.

Heeseung shifted uncomfortably, his hand reaching out slightly as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out. “You… um, you’re alright? I mean, you’re okay with everything, right?”

You were a little surprised by his sudden change in tone. His usual cool demeanor had softened, just slightly. It was almost like he was… checking in.

“I’m good,” you said, smiling a bit more genuinely now. “Don’t worry about me. You take care, alright?”

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering down to the floor before meeting your eyes again. “I will,” he muttered, almost as if he wasn’t sure whether to say more.

You left his house, and as the night crept in, a strange feeling gnawed at you. You kept thinking back to how he’d looked at you, how he’d asked if you were okay. You tried to shake it off, telling yourself it was just the way he was—his complicated mix of coolness and uncertainty. But then, as you reached your place, something else crossed your mind.

Heeseung was still in Busan. He wasn’t going back to Seoul anytime soon. And you were starting to realize that, even though you tried not to admit it, you did care about how he felt.

Heeseung lay in bed, the sheets tangled around his legs, staring at the ceiling. The night was too quiet, too still. He couldn’t sleep. His mind was buzzing with thoughts, most of them about you. It had been a strange day. Well, not strange, but different. He didn’t usually feel like this—like there was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something that kept him on edge.

He didn’t know why he called you earlier. Maybe it was the silence of the house or the way his thoughts kept drifting to you. Maybe it was the feeling that, despite all the people in Busan, you were the only one who had made an effort to get to know him. He wasn’t used to that.

The way he’d looked at you earlier today, how he’d felt something when you smiled or when you said something that made him laugh—it was all new. And for some reason, it made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t explain.

He should’ve been thinking about how much he missed Seoul, the chaos, the late nights, the parties. That’s what he was used to, what he craved. Busan was too quiet, too peaceful. Too… different. But with you, things felt different too. In a way he wasn’t sure he liked.

He could feel your absence even now, like the air was too empty without your voice, without your presence.

The clock on his phone blinked 2:16 AM. He stared at it for a moment, feeling the weight of the silence pressing down on him. He didn’t know why, but his thumb hovered over your contact.

He tapped your name before he could think twice.

The call rang twice before he heard you pick up.

“Yeah?” Your voice came through the phone, soft and clear, like nothing had happened. Like everything was normal.

For a moment, Heeseung couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He felt stupid for even calling. What did he want from you? Was it just loneliness? Or was it something else?

“I… Yeah. I don’t know why I called,” he admitted, his voice trailing off. “It’s late. I just… thought about you, I guess.”

His words felt like a confession, and it made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to this. Not used to admitting he’d been thinking about someone else. His mind was trying to make sense of it all, but nothing was fitting into place.

He didn’t wait for you to answer immediately. Instead, he let the silence stretch on for a few seconds, his heart racing in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge.

On the other end, you hadn’t spoken either. He could hear you breathing, the small, steady rhythm that felt so calm, so different from his own thoughts.

And that’s when he realized something. He didn’t want this silence to end. Not yet. Not when he was still trying to figure out why he felt so unsettled when it came to you.

“Are you still there?” Heeseung asked quietly, his voice barely a whisper.

You responded, your voice warm but tinged with confusion. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said, the words escaping before he could stop them. He sounded almost embarrassed. But the truth was, he didn’t. He didn’t know why he’d called, or why you were on his mind more than he cared to admit.

You didn’t say anything at first. Maybe you were still processing it, like he was. Or maybe you didn’t know how to respond. But after a few beats, you finally spoke again.

“I thought you said my voice was annoying,” you said lightly, teasing but not in a mean way. “What did you say I sounded like?”

Heeseung froze for a second, his mind flashing back to earlier when he had made that joke about your voice. Damn, he didn’t expect you to bring that up now.

He almost laughed, but it came out more like a groan. “I was just messing around,” he said, cutting you off. “It wasn’t like that. It’s just—”

Just what? He had no idea. He didn’t know why he was acting so awkward all of a sudden, or why he couldn’t just let himself relax when he was talking to you.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head even though you couldn’t see him. “I guess I just… wanted to hear your voice. That’s all.”

The words came out too easily, and for a moment, he regretted saying them. But something about it felt right too. It was true—he did want to hear your voice. He wanted to talk to you more. He just didn’t know what this was.

There was another long silence between you two, but it wasn’t awkward. Not really. Just… something else, something he couldn’t quite place.

After a while, Heeseung realized he couldn’t keep lying to himself about how he felt. There was something between you and him, something that was more than just friendship. More than just shared moments. And maybe that was what scared him the most.

But for now, he didn’t want to overthink it. He didn’t want to analyze the situation or try to make sense of something that didn’t need to be explained.

For once, he just wanted to hear your voice again.

The next day, Heeseung woke up to his phone buzzing, the bright morning light filtering through the blinds. The events of last night were still fresh in his mind—more than he cared to admit. He couldn’t stop thinking about that phone call. You were still on his mind, in that odd, unexpected way.

It wasn’t like him to care about someone like that. But here he was, wondering how your voice could be so easy to listen to, how something as small as a text or call from you could have him feeling all kinds of things he wasn’t prepared for.

He glanced at the clock—just after noon. Normally, he would still be in bed, lounging with no plans, letting the day slip by. But today, something was different. The thought of calling you felt like an impulse he couldn’t ignore anymore.

Before he could overthink it, he grabbed his phone and tapped on your contact.

It rang once. Twice.

“Hey,” he said when you picked up, his voice a little raspy. “It’s me.”

There was a brief pause before you answered. “Hey, you. What’s up? It’s still early for you.”

He rubbed his face, still half asleep. “Yeah, just woke up… couldn’t sleep last night.”

“Oh, really?” You sounded surprised, your voice light. “What kept you up?”

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back against the wall. “I don’t know… just stuff. Can’t really explain it.” He let out a soft sigh, realizing how little sense that made. “I’ve been thinking a lot.”

“About what?” you asked, and Heeseung could almost hear the curiosity in your voice.

He hesitated, unsure how to explain what was happening in his head. “I don’t really know. Just… things. It’s nothing. Whatever.” He waved his hand in the air as if you could see him through the phone.

“Okay…” you replied, then added, “So, what’s going on? You feeling alright?”

There was something about the way you said it, like you genuinely cared. And it made Heeseung uncomfortable, in the way that the truth always did. He scratched the back of his neck and exhaled, still unsure how to phrase it.

“I was wondering,” he started, voice trailing off. “If you, uh, wanted to hang out or something. I don’t know… like… do you want to get some coffee or whatever?”

There was a long pause on the other end, and Heeseung immediately regretted asking. He was being an idiot, right? Why would you want to spend time with him?

Then you spoke, your voice surprised, but also a little amused. “Wait, hold on. You… want to hang out with me? That’s a first.”

Heeseung’s face flushed slightly, a mix of annoyance and embarrassment creeping up on him. He rubbed his temple, trying to hide the fact that his heart had skipped a beat. “Yeah, yeah. I mean, it’s not a big deal. I just thought… I don’t know, it’d be cool.”

You chuckled softly, and Heeseung couldn’t tell if it was a good laugh or one of those teasing ones. But he didn’t mind, for some reason. “Alright, alright,” you said after a moment. “I’m down. I guess I’ll meet you in an hour at the park near the beach? We can grab some coffee afterward.”

Heeseung exhaled in relief, trying to hide the fact that he was more excited than he should’ve been. “Sounds good,” he said casually. “I’ll see you there.”

After ending the call, Heeseung leaned back against the wall, staring at his phone for a moment. That was easy, he thought. Why was he overthinking it so much? Hanging out with you didn’t feel as weird as he imagined.

As he moved to get ready, he realized that it didn’t matter what his reasons were. He just wanted to spend time with you.

So, maybe it was a first. But it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the beach. Heeseung and you had made your way down to the shore, where you laid out a picnic mat, the soft sound of waves crashing against the sand filling the air. The sky above was a clear canvas, fading into shades of pink and orange as the day began to wind down. It was peaceful, calming—everything that Seoul was not.

You sat cross-legged on the mat, your hair flowing in the breeze as you nibbled on some snacks you’d brought along. Heeseung had settled beside you, his eyes initially drawn to the vast horizon, but his gaze would inevitably return to you. You were so at ease, so calm. It felt different from anything he was used to back in Seoul. There, everything moved so fast—life was a blur of people, noise, and fleeting connections. But here, with you, there was something real. Something still and genuine.

Heeseung leaned back on his elbows, watching as you hummed lightly to yourself, your eyes lost in thought as you gazed at the ocean. The way you were so comfortable with everything around you, so familiar with the peace of this place, made him feel out of place. He shifted on the mat, moving a little closer to you, not really sure why. But something about you, about this town, felt like it was chipping away at his walls.

He cleared his throat, breaking the comfortable silence. “So, tell me, do you do this all the time? Come here and just… chill?”

You turned to him, a small smile on your lips. “Yeah, I guess so. Busan’s pretty laid-back. It’s kind of hard not to just enjoy the calm every now and then, right?”

Heeseung nodded, though his expression remained a little guarded. “I get it,” he muttered, his voice low. “It’s just… different, you know? I’m used to the noise, the chaos.”

You looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “And you don’t like it here?”

Heeseung hesitated for a moment before answering. “I don’t know. It’s just… too quiet sometimes.”

You chuckled, and for a moment, he felt like maybe he could let his guard down just a little. But then, without warning, his eyes caught yours, and there was something in the way you looked at him that made his heart skip a beat. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly found himself leaning in, just a little closer, and before he knew what was happening, his lips brushed against yours in a soft, sudden kiss.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t something he expected. It just… happened. And for that brief moment, everything around him—the ocean, the beach, the sun—faded away, and all he could focus on was you.

When he pulled away, he noticed the shock in your eyes. You were frozen for a moment, clearly caught off guard, and Heeseung’s heart dropped. What did that mean? Was it just an impulsive thing? Or something else? His mind raced, but he didn’t have time to process it before you stood up, your face flushed with surprise.

“I… I have to go,” you said quickly, your voice shaky as you took a few steps back. “I… I’ll see you later.”

Before Heeseung could say anything, you turned and started running down the beach, your footsteps quick and light on the sand. His breath caught in his throat as he watched you go, the confusion eating at him. What the hell just happened?

He sat there for a moment, staring after you. His heart was still pounding in his chest, and his mind was a blur of thoughts. What was that kiss? Why did it feel so… different from everything else in his life? And why did he feel like a total idiot?

He looked at the spot where you had been sitting, the picnic mat still partially sprawled out on the sand. The gentle breeze tugged at the corners, and Heeseung couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just shifted. He hadn’t expected to feel anything—especially not like this—but he did. And it left him feeling vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to.

After a few moments, he stood up, brushing the sand off his pants. His mind was still racing. Why did he kiss you? What was that about? And why did it feel like the world had suddenly gotten a little bit quieter, even after you’d left?

He stood still for a while longer, trying to make sense of everything, but there was no answer. Only the waves crashing in the distance, the soft sand under his feet, and the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him.

As the sun began to set, Heeseung couldn’t help but wonder if this would be the last time things felt simple. Maybe that was the way it always went with him—he was used to chaos, to distractions, to the fast-paced life of Seoul. But now, in this peaceful town, with you, things felt different. Too different. And it scared him.

It was another restless night. Heeseung lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, the familiar weight of uncertainty pressing on him. The thoughts wouldn’t stop. His mind kept replaying the moment you ran off from the beach after that kiss. The look on your face—shocked, confused, maybe even a little hurt—lingered in his mind. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. He didn’t plan it. But he couldn’t ignore the way his heart had raced the second his lips met yours, and how everything felt so… right, despite the chaos in his head.

He turned over, grabbing his phone from the nightstand, his thumb hovering over your contact. He wanted to hear your voice. He wanted to know if you were okay, if everything was alright after that awkward moment. He needed to know.

But when he hit the call button and waited, the phone rang… and rang… and rang.

He furrowed his brow, his thumb tapping impatiently on the screen. The ringing continued, and he frowned deeper. Normally, you always picked up. Even if it was late, you would answer, offering him some kind of comfort, even if it was just through a simple greeting.

But not tonight.

Heeseung bit his lip, frustration building in his chest. What if something happened? What if you were mad? What if something was wrong? Why wasn’t you picking up? You always did.

The silence in his room felt suffocating. The weight of his thoughts, his confusion, his stupid mistake on the beach all added up in the heavy silence. He couldn’t lie to himself. He was worried. Not just because of the kiss, but because the thought of you being upset—or worse, hurt—bothered him more than it should have.

The ringing stopped, and the voicemail greeting came on, the sound of your voice filling his ears. “Hey, it’s me. Leave a message!”

He didn’t even bother leaving a message. What could he say? He wasn’t sure what he was feeling himself.

He hung up abruptly, frustration bubbling up inside him.

Without thinking, he shoved his phone back into his pocket, threw off the covers, and got out of bed. He had to do something. He couldn’t just lie there, wondering, waiting for an answer that didn’t come.

He quietly slipped out of the room, careful not to wake up his grandmother, who was probably already fast asleep. The house was eerily quiet. His footsteps were muffled on the hardwood floor as he crept toward the door, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on him.

He was being ridiculous.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling in his chest, that gnawing, aching feeling that something was wrong. He didn’t know why he felt it, but he did. And now, standing outside in the cool night air, he found himself walking down the street toward where you lived.

It was late, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t just sit around. He couldn’t let his stupid feelings take over his head, especially not after he’d already messed things up.

As he walked, his mind raced. What if you were still angry? What if you didn’t want to see him? He clenched his fists at his sides, pushing those thoughts away. This wasn’t about that. This was about making sure you were okay. Because, damn it, he cared.

The streets of Busan were quiet, the only sounds being his footsteps and the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze. His heart pounded in his chest, and with each step, the feeling of anxiety grew. What the hell was he even doing?

When he finally reached your place, he paused at the gate, looking up at the dark windows. He felt like an idiot. But there he was, standing in front of your house, unsure of what to do next. Should he knock? Should he just go home?

The thought of just turning around and leaving made his stomach churn. He couldn’t. Not when he was this unsure of what was going on between you two.

With a deep breath, Heeseung made up his mind. He wasn’t going to leave until he knew you were okay. And that meant doing something he wasn’t used to: admitting that he cared.

He stood there for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. Should he just text you? No, he had to hear your voice. He had to know you were safe, that you weren’t upset, that you hadn’t disappeared from his life for good.

With one last glance at the still-dark windows, Heeseung walked up to the front door and stood there, his hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering if he was making a huge mistake. But, in that moment, the only thing he could think of was you. And the only thing he wanted was for you to be okay.

The soft creak of the door echoed through the night as you opened it, and Heeseung froze, his heartbeat louder than ever. You stood there in your side braids, eyes tired but wide awake, a sight he never thought he’d find himself looking at in the middle of the night. He was at a loss for words, but there you were, standing in front of him.

His mouth opened, but no words came out. It wasn’t until you broke the silence that Heeseung realized how much he had been holding back.

“I—” You started, your voice quiet but steady. “I’m sorry for… running off earlier. I just… overreacted.”

Heeseung blinked, caught off guard by how calm you sounded. He wanted to say something, but he just stood there, unsure of how to express himself.

You looked down for a moment, gathering your thoughts, then met his eyes again. “I’ve never kissed anyone before,” you admitted. “And I guess I wasn’t ready for it. It… kind of threw me off, but I shouldn’t have run away like that. I’m really sorry.”

Heeseung’s heart pounded. He could feel a weight lifting off his chest, but at the same time, the confusion remained. You… hadn’t kissed anyone? That made everything even more complicated. And yet, the way you spoke—so sincere, so vulnerable—only made him want to reach out to you more.

You hesitated. “I do feel the same way. I just… didn’t know how to react.”

The words hung in the air between you both. The same way. Heeseung’s chest tightened at the thought. He had been so confused about his feelings toward you, but hearing that, hearing you say you felt the same—it was like a dam breaking.

He stepped closer, his voice shaky but genuine, “It’s okay. I didn’t know how to handle it either. I… I wasn’t expecting this. But, I really like you. I do. I’ve never met anyone like you before.” His breath hitched as he continued, “You’re… pure. And beautiful. In a way that’s different from anything I’ve ever known.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and Heeseung could feel the weight of his words settling in the air. He had never said anything like that to anyone, especially not like this. But for some reason, it felt right. He had never felt this drawn to someone before.

You took a slow breath, processing what he said. The silence stretched between you, neither of you knowing exactly what to say next. Heeseung looked at you—really looked at you—and everything that had been swirling in his mind began to make sense. He didn’t know how he felt about being in Busan. He didn’t know how he felt about his past. But he knew, without a doubt, that right now, in this moment, you were the one thing he didn’t want to lose.

Finally, you spoke again, your voice soft and a little hesitant, but still sincere. “I… I guess that’s why I ran off earlier. I’ve never been in this situation before. You’re so… different from everyone I know. And it’s just… it’s scary, Heeseung.”

Heeseung’s heart clenched at the vulnerability in your voice. He didn’t expect this from you, and it made him admire you even more. You weren’t playing games; you were being real. And that, for some reason, scared him, too.

“I understand,” Heeseung murmured. “I really do.”

He stepped even closer, his hand slowly reaching for yours. For a brief moment, he was scared to make a move, but then, he couldn’t stop himself. “But I want to figure this out. With you. If you’ll let me.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, Heeseung was convinced you were going to back away. But then you nodded, your gaze softening as you looked at him.

“I’d like that,” you said quietly.

Heeseung smiled, his heart finally easing. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was something real. He didn’t know exactly where it would go, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he could breathe.

“I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You tilted your head slightly, your eyes still wide but soft. “Someone like me?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice steadying. “Someone... Different. In a good way.”

You blinked, the tiniest smile creeping onto your face as you looked at him. Heeseung didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. All the things he had been feeling, all the questions he had about why you mattered so much, all of it felt like it was making sense. And he didn’t want to let that go.

“I’ve never met anyone like you either,” you said softly, your voice almost shy now.

Heeseung felt a warmth spread through him at your words. This… this was unexpected. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he knew he didn’t want to lose this. He didn’t want to lose you.

There was another pause, and you cleared your throat. “So… do you wanna come in?”

He blinked at you, still in a daze from everything that had just happened. “Yeah. I… I’d like that.”

Heeseung stepped inside, his heart still racing from the conversation. The cool night air felt a lot warmer now, and everything around him seemed to fade into the background. All that mattered was that you were standing in front of him, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty—just as confused as he was, but somehow more composed. It was comforting and disorienting all at once.

You closed the door behind him with a soft click, and there was a brief silence as the two of you stood in the hallway, unsure of what to do next.

“So, uh,” Heeseung finally broke the silence, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “What now?”

You let out a small laugh, still standing near the door. “I’m… I’m not sure either. I wasn’t exactly expecting you to come here in the middle of the night.”

Heeseung smirked, but it wasn’t teasing this time. It was more of a nervous, unsure kind of smile. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting myself to either.”

The both of you fell into another pause, neither of you quite knowing how to fill the space. But, for once, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just… quiet. But a good kind of quiet.

You broke the silence once more, this time more seriously. “You know, I’ve never really been in a situation like this before. I mean, I don’t even know what this is exactly. But I can’t ignore how I feel either.”

Heeseung nodded slowly. “Same. I don’t know what to call this either. But I like it. I don’t know why, but I do.”

You looked at him, your eyes thoughtful. “I don’t think we need to figure it out right away. I’m still trying to figure out what I feel. But… I do like you, Heeseung.”

Heeseung felt something inside him soften at your words. He hadn’t been expecting to hear that. The uncertainty he had been carrying for so long seemed to melt away in that moment.

“I like you too,” he murmured, almost in disbelief. “I didn’t think I’d ever… feel this way. Especially not after everything I’ve been through.”

You smiled slightly, sensing the vulnerability in his voice. “What do you mean?”

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should share this side of himself. But something about you made him feel like he could. “Back home in Seoul, I never really connected with anyone like this. I’ve always been surrounded by people, but it was… shallow. I never really let anyone in. But with you… it’s different. You make me feel like I’m not just some… guy passing through.”

Your expression softened, and you stepped closer to him. “I think you’re more than that. You just have to let yourself see it.”

Heeseung couldn’t help but stare at you, his heart beating a little faster. “I never thought anyone would say that to me. Especially not you.”

“Well, now you know,” you said with a soft, teasing smile.

Heeseung felt a lump form in his throat. It was strange—he had never felt this way before, so exposed. But there was something about you that made him feel safe, even when everything else felt uncertain.

Without thinking, he took another step closer to you, his gaze locked on yours. “I want to be someone you can rely on. I don’t know what the future holds, but… I want to try.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Heeseung wasn’t thinking about what he had left behind in Seoul, or how much he missed his old life. He was thinking about you, about this moment, about how much he wanted to make it last.

You smiled softly, your eyes reflecting something he couldn’t quite place. “We’ll figure it out together, Heeseung.”

And in that moment, he knew that whatever happened, he wasn’t alone anymore.

