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cherrynpink · 2 months ago

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freak like me

pairing: nerdy!dino x f!reader

genre: project partners, mutual pining, lots of daydreaming, smut (with a bit of plot) MDNI!

warnings: shy cutesy dino who has my heart (he is a secret freak!), idk how american uni works so just go w it pls, dino and chan are both used interchangeably, oc has nerd kink (ahem), forward oc, cursing, a bit of manipulation?, too many thirsty thoughts, kissing, choking, spit kink, unprotected sex (do not do this!), oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, clit stimulation, brat!oc, brattamer!dino, mean dino, he calls oc slut/whore, dirty talk!!!, riding, missionary position, creampie, size kink?, crying, hair grabbing, ass slapping, orgasm denial, cum eating, it is honestly filthy, lmk if i missed anything!

w.c.: 5.4k

playlist: freak like me

for more of my work, check out my masterlist!

note: thank you so much for liking the last fic so much :( didn't expect such a positive reception so i was super motivated to write this one! plus these pictures of him did something to me like y'all don't get it like i do bcs i went crazy and HAD to write.

also u can message me here or comment if u want to be part of my taglist! my requests are open if u have something u wanna read, or just talk. feedback is highly appreciated hope u like this one hehe :3

“Right, so the semester end project will be a group project.” Your professor says as the whole class sighs in disappointment and annoyance.

“I know you all don’t like these group projects, but it’s compulsory guys, it’s worth 30% of your final grade. If it’s any consolation, I requested the dean to let it be done in pairs, so be a little grateful, I don’t want anyone coming up to me after class asking to change partners.”

Great. The only thing you hated more than group projects were the ones done in pairs. In spite of all the arguments in groups, atleast you didn’t have to do any work if you didn’t feel like it. But now not only will there be conflicts with your partner, but you’ll have to do half the work too. Just great.

“Y/n? miss y/n?” your professor calls pulling you out of your zoned out state as you raise your hand in confusion.

“You’ll be partnered with Mr. Chan.”

Oh. This was going to be fun. Not only was Chan really REALLY good at studies, but also so cute. You first met him just on the second day of class, when you asked him for a pencil because being klutz you are, you had forgotten you had that class that day and had practically rolled off your bed as your roommate woke you up minutes before it started, reaching a bit late and resulting in your professor scolding you. Chan had coyly given you the pencil, later passing you a note in the middle of the class written “you can ask me later if you have any doubts about what was taught before you arrived as you were a bit late :)”. Oh, he was so cute.

That was how your friendship started, though you never talked much outside of class- other than the occasional times he replied to your story or liked it, you and him were mostly formal with each other, never crossing the boundary of “classmates.”

Sometimes you would ask him for his notes, and being the nice guy he is, he would send the snapshots in a second. You would later leave an iced americano on his usual seat, as a gesture of thankfulness; and a note along with it. Sometimes when the professor’s voice cracked in the middle of the lecture, your eyes would find his- giving each other a slight smile.

It was always quick glances, polite words, and soft smiles, because you both never seemed to take it further. But you were tired now, tired of pretending you didn’t picture his face squished under your thighs, glasses all fogged up and your slick dripping down his chin. Tired of acting like you didn’t violate your poor pillow every other night imagining how he would sound with him in your throat.

Was he a head pusher? Or someone that just begged you to let him come? Would he let you tie him up? Or would he want to tie YOU up? you were sick of acting like he didn’t get you so so wet when he answered a question in class and fixed his glasses, and you had a plan to change that.

As the class ends, you see him coming up to you.

“Should we work at the library at 6 today? I’ll get us some coffee and snacks to eat while we work!” he says with a small smile on his face.

You could agree to the library at 6, after all he has pitched it so sweetly, but there is a devil on your shoulder that is actually so evil, because you hear a voice in your head saying no way you’re meeting him in a public place for the things you want to do with him.

“I’m a bit busy at 6 Chan, I-”

“Dino! You can call me dino too. All my friends usually call me that.” He says shyly.

You smile sweetly. “I’m a bit busy at 6 dino, I have my shift at the café.” You say pouting at him. They are blatant lies. You do not have your shift at the café today because it is closed, something about the owner being at a wedding, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You can come over to my place at 10 if it’s okay with you? I doubt the library will be open till the time I get off work.” You feel a bit bad, but you’re just inviting him over because it’s more comfortable at home, right? Yeah! Nothing needs to happen just because you’ll be alone with him. (You are lying to yourself at this point because there is no way you don’t lose your mind at the thought of being alone with him.)

“Oh, okay sure! text me the address, I’ll be there.” He says with a sweet smile and you might crush him because of how much you want to squish his cheeks right now.

Dino might go crazy. He’s not even sure if you could see he wasn’t paying attention to a thing you said, because he was too busy staring at your lips the entire time, and then your collarbones, until his eyes travelled to your tits trapped in your blouse which was just a little too tight. Tight enough to accentuate the curve of your breasts; but not letting them spill out- just tight enough.

On top of that, if he’s left alone with you, he has no idea how he’s going to prevent a tent from forming in his pants, so he opts for a oversized hoodie long enough to cover him and a pair of grey sweatpants because it is your house after all, he can dress casual, and he doesn’t want you to know he took 20 minutes to decide what he wore so that his outfit says-“hey, I’m casual and comfortable” and “I’m put together” at the same time.

He is sharp on time, you say to yourself as the bell rings. You’re a bit nervous approaching the door in your small plaid skirt and sweater, knowing how he always stares at you whenever you wear a skirt to class. Plus, you’re wearing a something a little special underneath it, just it case. You push the self-doubting thoughts to the back of your head as you open your door and he is a sight to see. He looks so delicious in those animal print framed glasses and messy hair, there is a glow on his face and oh, those stupid goddamn grey sweatpants. It is OVER for you.

“You’re very punctual, it’s exactly 10.” You giggle. “Your hair looks a bit of a mess dino, coming from another girl’s place?” you say as you smirk, leaning against the door.

“No! No, I just came from the gym, my hair is still a bit wet from the shower.” He says as he ruffles his hair and comes in, setting his bag on the table in your living room. Oh? Pretty boy goes to the gym as well, is there anything he doesn’t do. He usually only wore oversized hoodies and t-shirts to class, never really revealing his true figure; nor did you ever see him much in parties despite his friends being a part of the frat, so this was a new side of him you were seeing right now.

“My roommate is gonna be home in a bit, so we can work in my room, mhm?” you ask, acting intentionally doe eyed and innocent. Lies. They are all lies. Your roommate isn’t going to be home in a bit, she’s at her girlfriend’s dorm. And she is not going to be home until tomorrow after class. And maybe if Chan was thinking clearly, he would’ve asked why your roommate would mind you working in the living room with him. But he’s not thinking clearly, too busy staring at your legs and imagining his face between your thighs; so, forgive him if he isn’t at his highest functioning brain activity right now.

He murmurs a quiet okay as he follows you to your room as you lead him. And your room is so you. He doesn’t know how to explain it, because he doesn’t know you so well yet, but as soon as he enters through the door, he sees plushies laid out neatly on your bed, and your scent all around him. He can see posters of bands and movies dressing up your walls and random Sanrio figurines all around the room. He lays his bag on your bed, taking out his laptop as you sit next to him on your chair, and your skirt rides up, revealing your soft thighs further. And maybe his eyes are playing tricks on him, but he can almost see pink lace fabric peaking from underneath your skirt. And maybe you’re just a bit cold, but he swears he can see your nipples peeking through your sweater.

Every passing minute, he is making it so hard for you to keep your composure. He keeps sharing his ideas about the project and telling you what you should work on. Why is hearing him talk about physics so sexy? You don’t know what it is, but you can’t help but think how hot he looks when he talks so passionately. Your panties are literally getting soaked as the time goes on. It’s been an hour, and he hasn’t even taken a second to look at you yet! You’re quite literally whoring yourself out for him and all he cares about is inductive motor or whatever the hell the project is about.

“Channie, can we move to the bed? I’m feeling a bit tired from my shift.” You say, fake yawning.

“Mmm? Oh sure.” It is over for him, he thinks to himself.

As you sit up on your bed, your skirt FULLY rides up, revealing your baby pink lace panties. You push it down gently, saying “oops” as you giggle. And something inside him snaps. All control he had, he’s lost it now and he physically cannot hold back anymore. His gaze darkens, as he pushes you down, his grip on your throat as he gets on top of you. You gasp as he takes you by surprise, but the shock lasts barely 5 seconds before you smirk.

You reach up as your lips find his, pulling him deeper into your mouth as you grab his hair. From the get go, it is passionate, and rough and messy, because both of you are left gasping for your breath- your cheeks rosy and your chest heaving. Deciding to tease him further, you bite his lip. He moans into your mouth, mumbling “brat.” Taking the opportunity, you slip your tongue into his mouth deepening the kiss, and it is so sloppy; neither of you willing to give up control. The heat between your legs grows because of the way his tongue fights with yours to take over, which has your head spinning.

“Channie” you moan, as you feel the hard press of his body against yours, the sound of your lips smacking together and your heavy gasping filling the room.

His hand reaches to lift your sweater slightly, fingers making contact with your bare skin as they keep moving upwards until they meet your lacy bra, delicately toying with the material.

“You wore this for me baby? Knew this was going to happen?”

All you do is giggle as you continue to kiss down his jaw, alternating between sucking and biting. But that doesn’t sit right with him, as his other hand wraps around your neck, squeezing just the right amount so that his grip is tight enough, but still allowing you to breathe, and suddenly you’re flooding your panties.

“This okay?” he asks, his eyes filled with concern and genuine worry, looking for any discomfort in your eyes, desperate for your approval to continue.

You nod, because it’s actually all you can do. He loosens the grip on your throat and begins to pull his hand away as he says “Fuck, if you want me to go on, you’re gonna have to answer me baby.”

You’re quick to bring his hand back on your neck, your head turning left and right in panic, “No! No, please I want it!” you say as he smirks at your desperate state.

“Yeah? Then answer me when I ask you a question baby. You wore this set for me pretty?”

“Just wanted you to notice me, pay attention to me.” You say between kisses.

“And you thought whoring yourself out would be the way to get my attention” he chuckles. “Thought it was a mistake when you flashed me, turns out baby’s just an attention whore.”

He gets off of you and the bed and a whine leaves your throat as he pulls you down by your ankles as your hips reach the foot of your bed in an instant as he begins taking off his glasses.

“No!” you protest. “don’t- don’t take them off, I like them.” You say timidly. He picks you up, flipping your previous position as he seats you on his lap, taking off his hoodie, and you cannot help but stare. You did not know he was SO built and buff, your eyes are practically eating him up as you feel drool building up in your mouth. Oh, you NEED to suck him off right now. And that’s pretty much all it takes for you as you get on your knees for him.

When you look up to him, there is hunger in his eyes, something you’ve never seen before, his gaze full of lust. He can’t remember how many times he’s pictured you like this, on your knees, so innocent, a pathetic expression on your face, waiting for him to give you your next instruction.

Those stupid man whore grey sweatpants, you need them off now.

You fumble with it’s band as you impatiently pull it down, revealing his Calvin Klein boxers, and you clearly have no time for this nonsense, rushing to pull his boxers down as well, all while he looks down on you, leaning back on the bed- hands on either side of him with a big cocky smirk on his face, because he cannot wait to see the next look on your face.

Your face: it’s so transparent, so revealing. It’s literally like you wear your heart on your sleeve. Everything you feel, you think, you want, it’s clear- plain as day on your face. And as soon as you pull his boxers off, there it is- pure amusement and shock, as his dick twitches at the sight of your wide doe eyes. You knew he was big, atleast that’s what you pictured in your nightly scenarios. But you did not know he was this big both in length and in girth as well, his angry tip staring at you, begging for your attention.

“Take your sweater off.” He demands. No pleas, no hesitance. An order. And who would you be to defy him? you teasingly take it off, all while a small smile adorns your lips as you throw the sweater somewhere on the floor alongside his hoodie.

You take his length in your hand, rubbing your thumb over his tip- spreading his pre-cum around it as your eyes go from doe like to those of a siren as they stare straight into his, spitting right on it seductively and oh, he thinks he’s in love. You pump it up and down and fuck- you can’t even completely wrap your hand around it, giving it a little squeeze as you go along, building the tension. But he doesn’t seem too happy about it as he sighs in annoyance. He’s sick of your teasing, because even after his multiple attempts to discipline you, you’ve decided to continue being a brat.

In the blink of an eye, he takes your hand off of him, grabs you by your jaw and squeezes your cheeks between his thumb and fore finger- the rest of the them lying on your jaw, forcing to you part your lips slightly.

“Do you trust me y/n?” he says softly, yet his voice dripping with dominance as you nod.

“Open your mouth, tongue out baby.”

And what he does next takes you by surprise, as he leans down, collecting a glob of spit in his mouth as it drips down from his mouth to yours, making you moan as you close your eyes, feeling the warm liquid on your tongue.

“Swallow.” he says as he caresses your jaw. And his wish is your command; you let out a loud moan as you feel it travel down your throat.

“Good girl. You’ll listen to me now, yeah? No more teasing. I’ve been holding back until now but if you don’t behave, I’ll have to fuck you like the whore you are. Better yet, I’ll eat you out, and get you so so close. I’ll be at it for hours baby, I have no place to be, but I won’t let you cum. So, tell me, you’re gonna be a good girl for me now?”

And all you can do is nod as he smirks, because now, he holds the power over you, and you want him to take over you. Don’t want to think about anything, just do whatever he says. And he can see that, see you fully slipping into subspace.

He holds his dick in his hand, and as your mouth chases his tip, he slaps it against your cheek. All he does is laugh, because you just look so pathetic under him. Tits spilling out of your see through pink lace bra, eyes on the brink of tears, fists balled up in your lap because he won’t let you touch him.

He grabs your hair in a makeshift ponytail and slaps his dick against your other cheek as he says “tap my thigh twice in you wanna stop, okay?” and finally rubs his tip against your lips, parting them immediately as you engulf it in your mouth, sucking on it as if it’s a popsicle, swirling your tongue all around it, making him groan.

Slowly, he pushes his dick in inch by inch until it hits the back of your throat, and its laughable, because half of it still can’t be wrapped around your tiny mouth even though your jaw is doing gymnastics to accommodate half of him and he lets out a loud moan due to the insane pleasure it gives him. Since he won’t let you move yet, enjoying the feeling of cockwarming your mouth too much, you drag your tongue up and down, making him hiss.

Finally, he decides to fuck your throat, sliding your mouth up and down his dick as if your mouth is just a fleshlight for him to use, making your eyes roll back. He starts slow, as to ease you in; but is quick to fasten his pace to meet his needs. But you want to do more, so your hands reach up to play with his balls, and oh does it take him by surprise. All he can do while fucking your mouth is mumble sweet nothings, praising you, telling you how good you’re being letting him use you like this. And his words are working, because at this point your slick is running down your thighs and your cunt is in a desperate need of attention, as you grind it against the heel of your foot and when you look up to him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything more beautiful. His glasses lay low on his nose as his head is thrown back in pleasure and his hair is messy, sticking to his forehead due to the sweat; yet his hand is precise is controlling your mouth by your hair. His buff chest heaving desperate for air as his ears and cheek are a pretty shade of pink for you.

Suddenly he looks down to meet your eyes staring at him in lust, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything hotter as he sees you grind against your foot pathetically all whilst he fucks your warm mouth. He can feel the vibration of your mouth as you moan around him, and he thinks he’s in heaven. You look so dirty, spit dribbling down your chin, pupils dilated and red with desire, tears streaming down your cheeks because of how deep he’s hitting it right now. He is just so close, but no way he doesn’t cum in your pussy today, so he pulls you off his dick as you welp, a string of spit connecting your lips to his tip.

“I’ll come in your mouth some other day baby, need to be in you right now.” He says responding to your cute pout as he pulls you up to sit on his lap, your legs on either side of his thigh once again.

His hands travel to your back to undo your bra in an instant as it’s thrown somewhere on the bed behind him. Immediately his mouth is attached to your hardened nipple as you let out a loud moaning, feeling his warm tongue on your cold skin.

“I’m so fucking sick of you parading around in this stupid excuse of a skirt that barely covers your ass y/n.” He says as his hands travel down and under your skirt, making contact with your dripping lace, running his fingers up and down. He can feel your slick on his own thighs.

“Oh? You’re already soaked, baby. But I haven’t even touched you yet, wanna tell me what got you so wet?” he says as he mocks you, still not taking his attention off your breasts, sucking them and marking them up with hickeys all around and all you can do is moan as you dig your nails into his back overwhelmed by the pleasure.

“You’re so sensitive, so responsive. I love it baby, so easy for me. Need you to answer me- what’s got you dripping?” he says as he finds your clothed clit, pressing hard against it over the lace.

He’s being so mean right you. The remnants of tears on your cheeks have barely dried up before you can feel yourself getting teary eyed already.

“You! Want you so bad channie! Been wet for you since you walked in the door.” You cry out desperately.

Finally, he stops teasing your covered pussy and pulls it to the side, inserting two of fingers with no warning making you scream out loud. He’s quick to press his thumb to your clit, flicking it as he pumps his fingers into you, all whilst he’s sucking on your tits. His pace is monstrous from the start, and he shows no signs of stopping as he continues to drive them in you, opening you up preparing you to take his big dick. All you can do is drop your head on his shoulder helplessly, taking what he gives you.

“Ah! So good Chan, so- so- fuck! Right there! Need you!” you say as he repeatedly hits your g-spot all while rubbing your clit.

You’ve lost all track of time. You’ve been so close to cumming ever since you saw him walk through your front door that even the slightest touch could get you to your high, and here Chan was, touching you right where you needed, enlightening all your senses.

“I’m about- gonna- gonna cum dino! Please, let me, oh- please let me cum!” you cry out loud, begging him as he pulls out his fingers in an instant and just like that you’re crying again, dropping your head in the crook of his neck.

“What, don’t cry baby.” He says, voice dripping with fake sympathy, because inside him he knows your tears turn him on even more. His hand reaches the small of your back as he caresses it, attempting to calm you down. “Want you to cum on my cock princess. Think you can do that, yeah? You promised you’d be a good girl for me.”

“I was- I was just so close.” You say timidly between your sniffles.

“It’s okay princess, I’ll make you cum real good on my cock.” He whispers, kissing you tenderly for the first time in the evening, and it makes your heart full, reminding you that in spite of everything, this is the same dino that you see in class every day, polite and sweet and beautiful; but you’re brought back to the present as he pulls away from you, shattering your illusion.

“You wanted my attention so bad y/n, you started it. So, you’re gonna take what you wanted- gonna have to ride me.” He says with a shit eating grin that just makes you so mad right now, but eager to give him what he asks for you get off your lap and begin to take off your skirt.

“Did I ask you to take it off? Still not behaving baby. Keep the skirt on; after all you made such a show of wearing them, wanna fuck you in it. Take off your panties.”

Once the pink garment is off, you sit on his lap again, as he slaps his dick against your poor swollen cunt, running his tip against your entrance.

“You know what to do right? It isn’t your first rodeo after all.” He says as he smiles.

God, he is so cocky. If you didn’t desperately need him in you, you would not put up with it for a second. (you would probably put up with it anyway)

You take his dick in your hand as you hover over it, your pussy clenching over nothing, begging to be filled by him as you insert the tip in him; and that alone is such a stretch for you, your legs might give up then and there. But you are anything but determined. Stubborn. Firm on proving yourself. So, you accept the stretch, stabilising yourself by placing one hand on his wide shoulder while you bottom out completely, burying himself into you in one go making him throw his head back and groan in pleasure as his hands reach out to hold your waist, not letting you escape his grasp.

Slowly but surely, you begin by grinding your hips against them, building up the tension as you try to maintain a steady pace; but dino doesn’t look amused, so you begin to move up and down on him, burying your freshly done nails into his shoulders. His hand moves down as you bounce on him, giving your ass a quick slap before finding it going under your skirt and rubbing your clit, making you gasp out.

“Fuck, lift up your skirt baby.” He says, and you comply- lifting up your skirt with one hand, whilst he continues to toy with your clit and you bounce up and down his dick, showing him the mess you both are making; and he loves it.

You’re so eager to please him, prove yourself to him as you continue to alternate between grinding and moving up and down; but the pleasure is SO overwhelming with his hand on your nub and you don’t think you can last. On top of that, you’ve been working so hard to maintain a steady pace for him, that your thighs are about to give out. And he sees that- sees your movement becoming sloppy and messy, your thighs shaking and your grip tightening on his shoulder.

“Tired, baby?”

Why is he such a tease. And why is he being so mean to you when he knows you’re totally spent. You think you’re going to cry for the third time in the night.

“You know, all you have to do is admit it. And I’ll take over. You know you want me to. I can make you feel so good baby, hit all the right spots and you don’t have to lift a finger.” He whispers in your ear before slapping your ass again as he lifts his hips to meet yours in a sharp thrust, showing you how much better he can make you feel.

“I- I- tired. I’m tired channie! Thighs hurt. P- please!” you say between hiccups as he keeps thrusting into you from beneath.

That’s all he needs to hear, before he’s flipping you on your back without taking himself out of you, pressing a kiss to your lips as he begins to actually fuck you. His hands roam all over you as if he’s trying to memorise every curve and dip. He’s thrusting into you with such a force your tits bounce back and forth with every drive of his hips into you while he mumbles pretty words in your ears.

“Pussy so good baby, absolutely squeezing me. Can’t believe you were letting those stupid guys have this while I was right there. Could’ve made you feel this good all this time. Fuck! Always wanted to bend you over the desk whenever you wore those stupid skirts to class. You know, everyone could see you baby. See how much needy you were. You’re probably just too much a slut to care, no?”

His mouth reaches down to bite your nipple, where you’re already so sensitive that you can’t help but cry out. You look so dumb for his cock right now, your nails are absolutely obliterating his back as your legs wrap around him not letting him go, a chant of his name leaving your lips with each of his movement. All you can hear is the sound of his balls slapping against you and your screams. You’re pretty sure you’ll get complaints from your neighbour tomorrow but who cares; he’s just too good. His thrusts get deeper yet sloppier as you feel him reach between your sweaty bodies and rub your clit in an attempt to get you closer.

“Fuck! Gonna cum baby. Are you close?”

“Yes! Channie fuck, love- love your dick so much! So big, need- I’m almost there!”

And that’s all the motivation he needs before he picks up his pace again, angling himself to hit you exactly at the spot that makes you scream, and before you know it, you feel tears streaming down your face again because of the overstimulation.

“Chan! Gonna cum! Please, please- fuck right there, please wanna cum!”

“Where do you want me princess?”

“In! In me, wanna feel you in me, fill me up! Please, need it in me!” you babble.

And that is all it takes for you to let go. Your eyes roll to the back of your head with a loud whine as your nails dig into him deeper, your back arching- the pleasure taking over you as you see stars in front of your eyes, screaming his name over and over again. It’s like you’re floating- because your body feels numb and completely spent. He feels you clenching so much around his cock as you cum, it’s like you’re milking him, before he’s filling you up full of him too, reaching his high, and he cannot stop. Even after you’re done, you’re still rhythmically squeezing him as he doesn’t stop coming in you. You feel him warm in you, and you honestly never want him to pull out, but unfortunately, he does- leaving you empty as his essence begins to spill out of you.

He gets between your legs, watching a mixture of your cum dripping out of you, admiring his work before he’s collecting it in his fingers, tracing your swollen sensitive centre as he comes up to you, and inserting his fingers in your mouth, while he kisses your tears. You can taste him and yourself on your tongue as you close your eyes, swirling your tongue around his fingers. The sight is so hot to him, his dick twitches against you once again before he’s pulling his fingers out and gently kissing you, as he leaves your bed to bring you a towel.

He lies besides you after he cleans you up as you turn you face each other.

“Sorry if I was too rough, got carried away a bit.” He says as you lay your head on his arm and run your hand through his hair.

“You were so good, I think I need to be a little bitchy again for you to put me in my place.” You say as you kiss him, smiling against his lips.

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youngsadlesbian · 4 months ago

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FALLING WAS NEVER THE PLAN | wanda maximoff x reader

summary: you swore you'd never fall in love—until wanda maximoff walked into your life. what started as playful banter turned into a slow-burning romance neither of you saw coming. With friends meddling and years of tension, love was inevitable… eventually.

a/n: i just woke up with this idea in my mind and couldn't rest until i put it on paper. i really hope you like it cuz this is kind of one of my favorite things i've written in a while.

word count: 5,1k

warnings: just fluff.

You always said you’d never fall in love.

Love was complicated. Messy. Time-consuming. And, honestly? You never really believed you could stay interested in someone long enough for it to happen. People got on your nerves too easily, relationships demanded too much, and you were perfectly fine on your own.

Carol Danvers, your best friend, had been the first to roll her eyes every time you made this declaration.

"Yeah, yeah," she’d mock, shaking her head. "You're so above it all. Just wait. One day, you're gonna trip and fall flat on your face for someone, and I'll be there to laugh."

You had scoffed at the idea. You? Falling for someone? Unlikely.

Then you met Wanda Maximoff.

And, well. Carol had a field day.

It started in the most frustrating way possible.

The new semester had just begun, and you'd arrived early to your first lecture of the day—Philosophy 201, because why not suffer first thing in the morning?—choosing your usual spot in the back of the auditorium. You weren’t expecting much. Just another semester of coasting through classes, doing what was necessary, and ignoring the unnecessary drama of campus life.

And then she walked in.

Wanda Maximoff.

She was late. Her red sweater was slightly oversized, the sleeves pushed up to reveal delicate wrists and ink-stained fingers. Her dark hair was tied up messily, stray strands falling into her sharp, green eyes, which scanned the room with a hint of disinterest. She had this quiet intensity about her—like she wasn’t just walking into the room but commanding it.

You barely registered Carol nudging you with her elbow.

"Ohhh no," she murmured, smirking. "I know that look."

"What look?" you asked, a little too quickly.

"The look of someone about to be an absolute dumbass."

You rolled your eyes, but, okay. Maybe you had stared too long. And maybe your heart had skipped a beat when Wanda sighed in mild annoyance before taking the empty seat two rows in front of you.

Not that it mattered. You weren’t interested. Right?

You tried to be subtle about it.

You really did.

But something about Wanda Maximoff made it impossible not to pay attention.

At first, it was just curiosity. She didn’t talk much in class, but when she did, she had this calm, self-assured way of speaking that made everyone—including you—shut up and listen. She had opinions, sharp ones, and she wasn’t afraid to challenge the professor when she disagreed.

It was… irritatingly attractive.

Carol noticed way before you did.

By the second week of classes, she had taken to watching you with open amusement every time Wanda entered the room.

"So, when are you gonna make a move?" she asked one afternoon, casually stealing fries from your tray at the dining hall.

You scoffed, shoving her hand away. "Please. Just because I notice someone exists doesn’t mean I’m interested."

Carol snorted. "Uh-huh. Sure. So, you just happen to sit where you can see her every day?"

"Coincidence," you said, deadpan.

"And you happen to look up whenever she speaks?"

"Academic interest."

"And when she tucks her hair behind her ear and you completely lose your train of thought?"

"…Mind your business, Danvers."

Carol grinned like she had just won the lottery. "Oh, this is amazing. The great ‘I’ll never fall for anyone’ has finally met her match. I love this for you."

You groaned, throwing a fry at her.

But, secretly? You were starting to think she might be right.

It started as a challenge.

You weren’t into her. (You were. You just weren’t ready to admit it yet.)

But you were intrigued. And maybe a little too competitive for your own good.

So, you tested the waters.

You started small. A few casual comments after class. An offhand joke when you passed by her in the library. A smirk when she rolled her eyes at something stupid the professor said.

She ignored you.

At first, you thought it was accidental. Maybe she was just shy. Maybe she didn’t realize you were trying to talk to her.

Then, after class one day, you held the door open for her with your most charming smile.

"After you, Maximoff."

She barely glanced at you. "Thanks," she muttered, walking past without so much as a second look.

Carol nearly fell over laughing when you recounted the story later.

"Dude. She’s shutting you down."

You scowled. "She’s just… focused. Probably doesn’t even realize I was flirting."

"Oh, she realizes," Carol said, grinning. "She just doesn’t care."

That was unacceptable.

So, of course, you doubled your efforts.

If Wanda Maximoff wasn’t going to acknowledge your flirting, you had two options:

Accept defeat and move on.

Try harder.

Obviously, you chose the second one.

The problem? She was really good at pretending you didn’t exist.

It was honestly impressive. No matter what you did—clever remarks, casual touches, even offering to share your notes (and you never shared your notes)—she gave you nothing. A polite nod at best, a blank stare at worst.

It was driving you insane.

And, of course, your friends were having the time of their lives watching you struggle.

The night it all escalated, you were at Natasha and Yelena’s apartment, where most of your group hangouts happened. The sisters had somehow ended up with the best place off-campus—probably thanks to Natasha’s terrifying ability to negotiate—and it had become your go-to spot for movie nights, drinks, and whatever chaos Yelena decided to stir up.

Tonight was no different.

Carol was sprawled across one of the couches, lazily tossing popcorn into her mouth. Kate and Yelena were arguing about something ridiculous (probably which one of them could do more push-ups), and Natasha was in the kitchen, pretending not to hear any of it.

And then there was Pietro. Wanda’s twin. The one person who might have some insight into how to break through her ridiculous walls.

"You look like you have a question," Pietro said, smirking as he lounged next to you. "Or maybe you just enjoy staring at me."

You rolled your eyes. "I have standards, Maximoff."

"Ouch," he said, clutching his chest. "You wound me."

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. "But, since you are here… what’s Wanda’s deal?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Her deal?"

"You know. Why does she ignore me? Is she, like, a robot? Is she secretly plotting my downfall? Did I unknowingly offend her ancestors?"

Pietro laughed. "You really don’t handle rejection well, do you?"

"I wouldn’t know," you said with a smirk. "This is my first time experiencing it."

Carol wheezed from across the room. "Oh my God, you’re down bad."

"Shut up, Danvers."

Pietro looked far too entertained by this. "Wanda’s just… difficult. She doesn’t trust easily. And she’s really good at shutting people out before they can get close."

You frowned. That… made sense. But it also made you want to try even harder.

"Any advice?"

Pietro grinned. "Don’t be boring."

So, you decided to switch tactics.

