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happy74827 · 9 months ago

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Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

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rafecameronssl4t · 6 months ago

Note

IM BEGGING FOR MORE FRATBOY!RAFE CAMERON PLEASEEEE💔

Trap Queen || Frat boy!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: hehehe missed writing frat boy!rafe also had no idea what to title this so I thought this song kinda matched idk

Warnings: mentions of sex, idk if there’s anything else

Word count: 2,042

MASTERLIST (frat boy!rafe x reader au masterlist)

“I have no idea what her problem is with me,” you mutter under your breath, your eyes flicking toward Jada, who’s glaring at you like she’d love nothing more than to see you vanish. Her gaze lingers, intense and filled with something close to hatred.

You turn back to Rafe, irritation bubbling up as you try to make sense of the tension hanging in the air. Rafe glances over lazily, his eyes briefly scanning Jada before he scoffs, almost amused by the situation. He leans back casually, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between you and tossing it into his mouth without a second thought.

“Probably ‘cause she was trying to get into my pants before we started dating,” he mumbles through a mouthful, barely caring to mask the indifference in his voice. Your body stiffens, eyes widening as you process what he just said. “Are you serious?” you snap, crossing your arms and staring at him, bewildered.

“And you didn’t think I should know this?” Rafe slows his chewing, his brow arching slightly as he swallows. His reaction is calm, almost too calm.“Didn’t think it was worth mentioning. She’s irrelevant babe,” he shrugs, his voice annoyingly nonchalant. “I don’t give a fuck about her.”

You turn to look at Jada again, and this time she isn’t even pretending to hide the jealousy etched across her face. She’s whispering furiously to her best friend, the sorority president, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe with an almost desperate need for attention. The way her eyes follow Rafe, hungry and spiteful, makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

She’s clearly still bitter, and her gaze shifts between you and Rafe like she’s daring you to flaunt what she can’t have. It’s more than just resentment—it’s envy, glaringly obvious, and you can feel her simmering frustration from across the room. Frustration swells inside you, and without thinking, you reach for Rafe’s hand, gripping it firmly.

“Let’s get out of here,” you murmur, not wanting to feed into Jada’s petty game, but unable to shake the discomfort gnawing at you. Before Rafe can say anything, you grab his hand, pulling him up from the couch. His surprise shows for a second, but he follows your lead, letting you drag him away.

“Fuck off,” Rafe growls at the sound of a knock on his door, still half-asleep and annoyed as he shifts under the blankets. His arm gently moves you off him, and you let out a soft whine, instantly missing the warmth and security of his body pressed against yours. He sighs as the knocking persists, louder this time, more insistent.

“I’m coming!” he yells, frustration evident in his tone as he clumsily pulls his boxers up his legs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He’s barely awake, his movements sluggish, but the incessant knocking has him on edge. Just as Rafe reaches for the door, he pauses, his hand hovering over the knob.

A frown crosses his face. It wouldn’t be any of his frat brothers—they’d all gone home for the long weekend. Suspicion sharpens his senses, and he leans toward the peephole, squinting as he peers through it. His gut twists the moment he sees who’s on the other side, Alice, your sorority president, and Jada.

“Shit,” he mutters, backing away from the door. He hurries back to the bed, his hand reaching for your shoulder as he shakes you gently. “Babe, hey. Wake up,” he whispers urgently, trying to keep calm as you groan, still half-lost in sleep. “Jada and Alice are outside,” he says, his voice low but urgent.

The words barely sink in before you’re wide awake, panic flooding your system. “What?” you whisper, your voice strained with disbelief as you sit up, your heart racing. In an instant, you’re scrambling to grab your clothes, your mind spinning. “What are they doing here?” you hiss, pulling your jeans up your legs in a rush.

Your fingers fumble as you try to fasten them, your breath quickening with every second. Rafe’s hands are already on your back, tying up the straps of your top with quick, precise movements. “Fucked if I know,” he mutters, glancing toward the door. The knocking continues, sharper and more demanding this time, as Jada’s voice echoes through the room.“Rafe, open up! We know you’re in there!”

Jada calls out, her tone laced with impatience, as if she’s holding some kind of authority over him.“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, cursing the situation. The last thing you need is Jada and Alice catching you here—especially like this. Your mind races with the possibilities of why they’ve shown up now, of all times. Rafe turns to you, his hands resting on your arms as he tries to steady you.

His eyes are calm but serious. “Just hide in the bathroom. I’ll deal with them,” he says firmly, his voice low and reassuring despite the situation. You nod, heart pounding in your chest, and quickly dart toward the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind you. Locking it, you press your ear to the wood, your breath held as you strain to hear what’s happening.

You hear Rafe sigh heavily before he opens the door, his voice low and tense as he greets Jada and Alice. The muffled sound of their conversation seeps through the door, but it’s hard to make out the words clearly. Your stomach twists as you wait, hoping that whatever they want, Rafe can get rid of them without making things worse.

Rafe opens the door just enough to stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a bored, unimpressed look on his face. He eyes Jada and Alice, his expression indifferent as he sizes them up. “Can I help you?” he asks dryly, making it clear from the start that he has no interest in whatever they’re about to say.

Jada and Alice exchange a quick glance, their irritation barely hidden beneath thin smiles. Alice, with her usual fake sweetness, steps forward, her voice dripping with insincerity. “Is Y/n here by any chance?” she asks, flashing Rafe the overly saccharine smile she gives to everyone. He sees right through it—he knows exactly how two-faced she really is.

Rafe lets out a short, amused snort, crossing his arms. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he replies with a smirk, clearly enjoying himself. Jada opens her mouth to say something, but he cuts her off before she can get a word in. “No, she’s not here. Why do you even care?” He raises an eyebrow, his voice sharp with challenge.

Alice, not backing down, continues with the same fake concern. “She wasn’t in her room while we were doing our rounds last night, and her roommate said she never came back,” she explains, though her tone lacks genuine worry. Rafe can barely stop himself from rolling his eyes. It’s clear they’re just fishing for information, and their excuse is weak at best.

“What, you have curfews on a Friday night?” Rafe deadpans, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He watches as the annoyance flickers across their faces, and he takes pleasure in knowing he’s getting under their skin. Alice forces a tight-lipped smile, her patience clearly wearing thin.

“Yeah, to make sure everyone is home safe and sound,” she says, her voice still maintaining that fake sweetness, though Rafe can hear the underlying frustration. “Right, sure,” Rafe mutters, clearly not buying it. He shifts his weight and straightens up, his disinterest obvious. “Well, like I said, she’s not here,” he says flatly.

The two girls stand in tense silence for a moment. Rafe can see a flicker of something—perhaps jealousy or frustration—behind Jada’s eyes, and it intrigues him. He watches as Alice turns, clearly ready to leave this awkward encounter behind, but Jada’s sudden outburst catches her off guard.

“What do you even see in her, anyway?” Her sudden outburst catches Alice by surprise, and she glances back at Jada with wide eyes. Rafe raises an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by her boldness. “Jada, let’s just go. She’s not here,” Alice mutters, her hand gently squeezing Jada’s arm, as if trying to ground her. Rafe can’t resist interjecting. “Yeah, Jada. She’s not here,” he mocks, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans casually against the doorframe.

Rafe’s disdain for Jada is palpable, and he relishes the chance to get under her skin. The flush of anger spreads quickly across her cheeks, her fists clenching at her sides as if holding back an explosion of frustration. The heat radiates off her in waves, her glare sharp and unyielding, her eyes narrowing with contempt.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” she snaps, her voice bitter, teetering on the edge of desperation. Her gaze burns into him, full of resentment. “You think you can just parade around with her like she’s some prize to be won. What makes her so special?”

Rafe meets her gaze head-on, completely unfazed. He tilts his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “Why are you so obsessed with my fucking girlfriend, Jada?” His voice cuts through the tension like a blade, catching her off guard for just a second. She falters, her posture stiffening at the unexpected challenge.

“This is clearly between you and me, so leave Y/n out of it,” Rafe continues, his tone sharp and unwavering. He steps closer, his expression darkening with warning. “You got a problem with me? Fine. But don’t drag her into whatever this is.”Jada’s eyes flash with frustration, her lips tightening as she struggles to maintain her composure.

She clearly wasn’t expecting Rafe to call her out so directly, and the protectiveness in his voice stings more than she wants to admit. “You think you can just blow me off like I’m nothing?” she hisses, her voice trembling slightly. “I see how you look at her, how you act like she’s so perfect, like she’s better than everyone else.” There’s a bitterness in her words, a jealousy she’s no longer able to hide.

Rafe raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “If you think this is about anything more than your own jealousy, you’re delusional,” he says bluntly. His tone is calm, almost amused, as if he’s thoroughly enjoying watching her squirm. “If you’ve got some fantasy that I ever wanted anything to do with you, that’s on you, not me.”

“Get over yourself. I don’t want you, and I never fucking did,” Jada opens her mouth, clearly intending to argue, but no words come out. For a moment, she’s frozen, her face a mixture of shock and hurt, as if she never expected him to be so blunt. The silence stretches, heavy and uncomfortable. Rafe leans back against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a lazy air of indifference. He knows he’s won.

“Why don’t you take your little jealousy trip somewhere else?” he says with a bored tone, as if she were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. His words only fuel her fury, but he doesn’t care—he’s already dismissed her in his mind. Jada’s fists tremble at her sides, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

She glares at him one last time before spinning on her heel and storming off, her heels clicking angrily against the floor. Alice glances at Rafe for a moment, but she’s smart enough not to say anything. She shoots Rafe a scowl that could cut through steel, her frustration evident. “Leave Y/n alone. Don’t test me,” Rafe warns, his tone lowering to a menacing growl.

There’s no way he’ll allow them to interfere in your life, not when they’re so clearly motivated by envy. Alice opens her mouth, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but she hesitates, measuring the threat in his eyes. After a moment, she seems to reconsider, her expression darkening with resignation. With a heavy sigh, she shakes her head and turns on her heel, hastily following Jada down the hallway. Rafe watches them go, a sense of satisfaction washing over him.

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seung-mong · 10 months ago

Text

everyone adores you (i hate that i do too) - kim seungmin

includes: seungmin x reader, friends to enemies to strangers to friends to lovers?? (kinda academic rivals vibe) college au, soft dom! seungie, everyone knows they r in love except them, kinda slow burn? idk, fluff, angst, quick vanilla smut scene at the end, unprotected sex, possessive seungmin, creampie oopsie woopsie, felix is lowk seungmin's downfall lmao

a/n: the people have chosen, thank u for those who voted on the poll!! i know this is so ridiculously late but ive been in a writer's funk lately and ive just been so unmotivated #rant anyway i hope you guys like this one:') chan x hybrid felix x reader up next?? :00

wc: 12k YAPPING ofc my longest fic is of my husband #seungminlover #myMan

"there's nothing i can do for you, mr. kim. you failed to submit the third reflection essay. i have been considerate with your other late submissions..." the middle aged professor sighs, bringing a hand to his forehead and massaging his temples in frustration.

seungmin's hands wrap tighter around the strap of his bag, nylon almost burning against his palm due to the friction. "mr. park," he almost whines, leaning forward in his chair.

seungmin's desperate. he needs to pass this class, a prerequisite to all of his majors. he'll be damned if he takes his classes later than everyone else. "please, there must be something i can do. anything for extra credit. i really really need to pass this class." his voice slightly breaks, so close to tears. he can feel the red hot embarrassment that washes over him at the thought of having to explain why he cant enlist in the same classes as his friends.

he's never gonna hear the end of it when he tells his parents, always hard on his ass about biting off more than he can chew and he's always shrugged them off. how is everything so different now? in highschool he was juggling acads, being president of the student council, being in choir, dance, band, and the debate team. and now? four classes and a stupid glee club and hes falling behind.

his worst fear.

the older man swallows thickly, obviously uncomfortable at his student's sudden show of vulnerability. "mr. kim, i really want to help you. but im afraid there's no extra work i can give you to help you raise your grade.

seungmin shakes his head, slumping deep in his seat.

