#something that no doubt brings him no end of frustration

[inkchwe]

so high school | 𝖑𝖍𝖘

୨୧ pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 6.8k ୨୧ genre: fluff, smut ୨୧ tags: basketballplayer!heesung, nerd!reader, tutor!au, high school au, oral (f + m receiving), penetration (all characters are of age!), light choking ୨୧ synopsis: You and your boyfriend are complete opposites on paper—you, the girl hidden inside a book, and Heeseung, the star of the basketball team—but it feels so right every time you’re together.

Heeseung at the free-throw line, certain he will make the basket and win the championship, turns to look at you in the stands. The sounds of his coach, taunts from the opposing team, encouragement of his teammates, and commotion of the final game of the season all fade into the background. To him, all that matters besides the ball in his hands is you.

You, amongst the others in the crowd with their hearts in their mouths, have no fears for your boyfriend. The star player who’s going to make history has never given you doubts before in his talents. All you can do is smile, incredibly proud and incredulous at the thought that he is all yours and nobody else’s.

It’s almost unimaginable how the two of you found each other, coming from completely different worlds. But like all stories, similar to the ones you’ve read since childhood, the story of you and Heeseung has a clear beginning…

AUGUST

“Do you ever stop to—I don’t know—not read?” Jungwon asks, jotting down notes in his notebook.

You giggle and flip the page. “It’s the last book on Choi’s summer reading list. Besides,” you retort, looking directly at your best friend, “how else would I be able to read and still remember what you just said to me if I didn’t practice?”

“Fuck off.” You lightly knock his shoulder with yours.

Even though it was still very early in the school year, you still had a lot to concentrate  on with the month coming to an end. Like the first novel Mrs. Choi selected on her extensive reading list. You planned to discuss it with the members of the school’s book club, your notes already tucked in your backpack for today’s Friday meeting.

Now, sitting with Jungwon in the hallway as you eat your lunch, your focus is solely on finishing the last fifty pages of the last book in the list Mrs. Choi created. Jungwon closes his notebook and gets up from his spot next to you. “Alright, I gotta head to Chem.  I’ll see you after school!” With a wink, he runs down the hallway and disappears down the corner.

Who you don’t expect to pop up next to disturb the sudden quiet of the surrounding area is Lee Heeseung, star shooting guard for the school’s basketball team. You never spoke to him before, but his reputation and family’s legacy preceded him. His brother was the shooting guard for the team years ago, breaking numerous records before he graduated. Now, Heeseung’s definitely filling his brother’s shoes and then some.

As a person, however, you know nothing about the boy at all. This year, though, you shared the same English class with Mrs. Choi. She cared little for his extracurriculars or persona around campus; what mattered to her was the effort of her students and the quality of the classwork.

Heeseung passes you by on his way towards his destination, not sparing a glance. You sit attentively as he knocks on Mrs. Choi’s classroom door.

She answers after a moment, a somber smile on her lips. “What can I do for you, Mr. Lee?”

He clears his throat and asks her, “You saw my message and I—“

“I am aware, Mr. Lee. My response still stands. Is there something else you need?” Mrs. Choi sees you out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t acknowledge your snooping.

“I will do anything to correct my last assignment. Please,” Heeseung begs.

“Mr. Lee, the cutoff for submissions was last week. I’m sorry, but your grade is final.” She sighs and looks at her watch.

“There’s nothing I can do to bring it up before the first game?” Heeseung asks, his voice growing thin from his frustration. He’s not rude, but clearly disappointed he isn’t getting his way with his big eyes and pleading words.

“How about this? I’ll tell Coach Sung you’re working on a paired project to make up the grade.”

“Perfect.” Heeseung breathes a sigh of relief before he takes in the rest of her sentence. “Wait, who’s my partner?”

Mrs. Choi extends her arm out to point in your direction. Immediately, you want to tuck yourself in your book and hide. You did not intend for your interest in their conversation to put you right in the middle of it, and now you wish you hadn’t feigned curiosity at all.

“She’s one of my best students, so you’re in great hands.” She turns her head so both you and Heeseung can hear her. “I’ll send both of you the information for the project later today.”

You didn’t notice Heeseung had kept his focus on you until you broke your stare-off with Mrs. Choi. Her lips are upturned in a secret smirk when you turn your attention to him.

Heeseung isn’t bad to look at, the definition of his muscles peeking out of his shirt in multiple places and his brown hair falling into his face. Each piece of his physical being represents the epitome of a Greek god’s form. But the fact neither of you had ever interacted up to this point is what scares you more than his intimidatingly good looks.

When Mrs. Choi gently closes the door, Heeseung awkwardly walks over to your position, towering over you. Ironically, his presence physically embodies your feelings towards him, this stranger now being shoved into your life.

“I’m Heeseung.”

You give him a close-lipped smile and extend your hand out to him, your name leaving your lips immediately. Displaying fake confidence, you hope he can’t tell how terrified you are.

His eyes brighten when his hand touches yours. You stand up, hand still in his, and the feeling of his palm against yours causes you to fumble your next words. “S-so I guess I should give you my number. I mean so once we get the assignment—“

Heeseung smirks. “Usually girls flirt a little more before asking for my number.”

You scoff and tuck your book closer. “I was offering to give you mine, actually. For educational purposes.”

The noise of his laughter fills the small corridor. “Right.”

You roll your eyes, suddenly feeling annoyance creeping under your skin. “Well, if it’s that hard to swap information, you can find me after school in the library.” You walk away, but Heeseung follows quickly behind.

“I have practice once the last bell rings.”

You look at him with serious eyes, not bothering to stop your stride towards the stairs. “Tell Coach you can’t make it.”

“Are you nuts?” Heeseung says, eyes wide.

You smirk. “You have to get your grade up to play, right?”

You watch the clock in the library with scrutiny. Members of the book club have been gone for half an hour, but you chose to stay behind. School let out an hour ago, and yet you’re still holding out hope Heeseung will come. But every minute that goes by proves you have to face facts: you’re now forced to collaborate with a stereotypical jock.

Mr. Kim, the head librarian, puts the disorganized books on the shelves as you tap your pencil on the table. “Waiting for someone? You don’t usually stick around this late,” Mr. Kim says with a smile.

You grin back, the sentiment not reaching your eyes. “You could say that.”

After another ten minutes of silence, you give up. You begin packing up your belongings, shaking your head and mumbling to yourself the entire time. Curse your interest in the guy and his lack of care for his academics. No wonder his grade was in the tank already. What was the point of athletics if he didn’t have other prospects to fall back on?

Just as you’re walking out of the library, Heeseung runs into you. Sweat’s dripping from his forehead and his breaths are labored. Clearly, he chose basketball over your project. You want to punch him for putting you both in this position.

“I swear I was going to blow off practice,” Heeseung says, but he can see your doubt in his words on your face.

“Sure. How about this? Figure out how to do the project on your own.” You press your body into his to push him out of your way. He follows in suit and rubs the spot you shoved, pretending to be wounded.

It only fuels your ire. You’ve only spoken to the jerk twice and you’re already tired of him treating every word you say and feeling you have like a joke. “Is failing that amusing to you?”

Heeseung’s expression immediately goes cold. “I’m not failing.”

“Sure. So Choi’s just doing this to torture you.”

He weighs his response in his mind before answering. “I may not be perfect, but Choi is really hard on grading.”

“That first assignment was just about what your future looks like after high school.” You push your backpack over your arm. “Excuse her for thinking you had plans outside of throwing a ball around a field.”

That laugh of his may just be the end of your life. He chuckles hard and puts a hand out to stop you. “First of all, that’s football.” He tries to make you look at him directly, but you refuse, too angry to give into what he wants. 

He continues anyway. “Second, basketball is my life. Past, present, future, okay? Without it, I don’t even know where I’d be.”

His voice is sincere, more honest than it’s been before. Regardless, your understanding and disappointment is evident. “Don’t you think that that’s the problem?”

“It hasn’t been one before. Suddenly I say it out loud and it’s an issue?” Heeseung’s voice raises a decibel, clearly agitated and back to his cold exterior.

If he wants to fight about this, you’re game.

“No,” you say, matching his vocal level. “The issue is that your focus is solely on basketball when there’s more important things in life than a dumbass court and sweaty guys trying to make touchdowns.” 

“You’re mixing up your sports analogies, angel.” Heeseung steps closer, testing your boundaries. Your chest heaves up and down, your breath labored. You may just slap him if he gets closer.

“You know what I mean.”

“Are you going to help me or not?” A fraction of his expression slips. His eyes challenge you in both irritation and anxiety. The bravado’s merely a mask for the fear that he’ll lose the one thing he wants the most in this world. And did you have it in you to be the reason he couldn’t have it?

You sigh and rub your palm across your forehead. “Tomorrow, meet me at the marketside pier. 8 AM. Take it or leave it.”

He releases a humorless chuckle. “You’re not gonna make this easy are you?”

“Not on your life.”

Heeseung is there at one of the pier’s wooden picnic tables with his materials sprawled out when you arrive at 7:45. You weren’t expecting for him to be there on time, much less earlier than you. The sun reflects off of his hair, turning the brown curls almost orange. Like the first time you saw him, you can’t help but be reminded that he is painstakingly attractive.

You give him a shy smile and put your backpack down next to you.

“I can tell you’re surprised,” Heeseung says with a small smile.

“A bit, yeah.” You unzip your bag to grab your English textbook. “I thought on the weekends you typically do…’fitness stuff.’” He laughs at your air quotes.

“Well, to be honest, I wake up at 6 AM every morning for drills with my dad.”

Your eyes go wide. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Like you said, my sole focus is on that damn ball,” Heeseung says, opening his own textbook. “But I want to change that.”

“So you can keep playing,” you remind him, teasing the poor guy.

“Half true,” Heeseung says. “But I shouldn’t have left you hanging, yesterday.”

You nod. “I appreciate your apology.” You grab a pencil from your bag, pushing on the eraser until the lead pops up. “And I shouldn’t have been so judgmental. You have to be good at stuff besides basketball, even if it’s not studying.”

“Hey! I’m doing well in all my other classes, thank you very much.” You both share a minute of laughter. “But, to be honest, I do like to sing.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, Troy Bolton.”

“For real! One day, I’ll take you to karaoke. I won’t make fun of you if you can’t keep up with me.”

“Okay, we’ll see.” You direct his focus back on to the page. “Now, onto Shakespeare.”

SEPTEMBER

Although Heeseung took his sweet, laborious time to translate and understand Shakespeare’s old English, the project went off without a hitch. Mrs. Choi was even surprised herself, in disbelief you pulled such an expansive and well-thought analysis out of the quintessential jock.

Now, it seemed the best next step to keep Heeseung on the right track was to sit him right next to you. Your initial partnership continued to benefit him in both his success in English and focus on academics, possibly for the first time in his high school career.

Better than that, he may have found a new friend in you that he wouldn’t have had otherwise.

By the end of one Tuesday class, Heeseung asks you to have lunch with him and his friends, a request that makes your previous seating buddy in English, Yujin, freak out.

Both her and Jungwon corner you on your way out when you tell them the news.

“No fucking way,” she whispers excitedly, slapping you on the back with vigor.

“That hurt,” you moan.

“Are you prepared?” Jungwon asks, smirking.

“Prepared for what?”

“The lion’s den, dude! You’re gonna be with not just his douche friends, but also the cheerleaders, other sports players…be prepared for the worst,” Jungwon grumbles.

“Oh shut up, Won!” Yujin threatens to hit him too, but he retracts. “Have fun on your pseudo first date.”

“It’s not a date!”

By the time lunch comes around, you hold yours with shaky hands, searching the lunch courtyard for the jock’s table. You usually sat with Jungwon or Yujin in the hallway of the English department to eat. Now, you’re a small fish in a big pond, waiting to be eaten alive.

Was it, in fact, a date, like your friends hypothesized? Did you have to try and impress Heeseung more than normal? Did you want Heeseung to take you on a date, real or fake, to begin with?

"Hey!"

Heeseung waves you over with a confident but over-exaggerated arm, flapping it wildly so you notice. He didn't need to do that, though; you could pick out his voice in any crowd.

You walk over with a smile and sit down, feeling small next to the strangers you had not met until this moment. The basketball team's not unwelcome, but they are awkward at your sudden presence at their usual lunch table, even if Heeseung made it known beforehand that you would be hanging out with them to eat.

He says your name and introduces you to his friends. "And that's Sunghoon, Jeongsong, and Jaeyun." You recognize the last two, Jay and Jake. Jake, the strikingly blonde one, has Chemistry with you this year. He smiles and tips his soda can at you in acknowledgement.

"Hee was telling us you’ve been saving him this term in English. Choi can be a pain in the ass, am I right?" Sunghoon and Jeongsong share a laugh, but you bristle at the comment.

"Not really," you say. "Choi sponsors my book club, so we have a good relationship. I think that's why she wanted me to whip Heeseung into shape in the first place." You elbow Heeseung in the side, and he grins in response.

"She's probably right."

"Book club kid, huh?" Jake asks. "Haven't been one of those since elementary school."

Jake's comments make the entire team laugh. Your cheeks turn pink and Heeseung takes a sip from his drink, his posture stiffening in the process.

"It's not a bad thing though," Jake interjects amidst their laughter. "Books are fun."

"A bit nerdy, though," Sunghoon comments.

A girl next to Sunghoon smacks him hard in the arm, but he just pokes his tongue at her.

Your anxiety spikes sitting there with all of these people, your gut feelings a reminder that they’re all a part of Heeseung’s world, not yours.

You clear your throat and stand up from the table. “I forgot to say, Hee, I have to do something for Choi anyway.” Heeseung’s face turns down at the corners. The only audible response you receive is from Jay and Sunghoon in the form of snickers.

”Run along, pet,” Sunghoon comments with a smirk.

You hope your eyes give the offense you won’t bother saying out loud. Fuck off, asshole.

When you make it to your usual lunch spot, Yujin and Jungwon are surprised to see you walking down the hallway.

”What happened?” Yujin asks.

”Exactly what Won said was going to happen,” you confess, sitting down in a criss-cross position beside her. “Now give me your chips.”

When the end of the day comes around, Heeseung catches you on your usual trek to the bus. “You’re forgiven, by the way.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What did I do?”

”You left me alone with my shithead teammates! I needed you there for backup, y’know.” He smirks and grabs your backpack from your shoulder to put around his arm. “I’m sorry about them. Sunghoon, mostly.”

”Can’t believe you’re friends with that guy,” you mumble.

”He’s the only one who I’m not friends with, truthfully. The others are cool. They’re just not used to new people.”

”I never would have guessed.”

Heeseung’s laugh is hearty, with a dazzling smile to match. You can almost forget the heap of embarrassment you felt earlier when you look at him like this, carefree and youthful.

“Anyway, let me give you a ride,” he offers, pointing to the senior parking lot. His car is freshly washed, its coat of paint identical to the school’s colors of blue with silver accents.

”What will your friends say?” you ask with a fake gasp.

”Fuck them. Besides, you’re also one of my friends. Now let’s go.” He takes your hand to walk in the direction of his car, not releasing your palm until you’re at his passenger side door.

As you give him directions, your mind goes back to the labels you had been running through in your mind all day. Were you Heeseung’s friend? Yes. Did you want to be more? Surely he didn’t just ask anyone to have lunch with him and his friends if he didn’t have other intentions, right? So, in that case, did yours match his?

A part of you wants to say yes, but the rational piece keeps you in check. It’s ridiculous to expect more than a friendship. How could you when it was so obvious your worlds were so far from each other, your friendship a simple fluke? You were grateful for his presence in your life, knowing without him it would be a bit darker, but would it last?

Yet here you were. Sitting happily in his car, hair blowing in the wind as his thumb grazes the outside of your hand, you try to enjoy all the time you do have together.

OCTOBER

”This is ridiculous!”

”Come on, just try it!”

”When did I ever say I was good at sports?” You groan, holding the ball in your hands with nervous fingers. The basketball court at your local park is occupied only by you and Heeseung, but it feels as though there’s a thousand people in the metal stands watching you, waiting for you to mess up.

”You said if I passed the last test you would let me show you how to make a free throw.” Heeseung has his hands in his pockets, his letterman jacket flapping in the autumn wind.

“If I suck at this, you’re never going to talk to me again. Just watch.” You try to dribble the ball across the court, but it falls between your legs before you can travel any further.

Heeseung puts his face behind his hand, clearly chuckling to himself. You scoff at him and the response you saw coming the second he put the ball in your hands. “See? I told you you would think I’m embarrassing!”

He raises his hands in defense. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just cute, that’s all.”

”’Cute’ is probably the nicest way you could say I’m embarrassing.” You kick the basketball in his direction. He catches it without any effort, his face still shaped in a state of enjoyment.

”I said cute because I meant cute, you dork.” He steps to the free-throw line and motions for you to join him. You do, grumbling and grunting the entire way.

”Now, you have to relax. The only way you have half a shot at making the basket is if you stop tensing up.” He hands you the ball again and steps behind you.

He puts his hands on your hips. his palms soft against your hoodie. You can practically feel the heat of his skin through the material of your clothing, and you hope he can’t tell how much your heartbeat has spiked from him being so close to you.

”Next thing is to bend your knees. They can’t be locked up.” You listen to his words, trying not to focus on how his body is making yours react. You may be imagining it, but even his voice sounds a bit breathless from the small distance between yourself and him.

His lips are ghosting over your ear when he says, ”Now shoot.”

You release the ball from your hands, hoping the angle of your throw and Heeseung’s directions will prove you’re partially competent. 

And sure enough, the basket makes it in a single whoosh. You turn in Heeseung’s grasp, releasing a happy cheer. “That was amazing!”

You feel the rush of the shot in your veins, but suddenly the only thing that makes your body hum in pleasure is the sudden crash of Heeseung’s lips against yours.

Unsure how to react, you stand there frozen in place as his mouth moves on its own accord. But slowly, surely, happily, you fall deeply into his embrace. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and feel the press of his tongue against your mouth, begging for entrance.

You comply, letting the feeling of him and the thrill of this private moment in both of your worlds fill you to the brim with quiet pleasure and happiness.

[LHS] Can we talk, please?

[LHS] Did I do something wrong??

[LHS] IDC if you don’t respond. I’ll keep texting until you say something…

[LHS] Don’t leave me hanging :(

You sigh and throw your phone to the other side of the bed, tucking your comforter closer to your chest. Deciding to stay home from school was probably not the best way to handle your problems, but just because you’re smart doesn’t mean you’re sensible all the time.

This weekend’s excursion with Heeseung was beautiful, no doubt. But the fears continued to creep in with little regard for how happy he made you that day or all the days that came before it. Would how he felt about you last any longer than his basketball season? Did he entertain this simply for the fact that it was entertainment and nothing more? 

The thoughts had been too much when you said goodbye to him on your doorstep with another hasty, giddy kiss and all the hours following it. Maybe you were self-sabotaging, but it was better to manage expectations now than be crushed in the aftermath.

When Yujin calls you during lunch, you have half a mind to ignore it. You answer anyway to avoid your friends thinking something drastic happened.

”Hello,” you mumble, the effects of your late morning nap hitting you.

”Dude, Heeseung’s on a tear today. He even asked Jungwon where you were, and I didn’t even think he knew the kid existed. What the hell happened on Saturday?”