If subtlety wasn’t working, you’d try something else. Something bigger.

And what better way to get Wanda’s attention than to challenge her?

So, if subtlety wasn’t working, you had to try something else.

Something bold.

Something that would make it impossible for Wanda to ignore you.

And, if there was one thing you knew about her by now, it was that she hated losing.

Pietro had given you the key without realizing it—Wanda was competitive. She didn’t like letting people in, but she also didn’t like backing down from a challenge.

So, naturally, you decided to challenge her.

It started during a casual game night at Natasha and Yelena’s place. You were all sitting around the coffee table, drinks scattered across the surface, debating what to play.

"Not Monopoly," Kate said immediately, raising a hand. "I’m not going through that hell again."

"Aw, Bishop, still bitter about losing to me last time?" Yelena smirked, tossing popcorn into her mouth.

"You didn’t win, you bullied us into surrendering!"

"It’s called strategy."

"You flipped the board when I refused to trade with you!"

Yelena shrugged. "Same thing."

Carol, laughing, grabbed a deck of cards. "Alright, let’s do something simple. Poker?"

"I suck at poker," Pietro groaned.

"That’s why I wanna play," Carol said, grinning.

Wanda, who had been mostly quiet until now, finally spoke. "How about something that actually requires skill?"

You saw your opportunity and took it.

"Like what, Maximoff?" You smirked. "Something you think you can win?"

Wanda’s eyes flickered to you, sharp and assessing. "Something fair."

"Oh?" You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. "And what exactly would that be?"

She hesitated for a moment. Then, as if making a decision, she said, "Chess."

"Really?" Carol snorted. "You two are gonna flirt over a chessboard now?"

"We are not flirting," Wanda said flatly.

You grinned. "No, no, I’m intrigued. Chess, huh?" You tilted your head. "You good at it?"

Her expression didn’t change. "Good enough."

Yelena whistled. "Damn, she’s confident."

"I like it," you said, still smirking. "Alright, Maximoff. Let’s play."

Natasha set up the board while everyone else settled in to watch.

You knew Wanda was taking this seriously because the moment the game started, her entire demeanor shifted.

She was focused.

Her sharp green eyes studied the board, every move calculated, every piece placed with intent.

You, on the other hand? You played like you always did—reckless, instinctive, willing to take risks just to see how she’d react.

It drove her insane.

"That’s a terrible move," she muttered after you sacrificed a knight.

You grinned. "Maybe."

She gave you a long, unimpressed look before moving her bishop. "You’re reckless."

"And you’re predictable."

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, and you swore, for just a second, you saw the slightest hint of a smile.

The game lasted forever.

Piece after piece, move after move, until the only thing left was tension crackling in the air.

In the end, Wanda won.

But just barely.

She sat back, exhaling slowly, her fingers resting lightly on the edge of the board.

"Not bad," she said finally.

You leaned forward, your smirk returning. "Admit it. You had fun."

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t deny it.

And that? That was progress.

After that night, things shifted.

It was subtle—so subtle that if you weren’t paying attention, you might’ve missed it.

But you were always paying attention when it came to Wanda.

She didn’t completely drop the walls she had built around herself, but she started letting you see through the cracks.

She still rejected every flirty comment, still rolled her eyes whenever you got too smug, but she stopped ignoring you.

Instead, she engaged.

She challenged you.

She expected you to keep up with her.

And, most importantly, she kept showing up.

Whether it was at game nights, study sessions, or even just random moments around campus, Wanda was there.

Not avoiding you. Not brushing you off.

Just there.

And that? That was everything.

One of those moments came a few days later, when you were sitting outside, watching Carol and Natasha spar on the field.

"You know," Pietro said beside you, "I gotta admit, I’m impressed."

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "By what?"

"By you. You don’t give up easily."

You smirked. "Was that ever in question?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Wanda’s stubborn. She doesn’t let people in."

"I’ve noticed."

"And yet, here you are."

"Here I am," you agreed.

Pietro studied you for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, if you somehow manage to win her over, I expect free drinks for at least a year as payment for my suffering."

You laughed. "Deal."

Unbeknownst to you, Wanda had been standing a few feet away, listening.

She didn’t say anything.

She just watched.

And, maybe for the first time, she wondered if you were serious.

A few nights later, you found yourself sitting in the library, trying (and failing) to focus on an assignment.

It wasn’t that the material was hard—it was just that your brain refused to cooperate.

And then, as if the universe had a sense of humor, Wanda walked in.

She didn’t notice you at first.

She just found a quiet table, set down her books, and started working.

You told yourself to be normal.

You told yourself to stay put.

But, of course, you didn’t listen.

With a smirk, you grabbed your things and made your way over to her table.

"Fancy seeing you here, Maximoff."

She didn’t even look up. "It’s a library. People come here to study."

"You? Studying? I don’t believe it."

She sighed, flipping a page in her book. "Do you ever take anything seriously?"

You grinned, dropping into the seat across from her. "Not really."

"Shocking."

"Well, someone has to keep things interesting."

She rolled her eyes, but—there it was.

That tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth.

The almost smile.

You lived for those moments.

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed as you watched Wanda pretend to be completely uninterested in your presence.

But you weren’t fooled.

Her fingers drummed lightly against the pages of her book, a sure sign of distraction. She was aware of you.

Which meant you were winning.

"So," you drawled, tilting your head. "What are you studying so intensely that you didn’t even say hi to me when you walked in?"

Wanda sighed but finally glanced up at you, her green eyes sharp with amusement and exasperation.

"Psychology," she answered.

Your lips twitched. "Let me guess, you’re trying to understand why I’m so obsessed with annoying you?"

She huffed, shaking her head. "No, but now that you mention it, I should make that my thesis."

You gasped in mock offense. "I’d be honored. Really. 'The Study of How an Infuriating Idiot Wears Down a Very Patient Woman.' Sounds groundbreaking."

This time, Wanda actually smiled—just for a second, but long enough to make your heart do something incredibly embarrassing in your chest.

"You’re ridiculous," she muttered.

"And you love it," you shot back without thinking.

Silence.

Your confidence wavered.

Had you pushed too far?

But then—Wanda simply rolled her eyes and went back to her book, a faint pink dusting her cheeks.

And that? That felt like a victory.

A few tables away, Natasha, Yelena, and Carol were definitely watching the whole exchange.

"How long are we betting before Wanda snaps and finally admits she likes her?" Carol whispered, smirking.

Natasha, arms crossed, leaned back in her chair. "Two weeks."

"Please," Yelena scoffed. "Wanda’s stubborn. A month, at least."

Kate, who had been absentmindedly doodling in her notebook, glanced up. "Shouldn’t we bet on her cracking first?" She nodded toward you. "I mean, she acts all confident, but she’s totally spiraling."

Natasha smirked. "You’re not wrong."

Carol snorted. "She’s already gone. She just hasn’t realized it yet."

A week later, you did.

Or rather, Carol made sure you did.

It was a Friday night, and the whole group had gone out for drinks at a bar just off-campus.

Wanda, as usual, was keeping her distance—not too far, but just enough to drive you insane.

And Carol? Well, she took one look at you, staring at Wanda like she was the last drink of water in a desert, and cackled.

"Oh my God," she wheezed. "I can’t believe it."

You frowned. "What?"

She grabbed your shoulders dramatically. "You’re in love."

You immediately scoffed. "No—"

"Oh, shut up." Carol grinned like she had just won the lottery. "You swore you’d never fall for anyone. But look at you! You’re pathetic."

"I’m not—"

"Do not even try to deny it," Yelena chimed in from beside Carol, smirking. "It is very obvious."

"Please," Kate added, sipping her drink. "You have 'heart-eyes idiot' written all over you."

Even Natasha nodded, looking far too smug. "It’s honestly painful to watch."

You groaned, shoving Carol’s hands off you. "Okay, fine! Maybe I like her. So what?"

Carol gasped dramatically. "So what? That’s huge!"

"It’s not huge." You crossed your arms. "She doesn’t even like me like that."

Pietro, who had just returned with another drink, let out a sharp laugh. "Are you blind?"

You frowned. "What?"

Your friends all shared a look.

Then, Carol leaned in.

"Let me spell it out for you, dumbass," she said. "Wanda likes you too."

Your heart stopped.

"…What?"

"She does," Natasha confirmed, nodding.

"But she’s fighting it," Yelena added. "Because she is Wanda and she refuses to make anything easy."

"Sounds familiar," Kate muttered, raising an eyebrow at you.

You swallowed. "No way. If she liked me, she’d—she’d—"

"She’d what?" Carol asked, smirking. "Be totally normal and not constantly get flustered when you flirt with her? Not subtly stare at you when she thinks you’re not looking? Not keep showing up even though she pretends you annoy her?"

You blinked.

Shit.

Were they right?

Did Wanda—could Wanda actually—

Your heart pounded.

Carol grinned like she could see your internal panic.

"Oh, this is fun," she said.

Natasha smirked. "This is very fun."

You groaned, shoving your face into your hands.

You were so screwed.

You left the bar that night with your head spinning.

Not from the drinks—you hadn’t had enough for that—but from the sheer chaos of what your friends had just dumped on you.

Wanda liked you? Wanda liked you?

It didn’t make sense.

Sure, you flirted with her constantly, but she always shut you down. She rolled her eyes at you, pushed you away, made a point of seeming utterly unimpressed by your existence.

…But she never actually left.

She never told you to stop.

She never avoided you.

And now that you were thinking about it—really thinking about it—you were starting to realize that all the little things, all the almost moments, meant more than you ever allowed yourself to believe.

You lay awake that night, staring at your ceiling, heart pounding.

What the hell were you supposed to do now?

The answer came sooner than you expected.

And in the form of a very unexpected visitor.

The next day, you were in your dorm room, trying very hard to focus on studying and not spiraling into another existential crisis, when there was a sharp knock on your door.

You frowned.

Carol would’ve just barged in. Yelena too.

Natasha would’ve sent a text first.

Which meant—

You hesitated before opening the door, only for your stomach to drop.

Wanda.

Wearing a hoodie, arms crossed, looking at you like she was debating whether knocking had been a mistake.

Your heartbeat immediately picked up.

"Uh—hey," you said, blinking at her. "What’s up?"

Wanda exhaled sharply, clearly irritated about something, and before you could say anything else, she pushed past you into your room.

You blinked again.

"…Okay, sure, come on in, make yourself at home."

Wanda ignored you, pacing slightly.

You shut the door behind her, raising an eyebrow.

"Alright," you said. "What’s going on?"

She stopped, turned to you, and crossed her arms even tighter.

"Did you make a bet about me?"

Your stomach sank.

Oh, shit.

"Uh—what?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Pietro told me he heard you and your friends betting about me last night."

Of course that little traitor did.

You winced. "Okay, technically—"

"Technically," she cut in, "you were literally betting on whether I liked you or not?"

Shit.

"That makes it sound bad," you tried.

"It is bad," she snapped.

You hesitated. "Okay, yeah. But it’s not—look, it wasn’t meant to be, like, a joke or anything, it was just—"

"Just what?"

You opened your mouth.

And then closed it.

Because, in all honesty, what could you even say?

That your friends had ambushed you into an existential crisis about your feelings? That you had been spiraling about whether or not you actually had a chance with her?

That, up until last night, you hadn’t even let yourself believe that Wanda could like you back?

That even now, standing in front of her, your heart was beating so fast you were afraid she could hear it?

You swallowed hard.

Wanda was watching you carefully, waiting.

You inhaled deeply, exhaled.

And then—

"Yeah," you admitted. "We did."

Her expression didn’t change.

"But not because I think of you as a joke or anything like that," you hurried on. "It was because I—I wasn’t sure if you even liked me at all, and I—I guess I was scared to admit how much I—"

You cut yourself off.

Shit.

Too much.

Wanda blinked. "…How much you what?"

Your throat went dry.

She was looking at you differently now.

Like she was actually listening.

Like she was waiting for an answer.

You swallowed again.

"…How much I like you," you finally admitted, voice quiet.

Wanda went still.

Your heart pounded so hard it hurt.

She wasn’t saying anything.

Why wasn’t she saying anything?

And then, just as the panic started creeping in—

"…You’re an idiot," she muttered.

You barely had time to process it before she stepped closer—and, oh—

Then she was kissing you.

It was fast, impulsive, not careful—like she had spent way too long pretending she didn’t want to, and now that the dam had broken, she had no intention of stopping.

Her hands gripped your hoodie, pulling you in, and you barely had time to react before you were kissing her back, matching her urgency, her desperation.

Your mind spun.

Holy shit.

This was happening.

Wanda Maximoff was kissing you.

And—judging by the way she was still kissing you—she had wanted to for a long time.

When she finally pulled back, breathless, her hands still fisted in your hoodie, you could barely think straight.

"…Wow," you managed.

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

You grinned. "Never."

And then she was kissing you again.

You’d love to say that after that moment—after Wanda had kissed you, after you’d both finally admitted your feelings—it had been smooth sailing.

But, of course, nothing in your life was ever that simple.

For one, your friends were insufferable.

Carol had nearly choked on her protein shake when she saw you and Wanda holding hands on campus the next day. Yelena and Kate had high-fived so aggressively that Kate actually sprained her wrist. Natasha had just given you a knowing smirk and muttered, “Finally.”

And Pietro—

Oh, Pietro.

He had spent an entire week strutting around like he had personally orchestrated your love story. Every time he saw you and Wanda together, he’d nudge her and say, “See, I told you so.”

Wanda had nearly hexed him into next week.

But aside from your friends being absolutely unbearable, things between you and Wanda were… surprisingly easy.

There were no weird growing pains, no awkwardness—just an overwhelming sense of relief. Like finally exhaling after holding your breath for too long.

Now that neither of you had to pretend anymore, it was effortless.

You found yourselves constantly together—stealing quiet moments between classes, studying together in your dorm, holding hands under the table at group hangouts.

And kissing.

A lot of kissing.

Which was exactly what you were doing when someone loudly cleared their throat behind you.

You and Wanda both jumped, pulling apart.

Pietro was standing there, arms crossed, looking way too pleased with himself.

"Am I interrupting?" he asked, grinning.

Wanda groaned. "Yes, obviously."

"Well, too bad." Pietro leaned against the doorway, smirking. "I just came to remind you that we have movie night at my place tonight."

You blinked. "We do?"

"Yes, and you’re both coming," he said, pointing at Wanda before turning to you. "That includes you, lovebird."

Wanda scoffed. "No one invited you to our plans, Pietro."

He shrugged. "I am your twin. That makes me automatically invited to everything you do."

Wanda rolled her eyes, and you just laughed, shaking your head.

There was no point in arguing.

Pietro would always get his way.

And honestly?

You didn’t mind.

Because, for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

And it was only just the beginning.

If someone had told you years ago that you’d end up marrying Wanda Maximoff, you would’ve laughed in their face.

Not because you didn’t think she was the most incredible person you’d ever met—because of course she was. Even when she pretended not to like you, she still made your heart race in a way no one else ever had.

But because you never thought she’d actually feel the same way.

And yet, here you were.

Standing in front of your friends and family, wearing the most ridiculous grin of your life, while Wanda Maximoff—your wife—stood next to you, looking more beautiful than ever.

The journey to this moment had been insane.

From your days in college, where you spent way too long denying your feelings, to Wanda finally kissing you in your dorm room—to moving in together after graduation, supporting each other through every success and failure, every moment of doubt, every hardship.

There had been struggles, of course. Wanda was stubborn. You were stubborn. But there had never been a single moment where you doubted that she was the one you wanted to spend forever with.

And now, with her fingers laced through yours, her wedding ring glinting in the dim reception lights, you couldn’t believe how lucky you were.

It was time for the speeches.

Which, unfortunately, meant it was time for your friends to absolutely roast the two of you.

Carol was the first to stand up, champagne glass in hand and a smirk already forming.

"Alright," she started, "I’m not gonna lie. This might be the most painful slow burn relationship I’ve ever witnessed in real life. And that’s saying something, considering I’ve read fanfiction."

The crowd laughed, and you groaned, burying your face in Wanda’s shoulder while she shook with silent laughter.

"You swore you’d never fall in love," Carol continued, pointing at you. "You lectured us about how love wasn’t for you, how you’d never be one of those people who lost their minds over a girl." She paused, looking at Wanda. "And yet, the moment you met this one, it was game over."

You didn’t even bother arguing.

Carol turned to Wanda. "And you. The way you rejected this idiot over and over again, I swear I thought you hated her."

More laughter. Wanda rolled her eyes but didn’t protest.

Carol smirked. "Turns out, you were just as much of a lovesick idiot as she is. So, congratulations, finally." She raised her glass. "To Wanda and Y/N—may you continue being absolute disasters, just together this time."

Everyone clinked their glasses, and you barely had time to recover before Natasha stood up next.

"I knew this was going to happen," she said simply.

That got some chuckles.

She shrugged. "Seriously. The moment I saw them arguing over who was more competitive at Mario Kart, I knew we were all doomed."

Wanda snorted. "I was more competitive."

You gasped. "Liar!"

Natasha raised a hand. "See? This is what we all had to deal with for years."

You groaned. "We had to deal with you and Yelena placing bets on us!"

Natasha smirked. "Yeah, and I won, so thanks for that."

Wanda nudged you playfully. "Told you we should’ve made our own bet."

Natasha smiled, then softened slightly. "In all seriousness… you two are perfect for each other. And I’m glad you finally saw what the rest of us did. Love you both."

You swallowed hard at that, squeezing Wanda’s hand.

Then Yelena stood up, and you immediately braced yourself.

"Okay," she started, "so technically, I didn’t believe this would happen."

More laughter.

"I mean, really—Wanda spent so much time rejecting Y/N, I was convinced she just enjoyed watching her suffer."

Wanda rolled her eyes. "I did enjoy it."

You gaped at her. "Are you serious?"

"Of course," she said smugly.

Yelena laughed. "See? Evil. But then, I caught her staring at you like you hung the stars, so I knew she was doomed."

You felt Wanda squeeze your hand at that, and when you looked at her, she was already looking at you with that soft, quiet adoration that still left you breathless.

Yelena grinned. "Anyway, I love you both, and I expect at least one niece or nephew out of this marriage."

You choked. "Yelena!"

Kate, who was sitting beside her, elbowed her. "Subtle."

Yelena just shrugged. "What? I’m just saying."

You buried your face in Wanda’s shoulder again while she laughed.

Then, finally, Pietro stood up.

He adjusted his tie, smirking slightly. "I’ll keep this short."

Everyone immediately doubted that.

"From the moment I saw these two interact, I knew one thing: this was either going to end in murder, or marriage."

The entire room burst into laughter.

He grinned. "Luckily, it was the second one. Barely."

You pointed at him. "There’s still time for the first one, Maximoff."

He grinned wider. "And this is why it took you both so long to get here."

Wanda laughed, shaking her head.

"But in all seriousness," Pietro continued, his voice softening, "I’ve watched my sister go through a lot. I’ve seen her struggle, I’ve seen her shut people out. And then you came along."

He turned to you, something genuine in his expression.

"And suddenly, she wasn’t alone anymore."

Your throat tightened.

"You make her happy," Pietro said simply. "And that’s all I’ve ever wanted for her."

Wanda sniffled slightly beside you, and you instinctively reached for her hand.

Pietro raised his glass. "To Wanda and Y/N. You took forever, but you got here in the end. And that’s all that matters."

The room erupted into cheers.

You turned to Wanda, who was already smiling at you, her eyes glistening.

You didn’t say anything.

You didn’t have to.

Because as she leaned in and kissed you, with all your friends cheering around you, you knew—

You’d never been surer of anything in your life.

And you never would be.

Being married to Wanda was everything you imagined and more.

The first few years were filled with adventure—traveling together, lazy Sunday mornings tangled in the sheets, cooking disastrous meals that always ended in takeout, and endless laughter.

You had expected it to be different after the wedding, but truthfully, it wasn’t. If anything, it just felt right. Like the two of you had already been a unit for so long that the official title of "wife" was just the cherry on top.

And Wanda—

Wanda was your home.

She was your morning coffee and late-night whispers. She was the one who made fun of you when you cried at movies, but also the one who pulled you close whenever you needed comfort.

She was your best friend, your greatest love, and—soon enough—the mother of your children.

It had been her idea.

One night, as you lay in bed together, her head on your chest, fingers lazily tracing patterns on your skin, she had whispered, “I want to have a baby.”

You had frozen.

Not because you were against the idea, but because it was so big—so real.

A baby.

A tiny, beautiful human that was half hers, half yours.

It didn’t take long for you to agree.

Because of course you did.

The thought of Wanda as a mother—of raising a family with her—was the easiest "yes" of your life.

The day Billy and Tommy were born was the happiest, most chaotic day of your life.

Wanda was exhausted but radiant, holding both boys in her arms, tears slipping down her cheeks as she looked at them like they were her entire universe.

And you—

You were utterly speechless.

You had thought you knew love before. You thought you had felt it in all its forms.

But nothing compared to the way your heart stopped when you held your sons for the first time.

They were perfect.

Tiny, fragile, and absolutely perfect.

And just like that, your world was never the same.

Billy and Tommy grew up surrounded by love, laughter, and a lot of chaos.

They had an army of aunts and uncles—Carol, Yelena, Kate, Natasha, Pietro, Wong, and even Strange (who somehow got roped into the madness).

Pietro’s daughter, Luna, became like a third sibling, always running around with them, getting into trouble.

Your home was never quiet.

There were always little feet pattering across the floor, endless giggles, and toys scattered everywhere.

And then came Sparky.

You had tried to say no.

You really had.

But Billy and Tommy had inherited Wanda’s puppy-dog eyes, and when they teamed up with her, you never stood a chance.

Sparky became the most spoiled, beloved dog in existence, following the boys wherever they went.

One night, after the boys were asleep and Sparky was curled up at the foot of your bed, you turned to Wanda, taking her hand.

She looked at you, raising an eyebrow. "What’s on your mind?"

You swallowed, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by everything—the love, the life you had built, the sheer happiness that filled every inch of your world.

"I just…" You took a deep breath. "Falling in love with you was the best thing I ever did."

Her eyes softened.

She squeezed your hand, smiling.

"Yeah," she murmured. "Me too."

And then she kissed you.

Soft.

Lingering.

Full of love.

And in that moment, with Wanda by your side, your sons sleeping peacefully down the hall, and Sparky snoring at your feet—

You knew.

This was it.

This was forever.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x you #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #marvel #mcu #avengers

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frflyavenue · 2 months ago

Text

Exam Stress - Matz ver.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Matz x Stressed!Uni student!Reader

Warnings: MDNI (18+) — Stressed reader, sleep deprived reader, university exam season, crying, eating, fluff and smut, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving, m receiving, f giving), vaginal sex, spit-roast, threesome smut, slight power dynamic, soft dom!Hongjoong, switch!Seonghwa, lots of praise

Author’s Note: Giving you guys this update early as compensation for not posting anything on Tuesday—First time writing smut, so let me know what you guys think! UYT chapter 3 still on track to be updated tomorrow <3

WC: 5.1k

School sucks. You’re a great student, one of the best performing in your major, and, according to your boyfriends, the hardest working person they’ve ever seen. You’re positive they’re just gassing you up because they love you, but you’re happy that your work is at least recognized. But it’s getting towards the end of the semester, meaning the whole University is filled with students working overtime. Exams are just around the corner, major essays and projects are being finalized and the party hubs of the city have died down as students rush to get their grades up enough to pass. You’re doing well in your classes, of course, but the end of the semester is always a rough time.

You’ve been working non-stop for the last few weeks, studying for your exams and trying desperately to finish your thesis paper for one of your classes. You lost count of how many hours you’ve worked in the library over the last few days, staying until they close around midnight and going home just to keep working. And while you’ve been able to handle the stress and exhaustion, today it all seemed to come to a head.

You haven’t slept more than a total of 10 hours the last four days, and you haven’t eaten nearly enough to sustain yourself. But honestly, the hormones from the stress were enough to suppress your hunger, so you didn’t pay it much attention. You’re exhausted, honestly, yearning to lay down in bed or even just curl up and sleep on the floor of the library, desperate for rest. But you don’t have time. You huff, slamming your laptop shut, earning a few glances from the other students working the library. You don’t dare look at them, stuffing your laptop in your bag with a sigh. You snatch it up and turn to leave, completely silent as you drive yourself to your apartment.

You fumble with your keys lazily as you try to open the door, finally sighing as it squeaks open. You slip into the apartment, taking off your shoes at the door and heading to the bedroom you share with your two boyfriends. Seonghwa, hearing you, turns around with a warm smile to greet you.

”Hey darling, welcome home. We missed you.”

You look up at him, but the second you see his warm expression, you feel your throat tighten, so you quickly look away. “Ah, yeah, I missed you guys too.” You clear your throat. “I have to work on my paper, so I’m gonna go work for a bit.” You don’t wait for him to respond to walk away to the solace of your bedroom.

Seonghwa walks with his mouth slightly agape as you turn your back to him, not able to say anything. Almost immediately after he gathers his thoughts, he rushes over to the living room, where Hongjoong is splayed out on the couch working on a song. He gently tap his shoulder, and Hongjoong removes one side of the headphones to hear.

”Joongie… I think something’s wrong with our Y/N.” He says worriedly, and Hongjoong snaps his eyes up from the screen to look at him.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Seonghwa runs his hand through his hair, clearly worried. “She came in so quiet, and her face seemed so tired… she hardly acknowledged me when she walked in.”

Hongjoong’s expression grows thoughtful, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. Your recent stress hasn’t gone unnoticed by your two boyfriends for the last few weeks. They’ve watched your eyes grow more and more tired every passing day, and while they’ve tried their best to bring you little snacks or cheer you up with little kisses to your temple when you’ve been working for a while, they’ve mostly let you to your work, not wanting to disturb you. But for Seonghwa to be this concerned now… Hongjoong trusts his boyfriend in thinking that something’s wrong. “Okay… why don’t you go talk to her, hm? I don’t want to overwhelm her with both of us, but I want to check on her.”

Seonghwa hesitantly nods, and Hongjoong presses a comforting kiss to his forehead before letting him go visit you.

You hardly register the knock at the door until it creaks open, and you freeze up, looking over at him with wide, guilty eyes. There are tears streaming down your face, your nose running and your sleeves wet from wiping your eyes. Seeing him, with his beautiful, elegant face twisted in concern taking in the sight of you, you only feel worse. You turn away, desperately attempting to dry your tears as he approaches. You hiccup helplessly as he turns the office chair around so you’re facing him, optnig to hide your face in your hands.

Seonghwa steps closer so he’s standing between your legs, gently pulling you into him. You let your face, still covered by your hands, lean into his stomach, feeling one hand resting protectively on your back while the other rests on the back of your head, his thumb rubbing comforting cicely into your hair. Almost immediately, you let go to wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face deeper into his tummy and sobbing against his hoodie.

Seonghwa feels himself tear up at the sound, his voice softly shushing you while he cradles your head against his body. He doesn’t move, holding you just like that, not planning to ever let you go.

Hongjoong, hearing the gut-wrenching sound from the other room, sneaks into the room, standing behind Seonghwa and rubbing his back. The taller man is blinking back tears, his hands holding you close to him as you let out pitiful sobs of frustration and exhaustion, sounds he’s never heard from you in the two years you all had been dating. Hongjoong, too, feels his throat tighten, distracting himself by silently comforting Seonghwa in the meantime. The three of you remain like until the sound of sobs dies down to sniffles, and Hongjoong moves to kneel next to your chair. He places a hand on your thigh, gently rubbing there.

”Hey, beautiful.” He whispers softly, gently easing your hands down for you to look at him. You do, your swollen eyes meeting his. “Hey… there she is…” His voice is soft and quiet, almost as if he’s talking to a kitten. You're grateful for it, the sound not overwhelming your mind.

You snuffle, leaning into his hand when he moves to cup your cheek. “I-I’m sorry…” you squeak out, and he immediately shakes his head, shushing you.

“No, no ‘sorry’. I can speak for both of us when I say that Seonghwa and I want you to be happy. But part of that means taking care of you when you’re sad, hm?” He just watches you for a moment, gently holding your face in his hands as he kneels in front of you. “…What’s the matter babydoll?”

You close your eyes and try to clear your blurry eyes, opening them again to look down at his loving face. “I… I just got frustrated.” You explain, your voice wobbling pitifully. “I’m so tired, and I have so much to do. But I feel stuck on this stupid paper, and I have to finish it, and…” You trail off, your throat burning as tears slip silently down your delicate cheeks and onto Hongjoong’s delicate hands.

Hongjoong nods, gently wiping the little drops of water away with his thumb, not breaking his gaze. “It’s okay, we’ve got you now. We’re going to go take a break, baby.”

You open your mouth to refuse, but Seonghwa shushes you before you can say anything. “No, no, he’s right Y/N. You need to eat and take a break, or you wont be able to get anything done anyways.” He pauses. “My mom always used to tell me that productivity is subjective. Sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is take a break, eat some good food, and get some sleep. Right now, that’s exactly what would be most productive to you, understand?” His voice is gentle but firm, and his tone gives you no choice but to tentatively agree.

Hongjoong smiles proudly up at Seonghwa, dropping his hands from your face and standing up, offering his hand to you. You take it, letting him pull you up. You sigh longingly as Hongjoong closes your laptop shut, and Seonghwa places a guiding hand on your back as he walks you three to the living room.

While it pains you to step away from your work, you immediately feel relieved as Seonghwa pulls you with him onto the couch, instinctively finding your position on his chest as he lay down with his head resting on the cushy armrest. His hand tangles in your hair, the other rubbing your back up and down in slow, repetitive motions. The steady thumping of heart under your cheek is enough to make you come undone, and your shoulders relax.

Smiling fondly at the sight, Hongjoong sits next to your tangled bodies, opening his phone. “We’re ordering in tonight. What are you feeling, pretty girl?”

The corners of your lips twitch up, though you don’t bother to open your blissfully closed eyes. “Pasta?” You respond, the thought of noodles making your mouth water.

Hongjoong laughs and pats your butt affectionately, ordering you guys a few of your favorite pasta dishes to share.