"normally i'd offer that you could check some papers and-"

"i'll do it!" seungmin yells, almost jumping out of his seat.

"but another student has already offered to be my teaching assistant for this term for extra credit as well.... unless you could convince them to split the workload... id consider raising your grade."

"sir, anything! who do i have to convince?" seungmin lets out a sigh of relief. and he thought all hope was lost.

"miss y/l/n. do you know her?"

fuck. all hope is lost.

you huff as you push open the heavy metal doors to your apartment building, canvas bag filled to the brim with papers you're supposed to check. the weight is heavy on your shoulder, strap digging uncomfortably into your skin. the sting lingers as you waddle over to your apartment locker, dropping the bag as you dig into your coat pocket for your keys.

"oh, y/n! im glad i caught you." you turn around to see a kind face smiling at you from the foot of the stairs, long blonde hair tied somewhat neatly to keep strands away from his neck. stubborn clumps of hair fall over his forehead, sticking to the skin in a thin sheen of sweat.

"hyunjin?" you squeal, leaving all your bags right there on the floor as you run towards your childhood friend. your arms wrap around his neck as he laughs, arms coming up to wrap around your waist. you nearly knock him off his feet from the force that you throw yourself at him, but he cant blame you. it has been way too long.

"but... what are you doing here? i thought you were still in paris?" you chuckle, breathless as you pull apart from him.

"non!," he teases, but his smile quickly shifts. "due to some, ah- unfortunate circumstances, i had to return home a little earlier than i had planned," he shrugs, grabbing your arm and hooking it with his.

"oh cut the bullshit, hwang." you laugh, pulling him towards your locker. "tell me what happened," you groan, bending down to pick up your bag. hyunjin, ever the gentleman, quickly reacts from beside you, taking it away from you before slinging it over his own shoulder. "tell me what really happened, hm? it's me." you huff, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

he smiles sadly at you, shaking his head. he knows he cant lie to you. "how about we catch up over a cup of coffee, huh? my, ive been looking all over campus for you and when we finally meet after three years you dont even invite me in?" he pouts at you.

you roll your eyes at his dramatics. nice to know he hasnt changed that about himself. dare you say paris has only fed his dramatic flare? "let's go have some coffee somewhere else then, my apartment's kinda messy right now. oh! have you told felix you're back? you guys are... okay now, right?" you're careful to watch his expression at the mention of his past lover.

"no, he doesnt know im home. it kinda defeats the whole purpose of the surprise, you know?" he retorts, watching you with a fond smile as you shove your phone and keys back into your pockets. "and yes. felix and i are alright, thank you for asking."

"well, i'm sure he'd love to see you again. i know where he's working. maybe we could drop by for some drinks?"

hyunjin hums thoughtfully at that, chuckling a bit once you push open the damned metal door. "i guess it wouldnt hurt to say hello? besides. we have been... talking again."

"oh is that so?" you feign disinterest, eyes trained on the leaves that crunch under your feet.

he hums once more, squinting when he looks up, the sun beaming against his face. how he's missed its' warmth. paris was often gloomy. "we discussed possibly trying again." he says calmly, sighing with content.

you falter, "that might be good. ive always known you guys still loved each other! besides, you guys were young and stupid."

"that we were." hyunjin laughs. "well how about you and... ah- he who must not be named?"

you tense a little at that, opting to play it off with a shrug. "havent seen him around much, actually."

"well that's odd. you three were the only ones from our highschool to pass SNU and you guys dont keep in touch?"

"well i dont keep in touch with people from highschool much." you bite back.

"well how about me and felix?" he challenges.

"yea. just you two."

"arent you two in the same major?"

"we have different schedules. never aligns."

"but yuna and lia said-"

"i just dont see seungmin much, alright? that's that!" you groan, shoving your hands into your pockets.

"oh my dear y/n, nothing has changed! have you tried to patch things up with him? after all we were, hm what did you say, ah- young and stupid?"

"well he certainly was." you mumble, and hyunjin bursts out laughing. he throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer against his side. "god, i've missed you."

felix absolutely adores his job. he gets to help bake in the kitchens in the morning, and then he gets to make such fun little drinks while listening to music he chooses. he loves his coworkers, and his schedule is flexible, what with the manager knowing how most of his staff are all college students. the one thing he hates though? dealing with rude customers.

"i apologize, sir. our drinks are served in plastic cups as most of our customers dont finish their drink here, it's easier to take out in case you need to leave in a hurry." felix can feel the sweat start to form at his hairline, trickling slowly down his forehead as his cheeks twitch in a forced smile.

"well if i knew you served it in plastic cups, i never would have ordered!" the middle-aged man in front of him yells, eyebrows raised. students in the cafe have started to look over, trying hard to be discreet. some look annoyed, others clearly show how they feel sorry for felix.

felix tries his best to keep his smile, but he can feel anger and annoyance rise in him like hot water boiling deep in his gut.

"what the fuck is the difference??" he wants to scream, grab the stupid plastic cup from his stupid chubby fingers and throw it right in his stupid ugly face.

"im sorry sir, is there some kind of problem here?" a calm voice calls from behind the man, who turns around in surprise.

seungmin stands with his hands in his pockets, a small smile on his lips. he's dressed in nothing fancy, a university hoodie and some sweatpants. he's only supposed to catch up with felix as he busies himself around the cafe after all. his hair is tucked neatly in his cap, the perfect image of your average college student.

felix swears he's an angel sent from the heavens.

"this is none of your business, kid." the man snorts disgustingly, waving a chubby finger in seungmin's face.

"well, actually this is a public space and you're holding up the line. so yea, it kinda is my business. besides, you're on university grounds, i have every right to be here as a student." seungmin says coolly, taking a step towards the counter so he's able to somewhat position himself in between felix and this gross ugly man.

"listen, i'm a paying customer, so-"

"and the staff has the right to refuse service to anyone unless on the basis of race, religion, or ethnicity- isn't that right, felix?"

and its like suddenly felix has found his voice. he stands a little taller, leaning forward to get closer to the man's face. "that's right."

"and you're not refusing to serve this man because hes white or anything, right?" seungmin eggs him on, throwing the man a somewhat bored look.

"no. its because hes an asshole."

"hey-" the man steps forward, hands raised.

"well you heard him!" seungmin cuts the man off before he can continue, fully stepping in front of felix now. "if you dont leave within the next ten seconds, i'm calling security. they take peace and order on school grounds very seriously, you know?"

the man huffs, turning around and slamming the door behind him so hard that the little bell that jingles near the doorframe rattles wildly seconds after he's left.

"i dont know how you deal with assholes like that, felix. id probably lose my mind." seungmin sighs, throwing his friend a tight lipped smile.

"you kinda get used to it. but i've just been so tired this finals week that i dont even have the energy to stand up for myself anymore." felix shakes his head while he wipes the counter down.

seungmin nods understandingly, lunging for the man's untouched drink before felix can throw it. "this is paid, isn't it?"

"well, yes but-"

"alright, felix look. i have a problem." seungmin slides easily into one of the stools by the counter, taking a deep sip of the man's mystery drink.

felix nods in understanding, rearranging trays and cleaning up as much as he can.

"well actually, it's more of a favor? i dont know."

felix only hums, used to seungmin's rambling by now. seungmin's just like that, needs to talk to himself aloud a little before getting straight to the point.

"im actually screwed and there's no one else i can talk to because well, there's no more shame between us, yea? we've seen each other naked and ive seen you at your lowest low and youve been there for me and-"

"wow, this is pretty serious, huh?" felix jokes, pulling up a stool so he can sit in front of his friend.

"i think i'm gonna fail a class." seungmin spits out, holding his breath immediately after as he gauges his friend's reaction.

felix's smile slowly disappears. his mouth opens and closes like a fish as he tries to figure out what to say, in a state of total shock. this goes on for about five minutes before seungmin finally whines, head dropping to his hands.

"will you say something i can actually understand, felix?"

"i'm sorry i just- i dont understand. you're.... failing? you? kim seungmin? the kim seungmin?"

"wow you really know how to comfort a guy, huh?"

"i'm sorry!" felix jumps up to pull seungmin in for a half-hug, awkwardly wrapping his arms around seungmin's chest over the counter. "i just... how? why? what subject? are you sure?"

"yes, im sure. i missed a stupid submission. a major subject. look, thats not the worst part-"

"omigod you're dying. thats the only explanation-"

"no!" seungmin whines, pushing his friend off him. "the professor said he could give me extra credit-"

"but thats good news!"

"-if im able to convince... someone.... to split the task given to them with me."

"o...kay? just turn on your puppydog charm and you're good to go."

seungmin shakes his head, as if he's about to deliver such solemn news to felix that he has to pause for dramatic effect. felix rolls his eyes.

"it's... well the person is y/n."

felix stares at his friend with wide eyes, unblinking. then he tilts his head back and lets out the most obnoxious laugh, losing his breath as his neck turns a deep shade of red, the tint spreading across his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

"you're joking! oh this is just too- oh, i cant breathe, ITS KARMA!" he suddenly yells, fighting for his life to breathe in as much air as possible, wiping the tears from his eyes.

seungmin winces, but deep down he knows this reaction is deserved.

his relationship with you is... a little complicated.

you met seungmin in your freshman year of highschool. you'd just moved to seoul, the New Girl. as batch rep, he was tasked with showing you around on your first day, teaching you the ropes and making you feel welcomed.

"well yea, thats basically it!" seungmin finishes, pace slowing down as he directs you to the bench just opposite the school clinic. "do you have any questions for me?" he asks with a slight tilt of his head.

your eyes stay trained on the floor, as they have been the past 30 minutes that this strange boy has toured you around the school. you shake your head. seungmin doesnt fully understand it yet, but somewhere deep down, he feels bad for you. you seem like the shy type, and he knows how hard it is to adjust and make new friends. god knows how he would have survived middle school if it weren't for his friends.

"hey, what do you say you come meet my friends tomorrow during lunch break?" he suddenly asks. for the first time since his homeroom teacher introduced you, you look up at him.

he's taken aback by how pretty your eyes are.

"oh, really?" you ask timidly, voice small.

"i- i mean yea! we're in the same homeroom anyway, right? plus i think it'll help you adjust a little better if you had people you could talk to and hang out with." seungmin shrugs.