It had been a few days since everything changed between Heeseung and you. The late-night calls, the stolen kisses, and the soft, lingering moments shared in the quiet of Busan. Things had settled into a routine, though it was a new kind of routine neither of you had expected. Heeseung had slowly started warming up to the idea of being with you, and you—well, you were finding yourself getting more comfortable with him every day, even if you still got flustered by the smallest things.

Heeseung had invited you over to his room, a casual invitation that made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t expected it, but you couldn’t turn it down. And here you were, standing in front of him, holding a bowl of instant ramen, the steam rising and filling the air with a comforting, familiar scent.

“Ramen again?” Heeseung asked with a small smile, clearly amused. “You’ve got a thing for this stuff, huh?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You’re the one who loves it. Don’t act like I’m the only one obsessed here.”

Heeseung chuckled and gestured for you to sit on his bed. You did so, placing the bowl of ramen in your hands, while Heeseung sat beside you. His eyes immediately found their way to you, and you could feel his gaze on you.

“What?” you asked, trying to brush it off, though you felt a flutter in your stomach from the way he was looking at you.

Heeseung didn’t immediately reply. He just stared at you, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re just so pretty right now.”

Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you quickly covered your face with your hands, trying to hide the warmth spreading across your skin. “I—stop it,” you stammered, your voice soft.

Heeseung gently took your hands in his, pulling them away from your face. His touch was light, almost teasing as he said, “Move them. Let me see your face.”

You hesitated for a moment, but when he didn’t let go, you slowly lowered your hands. The way he was looking at you made your heart race. He was so close, and you could feel the heat between you both.

“So cute,” he added, his voice low and sincere. The word made your heart skip another beat, and you couldn’t help but look away, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

“Stop it,” you mumbled, trying to hide the embarrassment you felt.

Heeseung just smiled, his gaze still soft but undeniably affectionate. He leaned in slightly, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I mean it, though. You really are.”

Your heart fluttered, your hands still in his, and you couldn’t help but smile. There was something about the way he made you feel—something that made you forget about all the awkwardness you usually felt around guys, something that made you feel special in a way you never had before.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you finally said, your voice quieter, more confident now that you weren’t so embarrassed by his words.

Heeseung smirked, leaning back against the bed with a playful gleam in his eyes. “Well, I’m glad you think so. But I think you might be biased.”

You shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m still right.”

Heeseung chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re really something else, Y/n.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, laughing quietly, the comfortable silence stretching between you. But in that silence, something was shifting again. Something you both had begun to recognize but hadn’t quite put into words yet.

“I still can’t believe you told your grandma about us,” you teased, trying to shift the focus to something else to avoid getting lost in the intensity of the moment.

Heeseung groaned, his face reddening slightly. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

You grinned, nudging him with your elbow. “Nope. But she was cute about it, though.”

“Cute? She was totally shocked! She started teasing me right away.”

“Well, I’m sure she’s happy for you,” you said, your smile softening as you spoke. “She seems like she knows what’s best for you.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung said, his tone quiet, more thoughtful now. “I think she does.”

As the night wore on, the two of you fell into a quiet rhythm, sharing food, talking about everything and nothing, and just enjoying each other’s company. Heeseung had started to open up in a way he hadn’t before, and even though he still had his moments of being cold and distant, you could see the change in him.

And maybe—just maybe—you were starting to realize that you didn’t need all the answers right away. You didn’t need to label this, to rush into figuring out what was between you. All you needed was to enjoy the moments you had with him.

And, for once, that felt enough.

You didn’t notice how close he was until you felt his hand on your thigh, gently moving it up and down. Your heart skipped a beat at the gesture, and you looked up at him. His gaze was intense, his eyes fixated on you.

He leaned in a little closer, his face just inches away from yours. “Y/n,” he whispered, his voice low and rough.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart racing. You couldn’t look away from him, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible.

Heeseung moved even closer, his hand still on your thigh, his touch causing goose bumps to form on your skin. His breath was warm against your cheek as he spoke. “Can I…?”

You didn’t need him to finish the question to know what he was asking, but you still nodded, your heart racing even faster. He leaned in even more, his hand still on your thigh, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

And then, he kissed you.

It was soft, tentative at first—his lips lightly brushing against yours. And then, he deepened the kiss, his hand on your thigh moving to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you melted into the kiss, your own hands reaching up to touch him, your fingers running through his hair.

The world seemed to fall away as you two kissed, the intensity between you growing stronger with each passing second. Heeseung’s arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly against him, and you couldn’t help but lean into him, craving the closeness.

The kiss slowed as he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes were still fixed on you, and you could see the mix of tenderness and desire in his gaze.

“Y/n,” he whispered your name, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze, your heart fluttering at his confession. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest.

He kissed you again, a little harder this time, his hands moving to your hips, lifting you onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back with equal fervor.

As the kiss deepened, Heeseung’s hands began to roam, exploring your body, his touch leaving a trail of heat on your skin. His fingers found the hem of your shirt, creeping under it, his touch feather-light yet leaving you breathless.

You gasped at the feel of his hands on your bare skin, and the sound only made Heeseung deepen the kiss further. His hands continued their journey up your sides, tracing the curves of your body and leaving you wanting more.

Finally, Heeseung broke the kiss, taking a moment to catch his breath. He rested his forehead against yours once more, his hands still on your waist, his grip firm but gentle.

He looked at you, his eyes searching your face, as if memorizing every detail. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice tinged with amazement and desire.

Heeseung's hand stayed on your thigh, his touch growing bolder as he raised an eyebrow, tugging on your shirt.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind swirling with anticipation and nervousness. You knew what he was asking, and the fact that he was asking instead of assuming made your heart flutter even more.

You nodded, giving him a small, shaky smile. "Yeah...go ahead."

His hand moved slowly, leaving your thigh and making its way to the hem of your shirt. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending tingles up your spine. He looked at you, his eyes seeking permission, and you nodded again, your breath catching in your throat.

Heiseung lifted the hem of your shirt, his hands exploring the newly exposed skin. His touch was light, his eyes tracing the curves and lines of your body.

You couldn't help yourself, your fingers tugging on the fabric of his shirt, a desperate, silent plea.

Heeseung chuckled lowly, that sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Eager, are we?" he teased.

His hands stilled as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of mockery and desire. But then he shrugged off his shirt, his muscles flexing as he discarded it on the floor.

You couldn't help but stare at his bare chest, the sight of him taking your breath away. His skin was golden in the low light, the planes of his chest and abdominal muscles well-defined and sculpted.

Heeseung caught you staring, a smirk on his face. "See something you like?" he teased, his voice low and rough.

You blushed, trying to look away but finding yourself unable to. Your fingers itched to touch him, to explore the smooth skin of his chest. You could feel the heat radiating from him, drawing you closer.

"Shut up," you pout, your voice barely above a whisper. "You know I do."

Heeseung's smirk widened as he leaned in closer, his gaze fixed on you. "Is that so?" he said, the teasing edge in his voice causing your cheeks to heat up even more.

Before you could answer, he pulled you in closer, pressing soft trail of kisses onto your neck. “Oh god, Hee-“ you sighed as you tilted your head to give him better access.

Heeseung's mouth found a sensitive spot on your neck, and you couldn't help but sigh again. "Mmm," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot.

His hands were on your waist, pulling you even closer to him. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his body pressed against yours as he continued to kiss and nibble at your neck.

Feeling the tension between you growing, an uncontrollable need started building up inside you, like an itch begging to be scratched.

Heeseung's mouth was still on your neck, his kisses becoming more urgent, his hands still firmly holding your waist.

Unable to resist, you started moving, your hips grinding against him, trying to ease the tension. You could hear his breath catch as you moved, and he pulled away from your neck to look at you.

“Fuck,” he groaned into your ear as he leaned his head against the headboard. “Y/n I’m going to cum like this if you keep moving like this.”

You felt your cheeks getting hot, not realizing the effect you had on him. “I-I’m sorry,” you replied sheepishly, looking down. “It’s my first time and—“

“No, no,” he interrupted as he tilts your chin back up. “Hey, look at me. You’re doing great.”

Heeseung’s eyes were intense as he looked at you, the desire in them only growing stronger. "Don’t apologize," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "It’s perfect, you’re perfect. Just keep going. I want to feel you."

His words were like an electric shock through your body, your skin tingling all over. You couldn’t help but shiver at the intensity in his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest.

Heeseung leaned in again, his gaze still intense as he closed the distance between your lips. This time, the kiss was urgent and needy, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that mirrored your own.

Your bodies were pressed hard against against each other, the heat between you growing even hotter. Your hands were in his hair, fingers tugging at the soft strands, while his hands were on your hips, holding you tightly against him.

Heeseung’s hands moved to your back, his fingers trailing up your spine, leaving a trail of heat as they went. They found the clasp of your bra, his touch gentle but sure as he unclips it. He pulled back for just a moment, his eyes locking with yours, as if asking permission.

You felt exposed under his gaze but nodded, your breath hitching in your throat as he slid the straps of your bra down your arms, discarding it on the floor.

Heeseung's eyes darkened as he looked at you, his teeth biting down on his lower lip. You could feel his arousal growing stronger, his body tensing under your touch.

His hands started roaming, one hand moving up your back, the other tracing down your side to your hip. He pulled you closer, his breath hot against your skin as he moved his lips to your throat, leaving a trail of kisses down to your collarbone.

Heeseung's hand moved down to your chest, his touch light but possessive as he gently squeezed your tits, his palm cupping it. His fingers started to move in slow, circular motions, as he took in your reaction. His gaze darkened with desire as he watched the way you responded to his touch, his expression stoic but his eyes alive with heat.

You could feel the tension building like a coiled spring, the need for more growing with each passing moment. You looked up at him, your gaze heavy-lidded and filled with desire.

"Heeseung," you murmured, your voice a little breathless. "Please...I want-"

Heeseung silenced you with a kiss, his lips covering yours in an urgent, heated kiss. He understood what you wanted, and he was more than willing to give it to you.

He kissed you deeply, his tongue seeking yours, as his hand continued to move over your boobs, gently squeezing and teasing your sensitive skin.

Heeseung gently pushed you onto the bed, his body hovering over you, his eyes locked on yours. He was taking control, and you were more than willing to let him.

He leaned down, his lips finding your neck again as his hands started to move, skimming down your sides, tracing the curves of your body. You felt him reach the hem of your skirt, his fingers teasing at the edge.

He looked at you, his eyes smoldering, asking permission once again.

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation, your breath coming in short gasps. Heeseung smirked, his fingers slipping under the hem of your skirt, slowly pulling it up off your legs, the cool air hitting your skin making you shiver.

As the skirt came off, Heeseung’s hand lingered on your thigh, his touch light but possessive. He looked at you again, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every inch of you.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Heeseung please,” you whined, and that was all he needed as he pushed your panties aside, shoving in two of his fingers inside your core, making you let out a loud moan.

Your hands gripped the bedsheets, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. “Hee- feels so good,” you said shakily. He smirks at your reaction, but focused more on your pleasure. “Yeah? Do you want me to add another?” He replied, his voice lowered.

"Yes," you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Heeseung, I want more."

He didn't hesitate, inserting another finger with ease. The motion was so fluid, it sent a shiver down your spine. "You feel so wet for me," he murmured, his voice dark with desire. He pressed closer to you, his body hot against yours, as he continued to move his fingers inside you.

As he moved his fingers, he kept searching for that one spot inside of you - the one that would make your body quiver and shake with pleasure. He curled his fingers, sliding them in and out of you, searching for that one spot inside you that would make you cry out in pleasure.

With every movement, he was getting closer and closer to finding it. "Relax," he whispered, "let me make you feel good."

He slowly withdrew his fingers, his gaze fixed on you as he replaced them with his mouth. He started with gentle kisses, his lips moving over your skin, making you shiver in anticipation.

And then his tongue replaced his fingers, slipping inside of you, exploring you with practiced ease. He knew what he was doing, and it was driving you wild. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the muscles in his back tenses.

You covered your mouth with your hand as you looked at Heeseung in between your legs. Something you never thought was possible. “I’m so close,” you whimpered, bucking your hips up unintentionally.

He didn’t stop, if anything his pace quickened, his hands gripping your thighs. “Cum for me baby,” he said, his voice was low and rough. He locked eyes with you, his gaze filled with so much desire it was hard to look away.

You could feel your body coiling tighter and tighter. He knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say, and it was too much. “Please Heeseung,” you pleaded, your head falling back onto the pillows. “Please I can’t-“

“Yes you can princess,” he murmured, giving you just enough friction to drive you wild without quite sending you over the edge. He continued working you with single-minded intensity, his mouth and hands working in the perfect sync to bring you to the very edge.

“H-hee, please no more, c-can’t take it anymore...” you stuttered, your body arching off the bed as your fingers tightened in heeseung’s hair. His mouth, a warm, wet heaven between your legs, his tongue moving in fast, deliberate circles that drive you closer to the edge. But your pleas fall on deaf ears, a smirk playing on his lips as he pulls away just long enough to let your trembling thighs fall apart once more.

Your skin is flushed and sticky with sweat, your heart racing as he kissed the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of pecks that makes you shiver. “you can take it, baby, you know you can,” he praised, the sound of his voice sending another shockwave through your body. you want to argue, but all that comes out is a whine as his mouth finds your clit again, sucking gently.

His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, the pressure just shy of painful. Your muscles clench around his fingers, which are buried deep within you, moving in a rhythm that matches his mouth. It is overwhelming, the sensation of being so close to the peak again, especially when your body is so sensitive from your lack of experience. Your toes curl into the bedsheets, and you bite down on your lower lip, trying to stifle the moan that wants to escape.

He paused, looking up at you with those bambi eyes. “Moan for me, baby. I wanna hear how much you love this,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. your cheeks burn with a mix of pleasure and embarrassment, but you nod, feeling the heat of his gaze on you.

His mouth returned to your clit, his tongue flicking against it rapidly. your eyes roll back in your head and had you seeing stars. You can't help but let out a high pitched moan. he chuckles against your sensitive folds, the vibration sending sparks of sensation shooting through you. Your hips rock upward, seeking more, but he keeps his rhythm, not giving you the full force you crave just yet.

His fingers inside you started to move faster, curling and stroking, hitting that spot deep within you that makes your legs quiver. you moaned louder now, unable to hold it back. your hands tighten in his hair, urging him closer, but he's unfazed, maintaining his relentless pace. “Please, yes, right there,” you panted, your voice hoarse from all the moaning and begging.

His eyes locked onto yours, the smirk on his face growing wider. “you look so beautiful like this,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. Your heart swells with love for him, making the pleasure he’s giving you even more intense. He added a third finger, stretching you just enough to make you gasp. Your body starts to tremble uncontrollably, the tension coiling tighter with every passing moment.

You felt the orgasm building again. your nails dig into his scalp, the pain mixing with the pleasure. Heeseung’s eyes darken with desire as he watches your reaction, his own breathing heavy and ragged. he knows he's pushing you to the edge, and it only spurs him on. Your moans become more frequent, filling the room with the sweet sound of your release.

His tongue presses harder against your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you with a fervent pace. your body starts to convulse, muscles tightening around his fingers. The pressure builds, and just when you think you can't take anymore, it hits. with a cry, you squirt all over his face, the warm liquid spilling out of you. his eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t miss a beat, lapping it up eagerly. Embarrassment hit as you realize what you had just done, but fades with ease as he handled it nonchalantly. The feeling is so intense, you can't help but thrash on the bed, your legs shaking uncontrollably.

Your eyes popped open, watching him with a mix of shock and arousal. “Yes, baby, so good,” he murmured, his voice muffled by your folds. your chest heaves with every breath you take, your heart hammering in your ears. he licks you clean, his movements slowing as your orgasm subsides. then, he looks up, his nose and chin covered in your juices.

His eyes sparkle with mischief and satisfaction. “you taste so good,” he said, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. the sight of him like that, so raw and hungry for you, sends a fresh wave of desire through your body. you can’t help but feel a bit smug, knowing you’ve driven him to this point.

"You make me insane, you know that?" he murmured, his voice rough. "I can't get enough of you." He leaned down, his body heat melding with yours, his arms caging you in. his lips found yours again, and the kiss was hot and needy, a reflection of the hunger that was still coursing through him.

Heeseung smirked, his gaze fixed on you. "You're doing so good for your first, you know?" he said, his voice thick with desire. You look away from him, muttering “no I’m not,” but you know that hes right. In one fluid motion, he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them off, his boxers following suit.

He was now totally naked in front of you, and the sight was enough to take your breath away. His body was toned and muscular. Every contour and dip and ridge seemed perfectly defined. Every inch of him was beautiful. He then opened his side table drawer and pulled out the box of condoms. “I told you I’d have use of them somehow,” he smirked while you scoffed in disbelief.

He laughs at your reaction as he positions his cock in front of your leaking pussy. He could see your hands gripping on the sheets as his cock is already half way in. “Heeseung-“ you whimpered, your breath shaken.

"Just relax," he whispered, his voice soft now. "I'll go slow. I want you to feel good, okay?" He was being tender, his eyes fixed on your every expression.

He moved slowly, his hands on your hips to help guide him deeper into you. Inch by inch, he filled you, the stretch sending waves of pleasure through you. He paused for a moment, giving you time to adjust to the sensation. His eyes never strayed away from you.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he murmured, his voice strained. You could hear the need in his words, the sheer effort it took for him to hold back. You knew he was trying to be careful, trying to be gentle, but you could feel the hunger in him, the need to take you, to claim you.

“Relax for me, baby. I’ve got you.” He leaned down, his mouth finding your neck, his lips trailing kisses across your skin. He nipped and sucked just below your ear, knowing exactly the effect he had on you.

His hand slowly reached down, finding your clit, and he started rubbing small, soft circles that set your body on fire. His mouth moved lower, his lips tracing a trail across your collarbone, then your chest, finding your nipple and swirling his tongue around it. “I'm gonna make you feel so good,” he promised, his voice muffled against your skin. His words sent a shiver down your spine, the promise in them making your heart race.

You looked up at him, your body trembling with pleasure, and managed to say through uneven breaths. "Please... I.. I can't take it anymore."

He felt your body relax under his touch, and he knew you were ready for more. His eyes darkened with lust as he looked down at you. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “Want me to fuck you harder like the slut you are?”

You could only nod, your words failing you. He didn't wait for a verbal response, his body already in motion, his grip on your hips firm and possessive. He began a steady rhythm, his thrusts growing faster and rougher with each passing minute. “You like it like this, don't you?” he murmured against your skin, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “You like letting me fill your virgin cunt up?” The ways he’s saying it makes you whimper. You’ve never seen him like this.

Loud and rhythmic, the wet slapping noises filled the room, punctuating every movement with a sharp slap. It was the only sound that broke the deep silence, except for the occasional gasp or whimper from inside the room.

You could feel the tension building, the coil in your belly wound so tight it was almost painful. Heeseung’s breaths were coming in short, quick gasps, his rhythm growing more and more irregular. “You close, princess?”

You could only nod again, your words failing you once more. He knew he was close too, the tension and need in him palpable. "Cum for me, baby," he murmured, his lips right against your ear. "I want to hear you."

That was all it took, the sound of his voice so close, the dirty words in your ear. You felt the coil snap inside you, pleasure exploding through you, so intense you couldn't help but cry out.

He followed you over the edge, his body rigid as he came, his grip on you tight. He panted in your ear, trying to catch his breath.

"You did so good y/n," he murmured, his voice rough.

"Yeah?" you replied, your voice soft and shaky. "You really think so?" You looked at him, your cheeks flushed, your eyes wide and vulnerable.

He leaned in, giving you a deep, deep kiss. It was tender and loving, his lips moving slowly against yours. He held you tight, cradling your face gently in his hands.

"Of course," he whispered when he finally pulled away, his eyes fixed on you. "you were perfect."

You woke up to the soft glow of the morning sun slipping through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the room. Your body felt heavy, warm from sleep, but something else made you freeze. A weight beside you. Slow, steady breathing.

Your heart pounded.

Heeseung.

The realization hit you all at once.

Carefully, you turned your head, barely daring to move. He was lying next to you, his bare shoulders peeking out from beneath the sheets, his messy hair falling into his face. His features were relaxed, peaceful—so different from the teasing smirks and sharp remarks you were used to.

Heat rushed to your face as last night replayed in your mind. The way his lips felt against yours, the way he touched you like you were the only thing that mattered. The way you had wanted him just as much.

Oh god.

What were you supposed to do now?

Your fingers clutched the blanket, pulling it up higher as if that could somehow shield you from reality. You had never been in this situation before—waking up beside someone like this. Did you get up and leave? Pretend to still be asleep? Say something?

Before you could decide, Heeseung shifted beside you, his breathing changing. A few seconds later, his eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep as they landed on you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, a lazy smirk tugged at his lips. “Morning.”

Your throat felt dry. “Morning.”

A beat of silence.

“You look like you’re about to freak out,” he murmured, his voice rough from sleep.

“I—I’m not,” you lied, though your stiff posture said otherwise.

Heeseung chuckled, rubbing his eyes before looking at you again, his gaze softer now. “Regretting it?”

