#OF COURSE I HAD TO MAKE SOMETHING FOR IT!

[todomochi-uwu]

Is there any way I could repay you?

Pairing(s): Luffy x reader; Zoro x reader; Sanji x reader; Ace x reader; Law x reader Genre: Smut Warnings: This content is for a mature audience Synopsis: Is there any way you could repay them? Author's notes: I love @inseobts layout for their fics so I decided to use something similar. I've never worked with this style, I hope you guys enjoy it. I'm also right around the corner of Marineford and I feel like dying since Ace is my favourite character. So, indulge me. Masterlist If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee

Luffy 

Your fridge broke down a couple of hours ago. 

You had tried everything and anything to make it work, but the piece of shit wouldn’t budge (it’s also old af). 

On your way to ask anyone if they knew someone who could repair it, you stumbled into the gum boy. 

"Oh, hello, neighbour!"  

"Oh shit, that sucks, but don't worry, I can fix it. How hard can it be?" 

He wouldn’t fix shit, but he would try (or in a stroke of luck he just might). 

Let’s say, by some miracle, he does. 

You’d spent hours watching him work. He had taken his jacket off, a white tank top underneath. 

Getting a little sweaty, tongue poking out in concentration. 

You had ogled for a good hour to two, and no, he hadn’t even noticed. 

He would groan in frustration when he couldn’t manage to get it to work. 

“Stupid, fucking thing.” 

You delivered small treats for his trouble: a lemonade, a sandwich, and a bowl of ramen he was craving. 

“Fucking finally!” 

“Thank you so much, Luffy! Is there any way I can repay you? 

Yeah, remember when I said he hadn’t noticed you ogling? Well, he did. 

And that’s how you found yourself bent over the kitchen floor, being pounded to the nines, crying out like bitch in heat with a pizza slice resting in your back. 

“Fuck, Luffy! Don’t stop, don’t stop." Spit dribbled down your mouth, and your fingers gripped the floor, desperately to hold onto anything that would ground you. 

Behind you was Luffy, who panted in between taking bites out of his pizza, “You are so tight.” The grip of his hands on your love handles would surely leave a nasty bruise, but that was the least of your worries. 

Zoro 

You had just come back from work, the only thing you wanted was to take a shower. 

Of course, the fucking thing wasn’t working. 

You had tried everything, from hitting it with a hammer to twisting the handles to yelling at it. 

No idea how to fucking fix it. 

You texted the landlord, but he said he won't be able to fix it until tomorrow. 

And you need a shower NOW. 

Just when you were to knock on your chef neighbour's door, he appeared.  

Sweaty, towel around his neck, and sporting a really tight compression chest. Zoro popped one ear out of his headphones, “Curly brow's not home.” 

“Shit, my shower is not working, and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“That’s happened to me before. Let me check it out." 

Now you have another issue: the wet patch that formed in your panties after you watched the handyman check out your shower.  

His strong back muscles faced you, flexing and moving while inspecting the problem. 

He would cuss under his breath and groan every time his methods wouldn’t work. 

This angle also gave you a great view of his ass. He had clearly worked for it. 

Your head fantasized about what would happen if you were to bend to your knees in front of him, pull his pants down and take his cock in between... 

“Shit!” He had fixed it. Water splashed onto your floor, but not before soaking him. If you thought that shirt was already see-through enough... 

“Oh god, let me get you a towel.” Or maybe you could dry up the water with your tongue. Everyone wins, right? 

“Thank you so much, Zoro! Is there any way I could repay you?” 

And that’s how you found yourself just the way you imagined. Choking on his cock, tears running down your face, and gags escaping your throat. 

“Yeah, keep sucking that dick”, His hips thrust against your mouth, pushing his member further down, making you gag. Your nails biting the skin of his thighs, trying to balance yourself, but never wanting him to stop. You looked up at him, that lazy smirk and the way his tongue licked his lips made you dizzy. 

You sucked your cheeks in, running your tongue against the thick vein that ran down his member. His grip on your hair let you know you were doing something right, "I’m going to ruin you for anyone else, baby.” 

Sanji 

It was your grandma's birthday tomorrow, so you decided to bake her a cake. 

Shit, the fucking oven isn’t turning on. 

You have the batter ready to bake it will spoil if you don’t do something about it, right? 

Oh, how convenient, your neighbour is a chef. 

(Never mind he is blow-minding hot. What? Who said that?) 

"Hey, neighbour. I’m so sorry to bother you, but would you mind if I borrow your oven?" 

He would never no to a sweet little thing like you, but pushing your tits out as you showed him the ramekin didn’t harm anyone. 

Would do all the work for you, even going as far as fixing your recipe. 

You watch his hands the entire time. 

He had folded his sleeves so you could see the veins that covered his arms. 

“Open up, I want to see if it’s sweet enough.” 

He pushed the frosting-covered spoon against your lips. 

And, gladly, you took it. Looking into his eyes while covering your tongue with the thick substance. 

He gulped. 

Amazing what watching a man decorate a cake can do for your libido 

"There, it is all done for your grandma's birthday." The result was far better than anything you could have ever done.  

“Thank you so much, Sanji! Is there any way I could repay you?” 

And that’s how you found yourself laying tits up, nipples covered in the leftover frosting and the chef’s head in between your legs. 

"Oh, my god, Sanji." He’s got you cross-eyed while his tongue laps against your sweet cunt. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking it and licking it while his fingers piston in and out of your entrance. 

He lets out moans and whimpers, you’ve got him pussy drunk, and the only thing on his mind is making you cum again and again on his tongue, “You taste so sweet, mon cœur.” 

Ace 

Your heater had broken down in the middle of the fucking winter. 

No matter how many sweaters and jackets you wore, you still couldn't feel your fingers. 

You had messaged your landlord hours ago, but oh, surprise, surprise, he never answered. 

You were walking down to the elevator, about to go out and get some hot chocolate, when he saw you. 

“Hey, neighbour!” It was minus two fucking degrees outside, but this man was in a tank top and shorts (to be fair, it would be a crime to hide those arms) 

“Oh my god, are you okay? Your lips are blue!” “Your heater broke? Maybe I can help!” The optimism and overconfidence run in his family, if you can’t tell. 

He took a look at the thing, and Lord knows how, but he melted it. 

“Uh, umm, uh...” Indeed. 

He spent the next couple of hours trying to fix what he had done on top of the main issue. 

He would bite and lick his lips, eyebrows furrowed, focused. 

His frustrated groans belonged in a porno. 

“Fuck.” He would whisper occasionally. 

Like his little brother, Ace would also appreciate the food you’d offer. 

“This pie is so good! Did you really bake this?” He licked his thumb, savouring the rest of the sweet filling. 

What that mouth do. 

You don’t know how or what the fuck he did, but he did fix it. 

“There! You stupid shit!” 

“Thank you so much, Ace! Is there any way I could repay you?” 

And that’s how you found yourself backwards riding his cock on your couch. The cold had abandoned your body, and now you felt like you were burning with his hard chest against your back and his fingers toying with your aching clit. 

“Ace!” You moaned his name; it was the only thing that your mouth managed to say. Your brain had turned to mush the second he stuck his dick inside you. His hands pushed your hips up and down; his hips pounded you into oblivion, his dick reaching places your fingers (or frankly, any other dick) never could. 

“You like that, baby girl?” He said against your ear, his teeth pulling on your earlobe. He laughed, amused by your cock-drunkenness. He slapped your clit, making you jump and gasp, throwing you over the edge, “You don’t need no heater, baby. I am the heat now.”  

Law   

You were stupid, and you cut yourself while making a fruit bowl. yeah.  

While it wasn’t a deep wound, it did sting, and blood kept coming out.  

Trying to be very careful, to not hurt yourself any further or stain even more things.  

You bump into him. 

First, he looks at you, annoyed and then notices the blood on your hand.  

“Tch, that looks bad.” Yeah, you think?  

He grabs your hand, carefully, inspecting the cut.  

His eyebrows furrowed, twisting your wrist, his skin is a bit rough, and the tattoos in his hands make you want to ask him if he was willing to choke you. 

(You had seen this man once or twice in your life, barely knew his name, and already you are thinking about sticking his fingers in your mouth, get yourself together.) 

“It’s not that deep, but you might wanna clean it. Come.” Gladly.  

And just like that, you were inside this man’s apartment.  

Score? 

His place smells like a clinic, it’s almost funny the fact he has a penguin and polar bear plush on the couch.  

He pulls out his medical kit and begins cleaning the wound. The sudden sting makes you flinch.  

“Don’t move.” He commands, and you obey. No idea who this man is, but if he were to ask you to bend over, you probably would. Yeah, common sense leaves the room when it comes to dick. His dick.  

“There. Next time, try to pay attention to what you are doing.” Rude... you were listening to a true crime podcast, and it was just getting good.  

“Thank you so much, Law! Is there any way I could repay you?”  

And that’s how you found yourself, face pressed against the surface of his desk and fingers pumping in and out of your cunt. Your juices are dripping down and wetting every document and book, but he doesn’t seem to mind.  

“Law, please, please.” You don’t even know what you are begging for; he’s giving you everything you want, and more. His fingertips brush against the walls inside you, his thumb rubs and plays with your clit, while his other hand spanks you and pushes your head harder against the wood.  

He pulls his fingers out for a second, right when he feels you are clenching harder against them, “Quiet now. Don’t want the neighbours knowing how much of a slut the girl next door is.” He spanks your right cheek. Yeah, he isn't letting you cum, at least not right now.   

[rafesangelita]

So I just read after hours with dilf rafe and I NEED a fic for the next day aka the day spend at the country club, I am so curious to see how bitchy!kook!reader and the kids interact!

warnings: none really just some fluff <3

a/n: read ‘after hours with dilf!rafe’ here ! and read more about bitchy!kook!reader and dilf!rafe’s dynamic here ♡ also just for reference, i’m envisioning rafe has two kids in this fic; one girl who’s eleven years old, and one boy who’s five years old

you were still getting used to being around rafe’s kids, having never had any siblings of your own, you were learning how to interact with them by watching how they talked to each other and studying them the best way you could. what made them laugh? what kind of stuff did they like talking about? what kind of things did rafe get after them for? rafe could see how devoted you were to getting to know them and he loved that you had opened yourself up to not only letting him love you, but his children as well. despite this whole thing being new to you, you were a doing a damn good job.

everyone was currently at the country club, rafe and his son out on the golf course, and you and his daughter sitting comfortably underneath the shade at a table not too far away, both of you sharing a mocktail as she let you in on all the fifth grade gossip. “she told everyone that i copied her party theme but i had already been planning my birthday party for months! and of course everyone believed her because she threw her’s first..” you scoffed, shaking your head at the pure audacity.

“as if you needed the inspiration,” you rolled your eyes, “people— especially girls in competition with you, are always going to find something to grab onto, whether it be your party theme, your style, your personality.. you just have to remember as long as you’re true to yourself in a world full inauthentic people, they’re always going to try and take what you come up with, so the best thing you could do is just pick your friends wisely and don’t surround yourself with absolutely everyone. that’s what i did, and now i only have bestest friends in my circle.”

she looked at you like she was having an epiphany, her eyes slightly wide as she pondered over your words. “wow, that’s probably like the best advice i’ve ever gotten.” she hummed, taking a sip from the virgin piña colada in your hand. rafe smiled to himself, having heard your entire exchange. “you know what that means?” you asked with a teasing smile, “we’ll just have to throw you a bigger and better party next year.” rafe felt his heart stir at the mention of ‘we’— the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he cleared his throat.

drawing your attention to rafe and his son, you saw the way his little cheeks were bright red from the blazing sun beating down on him, his hair sticking to his forehead as he swung his miniature club the way rafe taught him. “ray!” you called after the little boy, “come get you some water, let’s take a little break real quick.” without hesitation, baby ray dropped the club and ran straight into your lap where you held the ice cold water bottle up for him to drink from. rafe all but melted at the sight, the corner of his lips twitching as he watched the you smiled down at his boy.

helping his daughter up from her seat, he fixed her in his lap so he could sit next to you, his lips coming down to plant a kiss on your temple. ray pulled away from the water bottle with a gasp, his legs working to climb up so he could give you a kiss too. you just about died when you felt his lips on your cheek, your arms wrapping around the little boy as he rested his head on your chest. “so what do you feel like eating for lunch?” rafe asked his daughter, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she leaned back against his chest. “why don’t we go back home and make something? y/n made these super good sandwiches yesterday and she took the crust off.”

rafe laughed, looking over at you to make sure you were okay with making the kids something to eat. “i can definitely do that, how about this time i show you how to do it so you can make them whenever you want?” at your words, she nodded frantically, shooting up to her feet and tugging on rafe’s arm so all of you can leave. laughing softly at her excitement, you adjusted ray on your hip before you and rafe followed her out of the country club gates. helping rafe put ray in his booster seat, you put his seatbelt on before booping his nose and shutting the door. “hey—” rafe stopped you as you were rounding the truck to get to your side, “you’re doing amazing with them.”

[hyoer]

Project: Get Over Bob

pairing. Bob Reynolds x reader

synopsis. Bob likes someone that’s not you and now it's up to you to begin Project Get Over Bob.

warnings. no use of y/n, not much angst right now, reader pining for Bob but pushing it all down!! Bob breaking my little y/n's heart.

word count. 2.7k.

Bob Reynolds was many things, but one thing he wasn’t, was subtle.

You knew it.

He knew it.

Everyone knew it.

So when he started batting his eyelashes at the owner of the local bookstore, you knew that you might have to get rid of your crush.

You and Bob had known each other now for at least a year, and had fallen into the perfect morning routine.

You’d wake up at 7am, stumble your way into the kitchen, knocking on everyone’s doors as you went. Of course, Ava, Bucky, and Walker would have already left for training, but it was nice to cause a bit of ruckus so early in the day. You’d pop some coffee on and by the time it brewed, Bob would be sitting at the island in the middle of the room with a grin and an extra Splenda packet for you.

But today?

Today, he was nowhere to be found.

“Coffee for me?”  Yelena asked as she wiggled her brows at you.

You smiled and scoffed “Knock yourself out”

“Have you seen my bowie knife, I think I left it in the sink but I came to grab it last night and it was gone.” She whined, her bottom lip jutting out in such a cute way you couldn’t help but grin and pinch her cheeks.

“You left your disgusting dirty knife in the sink?!! We practically EAT out of there”  Walker shouts.

“We don’t eat out of the sink stupid”

“Well, if we’re washing our dishes in the sink and we eat off of them then – yeah – we do”

“So what? You decided to throw my knife away because of that??”

Yelena’s accusation turns John bright red, the two bickering and throwing insults around at a rapid pace.

While those two are enthralled in a ‘spirited debate’  Ava and Bucky stroll in. The latter animatedly mimicking what you think? is some kind of old-school wrestling move. Bucky suddenly tunes into the two blondes’ argument, starts to smirk and you raise a brow at his reaction. His wink back was enough evidence that he definitely had something to with the disappearance of Lena’s knife.

Yeah, you need to learn how to rage bait effectively from the centurion.

The elevator chimes and you all turn to see Bob waving, carrying a very nice smelling paper bag which you can only hope are filled with some almond doughnuts from Supermoon.

You open your mouth to say something, until a small figure comes out from behind him. Long black hair, big eyes and-and wait it’s the lady from the bookstore?

You’d spoken to her before and honestly, she was lovely, super smart and made your day every time you stepped foot to her store. She'd recommended Dante's Inferno to you when you’d ask for an all-time classic so obviously you had to love her. You liked her so much you’d even taken her email so you both could discuss you guys’ excitement for the new Odyssey film.

And now here she was, the kind woman from the store clinging onto Bob’s side.

All you could see was his hand, Bob’s hand, your Bob’s hand covering hers so tenderly.

The way he did with you.

Everyone’s gaze seemed to zero in on you and your reaction.

“Hey guys um Lily and I are heading to the game room, you-you guys are welcome to join, we’re watching ‘The Shining’!” God, the way his eyes shifted to hers in such a soft way, assuring her that she was welcome here, killed you.

He stares at you for a moment; you know Bob was looking for some comfort from you, that yes he's made a good choice in finally trying to live a normal life.

Through your shock you pull yourself together, give a thumbs up and wink, mouthing the words ‘she’s cute’. You heart may be breaking but you care for him too much to not support something that makes him so obviously happy.

You can see him visibly relax and as the others rally to greet Lily a sudden flurry of steps from Alexei stole the group’s attention. The large leather clad (you’d have to have a conversion to him about the concept of lounge wear) man claps his hands together as he caught sight of the two in the doorway.

“Finally Bob, you ask Lily to come here. You know he asked me over and over and over advice on how to charm pretty woman with shop” he says, turning to the group with a smile on his face.

Yelena places her hand in the small of your back and glares at Alexei, the man looking absolutely bewildered at the others’ reaction to what he thinks is the best news he’d heard all week.

“So.. you both are together or –“ John questions, shooting an inquisitive look between the two.

“We haven’t really, well, haven’t put a label on it yet, we’re just hanging out, right-right?” he turns to face her, and every inch of her face lights up as she laughs.

“Yeah, this is his audition for boyfriend”, nudging him in a familiar way.

They’d only known each other a month why were they suddenly so buddy-buddy?

Ava, as kind as ever, decides to change the subject, asking about the team’s plans for next month’s mission. You hear the words safe-house and horses but can’t bring yourself to care.

The lovebirds take this as their cue to leave and Bob gives you a soft smile as he walks away with someone that’s not you.

Ok.

Time to get over Robert Reynolds once and for all.

Phase 1

You decided to split Project Get Over Bob into 4 phases = fill up your timetable and become busy - stop hanging out with Bob – stop thinking of Bob – reach the ultimate nirvana and make yourself invisible to him.

Ok, well the phases were vaguely something like that.

Simple right?

Phase 1 was easy; you’d used the guise of a new hobby (jiu-jitsu) as an excuse to be out of any kind of common area or team activity. Claiming to the team during the monthly debrief that you had to know the sport as an effective cover for your mission.

So, while half of your day was taken up by morning classes and sparring in the afternoon with Lena and Buck, there was still the entirety of the evening to deal with.

You and Bob spent most evenings cooking dinner, filling reports to send off to Mel and watching shitty French arthouse films until you were both knocked out for the day. This had to stop.

Ottolenghi could wait, you thought to yourself as you booted up your laptop and found the perfect pottery class that was on the other side of the city and about 2 hours long.

“Are you trying to replace all of our plates?” a voice says from behind you, causing you to jump and almost drop the drink you were holding in your free hand.

“Jesus John, learn to make some noise when walking into a room!”

Walker jumps over the sofa landing snuggly next to you, he reeks of sweat nothing too bad but you wrinkle your nose in faux disgust.

“You smell awful did you roll around in dirt before you got here or what”

“I’ll have you know I beat Bucky and Alexei while sparring today, hence the sweat”

You look at him incredulously. There was no way that Walker could beat them 1 v 2. Sure, he was strong he’d managed to rough you up plenty of times but James had the fancy hydra serum and well Alexei was just out of his mind Russian so how did the so called ‘second rate’ captain America manage to beat them?

As if catching onto your line of thought John grabs your head and brings his arm around your neck, playfully tickling you with the other. Your burst out in giggles, gasping and shouting at him to let you go.

While he has you in a headlock without mercy Lily and Bob walk in.

Their conversation stalls as Bob lays his eyes on the two of you messing around.

Walker straightens up and you stare at him confused with the immediate shift in behaviour.

“What are you both doing?” he questions his voice tight and his hands clenched at his sides.

“John managed to best the two greatest super soldiers on earth, apparently. I personally don't believe it” you state while winking in Lily’s direction. She holds her mouth with her palm, attempting to hide her laugh.

“Anyway, I’ve got some work to catch up on so I’ll see you guys later”,  you clap your hands while standing up and shuffle out of the room, bidding goodbye to them all.

Bob looks at your retreating figure, both John and Lily staring at him snaps him out of his daze and he leads her to the lab downstairs.

You couldn’t wait to leave the room, Bob’s reaction made no sense to you. You knew he was always slightly awkward with Walker but they had hashed out whatever issues they had months ago, so why was he so annoyed with him today?

The rest of the week goes by with you keeping as busy as possible, you can count on one hand how many times you’d even seen Bob and you wanted to keep it that way.

You told yourself all you had to do was make it to week 4, and you would be off to Mongolia with Alexei and Walker for at least 2 months, and by then the Bob-shaped hole in your heart would be filled up and pasted over.

Phase 2

All you needed to do for phase 2 of your plan was to wean yourself off the drug that was Bob. The aforementioned drug was not making it easy for you, even though you’d changed your habits, he hadn’t.

Every day he would wake up even earlier than usual and make your favourite breakfast of blueberry pancakes and an iced black coffee, leaving it on the counter closest to the elevator. He would stand next to your breakfast, almost militant in ensuring you ate every last bit because how else would you have enough energy for jiu-jitsu? He was so happy that you had decided to take on a new hobby and put yourself out there, you deserved to have fun so of course he wanted to show his support in any way he could.

You’d then decided to take the stairs around the back so you could avoid him but ��he’d taken to waiting by reception with your breakfast in a small tin, like a wife waving her husband off for work. Was Bob your wife?

Never mind.

You’d decided to forgo even more sleep and join John in his 4am gym sessions, leaving for class after sparing with the super solider that spent 2 hours kicking your ass so hard that by the time you got to class you were aching.

At least it had limited your conversations with Bob.

One other problem needed to be solved.

Bob’s night terrors were almost daily and before Erica-gate you had allowed him to come to your room, he’d nestle himself into your sofa, you would wake up sometime after and speak to him until he felt at ease at which point he would whisper goodnight and tip toe back to his own bed.

You knew deep down that he only came to your room because it was closest to his, the comfort of your sofa was the most alluring part to him, you guess. It was bigger than Bucky’s, way softer than whatever the hell John had stuffed in his room, cleaner than Ava’s and Alexei and Yelena had declined any kind of comforts in their rooms so that wasn’t an option for him.

Bob loved your room.

So you would need to change your room.

It had to be sneaky, the others were already pestering you about changing your training timetable, but a big change like this would arouse suspicion from Bob. Maybe a burst pipe would be best.

You knelt next to your sink, gripping the hammer you’d stolen from the construction team plastering the entrance of the tower after an unfortunate parking incident at the hands of Yelena. You weren’t worried about the sound of you brutally slamming the hammer to the pipe, you’d forced Valentina to sound proof everyone’s bathrooms out of fear the others would hear you screaming your lungs out to Dionne Warwick every morning.

One final hit and water exploded across the room, soaking the floor and walls. Within minutes, the water seeped into the carpet of your room and once you were satisfied you changed out of your wet clothes and temporarily disposed of the hammer under your bed.

Running out your room you shouted for Ava – she was always locked in her room, tinkering away at her next project- you asked her to call maintenance up and with that phase 2 was well on its way.

The team sans Bob gathered round your room door as the very kind man who had fixed up your bathroom informed you and Mel that the flooring would need to be replaced because of the risk of Mold.

You struggled to hide your joy at the success of your plan so turned your face to grin at yourself. Quickly turning back and putting on a concerned face as you ‘brainstormed’ a solution to your-self inflicted dilemma.

 Ava tutted loudly as the group discussed where you would be staying. She locked eyes with you and gave you a look you couldn’t figure out, you’d have to chase her up on that later.

“Could I have the room next to you Buck?” his was the furthest from yours and would provide a respite from the man that you were attempting to avoid.

“Yeah course kid, need a hand with your stuff?”

You both spent the day moving every single item in your room into the one at the end of the hall, there wasn’t even a speck of dust that could have been traced back to you.

As you brought the last box out of your room Bob rounded the corner. It had been a few days since you’d last spoken to the man and even the sight of his face felt like too much for you to handle. But ignoring him now would be cruel and it wasn’t like you were trying to punish the guy.

Right?

His hair was up in a clip, something he normally only did when at self-care night with you and the other girls, tucked into Lena’s covers with a hyaluronic face mask and a hot chocolate. You liked it, he’d normally have his hair covering his face but you like seeing him, all of him.

“What happened? Why-why is your room boarded up, did something happen-“

“A pipe burst so I had to switch to a different room” you shrugged. “Buck offered the one attached to his so-”

“What-what about the one next to mine?”

Shit.

You hadn’t really thought about a good excuse for that, obviously, the one next to his would be the more reasonable option but you quickly spit out a lie.

“I was considering it… but the view from the other side of the tower is so great at night! It’s nicer to have a view of Central Park than Goldman Sachs when I’m working”

He nods in understanding, “Oh ok that makes sense”  He stills for a moment, and it looks as if he may say something, but he stops himself.

You take advantage of his hesitation. “I’m pretty tired, I’m gonna turn in m’kay, see you around Bob”

“Yeah-yeah I’ll see you, goodnight”

You walk past him as quickly as possible without looking back; if you had, you would have seen the absolutely devastated look on his face.

Bob wasn’t stupid.

He’d been trying to get your attention for the past two weeks and he knew that you were working hard to prepare for your mission, but you always made time for him no matter what.

Bob decided he would get to the bottom of your strange mood, no matter what it took.

Hey guys, hope you like the fic so far, It’s my first time writing fanfiction and not consuming it so if anyone has any writing tips pls let me know!

[spaceyaemonds]

i can only imagine reader bringing in her chunky, ruddy cheeked baby with the softest freckles smattered across her rosy cheeks and big, round hazel eyes to the ER. her baby’s wispy auburn curls lightly fluttering as the reader bounces her in her arms to keep her calm in the noisy building. it’s shift change in the morning, so everyone from each shift is there. dana and samira notice the cute baby first, asking if she’s a patient and the reader brushes them off with a smile telling them that both she and her baby are fine and they’re just waiting for her boyfriend. and the look of shock on everyone’s faces when jack and his salt and pepper curls strolls over to the much younger woman and scoops the chubby baby that looks suspiciously like him up into his strong arms 💞💞

hi friend!!!!

omg i love love love this😭😭😭

Mohan notices them first, the young woman and her cute baby that looks almost familiar, and if she had to guess was around nine months old. They both seem content. Or at least she does, the baby is clinging onto her, eyes dropping as she fights off sleep.

Though they seem fine, she can’t help but be concerned.

“Dana?”

The blonde looks up at the doctor, “Yeah?”

“Have they been helped?” She points in their direction.

Dana’s brow furrows, glancing at the board then down at the charts just to be sure. No one matching their description is currently in a room.

“No, I don’t think so,” She glances back over at them, watching as the baby blinks sleepily in their direction.

Mohan nods at Dana before walking over, gently placing her hand on the woman's shoulder to not startle her.

You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a hand on your shoulder, “Oh my goodness!”

“Oh my god!” You and the doctor that touched your arm jump at the same time.

You let out a light laugh when you look at her, “I’m sorry. You startled me,”

She nods, letting out a small laugh herself, “No, I’m sorry,” She shakes her head before smiling at you, “I just wanted to check on you, make sure you and your baby have been taken care of? Do you need a room to be examined?”

You quickly shake your head, “Oh! No, we’re waiting on my boyfriend. Are we in the way?”

Her brow furrows, and you bite your lip, wondering if you should have just waited in the car.

“No, of course you guys aren’t in the way,” She glances at the baby who has started fussing slightly and moving around a little more. “If you want, I can go find him for yo-“

Before she can finish, your daughter attempts to launch herself out of your arms.

“Hey, you,” Mohan looks up, eyes landing on Dr. Abbot, who, to her surprise, gently takes the baby from you during what is her second attempt at launching herself at him.

“Have you been good for mommy? Huh?” Again, she is taken aback by the night attendings familiarity with this child.

She’s left standing there awkwardly when he pulls you close and kisses your head. “You have an easy night?”

You laugh, shaking your head no, “She has another tooth coming in, so we’ve been up alllll night. Huh, baby?”

He smiles fondly as you answer him but talk to her.

Jack finally notices Samira, “Dr. Mohan, can I help you with something?”

Her eyes widen, and she quickly shakes her head no, “Oh! No, I just saw them standing here and wanted to make sure they didn’t need anything, is all,”

She glances between him and the baby, who she can now see is nearly identical to him, “So, you guys know each other?”

Your eyes widen slightly, a small laugh threatening to leave your mouth at the deadpan look on Jack’s face.

He looks at the baby, smiling at her, “Well, Dr. Mohan, what would your observation be?”

[tojisteddy]

i just love with all my life the meanie!simon and the daddy!kink, those are the perfect combination and i wish i could ask if i can have one on simon calls reader puppy, because of puppy love (yes the music 🤧🤍) and hes mean but just so sweet with the reader...

who is a loyal baby but also so sensitive and emotional about everything, and of course about daddy si ♡><

Where the Wild Things Are | cw: 18+ mdni, no smut, pure fluff, puppy!reader, daddy kink, meanie!simon, dd!lg

Simon was taking an important call, which meant it was your job to sit still and wait so you could find whatever else items you wanted before heading home.

Problem was, you got impatient. Just a little impatient. Maybe a lottle-impatient.

“Just fuckin fix it! I don’t fuckin need to be there for everything! Bloody hell!”

You flinched a bit and Simon mumbled a sorry towards you, immediately turning and scuffing to the person on the phone. “No, why the fuck would I be sorry to you…”

You glanced over from where you stood, the morning market. Well it wasn’t exactly morning anymore, 11 am, but still. There were a lot of venders, a lot of people, and a lot of food. Delicious smelling food from all over. You glanced at Simon, still occupied, and back at the food stall a couple yards over, practically calling your name with its free samples.

Getting one wouldn’t hurt, you’d be right back. You swore.

You quickly went to go try a bite, tasting it and groaning with satisfaction. Making sure to grab Simon one, but then another stall a little ways away had samples— you had to make sure the quality was up to par or something, right?

Your civic duty!!

Simon glanced behind him and you’d practically vanished out of thin air. He almost wants to tell the man he’s on the phone with him that he’s a dumb cunt and he should go shove his foot so far up his ass it comes out his mouth— but his eyes finally find you after a couple minutes. Dashing over all excited, tiny cups of food in your hands and a smile as bright as the sun. God, you were so gorgeous is hurt.

You almost zoomed right past him till he caught your wrist, dragging you into his chest. He was yelling at someone still.

“ ‘nd I have to go ‘nd fix it!? I just got back for fucks sake!” There’s a murmur on the other end you can’t hear.

“Daddy, you’re yelling.” You chided quietly, it’s already a little loud with the bustling of people. It makes your ears hurt. You’d rather not hear Simon yell but he continues with the conversation like he’s not holding onto you. He’s ignoring you, isn’t he? Maybe coming to the market was dumb and he was trying to keep you occupied.

That’s not true.

But it felt like it. Just a little bit.

You can feel your eyes get glassy, your breathing changing just enough to catch Simons attention. He hangs up the call with a grumble of, ‘fuck off.’

“Christ swee’art, what’s happened?” He’s quick to comfort you, no matter if you feel silly because you know yourself. You have a lot of emotions and they wash over you so quickly, but Simons there for you. Always.

“Just-“ you sniffle, waving your free hand in your eyes so no tears shed, “—Thought you were ignoring me.”

“Course not baby, had somethin to handle, you understand don’t you?”

Your shoulders slouch, a huff, “I understand.” You always do. Didn’t mean you liked it. It was your time with Simon above all else. The focus should be you and him. Well— Simons attention on you. But you wouldn’t say that.

“And ya can’t just wander off without tellin me lovie, was worried. You know I don’t like tha do I?”

“No sir, but there were samples and I wanted one! I got one for you cause the first was so good and then I ended up going to another and then the one next to it had ice cream, there were so many stalls and they even had halal and pizza samples and-“ there’s a snap in your face that makes you blink a few times.

“-Where’s your head at?” And Simons not asking to be rude. He’s asking to make sure you truly recognize where you are, who you’re with, why you’re doing what you’re doing.

You get lost, a lot. Distracted easily, sensitive to sounds— it’s a lot. But Simon can get a hold of you by keeping you calm. Quiet down the tornados that your brain tends to have.

“Pup?”

“I’m with you Si.” You nod, looking at him in the eyes, head high.

“Good.”

You rock in your converses before handing him the samples in your hand, a small smile of your face, “These are yours.”

You two end up walking again through the market, hand in hand, you glance over at him once— no, twice—

“Something wrong?” Simon doesn’t miss a beat.

You open your mouth for a second, hesitating but Simon nods for you to continue, and your blurt it out, “Was I rambling too much?”

“No doll, course not. Just got a little lost as all. Can ramble ‘s much as you want, just need to know where you’re goin. What point ya want t’ make.”

“And what if I don’t make a point? Or I cry too often or—“ your trail off, mind getting clouded yet again.

Your Simons sweet girl. His baby.

He simply presses your foreheads together, holding you close, finding your big mocha eyes looking back at him— fucking adorable.

“I’d listen to you talk my head off a thousand times over puppy, I love you, don’t I?” His voice is sickeningly sweet, you can hear his smile behind his mask.

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, the ends of your eyes crinkle, heat building beneath your skin. You can’t help but your heart starts beating a mile a minute, “I-I love you too!”

“Really now?” He’s more than amused with you, always is, can’t help but want to see that little brain of yours work when he teases you. Just a bit.

“I do! Really, I do!” You squeak out, a pout forming on your lips. Did he not believe you? How could you show him? Your minds racing already, your words can’t catch up.

He lifts your chin up with a finger, blue eyes dancing with delight, “You do, what?”

Oh, silly you. Just a little forgetful. You want to look away but you’re stuck looking at him, his handsome face so close to yours— you grin.

“I love you, Daddy.”

It just itches something in Simons brain juuuust right, his sweet baby—

“Good girl puppy.”

a/n: so sorry this took so long but I had so much fun writing it!! That’s for the request anon!! I definitely listened to puppy love while writing this. Puppy reader is a little ball of energy in my eyes. I hope you liked it, lmk what you think.

most recent masterlist.

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱<3: @bruisedfig @tessakate @sevikasblackgf @mocha-the-muse @nightfwn @mims900 @lillybunni

[swanlikely]

Caleb's Love Languages!

Author's Note: Caleb is my favorite (obviously) and it only felt right that he’d be the first in this little love language series. He’s just so ugh?!! Check out the artist! (Artist & Original Post)

✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖✧₊🦢🫖₊

Cold hand, warm heart: Caleb’s metal hand might be cool to the touch, but he always uses it to cup your face when you’re tired or hold your waist when he’s guiding you through a crowd. He claims it’s because it “calms your nervous system,” but he also loves how you lean into it every time.

Food = love: He’s always cooking for you. Always. If he’s not home, there’s something labeled in the fridge (with a heart drawn next to it, of course). If you mention craving something in passing, you’ll find it on your plate the next day. You once said his cooking was better than any five-star restaurant. He hasn’t shut up about it since.

You talk, he listens: Caleb remembers everything you say; even when it seems like he’s not paying attention. You mentioned once that your favorite flower is out of season? He’ll find a way to get it anyway. You like your water with lemon? He’s already set it down before you ask.

Little helper, big show-off: He insists on doing the heavy lifting. Carries all the groceries. Changes your light bulbs. Reaches every tall shelf. And sure, it’s helpful, but it’s also an excuse. You catch him glancing at you while he’s hoisting something heavy, looking goofy as hell. “Go on, say it,” he’ll tease. “Tell me I’m strong.”

He brags. Just a little. Just for the praise: Caleb doesn’t boast much, but when it comes to you, he gets so smug. “Pips said I’m the best cook she’s ever had.” “My girl can’t sleep without my hand on her.” It’s obnoxious. Well, it’s actually kind of cute; like he’s proud of how well he loves you.

Overall: Acts of Service (Giving) & Words of Affirmation (Receiving)

You never have to ask twice. Or once. He just does things. Keeps your car topped up. Fixes the crooked picture frame. Gets the oil changed. It’s how he says I love you, I see you, I’ve got you. And he loves being needed.

“This is sweet but you don’t have to do all this, you know,” you tell him one morning, as he ties your shoes because you’re still half-asleep. As he fusses with the laces, you reach down and run your fingers through his soft brown hair. He smiles.

“I know,” he says simply, without looking up. “But you let me.”

And that’s what makes him happy.

[celabi]

𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐎

sae + kaiser + shidou + ness + rin + isagi + nagi + reo x f reader

sae makes the bed before he leaves.

he wakes up early. before the sun, before the world stirs, before even the first of his four alarms has the chance to buzz. he’s built like that, disciplined with every second accounted for. training waits for no one, and sae itoshi doesn’t wait either.

he moves quietly in the mornings, all silent footsteps and half lidded yawns, the kind of stillness that comes from years of knowing exactly what needs to be done. his body remembers before his mind even catches up, coffee, stretches, get dressed.

but you, of course, are the exception to every one of his carefully constructed habits. the small detour in his list.

you’re still sprawled across the bed like a starfish, half wrapped in the duvet, cheek squished into his pillow with your mouth slightly open. your hair’s a mess, your legs are a messier tangle of limbs, and you’re wearing one of his hoodies that he brought three sizes too big.

you look ridiculous. soft and adorable, and sae hates how much it makes his heart ache.

he lets you sleep. he always lets you sleep.

but he also makes the bed every morning. no excuses. no matter what. even with you in it.

“move,” he murmurs, already tugging on one corner of the blanket, patting your hip with a touch that’s way gentler than his tone. “lift up.”

you groan, something inhuman and definitely not a real word. he sighs like this happens every morning. because it does.

“you’re drooling on my pillow. again.”

your hand flops up to smear half across your mouth, shielding your shame while you roll sluggishly to the side. sae takes the opportunity, quickly so you can resume your sleep, to fluff the pillow, tug the sheets flat, and fold a corner of the comforter neatly under your waist like a hotel staffer who somehow fell into domestic life.

“turn this way,” he mutters, nudging your shoulder. “no, the other way. blanket’s uneven.”

he’s all low grumbles and soft touches, moving you around like you’re made of glass. a frown tugs at his lips the whole time, but his hands are gentle, straightening and smoothing over the fabric like it matters more than it should.

when you’re finally cocooned the way he likes, snug, somewhat symmetrical, warm, he leans in and presses a quiet kiss to your temple. “sleep. i’ll be back before lunch.”

your voice is barely a whisper, slurred with sleep, muffled by the pillow. “bring food.”

he scoffs under his breath. “as long as you don’t get crumbs in my bed.”

you always do.

and he always brings your favorite snack anyway.

kaiser brings flowers for the whole family.

it started the first time he came over.

michael kaiser, self proclaimed egoist, golden boy of the field, the kind of guy who walked like the world owed him something and smiled like he already had it all, showed up at your front door with three bouquets in hand.

not one. not two. three.

he stood there like it was the most casual thing ever, shoulder leaned against the frame, grin a little too cocky, hair perfectly messy like he’d spent forever making it look like he didn’t try.

the first bouquet was for you, obviously. he handed it over with a dramatic little bow and a wink, the arrangement bold and romantic, soft pink peonies nestled between full, velvety red roses, tied together with a satin ribbon. classic. a little flashy, sure, but unmistakably him. he watched your expression like it was a match he was trying to win, waiting for your eyes to light up. and they did.

but then he straightened up and pulled out the second bouquet. a softer one, lavender, baby’s breath, white tulips. no over the top color this time, and handed it, with an almost sheepish smirk, to your mom.

“figured it’d be rude to only bring flowers for the prettiest girl here,” he said smoothly, voice dipped in charm. “so i brought some for the queen, too.”

your mom had blinked, surprised, and then laughed, soft and flustered while taking them from him and running off to find a vase.

and the third? that one was the smallest. the wrapping paper was cartoon themed, covered in stars and hearts. inside was tiny pops of bright color, mini sunflowers, marigolds, something dyed blue that probably wasn’t natural but was meant to be fun.

he crouched in front of your little sister to hand it to her directly, grinning that crooked, boyish grin that made him look five years younger.

“for the cutest princess i’ve ever seen.” he told her like it was a secret just for her. and when she covered her face and squealed, he only laughed and ruffled her hair, gentle and playful.

after that, it became routine.

evey time he came over, three beautiful bouquets.

he never made a show of it. didn’t brag, didn’t explain. he just slipped inside like he belonged there, bouquets in one hand, the other reaching for yours, eyes glinting with that same effortless confidence. like it was normal to charm your entire household on the way to your heart.

you’d tease him sometimes, grinning as you passed him in the hallway, whispering under your breath, “trying to win the whole family, michael?”

and he’d kiss your forehead, hands curling around your waist as he leaned in close enough that only you could hear him say,

“i already won yours. just making sure the rest of the kingdom approves.”

shidou paints your nails.

well, he demands to paint your nails. bursts into your room with a giant tote bag slung over his shoulder, overflowing with nail polish bottles, rhinestones in tiny plastic cases, glitter, mini uv lamps, and like, five different top coats he doesn’t even need. he’s grinning like he just looted a beauty supply store and got away with it. like you’re his first client of the day and he’s book out until next year.

“sit,” he commands, plopping onto the floor and patting his lap like it’s your throne. “it’s nail day, baby.”

you eye him warily, climbing down off the bed anyway. it’s shidou, after all, loud, explosive, a walking red flag with more red cards than you can count. chaos is in his blood. if anyone was going to spill nail polish on the carpet or glue rhinestones to your elbow by accident, it’d be him.

but the second you settle in his lap, legs across his, hands offered out in front of you like an offering, he changes.

his voice quiets. his grin softens.

he picks out a color, sometimes asking, sometimes deciding for you, and his brows pull together in focus as he opens the bottle. he holds your fingers delicately, like they’re something fragile, his thumb resting beneath yours while his other hand starts to paint.

and he’s good. surprisingly good. sure, his hands still twitch sometimes, years of high speed tackles and clenched fists leaving their mark, but his grip is steady when it counts. the polish goes on smooth, not a single smudge. and when you move, even just a little, maybe to breathe, maybe to say something, he immediately clicks his tongue.

“stop moving,” he mumbles, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration. “i’m trying to make you pretty.”

you lift a brow at him. “i’m already pretty.”

he snorts, but doesn’t look up. “duh. i’m just making you even more pretty.”

every time, he makes sure your nails match his, down to the last detail.

once it was matte black with silver tips. another time, pastel pink with little hearts he painstakingly dotted on with a toothpick. one week it was neon green flames and he called it your “power couple arc,” posing dramatically in front of your mirror like the two of you were about to drop a mixtape.

when he finishes, he always holds your hands up like they’re sacred. like he’s unveiling a work of art. his art.