"yea. i'd really like that. thank you, seungmin." your voice is so low its almost like you're mumbling.

before you know it, you're spending your lunch breaks laughing along with felix as he embarrasses all of seungmin's friends one by one, wincing away from changbin as he threatens to lunge across the table to shut the younger boy up, hyunjin clinging dramatically onto his boyfriend's side instead of defending him.

you're spending your weekends at seungmin's house as chan makes you all listen to his new demo, han turning red in the face when his verse comes on. you're walking to school with jeongin- arms full of convenience store goodies as you make fun of your grumpy old maths teacher, leeknow following quietly behind you both, scolding you when you get too close to the road.

before you know it, you've found yourself a group of friends who makes highschool just that much bearable.

seungmin's completely enamored by you, coming to learn that you're at the top of every class that you have (except the ones you have with him, of course). you're just as ambitious as he is, joining the debate team and the mock un club, quickly joining the officers despite being a new student.

he's somewhat threatened by you, though he'd never admit it to himself, or to anyone else for that matter. you score higher than him in statistics, and he cant help the ugly feeling that settles in his chest when you show your paper to him, a bright blue 100 circled at the top.

he tries not to let it get to him, changing his mindset into seeing it as a healthy competition, a way for him to challenge himself even more in to doing better than you. it feeds his competitive side, staying longer than you in the library, sleeping later than you, reading more books.

this one sided competition makes him feel conflicted. he's out for your blood, and yet you're the same sweet, shy girl he's always been close to. you spend most of your time with seungmin, studying with him at his house, sleeping over when you've realized its way past ten in the evening, sneaking out of his house for a quick convenience store run.

"min, i'm hungry! lets go down to the store." you'd whine, voice slightly muffled against his soft sheets, tucked nice and warm under his blankets.

"go home, you've finished all the food here." he'd tease, not even bothering to look away from his homework.

"cant. you'd miss me after an hour." you'd retort, reaching blindly behind you for a plushie to throw at the back of his head.

"suppose that's true. can't help but be used to your presence when you're here nearly every day," he'd feign annoyance, exhaling loudly through his nose.

you'd pout at him when he'd finally turn in his chair to look over at you, already so at home, snuggling even deeper into his bed.

you really do have such pretty eyes.

"fine. grab your coat." and he'd try hard to fight his smile at the sound of your delighted squeals.

you found a way to break through his walls, chip away at the cement and reduce it to a fine dust which you've blown away. but he stands unguarded all the same, not even bothering to put up a fight when you wrestle your way into his heart.

he'd like to keep you there, he thinks.

sometimes he'd lie to himself and say that he tried. by your senior year, he managed to ruin the one good thing in his life.

how stupid was he?

amazing, really. how he was able to throw away three years of friendship for fifteen minutes of fame.

"how could you do this to me?" you hiss, dropping your backpack onto the floor of seungmin's bedroom. his back is faced towards you, gently shutting his door before he leans his forehead on it. he takes a deep breath, gathering enough courage to face you.

"y/n, i-"

"you embarrassed me in front of everyone. you told them everything, things i told you in confidence because i fucking trusted you. how could you do this to me, seungmin? how could you fucking do this to me?" your tears are hot, angry against your cheeks as you pace around his room. your voice grows louder with every word, reaching a scream when you stand in front of him.

"i wasn't thinking, y/n. i-"

"and for what? to make me look bad?" you laugh hollowly, hands flying to your hair in disbelief. "to make me look like some poor, fucking loser who's so mentally unstable she can't possibly become president of student council? was that your angle?"

there's a lump in seungmin's throat and no matter how hard he swallows, it just wont go down. he opens his mouth to speak, to defend himself, but his mouth has gone dry and his tongue tastes like sand.

"what the fuck is wrong with you? i thought we were friends? i thought we were best friends, seungmin? how could you air out all my shit like that? for a couple of votes? do you know how pathetic you are? is that how bad you want to be president? you're willing to throw me under the bus to make yourself look good?" you can taste the salty tears pooling in your mouth, snot slowly dripping down and creating a sticky mess on your face.

but you're too angry to care.

your chest hurts, like someone's kicked you to the ground and continuously stomped right in between your ribcage in an attempt to squash your heart. your head hurts from dehydration, and your neck is starting to feel sticky from the sweat that's pooled at the collar of your uniform.

"was this your master plan? you found out i was running against you so you sucked up to me, kept me close so you could get all the dirt? you fucking traitor, i cant believe i actually trusted you." your throat has gone raw from all the yelling, can feel the way your voice starts to come out hoarse.

"y/n, please. i'm so sorry i dont know what i was thinking. i just... when they asked me why they should vote for me my mind blanked and i-" he tries to get everything out as fast as he can, terrified you'll cut him off and start yelling again. but he can't continue because, holy shit, even he doesn't know why the fuck he did what he did.

"and you what? made me look fucking stupid so you rambled on for fifteen minutes about how much of a horrible person i am. god, if thats what you thought of me you shouldve let me know, seungmin! i couldve walked out of your life if i made you that miserable." you're starting to heave, all the air in the room suddenly disappearing.

"no, dont say that y/n. you're the best thing about me, you're my best fr-"

seungmin feels dizzy when your palm lands on his right cheek.

you cant stop sobbing, hands clutching at your chest as you shake your head. "fuck you," you whisper.

seungmin is stunned, frozen in the middle of his room with his mouth slightly open. he says nothing, does nothing as he watches you bend down weakly to grab your bag, sobbing through the motions of slinging it over your shoulders.

but then the panic starts to kick in when you push past him, your fingers reaching for his doorknob. his instincts kick in and hes wrapping his hand around your wrist.

"please don't go, please let's talk about this." his voice cracks. when did he start crying?"

you pause, and for a moment seungmin can feel the weight on his shoulder lift, all hope is not lost.

"its good to know where your priorities lie, seungmin. now i know you'll do anything to get ahead. even if that means hurting me." you tried to sound strong, but your voice comes out broken, a whimper.

"dont speak to me ever again."

you pull your hand away from him.

the weight on his shoulders is suddenly crushing.

and when he gave his acceptance speech in front of the entire student body, he frantically searched for your face. his heart dropped when his eyes locked with yours. eyes that once looked at him with so much warmth, care, and love- stared soullessly back at him.

he knew he fucked up the best thing in his life.

by the time you reach felix's cafe, hyunjin's whining had started to get on your nerves.

"i didn't ask you to carry it," you remind him, reaching for the strap.

he turns his body away from you, clutching your tote tighter against his side. "as if i'd let you carry this!"

yes, he was a gentleman. but a dramatic ass one.

"id honestly rather carry my bag than have to listen to you whine about how heavy it is."

"but it is so heavy! what the fuck did you put in here, rocks?"

you only roll your eyes, pushing open the glass door to the establishment. the tiny bell above the doorframe rings, announcing your arrival to the blonde boy behind the counter.

"oh my god, its soobin." you whisper under your breath, elbowing hyunjin in the ribs. he only looks at you puzzled, an eyebrow raised.

"he's so cute, ohmygod." you roll your eyes, quickly checking your blurry reflection on the glass door.

"not my type," hyunjin shrugs. you ignore him, walking straight to the counter.

"oh, hey soob!" you greet him, quickly shushing hyunjin when he starts to mock your airy tone. "is felix here?" you smile sweetly, trying to tame your hair from the mess caused by the strong winds outside.

"oh yea, he's over there in the booth by the window. he's not alone though," he says, wiping down the counter after spilling a few shaves of ice.

"oh, who's he with?" you ask, already making your way down the counter.

"dunno, the dude looks kinda stressed, to be honest." he shrugs, turning away from you when the bell lets him know he's got another customer to serve.

he's with a guy? he's not on a date is he? no- he wouldve told you. besides, he wouldnt have led hyunjin on either.

hyunjin follows behind you as you make your way towards the booth, heaving dramatically as he swings your tote bag off his shoulders. he crouches behind you, snickering to himself as you both slowly walk to the table, strands of felix's hair peeking out from the opposite bench.

"surprise!" hyunjin jumps from behind you, smile swiftly morphing into a face of shock, his mouth forming a small 'o'.

"holy shit, hyune! what are you doing here?"

your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. that voice-

"s-seungmin, i didnt know you were with felix."

you freeze, jaw dropped as seungmin stands. he clearly hasn't seen you yet, back facing you as he pulls hyunjin in for a hug, squeezing him tightly.

"i thought you were in paris?" felix squeals, sliding out of the booth and joining the three for a big bear hug. he's the one who finally notices you a few feet away, his smile dropping.

"y/n." he breathes, eyes wide.

when seungmin turns around, its almost as if in its slow motion.

he looks almost exactly the same, his hair a little longer, shaggier. his eyes look more tired, little bags under his eyes give away the sleepless nights he's become familiar with. his cheeks slowly turn a light pink, dusting across his nose all the way to the tip of his ears. he's dressed the way you remember him, loose comfy clothes.

he looks good, you think. you shake the thought away.

"oh, y/n." seungmin's voice is small as he locks eyes with you.

fuck, your eyes.

his first time seeing you in three years and he hates how you manage to steal his breath away. you've changed your hair, cut it a little shorter and dyed it lighter. you've pierced your ears, little sunflower earrings peaking from beneath your hair. you look so much more mature, your style has definitely changed.

but your eyes, they shine just as bright as he remembers. good to know his memory hasnt failed him yet.

"i didn't know you were coming, y/n." felix shoots you an apologetic glance, lips pursed and eyes wide.

"but i always come visit you on thursdays." you say flatly.

"yea but-"

"awh look! it's been a while since we've all seen each other, huh?" hyunjin cuts in, trying desperately to ease the tension. seungmin stays standing still, gawking stupidly at you. you try your best to pretend like you cant feel his gaze.

"yea, some of us made that decision on purpose." you mutter under your breath, but you don't miss the way seungmin's eye twitch.

felix smiles, lacing his hand with hyunjin's. "it's really been too long," he whispers, as if only meant for his lover.

"i'd really love if we could all spend some time together." hyunjin's eyes find yours, wide and pleading. "please?"

you offer him a tight lipped smile.

its already so awkward, the way felix and hyunjin slide naturally into the booth, beginning to chatter away. it leaves you and seungmin standing, stubbornly avoiding eye contact.

"do you- do you want to sit near the window, or?" seungmin's voice is small, eyes glued to the floor.

you shrug.

he nods, climbing in anyway. you take a deep breath before you move, reluctantly climbing onto the booth after him. you leave a considerable amount of space between the two of you, and seungmin can't help but roll his eyes.

it's been nearly three years, he thinks. how are you still holding a grudge against him? he clears his throat, about to start some small talk, but something stops him. maybe its the way you deliberately angle your body away from him, or the way you pull your phone out to scroll aimlessly, almost as if you were anticipating his move.

"so, how was paris?" seungmin asks hyunjin instead, shifting his body away from you. fine, be like that. at least hes not immature enough to make things awkward on purpose.

"oh, it was so romantic!" hyunjin exclaims, throwing his arm over felix's shoulder and resting it on the back of their booth. "it was a little depressing, actually. being in such a beautiful place all alone."

"well yea, but it was worth it right? who wouldve thought your one true love was right here all along." you tease, wiggling your eyebrows up and down.

"yea so is yours!" hyunjin teases you back. you only stick your tongue out.

beside you, seungmin tenses. surely, hyunjin isnt implying that he could be your true love, could he? the thought makes chest ache, an odd yearning to move closer to you, to let his fingers "accidentally" brush against yours-

"oh, soobin!" felix giggles, catching on.

seungmin's always hated that guy. from the moment he met soobin thirty minutes ago, he knew something was off. you can't date soobin, he wouldnt know how to take care of you. with his stupid blonde hair, his stupid bunny smile, his stupidly large eyes.

he bets soobin doesnt even know what your favorite type of ramen is, what your go-to snacks are, what your favorite flavor of ice cream is. important things that a lover should know.

things he knows.

oh, where'd that thought come from?

"shut up, you guys!" you hiss, checking to see if soobin is within earshot. you frown at felix, swatting across the table at his chest.