You swallowed hard, lips parting, but no words came out. Did you regret it? No. But did you know what to do now? Also no.

Seeing your hesitation, Heeseung sighed, propping himself up on his elbow. “Relax. It’s just me.”

That was the problem. It was him. Heeseung, the guy you never thought you’d fall for, yet somehow had.

“I just…” you hesitated, finally meeting his gaze. “I don’t know what happens now.”

Heeseung studied you for a moment before reaching out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. The casual intimacy of it sent a shiver down your spine.

“We do whatever we want,” he said simply. “No pressure.”

No pressure.

You exhaled slowly, nodding. Maybe this didn’t have to be so terrifying.

Heeseung grinned, dropping back onto the pillow. “Good. Now come back here, ‘cause I’m not ready to get up yet.”

You hesitated, but when he tugged you closer, you let yourself relax—just a little—letting the warmth between you melt away the uncertainty.

As Heeseung lay beside you, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t shake the confusion settling in his chest.

He liked you. That much was obvious. The way he looked for you in every crowd, the way his mood instantly lifted whenever you were around, the way he always found himself wanting to call you late at night just to hear your voice.

But how did this happen? How did he, a guy who once lived for parties, hook-ups, and never staying in one place too long, end up here—in bed with someone like you?

You were his complete opposite.

Soft-spoken. Kind. Pure.

The kind of person who spent their time helping others, who believed in soulmates, who didn’t just give their heart away to anyone.

So how the hell did someone like you fall for someone like him?

Heeseung turned his head slightly, watching as you stared at the sheets, lost in your own thoughts. Your fingers fidgeted with the blanket, lips pressed together in that way you always did when you were nervous.

Were you regretting this?

The thought made something twist in his chest.

Because for the first time in his life, Heeseung didn’t want this to be just another night he could forget.

And that scared him.

His whole life, he had avoided anything that tied him down. Commitment, feelings, relationships—it all seemed pointless to him. But now, here you were, tangled up in his sheets, making him question everything.

His gaze drifted down to where your bare shoulder peeked from beneath the blanket. The marks he had left on your skin were still there, proof that last night had been real. Proof that you were his, even if just for a moment.

You shifted slightly, and he tore his eyes away before you could catch him staring.

“…What are you thinking about?” your voice was soft, hesitant.

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his messy hair. “Honestly? Trying to figure out how the hell we ended up here.”

You let out a small laugh, but there was uncertainty in your eyes. “Yeah… me too.”

Silence settled between you.

And then, before he could stop himself, Heeseung muttered, “But I do know one thing.”

You looked at him, waiting.

He hesitated, feeling almost stupid for admitting it. But screw it.

“I like you,” he said, voice quieter now. “A lot.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and for a second, he thought maybe he had said the wrong thing. But then, slowly, your lips curled into the softest smile.

“I like you too, Heeseung.”

And just like that, some of the confusion faded.

Because maybe, even if it didn’t make sense, this—whatever it was between you—was real.

Heeseung never thought he’d say it, but as he lay there beside you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on your wrist, the words slipped out before he could even think them through.

“Maybe I’ll stay in Busan.”

You blinked, turning your head to face him, eyes searching his as if you weren’t sure if he was joking.

“You?” you asked, almost in disbelief. “Stay here?”

Heeseung huffed a quiet laugh, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I know. Sounds crazy, right?”

You didn’t say anything, just watched him carefully, waiting for him to continue.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know… I used to hate it here. It was too quiet, too slow, too different from Seoul. I thought I’d lose my mind if I had to stay any longer.”

He turned his head, meeting your gaze.

“But then I met you.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you still didn’t say anything.

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “And now… I don’t know. Maybe quiet isn’t so bad. Maybe different isn’t so bad. Maybe—” He hesitated. “Maybe I don’t want to leave anymore.”

The weight of his words hung between you, and for the first time in a long time, Heeseung wasn’t scared of what came next.

Days passed, and something between you and Heeseung settled into place. It wasn’t just fleeting glances or hesitant touches anymore. It was real—comfortable, yet exhilarating in a way neither of you had expected.

Heeseung still missed Seoul sometimes, but not in the same way. The urge to escape had faded. Busan, once dull and suffocating, now felt different. Warmer. Brighter. And he knew it had everything to do with you.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in soft oranges and purples, you both sat on the beach, side by side. The waves crashed gently, the breeze cool against your skin.

“You ever think about what would’ve happened if we never met?” you asked, hugging your knees to your chest.

Heeseung glanced at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I’d probably still be a spoiled asshole waiting to run back to Seoul.”

You laughed softly. “And now?”

Heeseung was quiet for a moment before exhaling through his nose. “Now… I don’t know. But I know I don’t regret staying.”

Your heart swelled at his words. Heeseung wasn’t someone who opened up easily, but the fact that he was here—choosing this, choosing you—meant everything.

He turned to face you fully, his expression softer than you’d ever seen. “You changed things for me,” he admitted. “I don’t know how, but you did.”

You met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes making your breath hitch.

“You changed things for me, too,” you whispered.

Heeseung leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was steady, certain.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, a lazy grin on his face. “Guess that means I’m stuck here now, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. “Guess so.”

And for the first time in a long time, Heeseung wasn’t looking for a way out. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

Heeseung had only planned to be in Seoul for a couple of days—just enough time to grab some of his things. But the moment he stepped foot back in the city, something felt off.

It was the same as always—fast, loud, and chaotic. The neon lights of the clubs still flickered, the streets were still packed with people looking for a good time, and his phone buzzed with texts from old friends asking if he was back for good.

A few months ago, he would’ve thrown himself right back into it. He would’ve called up a few people, gotten drunk until the sun rose, and woken up with a headache and no memory of the night before.

But now? He just felt… disconnected.

Walking past the places he used to love—the bars, the high-end restaurants, the luxury stores—he realized something. This had been his whole world, but it didn’t feel like home anymore.

Busan was quiet. Peaceful. Boring, he used to think.

But it had you.

And for some reason, that made all the difference.

Before heading back, he stopped by one of the luxury boutiques he used to frequent. The staff recognized him instantly, greeting him with polished smiles.

“Mr. Lee! It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, barely paying attention as he browsed the shelves.

He didn’t even know what he was looking for at first—just something nice for you. You never asked for anything, which only made him want to give you everything.

After some time, he settled on a delicate gold necklace, a designer handbag, and a few other things. Any other girl he knew would’ve gone crazy for them.

Satisfied, he paid without thinking twice. Money had never been an issue for him.

But you—you were about to prove to him just how different you really were.

When Heeseung finally returned to Busan, he was exhausted from the trip, but instead of going home to rest, he went straight to your place.

He knocked, and a few seconds later, you opened the door, eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “You’re back!”

“Missed me already, baby?” he teased, smirking.

Your face flushed at the nickname, but you rolled your eyes. “You wish.”

He chuckled, stepping inside and handing you a few bags. “Got you something.”

You blinked, looking down at them, then back up at him. “You… got me something?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged like it was nothing. “Just open it.”

You hesitated before peeking inside, pulling out the small jewelry box first. When you flipped it open, a delicate gold necklace shimmered in the light.

“Heeseung…” you breathed, staring at it in disbelief. Then you looked inside the other bags, finding an expensive handbag and a few other luxury accessories.

Your stomach twisted.

“This is… this is too much,” you finally said.

He frowned, tilting his head. “What do you mean?”

You set the bags down gently, chewing on your lip. “I mean, these are beautiful, and I really appreciate it, but… I can’t accept them.”

He let out a short laugh, confused. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t need expensive things to be happy,” you said simply, pushing the bags back toward him. “You didn’t have to do this.”

For a moment, he just stared at you.

Any other girl would’ve squealed, thrown their arms around him, maybe posted about it online. But you? You weren’t impressed.

“You really don’t want them?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

You gave him a soft smile. “I just think there are better things to spend money on.”

Heeseung blinked, completely taken aback.

Then, unexpectedly, he started laughing. Not out of mockery, but pure disbelief.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “No, I just don’t think money is everything.”

Heeseung studied you, his amusement slowly fading into something more serious.

He had spent his whole life surrounded by people who only cared about status, wealth, and what he could offer them. People who stuck around when it was convenient.

But you… you weren’t like that.

You weren’t impressed by designer bags or expensive gifts. You weren’t drawn to him for his money.

You just liked him. For him.

And for the first time in his life, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—he had been chasing all the wrong things.

He exhaled, shaking his head with a small smirk. “You’re really something else, Y/n.”

You laughed softly, nudging his arm. “Guess you’ll just have to get used to it.”

Heeseung looked at you—really looked at you.

Maybe he would get used to it.

Maybe he didn’t mind the idea of staying in Busan a little while longer.

A few days had passed since Heeseung returned from Seoul, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you had turned down his gifts so easily.

Most girls he had been with would’ve taken them without a second thought. They would’ve kissed him, called him the best boyfriend ever, maybe even hinted at what else they wanted next.

But you? You looked almost uncomfortable, like you hated the idea of him spending so much on you.

And for some reason, that drove him insane.

Now, as he lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, he felt that familiar urge again.

I should call her.

It had become a habit—late-night calls with you, staying up until you were barely keeping your eyes open. A dangerous habit, but one he wasn’t willing to break.

Just as he reached for his phone, a knock at his door made him groan. He was about to ignore it when his grandma’s voice called out.

“Heeseung, dear, someone’s here for you!”

Frowning, he sat up. Who the hell would be here this late?

Dragging himself out of bed, he ran a hand through his messy hair before heading toward the door. And when he opened it, he was surprised to see you.

Holding a plastic bag.

“You… brought ramen again?” Heeseung blinked.

You nodded, looking almost shy. “You didn’t eat yet, right?”

Heeseung stared at you, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “You worried about me, princess?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Just take the food, Heeseung.”

“Come inside,” he said, stepping back to let you in.

You hesitated for only a second before walking in, making your way to the kitchen like you had done so many times before.

Heeseung leaned against the counter, watching as you pulled out the ramen packets. You always moved so effortlessly in his house, as if you belonged here.

Shit. That was a dangerous thought.

“Why do you keep bringing me food?” Heeseung asked, crossing his arms.

You paused, then shrugged. “I just… want to make sure you’re eating properly.”

Heeseung scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re weird, you know that?”

You smiled, unfazed. “I’ve been told.”

As you started boiling the water, Heeseung found himself staring again.

The way the light from the kitchen made your skin glow. The way your fingers worked so delicately, even when handling something as simple as instant ramen.

It wasn’t the first time he thought you looked beautiful. But every time, it hit him like a damn train.

“You’re staring,” you said suddenly, not even looking up.

Heeseung smirked. “You’re just so pretty right now.”

Your cheeks burned. “Heeseung—”

“Seriously.” He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me wanna stay.”

Your breath hitched.

And just like that, Heeseung knew—

He didn’t just want to stay.

He needed to.

🏷️ @tender-is-the-moon @nithxhoon @gvtdoll @kayjiguki @yagsoobin @nesquikluvr @swytstars @cloud-lyy @m1kkso @isagistar @clandestineself @honestlyatomicpanda @immelissaaa @ikeuwoniee @dearestdreamies @jakessrealwife @lannadray @punchbug9-blog @kittympirty @getoxo @heeseungissm @mheretoreadff @highway-143 @starcandybby @evorlaah

[moesthoughts]

hear me out... smut with post!crash nat who sees her ex girlfriend at a club with her new bf and nat doesn't like that at all, and takes it upon herself to show up on readers doorstep later that night and remind her who she "belongs to" so to say

(this may or may not have been heavily influenced by like i would by zayn LMAOO)

ೃ࿔ one way or another

After getting rescued from the crash you wanted a new life, a blank slate. You distanced yourself from everyone, moved to the city, and even got a new boyfriend. One year after you were rescued, you and your boyfriend went to the club, you would never guess your ex girlfriend would be paying you a visit after.

pairing 𝜗𝜚 natalie scatorccio x fem reader

warnings 𝜗𝜚 angst, stalker nat lowk, addiction, drug mentions, cheating, smut with plot, fingering, cunnilingus r! receiving, overstimulation, praise kink

The club has always been overwhelming, the strobe lights that give you the biggest headache, the music that drummed against your ears, the heat from the amount of bodies, it sucks. Which is why Nat is sat at the bar, sipping on a cold glass of gin. She came alone, just how she likes it. Small talk with the bartender is all she needs, other than that she enjoys her alone time. Tonight feels different though, the alcohol doesn’t taste the same and the music isn’t as annoying as she remembers. A new DJ? Maybe that is for the better. Nat sets the glass down at the table and pushes it towards the bartender, muttering “put it on my tab”, for the fifth time this week, a broken promise, she won’t pay it till they personally knock at her door.

Nat is planning on leaving, well, she was. Until her eyes land on a familiar figure, she recognizes that body shape from anywhere. That hair, even if it’s grown a little different overtime, that style of clothing you never can seem to let go of, the shape of your nose, the dark red lipstick you wore to every party before that stupid crash, and most importantly that smile that kept her sane during the time in the wilderness. She stops in her tracks, it’s like time froze around her. Everyone around you is moving slow, all the colorful lights illuminate you, and some man beside you. Nat instantly clutches her hands into fists as she watches his hands grab your waist as you grind on him, he could just be some random guy at the club, and you’re really drunk. Her hopes are false once again as you turn around and wrap your arms around his neck, your lips interlocking with his. She swears she reads “i love you”, from your lips.

It makes her sick, but she can’t stop watching. You look so fucking beautiful with your makeup and hair done, that short dress that hugs your ass so well. You’re her ex girlfriend, you broke things off with her in the hospital after the crash, she still feels that sting in her heart every time you come across her mind. Now she has to watch you kiss this random dude with a big smile on your face. Nat presses her lips together, and finally pushes herself to leave. But she doesn’t, she sits in her car, lighting a blunt and smoking it, waiting for you and your boy toy to leave. She sinks into her seat once she spots you and your boyfriend get into a car, and leave. She starts up hers and follows soon after.

You live surprisingly close to the club, Nat wonders if you’ve been there at the same time and she didn’t notice your presence. Her eyes follow you as you walk to your apartment, open the door and enter it. She curses under her breath and presses her forehead against the steering wheel, contemplating her decisions. She’s already getting high, and stalked you all the way home. She figures she should finish the blunt, you’ll notice right away anyway. That same dizzy feeling graces her as she smokes, her brain becoming foggy, and her worries disappearing like her dignity. She opens her car door and drops the blunt on the ground, stomping it out. She stumbles over to your door, and knocks on it without hesitation.

You open the door, unknowing of who’s waiting on the other side to meet you. Nat relishes the sight of your eyes widening, the cute gasp that falls out of those pretty lips. She also observes how you aren’t slamming the door in her face, your eyes glued on her face, with that same thick eyeliner, lined lips, just with different hair. A sort of twisted smile plays on her face. She’s obviously under some influence, she’s swaying side to side when she’s standing still, her eyes look irritated and red. You sigh and grip the edge of your wooden door.

“Hey, pretty.”

Nat breathes the nickname that used to make you weak in the knees. She gawks at the sight of you up close, that tight dress, those familiar hips, your makeup that she wants to remove using her lips, she takes a small breath to compose herself. Unlike you, about to throw up at the sight of Natalie fucking Scatorccio, even if you made such a great effort to disappear from the rest of the survivors. Though, somewhere inside of you, you’re happy that it’s her and not anyone else. You take a glance into your apartment and step out, closing the door slightly.

“Nat— I.. how did you find me?”

Nat rolls her eyes and peeks into the small opening into your apartment, she doesn’t see any movement, she ponders if your boyfriend is even home. You seem so nervous, like you’re about to throw up at any moment. Some sick feeling inside of her likes that, she enjoys seeing you shrink because of her presence, akin to how she felt after that day in the hospital. You’re sweaty, nervous, you feel like you’re about to puke. The gut wrenching anxiety doesn’t leave you at all, you can only stare at her in awe, somewhere inside of you knows she won’t give you a straight answer.

“What? ‘Your boyfriend home, or something?”

She sneers, a toothy smile coming on her face, the dimples that you loved so much adorning her. You can only glimpse away, not wanting to melt at the sight. Nat takes a step towards you, and you don’t make an effort to move. Something comforts you about her presence here, like she is a missing piece to the puzzle you’ve been meaning to solve for over a year. She’s so familiar, unlike your boyfriend. He’s new, not the same as her.

“I— No. I’m alone.”

You stammer, embarrassingly. Nat chuckles lowly, causing you to sink even more into yourself. Her mood slowly changes as she watches you become more nervous, and detached. She softens up, feels bad for dumping herself on your doorstep all of a sudden, it has to be late, at least 2 am in the morning. She reeks of weed, blabbering drunkenly, she drags a hand over her face and averts eye contact.

“Listen— I’m here because of that guy, are you even happy? I mean— A dude? I thought you were into girls.”

She hits a weak point in your heart, and she was dead right with her words. You don’t even like your boyfriend, maybe only the thought of having someone that enjoys you. You purse your lips, trying not to let those pesky tears roll down your cheeks. Nat’s hand rests on your hip, you can only stare at it. She continues when you don’t pull away from her touch. Her other hand travels to your hips as well, pressing you against the door, making it creak slightly open.

“I don’t even know— Nat. I’m gonna be honest with you.”

“It’s okay baby, you remember who can actually make you feel good, right? Let me take care of you..”

You push the door open and drag Nat into your apartment, bringing her into a desperate kiss. She returns it instantly, kicking the door shut with her heavy boot. She paws at your waist like she’s trying to remember how you feel against her hands, that smooth fabric rubbing against her palms encourages her. Your fingers already tangle themselves in that familiar hair texture, the color darker than you recall it being. She moans into your mouth as you pull on her roots, your tongue plunges into her mouth, not bothering to explore, you already know your way around. You guide her towards your couch and fall onto it, taking her down with you. Nat breaks the kiss to catch her breath. She cherishes the sight of you being disheveled, your smeared lipstick that stains your chin now, your eyeliner slightly running down your pink cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful.. just how I remember.”

Nat’s voice is husky, you whimper as she bites down on your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin. You both missed this, each other’s lips, hands, everything. Your fingers hook under her shirt, she pulls away from you so you can slide it off with ease. She’s wearing a red bra, not the same one, but a lacey one that shaped her chest so well it has you drooling. Nat smirks and unclips her bra, before you can speak she attaches herself back onto your neck. Your grope her, relishing the whimper that vibrates through your neck. She wants to devour you, keep you in her grasp forever. She won’t let you worm out of her life again, she’ll give you a reason to stay and leave that boyfriend of yours.

“Such a pretty girl, I want you all to myself.”

Nat murmurs against your skin as she works your dress down your body. You don’t even have a bra on, small black underwear is all that covers you after she discards your dress somewhere in the room. Her teeth graze your chest while her hands smooth over your now exposed skin, nails digging into the softest parts. She worships your body, she missed how you feel against her palms, how you shiver whenever she caresses you. You realize how much you’ve needed Nat, how your boyfriend couldn’t compare to how she appreciates you as a whole. No boy has made you feel this good, or paid any mind to your pleasure but his own. She rolls your nipple around with her tongue and hikes down your panties, you’re already so wet and she hasn’t even touched near your core. You feel her gasp against your skin as she touches your soaked cunt, she pushes herself up to see you fully. A muttered “fuck” falls out of her lips as she circles your clit with her finger, obsessing over the way you’re already rolling your hips into her touch.

“Shit, you’re so wet.”

She barely speaks over a whisper, you arch your back into her fingers as she pushes them inside of you. Nat’s lips part, she forgot how good you feel around her. Slowly she starts pumping her fingers, moans spill from your mouth shamelessly. She remembers those nights in her hut, her fingers drowning in your pussy, how you’d cover your mouth so nobody could hear you both, she’d whimper like she was actually fucking you. She never got rid of that habit, panting like a dog while she ruins you. She curls her digits in the right spots that make you mewl, how she presses her thumb on your clit makes your toes curl.

“Such a good girl for me, just like that pretty.”

That nickname almost sends you over the edge, your hand wraps around her arm, you almost feel bad for your neighbors, you both have never been this noisy. You missed each other, you want Nat to know how much you’ve been needing her, and she can’t help herself from the noises that come from her mouth. You start approaching your high, that knot in your stomach tightening, threatening to burst. She notices instantly, and picks up her pace, rolling her thumb around your clit and pumping in and out of you relentlessly. It doesn’t take long for you to cum around her fingers, stammering out her name in pure bliss. What you don’t expect is her lowering herself down to your sensitive cunt, and licking up the juices, rolling her tongue around your clit instead.

“Wait— Nat.. Not yet—“

“Please, just one more for me, that’s all.”

And you can’t say know to her, all you can do is whimper as she laps your wetness up. It stings, but feels so good. You grind into her mouth, already feeling like you’ll burst again. Nat wastes no time and slides her tongue into your cunt, fucking you with a pace that gradually brings you over the edge. Her nails dig into your thighs, her tongue working on undoing you. You cum instantly, whining from the overstimulation. She cleans you up with her tongue as best as she can, but she stops when your voice starts getting shaky. Nat wipes her mouth while looking at you, tears stinging your eyes. You slowly sit up and bring her into a kiss, it’s hungry, still that same desperation you two had at the beginning. Your fingers graze her jawline in a way that has her melting under your touch.

