#real talk this fic is a bit light on plot

[writing-is-thorapy]

A Top Gun: Maverick post-mission fic for you all!!!

[wingfleur]

# — calling mark grayson "small."

got fried as fuck and this shit came to me like a prophecy. a dream. i know i have my to-do list, but it’s hard for me to write stuff i’m no longer in the exact headspace for. like, i need to wait until i can get into it enough to feel it the way i did when i first thought of it. anyways, this is set in a universe that’s pretty canon-compliant: mark and amber broke up, but he hasn’t dropped out of college (yet) or ended up with eve. you also have no clue he’s invincible, just that he’s had a glow up and your cute, dorky friend from high school is now fine as shit. i also listened to “party favors” by leon thomas and big sean the entire time i worked on this.

lastly, i'd like to give a humongous shoutout to @omniphilic for beta-reading this monster for me! much love, sunshine, and godspeed, my children. enjoy! | wc: 7.9k words.

cw: nsfw mdni (18+), afab!reader, a lot of porn with a lot of plot, light angst, confessions, banter, friends-to-lovers, mentions of amber (i love you girl but it’s so easy to use you as a plot device </3), oral sex (f!recieving), explicit sex (p in v), missionary, squirting, dirty talk, praise, soft!dom mark, consider this my apology for the hurt/very little comfort v!card mark x reader fic <3

thinking about you joking around with mark grayson and calling him… small. you know where.

it sounds like such a silly scenario, but walk w/ me: you and mark have an… odd friendship. looking back on it, you two were an unlikelier pair than winning the lottery. you’re from completely different worlds– you were more on the straight and narrow: the academic side of things. all you did was bust your ass, and you had plenty to show for it– friends, awards, this air of recognition that followed you from classroom to classroom.

and mark? well, he fell more into the category of incredibly average. average grades, average social life, even an average reputation amongst the student body– the kind that makes you easy to remember and always gets you labeled as a “pretty cool guy,” but keeps you out of any real trouble. maybe that’s part of his charm– the fact that everything about him is initially so unassuming, so run of the mill that you don’t even think twice. not until you start to get to know him.

there’s plenty that sticks out once you get to know him.

then, somehow, at the start of your senior year, you two ended up partnered together for a project in the same upper-level english class. y’know, the college freshman one everyone takes because it’s a cheap credit, regardless of if they’re going to harvard to study law, or to the local community college to save a bit of money. neither of you had many expectations, but you and mark became fast friends. mark’s awkward charm grew on you, and he already had a decent opinion of you from seeing you around, but finally being in a situation where he could talk to you and not feel like a nuisance only made him think of you more highly than before. you were cool as shit; he has no idea how you two hadn’t spoken sooner.

but it’s no surprise that you two absolutely nailed the project. with your smarts and mark’s willingness to learn, the grade on it ended up being so good that it made you jump into mark’s arms out of pure excitement. mark caught you effortlessly, spinning you around and giggling alongside you without a second thought. the intimacy of such a reaction didn’t dawn on you two until long after he set you down, you grinning giddily in his face, while he could do nothing but grin back.

that’s how you ended up here– lying in mark’s bed, long after graduation, and visiting home from campus on a long weekend. you’re wearing one of his t-shirts and reading one of his copies of seance dog as he works on a paper. when you found out you two would be attending the same university, you were more than stoked. mark was stoked too, but he was so sure you could’ve gotten into one of chicago’s finest, or, better yet, move away from illinois entirely, rather than attend upstate university. he gave you a hesitant look when you said you were more than content with your choice, saying that a degree is a degree no matter where you went and that as long as you could be with mark, it would be worth it. deep down, though, mark swore something bloomed in his chest that day. he doesn’t really know what that feeling was– is, to be more accurate, because he still feels it sometimes– but that’s the least of his worries. 

his main worry is getting this paper in by 11:59 pm tonight. 

and just like that, the rhythmic clacking of mark’s fingers against the keyboard fills the silence and leaves you to bask in this comforting sensation of warmth. you’re so relaxed that you can’t bring yourself to move. not that you would have wanted to, anyway.

it’s peaceful. so, of course, you have to ruin it. 

“you ever want to fuck a cartoon character?” you suddenly say, the copy of seance dog in your hand and your foot crossed over your knee. you hear the way mark’s typing pauses for a moment, and imagining his reaction forces you to bite back a snicker. a pregnant silence fills the room before the typing begins again, just as rhythmic and hypnotic as before.

“i know you’re not saying that about seance dog,” mark finally quips back, his voice dripping with an absurd amount of mirth. you can hear his smile in his voice– you always can, because mark rarely doesn’t smile. it’s one of your favorite things about him.

you can’t help but take the bait.

“you think i could be?” you ask, tone scandalized and brows raised. neither of you move to face each other just yet– you don’t need to. you can tell exactly what face mark’s making from the sound of his voice, and mark can do the same for you. it’s how he knows that you’ve stopped biting back that smug smile of yours– the one that creeps across your face when you’re clearly up to something, but he doesn’t know what. you’re a troublemaker; it’s one of his favorite things about you.

“yeah,” he replies without missing a beat, “i clearly know nothing about you. i was once dumb enough to think you were intimidating.”

“i’m still intimidating!”

“yeah, maybe on occasion,” mark teases, his typing ceasing completely so that he can spin around in his chair. he leans against it with his head tossed back and his arms on the armrests, eying you gleefully as you put the comic face down on the bed. “most of the time i forget because you’re too busy saying shit that’s uncomfortably close to ‘i wanna fuck seance dog.’”

“eat shit and die, mark.”

“i don’t wanna.”

“then shut the fuck up and answer the question!”

“fine, fine!” mark laughs and lifts his hands up lazily off the chair in mock-surrender. “‘course i’ve wanted to fuck a cartoon character. who hasn’t? i’m not a nun.”

something flashes in your eyes, and you shift to lean forward towards where mark’s sitting, propping up on your elbows on the bed. you grin mischievously; it’s clear you’re up to nothing remotely good. 

“who?” you ask.

mark replies immediately. “koriand’r.”

“wha– from the titans?”

“no, from the avengers. yes, from the titans. who else would i be talking about?”

“alright, down, boy,” you say amusedly, making mark roll his eyes. “i was just checking. but you obviously can’t handle that.”

mark raises an eyebrow. “says who?”

“uhh, says me?"

the two of you are still for a moment, and you start to fear you said something wrong until you see mark’s eyes darken in that telltale way they do when he starts to feel challenged. then, as if that wasn’t enough to give you goosebumps, he does that stupid, mindless thing he does with his tongue, where he runs it along the inside of his cheek. your breath stills in your chest when mark pushes up off the back of his chair and leans forward towards where you lie on the bed, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped between his thighs. 

it’s hard to keep your gaze from dropping to the veins in his hands.

“oh yeah?” mark asks incredulously, tilting his head. you were joking about being the intimidating one earlier, but the real intimidator is mark. when he gets serious, you swear you can feel something in the air shift. maybe that’s why it feels like the hairs on the back of your neck are standing up right now.

“why not?”

the question, in its simple nature, catches you off guard, and in a brief moment of confusion, you tilt your head. “why not what?” “why couldn’t i handle her?”

you stare at mark as if he’s joking, but instead of him laughing and waving you off, mark stares back at you expectantly, brow arched and lips quirked up at the corners. it’s like he wants to smile, but he can’t. won’t. 

this dickhead must have a death wish.

“what do you mean ‘why couldn’t you handle her?’” you say casually– like what you’re saying is most obvious thing in the world. “it’s koriand’r, mark. she’d chew you up and spit you out before you even had time to undo your belt.”

you swipe up your copy of seance dog and busy yourself with trying to find where on the page you last left off. honestly, it doesn’t matter where you start reading. you’re willing to do anything to help get your mind off the weight of mark’s eyes boring into you.

“besides,” you huff, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, “koriand’r has standards, and you probably have a small dick, anyway.”

the second those words leave your mouth, the room falls deathly silent, and you swear it’s as if the air has been sucked out of the room. you fall still where you’re at, hoping that somehow, someway, you not moving will make mark want to kill you less. you really don’t know what possessed you to say that– it was a poor attempt at deflection, considering the growing amount of tension you began feeling in that room– but you don’t mean it. didn’t mean it. not one bit. 

you’re doing mental gymnastics to figure out how you can take it back without sounding like a total loser before mark starts laughing, and the joyous and boisterous sound gives you pause.

he couldn’t have found that funny… could he? 

okay, yeah, after a little bit of consideration, he very well could have. this is mark grayson, you’re talking about– not one of the insecure guys you were used to dealing with, who were more likely to blow a blood vessel than a load at the idea of being perceived as “unmanly.” mark’s the type of guy to wear one of your crop tops because he knows you’ll whine about him stretching them out, or wear a maid dress as a punishment for losing a bet, masking his embarrassment with quips about how good his legs look. you also know mark enough to know he’s not a virgin, nor is he a prude, but not well enough to know intimate details about his sex life. sure, jokes are fine, but a play-by-play on how he screwed his ex feels… invasive. beyond the scope of your shared comfort. it was just something you never thought of asking.

well, more like something you could never bring yourself to ask.

you set the comic back down on the bed just in time to watch mark wipe some tears from his eyes, twisting around to face his laptop with a smile on his face. he resumes typing like nothing happened, like you didn’t just obliterate his manhood and leave it in pieces for him to pick up off the floor. it’s hard not to gawk at him in disbelief, blinking rapidly for a few moments before speaking.

“that– didn’t upset you?” you say tentatively, voice a lot meeker than initially intended. mark huffs out a laugh and spins around, hands back to resting on the armrests.

“why would it have?” he says bemusedly, still smiling from before. “we joke like that all the time. honestly, i’m surprised you hadn’t said something like that sooner.”

you can only stare at him blankly, brows knitting in confusion as mark continues to regard you patiently. then, you sit up, pushing up off your elbows to swing around and upright, one leg dangling off the bed while the other stays bent in front of you. 

“why didn’t you get mad?”

mark pauses, eyes narrowing as he tilts his head. “...is this a trick question? why would i? you were joking around.”

“most guys would’ve gotten mad about me saying something like that.”

“yeah, well, most guys aren’t exactly confident about what they’re packing downstairs.”

“and you are?”

mark’s lips part for a second, but no words come out. he quickly shuts his mouth and stares at you, but you stare back, ignoring the way your cheeks start to burn with red-hot embarrassment. 

“well, yeah,” mark finally says, eyes flickering nervously to the side. he looks everywhere– the alarm clock on the dresser, his posters on the wall, everywhere but where you are, sitting prettily on his bed– but his eyes have no choice but to finally lock back onto yours, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek. “‘course i’m confident about it.”

“...‘cause it’s not small.”

he pauses. “yeah. ‘cause it’s not small.”

your brain short-circuits right then and there.

you aren’t sure why you’re so surprised by this. it wouldn’t have taken a rocket scientist to arrive to this conclusion. you were around when mark started dating his ex-girlfriend, amber– around long enough to have seen the exact point in their relationship where they shed the last of their inhibitions and began interacting with each other much more comfortably. you were also around long enough to watch mark come into himself– to lose that dweebish, unsure aura around him and become more confident. muscled. tall. even if he was still pretty dorky most of the time.

perhaps that’s when the thoughts started: when you started to think of mark less as a boy, and more as a man. when you began wondering things about him that you desperately wanted to know, but were much too scared to ask.

at least you have an answer to one of them now.

“hey,” mark says suddenly, voice sharp enough to cut through all your overthinking and analyses. mark’s closer to you now– right next to you, actually, the scent of his cologne filling your nose– and he has your hand in his, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back. “you okay? should i not have said that–?”

you frantically shake your head. “no–! i mean, yes– god, fuck, no, mark, it’s okay.” you take a deep breath, letting your eyes fall shut. “i’m the one who asked. you just answered.”

you take in a shaky breath and let your eyes flutter open to find mark watching you adeptly, his eyes trained on your face. the expression he’s wearing is one of worry, those dark brows of his pinched in the middle to form a wrinkle you so desperately want to smooth out with your thumb. his plush, pink lips are parted, and in an attempt not to stare at them, your eyes fall to the floor, but not before momentarily catching on how his biceps strain against his sleeves.

for fuck’s sake, this is not the time to be focusing on how attractive you find your best friend.

“i wanted to know,” you finally say, voice soft and a little frayed around the edges. your eyes flutter shut again– something to give you a bit of extra courage to say what you need to say, and not cave under the pressure of your nerves. “i wanted the answer to that question. it sounds weird as fuck, and i totally understand if you want me to leave and never show my face around here again, but i’d be lying if i said i didn’t want to know.”

you open your eyes again to find mark still staring at you, eyes jumping all over your face, while sporting an unreadable expression. you find yourself swallowing hard as you steel yourself for what you want to say next, adjusting to sit and face mark completely. “i wanna know a lot of things about you, actually. and none of them are all that appropriate for two people who are supposed to be ‘best friends.’”

it’s mark’s turn to short-circuit.

“w–what?” mark stutters out, staring at you with a dumbfounded expression as his eyebrows shoot up in suprise. his mouth falls agape, opening and closing fruitlessly as he tries to figure out what to say. “i– jesus christ, i don’t think you understand what you’re saying–”

“i know exactly what i’m saying.” your interjection is quick and firm, your expression void of your previous nervousness and now completely serious. “and you know it. don’t insult me like that again.”

mark’s protests die in his throat.

“i want to know you,” you start. “honestly. intimately. fuck, to be honest, i want to see you– naked, in my bed– but i didn’t wanna make things weird, and then you had that whole thing with amber, and then i thought you were gonna date eve, so i kinda just kept it to myself, but–”

“you can know me.” 

you freeze. “what–?”

“you can know me,” mark says again, his hand squeezing the one that he has wrapped in his. “you can know me. and see me. and i’ll answer every other question you’ve had about me, ‘cause i wanna know you too.”

you can’t help but stare at mark , absolutely and completely dumbfounded. if he notices, he doesn’t judge. doesn’t acknowledge it at all, actually. he just continues to steamroll ahead.

“god, fuck, i really wanna know you like that, too,” he sighs. “always have– like, all the way back in high school. i’d see you in the halls with your friends and think, ‘man, they’re hot,’ then move on with my life because i thought there was no way i’d ever have a chance with you. then, we got partnered up for that project, and i learned that you were so much cooler and more approachable than i had ever imagined, and i wanted to make a move on you so bad, but i still thought there was no way you could ever like me. william can testify to this– i was talking his ear off about you 24/7. still do. he is seriously getting sick of it.” 

the way mark talks is fast– so much so that all his words bleed together, voice full of excitement and sincerity. it make your eyes sting. after he finishes, his quick way of talking tapers off into a hefty bout of silence, his beautiful brown eyes flickering down to your joint hands. 

“and then came amber.”

the quiet that follows drapes over the two of you like a blanket, heavy with the weight of everything you two are thinking, but ultimately remains unsaid. the fact of the matter is that it doesn’t need to be said. you and mark just… know– understand– that amber was the first person, aside from you, to treat mark as less of an expendable, and more like somebody worth knowing. she took the opportunities you were too afraid to– penciled her name in where yours was meant to be and slipped right on into that “partner” position, wearing it as if it was custom-fitted. it may as well have been, because it sure looked good on her. 

he looked good on her. that’s why you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad.

“i never would’ve gone out with her if i knew you wanted me even half as much as i wanted you,” mark says quietly, reaching up to rub a tear from your cheek that you didn’t even know you shed. “but i didn’t. and we dated, and i slept with her, and i loved her, but i feel all of that for you too, y’know.” he cradles your face delicately as he climbs up onto his knees, his movements slow, as if moving too quickly would scare you off. moving too quickly would remind you that this is real; remind you that you probably shouldn’t be doing this, causing you to hop off the bed and run down the hall, flying down the stairs, past debbie, and out the front door.

but you don’t have to worry. never have, actually, because the way mark treats you is careful. cautious. he’s kneeling on the bed and easing you onto your back with such rapt attention that it makes your cheeks warm, head turning to the side to shield it from him before he turns your head right back to where it was.

“i want you to ask your questions,” mark says slowly, large hands pushing your knees apart to make room for him between your legs. you can’t help but stare at him helplessly, any and all words dying in your throat, but mark moves with a confidence that makes it clear you don’t need to speak. not when he’s hovering over you like this. 

“i want to answer your questions, and i want you to do the same for mine. ‘cause i’ve thought about you. a lot. and not all of it was decent. actually, most of it probably wasn’t.”

mark lets himself laugh softly at the admission, but you can only look up at him in awe, the muscles of your brows twitching from the urge to knit in confusion. mark’s eyes catch this, and he reaches down to smooth his thumb over the spot right between your eyebrows– the same way you wanted to do for him earlier.

“so tell me that this is okay.”

mark trails his fingers across your skin, skimming over your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder, and all the way down your arm until reaching your hand. he tangles your fingers together and brings your wrist to his lips, a soft kiss being pressed to your pulse, which makes your heart stutter in your chest. mark doesn’t tease you for how vulnerably you stare at him, or for how red his actions make your face. he only looks down at you with a soft smile, peppering kisses to your palm.

“holy shit, mark, this is more than okay.”

mark’s grin is blinding when you surge forward to kiss him.

the thing that surprises you most about it isn’t how good of a kisser mark is, or how nice it feels for his big hands to come up and cradle your jaw. it’s how easy all of this is– how uncomplicated it is to be making out with mark, how your lips slot together as if it’s always meant to be this way, how raw his groan is when you tangle your fingers into his hair and tug. he has you pressed against the bed in seconds, one hand slowly slipping beneath your t-shirt as the other squeezes at your outer thigh. you feel dizzy when your lips part and he ducks his head down into your neck, sucking bruises into the skin with a fervor that makes you squirm.

“i– fuck, mark, not where people can see–!”

“does it matter if it’s visible? ‘s not like you’re fucking anyone else right now besides me.”

you hit mark hard against his back, but it only makes him chuckle, sitting up to look at you with messy hair and blown pupils. “what? you haven’t slept with anybody in a while, and you’re about to sleep with me. i didn’t say anything wrong.”

“how do you even know that, asshole?”

mark grins, sitting back on his haunches as he hooks the hem of your shirt on his index finger. he tugs it up enough to reveal your stomach. “‘cause you’re lying here in my bed, wearing my shirt, with me sitting between your legs. if i was the person you’ve been fucking, i’d definitely feel some type of way about that.”

you scoff, moving one of your legs to try and kick at mark’s chest. like the little shit he is, he catches it easily and presses a kiss to your ankle, setting it on one of his shoulders. “that doesn’t mean anything. i could have casual sex if i wanted to.”

“yeah,” mark agrees, both hands coming to smooth his shirt up the expanse of your body, “you could. if you wanted to. but you don’t, ‘cause you’re not like that.”

“bullshit.”

“is not. here, open your mouth for me.”

“wh–?”

“shut up and open it for a second, would you?”

you shoot mark a withering glare, but he just grins back, pushing your shirt up under your chin and offering the hem for you to bite down on.

“thank you,” he says gleefully, his words a little too airy and sing-songy for you to let slide. you try and kick him again, but he blocks your leg without much of a second thought, eyes laser focused on the sight of your tits in front of him.

“wow, you are so fucking pretty.”

the way he says it is so full of awe– so genuine– that it makes your mouth fall open. the t-shirt in your mouth gets stuck on your bottom lip in the process, and the sight makes mark chuckle, a boyish grin settling on his face. he reaches up to adjust it and pulls it back up so you can bite down on it again.

“i didn’t even say anything crazy yet,” he teases, laughing as you do your best to swear at him from around the fabric. mark ignores it to focus on the sight in front of him instead, though, fingers tracing up your rib cage before cupping the underside of each of your breasts.

your mind goes blank when he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

“oh, fuck,” you gasp out, back arching off the bed and into his mouth. the t-shirt slips from between your teeth again, and you can feel mark grin around where his tongue swirls around your skin, popping off to look at you and chastise you softly.

“jeez, you really suck at following instructions,” mark playfully says. “and did you forget that my mom is downstairs? i’ve had her knock on the door during sex before, and trust me, it does not help to sustain the mood.”

“god, you sound like such a dork. ‘it does not help to sustain–’”

mark cuts you off with a groan, fingers curling into the waistband of your shorts and panties. “shut up and lift your hips already.”

you giggle. “fine, fine.”

you plant your feet and lift your hips off the bed enough for mark to tug your clothes off, separating your shorts from your underwear so he can tuck the garment into his pocket. You look at him with a flustered expression, mouth dropping open in bewilderment, but mark simply sticks his tongue out at you and flings your shorts to the floor, panties nowhere in sight. you hardly have enough time to process him keeping them for himself before he’s wrapping his hands around your thighs and tugging them onto his shoulders, putting him face to face with your cunt and lifting your lower back completely off the bed.

you knew mark was strong, but you never thought of him using his strength like this.

mark holds you firmly as he busies himself with eating you out like a man starved. those big, brown doe eyes of his look down at you, sometimes lingering on the rise and fall of your chest, and sometimes taking in the sight of your knitted brows and parted lips, both your hands tangled in the pillow behind your head. his eyes do fall shut every once in a while as if he’s savoring the taste of you on his tongue, and he probably is, knowing mark, but you don’t have the wherewithal to tease him. not now, at least. not when he’s got his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking in these sporadic little bursts that make your stomach burn with molten need.

“oh, f-uck,” you gasp, voice cracking on the expletive. in your defense, it’s the only word you currently feel like you know how to say, but mark doesn’t laugh or tease you for it. he just presses a messy kiss to your clit, then slides his tongue down through your folds to circle your hole, slowly and messily pressing inside of you. he pumps it in and out for a few moments, as if he’s trying to fuck you with his tongue, then flattens the muscle and drags it back up to your clit to press into it firmly. you untangle your fingers from the sheets and reach up to swat at mark’s thigh, twisting and turning frantically in his hold.

“oh my fucking god, mark, let go!” your whines are urgent, thighs beginning to quiver on either side of mark’s head. his eyes flutter open enough to look at you through his long, thick lashes, but his firm grip on your waist doesn’t let up in the slightest. his arms tighten around you, keeping your pussy to his lips and your body off the bed as he continues to ravage you like it’s the one thing he was born to do. “mark! ‘m fuckin’ serious– i’m gonna squirt if you don’t let go of m– oh, fuck!”

you realize your warning is a bit late as you feel that knot tighten and snap in your belly, but it would’ve fallen on deaf ears regardless of whether you said it earlier or not. your cunt gushes all over mark’s nose, lips, and chin, soaking the top of his t-shirt and dribbling a bit down onto the bed below. you’d think he’d have a concern of drowning, but mark’s tongue keeps moving as you cum, legs squeezing against his ears so tight that you’re sure he can hear absolutely nothing but his own heartbeat. you know you sure can’t– all you can hear is the distant sound of your own voice, and the way your breathing stutters in your chest, a series of tremors wracking your body so brutally that you’d liken them to an earthquake. 

“shit,” you gasp softly, limbs tingling once they regain sensation. you wriggle in mark’s grasp and he pulls back from your pussy with a pop!, lowering your hips down to the bed as he runs his tongue along his lower lip.

“you said you were about to squirt as if that was going to deter me,” mark says breathlessly, a soft laugh punctuating his sentence. his face is covered with your slick all over his lips and chin, the sun from the window catching on it in a way that makes it glisten. you’re embarrassed by his nonchalance, but it’s hard to be mad when mark looks this good. you did this to him– made his perfectly slicked-back hair disheveled, and soaked his lower face and chest in your cum. normally, you would reply to his quip right away, but right now, you don’t. you’re much too focused on watching how mark leans down to reach behind his head and grab at his shirt, shucking it off in one smooth motion to join your discarded shorts on the floor.

“it was supposed to,” you finally say, voice sounding just as breathless as mark’s. his lips quirk up at the corners, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. instead, he leans over you to open his bedside drawer, and you take that as an opportunity to continue. “didn’t realize i was sleeping with superfreak, over here.”

mark snorts. “i’m just a guy who prioritizes my partner’s pleasure over mine.”

“that’s a roundabout way to say you like to eat pussy. and ass. oh god, mark, you don’t eat ass, do you?”

mark wiggles his eyebrows in response, and you look at him with such a horrified expression that a giggle can’t help but escape from his chest. he shuts the bedside table with a soft thud and leans back over you with a strip of two condoms hanging from his mouth. your brows shoot up at the sight, but mark doesn’t see it. he’s much too focused on pushing his sweatpants and boxers down to his thighs, cock slapping lightly against his abs.

oh. you always knew mark looked good, but this? this is something else entirely.

“you’re staring,” mark says wryly, tearing one of the condoms from the strip, then opening up the wrapper with his teeth. you watch as he pinches the tip and rolls the condom onto himself with a level of precision that screams of practice. if you hadn’t just cum your brains out, you might’ve found yourself feeling a little bit jealous.

“‘course i am.” your reply is shameless, and it makes mark bark out a startled laugh. “you said it was big, not that you were carrying a weapon. now here you are, looking like asian adonis with my jizz on your face, rolling a condom on with the ease of a common whore. not to mention that you grabbed two of them.”

a giddy smile spreads across mark’s face in reply, but it’s not one of his usual ones: it’s bashful. it’s the kind of smile where he bites his lip to force it down, but it doesn’t work, so his bottom lip slowly unfurls from between his teeth. your ears burn bright red at the sight, but mark doesn’t comment on it. mark’s never been good at multitasking, and he’s much too focused on tossing the unopened condom to the side, then tugging you against him by your thighs.

“we don’t have to use them both,” mark says softly, the sweetness of his smile bleeding into his voice. it’s a bit jarring for him to be acting so adorably, like he’s not running his cock along the seam of your folds. the tip catches on your clit every so often, making your breath catch in the back of your throat.

“i like how that’s what you chose to comment on.” 

he shrugs. “didn’t have much else to say.”

“you’re a dog, you know that, mark?”

mark grins at you wickedly, leaning down to lick a stripe up your cheek.

“mm, yeah. ‘m guilty as charged.”

and just like that, he sinks into you, bottoming out in one smooth thrust that knocks the air from your lungs. your eyes screw shut, but you latch onto him immediately, hand shooting out in search of his. he takes it wordlessly, bringing your hand up so he can kiss your knuckles.

“you okay?” he asks tenderly, lips pressed to the back of your hand. you open your eyes, tears pricking at the corners, then nod slowly as a deep breath leaves your nose.

“yeah,” you say shakily. “just been a while. warn me next time.”

mark nods, doing his best not to get caught up on the fact that you want there to be a next time. “sure,” he answers. “sorry. here– put your legs on my shoulder.”

you lift your legs for mark to take, and he settles both of your feet on one of his shoulders like they belong there. then, he shifts forward, shuffling up so that his thighs bracket your hips, which slots him deeper into you than he has any business being.

it makes you feel crazy. you fucking love it.

once mark feels stable in his position, and any remnants of discomfort bleed from your expression, he starts rocking his hips in and out of you at a pace too quick to be languid, but too slow to be considered harsh. whatever rhythm he’s fallen into, it feels good. you’re clawing at the sheets at your sides and behind your head like a madman, that copy of seance dog he lent you long forgotten on the floor, along with everything else you two have taken off. 

“does this answer one of your questions?” mark asks lowly, eyes half-lidded and jaw tight. he’s got your legs pressed to his chest with one hand, the other splayed across your stomach to hold you in place. you can tell it’s not that simple, though; the firmness with which he presses down against your stomach is as if he’s feeling for something, and the realization makes you clench, cunt squelching lewdly around his cock inside you. “did you wonder how i fuck? if i liked it fast? or did it slow?”

in your day-to-day conversations, mark doesn’t swear all that often– at least, not compared to you– but the mouth he’s got on him in bed is a surprise that makes you flush down to your chest. you look up to see mark gazing at you with eyes that are almost black, a bright blush fanning across his freckled cheeks and nose. when he sees you struggle to answer, the gears clearly turning, but no words coming out, he grips your legs tighter and quickens the snap of his hips. mark’s lips fall open with a breathy moan as he watches the way your eyes roll back, and his abdomen clenches with the need to keep his own pleasure at bay. “c’mon, baby. tell me. tell me how you want it, ‘n’ i promise i’ll do whatever you say.”

“i– god, fuck, mark, yes, i wondered how you fucked!” your reply comes out breathy, whiny, and and rushed– a result of you making an actual effort to focus so it didn’t come out as a jumbled, inaudible mess. “i w-wondered if you’d treat me like glass, or fuck me like i had no self-respect. i don’t care what you do right now– swear t’god i don’t– ‘cause i just wanna cum. don’t fucking stop.”

mark huffs out a laugh at how desperate you sound, lips quirking up in a lopsided smile that shows off the cute little fangs he has in the corners of his mouth. he turns his head to kiss one of your ankles, then takes one to put it on the opposite side, making it so you have one leg on each of his shoulders. large, calloused hands slide down your legs and smooth over your thighs before taking your hands into each of his. you’re about to ask what he’s doing, but there’s no time for the words to come out. he’s already gripping both your wrists and tugging you forward, forcing your ass to smack against his thighs with every brutal snap of his hips.

your brain is about to melt out of your fucking ears.

“did you touch yourself?” mark’s asks breathlessly, dark eyes focused on your face. you try desperately to free your hands from his grasp, but your attempts are pathetically uncoordinated. the way his cock is rearranging your guts makes it impossibly difficult to focus. but despite your lack of success, your writhing makes mark tut at you disapprovingly, and he leans forward to keep you in place by resting a fraction of his body weight on your chest. “quit trying to run ‘n’ tell me. did you touch yourself thinking about me fucking you? imagining how it would be?”

mark leans down to lick a stripe up the side of your neck, voice dropping to a filthy, sultry whisper. “‘cause i did. thought about this all the time, what you’d feel like around me. it’s so much fuckin’ better than i imagined.”

you nod your head frantically, hands clenched into fists, and your nails dig so roughly into your palms that it’s a miracle it hasn’t drawn blood. mark isn’t completely satisfied with your response, but he takes it for what it is and releases both of your wrists in favor of grabbing onto your hips.

“if you touched yourself while thinking of me, then show me. play with it for me, hm?”

you don’t need much more coaxing than that.

your fingers fly to your clit at lightening speed, middle and ring finger rubbing in quick, tight circles that mark finds absolutely hypnotizing. your other hand comes up to palm at your breasts, pinching and tweaking at your nipples in a way that makes you whine. mark damn near growls at the sight, a string of expletives you’ve never heard from him before being let out into the ether as he doubles his efforts to fuck you into the mattress.

“open your eyes,” mark demands, his words oozing with a tone you’re very much not used to being addressed with. his voice is low, gravely, and deeply affected by the way your walls squeeze around him, and you find that you quite like having him like this: wrapped around your finger, barely hanging on, lost in everything pertaining to you. the sentiment is definitely shared, because as you force your eyes open, you feel your features pinch the way they do when you’re trying not to cry. it’s nothing bad– far from it, actually. it’s just that mark is fucking you so good that you feel like you’re losing your mind, and the pleasure is so mindboggling that it makes you wanna sob. 

“there y’go, baby,” mark sighs, “just keep lookin’ at me. i wanna see your face when you cum.”

his honest admission shoots straight through you and right to your core, pussy clenching around him tightly, your clit throbbing beneath your fingers. mark moans low and long at the feeling, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows hard.

“fuck, i like when y’do that– when you like what i say and you get all tight around me. just– keep touching yourself, pretty. look at me and let it happen.”

all you can do is nod helplessly. mark ducks down to press a kiss to your cheek, fingers pressing what will definitely be bruises tomorrow morning into the skin of your hips. his cock splits you open in a mindbending way, your fingers flicking at your clit so frantically that your hand has become nothing but a blur. 

then, the bubble bursts. your orgasm hits you like a truck, your head flying back, and the muscles in your jaw and neck pulling taut. the same goes for your legs– your knees lock up and your thighs pull tight, shaking with violent tremors as you gush again, this time, around mark’s cock. you do your best to keep your eyes open as you cum, but it’s hard. from what you can see, though, mark’s mouth drops open and his eyes flash with something bright– yellow, even– as he takes in the sight of you falling apart. whatever it is, you don’t give it much thought. your brain is much too fried to be trusting everything you see right now.

“you’re a fucking dream like this,” mark mutters, his tone oozing with awe and disbelief. dutifully, he fucks you through your second orgasm– all the squirming, pulsing, and wetness that’s stained his sheets twice in one night– and holds your unfocused gaze all throughout it before he feels you coming down and abruptly pulls out. your twitching legs drop unceremoniously to the bed, and mark swings his thighs over you to settle over your chest, fingers peeling off the condom and tossing it lamely to the side. all you can see past your wet lashes and teary eyes is mark’s fist moving in an urgent blur before he cums all over your chest, the orgasm hitting him so hard that he has to grip the headboard to stabilize himself. his super strength causes it to splinter just slightly as his legs shake, so much so that he can hardly hold himself up.

his cum paints your tits in hot, thick, pearly white strands, and mark clambers up from over you to lay down on the other side of the bed. you find it unfair, the way that he’s panting and shaking much less than you, but you don’t comment. you just stare up at the ceiling, the sound of your breathing filling the air.

“i hope that was good,” mark says earnestly, rolling lazily onto his side to look at you. you take another deep, grounding breath, then turn your head to look at him. your arm comes out too weakly to swat at his chest.

“there’s no way you just asked me that when your cum is drying on my chest.”

mark stares at you for a moment, then busts out into a fit of laughter, reaching behind his head to take the pillow so he can drop it casually onto your face. you can’t help but laugh too, arms coming up to shield yourself from the pillow, and you toss it back to mark where he catches it, then tucks it back under his head. “fuck me for trying to make sure you’re okay, i guess,” he says dramatically, rolling his eyes.

you flip over onto your stomach and bunch the pillow up under your chin, careful to ignore the wet parts of your chest as you widely grin and quip back. “i just did.”

“more like the other way around. this was me fucking you. into the mattress, might i add.” mark grins mischievously and reaches out to place his hand on your lower back, smoothing over your ass before dipping between your legs to find your folds. he trails his fingers up and down your wet and puffy slit, tongue darting out to wet his lips when he feels you shiver in reply. “but we can go again with you on top if you wanna fuck me. not like i’d ever say no to that. plus, it’d answer one of my questions.”

you’re part your lips to reply, but the sound of feet padding up the stairs, partnered with a soft call of mark’s name, makes you both freeze exactly where you’re at. you look at each other in panic, then scramble to get rid of the proof of what you two just did. mark leaps off the bed and onto his feet with impressive athleticism, tossing you your discarded copy of seance dog that you catch effortlessly with one hand. you tug your t-shirt down over your chest, ignoring the fact that there’s still cum on it you’ve hardly wiped off, and he busies himself with pulling his pants back up and slipping his t-shirt on. the fact that it’s still damp around the collar doesn’t matter– not when there’s much more incriminating evidence like his used condom on the bed, alongside the wrapper and the new one he was about to use on you again ten seconds ago.

you barely manage to get under the covers to hide your lower half by the time debbie opens the door, your shorts haphazardly kicked under the bed, and your panties in mark’s pocket. you double-check to make sure your comic isn’t upside down and open it to a random page, holding it as inconspicuously as possible, right in front of your face. mark’s hands are stuffed into his pants, the condoms and the wrapper fisted tightly in his hands.

“hey, you two,” debbie says sweetly, eyes flickering back and forth between the two of you. you swear, even if you two didn’t look suspicious as hell, debbie would still be looking at you two like she knows you did something wrong. “just came to let you know that dinner is ready. and that you two shouldn’t stay up too late tonight. i’m driving you two back to campus early, so i can get to work on time.”

mark smiles tightly. “okay, mom, thanks,” he says, pulling a hand out of his pocket to wave at her goodbye. debbie eyes him amusedly, taking in both of your disheveled appearances one more time before nodding and moving to close the door.

“oh, and mark? it’s been a long time coming, so i don’t mind if you two are having sex, as long as it’s safe and i don’t have to worry about becoming a grandma.”

the color drains from both of your faces, but debbie only laughs, a smile as sweet as her son’s spreading across her face. “but next time, if you’re gonna try and hide it, make sure the panties are tucked all the way into your pocket. i’m not judging what you’re into, but it’s kind of a dead giveaway when blue lace is halfway hanging out of your sweatpants.”

# — navigation

[ramonathinks]

matters of the heart — Nanami K.

summary: finding out your ex-boyfriend wrote a novel detailing your relationship isn’t how you expected this week to go and to make matters worse everyone on the internet now thinks your “character” is a total bitch. you decide to pay your ex a visit, but can you do that without succumbing to your natural urges? well, no!

tags: 18+(MDNI/blank blogs) slight porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), brief nipple sucking, daddy kink, creampie, i guess nanami is a bit toxic in this lol, nanami might also be a bit ooc in here

to the moaners: has this been sitting in the draft for about 3-4 months? yes! but happy birthday month, kento 😚. artwork by @/_3aem (twt); @ryomens-vixen (this was the fic I mentioned a while back) word count: 5.6k (yuck), I don't really like this

I’m going to kill him, that was the only thing on your mind once you closed out of the novel. Normally, your weekends were spent relaxing with a fruity bubble-gum colored cocktail but today was different. Shoko called your phone at exactly 9:26 am claiming it was time she divulged some news to you. At exactly 9: 28am, she sent you an online copy of a book titled, “Matters of the Heart” and told you it was nothing but a two or three hour read and then to call once you finished. 

The book had a slow start and it seemed pretty average, just any old love story. Lately, anything was getting published and it seemed that was the case here — wait, you paused your reading and sat up straight. No. Just no. Something just clicked for you which led you to completely start over from page one. 

The moment you finished, at exactly 1:01 pm, you grabbed a salmon colored low cut shirt and light washed jeans, slipped on your white shoes and hurried to get into your car. You didn’t need to call her phone because you were going to talk to her face to face; this situation warranted a real conversation. It was nothing but a 17 minute drive to Shoko’s house, so when you arrived at exactly 1:18 pm, her door was already open. “They’re bashing me, Shoko. Fucking bashing! How could he do this to me?” Were the first words that flew out of your mouth, holding your phone close to her face so that she could see the reviews. 

“Well, it’s not like anyone would know it’s you.” She yawned, handing you a cup of water – probably because of how crazy you looked – before she ushered you to a seat on the couch. A golden brown blanket was lazily thrown on the seat, which she hurried to move. You sat down and faced her with a look of what Shoko could only describe as pure sadness. She had seen you like this many times before, all because of one person. 

“You did.” You sniffled with an eye roll, you couldn’t help but feel uncertain. Reading this book only brought back more uncomfortable feelings towards the breakup and him. You thought that you were over him and the memories that the book produced made you question everything. One question remained which is: Why?

She giggled drily. “Hey, I read all his works. Pseudonym or not. He can’t hide from me. Plus, I know you both and everything that went on. I was there too, remember?” She mumbled the last part. “Maybe this was his way of coping?”

“It’s been years… and I heard he’s announced a sequel. Shoko, a SEQUEL! It’ll be released later this year.” You spoke in a shaking watery voice while she rubbed your back in an attempt of comfort. Your mind could only think of what the reactions would be to your character in the sequel… insecurities that you never knew were there flooded your mind.

“There was enough material for a sequel? I thought he covered everything…” Shoko rubbed her chin and looked deep in thought. You just stared at her, she couldn’t be serious. “Sorry, ignore me.” She shook her head ignoring your stare.

“Do I even confront him over this? A-and how would that make me look, like I still check on him right? I’ll look crazy and bitter… which apparently I am. Oh and I’m bitchy and a ‘total cunt’ as they’re putting online.” He didn’t know just how much you changed, he missed your growth. Rubbing your eyes, you ask:“Why did you tell me about this? What made you take so long… I just don’t understand.”

“Well, at first… I didn’t think you’d care.” Moving a strand of her nut-brown hair out of her face, she continued. “Then about a month ago, I decided it was right to tell you, just in case someone else pieced it together.”

“Gojo read it then, huh?” You mentally cringed at the thought. It was the only person you could think of who’d be so crude about it. He knew how damaging the breakup was for you but not as bad as Shoko knows. Now, you’re just grateful that she told you before he did.

“Yep, so I figured that I had to tell you before he did.” She clicked her tongue. “But let’s just calm down before you make any rash decisions on how to handle this.” 