"what do you mean? you guys would look so cute together." hyunjin argues, quickly turning to catch a glimpse of soobin. you hide your face in your hands, profusely shaking your head as you sink deeper into the booth.

seungmin cant help the feeling of jealousy that bubbles deep in his gut. hes half scared hes going to projectile vomit all over the table when you straighten yourself out, sneaking a peek at the blonde boy who busies himself with creating a customer's drink.

"im probably not his type." you mumble.

"you're not." seungmin's shocked at the word that's slipped, hand quickly coming up to cover his mouth in shock.

all eyes are on him, and he can see the way you look at him, with your empty eyes staring right at his face. he hates it when you look at him like that, misses the way your eyes used to shine just for him.

"actually you know what, im getting kinda tired, i think im gonna go home instead." you blurt out, already reaching for your bag.

hyunjin's hand finds yours on the table, and he squeezes gently. "really?"

you swiftly pull your hand away. "yes. really."

"you know what, it doesnt matter. i actually made a reservation for us lixie. wasn't planning on staying long anyways. just wanted to surprise you." hyunjin sings sweetly, brushing away a stand of hair that had fallen on felix's cheek.

"yea, i think i'm gonna head home too." seungmin clears his throat.

just then, the sound of thunder roars outside, clouds a dark grey as they hang low.

fuck. just when you decided not to bring an umbrella.

"yea, i think we better get going. dont wanna get caught in the rain." felix sighs, gathering his stuff and offering hyunjin his hand.

"dont you have spare umbrellas here, lix? maybe we could borrow them. you know, just in case." as if on cue, the rain starts to come down heavily, droplets splattering against the window.

"yea, but there's only two." felix mutters, quickly slipping behind the counter to grab two black umbrellas leaning against the wall. "hyunjin and i can share, and maybe you and y/n-"

"i'm fine." you say stubbornly, arms crossed in front of your chest.

you'd rather die than spend two seconds alone with kim seungmin.

"oh dont say that, you'll get drenched and catch a cold." hyunjin sighs, grabbing one of the umbrellas from felix's hand and offering it to you.

"i'd actually prefer that, thanks." you snap, swatting his hand away.

hyunjin opens his mouth to berate you, but seungmin quickly steps in, reaching for the umbrella. "i'll handle this guys, you go enjoy your dinner."

you fume at that. 'oh he'll handle it? who the fuck does this guy think he is?'

you roll your eyes, pushing past your friends and heading for the door. you stand under the roof, crossing your arms in front of your chest as a cold chill blows past you. hyunjin and felix soon exit as well, wrapped tightly in their coats, hands entwined.

hyunjin steps towards you, pulling you in for a hug despite your protests. "be nice," he whispers, before planting a kiss on your cheek. you make a move to wipe it away, but hesitate when you see hyunjin pout.

"have a nice date." you mumble, watching as the pair huddles close under the umbrella, making their way to felix's car.

you hear the door open, and you hold your breath.

"let me walk you home." seungmin offers, his tone stern. this only ticks you off, wanting nothing more than to defy him despite his offer being in your best interest. your apartment is a good walk away, and the papers in your tote bag risk the chance of getting wet.

"i mean you- you live near my building, right?" he pleads, clicking his umbrella open. he waits patiently for you to respond, standing awkwardly by the sidewalk as you fight with your pride.

you nod, and thats all seungmin needs. he's by your side in an instant, holding the umbrella nearer to your side to ensure that not even an inch of you gets wet from the rain. his left side is already completely soaked, cringing at the feel of his cold hoodie sticking to his skin, but he ignores it. you set a fast pace, and his heart hurts at the though that it's probably because you can't stand to spend more time with him than you need to.

he notices you wince from the weight of your bag, taking a deep breath as you readjust the strap from falling off your shoulder.

"let me carry it," he's being bold, already reaching for the damn thing before you can say anything.

"i dont need any more favors." you snap, the first words you've directly said to him in nearly three years. he's glad you've at least acknowledged his existence now, but your words are sharp.

he lets it go, humming to let you know that he heard you. your pace quickens just a bit, eager to get home, out of the rain, and away from seungmin. your tote swings from the movement, getting caught on a nearby bush and very nearly pulling you back.

you lose your balance and slip, falling flat on your butt on the wet pavement. you try to brake your fall, scratching your palms in the process.

"oh my god, are you okay?" seungmin rushes down, still holding the umbrella over your head. he offers his hand to help you up, but you swat it away.

"i'm fine, alright? god, stop hovering!" you yell, pushing down on your scratched palms to help yourself up. you wince at the pain, brushing off tiny pebbles and bits of gravel from your open wound.

"y/n, you're bleeding." seungmin gawks, hand reaching out to touch yours. you quickly yank it out of his reach, almost as if you were hiding your palm from him.

"yea, thanks for the info." you mumble, trying your best to wipe away the mud that's splattered all over your jeans. seungmin moves quickly while you're preoccupied, crouching down to grab at your tote bag. he ignores your whines of protest, slinging it over his shoulder.

you let out a groan when he refuses to hand it back to you. "fine, whatever. suffer." you grumble, crossing your arms before walking away. seungmin quickly catches up to you, shielding you from the rain.

the walk home is painfully quiet. you're hyperaware of every movement he makes, every time he inhales, the way he clears his throat, as if he's about to say something before he changes his mind. all these emotions swirl angirly inside of you, most of them you cant even begin to comprehend.

because for some reason, you miss him. and it hits you like a truck when the sleeve of his hoodie grazes your elbow, the soft cloth reaching for you. it takes everything in you not to break down and grab for him, to hold him close and strangle him, to wrap your arms around him and hug him so tight he loses breath and dies of suffocation.

he smells the same, like the seungmin you remember who used to walk you home after band practice. the seungmin who held your hand in secret as you walked through the haunted house that one halloween. the seungmin who'd sing to you, alone in his room with his guitar on his lap.

your seungmin.

how could this stranger beside you be your seungmin?

how is it possible that the very same person who knows your deepest darkest secrets, your most embarrassing moments, your dreams and fears- is someone who doesn't know you at all?

seungmin stands stiff beside you as you reach the lobby of your apartment, shaking the little droplets of rain off the umbrella. he opens the door for you, urging you to enter before him.

"i'll have my bag back now, thanks." you say in monotone, eyes not even meeting his.

"let me carry it up." a bold request.

"i'm fine now, you know? im not some damsel in distress in need of saving." you mumble, standing your ground.

seungmin ignores you, already walking towards the elevator. he leaves it on hold, waiting a few seconds before you enter as well, grumbling under your breath.

once you reach your floor, you lead the way to your room, with seungmin trailing slowly behind you. he's shivering a little from the cold, the wet of his jacket only making the draft on the floor feel like ice against his skin. you notice, the little devil on your shoulder pleased at his suffering.

but there's another side of you that softens when you notice the way his teeth chatter, a shudder going down his whole body. god, you're gonna regret even opening your mouth-

"you can come in to warm up a little." you mumble, reaching into your coat pocket to fetch your keys.

seungmin merely blinks at you, unsure if he heard you correctly, or if his imagination was so strong that he managed to picture you saying the thing he so desperately wanted to hear.

but then you walk in, and you leave your door open. for him.

"oh, thanks." seungmin mutters awkwardly, reaching for the cup of tea you offer him. the warmth spreads from his fingertips to his palms, and he's genuinely grateful for the heat it provides. you only hum, grabbing your tote bag from the floor and setting it on the couch.

you pour yourself a cup, sitting directly opposite of the strange boy in your apartment. you blow away some of the steam that rises from the cup, eyes trained on the way the liquid ripples from the force of your breath.

seungmin opens his mouth to speak, but he cant seem to find the words to say what he wants to say. i'm sorry? no thats too lame. i miss you? fuck no, way too forward. how about-

"you're shivering." you point out, staring directly into seungmin's eyes.

his breath hitches. you're looking at him.

actually looking at him.

"oh, i- i didn't even notice." he lies. despite the fact that you turned your heater on, he's fucking freezing. his hoodie is heavy with rain and damp against his skin, sending shivers all the way up his arm and down his spine.

suddenly you stand, retreating into your room without a word. seungmin's confused, unsure if that's his cue that he's overstayed his welcome. but then you come back into the kitchen after a few seconds, holding a large blue hoodie in your arms.

his heart clenches when you unfurl it, revealing the old hoodie he'd given you a month before your graduation. he didnt even know you got it in the mail when he sent it. you werent even talking to him at that point. does that mean you'd gotten his letter too?

"well, i didnt wanna get rid of it, you know? would be a waste." you mumble. you toss it over to him, the cloth landing on his lap with a soft thud. he looks stupidly down at it, brain malfunctioning.

"you should change out of your sweater. you're wet. dripping all over my floor." you grumble, snatching seungmin's empty cup and setting it down on the counter behind him.

"you kept it?" seungmin whispers.

"like i said. didnt want it-"

"you kept it." seungmin turns to look at you.

his deep brown eyes are hopeful, crease in his brows giving away the myriad of emotions swirling deep in his stomach.

you stay silent, back turned towards him. you can feel the tears that pool behind your eyelids, threatening to fall as you hold yourself over the sink, turning your head completely away from seungmin. you hear the sound of fabric rustling, and your cheeks warm at the thought of him undressing in the middle of your kitchen.

the sound of wood scratching against your kitchen tiles is loud, the abruptness of seungmin standing up nearly sending the chair backwards.

"smells like you." he whispers. he cant trust his voice.

he takes a step towards you, your back still towards him.

"i think its time for you to go." you hiccup, a steady stream of tears flowing down your cheeks.

"look at me." seungmin begs, taking another step.

"you should go now, seungmin."

"look me in the eye when you tell me. then i will."

he's getting bold, standing right behind you, his chest pressing the back of your head. you whirl around, ready to yell at him, to scream at him, to slap him, to furl your hands into fists and beat against his chest.

but he's quicker, wrapping both his arms around your shoulders and pressing you close to him, tucking your head under his chin. he holds you like this for so long you figure its been hours. you stain the front of his chest with your tears, hands weakly wrapping around him, fingers curling into the fabric.

he still feels like seungmin.

your seungmin.

"you kept it. you got my letter too, didn't you sweetheart?" he whispers, as if afraid raising his voice would ruin the spell.

you sob violently against his chest, holding him tighter against you.

"i meant every single word," he squeezes you tightly, "i'm so sorry."

"you're an asshole, kim seungmin." you sob, shaking your head.

"i know, i know. i'm so sorry." he shushes you, smoothing down your hair, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head.

"do you know how much it hurts?" you sob, pulling away from him. "i see you almost everyday. you have the face of someone who knows every single thing about me, but you're a complete stranger to me." you sob into your hands, pouring your heart out to him.

"i know," he sniffles, wiping away the snot under your nose with his free hand.

"no, you dont. stop fucking saying that." you pull your face away from him, pushing his hand down. "you were my best friend and you- now its like i dont know you and-" you're hiccuping, heaving, out of breath as you break down.

"i'm sorry, sweetheart, okay? i'm so so sorry. i was so stupid,"

"well yea!" you yell, falling into him when he opens his arms up to you.

he chuckles dryly at that, holding you tightly against him, as if terrified you'd change your mind and kick him out of your home. and he cant bear to see it, the way you look up at him with tears in your eyes, bloodshot red and full of resentment. he wants to fix it so bad, misses the way you'd hold softness in your eyes reserved especially for him.