In the meantime, Seonghwa struggles with the remote, trying to put on a cute animated movie to cheer you up. Finally figuring out what buttons to press, he finds a selection of studio ghibli movies and let you take your pick. Hongjoong calls in to order the food while the two of your start the movie, and as soon as he’s done, he walks back over to the couch. You turn around so you’re laying on your back against Seonghwa’s chest, his arms wrapping around your waist while you reach your arms out to Hongjoong. He smiles brightly before climbing into your arms, laying with his head resting on the soft pillows on your chest and his arms joining Seonghwa’s around your waist. Content to be between both of them, you sigh.

It’s the best you’ve felt in weeks. Seonghwa’s chest rising and falling steadily against your back, Hongjoong snuggled up close to you, letting you tangle your fingers in his hair, the soft strings of the ghibli movie—it was perfect. When you drift off, hands resting limp and calm against Hongjoong’s back and hair and head resting comfortably back against Seonghwa’s happily beating heart… your boys can’t help but feel the same.

NSFW content following the cut ———

You awake groggily at the sudden loss of the comfortable weight on your chest, grumbling at the cold air hitting your front. You open your eyes, Seonghwa giggling lovingly at your state from behind you and Hongjoong nowhere to be seen. You pout, looking around.

”He’s getting our food.” Seonghwa explains softly, his voice hardly above a whisper. You nod, not bothering to move as you hear Hongjoong open the front door and thank the delivery person. He returns with a slight grin, holding up the bag of food victoriously.

You smile, sitting up and moving to get up off the couch. Seonghwa clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction, pulling you back to stay. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You giggle, wriggling weakly in his grasp. “To the table? To go eat dinner?” You respond, your voice already containing more of it’s usual happiness.

Hongjoong laughs and shakes his head, his eyes making pretty crescents. “No, silly, we’re gonna eat in the living room today. It’s treat.”

You gasp, turning to look at Seonghwa. Usually, he’s the one scolding you and Hongjoong about your cleaning and organizational habits, always keeping you both in check. So for him to be letting you eat in the living room…

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, but his grin never leaves his face as he gently lest go and helps Hongjoong unpack the food onto the coffee table. You gasp excitedly, sitting crisscrossed on the floor in front of the couch. Seonghwa ruffles your hair before going to making the three of you bowls of pasta.

The food is delicious, of course. You hum with satisfaction, not remembering the last time you ate a proper meal. Sure, pasta isn’t the healthiest meal, but it sure does hit the spot after not eating anything but protein snacks and the random fruits your concerned boyfriends brought you every once and a while. They seem to notice, not taking their eyes off you as you go silent to eat, eagerly slurping up pasta. Proud to see you feeling better, they also find that the food is especially good—maybe just because you look so happy eating it.

You listen intently as Hongjoong talks about the songs he’s working on, never having felt so happy just to hear him ramble as you are now. Seonghwa is silent, too focused on his food, but he occasionally bumps your shoulders with his legs, still sitting on the couch as you sit on the floor between his legs. It’s been so long since you’ve all gotten to just sit and eat together, between the weird schedule of your classes and studying for finals, Hongjoong’s production, and both of the boys' dance practices. Looking at Hongjoong’s happy face and gently rubbing Seonghwas calf as it cages protectively around your form, you feel yourself tearing up.

”I missed you guys.” You whisper in a beat of silence, taking another bite of pasta to counteract the sentimental tears forming. Hongjoong looks up at you, giving you a delicate smile. Seonghwa sets his bowl down, gently massaging your shoulders as he, also, tries not to cry, not wanting to make you upset.

”We missed you too, babydoll.” Hongjoong replies, and Seonghwa squeezes your shoulder as well in emphasis. He looks thoughtful for a moment, before clearing his throat and setting his bowl down. “Y/N?”

You look up, swallowing your big bite of pasta before responding. “Hm?”

Hongjoong laughs softly, before shaking his head and scooting closer to you, gently taking your hand and holding it in his lap. “Hwa and I love you so much. We never ever want to see you so stressed, yeah? We understand that you have a lot to do—we’re in a similar position a lot of the time. But… just like how you make sure to take care of us when we’re feeling overwhelmed, we want to take care of you too.”

You blink, taken off guard by his sudden seriousness. Senoghwa gently reaches around to tuck your hair back behind your ear. “He’s right. It’s okay to get frustrated, stressed, tired… even just sad. But it’s not okay to completely isolate yourself from everyone around you and push yourself past what your body and mind can handle.” He adds, gently combing through your hair with his fingers. He’s right, you realize. Unknowingly, you had been avoiding your friends and even your two beloved boyfriends, hiding in the library to avoid coming home and staying cooped up in your bedroom at every opportunity under the pretense of discipline. Seonghwa’s words from earlier echo in your mind. Productivity is subjective… Sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is take a break…

You nod slowly, setting your own bowl down. “Yeah… you guys are right,” you admit with a slight look of guilt. “I’ve probably been stressing myself out more than necessary because I’ve been getting so frustrated.” You explain, earning a nod from Hongjoong. You continue. “And… I promise from now on, I’ll rely a little more on you guys. I’m sorry for worrying you.” You meet Hongjoong’s eyes and gently squeeze Seonghwa’s calf, and they coo.

”Such a sweet thing…” Seonghwa praises, squishing your cheek even from his odd position behind you. You blush, suddenly shy, and Hongjoong laughs, lightly hitting Seonghwa’s thigh. The three of you go quiet for a minute, the air lighter.

Interrupting the silence, Hongjoong clears his throat, looking up at you. “Y/N?”

You nod, giggling at his tone. “What? You’ve said my name like that twice already, it’s so cute~”

Hongjoong scoffs and nearly argues, but his blush creeps up his face before he can rebut. He shakes his head. “I’m being serious here!”

You and Seonghwa laugh, but you quickly shake your head and squeeze his shoulder. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead, honey.”

He blushes at the nickname, his personal favorite from you, and clears his throat again. “Well, Hwa and I were talking while you napped, and we wanted to ask if you’d like to let us take care of your stress for you tonight? You know, help you relax a bit..?”

You smile, shaking your head innocently. “No, I’m sorry. There’s not really much you guys can do, my paper is built off of research I’ve been doing all semester. I appreciate the offer, of course, but I should really just write it on my own.”

Hongjoong blinks. He’s known you for a long time, but he will never not be astounded by how your sweet, dense brain works. He laughs in shock. “Hah… geez, Y/N… for somebody so smart, you sure are slow.” He says, and Seonghwa coughs back a laugh before pretending to scold him. You tilt your head.

”Uh… sorry?”

Hongjoong shakes your head, and Seonghwa moves to sit on the floor with you guys, feeling awkward not being able to see your face.

“No, not like that my dear.” He explains. He gently takes your hand and presses it to his lips. “We want to take you to bed, our love. It’s been a while since we could take care of you, hm?”

Your face heats up immediately. Seonghwa has always been the best of you three at initiating this kind of intimate affection, so it shouldn’t come at any surprise. But even after sleeping with your boyfriends hundreds of times… they only get sexier You subconsciously press your thighs together.

Seonghwa just chuckles at your cute reaction, standing up and grabbing the trash from your dinner. “Think it over while I clean dinner up, hm?”

You watch with your mouth slightly agape as he takes the trash to the bin in the kitchen, stunned silent. You turn to look at Hongjoong, who tucks your hair back affectionately.

”Kiss me?” You whisper suddenly, looking up at him shyly through your eyelashes.

Hongjoong smiles softly at your request, cupping your jaw and tilting your head up so he can access your lips. He kisses you softly, his plush lips molding naturally against yours. He turns his head to the side after just a moment, gently licking at your bottom lip, and you part your lips to grant him access. He eagerly intrudes your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours. His hand slowly comes up to rest on your waist, his thumb slipping under the hem of your shirt and rubbing easy circles over the smooth, delicate skin there. You hum into his mouth and rest your hands on his shoulders for support, desperate to taste more. It’s been a long time, you realize, since you’ve done anything like this with your boyfriends. You’ve missed it.

Seonghwa returns, raising an eyebrow at the sight and sitting on the side of the couch, opting to just watch for a little while. He knows he’ll get his turn.

Sure enough, Hongjoong pulls away just for a moment at seeing Seonghwa sit down, leaving you whining. He clicks his tongue.

”Tsk tsk… patience babydoll. Lie down on the couch for me, hm?”

You nod and quickly position yourself comfortably on the couch, happy when Hongjoong climbs over top of you and continues kissing you. To your dismay, he refuses giving you entrance back into his mouth, instead moving to press slow, open mouthed kisses down your jaw. You breathe heavier at the sensation, letting out shameless little gasps and whimpers when he nips sensitive parts of your neck. Almost too swift to notice, Hongjoong slides his hands up under your shirt, pulling it up over your head in one smooth motion before crawling downward to kiss your collarbone, lingering around the straps of your bra. Just before you feel yourself growing impatient, he unclips the fabric barrier as if reading your thoughts, gently sliding it down your shoulders to reveal your soft breasts.

He exhales in wonder at the beautiful sight, reaching one hand up to gently palm at the flesh there. “God, baby… how could I have ever forgotten how much I missed these pretty things, hm?”

You blush shyly at his praises, his tone of voice one that always gets you in a space ready and wanting to please. You arch your back impatiently, the cold air leaving you desperate for their touch. Hongjoong smiles, letting you get away with it for now and leaning down to gently take the soft flesh of your breast into his mouth.

You gasp slightly as his tongue caresses the bud of your breast, comforted with the feeling of his mouth tenderly kissing the plush skin there. You pet his hair in return, and Seonghwa reaches a hand up to rub Hongjoongs back encouragingly, fond of watching his lovers feeling good.

After a few minutes of getting you slowly more and more needy from Hongjoongs touches, Seonghwa finally moves to tug at the waist of your pants, easing them down your thighs and folding them neatly on the other side of the couch. He repositions himself to be propped on his elbows between your thighs, and you shiver when you recognize the position. His breath brushes against the heat between your thighs as he leans forward, turning his head to suck at the skin of you plush thighs. He gently kneads the soft flesh under his hands, slowly easing your thighs further apart as he inches up closer to where you need him. You roll your hips forward, desperate.

Seonghwa smiles, finally leaning forward and licking a fat stripe from your leaking entrance up to your clit, stopping there to suck on the bundle of nerves there. You gasp at the sudden stimulation, arching your back into his tongue and earning a delicious hum from him. “God, you taste so good…” Seonghwa moans into your dripping folds. He rolls his tongue expertly over the now erect bud while Hongjoong switches to sucking small marks into your collarbone, the combination sending you reeling.

When Seonghwa suddenly slides two fingers inside of you, you finally let out a full moan, earning a smile from both men. Hwa’s fingertips brush against the perfect spot inside, and combined with his tongue messily lapping up your juices and Hongjoongs attention back on your breasts, you nearly cum on the spot.

Hongjoong places a hand on Seonghwa’s head, signaling for him to stop.

You pant as you come down from the edge. “I want more,” you manage to get out in between breaths, looking up at Hongjoong.

He chuckles. “Such a needy little thing, hm?” You pout, and he giggles, finding you cute. “Bend over the side of the couch.” Seonghwa glances over at him with surprise at his suddenly domineering tone. Hongjoong just shrugs. “If our baby wants it so bad, then let’s give it to her. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how naughty our girl is, hm?”

Seonghwa glances over at you with concern, wanting to make sure it’s really what you want. He doesn’t have to worry for long, though, since you’re already scrambling to bend over with your elbows propped up on the armrest of the couch. He lets out a surprised laugh. “God, Joong. Maybe I did forget.”

Hongjoong smirks, his adoring eyes raking over your submissive position. “Seonghwa, tell me baby, do you want her pussy or her mouth? You get first pick today.”

The pretty man needs no time to decide. “Can I please get her pussy today, Joongie?”

Hongjoong nods and presses a sweet kiss to Seonghwa’s cheek. “Of course you can, love. Thank you for asking so nicely.”

While you can’t see them talking behind you in your current position, the way they talk to each other alone makes you blush. The three of you all love each other so much, there’s no doubt about it. And even when Hongjoong takes over a more dominant role, he’s never really mean, making sure his partners know that his priority is always taking care of them. You smile softly, in your thoughts, when you feel Seonghwa climb on the couch behind you.

You grip the arm of the couch in anticipation. Seonghwa presses the head of his dick against your folds, rubbing it along your clit and spreading your love juices around. You drop your head at the feeling, biting back a moan. When he finally slides in, though, you can’t help but groan out his name, pushing your hips back against him until he’s fully seated inside of you.

Hongjoong hums in satisfaction as he watches, reaching to rub comforting circles on the smooth skin of your back. “Deep breaths, baby. Does it feel good?”

You nod immediately, a little too eager. “Y-yes…” You hiss.

Hongjoong chuckles. “Good girl. Seonghwa, baby, don’t move until I tell you to.” Seonghwa groans but agrees nonetheless. Hongjoong walks around to the side of the couch where you’re facing, cupping your jaw. “Stick out your pretty tongue for me.”

You obey, parting your lips quickly and letting your tongue drop out for him, too far gone to be embarrassed about how much saliva you’re producing. He bites his lip, stroking his fully erect length in front of your face, giving you the most perfect view. When he finally rubs the bulbous head of his pretty cock against your tongue, you hum. He doesn’t do much more for a while, leaving both you and Seonghwa, who is essentially just being cockwarmed, impatient. But just before you lose your composure and ask hm outright to just fuck your throat, he finally slides his length into your mouth.

You eagerly wrap your lips around him, tightening them expertly and sliding your tongue over the underside of his pretty length, making him roll his eyes back.

“Hon- ah god… you’re so good, baby. So perfect-“ He pants, placing a hand on the back of your head and bottoming out in your throat. While he isn’t quite as long as Seonghwa, you’ve always thought that his dick fits perfectly in your mouth. Just enough to make you feel full without causing any painful gagging. You hum around him, and he finally breaks. “Oh god- Hwa, baby, move… I don’t know how long I can last…”

Seonghwa doesn’t have to be asked twice. Without warning, he starts thrusting in and out of you firmly, holding onto your waist for support. You gasp, not caring about volume anymore as he pounds into you, each thrust calculated and firm. Hongjoong can feel you rocking from Seonghwa’s relentless pace, and he lets out a low groan, holding tightly onto a fistful of your hair. “Babydoll, can I fuck your throat? P-please?”

You blink up at him expectantly in response, and he tilts his head back as he finally slides slowly in and out of your mouth.

Hongjoong slowly begins to fuck your mouth, savoring every inch as he watches your throat stretch around him. His hand remains steady on the back of your head, but he never pushes further than you can take—he knows your limits too well. Your eyes water slightly from the fullness, but the way both your boyfriends are moaning, praising you, touching you, has your arousal spiking all over again.

Behind you, Seonghwa is groaning softly under his breath, his thrusts now faster, deeper, his hips snapping into yours with growing desperation. “Fuck, you feel so good, love,” he pants, leaning forward to press kisses to your spine as he grinds into that sweet spot that makes your whole body shiver. His fingers tighten on your waist, and you can feel how close he is by the way his movements get a little sloppier.

“God, she’s dripping, Hwa,” Hongjoong murmurs with a breathless laugh, hips stuttering forward as you suck him harder, slurping around his cock like it’s the only thing you need. “Our baby’s soaking you.”

Seonghwa lets out a shaky whine, the sound sending heat straight to your core. “I—fuck, Joongie, I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” Hongjoong growls through his teeth, voice tight with restraint. “Wait for her. Baby,” he coos down to you, pulling slowly out of your mouth with a wet pop. “Do you wanna cum?”

You nod frantically, voice hoarse with need. “P-please—I’m so close…”

“Then do it,” Seonghwa chokes out, slamming into you just right as he reaches around to rub quick circles on your clit. “Cum for us, baby. Let us feel you.”

It takes nothing more. Your orgasm crashes over you, thighs shaking as you scream out their names, walls clenching around Seonghwa’s cock in desperate pulses. He gasps, loud and broken, and finally lets go, spilling inside you with a deep, satisfied groan, hips grinding into you to ride it out. His head drops between your shoulder blades, breath hot and fast.

The sight of his two lovers feeling so good is enough for Hongjoong. He jerks himself off over your tongue, the pace of his fist desperate and sloppy. He jerks forward, trembling as he cums in front of you, thick spurts of release painting your tongue. You swallow up every drop on instinct, humming softly as he pants and wipes the corner of your lips with his thumb, utterly dazed.

For a long moment, all that fills the room is the sound of your shared, panting breaths. Seonghwa slowly pulls out, careful not to hurt you, and places a tender kiss to the curve of your lower back before helping you back onto the couch properly.

You collapse back onto Seonghwa chest, arms wide open for Hongjoong as he makes his way back around to the seat of the couch.

“Holy shit,” you mutter with a breathless laugh as Hongjoong climbs in next to the two of you, placing a loving hand on your thigh.

Hongjoong kisses your forehead, smiling contentedly. “We’ve really missed this.”

Seonghwa hums his agreement against your shoulder, holding you tighter.

You smile, eyes fluttering closed as exhaustion finally catches up with you. “Me too,” you whisper, yawning. Wrapped between your two lovers, bodies warm and sticky and pressed together, it’s hard not to feel sleepy.

The two men notice with fond expressions, glancing at each other.

Seonghwa kisss your cheek. “Alright, love, let’s go get you cleaned up. Something tells me it’s bedtime.”

You let out a breathy laugh, nodding.

“I love you guys.”

#ateez x female reader #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez hongjoong #ateez hard hours #ateez fluff #ateez seonghwa #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #matz #matz x reader #seonghwa x hongjoong #matz smut #first smut

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saetoru · 2 years ago

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。MEET UGLY — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

contents. college au!, rich boy! gojo, first meets, slight meet ugly but mainly he’s just annoying, established relationship in second scene, banter + fluff, kissies for da princess boy <3

dating gojo has always been, and will always be, the biggest unforeseen plot twist of your life.

the first time you encounter gojo satoru, it’s in literature class. he laughs with that dark haired friend of his a bit too loudly in the back while you try to share your thoughts on the reading from last night—it’s not that you particularly care for the class, but you’re trying to get the participation points, and you don’t want some slacking jackass to ruin that for you.

you throw him a glare over your shoulder, making him pause and blink before he shoots you a cheshire grin. you swear you hear a chuckle from the distance as you turn and continue speaking.

the second time you stumble across him is in line at the campus coffee shop. it’s the first day of the semester, and you have class in fifteen minutes across campus, but you’re tired. incredibly so—working shifts back to back late into the night is not doing you any favors, but you have to afford gas money and textbooks somehow.

you need caffeine, and you need it quick so you can make it to class on time.

except the tall, snow-haired stranger in front of you is making that very difficult as he takes forever and lists his wildly long list of syrups and add ons for his drink—seriously, who can even stomach a drink like that? you crinkle your nose as you imagine how sweet it must be. what irritates you more is that he pays for his ridiculously expensive drink that’s far too sweet for eight am with a black card. you glare daggers into the back of his head, wishing you could crack his skull in two with your stare alone.

and then he turns, raises a brow as he stares at you calculatingly—and then his lips turn into a grin as he seems to recognize you. great, you think.

“hey, weren’t you in lit class with me last semester?” he asks, making you sigh as you purse your lips.

“yes. now please move, i need to order and get to class.”

“she curved that final exam pretty generously, i thought i was going to fail—”

“i’ll take a large double shot,” you mumble, ignoring him as you place your order. you can feel his stare from the side as you pay.

“that’s pretty strong, don’t you think?” he asks, making you throw a glare at him from over your shoulder, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

it only seems to amuse him more, making you grit your teeth—how irritating could someone even manage to be? there’s got to be some sort of record he’s holding for most nerves he’s ticked off within the span of two meets.

“well, assuming from the fact that you’re a college student with a black credit card,” you huff, “you probably haven’t had to work a single night shift in your life.”

you put away your own card as you speak—one that’s not black, and one that’s going to have a very high bill due soon from the textbooks you’ll have to purchase.

“i like you,” he grins, “you’re funny. how about i—”

you cut him off again, done interacting for the morning. “have a nice day,” you say curtly, walking over to the wait area for your drink.

he seems entirely amused by your attitude—which only pisses you off more. does everything seem to make his lips quirk into that annoying smirk of his? and why is it so handsome? what a waste of such a gorgeous face to be paired with such an insufferable personality. and, because the universe hates you, he waits around for you even after he gets his drink, following you out the door when you grab yours and leave.

“how about i take you out for coffee tomorrow?” he grins, “i’ll pay with that black card you like so much.”

what an asshole—you hope he gets hit by a car and loses a few teeth.

“no.”

“c’mon, it’ll be fun—”

“no.”

“okay,” he chuckles, “feisty. i like it.”

and then, as you turn the corner, he turns with you, walking leisurely behind you as he sips that disgustingly sugary drink of his.

“what the fuck,” you hiss, “why are you following me?”

“i’m not,” he says innocently, “why are you following me?”

where are all the cars in the streets when you need them? and why haven’t they hit him yet?

“i’m walking ahead of you jackass,” you huff, “how can i be following you?”

“oh yeah?” he takes a few strides with those abnormally long legs of his, walking ahead of you as he shoots you an amused grin over his shoulder. “now you’re following me. does that mean you changed your mind about that date?”

“you wish,” you seethe.

a few more steps, and he walks into the same building as you. great—you’ll likely be running into him every morning then. a few more steps and he’s turning the hall to the same hall as you. wonderful—you’ll probably have to deal with him to the walk to class too. a few more steps, and then you realize he’s entering the same class that you’re entering.

fucking fantastic. just what you needed. absolutely divine luck—the universe has really handed you the largest pair of clown shoes it could find.

of course he of all people would be in class with you for another semester—and he seems to brighten considerably when he realizes he’s in your class too, because his grin widens even more.

“well, look at that,” he says brightly, “you followed me all the way to class. we might as well be seatmates.”

“don’t even think about sitting near me,” you warn, “i’m going to go that way. you go that way.”

he does not go the way you point—instead, he chuckles and plops down right beside you. how on earth could someone be so easy to despise? of all the empty seats in the entirety of the lecture hall, he just has to choose the seat right next to you.

for a moment, you contemplate skipping this class entirely and trying to teach yourself everything before the tests just so you don’t have to see him—you’ve done that enough times, it shouldn’t be too hard. but then you remember that this course is notorious for having a semester long paired project that weighs for a hefty amount of your final grade—skipping is not an option.

so, with veins ready to pop any second, and an oncoming migraine, you sit through all of lecture trying to ignore the absolute worst guy you’ve ever met. not only is he rude and obnoxious and overly confident to a fault—but he’s also rich and spoiled and privileged to live in a realm entirely separate from your reality.

you think you might just hate him.

you’re broken from your thoughts when you hear your name as the professor lists the pairs she’s already made from the roster for the semester’s project. this is great, you think, she’ll call someone’s name, and you’ll have that as an excuse to sit with them and avoid the nuisance sat beside you.

everything is fine. you’ll be free in just a few moments. it’ll all be over soon.

“gojo satoru,” she calls, “if you could raise your hand so your partner knows who to find after class.”

then, as if in slow motion, the very same guy who ruined your morning raises his hand, looking over at you absolutely enthused as his eyes sparkle through the top of his sunglasses—which, only an asshole would wear sunglasses indoors.

“hey partner,” he chuckles, “how about coffee tomorrow to discuss our project?”

—————

satoru likes to think that even with his unfortunate start with you on the wrong foot, he’s managed a steady relationship with you.

you don’t tell him to get hit by a car anymore—instead, now you kiss his forehead before bed every night, hold his hand and swing his arm with yours when you’re out, cuddle him after long days and talk about life, and sometimes—when he’s been extra good, you might even do other activities with him that include a whole lot of intimacy and exclude a whole lot of clothing.

he likes to think you’re pretty in love with him—and he’s proud to claim himself as your adorable, sweet, very handsome and extremely funny boyfriend. although, you don’t really ever call him all that, but he’s fairly confident you think it, and that’s close enough.

“baby,” gojo pokes your arm from his spot on your lap, “on a scale of one to ten, how cute would you say i am?”

“an eleven when you shut up and let me work,” you mumble, stroking his hair with one hand and doing calculus problems with the other.

he pouts, huffing in disbelief.

“you know, if you keep taking me for granted, you might lose me,” he says petulantly.

it earns a snort from you as you give him an amused look.

“toru, i think your mom would pay me to get back together with you if we ever broke up.”

“she would not,” he gasps, watching as you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“remember our first fight? you practically starved yourself in your room,” you giggle, “she had to beg me to come talk to you so you’d eat.”

“that’s not true! i had kitkats and coke zero in my room,” he defends himself, crossing his arms as he sits up. “i was fine.”

“you definitely cried yourself to sleep,” you snicker, “you’re hopeless without me.”

“i am just fine without you,” he lies through his teeth, turning away from you as he tilts his head up indignantly.

“remember when you couldn’t even last a week without me while i was studying for finals? and then your mom had to call and beg me again to spend time with you?”

“that’s not—”

“admit it, toru,” you grin cheekily, pinching his nose as you chuckle, “you’d probably die if we ever broke up.”

“and you’d be fine?” he asks incredulously—he’s almost distressed at the idea, staring at you in slight hurt that makes you laugh before setting your calculus homework aside.

you grab his arm and pull him into your side, kissing his head as he slumps onto your chest.

“i don’t know, i don’t think i’d mind watching a mopey satoru beg me to take him back.”

“you don’t deserve me,” he grumbles, “i deserve to be loved and cherished. i’m a catch.”

“i bet you’d make that ugly face of yours when you cry,” you tease, making him look up at you with an offended gasp.

“i’ll have you know i’m exceptionally pretty when i cry. the waterworks have gotten me loads of things from my mom—i’m irresistible.”

“you’d probably be on your knees in seconds,” you continue to poke fun at him, “please take me back. i’m nothing without you, baby,” you mock his voice, giggling as he glares at you unimpressed.

“now you’re just being a bully. do you even love me?”

“i do,” you grin softly, pecking his cheek, “i love you a ton. you know that.”

“you don’t act like it,” he grumbles.

you laugh, hugging him tighter as your fingers slip into his hair again. sometimes, you think you should be shocked you’re here—laying in bed with gojo satoru and kissing his cheeks as he pouts. you of the past might just kill you of the present if you saw yourself now….but something about gojo is charming enough that you can overlook the very annoying first impression you had.

enough that maybe….well, maybe you might also be a bit hopeless without him—but you’ll never tell him that.

something tells you he knows, though, when he wraps a strong arm around you and pulls you impossibly closer, kissing the corner of your lips as he grins.

“what about that time you got soooo jealous?” he grins, “we weren’t even together yet. and remember that time you begged my mom to take home baby pictures of me? you’re obsessed,” he says proudly, “i would be too. i’m adorable.”

“you’re a pain is what you are,” you mutter.

“i love you too,” he chuckles, burying his head into your shoulder.

you grin, the curves of your lips painted with love as they find his forehead, pressing delicate kisses to the skin. maybe being paired for a semester long project with the annoying rich boy in your class wasn’t so bad—maybe you owe finding the softest love you’ve ever had to the strict and unpleasant professor who gave you an A- when you definitely deserved an A.

“and how are you so sure i love you?” you ask playfully. he rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers with his.

“because you haven’t hit me with your car yet,” he bites back, making you laugh brightly.

plssss i want him so bad i cannot take it anymore every day without him feels like pins and needles in my skin it’s utter agony i feel like my life’s meaning has been stripped from me i feel like my lungs and heart both burn from the lack of oxygen i feel like i am but an empty shell with no soul lost and wandering the planet searching for a reason to go on

ps. if you have been reading along w rb! gojo i hope you caught some of the references to old drabbles ;)

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff

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babyjinsu · 15 days ago

Text

˗ˏˋ ꒰ secret ꒱ ˎˊ˗

sunghoon x fem!reader || 2k

౨ৎ kidnapping, sunghoon locks you in a closet, open-ending, sunghoon is crazy and delusional and hallucinating.

sunghoon has a secret absolutely no one can know about.

he lives—or tries to, and he’s great at it—like anyone else. smiling, nodding, attending classes, and social events in university. his grades are good. professors love him. girls have crushes on him. everyone wants to hang out and be around him.

but sunghoon has a secret absolutely no one can know about.

because inside his apartment, behind a locked bedroom door and deeper still—behind another locked closet door and tucked beneath his winter and autumn coats—lives the part of him no one would believe.

you.

he calls you a secret because to the rest of the world, you’ve disappeared.

but lately, the world has started to notice again.

——

“have another glass, sunghoon!” his classmate, jake said, loud and lazy with alcohol as he poured sunghoon another glass of beer. the golden, fizzy liquid splashed into the glass. foam fizzing over the rim.

sunghoon laughed, rolling his eyes. “dude i gotta drive home but… alright.” he chuckled, accepting the glass he had no intention to drink anyway.

the tables were full with their classmates buzzing—half-drunk and red-faced. gossiping, shitting on professors and people they didn’t like. this was supposed to be a break for all of them, a breather, a night to forget midterms and laugh about it.

but then someone said something sunghoon didn’t really… adore.

“...you remember that girl during our first semester? the one who… went missing?”

sunghoon’s hand around his glass tightened but he didn’t flinch. he tried not to show it on his face that he was affected by the topic. instead, he sipped from his glass, eyes glancing back and forth between the tabletop grill and the girls.

“yeah,” her friend answered, a little too loud compared to the previous girl’s soft and almost-cautious voice. “what was her name again? i just remembered her being really pretty but so quiet.”

“oh, it’s yn,” jake suddenly chimed in, too casual. if sunghoon could stop time, he’d cut jake’s tongue with the scissors in front of them—but that’s not possible. “she was so sweet and smart.” he continued, sipping his beer.

sunghoon swallowed hard—not from the jealousy (sorta, but that’s not the main emotion he felt) but slight fear and discomfort—he wanted to interrupt and change the conversation—drift the topic elsewhere where he knew they’d be on it—even going as far to announce that tonight’s dinner was on him. but… his tongue was too heavy.

one small slip up and everyone will know his secret.

he forced a light chuckle instead, because if he didn’t, the look on his face might spill it all. “c’mon,” he said, keeping his voice even. he lifted his glass to his mouth in hopes to cover up the way his bottom lip slightly trembled. “don’t make it sound like she died.”

jake blinked, shrugging. “i mean, she’s been missing for over a year now. saw her once during our first semester, and now we’re almost done with our studies.”

sunghoon’s ears rang. a year.

three hundred sixty-five days of split second paranoia.

the table fell quiet again, the tension slowly creeping in. for a moment, only the sizzle of meat on the grill filled the silence. “she was pretty too,” the girl beside jake murmured. “you know yeonjun had a crush on her then but he was too scared to talk to her.” she continued with a small chuckle, pointing discreetly with the bottom of her glass at yeonjun who sat on a different table.