Before you can respond, you hear the sound of your doorbell. “I gotta go. I’ll tell you later.” You hang up, hastily grabbing your fuzzy robe before running downstairs.

You don’t bother looking through the peephole to see who it is, but you curse yourself for not doing so when you’re confronted with Heeseung. He’s a sweaty and panting mess, but he doesn’t care for his appearance. His face morphs into relief when he sees you staring back at him.

”Thank God,” he says before stepping closer to you. He runs his hand over your forehead, frowning. “You’re not sick.”

You shake your head.

”So, you just ignore me all weekend and then don’t show up to school today?”

You sigh. “I didn’t know what to say when I saw you.”

He gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing. “So you chose not to see me at all? Was kissing me that terrible?

”No!” You run a frustrated hand through your hair, the spot in your hallway suddenly too cramped. You push him back outside and close the door behind you. “I don’t regret it at all. And I’d do it again if I could.”

Heeseung smirks at that, clearly happy with your response. “So, what’s the problem?”

”The problem is that when you get bored of me, things won’t go back to normal for me like they will for you, Hee. You may think this is a game but—“

Heeseung’s sudden laugh is marked with a bitterness. His eyes grow serious, so much so your words stop short because of his stone expression

”Do you think that little of me?”

Your body tenses at his words, unsure how to respond. You have never thought of him as lesser than once, not since getting to know him. But maybe only looking at your feelings regarding your relationship compromised his own in the process.

He steps closer, your faces an inch apart. “Two months ago, I didn’t realize how much my life was going to change because of you. All I thought about before was basketball. And now, you’re one of the only things outside of that damn game that matters to me. When I haven’t talked to you or seen you for too long it’s like there’s this rock in my gut that I can’t get rid of. I kissed you because I wanted to, not for fun or because it’s this momentary thing.

”So, if you still think I’m going to get bored of you in a few days or weeks or months, then you really aren’t as smart as I thought you were, angel. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Breathless would be too small of a word to describe how his speech affects you. You feel the same buzz of his kiss from a few days throughout your entire body from his words alone. It makes every worry and fear that has plagued you evaporate, replaced with his promises and all the reasons you should jump in headfirst without another thought.

So you do.

You kiss him hard, crashing into his lips and hoping all of the feelings he harbors reflect in the actions of your mouth. You hold onto him with your hands on his neck and the smoothness of your lips in a beautiful rhythm with each other.

Whatever happens next, you know there’s no turning back now.

NOVEMBER

“And Sim, our prime point-guard, passes to Lee. Lee has ten seconds to make another three pointer and win the game. Will he do it? Time to find out!” Kim Sunwoo screams into the microphone, broadcasting the highlights of the semi-final game to the many listeners not attending in-person.

Lucky for you, you have the perfect spot in the stands to watch Heeseung make the winning basket and lead the team to victory.

The crowd roars when your boyfriend secures the team’s spot in the championship game. His teammates lift him up above their heads and shoulders, chanting his name and holding him with all of their strength. Heeseung immediately searches the crowd for you, his excitement fueling his newfound focus.

When he does see you, clapping your hands and cheering with the rest of the bystanders, he kisses the inside of his palm and shoots it in your direction like he’s making another basket. Your heart squeezes at the gesture, but you only blush and wink.

Ever since that day on your doorstep, you can’t seem to separate yourself from him or the feelings he stirs up inside of you. The thought and reality of not seeing or hearing from him for too long immediately dampens your spirits, just like Heeseung described to you when he confessed. Jungwon calls you “lovesick fools” every time you both are in his presence, but it’s not that. The love you feel for your boyfriend is one that strengthens every sense, impulse, and desire. Without it and him, that’s when you feel the weakest. And every time Heeseung smiles at you or holds you close, you can tell he feels the same.

Whether your worlds were the exact same or as different as they possibly could be, you both made your own perfectly fit for just the two of you.

The outside world has to creep in every once in a while, though.

At the end of the night, Heeseung’s arm is wrapped perfectly around you as you walk. You discuss your shared plans for the night and subsequent weekend since your parents are away at a work conference. Heeseung stops short when he sees his father waiting at his car with crossed arms.

“Good job, Hee,” He says first and foremost. “Saw you lost a bit of steam in the third quarter, though. We’ll have to do some more conditioning before the final.”

And there it was. The judgment you saw so often in conversations between Heeseung and his father that made you ache for the boy you loved. As his father, he should’ve been proud to see his sons succeeding, one of them off and playing for a world-renowned team and the other on his way there. Instead, all they received was judgment. It wasn’t your place, but you couldn’t wait for the day Heeseung stood up to him.

“At least I made the winning basket, right?” Heeseung shrugs off the criticism with a laugh and holds you closer. “We have to go eat, so—“

“Of course.” His father moves out of your way. “Lovely to see you again, darling,” He says to you with a small smile as he opens the passenger door for you. You return his greeting, suddenly uncomfortable with how close he is.

On your drive to your house, you try to help Heeseung destress with a hand on his thigh. “Don’t let him get to you,” you say sadly.

He smiles and gives you a knowing stare. “I’ve been dealing with him my whole life. He doesn’t have that power anymore.” He takes your hand from his thigh to hold it tightly in his own palm. “Besides, I’m one step closer to the championship and I got my girl next to me. Nothing’s getting in the way of my good night.”

You set your backpacks down at the door when you step inside your house. Heeseung follows you to the kitchen. While you’re finding the flier with the number of your favorite takeout restaurant, Heeseung presses his lips to your neck. The trail of his kisses going from the back of your ear to the start of your collarbone makes you shiver.”

“Hee,” you warn him. “We won’t be able to eat if you keep distracting me.”

“Food is the second priority,” he responds, lips feathering your skin. “Right now, we need to celebrate the championship.”

“The championship is still three weeks away.”

“If we both know I’m going to win, what’s the point of delayed gratification?” He pulls the sleeve of your shirt down to expose the top of your shoulder, kissing that area too to make your body thrum with pleasure.

“Speaking of that…” You turn to face Heesung, pressing your back against the counter. “I guess we can celebrate something tonight besides your impending win.”

Heeseung raises an eyebrow.

“I got early acceptance to Sky.”

Heeseung’s eyes immediately light up at your announcement. He pulls you in by the waist and spins you around the tiny space between your kitchen island and the fridge.

When the topic of college came up, it was as good a time as any for the two of you to discuss your future plans with each other. As fate would have it, Heeseung planned to play for Sky University’s basketball team next year, and you were waiting on your official acceptance letter when you both started dating.

Now, Heeseung would have the two most important things to him in the next chapter of his life. The boy’s over the moon, as any other person would be.

Heeseung lifts you over his shoulder, immediately heading in the direction of the stairs to take you to your bedroom. He laughs off your mock protest.

He knows for certain he’s in love with you. It may not be the perfect time to say it, especially before he’s about to ravish you, but the perfect time will come when it feels right.

He doesn’t say it when he strips you bare for only his eyes as he kisses you senseless, shocked and grateful your body is for him and him alone to see and cherish. He doesn’t say it as you kiss every inch of his bare chest to send him into a rambling mess of praises and curses.

Somehow, stupidly, the words slip out when your mouth is wrapped around his cock, tongue flat against the underside of his tip as he feels the back of your throat against him.

“Fuck, I love you so much.”

The air stills, both your bodies going rigid at the sudden confession that has just left his lips. But, instead of running scared, you take your mouth off of him and stare deeply into his eyes, smiling wide. “What’d you say?”

Heeseung breathes out a sigh of relief, suddenly taking your face in his hands and kissing you deeply. “I love you. I’ve loved you since the second I saw you in that hallway. I just didn’t know it yet.”

You giggle and press another kiss to his lips. He sees a tear leave your eye, and he wipes it away gently with his thumb. “I love you, too, Heeseung.”

You fall back into a steady rhythm of kissing and touching, Heeseung’s hands roaming the skin of your stomach, the swell of your breasts, and the cleft between your thighs, making you moan.

“Let me show you how much I love you,” Heeseung whispers against your lips.

He lays you flat on your back, kissing what areas he hasn’t touched yet with his hands. He needs you to know, in every moment, he chooses you and will never stop choosing to be with you.

If he had to make the choice to either give up the game or you, he would choose the former in a heartbeat. His dad, his friends, and even fate may say it’s young love and you haven’t been in his life as long as basketball has, but they don’t see him the way you do.

Even if he doesn’t say it out loud, he knows he doesn’t have to. 

When Heeseung finally presses his lips to your clit, kissing the nub with adoration, your legs shake at the contact. You instantly run your fingers into his hair. “Fuck,” you curse, the word rarely slipping from your lips save for moments like these.

The first time you had been together, Heeseung didn’t know exactly how to touch you without being terrified it was too much. But now he knows all the ways to turn you into a beautiful mess.

He licks languidly across your center and through your folds, keeping the perfect pace for you to ride your hips against his mouth. He inserts a finger into your entrance after coating the digit in the arousal already pooling at your center. You, typically so put together, are ready to fall apart at the simple press of his mouth against you.

Heeseung knows he can get you off this way, without question. And most nights, he doesn’t mind when you’re the only one who receives pleasure. But tonight, you moan out a request that he can’t say no to.

“Heeseung, please. I want you inside me when I come.” He doesn’t have to be told what to do twice when it’s the best command he’s heard all night.

He takes your mouth in his, holding your jaw in his hand and slightly applying pressure to the side of your neck. A half-empty moan leaves your lips at the sudden contact. To him, the sounds that you make are their own form of poetry, better than anything you’ve read to him all year.

Heeseung quickly grabs a foil packet from your bedside drawer to put on himself, protection being the one thing you can’t forget in the midst of your desire for each other. Lining himself up with your entrance, he thinks you could not look more beautiful with your half-lidded eyes and eager hands grabbing onto his hips to finally push him inside of you.

When he does ease in, he swallows the curse prepared to leave your mouth with his lips. It’s an indescribable feeling, the stretch and pull of your walls taking him in completely. Although you’ve been together many times before this night, it’s still a novelty Heeseung does not take for granted.

He takes his time establishing a rhythm, loving the pants and whimpers you emit because of him and for him. He holds his hand on your throat, his thumb going into your mouth for you to wrap your lips around in a lewd manor.

“Ah, fuck,” you say as he snaps his hips, filling you to the hilt. “Just like that.”

He feels his orgasm in his gut, threading further up his body as he snaps his hips harder and faster, moving in and out at a faster pace than normal. You don’t mind, scratching lines down his back as you cling to him. You’re both reduced to a heap of I love you’s and satisfied sounds, and it could not be more perfect.

“Fuck, Hee, I’m coming,” you say in the form of a promise, one so precious he wants to hear it every day.

The flutter of your walls around him as you fall apart pushes him to his own end, releasing into the condom with a guttural moan. He kisses you deeply before separating from you, running to the bathroom to throw the remnants of your lovemaking into the toilet and clean himself up.

You hold your arms out to him, ready to have him back by your side. He grins and kisses the crown of your forehead.

“Think about all the nights we can do this next year,” Heeseung whispers into the dark.

“I can’t wait,” you respond, pressing a kiss to his sweaty chest. “I love you.”

He grins happily to himself, the words a thousand times more powerful leaving your mouth. “I love you, too, angel.”

With your body curled into his chest, your heartbeats matching in tempo, he thinks no amount of championship wins could compare to the love he’s found in you.

DECEMBER

The basketball feels light as air in Heeseung’s hands, incomparable to the feeling in his chest looking at you. His teammates can tell he’s staring directly at your position in the stands. They wonder how his mind is still so occupied by you, even amongst the sea of spectators waiting for him to either succeed or screw up

Little do they realize, you’re the exact reason he’s going to win the title.

As he looks in your direction, he takes the shot without second-guessing himself. He hears the faint gasps of some attendees and even his coach, but the following swish of the basket in the hoop tells Heeseung all he needs to hear. And all he needs to see is your beautiful, proud face as the gym explodes into cheers.

You’re the best and truest thing he has in this world. He knows he’s a champion, in both the traditional and figurative sense. With you by his side, he’ll always feel like the winner of every game he’ll ever play.

[walnutspi3]

A KISS FULL OF LIES. (Park Seonghwa)

(Part 2 of ?) College au! pairings - Park Seonghwa x fem!reader wc - 2.1k WARNING - Mention of drugs For the series masterlist, click here. Cliff hanger ending 😭🙏

Who knew that the once nonchalant Y/N would be pacing back and forth in the expanse of her diminutive room while biting her nails.

Who knew that the once not-so-known Y/N would be invited to a club by none other than the Park Seonghwa.

And that's exactly what has been getting on her nerves.

Having no idea where she got the confidence to say "I am going to the club" when she exactly knows that this is something that she might never do in her lifetime.

Or maybe she will? Well, who knows.

"God, why did I lie?!" She huffs in frustration as she plops down on the bed.

"Should I go or should I not?" She mumbles to herself as she stares at the thick ticket in her hand. The longer she stares at it, the more she has the urge to not go.

"Ugh it's Seonghwa we are talking about." She groans again and lies down in her bed, the crumbled ticket still in her hand.

"But if I didn't go it would be kind of...rude since he invited me himself but again this isn't such a 'me' thing." She argues with herself back and forth as she tries to validate herself for not wanting to go.

"But again it's Seonghwa...I doubt he would even care if I come or not."

She tosses and turns around in her bed as she tries to think it through.

"That's it! I am not going." She wheezes triumphantly.

~~~

The concerning smell of sweat and alcohol reeking within the walls of the club is truly insane, the blaring music and the piercing disco lights and whatnot truly makes the club look like a madhouse. As Seonghwa makes his way through the intoxicated crowd, his hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat he tries to find someone in the crowd.

As soon his eyes land on the far corner of the club, he sees Mingi crowded with a bunch of girls. Some sitting beside him, some on the floor by his feet and there is one of them sitting on his lap.

Seonghwa rolls his eyes at his friend/bandmate as he makes his way towards him.

Mingi who is now busy kissing the same girl sitting on his lap, notices Seonghwa and smirks.

"What's up brother? Want any of 'em" He wiggles his eyebrows and orders their manager around to bring him a blunt.

"You know what time it is." Seonghwa sighs as he motions the girls surrounding them to leave. Some of them whine while the others still linger around.

"We need to get going. We don't want you high when performing." He motions for Mingi to get up.

"Come on- You know I perform the best when high. One blunt is no biggie." Mingi shrugs at him.

Seonghwa sighs and takes a seat near him, "Make it one more then."

Mingi laughs heartedly at his senior. "Siyun, make it two!" he shouts over the music.

"San wouldn't be very pleased to know that you were kissing the girl he put a bet on." Seonghwa says as he leans back on his chair and stare at the neon-lit ceiling.

Mingi doubles over his laughter, "Her? Man, he can do so much better."

Siyun, their so-called manager comes with two blunts and a lighter.

"Make it quick, the show is about to start." Siyun says with a firm voice.

Mingi just rolls his eyes at him as he quickly lights his blunt and takes a long drag from it, "Ahh so refreshing~"

Seonghwa just sighs and takes his blunt, lighting it up in the process as he too takes a long drag from it. He massages his head a bit as if he is trying to ease some tension while looking into the crowd over and over again.

Mingi notices his odd behavior. Usually, Seonghwa would be one of the energetic ones in the group before beginning with the performances. But today seems peculiar, he is sighing a lot and staring into the crowd a lot as if...he is trying to look for someone.

"Hey, Hwa you alright?" his tone wavers a bit upon seeing his overwhelmed state.

Seonghwa looks at him for a moment and sighs, "Nothing...was just looking around."

Upon hearing this Mingi raises his eyebrows in an interest, "Oh?" he laughs. Mingi clearly knows that something is up but upon seeing Seonghwa's state he decides not to push it and sits silently.

Seonghwa takes another long drag and slowly releases the smoke through his mouth. The burning sensation in his throat feels a bit nice in this intimate atmosphere even when he knows that this will probably ruin his voice today for singing but at this point, he doesn't really care.

'Where is she?'

For some reason, this thought has been going around his mind constantly. He doesn't really know what got into him when he passed her the invitation to come here even when he knew that her not coming would be the ultimate fate.

But the thing that is almost tormenting him the most is that-

Why is it bothering him so much?

Sure, Y/N and him have known each other since the start of their college lives but their relationship has always been acquaintance-like. People who would pass smiles when they meet each other gazes and maybe even greet sometimes.

Nothing more and nothing less.

But for some reason, Seonghwa always felt himself staring at her presence longer than he normally should. For some reason, he has always felt a soothing aura whenever he was around her. For some reason, he has always felt drawn to her austere serene self.

But alas he never wants to admit it.

For some reason, he had a hope that Y/N would come and look at him perform and praise him but looks like it will just be his daydream.

For some reason, he feels that he has felt rejection for the first time.

And this sheer thought bothers him the most.

How can he, the Park Seonghwa be rejected.

He groans in irritation and takes in another long drag from his blunt.

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, he takes it out and sees Hongjoong calling him.

"Hello?"

"Do you want to get your arses kicked or something? Get in the backstage. Right now."

"Aye Aye captain." Seonghwa chuckles and cuts the call.

"Get your ass up, the cap is calling." Seonghwa motions for Mingi. He rolls his eyes in annoyance as he takes his last drag and stands up whilst fixing his skinny leather pants.

"Never wearing this shit again, makes my dick feel suffocated." He mumbles.

Seonghwa chuckles upon hearing his words and pats Mingi on the back.

"Come on let's get going." He motions to Mingi.

Before making his way through the crowd, Seonghwa for some reason looks at the club entrance once again only for several seconds but it felt like he was staring at it too long.

'Damn it.'

He breathes in through his nose and glares at the door one last time when he doesn't see any sign of her showing up.  

He turns around and walks away with Mingi making his way towards the cramped backstage, somewhat feeling enraged and accentuated.

~~~

The chilly night air sweeps softly across. Y/N shivers lightly as she feels the goosebumps rise on her skin.

"God, why am I here again?" She groans in vexation as she looks at the blaring neon red lights which say 'HALAZIA'.

The blasting music can be heard outside on the street and Y/N grimaces a little at the loudness. The unusual short suffocating dress and the heavy makeup don't make her any comfortable either.

She quietly laments her rash change of decision.

'Why did I change my mind?'

She thinks to herself as she slowly makes her way towards the entrance of the club. Even when she made her mind up not to come.

Here she is, all dolled up and nearing towards the blaring lobby of the club.

She doesn't know what caused her to change her mind so suddenly, she doesn't even know why the hell she is all pampered up. For all she knows is that she might have felt a pang of remorse.

Remorse for what you might ask.

For ditching Seonghwa when he asked her oh-so sweetly to come and see his performance tonight.

And well maybe she wanted a change as well? A chance to see what really college life is all about.

Because she, herself will not lie but laying down in bed with nothing but books, dramas and chips around has been boring lately.

But upon seeing such a setup before her makes her question her hasty decision again.

"What's done is done." She mumbles under her breath.

Pulling the hem of the dress a little bit down she nears the doors from where she is quite clearly hears a group of people singing and the crowd elating. She slowly opens the door and is kind of terrified with the scene unfolding in front of her.

The strong smell of sweat and alcohol, the blaring music, the hellish screaming crowd, and of course the head-aching neon lights almost makes her back away and run back to her home.