"i'll make it right," he promises, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head. "i'll prove it to you, okay? i promise."

you sniffle, shaking your head. "i- i dont know,"

"hey, look at me." seungmin pulls you away from him, bending slightly so you're eye to eye. "i promise, i'll do everything i can to gain back your trust. i just miss you so much, y/n. i- i really fucked up and to this day it remains my greatest regret."

you stay quiet, eyes flickering between either of his. "even more than when you shaved your head that one summer?" you joke weakly.

seungmin can feel his heart pounding at the sight of your small smile. he thinks he sees your eyes twinkle. "yes, sweetheart. even more than that. i just... please. give me another chance. give me a chance to make it right with you, y/n."

you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. seungmin's steadily crying, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand as he looks at you, expectantly. you stay quiet for so long seungmin can hear the blood rushing all the way to his head, going dizzy with anticipation and fear.

"you'll have to buy me lots of gummies, you know?" you mumble, looking up at him.

fuck. he'd buy you all the gummies in the world if it meant you'd keep looking at him with those eyes.

the words on your screen have started to blur altogether, vision hazy as you mindlessly scroll through the hundreds of pages of readings and notes youve been reviewing for the past...... god, was there even a time you weren't studying? even the music playing through your headphones have lost its appeal, sounding more and more like radio static.

you jolt out of your trance at the sound of books slamming against the surface of your table, which shakes under the weight. you quickly pull your headphones off and look up at the intruder, who smiles sheepishly at you.

"sorry, did i wake you?" seungmin asks, pulling up a chair beside you.

"no, you saved me." you groan, stretching your whole body until your limbs start to vibrate.

seungmin only laughs, sinking deep into his chair. he takes his cap off and runs his fingers through his hair. he scoots a little closer to you, then bends the other way to retrieve a little brown paper bag.

"i brought you breakfast." he says, rolling his eyes at the way you pout at him.

"seungmin, you didnt!" you gasp, receiving the tall cup of iced coffee with eager hands.

"i did this for myself, actually." he claims, pulling out some warm bread to share with you. "dont want you grumpy all morning. what time did you come in? you look like shit. no offense."

you shrug, taking a long sip of the cold drink.

"wait, weren't you wearing that last night when i left? y/n.. dont- oh my god, dont tell me you spent the whole night here?"

you stare blankly back at him. "our final exam is in three days."

"do you plan on staying awake until then?" seungmin bites sarcastically, and you kick his chair.

"i have to atleast get a 97 on his exam or else i wont finish his class with high honors." you whine, running your fingers through your hair in frustration.

you're so much like him, seungmin thinks. he, too, is familiar with sacrificing his happiness for a perfect grade. except now he has to work just as hard as you just to pass. the thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

"you have to get some sleep or you wont finish his class at all." he threatens, staring down at you.

you only frown, but you dont need that much convincing, as you're already closing your laptop shut, scooting your chair just that much closer to seungmin's so your arm grazes his.

"wake me up in thirty minutes." you grumble, linking your arm with his and resting your head on his shoulder. he raises it a little to grant you comfort, unbothered by the fact that his arm will inevitably start to tense and ache.

"sweet dreams," he hums, discreetly kissing the top of your head as he pretends to look at the empty chair next to you.

ten minutes pass, and you're already snoring. your fair falls in a mess in front of your face, and seungmin has to hold back from sweeping your hair away in fear that he'd accidentally wake you up. he cant help but feel his chest swell at the feeling of you leaning on him, he feels like a highschooler high with giddiness, trying hard not to vibrate in his seat.

screw the readings, he can barely keep you out of his head. this past month has been an absolute dream to him, spending every waking moment by your side. treating you to almost every single meal, keeping you company as you run your errands, crashing at yours to study and just goof around.

this is how he remembers you- full of life, playful, just a little mischievous. so positively alluring that seungmin feels himself falling in love with you. it hit him like a brick that night you passed out with papers strewn across your bed, your limbs tangling with his. he didnt sleep a wink that night, too busy studying your face. you looked so peaceful, he remembers, burying your face in the crook of his neck and holding him tightly in your sleep.

he looks down at you now, cant stop the smile from spreading across his face. he'll let you sleep for a little longer, he decides. he doesnt care if you get upset with him (you will), you deserve the rest. seungmin's about to finally clear his head of you and actually get some studying done when he locks eyes with a tall blonde from across the room.

god, of all the people.

"oh, hey! seungmin, right? felix's friend?" soobin says in a low voice as he approaches the table.

"yea, soobin right?" stupid fucking name.

"yea. hey- is that y/n?" he nods towards your sleeping figure.

ew. stop looking at her. "oh, yea. she passed out."

"damn, she's really studious, huh? ran into her late last night when she was here all alone." soobin sighs, frowning at you.

seungmin wants to puke at the thought of you spending time alone with soobin. he wants to ask him so many questions like- how long did you talk to her for? what did you guys talk about? how much can i pay you to leave her alone?

"yea, shes hardworking. i admire her for that." seungmin smiles fondly.

"oh... wait- are.. are you guys, like, a thing? or something?" soobin takes a step back and seungmin's breath hitches in his throat.

"cuz if you guys are, i can totally back off, you know?"

seungmin stays silent, weighing his options. he could lie and say you guys were dating, but if you found out, you'd probably hate him and ignore him for the rest of his life and he'd rather die than let that happen. on the other hand, if he tells the truth, soobin would obviously try to pursure you. and he knows you have a little crush on him too.

seungmin bites his lower lip, then shakes his head. "nah, we're just friends." seungmin can feel some bile rise in his throat. not for long, he thinks cockily.

"oh, cool cool. uhm, if you could do me a favor, man? just... i dunno ask her to go to the cafe again this week? maybe i'll work up the courage to ask her out or something." soobin chuckles, cheeks turning a deep red.

seungmin can only nod. finally soobin offers him a small smile and leaves. there's a heavy feeling in seungmin's stomach, almost as if he'd been punched in the gut. he cant even begin to imagine you dating someone else, in fear that he'd just break down right then and there.

its kinda pathetic, really. you're not even his yet and he's already thinking of all the ways he can get soobin to leave you alone. he wants to print a large sign that says "do not approach, angry guard dog will bite" over your head, just to keep everyone else away from you.

god, since when was he this possessive?

he spends the next forty minutes thinking of ways to get you to be his. and when you finally stir awake, the first thing that seungmin says is-

"we should stop going to felix's cafe."

obviously, you dont listen.

you go to felix's cafe anyways, except you're always alone. seungmin doesn't need to know where you go every thursday afternoon while he's in class, anyways. he never told you why he wanted you to stop coming here, but you have a hunch. a tall, blonde, stupidly handsome hunch.

"y/n!" soobin greets you warmly, leaning over the counter to get a better look at your face.

"hey, soob." your cheeks warm.

you know that nothing is going on between you and seungmin, but you can't help but feel guilty doing exactly the opposite of what he asked of you. but something's shifted the past few days you've been spending with seungmin, almost as if you're seeing each other in this new light. you push this thought to the back of your head like you always do, telling soobin your order and waiting for felix at your booth.

by the time soobin brings the food to you, your phone rings.

fuck. its seungmin.

"hello?"

"hey, my classes ended a little early today. where are you?"

"oh, uhm im-"

oh my god lie faster.

"yea?" you can hear him huffing, obviously walking around campus, probably looking for you.

"at the library." you spit, looking outside the window, frozen with paranoia. lying to him feels so so wrong.

"its wednesday, y/n. library's closed."

oh my fucking god, lie better.

"i went to meet felix." you finally admit, shrinking into your seat.

you hear seungmin sigh. "is he out already?"

"no," you mumble.

"so you're alone?"

you hum.

"im on my way."

he hangs up, and you let out a sigh.

finally, felix barges out from the kitchens and quickly clocks out, throwing his apron over his head and hanging it on the hook by the door. he smiles when he sees you, nearly leaping over the counter to get to you.

"hello, my dear y/n." felix hums, kissing you quickly on the cheek and settling on the booth opposite from you.

"hello, my dear lixie." you hum, pushing a plate of waffles in front of him. "for you, your usual."

felix groans with hunger, fixing his plate with a heavy load of syrup and a huge dollop of butter. "so, how are things? any important new updates this week?"

you shrug, taking a sip of your iced coffee. "nothing new, really..... except, i guess...."

felix hums, urging you to continue.

you let out a deep breath, shaking your head. "i think... i think something's going on between seungmin and i."

you bite the inside of your cheek at felix's reaction, mouth agape as he stares blankly at you. it takes him a moment to process before he finally swallows the food in his mouth and he lets out an evil giggle. "oh, this is... oh, hyunjin owes me so much money!"

"you prick!" you gasp, swatting at felix's arm. "you guys bet on us?"

"well, i mean, come on! it was sooo obvious, i mean, it was only a matter of time, you know?" felix shrugs, cutting up another piece of his waffle.

"no, i do not know!" you squeal, piercing the piece with your fork and stuffing it into your mouth, ignoring your friend's whines of protest. "you guys thought seungmin and i would end up together?"

"well yea, everyone with eyes thought so! come on, y/n. he's looked at you like a lovesick puppy since highschool." felix rolls his eyes. "you guys were always together, and he knew you better than all of us combined. not to mention how lifeless you both were the two years you werent talking. i mean seriously, it was like hanging out with a couple of zombies."

your cheeks warm. "but- im still not even sure of how he feels about me."

"wow. love does make you oblivious as fuck, or whatever they say." felix shakes his head, chugging down his vanilla milkshake before he suddenly remembers something.

"does that mean you're gonna let him help you grade the papers for extra credit?"

you freeze. "what?"

"yea, seungmin said he needs to convince you or else he'd fail, or something. you guys talked about it already, or?"

your breath falters, and your brows furrow. "seungmin's failing a class?"

felix swallows. he cant shake off the feeling that he said something he shouldnt have. but he could never keep a secret from you.

"well- yes. his prof said he needed to convince you to help him get extra credit."

"wait, when was this?" you ask, voice stern.

oh, felix is soooo in deep shit. "uhm, like the day you guys started talking again."

your heart drops to your ass. surely, thats not the whole reason why he was so desperate to talk to you again, right? but you cant shake away the feeling, remembering back to highschool when he'd done almost the exact same thing.

but he promised. he promised it'd be different this time, right?

"seungmin told you that he needed to convince me to let him grade some papers?" you clarify.

"yea."

"and what did you say?"

"i uhm- i told him to like, turn on his charm or something along those lines."

you scoff in disbelief.

felix is going to hell. "but, that was my advice before i knew it was you! i just... i know seungmin needed some help and he'd do anything to get a good grade so i figured he was extra desperate because he was borderline failing and i was just so shocked and-"

"felix, just stop talking." you mumble, leaning back against the booth.

felix only nods, wringing his hands in nervousness. he opens his mouth to speak, but you shoot him a glare. he falls silent again, nervously gnawing on his bottom lip.

your mind's racing, going 100 miles an hour as you go through every moment youve had with seungmin this past month. obviously, this favor is not the only reason he tried hard to convince you to talk to him again, right?

but theres a small voice inside of you, the one who remembers the harsh pain seungmin caused that's screaming, telling you to cut him off, shut him out before he can hurt you all over again.

by the time seungmin pulls open the glass door, you've made up your mind.

"he-"

"this is the last time i let you break my heart, kim seungmin." you say firmly, brushing past him.

seungmin can only stand, frozen. his heart drops to his stomach, head going fuzzy as his gaze lands on felix. he opens his mouth to say something, but he cant find the words.

"what did you say?" seungmin asks.