“someone talked to her, clearly,” another girl snorted, laughing like it’s a joke.

sunghoon’s smile faltered for the briefest second. he didn’t like the way they spoke about you—so carelessly. how they could laugh about your disappearance and found entertainment in it. he lightly twirled his glass, watching the golden liquid swirled around the cup, eyes casted down, lips pressed into a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“that’s not funny,” another chimed in fast, hitting the girl on her forearm. she winched playfully. “i saw her posters all over the station this morning,” they added. “looks like the family’s going all in again. they were standing in front of the station asking people to come forward with tips.”

sunghoon saw it too. after five months of your disappearance, he saw your mother holding up flyers with your pretty smiling face and your father handing out leaflets to people who would toss them in bins ten steps later. your name printed in bold black ink, below MISSING—in red like you’re dead—like a permanent stain.

you’re not dead… you’re just sleeping in his closet.

he even took it from your brother and picked up the ones people discarded too, the ones crumpled on the streets. he stored them in a box, deep in his closet drawer next to your IDs, your hairbrush, your files of certificates and personal information. he’d never admit it out loud, not even to himself, but sometimes sunghoon took them out to feed his ego of owning (he doesn’t really like that word. he doesn’t own you—the two of you belong to one another)—having the thing that they were looking for.

they didn’t care about you when you were there.

and now that you’re back to him, suddenly they all wanted you back.

“i feel so bad for them. i heard that yn’s on scholarship because of her family’s financial situation… and now they have to deal with this.” a girl murmured like it’s another one of her thoughts, sipping her beer every now and then.

“she’s their only daughter and you know how shitty our police are. i hope they find her.” jake sighed, pouring himself another glass. sunghoon’s smile was tight but he didn’t respond. he wanted to nod like everyone else, but he didn’t want to manifest it—so he didn’t. and slowly, much to sunghoon’s relief, the conversation and topic shifted into something else entirely—like your disappearance was just another fleeting topic.

he was grateful, and he would’ve stayed longer with his friends had it not been for his anxiety spiking up every passing second at the thought of your parents and the police suddenly breaking down his door and finding you. they’d come in with guns and flashlights and dogs and call your name—and you’d reply with a muffled scream.

and it would all be over.

sunghoon’s little secret that he’s kept so long from the world.

so he took his coat and pushed his chair back with a scraping sound. his friends barely noticed as they were half-drunk and already slipping into shallow talk about final projects.

“i’ve got to go,” he muttered quickly, fishing some money out—not counting, couldn’t count—and placed it in infront of jake, trying his best to not look like he’s rushing or panicking. he probably paid for his friends’ portion too, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. not right now. not when something more worthy than his own being was at his delusion’s risk.

“really?” jake looked up, his brows furrowed. “mom’s mad or girlfriend’s pissed?” he continued with a joke.

sunghoon smiled and let out a light, awkward, chuckle. “girlfriend’s lonely.”

——

sunghoon had never rushed home so quickly as he did that night. he went over the speed limit and didn’t slow down when making turns. his heart slammed against his ribs as he pictured it again—your father lifting your frail body against his and taking you out of sunghoon’s apartment. they’d find your belongings, your clothes, your toiletries, the duct tape and the blindfolds, the cuffs and the toys. your brother finding the light bruises from months ago when you were a brat on your soft skin. he imagined your mother breaking down and pulling you tight into her warm embrace.

he almost cried and crashed into a traffic pole but he knew he had to ensure that you were still there, tucked in silence in his room before dying in a car accident.

by the time he reached his apartment, his body was numb. he didn’t take the elevator, he climbed up the stairs up till his 7th floor. his door was still locked as how he left it before leaving for the party but he still fumbled with his keys, heart pounding with every click of the lock. every second that passed, sunghoon imagined someone watching and waiting to storm in behind him.

or worse, they’re already inside, coming in through the window and waiting to shoot at sunghoon the moment he swung open the door.

he slipped inside, shut the door behind him quickly and locked it twice, then thrice with the additional locks he installed for you.

sunghoon didn’t let himself calm down just yet. the room was dim with the only light coming from under the door of the bathroom. still how he left it—but what if it was on purpose? he rushed and unlocked the closet door and—

you were still there. like a diary content locked behind a heart-shaped lock.

relief hit him so hard he nearly choked on it.

you were asleep. curled into yourself with your knees pulled in, wrists still bound in rope at your back—fraying from use, but still not enough for you to break. a strip of tape rested over your mouth, edges slightly wrinkled from your breathing.

you were lying on his spare bed sheet folded over twice, barely enough cushion for the hard floor but it’s cleaner than the closet carpet. sunghoon made a mental note to buy a fluffier quilt for you.

you twitched in your sleep, and his breath hitched.

still here. still alive. still his.

he just stood there for a moment, his shadow looming over you. watching your chest rise and fall. that rhythm had become familiar and comforting to him, like a ticking clock. then, slowly, he crouched and brushed a strand of hair from your cheek.

sunghoon leaned in, “three more months, then we leave,” he whispered, voice low, close to your ear. he fought the urge to nip the shell of your ear. “they’re getting close, i can feel it. it’s making me restless.” he chuckled, opting to place a chaste kiss on your temple instead.

your eyelids fluttered, the whites of your eyes rolled for a moment before focusing.

“i’d kill you before i let them find you, yn.”

if the world was starting to look for you again, sunghoon would just have to take you somewhere the world couldn't reach.

——

“oh? sunghoon! where are you off to?”

the hallway was silent this early in the morning. he was waiting for the elevator when the landlord called him.

sunghoon turned slowly, forcing a smile as he looked back at the older women standing with a half-eaten bread in hand. “vacation? she asked, squinting and pointing at the luggage beside him. “young people are always so quick to take off…” she laughed.

he let out a soft chuckle, hand tightening on the handle of the suitcase. “yeah, just visiting home for a few days.”

she stepped closer. “so early in the morning? and goodness, that thing looks heavy!”

“it’s mostly books and stuff,” sunghoon said quickly, straight out of his teeth. “i’m done with uni now so… just wanted to clear out my shelves bit by bit.” he shrugged, pulling the luggage close against his leg.

the landlord nodded and wrinkled her nose. “well, don’t get sick. it’s still cold outside. your cheeks are all flushed.”

“yeah, i’ll be careful. “ he replied, nodding his head politely. “you too.”

the elevator dinged, much to his relief.

sunghoon moved quickly, dragging the large black suitcase behind him on worn wheels. it bumped over uneven tile, and enough to raise goosebumps on his neck. but he didn’t stop. he could not stop. as he stepped in, dragging his luggage behind him, he heard her mutter something about him being such a nice boy.

and the doors slid shut.

his secret is still safe.

not in his closet anymore, but something more compact.

💭 mmm my favourite... do u think reader dies or nah... so good i just imagine sunghoon to stuff reader in like a fetus(?) position and puts her inside the luggage and zip it n mfrojfier thisis so fucking hot sorry

#enhypen #enhypen oneshots #enhypen oneshot #enhypen imagines #dark enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fic #sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon oneshots #sunghoon oneshot #dark sunghoon #sunghoon fic #sunghoon x reader

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selenitesdawn · 8 months ago

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Temperance (1/3)

pairing: wanda maximoff x female!reader plot: Your best friend Kate convinced you to do charity work in Sokovia with some of your old classmates, including your former bully Vision and his girlfriend Wanda Maximoff, who you inconveniently took too much of a liking in. warnings: 18+ !! minors dni. wanda is with vision... also, suggestive content I guess word count: 1115

Patience is a virtue. Patience is the solution. These have been your only thoughts for days now. From a self-imposed affirmation to a recurring echo in your head, this reminder is all you had to get through the situation at hand. What else could you do? Keep trying to ignore your desire? The craving that has kept you awake for days and nights?

The thing is, you may be able to trick your brain for a while. Convince yourself that the way her nose wrinkles when she grins doesn't do anything to you. That the way her middle and ring finger draw the same patterns over and over again on the pages of her book whenever she is deep in thought, doesn't stir something inside of you. That the muffled moans coming from her and Vision's room at night don't bother you. Your brain has managed to lie to itself for a long time, but you can no longer ignore what Wanda is doing to you. So instead of denying your feelings, you decided that you have to sit through them. Until you can finally leave this place.

You weren't planning on pining after your old classmate's girlfriend, but here you were. Miles away from home, locked up with the constant reminder that you can never be with Wanda the way you want to. Originally, the three months in Sokovia were supposed to fulfill you. You just wanted to take care of the local street dogs with your best friend Kate. Do something good. That was it.

“Come on y/n, you've always had a heart for street animals,” your best friend said to you at the time. Back then she turned up at your door without a warning and told you about this great trip Vision had planned.

“Kate, I barely got anything done last semester. I can't waste another one. Besides, my boss never gives me that long of a vacation.”

You knew Kate wouldn't leave your apartment until you said yes. You could tell by the way her eyes were gleaming. How she slightly bend over the table you were sitting at, her gaze not leaving you for one second. Of course, the whole thing is much easier for Kate. Her mother is filthy rich. Kate can basically do whatever she wants. She could disappear for one year, travel the world with money she didn't earn and wouldn't have to worry about her life back home for one moment. You don't have that luxury.

“Think about it. First of all, you do something that fulfills you. Besides, I know you y/n. You haven't wanted to work in that rancid bakery for months. We'll find something new for you afterwards. Not to mention that volunteering to help street dogs for three months looks great on your CV. Plus: I heard Vision rented a mansion”

Vision. The name alone triggered something in you. Vision is not only the son of the famous billionaire Tony Stark, but also a giant asshole. Before Vision knew you were friends with Kate, he took every opportunity to trigger you in some way. Like standing in front of your locker with his group of followers for no reason, just so you couldn't get to it. The worst thing he ever did was probably when he stole your notebook and read out loud in class what you had written about your former classmate Natasha. Some cheesy and cringe poem you managed to suppress from your memories. From that day on, it wasn't just the whole school that knew you liked women. You also were never able to look Natasha in the eye again. But Vision somehow always managed to come out of it okay. His reputation was disgustingly squeaky clean.

“It's so weird imagining Vision doing something voluntarily that doesn't serve only himself. Are you sure he isn't just joking?,” you had asked back then.

“I think he has really changed since high school. Besides, his girlfriend is originally from Sokovia and I think it was her idea? I don't know for sure. But please, y/n, join me. I'd do anything to spend more than an hour a week with my best friend. And this is a once in a lifetime opportunity! Vision specifically asked if you want to join.”

You've never been able to deny Kate a wish. But also, it's never led you into such a miserable situation before. So this is where you were. In a villa far too grand for it to feel like a prison. Besides Vision, Wanda and Kate, there were two other old classmates; Steve and Bucky. Living together turned out to be easier than you thought, especially considering the fact that Vision was there. But your feelings for Wanda kept causing you problems. Whenever the redhead came near you, you started to stumble over your words. One long look alone could throw you completely off balance. But it was even worse when she smiled at you. When she listened to you and her head slightly tilted at the same time. Or when you were cooking and she suddenly appeared behind you, her hand softly placed around your waist and her head set down on your shoulder.

“What are you blessing us with this evening?,” she inquired with an almost teasing tone in her voice.

Before you were able to even articulate anything, she took her free hand, slid it along your arm and took the wooden spoon out of your hand.

“May I?,” her voice dangerously low, as she already moved the spoon towards her mouth, looking straight at you. You just gulped and managed a small nod as Wanda put the spoon in her mouth, her gaze never leaving you as she sucked it clean. Her green eyes were barely visible as her dilated pupils covered them almost completely. A soft moan escaped from her lips as she handed the spoon back to you.

“You're so good at this y/n,” Wanda groans, her hand which still holds onto your waist making its way to your lower back, smoothly slipping under your loose t-shirt. The cold rings on her fingers on your warm skin immediately sent shivers down your spine. Her pinky slightly slipped under the waistband of your sweatpants before she left you standing alone in the kitchen.

She must do this on purpose. There is no other way.

You thought to yourself. But what was the use? Either you are right and she does it on purpose or you are wrong and project your fantasies onto her. In both cases, it is best to simply stay away from Wanda. Because there is no way you don't end up completely fucked. Right?

: Part 2

#wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda x reader #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fanfiction #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader

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solxamber · 5 months ago

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Hello! I have two things to ask:

1, Do you have a Yuusona? If so, what’re they like?

2, Neige request; A Neige with a reader a lot like the delinquent stereotype in anime. Like piercing, cutting class, riding a motorcycle, etc.

Even if you’re not still open for requests, please remember to pace yourself and take care of yourself when writing! You don’t want to burn yourself out, and there’s nothing wrong with taking a break! Remember that you are the person you should aim to please most in your writing, so it should be done on your own timeline. I hope you have a great day :)

hi! i do not have a yuusona rn! and i will take breaks when i need them, thank you for the incredibly kind message!

also this barreled out of control but i hope you like it!

Campus Scandal || Neige LeBlanche

Neige: hopeless romantic. You: begrudging (absolutely willing) participant.

or: Opposites attract— you, the resident delinquent and Neige, the campus golden boy, fall for each other.

w.c: 4k

The classroom was empty when you arrived, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow on the rows of desks. You glanced at the clock, scowling when you realized you’d somehow arrived thirty minutes early.

Mandatory classes weren’t your thing, but attendance on the first day was non-negotiable. Not that you cared much about school rules—your 2% attendance record spoke for itself—but you figured showing up on day one would keep the advisor off your back for a little while longer.

With a sigh, you dropped into the farthest seat in the back, kicked your feet up on the desk in front of you, and pulled your jacket over your head. Might as well get some sleep if you were stuck here. The soft hum of the air conditioning was surprisingly soothing, and soon enough, you were out like a light.

By the time other students began filing in, you were dead to the world, a picture of absolute delinquent indifference. Your tattoos peeked out from under the rolled-up sleeves of your shirt, the silver of your piercings catching the light. The sight of you—motorcycle helmet resting on the floor beside your desk, boots propped up like you owned the place—was enough to send whispers rippling through the room.

“Is that them?”

“Yeah, the one with the bike. I heard they got in trouble for skipping finals last semester.”

“Do they even go here? I swear I’ve never seen them in class before.”

The whispers grew quieter as more students trickled in, each one taking great care to avoid the seat next to you. Nobody was brave enough—or foolish enough—to risk waking you up.

Enter Neige LeBlanche.

Neige was never late. He was the type to set his alarm thirty minutes early, leave the house with a perfectly packed bag, and still have time to pick up pastries for his classmates on the way to school.

So, naturally, he was horrified when his alarm didn’t go off that morning. After rushing through his morning routine at record speed, he burst into the classroom, cheeks flushed and hair slightly out of place—a rarity for him.

The first thing he noticed was that the room was full. The second thing he noticed was the empty seat in the back, right next to someone who looked like they’d walked straight out of a biker gang recruitment poster.

Neige hesitated, clutching his notebook like it was a lifeline. He’d heard the rumors, of course. Everyone had. You were the mysterious rebel who showed up just enough to avoid expulsion, with a motorcycle that could be heard roaring across campus at odd hours of the night. You were intimidating, sure, but Neige wasn’t one to judge people based on appearances. Besides, he didn’t really have a choice.

With all the courage he could muster, he approached your desk and tapped you lightly on the shoulder. "Um… excuse me?"

You stirred, one eye cracking open to glare at him from under your jacket. “What?”

“Ah, sorry to wake you,” Neige said, his voice as soft as ever. “But… is this seat taken? It’s the only one left.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, taking in the rosy flush on his cheeks and the faint scent of sugar and flowers that seemed to follow him. He looked like the kind of person who helped old ladies cross the street and spent his weekends rescuing stray kittens.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, dropping your feet from the desk in front of you. “Do what you want.”

Neige practically beamed. “Thank you!”

He sat down, carefully placing his notebook on the desk, and tried to focus on the professor who had just started lecturing. Tried being the operative word.

From the corner of his eye, he couldn’t help sneaking glances at you. Everything about you screamed cool—your half-lidded eyes, the way your piercings glinted in the light, the lazy slouch of your shoulders like you couldn’t care less about anything or anyone. Even the scowl on your face seemed effortlessly stylish.

For the first time in his life, Neige LeBlanche felt self-conscious. His usually immaculate white sweater suddenly seemed plain. Was he staring too much? He was staring too much. What if you noticed? What if you thought he was weird?

Meanwhile, you were too busy trying to stay awake to notice anything. You caught snatches of the professor’s lecture, but most of it went in one ear and out the other. The only thing you did notice was the faint, almost nervous energy coming from the guy sitting next to you.

“Stop fidgeting,” you muttered, not even bothering to look at him.

“Ah—sorry!” Neige straightened in his seat, cheeks pink.

You rolled your eyes but said nothing more, settling back into your slouch. Beside you, Neige tried not to melt into a puddle of embarrassment. For someone so intimidating, you sure had a way of making his heart race.

And class had only just started.

Neige was screwed.

Absolutely, completely, irrevocably screwed.

Because this—this dizzying rush of warmth in his chest, this fluttering in his stomach, this unstoppable urge to look at you every other second—wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to him.

He’d been on stage in front of thousands without breaking a sweat. He’d received countless love letters and confessions, always accepting them with gentle grace before kindly turning them down.

He was not supposed to be this much of a mess over someone who, as far as anyone knew, only appeared on campus about twice a month. You were a phantom, a ghost of the school roster, a local cryptid people whispered about in the hallways.

And yet here he was, sitting in his room after class, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out how the universe had conspired to throw him headfirst into whatever this feeling was.

It was your fault, of course. If you hadn’t looked so effortlessly cool napping in that back corner, he wouldn’t be in this situation. If you hadn’t let him sit next to you with that lazy, unimpressed nod, he wouldn’t be losing his mind. And if you hadn’t existed, period—well, Neige wasn’t sure how to finish that thought.

When he walked into class the next day, he half-expected you to be gone, vanishing back into the mysterious ether like you always did. That’s why he nearly stopped in his tracks when he saw you in the exact same spot as before, jacket thrown over your head, looking as indifferent and untouchable as ever.

His heart skipped a beat.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to calm down. It wasn’t a big deal. He was just sitting next to you because there were no other seats. No other reason.

(That was a lie. He absolutely could’ve sat somewhere else. Half the class had seats open now that attendance was starting to dwindle. But Neige LeBlanche wasn’t one to lie—except, apparently, to himself.)

He made his way to the back of the classroom, his footsteps soft as he approached your desk. You shifted slightly under your jacket, one arm draped over your face, but otherwise didn’t react.

“Good morning,” Neige said, his voice gentle.

You peeked out from under your jacket, your expression groggy but still sharp. He thought you might tell him off, tell him to get lost or take another seat. But instead, you just gave him a single nod, as if to say, Whatever. Do what you want.

Neige couldn’t help it—he smiled. Wide and bright, the kind of smile that made his eyes crinkle and his cheeks flush. “Thanks,” he said, sliding into the seat beside you.

You froze.

It wasn’t like you cared what people thought of you. You’d spent years being judged for your tattoos, your piercings, your habit of rolling into campus on your motorcycle with exactly zero regard for the stares or whispers. It didn’t bother you. You liked being the outsider, the delinquent, the one who couldn’t care less about anyone or anything.

So why the hell was your heart pounding so hard just because Neige LeBlanche had smiled at you?

You quickly averted your gaze, pretending to focus on some invisible speck on your desk. It was just a smile. A stupid, friendly smile. Nothing to freak out over.

But it wasn’t just the smile. It was the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the way the soft flush on his cheeks made him look even more radiant, the way he looked at you like you were something more than a rumor or a passing shadow.

“What's that stare for?,” you muttered, your voice quieter than you intended.

Neige blinked, startled. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, still avoiding his gaze. “Just… nothing.”

Neige nodded, biting his lip to keep from smiling again. He didn’t want to push his luck. But as he opened his notebook and started jotting down the professor’s notes, he couldn’t help stealing another glance at you from the corner of his eye.

You were sitting there, pretending to be unfazed, but the corners of your lips were slightly quirked.

And suddenly, Neige didn’t feel so screwed after all.

It was freezing.

Neige tightened his scarf as the cold bit at his cheeks, his breath visible in the night air. He shuffled down the street, the empty to-go cup in his hand a sad reminder of his dorm’s coffee machine betrayal.

He couldn’t believe this was how his midterms week was going—a late-night coffee run because he couldn’t stay awake long enough to finish his notes.

The streets were quiet save for the occasional car passing by. Neige adjusted his scarf again, grumbling softly to himself, when the unmistakable roar of a motorcycle engine split through the silence.

He turned his head just in time to see a bike pull up beside him, its rider clad in the usual mix of leather and defiance that made you impossible to miss.

“LeBlanche,” you called, your voice cutting through the cold air. “What the hell are you doing out here at this hour?”

Neige blinked, startled. “I, um…” He held up his cup like it was a shield. “The coffee machine in the dorm broke. I needed—”

You rolled your eyes. “Get on.”

“What?”

“Get. On.” You jabbed a thumb at the empty space behind you. “I’ll drop you at the coffee shop and back. You’ll freeze your ass off walking like this.”

Neige hesitated. It wasn’t like he was scared—okay, maybe he was a little scared—but it wasn’t every day someone offered him a ride on their motorcycle.

“C’mon, it’s cold,” you added, impatience flickering in your tone. “You don’t want to get sick before midterms, do you?”

That was all the convincing he needed. Awkwardly, he swung his leg over the bike and settled behind you, clutching his cup like it was his lifeline.

“Hold on tight,” you said, your voice firm.

“Oh, uh, okay.” Neige hesitated again, then gingerly wrapped his arms around your waist. His cheeks flushed as he realized how close he was to you. The warmth of your jacket, the faint scent of leather and something faintly sweet—it was… distracting.

When the engine roared back to life and the bike shot forward, Neige yelped and instinctively clung to you tighter, practically burying his face in your back.

You felt his grip tighten, his forehead resting against your shoulder, and for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you didn’t tell him he could’ve just held onto your shoulders instead.

The ride was quick, the cold air biting at your face as you sped through the empty streets. You pulled up outside the coffee shop, parked the bike, and glanced back at him. “C’mon.”

Neige scrambled off, looking a little dazed but mostly exhilarated, and followed you inside. The warmth of the shop was immediate, and the sweet scent of coffee and pastries filled the air.

You both walked up to the counter, and Neige looked over the menu. He ordered some kind of overly sweet monstrosity with whipped cream and caramel drizzle, while you stuck with something more straightforward.

When he tried to pay, you shoved his hand away and slapped your card onto the counter instead. “I got it.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue with me, LeBlanche,” you said, cutting him off.

He looked at you for a moment, then relented with a small, flustered smile. “Thank you.”

The two of you found a table by the window, the silence between you surprisingly comfortable as you sipped your drinks.

Neige, though, was fidgeting. He glanced at you, then down at his mug, then back at you again. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, “Would you… maybe want to do this again sometime? I mean, not because of the coffee machine breaking or anything, but just—”

You raised an eyebrow, cutting him off with a laugh—one that came out louder and more incredulous than you meant. “You’re insane, you know that?”

The way Neige’s face fell made your stomach drop. His shoulders slumped, his smile faltering as he looked down at his mug, and for the first time, you realized how fragile he could look.

You cleared your throat, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I mean, yeah. Sure. We can do this again. Whatever.”

His head snapped up, his eyes wide and hopeful. “Really?”

You nodded, avoiding his gaze and hoping he couldn’t tell how flustered you were. “Yeah. Sure. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

But when he smiled—radiant and genuine, like he’d just been handed the moon—you couldn’t bring yourself to regret your answer.

Neige had a way of looking at you that made your chest tighten, like you were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. It wasn’t the kind of look you were used to—there was no judgment in it, no wariness or fear. Just pure, unfiltered awe, like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

And it scared the hell out of you.

You weren’t blind. You’d seen the way his gaze lingered on you when he thought you weren’t paying attention—the soft smiles he tried to hide behind his coffee mug, the way his face lit up when you walked into class, even on days you were late. It was written all over him: Neige was smitten.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same. How could you not? He was… everything. Kind, warm, patient in a way that didn’t feel forced or performative. He saw the best in people, even you.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Neige was sunshine, pure and untouchable, and you… well, you were the storm cloud everyone avoided. People whispered when you walked by, flinched when you spoke too sharply, or straight-up bolted if you so much as scowled. You were used to it. Hell, you encouraged it. It kept people at arm’s length, where they couldn’t get close enough to disappoint you.

But Neige had never been afraid of you. He talked to you like you were normal, smiled at you like you were someone worth knowing. And now, every time you caught him staring, every time his voice softened when he said your name, you could feel the weight of his feelings pressing down on you.

You wanted him. God, you wanted him. But you knew yourself, and you knew your reputation. People like you didn’t get to keep people like Neige. He’d see the cracks eventually—the temper, the flaws, the parts of you that didn’t match the person he thought you were.

So you let him look. You let him smile. And you let yourself pretend, just for a little while longer, that none of it meant anything.

It was better this way, you told yourself. Better to let him think you were clueless than to risk ruining what you had.

But then he’d smile at you—bright and genuine, like you were the only person in the world—and for a moment, just a moment, you wondered if maybe you were wrong.

The shift in campus perception was honestly more amusing than anything. People used to scatter like birds at the sound of your motorcycle engine; now, they smiled at you nervously, whispered in tones laced with intrigue rather than fear.

You had Neige to thank for that—his perpetual sunshine seemed to have melted the icy rumors that clung to you like a second skin.

Not that you cared. Let them think you were some misunderstood rebel who just needed the "right person" to bring out your hidden soft side. Whatever. As long as no one tried to cross your boundaries, they could make up whatever fairy tale they wanted.

You were mid-thought, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets, when someone bumped into you. Instinctively, you reached out, steadying them before they could stumble.

"Ah, thank you!" they said, looking up at you with wide, shy eyes, a faint blush coloring their cheeks.

And then they smiled.

That was new. Usually, people avoided eye contact like their lives depended on it, let alone smiled at you. You stood there, blinking, thrown off by the sheer normalcy of the interaction.

It was in this moment of confusion that you noticed Neige in the distance, his usual radiant expression frozen mid-bloom. He was staring, though his smile quickly returned—but something about it was... sharper. Too sweet, like honey laced with arsenic.

Before you could process it, Neige was suddenly beside you, his sugary demeanor dialed up to eleven.

"Ah, pardon me," he said with a voice so warm it could melt glaciers. He turned to the person you'd caught, his hand gently pulling theirs from your grasp. "Thank you for keeping them company, but we'll be on our way now!"

The stranger opened their mouth to protest but quickly thought better of it under Neige’s disarmingly sweet gaze.

Without missing a beat, Neige hooked his arm around yours and steered you away, his grip firm, yet not tight enough to hurt.

"Coffee?" he asked brightly, as if nothing had happened.

You at him, raising a brow. "You good?"

His smile didn’t falter, though his hold on your arm didn’t either. "Of course! I just thought we’d get a head start before it gets crowded."

You weren’t buying it. His cheerful tone was laced with something you couldn’t quite place—possessiveness? Jealousy?

Whatever it was, it made your heart skip in a way you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

The weight of Neige's silence sat heavy between you as you parked your bike and pulled him gently to a quieter corner of campus, away from prying eyes and ears. His hand was still gripping your arm like a lifeline, but he avoided your gaze like he thought it might shatter him.

“Okay, what’s going on?” you asked firmly, voice softer than you thought yourself capable of. “Just spit it out, Neige. What happened?”

He shook his head, his hair falling slightly into his eyes, still refusing to meet your gaze. Frustration bubbled up, but it wasn’t directed at him—it was at the tears threatening to spill over in his red-rimmed eyes.

You sighed, stepping closer, and placed your hands on his face, tilting it up so he couldn’t avoid you anymore. “Look at me,” you urged, voice gentler now. “Neige, tell me what’s wrong. Who hurt you?”

The dam broke. Tears welled up and fell freely, and he didn’t say a word before throwing his arms around you, burying his face in your chest. His grip was tight, desperate, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around him, shielding him from whatever invisible storm he was weathering.

“Neige,” you murmured, your voice soft yet insistent as you ran a hand over his hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just breathe, alright?”

You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, his body trembling against yours as he clung to you. Slowly, his breaths evened out, and the tension in his shoulders began to ease.

When you finally pulled back enough to look at him, his eyes were still glassy, his cheeks flushed from both the crying and how close you were holding him. You wiped his tears away with your thumbs, your touch careful, your voice low. “Tell me what happened.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes searching your face like he was committing it to memory. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed you.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. His lips were soft, desperate, and warm against yours, and for a split second, you froze, completely blindsided. But then everything you’d been holding back—every stolen glance, every lingering moment, every unspoken word—burst out of you all at once. You grabbed his jacket, pulling him closer, kissing him harder, pouring all the feelings you’d been too scared to admit into that single moment.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, lips swollen and faces flushed. Neige’s wide eyes met yours, his voice trembling as he finally spoke.

“I-I thought I was losing you,” he confessed, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ve liked you since the day I said hello to you, and I thought—when I saw you with someone else—that maybe I wasn’t as special to you as you were to me. And it hurt. It hurt so much.”

Your heart clenched as you cupped his face again, your thumb brushing gently along his cheek. “Neige, you’re the most special person in my life. I’ve liked you too, but I held myself back because of your reputation. I didn’t want to ruin how everyone sees you.”

His brow furrowed, and for the first time since you’d known him, Neige looked genuinely upset—though it was more at your reasoning than at you. He raised a hand and gave you a weak punch to the shoulder, his pout oddly adorable. “You don’t get to decide what’s good for me,” he muttered, his cheeks still red.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, pulling him close again. “Okay, okay. That’s fair. Then let me ask you this: Neige, will you be mine?”

The tears welled up again, but this time, they were accompanied by a bright, teary-eyed laugh. “Yes,” he said, his voice cracking as he buried his face into your neck, holding onto you like he never wanted to let go. “Of course, yes.”

The campus was abuzz the moment you and Neige stepped onto the quad together, hand in hand. Conversations hushed, heads turned, and phones subtly (or not-so-subtly) appeared to capture the moment.

