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barnesonly · 9 days ago

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── ⊹ ࣪ ˖ Lust ˖ ࣪ ⊹ ──

professor!bucky barnes x reader

summary: You’re a literature student. He’s your English professor — brilliant, composed, and entirely off-limits. But the more you write, the more he notices you. And what begins as admiration quietly unravels into something far more dangerous.

word count: 10,8k

WARNINGS: 18+ explicit content, MDNI. curse words, mutual desperation, age gap, dirty talk, praising kink, dry humping, PiV, breeding, unprotected sex.

Part 3 | Previous Part | Next Part

You didn’t remember falling asleep. The weight of the day had just… pulled you under. No dreams. Just heavy, exhausted stillness.

And then you heard it. A sharp clink. The soft creak of a window hinge. The smell of smoke.

You stirred, blinking into the dim blue-gray of your dorm room. It was late. The kind of late where the campus was silent and the world outside felt far away.

A small shape sat perched on the windowsill—bare legs, messy bun, oversized hoodie. Cigarette pinched between her fingers, glowing faintly in the dark.

Your roommate—Sarah.

She turned her head a little when she heard you shift, eyes flicking over her shoulder.

“Shit,” she whispered. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You pushed the blanket off slowly and sat up, rubbing your face.

“S’okay.”

You crossed the room barefoot, the floor cold beneath your soles, and slid down next to her on the wide sill. The breeze curled in gentle through the cracked glass—cool and quiet.

She held out the cigarette without a word.

You hesitated for a beat. Then took it.

You didn’t smoke. But tonight? You didn’t want to think. Or explain. Or pretend like everything was fine.

You brought it to your lips. The burn was harsh—your eyes watered slightly—but it steadied something in your chest. Anchored you.

Sarah let out a breath, watching the smoke trail disappear.

“That boy again?”

You didn’t answer right away. You stared out into the dark—the golden halo of the nearest streetlamp, the way the trees moved like shadows against the library wall.

Then you said, softly, “Yeah.”

Sarah tilted her head and looked at you, almost scanning your expression. She knew something was wrong. She always did.

There was something about the way you were between the lectures. Quiet and pink in the cheeks. Or the way you sat curled on your bed some nights, rereading something on your phone with your mouth pressed into a tight line.

Sarah flicked her ash into an old mug by the window.

“You look sad,” she said.

You let out a breath. Something too close to a laugh.

“I feel sad.”

She didn’t push. Didn’t offer advice. Just bumped her shoulder gently against yours.

“That bad?”

You stared down at the cigarette between your fingers. At the way your nails trembled just slightly.

“It’s just… complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” she said, smiling without teeth.

You didn’t answer. The silence between you filled the room, warm and human. A soft place to land.

Sarah leaned her head back against the frame, her hair a messy halo in the glow of the streetlamp.

“Well,” she said after a pause, exhaling a long breath of smoke, “whoever he is—he’s clearly got you fucked up.”

You let out a tiny laugh through your nose. It came out brittle.

Sarah turned to look at you, her gaze softer than usual. Not prying. Just… present.

“You want to talk about it?”

You hesitated. Shook your head.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” she shrugged. “But still. Sometimes it helps to say it out loud. Even if it’s just—‘he’s an asshole’ or ‘I’m in too deep’ or ‘I think I fucked up.’”

She glanced sideways. “Or all three.”

You smiled, faintly. The cigarette trembled slightly between your fingers.

“It’s not just about him,” you murmured. “It’s me, too. I let it happen. I keep letting it.”

Sarah tilted her head, flicking ash lazily into the mug.

“Letting something happen doesn’t mean it’s your fault. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

You blinked at her, surprised.

She shrugged again. “I mean… unless he’s married or forty-five or something…” She scrunched her brows. „Well, you did mention he’s older… in that case—I take it back.”

You choked on a laugh and quickly looked away, coughing. You shook your head, trying to play it off, but the look on her face said she wasn’t going to press. Just file it away and let it hang between you, unspoken.

After a few seconds, she nudged your knee with hers.

“Hey. You wanna go to that place tomorrow? The one with the waffles and the weird fake plants?”

You looked at her, startled. “The café by the bookstore?”

“Yeah,” she said, blowing out one last drag. “Weird vibes. Pretty lighting. Might be good for your moody writer spiral.”

You snorted, the weight in your chest easing slightly.

“Sure.”

“Cool.” She stubbed the cigarette out and yawned, stretching. “We’ll romanticize the hell out of our sad-girl bullshit.” She smiled then thought for a moment. „And maybe later we can go to some bar… Or a club. First round on me.”

You sighed and shook your head.

„Come on! It’s weekend. I’m not gonna let you sit here and cry through it. You need some fun.”

She stood, ruffling your hair as she passed.

“Night, lover girl.”

You rolled your eyes, but it stayed with you.

Lover girl.

You sat by the window a moment longer, the breeze brushing your skin, the faint throb of too many feelings caught in your throat.

———

The bar was too loud, too warm, too much—but it didn’t matter.

You were drunk.

Like, really drunk.

Sarah was still laughing at something a guy at the bar had said—some failed pickup line that barely registered in your brain. You’d been nursing your drink too long, straw limp and lipstick-smeared, ice half-melted, but your blood was buzzing and your cheeks were flushed and for once, you didn’t want to think about him.

But of course you did.

Because no matter how loud the music got, how sweet the alcohol tasted, how many jokes Sarah whispered in your ear—you still felt it. Him. His voice, his hands, his goddamn forehead kiss lingering like a brand on your skin.

You picked out your phone from the pocket. You unlocked it and stared at your texts.

His number.

That thread.

You knew you shouldn’t.

You really shouldn’t.

But your fingers were already typing.

You | 11:04PM

you’re an asshole, yk that?

Sent.

The moment it delivered, your stomach dropped.

Oh god.

No.

No no no no no.

You threw the phone face-down on the sticky tabletop and buried your face in your hands.

Sarah slid back into the booth beside you with a tray of fries, looking smug and slightly out of breath.

“Okay, he totally thinks I’m into him, but I did get us free fries, so that’s a win. What’s your deal over here, huh?”

You looked up, eyes wide and horrified. “I just texted him.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “The guy?��

You nodded, lips parted. “I called him an asshole.”

She cackled. “Is he?”

“…I don’t know.”

You did, though.

He wasn’t. Not really.

You just felt small and stupid and messy and… used.

And the worst part? You still wanted him.

Sarah reached over and stole your phone before you could stop her, squinting at the screen.

“Oh shit.”

You slapped your hand over your mouth.

“Okay, you’re panicking,” she said. “Which is normal. But you’re also drunk and hot, which means you’re allowed to say stupid shit.”

“I called him an asshole, Sarah—”

“You texted him,” she corrected. “That’s, like, one level above a drunk voicemail. You’re safe. Probably.”

You groaned and slumped down in the booth.

Your phone buzzed and you two froze.

„Is that him?” Sarah whispered.

You slowly—slowly—picked it up and flipped the phone over. Your heart beat so hard you could barely breathe. You stared at the screen.

One new message. From him. You tapped it open with shaking fingers.

James | 11:07PM

Are you safe?

That was it.

No questions, no scolding, no confusion—just that.

Are you safe.

Not What the hell?

Not Don’t text me like that.

Not even Are you insane?

Just… concern.

And god, that made it worse.

You bit your lip, throat tightening. The tears that had been sitting quietly behind your eyes all night started to rise.

Sarah peered over. “Well? What’d he say?”

You just turned the screen toward her.

Her face softened. “Damn.”

“I didn’t mean it,” you whispered. “I don’t think he’s—”

“You don’t have to explain it to me.”

“I think I’m just…” You swallowed hard. “I think I’m scared he only wants me for one thing. And I hate that I still want him anyway.”

Sarah nodded. No teasing this time. “Then tell him that. Or don’t. But either way—you’re not crazy.”

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

You didn’t want to lie.

You didn’t want to push him away.

But you also didn’t want to fall any deeper without knowing if there was something real underneath it all.

So finally, you typed:

You | 11:09PM

yeah. i’m safe. just drunk and stupid. i’m sorry.

Send.

You stared at it.

You didn’t expect him to reply. Not tonight, not really but thirty seconds later, your screen lit up again.

James | 11:09PM

You’re not stupid. And you don’t have to apologize to me.

Then another one.

James | 11:09PM

Text me when you’re home, alright?

Your chest ached.

And maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the lights. Maybe it was just the part of you that was hopelessly, stupidly his. But you smiled. Just a little and whispered to yourself, “Okay.”

———

You made it back to your dorm a little past 1 a.m.—still swaying slightly from the drinks, your coat wrapped too tightly around you, cheeks flushed from the night air and the alcohol and everything unsaid.

Sarah kicked her shoes off and collapsed face-first into her bed with a groan.

“Dead,” she mumbled.

You laughed softly. “You’re literally the one who made me do tequila shots.”

A muffled, traitorous noise from her pillow. “Peer pressure builds character.”

You didn’t answer. Just toed your boots off, peeled off your jeans, and climbed into your bed. The room was quiet now, dark, warm. The buzz of everything—noise, music, doubt—was finally fading.

You rolled over and reached for your phone. You stared at it for a second. Your heart fluttered. Just a little. Then you typed:

You | 1:11AM

i’m home.

You hesitated then added—

You | 1:11AM

still a little drunk. but safe. promise.

Send.

You tucked the phone against your chest and turned onto your side, watching the ceiling blur in the dark. You didn’t expect him to reply immediately.

But he did. Not even a full minute later.

James | 1:11AM

Thank you for letting me know.

Get some rest, sweetheart.

You read it again.

And again.

Your fingers hovered. Then slowly, quietly, you typed another message.

You | 1:12AM

goodnight, james.

Send.

You didn’t expect anything else after that but then, one last message blinked onto the screen:

James | 11:12AM

Goodnight, my girl.

Your heart stuttered. You set the phone down. Face buried into the pillow. A quiet, breathless kind of ache blooming in your chest.

His girl.

———

You woke slowly.

The kind of slow that came after a night of too much alcohol and too many feelings. Your mouth was dry. Your head was a little fuzzy. But the ache in your chest—the one that had been gnawing at you—was softer somehow. Not gone. Just quieter.

The sunlight filtered through the blinds, golden and gentle, casting long lines across the room.

Sarah was still out cold in her bed, snoring softly into her pillow, hair tangled around her face. You smiled faintly.

You turned over and reached for your phone, expecting the usual cluster of unread texts or maybe a blurry photo or two from the bar.

But there was just one message waiting for you.

From him. Sent sometime early this morning—maybe while you were still curled into yourself, still half-spinning in the dark.

James | 8:37AM

Morning. Are you okay?

You blinked down at the screen, lips parted slightly. The warmth in your chest spread, slow and sticky and sweet. He didn’t have to text. He could’ve chalked it all up to drunken nonsense, pretended nothing had happened.

But he didn’t.

He asked.

You stared at the message for a long moment. Then, fingers a little hesitant, you typed:

You | 11:33AM

yeah. just… had a weird night.

You hovered for a second, then added—

You | 1:33AM

thank you for checking in.

Your phone stayed in your hand. You didn’t expect a quick reply—it was the weekend—but you couldn’t help it.

You watched the screen anyway. Time time it didn’t feel pathetic. Just… honest. Just human.

After nearly ten minutes the phone buzzed in your hand, and your breath caught before you even looked.

James | 11:42AM

You’ve been off lately. I asked you ’bout it and you said you were okay, told me I didn’t do anything wrong. And now you’re sending me a message in the middle of the night calling me an asshole.

Then another buzz.

James | 11:42AM

I know you were drunk but I am worried, sweetheart.

There it was again.

That word.

Sweetheart.

It wasn’t angry. He still wasn’t scolding you. If anything, he sounded… tired. Maybe a little hurt. But mostly—he was just worried.

Your fingers hovered over your screen, unsure how to even begin to explain the ache that had been pulling at you lately. The doubt, the fear, the way you couldn’t stop wondering if it was all just sex to him.

But he was the one who reached out. Who noticed. And he called you sweetheart. Maybe… maybe he did care.

You ran a hand over your face.

Get yourself together.

You hesitated, then started typing with trembling thumbs.

You | 11:45AM

I’m sorry. It was just a stupid drunk thing. I didn’t mean it. I was just being dumb. Please don’t worry about it.

You stared at the message for a long moment before hitting send. The read receipt appeared almost immediately. Then came his reply.

James | 11:45AM

We’ll talk about it in person, okay?

Your stomach flipped.

Because you knew what that meant.

He wasn’t mad—at least, not in the way that scared you. But he wasn’t brushing it off either. He wanted to see you. Look you in the eyes. Have a real conversation.

And you didn’t even know what you were supposed to say to him. Part of you was angry, the other so deeply in love you weren’t even sure what you’re doing. What you should do.

But maybe he was right. Maybe it’d be the best to finally talk about it.

———

The monday lecture ended like all the others—pages rustling, backpacks zipping, quiet chatter fading as students filed out one by one. You stayed in your seat, pretending to gather your things slowly, pretending not to notice how he hadn’t even looked at you once during the entire hour.

But when the last student slipped out the door and it clicked shut behind them, you felt him approach.

“Can we talk?” James’s voice was low, careful. “About the message you sent me.”

You let out a quiet breath, still focused on stuffing your notebook into your bag. “It’s nothing. Really. I told you—it was just a stupid drunk thing.”

“I don’t believe that,” he said gently. “And you know I don’t.”

Your fingers stilled on your bag’s zipper.

He took a slow step closer.

“You’ve been off for days. And then that message… it wasn’t just drunk, was it?”

You swallowed hard. “I told you it doesn’t matter.”

“But it does.”

There was something too sincere in his voice, too calm. It made your chest tighten.

“I care about you. And I want to understand what’s really going on in that head of yours.”

That broke something loose.

You stood up too fast, your voice snapping before you could stop it. “Fine. You want to know what’s going on? I want you to give me good grades because you actually think I’m a good writer. Not because I sneak into your office hours so you can fuck me!”

The silence that followed cracked like ice. Your words hung between you—loud and raw and aching.

He stared at you, jaw clenched, something pained flashing behind his eyes.

“Sweetheart…” he started, stepping forward and reaching out his hand to touch you. “I’m sorry. I’ll make this up to you. I didn’t realize—”

But when he reached for you, you flinched. Took a step back. Shook your head.

“God,” you laughed bitterly. “Not everything can be fixed with fucking, James. Maybe in your head it can, but not in mine.”

He froze. His hands lowered slowly. And for the first time since this whole thing began, you watched him fall completely silent—no soft words, no charming excuses, no dominant control.

Just stood there with something breaking across his face—quietly, painfully. Like he’d been struck. His throat worked around silence for a second too long before he spoke—soft, almost uncertain.

“I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean to.”

His voice cracked just slightly at the end. You hated how it made something in your chest twist, how even now, with everything burning inside you, your heart still ached at the thought of hurting him.

But the ache wasn’t just his. It was yours.

Your shoulders trembled before you could stop it, and you turned your face away, one hand coming up like a shield—but it was too late. He saw.

The tears had started to fall.

You tried to wipe them quickly, tried to pretend they didn’t matter, but your voice gave you away.

“I just…” you swallowed hard, chest heaving, “I don’t want to be some fucking fantasy to you. Some toy you get to praise and fuck and keep in the shadows. I want to be seen, James. I want to matter. To you.”

His expression shifted—his whole face softening, brow creased like your pain had carved its way into him too.

“You do,” he said, so quiet it almost hurt to hear. “You do matter.”

You shook your head, another tear slipping down.

“I don’t know that. I don’t. Because everything gets so blurry when we’re alone, and then you act like nothing happened in public, and I’m just—” your breath hitched, “—I’m tired of wondering if I’m just a body you like to fuck or a girl you actually see.”

He took a tentative step closer, not reaching this time. Just… looking at you like you were something delicate he didn’t know how to hold anymore.

“I see you,” he said again, steadier this time. “And I’m sorry I ever made you question that.”

You said nothing, eyes downcast, breathing shallow as you tried to compose yourself.

And then—finally—he closed the space between you, slow, careful. He didn’t touch you until you looked up.

And when you did—just slightly, just enough—he opened his arms, wordless, waiting.

You stood there for a moment, trembling.

Then you let yourself fall into him.

And he held you tight, his chin resting against your temple, his hand gently cradling the back of your head as if he was trying to put all your pieces back together.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “You matter. You matter so much.”

James didn’t let go. Even after your tears had slowed, after your breath started to steady again—he just held you. His thumbs brushed your cheeks, gentle and grounding, and his forehead dipped to rest lightly against yours.

“I don’t want it to be like this either,” he murmured, his voice so close it barely needed to be spoken aloud. “You think I like hiding this? Pretending not to know you in front of a room full of people, pretending I don’t feel what I feel when you walk in?”

You closed your eyes at that. His words settled somewhere deep in your chest—soft, aching, true.

“But you know why we have to,” he continued, quieter now. “It’s not just my job. It’s you. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because of this. If someone found out and dragged you into it. I just…”

He paused. You felt his breath stutter, the way his hands held your face more tightly, like he needed to say it right.

“I just wanted to give you something real. Even if it’s only here. Like this.”

Your eyes opened to find him staring at you again—earnest, open, wounded by the very truth he was saying out loud.

“I care about you,” he whispered. “More than I should. More than I ever meant to.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes still burning, and you pressed your forehead against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I know. I know, I’m so sorry. I just… you gave me that extra grade and I thought…” You swallowed, voice cracking around the words. “I thought maybe you were just doing all this to—use me. Like it wasn’t about anything real, just… just sex and good grades and—god, I’m so stupid, I’m sorry.”

He pulled back just enough to make you look at him again, his hands still holding your face with that same unbearable tenderness.

“Hey,” he murmured, firm but quiet. “Don’t say that. You’re not stupid. Don’t ever say that.”

His thumbs brushed beneath your eyes, catching the tears you hadn’t meant to let fall again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes searching yours with a softness that broke you all over again. “You were doubting yourself as a writer and I… I don’t know. I thought I was helping. I thought it would push you, motivate you, show you I believed in you even if you didn’t.”

You blinked at him, lips parted, chest aching.

“But that was me being stupid,” he added, gently. “Not you. I should’ve seen it sooner. I should’ve asked. I didn’t mean to make you feel used, baby. I swear to god, I just wanted you to believe in yourself even half as much as I believe in you.”

The way he said it — quietly, with his eyes so open and honest — made you feel like you were unraveling in the safest possible way.

And you couldn’t help it: your hands found his again, clinging tight.

“I do care,” he whispered. “So much more than I’m supposed to. And I know we can’t say it, can’t show it—not how we want—but none of this is just physical for me. It never was.”

You nodded, tears slipping free again. This time from something else. Something softer.

“I know,” you whispered. “I know now.”

James exhaled softly and pulled you in again, arms wrapping around your back, holding you so close it felt like he was trying to shield you from the whole world.

You let yourself fall into it. Let yourself bury your face into the warm, familiar scent of his shirt. His heart beat steady under your ear, a quiet rhythm that calmed something deep inside you.

His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair as he pressed a kiss to your temple. Then your forehead. Soft. Reassuring. Reverent.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your skin. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

You sniffled, curling your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, holding on like you were afraid you might fall apart again if you didn’t.

James pulled back just slightly, just enough to look at you again — and when he did, his expression was all warmth, all honesty.

“I’ll do better,” he said, his voice low but certain. “For you. I promise.”

You blinked up at him, lips parting like you wanted to say something — but the words caught in your throat. So instead you just nodded, slowly, tearfully.

He smiled — that soft, rare kind of smile that barely reached the corners of his mouth but lived in his eyes instead. And then he leaned in, pressing one more kiss to your forehead like a vow.

“I’m not going to hurt you again,” he added. “Not if I can help it. No more mixed signals. No more making you doubt yourself. You deserve better than that. You deserve everything.”

And god — you believed him. Or maybe you just wanted to believe him. Either way, in that moment, his arms felt like the only place in the world you were supposed to be.

———

You got back to your dorm.

Sarah still hadn’t come back — probably out with her friends again — and for once, the silence didn’t feel heavy. You were curled up at your desk, legs tucked beneath you, laptop open and a textbook propped up beside it. A cup of tea sat cooling beside your hand. Your notes were more organized than they’d been in days. You felt—lighter. Not fixed, not whole, but… steadier.

Cared for.

The ache in your chest that had been there all week had started to dissolve, replaced by the warmth of James’s voice still echoing in your head. I’ve got you. I’ll do better. You deserve everything.

You were underlining a sentence in your book when your phone buzzed.

You glanced over, expecting a message from Sarah, maybe a group chat ping.

But it was him.

James | 5:58PM

Are you free tonight?

Your heart flipped in your chest. You stared at the screen. Blinking. Rereading the words, as if they might mean something different the second time around.

Free tonight?

You sat up straighter, teeth tugging at your lower lip. You didn’t expect it — not tonight. Not after everything you’d both just laid bare. But the question sent a thrill through you, curling low and warm in your stomach.

You typed back quickly.

You | 5:59PM

Um. Yeah. I am.

The reply came almost immediately.

James | 5:59PM

Come over. I want to see you.

[address attached]

You stared at the screen.

Your pulse kicked up. You could feel it behind your ribs, in your throat. Your fingers tightened around the phone.

Holy. Shit.

You’d never been to his place before. Office hours, dim-lit corners of the lecture hall after everyone left — those were the places you existed together. But this? His space? It felt so much more personal. So much more real.

You bit back a smile. Cheeks warm. Stomach fluttering. Then you stood up. Closed your laptop. You didn’t even bother finishing your homework.

You stood there for a moment, still holding your phone like it might vanish out of your hands. His address glowed back at you. You reread the messages three more times—just to be sure.

But still, your fingers hesitated before you typed.

You | 6:00PM

Are you sure?

You chewed on your thumbnail, heart thudding. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him—you did, desperately. But it felt like crossing into a new space. A new layer of this… whatever it was between you.

Your phone buzzed again.

James | 6:01PM

Yeah, I’m sure, sweetheart. Just make sure no one sees you, okay?

Sweetheart.

The word hit like a slow, dizzying warmth behind your ribs. You blinked at it, then slowly sat back down on the edge of your bed, biting back a breathless little smile.

You read his message again.

He wanted you there. He wanted you. Not just in some tucked-away corner of the university—but in his home. In a place that was his.

Your face flushed, a little dazed, a little giddy.

You scrambled up and padded barefoot to your wardrobe, suddenly seeing every piece of clothing with fresh, critical eyes. What would he like? What would make him look at you the way he sometimes did when no one else was around? That dark, intense gaze that burned through you and made you forget your own name?

You rifled through shirts and sweaters and skirts, pulling one out only to toss it back with a shake of your head.

Too casual.

Too obvious.

Too boring.

Too much.

You paused at a soft little dress you hadn’t worn in a while — black, just fitted enough to hug you right, the neckline subtly flattering without trying too hard. You held it up against yourself in the mirror, your heart hammering faster as you imagined his hands sliding beneath the hem.

You pressed your lips together, unable to stop smiling now.

You wanted to look pretty for him.

You wanted to make him want you the way you were already aching for him.

So you changed. You brushed your hair. You put on the softest perfume you owned — just a little, behind your ears. And when you finally stood by the mirror again, clutching your phone in your hand and staring at your reflection, you whispered to yourself:

“Okay. Let’s go.”

And then you slipped out into the night—heart pounding, cheeks warm, heading toward the man who had slowly, quietly, completely undone you.

———

You stood in front of the building, your heart thudding louder with every passing second. The address he gave you had led to a quiet street just outside the bustle of downtown—elegant, expensive. The kind of place with sleek glass windows and gold-lit balconies, the kind of place professors with tenure and old money lived.

You looked up once more before walking in. Marble-tiled lobby. Polished elevator. It all felt surreal.

You reached his floor, smoothed your hands down the front of your dress again, adjusted the neckline just slightly, and took a deep breath before lifting your hand to knock.

There was a pause.

Then soft, steady footsteps before he opened the door.

James stood there in a black button-down, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The first two buttons were undone, just enough to reveal the curve of his throat, the faintest hint of chest. His hair was slightly tousled like he’d run his hands through it one too many times, and the moment his eyes landed on you—

His lips parted, ever so slightly.

He took a breath in, gaze roaming—slow and reverent—from the hem of your dress to the way your hair framed your face. He didn’t speak at first, just looked at you like he was memorizing something. Like maybe he’d been waiting for this.

“You look…” he murmured, voice rough around the edges. “Beautiful.”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks.

“Come in,” he added more softly, stepping aside to let you through.

His apartment was exactly what you’d imagined—and not at all. Minimalist but warm. The floors were dark wood, the walls a rich charcoal gray softened by warm lighting. There were books stacked neatly on shelves and records beside a sleek old turntable. A soft jazz instrumental played low in the background.

And from the open doorway of the kitchen, you caught the mouthwatering scent of garlic, herbs, something simmering slowly.

You blinked.

“Are you… cooking?”

He gave you a little smirk but there was something bashful under it, too. He nodded toward the kitchen.

“I said I’d do better, didn’t I?” he said, his voice gentler now, stripped of all that classroom command. “So I made dinner.”

You stared at him, a little stunned.

He ran a hand down the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “Figured you deserve a real date. For once.”

Your heart melted.

Actually melted.

The room felt warmer. The world a little softer. And you—still standing near the door in your prettiest dress, still trying to make sense of how this man could make you feel both wrecked and cherished all at once—could only whisper:

“You really didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” he said simply. “You deserve it.”

And with that, he leaned in just a little, not kissing you yet—but close enough to make your breath catch.

“Dinner first,” he murmured with a crooked smile. “Then… whatever you want.”

He guided you toward the kitchen with a hand lightly grazing your lower back—barely there, but grounding. The dining area was just off to the side, lit by the soft glow of a hanging pendant lamp. A small round table had been set for two. Real plates, real silverware, cloth napkins. A bottle of wine already uncorked. Two glasses waiting.

It felt intimate. Intentional.

James moved to the stove, lifting a pan with practiced ease. “It’s nothing fancy,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Just pasta. I didn’t want to risk anything too… ambitious.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “You made me dinner. I think that’s already ambitious.”

He gave you that half-smile again—like you always managed to catch him off guard in the best way—and plated the food before joining you at the table. He poured the wine, then sat across from you, forearms braced on the edge of the wood as he looked at you fully.

For a moment, you both just ate. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was comfortable, full of quiet glances and the soft clink of silverware. The food was… actually really good. Rich, garlicky, a little spicy. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until now.

“So,” he said eventually, voice soft. “How are you feeling?”

You glanced up. The way he asked—it wasn’t casual, not filler. He really wanted to know.

You hesitated, then said quietly, “Better. Today was hard, but… this helps.”

He nodded slowly. “I meant what I said earlier. I never want to make you feel like you’re just—” He stopped, jaw tensing like the words made him angry at himself. “You matter to me. Not just the work, not just the sex. You. All of it.”

You felt your throat tighten a little. You reached for your wine to cover the flicker of emotion.

“Thanks for… tonight,” you said after a beat. “This is the first time in a while I’ve felt like… I don’t know. A person.”

James’s expression softened instantly. He reached out across the table, hand brushing gently over yours.

“You are a person,” he said. “A brilliant, stubborn, maddeningly talented person who I can’t stop thinking about.”

You bit your lip, trying not to smile too obviously.

“And I’m trying,” he added. “To make this… right. Even if we can’t be open. Even if we have to hide. I want you to feel safe. Wanted.”

“I do,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “Especially now.”

He smiled, quiet and real. “Good.”

You both fell into another easy stretch of conversation—talking about books you loved, a movie you wanted to see, how he once accidentally called another professor a dick during his first year teaching and never lived it down.

And for the first time in weeks, you laughed.

Like really laughed.

And when dinner ended and the plates were pushed aside and the wine was low in the glass, he stood slowly and held out his hand.

“Come here,” he murmured.

You took it and let him pull you into his arms.

He wrapped his arms around you fully, tucking you against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. His chin rested on the top of your head for a moment, and you could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing—calm, even, like holding you had settled something deep inside him.

Then he pulled back just enough to press the softest kiss to your temple.

Another to your cheek.

Then a slower one to the corner of your mouth.

You blinked up at him, already warm in his arms, but melting even more when he smiled against your skin and murmured, “Whatchu wanna do now, baby?”

You bit back a shy grin, cheeks warming. “I don’t know,” you said, voice small.

He kissed you again, teasing now—right on the nose. “Movie? Cuddling? Both?” His hand slid up your back slowly, fingers threading gently into your hair. “Or… you just wanna let me hold you all night?”

You couldn’t help it—you nodded, pressing closer. “All of the above,” you mumbled into his shirt. “Just wanna be close to you.”

He chuckled softly, something so loving in the sound. “God, you’re cute.”

You pulled back slightly to pout. “Don’t call me cute.”

He tilted his head, eyes twinkling. “Beautiful, then. Gorgeous. Perfect.”

Your heart fluttered so violently you thought he might feel it.

“Okay,” he said, kissing your forehead one more time. “Movie it is. But I’m warning you—I have truly awful taste in rom-coms.”

He guided you gently to the couch, his hand never leaving yours. As you sat down and curled up beside him, his arm draped around your shoulders and pulled you close like you belonged there. Like you always had.

And the moment he hit play and the screen lit up in front of you, you weren’t even watching. You were too focused on the way he looked at you from the corner of his eye.

Like you were everything.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes. And God, he was so beautiful like this—his expression soft and adoring, like he couldn’t believe you were here in his arms.

And maybe it was the wine still buzzing in your veins, or the way he’d made dinner, or how he looked at you like you were more than just someone he touched—but you couldn’t help it.

You smiled, cheeks warm. “Fuck the movie.”

Before he could respond, you swung a leg over him, straddling his lap, your dress riding up your thighs. He blinked, surprised—but that familiar glint sparked in his eyes instantly, and his hands slid to your waist as you leaned in and kissed him.

It started slow. Tender. His lips moving against yours with a patience that made you ache. One hand cupped your cheek, the other gripped your hip like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to hold you in place or pull you closer.

But then your tongue brushed his, and his breath hitched—and the shift was instant.

He deepened the kiss with a groan, both hands sliding up under your dress, fingertips warm against your skin. You rocked against him, and he cursed low into your mouth.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, pulling back just long enough to look at you. His pupils were blown wide, his hair slightly mussed from your fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

His lips found your neck, your collarbone, the space just under your ear that made your breath catch. And you let yourself melt into him, already dizzy from how much you wanted more.

Because here—wrapped in his arms, straddling his lap in his stupidly nice apartment—you didn’t feel like a secret. You felt like something he cherished.

Your lips parted with a soft gasp as you felt him, hard beneath you, straining against his slacks.

And God, you moved against him again—slowly, deliberately—and that drew a groan straight from his throat. His hands gripped your hips tighter, like he was trying not to lose control too fast, but you could feel the way his restraint was slipping.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed against your mouth, kissing you again—hotter this time, deeper, his tongue claiming yours. “What’re you trying to do to me?”

You didn’t answer—just kept rolling your hips against him, feeling the thick press of him beneath you. And then you whimpered when his teeth grazed your bottom lip, and your fingers tugged at the collar of his shirt, trying to pull him closer even though you were already flush against him.

He kissed you like he owned your mouth—slow, hungry, possessive. Like he’d been starving for you. Like the very taste of you could undo him.

And then—without warning—his hands slid under your thighs, lifting you up with ease.

You gasped, arms flying around his neck instinctively, but he just smirked, eyes dark and hooded. “You think I’m gonna fuck you on my couch?” he murmured, walking you down the hallway with you clinging to him, legs wrapped around his waist.

“Not tonight, sweetheart.”

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest as he nudged open the door to his bedroom. It was warm and low-lit, his scent already filling the space—clean linen and something woodsy and masculine.

He walked you straight to the bed and laid you down gently, as if you were something precious, something breakable. And then he hovered above you, eyes scanning your face like he needed to memorize every detail.

“I need you,” he whispered. “Need all of you.”

And when he kissed you again—God, it wasn’t just lust. It was everything.

His hands slid down your sides as he helped ease your dress from your shoulders, inch by inch. James looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured—more to himself than to you—and leaned in to press a reverent kiss to your collarbone. Then your shoulder. Then lower, along the curve of your chest.

His mouth worshipped every inch it touched, trailing slow, soft kisses over your skin. He lingered at your breasts, his tongue flicking, teasing, until your back arched off the mattress. His stubble grazed your skin as he sucked gently, then moved lower—your ribs, your stomach—his mouth worshiping every inch of you.

You buried your fingers in his hair, gasping when he grazed his lips over your stomach, each press a quiet confession. He didn’t rush. He took his time—as if he was memorizing you.

Then, you tugged gently at his shirt, needing him closer, needing more. He let you pull it over his head, and you finally saw him—his chest, lean and strong, all sculpted muscle and tension and heat.

Your breath caught. God, he was beautiful. All of him.

He smirked softly at the way you stared, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. And then you were helping him out of the rest of his clothes—slow, shy, but eager. Each movement filled with that quiet urgency you both tried to keep buried.

He watched you the whole time, letting you look, letting you touch. And when your hands dipped lower to help him out of his pants, then his boxers, your breath hitched.

Then he moved again—settling between your thighs. Gently, he shifted, guiding you until he rolled, and suddenly, you were straddling him. Your knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his hips. His hands rested on your thighs, warm and grounding.

You blinked, surprised, a little unsure.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice low and husky.

You nodded, still catching your breath. Still processing.

His thumbs stroked soft circles into your skin. “I want you like this,” he said. “I want to watch you. But more than that… I want you to show me.”

Your brows knitted. “Show you?”

He leaned up, just enough for your lips to brush. His voice barely a whisper against your mouth.

“Show me how you like it, sweetheart.”

Your breath shuddered as you looked down at him—chest rising and falling beneath you, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded with want. His hands stayed on your thighs, thumbs rubbing slow, teasing circles as if he were giving you time—but you didn’t want time. You wanted him.

So you moved. Carefully at first. Your hips shifted forward, dragging your slick folds against the thick length of him where he was already hard and waiting beneath you. You both exhaled at the same time—his jaw tightening, your body already aching from just the friction.

“Just like that,” he muttered, voice rough now, filthy and full of heat. “Fuck, sweetheart… don’t stop.”

You ground against him again, slower this time, letting the drag of him through your folds send sparks down your spine. Every brush of your clit against him made you clench around nothing, made your fingers press into the solid planes of his chest for balance.

His head tipped back. You watched the way his throat moved when he swallowed hard. “You feel what you do to me?” he gritted out, hands gripping tighter at your hips now, guiding you without forcing.

You nodded, biting your lip as you moved again—slick and desperate and needy.

He groaned, low and guttural. “You gonna ride me, baby? Huh? Gonna show me how you fuckin’ take it?”

Your body burned at the words. You reached down, hand wrapping around him, guiding him to your entrance—he was thick and hot and pulsing in your palm. You lined him up and sank down slowly, inch by inch, until the stretch had you gasping and clenching around him. James cursed under his breath, head slamming back against the pillow.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed. “You’re so tight—so wet. You’re killin’ me.”

You braced your hands on his chest and rolled your hips once—slow, steady, taking him deep. He groaned again, one hand flying to your ass to squeeze, to pull you harder against him.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Just like that, sweetheart. Ride me. Take what you need.”

And you did.

You found your rhythm—rocking against him, rising and falling in time with his ragged breaths. His hands roamed now, gripping your waist, your ass, sliding up to your breasts, fingers tugging at your nipples as you moaned for him. The sound of skin slapping, the wet drag of your bodies, the way he kept whispering filthy things between gritted teeth—it was overwhelming in the best way.

“You like that?” he panted. “Like being on top of me like this, lettin’ me watch your pretty face while I ruin you?”

You whimpered, nails digging into his skin. “Yes—yes, James—”

“Fuck, that’s it,” he snarled, sitting up suddenly, arm wrapped tight around your back as he thrust up into you now, hard and deep and perfect. “Gonna come for me like this? On my cock, sweetheart?”

Your moans broke into something shameless and high-pitched as the pleasure built—tight and fast, deep in your belly.

“I—James, fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Then do it,” he growled against your mouth. “Come for me. Let me feel how sweet that pussy gets when I fuckin’ break you.”

You shattered.

The orgasm ripped through you, violent and electric, and you cried out as your body clamped down around him. James’ grip tightened, and with a broken curse, he followed—thrusting once, twice more before spilling into you with a groan that sounded like your name.

You were shaking. He held you through it.

And when your breathing finally slowed, his hands went gentle again—stroking your back, kissing your shoulder, letting you come down.

“Fuck,” he murmured, voice hoarse and full of something raw. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me, baby…”

You were still trembling, limbs boneless and chest heaving, the aftershocks of everything you just shared washing over you like warm waves. He hadn’t moved much—still nestled deep inside you, the feeling of him gentle but grounding, his breath uneven against your shoulder.

His hand brushed through your hair, gently combing through it, smoothing it, slow and soothing, fingers tracing along your scalp like he couldn’t stop touching you. You buried your face in his neck, skin flushed, body burning, and he just held you like that—quiet and close, like you were something fragile. Precious.

He leaned in, pressing a slow, lazy kiss there. Then another. And another—each one softer than the last, like he couldn’t stop.

You felt the pad of his thumb stroke behind your ear, and your eyes fluttered closed at the tenderness of it all. His hand was on your back now, cool and comforting, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

“James…” you whispered, voice barely there.

He hummed softly, stroking your hair again, then gently leaned back just enough to look at you. His hand slid to your cheek, thumb brushing your jaw as he studied you—like he wanted to remember every inch of your face.

He pulled out from you, making you gasp and moan quietly. Then—he rolled you over, slow and careful, his body pressing you down into the sheets again as he came to rest above you. Still so close it made your heart ache.

And that’s when he said it.

“I love you.”

So quiet. So certain. No hesitation in his voice, no teasing in his tone. Just the words, raw and real, like they’d been burning on his tongue for weeks and finally broke free.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Your heart felt like it had stopped and then exploded all at once. You stared at him—into those stormy blue eyes that looked at you like you were more than just a student, more than just a body—and it hit you like lightning.

He meant it.

You blinked, tears already stinging your lashes, and then you reached up and pulled him down, kissing him like your life depended on it. Like the world would end if you didn’t. It wasn’t needy or rushed—it was full, and slow, and sacred. A promise sealed in the way your mouths moved, the way you both broke a little more open.