"im sorry, i didnt know, i thought-"

seungmin's rushing out, throwing the door wide open as he runs out into the street. he can feel his heart pumping as he pushes through crowds of people, racing towards you. he can hear his blood rushing, catching sight of your yellow sundress as you're pushing open your apartment building. seungmin's never been a runner, hell, he nearly failed PE in highschool when he was forced to run laps a whole semester. but right now? he feels like the fucking flash.

he yells for you, ignoring the stitch in his side as he manages to somewhat catch up to you. by the time he throws open the heavy metal door to your apartment complex, the elevator doors are closing, your eyes locking with his.

"fuck." seungmin heaves, bending down to rest his hands on his knees. he needs to reach you before you lock him out of your room. he knows how stubborn you can be, you could probably ignore his pleas and incessant knocking for days if you had to.

seungmin gags, shaking his limbs before he bolts up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, pushing his legs to work faster. the backpack on his shoulders is heavy but he could care less. he cant risk losing you again.

sweat flows freely from his forehead by the time he reaches your floor, and by some miracle, he catches you walking down the hall.

"y/n!" he heaves, sliding his bag off his shoulders and leaving it right there in the hall. "please-"

"go away, seungmin." your voice cracks, digging for your keys in your bag.

he shakes his head, jogging up to you before you can close the door in his face. he sticks his shoe in the closing gap, groaning when it gets stuck between your door and the frame.

"what the fuck?" you yell, backing up as seungmin forces his way into your apartment, closing the door behind him.

"no you- you have to hear me out." he's panting, vision going blurry. jesus christ, he was out of shape.

"you want to talk about it?" you challenge, shrugging your coat off and throwing it on the floor.

"yes." he heaves, leaning against the wall.

"okay, lets talk about it. is it true that you wanted to convince me to help you get extra credit?" your hands are crossed in front of you. seungmin's admittedly a little scared.

"yes, but-"

"but what? i wasnt supposed to find out?"

"no! that was before-"

"before what?" you take a step closer, crowding him in.

"before i realized i was in love with you!" seungmin yells, hiding his face in his hands.

you're silent, expression stoic. "you're sick." you whisper, unsure of yourself. your heart is racing, and you take a step back. "dont... dont say that."

"but its the truth!" seungmin's desperate know, tears welling in his eyes. it wasnt supposed to happen like this. he was supposed to take you out, confess his feelings for you properly, but now its all ruined and rushed and- oh, when he gets his hands on lee felix-

"the truth?" you scoff, shaking your head at him. "how am i supposed to believe you? with everything that... that's happened?"

"you're going to have to trust me." seungmin steps forward, hesitant. he can see the doubt in your eyes and it makes him sick. he'd run up 10 flights of stairs if it meant you'd never look at him like that again.

"trust me when i say that i was a fucking fool in highschool for hurting you, and i spend every day thinking about how if i could, i would go back in time to change everything." he takes another step forward, backing you against the door to your bedroom.

"that i wasted two and a half years of my life by not spending them with you, knowing that you were so near me, that i could easily walk up to you but i was too embarrassed, too scared you'd shut me out." seungmin's baring his soul out, but its too late to stop.

"that i thought about you every single day, thought about what could have been if i wasnt so stupid. that ive spent the last few months doing everything i can to prove to you that i would never ever hurt you like that ever again. but with you im just so stupid, i feel like im always doing the wrong things because youre all up in my head taking up all the space and i fucking love that i cant think about anything but you."

you can only stare up at him. you can see the way his gaze flickers away from you, too nervous to maintain eye contact. he reaches out to you, fingers hesitantly brushing against the back of your hand. testing. you pull away from his touch to wipe away the tear that's managed to slip away, clearing your throat. he tilts his head, hands settling firmly on your waist.

"i love you, y/n. please, you have to believe me."

he's waiting for you to say something, anything. he's never poured his heart out like that before, the silence eating away at him as he slowly spirals, overthinking every word he's said.

but then you relax in his hold, pressing your chest subtly against his. and he knows there's hope.

"are you really failing a class?" you whisper, and seungmin can only laugh.

"that's your concern?" he leans down, dragging the tip of his nose against your cheek. he inhales deeply, nuzzling against you.

"well, yes." you gently push him away by the shoulder, looking up at him. "i cant have my boyfriend failing any of his classes."

seungmin smiles, absolutely melting when you wrap your arms around his neck. "oh yea? does that mean you'll let me in on the extra credit?"

"you are on thin, thin ice, seungmin." you warn, reaching up to finally press your lips against his. seungmin absolutely melts, letting out a low groan at your taste. one hand on your waist, seungmin leans into you, reaching behind you to open your bedroom door. you gasp when you lose balance, recovering quickly when seungmin walks you backwards, never once pulling away from you until the back of your knees hit your bed.

you let out a squeal when you fall back, seungmin expertly finding his way in between your legs. "tell me you want me," seungmin commands in between kisses, hands roaming up and down your sides.

"i do. i want you." you breathe, pushing off seungmin's jacket.

"yea?" seungmin hums, pulling back to bunch up your dress until it sits just below your ribcage. he leans back, simply staring down at you with stars in his eyes.

"stop staring at me." you mumble shyly, turning your head to the side.

"dont want to," seungmin hums, quickly throwing his shirt off into a random corner of your room. "ill look at my girl as long as i like." he leans down, capturing your lips with his.

"your girl, hmm?" you hum, smiling as he kisses his way up your stomach, fingers gripping onto the hem of your dress. your breath hitches when his fingers brush against your under boob. he smiles against your skin, looking up at you.

"aren't- arent you going to take my dress off?" you whisper into the air, and seungmin stops his teasing kisses against your hip.

"well, i was going to but then.." he kisses over the fabric, planting a wet kiss in between your breasts before latching onto your neck for a playful bite. "then i thought about how i want to fuck you in it and then take you out to dinner after."

your cheeks grow red, lightly slapping his arm at his vulgarity. "doesnt that sound better, baby?" seungmin hums, playing with the hem of your underwear.

your breath goes shaky as seungmin continues to toy with you, pads of his fingers lightly pressing against your clit from over your underwear, providing the littlest bit of friction, but enough to drive you crazy.

"seungmin, please-"

"please, what?" he teases, hips pressing into your thigh. you can feel him through his sweats, hard and aching against you. he begins to grind against you, gentle enough to tease you and get him off at the same time.

"need you to touch me." you huff, frustrated.

"i am, baby." seungmin chuckles, pads of his fingers pressing against you firmly, trailing down until he teases your entrance, soiling the fabric of your underwear with how wet you are.

"you know what i mean," you whine.

seungmin only hums, lowering his sweats just enough to free his cock. he pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt to the cold air of the room, making you shiver.

"you're so wet, baby. bet i could slide right in, huh?" seungmin teases you with his tip, tapping it firmly against your clit and trailing down to coat himself in you.

"god, just put it in, minnie." you sigh, grabbing at his shoulders.

"minnie?" seungmin smirks, nosing against your jaw. "i like that."

he finally presses in, slowly making sure you feel every inch of him. you wince a bit at the pain, and seungmin notices with a coo. he pulls your hands away from his shoulders to hold against your bed, fingers intertwining with yours.

"i'm sorry, does it hurt?" he coos, slowly pulling out to thrust back in.

"a little, its okay. kiss me."

seungmin obeys, leaning down to kiss you sweetly as he starts at an even pace. he's slow with it, stroking so deep you can feel him in your throat. it feels intimate this way, with his hands in yours, his chest pressed firmly against you. he pants into your mouth, kissing you when you start to moan too loudly.

"tell me you love me." seungmin sighs, resting his forehead against yours.

you nod, "i love you. love you minnie."

seungmin lets out a groan at that, pulling one hand away to sneak in between your bodies, tips of his fingers finding your clit. he starts to move them in circles, your high fast approaching.

"i'm gonna cum," you whine, squeezing his hand.

"cum with me, baby. please," he begs, holding you so tight against him you feel the air knocked out of you with every thrust. you cum with a whine of his name, fingers digging into the back of his hand. his hips stutter before he presses as deep as he can into you, groaning loudly as he mouths at your neck.

you're both sweaty and sticky, but seungmin pays no mind as he collapses completely on top of you, wrapping his limbs around you. he looks up at you when his breathing starts to even, a cheeky grin on his face.

"what," you laugh, pushing him away by the shoulder when he leans in to kiss you.

he loves the sound of your happiness, basking in it as he shifts closer to pull you into his side. you happily comply, ignoring the mess in between your legs in favor of cuddling up to your lover.

"i really do love you." seungmin reassures, and you roll your eyes.

"i love you too. really." you hum, kissing his shoulder. "now clean me up, and dont even think about falling asleep."

seungmin groans, rolling off your bed to reach for a towel to wet. "but we have plenty of time before dinner. we can nap!"

"no, i will nap." seungmin frowns, walking into your bathroom and turning the faucet on.

"and what do you expect me to do?" seungmin says once he returns to the room, eyebrows raised.

"you, will check all the papers left in my bag." seungmin only laughs, leaning down to wipe in between your thighs, careful to get every drop.

"then can we get dinner?" he asks, pout on his lips.

"yes. your treat."

"well, duh."

as you close your eyes and start to drift off to sleep, seungmin only watches, hunched over on your bedroom floor, hundreds of papers scattered in front of him. he prays he'll be able to get it together and pry his eyes away from you to actually get some work done.

he seriously doubts it.

taglist: comment if you want to be added or removed!

@pochamin22 @bee123sthings @ohnocent @hyunchannie017 @r1n4 @heluvschibi @kpop-obsessed-all-the-time @elizalabs3 @uknowme-not @bee123sthings @n034sy

#seung mong!#skz #stray kids #skz smut #skz fanfic #skz fluff #skz angst #seungmin x reader #seungmin smut #seungmin angst #seungmin fluff #skz imagine

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sluttapes · 5 days ago

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⌞ 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟 ⌝

christoper owen & matthew bernard sturniolo

𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘺!𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴ㆍ𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴!𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵ㆍ𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥ㆍ𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘪-𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤ㆍ𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬ㆍ𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴ㆍ𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ

the drive the next morning was quiet. too quiet.

you sat in the backseat, your body curled slightly toward the window, head resting against the cool glass as the car rolled down the wet mountain roads. the rain had stopped, but the sky was still heavy and gray. it matched the weight in the air between the three of you perfectly. matt drove in silence, one hand on the wheel, the other resting against his thigh. his face was unreadable, his gaze steady on the road. you could see the tension in his jaw, though—tight and sharp, like he was chewing on something he wasn’t ready to spit out.

chris sat beside you, arms crossed, one leg bouncing restlessly. he hadn’t looked at either of you since you got in the car, but his presence was loud. too loud. every shift of his body, every exhale, every sideways glance you caught in your peripheral—it all screamed one thing: he was pissed.

and he hadn’t even said anything yet.

the silence stretched on. long enough to make your stomach knot. long enough to make your skin crawl with heat and guilt and confusion. then chris spoke.

“you know,” he said, casually, voice sharp enough to cut glass. “you two were quiet last night. real quiet.”

your jaw clenched. matt didn’t respond, eyes locked on the road.

chris leaned back, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “like, so quiet i almost thought you weren’t even doing anything.”

you didn’t say a word. didn’t dare to.

“but then again,” he continued, glancing sideways at you now, “you’re not usually quiet, are you?”

your breath caught.

chris smirked when you didn’t respond. “see, i think you wanted me to hear. even if you didn’t say it. part of you wanted me to know. just to get a rise out of me.”

matt exhaled hard through his nose. “jesus, chris.”

“what?” he shrugged, turning to him. “i’m just sayin’. you might’ve fucked her, but i know i could’ve made those pretty moans louder.”

your face flushed hot. embarrassment and something else—something deeper—curled in your stomach like smoke.

matt still didn’t look back. “maybe you should’ve tried acting like you wanted her last night instead of being a moody little bitch.”