There you were, the campus’s local delinquent, the untouchable cryptid who never gave anyone the time of day, walking side by side with Neige LeBlanche, the golden boy who could charm the birds out of the trees.

But what really sent the gossip mongers into a frenzy was how soft you looked. Gone was the usual detached scowl, replaced by a faint flush on your cheeks, your usual sharp demeanor melted into something almost bashful.

And Neige? Oh, he was radiant as ever, but there was an unmistakable air of triumph in the way he held your hand—a sweet, subtle smugness in his satisfied smile as he glanced at you, completely wrapped up in your presence.

The whispers grew louder with every step:

“Is that…?”

“Are they holding hands?!”

“No way. Them?!”

“Neige really bagged them?”

“They really bagged Neige?”

But honestly, who cared? You sure didn’t. Not when Neige looked at you with that gentle, heart-stopping smile, his thumb brushing lightly against the back of your hand as if to remind you he was there.

The rumors, the stares, the whispers—they all faded into white noise. None of it mattered when you had that smile aimed at you, lighting up every corner of your world and making you fall for him all over again with each passing second.

Masterlist

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst neige x reader #neige x reader #neige leblanche #neige leblanche x reader #twst neige #neige

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junkissed · 2 years ago

Text

love thy neighbor

member — fwb! neighbor!joshua x f reader genre — smut, light angst, college au, idiots to lovers, happy ending word count — 5.1k synopsis — there's perks to having your fwb live next door to you, but there's also downsides. like the fact that it's really hard to hide that you're in love with him. warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, one mention of periods, masturbation (both reader & joshua), the smut is REALLY quick, premature ejaculation sort of, a little bit of body worship, nicknames (baby, good girl), not really described but implied creampie, they are idiots and they are in love and it's gross and sweet notes — tysm to @wongyuseokie & @onlymingyus for help choosing the banner <3 and thanks to @petrichor-han for this idea !! fun fact this was originally going to be for skz han but i figured it would also make a great shua fic so i chose him instead. fun fact #2 i am addicted to giving shua's fics religious titles even when there's no mention of religion in the fic at all lmao. it gives me a giggle like how could i not when it fits so well?? also this is one of my few attempts at angst so if you liked this please reblog or send and ask and lmk how you liked it! hope you enjoy!!

joshua should be asleep right now.

really, he should. it’s 11pm on a sunday night and he’s got his chemistry lab at 8am tomorrow, and he’s still got a couple of assignments that he really needs to catch up on before the final next week.

but then there's that bump against the wall that he’s grown so accustomed to, and his eyes fly open.

maybe becoming fuck buddies with your next-door neighbor isn't the smartest idea he's ever had, because this is the fourth time this week he's had to hear your moans as he tries to fall asleep.

the walls are thin, but he's certain that you must not realize just how thin they are, because he can hear every sound you make as clear as day. every whimper, every buzz of your vibrator, even every moan of his name, barely muffled by the wall separating his room from yours. especially every moan of his name. and it’s been driving him insane.

really, it’s his own fault for trying to be a polite neighbor. he almost wishes that he hadn’t run into you when you’d moved into the apartment next door at the beginning of the semester, because then he probably wouldn’t have recognized you at that party during homecoming weekend and got to talking with you.

and because of that he probably wouldn’t have taken you home from said party and given you the best dicking down of your life (your words, not his), and then after that you probably wouldn’t have decided that you wanted to keep fucking him and agreed to become friends with benefits.

except he doesn’t actually wish that at all.

having your situationship live right next door is pretty convenient, after all. you’ll shoot him an “omw” text and be waiting at his front door seconds later. he forgot to bring condoms? it’ll just take a sec to run home and grab some. when you accidentally leave your panties in his apartment, he can drop them off the same day and then forget about it (he definitely won’t).

he could probably even just bang on his side of the wall and you’d know to come over, but to him that’s a little too far, too impolite. he at least has the decency to send a text first.

a part of him wonders if that’s why you’re so noisy at night, if you’re doing it on purpose and knowing he’ll hear it, secretly hoping for him to come knocking at your door. but he doesn’t want to assume, doesn’t want to show up without asking and realize he’s been completely wrong this whole time and make himself look like a fool.

so he settles for earplugs instead. because there’s no way he can sit there and listen to the sounds you make and not start thinking about all the times he’s been in your bed with you just inches away. and by the time he’s cum all over his fist and he’s finally worn himself out enough to fall asleep, it’s 4am and he has class in the morning and he’s wasted an entire night yet again.

he’s been inside your apartment dozens of times, enough to know the layout by heart. enough to know that your bedroom sits directly next to his, enough to know that your bed is pushed against that very thin wall the same way his is and that your nightstand with the drawer full of toys is right next to the bed.

oh, he’s gotten to know more than just your apartment over the course of the semester. he knows which positions are your favorite (you’ve never told him outright, but you always cum harder when he fucks you in missionary). he knows the names you like to be called and the ones you like to call him. he can even tell which vibrator you’re using right now (the red one doesn’t buzz as loud, so you only use it when your favorite purple one is dead. tonight you’re using the purple one.)

but he’s also gotten to know the way you smile when you see a cat video, the way your forehead wrinkles when you talk about your calculus professor, and the way you like your pancakes in the morning (though he’s never been able to make them for you himself, he swears one day he will. one slice of butter, a ton of syrup, and a handful of cut up strawberries.)

so maybe that’s what makes these nights so unbearable. he can keep lying to himself that it doesn’t bother him, that it wouldn’t bother him as much as it does if he just… didn’t like you.

but, unfortunately, he does like you. and he’s stuck with this problem until he finds a way to fix it, but just like in the lab analyses he has to write every week, he’s got no ideas. so he’ll have to settle for fucking his hand and biting his pillow so you don’t get suspicious of the noises he’s making, and hope that his silly little crush goes away on its own.

after all, he isn’t anything to you. albeit a sexual one, he’s still just a friend. and he’s certain that’s all you want.

god, you wish that joshua could see you right now. you’re certain he’d love it.

earlier tonight you’d had to physically force yourself to turn your phone off so that you wouldn’t be tempted to text him to come over. you’d already texted him on monday night and thursday afternoon, and you’d knocked on his door on saturday at practically the crack of dawn because you’d woken up thinking about him.

were you embarrassed about it? absolutely, but that wasn’t enough to stop you. okay, maybe sometimes it was, because the girl who lived across the hall had caught you (on multiple occasions) sneaking out of joshua’s apartment twice in one day and you refused to meet him again for nearly a week after that.

but joshua didn’t seem one bit embarrassed by your arrangement. he always gave you a friendly smile and offered to walk you to your door afterwards, which you always declined, and he always made sure to say he looked forward to seeing you again. you even saw him wave at the nosy neighbor girl when he’d left your apartment once (which you only remembered because you’d spent the rest of the night in tears about it, but not that you were jealous about it or anything).

you felt bad enough meeting up with him so often, but you felt even worse that you didn’t even have a label to show for it. you knew it was probably exactly what he’d wanted out of this, just somebody to call for a quick fuck, but it made you mad. it was why you got so angry about the girl across the hall; because you knew everybody loved joshua, so of course he couldn’t love only you.

he was hot and he was in a frat and he probably had a hundred girls he could call if he wanted to. with how often you text him to fuck, plus the other people he’s probably seeing? he’s gotta be exhausted.

which is why most nights you opt for touching yourself instead. in the months since you first met joshua, your vibrators have been going through batteries a lot faster than usual, a fact you’re not exactly proud of but will own up to nonetheless.

it’s not your fault that the image of him leaning over you, his thin gold chain dangling in your face as he fucks you is burned into your head practically 24 hours of the day. or the fact that his voice plays on repeat in your brain, specifically that one time he called you “baby” and you came so hard you nearly passed out.

so really, it’s actually his fault that he’s constantly on your mind. his fault for being sexy… or your fault for falling for him?

either way, you find yourself yet again with your pussy stuffed full of your own fingers and your favorite purple vibrator on your clit (you remembered to charge it last night, after you came to the thought of joshua fucking you on your kitchen counter), wishing he could be there to see it.

you close your eyes and picture him in front of you, holding the vibrator against your clit as he grins down at you. such a good girl, he’d say, brushing his thumb over your nipple with his free hand. you love this, don’t you?

“fuck, yes, joshua,” you reply, gasping as you push your fingers deeper inside. you arch off the bed a little, pushing your head back against your pillow. you’ve learned that he loves it when you call him by his full name instead of “shua” or “josh”; you don’t know why, but it always seems to drive him crazy, and you never fail to leave his apartment sore in all the best places afterwards.

you spread your legs a little wider and moan, rolling your cheek to the side as you imagine him fucking you with his fingers instead of your own. i can tell you’re getting close, imaginary joshua says with a smirk, his hand cupped against your pussy as he thrusts his fingers in and out at a bruising pace.

“mhm,” you whimper, curling your fingers and trying to convince yourself that it feels as good as when he does it. “please, joshua—”

you turn your vibrator up to the highest setting, your hips canting into the air as you squeeze your eyes tighter shut. you can feel the waves beginning to wash over you and you repeat his name like a plea, chanting it over and over until you can’t form words anymore.

cum for me, baby, all over my fingers, he says, and your mouth falls open as you let go, your knee accidentally smacking against the wall as your legs shake with pleasure. you keep your vibrator held firmly against your clit until it sends you over the edge again, still riding the high of your first orgasm as you struggle to breathe through it. joshua loves to overstimulate you, until all you can do is weakly push at his hands and beg him to leave your exhausted cunt alone.

the post-orgasm clarity soon starts to hit and you’re left with the realization that you just got off from pretending your neighbor is just as in love with you as you are with him. absolutely pathetic.

but your eyes are starting to droop and you’re quickly finding that you’re too tired to stay awake to think about how much of a loser you are, so you tuck your favorite vibrator back into its spot in your drawer and put your pajamas back on and tuck yourself into bed, trying not to wish joshua was there beside you instead of infinitely far away on the other side of the wall.

when joshua wakes up the next morning, he half expects you to be waiting outside his door again.

of course anyone would be annoyed at being woken up by their neighbor before 7am, but then you’d sheepishly told him that you’d had the most insane wet dream about him and he’d been more than happy to let you come in and bounce yourself on his lap while he watched the early morning sunlight stream through his bedroom window onto your cheeks.

pretty much the perfect morning, in his eyes, except for the fact that you hadn’t slept in his bed with him. you never sleep over and it’s obvious why, but maybe it’s for good reason: he won’t get so attached to you.

unfortunately, though, this morning you aren’t waiting for him, so he trudges to his kitchen to make himself one lonely cup of coffee and one lonely stack of frozen waffles and get ready for his day.

he’s started noticing patterns about when and why you text him, and he finds himself checking his phone all day.

on mondays, because you have all your classes on those days and you’re already exhausted so why not get fucked within an inch of your life before you settle in for the night?

on thursdays, usually in the afternoons because both your schedules happen to line up where he’s just finished his work shift and you’re on your break between classes so it leaves the perfect amount of time for him to eat you out.

if you have a particularly hectic morning you’ll text him right away and ask him if he’d come over once you get home that night, and he’ll reply that he can’t wait with a big red heart emoji.

in fact, most of the times you want to see him is when you’re stressed or upset, which makes sense to him but at the same time makes him a little disappointed. he hopes that you’d want to see him on your happiest days, because any day he gets to see you is automatically his happiest day. but he supposes that’s where you’ve drawn the line, and he’ll have to be okay with that.

joshua’s restless through his chem lab this morning, and then his english lecture, and then his shift at work, not-so patiently awaiting you to ask him about his plans tonight.

but you don’t text him at all on monday, and you don’t text him on tuesday, either. he catches you going into your apartment at the same time he’s leaving on wednesday, and he waves as usual but you just give him a small nod and hurriedly close your door behind you. he’s almost positive you’ll text him on thursday, but your lunch hour comes and goes without a word.

he almost never texts you first, because you text him so often and most of the time he’s already thinking about you anyway. so when sunday rolls around again and he still hasn’t heard anything from you, he thinks maybe you’re waiting for him to say something first this time.

he knows you’ve been home, because he’s heard your friends coming and going. maybe you’ve just been busy with other things and didn’t mean to ghost him. sure, you get together pretty often, but that doesn’t mean it’ll happen every single week. plans change and that’s fine, and it is right before finals week after all.

but even when you’re on your period and aren’t in the mood to see him, you usually send a text as a heads up, and he’s definitely not keeping track or anything but this week shouldn’t be one of them. he’s going through every possibility he can think of as to why you’ve seemingly disappeared, but he just can’t find a reason why.

but then he realizes something else; he’s stopped hearing you at night, too. and then he really starts to worry, because he remembers how upset you looked when he saw you in the hall and maybe something really awful happened to you and he’s been pouting in his room like a selfish idiot this whole time.

so he pulls up your contact, cursor blinking over the text box as he tries to figure out what to say.

hey, he decides on, and he’s surprised but happy when you read the message right away.

he waits a moment, but you don’t respond, so he texts again. you can talk to me, you know? about other stuff. i’m your friend.

he shakes his head and deletes that last sentence before pressing send. you read it immediately again, but it’s a long and agonizing few minutes before you reply.

okay

he frowns, not knowing what to say back. did i do something and make you mad? you seem upset and i’m sorry.

it’s nothing. don’t worry

joshua wants to say, but i do worry, but he knows that might be too far and he’s still not even sure what’s wrong.

so instead he stands up and walks out his front door, leaving his phone on his bed. he may be an idiot, but the least he can do is try to act like your friend.

you don’t answer when he knocks, so he calls your name. “i know you’re home, i can hear you through the wall.”

finally the lock clicks, and you open your door just a crack. “what do you mean, you can hear through the wall?”

he pauses. “i can hear you… walking around, and stuff. making noise. the walls are thin.” so you really didn’t know? oh god, now he feels like an asshole for listening, even if he was trying not to.

“oh. well.” you sigh and close your eyes, inhaling. “that’s embarrassing.”

“can we talk?” joshua asks, suddenly feeling exposed. he’s plenty comfortable in large groups of people, but when he’s around you he wants to hold you tight and keep you secret and safe, out of sight of any wandering eyes. standing out in the hallway where anyone could hear is not how he’d like this to go.

“sure,” you mumble, swinging your door open for him to come inside.

you close the door but don’t move from behind it, standing like you’re waiting for him to say something. so he does.

“listen. i know whatever this is, is messy,” he starts, gesturing between the two of you. “but you’re my friend, and i care about you and i want you to be happy.” he sighs. “so please tell me what’s wrong, because not texting you has been really weird, and if you want to end this then that’s fine and i’ll leave you alone, but don’t just ghost me. we’re still neighbors and i’m not a fan of awkward hallway conversations.”

you crack a smile for a second, but it quickly fades. “do you want to end this?”

“no, not really. but i don’t want you to feel like you have to keep doing this if you don’t like it.”

“i thought it was pretty obvious i did like it,” you say with an almost laugh.

he stares at you quietly. “then what’s going on?”

“i want to keep doing this, but i just… i don’t think i can,” you say, avoiding his eyes. “at least not like this.”

“what do you mean, ‘like this’?”

“joshua, because i like you. and i feel awful because i know we’re not on the same page and it feels like i’m taking advantage of you because you probably have a dozen other women telling you the exact same thing and it’s probably exhausting and it’s not what you want!”

his face contorts in shock at your words. “well, first, that’s not at all true. and second of all, stop trying to guess what i want without just talking to me. what is it that you want?”

“you! i don’t know. i don’t know what i want anymore,” you say, covering your face with your hands.

joshua’s not sure if he should hug you or not, but he really, really wants to. “is that all that’s been bothering you this week?” he asks softly.

“yeah,” you say, moving your hands but still avoiding his eyes. “it’s stupid. i know, and i’m sorry.”

he laughs, and you look up at him like he’s crazy. “you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he says. “i’m sorry. because for months i’ve been wishing we could change this but i never said anything because this is what i thought you wanted.”

you keep staring at him, but he can’t read the emotion on your face. “so… what is this, then?”

“i’ll be whatever you want me to be for you. your fuck buddy, or your friend, or your boyfriend, whatever.”

“you really don’t see other people?” you ask, still unsure.

now it’s joshua’s turn to look at you like you’re crazy. “no, why would i want to? i don’t care if you do, but with how often you text me it sounds like you don’t, either.”

“i just figured— nevermind,” you sigh.

“can i give you a hug?” he asks after a minute. “we’ve been sleeping together the whole semester, and i don’t think i’ve ever given you a real, proper hug.”

you smile, and seeing that instantly makes his day. “yes, please.”

his arms feel secure around you, and his chest is warm against your cheek. with a sigh you close your eyes, breathing in the smell of his cologne that you’ve been trying to push out of your brain for weeks.

you stand there for a while, neither of you making any moves to pull away. it's been a really, really long week without joshua and you didn’t realize how badly you missed him until this moment.

“so about the walls thing—”

“hm?” he mumbles.

“—you can really hear everything?”

he laughs. “oh, yeah. your bedroom is right next to mine. been having trouble sleeping for so long because i kept hearing you moan my name and it got me hard every time.”

your cheeks burn in embarrassment. “joshua, i’m so sorry! if i had known—”

he shakes his head, cutting you off. “you can make it up to me by telling me everything you were thinking about.”

“probably nothing you don't already know,” you grin shyly.

“probably, but i wanna hear you say it anyway.”

you lean away from him a little bit, releasing your arms from around him to rest against his chest. “i should've known this is why you wanted to come over,” you say, pretending to be mad, but you can already feel the tingling feeling building up in your stomach at the thought.

“it's not,” he replies smoothly, “but i did miss waking up to you knocking on my door.”

you pout. “that was only that one time!”

“doesn't mean it has to be the last.”

heat creeps up into your cheeks and you glance away from him, gaze trained on his shoulder.

“you really wanna know what i was thinking about?” you ask, finally building up the courage to look back up at his face.

“of course i do.” his eyes are sparkling as he watches you, and you can't exactly identify the emotion but you know it makes your heart flutter.

“well,” you start, “it was different every time, but most of the time it started like this.” you trail your hands down his torso, pausing when they reach his hips. he stays silent, eyes fixed on your movements and a little smile on his face that you don't think he even realizes he's doing.

“and then…” you look down, a little surprised to notice the bulge in his pants already there. you place your hand over him gently and look up, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't stop you.

you clear your throat and start again. “and then, you'd sit on the couch and let me gag on your cock for a while.”

you start to push on his hips, backing him into your living room. he’s enjoying this way more than he should be, but then again, you basically just confessed your love to him so it’s kind of the best day of his life.

the back of his thighs hits the arm rest of your couch, but before you can move him any further his hands pull you flush against his body, his bulge pressing into your stomach.

“how about we skip that part for another day?” he says, his voice low. “tell me what happens after.”

you try your best to hold back a moan, suddenly losing your ability to speak. you can practically feel his cock throbbing through his clothes and it makes it impossible to come up with a coherent sentence.

“don’t get shy on me now, baby,” he hums, hands still firmly gripping your hips, and if your brain hadn’t short-circuited already then it definitely has now. “been hearing you in your room for weeks, i know how loud you like to be.”

“that’s not fair,” you finally manage, still trying to collect your thoughts.

joshua leans forward to kiss your neck, gently at first but quickly growing harsher, and you’re sure he can feel your pulse jump every time his teeth graze your skin.

“fuck, just like that,” you whimper, “exactly like that, shua—”

after a minute he hums and glances up at you through his lashes, clearly waiting for you to keep talking.

“we’d make out for a while, and then you—you’d fuck me on the floor,” you gasp out. joshua moans against your skin, and it’s only then that you realize your hands have found their way to his hair, tugging on it to urge him on.

your fingers loosen and he pulls away, the corners of his lips wet with saliva. “on the floor? you deserve better than that, baby,” he tsks. “can i take you to bed instead?”

“please,” you whine softly, suddenly feeling unbearably eager to fuck him. all week you’ve been using every last ounce of your energy to avoid thinking about joshua, but now that he’s here in front of you and way too willing to play into your fantasies, all the emotions you’ve been holding in are spilling out, and you don’t feel like containing them anymore.

you grab his hand and it’s like you can’t make it to your room fast enough, falling onto your bed and pulling him down on top of you. by then you’ve both forgotten the conversation you were having before because you’re too busy desperately pressing your lips against his, barely remembering to breathe as he kisses you and kisses you and kisses you and what were you even talking about again?

your brain is clouded when he finally pulls away with a gasp, kissing your cheek and your neck once more. his hands slip beneath your shirt and tug it over your head, making his way between your breasts and down your stomach and leaving more kisses as he goes. your skin burns with each touch, gentle lips and not-so-gentle hands covering every inch of you until you feel like your whole body is on fire.

he sits up just long enough to pull his own shirt off and now it’s your turn to touch, your hands instantly finding his chest as you trace your fingertips down his abs.

“how do you want me?” joshua groans, his hands joining yours at his hips to help him push his pants to the ground.

“fuck… missionary? just like this?” you say as you kick your pants and panties off in a rush, wrapping your legs around his waist.

his cock brushes against your stomach and you sigh out a moan, your hands moving up to grab at his biceps. he doesn’t say another word as he runs his tip through your folds, his attention fixated on your pussy and how you’re already dripping for him. for a second he forgets where he is and what he’s doing, so engrossed with the sight of you and how fucking glad he is that he didn’t lose you because you’re both idiots that assume too much about what the other wants instead of communicating your feelings like normal adults.

you let out a little noise and his eyes flick back up to your face, his gaze immediately softening at the blissful expression on your face. to think, he could’ve been seeing you like this the whole time if he had the balls to admit how he felt sooner. but there’s plenty of time for him to pout about it later because right now you need him, and he needs you, too, so why waste time thinking about that when he can think about how good you look taking his cock?

he leans down because he can’t resist kissing your beautiful face one more time, and finally he pushes into you, letting out a loud whine at the same time you moan his name. the sound of your voices joined together goes straight to his dick as he pulls almost all the way out, thrusting back into you with renewed energy.

“baby— fuck,” he groans, his grip on your body tightening as his thrusts begin to grow faster and rougher. “so good to me.”

you clench hard around him at the nickname, clinging onto him as you squeeze your eyes shut.

and then without warning everything hits you all at once, and you go boneless in his arms as he whimpers and groans and gasps and holds you tight and he probably told you he loves you about a million times as he was cumming too but you can’t hear anything as you lay exhausted on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with your ears ringing.

even with his shaking hands you can still feel the gentleness in joshua’s touch as you start to come back down, the warmth of his breath on your cheek as his fingers lightly brush your hair out of your face, feeling him twitch inside you before he slowly pulls out.

with his own orgasm following just barely after yours that was probably some kind of record for the fastest round ever, but you don’t even have the strength to care. so what if he usually fucks you for hours on end? all you care about is the fact that he’s tracing your collarbones with a fucked-out little smile on his face and it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

with a soft grunt he stands up, and you call out his name with all the energy you have left.

“joshua?”

“mhm?”

“can you stay?” you ask, and somehow you both know you’re talking about more than just for the next few minutes.

he smiles. “wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.” and when he comes back with a towel and a wet wipe and apologizes for how fast it all was and promises to give you more whenever you want because he’s officially yours now, you know he’s telling the truth.

even when he’s doing nothing at all, joshua never fails to make your head spin.

laying in the dark with you, his fingers absentmindedly twirling your hair as you snuggle into his chest, you can’t even begin to find the words to explain how good it feels knowing he loves you and you love him back.

but it doesn’t seem like he needs words right now. all he needs is you.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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heeseungiez · 1 month ago

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crushology 101 | part 1

synopsis! after a bad breakup with a guy you didn’t even find attractive leaves you reeling, you vow never to date anyone you don’t actually find hot… problem is, somehow, you ended up with five of them in your life, all at once?

featuring! tomorrow x together and many other idols (for like 3 seconds)

pairings! ot5 x gn!reader

genre! college au, fluff, inspired by crushology 101 (the kdrama) and the og work bunny and her oppas by nieun!

word count! 8k

a/n! to be completely honest, i initially wanted this to be a one-shot? but then i thought it might be more fun to cut it off where i did. i can also post it now instead of waiting longer yano... soooooo enjoy this silly little realistically unrealistic college au with tubatu

check out my masterlist!

part 1 | part 2

Choi Yeonjun. Choi Soobin. Choi Beomgyu. Kang Taehyun. Huening Kai.

Five guys, each more handsome than the other. All of them vying for your attention. How did you end up here? Well… the story isn’t exactly short. But there is enough time to at least get into the important parts.

So, where shall we begin?

Right…

A year ago, a few months after you started your first year at university, you found a boyfriend. However, he wasn’t exactly conventionally attractive. You told yourself that it didn’t matter though, as long as your boyfriend genuinely liked you. And he was so nice, or at least he seemed to be.

Your friends, Emma and Chloe, weren’t very convinced of his act and judged him harshly. Back then, you thought it was because they just didn’t find him attractive, so all of his faults were all the more obvious to them. But it wasn’t his looks that were the problem.

The son of a bitch dated you for months, only to try to prove to his friends that you were easy. Jokes on him, because you were nowhere near that. He didn’t get into your pants even after months of his stupid act, and you ended up nursing a broken heart over what? A scumbag who wasn’t even all that.

And he had the nerve to say you — YOU — were out of his league. Honestly… you might not be a top model, but when a man who is three steps away from being an incel says that about you… it does hurt. (And you hurt him back, though beating up your boyfriend turned ex did no good things for your reputation.)

From that point forward, you promised yourself to only date men that you found attractive. At least, so you can cry over someone other people won’t call a rat, or would sympathise with you rather than give you judgy looks.

Yet your best solution for the following semester was to just… not date at all. It was easy too, when people remembered you as the crazy ex who managed to break a guy’s rib.

So you didn’t date. You lived your life in sweet, sweet peace all the way until the summer semester of your second year. Until he appeared in your life. The first of five…

It’s a regular day for you as you go to class. Your first day of a new semester and a new subject for credits. Everyone you know from the upper years has had only great things to say about the professor teaching it, so you couldn’t miss out on the opportunity to register for it and witness the teachings of Professor Lee himself.

Not to mention it’s actually incredibly hard to get into the class since it has a limit of twenty students per semester, and prioritizes both speed and overall grades when signing up for the course. So being first to sign up doesn’t mean you’re in, but having a perfect score but signing up late also doesn’t guarantee it. Which also means none of your friends got into the subject.

You enter the class, entirely oblivious to your surroundings as you scroll through your playlist, music blasting in your headphones. A bag with your laptop hangs on your shoulder, and thinking back to it, you should’ve paid attention.

Colliding with a student who was busy talking to someone was certainly not on your itinerary. Even worse, your loosely slung bag falls off your shoulder, the loud thud of your laptop and other belongings almost reminiscent of the dip your heart makes.

Every piece of work you have ever made is on that laptop. Sure, the most important bits are saved on external drivers and the cloud but the small things, the seemingly unimportant things, the ones waiting to be used, those will never see the light of day if your laptop breaks.

“Fuck, no, no…” You instantly crouch to check the state of your laptop. Is it intact? Yes. Will it boot? You can’t say for sure until you open it.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” The person you bumped into apologizes, though you don’t blame him at all. His hands reach for the other items that spread across the floor while you check the state of your laptop. “I can pay for repairs if it’s not—”

His voice dies down when your laptop boots, and you let out a huge sigh of relief at the device’s tenacity. Finally, you can look up at the man that nearly caused you a heart attack by practically blocking the entrance.

And your heart actually stops.

One of the most beautiful faces you have ever seen graces your vision, and your eyes widen in disbelief. He has the kind of look that reminds you of summer, of full fields of colorful flowers, and running through meadows under the bright sun in the middle of July. It’s the boyish kind of look your teenage self would most certainly write heartbreaking love songs about, imagining an infinite amount of “what if” scenarios.

“I know you,” the guy breaks your daydream, a smile appearing on his pouty lips. “Y/N, right? I’ve seen you around a lot.”

“I—” you can’t believe a man like this knows who you are. Mainly because you don’t know who he is, and you swear you would remember him if you met him before.

He chuckles at your flustered state, understanding the situation easily. “I’m Yeonjun. Choi Yeonjun,” he introduces himself casually, as if it made all the sense in the world that you don’t know him, but he knows you. “I was wondering if you’d take the class this semester.” He grins like he’s happy to know that you are taking it.

The more he speaks, the more confused you get. You stare at him like he’s grown a second head, and he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck in the most captivating way possible. His T-shirt rides up the slightest bit, revealing a toned torso that you did not need to catch a glimpse of.

“Why would you—”

“Well, you’re a music major, right? Most people want to get into Mr. Lee’s class.”

“But you’re not a music major,” you say plainly, because you would remember, okay? You would know if this man shared your major.

“No.” The corner of his lips rises in a soft smirk. “I’m a dance major, actually, but I’m really interested in producing, so I signed up and got in.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.” Yeonjun repeats with a soft grin. “You here alone? Wanna join me and—” He points toward a row of seats with a bunch of people you are familiar with. Like Seo Changbin, a third year music major. “Well, them.”

“Uh, sure. Yeah, I guess I can do that,” you stutter out, internally freaking out. Not only is this beautiful man asking you to sit with him and his friends, but one of those friends is also among the top students in your major.

“I promise not to bite.” Yeonjun winks at you, and your entire world stops again, processing the whole interaction.

He laughs. “Come sit with us. We plan to grab lunch after class, too, so you can join us.”

“Me?” You point at yourself quizzically, looking around. But everyone is already diligently seated, so it’s only you and Yeonjun at the entrance.

“Well, unless there’s a really stunning spirit I can’t see standing next to you, then you are definitely the person I’m asking.”

You meet the second of five on the same day as Yeonjun. Because people tend to forget about the music room at campus, you use it for your own benefit quite often. Today is no different as you take advantage of the community instruments to work on one of your many projects. With headphones on your ears as you strum on the bass, trying to figure out the notes, you don’t notice anyone entering the room.

And he doesn’t notice you at first, either. He types away on his phone as he walks forward, completely unaware of his surroundings until his foot catches on one of the many scattered cables on the ground. He stumbles, and although he doesn’t fall, the phone in his hands does escape his hold, landing practically on your lap. Not before it hits you in the head, of course, to make the experience even worse.

“Oh, my gosh, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” The guy runs up to you immediately, inspecting you from head to toe as if the phone were a weapon that could cause you internal bleeding and a concussion.