“He wrote a fucking duality series about me, our relationship, our sex life and you want me to calm down? Are you listening to yourself? This is a serious matter. I am being called a bitch, a slut and more on Goodreads and multiple websites, reviews, etc. and he didn’t even have the audacity to give me a heads up. You had to call me.” You let out an unladylike snort.“Why couldn’t he stick to his mystery novels? Wasn’t he doing good at those?”

“Writer's block.” Shoko said in a singsong-like voice. “He hadn’t written a mystery book since you two broke up and then… he alerted his supporters he wanted to switch things up and then… that was that. Ladies loved it, a big hit. By the way, if you two were really fucking like that I need to se—”

“Shoko, now is not the time!” Your face felt hot all over, your mind racing. “I just can’t believe this.” You wrapped your arms around your body and squeezed, giving yourself one big squeeze. It was hard not to cry but you could feel it all in your throat. 

“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think his intentions were to make you feel bad.” She hugged you to her chest, pressing a small kiss to the crown of your head. “I think he still loves you. I mean, isn’t this book proof? After all these years, he wrote about you.” 

“I’m sure he moved on by now.” You whispered, your eyes growing tired already and the day had barely started. “I just need to lay down. I need to rest.” Your mind seemed to finally grow calm and your breathing steady, a small hiccup now in your throat but with a gulp of water, you were better.

“Just stay here. I don’t trust you to be alone right now.” Shoko’s voice drowned out as sleep overtook you, you could only feel her warmth as she held you and honestly it was all you needed at this moment, Shoko always made you feel safe and you couldn’t thank her more than enough for that right now as you slept.

You were a light sleeper, it was always something that Nanami pointed out about you. He always said how he felt like he couldn’t leave the room while you slept even if it was to use the bathroom afraid to wake you. He knew how important sleep was to you and he’d risk having a bladder infection if you got all 8 hours that you required. Nanami was sweet and caring like that. 

You didn’t think you’d break up with him ever. He was the one for you and he always made that clear. He pampered you and even after the breakup – though you didn’t need it – he left you with a check for five thousand dollars, saying it was for his half of the lease for the next few months. 

The breakup was brutal for you. You almost quit working entirely. Shoko was the only person you’d confined into and the only friend you left to check in on you especially when you didn’t want to leave the house. She brought you groceries and helped you shower until you finally were able to get up again.

Though it was hard to believe, it was Nanami who broke up with you. You thought it was a joke, a cliche little joke. 

“Baby, I’m not joking.” His voice was quiet and husky, he spoke as if he was going to cry. “I just need some time to myself. I need to figure out if this is what I want. You don’t have to wait for me, you just keep on living your life and being happy. But… I think it’s time we let this go.” 

You didn’t cry in front of him. You didn’t cry when he packed his things up. You certainly didn’t cry when he shut the door, leaving his key on the table because you knew he was joking. He had to be. But when you called him and his number was disconnected and you were blocked on any form of social media… that was when you broke down and cried. 

It happened out of nowhere. You overanalyzed every aspect of your relationship for where you went wrong. You wrote down every conversation you could remember and dissected it word by word. You watched every video and picture you had of the two of you looking for a bit of regret or anything on his face. You read every text message, looking for malice. He said he needed time to figure out if he wanted this but he always made it clear that he did and even that he was looking forward to having kids together, you two had even gone ring shopping months ago. 

You didn’t sleep and when you did, it was only for 4 hours and sometimes barely that. Your heart had an ache in it and the tears wouldn’t stop. You could only think why wasn’t I enough?

When you opened your eyes Shoko was still holding you and a small smile grew on your lips. “Thank you Shoko.” You knew if you could count on anyone, it was always going to be her. She was the one who pieced you back together and made sure that life didn’t destroy you and you couldn’t help but to be grateful. 

“Of course. ‘M going to let you spend the night here, okay? Let’s get some takeout and watch your favorite movies, how’s that sound?” She knew the way to your aching heart like the back of her hand. 

“It sounds amazing!” You stretched your arms out wide, leaning off of her and sitting up. “Should we start with Uptown Girls or Legally Blonde?” 

It took two days before you confronted him. Shoko was adamant about not giving you his address and you were tempted to get it from her phone. But luckily, you wore her down, she was probably tired of you bringing him or his book in every conversation. So now you stood there, nerves washing over you in waves.

The mahogany colored door stared at you – mocked you – and you returned the glare before you knocked on it, hard. This was just a door and you were angry at the person behind said door, not the door itself. 

It was almost like he was waiting on you because the door unlocked and opened. He even stepped aside to let you in, quiet. His straw-colored hair was parted differently and he even looked taller or broader – you couldn’t completely tell – but he looked different… seemed different. The atmosphere around him made your stomach clench and it made you mad; why did it feel like only you suffered from the breakup? Here he was – strong and tall – and you were nothing or rather the same.

“You wrote a romance erotica novel about our relationship?” It was what you practiced saying before you got out of your car – making sure your voice didn’t tremble – this time, it didn’t. 

“Well, hello to you too. Even after three and a half years, you still like to get straight to the point.” He grinned, putting a hand on your back to guide you to a seat on his couch. “I must ask, what makes you think it’s about you?” He does a slight laugh and raises his brow.

“We have the same initials, almost the same name. Are you kidding me?” You retort, folding your arms across your chest. You tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling in your chest that occurred when you heard his voice after so long, hearing him and seeing that damned smile… your nose scrunched up.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know you kept up with me… with my books…” He muttered, glancing your way, a demure look in his amber eyes. “Should I be flattered?” Almost in an instant, he turned on a slight cockiness to himself, though his body language showed his nervousness – his thigh bouncing a bit and his fingers tapping on the couch handle. A light sense of relief filled your system knowing that you weren’t the only one being affected by this.

“I don’t.” You inhaled deeply. “Shoko told me about it and then, I checked it out.” Fiddling with your fingers and even picking at your nails, that was your tell all sign of nervousness and right now you were engaging in it more than ever before. 

“I wanted to tell you or rather, to ask you. I know you got the voicemails I sent last year…and then you kept dodging my calls.” He tells you, you could feel his eyes on you – or more so your fingers… the nasty habit that he had finally got you to stop all those years ago rushing right back in an instant.

“Writing a book to trash me and our relationship… to make you look like some sort of… ugh, like you’re so amazing and I’m just shit. Yeah, that certainly got my attention.” If you were coming off bitchy or rude right there, you couldn’t care less especially when there were worse things that you could’ve said or even could’ve done at this moment. You really wanted to slap him. 

“Is that all you got out of it?” He asks with his head low, almost as if he was admitting defeat or as if he couldn’t believe you came up with something so trivial. 

“Was there anything else to get?” You counter, shifting your body towards him. Maybe it was best that you sat down and actually listened to the author and his interpretations of his work.

“How about that I love you regardless of any flaws… how about I find your stubbornness and attitude sexy and how I knew this breakup would be good for you. I was holding you back. I mean, I heard you got promoted 3 times since we broke up… I just felt like I was changing you, hindering your growth. I needed to reflect on myself and this book helped that.” He tapped his fingers against his thigh, yet another sign of his anxiousness. “Believe it or not, I still care about you. No matter what happened between us.”

“What happened? You mean when you decided to just leave? You could've told me everything you just told me and I would’ve understood better. We could’ve talked and came to a compromise. You don’t understand what you put me through after it.” You were close to tears but you straighten your posture and sniffled, it was best not to think about what happened before. “I just needed a bit of closure too, I guess that’s why I came. I just was caught off guard. You could’ve knocked on my door or something, forced me to answer… forced me to talk.”

He met your eye for the first time since you came over. “You wouldn’t have listened,” He huffs. “Didn’t I mention how stubborn you are? Plus, I meant what I said. I needed time to myself and I think we both did.”

“I guess…But Nanami, this book was too much. A letter would’ve been fine if you needed closure, don’t you think?” You see his lips quirk up a bit before he licks them, trying not to laugh it seems.

“My publisher got a hold of some of the documents where I was just going over things, writing here and there. She loved the idea… plus I’m in a contract for six books so I had to put something out soon, it had already been a year.” He told you, sitting his chin on top of his knuckles. “I honestly didn't mean to hurt you. I was writing for fun… reminiscing about us and then later down the line, I realized I was writing because I wanted you to read it, I just didn’t exactly know how to get you to since you were very adamant on avoiding me, which is understandable. But regardless, I didn’t think it’d get on the bestseller list or for the reviews to get so harsh.” He admits, reaching for your hand before his hand froze in midair and he stopped himself, choosing instead to put it behind his head.

“Is there anyway you can stop the sequel from being published then… since you got my attention after all this time?” You asked, putting your most dazzling smile on, hoping to sway him. 

“I can talk to my publisher. Everything’s in print and materials are already done… but I’ll try to see if I can stop production.” His adam’s apple bobbles when he does a harsh swallow. “Are we… okay? Do you forgive me?”

The question made you pause. He always made it hard for you to not forgive him; it took one look or a smile and a small explanation and it made it easy to fall in love with him all over again, no matter what he did… it seems. But it made you ask yourself: Were you too easy? Did you really forgive him? It was thoughts like that swirling around the corners of your mind. You wanted to forgive him, he was just writing and telling a story… but it was your story, not just his. Using this for your attention when he could’ve written about anything else, he didn’t have to. Were you just ready to forgive him because you still loved him? 

You hadn’t realized how deep in thought you were until you felt the couch dip and even then, your mind was still spirling.“You don’t have to…” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, his body so close to yours that it was getting hard to breathe. He still smelled the same; citrus and woodsy and it was easy to get yourself sucked back in. 

“So you can write another book about my stubbornness?” You give a quiet giggle, scooting a bit away from him, seeing him frown from the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to fall back but he made it all so simple. It was easy and you were already falling back on him and you didn’t need that… Did you?

“Baby…” Your body buzzed and hummed, turning to him with wide eyes. “I’ll do anything I can to make this right. Anything for you to forgive me… If they can’t stop publication, what can I do to make us right?” He was doing more than a gaze, he was full on staring and from how close he was it was hard to avoid. 

“Nanami I–” You stopped yourself. You couldn’t really think of anything he could do but you could think of several unhealthy things you could do to ruin your progress on going over him. He had betrayed you and made you a laughing stock so why are you stuck thinking about forgiveness when you should be leaving.

“I never stopped loving you.” His fingers traced up and down your pants but his eyes stayed on yours. “I never thought about anyone but you… I never slept with anyone… it’s always been you. But, I understand what I put you through and I’ll apologize every second until you forgive me…” The blond man who you never saw shed a tear looked more than close to it. “But just please… forgive me.”

“I’m sorry, honest.” He tries again after being met with absolute silence. “Just… let me show you, okay?” His breath tickles your face for a second and when you look into his cocoa brown eyes, you feel everything you once felt again.

Memories of good times dulls out the odd feelings in the pit of your stomach – the confusion and pain – instead are replaced with joy. The trip to Malaysia where he rubbed sunscreen on your entire body and laid back to read a book and you watched as his eyes kept drifting to you while you played in the cerulean water; how you kept begging him to come in until he complied and how eventually in the early hours of the morning when you wanted another dip, he fucked you twice — once in the golden lush sand and another in the cool ocean water. 

His face is in your thighs and you couldn’t help but feel better, feeling his breath fanning so close to your pants covered pussy, your body felt scorching hot. He’s grumbling, “Will you let me make it up to you? Will you let me show you how sorry I am?” 

You must’ve nodded because he was already unbuttoning your pants and helping you lay back, pulling your shirt up just a bit to see your perky tits – he must’ve remembered how you never wore bras unless you felt it was necessary, which was mainly work or any important events. 

He blew a bit on your hardening nipples before he took one into his mouth – playing biting them with a smug look on his face before he began licking around your areolas and kissing around the swells of your breast. He doesn’t say anything but he looks deep in thought as he kisses down your body, his fingers scraping down your sides as he works your pants and your panties all the way down. Bringing his head up for a minute, he looks in your face. “I love you.” He says it simply, heavy emotions swirling in his brown eyes.

Removing your pants and underwear completely from your body, he spreads your thighs and looks over your body – a trimmed low pretty bush sits between your thighs and it makes him smile, he always loved seeing the curled hair on your delicate lower lips. He spreads your pussy, watching the skin stretch with a deep smile on his face. You could feel yourself … the wetness leaking down under your body and it made you cringe, but the way he was staring at you made the insecurities vanish. “All this for me?” He takes a tentative lick before he slurps, clutching your hips. “I know you like to run… but I need you to stay put, got it?” It was hard for you to listen to him, your head already fuzzy and the thoughts swirling around were only about him, nothing more. 

Then your body bucks up, “Wait–!” A broken moan escapes your mouth when he presses a soft wet kiss to your clit. Nanami had always been gentle and very careful whenever he ate you out; making sure his tongue was wet enough and that he wasn’t too rough. His tongue was wide enough to make your back arch, your body leaving the couch when it finally hit your clit and he gave you no time to recover before he peeled back the hood, sitting the tip of his tongue there and rapidly flicked at the bud. 

Hearing the lewd squelching noises coming from the mixture of your cunt and his mouth made you close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly. He spits before he licks it up and down your aching slit, nudging his tongue inside only slightly, much to your dismay. You’re gasping every second when more of his tongue slips in and out of your pussy; sliding a bit more each time and it makes your thighs shake. When he finally slips his entire tongue inside of you, curling it just enough that you can feel it everywhere, your legs attempt to close up around his head. “Please– ‘m so… soo–oh…” His fingers join in on the fun and in small sloppy circles he rubs your clit, pressing down on the pearl while his tongue continues flicking inside of you. The split second that you open your eyes, his are already on yours and it was that moment, that made your body tense up and for you to cum. 

It happens fast, clear sticky wetness leaks out of you and Nanami still tries to get more of it on his tongue, catching anything that drips and sucking on your folds. “Always so fucking good…” He mutters, spreading you again and smearing more of your slick on his face by shaking his head between your thighs, so that he’s completely covered in you. 

When he moves his head, embarrassment comes over you, looking at his wet face… even his forehead was wet and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby but… I’ll be right back, stay wet for me.”

Your heart hammers against your chest, lying there on this now wet couch. You didn’t come over here for this and yet here you are… about to get fucked and really, it was no turning back now. You’d been on dates with men after Nanami but they never lasted past the second date and you certainly hadn’t had sex in a while, but he made you come apart like it was nothing.  

But then again, Nanami knew your body… so of course this was a walk in the park for him. It honestly annoyed you right now, you couldn’t even make yourself cum half the time especially these last few years and now, barely an hour here and he has you right where he wanted you… bare and practically back in love with him.

Nanami came back with a fresh face and unbuttoned pants that he was currently pulling down. You clenched around nothing, your mind thinking only of the perfect dick that was going to be coming out of those pants. You licked your lips, this would be the first dick you saw in years and it was his. 

His drooling cock slapped his stomach and you swallowed, your mouth felt unreasonably dry. The length of his cock always impressed you, standing tall at seven and a half inches, he shakes with laughter which snaps you out of your daze. “Now let me look at you.” His whispers and even though he already saw you, both years ago and right now, you can’t help but feel hot all over again. He’s staring – drawing his eyes down every inch of your body –  focusing on your breast before getting to the stare of the show yet again. He smirks, laying you back down, pressing his body against yours to kiss you. 

Your breath was caught in your throat, his tongue still tasted of you and his hands cups your jaw. He’s gentle, his tongue moving around your mouth messily before he stops, saliva breaking apart when he does so. His fingers make a ghostly featherlight touch on your clit that makes you jump, the head of his cock at your entrance. He holds out his hand, close to your mouth. “Spit.” Gathering up some, you spit in the palm of his hand and stroke it along his length, huffing at the sensation. 

He pushes in, taking his time to work himself inside of you, a strained expression on his face. Hips pulled back, he focuses more on just the tip of himself fucking you, watching your pussy stretch with just the tiniest bit of resistance. Inching himself inside, you watch his torso flex and he groans, obscene noises plop and plap around the apartment, his heavy cock pushing in and out of you, your toes curling. 

“Pussy still mines, right? Didn’t give it away, did you?” You’re struggling to talk - to fucking breathe - your eyes rolling back and your jaw slacked but you babble out a soft ‘no’ which makes him finally thrust in you harder, completely bottoming out. You feel him in your belly, feeling full and embarrassingly wide with him stretching you out, his balls sitting on the crest of your ass before he moves. 

He moves you a bit, your bodies flush to each other and he moves his hips in harsh circles, his pelvis so close to your clit. His hands on your calves, he pushes your legs so that they rest on his shoulders, your knees touching your ears makes you tighten up and he groans above you.

“Nanami I-” You call out, eyes closed with pleasure shaking through your core, wetness slapping between the both of you. 

“Nanami? No, call me what you used to call me.” His hips slowed down, a whine escaping your lips. His cock dragging inside of your walls, pulling out slowly, awaiting your response. 

“Please…don’t slow down, Ken—” before the word even left your lips, his hand slapped your cunt, leaving your legs shaking a bit and your eyes snapping open. Drops of tears run down your cheeks and you sniffle, reaching for him… you couldn’t help but feel so small in his presence.

“Say it.” Then, you knew what he meant. A name that now feels foreign in your brain and even when it leaves your mouth, it comes out in a strange rattled whimper.

“Oh, oh… daddy, ‘m sorry. Please, keep fucking me. It’s so goooood!” He’s grinning before the words leave your mouth.

“Still my good girl huh? Always so fucking good for daddy.” He licks up your neck and it makes you tremble, your tongue lolling out a bit and he moves to suckle on it. “Did you skip over all those sex scenes or did you rub this pussy out to them?” He asks, his fingers digging in the back of your thighs. 

You choked out, sobbing, “I did, daddy… But I-I don’t want to remember everything.” 

“You don’t remember all the words I used to describe this cunt? This pretty pussy? That changed his life… my life? That made him always crawl back? That made him so fucking hard? The pretty words I used to describe you? To describe how pretty she always looked when he fucked her? How his heart felt like it was going to explode when she looked at him too long because he loved her so damn much?” He’s groaning in your ear, thrusting into you, his depth reaching your g-spot, your pussy spasming and begging for his cum at every word he uttered. 

Pumping himself inside, you could see the white creaminess that was on his cock, most likely because of you, he was constantly fucking the cream inside of you, your nails digged into his arms and he moaned at the feeling. Your stomach tightens and you move to push him away, “I’m going to c–cum!” You felt him throbbing inside of you, signaling that he was close too. “Please, cum inside of me… I can’t take it.” You couldn’t stand it any longer, it’s been years and you needed him to fill you up. He stopped for a moment, changing positions so that you’ll be sitting on his lap, grabbing your hips and forcibly bouncing you on his dick, dangerously slow. 

Wetness gushes on him as his tip hits you from a new angle, seeing the outline of him in your tummy, he’s stretching you again with each nasty thrust. Each drag of his cock making you go crazy and the aching between your legs continue, your body shaking and both of you moaning loudly and over each other. 

Finally, your orgasm rattled and shook your entire body, your pussy sucking him in, milking him for all he’s worth and it makes his body shake and he releases inside of you, trying to stay quiet as his body jerks up, unable to stop himself from fucking you through both of your orgasms.

It’s quiet for a while, just heavy breathing with you laying on his chest. “I love you too…” Your voice is scratchy and your face tear stained. He doesn’t say anything, his cock still pulsing inside of you.

“I know. I love you too, never stopped.” 

“Did you at least read the acknowledgements or did you just dive right in?”

“I never read the acknowledgements for books, thought you would’ve remembered that.” You watch him get up, walking around the living room, looking for something. You were both still naked and the entire room smelled of sex. 

“I did remember that and when you barged in my door, I already knew that you still hadn’t changed when it came to that. Here, read this part right here.” He brings you over a copy and you run your fingers around the softback cover with a small smile on your face; this silly thing had brought you both back together and right now you could give less than a fuck about those reviews. 

Feeling the spine of the book, you open it and can practically smell the scent of an unopened new book. Turning the first few pages, you go to the one page acknowledgment and read it aloud: “She might not read this book. But if she does, by chance. I hope she knows that I still love her.” You wiped your eyes and smiled. “You’re an asshole, you know?”

He lets out a hearty laugh, “I know baby.” Kissing the top of your head, he gets up and grabs his phone from the kitchen counter and you follow him. “I think I have enough material to write a third book now.” He grabs his phone and starts typing, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was deep in thought. Attempting to grab his phone he chuckles and uses his height to his advantage by standing taller.

Standing on the tips of your toes you snort, “Don’t even joke about that!” But a smile takes over your face and he can’t help but smile too. 

[pearlessance]

Killshot, Baby! —part one

summary: nanami kento is a meticulous man; calm, stable, and precise. a perfect antithesis to your messy, impulsive ways. the longer you're around him, the more you're convinced you'll never agree on anything. well…except for the way you fuck.

pairing: brat tamer!nanami x fem!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, 10 year age gap (reader is 18, nanami is 28), fingering, dirty talk, pussy pronouns, use of 'little girl' as a pet name, cum eating, semi-public, praise, size kink, hair pulling, brat taming, reader has added backstory to progress the plot

wc: 3.8k

note: this is my first ever jjk fic pls be niceee :') not sure how many parts this will be, rn I'm thinking like 5-8 but we will see!! heavily influenced by the song killshot by magdalena bay!! tysm for reading i love u <3

[masterlist] [read on AO3!]

Places like this make your skin crawl. 

Even knowing you need to assimilate yourself to the glitz and glamour of it all, you just can’t shake the turning of your stomach as you watch drops of top-shelf liquor spill over the rims of glass tumblers. Liquid splashes that cost more than a day’s pay for someone less well-off than every person in that room.

When you step out onto the balcony, the air feels icy against your too-warm skin. The city lights twinkle in the distance, disturbing the black of night and shining too brightly to grant you the luxury of seeing the stars.

You wonder what time it is, wonder if curfew still applies for an event like this. And if it does, you’ll surely catch a reprimanding from Yaga in the morning even if Gojo takes the brunt of it. Maki’s incessant questioning that’s sure to come when you step back into the dormitories might be an even worse fate, though. 

“It gets to be a bit overwhelming, doesn’t it?” His smooth voice startles you.

Overwhelming is a cordial way of putting it, you think. “Suffocating might be a better word.” 

He huffs. Not quite a laugh, but a sound of agreement nonetheless. The shadows in the dark corner of the balcony keep you from getting a good look at him. You can only make out a handful of features—a few strands of blonde hair that have gone rogue from the combed, slicked-back style, falling rebelliously in front of his warm eyes. The tan slacks he wears look expensive and pressed, a stark contrast to the wrinkles in his white button-up. The sleeves are rolled casually to his elbows, and the moonlight reflects off the crystal face of his watch. 

There’s something about him that feels…familiar. A strange sort of sameness. And despite the way he exudes the same lavish energy that everyone else at the party does, you can’t help but feel like he’s somehow different than they are. Maybe it’s because you’re seemingly the only two who are struggling to find enjoyment in the reception.

“That bad, hm?” He stands from his seat in the corner and joins you at the railing. Even bent over with his forearms on the stainless steel edge he looms over you; a powerful, menacing presence. A man with an iron grip on control. “Which part, exactly, feels so asphyxiating?”

His voice sends a shiver down your spine. But maybe it’s just the chill in the air. “All of it,” you admit. “The gluttony. The carelessness. Everyone is so out of touch with reality. It’s like they become so absorbed with all the extravagance, they forget most people struggle to make ends meet. Ten minutes out of the city a mother is working eighty hours a week and still having difficulty feeding her children, and they’re drinking bottles of whiskey that cost more than she gets paid in a month.”

Your gaze focuses on his long fingers as he interlocks them together. “You don’t think those with money deserve to enjoy it?”

When you roll your eyes it feels involuntary, like second nature. “There’s a difference between enjoying it and flaunting it. I’ve never met Nanami Kento, but he seems like a real asshole.”

This time he does laugh. And the smile that stretches across his face, revealing a row of perfectly straight, pearly white teeth, is nothing short of debilitating. He’s beautiful, achingly so. And the deep, baritone sound of his laughter stirs something strange and warm in your chest.

You continue, asking, “How much do you think it cost him to host something like this? I mean, all together. The drinks, the food, the pay for the waiters, all of it. Even that ridiculous fucking ice sculpture.” He’s still grinning, and as you animatedly speak you can feel the heavy weight of his stare on the side of your face. It makes your cheeks burn. “My guess? Two million yen. Easily.”

“That seems a bit much,” he says. “It’s not that extravagant, is it? It’s being hosted in his home, after all.”

“Yeah, his penthouse,” you say with disdain. “What’s your guess, then? How much do you think was spent on this asshole’s little soiree?”

He seems to contemplate for several seconds, turning his head to the view of the city. His profile is breathtaking; all chiseled jaw and Greek nose and lush lips. You have to fight the urge to reach out and touch him, to feel the barely-there stubble along his cheek beneath your fingers. “One and half million,” he says.

This time you’re the one who laughs. It’s the first time you’ve done so all night, despite being promised otherwise. “As if that’s any better,” you say. “If he donated even half of what he spent to host a party like this, it could change someone’s life.” 

“I suppose that’s true. But maybe you’re wrong about the reason he’s gone to such extremes. Maybe it’s less about flaunting it and more about filling his home with people. Giving them an excuse to come here.”

“Why would anyone want this many people in their home? Making a mess, pouring their money down the drain? It’s not like this kind of luxury comes easily. He might be an asshole but he’s certainly a hard-working one. Why blow it on something as insignificant as a party?”

His answer comes quickly. “Loneliness.”

He says it with such conviction it’s as if he’s speaking from experience. And you suppose he very well could be. Standing in that crowd, not knowing a single soul apart from the one who’d dragged you here and promptly abandoned you, speaking empty words to people who won’t remember your name tomorrow—it had made you feel lonely, too. Lonely enough to step outside, to find comfort in the quiet as the beautiful man beside you had. “Maybe he should get himself a girlfriend,” you suggest.

“Maybe he should.” The lightheartedness returns to the conversation the second he smiles at you. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“That’s because I never gave it to you.” Your teasing seems to please him. 

His stare is intense, flickering between your eyes and the clear gloss on your lips. You want him to lean in and taste the cherry flavor. “What should I call you, then?”

You shrug, turning to face him fully, leaning against the balcony’s steel railing. It brings you just a little closer to him. Close enough to inhale the woodsy scent of his cologne. It makes you feel dizzy, makes you feel drunk. You say, “Whatever you want.” And mean it.

This is dangerous, you know. Standing out here alone with an older man, a stranger to you. Away from any semblance of safety. He could do anything to you right now and you’d have no way of fighting him off. He’s too big, too strong. And the worst part, you think, is that you’d just let it happen. That you wouldn’t even mind.

He reaches out and touches your cheek—a gentle, respectful caress. Despite the innocence, it leaves nothing but sinful thoughts swirling in your head. You lean into his touch, trying to ignore the way goosebumps rise over your skin.

“You’re a strange little girl,” he mutters. His voice slides through your center, sultry and captivating. You’re not sure if he’s complimenting you or not. It feels kind. Affectionate, even. But you can’t fully decide because your brain begins to short-circuit, hung up on the way the words little girl sounds in his tantalizing mouth. 

“Strange is better than boring,” you tell him. 

“You could never be boring.” There’s that conviction again. So sure of himself. Confident, steadfast, and solid. You wonder silently what that must be like.

Since learning you housed a rare ability to use cursed energy, there hasn’t been a single moment where you’re sure of who you are. But…right now, feeling the heat radiate off his skin, you think maybe you know what you want. “You don’t know me.”

“I want to, though.” The response is quick. Final. He presses his palm flat against your jaw, cradling your face, and slides it slowly to the nape of your neck. The friction feels intense. Heightened.

Your breath comes slow and labored, a conscious effort now. And you figure if he can touch you, that you can touch him back. But it’s less for enjoyment and more for necessity as you place a hand against his chest, feeling the softness of his cotton button-up beneath your palm. The way he looks at you makes your knees tremble. And he’s the solid, magnetic force you need to keep yourself upright.

“Pretty dress,” he says. It’s revealing, more so than you’d realized in the dressing room. Low cut and shimmery and pale pink—your favorite color. His warm eyes pierce yours as his free hand comes to your hip, resting against the textured sequins. “Expensive. Indulgent.”

He’s trying to call your bluff, you know. But your dislike for over extravagance is sincere and though he’s shaken your once calm equilibrium, it satisfies you to know he’ll never dissuade you in this singular thing. “I didn’t buy it.”

“No?” He fists the fabric, pulling the already too-short edge up higher. “Who did, then? Your boyfriend?”

My teacher. You don’t have the nerve to say it, though. Don’t have the words, patience, or breath to explain that Gojo gave you his shiny black card and insisted you find something worthy of tonight’s event. You find evasion an easier line of conversation. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He fists more of the fabric, hiking it higher—inch by devastating inch. The air is cool against your exposed thigh, but it’s hard to notice. You can’t see or hear or feel anything but the way his deft fingertips stroke the lace edge of your panties, a teasing caress. “How…fortunate.”

Your pulse rings in your ears. Warmth builds between your thighs with the promise of his touch that seems to be all-knowing and omnipresent. He presses into the softness just beneath your navel and you can feel the pressure down to your toes. His presence is somehow even more smothering than the energy inside, but this is…different. Hot.

Every nerve ending in your body flares on edge when he slides his hand between your legs, the pad of his middle finger ghosting over your center. Your lips part and your eyelids flutter closed. Separated by only a thin layer of lace, you can feel the heat of him and have to fight the urge to rock your hips against his hand.  When he speaks, the words come out strained. “I need to know that you want this.”

There’s never been anything you’ve wanted more, you think. And you decide to tell him, to let the honesty bleed through, but then he’s moving his hand again, caressing your pussy with deft fingers. He does it with intention—a meticulous discovery of your body, preserving it forever in memory. It's such an intimate touch that it leaves you feeling open, chafed raw. All you can manage is a meek but resolute nod of your head in answer.

But it’s not enough for him. With such decorum, he says, “Use your words, sweetheart. Please.” It’s so polite it makes you ache.

You have to crane your neck just a little to look him right in the eye, but you do it anyway because you want him to see the truth. Want him to see just how bad you mean it when you say, “I want you.”

The corners of his lips turn up into a sinful smirk. And before you have time to catch your breath, before you can process just how unbearably handsome he looks with the city lights reflected in his honeyed hair, he’s slipping his hand into your panties and finding out for himself just how bad you want him. 

He separates your folds and finds your clit with expert precision, already wet and messy for him. Everywhere, all at once—he’s everywhere. His other hand rests firmly on the back of your neck, his body pressing against yours. He’s all you can see, all you can smell, all you can taste. The moment he begins circling the throbbing bud your spine arches, pleasure filling you with each calculated movement. “Oh, god.”

You spread your legs further for him, allowing even more access. The steel of his silver watch is biting cold against the too-warm inside of your thighs, the only sensation keeping you tethered to the Earth.

But any attempted salvation is shattered to pieces the moment he presses a finger into you, curling upwards as if he has known your body for far longer than just the night. “Fuck—”

“Language,” he quickly chastises. He slides his hand on the back of your neck into your hair and pulls, forcing you to stare up at him. It is so nearly like punishment, except he adds another finger inside you to join the first which feels much closer to a reward. The stretch is bliss, and you can feel your slick dripping down his thick knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. And you’re not even sure why, but an apology just feels right. Feels good. But not as good as it feels when he presses hard against that soft spot inside you, quickly finding a rhythm that has sweat beading at your hairline. “I’m sorry,” you say again, because all other words have vacated your brain. 

He quickens the pace, fingers drawing out obscene moans from your chest. You wish he would kiss you. You want to feel the pressure of his lips against yours, want to taste the inside of his mouth. But you can’t bring yourself to ask for it, can’t bring yourself to do anything but watch him watch you. 

There’s this look in his eye that makes your heart stutter in your chest. Like he holds something more than divine in his hands. As if you’re not just some girl at a party but some god-like creature instead. You feel warm under his intensity. Burned. 

And when he speaks, his voice is so sultry and deep that you whimper. “S’that feel good? Right there?”

“Yes, yes—please, don’t stop.” You don’t even recognize your own voice. Can barely hear the way you beg for him over the ringing in your ears, permeated only by the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you.

It’s rehearsed. Practiced. It takes just seconds before you start to feel yourself pull tight, straining against the unforgiving pace he sets. You're a gasping, desperate mess, and he seems to find such joy in it. Grinning down at you, forearm flexing in exertion, veins protruding from his wrist. He curls his fingers inside of you and positions his thumb so that it passes over your throbbing clit with each stroke. “You’re so pretty,” he says. “Do you know how pretty you are, little girl?”

“I—God—I’m gonna cum, I—”

“Yeah,” he coos, tone affectionate and tender. “I know it. Can feel this sweet pussy squeezing me so tight. She needs it bad, doesn't she? Hm?”

He thrusts his fingers into you hard—once, twice, and then your thighs begin to shake. Your fists tighten, knuckles paling as you grip the soft fabric of his button-up. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs and then it’s all happening at once, pleasure exploding beneath your skin.

You bite back your moans, trying not to think about the throng of the party just inside. Your entire body vibrates beneath his unyielding movements, slick walls squeezing and pulsing around his thick fingers. You don’t tell him but it’s like he just knows. “There you go,” he whispers, pressing his lips into your hair. “That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it. You’re doing so well. Let it happen, jus’ let it happen.”

Earth-shattering. Liquid pools in the palm of his hand and trickles down the inside of your thighs, soaking through the lace fabric, but he keeps you upright on trembling legs. Fucks you through it with those magical fingers of his, and doesn’t stop until tears prick the corners of your eyes. He slows, massaging that sacred spot inside of you just a few times more before slowly sliding his fingers out. When he holds them up between you, shiny and glistening with your slick, you can’t fight off the way your cheeks burn. 

It isn’t until this precise moment that you realize he’s breathing hard, the only chink in his armor of composure thus far. In all your life, in all your experience, it’s never felt quite like that.

Yet still, even more satiated than you’ve ever been, you feel your clit throb as he presses his middle and ring finger into his mouth and sucks them clean. “I…” You what?

Words evade you. You want to tell him how good it was, want to get on your knees and repay the favor, want to tell him your name. But his stare is intense and intimidating and—

The balcony door slides open and you both move quickly—stepping away from each other, smoothing the wrinkles out of your clothes.

Your heart races behind your sternum as Gojo steps out, all-black suit pristine save for the unbuttoned coat. “Nanami! I was just coming to find you to introduce you to our very special student, but it seems you’ve found her all on your own.”

Nanami?

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him wipe the hand that was inside you seconds ago on the back of his slacks. “Satoru,” he greets cooly.

Suddenly the balcony feels more suffocating than the unruly party inside. For a single second, the thought crosses your mind that you could jump right off the edge of the railing without a moment’s regret.

Gojo shoves his hands into his pockets and speaks with an airy tone, but you can’t hear him over the ringing in your ears.

Kento Nanami. 

The reason you’re here. The man who’d invited you. The man who’s hosting this party.  

Every second that’s passed since you stepped foot onto the balcony flashes through your brain. All the terrible things you’d said about him, every word of agreement he’d uttered back. Every signal, every sign he’d given you to shut the fuck up, and somehow you’d missed every single one and just kept on talking.

Guilt slithers down your spine, settles in your gut, and makes a home inside. You’d meant it, though. Every single word you’d said. But you’d never meant to say it to him, had never intended to be cruel. 

And then you proceeded to let him touch you without an ounce of resistance.

A grade one sorcerer, someone you should be learning from, someone you should revere…and you’d let him stuff you with his fingers before even knowing his fucking name. Begged him for it, even.

He’d licked them clean.

Gojo says your name, pulling you out of your head and back into the conversation. “Are you alright? You seem a bit…out of it.”

“Fine,” you answer too quickly for it to sound convincing. “I’m fine, sorry. It’s just…late. What did you say?” You try to ignore the sticky feeling between your thighs to no avail. 

“We’re going to head back now,” Gojo repeats. “If we stay much later I worry Ijichi might send out a search party for us.”

You’ve never been more ready to leave than you are right this second. You turn to Nanami and nod politely. “It was…uhm. Nice to meet you, sir.”

There’s nothing else to say, so you don’t. Pushing past Gojo and back inside, you weave your way through the moving crowd of people, trying to find the front door. It takes longer than you anticipated, but once you’re walking down the long penthouse hallway to the all-glass elevator you start to feel your shoulders dropping. 

You recognize the pattern of Gojo’s long strides easily, and he catches up to you just as the elevator doors slide open.

Ever the gossip, he’s making insinuations as soon the two of you step inside and begin the timely descent. “That was the most awkward thing I’ve ever witnessed. What the hell happened between you two?”

“Nothing.”

“Right…” 

“I mean it,” you insist. Because you might be older than the other students and Jujutsu High, but the last thing you’d ever want to do is put Nanami in a position to be ridiculed. He didn’t know. And you didn’t, either. “Nothing happened.”

“Oh, okay,” he says, voice holding a sarcastic edge. “Nothing happened. That’s why you had this look on your face like you were trying really hard to make yourself spontaneously combust. Right, right. Sounds like nothing.”

“Sounds like nothing because it was nothing.”

He sighs dramatically, turning to fully face you. “I can keep a secret. You know that. Just tell me now and we never have to talk about it again, I swear.”

You stand stone still, lips sealed firmly shut.

Gojo presses his hands together and juts out his bottom lip, and you wonder how the fuck you’d ended up here. Watching your mentor—a grown man—pout like a child for a scrap of information. 

With a roll of your eyes, you say, “We can stop at that mochi place tonight if you never speak of it again.”

“Deal.”

He stays true to his word, and you stay true to yours. 

When Gojo told you all about it on the way to the party, you’d thought he’d been exaggerating the decadence of the treat, but it truly was the best you’d ever had. You return to the dormitories with kinako dusted fingers, and Gojo doesn’t ask about Nanami again. 

You think, hope, that it’s the end of it. Hope that when you inevitably cross paths with Kento Nanami again, you’ll be able to act professionally. You’ll put this calamity behind you, never to be repeated, and absorb the knowledge he can provide about wielding cursed energy like a blade.

But when you wake up the following morning, Maki’s pounding on your bedroom door, holding a bouquet of white flowers in a pale pink crystalline vase. There’s a white, lace ribbon tied around the center of it with a hand-written note attached. The penmanship is meticulous. Precise. 

It reads, Thank you for the perspective. Apologies for the overindulgence. -K.

Maki’s brows are raised and her eyes are wide. She pushes you back into your room and seals you both inside. “Talk.”

taglist; @maybe-a-bi-witch @zeunys @mima0127 @unicornflutter

[taurasiluvr]

how you can help palestine

★ req. "(paige x reader) you should play around with protective/ possessive/ jealous reader bc it’s always paige (not specifying ur fics, just in general) being protective/ possessive/ jealous and I need a switch uppp 😝 other than that I have no plot ideas but u always come through with ur fics 🎀🎀"

 ⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, mdni. mean!paige, not too rough though, semi-public sex (in a private bathroom), fingering, teasing, praise.

 ⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 2.6k

you sat at the bar, your lips curved into a frown as you sipped on your fruity drink. paige had brought you to the bar to watch a game and had been paying no attention to you whatsoever. you'd left her side an hour ago and you hadn't heard from her since ─ she was probably chatting with a group of friends by the pool tables, completely absorbed in the game and the lively conversation.

you sighed, feeling a mixture of annoyance and loneliness. the bar was buzzing with energy, laughter, and the clinking of glasses, but it all felt hollow without her attention.

you glanced back to try and find where your girlfriend was, only to find her talking to unfamiliar girl. your eyebrows twisted as you sipped on the drink, trying to figure who paige was talking to. the girl was leaning in close, laughing at something paige had said. a pang of jealousy hit you, and you couldn't help but wonder if paige even realized how much she was ignoring you.

you tried to shake off the feeling, but it lingered like a stubborn cloud. the bar's lively atmosphere seemed to mock your mood. uou watched as paige and the girl continued their animated conversation, their smiles and laughter only intensifying your frustration.

you sighed. fuck it, you thought to yourself. deciding you just couldn't sit there any longer, you finished your drink and stood up, making your way toward them. as you approached, paige didn't even notice you.

you laced an arm around hers, giving the girl a condensing smile. "who's this, baby?"

paige finally turned to you, an awkward smile on her lips. "hey," she said, clearly caught off guard. "this is liz, an old friend from high school. liz, this is my girlfriend."

liz smiled politely, though you could sense a bit of tension. "nice to meet you," she said, extending a hand.

you shook her hand, your grip a bit firmer than necessary. "nice to meet you too," you replied, trying to keep your tone light but unable to fully mask your irritation.

paige cleared her throat, sensing the awkwardness. "we were just catching up, watching the game."