“damn, we look good,” he says, eyes shining as he admires your matching sets. “wanna go push people over at the skating rink?”

you laugh. because how could you not?

and then he kisses your fingers, soft, almost gently, like the same mouth hasn’t yelled at a ref for twenty minutes or talked shit to half his team.

because yeah, shidou is a menace. reckless and violent and so unpredictable.

but when it’s just you and him, tangled up on the floor with glitter all over his sweatpants and your nails drying in the lamplight, he’s just a boy who likes painting your nails.

ness is always touching you.

dating him means you’re never really alone. not even for a second.

he doesn’t like space. not when it comes to you. even in silence, even when there’s no conversation to fill the gaps, his hands always find their way back to you, like they’re on autopilot, like his body’s forgotten how to exist without yours tethered to it.

you could be lying on the couch, half asleep, curled up on his chest while something plays on the tv that neither of you are really watching. the light flickers, scenes change, but his attention isn’t on the screen. it’s on the way your breathing evens out, the soft weight of your body against his, the warmth that seeps into his skin just from having you close.

and without hesitation, without even thinking, his hand slips beneath your shirt, not for anything suggestive. no teasing, no games. just to feel you. to trace slow, sleepy little circles against your spine with the pads of his fingers, like memorizing the shape of you helps him stay sane.

he always hums when he does it, something low and almost tuneless, head resting against yours, his eyes falling shut like he could fall asleep right then and there. because in that moment, you’re his. his anchor. his whole world slowed down into something soft and manageable.

out in public, he’s no different.

you’re standing in the middle of the freezer aisle at the store, trying to compare the price of two different brands of fish fingers, and ness is behind you, pressed flush against your back like he belongs there. both arms wrapped tightly around your waist, and then, as if that’s not close enough, he slides his hands into the pockets of your coat, lacing his fingers with yours even through the fabric.

“it’s cold…” he whispers, mouth brushing your ear, breath warm against your skin. but you know better. he’s not cold. he just missed touching you. he always does.

you barely flinch. you don’t even look up. because this? this is just ness being ness.

he gets twitchy when he can’t touch you.

not in a dramatic way, he doesn’t whine or throw a tantrum, but he fidgets. tugs gently at your sleeve, loops a finger through your belt, reaches for the hem of your hoodie and walks behind you with his hand curled in the fabric like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t keep that small connection.

he doesn’t say it, but you feel it. in every little squeeze. every tug. every time he absentmindedly rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, over and over and over.

and yeah, it’s cute. mostly.

a little clingy. a little possessive. maybe even too much, depending on who you ask.

you’ve caught him glaring at strangers before. people who bump into you too hard, who stare too long, who so much as brush against your shoulder in a crowd. he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a scene, but the way his jaw tightens, the way his grip on your hand gets firmer, it’s all there.

but then you look up at him and you smile. and all that tension melts.

because for him, nothing else matters when you’re smiling.

sometimes, completely out of nowhere, when his hand is resting on your hip or just under the hem of your shirt, he’ll whisper, “don’t pull away.”

his voice is soft, almost pleading.

“just let me hold you. please.”

and there’s something in it, something unspoken. like he really believes you’ll vanish if he lets go. like the world spins too fast and you’re the only thing that keeps him steady.

but you don’t mind.

because every circle he draws on your back with his fingertip, every hand slipped into your coat pocket, every gentle touch when no one’s looking, it’s his way of saying he loves you.

over and over again.

rin always buys you snacks.

his shopping cart always looks like a weird battle between someone who takes their training dead seriously and someone who eats like they’ve been left unattended in a convenience store.

he knows what he needs to buy as be steers through the aisles. he just grabs what he needs, checks the labels for protein content and sugar, and tosses it into the cart without checking the pricing.

protein powder that smells like chemicals but costs as much as three cartons of eggs. those energy drinks with ridiculous names like “focus rage” or “max charge” or “ultra zero venom”, like they’re going to give him superpowers. packs of plain grilled chicken. greek yogurt with zero fat, zero sugar, zero fun. rows of protein bars with chalky textures and flavor names that sound like lies.

he doesn’t even blink at the bland tastes. he just stocks up like a soldier prepping for war.

and then, every time, like it’s muscle memory, right before he heads to the checkout, he stops. just for a second.

his hand is on the cart handle, foot already starting to turn, but he doesn’t move. his eyes flick sideways toward the snack aisle.

he doesn’t sigh, doesn’t make much of a show of it. just slowly veers the cart over like it’s no big deal, like he didn’t just change course because something reminded him of you, and he’ll know you’ll get that craving at 2am when he’s trying to sleep.

and without a word, he reaches out and grabs the loudest, most obnoxiously colored bag of corn chips he can find. your favorite kind. the ones that leave orange dust on your fingers and taste like plastic and artificial flavouring. not baked, definitely not healthy, not even pretending to be good for you.

he doesn’t check the label, doesn’t pretend he might share them. he just tosses them into the cart along with all his high performance, peak athlete fuel like they belong there.

when back at his apartment, he unloads everything with his usual stiffness. lines up the cold stuff in the fridge like a little army, all color coded, and pushes the pantry door closed with his foot.

and then he sets the bag of chips on your side of the table. doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at you. just leaves them there, half buried under a bag of rice and a carton of eggs.

you always smile. sometimes say “thanks.” sometimes kiss his cheek. he always shrugs like it’s nothing.

“you forget to buy them,” he mutters, barely above a whisper. “so i remembered.”

his face stays neutral, but his ears go a little pink.

and that’s it. that’s all he says.

because he won’t admit it, not out loud. not yet. but he notices what you like. he pays attention, even when it looks like he’s not. and he remembers, every single time.

isagi dresses up nice for you.

he had always been a “throw on whatever’s clean” kind of guy. oversized hoodies, plain t shirts, soccer pants with grass stains, and the same pair of sneakers he wore everywhere, rain or shine. it wasn’t that he didn’t care about how he looked, he just never thought it mattered all that much. clothes were just… clothes. something to cover him up so he could get to practice, or the store, or wherever he needed to be without getting cold.

but that changed after he started dating you.

he still remembers one of your first dates. he showed up in his usual chill outfit, gray hoodie, joggers, no real thought behind it, and then he saw you. standing there waiting for him, looking like something out of a movie. skin glowing in the late afternoon light, your clothes were cute and put together, your scent soft and sweet as you leaned in for a hug.

and in that moment, isagi felt… underdressed. painfully so. like a side character in someone else’s story. like he didn’t belong next to you.

you didn’t say anything about it. you were warm and kind, smiling like nothing was wrong, but his mind kept spinning. you were beautiful, and he wanted to match you. not because you ever asked him to, not because you cared about status or outfits or brands, but because he wanted to show you that you mattered. that being with you made him want to try. to be better. to be the kind of guy you could look at and think, yeah, he’s mine.

so, he started putting in effort.

slowly, at first. a nicer shirt. jeans that actually fit right. sneakers that weren’t torn up. he started googling “casual date outfits” at midnight and watching tutorials on how to style his hair. he’d stand in front of the mirror, fiddling with a comb for twenty minutes, trying to get it to lay just right.

when he overheard you telling someone that clear lip gloss looked cute on guys, he went out and bought one, hiding it in his drawer like it was some deep secret. he dabbed on a little cologne, just enough to smell good if you got close, but not too strong. he didn’t want to overdo it, he just wanted you to notice.

and the first time he showed up like that, button down shirt, clean black slacks, his hair actually styled, you blinked at him in surprise. your eyes lit up, and then you smiled, all warm and soft and proud.

“you look good.” you said, reaching out to straighten his collar.

he ducked his head immediately, ears turning pink, mumbling something like “it’s nothing,” but inside, his heart was pounding. your smile made all the fuss worth it. suddenly, all those minutes in front of the mirror didn’t feel stupid at all.

now, every time you two go out, he shows up looking polished. still isagi, but cleaned up in a way that’s intentional. for you. always for you. he pretends it’s no big deal, says things like “i just threw this on,” but you always catch him peeking at your face when you first see him, like he’s searching for that spark in your eyes. that little smile. that approval.

did you notice? did you think he looked good?

because for you, he wants to be someone you can be proud of. someone who fits beside you in every way.

someone who shows, even in the smallest things, just how much he cares.

nagi has you on his lap while he games.

he’s never really been the type to share. not his snacks, especially not the good ones he stashed behind the cereal boxes. not his phone charger, unless you pried it out of his hands. and definitely not his gaming setup, which he treated with the kind of care usually reserved for sacred artifacts. it was his zone. . his quiet, comfy little world where he didn’t have to talk too much or try too hard.

but you? you were the one exception to every rule he ever made.

the first time it happened, you thought he was messing around. he was already slouched in his chair, headset tilted halfway off his head, finger idly clicking through a loading screen when he looked up and said, “c’mere,” voice low and lazy, like he couldn’t be bothered to speak louder. he pat his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world, and when you hesitated, he just gave a soft, drawn out sigh, tugged you gently down into his arms like you were made to be there.

your legs fit across his, his arm curling loosely around your waist. he didn’t pause his game, didn’t adjust anything, just held you, controller still in one hand like it was second nature now, like you were part of the setup.

after that, it became a routine. when he booted up his system, he’d automatically tilt the mic so it could catch both your voices. if his teammates were being annoying, talking too much, playing like idiots, he’d lean close and murmur, “angel, tell them they suck.” like he couldn’t be bothered to do it himself.

and you would. all smiles and giggles. “yo, you guys are actual trash. maybe click the uninstall button?”

he’d laugh every time, breathy and slow, and mute the mic just long enough to nuzzle into your shoulder and mumble, “so cute…” like he was falling asleep mid sentence, voice warm and soft, laced with affection only you got to hear.

when it came to crate openings, he always passed you the mouse. didn’t matter if it was a rare drop, or some ultra limited skin he’d been saving up for. didn’t matter if you had terrible luck or if you accidentally clicked the wrong tier. he didn’t even blink. he’d just lean back, cheek pressed against your shoulder, arms still draped around your waist, and say something like, “your hands are lucky… or maybe i just like watching you click stuff… dunno.”

sometimes he’d half doze like that, head tilted against you while the screen lit up with explosions and loot animations, his breathing slow and silent, but if you shifted too far or started to get up, he’d whine just a little, pulling you back down with cold fingers.

“…don’t go. you’re comfy.. stay.”

and even in the middle of intense matches, when he was wide awake and locked in, his touch never left you. one hand still on the controller, the other resting under your shirt, palm flat against the warmth of your skin. not in a dirty way, just there. soft and real.

“kinda makes me play better when you’re here,” he mumbled once, voice soft and muffled against your shoulder, like he was confessing a secret he didn’t know how to say out loud. he’s never been good with words. “feels easier. like… mm, dunno. just nicer.”

he was lazy, slow, always halfasleep, like the world was asking too much of him.

but when you were in his lap, calling out his kills and opening his crates, he didn’t mind putting in the effort. not for the game.

for you. always for you.

reo makes you give him a fashion show.

his favorite tradition, one he swears he’ll never get tired of, is the post shopping fashion show.

it happens every time. you come back from a shopping trip (usually with him), arms weighed down by sleek black bags with gold embossed logos, the kind of bags that make people stare. reo always takes them from you, grinning like a kid on christmas morning, but the second you’re inside his apartment, his spacious, sunlit, and stupidly expensive apartment, he flops onto the couch like he just ran a marathon.

he spreads out like a king. one arm slung over the back of the couch, legs wide, designer hoodie riding up just a little at his waist. he’s already got his phone out, camera app open, thumb hovering over the screen. his purple eyes are lazy but lit up, amusement curling at his lips.

“alright, babe,” he says, voice smooth and teasing, like he’s about to be spoiled. “impress me.”

and god, you always do.

you step out of his room wearing the first outfit, tags still on, fabric clinging in all the right places. before you can even say anything, the camera shutter starts going off, reo already leaning forward, angling his phone, snapping pictures like he’s backstage at fashion week.

“yeahhh,” he breathes, grinning, “that’s the one. wear that next week when i take you to dinner.”

you try to act nonchalant, rolling your eyes, adjusting a cuffs, but he catches the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. because he’s not playing around, not at all. he hypes you up with that soft, easy charm of his. not loud, not fake. just warm, like he genuinely believes you’re the most beautiful thing in the world and wants to make sure you know it too.

sometimes he puts his phone down. doesn’t say anything for a second, just watches you. his cheek resting on his knuckles, that dreamy, love struck look stealing over his face. the one he never bothers to hide.

“you look good in literally everything,” he says quietly, eyes dragging down your body and back up again. “like unfair good. how’d i get so lucky?”

you laugh, try to brush it off, but he’s already grabbing the phone again.

“wait, turn around,” he says, gesturing. “let me see the back. yeah, there, hold that pose.”

he takes photos of every look. seriously. all of them. he saves them in a locked album on his phone, titles it something stupid like “my baby’s runway”, and scrolls through it when you’re not around. sometimes he’ll set one as his lockscreen and just smile every time it lights up. doesn’t even try to hide it.

“i’m gonna frame this one,” he tells you one night, holding up a blurry pic of you mid spin, laughing in one of his designer jackets. “i’m serious. right next to my diplomas.”

you roll your eyes, but he just shrugs, like it makes perfect sense.

“fashion week could never,” he says, stretching out again, watching you disappear into the bedroom for your next change. “this is your week. every week is your week.”

he’s cocky, yeah. always has been. rich, too, old money, trust funds, family estate and all that. but with you, none of it’s about flexing. it’s not about showing off what he has. it’s about showing off you. because he’s proud. because he loves you. because you’re his favorite view in the world, no matter what you’re wearing.

but he’s not complaining when it’s a little tight, a little short, a little dangerous.

he just grins, leans back, and says, “how am i supposed to let you leave the house dressed like that?”

spoiler, he doesn’t.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Wrapped around you [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds x fem!reader

wc: 3k

summary: Bob has a secret lover in the city, and that night he feels the need to sleep in her arms.

masterlist

You were making instant soup when your phone buzzed with a text. It was late and you were tired, so you figured whoever it was, could wait a bit.

You'd spent fourteen hours working at the convenience store, covering your usual shift and also the shift of the college student who worked in the afternoons. More than just the money, it was a kind of favor. The poor girl had been sick the past few days, and you'd hate for her to lose her job. Still, the fact that it was an act of good faith didn't help ease your fatigue.

A minute after the first message, another one rang. You ignored it, thinking that if it was something urgent, the person could always call. Two more messages rang through shortly after. And when two more did, it was enough for you to turn away from the stove and search for your phone.

The contact record was flashing in the notification bar.

Bob ♡ : hi Bob ♡ : are you home? Bob ♡ : can i come over? Bob ♡ : I know it's late Bob ♡ : sorry Bob ♡ : you can say no

You knew he hated taking calls, and although the insistence seemed odd to you, you quickly responded. You thought that, after so many months, he would have understood that it wasn't even necessary for him to ask if he could visit you. But he kept doing it, and you kept saying yes.

When you met him, it wasn't under the best circumstances. The man had walked into the store all nervous, and judging by the way he was hyperventilating, you thought he'd been mugged. It turned out he was having some kind of anxiety attack and just wanted to stay somewhere to calm down. You –still afraid he'd escaped from a mental institution– let him. After a few minutes of analyzing him, something in you told you he was just a man who needed a little kindness.

You offered him water, asked if he needed any medication, and suggested he grab something from the store if he was hungry. Bob didn't accept either option, but he appreciated the consideration you were showing him, even though you didn't know him. A while later, when he was in a more decent state, he said goodbye.

You had trouble sleeping that night. You worried about not knowing what had become of that stranger, even if his visit to the store had been so brief.

A few days later, he appeared again. He looked better this time. He still had that shy air, but now he wasn't pale and staring into space. It turned out he'd come back to thank you. You thought it was such a sweet gesture that if you could have, you would have hugged him; you didn't because it would have been too weird.

Bob continued going to the store. At first, he at least pretended he was going to buy something, almost always grabbing the first thing he found and putting it in the checkout, hoping you'd exchange a few words.

You didn't want to bankrupt the poor boy, so after a few weeks, you told him he could stop by and say hi even if he wasn't going to buy anything.

At some point, you invited him out for ice cream. You started spending more time together, and finally, one day you invited him over to your apartment. The first time, you didn't have sex. It was the second time.

From then on, you had something going on, though you still didn't dare put a name to it. Bob didn't want to make you feel stifled or pressured, and you thought talking things out would bring you bad luck.

That's why it wasn't unusual for him to stop by your apartment sometimes, whenever he felt like cuddling. Of course, you two didn't just fuck, but to be honest, the activity was extremely beneficial for producing certain chemicals in your brains that made any difficult situation better. So it was something to relax, yes.

You hadn't told anyone about him. It was like a tacit agreement, almost as if you two were leading a double life where things were less stressful, confined mostly to your couch or bed.

As for him, he also kept you a secret with some suspicion. His friends noticed that he'd been absent more in recent months, but no one had been able to investigate. The few times they wanted to bring up the subject, Bob would excuse himself by saying he was going to the library or running some errands, and the matter was settled.

Now and then, he would sleep over at your apartment. It was always because you were having a good time and you suggested it, insisting that the night could hold many dangers. But both of you knew it was the need for closeness speaking for you.

However, it was unexpected that he would take the initiative to spend the night together. Because at that hour, he was definitely going to stay until the next morning, right?

Knock, knock, knock…

Someone was at the door. You didn't know how long you'd been lost in thought, but the lukewarm soup in your bowl gave you a clue.

Bob always arrived the same way: with that strange mix of imposing presence and quiet exhaustion. Tonight was no exception. He was wearing a dark sweatshirt—one of those old, oversized ones that seemed to have lost their shape from so much use—and faded jeans, his worn boots covered in a fine layer of dust. His disheveled hair fell over his forehead, damp at the temples, as if he'd been walking too far or had just stepped out of a quick shower without drying it completely.

His shoulders were tense, but his eyes… his eyes spoke volumes. Dark circles under his eyes, heavy eyelids, as if he hadn't slept well in days. And yet, when he looked at you as you opened the door, there was a faint flicker of relief in his expression. He didn't fully smile, but you could tell something in him had given way just by looking at you.

"Hi"

He was carrying a small paper bag—probably containing something for dinner, or some absurd craving he was using as an excuse to see you—and his knuckles were red, as if he'd been rubbing them together out of anxiety or cold. He didn't say much when he entered. He only looked at you for a few seconds, as if he needed to confirm that you were letting him into your home.

"How are you?"

“Fine,” you followed him with your eyes, noticing him walking to the counter to leave the package. “And you?”

"Fine"

His answer obviously didn't convince you completely. So you quietly approached him and cupped his face for a kiss.

Bob immediately let out a sigh and his shoulders relaxed under your touch.

"You sure?"

“Yes. I just… wanted to see you. That’s all.”

“Oh, just seeing me? How unfortunate, darling.”

Suddenly, you heard him chuckle, and then he came over to hug you, burying his head in the crook of your neck. A shiver ran through you when he kissed your bare skin.

“Seeing you, hugging you, touching you, kissing you…”

“That sounds better to me.”

Instinctively you leaned further against him, letting his hand settle on your lower back and holding that position for a while.

You noticed that in the paper bag Bob had brought a couple of rolls and a bottle of chocolate milk to share with you. It was odd how he almost always brought something, as if he wanted to show you that he wasn't just going to demand your affection. Even if he had, it wouldn't have bothered you too much.

You sat down in the living room to share a small dinner, and Bob asked how your day had been. He really enjoyed listening to you, though he couldn't exactly explain why, and you were always happy to share things with him. You only stopped when he took it upon himself to brush away a couple of crumbs that had remained at the corner of your lips, doing so with a gentleness that melted your heart.

It was past midnight when you finished eating. Even though the man's presence had lifted your spirits, you still felt like your eyelids would close at any moment and you'd simply collapse. He noticed.

“Do you want me to stay?”

His voice came out in a measured tone, almost as if he didn't want to upset the fragile balance of the night. You didn't answer him immediately, but instead looked at him. The dim light barely outlined his figure, his broad shoulders, his long legs crossed with a comfort that contrasted with the question he'd just asked.

“Are you asking because you really don’t know…” you said calmly, with that kindness you usually reserved only for him, “or because you need me to say yes to feel at peace?”

Bob looked up. That familiar expression appeared on his face: a mixture of honesty and a certain emotional awkwardness.

“Maybe both”

You nodded without saying anything. The tenderness he provoked in you wasn't effusive or naive; it was more like something that knotted in your stomach and spoke to you in a low voice.

“Of course I want you to stay. You can stay as many times as you want.”

With that, you walked toward him, extending your hand in a calm gesture, almost out of habit. It wasn't an invitation: it was a certainty.

He didn't hesitate. He stood up naturally and followed you, as if that was enough to remind him that yes, this was his place. You knew something was happening to him, but you couldn't figure out what it was; there was a sign written on his forehead, in a language you couldn't read.

Your apartment was modest, but—in Bob's words—cozy. Because of this, your mattress was barely bigger than a twin, not quite a queen size, but there was enough room for the two of you.

Throughout the room, there were a few things that denoted his intermittent presence. You had a comforter, white and crisp, that you unfolded whenever he stayed. He'd told you that being covered helped him sleep. You, on the other hand, hated doing it. He slept without a pillow, and you slept with this one. Bob on the left side, you on the right.

The mere knowledge of the opposite routine was proof enough that your relationship was more intimate than either of you would have liked to admit. There was a sweater he'd forgotten, you'd gotten him a toothbrush, and you also had his favorite brand of tea, as a thoughtful gesture. One of his books rested on your nightstand.

Sometimes, in a corner of your bed, he used to forget his heart.

Shortly after wishing him goodnight, you fell asleep. You could barely feel his presence, close in the small space, but far enough away that he couldn't reach your hand or wrap you in a hug. Either way, you were just getting used to it, as neither of you had ever slept in another person's arms. At least not as a regular activity, of course.

Hours passed until, unwillingly, you suddenly woke up. It wasn't due to a noise or a bad dream; it was just your brain deciding to interrupt your sleep. A second later, slightly more conscious, you realized you needed to pee.

Reluctantly, you dragged yourself out of bed, complaining about leaving the comfort of your previous position and hissing softly as your feet hit the cold floor. You crossed to the bathroom and, as you sat down, you remembered that you hadn’t brushed your teeth before going to bed, so, taking advantage of the fact that you were already there, you did. It lasted about five minutes, at most, then you flushed the toilet and forced yourself to walk again.

All the lights were off, except for the faint glow coming through the window from the street, because you didn't want to be disturbed from sleep. The silence of three in the morning accompanied you on your journey.

Then, as you turned down the hall, you saw him.

Bob was sitting up in bed, hunched slightly forward. He hadn't turned on a lamp either. His eyes were half-closed, blinking slowly, as if drowsiness were overcoming him, but he wasn't about to give in. He yawned, long and contained, covering his mouth with a piece of the comforter he was holding.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, stopping in your tracks, softening your voice.

It took him a few seconds to react. He looked up, staring at you as if he needed confirmation that you were back.

“You left,” he murmured hoarsely, without reproach.

You walked slowly toward, sitting across from him. You took his face in your hands, warm and firm, recognizing that subtle tremor that sometimes appeared in his jaw when something happened to him.

“Did I wake you up when I got up? I’m sorry…”

“No. I just... didn’t feel you.”

He caressed, perhaps unconsciously, the space on the mattress that still held the silhouette of your body. You watched him with a hint of confusion.

“I just went to the bathroom, Bob. I wasn't going to leave. Why didn't you stay asleep?"

He didn't respond. He looked at you as if he were trying to absorb you with his eyes, as if your presence alone wasn't enough to quell the restlessness he'd felt during those minutes of absence.

Bob wasn't an easy man to read, not even when he gave in to exhaustion, as if all his emotions were seeping through a tiny crack. But there, in that barely tense stillness, you understood. He wasn't worried about your absence, but rather reacting to the possibility of being alone. Again. To the fleeting image of an empty bed in the middle of the night.

Suddenly, without a word, he leaned toward you. He rested his forehead against yours, closed his eyes, and then his lips sought yours with a silent urgency. Not hunger, not passion, just need. Like someone clinging to an edge to avoid falling.

You let him do it, without asking any more questions. You responded with slow, sustained kisses, not meant to heal him, just to let him know you were there.

He clung to your waist, wrapped his arms around you, and buried himself against your body as if he wanted to disappear into your skin. He didn't stop kissing you, not even when he laid you back on the mattress. You hugged him back, caressing the back of his neck, his back, his shoulders. You no longer tried to guess what was troubling him; you had learned that he didn't need to be interrogated, but rather to be enveloped.

His caresses weren't meant to be lascivious, but simply a quiet need for contact. When he finished kissing you, he buried his face against your chest and, as if that weren't enough, tangled a leg between yours. You noticed he was still tense, even in that embrace that should have been a relief.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, slowly stroking the back of his neck.

Bob nodded, but hesitantly.

“No, nothing. I just... wondered if this is... too much.” His voice was a broken whisper, as if he didn’t know how to say it without ruining the moment. “Am I being... clingy?”

"Why do you say that?"

“I don’t want to suffocate you”

You let out a low laugh, so soft it barely vibrated in your chest. You kissed his temple and then stroked him again, more deliberately, your nails barely grazing his scalp.

“You don’t, love. I’m fine. Excellent, in fact.”

After your confession, he relaxed a little, but didn't let go of the hug. You, without rushing him, continued to tangle your fingers in his hair.

"I like it when you say nice things like that to me. You know, when you call me love and all that..."

“With that little, pretty face it’s impossible to contain myself.”

Your eyes were already closed when you said that, but both he and you knew there was a small smile on the other one face. After a few seconds, you began to hum a melody without words, soft and repetitive, with the calm rhythm of someone who doesn't need to think.

Bob could feel the vibrations in your throat and tried to focus on it, as if it were a lullaby to help him fall asleep. Eventually, that, along with the massage you were giving him on his scalp, was enough to help him fall asleep. You knew he had done it when you felt his breathing take on a calmer, more steady rhythm against your body.

Even though you were exhausted, you still took a few minutes to meditate. Having him like this, practically fused against you, clinging to you as if he feared you'd evaporate, begging for kisses in hopes of drowning whatever demon was tormenting him now, you wondered how bad it would be to have him in your house more often. Except for your parents, you weren't good at sharing your living space with anyone else. But Bob made you want it, like you suddenly wished you two were serious, formal, and maybe even settled down with him. At first, the thought made you smile. A moment later, it completely terrified you.

Bob wasn't the perfect man, and you definitely weren't the perfect woman. But in that moment, you felt like you were what each other needed. Reflecting, you stroked his head a little more until you felt your own body giving in, surrendering to the rest you so longed for.

Before slipping into unconsciousness, you concluded that, even though you didn't know what the future would hold, you were determined to enjoy the present. For the moment, that was more than enough.

taglist: @littlemsbumblebee @qardasngan

[wonderlandwalker]

Fake it 'till you break it | Steve Harrington x reader

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 / 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱

summary: Steve’s always been good at pretending. The problem? This doesn’t feel like pretend anymore. Now he’s stuck between two nightmares: watching you walk away when the act ends… or risking everything to make it real.

word count: 7.8k

tags / content warnings: hurt/comfort mostly, my attempt at the fake dating trope, some spice of course, i've stared at this way too long so possibly continuity errors or too many synonyms

a/n: this might be a mess but it's a mess I made with love, might come back and edit it later, might redo the whole thing, but wanted to give you guys at least something after all this time, thanks for sticking around <3

There are plenty of things Steve regrets—a running list that gnaws at him in the quiet hours, the kind of thoughts that coil around his ribs and squeeze just enough to remind him they’re there.

He regrets his high school persona, with a shame so visceral it still makes his fucking skin crawl; God, the hair gel alone should’ve been classified as a war crime. He thinks about it when he passes the Hawkins High parking lot, when he catches a whiff of that godawful Axe body spray Dustin insists on dousing himself in, and when some old classmate gives him that look—the one that says,  I remember who you used to be.

But this?

This isn’t regret. No, that's too small, too flimsy a word for the way his chest caves in when he catches the scent of your perfume already clinging to his shirt. The vibration of your hum—low, amused, content—as you agree with something Robin says (fuck, what was Robin even talking about? Politics? Movies? That weird new video game?) travels straight through his chest like the most beautiful kind of devastation.  You’re right there, tucked against his side like you belong there, your warmth seeping into him like he’d hollowed out a space in his torso just for you. It’s not regret that winds around his throat like a noose he’d gladly tighten himself.

He regrets not visiting Aunt Cathy in Little Rock before she passed. She’d sent him those lumpy handmade sweaters every Christmas, each one uglier than the last, and he’d never even thanked her properly. Just a grumbled "Thanks, I guess" tossed into the receiver during some obligatory holiday phone call, already distracted by whatever party he was missing. Now, the last one she ever made—a pea-green monstrosity with lopsided orange reindeer, mustard-yellow accents that could blind a man, and sleeves so long they swallow his hands whole—sits neatly folded in his bottom drawer. He can’t bring himself to wear it. Can’t bring himself to get rid of it, either.

He regrets getting careless last summer, leaving that half-smoked joint on his nightstand like an idiot before his parents got back from Tokyo. His father’s lecture about "the dangers of marijuana" had been particularly rich coming from a man who kept Cuban cigars locked in a humidor like they were fucking crown jewels. (Not that Steve cared. Not that he ever cared what that man thought—except, well. Except.)

But those were warm-up acts.

Minor-league regrets.

The main event? 

The heavyweight champion of his fuck-ups?

The gold medal, hall of fame, once-in-a-lifetime screwup that’ll haunt him to his grave?

This.

This is one of those moments people invent time machines to undo. The kind of mistake that makes men swear off alcohol, religion, and women all at once. There’s a fire somewhere inside him, but it’s not the good kind—not the warm, crackling hearth of something real. It’s the sputtering, desperate flame of a match held too close to skin, the kind that leaves blisters if you’re not careful. His brain has rehearsed this moment so often that muscle memory takes over as his thoughts are stuck. He still interjects at the right moments, laughs at the right beats, and plays the perfect doting boyfriend with terrifying precision. The irony is a blade twisting inside him: after so long of pretending not to love you, now he’s being judged on his performance of pretending to.

God, Robin really has the uncanny ability to turn his world upside down without even meaning to. When she first brought it up, her words had been going a mile a minute, tripping over each other like a drunk gymnast, her mouth running faster than her brain, and he should’ve known right then:

Category Five Disaster.

Code Red.

Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here.

"—so… I suggested we could go on a double date to make it more, y’know, casual." Her grin hadn’t wavered, even as you blinked at her, slow and uncertain. "What does this have to do with us, Robs?" you finally asked, voice laced with the same wary suspicion that was crawling up Steve’s spine like a particularly persistent spider. 

"Because you're the ones we're going on a double date with, duh!" She had beamed, absurdly pleased with herself, looking for all the world like she’d just solved cold fusion. "Whoa, whoa, whoa."  He had cut in, holding up a hand like a traffic cop. His pulse hammering—a wild, traitorous thing. He had shoved it back down into the dark where it belonged. "I don't know what delusional world you've been living in, Buckley, but we—" He jabbed a finger between you and himself with more force than necessary, "—are not dating."

The words tasted like acid on his tongue, burning all the way down.

Which was stupid.

Because it’s the truth. 

You’re not dating.

You’ve never dated.

Except in his head.

And it's fine.

Totally, completely, achingly fine.

Except—

Except for the way his breath stutters in his chest when morning light catches you just right, turning your features golden and ethereal like some Renaissance painting he’s not devout enough to worship.

Except for the way he’s painstakingly catalogued every variation of your laugh—the inelegant snort you immediately try to smother with your hand, the full-bodied one that makes you double over and clutch your stomach, the quiet, private chuckle you reserve exclusively for his dumbest jokes, and the one that somehow makes him feel like he’s won the goddamn lottery.

And now Robin wanted him to casually drape his arm over your shoulders like he had any right to touch you so familiarly?

To press a kiss to your temple and act like his heart isn’t trying to beat its way out of his chest like it’s making a prison break?

To call you "sweetheart" with all the easy affection he’s been choking back for months, the pet names piling up behind his teeth like an infatuated dragon hoarding woeful treasure?

That wouldn’t just be dangerous—that's downright suicidal.

It’s handing a loaded gun to his weakest impulses and praying he has the self-control not to pull the trigger.

But he’s backed into a corner with no exits, no clever quips, and no patented Steve Harrington Charm™ that can talk his way out of this.  If he refuses, Robin’s going to poke and prod like a determined archaeologist at a dig site until she uncovers the pathetic fossil of his crush, dusting it off for the whole world to see. If he agrees…

Christ.

He might as well just drop to one knee right here in the food court, ring made from a soda tab, and confess every embarrassing, lovesick thought that’s kept him awake at 3 a.m. for months. 

"—come onnnn, you two both owe me one!"  Robin had continued to whine, limbs flailing so dramatically she nearly sent her Diet Coke flying. Her foot connected with Steve’s shin under the table—a sharp kick that would’ve hurt if his entire nervous system wasn’t already short-circuiting. He shoved her away with a grumble that did nothing to hide the panic clawing up his throat. So he fixed her with his best withering glare—but it looked more like a man facing the gallows. "This isn’t the same as eating the last of the takeout, Robs."

"Oh, but it is," she countered, stabbing a finger in his direction with enough force to displace air molecules. "You literally stole my last egg roll—which, by the way, was clearly marked with my initials—"  (Steve mouthed 'psycho' at you over his shoulder — because seriously, who the hell initials their egg rolls? His reward was that poorly suppressed grin of yours, the one that makes his stomach perform acrobatics worthy of Cirque du Soleil. The way your lips quirk unevenly, one side rising higher than the other in that lopsided smile he's come to crave, eyes crinkling at the corners like you're trying to contain sunlight — he could write sonnets about that expression if he knew anything about poetry beyond what he'd skimmed in senior English) "—you said, and I quote," Robin went on as she adopted a terrible impression of his voice, all lowered pitch and exaggerated bravado," 'I'll pay you back someday.' Well, guess what, Harrington? Today is someday."

And yeah, okay, maybe he had said that. In his defence, he was running on three hours of sleep and enough caffeine to kill a horse, and Robin had been mid-panic spiral about never finding love. But this? This was way beyond their usual favour economy of borrowed five-dollar bills and shitty closing shifts — this was playing Russian roulette with his heart as the bullet.

"And you," Robin whirled on you next with the terrifying focus of a bloodhound catching a scent, accusation dripping from her pointed finger. "Promised to help me 'get the girl' after the whole Dallas Cowboys cheerleader fiasco. This," she declared, slapping both hands on the sticky food court table with finality, "is me collecting."

Your mouth fell open in protest—tongue darting out to wet your lips in that unconscious gesture that's starred in approximately seven hundred of his late-night fantasies—before snapping shut again as you came up empty. He watched the debate play out across your features: the furrow between your brows, the way your teeth worried at your bottom lip. Every expression was a language he'd become fluent in without meaning to. Steve could practically hear the gears turning in your head, the same way they were grinding in his own skull.

His gaze flickers to you—always to you, like a compass finding true north even when he wishes it wouldn’t. God, what heinous acts did he commit in a past life to deserve this particular hell?  You and Robin are his best friends—his people. The ones who stayed up with him getting high and laughing at shitty B-movies, your thighs pressed together on the couch until the lines between friends and something more blurred in the haze of weed and sleep deprivation. He still remembers the way your head eventually lolled against his shoulder, how he’d sat there, paralysed by the possibilities. 

You’re the ones who were there for him when he shattered after his parents’ last nuclear fight, when the silence in that too-big house threatened to drown him. Your arms around his shaking shoulders, your voice soft in his“ ear—“You’re better than they’ll ever be, Steve.”

He’d almost kissed you that night.

Almost.

The memory still haunts him like a ghost he can’t exorcise: your face tilted toward his in the dim glow of the porch light, your breath hitching when his thumb brushed your cheek. For one reckless second, he’d let himself truly imagine it—closing the distance, swallowing your gasp, letting the dam break.

You've seen him at his worst—red-eyed and ugly with grief—and you stayed. Wrapped yourself around him like human armour against the world, your heartbeat steady against his back when his own couldn't find its rhythm. That alone should have been enough. Should have cauterised this stupid crush before it took root like some invasive weed cracking through concrete. Should have reminded him that what you have is too precious to risk for something as reckless, as temporary, as fleeting as romance. But then came that first perfidious flutter in his stomach months ago, that stupid, hopeful zing when your laughter curled around him like smoke from one of Robin's clove cigarettes—sweet and intoxicating and impossible to ignore. He'd written it off immediately as his brain's latest attempt to ruin something good (a speciality of his, really), except the feeling didn't fade. It grew, fed by every accidental touch and lingering glance until it became something monstrous and beautiful and utterly inescapable:

The way you'd bite your lip when concentrating, unaware of how his gaze snagged on the motion like fabric catching barbed wire, how his fingers twitched with the need to tug it free, to soothe the indentations with his tongue.

The way you'd stretch in the morning light after crashing at his place, the hem of your shirt riding up just enough to reveal that sliver of skin above your hipbone—a soft crescent that made his throat go dry, that made him ache with the knowledge that he could reach out, trace the dip of your waist with just one fingertip—but he won't, he can't, because you're trusting him to be better than that.

The way you'd sigh his name when tired, dragging out the last vowel like it was something precious, something yours, and he'd have to clench his jaw so hard his molars ached against the urge to beg you to say it again, again, just like that, maybe against his mouth this time, maybe with his hands on your—

Now he's trapped in this sick parody of everything he's ever wanted—your body warm against his on the couch, your smiles sweet and fake, your touches choreographed for an audience like some grotesque puppet show. Every time he whispers "babe" (a word that tastes like sacrilege in his mouth), every time he laces his fingers with yours and pretends not to notice how perfectly they fit together, every time he pulls you closer under the guise of selling this lie (just because he can, just because for these stolen moments, you let him)—it's all salt in the wound.

And he knows this is the closest he'll ever get to having you—playing pretend for Vickie's benefit, his heart drumming against his chest with every touch he's not allowed to mean. Because even if—if—there is some part of you that feels it too (that invisible magnetic pull, that quiet hum and deep vibration when his fingers brush yours like a struck tuning fork), there are just too many variables. Too many landmines are hidden in this no-man's land.

Maybe he'd get a few weeks of heaven before you realised he wanted way more than you ever could. Maybe he'd find a way to screw it up like he always does, condemning himself to a lifetime of awkward pauses and avoidant glances every time your paths crossed. Or worse—maybe, maybe, even if you fell for him as badly as he's fallen for you, this dream he's conjured up would still be an impossible standard. A fantasy no real person could live up to, least of all a washed-up king with nothing but a handful of half-kept promises to his name.

But his performance opposite you is working too well—the Romeo to your Juliet (star-crossed and bleeding out), the Heathcliff to your Cathy (ruined and howling on the moors). The world watches staged romance through rose-tinted glasses, seeing only what it wants to see. Stolen glances mistaken for tenderness rather than theft. Casual touches interpreted as affection instead of self-flagellation. Devotion is heard in the harmony of your laughter rather than the dissonance of his slow unravelling.

These have never been love stories.

This has always been a tragedy dressed up as romance—all the warning signs painted over in pretty pastels. There's no happy ending waiting in the wings, no last-minute reprieve where the audience learns it was all a bad dream. Just the whirlwind of maybes and the inevitable collapse, the credits rolling over two people who used to know how to look each other in the eye.

Steve knows doomed narratives like he knows the scars on his knuckles—intimately, painfully. Could chart their progression from meet-cute to catastrophe with his eyes closed. He can pinpoint the exact moment the script flips—in the arch of an eyebrow, the hesitation before a touch. He's lived this story before and knows all its variations by heart.

His fantasies might be vivid.

But the reality is crushing.

The effortless synchronicity you two normally share is already gone, replaced by something jagged and electric—every glance a live wire threatening to burn everything down, every touch a lit fuse that comes dangerously close to the gasoline running in his veins. It's like dancing on a knife's edge where every step could either cut him open or set him free. The hesitation terrifies him—the way his fingers twitch toward you instinctively before he remembers with a gut-punch of awareness: he's allowed to touch you now. 

Supposed to, even.

But God, it hurts.

Because it's not real.

And yet—

And yet he'll drink the poison willingly if it means he could stay in this play with you. Would let the curtain fall on him mid-scene if it meant pretending, just for one more night, that this might actually end well. He can tell you feel it too by the way your fingers linger a second too long on his wrist—just enough to feel his racing pulse. By the way, your breath hitches when he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear (for the bit, he reminds himself, even as his skin burns where you touch like he's been graced by something holy). By the way, your eyes keep finding his in the dim light, dark with something he doesn't dare name.

And then, like fate itself is laughing at him, Vickie leans forward with margarita-slick lips, her eyes bright with tipsy curiosity. The question hangs between you all, innocent and devastating.

"How did you two first start dating?"

Perhaps it's the tequila loosening his tongue, or the way the overhead lights reflect in your eyes like distant stars, or he's just so goddamn tired of lying that the truth starts clawing its way up his throat. Whatever the reason, the story spills out before he can stop it.

"It was the night of Robin's last birthday."

His voice is rough, scraped raw by the memory as he looks at you—seeing the ghost of that night superimposed over your face now. The way your nose had scrunched when you laughed at something stupid Eddie said. How he'd counted every one of your smiles like a man keeping track of his last breaths.

"We were both drunk, but not falling-over drunk. Just... loose. Happy." He doesn't say how beautiful you looked that night or how your laughter had turned into something he wanted to bottle and keep forever. Doesn't mention how he'd gone home and pressed his forehead to his bathroom mirror, begging his reflection to get it together as his hands shook.

"You kept leaning into me—shoulder against mine, knee bumping my thigh. Normal shit." His throat bobs like he's swallowing glass.

"But then—" God, he can still feel it—the weight of your palm on his chest through his thin shirt, the way his heart had leapt like a fucking dog on a chain, wild and desperate. The way you'd noticed.

"—You put your hand on my chest and said—" ‘Steve,’ you'd murmured, voice thick and slow with gin and something sweeter, ��your heart's going crazy.’ Like it was a fascinating scientific discovery. Like you hadn't just signed his death warrant.

"—something stupid." He huffs a laugh, sharp and humourless.

"And I just... knew. Right then."

Knew he was fucked.

Knew he'd never recover.

Knew he'd rather live in this harrowing limbo of almosts and not-quites than risk losing you entirely.

Robin is staring at him now, her expression a mix of dawning horror and pity.

She knows. 

Knows this isn't part of the act.

Knows he's just handed you his still-beating heart on a silver platter.

And you—

You're looking at him like you've never seen him before. Like he's just peeled back his flesh and exposed every pathetic, yearning part of himself.

That's when you rip the script right out of his hands.