“oh, and what, you were just being a gentleman when you started pawing at her like a dog in heat?”

you didn’t know where to look. the car felt too small, the air too tight, like it was pressing against your ribs.

“say what you want,” matt said coolly, eyes still on the road, “but at least she came to my bed. at least she wanted me.”

that one hit. you felt it in the shift of chris’s posture. he turned to you fully now, and you could feel his gaze on you before you saw it.

“that true, baby?” he asked, voice low. “you wanted him?”

your lips parted, but no sound came out. your throat felt dry, your heart pounding like a warning. he leaned closer, one hand brushing against your bare thigh—your shorts riding up from the position you’d curled into.

“you really think he made you feel as good as i could’ve?”

“chris,” you whispered, unsure if it was a plea or a warning.

“what?” he said, voice dropping lower, almost a murmur. “you didn’t have a problem with matt fucking you last night. we both know i can do it better.”

your breath caught again.

his hand didn’t leave your thigh. instead, he dragged his fingers along the inside slowly, deliberately. “want me to prove it?”

you shrugged, opening your mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. they just sat there, stuck between your tongue and your teeth, too heavy to lift. you stuttered, a quiet, confused sound leaving your throat.

“i—i don’t…”

chris’s hand moved higher, his palm settling just under the hem of your shorts. matt glanced in the rearview mirror, his eyes locking with yours for a split second. the look he gave you was unreadable—half warning, half dare. you didn’t stop chris when he tugged gently at your shorts, guiding them lower with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. your legs shifted on instinct, and he took the opening—hooking one of your thighs over his lap, the other bent back against the footwell behind the passenger seat. your whole body tensed. exposed. vulnerable. and watched. matt was silent, but you saw him looking. the mirror caught everything—the way chris’s hand slid along the inside of your thigh, the way your shorts bunched down low, the way your chest rose and fell faster with each second.

chris leaned in again, whispering against your ear, “you gonna tell me to stop?”

you didn’t answer. you didn’t want him to stop.

his fingers ghosted higher, teasing but not touching. “yeah… didn’t think so.”

matt’s voice cut in—low, calm, but ice-cold. “you better think before you do something stupid, chris.”

“what?” chris replied, mock-innocent. “you had your fun. i’m just trying to even the score.”

matt’s jaw tightened. “this isn’t a fucking game.”

“you sure?” chris smirked, eyes flicking between you and the mirror. “’cause it kinda feels like one.”

the car was still moving, winding down slick roads, but everything inside felt like it was teetering on a knife’s edge. your body trembled, not from fear—but from the sheer weight of attention, of heat, of being wanted by both of them in such a raw, messy, almost dangerous way. you didn’t know what was about to happen. you just knew—something was going to break.

the way they turned it into a competition—a silent, sharp-edged contest—should’ve made you roll your eyes. should’ve made you laugh, maybe. but you couldn’t bring yourself to find it funny.

your stomach twisted with nerves, with want, with something dark and unfamiliar. the kind of tension that made your breath shallow, that made the space between your legs throb with awareness. chris’s fingers skimmed just under the edge of your shorts again, slow and testing. and you didn’t stop him.

matt still hadn’t said a word. but the way he was looking at you through the mirror said enough. he wasn’t warning anymore. he was watching.

and god, the way he was watching you—it made something hot coil in your gut. his eyes didn’t leave yours, not even when chris shifted beside you, his hand finally slipping under your shorts in full, his fingers brushing against you over your underwear. your hips twitched at the contact, a small, unintentional sound leaving your throat.

matt saw it. heard it.

you couldn’t look away from him, even as chris leaned in again, his lips at your ear.

“you’re so wet.”

your cheeks flushed instantly, but you didn’t deny it. couldn’t. his fingers stroked slowly, deliberately, and your thighs tightened around his hand, breath catching in your chest.

matt’s voice was low—steady, but thick with something he wasn’t even trying to hide anymore. “keep going.”

chris paused, just for a second. “what?”

“you heard me,” matt said, not looking back—just watching you in the mirror. “go ahead. i wanna see it.”

the shift in the air was immediate. your entire body buzzed, overwhelmed and lit up. it was too much—but not enough at the same time. every nerve was alive. you turned your head slightly, enough to glance at matt through the mirror, eyes wide.

“matt…”

his eyes locked with yours. calm. hungry. “i want you to enjoy it.”

you swallowed thickly.

chris grinned now, smug and sharp. “guess you like an audience, huh?”

you wanted to be embarrassed, to pull away, to say something that would make it all stop—but instead, your hips tilted toward his hand, almost involuntarily. and matt saw that too.

“fuck,” matt muttered, hand gripping the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white.

your leg tensed on chris’s lap as his touch grew firmer, more confident. and even though you were shaking—half with nerves, half with arousal—you didn’t stop it. didn’t want to.

your fingers curled into the fabric of the seat, the soft press of chris’s mouth grazing your jaw now, as he moved against you. his free hand steadied your waist, as if he was making sure you wouldn’t go anywhere. the car kept moving. you didn’t know where this would go—or how far either of them would push. but what you did know, was that whatever line had once existed between the three of you… it was gone now.

you should’ve told them to stop.

any version of you—logical, careful, cautious—would’ve said something. but that version was far away now, drowned out by the heat that had settled low in your belly, by the way your body ached from being touched and watched at the same time. chris’s fingers moved with more purpose now, slow and firm through your underwear. deliberate. like he was trying to prove a point with every stroke. and it was working—your body was giving you away. you couldn’t hide the way your hips pressed toward his hand, couldn’t stop the quiet, desperate breaths that escaped you no matter how hard you tried to bite them back.

he leaned closer, his voice just a whisper near your jaw. “see that, matt?” he said smugly. “she’s fuckin’ dripping.”

matt didn’t answer at first. he didn’t have to. his eyes were still locked with yours in the rearview mirror, heavy-lidded and unreadable, his mouth set in a straight line—but his grip on the wheel was tense. tight.

“is that true?” he asked finally, voice low and smooth. “you letting him get you that worked up?”

you couldn’t even lie. you nodded once, jaw clenched, face hot with the weight of both of their attention. your breath caught when chris pushed your underwear slightly to the side, his fingers skimming you bare now, slow and steady, teasing your edge as his fingers drew slow, teasing circles over your clit. your head fell back against the seat with a soft, shuddering sound.

“shit,” chris muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “didn’t think you’d actually let me do this.”

“don’t flatter yourself,” matt said, voice rough with something darker now. “you didn’t get there on your own.”

chris scoffed. “jealous?”

matt gave a quiet laugh, one hand adjusting on the wheel. “not even close. i wanted to see this.”

your eyes fluttered open at that, catching his gaze again through the mirror. it was different now. darker. possessive. the look in his eyes made your whole body jolt. it was like a current ran through you—too much, but not enough. chris’s hand moved in response to that shift, his touch intensifying. your leg was still draped across his lap, one of your feet resting awkwardly on the center console now, your whole body angled toward him. exposed. flushed. needy. and god, you couldn’t even pretend to act normal anymore. not with the way matt was watching. not with the way chris's fingers picked up the pace, focusing on your clit.

the silence was heavy. the car filled only with the sound of the tires against the wet road, the slick sound of chris playing with your wet, needy pussy, and your soft, uneven breaths.

chris leaned in again, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “you gonna let me finish what he started?” he asked, cocky and low, like he already knew the answer.

matt didn’t say anything this time. he didn’t need to. because the look in the mirror said it all. the air was electric, thick with the sound of your hitched breaths and the slick, sinful rhythm of chris’s fingers working you open. his touch drifted lower, circling your entrance before pressing two fingers into you with a slow, deliberate thrust. your back arched off the seat, a gasp tearing from your throat as he curled his fingers just right, hitting that spot that made your vision blur.

“fuck,” chris hissed, his voice rough with approval. “so fuckin’ sexy, sucking me in like that.”

his thumb brushed your clit in time with each deep stroke, and your hips jerked helplessly against his hand. “that’s it, baby—ride my hand. show him how good i can make you feel.”

matt’s knuckles whitened on the wheel, his eyes flicking to the mirror again. you could see the hunger there now, the way his gaze raked over your splayed legs, chris’s wrist moving between your thighs.

“attagirl,” chris murmured, low and smoky, the praise sending a fresh wave of heat to your core. he chuckled darkly, his lips grazing your ear.

“oh, look at him. can’t even look away.. bet it’s killing him.” he smirked, his eyes meeting matt’s, making sure he heard it all.

you whimpered, nails digging into the seat, but he didn’t relent. “c’mon, mama—squeeze me just like that. fuck, you’re perfect.”

the pressure built mercilessly, your body coiling tighter with every pass of his thumb. you were close—so close—but chris slowed his pace, teasing your clit with featherlight strokes.

“not yet,” he growled, ignoring your frustrated whine. “i want you beggin’ for it. want you to moan my name while i make you cum so he knows how much better i can make you feel.”

matt’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding. “do it.” the car swerved slightly as he glanced back, his composure cracking. “think you’re so much better, chris? so do it. make her feel good.”

chris’s smirk was feral. he shifted, pinning your hips harder against the seat as his fingers plunged deeper, faster, his thumb grinding rough, relentless circles.

“you hear that tone in his voice, baby? he’s jealous.” your legs trembled, thighs shaking as he drove you toward the edge. “but we don’t give a fuck about that right now, don’t we? s’ my turn now to make him jealous anyway, hm?”

you couldn’t answer—couldn’t think. the world narrowed to the heat between your legs, the crude, wet sounds of his hand working you, the way matt’s chest heaved as he watched. chris’s breath came ragged against your neck.

“that’s it, ma, cum f’me.”

your orgasm hit like a thunderclap. your back bowed off the seat, a broken cry tearing free as you ground down on his hand, waves of pleasure ripping through you so violently your lungs burned. chris didn’t let up, his fingers fucking you through it, his praise a growl in your ear.

“gooood girl. that’s it—soak me. let him see what he’s not getting.”

matt’s low curse filled the car as your release slicked chris’s fingers, the sound lewd and undeniable.

the car ride took a turn. you knew that, obviously. but you weren't ready for whatever would happen next, how the three of you could ever be normal around each other again. what happened, between you and matt, between you and chris, between all of you, was incredibly hot. something you never would've done. you were sober now, all of you were, and it made you realize how it wasn't just the alcohol last night.

never in a million years would you have thought you'd have your best friends in this way. but god. you loved it.

previous tape tape extension

dividers by @strangergraphics

@applecidersturniolo you actually cooked with giving me this idea

🎞️ @tits4matt @loser41ifee @sweetshuga @nickysturnss @courta13 @sophsturns @starsforu @h3arts4nat @emely9274 @sturnsrecord

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cherrychilli · 1 month ago

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18+ Steve Harrington X F! reader, friends to lovers, flashing (f) WC: 762 Summary: Steve's amazed by the number of things you can fit in your bra when you refuse to lug around a bag with you.

In the last two hours you'd pulled out a wad of fives to pay for the snacks you'd both picked up at the gas station, then a lighter as the two of you sat out on the hood of Steve's car, overlooking Lovers Lake while you had a smoke and last, a pack of minty gum for you to chew and smack on when you got back in the car.

What fascinated Steve was that none of these items had been stored inside a bag like one might expect, all of them pulled out of your bra like it was an entirely normal thing to do. Unable to ignore it any longer and more than a little flustered, he finally breaks his silence on the matter.