"fun, aren't you the little multitasker, paige." you finally met paige's eyes, and they lacked their usual softness her gaze carried. oh, she was pissed ─ but so were you.

"yeah," she let out as she continued to glare at you. you could practically read her thoughts; "stop being so damn bratty."

but you couldn't help it.

"well, it's good to know you're having such a great time," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"y/n,"

"i'm gonna go to the bathroom, so..." you shrugged before meeting liz's eyes. "it was really nice meeting you but i guess i'll catch up with you later, paige."

you knew you were being a bitch but you couldn't help it ─ was it so bad to want your girlfriend's undivided attention? sure, it was probably the alcohol making you more dramatic than usual, but the feelings were real. you turned on your heel and headed towards the bathroom, not waiting for paige's response. as you walked away, you could feel her glare on your back.

in the bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, trying to cool down and collect your thoughts. you stared at your reflection in the mirror, taking deep breaths. maybe you were overreacting, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being sidelined.

you heard a knock on the door, feeling your frustration peak. "taken!"

"it's me, open the door." paige's voice was muffled but you could recognize it. you rolled your eyes, opening the door to meet your tall girlfriend's eyes, which were filled with annoyance.

"the fuck was that?" she mumbled as she pushed herself into the small bathroom. "i don't appreciate your attitude when we're just trying to have fun,"

you scoffed as you crossed your arms, leaning against the sink. "you didn't have to come, you could've just stayed with liz and had fun."

"you're making this really fucking hard, and you know how much i hate bratty attitudes." paige's voice came out low as she stepped closer, her presence filling the small space. you could feel the heat radiating off her as she towered over you, her frustration palpable.

"i don't like feeling ignored," you shot back, not backing down despite the intensity of the situation. "it's like i don't even exist when you're with her."

"jesus, since when are you so needy? is it the alcohol?" paige's jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing.

"you are such an asshole! i'm not being needy." you huffed, turning your back to paige.

"seems like it, baby. can't handle me talking to other women, is that right?" paige's hand found your hips as she pressed herself against your back.

you met her eyes through the reflection of the mirror, the bathroom suddenly feeling even smaller. the tension between you crackled like electricity. paige's grip on your hips was firm, her presence overwhelming.

you squared your shoulders, meeting her gaze in the mirror with defiance. "maybe i just expect my girlfriend to care more about me than some random girl," you shot back, your voice laced with venom.

paige's eyes narrowed, her grip tightening. "really pushing it, y/n."

"maybe you deserve it," you retorted, refusing to back down. "you're acting like I don't even matter."

paige's jaw clenched, and in an instant, her patience snapped. "cut the fucking attitude, seriously. or do i need to fuck it outta you?"

you scoffed, feeling your face flush as she spoke. she pressed herself against you, her breath warm against your ear as your stomach twisted in need. the room seemed to shrink even more as the tension between you intensified.

"you think you can just say whatever you want and get away with it?" she whispered, her voice low and dangerous.

your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of anger, desire, and frustration swirling inside you. "maybe if you paid more attention to me, i wouldn't have to," you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly.

paige's grip on your hips tightened, pulling you even closer. "you want my attention?" she growled softly, her lips brushing against your ear. "fine. you've got it."

paige's hands slid up your sides, fingers digging into your flesh just enough to send a shiver down your spine. you met her gaze in the mirror, your breath hitching as her lips brushed against your ear.

"you don't get to act out and then demand my attention," she murmured, her voice a low, dangerous whisper. "you needa learn how to behave, baby."

her hands roamed over your body, teasing and taunting as she spoke. your anger and frustration began to melt into a different kind of heat, one that spread through your veins and pooled low in your belly.

"paige..." you whispered, your voice betraying the conflict within you. you wanted her attention, but not like this, not in a way that made you feel even smaller.

"shh," she commanded softly, her fingers finding the hem of your shirt and slipping beneath it. "you wanted my attention. now, you have it."

her hands were everywhere, overwhelming your senses as she pressed her body against yours. your breath came in ragged gasps, and you felt a surge of need that matched the anger you had felt moments before. paige's grip tightened, her hands moving with a roughness that bordered on punishing.

"you think you can just throw a tantrum and get what you want?" she growled, her lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. "gonna learn tonight that it doesn't work like that."

her words sent a thrill of fear and excitement through you, the line between pleasure and pain blurring in the intensity of the moment. you bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan as paige's hands worked their way over your body, every touch a reminder of her dominance.

"want me to pay attention to you?" she asked, her voice a harsh whisper. "you're going to have to earn it."

her words were a challenge, one that you knew you couldn't back down from. you met her gaze in the mirror, your eyes filled with defiance and desire. "fine," you breathed, your voice trembling.

"fix your face, first of all." paige spoke, her voice mixed with annoyance and desire. "gonna fuck all that attitude outta ya, huh?"

she suddenly squeezed your hip, causing an unexpected moan to fall out of your mouth. paige's grip on your hip was firm, her fingers digging into your flesh as she leaned in closer.

her breath was hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "that's better," she murmured, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "let's get rid of that attitude."

her hands moved with purpose, one sliding up to cup your breast while the other traced a teasing path down your stomach. you bit your lip, trying to stifle the sounds of pleasure that threatened to escape, but it was futile. paige knew exactly how to play your body, how to elicit the responses she wanted.

"i'm all yours, baby," she growled softly, her lips brushing against your neck. "and you're gonna remember that tonight."

you could feel the heat radiating from her body, the intensity of her presence overwhelming your senses. every touch, every whisper was a reminder of her dominance, and you couldn't help but surrender to it. paige's hand slid lower, her fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your jeans. you gasped, your body arching into her touch as she found your most sensitive spot.

"oh, paige," you moaned, your voice a mix of frustration and longing.

she chuckled softly, her breath warm against your ear. "that's right, baby. say my name."

paige rubbed your clothed pussy, watching your every move through the mirror. she caged you in with her arms on either side of you, her eyes dark with intent. the small bathroom felt even more confining as she leaned in closer, her presence dominating every inch of space.

"look at you," she murmured, her fingers working skillfully through the fabric, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. "so desperate for me, is this what you've wanted all night?"

you whimpered, your hands gripping the edge of the sink as you tried to steady yourself. paige's eyes never left yours in the mirror, her gaze holding you captive. the intensity of her touch, the way she controlled every movement, left you breathless and wanting more.

"paige, please," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "can't take it."

a slow, predatory smile spread across her lips. "you can take it," she whispered, her fingers pressing harder against you. "you will take it. my princess needs to learn patience, been too nice to you, huh?"

her words sent a shiver down your spine, the commanding tone only heightening your arousal. paige's other hand slipped under your shirt, her fingers brushing against your bare skin, teasing you further. the contrast between her rough and gentle touches was intoxicating, driving you to the brink.

"please," you whimpered, your voice breaking. "paige, need more."

her smile widened, a hint of sadistic pleasure in her eyes. "i know you do, baby," she murmured, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "but you're going to have to earn it."

she suddenly pulled her hand away, and you let out a frustrated whine, your body aching for her touch. paige's hands found your hips, and she spun you around to face her. her eyes were dark and dilated with desire as she pushed you back against the sink, trapping you with her body.

"you want more?" she asked, her voice a low growl. "show me how badly you need it."

her hands moved to your jeans, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping them before sliding them down your legs. the cool air against your heated skin sent a shiver through you, and you gasped as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down as well.

"look at you, so wet" she said, her voice filled with satisfaction. "so ready for me."

paige's hands were everywhere, touching and teasing as she pressed her body against yours. her lips found your neck, kissing and nibbling the sensitive skin as her fingers trailed up your inner thigh, finally finding their way to your core.

you cried out as she touched you, your body arching into her hand. "paige, please," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "can't take it, i need you."

"good girl," she murmured, her breath hot against your skin. "now, keep begging."

her fingers slipped into your soaking pussy, they began stroking you with a slow, torturous rhythm that left you gasping for breath. you clung to her, your nails digging into her shoulders as you tried to steady yourself.

"oh fuck, please," you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea. "need you, need you to make me come. please."

"that's it," she purred, her fingers increasing their pace. "keep begging, baby, wanna hear how much you want it."

"want it so much," you cried, your body trembling with need. "need you, paige. please, please make me cum."

"apologize, baby. i didn't get to enjoy the game cause of you," paige mumbled against your lips as you whimpered.

"i'm so sorry, please," you cried out as your pussy tightened around her fingers. "pleasepleaseplease, wanna cum so bad," you rambled.

her eyes flashed with satisfaction, and she leaned in to capture your lips in a searing kiss. her tongue danced with yours, the kiss deepening as her fingers worked you with relentless precision. the intensity of her touch, combined with the passion of her kiss, pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

"cum for me," she commanded, her voice a low growl against your lips.

with a final cry, you obeyed, your body shuddering as the pleasure washed over you. paige held you steady, her touch guiding you through the waves of sensation until you were left breathless and spent.

she gripped your face with her other hand before shoving the wet fingers into your lips, humming as you tasted herself on them. "fuck, that's right, baby girl."

paige smirked as she slipped her fingers out of your mouth, a satisfied glint in her eyes. "did so well," she murmured. "now, let's clean you up."

she helped you straighten your clothes, her touch surprisingly gentle after the intense encounter. you could still feel the aftershocks of your orgasm coursing through your body, your legs trembling slightly as you adjusted your jeans.

paige's fingers lingered on your skin, tracing soft patterns as she made sure you were put back together. she looked at you with a mix of pride and affection, her dominant demeanor softening as she pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

"you okay?" she asked, her voice low and soothing.

you nodded, still catching your breath. "yeah, 'm okay," you whispered, your voice a bit shaky but filled with gratitude.

"good," she replied, her smile genuine. "let's get back out there and enjoy the rest of the night, the girls are probably where we're at."

she took your hand, leading you out of the bathroom and back into the lively atmosphere of the bar. the noise and energy of the crowd felt like a stark contrast to the intense intimacy you had just shared, but with paige by your side, you felt a sense of contentment.

as you made your way back to your spot, paige glanced at you with a playful glint in her eye. "you gonna behave now?" she teased, her tone light but carrying a hint of the dominance that had just left you breathless.

you smirked, feeling a surge of affection for her. "oh yeah, paige," you replied, squeezing her hand. "i'll behave."

"good," she said, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your temple. "cause the night is still young, and i'm not done with you yet."

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

[menagerofmischief]

hi! could i place an order for olives and cheese and a hot appetizer. i'd also like fish tacos, veggie burger, and hot dog. then for the drinks, could i get ice tea, champagne, and an espresso (fem dom reader if you’re okay with that). i don't need dessert but if you want to add it that's okay! and for the servers i’d like charles leclerc and max verstappen. p.s my fav track is spa

Dia's Diner Menu / Masterlist

olives and cheese friends to lovers hot appetizer sweet sex fish tacos "Just lie back and let me take care of you" veggie burger "Feel how hard you make me" hot dog "Thought about you while touching myself. The real thing is much better" ice tea oral champagne threesome espresso dom/sub (dom!reader) light dessert some aftercare + moussaka "You look your best covered in my cum"

boyfriend!Max Verstapen x girlfriend!reader x bsf!Charles Leclerc

TW: oral (m!receiving/f!receiving), face sitting, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, PiV, PiA, threesome mmf, charles gets used (sexually), switch!max, dom!reader, sub!charles, MxM action, degradation, praise, semi public sex (car), inappropriate elevator behaviour, unprotected sex x2, cumming inside, cumming on someone, no real plot mostly just porn, also smut straight under the cut

WC: 3.2k

A/N: this is like filthy filthy - I got started and I couldn't stop. also, in this fic reader and max are dating and charles is their best friend.

request more lestappen x reader pls ...

“Fuck,” I say, my voice laced with a laugh as I look down at the man in front of me. “Is that what you wanted?”

Max whines, his eyes glassy as he desperately tries to thrust up into my hand despite me pushing his hips down. I laugh at him, finally bringing my hand back down to his hard dick, wrapping it around him and giving him a few strokes, running my thumb across the slit which had him moaning.

“I think I asked you a question?” I say, gripping his length just a bit harder. “Is that what you’ve been thinking about, you little whore? Bringing your best friend into our bed.”

“Yes,” Max moans, catching his bottom lip between his teeth, his cheeks flushed and chest raising and falling with each desperate breath he takes. “Yes, fuck, I can’t stop thinking about it. Since -”

He cuts himself off with a loud whine, his head falling backwards when I lean down and wrap my lips around his tip, circling it with my tongue. I pull back, a string of saliva still connecting me to him and lay a slap against his thigh. “Didn’t tell you to stop talking.”

I kitten lick his tip before placing kisses down his length lower and lower until I’m finally running my tongue along his balls.

Max moans loudly and I can feel his thighs tense as he tries to keep himself from thrusting his body upwards. I look up at him through my eyelashes, the massage clear in my eyes. Keep talking.

“A, fuck fuck … a few days ago when you were walking with him from Ferrari to RedBull, and he had his arm on your back and you were laughing at something he said.” Max’s hand goes to my hair, his fingers tangling into the strands but he doesn’t pull, just holds my hair as I keep working my mouth on his cock. “You two looked so hot together - can’t help it!”

“Oh baby,” I cooed, pulling away and wrapping one of my hands around him instead. “You saw us talking together and suddenly all you can think about is a threesome. You desperate dirty whore.”

“He wants it too,” Max babbled, his eyes rolling back from pleasure. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“And I’ve seen the way you look at him,” I shot back, speeding up the movement of my hand. “Let me tell you something Maxie, I would be more than happy to have a threesome with Charles but if you want it that bad, you’re the one who has to do something about it. Does that work for you?”

“Yes, yes!” He said, his voice desperate. “I’ll do it, swear! I’ll ask him!” Max whined, his abdomen tensing and I could tell that he was close. “I’m gonna cum! Please let me cum!”

“Cum,” I said before leaning down and taking all of him into my mouth, gagging a little when I felt his tip rub against the back of my throat. It only took a few bobs of my head and Max was cumming, shooting his load down my throat, moaning like a whore.

✿ ✿ ✿

It’s a few days later, the conversation just barely lingering in the back of my mind, that something happens. 

We’re on our way back from a grid get together, just something for the drivers and the WAG’s. All three of us, Max, Charles and me. Max was sitting in the front, his eyes focused on the road, and I was in the back with Charles, deciding to keep him company rather than let him sit in the back alone. That was possibly a bad move on my side.

It was a logical thing, to offer to drive Charles back, seeing as we lived in the same building and it was too late for him to bike back home. That didn’t mean that the situation in the car was comfortable - in fact, the tension was so thick it felt suffocating, even with the windows rolled down and the wind running through my hair as Max sped down the streets of Monaco.

It was quiet, not even the radio playing, which probably contributed to the tension. I was about to open my mouth, say something, say anything really as the silence was becoming unbearable.

But instead the only thing that came out of my mouth was a gasp. A gasp, as Charles put his hand on my naked thigh, where my dress had ridden up, his thumb rubbing circles into my skin. A gasp, as my eyes met Max’s in the rear-view mirror, his eyes scrunched up letting me know he was smirking.

This was planned.

This was discussed.

Between the two of them. 

I had told Max that if he wanted a threesome with Charles he was going to be the one to discuss it with him. Apparently he had - and I wasn’t about to complain.

I looked over to Charles, a hint of hesitation still visible in his eyes. “Well,” I said, my voice finally breaking the silence we had fallen into. “Are you gonna keep your hand there or are you gonna be a good boy and do something?”

Charles’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed his spit. 

I could hear Max laugh from the front of the car. “Go on Charles,” he said, his voice holding a teasing tone. “I’ll even give you a challenge. Make her cum before we reach the building.”

I can’t help the amused laugh that escapes me. While more often than not when we were having sex Max was leaning onto the much more submissive side he did enjoy taking control from time to time. Seems like Charles was going to get the privilege of seeing one of those times. 

Charles doesn’t need to be told twice, his hand moving up my thigh and slipping underneath my dress. His breath hitches when his fingers brush directly against my slit, my arousal coating his fingers.

His eyes meet mine and as we pass under one of the street lights I can see how flushed his cheeks had gotten. “Panties didn’t do with the dress,” I said, licking my lips. I thought about it for a second before leaning forward and kissing him, gently pulling on his bottom lip with my teeth.

Charles whines into the kiss and finally his fingers brush over my clit and I let out a satisfied hum. He runs his fingers through my folds a few times, coating them in my wetness before slowly pushing one inside of me.

He thrusts it into me a few times before getting more comfortable and adding another finger in. “Oh there we go Charlie,” I say, my voice slightly breathless. “Feels so good, baby, keep going.”

I can see his eyes light up at the praise and the movement of his fingers starts to speed up  His fingers curl each time he pushed them back inside, rubbing just right against my most sensitive spot and he brings his thumb down to my clit, flicking it in time to match the thrusts of his fingers.

He works fast, he’s desperate and soon enough he’s bringing me to the edge of an orgasm. Looking to the front I can see Max is holding the wheel with only one hand and rather obviously palming himself through his jeans with the other. Maybe I’d be doing that while driving but he is a 3 times racing world champion so it doesn’t really matter.

I moan, feeling the pressure and burning in my stomach and grab onto Charles’s arm to steady myself and keep his hand there. “You’re gonna me cum, Charlie,” I say, my voice cracking. “Keep going!”

It’s only a few more thrusts of his fingers and flicks of my clit and I’m cumming, my orgasm coating his fingers. 

Charles pulls his fingers out, glistening with the remains of my arousal and orgasm, and without any hesitation pops them into his mouth. He sucks on his fingers, leaking them clean and moaning at the taste.

“You taste so good, cheri.” He says, his voice breathy. “Better than I imagined. I thought about you while touching myself,” he admits, leaning forward and placing kisses along my collarbones. “The real thing is much better.”

Max groans from the front and I’m about to reach forward and palm Charles over his jeans when the car pulls up into the garage. 

“Ride’s over, boys.” I said, a small smirk on my lips. “Come on, we’re going up to our apartment.”

It’s a wonder we even make it to the elevator, thankfully empty, before their hands are all over me. As soon as the elevator doors close Max is pulling me forward, his lips pressing against mine roughly and his hand slipping between my thighs to run his fingers over my pussy.

Charles is behind me, his hands groping my tits, lips pressed against my neck as he grinds his hard cock into my ass.

“You feel that, cheri?” Charles asks, his accent thick. He pushes his hips forward, his dick rubbing against my ass. “Feel how hard you make me?”

I pull away from Max and turn around to face Charles with a hum, Grabbing onto his shirt I pull him down enough to kiss him. He groans into the kiss but I am soon pulling back and stepping away, moving to stand behind Max, my hands running over his chest.

It’s silent for a moment, the elevator filled with the sound of heavy breathing as the two of them look at each other. And then something snaps and Charles surged forward, both of his hands cupping Max’s face as he smashes his lips against Max’s.

I had to admit it, seeing the two of them kiss was even more attractive than I thought it was going to be. They pulled away just as the elevator dinged before the doors slid open on our floor.

All three of us rushed out and down the hallway, Max fumbling with the keys before opening the front door and then kicking it closed once we were all inside. As soon as the door is closed we waste no time, immediately moving to the bedroom.

I start unbuttoning Charles’s shirt, my fingers moving along every inch of his revealed skin while Max unzips my dress from behind me and pulls it off my body, leaving me only in my bra.  

I finally push Charles’s shirt off and hear shuffling behind me, letting me know Max is taking off his clothes. Charles makes quick work of his pants and then reaches forward, his arms going around me, fingers hooking under my bra and opening it.

Max presses his chest against my back, his dick sliding between my bare thighs, his tip catching against my clit causing me to let out a little moan. Charles takes my bra off and immediately he’s leaning down, running his tongue along the skin of tit before wrapping his lips around my nipple and sucking while his fingers toy with the other one. 

I can feel Max move away because the feel of him between my legs is gone. He moves to the other side of the room, pulling out an all too familiar box of toys and rummaging through it before he pulls out a bottle of lube.

I catch his eye and give him a smirk and silently we agree how the rest of the night is going to be going.

I push my hand into Charles’s hair, wrapping it around his locks and pulling his head back. He whines, his lips slightly swollen and glazed with saliva, his eyes meet mine. I let go of his hair and cup his cheek, running my thumb over his skin. 

“You’re so pretty, baby.” I say, gently pushing against his stomach with one hand to guide him back towards the bed. His knees hit the edge of the bed and I push him down, a smile on my lips. “Just lie back and let us take care of you, pretty boy.”

“Please,” Charles whines, and obediently moves himself up along the bed, settling down into the mattress once his head is resting on a pillow.

I crawl up to him, straddling his chest and can feel his abs rubbing against my clit. “Now Charlie,” I said, my fingers ghosting over his chest. “Max is going to finger you pretty ass and then when he’s stretched you he’s going to fuck your ass while I ride your cock. Does that sound okay baby?”

Charles whined, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and he nodded his head desperately, his hands gripping my waist. “Yes please! Please -”

I could hear the bottle cap opening and liquid squirting and then Charles moaned and I knew Max had started touching him. 

Charles’s hands grip my waist, his blunt nails digging into my skin as Max works him open. Behind me I can hear Max laugh, his voice ringing against the walls of the bedroom. “You should see how well he’s taking it. Like a proper slut.”

“Fuck, Y/n,” Charles moans, making me look down at him with a curious look. “Need to taste you, need it.” He babbles through moans, “Sit on my face. Please, ride my face.”

I don’t even think it through, too turned on to even entertain the possibility of declining, and why would I want to decline. I move up and turn around so I’m facing down Charles’s body and looking at Max, before lovering my hips down to Charles’s face.

His nose nudges against my clit, pulling a breathy moan from me as he starts thrusting his tongue into my hole, eating me like a man starved. I help him out a bit by moving my hips slightly, rubbing my clit onto his nose.

“How’s it going Max?” I ask, my voice teasing.

He smiles in reply, two of his fingers buried into Charle’s asshole and he’s thrusting them in. “Going good, schat.” He replies, leaning forward over Charles’s body to kiss me. 

I can feel another orgasm approaching me and so can Charles because he wraps his lips around my clit, his tongue flicking the bundle of nerves and shoves two fingers inside of me, curling them right into my G-spot.

I come with a loud moan, my thighs closing around his head. After taking a moment to calm down from my orgasm I move myself off his face just as Max removes his fingers. 

“I think he’s ready,” Max says, already pouring lube on his dick. I move forward, squirting some lube onto my own hand before stroking Max with it, helping him lube his dick. “You ready, Charles?”

“Yes,” Charles says. His voice sounds slightly broken, a bit hoarse. “Fuck me. Both of you fuck me. Please.”

I wait for Max to push his cock in first. He’s hissing as he pushes the cockhead in and then the rest of his length. Charles is moaning in pleasure when Max finally bottoms out, lodged balls deep inside of him.

I straddle Charles again, I’m facing him with my back turned to Max. Max rubs my shoulder with one hand, leaning forward enough for his lips to brush the shell of my ear when he speaks. “I’ll hold his cock, you sink down.”

My mouth drops open as Max guides the tip of Charles’s dick to my opening, a breathy moan falling past my lips as I begin to sink down on his cock. 

Charles is moaning so loud I’m sure there will be several noise complaints the next morning but I can’t bring myself to care. Not when he feels so good inside of me. 

“Ready, schat?”

“Ready, Max.”

Max and I start moving at the same time. I’m lifting my hips up halfway up Charles’s dick before lowering myself back down and behind me Max is thrusting into his hole.

Already sensitive from my previous orgasms I find myself quickly approaching another one. I can tell Charles is close too, his dick twitching inside of me. His cheeks are redder than his car, his eyes filled with tears.

I lean forward gently pressing my lips to his. “You gonna cum, pretty boy?” I ask, my lips brushing against his with every word. “Gonna be a good boy and cum for me?”

“Yes! Ah! Cumming!”

And that’s all he manages to say  before he’s shooting ropes of cum into me, filling me with his warm cum. I clench around his dick, my own orgasm washing over me, making me close my eyes and throw my head back, a moan caught in the back of my throat.

Charles whines and I don’t even realize it’s because Max pulled out until Max is kneeling on the bed next to me. His eyes find mine and he gives me a desperate look, pleas rolling off his tongue.

I move my hand down, wrapping it around his dick and start jerking him off. It only takes a few strokes and he’s cumming, shooting his load across Charles’s chest and covering him in his cum.

Max pants, trying to catch his breath, his chin resting on my shoulder. “Fucking hell, Leclerc.” He says, slightly out of breath. “You always look hot but damnit, you look your best covered in my cum.”

Charles hides his blushing face into his hands, mumbling out a muffled thank you. Max smiles before getting up and going over to the bathroom to get a towel while I make my way over to the kitchen for some water.

After making it back to bed just in time to see Max finish cleaning Charles up he gently spreads my legs open as well, wiping the cum from my pussy. I pass him one glass of water while offering the other to Charles.

“Here, Charlie, drink some water.” I say, knowing he’s probably too out of it to actually make a move for the glass, I bring to his lips. He drinks about half the glass until he decides he’s done and I put it down on the floor next to the bed.

Finally he snaps out of his trance, his eyes focusing on me and Max. When he speaks, the insecurity is unmistakable in his voice. “Should I get going?” He asks, his voice cracking. “I know you guys are probably tired. Just give me a minute, I’m not sure my legs are working properly.”

Max and I share a look, both of us shaking our heads.

“You don’t have to leave, Charles.” Max says, “We’d love to have you stay.”

Charles looks over to me, his eyes giving away just how vulnerable he’s feeling in the moment. I smile gently at him and nod my head, and he lets out a breath, his shoulders slumping.

“I’d love to stay,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

Max and I smile at him before moving on either side of him and laying down, quickly melting into the bed. We fall asleep as one big cuddle pile.

[omgfangirlland]

Dude.. I imagine a neglected reader who's into wattpad, qoutev, ao3 or any app.. Then one day she stumble upon a Bruce Wayne x joker or any weird ship of her family. Imagine the batfam just seeing her laugh at the corner while looking at her phone, thinking that she's got a boyfriend something but the truth is she's actually reading those weird fanfics. Just imagine the look of Batman when he sees the Batman x joker x Bruce Wayne or just Batman x joker.. Plus the tiktok edits.. Lmao (plot twist, it was reader who actually wrote those fanfics under a fake user and it became famous)

-🔱

OMG IMAGINE

Finding ships like Batman x Joker, Nightwing x Slade, SUPERMAN X ROBIN?!

THE INCEST ONES-

They may think reader is laughing and smiling because of a boy- but she's about to become worse than the rogues by simply spreading lies and fiction.

(Reader is quite mean, kinda a brat. This is also honestly more crack than serious.)

She doesn't hide the fact that she hates them, all her profiles say "I'm doing this because I hate them". All of them. She doesn't believe they'd care or that they'll find out, they didn't with the ones that already exist, so-

She doesn't do it half assed- she gets better and better, more and more poetic, the biggest masterpieces always being the Joker x Batman fics, but the tiktok edits are all of Nightwing getting choked by Slade(she enjoys those the best) and are just as popular.

Dick is on the verge of crying if he gets one more "Slade's lover" catcall, he almost hit a light pole the first time it happened. Bruce is just tired, but it's nothing new, the batman x joker happens at least once a year.

But Jason? Jason's eyes are on you. He doesn't like you smiling and giggling, kiking your feet like an anime school girl- he thinks you're talking to someone. Not a boy- but some weirdo on the internet. He's even more stressed because he has no proof, and you're not on the best terms for him to just ask-

He goes to Tim. And while Tim finds it weird, he does it. Timothy finds it even weirder how much security you have on your laptop and phone, and he shrugs. "It isn't worth it. Just to see what? The stupid shows she watches?"

But Jason falls even deeper into the pure paranoia- You're talking to an old man who does cybersecurity- that must be it.

Dick found the tiktok account. He screamed with Bruce right across him. He's not fine, mainly because the clips aren't public, they're from videos locked deep into the Batcomputer and Teen Titans systems. Your accounts have officially become a problem.

You notice, and sadly, you say goodbye to the crazies who read and watched with a simple "The bats found me😢" and nothing else. Accounts deactivated, deleted, and the only glimpse of them existing is people on Twitter crying about you getting got by the vigilantes.

You still read them, just to laugh, and Jason's still worried. Too worried. So worried, he started talking to you. You hated it.

"... You know- you could talk to me. Maybe we could go get some batburgers on my bike-"

"I'd rather get waterboarded and hung by my ribs."

"Alright."

He decides to bring it to Bruce's attention, which result in the man sitting on the edge of your bed as you huddle in the corner, as far away from him as possible, looking like a kit ready to hiss her little lungs away.

Now- you could tell the truth, just say you were actually jokergagglingbatsballs35, but what fun was that? You took the opportunity to stab. Psychologically.

"I'm not. I'm talking to friends I know in real life- you know? I have those." You roll your eyes as you spew a half lie, half truth. "And since when do you care about me and whoever I'm talking to? Stop acting like you're a caring father and go back to being Batman. You're weirding me out with your two-bit act."

It's super effective!

And now, the family has forgotten about the edits and fanfics- they have a bigger problem. You taking their worry and affection as threats and fakeness.

----

I definitely see this batsis starting to manipulate them once she realizes they're not faking, and when she gets bored, she'll literally take some money and just move away.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Bloodlove

AN: I'm a JJAM hater but, when I saw these clips of HyunSung...I couldn't help myself. I have a million other fics I'm working on but, HyunSung will always take priority lol. Also, I do want to make more banners for my fics but, I couldn't find many pictures of the two of them with (fake) blood smeared on their faces so, we're going to have to settle for the classic three photos for this one. Can't believe it's taken me this long to post something HyunSung focused.

Synopsis: The two strange men that you've developed a bit of an...odd relationship with decide to pay you another visit. They're especially famished tonight.

General tags and warnings: Hwang Hyunjin x Han Jisung x Fem! Reader, Hyunjin and Jisung are vampires, lots of blood and biting involved, they initially enter Reader's home without her consent, acquaintances to potential lovers lol?, they're all in love/infatuated with each other your honour and not much plot.

Smut tags and warnings: dubcon if you squint since Reader does all of this after HyunSung drink a substantial amount of her blood and there's one joke about compulsion but, it's not brought up after that and there's no actual compelling that happens, lots of blood and kissing with blood, lots of biting, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unintentional temperature play because they're undead, breast and nipple play (f. receiving), HyunSung being able to smell Reader's arousal, pussy sniffing once (f. receiving), dirty talk, Reader getting teary eyed, mxm but it's only kissing in this but, it's implied HyunSung have done more, petnames, manhandling (they have super strength because, y'know, vampires), piv sex without a condom, dirty talk, clawing, creampies, lots of cum, cumplay of sorts, Reader realises in real time she might have a creampie kink, unrealistic sex because they're vampires lol, marking, bruising, brief mentions of masturbation and implied aftercare.

Word count: 5.8k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

The first thing you register is your heart thundering in your ribcage the moment you jolt out of your sleep. Bringing your shaky hand to your chest, you're not sure what startled you awake: the storm raging outside your bedroom window or whatever nightmare you were experiencing that's already rapidly fading from your memory. Your mind is having difficulty catching up to the anxiety still fresh in your veins. Remnants of sleep making everything hazy and disorientated at the edges. 

“Bad dream?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin when you finally notice the two figures who have seemingly made themselves at home on your windowsill. You nearly scream out of reflex but, your brain boots up in time to inform you that your home isn't being invaded and the two men lounging in your bedroom are not strangers. Well, they are but, not really. Half-strangers? Acquaintances? You're not sure what you'd categorise your relationship as but, it's somewhere between more than acquaintances but, definitely less than friends. 

“What are you two doing here?” You hiss, struggling to make them out in your dark room with the moon and city lights being of little help. Shooting them a deeply unamused glare while you attempt to calm your racing heart and lessen the anxiety still circulating in your system. 

“What, we can't pay our favourite girl a visit?” asks the shorter man. It may be dark but, you can see Jisung's grin clear as day. You decidedly ignore the implications of his phrasing of ‘favourite girl’ because you're already dealing with far too much right now and you doubt it's even 4 a.m. 

“I doubt you're here for just a visit,” you mumble under your breath, reaching for the water bottle you keep on your nightstand. Taking a generous sip that significantly helps you feel better and less like a mess of stress and dehydration. 

“Are you complaining? That'd be a first,” the taller man chimes in, amusement colouring his voice and heating your blood in a way you're not sure you'll ever be ready to think too much about. The awful part is, he's not wrong. Whatever this…arrangement the three of you have has gone on without any hitches for months now. You're not sure why you let them slip into your apartment and drink from you. In the few instances that you've really sat with yourself and attempted to find out why, nothing that feels valid has come up. Pity? Who pities vampires of all people? A sense of duty? What duty should you feel to strangers? A gesture of kindness? You'd like to think you're a decent person but, this is far beyond the scope of simple generosity. 

So, what is it? 

“I'm complaining because you two snuck into my room while I was asleep and scared the shit out of me. Usually you do this while I'm, you know, awake and with some kind of head's up,” you respond, setting your bottle back down and looking at the two men. Well, they're far beyond ordinary men but, the word ‘vampire’ still feels so foreign on your tongue and even in your thoughts. The two of them have always seemed deeply connected to each other from the moment they approached you that fateful Friday night. Moving towards you like a well-oiled machine, their steps in time with one another. 

“Sorry,” at least Hyunjin has the decency to sound half-sincere but, the hunger in his eyes betrays him, “We're just starving and it's been a month,” is the explanation he offers as though you three haven't been doing this for months now. What an absurd turn your life has taken. If you ever found the courage to tell Minho and Seungmin about this, you're certain your best friends would think you'd watched the Twilight movies one too many times and have certifiably lost your mind. They wouldn't be entirely wrong either. 

Shoving your heavy blanket to the side, you expose your body for them to ogle thoroughly. You don't have to look up at them to know they're burning holes into you right now. The excitement from them is palpable. It rolls off of them in waves. You still haven't quite managed to not feel on edge after all this time but, it's not fear or dread that churns in the pit of your stomach. 

“Well, I'm ready. Have it,” is all you say, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. You're sure the two of them would never harm you but, you've made it a habit to keep these…sessions as clinical as possible. Holding them at a safe distance. Which, frankly, sounds insane since they regularly invade your personal space to drink your blood. Maybe you have lost it and this is all a months long hallucination. 

Jisung startles you out of your thoughts by placing a cool hand on your thigh. Goosebumps erupt on your skin instantaneously and you resist the impulse to shudder when his molten eyes find yours, “I'm just gonna move you a little. Make both of us a little more comfortable,” and just like that you find yourself tugged to the edge of your bed as though you were the same weight as a feather. His display of strength prompts you to claw at your sheets briefly. The first time he did this, you thought it was all a ploy to get you into bed but, true to his word, he really was only interested in your blood. You tried not to let your disappointment show at the time. Now, as his fingers ghost over your thighs and he kneels between them, dragging his nose along your inner thigh, it's still so incredibly hard not to let your thoughts wander. 

Thankfully, you've grown accustomed to the pain so, you only flinch minimally when he sinks his fangs into your skin. The groan that drags itself out of the depths of his chest goes decidedly ignored by you. Hyunjin slinks his way behind you, long fingers gently tilting your head to the side for easier access. His approach is what you'd been expecting the first time. The classic vampire. In the glimpses you've gotten of the two, Hyunjin does seem like more of the idea of a vampire you've been fed since you were eleven. His hair tickles the parts of your skin it touches, providing some reprieve from the pinch his bite brings. 

You've always wondered why they do this together. Why not have their own individual moment with you? To feed from you? Maybe this just helps them save time. Maybe it's some weird vampire bylaw that you're too human to understand. It's such an odd sensation feeling your blood leave your body this way. Even now, it's dizzying and fogs up your brain. It doesn't help that they seem especially hungry tonight so, they're drinking much faster than you've grown used to. It's not unpleasant, though. Just…different. Still a touch unfamiliar. 

Surprisingly, Jisung is the first one to stop. He isn't exactly the best at showing restraint.  The handful of times Hyunjin has had to butt in by either forcibly telling him to stop or dragging him by his hair off of you speak for themselves. So, you're left a little confused when he unlatches himself from your thigh of his own freewill and looks up at you. Something horrible, animalistic and wanton simmers in the pit of your stomach when you notice the fresh blood generously smeared across his lips and parts of his cheeks. Your blood is all over his handsome face while he's staring at you from between your thighs. It was easier before. When he'd just drink your blood, heal you with his saliva and disappear with Hyunjin into the night. Having him here, looking like this is far more than you can take.  

“I can smell you, you know,” he says, a lazy drawl in his voice and you notice the drop in octave immediately. His eyes that are usually alight with hunger look different. They burn with something else entirely. A different kind of hunger that makes your heart leap into your throat and your pussy pulse. 

“Wh-What?” comes your intelligent reply, “Smell me?” you'd like to think you're trying your best with the loop you've been thrown for. 

Hyunjin chooses then to stop feeding off of you. This time, you fail spectacularly at shoving down the shudder that runs down your spine when his cool breath hits the shell of the ear. The smell of your blood drifting to your nostrils, invading your senses, “He means he can smell how aroused you are,” he whispers into your ear as if Jisung can't hear him perfectly well from where he's kneeling. 

His words shatter your brain for a few seconds. All you can do is blink while your brain attempts to make sense of what they've both said. The lack of blood isn't helping. True to fiction, you know their smelling abilities are far beyond that of any human. Sparse conversation over the time you've been doing this has clued you in enough but, it didn't occur to you that that particular ability could be used beyond smelling blood. 

“We don't want to scare you,” Hyunjin mutters gently, large hands ghosting over your waist but, not providing you with the relief of actually touching you. You wonder, briefly, whether compulsion is one of their powers too because the lull in his voice causes your lids to droop and your stomach to twist in a way that isn't wholly unpleasant. “It's just– we– you– you're something else,” he pauses for a second and you're not sure if it's to collect himself or something else entirely, “We haven't felt this way about someone in decades.” The pure yearning in his tone throws you completely. Your eyes widening as you try and process everything he's said while your blood trickles out of you. 

“We?” you ask in only what can be described as a combination of awe and confusion, glancing at the man between your thighs whose scorching gaze hasn't left you and Hyunjin for a second. Your blood is still all over his face. 

“Yes,” Jisung answers immediately and you've never heard one word carry so much weight, “Why do you think we only come to you? Why we only drink from you?” 

You thought the whole them being vampires and drinking from you thing was a lot but, this is a whole different league. Hyunjin allows himself to gently lay his hand on you in what you can only assume is a gesture meant to ease your nerves but, it does the complete opposite. “I didn't know you two only fed off of me,” you whisper, trying your best to gather your bearings. Fiddling with your sheets and avoiding looking at either of them in the hopes that you don't say or do something incredibly stupid. Well, more stupid. 

“I'm– I need to know what you two want from you,” you whisper, afraid that if you speak any louder that you'll shatter the delicate bubble the three of you are in. 

“We just want you,” Jisung answers without a second thought and you wonder just how many times the two of them have spoken about this. “In whatever way you'll let us have you,” Hyunjin adds just as quickly but, no less passionately. His grip on you tightening but, his loosens it before you can even blink. 

You blink harshly. Stars dancing behind your eyelids. You really are about to do something very, very dumb, aren't you? 

“I don't know what I want from this. From you two but, I–I um think I want to see where this goes. So, o–okay,” you whisper, still not looking at either of them. Your heart races when Hyunjin carefully grasps your face so, you have no choice but, to look at him. The hunger and lust you somewhat expected to be present in his eyes are there but, there's a quiet softness in them too that's making it really difficult for you to breathe, “We'll take it slow, okay?” He assures you, leaning down and giving you ample time to tell him no or push him away but, you don't. Because you want this. You want him. You want Jisung. You want them. 