“God, I missed you.”

You murmur into her lips, your hand putting the right amount of pressure on her back. She pulls away from you and presses her forehead against yours. Memories from the crash flood your mind, but they’re nice ones, the ones that remind you that Nat is someone you can rely on.

“Why don’t we run you a bath?”

“Only if you join me.”

Okay so i’ve been wanting to write for post crash nat for SO LOMG thank you anon🤍🤍🤍 HEARING U OUT ANYDAY

req me!

masterlist

[kabr0ztrousers]

Love your work, new fan but big fan, I have an Idea for a centaur x fem criminal story

Basically she has a bounty on her head and can't go through the city gates to escape, a centaur offers her a way out, but she has to be strapped to his underbelly while he wears a centaur sized robe/coat/whatever to get past the guards.

Also she has to take her armor off so theres no sound of chainmail to give them away, so she's totally nude under there, nothing between her bare pussy and the centaurs cock. Which was exactly what the centaur wanted all along ;3

Kabr0z Writes episode 51: Daring Escape

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: dubcon; noncon; size difference; belly-riding; creampie; implied impregnation; cum inflation

A/N: This one looks like fun! I always love a centaur being involved, especially when I can make them as downright unpleasant as Hellenic myth depicts them.

They're meanies.

#####################################

The job went near flawlessly. You broke into the castle, cased the joint, got to the war room and learned which routes the army would be travelling. Once the rebellion gets that, they'll have the King by the balls and finally turn the tide. One problem: they saw your face on the way out. Now you're here, in a stinking cistern, propping up a thieves' guild bar. A head full of priceless intel, that you can't risk getting out, only a dwindling handful of copper to your name, and no way out of the city gates.

You could try sneaking out over a wall, but the wards would stop that short. Maybe try sneaking into a grain carriage? You shook your head, no faster way to get a spear thrust through you. You motioned for another drink. You're dead if you stay, dead if you try to leave. You might as well be dead with a bellyful of whatever pigswill grog they serve here.

A man sat on the stool next to you and spoke "Ever heard of the Wizard Porthos?"

The sign, you knew the response "He rules over Doissetep"

The man nodded, and got up. A piece of parchment lay where he was sat. You palmed it, casually finished your drink and went to an alcove, looking like just another drunk going for a piss.

The light was horrible here, but the enchanted ink glowed ever so subtly: "Seek the hunter under the moon"

You had another round, then left the cistern. It was already night out, but this wasn't the moon you needed. Picking your way across the city you found it. The temple of Luna. Empty at this time of night but for a figure, shrouded in dark. You slid through the door, chainmail clinking gently as you padded in on soft-soled shoes. Your turn to speak this time. "Ever heard of the Wizard Porthos?"

The figure rose. A centaur, the shape of a bow slung across his broad back. "He rules over Doissetep"

You relaxed. Either this centaur was in the resistance, or the whole operation had huge problems

"I hear you need a hand getting out of the city? I'll help, but it won't be easy, or particularly dignified"

You nodded at the centaur. What could you do but hear him out?

"I have a sealskin, when the weather looks bad I wear it. It comes down to about my knees"

You could see where this was going "So you strap me to your belly, and we just walk out?" It was genius in its way. Centaurs hate passengers at the best of times, so checking underneath one's cloak for a fugitive just seems silly. Hopefully the guards would have the same thought process, and even if they didn't, you'd have a four hoofed companion to help run you out of danger.

"One snag though. I heard your armour when you walked in, that'll only be worse when you're under me. I can get it smuggled out separately, but it won't be on you."

"I didn't exactly bring a change of clothes" you weren't supposed to be in the city more than a couple of hours, so luggage wasn't a consideration, besides, travelling light made more sense in the wilderness.

"So you'll be naked. Suck it up, Buttercup. And get some sleep, you've got a big day tomorrow."

You couldn't afford not to take his offer. Laying down next to him, you got as much rest as you could.

It was raining the next morning, the cold predawn light seeping in through the windows. The man from the cistern was there, carrying several loops of rope, a hessian sack and a sealskin. Everything you'd need.

You started to strip. Months in the resistance had beaten any bashfulness out of you, and so you didn't mind the two men seeing your naked body. You could still feel their eyes on you, your boyish hips, slim waist, small tits, not to mention your long, muscular limbs. You glared at them as you stood in the chilly air, feeling your nipples harden in the cold as they started fastening ropes around the centaur's chestnut-furred torso

At last it was time for the finishing touches. You, then the sealskin to hide everything.

"Face up or down?" The cistern man looked over at you "I reckon down, it's a little less comfortable on the limbs, but you won't have a faceful of fur."

You nodded. You've never done this before, but if smuggling resistance members was these people's trade, they probably knew that they're about. Climbing under the centaur you allowed yourself to be tied into place.

The ropes were rough, and itched as they strung around you. Your arms were bound backwards, bent to follow the contours of the equine body, your legs open and lifted behind you, knees bent and ankles secured above. The rest of you was held on with loops of rope, keeping you tight to the centaur and taking some weight off your limbs.

Finally came the sealskin. It hid you entirely, padding disguising your silhouette and the skirts preventing you seeing anything but the flagstones below you.

You heard the cistern man say something to the centaur, but couldn't hear what. They both laughed then the centaur started to walk. He wasn't wrong about your armour. Even trussed up as tight as you were to the horse belly, you were being fiercely shaken. Chain would have been so noisy you might as well have given yourself up.

So you watched the cobbles pass below you. The sound of the rain echoing in your ears as it got heavier. At least you were staying dry under here.

You noticed something. Hanging down from between the centaur's back legs. You stifled a gasp to look at it, his huge semi-hard member dangling down. It swung to and fro with the movement of the trotting centaur, occasionally rearing up to be perilously close to your vulnerable crotch. You could smell it. The warm, tangy scent of his unsheathed member invading your nostrils, moistening your lower lips. It wasn't going down. It gathered length with every swing.

It swung up, pressing against your cunt. Again and again. It pressed hard against the entrance. You felt yourself moving, the centaur was shaking himself, shimmying you down. The expertly tied knots allowing you to slide towards his crotch, cinching tighter and stopping you going the other way. Little by little the flare of his cock was pressing harder and harder against your opening, the steady trickle of precum lubing your hole.

It went in. You stifled a yelp. Who knows what was around you, alerting a guard would be lethal.

Still, the shaking pressed you down. Inch by inch the cock pushing in, your cunt not having a choice but to accept it. You bit your tongue, desperate to stay silent as the cock twitched and pulsed in you. You could feel the flare on the end growing, pressing outwards inside you.

The centaur's chest tightened. His cock stiffened and his hips bucked. Hot liquid started flowing into you in waves. The flare held it in as your womb filled. He stayed hard. You could feel it stuck in you. The flare was receding, but the thickness of it let the cum inside.

You shuddered, the feeling of fullness was sending waves of pleasure up your body. The taste of blood filled your mouth as you bit down harder, cutting your tongue on your teeth, desperately trying not to moan.

Voices "Off out today, are we?"

"Hunting. I expect to be back before nightfall"

"Damn poor weather for it"

The cock pulsed in you again. You clenched your body against the urge to moan

"Best time for it. Scent doesn't travel as well in the rain"

"Very well. Wait here."

Another twitch of your cunt, another throb of that cock. Every time you moved, it moved. Every time it moved, your cunt clenched on it. You could feel your eager body trying to milk the huge cock inside you, even as you desperately tried to think of something, anything else.

You ran over the battle plans in your head. The cock throbbed, and you couldn't focus. You planned your travel once you got away. The centaur shuddered, and your thoughts became phallic. You tried to remember the faces of your family back home. Your cunt clenched. The flare surged outwards. Again, cum flowed into you. You felt your skin stretching. The cock plugging you stopped it flowing out. Your belly grew slightly, over-full of hot equine cum.

The centaur's orgasm passed, and the flare receded again. He still wasn't moving, waiting as the guards checked and double checked his papers.

You could feel your belly pushing, trying to force the excess cum out. It was going to start leaking out, if it pooled on the ground, the guards might check under the sealskin.

You didn't have a choice.

You clenched your jaw. Squeezing your cunt as tightly as you could, you rocked your hips. You could hear yourself starting to pant with exertion, you hoped the guards couldn't over the rain. You felt the cock throb and twitch in you, but it had already came twice. It was in danger of going soft, pulling out as it did. You couldn't let that happen.

You quickened your pace, rolling your hips up and down, clenching strategically. You fucked him hard, rubbing the engorged head of his cock against your cervix. His back hoof was clopping on the ground. You could feel his cock thicken. It was nearly there. The flare expanded again

"All in order, you can go"

The centaur staggered on. Steps as regular as he could manage while riding the cusp of pumping another load into you. The cobbles gave way to dirt path. You heard him grunt loudly above you.

He came less this time, but it was still enough to push your belly out further. You allowed yourself a moan, taking deep, racking breaths as the last of the centaur's cum was forced in.

On he walked, the cock softening and dropping out, followed by a jet of cum pouring from your cunt. It left a trail on the road behind you, a thick puddle on the already sodden ground

You made it to the rendezvous with the man from the cistern, who cut your ropes.

You fell to the muddy ground. Limbs tingling as feeling returned.

"She give you any trouble?"

"No" the centaur replied "she knew what was good for her, even got desperate enough for it to get me off all on her own"

They laughed as they walked off together. You lay there, oozing. Your kit was piled in the grass next to you, probably minus whatever money you had.

At least you got out

####################################

As we approach the end of February and volume 1 of Kabr0z Writes, I remind you all that commissions are free and open, just be aware there is a queue, so it may be some time until you see your request.

Most people send requests anonymously, so do feel free to send as many as you like! (I'm also loving how many people are sending in requests for bad things to happen to the Chitinids. I'm so happy I've made villains people love to hate ♥️)

[stevebabey]

you're the only one for me, baby

1.7k, steddie, one of them getting so drunk that they don't recognise the other and telling them back off i've already got a boyfriend, it's all sweetness <3 likely a modern!au and actually just goobers in love

Eddie doesn't really drink. He's not against partying but he's much more attuned to smoking a little weed to take the edge off, sometimes a spliff if he wants to mix a little business and pleasure.

Eddie doesn't really drink—so when he does, it goes about as well as expected.

From zero to a hundred.

Steve had lost track of him after directing his stumbling feet towards the bathroom to take a leak. But apparently, as he's now found out, this bathroom has two doors.

What the fuck kind of bathroom has two doors, like some weird thoroughfare?

Regardless, it took all of five minutes with no noises coming from the inside before Steve had loudly announced he was coming in, no matter what, getting quite worried for his boyfriend.

He trusted Eddie to not be too sloshed to handle a piss, even if he was on the wilder side tonight, but still leaned up against the door to chase off anyone else looking to knock—because Eddie hilariously gets pee-shy.

The door had opened easily, apparently unlocked, and Steve had stepped into the empty bathroom. The other door across the room, the one he hadn't noticed until now, was wide open to the party.

So, now he's on the hunt for Eddie.

Which is a task that feels a little bit like herding cats because drunk Eddie isn't something Steve has a lot of experience with. But what he does know, is this: it's the opposite of high Eddie.

Stoned, Eddie likes to find the comfiest place he can (usually Steve's lap, or so he proclaims) and sink into it, like melting wax. Then, given he has access to adequate snacks, he doesn't move for quite some time.

Drunken Eddie cannot even fathom the concept of sitting still.

Either way, looking where there's food is a good as a place to start as any.

Steve ambles out the strange two-doored bathroom and flips his head back and forth, trying to remember the direction of the kitchen. He hasn't been here before—one of Eddie's band connections—and Steve's still had a couple beers himself.

He shakes his head and takes a left, relieved when it leads to the stairs. Okay, he sort of knows where he's going now. They had only come upstairs to find the quieter bathroom for Eddie.

As Steve reaches the bottom of the stairs, a faint stir of irritation flashes through him. Eddie just left him behind? That wasn't that nice, even if he was incredibly drunk.

He can hear the din of people chattering just above the music and he follows it, leading him into the half-full kitchen, people dotted around. There's a few pizza boxes scattered around and Steve eyes each of them specifically, looking for the tell-tale wipe of Eddie's greasy fingers. No dice.

Steve wrinkles his nose, spinning around and double checking before he moves on.

If not by the food, then... where?

Steve takes a few steps forward into the living room, his heart beginning to sink and shrivel all at once. There was a miserable feeling attached to looking for his partners at a party, a wallowing and awful memory tied to the feeling.

Steve pushes a hand across his chest roughly, as if trying to shove the feeling away.

Eddie wasn't... her. Eddie wouldn't do that.

But the moment he's thought it, it's stuck in his head. Steve's feet begin to speed up, checking a little more carelessly as he starts to stick his head in different rooms, his hazel eyes jumping around. Not Eddie, not Eddie, not Eddie—so many people and none of them are Eddie.

Until—there. Steve spots a very familiar looking behind as it leans over the back of the couch, the owner of said-behind talking to someone sitting on the couch.

He blinks, just to be sure, but the details come into better focus. There's chains on his belt loops and when he shakes his head, Steve can see the curls he loves to bury his hands into.

Eddie.

Steve's relief pulls him forward, his feet almost stumbling, his mouth pulling into a relieved smile. He puts a hand out, fingers spread, across the leather-clad back.

"Eds," Steve says, relief colouring his voice.

Eddie swings up abruptly, pushing himself off the couch. When he turns, a bit of liquid sloshes out of the beer bottle he's holding.

"Heyyy," The words come out a bit slurred and when he finally stands straight, he doesn't look right at Steve. "Handsssss off the merchandise, buddy."

Steve chuckles, reaching out and plucking the bottle from his boyfriend's grasp. Eddie gawps, an adorable little hiccup interrupting his shocked expression.

"Hey," He says loudly, reaching forward for it fruitlessly as Steve pulls it out reach. "That's mine." Eddie whines.

"You've had more than enough, I think." Steve says. He steals just one gulp of it before he turns at puts it on a nearby table. When he turns back, Eddie is frowning at him, brows pulled together tightly and bottom lip jutting out.

"Listen—" Eddie leans forward, jabbing a finger into Steve's chest. "I dunnowhoyouthinkyouare," The words come out in a one big jumble and Steve frowns.

What? Something sour claws into Steve's chest at the frosty greeting.

"Eddie," Steve says, his hazel eyes wide and worried as his gaze darts between Eddie's squinted face and swaying form.

Steve reaches out to put a hand on his waist, aiming to steady him, but Eddie sees it coming and widens his eyes comically. He swerves back to avoid it, his boots tilting dangerously on the wooden floors. If he was still holding his beer, Steve bets half of it would be on the floor by now.

"Wo-oah," Eddie exaggerates, waving a hand out and batting Steve's outstretched arm away. The rottenness in Steve's chest blooms, rancid and freezing. He sucks in a sharp breath.

"Ed—"

"I—" Eddie says, holding up his hand and waggling one finger at Steve, like he's a naughty schoolboy. His words still have that drunken slur to them.

"—already have a boyfriend, thank you very much. He's much too pretty to be throwing it away for the likes of you, you weasel of a man..." His ludicrous and nonsensical insult trails off under his breath as Eddie's attention is drawn away by a shout across the room.

As he watches Eddie drape himself back over the couch, the sourness between Steve's ribs shifts, transforming into something infinitely sweeter. He lets out a dazed laugh, a wild smile spreading on his face before he can smother it beneath his hand.

I'm dating a lunatic, Steve thinks happily.

He reaches out and steals Eddie's beer once more, taking another large swig before giving it another go.

This time, he sidles up beside Eddie who's engaged back in conversation with one of the guys on the couch, and just waits. It only takes a minute before the dude on the couch seems to realise who Steve's waiting for and he nudges Eddie, gesturing behind him.

Eddie, still bent over the back of the couch, twists only his head to look. This time, the recognition is immediate.

He springs up, pushing the couch forward an inch in his excitement and leaps forward, his hands clawing into Steve's shoulder with a fierce delight.

"Steeeeve," Eddie croons, crowding in close. His hands start moving, fingers searching like curious spiders, fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin of Steve's neck til he's squirming back, laughter betraying him.

"Stop it." He laughs. Steve arrests Eddie's wrists in his hand and Eddie cackles, using the pause to surge forward, kissing him square on the mouth.

Eddie tastes like the beer he's been drinking and Steve barely gets a moment to enjoy it before Eddie's pulling back, leaning forward so they're forehead to forehead.

"I was looking for you." Eddie says, his doe eyes wide. His pupils grow larger the longer he stares at Steve.

Steve grins. "Uh huh. Looking for me between the couch cushions, were you?"

Eddie rears back, his head flipping as he stares back at the couch and then back at Steve. "Nuh uh. I came out the bathroom and you were goooone."

That explains it. Eddie must have left out the other door — and then thought Steve had left him behind and gone hunting for him. Something else settles in Steve's chest, relieved.

"And—" Eddie hiccups. "—and some guy tried to- to freakin' flirt with me. Can you believeee?"

Steve's grin widens by a mile. "Is that so? What you'd tell him?"

"No, of course!" Eddie says, head pulled back as if he's appalled Steve would think otherwise. He shakes his hands out of Steve's grip and drops them, fumbling for a moment to get his fingers into Steve's belt loops.

When he does, he yanks Steve forward a tad too forcefully, their bodies colliding in a way that's more sore than sexy. Eddie continues on as if he doesn't notice. "Even if he was particularly tasty," He murmurs, his lips tracing the column of Steve's throat.

"I let him know, baby." Eddie all but purrs.

And perhaps if the competition Eddie was beating off was literally anyone other than himself, Steve would be right there with him.

Instead, he can't contain his snort of laughter. Eddie was perfect; he was a possessive and drunken dog, barking up the wrong damn tree. Steve loves him.

"You're laughing," Eddie states plainly, even as his doe eyes manage to grow even more round. Steve can't help it, it just makes him laugh more.

"Treason." Eddie declares. Then using the belt loops to keep Steve captive, he leans in and blows a raspberry on his neck.

Steve lets out an unattractive squawk, his laughter melting into Eddie's as he pushes his boyfriend's face away — to which Eddie simply lets himself go limp, his face cradled and held up solely by Steve's hands.

"Christ," Steve says between his laughs, shifting his hand to hold him more tenderly. Eddie smiles dopely, then puckers his lips and closes his eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes, entirely too endeared. "Alright, c'mere," He gives in, leaning and kissing Eddie, short and sweet. When he pulls back, Eddie's eyes are open, starry and gazing up at him. He gives a dreamy sounding sigh. Steve's heart fizzles, like it's full of pop-rocks.

"Ready to go?"

"As long as it's with you, baby." Eddie says, sounding every bit like he means it.

[frostyresolve]

a lottie little too much ꒰ ᝬ brant

he gets drunk and decides to battle a bunch of lottie losts for your favor. 1.2k words. suggestive, fluff.

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧

he stumbles up to you, dancing on his feet as his boots touch the wooden floorboards. he won’t deny that he’s had a few drinks too many, his vision hazy as he surveys the troupe, glasses clinking and beer sloshing in cups at the celebration of a performance well done. even through the haze, he singles out you.

he calls out to you, leaning against the tabletop for balance. “you like the little rabbit things?” BRANT huffs, words incoherent somewhat as they tumble out of his mouth. they’re adorable, you can’t deny. especially the lottie lost in front of you playing the accordion; they’re quiet and compassionate echoes, more so than the ones you’ve encountered in the wilderness.

“they’re sweethearts,” you point out with a small smile, clearly taken by their cute mannerisms, the rabbit echoes clambering for your attention as they tried to outdo each other. what’s so special about them anyway? sure they could play instruments well enough, but they weren’t prodigies. how could you find them more interesting than him when they could only say two words?

he never should have suggested having echoes perform alongside the show if it meant every single drop of your attention would be spent on them and not him.

he practically growls, envy bubbling inside him. "just rabbit echoes... but they're cute... and you're petting them...”

“pet me... i’m cute too... i’m the captain." he hiccups, a hint of petulance in his voice.

scowling, his expression morphs into a mix of drunken annoyance and wounded pride. the sight of you lavishing attention on the bunny echoes was starting to get under his skin. you’re caught off guard as he clumsily climbs onto your lap, his body heavy against yours. his legs hooked around your hips as his arms grip your waist tightly, the sweet smell of alcohol lingering on his skin. "mmm...much better..." he hums, nuzzling his face into your neck. he clumsily tries to mimic the rabbit's voice.

"lottie lost, lottie lost…" he speaks suddenly, his words coming out slightly slurred and far from cute. there’s a pause, your gaze locked onto BRANT along with the other lottie lost rabbits who freeze at his words. he’s probably saying something atrocious in their language, but he can’t be bothered to care, staggering over to you and clinging onto you as he tries to imitate the echoes. he tries his best to mimic the rabbits again, his words barely understandable.

“lottie…lottie lost…” he keeps repeating in a sloppy manner, gripping your arm in his drunken stupor. the lottie losts continue to stare at him with their button eyes, their confusion growing with each attempt. it was probably coming off more like drunken babble than cute mimicry.