But slowly finding a bit of courage she steps into the bizarre crowd, stumbling her way forward towards the trim stage where she sees the silhouettes of eight men, very obviously making out that these are her fellow batchmates and the town's famous boyband ATEEZ.

As she nears the stage Hongjoong makes an announcement, "The other set will start after our break! See y'all cuties later~"

The group slowly disappears into the backstage. Y/N catches a glimpse of Seonghwa wearing a pair of bootcut leather pants and a tight tank top paired with a tiger print fur coat. Before she can scream her lungs out and call out for him he already vanishes into the backstage.

Y/N sighs in defeat and tries to find the way backstage, blundering across the crowd once again and nearly being suffocated she manages to find a small corner that has the words 'BACKSTAGE' over it.

She slowly looks down at herself and checks herself out. The not-so-vulgar black short bodycon dress which has a splash of glitter over it and her pencil heels reflect back at her. She quickly threads her finger through her hair and fix her soft curls.

'I hope this is okay.'

Before she can push the door open, the door swings open and she falls upon a board chest.

"Sorry- Yunho-" She quickly looks up and stares at his widened eyes.

"Woah- there you alright-?" He wraps his hands around her shoulder and makes her stand straight. A look of confusion passes through his facial expression.

"You- umm don't know me?" She asks slowly.

"Am I supposed to?" He asks with a raised brow.

'Great.' Y/N thinks to herself sarcastically for some reason.

"Never mind- I just thought-" Before she can finish her sentence a final look of realization passes through Yunho's face and he gasps in shock.

"Wait- Y/N? Is this really you?" His mouth opens a bit and he stares at her in near amazement.

"I guess so?" She laughs awkwardly.

"Never thought you would be here." He laughs and quickly realizes what he just said, "I mean you look...different."

"Hey Yunho we need to practice that ver-" Y/N hears Seonghwa approaching from somewhere. He stops mid-sentence upon seeing the appearance of his awaited guest.

"Y/N." He whispers.

Getting out of Yunho's grasp she fully towards him and gives him a small awkward smile, "Seonghwa."

Seonghwa looks at her a light smirk adorning his beautiful face,

"Great to see you. Though you are a bit late."

Y/N slowly scratches her face with her index finger and laughs clumsily,

"Had a conflict of...selections."

Yunho who is just looking at the interaction between the two gradually gets a gist of something as he silently takes his exit.

Neither Seonghwa nor Y/N takes notice of his departure. The two are engaged in gaping at each other.

"It's a quite...new look." Seonghwa comments.

Y/N looks down at herself and nods her head, "Not as comfortable as sweatpants and loose tees."

"But it looks great." He immediately adds on and blushes a little upon acknowledging what he said.

"Um..Thanks-?"

Both of them fall short of words, the loud music fills in their silence. The atmosphere feels a bit stifling around them.

Y/N looks down at her heels in utter awkwardness while Seonghwa stares at her tenderly.

Seeing this new side of hers has surely made him feel something.

Something which he isn't sure of.

Seonghwa lowly grunts upon the thought.

Welp this is surely going to be a long night.

a/n - so sorry for the long wait guys! My college just started and I had tons of assignments plus my freshie party is this weekend along with some other parties, assignments and tests lined up as well but I will be more frequent with the updates see y'all cuties later ;)

for more stuff click here!

[thatsoanjie]

Unspoken costs

Sebastian Sallow x reader

Summary : You start doubting Sebastian's intentions in your friendship.

Word count : 1 124

Notes : Requests are open! I just write these to get the ideas out of my head :)

Read my disclaimer and fair use notice here

The thought crept up on you like a shadow, subtle at first, but growing in size and weight until it consumed nearly every quiet moment you had to yourself. It was one of those thoughts that made your stomach churn, your heart clench, and every instinct scream to push it away. But no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, it lingered, gnawing at you, relentless.

It started with a simple, innocent observation—how often Sebastian would bring up Anne in your conversations. It was natural, you told yourself. Anne was his sister, his world, the person he loved most. Of course, he would talk about her, especially when you had been so deeply involved in their quest to cure her.

But then the doubts began to creep in. What if that was all you were to him? A means to an end? Someone who could help him save Anne, but nothing more?

You began to replay every interaction in your mind, searching for signs, for clues. Every time Sebastian had pulled you into his schemes, every time he had sought you out for help, every time he had looked at you with those intense, desperate eyes—it all seemed to revolve around one thing: Anne. And the more you thought about it, the more it started to hurt.

Were you just a tool to him? A convenient ally who could be discarded once Anne was cured? The idea sent a wave of nausea crashing over you. You cared about Sebastian—more than you had ever cared about anyone. But what if that care, that love, wasn’t mutual? What if you were just another piece in his puzzle, and nothing more?

After one particularly grueling day in the library, these thoughts became unbearable. You had spent hours researching yet another obscure text, and Sebastian had been restless, his frustration bubbling over.

“We’re missing something,” he muttered, his voice strained. “There has to be something more… something you can do.”

You paused, trying to calm the rising tide of doubt, but it felt too familiar, too raw. "Sebastian," you started, your voice shaking, "do you only want me around because I can help you save Anne?"

The question cut through the air, sharp and immediate. He stopped, narrowing his eyes at you, his posture stiffening.

"Are you serious right now?" His tone was incredulous, defensive. “After everything we’ve done, after everything I’ve asked of you, you’re really going to throw that at me? You think you're just some tool?"

Your breath caught in your throat, but you stood your ground. “It feels like that sometimes.”

He scoffed, pacing now, clearly agitated. “You know what, maybe you're just too afraid to see things through. Maybe it’s easier to think I’m using you than to admit you’re scared of what comes next. Coward.”

The word hit you like a blow, your heart hammering in your chest. “How can you say that? After everything we've been through?”

"Because it’s true!” he shot back, his eyes burning with frustration. "You’re brilliant, more capable than anyone I know. Hell, half of the things we’ve accomplished wouldn’t have happened without you. But here you are, too afraid to push yourself further, hiding behind this—this doubt. You think I haven’t noticed?"

The weight of his words settled on you, heavy and stifling. “I’m not hiding. I just need to know… What happens when Anne is cured? Where does that leave us?”

His expression softened, but only for a moment. “Why does it matter?” he asked bitterly. “This isn’t about us, this is about saving her.”

You felt the sting of his words but pressed on. “No, Sebastian. It is about us. I need to know if I’m just a means to an end.”

He stopped, his face hardening as he looked away, the tension thick between you. Then, almost too quietly, he said, “Maybe you want to be a means to an end. Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t want this responsibility.”

His accusation stung, but you didn’t back down. “That’s not fair. I’ve done everything I could.”

“I know!” He finally turned back to you, his voice breaking slightly. “I know you have. And that’s exactly why it frustrates me that you don’t see it. You’re extraordinary. Your talent could change everything, do things I can’t even begin to comprehend. But every time it matters—every time it could really make a difference—you hesitate. And I don’t get it.”

You felt the lump in your throat grow tighter, his words cutting deeper than you had expected. “I’m not like you, Sebastian,” you said quietly. “I can’t just throw myself into it without thinking about what it’ll cost.”

Sebastian was silent for a long moment, his face a mixture of anger and something else—something more complicated. "I don’t want to admit it, but you’re right. You don’t have to be like me, and you don’t owe me this.” His voice softened, but there was still a raw edge to it. “I can’t deny your talent is incredible. It’s—it’s the kind of magic that changes everything, that changes people. And maybe I’ve pushed you because I thought... because I needed you to see it, too. But I get it. I’m not asking you to follow me down the same path.”

You blinked, surprised by his shift in tone, by the way his defenses crumbled just enough for you to see the vulnerability underneath.

“I can’t ask that of you,” he continued, more measured now. “And I respect that. I just… I just wish things were different. That I didn’t need you so badly, and you didn’t feel like I was taking advantage of you.”

There was a painful silence as his words settled in. For the first time, it felt like he was admitting that he’d put too much on you, expected too much without understanding the weight of what he was asking.

“I don’t want to be a coward,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I don’t think you are,” he said, his gaze finally softening as he looked at you. “I think you’re braver than you give yourself credit for. But I’ll respect your choice. Whatever you decide, I won’t push you.”

For the first time in a long while, you felt something loosen in your chest. His words weren’t perfect—there was still hurt, still unresolved tension—but it was enough. Enough for now.

“Thank you,” you murmured, the air between you still heavy but no longer unbearable.

Sebastian nodded, stepping back slightly but keeping his gaze on you. “I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted quietly. “Not because of this. Not because of anything.”

***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Requests are open. I've been trying to get a fic out every monday at 4pm ET. So far, so good! I do need to branch out from one character fics lol.

[blue-rose-soul]

I started reading your AU posts and I love them.With Raised Together AU I wonder what Alastor's reputation is like in hell, you mentioned that he is not exactly like the demon on the radio, but unlike Charlie he did work to be feared. Is he still facing the Overlords and seeking to dominate the Pride Ring? Sorry for the bad English.

Thank you, glad you're enjoying them! And hey, your English is just fine. You're already doing WAY better than me by speaking more than one language.

In the Raised Together AU, Alastor starts building his reputation from the starting point of being a royal bastard. While the royal family are undoubtedly powerful, because they aren't intimidating at all, the sinners of hell in general don't respect them. So Alastor's actively working against that when he starts building a name for himself.

He's not really working to control the Pride Ring. Illegitimate child or not, Lucifer recognizes him as his son, and while Charlie's the heir proper, she does acknowledge him and his input for ruling Hell*. However, Alastor does still hunt down Overlords in this AU. He hasn't removed as many as in canon, since rather than going on a spree Alastor selectively took down Overlords he saw as dangerous and undeserving of their positions. Those who didn't 'show respect to those of fairer means.' He's also involved himself in turf wars, making sure things turned out in his favor, backing sinners he found more worthy or that would be easier for him to work with. In the Raised Together AU, Alastor ensures that people witness him actively using his power and know that he is both capable of and willing to rip souls apart if they stand against him. That he's strong independently of his father.

The general public don't have the same kind of horror-struck awe of this version of Alastor as in canon, but they do acknowledge his strength. So while sinners may not run scared at the sight of him, they know better than to fuck with him.

(*Given that Alastor actually did live on Earth, albeit briefly, and has some insights into mortals and their lives, Charlie considers his perspective invaluable when it comes to dealing with sinners. This in spite of the fact that they disagree on the subject of redemption.)

[reidmania]

Hey😁 you said request were open and i was wondering you could write a spencer reid fic where him and the reader get into a petty argument or something and he says something a little mean and has to grovel to the reader because she’s upset? I love your work by the way and you can add or take away whatever you want👍😊

not so funny | spencer reid

summary; after a rough day, Spencer accidentally takes his frustration out on you leading to a lot of guilt and grovelling.

warnings; spencer is mean, fem reader, he calls reader a bitch but he makes up for it, arguments, hurt x comfort, crying, it ends up being pretty cute.

an; ITS MY BIRTHDAY GUYS!!!!

“Come on spencer” You almost groaned as your voice itched with irritation, your hands flew up before dropping by your side. You were stood in the kitchen, trying to make dinner but the pasta on the stove and vegetables half cut on the counter were long forgotten.

Spencer spluttered, “You aren’t listening to me!” He groaned, bringing his hands up to his face dragging them down over his eyes as he turned his body away from you to the side. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes — this entire argument was pointless.

It started all because Spencer had come home after a bad day and was slightly snappy with you, just briefly and when you made a joke about it — he didn’t seem to take it as a joke.

“It was a joke — God” You sigh, turning back to the vegetables you were dicing before he walked in the door after work, but honestly with the annoyance bubbling in your chest you doubted you should be responsible for a knife right now.

His eyes widened, “But it’s not funny! You were just being a bitch” He mutters out, shaking his head before the realisation of his words fell on him the same time they fell on you.

Your entire face fell. Never had Spencer called you anything like that — he had commented repeatedly how much it pissed him off when peoples partners called them names like that. He had never been anything other than gentle with you.

He said your name as his eyes fell on your face. Before he could even open his mouth to apologise you were pushing past him to walk away. His hands reached out to grab ahold of your wrist as he repeated your name but you only flung his arm away from yours and you continued walking to the bedroom.

Spencer stood with his head in his hands as he knew better than to follow you right now. All the anger he had felt from the day that had built up slipped away when he saw the look on your face. — Hurt. He hurt you all because he had a crappy day.

He heard the bedroom door slam shut causing his shoulders to flinch slightly. He wanted nothing more than to follow you and spend the rest of the night apologising to you, he didn’t think there was anything he could do to express how sorry he was.

But he knew better than that. He knew it would just annoy you more if he walked in there right now and that was the last thing he wanted.

Instead he spent the next hour in the kitchen finishing the dinner you had started making — He knew wouldn’t taste nearly half as good as it would if you made it, his cooking skills no where near as good but he found himself doing it anyways.

He relished in the slight distraction but it only did so much as his mind continued travelling to you and the words that had left his mouth. He didn’t mean them. You weren’t a bitch. You were nothing of the sorts and the fact that he had even let that slip sent guilt coursing through his veins.

The day had been nothing but shit. To say the least. Everything was going wrong and Spencer couldn’t shake the annoyance. It didn’t help that right before leaving he had gotten into an argument with Morgan about something on a past case.

He didn’t mean to take his bad day out on you, he never did.

He finished the dinner, but the appetite he once had disappeared as it replaced the spot in his stomach with nothing but guilt. His feet trailed towards the door of your shared bedroom.

Every step was filled with dread as his mind traveled to every possibility. His heart shattered into a thousand little pieces as he heard your soft hiccup through the door.

“Honey?” He brought his hand up to knock on the door gently with his knuckles. His tone was the softest he had used his day — completely the opposite to what it had been the last time he spoke to you.

You didn’t reply but you went quiet. Probably trying to hide the fact you were crying. That made him feel worse — he deserved to feel worse. He knew that.

“Dinner is ready.. Are you hungry” He asked, not pushing his way through the door he was talking to you through. There was a pause on the other side of the door.

You, were curled up on the middle of your bed. Spencer’s hoodie was tugged up over your knees as they pulled to your chest. Your face was blotchy and scarred by the soft tears that stained your cheeks.

You hadn’t been able to shake Spencer’s words no matter how much you tried. You knew he was angry and had a bad day but you couldn’t help but be beyond mad — unfortunately when you are mad it ended in tears.

You wiped the tears from your face as if that would have any effect on the sound of your voice. “No.” You replied, trying to put on the most secure voice you could muster up but it wavered none the less and stayed quiet.

Your heart pounded as you closed in on yourself. “Can I come in?” He asked.

You wanted to say no, push him away and tell him to go fuck yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to, a small part of you aching for his comfort no matter how mad you were, you wanted to hear him apologise, even if you failed to believe it.

“Okay.” Your voice was small.

The door was being pushed open gently a moment after and you avoided meeting Spencer’s gaze, keeping your gaze fixated on the plush of the crisp white sheets that covered the bed.

If you did look at him, you would’ve seen his heart break all in his features at the sight of your tear stained face. His feet pattered towards you as he sat down on the edge of the bed, a respectable distance away from you, not wanting to push any boundaries.

“Im sorry” He said quietly, it sounded genuine and it burnt a way into your chest. You never brought your eyes to meet his as your mind failed to comprehend a response. You didn’t have a whole lot to say.

So instead, you just nod.

He frowns. “I am really - Im so sorry.” He said, shifting uncomfortably on the bed, eyes trailing over your face, uncomfortable silence washing over the room as he tried to figure out what to say next. “I had a shit day — which isn’t an excuse. I should’ve never called you that. I shouldn’t have taken my bad day out on you” He muttered.

You nodded curtly. “Okay.” Was all you said in response. There wasn’t a lot you could muster up as despite his apology his words burnt into the back of your mind, leaving a engravememt on your brain.

He frowned deepened. He knew he didn’t deserve your forgiveness and he didn’t expect it. He hurt you and he apologised hated that.

“I love you.” He said softly. Even if you didn’t believe his apology he wanted you to at least believe that he loved you.

You just nodded feeling a lump in your throat as your chest grew impossibly tight. You kept your arms wrapped tightly around your knees, holding them close to your chest almost as if to try and numb the burning sensation that made its way through to your ribcage.

You didn’t answer.

“I’ll leave you a plate in the microwave okay?” He muttered after a moment of silence. The silence dawned heavy and cold. You didn’t bother replying as he stood up.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment before a soft sigh left his lips. “Im really sorry” He apologised again.

You didn’t see him again that night, you assumed he slept on the couch which made you feel slightly bad but you were so.. hurt.

The argument was stupid. He knew that, he knew it was a joke and any other time it wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest, he hated how the one time it did he took it out on you.

The next day you didn’t see Spencer when you woke up, you assumed he went to work which made a puddle of relief fill your stomach as you realised you were able to self indulge in your feelings while he was away.

You missed him.

The door opened at 7:34, a lot later than when Spencer usually arrived home and for a while you were genuinely considering maybe he wasn’t going to come home.

You turned to face him as he stepped into the kitchen where you were, the same positioning the two of you had been in when the argument first arose.

“Hi.” He said softly, placing his car keys on the counter. You looked over him and guilt fell as you he looked a mess.

He pulled his arm from behind his back, handing you a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. He chewed at his lip nervously as you didn’t say anything but took the flowers from his hand, looking over them.

Your favourites.

“I know flowers aren’t an apology, thats not why I got them” He said quietly, you remembered a conversation you had with him about hating how guys got their girlfriends flowers as an apology — and he agreed, going on to say that guys should be getting flowers constantly.

You perked up slightly as you furrowed your brows in confusion — if not an apology why now.

“The last ones I got you are browning.” He said, reading your look of confusion. Your lips pursed as you looked over at the vase you always kept the flowers Spencer got you in. They were in fact browning.

He dragged his hand through his hair as he placed a grocery bag on the table, before looking back at you. “You aren’t a bitch, you weren’t acting like a bitch, if anything I was.” He said, taking a few things out of the bag.

Your favourite snacks, your favourite drinks and a small velvet box.

Your heart tightened slightly.

He took a step towards you and you stayed in place, pulling your eyes away from the items on the table. “Im really sorry I ever said that. It was stupid and disgusting of me” He hesitantly brought his hand up to your face.

You tensed slightly but didn’t flinch away, allowing him to push strands of hair behind your ear. “You are gorgeous, inside and out. There isn’t a bitchy bone in your body and Im sorry.” He said gently.

“I am so mad at you” You said, the first proper thing you have said to him in days. He knows it shouldn’t but just hearing you talk made his pulse relax slightly — and then speed up all over again.

“Good.” He said gently, “Thats- Its a good thing. You should be mad.” He said softly, “Id never want it to be a situation where you allowed that.. where it happened often enough for you not to be mad. Be mad, mad is good. Don’t be silent” He said as his thumb brushed gently over your cheek.

You hummed. You knew deep down silent treatment was the worst for Spencer, but honestly last night you had nothing to say. “You can yell at me, scream — hit me if you want” His tone was so gentle. You just scoffed, “Im not going to hit you” You said.

He smiled, “I know.”

“You have a lot of making up to do you know.” You pushed out, trying to ignore the way your face instinctively leant into the warmth of his hand, relishing in the soft roughness of his hands.

He nodded, “I’ll do anything, sweet heart.” He said and his tone held nothing but genuine emotion.

“Okay.” You nodded.

“Okay?” He asked.