Surprising perhaps everyone in the room, you close the distance between the two of you. You kiss him clumsily and are a little taken aback to taste your blood on his lips but, it's not off-putting. In fact, you might even like it a little. Hyunjin doesn't give you much time to ponder on that thought because he's kissing you back with so much enthusiasm, large hands making themselves at home on your waist, palming every inch of you he can. You gasp into his mouth when you feel Jisung licking at his bite marks, closing them up. Hyunjin's tongue snakes its way into your mouth just as Jisung litters your inner thigh with sticky, bloodied kisses. 

“Is it okay if I taste you?” He asks and you're not sure you could answer him properly even without Hyunjin's seeming determination not to let your mouth free. Whether it's the lack of oxygen and blood going to your brain, you feel just the slightest bit delirious and with delirium apparently comes confidence. Your hand finds the hem of your sleeping gown easily and you tug it up your thighs haphazardly, exposing as much of your slick folds to him as you can and hoping he takes the very obvious green light. 

Fortunately for both of you, Jisung is not an idiot and he snatches the invitation as readily as you offer it. Hyunjin let's you have a moment to breathe just as Jisung shoves himself impossibly close to you, acting as though there's no other place he'd rather be than with his head between your thighs and his hands burning imprints into them. “You smell so good,” Hyunjin groans behind you, pressing bloody kisses into your neck and lapping up the blood that's trickled out of you and dried on your skin. Large hands softly kneading your tits over your gown, drinking in every reaction you offer to both of them. 

“She smells even better here,” Jisung comments before pressing his nose into your pussy and inhaling deeply. Embarrassment and desire heat your face and make your walls clench in equal parts. “Ji–Jisung,” you hiss but, it sounds more like a whimper than anything else. He doesn't respond but, you feel him smirk against you. Watching you like a hawk as he takes his first taste of you, his tongue dragging itself from your entrance to your clit. His firm grasp keeps you from bucking your hips into his face. “I bet you taste wonderful, sweetheart,” Hyunjin drawls against your skin, dragging his fangs along your neck while he tugs your gown down to let your tits bounce free. He laughs breathlessly into your neck when Jisung hums in conformation. “Maybe I'll get to taste you later too,” he whispers and you don't have much time to dwell on the thought because Jisung starts lapping at your clit with unabashed enthusiasm. 

Hyunjin keeps you thoroughly in his grasp when your body attempts to jolt from the flurry of sensations its hit with. You couldn't stop the drawn out moans and curses that fall from your lips even if you wanted to. Your eyes flutter and wetness further smears Jisung's face with every kiss and lick. Hyunjin, for his part, has grown thoroughly infatuated with your tits. Kneading them in his massive hands and groaning into your skin every time he toys with your nipples to gauge what you like the best. You think he nearly bites you again when he discovers a drag of his thumbs is all it takes for you to mewl in his hold and seek out his mouth. He readily kisses you. Pouring what you can only imagine is months worth of frustration and desire into this kiss. You can practically taste it. Well, that and your blood. 

He steadies you when Jisung presses two fingers against your dripping entrance. You can feel the way he watches you slowly swallow them. They slip in easily given how beyond wet you are and the strained ‘fuck’ that he whispers makes you grip him tighter. They feel…odd. Not uncomfortable or unwelcome but, just different from what you're used to. Their coolness is foreign but, Jisung uses that to his advantage given how scorching your walls are. “Fuck,” he moans against your pussy, giving your clit a second to breathe, “How is everything about you so good? You taste good, you feel even better,” he mutters, a bit fucked out before knocking the wind out of you by sucking on you while dragging his cold fingers along your sensitive walls. 

“Hyun-Hyunjin,” you cry into his mouth, grasping his forearm for…what? You don't know but it helps. “I've got you, my angel,” he replies without a second thought, nipping at your bottom lip while his hands and Jisung's mouth and fingers force you closer to an edge you hadn't even realised you were approaching. 

When did your other hand find its way into Jisung's hair? 

The thought evaporates from your mind the moment Jisung's fingers find the spot inside of that causes your vision to dance and your thighs to clamp around his head. Not that he minds even the slightest bit. He seems more determined with etching the taste of your pussy into his taste buds and bringing you to the brink of insanity with his fingers. Hyunjin greedily swallows all of the noises the two of them pluck from you. Only stopping when you have to separate for air, not that his mouth leaves you. Immediately attaching itself to every part of your shoulder he can reach. Heavy eyes watching the way your tits fill his hands and the way your back bows when he pinches your nipples a touch too harshly. 

“Hyun–Ji–I'm so–I think–” your tongue feels like it weighs a million kilograms all of a sudden and, it's really, really hard to speak or think beyond the two men touching and tasting you. “It's okay, beloved,” Hyunjin hushes against your neck, “You want to let go for us, don't you?” you're not sure what sounds more tempting: his suggestion or his voice. “You want to cum for us, right?” He continues, giving your tits an especially harsh squeeze and rutting his hard cock against your lower back, “Cum all over Sungie’s face while I play with your beautiful tits, huh?” 

Something within you snaps. Whether it's your sanity or the proverbial knot in the pit of your stomach, you're not sure but, you become undone within an instant. You don't think you've ever cum this hard in your life. Everything sounds distant and feels hazy but, you do feel Hyunjin and Jisung keeping you from totally crumpling onto your bed. Vaguely, you make out one of them saying ‘pretty’ and what you assume is another one of them saying ‘so hot.’ You're not sure how long it takes for you to come back to yourself but, eventually, you do. Blinking open bleary eyes to find Jisung staring at you with a mess of your wetness and blood all over the lower half of his face. It's easily the hottest image you've ever seen in your life and you hope you never forget it. 

“You okay?” Hyunjin asks behind you, large hands having drifted from your tits to soothing run along your waist while you attempt to steady your breathing and stop your thighs from shaking. “Ye-Yeah,” you reply, cringing a little at the hoarseness in your voice, “That was just um a lot and I need a–a second but, I'm good,” you finish, giving them a weak smile that you hope conveys that you are really okay despite the way your thighs quiver. 

“Thank fuck. I was worried we might have gone too far,” Jisung pipes up for the first time in what feels like ages. The depth of his voice makes your stomach drop and you bite back a whimper at the way your sensitive pussy reacts to him. Could your body give you a second? You just came, Jesus Christ. 

“Come here.” 

The words shake you out of your thoughts and you think he's talking to you but, before you can blink he's on his feet and dragging Hyunjin into a mess of spit and tongue by his hair. All you can do is watch the two of them with your mouth parted and your fingers attempting to find leverage in your sheets. You were so wrong. This is easily the hottest image you've ever seen in your fucking life. Your clit throbs and walls clench when Jisung pulls away and pins you down with a look that's far too knowing and smug for your liking. “What? Don't look at me like that,” he has the nerve to sound amused while you're sitting here already wound up. Again. “I just wanted Jinnie to have a taste of your sweet pussy, that's all,” he licks his upper lip for good measure and you're pretty sure you've never wanted to throttle someone more than right now.

“He wasn't wrong,” Hyunjin groans into your ear, his hands gripping your hips fiercely, pressing you against him and making you feel the outline of his cock, “You taste…divine,” the reverence in his voice makes goosebumps arise on your skin and you honestly think you might die if you don't have the two of them right now. 

“Please, please I want–I need to feel both of you. It hurts. I feel so empty and I'm so wet–”

Hyunjin and Jisung seemingly have no reservations about taking the next step in whatever the three of you have because you're blinking up at them within a flash, both of their eyes flashing with intent and want so visceral that your heart leaps in your chest. Hyunjin is the first to move. Positioning himself between your thighs and descending on your mouth immediately. “You have no idea how long we've been waiting for this,” he mutters before pulling away from you. You're about to complain but, he discards your gown faster than you can process. Leaving you totally exposed to the two of you.

“You're so beautiful,” Jisung whispers from somewhere above you and, your eyes catch his as he lounges against your headboard. He shoots you a lazy smile and it does terrible things to your heart. Before you can dwell too much about why he's sitting there you hear rustling and focus your attention back on Hyunjin. 

You're thoroughly unprepared for the sight of a shirtless Hyunjin impatiently tugging his pants and boxers down his slender hips. Seeing him without a shirt is earth shattering in its own right but, watching the way his hand wraps around his cock makes your bedroom spin a little. He has the audacity to shoot you a little grin like his cock isn't inches away from your weeping entrance and you don't hear Jisung's own staggered breathing behind you. His eyes never leave your face. Even as he shuffles closer to you. Even when his hands gently rest against your thighs. Even when his cock rests on your pussy. 

“Is this okay?” He whispers, dragging his cock along your slit and your body jolts totally without your consent when his tip brushes against your clit. “Ah, yes. Yes. Hyunjin please just–” you words are halted by a gasp when he slowly starts to push into you. You shouldn't be shocked at this point but, he's colder than you expect. And longer. And thicker. You can barely make out his face in the haze you're in and all you can do is let your mouth hang open when he finally bottoms out. His grip on your thighs tightens and his hand finds a home in the hollow of your throat while he gives you a bit to adjust to stretch. 

Without much thought, your hands find his broad back and he must read that as some sort of sign because he's pulling out before snapping back inside of you after that. The air is punched out of your lungs but, he continues. Gradually finding a pace that has your toes curling and your nails digging into the cool skin of his back. “You can claw at me all you want,” he whispers in your ear. Chuckling at the way your pussy tightens around him and your fingers follow his suggestion without your prompting. “I'm not one of those mortals,” he continues, “I can take it.” 

And so you do. Basking in the freedom of letting him know just how much you're enjoying being fucked on his cock and his hands more than likely leaving your thighs bruised. The thought of covered in their marks makes your pussy clench and you can't help but, wish they were both touching you right now. 

Hyunjin kisses down your neck until he reaches one of your tits. Covering them in kisses and licks. Grazing them with his fangs and delighting in the way you shudder underneath him. You're a woman on a mission, though. Turning your head until you find Jisung's hooded eyes and his hand around his cock. The sight makes your lips part and even more of your wetness gush onto Hyunjin's cock. 

“Ji–Jisung,” you whine trying your best to look at his handsome face but, it's incredibly challenging when his pretty cock is right there. “Want you too ah,” you manage to gasp out just as Hyunjin sinks his fangs into your tit, sipping on your blood while his pace increases and the obscene sounds of him fucking you echo through your bedroom. Jisung doesn't respond at first. Perhaps needing a second. Then, before you can blink, he's leaning down and devouring you whole with his mouth. Swallowing all of your mewls and whimpers and moans as though he needs them to live. 

“You're killing me here, baby,” he groans against your lips when he finally remembers you need air, “I want nothing more than to fuck you with Jinnie but, we don't know if you'll be able to take it. Maybe next time, okay?” He soothes, toying with your hair and giving you a smile that's filled with promise. You want to tell him you can. You can more than take both of them right now but, you can barely think coherently let alone speak so, all you do is pout and nod in resignation. “Don't give me that look,” he laughs, kissing you once again, “I'll make love to you as soon as Jinnie is done.” 

You may not be experiencing them at the same time but, you can live with them both…making love to you as Jisung put it. He leaves you with one more kiss, letting you focus on the other vampire currently, painstakingly slowly drinking from your tit while he snaps his hips into you. You never thought you'd want them to drink from you so badly but, watching the way Hyunjin revels in your taste, you can't help the fire it fans in the very core of your being. 

“Hyunjin,” you moan and that's all it takes for him to lick his way into your mouth and fold you further into your mattress. You're certain you'll feel the ache in your thighs tomorrow but, you couldn't care less. “You're gonna make me cum,” he moans into your mouth, snapping his hips faster and faster into you while hiz grip on you remains steadfast, “Gonna make me fill up this gorgeous, pretty, tight, hot pussy,” he continues, and you feel him throb inside you and you don't think you've ever wanted someone to cum inside you so intensely. 

“I fuck want it,” you respond, your fingers finding their way into his hair, “Want you to cum inside me, Hyu–Jinnie.” And just like that he slams his mouth into yours and holds you in place while he fills you with his cum as promised. It's cold but, not awful. Outside of how hot he sounds whimpering into your mouth, you're struck by the fact that he's still hard and his cum seems unending. Already starting to trickle out of you while he's still cumming. The realisation causes you to cling to him tighter and your walls to clench around him, milking him for as much as he'll give you. Fuck. 

Eventually, it does stop and he kisses you much gentler now. Even pressing playful kisses along your cheeks and your nose. “You're so pretty,” he sighs dreamily like you hung the moon in the sky just for them. He gives you one last kiss before leaning back and pulling out of you. You knew he was still hard but, seeing it with your own two eyes is a whole different matter. All you can do is blink in astonishment and watch it bob, covered in a mixture of your combined fluids. “It's a vampire perk,” is his explanation and you can tell he and Jisung are trying really hard not to laugh at your shock. 

“It's definitely one of the fun parts,” Jisung adds while tugging off his shirt. You're not sure where or when his pants disappeared but, you're not complaining. “So can you guys like just…cum and stay hard all time?” You ask looking between the two for some sort of sense to be found in all of this. “Not all the time,” Hyunjin replies, making himself at home at the foot of your bed. It's a little hard to focus on what he's saying when he's naked and posed like a Greek god but, you persevere, “But vampires have significantly better stamina than humans. It takes a lot to really wear us out,” he finishes, gesturing vaguely to his still very hard cock for emphasis. 

Before you can think to ask how they get hard to begin with since you don't think they have blood and what exactly their cum consists of, Jisung invades your personal space. His kisses are needy and desperate. His hands practically shake from how much he wants you and, if you're being honest, your ego is going to be through the roof after tonight. “Waited for this for so long,” he mutters into your mouth, positioning himself between your stained thighs. The mixture of Hyunjin's cum and your own wetness provide Jisung with more than enough to sink into you with ease. He's not as big as Hyunjin but, your eyes flutter and toes curl all the same. 

“Fuck, you're so perfect,” he grits out into the hollow of your throat before starting to move. Jisung seems to read you pretty well because his pace isn't slow or gentle and, for that, you're grateful. He fucks you thoroughly, making sure you feel every part of him while his hands explore every expanse of your body they can. Much like Hyunjin, he's especially into your tits. Savoring every gasp and arch of your back he can coax out of you. A garbled mess of his name and a curse fall from your lips when he sinks his fangs into your other breast. Unlike Hyunjin, Jisung doesn't drink slowly. He's greedy. Bloodthirsty. Blood smearing across his mouth while his pace picks up considerably. 

Tears spring to the corner of your eyes when he drags his thumb along your swollen clit. His grasp on your hip keeps you firmly in place. Forcing you to feel every sensation and, it hits you all at once just how close you've been. 

“Ji– oh my god– Jisung,” you cry out, gripping your sheets out of the sheer need to just ground yourself with something. Jisung watches you like a hawk the entire time. Lidded eyes only drifting between your thighs from time to time to watch the way he fucks Hyunjin's cum out of you but, he's more focused on your face. He has to see you when you finally shatter. He has to. 

It's a particular harsh circle he draws with his thumb that finally pushes you over the edge. Thankfully, he lets you catch your breath. Slowing down his pace considerably and slowly fucking you through your climax while he holds your hips. If you weren't on a totally different planet, you'd notice his attempt at soothing you with the circles he rubs into your skin. Still, despite his best efforts to let you come back to yourself, he's a goner the second you blink those teary eyes open and look straight at him. 

A weak whimper is all you can muster when you feel him cum. It honestly doesn't make any sense how hot he is. How hot they both are. You'd gladly give into the unconsciousness you can feel creeping up on you any other time but, right now you're too enamored with watching the way his inky hair sticks to his face and the way his mouth hangs open while he fills you to the point of leakage. Yeah, you've definitely never felt this full before and you're wondering whether the way your pussy flutters at the knowledge is something you even have the energy to unpack tonight. 

He gives you one last kiss before pulling out of you. You're sure you look like a total wreck right now and you can only imagine the state your sheets are in. However, sleep is calling your name and you can already feel yourself starting to drift off. 

“We know you're probably tired but, we need to clean you up, beloved,” Hyunjin says, startling you awake. The apologetic look he gives you is sweet but, you're so exhausted. You doubt you could move even if you wanted to. 

“But ‘m tired,” you mutter, rolling onto your side. 

“We know, baby but, we gotta clean you up and change your sheets,” Jisung chimes in, sounding as apologetic as Hyunjin looks. Before you can argue further, you find yourself in what you quickly realise are Hyunjin's arms. Blinking up at the man while he carries you like you weigh nothing in the direction of your bathroom. 

How does he still manage to look so pretty? 

“I'll help you clean up while Ji changes your sheets,” he says with a smile and you try your hardest to ignore the gymnastics routine your heart is doing. Jisung shoots you an equally as endearing smile over Hyunjin's shoulder before focusing his attention back on trying to clean up the travesty that is your bed at the moment. God, his ass is so cute. 

Allowing yourself to relax in Hyunjin's arms, maybe whatever your new normal is won't be so bad after all.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[nocturnebite]

Clickbait [+..••]

(is this real) - gamer! Ni-ki x fem! reader

synopsis: He wasn’t supposed to swipe back. But now you’re trading late-night calls with a too-perfect gamer, and it feels real—until his past comes crashing in. Was he genuine… or just another kind of clickbait? fic notes: dating apps... ew || banter || mild trust issues || fluff :3 wc: 4.87k

ash's notes: this idea has been in my head for so long and i really wanted to write it and now i'm finally done! i've got so many drafts i need to post it's unreal. but i hope you enjoy this little story :3 !!

“Okay, spill. How was it?”

You blink at your friend, the flickering glow of the café’s fairy lights reflecting in her eyes as she leans forward, resting her chin on her palm like she’s about to hear the juiciest gossip of the year. The table between you smells of burnt caramel and overpriced matcha, and you’ve barely touched your drink. You draw a slow breath, the kind that tastes like disappointment, and offer a flat smile.

“Just more clickbait,” you say.

Your friend groans like it physically hurts her. “No way.”

You nod, slouching in your chair as if gravity itself has finally gotten too heavy to resist. “He said he was six feet. He was five-seven, max. His pictures were from, like, 2018. And he talked about crypto for an hour straight. I didn’t even know people still did that.”

She winces. “Oof.”

You sigh again, softer this time, letting the frustration settle in your chest. “I’m so tired of people pretending to be someone they’re not. I get it—it’s a dating app. Everyone's performing. But why does it feel like I’m the only one actually showing up as me?”

Your friend plays with her straw, thoughtful. “So... you’re giving up?”

You shrug. “I think I’ve officially retired. I’ll knit. Adopt a cat. Maybe start writing angry Yelp reviews.”

“Oh, come on.” She bumps your arm. “You can’t just quit. I had a good date last week, remember? It’s not all trash.”

“Yeah, and I’m thrilled for you,” you say honestly. “But you’re, like, the one-in-a-million success story they use in the ads. I’m the cautionary tale.”

“Stop it,” she says, dragging out the last word like a scolding mom. “You’re gorgeous, funny, smart. You deserve something good.”

You smile, a bit tired around the edges, and tilt your head. “Tell that to the last guy who said ‘no thoughts, just vibes’ on his profile.”

She groans and grabs your phone from the table. “Let’s just look, okay? You don’t have to marry anyone tonight.”

You eye her skeptically. “You’re relentless.”

“And you’re tragic. Come on.”

You sigh but relent, taking the phone back. The app lights up like a slot machine as you open it. Familiar profiles slide past your thumb: shirtless mirror selfies, vague bios with gym stats, a suspicious number of “entrepreneurs.”

Some match with you. You don’t swipe back. Some are clearly bots, or worse—people who look like they borrowed someone else’s face.

And then you see him.

Your thumb freezes.

Tall. Jet-black hair, slightly tousled like he just got up from a gaming chair but still looks model-ready. Hooded eyes. Full lips. That smirk—cocky, unreadable, like he knows something you don’t.

“Holy—” your friend leans over the screen. “Swipe. Now.”

“No,” you say immediately, locking the phone like it just burned you. “Absolutely not. He’s definitely fake.”

“Are you kidding me? That man looks like a Greek god and you’re not even curious?”

“He looks like trouble,” you mutter. “He’s hot. He knows it. Probably a Twitch streamer with a Discord full of girls who call him ‘daddy.’ I’m not signing up for that.”

Your friend laughs so hard she nearly spills her drink. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” you insist, though your heart is pounding for reasons you can’t explain. “It’s written all over his face.”

“But what if it’s not? What if—plot twist—he’s the one that breaks the pattern?”

You hesitate.

“Just swipe,” she pleads. “Worst case, you don’t match and never see him again. Best case…”

You shake your head, but you can already feel yourself giving in. Still, before you can decide, your friend snatches the phone and swipes right with a dramatic flourish.

You gape at her. “Did you just—?!”

“No match,” she says, showing you the screen. “Happy?”

You exhale, weirdly deflated. “Honestly? Yeah. I mean, he’s probably got a million people trying to match with him.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it just wasn’t your moment.”

You nod, lips pressed together as you slide your phone into your bag. “Well, I’m done for the night. I’m going home, washing my face, and watching something stupid.”

She stands with you, grinning. “Good. You deserve to turn your brain off. But hey…” she pauses, her smile softening. “Don’t give up completely, okay? I’ve got a good feeling.”

You roll your eyes but give her a hug goodbye.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

That night, you toss your keys onto your desk, the screen of your phone lighting up just as you’re about to plug it in.

1 New Message - [Tinder]

You frown, opening it automatically, expecting another “hey cutie” from someone who can’t spell your name right.

But the screen shows something else entirely.

You matched with Riki.

Your heart stops.

Your hands go cold.

You blink at the message, then again—just to make sure your eyes aren’t playing tricks.

The same face. The same smirk. The guy who was too good to be true…

Matched with you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

You don’t open the message right away.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re busy—brushing your teeth, feeding the dog, picking at dinner you don’t even taste—but deep down, you know it’s because you’re scared.

You already decided not to get your hopes up again. You’ve already been down this road before—the one where a hot guy matches, flirts, builds you up like you’re the only girl on earth, only to ghost you the second things feel real.

Still.

You tap the app. His message is waiting.

Riki: Thought I was imagining things for a sec. Didn’t expect the girl with the death-glare profile pic to swipe back 😅

Your nose scrunches. Death glare?

You flip to your own profile, stare at the photo your friend picked—half-smiling, eyes a little dead inside.

Okay, fair.

You: Yeah well. Didn’t expect the cocky gamer guy to swipe either. So I guess we’re both glitching tonight. Riki: I’m not cocky. I’m just... factually confident. And good with my thumbs.

You roll your eyes and try not to smile. You fail.

You: That’s exactly something a cocky guy would say. Riki: Damn. She’s clever too. I’m in trouble.

You don’t respond right away. Not because you don’t want to—but because something in your chest tightens at how easy it is. The flow. The banter. Like slipping into an old sweater you forgot still fit.

And somehow, it stays like that.

No “wyd” texts. No pressure. Just long, meandering conversations that start late and end later. You find out he streams sometimes, but only for fun. He has a little sister he’s protective over. He learned to cook because his mom works nights. His favorite genre is horror, but he’s a total baby when it comes to jump scares.

He doesn’t ask for selfies. Doesn’t hint at anything sketchy. In fact, half the time it feels like he genuinely just wants someone to talk to.

Which is kind of nice.

It turns into a rhythm: He messages. You reply. You laugh. You tease. You talk until your phone is warm in your hand and your eyes sting from lack of sleep.

Riki: You’re fun. You: You’re not what I expected. Riki: That’s either the best compliment or a red flag in disguise. You: I’ll let you know which later.

It’s two weeks in when he says it.

You’re half-asleep, curled in bed, squinting at his message through one heavy eyelid.

Riki: Random idea You should come visit sometime

You blink. Sit up a little.

You: …what? Riki: Like, no pressure. Just throwing it out there. I’ll even pay for the flight if it makes it easier.

You stare at your screen like it just called you by your middle name.

You: Uhh. Red flag alert. Guy offering to pay for your flight? That’s how true crime documentaries start. Riki: Rude. I don’t even own duct tape. You: That’s exactly what someone with duct tape would say. Riki: Touché.

You toss your phone onto the bed, pull the blanket over your face, and scream into it.

Then obviously you FaceTime your best friend.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

“You’re being dramatic,” she says, chewing a mouthful of chips. “You two have been talking nonstop for, what, three weeks?”

“Two and a half.”

“Exactly. That’s like, seven months in internet time. Honestly, if you were dating IRL, people would be asking when the wedding is.”

You throw your head back with a groan. “It’s not like that. We’re just… friends. Kind of. With... light sarcasm and subtle tension.”

“So... dating.”

“NO!”

She levels you with a look. “You like him.”

“I like the version of him that lives in my phone. That doesn’t mean he’s real.”

“Then FaceTime him.”

You blink. “What?”

“If you’re nervous he’s not who he says he is, video chat. If he’s a catfish, boom—case closed. If he’s real... then you’ll know.”

You sit with that for a second.

Then you do it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

The first FaceTime is awkward in a cute way. He’s lounging in a hoodie with messy hair and a controller in his lap. You’re in your worst pajama shirt, already regretting not putting on concealer.

But he smiles when he sees you—no hesitation, no filters, no pause.

“Yo,” he says like it’s no big deal.

“You’re real,” you blurt before you can stop yourself.

He laughs. “That’s what I was gonna say.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

One call turns into two.

Two turns into three.

Three turns into four—until it’s a quiet comfort, this unspoken ritual of being online together, even when you’re not talking.

You study. He games. Sometimes he curses under his breath. Sometimes you hum without realizing it. Neither of you hangs up first.

The screen just stays on.

And somewhere between late-night calls and sleepy “goodnights,” it stops feeling like a maybe.

It starts to feel like something real.

One night, while adjusting his mic and opening some game you don’t recognize, he says it again:

“You should come visit.”

This time, it sounds less like a joke.

And more like a hope.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

“You should come visit.”

It’s not the first time he’s said it. 

But this time… it’s different.

His voice is soft through your laptop speaker, his hoodie bunched up around his elbows as he clicks through some loading screen. You’re lying sideways on your bed, textbooks open, highlighter uncapped, but your focus vanished the second he said those four words.

You don’t answer right away. Just chew your lip and stare at the screen where he’s pretending not to look at you.

“That’s like the fifth time you’ve asked”

“I’m serious,” he says after a beat. “I mean… if you want to.”

There’s that voice again. Casual, light, no pressure. Like he’s talking about ordering takeout, not asking you to fly across the country and see if he’s actually the person you’ve been falling asleep on FaceTime with every night.

You close your textbook.

“Riki.”

He glances over. The game’s paused now. You can see the flicker of the screenlight reflected in his cheekbones. He looks tired. Warm. Real.

“Yeah?”

“You’re not like… secretly plotting to harvest my organs, right?”

He snorts. “I literally stream Minecraft, not organ trafficking.”

“Not a convincing alibi.”

He grins, then sobers. “I get it. It’s a big ask. But I meant it when I said I’d help. I’d book the flight. You’d stay at a hotel if you want, no pressure. I wouldn’t be weird.”

“That’s what all the weird ones say.”

“Okay,” he says, deadpan. “I’d be only a little weird. Like, manageable-weird. Charming-weird.”

You laugh, and that’s the problem.

Because you like him. More than you meant to.

You liked the idea of him at first. A distraction. A match your friend forced. But now… it’s not just the banter or the voice you’ve memorized or the ridiculous way he says “dude” when he’s excited.

It’s how he makes you feel like the only person in the room—even through a screen.

And that? That’s dangerous.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

The next day, you bring it up to your best friend over lunch.

Her response is immediate: “You have to go.”

You blink. “Okay, but what if he’s not—”

“You FaceTime him literally every night.”

“What if he’s different in person?”

“He watches K-dramas and talks to your dog through the phone. You already know him better than half the guys you’ve actually dated.”

You stare at your untouched sandwich.

“I just…” You swallow. “What if I go and it ruins it?”

She’s quiet for once.

Then: “What if you don’t… and it ruins you?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

That night, you don’t say yes.

You say, “I’m thinking about it.”

You say, “It’s a maybe.”

And he doesn’t push.

Instead, he smiles at you—gentle and slow, like he knows you’re a scared thing on the edge of something, and he’s not going to rush you off it.

“I can wait,” he says simply.

You believe him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

The next week, something shifts.

Not in a dramatic way—no confessions, no intense moment of clarity—but in all the quiet ways that matter more.

You fall asleep on call, and he whispers, “Goodnight,” like a secret. You wake up to a message from him with a screenshot of a dumb meme he swears “just felt like you.” He starts calling you by your name more, not just your username.

One night, in the middle of a game, he glances at his screen and says, out of nowhere: “Do you always look at me like that?”

You blink. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying not to.”

You don’t have an answer.

So you call again. And again.

By the time it’s the sixth night in a row, you’re not even nervous anymore. You’re just… used to it. Comfortable. You study, he plays. You breathe. He listens.

Sometimes you don’t talk for twenty minutes.

And it feels like home.

That night, he says it again—quieter this time.

“You should come visit.”

And this time… You don’t say no.

You just look at him—pixelated and beautiful—and whisper, “Maybe.”

And he smiles like maybe is everything.

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

It starts with a ticket in your inbox.

No subject line. No message. Just an email that reads:

“Your flight to Seoul has been confirmed.”

You blink.

Then your phone buzzes.

Riki: Don’t panic. You can still say no. I’ll cancel it in a second if you’re uncomfortable. Just… wanted to make it real. In case you say yes.

Your heart is doing weird things.

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard, your thoughts a loud chorus of what ifs and you’re crazy and this boy could be everything or nothing or both.

You: Give me three days. If I don’t back out by then… I’ll go.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You don’t back out.

Your friend screams when you tell her. She helps you pack—overpacks, really—like you’re heading into battle instead of a long weekend. She even shoves a tiny pink can of pepper spray in your purse “just in case he’s secretly a weirdo.”

(You both know he’s not. But still. Pepper spray is ✨ aesthetic ✨.)

The night before the flight, you barely sleep. You FaceTime Riki and end up playing “21 questions” until 2am, your voices slow and sleepy.

“What if it’s weird?” you ask.

“What if it’s not?” he replies.

You hate that that makes you smile.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

At the airport, your nerves riot inside you. The terminal smells like pretzels and nerves and new beginnings.

By the time the plane lands, your hands are cold and your thoughts are loud.

You look around baggage claim, eyes darting.

Then—you see him.

He’s leaning against a pillar, hoodie half-zipped, hair tucked under a black cap. There’s a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He’s scrolling his phone, one hand in his pocket.

He doesn’t see you yet.

And in that second, you think—he looks like trouble. But the good kind.

Then he looks up.

And smiles.

Not the polite kind. Not the awkward oh-hi-nice-to-meet-you kind.

The I know you already kind.

And just like that— You’re not nervous anymore.

The first five minutes are weird.

Of course they are.

You both talk too fast. Or not at all. He goes in for a hug, and you kind of flinch, so he backs off and jokes, “Guess I deserved that.” And you say, “No, I’m just—processing,” and then neither of you talk for five minutes straight in the car.

But then he says, “You hungry?” And you say, “Always.”

And suddenly… you’re fine again.

The first night is a blur of fast food eaten in his car, music playing low, and a midnight walk through a neighborhood you don’t know but don’t mind getting lost in.

At one point, he bumps his shoulder into yours and says, “You’re taller than I expected.”

You deadpan, “You’re not.”

He laughs so hard he nearly drops his drink.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day, you hang out at his place.

He’s more nervous than you’ve ever seen him—rambling about his cable setup, offering snacks every five seconds, adjusting his monitor like he’s auditioning for HGTV.

But you sit on his bed, cross-legged, and just watch.

And after a while, he calms down.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he mumbles.

You shrug. “You’re real.”

He gives you a look. “Still convinced I was a catfish?”

“No,” you say. “But this part still doesn’t feel real.”

He sits beside you. Not touching. Just close.

“Same.”

- - - - - - - - - - - -

At night, you fall asleep on his couch watching him game—your legs draped over his lap, your heart refusing to chill out. You pretend to be tired just to stay where you are.

He doesn’t move.

Just shifts the blanket higher over your knees, one hand resting lightly on your shin. You catch him glance at you once. Twice.

But he never says what you both know.

Not yet.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

And then—on the last night—you’re both lying side by side, watching some movie neither of you are really paying attention to. His fingers are brushing against yours on the bedspread. Barely. But enough.

He turns his head. “Hey.”

You look at him.

He looks nervous.

“Do you ever think… if we’d met in person first, it wouldn’t have worked?”

You blink. “Why?”

“I think I needed to know you before I liked you. Like, for real. The real you.”

You smile. “I was a mess when we met.”

He laughs. “You still are.”

You kick his leg. “Hey.”

He looks at you then—really looks.

“Still the best kind of mess I’ve ever met.”

Your breath catches.

But before either of you can say anything else—your phone buzzes. Loud. Jarring.

You frown and reach for it, expecting your friend checking in.

It’s not.

It’s a direct message request.

From someone you don’t recognize.

And it says:

“You think you’re the only one he’s talking to?”

Your blood goes cold.

You look up.

And Riki—still smiling, still relaxed—doesn’t notice the shift in your face.

Yet.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You read the message again.

“You think you’re the only one he’s talking to?”

The screen blurs. Your chest tightens. The room—warm and dim and full of the scent of Riki’s hoodie you’ve been curled in—suddenly feels foreign. Hollow.

Riki says something beside you. A dumb joke. You don’t hear it.

“Hey.” His voice cuts through. “You okay?”

You lock your phone and force a smile. “Yeah. Just my friend checking in.”

A lie.

You’ve never lied to him before.

It feels worse than the message.

You try to ignore it. Brush it off. A troll. A bot. A jealous girl with no life. Whatever.

But the message festers.

The next day, you wake up to another.

“I hope he told you about me. Or about our FaceTimes.”

You don’t reply. You can’t.

You don’t know what to believe.

So instead, you test him.

“Hey,” you say casually, the next time you’re lying on the couch with him.

“Hmm?” he says, eyes on his screen.

“You ever… talk to other girls on here? Like, before me?”

He pauses. Glances at you. “You mean on Tinder?”

You shrug. “Or in general.”

He leans back. “I mean, yeah. Before you. But nothing like this. Nothing real.”

You nod. Try to smile. But the words loop in your head.

Before you. Before you. Before you.

But what if before never ended?

- - - - - - - - - - - -

By the third message, it’s not subtle anymore.

“He sent me the same flight email. I still have it.” [Attached: a screenshot]

Same subject line. Same dates. Different name.

You feel sick.

You don’t want to accuse him. You don’t want to need to.

So you ask.

“Riki… have you ever done this before?”

He blinks. “Done what?”

“This. Flying someone out. Meeting people from the app.”

There’s a beat.

Then: “Why are you asking?”

He doesn’t deny it.

And that hurts more than any answer.

You go silent.

The car ride back to the hotel is heavy.

He notices. Of course he does.

“Okay,” he says, pulling into the parking lot. “What’s going on?”

You don’t look at him. “Just tired.”

“You’re lying.”

You snap. “So are you.”

He goes quiet.

The kind of quiet that confirms everything.

You swallow. “Someone messaged me. Said you were FaceTiming them. Said you flew them out. Same message. Same dates.”

His jaw tightens. “It’s not what you think.”

You laugh, sharp. “That’s funny, because it looks exactly like what I think.”

Then—softer: “I didn’t expect this to be perfect, Riki. I just didn’t want to be stupid for trusting you.”

He doesn’t say anything.

And that silence? It feels like betrayal.

You go inside the hotel alone.

The second the door closes behind you, you slide to the floor.

You don’t cry. Not yet. You’re not sure you’re allowed to. Not for someone who was never yours.

But your phone buzzes again.

Riki: I didn’t lie. Not about you. Can we talk?

And you don’t know if you’re ready.

But your heart?

It already misses him.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You don’t answer his messages.

Not at first.

Not because you want to punish him—but because you’re scared that if you open the door, you’ll let him talk you back into something that maybe wasn’t even real.

You need space. He gives it to you. For about twelve hours.

Then your phone rings.

It’s your friend.

“You need to check Twitter,” she says.

Your stomach drops. “What?”

“Just… look.”

- - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s a clip.

From one of Riki’s streams.

He’s laughing in it, leaned back in his chair, wearing a hoodie you recognize because you wore it two nights ago.

One of his friends says something off-screen:

“So you’re just gonna disappear for four days and not explain why?”

Riki shrugs. “I’m flying someone out.”

“A girl?”

He grins. “The girl.”

The chat explodes. Emojis. Screaming.

His friend hoots. “You’re in love.”

Riki doesn’t deny it.

Just goes quiet for a second. Then says, low and sure,

“She’s different. You’ll see.”

You stare at the screen.

Your breath stutters.

You scroll down. The comments are a storm. Most of them are pure chaos and ship names and thirsty fans screaming “SOFT LAUNCH???”

But some…

Some are ugly.

And one account keeps showing up.

One you recognize from the message requests.

@ KikiLuvsRiki: don’t fall for his act. i used to be “different” too. he just wants content. @ KikiLuvsRiki: bet he sent her the same flight confirmation template he used last year LMFAO.

Your hands shake.

Then a post from her, timestamped four hours ago:

“Imagine thinking you’re special to someone who rehearsed the same lines with me. He just swapped the name.”

There’s a screenshot attached.

Of a flight confirmation email.

But it’s dated last year.

Same airline. Different destination. Different name.

But the same tone.

You click the profile.

Scroll.

And what you find?

It’s not a random hater.

It’s his ex.

That night, your phone rings again.

Riki.

You don’t want to answer.

You do anyway.

“I should’ve told you,” he says, voice low, rough. “I just didn’t think she’d find out. I didn’t think it would matter.”

You sit on the edge of the hotel bed, silent.

“I mentioned you on stream. I never do that. You know I don’t. And I didn’t even say your name—I was just… talking. I couldn’t help it. I was excited. I’m always careful, but this time I wasn’t.”

“Because of me?”

“Yeah,” he says, barely a whisper. “Because of you.”

Your heart twists.

“She saw the stream,” he adds. “And I guess she still had old screenshots or whatever. She’s not wrong—I flew her out once. A long time ago. We weren’t even a thing for more than a couple weeks, but she stuck around online. And when I stopped responding, she got weird.”

You exhale. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I was scared you’d think I was doing the same thing again. That I was collecting girls off the internet and making them fall for me or something.”

“And aren’t you?” you ask, voice quiet.

Silence.

Then:

“No.” “I wasn’t trying with anyone else.” “I didn’t even plan to swipe on your profile. I saw you, and it just—hit me. Harder than I expected. You weren’t just pretty. You looked real. Like someone I could ruin myself for if I wasn’t careful.”

You bite your lip.

He continues. “I didn’t swipe right first. But when we matched… I knew. I’ve never been like this with anyone else. Not even her.”

Your chest aches.

“But I should’ve told you,” he says. “That’s on me. I’ll make it up to you. Or I won’t. If this ruins it, I’ll live with that. But you deserved the truth.”

You let the silence sit.

It’s not that you don’t believe him.

It’s that you want to.

And maybe that scares you most of all.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The airport feels colder than it should.

Maybe it’s the early flight. Maybe it’s the sleep you didn’t get. Maybe it’s because you thought he’d fight harder.

You roll your suitcase forward.

Every step feels heavier than it should. Like maybe your heart stayed back at the hotel. Or in that voicemail you haven’t listened to yet.

“I get it if you’re done. But I’m not.” “Not with you.”

You clench your jaw. Shake your head. Keep walking.

You did what you were supposed to.

You gave him a chance to explain. You didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. Didn’t make a scene when your feelings got kicked around like some bonus level prize in his online world.

You let him talk.

You just didn’t stay.

Not this time.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Your gate is five minutes away.

You wrap your arms around yourself and try not to think.

The check-in lady takes your ID.

“Round trip?” she asks, typing.

You hesitate. Then shake your head.

“Just one way.”

She nods, unfazed. Prints your ticket.

You turn around—

And nearly crash into him.

Riki. Standing there. Breathless. Hoodie crooked. Hair messy. Like he ran.

And didn’t stop.

You freeze. “What—how did you—?”

“I tracked your flight.” His voice is hoarse. “Don’t be mad.”

You blink. “Are you serious right now?”

He swallows hard. “I wasn’t gonna let you leave thinking I didn’t mean it. That you were just some... random screen name.”

“Riki—”

“No,” he says, stepping closer. “Let me talk. Please.”

Your heart races. Your throat tightens.