Within a second, your lips are on his—actually, wholeheartedly on his—warm and slightly sticky from margarita salt, tasting of lime and something sweeter. It’s slow and deliberate and agonising in its gentleness, the way your hand finds the nape of his neck like you’ve spent nights tracing the curve of his spine in the dark, memorising the way his breath hitches when your fingers brush just beneath his hairline. Time stretches, warps into an alternate reality where your sigh vibrates against his mouth like a second heartbeat.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice whispers, This is a mistake. There’s no coming back from this.

And then, too soon, before he can even properly react, it’s over.

Steve is pretty sure he just died and went to heaven. Or hell. At this point, he can’t tell the difference anymore. Now that he knows what you taste like—now that he knows the reality is a hundred times better than any of his desperate daydreams could have conjured—it takes every ounce of self-control not to drag you back in and ruin himself completely. His hands twitch at his sides, fingers curling into his palms just to keep from reaching for you. There’s a heat crawling up your cheeks, lashes fluttering like you’re caught in a storm. There’s an uncertainty in your eyes he’s never seen before—which is rare, because Steve has every expression you’ve ever made meticulously catalogued in the neat file cabinets of his brain: the way your nose scrunches when you’re trying not to laugh, the way your lips press together when you’re annoyed but pretending not to be, and the way your eyes soften when you think no one’s looking.

But this look—like you’re caught between absolution and damnation, like you’ve just stepped off a ledge and aren’t sure if you’re falling or flying—he doesn’t know it. Doesn’t know how to read it.

Doesn’t know if he’s supposed to reach for you or let you go.

He’s spent years perfecting the art of smooth exits and practiced charm, of knowing exactly when to lean in and when to pull away. But right now? With you?

After all this time of carefully rehearsing his lines, he’s been thrust into an improv scene in front of a live audience, and for the first time in his life, Steve Harrington has stage fright.

A beat passes.

Then another.

The silence stretches, suffocating.

His heart lurches, heavy with possibility, and he’s not sure he can survive the fallout if he’s wrong.

The rational part of his brain—the part that still remembers how to breathe—tells him this is just another layer of the performance. That you kissed him because it was easier than finding the right words, because the script demanded it, because, of course, you’d commit to the lie rather than let it crumble in front of Vickie. Of course you’d give him the one thing he’s always wanted without letting him know if he’s allowed to want more of it.

But the part of him that’s hopelessly, ruinously in love with you?

That part doesn’t care.

It will take whatever scraps you’re willing to give him—every staged endearment, any kiss that isn’t real but feels like it could be. And all those careful promises he made himself (don’t ruin this, don’t cross the line, don’t fucking dare fuck this all up) are gone, incinerated in the wake of your lips on his. The Library of Alexandria his heart has built for you is collapsing in flames, and you’re the one holding the torch. Every boundary he’s painstakingly written down in careful self-denial blackens at the edges like ancient parchment tossed into the wildfire.

But he’s just as much to blame.

He lit the match the moment he said yes  to this charade.

And God help him, he’ll let the fire turn him to ash if you’ll just stay this close a little longer—with those eyes that see straight through his constructed bullshit to the raw foundation beneath. Like his thoughts are a precious collection of first editions you’re desperate to read but are worried will fall apart in your hold before you get the chance to finish the preface. Like he’s something worth keeping close rather than the human equivalent of a ‘kick me’ sign taped to the universe’s back.

Like maybe—maybe—you’ve noticed the way his breath hitches when you enter a room and finally decided you like the power more than you fear its implications. He’ll choke on the smoke of this fantasy and pretend it’s oxygen if it means breathing the same air as you for just a few more seconds. He’ll gladly let his lungs blacken with the residue of this exquisite cataclysm, swallow every burning ember of inevitability if you’d just let him.

He’s leaning in again before he realises it—drawn like a moth to the flame, knowing it will kill him but too starved to care. The barely-there hitch of your breath is all the encouragement he needs, his body moving on autopilot, already addicted to the way you—

"That’s so romantic!"

Vickie’s voice shatters the moment, fracturing the fragile illusion into a thousand glittering shards.

You jerk back, blinking rapidly like someone waking from a dream, and Steve’s stomach plummets.

Right.

Romantic.

Not devastating.

Not life-altering.

Not I’ve been in love with you, and that kiss just rewired my fucking DNA.

Just… romantic.

The Rosaline he never stood a chance with—except in this version, he doesn’t move on, doesn’t get over it. He’s stuck in the first act of hardship, perpetually wondering, perpetually trying, while the audience watches with pity. In this version, he burns as time slips by in a haze of forced laughter and brittle smiles, but Steve’s internal clock is jammed—stuck on that single, breathless minute when your lips were on his and the world stopped.

He catches you staring every so often, your lips slightly parted like you’re holding back words—or maybe waiting for his. And there’s Vickie, still chattering away, blissfully oblivious to the way the air between you two has gone thick with everything unsaid.

It’s dangerous, this hope. Because if it isn’t fake for you either, if that kiss meant something—

But before he can even begin to untangle that thought—before he can decide if he’s terrified or thrilled by the idea that you might feel it too—Robin grabs his wrist and yanks him up towards the kitchen under the flimsy guise of "helping refill the snacks". The second the door swings shut behind them, she whirls on him, her voice a hissed whisper.

"What the hell was that, Steve?"

He doesn’t pretend to misunderstand. He can’t. Not when the memory of your mouth on his is seared into every synapse, not when his pulse hasn’t slowed since the moment you pulled away.  Robin’s eyes are wild, her hands gesturing erratically as she steps closer, backing him against the wall like she’s about to interrogate him. Steve opens his mouth—to argue, to deny, to something—

"I don’t know," he admits, running a hand through his hair—tugging at the roots like he’s trying to channel Munchausen, like he could physically pull the solution out of himself. "I can’t—fuck, Robin, I can’t keep doing this." Her expression flickers—sympathy warring with alarm. "What do you mean?"

"This." The word cracks between them, jagged and desperate. "Me and her. The—"the pretending." His throat burns, like the truth is acid on its way up. He exhales, the breath shuddering out of him like he’s been punched. "It’s horrible."

And it is.

It’s horrible because it’s too good. Because every laugh between you two is a shared secret, something fragile and precious that he hoards like a thief in the night. Because the kiss—the short, fake, perfect kiss—felt like coming home to a place he’d never been allowed to live in.

It’s horrible because he’s spent months carefully constructing walls between what he feels and what he shows, and now you’ve reduced them all to rubble. But he doesn’t get to continue; the door creaks, and when he turns—

You’re there.

Your face is pale, eyes wide and hurt for one fractured second before they shutter into something distant, something closed off.

His insides turn to lead.

Fuck.

"I was just—" Your voice is too light, too careful—the kind of tone you’d use with a stranger, with someone you’d rather forget. " —grabbing some more drinks."

You don’t meet his gaze as you brush past him, your shoulder barely skimming his, and Christ, it’s worse than if you’d shoved him. Steve is frozen, his pulse a frantic drumbeat against his ribs. Because he meant it—every word—but not like this. Not where you could hear it and twist it into something else. Not where it could hurt you.

His hands flex at his sides, useless.

Go after her.

Explain.

Beg.

But his feet stay rooted to the floor.

And for the first time since this started—since he let himself believe he could do this and walk away with his dignity intact—there's a terrible certainty crystallising in his chest like ice forming over a lake: if he doesn't get himself together, his nightmares of losing you for good will become a reality before he ever gets the chance to tell you the truth.

Before he can say,  It was never fake for me.

Before he can beg: Please don't walk away.

Before he can drop to his knees and confess that every touch, every laugh, and that godforsaken kiss has been real for him in ways that terrify him to his core.

Robin spares him one last look, caught between annoyance and sorrow, a silent battle raging behind her eyes about which fire to put out first—his stupidity or your hurt. The decision comes quickly as she turns on her heel to follow you, but not before shooting him a final glare that screams, 'What the fuck is wrong with you?' 

The rest of the night unfolds as the worst one of his life.

And that's saying something, considering the literal hellscape he's survived—but this slow unravelling of everything between you two? The way you’re pulling away? Retreating in that devastatingly subtle way of yours—carefully recalibrating every interaction like you're dismantling a bomb, trying to save yourself while simultaneously preventing the explosion of this lie. Every brush of your fingers against his—once electric, now agonising—feels like a choreographed step in a dance you no longer want to perform. He watches helplessly as you turn what used to be effortless connection into careful calculation, and it fucking destroys him.

He doesn't know how to fix this.

Doesn't even know where to start.

He'd watched from a distance as you talked to Robin, jaw clenched so tight his molars ached, hands shoved deep in his pockets to keep from storming over and demanding to know what you were saying about him. His lungs had burnt with the effort of staying put, his pulse a frantic drumbeat in his ears that drowned out all other sound.

He should have followed. Should have swallowed his pride, his fear, and just talked to you. But the moment passed, as moments do, and now the opportunity is gone.

When he finally cornered Robin, before he could even open his mouth, she gave him that look as she tilted her head in that particular Robin way, and he knew.

It's no use.

Robin Buckley would rather face certain execution than betray your trust, no matter how much he might beg.

And you?

You won't tell him anything at all.

Not anymore.

So he does what Steve Harrington does best when he's in over his head: he fakes a smile, cracks a joke no one laughs at, and pretends the way your avoidance feels like a thousand papercuts doesn't bother him at all.

By the time The Exterminator II ends, it’s past midnight, and the conversation turns to sleeping arrangements—because it’s dark, and you’ve all been drinking, and no one should be driving.

Robin, ever the martyr, offers to take the couch so Vickie can sleep in the guest room, already gathering spare pillows with a pointed glance in his direction.

His stomach drops.

He doesn’t even dare look at your expression.

Because the implication here is obvious.

You’ll sleep in his room.

Of course.

Of course he has to share a bed with you now, when everything is fractured and wrong, when every glance between you is a minefield.

Just hours ago, the idea of you in his bed would’ve sent his pulse into overdrive, would’ve had him imagining the warmth of your body against his, the way your breath might hitch if he pulled you close.

Now?

Now the thought is agony.

Because you’ll be lying beside him, close enough to touch, close enough to kiss again—but he won’t. He can’t. Not when you flinch at his accidental brushes, not when every word between you feels like walking on broken glass.

And he can’t refuse.

Not without making everything worse.

So he just nods, his jaw clenched tight, and tries not to think about how cruel it is—how close you’ll be tonight and yet how far you suddenly feel.

He tries to tell himself you’ve shared a bed before—you haven’t, not like this, never like this—not with the weight of everything pressing down between you. And yet here you are, in his bedroom, tugging one of his shirts from the drawer—his shirt, the fabric swallowing you whole, the collar slipping just enough to expose the curve of your shoulder.

The silence is deafening.

He clears his throat, voice rough. “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you mutter, sitting stiffly on the left side of the bed. Your fingers comb through your hair—a nervous habit he’s memorised by now.

“We’re adults; we can handle it.” you add.

Handle it.

As if trying to handle it isn’t the whole fucking issue.

As if he hasn’t spent every single second since that kiss handling the urge to drag you back in.

He hesitates, jaw set tight, but then you look at him—and fuck.

There it is: that same quiet worry he feels in every nerve ending, the same unspoken what now?  hanging between you.

So he lies down, careful to leave space between you.

For a moment, neither of you moves.

And he’s all out of excuses to tell himself.

There’s no audience left to play this off for, no flimsy justification for the way his fingers twitch toward you, and no lie left to hide behind.

Then—

“I’m sorry, I—”  Your voice cracks, barely a whisper, like you’re trying to fold yourself into the quiet between you. And Christ, he’d rather carve his own heart out with a dull spoon than let his stupid, self-sabotaging fear leave you like this—shoulders hunched, lips trembling, like you’re bracing for a blow.

What do you mean you’re sorry?

Your breath hitches—a sharp, fractured sound—and he realises, too late, that your eyes are glistening; the sight punches through him like a kick to the gut.

“I didn’t want to mess this up,” you whisper, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt like you’re clinging to an anchor. “I mean. I just thought—” Your voice wavers, and Steve watches, transfixed, as a single tear escapes, tracing a slow, damning path down your cheek.

He stares at you, stunned.

His hand lifts before he can stop it—before his brain can catch up with the chaos roaring in his chest—and his thumb brushes the tear from your cheek. Your skin is warm, impossibly soft, and the contact sends a jolt through him, sharp and sweet.

“You didn’t mess up anything,” he murmurs, voice rough, like the words are being dragged out of him.  You freeze under his touch, eyes wide, lips parted, and for one heart-stopping second, he thinks you might pull away again—but then your lashes flutter shut, and you lean in, ever so slightly, your breath warm against his palm.

And finally—he’s done pretending.

His fingers slide into your hair, cradling the back of your head as he pulls you in, forehead resting against yours, his breath is warm, uneven, mingling with yours in the scant space between your lips—close enough to taste, but not close enough to consume. 

“I’ve always been yours,” he murmurs, and you search his face, eyes flickering over the curve of his mouth, the desperate crease between his brows, trying to find the lie—but you don’t find it. Another breath punches out of you, shaky and sharp, and your gaze shifts—unsure to decisive, hesitant to hungry—before you’re surging forward, hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him in with a desperation that mirrors his own.  Where the last time was slow—careful, testing—this is messy. Teeth and tongue and hands that can’t decide where to settle—his fingers dig into your hips, then skate up your sides, dragging your shirt along with them, exposing bare skin to the feverish heat between you. It’s violent in its desperation, a collision of pent-up want and the sheer, dizzying relief of finally, finally giving in. And, God, it’s even better than the first time.

No, wait—that’s not right.

It’s different.

The first kiss was discovery; this is destruction.

Like comparing the strike of a match to an entire forest burning, like the difference between dipping your toes in the ocean and being dragged under by the riptide.

He drags you closer, hands spanning your waist, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise (and fuck, the thought of marks on your skin—his marks—sends a jolt of heat straight to his dick). He pulls you into him with all the force he’s been holding back finally unleashed. For a second, that nagging voice of hesitation flickers in the back of his head—too much, too fast—as your lips leave his. His grip loosens, just slightly, giving you space to pull away.

But then you make a sound.

The most beautiful sound in the universe, probably. Better than any symphony, any song on the radio, better than anything he’s ever fucking heard—a soft, breathy moan, spilling from your lips like you can’t help it, like it’s been ripped out of you as he tugs you into his lap.  Your thighs bracket his hips, and the contact is electric. The friction is maddening, the way you press against him, already seeking more. His breath hitches, fingers tightening possessively on your waist as he grinds up against you, just once—just to hear you make that sound again.

And you do.

Louder.

And fuck, if this is only the beginning—if the simple act of his hands roaming your body, skimming the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, tears noises from you that already have him aching—then he’s sure you’re going to be the end of him.

But, God, what a way to go.

He wants to cover every inch of your skin with his touch, to map the places that make you gasp, the spots that make you shiver, and to learn exactly how to reduce you to the same desperate, unravelled mess he’s been for you all this time. He wants to find out how many times he can pull this kind of bliss from you before you’re writhing, before you’re begging—for more, for mercy, for him.

You find his pulse point, teeth grazing the frantic beat of his heart, and he’s ripped from his thoughts, reminded with dizzying clarity that this isn’t another fantasy. This is real. He anchors himself back to the moment, needing to show you his devotion, no longer hedonism, finally able to worship without fear. His fingers glide lower, flexing over every bit of skin—until they reach the wet heat already pooling between your thighs. A guttural groan tears from his throat—half at the sensation, half at the confirmation that you want this just as badly, that you’re just as far gone as he is.

Every fantasy, every what if  he’s ever tortured himself with—he’ll get to live them all.

In one fluid motion, he flips you over, your head landing against the pillow, your hair already sticking to your forehead, damp with sweat and the sheer tension coiling between you. You’ve never looked more beautiful—not in the soft morning light, not laughing at some stupid joke of his, not even in the hazy afterglow of his most desperate daydreams. This is the moment he’ll remember forever. The way your chest rises with each ragged breath, the way your lips part just slightly, like you’re already begging for his mouth on yours again. If he could freeze time, if he could live in one single second for the rest of his life, it would be this one.

He trails kisses down your body—slow, worshipful—mapping every dip and curve. The hollow of your throat. The valley between your breasts. The trembling plane of your stomach. He wants to take his time, wants to ruin you with patience, but you’re already tugging him back up, eyes heavy lidded but locked onto him like he’s the only thing in the world worth seeing.

Your fingers tangle in his hair—tugging—and when he slips one finger inside you, you clench around him so tight he sees stars. Christ.  Like your body was made for him, to take him, to want him. He can't remember how he ever breathed before this moment, before the staggering heat of you surrounding him.

As he presses deeper, your hand finds his aching length, stroking him in time with his movements until he has to break the kiss just to groan your name. He feels the vibration of it travel through your joined bodies when you guide him to your entrance, and who is he to deny you when you're like this—when you're pleading with your entire body, hips canting up against his, nails biting into his shoulders like you'll die if he doesn't give you what you need?

He's only human.

He pushes inside in one slow, devastating glide, his thumb now tracing quick, insistent circles over your clit. He's already teetering on the edge—from the way you take him so perfectly, like you've been waiting your whole life for this; from the silent gasp that parts your lips when he bottoms out; and from the goddamn way you're still looking at him, like he holds your entire universe in his hands.

It's intoxicating.

He doesn’t let up—couldn’t if he tried. Every nerve in his body is alight, wired on the way you clench around him, the way your nails dig crescent moons into his shoulders like you’re afraid he’ll disappear. But Steve isn’t going anywhere. Not when you’re like this—breathless, boneless, his—falling apart beneath him with every snap of his hips.

His pace turns punishing, each thrust carving your name into the space between your ribs, pulling another broken sound from your lips. And god, each one is sweeter than the last—he’s addicted. He wants to bottle them, wants to memorize the way you unravel for him, wants to live in this moment until it’s seared into his bones. The high whine when he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot inside you that makes your back arch off the bed. The choked-off moan when his thumb presses harder on your clit, circling with just the right mix of cruelty and devotion. The way his name sounds when it’s wrung from your throat like a prayer, ragged and reverent, like he’s the only thing holding you together.

He’s close—so fucking close—but he’ll be damned if he lets go first. Not when you’re trembling beneath him, not when your thighs are shaking, not when every gasp and whimper is a siren song pulling him deeper.

Until Robin's voice cuts through the haze:

"JESUS CHRIST—”

Her shriek could wake the dead.

Steve barely has time to yank the sheets up over your bodies before Robin whirls around, slapping a hand over her eyes like she's just stared directly into the sun.

“I knocked. Oh my God—" She's already out of the room again, the door slams shut behind her with a force that rattles the frame, her dramatic exit punctuated by a muffled, "Ugh, gross!" from the hallway. You burst into laughter beneath Steve, the sound bright and startled. His weight presses you deeper into the mattress as he groans, half-amused, half-exasperated. "She has the worst timing," he mutters, but there’s no real annoyance in it. Robin’s chaos is, after all, the reason the two of you are tangled together like this in the first place. (He’ll thank her later. Maybe. If he remembers anything beyond the way your thighs tighten around his hips.)

For now, though, his focus narrows to the way your laughter fades into breathless anticipation, lips still parted, eyes darkening as his fingers trace the curve of your waist. He drops his forehead to yours, grinning like an idiot—the kind of smile that used to be reserved for winning fights and stealing hearts, now softened into something just for you.

"You done laughing at me?" he teases, voice low, thumb brushing the hinge of your jaw.

You bite your lip, but the mirth still dances in your eyes. "Depends. Are you done pouting?"

Steve scoffs, but his mouth finds yours before he can protest, swallowing your next laugh and turning it into a gasp. He kisses you like he’s got something to prove—like every flick of his tongue, every nip of his teeth is rewriting the script of who the two of you used to be. 

[calumcxke]

NOTHING SAFE IS WORTH THE DRIVE - L.HS

pairing: playboy!heeseung x inexperienced!reader

summary: lee heeseung was an asshole. you had decided that. having to work with him on a group project made things a hundred times worse. but when a heart longing to experience love for the first time meets someone more than willing to give it, the line between irritation and something deeper starts to blur.

wc: 37.9k (i’m sorry)

warnings: reader is completely inexperienced, angst, miscommunication, reader falls too quickly and gets flustered very easily, kinda slow burn but not really, heeseung plays basketball but it’s barely mentioned, heeseung calls reader “princess” a lot, kissing, making out, features wonyoung (ive), yunjin (le sserafim), beomgyu (txt), sieun (stayc), reader cries a lot

smut warnings: dry humping, oral (f rec.), unprotected sex, virginity loss

🎵: playlist

notes: it’s here!! i'm SO sorry this took so long, i was having issues with tumblr :( this was originally only supposed to be 20k words… idk what happened. but it’s a rollercoaster and i love it!!! have fun reading! <3

you had heard of him before you ever saw him. everyone knew his name- whispered in dorm hallways, watched at games, the life of the party. a reputation built on charm, late-night hookups, and the kind of confidence that made girls fall to his feet with every word he said. you never cared to pay him any mind. but today, you walked into class and found him sitting in your seat. lee heeseung. just your luck. you hesitated for half a second before walking up to him. he was hunched over his phone, tapping out a message, looking about as invested in being here as a teenager at their grandma’s bingo game. "that’s my seat." his eyes flicked up at you, slow and lazy, like you’d interrupted something important. he gave you a once-over- casual, unreadable- and then, just as plainly, looked back at his phone. "doesn’t have your name on it." you exhaled sharply. of course. "i’ve been sitting here all semester." "congrats." he didn’t even look at you this time. "find another spot." and just like that, every rumor, every complaint you’d heard about him settled into place. arrogant. entitled. exactly the kind of guy you had no patience for. fine. whatever. you weren’t about to argue with someone who clearly wasn’t worth the energy. wordlessy, you drop into the seat beside him, pull out your notebook, and act like he doesn’t exist. he didn’t pay you any mind after that, instead shifting so he was leaned back against the seat, his feet kicked out in front of him. you wondered what made heeseung so popular with the ladies. sure, he was attractive. that much was undeniable. sadly. but you had barely had a ten second interaction with him, and he had already managed to piss you off. you bit the inside of your cheek, holding back a sigh as you waited for the professor to show up. the universe had to have been out for you today. you woke up late, you’re out of your go-to breakfast bars, and you’re sitting next to lee heeseung in class. you were silently praying nothing worse could happen. you hadn’t signed up for this. you were just trying to get through this class and move on with your day. but here you were, next to the campus playboy himself, the guy who never seemed to take anything seriously, the guy who had a different girl on his arm every weekend. you tried not to look over at him. you really did. but he practically radiated attention. his messy hair fell perfectly in place, and his broad shoulders took up way too much space for someone who was so annoying. heeseung wasn’t talking to you, but you could feel his presence next to you, and it was somehow more distracting than if he had been talking to you. the way his fingers tapped on the desk, the faint cologne smell that wafted over to you, even the way his shoes shifted against the floor- it was like he was intentionally making everything around him more noticeable. you hated how easily he commanded the room. you hated that even now, you were aware of him more than anyone else. and of course, the universe had to pick today to make you sit right next to him. of course, it had to be this class, the one you hated the most. the one you dreaded attending every single day. you were so deep in thought that you barely noticed when your professor- dr. kim- walked in, snapping you out of your spiral. he glanced up from his notes, then scanned the room with a smile. “alright, everyone,” dr. kim began, “i’ve got the group project assignments here. please try to work well with your partners, and don't hesitate to reach out if you have any questions.” your eyes widened slightly at his words, gulping as your eyes flickered down to your notebook. group project? there had been no mention of this before. or maybe there was, and you just forgot.

  there was one thing about you. you hated group projects. they were the bane of your existence. you preferred to work alone, at your own pace, and not having to be stressed out by a freeloader or have awkward study sessions that consisted of deafening silence. "and for the final pair…" dr. kim’s voice broke through your haze, "y/n and heeseung." fuck. of course, the universe was never on your side. your eyes shot to him automatically, your stomach doing a flip that had nothing to do with excitement. his eyes flickered to meet yours, his expression unreadable. and then, a quirk of his lips and a tilt of his head. like he was observing you. you groaned internally, wishing for nothing more than for the floor to swallow you whole, turning your gaze back to your notebook. the professor was still talking, but all you could focus on was how you'd somehow ended up in this mess. you barely met this guy, he was an ass, and now you had to work on a project with him. “guess we better get used to each other, huh?” heeseung’s voice was low and casual, breaking the silence between you two. you forced a smile, nodding at him, “i guess.” you were already dreading the next few weeks. you sat in silence for the rest of the class. he didn’t speak to you, and you didn’t speak to him. you wondered if things would’ve gone differently if your morning had gone better, or if heeseung hadn’t been such an asshole. you couldn’t wait to tell wonyoung and yunjin about how shitty your day was already. as dr. kim wrapped up, you sat there, wondering just how you were going to survive this. there was no way to escape the fact that you were going to have to work with heeseung. you only hoped you’d survive it with your sanity intact. he had already proved just how arrogant he could be. the moment dr. kim dismisses class, you’re up out of your seat, dying to get out of this hell-sent class and to the comfort of your go-to café with your friends. you’re so close to the door when you hear his voice- smooth and casual, like he owns the place. “hey, y/n,” heeseung calls, and you freeze, your hand still on the strap of your bag. you turn to face him, trying to hide the frustration written all over your face. “yeah?” you reply, fighting to keep your tone neutral, but he can hear the hint of annoyance in it anyway. he flashes that signature smirk of his, leaning casually against the desk like he owns the whole room. “we’re gonna need to exchange numbers for the project,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “so we can work around my basketball stuff, y’know? i can’t really be falling behind.” you feel your eye twitch. of course anything other than class would be more important to him. the star player of the basketball team is unable to commit to a school project. you push the annoyance aside, instead reaching into your back pocket and pulling out your phone. “sure,” you mutter, handing it to him after opening the phone app. you can’t help but notice how his fingers brush against yours, the touch sending a small chill through you. he taps a few things into your phone before handing it back. “i’ll text you later,” he says, his smile a little too knowing. you can already feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of letting him see it. you nod curtly and turn on your heels, heading straight out the door.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

“and then i woke up late! nothing is working out today!” you whisper-shout, dramatically letting your head fall into your hands as wonyoung watches you with a smile, yunjin scrolling on her phone and only halfway listening to your angry rant. “so, how’s that class going?” wonyoung asks, her tone casual as she stirs her drink. “you still surviving?” you had told them how much you hated your history class, practically having a complaint about something every time you attended it. “barely,” you mumble, finally lifting your head from your hands. “we got assigned group projects today.” wonyoung puffs out a breath of air, squinting her eyes. “brutal. who’d you get paired with?” you glance at her, your face blank, silently hoping she can see the despair in your eyes as you groan, throwing your head back in annoyance before mumbling, “lee heeseung.” you hear yunjin gasp slightly, looking back to see her finally staring at you with wide eyes before slamming her phone down on the table. “wait… heeseung?” she asks, a disbelieving scoff slipping past her lips. “as in the heeseung who’s like… the playboy basketball player?” you nod slowly, suddenly feeling way more nervous than you’d like to admit, “yep. that heeseung.” wonyoung laughs softly, pushing your shoulder with her arm. “no way. the universe really hates you, doesn’t it?” you glare at her, flipping her off with an eye roll, “it’s not funny. i’m gonna slam my head into the nearest wall.” “let’s not do that,” yunjin shakes her head, placing her chin on her palm as she tilts her head at you, “what’s the big deal, anyway? he’s just a player.” you sigh, playing with the rim of your cup while shaking your head, “he was an absolute ass this morning. it was like… the worst first impression of anyone i’ve ever had. i actually can’t deal with that for a whole project on top of the class already being a shithole.” wonyoung leans back in her chair slightly, looking at you with an amused smile. “he can’t be that bad. maybe you’re just having a bad day and he happened to rub you the wrong way.” you roll your eyes, but her words don’t make you feel any better. “yeah, sure.” “plus,” yunjin adds, leaning forward with a smirk, “maybe you can have some fun. i mean, make the most of it. you’re working with lee heeseung. most girls would kill to be in your spot.” you stare at them both, you lips parted in slight disbelief.  “yeah, well they can have him.” the two girls smile at you, clearly more entertained by your suffering and how overdramatic you were. you bring up another topic, eager to get the attention off of you and your project from hell, instead shifting the focus to yunjin’s project in music theory.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

wonyoung was wrong. horribly wrong. heeseung was that bad. you check your phone for the fifth time in the last ten minutes, the glowing screen mocking you with the time. heeseung was supposed to be here half an hour ago. thirty whole minutes. you sigh, your fingers tightening around your phone. you had already texted him- a simple, are you still coming?- but it was staring back at you with “delivered” right under it. your fingers tap against the table impatiently as you stare down at the open laptop in front of you. the library is quieter than usual, the hum of low voices and the occasional rustle of pages filling the space. you consider packing up and leaving, your hands beginning to collect the pencils and highlighters you had set out around you. “you’re pretty dedicated to this, aren’t you?” you don’t even need to look up to know who it is. finally. slowly, you lift your gaze, leveling heeseung with an unimpressed stare. he’s standing there, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, looking completely unbothered. like he hasn’t just left you waiting for half an hour. “you’re half an hour late,” you deadpan. heeseung grins, like he finds your irritation amusing. “technicalities.” you scoff, shaking your head. “you said we’d meet at six.” “yeah, and i meant it,” he says, smirking at the way you roll your eyes. “it’s just that… time is a social construct.” is he fucking serious. you gape at him, your eyebrows furrowed. “are you seriously trying to use philosophy as an excuse?” “would you rather me lie?” he asks, finally sitting, slinging his backpack onto the table. “i’d prefer you actually care about this project. it’s a huge part of our grade, heeseung.” he waves a dismissive hand, pulling his laptop out of his backpack. “relax, princess. i’m here now, aren’t i?” you gulp at the nickname, turning your head back to your laptop to open up the assignment. “barely,” you mumble. heeseung chuckles, enjoying your annoyance. “fine. i had practice, it ran later than expected.” “that’s all you had to say,” you reply, your eyes flickering up to meet his, “and a text would’ve been nice.”

“can’t really text when i’m on the court, princess.” he shoots back, tilting his head with a smile. you exhale sharply, already regretting ever agreeing to meet with him. “can we just start? we’re already behind schedule.” luckily, he agrees, his eyes drifting to his own laptop. you sigh, your own attention drifting back to your laptop. all you can do is hope that things begin to go smoother than this at some point. because right now, you’re considering slamming your head into your laptop or the table. you try to focus, you really do. but it’s hard when every few minutes, heeseung is moving. drumming his fingers against the table, shifting in his seat, clicking his pen as he reads articles on his computer. finally, you snap, your eyes looking up at him from your screen. “are you always this restless, or do you just have an allergy to being productive?” heeseung blinks at you, lips quirking up like he finds your irritation entertaining. “nah, i’m just bored. this class is stupid.” “why are you like this?” you roll your eyes, glaring at him. “even if this class is stupid, it’s still an important project.” “like what?” he tilts his head, all faux innocence, completely ignoring your second statement. “charming? fun to be around?” you scoff. “you were late. plus you were a dick this morning.” heeseung chuckles, shaking his head lightly. “c’mon, princess. loosen up a bit. you’re making a big deal over nothing.” “look, i had a shitty day. you’re not making it any better,” you mutter, scoffing again. a voice in the back of your head wonders if you’ve broken the world record for scoffing this much in five minutes. heeseung leans forward, resting his chin on one hand. “i’m sorry. you know… i’m pretty good at relieving stress.” your jaw drops. “excuse me?” you clear your throat, trying to ignore the way his words have a blush creeping up your cheeks, instead turning your attention back to your laptop. “just focus on your work, heeseung. we need to plan out who’s gonna do what part.” you don’t miss how he tilts his head, a knowing smile on his lips as he clicks his tongue, nodding. “alright. just remember we have to work around my schedule.” you let out a groan, your head rolling back as you look back towards him. “heeseung!” he only laughs in response, shaking his head at how you get embarrassed when other students give you dirty glares. “sorry,” you mumble softly, your eyes glaring at him. “focus.” an hour later, you guys had made relatively good progress. you had divided tasks, and heeseung had done his work, for the most part. he still found every opportunity to get on your nerves, but at least he did so while being productive. you both pack up in silence, swinging your bag over your shoulder. you spare him a glance, mumbling out a small, “bye, heeseung.”

just as you step outside, you hear the unmistakable sound of sneakers scuffing against the pavement behind you, “where you headed?” you turn your head slightly to see heeseung strolling up beside you, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie as he looks down at you. “my dorm,” you reply, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder, “it’s late.” he nods, shrugging as he continues to walk next to you, “i’ll walk you.” you stop in your tracks, turning to face him with narrowed eyes. “why?” he tilts his head, raising his eyebrows slightly. “why not? i have nothing else to do.” “because…” you search for a logical reason, but there really seems to be none. you blurt out the only excuse that comes to mind. “it’s late.” he furrows his brows, falling in place beside you as you begin to walk again. “it’s 7:30.” you glance at him, shrugging. “that’s considered late for some people.” he smirks, tilting his head at you, an amused look on his face. “what if i just enjoy your company, princess?” your face heats at the nickname, and you roll your eyes, quickening your pace. “we barely know each other.” “well, i’d like to change that.” he keeps up effortlessly, long strides matching yours with ease. you scoff, trying to ignore the affect his words have on you. “i think you like to get on my nerves, heeseung.” he grins, nudging your shoulder lightly. “that too.” you sigh, glancing at him before looking straight ahead. but you don’t tell him to leave. maybe a part of you deep down enjoys the company. maybe you could allow for a part of yourself to feel wanted if the campus playboy was walking you back to your dorm. and if your heart stumbles a little when he walks just close enough for your arms to brush, you choose to ignore it. 

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

the door clicks shut behind you, sealing you off from the rest of the world. you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, pressing your back against the door as if that alone could ground you. it doesn’t. your mind is still running, replaying the moments heeseung’s arms brushed against yours, or the cocky smirks he sent your way, or the remarks he would make to get under your skin. with a frustrated groan, you push off the door and drop your bag onto your desk chair. you smush your cheeks with your hands, sighing, as if that will stop the warmth from creeping up your cheeks again. heeseung is nothing but trouble. you know that. everyone knows that. a playboy who knows how to charm his way into girls hearts with cocky words and athletic skills that has anyone swooning. and yet… your stomach twists. you shouldn’t like his attention. you shouldn’t feel special. heeseung flirts with everyone. that’s just how he was. so why was your stomach in knots? why was your mind replaying every interaction with him- no matter how insufferable he was? you collapse onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. you don’t know how to handle this. it’s not like you have experience. no boyfriend, no first kiss, hell, you haven’t even held hands with a guy romantically. the concept of flirting- especially with someone like heeseung, who’s it’s practically second nature to- is foreign to you. you don’t know whether you’re looking too deeply into things, or if there’s actually something there. you turn onto your side, hugging your pillow. reading too many romance novels had truly skewed your perception of love. this wasn’t a movie. the playboy wasn’t going to fall for the girl in class. this was reality, and things didn’t work like that. sadly. you’re overthinking it. reading too deeply into his words, his touches, his actions. but why does your heart speed up at the thought of him? you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut and hoping to turn off your overactive brain. but instead, you feel that same flutter in your chest every time you think about him. the sound of the door opening catches your attention, glancing behind you to see yunjin entering the dorm. her presence relives you slightly, knowing you’ll have a distraction from the storm of confusion in your brain right now. she sends a smile your way, kicking off her shoes and walking towards you.

"what’s going on?" she asks, raising an eyebrow as she surveys you curled up on your bed. "you look like you’re seconds away from ripping all your hair out.” you laugh breathlessly, flopping on your back so you can look at her without straining your neck. “i’m fine.” you watch as she smiles slightly, shaking her head and making her way to the edge of your bed, sitting down. “don’t lie. what is it?” you hesitate, knowing full well what’s bothering you. but you can’t exactly tell yunjin, can you? she knew you better than anyone, knew how insecure you were about having no experience. she would tell you to wake up, and not to fall for his playboy antics. so you shrug, pursing your lips before you speak. “it’s just school. stuff is piling up, and i’m behind on a few assignments. i’m just overwhelmed.” yunjin studies your face, not saying much. you can tell she doesn’t buy it, and for a second anxiety bubbles inside you at the thought that she knows, or that she’ll keep pushing. but she doesn’t. instead, she nods. “i get it. school’s been ass lately. you’re smart, though. you’ll figure it out.” you nod, appreciating the way she doesn’t pry. pushing yourself on your elbows so you’re sitting up, leaning against the headboard, you smile. “well, we’ll see if i actually make it through the semester this time.” she giggles, gesturing for you to move over as she cuddles up beside you. “if you don’t wanna talk about it, what about we watch tv? it could get your mind off of things. we could continue rewatching business proposal?” you smile, your eyes lighting up at the mention of the show. “please, i can’t live without my daily dose of hari and taemoo.” she laughs, turning on the tv and going to netflix. you feel a pang of guilt for lying to her, and her knowing that’s she’s lying. but yunjin is your closest friend, she won’t pressure you for answers, and knows when to stop digging. you shake your head slightly, pushing your anxieties to the back of your head. right now, you just need netflix and yunjin’s presence. everything else can come later.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

you tap your pen against the edge of your notebook, staring at the notes that made you want to rip your hair out. why you had to sit here and listen to your professor talk about smallpox for over an hour was unbeknownst to you. plus, you hadn’t slept well last night. you and yunjin were up until 2 a.m., and when you finally decided to sleep, you couldn’t. your mind kept racing, your bed felt too uncomfortable, the room felt too hot. you didn’t feel like yourself. and then he walked in. hands in his pockets, his backpack slung over one shoulder. he was late, of course he was. it should be annoying- it is annoying, he’s annoying- but for some reason, something in your chest tightens. your fingers curl around your pen, forcing your eyes back to your notebook. this was not happening. you’re just irritated. that’s all. he’s been an ass, he was late yesterday, he’s late today, and he walked in like he owns the place. while you’ve been sitting here for the past twenty minutes, writing down notes that are definitely going to be important for the project. but then he slides into the seat next to you, the smell of his cologne wafting your way as he clears his throat. “what’d i miss?” you turn, narrowing your eyes. “twenty minutes of lecture.” “no shit, sherlock.” he replies, pulling a notebook out of his bag. “mind sending me those notes later?” you shake your head with an eye roll, turning back to the front of the classroom. “this is why you need to show up on time.” “c‘mon, princess,” he mumbles, a hand reaching out to tug at the one of the legs of your chair, “help a guy out.” you gasp at the unexpected tug, turning to glare at him. “what the fuck? stop that.” he only tilts his head, shrugging with that same stupid smirk. your stomach flips again, but this time, you focus on the irritation bubbling inside you. this is exactly why you would never fall for heeseung. because he’s insufferable. he’s rude. he’s never on time. he uses flirting as an excuse to get out of everything, to get girls to bow at his feet. he chuckles, moving his hand away. “you’re annoyed.” “of course i am, heeseung. leave me alone.” you mutter, scoffing as he only shakes his head playfully. “y/n. heeseung.” dr kim. speaks, your body tensing as you turn towards the front of the classroom, meeting your professor’s expectant eyes. “is this something important you would like to share with the class? or would you like to keep bothering everyone with your banter?” your cheeks immediately flush, your body running cold as all the heads in the classroom towards you two. you’ve never wanted the floor to swallow more than you did right now. you shake your head, your voice coming out quiet. “no sir, sorry about that.” heeseung says nothing, simply nodding his head. you were going to kill him. “alright, then. anyway, as i was saying…” dr. kim speaks, continuing on with the lesson like nothing happened as you sit there in humiliation.