“Okay.. Spence I just said that” You huffed out. A smile lit his lips, he leant down to place a gentle kiss to the top of your head, you tried to hide the smile on your face.

“Okay.” He repeated making you groan but you were smiling nonetheless.

Spencer spent every second apologising for the next two weeks, buying you everything he saw that he thought you would like and going above and beyond until you physically and verbally said that you forgave him.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n: 2.1k w.count- boothill needs a lil tune up [...y'all should've seen this one comin' honestly]

you're not sure why you bother setting an alarm every time you go to sleep. you don't even know when you'll be sleeping for one; it could be in the afternoon, it could be in the morning, it could be for ten minutes at your workbench, and on the rare occasion, you can even go to bed at night like everyone else. although, that last option when blessed upon you, never lasted the whole night.

as for the original dilemma of alarm clocks? who needs 'em! the critters getting into your shop and wrecking your tools around were a surefire way to get your blood pumping with a wild chase around the shop with a hefty, swinging wrench. kids stopping by to see the newest hunk-of-junk thing you've been tinkering with or maybe even bringing you some toy to fix with whimpering chins are always sure to keep you awake- you couldn't send them away with smashed hopes. perhaps it was a good natured older lady or gentlemen just stretching their legs one fine morning after you had pulled an all nighter, but now you have to entertain their gossip well into the morning past the ass-crack of dawn because you can't be a bad host!

this instance, however, just so happens to be the familiar sound of heavy, metal boots clanking their way through the shop's public entrance. the sound of the stomping reverberates around your small little rest room at the back of your shop through the camera feed you keep running at all hours (mostly for those critters previously mentioned). having just fallen asleep on top of being hyperaware of sounds from the feed, your eyes fly open. with a well-overdramatic, one-person show worthy groan evolved to frustrated yell, you were throwing your shabby blanket off your legs.

"wakey, wakey!" the synthetic voice of an overly familiar man projects into your room.

you stomp across the room in two short strides. slamming your palm down on a button attached to a small table with all sorts of other switches and knobs, the small indicator that audio is feeding from your microphone kicks on as red as your temper.

"the hell do you want?" you growl, voice muffled at the end of your exhausted question by your free hand running down your face. you hear his voice chuckle on the other end. peering through your fingers into the video screen, he had moved to stand away from your shop door. his arms are crossed across his metallic chest, chin tilted up so his one eye can gaze into the camera that follows his movements.

"now, now, sugar," he chuckles, "just open the door, would ya'? i could use some fixin' up." as if trying to coax you into letting him in, he waves one of his arms around by the elbow.

you're not sure if he heard you click your tongue before you lifted your hand off the audio feed button, but he chuckles nonetheless as the soft click of disconnection echoes on his end. he knew you'd come racing to the door... well, at the very least you wouldn't leave him out to dry.

the cowboy dips his chin and chuckles under his breath as the brim of his hat shadows his face. he could hear you stomping your way towards him and just imagining your irritated face with a possibly twitching brow was highly amusing to him.

the door in front of his toes swings open inwards and the rush of air as it did so flutters his long bangs that always covered the right side of his face. his chin rises a fraction, and he was right. your face was assuming.

standing in a wrinkled shirt that you no doubt had been trying to sleep in, arms crossed and a crease so deep in your brows he was tempted to push his thumb between them.

"well," he starts, swaying his hunk of metal bodyweight to one of his equally metal legs, "ain't you a sight for sore eyes."

"what. do you want." you hiss. before he gives you a verbal answer, his arm swings down and swipes something from his pocket before presenting it in front of your face. your eyes nearly go crossed to examine it. then you're looking back up at him, not any more amused than before. "is this supposed to be a bribe?"

the cowboy shrugs playfully, twisting the covered candied sucker between his fingers.

"do ya' want it to be?"

you roll your eyes, bringing your arm up to snatch the small boost of sugar from him. "just get in here, boothill." you sigh, free hand coming to rub your forehead. turning your body to retreat back into your home, the clanking of him following behind echoes at your back.

boothill whistles at the state of the familiar shop he'll find himself in from time to time for quick fix-ups. a workbench loaded with heaps of scrap metal, tools, random bobbles, and screws all littered on top of pages and printed blueprints of projects or repairs. it's even more of a chaotic mess than last time. he sits on the stool he normally snags as his when he's here and, without speaking, you're hooking up a small machine attached to the wall next to the bench and offering him the end of a circular cord.

"need a charge?" you ask with a small lisp from the candy you had already unwrapped and placed in your mouth against your cheek.

"well, why not," he entertains. taking the thick, extendable cord from your hand and plugging it into the port on his lower back.

you flit around a few other places before your snagging a stoll for yourself and placing it in front of his knees. you push some estranged tools around with your forearm and, while moving your sucker from one cheek to the other, you begin to maneuver your hair out of your face.

boothill enjoys watching you in this way. it felt familiar- just seeing someone move around in rather mundane ways. this small sense of domesticity was familiar and comfortable. it calmed him; reminding him of home.

"what's the problem?" you finally ask, looking a tad bit more awake and more or less ready to work on whatever issue he had to present.

his right arm moves to cross his lap and his palm bangs twice on his opposing forearm where his internal revolver barrel is.

"i got myself in quite a fuss with this dang thing. forkin' bullet got jammed in the goose-dud thing and i can't even pop the barrel open to reload it."

you stare at him like he just said the dumbest thing you've ever heard. "you came all the way here. because your arm got jammed by a bullet." the way you spoke sounded exactly how you looked at him.

"this ain't no one-handed fix, sugar." you stay quiet, not willing to admit he had a point. using both hands to not only try and pop open the jam, but also tinker around with what was essentially his whole arm's motion control- that did require a bit more finesse than just slamming his arm on a wall until it gave way... which is precisely what you could imagine him doing.

"fine," you yield. "take off that sorry excuse of a 'jacket' unless you want that sleeve covered in oil."

you twist away from him, half-standing at a strange angle to reach across your workbench for something as the satisfying sound of the bottom of his small zipper unlatches. shrugging it off, he tosses it onto your bench, covering a few loose tools and scribblings of paper.

you fully get out of your stool and trot over to the other side of the shop to roll over a smaller table with a metal tub. you wheel it to his left and, without instruction, boothill lays his arm over it.

as you begin to tinker around with his arm, picks, pliers, oil and all working on trying to dislodge the stray bullet that had caused such an issue, boothill has taken to lounging comfortably as he watches.

his right arm, free of any issues or problem fixing, was propped up on the corner of your workbench at his side with his forearm resting along the edge. his metal fingers had snagged a stray nail from the workspace and had been twirling it absent-mindedly between his knuckles like a bullet.

the only words spoken between you both as you worked was the occasional quick apology if something you did prods against a wire that sent a shock up his arm or made his fingers twitch.

"easy. last thing we need ya' doin' is settin' my gun off, sugar," he had told you. just because his arm machinery wasn't properly loaded- ain't nothing was stopping you from accidentally relodging the bullet and sending it through your wall. the sudden discharge coupled with his exposed wires could easily kick his arm back with enough recoil to knock you clean out with how close you were leaning in to see what you were doing.

"okay..!" you whisper to yourself before the sound of something sliding down in his arm is followed by a sensation; one he was almost familiar with. "give me a wrench. heavy," you instruct. on hand was spread across his forearm just at the start of the revolver barrel, the other outstretched towards your bench. grabbing the nearest one, he slaps it into your palm.

with a two, heavy whacks using your newly acquired wrench, you slam the barrel shut and boothill lets out a small breath.

"now, that feels a heck of a lot better," he chuckles. you reach around his forearm, release the tension latch and the barrel swings out successfully. with your pliers, you easily remove one problematic, greasy bullet. "knew i could count on you to get the job done."

"and thanks to you, my hands are gross," you chide. fingers greased in oil. boothill grabs a rag from your workbench drawer and tosses it over your sullied hands. you start working the cloth between your fingers the moment it hits your skin. "i recommend you stick around and charge up before heading out on whatever you got lined up next."

"shucks, you mean it?" you can't tell if he's genuinely thankful you'd allow him to stay or if he was just being facetious. once your hands were at least dry, you start using it to wipe down his arm next.

"course i do. i'll have to give you a quick check again before you go. i'll mess around and try and make it so it doesn't jam like that again. whatever tech-doc you worked with before really needed to focus on the finer details." boothill wondered if you knew that you had lifted his newly repaired limb and started rotating and twisting it like you were admiring your work. like you were admiring him.

"they don't matter no more," he tells you. "i got ya' now, don't i? who needs some random rear shirt-bag, when i got the best in the forkin' business right here?"

"careful now. flattery will get your everywhere."

"no shirt?"

"watch your mouth," you tease before you stand. "i mean it though. stay put and charge."

"i ain't no stupid electronic," he clicks. his body moves and twists so both of his arms are now leaning on the workbench behind him. both elbows supporting him as his arms dangle off the ledge. "but I hear ya'." his eye shuts under the shadow of his hat.

his eye reopened no sooner than it shut when the shadow caused by the brim of his cowboy hat disappeared and the light of your shop flitered through his eyelids. with a clear, open eye, he lifts his chin to see you standing in front of him.

you had pinched the brim of his hat between your fingers, snatching it off his head and revealing the fullness of his long, dual-colored hair and cross-hair-infused eye. you take his hat and nonchalantly toss it behind his right shoulder to avoid getting any residual oil from his left arm on it.

"take your damn hat off inside my shop will you? you don't need it." you turn away from him as he continues to stare at your back, slack jawed. you mutter something about washing your hands and arms before you disappear behind a doorway and around the corner of the wall. he'd been in the entirety of your shop before, so he knows where you went but all he could think about was you flicking his hat off him.

the cowboy let his head fall backward, the hair on the backside of his skull tangling with screws and pencils as his right hand comes to rest over his face. he can hear the water running in the other room.

"ah, son of a nice lady...!"

boothill has really got to tell you not to mess with his hat.

a/n: one day i'll write a flirty hat rule fic. *sigh* one day.

[jxckchxmpi0n]

BOXER ETHAN HEADCANNONS

This has been on my mind for so long. Shoutout to the people who gave me some ideas 🙌 sorry for being short. I couldn't think of any [plus it's late and I haven't posted anything in a few days]

Mentions of NSFW | m.list

Ethan found an interest in boxing the year before he met you. He didn't mention that much, but when you came over to his dorm, you found his gloves and became obsessed.

He always has bruises on his knuckles.

Sometimes, if he's having a rough day and you haven't heard from him, usually due to arguments with his dad, you'll always find him at the rink.

The first time you visited him, he was fighting with another boxer. You sat at a bench watching him. Seeing him move so quickly was so mesmerizing.

On days he loses his matches, he will come back to his or your apartment so frustrated. You would help him out by making him feel good, but it was never enough.

He would then just become a different person and take his frustration out on you, but still be very sweet about it. "Fuck, baby making me feel so good. Taking me so well, look at you. You like it when I'm this, don't you?"

Everynow and then his walls would slowly have new posters to hide the fact that he punched some holes in them.

When you hang out, he will do his workout sometimes, and afterward, his hair will be sticking to his forehead. He'd be out of breath and sweaty. You never mind that look on him, though.

Once he's done with his workout, he would stand in front of the mirror and flex. Then, he would run to you and flex so you could touch his muscles. He always gets excited when he sees improvement.

"Do you feel that?"

"I do! Wow, look at you!"

One day, he forgot his water bottle at your apartment, so he asked you to bring it by. He was already in the rink, all sweaty and punching at his opponent. After his match, when he saw you, his face would light up.

"There you are, baby," he would then kiss you very passionately, not caring if the other saw.

Sometimes, when you're making food, he will just stand there and fake punch at you, and sometimes he really will punch you but not forceful. It would be the lightest tap ever.

You would ask about boxing all the time, which led him to show you some moves. He couldn't help himself in the end, but seeing you all serious and doing something he loves just turned him on.

After tournaments, you would wait for him to take a shower. The others would be gone by now, so you waited in the lobby. But you noticed a text from him asking you to come to the locker rooms.

He would then convince you to have a quicky. "That's it baby, fuck you feel so good"

Sometimes, when he's bored, he will sit there and just punch at your legs. Not hard or anything, just tap them mainly and make sound affects. "Psh boom pow bam psh"

On bad days, you would have to patch him up. His dad would get into his head, which made him doubt himself in boxing. "I know your dad says shit all the time, and he's wrong every single time. Do what you love! Don't listen to him, even if that means cutting him out of your life. If boxing makes you happy, do it!"

You would have so many first aid kit supplies, mainly for his knuckles, because he would split them so often.

Manz treats you so well!!

He will spoil the shit out of you! When winning matches, he always wins some cash, and more than half always goes to you!

He has this routine before a match, and if he doesn't kiss you, he believes he doesn't have good luck.

If he hadn't gotten a hair cut in a while and his hair was grown out, he'll let you braid his hair before he went to the gym.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Nightvisions - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: This is part 2 to Dead of Night, Reader and Spencer face the fallout of an intense first sexual encounter, which leads to a second one.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: i’m overjoyed by the positive response to ‘dead of night’ and i’m a woman of the people so despite my lack of plan to do a part 2, i wrote one anyway, and this is it! tbh i’m not too sure how i feel about this but i had fun writing it anyway ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: pervert!spencer, dom!spencer, angst, established relationships, confession of feelings, semi-public sex, noise control, hair pulling, spit, oral sex (reader receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it), penetration, creampie, panty stealing, references to knifeplay, slight biting, hickey (kinda?) pet names (angel), fem + afab reader, happy ending

Rating: R, 18+

——

As the work day dragged on you could feel your initial shock and intrigue twist into an anger that burned in the pit of your stomach. Every glance Spencer took at you from his desk across the bullpen made your blood pressure spike, unable to properly focus on the paperwork you had been working through for the better half of the day. Your mind kept drifting, trying to rationalize his potential motives, but the more the thought stirred in your mind the less you could justify it to yourself. You had to hear it directly from him, as soon as possible.

“Spencer, can I get your input on something?” You called him over to your desk, masking the frustration in your voice. He scrambled to his feet, eager to be close to you again for the first time since this morning. He leaned over your desk, glancing at the paperwork in front of you.

“How can I help?”

You pointed to an insignificant line of text as you leaned forward, bringing your mouth inches from his ear.

“Meet me in the conference room in 5 minutes.” You whispered, watching as he gulped and nodded.

“That should be good.” He said as a cover, hoping not to draw suspicion to the two of you before returning to his desk.

You grabbed a file for show and walked to the conference room, checking that the blinds were pulled down over the windows overlooking the bullpen. The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow, starting to pace to keep yourself occupied as you waited for him.

Moments later there came a gentle knock at the door before Spencer slowly opened it, dipping quickly in and locking the door behind him. A short silence hung in the air until your emotions got the better of you, his soft expression causing tears to well up in your eyes.

“How? Why?” You blurted out, a mix of confusion, exhaustion, and desperation playing out in your features. He took a step toward you and you took a step back, keeping distance between you. If he touched you, you might break, shatter into a million pieces and never be put back together.

“Please just let me explain.” His tone held such strong desperation that you almost forgot how betrayed you felt. You wiped a tear from your cheek, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the wall, waiting.

“You left your profile up on your computer one night and I couldn’t help myself, I wanted to give you everything you’ve ever wanted, I always have.” He took a deep breath, for once careful to articulate his words as he watched your expression carefully, searching for any sign of forgiveness.

“I know it was wrong, but I never thought I’d stand a chance with a woman like you if I went about it the traditional way. I never intended on hurting you, but I clearly have, and doing so is the biggest regret of my life.” You wanted to believe him, he seemed so earnest, but the doubt was eating you alive by the second. What if it was all an act? Was the connection you felt that night built on lies?

“Was everything you said in our chats a lie just to sleep with me?” You kept a straight face, fighting back more tears to keep your composure. You couldn’t let him know how badly you were hurt, not if he didn’t mean it.

“Oh god no, angel, everything I said was the truth.” He grew more frantic, nervously stretching his fingers as he fought the urge to step toward you again. He just wanted to hold you, to comfort you in the simplest way he knew how, but he couldn’t do anything that might make you more uncomfortable.

“Don’t call me that.” You snapped, still too frustrated with him at the moment to deal with your feelings for him. He nodded, keeping his mouth shut to resist the urge to ramble on and on about what he felt for you.

“I’m not sure I believe you Spencer, I just don’t know if I can trust you anymore.” Your voice cracked, biting the inside of your lip as you watched his face drop.

“You can.” He weighed the risk and took a step closer to you again, and you didn’t move away from him this time.

“How do I know that?”

“I’m in love with you.”

It was the most confident he’d been all day, his voice unwavering with every word.

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” Tears threatened your waterline once more, hanging on his every movement as you tried to read him.

“I do mean it, I’ve known from the first time we spent 2 hours talking nonstop on the jet. No one has ever seen me the way that you do.” His eyes were glassy with tears and your heart began to melt, dropping your arms to your sides and finally closing the gap between you.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You took his hand in yours, your thumb swiping over the veins on the back of his hand.

“I didn’t know if you felt the same.” He sighed, averting his gaze from yours.

“I do.” You confirmed, squeezing his hand. He looked at you once more, the tension between you practically suffocating.

He leaned into you, his face dangerously close to yours as he searched your eyes for any lingering apprehension, but there was none to be found. He took a leap of faith, hoping he was reading you right as his lips met yours, his hand cupping the side of your face. You melted into the kiss, allowing him to guide your mouth against his. Your skin grew hot, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as his actions grew more intense, his lips pushing almost bruisingly hard against yours.

His hands moved lower, ghosting down your sides, the slight pressure against your healing cuts from the night before making you shiver. He finally reached the hem of your skirt, slowly hiking the fabric up your thighs. You pulled your mouth away from his, panting for a moment in hopes of catching your breath once more.

“Spencer, we can’t.” You sighed, meeting his hungry gaze.

“We can if we’re careful.” He countered, pushing you gently back until your hips bumped against the large circular table in the center of the room.

“What if someone hears? If we get caught we could lose our jobs.” The rational part of your brain seemed to be dueling with your primal urges, your body betraying your mind as the thought of getting caught only made the wetness between your thighs grow more intense.

“Then you better be quiet.” He whispered, his large hands gripping your hips as he spun you around, bending you over the edge of the conference table. He dropped to his knees, pushing your skirt up the rest of the way to bunch around your hips, humming to himself as he admired your perfect ass. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them over the curve of your hips and down your legs before pocketing the lacy fabric.

You whined, wiggling your hips back to urge him on.

“Be patient.” He laughed, his voice low. You didn’t have to wait long, his head dipping between your thighs to find your waiting pussy. His strong grip kept your thighs spread as his tongue delved between your folds, quickly giving ample attention to your swollen clit. He was hungry, plush lips drinking in your arousal with every extended lap of his tongue, practically suffocating himself as his nose brushed against your weeping entrance.

You brought your hand to your mouth, biting your wrist to stifle your whimpers as you rocked back against him, indulging in the way he devoured you. He moaned against you, muffled vibrations sending shockwaves through your body, your clit growing more and more sensitive by the second. You were starting to get desperate, riding his face until the table underneath you began to squeak with every rock of your hips. Spencer suddenly pulled away, sitting back on his calves.