“I love you too,” you whispered into his lips, breathless. “So much.”

And for the first time, you felt like maybe you weren’t just his secret. You were his. All of you. Completely.

You lay there with him, your bodies still warm from everything you’d shared, the room quiet except for the low hum of city sounds outside his window. The dim light painted soft shadows across his face, and his fingers traced lazy circles along your bare back.

But something sat heavy in your chest. A knot of fear you couldn’t quite swallow down.

“Can I ask you something?” you murmured, not lifting your head from where it rested against his collarbone.

He stilled, then nodded. “Anything.”

You hesitated. “Have you… ever done this before?”

James went quiet.

You felt the shift in his body before he answered, the way his arms gently tightened around you like he could feel the question pulling you away from him.

“Done what?” he asked, voice low. Careful.

You closed your eyes. “Had something like this with a student.”

There was a beat of silence so thick it felt like you could drown in it.

“I just…” You took a shaky breath. “I need to know, James…”

He exhaled, and then shifted, rolling onto his side so he could see you properly. His hand came up to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw as his eyes locked with yours.

“No,” he said, firm. “No, baby. I haven’t. I would never do that.”

You didn’t answer right away, but your eyes shimmered in the low light.

“I don’t even let myself look at students that way,” he continued, softer now. “I built this wall so high between who I am and what I teach—because it matters. That line matters.”

You swallowed. “But you crossed it.”

“I did.” He nodded, not flinching from the truth. “Because you… you broke everything in me.”

Your breath caught.

“I read what you wrote and I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said. “Then you’d sit in my lectures and ask the kinds of questions no one else ever asked. Your writing felt like you were talking only to me. You smiled at me like you saw me. And I—fuck, I tried. I tried to be good. But I couldn’t stay away.”

You blinked, tears slipping down the corners of your eyes.

“It wasn’t the sex,” he added. “Not even close. I fell for you the first time you talked in class. I tried to stop it. To push it away but I’ve been falling ever since.”

You nodded slowly, and when he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead, you let him.

He tucked your body closer to his, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’re not just one of anything,” he whispered. “You’re the one.”

Your gaze softened. The breath you let out was shaky, caught somewhere between awe and ache. You melted into his arms, tucked your face against his neck and let him hold you like something precious.

But the warmth didn’t quiet the fear completely.

“What… what happens now?” you murmured, voice small against his skin.

He was quiet for a moment, and you lifted your head just enough to look at him.

“I mean it, James. I love you. I want this. But we can’t just… have it. If someone finds out—”

“I know,” he said quietly, cutting you off. “I know it’s dangerous.”

You swallowed hard. “So what do we do? Keep meeting in secret? Pretending like none of this exists once I’m back in the lecture hall?”

He exhaled, his fingers brushing over your lower back. “We’ll be careful. Smarter about it. No unnecessary risks. Office hours, quiet corners, places where no one’s paying attention—we’ll figure it out.”

You nodded, the knot in your chest loosening just slightly.

His hand came up, cupping your jaw gently as he looked at you, steady and sincere. “I’ll protect you. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Or take this away.”

His thumb brushed along your cheekbone, the curve of his mouth gentle when he looked at you.

“You should stay,” James said, barely above a whisper. “For the night.”

Your heart fluttered.

You blinked, surprised for a second—even though part of you had been hoping, praying, that he’d ask. Still, the words caught in your throat. “Are you sure?”

He nodded, instantly. “Of course I’m sure.”

And then his arms wrapped around you tighter, pulling you closer to his chest, and god—you could’ve cried again. Not from hurt this time, but from the way he held you like you were his entire world. Like this—you—meant everything.

You nuzzled into his chest with a small laugh, muffled against his skin. “You’re gonna regret it when I might make you skip your lecture tomorrow.”

You felt the rumble of his chuckle in his chest, low and warm.

“Don’t do this to me,” he groaned, tipping his head back with a smile. “You know I have to go to work.”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, smug and sleepy as you curled closer. “But I also know you’d let me distract you.”

He sighed dramatically, but you could hear the fondness thick in his voice. “You’re a brat.”

“And yet,” you murmured, lips brushing his collarbone, “you asked me to stay.”

His hands slid up your back, holding you like he’d never let go. “I’d ask you again a thousand times. I just want you here.”

———

Morning light filtered softly through the curtains, pale and gold across the sheets. The room was quiet, save for the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing beside you.

You were already awake.

Had been for a while, lying still with your cheek pressed to his bare chest, listening to the way his heartbeat thrummed steady beneath your ear.

But now—now the clock on his nightstand blinked a little too urgently, and you knew you had to move.

You slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him just yet. You gathered your dress from the floor, smoothed it out as best you could, then padded silently toward the bathroom.

Your reflection in the mirror made you pause.

Your hair was sleep-mussed, your skin still warm from his touch. The fading flush across your collarbone told its own story. A little dazed, a little wrecked. But glowing.

You felt… whole.

You washed up, combed through your hair with your fingers, did your best to look halfway presentable. You’d have to swing by your dorm to change—your own lecture started soon, and James had his usual morning class.

You turned the light off gently and stepped back into the bedroom.

He was still there—curled under the covers, face half-buried in the pillow, hair mussed and boyish. It made your chest ache. So soft. So utterly unguarded.

You sat on the edge of the bed and reached out, brushing your fingers lightly through his hair. Then down along his shoulder. “James,” you whispered.

Nothing.

You leaned in a little closer, letting your lips graze his temple. “James, baby. Wake up.”

He stirred, grumbling something unintelligible before an arm curled around your waist and pulled you back down with a groggy strength.

“Mm—no,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with sleep. “Don’t wanna.”

You laughed softly, trying not to melt completely. “I have a class. So do you.”

“Don’t care.” His hand slid up your side, palm warm and familiar. “Just five more minutes.”

“James—”

He cracked one eye open, finally meeting your gaze with a lazy, crooked smile. “You’re evil.”

“I know,” you teased, brushing your nose against his. “Now come on, professor. Time to be responsible.”

He sighed dramatically and let you go—reluctantly.

But before you could fully pull away, he caught your wrist, tugging you down for one more kiss. Slow. Sleep-warm. Full of the kind of softness that stayed with you all day.

“Text me when you’re back, yeah?” he said, eyes still barely open.

“I will.”

He watched you gather your things with that same quiet fondness, head propped on his hand. Like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. And when you left—soft click of the door behind you—you carried his gaze with you all the way home.

———

You slipped quietly into your dorm, letting the door click shut behind you with a soft snick. The hall was still quiet, most people probably just waking up or dragging themselves to early lectures.

You texted James you’re back and let out a slow breath.

God.

You still felt him on your skin. Still tasted him on your lips. Still smelled him on your clothes. Every step felt a little too floaty. Like your feet hadn’t quite touched the ground since last night.

You kicked your shoes off near the door, setting your bag down as you glanced toward your roommate.

Sarah was awake.

Sitting up in bed, legs tucked under her, hoodie pushed halfway up her arms and a mug cradled in her hands. Steam curled lazily toward the ceiling, the scent of cheap dorm coffee drifting through the room.

She blinked once. Sipped.

“Well, well, well,” she said, voice thick with amusement. “Look who finally decided to show.”

You froze mid-step. “Shut up.”

Sarah just grinned wider. “No you shut up. You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“That ‘I didn’t sleep in my own bed and I’m definitely not sorry about it’ look.” She set her mug down on the windowsill and leaned forward, squinting at you like a detective. “And is that… is that a love bite? Oh my god.”

You immediately lifted your hand to your neck, face heating. “There’s no love bite.”

“There is,” she said, delighted. “Don’t bother. You’re glowing. And you look freshly ravished. That’s not your walk-of-shame face—that’s your strut-of-shame face.”

You huffed, trying not to laugh as you grabbed a clean outfit from your drawers. “I hate you.”

Sarah flopped back onto her pillow with a smug smile. “No you don’t. You love me because I know when you’re getting laid.”

You pulled your hoodie over your head to hide your grin. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you,” she said, pointing at you with both hands like a judge passing sentence, “are gonna tell me everything the second we both have time and coffee.”

You rolled your eyes as you slipped into the bathroom.

But god… you were still smiling.

And maybe she didn’t know the full story. Maybe she couldn’t. Not yet. But still—there was something about her caring like that, even in the smallest, most teasing way.

———

You walked into the lecture hall just a minute before class began, the low hum of conversation bouncing off the old walls and faded seats.

The moment your eyes found him at the front of the room, you couldn’t help it. The corners of your mouth lifted, soft and secret. He was organizing a few papers on his desk, posture composed, expression unreadable—but then he looked up and saw you.

His face softened instantly. Not much—barely there. Just the faintest twitch of a smile. A tiny gleam in his eyes. Like a secret passed between only the two of you.

Your chest fluttered.

God. You loved that. That moment. That knowing.

You slipped into your usual row, unzipping your bag—only to find someone already sitting beside you.

A guy. Same class, though you hadn’t really noticed him before. He gave you an easy smile as you sat down, a quiet hey, and you blinked in surprise, giving him a polite smile back.

It wasn’t a big deal.

Except—

From the front of the room, James’s smile vanished.

You didn’t see it at first—but you felt it. The subtle shift in the air. When you looked up again, his jaw was clenched. His eyes flicked once toward the guy next to you, then back to the attendance sheet in his hands—but he wasn’t really reading it anymore.

Oh oh.

You tried not to grin. Bit the inside of your cheek to hide it.

Professor Barnes cleared his throat, eyes sweeping the room again like nothing had happened. “Alright, let’s begin.”

But his tone was clipped now. Sharper. More precise. The lecture started—but his gaze kept slipping back to you. Or maybe not to you, exactly.

To the boy sitting next to you.

He didn’t say anything. Of course he didn’t. He was the picture of professionalism, all cool control and eloquence—but there was tension behind it now. Something simmering underneath.

And when the boy leaned a little closer to ask if he could borrow a pen, you were certain James’s hand tightened around the marker in his fist.

You passed the guy the pen wordlessly. Smiled, but barely.

And when you glanced back toward James again, your eyes met.

He didn’t smile this time.

You saw it in his eyes. The dark glint. The jaw set just a little too tight. The look that said:

Mine.

And it sent a thrill straight down your spine.

You were trying to focus.

Truly, you were.

But the boy beside you had other plans.

He leaned over halfway through James’s lecture—voice low, but just loud enough to stir the silence between notes. “I’m Theo, by the way.”

You blinked at him.

He had soft brown eyes, messy hair, and that easy kind of grin boys wore when they thought they were charming. He gestured casually toward your open notebook. “You always take such clean notes. Thought I should finally say hi before the semester ends.”

You smiled—tight, polite, uncomfortable. “Uh… thanks.”

He didn’t seem to notice your hesitation.

“Maybe we could, I don’t know… study together sometime?”

You were just about to respond—just about to come up with something diplomatic, something that wouldn’t sound like I literally have a secret relationship with the man currently lecturing us on narrative motifs—when James’s voice rang out, cool and sharp:

“No talking in class.”

It was so sudden, so pointed, you jumped slightly in your seat.

Theo straightened, blinking. “Sorry, Professor.”

James didn’t answer. Didn’t look at Theo.

His eyes were on you.

Just you.

And the weight of that stare was heavy—controlled, but burning. The same calm tone, the same composed posture, but his gaze?

It was lethal.

You shifted in your seat, pulse ticking a little faster.

“Back to it,” he said simply, turning back to the board. “We were discussing subtext and implication. The things characters say without saying them.”

The irony wasn’t lost on you.

Theo didn’t try to talk again.

And you?

You didn’t dare look up at James for the rest of the class. Not because you were scared but because if you did—you knew exactly what kind of look you’d find waiting.

The rest of the lecture blurred.

James spoke with that same calm cadence, his notes smooth and deliberate, but you could tell. Something had shifted.

Toward the end of class, he adjusted his glasses, clicked his pen, and said, “For next week—an analysis of implicit desire in The Lover. Two pages minimum. No extensions.”

The groan that rippled through the room was collective, but James didn’t flinch. He stood tall behind the podium, one hand braced on the wood, eyes scanning the class with clinical detachment.

Then: “Dismissed.”

Chairs scraped against the floor. Backpacks zipped. Theo gave you a smile as he stood, but you didn’t return it. Your stomach had twisted into something tight and cold.

You stayed seated.

Like always.

Pretending to shuffle your notes slowly. Pretending to organize your bag. Pretending that maybe, just maybe, he’d call you forward like he used to—some quiet remark, some soft look passed between rows of empty chairs.

But today?

He didn’t even look in your direction.

He gathered his own things with surgical precision, clicked his laptop shut, and turned toward the exit. No pause. No nod. No trace of the man who kissed you and held you like you were made of something sacred just hours ago.

You looked up—hope flickering like a dying match.

But he was already at the door.

And then he was gone.

The classroom felt suddenly bigger. Colder. You sat frozen in your chair, the last student left, blinking at the door like maybe he’d come back.

But he didn’t.

And you already knew… he was jealous.

Part 4 💋

tags (tysm for all the love and support, If you asked to be tagged and I didn’t tag you it means I couldn’t for some reason 💔): @iamthatonefangirl @hiraethmae @im-feeling-blue-today @beforemdnight @just4w3irdo @bloodmocha @lovinqbella @its-in-the-woods @muchwita @iyskgd @harrietandcats @shortandb1tchy @luv4kook @grovelingmen @buckybarneswife125 @xamapolax @glitterspark @azrielsgirll @mortallydistinguishedwolf @shaheea @simp4f1 @voidanima @buckytakethewheel @thatsbucknasty

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thesvnandthemooon · 24 days ago

Text

𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞

18+ MINORS DNI

or: niko’s a heartthrob and natasha’s jealous of her own son

part of the short n’ sweet universe

a/n: this is your reminder that if you have requested something, i will end up writing it; but it might take a while

this is basically pure smut. id apologize but i know you guys like it so 😭 enjoy

summary: based on this request; natasha doesn’t mind niko charming every person on campus, but she’d rather keep you to herself

warnings: contains smut (penetration/p in v, brief handjob, oral/nat receiving), orgasm denial (i think?), slight exhibitionism, unprotected sex

word count: 11.2k

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Natasha can handle not being the campus heartthrob anymore. She understands why — being covered in spit-up and pushing around a Bugaboo stroller on a weekly to daily basis isn't attractive to many people. That's more than fine, as she's not interested in being approached anymore. She has other things to focus on now.

Does she still enjoy occasionally being flirted with? Yes. She's only human. But it's not something she needs anymore, and it's certainly not something that happens often anymore.

Instead, the attention has shifted to someone else: Niko. Someone much smaller, who shares her features. Girls coo over his cheeks, professors offer to hold him during tests (which Natasha isn't a fan of). Even with crumbs smeared around his mouth and his baby curls a mess, he's able to make everyone on campus fall in love with him.

He's the charmer now. He inherited that from her, just like the reddish hair and lazy smirk he's got down to a baby science. A duck onesie never managed to stop him.

The lecture hall is cramped and silent by the time Natasha arrives. The professor, standing on the podium and discussing the importance of eco-friendly stadiums, doesn't even flinch. He's used to her being late, and truthfully, he doesn't mind.

Natasha, however, does mind. She's sweaty and exhausted from a sleepless night, but the baby strapped to her chest couldn't be more alert. Eyes wide open and one sock missing, he cranes his head to get a good look at everyone in the room. When a girl waves at him, he lets out a shriek that makes the entire room glance at him.

"Shush", she mumbles, rubbing his back. She sits down in her usual spot — all the way in the back on the very left — and starts unpacking. Her laptop, thermos, a teething ring, some tissues. Niko arches his back in an attempt to escape from the baby carrier. "Okay, no. We don't do that."

The girl that waved at him turns around. She tries to soothe him with a smile, and unfortunately, it seems to work. His mouth drops open and he lets out a cheery gurgle. But all Natasha does is wrap an arm around him and turn slightly to shield him.

"Alright", the professor says loudly, skipping to the next slide, "we've all welcomed our honorary student. Let's keep going, shall we? Please get into pairs of three or four and discuss this next question. You have 15 minutes."

Natasha groans quietly. Sitting in class is difficult enough when you have a hyperactive baby in tow. Working in teams only makes that worse. No matter what, they never get anything done as long as Niko is somewhat awake.

It's not different this time. The second she's joined by three other students, he's giggling and reaching out like he's getting paid to get away from her. She'd be offended, but it gives her the chance to actually think about the question for a moment.

She's in the middle of scribbling down some answers when the guy next to her leans in a bit. His hand comes closer, fingers almost touching Niko's, and her own hand darts up to grab his wrist.

"One rule", she says, not looking up from her laptop. "Don't touch the baby."

Fortunately, the guy lets it go. He leans back in his seat, arms crossed and the hood of his hoodie pulled over his eyes, and doesn't move a muscle until the professor tells them to stop and present their results. Natasha wants to slide under the foldable little table and hide, but the professor hears Niko screech. He nods encouragingly.

"Romanoff", he says. Thanks to the baby, she has the honor of being known by name. "What about you? What'd you guys come up with?"

An hour later, class is over. Natasha has no idea how she survived presenting her results in front of the entire class, but she did it. She's even sweatier now, thanks to Niko imitating a pterodactyl whenever someone tried to talk. Her head is pounding, her shirt is stained with more spit-up and coffee, and the only thing she's looking forward to is seeing you. Not to get rid of the baby, no — she just needs a kiss and attention from someone who isn't drooling constantly.

She spots you outside, by your car. You're in a short dress, reapplying lipstick and looking too good for a normal Thursday afternoon. Her footsteps speed up, so much so that Niko grunts in quiet protest. But she ignores him.

"Hey", she calls, making your head turn. You light up when you see them. "Wow, you're gorgeous. Any chance I could get your number?"

"Smooth", you say and push off the car. The engagement ring on your finger glistens in the sun. "How was class? Was he good?"

Natasha cracks a smile as you meet her halfway. Her cheeks are warm and pink, her eyes green and full of relief. It's unfortunate she can't just put Niko aside for a minute to get a moment alone with you.

"He was", she lies. She wouldn't call his little show 'being good', but she can't blame him. She isn't too fond of class, either. "Thanks for waiting, I-"

Before she can say anything else, Niko lets out a whine and starts squirming in her arms. In an instant, your attention shifts — you're no longer looking at her, no longer asking about her day. Instead, you're cooing and scooping the baby out of her arms. Natasha's used to this, of course. All it takes is a clumsy smile or a well timed huff and people are fussing over the baby.

She's used to it. She doesn't mind. What does bother her, though, is that you're no better.

"Poor baby", you mumble, bouncing him and rubbing his back. He lets out a pitiful noise, and Natasha narrows her eyes. Faker, she thinks. "Oh, you're hungry? Babe, did you not bring his bottle?"

"Of course I did", she protests. You're already unlocking the car and buckling Niko up in the back. Bent over a little, dress hiking up and exposing more of your thighs. She feels a familiar coil form in her stomach. "He drained the entire thing."

When you turn around again, she's already in the driver's seat. There's fussing coming from the back, which tells her she won't be getting some relief anytime soon. You'll probably get home and spend the entire afternoon coddling the baby.

She shouldn't complain about that. She loves Niko more than anything. But it's been weeks, and she's too horny to think straight. It's a miracle she isn't dragging you into the bushes behind the parking lot. They're not too uncomfortable — you both know that from experience.

You slide into the passenger seat, looking as sinful as ever. Your perfume fills the small space, your lipstick is flawless. Natasha subtly shifts in her seat to conceal her problem and then starts the car.

"Is he tired?", she asks. "He seems tired. He needs a nap, I think."

You nod, one elbow resting against the window and your head in your hand. Niko's a bad sleeper, unfortunately. He wasn't always — you used to be thrilled by how good of a sleeper your son was. Multiple naps a day, lasting hours. Rarely waking up at night (at least during the first few months). You were never fully rested, but you weren't exhausted.

You're exhausted now, though. Niko has a classic case of baby-FOMO. If he even hears the shoe cabinet open, he starts wailing like the end of the world is near. Somehow, your seven month old has learned to recognize the little signs that tell him you're about to leave.

"I'm putting him down for a nap after nursing", you say. "He's hungry. Do you have practice today?"

"Coach canceled", she says, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. She glances at you from the corner of her eye. "I have the afternoon off, you know. And so do you..."

"Yeah", you say absently. The implication went straight over your head. Natasha can't blame you, but she's growing more desperate. "That's good. I need to clean out the fridge, I think I saw something come to life in there."

Natasha exhales slowly. Behind you, Niko lets out another noise. She can see him kick his feet through the rear view mirror. She hasn't even tried anything with you yet and he's already determined to stop it.

"I'll clean out the fridge", she says confidently. "Tomorrow, while you're in class."

You turn your head and give her a doubting look. She helps around the apartment — of course she does. She's better at folding laundry than you are, she took over vacuuming, she cleans the windows. But she doesn't handle anything food-related apart from her protein concoctions.

"You've never done that", you say. "Sure you know how to?"

"Please", she says, turning the steering wheel. She parks the car in front of the apartment building and unbuckles. "How hard can it be? I'd rather you get some rest today."

You hum and get out of the car. Natasha pokes her head out of the window to watch you for a moment, then she gets out as well. The sun is warm on her bare arms, but the wind is messing with her hair. Someone down the street yells for their kid to stop running.

Niko is still hungry and grumpy. Though his tears have dried and his wailing has stopped, he's still looking at you like you committed a war crime.

"Greedy", Natasha says. She unlocks the door to the apartment and lets you in first.

"He's a baby", you retort, carrying him with one arm. "Give me a minute, alright?"

All she can do is stare as you disappear into the bedroom. The door doesn't fall shut, but it's only slightly ajar. Natasha curses silently at the loss of your presence, then she takes off her clothes and steps into the bathroom. If she has to wait, she'll at least make sure she's clean by the time the gremlin is asleep.

Ten minutes later, she reemerges from a cloud of steam. One hand towel-drying her hair, she dares peeking into the bedroom. The second her eyes land on the bed, she groans quietly.

You're both on the bed, but now you're asleep. Niko is still latched on, one hand fisting the fabric of the shirt you pushed up, and you're knocked out as well. Your arm is tucked under your head and the soft sounds escaping you let her know it's over. Niko has won once again.

. . .

Card games, pizza boxes, and adult animation playing on tv.

It's loud in Tony's house. Voices fill every room, which overlap with the music playing in the kitchen. What's happening here isn't a party, really. You're not sure whether you would've brought Niko if it was.

For once, your arms are empty. You're sprawled out on the couch, legs draped over Natasha's lap and a mocktail in your hand. You're laughing at something Wanda said, but you're still trying to keep an eye on Niko. He's being passed around like a very sweaty, very heavy football.

Natasha's focus is on something else, though. She doesn't even feel ashamed. Your legs are bare thanks to the dress barely reaching the middle of your thighs. You smell like a mixture of her and your own perfume. Your cheeks are as warm as the summer night is, and you keep stretching and sighing quietly.

Her shorts have been growing tighter for over an hour now. If it keeps going like this, she might explode. You reaching out to trail your fingertips along her bicep doesn't help, and she swallows another large gulp of beer.

She quietly wonders whether leaning forward a bit would help. The possibility of nutting right in her shorts, however, makes her reconsider that idea. Tony Stark's couch is gross enough as it is.

"He's so well-behaved", Wanda coos. She stole Niko from Daisy when she wasn't paying attention. "Can I keep him? You guys just make another."

"I'd give it a shot", Natasha mutters, shifting again. One wrong move and it's over for her.

You've noticed by now. You can feel her bulge press against the side of your knee, hard and unrelenting. You've been testing her limits quietly, by moving your legs a bit or — accidentally, of course — rubbing your leg right against it. So far, she's been doing well. It's surprising.

You'd love to drag her into any of the empty rooms. You've done it before, and it always ended well. But now, you have the aftermath of one of your sexcapades drooling all over Wanda's top.

"Ew", Daisy mumbles. Natasha rolls her eyes at her. "Hey, he looks sleepy."

"He is", Wanda whispers. You raise your eyebrows at the sight: your son, usually wanting to stick to you and Natasha like glue, has curled into Wanda's chest and closed his eyes. He yawns, which means he's still awake, but you can't deny he's about to knock out.

You look at Natasha. Natasha looks at you. Someone coughs.

"Five minutes", she mumbles, shrugging. Her hand runs up and down your thigh. "I can be quick."

"No kidding."

"Can't blame me", she mutters. A frown appears on her face. "Look at you."

Clint has already gotten up and hidden in the hallway. He's seen this before, way too many times, and he's sick of it. But you're both ignoring his presence — or rather, lack thereof — and getting up from the couch instead. You ignore everything else as well. The raised eyebrows and muffled laughter don't bother you as much.

You hurry up the stairs and down the hallway like you're running away from something. Natasha pushes open the first door she can reach and tugs you into the dark space, not even bothering to check where you're going. The door slams shut, you blindly feel the wall for a light switch, and suddenly you can see everything clearly.

"Nerd", you mumble, glancing around the room. A huge desk with a three computer screens and a glowing keyboard, dozens of high tech toys, a bunch of magazines about science and technology.

Natasha has one hand against the door already, resting right next to your head. She glances at Tony's tech room and shrugs. "What'd you expect?"

"It's not exactly sexy."

"Neither is your complaining", she retorts, turning back around. Her lips meet your jaw and her hand bunches up your dress a little. "I wanted to nut on the spot down there. You're a menace."

Your head lolls back against the door. When you feel her body against yours, boner and everything, you shove your hand into her boxers. She moans against your neck, nails sinking into your bare thigh. It's a warm enough night, her hormones are in overdrive, and if she doesn't get some relief soon, she might chase after it herself.

"Five minutes", you say, breathless. Blood has mounted in your cheeks. "He...he'll notice."

"Five", she agrees, but the way she's trying to take your dress off entirely says something different. "Don't have a condom."

You scoff. Baby number two may only be a couple strokes away, but that's never stopped you before. You jerk her off in her boxers instead, watching her face turn more panicked.

"No", she says. She awkwardly wriggles off her shorts and lets them pool around her ankles. "Fuck."

Your underwear has been discarded already. Natasha tugs your dress up enough to see you, and once she's gotten her fill of that, she parts your thighs and settles between them. The tip nudges your clit, then she sinks in deep.

It's been too long since you last had her like this. You're almost out of practice, her size seeming to rip you in half for a moment. But she doesn't move, which allows you adjust a bit, and a soft breath leaves you.

"Good?", she mutters, face buried against your neck. She's one word away from pounding into you like she wants to tear down the door, but hurting you isn't worth that.

"Better", you agree. You grasp at her back, nails leaving behind faint red lines. "Quick."

"Right, yes, sorry." She nods against your neck, peppering it with kisses that are supposed to be soothing. They're hurried instead, but they match the way she starts pulling out and thrusting back in.

Mouth, hips and heart all beat at the same tempo. You clutch her back muscles, rip into her skin, swear and curse under your breath. She throbs inside you, you feel every line and vein against your walls. She tilts her head and lightly sinks her teeth into your neck.

Another thrust. She feels her orgasm creep closer, even though you just started. But it's been way too long, and the pressure is building up inside her like fire in a sealed container. If she finishes too early, she'll just keep going. It's no big deal.

Your hips roll up to meet hers. You close your eyes and try not to curse again when she starts thumbing your clit.

"Babe, baby- too fast."

"You said five minutes", Natasha pleads. Her forehead is covered in beads of sweat, baby hairs sticking to it stubbornly. "Gotta be quick."

"Yes, but..."

The moment she fucks into you again, she hears something she doesn't want to hear. She once read that babies cry to prevent their parents from getting pregnant again — just a theory, nothing to be taken too seriously. But the way Niko managed to interrupt right as she was about to hit that sweet spot tells her otherwise.

Of course, you stop in your tracks when you hear his scream. Muffled, offended, probably fueled by sweat and a lack of sleep. Before she knows what's happening, you're pushing her away.

"Wait", she complains, terror filling her eyes. "Love, only ten more seconds."

"The baby", you say, hurried, and get into your underwear again. "What if he's sick? I told you he was too sweaty."

"He's a furnace", she says, touching your arm. "He's okay, I swear."

It's pointless. You're not listening anymore — instead, you're back in mom-mode. All it took was a wail from your spoiled infant son, who's now probably making your entire friend group panic.

"Shit", Natasha curses when you leave the room. She's still hard, still leaking, but there's no way she can stay up here and finish it herself. If she does, everyone will know. She has no choice but to pull her shorts back up again, awkwardly adjust her jersey so it's covering most of the bulge she's sporting, and then make her way downstairs.

Niko is already in your arms by the time she gets there. He's happy now, nursing like he hasn't been fed in a week. His hands grasp at your skin and his eyes are wide as he stares up at you.

You're completely infatuated. You've forgotten about what the tech room, about Natasha. You're cooing at the baby and wiping the leftover crocodile tears off his chubby cheeks.

"Seriously?", she mutters. Wanda gives her an amused look. "I'll kill you. Why'd you wake him?"

"Wake him?" Wanda frowns. "I didn't 'wake' him. He just noticed you were gone, I think."

"He's seven months old! He can't notice that."

Niko gives her a side eye when she sits down next to you. His fingers curl into your skin and he makes a smacking noise. You smile at the sound, but Natasha is sulking. Not only is the little gremlin fine, but he's thriving.

And you? Fully reset as well. Skin dewy, eyes glowing, the smile on your face telling her you're almost completely unaffected. Which hurts, considering you used to drag her away only to have a quick orgasm.

"I'm waking you up at 2am", she mutters, picking at her shorts. "We're seeking refuge. Which country has the lowest birth rate again?"

"Funny", you shoot back, barely glancing at her. Niko grunts and reaches up, his hand hitting your cheek. "Seven months old, by the way. You're beefing with a seven month old."

"He's a cockblock."

Around you, conversations are going back to normal. Your interrupted hookup isn't interesting anymore, even if Natasha is still sitting there like a horny soldier that got denied her last wish. She's got her arms crossed over her chest, still hard and blue balled.

She tells herself you'll continue this once Niko is asleep. But he's her son, and though she is proud of the fact that you birthed her tiny clone, it's still a bit annoying to see him act all smug. Cockblocked by her own bloodline, dethroned and defeated.

When she looks at him again, he raises his eyebrows in that clumsy little way he does. His hand is grasping at your cheek, he's mid-slurp, yet he's giving her that look.

Natasha knows what that look means. You both know because he made you find out before, back in a hotel room. You weren't careful while sneaking into the bathroom, and he made sure to voice his complaints in the only way he knows.

It's about to happen again. He's not falling asleep anytime soon. He's going to stay latched on, which means she can prepare for a very long, very hard night. Literally.

. . .

"Babe, did you see my socks?", Natasha calls from the bathroom.

It's 1 in the afternoon. You're at your makeshift vanity — a desk, complete with a table mirror and two pencil holders full of makeup —, getting ready for her basketball game. It's a mild spring day, and the sun is shining in through the windows.

You look at yourself in the mirror again. A navy polo shirt, paired with a white tennis skirt. You touch up your eyeliner and start looking for a lipstick shade that will match. Niko, sitting on your lap, gurgles when you pull out the acrylic organizer full of lipsticks.

"No", you call back, refraining from rolling your eyes. You let Niko 'gift' her new socks for her birthday one time and they immediately become her lucky charm. "You have other socks too, you know."

"These are special!"

This time, you do roll your eyes. You grab a pink shade of lipstick and open it with one hand. Niko reaches for it, his fingers stretched out and his mouth dropping open.

"Oh, you like this?", you mumble, smiling. You apply some and hum at your reflection. "Doesn't match though, does it?"

Niko doesn't care. He grunts and tries to lean forward to reach the acrylic organizer, but you tut and nudge it away from his uncoordinated hands. Ignoring the sound of protest he lets out, you wipe the lipstick away again and try a deeper shade of red.

The baby looks up at you and suddenly stops whining. Instead, he lets out a giggle and slaps his palm against your mouth.

"This one, honey?", you ask, grabbing his wrist and kissing his palm. You don't even notice how Natasha, hair damp and body only wrapped into a white towel, steps out of the bathroom again. "This one's better, yes?"

She stops in her tracks, eyes landing on you and the baby. You're giggling at him, brushing your fingers over his red curls and bouncing him on your lap. Then you lean in to kiss his cheek, and a red lipstick mark is left behind.

She crosses her arms. Usually, it's her thumb you use to blot your lips with. She loves the bit of color it leaves behind, whether she admits it or not. Apparently, those days are over. Niko's the one getting cuddles and kisses instead.

It takes you a moment, but you end up spotting her through the mirror. The second you turn around, she's on her way to the kitchen. Maybe she can pretend she was on her way there. Maybe it'll be believable. But you tilt your head, eyebrows raised knowingly, and she immediately clocks that won't be the case.

"Socks", she mumbles, scooping protein powder into her shaker. "They're gone. They were in the clean laundry when I saw them last time."

"You don't need them", you reply. You use a napkin to make sure the lipstick looks flawless, then you follow her into the kitchen. Niko stares at the shaker as Natasha rattles it to make all the clumps go away. "They're just socks."

"They're lucky socks."

"You say that about everything. Lucky kisses, lucky handshakes. Just admit you don't need those."

"They help me win", she says, taking a sip of her protein shake. "Also, I still haven't gotten my lucky kiss."

You sigh, but it's all for show. Stepping closer, you get on your tiptoes and lean in to press a kiss to her cheek. You could stop there, but instead, you leave one on the corner of her mouth as well. Then, her lips. She tastes like vanilla and artificial sweetener, but you're used to it, so you let her cup your cheek with one hand and deepen the kiss.

Her lips feel warm against yours. Teeth bump, noses brush. She smudges your lipstick and doesn't even care, because if you have to reapply it, she'll get to blot it and feel useful again. Only when she puts the protein shake aside to move her hand under your skirt and palm your ass, you pull away.

Natasha pouts, still groping your butt and feeling the cotton fabric of your underwear. You raise your eyebrows.

"The baby", you say. "Your game. We're leaving in twenty minutes."

"I only need five", she promises. Niko frowns at her, one hand clutching the neckline of your shirt. "He can stay in his playpen."

"You have a game!"

"Screw the game", she mumbles, pulling you closer again. The baby lets out an audible huff this time. "Look how cute he is. Another one wouldn't hurt, you know."

Much to her dismay, you let out a laugh. It's not that you disagree with the sentiment — Niko is cute, cuter than anything you've ever seen. You both love him more than life. But you're not going to go through nine month of sitting in lectures, pregnant and nauseous, again. You're not about to soothe a colicky baby in the middle of someone's presentation again, either.

One and done. That's the motto for now. Niko is exhausting enough.

"You're insane", you say, adjusting your hold on the baby. "Poor me. My fiancée has lost her mind."

"Yeah, well, I was joking", she retorts. She wasn't — her eyes are filled with the kind of offense that tells you she was hit right where it hurts. "He's more than enough."

"I know", you say. Niko tilts his head at her. All that's missing is him sticking out his tongue or flipping her off. He's her son, so she wouldn't be too surprised. "Now go get dressed. We're leaving soon."

By the time you arrive in front of the gym, Niko is asleep. Of course, he decided to knock out right when the timing isn't right. If you were at home, Natasha could pull you into the kitchen for some privacy. You're surrounded by her teammates instead, who have been waiting for her.

Natasha gets out of the car, and you follow close behind. Once the baby is in his stroller, you walk into the building.

Inside, everyone immediately gets to work. Warm-ups, team strategy, quick conversations over Gatorade and peanut butter sandwiches. Basketballs thud against the court or hit the rim with a loud clank. You ignore the people around you and walk to the bleachers, the stroller clicking quietly as it rolls over the floor.

Thankfully, Niko stays asleep even when someone gets yelled at for ruining a shot. He's red-cheeked and drooling, one sock slipping off and his hand clutching a stuffed elephant he got from one of Natasha's teammates. You fix his sock absently before pulling out your phone. You start looking for cars — your current one keeps breaking down — but something else catches your attention.

Natasha's in the middle of the court. With her hair in a low bun and her jersey showing off every inch of her biceps, you suddenly regret not taking things further back home. Even now that she's supposed to be listening to the coach, her eyes keep drifting over to you.

All she sees is you. What she should be thinking about is the game, or the fact she needs to make up for the fact that she only slept three hours last night. But mentally, she's still in the kitchen. Still trying to get you to leave the baby in another room and instead coddle her for a moment.

She loves that you attend all of her games, but most of the time, it's more distracting than it is helpful. When you sit there looking like that — hair pristine, legs crossed, lipstick still flawless — staying on the court is possibly the hardest part of the game.

The others know that, too. Which is why you get flirted with by randoms occasionally. She knows it's all a scheme to rile her up, but unfortunately, it works.

"Romanoff?"

Natasha's head whips around. Her coach doesn't look too impressed, with his eyebrows raised and his fingers drumming against the back of the clipboard he's holding.

"Yeah?", she says, clearing her throat. "Everything good?"

"We don't want to kick them out", he says slowly. "You'd throw a fit if we did. So don't make us do it, alright? I need you to be at the top of your game."

"I am", she lies. You, naked and all over her, pops into her head. At least one thing she's at the top of the game at. "It's just...Niko's not doing too well. Wanted to check if he's okay."

"Your spawn is asleep", Carol informs her. Natasha barely keeps herself from grabbing a basketball and chucking it at her head. "You're just horny."

The coach doesn't need to add anything else. He just tilts his head pointedly and she sighs.

"I'll be good", she promises, stepping back. "I swear. One lucky kiss and it's all peachy."

"Romanoff-"

"Just one!", she cuts him off. She's walking backwards, right toward the bleachers. "You'll be so proud of me, I swear. Let me just do this."

He sighs, but doesn't argue anymore. The second he's looking at someone else, she turns around and jumps over the barricade. You've noticed her approaching you by now, so you put the cup of iced decaf coffee you brought aside. Condensation slides down the side and pools on the bench beneath.

"Everything good?", you ask. She stops right in front of you, towering over you, so you tilt your head up.

"Perfect", she assures you. She cups your face and leans in, pressing her lips to yours like she's starving. You make a surprised noise, but quickly melt into it.

Your hands grasp the sides of her jersey. She steps even closer, so close you can smell her deodorant and body lotion. When you tilt your head to deepen the kiss and finally use some tongue, she feels a rush of heat that pools right in her lower half.