And maybe it did, because when you look up into the face of the guy who is practically on his knees, begging for your forgiveness, your eyes make angel wings sprout from his back, and a halo levitates just above his golden hair.

He makes you think of the fresh spring air, walking through a cherry blossom path. He would catch a petal from the air for you, only to notice that there are already many of them stuck in your hair, and he would laugh so softly, with such affection in his eyes, that it would make your heart burst with love and adoration.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, hand hesitantly reaching for the spot where his phone hit you. “Did I hurt you?”

You reach out for his hand, stopping him before he could touch you. It’s warm, his hand, and with the redness of his cheeks, you assume it’s from the slight embarrassment he currently feels. With your lips pressed tight together, you shake your head.

“I’m fine,” you reply simply. “What happened anyway? Did you throw your phone at me or something?”

“Oh… you didn’t see?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, but your confused expression tells him enough to let out a breath of relief. It means he didn’t embarrass himself more than he thought he did. “In that case, I’d rather not disclose that information.”

“Fair enough.” You nod, ready to go back to your work. But the guy lingers by your side rather than leaving you alone. “Do you need anything else?”

“I’m Huening Kai,” he introduces himself with a smile. “You’re Y/N, right? I’ve seen you around campus a bunch of times.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And I really like some of your projects. Professor Min has a habit of throwing around a lot of praise when it comes to you,” Kai shares the information with a grin, standing back up. He towers over you now, and you have to crane your head to see his face. “I think we’re in his class together this semester.”

“Oh, that’s great. We’ll see each other every week, then.” And your eyes will be blessed with the sight of one of the most good-looking creatures to ever exist on this earth — but you leave out that part, of course.

“And if you don’t have anyone to work on group projects with, then you can have me,” he adds light-heartedly, but the idea of working alongside someone as striking as Huening Kai sounds almost absurd to you. This is the second handsome guy suggesting to either sit or work with you in a class. And the phrasing? You can have me. Someone save your poor heart because it might explode.

What the hell is going on?

“You’re not just trying to get a ride on my back, are you?” You raise a brow at him suspiciously, and he laughs, shaking his head.

“I’d never!” He raises his arms in defence. “I just… kinda don’t really have friends.”

“What!?” you spit out in disbelief, staring at the boy.

“I mean I do have friends. It’s just that I don’t share any classes with them because they’re in different majors. That’s what I mean.” He chuckles nervously, looking away from you.

“Right… That makes sense.” You nod to yourself. “Sure, though, I wouldn’t mind working with you if there are any group projects.”

“That’s great.” Kai grins. “By the way, do you mind if I share the space with you? To be honest, I thought nobody’s gonna be here.”

“No problem. I come here for the exact same reason anyway.” You smile at him.

The two of you spend hours inside the music room in silence aside from the occasional question here and there. Huening Kai does make a habit of stealing glances at you quite often, and you’re not any different when it comes to watching him work.

You meet the third of five at the bus stop. It’s late at night because you completely forgot about the time, and Huening Kai was no help either. The only reason both of you realized how late it had gotten was because Kai got a call from his younger sister about missing dinner with their parents.

Usually, at this late hour, nobody sits at the bus stop. But today, a guy stands tall, leaning against the frame of the bus schedule, scrolling mindlessly through his phone.

Even from here, you can see he’s handsome. And uninterested too, which makes today somewhat easier as compared to what you experienced with Yeonjun and Huening Kai.

The guy glances at you only when you walk toward him, stopping next to him to wait for the bus. His brows furrow as something catches his attention.

Before you know it, his attention is fully on you, a huge grin adorning his lips. “Are you listening to KARA?” he asks, pointing at your headphones. You had no idea that your music was that loud.

“Yeah…” you reply.

“I love KARA!” the guy exclaims.

“They got me into music.” You smile at the memory and shrug. “I like to take inspiration from their songs when I’m working on my projects.”

“Oh? A music major?” the guy asks, and when you nod, he adds: “My friends study music at Yein University nearby, are you by chance—”

“Yeah.” You nod again. “And you?”

“I go to Batu University for media management, but it kind of goes hand in hand with the other guys… I’m Soobin, by the way. Choi Soobin.” He offers you his hand.

“Y/N,” you say with a smile.

The bus arrives then, but as you both pleasantly find out, the two of you live in the same street and are practically neighbors. So after exchanging numbers, you promise to see each other at a normal hour of the day, too.

You bump into the fourth boy in the library. Unfortunately, studying at university as a music major doesn’t actually mean that it revolves around playing instruments, singing and making the music itself. Sometimes you do have to bury your head deep into textbooks and learn about the history and theory of it all, so you can either take inspiration, or learn from your predecessor’s mistakes in order to create a new generation.

And sometimes, it’s simply a consequence of a terrible choice when it came to elective — entirely unoptionally optional — courses.

You tend to not pay much attention to your surroundings when you study at the campus library. With headphones on your head, music blasting loudly, but at a healthy level, you lose yourself in a world of words that make sense on their own but lose their meaning once they’re strung together in a ludicrous line of academic bullshit.

Today is different though. Because despite your desire to cram at least a few names into your brain and what they entail, your phone keeps blowing up with messages from your friend group chat, or either of the three boys you have met so far. Even when you put the phone on do not disturb, it’s as if your brain still catches the waves of each blocked notification on the device.

To make matters worse, you can’t shake the feeling of somebody staring at you. But when you look around yourself, there is no one. Or, well, there are people — obviously, you are sitting in a crowded and very shared area for students — but none of them are interested in you any more than they are in the books they pretend to read.

You decide to give up studying after two hours of sitting and barely three lines of notes in your notebook.

The chair creaks as you stand up, but your peers ignore the sound, disregarding it with sympathy because the thoughts of giving themselves a break are probably floating in their heads, too.

Leaving the library is a freedom you allow yourself only because you’re barely one week into the new semester.

You did not expect to step on a pair of glasses on your way outside of the library. But here you are, listening to the loud crack of glass and plastic under the rubber sole of your shoe. Your eyes widen as you look down, noting the expensive looking frames, and fairly thick lenses.

“Has anyone seen my glasses?” A voice asks nearby, and your heart drops into your stomach, knowing that you probably ruined this person’s only pair of glasses and completely disrupted their way of life until they get new ones.

You pick them up despite yourself, a huge frown appearing on your lips as you assess the damage.

Spoiler alert: it’s bad.

“I think I found them,” you say regardless, turning in the general direction of where the voice had come from.

To your relief, you think, the person is already wearing a pair of glasses. He’s pretty, in a good way, you’d say. With dark hair falling into his eyes in styled waves. Quite tall, too. He’s what people would call the resident cute nerd, someone who you’d want to tutor you when you pretend to be dumber than you truly are.

“Fuck. I knew I’d dropped them,” he curses under his breath, not even considering the fact that you stepped on them and it’s entirely your fault they’re ruined. “I always carry spares in case,” he adds and points to the glasses already sitting on his nose. “Blessings of a minus five vision, I guess. Can’t function without either glasses or contacts.”

“I’m so sorry. I can pay for a new pair,” is the first thing that leaves your mouth when the guy approaches you, and he shakes his head.

“No, it’s not on you,” he says, looking at you sympathetically. “I dropped them here, it’s my fault. They could’ve gotten stolen too, and nothing much would change.” His nonchalance throws you off guard because the pair truly seems expensive.

“I have dozens more at home if it puts you at ease,” he adds as if he could hear your thoughts, his words seemingly leaving his mouth at a mile per hour. “You could say I have a record of being reckless with my glasses, but contacts tend to irritate my eyes.”

“Oh…” you don’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry. Uh, I’m Choi Beomgyu,” he introduces himself to you. “I didn’t mean to randomly talk your ear off, it’s just a self-defence mechanism in embarrassing situations.”

“I feel like I should be the one embarrassed and apologetic,” you say, a soft smile making its way to your lips. “I’m Y/N.”

“Well, if you really feel apologetic, would you mind giving me your number?” Beomgyu asks.

“What?”

The boy simply grins as if it’s a completely normal situation. “I’m easy to please, really. If you treat me to a cold beer, everything can be easily forgotten and forgiven.”

“Is that what it is?” You raise a brow at him. “A ploy to get free beer?”

“Well, I didn’t plan for my glasses to get broken today, but if I can get your number and a free beer, I will be very satisfied.”

“Truly a man with simple needs.”

“Never needed to be anything more.”

You met Kang Taehyun on a completely random Tuesday. Walking through campus, you mind your own business until a commotion catches your attention by the basketball court available mainly to P.E. majors.

Normally, you would disregard the situation because why would you care about a bunch of sweaty boys playing with a ball? But then you catch sight of three familiar faces — guys from your major — all playing against one man, and losing. Which piques your curiosity to the max.

“Hey, what’s going on?” you ask someone on your left, when you make it to the tiny crowd, and the person turns to you with an excited grin.

“They made a bet to play three on one. If Kang Taehyun loses—” the person points at the only guy you don’t recognize— “then the third year P.E. majors gotta buy a feast for the music majors. If those guys lose, they buy for Taehyun and his friends.”

“Isn’t that a bit unfair?” You furrow your brows, but the person merely shrugs.

“Well, it seems not,” they say, clapping when Kang Taehyun scores another point against the three fumbling music majors. “That’s 5 to 1 for Taehyun,”

You glance at a group of more familiar faces standing back and merely laughing at their friends’ misery rather than helping them out. Rolling your eyes, you step onto the small court. With your luck, one of the music majors throws the ball in your direction rather than his teammates, and you catch it with ease, tilting your head to the side.

“You guys made a bet and can’t even play this game properly?” you ask with a raised brow. Then you turn toward the crowd, your gaze firm on who you want to play with. “Heeseung, stop laughing your ass off and get here. And you too, Nicholas!” you call the two guys you’ve known for years. They’re what you would call your occasional friends — and also the people that used to play competitive basketball in high school.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing? This is between us and the—”

“Music majors, right? Well, we’re also music majors,” you say confidently, staring down the guys trying to stop you. “How about we do a fair game of 3 to 3 with a change of players and same stakes, since you guys believe in your basketball skills so much?”

Kang Taehyun, the one who’s been playing the whole time walks up to you with big enough eyes to fell a tree out of sheer cuteness, though it does not fit the way his lips form a determined smirk.

“I’d get just changing players, but also trying to make this fair puts you at another disadvantage,” says one of Kang Taehyun’s friends because it doesn’t seem that he’s the overly talkative type.

The corner of your lips rises in a challenging smirk. “Might be.”

But Heeseung and Nicholas are already standing by your side, matching the height of the P.E. majors. “You sure about this, Y/N?” Heeseung asks.

“Do you want to have at least a sliver of a chance at free food?”

“Fair argument.”

In short: you lost. However, the difference in score was not as embarrassing as the original trio going against just one.

“Not bad,” Kang Taehyun speaks up for the first time since you saw him. His voice is slightly deeper and much quieter than you would expect it to be. “Almost had us in the end.”

“We haven’t played in a few years.” Nicholas shakes his head at the compliment, throwing his arm around your shoulder. “A little heads up next time would be appreciated.”

“I’m a spontaneous person.” You shrug, though in reality, you don’t know why you did this. You aren’t the kind of person to try and outshine someone — let alone go against the P.E. majors out of the blue. Yet your eyes always end up at one place: on Kang Taehyun.

The man seems both absolutely oblivious to the outside world and acutely aware of everything that happens around him. Like he wants people to disregard him, but knows to keep distance regardless. What might act as a repellent to others, is like a magnet to you.

“Well, if you guys are ever bored, we’re always looking for more people to play with us,” one of the older guys says, Fuma, you heard him be called at one point. He puts his hands on Taehyun’s shoulders as if to massage him and grins.

“Don’t you have a whole faculty just for that?” Heeseung questions, amused.

“They suck.” Concise, straight to the point — that is Kang Taehyun. He doesn’t speak unless necessary, and he never says anything he doesn’t mean. To other people, it might seem like he’s cold, aloof, and doesn’t care about anything or anyone but himself, but getting to know him and slowly peeling off layers of armor that was never truly there is a reward in itself.

“So, just a question, but we’re not the ones buying food, right? It’s still them?” Heeseung points toward the original trio that made a bet with zero skills to back it up.

“Nah, forget it. We appreciate a good game,” says the tallest of the three P.E. guys, you heard Fuma call him Kei during the game. He high-fives Heeseung with a grin.

“I wouldn’t mind buying you a coffee, though.” Taehyun’s voice nearly startles you, especially because he’s speaking to you. Staring at you. With a hint of expectancy in his big brown eyes.

“Hm?” Your brain stutters. Heeseung and Nicholas laugh at you, nudging your arms from each side as if you were kids in middle school, watching somebody confess their feelings.

“You’re entitled to say no, but I just thought I’d give it a shot.” Taehyun’s voice is nonchalant, but the way his lips twitch and his expression slightly changes with the anxiety of possibly being rejected, you can tell it would hurt his pride.

“You might need to raincheck, because vocal training starts in ten.” Heeseung, as helpful as ever, destroys the moment by checking the time on his phone. “Aaand we’re on the wrong side of the campus because we just spent our break playing basketball instead.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Uh, I’d love to get coffee sometime, but it’ll have to wait. So sorry.” You barely manage to get out your apology before Heeseung has you by the wrist and is dragging you along in his sprint, so you can make it to vocal training in time.

“Dude! You never do this kind of thing?” Kei hits Taehyun’s arm with an amazed smirk, staring at him with wide eyes.

Taehyun hides his hands in the pockets of his jeans, shrugging. “I just like people who aren’t afraid to stand up for themselves.”

“I don’t even remember their name,” Fuma notes, running a hand through his head. “But they played well.”

“It’s Y/N,” Taehyun says, liking the way the name sounds on his lips.

You could sense Yeonjun’s staring from a mile away. Except he’s not even six feet away. He’s sitting right next to you, disrupting your work flow as you try to write down every single piece of information that leaves Professor Lee’s mouth.

It’s almost impossible to breathe with his annoyingly handsome face glued to your side, a smile gracing his lips as he doesn’t even bother to hide the fact that his attention is purely on you. It’s to a point where it irritates you more than it flusters you, because how can he just not pay attention to what Professor Lee says when his class is generally the hardest to get into in the whole faculty?

“Do you want to fail this class so badly?” you ask under your breath, most of your attention still on the front because you could not bear looking at Yeonjun.

The warm sound of his chuckle sends shivers down your spine and sets butterflies off in your stomach. It’s quite maddening because there is no way in hell that someone like Choi Yeonjun would actually like you.

Yet he never misses the chance to include you in anything group related, nor does he ever stop inviting you to hang outs and campus events that you would normally miss out on to work on your many unfinished projects. When you keep declining his offers, he doesn’t even seem to be any less determined if not more motivated. But you’ve seen the way people generally gravitate toward Yeonjun, so you can never fully understand — why would it be you?

“You’re so cute when you worry about me,” he remarks, eyes never leaving your face. “But Changbin’s actually voice-recording all classes, so I have no need to listen when I have you right next to me.”

“Flirting is a really bad habit for you.” Shaking your head, you dare to glance at Yeonjun from the corner of your eye. He grins at you as if he won at life. But the small voice in your head still doubts — if your ex-boyfriend had secretly been an asshole, what if Yeonjun’s intentions were even worse? What if this is simply an elaborate joke between him and his friends? Just another plot to break your heart.

You could not give in.

Not again.

“I don’t flirt,” he replies, a pout forming on his lips.

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

Yeonjun follows you even after class, almost like a stray cat who got attached to the first person it came across. “You don’t trust me,” he says eventually, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans while you’re trying to pick out an appropriate lunch in the campus cafeteria.

Eyes follow him wherever he goes, because if there is anything Choi Yeonjun does, it’s drawing attention to himself without even trying. It isn’t something you can fault him for, but it makes you even more suspicious.

For one, he doesn’t let you pay for lunch. Two, he’s friendly with everyone who dares to greet him. And three, Choi Yeonjun isn’t the only good-looking man in the world.

Your phone lights up with a notification. A message from KARA lunatic popping up.

[12:54] KARA lunatic: Next time you forget something at my place, make sure it’s valuable, so I can sell it later. [2 attached photos]

The photos include a scrunchie you’ve been trying to find the whole day, and a photo of Soobin wearing it around his wrist to remember that he should return it.

Between the two of you, a tacit agreement of sorts formed last week. Sometimes, when either of your roommates decide to have visitors over, you simply remove yourself from the situation by going over to Soobin’s place, which is practically three steps away. And Soobin lets you stay, as long as you don’t disrupt his personal space.

And then another message finds its way to your phone from a contact named friendless guy.

[12:55] friendless guy: professor min approved the changes we made for the spring festival theme! yayyyy [1 photo attached]

Huening Kai doesn’t fail to send a selfie of himself doing thumbs up.

You smile to yourself, reading the messages. It makes Yeonjun straighten in his seat across from you, elbows leaning on the table as he narrows his eyes at you.

“Am I that bad?” he questions, sporting that damned adorable pout. “I’m really sorry if I did anything to offend you, Y/N, I’m just—”

“You did nothing to offend me, Yeonjun.” You shake your head, setting your phone down. Staring him in the eyes, you don’t believe they belong to those of a liar. But he is right; you cannot trust him. Not yet. “But you’re so— you. And I’m… me.”

“Stunning?”

You laugh in his face. Not at him, obviously, but at his words. He is calling you stunning? When your ex-boyfriend said you were out of his league? It just feels like one strange, elaborate joke from fate itself.

“This campus is full of people that already adore you, Yeonjun. So why—”

“Because,” Yeonjun says, a smile forming on his lips. He never breaks eye contact with you, gazing at you as if you hung the stars in the sky.

“Because?”

“Because.”

Despite your skepticism, Yeonjun doesn’t waver. Instead, he seems to appreciate that you don’t instantly jump at his feet, ready to do whatever he asks of you. It makes you all the more real to him — a genuine person. (And he likes you so much more for it.)

“What would you say to a casual hang out then? As friends, let’s say. You, me, and some of my other friends.”

“When? I have work to do, Yeonjun…”

“Not now, obviously. But I’d let you know.” And he attempts to wink at you, but both of his eyes close instead, and you can’t help but giggle at the action. It’s adorable, and entirely uncharacteristic of his otherwise perfect, flirty image.

“Okay,” you sigh. “I can do that.”

“Really?” Yeonjun barely contains his excitement, attracting the attention of a few students. Their sour expressions turn into ones of pure awe when they realize it’s Choi Yeonjun they were about to scold, though.

“Really.”

“You won’t regret it!”

Working in a pair is strangely comforting. You smile to yourself as you listen to the faint buzzing of speakers and Huening Kai’s scribbling against the paper. He writes down notes as they come to him, while you work on a mix of sounds to get a melody that’s been stuck on your mind the whole day out of your head.

The two of you have gotten comfortable around each other quickly. In the same way you find solace in Soobin’s presence and apartment on nights when you need it, Kai is your sanctuary during the day when there is nothing much to do on campus.

“What would you think if I said I want to start a band?” Kai asks rhetorically, humming to himself. The sound of a pencil scratching against paper stops as Kai turns to look at you. “I saw this poster, you know, that said the school will hold a competition during the spring festival.”

“So you want to start a band to join this competition?”

“The prize money is really good,” Kai says, nodding. “And we get free coffee in the campus café for the rest of the year.”

Your eyes widen. “I can… see the appeal.”

“Would you join?”

“Your band?”

Kai nods.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just didn’t want to assume.” Kai shrugs a smile forming on his lips. “But if I’m on the drums and you’re on the bass, we might still need a good deal of people.”

“Just guitar and piano probably,” you say without much worry. “Those are the most common among music majors anyway… and I kinda have ideas.”

“You do?”

“Well, for guitar, I’d try asking Park Jongseong. He’s really good. Or Choi Taeyang. Maybe both. And piano… I guess, Kim Jungsu?”

“You know a lot of people in our major,” Kai remarks, turning in his place to look at you.

“I participate in way too many events, I guess.” You bite the inside of your cheek, eyeing Kai from the corner of your eye. “But you don’t, since I didn’t know about you…”

Kai chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “I prefer avoiding public events. And when I do, I only keep to my friends or myself.”

“Fair enough,” you say, grinning. “I hope you’re ready to let the world know that Huening Kai exists, though. Because you’re not gonna be left alone after that.”

“I’ll just use you as my shield.”

“Damn. Can’t wait.”

Kai laughs softly, and you relish the sound, subconsciously recording it to tuck away in a corner of your mind for later.

The restaurant near campus buzzes with life as people file in and out for a quick lunch between classes.

You are not an exception to the rule, entering with an excited grin on your face.

“Y/N!” The sound of your name makes your head turn, and a squeal leaves your lips at the sight of your friends, Emma and Chloe. You haven’t seen them in ages, although you attend the same university. But being in different faculties complicates your ability to meet up.

“It’s been so long!” you exclaim as you practically run to them.

They envelop you in a tight hug, smiles plastered on their faces.

“Too long.” Chloe frowns. “I was starting to forget what you look like.” She dramatically places a hand over her forehead before her eyes set on you, scanning every part of you like a hawk.

“We’ll take lots of pictures later,” Emma says, giggling. “But you’re doing okay, right? I heard you’re working on the spring festival’s soundtrack.”

“Yeah! It’s actually going really well. Main theme being love and all, it’s pretty easy to satisfy the masses.”

“Anything light and upbeat would probably do.”

“Exactly. The expectations are so low that it’s easy to exceed them.” You smirk, proud of the tiny reference that you haven’t given up since your childhood. “But anyways, can we get something to eat first? I’m starving.”

“You’re reading my mind.”

The three of you spend an hour catching up and eating your lunch. Chloe rants about linguistics classes, while Emma shares information about her upcoming performance at the local theater.

“By the way, do you guys know Choi Yeonjun?” Emma asks with a slightly raised brow, leaning her elbows on the table, because she is about to share vital gossip.

“Duhh,” Chloe responds, rolling her eyes. “Everyone knows Choi Yeonjun. Dude’s campus famous.”

You don’t say anything. All you can do is purse your lips in thought and nod solemnly. Knowing Choi Yeonjun is certainly one way to put it. Thinking about it, you probably have a few unread messages from him on your phone right now.

“Well, someone found out who one of his exes is!” Emma exclaims, pulling out her phone to search something up. “Look. That’s literally him and the Karina, cozying up together on campus.”

“Damn. How old is that photo?” Chloe questions, and Emma shrugs in response.

“Like two years back maybe. They were campus sweethearts in their first year. Before she, you know, dropped out and became famous and all that stuff.”

“Why’s that important anyway?” You don’t want to sound jealous, because you’re not— you shouldn’t be. You have zero reasons to be jealous over a past relationship from a guy who doesn’t have to be anything more but your friend.

“Karina’s coming back to our faculty. Dance major, obviously. To finish her studies.”

“Wait. You’re telling me Karina is going to be breathing the same air as me? Walking the same paths as me? Living around the same campus as me?” Chloe freaks out, while you lef out a breathy, amused laugh. “And she’s Choi Yeonjun’s ex. That is insane news.”

“For you, maybe.” You shake your head, feigning ignorance rather than acknowledging the fact that once Karina is back on campus, Yeonjun’s attention will probably divert back to her.

And the idea of it totally doesn’t upset you.

Chloe and Emma both look at you with raised brows, eyes piercing through you as they try to read your body language and grasp at all the words that are left unsaid.

“How do you know Choi Yeonjun?” Emma asks after a minute of awkward silence, finally coming to her own conclusion.

“He attends Professor Lee’s classes,” you don’t lie. “We have a few group projects together.”

“And you haven’t said a thing?” Chloe sounds appalled, expression bemused.

“It’s not that important.” You try to brush it off, but the girls are already on you, grabbing your phone off the table.

Not only does it show a long thread of messages from Yeonjun, however, it also contains Beomgyu’s rant about baroque music, Soobin’s invitation to have fried chicken near your apartments, and Kai’s list of things the two of you have to work on before the spring festival.

Their mouths drop to the ground in disbelief as they look through them, eyes glued to the profile pictures of each boy.

“Holy shit.”

“There’s no way.”

“Our child is actually growing up.” Chloe feigns a tear, glancing at you. “I was scared you were letting your ex ruin every possible relationship you could have in the future.”

“Those are my friends,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Not when they’re this hot.” Emma shakes her head. Knowing your passcode and having full access to your phone, she opens Soobin’s contact first, his picture taking over the whole display.

“Oh, this is insane.” Chloe and Emma join their heads together as they scroll through your private messages, but you let them. Perhaps you should’ve updated them at least a tiny bit about what’s been going on in your life.

Someone clears their throat near you.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything important.” The voice makes your eyes widen, head snapping in the direction of Kang Taehyun. You were beginning to think you might never see him again.

Chloe and Emma ignore him, too absorbed in your phone to pay attention. You leave them be, and smile at Taehyun instead, shaking your head.

“Not at all. I—”

“You never got the chance to give me your number,” Taehyun says, hiding his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “And my offer for the coffee still stands.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He nods, the corner of his lips lifting in a smile. You watch him take his phone out, offering it to you, so you can put your number in.

When you give his phone back, you watch him type in a name for you, and you’re certain it was not your name he wrote in there. “I will text you to figure out when we both have time, then.”

“Okay.” You nod, and Taehyun grins. Departing before your two friends can even notice that he was ever there.

Or, before he texts your phone number, reverting their attention back to you.

“Who is this guy asking you to save his number?” They question, opening up Taehyun’s profile. “He’s—”

“Good-looking?” you ask, well aware of the fact. Obviously, you’re not blind, so you know that each of the boys you have come across these past few weeks are incredibly attractive. But…

There is a line you shouldn’t cross with either of them.

Yeonjun scheduled the hangout with his friends for Friday. Which you were not opposed to. You didn’t have any plans, and all you really cared about these past few days was the song you and Kai have been trying to finish for the spring festival, so he can focus on starting his band.

“I think if we layer our voices a bit more, it will come out great,” you point out, playing through the current demo.

“Okay. We can do that.”

Kai leans over your shoulder to stare at the screen of your laptop, his breath tingling the back of your neck. You do your best to ignore the way your heart speeds up in his vicinity, and the way he places his arm on the desk, caging you in from one side.

“I think we should also remove some of the riffs. It makes the song sound too heavy for something spring-themed,” he adds, biting the inside of his cheek in thought. “It’s about love that blooms slowly over time, not a fast-paced summer fling.”

Humming, you nod. “I guess you’re right.”

“I think we could finish this by Friday, and then we can start working on recruiting band members.”

“That sounds great, but I’m only free until four on Friday.”

“Me too, actually. To support a friend. Apparently, I gotta meet and I quote: the love of his life. Said he needs it to be casual or something.”

“Probably doesn’t want to come off too strong on the love of his life.” You imitate Kai’s voice as you say the last part, and the boy chuckles, nodding.

“I’ll be honest, though, I’ve never seen him be this excited about a person. Not since his last breakup, at least,” Kai shares, smiling to himself. There is a glint of happiness for his friend in his eye as he looks at you.

Forgetting how close he is to you, you make the mistake of turning your head in his direction, meeting his gaze from barely a few centimeters. His eyes briefly flicker to your lips, but it happens in a matter of seconds that make you wonder if you haven’t made it up.

“What about you?” you ask, your attention back on the screen of your laptop.

“What do you mean?” Kai tilts his head, brows furrowed.

“Don’t you have any exes you’re trying to get over?” you question a bit too eagerly, but Kai doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he chuckles dismissively and shakes his head.

“God, no,” he replies. “I’ve never dated anyone before. And I think it’s for the better.”

“Really? You never liked someone?” You fight the urge to look Kai in the eye because he has yet to move back, and you cannot handle staring down at him from such a close distance again.

“I mean… it’s not that I didn’t want to. I guess it just never felt right, you know?” Kai shrugs, finally stepping back from you, giving you the space to properly breathe. “I’ve had people confess to me before, but I’m not exactly someone who’d go for it just because someone showed interest. I can’t do it if my heart isn’t in it.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you keep quiet. He isn’t wrong. You completely understand his point because that is exactly what you think as well. Though it doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t have this mindset before, and swore off dating because of it, too. Why are you still getting affected by something an asshole had done ages ago?

You should’ve been able to move on by now. But it’s so hard to trust people.

“Are you okay?” Kai asks after a minute of silence.

“What?” You blink. “Oh, yes, I’m fine. I was just… thinking, I guess. Sorry.”

“Thinking about what?” Kai laughs softly, an unidentifiable emotion flashing in his eyes.

“Just… that you’re not wrong.” You press your lips together, running a hand through your hair. “Dating someone you don’t actually like is not a good idea.” You should never have given in to your ex-boyfriend just because he was persistently chasing you.

“So I’m guessing you are dealing with an ex,” Kai says, his tone reassuring. “That bad, huh?”

“If pretending to like me for months just to get to fuck me is bad then yes, you could say that.”

“What.” Kai’s eyes widened, disgusted shock contorting his features. “Did—”

“No, actually. That’s the funny part, I guess,” you reply, a self-deprecating laugh escaping your lips. “I shouldn’t be so hung up on a guy I wasn’t even that interested in, right? Like, I was just entertaining him because he said he liked me.”

“Man, that’s insane.” Kai sighs in disbelief, running a hand through his hair before you feel both his hands on your shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. “That can totally mess with your trust.”

A smile forms on your lips. The way Kai understands spreads warmth through your chest, and you lean back, more into his touch — into him.

“If I’d known you earlier, I would totally teach that guy a lesson,” he says under his breath, and you giggle quietly, your hand reaching up to rest on the top of his on one of your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you say softly. “But I may have roughed him up a bit myself when I found out…” you admit, averting your gaze to the ground.

“Good!” Kai exclaims, another low chuckle leaving his lips. “Wait… you’re the ex who broke some music major’s ribs!” The realization comes to him slowly, eyes crinkling with sheer amusement at the thought. “I always knew there was a story behind it.”