“so…” he begins. “shut up.” you mumble back, your voice quiet as your eyes stay trained on your notebook, picking up your pen to continue writing down whatever nonsense your professor spills. you were pissed off now, all thoughts of entertaining the annoying boy sat next to you gone. you didn’t know if he had realized how embarrassed you actually were, but he didn’t push. you watched him shift in his seat so he was facing the front of the classroom out of your peripheral vision, also beginning to jot down notes. the rest of class drags on unbearably slow. you try to keep your focus on the lecture, but your mind buzzes with embarrassment, replaying the way dr. kim had called you both out in front of everyone. when class finally ends, you don’t waste a second in shoving your notebook into your bag, slinging it over your shoulder, and making a beeline for the door. of course, you’re never quite quick enough. heeseung appears next to you, falling in step beside you once again. “you’re really gonna ignore me after that?” you scoff, refusing to look at him as you keep your gaze trained ahead. “that’s exactly what i’m gonna do.” you hear him laugh, one that shows he clearly finds you entertaining. “it wasn’t that bad.” you finally glance at him, an annoyed expression on your face. “we got called out in front of the entire class for arguing like little kids, heeseung.” “and?” he grins, nudging your arm. “it was kinda cute. no big deal.” you inhale sharply, turning away before he can catch the way your face heats up. “you are insufferable. not everyone is as popular as you, alright? i don’t appreciate that many eyes on me.” he hums, tilting his head, as if he’s acknowledging your words. “where are you headed, anyway?” “lunch,” you say automatically, before realizing your mistake. a smirk creeps into his lips, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “perfect. i’m hungry, too.” “no.” you blurt out, your eyes snapping to his. he feigns innocence. “no?” “you are not coming with me, heeseung. i’ve dealt with you enough today.” you clarify, trying to make your expression as serious as you can, looking to your front again. “why not?” he grins, clearly enjoying getting a rise out of you. “we’re partners, aren’t we? we need to work on our… chemistry.” you groan, rubbing your temples. maybe if you ignore him, he’ll take the hint. he does not take the hint. he continues to walk next to you, ignoring the stares of other girls wondering why heeseung is walking around with you.

so now, much to your dismay, you find yourself exiting the building with heeseung beside you, practically- no, literally- inviting himself to lunch. and as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, your stomach is in knots at the thought of spending more time with him. the walk is awfully quiet. heeseung doesn’t say a lot- much to your dismay. you wouldn’t say it’s peaceful, it was far from it. while heeseung may have been relaxed, just enjoying the walk, you on the other hand were losing it inside. caught between being annoyed at him or acknowledging whatever feeling was in your chest every time he was near. it wasn’t like you couldn’t pretend what the feeling was. you knew what a crush felt like. but you didn’t want to pay it any mind. how could you have a crush on lee heeseung? how could you fall for someone this quickly? you had to have set a new record for yourself. you decided it was just the fact that you were yearning for any kind of romantic attention, and heeseung was providing that… kinda. calling you ‘princess’ wasn’t exactly flirting. but you had never had this before, were you just expected to not be flustered? this feeling was treacherous, and you knew it. falling for the playboy was the last thing you wanted to do. you fidgeted with your hands, worries swirling around inside your head as you try to come up with an excuse that doesn’t make you seem like a touch-deprived college student. lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice the incoming cyclist until it’s too late. before you can process what’s happening, a firm grip wraps around your wrist, yanking you backward just in time. your breath stutters, a small squeak leaving you as you crash into something- someone. the scent of his cologne is suddenly overwhelming, your hands instinctively grabbing onto his hoodie to ground yourself. his arm is still around you, his body warm against yours, his grip on your wrist loosening, but not completely letting go. your heart pounds in your chest, and you don’t know if it’s from almost getting run over or him. you can feel his breath fanning lightly against your temple, his chest moving as he breathes in. was he always this built? you knew heeseung was strong, but you had never touched him. “careful, princess,” he murmurs, voice lower than usual. “you trying to get yourself killed?” you blink up at him, your lips parting, but no words come out. not when he’s this close, not when his arm is splayed across your back, his hand still holding onto your wrist lightly. and that’s when it hits you. this is a crush. you like lee heeseung. you pull away quickly, trying to ignore the warmth lingering on your skin as you clear your throat. “i- i wasn’t paying attention.” you stutter out, refusing to meet his gaze. heeseung lets out a soft chuckle, shoving his hands into his pockets as he watches you, nodding lightly. “yeah, i noticed.” you scowl, turning on your heel and stomping toward the café, hoping he doesn’t see the way your ears burn. he keeps up with you, and you can hear the smirk in his voice even when you don’t look at him. “so i don’t get a thank you?” you roll your eyes, trying to fight the blush climbing up your cheeks as you turn your head to the side, never realizing how interesting the road was. “thank you,” you mutter, your voice too quiet he almost didn’t hear. but he hums, and that’s enough for you to know he won’t push further… hopefully.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

it’s been a week. a week of trying to push away the way your heart speeds up whenever heeseung so much as looks at you. a week of acting like the casual touches and the teasing remarks don’t make your stomach flip. a week of trying to convince yourself you don’t like heeseung. a week of failing. now at lunch, you’re sat with wonyoung and yunjin, the conversation flowing easily between them- an annoying professor, a party next weekend, overdue homework- but the words barely process. your eyes are trained on heeseung across the cafeteria. the same place he always sits, with his team and friends, but now you can’t stop looking. he’s leaned back in his chair, laughing at something one of his friends said. he looks beautiful. you can admire his sharp jawline, or the way his adam’s apple moves when he throws his head back, laughing at a joke. and for some stupid, down bad reason, you can’t tear your eyes away. you’re not even aware you’ve been staring until yunjin’s voice snaps you out of it. “you can’t be serious.” your head snaps towards her, blinking in confusion. “what happened?” she doesn’t say anything. instead she pursues her lips, tilting her chin slightly in heeseung direction with a quirk of her brow. “heeseung.” your stomach drops, your mouth opening and closing as she waits for an answer. “it’s not like that,” you blurt, suddenly finding your untouched lunch very interesting. yunjin doesn’t buy it. she crosses her arms, watching you closely. “then why are you staring at him like that? is this why you’ve been so out of it lately?” silence. the air feels too thick, your face burning hotter by the second. you have no good excuse. no answer to her question, because that means you would have to admit it out loud. and you weren’t ready to do that. you hated how obvious you were being, how you were acting like every other girl he’s wrapped around his finger before now. finally, wonyoung- who has been watching this exchange like it’s the most entertaining thing she’s seen all day- chimes in, "i wouldn’t blame you.” you turn to her, your eyebrows raising. “what?” she shrugs, stealing one of your fries before tossing it in her mouth. "i’m just saying, he’s hot. everyone knows that. you’ve been spending a lot of time with him because of your project. i mean… would it be the worst thing if something happened?” your eyes widen more- if that’s even possible. but before you can get any words out, yunjin is speaking. she looks at her like she’s lost her mind, shaking her head quickly. "are you insane? don’t encourage this.” "i’m just saying!" wonyoung laughs, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “you never know.” yunjin scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically. “no, we do know. heeseung is heeseung. an asshole.” she turns back to you, her expression softening slightly. "you just need to be careful.” it’s the same thing she always says. it’s everything that you’ve been telling yourself. you just nod, too embarrassed that they found out to even speak.

silence lingers between the three of you. you look on the food in front of you, the other students walking by, the ground. but you can feel their eyes on you, like they’re waiting for you to acknowledge their words- to say anything. wonyoung breaks the silence, picking at her nails, “i mean, it’s not like you have much experience- let me rephrase- you have no experience with this stuff.” your head snaps towards her, your jaw dropped. “what the fuck?” she smiles at you, shrugging. “i’m just pointing out the facts’ y/n. you get flustered by everything. you’re gonna fall too fast, especially with someone like him. that’s the reality for a romance virgin.” as if this moment wasn’t already embarrassing enough. your face burns, glaring at her. “a romance virgin? what the fuck does that even mean?” you go quiet, realizing you don’t have a comeback to her words, because as much as you hate it, she’s telling the truth. so you resort to sighing, grabbing a fry and plopping it in your mouth. “you guys are so annoying.” yunjin laughs, also stealing a fry from your plate. “we’re being realistic. and looking out for you.” “i don’t even like him,” you mumble, your mouth filled with a bite of food, wonyoung wincing at the sight. you only flip her off in response. she laughs, raising her eyebrows, “right. that’s why you were making heart eyes at him across the cafeteria. i’m surprised you didn’t raise up and start floating towards him.” you gape at her, scoffing as you shove her shoulder. “fuck off! i was not!” she doesn’t respond, but her and yunjin share a knowing look, smiles on their faces as they look back at you. you groan, pressing your hands against your face, “you guys suck. why are you torturing me?” yunjin speaks, her smile already telling you she’s about to make things worse, “just saying, do you really want heeseung to be your first everything?” you reach your hand over the table to smack her arm, practically glaring daggers at her as all she does is laugh. “yunjin! shut up!” she just shrugs, fighting back more laughs as you sulk in your chair, arms crossed against your chest. "what? i’m looking out for you. i mean, at least he’ll be good, he knows what he’s doing.” you decide to ignore her words, your cheeks burning as you look off to the side, sighing at how wonyoung laughs at her words. “i hate you,” you mumble, shaking your head. they only laugh more, wonyoung leaning over to give you a hug. you reciprocate, begrudgingly. you just want the floor to swallow you right now.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

you were late. to be fair, you weren’t that worried. heeseung was never on time to your study sessions. and, if anything, you were only going to be 5 minutes late. pushing open the door of the library, you’re greeted with the smell of books, the quiet sounds of footsteps, and fingers tapping keys quietly. time seems to slow in here, somehow. you like it. it’s so peaceful, everyone minding their own business. you stroll quietly, making your way to the study rooms on the side of the library. you had reserved one of the rooms, sending heeseung a text earlier in the day of which one to meet you at. you walk up to the door, the frosted glass frame with a big blue “5” staring back at you, before pushing it open. you’ll be able to set everything up, maybe get ahead a bit before you have to deal with him, go over things- but he’s already there. your brain short circuits, like all the thoughts you had disappeared. sitting in one of the chairs, leaned back with one leg stretched out and the other one bent. his hair is damp, which you assume is from practice, hanging in his eyes. a white wifebeater clings to his skin, leaving little to the imagination. his shoulders, his biceps, his chest, his torso. you swear you’re going insane. your eyes flicker to the way his forearm flexes when he scrolls on his phone, your fingers tightening around the strap on your bag. it’s only then that you realize you’ve been staring. his eyes flicker up from his phone as his gaze locks on yours, the corner of his lip rising. “like what you see?” you swallow, shaking your head as you step further into the room, letting the door shut behind you. “i’m just surprised you’re actually here on time.” he only nods, completely seeing through your little act. he leans back more, raising his arms above his head. he groans, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the way his muscles flex, or the way his shirt lifts- just slightly, but enough for you to see a sliver of his skin, his abs highlighted by the fluorescent lights shining down on you two. you feel insane. your body heats up, taking a deep breath as you (reluctantly) tear your eyes away from him. you busy yourself with pulling everything you need out, trying to ignore heeseung’s gaze on you. the space suddenly feels too small, and you regret reserving a room. you can’t look at anyone else, can’t find a distraction outside of this room. you’re stuck. heeseung pulls out his own laptop, opening it and speaking, like it’s the most casual thing. “you were staring.” your breath hitches, but you play it off, glaring at him. “i told you, i was surprised you were here on time.” his brows lift in amusement. “that’s all?” you nod, eyes turning back to your screen as you pull up the project. “that’s all.” “alright,” he hums, but the smile doesn’t drop from his face. your face burns, trying to push all thoughts of how good he looked away as you try desperately to lock in, typing out anything that seems of significance. this was going to be a long study session.

that it was. you were nearing the hour and a half mark, your brain starting to jumble all the words you read, taking in too much information at once. if you had to read one more article about the impact of diseases and medicine on our society you were sure you were going to start slamming your head against the table. for once, heeseung wasn’t being a pain. no remarks or teasing. he was silent, actually doing his work. you were grateful for the change, considering how earlier had gone. luckily the tensions had died down, and you two hadn’t talked since you walked in. then, without warning, he leans in. your body tenses, his arm reaching past you to grab a pen that had rolled over to your side. the scent of his cologne filled your nose, along with his breath lightly fanning against your cheek. you swallowed, trying to keep your eyes trained on your laptop like nothing was wrong. but he notices. of course he does. his fingers hover over the pen, but he doesn’t grab it. his gaze flickers to you, the corner of his lip lifting up. “you good?” his voice is lower, the teasing lilt evident in his voice already. you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as you continue typing, trying to ignore how fast your heart is beating, “yeah, i’m fine.” he tilts his head, just watching you. then he moves a bit closer, your breath hitching. “are you sure?” he asks again, smiling slightly. you nod again, too scared to even look his way as you feel your cheeks burning up. “you’re too close. that’s all.” he grins, unable to hide how amusing this is to him, “too close?” you nod, confirming his words with a quiet, “yeah.” he doesn’t back away, instead slowly dragging the pen towards himself as he continues. “what, never had a guy this close before?” you open your mouth to respond- but no words come out. it’s like you glitched, the words refusing to leave your lips as you try to come up with an excuse, an insult, anything to get the attention off of you right now. fuck. he picks up on it immediately. his grin falters slightly, his eyes flickering over your face to gauge your reaction. “you haven’t?” you feel stupid. your chest tightens, embarrassment flooding you. you turn your head quickly- too quickly. not realizing how close the two of you were, your nose brushes against his as you stutter out words. “that’s not- no- i mean-“ “oh my god.” he mumbles, leaning back in his chair. “heeseung.” you speak, your eyes pleading with him. he blinks, the smirk gone off his face and replaced with curiosity. “you’ve never been kissed before? actually?”

“heeseung-” you mumble, no other word leaving your lips as your ears heat up, your stomach twisting as he stares at you. his grin returns, just slightly, a small laugh leaving him as he shakes his head. “that’s.. wow.” he doesn’t sound judgmental, more so surprised, but the damage was already done. “just drop it,” you mutter, suddenly feeling the need to get out of the room, closing your laptop and beginning to pack up. “that’s interesting,” he continues, slowly shutting his laptop as he continues to watch you, “you’re leaving?” you nod, trying to ignore the mortification you feel as you shove things into your backpack carelessly. “it’s already been an hour and a half.” you go to shove a pencil inside, but with how shaky your hands are, it slips through your fingers, landing on the table. “fuck,” you whisper, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear. he reaches for the pen, his fingers moving faster than yours as he twirls it in between his fingers, watching you. “you good?” you nod, holding out your hand for the pen, refusing to meet his eyes, “i’m fine. just- can i have it?” he hesitates, before slowly placing it in your palm. he doesn’t say anything, instead simply watching as you move your hand quickly, shoving the pen into your backpack, before quickly zipping it up and slinging it over your shoulder. you can feel his gaze on you, turning on your heel and making a beeline for the door. “i’ll see you in class,” you mutter, the door shutting behind you as you walk out as quickly as your legs will take you, trying to hold back the flood of emotions and embarrassment swirling inside you.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

it felt like everything hit you the second you stepped through the door. the silence only heightened the sound of your pounding heartbeat in your ears. you kick off your shoes, your hands shaky as you let your backpack fall to the floor. your mind can’t stop replaying every interaction with heeseung earlier that day. but it felt like so much more than that. it was about the way you slipped up, your own body betraying you and the truth slipping out. it wasn’t like being inexperienced was a bad thing- you knew that. but you hated how everyone around you was able to talk about it so casually. while you fell behind and lived vicariously through romance novels and cheesy romcoms. for once, you wanted to know what it was like. and for all people that could’ve found out- heeseung had to know. the boy who had a new girl on his arm every week, who was no stranger to romance. it felt mocking. embarrassing. like the universe was making a joke of you, pointing at you and laughing. your breath catches in your throat, tears spilling down your cheeks before you can process it. you don’t stop them, you don’t react. you simply stand there, small sobs leaving you as the defeated feeling takes over. you’d tried to hard to not let this take over. to be okay with the fact that you hadn’t experienced love yet, it was no big deal. but it somehow hurt more knowing the one you liked was probably the most unattainable person on campus. you shuffle towards your bed, your feet barely leaving the ground until you reach the foot of your bed, letting yourself fall forward, straight into a pillow. your tears soak the fabric, your mind swirling with insecurities and thoughts of yearning. to know. to feel. to be loved. it feels so impossible at this point. like love- true love- will never find you. it felt like everything was boiling over, your body curling up as your tears grow more intense, louder sobs slipping from your lips as your hands grip the pillow. you didn’t even know how long you had been crying for. you cried until no more tears came out, the sobs transforming into quiet sniffles and labored breaths, until exhaustion took over your body and lulled your body into a peaceful sleep, safe from all the worries of the outside world.

but the peace didn’t last. the sound of the door opening stirs you awake, yunjin’s voice filling the apartment. your body feels too heavy, a dull pounding in your head and a lump in your throat still remain as you turn over slowly. you rub your eyes, trying your best to remove the evidence of your breakdown through your sleepy confusion. “-and he was so fucking hot, y/n. ugh, i wish i would’ve gone over to his place. and he told me he had a good time, and he wants to see me again!” she spills, kicking off her shoes and throwing her purse somewhere near the door, flailing her hands as she recounts all the details. she pauses as she turns to you, finally taking in the state you’re in. “were you asleep? sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you up,” she laughs quietly, lowering her voice. you simply shake your head, still coming back to reality as you push yourself up. you speak, your voice scratchy and slurred from lingering exhaustion, “it’s fine. i shouldn’t have fallen asleep that early, anyway.” she walks over, sitting at the edge of your bed and looking at you, a smile on her lips before she takes in your puffy eyes. “you doing alright?” you swallow, pushing down the emotions that threaten to resurface. you nod, forcing a smile. “i’m good. just tired… i’ve had a lot of work lately.” she watches you, her head tilting like she doesn’t believe you. finally, a smile breaks out on her face as she lets herself fall back against your bed, turning her head to face you. “he was so perfect. like, usually i don’t like pisces men, but beomgyu? he was just.. fuck, y/n, i’m losing my mind.” you smile slightly at her lovesick rant, her words filled with a giddy happiness that only love can bring to you. you nod along to her words, her eyes lighting up when she recounts the best details. “are you going out again?” you ask quietly, playing with the hem of your blanket when she stops talking, simply staring at your ceiling with a lovesick smile. that question breaks her out of the trance, turning to you with a grin. “fuck yeah! he asked me to go to his place next? you know what that means,” she trails off, wriggling her eyebrows before kicking her feet, covering her face with her hands as she squeals. you laugh, although deep down, you wish you could know what it feels like. the feeling of being desired, of being wanted. and as yunjin continues to ramble, expressive hands and wide eyes, you can’t push down the feeling that creeps up and surrounds you, making you feel like you’re locked inside a dark room that has no key, no door. like you’re falling behind while everyone races ahead.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

“no.” the word leaves your lips before yunjin can finish her sentence, already knowing where it was going when she started with, “so, i was thinking…” you don’t look up from your laptop, hoping that if you don’t acknowledge them, they’ll drop it. they never do. wonyoung groans, flopping backwards onto your bed before she rolls over on her stomach, resting her chin on her hands as she stares at you. “y/n, please. you literally never go out.” you finally spare her a glance, before looking back at your computer. “i’m busy.” yunjin crosses her arms, a huff of air leaving her. “you fucking liar. all you do is rot in bed. then you wonder why you get no action.” you glare at her, choosing to ignore her jab at your love- or lack thereof- life. “i enjoy the tranquility.” “god, you’re hopeless.” she sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed beside wonyoung’s sprawled out figure. “you need to have some fun for once.” “i do have fun,” you reply, finally shutting your laptop, “a party is not my idea of fun. it’s sweaty bodies, and drunk people, and people making out against walls.” “you’re so dramatic,” wonyoung laughs, her hands tugging lightly at your calves. “it’s one night. maybe something will happen.” you shake your head, ignoring the puppy dog eyes she sends you. “no, nothing will. i’ll go and hate it, want to kill myself, and wish i could be back in bed watching reruns of gossip girl.” yunjin groans, tossing her head back at your resilience. “i’m gonna kill you. you’re coming to this party. you need some action. that’s probably why you’ve been so… whatever you’ve been, lately.” you freeze, shaking your head lightly. “i don’t need action.” wonyoung giggles, turning her head to smile at yunjin. “you know, y/n, she has a point. don’t you think it’s time to put yourself out there?” you roll your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek. “shut up.” but your stomach twists uncomfortably. they don’t mean it in a harmful way- to them it’s just teasing. they don’t know how much you hate having nothing, the fear of putting yourself out there. and after your breakdown a few nights ago, the topic felt heavier. more anxiety fills you as another thought creeps in. impossible to shake, growing larger the more you try to ignore it. if it’s a party, heeseung will be there. he always is. the thought of running into him after your last interaction makes your chest feel tight, your eyes flickering around the room. “i just don’t wanna go,” you mumble, trying your luck again. of course, they don’t listen. yunjin sends you a look, standing up and grabbing your arms, tugging you forward. you gasp, catching your balance before you tumble off your bed. “didn’t i already tell you you’re coming to this party? get up, loser.” you huff, reluctantly listening to her just this once. you toss your feet over the side of the bed, letting yunjin pull you to your feet. “you’re so lucky i love you guys,” you mutter, glaring at both of them. wonyoung squeals, practically flying off of your bed as she wraps you in a hug, jumping up and down. “finally! i’ve been waiting for this day forever!”

you only shake your head, trying to bite back a smile at her excitement. yunjin, on the other hand, has already made her way to your dresser, pulling random clothes out and tossing them over her shoulder. “okay,” she speaks, tossing a pair of shorts that are too short beside her, “we wanna make you look hot. but also not like you’re trying too hard, a good balance. heeseung’s gonna be there, right?” wonyoung laughs, making her way over to yunjin to look at the clothes she’s already picked out, holding them up to your body before nodding or shaking her head. your stomach, however, twists at the mention of his name. “i’m not trying to impress anyone,” you blurt, shaking your head as yunjin pulls out a tiny red dress, “i’m only going because you guys are forcing me.” she gives you a look, raising her eyebrows. “you realize we can see right through you, right? you act like we’re not your best friends. you want the guy, admit it.” you go silent, opting to roll your eyes at her words instead. she only laughs, tossing the red dress at you. “try that on.” “i’m not wearing this,” you mutter, holding it out in front of you.wonyoung whines, shaking your shoulders. “it’s a house party, girl. other people are going to be wearing so much worse. just try it.” you groan, reluctantly trying the dress on. it’s too tight, too short, showing off your body in ways you’re not used to. you look up, gauging the two girls’ reactions. yunjin tilts her head, analyzing you, before finally shaking her head. “no, i don’t think that’s very you,” she says, turning back to your closet. “you wanna look slutty, but like, fashion.” you furrow your eyebrows, almost wanting to laugh at how seriously they were taking this. “great explanation.”

wonyoung gasps, stopping both of you in your tracks. “yunjin, give me that shirt,” she exclaims, pointing to a black lace tube top yunjin is holding up. the lace wraps around itself, one edge falling to create an asymmetrical look. once yunjin hands it over, she grabs a black denim skirt off the floor, holding the items to your body as best she can. “yes. this is it,” she smiles, yunjin nodding beside her. “put this on. you’re gonna look so hot.” you can’t deny wonyoung’s words once you have the outfit on. it looks good, the pieces accentuating your body while not showing off too much. yunjin’s jaw drops slightly, nodding as you spin slowly. “i’m so in love with you.” you smile, shaking your head at her. wonyoung grabs a pair of black heeled-boots, the leather tight around your calves, with a platform that makes you at least 5 inches taller. yunjin nods, looking at wonyoung, “add a leather jacket.” once the whole outfit is assembled, you can’t deny it. you feel hot. you look hot. “you look amazing, y/n. heeseung’s one lucky guy.” wonyoung smiles, stepping up to you to adjust the top. you glare at her, an exasperated breath leaving you. “stop bringing him up. nothing has happened between us.” “yet,” yunjin says, a teasing smile on her lips. “oh, fuck off,” you laugh, flipping her off. you couldn’t help the feeling that settled in your stomach. was it anxiety? excitement? you couldn’t tell, but you knew this was going to be a long night. and maybe, deep down, a part of you wanted heeseung to see you in this outfit.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

you regretted coming the second you stepped through the door. music was blasting through the speakers, the volume combined with all the conversations happening almost unbearable. the smell of weed and alcohol invaded your senses almost immediately. people were everywhere you looked, crowded together. drinking, smoking, dancing, talking, making out. your feet slowed down, suddenly wanting to turn around and go back home. yunjin tugged your arm, forcing your feet to move again as she dragged you along, weaving through the mass of bodies, trying to avoid bumping into anyone. wonyoung was right. people were wearing much worse. you still felt out of place though. like people knew you didn’t normally dress like this. like people knew you were trying to look good just for this party. once the three of you stopped moving, wonyoung looked at you, immediately sensing your discomfort. “you’re fine. no one’s judging you, okay? everyone’s too caught up in their own thing here.” you only nodded in response, glancing around at everyone. “there’s… a lot of people here.” wonyoung laughs, finding your reactions cute. “yeah, that’s usually what it’s like at house parties.” the idea of willingly putting yourself in this environment weekly sent a chill down your spine. things like this weren’t your speed. though, sometimes, you wonder what it would be like to be an extrovert, to enjoy talking to others, spending your days socializing. wonyoung explains something to you, but you’re only halfway listening. your eyes are drifting around the party. looking for something, or someone. hoping to see his black hair in the crowd of people. a bit hard, when half the people here had black hair. “oh- there he is!” yunjin gasps, her words pulling you out of your trance as you look at her, raising your eyebrows. you follow her line of vision, nerves bubbling in you at the thought of actually seeing him- “beomgyu!” she smiles, turning to you and wonyoung with a cheesy grin. “i’m gonna go say hi. i’ll catch you guys in a bit?” “go get your man,” you smile, watching as she heads off, a pep in her step as gets closer to him. you turn back to wonyoung, unsure of what to do now that you were here.

“so, like, what do we do?” you ask, once again glancing around at the people around you. “talk to people. get a drink. find someone hot.” she nudges you at the last option, sending a teasing smile your way. “no.” your reply is immediate, shaking your head. “i’m not having any of my firsts at a random house party.” she sighs, throwing her head back before looking back at you. “you read too many romance novels.” you gape at her, your lips forming into a pout. “a girl can dream. let me wait for the one.” “well, looking like you do tonight,” she pauses, her eyes flickering up and down your figure, “i’m gonna be surprised if no one hits on you.” her sentence sends a hint of excitement through you, but you quickly shake your head, dismissing the feeling. “i’d rather someone not. that would just be awkward. i can’t talk to people.” she laughs, but she’s shaking her head. “this is exactly why you need to go out more. put yourself out there.” you don’t respond, your eyes flickering around the crowd of people once again, watching people's body language, and how they interact with one another. everyone looks so relaxed, simply enjoying the environment. “anyway,” wonyoung speaks, breaking the silence that settled between you two, “i’m gonna go get a drink. do you wanna come?” you shake your head, not feeling like navigating through the crowd of people once again, choosing to wait for wonyoung to get back. “no. it’s fine. i’ll wait.” “alright, do you want anything?” she continues, watching as you shake your head again, denying her offer. “i’ll be right back, then.” you watch as she walks off, weaving through the crowd and heading towards the kitchen. you lean back against the wall, fidgeting with your fingers as you wait calmly for wonyoung to return. she doesn’t. two minutes turn to five, which turns to ten, which turns to fifteen. people were starting to send you looks, wondering why you were standing around alone, with no drink. you felt out of place. no, you were out of place. you glance around, the nerves of everything becoming too overstimulating. you needed to get away from the crowds. slowly, you push through the crowd, making your way to the hallway. you slip past the people having conversations, and the couple making out against the wall. one door is cracked open, which you can only assume means it’s safe to enter. you wait outside for a bit, listening for if there’s any noises. it’s silent. you hesitate for a second, before finally pushing the door open. the room was empty, the quiet away from the loud voices instantly calming your nerves. you shut the door behind you, the noise of the party becoming even more muffled, feeling like a breath of fresh air.

you glanced around the room, your heart nearly stopping. heeseung was leaned against the wall, scrolling on his phone. could this night get any worse? he hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy scrolling on his phone. you gulped, feeling your face flush. you could turn around, you could leave the room. you should do that. but for some reason, your feet wouldn’t move. it was like they were planted into the ground. he lifted his gaze from his phone, locking eyes with you. you felt like a deer caught in headlights. his expression was unreadable, but he tilted his head slightly. a brief moment of silence passed between the two of you, your heart thudding loudly in your chest as he watched you. “y/n?” he asked, his voice sounding a bit surprised. “sorry,” you finally forced out, fidgeting with your fingers as your gaze drifts away from his, focusing on the wall instead. “i thought this room was empty.” he simply shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “too loud out there?” you nod, awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to the other. this somehow felt more suffocating than the party did. “i didn’t mean to… bother you.” you mumble, turning around to head for the door. “you don’t have to leave,” he said, his voice quiet, your stomach fluttering at the sound, “i’m not doing anything. stay if you need a break. if you want.” you stand still, both choices seeming wrong. staying in the room with him felt like a mistake, but walking back out to the chaos of the party felt slightly worse. slowly, you nodded, turning around and stepping further into the room. “okay. uh, thanks.” you both stood there, not saying anything for a moment. you shifted your gaze around the room, your nerves palpable. and heeseung, of course, picked up on it. “this isn’t exactly your scene, is it, princess?” he asked, voice filled with that familiar teasing tone. you tried to ignore how the nickname had your heart doing somersaults, or how your face heated up. everything felt so much more elevated in the room. you swallowed, trying to push your nerves aside as you looked back at him. “uh, no, it’s not,” you mumble, almost wanting to laugh at how awkward you sounded. he hums, pushing himself off the wall and walking towards the bed, sitting on the edge. he looks at you expectantly, only laughing slightly when you raise your brows in response. “are you just gonna stand there the whole time?” your face flushes, suddenly feeling too embarrassed. your body moves before you realize it, getting closer to him. you can feel your heartbeat speeding up, his eyes watching you as you sit down next to him. you’re not an awkward distance away, but you made sure to put some space between the two of you. the room was quiet, except for the noise of your nervous breaths, your fingers fidgeting with each other.

“so,” he began, breaking the silence, “what’re you doing here, anyway?” you look at him, shrugging. “my friends dragged me along.” he hummed, tilting his head, “so then why are you in here?” this was humiliating. “one is talking to her date and another went to get drinks and didn’t come back,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the smile that crept up on his face. “damn, princess,” he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head lightly, “they ditched you?” “i mean, they’re more used to this environment. i wouldn’t wanna, like, hold them back from having fun,” you shrug, glancing down at your hands. “if you say so,” he responds, going quiet for a few seconds before speaking again. “i just still don’t see why you would even come, considering, y’know..” your stomach drops. your eyes flicker up to his, raising your eyebrows slightly. “considering… what?” he tilts his head, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “you’ve never kissed anyone. you weren’t lying about that, right?” heat rises on your cheeks, the embarrassment that hits you suddenly making you feel sick, once again stuck in a room with heeseung and talking about this. “heeseung. i don’t wanna talk about that.” “why? it’s nothing to be ashamed about,” he replies with a shrug, leaning back against the pillows and playing with the hem of his shirt. “you ever had a boyfriend?” “heeseung.” you say, but his expression tells you he’s not letting this go anytime soon. you sigh, your voice quiet, the word coming out as a hushed whisper, “no.” he was quiet, and the more the silence dragged on, the more you felt like you wanted the floor to swallow you. the same humiliating feeling from before was slowly making its way back, the room feeling like it was closing in on you. and then, heeseung spoke. “you ever wonder what it’s like? to kiss someone?” he asks, and you almost want to laugh. “that’s a stupid question,” you blurt before you can stop it, listening to the way he laughs quietly. “sorry. had to make sure,” he replies, and this, for some reason, doesn’t feel as bad as last time did. it doesn’t feel like he’s judging you. more so, just asking questions. “of course i do. it’s kinda hard not to when all everyone talks about is their love lives,” you reply, finally opening up a bit. you don’t know why you’re telling him this much. you could’ve diverted the conversation, made him talk about something else, but you were opening up. you were trying to ignore the anxiety bubbling in your chest. from being in a room alone with heeseung, to discussing your desolate love life with him. it felt unnatural- it was unnatural. you were never one to open up to people easily, but it felt like he did it without trying (well, besides when he wouldn’t like a topic go).

“i could teach you,” he speaks, and your head snaps up to his so fast you’re surprised your neck didn’t break in the process. it felt like time stopped. you couldn’t hear the music outside, or the muffled voices. all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears and the way your breathing picked up. heeseung continued to stare at you, his eyebrows raised slightly as he waited for an answer. “w-what?” you stutter out, trying to convince yourself you heard his words wrong, that you made it up, some kind of excuse. “i said i could teach you. you heard me,” he repeats his words, the corner of his lip lifting up again. your breath hitched. the silence was too loud, the two of you just staring at each other as you tried your hardest to process his words. “you’re joking, right?” you finally ask, your voice quiet, unsure. but he didn’t laugh. he only watched you, his voice dropping just a bit lower. “it’s not hard. if you want, i could teach you.” you sat, frozen. blinking out of whatever daze you were in since he spoke, your eyes flickering the the ground. heeseung- the playboy heeseung, the heeseung you liked- offering to be your first kiss. it didn’t feel right. it felt like the universe was trying to play a sick joke on you. like this would turn out to be too good to be true. you heard him laugh softly, and your eyes drifted back up to him. he seemed to be enjoying how flustered you were, how your brain was quite literally short circuiting. “we don’t have to if you don’t want to. it’s just an offer. but, if you want to, i’m right here.” you felt your heart speed up more at his words. your mind felt like it couldn’t process what was going on. what was the right choice here? one side of you felt like you should laugh it off, change the subject and act like the conversation never happened. continue to save your first kiss for something special. but on the other hand, this did feel special. you were curious. hell, you’ve been curious for the last 22 years. you were caught between forcing down your desires and enlightening them, finally understanding what you’ve been wondering about your whole life. finally being able to understand the conversations, the movie scenes, the books. your mouth opened, a protest about to leave your lips, but no words came out. your words got stuck, your true feelings not letting them leave. heeseung noticed your hesitation, pushing himself to sit up. he watched you, his voice getting softer, quieter. “come here,” he mumbled, his words making your stomach do flips. god, you wanted to slam your head against the wall. your heartbeat sped up, but you moved closer to him anyway, sitting so close your knees were pressed together. you didn’t know what you were doing, but you knew you didn’t wanna turn around and leave. not at this point. heeseung watched you, not reaching out until you had stopped moving. his hand reached up slowly, cautiously, gently cupping your jaw. his thumb brushed over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. his gaze flickered between your eyes and lips, the reality of what was happening sinking it. “you’re nervous,” he whispered, the words spoken like they were a secret just between the two of you. his breath fans across your face, further solidifying the reality of the distance between you two. you nodded, your breath shallow, unsure. you let your own eyes flicker to his lips before moving back to his eyes. you whispered, your voice shaky, “what if i’m bad?” he smiled, his thumb tracing your jaw as he shook his head. “don’t worry about that. just follow my lead.”

you nod, everything feeling like a haze. he leans in slowly, and before you can think too much about it, his lips are on yours. it felt like everything around you stopped. your eyes fluttered shut, your breath stuttering. his lips are soft, and you try to follow his movements as best you can. his touch is gentle, guiding you, taking a first experience from you. the outside world seems quiet, likes it’s just you and heeseung in this moment. he presses his lips a bit harder against yours, tilting your head just slightly. the feeling is all-consuming. overwhelming. you want more and want to get away all at the same time. but it feels nice. it feels like everything you’ve dreamed of. what the lead in a romance movie feels, what the books describe, how your friend’s eyes light up when they tell you about their first kiss with a new guy. he pulls away slowly, his hand still remaining on your jaw. your eyes flutter open, blinking a little, like you’re trying to ground yourself. his face was still so close to yours, your breaths mixing together. his expression was unreadable, and your heart sped up at the reality. “was that okay?” you ask, your voice quiet, barely above a whisper. heeseung stared at you for a moment, not saying anything. his eyes searched yours, his breath soft against your skin, his touch still so light. “yeah,” he mumbled, his eyes still flickering around your face, his thumb tracing your jaw again. “not bad, princess.” you nod, your mind in too much of a haze to mumble out exact words. you eyes flickered to his lips again, fighting the urge to lean in again, to feel the warmth of his lips against yours. but before you could think about it too much, your phone buzzed loudly against your lap, the ringing snapping you back to reality. you blink, still dazed, as you look down on at your phone, shaky hands turning it over, the name staring back at you. wonyoung. shit. you hesitated for a second, before answering the call, pressing the phone to your ear. “hello?” “where are you?” wonyoung’s voice came through, a bit hard to hear over the pounding music. “i came back to the spot you were at. i got caught up with some friends, i’m sorry.” you swallowed, your mind still in a haze. your gaze flickered to heeseung. he was already watching you, having had leaned back against the headboard. “it’s fine,” you mumble, words trailing off. your heartbeat still felt too loud, and your thoughts were jumbled and all over the place. “it’s- i’m just..” heeseung raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. he tilted his head, clearly amused by your inability to form a sentence right now. “hello?” wonyoung’s voice spoke again, pulling your attention back to her. “are you there?” “yeah! yeah, sorry,” you mumble, pursing your lips. “i’ll be right there.” “okay. i’ll see you soon.” she replied, the line going dead.

the room went silent, filled with nothing but the awkwardness swirling around the two of you. you were too afraid to meet his gaze, so you stare at your hands, before standing up slowly, placing your phone in your pocket. “um… i should go. i’ll see you around?” heeseung didn’t say anything, and you took that as your cue to just leave. you walked towards the door, trying to form a coherent thought as you reached for the doorknob. his voice finally cut through the quiet, making you stop in your tracks. “you know,” he began, his voice teasing, with a hint of something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint, “you look nice tonight.” the words sent butterflies swirling in your stomach, closing your eyes as you tried to ground yourself. what was wrong with you? you didn’t turn around, too scared to meet his eyes. you couldn’t. so you only nodded, your voice shaky, “thank you.” you opened the door, stepping out and back into the party. it felt like you were snapped back to reality the second the loud music hit your ears, met with the sight of a swarm of people again as you pushed through the crowd. you tried to ignore the way your lips still tingled, or the way your cheeks heated up when you thought about his hand on your face, his breath so close to you, his lips against yours. you almost bumped into someone, muttering out a pathetic “sorry” as you corrected your path, finally catching a glimpse of yunjin and wonyoung standing together, talking about some random topic. wonyoung noticed you first, smiling and waving as she noticed you walking over. you wave back, forcing a smile as you join up with them. all you know is that you’re going crazy. you kissed heeseung. your first kiss. was it a mistake? did you make too irrational of a decision while being caught in the moment? your thoughts are interrupted by yunjin’s loud voice, pulling you back to the current moment, “you missed everything, y/n. i had so much to talk about. where were you, anyway?” you open your mouth, your eyes flickering between the two girls watching you with expectant stares. you should lie, make some kind of excuse to avert the attention from you, ask what yunjin had to talk about. but the thought of hiding your feelings from them more than you already are makes a sick feeling appear in your stomach. “i kissed heeseung.” the words are out before you even realize you said that. they stand there, unmoving before yunjin speaks, “you what?”

wonyoung only covers her mouth with her hand, a loud gasp leaving her lips as she looks between you and yunjin. you stare sheepishly at the two, no more words leaving your lips as you open and close your mouth, wonyoung finally forcing some words out. “bitch, are you serious?” the reality of everything feels like it’s hitting you all over again, a shaky breath leaving your lips as you look up, trying to form a sentence in your mind before you speak out loud. “i kissed heeseung. or, he kissed me. we kissed each other? i don’t know…” you cover your eyes with one of your hands, clenching your eyes shut. everything feels too surreal right now. yunjin blinks, shaking her head as she tries to make sense of the situation. “hold on, start from the beginning, please. what the fuck happened?” you laugh shakily, shrugging as words come spilling out, “i just- i needed a break from the party, so i went into what i thought was an empty room, but he was in there. he told me i could stay, and we started talking, and he brought up the fact that i’d never kissed anyone-“ wonyoung cuts you off, raising an eyebrow. “how did he know that?” you gulp, averting your eyes. “that’s a story for another time.” the two share a look, but don’t interrupt you again, letting you continue. “anyway, he said he could teach me… and, yeah,” you mumble, words getting quieter as you finish the story, finally looking back at the two. yunjin’s jaw is dropped, and she turns to wonyoung with a glare. “you left her alone for ten minutes and she kissed heeseung?” “i wanted a drink!” wonyoung defends herself, pointing at you, “i didn’t know she was gonna sneak off and make out with someone while i was gone.” your cheeks heat up, shaking your head quickly. “it wasn’t like that. it was just one kiss.” yunjin only laughs, giving you a hug. “well, congratulations. my baby is all grown up.” “oh, fuck off,” you mutter, but your arms wrap around her, fighting back a smile. “was it good?” wonyoung asks, your eyes widening. “like… is he really that good of a kisser like everyone says?”

your breath hitches at the question. your mind flickers back to how his lips felt on yours, how softly he held you, his breath soft against your lips, how his voice dropped, quiet and gentle. the way everything made you felt. your heart speeds up again at the thought, and you swallow, hesitating slightly before answering, trying to disguise the true thoughts you have. “i don’t know, wonyoung. it was my first kiss. how am i supposed to know what good means?” you reply, huffing out a laugh. she groans, unsatisfied with your answer, but she doesn’t push further. yunjin pulls back from the hug, but her hands remain on your shoulders. “you kissed lee heeseung. the lee heeseung. and he offered to teach you. girl, you’re in so deep.” you shake your head, feeling your cheeks heat up even more, if that’s possible. wonyoung chimes in, tugging your arm. “okay. back to your dorm, right now. tell us everything. leave absolutely nothing out.” you only laugh, but let wonyoung drag you along, yunjin following closely behind. the comfort the two provide for you makes things feel not as stressful, trying your best to push the anxieties and self-doubt about the turn the night took away.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

your stomach was a mess of nerves as you stepped through the classroom door. it wasn’t that you didn’t expect to see heeseung- you knew he was going to be here. but you didn’t know if you were ready. you had spent the past two days replaying every moment, every detail of that night, too caught up in your own thoughts. you tried to convince yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that it was just a kiss, but your true feelings betrayed you. you spotted him in what had become his usual seat- which was previously yours- scrolling on his phone, leaned back in the chair. you swallowed, getting closer to the seat as you put on a front, acting as nonchalant and unaffected as you could.  you slid into the chair next to him, pulling out your notebook and letting your bag hit the floor with a soft thud. you busied yourself with opening to an empty page, dragging your pencil along the page to make random, pointless drawings. anything to try and ease your nerves at the moment. “hey, princess,” heeseung spoke, his voice carrying that signature teasing lilt. his tone was so casual, like nothing had happened. you tried to ignore the way your heartbeat sped up at the sounds of his voice, or the nickname that used to make you grind your teeth. “i didn’t see you after you left the room. i thought you disappeared.” you finally glanced at him, your eyes meeting his. “i’m still here. sadly.” his lip twitched, that signature smirk forming on his lips. “good to know.”

his tone was so casual, so normal. but yet, things felt different. maybe it was the way he was watching you- his gaze lingering for just a second too long before looking away. or how he wasn’t teasing you as much, you two having a normal conversation for once. you were reading too much into it. this was the last thing you wanted to do. you kissed him because he offered to teach you. there was no meaning, no feelings behind it- on his end. you cleared your throat, turning back to your notebook. “did you look over the project? i added some notes to the shared document. there’s an article that seems like it could be helpful.” he shook his head, leaning forward so his elbows were on the desk. “nah. i’ve been busy with practice.” you roll your eyes, but the usual irritation didn’t come. you continued to doodle on your notebook, trying to focus on the small flower you were creating. but you couldn’t ignore the way you could feel his gaze on you, making heat rise to your cheeks. “you’re staring,” you mumble, eyes still trained on the flower, adding small blades of grass at the bottom, adding another small flower next to it. “am i?” he asked, and you could see the way he tilted his head in your peripheral vision. “i didn’t notice.” you huffed out a breath, forcing yourself not to react. if you gave him an inch, he’d take a mile, pointing out every little flustered reaction you have. it was the last thing you needed. dr. kim entered the room, greeting the class, indirectly saving you from having to reply. you tried to focus, jotting down whatever he mentioned, but your focus was somewhere else entirely. every time heeseung moved, shifting in his seat, tapping his pen against your notebook, your attention would be drawn to him. you couldn’t stop it. as much as you tried to focus, trying to ignore him, your mind wouldn’t let you. you felt like a middle schooler with a pathetic crush all over again. it was stupid. he was acting normal. you were (trying to) act normal. so why did nothing feel normal? slowly, your head turned just slightly, looking towards him. but he was already looking at you. he didn’t look away, your eyes meeting for a fleeting second. your breath caught in your throat, and you turned back to your notebook quickly, shifting in your seat. you were screwed. your heart lurched, your pulse quickening. a small part of your mind tells you that you’re not imagining things- that something has shifted. something is different. but you can’t place your finger on it. you feel like you’re making yourself go crazy, overanalyzing every little detail. every little glance, every sentence, hell, you payed attention to the tone of his voice. all you know is that you’re fucked. you’re officially down bad for lee heeseung.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

your day had been horrible. you wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep, forgetting that this shitshow of a day ever happened. you woke up late, the shrill sound of your alarm shocking you awake, the time on the clock practically mocking you as you realized you were going to be late to class. you rushed your morning, not even having enough time to get breakfast, leaving your stomach growling as you rushed to class. you looked like you had just rolled out of bed- which was the truth- as you walked into the classroom, sending an apologetic smile as your professor glared at you. the lecture was a blur, and to make matters worse, you absolutely failed your test. you knew you weren’t confident with the material, but to have a low c staring back at you made you feel too incompetent. your professor didn’t even hide her disappointment, shaking her head as she placed the paper on your desk, your ears turning red with embarrassment. now, your heavy feet were carrying you to your favorite café, your comfort away from the hectic world, the one place that brought you peace after a bad day. about halfway there, it had started sprinkling, small droplets landing on you as you walked. it truly felt like you had a rain cloud above only you, making fun of how bad your day had gone so far. you pushed open the door to the café, the comforting smell filling your senses, and you felt the tension in your body ease just slightly. you tried to ignore the looks of other patrons, wondering why you had no umbrella, your hair and clothes damp as you stepped inside. all that was on your mind was a hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream. you’d been dreaming about it since you walked into class earlier, making a promise to yourself you would pick one up after class to hopefully raise your dejected feelings. of course, the universe had other plans. the cup looked fine, the white paper concealing what was inside. but when you took a sip, the sharp taste hit your tastebuds, completely wrong. bitter coffee covered your tongue, making your face scrunch up. you blinked in confusion, slowly popping the lid off the cup. they had given you straight black coffee. you stared at the coffee, your pitiful stare reflecting off the dark liquid. you sighed, frustration bubbling up inside you. you weren’t going to make a scene, you were too exhausted for that. it wasn’t what you did. but you also knew if you didn’t have your hot chocolate you were going to go insane. was it pathetic that a drink could help make your day that much better? maybe.