You raise your eyebrows and pull away. "You're going to play like that?"

Natasha glances at the very obvious tent in her shorts and groans. She shouldn't complain — this 'lucky kiss' was her idea. She got herself into this mess, and now, a gym full of basketball players is going to see her like this. A crowd of students as well, if she doesn't get herself under control soon.

"Dammit", she curses.

"Nice", you tease, cupping her through the thin fabric. Her cheeks flare up with heat. "All for me?"

"Babe", she hisses. She grabs your wrist, still gentle but also rock-hard and flustered. "Don't do that."

You wrap your fingers around it fully, looking up at her with feigned confusion. Slowly but with the pressure of someone who wants her to nut in her meshed shorts, you drag your hand down her length. Her knees nearly buckle.

"You're an idiot", you state, moving your hand back up. You squeeze slightly, and she barely keeps herself from whining. "Good luck making a single shot."

This time, she's a bit more firm. She pulls your hand away, which is good. But your hand applies pressure to the head, briefly but overpowering, and a whimper slips from her lips.

"Now you want to?", she complains, her voice raspy and hurried. "The game's about to begin!"

"Consider it motivation", you reply. You adjust your polo shirt a little, just enough to reveal more cleavage. It's not much, but breastfeeding has enhanced certain beloved features, and Natasha blanks. She'd love to say something, but all she manages is a long 'uhmmm.'

You smile faintly and pat her stomach with the back of your hand. She blinks a few times.

"The game", you remind her. She turns around and looks at the coach, who's staring her down. "Come on, you're about to get benched."

"Fuck", she curses. She jumps back down the bleachers, still hard and flustered but filled with the kind of determination only she possesses.

Back down on the court, she tries to practice a few moves before the game starts. The bleachers fill up until an actual audience is watching the teams warm up. Finally, they get into position.

Natasha looks up at you again, still flushed and nervous. You wink at her, but don't get anything in return. Instead, she tries to focus on the game.

Tipoff happens. She barely reacts in time, her mind still spinning and her body still thrumming. You watch her fumble with the ball, watch her miss a shot. It's only been a couple minutes since the game has started, but the coach already looks like he's about to bench her.

Sloppy — that's the best word to describe her current performance. She's stuck replaying the kitchen scene from earlier, which doesn't help with the boner she's sporting. At this point, half the gym has noticed. You resist the urge to take a picture.

Natasha almost doesn't catch the ball when Carol passes it to her. The blonde's eyes widen.

"Jesus. You're embarrassing me, Romanoff."

"Fuck off", she hisses. Turning around, she tries to find a way to tuck herself into the waistband of her shorts and maybe make her problem go away. But she has an audience, so all she can do is let her shoulders drop and exhale quietly.

Only when the second quarter begins does she find her footing. Niko is wide awake by now, sitting on your lap and suckling on his fist like tiny royalty. Natasha manages a clean three-pointer and the entire gym starts roaring. She was disappointing them at first, but it seems like she's getting some brownie points now.

By the time halftime rolls around, she's gotten rid of her hard-on and the fantasies in her head. For the first time in months, she ignores your presence on the bleachers — instead, she sprints into the locker room and leans over the sink. The water feels cold when she splashes her face with it, which helps more than she'd imagined.

As she dries her hands and face with a paper towel, her phone buzzes. She doesn't know why she looks at it; a gut feeling tells her to let it go and return to the court. But she fishes it out of her locker anyway, and she foolishly opens the message you sent.

Natasha doesn't mind you sending her nudes. In fact, she encourages it. But in this very moment, she wishes you didn't have access to a camera.

Smudged lipstick. No bra, no shirt. Only a pair of her boxers cover some of your skin. Eyes that stare up into the camera, which is slightly blurry from the heat.

You didn't take this now, obviously. It was clearly taken in bed. You did wait for the perfect moment to send to her, though — and oh, did you succeed.

Natasha stares at the picture like she hasn't seen you naked in a decade. She's so distracted she doesn't hear the door to the locker room open at first, but when she does, she nearly tosses her phone into the trash can. Face glowing red, she blinks at the coach.

"Romanoff", he says, narrowing his eyes. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah", she stammers. She tries to subtly adjust her shorts. "Everything alright?"

"We're continuing in five", he reminds her. "You're making people talk, by the way, so try and...calm down a bit, okay?"

She nods hastily, still tugging at her shorts like they're going to make the issue go away magically. That's not the case, obviously, so she groans before tucking herself into her waistband again. Before she steps out onto the court again, she reaches for her phone. You get the text message right as you're about to feed Niko some puréed carrot.

Natasha: you're evil — 4.30pm

Natasha: genuinely — 4.30pm

Natasha: i want you

to make up for this. — 4.31pm

You don't bother texting back, as you can already see her reemerge from the lockers. Your eyes meet, you smile, and she rolls her eyes and gets back into position. Niko gurgles at the sight of her, spitting carrot all over his new onesie.

For some reason, all of this is enough to make her lock in. She plays like she's possessed, swishes the ball through the net like she's getting paid for every point she makes. She gets fouled, too — she hits the ground hard, and the sound echoes through the gym.

You jump up like you're ready to sue, which makes Niko whine. But she's on her feet again, looking like nothing ever happened.

The game ends with the final buzzer. Her team wins by 17 points, which is a reason to celebrate. Everyone is cheering, yelling, tossing popcorn and jumping up and down the bleachers. The teams shake hands, but Natasha decides not to partake in that this time. Instead, she's sprinting toward the bleachers.

You meet her at the barricade. She's dripping with sweat, her jersey already in her hands. She swaps it for the baby.

"Good game", you tease, putting on her jersey. She kisses Niko's cheek. "I'm proud of you."

"Uh-huh?" She nods and bounces the baby. "That's good. I was struggling for a bit."

"I know."

Natasha hums and glances at you. She nods at her teammates, who are still celebrating. Someone is dumping a water dispenser over the coach's head.

"I'll be back in a minute", she promises. She's still holding Niko as she starts walking back to the court. You tilt your head. "I swear. He needs a high five too, you know."

"Sure", you say. You're used to this. Every now and then, Natasha will carry Niko onto court like he's the team's new mascot. Which, by now, he kind of is. Everyone on campus knows him.

Natasha has a plan, though. The moment everyone got to touch his sweaty little fist, she hands him to the person she trusts most before running back to the bleachers.

You raise your eyebrows at her, but she doesn't reply. She just grabs your hand and pulls you up.

"Where's-"

"He's fine", she quickly says. Don't drop, don't lose, don't break — that's what she told Clint as she gave him Niko. If there's one person she trusts with her son, it's her best friend.

You frown as she tugs you down the stairs. Natasha is strict about giving Niko to anyone, friend or not. Even your family members have gone through background checks.

"You're desperate."

Natasha scoffs, edging past groups of people and stepping over empty bottles. She's heading straight for the locker room.

She doesn't say anything, though. Because she is desperate. Because she spent half of her basketball game with a hard-on in her shorts and palms that wouldn't stop sweating. Because it's been weeks, literally, and she's sick of getting off in the shower by herself.

"You're not?", she retorts. She pulls you into the showers with her and shuts the curtain hastily.

Before you really know what's happening, your back is pressed against the tiled wall. Cold, still wet from the showers that were taken earlier. Natasha's hands push under your shirt and roam your upper body, her mouth on your neck already.

You moan. You can't help it. You're worried about Niko being left alone with a bunch of basketball players, but your brain is foggy already. Natasha nudges the handle on the shower faucet, and water starts raining down on you.

"Missed you", she mumbles, mouth hot and urgent against your skin. Her fingers find your bra and quickly unclasp it. "Missed this."

"Nat, the-"

She lifts her head enough to shut you up with her lips. Her hands knead and squeeze flesh on their descent, all the way down to your skirt. Your clothes are clinging to you, water is dripping down her jaw. Your moans are barely covered by the sound of water running.

Shorts off, skirt hiked up. Her fingers slide into you easily, and she grabs your thigh to hoist it up. She finally sinks into you and sees stars.

"Fuck", she mumbles, voice muffled by your neck.

"Oh", you breathe, agreeing. Your hips roll up against hers, and she nudges deeper. Her tip prods against a spot deep inside of you. It makes her moan.

You're both slippery, and her hands keep sliding down your skin whenever she doesn't pay attention. It happens too often, but there's not much she can do about it. She'd rather focus on the feeling of you clenching around her, and grinding against her. You moan and her brain short-circuits.

She smells like deodorant and sweat. Her curls are drenched. Your head lolls back, against the tiles, and hers drops forward. Kisses cover every inch of exposed skin, warm and wet.

You meet every thrust with a roll of your hips. In the showers, it's as foggy as it is inside your brain. You're focusing on Natasha, on her fucking into you like this is the last time she'll ever get to do this. She lifts your shirt enough to reach your breasts — thanks to Niko still nursing, her access to them hasn't been sufficient.

The second she starts peppering them with kisses, the haze in your head clears up a little. You still feel her inside of you, deep and relentless, her hands grasping at your sides and her lips around your nipple. But suddenly, you're not as immersed in it anymore. You lift your head, eyes clearer now, and bite back a breathless moan.

"Nat, where- where's the baby?"

Natasha curses, still buried deep inside of you. You're hot and tight and she really doesn't want to pause this to respond. Your mom-brain has awoken again, it seems.

Your nails rake down her back when she pulls out so only the head is inside. She presses open-mouthed kisses against your breast and thrusts back into you. She has your thigh pressed snugly against her side, and her fingers grip your skin for stability.

"He's fine", she finally murmurs. One hand moves to your ass, palming it. "I'm close."

"Yeah, I know", you pant. You can feel her twitch against your walls already. "But Niko..."

She groans against your breast. If you don't stop talking about the baby, she might never finish. She's so close, so close it hurts, but you're stubborn and overly cautious. Usually she is, too. There's no way she'd just leave Niko with anyone. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

"One more minute", she grunts, face buried in your chest. She has to try and speed run her orgasm. Her own fault for building up her stamina like this. "Promise he's okay."

"Natasha, the baby."

And again, you're talking about Niko. She knows she's having some kind of effect on you — you're flushed and breathless, trying your hardest not to be too loud. Despite you being in the locker room, the walls aren't entirely soundproof. If someone walks past the door, they'll hear you.

She's starting to wonder whether she's doing something wrong. There has to be a reason why you can't focus on her for a few minutes, after all.

"Babe", she moans, eyes squeezing shut, "you're distracting us."

You pause, if only briefly. She's so deep inside of you she doesn't even have to move, really — all she does is grind deeper, hitting spots that make tingles shoot down your spine. You almost feel bad for your mom-brain kicking in again.

"What if they- oh", you moan. Your eyes slip shut. "What if they drop him?"

Natasha laughs against your skin, then moans. Her thumb finds your clit, and she circles it.

"They won't."

You'd love to believe her, but the internal tug-of-war continues. You're somewhere between the deep, aching pleasure she's causing you, and the nagging worry that's keeping you from coming on the spot. Your body is begging for it at this point — you can feel the orgasm creep closer with every sloppy thrust.

"What if he-" Another moan. You meet her hips with your own. "Shit, right there."

Natasha has been leaving hickeys all over your chest. Your breast, collarbone, shoulder. She throbs inside you and cums, finally, unloading herself in you and filling you up until it drips down your thighs.

Her thrusts slow down, then stop entirely. You're both soaking wet and out of breath. Soft pants echo from the discolored tiles.

She nuzzles your chest with her face and you, fingers raking through dripping wet red hair, pause. You blink, then slowly push her off you. She wants to grab you and turn you around, pin you against the wall so she can continue from behind. However, she knows that won't happen.

"Niko", you say, staring at her. She seems to shrink a bit. "You left our infant son alone with a bunch of- bunch of jocks! Are you stupid?"

"I promise he's okay", she says, still roaming your body with her hands. "He loves them, they love him. He's fine."

You scoff and bat her hands away. She gives you a sheepish look.

"'Fine'", you mock. You turn off the water and step out of the shower, clothes soaking wet. "He probably thinks we abandoned him!"

"No, he-" She falters and grabs a towel to wrap it around you. You let her — begrudgingly. "I bet he's relieved to get a break from us."

You shoot her a glare that shuts her right up. Part of you feels smug, watching that happen. Natasha's still scared by you. She's six feet of muscle and confidence, but you manage to make her go quiet with just one look.

You dry your arms and face with the towel as you step out of the locker room. Natasha hurries to keep up, the wet soles of her shoes squeaking on the vinyl floor. You leave water puddles in your path.

The second you step into the gym, Clint looks up. To your surprise, he doesn't seem panicked — he doesn't look happy either, though. And neither does Niko. You start running when a pout forms on his face.

"Oh, my poor baby", you coo, scooping him up. He lets out a whine. "I'm so sorry, my love. This was mama's fault."

Natasha exchanges a look with Clint. She's used to taking the blame by now, no matter what happened. Truthfully, sometimes nothing has to happen for her to take some kind of blame.

"See?", she says. "He's fine."

Niko and you both turn your heads at the exact same moment. The look of judgement is identical as well. Natasha wasn't sure whether a baby could be passive aggressive before, but Niko just answered that question.

"He looks disgusted."

"He is", you retort, bouncing him. He frowns at Natasha, then looks at you and switches up. A wide smile, exposing gums and a single tooth. He grabs the necklace you're wearing and clutches the charm in his chubby fist. "Oh, my angel."

Clint glances at Natasha. "When's the last time she coddled you like this?"

No reply. Instead, she picks up a half empty bottle and chucks it at his head. He jumps to the side just in time, laughing. He knows he's stirring the pot, and he's enjoying every second of it. It's his duty as Niko's godfather.

Natasha, however, isn't too amused. She doesn't like to admit that she's jealous. Of a baby, too. Her own son, her DNA, her own flesh and blood. He got his charm from her — the smile, the green eyes. Red curls and head tilts. He knows how to make others fall in love with him.

Unfortunately, he's using that to divert all attention from her as well. You only have eyes for him.

You're still not looking at her. You're turned to the wall, your shirt lifted enough to be able to feed him. Natasha barely stops herself from rolling her eyes. Just minutes ago, that was all hers.

"A baby", Clint reminds her, using that same voice you always use. "Grown adult, by the way."

He might have a point. Natasha will keep trying, though. She'll get your attention eventually. You're not going to keep neglecting her forever, after all.

. . .

For once, the room is silent. No baby snoring, no white noise playing. No rain, either, and no sounds of traffic thanks to the windows being closed. All Natasha hears is ragged breathing and the sound of slick mouths meeting over and over again.

Her hand slowly creeps up your back. Fingertips graze the clasp of your bra, and she manages to undo it despite you being a distraction. The pressure around your chest loosens, and the bra leaves behind pressure marks. Red lines, faint and wrapping around your torso like vines.

Not even the baby monitor on the nightstand fazes her. She's completely focused on you.

"Slow down", you murmur. You wrap your arm around her neck and pull her closer, so close that she's chest to chest with you. "Why're you in a hurry?"

She shakes her head and doesn't answer. Instead, she tugs the bra straps off your shoulders. More skin is exposed, slightly paler than the rest of you, and she leans in to pepper it with kisses. All hers at last. Nobody to interrupt.

Your back arches when her hand sneaks between your legs. You're only wearing shorts, so it's easy for her to push past the thin piece of fabric. Calloused fingers run through your folds and you try to rut your hips against her hand.

"Thought you told me to slow down", she mumbles, voice muffled against your chest. "Who's impatient now?"

You can't speak anymore. She's got you pinned to the bed, all sweaty and covered in kisses. She's full of lipstick as well — the red color is smudged all over her collarbones, arms, stomach. Not even her thighs were safe.

It's your turn. She's kissing all over you now, smelling sun lotion and perfume. A hint of something sweet, too. Maybe milk.

She traces the marks on your back as she nuzzles into your chest. You're still grinding your whole soul into her fingers, and honestly, she's living for it. No sharing. No baby who knows how to pick the worst moments. Just you and her, trying to stay quiet as to not wake the sleeping infant in the nursery.

There's no way for her to speak through the mouthful of breast she's apparently trying to swallow, but there's no need for it, either. All she has to do is curl her fingers and listen to your gasp.

Things are going good. She's knuckles-deep inside you, she's hard and close to ruining her shorts, and if she plays her cards right, she'll finish inside you instead of on her own hand.

Another thrust of her fingers. You're swollen around her by now, your sensitivity skyrocketing with each pump. You seem immersed enough for Natasha to believe that nothing will distract you — eyes half-lidded, moans shaky and erratic. You keep clenching around her.

You're getting closer. Natasha's free hand starts fumbling with her shorts, trying to free herself. Then, the baby monitor releases a cry of complaint.

Immediately, you're sitting up and scrambling to grab the little device. You can see Niko on the screen, sitting in his crib and screaming like a banshee. You let out a curse, and Natasha realizes protesting is pointless. You won't be able to focus until the baby is happy again.

You get out of bed before she can properly pull her fingers from you. The door opens and you disappear down the hallway, heading straight for Niko's nursery. Natasha sighs and slumps into the messy sheets. Even from all the way over here, she can hear your voice as you soothe the baby.

It takes a while. Five minutes, then ten. Twenty. Eventually, she's had enough. She scoots out of bed and makes her way to the nursery.

She hears your voice and stops in the doorway. You're in the middle of the room, carrying Niko and humming something. He's not having it — one hand curled into your bare shoulder, he lets out an undignified huff. Tears are drying on his chubby cheeks.

"What happened?", she finally asks, still sulking a bit.

"I don't know. Maybe a bad dream, or maybe something woke him up. Did you hear the cars outside earlier?"

Earlier — back when she was knuckles-deep inside you, when you were moaning into her ear. Soaked fingers and swollen lips. Of course she didn't hear the damn cars.

"No", she says, glancing at Niko. He raises his eyebrows in the clumsy way he does. "Want me to take over?"

Natasha knows what she's doing. For some reason, it takes him way longer to fall asleep when you're there. When it's just her, he gets sleepy way faster. If she's lucky, he'll be out cold in ten minutes.

You give her a hesitant look and cradle him a bit closer. He lets out a wail and kicks his socked feet.

"I don't know", you say. You get an unimpressed look in response. "I just want to make sure he's okay."

"He is okay", she says, walking up to you. "He's thriving. Look at him."

"He cried."

So will I, Natasha thinks. She's still bitter. She scoops him from your arms, anyways. The way he nestles into her makes her forget about her little grudge, if only briefly. He's her baby, after all. No matter how many times he interrupts, no matter how much attention he steals from her.

"See?", she says, rubbing his back. He blinks slowly. "He's good. Better than good. Doing better than I am."

You hesitate again, then cave. You could use a break, and they need to bond a little, anyway. It's been a rough few weeks.

You kiss both their cheeks before leaving. The door shuts quietly, and the second Niko realizes you're gone, he turns to Natasha. A frown appears on his face and he slaps his hands against her chest. She sighs, but the corners of her mouth tug into a smile.

"Alright, mister", she mumbles, walking to the rocking chair in the corner. She opens the window before sitting down. "Just you and me now. You happy? I doubt it."

No response — obviously. She leans over to grab the folded blanket on the dresser, which she drapes over the baby. He's yawning already. The air coming in through the window is definitely helping her with putting him to sleep.

She studies his face in the soft lighting of his nightlight. Definitely her own features, but much sweeter. There's very little he got from you, which is a shame.

"This isn't fair, you know", she mumbles. She starts moving the rocking chair a little. "You look like me. You're replacing me, aren't you? She already likes you better."

He coos, his suckling on the pacifier getting a bit quicker. Sleepy eyes blink and stare up at her, then close again. Natasha smiles and brushes a red lock out of his face.

"It's my turn", she says. "You need to sleep through the night, sir. Do you know how long it's been since I had mommy all to myself? Way too long. But you wouldn't know, would you?"

His eyes stay closed for half a minute, which is almost long enough to make her believe he's passed out. But then he opens them again with a start, one arm flailing as he attempts to sit up. She shushes him and pats his back.

"No, no, you're sleeping. You've got her wrapped around your finger, you little bastard. If you stay up, it's over for me."

Somehow, that does the trick. Niko yawns, his pacifier almost falling out of his mouth, then closes his eyes again. He snuggles into her chest and lets out a tired little huff. Relief floods her, and she lets out a sigh.

"Mhm, that's right", she mumbles. "She's neglecting me, kid. All because of you. You better stay asleep."

She stays seated for another ten minutes, just to make sure he's actually asleep. Once his breathing has evened out and he isn't moving too much anymore, she carefully gets up and balances the sleeping baby in her arms. The most difficult part is the transfer to his crib — a lot could go wrong here. But she lowers him down onto the mattress slowly, removes the blanket, shushes him when he stirs. She even manages to put his wearable blanket back on.

As she closes the door to the nursery, you adjust the fabric that's hugging your body now. Skin tight, short, definitely bought before you had Niko. Maybe that's not a bad thing, though — the dress accentuates every curve nicely. It looks even better paired with the lipstick you're wearing.

Natasha has no clue you heard every word. The baby monitor was still on, and even if it didn't film her since the camera is right above the crib, you could still hear her talk. You heard every complaint, and though they mostly seemed like jokes, you couldn't help but feel bad. She adores Niko, you know that. Yet, she's pouty and a bit annoyed that her nights have changed so drastically.

You can't blame her. She sees you gush over someone else now. What you're doing is basically dote on a smaller, cuter version of her.

The door opens and you turn around. Natasha looks up and pauses. She wasn't expecting you to be out of bed, or even awake. She definitely wasn't expecting you to be wearing that, either.

There's no way she can say anything. Her mouth dries up and her body stays frozen in place. All she can do is stare.

"You okay?", you ask softly. You tilt your head and step closer. "What's with the look on your face?"

Natasha clears her throat. "That's my favorite dress", she mumbles, voice cracking. "Summer break."

A smile tugs at your lips. You remember that day. Strolling through Rome with your family, looking at cute little shops and eating ice cream. Bending over to pick up a coin you dropped. The dress rode up a tiny bit, but just enough to make her tug you into some alleyway.

"Almost got us arrested", you add. You're not going to tell her that you heard her whine to Niko. You grab her hand instead and pull it to your waist. "Still want your turn?"

She scoffs, her fingers pressing into your side. She draws you closer, dips her head to press a kiss to your exposed shoulder. Her fingers twitch, restless and impatient to put them to use.

"Don't even have to ask", she mutters, still sulking but slightly soothed. "I've waited long enough, I think."

"I know", you whisper. You put your finger under her chin to tilt her head up. She chases after the brief kiss you place on her lips, but you're already walking her backwards. "Come on, sit down. Don't move a muscle."

Natasha doesn't argue. She doesn't want to, either. She sits down, hands resting on the mattress and eyes glued to you. There's one good thing about being touch-deprived, and that is getting hard way quicker. Not that it ever took her long, anyway.

You put your hands on her shoulders to push her back against the headrest. The dress makes it a little harder to move, but you manage to sit on her lap anyway. Lifting your hand, you brush loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"You deserve more", you say quietly, tilting your head. She repeats the gesture without noticing. "More attention, more time, more everything. We both do. I know it's hard with the baby, but if we're too busy, we need to try and make time."

Natasha shakes her head. "No, I just...I sometimes miss the way things were."

"Mhm?" You lean in and place a kiss on her cheek. "Just us two, huh?"

"Yeah", she admits. Her hand runs up and down your side, to your back, smoothing along the curve of your ass. "It was different."

"I know", you mumble. Your finger hooks into the necklace she's wearing. "You want my attention back."

Natasha scoffs, her hand lightly patting your side. She shrugs, but the mask of indifference she's putting on wouldn't even fool your son. You can see right through her — she's jealous, she's starved, she's been patient. She has no expectations, but that doesn't mean she can't miss it.

"I like having your attention", she eventually admits, eyebrows furrowed. Her hand grips your side. "I know why you're distracted, but it sucks sometimes."

You hum and cup her face. She closes her eyes when you start peppering slow kisses all over it. You expand the area you're targeting and continue along her jaw, down her neck. You're determined to kiss the scowl on her face away.

"Don't be mad, mama", you mumble, nuzzling her neck. Your hand reaches between you, slipping into her boxers. "I'm here now, aren't I? You got my attention."

Psychological warfare — that's the first thing that enters Natasha's mind. The second thing is how good your hand feels as you start jerking her off, slowly but firmly. Her hips almost buck.

"Not mad", she says, trying not to close her eyes. She's getting out of breath more and more with each movement of your hand. You squeeze gently and she curses. "Fuck- I missed you."

"I'm right here", you promise. You kiss her on the mouth, hand still moving inside her boxers. "I'm not going anywhere. You're still the one."

Every stroke of your hand makes the pressure grow more. She throbs hotly, squirming underneath you and trying to keep herself from nutting two minutes into the handjob. It probably won't end at that, but it'd be embarrassing.

You let go without warning her first. Before she can complain, you're tugging down her shorts and scooting off her lap. Her eyes widen a bit when you position yourself between her legs.

"Oh", she moans, raking her fingers through your hair. "That's, uhm..."

"Don't talk", you coo. "Let me take care of you tonight. You've done enough."

Natasha nods, breathless and blushing. She tips her head back so it rests against the wall, her hand still buried in your hair. You're right — she has done enough. She's the one who initiated a large majority of sexual intimacy over the past few months. It's your turn.

You kiss her thigh, leaving a red lipstick mark behind. Another one follows, then you kiss up her shaft. You taste precum before taking her into your mouth. You can't see her, but the noise that leaves her tells you enough.

Slender fingers grip your hair. She hears you gag, feels the silky heat of your mouth, and nearly loses it. If this is what happens when she waits a bit longer than she's used to, she'll do it over and over again.

White heat shoots through her body. She told herself she'd hold back, but your tongue runs through the slit, you twist your hand around the base, and suddenly she has no choice anymore. You taste her on your tongue and down your throat. When you look up again, your mouth is smudged with a mixture of cum and lipstick.

"See?", you say, already stroking her from base to tip again. The overstimulation makes her whine. "All yours. Don't forget that."

"No", she agrees, eyes squeezed shut. "Never forgetting it."

"Good." You lean in and kiss her, still jerking her off. "Now tell me: what do you want, baby?"

There're a million things she wants, and they all involve you. But that's impossible, so she settles for the one thing she's been seeking out for weeks at this point. She needs to be inside you, and she needs to come inside you, too.

Hands on her shoulders and eyes on hers. No words, just rapid breathing and quiet noises coming from the back of your throats. You don't worry about protection too much. Nothing's happened so far. The universe wouldn't be cruel enough to punish you for finally having time for intimacy again, after all. Or that's what Natasha tells herself.

You let her finish inside, and it's magical. What's almost just as magical is lying down afterwards and not hearing a sound. Instead, silence. The traffic outside, the overlapping of your breaths inside. She buries her face in your chest and listens to your heartbeat slow down to a normal pace again.

"He's asleep."

"Yeah", you agree, running your hand through her hair. "It's quiet."

Natasha hums and kisses the side of your breast. It hasn't been long since you got Niko used to sleeping in his own room. No more crib right next to your bed — instead, he spends almost every night in his nursery.

She looks up and you immediately know she's about to say something stupid. She knows it's stupid, too. She says it anyway.

"I kinda miss him", she says. "Can I go get him?"

You raise your eyebrows at her, but don't reply. There's no need to, as she can pretty much read your mind at this point. She shrugs sheepishly.

"You're thinking it, too."

"Thinking that I want to wake my peacefully sleeping baby?" You scoff and swat at her shoulder. "No. Are you insane?"

"Come on", she pleads.

"No", you repeat, frowning. "I got you to myself for ten minutes and you want to ruin it? No. Seriously."

Natasha sighs, but caves. She slumps into you again, body half draped over yours. Her hand runs up and down your thigh, thumb tracing the faint stretch marks there. She's happy about it, though. It tells her you feel something similar to what she felt.

"Funny", she mumbles. "Are you jealous now?"

For that, she almost gets banished to the nursery with Niko.

#short n sweet #short n sweet au #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #wlw #lesbian #marvel mcu #marvel #wlw smut #smut #fluff #moon’s fics

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emo-batboy · 2 years ago

Text

Things Battinson Totally Did During His First Year of University

Using Unhinged or Odd Things I Also Did as a College Freshman :D

Note: for this list, let’s believe Bruce was living in an (admittedly expensive and swanky) dorm because it is required for first-years, especially those entering at a young age, and Alfred told him he needed to make friends. Also yes I did every single thing on this list. I never claimed to be a role model

Bruce, to his TA: I’m so sorry I’m late to class. I gave blood a few hours ago and almost fainted on the way here, but it won’t happen again.

Signs up for a class called “Age of Dinosaurs” despite it not being required whatsoever and proceeds to work his entire schedule around it

Bruce: Your mental health is super important. If you think you should see the on-campus therapist, go see them. Friend: Fine. I’ll sign up for therapy if you sign up for therapy too. Bruce: Hold on-

Finds a loophole in his housing contract that allows him to get a pet frog, calls him kermit :)

Gets a second frog because Kermit was lonely, names it Constantine after Muppets Most Wanted, then realizes that they’re gay for each other. Wonders if the rainbow-colored rocks he got them triggered anything

Swings dramatically between calling Alfred every single day and ghosting him for weeks, cries when he realizes what he did

“Accidentally” joins the student body council, doesn’t know what he’s doing, gets re-elected anyway

Molds a dragon out of Laffy Taffy instead of doing his work

Bruce: *joins Honors, gets all A’s, takes the max amount of classes, has several minors, overachieves* Also Bruce: I’m a failure.

Breaks into a building after hours to study because NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AT THE LIBRARY

Bruce: I will not get seasonal depression this year. Bruce: *gets real and seasonal depression that year*

Meticulously schedules his day with a color-coded planner because if he sits down for too long, the thoughts will consume him

Gives a presentation to his rhetoric class on how much he likes Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse (it is 20 minutes long)

Successfully allocates funding from the student body council to pay for free feminine products in the dorms OUT OF SPITE because someone said it couldn't be done. fuck you, Andrew

Bruce: It is not an all-nighter if I go to sleep before my first class. Friend: It is 7:30am, the sun is in the sky, and your first class is at 12:30. Bruce: But I am getting sleep.

Refuses to go anywhere without his backpack because what if he needs three notebooks at once

Loses over 20 pounds because ✨stress✨ and scares the shit out of Alfred when he comes home for Thanksgiving

Argues with his TA over the one (1) question he got wrong on his Dinosaur exam

Bruce, calling Alfred: Hello father figure. How do I do taxes? Do I have to do them myself? Also, I think I’m having a panic attack.

Joins in on a charity arts-and-crafts project that gives kids books with matching activities made by volunteers, proceeds to commandeer the project because “it’s not color-blind friendly” and rewrites the instructions for everyone

Makes a murder wall

Goes to one (1) sports game and proceeds to leave in the first ten minutes because it’s way too loud wtf is wrong with people

Professor, addressing the lecture hall: I dare you to write an essay about these two sentences. Bruce: *writes an essay about six words, gets a 100, never even read the book*

Crawls into the ceiling for some alone time

Ghosts someone after a date because he’s too scared to tell them he didn’t know it was a date in the first place and now he feels bad

Classmate: How tf does he walk across campus that fast? I go in the same direction he does on my bike, and he’s always ahead of me. Bruce: *is gay sprinting to Dinosaur class*

Refuses to let others use his Favorite Pen TM

Constantly gets mistaken for a Grad Student because he is “so wise and mature” (bestie, that’s the autism)

Alfred: *casually mentions he got into a car accident through text* Bruce: *replies with a meme while hyperventilating because he doesn’t know what to do with that information??!*

Wears a suit to one of his finals

Regularly eats non-organic food for the first time in his life, proceeds to learn about several allergies Alfred forgot to mention he has

Writes “What is a Hot Pocket?” in calligraphy and proceeds to laugh his ass off alone in his dorm because he is so exhausted he’s reached the point of delusion

Locks himself out of his dorm right before class, frantically asks the floor group chat if someone can help, proceeds to tell the nice gay man on the floor who saved him “I love you” because his social skills have hit rock bottom

Makes a little music album display next to his desk for his favorite band (Nirvana) His friends call it a shrine, and they are technically correct

Has a blacklist of people he refuses to interact with because Reasons

Counselor: What do you want to do when you graduate? Bruce: *gestures vaguely*

Refuses to take the bus because there are people in there and he doesn’t like those

Loses one of his frogs, how tf did he do that, they’re fully aquatic, oh fuck, this is probably why they got rid of that loophole a year later because unbeknownst to Bruce, he accidentally started a frog revolution in the dorms, btw he SWEARS he did not mean to do that

Has two trash cans in his room: one for the Good Garbage, and one for the Bad Garbage. Only Bruce knows which is which

Bruce: *writes a creative piece about a ship’s final thoughts as it sinks, bringing its passengers down with it* TA: Absolutely lovely, Bruce, but are you okay?

Goes on Night Walks, keeps himself safe by maintaining a level 12 resting bitch face at all times

Earns the nickname “8th floor cryptid” after pacing the halls at 3am when it’s too cold for Night Walks (honestly tho how tf didn’t he get the nickname earlier?)

Bruce: Do you think a depressed person could do this? Bruce: *has a manic episode*

Okay that's all love you BYE

#cryptid Bruce Wayne #college au #does this count if op is the au #fully nocturnal unhinged madman Bruce but make him like 17 and full of crippling separation anxiety and autism #bruce would rather die than inconvenience a professor but hE KNOWS HIS DINOSAURS #Dino class was my fav one in uni hands down #yes i am insane thank you for asking #originally this was just going to be a normal list but I kept taking from my own experience then said “fuck it I'm the captain now”#one of these was a lie tho...the murder wall was third year :/#battinson #bruce wayne #batman #the batman 2022 #batman 2022 #the batman #battinson needs a hug #dc universe #gotham #autistic bruce wayne

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we-do-be-writing · 1 year ago

Text

Taking Care

Sebastian (SDV) x Reader

A/N: I recently got back into Stardew Valley with the 1.6 update and got this dialogue with Sebastian, which gave me many ideas lol. I may end up writing a part 2 to this or just edit this post to add more

Another A/N: Okay, I totally did edit this to add more, and I think I'm going to do it again at some point lol

Last A/N: I did do it again lol, but now I think I've used all my ideas for this story

"What?! Are you kidding me?" You whisper shout, trying to keep Robin from hearing you.

Who knows what she would do if she found out Sebastian went into the caves alone. To be fair, you were about to knock him upside the head when you saw the gash on his arm.

It was gross, to say the least. It traveled up his forearm, the edges where his skin was split looked wilted, and you were surprised you couldn't see bone with how deep it was. Again, it was pretty gnarly.

"Sebastian, that needs to be taken care of; if you get an infection, you could lose your arm."

"That's a bit overdramatic," Sebastian says, "besides, I can't go see Harvey, he'd tell my mom for sure."

"Fine, then I'm going to take care of it."

You don't wait for his protest, grabbing his other arm and leading him to the couch in his room. Luckily for him, you were just on your way to the mines, so you had first aid supplies on hand.

First, you doused the wound with a life elixir, which stung based on the hiss Sebastian let out. Though already his skin was starting to close back together, the wonders of the Valley magic.

"I can't believe you went in there-"

"Hey, I have every right to go in there, same as you." He snapped, cutting you off.

You looked up and saw the harsh glare he was throwing your way, which you were happy to return as you continued...

"Slow down, hot shot. If you'd let me finish, I was going to say, 'I can't believe you went in there without a weapon.'"

"Oh," He mumbles, his eyebrows softening and his lips frowning, "Sorry, I guess I just didn't want a lecture."

"Well, you deserve one," you remark, "but now isn't the time."

"I lost my mace, but I didn't think it would be a big deal to go into the higher levels."

You sigh while grabbing gauze and a bandage to wrap around his arm. Gently, you take his arm in your hands and begin covering the wound.

Sebastian can feel goosebumps rising as he feels your surprisingly soft hands take care of him. He doesn't want to admit it to you yet, but it feels nice to have you there with him, worried about his well-being.

You finish wrapping his arm and look up to see him already gazing down at you. He almost seems to be in a trance, and you can feel yourself following along. Who knows how long you two spend looking at each other, wondering what will come next.

Taking a chance, you cup his hand in yours, drawing circles with your thumb. Slowly, your other hand travels up towards his face. Sebastian lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes, ready for anything.

However, before you can make contact, Robin calls for Sebastian from the stairs, breaking the moment. His eyes snap open and you both jolt away, trying to come back to the present moment.

Quickly, Sebastian pulls his sweatshirt sleeve over the bandaged wound and calls back to his mother, telling her he'll be right there. You both emerge from his room, much to Robin's surprise.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had company." She says, noticing the blush coating yours and Sebastian's face. You can tell she's trying to keep the teasing smile from showing, though she thankfully doesn't ask questions.

"It's alright, I was just leaving anyways." You say hastily, waving goodbye to them both before booking it out of the building.

Before the door closes, you can hear a faint mumble from Robin. Sebastian, in a much louder fashion, tells her to keep her voice down, and you swear you hear him say something akin to "not yet."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been 2 days since you last saw Sebastian, but now it's Friday, and you couldn't miss the weekly hangout with Sam and Abigail. Of course, it's not like you were avoiding Sebastian, but you also weren't sure how to act around him right now.

Usually, you would share everything with Abigail, but you had promised Sebastian that you wouldn't tell anyone that he got hurt. Unfortunately, Abigail isn't one to miss things going on with her best friend, so you had to admit to her that something had happened between you two.

This made tonight particularly anxiety-inducing as you didn't know what to expect when you walked into the saloon. You were the last to join, not unusual with your work on the farm.

The trio is in their usual spots, Seb and Sam playing pool with Abigail sitting on the couch. After saying hello to the others in the saloon, you join them.

Robin tries to slyly give you a thumbs up when you pass by. You and Demetrius furrow your brows in confusion, but you give her a smile and continue on.

"Hey, Y/n!" Abigail calls, waving you over to sit beside her on the couch.

Sebastian was just going to hit the cue ball when he heard your name, causing the pool stick to shake. The cue ball ricochets wildly across the table and Sam laughs at Sebastian's frown.

"Hmm, you seem a little distracted, Seb," Abigail says, "I think it's my turn."

You watch as she gets up and ushers Sebastian out of the way, wanting to pull her back to the seat. The boys share a look of confusion, but Seb moves over to the side with you.