He exhales. “I don’t care who’s watching. I don’t care if this is pathetic. I’ve never wanted something like this before. Not like this. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You don’t say anything.

He runs a hand through his hair.

“I messed up,” he says. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve known she'd try something the second I opened up. That’s on me. But don’t let her be the reason we don’t happen.”

You feel the tears sting before they fall.

He sees it.

Softens.

Steps forward like he’s trying not to scare you off.

“I’ve never had what we have,” he whispers. “The FaceTimes. The quiet. The way I don’t need to perform when I’m with you. You didn’t fall for the persona. You fell for me. And I—I need you to know I fell right back.”

You sniff. Wipe your eyes.

“And if that means I have to fly to every city you run to just to say it again, I will.”

You meet his eyes.

“I wanted to believe you,” you say. “I still do.”

“Then do,” he whispers. “Let me prove it.”

You pause.

Search his face.

And for the first time in days, the panic starts to melt. The ache eases.

Not completely. But enough.

You step closer.

And his shoulders drop—like he was holding his breath for too long.

“I hate you,” you whisper.

He smiles.

“No you don’t.”

You shake your head. “I don’t.”

Then, softer: “You’re lucky I like dramatic airport gestures.”

And when you wrap your arms around him, burying your face into the hoodie you never gave back—he just holds you.

Not like he won.

Like he’s grateful you stayed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

BONUS :)

Later, after the flight you didn’t take…

You’re on his stream.

Just your voice.

He reads a question from chat:

“Are you guys together now?”

He looks at you off-camera.

Smiles.

Then to the chat: “She’s sitting right here, isn’t she?”

You groan. “You’re so annoying.”

He grins wider. “But you like me.”

And you don’t deny it.

Not this time.

tl: (read rules before asking to be added to any list ᥫ᭡. )

[mywritersmind]

FOR THE PLOT - KA12

summary : A vacation, perfect timing, and their friends, bring Y/n and Kimi together on a tipsy adrenaline filled night.

listen up : KIMI ANTONELLI X READER! kissing and drinking! my first kimi fic which is super fun to write bc he’s the closest to my age. prob will make more parts!

word count : 1523

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Tan and in a mini dress is all I needed to feel myself again. When my friends said they were spontaneously going to the Maldives, I told them they were crazy and my parents would never go for it. Then they reminded me that I’m an adult and my parents had no choice but to say yes.

I sip on my pina colada, a hand in the air and dancing with my two best friends. Delilah giggles, her braided hair in two thick braids, she looks past me and giggles, “There’s a boy watching you!” A cool breeze blows past us, chilling my skin a bit under the humidity.

I laugh, “Couldn’t have made that less creepy?” Still, I turn around to see a boy indeed watching me. When my eyes meet his, he looks away, talking to his friend before glancing back and smiling softly.

He's cute and I’m surprised I haven’t seen him around the resort until now. He’s got a shorter brunette boy next to him, a tall dark haired boy, and a tall blonde boy dancing up to them with drinks.

I turn back to my friends and laugh, “Dibs on the blonde!” Cara says, pushing her light brown hair over her shoulder while checking the guy out as I laugh and frown down at my drink, empty.

I hop back over to the bar, seeing two of my guy friends, Micha and Jamie both flirting with much older guests. I give them a look to which they both smirk at before ordering another drink.

I hear laughter and what sounds like arguing, turning to see what is happening, I see the two boys pushing the cute curly haired one towards me.

He pushes against them, shaking his head. When he looks up at me and realizes I'm watching, his already burnt cheeks go pinker. “This is Kimi!” The blonde one says, slapping his friend on the shoulder before running off.

“I-” Kimi tugs on the collar of his dark blue button down, “Hi.”

I laugh, finding his awkwardness amusing, “Hi.”

“Sorry about my friends- they act like that a lot… more than you’d think.”

I raise a brow, “Pushing you to go talk to girls?”

He laughs, “Yeah. This is the first time I've actually wanted to, though.” I smile, the bartender handing me another pina colada.

I nod, watching the boy, “I’m Y/n.” He looks relieved when I talk, “I like your accent. Italian?”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/n. And thanks, I am italian!” He leans against the bar, messing up his order but laughing with the bartender. “How long are you here for?”

“Got in like two days ago… I’m here for another two weeks!” He seems to perk up at this.

“I got in today! I’m here for two weeks as well.” He takes his drink and the bartender shoos us away. As Kimi walks next to me, I realize that he’s a good bit taller than me.

As we walk away from the party, I see my friends meeting Kimis, they all see us but I can tell they’re pretending to not watch. I laugh a bit as we walk down the beach.

I find out Kimi is eighteen and I sigh in relief because so am I. “This is my first real trip without my family.” He laughs shyly, “So far it’s looking up.” He glances at me.

“I think this counts as mine too. I mean- I went to Monza for like two days while my friend went to a race but…” I notice him staring at me and stop talking. “You okay?”

“Monza as in the Italian grand prix?”

I nod, “Yeah! Were you there or something? I’m not really into F1 but my best friend is totally obsessed, she’s the brunette back there eyeing your blonde friend.”

He laughs out loud, shaking his head, “Paul? Yeah well I think she will love him when she finds out he’s an F2 driver.”

“No way!” I drink more, “Funny how things like that happen.”

He nods, running a hand through his curls as we step onto the trail of villas that are perched over the water. He invites me to his deck, I can tell that guys are staying here because there’s board shorts, sunscreen, and cups left.

We sit on the sunken couch, I put my legs under me and turn towards him, his arm around the back. “I really like your necklace.” His hand goes to the chain around my neck, a tiny shell and pearl in the middle.

I bite my lip at his closeness, his hand brushing my chest, “Thanks. I make them.” He looks up quickly as I say it.

“Really? That’s insane!” His hand drops and I smile, my cheeks heating and suddenly I'm very thankful for the lack of light.

“I made this one here actually! I do rings and bracelets as well!” I accidentally start rattling on about what I make and he just sits and listens like I've known him for years. I realize what I'm doing and stop suddenly, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for being passionate.” His eyes are beautiful and makes me think this is dangerous. Not being out here with a random guy, but already wanting to kiss him.

His head tilts against his arm, looking up at me with his brown eyes. I have a realization then. It's my last bit of summer, I'm eighteen, I'm alone with my friends, a cute boy is in my grasp.

We sit there for what feels like hours but I'm pretty sure there is only one. He’s so easy to talk to that I don’t know what time it is. I hear the footsteps of people going back to their rooms but after a while, everything is pretty quiet, except for the far away club music at the bar.

I sit up and grin, “Do you wanna go swimming?”

He raises a brow, “Now?”

I glance at the dark water that surrounds us, “Yes!”

That’s how I end up in the private pool that each villa has. It’s lit dimly from above and I'm even more grateful because I'm in my bra and underwear.

For the plot, I remind myself.

Kimi shirtless makes me doing things out of my comfort zone 100% worth it. He’s fucking ripped and I feel my face heating as I eye his abs and arms while he stands outside the water in just boxers. He didn’t change into swimming things because he didn’t want me to feel alone.

He turns around and does a backflip into the water, “Wow!” I laugh, feeling my drinks in me now, “Talented!”

“Ah, love, you have no clue!” He swims towards me, dunking his head and shaking his curls out like a dog. I ignore the nickname and laugh.

“Hey!” I yell, splashing him. He grins at me, his smile is ridiculously attractive.

“You’re cute.” He says quickly, swimming backwards. I laugh and watch him dive under the water.

I feel a hand grasp my ankle and suddenly I'm getting pulled under the water. I kick him and get back to air, laughing so hard that I start to cough.

“Shit are you-” I push him under the water, my hands on his head. We play around, he laughs and splashes me one last time as the back of my head hits the side of the pool.

He floats closer, his hand going to my face scares me at first, but then he softly rubs his thumbs under my eyes, wiping my clearly smudged mascara.

I smile, one hand still on my cheek and the other next to my head, holding himself up. Water is dripping from his curls onto his face but he only seems to notice me.

I bite my lip softly, his eyes going to them. When his eyes meet mine again he starts to speak, “Can I-” I know what he’s going to say.

I kiss him first, my hands on his neck as one of his goes to my waist, holding me up.

He kisses me back immediately, my head hitting the wood behind me and his hand tightening on my waist, slipping down a bit.

The creek of the floors makes us both look up to investigate, the tall brunette from before is like a deer in headlights, “Give a guy some warning!” He says in a British accent.

Kimi just drops his head to my shoulder, shaking it with his eyes squeezed shut, “Ollie!” At the yell, the boy hurries away and Kimi takes a second before looking up at me regretfully, “I’m so sorry.”

I laugh, “Honestly don’t worry.” I pull my hands away from him, “I should go though, need to find my friends.”

His eyes dim a bit but he nods and backs up, “Hey uh- think I can see you tomorrow?”

I step out of the water, stealing a towel and smiling wide with my back facing him. I breathe and turn back to him casually, “If you can find me.”

[pupyuj]

→ “magic words.” || jang wonyoung x reader fic.

— what was supposed to be a simple tutoring session turns into something more when the most popular student in the campus, jang wonyoung, opts to teach you a completely different lesson...

word count: 4.7k.

dynamic: dom!mean girl!jang wonyoung x sub!nerd!virgin!reader.

content warnings: smut, praise kink, mommy kink, overstimulation, semi-exhibitionism, fingering, begging.

requested ? : nope.

a/n: this one has some sort of a plot so it takes a while to get to the smut part,, hope this one was okay! (jang wonyoung pls marry me.)

next: your colorful secrets.

jang wonyoung was late.

you didn’t know why you were even disappointed. what did you expect from someone with her social status? rich, popular, and a bit of a snob… which was why it was a surprise when you managed to convince her to help you study for an english project. you really didn’t know how you did it. when your professor had told you that being aided by someone who was near fluent in the language could help, the only person that came to mind was wonyoung. she studied abroad once, has the top grades in class, and still looked somewhat more approachable than aeri uchinaga (the other student that could’ve helped you).

or maybe it was just your big dumb crush on the campus princess that willed you to talk to her on that miraculous day, but that’s completely unrelated to your current dilemma.

after five more minutes of waiting, you started feel disheartened. what if she was just playing a joke on you? it’s not like wonyoung was an angel; you’ve heard horror stories about some of the fucked up shit she has done in her time in the campus and even before that. so there was definitely a possibility that she tricked you into believing that she was truly into the idea of spending time with who was essentially a nobody, like you.

ten minutes passed, now you were just really, really sad. but your pride was too big, you didn’t want to walk out of that room looking heartbroken. what if wonyoung and her douchebag friends were waiting on the other side to laugh at you? you shuddered at the idea. you already face so much humiliation and scrutiny from being different than everyone else in this school when really they should be all like you: hardworking, passionate, and actually try to give a fuck about their studies instead of just partying every weekend.

twenty minutes later, well — you were nearly passed out. you rested your head on your arms, blinking sleepily at the lights that you dimmed slightly earlier. you decided that you were going to take a short nap, and then you’ll get to work on your own. screw wonyoung and her joke promises. you were hoping that the rumors weren’t true, that people just made them up because they were jealous of her and her money, her brains, and that pretty little face and those beauty marks and those unnecessarily attractive slender fingers. but she really is just like everyone else.

needless to say, you fell asleep. and you don’t exactly know for how long, because when you were shaken awake by someone, your head was seemingly in another dimension. you lifted your head from your arms and yawned softly, earning a laugh from whoever it was that woke you up. you rubbed your eyes, blinked, and tried to identify the person standing by the side of your desk and— oh, shit.

“w-wonyoung?” you asked with your eyes wide, staring at the tall, gorgeous girl clad in expensive attire that smiled down at you. were you dreaming about her again?

“the one and only,” jang wonyoung takes off her jacket and folds it neatly, putting it on one of the unoccupied seats across the table. “i know i’m super late. i had to find a real reason to come here other than, you know, just for shits and giggles. you should thank gaeul-sunbae for talking some sense into me.” oh. she couldn’t have said that in a nicer way?

“okay…” you murmured, nervously picking on the lint on your clothes for no reason.

wonyoung settles herself beside you, sipping on a cup of iced coffee. she slides a full cup to your side of the table, “that should wake you up.”

“you didn’t have to get me one…” you replied timidly but accepting the cup nonetheless.

“oh, i didn’t. gaeul-sunbae got that for you and told me to give it to you because apparently, it was the least i could do for making you wait for over an hour. huh,” wonyoung puts down her cup, leaned back on her chair, and looked at you, smirking. you tried your hardest not to blush at the way her eyes completely raked over your figure. you shifted uncomfortably on your seat, suddenly finding your skirt too short or your uniform too tight. “maybe she has a crush on you. ha! well, that’s quite a jump. from that hot soccer captain in that other university, ahn yujin-ssi, to you.” wonyoung giggles.

god, really? you held back the urge to groan, or roll your eyes, and just smiled awkwardly at her. you were seriously regretting having that dumb crush on her. she was pretty, but her mouth and the things that come out of it made it hard to truly like her.

“i doubt that…” you said, picking up your pen and opening up a novel. the very same novel you had a hard time understanding, and the very same novel that you hoped wonyoung would help you understand but that didn’t seem likely now. seeing that all she wants to do is insult you.

wonyoung doesn’t say anything else, merely fishing out her phone from her bag and silently scrolling up, completely forgetting the reason she was here in the first place. you sighed, tired eyes skimming through the words in your novel. every single word you read just went over your head, and you really hoped wonyoung would notice how helpless you looked but she was… well, she was taking photos of herself. you took your eyes off your novel to do nothing but stare at her. truthfully, you would also drop everything to take photos of yourself if you were wonyoung because she did look particularly good in this day.

“why do you even need me? you’re supposed to be super smart. aren’t you on scholarship at this school?” wonyoung suddenly asked while still posing. you flinched, immediately turning back on your novel in hopes that wonyoung wouldn’t know that you have been staring this entire time. 

(she did. but whatever. everybody stares at her.)

“t-that’s exactly why i need you, though,” you said. wonyoung chuckles. you blushed at what your words may have implied. “i want to keep that scholarship, but i-i’m not that very good at english and you’re… you’re great so i thought you could help…”

wonyoung closes her phone and puts it down, “well, aren’t you adorable. i kinda get why gaeul-sunbae is obsessed with you. don’t tell her i said that.” were you some kind of inside joke between her and gaeul or something? you doubted that the popular senior actually gave a damn about you, so maybe wonyoung was just pulling words out of her perfectly fine ass.

you really needed to stop talking like that.

“don’t start crying now. i’ll help.” wonyoung brings her chair closer to yours. maybe a bit too close for your liking, but her perfume calmed your senses so you appreciated the lack of respectable distance nonetheless. she takes your novel from your hands and without a word, she examines it. the front cover, the back, the first few pages, and the chapter you were reading. you watched intently as she did her work, and you couldn’t hold back squirming in your seat because of course jang wonyoung looks fucking hot when she starts taking things seriously.

her eyes flicker back onto yours and she catches you staring. you didn’t even make an effort to look away. it was too late anyway. wonyoung wordlessly stared back at you, eyes completely devoid of emotion so you couldn’t tell whether she was annoyed of you for staring or not.

“this isn’t what we’re studying in class.” wonyoung said.

“n-no. i’m reading it for myself. i want to write a thesis on it.”

“a what? so, you’re saying you’re doing this for fun? you have that much time?” wonyoung looks at you in disbelief. she puts down your book, almost offended at this reveal.

“that’s how i study. if i can’t prove to myself that i understand whatever i’m doing then i pretty much failed at that subject.” you confessed.

wonyoung groans, throwing her head back. you stared shamelessly at the curve of her neck, and had this sudden urge to kiss her. what the fuck. “i thought you were going to write a dissertation with how you made this whole thing sound so urgent yesterday. turns out it’s just a cute little project, and for yourself! you’re wasting my time, you know.” the tall girl said.

again, you felt sad. you grabbed the book from her side of the table and pouted as you looked at the cover, “w-well, you’re free to leave if that’s what you think…”

“you won’t cry?” wonyoung asked. you took note of the teasing evident in her voice and rolled your eyes.

“why would i—”

you looked at her and found your words getting stuck to your throat. it was weird, because wonyoung was literally just sitting there and yet she looked so… there's really no other way to put it in your lovesick little head. wonyoung looked regal. arms crossed, sly smile, eyes shining with mischief, and one long leg crossed over the other, hiking up her skirt just a little. you immediately looked away, but you were too late. wonyoung knew exactly where you were looking at.

“oh, i see,” wonyoung giggles and leaned forward, propping her arm up on the table and putting her chin on her palm. you avoided her stare, but you couldn't hide your red ears. “gaeul-sunbae’s gonna be really disappointed to hear about this.”

“please, stop with that. gaeul-sunbaenim is not interested in me.” you say in an attempt to divert her attention.

well, much to your dismay, wonyoung wouldn’t let up just like that. she completely disregards what you were saying. “i guess you’re kinda cute. in an almost pitiful way.” she says, eyes examining your features way too intently. “intelligent, decent, and you don’t dress that bad…” the tall girl continues on, taking note of the accessories you have on your wrists, neck, and hair.

you really didn’t know if she expected you to thank her.

“i’d say innocent too, but that's not all true, is it?” wonyoung moves closer, her perfume once again wafting into your nose and nearly intoxicating you. she places a pretty hand on your thigh, smirking at the way you flinched and hid behind your book. “since i’ve lost interest in whatever you actually want to do, how about we do something that’s actually worth my time?” she says, prying your book off of your hands and putting it on the table.

“i-i can’t skip classes. i was serious when i told you that i want to keep my scholarship—”

“don’t worry. you won’t be stepping a foot outside of your beloved school for this activity.”

see, there were a lot of things that you didn’t believe were true in the world. one of them being your brother allegedly not being free earlier this morning to give you a ride to school because he had something important to do, when you knew he just wanted to play video games until he had to leave for his classes. and now, you have something you can add on the list: jang wonyoung kissing you.

you were waiting to be woken up again, convinced that this was all just a very detailed and prolonged dream. but wonyoung bites your lower lip and nothing happens. other than you moaning softly, obviously.

“i knew you’d like this.” wonyoung mutters before grabbing you by your necktie and pulling you closer. her tongue tasted like coffee, mint, and peaches, and her lips were so, so soft. you were on cloud nine; how many people can say their totally unattainable crush kissed them first?

still, despite liking wonyoung’s lips and the warm feeling on your chest, you couldn’t help but gasp and move away once her hand squeezed your breast.

“what?” wonyoung asked, a bit annoyed.

“w-what are you doing?” you asked back, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“...trying to fuck you? i don’t understand what was so misleading about my intent there.” wonyoung says, looking at you like you were the crazy one.

“how is sex so casual to you and your friends…?” you mumbled. you said all that but the thought of wonyoung touching you like that made you feel certain things in your lower region that you really did not want to know about. or maybe you did, but you were just terrified.

wonyoung, utterly confused, quirked up an eyebrow. “why wouldn’t it be to you? wait,” the tall girl takes another second to look at your bright red cheeks, and the way you squeezed your thighs together presumably to calm that feeling in your core. and then she laughs. “of fucking course, you’re a virgin.”

having your crush find out that you haven’t been touched all your life and laugh at your face about it was not in your bingo card.

“that’s putting it lightly… you’re even my first kiss.” you admitted. you absentmindedly touched your lips with your fingers, smiling as you remembered the way wonyoung’s felt when she had been kissing you.

the tall girl stares at you, there was a softer look in her eyes that made you melt. “ugh, you really are fucking cute. you’re making me feel really bad about poking fun at you earlier.” (and that was definitely new. jang wonyoung never feels bad.)

you shrugged, simply accepting that that was her personality, as brutally honest as she was. you started packing up your things half-heartedly after minutes of silence. a part of you was mad at yourself for cutting off that kiss earlier. maybe you would still be kissing wonyoung right now if you hadn’t stopped her, or maybe you’d be doing something more.

“where are you going?” wonyoung asked, looking up at you since you were now standing.

you pulled at your uniform, “y-you said this was a waste of your time so… i think i’ll just study on my own. t-thank you, though. for the coffee and… that other thing.”

just as you made a step towards the door, wonyoung stands up and catches your wrist in a tight grip. “you’re killing me, (y/n).” wonyoung muttered. she pulls you close, which causes you to drop your bag to the ground and nearly crash into her.

“because you’ve somehow managed to make me feel soft inside, you’re getting laid.”

“i’m getting what—”

“i’m gonna fuck you, (y/n). seriously, what era are you from?”

and with that, wonyoung kisses you again. she wasn’t as gentle as before. her hands were on your hair, tugging and pulling. you didn’t know where to put your hands exactly, but wonyoung noticed this somehow took one of your hands with her own and placed it on her hip. you tried to keep up with her as much as you could, not at all aware of how messy you really were with the way you kissed.

unsurprisingly, wonyoung was annoyed at this and pulled away, “this isn’t a slobbering competition. can you calm down?” she says.

“i can’t. i really like you—”

“fuck. you’re pathetic.” she kisses you again, and you really didn’t know if you should have felt insulted or flattered. a part of you wanted to see how far you could go, this was a once in a lifetime kind of thing after all, so this time around you actually tried kissing her better. wonyoung moves, she’s got your lower back pressed against the desk and her hands on either side of you while you hold her face. she lets you control the kiss, smiling slightly since she found you so, so endearing.

wonyoung sneaks a leg in between your thighs and presses her knee against your buzzing core, making you moan into her mouth. she takes off your school-issued blazer and throws it mindlessly in some unknown corner, then she takes your necktie and slowly tugs you towards the small couch in the room, all while keeping her lips on yours. she unfortunately breaks the kiss and sat down on the soft cushion, leaving you standing in front of her, confused and out of breath.

wonyoung leans back on the couch, smirking, “come on, baby. give me a show.”

you didn’t know what she meant, and you were too afraid of turning her off by asking. but by the way she licked her lips as her eyes scanned you up and down, you just did the next best thing you could’ve thought of doing. you pulled off your necktie and you must’ve done something right because wonyoung’s smirk only widened, urging you to continue on undressing yourself. next, you started unbuttoning your white shirt, revealing your silky cream-colored bra. and finally, you pulled off your panties, just so you wouldn’t have a hard time doing it later.

wonyoung was more of an open book than you expected because it was quite easy to tell that she really like what she was seeing.

patting her lap, wonyoung beckons you over, “sit.” she said. you let your shirt fall to the floor and did as you were told, settling yourself on the taller girl’s lap. you shuddered at the feeling of her thigh against your bare cunt, and fought the urge to ride her.

“it’s always the quiet and nerdy girls like you, hm? hiding all of this behind a book and some straight A’s…” wonyoung’s pretty hands explore your body; from your back, your chest, your stomach, and to your thighs. she enjoyed the way you shivered and slightly moved yourself, desperate for some friction in that area. she plants a small kiss on your collarbone before smiling up at you and attacking your neck. she sneaks a hand underneath your skirt and palms your dripping pussy, her long fingers parting your folds and her thumb just barely brushing your clit.

your soft moans filled the air as wonyoung marks you up. she favored your chest, leaving hickies all over it. she leans back, staring at her work proudly. you took her face in your hands, tilting her head up slightly and then putting your lips on hers. you could feel her smiling as she kissed you back. she found your enthusiasm entertaining, but she was glad she wouldn’t have to do all the work. you boldly pushed your tongue past her parted lips, bravely exploring her mouth. your heart starts beating erratically upon hearing wonyoung’s muffled moans. her voice was so pretty.

suddenly, wonyoung inserts a finger knuckle deep inside you, making you gasp into her mouth and pull away from her lips. the tall girl laughed, “that caught you off guard?” as if she wasn’t looking directly at your widened eyes and gaping mouth. wonyoung pulls her single finger out slowly and pushes it back in, watching as your face contorted from the tiniest bit of pain you were feeling.

“one more?” she asks, but she doesn’t give you a chance to reply and goes ahead and inserts a second finger, making you whine and hug her. wonyoung giggles against your chest as she quickens her pace, relishing in the feeling of her fingers smoothly going in and out of you. the pain was quick to go away, and soon enough you only felt pleasure.

“you’re so tight, baby,” wonyoung wraps her free arm around your waist to keep you steady. she curls her fingers inside you and you moan loudly in her ear. “i’m glad i got to you first. i guarantee you nobody else can fuck a pretty little thing like you as good as i can.”

wonyoung looks up, staring at your features while you try to keep yourself as quiet as you can. the walls weren’t soundproof after all, and the librarian could very well just open the door and invite herself in to check on the students occupying the room. upon realizing this, you threw a quick glance at the door, worried out of your mind. wonyoung notices and gives you a kiss on the cheek to grab your attention, and she was successful.

“nobody will care. plus, you’re with me. you’ll be fine,” she said. she holds onto your waist tighter as she moves her fingers even faster. you clutched onto her shirt, biting your lip but unsuccessfully holding your moans back. “be as loud as you want, baby. let this whole school know who’s fucking you.”

wonyoung couldn’t even begin to tell you how turned on she was right now. you were falling apart before her eyes, the prim and proper (y/n) (l/n) being reduced to this… and knowing that it was all for her… wonyoung doesn’t know if she could hold herself back from completely ruining you on the spot.

“mmhn… ahh— mommy..! mommyy…”

well, shit.

wonyoung was pleasantly surprised. she chuckles, “what? say that again, love.”

you shook your head, embarrassed. “it… it just—fuck—it just slipped out.. i’m sorry…”

wonyoung presses her thumb on your clit and rubs it roughly, “say it.” you whined loudly. that felt too good.

blinded by pleasure, you fulfill wonyoung’s wish. “m-mommy… mommy, ruin me, please…!” you started moving your hips, meeting wonyoung’s thrusts and somehow it made everything feel better by about a hundred percent.

wonyoung was considerably happy. “good girl. can you take one more?” again, she asks but she doesn’t wait for you to answer. now three of her long fingers were inside you, just completely pounding into you mercilessly. the tall girl watched as you basically fucked yourself into her hand. shit, she could cum by the sight of you alone. you were even more beautiful when you were a mess… wonyoung has to fuck you more after this.

“this is a better look for you… none of that honor student bullshit. don’t you like being fucked stupid like this?” wonyoung says, once again curling her fingers and smirking as you throw your head back in pleasure.

you managed to choke out an answer. “yes, mommy… i do, i do…”

never in your life did you ever expect to be calling your crush, the untouchable jang wonyoung no less, such a nickname and even more so, getting fucked by her in a semi-public setting! you were sure to get weird looks from people who might be outside, and the news will spread like wildfire of course but you didn’t care for any of that. not right now, at least. because why else would you think of anything but the girl who was taking you to the stars?

“feels good, yeah? want more, baby?” wonyoung was saying. she herself was getting her panties soaked the faster you were riding her fingers, but she was going to have to take care of her own problem later. she couldn’t take her eyes off of you, after all.

“mmhn.. more…”

wonyoung clicks her tongue, “magic words.” she brings her hand down to your ass, making you whine.

you immediately comply — you were chasing after something that was unknown to you, but you desperately wanted it. and you knew only wonyoung can help you get there. “p-please, mommy… i want more…” you said, looking directly into wonyoung’s eyes and watching as her pink and plump pillowy-soft lips spread into a satisfied smile.

“mhm. you learn quickly, don’t you? what a good girl.”

fucking hell. did everything that came out of her mouth have to sound so hot?

as promised, wonyoung gives you ‘more’. she shifts herself slightly up on her seat, holds your waist in a death grip and whispers, “put your arms around me.” then, she pulls her long fingers out almost all the way before plunging their full length back inside you, deeper than it has ever gone. the sound that left your mouth loud, dirty, and wonyoung could hear the pain beneath all pleasure. 

she repeats her action, and you finally understood why she told you to hold onto her because holy fuck you were going to fall off her lap. you wrapped your arms around wonyoung’s neck and held her close, screaming into her ear every time she brushes past your sweet spot.

“w-wony.. wonyoung— mommy..! i feel weird… i feel weird, i feel weird…!!”

“shh, shh, it’s okay. it’s supposed to feel like that,” wonyoung starts kissing up your neck again, stopping directly under your jawline and leaving another hickey there. “you’re doing so good, baby. we’re almost done. just hold on for mommy, ‘kay?” she pats your ass, gently rubbing on it to ease the sting that her slap left earlier.

you shook your head, “i c-can’t… stop, stop… please..!” you were feeling too many things at once. you wanted whatever this was all leading up to but it was overwhelming. you wanted it to be over but you wanted to prove something to wonyoung, as if ‘holding on’ for longer like she asked would get you a medal from her or something.

“okay, okay… let go, then. it’s okay…”

wonyoung hits a spot and unexpectedly, the pressure in your stomach tightens and breaks in a second. your entire body stiffened as you came undone on wonyoung’s hand with a long, loud moan mixed with a sob. wonyoung shushes you gently, using her free hand to caress your back. she pulls out her other hand from your cunt, it was completely drenched with your juices.

you leaned back after getting a hold of yourself, albeit only a little, and watched as wonyoung licked her fingers. fuck. what you would give to engrave that moment in your mind.

“feeling alright?” wonyoung asked, brushing your damp hair away from your face with her dry hand. you looked exhausted and fucked out. it was hot. wonyoung’s core was throbbing like crazy. she wanted to get off to you so bad. you nodded weakly at her question, even though you didn’t look and feel ‘okay’. you were feeling a lot of fucking things, that’s what.

“t-thank you…” you said suddenly.

wonyoung tilts her head to the side, “for what?” seriously, you were so cute. with your flushed cheeks, eyes glistening with tears, and hair a big mess.

“...you know what for.” you mumbled, hiding your face in the crook of her neck. wonyoung laughs—music to your ears—and pulls you close by your waist, hugging you and kissing your bare shoulder.

the two of you stayed like that for a while, neither of you saying anything for god knows how long. you would ocassionally lift your head and wonyoung would kiss you, then softly asking if you were okay, or if you needed anything. sometimes, she just looked at you, tugging at your heartstrings and making you wonder just what she was thinking. (‘how come i have never seen you before?’)

eventually, however, it was time for both of you to leave as you had some actual studying to do and wonyoung, well, she has a party to attend. typical.

“hey, i’m giving you my number.” wonyoung says when you finally managed to make yourself look tidy and somewhat presentable. you knew that hickies were all over your neck, but you were too tired to lose your head over them.

“uh, why?” you asked, reluctantly pulling out your phone but not handing it over just yet.

“oh, no reason. i give my number away for free. it’s a thing i do.” wonyoung replies in an exaggerated tone. she snatches your phone from your hands, rolling her eyes at your apparently ridiculous question. her actions reminded you that yes, wonyoung will always be a snob through and through. even after giving you the best fuck of your life.

“ha ha.” you laughed sarcastically. you barely caught your phone when wonyoung mindlessly dropped it on your hands in retaliation. you weren’t going to lie though, having your crush put her number on your phone was a dream come true. you looked at your screen, ready to send wonyoung a quick message so she can save your number when you noticed the name she gave herself.

mommy💘

before you could say anything, wonyoung puts a single finger on your lips and winks, “call me when you need ‘help’ again, baby.”

[baddestbittyontheblock]

tasm!peter parker fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

「❀」 earn it. by @3vergr3en fem!reader x tasm!peter parker | smut with little plot (public sex, unprotected sex (PLEASE WRAP IT), nipple play, orgasm control, peter has an obvious breeding kink, cream pie, choking, teasing, profanity, name-calling, humiliation, dirty talk, jealousy, established marriage.), 2.9K

-harry is hosting a birthday party for his best friend, peter. Everything runs smoothly until y/n’s best friend back in high school shows up and start flirting with the female. oblivious y/n doesn’t think much of it, being used to such playful manner. but peter can see through the man’s facade, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

「❀」 needy by @webslingingslasher tasm!peter parker x reader | angst

-peter parker and reader getting into an argument based off of peter parker saying something to his friends behind readers back about reader that hurts her feelings

「❀」 “stop it you’re being mean” by ^ tasm!peter parker x reader

-“If we’re really being honest here, honey, I don’t think that’s what it’s about, at all.”

「❀」 changed the wording around, still fits. by ^ tasm!peter parker x reader

-"why do you seem upset?" "why the hell do you think..."

「❀」 want you to be okay by @lovelyspooks tasm!peter parker x reader | fluff (at the start) but then angst with no comfort, uncommunicated feelings, 1.6k

-you're peter parkers main priority, he makes sure you know that but lately you feel second best to the city you both love

「❀」 smut blurb by @berrieluv peter parker x reader | mentions of sex

-peter and reader r having sex and he's really rough but at some point he hurts her bc of his powers he got after the spider bite. and then he just takes care of her and its cute and soft

「❀」 in the real world by @luveline tasm!peter parker x fem!reader | canon typical violence, bleeding, swearing, fluff, angst, hospitals, mutual pining, idiots in love, fem!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, 5.4k

-you notice something about spider-man during a violent villain showdown, then you have to save his life.

「❀」 drunk!peter mini fic by ^ tasm!peter parker x reader

-drunk!peter and he’s all over reader telling her how he wants to marry her and being handsy

「❀」 honeybody by ^ tasm!peter parker x reader | fluff, friendship, idiots in love, falling in love, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, intimacy, the intangible breadth of the human experience or something similar, mentioned/implied past self-harm, 12k

-something about music makes you desperate to feel it. something about peter, pretty and magnetic and light, multiplies this immeasurably. or, you and peter want to try everything

「❀」 frat!peter by @withahappyrefrain frat!tasm!peter parker x reader | 18+

-frat!peter going from feral sex beast to passionate youre the only person that matter to me sex

「❀」 3 is the magic number by ^ tasm!peter parker x reader | smut (strong breeding kink, soft dom Peter, overstimulation, creampies, daddy kink, choking, did I mention breeding kink? also peter having baby fever.)

-you and peter decide it's time to start trying to expand your family

「❀」 peter mini fic by @bruisedboys tasm!peter x shy!fem!reader | 0.7k

-peter gets really excited for you when you do things for yourself like a dork. like ordering for yourself or asking for help at the stores finding something. it’s so basic but peter knows you struggle so he just gets really excited 4 u

「❀」 min peter fic by ^ tasm!peter x clumsy!reader | 0.7k

-you’re still in the process of patching yourself up when peter gets home, your knees scraped and a box of big band-aids waiting for you on the coffee table.

「❀」 tequila makes me sleepy by @cosmal tasm!peter parker x fem!afab!reader | drunk!reader, mentions of gross guys sexualizing reader

-pete comes to find you at a party after you call him.

「❀」 your girl by @lanadelreyscokewhor3 boyfriend! teter x girlfriend! reader | some swearing, and vomiting ofc. but petnames and lots of fluff:))

-“m’peter i’m done. no more.” you moaned, your body feeling weak and achey as you leaned against your forehead against the toilet seat.

「❀」 boyfriend! peter thoughts by ^ tasm!peter parker x reader

-always sitting on his lap. always. whenever you’re in his room and he’s at his desk doing work he pats his knee and you trot over and sit on his knee and he bounces it slightly while he explains his work while you just listen and nod

「❀」 ridiculous by @peterthepark tasm!peter parker x f!reader | 18+ graphic smut, not much plot, nsfw brainrot, blonde and fratboy peter parker, unprotected sex, kinda public sex, bathroom sex, mentions of smoking and party drugs, swearing as always

-peter parker was ridiculous, especially with that new hair of his. but deep down, you wanted nothing more than to experience one night with the douchebag of a blonde.

「❀」 extremely ridiculous by ^ tasm!peter parker x f!reader | smut (18+ graphic smut, rough sex, dirty talk, religious themes, partie, nsfw brainrot, blond peter parker, unprotected sex, mentions of smoking and alcohol consumption, swearing, sexualized halloween costumes, daddy kink, some roleplay, fingering, oral sex, slapping and pain kink, mentions of anal, just pure filth with 9k)

-ever since the bathroom incident, you’re the first person that peter parker looks for in every party. halloween is sinful, but so is the way you look at him from across the room. recommend reading the first part

「❀」 smut blurb by ^ tasm!peter parker x reader | graphic smut and stuff

-peter uses his webs to keep you still during sex

「❀」 peter parker imagine by @mareagirls  tasm!peter parker x reader

-peter and reader are on a date, but reader feels nauseous. but, reader doesn’t want to tell peter because a: they’ve both been super busy lately between spider-man duties and college and/or work and b: because even if reader won’t admit it, being vulnerable and being taken care of kind of scares them. but peter finds out/figured it out and wants to help and fluff ensues.

「❀」 i say i hate you with a smile on my face by @stylesparker college!tasm!peter parker x fem!reader | 4k

-peter is fairly certain he should not have come to this party. the “friend” that he came with from one of his classes, he doesn’t exactly remember which one, ditched him as soon as they got to the door.

「❀」 kiss me more by @spidernerdsblog tasm!peter parker x reader | 18+, smut, minors dni, 69 (m & f receiving)

-your dad is the chief of NYPD and isn't fond of your boyfriend's secret alias spiderman but that doesn't stop him from sneaking into your room at night for a few kisses and a little more.

「❀」 morning after by ^ peter parker x stark!reader | 18+, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

-last night after a drunk hookup you and peter aren't quite sure you used protection or not.

「❀」 size issues by ^ tasm!peter parker x reader

-you prank your husband by getting the wrong size of bra just to see his reaction.

「❀」 i'll crawl home to her by @embrassemoi  tasm!peter parker x f!reader | 18+, fluff, nsfw, oral (m), light sub/dom, soft smut, mentions of violence, injuries + blood, thigh riding, cleaning wounds, bit of plot (?)

-After a long day, all Peter wants is a bit of love and someone to take care of him.

[nickeverdeen]

Request: Imagine of Ekko x Reader from "Unmasking the Introvert" celebrating Christmas together.

Let's say the firelights are having a Christmas party with a lot going on. Reader is pretty overwhelmed and sneaks out by themselves. Ekko finds them and they decide to go somewhere secret and spend the rest of the Christmas party together.

PS: Reader gives Ekko a Christmas gift, which is a mechanical recreation of an extinct animal. If you want, you can have Ekko gift Reader something too, but you can decide what it is

Unmasking the Introvert pt. 2 | Ekko x gn!reader

Pairings: Ekko x reader (romantic)

Type of fic: Comfort

Warnings: Overwhelmation

Summary: Considering crowds are not your thing you decide to sneak out during Christmas party and Ekko leads you somewhere private and calm

—————————

The Firelights’ Christmas party was, in a word, chaotic.

The small base was packed, glowing with string lights and filled with laughter, music, and the clatter of mismatched cups against makeshift tables. Everyone was in high spirits, and the energy was contagious—if not a little overwhelming.

For you, it was a lot to take in. Crowds weren’t really your thing, and while you appreciated the festive atmosphere, the constant noise and mingling left you feeling drained. You’d smiled politely, nodded in the right places, and exchanged a few awkward greetings, but it wasn’t long before you slipped away, seeking solace in the quiet corners of the base.

You found yourself in an old, empty corridor, the faint hum of the party muffled behind walls and doors. Leaning against the cool brick, you exhaled deeply, letting the tension in your shoulders ease. Finally, some peace.

But of course, Ekko found you.

“Thought I’d find you out here,” he said, his voice warm and teasing as he stepped into view. His painted face gleamed faintly in the dim light, and the ever-present smirk on his lips softened when he saw you.

You stiffened instinctively but relaxed when you realized it was just him. “Party’s… a bit much,” you muttered, glancing down and fiddling with the cuffs of your jacket.

He chuckled, leaning against the wall next to you. “Yeah, I get it. It’s not really your thing, huh?”

You shook your head, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at your lips. “Not really. Too loud, too many people. And I’m not great at… y’know, talking to them.”

“Yeah, you’re a real people person,” he teased lightly, nudging you with his elbow. “Kinda scary, too. Like, you had some of the Firelights convinced you were plotting their demise when you showed up.”

Your cheeks heated, and you groaned. “I’m not scary.”

“You look scary,” he corrected, grinning now. “But I know better.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. Ekko always had a way of seeing through your tough exterior. He knew you weren’t cold or intimidating—just awkward. And, well, maybe a little weird.

“C’mon,” he said suddenly, straightening up and offering you his hand. “I know a better spot. Just you and me. Deal?”

You hesitated for a moment but eventually took his hand, letting him lead you through the twisting halls of the base.