you walked back up to the counter, politely pointing the mistake out to the barista, even pulling out your crumpled up receipt from your pocket to solidify your point. she didn’t seem to care, staring at you blankly before taking the cup with a sigh, muttering out a half-assed apology. you wanted to say something, your inner dialogue filled with very creative language as you watched her roll her eyes when she turned around. you felt like a burden, the comfort this place usually provided suddenly turning into a unpleasant experience. they finally handed you the right drink, about five minutes later. it should’ve made things better, but it didn’t. you thanked her with the biggest smile you could muster, apologizing for the inconvenience and turning around. you were starting to walk to your favorite seat, a table in the corner that gave you a perfect view of the scenery outside, a perfect place to put in your headphones and daydream. and that’s when it happened. too focused on the previous interaction, too distracted with everything that had gone wrong today. you ran into someone- hard. your shoulders slammed into each other, the force making you stumble backwards, your drink almost spilling. some splashed out the small opening, the hot liquid splashing against your hand, causing a small curse to leave your mouth as you winced. you steadied yourself, looking up at the stranger. an apology was on the tip of your tongue, ready to admit that you weren’t paying attention, but that’s when you saw his expression. cold. angry. he looked you up and down, like you were a piece of garbage. as if you were an inconvenience. like you had ruined his whole day, his eyes full of judgement. he didn’t bother to say anything, let alone hear whatever you had to say as he scoffed and continued on his way. it felt like a slap in the face. your mouth opened, almost ready to sputter out insults, but no words came out. suddenly, it felt like the weight of everything that had happened today was crashing down on you. your rushed morning, your failed test, your disappointed professor, the rain, the wrong order, the barista, this stranger- his glare, like you meant nothing. it all felt like too much. hot tears brimmed your eyes before you could get your emotions in check. you turned around, pushing open the café doors, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. the soft rain from earlier had begun to fall in fat, harsh drops, pouring down on everything. the weather felt like an accurate representation of your emotions in the moment, cold, sad, chaotic. you pressed a hand to your forehead, trying, and failing to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. a lump formed in your throat, and you leaned back against the wall of the café. you pulled your phone out from your pocket, trying to ignore how pathetic your reflection looked as you unlocked it, a tear slipping down your cheek as you opened your contacts, your fingers immediately finding yunjin’s name as you pressed the call button. it was like once one tear fell, the floodgates opened. you couldn’t control them anymore, tears spilling down your cheeks as you wiped at your eyes pathetically. the only noise being the quiet ringing of your phone, the rain falling, and your quiet sniffles.

it went to voicemail, yunjin’s happy voice breaking the sad silence. you tried again. still no answer. more tears fell, moving onto wonyoung next. it repeated the same process, ringing. and ringing. and ringing. and then- voicemail. you tried once again to be sure, clinging onto any ounce of hope. same result. you could feel your heart shattering more and more. you felt alone. your sniffles turned into quiet sobs, clutching your phone as you tried to catch your breath. everything felt too overwhelming, too out of your control, too messed up. you were stuck here. you couldn’t walk home, the rain was too strong. you couldn’t go back inside, not looking like this. everything was slowly unraveling. your closest friends weren’t even picking up, and you couldn’t get mad at them for it. they had lives too, not always able to drop everything for you. but the betrayal still stung, everything feeling like a personal attack at this point. you forced yourself to breathe, slowly unlocking your phone once again. you scrolled through your contacts, blurry, tear-filled vision making it harder. you just needed someone, anyone who you could call. anyone who could come get you. your eyes stopped on one person, your heart beating faster at the thought. you clicked on his contact, you finger hovering over the call button, before finally, you pressed it. it rang once. twice. three times. you were losing hope, more tears spilling down your cheeks as the reality of your situation set in. and then- “hello?” your breath catches. you hadn’t expected someone to actually pick up. everything felt so hopeless, the sound of someone’s voice sending a shock through you. you sniffle quietly, trying to get a word out, but it’s like they’re all caught in your throat. “hello?” heeseung repeats again, his voice more clear this time. “are you there?” you take a deep breath, forcing your tears and shaky breaths to calm down. you feel like if you speak a new wave of tears will just spill down your cheeks. “i-“ you start, before your voice breaks. you swallow, trying again. “i need a ride… it’s raining. no one else was picking up.” there’s a long pause, silence stretching between the two of you. you begin to feel stupid for calling, for being such an inconvenience to another person, more than you’ve already been today. you hear a small laugh on the other end, your eyebrows furrowing slightly at the sound. “can’t handle a little rain, princess?”

frustration builds inside of you, but you hold your feelings down. this, however, makes the dam in your eyes break again, more tears spilling down your cheeks. “heeseung, please,” you sniffle, sucking in a shaky breath as you try to get your emotions in check again. the teasing tone of his voice is gone almost immediately, replaced by confusion as he speaks again. “y/n? are you okay?” your breath catches at his change in tone. you didn’t want to be a burden to anyone, didn’t want to push your emotions onto someone else, all because you couldn’t handle a bad day. but everything was too much right now. “yeah,” your speak, you words quieter than you expected, a shaky tone to your voice. “just… tired.” he’s silent for a bit, before he speaks again, and you can hear shuffling on the other end, the jingling of car keys sending a small hope through you. “where are you?” “the café near campus. the one we went to that one time,” you force out, trying your hardest to sound normal. and not like there’s tears slipping down your cheeks. you think you must look insane. standing under the awning of a café in the pouring rain, tears streaming down your cheeks as you hold a hot chocolate and a phone. it must be a laughable sight. heeseung’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, calm and serious, a vast difference from the usual teasing, smug tone he has. “i’ll be there soon. when i get there just walk to my car, alright? i’ll pull up next to the curb.” you nod, forgetting he can’t see you. when you finally speak, your voice is barely above a whisper, defeated, shaky. “okay.” the call ends, leaving you in silence again. a shaky sigh leaves your lips as your hand wipes your tears, trying your best to collect yourself. you take a sip of your hot chocolate, the warm liquid providing a small sense of comfort in whatever whirlwind your day has turned into. nerves fill you again, the thought that you could be a burden creeping into your mind. your hands shake as you rub at your eyes, trying to push the thoughts away. god, you don’t wanna be a total mess when heeseung gets here, but you can’t stop crying. you force yourself to focus on something different. business proposal, hot chocolate, your favorite salad, cats. anything that makes you happy. and slowly but surely, your tears turn into small sniffles. you watch cars drive by, but there’s not a lot. most classes are out by now and students don’t wanna be parading in this rain. the rain doesn’t let up- if anything, it’s gotten heavier, wind whipping around you at this point. after a few minutes, you finally see a car pulling up. the sight is so reassuring, but you can’t stop the way your pulse speeds up, or the nerves that run through you. your feet don’t move at first, still too caught in your emotions to move. you take a small step, slow, cautious, before the rain showers you, pelting, hard. you speed up quickly, ignoring the chill of the water as you cling to your hot chocolate, as if that will do anything to warm you up in this weather. it’s lukewarm by now, anyway. when you reach the car, heeseung’s eyes are on you, the window rolling down as you get closer. “get in,” he says, voice low, but not unkind, “you’re shaking.” you can only nod, pulling open the door and slipping inside. the warmth of the car immediately envelops you, feeling like a warm hug. you try your best to ignore the way your clothes, now wet, feel against your body. neither of you says anything, but you can feel his eyes on you. you finally turn, meeting his eyes. he looks… concerned.

he raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to speak. you don’t. so he finally does, his voice softer than it was before. “you wanna talk about it?” you shake your head, a new wave of emotions hitting you at his question. you blink back the hot tears brimming your eyes again, snapping your head towards the window as a shaky breath leaves you. “thank you,” you sniffle, your voice quiet. defeated. he hums, his voice reassuring, whether he means it or not. it feels like it’s grounding you in the chaotic mess of your emotions. “don’t worry about it.” without another word, he pulls away from the curb. heading towards the dorms. he doesn’t tease you, doesn’t ask any more questions. the only noise is the soft radio, the car’s engine, and the rain pattering outside. you bite your lip, trying to hold back a new wave of tears as you rest your head against the window. it doesn’t work. tears spill down your cheeks, your breathing irregular, labored, as you try to stay quiet, wiping at your eyes as inconspicuously as you can. heeseung notices, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. he doesn’t push, simply turning up the volume of the radio, masking the sounds of your tears behind the music. it’s such a small action, but it makes your stomach flip, taking a small sip of your hot chocolate to ground yourself. as you get closer to the dorms, your thoughts swirl, uncontrollable, chaotic. you close your eyes, taking deep breaths. you need to forget about today. pretend it never happened, pretend it was all just a nightmare that you’re going to wake up from tomorrow morning. but as you sit there, dried tears on your face as you look over at heeseung, your heart speeds up a bit. maybe you needed a distraction. maybe you just needed… something to take your mind off of the day. he turns to you, meeting your eyes, and you glance down at your hands quickly. god, you must look like shit right now. would it be weird if you asked for another kiss? would that actually take your mind off of how bad today was? thoughts swirl in your mind, half of yourself telling you to just go for it, be bold, ask for what you want. the other side battles it, scenarios of him giving you a dirty look, like the stranger did, filling your mind. you sigh, shaking your head. there’s too much going on in your mind right now for you to also be dealing with this. the car slows as heeseung pulls up outside your dorm. the low hum of the radio filling the tense silence between the two of you. you should leave. unbuckle your seatbelt, thank him for the ride, open the door, and go back to your dorm. but you don’t. you sit there. your fingers tighten around the cup in your lap, feeling the paper mold to your grip. you can feel his gaze flickering to you. waiting. you keep your eyes fixed on the window, watching the rain droplets race each other down the glass. your heartbeat sped up in your chest, the pounding in your ears drowning out the noise of anything else. you should just go. but you can’t move. you inhale shakily, focusing on every ounce of courage you have. “heeseung,” you begin, but the moment you turn your head, his attention on you, the words get caught in your throat. refusing to leave. he hums, waiting for you to continue. you swallow, nerves building. this is stupid. this is so stupid. what if he says no? what if laughs in your face? the weight of today is already pressing down on you, heavy, suffocating. if he rejects you, if he looks at you with even a fraction of the disdain the stranger at the café did, you might just end it. you should forget it. push your thoughts aside and leave the car. just curl up in bed and go to sleep. your thoughts aren’t correct right now. your mind is jumbled, your emotions are out of whack- but then he shifts slightly. placing his elbow on the center console as he faces you. his full, undivided attention on you. he’s waiting.

your breath stutters, heat climbing up your neck. “at the party,” you begin, your voice quiet, barely above a whisper. “when we-“ you stop, shutting your eyes for a second. it’s too late to back out now, you’re already speaking. “when we kissed.” he doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, simply waiting for you to continue. your breath is shaky, your next words unsure. “did that mean anything to you?” you regret the words the moment they leave your lips. you sound desperate. pathetic. needy. you shake your head quickly, shutting your eyes. “forget it,” you mumble, as if you can take back the words you just said. “i’m a mess right-“ “i wouldn’t have done it if it didn’t,” heeseung speaks, cutting you off. his voice is quieter than usual. softer, but still firm. “that was your first kiss.” your pulse stutters, a breath catching in your throat. you finally turn to look at him, your stomach twisting at the intensity of his gaze. you should stop talking. end this before you do something you’ll regret. but you keep talking, your voice so quiet, you’re unsure if he hears it over the sound of the radio. “can you… can you do it again?” his eyes widen a bit, but the moment is brief. a flicker. and then that unreadable look is back. you want to take your words back immediately, erase this moment from existence entirely. “you don’t have to,” you add, words tumbling out before you can stop them. “it’s just- fuck. today has been horrible, and i can’t stop thinking about that kiss, and i thought that maybe-“ “are you sure?” heeseung asks, cutting your rambling off again. his voice is softer now, almost as quiet as yours. like these words are only meant to heard by the two of you, hidden from the rest of the world. you swallow, setting your cup in his cup holder. you don’t trust your voice right now- can't trust it- so you nod instead. for a second, he only watches you, his expression unreadable. it sends a chill through you, anxiety seeping in. then he slowly reaches up, tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear. his touch is soft, barely there, but it’s everything you need right now. his gaze flickers over yours- searching for any signs of hesitation. like he’s waiting for you to pull away. but you don’t. you lean in slightly, a silent confirmation. and that’s all it takes. “okay,” he murmurs. and then his lips are on yours again. his lips brush against yours, soft, careful, like he’s still making sure this is what you want. he doesn’t press hard, his hand holding your jaw, his lips barely there. you shudder at his touch, at the feeling of him. and then you kiss him back. it's hesitant- unsure. you still don’t know how to do this, how to match someone’s rhythm, someone who knows what they’re doing. but heeseung doesn’t rush you. it’s not overwhelming. he just guides you, and you let him. he tilts his head slightly, molding his lips against yours, coaxing you to follow his lead. and you do. you follow the way his lips move, melting more into the kiss by the second. you can feel his other hand moving, his fingers ghosting over the side of your neck. you shiver at his touch, the warmth, the position of his touch sending a wave of heat rushing through you. his fingers rest on the back of your neck, just below your hairline. his touch is gentle, guiding you closer to him, and you let him, instinctively moving closer to him. the kiss deepens just slightly, his hand pulling you even closer. you should pull away. stop here. this should be enough. but you want more. a flicker of something unfamiliar and new buzzes in your chest, and you’re moving before you can think too much about it. your hands reach out, finding the front of his hoodie as your hands grip the fabric, pulling him even closer.

that changed everything. heeseung exhales sharply against your lips, and then he’s kissing you harder, deeper. your brain short circuits, the added intensity unfamiliar, but so welcomed. his grip on the back of your neck loosens, his fingers tangling in your hair. a small noise escapes you, desperate, wanting. it’s barely audible over the noise of the radio and the rain against the windshield. but he hears it. you know he does. you feel the way his fingers tighten in your hair, tilting your head as he deepens the kiss, a quiet hum vibrating in his throat. your head is spinning. it’s only your second kiss ever, you’re still fumbling to keep up, still clumsy in your movements. but the way he’s holding you, guiding you through it like he knows exactly what he’s doing- he does- you don’t have to think too much. you just follow his movements. your body melts into his touch, the nerves leading your body as you focus on his kisses and nothing else. your fingers loosen their grip on his hoodie, threading into his hair, your fingers tightening slightly. his breath hitches for a second, a noise leaving his lips. it sends a shiver down your spine. his lips slow, his kisses growing softer again, like he’s trying to ground himself. the thought makes your stomach flip, so many different feelings swirling inside you. new feelings. foreign feelings. but you love them. neither of you speak when you finally pull away, your foreheads resting against each other. you’re both breathless, lips parted and swollen as you catch your breath. your hands stay tangled in each other’s hair, like neither of you want to let go just yet. the air is thick with something unspoken, like a line was crossed tonight. you don’t care right now. you don’t want to think about that. part of your mind knows you should pull away, create some distance before this goes further than it already has. but you don’t want to. so you don’t. your fingers that are tangled in his hair tighten slightly, and before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning in again. pressing your lips against his, not soft, not gentle. you want more. heeseung exhales softly, and it’s like his resolve snaps. like everything he was holding back breaks at your movements. his hands drop to your waist, tugging slightly. you pull away from his lips, your breath heavy as your brows furrow. “what-“ you begin, blinking in confusion. he cuts you off with a quiet laugh, his voice almost teasing, but with a hint of warmness that’s not usually there. “trust me.” and you do. you let his hands lift you, the space between you becoming increasingly smaller. the awkwardness of the car’s cramped interior makes your movements more careful. you let him guide you over the center console, your body bending slightly as it digs into your legs. and then you’re in his lap. his hands remain on your waist, just holding you, watching you. your hands rest on his shoulders, steadying yourself. the new proximity makes your pulse stutter, so close to him it feels dizzying. his eyes search over your face, before his hands find your back, and he’s pulling you into him. his lips are on yours again, and every thought you had vanishes. this kiss is different than the other two.

it's hungrier, more desperate. like he was holding back, waiting for permission to let go. and you gave him that. his hands are everywhere- your back, trailing up your sides, your thighs, your hips, his touch desperate. like he’s trying to commit you to his memory. it's dizzying. intoxicating. your hands tangle in his hoodie again, trying to ground yourself as a small noise slips past your lips. everywhere he touches feels like it leaves fire in his wake. and then his lips leave yours. your breath catches as his lips move lower. he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw. the sensation is foreign. it’s overwhelming. you can feel his breath against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as a sigh leaves your lips. his hand on your thigh tightens at the noise, a noise coming from deep in his throat as his kisses become messier. his kisses trail along your neck, sucking, kissing, his breath ghosting over your skin. you felt hot. your fingers tighten in his hoodie, a sharp exhale leaving your lips. your heart is racing, your breathing picking up. your body is reacting to sensations you’ve never experienced before. your head falls back slightly, his lips exploring more area. it’s intoxicating. dizzying. but it’s a lot. it’s too much all at once, as much as you want more. the moment you shift slightly, heeseung notices. his kisses stop, but he doesn’t pull away. his breath is warm against your neck before, slowly, he lifts his head, his gaze searching yours. his grip on your body loosens slightly, just resting there now. “you okay?” his voice is low, laced with something that makes your head spin. “too much?” you swallow, grounding yourself. you want this. you want his touch, his kisses, his attention on you. but it feels like it’s moving too fast, caught between the two emotions. you nod, before quickly shaking your head. “i-“ you stutter, your voice quiet, breathy and shaky. “i don’t know. it’s a lot. but i want it.” his brows draw together slightly. he doesn’t look angry, he looks concerned. his voice is quiet, comforting. his hands slide to rest on your waist, simply holding you. “we’ll stop for now. i don’t want to rush you.” his voice is steady, but his breathing is uneven. there’s an emotion in his eyes you can’t place. they’re darker, flickering over your face. your heart lurches at the mention of ‘for now.’ he wants more as well. you exhale, your breath shaky as you nod. “okay.” you want to feel something more. you don’t want to move, don’t want to leave the moment. so you lean in, your cheek resting against his shoulder as you breathe out, the warmth of his body grounding you. his hands hover slightly over your waist, before they trail up your back, hands splaying out as he tugs you closer to him. it’s intimate. too intimate. you’re crossing a line, and you know it. his chest rises and falls beneath you, his steady breathing calming your erratic heartbeat. the warmth of his body feels like a blanket, everything quiet. you let the silence wash over you. it’s not awkward. it’s comfortable. the only sound that surrounds you is the rain, and the soft radio, “delicate” by taylor swift playing quietly.

his thumbs rub against your back, the small action causing a quiet hum to leave you as you shift against him, getting more comfortable. you hear a quiet laugh leave him, so soft it almost just sounds like a breath. his voice is soft, but it has the familiar teasing tone you’re used to. “you good, princess?” the nickname feels different this time- not used to tease anymore. like an unspoken acknowledgement that something has shifted, the layers of tension being peeled back slowly, your desires coming to fruition more every time you see him. it’s something neither of you want to say out loud, but you both feel it. you smile softly, nodding your head against his shoulder. “yeah. i’m good,” you whisper, your voice soft. he hums, tilting his head slightly so his lips brush against your ear as he speaks again, his voice so soft. “you sure? i know that was… a lot.” and you know it was. you’re feeling so much. so many feelings swirling in your chest. but you only nod, not wanting to break the moment. “yeah.” you press closer into him, snuggling up against his warmth. his arms tighten just slightly around you, locking you in his embrace, like you would ever want to leave. “i’m not going anywhere,” he laughs softly, feeling your hands grip his hoodie just a bit tighter. his voice has a warmth you’ve never heard before, the tone making your stomach flip, and you only hum in response, snuggling your head further against his shoulder. you know you’re down bad, you know you’re falling. hell, you’ve already fallen. part of you knows it’s a bad idea. while the other part just wants to live. wants to experience this moment. the serenity, the soft sound of the radio, and the warmth of lee heeseung. and for the first time today, it doesn’t feel like everything is falling apart.

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“i don’t know!” you cry out, throwing your hands up as you stare at the two girls sat in front of you with their jaws dropped. "i don’t even know what happened! it’s all a mess!” yunjin stands up, immediately pacing the room as she looks at you, shaking her head in disbelief. “wait, let me get this straight? you made out with him. in a car. in the rain? y/n, what the fuck?” wonyoung, still sitting, crosses her arms. “and you didn’t think to- what, call us? text us? i don’t know, anything.” you roll your eyes, staring back at her. “i did call you guys. yunjin was too busy getting her back blown out by beomgyu, and god knows what you were doing. he was the last person i could call, and i wasn’t about to walk home sobbing in that rain!” yunjin stops pacing, turning to you with her jaw dropped. “that’s a valid reason to not pick up the phone!” wonyoung’s face scrunches up in confusion, her head tilting. “you called me? i was watching youtube, i swear my phone didn’t ring.” you throw your hands up in frustration. “i don’t care! it’s in the past, i’m just- fuck, i’m losing my mind. i don’t know what i’m supposed to feel.” yunjin looks at wonyoung, the two sharing a look of disbelief. “okay. you asked him to kiss you, so obviously part of you knows what you’re feeling.” “i don’t-“ you groan, dropping your head in your hands. “i’ve never done this before, yunjin! it’s all new to me. it’s terrifying.” wonyoung smirks, clearly enjoying your misery. “you’re down bad, girl. just admit it.” you sigh, falling back onto the couch. “i know i’m down bad, wonyoung. i blush just thinking about the guy.” yunjin sucks in a breath, sitting down next to you. “brutal. so, like, what happened after? you made out, then what?” you pause, mind still spinning as you recount the memories of everything. you turn away from her, your voice quiet as you speak. “he like… pulled me into his lap. and he was kissing my neck…”

there’s a long silence. no one saying anything. you look back to see yunjin and wonyoung both staring at you with wide eyes. “what the fuck?” wonyoung yells, standing up. you press a finger over your mouth, begging her to shut up. she shakes her head, continuing to ramble. “y/n! oh my god, this is insane!” you place your hands over your face, heat crawling up your cheeks. “i know! i don’t know what i’m doing, guys! then we kinda hugged? and just sat there for like ten minutes. we only stopped because my legs were falling asleep and i made up some excuse to go inside.” yunjin only sighs, leaning her head back against the couch. “you’re so oblivious. he wants you.” you raise an eyebrow at her, slowly uncovering your face. “you don’t know that. why would he want me when he has a ton of other girls that know so much more than i do? i feel like a burden, like he has to teach me everything. i chickened out from a few seconds of him kissing my fucking neck!” wonyoung laughs, shaking her head. “i don’t know, y/n. why do guys do half of the stuff that they do?” she stretches, raising her arms above her head as she continues. “plus, not every guys mind is filed with sex. maybe he’s okay with taking it slow with you. i still can’t believe you bagged heeseung of all people, though. he’s known for his hook-ups.” “that’s exactly what i mean,” you mumble, your voice growing more defeated by the second. “maybe this isn’t a good idea. i feel like an idiot.” yunjin sits up, smacking your stomach before rising to her feet. “stop doubting yourself. you’re hot, okay? you’re looking into it too much, i promise.” you only glance at her, a pout on your lips. she sighs, grabbing your arms and pulling you to sit up. “i’m not saying to rush into anything, alright? don’t forget his reputation. but if he was willing to just hold you for ten minutes like that? there’s obviously something more there.” you give her a half-smile, considering her words. they hit deep, considering that his reputation had been the one thing lingering in the back of your mind when you got butterflies thinking about something that he did. what if you were just a game? just something to entertain him until the next girl came along?

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

the last few days had been brutal. you had forgetting what having a crush- an actual crush- felt like. on top of the… physical aspect of it, you were losing your mind. searching for heeseung around campus, daydreaming in class, your body heating up at the memory of his hands on you. you felt like a teenage boy with raging hormones. it didn’t help that you barely ever had the form to yourself, so being able to act on your desires was rare. now, it’s 10pm. you’re sitting in your room, finishing up some last minute assignments. yunjin is in her bed, scrolling on her phone, tiktoks playing quietly in the background. you submit your last assignment, your phone buzzing next to you. you glance at it, expecting a random notification, but it’s a text from heeseung. your heart speeds up just slightly. heeseung [10:20 pm]: u busy?you squint at the message. your stomach twists slightly, the two simple words sending a rush of adrenaline through you. you pick it up, anyway, typing out a quick response. you tell yourself to act normal. he can’t tell if you’re flustered over text. you [10:21 pm] why?it’s read immediately. and almost just as quickly, three dots appear. heeseung [10:21 pm]: wanna watch a movieoh, for fuck’s sake. this could only mean one thing. you felt your pulse speed up slightly, your fingers hovering over the keyboard before you send your response. you [10:22 pm]: watch it yourselfheeseung [10:22 pm]: don’t want toyou sigh, reading his message over and over. you couldn’t fall for a trap this easily, but yet, you wanted to. you [10:22 pm]: ask jake or somethingheeseung [10:23 pm]: he doesn’t look as good as uyour breath catches. oh. your whole body felt like it was heating up, betraying you quicker than your mind was. you should ignore him. put down the phone, pretend this conversation didn’t happen. save your sanity. heeseung [10:24 pm]: u gonna respond?fuck it. you [10:24 pm]: i hate u. be there in 10.you push yourself off the bed, yunjin sending you a look when you grab your jacket, pulling it over your arms. “are you going somewhere?” she asks, tilting her head. you jump slightly at her voice. you had forgotten she was here. fuck. “uh, yeah.” she raises an eyebrow, a tiktok playing on loop as she watches you. “at 10:30 pm?” fuck. think of an excuse. anything. “yeah, i need to-“ you glance around, your eyes landing on your backpack. “i need to print something!” she just stares at you, her expression full of amusement. “print something.” you want the floor to swallow you. “yeah.” "...at 10:30?”

"yep!” you reply, trying your hardest to seem believable. she blinks. “what do you need a printer for?” “class!” you reply quickly. too quickly. “what else would i need it for? that’s why, i’m going to the library.” her eyes narrow, her eyebrows furrowing. “the library closes at nine.” fuck. you’re horrible at this. “wonyoung has a printer! in her dorm! so i’m going. to print. my paper. because class is important.” no response. silence envelops the two of you. finally, she tilts her head. “you don’t have class tomorrow.” you’re going to slam your head into the wall. “fine!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up. “i’m going to walmart for snacks! is that better?”yunjin holds back a laugh, her eyes flickering with amusement. “snack run. got it.” “yeah, i had to lie or else… or else you would ask me to buy you something. and i don’t have a lot of money.” you reply. she only smirks. she knows you’re full of shit. you know she knows. “okay,” she shrugs, looking back at her phone. you let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding, walking towards the door. just as your hand touches the doorknob, she speaks again. “use protection.” you freeze, your stomach dropping. you turn to look at her, slowly. “what?” she keeps her eyes trained on her phone, but there’s a shit-eating grin on her face. “you heard me.” you gasp incredulously, glancing around the room. “i told you i’m going to walmart.” she snorts, finally glancing up at you, “yeah, and i’m going to paris next weekend.” you glare at her, flipping her off. “it was the best i could come up with! you put me on the spot!” “it was horrible,” she sighs, shaking her head in disappointment before continuing, “i don’t care what you’re do, but at least lie better. and i’m a bit offended you didn’t just tell me the truth.” you shake your head, embarrassment rushing through you. “nothing’s happening!” “no.” she replies, a smirk on her lips as she turns off her phone, placing it next to her. “you’re getting dicked down by lee heeseung. that’s what’s happening.” your jaw drops, and you yank the door open, your face burning red. “i am not! shut up!” “goodnight, y/n,” she muses, a teasing smile on her lips. you slam the door shut behind you, stomping down the hall. fuck. that was humiliating. you’re never living that down. she’s probably texting wonyoung at this exact moment, telling her everything that just happened. you groan out loud, your head falling back as you wait outside the elevator, sending heeseung a text. you [10:27 pm]: i’m going to kill u.you don’t wait for his response, stepping into the elevator as it opens. your stomach is twisting in anticipation, for… whatever is going to happen tonight. your body is betraying you. your mind is betraying you. thoughts flickering through your mind, making you feel dizzy as you walk to his dorm. it’s a short enough walk, simply enjoying the scenery of campus as you make your way to his dorm. it’s quiet at this hour, and it almost feels like you’re the only one here, besides the student you pass every few minutes. every step feels heavier, like you’re getting closer to what you know is a like you haven’t crossed before. as if you haven’t crossed more in the last week than you ever thought you would.

when you finally make it to his dorm, following the directions he gave you, your heart pounds in your chest as you stand outside his door. you hesitate, before raising your hand and knocking once. twice. you hear footplates approaching the door, before it swings open and- oh. your mouth almost waters at the sight. heeseung is standing there, a white wifebeater clinging to his skin, grey sweatpants low on his hips. his hair is messy and disheveled, making him look even more irresistible. his arms are crossed against his chest, muscles flexing every time he moves slightly. your brain stops working, your eyes raking over his figure before you realize what you’re doing. they snap back up to his face, but it’s too late. he already has the smug look on his face, and you’re praying he doesn’t say anything. luckily, by the grace of god, he doesn’t. he leans against the doorframe, raising his eyebrows slightly. “took you long enough.” you sigh, your lips pursing as you glare at him. “shut up. i’m here, aren’t i?” “yeah.” he says, voice dropping with teasing tone as he tilts his head. “i was starting to miss you, pretty girl.” your eyes widen a bit at the new nickname, and you swear your heart skips a few beats. you want to slam your head into the nearest wall repeatedly. you want him to- no. you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to get a grip. “move,” you finally say, pushing past him and entering his dorm. it looks like a typical college athlete dorm room. he was lucky enough to get a whole dorm to himself, basketball posters littering the walls, a pc set up where the other bed usually goes, and a small couch and tv off to the other side of the room. it was cozy, and not too cluttered. he lets you push him, and you try not to focus on how his muscles feel so much more defined through his tank top than they did through his hoodie. “damn, princess. you’re killing me.” you roll your eyes, walking over to his couch and plopping down on it. you watch as he shuts the door, stepping closer to you. his smirk stays on his lips, his eyes full of something you can’t read, but it sends a shiver down your spine. “so,” you begin, trying to keep your emotions in check. “what movie are we watching?” he doesn’t say anything, simply sitting next to you on the couch and turning the tv on. the movie of choice is waiting to be played, and your eyes squint slightly. “10 things i hate about you?” your voice comes out more surprised than you meant, and heeseung looks at you, tilting his head. you hadn’t expected this choice. you were expecting him to pick a marvel movie, or mad max, something that guys watch, you didn’t know. his smile is smug, glancing at the tv and back at you. “yeah,” he shrugs, not seeing the big deal. “do you not like it?” you blink, thrown off. a rom-com? it’s not something you had expected heeseung- or any college boy in general- to enjoy. you feel like you’re uncovering a new side of him, one that you haven’t seen before. you shake your head quickly, “no, it’s one of my favorites. just didn’t think you would watch something like this.” he raises an eyebrow in response, leaning back against the couch as he presses play. “i’m a man of depth, y/n.” his voice is teasing, his eyes flickering from yours to the tv. your stomach flips, but you don’t say anything else. you settle back into the couch, unsure of how much distance to put between the two of you. about halfway through the movie, patrick and kat finally kiss. lying down after the paintball game, against the hay. it’s like you can feel the tension snapping between them, your eyes staring longingly at the screen.

you can’t look away. it’s something you’ve always wanted. the kind of love you’ve always wanted to experience (well, besides the fact it all started as a bet). your mind flickers to you and heeseung and whatever… this is. without thinking, the words spill out, wistful, longing. “i’ve always wanted a love like theirs. this movie is perfect.” silence. the reality of who you just spoke those words in front of settles in. you blink, wanting the ground to swallow you. you glance over at heeseung, praying to every god that he somehow didn’t hear you. he definitely did. his eyes flicker towards yours, the corner of his mouth lifting into that signature smirk. he doesn’t say anything at first, just watching you, the way you shift in your seat, obviously regretting your choice of words. “yeah?” he finally asks, his voice low and teasing. it sends a chill through your body, and he leans just a bit closer. “i guess they are pretty nice together, aren’t they? reminds me of us.” his words make your eyes widen just slightly, your pulse speeding up at his comment. you swallow, hard. your mouth opens, but no words leave your lips. his gaze stays on yours, intense, waiting. but you can’t speak. the room feels like it’s shrinking, the air suddenly too think to breathe. he tilts his head, the stupid smirk still on his lips. “cat got your tongue?” his voice is still low, but there’s something else to it now. you bite your lip, nerves crackling between the both of you. the movie continues to play, but it’s just background noise now, only sound filling the heated silence between you. he shifts, his body facing yours completely now, making him feel so much closer. the smirk on his face drops slightly, an unreadable expression taking over his features. your breath stutters, and you force words to leave your lips. “well… i mean-“ he leans in closer, so close you can feel his warm breath against your skin. your heartbeat quickens, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the moment. you try to ignore your nerves, your erratic heartbeat, your shaky breath, the way your lips part slightly. but it’s impossible. he raises a hand to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. “tell me,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with something you can’t quite place. he drags your bottom lip down with his thumb, before letting it fall back into place. “you ever think about that with someone like me?” you swear your heartbeat stops. because you have. god, of course you have. but the words are stuck in your throat, the moment too tense for you to force any words out. you can’t even think straight. you feel surrounded by him. the look in his eyes, the proximity, his touch. you inhale sharply, your eyes closing for just a second as you try to ground yourself. it’s useless. you’re too far gone, the moment is too tense. his gaze flickers to your lips, a soft breath leaving his lips, and something inside you snaps.

your lips crash against his, your hands threading into his hair to pull him closer. he reciprocates immediately, groaning against your lips, like he had been waiting all night for this. his hand on your jaw tilts your head, deepening the kiss. it’s frantic, messy, and desperate. charged with emotion and the tension that had been building all night. all the unsaid words pouring themselves into the way your lips move against each other. his free hand finds your waist, pulling you closer. slowly, he shifts his hand to your back, fingers splaying out as he secures you, slowly guiding you down until you’re lying back on the couch, your bodies pressed together, his legs between yours. his weight settles over you, caging you in, but it feels like more than that. something you can’t quite place. your fingers leave his hair, trailing down to his chest, your breath stuttering as you feel the way his muscles move beneath his tank top, desire shooting through you. his tongue prods at your bottom lip, asking for more, your mouth opening instinctively to let him in. your breath catches as his tongue brushes against yours. it’s a foreign feeling, and you don’t know what to do. your inexperience is painfully obvious, insecurity filling you. but heeseung doesn’t rush you. his hand on your jaw tilts your head slightly, coaxing you to follow his movements. his kisses are slower now, letting you adjust. it’s messy and uncertain, but he exhales against your lips, hot and heavy, and you realize that he doesn’t care. your inexperience doesn’t matter to him. he wants this. you want this. you let yourself relax, your lips moving more confidently against his. something inside you clicks, your resolve shattering as your mind is clouded with the desire. the want for more. more of his lips, his touch, everything. your body feels like it’s on fire, need spreading throughout you. you pull back, gasping for air, both of your chests rising and falling as you catch your breath. your mind is hazy from the intensity of the kiss, of the feelings swirling through you. heeseung’s gaze softens slightly, like he’s about to say something, but before he can speak, you interrupt him. your voice is shaky, but firm. “i want more.” he stares at you for a second, processing your words. then, his eyes darken, and it’s like you can feel the shift in the room. a deep, guttural groan leaves his lips, and before you can process it, his lips are back on yours. his kisses are deeper, more urgent, desperate, like you just shattered his last ounce of restraint he had. you feel dizzy, his kisses intoxicating. his touch grows more fervent, one tangling in your hair to tilt your head. you sigh against his lips, everything feeling like too much and not enough at the same time as your hands grip his biceps, grounding yourself to something. his tongue slides against yours in a way that makes your head spin, the intensity of his kisses sending your mind reeling.

and then he shifts. just slightly, but his hips press against yours. it’s subtle, unintentional, but it sends a shock through your body, a familiar spark burning in your core. you gasp against his lips, your fingers tightening around his biceps as the pleasure spreads. he notices. fuck, of course he notices. hears the small, shaky sound that leaves you. he pulls back just slightly, his breath warm against your lips. his voice is low, dripping with amusement. “that feel good, princess?” you tighten around nothing, your thighs attempting to close, squeeze together, ease some of the tension you’re feeling. but you can’t, not with heeseung in between your legs. his lips curve into a smirk, picking up on every detail about your body. he presses his lips against yours again. rolling his hips again, this time deliberately. your breath stutters. the feeling is overwhelming, too much with all the emotions you’re already feeling, but you want it. your fingers dig into his biceps, using your grip as an anchor for your sanity, but he doesn’t stop. his lips trail along your jaw, down your neck, his voice tickling your skin. “you like that, don’t you?” you can’t answer, can barely breathe. you try to speak, but he rolls his hips just right, pressing right against your clit, and a whimper slips past your lips. he hears it. loves it. but when you don’t answer, he slows his hips, the loss of friction making your fingers tighten. you go to protest, but he speaks before you. “c’mon princess”, he murmurs, hand sliding down to grip your waist. “i asked you a question.” he shifts slightly- just enough for you to feel it. but it’s not enough. your core clenches at the fleeting pressure. “don’t get all shy on me now,” he hums, angling your hips just right before rolling his agan. slower, more controlled. your nails dig into his arms, head tipping back slightly. it’s not enough. and he knows. he’s waiting. waiting for you to break. and finally, you do. you gasp, voice breathless and desperate as it leaves your lips. “yes.” he huffs out a laugh against your ear, a shiver running down your spine. “that’s my girl.” his lips crash against yours, grinding against you harder, pulling gasps and whimpers from you. “fuck,” he exhales, forehead resting against yours. his breath is ragged, fingers tightening on your waist, like he’s trying to hold back. but you need more. your hips push up, chasing the dizzying pleasure. his grip tightens, his hips rocking harder, faster. “shit- princess…” he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck. then you feel it. the solid press of him through his sweats. fuck, he’s huge. your stomach clenches, an involuntary moan leaving you. he’s hard, because of you. he’s enjoying this. you shift again, your underwear sticking uncomfortably to yourself, voice shaky and broken. “heeseung-“ his hand slides beneath your shirt, fingers splaying across your waist. his lips hover against yours, voice quiet, strained. “i’ve got you.”

it's too much. every roll of his hips, every kiss, every touch. your head rolls back, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure rushes through you. you can feel the knot in your stomach tightening, so close to tipping over the edge. heeseung watches, his breath hitching. his eyes are dark, lidded, filled with lust. his hands tighten on your waist, hips pressing harder. “you close, princess?” you nod, your hips trying to push up against him, but he holds you down, forcing you to take it. a groan leaves his lips, his voice strained as he grits his teeth. “fuck… you’re gonna make me blow a load in my pants.” his words make you shiver, barely processing words at this point. and then his hips move just right- and you break. your entire body tenses, your back arching off the couch as a broken cry leaves you, white-hot pleasure crashing over you. heeseung’s brows are furrowed, his jaw slack, watching as you tremble beneath him. and that’s all it takes for him. his fingers grip your waist tighter, his hips stuttering against yours as a choked gasp spills past his lips. “ah, fuck-“ he groans out, finally finishing in his pants. his body shakes against yours, the feeling only heightening your pleasure. it’s silent for a bit, the only sounds being the movie playing quietly in the background and your heaving breaths. you can still feel the aftershocks, your mind foggy, having felt as if it's flown somewhere far away. and then, a quiet, breathless laugh leaves heeseung’s lips. “damn, princess.” your lips part, but nothing but a soft exhale leaves your lips. your heartbeat is pounding in your ears, everything feeling too heavy. heeseung’s expression shifts, his amusement turning into something softer, his fingers brushing against your cheek. his touch sends a shiver down your spine, still hypersensitive. “you good?” your eyes finally flutter open, blinking softly. you manage a small nod, slowly coming back to reality. a small laugh leaves his lips, but his tone remains soft. “you sure? you look like you’re on another planet.” you nod again, and then reality sinks in. you just came in your pants because of lee heeseung. you basically had indirect sex with lee heeseung. your eyes widen slightly, a hand covering your eyes as you groan quietly. “i can’t believe we just did that.” he leans down just slightly, his lips brushing against yours ever so softly. “believe it, baby.” you let out an exasperated laugh, rolling your eyes as you shove at his chest. “literally shut up.” he only laughs, pushing himself so he’s hovering above you. he just watches you for a moment, silence enveloping you as you both process everything. and then. “not gonna lie, i’ve never came in my pants before.” your eyes widen, just looking at him. “oh.” you blink, averting your gaze. but then, something clicks. you did that. you were a first for him, too. it causes something proud to bloom in your chest, holding back a smile. “why do you-“ heeseung squints at you, an amused scoff leaving his lips. “are you proud of yourself right now?” you avert your gaze, poorly biting back a smile. “no.” “oh my god,” he groans, his head dropping to rest against your chest. “you so are.” you giggle, trying to ignore how his touch affects you. “i mean, i think that’s kinda an accomplishment. don’t you?” he lifts his head, an amused expression on his face. he laughs softly, shaking his head. “you’re unreal.” “i guess you’re rubbing off on me,” you shrug, pushing some hair out of his face. due to his positioning, though, it falls back right away.