“Your desperation is going to get us caught.” He brought his hand between your legs, fingers massaging your clit for a split second before rearing back and slapping against it, causing you to jolt forward. You yelped, a bit louder than you intended from the shock of it, and you swallowed nervously, anticipating his next move.

He rose to his feet, his clothed hips pushing against your bare ass as he gripped your hair in his fist, firmly pulling you upright. You bit your lip to hide your moan, letting him guide your every step as he pulled you across the room, finally pressing your back against the wall.

“Spencer, please.” You sounded more pathetic than you intended but the way his mouth felt on you got you beyond worked up, and in that moment you felt like you needed him inside you more than you needed air.

“Are you going to be quiet?” He questioned, his hand resting on his belt buckle as he waited for an answer.

“Yes, I’ll be good, I promise.” You looked up at him, giving your best doe-eyed look as you began unbuttoning your blouse. He began to undo his belt, letting his pants and briefs fall to his ankles as he held out his hand in front of you.

“Spit.” He commanded, the dominant side of him coming out more with every sweet sound that left your lips. You did as you were told, spitting in his hand to provide a bit of lubricant for him to stroke his cock, fully preparing himself to enter you.

You were mesmerized, unable to look away from the way his shirt rode up his torso, toned but slender stomach flexing with each movement of his hand, his hair falling messily in his flushed face, a thin layer of sweat forming on his skin. You pulled the cups of your bra down, toying with your nipples as you enjoyed the show, feeling like you were watching the most intimate sex tape you’d ever seen.

“Are you ready?” His voice snapped you out of your trance, blood rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment over how desperate you were for him. You nodded frantically, draping your arms behind his neck, pulling him to you. You raised your leg, wrapping it around his waist, looking down between your chests to watch him lineup his cock with your cunt. He pushed the head in, cutting off the gasp that threatened to rip from your throat as he pulled you into another intense kiss.

He sank fully into your tight walls, the soreness you felt from the night before melting away with every stroke he laid into you. You moaned into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as you allowed him to take the reins, his controlling grip digging soft bruises into the flesh of your breasts, then your hip, electricity flowing between the two of you. You pulled away from the kiss, coming up for air, so lost in the feeling that you couldn’t make out any coherent sounds, only gentle whimpers and whines.

“You feel so good.” He moaned quietly, quickening his pace, his hand sliding between your bodies to find your clit, the rough pad of his thumb pressing firm swipes up and down over the swollen bundle of nerves. Your whimpers grew louder, and despite your hazy state, you knew you had to quiet yourself quickly. You pulled him closer, burying your face in the side of his neck, your lips latching onto the soft skin behind his ear.

A groan rose from the back of his throat, your mouth sucking against his pressure point pulling him dangerously close to his release. You swore you were seeing stars, supernovas erupting between your thighs as you started to contract around him, your senses overwhelmed with his touch, crying out against his neck. Your knee began to buckle, your leg almost giving out if it wasn’t for his firm hold on your hip. He continued to pump in and out, helping you ride out your orgasm until you had gained a bit more of your composure, able to support yourself again despite how fucked out you felt.

Spencer felt himself falter and anchored his hips against yours, keeping himself seated within your warm walls as they coaxed him to completion. He quietly moaned your name, his head hung to observe the view of himself pulling out of you. You dropped your leg, still in a daze as you began righting your clothing. After you redid the last button of your top and yanked your skirt back down over your ass, you realized you couldn’t find your underwear.

“Looking for something?” He questioned, that familiar dorky smile plastered across his face. You turned to face him, seeing the lace dangling from his fingertip, but as you grabbed for it he pulled it out of reach.

“These are mine now.” He shoved the fabric back in his back pocket before you could attempt to steal them back again.

“Spencer, your cum is dripping down my leg, I kind of need those.” You took a stride toward him to close the gap between you, hoping to wrap your arm around his waist and take them out of his pocket. Your plan was quickly foiled as he grabbed your wrist, pinning it behind your back.

“You better keep your legs closed then, I’m not giving them back.” He whispered in your ear, his tone low but hinted with mischief.

“Whatever, pervert.” You pulled out of his grip, starting to walk toward the door. Your slight annoyance with his teasing quickly faded, unable to deny that walking back out into the bullpen full of Spencer’s cum was an incredibly hot concept.

“What does that make you, then?” He laughed, running his hand through his hair to make it somewhat presentable.

“An angel, according to you.” You turned back to him momentarily to wink in his direction, giving him a comfortable resolution to your slight outburst earlier.

“Can I see you again? Outside of work, I-I mean.” He slightly stumbled over his words, his dominant demeanor fading back into his signature awkward cadence, clearly a bit flustered by your tongue-in-cheek show of affection. You almost laughed, the question feeling a bit absurd given that you’d both just confessed your feelings for one another in more ways than one.

“Take me out to dinner tonight, I’ll be ready by 6. You have my address.” You smiled, watching a blush rise over his cheeks in response to your callback before unlocking the conference room door and returning to your desk to finish out the workday, eagerly awaiting your first real date with Spencer.

——

tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea @theoraekenslover @placidus

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my spencer reid taglist :)

also tagging those who requested a part 2, thank you for the inspo!: @silver138 @espressoparis @futuremrsreid @charmedkim @lilcuutiee @cryxbabyxxx @c1rcus-baby

[idiotgojo]

eye fucking satoru <3

tags; gojo x reader | fluff, suggestive (?) | jealous (?) insecure (?) reader

note; here's some comfort before the next chapter leak... gojo comeback 😩

"I'm not jealous, I'm just—" you waved your hands in frustration, unable to put words to match what you were feeling. That was all you could manage. Gojo, on the other hand immediately understood. He smirked, narrowing his eyes at you.

"You really don’t realize the effect you have on me, do you?"

And that was how you ended up on top straddling him, both of you still fully clothed. The heat of his body radiated through your thighs as you sat on top of him.

“What are we even doing? I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed,” you sighed, trying to lift yourself off his lap, though a part of you wasn’t entirely convinced.

"While my princess is mad at me? I'd rather die than let you sleep upset with me," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His hands tightened on your waist, keeping you locked in place, as his gaze softened just a little with a pout.

Suddenly, a wave of insecurity hit you out of nowhere. You were usually confident—quick-witted, and perfectly aware of your beauty. But something about the way that other woman had flirted with him earlier stirred doubts. She was a contrast of you—different hair, a niche style, a whole different vibe. Was Gojo craving something new? Was he tired of you?

Just as your mind began spiraling, his palm faintly tapped your thigh, bringing you back to the present. You bit your lip, refusing to meet his eyes, knowing if you did, you might just fall apart in front of him.

"Look at me," Gojo said softly, yet firmly, as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes remained fixed on your fidgety hands in your lap. But Gojo wasn’t the type to let things go so easily. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered,

"I dare you to look into my eyes and see what happens."

You hesitated, but curiosity, or maybe just him, got the best of you. Slowly, you met his gaze.

In seconds, you felt it—him hardening beneath you, unmistakable and sudden. You gasped, instinctively glancing down at his growing length pressing against the thin fabric of your clothes. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you blushed furiously.

Gojo chuckled, reaching up to grab your chin with one hand, tilting your head up to meet his eyes again. His other hand slid up your thigh, teasing.

"Now do you see the effect you have on me?" he asked, his voice loud with excitement, eyes locked on yours that sent a shiver down your spine. The corner of his mouth lifted in a sly smile as he waited for you to respond.

Words failed you, your brain fuzzy, buzzing with the intensity of the moment. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a searing kiss. His lips claimed yours, biting gently on your lower lip, eliciting a moan from you. The pressure of his body beneath yours, the friction as you rocked your hips against him—it all made your pulse race, drowning out every thought but him.

Both of you groaned softly into each other’s mouths, hands roaming feverishly. The heat between you was undeniable, and the tension finally snapped as you deepened the kiss, tongues tangling, breathing ragged and needy.

That night, Gojo didn’t just show you his desire—he made it clear that you were the only one he ever wanted. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word left no room for doubt. You were his one and only.

disclaimer (?); a lot of ??? in the whole post, which is probably because I'm not even a real writer. I just write for fun, a place to collect and keep my scenarios I create in my head before I go to bed lol. This is my first written piece! Enjoy :)

© idiotgojo 2024 do not steal or translate. if you wish to use the idea and create a better fic please tag me :)

[plathfiles]

hii, could you do something where reader is family friend and visits every summer so she’s there when Ollie is too, and he senses reader and felix’s tension and tries to ruin it or come between them? And like some angst, drama, tension and just pent up frustration between Felix and reader

ooh yes! angst and drama, this is perfect

i hope you enjoy and thank you for the request!

☙☙☙☙

pairing: felix catton x fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n, angst, toxic relationships, manipulation, ollie being ollie, jealous!felix, possessive!felix, language.

a/n: I’m really proud of this

☙☙☙☙

You had spent every summer with the Cattons since you were 15 years old. Your father, Henry Roy was best friends with Sir James Catton. Once you met the Catton siblings— Venetia and Felix you came to Saltburn every summer.

Felix Catton. How would someone describe the human embodiment of the Greek god Apollo? That was Felix. He was tall and lanky. When his brown eyes fixed on you, it was like he was staring into your soul.

You couldn’t help but feel attracted to Felix. There was a spark between you two, that burned every summer.

When you turned 18, the Catton sibling’s cousin Farleigh joined in your summer adventures.

The four of you would run through that maze, figuring out its intricate design. Drinking every night and running naked through the tall grass that grew around the castle’s edge.

The summer before you went off to college, Felix and you shared your first kiss. It was a hot sunny day, Farleigh and Venetia were drinking by the pool. Felix had taken you off into maze for a walk.

When you came upon the statue in the middle of the maze, you and Felix were laughing. He leaned in and kissed you. Surprised at first, you pulled away. Then you planted your lips to his and kissed him until dark.

Then the summer ended and you had to go to University in Paris. You told the family you would come back every summer. And you kept your promise.

Now after your first year at college, you came to Saltburn for the summer. Hoping to see Felix. Neither of you had talked about your kiss last summer. It was a moment of passion and you doubted Felix would want to be with someone like you.

You’d heard from Elsbeth that Felix was bringing home a friend. You dreaded the thought of it being a girl, until Elsbeth clarified it was a poor boy from Liverpool.

The day before Oliver arrived you came to the house. Elsbeth was overjoyed to see you, giving you a hug and her usual kind compliment. Venetia said hi and pulled you aside, letting you know that would be staying on her side of the castle.

Farleigh and you exchanged jokes, although really happy to see eachother. Sir James asked you about your father and told you that he planned on inviting your family for dinner one night.

But you wondered where Felix was.

“Where’s Felix?” You asked Venetia, she was like a sister to you. You knew to trust her and she would always have your best interest at heart.

“He’s hiding and also preparing for his new friend Ollie to come over tomorrow. It’s annoying, he won’t stop talking about him. And you, christ, Felix is so nervous to see you,”

You blushed when she said this. But as if he heard his own name, Felix was walking into the room. You looked up at him, a smile spreading on your face.

You walked to him and he pulled you into a hug. Felix had missed you and he wanted to tell you how he felt. After he kissed you last summer he realized how in love with you he was. Felix spent the entire school year pining after you, figuring out a way to tell you.

When he became friends with Oliver, he always talked about you. How you were a friend but could definitely become something more.

Oliver was jealous. He was madly obsessed with Felix and had plans of his own this summer.

“I’m so glad you’re here, y/n,” Felix smiled charmingly at you.

“I’m glad too,” you replied, looking up at him with heart eyes. Venetia gave Farleigh a ‘let’s hope they get together this summer’ look.

After a night of pleasantries, you went to your room excited for what the summer had to bring. Little did you know, this was the calm before the storm.

☙☙☙☙

Oliver arrived the next day. You met him and heard all about his sad backstory. He was nice to you. Felix introduced you to him and immediately Oliver saw how much he loved you.

It made him sick with jealousy. So he planned to tear you two apart.

Later that day, you walked back to your room to change for dinner when you stumbled across a note.

‘Meet me in the garden tonight after everyone goes to bed — Felix ♡︎’

You blushed, closing up the note and planning to meet him. When you got to the garden, you waited. You didn’t see Felix anywhere. You sighed in frustration and confusion. You were cold.

But then you heard foot steps and in the dark you could see a figure. But it wasn’t Felix, it was Oliver.

“What are you doing out here Ollie?” You asked, your arms wrapped around yourself.

“I saw you, from my window. I wanted to know if your okay,” he said.

“Thanks, Ollie but I’m fine. I’m waiting for Felix. I thought—never mind,” You said.

“What?” Oliver asked, his plan unfolding just as he imagined.

“Felix asked me to be here. I thought he was going to tell me he wanted me, after last year,” you explained vaguely.

“Ah well. I don’t want to hurt your feelings but Felix has someone. Well multiple girls. He can’t keep his hands off them at Oxford. It’s ridiculous,” Oliver lied straight to your face. And you believed him.

Tears came to your face. Felix wasn’t interested in you and he already had someone, someone that wasn’t you. “No it’s alright. Thank you for telling me,” you said, wiping away a tear.

“I’m cold, so I should return to the house,” you said, walking past Oliver. He grabbed your hand and pulled you close.

Leaning in, he kissed you softly. You pulled away from him.

“Ollie no,” you said, looking into with eyes with warning. He let your hand go and you walked back into the house.

As you walked back into the house, you didn’t know that Felix saw you and Oliver kiss. As soon as he saw it, his heart broke and he turned away from the window. He didn’t see you pull away and leave.

The next morning, breakfast was awkward to say the least.

You were mad at Felix for not telling you he was involved and for standing you up. Felix thought you’d gotten with Oliver and was extremely jealous.

He was also angry with Oliver, as he knew how Felix felt about you.

Later that day, Oliver tried to find Felix. He was sulking in the sun.

“Felix? Is everything alright?” Ollie asked innocently. Felix just huffed in response.

“What do you think?” Felix asked passive aggressively.

“I’m not sure. I want to know what’s made you so upset?” Ollie asked innocently.

“How could you get with Y/n? I saw you two last night in the garden. You kissed her,” Felix said, sounding hurt.

Oliver frowned. “She wanted me to kiss her. I didn’t know what else to do. She left me a note to meet me and I was going to turn her down because I know how much you like her,” he said.

Felix’s face softened but his heart was breaking. Did you not like him? Obviously not if you wanted Oliver to kiss you, he thought.

“I’m sorry Felix,” Oliver apologized.

Felix turned to his friend, “It’s alright mate, it’s not your fault.” He reassured.

☙☙☙☙

You and Felix were not speaking to each other. Just glaring at each other across the room. Venetia was confused and Farleigh was too busy worrying about his own situation to notice.

“What happened between you and Felix?” Venetia asked, one night before bed.

You huffed, “Nothing, I guess. We kissed last summer and now, well he doesn’t want me anymore.” You explained.

“I find that very hard to believe. He talks about you all the time when you aren’t here. And Farleigh said he couldn’t stop thinking about you during school,” she laughed.

This confused you. You wanted to confront Felix. Angry, you took the note. “Right, I’ll be back,” you told Venetia.

You practically stomped to Felix’s room that night, banging on the wooden door. Felix opened the door, his hair disheveled and only wearing his boxers and maroon robe.

“What do you want?” He asked coolly, leaning against the door.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Don’t take that tone with me. You have been nothing but aggressive towards me this entire week. You won’t look at me, except when you glare. As if I’ve hurt you in some way,” you ranted.

Felix looked at you confused as you continued to speak. “Which is ridiculous, because you invited me to the garden. Not the other way around. I know you have loads of woman just lining up to fuck you. So I will do you the favor of fucking off,” you said, pushing the note into his hands.

You left in a huff and Felix was utterly quiet. He opened up the note and recognized the hand writing immediately.

Why would Oliver lie? He thought. Why did he pretend to be me and write you a note?

Felix walked next door and into Ollie’s bedroom. “Hey mate, I have a question.” He said, shortly.

Oliver looked up from his book, “Yes Felix?”

“That note that Y/n gave you. Did it look anything like this?” Felix said angry.

Oliver looked at the paper that he’d written and slipped under your door. He gulped. “I can explain,” Oliver said, albeit timidly.

“I don’t need an explanation Ollie, you’re a fucking liar. You took advantage of our feelings. Why would you do that?” Felix said.

Oliver couldn’t respond and when he didn’t, Felix left the room going out to try and find you.

You were crying on the bottom of the staircase, drinking a bottle of champagne that you’d snagged from the kitchen.

Coming down the stairs, Felix heard you and came to you quietly.

“Y/n, don’t cry,” Felix said. Hearing his voice, you stood up and turned around.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, wiping away your tears.

Felix walked towards you. His thumb landed on your cheek and wiped away a fallen tear. “I’m sorry about Ollie, he manipulated us. Told me that you wanted him. It made me jealous, because well…because I love you.”

You looked at him in surprise. Felix loved you. “You love me?” You asked, to which Felix nodded, a soft smile on his face. “And you aren’t seeing anyone?” You wanted clarification.

Felix furrowed his eyebrows in worry, “No, no im not. I only want to see you,” he said, leaning in incredibly close.

You nodded, “I love you too, very much,” you smiled softly, looking up into him.

In a heartbeat, Felix kissed you. At first it was soft and sweet. It became heated as you kissed him back. Felix moved his hand around your waist, to hold you up and close to him.

When you pulled away for air, Felix smiled softly. “I’ve been wanting to do that again since last summer. I don’t like it when you’re away. You’re mine, you know.” Felix smirked, pulling you into his hips.

“Am I now?” you grinned, liking the sound of him calling you his. Felix nodded, leaning into kiss you.

“Felix….” You heard Oliver say from the top of the stairs. Felix’s grasp on your waist tightened protectively. You both turned to Oliver.

“Go away Oliver,” Felix said warningly. You gave Oliver an angry look. You wished he would leave.

“I need to talk to you, Felix. We need to sort this out,” Ollie practically whined.

Felix shook his head, “I can’t have you here mate, it was a mistake inviting you.” He said.

☙☙☙☙

The next morning in a dramatic fashion Sir James and Elsbeth led Oliver out of the grounds. You, Felix, Venetia and Farleigh watched from the top of the staircase as it happened.

When the door closed, Sir James clapped his hands together. “Alright. The Henry’s are coming to dinner tonight, everything must be perfect.” He said.