“what’re you doing?” you ask in confusion as his arms wrap around your waist. you can practically smell the alcohol wafting off him, the rich scent of aged grapes clinging onto his clothes. he never settled for anything but the finest wine after all, even if it left him with a hole in his pocket.

“lottie lost.” a rabbit calls in an attempt to attract your attention back as it waves its arms at you, probably craving your applause and validation.

you can feel his grip tighten around you, drunken logic taking over. he didn't like that you were paying attention to the rabbit echoes when he was right there, and in his state, he chooses to make the irrational decision to try even harder.

the words came out as a slurred mess, anything but similar to what a lottie lost would sound like. if the rabbits could make facial expressions, they’d probably be grimacing at the foul words leaving his mouth. “lottie... lost..." he mutters, his head drooping onto your shoulder. "need hugs... from you... not them..."

you’re not sure what else to do, trying to register the sight before your eyes, so you decide to state the obvious. “you’re drunk; how many bottles did you have?”

“mmm, not drunk…” he sings against your shoulder, his fingers clutching onto you with an iron grip. “a lottie lot. always drunk on you.”

he lifts his head, amethyst eyes hazy and unfocused. BRANT sees you clearly, though, clearer than any blue sky and brighter than any gem he’s ever encountered. “you’re... pretty. prettier than the rabbits. much prettier... and tastier. you taste better.” he slurs drunkenly, his words coming out without a second thought. you know he’s too far gone by now by what he’s spewing out without a care.

“a lottie lot…” you repeat in confusion; his words are merging, every sentence leaving his lips twisted with the name of those damned rabbits.

his face crinkles in confusion as you repeat the words back to him. his mind is too fuzzy with drunkenness to grasp what he’s said, and he just stares at you for a moment before breaking into a hiccupping laugh.

"lottie... lost count..." he repeats, chuckling as he leans heavily against you. his hand continues to roam your skin aimlessly, touch warm and lazy, heat radiating off his skin with each brush of his thumb on your cheek.

that’s when his lips brush against yours briefly, giving you any time to react. you’re stunned speechless when he pulls away, about to speak up, but the only sound leaving your mouth is a shocked gasp. his tongue dips into the hollow of your throat as he nuzzles his face closer into your shoulder.

he seems to take notice of your reaction, and so he responds by peppering more kisses along your neck, whatever he’s saying becoming more of a muffled hum against your skin. his hand on your back begins to explore more, trailing up your spine, before eventually resting on the back of your head, gently tilting it to the side to give himself more access to every expanse of your skin BRANT could find. x marks the spot where his mouth and teeth sink into your neck.

“can you walk?” you whisper, feeling your cheeks heat up as you clear your throat awkwardly when he finally pauses to catch his breath. he pulls away in a daze, swaying on your lap, holding onto you for dear life like you were anchoring him.

it seems like you’ve gotten your answer as his hand slips on the edge of the table, and he faceplants onto the deck of the ship unceremoniously when he tries to get up from your lap. curse you for letting him drink himself silly, not that he wasn’t silly before. his head hits the bottom of the table, letting out a whine as he rubs the side of his forehead before he practically crawls back to you.

you’ve never wanted to jump off the plank so much in your life.

“carry lottie…cuddles…” he coos, looking at you through half-lidded eyes as his body practically drapes over yours like a cape, causing you to stagger at the sudden weight pressing against you. he’s absolutely lost it; he’ll get teased in the morning when his hangover hits like an anchor crashing down onto him. he tugs on your sleeve, warm breath ghosting your neck, moist lips stained with wine trailing sticky kisses all over your exposed skin. if he were sober, he’d probably ask politely instead of gnawing at you like a dreadwolf. his balance is totally off-kilter, stumbling with each step as you make your way to his quarters.

maybe this was what BRANT wanted all along. for you to drag him back to his room. he’s not letting you leave soon, pulling you in the direction of his quarters when you open the door along with him.

he wants you to tumble right into his bed, right where you belong, to keep your captain lottie lost company.

© FROSTYRESOLVE 2025. DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REUPLOAD OR FEED MY WORKS INTO AI

[luludeluluramblings]

Hey, so I was imagining something like this: the reader is a kid who was just adopted by Bruce, but she comes from a city that makes Gotham seem like the safest place in the world, and the Batfamily is constantly shocked at how calmly she can handle the criminals on the streets. 10 points if she's a particularly small and fragile-looking kid, but she's simply not afraid to walk around the dark alleys of the city recklessly.

I like to write Reader’s that didn’t grow up in a large city because feral redneck child reader with zero situational awareness and no fear is fun.

I totally imagine the Bat family always exasperatingly chasing after them.

Dragging them back from standing on the edge of a curb because a car is about to clip their dumbass.

Yelling at them to get off the light pole and climbing in places they shouldn’t. (Really they don’t mind, but you can’t be doing that turning the day in public. They’ll blow their identity if they try to climb up after you)

Do not use the sticks from the park to build a hut by your favorite treat place. In fact, please, don’t play survival wilderness in the park. Please.

Not being scared of gun shots because you used to have drunk redneck neighbors that would shoot beer cans off their back porch at random hours. (Sometimes they’d let you join. Sometimes they missed the cans.)

Scary alleyway? You got lost snipe hunting in the woods on a moonless night while getting chased by something in the woods. It was a squirrel. Any fear of the dark has been silly since.

Someone being gruesomely murdered? You watched a guy get his head blown off by a homemade fire work, and you had been in the splash zone.

Someone threatening you? You were not afraid the play dirty and stap someone in the back of the knee with a plastic shank that you Jerry rigged with something you found in the dumpster.

(The family is amazed at what you manage to accomplish with aluminum cans, duct tape, baking soda, and a broken hot glue gun.)

Now, the family loves you because 85% you’re just happy to be there with them. Letting them tote you around. But, when feral mode hits, they’re having to struggle a bit.

[little-miss-apple]

jealous hard hot steamy rough sex??? 😫😫😫😫

((oh hell yeah! obvious CW// for jealous and rough sex. probably lots of mistakes bc it's almost 4am and I did not reread to check so bear with me.. also did not do the fancy coloured words for now bc its a pain in the butt... also this takes place at a time where they are aware of their own and eachothers feelings but arent "exclusive" yet, just to clarify))

It is no secret that you love getting a rise out of Caleb. It's not often that you get to see his carefully curated persona crack. Even when he's upset, he's not one to raise his voice against you.

But today you did it. You made him loose his temper. And now he's dragging you back home by your wrist, refusing to let you go.

It had started a few days ago when ran into an old college friend in Skyhaven. Jeremy and you couldn't hang out that often back then due to conflicting schedules, but now he had a few days of work and you were taking a holiday in Skyhaven anyway.

Jeremy had always been a bit wilder than most, enjoying parties every week, getting drunk on school nights and violating campus rules from time to time. Nothing changed, Jeremy was still the same guy he was back then, just with a big boy job now.

Caleb felt a bit off when he first met him, maybe it was his possible bad influence or maybe how comfortable he was touching you right in front of him. But you seemed to allow it and he didn't want to start a fight with a stranger in front of you.

His annoyance kept growing everytime you got a message and would giggle, engrossed in the conversation on your phone.

"who's that, pipsqueak?"

"oh.. just Jeremy!"

"what did he say?"

"nothing.. nothing..." you'd dismiss him, still giggling.

His emotions boiled over when he came home late at night one day, finding nothing but a note on the kitchen table.

'out with Jeremy, will be back by 12am :)'

It was already well past 2 A.M. and you weren't picking up your phone. Frustrated he opens his tracking app as a last resort. He had told himself not to use it unless it was absolutely necessary, but right now felt more than necessary.

He is still in uniform when he stalks into the club. Some people give him weird looks, but he can't be bothered to care. All he cares about is finding you and getting you out of here.

Thankful for his convenient height, he looks over people's heads until he finds you on the dance floor, Jeremy's body practically glued to yours as you dance under the flickering neon lights.

Suddenly you're snatched away by your arm. Dragged outside the club by a familiar figure. The bouncers, who Caleb had threatened earlier when they didn't want to let him in initially, shamefully look away, tails between their legs.

"Get in." are the first words he speaks the second you get to the car. There is no room for discussion as he basically forces you into the car with the use of his evol before making his way over to the drivers side.

He doesn't say a word as he starts the car and speeds off. Luckily the roads are empty because even you feel a bit nervous at his current speed, but deep down you know he would never put you in danger.

The ride home is quiet, a thick and obvious tension in the air and even if you're a little tipsy, you know now isn't the time to start a fight.

When you arrive at his apartment, he doesn't waste time. And now he's dragging you back home by your wrist, refusing to let you go.

"you're being too rough..." you mutter once inside. He looks at you with angered, darkened eyes, brows furrowed. Yet he let's out a sigh and loosens his grip. He doesn't want to hurt you, he can't.

"Don't go out with him again. Matter of fact, give me you phone. I will block him for you."

"what? no... i don't wanna."

"He is clearly a bad influence, you can't hang out with him again!"

"You don't get to choose that for me, Caleb!" you argue back.

He let's out a deep sigh, closing his eyes as he tries to suppress his emotions by himself, not wanting that damned chip to take over.

He steadies himself, his tone calmer and more composed.

"He was all over you, he was touching you in ways he shouldn't, I don't want you to see him again."

"...or what?"

That's it. You've done it now.

Before you even realise what has happened, you are slung over his shoulder as he stalks into his room and throws you on his bed, hoping you don't notice the way he softens your landing with his evol.

"Your safe word is apple. I don't plan on being soft or gentle, so use it when you need it." he says as he practically rips of his uniform until he's wearing nothing but his pants.

He reaches down, untying the ribbons of your lace up heels as he mutters some some words in frustration.

"You're always defying me lately. I'm trying to take care of you, I'm trying to make you as comfortable as possible and hold myself back... yet you're out there grinding on some guy I don't even know... it's pissing me off!"

You scoff. He's pouring his heart out and you fucking scoff.

He pushes you back down to the bed and yanks down the top of your strapless party dress. He hovers over your exposed breasts, hunger evident in his eyes before he surges down, capturing one of your nipples between his lips, sucking and licking the bud while his hand kneads your other breast.

You feel the urge to tangle your fingers in his hair but your hands are held above your head by his gravity evol.

He switches nipples, making sure both get equal attention. He loves the sound of your moans, the way you wither under him and desperately try to rub your thighs together.

He detaches his mouth from you breast, instead leaving marks all around the area. Light bites and purple marks are forming as he ravishes your skin, fondly looking at the art he's leaving behind.

"will he still touch you if my marks are all over your skin?"

He gets up, standing between your legs as he allows you to sit up. You're eye to eye with the tent in his pants. He pulls down the zipper, eyes never leaving your nervous ones.

"Suck." he commands when he fully pulls out his thick and hard member, his veins throbbing at the sight of you, his tip a muted pink and leaking precum. "If it's too much, tap my thigh."

Though as caring as ever, he leaves no room for objection as he slides his cock into your mouth. But you're struggling, mouth dry from the alcoholic drink you had earlier.

His thumb and pointer finger hold your soft cheeks as he leans down and tells you; "open up." You obey but are taken aback when he spits in you mouth, helping you lubricate before shoving his throbbing cock back into your mouth.

He gently fucks into you, hand on the back of your head as you can't help but gag a bit. But you don't tap out. Instead you feel yourself growing wetter at the lewd sounds leaving his lips and the way his face contours in pleasure as swirl your tongue over and around his member.

He looks down into your pleading eyes. It's clear you want to make him feel good and for a moment he debates on cumming in your mouth, making you swallow his seed, but he decides against it.

"Can't waste a drop when your pretty pussy hasn't even been touched yet..." he mumbles to himself more than to you.

You're pushed back down on the bed as Caleb now fully tug down you dress, leaving you in nothing but your black, lace panties with a little pink bow in the front. He lifts your legs over a shoulder as he slowly slides the off, revealing your wet hole ready for him.

He spreads your legs, after not so subtly slipping your panties into his back pocket for later, and enjoys the view of you practically leaking onto his sheets. Embarrassed by how exposed you are and how hungrily he's staring at your entrance, you try to cover yourself with your hands, but they are quickly restrained by his evol again.

"Nuh-uh... I can look at what's mine all I want..." he growls.

He puts your legs on either sides of his head, resting them on his strong shoulders as he takes his cock and slides it along your wet folds in a teasing manner. A shaky moan leaves your lips and it makes him feral.

No longer having the patience to tease you, he stretches you out with his thick cock, not stopping until he bottoms out fully. You're already clenching around him, trying to adjust to his big size.

"fuck... you feel so good, sweetheart..." he says as he slides out and slams back in. You squeal when his balls hit you, over and over again.

"He could never make you feel like this... only I can! this pussy was made for me, you know that right, pretty girl?" he grunts as his pace increases. you mumble an unintelligible agreement as he pushes you legs to you chest, hitting angles you didn't even know were possible.

You feel a strange warmth bubbling in the pit of you stomach. Your whole buddy begins to tingle from the tips of your toes up to the top of your head. You clench around his length as you come hard, spitting out mumbles that resemble his name.

He rides out your orgasm, not pulling out until your stuttering clenches have stopped.

You're about to close your eyes when you are suddenly turned around, on your hands and knees before he pulls your upper body against him.

"You thought I was done with you? after what you've been putting me through these past few days?" He scoffs as he aligns himself with your entrance again, one of his muscular arms snaking around you neck, keeping your face nestled between his muscles.

"I'm far from done... Gonna make sure your pussy is shaped like my cock, so no one else will ever feel as good and filling as I do. Gonna make you cum so hard, all you'll remember is my name and how good I make you feel. Gonna fuck you so good, you're legs will be like jelly so you can't run away from me..." His free arm sneaks around your waist as his fingers find their way to your clit.

He pushes in again. Your thighs are already weak, but the way he has trapped you makes it impossible to to escape your position and all you can do is hold on to his muscular arm. He smoothly falls into a quick and ruthless pace.

If your brains weren't getting fucked out right this moment, you'd probably think about how grateful you are Caleb doesn't have any neighbours, because the ungodly sounds you're making are loud. Moans, groans, curses, mumbles and eachothers names echoe through the room.

He's rough but it feels so good and the way his calloused fingers rub your clit is making you see stars.

"C-caleb! Gonna.. gonna cum!" you say as you feel that familiar feeling spread through your limbs again.

"Go ahead, baby... Cum on my cock, yeah? want your juices dripping all over it... want you to say my name, tell me you're mine alone..." his strained voice reveals he's not far from cumming himself.

The heat and tingles spread all throughout your body, even harder than the first time.

"I'm yours, Caleb! Only yours... oh my gosh... All yours, Caleb-!" the words leave your lips like a chant before turning into a mumbled mess as you cum again. You're clenching onto him so hard, sucking him in in a way that milks his own orgasm out of him.

You feel your juices mixing inside of you as he fucks both of you through it. The room is spinning and specs of light blur your vision. Your body goes limp in his embrace, but he doesn't let you down until he completely emptied himself inside you.

When he has nothing left to give, he pulls out with a plop. He gently lays you down on his pillow. Your brain is mush and you struggle to conjure up any real words. Caleb laughs softly as he shushes you; "it's okay pipsqueak, I gotcha'.. just lay down for now, okay? I'll get you some water and clean you up, yeah?"

He takes care of you as diligently as ever, wiping you down with a warm, wet towel, bringing you a glass of water and making sure you're okay before sliding into the bed next to you. He pulls you into his chest, gently stroking your hair as you listen to his calming heart beat.

"Does it hurt anywhere?"

"no... just a bit weak and sleepy..."

He let's out a soft, relieved laugh.

"'m sorry if I was rough.. just wanted to remind you you're mine..."

"did you ever doubt that?"

He is quiet for a moment.

"no... but I didn't like seeing that guy so close to you, touching you like that... he enjoyed it way too much..."

You snort.

"I doubt you'll have to worry about that... I'm not exactly his type."

"How could you not be? have you seen you-"

"He's not into girls, Caleb..."

There's a moment of silence.

"...oh."

You laugh as the realisation hits.

"besides.. even if he was, it wouldn't matter... because I'm yours, only yours..." you whisper as your eyes close and you drift into a soft slumber in your lovers arms.

"yeah, you are..." He says as he kisses your forehead. "...and I am yours."

03:11 A.M.

Jeremy: are u okay? he seemed really mad...

Jeremy: I just wanted to scare away that creep but seems I caught two flies with one stone lmao

Jeremy: u better tell me everything over coffee tomorrow ;)

[karaspal]

yellowjackets 3x10 spoilers ahead.

honestly, the hunt this episode is as tragic as it is funny. this whole time we thought the girls went insane in the wilderness and all of them were in on the hunt, if i can even call it a hunt. turns out, shauna was the only one actively on mari's ass. mari, akilah, melissa, and gen had their own plan, so none of them were actually participating. nat, misty, and van had their plan too, so they weren’t in either. nat literally ran off to get help, and van and misty were treating it like a nature hike, just vibing and taking in the view in the meantime. hannah joined their plan too, so she wasn’t involved either. tai wasn’t with any group, but she was distracting shauna, so technically she wasn’t participating either. travis was drunk. lottie was being lottie. the other two girls? no clue what happened with them. so yeah, mari was running for her life, but the only one chasing her was the bisexual antichrist herself shauna shipman.

i liked this episode. and i liked that this whole time we were made to believe pit girl was going to be the girls' breaking point, only for them to show so much humanity throughout the episode. mari’s friends helped her, and everyone else - minus shauna and lottie - refused to actually participate in hunting one of their own. it’s such a great parallel to the first hunt, which i’d argue was their real breaking point. back then, they were starving, desperate, ready to do whatever it took to survive. this time, they didn’t want to kill a teammate just because the trees said so. it shows that, despite what shauna believes, they did self-reflect on last winter. and they came to the conclusion that "hey, maybe hunting a friend isn’t justified. maybe we shouldn’t do that again." but that’s a topic for another time.

[urdreamydoodles]

hi hi! I love your writing and was wondering about what you’d think everyone’s reaction to a drunk us. Maybe we went drinking together and were a lightweight or something (idk 🥲) anyways thank youuuuu!!!

X-Men x Drunk!Reader (Part.1)

How they deal with their drunk s/o (Part.1)

A night out with your partner quickly turns wild as your tipsy self unleashes a little chaos around.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Bobby Drake, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Emma Frost, Raven Darkhölme & Laura Kinney

I was extremely inspired by this prompt, thank you <3

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- Logan is absolutely used to handling chaos, but nothing quite prepares him for the brand of trouble you unleash when tipsy. When you’re several drinks in and decide it’s a good idea to start a spontaneous dance battle with some random patrons, Logan just sighs and crosses his arms, watching with a mix of amusement and exasperation. He’s tempted to pull you away but can’t deny how much he’s enjoying the show.

- He’s mostly unfazed when you start taking your "battle" a bit too far, challenging one particularly large guy to a dance-off. Logan leans against the bar with a smirk, ready to step in if things get out of hand. He figures you can handle yourself, but if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, he’s already prepared to make his presence known.

- When you stumble over to him, grinning like you’ve just won a gold medal, he can't help but chuckle, pulling you close and whispering, “You’re a handful, y’know that?” But it’s clear he’s enjoying this different side of you, especially when you insist on dragging him onto the dance floor despite his protests. Logan grumbles but lets you lead, his usual stoicism softening just for you.

- It’s when you try to order “a round for everyone” on his tab that Logan decides enough is enough. He firmly wraps an arm around your waist and steers you away from the bar, muttering about how he’s “not made of money” as you laugh and lean into him. He’s torn between scolding you and letting out a laugh of his own.

- On the walk home, you ramble about the night, sharing exaggerated stories and embellishments that make Logan roll his eyes but secretly cherish every word. Despite his gruff exterior, he listens to every detail, finding the way you see the world endlessly entertaining and a perfect counterbalance to his own guarded nature.

- By the time you’re back, Logan’s more than happy to tuck you in, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. You’re finally starting to settle, mumbling something about how much fun you had with him. He just smiles, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re trouble,” he murmurs, though you can hear the affection in his voice. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy absolutely thrives on chaos, and he’s more than ready to encourage it the moment he sees you’ve had a few drinks. When you suddenly decide it’s a great idea to “borrow” someone’s hat and start spinning it around like a magician, Remy’s right there, egging you on with a wicked grin and suggesting even wilder antics. “Go on, chérie, show ‘em what you got.”

- He’s delighted when you turn to him with that mischievous sparkle in your eye, pulling him into your impromptu show. You two quickly become the center of attention as he plays along, letting you use his trench coat for added flair while he flourishes a deck of cards with his signature charm, drawing oohs and ahhs from the crowd.

- When you start loudly declaring that Remy’s “the best-looking man in the room,” he just smirks and pulls you close, whispering, “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know, ma belle.” You can tell he’s absolutely eating up every bit of attention, and he makes sure to dip you dramatically on the dance floor, laughing along with you.