The “better spot” turned out to be a small rooftop nook overlooking Zaun’s skyline. It was quieter up here, the air crisp and cool, with the faint glow of holiday lights twinkling in the distance.

Ekko settled down on a makeshift bench and patted the space next to him. You joined him, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself as you gazed out at the view.

For a while, the two of you sat in companionable silence. It was easy with Ekko—he never pressured you to talk, never made you feel awkward for being awkward.

Eventually, you reached into your bag, pulling out a small box and handing it to him. “Here. Uh… Merry Christmas?”

He blinked in surprise but quickly grinned, taking the box from you. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to,” you said, your voice quieter now. “I… made it.”

He opened the box carefully, his eyes widening as he revealed a mechanical recreation of a dodo bird. Its tiny wings flapped when he pressed a small button on its side, and it emitted a soft, whimsical chirp.

“This is…” He trailed off, clearly at a loss for words. “This is amazing. You made this?”

You nodded, your fingers twitching with nervous energy. “Thought it’d be cool to… you know, bring one back. Kinda.”

Ekko looked at you like you’d just handed him the world. “This is incredible. Thank you.”

He set the dodo carefully on the bench and pulled something out of his pocket—a small, intricately carved wooden charm shaped like a firefly. He handed it to you, his cheeks tinged pink.

“It’s not as fancy as yours,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I thought you might like it. Made it a while ago.”

You took the charm, your fingers brushing against his as you held it up to the light. It was simple but beautiful, the kind of thing you’d treasure forever.

“I love it,” you said softly, a genuine smile breaking through your usually serious demeanor. “Thank you.”

Ekko’s grin widened, and for the rest of the night, the two of you stayed up there, talking about everything and nothing. He listened intently as you rambled about extinct animals and whatever else came to mind, his laughter echoing in the quiet night whenever you made an awkward joke or got overly excited.

By the time the stars faded and the city below began to stir, you realized something: maybe crowds weren’t your thing, but this—being here with Ekko—was exactly where you wanted to be.

[cookiebelle]

Me Fui de Vacaciones • Damian Priest x AFAB reader

Warnings • 2nd person pov (no use of y/n), reader is Afab but I did my best to be as inclusive and nondescript as possible

Smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected PIV sex, oral (m receiving), names (Gatita, baby, you get it), some extremely light kink (spanking, biting, choking, hair pulling), lil bit of Sir kink, size kink sort of, exactly two uses of the word “whore”, porn with an unnecessary amount of plot, tropes galore, idiots to lovers requires its own warning, bad Spanish translations probably.

Word Count • 6.2k words, I have no reasonable explanation for this.

A/N • This should go without saying, but I’m gonna say it anyway. This is a wrestling fic, featuring wrestlers. While wrestlers are indeed real people with real lives, they are also playing characters. The people mentioned in this fic are their characters, and in no way am I depicting the individuals who portray them.

Burning logs crackled. One. Two. Three beers became five. Your feet dug into soft, cool sand as you and your closest friends talked around a fire.

It was the beginning of a well deserved mini-vacation, and the five of you weren’t intending to waste a moment of it. So when you all arrived at the little beach cottage you had rented, even at nearly midnight, you were hell bent on getting the most of your time off. So the fire was built, drinks were passed around, and laughter carried across the beach.

Most people called your friends “The Judgment Day”. You just called them family, though. You had met Damian first, in 2020, the near end of his NXT career marking your beginning. He quickly became your mentor as you navigated the tribulations of what it meant to work for the company, a true friend among those who looked at you only as competition. Later, he introduced you to Rhea. Then the faction formed, and Finn joined the circle, then Dom. Your call up to the main roster occurred shortly after, during the draft. The celebration that ensued when you learned you would be working with the rest of the crew was legendary. These, truly, were your people.

And then there you were, a year later, feet in the sand. You played a light tune on your guitar as though it were the backing score to Bálor’s story, leaving the group captivated. Well, everyone but you. You were looking up at the stars, taking it all in, wondering how you could possibly be so lucky. You decided not to tempt fate by asking the universe that very question, but it seemed fate had its own ideas for this week.

“You good?”

Rhea’s voice pulled you from your daydream and all at once, everyone was looking at you. You realized, in your deep state of thought, your random plucking at the guitar had faded to nothing.

“So good…” you grinned, slurring slightly, at which the group chuckled and carried on with their conversations. Crisis averted. At least you thought. Damian’s gaze lingered on you when you looked back down at the frets of your guitar, but you didn’t seem to notice.

It was a drunken stumble back to the house, sometime around 3AM, everyone finally exhausted enough to end the day and refresh themselves for the next. Except you. As they all said their goodnights and retired to their respective rooms, you found yourself on the couch, unable to sleep and watching reruns of the same sitcoms you had seen a hundred times.

—————

“Hey… Hey you…”

You felt something… poking you?

“Hellooooo…”

You gasped and sat up, eyes wildly searching the room until you found Rhea standing above you. It was light outside, light enough that golden rays peeked through the curtains and illuminated her face. You glanced at the clock. 7am. Hadn’t you guys just gone to bed?

“We’re going to the gym. You coming?”

“I thought we were on vacation,” You groaned and laid back down, covering your face with a throw pillow as you realized how sore your back was. Why the hell did you sleep on the couch all night?

“Suit yourself. We’ll back in a couple hours.”

You rolled over, scrunched up but content as the footsteps left the house, got in the car, and drove away. Slowly, you dozed back off into that euphoric state of half sleep.

“Hey…”

Oh fuck. Damian. Your heart picked up and suddenly you were awake once more. You thought you had heard all of them leave, and yet…

“Hey, you awake?”

You remained rigidly still save for your breathing, even as you heard him approach. For whatever reason, pretending to still be asleep was your first and only instinct. It did you little good, however.

In one sudden motion, as if you weighed nothing at all, you were scooped up into his arms. Still, you pretended to sleep. Despite your heart racing. Despite how badly you wanted to lean into the safety and warmth of his chest. Despite the fire that sparked in your core every time you got close to him.

Yeah, you were down bad. The moment he got in the ring to spar with you that first time, you were a goner, and it only got worse as years went on. You had spent holidays together, traveled to countless cities and countries, bared your soul to him over late night gin and cigarettes. You saw him for what he was. When others saw a monster of a man, a Broken Angel as he was once called, you saw someone sensitive, fierce, and loyal. Even the flaws drew you closer, but you could focus on those another time.

You kept the feelings under the hat as best you could. The only time you let it slip was to Rhea, early on in your friendship, your eyes lingering too long on Damian as he walked away from the two of you. She promised to take the secret to her grave. That didn’t stop her from teasing you in private, though, or from dropping the subtlest of hints when you were all together. Hints Damian never seemed to get, or maybe he did. Who really knows?

Back in the present, he was carrying you… somewhere, that much you could glean with your eyes closed. And then you were placed somewhere soft. Already warm and slept in, like the comfiest hug. Wait… was this his bed? You breathed deeply and realized it was, regrettably, recognizing the scent of his hair left behind on the pillow.

He covered you with a blanket, pushing away some hair that had fallen in your face. It was a surprisingly tender gesture from someone like him, especially for “just a friend”, but that was something you had gotten used to. It was one of the many facets of who he was, showing his love with touch. He was always there for you with a hug when you needed it, or a rub to your shoulders after a good match, and he seemed to mess with your hair a lot, too. You thought nothing of it. That was just.. him.

You decided, as his hand drew away from your face, that now was as good a time as any to begin to stir. You slowly blinked your eyes open and looked up as he was still standing beside you, just turning to leave.

“Mmmm hello…” you mumbled, voice gravelly with sleep.

“Shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you up… you just looked uncomfortable and I was getting up anyway so I figured…” He seemed almost nervous, immediately pulling his hands away from you.

“No, it’s fine,” you cut him off, stretching for the first time in what felt like days, “thank you..”

“Okay, well.. you sleep. I’m gonna make breakfast..” he turned back to leave and you quickly grabbed onto his hand, tugging it backward.

“Too early for breakfast. It’s your bed. Come lay down…” your voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard every word.

It wasn’t as though you two hadn’t shared plenty of beds. Traveling on tour was like that. With Dom and Rhea paired off, and Finn preferring to be alone, you two often ended up in a room together, and thanks to Damian’s stature that meant sharing a single king bed. Of course, you didn’t mind. Not even as you laid awake all those nights, trying to quell that burning need you couldn’t seem to shake when you were so close yet so far from him. You wondered how he could sleep, how he couldn’t feel your nervous energy from across the bed. Maybe he could, and just paid it no mind.

This time was different, though. Charged. Like the energy you felt shooting through the fingertips that touched him was somehow a mutual exchange. Like if you pulled your hand from his right now, you would see the electricity connecting them. You couldn’t explain how or why, all you could do was tug on his hand as he tried to decline your invitation.

“There’s no way you’re not tired, come on…”

And, after a moment of your insistence, he reluctantly obliged.

There was a dip in the bed, and you hummed happily as a strong arm wrapped around you, hugging you close for a moment as he got situated. You rolled onto your side, facing away from him so you could hide your secret little smile. Strong arms wrapped around you again, to your surprise, and you shifted until you both were comfortable laying there in each other’s space.

You two always ended up like this, once you finally found yourself able to sleep. You would wake curled up against his massive frame, him holding you in a manner that could only be described as possessive. It was almost as though he was protecting you in your slumber; From what, you weren’t sure. Bad dreams? Aliens? You always played it off as though you two just enjoyed the closeness, drawn to each other in the unconscious. You’d vehemently defend to Rhea that it was strictly platonic. The butterflies in your throat disagreed.

It felt like every single cell in your body was vibrating. You thought there was no way that you could sleep, and yet you felt your eyelids droop as his warmth spread around you. Once again, you dozed, your body weightless despite being hyper aware of the fact that you were pressed up against him. His shallow, sleepy breaths puffed across the top of your head, but you would later learn he was also not sleeping.

No, he was in the same predicament as you. Pretending to sleep while his mind raced and the smell of your hair drew him further into this downward spiral. It was all innocent thoughts at first. Friendly. Looking forward to spending time with you and the others over the next few days. Then he opened his eyes, catching a glimpse of your peaceful, sleeping face and a switch flipped. Suddenly he was consumed by the thought of waking you up and taking you then and there, finally giving into the urge he felt every time he got close to you. Every time he watched you wrestle. Every time you smiled at him from across a room, or fell asleep on him during long flights, or gave his butt a pat as he walked out from Gorilla to the ramp. He valued your friendship more than that urge, though, and it’s stopped him every time he’s nearly gone through with indulging it.

Lost in your thoughts, you only barely registered the fact that he had scooted a little bit closer to you than before, hips flush with the curve of your ass. Something else pressed against you, something somewhat firm and insistent. You blushed, trying to muffle the faintest gasp at the realization of exactly what it was. He had to be sleeping… right? Would he do this if he wasn’t?

You didn’t know what to do, frozen still by the options before you. You could ignore it, pretend to keep sleeping and act as though nothing was happening. That was the safest option. You two could proceed as usual, protecting your friendship for the long run while you pined for him still. Or… you could give in and acknowledge it, say fuck it to all of the doubt and uncertainty.

Fuck it.

You moved to back yourself up further against him, making sure to slowly grind your hips and drag your ass against the clothed protrusion. You heard a low, barely audible noise from him, spurring you on as you arched your back slightly and once again pressed your ass into him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing…” he whispered under his breath, not wanting to wake you if this was all just some kind of cruel joke the universe was playing on him. His hand went from holding you across your waist to slowly tracing a line down your side, stopping at your hip and squeezing gently. You hummed again, softly, leaning into his touch.

It burned where his fingertips made contact with your skin, feeling that same electric energy as before, stealing the breath from your lungs. It was now or never, you decided, no going back from here. A calculated risk, but you were always so bad at math. Slowly, you reached back, grabbing hold of his hip and using the new leverage to really grind against him. You heard a low rumbling, like thunder in his chest, fingers digging into your hip.

“Don’t tease me…” another barely audible growl of a whisper. You chuckled softly, putting on an air of confidence in spite of your hammering heart, moving just enough in his hold to turn your head and look innocently at him. God, he loved that look. He propped himself up on his elbow, looking you over with a glint in his eye you’d never seen before, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Who’s teasing?” You offered a smile over your shoulder.

“I mean it…” he brought you closer to him, his lips finding your bare shoulder. He placed a kiss on it, then bit down softly, eliciting the tiniest gasp from you. Another kiss, another bite, another low, sleepy whine from you as your hips begged for more friction. His hand on your hip pulled you back as he rocked slowly into you. God, why did he have to make this so good? It was bad enough that you were past some kind of point of no return, but every press of his hips to your behind only made it worse, forcing tiny moans out of you. Officially helpless to the way your body was reacting to his touch, you didn’t bother resisting it any longer. Your hand on his hip reached between the two of you, teasing along the waistband of his boxers before reaching in. Your hand slid tentatively down his pelvis, running over smooth, hot skin before finally wrapping around what you were looking for.

It was damn near as intimidating as he was. Long and thick and heavy, twitching slightly in your grasp as he grew harder. You couldn’t help but utter a quiet “Fuck”. His chest rumbled as you stroked him a few times, and you couldn’t help but groan with him, the slick heat of your core only growing more overwhelming with each glide of your palm. You felt lips on your neck now, doing the same as before. A kiss, a bite, then another soothing kiss as you mewled at the sensation, your walls clenching around nothing, absolutely begging for him. You’d be lucky if you made it out of this without him marking you, but would that really be lucky? You kept on with soft, slow strokes, breathless as he continued to focus on your neck.

“Are you sure we should do this…” he breathed in your ear, your movements slowing as you processed his question. He was giving you one last out, it seemed. One last opportunity to say “you’re right, let’s stop”, though you both knew you had already gone too far to come back from this. But, with no hesitation, you nodded.

It all happened so fast after that. In half a second you were flat on your back, eyes wide as you tried to choke out something clever or witty to say, completely failing. He wasn’t touching you yet, but nonetheless you were pinned, his massive frame caging yours entirely. Your eyes cut down to discover he’d slid his boxers off, hard cock hanging between his legs. Fuck, it looked even better than it felt. Your gaze wandered back up to his confident smirk. He knew what he was working with, clearly. Smug bastard.

“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice…” you couldn’t help but laugh, doing everything you could to look normal, ignoring the steady beating in your ears.

“Just couldn’t help but notice you admiring something…” he chuckled, then leaned back down to kiss your neck, and suddenly your mind was mush again except for him.

You were ripped from your thoughts as you found your top being pulled off and your breasts exposed, his mouth immediately attaching to one. He was all teeth and tongue, frantic and desperate, years of tension finally breaking the dam and rushing through his veins. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, writhing and gasping as he played you so expertly, somehow finding every little sensitive spot and knowing exactly how to wring the most pathetic little sounds from your throat. Had your nipples always been this sensitive? You couldn’t remember. In fact, this all felt so new, like it was your first time all over again. His intense focus turned up to you as he switched to your other breast, the eye contact enough to ruin you both. You broke it, certain you would come in an instant if you held his dark eyes any longer.

Damian let go of your nipple with a tug of his teeth, leaning up to finally kiss your lips, both hands holding your face. White heat burst behind your eyes as his tongue immediately assumed dominance over yours. You wrapped your arms around broad shoulders, moaning shamelessly into his mouth as tongues danced and one of his hands moved to firmly hold your jaw. He only broke the kiss to speak, lips just centimeters from yours.

“Pretty little thing… me estás matando…”

Your loss for words left you grinning stupidly in response. You, killing him? While you’ve lost all sense of chill, not even bothering to pretend to be casual about this? He kissed the smile off your face, biting and tugging on your bottom lip as he pulled away, leaving your lips to chase his as you whined with need. It was strange, the fact that you needed him. You’d had plenty of partners, plenty of good sex. Sure, you wanted them, but this felt like you’d surely die if you didn’t feel him inside you soon. Like your body would simply vaporize without his touch. Maybe this was how it was going to be from now on, feeling like something was distinctly missing when he wasn’t touching you.

Your flimsy cotton shorts were the next to go, his lips finding every inch of exposed skin down your abdomen and claiming it as his own. Eager hands glided down his shoulders and back, taking in the way each muscle flexed as he moved along your body.

His energy was impossible to place, manic but calm. He knew exactly what he was doing, but still moved with an urgency as if the two of you would be caught any moment. Which… was partially true. In a moment of clarity, the rest of the crew came to mind and your heart picked up at the realization that they would be back soon, and this would be over. Or worse.. they could find you two, passionately entangled. What would they say? What would HE say? You feared he would deny it, too ashamed to admit he felt anything for you, even just lust.

Your thoughts continued to race, eyes closing as you panicked. You tried to be discreet about it, but if anyone knew your cues, it was Damian. He moved back up to you, a strong yet delicate hand wrapping around your throat as he kissed you. Well, that was one way to knock out the intrusive thoughts.

“Look at me,” he squeezed ever so slightly as your eyes focused, his tone stern yet soft, “whatever you’re thinking about. Doesn’t matter right now. Tell me what does.” Another squeeze.

“You.”

“And what else…”

“… me?”

“Good girl.”

Another kiss, another squeeze, and he was gone. Back to leaving bite marks down your body. He came down to your panties and let out a silent, somewhat shaky breath. Finally. Finally he had you right where he always wanted you. It was almost overwhelming, but he didn’t let onto that. His fingers gently traced over black cotton, finding a damp spot along the seam of your cunt.

“Oh gatita,” he kept focus along that spot, shooting sparks through your entire body with how inexplicably sensitive you were, “is this all for me?”

All you could do was whimper in response, letting your head fall back to the pillow as your hips chased his fingers, begging for more. He granted you that extra friction, mouth falling open as he watched you shamelessly grind against his hand.

And then he pulled away, leaving you whining from the loss. In a blink, your panties were tossed to the floor and finally the two of you could take in the sight of one another. It took all of the self control he had not to split you open on his cock right there, but he resisted, instead kneeling between your open legs.

You looked up at him, breathing out a barely audible “please”. You nearly took him out right there, his composure faltering as he fully looked you over.

“Perfect,” he exhaled, readjusting his position and giving his straining cock a few lazy strokes, making sure you were watching. Oh, you were watching, nearly drooling at the sight.

His hand found your pussy again, gently swirling a thumb around your clit, eyes locked with yours and hand still slowly working his cock. He wanted to see every reaction, every little microexpression, he wanted it all. He had waited this long for you, years of picturing you in this exact moment. He wanted to savor everything.

You moaned through your bitten lip as he teased, not daring to look away from him. He had you captive, it seemed, frozen in place and begging for anything he could give you. Which is why you whined so pathetically when he pulled his hand away, once again.

He sucked your essence from his thumb, savoring your sweetness. You hummed at the sight, closing your eyes, only to feel his grip on your jaw a moment later to tilt your head up toward him.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice deeper, more serious. You didn’t dare disobey him, looking up like a deer in headlights. Something about that voice… you couldn’t quite place it. He growled lowly, bringing his hand back down to your cunt. He collected some of your juices on his finger, running it up and down your slick folds before slowly, agonizingly sliding it inside.

He still gripped your chin, daring you to look away as you whimpered at the sudden fullness. You had always admired his hands, giant and strong and rough, yet gentle. You’d wondered how they would feel in this exact scenario, often finding your mind wandering as your own smaller hand worked to your release in the late nights. It was beyond what you had imagined, so much more. His finger found a slow, steady pace, filling you perfectly and yet not enough all at once. You moved your hips with his rhythm, mouth slack in euphoria, eyes still trained to his.

“So fucking good for me, look how well you’re taking it,” he praised, letting go of your jaw to let you look down at where his finger was disappearing into your tight hole. Then, as you watched, he added another finger, wrenching a moan straight from your chest as your head fell back once more. Now the pace picked up, the thrusts of his hand stronger, more precise as he curled his fingers to find that sensitive little spot. You gasped and panted pathetically as he played you so expertly, looking back down at his hand only to fall back onto the pillow, overwhelmed by the sight.

It’s unfair, how he seemed to know you without knowing you. Without much effort at all from him, you found yourself closing in on climax, your panting gradually becoming uninhibited moans of “Please. Please. Please.”

“Please what, gatita?” He cooed, slowing the pace ever so slightly as he leaned over you.

“Please. Just. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Just don’t stop.”

“Oh, don’t stop?” He slowed just a bit more, grinning down at you. You could only whine in response, hips moving sloppily now, trying to encourage him to fuck you faster. Harder. He obliged… for the moment. Your walls slowly grew tighter, your moans more heady and uncontrolled. You felt the coil tighten. Tighten. Tighten…

And then he slowed again. Painfully. Your orgasm held at bay, he couldn’t have appeared more smug, knowing exactly what he was doing. You looked up at him, flushed and desperate.

“Why’d you do that?” A whine, to which his response was simply to kiss you. Again, he picked up the pace, adding another finger, making sure you felt just how much he stretched you. Oh, you felt it. Your vision went blurry at the sensation, focusing on him and only him.

It didn’t take much to bring you to that edge again, the coil tightening even more, threatening to break with every rough pump of his fingers. He was hovering over you now, leaning down and biting on your shoulder, sucking a mark into it. Apparently, he didn’t think about the consequences of that… or maybe he didn’t care. Nevertheless, he bit again, smirking into your shoulder as you arched your back and rode his fingers, dramatically chasing your high. You were so, so close, every muscle in your body tense, hands scratching down his back.

“Come on, baby. Come for me.”

It hit like a brick to the face after that, overtaking you in every way as you moaned and gasped, holding onto him for dear life. He nuzzled his face into you, kissing and sucking marks down your chest to your abdomen, every press of his lips electric.

Everything felt blurry and yet razor sharp, every muscle in your body twitching in the aftershocks. You barely registered that he had kissed back up your body, hands on either side of your head as he waited above. His lips locked with yours the moment your eyes focused, your hands immediately twisting in his hair, holding him as close to you as you could.

You felt the weeping head of his cock prod at your folds, one of his hands guiding it to rub against your clit, still sensitive from your first orgasm. You mewled with anticipation, your hips grinding down against him.

“Patience…” he breathed against your lips, your hips stilling as he slowly slid inside. Just the head. A gasp from both of you. And then another inch. Fuck. And then another. And another. Until you felt all of him and all you could do was pull him in for another consuming kiss. He started with a slow pace, almost sweet, letting you get used to his size. It quickly grew intense, rough and fast, as he let himself fall into the demands of desire. Your hands grabbed at anything on him you could as he overwhelmed you with his force.

It really was unfair, the way he was fucking you. You didn’t stand a chance against him, not finding a single opportunity to gain the upper hand, left only to meet his thrusts with reckless abandon as you moaned with each moment he filled you. You liked it, though, being at his mercy. You trusted him, strangely. You could probably get used to this.

He’s stronger than you thought possible, his grip on your thighs surely bruising you as you writhed and arched your back at a particularly delicious sensation within you. You couldn’t help but close your eyes, completely lost in the rhythm and harshness of the snap of his hips. He bared his teeth as he fucked you harder. Faster. Tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the intensity. And then his hand was over your mouth, his eyes off you for the first time since this dance began. He was scanning outside the open window, watching a car come down the street, thinking it could be the rest of the group. That didn’t mean he stopped fucking you. In fact, it only got more intense.

“That’s right. Fucking take it.” he was back to looking down at you and your wide eyes, burying himself so deep inside you, you were sure he was ruining you entirely, “that’s it, baby. Tell me how good it feels.” Except he didn’t pull his hand from your mouth, smirking as you attempted to speak anyway, your mind too gone. That is.. until he slid himself fully inside, grinding his hips against yours. You moaned out loud, sure that the neighbors have heard you by now, your walls squeezing around him and feeling the drag as he pulled his cock out entirely.

“On your knees,” a simple order, and yet your brain was static. You blinked up at him before shaking away the fog and turning yourself over, wiggling your ass in his face just a little. His growl shook you, two strong hands grabbing hold of your ass and squeezing.

“Love this ass. Always loved this ass. Estuve soñando al respecto,” he kept squeezing, spreading you and groaning at the sight. You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, giving it another shake in his face. Suddenly, you felt teeth on flesh, letting out a yelp that quickly became a satisfied sigh, your head dipping down past your shoulders. Somehow, you didn’t expect his hand to come crashing down on you, the slap against your ass ringing out in the empty house. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, too immersed in the moment to acknowledge anything but the way your back arched and your chest created the most depraved noise you’d ever heard.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Another slap, you gripped at the bedsheets to keep yourself grounded, “you like being treated like a whore?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimpered involuntarily, nearly slapping your own hand over your mouth at the realization of what you’d said.

“What.. did you just call me?”

“Nothing…”

A ruthless slap, “Tell me.”

You sobbed at the impact, “sir.”

The growl in his chest shook you, and with little warning his cock was pressing to your folds once again, sliding in with ease and setting a brutal pace right off the bat. You dropped to your elbows and arched your back, eyes closing as your head once again dropped. Of course, he took advantage and leaned over you, one hand finding the back of your head and pressing you down into the bed, holding it there. He slapped your ass with the other, laughing when you moaned into the mattress. It left the prettiest pink handprint, he almost wished he could get a picture of it.

You couldn’t believe the way he was fucking you. Like— like a whore, just like he said. You’d think he’d be gentle with you, being your first time together, that he’d want to show you how worthy he was of your pussy. In a way, he was showing you that. He was showing you his worth by fucking you absolutely stupid, and you were loving it. So much that you weren’t far from another climax, feeling your walls tighten around him, dragging such a beautiful sound from him. His hand found your hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling your head off the bed. You cried out, steadying yourself on your hands. It was overwhelming, every sensation he subjected you to, to the point that you felt completely delirious with pleasure, all sense of control lost. You fucked yourself sloppily back on his cock, his fist pulling tighter on your hair. The tears pricked your eyes again, eyes whiting out.

“Ohhh fuck, are you coming? You filthy little—” he didn’t finish, groaning as your cunt rhythmically clenched around him, his own thrusts growing more erratic. You didn’t even hear him praising you with little ‘good girls’ and whispers of how good you feel, your head clouded with the sounds of your own depravity. You rode out your orgasm for what felt like hours, nearly collapsing as your body ceased quaking.

Your brain was working in half time, barely registering that he was still fucking you slowly, trying to bring you back to reality. You tried to speak, but the words were completely incoherent.

“Need a minute,” you finally mumbled, reaching back and grabbing his hand that rested on your hip. He obliged, pulling out and laying down beside you, pulling you into his arms. Your breath caught gradually, your mental faculties growing stronger by the second despite your throbbing cunt. You sighed contentedly, leaning up and kissing him for just a moment. You had your own ideas, now, and one in particular overtook your thoughts.

You kissed him again, grabbing hold of his cock, still slick with you. Your hand stroked him softly as you shifted down the bed, timidly tapping his leg as to ask him to open them. He did so, and you climbed between them, licking your lips as his cock bobbed in anticipation. You took him hungrily into your mouth, not bothering to tease, too eager to feel him.

Now it was your turn to show how unfair you could be, expertly taking him deep into your throat, holding there until you choked. Immediately, he was gone, head falling back on the pillow until he realized he would rather watch you. Your hand assisted your bobbing head, using your tongue to lap at every vein and ridge of his perfect dick. His groans and words of encouragement and yes gatitas only fueled you, giving everything you had to taking him. You almost wanted him to cum right there, to lose all composure and fill your mouth. He had other plans, however, pulling you by the hair off his cock and admiring the fucked out look on your face.

“So fucking pretty,” he mused, pulling you up to him and kissing you. It was all a ploy, of course, and you let him guide you to straddle him, your hips hovering just above his waiting cock. He ordered you to look at him, your brain already to fuck drunk disobey, eyes fixed on him as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“Go ahead, take it all,” he couldn’t help but grin, brow furrowing in pleasure as you did just that, your own face mirroring his. It was almost too much, almost. Getting your balance, you slowly began to bounce on his lap, leaning on his shoulders for leverage. From there it was an endurance test, the pleasure of riding him only tainted by the strain it put on your knees. Still, you continued, his hands finding your hips to help bounce you on his lap, mewling when his hand crashed down on your ass.

You loved having the power. Loved watching his face twist in pleasure as you grinded your hips down onto his. … and you loved that it took little effort for him to suddenly flip you onto your back once more, placing your legs up around his shoulders as he sunk back into you. Every thrust was slow now. Powerful. So much so that each one knocked you back into the wall. It didn’t matter, you were too delirious by the way he was abusing that little spot inside you, seeing stars as you looked up at his concentrated face.

It was close, again, a climax brewing in your core that nearly overtook you the moment you felt it. Your sighs and moans became whines, hands gripped the sheets below you as he just continued with each knock of his hips to yours, folding you up as he leaned forward and somehow sunk impossibly deeper inside you. You pleaded to him, begged him, did everything you could to encourage him to keep going, please. Just another minute. ‘I’m so close’. But he didn’t even have time to stop, the wave crashing over you as the last ‘please’ left your lips and all you could hear was ringing in your ears and the sound of him grunting through each perfect squeeze of your walls around him.

And suddenly you heard something new. A breathy sort of noise intermixed with ‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.’ as his thrusts grew less calculated. Almost sloppy. His hips jerking with every thrust until he couldn’t stall any longer.

“Come on, Papí. Come for me…” you breathed, certain you were tearing the sheets at this point while your cunt pulsed around him, still coming yourself.

Papí. That was all it took for him to fill you, painting your walls as his fingernails dug crescents into your thighs. You laid there, chest heaving as the two of you shared a blissful moment, eyes locked in the realization of what had just happened. And then, as if to dispel the little voice of worry in the back of your mind, he let your legs down gently and climbed up beside you, taking your face into his hands and kissing you. It wasn’t a particularly passionate kiss, but it was perfect for that moment. Perfect enough to ease that budding anxiety.

“We should do that again…” he whispered into your ear, breaking the tension in the air as you burst into a laugh.

“I was thinking the very same thing.”

——

Friends who asked to be tagged: @melisabesurviving @bbygirlnessa18 @missfamilyjeweles @mzv11 @southerngirl41 @thealliasylum @romanreignkisser

[saythenametotheworld]

Foolish One | h.rj

A chance encounter with Renjun at the campus library turns into late-night study sessions and stolen moments. He's everything you're looking for—thoughtful, kind, intelligent. But is this the start of something real, or just a story you’re telling yourself?

Campus Confessions masterlist

Genre: crush-at-first-sight, college AU Pairing: Huang Renjun x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, language, the plot is dragged out a bit lol Notes: 17k words. Part 1 of the Campus Confessions series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Foolish One by Taylor Swift. Genuinely, let me know what you guys think of this. I am very open-minded to constructive criticism. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: 1 2 3 by NCT DREAM, Risk by Gracie Abrams, Jump Then Fall by Taylor Swift, Foolish One by Taylor Swift

“Wishful thoughts forgot to mention when something's really not right”

The campus library was quieter than you expected for a Tuesday afternoon during exam week, the kind of silence that made your every move feel amplified and noticeable. You were feeling self-conscious, wondering if everyone was noticing you standing awkwardly at the front desk while the librarian refused to check out the book you wanted to borrow. But the embarrassment didn’t bother you as much as the growing panic in your chest. You really needed this book right now so you could do a last minute study before your exam in thirty minutes.

Clutching a notebook against your chest, you gave the librarian a pleading look. “Please? Just this once?”

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t do that without your student ID,” the librarian said, her tone polite but firm. “You know how it works right? We need it for the record.”

You gave a tight smile, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Isn’t there any way to bypass that? I mean, don’t you have librarian privileges, something like that? Please, it would take at least fifteen minutes to get to my apartment for my ID, and another fifteen to come back here.”

The librarian sighed, taking her glasses off and setting it down on her desk. She gave you a stern look. “I know you’re desperate, but I can’t just bend the rules even if I want to. Especially not for a student who’s negligent enough to forget her ID at home when you should be carrying it on your person at all times.”

You were about to protest when a smooth and calm voice spoke from behind you. “Here use mine.”

You turned to see a boy holding out his ID card. Silvery blond hair brushed lightly across his eyes, and his pale skin seemed to glow faintly under the library lights. The thin-framed glasses resting on his nose didn’t hide the sharp clarity in his gaze—calm, observant, and entirely unbothered by the chaos you were exuding. His expression was calm as if lending his card to a stranger was the most natural thing in the world. Somehow, that made you even more flustered.

“Oh,” you said, blinking at him. “That’s really nice of you. Thank you.”

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You looked like you’re about to cry.”

Letting out a sheepish laugh, you took the card and handed it to the librarian. “I mean, I was just about to, actually,” you quipped.

It didn’t even take two minutes for the librarian to check out the book. You returned his ID, your gaze catching his name—Huang Renjun—before handing it back.

“Here. And, uh, thanks again.”

“No problem,” he said, smiling before taking his turn to check out his books. “Good luck with your exam.”

“Thanks. You too,” you replied. As he went to talk to the librarian, you stood there for a moment, hesitating, wanting to say more, or to ask him something—anything—but you had stuff to do. The exam wasn’t going to study itself.

You rushed out of the library, muttering his name under your breath and telling yourself not to forget about the cute boy with the silvery blond hair and an ID he didn’t hesitate to lend.

It’s your second semester as a freshman, and so far, you could say you weren’t the type of student to get caught up in the grind of academics. You took up Liberal Arts out of necessity instead of passion. After highschool, you didn’t have a clear-cut direction or dream job in mind, but you knew you had to go to college so you picked something that left the options open, hoping that eventually, you’d figure it out.

When it comes to academics, you do just enough to get by. Your grades are respectable but nothing extraordinary. You’re not taking things for granted—you just didn’t see the point in staying up all night studying or stressing over perfect grades. Even with average grades, as long as you passed, that was good enough for you. While you respected those who worked hard to excel in their academics, you didn’t feel the need to compete with them. You weren’t interested in pushing yourself that far.

Your friends often teased you about it, calling you laid-back or lazy, but they understood. You didn’t need to be at the top of the class to feel content. You just gave enough to get by, balancing school and the rest of your life without too much strain. You figured most people probably felt the same way—just doing enough, hoping things would eventually fall into place.

“How are you feeling?” Karina asked Giselle, her eyes full of concern. The two of them sat beside you on the mat you’d spread out on the grass in the quad.

They were your housemates—your friends, too—living in the big apartment you all shared. You’d met them at the start of the school year, and sharing a space together had made it easy to grow close.

Giselle sighed, leaning her head against your shoulder. “Not any better. I think the medicine’s not doing anything.”

You rubbed her back gently, trying to comfort her. “Just give it some time. If it gets worse, you can rest at home. I’ll make you some healthy soup.”

Giselle raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You can’t cook.”

You laughed, shrugging casually. “How hard can it be? I’m a fast learner.”

Jaemin, who had been sitting across from you, snickered. “Shut up. You can’t even tell the difference between a cucumber and a zucchini.”

You gasped dramatically, scooting away from him, glaring. “You shut up! You used to follow me around like a puppy when we were kids. Stop acting like you’re the smart one.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes. “We were fourteen, not kids.”

You smirked. “Doesn’t change the fact that you followed me around like a lost puppy.”

Jaemin crossed his arms, sighing heavily. “I’m just making things clear because I don’t want to sit here and watch you rewrite the facts in front of your friends. And just for the record, I was lost at the time.”

Karina turned to Giselle. “How does anyone confuse zucchini with cucumber?”

Giselle just shrugged, unimpressed.

You shot them both a look. “In my defense, they look exactly the same!”

The two stared at you, shaking their heads in perfect unison. It was almost comical. “No, they don’t,” Giselle said flatly.

“They really don’t,” Karina agreed.

You were about to fire back when something—or rather, someone—caught your eye. That unmistakable side profile, the silvery hair catching the sunlight just right. “Huang Renjun,” you blurted out, your voice almost dreamy as your gaze followed him.

“Huang who?” Giselle asked, turning to follow your line of sight. Her eyes lit up. “Oh, the guy from the library?”

“Yes!” you gasped, clasping your hands over your mouth like you’d just seen a celebrity. “See? I told you he’s cute.”

“You’re right, he totally is,” Karina chimed in, sharing the same gleeful smile as you and Giselle.

“What’s going on? Who’s that?” Jaemin leaned closer, his curiosity piqued.

You grinned, leaning toward him like you were about to spill the juiciest secret. “He’s the guy who saved my ass yesterday.”

All eyes shifted back to Renjun, who stood by the library talking to a group of students. From this distance, you could see the bright smile on his face as he laughed at something his friend said. He looked so effortlessly friendly, so unbothered—and something about that gave you butterflies.

Giselle nudged your arm, eyes glinting with mischief. “Go say ‘hi’!”

“No way!” you hissed, snapping your head toward her. “He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

You stayed rooted to your spot, feeling your friends’ teasing remarks rain down on you like playful jabs. They nudged and prodded, daring you to make a move, but you could only keep your eyes on Renjun. He lingered outside the library for a few minutes before finally stepping inside, disappearing through the double doors. Before you could think too much, your body moved on autopilot.

“I'll be back,” you mumbled to your friends, brushing off their teasing ‘oooh’s as you hurried across the quad. They exchanged knowing looks, grinning like they’d already won some secret bet, but you ignored them and followed him.  

Inside the library, the cool, quiet air made you pause. You spotted Renjun by the window just as he was sitting down at a vacant desk. Summoning every ounce of courage you had, you approached him.

“Hi,” you said softly, feeling your voice wobble just enough to make you cringe.

Renjun turned, his expression neutral at first before recognition lit up his eyes. “Oh, hey,” he said with a small smile. “What’s up?”  

“I, uh…” You cleared your throat, clutching the book in your hands like it was a lifeline. “I was going to return this today, so I’m gonna have to bother you again with your ID to check it in.” You laughed nervously, hoping the self-deprecation would make up for how awkward you felt.  

Renjun’s smile widened just slightly. “Sure, don’t worry about it. It would’ve been worse if you didn’t.” he teased lightly. Before you could answer, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his own card. “Here.”

“Didn’t want a loaned book to hold your GPA back at the end of the semester, right?” you quipped, taking the card from his hand. Renjun chuckled as he nodded. “I’ll be back in a jiffy,” you added before turning to head to the front desk.

After the book was returned, you skipped over to Renjun’s desk and thanked him for his help. He seemed busy with something, so he just told you you were welcome before returning to his task. Meanwhile, you found yourself lingering. The rational part of your brain was telling you to leave and not push your luck, but the louder part was convincing you to stay.

You spotted a vacant desk next to Renjun’s, so you slid into a seat, pulling out your laptop and the notes for a class paper you were gonna start. The paper wasn’t due until next week, but you needed an excuse—a reason to stay within Renjun’s orbit. So you started typing, glancing at your screen for a few seconds before inevitably stealing a look at him. He was sitting a few tables away, scribbling in a notebook, his expression focused.  He looked extra cute by the window, a soft beam of sunlight catching his hair and his flawless skin as he worked. The way his brows furrowed in concentration, the absentminded way he twirled his pen—it was like he didn’t even realize how distractingly handsome he was. Then again, maybe it was just in your eyes because there was no denying the fact that you were immensely infatuated by him.

You were mid-sentence in your essay when you stole another glance. But he glanced up just as your gaze lingered a second too long. Your eyes darted back to your screen so fast it was a miracle you didn’t get whiplash. Too late, you’d been caught red-handed already. Still, you couldn’t help yourself from doing it again, making sure to be more subtle this time—only to fail at it.

The second time he caught you looking, he held your gaze for a second longer, one eyebrow lifting in silent amusement. By the third or fourth time, he set his pen down, leaned back slightly, and called out softly, “Am I distracting you from your work?”  

You froze, heat rushing to your cheeks. “What? No, I wasn’t—” You fumbled, searching for an excuse. “I was just… looking around. Yes. I’m looking around as I think.”

Renjun chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I see. I thought I had something on my head,” he said, gesturing over his head.  

You huffed, flustered, and busied yourself with your notes, hoping to regain your composure. To your surprise, Renjun didn’t let the moment hang awkwardly. Instead, he asked casually, “What are you working on?”  

“Oh,” you said, grateful for the topic shift. “It’s an essay for a philosophy class.”  

He tilted his head, curious. “Which one?”  

You named the subject, and his expression brightened. “I took that last semester,” he said. “Professor Lee, right?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” you confirmed.