“and, uh…” you hand runs down his face, fingers grazing down his chest as your eyes remain on his. “i’ve never done that with anyone before.” he lets out a quiet curse, and you can feel his muscles tensing under your fingers. he finally snaps out of it, glancing down at where you’re still connected. “this is just uncomfortable now.” you shift your hips, trying to ease some of the uncomfortable stickiness. it backfires, heeseung’s hand gripping your hip as he sucks a breath in through his teeth. “don’t move.” it sends a jolt of electricity through you, your lips parting slightly. fuck, this was such new territory for you. before you can speak, heseung is pushing himself off of you, standing up with a groan. “i’m gonna go get us some pants.” you push yourself up on your elbows, your stomach doing a little flip. the word leaves your lips before you can think about it. “us?” he tilts his head, a soft smile on his lips. “yes, us. i’m not letting you sleep over in ruined pants.” sleep over. you’re sleeping over. you’re spending the night at a guys dorm- heeseung’s dorm. “don’t look so surprised, princess. i’m not letting you walk home this late,” he speaks again, watching your surprised expression. and when he reaches out his hand, pulling you up to your feet, you let him. you let him get you a change of pants. you let him pull you closer in bed. you let yourself fall asleep in lee heeseung’s arms, even though your heart is beating out of your chest the whole time.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

it’s been two weeks. two weeks of this… thing with heeseung. and you’re happy. you’ve never felt this way about anyone before. you’re not dating. neither of you would call it that. no one has. not yunjin, not wonyoung, not his friends- but they all have that look in their eyes when they see you together. they know. because you’re together. kind of. you go to his games occasionally, dragging either yunjin or wonyoung along. because he asked you to come. he wanted you to be there.he’s on time for study sessions, even picking you up from your dorm sometimes. half the time is spent actually getting work done, and the other half is spent talking about everything and nothing at the same time. you go out together now. you take heeseung with you to your favorite café after class. you remember the first time you walked in with him after everything. a few of the workers just stared at you. you always came in alone, but here you were with lee heeseung, standing so close to each other, whispering like your words were only meant for you two. he takes you to a lookout about a twenty-minute drive from campus. it’s always quiet, peaceful. nothing’s said, but everything is understood. he always takes you late at night, the lights far away creating one of the most beautiful nights. the city feels so close, but so far away. just like everything feels with him. and then there’s the other moments. the ones that make you question whatever this is. when he brings your favorite drink to class- because he knows it now. when he watches the shows you recommended, listens to the music you play. when he always makes sure you get home safe, walking you all the way to your door before sending you off. when you catch him looking at you, his eyes softer, something that you can’t quite place. when he can always tell when you’re cold, not even saying anything before he drapes his sweater over your shoulders, going back to whatever he was doing like it was no big deal.it's not obvious you’re together, but it’s obvious that there’s something there. and that’s enough. you’re happy. you’re happy. right? the walk to your dorm is quiet. it’s not awkward- it’s never awkward. it’s just quiet. filled with words that neither of you want to say, caught in your swirling minds. the night is cold, but you can’t feel it. not with heeseung’s hoodie enveloping you, sheltering you from the nipping night air. his shoulder continues to brush against yours, the proximity making you feel safe. but something feels different tonight. the whole day, something felt off. like all the unspoken words were going to come to fruition. he had acted different tonight. softer. closer.

tonight, he had pulled the hood of your (his) hoodie up when the wind picked up, his fingers lingering for just a second too long. his fingers brushed against yours while you walked together, and for a second, you thought he was going to intertwine your fingers. tonight, he had just watched you when you were speaking. really watched you. like he was memorizing every detail of your face. and now, you’re here at your dorm. and you don’t want to go inside. you don’t want the night to end. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, looking up at heeseung as he stands in front of you. “thanks for walking me back,” you mumble, shoving your hands in the pocket of his hoodie. heeseung nods, his lips parting. your eyes light up the slightest bit. it looks like he’s going to do something, say something. finally, finally cross that line. maybe a kiss. not a kiss filled with tension, or a makeout session. a kiss just because. a soft, fleeting goodnight kiss. but then, he just exhales through his nose, his lips curling into a soft smile. his hands lift, your heart speeding up. it’s happening. and then, he tugs your hood down. his touch is so soft, it’s comforting. he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, your breath hitching at the action. his eyes flicker over your face, filled with unsaid words, and you can almost see the way he’s fighting his thoughts.his voice is so quiet when he speaks, filled with something you can’t place. “goodnight, princess.” you swallow, something akin to disappointment filling you. but you brush it off, simply nodding as you take a step back. “goodnight, heeseung.”his lips part again, but he closes them quickly, simply returning the nod. you try not to let your emotions show, just turning around and entering your dorm, the ghost of whatever moment should’ve just happened disappearing into the air. the door clicks shut behind you, and now it’s just you. alone. it’s quiet. too quiet. you’re half-expecting yunjin’s voice to fill the room, teasing you, asking you to spill all the details- but it doesn’t. she’s spending the night at beomgyu’s. it’s become routine for her. part of you wishes that was routine for you and heeseung as well. you sigh, running a hand through your hair before finally making your way to your bed, sliding under the covers. heeseung’s hoodie smells like him. that somehow makes everything worse. everything should be fine. this shouldn’t be a big deal. but you can’t stop thinking about it. the way he looked at you tonight- hell, the way he’s been looking at you every day lately. how close he got tonight, how his touch lingered. and the look in his eyes. like there was so much he wanted to say. but he didn’t. he never does. you stare at the ceiling, unsure of whether your feelings are valid or not. this isn’t how you expected your first romance to go. not that this is even a romance. or a relationship. or a situationship. whatever it is. you always thought love would be easier to understand, to navigate. that you would see someone, and everything would just click. you wouldn’t have to wonder, you wouldn’t be anxious. love at first sight, they call it. maybe you read too many books, watched too many movies. maybe you just had an unrealistic expectation of love. you push the doubt away, along with the lingering thoughts of confusion. they’re not fair. not to heeseung, and definitely not to you. you’re happy. or, you’re supposed to be happy. so why does it feel like you’re waiting for something that’s never going to come? something just out of reach, like a mirage? no matter how close you get, it continues to get further away.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

the sun is out, trees rustling slightly with the breeze. you and wonyoung walk side by side, her rambling about how some guy in her economics class- anton- keeps trying to flirt with her. it’s funny. sometimes you wonder if wonyoung truly understands how beautiful she is. you can’t blame the guy. “girl, i don’t know why you’re surprised,” you roll your eyes, a small laugh leaving your lips, “you’re stunning.” she smiles, her mouth opening as she goes to respond, but the words die on her lips as both your ears pick up on the conversation happening next to you. “heeseung? oh yeah, he said they were just messing around.” something said in passing by a guy talking to his friend. something not meant for your ears, but you heard it. and it hurt. made your stomach twist, a disgusting feeling settling in your gut. there was a party yesterday. heeseung went. he told you he was going. your mind swirled with endless possibilities. did something happen there? was something said? why are other people talking about you? you don’t react- at least, not outwardly. but the words feel like a punch to your gut. a bucket of ice water being poured over your head. wonyoung hears it, too. you know she did. you watch as she turns to you, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. “heeseung?” she asks, tilting her head slightly. “did something happen?” it only makes the ugly feeling inside you worse. you shake your head, trying to keep your voice as normal as possible. “no. but rumors are just rumors. besides, he’s really popular. people are bound to talk.” you try to convince yourself you mean what you’re saying out loud. like everything’s fine. like it doesn’t hurt. she hesitates a bit, studying your face. she opens her mouth, but ultimately nods along to your words slowly, letting it go. she continues to talk, the conversation between you two easily flowing again. you reply, trying to seem invested. trying to stop the uneasiness forming inside you more and more by the second. but it’s hard. you know heeseung. you know his reputation.

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the café was busy this time of day. conversation and the sound of drinks being made filled the small building, the smell of coffee heavy in the air. you’re sat at your favorite seat in the corner, heeseung sitting across from you. the conversation was flowing easily, the two of you talking about anything that came to your minds. you didn’t mention what you heard earlier, even though the doubts burned in the back of your mind. as much as you tried to push the thoughts away, they stayed. taunting you. the bell jingles, alerting that a new customer is walking in. you turn your head, your stomach dropping the second your eyes land on her. sieun. she makes direct eye contact with you, a slow smirk forming on her face as she walks over. your guard goes up immediately, heeseung having yet to notice her. you knew about their history. everyone did. an on-and-off fling that lasted for months. they ended things for good just a couple months ago, right before you met heeseung. “well,” she says, her voice dripping with false sweetness, a fake smile on her lips as she places her hands on the table. “you move on quick, don’t you? i’ve heard a lot about you two.” your body feels like it goes cold. you glance at heeseung, waiting for him to do something. say anything. but he doesn’t. his smile falters, his eyes flickering towards her. you watch as he rubs the back of his neck, simply shaking his head before turning back to his cup. it sends a chill through you, that same ugly feeling forming in the pit of your stomach. sieun doesn’t even acknowledge you. her eyes stay trained on heeseung, her smile darkening, lips curling into something sadistic. “don’t have anything to say? i heard you were just messing around with this one,” she continues. she can’t even use your name. ‘this one’ stings like a burning rod being pressed to your skin. but her words stick out the most. messing around. the same words you hear earlier. the same words that had been swirling in your head this whole day, making anxiety pound through you. it felt like every fear you had was being confirmed. every rumor, coming to fruition. you watch heeseung, your eyes pleading with him to say something. to say she’s wrong, that there is something between you two. that she heard wrong, and things are different this time. anything to make this right. but instead, he just shakes his head again a small, breathless laugh leaves his lips like he can’t believe this is happening. it makes your stomach twist, frustration bubbling up inside you. the man who always had something to say was now sitting wordlessly in front of you, avoiding eye contact with the both of you.

sieun finally turns to look at you, her smile turning sympathetic, taunting. “you’re cute,” she muses, fake sadness dripping from her voice. “i hope you’re not expecting anything serious.” it hurts. it feels like a stab wound to the heart, pain rushing through your whole body. your mouth opens and closes, but no words leave you. your gaze flickers back too heeseung, waiting for something, anything. that something never comes. sieun simply laughs under her breath and shakes her head, leaving as quickly as she came. leaving you two surrounded by a crushing silence. your hands curl into fists underneath the table, frustration turning to anger and hurt as you stare at the tabletop. heeseung still hasn’t said anything. he sits there, silent, and you can feel his gaze on you. it hurts too much. your heart feels like it’s shattering more by the second, and you can’t take it anymore. you’re pushing yourself up from your seat before you can think twice about it, grabbing your bag, and walking. you don’t look back. you don’t listen to his voice, or the stares from others as you make a beeline for the door. it swings open, the cold outside air whipping around you immediately, only adding to the storm of emotions in your head. you can’t think straight, every thought in your mind jumbled. you don’t hear him behind you, not until you feel the faintest pull on your wrist do you stop, your breath catching in your throat. you hear his breath, ragged, quick. and finally, after everything, he speaks. “y/n,” he says softly, cautiously, almost hesitant. his grip tightens just slightly, tugging just slightly more. “you could’ve said something,” you mumble, the words barely escaping your lips. “anything. and you didn’t.” there’s a pause. silence. deafening silence. and suddenly, it’s like the rose-tinted glasses were ripped off, leaving you standing with the reality of your actions. tears brim your eyes as everything hits you all at once. you fell for the playboy. you were stupid enough to just be another one of his girls. your throat tightens, and the words spill out before you can stop them. “i gave you so much,” you choke out, your voice trembling as you turn around to face him. “i- i actually trusted you. i had hope.” his expression falters just slightly, his grip loosening, just barely, but you notice it. his mouth opens, but you cut him off before he can speak, all the frustrated feelings you’ve bottled up leaving you. “you knew how new this was for me,” you continue, your voice rising. you ignore the stares of other students, or the tears that begin to spill from your eyes. “how new all of this is. why would you- why would you take that from me? i don’t know what i’m doing half the time we’re together, but i still try. and you- you just… you don’t try! you give me nothing in return!”

a bitter laugh leaves your lips, full of disbelief. your free hand comes up to rest on your forehead, trying to ground yourself somehow. but it’s no use. your tears keep falling, anger and heartbreak mixing to form the worst rush of emotions you’ve ever had. “you don’t even kiss me goodnight, heeseung,” you mumble, your voice breaking as more tears spill from your eyes, blurring your vision. “you can’t even do that. the only time we kiss is when you want to fucking make out.” his eyes widen slightly, and you can see the way guilt floods his features. but you can’t stop. it’s like you’re running on autopilot at this point. you laugh again, the sound borderline hysterical. your body is shaking with a mix of your cries and the emotion running through you, the adrenaline, the heartbreak. “you can’t even call me by my actual name,” you whisper, the words tasting bitter as they leave your mouth. part of you can’t believe you’re saying these things out loud. “just ‘princess’. always just princess.” the laugh in your throat dies, simply replaced by silence aside from your sniffles. his face- the guilt on his face- burns into you the more you look at him, your heart shattering at the sight. but whatever this is hurts more. you can’t take it anymore. can’t keep sacrificing your happiness, and having doubts about if lingering touches are true or not. “you don’t know how much that hurts,” you whisper, the anger you felt finally fading into nothing but heartbreak and hurt. “to give you everything, and only feel like a game. you know, i used to dream about my first kiss. every first i could ever have. and you- you took so many of them from me.” you finally stop speaking, letting the words sink in for the both of you. it’s quiet, tears slipping down your cheeks, but your face is blank. and heeseung stands there, motionless. confusion and guilt filling his expression, but you can’t wait around for a baseless apology. so you don’t. you pull your wrist from his grip, and he doesn’t hold you back. he doesn’t say anything. he just watches. and that somehow hurts more than hearing him say anything. you shut your eyes, biting your bottom lip to contain a sob as you turn on your heel, walking away. through your blurry vision, you don’t look back, keeping your vision forward as you walk away so fast it’s borderline running, your heart shattering more with every shaky step.

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your footsteps were heavy, dragging. the walk back to your dorm had been torturous, dried tears on your face, little sniffles escaping you as you ignored the stares of other students. you could acknowledge that you probably looked like shit. the door clicked quietly as you shut it behind you, locking you in silence. the familiar space that always provided comfort, seemed to do absolutely nothing for you now. your bag slid off your shoulder, falling to the floor with a quiet thud, but you didn’t even hear it. you felt numb, everything far away. but here, in the silence, it felt like everything replayed. every word, every emotion, him. your chest tightened, tears brimming in your eyes once again. they started to fall, soft at first, but they soon became uncontrollable. you tried to hold them back, to calm yourself down, but it was no use. your back hit the door, your legs giving out as you slid down, hitting the floor. you tried desperately to catch your breath, your sobs wracking through you as your hands gripped at your chest, trying to grasp at any sense of control over the situation. nothing was working. everything hurt. you were left feeling stupid and gullible. just another one of lee heeseung’s girls. and then, you saw it. on your desk chair, his hoodie was draped over the back. the sight sending a new wave of emotions through you. it was like you could feel it from where you sat on the floor, smell the familiar scent of him the hoodie carried. and it was all too much. a sob broke from your chest, loud, audible, everything crashing down at once. your chest burned. your head hurt. everything felt wrong. you were trying to pull yourself together, but it only got worse. the reality of everything kept tumbling down on you, forcing you to replay the memories of the day over and over. finally, you heard a door open, your eyes flickering over to the bathroom door only to see wonyoung and yunjin rushing to your side. their expressions filled with concern and confusion. it only made everything hurt more. your sobs were bordering being painful, your body shaking with each and every heaving breath you sucked in. wonyoung was next to you first, wrapping her arms around you as you continued to cry. you couldn't do anything, your hands shaking in your lap as the tears flowed freely. “what’d he do?” she asked bluntly, remembering the conversation from earlier. her hands rubbed your head, trying to calm you down as best she could. “what happened?” your lip trembled as you tried to get words out, but all that left was a strangled sob, your eyes clenching shut. your hands came up to your face, as if you were attempting to block out the pain. but nothing worked. you felt the ache deep inside you, burning, stinging. “what do you mean ‘what’d he do’?” you heard yunjin ask, her hand rubbing your knee comfortingly. you couldn’t reply, couldn’t even get a single word out. but you heard wonyoung filling her in on the conversation you overheard earlier, only adding to the pain you felt. you tried to speak, tried to fill them in on what had just happened, but it felt like the words were stuck in your throat, like bile threatening to come up. all that left you was gasps for air. and then, you sucked in a breath, and it all spilled out.

“she…  sieun came up to us. said.. he moved on quickly. that i was a game.” you choked out between sobs, shutting your eyes to ground yourself. “he didn’t- he didn’t say anything. nothing. he was just silent.” “so… fuck. i left.” your chest heaved, squeezing your eyes shut as you spoke the words that felt too real. “he tried to stop me- but i told him everything. everything i’ve been feeling… ands he still didn’t say a single fucking word.” it felt like saying them out loud meant that it actually happened. that it was real. that you didn’t imagine it, it wasn’t a bad dream. wonyoung’s arms tightened around you, pulling your head against her chest as you continued to sob, everything feeling too real. you had never felt this before. this all consuming pain that enveloped your whole body. a pain you couldn’t pinpoint, not a physical pain, but an emotional pain. resting somewhere deep inside you. yunjin’s eyes softened, her hands continuing to rub soft circles on your knee as you shook. “you deserve so much better than that asshole, y/n.” you swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. “i don’t know what i was expecting, but i-“ you choked on your words, closing your eyes before continuing. “i thought it was real.” wonyoung rubbed your arm with the hand she had wrapped around you, the touch grounding you, comforting you. “don’t say that,” she whispered, her lips brushing against the top of your head, “this isn’t your fault.” you shook your head, finally lifting it as you wiped your tears, a bitter, disbelieving laugh slipping past your lips. “but it is,” you mumble, your voice shaky, “i let him in. i knew what i was getting into. lee heeseung, campus playboy. and i’m so, so fucking stupid for falling.” the two girls stared at you, pity etched across their faces as they watched you break down on the floor, the happiness you had been feeling being ripped away from you all too soon, leaving you empty and heartbroken.

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the world kept moving. the days stretched on, long and unbearable. it felt like each one bled into the other. it was strange. how time could feel so, so agonizingly slow. it had only been a few days, but it felt like weeks. but a part of you felt like you were still there. standing, waiting, begging for anything, and getting nothing but silence in return. you went to class because you had to. because you couldn’t let your grades slip. you sat in your usual seat with your notebook open, but the words blurred together. you busied yourself by doodling on your paper, words entering one ear and leaving the other. you couldn’t focus on anything, when your mind would drift back to him. every time someone leaned back in their chair, or tapped their pen on their notebook, you felt like you could see him. it made something in your stomach twist violently. you couldn’t tell if it was nausea or longing. but you knew it hurt. “y/n?” you blinked, snapping back to reality at the sound of your name. you looked up, only to be met with the eyes of your professor, staring at you expectantly. fuck. you swallow, gripping your pen just a bit tighter. “uh…” your eyes scanned the board for something, anything, but nothing made sense. you had no idea what was being discussed, or what question had been asked. you felt embarrassment flood you, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as you sighed. “i’m sorry, i wasn’t paying attention. it’s been a long day.”your professor shook her head, eyes full of disappointment. “you need to pay attention, you’re usually better than this.” it hurt. her look of disappointment, her words. if only she knew how you felt right now, the thoughts running through your head. but you only nodded, sinking in your seat as she moved on, another student raising their hand enthusiastically to answer the one you head clearly missed. you forced yourself to sit through the rest of the lecture, trying to pay attention as best as you could. it didn’t work. eventually, you went back to doodling, your mind running wild with thoughts of regret again.

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eventually, yunjin and wonyoung forced you to go out. they thought it might help, and you believed them. maybe you just needed a night out, surrounded by people. that was bound to get your mind off of everything. so, you did your hair, your makeup, put on an outfit you felt good in. forced yourself to smile, taking a deep breath as you told yourself over and over that this would help. it was a good idea. but the second you stepped inside the bustling restaurant, laughter and voices echoing around you, you realized just how wrong you were. he was everywhere. in the boy at the next table, who wore his hoodie half zipped, his elbows rested on the table as he talked to his friends. in the smell of the cup of coffee a waiter walked by you, your mind drifting back to the café that had become your go-to. you haven’t gone since. in the laugh from someone a few tables down- a different voice, a different person, but it still made your stomach twist. the worst part was the basketball game playing on the tv mounted above the bar. you couldn’t help the way your eyes kept drifting to it, scanning the screen over and over again like you would see him. it wasn’t even your schools team, but you couldn’t stop. it just reminded you of him. the way he moved, controlling the court, making everyone root for him. you remembered the way his eyes would look for yours in the crowd after he scored a point. it made your breath hitch. you weren’t sure how long you stared, hyper focused on the tv, until yunjin’s hand tapped your lightly, your eyes reluctantly pulling away from the tv and back to hers. “you alright? you haven’t said much,” she murmured, beat voice soft, cautious. you shook your head, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “i’m fine,” you lied, forcing yourself to engage in the conversation that was happening. neither of them look convinced. and your eyes kept flickering back to the tv.

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you barely ate. you weren’t even doing it on purpose- didn’t realize how long you would go without eating. you just had no appetite, no desire to fuel your body. you would go the whole day, not even realizing you hadn’t eaten until it was 9pm and yunjin was shoving a cup of ramen in your face with a firm “eat.” it reminded you of how much he loved ramen. the thought only made you want to eat it less, your stomach churning at the thought. sleep wasn’t much better. nights were the absolute worst. at least during the day, you could fake it. pretend you were fine, put on a fake smile and laugh at unfunny jokes people made. busy yourself with small talk, classwork, and meaningless conversations to pull your mind away from the storm inside you, even if only for a bit. but at night, there was nothing to distract you. you had yunjin, of course, but you were tired of dragging her into your heartbreak fueled rants and crying sessions. so it was just you lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, yunjin’s soft breaths the only noise filling the room. you felt like you were drowning in your emotions. the loss. the regret. the ache in your chest that hadn’t gone away since that day. it was like you could feel it physically. like a weight pressing down on you, constantly following you around throughout the whole day, but it was the worst at night. you were tired. all you wanted to do was sleep. but you couldn’t. your mind was running at a million miles a minute, everything coming back to you. when you finally fell asleep, it wasn’t any better. in your dreams, you were back there- standing in front of him with a broken heart and crushed dreams. you always woke up before he could answer. and you felt stupid. because this is exactly what you had been afraid of. this is why you had been so hesitant. because you knew how it would end- you knew what he was like. and still, you let yourself fall. you didn’t even try to catch yourself, willingly stepping off the edge and enjoying the freefall until you hit the ground. hard. this was why you had stuck to romance novels for so long. why you had lived vicariously through kat stratford, rose bukater, lara jean covey… the list could go on and on. because, as much as you longed to experience romance, you were scared. scared that real life wouldn’t be like the book and movies. it wouldn’t be like the songs, or the cheesy love-at-first-sight stories old couples would tell you. and it wasn’t. it was painful, and things weren’t always destined to work out. even your playlists had shifted. whereas a week ago, your most played song was ‘bewitched’ by laufey, a lovesick smile on your face as you laid in bed, singing along to the lyrics, you found yourself repeating ‘right where you left me’ by taylor swift lately. you felt like the song described your situation too perfectly. you couldn’t decide if that was better or worse for coping. eventually you settled on the latter, because you would cry every time it came on, your breath hitching the second you heard the ‘friends break up, friends get married.” you just wanted everything to go back to normal. you wanted to go back to the day you met heeseung, walking to a different seat instead of sitting down next to him. you wanted to beg the professor to assign you with someone else. you wanted to never step foot in that fateful party that changed everything.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

it’s quiet aside from the video playing from your phone. you’re curled up in bed, a bowl of pretzels in your lap as you watch a video essay on youtube about fourth wall breaks. you had nothing else to do. yunjin was spending the night at beomgyu’s. again. wonyoung had to study for an exam coming up. you were left alone, your phone being your only entertainment. sure, you could’ve gone out. but it’s 11pm. you just needed something to keep your mind occupied. it usually doesn’t work. but tonight, things are different. you’re happier tonight. things are easier. your mind doesn’t keep drifting back to him. you stretch, rolling your neck as the voice talks about deadpool’s fourth wall breaks. it’s weirdly interesting. you forgot how entertaining youtube essays could be. the peace is shattered by a knock on your door. the sound is sharp and unexpected, making you jump slightly as you look towards the door. you freeze for a second, before checking the time on your phone. 11:15pm. who would be here this late? part of you thinks yunjin came back. but she has a key, so why wouldn’t she just unlock the door? you stand, slowly walking towards the door, yawning slightly as you near it. maybe it’s wonyoung. she could’ve finished studying and wanted to hang out. but when you finally pull open the door, your breath catches in your throat. there, standing on the other side, is heeseung. you feel your stomach churn. he looks different. there’s bags under his eyes, and his hair is messy, like he’s been running his hands through it. there’s a look in his eyes that you can quite place, something you’re grown accustomed to. you can never truly tell what he’s thinking. you stare at him, but you can’t get any words out. his eyes are staring back into yours, and it feels like time stops. you’re frozen, unable to move. he’s here. standing in front of you. you finally find your voice, forcing the words to leave your parted lips. “what are you doing here?” your tone is sharper than intended, and part of you wishes you could take them back. but it’s too late. they’re out there. heeseung stands still, his body tense. his eyes flicker around, like he’s lost deep in thought. it’s overwhelming. he hasn’t even said anything and you feel like he’s already said too much. you take a deep breath, your hand on the door as you get ready to close it. but heeseung’s fast. he reaches out, his fingers splaying across the door and halting your movements. “wait. wait,” he pleads, his voice quiet, breathy. “just let me explain, please. just- just let me in. i need to, fuck… i need to say something.” you hesitate, your eyes searching his. your mind is telling you to shut the door in his face, crawl back in bed, and pretend this conversation never happened. but you don’t. you can’t. something about his expression, the way he’s standing there, eyes pleading with you to listen for once- it stops you. so you open the door wider, letting him step inside. your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest, averting your gaze from his as you step to the side. he steps inside, and it’s like you can feel the shift in the room. you shut the door behind him, turning around to face him, and it’s like something cracks within him. he doesn’t wait a second longer. he just starts talking, words spilling out of him like a dam, like he’s been holding them back for some time. “i don’t- i don’t do relationships. i don’t know how to do them. i don’t know how to feel this way. wasn’t supposed to feel this way,” he pauses for a moment, running a shaky hand through his hair. “i was fine before you. but now, everything has changed. i’m so fucking confused.” you stand there, frozen, your stomach twisting at his words. it feels like you’ve been hit by a truck. you don’t know what to do, what to say, how to react. his voice rises slightly, and for the first time, you see his true feelings. “you- fuck, you ruined me.”

his words are softer than you expect. they lack the usual teasing. they’re not sharp or mocking. they’re just a quiet emission of something he’s been dealing with, something he doesn’t know how to navigate. the pure emotion in his voice cuts through like a knife, hitting somewhere deep inside where all the sadness had piled up inside you. “you make me want things i don’t even know how to want,” he continues, his voice quiet now, barely above a whisper. “i tried to deny it. i tried to push every feeling i had away. i couldn’t admit it to myself- i was scared.” he stops talking, sucking in a breath as he stares at you. his eyes search yours, like he’s trying to gauge your emotions. you’re not sure. you don’t even know what you’re feeling right now. you’re finally able to force a word out, your voice shaky and quiet, like you’re not even sure you want him to hear. “heeseung…” but he doesn’t respond. he just stands there, his chest rising and falling with every shaky breath he takes. his eyes stay locked on yours, and his mouth parts like he’s going to say something, start speaking again. but instead, he runs a hand through his hair, letting out an incredulous laugh. it’s not a happy laugh. it’s disbelieving, tinged with frustration and sadness, like he can’t even comprehend the fact that he’s in this position right now, pouring his heart out to someone he hurt. “fuck,” he mutters, shaking his head, his voice wavering. “i can’t even focus at practice. coach keeps yelling at me, reprimanding me, but-“ he pauses, his eyes landing on yours again. “i can’t stop thinking about you. it’s screwing me up.” you blink, the weight of his admission sinking in, making your eyes sting and a lump form in your throat. his voice is so raw, his words hitting you like a punch to the gut every time. his hand is shaky as he runs it over his face, shaking his head like he’s fighting something inside himself. “i don’t know what’s happening to me,” he continues, his voice breathy and laced with emotion. “i can’t stop wanting you. i don’t know what to do with that. i’ve never felt this for someone before.” he steps forward slightly, and you can feel yourself tense up. there’s an intensity in his eyes, raw and unfiltered. like he’s determined. it’s the most honest you’ve ever seen him be, the first time you’ve been able to tell what he’s feeling by looking at him. it almost knocks the breath out of you. “i want… i want you to be mine, y/n,” he confesses, his voice full of sincerity. “i want to hold your hand, not just have our fingers brush. i want to kiss you, for no reason at all, but because i can’t help it. i want you to be able to tell people i’m yours. i just, i want to be close to you all the time. i’ve never experienced this before, and it scares the hell out of me. but losing you is worse. i can’t keep pushing my feelings- and you- away when you’re all that i think about.” you freeze, your breath hitching as his words sink in more and more. he wants you. he wants this. your heart is racing, and your breathing picks up just a bit. heeseung takes another step closer, his voice barely above a whisper now as if he’s scared to say the words out loud. “i’m so fucking scared, y/n. this is all new to me. i don’t know how to do this. but i want to make this right. i want to be able to tell you what i’m feeling and what i want, just- please, don’t walk away again.”

the desperation in his voice tears at you, and before you can stop yourself, your vision blurs. the pressure in your chest builds, and a shaky breath leaves you as you feel the dam break. tears spill from your eyes, hot and fast, all the emotions you’ve been bottling up crashing down from the weight of his words. heeseung’s eyes widen the second he sees your face shift, and in an instant, he’s there. his hands gently cup your face, his thumb softly wiping away every tear that falls. your breath hitches at his touch, a quiet sob leaving your lips. “hey, hey, look at me,” he says softly, his hands guiding your face up carefully, like he’s afraid you might break. “i didn’t mean to- fuck. don’t cry, baby.” you can’t stop it. the tears are falling down faster that you can hold them back. heeseung’s thumbs continue to brush against your cheeks, trying to calm down the rush of emotions you’re experiencing. but it’s too much- the words, the emotions, the tenderness. it’s all so new, so different from what you’ve been experiencing these past few days. your chest tightens, a mix of pain and relief swirling inside you, and before you can stop yourself, you press your head against his chest, your fingers gripping tightly onto his hoodie in a desperate attempt to steady yourself. heeseung tenses up at the contact, his hands still cradling your face, albeit a bit awkward in this new positioning. but he doesn’t pull away. he lets you lean against him, tears spilling from your eyes as both of you breath shakily, like you’re afraid this moment could disappear at any second. for a few seconds, neither of you moves. the room is thick with tension, and the sounds of your sniffles and his uneven breathing. then slowly, cautiously, his hands finally slip down to rest at your back, gently- his touch so light you almost don’t feel it- pulling you a bit closer to him. his movements are tentative, like he’s not sure if he even has the right to hold you, but he’s too afraid to let you go. then, slowly, you pull away. but not far. just enough so you can tilt your head up, your eyes locking with his. and for a moment, it feels like the world stops. all his emotions are laid bare- his sincerity, his longing, his fear. and every emotion he’s feeling is mirrored in your gaze. you’re both scared, but you’re no longer hiding those feelings from each other. this is something new for both of you, but you know you’re ready to navigate it together.

before you can think too much about it, or second guess your thought process, you’re leaning in, pressing your lips against his. softly, tentatively at first. it’s different from every other kiss you shared. it’s not the rushed, messy kisses born from confusion and curiosity. no. it’s different. it’s slow, tender, filled with every unspoken word, every quiet confession that’s stayed locked deep inside until now. all the feelings of longing that have finally surfaced. it’s everything you both wanted but were too scared to ask for. his lips move against yours slowly, and the gentleness of the kiss contrasts everything that came before it. the rush of emotions is still there, but it's calm now, dissipating softly like the rain slowing down after a thunderstorm. it’s just the two of you, finally letting go, spilling your emotions out. heeseung’s hand moves to the back of your neck, his touch gentle but firm, pulling you closer. you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips, the soft press of his body against yours. it’s not like before. it’s real. and it’s yours. when he finally pulls back, there’s a moment of silence. neither of you say anything, but you don’t have to. the air is thick with meaning. there’s no need for words anymore. there’s a silent understanding between the two of you. a small, hesitant smile tugs at his lips, his hand moving from the back of your neck to cup your face. “i mean it,” he whispers softly, as though he’s trying to reassure both of you. his thumb brushes against your bottom lip, his eyes flickering to them before back up to your eyes. “i’m not going anywhere.” you nod, a shaky breath leaving your lips as your eyes search his. “i know,” you whisper back, the words a promise exchanged between the two of you. you lean back in, connecting your lips for the second time that night. the second they meet again, it’s different. the hesitation, the sadness, it all melts away, being replaced by something different. something neither of you can hold back anymore. your fingers dig deeper into the fabric of his hoodie, desperate for something to ground you in this moment. you feel heeseung’s hand move around to the back of your head again, fingers tangling slightly in your hair. you pull away, just slightly. your lips are still hovering over his, and you whisper, so quiet you’re not even sure if he heard. “heeseung…” you don’t even know what you’re asking for. you don’t know why you’re saying his name. his breath hitches, but he doesn’t pull away. you can feel the hand on your back tighten slightly, and he exhales softly, voice low. “i know.” and then he’s kissing you again, more sure this time, more determined. he guides you backward, each step slow, until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. he doesn’t rush you. he just holds you there, lips moving against yours, as if he’s waiting for you to stop him. you don’t.

he slowly eases you down on the bed, his hand on your back supporting you until your back collides with the bed. he follows you, until his body is hovering over yours. he finally pulls back, his weight braced on his forearm. his gaze flickers over your face, as if he’s memorizing every piece of you, trying to read your mind in this exact moment. it’s a look you’ve never seen in his eyes before, and it makes your stomach do flips. he raises one of his hands, his thumb brushing against your cheek. the softness of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help the way you push your head into his touch. and then, he speaks quietly, almost like a vow. “let me prove it to you.”your breath hitches. your eyes widen slightly, and you feel like you can’t move. you can’t speak. you feel like these past two weeks heeseung has spilt you open, making you feel things no one else has ever done before, and now he’s in front of you, offering to do the same. and for the first time, it feels real. heeseung doesn’t push. he just waits. because for the first time in a long time, this isn’t a game to him. it’s not about winning, or getting the girl. it’s about you. silence lingers between you, his words sinking into your mind. let me prove it to you. your heart pounds against your ribs, and part of you is sure he can hear it. his thumb continues to trace slow, soothing circles against your cheek, and the gentleness of it, the want, the need you feel pushes you. your fingers tighten in the fabric of his hoodie, exhaling a slow deep breath. you can feel the nerves pulsing through your body, but the warmth of his body above you, the emotions in his eyes, the softness of his touch, it’s enough. you tilt your chin up, pulling him down into another kiss. he reacts immediately, his lips moving against yours in slow, careful kisses. he still doesn’t rush you. his hand slips from your cheek to trail down your arm, fingertips skimming across your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. slowly, the kiss deepens, bit by bit. his tongue swipes across your bottom lip, and just like last time, you let him in. it’s still clumsy, but you let yourself relax under his touch, sighing against his lips. his hand finds your waist, his fingers tightening slightly like he’s trying to hold himself back, and slowly, his lips trail lowers. to the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then the soft curve of your neck. your breath hitches. his lips are moving slowly, his kisses soft and fleeting, like he’s testing the waters, lingering, waiting for any sign that this is too much. but you don’t stop him. instead, you let your head roll back slightly against the pillow, granting him more access to your neck. his kisses grow more intense at that, sucking a piece of your skin and pulling a gasp out of you. his fingers brush under the hem of your shirt, just barely slipping beneath the fabric, his fingertips pressing slightly on your stomach. it sends a shiver down your spine, and instinctively, your body tenses. not out of fear- but because it’s new.

this isn’t like the last time this happened. it’s more full of emotion, more sure, like you’re dedicating yourself to him. like this time, you’re truly crossing a line that can never be undone. heeseung notices immediately. he stills, his lips hovering over your skin, his warm breath against your neck sending a shiver through you. he stops moving his hand up, simply opting to run slow, lazy circles on your torso with his thumb. he pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching your face, as if he’s trying to understand what you want. what you need.you swallow, his gaze making something churn inside you. your chest is rising and falling in quick, timid breaths, nerves rushing through you. the hesitation is there. the fear. but so is the anticipation. the want. the need to experience something new, to finally give in to what your body and heart have been desiring. so you don’t pull away. you don’t stop him. instead, you push yourself up slightly, your lips hovering against his, and you whisper, “it’s okay.” something in his gaze darkens, something unreadable passing through his expression. he holds your gaze for a second longer, like he’s giving you one last chance to change your mind. like he’s trying to make sure that you’re sure. but when you don’t- when you reach up and curl your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling his lips fully against yours- his restraint snaps.his kisses are hungry, taking more and more from you. and you love it. his hand under your shirt moves again, fingers splaying across your ribs as he holds you there, his lips moving against yours. for the first time, neither of you are trying to hold back. you arch slightly, pushing your chest into his hand, assuring him he can go further. and just like that his hand moves up more, cupping your breast over your bra and eliciting a gasp from your lips. your fingers curl in his hair, your chest rising and falling at the new sensation. heeseung can feel his restraint slipping more and more by the second. the need to be all over you, to make you feel sensations you’ve never felt before. but even through the haze, he’s careful. because this is you. and he knows this is a lot. his lips place sloppy kisses against your neck, his fingers groping and massaging your breast, ripping gasps and sighs from your lips. it’s like each kiss, each touch is a silent question, waiting, asking for permission without saying the words. and you give it to him. in the way your back arches, the way your hands tug at the strands of his hair, the gasps that leave your pretty lips as he explores places of you no one ever has before. he exhales a shaky breath against your skin, and he pauses, resting his head against your shoulder. his hand pulls at the cup of your bra, teasing you- and himself. tempting both of you with what’s about to happen. his body is tense, his breathing heavy, like he’s trying to control himself.

and then he lifts his head, his eyes dark and dazed as he looks at you. god, the way he looks at you. it makes your heart stutter, your stomach flip, it sends a rush of desire through you, your thighs attempting to close, rub together, ease any of the tension you’re feeling. but of course, like last time, you can’t. not with heeseung resting between your legs. his lips part slightly, like he wants to say something. but instead, he swallows hard, his eyes roaming across your frame. and before you can even process it, before you can allow yourself to feel self-conscious under his gaze- he moves. his finger slides out from under your shirt, and his hands curl around the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head with one smooth motion. a gasp leaves your lips, and he tosses it aside, not caring where it lands. and then he’s back on you. his lips are pressing urgent, feverish kisses across your newly exposed skin. his hands are everywhere, his lips are everywhere. he kisses you like he needs it. it leaves your head spinning, and your body feeling like it’s on fire. “heeseung-“ his name leaves your lips in a breathless plea, barely more than a whisper, feeling everything all at once. you feel him shudder against you, his lips pausing against your breast. then, slowly, his hand slips behind your back, his fingers resting on your bra clasp. it sends a shiver through you, your heart stuttering at the feeling. his voice is low, filled with lust, and he raises his head just slightly, his eyes meeting yours. “can i?” and you nod. you don’t think twice, simply pushing your back off the bed to give him easier access. and slowly, he pulls your bra off of you, leaving your top half completely exposed to him, showing him more than anyone else has ever seen. “you’re fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, before his lips are back on you, his lips immediately latching onto one of your nipples, his tongue flicking, his lips sucking lightly, sending pleasure coursing through your veins. his hand comes up to massage the other one, pulling a choked moan from your lips. the feeling is so new, so foreign, and you didn’t know it could feel this good. you can’t help the way you squirm under his touch, your head falling back as breathless sighs leave your lips. your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard. and heeseung groans against your skin. a low, deep sound that vibrates through you, making your stomach clench and your thighs twitch, desperate to alleviate the need growing within you. and slowly, he sits up, his eyes locked on yours. your chest rises and falls rapidly as you watch him, already missing the feeling of his mouth on you. but then. his fingers grab his hoodie, pulling it over his head.

something deep pools inside you at the sight of him. something that has you attempting to clench your thighs. your eyes take over his figure. the toned muscles, the sharp lines, his v-line, the way his sweatpants hang just a little too low on his hips. it makes your mouth water. but you don’t get to stare long. because his lips are back on you immediately. trailing over your chest before moving down slowly. his hands rub down your sides, mapping out every curve. his lips trail between your breasts, then down the center of your stomach. his kisses are slow and unhurried, making you feel dizzy. you body is so sensitive to every little thing he does. your breath catches as he gets lower, and lower, and lower- until he stops. his lips rest right above the waistband of your sweatpants, his hot breath against your skin making you shudder. he looks up at you, his eyes dark, filled with lust, and you can feel yourself clench around nothing. his fingers toy with the waistband of your sweats, simply watching you. as if he’s asking for permission without saying a word. and you give it to him. you push your hips off the bed slightly, slow and needy, your eyes full of desire as you stare at him, a shaky exhale leaving your lips. “fuck,” heeseung whispers against your skin, a shiver running through you. you feel the way his grip on your waistband tightens, his mouth so tantalizingly close to where you need him. and then his lips part, a soft breath leaving his lips as he finally speaks, his voice low and dark. “are you sure?” you nod, a soft whimper leaving your lips as you wriggle your hips, your eyes pleading with him. he only breathes a laugh against your skin, the sound quiet and breathless, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your skin, a shaky breath leaving your lips as the feeling sends a shiver down your spine. “words, baby,” he whispers out, his voice low and teasing, but there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach twist and your core clench around nothing. you don’t even know if you can speak. everything is so overwhelming in the best way possible, your eyes flickering all over his face as he just watches you with a smirk. you push your hips up again, your breath coming out desperate and breathy as you whisper. “heeseung, please.” that’s all it takes for him. he smiles, pressing another kiss to your skin before his fingers dip under your waistband, tugging your sweats and underwear down in one go. his fingers tug slowly, revealing more and more by the second. you feel more exposed, suddenly aware of how you’re now completely naked in front of heeseung. but you trust him. his eyes stay on yours the entire time, until he finally gets your pants off your legs completely, tossing them somewhere in the room. only then, does his gaze drop down, and you can see the way his eyes darken as he zeroes in on you. you go to close your legs, suddenly self aware, but he grips your thighs before you get the chance, a soft gasp leaving your lips as he looks back up at you. “keep these open for me, hm?” his thumbs rub slow, absentminded circles against your skin as he just watches you. like he’s committing the sight of you laid out bare beneath him to his memory. but it’s torturous for you.a whimper catches in your throat as your hands grip at the sheets, your hips attempting to move. “heeseung-“ he pushes your hips down, keeping you in place as he shakes his head. “you’re so needy, baby.” slowly, his fingers trail up your inner thighs, so close to where you need him, but never quite touching you, never giving you what you so desperately need. you whine, shifting your hips up, trying to feel something, but he just pushes your thighs down again. “patience,” he murmurs, the corner of his lips quirking up. “let me take my time with you.” and slowly, so slowly, he runs a finger along your slick folds, the sensation making a gasp slip from your lips. your thighs twitch, and he moves his finger up, pressing down on your clit and pulling a soft moan from you.