“Yeah…” You nod, biting your lip. “That is me, I guess. The crazy ex. Yay.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Kai says, his hands still a heavy weight on your shoulders. “I never thought you were crazy since I first heard about it, anyway. And now I think you just had a reasonable reaction to finding out that someone you chose to trust betrayed it…”

[14:24] KARA lunatic: MAN [14:24] KARA lunatic: this is so messed up [14:24] you: what is? [14:25] KARA lunatic: t1’s playing against g2 today and i can’t watch [14:25] KARA lunatic: this is HELLL [14:25] KARA lunatic: what sins am i being punished for [14:26] you: why can’t you watch? [14:28] KARA lunatic: i’m being forced into society tonight [14:28] KARA lunatic: pray for me [14:30] you: you’re so dramatic

The finished song sounds better than you expected. It’s calm, yet energetic, capturing the beginning of a slow, yet powerful love story. In a way, it is exactly the type of song you would associate with Kai, so it only makes sense that he was the one helping you make it.

“What time is it?” he asks when you finally click the send button, sharing the song file with your professor.

Checking the clock, it seems to be about time to start packing up for your meet with Yeonjun. “We’ll have to go, I think,” you say, pursing your lips.

“I thought so. Where are you heading? Maybe I can walk you before I have to make an appearance with my friends,” Kai suggests, crossing the music room to grab his denim jacket.

“The Chinese restaurant near campus. Not that far away, so I’ll be fine.” You wave your hand dismissively, but Kai stops mid-putting-on his jacket, tilting his head to the side.

“I’m actually also heading there, though.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.” Kai smiles, shrugging on the jacket. “So I get to walk you regardless.”

“I suppose that’s how fate wants it.” You chuckle, throwing your laptop inside your shoulder bag.

“Is your friend the punctual kind?” you ask in front of the restaurant.

Kai shrugs in response. “Not usually. But I think he might be for this one.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he’s not entirely sure if he likes the idea of you meeting up with another guy — someone he doesn’t know. But at least he’ll be in the same restaurant.

“Alright then.”

Nodding, you walk inside the restaurant together. Choi Yeonjun sits inside a booth with two other guys, their backs facing you. Spotting him inside the packed restaurant is far too easy, and you hate the way your heart skips a beat when you see him laugh at something his friend has said.

“Oh, I see my friend,” Kai says, just as Yeonjun stands up because he noticed you. “Yeon–”

“Y/N!” Yeonjun exclaims giddily, waving you over. Though his excitement quickly turns into confusion once he notices Kai standing next to you, his brows furrowing.

You glance at Kai. “Don’t tell me—”

“Yeonjun is the guy you’re meeting?”

“Yeonjun is the guy who said I’m the love of his life?”

Kai faces you, nodding slowly. But when you look back at Yeonjun, it only gets worse. His two friends have stood up, too, and when they turn, you recognize both of them, too.

Choi Beomgyu.

Kang Taehyun.

And then someone rushes inside the restaurant, nearly body-slamming into you because he’s busy staring at his phone.

“Soobin?” Your lips part as you gape at the tall guy.

“Y/N?” He looks at you. Then his eyes fly over to the boy standing next to you. “Kai?”

“You know each other?” Both boys question with their eyes wide while they stare between you and the other.

“Holy shit,” you murmur.

tags: @moonpri @addictedtohobi @dainsleif-when-playable @cloverwalker @ttaesoob @ivvees-blog @semi-wife @starrias @yunjica @lun4mizuka

feel free to ask to be tagged!

#txt x reader #txt fic #txt angst #txt fluff #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #huening kai x reader

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whirlybirbs · 10 months ago

Text

— BURNER CELL ; 2 ; DABI ; 荼毗

summary: after a week of silence, you finally text dabi. pairing: dabi / f!reader ; quirkless word count: 1.3k tag: humor, maladjusted dabi meets normal adult woman, flirting, canon-based world building, cancer mention, texting as a plot device, slight au, univeristy student!reader a/n: this stole all my concentration. siri play emo boy by ayesha erotica ← previous | the tag | next →

It's the kind of week where, aside from class, human interaction isn't really on life's setlist.

It's also the kind of week where you rediscover making a meal of raw cookie dough straight from the package. Your econ textbook might have a stranglehold on you, but you make enough time to scarf down a few globs between chapters — after all, who needs protein or fiber when you're sure this five-year master's program will kill you first?

Your head hurts.

You slump against the counter, refilling your water bottle.

It's late now — and you can feel the quiet woes beginning to wane as you blink at the clock. By now, your friends are probably on their second or third drinks. You turned the invite down when they asked yesterday. Nuri tugged on your sweater sleeve and pouted the best pout she could manage, but you didn't budge.

I've gotta finish this paper, I'm sorry, Nur'.

You roll your jaw as you shut the faucet off, wandering to your freezer to wrangle some cubes from the tray. You bend it slowly, deep in thought. A few pop out, and you idly drop them into your water bottle with a twang.

You're staring at your phone. It's by your computer on the counter.

...You never did text Dabi.

You told yourself it was for the best — after all, you weren't looking for a catastrophic derailment of your life at the moment. Things are good. You're two semesters away from finishing University, your family's bakery back in Kyoto is doing well, and Dad's chemotherapy seems to be working. Things are good! It's almost fall, you've managed to stick to your monthly budget, and Mizu settled in happily to your new apartment.

No four-day poop strike like the last time you moved.

The large tuxedo cat in question ambles through the kitchen — brushing against your leg and letting out a long, low mrrooow.

Things are great!

You shouldn't text Dabi.

But... even if you did, it's not like it'd be the end of the world, right?

Wait, could he figure out where you lived from your number...?

You could use one of those anonymous texting services. Then, it wouldn't even be your number. Just some fake string of digits that allow you to satiate the bizarre curiosity that's been swirling in your head for the last week.

You're sure the novelty will wear off.

He's probably not even going to respond.

You're telling yourself this is stupid as you begin to set up an account with the service — the app boasts privacy, andunlimited calls and texts... You can't help but feel a little strange as you finalize your account.

It's done.

You import his contact with two taps and stare at the blank screen.

...Now what?

Are you really going to do this? I mean — he's a wanted criminal. He's a member of the League of Villains. If anyone ever found out you were in contact with him, you'd be toast. You'd have All Might kicking your door in and demanding to look through your phone and that mental image is enough to make you cringe. Say goodbye to your degree, goodbye toyour future as Sakura Flour's owner, and goodbye to freedom. You're sure the Safety Commission would place you on some watch list for the rest of your life, and frankly, your tweets are already questionable. You don't need more scrutiny.

...So, there are two options.

Delete his number and move on... or don't get caught.

You shouldn't text Dabi.

...But, you do.

Truth be told, he isn't shocked to see that cute Nuri girl hanging on Giran's arm again. The Broker seems pretty into her — the guy even mentioned something about taking her to a nice dinner during the week as a congrats on passing some big test. Dabi can't blame him. She's cute. Looks good in red. Not his type, but he can appreciate it from time to time.

However, Dabi is a little shocked that you're not a part of the group cheering in Giran's VIP section. There's bottle service being ordered, laughter, dancing, and a gaggle of pretty, five college girls — and none of them are you.

His lips twist into a scowl.

He decides he's leaving; his piss-poor drink is tossed back, and he dumps a bill down for the bartender before tugging his hood up and sucking his teeth.

He never liked this club anyway.

He's crossing the threshold of the back door, stepping into the damp and dark alley, when the phone in his back pocket buzzes. Someone's smoking a Marlboro by the dumpster. The familiar smell makes Dabi's fingers twitch.

He's tryna quit.

He tugs the phone from his pocket, no longer bothered by the splintered glass screen. His battery is at 13%. This fuckin' thing barely holds a charge anymore.

The number on the screen isn't one he knows.

Dabi's passcode is unnecessarily long. His phone clicks open as he narrows his eyes and shambles towards the opening in the alley. He doesn't know this number. He has everyone's cell memorized that he needs. Shigaraki, Toga, Spinner, Jin, Compress, even Giran. He doesn't keep contacts. Doesn't work when he's ditching phones all the time. He's got his noggin. That's good enough.

The text is one word:

hi.

Dabi's squinting at the text when another buzzes through.

← 909.999.3399 ; 11:48pm sorry, this is bar girl

→ dabi ; 11:46pm thought u were never gonna txt me ur girlie nuri is here where r u

There's no way.

Your phone buzzes three times from its far place where it sits face down on the counter — you just walked away from it, hellbent on distracting yourself while you waited out the potential reply. You go rigid in your kitchen.

Did he seriously text you back immediately?

You purse your lips, then slink towards the phone. It buzzes again.

→ dabi ; 11:47pm c'mon don't leave me hangin pretty

Your eyes are wide as you stare at the string of replies. He has read receipts turned on like the psychopath he is.

You lean back against the counter, chewing your cuticle as you let out a ragged sigh. Nuri is with him? Or... No, they said they were going to that club you hate.

← 909.999.3399 ; 11:4pam oh, are they at the bar?‎

Dabi's fingers move fast.

→ dabi ; 11:49pm nah in downtown club tropical or whatever the fuck it's called

You snort a little.

← 909.999.3399 ; 11:49pm i hate that place. their drinks suck.

Dabi has started making his way back to their hideout — back to the shit box apartments they're renting above Kurogiri's bar. He's slow, idly texting as he weaves through the crowds of nightlife in Kamino Ward.

→ dabi ; 11:50pm a girl after my own heart where r u ur dodging my question u on a date or smthng????

He's insistent, you'll give him that. You cross your legs as you lean back against the laminate counter and chew the inside of your lip.

He's typing. It starts, then stops, then starts again.

When you start typing, the bubble disappears.

← 909.999.3399 ; 11:50pm nah, got a huge paper to finish uni student, remember? sorry to disappoint

→ dabi ; 11:51pm ur missin out giran got bottle service him and nuri looked cozy

← 909.999.3399 ; 11:51pm not shocked she thinks she can fix him

→ dabi ; 11:51pm ooooo love when that happens poor girl

Typing...

→ dabi ; 11:51pm u think u can fix me? :p

The emoji makes your face break into a smile — it's so... not what you expected.

← 909.999.3399 ; 11:52pm nah i'm not stupid

→ dabi ; 11:52pm just busy....really lame of u tbh coulda been fun

← 909.999.3399 ; 11:52pm wasting cash on mid drinks is the opposite of fun

→ dabi ; 11:52pm i meant seeing me

Oh, what the fuck.

Why does that text make your face feel hot? Why does that text make you feel like you're not texting the League of Villain's #1 Arsonist, but some cute boy from class? He's not a cute boy from class. He's a danger to society.

You're glad you don't have the opportunity to reply. Your phone is buzzing in your hands, the haptic feedback lighting the neurons in your brain on fire.

→ dabi ; 11:53pm gtg phone is gonna die have fun with ur paper u loser hope u get a good grade or whatever i'll txt u later

You shouldn't have texted Dabi.

But you did.

#burner cell #mha dabi #bnha x reader #bnha dabi #dabi todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi imagine #mha imagine #bnha imagine #touya x reader #touya x y/n #dabi x y/n #this is ridiculously fun i love these two haters

452 notes · View notes

yeoobiii · 11 months ago

Note

hello, can I ask you to write a mini story about Heeseung, where he teaches Y/n how to kiss 🙏🏻

⋆｡°✩ 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙙

꩜ bestfriend!heeseung x gn!reader

꩜ best friends to lovers (?), first kisses

꩜ during a game of truth or dare you admit to all your friends for the first time that you've never been kissed and that you're frankly scared you'll mess up once the situation presents itself. Heeseung sees a perfect opportinity to help you out with that.

or: Heeseung teaches his best friend how to kiss and both of you get a bit lost in it

wc: 5.1k (this has gotten a bit longer than I intended to but honestly I just went with the flow and here we are.)

warnings: consumption of alcohol

a/n: thank you for the request, anon! btw requests are open if you'd like me to write something specific, I can't promise you anything on how quickly I'll get it done or if it's something I'm up to writing but like the link is in my bio :)

I hope you like this, anon!

There’s a few things none of your college friends knew about you. Despite knowing most of them for over three years now, some things just never came up naturally in conversation. Like the fact that you’ve not had your first kiss yet.

Why make a big deal out of it? You’ve also never been in love before. You didn’t feel the urge to inform everyone about these things, especially since most of your friends have a rather active dating life. You wanted to do these things at your own pace and didn’t want anyone involved in how you could “solve that problem”. You simply never intended on telling them. That is until last weekend happened and somehow your roommates were able to convince you to participate in a game of truth or dare.

It was a Thursday night and your roommate told you that they were having a few friends over for a cozy hang out and you were definitely down to chill with them because the both of you were friends with similar people and got along great in general, so having a few drinks with your friends in your dorm room seemed like a nice way to spend the evening.

And everything went smoothly enough, people were trickling in and out, the overall vibe very casual and comfortable. That is however until your friend Sofia suggested a game of truth or dare. To be fair, the overall intake of alcohol increased as the evening was progressing. It was almost inevitable that a suggestion like that would arouse sooner or later.

Before you even properly thought about it, you agreed to play and sat down in a circle with around five other tipsy college students.

Only later on did your brain register that Heeseung was one of the few chosen ones. For a split second you even wondered when he had arrived, but then you remembered that he greeted you with a friendly embrace when he first arrived about half an hour ago.

Technically, there was nothing wrong with him participating in the same game, the both of you were friends after all.

You met Heeseung pretty much the first day college started, you were both in stats together and happened to be sitting next to each other on the first day and it’s been like that ever since. However, you guys didn’t hit it off right away, you were friendly with each other, sure, but that mostly also out of convenience and occasionally you shared your notes with each other or he was making sure you didn’t fall asleep in class. It was all really casual and you would have considered him more like a colleague than a friend.

That was the case until one particular night that was destined to shape the kind of friendship the two of you would have with each other forever.

It was one of your first frat parties, the first semester was about to end and freshmen with various kinds of majors gathered to celebrate this collective milestone. Safe to say the liquor was being poured without much hesitation.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve run into Heeseung at a frat party either. Usually you’d shoot each other the occasional nod, acknowledging the other’s presence and moving on with your night and that’s all there was to it.

However, fate had other plans for this particular night.

At one point you excused yourself from the dance floor and went out the back door into the small garden to catch some fresh air, to your surprise not many people were out there, just you and a small group of three people maybe, who seemed to be passing around a blunt.

It took you a second glance to not only see your roommate but also Heeseung being part of that group, your roommate immediately greeting you enthusiastically upon locking eyes with you and beckoning for you to sit with them.

Shortly after you were sitting on your ass, your roommate's arm interlocked with yours, being pulled into the conversation easily.

Heeseung sent a brief smile of acknowledgement your way, before taking a hit from the joint. You returned his smile and also greeted the fourth person sitting with you who was eventually introduced as Heeseung’s friend Jake.

The joint was being passed around and eventually landed in your hand as well and afterwards the conversation seemed to flow effortlessly. You joked and laughed along to whatever your company was saying but were also emerged in the more heated discussions.

At one point you were so deep into the conversation with Jake that you didn’t even realize your roommate getting up and going back inside and like ten minutes later, Jakes excused himself to the bathroom and didn’t seem to return anymore.

Which only left Heeseung and you.

Now, you’d be lying if you’d say being in such close proximity with a cute guy like Heeseung, all by yourselves in this somewhat intimate setting left you completely unaffected. You could feel yourself growing slightly flustered at nothing in particular, but you eventually catched yourself when Heeseung asked.

“So, what’s your favorite dinosaur?”

You fell into comfortable conversation after that and the longer the night went on, the more intense the topics got.

Whenever you think back to that one particular part of the evening it kinda feels like Heeseung and you were the only two things existing at the moment. Your brain didn’t register the people stepping in and out of the garden as the hours passed by.

It was well past 3am when you checked your phone for the time since sitting down. You told Heeseung and he was just as shocked as you were at how quickly the time had passed, almost apologizing for taking up so much of your time, but you assured him you were enjoying yourself.

“It has been a while since I sat down like that and was able to talk to someone for hours about whatever popped into my head.” You admitted to him and he seemed satisfied with that judging by the smile that graced his lips.

“Me too.”

And you could swear by the way his eyes shimmered in that moment that there was something – whatever that may have been – between the both of you. Or maybe it was just the weed.

Regardless of what you guys shared was something different than what you thought it might have been, you grew close very quickly after that evening. Heeseung started to joke around with you in class, you eventually asked him for his number and social media, he started sending you memes occasionally, you started to hang out outside of class in your little friend group.

At one point you were convinced he was actively seeking you out at parties, because ever since that evening, you always bumped into each other sooner or later during the night.

And whatever there might have been that one evening, nothing came of it. However, it almost seemed like you grew closer to Heeseung than all your other friends. People in your friend group would casually call you best friends and the more time passed the more that statement became true.

All occurrences in the past have led you to playing truth or dare on a Thursday night on the floor of your dorm room with each other. And usually that wouldn’t be an issue. Heeseung and you have progressed to a stage in your friendship where you knew almost everything about each other; almost.

You could feel the alcohol running in your system and were sincerely hoping you wouldn’t say something that you’d eventually regret. You just crossed your fingers and hoped for the best.

For the most part the game did run smoothly, it was fun and you had a good time, the only dare you had to do was show them your most embarrassing dance move.

That is until your roommate asked you truth or dare.

“Truth” you chose this time

“What was your first kiss like and who was it with?”

The question in and of itself was harmless, it matched the vibe of the very easy going game they had going on, Nonetheless, you felt put on the spot and before you could stop yourself – because you can’t pull off a lie for the life of you – you blurt out that you’ve never been kissed.

None of your friends seemed super unfazed by this seeing how you’ve not dated one person since you started college but Sofia’s eyes grew double in size.

“Not even a peck on the lips or something?” she questioned a bit bewildered.

You just shook your head, seeing from the corner of your eye how your roommate gave Sofia a light nudge at even asking such a question.

You couldn’t help but risk a short glance at Heeseung and were almost a bit startled when his eyes met yours instantly. He sent you a soft smile upon locking eyes with you. Was that pity you saw in his eyes? Your stomach turned itself upside down.

You really wish you could say it didn’t bother you at all, that at the age of 21 you’ve never kissed someone before. You didn’t want it to be a big deal, it really shouldn’t be a big deal.

But you couldn’t help but think that you lacked something or were one step behind everyone. It felt like missing out on an experience that usually people have in their late teens and early twenties.

You don’t know why it hasn’t happened for you yet. It’s not even that you want it to be with someone really special, the moment has simply never presented itself before and you usually take this for what it is, but right now – Heeseung’s expression burned into your skull – you suddenly feel a bit small.

“It’s not just that” you eventually start to break the silence, not yet realizing that you were about to make this so much worse, “it’s also the fact that even if I’d want to kiss someone, I wouldn’t know how.”

It took your drunken mind a hot minute to catch up with what you just said. Something within you simply wanted to fill the silence but the fact that your filter was basically non-existent due to your tipsy state was not taken into consideration the moment you opened your mouth.

You mentally slapped yourself across the face, this time not having the courage to even glance into Heeseung’s direction.

“It’s not that hard, I can show you!” Your roommate offered enthusiastically, intentions pure.

Your face flushed at the suggestion and you cringed a bit, more out of embarrassment that you ended up in this situation in the first place than by the proposal itself.

“I’ll let you know if I ever want to take you up on that suggestion.” You reply as nonchalantly as you can muster.

It’s not like the thought of asking a friend how to properly kiss has occurred to you before, but you could never quite bring yourself to get the request past your lips.

Your friends laugh at your response and easily move on with the conversation, taking the attention off of you. And that was that. Or at least that’s what you thought…

Two weeks later you enter the lecture hall and already spot Heeseung sitting in his usual spot and just like on autopilot you placed yourself next to him and the both of you exchanged greetings, just like you usually would. You’d also catch up about your weekends and shortly after the lecture started, taking up both of your attention.

It wasn’t until halfway through the lecture that Heeseung poked your shoulder, extending his notebook to you, clearly wanting to show you something.

With blue ink he has written on the page:

“You want me to teach you?”

Your eyebrows furrow, confused at what he meant.

You write down below him:

“Teach me what?” Confusion clear on your face as you watch him write something else.

“How to kiss”

You choked on your own spit.

Heeseung chuckled next to you. You could smack him across the head right now and you made a mental note to do just that once class is over.

Once you collected yourself, you took the pen from Heeseung and wrote three question marks under his proposal.

Why would he offer to teach you in the first place and out of all the places to suggest this to you he chose the middle of your lecture? Why?

He grinned at your question marks and if you didn’t know him any better you thought he was making fun of you. Had any other person done this to you, you’d probably actually have been hurt but first of all you still didn’t know if he was serious and second of all it was Heeseung. You knew him well enough to know he’d never use such a situation to make fun of you.

At that moment the professor seemed to notice your lack of attention and decided to ask you a question directly, returning your attention to the lecture where it stayed until you were dismissed.

The topic didn’t arise again between Heeseung and you even though the whole scenario didn’t seem to be able to leave your mind. At lunch you stared at Heesung making conversation with Jake over something you did not pay attention to, trying to figure him out.

In your head the puzzle pieces were just not fitting. Why would he suggest that all of a sudden? And why was it so hard for you to find an answer to his question…

After the whole frat party thing where you originally became friends, you had developed a small crush on Heeseung that gradually developed as time went by. It’s just after some time had passed and neither of you made any advances towards the other you eventually abandoned the idea of getting with Heeseung and were left with two options, getting over your crush or having to live with your unrequited feelings.

You chose the first option. It took you quite some time but you managed to accept the fact that Heeseung was simply a really good friend and your feelings faded as seasons changed.

You’d be lying saying they ever went away completely. There’s no reason denying that Heeseung was painfully your type and that no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself that you didn’t like him like that anymore, you were attracted to him.

So, saying his suggestion to teach you how to kiss took you by surprise was the understatement of the century.

He probably just tried to be a good friend, right? Your roommate had suggested to teach you as well back then and there were no other intentions behind that, you were certain of that. So, why are you questioning Heeseung so much?

The topic didn’t come up again until one day you were hanging out in your dorm room. Just your roommate, Heeseung and yourself. It was often like that, sometimes Jake was also around but today it was just the three of you, that is at least until your roommate told you that they were heading out for dinner at around six and didn’t know when they’d be back.

Once they left, it was just Heeseung and you left.

Ever since he made his suggestion in class, you dreaded being alone with him, because you didn’t know if the topic would come up again or if you even wanted it to.

Heeseung was lying on your bed, his feet resting on your lap, while you were sitting at the end of the bed, back resting against the wall. Heeseung was scrolling through his phone when you decided to address the elephant in the room, because you figured if he wasn’t the one to bring it up, why shouldn’t you?

“Were you serious?” you simply said, not in any particular tone, just wanting to clear the haze in your head.

“Do you mean about the kissing thing?” He said without looking away from his face. The fact that he instantly knew what you were talking about indicated enough that he was aware it’s been eating at you.

You nod.

He locked his phone and threw it to the side, moving to sit up and also lean his back against the wall so that he can face you.

“I was and I still am.” He said, no trace of irony to be found.

“Why?” You couldn’t help but ask.

He shrugged his shoulders, “It seemed like it bothered you that day. You know, when you told everyone how you’re scared you’d mess up if it comes down to the real thing?”

He teased at you being so open due to liquid courage, a small smile forming on his face as you rolled your eyes at him.

“I was put on the spot and that was the only thing my brain provided at the moment to fill the silence.” You whine more frustrated with yourself than anyone else.

“So, you’re not worried about that?” He asked in return.

It was silent for a moment as you contemplated his question. You could easily dig yourself a way out of this by denying it, convincing him it was mainly the liquor talking. But you and Heeseung were never really the type to lie to each other.

“I am” you eventually admit, not meeting his eyes “I don’t know… It’s a bit silly but like I don’t know anyone my age who hasn’t been kissed before and I feel like it’s gonna be really awkward if the situation arises and I chicken out because I have no idea how to actually kiss someone.”

Heeseung listened to you and took your words in before answering.

“But you know, most first kisses are kinda awkward, I think.”

“Was your first kiss weird at all?” You asked him.

“Yeah, very.” He chuckled, sitting up more on the bed, “it was kinda too much of everything, too much teeth, too much spit, just entirely too much.”

He shuddered a bit, recollecting his first kiss.

“See? And I’d have no idea about any of that.” You said almost a bit frustrated.

“Then let me show you.” He insisted, your eyes meeting.

The way he says it so casually makes you want to rip your hair out.

“It’s just a kiss, right? And it’s me! You don’t have to be embarrassed with me.” He said, eyebrows slightly raised, trying to ease your mind.

You look at him. He looks cozy in his oversized sweatshirt, his body language his usual relaxed self. It was still a bit fascinating how he could take this all so lightly but then again, it really was just a kiss for him.

And you know you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t kiss Heeseung. In fact, your head is screaming at you not to kiss him, because the risk of buried feelings resurfacing is simply too big. But you’d also be lying to yourself if you’d say you weren’t curious what his lips would feel like against yours and it were thoughts like this that’d mean certain doom for you sooner or later.

At your silence Heeseung added “Look, there’s really no pressure at all. I just thought maybe you’d like to know a few things that will help ease your mind, but of course you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

And of course he would say that. Of course he’d go out of his way to reassure you that you’re safe with him and that he respected your choice no matter what. Maybe sharing your first kiss with Heeseung wasn’t that bad of an idea after all. At least like that you could make sure it’s someone who respects you and your boundaries, someone who makes sure you feel safe and comfortable no matter what.

Maybe you could allow yourself this. Maybe having this as the memory of your first kiss wasn’t too bad.

“Like, right now?” You asked, which seemed to surprise Heeseung a little. He must have been convinced you’d turn him down.

“I mean, whenever is fine.” He responded suddenly you could see his cool demeanor crack, spotting a few hints of nervousness behind the cracks.

“I think, I’d be down.” You eventually say after contemplating for another minute.

“Really?” Heeseung’s eyebrows were almost at his hairline.

“Lee Heeseung, if you tell me right now that all of this has been a sick joke of yours after all, I’m ending this friendship right now.”

Panic flashed in his eyes.

“No! No, of course not. I was being serious. I just didn’t think…. I didn’t think you’d agree.” he admitted.

“So, how does this work?” you ask, not knowing where to even start.

“Oh, so you really want to do it right now, I see.” Heeseung mumbled more to himself than anyone in particular.

He scooted slightly closer to you.

“Well, first we gotta get closer.” He moves to sit next to you on the bed, shoulders touching.

You watch him, fascinated at how quickly his shyness has been replaced by his cool, nonchalant demeanours once again.

Heeseung and you have cuddled on more than one occasion before, but this feels different, you’re hyper aware of the place where his shoulder is bumping into yours and your tights are touching. This close, you could smell his cologne and shampoo.

“It’s not that complicated really” he starts explaining.

“If you want to just have a small, simple kiss. We’d both tilt our heads slightly as we get closer. Let me show you.”

He turns towards you, his eyes meeting yours. And you could swear there it was again. That shimmer from the first night the both of you actually talked to each other. You push that thought to the back of your head, the indications behind that too overwhelming for what’s about to happen right now.

His hand hovers above your cheek and you nod, allowing him to gently grab you by the jaw and tilt your head into one direction. The distance between his and your face shrinks as he does so, the pace of your heartbeat picking up in the process.

You could feel his breath against your lips as he spoke again.

“This is usually the point most people close their eyes and then you just… kiss.”

You close your eyes and a moment later you felt the sensation of Heeseung’s lips softly pressing against yours. All thoughts seem to leave your head the instant your lips touched, your heart basically beating out of your chest. It took you a moment to actually process the sensation and just as you were about to lose yourself in the feeling, Heeseung pulled back slightly.

“You know, this is the part where you kiss me back.” He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine and maybe it was all in your head but you could swear his voice sounded different then just a second ago; a bit deeper, maybe even a bit flustered.

“My bad” you said, making Heeseung throw his head back with laughter, making you giggle as well.

It eases your anxiety a bit that even in stations like this, you were able to just laugh with him and easing the tension so easily.

“No worries” he laughed “Wanna try again?”

Again?

What did he mean again? Wasn’t that it?

Despite yourself, you nod.

“Okay, this time make sure to reciprocate the pressure I put against your lips, got it?”

“Got it” you kept your replies fairly short, afraid your voice would fail you otherwise.

Before you knew it, Heeseung was leaning in again.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

You close your eyes and soon after you feel the now familiar pressure of his lips again, this time making sure to kiss him back. Without thinking about it, your hand found its way onto Heeseung’s neck, where your fingers absentmindedly played with hair as you were kissing him.

This kiss lasted longer than the first one, you could feel Heeseung moving against you and followed his lead. It was easier to flow into the rhythm than you’d have thought, his lips soft and gentle against yours.

You were starting to feel lightheaded as he pulled away again and you had to resist the urge to chase after his lips.

“That was pretty good” he said, slightly out of breath, his pupils slightly dilated, his gaze fixed on your lips before he looked up at you.

“Also the thing you did with your hand, it seems like you’re a natural.” He chucked.

That’s when you saw your hand still resting against his neck, you instantly pulled it away once your brain caught up to what he was saying.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize…”

For a second there was a silence between the both of you; a silence that wasn’t quiet at all. You couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of him and neither could he. You could probably cut the tension with a knife.

“And what if… what if I’d want it to get more intense, you know?”

Heeseung’s eyebrows shot up.

“More intense?” He said, knowing very well what you were implying.

“I get how just kissing someone on the lips like that might not be that hard but what if– what if it goes further?”

Heeseung cleared his throat at your words and sat up straighter.

“You mean, if you would want to deepen the kiss?” He inquired.

You just nod, looking up at him, not failing to notice the light blush that’s starting to form on his cheeks, matching your own flusteredness.

“You want me to show you as well?”

You nod. Something about how his lips feel against yours was addictive, making you throw all your previous reservations out of the window.

“It’s kinda hard to explain though. I’d just have to show you?” He said, a bit unsure.

“That’s okay.”

“Okay so, basically you start with a kiss just like we shared before. You’ll just have to let me lead, okay?”

Something about the way he said that sent a shiver down your spine, words refusing to leave your mouth so you just nod.

Soon enough, his lips were on yours again and even though you were only separated for a few minutes, you already started to miss the sensation and the tingle it made you feel in your stomach and chest. Naturally, your hand found its way back into his hair.

Suddenly, you felt his tongue brush against your bottom lip and your heart took a leap. Instinctively, you opened your mouth for him. A few moments pass and he starts licking gently into your mouth.

You actively have to suppress sounds that were starting to build in the back of your throat at the sensation.

You could also feel one of his hands pressing against your waist while the other one was busy cupping your cheek.