While Sebastian's back is turned to her, Abigail tries to give you a discreet wink, to which you squint your eyes at her.

When he gets to the couches, Seb hesitates whether to join you or sit on the adjacent seat.

Before you can move, he shakes his head a little and plops down beside you, considerably closer than Abby was.

You try to mask the surprise and keep your body from going rigid. Why were you freaking out? He's one of your best friends; it's not like you haven't sat together before.

You pinch the inside of your hand to shake you from your thoughts. Looking over, you see Sebastian's eyes trained on the pool game.

Right as the cue ball cracks against an object ball, you lean closer to his ear and whisper, "How's your arm feeling?"

Seb lets out a shaky breath, something he's been doing a lot with you recently.

"It's good, there's just a scar left." He says, moving to face you and lifting his jacket sleeve just enough for you to see.

He's right, the wound has completely closed, and the scar is faded to a light pink. You feel relief flood your system, not realizing how worried you were about him.

"I'm glad." You say softly, going to touch the scar before pausing.

Glancing up, Sebastian gives you a tiny nod, and you watch the goosebumps rise on his arm as you make contact. You gently run your fingers along the mark, making him shiver.

"Does it hurt?" You whisper, lifting your gaze to meet his.

He shakes his head, "Just sensitive."

You cup his arm in your hands, a mimic of what happened 2 days ago in his room. This time, he flips his arm over, bringing his hand to yours, fingers dancing over your palm.

Now it's your turn to have your breath catch, but you don't break the eye contact. Just before Sebastian can lace his fingers through yours, Abigail cheers loudly, causing you two to break away.

Broken from your shared trance once again, you see Robin walk into the room. Sam and Abigail are looking at you both with a raised eyebrow as Sebastian talks to his mother.

"Seems like something that should happen in private," Abigail whispers to you, and you have to fight the blush clawing its way up your neck.

"Seems like something that's never going to happen." You respond. In your defense, it's difficult to think that the universe isn't stopping this for a reason.

Sam shakes his head vigorously, "It will, be patient."

You huff and roll your eyes playfully, kind of, but the conversation is halted when Sebastian returns to the group.

"Guess it's time to go home," Sam says, guiding Abigail to the door of the saloon.

You and Sebastian follow, but he grabs your arm to make you stop once you leave the building.

"Let me walk you home."

Your mouth drops open, but no words come out. He raises an eyebrow slightly, and you snap your mouth shut, giving him a tiny nod.

You both walk side by side until you leave the town center, cross through the area near the bus stop, and onto your farm. Stopping at the porch, Sebastian shuffles and scratches the back of his neck. Giving him a soft smile, you step closer and reach your hand from your side, ghosting your fingers over his.

Another shaky breath, and you make a mental note to ask Harvey to check into that at Sebastian's next check-up. You're brought back to the moment when his hand grabs yours and he pulls you closer.

Gently, his other arm wraps around your waist, and his hand rests on your back. You follow his lead, running your free hand up his chest to the back of his neck.

Feeling your breath hit his lips, Sebastian decides he's done with the waiting, the tension, and the interruptions. He leans down and gives you an intense kiss, if a little sloppy. You can't exactly complain; it's not like there are many people he would be kissing in Pelican Town.

You pull back a little, keeping your lips close to his. When you look, his eyes are still closed, almost as if he is searing this moment in his memory.

Closing your eyes, you do the same, hoping that you both will make many more memories. Who knows how much time passes before you step back. Sebastian's eyes blink open, and you share a smile as your eyes meet again.

"I don't think I ever said thank you for taking care of me."

"I'll always take care of you."

#Sebastian sdv #Stardew Valley #Stardew Valley Imagine #Stardew Valley x Reader #Sebastian SDV x Reader #SDV x Reader #SDV Imagine #SDV Sebastian #Reader Insert #x Reader #Gender Neutral Reader

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ruebossanova · 6 days ago

Text

professor o'connell: the mini series - 1

college prof!billie x student!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: older!billie x younger!reader, slowslowslow burn, eventual smut, college life, hella tension

summary: you never expected your literature professor to be young, sharp-tongued, and devastatingly captivating - but professor eilish is all that and more. between tense lectures, stolen glances, and secrets that linger after class, you find yourself tangled in a dangerous game of curiosity and control. how long can you keep it professional when the air between you burns with something more?

masterlist

————————————————————————————

the hallway smelled like coffee and printer ink. lockers lined the walls even though no one really used them, and the sound of someone's sneakers squeaking across the linoleum echoed faintly. it was too early for anything to feel real, and liora was still half-dreaming when she pushed open the classroom door.

the light was soft inside, filtered through high windows that caught the morning haze. students filled the back rows first—classic. liora drifted somewhere near the middle, dropped her canvas bag beside the chair, and sank into the seat like she'd been holding her breath all morning.

she barely glanced at the front of the room at first, too busy unzipping her hoodie and smoothing out her notebook. then a voice—low, even, and almost too smooth—cut through the sleepy chatter.

"morning, everyone."

liora looked up.

and froze.

the woman at the front of the class wasn't what she expected. not even close.

tall, loose-fitted shirt hanging just right, her dark hair pulled back under a knit beanie like she hadn't tried at all and still managed to look—cool. cool in a way that made your chest tighten. her eyes, pale and unreadable, swept the room with a kind of calm confidence that didn't ask for attention but got it anyway.

professor o'connell.

liora didn't breathe until billie looked away.

billie set her laptop down on the desk and clicked something open on the screen. the soft tap of keys echoed, then stopped. she glanced up.

"so," she said, voice light but clear, "i'm professor o'connell. billie's fine, too, if that's more comfortable. i teach this course in creative composition and lyrical analysis—basically, it's english lit, but with more music and fewer essays you'll want to set on fire."

a few people chuckled, sleep still hanging off their voices. liora's stomach twisted. she didn't laugh, but her mouth tugged at the corner like it wanted to.

billie's eyes drifted back to the roster on her screen.

"let me just get a sense of who's here," she murmured, then started reading names.

"elliot abram?"

"here."

"cassidy baines?"

"present."

"liora... rai?"

"i'm here"

billie nodded slowly, her gaze lingering just a moment too long. "beautiful name," she said, like it meant something. "thank you."

liora stared down at her notebook. the top of the page blurred slightly before she forced herself to breathe again.

billie continued reading names, but the heat in liora's cheeks didn't go away. her full name never rolled off anyone's tongue like that—never without hesitation, never with intention.

when roll was done, billie leaned against the desk, her arms folded. "okay. i don't like icebreakers. they're awkward and fake and you all secretly hate them."

a few students laughed—this time, liora included.

"but i do want to know who you are. not in the cheesy way. in the why-are-you-here way."

she pushed her hair behind one ear and nodded toward the board.

"your first assignment's simple. it's not graded. i just want you to write a page about this question—what does music say that words can't?"

the room quieted.

billie continued, soft and serious now. "i don't care if you've never written anything in your life. this isn't about being good. it's about being honest."

someone raised their hand in the back. "can we write lyrics?"

"you can write in blood, for all i care," billie said, and a few students laughed again. "just don't be boring. if you're boring, i'll know."

her eyes flicked back to liora—quick, but unmistakable.

liora swallowed.

the lecture started slow.

not boring, just... soft. like billie was setting a mood more than teaching. she talked about metaphor, about musical phrasing as narrative structure, about the way a repeated lyric could punch harder than a paragraph. her voice never rushed, never cracked. she didn't fidget, didn't pace. she just leaned her hip against the desk, fingers tracing the edge of her water bottle like she was thinking out loud to a room full of ghosts.

liora watched her the way someone might watch a fire—entranced without realizing it.

she was used to professors being either stiff or overcompensating. too many tried too hard to prove they had authority. billie didn't do that. she just was. and it did something to the room. made everyone quieter. made the air feel heavier.

"there's something music can do," billie said, tapping the board with a dry erase marker, "that essays can't. it cuts through memory. not around it. through it. the right song doesn't remind you of a moment—it puts you in it. like time travel, but with better lighting."

liora didn't write that down, but she knew she'd remember it anyway.

the girl next to her had started doodling in the margins of her notebook. someone behind her was chewing gum too loudly. the boy by the window kept checking his phone. but liora didn't move. her pencil rested against the page, unmoving.

billie walked to the board and wrote:

"when language fails, music answers."

the chalk squeaked slightly. her handwriting was slanted, imperfect. under the lights, the ink on her exposed wrist caught liora's eye—lyrics tattooed in a fine line script she couldn't read from this far away.

"that's the quote we'll work from next week," billie said. "write it down. argue with it. prove it wrong if you want. just don't ignore it."

liora lowered her gaze. her fingers gripped the pencil. write it down, billie said. like it was just another sentence. like it didn't already live inside her ribs.

billie glanced toward the back row where a group of boys had started whispering. one of them smirked and said something too low for liora to hear, but she caught enough—something about billie's age, the word hot, the phrase bet she's not even a real professor.

billie didn't flinch. she let the silence stretch. then she walked slowly back to her desk, closed her laptop, and looked out across the room.

"if anyone's confused about whether i belong here," she said evenly, "you're welcome to drop this class. i promise your refund window is still open."

quiet.

no one moved.

liora felt something tighten in her chest. not pity. not admiration, either. something in between. like respect, but more personal. she hated the way billie had to defend herself for being young. for being her.

billie's gaze swept the room again, slower this time.

when it landed on liora, it didn't move away.

chairs scraped against tile as the clock hit the hour. papers rustled, bags zipped. the usual chaos of everyone rushing to leave—except for liora.

she moved slower. not on purpose, but something in her refused to follow the current. she tucked her notebook carefully into her bag, slung it over one shoulder, then pretended to fumble with the zipper a second longer than necessary.

billie was still at her desk, sliding her laptop into a worn leather sleeve, fingers moving with practiced ease. her head was tilted slightly, earbuds resting around her neck, a lazy kind of calm on her face that made it impossible to look away.

most of the room had cleared when billie glanced up—and caught her.

"you good?"

liora blinked. "oh—yeah. i just..." she hesitated, then stepped forward. "i had a question. about the assignment."

billie nodded once and leaned her elbow on the desk, fully facing her. "shoot."

liora hated how loud her heart sounded. she tried to ignore it.

"when you said we could write in any form... did you mean, like, lyrics? or poetry? or just... freewriting?"

"any form," billie said. "i meant it."

her voice was gentler now. less classroom, more personal. and now that they were this close—no rows of desks, no audience—liora could see the pale freckles scattered across her cheeks, the faint smudge of eyeliner just barely under her lashes. her eyes weren't just blue. they were gray, soft and stormy, with something behind them liora couldn't name.

"so if it's a poem that doesn't really make sense," liora said slowly, "that's still okay?"

billie tilted her head. "does it make you feel something?"

liora nodded before she could stop herself. "yeah."

"then it makes sense."

the words settled between them like warmth. not cheesy, not condescending—just simple. true.

liora looked down, letting her fingers curl around the strap of her bag.

"what do you usually write?" billie asked.

liora hesitated, then answered honestly. "stuff i never show anyone."

billie smiled—just barely. "those are usually the best kind."

she stepped around the desk then, close enough that liora caught the faint scent of something warm and clean—like sandalwood and fresh laundry. she reached for a printed syllabus on the edge of the table and handed it to her.

their fingers touched. just for a second. but it was enough to send a pulse through liora's spine.

"just in case you didn't grab one," billie said, casual again, but her voice had dipped lower. "i keep forgetting people actually read these."

liora took it with both hands, as if it were heavier than paper.

"thanks," she murmured.

billie gave a nod, slow and deliberate. "see you thursday, rai."

the way she said her name made liora's stomach flip. it wasn't just the pronunciation. it was the intention. like she wanted to say it again. like she liked saying it.

liora turned and walked out, heart pounding behind her ribs like it was trying to outrun her.

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leviruthan · 1 month ago

Note

could you maybe write the dorm leaders with a reader who is just like yashiro nene (tbhk)? :]

dorm leaders with a reader who is like yashiro nene -

who is clumsy, kind-hearted, a bit naive, romantic and dreamy (watched tbhk really long ago so just how I remember nene, only personality tbh appearance not mentioned)

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

riddle is so stressed by you

you're the type of walking disaster who breaks rules without meaning to. but somehow he can’t bring himself to stay mad. i mean if you look at him with those wide pleading eyes what's he supposed to do

your tendency to trip over your own feet remind him of a less disciplined version of himself before he went full rulebook tyrant

you once tripped and spilled tea all over his notes. instead of yelling he just sighed and handed you a napkin then muttered "it’s fine. just… be more careful next time" you try to. at least. even though often showing failure. progress is progress..

thinks it's both admirable and idiotic how you’re always trying to see the good in people, even when they’re being total jerks

he tutors you because your grades are… let’s say a work in progress. he’s strict, but he blushes every time your hands brush while you're studying

you leave little sticky notes with doodled hearts and "you’re doing great, riddle-senpai! :3" on his desk. he keeps them in a secret drawer

lowkey jealous when you gush about other things (like ace’s magic tricks or cater’s selfies) he wants to be the one you gush about. he’d rather die than admit it though

you’re too trusting, and he’s constantly saving you from shady deals (aka azul) or grim’s and ace's bad ideas

"you can’t just give your lunch to a random student because they ‘looked hungry’!" (some savanaclaw student probably) he lectures then makes sure you get a proper meal afterwards

secretly loves how you soften his edges. you once dragged him to a festival while he grumbled about frivolous distractions

he let you put a flower crown on his head. he wore it for the rest of the day on the festival, blushing every time you smiled at him

you’re in the heartslabyul garden, trying to help trim the rosebushes, but you’ve accidentally snipped a flower meant for the queen’s display

riddle’s face is redder than the roses as he marches over, rulebook practically manifesting in his hand

"y/n! rule 249 clearly states-!" he stops mid-sentence when you turn around, holding the ruined rose with a sheepish grin "i’m so sorry, riddle! i thought it looked lonely, so i… uh picked it for you?" you tuck the flower behind his ear, and his brain short-circuits

he’s torn between scolding you and melting into a puddle. "y-you can’t just… do that," he stammers, adjusting his dorm leader sash to hide his blush

you giggle and he swears his heart skips a beat. "i’ll make it up to you! tea party, just us? i will make you a strawberry tart too!" and unless you ask for trey's help it's not going to be good

VIL SCHOENHEIT

vil is your personal fairy godmother but the judgy kind

thinks you're cute but he’s also obsessed with "fixing" you.

he’s always adjusting your posture, critiquing your outfit or spritzing you with some fancy perfume because "a diamond in the rough still needs polish, darling"

you once called him pretty instead of handsome during a film club meeting. he didn’t speak to you for an hour, but you caught him smiling at his reflection later

you bring him homemade snacks (they’re a little lumpy, but you tried) he critiques the presentation but eats them anyway when no one’s looking

he’ll brush your hair back to check your makeup or hold your chin to inspect your skincare routine

you’re obsessed with romance novels, and vil catches you crying over one in the pomefiore lounge. he rolls his eyes but sits beside you, offering a silk handkerchief and a critique of the book’s plot. "if you must indulge in such drivel, at least pick something with substance," he says, but he’s secretly reading it later for research purposes obviously

he admires your optimism, though he’d never admit it because he believes you shouldn't always try to see the good it'll make you a target cause not everyone is nice

you’re always hyping him up, telling him he’s even more beautiful in person than on magicam. he smirks, but his heart does a little flip

he’ll adjust your scarf with a soft "you’re hopeless without me."

he lowkey loves your compliments, especially when you gush about his elegance. you’re his biggest fan, and he thrives on it

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

your naive nature makes you an easy target for his contracts, but somehow you keep slipping through his schemes with your pure luck

though, he’s fascinated by your sincerity. you’ll gush about his new menu at the mostro lounge. he’s doesn't know what he should do between exploiting you someway and just basking in your praise

he teaches you to swim better after you nearly drown in a gym class. he’s smug about it. but he’s also gentle

you leave little seashell trinkets on his desk as thank you gifts. he acts like they’re tacky but displays them proudly in his office

he gets flustered when you call him pretty or hug him impulsively. "y/n, this is a professional establishment!"

you broke a teacup in mostro lounge? that’s a favor you owe him now. but hey look at him with your puppy eyes. give him a hug. you're out of trouble

you’re always daydreaming about some grand romance and azul sees an opportunity. he’ll casually mention how he could "make all your dreams come true" with a sly grin. but then you blush and say, "you already do," he drops whatever he was holding currently

your clumsiness is a problem in the mostro lounge. you’ve broken at least three glasses trying to help out, but azul can’t bring himself to ban you

instead, he assigns you to customer relations (aka smiling at people), which you’re scarily good at

when you once tripped with mocktails crashing to the floor. azul appears in a flash, "y/n, do you know how much those cost?!" he starts

but you’re already on the floor, apologizing profusely with those big, teary eyes

azul just sighs, kneeling to help you clean up. "honestly, you’re more trouble than you’re worth"

but he also knows couldn't trade you for anything

KALIM AL-ASIM

kalim thinks you’re the best

your cheerful vibe matches his energy perfectly. and he’s always dragging you into his wild plans

you're the best duo. and jamil's worst nightmare

you both get into trouble constantly of course

he loves how you never judge his over-the-top ideas. you just nod and go along, even if you end up covered in glitter or lost in the desert

he’s super affectionate, always hugging you or throwing an arm around your shoulders

you make him flower crowns that may not look that great. but he just loves you even tried. and he wears them proudly even during important housewarden meetings

he gets starry-eyed when you talk about your dreams or blush at his compliments. he’s already planning y(our) future wedding in his head

you're a hopeless romantic and he wants to make EVERY single dream of yours come true. believes he is the prince in your fairytale

once told him you dreamed of a prince sweeping you off your feet, and he immediately started planning a grand gesture

you’re too trusting, and kalim’s too nice and kind. together you're disastrous. so you both get scammed sometimes

he’s always giving you little gifts. flowers, jewelry, or just shiny rocks he found- because "they reminded me of you!" you’re his favorite person to spoil

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

leona calls you herbivore like everyone else, but with you, it’s almost affectionate. your clumsy attempts to cheer him up amuse him to no end

you tripped and fell into his nap spot, landing right on his chest. he grumbled but didn’t push you off. just smirked and went back to sleep

he likes how you don’t tiptoe around him like others. you’ll plop down next to him and ramble about your day, and he’ll pretend to ignore you (but he’s listening)

you bring him snacks and he eats them without comment, secretly pleased you thought of him

he’s protective in his own way. someone teases you? they’re getting a glare that could kill. and if they keep it up it will kill

"don’t do anything stupid while I am gone" is a line he often uses, ruffling your hair

you once said you thought he’d make a great king because you were talking about fairytales. and he snorted. "tch, too much work" but he’s lowkey pleased

you’re too trusting, and it makes him protective. you once wandered into a shady part of the savanaclaw dorm, and leona dragged you out before you could get roped into a dumb bet. "stick with me, or you’re gonna get eaten alive," he growls. but who would dare?

it's not unusual for you to trip and leona catches you before you faceplant. "can you he any less careful." he grumbles

you make him cute little things (flower bracelets and stuff) he says why would you even do that but when you put it on him he's not resisting and doesn't take it off

IDIA SHROUD

"thinks a lot" "doesn't think" duo

you’re both disasters in your own ways. him with his social anxiety you with your clumsiness

you bond over late-night gaming sessions. you’re terrible at the controls. but he’s patient, muttering tips while blushing at how close you’re sitting

he’s crushing hard but would rather jump into a virtual void than confess. still he’ll fix your phone or hack your game to give you extra lives. that's flirting if you understand

you watch romance animes together and debate on best ships and troupes

ortho floats in and sighs "please touch grass, both of you."

your trusting nature terrifies him. you once clicked a sketchy link on magicam because it promised free rare gacha pulls, and idia had save your account "you’re gonna give me a heart attack!" he whines, but he’s secretly proud of his save

you once hugged him after he fixed your phone, and he blue-screened for a solid minute

you’re in idia’s room, sprawled on the floor. trying to beat a boss in his favorite game. you’re mashing buttons like a gremlin, and he’s wincing

"y/n, you’re gonna break my controller," he mutters and he leans over, guiding your hands with his own. his hair flickers pink as he realizes how close he is

"u-uh, just… press this one," he stammers. you grin, oblivious to his panic. and cheer happily when you finally win

"idia, you’re a genius!" you tackle-hug him, and he freezes, muttering, “i-it’s just a game…” but he doesn’t push you away

you’re crying over a scene, and idia’s trying to act cool but his hair’s flickering pink

"this is so lame," he mumbles. but when you lean against his shoulder, sniffling, he freezes. "y-you okay?" he stammers. you smile up at with teary-eyes

"you’d totally be the cool loner guy in this anime, idia. too bad he's the second lead. i would have chosen you." his hair flares bright red, and he mumbles, "shut up… but...you’d be the cute main character." you both hide your faces, blushing like idiots in love

MALLEUS DRACONIA

malleus is adores you

you're just so adorable. clumsy, bubbly, innocent, small. your bright energy is like a spark in his shadowy world and he’s quietly smitten

he loves your stories about everyday life. you’ll ramble about dropping your lunch or forgetting homework, and he listens like it’s in the bible

he takes you on midnight walks through diasomnias gardens, showing you glowing flowers or teaching you about gargoyles. you’re too awestruck to notice his lingering gazes

you make him a lumpy friendship bracelet (it barely fits his wrist and looks not appealing enough) he wears it anyway, and sebek yells about "disrespect!" until malleus silences him

he’s possessive in a quiet way. if someone else is hogging your attention, his eyes darken and suddenly there’s a storm brewing outside

you’re not afraid of him (mostly because you’re too oblivious and uh idiotic) and he treasures how you treat him like just another guy

your romantic daydreams make him curious. you once described your ideal date. stargazing, a picnic, maybe a dance. and malleus took mental notes. a week later, he invited you to a "casual" nighttime stroll that was suspiciously close to your dream date

you’re too trusting, and it worries him. you once followed a mysterious light in the woods, thinking it was pretty, and malleus had to pull you back before you wandered into some kind trap

"child of man, you must be more cautious," he says while already casting protective spells around you. although if you're with him he'll let you do anything because he's confident he can protect you

you’re in the diasomnia courtyard, trying to dance with malleus after you heard he’s never tried it. you’re terrible, stepping on his toes, but he just chuckles cause, like your little feet could hurt him. he guides you with a hand on your waist

361 notes · View notes

asterafroditis · 4 months ago

Note

Hey there !

Hope you have a great day/afternoon/night.

I was wondering if you could write how floyd, rook and jamil would react to a reader that is caring and playful but can be stubborn and impulsive when frustrated or angry, acting on her strong will without always thinking ahead.

You can add things if you feel like it too.

Thanks ❤️

𐔌 . ⋮ reckless resolve .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Floyd, Rook, & Jamil x gn! reader (separate)

𓏵 823 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

hope this exactly caters to your request! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Floyd would find your stubbornness hilarious—at least, at first. He’s the type to get a kick out of watching you dig your heels in, especially when you’re arguing with someone. If it’s a harmless situation, he’ll egg you on, adding fuel to the fire just to see how far you’ll go. He might even purposefully annoy you, pushing your buttons until you snap just because he enjoys seeing that spark of determination in your eyes.

But the second your impulsiveness leads to actual trouble? That’s when his amusement shifts to irritation. If you try to pick a fight, rush headfirst into danger, or ignore warnings, Floyd won’t hesitate to physically stop you. He’s freakishly strong, so all it takes is one arm slung around your shoulders—or throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes—to completely ruin whatever reckless plan you had.

Still, Floyd isn’t the type to sit you down for a serious talk. If you’re getting too worked up, he’s more likely to distract you than lecture you, using teasing, nicknames, or even just dragging you away for a "fun detour." But if things get really bad? If you actually get hurt because you weren’t thinking ahead? His usual playful demeanor disappears, replaced by something more dangerous—something angry.

“Ehehe, Shrimpy, you’re real funny when you get all mad like that~ But if you go bitin’ off more than you can chew, I will have to step in, ‘kay?”

"Hah? You’re not listenin’ to me? Fine then~ But don’t start cryin’ when I gotta carry ya outta trouble."

─────────────────────────

Rook adores your fiery spirit. He finds beauty in the way you stand your ground, in the passion that fuels your playful and caring nature. Even when your stubbornness makes you act without thinking, he doesn’t get frustrated—rather, he sees it as another fascinating layer of your character. You remind him of a wild creature, untamed and free, and he takes great delight in observing how you handle challenges.

That being said, Rook is not blind to the dangers of impulsiveness. He knows there are times when acting on raw emotion can backfire, and when that happens, he’s always nearby—watching, waiting. He doesn’t interfere immediately. Instead, he lets you handle things on your own, stepping in only at the last possible moment to prevent catastrophe. And when he does step in, it’s always with an air of effortless grace, as if he had predicted the outcome all along.

Rather than scolding you, Rook prefers to guide you with poetic wisdom and strategic redirection. He won’t tell you outright to stop being reckless, but he will make you think about your choices, presenting them in a way that turns your own stubbornness into a strength rather than a flaw. He enjoys challenging you, pushing you to grow—not by force, but by intrigue.

“Ah, ma chérie/mon chéri, such fire! Such spirit! But do not let your passion burn so brightly that it blinds you to the dangers ahead, non?”

"Do you know what makes a true hunter? Not just passion, but patience. Strategy. Foresight. And you, my dear, have all the makings of a formidable one—if only you learn when to pause and take aim."

─────────────────────────

Jamil finds your impulsiveness exhausting. He’s spent his entire life carefully planning, always thinking two steps ahead, ensuring everything runs smoothly without drawing too much attention. So when he sees you completely disregarding consequences and diving headfirst into trouble? It stresses him out.

At first, he tries to handle it logically. He warns you, explains the risks, tries to reason with you. But the more you brush off his concerns, the more irritated he becomes. Jamil doesn’t like dealing with unnecessary problems, and your recklessness is a perfect recipe for disaster. If you insist on charging forward without thinking, he’ll force you to stop—either by physically restraining you or by outsmarting you so that you have no choice but to listen.

However, deep down, Jamil understands you more than he lets on. There’s a part of him that respects your determination, your strong will—after all, he knows what it’s like to want to break free, to refuse to be controlled. He just wishes you’d be more careful about it. He hates seeing you get hurt, even if he’d never admit how much it bothers him.

"Honestly, do you ever stop to think before jumping into things? …Tch. Fine. If you’re going to be reckless, at least let me make sure you don’t get yourself killed."

“You’re stubborn. I get that. But if you must act on impulse, at least have the sense to cover your own weaknesses. No one’s going to save you if you don’t think ahead.”

214 notes · View notes

trippinsorrows · 2 months ago

Text

lessons in love

authors note: here we are with yet another au...i don't wanna hear it. 😭 friendly reminder that this story is set in 2004, or this is where it's kicking off, at least. thus, some of the dialogue and pop cultural references may read as dated and/or cringe. that's because it is. i'm writing it to reflect the time back then, friends.

faint hint of pride and prejudice as well as the move 'ever after' influences if you turn your head to the side, close one eye, and squint the other.

words: 6k

warnings: angst, violence against women, scenes of abuse. also, roman is a dick. that needs its own tw.

September, 2004

“Naw, you crazy as hell man,” Jey’s voice is much louder than it should be considering where they all are. Not that it makes a difference. The conversation at hand demands to be had, at least, according to the twins. “You’d really choose to bang Melyssa Ford over Esther Baxter?”

At being presented with the question once more, Jimmy sucks his teeth, Naomi, his longtime girlfriend since high school, with one arm over his shoulder, a wry smile on her pretty face. If she’s bothered by the conversation at hand, she’s doing a fine job not showing it, even though Roman knows she’s not. It’s why she’s one of the few people he likes, more tolerates, outside of a select few people. She’s just chill.

“Dawg, have you seen the Big Pimpin video? Thong Song?” Is Jimmy’s rebuttal as he shakes his head, whistling lowly. “That’s a fine ass shawty.”

“Have you seen Esther’s juggs?” Jey shoots back, leaning in his seat, rubbing his hands together. “You trippin, man.”

“Why can’t they both be fine?” Bayley asks, the only one of the group halfway paying attention to the lecture being taught. Roman would also pay attention but not for the fact that he couldn’t give two shits about this class. He’ll do a quick review before the next exam and pass it with flying colors, as per usual.

“Exactly,” Naomi agrees, her brown eyes falling onto him as she lifts her chin. “Roman, what do you think?”

It's an easy question, thus his answer is almost instant, as it came to him the minute the conversation started.

“Why choose one when you can have both?”

His response earns a round of whoops and “ohh’s” that are somehow loud enough to snag the attention of a few nearby students but not the attention of Professor Guerrero. Again, not that he cares.

“You a dog, uce,” Jey laughs, reaching for his hand as they share the secret handshake they’ve had since they were kids. “A straight up dog.”

“Tell me about it,” Bayley mutters, as Roman just smirks and rolls his eyes. He’s always been 50/50 on her. Best friend of Naomi since middle school, her admission into their tight friend group is something he’s always gone back and forth on. Some days she’s tolerable, others, she’s an insufferable, judgmental bitch.

“Babe.”

Roman’s eyes shut.

Speaking of insufferable…

Samantha props herself down in one of the empty seats in the row in front of theirs. The row that’s always kept empty, because it’s a known fact that Roman likes his space. Not to mention his security detail sits not too far, incognito but also not, because everyone knows who Roman Reigns is.

Whether they want to or not.

He sighs, ignoring the snickering of the twins. “What?”

She rolls her eyes, clearly either uncaring or ignorant to the fact that he really doesn’t want to be bothered right now. Or, ever.

“Let’s go out this weekend,” she proposes. Smacking her gum obnoxiously, she twirls her fingers around her chestnut ringlets, Roman’s eyes falling to the beaded, silver Bebe written across the chest part of her sleeveless shirt. Her tits look nice in it. He’ll give her that. Not much else. “I wanna see that new Residential Evil movie that just came out. The one with that girl. Milla Jolly, or something like that.”

“It’s Milla Jovovich,” Bayley corrects, muttering something in Spanish that Roman is pretty sure was an insult. It makes his smirk return just a bit.

“Whatevs,” Samantha scoffs, smacking that damn gum even louder, focusing back on him. “What do you say?”

“I have a game this weekend.”

“Yeah, on Saturday, but what about Sunday.”

“I'm going to Church.”

Jey snorts. “The closest uce ever has and will get to a church was that lil’ preacher kid he was banging junior year.”

Naomi shakes her head. “She was a nice girl, too, until she got caught up with your ass.”

“You know what they say about nice girls,” Jimmy smirks, leaning over to kiss on her neck, prompting Naomi to fight back a smile as she playfully pushes him away.

“Whatever.” Samantha sounds even more annoyed. Good, he thinks. Maybe she’ll leave me the fuck alone.

But, she doesn't, instead crossing her arms. “Roman, I’m really getting tired of this.”

“Tired of what, Sam?” Not that he cares, he really doesn’t, he’s just needing to know what delusion about “them” she’s telling herself this week.

She motions between the two of them with them ugly ass duck nails. “You acting like this with me.”

“How is it any different than he’s ever acted with you?”

Roman has never been one to tell people when they’re right, but Bayley hit the nail on the head. His cold, stoic, almost cruel disposition has been the same since they first started messing around with each other during freshman year of high school. He’s never lied to her about what “they” are. She just hears and believes what she wants. To a detriment.

Samantha turns her glare to Bayley. “Was I talking to you, chica?” The disgust in that final word is enough to get Bayley sitting forward in her chair.

“No, but you’re in my space getting on my nerves, puta.” And without missing a beat, Bayely translates, “that means bitch, bitch.”

Roman readies to tell Samantha to shut the fuck up and go the fuck away when another party enters the space. Another unwelcomed party.

“Excuse me.” Professor Guerrero’s irritating ass voice is added to an already irritating conversation as she stands in the walkaway, arms crossed, the overhead lighting highlighting her thick ass mustache. “Is there something you’d all like to share with the rest of the class?”

Roman sits unbothered, as Naomi, the good girl of the friend group, offers an unnecessary apology. “No, Professor Guerrero. We’re sorry about the noise.”

“Are you?” She challenges, prompting Roman to sigh loudly. “Because it seems all your little group has done in my class this semester is cause disturbance.”

“You still teaching, ain't you?” Roman shoots back in a bored tone, pulling out his Blackberry to check for any unread texts, feeling Samantha’s heated gaze on him. Again though, not that he actually fucking cares. “Can’t be that much of a disturbance.”

Naturally, his smart ass retort earns chuckles from around the room, Jimmy and Jey dapping him up, which only further irritates the professor. “Mr. Reigns, I will not tolerate that kind of flippancy in my classroom.”

“So do something about it,” he challenges, still not matching her fiery gaze. When nothing is said, or done, he scoffs, “exactly.”

Because at the end of the day, she’s not going to do shit. Roman is untouchable, and everyone knows it. Including Vicki Guerrero.

As the noise continues around, she steps closer, leaning far too into Roman’s personal space, earning a vicious glare from the nineteen year-old. “I may not be able to remove you from my class, but I can certainly make this experience as unpleasant as I possibly can for you.”

At that, Roman finally lifts his gaze, voice as nonchalant as the expression on his face. “Good luck with that, Vickie.”

If he didn’t dislike this bitch as much as he does, Roman might be impressed by how she doesn’t back down. But, the hate is too strong for an acknowledgement. She straightens up, clearing her throat, voice projecting, “the next unit will require a semester long project that you all will complete in groups of two. Pairings that I will put together.”

At that, the entire atmosphere shifts, sounds of grumbles and protests. Roman sucks his teeth. He already hates people enough as it is, but to be put in a group with someone he doesn’t know and won’t like is only going to make this wack ass class that much more unbearable.

She walks away, down the steps to head back to the podium, right as Samantha opens her mouth.

Thus, he promptly puts her in and reminds her of her “place” in his life.

“If I’m not filling it, I don’t want to hear it.”

Her cheeks burn bright red from obvious embarrassment as the twins are fight for their life beside him.

“She must really like your ass, Roman, cause ain’t no way…” Naomi trails off, shaking her head.

She might have a point, but also, that’s Samantha’s problem. Not his fault she’s a dumb bitch who can’t accept the fact that he only likes what she can do for him sexually. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“Alright, listen up everyone,” Guerrero starts, and Roman actually pays attention this time, because he has a strong feeling he’s not going to like what she says. At all. “This next unit will be focused on Pride and Prejudice, arguably, one of Jane Austen’s best books.”

“Damn,” Jey curses. “Can’t we just watch the movie?”

“You all will read this book and work together with your partner over the semester to create a presentation touching on a variety of subjects and literary tenets.”

Roman shuts his eyes, already dreading this shit. It’s not that he hates reading. He doesn’t mind it at all. He just hates reading classics. That shit gives him migraines. “Now, the groups will be as follows….”

Naturally, he tunes her out, uncaring about any of the other pairings except the one this bitch has put him in.

“...Jey Uso and Sami Zayn.”

Beside him, Jimmy, Naomi, and Bayley are in fits as Jey angrily throws down his pencil. “The water boy? Man, this some bullshit!”

“Jey!” Sami, the man in question, the actual equiptment manager from their football team, stands from where he sits, turned around and waving wildly like a fucking groupie. “Hey, my dog! We’re partners!”

“I’m about to drop out,” Jey mutters, completely ignoring an ecstatic Sami. “She done put me with fuckin’ ginger Jesus Christ Superstar.”

“Be nice,” Bayley scolds, looking among the guys. “He idolizes you all.”

“And? I ain’t ask for that shit.”

“....Jimmy Uso and AJ Lee.”

At that, Jimmy and Naomi lose all sense of humor, Naomi the first to protest, “oh hell no.”

AJ looks over her shoulder and happily waves to Jimmy, clearly celebrating in her seat. Naomi points to her, while speaking to Jimmy, “she got one goddamn time, and the minute she do some shit I don’t like, I’m beating that ass.”

Naturally, Bayley lifts her hand for a fist-bump, the two in obvious agreement.

Roman chuckles. This’ll certainly be interesting. AJ is known across campus as the psycho/obsessive cheerleader, and for good reason. Her last breakup with some dick from the baseball team resulted in her disappearing all last semester and randomly showing back up for this one like nothing happened. Like everyone doesn't know she had some sort of psychotic break and was in the nuthouse.

How the fuck did she get let back in?

Roman tunes out the sound of Bayley and Naomi now rejoicing as their names were listed together, making them partners. Expected, but also not. Guerrero’s issue has primarily been with Roman and his twin cousins, not necessarily the women.

Sexist bitch.

“....And finally, Roman Reigns and Solana Miller.”

He frowns, intrusive thought/question escaping the confines of his mind.

“Who the fuck is Solana Miller?”

“The Miller's daughter.”

Laughter from not only beside him but the students in hearing distance of Jimmy’s dumbass response, prompting a borderline lethal glare from the young Tribal Chief that has everyone quickly quieting down and the twins coughing.

Still without an answer, Roman sits up in his seat and looks over at the women, knowing if anyone would know, it’s Naomi. “Who is she?”

Naomi opens her mouth, looking around the classroom, moving her head past the bodies up and moving around, familiarizing themselves with their partners. “Umm….” She stops, making a face. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Roman mocks. “Oh, what?”

Discreetly, Naomi points down, Roman following her finger to see it’s landed perfectly on a back. A back that’s draped in an oversized sweatshirt, dark hair pulled back in what he’s pretty sure is considered a “messy” bun. Naturally, her back towards them, he can’t make out a face.

His frown shifting into a scowl. “That her?”

Naomi nods. “She’s also in my math class. I don’t know anything about her. Just that she’s super quiet,” Naomi answers. “Like, I don’t think I’ve ever heard her talk. Here or in math.”

“Damn, you got Helen Keller for a partner.”

“Jimmy!”

“Now that everyone knows who their partner is, make sure to exchange contact information, as you’ll be working together closely for the rest of the semester.” Roman’s dislike for this woman just reached level 10, cause why the fuck would she put him with a mute bitch? “And, I’d highly advise you all to take this project seriously, as it’s worth half your final grade.” She then moves to hand out the packet with all the necessary information to the front row, starting with this Solana person, as it gets passed around to the rest of the class.

“Damn,” Jey groans. “Now, I actually gotta try.”