Renjun nodded thoughtfully. ““Well, then you don’t need to worry much. She’s really chill. She’s not the kind of professor who’ll mark you down for having a different opinion, so you can pretty much write how you actually feel about the topic.”  

His words surprised you. “Really?”  

“Really,” he said with a nod. “She actually encourages it. Just make sure you explain your points well. She likes a good argument.”  

You found yourself smiling, his advice easing some of the stress you hadn’t realized you were carrying about the essay. “Thanks. That’s actually very helpful.”  

“No problem.” He picked up his pen again, flashing you one last smile before returning to his notes.  

And just like that, you had one more reason to stay a little longer. You continued writing your paper, making sure you did it well and explained your points clearly. Occasionally, you would glance up at him, grinning to yourself at how attractive he looked when he was focusing. You didn’t need to talk after that. You wanted to, but you couldn’t find the right timing nor the right topic. By the time your phone alarm went off for your next class, you were already halfway through your essay.

Standing up to gather your things, you gave Renjun another glance, debating whether to say goodbye. The idea of walking off without a word felt odd, but you worried a goodbye might seem too eager, too obvious. So you hesitated—just long enough for him to notice.

“Done already?” Renjun asked, tilting his head slightly.

““No! Not yet.” Your response came faster than you intended. “I mean, I have to go to class, so… I’ll finish later.”

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “If you need help with that paper, let me know. Maybe I can offer some pointers.”

The offer caught you off guard, and for a second, all you could do was blink at him.

Renjun seemed to realize how it sounded, and his hand darted up to rub the back of his neck. “Wait, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like—uh—it wasn’t supposed to sound—” He let out a nervous chuckle. “That was kind of arrogant, wasn’t it?”

“No! Not at all!” you said quickly, shaking your head with more enthusiasm than you intended. “I mean, I would definitely let you know if I needed help.”

His laughter softened, and he ducked his head slightly, as though embarrassed. “Well, now it sounds like I think I’m a genius or something.”

“Renjun, stop. You’re fine,” you assured him, a smile creeping onto your face. And you meant it. There was something unexpectedly charming about his fumbling attempt to explain himself.

He hesitated, then asked, almost shyly, “What’s your name?”

You blinked again. “Sorry?”

“I just realized… you know my name, but I don’t know yours,” he explained, the tips of his ears noticeably pink.

“Oh!” You told him your name, watching as he repeated it under his breath—not once, but twice, as though memorizing every syllable.

When he looked up at you, his smile was soft, almost boyish. “Nice to meet you. You should get to class before you’re late.”

“Right. Yeah. Um, see you around,” you said, clutching your bag tightly and walking out before you said something embarrassingly incoherent.

As soon as you were out of sight, you let the grin you’d been holding back take over. It was silly, how a few awkward exchanges could make your heart race like this. For the first time in a long while, it felt less like fleeting, hormone-driven infatuation and more like a genuinely innocent crush.

For the next few days, the library became your favorite spot, and it definitely wasn’t just because of your paper. Whether it was morning or late afternoon, you found yourself there, trying to catch glimpses of Renjun. Sometimes he was already settled in when you arrived, headphones on and pen tapping rhythmically against his notebook. Other times, you got there first and watched the door with anticipation.

You made it a point to sit near him whenever you could. If the spot next to him was taken, you’d find a table within view. Eventually, you started interacting a bit more, small moments that shouldn’t have felt significant but somehow they did.

Like the time you dropped your pen and Renjun leaned down to retrieve it, handing it to you with a quiet, “Here you go.” 

His fingers brushed yours briefly, and though it lasted less than a second, it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. Another time, while unpacking your bag, your water bottle rolled off the table. Renjun caught it mid-fall and handed it back with an amused smile. “Careful, your bag is out for sabotage today,” he joked.

You smiled, shaking your head. “Not when you’re here to save the day,” you retorted, feeling proud of your quick and witty response.

Then there was the time you walked past him on your way to the shelves, and he looked up, offering a small nod of acknowledgment. It wasn’t much—just a polite gesture—but it left you grinning like an idiot as you pretended to browse the books, replaying the moment in your head.

One morning, Renjun sneezed, and you instinctively murmured, “Bless you.” He glanced at you, surprised but touched. 

“Thanks,” he said softly, his smile warm enough to make you forget where you were.

Each interaction, however small, only made you more drawn to him. One day, Giselle decided to tag along, claiming she needed to ‘see this Renjun guy’ for herself. The two of you walked into the library, and sure enough, he was already there, engrossed in his notes. Giselle wasted no time making her move, striding right up to him with her trademark confidence.

“Hi! You’re Renjun, right?” she asked, her tone friendly but direct.

Renjun looked up, startled but polite. “Uh, yeah. Do I know you?”

“No, but I think we have a mutual friend. Ningning?”

Renjun’s expression softened at the mention of Ningning, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, yeah, Ningning.”

“How is she? I haven’t seen her since last semester.”

You watched the exchange from a few steps away, nervous and embarrassed at the same time. Giselle was handling the conversation so effortlessly, but you couldn’t help but worry about how this would make you look.

After chatting for a minute, Giselle turned to you and grinned. “Nice to meet you, we’ll leave you to it. Or, actually,” she gestured to the empty seat across from Renjun, “do you mind if we sit here?”

Renjun shook his head. “No. Go ahead.”

Giselle gave you a pointed look as the two of you sat down, clearly proud of herself for setting this up. That day, you ended up sitting with Renjun without needing an excuse. Giselle paved the way with her easy conversation, dropping Ningning’s name enough times to turn the awkward encounter into something comfortable. She only stayed for about twenty minutes before leaving, claiming she had other things to do. 

“Good luck with your paper!” she called out, leaving you alone with Renjun. You chatted a lot more than usual then, and you were giddy and smiling the whole time.

The moment that truly melted you, though, happened on a particularly busy day. The library was unusually crowded, and you could not find a vacant seat. You were about to leave for the day when you spotted a hand waving in the air. It took you a second to realize it was Renjun, beckoning you over to the seat next to him.

The sight made your stomach flutter, sending a wholesome kind of warmth through you. You didn’t even hesitate, smiling as you walked through the maze of desks and sat down next to him. “Hi! This place is full full.”

“I know. It’s not even exam week,” he replied while you were setting your stuff down. Then he gestured to the side of the table where his books were sprawled. “Do you need more space? I can move these.”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” you said quickly, but the gesture made your chest flutter all the same.

It was almost the deadline for your paper, and while you were hoping you could use that as an excuse to sit with him that day, it seemed unnecessary now. Still, you thought it would be best to ask for his help while you were there.

“I’m taking you up on that offer today,” you began, hoping your cheerfulness would mask the nervousness you were feeling.

“Finally,” he quipped back, closing his book as he watched you open your laptop beside him. “I was starting to feel embarrassed about that offer. I was thinking you never really needed help and I was being arrogant.”

“Oh, stop it,” you huffed, toggling to the paper in your device. “Here. Would you mind taking a look at my draft? Just to see if it makes sense?”

Instead of tugging the laptop toward him, as you normally would, Renjun scooted closer, his shoulder brushing against yours as he leaned over your screen. He read it as it was, eyes scanning your words with quiet focus. Probably too focused to even notice you holding your breath beside him, heart racing in your chest at the sudden proximity.

“This is good,” he said after a moment, his voice low and thoughtful. “But here, maybe you could elaborate more on this point. And this—” he gestured to another part, “—is strong, but you could link it back to this statement more clearly.”  

You nodded, though most of his advice went over your head because your brain was too busy short-circuiting over how close he was. The scent of his cologne, the way his lips moved as he explained something you didn’t catch—all of it was impossibly distracting.

When he leaned back, you snapped out of your daze enough to say, “Thanks. That was really helpful.”  

“It’s nothing,” he said, flashing a small smile. “If you need help again, just let me know—so long as it’s something I actually know.”  

And then he added, almost offhandedly, “It’s nice studying with someone.”  

Your heart skipped a beat, and you didn’t hesitate to seize the moment. “Maybe we could be study buddies?” you offered, trying to sound as casual as you could.

Renjun looked at you for a second, then nodded. “You know what? Maybe we should be study buddies.”

Ever since you moved away for college, you’d grown to enjoy three things: first, the independence of doing things on your own time without having to consider family members; second, experiencing a city so different from the hometown where you’d spent most of your life; and lastly, going to parties without a curfew.

These might sound shallow to some people, and honestly, you thought so too. Then again, you’d happily admit that you weren’t a profound kind of girl.  Growing up, you’d always been easy to please—and just as easy to disappoint. You wore your heart on your sleeve, never bothering to bottle up your feelings or hide your opinions. It helped that you were outgoing, the kind of person who cared more about your own well being than having beef with other people, so you never really had to fight anyone.

That being said, you liked to keep your circle small, only making friends with people you like and keeping a civil relationship with everyone else. With your small circle of friends—only Giselle, Karina, and Jaemin—it was easy to just tell them everything about you.

But tonight, even that small circle couldn’t make this party feel less exhausting.

“Girl, you did not come here just to stay invisible in a corner,” Karina sighed, towering over you on the lumpy corner couch while you sipped from a red plastic cup.

“What?” you asked, genuinely puzzled. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, be normal? You’re more fun than this,” she retorted, squeezing herself into the seat next to you. “Don’t make me sound like your mom, but it’s like you’re not even trying tonight. You’re usually the one dragging me into something embarrassing.”

“Yeah, but this is kinda boring, don’t you think?” you said, gesturing vaguely at the chaos around you.

Music blared from the speakers, with strobe lights dancing in the ceilings and the floors all around you. Blending with the music were the sounds of people chatting and laughing animatedly. Students were either drunk or high, dancing in circles or hanging off each other. Even the air felt too heavy, thick with the smell of sweat, booze, and something you were pretty sure wasn’t tobacco.

Karina’s eyes widened like you’d just said something ridiculous. “Boring? This?” she scoffed, throwing her hands up at the lively crowd.

You grinned at her over the rim of your cup. “Just saying.”

She rolled her eyes, but you noticed the corner of her lips twitching like she was trying not to smile. The two of you must have looked ridiculous, crammed onto the tiny couch while the rest of the party swirled around you.

“Where’s Gigi, anyway?” Karina asked, scanning the crowd.

You leaned to the side, spotting Giselle at the bar. She was laughing with a guy who was practically draped over her, his lips close to her ear as he whispered something that made her toss her hair back and giggle.

“She’s having fun,” you said, nodding toward her.

“At least one of us is,” Karina grumbled.

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to sit here and look lonely with me. I was doing a good enough job of it by myself,” you teased, nudging her shoulder.

Before she could retort, Jaemin appeared between the two of you, crouching slightly so he could speak right into your ears. “Long faces at a party? You two are ruining the vibe.”

“Go away,” Karina grumbled, shoving Jaemin’s face with her palm.

Undeterred, Jaemin grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers with a devilish grin. “I know why you’re sulking. Forget about him; he’s not coming.”

“You little—” Karina tried to yank her hand back, but Jaemin held on, wagging his head as if scolding her.

Turning his attention to you, he asked, “And you? What’s your excuse? Hungry? Sleepy? Time of the month? Which is it?”

“What are you even talking about?” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

Jaemin narrowed his eyes like he’d caught you in a lie. “You do know that it’s weirder to see you idle at a party than when you’re throwing it back on the dance floor, right?”

You shrugged, taking another sip from your cup. “Can’t a girl take a break from all that?”

Karina, finally prying her hand free, leaned back with a smirk. “Shouldn’t you be happy about this? Less activity from her means less work for you.”

Jaemin stood upright like he’d just had a light bulb moment. It was also then that Giselle came bounding over excitedly. “Jeno. Jeno. Jeno,” she chanted, pointing toward the staircase.

Your ears perked up as you followed her gaze. There he was—Lee Jeno—locked in a steamy makeout session with a pretty girl you’d seen around before.

Karina gave you a sidelong glance, her voice cautious. “Are you seeing that right now?”

“I am,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “What a fuckboy.”

Giselle raised an eyebrow, nudging your arm. “Yet you still like him, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do,” you admitted with a chuckle. “Him being a fuckboy doesn’t change the fact that he’s hot.”

Karina cringed dramatically. “Your judgment is so questionable.”

Jaemin snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Hold up. What’s going on? Do you have a thing for Lee Jeno too?” When you grinned instead of answering, he groaned, shaking his head. “Just how many crushes do you have, woman?”

Honestly, only two—Jeno and Renjun. But these days, Renjun had the edge. Jeno might’ve been the one who flirted with you last semester, but lately, you couldn’t help but swoon over Renjun’s quieter, more thoughtful charm.

“I like Renjun more,” you confessed. “He’s just the complete opposite of Jeno. I kinda wish he were here. Though I know this isn’t really his scene.”

“Girl, doesn’t it bother you that you like two completely different types of guys at the same time?” Karina asked, genuinely curious.

You scoffed, throwing your hands up in mock exasperation. “Girl, does it matter?”

For a while, you stayed in the corner, sipping your drink and chatting with your friends. But as the minutes ticked by, the infectious energy of the crowd started pulling you in. Soon you were getting up from the couch and joining the thrumming crowd, Karina trailing behind you.

Giselle and Jaemin quickly found their own adventures—Giselle gravitating back toward the bar, her giggles disappearing into the noise, and Jaemin vanishing somewhere toward the dance floor. That left you and Karina sticking close, both of you weaving through the chaos as you searched for the makeshift minibar.

That’s when Donghyuck appeared.

The first thing he did when he saw you was flirt. “Hi, gorgeous. Are you going home with me after this, or should we just skip the formalities and head back to my place now?”

You gave him a deadpan look. “Pass.”

He smirked, completely unfazed. “The bathroom’s closer if my place is too far for you.”

“Isn’t your place Mark Lee’s place?” you shot back. “Hard pass.”

Donghyuck’s grin widened like he’d been waiting for you to say that. “Aw, still sore about getting rejected by Mark?”

“I wasn’t rejected,” you snapped, turning to face him fully. “It was a misunderstanding.”

“Sure it was,” he drawled, leaning in closer. “But lucky for you, Mark’s not coming home tonight. Think of it as a golden opportunity.”

“Dude, she’s just not that into you,” Karina cut in, her tone flat as she rolled her eyes.

Donghyuck turned to her with a theatrical gasp. “I don’t know about that,” he replied, looking back at you and winking playfully.

You felt a chill run down your spine—not the kind caused by fear or disgust, but the kind that made your skin tingle and sent heat between your thighs. It was infuriating how easily Lee Donghyuck could pull that off, and even more infuriating that your body had the nerve to respond.

But you’d sooner gouge your own eyes out than admit that to him. “Go away, Hyuck,” you said, shoving him lightly with your free hand.

He laughed, stepping back just enough to give you space but staying close enough to remain a nuisance. “See you later, then.”

As he walked off, Karina gave you a side-eye. “You’re not hanging out with that guy, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” you lied, taking another sip of your drink and avoiding her gaze.

“Good. That guy is nothing but trouble,” she replied, glancing back at Donghyuck who had now found another girl to bother.

The next morning, you woke up to the sharp ring of your alarm blaring in your ears. Disoriented, you reached out blindly to silence it, only for your hand to slap the cold, hard floor. Floor? You groaned, peeling your cheek off the surface and wincing at the sticky residue clinging to your skin. Why were you on the floor?

Your head pounded mercilessly, a dull ache that only grew worse as you sat up and tried to piece together what had happened the night before. Your phone buzzed on the table, and when you reached for it, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the black screen: mascara smudged, hair in complete disarray, and a faint red mark on your forehead where you must have hit something.

“Crap,” you muttered, staring at the time. You had twenty minutes to make it to your study session with Renjun!

Scrambling to your feet, you almost tripped over your own feet on your way to the bathroom. No matter how tight your schedule was, you must not skip taking a shower before going out today because you stink. So you stepped under the shower head, using cold water on purpose in hopes that the freezing water would jolt you into wakefulness. You scrubbed your face like it would erase the remnants of last night’s chaos.

What even was last night’s chaos?

Snippets of loud music, flashing lights, and Donghyuck’s smirk popped into your mind, but you shoved them aside. You could recall every bit of last night if you tried hard enough, but there was no time to dwell on your questionable life choices. You threw on a hoodie and jeans, grabbed your bag, and sprinted out the door, hair still damp and heart pounding.

When you reached the library, you were breathing hard, and the cold air made your headache even worse. The library was almost deserted. Pulling out your phone, you texted Renjun to let him know you’d made it, only for his reply to make you cringe.

Renjun: Love your enthusiasm, but aren’t you an hour too early? 😀

The realization came with shame: you were way too eager. There was no other way to spin it. You sat down at a random table, trying to blend into the background despite the fact that the library was far from crowded. You spent the next few minutes scrolling through your phone, distracting yourself from the embarrassment you were feeling inside.

Ten minutes later, Renjun walked in, his usual calm demeanor intact. When he spotted you, he smiled and quickened his pace. “Hi,” he greeted, setting his bag down across from you.

“Hi,” you greeted back, moving your bag out of the desk. “Aren’t we supposed to meet later?”

“Yeah, but you’re already here, so might as well,” he replied, shrugging. “This works better for me, actually, since I have errands later.”

“We could always reschedule, you know?” you suggested, though that was far from what you were feeling inside. “And did you rush here? You look out of breath.”

“Ah.” Renjun chuckled as he grabbed his water bottle and took a huge sip. “I didn’t want you to wait too long, so I rushed out,” he said after a drink.

His words caught you off guard. He looked so nonchalant about it, like it wasn’t a big deal, but the thought of him rushing because of you warmed your chest.

From that day on, Renjun always sat with you during your study sessions. It wasn’t something you planned, but it became an unspoken agreement between the two of you, a rhythm that settled into place without either of you needing to say a word.

Small gestures like him offering his pen when yours ran out of ink felt special, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. It was just convenience, you told yourself, but the way his hand lingered a second too long or the faint smile he’d flash before going back to his notes made it impossible not to wonder.

He’d text you ahead of time if the library was packed, letting you know he’d saved you a seat or that you should just reschedule. You’d thank him, trying to sound casual, but your chest always felt lighter seeing his name light up your screen.

Over time, your study sessions became less about the textbooks and more about getting to know the little things that made Renjun… Renjun. He was a linguistics student who could explain the quirks of syntax or the history of a word with an enthusiasm that made you want to listen, even when you weren’t entirely interested. He liked sci-fi movies—ones with confusing plots and bizarre visuals—and he’d binge them whenever he wasn’t drowning in assignments.

You noticed he had a birthmark on the back of his hand—grayish with a hint of purple, like a bruise that never faded. The first time you commented on it, asking if he’d hurt himself, he chuckled and said, “It’s been there since I was a kid.”

Sometimes, when he was particularly focused, his brows would furrow and his lips would press into a pout that you found annoyingly endearing. You’d have to stop yourself from staring too long, afraid he’d catch you.

Renjun had this habit of quietly humming under his breath while writing notes. It was so soft you almost missed it, but once you noticed, you couldn’t unhear it. When you teased him about it one day, he laughed, embarrassed, but the sound of his laughter stuck with you long after the session ended.

It was in these in-between moments that you realized how much you looked forward to spending time with him—not just as a study buddy, but as someone who made the world feel a little less ordinary.

One afternoon, you caught him sketching in the margins of his notebook while you took notes. His pencil moved with a quiet confidence, tracing lines and curves that turned into an intricate little doodle.

“Is that what you do when you’re bored?” you asked, leaning over to get a better look.

Renjun quickly covered the drawing with his hand, chuckling nervously. “It’s nothing. Just a habit.”

You tilted your head, smiling. “A habit? You’re pretty good.”

He gave you a small smile but didn’t seem convinced by your words.

“I mean it,” you insisted, giving him a sincere look.

He hesitated before glancing down at his notebook. “Thanks,” he said softly, opening his notebook again. “Do you wanna see it?”

“Are you kidding me? Yes!” you giggled, leaning closer to take a look. “I love visual arts. It’s like something I wish I could do but since I don’t have the talent for it, I just settle with appreciating it.”

“Well, I don’t have the talent either. It’s just a hobby,” he replied while you were flipping through the pages of his notebook, admiring the small doodles on the margins.

“You’re too modest,” you chimed, impressed by the effortless beauty of his cute, almost cartoonish art. “I think you’re really good at this.”

Encouraged by your sincerity, he opened up a little. “I liked drawing as a kid. I used to think I’d pursue it as a career, but, you know, priorities. I have a vision of an ideal future which seemed difficult to achieve if I chose art.”

You frowned. “That’s kinda sad.”

He quickly shook his head, his tone light. “I don’t feel that way about it, though. It’s not like I’m completely banned from making art. I’m just putting it on hold for now.”

You watched him closely, noting the way his expression shifted between wistfulness and acceptance. The way he brushed it off so easily tugged at something in you. “Well,” you said after a moment, “for what it’s worth, I think you should keep doing it. Even if it’s just for yourself.”

Renjun looked at you, his lips quirking into a soft smile that lingered a little too long. “Thanks,” he said again, and this time, he sounded like he meant it.

“I think he likes you,” Karina said, sprawled across the couch, hugging a throw pillow with a dreamy grin on her face. “You’ve been spending so much time together lately. I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks you out soon.”

“Agreed,” Giselle added, flipping through a magazine that was clearly not as interesting as this topic. “He really should do it soon.”

You plopped down on the floor with a loud sigh, dramatically draping an arm over your eyes. “You think so?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Jaemin muttered from his spot on the carpet, tossing popcorn into the air and catching it with his mouth. “You’ve barely seen each other outside the library. For all you know, he’s just being nice.”

“Oh, come on,” you shot back, lifting your arm to squint at him. “You don’t see the way he looks at me with this little smile, like…” You mimicked an exaggerated dreamy face.

Karina giggled. “You’re so delusional. It’s cute, though.”

Giselle joined in. “Yeah, the way you’ve been acting lately is straight out of a high school drama. You, of all people, getting excited about study sessions? Who are you?”

“Hey, I’ve always been academically inclined!” you defended, sitting up.

Jaemin snorted. “Cramming at 3 a.m. doesn’t count as ‘academically inclined.’”

You threw a popcorn kernel at him, which he dodged with an annoyingly smug grin. “For your information,” you said, pointing at him with mock indignation, “I’ve been taking notes. Like, actual, color-coded, neat notes. With highlighters.”

“Oh no,” Giselle gasped, feigning horror. “The highlighters! It’s worse than we thought!”

“It’s called being responsible,” you huffed, crossing your arms with a proud smirk.

“It’s called being whipped,” Jaemin corrected, leaning back with a smirk. “You’re not fooling anyone. You’re basically studying because you’re hoping he’ll think you’re smart and fall for you.”

“First of all,” you said, holding up a finger, “Renjun already knows I’m smart.”

Jaemin snorted.

“Second of all,” you continued, ignoring him, “this newfound work ethic has nothing to do with him.”

“Right,” Giselle drawled, shooting Jaemin a look.

“Absolutely nothing,” you repeated with a grin, tossing popcorn into your own mouth.

“Guys, give her a break,” Karina chided softly, though she was grinning playfully too. “Isn’t it good that she’s motivated?”

Giselle snickered, giving you a mischievous side eye. “Anyone would be motivated if they’re being promised some di—”

You cut her off by shoving popcorn in her mouth. “I haven’t been promised anything.”

Giselle chewed her food quickly and started poking your sides. “You’re grinning so hard your face is gonna crack.”

You laughed, playfully swatting her hand away. “I just think it’s nice, okay? To have a study buddy who, like, actually cares if I pass my exams. Unlike some people.” You gave Jaemin a pointed look.

“Hey, I care,” he replied, holding up his hands defensively. “I just don’t think you should fool yourself into thinking it’s anything more than studying.”

Karina laughed. “Don’t listen to him. I think it’s sweet. It’s cute seeing you so motivated, even if it is…” she trailed off, glancing at Giselle.

“Dick-motivated,” she finished bluntly, popping another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

“You’re so gross,” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes at her.

“Hey, I call it like I see it,” Giselle shrugged. 

“I will say this, though, if it’s making you study harder, maybe it’s not the worst thing. We’re freshmen, so you can still pave the way for yourself to graduate with flying colors,” Jaemin added, wiggling his eyebrows. “But you guys need to go out of that library first. Go to the quad for a change. Maybe get coffee together or something.”

“Jaemin,” you said, resting your chin on your hand with an exaggerated pout, “why would I need coffee when Renjun already gives me a caffeine rush by just existing?”

Giselle cackled. “Oh my god, you’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly in love,” you declared dramatically, flopping back onto the floor with a hand over your heart.

Karina shook her head, laughing. “You’re so embarrassing.”

“You love me anyway.”

Jaemin groaned. “No, seriously. Stop living in your fantasy world and ask him to hang out. Outside. Of. The. Library.”

You peeked up at him with a mischievous grin. “But what if he’s waiting for the perfect moment to confess? What if he’s just as nervous as I am?”

“Then you’re both pathetic,” Giselle deadpanned, though her lips twitched like she was holding back a laugh.

“Don’t worry,” you said with mock seriousness. “When we finally get together, I’ll make sure to invite you to the wedding.”

Giselle and Jaemin groaned again, this time louder. “You’re insufferable when you’re like this,” Jaemin complained.

You just laughed, the giddy, teenage-like crush bubbling over until it spilled out of you in the form of exaggerated dramatics. Maybe your friends were right, and you should try to take things further, but for now, you were perfectly content basking in the joy of it all—even if your friends never let you live it down.

However, it seemed like your friends weren’t the only ones bothered about the slow development in your relationship with Renjun. The universe too, knew that it was time for you to leave the safe confines of the campus library. 

It happened on a late Sunday afternoon. You walked into a café, expecting nothing more than a quiet moment with your usual overpriced latte. But then you spotted him—Renjun. He wore a soft expression that caught the golden light streaming through the window, his face almost glowing as he leaned over a notebook. He was sitting alone with a half-empty cup of coffee by his side, his pencil moving in quick, deliberate strokes.

You knew, logically, that Renjun didn’t spend every waking moment in the library. He had a life outside of it, of course. But seeing him in a place without the endless shelves of books and the soothing silence of the library around felt a little weird, in a good way. There was something oddly intimate about it, like you’d stumbled into a part of his life you had never seen before—and in a way, it really was something you hadn’t seen before. 

You were still rooted to the spot, trying to decide whether to turn around and flee or walk over and say hi, when Renjun glanced up—and noticed you. His eyes widened slightly in surprise before his face broke into a small, easy smile. He lifted a hand in a casual wave, gesturing for you to come over.

Well, so much for running away, you thought to yourself as you waved back. You walked over, trying your best to seem like you weren’t overthinking every step. 

“Hey,” he greeted, his smile widening as he closed his notebook and pushed it aside. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You too,” you replied, hoping your voice sounded light and not as jittery as you felt. You glanced around, pretending to take in the café like it wasn’t the hundredth time you’d been there. “I was just gonna grab some coffee but I didn’t expect to run into you here. No offense but I thought your all-time favorite place is the library.”

Renjun chuckled. “Not really. I like coming here when the library gets too quiet.”

You nodded, though his words sent your mind spiraling. He’d been here all this time, escaping the quiet of the library, while you’d been basking in it, thinking it was your shared haven.

“I see, so you come here often?” you asked, cringing internally at how cliché you sounded.

Renjun nodded. “Not as often as I’d like. I get caught up in schoolwork most of the time. But when I do, this is my go-to spot.”

“Cool,” you replied, though you felt anything but. Your mind was screaming at you to think of something interesting to say but all you could do was nod.

“Do you want to join me?” he asked, gesturing to the chair across from him.

The question caught you off guard, and for a second, you just stared at him like he’d asked you to solve an equation without a calculator—and you sucked at Math!

“Yeah, sure,” you said finally, sliding into the seat. As you settled in, the reality of the situation hit you—this was your chance! No library distractions, no pretense of study sessions. Just you and Renjun, in a cozy café, with nothing but time and the faint buzz of espresso machines between you. And suddenly, your usual crush-induced dramatics didn’t seem so silly anymore.

Renjun had this ability to make the simplest moments feel meaningful. Like when he offered to buy you coffee, even remembering your favorite drink—something you’d mentioned in passing weeks ago. You couldn’t help but wonder if he paid this much attention to everyone or if you were, somehow, different—special, in a way. Maybe you were delusional. Maybe he was just polite. But maybe, just maybe, he actually cared.

The two of you talked about random things as the café buzzed quietly around you—favorite movies, weird study habits, how caffeine was both a blessing and a curse. Renjun listened intently, and just when you thought the conversation might drift into silence, he asked, “Why did you choose your major?”

The question caught you off guard, not because it was invasive but because of how thoughtful it was. It wasn’t something you expected to be asked over coffee. You paused, giving yourself a moment to consider your answer.

“I guess I just fell into it,” you admitted, twirling your straw. “It felt like the safe choice, you know? Like something I couldn’t go wrong with. But sometimes, I wonder if I should’ve picked something else. Something I’m actually passionate about.”

Renjun tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “What would that be? If you could choose anything?”

You hesitated, surprised by his genuine interest. “I don’t know. I’m not really passionate about something in particular.”

“Well, you are interested in something though, right?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

You shrugged, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze. “I’m interested in a lot of things, just not interested enough to pursue them.”

“Any hobbies?” he asked again, looking genuinely curious. “They said what you do in your free time says a lot about what you’re passionate about. Sometimes you don’t even realize it.”

“I don’t know if the things I do in my free time are considered hobbies.”

“That’s the general description of hobbies, isn’t it?” He chuckled lightly. “Things you do in your free time?”

You smiled sheepishly. “I know. I do have hobbies and I tried looking at them to see which one would be interesting enough to pursue. Couldn’t decide on one. Everything just seems so generic.”

Renjun’s lips quirked into a small smile, and he nodded like he understood. “I think a lot of people feel that way about the things they love. But it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you simply smiled back, warmth blooming in your chest.

When you mentioned that you were on your way to the library to catch up on assignments, Renjun said he’d join you since he had nothing else to do. Your heart flipped at his casual offer, though your mind immediately began spiraling. Did he actually want to spend more time with you, or was it just convenient?

The evening passed in quiet companionship at the library. While you worked on your assignments, Renjun sketched in his notebook, the sound of his pencil scratching faintly against the paper. You stole glances at him, unable to help yourself. There was something peaceful about the way he was so focused, his  hair falling into his eyes as he worked. At some point, you asked to discuss your assignment with him, hoping to get his opinions on your stance.

When it was time to leave, Renjun offered to walk you home. The offer sent your mind reeling again, but before you could respond, Jaemin showed up, his usual smirk firmly in place. “You guys going somewhere?” he drawled, the mischief in his eyes impossible to miss.

You blinked, barely processing his words, because all you could feel was a faint irritation bubbling up. Of course, Jaemin had to show up now, of all times. You trudged toward him with your brows furrowed. And in a low voice, you scolded him. “What are you doing here? You’re ruining my moment!”

“Karina sent me,” he explained, also lowering his voice. He looked irritated too. “She’s going cuckoo. Said you weren’t picking up your phone and it’s past ten o’clock now.”

You stole a glance at Renjun, who was watching the interaction quietly, his expression curious but unreadable. You cleared your throat. “This is Jaemin,” you said reluctantly, gesturing toward him. “He’s a friend.”

“Best friend. We’ve known each other since we were kids,” Jaemin corrected.

You elbowed him in the rib, making him wince in pain. “Teenagers. We’ve known each other since we were teenagers. He’s my mom’s friend’s son.”

Renjun’s gaze shifted to you briefly, as if silently asking for more context. The slight crease in his brow made your stomach flutter, and you felt the need to elaborate. “My roommate Karina made him come check on me.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And you must be Huang Renjun. I’ve heard so much about you,” he said, offering his hand for a shake.

Renjun took it. “You have?” he asked, his tone polite but clearly surprised.

“Yeah. She’s been talking about—ow!” Before Jaemin could finish, you elbowed him again.

“Thanks for today,” you chimed, smiling brightly at Renjun in an attempt to steer the conversation back to normalcy. “For, you know, the coffee and the help with my assignment.”

Renjun turned to you with an easy smile. “Anytime. Hopefully, I didn’t distract you from it too much.”

“Absolutely not,” you replied, shaking your head.

“That’s good then,” he said with a small nod. “I guess I’ll leave you to it. See you next time?”

The words were casual, but they echoed beautifully in your ears. See you next time? Did he mean that? Like, does he actually want to see you again? Or was it something polite people like him would say? You started overanalyzing right then and there, picking apart his tone, his word choice, the little upward curve of his lips when he said it.

“Yeah. See you next time,” you replied, waving a hand as he gave both of you one last look before exiting the double doors.

Your eyes followed him as he walked away, his silhouette framed by the glow of the library’s lights. It was like your crush had decided to script this scene for maximum drama. You wondered if he’d think about this moment later. Would he replay it in his head the way you would? Probably not.

As soon as the door closed behind Renjun, Jaemin leaned in, pulling you out of your musings. “You’re smiling like a total lovesick fool right now,” he sniggered. “It’s almost painful to watch. Almost.”

Your smile vanished as you shot him a glare, though your cheeks burned. “You’re literally the worst.”

“Maybe. But I’m also the reason Karina’s not hunting you down with a broom, so, you’re welcome.”

You rolled your eyes and started walking toward the exit, Jaemin falling into step beside you. Still, as much as you wanted to be annoyed, your thoughts kept drifting back to Renjun’s soft smile and the way he’d said, See you next time.

Karina and Giselle were at the apartment when you got back. Before Karina could preach about your agreement to let each other know if one of you would come home late, you told them about Renjun and the teasing started immediately. 

“Did he say anything?” Giselle asked, practically bouncing with excitement.

You groaned, dropping onto the couch dramatically. “No, he didn’t say anything. But he wanted to walk me home, kind of.”

“Kind of?” Karina repeated with a laugh.

“He offered, but Jaemin showed up, so it didn’t really count,” you admitted.

“Well, at least he offered,” Giselle pointed out.

“Exactly,” Giselle said. “That’s practically a confession of love in boy language. Men are simple like that.”

“Hey!” Jaemin protested but no one paid any attention.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at the thought. Maybe they were exaggerating. Or maybe you were just hopelessly, blissfully delusional. Either way, you didn’t mind.

The smell of food greeted you as soon as you stepped out of your bedroom, and your stomach rumbled in approval. Following the aroma, you found Jaemin in the kitchen, busily moving around with your hot pink apron tied over his t-shirt.

“Guys, it’s my favorite person in the whole wide world!” you announced dramatically, taking a seat and marveling at the spread of dishes already on the table.

“Stop lying and eat,” Jaemin scolded, his tone sharp but his eyes amused. He carefully set a steaming clay pot in the center of the table, the savory aroma filling the room.

“Na Jaemin, you’re cooking up a feast!” Giselle exclaimed, appearing in the doorway and eyeing the food hungrily. “What’s the occasion?”

Karina came in last, casually pulling her hair into a bun. “I asked him to cook for us because everything in the fridge was about to go bad.”

“Really?” you asked, your spoonful of fried rice hovering mid-air. “All of it?” Without waiting for an answer, you stuffed the spoon into your mouth, letting out a satisfied hum at the flavor.

“Nearly all of it,” Karina confirmed as she sat down next to Giselle. “We haven’t been cooking much lately. The groceries have been untouched for over a week now.”

“Why do we even bother to buy groceries when all we do is order takeout,” Giselle asked, shrugging.

“Hey, don’t say that. We eat home cooked meals sometimes,” you chided, pouting because you were the cook in the house. “Although, I’ll have to admit, I haven’t been cooking much lately.”

“Good thing you have me,” Jaemin said smugly, wiping his hands on the apron. “Everybody say ‘Thank you, Jaemin.’”

“Thank you, Jaemin,” all three of you obliged.

As everyone dug in, Jaemin leaned back, watching you all enjoy the food with a satisfied expression. The sound of clinking utensils and satisfied hums filled the room, and for a moment, you thought this was just another one of Jaemin’s regular ‘save the kitchen’ moments. But then Jaemin reached into his backpack, slung over the back of a chair, and pulled out a small stack of flyers. 

“Speaking of appreciating my genius,” he began, sliding one to each of you, “the fine arts department is hosting an exhibit this weekend. Photography, paintings, sketches—you name it. You guys should come.”

You glanced down at the flyer. The bold text read ‘Life Imitates Art: NCIT Student Art Exhibit’ accompanied by an artsy photo of a painted skyline.

“Oh, this looks cool!” Giselle said, holding up her flyer.

“Of course it does. My department made it,” Jaemin replied smugly. “And, I know someone who loves art and would definitely appreciate this.”

“Who could it be?” Karina muttered, smiling as she glanced at you.

You rolled your eyes at Jaemin’s theatrics, but you couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling in your chest. Art exhibits were totally your thing, and Jaemin knew it. However, the moment you looked back at the flyer, your thoughts drifted to a certain someone.

Would Renjun enjoy something like this? You remembered how he’d once shown you his drawings, shyly flipping through margins of his notebook filled with sketches and doodles of nature, cartoons, and people.  The idea of walking through the gallery with him, admiring the art and sharing thoughts, made your heart skip a beat.

“Will our photos be there?” Giselle asked, pulling you back to reality. “You’ve taken enough pictures of us to fill a gallery.”

Jaemin snickered. “Nope. Freshmen aren’t allowed to participate.”

“What?” the three of you exclaimed in unison, outraged.

“Unfair,” Giselle muttered. “You’re better than half the juniors I know.”

“Exactly!” Karina added, frowning. “Who decided that rule anyway?”

Jaemin shrugged, unbothered. “Rules are rules. Besides, you think I want to deal with more critiques from professors? Hard pass.”

“That’s so lame,” you chimed in, frowning as well. “Your pictures of us deserve to be up there.”

“Flattery won’t change anything,” Jaemin replied with a grin. “But you will come to the exhibit, right?”

“Of course,” Karina answered immediately.

“Definitely,” Giselle said, nudging you. “Right?”

“Obviously,” you replied with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Do we have to RSVP, or can we just show up?” Karina asked.

“Just show up. But get there early—it’ll be packed,” Jaemin said. Then he turned to you specifically, raising an eyebrow. “And don’t flake.”

“Who, me?” you said, feigning innocence. “I’d never miss a chance to see what the fine arts department cooked up. You know that.”

The conversation continued with Jaemin fielding questions about the exhibit, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how to casually bring it up with Renjun. Would it be weird to invite him? Would he even want to come?

By the time dinner was over, your mind was already racing with possible scenarios. One thing was clear: you needed to find a way to mention the exhibit to Renjun without sounding like you were asking him on a date. Even though that’s exactly what you were hoping for.

Three days later, you wondered how you managed to invite Renjun to the exhibit without fumbling over your words too much. The memory of your awkward phrasing made you cringe slightly every time it replayed in your head, but here you were—standing next to him in the middle of the gallery, surrounded by art.

He seemed genuinely interested in the pieces, his eyes darting from one frame to another with a quiet intensity. Every now and then, he’d point something out—a brushstroke technique in a painting or the composition of a photograph—and you’d nod along, pretending you weren’t hyper-focused on the way his lips curved as he spoke. 

Normally, you’d be more proactive than this. You could talk about art and techniques for days. But at the time, you were more focused on spending the time with him that you could only listen to his thoughts. You offered some of your own comments, but not as much as you would when it was someone else there with you.

The exhibit didn’t lead to anything romantic, as you’d half-hoped. There were no magical moments, no grand gestures, no accidentally brushing hands that sent sparks flying. But somehow, that was okay. You were content just being there with him.

Dinner was a grander affair than the exhibit, to you, at least. It wasn’t anything fancy—just fast food at a brightly lit diner. You sat across from each other, unwrapping burgers and sipping on sodas, talking about this and that.

As you both ate, the conversation drifted to lighter topics—how the exhibit had surprised you both with its variety, how one of the paintings reminded him of a place he’d visited as a kid, and the sheer horror of seeing the price tags on some of the pieces.

“Five thousand dollars for that?” he exclaimed, gesturing vaguely as if the painting were still in front of him.

“Art is subjective,” you replied with a shrug.

Renjun shook his head, biting into a fry. “Subjective or not, I think my two-year-old cousin could’ve done that with finger paints.”

You laughed, nearly choking on your drink. “Okay, now you’re just being mean. But honestly, same.”

After a pause, he leaned forward slightly. “Do you like art? Like genuinely?”