“oh- heeseung,” you gasp out, your eyes closing and opening again as your chest rises and falls rapidly, growing accustomed to the feeling of someone else controlling your pleasure. he hums, before moving his finger back down, finally inserting a finger inside you. a moan slips past your lips, your walls fluttering around him. “shit, baby,” he exhales, a breathy laugh leaving him as he looks up at your face before back down at your cunt. “you’re so tight.” he curls his finger, stretching you open as you gasp and whine, your hands tightening in the sheets as he pushes another finger inside your dripping cunt. you let out a shaky breath, your head rolling back against the pillow. and then his mouth is on you. a choked moan rips from your throat as his mouth sucks on your clit, the new feeling making your eyes shoot open as your hands fly from the sheets to his hair. “heeseung- fuck-“ you gasp out, your hips attempting to move, but he uses his free hand to press down on your stomach, forcing you to stay still. to take it. it’s too much too fast. you can feel the knot in your stomach tightening, every suck and press pushing you closer to the edge. your fingers tighten in his hair, and heeseung groans against you, sending a delicious vibration through you. your thighs shake as you gasp, teetering right on the edge. “heeseung,” you moan out, your voice shaky and strained, “gonna- i-“ you can barely get the words out before his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. he hums, the feeling making you squirm before he mutters, “already?” and then his mouth is back on you. his fingers are moving faster, his mouth sucking harder, his tongue working over your clit in slow circles. it's too much. your body tenses up and finally, the coil snaps. a broken moan spills from your throat as your back arches off the bed, your body trembling as you come undone. you can feel his arm press down harder, holding your bottom half still as you gasp, unable to do anything but take it. he doesn’t stop. at least, not immediately. he works you through it, his tongue lapping up every drop of your release, his fingers still moving and drawing out your pleasure. only when it’s too much, a whine slipping past your lips as your hands tug at his hair, does he stop. he pulls back, the bottom half of his face glistening with your slick, his eyes dark as he meets yours- and somehow, you want more all over again. “still with me, princess?” his voice is teasing, and he pushes himself up until he’s hovering over you. “or did i fuck you dumb already?” you can barely answer, the aftershocks of your orgasm still coursing through you. his lips hover above yours, a small smile on his lips before he presses them against yours. you can taste yourself against his lips, slightly bitter. your hips attempt to close, but he’s already settled himself between your legs, and you can feel him smirk against your lips as he grinds his hips just enough for you to feel him. it makes you gasp against his lips, desire coursing through you again. you can feel how hard he is, the outline of his cock pressing against your inner thigh through his sweats. “you want this just as much as i do, don’t you?” he mumbles against your lips, his voice a low rasp. you can only nod, your breath catching in your throat as he rolls his hips again. “think you can take me, baby?” he smirks, one of his hands sliding down your body to pull your legs open further, pressing his clothed cock right against your core and grinding down, forcing a quiet moan from you. “please,” you whine out, your eyes fluttering shut as your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. “yeah? want me inside you? stretching you out, filling you up for the first time?” he whispers against your lips, pressing his hips harder against yours as he lets out a strained breath. your breath hitches at the lewd words leaving his lips, but your cunt clenches around nothing. you finally crack, words spilling from your lips. “yes- please… want you,” you murmur, your eyes pleading with him, full of desire.

his smirk deepens, and he presses a final kiss to your lips before pushing himself up. his fingers dig into the waistband of his sweats, and in one fluid motion, he pulls them down along with his boxers. his cock slaps against his stomach, his tip angry and leaking, and your eyes widen at the sight. how the fuck was that going to fit inside you? he stroked himself a few times, huffing out a laugh at your surprised expression. “see something you like?” he asks, a teasing tone to his voice. you roll your eyes with a small smile, but you can’t hide the desire in your expression. the way your cunt clenches around nothing as your eyes flicker back down to where his cock strands. he leans down, hovering over you as he pulls one of your legs open, exposing you to himself further. his cock brushes against your inner thigh, his tip leaking against your skin and causing you to shudder. “is it… gonna hurt?” you ask quietly, almost feeling stupid for asking such a question. but he doesn’t judge you. his expression shifts from one of amusement to something more soft, his hand on your thigh rubbing gentle circles as he smiles at you. “it might sting a little bit,” he whispers back, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “but just relax for me, alright? i’ll take care of you.” you nod, your voice breathless as you reply. “okay.” your pulse races as his cock brushes against your folds, the reality of everything setting in. you’re about to lose your virginity. it makes a mix of anxiety and adrenaline rush through you, a mewl leaving you at the feeling. “that’s my girl,” he whispers, his hand leaving your thigh to grab his cock, rubbing himself up and down your folds, coating himself in your juices and drawing quiet moans from your lips, your hips pushing up just slightly, chasing the sensation. finally, he positions himself at your entrance, his hips pushing forward as he enters you. the stretch makes your breath catch in your throat. it stings. it’s overwhelming. it’s such a new feeling, sending a shiver down your spine as your cunt clenches around him, drawing a groan from his lips. “fuck,” you breathe out, your voice shaky and quiet, fading into a moan as your eyes clench shut. he pauses for a moment, letting you adjust to the stretch as he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. “you’re doing so good for me, baby,” he murmurs, his hand sliding to your cunt, rubbing soft circles on your clit and ripping a gasp from you. “just breathe for me.” it distracts you from the burning stretch, dulling the pain the slightest bit as your cunt clenches around him, his hips starting to move again. a soft, shaky breath leaves your lips, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders as he fills you completely. “feel good, princess?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft as his thumb continues to rub circles against your clit, a little faster now. you nod, words caught in your throat as the pleasure begins to mix with the pain, giving way to a sensation- a fullness- you’ve never felt before. finally, he bottoms out. you can fill every ridge and vein, your cunt pulsing around him as it struggles to accommodate the stretch. his thumb never stops circling your clit, easing you into full pleasure. he doesn’t move, simply resting inside you and letting you adjust to the new feeling. and slowly, the pain fades. replaced by pleasure, a want- a need- for more. your hips move slightly, a gasped moan slipping past your lips at the pleasure that rushes through you. “please,” you whimper, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your eyes flutter open, meeting his. “move…”

slowly, carefully, he pulls out slightly, dragging out of you before pushing back in, pulling a soft moan from your lips. every roll of his hips presses him further inside you, making your mind hazy as you adjust to the fullness. “hee,” you whimper out, your head rolling back as the feeling grows more pleasurable, sending your head spiraling with every thrust. his thumb still circles your clit, drinking in every reaction you give him. “yeah, baby?” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, making you focus on him for a second. “still doing good?” you nod, your breath getting caught in your throat as he hits a particularly deep spot. it feels good. it feels so good. but you want more. you need more. “yeah,” you whisper. “feels good, but-“ you hesitate, but you don’t need to finish. you catch the way heeseung’s eyes darken immediately, his movements stilling for just a second, like he’s processing your words, before he’s moving again. “you want more, princess?” his voice is lower now, darker. hungrier. it makes you clench around him, a hiss leaving his lips, the corner of his lips quirking up. you nod frantically, your fingers gripping his shoulders as his hand leaves your clit to find purchase on your waist. “please,” you gasp out. “i need-“ you don’t get to finish. a moan spills from your throat as he pulls out, only to slam back in. his careful, slow, pace is gone in an instant, replaced by something deeper. something intoxicating. your fingers claw at his shoulders, his arms, his back, anything you can to ground yourself as his thrusts speed up. “fuck,” he grits out, his head dropping to your shoulder as his hips snap forward again, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. “knew you’d take me so well, baby.” it’s too much. the pleasure builds, your moans getting louder. you can’t even control the noises leaving your mouth, too lost in the pleasure. you don’t even register how loud you’re getting until his hand clamps over your mouth. your eyes fly open, seeing him hovering over you now, his gaze half-lidded and dark. his lips are parted, uneven breaths leaving him as his hips continue to ram into you.“shh, princess,” he rasps, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he hits a particularly deep spot, making you moan out against his mouth. “only i get to hear those pretty sounds, yeah?” a muffled whimper leaves your mouth, your walls fluttering around him as you process his words. his pace never slows, pushing your limits, testing just how much you can really take. and you love it. “bet you’d sound so pretty if you could really let go,” he murmurs, his dark eyes staring into yours. his free hand trails down, resting on your stomach. your eyebrows furrow slightly, just before he presses down. your eyes roll back, a loud moan escaping your mouth and being concealed by his palm. it makes you feel him, all of him. stretching you. filling you completely. “you feel that, baby?” his fingers press harder, drawing another strangled moan from your lips as your eyes clench shut. “so fucking deep inside you. you take me so well, fuck-“ your body responds before you know what you’re doing. your hips roll up to meet his, desperate for more of the pleasure you’re experiencing. and heeseung loses it. “can you be quiet for me, princess?” he whispers. and you nod, hazy, dazed. he smirks, pressing harder on your stomach and pulling a broken moan from your lips as your body jolts beneath him. he slowly removes his hand from your mouth, sliding it down your body to grab your thigh, spreading you wider for him. a choked whimper leaves your lips, your mouth clenched shut as you try your hardest to hold your sounds in. but it feels too good. tears gather in your lashes, your body arching into his.

his cock twitches inside you, a dark grin on his face as he tilts his head at you. “what’s wrong, baby?” his voice is mocking, teasing, cruel. and it only drives you crazier. a tear slips down your cheek, your cunt clenching around him. you don’t trust your voice- hell, you don’t even know if you can speak right now.“too much?” he asks, but he doesn’t stop. if anything, he pushes deeper. you shake your head frantically, a broken sob leaving your lips as more tears spill down your cheeks. he sits back on his heels, the new angle pushing him deeper as a choked moan slips past your lips, your own hand coming up to cover your mouth. he only chuckles, his voice dripping with amusement- and something darker- as he watches you unravel beneath him. “feels good, doesn’t it?” it’s too much. it’s all too much. the coil in your stomach is winding tight, threatening to pull you over the edge at any second. and heeseung notices. he notices how your thighs began to shake, your moans turning into breathy, desperate whimpers, the way you clench around him. “close?” is all he asks, his eyes dark and lidded as he watches you. your hand slides from the sheet to his arm, desperate to find something to ground yourself as you teeter on the edge. “hee-“ you manage to gasp out, your voice breaking off into a moan as tears slide down your cheeks. he groans at the way you clench around him, his hand finding your clit again, rubbing tight, merciless circles, forcing you closer to the edge. and it’s too much. it builds so fast it makes your head spin. hell, you don’t even feel like you’re real at this point.“come for me, princess,” he groans out, thrusting particularly deep inside you. “let go.”your orgasm rips through you, your back arching off the bed as you cry out, a loud, broken moan barely muffled by your hand. your vision goes white, your body locking up as the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had takes over your body. but he doesn’t stop. his pace doesn’t falter for a second, fucking you through your high, testing your limits as the pleasure shifts into something more intense. your body can barely keep up. you’re sobbing, gasping, your body stuck between pushing him away and pulling him closer. “just a bit longer, baby,” he groans, his hand moving from your clit to your waist, holding you still as his thrusts turn erratic. your eyes roll back, your poor body unable to keep up with the pleasure you’re feeling. and then, a low guttural moan escapes heeseung’s lips, his hips pressing as hard as they can against yours as he finally spills inside you. the sensation of being filled has you gasping, clenching around him as his body trembles with his orgasm. slowly, he lowers himself down, pressing soft kisses to your lips to ease you back to reality, your dazed eyes meeting his as ragged breaths escape your lips. you’re wrecked. “you did so good for me, princess,” he murmurs, his voice breathless as his lips trail soft kisses down your jaw, his warm hands soothing over your trembling thighs, slowly pulling you back down to earth. you can’t even find the words to speak. you only nod, your hand slowly lifting to tangle in his hair, just resting there. he chuckles, leaning up to look at you. a soft smile forms on his lips, his thumbs brushing the tears off of your cheeks. “you okay?” you nod again, your voice wrecked, barely more than a whisper. “yeah.”

he doesn’t say anything, simply watching you. his gaze is so soft, his touch featherlight against your skin. his hips pull back slowly, making you gasp at the sensitivity it sends through you. and then he’s pulling out, his hands moving down to your hips as he sits back on his heels. your hips shift, adjusting to the empty feeling, a shiver running through you when you feel his cum dripping out of you. heeseung pauses, his eyes fixed on the sight, hands gripping your hips tighter as he breathes out, “fuck…” your face heats up, self-consciousness taking over when it finally sets in that you’re completely exposed in front of him. your legs attempt to close, a whine leaving your lips- but heeseung’s faster. his hands grip your thighs, keeping you held open as a smile forms on his lips. “don’t get all shy on me now, baby,” his voice is quiet, his eyes flickering up to yours as you avert your gaze. your hips shift, another soft, embarrassed noise leaving you, but he simply laughs under his breath. “you were just moaning for me a few minutes ago.” “heeseung,” you mumble, dragging out his name as you continue to move beneath him, trying to pull your thighs out of his grasp. your hands attempt to bat his away halfheartedly, but you’re too exhausted to actually push him, watching the way he pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth with a smile while watching your struggle. he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your stomach that has your breath catching, your hands halting their movements. “you were so good for me. look at you,” he mumbles, his eyes dragging over your body slowly, “all fucked out and pretty.” you let out a noise of protest, slapping at his shoulder before your hands come up to cover your face, groaning against your hands. “okay,” he laughs, finally letting go of your legs. “i’ll stop. don’t want you crying again.” you huff, turning your head to hide your face in the pillow, but a smile tugs at your lips. “you’re the worst.” he only laughs again, slipping off the bed, and you hear his footsteps moving away from the bed. “mhm. didn’t hear you complaining earlier.” you let out a dramatic groan, completely turning your body away from him, choosing not to answer this time.

when he finally returns, he sits down on the bed, one hand gently pulling your leg up, exposing you to him again. “heeseung,” you whine, lifting your head to look at him. his eyes flicker up to yours, before looking down again, the wet rag making contact with your legs and making you gasp, everything still so sensitive. “relax,” he whispers, his touch gentle, moving ever so carefully over the parts that make you flinch, your legs shifting with every pass. you nod into the pillow, finally letting your body relax again as your eyes flutter shut, exhaustion slowly taking over your body. “there we go,” he murmurs, tossing the rag aside and settling in bed besides you, pulling the covers over the both of you. his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him, your body instantly relaxing into his. his fingers rake through your hair, slow and comforting, making you let out a soft sigh, curling further into him. “you good?” he whispers again, like he always have to make sure you’re alright. “yeah,” you you yawn, shifting and closing your eyes. “tired.” you hear a soft, breathy laugh leaving his lips, before he presses a kiss to the top of your head, his fingers resuming their movements in your hair. “go to sleep, y/n.” you nod, letting the beating of heeseung’s heart in your ear guide you into a slumber as sleep lulls you away.

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

“one iced coffee, please,” you smile, holding out a ten-dollar bill to the cashier in front of you. she gives you a look, but smiles back, taking the cash anyway. “no hot chocolate today?” you wave your hand dismissively, biting back a giddy smile. “oh, it’s not for me.” she raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push, simply nodding and punching in your order. “alright, then. we’ll have that out soon.” you rock back and forth on your feet, wonyoung and yunjin waiting at a table behind you. once your order is out, you’re walking back to the girls with a bit more pep in your step, holding the cup up to signal you’re ready to leave. you begin to walk out the door, a giddy smile on your lips as you look down at the coffee, before back up- completely oblivious to the look wonyoung and yunjin share. “so, why’d you get an iced coffee?” yunjin asks, tilting her head as she looks at the drink in your hand. “oh, just for someone,” you smile, shrugging lightly as you continue to walk. “you look too happy,” wonyoung teases you, poking your cheek as she watches the smile on your face grow larger, “what happened?” “nothing, guys!” you laugh, pushing wonyoung’s hand away. you continue to walk, making a beeline for the gym. you don’t miss the confused looks they send you as you speed up slightly. “okay, seriously, where are we going?” wonyoung asks, speeding up slightly as she picks up on the direction you’re headed. “the gym? the basketball team is in there right now,” yunjin adds, scrunching her eyebrows. “y/n. y/n? that means heeseung is in there! hello?” you don’t even hesitate when you open the gym doors, the two girls trailing behind you, clearly confused. “y/n. why are we in here?” wonyoung hisses, grabbing your arm as the sound of squeaking shoes and a basketball hitting the floor fills the air.

and then, all the noises slow. the guys spare a glance at you, before doing a double take once they recognize you. because heeseung has talked about you. and they’ve seen you with him. but the moment heeseung sees you, his focused expression shifts. his sharp gaze softens, a smile forming on his face as his feet slow to a stop. he starts moving, jogging over slowly. his shirt is slightly damp, his breathing slightly heavy. “hi, pretty girl,” he smiles, his gaze warmer. wonyoung’s grip on your arm loosens, and you can see her jaw drop from the corner of your eye. “hi,” you reply, holding out the coffee, “i brought you coffee.” he grins, taking the cup and tilting his head. “really? i thought you hated iced coffee.” you bite back a laugh, shaking your head lightly before shrugging. “you don’t.” you watch as his smile shifts into something else. something in his eyes that you can’t process, but he’s looking at you like you placed the stars in the sky. it makes your stomach flip, a blush forming on your cheeks. his hand slips around your waist, tugging you closer as he presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. your hand instinctively grabs onto his jersey, tugging him slightly closer, your lips forming into a smile against his. “hello?” you hear yunjin ask, a few guys behind you laughing. “what?” you ask, pulling back from heeseung’s lips, tilting your head with a small smile. “am i not allowed to come say hi to my boyfriend?” silence. until wonyoung squeals, practically yanking yunjin towards her. “i called it!” even heeseung himself seems a bit thrown off guard, his eyes widening a bit before he pulls himself together, a smug grin pulling at the corner of his lips. “oh?” he murmurs, leaning in just enough for you to hear. “say that again?” “damn, y/n,” jake laughs, stepping up besides the two of you and clapping heeseung on the back. “you managed to lock the playboy down.” “so,” jake continues, nodding at the drink in your hand with a shit-eating grin, “care to bring me one of those next time?” you don’t even get to open your mouth before heeseung is speaking. “no.” jake blinks. “i was talking to-“ “still no.” he throws his hands up, turning on his heel and walking away, grumbling out, “forget i asked.” you roll your eyes, suppressing a smile as you look back at heeseung, who simply shrugs at you. he’s insufferable. and he’s yours. 

AFTER FIGHTING FOR THREE DAYS... I GOT IT TO WORK. sorry about the weird formatting at some points, it's the only way i was able to fit this whole fic into one post ^^! also,, did not realize how much i wrote "and then" until i was editing this god damn girl stop sing those words for one second... hope you guys enjoyed !!!!

taglist: @bussolares @w3willris3 @nithxhoon @elairah @fancypeacepersona @talesofthegreatest @jaehoonii @onlyticket-home @cutehoons02 @isagistar @immelissaaa @seongiewon @llearlert @rosepetals09 @cloud-lyy @enhaheart8 @millisvlog @rayofsunshineeee @littlesweettea-aine @evorlaah @kittycatwonie @somuchdard @miraeluv @heewenos @katarinamae @h4niyahcar @aejakeslvr @girlwholovekpop @dearestdreamies

^i tried to tag everyone, but some ppl weren’t coming up so if urs doesn’t work i’m sorry abt that😭

border creds: @uzmacchiato

[angelx]

I don't Wanna Leave

cw: NSFW! ex-boyfriend!katsuki x fem!reader, exes to lovers, reunion sex, thigh grabbing, unresolved tension, emotional vulnerability, praise, fingering, oral (f!receiving), penetrative sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dub-con, sorry for the long intro

You hadn’t meant to see him.

You swore you wouldn’t—had half a dozen plans in your head to dip early or fake a phone call the moment his name popped up on the RSVP list for Class A’s five-year reunion. But now you’re here, hands cold and clammy around a red plastic cup, wishing someone would invent a quirk that lets you go invisible just this once.

But fate—or maybe some cruel cosmic joke—had other plans.

Because Katsuki Bakugou just walked into the party, backlit by the golden glow of the rooftop lights like the universe still had the audacity to make him look good. Black slacks hugging his thighs, button-up slightly open at the collar, that same cocky grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he didn’t leave you behind like an unfinished sentence.

You look away fast, pretending to listen to something Denki says about streaming or crypto or something that doesn’t matter. You do everything you can to avoid him. Laugh a little too loudly with Kirishima. Stick close to Jirou and hide behind conversations you don’t care about. But he keeps drifting closer. Like smoke. Like fire. Like something you thought you’d long since buried. And when he finally corners you by the drinks table, eyes half-lidded and smug?

“Didn’t think you’d show, up” he murmurs, voice thick with heat and amusement.

You shrug. “Didn’t think you’d remember my face after five years.”

His smirk flickers—just for a second. But it’s enough. “Hard to forget the girl I used to fuck against my bedroom door every night.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “Still sharp-tongued, huh?”

“Still making you wet with one sentence,” he whispers, leaning in, breath hot against your ear.

You step back like his touch burns you. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t come here to start a fight.”

“Yeah? Then what did you come here to do? Remind me how you disappeared without a word? Or how you chose your damn career over me like I was just—”

“Stop,” he snaps, the cocky mask cracking. “You think I forgot that night? That I wanted to let you go?” Your throat tightens.

“I hated myself every fucking day,” he says lowly, voice raw. “You were the best thing I ever had, and I was too much of a scared little shit to handle it.”

And then— “Let me drive you home.”

The reunion blurred into a haze of polite small talk and champagne, but he kept orbiting you like some kind of gravity-defiant bastard star, and you couldn’t run fast enough. So of course, when the party started dying down and your Uber bailed, it was him standing by his black Porsche, holding out his keys with that smirk that made your chest clench. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

“I’d rather walk.”

“It’s a 45-minute walk in heels, and you drank half the bar.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re stubborn,” he muttered, unlocking the passenger side anyway.

You hated that he was right. Even more, you hated how your feet moved toward the car anyway. You should say no. You should tell him to rot in the mess he made. But you don’t. Because your heart’s a stupid thing with muscle memory—and it remembers how to beat for him.

The ride is quiet at first, the tension thick enough to slice. The Porsche purrs beneath you, sleek and fast—like him. His hand finds your thigh halfway through, firm and warm. Your breath catches.

“You always flinched when I touched you the first time,” he says softly, thumb stroking up the inside. “Like you were scared of wanting it.”

“I wasn’t scared of wanting,” you whisper. “I was scared of needing.”

He glances at you, and his voice is low. “Do you still?”

You should lie. But his hand slides higher, brushing the edge of your panties beneath your dress. Your hips jerk. “…Yes.”

That silence that follows is deafening. Not the kind that begs for words—but the kind that crackles with meaning. His thumb stays there, hovering just beneath the fabric, pulsing with heat. He doesn’t move it. He doesn’t have to.

“Where do you live?” he says quietly and you swallow. You gave him the street name like muscle memory. He drives the rest of the way with his hand on your thigh, fingers ghosting over your skin in slow, idle circles. Possessive. Intimate. Like nothing ever ended between you. You hate how natural it feels.

The car pulls up to your apartment complex, sleek and black under the amber glow of streetlights. The engine hums into silence, but neither of you moves. When you glance at him, he’s already looking at you. The tension is too real.

“I shouldn’t ask,” he says, low and rough. “But I’m gonna.”

You know the question before he says it. “Can I come up?”

You shouldn’t. Every piece of self-preservation you have left is screaming no. But your hand is already on the door handle. You nod.

The elevator ride is painfully quiet. You’re standing side by side, not touching, not speaking—but your skin is buzzing with awareness. You can feel his heat. Hear his shallow breathing. You can practically taste the restraint burning off him in waves. Your key shakes a little as you unlock the door.

And the second it swings open— He’s on you. No more waiting. No more pretending. You crash into each other like you were pulled by gravity.

The door slams shut behind you.

He’s on you like a storm—mouth crashing into yours, hands tearing at your dress, shoving it up to your waist. Your back hits the wall. You gasp when his mouth latches to your neck, teeth grazing the skin he once called his. “Fuck, you smell the same,” he mutters, dragging his teeth down your throat. “Like vanilla and fuckin’ heaven.”

“You left me,” you whisper, nails digging into his shoulders.

He growls. “I know. And I’ll never forgive myself. But fuck—let me have you tonight.”

“You’re a fucking jerk.”

“Yeah?” His hand slips into your panties. “Then let me fuck you like one.” His fingers stroke your slit—wet, aching, desperate. You moan. Loud. Shameful.

“You missed this,” he whispers, sinking two fingers in deep. “Missed me.”

“I hate you.”

“Then hate me while you come.”

He drops to his knees. Tongue flat, wide, filthy. He eats you like he’s starving—like it’s the first meal he’s had in five years. You’re a mess in seconds, hips grinding into his face, thighs trembling, tears slipping from your eyes from the overwhelmingness of it.

“Katsuki—fuck—oh my God—”

“That’s right,” he grunts, licking up your orgasm. “God doesn’t hear you tonight, princess. I do.”

He doesn’t stop. Keeps going. Builds you up again. One orgasm melts into the next. Your legs give out, and he catches you, lifts you like nothing, carries you to your bed. You don’t notice if he even put a condom on. All you feel is his hand gripping your hip, the other cradling your face—gentle, almost reverent—and then—

He thrusts in, all at once.

A scream tears from your throat. It’s not pretty. It’s raw—a sound scraped up from five years of aching. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let you catch your breath. He drives into you with such force that the bed frame slams against the wall.

"Fuck—fuck, baby," he groans, teeth clenched. “Still the tightest fucking pussy I’ve ever had.”

Your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, locking him in. You claw down his back, nails dragging angry red lines along old scars and new muscle.

“You always took me so fucking well,” he groans, hips pounding into you, breath ragged. “Your pussy was made for my cock. Still is.”

He fucks you like he owns you. Hard. Deep. Relentless. Your legs are shaking. You’re babbling nonsense. Your eyes roll back as he leans down and licks your tears off your cheek.

“Missed this—missed you,” he pants. “You fuckin’ hear me?”

You can’t answer. You’re moaning, crying, whimpering as he splits you open like it’s the only way he knows how to say sorry.

“You ruined me, y’know that?” he growls into your ear, voice breaking. “I couldn’t touch anyone else without thinking of this—of you.”

He fucks you harder, rougher, like he’s trying to carve himself back into your body.

“I should’ve begged you to stay,” he pants. “Should’ve fought for you.”

“It’s too late,” you gasp.

“No... It's not,” he growls, snapping his hips. “Not if you still come for me like this.” You clench around him and he loses it.

“Still so fuckin’ greedy for me,” he hisses, watching the way your tits bounce, the way your lips part in helpless little gasps. “Drippin’ around me like a whore.”

Your eyes roll back. A sob escapes you. “Katsuki—!”

“That’s right,” he snarls, hand slipping down to press firm circles on your clit. “Say my fuckin’ name when you come.”

And you do. You come so hard your vision whites out, body convulsing, mouth open in a silent scream. But he doesn't stop. Doesn't slow down. If anything, he fucks you through it—drags you to another high with ruthless precision.

“Gonna fill you,” he pants, hips slamming into you. “Wanna paint your insides. Want you leaking me for days.”

You nod, dazed. Wrecked. Begging without words.

“Fuck—fuck, take it—take all of it,” he groans, and then he’s burying himself to the hilt, cock twitching as he spills into your womb with a broken, guttural growl.

You come again just from the sound. He collapses on top of you, shaking. Breath hitching. He doesn’t pull out. He just holds you. The weight of him grounding you as your chest heaves beneath his. There’s silence—except for your ragged breaths and the sound of rain now spitting against the windowpane.

His lips press to your shoulder. Soft. Regretful. Like an apology too late. His breathing is still erratic. Shallow. Like he’s trying to catch more than just air. You’re both still tangled—his cock softening, your thighs sticky with sweat and slick and everything in between. His forehead rests against yours, skin hot and damp, and for one second… it almost feels like love again.

Until it doesn’t. Until the silence creeps in.

You feel it first. That hollow, cold pull in your chest. The realization, like a slap, of what just happened. What it means—or doesn’t.

He pulls out slowly, carefully, and you wince at the loss. The emptiness that follows. The mess he left behind. He walks to your bathroom and grabs the towel to wipe you up. Gentle, quiet. Too quiet.

Then he sits back on the edge of the bed, hunched over, palms pressed against his knees. Naked. Broad shoulders rising and falling like he’s holding back something worse than breath. You watch his back. The scars. The tattoo you don’t recognize.

So much time has passed. And yet, for a second, it was like none of it had.

“...Fuck,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You feel your heart nosedive. “Yeah,” you say, softly. “I know.”

You shift under the covers, tugging the sheets around your bare chest like they could somehow protect you from him—from this feeling that’s clawing its way up your throat. He runs a hand through his hair, messy and sweat-damp, and doesn’t look at you.

“I thought I was over it,” he mumbles. “Over you.”

Your chest tightens. You sit up slowly, legs tucked beneath you, every inch of your skin screaming with sensitivity—from the sex, from the truth.

“Katsuki.”

He finally turns his head. Just slightly. His eyes meet yours—red-rimmed, tired, and… afraid. You’ve never seen that look on him before.

You swallow. “What do we do now?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares. And for a moment, you think he’s going to get up. Get dressed. Walk out.

But instead—He says, voice barely above a whisper:

“…I don’t wanna leave.”

Your breath catches.

“Then don’t,” you whisper back.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

I think this could have more drama in it, but I'm trying to spare my heart and my readers (╥﹏╥)

check out my other works here!: MHA MASTERLIST

[romanofftherealest]

Bearer Of The Seed

Summary: Natasha Romanoff was a complex and dangerous woman, unpredictable, impulsive and arrogant—those are the only things you know about her. So the thought of being connected to her through a child was unsettling, to say the least. Yet you knew, as soon as the words of the scripted vows you loathed to say forcefully fell from your lips, there was no turning back.

Pairings: Targaryen Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Tags | Warnings: +18 HOUSE OF THE DRAGON AU, AMAB!Natasha, Targayen!Natasha, top!Natasha, bottom!r, smut, angst, forced marriage, Natasha plots to make r pregnant while r plots to deceive Natasha, lots of chasing, dubcon, breeding kink, rough sex, bleeding, creampie, fingering, overstimulation & squirting (r receiving)

Author's Note: Scheduled repost

⧗

"Father, smith, warrior. Mother, maiden, crone, stranger…"

The words felt like acid on your tongue. Each one stinging you as they leave your lips. You loathed having to say them. You loathed having to agree. This wasn't some love match. It was the voice of a prisoner accepting their fate.

You force yourself to keep your eyes on Natasha, refusing to blink despite the tears forming. You will not cry. Not in her presence. You will not give her that satisfaction. So you try your best to stand tall, to be defiant. Though it's hard when you feel so completely defeated as you said the final words that will seal you both forever.

"I am yours...and you are mine. From this day...until the end of my days."

The last word was hardly out of your mouth when Natasha took a step forward and captured your lips with hers. Natasha's grip on your hips tightens as she pulls you firmly against her. Her lips are rough and insistent as they move against yours. You can feel the tension and desire coursing through her as she claims your mouth in a possessive, greedy kiss.

With what seems like great effort, Natasha breaks the kiss. She takes a step back and you notice a sly smirk slowly appear on his face as she watches you try to catch your breath and you so badly wanted to wipe that on her face. Clearly, she was enjoying the effect she had on you, but you will not make this easy for her.

You will make sure to play this game on your hands, not hers.

⧗

"Heirs…"

Hearing your now family bring up the subject of heirs, made you feel a lump form in your throat. It was something you'd tried to avoid thinking about, but you knew it was a reality you would have to face.

Natasha didn't even flinch. She seems confident and unbothered, like she has no concerns in that regard. She responds without missing a beat.

"Oh, we'll have heirs. Plenty of them, in fact."

Natasha's grip on your hands tightens slightly, you force a tight-lipped smile on your face as you struggle to appear calm.

"I will make sure that our marriage bed will not lack heat. We'll have as many children as the Gods see fit to bless us with." She added with such confidence.

You knew that the celebration was coming to an end and you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the noise and the crowd—by her. The air felt hot and stifling. Without saying a word, you excused yourself but as you stood Natasha didn't let go of your hand. So you eyed her intently—authoritatively and she immediately released your hand, you didn't miss the flicker of hesitation and fear in her eyes. Her usual confident and authoritative demeanor seemed to be gone for a moment, revealing just the slightest crack in her armor.

As you walked, a small smirk tugged your lips, it gave you a sense of satisfaction, knowing that you had the power to affect her in that way. For a brief moment, you felt like you were in control, that you had some bargaining power in this situation.

Of course you do, you will play this game right on your palm, right?

You stepped into the cool night air of the corridors outside, you tried not to let your emotions get the best of you as you thought about the fact that your family had been saved, you realized just how high the cost was. Natasha had saved you from ruin, but the price was steep. You were now the payment, a pawn in a larger game of power and politics. Knowing that you were traded like a piece of livestock in exchange for your family's safety, it was a bitter pill to swallow.

One of the foremost was the fact that you will need to carry the child of someone you didn't really know. Natasha Romanoff was a complex and dangerous woman, unpredictable, impulsive and arrogant—those are the only things you know about her. So the thought of being connected to her through a child was unsettling, to say the least. Yet you knew, as soon as the words of the scripted vows you loathed to say forcefully fell from your lips, there was no turning back.

It is inevitable or perhaps it can be avoided?

You were lost in your own thoughts, worrying about your future, when the maid servant's voice broke your train of thought.

"The celebration is over, your Grace. The King will be expecting you in her chambers."

Her words and the instructions were simple, but they sent a shiver of unease through you. But you wanted to test the waters, you wanted to test who among you holds such power to the both of you.

"Let her know that I am denying her request," you replied coldly as the night breeze.

"But your Gra—"

"Tell her that." you cut her off with a finality, "I'll be at my chambers, I'll retire early for tonight." You added, hinting that if she wished to prove the power she has on you, she will come and show you.

The night slipped away and you opted for the secret chambers that only and your maester, Wanda knew. Inside, you hoped to find solitude and respite from the pressures and chaos of the day. You stayed in the dimly lit room, the only light provided by a few flickering candles, as the night went on. You didn't know whether or not Natasha had come to your original chambers, expecting to find you there.

But you will make sure not surrender yourself, not without a fight.

⧗

Natasha was growing increasingly frustrated as she recounted different excuses from the maid servants every time she inquired about you. She hadn't seen you since the night of your wedding, and the more time passed the more suspicious she became.

Another maid servant entered her headquarters and she is for sure to deliver another excuse from you.

"The Queen is not feeling well, your Grace." The maid servant stood before the King, her hands clasped in front of her nervously as she delivered her message.

"What happened? What does the maester say the issue is?" The suspicion that she had in mind is now gone and is replaced by a deep concern for you.

"Well, you Gr—"

"I will go and check on my wife."

"I fear the Queen doesn't want anyone in her chambe—"

"I'm not anyone, I am her King. I am her wife."

Without another word of excuse, she rose from her seat and stalked out of the room. The King wasted no time making her way through the halls of the Keep, her steps were loud as she walked towards your chambers.

The moment Natasha stepped into the chambers, her eyes immediately fell upon your pale form lying in the bed. She was by your side in an instant, her hand reaching out to touch your forehead—and she could feel the heat radiating from you.

"Gods, you're burning up," she muttered, as she took in your sickly appearance. Natasha's eyes darted to the maester as she confirmed that you would be fine in time, and that you had been examined already. "And what is the cause of her sickness?" she questioned, her gaze returning to you.

Wanda cleared her throat, as she darted her eyes on your sleeping form. She breathed, shutting her eyes before she explained the cause of your illness.

"It appears the Queen has fallen ill due to stress and exhaustion," she said with a shaky voice, as she watched Natasha softly caress your body. "And it would be best for her to be left alone for a few days, allowing her body to rest and recover," she added, finally eyeing the King.

"Days?" Natasha repeated as if she didn't hear it clearly.

"Yes…"

Natasha let out a heavy sigh, her mind conflicted. On one hand, she wanted to keep you in her sight and she wanted you to be okay now so she could spend the nights with you fulfilling the obligations of making a long line of heirs. On the other, she knew the maester was likely right about your need for solitude and rest.

"Rest and heal, my sweet. And I will make sure to make up for the night we missed," she said in a soft and gentle tone, only for you to hear as you continued to lie there, your eyes closed in what appeared to be a deep and restful sleep.

"I'll have you full of my seed in no time."

She caressed your face for the last time gently before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

As she withdrew, she turned to the Wanda who was standing just outside the doorway of your chamber.

"Do everything you can to ensure that she is well soon," she instructed.

"Yes, your Grace."

As soon as Natasha left your chambers, you slowly and stealthily got up from the bed where you had been feigning sleep. Your body trembled slightly as you inhaled deep breaths, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You were grateful that your plan had worked, and that Natasha had believed your act of being sick.

Wanda, your trusted maester and ally in your plan, looked at you with a sigh as you got up from the bed.

"I told you hot water and a cloth would do the trick," she said, referring to the method she suggested to fake your elevated temperature.

"I'll have you full of my seed in no time."

"My Grace, are you alright? Are you really sick now? You look pale."

You snapped back to the present, your mind still replaying Natasha's words from earlier when she spoke to you while you were pretending to be in a deep slumber.

"I'm fine," you assured Wanda, your voice a little shaky. "Just a bit…tired, that's all."

Tired of all this.

"Well, I shall leave you alone then, my Grace."

Wanda has been the first person you became close with, and she has been nothing but supportive to cover up for you and your plans. You even heard her lie for you not since a while ago and that was not even a part of your plan. But when the King asked about your condition—your fake condition, she still did with no hesitation.

"Thank you, Wanda."

⧗

It had been several days since Natasha's visit, and you had successfully managed to avoid her so far due to your pretense of being sick. Now, you were stepping out into the gardens, seeking a change of scenery and some fresh air pretending to be sick and staying in bed is making you really sick now.

The gardens were a lovely sight, the sun shining brightly and the flowers in full bloom. You strolled along the pathways, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

As you were walking in the garden, relishing the tranquil surroundings, your eyes caught a glimpse of something or rather, someone—in the distance. It was Natasha, standing next to Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm.

Her gaze was fixated on you and you could tell that she was surprised to see you out and about, considering the fact that you were supposed to be unwell. And now, she is making her way over to you.

Your instincts kicked in immediately, and your first thought was to run. Without hesitation, you darted through the gardens, your heart racing as you navigated the twisting and turning paths of the maze.

As you ran, adrenaline pumped through your veins, and you quickened your pace, determined to elude her as long as possible. You were dressed in a gown made of flowing silk, the fabric soft and lightweight against your skin. The hem of the dress brushed against the grass as you ran, occasionally catching on the leaves of the maze bushes. You sprinted through the maze, dodging and weaving between the high walls of greenery. As you continued running through the maze, your heart rate spiked ever higher when you caught a glimpse of Natasha through the gaps in the leaves.

Seeing her so close, so determined to find you, sent another jolt of adrenaline through your body, the fight-or-flight response kicking into high gear.

Although you were aware that she would eventually catch you, you refused to let her have an easy victory. You steeled yourself, determined to play this game in your own hands.

The twists and turns of the maze became your playground. Every time you thought she was closing in, you would change direction, taking unexpected forks that would put some distance between you again.

As you sprinted through the maze, looking back in the direction you last saw Natasha, a sudden body slammed in front of you. The force knocked you off balance, catching you off guard.

A pair of hands locked around your arms, effectively trapping you, preventing any further escape.

"Are you running away from me?"

Natasha's intense gaze was met with your fearful ones, your heart raced and your words came out in a slight stutter. "Y-your Grace…" you started to say, but your mind was too preoccupied with the situation to form a coherent response. You gulped as you looked away, and then replied with a shaky voice. "No, your Grace," you said, your eyes still fixed on the soil where you were standing. Despite your denial, there was undeniable fear in your voice.

"I was expecting that you're still in your chambers, resting. Wanda told me you're still sick."

"I wanted to go out, g-get some fresh air…"

"You should've come to me so I will go out with you."

"I…" you hesitated for a moment, wanting to be careful on how you're going to say the next words, "I wanted to have some time alone, y-your Grace."

Her grip on your arms relaxed slightly as she heard your response. "I haven't had a night alone with you since our wedding, Y/N," she said, she sounded a bit disappointed that made you hitch your breath. "Look at me." She commanded, leaving no room for disobedience. And you slowly did, as your gazes met, her eyes softened with a little fire of an intense desire, and her proximity to you made your heart race even faster.

In a swift and dominating move, Natasha closed the remaining distance between you and claimed your lips in a searing kiss. Natasha sensed your attempts to resist so she deepened the kiss, her tongue demanding entry, as her hands on your arms pulled you even closer to her.

Your resistance was a futile battle and you finally surrendered to her but you fought not to moan as her tongue explored the cavern of your mouth, leaving you breathless and vulnerable. As Natasha moved her attention towards your neck, her lips and tongue trailing along the sensitive skin, you tilted your head back, submitting to her control.

Her lips left your neck as she leaned towards your ear, her words a low, seductive whisper.

"I shall be expecting to see you in my chambers tonight."

⧗

The evening had arrived, and Natasha made her way to her chamber, fully expecting to find you there—in her bed in all your glory. However, as she entered the room, her eyes scanned the space, but you were nowhere to be seen. Her initial confusion quickly turned into seething anger as she realized you didn't follow her command.