Roman ignores him as Guerrero goes to dismiss the class, some packing up to leave, others still talking to their partners. He waits until he gets the packet with the project overview, before standing up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Jimmy offers a lazy warning of sorts, as Roman starts to move down the steps. “Don’t be late, or else Coach Booker gon’ have all our asses.”

“I know,” he mutters, seeing Sam stand up out the corner of his eye, clearly hellbent on following him.

“Roman—”

“Fuck off.”

The sound of her scoffing diminishes with each step he takes, and the closer he gets to this girl, the more he realizes just how tiny she is. He practically towers over her.

“Hey.”

She jumps, turning around, unintentionally dropping some of the folders in her hand that she was hurriedly trying to stuff into her backpack. “S–sorry.” Comes a voice that’s quiet and soft, a perfect match for the girl in front of him.

Roman sighs, eyes lifted to the paneled ceiling as she moves to pick up the dropped items. For a second, he considers doing it for her, but she’s fast, already on the move.

“I’m s-sorry.” Another apology as she stands before him, lifting her eyes to his, finally meeting his annoyed gaze.

Huh.

Roman takes a second to take her in. Despite the homeless themed outfit she has going on, baggy ass sweatshirt, sweats, and some creased Nike’s, she’s not ugly. At all. Big, light brown eyes, full lips, her face shape on the rounder side, but it works for her. Makes her look….angelic almost. She’s pretty. He won’t deny that, but everything else though….is annoying.

She’s annoying.

“I—” He sighs, yet again. That damn stammering is irritating as fuck. “I—I don’t—you don’t have to help me, ya’ know.”

At that, he pauses. “What do you mean?”

For whatever reason, her cheeks start to flush red, as she drops her gaze, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I–I can…I can do the project by myself, and just—”

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” He rebuffs, voice harsh and criticizing. “That I can’t do a dumbass book project?”

Her eyes widen, as she shakes her head. “N–no, that—that’s not what I meant.” She winces, voice softening even more, gaze back on the ground. “I’m sorry…”

For the briefest second, he feels something. Something…different at seeing her reaction to his spurning. Something close to…guilt?

Whatever.

He shakes his head, pulling out his phone. “What’s your number?”

The floor, or her sneakers, no longer have her attention. He does. “Wh–what?”

“Your number,” he says it slowly, like talking to a child, lightly shaking the phone in his hand. “So we can work on the project.”

Truth be told, he’d much rather do all the work himself, slap her name on it, and let her have a few talking points during the presentation portion. Or, none. Something tells him that damn stuttering will cause them to get points deducted, and he can’t have that shit.

As long as he’s been in school, he’s always been an A student, and that’s not about to change because of some girl who can’t even maintain eye contact for longer than two minutes.

She opens her mouth. “Umm—” Another push of her hair behind her ear, as she chews down on her bottom lip. He makes and takes note of that. Her lips. They’re even nicer than he realized. “My—my phone isn’t working right now.” His eyes narrow. The change in intonation. Higher. Inconsistent eye contact. She’s lying. “But—” He watches as she turns slightly, not missing the almost wince on her face when she does so.

Huh.

She pulls out a black composition notebook, small hands turning to a blank page as she uses the pen on the table to scribble something down. She rips the page out, turning it over and handing it to him. “That–um–it’s my school email.” He frowns. Email? “It’s—it’s the best way to contact me.”

Maybe, but it’s annoying as fuck. Text would be a lot easier. Hell, even talking on the phone. Nevertheless, while she’s lying about her phone not working currently, he doesn’t believe she just, for whatever reason, doesn’t want him to have her contact info.

Maybe she doesn’t have a phone? He wonders, but regardless, it doesn’t make a difference.

Taking the piece of paper from her, their fingers brush against one another, and he can’t ignore that something. Not a spark. Not anything to write home about. Just…something. She must feel it too, because she quickly retracts her hand, going to return her notebook in her backpack.

“You work?” He asks, folding the paper into a square and shoving it in his back pocket.

He’d ask if she plays any sports or anything, but something tells him he already knows the answer to that.

She nods. “Yeah, umm, Borders.” The bookstore. Of course. “Only—only part time, though. I–I can work around your schedule.”

“Good.” That’d be significantly easier considering he’s almost certain that his is significantly busier than hers. “I’ll email you….” Damn. What was her name again?

“Solana,” she answers for him, a trace of an accent in the middle portion.

“Solana,” he repeats, realizing that it fits her. He doesn’t know how, just that it does.

And then, the faintest hint of a smile. “O–okay.” She looks at him, and he looks back, neither of them saying anything for a solid minute before she opens her mouth, as if preparing to to say something when her gaze fixes on something behind him. “Oh no.” He frowns, turning to see the only thing she could be looking at. The clock.

“I have to go,” she says, clearly in a rush. But, something else. Panicked. She sounds panicked.

“‘I’ll look for your email,” she offers, as he naturally steps to the side, allowing her to pass him. His eyes shut as the scent of her perfume or body spray invades his nostrils. Sweet. Again, it fits her.

Roman says nothing else as she dashes out of the room, clearly late for something.

But, what?

—----------

“You’re late.”

It’s the first—and last—thing Solana wants to hear, but that’s exactly what she’s met with the minute she hops into the passenger seat of her brother’s BMW.

Swallowing, her lips suddenly feel dry, her stomach doing those flips in preparation for what she already knows is coming. “I’m sor—”

Thud.

Her eyes slam shut from the pain that shoots all throughout her head. Pain that’s a result of Wesley slamming it into the windshield. Naturally, she goes to feel for any sort of cut or blood, relieved when her blurry vision reveals blood-free fingers.

“Stupid bitch,” he mutters but says nothing else, just continues to drive them home in silence. Solana curls herself into the corner as much as she can, eager and almost needing to put as much distance between them as possible. Not that it makes a difference.

None of it ever does.

The first thing she notices upon pulling up to the house is the black SUV parked in the driveway along with the two men, large, burly, dressed in black suits in black sunglasses standing near the vehicle. Watching, almost.

It doesn’t necessarily make her take pause, but it does heighten her already shot nerves. Her father is usually temperamental on most days, but that temper only seems heightened on days when he has business meetings. Especially those from home.

“Hurry up,” Wes shoves her from behind, Solana having to catch herself from falling as they walk up and past the men to head into the home. Naturally, she does her best to keep her head down and mouth shut.

It’s just always worked better that way.

However, stepping into the home, dropping her backpack near the door, knowing it's going to be inspected, what she doesn’t expect is the sight of her father standing near the entryway with another man. It’s unexpected, because he usually does his business in his office down the hall. Except, the handshake between them seems to signify the conclusion of business. A deal made.

That helps her anxiety a little bit.

Maybe he won’t be in such a bad mood.

Except, the anxiety that was just settling spikes once more when the man opposite her father turns his attention onto her. He’s about what and what in height and build with her father, barely pushing 6’0, stomach a bit rounded from what she’d guess is a lifestyle full of bad habits and poor decisions. The hair on his head is full and almost certainly a piece. His dark blue eyes pierce into her, his thin lips, surrounded by an unkempt beard and mustache, unsettle her.

He unsettles her.

She drops her gaze to the ground, naturally moving to the side and out of his way as he starts to walk in her direction. She’s prepared for him to pass her up, to ignore her like almost everyone else in her life has outside of when she’s upset them, but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t, because he stops and turns in front of her. His thick, clammy finger moving under her chin and forcing her to look up.

She can only stare back at him, his almost musty body odor invading her senses, the same way his hand on her face violates her personal space.

And, then he smiles, “perfect.”

Frowning, Solana does her best to remain quiet, though her confusion runs abundant as he finally walks out and takes his leave.

What was that about?

However, the slamming of the front door reminds her that a man’s strange gesture to and with her matters little in the face of everything else.

Very little.

“Solana.”

Instantly, she’s straightened, back against the wall behind her. Eyes shut, she swallows, murmuring, “yes, sir?”

Xavier’s intimidating voice and frame move to stand before her, his hands clasped behind his back. “Your brother told me you were late today.”

The tremble in her belly is matched by the falter in her voice. “Y—yes, sir. I—I was.”

“Hmm.”

It takes everything in her to not break down right then and there. “I’m s–sor—”

One minute she’s attempting to plead for mercy, the next her eyes are wide, her fingers grasping the hand around her neck.

Wes’s dark cold eyes bleed into her. “Did he say you could speak?”

No.

Never.

Solana feels her sense of reality draining away when he finally releases his tight grip, her body crumpling to the floor as she coughs violently.

“Where were you?” Xavier asks in a bored tone, completely unaffected or bothered by the scene before him. Not that she expected anything other than indifference, or maybe even excitement.

It’s just always been that way.

Solana sniffles, doing her best to keep the tears at bay. “My—my class ran over.” She’s about to share the portion about the project, but quickly decides against it. He’ll ask questions, questions about her partner, and that’s the last thing she needs. For her father to find out that she’s been assigned to work with Roman Reigns, of all people, for the rest of the semester.

It’s something she’s still trying to sit on.

“I don’t believe you.”

Damning words that can only mean one thing.

“No,” she whispers, eyes widening in horror and terror at what she knows is about to commence. “Pl–please.”

“Wesley,” Xavier’s deep voice cuts through her begging and the sound of her sniffling. “Remind your sister what happens to liars in this house.”

“No, please!” Tears run down her face. There’s no use or even ability to hold them back anymore. She’ll get on her hands and knees to beg, if that’s what it takes. Even if she knows better. Knows that no matter what she says or does, it won’t change the outcome. Won’t change what’s about to happen.

She shouts in pain when Wes grabs her by her hair and begins to drag her away. “Please! I’m sorry! I’m not lying!” Pleads for mercy from men who possess none. Cries that fall on deaf, uncaring ears. Always have.

Always will.

—--------

The water raining down on her body provides the perfect blend and cover for the tears that cascade down her reddened cheeks. Eyes swollen from crying so hard and heavy, Solana hugs herself only to wince from the aches and pain that radiates throughout her body. A body covered in bruises, some new, some old, all holding a story, a tale that tells the story of unimaginable pain and torture.

A story that’s been hers as far back as she can remember. It’s all she knows. If it wasn’t her brother, it was her father, and if wasn’t her father, it was her brother. Though, over the past few years, it’s been more her brother enacting the punishment her father always believes her deserving of.

While he just watches. Watches and ignores her screams and sobs, the way she’s begged for Wesley to stop, for Xavier to help her, only for the brutal beatings to continue, sometimes until she’s rendered unconscious, waking up bloody and bruised hours later.

Like tonight.

Having to drag her battered body into the shower to try to rinse and wash away what can never truly be destroyed. The scars on the outside pale in comparison to the marring etched on the inside. Tattooed onto her soul.

A healing she’ll never be able to attain.

No matter what.

It’s a bit of a wash/rinse/repeat routine. She eventually cleanses her body, hands moving gently over the more tender areas. Pops the Tylenol she keeps in the medicine cabinet in her bathroom and applies the Vicks VapoRub over certain areas. The areas where the rub will make some sort of difference.

Not much.

Nothing ever really does these days.

Stepping out of the bathroom, dressed in the dark blue soffee shorts and thin sleeved camisole, Solana holds onto her side, sore and aching from the brutal kicks Wes delivered. It’s a miracle he didn’t crack one of her ribs.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

Moving into her bedroom, she carefully closes the door behind her, knowing better than to lock it. She learned a long time ago the beating sustained from that kind of disrespect wasn’t worth the false sense of security the action brought. It didn’t make a difference, anyway. One way or another, they’d get to her.

They always have.

She takes a deep breath and rubs at her head, wincing, remembering the impact it made with the car window. A small knot on her scalp. Another reminder of a the never-ending cruelty she’s been subjected to her entire life.

An inescapable hell.

Not wanting to spend too much time dwelling on what she cannot control, Solana walks over to her desk where her desktop sits, the screen already turned on, as she’d hit the on button and started the dial-up before getting in the shower.

Sitting down, her eyes briefly fall to the framed photo that sits beside her computer. Miraculously untouched and unscathed despite countless violent encounters that have taken place in this very space.

A trembling hand lifts to grab the frame she still remembers picking up that day so many years ago. One of the few times they were able to go out together and just have fun. A cheap little $5 frame from Goodwill, purple with colorful, positive words and groovy flowers. In it, one of her favorite photos of the two of them. Her mother’s protective arms wrapped around her, Solana with a toothy smile, beaming up for the photo as Nina kissed her daughter’s cheek.

Solana’s eyes shut. If she tries, really tries, she can still smell the scent of her mother’s perfume. Light and floral. It’s one of the few, positive things she can recall. The sound of Nina Miller’s voice left her years ago, and for every time Solana tries to remember, she’s only met with her mother’s screams and pleads for mercy at the hands of her heartless father.

Similar to her own experiences.

And, if she thinks too hard, then different kinds of memories haunt her. The kind, no matter how hard she’s tried since that day, she can’t seem to fully erase.

“Mommy!” Solana’s tears partially blind her from the horrific sight before her, both a blessing and a curse. A face disfigured, a partially nude body violated, left bloody and broken. An innocent life taken at the hands of evil. “Mommy, please wake up.” A child pleading on ears that will never hear and focused on eyes that will never blink, forever damned to a vacant, lifeless expression.

“Mommy, please don’t leave me.” The cries of an innocent child, clutching and holding onto the limp body of the one person who’s ever loved her, who she’s ever loved. “You said you’d be okay!” She cries, laying her head on the still chest, uncaring of the blood that stains her little hands and body. Uncaring of the heat of the flames around them and the smoke that intrudes her tiny lungs.

Uncaring if it consumes them both.

“I won’t leave you, mommy!” A vow, a promise to stay with her until the end, even if it means the end for two instead of just one.

Solana takes a deep, necessary breath, free hand over her heart, as she reorients herself. Remembers where she is and not where she was, even if some days, it’s hard to tell the difference.

“I miss you, mommy…” She feathers her finger over her mother’s face, choosing to remember her as that, as the happy mother who was delighted at being able to spend the day with her only daughter.

Not the last day she spent with her only daughter.

Swallowing, Solana places the frame back on the desk and refocuses on her monitor, seeing a ‘1’ icon on her AOL email shortcut on the desktop.

It brings up a frown as she navigates to click it, opening her inbox. A tiny gasp leaves her mouth at the unread email and who it’s from.

Shock quickly wearing away, she hits open on the message.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Meeting

Solana,

The sooner we get started on this, the better. I have practice every day essentially, along with a lot of other things, but I have a gap on Wednesdays from 4 to 6. Could you make this work?

Roman

She reads over the email at least two, maybe three, times, still stuck on a couple things, really. The main one being just how this is supposed to work. How she’s supposed to work with Roman Reigns when it’s obvious he already hates her. It’s unsurprising though. It’s a widely known fact that Roman hates most and likes few, the few mostly being his inner circle that’s comprised primarily of his family members.

Beyond that, it confuses her to no end how she’s supposed to act like he’s not who he is. Like, he isn’t the Tribal Chief. Like he isn’t the Head of the Table. Like he isn’t the, for all intents and purposes, the, for lack of better term, king of Kingston.

He runs this whole city, the state, really. And, maybe it’s less him and more his family, more the Bloodline. One of the biggest crime syndicates in this hemisphere. At nineteen, the world is in the palm of his big hands. Everything revolves around him. With just one word, life and death are dependent upon him.

A part of her is intrigued, but a larger part is just terrified. Terrified as to how this is all going to work.

In the moment, she’d told him she could work around his schedule, because that seemed like the smartest thing to do. Solana might live a sheltered life, but she’s not so with her head in the sand that she doesn’t know who Roman Reigns is.

That she doesn’t know if there’s one thing she can do to help herself, it’s to stay on his good side.

Or, whatever less volatile side of him exists.

But, in actuality, working around his schedule would actually be a lot harder than she was thinking in that moment. Because she lives her life based around the schedule of her father and brother, mostly, Wes, as he’s finishing up his last year at Kingston University while she’s just started her first year not only a month and some change ago.

However, it seems like, for once, life is on her side.

Because Wes’s schedule on Wednesdays is pretty booked, resulting in her having nothing to do but hang around campus for a few hours due to his back to back schedule, including an evening class.

It….it should actually work.

Solana moves to type out a response, editing it once, then twice, before hitting send.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Meeting

Roman,

That will work for me.

Thank you.

Solana

Not expecting a response tonight, she moves to shut down her computer and rises up from her chair. But, not before turning to hit the on button for her boombox. Already having memorized the order of tracks on the CD she burned a couple weeks prior, she skips to track 18, music quickly filling the room.

Young girl, don't cry

I'll be right here when your world starts to fall, ooh

Young girl, it's alright

Your tears will dry, you'll soon be free to fly, ooh

Eyes watering from the lyrics that never fail to evoke a visceral, emotional response, she walks over to her bed, powering through her pain as she lifts the mattress up just enough to grab it.

Her diary.

Pink with ballerinas on the cover, it’s the latest addition to her growing collection that fills the bottom of her closet. But, this one, something about this one has quickly risen to the top of her favorites. She knew she had to have it the minute she saw the stack of them pulled out of the box while working inventory a few months back. And when her 18th birthday rolled around this past July, she did just that. Picking up the journal as her sole and only birthday gift.

Solana moves over to her nightstand, grabbing the key taped on the underside. The key needed to unlock said diary. Pen in hand, she slides to the floor, back against the edge of the bed, lyrics continuing to provide a hope she’s not sure she actually believes in anymore.

When you're safe inside your room, you tend to dream

Of a place where nothing's harder than it seems

No one ever wants or bothers to explain

Of the heartache, life can bring and what it means

Her eyes closing, a strong attempt to fake it, to pretend, to briefly try to act like this is temporary. That this life she struggles to call a life is actually hers. That better days are ahead.

That someday, maybe, just maybe, she’ll finally be able to feel it again.

Happy.

That she can be happy.

Unlocking her journal, she moves to an empty page and starts it out the same way she’s started every entry since then. Since that day.

The day she died.

The day they both died, really.

Dear Mom…

#roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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evieelyzabethh · 7 months ago

Note

a college!jayce oneshot would be sooo goood. I love the way u write and the details u add! angsty,fluff,smut i dont mind. Just anything is fine with me 🤞🤞

be warned, this is incredibly self indulgent because I just finished my exams and desperately need to get dicked down by my slightly pervy husband...anyway

collegeau!Jayce is usually the one requesting the rewards for his "hard work", but being the kind, perceptive boyfriend, he has known exactly what you need in these very trying times. When he realized he couldn't talk you down from your all-nighters, he stayed up with you, mini fridge stocked with energy drinks and his coffee machine on stand-by when you got tired of the cold drinks. He's there with you for your hours long library visits, biding his time by making you good luck origami cranes or listening to you teach him the concepts you're studying for practice. If you need silence, he quieter than a mouse, if you need someone to talk to, he's all ears.

By the time his finals are done, yours aren't. There must some cruel force in the universe that mandated not only exams, but papers, projects, and presentations all be placed into your lap with rather constricting due dates and very short turn-around periods. The struggle was manageable enough when you were both going through it, but now that he's reached the end of the tunnel alone, he misses his girlfriend. Now, he sees you eating sleep for dinner and nearly going cross-eyed from the countless hours you've spent going back and forth between your textbook, your laptop, and your notes.

Any word he'd say would be hypocritical. To try and convince you to take it easy and come back to bed would be hilariously insincere considering that the trenches look identical for the both of you. But now his head is clearer, and he's forced to watch your increasingly slouchy posture and hope your poor heart can stomach the insane amounts of caffeine you've ingested in such a short period of time.

Eventually, all the papers have been turned in and he's waiting anxiously for you outside of the lecture hall where your final final just took place, and you look alive for the first time in weeks, but you're still a bit sluggish. Ain't shit funny til those grades populate, so you find it within yourself to smile but there's still a fragile week ahead of you when you really could cry at any given moment if pushed hard enough.

This just won't do, though!!! collegeau!Jayce believes he has thoroughly failed as a boyfriend as he watches you, sprawled out on his bed, some show mindlessly droning on in the background, continuously refreshing your email and course page. So much so, that he plucks the phone right from his hands and throws it into one of his messy drawers. And you try to grab it, though not making it very far as his long strides catch up to you rather quickly and your being hoisted over his shoulders and thrown back onto his bed, exactly where you belong.

See, besides the obvious torture of watching you torture yourself; Jayce has not gotten off in weeks; he would feel guilty if he wasn't able to be there for you because he's too busy jerking off in the bathroom while you're hard at work. So, he was being the good boyfriend, the one who's pleasure is completely derived from your own and he can't even try to make himself feel good if you aren't. But now, the hard times have passed, and he cannot fathom holding off any longer than he already has.

"Jayce-" And thank fuck you decided to wear a skirt today because if he had to fiddle with jeans, he would've lost his damn mind. "Jay, get off." He looks up at you with the biggest, brownest puppy dog eyes you ever did see, hands held where you could see them. "You really want me to stop?" No, of course you don't. "I wanna see if my grades been posted." He rolls his eyes so deeply you'd think he was searching the very wrinkles of his brain for a fuck to give.

His large hands move over your thighs, hypnotizingly playing with the hem of your skirt, the crotch of your terribly thin panties, rubbing his thumb what he's really been craving for the worst part of these past two weeks. "I really don't care." If he weren't so impatient, he would've been smoother. Maybe kissed you until your head got all fuzzy, gave more attention to your tits, maybe he would've bothered to actually remove any of your clothing.

collegeau!Jayce who is just so messy and couldn't be paid to give a shit as he's eating you out through your panties. It catches you by surprise, the voracious way he plunges in, nose knocking at your clothed entrance as he licks and sucks at the growing wet spot forming. You grab at his hair, which only grows his already painfully hard erection. "Ngh.", is all that comes from his mouth. It was initially meant to be some sort of plea, pull it harder, please, but for his request to be heard, he would've had to pull away. He would rather die than do that before you gushed over his tongue.

He's making out with it, aggressive with the way he pushes himself further and further into you and his canines nick at the fabric until it inevitably tears right through. Both of your moan's echo around his walls along with the squeaking of the bed with the sheer force that he ruts his hips into it. "Sometimes, I really think you hate me." The accusation vibrates straight through your pussy, making your body shake before the words even hit your ears. "No -ah, fuck, I don't." He nods into you. "Only explanation for denying me heaven."

collegeau!Jayce who is a munch before all else, his fingers leaving prints on your thighs that are already wrapped tightly around his head, his other hand pressing down on your waist. You had this annoying habit of squirming away from him, cries about it being too much falling on deaf ears. He is a firm believer there is no such thing as too much of a good thing, only people who don't believe they deserve the abundance of good coming to them.

Jayce is that abundance, sucking on your clit until it becomes too much and you shake in his strong hands, your hips fighting against his calm hands that try to rub soothing circles into your skin. "Quit running from it, baby. Jus' want you to feel better. Don't you wanna feel good? Hm?"And the tears eventually start flowing. Your just overwhelmed, you haven't had your brain properly shut off in months. "Jay, too much." But he's not done yet, instead, he tries to indicate through touch what he would whisper in your ear. You can take it. You deserve a little treat, a nice reward. His pretty girl just needs to be loosened up, just needs to think a little less, and as the best boyfriend in the world, he's going to make that happen.

#arcane #arcane x reader #jayce arcane #jayce x reader #arcane fanfic #arcane x you #eviesmadness🪻#jayce smut #arcane smut

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wongyuseokie · 1 year ago

Text

Exile | k.m.g

Summary: You two were high school sweethearts, and your love story was something only found in the scripts of a shitty teenage rom-com, but he was a jock, and you were shy and quiet. It shouldn’t have worked, but somehow it did. Now, fast forward ten years, and things aren’t the same. Your lives aren’t the same; he’s stuck in the past, and you only focus on the future. Neither of you has your priorities straight, and neither realises that your present is a complete and utter mess. You won’t let him go because he’s all you’ve ever known, and he won’t let you go because you’re the only thing right in his life, but will love and high school promises keep you two together?

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut | ♥ completed works

Word Count: 20,221 words

Pairings: Kim Mingyu x Female Reader Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Slice of Life AU! Fluff, Angst, Smut (the holy trinity, if you will)

Content Warnings: Slice of Life AU! (don’t say I didn’t warn you; this won’t be a nice one, or will it hee-hee). Yelling, swearing, crying, arguments. Couples counselling–do note I am not an actual therapist. I just write fiction. Incredibly angsty. Body insecurities and mentions of blood are not much or graphic. Smut Warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do this). Fingering, oral (male and female receiving). Multiple orgasms, squirting, hand jobs. Use of sex toys. Hickies. Dry humping. Mingyu cums in his trousers (but like, what can I say? He’s in love). Shower sex. Authors Note 1: This is a Seventeen rewrite of an old fic of mine, so if it looks familiar, that’s why hehe.

Author’s Note 2: Thank you to my darling @the-boy-meets-evil for beta'ing this despite being so busy. I love you dearly. Part of the Broken Illusions Stories

“Okay, I kept my mouth shut the entire dinner, but honey, this is the fifth time you’ve been back home since you and Mingyu moved in together, and I still see no ring. No signs of a marriage, nothing,” your mother started to say as she sipped her wine, making you groan as you took a large gulp of yours.

“Can we not ruin every trip back home with this?” You moaned, and your mother shrugged.

“I’m ruining nothing, but honey, ten years, and you two still aren’t engaged or together. As a mother, I want to know you have stability,” your mother spoke, looking down at the red-coloured liquid in her glass.

“I don’t need a husband for stability,” you bit back, making your mother raise her brow in disapproval at you with your tone.

“I never said that, but how long do you two just plan on dating? You two have moved in and been together for ten years. Now? Honey, he hasn’t even come back to visit the last two times you came,” your mother continued explaining, making you groan.

“I’m thinking he dodged a bullet,” you mumbled, earning a sigh from your mother.

“Besides, he hasn’t even proposed, so why should I pressure him?” You suggested, and your mother frowned at you.

“You could ask him?” Your mother offered gently, and you sighed deeply.

“Or are you like him? Dragging your feet?” Your mother questioned, and you shrugged.

“We’re comfortable. Why is that not enough for you?” You asked, genuinely wondering why your mother always brought this topic up.

“Is it enough for you? To be comfortable? If that’s what you are willing to settle for, then sure, but my love, comfort is fine, but it’s dangerous. When you’re too comfy in a relationship, you take every second for granted, and you think it’ll last forever, and you get lazy,” your mother lectured, making you roll your eyes at her.

“Can you stop projecting your marriage or failed marriage onto my thriving relationship?” You asked immediately, feeling guilt surge through your veins at your harsh words.

Your mother only ever wanted to help you.

“Mum,” you started to say, stopping when she held a hand up to stop you.

“It’s because of my failed marriage I can spot the warning signs from a mile away. I’m not saying you and Mingyu will be a repeat of what your father and I were, but if you don’t get clarity on where you two stand, you’ll always be in the grey with him,” your mother explained before finishing off her drink.

“I don’t need him to prove anything to me, but when was the last time you spoke about the future?” Your mother asked, and you fumbled to give her an answer and came up blank, making your mother only sigh more.

“Get some rest. You have an early train to catch tomorrow. This is food for thought,” your mother said kindly before standing up to hug you and heading upstairs.

You sighed deeply, took in the night sky, and thought hard.

You and Mingyu stopped discussing the future when he kissed you at sixteen. Sure, you two were young, but you knew in your heart he was the one. But as your relationship progressed, Mingyu seemed to hold onto the past, and anytime the future would come up, he’d change topics and walk away, and if he tried to reminisce, you’d walk away.

You two were in different tenses, but neither of you ever wanted to acknowledge the present.

The present, where the last time you two had a date night was five months ago, and the last time he made love to you—properly, not just a quick fuck or a sloppy blowjob—but the last time he was intimate with you, was also five months ago. The present you and Mingyu shared looked like a foreshadowing of a hollow future. You let out a frustrated groan.

You and Mingyu had to talk if you wanted to save whatever you two had, but why did it feel like a part of you had already let go?

“Sweetie, the wine may have made me too bold, and I apologise for overstepping. Your relationship is none of my business,” your mother apologised for the fifth time that day, and the most recent apology was in the car on the way to the train station.

“It’s fine. I guess you’re not wrong. You did give me a lot to think about. I got defensive because I’ve felt distant from him, we’ve both not had the time, and I guess I felt like you were calling me out when I know that’s not the case,” you admitted, and your mother gave you a soft smile before turning back to look at the road.

“It’s like a bandaid; maybe he feels the same, and a talk will help, but keeping it in your head, where your demons lie, that’s the worst, so just rip it off and let the wound heal with time,” your mother said wisely making you smile.

“If anything goes wrong, I’m always a safe place for you to come home to,” your mother added, and you nodded at her, thanking her profusely as you hugged her goodbye. While you appreciated her offer, you did not want to be back here sobbing and seeking refuge in a week.

You shook your head, trying to free yourself of the thoughts taking over your mind, taunting you, that you and Mingyu were destined to end.

You two would be fine; you both survived high school and university and would continue to do so in the long run, but one question kept plaguing your mind.

Why was the main aim to survive?

Why wasn’t it to rekindle the flame?

Why did it feel so desperate, and why did he feel so far away? ~~ Warning Signs ~~

It felt weird. That’s the first thing you noted the minute you placed your hand on the doorknob of your apartment. You usually didn’t notice such insignificant details, but the doorknob felt cold.

Was it a preemptive sign that you’d be greeted with coldness from Mingyu?

Or was it the frost that had settled over your relationship that made everything you touched feel cold?

You drew in a deep breath for courage, something to face him. You knew him forever and didn’t know where the sudden apprehension came from. Why did it all feel so difficult?

“Baby!” You were greeted with Mingyu yelling. His arms moved to wrap around your waist and carried you as he planted a soft kiss on your lips.

“Missed you,” Mingyu mumbled against your lips, making you smile, but that moment was short-lived when you saw the state of the house.

“What’s wrong? I know I didn’t do anything, considering you just walked in?” Mingyu joked, placing you down on the floor.

“The house is a state. You knew I was coming home today. Why is it such a mess?” You complained, and Mingyu frowned, following you into the living room.

“Why don’t you nap, and I’ll clean up?” Mingyu offered, and you shook your head.

“How would I sleep if you’re cleaning up? It’d be noisy, jeez, Mingyu. You know it’s not rocket science to keep a household together,” you nagged, making him frown at you.

“Why are you like this? You just walked into the house and started bitching, I thought you’d update me about how the trip was, but instead, you’re here kicking up a fuss,” Mingyu threw back, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“A fuss? Mingyu, there’s nothing to update. All I got was the third degree about why my boyfriend of ten years can’t commit to anything more. Coming home, I realised her concerns were warranted because you’re still that kid, Mingyu. You wanted to be composed and strong, but even vocalising a future without him hurt you. You need to grow up because I don’t know how long I can keep doing this,” your voice faltered at your last words.

“Wow, why don’t you tell me how you feel?” Mingyu mocked sarcastically, and you knew what he was doing. He was using his pride to cover his hurt, and you hated this quality of his. It made him annoying and standoffish.

“I’m so over this. When you want to grow up and have a conversation like an adult, find me, but I’m taking a nap, and once I’m done, I’ll clean up; don’t bother helping. I’m used to cleaning up your messes for you,” you spat, knowing your words hit Mingyu hard. There is so much venom lacing your comments, piercing Mingyu’s heart.

“The bedroom, you should sleep in the guest room. It’s a mess in our bedroom,” Mingyu mumbled, and you rolled your eyes at him, scoffing.

“Of course it fucking is. What in this house isn’t a mess?” You asked, making Mingyu look down to the ground. You knew you had gone too far, but you had to make him hear you, and sadly, he only heard you when you were like this.

“Whatever, I’m going to take a nap,” you mumbled, not having the energy to fight any longer as sleep started seeping into your bones.

You awoke a couple feeling extraordinarily guilty and groggy, but Mingyu should have known better. You never needed the house to look perfect, but it should have been clean. Or livable, like adults.

You groaned, deciding to get out of bed and shower before starting the housework. At least it’d wake you up a bit. Since you were in the guestroom, you couldn’t find anything else to wear except one of Mingyu’s oversized shirts, and while you wanted to be petty and not put on anything that resembled him, you knew you were taking it too far.

You sighed, putting on his shirt, smiling at you wrapped up in his clothes, taking in his scent. You never told him, but it always felt like he hugged you tightly, keeping you safe whenever you wore his clothes. They were like a security blanket, one you needed desperately because the owner of the clothes lately gave you no assurance about the relationship.

“Mingyu?” You spoke as you stepped out into the hallway and walked into the living room. It was neat, clean, and tidy, and you immediately felt guilty. Mingyu didn’t deserve your harsh words; he would eventually get the job done, but that’s the problem. It was inevitable, and you didn’t know if you could wait any longer.

You walked towards your shared bedroom to find Mingyu fluffing the pillows and jumping slightly when you touched his back, startling him.

“Sorry, you woke up early, nearly done,” Mingyu rambled, and your heart broke when you heard his voice crack and took in his swollen, red eyes and puffy nose.

“Baby,” you cooed, and Mingyu glared at you, jerking away from your touch.

“Don’t call me that. I’m not a fucking kid,” Mingyu spat as he threw the pillow onto the bed and walked over to his side of the bed and sat down, and you crawled onto the bed and sat between his thighs, making him look at you.

“I’m so sorry, I was frustrated,” you apologised, and Mingyu scoffed.

“You used all my insecurities, our past, and the fights we’ve had against me, and that sucked. You called me a kid. You insinuated that I couldn’t keep a household together when I’ve fought tirelessly for us for the past ten years,” Mingyu exclaimed in annoyance, his words making you snap.

“No, you didn’t fight for us; you fought just to have the idea of us, but you got comfortable, but that’s all you’ve ever done. You’ve never taken the next step,” you cried out, and Mingyu groaned.

“You’re insane. I fought, kept up with your life, adjusted mine, and did all that because I love you, but I don’t know what else to do because clearly, nothing I do is enough for you,” Mingyu answered, his voice getting softer.

“You’re right, you did, but you stopped and got comfortable fuck, Mingyu. I don’t know if you see a future with me. You’ve given me no indication,” you started to say, earning a glare from Mingyu.

“What do you want me to propose?” Mingyu asked, making you glare at him.

“Not like this, and not because I forced you,” you added, and Mingyu groaned, getting off the bed and fiddling around in the drawer next to you.

“I was going to do it tonight,” Mingyu admitted calmly as he tossed a black velvet box onto the bed.

“What?” You asked, and Mingyu rolled his eyes at your confused expression.

“I was going to give you forever tonight, but you never fucking wait, do you? You always rush into the future without caring for what you leave behind. You’ve been five steps ahead of me for so long, and forgive me if I slipped up somewhere along the way, but I got tired of running after you when you’re so ready to let go of me,” Mingyu answered tearfully.

Mingyu plopped down on the bed, his back to you, his head hanging low. You could hear him take in shuddered breaths, and your heart broke because you knew you had hurt him this time.

“Mingyu,” you started to say, moving simultaneously to place a hand on his shoulder, making him look at you with teary eyes as he turned around to sit on the edge of the bed to face you.

“I know I’m not everything you want in a partner. I just thought our love would be stronger. That it would conquer everything, that you’d love me harder than our problems? I know I did, but I guess that’s how immature I am because I guess that’s not reality,” Mingyu lamented, and even though you knew his words could be misconstrued to hurt you, that wasn’t the case. He was thinking out loud.

“Mingyu,” you repeated, making him sigh as he moved back to sit against the headboard, patting the space between his thighs again. This time, you moved to sit between them quickly, your hands moving to pull him into a tight embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled into Mingyu’s hair as you patted his back, moving as he cried into the embrace.

“For what?” Mingyu mumbled, his voice thick with emotion.

“For ruining a proposal?” Mingyu asked, letting out a dry laugh as he pulled away from the embrace, wiping his tears away and staring at you.

“You didn’t. I guess this fight was bound to happen fuck. I knew we were falling apart, but I foolishly thought that if I ignored our problems or loved you harder, then it’d be okay, we’d be okay,” Mingyu admitted, placing a hand on your cheek and wiping away a tear. You hadn’t realised you were crying until he wiped away the tears.

“But I only did one thing. I only ignored our problems, and I know I only ignored you. I love you more than life, but I failed to show you how much, and now I’m hoping that a shiny ring will fix it all, and I know it won’t,” Mingyu continued to speak, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“I’ve used up all my good graces, that I’m sure of, but can we try? One more time? Please? I don’t think I can let you go, not yet. I don’t think I can ever let you go, but if you give me one more chance, my love. I’ll try, and if it’s over, I’ll let you go. Don’t give up on me,” Mingyu begged, and you nodded.

“Mingyu, I’m so sorry. I should have conveyed my feelings to you in a healthier manner instead of simply yelling. Everything I heard from my mum this weekend was in my mind, and I couldn’t get it out. I just kept going over it, again and again, and I hated it, and I guess I just took it out all on you, and I’m so sorry,” you apologised, cradling his face in your hands.

“No, it’s okay. I think we both saw this fight coming. I guess it’s easier to rip off the bandaid?” Mingyu joked, a sad smile adorning his handsome face.

“I just felt so far away from you, so distant, and I guess when everyone questioned me about the integrity of my relationship. It just annoyed me, and instead of talking to you, I lashed out, and I’m sorry for that,” you apologised, meaning every word.

“I love you; I do. I know I haven’t been good at showing it, fuck, our last date was five months ago,” Mingyu started to say, and you knew he’d begin to spiral if you didn’t shut him up in the best way you knew.

“Mingyu,” you said softly, making him look at you as you inched closer and crawled onto his lap, his hands naturally finding your waist.

“We’ll talk, and we’ll be okay,” you encouraged before placing your lips onto his, making him melt into your touch. His hand moved from your waist to rest on the hem of your shit, well, his shirt, but he didn’t care.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groaned as you moved your lips away from his to latch onto his neck, kissing the soft skin, gently nipping it, leaving faint marks, and running your tongue over the spots you bit.

“Baby, if you keep doing that,” Mingyu started to say as you pulled away from his neck to peel the shirt off your body, leaving you in your underwear.

“I know we have a lot to talk about, and sex isn’t going to fix anything, but I do, for once, want to feel close to you again. I want to be loved by you,” you admitted, and Mingyu nodded, understanding what you meant as he got off the bed and peeled off his clothes.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you blurted out, making Mingyu laugh.

“Ten years and you still think I’m hot?” Mingyu asked, and you smiled fondly at him.