[riaki]

nice boys and sour hearts | satoru gojo x reader

wc: 4.6k cw: minor swearing, he refers to u as 'momma' once (its normal i promise) n i think thats about it post suguru defection, shoko typical smoking ; no established relationship b ur def more than friends

i didnt want this angst to be too intense so i made it super duper fluffy. hopes it tastes like strawberries to u cs it does in my head ; another one of those fics i whipped up to meet the weekend deadline b i’m actually proud of this one not proofread!

satoru hates arguing with you.

it bites at him; twists his heart from the inside out in such a gut-wrenching way that he can hardly stand seeing your nose wrinkle in frustration and your eyes narrow with impatience, let alone hear the words coming out of your mouth, dripping with venom and irritation directed at him. he's never been used to being on the receiving end.

it tastes sour; bitter on his tongue in a way he's never been accustomed to. his tastebuds only recognize the sweet taste of fruit syrup, powdered sugar, or warm chocolate as home; he never indulges in the bitter, like the black coffee the kid he took in seems to like so much. but he'll take the silly sour lemon drops with sweet cream in the center, only because they remind him of you. you, so sweet when you love but sour when you're annoyed, which happens to be now, in this instant.

of course, he'll tell himself he doesn't mind. that sweet and sour have always gone nicely together. like strawberry lemonade on hot summer afternoons when the both of you have had enough of being stuffed into a clammy hot classroom with your musclebrain teacher. sometimes its the three of you, maybe even the four of you if you get lucky with the pixie stick trade offering (a healthier alternative to a cigarette, you both agreed on). but nowadays, it was only ever the two of you. the bitter had chosen his own path, and tangy was locked up in the infirmary sun up to sun down.

but right now, you're upset with him. and he absolutely despises it— to him, it's abhorrent. a strong word, but it's only fitting. but he can't help it when your conversation lingers in his mind, spinning itself a web of self-doubt and hurt and anger as he slips his gym shoes off and redresses himself by the school lockers, running a hand through his hair with a forced, annoyed exhale.

it was nothing big, really. or at least, that's what he thinks. you'd been in the gym after school, watching as he messed around with the basketball, seeing how long he could go dribbling by himself with a bump of his knee there, pushing it to the floor with his hand and watching it bounce back up with mild interest. he had no one to play with, but at least the ball would come back up no matter how much he pushed it down.

it was small. barely worth fussing over.

he had already been irritated. it was hot out, because summer was coming around. sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his chest, seeping into his shirt as he wiped his forehead and made another shoot at the hoop, landing back on his feet with a soft thud as the basketball rattled around the rusted metal ring and fell through the net for the nth time that afternoon.

a hum of approval comes from your throat, followed by a loud whistle of contentment from him as he watches the ball bounce on the floor. he hikes his sunglasses up his forehead, bringing an arm up and wiping away the sweat on his cheek with his sleeve as he turns to look at you.

"that was pretty good, yeah? i think i deserve a celebratory smooch. lay some sugar on me, momma'." he laughs, loud and arrogant. you just give him a pointed look at that, but he ignores it as a sign for something wrong and only acknowledges it as your dramatic endearment. like speeding up at the sight of a yellow light in hopes that you'll make it instead of slowing down at the warning.

his shoes made squeaking sounds on the gym floor as he made his way over to you, swiping his shades off his face and sliding them onto your forehead, nestling in your hair as he grabbed a rag from the bench and wiped the sweat from his jaw. you have his uniform jacket on your lap, the yellow button glinting in the dying sunlight filtering in through the windows, reflecting off indiscernible flecks of dust in the air.

you had watched him with quiet contentment, observing the languid way he moved, graceful like a dancer moving in water. but then, you seemed to remember something; his lips pressed into a thin line, tilted to one side in anticipation. it made you hesitate— he always knew when you were about to speak before you even opened your mouth. he had come to notice, and appreciate, little things about you like that.

"were you smoking with shoko?" you had asked him. he tilted his head, eyebrow cocked up as he made a face. "no, i wasn't. why d'ya ask?" he huffed, watching from the corner of his eye with mild disinterest as the basketball, still rolling from his previous goal, bumped into the wall. cocky as ever.

(he wouldn't even look you in the eye when you were being dead serious.)

you reach a hand into his jacket, fishing around for something in his pocket; that gets his attention. who knows what trinkets and candy wrappers he has in there? and he'd hate for you to send him to his yearly checkup early again; the nurses always try to coddle him, and he has half a mind to charge for battery. nevertheless, he almost mistakes what you pull out for a lollipop stick. but it's not— it's a cigarette; a white papery hit of cancer with a dead cherry. certainly not a wise idea to keep that in his pocket among the other very flammable wax wrappers and the occasional flower petal, but who were you to judge? you, who's lips pucker like they've just tasted lemon juice when he eyes the unlit cigarette, utterly unamused.

he knows that you know it's his; the subtle glistening of pink around the end points to the gloss on his lips; he can practically taste it on his tongue. he wonders if you'd put the cigarette to your mouth too if you could have a sample of his lipgloss; then again, you could always just ask for a lip-to-lip taste, and he'd indulge you without a second thought.

you twist the cigarette butt between your fingers so that he can see the remnants of faint strawberry pink on the edges. he just rolls his eyes with a loud huff, leaning his weight back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

"yeesh. you're such a goody two shoes, y'know? how come shoko's allowed to smoke 'n i'm not?" he drawls, an arrogant lilt to his voice as he sticks his lower lip out. you can see a matte spot where the gloss had been transferred to the cigarette paper. you just sigh exasperatedly (he feels like a kid when you do that) and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. his jacket bunches up in your lap.

you tap the cigarette to his chest a few times; it makes a soft thumping sound against the fabric, and for a moment he's grateful of the noise; it sounds just like the way his heartbeat picks up with each touch, but you don't hear it. he wonders if you ever will. maybe one day, when there isn't so much distance between you and he has the opportunity to tuck your head to his chest, right over his heart.

"it's not that i care about the lung damage, idiot. why were you smoking?" you asked, voice softening. and he absolutely hates when you do that, because it always pulls on his heartstrings and brings a flush to his face, the way you treat him. he thought that if you did it enough, he'd be sent to the doctor for heart palpitations instead of a sweet tooth.

he doesn't answer you at that. how could he tell you, when he knew all that'd result from it was a thorn in his side? you, being the rose. so beautiful but awfully prickly and unfairly sour like a lemondrop with a sweet inside. then again, he'd much rather have your interrogating care than lose you, like what had happened with the reason he was trying out smoking in the first place.

then, it happened— your voice went unbearably soft, like puffy white covers and featherlight pillows with silk covers on a saturday morning, looking out the window to see pink tulips against a cloudy blue sky as the sun streamed in. it almost made him want to clutch your hand over his chest and see if you could feel the way he was reacting. no doubt, it was filled with such patient tenderness; all-encompassing sweetness it made him want to cry. so he coughed to cover it up, averting his gaze and bringing one hand to his face to absentmindedly smooth down the strands of damp white hair hanging over his eyes.

"thinkin' about suguru again, are you?" you asked gently, tucking the cigarette back into your pocket—yours, not his—and reaching out to take his hand.

his lips parted ever so slightly, gaping like a goldfish. he knew he looked silly, and he should've been okay with that— because being vulnerable with you, out of everyone he ever knew (with maybe the exception of one) was easier than breathing; came more naturally to him than his gravitation to a challenge. the same could be said for sweets.

(maybe he'd have to re-evaluate his proclaimed taste, then. since you were more sour than sweet.)

but this time, he wasn't okay with it. it had been hard to talk about what had happened with suguru one year ago since— it formed a nasty lump in his throat, bitter like black coffee and the wrong mix of herbs. it made him feel weak. reminding him of his shortcomings, which, in his mind, shouldn't even exist in the first place. but you never had a problem ripping his problems from the shielded cavity in his gut, bringing them under the operator's light to dissect and solve like a surgeon. forget about forcing him to the doctor's— at this point, you should be the one in the white coat, not shoko. he thinks about what you'd look like with blue gloves on your delicate fingers for a moment too long.

"what's it to you?" he snaps back after what feels like three years of his life. his fingers tighten around yours for a moment before he pulls his hand away abruptly.

the frown that lingered on your face from then on had been burned into his memory.

and, well, that was his mistake. it spiraled from there— because he knew what it was to you, and he hated that. hated that you could see straight through him like a cloud blue stained glass window; without rose colored lenses like the ones he always wore (the ones he rocked, he thinks).

a crack of thunder overhead jolts him from his thoughts; he couldn't even get in there to dust the spiderwebs away before being jerked back into reality. he clicks his tongue in disappointment, watching as the skies pry themselves open and rain begin to fall in the way it only did over heavy summer showers. he wishes the sky would stop its weeping, but even the strongest has his limitations.

but it doesn't matter. he has one of those cheap plastic umbrellas he'd bought from a convenience store one day in a late march many moons ago, during the brightest blue spring of his life. and so, he didn't understand why he was lingering at the door, swinging the umbrella around his fingers by the hook on the handle, watching as the rain fell with increased fervor. there was no plastic button to keep the folds tied up, so it floundered around with each swing like a tulip bent by monsoon winds. maybe on the coast of some faraway land with windmills and fields of flowers. he wonders if he'll ever get to see the world with you someday— a fleeting thought that crumbles instantly when he conjures your pretty face in his vision, clear yet distorted like a reflection on a glazed pond, rippling water from the dragonflies that skipped over the surface.

you were definitely still angry with him, because you hadn't showed— normally, you'd walk home together. sometimes with shoko, if she didn't leave early. angry words echo in his mind, the image of your downturned lips swimming in his bright vision as he watches the rain streak down the window panes by the lockers. there's a fog settling over the grass outside that's sure to leave dew after the storm. he wonders when that'll be.

"why can't you ever take me seriously? can't you see i'm worried about you?"

"of course i can. but i don't need your damn concern!”

...

he'd been sorely mistaken, that was for sure. loosing his cool and snapping at you wasn't exactly something he took pleasure in, either way. he leans back on his heels, tapping his foot impatiently as he holds the umbrella like a cane against the floor. infinity could probably do away with the rain. another reason as to why he's not even sure why he's waiting here, or why he's holding an umbrella. perhaps to keep in case he has to offer it to some poor, shivering and cowering young maiden lost beneath the shading of a bus stop behind a curtain of rain droplets, with a charming grin and a wink.

maybe.

a shuffle behind him catches his ear; he turns his head, an unamused expression on his face as his eyes drift over the empty room to land on you. the shadows beneath your eyes are prominent, and your hair is unkempt. there are sleep lines on your face; you probably fell asleep in a classroom somewhere, which is why you delayed.

it was evident you weren't expecting to see him, though— with the way your eyes widened a little before they dropped again, nose bridge wrinkling slightly as if you'd caught the scent of something unpleasant. your eyes left his, and he felt a little disappointed as he watched them wander toward the window, where the current downpour was prominent. he didn't like the way it made his chest pang when your attention was anywhere but him, so he raised his hand lazily, tilting his head to catch your attention that he so clearly craved.

"yo. got an umbrella?" he calls, tapping the tip of his budget cane on the floor. the thud is the only sound for a while as your gaze wanders back over to him; reluctant.

"no, i don't. i didn't expect it to rain so hard today." you responded quietly, stepping over to him with a small sigh. almost a little resigned, he thinks. he can't be sure, though. he never is with you. doesn't know whether to expect his candy to be sour in the center or the other way around; but maybe he likes a bit of uncertainty every once in a while. (not with you, though. if it means arguing? never with you.)

his sunglasses are hooked around the collar of your shirt. he doesn't know why it takes him so long to realize, but when he does, he has to clear his throat in an effort to hide the heat on his face and do away with the blush. "here. take mine. i don't need it," he says curtly, offering his umbrella to you. he wants to snatch the shades from your shirt, but he doesn't want anything to go wrong, so he just eyes them warily, careful not to let his gaze slip past into anything you'd be pissed at him for.

you eye him, eyes narrowed as you raise an eyebrow, but you don't protest. your fingers brush against his for a brief moment when you take it, shaking it a little before opening the door and stepping outside, opening it up. it looks like a little clear plastic mushroom cap over your head; you're short enough to constitute as the stalk in his eyes. it's a little funny, but he has to stifle the laugh bubbling on his tongue lest you think he's making a mock of you.

he follows after you, slipping past to stand at your side with his hands in his pockets. you can't help but feel a little curious despite your prolonged anger (you like holding grudges, he knows), so you sneak a glance upward to satiate your wonder. you don't expect him to look as breathtaking as he does.

the clouds are light overhead; they're not a heavy blanket of gray anymore, and a small strip of light manages to push through, shining on satoru's pale white hair. you can make out the edge of his undercut against his neck when the wind picks up a little, the color of fluffy white clouds on a lavender sunset with the sway of yellow flowers beneath an expanse of a bright sky. there's a little cat hair on the collar of his jacket; you realize with a faint flush that it must've been from when you were holding his jacket for him in the gym. somehow, the cat you have at home found its way to satoru. you hope your pet has become a matchmaking fortune teller, for the sake of your happiness.

what catches your eye the most, though, isn't the cat hair on his dark jacket or the faraway look in his misty blue eyes; it's the outline of rain water around him, a product of his infinity, you realize. he's dry underneath the downpour, and it never ceases to amaze you. it's like there's a soft glowing halo against the backdrop of tangled wires, gray walls and pale green bushes— he looks like an angel boy, school bag hooked and hanging over one shoulder.

eventually, you manage to peel your gaze away, and he notices— looks down at you, pressing his lips together and running his tongue over them. he can taste strawberry gloss.

wordlessly, you start walking. and he follows suit, rain bouncing off of him; you catch yourself sneaking glances from under the roof of your clear umbrella between raindrops that slide down the clear plastic. sometime during the walk home, he had gone off and gotten himself a drink from a nearby vending machine— the red can catches your eye, and your fingers curl around the rubber handle of the lent umbrella as you watch him drink; the bob of his adam's apple before he crushes the can up and tosses it into a nearby bush, causing a brief scattering of leaves and a downpour of collecting droplets onto the pavement.

despite the rain, the weeds between the cracks in the sidewalk still stay strong; they have deep roots. much like the way you never fail to scowl at him for littering. he catches it— of course he does. he's been praying for a sign you're not still so hopelessly angry with him that you can't even bring yourself to have a civil walk in the summer rain together. after the scowl, though, comes the smile— the one that always makes him melt in his shoes, much like the sunshine after the rain.

and there it is at last, he thinks. the hard sour coating melts away on his tongue, draining the taste of lemon to reveal a sweet, genuine center. all it takes is time. your lips curve up, and you duck your head, hiding the small bemused laugh that leaves you breathless.

"what are you laughin' at?" he huffs, glaring down at you. but there's no malice behind it— if only you could feel the wave of relief that's washed over him, a crest of white foam that leaves behind still waters reflected in the pools of sapphire in his eyes. nothing like the hit of numbing nicotine he'd shared in the shade of an alleyway with shoko earlier that day— away from the sun; away from you. hidden from both. or maybe they were the same— to him, he couldn't differentiate.

"i'm not laughing!" you protested weakly, immediately wiping the grin from your lips, and he regrets speaking up. "just.. i dunno."

you walk in silence for a little longer, content to listen to the rain lighten up overhead. satoru kicks a plastic onigiri wrapper out of the way, splashing up a puddle as a frown dampens his face when the wrapping only clings to his shoes. he's fine with getting a little grumpy if it means seeing you smile again. and even better, you laugh again— so sweet, like the chiming of bells in the wind's melody.

"please don't do that again." your voice sounds so very small when he hears it again, and he looks down at you from beneath long white lashes, the corner of his lips quirked up. the shape of them is almost cat-like, you think. he doesn't even know what you're talking about— a vague idea, at best— but he won't do it. not if it means hearing you sound so pathetically... sad. he doesn't like it. it's far too bitter for his taste. let the black betta you both used to know indulge in dark coffee and bitter cologne— satoru likes things sweet, like the cream surrounded by tea leaf matcha in the center of his mochi and fluttering feeling he gets when you run your hands through his hair, fluffing it up to your heart's content.

(as long as your heart is happy, his is, too.)

"i won't. happy now?" he sticks his tongue out, making a face. but you both know he means it— he hates breaking his promises to you. you smile when you look up at him again with a small nod, and he feels his knees wobble a little. he just hopes you don't notice. "sorry for lying. i just.. don't like it when you're mad at me. and you look at me like that," he mumbles under his breath, bunching up the fabric of his pants between his fingers. then, after a moment, "geez, you're so dramatic. quit carin' so much." he really hopes you don't stop, and it makes him feel like the world's biggest hypocrite. the strongest, but so weak for you.

"sorry, can't. the day you stop crushing your soda cans and littering is the day i'll stop caring, 'cus that won't be my satoru anymore." you tease. and he laughs, throwing his head back so you don't see the red that spreads across his cheeks, dusting his skin like powdered sugar on top of a strawberry crepe. he always wants to be your satoru, so he figures he'll keep littering. a few money fines here and there mean nothing to his undentable wallet, or the erratic beating of his heart, trapped against his ribcage in a feathery blooming of flowers he only gets from you and your pretty smile underneath the layer of lemony sourness.

you walk along the road for a little while longer. the rain has lightened, but it's still going— incessant, dripping from the leaves of trees and the knotted black wires overhead. he still has his infinity up, which means he can't pet the cat the two of you spot on your way back, but he's perfectly content to watch you do it. you scratch its chin, smiling at the way it purrs and nuzzles into your hand, and he wonders if he'd do the same if he was in its position.

he's lost in thought when you speak to him again, shoes splashing against murky puddles in the backdrop of a never-sleeping city; tokyo's bright skyline always makes your eyes go round with wonder. you say something, and he chuckles, warm and velvety. and then you realize what's been off with him this whole time— he doesn't have his shades on.

you slip them off the collar of your shirt, smoothing down the fabric before you reach over and attempt to nudge his arm. you don't think it'll work, because he still has his infinity up— and your sleeves are already getting spattered by rain that leaves darkened wet spots on the cotton. but to your amazement, your fingers make contact with his sleeve, and you watch in wonder as the rain actually falls— soaks into that little patch of wet fabric that you're able to feel on his arm. that he's turned his infinity off in that one spot so you could touch him. you spare a glance up at him, only to find his head angled away from you. you might be hallucinating, but the tips of his ears seem red.

you don't linger on it before you're tugging on his shirt with a frown, getting him to look down at you as you unfold his glasses and offer them over to him. he takes them quickly, and you don't miss the way the rain stops falling onto his arm again, back to bouncing off the invisible shield that protects him from everything (but you, it seems). he slips his dark shades back over his eyes, obscuring oceans of pure blue that seem like they've trickled in from the purest snowcaps on the distant mountains dotted with old red tori gates and shrines with scrapped paint. but you can't stifle the smile that spreads across your lips this time— giddy and fresh and filled with youth, blossoming like sakura petals in a spring that seems so far away yet so close with his presence by your side.

you don't say anything for a while. you're content to watch the rain wash down the pavement and into the gutters, past cute little coffee shops and parks with ponds as the droplets from the sky scatter the water in part of a never-ending cycle; watering the surface of the earth and bringing life that would soon spring up as shroomcaps and fresh dew on the clean cut green grass. you wonder what satoru sees through his lenses— though, you already know. you've worn them plenty of times before, when he insists on having your perfume cling to the frame for long missions he's sent on alone, when he can't have you hold his jacket, or his hand, or scold him for sneaking a smoke when you're not watching. that, and the extra lemondrops he keeps in his pocket; gifts from you that he's fought hard for.

you're more prepared to not feel any interference of his infinity this time when you reach over, and this time you don't go for his sleeve—yanking him close to you by his hand and forcing him beneath your umbrella. you feel the way he freezes up for a moment, but his fingers fill in the gaps between your own like its the most natural thing in the world, palms pressed together in a little breathless hug that leaves no room for the humid air.