- Things escalate when you decide to start a card game with some nearby strangers, with Remy’s deck, of course. You might be a little hazy on the rules, but he’s having too much fun watching you bluff your way through. The two of you make a formidable (if slightly unorthodox) team, charming everyone at the table with your combined wit and unpredictability.

- Remy makes sure to keep you steady when you start wobbling a bit, an arm always draped around your shoulders as he guides you from one bit of chaos to the next. He’s vigilant without being obvious, letting you have your fun while ensuring no one gets too handsy or tries to take advantage of your state.

- When the night winds down, he insists on carrying you back if you’re stumbling, laughing when you protest that you can walk just fine. Once home, he lays you on the bed with exaggerated gentleness, grinning down at you with that signature smirk of his. “Ma belle, you certainly know how t’ keep things interestin’,” he whispers before placing a soft kiss on your hand. For Remy, nights like this with you are what make life exciting.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt is simultaneously amused and a bit alarmed when he realizes you’re tipsy. He’s not used to you being so bold, so when you start loudly complimenting him and declaring him “the handsomest guy in the room,” his cheeks turn a dark shade of blue. He tries to calm you down, but you’re too busy grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the dance floor.

- At first, Kurt’s hesitant to join you, worried that his appearance might draw stares. But you’re so unbothered and so full of joy that he can’t help but relax, letting you lead him. His movements are clumsy but endearing, and he laughs along with you, his tail swishing in rhythm as he finally lets go of his worries, at least for tonight.

- When you start insisting on “showing everyone his bamf trick,” Kurt chuckles nervously, trying to talk you out of it. But you’re persistent, so he finally gives in, teleporting the two of you across the room in a puff of smoke. Your delighted laughter is infectious, and he starts teleporting you both to random spots around the club, filling the room with giggles and gasps from onlookers.

- Eventually, you try to climb up on a table to make an “important announcement,” and Kurt quickly teleports you back down before you can get too carried away. He’s laughing as he steadies you, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes. “Mein liebe, maybe we should stick to safer activities, ja?” he teases, holding your hands firmly in his.

- As the night goes on, Kurt never strays far from your side. He’s a mixture of amused, charmed, and just a little bit flustered by your antics, but he’s also keenly aware of the attention you’re drawing. When anyone tries to get a little too close, he’ll bamf in between you and them, a protective look on his face as he politely but firmly keeps them at bay.

- Once you’re back home, he’s the sweetest caretaker, making sure you’re comfortable and tucking you in with a gentle smile. He holds your hand as you drift off, murmuring softly in German about how lucky he is to have someone as vibrant and fearless as you in his life. Even in your chaotic moments, Kurt’s love for you only grows stronger.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott is a bit hesitant when he notices you’ve had a few too many drinks, but he’s dedicated to making sure you’re safe and enjoying yourself. When you start insisting on trying to wear his visor and “see the world through his eyes,” he’s both flustered and exasperated, gently guiding your hands away with a laugh. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want that,” he says, trying to keep a straight face as you pout.

- You surprise him by dragging him onto the dance floor, and Scott, ever the responsible one, initially tries to decline. But seeing you so excited and insistent, he finally gives in. He might be awkward at first, but he quickly adjusts to your rhythm, even pulling you close and twirling you in an attempt to match your enthusiasm.

- When you declare loudly to a few nearby patrons that Scott Summers is “the best and most handsome leader,” he can’t help but blush. He’s clearly flattered and a bit embarrassed by the attention, but he just nods, smiling shyly, as you shower him with compliments. He feels oddly proud of your open affection, even if he’s a little overwhelmed by it.

- Scott keeps a close eye on you throughout the night, gently steering you away from any potential trouble or prying eyes. When someone bumps into you, causing you to stumble, he’s right there to steady you, one hand firmly on your waist. He’s the picture of a protective boyfriend, subtly keeping others at bay while still letting you enjoy yourself.

- When you start to get a little too loud and insist on “making a toast to the greatest mutant leader ever,” Scott decides it’s probably time to get you home. He chuckles softly, catching your hand and guiding you out of the club, all the while listening to your increasingly dramatic proclamations of love and admiration. He’s touched by it all, even if he won’t admit it.

- Back home, Scott helps you settle in, making sure you’re comfortable and well-hydrated. He sits by your side, holding your hand as you drowsily tell him how much you love him. Scott just smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you too, even when you’re a handful,” he murmurs, content to stay by your side until you fall asleep.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean is equal parts entertained and concerned when she realizes you’re tipsy. She’s usually the responsible one, but she can’t help but laugh when you start slurring your words and calling her your “favorite telepathic goddess.” Jean blushes, clearly flattered by your adoration, and gently shushes you, though she’s clearly enjoying every second of it.

- When you start dancing wildly, Jean initially tries to calm you down, worried about drawing attention. But seeing the joy in your eyes, she eventually lets her guard down and joins you, holding your hands and spinning you around as you laugh. She’s surprisingly graceful and a fantastic dancer, easily matching your energy and guiding you through the moves.

- At one point, you insist that you and Jean “show off your telepathic connection” to the crowd. Jean laughs, gently steering you away from the idea. Instead, she subtly uses her powers to make sure you don’t stumble, mentally guiding you to stay upright and steady. Her subtle help goes unnoticed by you, but she’s just relieved to see you having fun.

- Jean finds herself laughing even more when you start a friendly debate with a nearby stranger about the “genius” of her red hair. She can’t believe how fiercely you’re defending her beauty, even as you insist it’s a “scientific fact” that she’s the most gorgeous woman in the room. Jean’s cheeks flush, and she wraps an arm around your waist, whispering, “You’re adorable, you know that?”

- When you start to get tired, Jean’s the perfect caretaker, gently guiding you out of the bustling club. She makes sure you’re cozy, even grabbing her own jacket to drape over your shoulders. She keeps a hand on you the entire way home, reassuring you and quietly laughing at your sleepy, affectionate murmurs.

- Once back, Jean gets you settled on the couch, brushing stray hair out of your face with the softest smile. You reach for her hand, mumbling something about how lucky you are to have her. She blushes, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m the lucky one,” she whispers, more to herself than to you, as she sits by your side until you drift off.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo is incredibly amused when she realizes you’re tipsy; she’s rarely seen this side of you, and she finds it adorable. When you start calling her your “queen of the skies” and insisting she “make it rain just for fun,” she laughs and gently pats your cheek, reminding you that some powers are best kept for emergencies.

- You grab her hand and pull her onto the dance floor, much to her surprise. Ororo might be a graceful and poised leader, but she has a playful side too. She lets you lead, laughing as you spin her around, her silver hair flowing around her as she dances with surprising ease. It’s a rare sight, and you can tell she’s having fun, loosening up just for you.

- When you start loudly telling everyone nearby that “Ororo is the most powerful woman in the world,” she tries to shush you, laughing softly. She’s both flattered and slightly embarrassed by the attention, but she allows you to bask in her presence. She’ll gently tease you for your enthusiasm, a fond look in her eyes as she watches you defend her honor.

- Ororo’s always watching out for you, subtly guiding you away from any potential trouble. If you start to stumble or look a little too wobbly, she’s right there to steady you, her hand on your shoulder and a calm smile on her face. She finds a certain joy in taking care of you, grateful for this softer side of your relationship.

- At one point, you try to “command the winds” like her, playfully imitating her powers. Ororo laughs, incredibly entertained by your antics. She doesn’t mind the teasing, and she even indulges you by summoning a soft breeze that ruffles your hair, making you gasp in delight. “See? The winds listen to you too,” she jokes with a wink.

- When you’re finally ready to head home, Ororo makes sure you’re comfortable, holding your hand and gently brushing your cheek as you murmur about how amazing she is. She chuckles softly, telling you stories of her adventures to help you relax. Once home, she tucks you in with a gentle kiss on your forehead, whispering, “Sleep well, my love,” as she watches over you, content and deeply in love.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- Rogue is equal parts amused and nervous as she watches you go from a few drinks to a bit too tipsy. You start telling her she’s “the prettiest southern belle ever,” and she can’t help but blush and laugh, giving you a playful shove. But there’s a touch of worry in her eyes—she’s protective and feels a need to make sure you’re okay.

- When you try to dance with her, Rogue hesitates, but your enthusiasm is contagious. She ends up joining you, making sure to keep her gloved hands carefully in place. She’s gentle but full of energy, matching your moves while constantly keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t trip over your own feet. Her laughter is light and warm, and she looks almost carefree.

- You start raving about how amazing Rogue is, telling random people nearby how she’s “a hero who can’t even touch people, but still manages to save the world.” She gets a bit flustered and shy, trying to hush you with a soft “sugar, that’s enough,” but the pride in her eyes is unmistakable. No one’s ever praised her like that before, and it means a lot.

- When someone accidentally bumps into you, and you look about ready to start a tipsy argument, Rogue steps in with a charming Southern drawl and defuses the situation. She’s got a sweet, calming presence when she wants to, and she manages to steer you away with ease, laughing about it afterward while holding your arm gently.

- Rogue knows when you’re reaching your limit and insists on taking you home, using a soft but firm tone to make sure you listen. She doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, and seeing you a bit out of it brings out her nurturing side. “Alright, sugar, let’s get ya back before you do somethin’ we’ll both regret,” she says, guiding you with a patient smile.

- Once home, she sits with you, listening as you tell her how much you love her and appreciate her strength. Rogue’s heart swells with emotion, and she gently brushes a gloved hand along your cheek. “You’re somethin’ special, darlin’,” she murmurs, her voice warm and full of affection, staying with you until you’re sound asleep.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik is a bit bemused but mostly wary when he notices you’re getting tipsy. He’s used to maintaining control in every situation, and your loosened inhibitions make him a bit nervous. But when you start complimenting his intelligence and calling him “the smartest, most powerful man in the room,” he lets a rare smile slip, finding your praise amusing.

- You start dragging him around, pointing at various metallic objects in the bar and insisting he show off his powers. He rolls his eyes at first, but he eventually indulges you by making a few small metallic items hover, just to see the joy on your face. Erik isn’t one to perform tricks, but he finds himself unable to say no to you.

- When you loudly declare that “Magneto is the future of mutantkind,” he tries to quiet you, but he’s clearly flattered by your support. He’s a man who’s used to admiration but doesn’t often receive it so openly. There’s a softness in his eyes as he places a firm hand on your shoulder, guiding you back to your seat with a chuckle.

- Erik stays close to you, watching with an amused smile as you stumble through conversations and rant about how incredible he is. He’s fiercely protective, stepping in if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way. He’s calm, composed, and carries an air of authority that subtly warns others not to mess with you.

- At one point, you try to mimic his deep, imposing voice, quoting some of his more famous speeches. He’s visibly amused, and even a bit impressed at how well you remember his words. Erik finds your respect for his ideals endearing, and he places a gentle hand on your back, chuckling as he listens to your tipsy impression.

- When it’s time to leave, he’s entirely in control, guiding you out with a strong arm around your shoulders. Once home, Erik sits with you, listening as you share your adoration for him. He’s not the most openly affectionate man, but he reaches out, gently squeezing your hand as he says, “Your loyalty is a rare gift, and I don’t take it lightly.” He stays by your side, quietly protective, until you’re resting peacefully.

Charles Xavier aka. Professor X

- Charles is endlessly patient as you start to get a little tipsy, a gentle smile on his face as you go from poised to adorably unfiltered. When you begin praising his brilliance and calling him “the kindest genius in the world,” he chuckles, incredibly touched. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he teases, his eyes warm with affection.

- You insist that he shows off his powers, and Charles tries to decline, but your insistence eventually makes him give in. He subtly uses his telepathy to give you an image of your favorite place, a soothing mental picture that instantly makes you smile. He finds joy in seeing you happy, and he uses his powers in the gentlest, most comforting way.

- Charles is protective and attentive, ensuring you’re comfortable and not getting yourself into any trouble. When you loudly declare your love for him in front of others, he’s both embarrassed and deeply moved, his cheeks flushing slightly. “You’re quite the charmer tonight,” he whispers, his voice filled with warmth as he gently holds your hand.

- When someone tries to join your conversation, and you’re too tipsy to notice their intentions, Charles politely but firmly steps in, his calm authority enough to send them on their way. He might be gentle, but he can be firm when needed, and he’s especially vigilant when it comes to keeping you safe.

- You start telling Charles that he’s the greatest leader mutantkind could ever ask for, and he’s genuinely humbled, listening with a fond smile as you praise his wisdom and kindness. He doesn’t always let himself accept such compliments, but coming from you, they mean the world to him, and he quietly thanks you with a soft, appreciative kiss on your hand.

- When it’s time to leave, he makes sure you’re steady, guiding you with gentle hands and a reassuring presence. Back home, he helps you get comfortable, listening as you continue to express your admiration for him. Charles smiles, stroking your hand and murmuring, “I’m grateful for your support more than you know.” He stays by your side, his calm and comforting presence grounding you until you drift off to sleep.

Bobby Drake aka. Iceman

- Bobby finds your drunken antics both hilarious and endearing. As the night progresses, you start comparing him to a “walking snow cone” and insisting that he make ice sculptures for you on demand. Bobby, always up for a bit of fun, humors you by creating little ice animals in the palm of his hand, laughing as your eyes light up in delight.

- When you slip on an ice patch he accidentally created, Bobby quickly catches you, apologizing profusely while chuckling. You start calling him your “snow prince” and playfully berate him for “making the world slippery.” He just grins, his hold on you steady, clearly enjoying your tipsy declarations and the way you cling to him.

- You insist on taking selfies with him, urging him to freeze up cute little props for the photos. Bobby goes all out, conjuring up ice hats, snowflake glasses, and even a tiny ice crown for you. By the end, your phone is full of adorable photos of the two of you laughing and posing together.

- When you go off on a tangent, telling the bartender and anyone nearby how incredible Bobby is, he gets a bit bashful but loves every second. Bobby has always loved being the center of attention, but hearing you proudly gush about him has him smiling like a fool. He playfully nudges you, saying, “Keep it coming, babe; I don’t hear this enough!”

- When you get a bit too warm in the crowded room, Bobby uses his powers to create a gentle, cool breeze just for you. You giggle and thank him, calling him your “personal A/C,” and he chuckles, wrapping his arm around you and playfully cooling you down whenever you request it.

- By the end of the night, Bobby is happily holding you up, guiding you home with an arm around your shoulders. He listens as you continue to talk about how wonderful he is, and he just grins, giving you a quick, frosty kiss on the forehead. “You’re pretty amazing yourself,” he says, staying with you until you’re safely tucked in and fast asleep.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- Wanda is amused by how talkative and unfiltered you get when you’re drunk. She’s often quiet and reserved herself, so seeing you let loose makes her smile. You start rambling about how “beautiful and powerful” she is, and she blushes, trying to brush it off, but your sincerity warms her heart.

- When you ask her to use her powers to make things “magical,” Wanda gently warns you, not wanting to attract too much attention. But when she sees the hopeful look in your eyes, she can’t resist. With a subtle flick of her fingers, she makes tiny red sparks dance in the air around you, creating a little “magic show” that leaves you giggling with joy.

- At one point, you try to mimic her iconic hand gestures, waving your hands around dramatically as if casting a spell. Wanda laughs softly, guiding your hands in the proper motions. “Like this, darling,” she murmurs, her fingers intertwined with yours as she playfully shows you her “magic moves.”

- When someone bumps into you a bit too roughly, Wanda steps forward, a protective fire in her eyes. Though she doesn’t escalate the situation, there’s a warning in her gaze that makes the person quickly apologize. She holds you close, whispering, “You’re safe with me,” her voice soothing and reassuring.

- As the night goes on, you keep insisting that Wanda is “the most powerful and amazing person ever,” and she laughs, flattered by your drunken praise. “You might be a little biased,” she teases, but there’s a soft blush on her cheeks, and you can tell she’s deeply touched by your admiration.

- When it’s time to go home, Wanda wraps an arm around you, using a bit of her magic to guide you gently so you don’t stumble. Once you’re home, she stays with you, listening as you continue to talk about how much you adore her. She strokes your hair and whispers, “You mean the world to me too,” staying by your side until you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- Pietro finds your drunken state absolutely hilarious, especially when you start trying to mimic his super-speed by running around. He quickly catches you each time, his laughter filling the air as he playfully warns you that “You’re not quite fast enough, babe!”

- You start challenging him to races, even though you know he’ll win. Pietro humors you, letting you “win” a couple of times, but eventually, he zips past you with a playful smirk. “Better luck next time!” he teases, only to scoop you up and spin you around when you pout about losing.

- When you get tired, Pietro is immediately by your side, lifting you into his arms without a second thought. You giggle and tell him he’s “better than a rollercoaster,” and he laughs, racing around just to hear your delighted squeals. He loves seeing you happy and will do anything to keep you smiling.

- When someone looks at you a bit too long for Pietro’s liking, he’s instantly protective, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and making it very clear that you’re his. He glares at the person until they look away, then turns back to you with a soft smile, his fingers brushing your cheek affectionately.

- You start bragging to strangers about Pietro’s speed, telling them he’s “the fastest guy in the world,” and Pietro just laughs, loving how proud you are of him. “Keep it up, and I’ll have to show off even more,” he says, giving you a cheeky wink as he zips around the room, just to impress you.

- By the end of the night, he’s carrying you home, his arms strong and steady around you as he runs. You cling to him, your arms wrapped around his neck, and he smiles, whispering, “I’ve got you, always.” Once you’re home, Pietro stays by your side, listening as you drift off, mumbling about how much you love him. He kisses your forehead, whispering, “Love you too, my slowpoke.”

Emma Frost aka. The White Queen

- Emma finds your drunken state absolutely fascinating, especially when you become more playful and bold. Normally calm and reserved, you start teasing her about her “icy” demeanor, and she’s amused, a rare smirk on her face as she listens to you try to “crack” her tough exterior. She’s secretly charmed by your confidence.

- When you dramatically declare that she’s “the most beautiful woman in the world,” Emma rolls her eyes with a soft laugh but secretly enjoys every word. She’s used to compliments, but something about hearing them from you, even in your tipsy state, makes her feel genuinely adored. She’ll brush a hand over your cheek, murmuring, “Careful with those compliments, darling—you’re liable to spoil me.”

- As the night progresses, you start showing off for her, attempting overly elaborate gestures and winking clumsily. Emma finds your efforts hilarious but still looks at you with genuine affection. Her fingers brush yours, and she lets herself be a bit softer with you, impressed by your uninhibited side.

- When someone gives you a bit too much attention, Emma is instantly protective. She’ll stand close to you, radiating that commanding aura, and make it clear that you’re taken. She’ll give you a subtle nod, as if to say, “Don’t worry—I’ve got you,” and her calm confidence reassures you instantly.

- You get a little bolder as the night goes on, playfully daring her to dance or try something “un-Emma-like.” Amused and intrigued, she might indulge you, swaying slightly to the music or even placing your hand in hers for a private moment. She’ll laugh, saying, “You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood tonight,” though you can tell she’s enjoying herself.

- When it’s time to leave, Emma makes sure you’re steady, her arm around your waist as she guides you to the car. She’ll whisper little reassurances, telling you how much she appreciates this rare, open side of you. Once home, she’ll help you settle in, her voice soft and reassuring, reminding you that she’s there for you completely.

Raven Darkhölme aka. Mystique

- Mystique is both amused and intrigued by your drunken state. Normally guarded, you become surprisingly talkative, telling her all sorts of stories. She listens with a raised eyebrow, smirking at your candidness. “So, this is what I miss when you’re sober?” she’ll tease, clearly enjoying this rare glimpse into your unfiltered thoughts.

- You keep reaching out to touch her, fascinated by her blue skin and how it shifts under your fingers. Mystique finds this endearing, gently teasing you but allowing you to trace her features. She’s rarely this vulnerable, but your innocent curiosity brings out a softer side, and she even leans into your touch.

- When you start rambling about how “amazing” and “mysterious” she is, Mystique just chuckles, a rare, genuine smile crossing her face. Normally, she brushes off praise, but hearing it from you makes her feel appreciated in a way she’s not used to. She might even mutter, “Careful, or I’ll start believing you.”

- As the night goes on, you get into a bit of mischief together, with Mystique indulging your chaotic ideas. She’ll shift into different forms to amuse you, and you giggle every time she surprises you with a new face. Her laughter is warm and genuine, her guard completely down as she shares these fun moments with you.

- If anyone even looks at you the wrong way, Mystique’s protective instincts kick in. She’ll throw a deadly glare their way, making it very clear that you’re off-limits. Her fierce loyalty to you is both comforting and thrilling, and you find yourself feeling safe and cherished in her presence.

- When it’s time to go, she keeps an arm around you, guiding you back with quiet reassurances. She murmurs little words of comfort, her voice softer than usual, and even hums a low melody to keep you calm. Once home, she stays by your side, brushing your hair back and promising, “I’m here, always.”

Laura Kinney aka. X-23 / Wolverine

- Laura is a bit confused by your drunken antics, as she’s not exactly used to seeing you so uninhibited. She watches with curiosity and maybe a little amusement as you sway around, stumbling slightly. Laura finds herself oddly charmed by this side of you, even if she’s unsure how to respond at first.