“You’re always the most handsome man to me, doesn’t matter how many years,” you admitted, making Mingyu smile at you.

“Lie down on your back, princess. I need to show you just how much I love you,” Mingyu instructed, and you nodded, quickly adjusting yourself until you were lying down on the bed, head on the pillow, making Mingyu grin at you as he crawled between your legs.

Mingyu leaned forward, wrapping his lip around your nipple while his other hand massaged your other breast. Mingyu moved his mouth to your other breast and flicked and licked your nipples until they were hard.

Mingyu gave them a final flick, earning a whimper from you. “Oh, the sounds you make for me. I like them,” Mingyu praised as he reached for your panties. Mingyu pulled them off and threw them across the room. Mingyu rolled his eyes and parted your legs, and placed a soft kiss on your clit, making you buck your hips into his mouth.

Mingyu ran his tongue along your slit. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, interlocking them at your stomach. Mingyu smirked against your pussy, knowing that he could eat you out for ages in this position, and you wouldn’t be able to move, and all you could do was fall apart on his tongue repeatedly.

This is precisely what Mingyu intended to do as he flicked your clit with his tongue, then wrapped his mouth around your clit, his tongue tracing circles along the swollen nub. Mingyu kept licking you, his pace never faltering, and his rhythm never changing.

“Fucking hell,” you moaned as you threw your head back in pleasure.

“So good,” you praised, making Mingyu smirk, continuing his movements, making you shake in his grip.

“Mingyu,” you cried out in pleasure as you fell apart on his tongue, but Mingyu didn’t stop just because you came. He kept going, sucking on your clit as you rode your orgasm on his tongue.

“Fuck, Mingyu,” you whimpered as he kept licking you, you were sure you were wailing, but you didn’t care.

Not when you were on the precipice of your second orgasm. Your second orgasm hit you harder, and your hands moved to his head as you gently pushed his mouth away from your cunt. Mingyu smiled at you, taking in your fucked out expression.

You sat up abruptly, reaching out to touch his hard cock, but Mingyu stopped you.

“Not tonight. I need to feel you, my love,” he said as he took his cock in his hands and moved to line it up along your pussy.

“Fuck,” you gasped out as he entered you. It had been, so you two had sex, so the stretch was a slight shock but one you’d gladly welcome. “Baby, you’re so tight, fuck,” Mingyu hissed as he pushed in further, making you clench around him immediately. You moaned as Mingyu bent down to pull you into a kiss as he started to thrust into you.

You groaned and babbled nonsense as Mingyu pounded into you, moving his hand down to rub your clit as he fucked you.

“Fuck,” you choked out, holding onto his toned arms.

“Cum, pretty girl,” Mingyu encouraged as his fingers moved faster against your clit, making you shake and tighten on his cock.

You held onto his muscular arms, “cum, baby,” Mingyu spoke breathlessly, making you shake and tighten around him. It felt incredible, making Mingyu groan as you came around him.

“Fuck, fuck,” Mingyu chanted as he pounded into you, groaning as he buried his head between your breasts as he came. Mingyu placed a soft kiss on your lips, slowly pulling out of you.

“That was amazing,” you muttered. Mingyu smiled as he laid down next to you and pulled you into his toned chest,

“I’m not saying this to avoid anything, but I know I skipped every step to make things right,” Mingyu said, pulling away gently from you.

“Look, you’ve had a long journey home and a shitty welcome back. I ordered dinner. It should be here soon. Help yourself. Why don’t we chat tomorrow?” Mingyu offered, and you nodded at him.

Mingyu smiled softly as he moved closer to you and kissed your forehead softly.

“We’ll be okay,” he said with a smile, except you didn’t know if you could believe him.

Despite the mind-blowing sex, you had just opened a bandaid that held in ten years of hurt.

Now it was open. You would have to feel every burn and sting before you two could heal, and what if that wound was too far gone to recover?

What if there was no saving you two?

~~ You Were My Crown ~~

“Morning,” you mumbled to Mingyu the following day when he walked into the kitchen, hair wet, fresh out of the shower, handsome as always.

“Hey,” Mingyu replied, walking over to kiss your forehead, smiling fondly at you as he sighed, sitting down on one of the counters by the kitchen island.

“So, I was thinking that after last night, as amazing as it was, we should talk,” Mingyu said, and you pouted, nodding.

While you did want to just bask in the bliss and romance of last night with him, you knew if you kept pushing your feelings down, then there would be no saving you two, so you decided to sit across from him, making him grin as he placed a business card on your lap.

“A divorce attorney? Hate to break to you, but we aren’t married,” you joked as you picked up the card.

“Oh, couples counselling?” You said aloud, reading the card, and Mingyu nodded at you.

“I got this from one of my Hyung. They said that when they were about almost to call it quits with their partner, they went here, and even if it was painful and made them feel vulnerable, it’s the only thing that kept them together,” Mingyu explained, placing a hand on your knee.

“You think we’re that far gone that we need professional help?” You asked with a dry laugh, and Mingyu shrugged.

“I don’t think we’re too far gone, but we’ve been together for so many years that I don’t think it’d be too shocking if we’re both holding in a lot and not being straight up with each other, at times and I don’t want what happened last night to happen again. I don’t want us holding things in and exploding,” Mingyu answered calmly.

“Even if the sex was amazing,” Mingyu added, making you smile at him.

“Okay, shall we sort out an appointment or what?” You asked, making Mingyu smile sheepishly at you.

“I kind of already sorted a slot out for us. They open early. They got us a slot today at 4 pm. Is that okay?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded at him.

“Should I take it as a good sign that you’re so eager to fix us? Or a bad sign that you’re so ready to vent about me?” You joked, making Mingyu pout at you.

“A good sign; I love you so much, and I’ll be damned if I let you go without a fight,” Mingyu answered.

“Let me go?” You repeated.

“I mean if you want out and realise you deserve better after all this, I guess I’ll let you go,” Mingyu mumbled, unable to look at you. His answering, albeit genuine, made you scoff at him.

“Wow, nice to see your resignation already,” you muttered, making Mingyu sigh deeply.

“I’m not giving up, but tell me you don’t already have one foot out the door?” Mingyu asked, making you baulk at him.

“Why would you even think that?” You asked, and Mingyu rolled his eyes at you, letting out a humourless chuckle.

“You weren’t here, but a gift hamper did arrive from your boss, and while I never snoop, the card was stuck on the hamper. It was a card nudging you to take the plunge and be a manager. Across the world. Might I add? When were you going to tell me?” Mingyu asked, and you sighed.

“You said you didn’t want to hear about work at home, remember?” You fired back, and Mingyu groaned.

“I told you that five months ago when I had just lost my job, I wanted you to be able to speak to me. I don’t want surprises like that,” Mingyu gritted, and you sighed.

“So I’m meant to be able to read your mind?” You asked, and Mingyu shook his head.

“It’d be so much easier, wouldn’t it? You never give me a warning ever. You just fucking blindside me, you did this with this apartment, and you did it with this possible promotion,” Mingyu fumed, making you blink at him.

“Look, can we just save this for the therapist?” Mingyu said, inhaling deeply, and you nodded at him, unable to speak.

The apartment? You thought to yourself. Mingyu was elated when you brandished the new keys three years ago. Just how much had he held in, and for how long?

You were ignoring Mingyu for the rest of the day. Even when he came to get you to go to the therapist’s office, you glared at him, ignoring his outstretched hand, walked past him to your car and waited impatiently for him to get in so you could drive to the therapist’s office.

“Can you at least wait for me to put my seatbelt on? Before you start driving?” Mingyu asked sarcastically, annoyance lacing his words.

“Not my fault you’re fucking slow,” you bit back. You weren’t even sure what you were mad about, the fact that the gift ambushed him and didn’t give you a chance to explain. You felt guilty, and instead of speaking to him about that, you thought it’d be best to mask your hurt with insults.

“So, fucking slow,” Mingyu muttered, buckling himself in, and you started to drive once he was safely fastened.

“So, fucking slow, I’m always behind, aren’t I? I never know what you’re up to, or maybe that’s because you’re too fast,” Mingyu spat out in annoyance.

“I waited for you to put your seatbelt on, right?” You retorted weakly, making Mingyu scoff at you.

“That’s the only time you’ve waited for me, and if killing me wasn’t a crime, then I’m sure you would have driven off without a care for me,” Mingyu fumed, making you cower in your seat.

Is that what he thought of you?

You tried not to let it show. You tried not to let the hurt show, but you couldn’t hold it in once you were in the parking lot of the therapist’s office.

“We can get out, you know?” Mingyu sassed, earning a choked sob from you.

“Is that what you think of me? I’m so busy trying to move ahead that I’d leave you for dead?” You asked, staring at Mingyu; your eyes blurred with tears, and your heart ached at Mingyu’s words.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I just fuck. I got frustrated,” Mingyu started to say, earning a glare from you.

“I get frustrated too, and you know, especially with you and our situation, but I have never once wished that you were dead. I wish we’d stop fighting and we were on the same page, sure, but dead? Fuck you, Mingyu,” you cried out, making Mingyu frown as he reached over to undo your seatbelt and pulled you across the console onto his lap.

“I hate that you even could think of that. How could you think I would even want you dead?” You asked, smacking your fists childishly against his chest, making him pout as he took your hands into his.

“I’m sorry, I am. I did misspeak. In some shitty way, I feel like if you do ever leave me, then it sure as shit will feel like death,” Mingyu admitted making you frown.

“Why are you so hell-bent on the idea that I will leave you?” You asked, annoyed at his rhetoric, that you’d leave him.

“I don’t know. After last night, the way you lost it, I don’t blame you, but damn, can you blame me. As I said, the way you reacted last night hurt. While I’m not shocked, I can’t deny that it hurt, but that wasn’t an excuse for what I said,” Mingyu answered, and you nodded at him.

“You’re damn right it wasn’t,” you choked out, making Mingyu smile softly at you.

“How’s this when the therapist asks what my downfalls are? I’ll explain that I’m not great at filtering my thoughts?” Mingyu offered, cradling your face, and you pouted, nodding at him.

“No, that’s unnecessary, just don’t say stupid shit like that,” you pouted, and Mingyu nodded, kissing your lips.

“I won’t, I promise. Now shall we go before someone thinks that we’re fucking in the car?” Mingyu asked, a smile creeping onto his handsome face, and you nodded, giggling at him.

“Would that be so bad?” You teased, and Mingyu smiled as he pulled you in for a kiss.

“No, it wouldn’t, but our appointment is in ten minutes, so shall we?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, placing a final kiss on his lips.

“Let’s go,” Mingyu said, sneaking another kiss as you finally climbed out of the car.

“Please make yourselves comfortable, and Doctor Kwan will be out to see you both in a minute,” the receptionist at the therapist’s office instructed you and Mingyu, and you both nodded before plopping onto the sofa.

“This is so oddly comforting. I mean, the room, I thought it’d be like a doctor’s office, but it has a sofa and tissues and flowers on the wall,” you rambled nervously.

“Yeah, I guess therapists want you to be comfortable, especially when you’re about to be very vulnerable for them,” Mingyu offered lamely, unable to come up with a proper answer. You saw him fidgeting and took his hands in yours.

“Breathe. We’re here to work on ourselves. We’re going to be okay,” you said calmly, not entirely sure if what you said was a lie, but right now, you didn’t care if you had to lie to him. He was too jumpy.

“Mr & Mrs Kim, please accept my apologies. I just wanted to prepare the notes before we begin our session,” Dr. Kwan said as he sat across you two.

“Well, you might want to apologise again. We aren’t married,” Mingyu said with a smile, but his voice had no real humour. You were prepared to ignore Mingyu’s quip until you saw him shoot a glare in your direction.

“Oh, but we would have been, but tell me, Dr Kwan, am I meant to say yes when someone tosses a ring at me?” You shot back, and Mingyu scoffed, letting go of your hand and sinking into the couch.

“We need your help because nothing I do is ever enough for her,” Mingyu spat out, making you groan.

“Well, good to know what I’m walking into, Mr Kim. I should tell you that I most certainly knew you weren’t married. Often, couples hide their pain from their therapists, pretend it’s all good, and then tear each other apart behind closed doors. It was, hmm, call it a trick? This way, I can understand how temperamental and fragile this situation and I can provide and facilitate a safe space for you, too,” Dr Kwan explained, making Mingyu glare at him.

“So, you made me insult my girlfriend for science?” Mingyu mocked, and you sighed.

“No, he just pushed a button that I’d push, and you’d do the same behind closed doors, too, so instead of embarrassing me further, can you please shut up and let him work?” You asked curtly.

“Okay, let me set a few ground rules before I get to work,” Dr Kwan started to say as Mingyu shot you a sad look. You immediately felt bad for snapping at him, but you couldn’t forget how ridiculous he was.

“Y/N, is it okay to address you by your first name?” Dr Kwan asked. You nodded.

“Mr Kim, is it okay to address you as Mingyu?” Dr Kwan asked, looking at Mingyu, and he hummed in response.

“Perfect,” Dr Kwan said, leaning back.

“As I was saying, rules. While I’m giving you guys a safe space to work things through, you must also be committed to ensuring this space stays safe. I appreciate anger, annoyance and frustration, but snarky, underhanded digs will not be tolerated or helped. Telling the other to shut up won’t help either. You can disagree and provide your perspective, but you will not interrupt or ignore each other and talk over one another. Can we agree to that?” Dr Kwan asked, staring at you both, and you nodded immediately.

“Good, now, let’s start. What made you fall in love with Mingyu?” Dr Kwan asked, immediately jumping into the session. You found it a little unorthodox but liked that he didn’t waste time with small talk.

“We started dating in high school, months before graduation. He was a kind guy, and while he could have fit the bill of a stereotypical jock, he didn’t. He was humble, kind and grounded. I guess he was a jock with a heart,” you smiled softly, recalling that Mingyu was indeed just that.

“He and I were paired up for a project, and I guess after we got our grades, I gave him a big hug, and somehow that hug turned into a kiss, and I guess, ten years later, here we are, in therapy,” your sweet tone fading and turning into a biter tone as you looked at the floor.

“See, this is what she does, thinks of something nice and then fucks it up by following it up with some realistic bullshit. You were doing so well just reminiscing, and you couldn’t just stick to it?” Mingyu asked, his voice rising.

“Another rule, no yelling,” Dr Kwan warned, making Mingyu groan.

“She never lets us be happy long enough. She must always bring up something that kills the moment,” Mingyu added bitterly.

“Then why are you with me if I’m such a killjoy?” you taunted, making Mingyu wipe away a tear.

“Because I fucking love you because you’re so amazing and sure you’re persistent. The need to always think about the future is a pain. But I’m okay with it because I assumed I was part of that future, but I’m not sure if I still am recently,” Mingyu mumbled, making you groan.

“You two need to hit reset. There’s a lot here, I want to see you both separately and together, but I need you two to try something for now. Throughout therapy, we will uncover a lot, a lot of love that you two have for each other, but we will also uncover a lot of pain and hurt, and I don’t want either of you not to have a space to cry it out, so can I suggest that for the next three months, we try something?” Dr Kwan offered, and you both nodded.

“Anything to save us,” Mingyu mumbled, and you scooched over closer to him, placing your hand on his thigh, making him smile sweetly at you.

“Ten years is a long time, and sometimes, you become accustomed to each other, which is wonderful, but it also means you hold in a lot. Anger, resentment and hurt, but because you’ve been together so long, you often suppress these emotions and hope they’ll go away, but they don’t. Instead, they linger like bad perfume, and it gets too much, and that’s where you two are now. I can see you are trying your best to hold onto the relationship, but you’re also scared, to be honest, for fear that it’ll go away, so here’s what I suggest,” Dr Kwan explained, pausing to take a sip of his water.

“So, here’s what I propose, separate bedrooms for the next three months. You two can talk and kiss and be cuddly, but no sex because sex, as good as it may be, undoes a lot of the work, so if you two slip up, I won’t be mad, but it’s more work on your end. This process will take a lot out of you both, therapy, and it’s going to be new adjusting to a new dynamic, but it’s to allow you both a safe space to vent and to be you two have been with each other you’ve lost yourselves along the way, it’s time to find what you two are as individuals before you two can be a couple again,”

“We never broke up. You know that, right?” Mingyu said, glaring at Dr. Kwan.

“I’m aware, but you two are also just holding on, and I’m guessing that’s not enough?” Dr Kwan challenged, and Mingyu huffed out.

“So, what we move out? Or one of us does?” Mingyu asked, continuing to glare at Dr. Kwan.

“We have three bedrooms; we can just separate our stuff. We can each move into one of them for now,” you suggested, placing a hand on Mingyu’s thigh and making him look at you with sad eyes.

“I just, I get that this is therapy, but why does it feel like you’re making us break up before we even have a chance,” Mingyu answered sadly, making you smile softly at him.

“I’m telling you two to hit reset. You both need a fresh start, not away from each other, but you two need a break,” Dr Kwan answered softly, and Mingyu sighed, nodding.

“It’s three months, and we will evaluate every week. Is that good?” Dr. Kwan asked, and you nodded, noticing that Mingyu nodded slowly.

“Three months, and we’ll be, okay?” Mingyu asked, turning to face you.

“Yeah, we will,” you answered, unsure if you two would be, but you had to try.

You had to try for him.

For you. ~~ I’m Not Your Problem Anymore ~~

“So, that went well?” Mingyu said slowly, making you roll your eyes at his words as you kept driving.

“The digs, the underhanded comments, you think that went well?” You asked, and Mingyu frowned.

“You weren’t exactly a saint either,” Mingyu mumbled, and you sighed deeply.

“Can we deal with this once we get home? I don’t fancy fighting while I’m driving,” you asked, and Mingyu hummed in response as he stared out the window, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong.

“Talk,” Mingyu practically demanded the minute you shut the front door behind you.

“Why the hell are you speaking to me like that?” You asked, and Mingyu groaned as he kicked off his shoes before sitting on the couch.

“You said some shitty things, and while I admit so did I, you acted like a child,” you started to say, stopping when you saw Mingyu’s hardened expression.

“What is it with you calling me a child? May I remind you that we’re the same age?” Mingyu asked, glaring at you.

“Then act like a fucking adult, you don’t talk, you lash out, and you just hope that love fixes everything, but it doesn’t. It’s not enough to keep two people together when they’re breaking apart,” you exclaimed, frustrated at yourself for being unable to maintain your calm and at him for never being realistic.

“You always said that love will keep us together, that our love was stronger than anything out there. What happened to that girl? What happened to the girl who made wishes upon stars, kissed me goodnight, and hugged me whenever I was down? I fell in love with her,” Mingyu lamented, making your heart drop.

“So, you don’t love me anymore?” You whispered, afraid of his answer.

“I do, my love, but I’m just not sure you do,” Mingyu said, moving to wipe away a tear that fell down your cheek.

“Why do you keep suggesting that?” You asked, shrugging his touch off, making him pout.

“Well, you just moved away from my touch, in general, over, I don’t know, the last two years you’ve been in the future, and you’ve left me in the dust; you left me all alone. I mean, hell, I was the happiest when you told me you wanted to move in with me, but you didn’t even bother asking me to view a place. You just got the keys and showed up at my doorstep. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but it always felt like you’d cut me out of the process whenever you could,” Mingyu explained, his eyes getting glossy.

“I know you wouldn’t intentionally make me feel unwanted, but that’s what it felt like. I felt like an understudy, waiting in the wings for you to consider my opinion,” Mingyu said.

“I didn’t know,” you said lamely, and Mingyu nodded.

“You wouldn’t, I never told you, and you’re not a mind reader, nor do I expect you to be. It would have been nice to know that you still cared for me even if everything went bad. Hell, the night I lost my job, you just kissed me and told me it’d be alright, and I get it, it’s a hard thing to comfort someone about, but my love, you didn’t even try, and granted, I’m sure there have been moments where I haven’t done my bit. Still, we were the couple that annoyed others with how mushy we were and how much we adored each other. Now it just feels like we tolerate each other,” Mingyu finished standing up, and you stood up and reached for his wrist, making him turn around to look at you.

“Can you not walk away?” You asked, not a shred of anger in your voice. You just wanted to hear him.

“I’m not. I am, however, getting some wine because I think we’ll need it,” Mingyu replied, pulling you into his chest and placing the softest kiss on your forehead.

“Okay, so let’s talk,” you said, not wasting a second as Mingyu returned to the couch with two glasses of wine.

“You waste no time, do you?” Mingyu asked, chuckling, and you shrugged.

“I’d rather fix us sooner than later,” you commented, and Mingyu shrugged.

“Don’t good things take time? Besides, this isn’t something you can rush; didn’t you always tell me that patience is a virtue and that all good things take time?” Mingyu mumbled as he sipped his wine, making you glare at him.

“What is with you and reminding me of everything I once did? Is that what you want? The ‘old’ me? The one you fell in love with ten years ago?” You snapped, making Mingyu frown.

“You keep missing the point, I don’t yearn for the ‘old’ you, but I yearn for your love. It just seems like you’re putting up with me. I only remember the ‘old’ you because no matter how much we fought, I at least knew that you loved me,” Mingyu mumbled, making you frown at him.

“Don’t fix it by saying that you love me. I know you do, but I wonder if you’re still in love me because that’s a big difference. I mean, some I know you do, but other days I feel like I’m watching you, unsure if I fit anywhere in your life, but what scares me most is that I’m not so sure I fit in your heart any longer,” Mingyu admitted taking a deep breath, before looking at you with teary eyes.

“Can you tell me when I’ve hurt you? I’m sure it must have been many times with how you feel, but maybe the most recent example?” You asked, unsure how to respond to the fact that Mingyu poured his heart out to you, and all you could do was make him relive a moment where you had hurt him.

“Not hearing about the promotion, that sucked, like I had to find out because of a present. Why didn’t you tell me?” Mingyu asked, nothing but hurt and genuine curiosity etching his features.

“I guess when you told me you didn’t want to hear about work, I just stopped telling you. I didn’t want to make you upset,” you admitted lamely.

“My love, I got over being let go. If I’m not wrong, I said that once, and a month later, I remember being fine and asking you to tell me about work and the hardships or the bad days at work, but you never did. You decided you wouldn’t share that part of your life with me. While I can understand why you thought I would continue holding a grudge, do you think I’d hold it until it broke us in two?” Mingyu asked, and you shrugged.

“Would you have taken the job?” Mingyu asked, and you shrugged.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, and Mingyu nodded at you.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m over it, and if it’s something that’s in the past, I’m okay never to bring it up again,” Mingyu offered, and you smiled at him.

“I’d like that a lot,” you answered.

“I acted out of line with what I said in the car, and you’re right. I did act like a kid at the therapist’s office, but it’s just when it comes to the idea of possibly even losing you? Then my ability to think straight and act rationally goes to shit because there’s nothing rational about love, but you find that balance, and I’m willing to work on myself but wait for me? While I try and catch up?” Mingyu asked, making your lips tremble, and your tears fall.

“I think for so long,” you started to say, pausing to wipe your tears away.

“For so long, I thought you didn’t care. I thought you got comfortable, wanted to leave, or be comfortable enough to stay but not be with me. So I kept pushing on with my life because I didn’t think you wanted me to be in your future,” you admitted, staring into the wine glass.

“Y/N, you and I. I guess we’ve both been living in different tenses. I’ve been too busy reminiscing our past, and you’ve been running into the future. It’s left our present a fucking shit show,” Mingyu observed, making you giggle at his description.

“Let’s try? I want you to have the most amazing future, but can I ask you to slow down? Ever so slightly? To let me find my footing. I want to catch up with you so we can have a future. Together?” Mingyu asked, pulling you closer to him.

“I can, and I’m sorry,” you apologised, and Mingyu shook his head.

“It’s okay, from here on out, what we’ve both done, it’s forgotten and forgiven these next three months. Let us make a real go at this? At fixing us?” Mingyu asked, and you smiled in agreement.

Mingyu grinned, pulling you into the softest kiss ever.

“I know we are meant to separate rooms and all that, but can I just have you in my arms tonight?” Mingyu asked, kissing your forehead, and you nodded at him.

You agreed because you didn’t know what the next three months would bring about, so for tonight, you just wanted to lay in his arms and forget the hurt and the reality because you’d never admit it like Mingyu would. Still, the thought of living in a world where he was no longer yours was enough to make you break your heart into a million pieces.

“We’ll be okay,” you mumbled into Mingyu’s chest as he held you, and he responded with a kiss on your forehead.

You frowned into the embrace. You just hoped it would come true if you said something repeatedly.

If you kept saying that you and Mingyu would be okay, you would be. ~~ Balancing on Breaking Branches ~~

“Moving day, huh?” Mingyu joked, making you grin slightly at him.

“Barely, we’re just diving up rooms and our stuff. It’s just three months,” you answered as you walked over to your closet and mentally sorted out what articles you wanted to take.

“Actually, you can just stay in this room. Besides, I don’t have much stuff anyway, just some clothes and my computer has always been in a separate room,” Mingyu offered, and you smiled at him.

“Thanks, it’d be a nightmare if you made me move all my things out,” you laughed, making Mingyu smile.

“Besides, it’s all temporary, three months, and I’m back to cuddling you every night and sleeping,” Mingyu smiled.

“What are you smiling about?” You asked Mingyu as he grinned to himself, looking around the room.

“Just kind of thinking how we broke into this room and every other room and surface in this apartment,” Mingyu said casually, a blush creeping onto his face as he recalled the memories, making you smile shyly.

“Sex in every corner of the house. I still can’t believe we did it in a storage closet, of all things,” you recalled, smiling but shaking your head at how you and Mingyu had really come through on the idea of breaking into every part of the house.

“But the sex was pretty good, wasn’t it? A tighter space meant that I had to hold you closer to me and fuck you harder,” Mingyu teased, his voice low, dangerous and teasing.

“Mingyu,” you warned, unable to keep the smile off your face, as you moved away from the closet and sat on the bed.

“Besides, I’m just recalling fond memories, especially when we have a sex ban placed on us for three months,” Mingyu explained with a pout, making you smile.

“Anyways, do you know where I keep my phone charger? I usually use yours, so,” Mingyu trailed off, and you nodded at him, knowing that he never bothered because you were always there, and it just wouldn’t be the same for the next three months.

“Yeah, this drawer,” you gestured to the bedside table beside you. Mingyu nodded, rummaging through the drawer, and you noticed he kept searching for a while.

“Did you not find your charger?” You asked, turning to face him, your eyes widening when you saw what he held in his hand.

“Mingyu,” you started to say, making him smirk at you.

“Is that what I think it is?” Mingyu asked, and you groaned, cursing yourself. Mingyu walked over and grabbed the device.

“A vibrator in plain sight?” Mingyu teased.

“Can you give it back?” You groaned, and Mingyu grinned at you.

“Is this the one we bought and took with us on our trip to Bali? Where you couldn’t get enough of me?” You gulped, and you felt your mouth water.

“Not my fault you were shirtless for the entire trip. It’s hard to behave when you look like that,” you huffed out as Mingyu walked back to the bed with the vibrator in his hand.

“So I’m hot?” Mingyu asked with a smirk.

“You know you are,” you mumbled, and you knew you were about to undo all the therapist’s work with your one movement, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Not when Mingyu was looking at you like that, wetting his lips as he caressed the vibrator in his hand.

“Oh, do I?” Mingyu asked, making you glare.

Instead of answering, you grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him into you. Mingyu pulled you into a kiss and pushed you down, one hand moving to your jeans and undoing them.

You kicked off your jeans and panties, and Mingyu’s knuckles met with your wet folds.

“You’re soaking wet,” Mingyu muttered against your lips, and you nodded.

“Wait,” Mingyu instructed as he pulled your shirt off,

“Beautiful,” he praised as he took in your nude state.

“Pretty,” Mingyu muttered, moving his mouth along your body as he ran the vibrator along your folds.

“Fuck,” you hissed as the cold metal touched your swollen cunt. Mingyu pushed two fingers into you and switched on the vibrator. You felt your eyes roll back as he started thrusting his fingers in and out of you. While the vibrator constantly pulsated against your clit.

“Fucking hell,” you groaned, grabbing his muscular forearm.

“Good girl, you take my fingers so well,” Mingyu moaned, praising you as you fell apart under his touch. You let out whimpers, biting your lips to stop yourself from screaming in pleasure.

“Fuck,” you groaned, and Mingyu smirked at you, pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them to his lips.

“Can’t we just, I guess, call that goodbye sex? Or something,” Mingyu asked as he stared at your fucked out expression.

“We could, but I think we need to tell our therapist,” you breathed, making him pout, “as good as that felt, we just took a few steps back,” you added, making Mingyu sigh as he leaned over to kiss you.

“Three months, and we’ll be okay,” Mingyu claimed before placing another kiss on your lips.

“This is just a little mistake. You wanted to honour his wish, but you also knew that lying would do you two no good. No need to tell the therapist,” Mingyu repeated, making you nod slowly at him.

So, you did what was right.

“Okay, Y/N, what you did wasn’t odd or unusual. Maybe couples slip up, especially when it comes to sex and trying not to have it, and I get it. You two have been together for ages. Giving up sex isn’t easy, nor exactly is it meant to be,” Dr Kwan clarified, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were undoing everything.

“You’re human. It’s normal to slip up, but being honest and working from that is important,” Dr Kwan added. You nodded.

“Well, still, I’m sorry,” you apologised, making Mingyu scoff.

“You kissed me; may I remind you that? So, stop acting like you’re wronged or something. You make me sound like a dick,” Mingyu spat out, and you were about to respond when Dr. Kwan cleared his throat, stopping you.

“Well, Mingyu, you might have just given us the material for our first session. When do you two think it all went wrong? Between you both? Mingyu, I’d like to hear from you, and then you, Y/N,” Dr. Kwan suggested.

“Y/N’s been gifted, so good at everything she does, and I guess I’ve gone with the flow, but being an adult in this unforgiving world, that’s not enough. Not even, and it seemed like every time she was successful or achieved something, it made me feel smaller and like I wasn’t enough,” Mingyu rambled, making you look at him.

“I know she never did it on purpose, but that’s how I felt, and I guess I stopped trying to be better for her because it always seemed like she was too far away for me to catch up to, and so I was just happy being in her life, as a spectator,” Mingyu finished letting out a deep exhale.

“I don’t begrudge her for succeeding. I wished that sometimes she could look away from the blinding lights of success to notice me, just for a second at least,” Mingyu added, shrugging.

“Did you ever wish for her success to go away?” Dr. Kwan asked, and Mingyu shook his head.

“Never, I only wished that maybe I could do half of what she did, maybe then I’d be enough for her, but I know that’s not what she ever thought, but I internalised her success as a sign of my failures,” Mingyu answered.

“Y/N, is there anything you’d like to add?” Dr. Kwan asked.

“I don’t know what to say. I didn’t realise he felt like that,” you answered lamely.

You didn’t realise that Mingyu felt the way he did. He was always so guarded with his response and just quiet and silently supported you no matter what you did.

“I never told her to be fair,” Mingyu interjected, and you sighed at him.

“I can’t read your mind. How do you expect me to understand if you don’t tell me something?” You asked, and Mingyu stared at you in disbelief.

“The way I read your mind about a proposal?” Mingyu asked, and you groaned.

“Okay, you two, we need to hit pause. There’s too much here to not cause a massive fight,” Dr. Kwan said, interrupting you two.

“She didn’t even tell me that she got an opportunity for a promotion or anything. She keeps so much to herself and then gets mad when I can’t read her mind,” Mingyu added, and you sat in annoyance, but you stayed quiet, knowing that he wasn’t wrong with his judgements.

“I lost my job five months ago, and since then, she’s never really told me about her success and in her defence, I did tell her not to talk about it, but I know that after a week or so, I told her that it was okay, but she just kept everything to herself,” Mingyu added.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you started to say, turning to face Mingyu.

“I know you said it was okay, but you always put others before you, and I didn’t want to be another reason for you to suppress how you felt,” you explained, placing your hand on his, and he responded in kind, moving his hand to lace them with yours.

“I see that love is not lost between you two. You need to figure out how to communicate. In a relationship as long as yours, it’s easy to assume that the other party knows or should know. Still, the truth is, all the familiarity and knowledge in the world is never enough to predict how humans will behave,” Dr. Kwan said wisely.

“I went to visit my mum; the night before, we had a huge fight which led us here; she kept pushing and asking if something was wrong with us because it had been ten years, and there was no proposal. So, I kept trying to diffuse the situation, but unfortunately, her words sowed a seed of insecurity in me. I lost it and snapped at Mingyu, which caused him to reveal the fact that he was going to, in fact, propose to me that night,” you rambled, explaining what you thought was the final breaking point.

“I see, Y/N. Mingyu, is being married something you two have always wanted to be? Or is that something that you two have never discussed?” Dr. Kwan asked.

“We discussed it, I think, after our first year together. Mingyu brought it up,” you recalled, smiling at you fondly and starting to explain the memory. ~~

Nine years ago

“In my defence, their vows were touching, and that’s why I ended up crying like a baby,” Mingyu defended, making you laugh as you wiped his teary eyes and kissed his red nose.

You both were in the powder room, helping Mingyu look more presentable after he cried his eyes out at your cousin and her husband exchanging their vows.

“But I also started to imagine, what if it was us up there? One day? Look, I always found weddings boring in the past because I was like fuck this. I’m always watching other people find their ‘happily ever after,’ but I have wanted that for us since you came into my life. Our happily ever after,” Mingyu declared, making you smile at him, your eyes holding but love and fondness for your boyfriend.

“Okay, I know we’re only 19 and legit, maybe way too young to decide the future now, but I know this for sure, regardless of when that moment happens. I just know that there is no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with; only you complete me, and a life without you, well shit, that’s just miserable, isn’t it?” Mingyu spoke, making you swoon at him.

“How’d I get so lucky?” You asked as you pulled him into a soft kiss, making him smile into the kiss.

“I think it’s me. I’m the lucky one,” Mingyu mused.

“How about we’re both lucky?” You added, and Mingyu smiled.

“Lucky to have found a love like this; yeah, we’re pretty fucking lucky,” Mingyu agreed as he pulled you into another kiss.

“Huh?” You asked as you felt Mingyu’s fingers on your face and realised he was wiping away your tears.

“It was so much easier, and I just want that back,” you cried, and Mingyu, out of instinct, moved closer, pulling you in closer to him.

“Y/N, you two were younger, and the world is kinder to two kids in love than adults in love. Nothing like taxes, societal expectations, or work threatens the tenderness and beauty of love. Still, with patience and dedication to fix the relationship, you can get through it, and it doesn’t seem like Mingyu wants anything else but the same thing as you,” Dr Kwan explained, making you smile through the tears and placing a kiss to Mingyu’s cheek, making him blush.

“I’ll schedule you two for a week later, but let’s keep up the same routine. No sex and kisses are fine, but keep it to that. When you two filled out the form, I think you mentioned that your first date was at a dive bar? Why don’t you two, over the weekend, go to one, not as a date, but go and maybe rekindle the memories, remind yourselves that the pain of therapy is worth it,” Dr. Kwan suggested, and you both nodded.

“We can do that,” Mingyu answered, and you smiled at him.

Maybe this is why you two needed someone to guide you both through all the pain, and today felt like a breakthrough, and perhaps that’s what you both just needed, someone to help you get through the shitty parts to get to the good part.

You two weren’t broken but bent, and someone needed to straighten you out.

“We can. We can be okay again,” you mumbled, but you knew Mingyu heard it with the way he squeezed your hand softly.

“We will,” he whispered in your ear.

~~ Never Learned to Read My Mind ~~

You and Mingyu really did try hard. The kisses were kept to a minimum, almost so much that Mingyu got frustrated with you. He eventually pouted enough one evening. It ended up in you two having a thirty-minute make-out session.

“We shouldn’t,” you mumbled as you continued to kiss him.

“See, you say that, but you’re kissing me,” Mingyu replied, moving his lips away to speak, only to place them back on yours within a second.

“Mingyu,” you warned, pulling away and making him sigh at you.

“Fine, but can you blame me? This is the first time you and I have spoken and kissed in two weeks, and no, that goodnight kiss three nights ago doesn’t count. I just get that Dr. Kwan said we should try to find ourselves and all that, but it feels like you’re acting like we’ve already broken up or something,” Mingyu admitted, frowning.

“I’m giving us space to grow,” you defended, and Mingyu nodded.

“I get that, but shouldn’t it foster an environment of encouragement? The space you’ve created is cold and uninviting, like hell. Your room door is always closed,” Mingyu added, making you pull away from his touch and sit next to him instead of on him.

“I’m working, Mingyu. I don’t have as much free time as you, so forgive me if I want some peace and quiet while I work,” you sassed, and Mingyu pouted.

“Free time? You mean unemployed?” Mingyu joked, but you glared at him.

“Stop putting words in my mouth. You know that’s not what I meant to say,” you huffed, and Mingyu nodded.

“Okay, forget it. I only say that because I wanted to show you something the other day, and your door was closed,” Mingyu explained, and you nodded at him.

“So, show me now?” You suggested, and Mingyu nodded, pulling up yet another photo he took of a cake that served as inspiration–he’d been taking pictures of cakes, cookies and many other baked goods for the last few months, telling you it was for something unique. Still, to you, it just seemed like he was building up his ‘cakes I like’ Pinterest board.

“See?” Mingyu asked excitedly.

“What am I meant to be seeing? Another cake? All you do is take pictures of the cake. Where is this going?”

“You could have bothered to ask more about it instead of dismissing it entirely. I don’t dismiss things that excite you,” Mingyu mumbled.

“Fine, show me,” you asked, and Mingyu shook his head at you.

“No, because you’re asking because you feel bad, not because you care, forget it. You’re right it’s just cake. How would you notice? How would you notice when you haven’t noticed anything about me in the last few months?” Mingyu spoke, making you groan in frustration.

“Sorry, that was unnecessary. Look after work tomorrow. I made reservations at a dive bar for us, I’ll send you a location, and you can head over after work?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded at him.

“Night,” Mingyu mumbled, kissing your cheek as he got up and sulked as he walked to his room.

You felt terrible. Since when did you stop caring about the little things, especially him? He was always doing much more, but you didn’t know why. It never felt like it was enough for you.

“Hey!” Mingyu greeted you the following evening as you approached him at the dive bar.

“This place is quite nice,” you commented, and Mingyu nodded.

“Are you drinking?” Mingyu asked, and you shook your head.