"don't waste your infinity on the rain, dumbass. you'll fry what little is left of your brain." you scold him, and he just grumbles and scoffs angrily under his breath, cursing you as he hunches over and ducks his head to fit under the umbrella to negate his height. his hair brushes against the plastic roof of the umbrella, and his lanky limbs are still awkwardly sticking out, but his fingers tighten around yours and his thumb rubs over your knuckles, still a little damp from your earlier encounter with the rain, and you can't help but smile a smile bright enough to wash away every last bit of cloud in the sky. his personal sunshine.

even though he still prefers sweet things, satoru's come to like the taste of lemondrops. sweet and sour go well together, after all. just like you and him.

its okay if it doesnt taste like anything to u as long as u enjoyed it :) thanks for reading !! the black betta in question is suguru btw my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity| Jisung

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

You had always admired Han's loving spirit and his ability to find inspiration in the smallest things. He brought light into your life in ways you never thought possible. And he helped you see the world in a way most didn't. You loved that you had that in common with Han- an appreciation for things that breathed life into your creative works.

You had never been very good at drawing. Or writing. Or anything having to do with the fine arts. Rather your creativity came more in a problem solving way. But in order to connect with Jisung, you decided to take up sketching to connect with Han a little more, because you loved him.

But that just created a deep-rooted insecurity about your creative abilities. Surrounded by so many talented people - as you were around the kids -you often felt your own contributions paled in comparison, and it was a fear you kept to yourself.

One evening, Han was over at your place, working on some new lyrics while you attempted to write poetry. He was sprawled on the couch, notebook in hand, humming a melody under his breath. You sat at your desk, scribbling down words and then erasing them feeling increasingly frustrated with your lack of progress.

You had long given up drawing, and you thought it might be easier to write a poem, since it was words that described your feelings. You could easily write a poem about something you knew well right? It couldn't be that hard.

You scratched your head as you tried to think of rhymes.

"How's it going over there?" Han asked, glancing up from his notebook.

"Not great," you mumbled, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

Han chuckled, not noticing your tone. "I figured."

His casual comment felt like a sting, a reminder of your perceived inadequacies. You forced a smile and nodded, but inside, you felt your confidence crumbling.

He got up and walked over to you, picking up your paper in his hands. He chuckled. "Poetry now huh?"

You felt your cheeks burn and tried to take it from him. "No-"

"No jagiya I want to read it." He said holding it above your head and reading it. "You make me laugh when I am sad, Your jokes are the best I've ever had. When you smile, my heart feels light, You make everything so bright." Han giggled again. "It's like one of those poems we had to write in elementary school."

That made your cheeks burn even more. "Jisung give it back-"

"Your hugs are warm, your eyes so kind, With you, I leave my worries behind. You're my sunshine, my best friend, With you, I hope the good times never end." He gives you a cute pouty face in a teasing manner. "Awww Y/N... it's such a cute little poem. It's like a little nursery rhyme."

"Jisung stop!" You called out again, feeling your eyes burn as you put your fists to your eyes, the embarrassment you had taking over.

"I know my poem's not that great, But loving you is my favorite fate. Thank you Jisung..." His smile fell and he swallowed. "Thank you...Jisung for...for being you. My love for you is always true." He looked up and seemed to realize what he was teasing you about and his lip trembled. "Y/N-"

"I want to be alone." You mumbled through your tears. Jisung wanted to reach out, but he knew he had hurt your feelings, but knowing you he also knew you needed space.

The next few days were a blur of self-doubt and creative blocks. You avoided drawing and writing, and found excuses to stay busy with other tasks. Han noticed your change in behavior and even if you guys had talked a couple hours after the incident, he still didn't think his apology was enough.

One afternoon, while you were both working on a puzzle together, Han brought up the subject again. "Hey, you know I'm really really sorry right?"

You nodded. "I know. I'm not mad anymore, Jisung."

Han frowned. "But you haven't been writing at all. Or drawing...I feel like it's my fault. No...I know it's my fault. I'm sorry I made fun of your poem- I loved it. I really did. It's the sweetest thing anyone has ever written me..."

You felt a pang in your chest, wishing you could believe him. "Thanks, but sometimes it feels like I'm just not good enough."

Han looked taken aback. "What do you mean? You're incredibly talented."

You sighed, finally letting out a bit of your frustration. "It's just… I see how talented everyone else is, including you, and I can't help but feel like my work doesn't measure up."

Han's expression softened, and he reached out to squeeze your hand. "You're amazing in your own right, and comparing yourself to others isn't fair to you. I wouldn't ever want you to compare yourself to me. That's like comparing a doctor to an actor. Both are genius in their own right, but do you expect an actor to be able to perform surgery like a doctor? Or the doctor to recite the entire second act of Hamlet? You have your talents that I could never even begin to measure up to, Y/N. Its the same with everyone who walks this planet..."

His words were kind, but they didn't fully reach the core of your insecurity. You forced a smile and nodded, hoping the conversation would end there.

A week later, Han invited himself over to your house, hoping to put an end to both of your guy's misery. You hated feeling like you had to walk on eggshells around him, and he hated thinking he was making you uncomfortable.

You guys ate dinner and started watching a drama. After the fourth episode Han pressed the pause button.

"Baby...can I show you something?"

You nodded, slightly confused as to why Jisung would pause your binge.

He grabbed his laptop from his bag and came back towards you, placing his headphones on your head.

He unlocked his laptop, clicked a few buttons and a soft melody filled your ears. Your eyes widened.

"Did you guys wrtie a new song?" You asked excitedly, but Jisung shushed you gently and motioned for you to listen.

You closed your eyes and let yourself go, embracing the music fully.

You felt your heart almost stop when you heard the words of your poem masterfully intricated into the song.

"Why did you show me that?" you asked, your voice trembling. You didn't dare open your eyes, or you were sure the tears you had would fall.

Han sounded puzzled. "Because it's great and I wanted to share it."

"But it's not great," you snapped, tears falling from your eyes as you opened them. "People will know you just used those words. You're so much more well versed and-"

Han stopped in his tracks, realization dawning on him. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I just wanted to show them how talented you are.” You shook your head.

"Ouch, Y/N..." Jisung chuckled, his voice breaking a little. You looked at Han, whose chubby cheeks were encompassed by his pout. His boba eyes sad.

"No- No baby I meant... I feel like my words are stupid. Not your voice. Your song was absolutely beautiful... I just feel like I made you waste such a good backtrack."

You wiped away a tear, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "It's not your fault. It's just… I can't help but feel like I'll never be as good as everyone else. And I feel like you did that to make me feel better..."

Han pulled you into a tight hug, his voice gentle and soothing. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You're incredibly talented and creative, and your art is a reflection of who you are. It's unique and beautiful, just like you."

You clung to him, the sincerity in his words slowly breaking through your walls. "I just want to feel like I'm enough," you whispered.

Han held you at arm's length, looking into your eyes. "You are more than enough. Your worth isn't defined by how perfect your art or writing is or how you compare to others. It's about the passion and love you put into what you do."

His words resonated with you, and you felt a sense of comfort and reassurance. Han's unwavering support and belief in you made a difference, and you realized that your insecurities didn't define you.

"And I didn't make that song to make you feel better...I made it so you could see just how much inspiration I find from you. Y/N I love you more than anything. So, I was over the moon when I wrote this. And even more elated when I got to use the words the love of my life wrote. That's only the demo..." He grins sheepishly. "I was thinking...it would sound cool if you could leave that poem as a voicemail. I could make it the outro of the song..."

You looked at him with wide eyes. "You mean it?"

"Of course I mean it baby. I mean... I know Stay speculates I'm in a relationship...it's been a year now so I feel like this would be a fun way of confirming that. And I want the world to hear the beautiful voice of my baby." He coos, squishing your cheeks.

You giggle and nod, as Han peppers kisses all over your face.

One evening, as you both sat on the couch, Han handed you a sketchbook he had bought for you. "I got this for you. I want you to fill it with whatever makes you happy. No pressure, just pure creativity. It doesn't even have to be art. Maybe you could write me more poems..."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you, Ji. For everything."

Han wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. "I'm always here for you. And for inspiration. Because you're my inspiration." He says nuzzling his nose against yours.

You leaned into him, feeling a sense of peace and contentment.

His inspiration. You thought.

What an amazing thing to be...

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING SEUNGKWAN INCLUDES…. — sfw

• he’s definitely the type of person to call you pookie.

• he uses the term “gyat” whenever he sees your butt. not in a sexual way, someone pls take away tiktok from him.

• his go to nickname for you is DEFINITELY boo — he thinks he’s soooo creative for this.

• he is constantly thinking of you. whenever he's buying groceries he always asks if you need something, before he makes plans with someone else he makes sure you don't want to hang out, or he thinks carefully about what he says to you incase he hurts your feelings with his jokes.

• he treats you like his personal diary. seungkwan was used to writing in his journal every night before you two started dating. you are the one person he truly feels "seen" with.

• y'all once had a phase in your relationship in which he would wake you up at the crack of dawn to exercise with him.

• one day you decided to drag him to a pilates class. he complained the entire way there, but ended up loving it. now it's HIM that drags you to the class.

• he makes sure you take your vitamins ! he's definitely the type to prioritize your health more than you do.

• if y'all aren't together for the day and you tell him you haven't eaten, there's definitely gonna be a food delivery at your door within the next hour or so.

• he's the type to get SLIGHTLY jealous, but after some reassuring he would let it go quickly.

• i'm ngl, he's not against being the big spoon, but he probably prefers little spoon tbh.

• he makes sure you know all the iconic korean songs word for word from back in the day. if you can't sing every single girl’s generation song start to finish with him, you're gonna get side eyed.

• whenever you two are separated because of touring or work, y'all are definitely the type of couple to FaceTime 24/7 and have meals together. you two also fall asleep while on the call.

• he was SO SO nervous when meeting your parents for the first time he thought he was going to pass out.

• he is NOT a morning person. he gets so sassy, sometimes you have to give him that mom look.

• seungkwan constantly praises you and makes sure you never doubt yourself.

• before you two started dating, it was actually really easy to make him flustered. he blushed with everything you did and every word you said. the rest of seventeen ended up having to play matchmaker because he was too shy to make a move.

• karaoke dates are a MUST !!!!

• y’all are the type of couple to go to disney with matching shirts and mickey mouse ears.

• he would try and teach you badminton, but gets frustrated and ends up just having you be his cute lil cheerleader on the sidelines.

• y’all typically always meet at a cafe to have a coffee or grab a bite on your lunch breaks.

• he has made it a tradition to sing you a ballad on your birthday. you look forward to it every year.

• he forces you to do face masks with him or indulge in self care nights. you don’t care though cause who can say no to a bubble bath with him.

• he would definitely pass the orange peel theory.

• you have a folder in your camera roll specifically dedicated to photos of him that would make good memes.

• you’re really close to both of his sisters and tend to go out on cute girls nights with them. sometimes seungkwan tries to worm his way along to make sure y’all aren’t talking shit about him lol.

• y’all have promise rings !!!

• he actually has your proposal planned down to the t. i’m talking ring, place, and moment.

• he’s such an active person that loves to do a bunch of activities, but it’s nice because it gets you out of the house.

• seungkwan is a person who constantly has to be doing something otherwise he feels unproductive so having you around definitely brings him down to earth. you’re the only person able to get him to relax.

• he always has a bunch of snacks on him so if you ever get hungry, don’t worry. you know who to ask.

• at the end of the day when y’all are cuddled up in bed together, you two typically watch dramas to fall asleep. it’s kind of difficult though because kwannie gets so into it and sometimes yells at the t.v :/

[bakubonez]

Snap out of it!

Katsuki Bakugo x oblivious! GN! Reader

Summary thing: Katsuki likes you and apparently you have no idea.

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Warnings: not proof read cuz I’m lazy, reader doesn’t know Katsuki likes them at all + they convince themselves he doesn’t lol, ambiguous ending, mostly focuses on Katsuki’s POV I think

You were an idiot. But Katsuki liked you regardless.

It was a problem, really. You’d weaseled your way into Katsuki’s group of friends, instantly charming everyone. He’d been more difficult to please, though. You’d been okay with it—you knew he’d come around eventually.

Which he did. Problem was, he’d come around and he’d fallen head over heels for you. Normally that wouldn’t be an issue, he could’ve just confessed or flirted with you.

Katsuki had decided to go with the method of dropping hints and flirting rather than straight up confessing to you. He wanted to test the waters first. There was no doubt in his mind that you’d like him; he’d seen the glances when you thought he wouldn’t notice, the little touches, your faint smile when he joined whatever you and his other friends were doing that day(after some pressure from Eijiro!). He knew there was no way it could possibly go wrong.

Little did he know, you were oblivious to his advances.

You constantly brushed his teasing remarks and flattery off as him being nice, not interested in jumping to the conclusion of him reciprocating your feelings in case you were wrong. You didn’t want to get your hopes up and your feelings hurt. So you ignored what he was doing, always somehow convincing yourself that the increase in your heart rate and the heat burning your skin when he made his stupid jokes and such was simply a trick of the mind. He didn’t like you. You just had to accept that fact and get on with it.

It was infuriating to Katsuki, though. Maybe infuriating isn’t the right word, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to be truly angered by you any more. Frustrating. There it was. You were unbelievably frustrating.

He adored you. Ever since the realisation of his feelings had dawned on him, he hadn’t been able to scrub any corner of his mind of you. You always lingered there. When he got bored in class he’d think of you, zoning out while the teacher at the front went on and on about something that clearly wasn’t anywhere near as relevant as you. He’d stumble across videos online that made him think of you, that made him think, ‘you’d like this’. Some of them would make it to you, but sometimes he’d already sent so many of them that day that he needed to save it to a little folder dedicated to you, to keep for when he needed an excuse to message you.

Katsuki hadn’t come to UA with the intention of making friends. But he had. And now he was on the complete other side of his initial promise—chasing not only a friend, but a romantic connection.

And so, the days went on where he’d shoot his shot and miss. He’d miss because you kept interfering. You kept brushing it off.

Eventually he resorted to telling Eijiro, whining and complaining to you about how stubborn and irritating you were right now, but also how much he’d come to treasure you. You’d become precious to him, nestled in your own little place in his heart. He was having a hard time trying to get over you. Maybe it was because he really didn’t want to.

At the end of the day, despite how much he complained about your oblivious nature, he couldn’t bring himself to scrap the future he’d carefully carved out in his mind for the two of you. Katsuki wanted those sweet, domestic moments that he would’ve ignored with anyone else but you. He wanted the less sweet ones, arguments and results of villain battles. All of it. He wanted all of it. He wanted all of you.

It didn’t matter to him what you thought a partner wouldn’t like in you. To him, there was nothing to dislike. The curve of your nose, the colour of your eyes, the texture of your skin, your laugh. Even the parts of you that you tried to hide, he loved all of it. He couldn’t imagine a time where he didn’t.

For now, though, he had to wait patiently for you to catch on, or for his self control to slip from him. He had to tell you the truth one day. You’d snap out of it.

Katsuki hoped it wouldn’t be too late by the time he did.

[neos127]

SHOW A LITTLE LOVING — SJY

sim jaeyun x fem!reader; wc. 1.2k genre. fluff+ fake dating to lovers cw. none! just some kissing notes. inspired by the hot tub scene in tatbilb!!

you didn’t know what came over you. the idea was probably stupid, fueled by your best friend minji who was convinced that jake sim had fallen for you.

fake dating came with it’s difficulties, one being not knowing when to call quits. you were ready to break off your deal with jake to make his ex, minjeong, jealous, not wanting to be dragged along on your school’s ski trip and see them together again. but jake insisted, wanting to continue the charade a little longer. unfortunately you couldn’t say no— or else you’d have to explain that the reason you wanted to end things was because you had fallen in love with your fake boyfriend.

but despite your doubts, jake might’ve felt the same way, and you were ready to find out.

as you walked outside towards the back of the ski lodge, your stomach twisted uncomfortably. your mouth dried up and you fidgeted with your hands as the boy you were looking for came into view. just as your friend predicted, he was sitting in the hot tub all alone. his eyes were on the water, seeming bored as he made random small splashes with his hands.

as soon as you walked up to the hot tub, jake met your eyes.

“hi.” you said softly before taking off your slippers and climbing over the ledge. you sat on top of the hot tub, letting your legs submerge into the illuminated blue water. the lights of the tub reflected on jake’s handsome face and you felt your breath catch in your throat. it also didn’t help that he wasn’t wearing a shirt- it was the first time you had seen him without one.

“hey, y/l/n.” jake mumbled, a lazy smile appearing on his lips. a giddy smile came over yours and you looked down to avoid his gaze, feeling insanely flustered already.

“you totally ditched me this whole trip. could’ve taught me how to ski.” you spoke up after a few seconds, looking at jake’s face again.

“oh, so i’m supposed to be all friendly with you even though you didn’t even bother to sit with me on the bus ride here?” jake scoffed, causing you to wince a bit.

“you got to sit with minjeong. isn’t the whole point of us doing this fake dating thing is to make her jealous and bring you guys back together?” you shrugged, lightly kicking the water. jake lightly rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall of the hot tub.

“y/n, how have you not figured it out yet?” jake asked sounding slightly frustrated. your heart began to pound in your chest, the sound drowning out the jets of the tub. was he insinuating what you were thinking?

“what are you talking about?” you raised an eyebrow, watching as jake glanced over to the snow on the hill beside the lodge. suddenly he seemed nervous.

“i wanted to sit with you, y/n. i even packed those rice balls you love so much.” jake replied, playing with the water again. you mulled over his words, realizing what he had said.

“wait- you did? but the store they’re from is all the way across town.” you said, surprised that he had thought to do something so nice for you. he seemed to care way more than you thought.

“exactly. so if i drove all the way across town to get you something that you like then that means…” jake trailed off, moving his hands around dramatically.

that’s when it finally clicked in your head. holy crap, jake sim liked you romantically.

you bit your cheek to hide a smile, mentally reminding yourself to thank minji for forcing you to meet jake outside. you had finally gotten the boy even if it had taken a few mental breakdowns and a lot of sleepless nights. you wanted jake and he wanted you back— the feeling was euphoric.

“it means…that you really like salmon onigiri?” you teased, but jake was sure that you were one hundred percent serious. he scoffed and playfully splashed water towards you.

“you’re impossible.” jake groaned, shaking his head. you giggled, slowly moving your legs under the water.

“i’m sorry i didn’t sit next to you in the bus. i promise i’ll sit with you on the ride back.” you said after a minute, causing jake to look back up at you. his eyes were filled with such intensity that it scared you, but it also gave you the courage to make the first move.

you took off the jacket that you wore, the one that covered your sleepwear consisting of your tank top and shorts.

“i didn’t bring a bathing suit.” you mumbled once you submerged your body into the water, shivering slightly at the difference of temperature. the warm water felt amazing on your skin, a contrast to the crisp winter air. you swam over to jake, stopping when you were right in front of him.

“what are you doing?” he asked, a small smirk on his face.

“just want to be close to you, that’s all.” you replied, shrugging slightly. that caused jake to smile, the smile that you loved so much because it made his whole face light up and he just looked so pretty.

the boy brought you into his arms, lifting your body up to sit on his lap. you sighed at the contact, suddenly feeling even warmer then when you had first entered the hot tub.