- You keep reaching out to hold her hand or touch her arm, and though Laura is usually reserved, she lets you. Your affection surprises her, but she’s not one to pull away, especially with you. When you look up at her with that tipsy grin, she can’t help the tiny smile that breaks through her usual stoic expression.

- When you start playfully teasing her, calling her “your fierce protector” and joking about her serious demeanor, Laura is both amused and a bit flustered. She’s never had someone look at her like you do, with so much warmth and admiration, and your words mean more to her than she’ll let on.

- As the night goes on, Laura gets a bit protective. If you start wandering or leaning too close to others, she’ll gently pull you back, her grip steady but careful. “Stay close,” she’ll murmur, her voice soft but firm, a little blush on her cheeks as she realizes just how much she likes keeping you safe.

- You keep talking about how “amazing” she is, going on and on about her strength, courage, and loyalty. Laura is taken aback, not used to hearing such open admiration, but she listens quietly, her heart swelling with pride. She doesn’t say much, but her hand stays in yours, squeezing gently whenever you look her way.

- By the end of the night, she’s helping you home, a quiet but steady presence by your side. Laura makes sure you’re comfortable, brushing hair from your face as you drift off. Before leaving, she murmurs, “I’ll always keep you safe,” her voice barely a whisper. She stays nearby, her protective instincts on high, ensuring you’re well cared for as you sleep.

[mrs-delaney]

Trying to Be Good

🏈 Joe Burrow x Reader | 3.2k words

request: Reader gets handsy when drunk. Joe doesn't stop her just says keep going.

(Bless whoever sent this. You know the vibes are immaculate 🥂✨)

Author's Note: Hey, loved this request. Here’s something cute, steamy, and short for your weekend. It was fun to write—hope you have fun reading it!

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A car door slammed outside, and Joe hit pause on his controller. He'd been half-watching some documentary he'd already seen, more background noise than anything else.

The front door opened with a soft click, followed by the familiar sound of your heels on hardwood and a quiet "thank you" called back toward the driveway.

"Joe?" Your voice carried that warmth that came with a good night out—loose and happy in a way that made him smile before he even saw you.

"In here," he called back, setting the controller aside and shifting to get a better view of the entryway.

You appeared around the corner, and he felt his breath catch just slightly. The strapless zebra-print top caught the light from the pendant lamp, gold jewelry glinting at your throat and wrists. Dark jeans hugged your legs, and those heels—the ones that made your legs look incredible but probably had your feet screaming by now.

"Hey," you said, leaning against the doorframe with a smile that was just a little too bright, a little too relaxed. "Miss me?"

"Always," he said simply, taking in the slight flush in your cheeks, the way you were holding yourself. "Good night?"

"The best." You pushed off from the doorframe, making your way over to him. "Brooke got us a table by the window, and you should have heard the stories Emma was telling about her new coworker—"

You stopped mid-sentence, one hand reaching down to unbuckle your heel with a soft sigh of relief.

"Here," Joe said, sitting up straighter. "Come here."

You padded over barefoot, one shoe dangling from your fingers, and he reached out to steady you as you lifted your other foot. His fingers worked the small buckle with practiced ease while you balanced a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you," you murmured, and he could smell your perfume mixed with something else—wine, maybe champagne. Something sweet and celebratory.

"How much did you drink?" he asked, not accusatory, just curious. Fond.

"Not that much," you said, then paused, considering. "Okay, maybe a little more than usual. But we were celebrating!"

"What were we celebrating?"

"Nothing specific. Just..." You gestured vaguely, still smiling. "Being us, I guess. Having a good night."

Joe finished with your shoe and set it aside, his hands settling naturally on your calves. "Sounds perfect."

You looked down at him, something soft and warm in your expression, and for a moment neither of you moved. Then you seemed to remember yourself and took a small step back.

Joe patted the couch next to him.

"Come sit. Tell me about your night."

You settled down beside him, tucking one leg under you as you leaned into his side.

---

"So, Stevie's been texting this guy from Bumble for like three weeks, right?" You settled into the story, one hand gesturing as you talked. "And tonight, she finally shows us his profile and we're all like, 'Stevie, this man is clearly way too outdoorsy for you.'"

Joe smiled, shifting slightly to face you better. His arm stretched along the back of the couch, fingers nearly brushing your shoulder.

"Every single photo is him rock climbing or hiking or like, I don't know, wrestling bears in the wilderness..." You paused, your eyes catching on the way his hair had fallen across his forehead, messy from lying against the couch.

"And?" Joe prompted, amused.

"And—" You blinked, refocusing. "And you know Stevie hasn't been camping since Girl Scouts, but she's sitting there going 'Maybe I could learn to love nature' and we're like..."

Your hand landed on his thigh as you gestured, the warmth of him solid under your palm. You froze for just a second, then pulled it back to your own lap, fingers curling into your jeans.

"We're like... um..." You lost the thread completely, distracted by the relaxed way he was sitting, the quiet attention he was giving you, the way his free hand was resting on his stomach. "What was I saying?"

"Stevie and the mountain man," Joe said, watching you carefully now.

"Right. Stevie." You tried to pick up the story again, but your eyes kept drifting—to his hands, to the soft fabric of his t-shirt, to the way he was looking at you like he could see right through your sudden inability to focus.

You reached up, almost unconsciously, like you were going to brush that piece of hair back from his eyes. Then caught yourself halfway, hand hovering in the air between you before you pulled it back.

"You, okay?" Joe asked, and there was something knowing in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You gripped the edge of the couch cushion. "Just... wine. You know."

But you weren't fine. You were hyperaware of everything about him—the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes hadn't left your face, how close you were sitting. You wanted to touch him, to run your fingers through his hair, to trace the line of his jaw. But something was holding you back, some voice in your head telling you to behave.

Joe tilted his head slightly, studying you. "What do you want?"

---

"I'm trying to be good," you said, letting out a little laugh that didn't quite hide how caught you felt.

Joe's eyebrows raised slightly. "Why? We're at home."

You gestured vaguely at him, at the relaxed way he was sprawled on the couch, controller abandoned on the coffee table. "You look very comfortable, and I don't want to fuck with that."

"Come here," he said simply.

You shifted closer, tucking both legs under you as you angled toward him, close enough that your knee brushed his thigh.

Your hand found his chest first, palm flat against the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You could feel his heartbeat underneath, steady and warm. Your fingers traced up, along his collarbone, then higher to the line of his jaw.

"This what you wanted?" Joe asked, his voice low.

Instead of answering, you let your fingers slide into his hair, the way you'd been wanting to since you sat down. It was soft and slightly messy, and when you gently pushed it back from his forehead, he leaned into your touch just slightly.

Your other hand joined the first, framing his face, thumbs brushing along his cheekbones. He was watching you with those careful, observant eyes, but there was something softer there now. Patient.

"Keep going," he said quietly when you paused, and the simple encouragement sent warmth flooding through your chest.

So, you did. Your hands mapped the familiar territory of his face, his neck, his shoulders, but it felt different tonight—more intentional, less careful. When your fingers found the nape of his neck and he made a quiet sound of appreciation, you smiled.

"Better?" Joe murmured.

"Much," you whispered back, and leaned in to kiss him.

Your lips found his soft and warm, tasting faintly of the wine still on your tongue. What started gentle quickly deepened as you pressed closer, your hands still framing his face.

Joe responded immediately, one hand sliding to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. When you made a soft sound against his mouth, he smiled into the kiss.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, eyes dark and focused entirely on him. Without breaking eye contact, you shifted, swinging one leg over his lap until you were straddling him. The new position brought you chest to chest, and you settled your weight against him with a quiet exhale of satisfaction.

"Much better," you murmured, and kissed him again, deeper this time.

Your fingers found their way back into his hair, tugging gently at the strands you'd been wanting to touch all night. When you pulled just a little harder, Joe groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips.

"You like that," you said, not really a question, more like a discovery. You did it again, watching his eyes flutter closed.

"Yeah," he breathed, hands settling on your hips, thumbs brushing along the edge of your top where it met skin. "Keep doing that."

So, you did. Your fingers worked through his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp, tugging and releasing in a rhythm that had him melting beneath you. You felt powerful like this, perched in his lap, watching him respond to your touch. The wine had burned away your usual hesitation, leaving only want and the freedom to take what you needed.

"I've been thinking about this all night," you admitted against his mouth, then nipped at his bottom lip.

Joe's grip on your hips tightened. "Yeah? What else were you thinking about?"

Instead of answering with words, you showed him. Your hands left his hair to trace down his neck, over his shoulders, then spread flat against his chest. You could feel his heart beating faster under your palms as you explored the familiar territory like it was brand new.

"This," you said, leaning down to kiss along his jawline. "And this." Your teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below his ear, and you felt him shiver beneath you.

Joe's hands stayed where they were, letting you take what you wanted, but you could feel the tension in his grip, the way his fingers pressed just a little harder into your hips.

You sat back to look at him, taking in his slightly dazed expression, the way his lips were already swollen from kissing. "You're being very patient," you observed, grinding down slightly in his lap. The friction made you both inhale sharply.

"I like watching you," he said, voice rougher now. "Like seeing you take what you want."

The praise sent heat flooding through you. You reached for the hem of his t-shirt, fingers curling into the soft fabric. "Can I?"

"Take it off," he said immediately.

You pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it aside without care. Your hands were back on him instantly, mapping the muscles of his chest, his shoulders, the sharp lines of his collarbones. When your nails dragged lightly down his stomach, his hips jerked up involuntarily.

"Fuck," he breathed.

You smiled, feeling drunk on more than just wine now. Drunk on the way he was looking at you, the way he responded to every touch. You rolled your hips again, more deliberately this time, and watched his eyes go dark.

"You feel so good," you whispered, leaning down to press kisses along his collarbone. "I love touching you."

Joe's control was starting to fray at the edges. You could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his hands had started to move restlessly on your hips.

"Baby," he said, voice strained. "You're driving me crazy."

Joe's hands tightened on your hips and suddenly he was moving, flipping you so you were pressed back into the couch cushions with him settled between your legs. The sudden shift made you gasp, hands flying to his shoulders.

"My turn," he said, voice low and commanding in a way that made your stomach flip.

His mouth was on your neck immediately, finding all the spots that made you arch beneath him. When he bit down gently at the base of your throat, you moaned, fingers digging into his back.

His hands found the hem of your top, fingers tugging at the edge. "Take this fucking off," he said, looking down at you with dark eyes.

"Yes, please," you breathed.

He pulled the strapless top down and off, tossing it aside.

"Fuck," he said quietly, looking down at you.

When his mouth found your breast, you cried out, back arching off the couch. His tongue circled your nipple before his teeth grazed it gently, and you felt like you might come apart from that alone.

"Joey," you gasped, hands tangling back in his hair.

"I know, baby," he said, switching to lavish attention on your other breast. "I'm gonna take care of you."

His hand slid down your stomach to the button of your jeans, fingers working it open with practiced ease. "Lift up for me," he commanded softly.

You did, letting him pull the denim down your legs along with your underwear, leaving you completely bare beneath him. The cool air on your heated skin made you shiver.

Joe sat back on his heels, just looking at you sprawled out on his couch, and the intensity of his gaze made you feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

"God damn," he said quietly.

---

Joe's hands slid up your thighs, thumbs brushing over your hip bones. "Spread your legs," he said, voice low but firm.

You did, letting your knees fall apart, and he settled between them properly. His hands pressed against the inside of your thighs, holding you open.

"That's it," he murmured, then leaned down and put his mouth on you.

The first touch of his tongue made you gasp, hips jerking up involuntarily. Joe's hands tightened on your thighs, keeping you in place.

"Stay still," he said against you, the vibration making you shiver. Then he went back to work, tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes.

You were already wound tight from everything that had happened, from wanting him all night, and it didn't take long before you were falling apart under his mouth.

"Joe," you gasped, one hand fisting in his hair.

He hummed against you, the sound sending another wave of sensation through you. When he sucked your clit into his mouth, you cried out, back arching off the couch.

"Right there," you breathed, and he did it again, harder this time.

Your thighs started to shake, and Joe could feel you getting close. He pulled back just enough to speak.

"Go on," he said, looking up at you with dark eyes. "Let go."

Then his mouth was back on you, relentless now, and you broke apart with a sharp cry, your whole body tensing as the orgasm rolled through you.

Joe worked you through it, gentler now, until you were pushing at his shoulders, too sensitive to take any more.

He sat back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, watching you try to catch your breath.

"Good?" he asked, though the satisfied look on his face said he already knew the answer.

---

You were still breathing hard when you reached for him, pulling him up to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his lips and it made you want him even more.

"I need you," you said against his mouth, hands already working at the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Yeah?" Joe's voice was rough. "How bad?"

"So bad," you said, pushing the fabric down his hips. "Please."

He helped you get his pants off, kicking them aside. When you wrapped your hand around his cock, he groaned, head falling forward.

"Jesus, fuck," he breathed as you stroked him slowly.

You smiled, loving the way he reacted to your touch. But after a few moments, he caught your wrist.

"I need to be inside you," he said.

He shifted you on the couch, settling back against the cushions and pulling you with him. You ended up straddling his thighs, hands braced on his chest.

You lifted up to position yourself over him.

When you sank down slowly, taking him inch by inch, you both made quiet sounds of relief. You paused when he was fully inside, adjusting to the feeling of him filling you.

"God, you feel so good," Joe said, his grip on your hips tightening.

You started to move, rolling your hips experimentally, and his eyes fluttered closed.

"That's it," he said. "Take what you need."

You found your rhythm quickly, rolling your hips in a way that made you both groan. Joe watched you move above him, hands still on your hips but letting you set the pace.

"Fuck, just like that," he said, voice strained.

You picked up speed, chasing the friction, and Joe's grip tightened. After a few minutes of letting you lead, he started guiding your movements, pulling you down harder onto him.

"Faster," he said, and you obeyed, breath coming in short gasps.

His hands moved to grip your ass, controlling your rhythm now even though you were still on top. "That's it, baby. Just like that."

You could feel yourself getting close again, the angle hitting you perfectly with each thrust. Your nails dug into his chest as you tried to keep up with the pace he was setting.

"I'm close," you gasped.

"I know," Joe said, one hand sliding up to cup your breast. "Come for me."

The combination of his touch and his voice pushed you over the edge. You came hard, crying out as your body tensed and shook above him.

Joe didn't let up, fucking up into you through your orgasm until his own rhythm faltered. He pulled you down hard one last time and came with a low groan, buried deep inside you.

---

You stayed like that for a moment, both breathing hard, you collapsed against his chest with him still inside you.

You stayed like that for several minutes, your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow down. Joe's hand traced lazy patterns on your back.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs," he said softly.

You made a small sound of protest, not wanting to move, but let him help you sit up. He pulled out gently, both of you wincing slightly at the sensitivity.

"Can you walk?" he asked, reaching for his sweatpants.

"I think so," you said, though you didn't sound entirely convinced.

Joe stood and pulled on his pants, then helped you to your feet. When your legs wobbled slightly, he wrapped an arm around your waist.

"I've got you," he said, guiding you toward the stairs.

In the bathroom, he wet a washcloth with warm water while you leaned against the counter.

"Here," he said, handing it to you. "You want me to get your makeup off?"

You nodded, closing your eyes as he gently wiped away your mascara and lipstick with careful strokes.

"There," he said when he was finished. "Beautiful."

You smiled sleepily. "You don't have to say that."

"I'm not saying it because I have to."

He disappeared for a moment and came back with a glass of water and two Advil. "For tomorrow," he said, setting them on the nightstand.

You were already in his bed when he came back from brushing his teeth, wearing one of his t-shirts you'd found in his drawer.

He slid in beside you and you curled into his side with a content sigh. "I love you."

"Love you too," he said, pressing a kiss to your hair.

Within minutes, your breathing had evened out and you were asleep. Joe stayed awake a little longer, just holding you, before sleep claimed him too.

[spicytattoo]

The Last Flicker of Warmth - (18+ Angst)

Synopsis: Y/N is the last flicker of warmth in the wilderness. The human tether when everything else is slipping into myth, madness and hunger. It makes total sense that everyone would start to feel something for her - not always necessarily romantic, but primal. Deep. Needy. She becomes more than just a friend - she's a lifeline. (Multijackets x Y/N)

Content warnings: Violence, Dark themes, Sexual scenes

There's a point, weeks or months in, when everything starts to change.

They're not brushing their hair anymore.

They're not wearing shoes half the time.

They forget what month it is.

Their parents' faces blur.

But Y/N stays Y/N.

She still makes jokes. She still hums while skinning rabbits. She still smiles - not often, not wide, but real. She touches shoulders when she talks. Calls them by name, even when they've stopped calling each other anything at all.

And that's why they start to catch feelings. Not because she's beautiful - but because she's safe.

Lottie - with all her mysticism, starts watching Y/N like she's the only one not touched by the darkness. Like maybe she should be worshipping her instead.

Shauna - sits closer to her each night. She doesn't say anything. She just needs to feel her warmth.

Nat - half starved and angry at everything, only softens when Y/N hands her the last of the cooked meat and says, ''You need it more.''

Misty - starts mimicking her, how she talks, how she folds her sleeves. She starts calling her ''Buddy'' with a forced casualness, like she's trying to be in on a joke she doesn't understand.

And Y/N feels it too. She's not blind. She sees the way they look at her - hungry, yes, but not just for food.

They're starving for hope, and she's the last living scrap of it.

But it starts to wear on her. All those eyes. All that need.

There's a night - cold, quiet, moonless - where she walks out alone into the trees, just to breathe. And someone follows her. Could be Shauna. Could be Natalie. Could be Van.

Maybe that's where a confession happens.

Maybe someone says, ''I think i'm in love with you.''

And Y/N, soft and worn down, just says: ''No, you're not. You're in love with hope. I'm just the last place you saw it.''

Y/N - the one thing that still feels human - becoming less so because everyone keeps carving pieces from her just to survive.

She's their group 'girlfriend', in the most haunting, tragic way. Not in a possessive, romantic sense - but as a kind of shared emotional crutch, a warm body in the dark, someone to kiss or cry on or lie with when it's too much.

And Y/N lets them.

Because she thinks maybe that's all she's good for now.

She doesn't say no.

When Shauna starts curling into her at night, not saying a word. When Natalie, half-drunk on fermented berries, kisses her like it's an apology. When Van, bleeding from a failed hunt, presses her forehead against Y/N's and whispers, ''I don't want to be here without you.''

She lets it happen.

She kisses back. She holds them.

She whispers comfort. Runs her fingers through hair. Tells them they're not alone. Even when she's hollow. Even when she's freezing inside.

Because if they're okay, maybe she still has purpose.

And no one talks about it.

No one says, ''Who's sleeping with Y/N now?''

No one gets possessive.

It's understood: She's all of theirs.

The one they touch when they need to remember how skin feels.

The one they cry on when they can't handle their grief.

The one they look for after something terrible happens.

She's the blanket, the confessional, the first and last warmth.

And not one of them ever asks what she needs.

Inside? She's unraveling.

She doesn't know who she is anymore.

Her body is no longer hers. Her heart's not hers.

Sometimes she cries silently while holding someone, and they don't even notice.

She starts forgetting her own memories. Her own voice.

And the scariest part? She's not even angry. She wants to be used. Because at least then she matters.

It's not romance.

It's not even sex, not always.

It's hunger. Desperation.

A need to feel alive in someone else's arms.

And Y/N lets them. Every time.

She gives her lips to whoever needs to feel wanted. Her arms to whoever needs to feel safe. Her body to whoever needs to feel something. Her voice to soothe, her hands to hold, her warmth to share.

Not one of them asks for this dynamic out loud, and yet... they all reach for her in the dark.

And she never says no.

Because she would rather give everything she has than let anyone suffer alone. Even if it kills her.

One night, Lottie tries to pull her into something deeper - ritual, reverence, worship.

Tells her, ''You're what's keeping us alive.''

And Y/N finally breaks. Grabs her wrists. Eyes wild. Voice shaking.

''Don't you dare love me. Don't you dare make me into something holy. I'm just a girl who's too tired to say no.''

Misty brushing Y/N's hair. Obsessively, rhythmically. ''You let me touch you... No one else lets me touch them.''

Akilah crawls into Y/N's sleeping bag on a freezing night. Not saying a word. Y/N holds her without question.

Mari kisses her in the dark once, and Y/N lets her. They never speak of it again. Neither does Mari.

They all drift to her, like moths to a flame they know will burn out - but they need the warmth anyway.

And when she tries to set a boundary - it backfires.

Late at night. Everyone is asleep but Y/N and Shauna.

Shauna's been clinging closer lately. Touches turning into kisses. Into something more.

Tonight, Y/N gently pulls away.

Y/N - (quietly): ''I can't, Shauna. Not tonight. I'm just... not in me right now.''

Shauna stares at her. Like a thread snapped.

Shauna - (bitterly): ''So it's okay when it's Van? or Natalie?''

Y/N - ''It's not like that. I'm just... I'm tired of being everyone's comfort blanket.''

Shauna - ''Then don't be. No one asked you to.''