“I drove here,” you replied, and Mingyu pouted.

“Let me drive and have a drink. I have a scratchy throat, so I can’t really drink,” Mingyu offered, and you looked at him in shock.

“When did you get a cold?” You asked, had you really been so unkind and caring to not even ask your boyfriend if he was unwell.

“Nah, just a tickle, don’t worry, I got meds, and I’m on the mend,” Mingyu added, ushering you away, and you frowned at him but decided against pushing further.

You were glad you were tipsy, but you weren’t exactly happy at the scene unfolding in front of you an hour later.

A random girl decided to approach Mingyu to gush about how handsome he was and how incredible his biceps were and even went so far as to trace his arms, and that was it: you saw red.

You hated how he didn’t stop her, either. Instead, he giggled and flexed a bit more.

“Miss, do you always with other people’s boyfriends?” You spat out, and the girl stepped back in fear upon hearing the venom in your voice.

“No, oh my god, I’m so sorry. You just didn’t look like you were his girlfriend. You just sat there, far away from him, and you two barely spoke, so I thought it was okay to appreciate it, but I’m so sorry,” the girl apologised, but you couldn’t help your anger.

“So even then, you just flirt with anyone you see?” You asked, embarrassing the girl, and Mingyu turned to face you with a hardened expression, apologising to the girl first.

“What the hell was that?” Mingyu

“Home, now,” you answered, and Mingyu sighed as he paid for the bill while you stormed out of the bar.

You stormed into the house, and Mingyu followed you into your room. You saw red. There was no other colour in the world, only red. You couldn’t believe Mingyu giggled and smiled at the girl like he did.

The way he would with you.

“That was so uncalled for,” Mingyu started to say, making you whip your head to look at him. Your eyes were red and watery, and Mingyu immediately wanted to put the fight to bed and hold you in his arms.

Mingyu mentally slapped himself, but all he did was laugh and smile at the girl. She complimented him, and for a second, he lost his mind and indulged because it had been so long since he felt good about himself. So long since someone called him handsome, and hell, you stopped acting like you were interested in him, but it was wrong and stupid, and he caused you to cry.

“Right, me telling a girl to back off my man is wrong and pushing her away was uncalled for? Did you like it then? The way her tits pressed up against your chest. Is that why you didn’t pull away when she wrapped her arm around yours? Would you have backed away if I didn’t push her away, or would you have gone home with her?” You accused, ranting and firing away accusations at Mingyu, who paused to frown at you, but he knew he didn’t have a reason to defend himself.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stop her, but I would have never cheated. I just got caught up in the attention, it has been so long since you ever showed me any affection, and I liked it, thinking that, oh, I don’t know, at least I’m not chopped fucking liver,” Mingyu fired back, making you shrink.

“You couldn’t tell me that? You had to get some leggy chick to get your validation?” You asked, your voice trembling.

“You don’t make it easy to speak to you. You’ve taken this ‘break’ so seriously that I feel like you’re just practising for the real thing. Last week, I got a new cookbook, and. In the past, you’d always be excited to see if I could replicate any recipes, but now? You didn’t even care to see it. I got a new shirt for our date night, and you didn’t compliment me. I’m not saying I need to be coddled, but you act like my presence is a bother, so forgive me if I wanted to seek out someone’s compliments because you know what? I can’t recall the last time you ever said I was good at anything,” Mingyu scoffed, making you standstill.

“You have so many cookbooks; how is it different from the dozens you have? How was I meant to notice just one?” You asked, and Mingyu stared at you.

“That’s not the point. Whenever I want to share anything with you, you act like it’s the biggest inconvenience or you don’t care. Either way, it doesn’t make me feel good about myself,” Mingyu sputtered out, his anger bubbling, and he knew he had to stop this fight before he said something he regretted.

“Look, we’ve both had a lot to drink. Maybe we should talk about this later?” Mingyu offered, as he tried to guide you to the bed, to help you sleep so you wouldn’t continue this drunken rant.

“So, you entertained her because she gave you attention, or was she prettier?” You asked, immediately feeling your eyes well up. You tried not to break in front of him. He was the one flirting with another woman, not you, but you couldn’t help how insecure it all made you.

Was he done with you? Was this his subtle way of telling you he wouldn’t care?

“Hey, no, don’t you dare,” Mingyu interrupted your thoughts as he cradled your face.

“No one is more perfect than you. I’m sorry for giving in to the attention. No matter how bad we are, it’s not an excuse,” Mingyu explained as he wiped away the tears that fell down his face.

“But she noticed what I didn’t. Maybe deep down, that’s all you want, and I wish I were better for you,” you replied tearfully, making Mingyu’s heart ache with how you tore yourself apart.

“Mingyu!” You squeaked when you felt him carry you and sit on the bed.

“Take this off,” you mumbled, pointing to his shirt, and you stared at him for a second as he peeled his shirt off.

You leaned down to kiss his shoulder, then another, until you reached his neck.

“Y/N, baby, you’re drunk,” Mingyu groaned, trying to suppress a moan, hoping his body wouldn’t betray him as he melted under your touch.

“We’ve had sex drunk before. I’m pretty sure our first time was when we were both drunk,” you spoke as you moved to kiss his jaw, making him wrap his arms around your waist.

“Baby,” Mingyu groaned as his hands moved to rest above your ass.

“Hm?” You asked, looking at him, pausing before your lips connected with his.

“Let me show you just how much I love you,” Mingyu said, giving in to your touch as he stood up and swiftly placed you on the bed. Mingyu usually would at least take some time peeling your clothes off, unravelling each bit of your body to him, but he couldn’t wait tonight.

“So fucking pretty,” Mingyu praised as he laid between your thighs, your dripping cunt at his face.

Mingyu slowly moved his finger inside you, “do you want to cum? You’re already clenching my finger so nicely, baby,” Mingyu praised as he rolled his thumb over your clit. You nodded. Mingyu pulled his finger out of you, making you whine.

Mingyu smirked at you before latching his lips onto your clit.

“Fuck,” you moaned at the contact.

“Mingyu, wait, stop,” you said, making him sit up immediately.

“Did I go too far?” Mingyu asked, worrying, lacing his handsome features. You shook your head and moved your foot to his growing bulge.

“Please fuck me, just I need you,” you begged, and Mingyu wasted no time in peeling off his clothes and positioning himself between your legs and pushing into you, making you moan and hiss at the stretch.

Mingyu placed your legs on either side of his shoulder. He pushed in and fucked you hard and deep. His pace was relentless, and you whimpered at his pace.

“Fuck, Y/N, baby, I’m so sorry, but I need to cum,” Mingyu moaned as he pounded into you.

“It’s okay, fuck me, Mingyu.”

Mingyu removed your legs from your shoulder and flipped you onto your hands and knees. He pushed into you, his hands gripping your hips. You nearly collapsed at how deep he was hitting inside you.

“Fuck, more, please. Mingyu.” He bit down on your shoulder then kissed and ran his tongue over the area.

“Fuck, fuck,” Mingyu cursed as he came inside you, moaning as his cum filled you. You felt him flip you over again, his mouth latching onto your cunt again, licking and cleaning you, making you cum again in the process, and you pushed his head away gently as you came again.

“No more baby, too sensitive,” you moaned, making Mingyu smile sweetly as he placed a soft kiss on your trembling pussy.

“Wait, stay, please,” you asked, pouting at him, making him smile.

“I will. I was just going to clean you up properly and give you a shirt. You always get cold after sex,” Mingyu said, making you smile.

“Stay here,” Mingyu said, kissing your forehead as he headed out to grab you a shirt. He returned with a wet towel and gently pressed it against your throbbing pussy, smirking at your reaction.

A few minutes later, you were clean and dressed in one of his shirts.

You were already nodding when Mingyu’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Mingyu moved his hand under your shirt and placed his arm around your waist.

You moaned softly as he drew small circles into your skin. You gently pushed his arm away and turned to bury your face in his chest, making him smile.

“I love you,” Mingyu mumbled, and you weren’t entirely sure if you heard it, but for a while, you didn’t mind falling asleep in his arms, pretending that you two were alright.

~~ I Think I’ve Seen This Film Before ~~

“So, you two had a fight and fixed it with sex,” Dr Kwan summarised, and you and Mingyu looked to the ground.

“Look, we’re barely three months into this, and while I like that you both love each other enough to be intimate, it seems like you use sex as a coping mechanism to put actual issues on the back burner until they inevitably blow up in your face,” Dr Kwan added.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Mingyu defended.

“A series of misunderstandings has brought you two here, and right now, you two are giving in too quickly,” Dr Kwan added.

“Maybe three months is too long. Can we try a month, no intimacy, nothing, please? Then we can revisit this issue?” Dr Kwan suggested, and you both nodded.

“Dr Kwan, can I request one thing, though? Can I ask that my lovely girlfriend and I go for one more date, like a proper one, the way we used to be before we tried the full-on ‘break’ thing?” Mingyu asked, and Dr. Kwan nodded.

“Y/N?” Dr Kwan asked, and you shrugged.

“I don’t see why not,” you answered, making Mingyu smile, and you noticed how his smile reached his eyes for the first time in so long.

“We’re here!” Mingyu announced as he parked the car outside a carnival, helped you out of the car, and held your hand like he always did, complimenting you from home to the carnival gates.

“It’s crazy empty?” You asked him, and he smiled.

“It opens next week, but I pulled a few strings; I wanted to enjoy this with you and only you,” Mingyu admitted, a blush creeping onto his face, making you smile at him.

“Shall we?” He asked you nodded.

He took you to nearly every booth, and with each new game, your smile grew, as did his. You didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with him all over again, but here was proving you wrong.

“Hey, you okay?” Mingyu waved his hand in front of your face. You were both finally back in the car after a night of kisses, jokes and games, and you smiled at him.

“Yeah, just thinking,” you answered.

“About?” Mingyu asked, and you turned to face him,

“I didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with someone again, but tonight, with you. I think I may have just fallen in love with you all over again,” you admitted, making Mingyu smile as he leaned over to pull you into a kiss.

“I love you,” Mingyu said as he pulled away from your lips.

“I love you too,” you answered, making him grin.

“We’re okay, we’ll be okay,” Mingyu assured as he took your hand and drove home.

However, when he said it, you didn’t find any comfort in his words because you knew that you were about to hurt him, not because you wanted to but because you had been reflecting and noticed that all this time.

Mingyu had been bending backwards to become the version of a man you supposedly wanted. Still, all this time, you only complained and poked holes and found flaws; he loved you despite all this. His love for you was too forgiving, too great, and one you didn’t think you deserved any longer.

So you could only do what you did best, and that was to hurt him before he broke himself trying to fix the both of you.

~~ You Were My Crown ~~

Mingyu was fuming. Well, not even raging would do justice to how angry he was. It was almost comical. He thought smoke would come out of his ears like a cartoon character. It would have almost been funny.

Almost.

However, nothing about this moment or the letter in Mingyu’s hand was funny; none of this was funny.

“Hey,” you chirped as you walked into Mingyu’s bedroom. He was late for dinner, and your smile dropped when you saw his face and then recognised the paper in his hand.

“Mingyu,” you started to say and stopped as he held a hand up to stop you.

“Dear Y/N, you’re incredible, and I want you to consider this position again. You have insights that set you apart from everyone else. I think you could do an amazing job helping us set up our offices in Japan,” Mingyu read out the letter, his voice fading into a whisper at the mention of Japan.

“I thought we were past this?” Mingyu asked, and you immediately felt yourself become defensive.

“No, I only said that to calm you down, but Mingyu, this is my career,” you protested, making Mingyu scoff.

“I’d never stop you from pursuing your dreams. I know you’re good at your job. I’d encourage you to take this position, but you lied, and you got this three days before the date night and didn’t bring it up? It fucking hurts, and when I asked you if you were happy, you said yes? But kept this from me? What were you going to do, just fucking pack up and leave me?” Mingyu asked, raising his voice, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t you dare give me an attitude! You hid this from me. Why?” Mingyu asked, tossing the letter onto the floor.

“We can still talk about it, and then we can figure out a way with schedules, and maybe I can save and fly out and visit you,” Mingyu rambled, making you bite your lip as you knew what you were about to say next would break him.

“I accepted the job,” you whispered, but Mingyu heard you clearly. Your voice rang in his ears, four words taunting him, haunting him.

“Mingyu,” you said, trying to approach him, and he moved away from you.

“You did what?” Mingyu asked, not wanting an answer.

“I just didn’t think us doing these three months did us any good, yes we got to get our issues out in the open, but Mingyu, we still broke the main rule, we had sex, we couldn’t be bothered to make it work without fucking,” you defended, each word piercing Mingyu’s heart deeper and deeper.

“Doesn’t the fact we couldn’t stop loving each other show you how tethered we are to one another? How much we need each other?” Mingyu asked, and you shrugged.

“Yes, a crippling need,” you answered, making him breathe deeply, trying to hold back a sob.

“So, you just decided to do what you do best? Hurtle into the future without a fucking care for me? I gave up everything for you to make you happy, and you’re fucking running?” Mingyu taunted, making you snap.

“I never asked you, but you were so fucking stupid to have walked away from friends. Friends who could give you a job or something, and now, you’re here begging me to stay because you didn’t get your shit together,” you spat out, knowing that none of your words held any truth.

Still, you needed him to stop fighting because you weren’t sure if you could anymore.

“You didn’t ask me because I thought it was you and me against the world,” Mingyu yelled.

“Well, it’s not! Grow up! Get a job, plan your future instead of ruining mine just because you don’t have a planned future,” you fumed, stopping yourself, but you knew it was too late.

“No, you’re right. I don’t because I thought you were my future, but now, you’re gone, so I guess you’re right. I don’t have a future, so please leave,” Mingyu asked. You couldn’t help yourself, but you knew if you comforted him now, you’d give in, and you couldn’t.

“Mingyu, this is my apartment, so why don’t you step right out?” You mocked, making Mingyu let out a broken sob.

“I can’t waste my time and cry for you any longer. There’s no more crying that I can do for you,” you added as Mingyu pulled out a suitcase and started to throw his things in.

“You can leave in a week or something. There’s no rush,” you mumbled, feeling nothing but shame and guilt.

“You were my homeland. You were my safe space, and now that you’ve gone and thrown me out, put me in exile, what’s the point? This isn’t my house anyway, and clearly, I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Mingyu answered tearfully as you watched him pack.

You stood and watched him pack and remove the necklace you once gave him and place it on the bedside table.

Mingyu took another look around the room and then wiped his face before grabbing his passport and documents out of a drawer and stuffing them into the suitcase.

“Where will you go?” You asked, and Mingyu shook his head.

“That’s none of your concern, I’ll be fine, but you,” Mingyu paused to steady his voice.

“You’ll be fine, excel at everything, and do so well, my love, shit sorry, Y/N. You’ve always been amazing, so thank you for the last ten years of my life, and oh, when you fall in love again, tell him to be good to you,” Mingyu rambled, pausing to smile at you through his tears.

“But please apologise to that guy because if there’s a weepy guy at your wedding, oh fuck, never mind, why would you invite me. Fuck I’m babbling. You don’t want this. I’ll be on my way,” Mingyu paused his ramble to kiss your forehead.

“Please stay safe,” Mingyu said before practically running out the door. You waited for him to leave until you couldn’t hear his footsteps in the hallway break down.

“Fuck!” You cried out, you felt so much pain engulf you, you felt as if someone had snatched your heart out of your chest, you felt as if you had a thousand cuts all over your body and that each second, someone was pouring salt into every wound.

You didn’t know pain like this. You fell to the floor sobbing, unable to withstand the pain, letting it engulf you. So, you let it. You did this, and you deserved to be hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologised to the empty room. You broke him and yourself, but you weren’t his problem. You lost the right to care when you threw him out.

So, you’d do what you do best, push through, ignore the pain and push into the future because if you ran fast enough, you might forget the present and perhaps the pain wouldn’t catch up to you any longer. 6 Months Later

Your method wasn’t foolproof.

Simply running away from your problems only brought you temporary comfort.

It allowed you to plaster a fake smile and get things done. It brought you false hope when you told your mother that you had let him go.

Your method was like a ticking time bomb. You’d hold off only for so long. You knew your pain and your actions would catch up to you.

Eventually, you took steps to prolong it. You had blocked Mingyu on every possible social media site. You even put all his things in storage and scrubbed the apartment clean, and when you were done, there was no proof that he ever existed in your life.

You acted like he was a ghost because, somehow, it was easier believing that in some twisted way than picking up the phone and apologising or checking in.

It was easier this way. You put a bandaid on a wound that had cut through every part of you, foolishly hoping it’d be enough.

That stupid bandaid got you through your life in Japan. You’d find moments where you’d think of Mingyu, wondering how he’d love certain foods and sights, but you would push any thought of him away, and you were doing a good job.

Until you were going through your things and found a black journal. You were familiar with it the moment you opened the journal. You wished you could have gone back in time and undid everything because opening up the journal made you feel like you just ripped open the bandaid.

It was Mingyu’s journal.

A journal dated the day you two started therapy. You knew it was wrong to read his innermost thoughts, but maybe you’d get closure. So, you got a bottle of wine and began to read.

Most of the entries did nothing but break your heart repeatedly until you came across the last one.

It was dated the night of the date, your last date with him.

“I can’t wait to surprise her tonight. I think we’re going to be okay,” Mingyu wrote.

Your heart stopped.

A surprise, he was planning something that night.

What was it?

You had to find out.

You had planned most of your life down to the last detail, so randomly catching a plane, after calling your boss and randomly quitting, and landing back home after six months felt odd.

This was home, so why did it no longer feel like it? The way you had shut your heart to Mingyu, had this town also shut you out, decided that someone as heartless as you didn’t deserve another chance?

You had unblocked Mingyu on socials in a feeble attempt to try and find him, and you saw that he frequented a bakery often. It was a shot in the dark but your only shot. You hailed a taxi from the airport and gave him the address to the bakery.

You ran into the bakery, huffing as you lugged two suitcases.

“Can I help you, miss?” A beautiful girl asked you, and you stared at her.

“No, but you have a frequent customer, Mingyu?” You asked, causing the lady to laugh.

“Customer, honey, he’s the owner? Do you have an appointment with him, or would you like a consult? He’s got a free evening, so I can pencil you in. Just walk all the way, and when you see a white door with golden roses on it, you’ve found it,” the lady instructed, and you just moved on autopilot as you reached his door.

Your knuckles trembled as they knocked against the door, his door.

“Come in!” A cheery voice you yearned to hear for so long, a voice you missed every day and every night replied.

You pushed the door open and noticed that Mingyu was too busy sketching to look up, and he continued drawing.

“Just take a seat, make yourself comfy. Sorry, just finishing up a sketch,” Mingyu said mindlessly, and you stood still.

Taking him in, his hair was longer, he’d coloured it too, a light brown, and he looked handsome, but also he looked healthy like he was sleeping and resting and happy.

You noted how focused he was on his work. Mingyu was always handsome to you, but even more so when he was doing something he loved.

“Seriously, it’s okay. Make yourself up at home,” Mingyu started to say as he got up from his chair.

“Y/N?” Mingyu asked as he finally noticed you.

“Oh my goodness,” Mingyu broke into a broad smile as he rushed to hug you, and you could feel the tears pooling in your eyes. How could he?

How could he look at you with so much kindness after what you did to him?

“Oh my gosh, how are you? You look well. How’s Japan, and how’s the job?” Mingyu asked a question after making you stare at him.

“I found this,” as you moved away from his embrace, practically slapping the journal against the chest.

“Oh, I’m guessing you read it?” Mingyu asked with a smile.

“What did it mean, the surprise?” You asked, and Mingyu smiled at you.

“Can you spare me some time? I don’t want to have that conversation here, but if you can wait a few minutes, we can return to mine, and I’ll explain every word you read?” Mingyu offered, and you nodded at him.

“Babe!” The same girl from the front desk walked into Mingyu’s office.

Babe?

You felt your blood run cold. It made sense for him if he moved on, but her? The woman who looked like she was everything you weren’t, maybe that’s why he wanted her.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to check what you wanted to do for dinner tonight. If you want, I can make pasta?” She kept speaking, each word twisting the knife in your chest deeper.

“Yuna, this is Y/N, a good friend,” Mingyu introduced, and you forced a smile for her.

That’s all, but what would he introduce you to her? A friend? His ex, the one who broke his heart?

“Oh, you guys were friends in school, right? Nice of you to visit, so I guess raincheck on dinner? Oh, babe, please don’t forget we must go to the dress store. I need you to pick out the suit for the wedding,” Yuna said as she gave him a peck on the cheek, shot you a smile and left the room.

Mingyu had moved on so quickly? A wedding? He waited ten years to propose to you—sort of—but with Yuna, only six months, maybe he wasn’t the problem. You were, you saw her, pretty, friendly, and she seemed to make him smile. Something you failed to do for so long.

So, it made sense that he’d see a future with her and not you.

Mingyu could hear your overthinking, and he wanted nothing more than to comfort you right now, but he’d do it the minute you two were in his house. Alone and in a safe space.

“Shall we?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, following him, not saying a word during the entire car ride back to his apartment and the walk to his apartment.

“I’m going to take a shower and freshen up. If you want, you can use the guest room. I can grab you some clothes,” Mingyu offered, and you followed him into the guest room, not saying a word.

Mingyu poked his head into the bathroom when he noticed you hadn’t emerged in a half-hour. Worried, he entered, and his heart broke when he understood what you were doing.

“Hey, no, stop that,” Mingyu said, poking his head in at first and then entering the bathroom when he understood what was happening.

“Just wanted to see what I was missing,” you admitted, making Mingyu frown as he helped you sit on the countertop. Mingyu grabbed a towel, wet it, and gently wiped your face with it.

“She’s pretty.” You muttered, and Mingyu sighed, placing the towel on the counter.

“She’s got a nice body,” you continued to speak as you were apart. Mingyu stared at you in disbelief, and he hated how you were tearing yourself apart.

“Can you shower? Or manage on your own?” Mingyu asked; he didn’t want to leave you, but he was very aware that you were naked and crying, and he didn’t want to upset you any further.

“I guess you found the one you love, and I’m here like a moron because I thought you still loved me. I selfishly thought you still loved me,” Mingyu shook his head and snapped, and his hands found your face and pulled you in for a kiss. You gently pushed him away.

“Don’t pity me,” you muttered Mingyu glared at you.

“None of this is out of pity.” Mingyu moved his hands to your neck, gently tracing your skin until he reached your lower back and pulled you closer to him.

“I’m going to ask you again; can you manage to shower alone. Or do you need me to help you?” You sighed and pushed your body against him.

“I need you,” you answered. Mingyu nodded before moving away and stripping.

“Fuck, see, you have a nice body,” you said to Mingyu, making him glare at you as he helped you into the shower.

“So do you, and fuck, I’ll be damned if you don’t feel the same by the time I’m done with you,” Mingyu said as he turned on the shower, and you sighed in relief as the warm water poured over you.

Mingyu reached over for the shampoo and moved his hands into your hair. You moaned as he massaged your scalp, and for a second, you stopped thinking about how crap you felt. You allowed Mingyu to wash you, and you were ready to leave the shower when Mingyu gently pushed you against the wall.

Mingyu moved his lips from your forehead until he reached your lips and captured them in a sweet kiss.

One which had you swooning.

It was so soft and yet deliberate. You moaned as you felt him deepen the kiss with his tongue. Mingyu kept kissing you until the need for air became too urgent, and he gently pulled away.

Mingyu moved his lips to your neck, slowly sucking and gently nibbling the skin there. He left a trail of marks on your neck, all shades of purple and pink. Mingyu moved his hands to your breasts, massaging the soft skin, tugging and pinching your nipples, making you moan.

Mingyu pulled away from your body and got down on his knees in front of you. He dove into your cunt, licking your folds, and your hands moved their way into his wet hair.

Mingyu didn’t move a muscle, only his tongue as he glided it up and down your cunt. He moved slightly and pushed his tongue into you, making you gasp in pleasure. Mingyu groaned as he tasted your arousal, pushing his tongue in further. Mingyu moved his tongue back to your clit and flicked the now-engorged nub while pushing two fingers inside you.

You were whimpering and gasping in pleasure as Mingyu fingered you until you came. Mingyu held your thighs in place as he continued to lick you through your orgasm. He was focused on making you cum as many times are he could with his tongue. You shuddered when Mingyu continued, never stopping.

Mingyu moved his hands to grab your ass and pulled your ass cheeks apart, making you groan.

Mingyu’s lips never left your clit. You could only mewl and let out sobs of pleasure as he licked you. You were gasping for air as you reached your second orgasm. Mingyu’s mouth never moved from your clit as he licked you through your orgasm.

Mingyu moved his lips away from your cunt, and moaned when he saw your state.

“You look so fucking good like this, swollen pussy, mouth open. You look gorgeous when you cum,” Mingyu praised, and you clenched your thighs together at his words.

“Turn around, face the wall,” Mingyu instructed, and you weakly turned around as you trembled.

“If anything is too much, tell me, okay?” You mumbled a yes, and Mingyu pushed his fingers into your cunt.

“Good?” You choked out a yes. The new angle with which he entered your cunt had you seeing stars.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” You mumbled as your legs started to shake, Mingyu simply hummed against your wet folds, and that’s all it took for you cum again.

“Please, fuck me,” you begged, and Mingyu slowly got up, held your body close to his, and pulled you in for another kiss; you were so immersed in the kiss that you failed to register him lifting you in his arms and aligning you with his hard cock.

“Can I?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded at him.

“Fucking hell, you’re so tight,” Mingyu groaned as he pushed himself into you and started to pound into your cunt.

“Fucking hell,” you groaned as you bit down on his shoulder as fucked you into your fourth orgasm.

“Fuck, I won’t last long,” Mingyu choked out.

“Cum inside me,” you begged him.

Mingyu smiled at you, “gladly,” he said as he thrust into you harder, making you shake and clench around him each time. You moaned when you felt him finally still and cum inside you, his warmth coating your walls.

Mingyu slowly placed you back down, “fucking hell,” you groaned, grabbing Mingyu’s forearm as he started fingering you hard.

“One more baby, one more,” Mingyu coaxed as he fingered you to another orgasm. You nodded as you felt yourself cum simply based on his command Mingyu didn’t stop until you came again. This time he finally moved his fingers away from your cunt.

You were so fucked out. All you could do was hiss slightly when Mingyu finally washed you up, wrapped you in a towel, and carried you to his bed. He towelled your hair dry, put his shirt on you, and pulled you into his arms, wrapping the blanket over you two.

You turned in his embrace to place your head on his chest, “cuddly,” Mingyu noted with a soft smile on his lips, and you returned a smile back to him, making him bend his head down and capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

You opened your mouth to speak, and Mingyu held a hand out to stop you.

“Tomorrow morning, please,” Mingyu pleaded, and you nodded.

You could do that.

Pretend for one more night. ~~ Second, Third and Hundredth Chances ~~

“Morning,” Mingyu greeted you as you entered the kitchen the following day. He stood by the kitchen island, poured himself a cup of coffee and another one, and pushed it across the island, nudging you to sit and face him after six months.

Six months. That’s how long you went silent on him, blocked him out, and suddenly showed up at his door because of a journal.

All his life, Mingyu knew you as a planner. You always had a backup plan, so for you to show up unannounced seemed so odd. Maybe you were passing by. Or you just wanted the last word, but after six months.

Seeing you again, Mingyu felt pain, anger, and hurt, but more than anything, he still felt love. No matter how badly it ended, you were so much more than his ex-girlfriend. You were the woman he once wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It didn’t matter what would transpire; you would always be unique to him, and he could only hope he held a similar position in your heart.

“So,” Mingyu started to say as you sipped the coffee.

“I made you cheat. I’m so fucking sorry,” you mumbled, making Mingyu laugh.

“Right, I didn’t cheat when I was with you, and that’s not something I’m going just to start doing because I’m with someone who isn’t you,” Mingyu said, and you stared at him, confused.

“But Yuna?” You asked.

“When you threw me out, I couldn’t find a place that late at night, so I ended up at a bar and cried my eyes out to Yuna. She ran the bar that night and felt sorry for me, so she took me home,” Mingyu explained, pausing to gauge your reaction.

Mingyu felt slightly cruel for testing you like this, but with the hell, you put him through for six months, this was nothing, and he wanted to see if you still loved him or just got upset because you thought you had some right to him.

“Yuna and her fiancé, they both, I guess, let me crash and nursed me back that night and just let me mope in their house for a solid month,” Mingyu explained, making you exhale.

“She calls everyone babe and kisses everyone’s cheeks but only kisses her fiancé’s lips,” Mingyu elaborated, making you sigh in relief.

“I think it was month two of moping over you, and I was, you know, useless and jobless,” Mingyu continued to speak, hurting you, knowing that you used the exact words when you broke his heart.

“I was baking a lot, and Yuna’s husband is a famous pastry chef, and he saw me swiping through my Pinterest board and asked if I wanted to do something with my life or just cry over you,” Mingyu chuckled, recalling the memory.

“So, for four months, I poured all my efforts into my craft, and I picked up everything quickly, and I guess I’ve been lucky, and the bakery is doing well and honestly. I thought I was finally moving on, but then, you showed up at the place I created to get away from the hurt you caused me,” Mingyu finished, his tone now serious and stern.

“So why are you here, after all these months, and don’t tell me it’s because of a fucking journal. You wouldn’t randomly get on a flight and show up without a plan, so tell me, did you come here to reopen all the wounds I tried so hard to heal?” Mingyu asked, and you fumbled.

“Do you know what you did to me? That night, you not only assumed that I was an unsupportive boyfriend, but you equated my ability to love you down to the fact that I was unemployed and directionless, and that is fucked up. Like beyond fucked up. So when you threw me out, I honestly believed I was worth nothing. I didn’t think I was enough. While I still want the best for you, you broke me when I needed you most, and seeing you here now, when I’m just getting my shit together, it fucks with me because a part of me wants to kick you out the way you did to me, but a part of me wants to kiss you and try again so tell me Y/N which part should I listen to?” Mingyu fumed, making you cry.

“Why did you do it? Because what we kept breaking the ‘no sex rule’ or did something else happen? After that date, you said you fell in love with me again, and three days later, you did that. Was it because you accepted the job offer and you felt guilty? I know I’m not perfect, but I broke myself trying to be the man you deserved, and it still wasn’t enough, so I think I am at least owed something, some explanation,” Mingyu implored, his voice softer, and you couldn’t stop the tears from escaping.

“Fucking speak, will you? You had no problem tearing me apart, so why are you quiet now?” Mingyu asked, frustrated.

“Because you were bending over backwards, you did so much, and I did nothing. Mingyu, I got mad at you because another girl gave you the attention I didn’t. You were focused on fixing us, and I was focused on just fixing you, and yes, you’re right. The fact that I accepted the job without a second thought for you made me realise what a selfish person I was. I was ashamed, and then you took me out on that date,” you paused to take a breath before continuing.

“I felt like a failure. I failed you because I was so willing to fix us. Still, I didn’t want to go through the pain because I was scared that at the end of it all, you’d realise that you were better off, and I couldn’t deal with that, so I thought it’d be easier if I made you hate me,” you blubbered out, and Mingyu looked at you in disbelief.

“I ran away because it was easier. I took the easy way out because the tables had turned. You were succeeding in fixing us, doing the work, and all I could do was watch you put in so much, never expecting anything in return. I couldn’t do that to you, so I just let you go in the worst way possible,” you explained through your tears.

“I know what you wanted to do the night of the date. I found a velvet box, and I just wanted to confirm that when I flew down here and walked in, it didn’t feel like home. It felt cold and distant, and I didn’t fit here anymore. I saw you happy, glowing, and you had started fresh, and me? I’ve been on autopilot, working, coming home and trying so fucking hard not to think about you, and that journal was an excuse because I couldn’t stay away anymore,” you sputtered out.

“I knew you wanted to propose, and I ran because while it was everything I ever wanted, I wasn’t the woman you deserved, and I don’t know what I’m doing here because I’m certainly not the woman you deserve now. So, thank you for last night, and I’m sorry that I rehashed old wounds, and it was because I was selfish. I was selfish that night, and I’m still the same,” you cried out.

“Selfish?” Mingyu repeated as he walked over to you, holding your face.

“Scared, not selfish,” Mingyu said with a sad smile.

“How do you not hate me; how can you still be so kind and loving after everything I did to you?” You asked as Mingyu wiped your tears away.

“Because I still love you, hell you fucked with me, but when I saw you yesterday, it felt like a missing part of me was found, and while it hurt, because I got used to that missing piece, I felt alive, seeing you, and I know that the last time I gave up because I thought that’s what you wanted, but after last night. I know it’s not; it can’t be. So, tell me, did you come back to ask me about a journal entry or because you love me?” Mingyu asked, and you sighed.

“I left everything. I was looking for something to bring me back to you because, after I left, I didn’t think I had a right to face you again, so the journal was my excuse,” you answered, and Mingyu stared at you.

“Everything?” Mingyu asked.

“I quit and packed my shit and came here and handed over the keys to the apartment in Japan to my landlord, and I guess I came here, hoping to come home and selfishly hoping to come back home to you,” you answered, biting your lip unable to look at Mingyu.

“But your promotion?” Mingyu asked, and you shrugged.

“It took me six months to realise that no promotion, no success in the world meant anything to me if you weren’t by my side, and it felt hollow. Every applause and pay cheque felt worthless because, in a room full of praises, I only ever wanted to hear your voice and come home. I always hoped that you’d be there, and I’d run into your arms and kiss you, and we would both sit and tell each other about our days, and then at night kiss each other and make love to each other, but all I got was an empty house,” you rambled making Mingyu smile tearily at you.

“Can I ask you for a favour?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, looking at him.

“This time, I don’t care how difficult it is, how serious it is, how big or small the issue is, you come to me, no matter if it’s a small issue or a big issue, you’re coming to me, you don’t kick me out, and you don’t fight with me, but you fight for us,” Mingyu explained making your eyes widen.

“After all I did to you. You’ll take me back?” You asked, and Mingyu smiled at you.

“I was always going to come back to fight for you. I just needed time to be strong enough to do so, but yes, because if there’s anything these six months taught me, it is that I’d rather spend six months going through this pain a hundred times over, provided that each time the outcome was the same, you back in my life,” Mingyu explained making you cry even more.

“How can you love me so much?” You asked, making Mingyu laugh.

“You stole my heart in a science class when you threw a paper at my head for being too loud in class, I was yours then, and I’m yours now, so tell me, my love, will you be mine again?” Mingyu asked, and you cried, nodding.

“If you can forgive me?” You cried out, and Mingyu smiled sweetly at you.

“I forgave you long ago. I was hurt, but my love for you is paramount, and it’s easier to love you than to be mad at you,” Mingyu explained, hugging you. “The perk of knowing you for so many years is that I know, despite your harsh words, you get defensive and deflective and often, what you do instead of saying the truth is act and lash out.”

“I don’t deserve a love as understanding as the one you have for me,” you admitted, and Mingyu shrugged.

“We didn’t have the most perfect few years, but maybe that’s what we needed. Maybe Dr Kwan’s separation therapy worked because six months of radio silence was more painful than when we were fighting. After all, at least I could see you hug you, and talk to you, but not hear a word from you, not knowing anything that was nothing short of torture. I don’t want to go through that again,” Mingyu explained.

“It took me losing you to realise how much I love you,” you answered, pausing to wipe your tears, “and if you let me, Mingyu, I’ll never let you go again. I’ll love you the way I always should have, and I’ll never let you go because losing you was like I lost my ability to breathe, but here in your arms. I feel safe, loved, and at home, and I don’t want to lose my home again, and I-” Mingyu’s lips cut off your speech on yours.

“Sorry, but I had to,” Mingyu said sheepishly, making you smile.

“This will sound weird, but Y/N, will you go on a date with me?” Mingyu asked, making you smile as you burst into a wide smile and hugged him tightly.

“I’d love to,” you answered.

“Good, Tuesday night? I’ll pick you up. It’s a surprise,” Mingyu asked, and you nodded furiously.

All those times you thought it’d work, you always were still unsure, but today, right now, you knew that you’d love him because loving him allowed you to see the world in colour and losing him took away all the colour and joy in the world and this time you didn’t want to fix it for the sake of it.

You wanted to fix it because you loved him.

The Finale: What I Should Have Said

One Year Later

“Oh, for the love of God, please do not break,” Mingyu muttered as he set up the decorations for your anniversary date on the balcony. At this moment, he was yelling at a bouquet to stand still.

“Mingyu? What is so urgent? I’m home?” You called out, and Mingyu pouted, glaring at the faultless flower bouquet. You were back and early,

“In here!” Mingyu yelled out.

You walked into the house, noticing all the lights had been dimmed. There were flower petals everywhere. You smiled. You knew Mingyu was going to do something for the anniversary. You just weren’t entirely sure what.

“Hi,” Mingyu looked up to see you, smiling at the decorations. He walked over to you and kissed you.

“Happy Anniversary.” He mumbled against your lips.

“Happy Anniversary to you, too,” you said. You smiled as he held your hand and pulled you to the sofa.

“Ooh, cake!” You exclaimed, making Mingyu roll his eyes at you.

“I’m a three-course meal, and you are salivating over a cake?” Mingyu complained, but you laughed.

“Oh, get over it,” You kept laughing, and Mingyu sliced a piece out for you. He was oddly precise and took a long time to slice the cake.

“Dude, just give me the cake,” you muttered, and Mingyu scowled.

“Did you just dude me?” Mingyu asked dramatically. You smiled at him as you took the cake from him and immediately scooped a piece into your mouth. You felt something sharp in your mouth; you tasted blood and metal and glared at Mingyu.

“What did you do? Accidentally leave a fork in the cake?” You glared, and Mingyu gasped in an attempt to bite back a laugh.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up and find out?” Mingyu offered, and you looked at him strangely. However, it was your turn to gasp as you ran to the bathroom and pulled a ring from your mouth.

You washed the ring and returned to the balcony where Mingyu was frantically pacing.

“Mingyu?” You asked, holding out the now-washed ring in your hand. Mingyu took it from you and knelt down.

“I waited too long last time, I waited for a sign, the right time, all that bullshit, and I’m not saying that if I had done it earlier, our problems would have never occurred, but I know waiting sure as hell didn’t help. I know I wanted to marry you when I was 19, and now, more than ten years later, I still want that, except this time, I don’t want to wait to find the right time, place or anything. I don’t need any of that. I just know that I need the right person, and I have that with you, my love,” Mingyu declared, making you tear up.