She wasted no time and stormed through the corridors, her patience wearing thin. It has been far too long, and she is determined to have you, one way or another. Her strides were purposeful and filled with seething anger, her mind set on one mission.

To find you and bring you to her bed.

As soon as she stepped into your chambers, her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. She approached the figure lying in the bed, she leaned closer to get a better look of you, and when she dipped her knee to the soft bed, the figure suddenly moved, emitting a piercing scream. Startled, Natasha let out a gasp, quickly realizing it wasn't you but your maid servant.

"Y-your Grace!" The maid servant rushed out apologetically as she immediately threw the thick covers out her body and stood.

"Where is Y/N? Why are you in the Queen's bed?!" Natasha demanded.

"Queen Y/N noticed I-I wasn't feeling well and…well, I am fine but-but the Queen insisted that I am not fine," the maid servant's hands flew in different direction as she tried to explain herself, "and she told me…she insisted that I should rest, right here, in her bed. And she left." The maid servant scrambled, the words coming out in a rush from her lips not wanting to receive the seething anger of the King.

"Forgive me, your Grace…please."

The maid servant's continuous apologies grew quieter as Natasha's attention shifted. Her gaze moved towards the window, where she spotted a figure dashing towards the garden maze. She instantly recognized it was you, and a sly smile tugged at her lips. Ignoring the maid servant, Natasha stepped towards the window of your chambers.

Once again, you found yourself racing through the labyrinthine maze, your breath coming in short gasps as you desperately sought an escape. The twists and turns of the paths seemed to taunt you, creating a confusing web to ensnare you. Fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, your mind focused on one goal and that is to survive the night without having to spend it on the King's bed.

Natasha's voice echoed through the night, "Making a maid servant sleep in your own bed, just to fool me?"

Despite the gasp that escaped your lips at the sound of Natasha's seething voice, you refused to let it slow you down. Your legs propelled you forward, your bare feet pounding against the cool grass as you continued your race through the maze. There was no time for looking back, only the need to elude her pursuit.

"You were never ill, Y/N!"

As you ran through the maze, the tears of fear started to well up in your eyes, causing you to shut them tightly shut. The emotions coursing through you were overwhelming—fear, defiance, and the weight of the situation hitting you all at once. Yet, amidst it all, a small part of you stubbornly held onto the hope that you could somehow escape Natasha.

Just as you rounded a corner in the maze, a strong body suddenly locked onto you, arms encircling you like a vise grip. Caught off guard, you let out a gasp in surprise, struggling against the strong hold. The realization that Natasha had finally caught you struck you like a bolt of lightning.

"I knew you heard me that time…I never lied when I said I will make sure you're full of my seed."

In a swift and effortless motion, Natasha scooped you up and threw you in her shoulders, her strong grip on your thighs unyielding as she carried you to her chambers. You tried to resist, squirming and fighting against her, but her strength was undeniable. Despite your attempts to break free, it was clear that you had no chance of escape.

The game is no longer in your hands. It never was.

The guards stationed nearby stood at their positions, their eyes averted from the scene. They could only watch as Natasha carried you flailing in her arms, your screams piercing the air. Fear for their own lives kept them in place, knowing full well that they could have their heads off if they bothered to look in your direction.

"Lock the doors!" she barked, her tone leaving no room for questions. The guards obeyed, swiftly securing the chamber doors, sealing you and Natasha inside. Without a moment of hesitation, she hurled you onto her bed, the force of her throw causing you to bounce slightly upon the plush mattress.

"Strip," she commanded in a low voice that made you shiver in fear, "Remove every piece of clothing you wear. I want to see my wife before me in all her naked glory. Do not forget to remove any trinkets or tokens you may be wearing."

Your hands were shaking when you let your dress slip to the floor, revealing your vulnerable form, your body betrays you with gooseflesh. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling over and cascading down your cheeks.

Natasha watched, sitting at the bed as you stripped the last piece of clothing out of your body.

Her cold, green orbs leisurely take in every inch of your bare flesh. They linger on the fullness of your breasts, the pebbled peaks begging for her touch. Her gaze trails down to the small, dark mole at the side of your breast, a unique birthmark that she commits to memory. Her eyes continue their languid descent, taking in the slight roundness of your belly soon to be full of her seed, the flare of your hips, and the soft curls at the juncture of your thighs. She studies the glistening evidence of your fear and humiliation, the pink folds of your pussy already swollen and slick.

The shame of your nakedness burns through you like a physical touch, amplified by the fact that Natasha remains fully clothed. Her silken robes and velvet cloak seem to mock your naked form just reminds you of the game that is now holding place in her hands.

A cruel smile plays on Natasha's lips as she sees the shame and fear in your eyes. She rises once more, her tall form towering over you. Her hands go to the sash at her waist, undoing it with deliberate slowness.

The silk slithers to the floor, pooling around her feet. She begins to slowly unlace her leather breeches, her gaze locked with yours. As the garment falls away, revealing her hardened cock, you can't help but gulp, your eyes wide with trepidation.

She stepped closer to you, caressing your cheek. You didn't know why but you leaned in to her touch as she wiped the tears off your face. She looked at your glossy eyes before she leaned forward, her lips pressing against yours in a soft, yet commanding kiss. Your lips part instinctively, allowing her to sweep her tongue inside, claiming your mouth as hers.

"Open wider," she demands, breaking the kiss to gaze down at you. She tilts your head back further, forcing your mouth open wider. She kisses you again, this time her tongue probing deeper, exploring the warmth of your mouth. She sucks on your bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth and biting down gently.

Your breath hitches, a soft whimper escaping your throat as her kiss becomes more intense. Her hands tangled in your hair and you can't help but moan softly, the sound muffled against her lips.

Natasha broke the kiss and sees the raw innocence in your eyes, the moisture making them glisten like jewels. Your lips are swollen and parted, a thin string of saliva stretching between them, quivering as you suck in ragged breaths. Her gaze darkens with lust and satisfaction.

"My bed has been lacking...heat," she murmurs, her voice low and gravelly. She reaches out, wiping the saliva from your chin with her thumb. "And you, my sweet, are going to warm it tonight."

You took a step backwards and tilt your head to the side to avoid her touch.

"You make it difficult," she says, her voice tight with frustration, "to fulfill the one duty that should be simple. I have conquered cities, bent knees to mine, tamed dragons. And yet, you make it hard for me to plant my seed in your womb."

"Am I just a bearer of your offspring?" you pinched your brows together, finally eyeing the King as the tears cascaded down your face.

"Yes," she replied bluntly, undressing herself, "in this, you are." As her clothing falls away, revealing her breasts and her tanned, muscular body, she meets your gaze squarely. "But know this, my sweet, you are not just any bearer."

"You are my Queen—my own wife who dared to deceive and defy me," she says as she steps forward, her eyes roaming over your body hungrily. "And when I have won, when you carry my child, you will be the mother of my heir."

"And perhaps," she says, her voice dropping to a near whisper as she leans over you, "when this is done, when my line is secured, you will be something more." Her gaze holds yours captive. "But for tonight, you are simply the woman I must breed."

Your heart shatters in your chest as she speaks those words. The cold, hard truth of her intent cuts deep, each word a knife twisting in your soul. You are not her beloved, her equal, but a tool, a vessel to bear her child and you knew it from the beginning.

Without you carrying her offspring, you are nothing.

Natasha then grabs you roughly, flipping you around and throwing you onto the bed. She climbs over you, positioning herself behind your ass.

With a sudden, brutal motion, she thrusts herself inside you, ignoring your cries of pain as she tears through your resisting body. She groans in satisfaction, her hands gripping your hips as she begins to rut into you with merciless force, her dragon's strength overpowering any objections you might have.

"You are mine now," she growls, her breath hot against your ear. "No more defiance, no more resistance. You will bear my child, as is your purpose." Each word is punctuated by a hard thrust, her hips slamming against your ass cheek with brutal intensity.

She pulls out of you suddenly, her thick cock glistening with your virgin blood. Natasha flips you over, pushing your hips in the bed. Her body pressed heavily against yours as she positioned herself between your legs. Without warning, she slams back into you, her dragon-sized cock splitting you open.

You're screaming now, your voice echoing off the walls as she fucks you with brutal, animalistic intensity making your face contort in pleasure mixed with pain.

She moves to silence your screams and releases your mouth long enough to trail her lips down your body, pausing to suckle at each breast roughly, her teeth scraping against your sensitive nipples.

"You are so tight around me, Y/N," she groans, her voice low and possessive. "Your body was made just for my pleasure. Your virgin hole is so snug, clasping around me like a glove. You were made to be filled by me."

Her hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, allowing her to bury herself deeper. As she grinds her hips against yours, she leaned down and your hands immediately clawed at her back, your fingernails digging into her skin.

Her muscled back flexes under your desperate, clawing hands. You feel each ridge of muscle, the hard strength of her. Despite the pain she's causing, despite the brutal taking, your body responds to her, your core clenching around her cock as you feel her powerful body move against yours.

"Y-your…Grace…" you called out for her, mouth open as she tore you apart. You held her neck and the silver locks of her hair, your legs crossed at her waist.

"You're my Queen." She growled in your ear.

"Yes, your Grace!" You cried out in pleasure.

"Then you will take what I give you, you will be painted with my seed and soon enough you'll bear my heir."

Her words made your pussy clench even tighter around her massive cock. She feels it, her thrusts becoming even more powerful as she drives her seed deep into your womb.

She straightens up, her hands gripping your hips as she slams into you one final time. Her body stiffens, her head thrown back in a silent roar as she finds her release. She grinds her hips against yours, ensuring every drop is deep inside you. Then, she pulls out of you slowly, her eyes locked onto your well-stretched opening. She watches as her seed begins to leak out mixing with your virgin blood, a possessive growl rumbling in her chest. Without hesitation, she pushes the escaping seed back inside with her slender fingers.

"My seed stays inside you," she continues to push her fingers inside you, scooping up the white and red liquid, forcing it back into your walls, making sure it's as deep inside you as possible. She repeats this process several times, her fingers pumping in and out of you as she ensures her claim is secure.

The sensation of her fingers pushing into you, combined with the gentle throbbing from her earlier pumps, becomes too much to bear. You can feel yourself growing more and more sensitive, the line between pleasure and pain blurring. You moan, your voice barely a whisper.

"Your Grace...it's too much…"

She ignores your plea, her voice dark as she murmurs, "It's Natasha for you, my sweet." Her fingers continue to push into your overstimulated hole, the motion causing you to convulse around her.

"Natasha…" you stammer, her name tumbling from your lips like a prayer as the intense sensation consumes you. Her name on your lips, filled with such raw emotion, makes her own stomach flutter.

You convulse violently, your body shaking uncontrollably as a gush of liquid spurts out from between your thighs. Natasha muffles her approval against your neck, her voice thick with satisfaction as she feels the evidence of your spend.

"Say it again," she demands, her fingers continuing to pump into you as the aftershocks wrack your body. "Say my name like that again, Y/N." Her own control is slipping, your words affecting Natasha more than she'd like to admit. You whimper, your voice hoarse.

"N-Natasha...Natasha...only...only you…" Each word is punctuated by a sharp breath as your body continues to spasm around her fingers. She lets out a low groan, her head dropping to your shoulder as she listens to you beg for her alone.

"You're so good for me," she praises, her voice rough with desire. She withdraws her fingers from your dripping pussy, bringing them to her mouth to clean them with a hungry suckle. Her eyes never leaving yours as she does so, drinking in the sight of her Queen overcome with pleasure.

"From now on, you will sleep in this same bed as mine so I can ensure that you remain well-bred every night."

[no-144444]

miami blues- o.piastri

꩜summary: for some reason he took lando's advice, it doesn't go horribly... kinda

꩜pairing: oscar piastri x ex! single mom! fem! reader

[08.43, 8th of May, Miami] 

“Hey umm,” he sighed, feeling every bit as awkward as he was being. “I was wondering if you’re in Miami yet?”

“Yeah. We just got here. Settling into the hotel. How are you?” you asked, your voice calm but he could tell something was off.

“All good. Okay umm,” he swiped a hand down his face as he tried to muster up the courage to ask yet another impossible question. “Is there any way I could see you guys tonight? If you’re free? And how are you?” he hit himself in the head, embarrassment running through his veins.

The other side of the line was quiet for a moment. “Yeah sure. I’ll drop Mia by your room if you’d like?” you offered.

He paused for a moment. Where would you be? “Yeah of course, that’d be perfect, thank you,” he nodded. “You’re welcome to come too, obviously,” he added, hoping he wasn’t being so blatant about his want for you to be there. 

Again, you paused. “That’s alright. I think you two know each other well enough and I trust you with her, it could be your first time on your own,” the smile you plastered on your face was fake, and so was that cheery tone of your voice. “It’d be nice to have a night off as well, if you don’t mind.” 

“Of course!” he rushed out, wanting to let you have a good night. “No, that’s perfect, thank you.” 

“Great,” you huffed out. “I’ll drop her over at like… 7ish and pick her up at 10?”

He smiled despite the weirdness between the two of you. He had Mia for the night, something to look forward to. “That’s perfect, thanks Y/n.”

You hung up without another word. 

Oscar was nervous to have Mia on his own. She was a brilliant kid and he loved her more than anything in the world, but it was strange, usually he could look at you if he didn’t know what to do. Those parenting books he’d been devouring weren’t doing much either, but they had some good tips and games, so he wasn’t livid. The knock on the door sent the butterflies in his stomach flying all over the place and he literally had to take a deep breath before opening the door. It reminded him of the first time you two went out. You were going to the cinema. You had agreed to go out with him by some grace of God, and he knew he wasn’t messing it up. He had been so nervous, but you just seemed calm, like this was normal. Like it wasn’t the single greatest moment of his life. 

“Hey,” he smiled, immediately taking Mia out of your arms. “Hey baby,” he smiled at her as she hugged him tight, clinging onto his shirt. “How are you?” 

“Good,” she nodded, hiding in his neck. “Excited.”

“Me too,” he chuckled, taking her bag off of you as you watched the two of them with fond eyes. 

“Hey,” you smiled, watching as your daughter clung to him. It pulled on your heartstrings sometimes. You’d always known Oscar wanted to be a dad, and you felt almost… guilty for keeping Mia from him for so many years. Obviously, it wasn’t exactly your choice, considering he was the one who ended it and blocked you, but still, it didn't feel right that he didn’t get to see her when she was so small. “Can I come in?” 

“Of course,” he nodded, making room for you to walk in. His hotel room was the size of an apartment, and you stared. You almost forgot he was an F1 driver sometimes, especially when he was holding Mia like that and looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world. “How are you?” he asked as he placed Mia down on the couch, starting to unpack the dinner he’d ordered. Of course he already knew her favourite foods, of course. 

“I’m good,” you nodded, arms crossed as you looked around. “Tired, but good,” 

“How was the flight?” he asked. “Sorry I couldn’t fly with you two.” 

“Not a problem,” you smiled. “And thank you for the upgrades, you really didn’t have to do that.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” he shrugged.

A flat smile made its way onto your face. “We both know that’s not true.” 

He looked up, trying to decode whatever that meant, but you were already preoccupied with looking at the view. The Miami seafront. You could see the track from up there. It was beautiful. The low lights of the hotel room gave the entire space a nice glow, you liked it. “So what are you going to do with your night off?” he asked, serving Mia up her dinner. 

You debated on telling him, then decided against it. “Just relaxing. Maybe watch a movie.” 

“Nice,” he nodded. “Well, I’m good here if you’re good to go. Don’t want you to miss your movie,’ he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. You could see that he wanted you to stay. It tore a hole in your heart. 

“Yeah, see you later,” you smiled flatly before heading over to Mia and giving her a kiss, then out the door. He felt that hole in his own chest ache. God, why was this so fucking confusing?

“Dad,” Mia was grinning, he could hear it. It pulled at his heart in the best way when she called him dad, and maybe all this heartache was worth it for her.

Mark was usually right about things. Going to McLaren. Putting a number two driver clause in. Doing physics for his A levels. 

“They’re no good for you.” 

That was complete and utter bollocks. Oscar’s jaw tensed. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Maybe he’d been bragging about Mia and how he got to have her for the night, and yes, he knew it was getting repetitive for his dad and Mark, but holy shit. Who says that? That’s fucked. His dad stared between the two of them, watching it play out as the air filled with tension.

Mark scoffed. “I mean, you broke up with her for a fucking reason Osc, get your head out of family life and back into the car mate” 

“I happen to enjoy putting my head into my family life, mate,” he spat. “And it’s not like it’s having any effect on the track, and if it has, it’s been good.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “You’re 24 and have a 4 year old. Your ex-girlfriend didn’t tell you about her. Maybe you’re not meant to be in her life,” he shrugged. 

“Well, I am in her life, and that’s what’s happening. If you don’t like that, you can keep it to yourself mate,” he scoffed. “And I broke up with her because you told me to. You said I needed to put my head down and work. Well I have worked. I’ve worked so fucking hard and maybe Mia and Y/n are the nice part of my life that really aren’t worth sacrificing right now, considering everyone here has gone insane,” he gestured to the table, his blood boiling. 

“Osc, I think what Mark is trying to say is that you have a real chance this year. We just don’t want you to throw it away for her. And we are also aware of the timing and how… opportune it is,” Chris added, and Oscar saw red. 

“Dad, you out of everyone should be able to see the fact that Y/n is anything but completely honest. She told me everything, she told me I didn’t have to help with Mia in any way, this was my choice. This was what I wanted. Have you guys gone insane?” he questioned, really feeling like he was the only sane human in the room. “She hasn’t asked for child support, she didn’t ask me to move to London, she didn’t ask me to take Mia. I love Mia, and yeah, I still love Y/n. Is that complicated? Sure. Is it ideal? Not really. But it’s the truth. I care about them, and they’re part of my life whether you like that or not.” 

Mark and Chris watched as he walked away, more fired up than they’d even seen him. 

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[sweetlovepascal]

off the table

pairings joel miller x reader

summary joel discovers your hidden vibrator and turns his birthday celebration into a teasing, intimate game with a heated quickie in the bathroom.

content warnings 18+ nsfw, mature themes and language, explicit sexual content, established relationship, unspecified agegap, consensual intimacy, mild exhibitionism, teasing, sexual teasing with a vibrator, power play, and strong sexual tension. f receiving. kinda dom!joel.

masterlist

you hadn’t expected joel to find the damn thing. it had been stuffed deep in your drawer under socks and old shirts, only taken out in the rare times when joel was gone on patrol longer than usual.

but fate had other plans.

he came home three days ago with it in his hand, amusement written all over his smug face.

"what's this?" he asked, voice low, like he already knew. which he did, of course.

you had frozen, heat rushing up your neck.

you tried, grabbing for it, but he held it out of reach like he was holding a winning card.

joel cocked his head, that lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

“seems like my business if you’re usin’ it when i ain’t around.”

he didn’t scold you. didn’t tease you much either. not until the next day, when he leaned in close at breakfast, breath warm by your ear, and whispered.

"think i figured out what i want for my birthday.”

you blinked at him, fork halfway to your mouth.

“you want… the vibrator?”

he grinned. “i want you usin’ it.”

before you could reply, he added, “at the party.”

you choked on your coffee.

joel’s birthday party was not small.

everyone in jackson turned up. it was the kind of thing maria insisted on throwing. a big communal dinner in the mess hall with even a makeshift banner that said "happy birthday, joel!"

you’d hoped joel would forget. you’d hoped he was just teasing you, that his little fantasy had stayed a fantasy.

but that morning, while you were getting dressed, he tossed the vibrator onto the bed.

he didn’t say a word. just raised an eyebrow, then turned back to the mirror to button up his shirt like he hadn’t just thrown a live grenade onto the bed.

you stared at it, your stomach flipping. “you’re serious?”

joel’s reflection caught yours in the mirror. “dead serious.”

he crossed the room, slow and steady, brushing his hand along your lower back as he passed. his voice was rough silk against your neck.

“it’s my birthday,” he murmured, lips barely grazing your skin.

your breath caught. heat bloomed low in your belly.

and then he just walked out like he hadn’t just upended your entire day with a single sentence.

you and joel arrived at the mess hall together, just as the sun was dipping behind the mountains, casting jackson in golden light.

he walked with his hand resting at the small of your back, warm and steady, like a casual claim.

when you stepped inside, the room lit up with cheers and laughter.

“happy birthday, old man!” someone called out seth, probably.

joel just shook his head with a quiet chuckle, but didn’t let go of you. ellie was the first to rush up, cupcake already half-eaten in her hand and frosting on her cheek.

“told you they’d make a banner,” she said proudly, jabbing a thumb toward the crooked letters above the buffet table. “i did the ‘j.’”

joel snorted. “figured. it’s backwards.”

“shut up,” she laughed, then threw her arms around him.

"happiest birthday, joel."

tommy and maria were next tommy clapping joel on the shoulder.

“happy birthday, big bro. lookin' handsome has always.”

joel shrugged. “guess i do what i can.”

more greetings followed slaps on the back and jokes about his age.

joel took it all with his usual gruff charm, a rare softness in his eyes, especially when he glanced your way.

finally, the two of you made it to your seats him at the head of the long table, you just to his left. he pulled out your chair and you sat like nothing was different.

like you hadn’t just slipped something small and sinful between your thighs twenty minutes ago.

joel clocked you immediately. his gaze dropped to your hips for a second too long, then met your eyes with a spark of something dark and knowing.

you smiled at ellie when she handed you a cupcake. your hands were steady. your face, calm.

then joel clicked the remote under the table.

the first buzz was low and it almost didn’t register. you sat straighter, legs clenching together on instinct.

joel didn’t look at you. just lifted his glass and clinked it with tommy’s.

the second buzz made your breath hitch.

you turned to glare at him. he finally looked at you smirking, eyes full of heat and mouthed, “happy birthday to me.”

you were going to kill him.

right after you survived the night.

just as you reached for your water, tommy stood up at the far end of the table and clinked his glass loudly with a spoon.

tommy reached over to the cake sitting on the side table and lit the candles one by one, their tiny flames flickering eagerly. he handed the glowing cake to you with a mischievous grin.

“alright, everybody!” tommy shouted over the chatter. “you know what time it is! stand up, birthday boy!”

joel sighed and stood. as soon as he did, the rest of the room followed with some chairs scraping back and some where already standing, chatting, or dancing.

you held the cake close to joel, the warm candlelight flickering softly against his face.

and just as everyone stood…

click.

the vibrator jumped to its highest setting.

the jolt tore through you, sudden and sharp, stealing the breath from your lungs. your thighs clamped together. your hand gripped the thin cardboard from the cake like it could anchor you to this world.

“happy birthday to you…”

joel didn’t sing. he stood with a hand on his back, thumb on the button. like he wasn’t currently unraveling you from the inside out.

“happy birthday to you…”

you blinked rapidly, trying to remember how to breathe. every pulse of the vibrator ricocheted through your spine, low and hot and unrelenting. you kept your face neutral. mostly.

thank god the lights are out. nobody can see your flushed cheeks or how your hands are trembling as the vibrator keeps buzzing beneath the table.

“happy birthday dear joooeel…”

“feelin’ good, darlin’?”

“i’m going to end you.” you whispered back, smiling with murderous intent.

“happy birthday to you!”

the mess hall burst into applause and cheers. joel gave a modest wave, soaked in attention and affection. you sat perfectly still, pretending your legs weren’t trembling under the table.

the room grew quiet as you brought the cake closer to joel’s face again, the candle flames dancing in his eyes.

you leaned in, your voice low and sweet. “make a wish, baby.”

joel’s gaze locked onto yours, intense and warm. he inhaled slowly and blew out the candles, his eyes never leaving yours.

the lights snapped back on, and everyone cheered louder than before.

he sat down beside you and mercifully turned the vibrator back down to low.

you didn’t dare look at him.

not when you knew that smug, satisfied smirk would be waiting. not when the night was only just getting started.

you were trying to act normal.

which was a hell of a task, considering the steady buzz between your thighs was anything but.

you shifted in your seat again, pretending to reach for your water as your body tensed. across the table, joel didn’t so much as glance at you.

his focus was on his drink, on tommy’s story, on acting like he wasn’t orchestrating your slow descent into madness with the remote hidden.

ellie, of course, noticed.

“you okay?” she asked, blinking at you. “you look kinda weird.”

you stiffened. “weird?”

she squinted. “yeah. you look like… i don’t know. like you ran here.”

you forced a smile, even as a fresh wave of sensation curled heat through your belly. “it’s warm in here.”

ellie kept staring. “you’re all red. like your face is actually red. is that a fever? or a stroke?”

joel finally spoke, voice calm and smooth as honey. “she’s fine, ellie.”

you threw him a glance. he didn’t meet your eye just sipped his drink like he hadn’t just cranked the vibrator up a notch mid-conversation.

ellie, still frowning, “if she throws up, i’m not cleaning it.”

you choked on a laugh and stood quickly. “i’m just gonna—bathroom. be right back.”

you made it out of the room with your dignity barely intact.

the hall hallway was quiet, lit by soft overhead bulbs. you stumbled into the bathroom and shut the door, bracing your hands on the sink.

your breath came fast, your thighs trembling. the vibrator was still going, relentless now, and your pulse was fluttering somewhere in your throat.

you didn’t even have time to pull yourself together before the door clicked quietly open behind you.

you turned sharply already knowing who it was.

joel.

he slipped in and shut the door behind him, locking it with a soft snick. “you ran off awful quick.”

your eyes narrowed. “you’re enjoying this way too much.”

he crossed the short space between you slowly, his gaze dropping once to your hips before dragging up to meet yours.

“can you blame me? you sittin’ there all flushed and squirmy, pretendin’ nothin’s wrong…” his voice was low, teasing. “you got no idea what that’s doin’ to me.”

you opened your mouth to respond, but then his hand was on your waist, his mouth already pressing against yours.

the kiss was hungry, a little rough his fingers curling into your side, thumb grazing under the hem of your shirt. you gasped into it, his beard scraping your skin as he moved to mouth along your jaw.

“think i earned this,” he murmured. “it is my birthday.”

you huffed a breath, half a laugh and half a moan. “you’re such a bastard.”

joel grinned, his hand trailing lower. “maybe. but you’re the one who put that pretty little thing in for me.”

you whimpered when his fingers pressed against you light, teasing, making you arch toward him without thinking.

“i could turn it off,” he offered, kissing down your neck.

you nodded quickly.

“but where’s the fun in that?”

you groaned, gripping the edge of the sink as his mouth found that spot just under your ear.

“you better be glad this door locks,” you breathed.

he chuckled. “don’t need long, sweetheart.”

you didn’t need long either.

you didn’t get a chance to fully brace yourself before joel spun you around and backed you into the counter, hands already bunching your skirt up around your hips.

“i—joel—someone might hear—”

“then be quiet for me,” he murmured, already sinking to his knees.

your breath caught.

“joel—”

his hands gripped the backs of your thighs, dragging them apart just enough before hooking one of your legs over his shoulder.

the angle pressed your hips against the edge of the counter, kept you wide and open for him.

he looked up at you from under his lashes, beard already brushing your inner thigh.

“you came in here so wound up,” he rasped, voice thick. “i’m just helpin’ you relax.”

then he licked you.

long and slow, from base to clit, groaning like he was getting a taste of something he’d been craving all night.

you gasped, one hand shooting to the edge of the sink to steady yourself, the other fisting in his hair.

“fuck, joel—”

he didn’t answer. his mouth warm and wet and relentless, tongue circling your clit before sucking it between his lips.

no teasing now, no mercy. you could hear the obscene sound of it all.

wet and slick and filthy and it only made your knees wobble harder.

you bit your wrist to stay quiet, your other hand anchoring in his hair as he devoured you like a man possessed.

your orgasm hit fast. mouth parting in a desperate gasp as your thighs clamped down around his head. joel held you through it, growling into your cunt like he wanted every last drop.

only when you started to twitch did he finally pull back, licking his lips like he hadn’t just ruined you in under a minute.

“still with me?” he rasped, standing and grabbing your hips.

you stared at him, dazed, panting. “you’re a menace.”

he smirked. “and i ain’t even started yet.”

then he turned you around, bent you over the sink.

“hold on,” joel said, voice low, dark, almost reverent as he went and removed the vibrator from inside you with no shame.

then he slid into you in one deep, slick thrust.

you gasped, clutching the edge of the counter as he bottomed out.

he didn’t give you time to adjust. just started moving, hips snapping into yours in short, brutal strokes that had you biting your fist to stay quiet.

“fuck,” he hissed behind you. “still so tight—goddamn.”

you could barely breathe, the sound of your bodies echoing in the small space.

joel kept one hand braced on your hip, the other sliding under your shirt, palming your breast through your bra. his mouth pressed hot against your shoulder, teeth scraping skin before sucking hard, leaving a mark only you’d see later in the mirror.

“this what you wanted?” he growled against your skin. “walkin’ around with that little thing buzzin’ in you, gettin’ me all riled up?”

you moaned and he laughed, low and breathless, thrusts getting rougher.

“all fuckin’ night,” he gritted. “you had me hard the second you walked in that hall. knew exactly what you were doin’.”

“joel—” you gasped, voice cracking.

“i know, baby. i know.” his fingers slid between your thighs again, rubbing your clit in fast, tight circles.

“come again for me. c’mon. you can do that for me, can’t you? one more.”

you didn’t last five seconds.

your orgasm tore through you, legs buckling, cry muffled in your own sleeve as joel kept fucking you through it—deep and punishing and so fucking good. you clenched around him so hard he nearly lost it right then.

“shit—gonna come—” joel choked, pulling your hips back to meet every sharp thrust.

then he groaned, burying himself deep as he spilled into you.

the room went still. just breathing. just the heavy beat of your heart pounding in your ears.

joel stayed close, one hand rubbing your back, the other smoothing down your thigh as you both steadied yourselves.

“happy birthday,” you breathed, voice hoarse, cheeks flushed.

joel kissed your shoulder, still catching his breath. “best fuckin’ gift i ever got.”

you laughed softly, fixing your clothes while he grabbed paper towels, cleaning you up with more tenderness than you deserved after what you’d just done in a public bathroom.

he kissed your temple before unlocking the door.

ellie was standing right outside, mid-step, holding a cupcake.

she froze.

you froze.

joel didn’t freeze.

ellie blinked, looked between the two of you.

“okay…”

she cleared her throat. “i was just… uh… looking for you guys. it’s time to open presents.”

her eyes narrowed slightly. you could feel her putting it together. and then just as quickly, she turned on her heel, muttering something that sounded like, “nope. not my business.”

joel slipped an arm around your waist like he hadn’t just fucked you up against a bathroom sink. “let’s go, sweetheart.”

you followed on shaky legs, cheeks blazing.

as you reached the table, joel bent close and whispered something againsts your ear.

“after i unwrap these presents, i’m gonna unwrap you at home.”

back at the table, no one seemed to notice your slightly-too-fast heartbeat or joel’s smug silence.

“long line,” you muttered to no one in particular, grabbing your drink just to have something to do with your hands.

joel just smirked, settled back in his seat and under the table, his hand found your thigh.

and squeezed.

you nearly knocked your glass over.

then, his eyes dipped to your collarbone. his smile grew.

“didn’t cover that up too well,” he murmured, voice low enough only you could hear. “right there.”

his fingers brushed your neck to point it out.

your hand flew to your throat and you yanked your hair over the mark.

joel chuckled softly, leaning in just enough for his words to curl like smoke against your skin.

“gonna leave another one to match.”

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton

Chapter 6 Part 2

materpost (no edting/concrit pls. did you know 8+ moderate-sever migraines in a month are too many? ㄟ( ▔, ▔ )ㄏ)

“Oh, you’re a real freak of nature, aren’t ya?” Constantine said as he looked Danny over.

Danny grinned at Constantine like a wolf grins before it rips something’s throat out. “Yep.”

The weird thing was, Constantine actually looked a little afraid. “They know what you are?”

“Okay,” Dick said as he moved between the two. He wasn’t afraid to push either of them back a little. “Yes, we know that Danny is a half ghost, but that’s not actually the important part here.”

Constantine blinked at Dick. “Say what, bruv?”

“I know, we had it backwards at first ourselves,” Dick said. “But if everyone will just sit down for a moment, we can talk through it.”

Constantine looked like he was actually going to argue before he took the chair next to Zatanna with an exaggerated huff. Bruce, who’d of course been standing off to the side, swept over to a seat himself. It was the signal that everyone else needed to sit. Dick took the head of the table with Danny nervously to one side and Wally flanking the other.

“As the Justice League knows, our Flash disappeared while on a solo investigative mission a little over three months ago. Initial investigations by both the Titans and the Justice League found nothing. During that time, the Flash managed to make contact with Danny Fenton,” Dick explained with a little motion towards Danny.

Danny rubbed at the back of his neck. “As Nightwing said, I’m Danny Fenton. For a few years as a teen, I was a local hero known as Phantom in Amity Park. The usual lab accident origin story gave me my powers. I’m half ghost. It’s along story and not actually important. Mostly these days I’m just a psychopomp; sometimes I get visited by ghosts and I make sure they move on.

“I assume that’s what Flash was once he showed up, but he also felt wrong right away. He also caused seizures if he touched me, which wasn’t great. That had me reaching out to Miss Wilhelmina Aleshire. She’s a local oracle and friend I made through the pyschopomp mess. After trying a tea she gave me, I was able to make clearer contact with Flash. He gave me a message to take to Titan Tower.”

“And caused a heart attack,” Wally said, guilt heavy in his voice.

Danny just shrugged. “Not the first time my heart’s stopped. Anyways, once I was awake I checked myself out of the hospital, came here with the phrase, and got in contact with the Titans.”

“They called me in,” Barry picked up, “and we worked on using Danny’s connection as an anchor to isolate Flash’s reading. Main players were Danny, Raven, and myself. Obviously once we got Flash to the point that we could see and hear him, he helped also.”

“Obviously, not dead,” Wally said. “I’m trapped in the Speed Force. Unfortunately, my existing and using Danny as an anchor is continuing to cause health issues.”

“Which is fine,” Danny said with a little glare, “but when we got the signal as clear as it seemed to get, meant rethinking things. It’s when I realized that I’m not able to see Flash and serving as his anchor because of being a psychopomp. He’s right, he isn’t dead. One of my… mentors in the Infinite Realms is a being known currently as Clockwork. He’s basically a god of time. We call them Ancients there. He’s been pretty determined to take me under his wing. There might be some powers at play, but I’m certain that the bigger reason that I’m able to be Flash’s anchor is because I have a medallion of time as part of my being.”

“Wow, more of a freak than I thought,” Constantine said, squinting at Danny.

“Says the man with mince meat for a soul,” Danny snapped back.

“I can slap him for you, if you want,” Zatanna offered calmly.

Danny smiled sweetly at her. “Would you?”

“Ow!” Constantine squawked as Zatanna backhanded him right in the sternum. He rubbed at the spot with a pout. “We’re teammates, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m your teammate, but when you’re being an idiot I’m not on your side,” she said with a viciously pleasant smile.

“Anyways,” Dick interrupted. “Because we want to make sure that Danny survives—or at least revives from this process—we called in you all. Flash and Batman to continue to help us refine the signal isolation machine, Constantine and Zatanna to try and safeguard things from a magical perspective, and MM to keep a track on things mentally. Obviously our Flash, Cyborg, and Raven will continue to help. We have a medical team standing by. It’s my opinion that we should expect Danny’s heart to stop.”

“Nightwing… might be right about that. I seem to have an annoying habit of it,” Danny said with a little shrug.

“He’s also annoyingly unconcerned about it,” Wally added with a sigh.

“What exactly is the plan?” Bruce asked, finally speaking.

Dick gave him a nod. “We will set up in the reinforced training room and the connecting observation room. Danny will transform into Phantom and remove the medallion. Flash will make contact with both it and Phantom. We believe that while he’s doing so, his signal will become stable enough for us to isolate and lock into this timeline. Luckily, that’s science that we’ve done before for different reasons.”

“We have to expect a large amount of electrical discharge from that,” Wally added. “Which won’t effect me, but will Danny.”

“Lessened because I’ll be Phantom, but none of me gets along with electricity much. It’s likely to snap me back into this form which is where the heart stopping might occur,” Danny said.

“So, as soon as Flash is locked, we need everything can to protect Danny from the effects and then medical in there the second the secondary effects have died down,” Dick stressed. “Anything that we can plan in to help Danny, we need to plan in. We’re not making an exchange here. I expect both of them to be just as alive at the end of this as they should be. Understood?”

With a course of agreement, the teams split up into magical, medical, and science to brainstorm. There would need to be a lot of cross talk, and some like Raven and MM would jump between a few groups, but it was a place to start. Dick would play leader. At least it was a roll he was well used to.

Bruce slowed his steps to hang back from the science group and walk with Dick. “You care about him.”

“Danny? Yeah. Wally developed quite a crush on him, which I get. He’s kind, smart, funny—lots of things. We’re going to go on some dates once Wally’s solid enough to do so,” Dick said. “I don’t know if I’m gone like Wally, I’ve been more focused on getting him back, but that’s what dating is for, right?”

Bruce hummed in agreement. “But?”

Dick sighed. “But he has to survive, and I’m worried about that. There’s also some things that the Titans or the JL need to look into about ghosts. Danny has been through some shit and that’s with him only alluding to it as he tried to brush it off. I don’t know, I just… Wally has been isolated for months. Danny has anxiety about being a lab rat and for this to work we have to make him into one. I’m worried about both of them coming out of this aright.”

“You’ll be there for them,” Bruce said.

“Of course, but will I be enough?”

Bruce was silent for a bit, watching the group in front of them. “Maybe not. But the Titans are there too. As are the Wests. As your family is.”

Dick couldn’t help but smile a little. “Yeah, you going to explain polyamory to Damian?”

“I’ll make Tim do it.”

Dick snorted. “You just want to make Tim realize his own bullshit.”

Bruce just smiled that Bat smile of his and increased his pace to catch up with the rest of the group.

[suliigwp]

Hello! Could you do the “I’m defending you because you’re my woman” with Charles and Lewis as well? I just read the max, lando and Carlos versions of it and I’m in love hehe

MY WOMAN

---Charles Leclerc , Carlos Sainz, Lando Norris, Max Verstappen, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton

SULI: Hi anon, thank you for your request! Alright, lasto three and we're moving on because I'm loosing ideas to make them different lmao. This will be the Charles version, lewis will be posted separately <3

Warnings: Men.

It started with a shift. A quiet one. One that felt too familiar.

She’d been invited to present at a cross-team coordination meeting. It wasn’t flashy. Not a press conference, not some public announcement. But it mattered to her.

She’d spent nights perfecting the pitch, scribbling ideas and corrections in the margins of her notebook. Charles had watched her pace the hotel room in socks, chewing her pen, murmuring strategy points under her breath. She wanted this one to be sharp—efficient, clean, undeniable.

So when she walked into the meeting that morning—file in hand, hair neat, eyes focused—she wasn’t expecting to feel so… dismissed.

They smiled, of course. That fake, managerial kind of smile that never quite reached the eyes. They nodded at her introduction. Waited for her to begin.

And then, slowly, they dismantled her confidence—not directly, not even cruelly. Just enough interruptions. Just enough condescending jokes masked as banter. One man suggested she “simplify the jargon for everyone’s sake.” Another tilted his head and said, “Maybe passion’s clouding your objectivity.”

And every time she tried to steer the discussion back to the actual points—the facts, the structure—they steered it away. Her research was “ambitious.” Her projections “optimistic.” Her tone “a bit intense.”

Charles hadn’t been supposed to attend. But he’d shown up halfway through and slipped in quietly, standing near the back wall. She hadn’t even noticed at first. But he saw everything. Every narrowed glance. Every barely concealed smirk. Every time she swallowed a rebuttal to keep the conversation civil.

He didn’t say a word then. Didn’t make a scene.

But when they walked out of that room, and she gave him a thin, practiced smile and said, “Well, that could’ve gone worse,” he just took her hand and brought her back to the car without a word.

...

She didn’t think about it again until hours later, when her email pinged.

> Meeting Follow-Up Notes – Updated

Proposal has been submitted for reevaluation. Clarification provided by Mr. Charles Leclerc regarding external presentation alignment and conduct expectations moving forward.

She blinked. Read it again.

She read it three times.

She turned around from the hotel desk chair, slow and steady. Charles was lying on the bed, scrolling through something, his reading glasses slipping down slightly.

“Charles?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

She tried to sound casual. “Did you… talk to someone after the meeting?”

He looked up. Paused.

“Yes.”

She blinked. “What do you mean ‘yes’?”

“I had a conversation.”

“With who?”

He set his phone down, sat up slowly. “With the ones who spoke over you.”

Her heartbeat kicked up. “Why?”

“Because they were out of line.”

“Charles…”

“I wasn’t going to let it go.”

She stood up. “You weren’t even supposed to be there.”

“I’m glad I was.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can fight my own battles.”

He looked at her. Calm. Centered. But something sharper brewing beneath the surface—like water just before the boil.

“I know you can.”

“Then why step in?”

Charles stood. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t move suddenly. But he was in front of her now, close enough for her to smell the cedar in his cologne.

“Because it wasn’t just a battle. It was disrespect. And you don’t deserve that.”

She looked up at him, frustration tightening her chest. “You don’t get to walk into rooms and fix things behind my back.”

“I wasn’t fixing it,” he said. His voice was soft but firm, each word deliberate. “I was reminding them who they were talking to.”

She exhaled hard. “I don’t need you to defend me because I’m a woman.”

There was a beat of silence.

Charles tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing with something darker. Not anger. Just clarity.

“I didn’t defend you because you’re a woman.”

He stepped closer.

“I defended you because you’re my woman.”

The room went quiet. She blinked.

“And if you think I’m going to watch people minimize you,” he said, voice lowering, “treat you like you’re less, speak to you like you’re temporary—then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

Her jaw clenched.

“You didn’t even tell me.”

“Because I knew you’d be mad.”

“You were right.”

He smiled faintly, brushing his thumb against the back of her hand.

“I’d do it again.”

She didn’t speak. She couldn’t. She hated how warm his words made her feel in the middle of her frustration.

Charles’s expression softened. He leaned in, forehead to hers, and when he spoke next, it was a murmur.

“You’re strong enough to handle everything. But that doesn’t mean you should have to.”

She swallowed.

“I know you want to do it alone. I just want to be beside you when you do.”

And just like that, the fire in her chest cooled. Not extinguished—just redirected. Grounded.

She leaned into him slowly. Let his arms pull her in. Let the silence settle around them