Without much thinking you pressed forward, wanting to match his eagerness, which led to your teeth clinking against each other to which Heeseung pulled back slightly, chuckling.

“Take it slow, yeah?” He said, his face still incredibly close to yours.

As you nod at his remark he dives back in, taking you by surprise a bit. You were welcoming the touch of lips nonetheless.

This time you tried to dial down your eagerness and gently let his tongue guide yours, your insides turning into mush in the process.

Without thinking you slightly pulled at his hair, making him hum against your lips.

He must like that? you think to yourself.

Your stomach did a 360 at the thought of stirring him on further.

At this point your tongues were dancing with each other gently, no trance of any kind of hesitation left, the feeling leaving your head dizzy and your heart fluttering.

The way Heeseung kept pulling you in by your jaw and how his grip on your hip was getting tighter.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a really long time.” He suddenly blurts out in between kisses and if you wouldn’t be so lost in the feeling of his lips on yours you’d stop to question his statement, but right now your heart simply leaped in your chest.

Overcome by a sudden wave of braveness, you swung one of your legs across his lap, straddling him. Heeseung looked at you starstruck, his hands instantly finding their way to your hips caressing them.

You took the time to look at him for a moment, his pupils were practically blown out and he looked so pretty with kiss swollen lips, glistering with both of your spit.

This was the first time you initiated the kiss, he easily reciprocated.

The kisses were sometimes still a bit sloppy but neither you nor Heeseung seemed to care, too lost in the feeling of each other’s bodies pressed against each other.

His hands were traveling up your sides and down your tights again and you were drowning in this feeling, of his hands touching you; exploring you. Soon enough, him trying to teach you how to kiss turned into a full on make out session.

That was until your roommate burst into the room without any announcement, making you jump off of Heeseung in an instant, cursing your body for immediately missing his closeness.

You both looked guilty and flustered as your roommate looked the both of you up and down.

“My bad, I’m just here to grab my charger. Continue with what you’ve been doing. It was only a matter of time until this happened anyway.”

They said and were gone as quickly as they had arrived.

You and Heeseung looked at each other for a second. Both of you burst into laughter shortly after.

“I think at some point we should really have a conversation about what exactly this is between us.” He gestured between the both of you after recovering from the sudden interruption.

And you were glad he brought it up because you think your heart would have been shattered into a hundred pieces if this didn’t have the same effect on him as it had on you; making your stomach flutter, turning your insides into mush, craving more.

“Better sooner than later, right?” you smile at him, hope filling your heart.

feel free to let me know your thoughts <3

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pure-smut · 11 months ago

Text

say red.

featuring: Iwaizumi Hajime x f!reader

contains: academic rivals to lovers, dom!Iwaizumi, rough s*x, degradation, dirty talk, creampie

note: all characters are over 18!

MDNI | 18+ content

word count: 2k

series: 1. say red | 2. say red | 3. say red

masterlist

You’d never paid attention to Iwaizumi Hajime. Just another face in the lecture hall, another voice answering questions, another serious guy with a serious face taking things so seriously.

It’s only when you’re paired together to work on a semester-long project that you pay attention to him for the first time. And wow – he’s fucking annoying.

“We need to meet up more than once every two weeks,” Iwaizumi tells you, frowning at your suggestion. “We won’t get enough done before the deadline.”

“It’ll be fiiiine,” you sigh. “The project barely contributes to our grade. All we need to do is pass.”

Iwaizumi narrows his olive eyes at you, entirely displeased.

“How are you,” he bites out. “… top of the class?”

You give him a sweet smile, throwing up a peace sign.

“Because I’m great, obviously.”

You had somewhat noticed that Iwaizumi’s name was always second below yours whenever test scores were published. It’s clear that’s a sticking point for him because he clenches his teeth so hard, you can see a muscle bouncing in his jaw.

“We’re meeting up twice a week,” Iwaizumi says, standing. When you open your mouth to protest, he gives you a hard look. “That’s final.”

You roll your eyes and shrug.

“Fine, fine.” A grin crawls across your face. “Iwa.”

He shoots you a disgusted look.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What, Iwa? It’s cute.”

Iwaizumi pokes his tongue into his cheek and rolls his eyes skyward.

“Whatever.”

With that, he gathers his bag and stomps out of the lecture hall. Your gaze follows the back of him as he disappears, the smile only slipping off your face when he leaves.

“So annoying,” you mutter to yourself, packing up your own things.

But it’s only until the end the semester. You can grin and bear it that long. Plus, it’s like you said before – the project barely impacts your grades. Iwaizumi might want to force you into way too many boring meetings but you have absolutely no intention of cooperating.

Iwaizumi messages you his address and a time to come round to work on the project.

Gotta buy a girl dinner first before you invite her to your bedroom, you message him back. He ignores you.

Like most other students, he lives on campus with a few other roommates. You half-expect to see them when you arrive at Iwaizumi’s but he tells you he’s chosen a day when everyone else is out.

“I need some peace and quiet if I’m dealing with you,” Iwaizumi says.

“Flattered,” you reply.

His room is neat and tidy, a smattering of volleyball trophies on the shelves. You vaguely remember that he’s on the college volleyball team but you didn’t know he’s good enough to have trophies. You smooth your features into something neutral so he doesn’t know you’re impressed.

You both sit at his desk, where Iwaizumi’s already set up notepads, pens and sticky notes.

“You’re prepared,” you remark, eliciting a heavy sigh from Iwaizumi.

“I’m sure it seems that way to someone who doesn’t even bring a pencil to class.”

You swing side to side on his wheely chair as Iwaizumi launches into his plan for the project, talking you through the list of bullet points. You make noncommittal noises, your eyes drifting off.

He has kind of a nice face, you think, your gaze dropping from his short dark hair to his sharp jaw. Iwaizumi’s wearing a t-shirt that stretches across his broad chest, the sleeves tight around his biceps. Damn, he’s pretty built, too.

Iwaizumi continues talking as your mind wanders. You wonder if he’s a good kisser. Hmm, probably too serious for that. Only chaste tongueless kisses and missionary in the dark.

You grin at your own thoughts and Iwaizumi stops talking mid-sentence.

“What are you laughing at?” His brow furrows. “You’re not even fucking listening.”

“Uh, no, not really,” you admit, throwing your hands up in defeat.

“Jesus christ…” Iwaizumi puts his elbows on the desk, digging his palms into his eyes.

He wants to launch himself out of the window. How is it possible that you of all people beat him in class? He freezes when he feels your finger trail over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Iwaizumi looks up.

“You’re so tense,” you say. You’re not lying – Iwaizumi’s muscles are like boulders. You give his bicep a poke and realise there’s almost no give. “Maybe that’s why you’re taking this so seriously.”

“You’re just taking this too lightly,” he says, frowning.

You’re looking at him weirdly, your eyes locked onto his, and the way you’re touching his arm is making his cheeks feel warm. What the fuck is going on?

Iwaizumi’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard and you smile, knowing you’ve got him. You stand up to move over and put yourself in Iwaizumi’s lap instead. His thighs are as hard as the rest of him and it feels like sitting in an actual chair. You wrap your arms around his neck.

“You’re kind of cute, y’know,” you say, cocking your head.

“Kind of,” he echoes, giving you a flat look. “Thanks.”

Iwaizumi’s hand rests on your thigh despite his unimpressed tone. You give him a sweet smile and trail a finger along his jaw, feeling the slight stubble there.

“Maybe you need some stress relief, hm?” you suggest, dragging your finger down to his hard chest.

“And you’re offering?”

“I thought you were supposed to be smart?” You cock an eyebrow. “Obviously, yes.”

Iwaizumi regards you, eyes sharp, and your breath hitches. Your smile nearly falters but you save it in time. It feels like he’s looking through you, into you. It’s a struggle to hold his gaze but you’ve never been one to back down. So you look right back at him.

Iwaizumi’s eyes soften and you see him smile for the first time. No, he smirks.

“Say red,” he tells you. “And I’ll stop.”

“O-okay.” You’re annoyed at yourself for stammering but something’s changed with Iwaizumi and it’s thrown you off.

“Repeat it back to me.”

“If I say red, you’ll stop,” you tell him and he gives a short nod, satisfied.

“Good.”

Iwaizumi stands abruptly, picking you up with him and throwing you on the bed. You yelp at the sudden movement, bouncing softly against the mattress.

“What-?”

You don’t have time to ask what the fuck is happening before Iwaizumi’s on you. He presses his mouth against yours, kissing you roughly. He pushes his body between your legs, forcing them apart to accommodate his thick frame.

One of Iwaizumi’s hands grabs your hip as the other snakes around your throat, holding you with enough force for you to feel it but not so hard you’re gasping. His soft lips are in contrast to the sharp stubble scratching your skin, his tongue sliding over yours.

Okay, I might have been wrong, you think. There’s nothing chaste about this.

Iwaizumi grinds his bulge against your clothed pussy, now exposed to him as he tugs up your dress. The friction through two layers of fabric is teasing, making your hips buck, desperate for more. You moan into his mouth and he squeezes your throat.

“Needy little slut,” he says roughly.

Iwaizumi’s degrading words only serve to turn you on even more. His voice has completely changed, now deep and throaty and utterly commanding. Iwaizumi keeps one hand around your neck as his other reaches down to unbutton his jeans.

“Is this what you want so badly?” he says as he pulls his cock free.

You gasp as it slaps against your mound, sending a spark of pleasure through you. You try to nod but Iwaizumi has your throat in too tight a grip.

“Use your fucking words,” he spits. “Tell me.”

“Y-yes, I want it. Please, I want it.”

Iwaizumi reaches down and you hear a violent rip. You’re not able to look down, your head fixed in place, but there’s a cool breeze across your exposed pussy. Your mouth drops open as you realise he’s ripped your panties clean off.

Iwaizumi smirks at your reaction.

“You act like a slut, you get treated like one.”

The Iwaizumi you knew before, so serious and studious, is long gone. You look up at him, his eyes feral, and realise you’ve severely underestimated who you’re up against. He lines up the fat head of his cock with your dripping hole.

“Look how fucking wet you are already.” Iwaizumi pushes himself inside you and you give a choked moan at the feel of him stretching you. “You don’t even need me to get you started, do you? You’ll spread your legs for fucking anyone.”

Iwaizumi’s flurry of degradation is making your pussy drool for him, only spurring you both on. But a nugget of defiance forms in your chest, even as tears stick to your lashes.

“This what your needy little pussy wants?” he demands, pushing in deeper to bottom out.

His cock feels so fucking good, dragging against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you to make your whole body feel like it’s on fire, but your determination not to let him take over fully kicks in.

“Y-yes, Iwa,” you breathe out.

Iwaizumi’s jaw clenches.

“I told you not to fucking call me that,” he grits out.

As if to punctuate, he starts to pound at you hard. Every slam pushes you closer to the edge, sending a jolt through your body to the tips of your toes. His large hand around your neck is delicious, pinning you beneath him as he fucks you raw. You sink your nails into his forearm, lustful whimpers falling from your lips.

“S-sorry…” you gasp. “… Iwa.”

Iwaizumi growls, moving faster and setting a brutal pace.

“Fucking brat.”

You don’t have the strength to talk back anymore. Iwaizumi’s cock is pulling you to the edge, making your eyes roll back in your skull as he rips an orgasm from you. Your pussy clenches down like a vice grip around his cock and a moan escapes Iwaizumi’s throat.

“Fuck… fuck…” he groans.

Iwaizumi fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, wanting to watch you bounce under him. Your walls are so slick, so hot, so fucking tight. You’re tearing down all his restraint, moaning so sweetly even as his fist is wrapped around your throat. He knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m… gonna cum…” Iwaizumi says, voice hoarse.

“Inside me,” you plead. “Cum inside me, Iwa.”

Your words tip him over the edge.

His grip tightens on your neck, almost making you dizzy, as he thrusts once, burying himself fully. The moan he makes as he comes undone inside you is intoxicating, satisfying in a way you can’t explain. Iwaizumi’s chest heaves as he half-collapses on top of you, his arms shaking as he holds himself up.

Neither of you say anything, breathless and sweat-slicked.

“Well.” You break the silence with a grin. “I dunno about you but I definitely feel better.”

Iwaizumi’s serious face returns as he rolls his eyes, pulling away from you. He tugs a few tissues free from a box on his nightstand, handing them to you first before himself.

“What a gentleman,” you coo, cleaning yourself up.

“It’s polite. I’m not a savage.”

“The way you fuck says different.”

Even though you’ve still got his cum spilling out of you, Iwaizumi’s ears go pink at your comment. He ignores you and buttons his jeans back up. Cute, you think with a smile.

You point at your destroyed underwear.

“And you ruined my panties. That was rude.”

Iwaizumi’s cheeks tint as he blushes harder.

“Yeah, sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll buy you a new pair.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Finished cleaning yourself up, you hop off his bed and straighten your dress. “I’ll just make sure I’m not wearing any next time.”

Iwaizumi stills.

“Next time?”

“Duh.” You put a hand on your hip. “That was great, right? And my head feels totally clear. I think I’m actually ready to listen to your project plan or whatever.”

You take a seat at his desk, hands clasped demurely on your lap and smiling sweetly.

“Twice a week you said?”

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cillians-sweetheart · 3 months ago

Note

hello hon, how are you doing? if you're taking requests please i need to read a slow burn about jim tds x reader. large age gap, smut, whatever you wanna add!!!

Hello, I’m going great thank you :) and of course!! I’m not sure if it’s exactly what you were expecting but I hope you like it!! 🤍

The Teachers Possession- Jim TDS

Teacher!Jim(45) x Student!Reader(18)

Plot: When starting a new high school English class Y/N has been looking forward to, she meets a teacher who overtime begins to grow intensely obsessed with her. He craves every little of her, and daydreams of her to an unhealthy extent… which later leads to him risking everything to have her.

Content: age-gap, smut, extreme obsession and possessiveness, perverted and addictive thoughts and behaviours, masturbation (m), leg kink, kissing, unprotected pv, oral (f), desk sex, dub-con, online stalking, semi-public sex

(Because we don't know Jim's last name in The Delinquent Season, we're just gonna say his last name is Murphy in this scenario.)

Starting my final grade of highschool and second semester, I was placed into the advanced english class I’ve been meaning; and was excited to do.

The first few days were normal as they were just introductions and getting to know the classroom. The teacher had an unusual way of teaching and introducing. He was older, tall, fit, and uncomfortably observant. Eye contact felt like your eyes were melting when you looked at him. They were eyes so gentle, yet so terrifying.

I always found him quite alluring looking–different for sure–unlike others who either are all the way or not at all for him. I thought he was quite interesting with how he taught and talked.

After those few days, He stood in the front of the room with a paper gripped in his hand, and his eyes scanning over the room. Everyone became quiet and turned forward.

“Okay,” He pulled the paper up closer to his face. “I have made a seating arrangement.”

Kids groaned and complained to their friends sitting next to them. And Mr Murphy began pointing to seats, assigning them to peoples names. I sat waiting for him to call on me, and when he did, he held a long stare and pointed to the table directly across from his.

I grabbed my bag and moved to the front of the room at that one desk where you were so close you could read every sheet of paper on his desk. His eyes followed me to the desk, glued to my legs.

At first I did not like sitting so close to the front, or to the teacher, but as a week passed I hadn’t cared anymore. I was first in line to get the assignments, and always the first hand, and person he saw. To others it appeared I was the only person he saw. I personally had not noticed how much our eyes would meet during class, or how filthy his thoughts of me were.

When class began, he added to the lecture he gave yesterday. But his gaze would continuously turn to me and my sweet legs. Beneath the desk he would watch as my thighs shuffled and lifted. Deep in his mind–behind his knowledge of literature–were thoughts and fantasies of how good my little legs would look wrapped around his waist, and how my soft, pink lips would feel on his skin…

Nearing the end of the class while everyone began to pack their things, I took my time in finishing my assignment. I hadn’t been too worried about packing up before the bell as I hadn't had anywhere to be during my lunch break, nor anyone to meet up with.

When the bell did ring, kids ran from the room and crowded in the hallway. And before I was about to leave as well, Mr Murphy stopped me and called my name with a friendly smile.

“Y/N, stay for a moment.”

I paused with my bag on my shoulder and stood in front of his desk. “Oh okay” I grinned back at him and looked down into blue eyes.

My Murphy leaned back into his chair and exhaled, “How are you finding the class so far?”

“Good, good. I love writing so,” I chuckled.

He nodded, “That’s good… I’ve read some of your pieces, you are very talented.” His eyes trailed from my eyes, to my bare legs, “You have a gift.”

I blushed and my legs crossed while standing before him. “Thanks…”

His stare didn’t move from my legs as they shuffled, and as my dress slightly ran up my thighs. He nearly groaned to himself as his mind, and imagination ran into a vivid thought of me beneath him.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your writing,” His eyes snapped back to my face and he cleared his throat. “Your style… is so different. It goes against the normality of basic literature, but flows much better than the rest.” I smiled, flattered by his praise, “Incredibly unique you are. But definitely in a good way.”

“Thank you sir,” My cheeks went hot and pink, “I try.”

“You’re welcome,” His voice was gentle but firm. “You can go now.”

I nodded with my lips flattened and turned towards the door across the classroom. He stared, admiring the back of my dress and body. His sigh was heavy as he fell back into his chair, still his eyes not being able to pull away from my legs, thighs, and the little bits of my plushy bottom peeking out from underneath.

For the remainder of the day he was nothing but eager to be home, and alone. The tension from his fantasies and lust-filled thoughts soon became too hard to hide. His final lesson was spent sitting at his desk while he taught. He hadn’t dared let his secrets be revealed. Not until he could be alone.

And when he was, arriving to his house as soon as he could after that final bell, he slammed the door to his home and quickly walked up the stairs to his empty bedroom. His pants were eagerly kicked and pulled off, and his hard cock was held tightly in his hands.

Thoughts of my thighs around him, and my moans, filled his mind while he forcefully fucked his fist. He could just imagine the way my soft lips would feel wrapped around his thick cock; sucking him eagerly while on my knees.

He clutched tight and groaned as his cock rapidly twitched in his hand. With such vivid fantasies he couldn’t last more than 5 minutes. His breath came out hot and heavy making the air feel thick. He moaned deeply while his cum shot from his pulsing tip, the relief and satisfaction rushing over him from head to toe.

I on the other hand had not suspected there could be such tension between my teacher and I. I was completely clueless; naive to how he would act around me or while alone. An innocent mind as my own wouldn’t be able to comprehend such filth, and perversion that lived in Jim’s mind. And as time went on–day after day– the worse, and more obsessive he got. The sessions he had late at night became far more frequent, his phone filled with every photo of me he could find off social media, and his screen each night was soaked in his hot cum as he would finish on a photo of my ‘pretty, pretty face.’

It was an addiction he began to stop feeling guilty about. But it wasn’t just an addiction, he had fallen in love. A type of love he had never experienced, nor felt for anyone ever before. I was the one he wanted all to himself, the girl–if she loved him back– would do absolutely anything and everything for.

That next day at school while I entered his classroom, his eyes immediately darted from his computer screen to me, and my perfect legs that were hugged tightly by my thin leggings. I grinned to Mr Murphy as I came in front of both his and I’s desk.

“Good morning.” He spoke, and grinned in response to mine.

“Morning.” I set my bag down onto the floor next to my chair, and bent forward to dig for my books. I had not done it intentionally of course, but in his mind it really was.

Quickly his eyes glanced back to the kids who hadn't been paying attention at the back of the classroom, then while not being watched, he looked straight between my legs as I bent further and further to the deepest part of my bag.

Through the thin fabric he could see everything. My curvy butt and hips, and the outline of my plump pussy fully on display for him. He roughly grabbed at his pants and squeezed his cock beneath his desk. And before I were to stand back up he quickly grabbed his phone with his free hand and zoomed the camera in to take a picture. Just as he did I stood back up with my books and he was relieved to have been able to save this moment forever in his photo album.

As the class went on, in between his sentences I would notice his eyes meeting mine continuously. Like magnets being pulled closer and closer together. Again it was nothing I over thought about. I liked the attention, and thought nothing unusual about it. He would look at all his students this way, right?

But he hadn’t. No other woman, student, or being would ever be looked at the same as he looked at me. It was a look of adoration, and seduction; hidden beneath his pearly blue eyes. How truly alluring they were…

“Y/N.” He called on me.

“What?” I looked around the room, then to him.

“Tell everyone about your essay topic–and pay attention,” His gaze turned to the majority of the class. “This is what gets you a good grade on exams, and written assignments,” He pointed. “A real, intriguing paper.”

”Oh, um…” I froze while the students and Mr Murphy starred, awaiting my answer. Near the beginning of the class we were given the task to write an essay on how we believe that cruelness and discrimination can be cured within our society. Where, “I wrote about how though selfishness and tactlessness are unpleasant traits, they are what could reduce the amount of hate as people would be caring more about themselves rather than degrading and discriminating against others who are different.”

Mr Murphy shook his head and grinned to himself, “Brilliant…Different,” His tone got louder. “But new, different perspectives is what makes your study interesting. No teacher will find excellence in those who all say what they should believe, rather than what they truly believe.” He paused for a moment while his eyes scanned around the room to all the careless students. “Anyways, brilliant thought Y/N. Moving on.” He turned his back to the room and began to scribble onto the whiteboard behind him.

I was slightly embarrassed being called out in front of the class, but flattered to receive such praise from the teacher everyone called picky, and ‘hard to please.’ This class, being one I craved to do well in, and enjoyed, felt much lighter knowing I had the approval of my teacher. It made my stomach flutter.

After class, just as the bell rang, all the students ran from the classroom before Mr Murphy could say another word about. the homework assignment I hadn’t cared for so I didn’t try to escape it, or him.

Again I took my time packing and getting myself ready to go. I felt an unusual, but pulling energy between Mr Murphy and I. I could feel his eyes glaring like he was looking through me. It made me feel as if I couldn’t leave; his eyes holding me hostage. And with the classroom now being empty, the tension was stronger than ever.

Before I was about to leave, throwing my bag over my shoulder, Mr Murphy stood from his desk chair and came around his desk to me. Slowly his tall figure began to overlook me, my head rising higher the closer he got. My body felt heavy, as though it became filled with sand.

I looked up into his eyes and his large hand reached out to me. He slowly stroked my hair, and his fingers intertwined with the silky strands. My body weakened before his touch and I saw the hints of lust hiding beneath his eyes.

I hadn’t known what to say, or if I should say anything at all. But the energy between us spoke louder than any word ever could. And when his hand went from my hair to the delicate skin of my cheek.

"You're so beautiful..." He whispered, but noticed quite quickly his secret had been slipping and pulled his hand off my face. He cleared his throat and grabbed his phone off his desk, "I have a meeting to get to. See you tomorrow." I watched as he quickly walked out of the classroom, and my eyes lingered as I saw him disappear into the crowds or kids in the hall.

I didn't know what to feel besides confusion. It took me several minutes to pull my attention back into focus to leave the classroom. And when I did I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in a stall for the remainder of my lunch break.

The feelings running through my mind and body were too much to handle. I was overwhelmed with both feeling flustered and unsettled.

Jim on the other hand looked as though he was fine but on the inside while sitting at his meeting felt his blood going cold; feeling both terrified and aroused. He wasn't able, nor did he care to pay attention to what any of the other English teachers had to say.

As school ended and I was on my way home the image of Mr Murphy and I wouldn't leave my mind. It didn’t feel right, but it didn't feel wrong either. The best option I had was to ignore it; push it deep into the back of my brain.

I wish I could say it worked, but of course it had not. Both Mr Murphy and I shared the experience of not being able to get off of one another's minds. From the very moment it happened to late at night when we both lied in our bed with two completely different thoughts, and ideas of each other…

Jim lied on his back holding the phone screen close to his face. He stared intently at the picture of my plushy butt and round, beautiful looking pussy; roughly beating his cock. He groaned heavily as he imagined just how good it would feel to pound his cock deep into me. Shoving, and forcing in every inch until I stretched painfully around him. There was nothing he could ever want more, and nothing that could stop him from making me completely his. He made it his mission to get what he wanted. No matter what was to happen, I would be made all for him.

So that next day–when English was my last period–he gathered himself and patiently waited until that final bell rang and the school would be empty.

“Y/N.” He called out to me firmly as I was about to leave the classroom. I stopped just in front of the door and turned to him.

He stood by his desk, with his hands in his jean pockets; an unsettling look held deep in his eyes. “Close the door.”

I closed the door behind me slowly and my body felt cold in fear. “A-Am I in trouble?” I asked with my voice quiet and fearful.

Mr Murphy grinned and lowered his head. “No,” He looked back up to me. “Not at all.”

I felt relief wash over me and my blood returned back to my face. Still I was nervous as to why I was made to stay here, but how bad could it be if I wasn't in trouble?

“So why did you want me to stay?” I asked delicately while slowly walking towards him. His gaze lowered and softened the closer I got to him.

“I just want to be with you…” He paused, admiring me with his eyes. “Do you know how perfect you are?” He said suddenly.

I blushed; going a deep red, and my heart sank into my stomach. “N-No”

My Murphy took long steps towards me, and our bodies became just inches away from each other. His hand came down to my face, and his rough skin caressed my cheek lovingly. My eyes and legs fluttered to his touch. I couldn’t look away…

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen…” He whispered while his thumb rubbed over my lips. “No one could ever love you more than I do.”

“Really?” My eyes were big, and filled with submission looking up to him as his other hand came to my face. He didn't say anything, but lightly rubbed my soft cheeks with his thumbs. I’d been so lost in his gaze that I hadn't noticed his face coming closer to mine. Not until he pulled my face into his and kissed my lips.

I froze as he kissed me, but the more he did, the more right it began to feel. I kissed back and felt the tension rising between us. My hands ran up his neck, and his glided down my sides to my hips. He pulled me tight against his body; not leaving an inch between us.

He lifted beneath me and sat me down onto the edge of his desk. Our lips had not separated, but became more sloppy and intimate. And his hips leaned in between my legs to press tightly against me. He groaned into my lips, and I felt a hard poke against my clothed pussy.

On the inside my heart was pounding against my chest, with anxiety but also the adrenaline of need and excitement. Mr Murphy’s rough hands squeezed at my hips, and his fingers dug into the sides of my pants. He pulled me in closer to him as he eagerly jerked my pants down over my thighs, and legs.

Once he began, he couldn't stop himself. Jim’s hands caressed every inch of my bare skin that he could. It made him painfully hard, feeling just how real and soft I was.

His lips kissed down to my neck while he desperately undid his belt, pulling it from his pants. It hit the floor with a clang, along with my panties that he ripped from my legs. He then pulled his lips away from me and straightened himself. I looked up to him with submissive eyes while he quickly took his cock from his pants. My eyes glared down at him, and I felt fear run through my body. There was no way that could fit in me.

He rubbed his wet, pink tip along my sensitive, virgin pussy. I looked back up at him and he groaned at the sight. It didn't feel real at all. He needed to give himself reassurance, something to prove that it was real and not again one of his fantasies.

With one quick movement he thrusted his hips and shoved his cock deep into my small hole. I whimpered loudly and my skin stretched. Mr Murphy groaned deeply, feeling me squeezing around him and he began to pull back. He looked me in the eyes while he forcefully thrusted his thick cock into me again. I bit at my lip and moaned with both pleasure and pain.

His hands gripped onto the desk and his hips began to pound faster, and harder into my tiny pussy. My whimpering and moaning got louder as I felt such things I’ve never had before. And Jim felt as though he was gonna finish already. With the obsession he's had, and the fantasies he's created, there was no way he could last alone, so how would he while inside my real pussy.

Mr Murphy couldn't pull his eyes away from between us. He moaned at just how good it felt and how cute my pussy looked, swallowing his every inch.

“You like that?” He huffed and grabbed my face. All I could do was moan and nod. “Oh you’re such a good girl.” He thrusted harder, making my eyes widen and my lips gasp. The look on his face was feral and demanding as he beat between my legs. “Fuck….I’m gonna cum,” He panted; I grew louder with high pitched moans. The sounds of both him and I, and the slapping of his cock in my wet pussy, filled the darkening room.

Jim grabbed beneath my thighs and pulled me in tighter against him. His cock sunk deeper into me and he held my legs up, spreading them as far as they could go. I couldn’t look away from what he had been doing to me. It all happened so quickly, but felt unbelievable.

My whimpers became more desperate for him, and my eyes returned up to his. With that, as his eye met mine he groaned and shot his thick cum into my cervix. I watched him, and looked deep into his eyes while he came in me. Something about it just made me crave more.

He gasped and panted, slowly thrusting and emptying himself into my tiny hole. And when he pulled out I felt a wave of emptiness… but it soon filled as he quickly fell to his knees, forcefully spreading me to fuck me with a tongue.

My whole body shivered as I felt his wet tongue overstimulating my sensitive clit and hole. I cried out a sweet sound that rehardened his cock. He could’ve never expected me to taste such a way, and the way those blue eyes looked up to me while he licked in such delicate circles made my legs shake.

I was soft on his tongue, and so sweet. Beneath the desk and began to again forcefully beat his cock in his hand. He moaned and whimpered into my pussy, while still managing to lick profusely.

My teeth clenched down onto my bottom lip and my fingers held tightly onto the wooden desk. I was so lost with my eyes disappearing into the back of my head, I hadn’t noticed Jim cumming again and again. And for me, I could feel my body becoming overwhelmed with the intense, tight feeling both his cock and tongue had caused me. My body grew hot and my legs shook and shot up. His tongue with a great speed licked, and sucked at my clit, and thick amount of wetness spread onto his face and my inner thighs.

Those beautiful lips of his glistened with my wetness as my stomach turned and ached with pleasure. He could feel me pulse against his lips, and his tongue slowed and eased with my orgasm as it faded away.

He pulled me through it all and it had been the best thing i'd ever felt and done. And for him, he could say the same as his cock dripped and fell weak. Mr Murphy stood back to his feet and tucked himself back into his pants. He leaned into me and kissed me gently, making me taste myself on his lips. “Oh I love you,” He moaned between breathless kisses.

And what felt almost instinct, I said, “I love you too.” And grabbed his hair pulling his lips down harder against mine.

”Why don't you let me drive you home baby,” He panted and just barely took his lips from mine. “And I’ll tell you just how much I need you.”

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