“The last year has been a lot for us. We found each other again and worked together to fix ourselves, and you know what? I’d do it all over again if it meant fixing us, and if it meant that a year later, I’d be here proposing to you, so what do you say, Y/N? Will you be mine forever, and will you love me forever the way I know I will love you?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded, unable to say much but give him a muffled yes.

Mingyu slipped the ring onto your finger, pulled you into his arms, and hugged you tightly.

“When I said we’d be okay, this is what I meant, I knew it’d hurt, and it’d take fucking a lot of time and patience, but I’d do it all over again a thousand times even if this is the ending, I get each time we’re done,” Mingyu spoke, and you looked up at him smiling.

“Me too. I’d lose you a thousand times over if it meant being back in your arms at the end,” you replied, making Mingyu smile.

“I love you,” Mingyu said, and you smiled at him, “I love you too, so much you loved me despite all my flaws and imperfections”, you replied.

“I saw those ‘flaws’ and ‘imperfections,’ and I fell in love with every part of you. We’re both imperfect, but the way we love each other, now that’s fucking perfect!” Mingyu replied, holding you tighter.

You knew this was your home; with him in his arms, that’s where it was no longer cold; it was warm, safe, and it was home.

He was home.

#seventeen fic #mingyu smut #mingyu #svt fic #svthub #mingyu fic #kvanity #exile: k.m.g #kim mingyu

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ma1dita · 1 year ago

Note

I need a pt 2 to the Luke and long distance!gf PLEASEEEEE

mdni

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

pt 1 here

a/n: man... getting out of my writing rut so here's this filth. sexting. kinda public. luke cums in his pants. what a loser

wc: 780

*bzzz*

Luke’s phone buzzes for the third time in a row in his Financial Marketing lecture today. The notification shakes his phone against the wood of the table to the point that it’s bugging the hell out of Chris who’s locked into whatever the professor’s saying—but as soon as Luke sees your name flash across the slightly cracked screen of his iPhone, he drops his pen in favor of you. His brother rolls his eyes, slumping further into his seat head lolling against his arm. There’s a smile that immediately settles upon Luke’s cheeks at the thought of you.

“baby 🤭 you busy?”

“why are you not answering you don’t even like this class anyway”

“fine ig i’ll ask someone else for their opinion 🤷🏻‍♀️”

He chuckles lowly as he types out a reply, “opinion on what babe 👀” and Chris nudges his arm with a nod to ask if everything’s good. The professor drones on in the background about the stock market and for once, Luke is glad that Hermes gave him the ability to skate through his Econ degree (the only think he’ll be grateful to his absent father for), because it gives him more time to focus on more important things, like the slew of images of you trying on bikinis that infiltrate his phone.

[5 Image attachments]

“oops sorry! guess i sent them to the wrong person”

He gulps almost comically, shifting in his seat as he saves them for later. Shifty eyes and quick fingers can only do so much in a crowded lecture hall. But you see that his read receipts are on, and frankly the lack of a response is irritating when you’re pulling your best poses in the comfort of your living room. Boys never get how much effort it takes to be sexy.

“damn. guess i’ll go find a new boyfriend who can appreciate all of this”

Luke sighs, half stifled by is need to see you bare and his spit going down the wrong pipe that he clears his throat loudly, trying to ignore his jeans tightening by the second. Licking his lips, he clicks on the presentation slides, trying to catch up to where the professor is after your very welcome distractions.

[Image attachment]

He presses the ‘next’ button just as another iMessage notification pops up on his screen, trigger finger clicking open an image of your tits pressed between your fingers, nipples taut against the fabric and lips between your teeth—all shiny soft skin almost bursting through the flimsy top that’s loosening and almost vivid through the still image. If there’s more, he thinks he’s seeing stars.

Luke slams his laptop shut and it echoes.

He takes a deep breath trying to remember what year it is.

“You good bro?”

Chris mumbles with a furrowed brow, watching sweat glisten against Luke’s flushed cheeks.

“Not feeling well. Think I’m gonna head out. Send me notes later?”

It’s almost an inside joke between the two of them, but Luke laughs a little too hard trying to play it off. He shoves his laptop into his backpack, before slowly weaving through the row and hoping no one noticed his girlfriend’s tits on the blown up screen of his Macbook. But then again, something’s obviously off as he walks stiffly towards the exit, feet swift with no predetermined destination. Luke contemplates the probability of someone interrupting him in the hall bathroom if he goes there to rub one out. His dick is hard and weepy, frustration brimming at the seams of his resolve when he walks out of the lecture hall. Readjusting himself into his waistband and groaning at the pressure, Luke wonders if he can walk home fast enough.

[Video attachment]

He stops in his tracks as he opens your message, the sound of your moans and slick movements of your fingers buried under the damp bottoms of your bikini almost too loud in his Airpods. His dark brown eyes trace the movements of your swiveling hips on his screen and he leans against the wall to groan lowly, a pathetic noise clawing up his throat, until his mouth dries at the sight of you parting the fabric aside just in time for him to watch you cum hard, soaking the rest of your hand and the leather of the couch beneath your ass. Luke doesn’t realize his body’s unprompted decision to join your release until he feels a sticky, uncomfortable warmth pool against the bottom of his shirt, soiled beyond belief.

His head of curls bangs against the wall behind him as he moans.

*bzzz*

A lopsided grin forms on his face when his phone buzzes again in his hand.

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩#luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #made by ma1dita ♥︎

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that-irrelevant-ricecakeaddict · 1 year ago

Text

"Baby we're high on you."

Drug Dealer!Seonghwa x f!reader x Drug Dealer!Hongjoong

Shout-out to @seventhcallisto for helping me with the planning and writing of the smut scene <333 Do check out her writing!

Parts 3/3 of Drug Dealer! Seonghwa

>>Part 1:"She's a regular here..."

>>Part 2:"Use me like a drug!"

CW: threesome, unprotected sex (stay safe guys), switch!matz, drug dealers!matz, mentions of illegal activity, a little bxb action, lmk if I missed out anything!!

< [y/n]’s dms with Seonghwa >

Hwa 💞: sweetheart?

Hwa 💞: I kinda need need your help with something

Hwa 💞: It's a big favour…

you: What is it? You know I'll help however I can

Hwa 💞: Well, Joong and I need a safe place to stay at

Hwa 💞: That big raid on PARADIGM is happening soon, and many dealers are closing shop temporarily to avoid getting caught in the crossfire from the probable gang clash, MATZ included

Hwa 💞: Do you think we could crash at your college dorm for a week or two?

Hwa 💞: It's completely fine if it's too much of an inconvenience, of course!

you: Hwa, I'd love to have you guys stay over! My roommate is actually flying off tomorrow to visit her parents in her home country. She'll be gone for the next month, so you guys are free to stay longer than 2 weeks if you need to <3

Hwa 💞: Thank you so much, my love 🫶

< Present >

Your fuzzy socks swished against the floorboards when you scrambled over to the front door at the sound of the doorbell. Quickly pulling a stray lock of hair aside to make yourself look a little more presentable, you unlocked the door, coming face-to-face with your raven-haired boyfriend.

“Seonghwa!! You're here!”

You practically launched yourself into Seonghwa's arms, earning a chuckle from him. He tilted his head downwards to kiss your hair, wild hair strands tickling the tattooed skin on his neck. You hummed appreciatively in response, and snuggled into his snakeskin blazer. The two of you stayed this way for a moment. An annoyed voice from behind Seonghwa suddenly spoke up.

“If you guys are done making me feel single, I'd like to be able to put down my things.”

You leaned around your boyfriend to see his best friend and partner-in-crime (literally), Hongjoong, standing behind him, the fur from his fluffy winter hat seemingly irritating his eyes. He stumbled slightly under the weight of the heavy duffle bag slung across his shoulder. “Oh, sorry– let me help you with that,” you mumbled. He sighed and shook his head. “No, I'm sorry, you're the one helping us out here. I'm just feeling annoyed because of all the admin work we had to do for a fucking gang clash that we're not even involved in.”

You let him step around you to enter the apartment, while Seonghwa patted his best friend on the shoulder. “It's for safety precautions, Joong. Closing MATZ temporarily is better than possibly losing it, we've talked about this.” Hongjoong huffed in response from the living room, a loud thump indicating that he had plopped himself on the couch there.

Once certain that Hongjoong was out of earshot, Seonghwa leaned downwards, gesturing to you to listen carefully.

“Hongjoong's been more stressed from this whole ordeal. Usually he just has to deal with shipment schedules and arrangements, but the raid on PARADIGM gave him a lot more work to do, what with the postponing of shipments and smuggling tactics. He's also super ticked off about having to close shop, even though it's just temporary. Personally I feel like his current workload is equivalent to what I deal with on a daily basis, but, you know, to each his own.”

You listened attentively to his words, giggling quietly at Seonghwa's sassy remark at the end. He smiled and gave you a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks again for letting us stay over, sweetheart. We'll look after ourselves and do some chores around the place while you're at lectures, hm?”

“That would be so sweet of you. Though I'm honestly not complaining, since it means I get more time with you…”

“Mmm, I thought the same. But we,” Seonghwa's eyes lingered pointedly at the shorter man in your living room, “Won't cause any trouble. Promise.”

“I'll take your word for it, baby.”

Over the next few days, Seonghwa did indeed keep his promise of not causing any trouble. Emphasis on just Seonghwa. His best friend, on the other hand, was the exact opposite.

The living arrangements were as such: Seonghwa would sleep with you in your room, and Hongjoong would sleep on the couch in the living room. However, it wasn't long before you and Seonghwa found out that Hongjoong was secretly still doing deals with clients. And he was hiding his products in the crevices of your sofa. “The grind never stops, I gotta make that bag,” he'd protested when you confronted him about a box of ice that was shoved under a couch cushion. But thanks to Seonghwa's unlikely, but still plausible, argument of getting your dormitory raided under police investigation for illegal activities, he was able to get the younger man to get rid of the goods. Also, it wouldn't have been a very good look on you if Yujin, your roommate, came back to find tiny jars of weed rolling around under the couch.

Eventually, to prevent him from pulling another similar stunt again, Seonghwa and you agreed to let him sleep in Yujin's room, which was right next to yours and would let Seonghwa keep an ear on his best friend's movements. Hongjoong had readily agreed to this. Now both the threat of getting into trouble with the cops and the threat of dealing with Kim “your-couch-gave-me-a-fucking-backache” Hongjoong every morning were out of the way.

A few days passed after the new arrangements were made, and there was a particular morning that Hongjoong started acting weird around you.

It was the morning after the three of you had sat down together for a drink, celebrating you finally submitting a paper that had been torturing you for a week. Having gotten blackout drunk for the first time in a while, you didn't remember what had happened after waking up in the morning. You'd assumed that Seonghwa had just carried you back to bed after you'd fallen asleep from the alcohol (it wasn't the first time your boyfriend's had to deal with your drinking habits).

Yawning and scratching at your neck, you stepped out into the hallway, head aching from the hangover and stomach grumbling for something savoury. The sound of water running in the shared bathroom indicated that Seonghwa was taking his usual morning shower, so you decided to make breakfast for everyone. You stumbled slightly into the kitchen/dining room, surprised to see Hongjoong slumped over a cup of coffee at the kitchen island.

“Joong?”

The man jumped slightly at you calling him. He'd evidently been spacing out before you made your presence known. He dipped his head at you, his unusually jittery eyes avoiding contact with your own.

“Good morning y/n…”

“Why're you up so early? I usually don't see you awake and aware of your surroundings until lunchtime.”

“Ah… I slept earlier than usual after that drink with you and Hwa. So I managed to get up earlier.”

Hongjoong took your hum as an approval. Sure, it was a lie, but you didn't know that. His breath hitched when you stretched your arms back, letting out a quiet moan at the same time.

“You okay, Joong? Did you drink too much last night?”

“A-ah, yeah…uhm, in fact, I really need to go lie down right now.”

“Oh, but I was about to make breakfast for us…”

“There's no need to make a portion for me! I'll join you and Seonghwa later for lunch, maybe.”

You pursed your lips at his hurried response, but shrugged it off. Hongjoong hopped off the elevated kitchen island stool, shuffling back down the hall and into his temporary room.

Once inside, he groaned and bit his lip, nearly drawing blood from how hard his teeth dug into his lip. Memories of the night before flashed through Hongjoong's mind. Lying alone in bed, shamelessly listening to you and his best friend fuck relentlessly on the other side the wall. Turns out you'd forgotten how horny excessive alcohol would make you. And the walls were, evidently, very very thin.

Hongjoong whined pathetically at the raging boner in his shorts, which had formed when you were talking to him in the kitchen. How was he supposed to face you after overhearing you at your most vulnerable state? How could he, after hearing your whimpers and cries of “Seonghwa, harder~”, his best friend's name that slipped out of your mouth like a prayer? How could he, after he had snuck a hand down his shorts, stroking himself to the rhythm of your melodious moans? He swore under his breath, making a promise to himself to just avoid talking to you alone until the gang clash was over, and he could finally leave.

That, however, proved very hard to do, especially with an intuitive man like Park Seonghwa in the premises. Being the observant person he is, he quickly picked up on Hongjoong's closed-off body language and evasive responses to your small talk. He immediately figured out exactly what was bothering Hongjoong, too. After all, on that night, Seonghwa was drunk but still aware enough to know that the younger man had probably overheard him fucking his needy girlfriend into the mattress. The only difference was that while it bothered Hongjoong and made him all flustered and embarrassed, it had actually been a major turn-on for Seonghwa himself. There had been plenty of instances when he had made out with or had sex with you in his office, the premise of possibly getting caught by his business partner always spurring him on. Sadly, Hongjoong had never actually walked in on it happening. However, staying in the same house as the two of you made it bound to happen. And it did nothing but excite Seonghwa. He would surely exploit this.

☆☆☆

Nearly 2 weeks into his and Seonghwa's stay at your dorm, Hongjoong laid across the bed, mindlessly reloading his messages. He groaned. Never would he have known that he'd ever actually miss the usual stream of texts from clients ordering from MATZ’s supply. It was quiet. Too quiet. He hopped up from the bed, opting to go watch a movie in the living room to pass some time. You and Seonghwa had gone out for a late-night convenience store run, and had taken Hongjoong's request for a dessert.

Plopping down on the couch, Hongjoong winced at the memory of sleepless nights on the cramped cushions. Sure, now he was sleeping in an actual bed, but with the things he's overheard next to his temporary room, was it really any better than the lumpy couch? His mind began wandering at this thought again. He bit his lip shamefully when he imagined your muffled moaning and whines from that night. He stared at the growing tent in his sweats, contemplating silently on whether he should do something about it.

Just as he was reaching for the boner between his legs, the familiar clatter and squeak of a key came from the door. Hongjoong quickly shoved a cushion over his lap and pointed the remote at the TV, playing a random movie to look occupied.

“Joong! Hwa and I are back!”

“And we got that rice pudding you asked for~”

You and Seonghwa walked into the living room, shrugging off jackets that were slightly wet from rainwater. Had it been raining? Hongjoong was too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice. He smiled gratefully at Seonghwa when he handed him a plastic bag, no doubt containing his beloved pudding. Hongjoong's eyes momentarily flickered up to the “MATZ” tattoo scrawled across his best friend's neck.

Drops of sweat and rainwater trickled down the blurred black lines and Seonghwa's dewy skin. Seonghwa was panting slightly, a red tinge on his pale face, possibly from running in the rain earlier on. Hongjoong's mind wandered again. Does Seonghwa pant like that and look like that when he fucks you? Would you kiss against his sweaty neck when he has you bent in half?

“Joong? I asked you if you need a spoon…”

Hongjoong snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Seonghwa speaking. He nodded quickly and mumbled a “yeah”, still avoiding eye contact with both Seonghwa and you. What the fuck? Why was he daydreaming about the both of you now? Maybe the lack of activity and work was really driving him mad. He didn't notice you standing at the nearby kitchen island, exchanging mischievous glances with Seonghwa who was leaning against the couch backing.

“Hey Hongjoong, have you been doing alright?”

“H..huh? What? Why are you asking?”

“You've been so closed off lately. Both Hwa and I have noticed it.”

Your voice was laced with sympathy, hiding your intentions. Hongjoong sighed tiredly and scratched at his neck. You made eye contact with your boyfriend, fighting the urge to smile at his knowing glance.

“Uh, yeah, I'm good… probably just getting used to the new sleeping arrangements.”

“No way, you miss sleeping on that crappy, old couch? I didn't take you for a masochist, Joong.”

Walking over to sit next to the younger man, Seonghwa prodded teasingly at him. You slid over and joined the duo on the couch, sitting on Hongjoong's other side. Hongjoong was still oblivious to yours and his best friend's movements, his fists clutched tightly on the cushion covering his rock-hard dick.

“I'm good… Just a little stressed about not being able to work, probably.”

“Ahhh, I see~ You must be really tense.”

“Mhm, look at him, Hwa! His shoulders are so stiff and tight.”

Without warning, you reached out and put your hands on Hongjoong's shoulders, giving an experimental squeeze. What neither you nor Seonghwa expected, however, was for a deep, drawn-out moan to escape from Hongjoong's lips.

Hongjoong's eyes widened and filled with panic at the realisation of what he did. Waving his hands frantically at yours and Seonghwa's blank stares, he jumped up from the couch and started talking at what seemed like a hundred syllables-per-second.

“Oh fuck oh shit I'm so sorry- I don't know why I made that noise, I've just been so tense and like stressed and shit- honestly speaking my shoulders are really sensitive, too, so like-”

The couch cushion slipped off his lap in his frenzy. Unbeknownst to him, this made you and Seonghwa notice the raging boner in his sweats. Hongjoong didn't even clock the knowing glance you and your boyfriend shared, instead continuing to ramble a stream of apologies.

“Hongjoong.”

“--I know, I know, it was extremely inappropriate for me to fucking moan in front of your girlfriend, Hwa!! Please forget what you just–”

“Kim Hongjoong!! I know you heard us fucking the other night!”

Both yours and Hongjoong's eyes grew as wide as saucers.

“Baby, what… what d'you mean?”

Your lips trembled, a deep blush appearing on your face as you hesitated to speak up. Your boyfriend had told you that Hongjoong had been sexually frustrated recently, but he'd conveniently left out the part about him overhearing the two of you having sex. Wait, was that why Hongjoong was horny in the first place?

Seonghwa offered you a soft, reassuring glance in response, the subtle clench of your thighs not going unnoticed by his sharp eyes. He quickly turned his gaze back to the man standing dumbfounded in front of the two of you.

He had never seen his best friend look so taken aback, flustered and embarrassed, all at the same time. Hongjoong's face was paused on an expression that screamed “oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-shit”. Seonghwa maintained a stern look, with you shifting uncomfortably behind him. The room suddenly felt very, very warm.

“Seonghwa, look, I….”

Hongjoong finally opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off almost immediately.

“Do you wanna have sex with us?”

Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Hongjoong stared, bewildered, at Seonghwa, wondering if all the weed he did was finally catching up to him.

“I– excuse me?”

“Yeah, Hwa, what the fuck..?”

Seonghwa scoffed at both of you. He arched his neck onto the back of the couch, the tattoo on his neck seemingly dancing seductively against his skin as he did so. He slid a veiny hand down to your exposed thigh, cold rings against your skin earning a shuddering sigh from you. He smirked when he saw Hongjoong's boner twitch in his sweatpants.

“Don't act like you guys haven't thought about it! Hongjoong, I've seen how your eyes linger on my sweetheart's pretty tits when she wears her tank tops around the house. I'm not blind, I always catch you checking out my ass and my neck, too. You want both of us, don't you? And Y/N, right now, I can see you squeezing your thighs.”

Hongjoong watched with bated breath as Seonghwa's finger slid into the opening of your shorts. You jumped a little when his thick fingertip made contact with your soaking-wet panties.

“Fuck, babygirl, you got turned on from knowing that my best friend heard me fucking you into the sheets? You're so wet for us, so dirty, hm?”

You whined at his words, body instinctively leaning closer to him, before dazedly nodding in acknowledgement. Seonghwa smiled at this. He really knew your body and your kinks like the back of his goddamn hand. He then whipped his head at Hongjoong, who was slowly inching away, evidently debating between staying to see what was going to happen, or changing his name and fleeing the country.

“So? What d'you say to a threesome?”

“I…”

Hongjoong's eyes darted uncertainly to you. You were leaning against Seonghwa, eyes glazed over and looking very needy. Seonghwa cooed at you, at the same time reassuring the hesitant man.

“Don't worry. The two of us have talked about having sex together with another person. She's honestly as into it as I am, and who else would be a better candidate than my hot best friend?”

Hongjoong bit his lip in deep thought. Despite his years of friendship with Seonghwa, he did often think of the two of you at the same time, especially on those lonely nights in his bed. Even before he overhead you fucking. After all, you were a very hot couple. He attempted to reason with himself, taking a brief moment to weigh the pros and cons. But his dick was so hard it felt like it was gonna burst. And this could be the opportunity of a lifetime. Heck, it was practically being served to him on a silver-fucking-platter.

“Fuck, man, let's do it.”

♡♡♡

Seonghwa’s tough hands had gently spread your legs apart for Hongjoong. The other waited with bated breath when he finally got a good look at your damp panties. “Fuck” he hissed under his breath, and Seonghwa's lip quirked up into a smirk. Peering back up to look into your dazed eyes, Seonghwa parted one of his hands from your thighs to gently skim his fingers over your slit, causing your thighs to jolt. “Seonghwa~” you whined gently, turning your head into the pillow. “You're so wet babygirl” he murmured, glancing to Hongjoong who had been sitting there, his hands balled into his lap to keep them to himself.

“Go on joong, touch her,” he retreated his hand after skimming your clit through the fabric, another low moan falling from your lips. “And you, baby, don't move an inch” Seonghwa's voice spoke up once more, in a sterner tone this time. Hongjoong didn't have to be told twice, with a single look to confirm, he shifted to laying between your wide hips, guiding your legs over his shoulders.

You were soaked. Evidence lingered on the expansion of your panties, a dark patch of wetness that Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to indulge himself in. Taste and get lost in. His fingers parted your folds through the fabric, thumbing your clit gently as he ran his fingers around your slick. You breathily whimpered, already tired of the teasing - but willing to take it slow for Hongjoong.

“You look so fucking pretty,” Seonghwa groaned by your ear, lying next to you to hold your hips down. He knew you tended to get a little overzealous with your movements. You whimpered at the praise, guiding your hand through your boyfriend's hair to tug him on your mouth, a mess of tongue and teeth, the slight chill of his grillz, even when he pulled away to begin kissing along your neck. Generously pulling your shirt over your chest so he could shove his hands into the warmth of your breasts, kneading the flushed flesh.

“Not even a bra, fuck, wanted to play with these pretty tits as soon as I saw you in this tight ass shirt,” he hummed into your neck. Before you could reply, Hongjoong placed an open kiss on your clit through your panties, making you jolt.

Hongjoong’s tongue swept out to lick up the length of your cunt, humming at the taste of you, his nose ever so gently bumping against your clit every time he swipes through your folds, wetting you with his saliva and collecting all of the slick you've produced so far. A trail of heat building in your core from the foreplay, the rough pads of Seonghwa's expert fingers pinching and twirling your nipples has you clenching around nothing. With a whine, your head falls to the bed. “Hwa- joong- please,” you called out, needing to feel something in your pussy or else you'd go insane.

Or worse, beg for it. Hongjoong’s lashes parted to glance at Seonghwa. Lust, dark and heavy swirled in his eyes as soon as they clashed. Joong couldn't help but grind his hips forward into the bed, his cock catching at the front of his sweats, he swirls his thumb over your clit once again to apply more pressure. Watching Seonghwa squeeze once on your tits, exhorting another distorted sound from your lungs. “Are you gonna let Hongjoong play with that pretty pussy of yours, darling? Put his mouth and fingers all over you?” He murmurs, breath fanning over your ear.

You nodded your head eagerly, whimpering under your breath and shifting your thighs at the thought. The anticipation building up within you. Seonghwa's hand left your breast to grab your chin, pinching it enough so that your eyes popped open to see what he was doing.

Confidence was in every corner of Seonghwa's eyes, a dominance that would eat you alive. “Say it, sweetheart.” He purred, dropping his hand to crane your neck to look at Hongjoong, still rubbing circles into your sensitive bud.

His eyes - equally blown and lustful as Seonghwa's - were trained directly on you, your breath caught. “Hongjoong.. joong will you please touch my pretty pussy? Please.” You spoke with clearness, an eagerness only a person as demanding as Seonghwa would get out of you.

Hongjoong didn't need to be told twice.

He immediately dived in, tugging aside the crotch of your panties before attaching his mouth to your pussy. A loud moan tore from your throat when he began lapping at your already soaking folds. Surely your neighbours would've heard that, and would be complaining to you the next morning, but you could care less. He slurped relentlessly at your wetness, humming happily into your cunt, all while you squirmed and let out little “ah-ah”s for the two men. Music to their ears.

You cried out when Hongjoong's finger prodded the rim of your pussy, helplessly clawing at his hand to stuff his fingers in as far as possible. He scoffed under his breath, taken aback by your urgency.

“She's needy, isn't she, Joong?”

“Y-yeah, fuck…”

Seonghwa smirked at his best friend's reply, opting to tease him further when a mischievous remark came to mind.

“Bet you think about her crying for your cock, huh?”

Hongjoong blushed furiously at Seonghwa's cheeky accusation.

“S-shut up, man!”

He rolled his eyes at Seonghwa before stuffing his index and middle fingers into you. This pulled out a needy moan from you, twisting your fists into the sheets at the sensation of Hongjoong's fingers caressing your pussy walls. He couldn't help but groan at how your body just yearned for more and more of his touch. You clenched around on his fingers, cumming faster than expected. Hongjoong couldn't help but stare at you; breasts rising and falling from your orgasm, a thin layer of sweat that had formed on your dewy skin. He knew he just had to give you more.

Hongjoong looked nervously at Seonghwa, who was still laying leisurely across the bed and caressing your skin.

“Seonghwa… May I….”

“Hm?”

Hongjoong tried to speak up to the older man, but his words trailed off once more. Seonghwa knew what he was going to ask. And he already knew he would allow whatever it was. But was he going to let Hongjoong do it without saying it out aloud? No way in hell.

The prolonged eye contact between the two men made Hongjoong understood what Seonghwa was asking for. Sucking in a deep breath, he finally spoke.

“May I… Can I fuck her?”

Seonghwa's lips curled into a satisfied smile and he nodded, pleased with himself for having gotten Hongjoong to speak up for once.

Hongjoong fumbled with his belt, slipping it off with a click and pulling down his pants and boxers at once. His cock was rock hard and already leaking pre-cum. Even in your dazed state, you still marvelled over how girthy it was. It was not as long as your boyfriend's, but it was plenty thick and would definitely stretch you out. You whimpered when Hongjoong rubbed his tip over your entrance. He groaned at how your slick essentially served as a natural lube for him. Seonghwa cooed at you when you grabbed his hand for support.

“Aww, you wanna be stretched out by my best friend's cock, my love?”

“M-mhm, p-please~”

“It's his dick, not mine, sweetheart. Tell Hongjoong what you want.”

You mewled at Seonghwa's stern tone and turned shyly to the man standing between your legs. Sliding a hand down in between your thighs, you used your digits to stretch open your sopping pussy.

“Please fuck me, Joongie~”

If it was even remotely possible, Hongjoong felt himself grow even harder at your voice. How could someone be so fucking perfect? Who was he to deny you of your desires.

“Since you asked so nicely~”

Hongjoong chuckled and sank his dick into your hole, the wind in his lungs almost being knocked out from how perfectly warm you felt. He grunted and knitted his eyebrows in frustration, hips twitching slightly in place. It was taking everything in him not to just start thrusting into you at an animalistic pace. You sighed breathily when his girthy member pushed into you, whining quietly while trying to get used to his size. The entire time, Seonghwa was peppering kisses on your hand and rubbing his thumb soothingly over your forehead.

“That's it, love, you're doing so good for him, hm? It's almost like you were made for cock, baby, you look so precious right now.”

Your boyfriend hummed sweet nothings into your ear as you took deep breaths, your body slowly accommodating to take Hongjoong's thickness. When you were sufficiently stretched out enough, you nodded at Hongjoong, who gladly obliged to start moving.

The room filled with your whiny moans, mixed with Hongjoong's breathy grunts. Seonghwa watched on with a lustful gaze at the scene taking place before him; his best friend and business partner, rocking in and out of his sweet, beloved girlfriend's dripping pussy. He couldn't have been more turned on. He bit his lip at the sight of your cunt stretching out everytime Hongjoong pushed his dick into it, again and again. Your slick leaked out around his girthy member, giving it a sheen under the dim bedroom lights.

Seonghwa's eyes perked up when he noticed Hongjoong was starting to move faster. His thrusts grew more erratic and uneven, eliciting cries of “J-joongie wait!!” from you. Hongjoong was in the zone, his head thrown back and whines growing louder as his hips did anything but stop. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he was about to cum.

This didn't sit right with Seonghwa. He could tell you hadn't cum yet, so why was Hongjoong rushing for his own orgasm already? Clearly he needed to be taught a lesson.

Seonghwa quickly got up and got behind Hongjoong, pulling him out of you and tossing him effortlessly onto the bed. You whimpered at the sudden loss of warmth, and Hongjoong let out a yelp of dissatisfaction. But before he could complain, Seonghwa held him down by his thighs and started furiously jerking off his leaky cock with his free hand.

Hongjoong's protests turned to desperate whines, his breathing growing increasingly turbulent, as his best friend twisted and pulled at his twitching cock. When he finally released, cumming all over his stomach and Seonghwa's hand. Seonghwa smiled, clearly pleased with himself. He jeered snarkily at Hongjoong.

“Looks like your stamina for fucking is the same as your stamina for your workload~”

Seonghwa then lifted his slender hand to his mouth, making it a point to slowly lick off Hongjoong's thick cum while making direct eye contact with him. The younger man watched with flickering eyelids, biting his lip so hard that it almost drew blood.

You watched the whole scene unfold with hooded eyes. Despite being upset over not being able to orgasm, you couldn't help but clench your thighs at the fucked-out look on Hongjoong's face.

After getting off Hongjoong, Seonghwa slid over to you, helping you to sit up and kissing you tenderly on your neck. Catching a look at your pouty expression, he murmured a quick apology and winked at you, before turning back to Hongjoong.

He'd finally recovered from his release, and was now looking irritably at Seonghwa.

“What the fuck was that for?”

“My sweetheart was nowhere near cumming, yet you were already chasing your own orgasm. Talk about selfish, Hongjoong.”

“Dude…”

Your boyfriend chuckled at the younger man's defeated body language.

“It's fine. We all make mistakes,” (cue Hongjoong looking offended as fuck) “Let me show you how to actually please an angel like her.”

Seonghwa laid you back onto the sheets, his eyes searching yours for any form of denial. Still such a gentleman even after he'd watched his best friend pound you like there was no tomorrow. You nodded eagerly, eager - heck, desperate - to give him any number of orgasms at this point. “My sweet girl,” he chuckled lightly into your ear, kissing down the valley of your breasts while slipping off his belt and pants.

You drooled at the sight of his cock lying against your thigh. No matter how many times you'd seen it, you could never get over how long and pretty it was. Flushed with beads of precum leaking from the tip, poised at an angle that hit your g-spot everytime without fail.

As Seonghwa lined himself up at your twitching hole, he turned to face Hongjoong, who was sitting on the other end of the bed and watching the two of you intently. His dick was already rock hard again. Seonghwa rubbed his hand up your thigh lovingly, actions clashing with the stern tone he would use to address the other man.

“Watch and learn, Hongjoong.”

He leisurely rolled his hips into yours, lengthy dick already rubbing against that sweet spot in you. You jolted at the sensation, hands immediately flying up to grip at his toned arms.

“Ah- ah, Seonghwa~!”

He grinned at how fast you were reacting for him, before setting a steady pace and leaving love bites all over your chest. He reached up to push your legs over his shoulders, strong grip leaving behind blurry red marks against your thighs. Your mind grew fuzzy within mere minutes. It was amazing how well your boyfriend knew your body. Your hands left his arms to curl into his hair, tugging lightly at his short, cute ponytail for support. His heavenly groans and your rhythmic moans mixed together like the symphony of an orchestra. Hongjoong could only watch and tug lightly at his dick, unsure of whose position he wanted to be in at that moment.

In between his heavy thrusts, Seonghwa made eye contact with you. He smiled radiantly, making your heart skip a beat. That loving, heartfelt look in his sparkly eyes and the expert movement of his hips pushed you over the edge. Your hips canted against his pelvis, orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave.

“S-seonghwa, I-!”

You let out a high-pitched mewl, body shaking as you creamed around your lover's dick. A white ring quickly formed around the base of his still-hard cock. Seonghwa hummed satisfactorily as he swiped at your dripping release and stuck his coated finger into your mouth. You gladly obliged, sucking on his fingertip, tasting the orgasm you'd given to him. The hazy look in your eyes only steered him on even more.

Seonghwa leaned down, voice barely above a whisper.

“Think you can give me another one, love? Maybe stick Joongie’s cock in your mouth while you're at it? After all, he didn't get to finish in you~”

“Hwaa….but only you can cum in me..?”

Pride bubbled in Seonghwa's chest at your response.

“Mmm, that's right, baby. But we have to give him some sort of consolation prize, especially since he's been so patient.”

Hongjoong's whiny voice suddenly cut him off.

“Fuck, the two of you are so frustratingly hot, but weren't you supposed to help me?? My balls are about to fucking burst, and you having your little moment isn't really helping.”

Seonghwa clicked his tongue, sighing dramatically at the man's impatience. He quickly made eye contact with you, smiling when you nodded, a green light for the night to continue.

“You're so needy, Joong… get your ass over here.”

You'd never seen anyone get up so fast and run over. Seonghwa sat on the edge of the mattress, directing for you to sit on his thighs, your back flush against his chest. Excitement tingled in your core when he lifted you easily, sinking you onto his erect dick. You closed your eyes for a moment, getting used to his lengthy cock resting in you. When you came to, Hongjoong stood in front of you, his own heavy, leaky dick out on display. His expression was a mix of relief and desperation.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, man, fuck, let's just get to it-”

“Shut up! I was talking to Y/n.”

Before you could giggle at the two men's bickering, Hongjoong shoved his dick into your mouth. You could feel it pulsating against the opening of your throat. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you began bobbing your head up and down on him. Hongjoong moaned shakily, hands finding the base of your neck for support.

“She's good at sucking cock, isn't she?”

Your boyfriend sounded proud. Hongjoong could only groan in response, nodding eagerly at the same time. Seonghwa quietly enjoyed the scene for a short while before he started to thrust lightly into you, veiny hands squeezing the plush flesh of your ass. You gasped around Hongjoong's girthy member, your whimpers sending vibrations through him. He couldn't help but shudder at the sight before him; his best friend's cute girlfriend expertly deepthroating him, while said best friend sat below her and grinded into her plush ass. Your plump lips enveloped Hongjoong's cock again and again, allowing him to fully enjoy the view. Watching the furrow of Seonghwa's eyebrows and beads of sweat dripping down his forehead was the cherry on top. Who knew such perfect scenery existed?

It wasn't long before both men's movements began speeding up. You whined pathetically, trying to keep up. Granted, they were both sensitive from the previous rounds, but so were you.

You began bouncing your ass on Seonghwa, while simultaneously gulping on Hongjoong. The three of you let out increasingly loud sounds that echoed around the room; Hongjoong's grunting, Seonghwa's frantic pants, and your desperate sobs. They blended together with the sounds of skin slapping and slurping to form a melody, one so lewd yet so exquisite, merely listening to it would be as good as taking an aphrodisiac.

Soon enough, Hongjoong climaxed, hot cum so thick and copious that some leaked out the sides of your mouth. You hit your third orgasm of the night, body convulsing at the overstimulation. Seonghwa came last, his breath hitching as he jerked his hips one more time into your cunt. Your mouth slipped off Hongjoong's dick, and you let your head fall back onto your boyfriend's shoulder. You dazedly swallowed the remaining cum on your tongue, making sure to make eye contact with Hongjoong in the process. You didn't bother to get off Seonghwa's dick, opting to sit on it and bask in the warmth that was his milky release leaking out of your used cunt.

The 3 of you panted heavily for a few minutes, clearly still processing one of, if not the best orgasm any of you had ever shared with another person. In this case, your first orgasm that you'd shared with 2 other very attractive people. You eventually spoke up, getting the attention of both men.

“Did… Did I do good for both of you?”

Seonghwa and Hongjoong turned your way, with a wobble in your voice you asked - struggling with your throat from the amount of dick you've taken.

“Good? Fuck, baby, we're high on you.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa unexpectedly spoke at the same time, making you giggle at how in sync they were. Seonghwa glanced up at Hongjoong, who was still coming down from his high.

“You finally relaxed, man?”

“Mm, yeah, Joongie, you were the whole reason we even did this…” you trailed off, pushing your hair out of your face gently.

“You bet I am,” Hongjoong sighed contentedly, before adding on, “Fuck, I don't even feel like going back to work anymore.. “

“Then I'd better not find any more weed in my couch! You have something else to think about, now.”

Hongjoong's eyebrows raised at your remark - disappearing into his sweaty bangs - surprised by your energy level.

“Aren't you exhausted?? You just took 2 dicks, you should be knocked out by now.'' Seonghwa chuckled at Hongjoong's remark, swiping his hand across your sweaty back.

“Oooo, he's got a point, sweetheart…I bet you could go for another round~”

You groaned and pulled off of Seonghwa, throwing yourself onto the other side of the bed. You pulled the sheets tight over your body, but not before shoving a pillow at the two men.

“Forget it!! You guys are mean. I think Joong rubbed off on you, Hwa!” You whined, clenching your thighs tightly- fluids still dripping from your core, despite the urge to roll over from the men - Seonghwa was already tilting towards you. Lightly palming your hip with a grin.

“Come on sweetheart, let's get you washed up."

Author's note:

Omgomg my first ever collab with another writer ahhh 🙌 the two of us worked very hard on this fic!! I hope you enjoyed it <33

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