That hits like a slap.

Because Y/N knows that's not true.

Shauna storms off. The next day, she doesn't speak to Y/N at all. Neither do a few of the others. The absence is cold.

And Y/N? she folds.

She crawls back into Shauna's arms that night. She says nothing. Because being used still hurts less than being nothing.

And when someone truly loves her - it terrifies her.

On a rare, warm day. Nat and Y/N are alone. Skin sunburned, knees muddy.

They've just returned from a hunting trip. Didn't find much. They're exhausted. lying under a tree.

Nat turns to her. Staring, serious.

Natalie: ''You know, I think I'd still want you if we weren't here.''

Y/N - (dryly): ''Well, lucky for you, we are here. So you don't have to find out.''

Natalie - (earnest): ''No, I mean it. I'd follow you anywhere. Even if this all ended tomorrow. I'd still want you.''

Y/N goes silent. Her face goes still. The humour drains.

Y/N: ''No. Don't say that.''

Natalie: ''Why?''

Y/N - (tears in her eyes): ''Because if you mean it... then I'm not just surviving anymore. I'm hurting someone real.''

Natalie: ''You're not hurting me.''

Y/N: ''Not yet.''

And she stands and walks away. Because real love means consequences. And Y/N doesn't believe she's allowed to have that anymore.

The way the pain cycles through these girls, how love and violence bleed together in the wilderness. Y/N offering herself as a vessel for other people's hurt, even when it turns brutal, because she thinks that's what she's for. And Shauna - sharp edged, guilt ridden, spiralling - finally cracking and using her.

Wilderness. Cold twilight. Everyone else is asleep inside the cabin.

The only sound is the wind groaning through the trees and the quiet snap of wood as Shauna furiously breaks branches for the fire. Too many. Over and over. Her hands are raw.

Y/N approaches.

No one else would. But Y/N always does.

Y/N - (softly): ''Shauna.''

Shauna doesn't answer.

Y/N: ''You're hands are bleeding.''

Shauna drops the sticks, breathing heavy. Her face - shadows and firelight - looks feral. Tired. Like she's about to come undone.

Shauna: ''Why do you do this? Huh? Why do you follow me around like some... guardian angel? I'm not worth saving. I'm not kind. I'm not good.''

Y/N: ''You don't have to be good.''

Shauna: ''Then what the fuck do you want from me!?''

She steps forward - fast. Too fast.

And shoves Y/N.

Hard.

Y/N stumbles back, hits a tree. Doesn't react. Just breathes.

Shauna - (quieter now): ''You let everyone take and take and take from you. Does it ever stop? Do you even know who you are anymore?''

Y/N: ''No.''

Shauna hits her.

An open-handed slap. Not clean. Desperate.

Her eyes well up the second it lands.

But Y/N doesn't flinch.

She just looks at her. Steady. Like a mirror.

Y/N - (gently): ''Do it again, if you need to.''

Shauna stands frozen. Trembling. Her knuckles white. Her breathing ragged.

Shauna - (whispers): ''I'm so fucked up, Y/N.''

Y/N steps forward. Takes her hand. Places it softly on her own cheek - where the red mark blooms.

Y/N: ''Then take it. Take whatever you need.''

And that breaks her.

Shauna collapses into her, sobbing, fists curled against Y/N's chest. Y/N wraps her arms around her like nothing happened. Like it's okay.

Because to Y/N - it is.

She'll be the wall they beat against. The arms they cry into. The mouth they kiss like a prayer.

Even if it destroys her.

The woods are still quiet. Y/N's arms are still wrapped around Shauna, who's still sobbing - heavy like something inside her has snapped and is spilling out all over Y/N's chest.

Y/N holds her with steady, quiet strength. Her chin rests on top of Shauna's head, fingers slowly combing through her hair, grounding her.

And then - gradually - the sobs slow. The tension melts into something else. Something needier.

Shauna pulls back just slightly, eyes swollen, her breath brushing Y/N's lips.

Shauna - (hoarse): ''Do you think I'm a monster?''

Y/N: ''No.''

A long beat. The fire flickers. Shadows dance along their faces.

Shauna: ''Do you think i'm still someone worth... being touched?''

Y/N - (quietly): ''Always.''

And then Shauna kisses her. Tentative. Searching. Testing whether this is really happening - if she's allowed to be held like this.

Y/N doesn't hesitate. She kisses back, slow and warm and without urgency, like she's giving Shauna permission to be soft again.

Their bodies press together - awkward at first, trembling - but it shifts. Into something natural. Something familiar. As if this isn't the first time Shauna has needed this, or Y/N has given it.

Clothes aren't torn off. There's no frenzy. Just touch.

Shauna, desperate to feel something pure, to reclaim her body from the wilderness, from the blood, from Jeff, from everything she's done.

Y/N, ready to give all of herself if it makes the pain stop - for Shauna, if not for herself.

They lie down in the pine needles, slow and careful. Hands trace bruises, not to heal them, but to acknowledge them.

Shauna - (whispers, breaking): ''I don't even know why I'm doing this...''

Y/N: ''You don't have to. I'll just be here. That's all.''

And she is.

For the rest of the night, Y/N lets Shauna take what she needs.

The morning after, Shauna doesn't say a word. She's already building the walls back up.

But as she pulls on her coat, she pauses. Looks down at Y/N - still lying on the ground, eyes open, watching the sky.

Shauna - (barely audible): ''Thank you.''

Y/N just nods.

And Shauna leaves.

No kiss. No eye contact. No promises.

Just the wilderness, swallowing up the moment. As if it never happened.

Y/N wakes up because Shauna needs to be held.

Y/N eats because Mari will worry if she doesn't.

Y/N smiles because Van will break if she frowns.

She sleeps only when she's sure no one is crying in the dark.

But if one day... no one needs her?

That's the day the thread snaps.

She's equal parts to everyone. She makes sure of it.

Shauna gets her violence, her guilt, her craving for touch without emotion.

Lottie gets her spirituality, her stillness, her body when visions leave her shaking.

Natalie gets her cigarettes, her silence, her raw, wordless understanding.

Mari gets her comfort, her arms, her hair gently braided before bed.

Van gets her rage, her laughter, her aching loyalty.

Taissa gets her steadiness, her grounding, her protection.

Melissa gets her softness, her quiet encouragement.

Misty gets her attention, her acceptance, her rare, unflinching eye contact.

Akilah gets her curiosity, her kindness, her shared food.

Jackie - even in the early days - gets her charm, her attention, her light.

Travis, confused and wounded, gets her warmth too - when he can't face Natalie, when he's just a boy lost in grief. Y/N holds him like she does the others. And he lets her.

But who holds Y/N?

No one.

Not really.

Because Y/N won't let herself be held.

Not unless someone demands it of her.

Not unless someone sees her fully and insists, ''Enough. Now it's your turn.''

But they're all too broken.

Too consumed.

Too used to Y/N being there.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you so much for reading! This has been in my drafts for ages, I apologise for it being so long. It's a lot different to the content I usually write, but I'm still proud of it, so if you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed! Any feedback is welcome :)

[juletheghoul]

regrets

a/n: I cannot seem to stop myself from taking these amazing requests and going on a rampage because Marcus Acacius is my literal muse at this point. I bought my tickets for the movie and I am not going to know how to fucking act in that theatre. I sort of ran with this request, and inevitably it turned into feelings! This un-beta'd, barely edited request. All mistakes and errors are mine! Hope you enjoy what I came up with! (this is before the last chapter)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, talk of war, Marcus is a soft boi at heart and he has some regrets about being a hoe in his younger days, *feelings*, also he takes a lil tumble but he's fine! Marcus gets wine-drunk, but he's still in control of his faculties, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus - let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.2k (😅)

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

His face lit up, brighter and happier than you’d seen him, maybe ever. 

You smile to yourself from your place behind him, basking in the warmth of his mirth. The visitor had come unannounced but more welcome than any before him. An old, dear friend from his days as a mere footsoldier in the Roman army. Marcus opened his arms to the man, ushering him into his home with an almost uncharacteristic warmth–to anyone who didn’t truly know him. 

“Gods, but it has been years has it not Marcus? Since our days on the march?” The man asks him, a tired sigh on his breath. 

“Indeed it has. An age, we were mere boys then.” Marcus drains his wine and holds the cup out, you are already there, pouring just as it reaches you.

“Troublesome boys, wicked things were we not? We seemed to attract all kinds of mischief.” The man laughs, and Marcus joins, although his laughter is laced with a groan, peppered with shame. 

“Do not remind me, we were terrors.” Marcus hides his face behind his cup, drinking with his eyes downcast and it’s that aversion that piques your interest. Visions of a younger, wilder Marcus fill your mind's eye, what had he done? The man laughs, and you keep your vigil behind your Dominus. 

“I hold the memories dear, even the unsavoury ones.” The man raises his cup, and Marcus bows his head, agreeing. “Wish I had kept the looks of my youth as you have old friend.” They laugh together, clinking their cups and remembering things they do not say out loud. 

The night wears on, and they drink until the hour grows late. When they begin to yawn, Marcus insists the man stays.

“Girl, see to the preparations of a room and then come tend to me.” He speaks slowly, carefully.

“Yes Dominus.” You smile, despite yourself.

-

When you walk into his room, he sits on his bed, staring at nothing.

“Dominus, are you well?” His eyes lock on you, he sways a little, only a little.

“Too much wine, I will feel this in the morning.” He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face as you approach. “I should have known.” There is no anger in him, only a resigned acceptance. 

“If I may be so bold Dominus, it seemed you were enjoying yourself.” You bring the basin over and dip a fresh piece of linen, his eyes track your movements.

“I saw a happiness in you that I have not seen before, I would see it more often if I had any say.” He tilts his face up to yours, and you cleanse it softly, smiling at the way his eyes close.

“Would you now, Girl, do you think me unhappy?” His voice is soft, but gravelly. It awakens the parts of your body that always awaken for him. It worsens when his hands land on your hips, pulling you to stand between his spread legs.

“No Dominus, well, at times yes. Not unhappy per say, but not the way I saw you tonight.”

“I am happy, Girl. I am happier than I have been in ages.” His hands rub at your hips, sliding down to grab at your ass. 

“It fills my heart with joy to hear that.” You run your fingers through his hair, admiring the flush in his cheeks, the sparkle of candlelight in his eyes. 

“And you? Are you happy, Girl?” He holds onto you, eyes locking onto yours and it feels bigger than it should, the question on his tongue.

“Yes Dominus, I am.”  A long, pregnant moment passes and the tension rises, swelling bigger and bigger. Your heart races and then he rises, or, he tries to.

Water from the basin had splashed onto the floor, and he slips. His eyes widen with shock as he lands on his backside on the floor at your feet. 

He sits in shock, his tunic pooling high on his thighs and it’s almost like someone else’s voice comes out of your mouth, a sharp bark of laughter comes out before you clap your hands to your mouth. 

He stares up at you, the shock of the fall, the shock of your laughter, the wine, the moment—he laughs; you both laugh. Deep, loud belly laughs fill the room until tears fall from your eyes, until he holds his stomach. Any fear, any tension is gone with the crinkle of his eyes and the rare glimpse of his dimple.

“Oh Gods, I am of a form.” He gets it out eventually, smiling wide from his place on the floor. 

“Apologies Dominus—“ the ache in your belly is so great you hold onto his bed. He waves away your apology, and carefully rises. “I did not mean to laugh—“

“Peace girl, it was something to laugh at.” He stands, careful of the offending spill and removes his tunic. “The sound of your laughter is welcome, always. I do not think you cruel.” 

You don’t know how to respond, the wine has brought down his guard and made him something open, something honest and human–nothing like he is when he is too long away from the battlefield, nothing like he is when his station in this life pulls at him. 

“I have not seen my friend in many years, it was nice to speak to him, to bask in the memories of my younger days. Even the ones I’d rather forget.” You let him speak, the novelty of his reminiscing making you smile as you prepare his bed for sleep. 

“It was worth the price I will pay in the morning.” You bite your lip, the questions–the curiosity eat away at you as you move around the room, blowing out a few of the candles. 

“I can see the turmoil, Girl, ask and I will alleviate.” He smiles, sitting on his bed. 

“Apologies Dominus, I wish to know what mischief you sought out, or rather, sought you out? I cannot picture you a terror.” You take the basin away and he lets out a huff of laughter. 

“Do not lie to me, Girl. You have seen my dark moods, I am a terror often.” He waves away the expression of shock, “You know my meaning. In truth I can be brutal, I know this, but it is in battle. In my younger days, on the march I was unruly. I found it hard to follow commands, so sure of myself–to my detriment–that I knew better, that I was wiser than those above my station. I paid for it and learned, grew wise but in those early days, we were rebellious.” He smiles, fondness and the ghosts of his past fresh in his mind. 

You finish your duties as he speaks but are loathe to leave him, so you come closer, feigning at straightening out his sheets and fussing at his bed as he speaks. 

“I was also cruel.” The smile morphs then, into something ashamed.

“Cruel? I do not believe it Dominus–” He raises a hand and your speech dies.

“I was, Girl. Exceedingly cruel, to women. I broke many a heart, took the virginity offered without a care and left them without so much as a word.” He shuts his eyes tight then and the playful, cheerful mood is lost. “I was not concerned with their feelings, I cared not about their honour, I simply took, and left like the thief I was.” He stares at his hands and although it was true, it had been cruel of him, it was the way most soldiers were. No right, no wrong, just the way of this world. 

“Do you regret it, Dominus?” You stand before him again, the same tableau as before.

“Yes, I do, Girl. I regret the hurt I caused, the selfishness of youth.” 

“That is enough then, I think. That you feel it this deeply, that you would change it if you could, that is enough. You need torture yourself no more, Dominus.” Your palm cups his face and he leans into it with a pained expression for a moment before his arms wrap around your waist. His face nuzzles against the valley between your breasts and you feel the way he breathes in your scent. 

“Stay with me.” He pulls at your tunic, lifting it up and off in one swift motion before pressing kisses to your skin. There is a desire shining in his eyes. For your body, yes, but there are memories he is rewriting with you now, something kinder, something infused with more want, with love—the thought pops up and you brush it away.

“Do you not desire sleep Dominus? You had said the wine–oh–” His mouth takes your nipple in a steady suck, pulling a soft moan from your lips, and any and all concerns about his state out of your head. 

He pulls away, flattening his tongue against the bud before moving to the next. 

“No amount of wine could dampen my desire for you, Girl. Shall I stop?” He watches you, eyes locked as he takes the other nipple in his mouth and you shake your head no. His teeth bite, the little shock of pain heightens the pleasure and your fingers grip his hair harder than you mean to but it only makes him moan into your skin as he soothes with his tongue. 

Slick pools at the mouth of your cunt, the desire for him so great it makes you ache. A sharp, hollow pain, like hunger pangs for his gift, for his body, for his love something whispers again, and again you ignore it.

“God’s Girl, you bring out a madness in me–” He pulls you down, his kiss so feral it almost hurts. Teeth clicking while you taste his wine-drenched tongue. You move to straddle him but you barely manage to sit before you find yourself on your back in the bed you’d just prepared. 

His kiss is all-consuming, it is contagious–it pulls you into the depths of his madness. When he pulls away, you’re almost disoriented. 

“Spread those pretty thighs for me, Girl, let me see what’s mine.” You bite your lip, skin on fire as you obey. He kneels between your spread legs, hand slipping down to palm himself as he watches you slip your hand down towards the silky hair at the juncture of your thighs. “Spread it open, I would see how wet you are.” he strokes himself slowly, eyes glazed as you follow his instructions, spreading yourself wide for his gaze. 

It feels depraved in the best way, to have him watch you while he pleasures himself. There is a power flowing through your veins, something sweet and wicked and a boldness grabs hold of you. You dip your fingers low to spread the arousal onto your fingers, scoop some of it up to swirl against your clit. 

“This is what I do when you do not call for me, Dominus. I touch myself like this, and think of you.” His hand lands on your knee, holding your leg up as he moans, wantonly at your admission. 

“What do you think of Girl? Tell me–” He squeezes at his cock, brow furrowed while his eyes rake over you. 

“I think of you taking me Dominus, I think of how good you feel, how big you are, how I can feel you for days, how I want nothing more than for you to come into my chamber and make me yours.” Your fingers speed up, the pleasure heightened by the depravity of it. 

“Do you flutter at the thought of me giving you this?” He presses the tip of himself to your entrance, not pushing inside but letting you feel him there. 

“Yes–” It’s a pained moan. The blunt tip of him spreads you just enough to tease, it’s an exquisite torture, one that could make you cry with arousal. 

“Tell me you want it, tell me you’ll die without it, tell me you want me, Girl.” He leans forward a little, enough to make you chase the relief of him but his grip at your knee moves down to your hip, holding you there. Your fingers almost lose their rhythm. You let out a pitiful whine. 

“Tell me, and I’ll give it to you, tell me you want me, tell me–” He begs now, and you nod frantically. 

“I need you Dominus, I need you, I will die without you, I beg of you, give me the relief of your body.” Your tone is high, something frantic, something pathetic, something desperate but it soothes something in him. 

It’s a tidal wave when he shoves himself inside to the hilt. The climax spreads through every vein, through your fingers and toes through his steady strokes. He falls to cover your body with his, his tongue licking into your mouth, every nerve alight as he moans into your mouth, his cock spilling his own passion deep into your womb within a few seconds.

“God’s above, I, that was–” He breathes hard against your mouth, his eyes darting about your face as you both pulse in and around one another, “I–” He seems a little lost for words. The euphoria is still bright in your body, and so you save him from himself. You pull him down for a kiss, soft and languid as you run your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. 

“Shall I return to my chambers Dominus? Or shall I stay?” You push his hair back. The wine has made him forget himself, has made him forget that you are just his Girl, you have to remind him.

For the sake of your poor heart on the morrow.

“Stay.” You nod. 

–

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[moesthoughts]

thinking about bottom nat

blurb about bottom nat because i’m starting to really like the idea, (lit after my dom nat propaganda post i got so many sub nat on my time line) So here are some thoughts

pairing ➥ natalie scatorccio x fem reader

warnings ➥ sub nat, fingering r! giving, head r! giving, strap, mostly just sesbian lex, pure smut

𑄽𑄺 Thinking about how Nat is all bark no bite, sure she can get you weak in the knees with some whispered words, but once you have her alone and under you she’s suddenly the shyest person on earth.

𑄽𑄺 One knee parting her legs during makeout sessions and she’s completely yours, already rocking her hips on your thigh, whimpering into your mouth.

𑄽𑄺 Sex while you’re both high, and she’s feeling the most vulnerable and sensitive. You’re eating her out like she’s your last meal and she’s on cloud nine in two different ways.

𑄽𑄺 Nat just loves the attention, she’s been deprived of it her whole life and now that she has you making her feel so good when she needs it, she feels so safe in your grasp.

𑄽𑄺 Please praise her, don’t be mean. Any bit of degradation makes her sad, not turned on. But if you praise her she melts under your touch, begging you for more.

𑄽𑄺 Fucking her with your strap, drinking in her moans as she grinds on your fake dick. Riding her strap or sucking on it, she’s groaning like she can feel what you’re doing to her.

𑄽𑄺 She falls apart around your fingers, be rough, be gentle, she doesn’t care. She loves how you know where to curl your fingers to make her pleasure levels skyrocket.

𑄽𑄺 I feel like she’d be quiet, but if you want to hear her she will be loud. Mostly, you’ll get soft moans, quiet whimpers and groans on occasion.

𑄽𑄺 Drunk sex too, in a semi public space at a party. You both pressed against each other, and your hand traveling down her pants that has her heavily breathing into your mouth. The thought of being caught excites her.

𑄽𑄺 Rub your thumb around her clit and she melts against you, losing all strength in her knees. She can’t resist your touch.

𑄽𑄺 I feel like her relationship with Travis made her feel like she had to be dominant, so if you guys got together after they broke up she’d be so relieved to finally be receiving again.

𑄽𑄺 Leave hickeys on her, kiss marks from lipstick, anything. She loves having something from you on her. She also loves seeing her marks on you.

𑄽𑄺 DIRTY TALK. Nat cannot keep her mouth shut during sex, she’ll praise you, tell you how good you’re making her feel.. she just loves affirming what you do.

𑄽𑄺 Sex in her hut when you’re in the wilderness, it’s perfect because you both are quiet enough that nobody will notice. Even then she’s arching into your tongue, you tasting every bit of her.

𑄽𑄺 Aftercare, clean her up, light her a cigarette, or get her water. She’ll help you clean up as well, try to get anything you need.

𑄽𑄺 if she can’t touch you she will actually whine, small protests, tie her up and she can’t stand it. Her hands need to be somewhere on your body, ESPECIALLY if you’re riding her strap.

𑄽𑄺 Pull her hair and she’s all yours, groaning into your pussy while she eats you out.

𑄽𑄺 Nat just loves receiving from you and enjoys the break she has from being the dominant one all the time.

since i’ve been hypnotized here u go… i might be even more in love with her idk.. FALLIMG FOR SUB NAT PROPAGANDA

req me!

masterlist