“there’s no one like you, princess.” jake murmured, leaning his forehead against yours. you let out a nervous giggle, the action suddenly cut off by jake who decided to initiate the long awaited kiss. it wasn’t your first together, but this time it was real.

jake groaned into your mouth, the sound going straight to your gut. as you ran your hands through his soft brown locks, you came to the conclusion that you never wanted to let jake out of your life again. you would need to be six feet under to let minjeong try to steal him with her slimy hands— she simply didn’t deserve him. she never did.

jake tilted his head to deepen the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you impossibly closer. he ran his tongue along your bottom lip, forcing you to open your mouth up to him. due to jake being the first boy you had ever kissed, the feeling was very foreign to you but it sure did feel good.

as soon as his tongue began to trace the inside of your mouth, you let out a low whine before pulling away in shock. you covered your mouth with your hand and looking at jake with wide eyes. the joy laughed at your expression before taking your hand and placing a soft kiss on it.

“you okay?” he asked, looking at you with the most loving gaze in his eyes. minji had been right all along- jake really had looked at you as if you were his whole world. it was hard to believe that you hadn’t realized it earlier, you’d been oblivious for a while.

“yeah, im great actually. i definitely want to do that again—but not in a public place.” you replied, placing a hand over jake’s mouth when he leaned in to kiss you again before you could even finish your sentence.

“there’s no one around.” he said in a sing-song voice, nuzzling his forehead against yours. you couldn’t hold back your giggles, feeling insanely giddy and love sick at the moment.

“another time, jake. i promise.” you mumbled, looking into his pretty eyes. the boy nodded with a small smile on his face before quickly placing a kiss on your nose.

“you better keep that promise, princess.”

[anashins]

Snow in London

Pairing: idol!Jaehyun x escort!reader

Genre: fluff, romance, smut

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: Jaehyun has to spend Christmas alone in London and figures that with money, you can buy anything - even company to make him feel less alone.

A/N: Merry Christmas guys - this is my gift for you! Have happy holidays and enjoy! (You might get confused as the story unfolds, but keep reading, it will all make sense, trust me)

A bottle of wine and an escort.

If two weeks ago someone had told Jaehyun that this was how he was going to spend this year’s Christmas, he would have called that person a fool. Usually, he spent it among his family, friends and members, and everyone knew. Very cozy and comfortable, only with the people closest to him.

Now, Jaehyun himself was the person who looked like a fool. 

It was Christmas Eve and he was sitting in a hotel room on the other side of the world - London, to be exact - far away from all the people dear to him. If only he hadn’t accepted this campaign shoot for this certain luxury brand, he would be home by now, fast asleep after having enjoyed good food with his family.

But fate had other things in store for him when it was announced this morning that all domestic and international flights were canceled due to the heavy snowstorm that would last a couple of days. Jaehyun knew it was his responsibility as a global ambassador, but he had really begged to not accept this job in case something like this would happen. It didn’t usually snow in the UK, so his team had just shrugged his concerns off.

But somehow, he had sensed it, and now he was locked up here with nowhere else to go.

When Jaehyun looked out of the window, he saw white everywhere with not a single vehicle passing by in the streets, and the snow wouldn’t stop falling. He doubted he could take a flight tomorrow or the day after that. Or the day after that even. It was frustrating. 

With a ‘thud’, he let himself fall back onto the bed. At least he was in a high class hotel close to Hyde Park and the staff had invited him to go to the bar with them, but Jaehyun wasn’t in the mood for company now. Well, at least not the company of so many people he didn’t know well enough. 

Why an escort then? 

Jaehyun didn’t want to spend Christmas Eve entirely alone, but he also didn’t want the commitment of having the person around until the next morning with the obligation of getting something physical out of it. He would rather leave it open. Or even worse, he didn’t want to take the flight back with that person and work together again depending on how this night would end. So that was why the staff was ruled out and the hotel employees as well just because they were short handed during the holidays.

Jaehyun just didn’t want to be alone on Christmas Eve and he had the money for it.

The fact that he had indeed never done something like this before was mirrored in how his heart jumped the moment he heard a knock on the door. Luckily, it was just room service bringing the wine he had ordered shortly before, leaving him all alone again with a simple “Merry Christmas”. 

If this Christmas Eve was going to turn merry for Jaehyun, he also didn’t know yet.

The second time he heard a knock, he opened the door even more nervous to find you standing in front of him whose picture he had only briefly seen on the website this morning.

The first thing he noticed about you was how much prettier you were in real life. If he were being honest, you didn’t look like your photos at all as in fact, he found you more beautiful in person and with your bright aura, his nervousness directly dropped a bit. 

Perhaps, he had also not looked at the photos properly, because he wanted to leave it open whether there would be intimate contact at all, and there were not many working today. In the end, he preferred any company over none at all and this was a time where he couldn’t be picky much since he also didn’t want to reduce a person to their outward appearance only and wanted to talk to them too.

So Jaehyun was pleasantly surprised to see you, a pretty, young woman with a nice energy, standing in front of him. 

The second thing he noticed was that you must be cold, because despite your body being covered in a thick black puffer jacket and a pair of black pants that ended in boots, there were remnants of snow everywhere on your body, and since the flakes were melting by room temperature, it looked like you had just run through the rain with your face uncovered also.

For a special day with special services, if Jaehyun were to be blunt, you were dressed and styled quite ordinary - which he didn’t mind at all though since you were only going to stay in the room anyway, he had dropped the fact beforehand! He just couldn’t help but to notice the great difference in the sexy clothings and heavy makeup you had worn on your online pis and the way you were styled now. 

But he’d rather have you warm and cozy than sexy during such a weather, he wasn’t one to pay much attention to outer clothing anyway when most of the time he was wearing lounge pants himself. Actually Jaehyun felt really relieved since he also hadn’t dressed up much for this occasion, wearing his slacks and black shirt at most. 

“Good evening. It’s cold outside, come in.”

Jaehyun opened the door widely, and the third thing he noticed about you was how good you smelled when you walked past him with a light,

“Good evening. Thank you.”

You opened your jacket and Jaehyun, like the gentleman he was, helped you get out of it and hung it up on the wardrobe. When he turned back around, he observed you standing in the room, wrapping your arms around yourself and trembling with your light clothes since your upper body was only covered in a blouse.

“Didn’t you use the shuttle I ordered?” he asked.

“You ordered a shuttle for me? Oh…” You shook your head. “I used the subway and walked all the way from Oxford Circus to here.”

That was why you looked like you had walked through the snowstorm - because you literally did. “I paid for a shuttle service straight to the hotel too, no?” Jaehyun was sure this had been listed on the bill as an extra service for which he had already paid.

“I didn’t get the notice, she didn’t tell me. Only the hotel, floor and room number. There are no cars or services running, so….”

Suddenly, Jaehyun felt bad. He assumed ‘she’ was the operator in the company, something like a manager. “Take off your clothes.” 

“What?”

He was confused that you had turned confused, so you were looking at each other, equally puzzled. “I want to hang them up, so you don’t have to walk around with wet clothes and risk getting a cold. And I want you to take a shower please, to warm yourself up.” 

You blinked a few times, but then replied, “Oh! No, I was only taken aback a bit…”

“Don’t worry.” Jaehyun finally realized what had run through your head. “I’m not like that.”

Even though you only nodded as a reply, he clearly saw how relieved you were, and he started questioning whether you knew what you were actually here for as you appeared a bit insecure about this entire situation. Even though it might not happen right away or at all, the job description was very clear and you weren’t a newbie if he had to believe the website. But Jaehyun shrugged it off as this was a special circumstance and day you might not get into often as well.

Jaehyun then sent you to the bathroom with information on where to find the towels and a bathrobe. He just couldn’t live with the thought of having a woman come over despite the weather and dealing with the consequences.

Rummaging through his luggage, he found a simple white long sleeve and checkered lounge pants that must be way too big for you, but he figured it was better than leaving you in a bathrobe or making you wear your own clothes again before they had fully dried.

When you walked out of the bathroom approximately half an hour later, with semi-dried hair, a bathrobe way too big for you and wearing no makeup at all anymore, the fourth thing Jaehyun noticed about you was that you were an ordinary young woman who he could have also met on the streets or in a club, not someone he paid to spend a few hours with.

And if he were to say it out loud, he wouldn’t want you to misunderstand this. There was no negative connotation with this thought, especially not in regard to your job which services he was making use of himself. It just dawned on him that you were two ordinary people in private, alone on Christmas Eve. 

In the end, when it came down to loneliness, you were both the same.

“You’re so kind to me,” you stated when Jaehyun handed you his clothes.

“I figured someone who has to work on Christmas Eve deserves more kindness than usual.”

“It was okay,” you simply stated and returned to the bathroom while it echoed, “There weren’t too many rude customers today, thank god.”

Jaehyun tilted his head in question over this cryptic statement. Had you just used plural? Oh my, how many customers did you take in a day? Was Christmas Eve really that busy? But then he decided to brush it off. It was none of his business anyway, although it remained in the back of his head, itching him a bit. 

While he walked over to the table where he had also already prepared two glasses and opened the wine, you left the bathroom again, now fully dressed in his clothes.

Jaehyun attempted really hard not to look up and to stare, so he tried to catch a glimpse or two from the corner of his eyes while filling the wine glasses. Under any other circumstances, this would have been an awkward first date, and even though it wasn’t since he paid for your company, pretending to have it be one made it a little bit easier for him, he had to admit.

“Wine?” he offered, and he perceived in the way the look in your eyes changed that you very much welcomed this ice breaker.

“Thank you.”

Alcohol was not only very popular for making your tongue loose, which was why, two glasses of wine for each of you later, your outer clothes had become very loose as well and eventually landed on the floor next to the bed.

“You know,” you murmured in between kisses before Jaehyun slid his tongue along your jaw and only came to a stop with it by the side of your neck, which made you giggle. “I usually don’t do this the first time I meet someone… At least not directly.”

Jaehyun pricked up his ears, but didn’t stop nibbling on the soft skin. “Oh? But then, what do you usually do upon first meeting someone?”

“Usually we go out, to a restaurant or something. And if the vibe is right, one thing leads to another…”

Of course he knew about the fact that high quality escort services didn’t come with short lived physical intimacy only. But there was only so much he was able to do in such a situation, and now he was truly wondering if he should have ordered a room service meal first since he hadn’t even been fixated on physical contact only. It was his first time too, so he still felt a bit lost - and guilty he wasn’t able to offer more.

But he was just so attracted to you which was even more fueled by the bit of alcohol in his system now, and upon the first time he had leaned in to kiss you only moments before this, he knew you felt the same about him. Which was good! After all, he couldn’t imagine getting intimate with someone who had to pretend to like him for his sake and for the money.

“I would have taken you out first too, but during this snowstorm…”

He didn’t come to end his sentence, because you cupped his face and pulled him up, so that you were facing each other again, and you reassured him with your thumb stroking tenderly over his warm cheek, “I don’t mind this time.”

“Good.”

And with that, the last word was spoken just as the last pieces of clothing, your underwear, found their way onto the floor too. 

When Jaehyun was running his fingers through your hair, caressing the sensitive skin on your shoulder with his warm lips, he noticed that, even after showering, you still smelled as good as in the moment when you first had walked through the door. You weren’t wearing any heavy perfume or another scent. This was just you, the natural you. He liked it.

You were sitting on his lap and held onto his strong upper arms for support as he went lower with his lips to the area around your cleavage. Your teeth sank into the flesh of your bottom lip when he bit into your nipple, making you gasp eventually. You felt him smile against your breast, and, almost as if he wanted to apologize, he licked over the spot and then gently placed a kiss on it. 

When he dedicated his mouth to your other mound though, he didn’t use his teeth anymore, but only his tongue. And a few moments later, you let your head roll back as he sucked on nibbled on that spot, causing sensations to run all through your body and your thighs to clasp around him even stronger as though you wanted more of him too. And you actually did, oh how much you did!

But a familiar tone made you both turn your head to the desk simultaneously where your phone was lightening up and vibrating. Who would interrupt you at such a time?

“Just ignore it,” you told him, and he nodded deliberately.

“Very well.”

He grabbed you by your bum and with a gasp, you then were flipped around and fell backwards onto the mattress with a giggle. When your phone had exactly stopped ringing, you couldn't tell in the end, because you long had Jaehyun’s fingers inside of you.

What he thought when he was pleasuring you with his hand, wasn’t only how hot you looked as a writhing and whiny mess under him from whom he couldn’t avert his eyes, but also how fun it was, because there was a smile showing on your face every now and then.

Jaehyun usually never did one night stands, though there had been a handful of ones throughout the years. But these girls, he had talked to before, even in a drunken state only. That he just requested the company of someone and they would actually match so well from the first moment on like with you, he hadn’t expected at all.

His fingers were drenched when he pulled them out of you after noticing how tight you had gotten around him due to your arousal, but he was determined to prolong the act. After all, you had the whole night and he could still sleep on the plane the next day - if they would run again - which he doubted. And a part of him already thought further and made plans to book you instead again.

“Look at me.”

Jaehyun didn’t know why exactly, but he just wanted that. It made him feel warm around his chest. And he could need a little warmth right now when it was so cold and lonely outside. He hoped you did too. 

Your eyes were indeed warm when you looked at each other, so he couldn’t help but lift his free hand and brush some streaks of your hair out of your face. There were worse ways to spend Christmas, he had to admit. Actually, this Christmas had turned really nice at this point.

Jaehyun got pulled out of his thoughts though when he felt the palms of your hands in his nether regions, first stroking along his inner thighs, then wrapping around his full length. No way this was happening. The unexpected sensation made him fold, and he had a really hard time propping his weight up against his elbows to hold himself in position when it all felt so good.

“You like that?” you whispered into his ear with a low voice that turned him on so much.

“Just keep going and I won’t be able to guarantee anything.”

With a brush over his tip, you wiped away his droplet of precum. You then retracted your hand to lead your stained fingers to your mouth and slid them in without breaking eye contact with him. This way you let him know that he nevertheless would end up very lucky this christmas. 

Even your phone vibrating again couldn’t interrupt the mood since you both quietly agreed to ignore it before he reached for a condom on the nightstand to prepare himself. There still were a few hours of Christmas Eve left, a few hours where you could still try out stuff. Right now, you both just needed to get it off.

Jaehyun wondered if there was something you absolutely wouldn’t do or liked to do, but there was no room to think about it much anyway when you were lying under him, completely naked, a light sheen of sweat covering most parts of your body, and your facial expression welcoming him with your lips slightly parted. 

Could he imagine a better gift for his situation? Absolutely not.

He parted your thighs with his knees when he sat in front of you and guided himself in. It was easy with almost no strength required, that was how wet he had already gotten you through his fingerwork. Grabbing your thighs to your left and right, Jaehyun slid you along the mattress closer to him so that you were eventually fully sheathed inside and stuck skin on skin.

You spread out your hands when he started to pull out, then pushed in again, and with every time, he added a little more force. Your eyes rolled to the ceiling as your fingers entangled with the sheet to your left and right, and you suddenly weren’t mad at your parents anymore for leaving you alone on Christmas, so that you had decided to still work and practically spend it with a stranger. You could imagine having a worse celebration than this one right here. 

It had been quite a while since you last had sex, and you weren’t sure it had ever been this good or if it were only the circumstances and you were just so into each other - which was so rare! But in the end, it didn’t really matter. If the first blind encounter was already this good, there for sure would be a second one!

You felt your climax nearing the moment he picked up his speed, and although you were able to cum like this, you still appreciated that he changed the position from kneeling in front of you to lying on top of you. It felt good to wrap your legs around his middle, and feel him, every stroke, no matter how hard or long, even more intense.

He was breathing into your ear, and at one point even kissed your earlobe, then your cheek. It was intimate and cute at the same time, and he eventually hovered over you with his face, so you spread out your arms to welcome him with a kiss on your mouth, and then hugged him close to your body.

His breathing turned irregular and it wasn’t in sync with his thrusts anymore, that was how you could foretell that at any second, he would cum. With your fingers grabbing into his hair, partly gently, partly determined, you signalized him that it was alright to let go, and that you would follow too.

As though he had been holding in until you gave such kind of approval, he came the moment he slid back inside you with a low groan right beside your ear. You witnessed his breathing turning regular and slower and him gaining back full control of his body, because he did not directly pull out of you after he was done.

Instead, he continued moving for as long as he was still able to and eventually got you off with his hands so that you shook in his arms and he was now the one having to hold you through your climax.

“Best Christmas Eve ever,” you eventually breathed when he let go of you and rolled to one side of the now messy bed. “That was a nice gift.”

“Right back at you,” Jaehyun said.

With a look at you, he observed how you tried to grab the blanket to wrap it around your naked body to keep yourself warm. He knew a better method though. 

Jaehyun moved to your side of the bed and laid down, but making sure to have closed his arms around you before to pull you down with him right onto his chest. For a moment, he was worried that it was too much and you would free yourself again. But as he felt your muscles relaxing and you eventually put an arm around him too, he was very much relieved.

“Why are you spending Christmas alone?” you eventually asked him after a few moments of silence. “She didn’t tell me.”

Ah, so details truly weren’t passed on upon request. “My flight back home got canceled due to the snowstorm, but I didn’t want to be all alone.” Jaehyun didn’t know whether he could ask this question back, but he did nonetheless. He figured if you didn’t want to or weren’t allowed to share private info, you would tell him immediately.

“Oh, you wanted to spend it among your family too but they live abroad?” He wanted to explain that he lived abroad too, but your answer caught his attention more, “My parents suddenly decided they would rather spend two weeks on a cruise in the Caribbean sea instead of celebrating with me, so I was alone too.” 

“I understand that.” If he would have been left alone on Christmas, since it was a holiday spent among the family in the UK, he would have rather worked too, Jaehyun thought to himself. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Yeah, that’s why.”

It was cold outside, but their bodies and hearts were warm, not only because of them sharing their physical warmth, but mostly because they were not alone anymore. 

So it was an unspoken agreement that their encounter wouldn’t end here. Or at night. Probably only the next morning. And even then, you both wondered if it actually would when it felt this good.

“Should I order room service?” Jaehyun asked instead.

You nodded with excitement. “Actually, I’m quite hungry.”

“Yeah, me too.” He laughed and stretched out his arm to reach for the phone, but you both heard a knock on the door before he could call anyone.

“Did you already order something before?” you asked out of curiosity, but Jaehyun shook his head. 

“Maybe someone from my team?”

You frowned. “Team…?”

But Jaehyun didn’t see it as he had already jumped out of bed to throw on some light clothes so that it wouldn’t get that embarrassing to open the door to one of the staff.

Standing in front of him was no familiar staff at all though.

“Good evening, here I am.”

Jaehyun was flabbergasted. Had it been a glass of wine too much? Because in front of him stood the woman whose exact pictures he had seen online this morning, he now remembered clearly. Not only was she wearing the exact same clothes, but also the same heavy makeup. No doubt, he wasn’t dreaming or imagining.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” she continued. “The shuttle you ordered couldn’t get through, I was waiting for so long. I ordered a taxi from Oxford Circus instead and that eventually got stuck. I had to walk the rest of the way, but now I’m here… What is it? Don’t you want to invite me in?”

“Pardon me… what?!”

On the other side of the room, you had finally picked up the phone call from your friend who had just called for the third time.

“Hey! You can’t imagi-... What do you mean? How can he still be waiting when I am currently with him? Yes, the guy you set me up on a blind date with, he’s here,” you defended yourself over the line, then paused. “What do you mean? I am in the room on the fifth floor, the exact room you told me.”

You looked over to the man who had just closed the door again and your eyes locked with undefinable gazes. 

“This is the fourth floor.”

Then, you both asked the other as realization dawned at the same time,

“Who are you?”