You nodded, pushing your tray aside. “Yeah. I mean, I’m not an expert or anything, but I like looking at it. It’s relaxing, and sometimes it makes you think about stuff in a different way.”

“I see. Art can make people feel feelings.”

“What about you?” you asked, tilting your head cutely. “Do you just doodle on your notebooks or do you, like, genuinely want to pursue it?”

“I like sketching, but I’m more into digital arts,” he admitted, his voice quieter. “Like I said, it’s more of a hobby. I don’t think I’m good enough to call myself an artist or anything.”

“You do digital arts?” you asked, leaning forward with genuine interest. “That’s so cool! I thought you just sketch on the margins because you want your hands to not stop moving.”

Renjun chuckled heartily, looking a little sheepish. “I do like art a lot. And yeah, maybe I doodle on my notes because I don’t know what to do with my hands sometimes.”

“Can I see them?” you said firmly, leaning closer.

He blinked, surprised. “What?”

“Your digital arts. Can I see them?” you asked and Renjun shrugged. “Only if you wanna show them, of course.”

“Maybe,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “If I ever think they’re worth showing.”

The conversation shifted naturally from there. You learned that Renjun liked savory food more than sweets, that he loved sci-fi movies and old-school animation, and that his favorite season was summer because it was warmer.

In return, you told him about your favorite books and the time you’d tried to paint but ended up with more paint on yourself than the canvas.

Renjun’s laugh came easily, and you found yourself wanting to hear it more. “Sounds like you’d be a hit at one of those paint-and-sip nights.”

“Only if the wine is good,” you replied, grinning.

At one point, he pointed at your tray. “You’re not going to finish that?”

You glanced at the fries you’d left untouched. “No, I’m stuffed. Why? You want them?”

“Waste not, want not,” he said, sliding the tray toward himself.

“Do you even like cold fries?”

“Food is food,” he replied simply, popping one into his mouth.

It was such a small thing, but the casual ease of the moment made your heart warm. You wanted to believe this connection, this closeness, was something meaningful—something real.

But doubt crept in, uninvited and persistent. Was this really going anywhere? Renjun was affecting you more than you’d expected—your mood, your energy, even your plans. You were falling so fast, yet he hadn’t even shown you anything to suggest he was on the same page. Every small gesture, every laugh, every lingering glance—you found yourself dissecting them, overthinking, convincing yourself they meant something when they might not.

Would you be okay if the spark you felt wasn’t mutual?

When dinner was over, the two of you stepped outside, only to find it raining. The kind of rain that drenched you in seconds if you stepped out without an umbrella. You both stood under the awning of the restaurant, staring out into the drizzle. The air was cold, and small splashes of water reached your feet, soaking through your shoes.

Renjun stood beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him even in the chilly air. Despite the miserable weather, you didn’t feel annoyed. If anything, the rain seemed to add a certain weight to the moment—a quiet intimacy that made your heart ache in a good way.

You wondered what he was thinking. Was he just as hyper-aware of the proximity between you as you were? Did he feel the way your shoulders nearly brushed every time one of you shifted your weight?

“I didn’t check the forecast,” he murmured, his voice cutting through the rhythmic sound of raindrops hitting the ground. “Guess we’re stuck here for a while.”

You nodded, your hands buried in your pockets. “Yeah. Bummer.”

It was a half-hearted reply, and you hoped he didn’t notice how your voice trembled, not from the cold but from the nervous energy bubbling in your chest.

“What should we do now?” he asked after a moment, turning slightly to look at you.

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to say anything coherent. “No idea,” you mumbled, keeping your gaze firmly on the rain.

Then, without warning, you felt his hands on your shoulders. The touch was light but firm enough to make your heart leap. Before you could even process it, Renjun had pulled you closer, draping his jacket over both your heads.

“Alright,” he said, his tone suddenly full of determination. “We’re making a run for it.”

“What?!” You looked up at him, wide-eyed, half-hidden under the shared shelter of his jacket.

“It’s just rain,” he said with a grin that sent your stomach into a flurry of butterflies. “If we don’t do this, we’ll be stuck here all night.”

You hesitated for a split second, but his enthusiasm was contagious. “Fine,” you relented, unable to suppress a small laugh.

“That’s the spirit,” he said, his smile widening. “Ready?”

“Not really,” you admitted, but before you could overthink it, Renjun tightened his hold on you, and the two of you darted out into the rain.

The world seemed to blur as you ran, your laughter mingling with his as water splashed up around your feet. The jacket did little to shield you, and soon, droplets of rain were sliding down your cheeks and soaking through your clothes. But you didn’t care—not when Renjun was pulling you along, his own laugh ringing like music in your ears.

When you finally reached the bus shed, you stumbled to a halt, breathless and soaked but grinning from ear to ear. Renjun let out a relieved sigh, shaking his wet hair like a puppy, which only made you laugh harder.

“We made it!” he announced, his voice tinged with mock heroics.

“Barely,” you shot back, pushing your damp hair out of your face. “I didn’t know you were the type to do something like that. You’re insane.”

“Insane or genius?” he countered, raising an eyebrow as he leaned against the metal pole of the shed.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your smile. The rain continued to pour, the sound of it hitting the roof above you creating a soothing rhythm. You both stood there, catching your breath, the moment stretching into something quiet and tender.

“Thank you for today,” Renjun looked at you, his expression softening. “I’m really glad we did this.”

The way he said it made your heart flutter, but before you could dwell on it too long, he added with a teasing grin, “Even if I had to brave the rain for it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Totally worth it, though.”

“Totally,” he agreed, his gaze lingering on you just a little too long.

For a moment, you thought he might say something else—or that you might—but the sound of car horns broke through your silence, and you both turned to watch the busy streets. The road in front of you was alive with motion—cars speeding past, their headlights streaking through the rain-soaked night. Most of the taxis that passed were already occupied, and when Renjun checked the bus schedule on his phone, he sighed. 

“Caught in traffic,” he said, showing you the GPS map with the slow-moving icon of your bus.

“I figured,” you replied, leaning against the metal pole of the waiting shed. But oddly enough, you didn’t mind. Despite being drenched and stranded, you were having fun.

“Well,” he said, giving the jacket a rueful look before glancing at you, “I’d offer you this, but it’s basically a sponge at this point.”

You shook your head, smiling. “It’s fine. We’re already wet. What difference would it make?”

He shrugged, tucking the useless jacket under his arm. “Fair enough.”

The two of you spent the next few minutes chatting about anything and everything—jokes about how your shoes squelched when you moved, your terrible luck with rain, and a particularly embarrassing story Renjun shared about slipping on wet pavement once.

Then your gaze wandered to the poster on the wall of the waiting shed. It was an advertisement for some soft drink, with bright colors and cheerful models smiling down at you. Or at least, they had been cheerful—someone had scribbled on their faces with marker, adding mustaches and angry eyebrows.

You tilted your head, amused. “What are your thoughts on this piece?” you asked, the same way you’d asked him about the artworks in the gallery earlier that day.

Renjun followed your gaze and chuckled. Then he put on a serious face, as if he was seriously thinking about it. “It’s tasteful, yes. Based on the lines, I think the artist made this on the spot. A spontaneous piece. Overall, it’s top-tier art.”

You tilted your head at the poster, humming in disagreement. “I think it’s mid-tier at most.”

“Think you could do better?” he challenged.

“I’m not much of an artist.”

“Well, how about this?” he said, pulling a pen out of his pocket with a mischievous grin.

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that for?”

“To write,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Vandalism?”

He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re probably gonna change those posters soon anyway. Might as well leave our mark.”

You grinned, loving the gleam of mischief in his eyes that was too tempting to resist. “Alright,” you said, taking the pen from his hand.

You leaned toward the poster, careful not to smudge it too much with your damp sleeve, and drew the best fox drawing you could make, unsuccessfully, but you were content with it. Then you wrote in large, messy letters: CUTE LITTLE FOX, INJUN.

“That’s a fox?” Renjun asked, surprised. You nodded with a grin. “Looks more like a wet squirrel.”

“That’s fine. Art is subjective,” you scoffed, handing him the pen. “Your turn.”

He shook his head, laughing. Beneath your writing, he drew a cartoon girl who resembled you, and added: YOU’RE MUCH CUTER THAN THE FOX ^_^

The two of you stepped back to admire your masterpiece, grinning like a couple of kids who’d just gotten away with a prank. “Think it’ll make someone’s day?” you asked.

“Either that or they’ll roll their eyes and wonder what middle schoolers did this,” Renjun replied, pocketing the pen.

When the bus finally pulled up, its headlights cutting through the rain, you both boarded, still laughing. As you climbed the steps, you turned back for a moment and snapped a quick picture of your vandalism.

Renjun noticed and leaned closer to take a look at your screen. “What’s that for?”

“Evidence,” you said with a smirk. “Just in case the poster police comes after us.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile as the two of you found seats near the back of the bus, the sound of rain and the hum of the engine accompanying your ride home.

That weekend, while your friends were out doing their own thing, you were in your bedroom, grinning at your phone. You spent the morning scrolling through the pictures you took with Renjun the day before—zooming into his face and admiring the features you’d grown so fond of in the last few weeks. The picture you took of the graffiti was posted in your stories, and you kept checking who’d seen it, hoping one of them would be Renjun himself.

You wished there was an excuse to go out and meet him, but there wasn’t any. Even if there was a valid excuse, you probably wouldn’t act on it because you were worried about being too obvious. Besides, anything you say to invite him outside would only seem like an eager attempt to see him. So you opted to wait till the next time you can hang out with him.

“It’s still Saturday morning?” you grumbled upon seeing the date and time on your phone. “Has the weekend always been this slow?”

As soon as Monday rolled in, you went to your classes with a bounce in your step, listening intently to the lectures and hoping time passed faster. When it was all over, you skipped to the library knowing Renjun would already be there.

And so it continued. The library was your sanctuary as usual, but after a few more days of hunching over the same cramped desks and flickering fluorescents, you suggested a change of scenery. Renjun wasn’t keen on the idea at first, but you managed to convince him to see the appeal of the wide open space and the green grass of the quad just outside the library.

You would spread a small blanket on the grass, and sprawl there with your books or laptops. There were times when your friends would join you but when they did, you’d spend the time chatting instead of studying, so you limited their participation.

Other times, you opted for the cozy cafe outside the campus,  books spread across the table. That space was more intimate and somehow, private. You would read through notes and discuss theories over coffee and dessert. Sometimes, you’d just be talking about random things.

At a glance, it would seem like you spend every day with him without fail, but that wasn’t the case. You studied together once every two days, for only two to three hours max. But it was enough time to fall harder for Renjun. When you weren’t together, you’d be thinking of him. And when he was right before your eyes, your thoughts would still be filled with him. When you were out doing things you usually did with your friends, you wondered who he was hanging out with, or what he did when he wasn’t buried in books.

One day, Renjun suggested a detour after your study session. “There’s this little bookshop near campus,” he said. “It’s got a good vibe. You’ll like it.”

You followed him through winding streets until you reached a hole-in-the-wall shop with dusty windows and a bell that jingled as you entered. The air smelled like old paper and candles. Renjun drifted toward the art section, his fingers skimming the spines of books.

“Here,” he said, pulling one out and handing it to you. “This one’s good.”

You looked at the title, a collection of essays on creativity. A smile tugged at your lips as you were reminded of the time Renjun complimented a creative essay you once showed him. “Are you trying to inspire me?”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “The piece you showed me last time was really good. You need to write more of those.”

You hummed, looking around the shop. Your eyes stopped at a shelf of vintage sketchbooks and canvasses. “Well, in that case, you should sketch more,” you told him, beaming as you led him toward said shelf so you could pick one.

Later, back at your apartment, you flipped through the book, pausing on a passage about capturing fleeting moments. You thought of Renjun—his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the quiet intensity when he was focused on his work. Your chest tightened with both affection and frustration. Just how much longer could you go on without telling him how you felt?

As long as you could, it seemed. The days passed, and the feelings only grew stronger, but Renjun remained blissfully unaware. Sometimes you wondered if he truly didn’t know, or if he was just pretending not to. You’d catch little moments—a smile, a glance—but you dismissed them. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe you were imagining it all.

You couldn’t bring yourself to make the first move. You were too shy, too scared of risking everything, too afraid that the warmth you thought you saw in his eyes was nothing more than your imagination. If you never confessed, you could never be rejected. And so, you kept quiet. It was easier this way. But even in the silence, you couldn’t stop wondering if he ever thought about you the same way.

And so it goes.

One day, you sprawled out on a blanket beneath the oak tree in the quad. Karina joined you, which was fine because she wasn’t as noisy as Giselle or Jaemin. Renjun was supposed to be studying, but he was sketching in his notebook instead, the soft scratch of pencil against paper the only sound you could hear from him.

You tried to focus on your notes, but your eyes kept drifting to him—how his brow furrowed in concentration, his lips pressed together in that adorable way that made your chest tighten. His focus was so intense, so effortless, and it made you wonder if he even knew how attractive it was.

“What are you drawing?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Just something,” Renjun replied, turning the sketchpad slightly toward you. “It’s not finished.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” you said, genuinely impressed by the details of his art. You glanced up at the oak tree, which was clearly the reference for his sketch. “How old do you think this tree is?”

Karina looked up from her tablet, following your gaze. “Probably a few decades old.”

“Seventy-three,” Renjun said, his eyes still on the tree. “They said it was planted by the founder of this school. It’s been here since.”

You smiled, looking back at the tree with new eyes. “Is that why it’s in such a weird spot on the school grounds? I always thought it looked out of place.”

“Hi, Jun!” she said, pulling your attention away. She was pretty, with an effortless kind of grace that immediately made you wonder who she was.

“Hi, Lia,” Renjun greeted back with a smile, and you couldn’t help but measure how much of a smile it was. Was it just friendly, or was there something more?

“Is that a sketchbook?” she asked, leaning down to peek over his shoulder.

“Uh, yeah,” Renjun said, closing it quickly, though not before she caught a glimpse of the pages.

“Wow,” she said, her smile widening. “You’re so talented. I didn’t know you could draw.”

Renjun laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “I can, though I’m not that good at it.”

You felt your jaw clench as she lingered, her gaze fixed on him. It wasn’t subtle—how she twirled her hair, leaned just a little too close, like she was trying to get his attention in the most obvious way. But Renjun seemed oblivious, like it was all just normal.

Beside you, Karina tugged at your sleeve. When you exchanged looks, you saw the same confusion in her eyes.

“Who’s that?” she mouthed, and you could only shrug, your stomach tightening with an unfamiliar knot.

After she left, you tried to play it cool, but Renjun noticed the shift in your mood. “Everything okay?” he asked, tilting his head in that endearing way.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile that felt like a mask. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

It was hard to ignore the knot of frustration that settled in your stomach—jealousy, confusion, possessiveness. The way Lia had leaned in just a little too close, the way she smiled at him like she knew something you didn’t—it made your heart twist. You weren’t oblivious to it. She was clearly a competition. And you hated how much that thought stung.

But then, you reminded yourself: you were in no position to feel frustrated or jealous. You couldn’t expect him to cater to your feelings when you hadn’t done anything to express them. And even if he did know, he didn’t owe you anything. Just because you had feelings for him didn’t mean he was obligated to cater to whatever unspoken expectations you’d built in your head.

And so it goes. You stayed quiet, enjoying his company and hoping he’d one day confirm that he too had feelings for you. That all this time, he’d been keeping it to himself worried that it might ruin your friendship.

“Worried about your hair?” Renjun teased one day, while you were standing outside the cafe under the dull gray sky. It has started drizzling and you were wondering if you could make a run for it.

“No,” you shot back, laughing. “Are you worried about yours?”

“No, but just in case…” He reached into his bag and pulled out a bright yellow umbrella with cartoon characters. “I brought an umbrella.”

You stared at it, then at him. “Did you steal that from your little cousin or something?”

“It’s mine, actually,” he corrected nonchalantly. “I got it yesterday.”

“You’re walking around campus with that?” you snickered.

“Hey, Moomin is cool,” he said, unfazed. He popped the umbrella open. “And it’s functional.”

You giggled. “I’m just teasing you. I think it’s very cute.”

Renjun gave you a deadpan stare. “Ha-ha. Thanks,” he said sarcastically.

The two of you huddled under the umbrella, the sound of rain pattering against it. The closeness made your heart race, and you were hyper-aware of the way his shoulder brushed yours as you walked side by side. By the time you reached the library, your cheeks felt warm despite the chill of the rain.

Inside, you settled at a desk by the window. Renjun started sketching again, and you observed him quietly, wondering how much longer you could keep your feelings bottled up. You didn’t know how much longer you could stand being this close to him and not telling him everything.

You busied yourself with an assignment, racking your brain and going through your notes to come up with the best output. Anything to distract yourself from Renjun. And it worked for a while, until the appearance of a certain someone made it impossible to focus on anything at all.

“Renjun,” Lia said, appearing beside your desk with a hand on his shoulder. “Do you have a minute?”

“What’s up?” Renjun asked, setting his pencil down.

“There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Sure. What is it?”

Lia glanced at you with a glint of embarrassment in her eyes. “Can we talk there?”

“Alright.” Renjun nodded, rising to his feet. He gave you a small smile and a nod before following Lia.

You stayed at the table, your fingers fidgeting with the corner of your notebook. You tried to focus on the notes spread across the table, but your eyes kept darting toward the direction Renjun and Lia had gone. What could they possibly be talking about? A prickle of curiosity crept under your skin, impossible to ignore. The logical part of you insisted it was none of your business. But another part—a louder, restless part—was dying to know.

Your fingers tapped rhythmically against the notebook, and your knee was bouncing uncontrollably under the table. You glanced out at the rain, trying to convince yourself to stay put, to respect their privacy, but your thoughts were spinning out of control. What if she was confessing? What if he said yes?

You shook your head, banishing the thought. You didn’t even know what they were talking about. For all you knew, it could be about something entirely irrelevant to confessions and feelings. Still, your chest tightened at the idea of them sharing something you weren’t a part of. Once again, you tried to focus on your work, but your resolve crumbled with each passing second.

“Fuck this,” you muttered, and before you knew it, your legs were moving, carrying you toward the shelves where they had disappeared. Your heart thudded in your ears as you peeked around the corner. There they were, standing by the window, their voices low.

“I hope this doesn’t make things awkward between us,” Renjun said, his tone warm. “You’re an amazing friend, and I’d hate to lose that.”

“No, not at all,” Lia assured him. “I actually just wanted to get that off my chest. Thanks for being honest.”

You covered your mouth, stopping the gasp that almost escaped your lips. You were right after all. Lia was confessing her feelings for Renjun!

They continued chatting briefly, their tones light and unstrained. You couldn’t hear everything they said, but it was clear there was no animosity. Lia seemed to take it well, laughing softly at something Renjun said before they started walking back.

Panicking, you quickly ducked behind another shelf, snatching a random book. When they passed by, you waited a few more moments before returning to the table. You then sat down across from Renjun, and when he noticed you, he gave you that easy smile that always made your chest flutter.

“Where were you?” he asked, one hand flipping a page in his sketchpad.

“I just grabbed something from there,” you lied, showing him the book you took from the shelf. “Are you done talking?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Nice, you thought to yourself, smiling. I think I’m good too.

By the time the rain had stopped, you were done with your assignment and Renjun had packed his sketchpad away. These days, he had been drawing a lot, and it made you giddy each time you saw him take out the vintage sketchbook you got for him. Sometimes, you liked to think he was properly practicing his art because of you, but that was just something you told yourself. He didn’t really say or do anything to back it up.

As you glanced out the window, sunlight began to peek through the rain clouds, and you gestured toward it. “Looks like the weather is getting better. Should we head out?”

“Sure,” Renjun said, tucking his pencil into his bag. “We’ve been here long enough.”

The two of you walked side by side, the damp air cool against your skin. Renjun tugged on the sling of his bag, his gaze distant, as though he had something on his mind. You didn’t press him, though you were wondering what was bothering him. It was unusual to see him so conflicted—Renjun, who was always so calm and composed.

You let the silence stretch, looking around the campus grounds. There was nothing you could think of saying, and it didn’t seem like Renjun was in the headspace to talk about anything either. But then he let out a deep sigh, making you glance at him.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, peeking at his face.

“Nothing, just…” he trailed off, his voice low with a hint of uncertainty. “Have you ever had a friend confess their feelings for you?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, maybe? I mean, I think most of the people who confessed to me were my friends at first.”

In your mind, you were wondering if he was asking because of his conversation with Lia earlier.

His lips quirked in a faint smile, though his eyes stayed distant. “Yeah, I figured. It’s just... earlier, Lia said she liked me. Romantically.”

You knew that already. “Okay. What happened?”

“Apparently, she felt that we had a really good connection. She enjoyed hanging out with me and started liking me because I was nice and all that.”

You hummed, urging him to continue.

“It got me thinking, I should probably draw lines with friendship. As flattering as it was to be ‘liked’, I don’t really want to keep unintentionally leading people on,” he continued, tugging your jacket sleeves gently to veer you away from a puddle.

“That’s fine. You can do that,” you told him, your eyes lingering on his hand on your jacket. “But it’s not your fault if people get the wrong idea. There’s nothing wrong with you or your personality. That’s just how you are as a person.”

“You think so?”

You glanced up at him. “Yeah. But I do understand Lia though. It happens to some. Sometimes people catch feelings, even if they know they shouldn’t,” you chuckled, hoping Renjun wouldn’t notice you were literally talking about yourself.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, shrugging. “I wasn’t trying to make her like me like that. I’ve spent way more time with you than with her, but you don’t feel that way for me.”

You froze mid-step, your breath catching in your throat as a jolt of panic engulfed you. Your chest was tightening as if all the air was being sucked out of you. Renjun kept walking ahead, oblivious, until he realized you weren’t beside him

“What are you doing?” he asked and you couldn’t answer him, so you bit your lip nervously.

What should you do? Should you let his assumption slide? Or should you finally be honest and tell him what’s been bugging you all this time? What if you said something you couldn’t take back?

“Is something wrong?” he asked again, reaching for your shoulder.

“I-I…” you stammered, locking eyes with him. His gaze was steady, but your thoughts were a mess. You swallowed hard. “You’re wrong. I do feel that way.”

It was his turn to be stunned. His brows furrowed slightly, and his hand on your shoulder loosened as he looked at you with an unreadable expression. 

“Actually, I have felt that way before we even became friends,” you continued. Your chest tightened further, but there was no turning back now. “It was just a crush at first, but I got to know you and I just fell harder. I have feelings for you, Renjun and I don’t know what to do with it. I just know I had to tell you about it.”

Renjun still didn’t say anything, flustered and confused by your sudden confession. In your mind, you were screaming, hoping you could fast forward and skip this part because it was making you cringe with embarrassment. But you couldn’t back out—not now that you’d spilled everything out.

The two of you continued to stare at each other, seemingly communicating with your eyes but not coming to an understanding. Your mind raced with questions and possibilities, all pointing at Renjun and begging for him to finally say something. Every brain cell in your head was rioting, a chaos that was the complete opposite of the weighted silence stretching between you and Renjun.

And when his hand  slowly slipped away from your shoulder, you held your breath again, bracing yourself for what was about to come.

“I’m so sorry.”

Your heart sank to your stomach, and you released the breath you were holding. Those three words—though short and straightforward—were enough to sum up everything Renjun was about to say. You already knew what it meant, and despite the heavy weight settling on your chest at his words, you somehow hoped he’d surprise you with a plot twist.

“I swear I didn’t have any bad intentions,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I really just wanted to be friends with you. I didn’t realize…” He trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh.

You nodded, even though the words stung. He didn’t need to finish for you to understand. “It’s alright. I understand.”

He sighed your name out, shoulders sagging as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. You smiled, despite the turmoil in your head. It was hard to explain the mess of emotions swirling inside you—hurt, embarrassment, frustration—but you forced it down. You could handle this. You could take it like an adult.

“Renjun, it’s fineee,” you said, your voice a little lighter than you felt. You laughed softly, almost as if to convince yourself. “I said I wanted to tell you about it. I wasn’t asking you to reciprocate or anything.”

He still looked uncertain, his brows furrowed with that familiar concern you could never shake. But you didn’t want to drag this out any longer, didn’t want to let him see how much his words had hit you. It wasn’t his fault.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” you added, giving him a small wave as if to dismiss the whole conversation. “We’re still friends. Nothing’s changed.”

Renjun hesitated for a moment, still looking at you like he wasn’t sure how to handle your response. You could tell he wasn’t completely convinced, and that made you want to reassure him more.

“Really,” you said with a shrug, “I’m fine. Let’s just go. I’m starving. I need to get home and make some food, otherwise I’d be eating takeout again for dinner.”

You both continued down the path, the sound of your footsteps against the wet pavement the only noise between you. Renjun didn’t say anything more, but you could feel his gaze on you, lingering with that worried expression. He was probably still processing everything. You could almost hear him overthinking it in his head, trying to figure out if he had somehow hurt you.

But for now, you were just grateful to keep moving. You had your pride, and you had your space. And for a moment, despite the mess of it all, you felt a small wave of relief.

You said you’d be fine, that nothing would change between you and Renjun. But as the last few days of the semester rolled around, you found yourself doing what any mature, emotionally stable woman would do—avoid him like the plague. You had a perfectly reasonable excuse—last-minute assignments and projects that seemed to always appear every end of semester. You were both swamped with coursework, so really, it wasn’t avoidance; it was just conveniently timed busyness. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You also told yourself it was just temporary. You’d heal, bounce back, and return to being the friend who could sit across from Renjun without your stomach twisting into knots. After all, you were still friends. Nothing had changed, right?

Wrong. In the quiet moments, when there was nothing to distract you from your thoughts, the truth would play itself on a loop: it had changed. The ache that would creep in your chest was sharp and annoyingly persistent like a bad pop song stuck on repeat. No matter how hard you tried to bury it under denial, it kept rising to the surface, demanding to be felt.

When Renjun texted you, your responses were cheerful, using the same emojis and the same upbeat tone to mask the fact that your heart was broken. You couldn’t tell if he bought it, but since his replies sounded as casual as ever, you figured your performance deserved an Oscar. Or at least a participation trophy for effort.

Your roommates, Karina and Giselle, noticed it. They could tell something was off. You had always been the one who kept things light and bright, the one who filled the room with laughter and jokes. But now, they could see the small cracks. They could hear the silence that replaced your usual chatter, the way you kept to yourself more often. Even your jokes had gone from playful to suspiciously self-deprecating. 

“Girl, you don't look okay. Like, at all!” Giselle had told you once.

“This is fine,” you’d said with a lopsided grin. “I’m just living my sad rom-com arc. All I need now is a montage of me crying in the rain, but the weather isn’t cooperating.”

It was even more obvious to Jaemin, who, instead of teasing you or trying to get under your skin, seemed to have adopted a strategy of quiet support. He didn’t press you to talk, didn’t try to fix things, and—bless him—didn’t say, “I told you so”. You appreciated the space, but you also hated the awkwardness that had replaced his usual antics. You didn’t like it when he walked on eggshells around you, and it only made you feel worse.

“You know you can talk to us, right?” Karina offered again one night, her voice full of concern. “You don’t have to keep it all in.”

“Thanks, but really, I’m fine,” you said, waving her off with a half-hearted laugh. “This is character development. Pain builds personality, or something like that.”

Giselle handed you a tub of ice cream. “Here, have a snack while your character is developing.”

No amount of jokes or distractions could fully numb your heartache. You kept telling yourself you’d get through it, that it would pass, but every time you were alone with your thoughts, the weight settled back onto your chest. You weren’t sure how long you could keep pretending to be okay, but for now, the show had to go on.

Then, by the time spring break was around the corner, the heaviness in your chest had started to lift. It wasn’t gone entirely but it wasn’t as sharp as it had been two weeks ago. You were finding your way back to yourself already. Giselle even pointed it out one evening while you were packing for the trip home.

“Hey, look at you, humming again,” she teased, flopping onto your bed. “I was starting to think Renjun broke you for good.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled at her. “Oh please. He wasn’t even a fling. Being rejected by a crush wouldn’t break me,” you said, folding another shirt into your bag. “Besides, it’s my first spring break. I can’t walk out of this campus brokenhearted.”

“Aha, I see you’ve found your lost vigor for real fun.” Giselle gave you an approving nod, like a coach satisfied with her team’s performance. “Progress. I’ll take it.”

The next day, as you walked across campus for one last errand before heading home, you spotted Renjun. He was walking toward the library, balancing a stack of books in one hand and holding his bag in the other. You hesitated for a moment, instinctively considering walking in the opposite direction, but the impulse passed as quickly as it came.

You reminded yourself you were okay now—or at least getting there. Avoiding him would only keep you stuck, and besides, the two of you were still friends. Nothing had changed. Right?

“Hey,” you called out, jogging up to him.

Renjun turned at the sound of your voice, a small smile forming when he saw you. “Oh, hey! I thought you left already.”

“Not yet. I’m heading out later today,” you said, nodding at the books in his hand. “Still cramming in some last-minute reading?”

“No, I’m returning these,” he said with a chuckle. “What about you? Got big plans for spring break?”

You grinned. “Are you kidding me? Of course, it’s our first one as college students. You?”

He shrugged, trying to keep his tone light. “Just going home. Last night, my mom sent me a whole list of chores waiting for me when I get back.”

You laughed, and for a moment, it felt easy between you two again, like the past few weeks hadn’t happened.

“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly, his tone softening. “Sorry. I’ve been meaning to ask, but I thought it would be wrong to bring it up when we’re not face-to-face.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his question. For a moment, you thought about brushing it off, but you realized you didn’t need to. Not anymore. “I wasn’t,” you admitted with a small smile. “But only for a bit. I’m okay now. Really.”

Renjun studied your face, his expression unreadable, before he nodded. “Good. I’m glad.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, and for once, it wasn’t suffocating. It didn’t feel like something was left unsaid or hanging in the air.

“Well,” he said, shifting his bag on his shoulder, “I should get going. Have fun doing… whatever it is you do during spring break.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned. “You have fun with your chores too.”

“I don’t know if I will, but I’ll make sure to try,” he replied, chuckling. “Text me if you need anything though, okay? Or if you're bored, I don't know. Just... Feel free to talk to me whenever you want."

“I will,” you promised, waving as you walked away.

As you made your way across campus, you fished your phone out of your pocket, remembering that Karina once told you about a confessions page on X. It was called NCIT Campus Confessions, and after skimming through the posts, you typed in a submission of your own:

To HRJ, Maybe I will finally learn my lesson. -xx

You felt lighter. Maybe not entirely free from the disappointment, but enough to know that you’d be okay. After all, it wouldn’t do to carry heartache with you to a place as vibrant and alive as Aruba.

[fin]

[just-some-random-blogger]

I Win, You Lose

Pedro Pascal x Actress!Reader

Summary: In Loving Memory of Pedro Pascal, the best bachelor that ever graced the planet. He's not dead, he just got into a relationship and I'm in mourning.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, extremely delusional, socmed au, crack fic, use of y/n smh, fluff, im on my final straw, typos, etc.

A/N: listen pedro pascal is a happy pill for me and i just wanna be silly goofy so let me have this or else i will cry. Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @amis-love-bugs @top1bbgloak @sunfairyy @djarinsstuff @mooniesyubi @pedropascalgirly @mmmmandoz @multifandom-fangirl4

Flickering lights. Hollering paparazzi. Click, flash, shudder. Pedro smiles through it all then is redirected to a few interviewers.

The interviewer he is redirected to beams at the sight of him, adjusting his grip on his mic, "hi! How are you?"

Pedro smiles, "I'm good. How are you?"

"I'm great! I'm so excited to see what you have in store for us, as I'm sure everyone else is," he motions to the camera.

Pedro places a hand on his heart. He thanks him, "that means a lot. I'm excited for everyone to see as well."

"Are you nervous at all?"

Pedro blows a raspberry, "I feel like I'm about to pass out any second."

He laughs, "is that the same thing you felt when you were talking to Y/N Y/L/N?"

Pedro's eyes widen a fraction. He lets out a chuckle then stills for a second before playfully slapping the man's arm. He laughs so hard that he can't respond. His face grows a bit red.

The interviewer laughs with him.

Pedro regains his wits, "I won't lie to you, my brain disconnected when she fixed my tie."

"Oh yeah," he agrees, nonchalant, "she did that to me once-"

"SHE DID?!" Pedro gasps.

"-and my- Yeah, she did-"

"When?" Pedro furrows his brows and points a finger, "right now? Right now?! You're not even wearing a tie!"

"No! No! Last time!"

"Well," he purses his lips and raises his brows, "hate to break it to ya, but she fixed my tie, like, 5 seconds ago." He rolls his eyes.

The interviewer raises his hands, "you're right. You win."

"Yes, that's correct."

Y/N Y/L/N poses with Pedro Pascal and stuns in blue dress

pascaldailyupdates: Okay but y/n and pedro 👀👀👀👀

anakinskyrunnin: 🧍‍♀️ this wasn't on my bucket list

ynforgetsramen: WHY ARE THEY POSING LIKE THAT

→ oscarpascal replied: THE WAY HE LOOKIN HER HAS ME ILL

→ → ynishotok replied: ??? CONFIRMING A RELATIONSHIP SOON

grogumybeloved: BRO BRO BRO WHAT @.dilfpascal have you SEEN THIS

→ dilfpascal replied: ❌👄❌ wdm

ynweekly: SO YOURE TELLING ME MY PREDICTIONS WERE ALL WRONG?

→ oscarpascal replied: LITERALLY ME THIS IS SUCH A PLOT TWIST

hollywoodscoop: Y/N Y/L/N & Pedro Pascal spotted with friends in New Yourk.

→ smexywolf replied: THAT COULD LITERALLY BE AND MY GRAMMA THATS SO PIXELATED

→ starwitch replied: YO WAHT

→ javijavipedro replied: GUYS DW I WENT TO NEW YORK AND DIDNT SEE THIS 😌 it cant be real

→ ynftw replied: [VIOLENT SCREAMING] I THOUGHT SHE WAS DATING ANDREW GARFIELD MY SHIP WHAT ABOUT MY SHIP

→ → ynishotok replied: 😭😭😭 PLEASE SAME THOUGHTS

→ goetye replied: I HAVE EXAMS WHAT IS THIS

→ javimypapi replied: HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO COMPETE WITH FUCKING Y/N DAFAQ

→ → 1234choco replied: gg fr fr

Pedro Pascal & Y/N Y/L/N Confirm Relationship

Pascal has confirmed to Volume Magazine that he and actress Y/N Y/L/N have been in a "loving relationship" for a few months now.

pefropuppet: 🤪 loving 🤪 realtionship 🤪

→ javimypapi replied: 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 time to delete myself

It's Official! Pedro Pascal & Y/N Y/L/N are dating

And they're the cutest couple on this side of the planet.

wuit39pi: so glad i live on the otherside of the planet. that means this isn't real

c00lwhip: Y/N and I are still dating on the other side.

→ crayonpascal replied: me with pedro

ICYMI: Y/N Y/L/N dating Pedro Pascal

But I'm willing to bet you Pedro girlies did not miss a second of it.

djarinoppa: please this article is being so LOUD 😭

Radio 100 - Y/N Y/LN talks Pedro Pascal

"Let's talk about it," the young interviewer says, pursing her lips, pinching the air with her manicured nails.

I let out a breathy chuckle and nod, "let's."

"Pedro Pascal."

"Pedro Pascal," I repeat with a smile, continuing to nod.

"I want to know everything," she says, adjusting her headphones and her mic, "we at Radio 100, along with the rest of the world, want to know--" she turns to me, "--how did you bag the baddie?"

I break into laughter.

The host stresses, "the baddie."

"THE baddie," I repeat, "the baddie of our generation, Pedro Pascal," I chuckle and suck in a breath.

The interviewer chuckles with me and motions, "because goodness knows we're all going to be taking notes."

I sigh and think for a moment. I link my hands together and prop them on the table in front of me, "ya know, I was just real with him."

She nods, eager to know what else I had to say.

"I told him," I shrug, "I could bring him in hot or I could bring him in cold."

She breaks into a fit of laughs before I even finish the sentence. I laugh along with her, pleased with the reaction I garnered. She wheezes, "no but did you really?"

"Absolutely not," I snort, "that would have been great though, wouldn't? I'm pretty sure if I did do that, he would have cried."

We both cackle.

"Like," I chuckle, "don't know if it's a good cry or a bad cry but there would have been tears."

dukes_Ducks reposted itsYNduh's story [captioned] 😱😱😱😱

cheeseontoast reposted itsYNduh's story [captioned] THE PEDRO MEME???????????????????????????????????????????

anabreathing reposted itsYNduh's story [captioned] ARE WE GOING TO SEE THEM ON A MAGAZINE TOGETHER LORD HAVE MERCY

TESTmeTRY reposted itsYNduh's story [captioned] in front of my mother fucking salad 💀✋

pascalispunk reposted itsYNduh's story:

howlorgrowl reposted pascalispunk's story [captioned] did this mf really just say strongly worded letter 😂😂 fuck outta here

itsYNduh reposted pascalispunk's story [captioned] THANK YOU 😤😤

dindjarindaddy reposted pascalispunk's story [captioned] ????? WHAT IS THIS

thelastofh0e reposted pascalispunk's story [captioned] his boomer jumped out smh SCREAMING

pascaldailyupdates: Pedro and Y/N spotted together in a beach in Malibu.

→ MOONBABE replied: AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW *RUNS INTO A TRAINTRACK*

→ igotb00bs replied: 💔SO💔HAPPY💔FOR💔YOU💔

→ brrrrambo replied: shhhh you guys its too blurry to tell who it is

→ → dilfpascal replied: LMAOOO

→ → → ynishotok replied: we love denial 🤡

→ cornyluvaffir replied: OK BUT THE HANDS AND THE LEANING AND THE THING WITH THE

→ javimypapi replied: NO CUZ THE WAY MY DAD SAID HE SAW THE MANDO GUY ON THE BEACH AND I DIDNT BELIEVE HIM

→ → 404dead replied: ✋✋✋✋ aint no fucking way 💀

→ dingdongdont replied: *sips clorox cutely*

dadystate0mind: BABE WAKE UP NEW PEDRO Y/N PICS JUST DROPPED

→ dilfpascal replied: what if was my last straw

→ ynbaeluv replied: im so glad this is blurry so i can pretend i didnt see it

→ lmaotryagain replied: the pda is pdaing

→ honeyyn replied: no cuz he got her smiling like mad 😢

→ pedromiamor replied: 😭😭😭

→ ynthighsluv replied: alexa play that should be me

LOOK: Pedro Pascal and Y/N Y/L/N in New York

→ batmanis1 replied: LMAOOOOOO THEY REALLY SAID 4K ULTRA HD

→ → yuh1200 replied: FRRR IM SOBBING I CANT USE THE ITS TOO BLURRY EXCUSE ANYMORE

→ → → jennieluvu replied: JOKES ON YOU I DONT HAVE MY GLASSES ON

→ → → → isaacpascal replied: DW I BLURRED THE PIC FOR US [image attached]

→ propernadz replied: I'm mentally unwell because they look so good together and I cannot deny.

→ stuckyforlife replied: GOD I HAVE SEEN WHAT YOU DO FOR OTHERS

→ natasharomanovv replied: i just woke up

→ → nevergain replied: same 😭😭😭

bellaramsey reposted itsYNduh's story

508cutie reposted bellaramsey's story [captioned] HELP BELLA REPOSTED THIS I CANT

donttalkbetty reposted itsYNduh's story [captioned] SCREASMIFNF

pascalispunk reposted itsYNduh's story:

dilfpascals reposted pascalispunk's story [captioned] DEAD IN THE GRAVE NO ONE TOUCH ME

memeynok reposted pascalispunk's story [captioned] APOLOGY WITH TEARS

anderson_1 reposted pascalispunk's story [captioned] no but theyre so cute for this and i hate it

enterthesandman reposted pascalispunk's story [captioned] HES SHYYYYYY

ilovepascl reposted pascalispunk's story [captioned] WHAT IF THIS WAS MY LAST STRAW

itsYNduh reposted pascalispunk's story:

igotitithink reposted itsYNduh's story [captioned] GOD I SEE WHAT YOU HAVE DONE FOR OTHERS

ILOVEyn reposted itsYNduh's story [captioned] WHEN IS IT MY TURN