"Okay, I have to know. What else do you have in there?", Steve carefully gestures vaguely in the direction of your breasts, looking all kinds of exasperated. You return his look with an amused smirk.

"I'll give you two guesses", you puff your chest out, the answer so obvious it makes him roll his eyes.

"Not them- uh, those. I mean, c'mon. Doesn't it ever get, I don't know...uncomfortable having to wedge it all in there?", he asks trying and failing to choose his words carefully while his eyes flicked back and forth between your face and your cleavage.

You see your chance and pounce at it, especially since he'd set you up for it so perfectly.

"I don't mind a tight fit, Steve", you chew on your gum with a wink, torturing the poor boy as you leisurely blow a bubble big enough to pop.

"You- you know what I uh, what I meant", he tells you while trying his damndest to appear composed, his voice giving him away when it cracks enough to make you snicker.

He does have a point though, you could admit that much as you cut the jokes and decide to answer with a simple shrug. "I don't know. It's something I just got used to. There's enough space for everything I need. And besides, I hate having to carry a bag around. those things make my shoulders sore as all hell", you explain honestly although you can tell that Steve's nowhere near ready to move on from the subject just yet.

"Tell you what. Since you're so interested, how about a game? loser has to do whatever the winner says if you can guess how many other items I've got in here.

"Seriously?", he checks, eyes all round and alert.

"Yup", you confirm.

Knowing of three items already, he thinks hard. Much harder than he ever has before, his eyes fixed on your breasts, trying to ascertain what else might be hiding under your clothing, even working up a light sweat near his temple which makes you giggle.

Steve's making it out to be some sort of life or death deal and honestly, you liked how seriously he was taking this, showing you how much and how badly he wants to get a peek under your sweater.

"C'mon Harrington. Don't wanna be out here all day you know", you chide after another minute ticks by.

"Okay...five?"

Reaching inside, out comes the lighter, the gum and the money again, his eyes still hopeful when you fish out your apartment key followed by a tube of lip balm only for his face to crumble when you finally pull out a spare hair tie.

So close. He'd been so damn close as a really pitiful look of defeat spills over his face.

"Okay, so what to you want from me?", he groans, ever the sore loser.

You might have won but you don't feel any thrill in having done so. If you were being completely honest, you weren't exactly mad at the thought of Steve winning. In fact, you'd quietly hoped for him to do so just to see what he might have asked of you.

Well, you've got a pretty good guess as to what it might be.

Boobies, of course.

You didn't have to. You really didn't have to but the sight of him like this makes you feel oddly compelled to reward him anyway. Anything to wipe that dour look on his face.

Reaching round, you watch Steve's perplexed face with glee as you unclasp your bra and pull it out through your sleeve so seamlessly, winking at him before picking up the hem of your shirt and lifting it up to let him see your breasts bounce free and bare.

"Your undivided attention", you grin at his cherry red face, knowing full well this wouldn't be the last time you let him see them.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington x reader

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levanterhaze · 2 months ago

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── GAMEBOY, BANGCHAN

♡ ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader dirty talk, masturbation, rough sex, slight choking, use of nicknames, overstimulation among other things I can't even name

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[10k words ]♡― once again, I must thank you all for your love and for continuing to enjoy gameboy! this chapter is a bit long, but for me it's interesting to write the development of the characters to get where we want to go! don't forget to listen to the playlist and those who just got here PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one] ♡ [part two] ♡ [part three] ♡ [part four]

On the corner of my bed Oh, and maybe on the beach You could do it on your own While you're lookin' at me

After absolutely killing your performance of Out Here On My Own, the applause hit you like a tidal wave. A standing ovation. Even Mrs. Baek looked mildly impressed, which, considering her usual stone-cold demeanor, basically meant she was internally sobbing.

And just like that, all the nerves? Gone. Vanished into thin air like they were never even there.

Bangchan had been watching—because of course, he had—but before you could revel in that fact for too long, he got a call and had to bounce. Typical.

You should have been freaking out about the whole making out backstage situation. Should’ve been scanning every corner for witnesses, mentally preparing for a campus-wide scandal. But weirdly? You weren’t. That reckless, confident part of you—the one still floating on cloud nine—did not care. If anything, you could still feel him. His touch on your waist like a phantom burn, his lips still branded on yours.

But whatever. You had bigger things to stress about. The final list wasn’t coming out until Monday, which meant you had the entire weekend to sit in pure, unfiltered agony over it. Luckily, Saturday’s party was the perfect excuse to get out of your head for a while.

Fast forward through a day of pretending to be studious with Sohee—aka desperately trying to focus while your brain replayed that kiss—you finally took a well-earned shower and decided to go for a solo nighttime stroll.

Campus was still alive, students buzzing around in little clusters, laughing and talking like they didn’t have impending deadlines. You shoved your headphones in, following the athletics track, which was mostly empty by now.

The night air had that perfect, crisp breeze—the kind that made you grateful you threw on a cardigan. And just when you thought the moment couldn’t get any better, Wonderwall started playing. You smirked to yourself. Damn, you loved this song.

And yet, with every step, your brain kept poking at you like an annoying little sibling. Anxiety, sure. But let’s not forget the other mess currently occupying premium real estate in your mind—Hyunjin.

You hadn’t talked to him since you drunkenly spilled your guts, quite literally, about your whole Bangchan situation. And if you were being honest, which you weren’t, at least not with yourself, you were actively dodging that conversation. Because talking to Hyunjin meant facing your own feelings, and frankly, you were not clocked in for that emotional labor.

Your phone lit up mid-walk.

Mingyu: can I see you today?

You chewed on your lip, staring at the message. It was almost ridiculous how this boy—new, uncomplicated, and seemingly sincere—wanted something real with you. And yet, here you were, hesitating. Because no matter how nice Mingyu was, your brain wasn’t stuck on him.

It was stuck on someone else.

On a certain maddening, frustrating, insanely good kisser who had, at some point, tattooed himself onto your skin. If physical touch could be permanent, Bangchan’s hands would be everywhere on you. And, let’s be honest, you wouldn’t exactly be filing a complaint about it.

Before you even processed the decision, your feet had already made it for you. You were crossing campus, heading straight for his dorm.

Because you needed to talk. Like adults. No teasing, no sarcastic little jabs—just honesty.

And, okay, maybe you needed to see him, too. Feel him. More than ever.

Your determination was fuel to the fire already burning inside you. Your heart was pounding, your brain was screaming at you to calm down, but your body wasn’t taking any orders tonight. That feverish, all-consuming pull settled deep in your gut, an intoxicating mix of adrenaline, nerves, and something terrifyingly real.

You took the stairs two at a time, like the damn dorm might vanish before you got there.

By the time you reached his door, you were clutching your excitement close, biting back a smile even as your fingers trembled. Deep breath. You knocked, quick and sure.

It’s fine. He’ll listen. You’ll talk. You’ll finally—

The door swung open.

And instead of a tall, dark-haired boy, you were met with her.

She was pretty. Unfairly, effortlessly pretty—the kind of girl who belonged on magazine covers and in the daydreams of poets. Medium height, light hair, bright eyes. The kind of face men went to war over.

Your stomach dropped like a stone.

“Hi!” she greeted, all warmth and ease, completely oblivious to the way the air had just been sucked out of your lungs.

You swallowed, forcing a polite nod. “Uh, hey… is Bangchan here?”

She shook her head, smiling like this was just any other casual conversation. And that’s when you noticed it—his black t-shirt, draped over her frame.

“Oh, no. He went to grab some food.” she tilted her head, something curious in her gaze. “Are you a friend of his? Oh! Sorry—I’m Yeojin. His girlfriend. And you are…?”

Her words hit like a gut punch, sucking the warmth right out of your chest.

A bitter laugh bubbled up, but you swallowed it down, masking the sting with a tight-lipped smile. “A classmate,” you said smoothly. “I just had a question, but… I think it can wait till Monday.”

And just like that, the fire inside you? Extinguished.

The girl pursed her glossy lips, then nodded politely. “Okay. I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

“No need.” the words left your mouth before she could even finish. “Thanks, Yeojin.”

Her name felt like venom rolling off your tongue, thick and bitter, coating your mouth with something vile.

By the time you hit the stairs, you were moving so fast you were honestly surprised you didn’t wipe out. Your pulse was a hammer against your ribs, your breath uneven. Your brain hadn’t even caught up yet—stuck on a loop, trying to process the absolute train wreck that had just unfolded.

He had a girlfriend this whole time.

He lied to you.

He did exactly what everyone said he would.

The sharp sting of disappointment curdled into full-blown anger. Your steps turned heavier, each one smacking against the pavement like a silent war drum. You were so locked into getting to your dorm—so wound up with the need to disappear into your own space—you probably would’ve plowed through half a dozen people without a second thought.

But fate had a sick sense of humor. Because halfway across campus, you spotted him.

Bangchan, heading back toward the dorms, a paper bag dangling from his hand—food, obviously, because why wouldn’t he be casually picking up dinner while your world imploded?

His eyes lit up the second he saw you, but that moment of warmth flickered out fast when you didn’t even look at him. Didn’t slow down. Didn’t hesitate. Just walked right past him like he was nothing—like he was air—nearly clipping his arm in the process.

He stood there for two seconds, frozen, before spinning around. Your name tore from his lips, sharp and urgent.

“What happened?” when you didn’t answer, his voice shot up, strained. “Where are you going?”

You sucked in a deep breath, your whole body practically vibrating with anger. Then, before you could stop yourself, you spun around and marched right back toward him, each step digging into the grass like you were stomping out a fire.

“To my dorm,” you snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business. Oh, and fun fact—I just came back from yours.” sarcasm dripped from your voice like honey laced with poison.

Bangchan blinked, his brain buffering like a slow-loading webpage. The look on his face almost made you laugh—almost. Instead, you just smiled, sharp and humorless. Yeah, process that, asshole.

You turned to leave, but before you could, his hand caught yours. Not your wrist, like some desperate last-ditch grab—your hand. Like he meant it. And the second your skin met his, it was like touching an open flame.

“Let me explain.” his voice was tight, urgent.

“Don’t touch me.” you yanked your hand back like it burned. “I don’t give a shit about whatever excuse you’re about to pull out of your ass.”

His jaw clenched. “Can you stop being so damn stubborn and just listen to me for once?”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, you wanna explain?” you licked your lips, tasting nothing but bitterness. “Go ahead. Explain how you had a girlfriend this whole time while you were fucking around with me.”

The words landed like a punch to the gut—on both of you.

Because, deep down, being with you had never been defined. No labels. No promises. No safety net to fall back on. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Bangchan’s brows snapped together. “What? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t even try it.” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re really gonna stand there and lie to my face? I saw her.”

His frustration bubbled over, his arms flying up in exasperation. “I genuinely have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” his voice cracked with frustration. He looked at you like he was praying for some divine intervention to make sense of this mess. “If you’re talking about—”

“Just go back to your girlfriend and leave me alone, Bangchan.” your voice was steady, but he wasn’t stupid—he saw the fire still burning in your eyes, catching in the moonlight.

And maybe if he had taken half a second to think, he wouldn’t have said it. Maybe he would’ve swallowed his pride and stopped himself from making it worse.

But he didn’t.

“Whatever, right?” he scoffed, voice laced with something bitter. “It’s not like we were anything.”

You pressed your lips together, jaw tight, throat burning like you’d swallowed glass. And for the first time in your life, really the first, you felt so humiliated—so stupid—that your eyes burned with unshed tears.

Bangchan saw it. Saw the way your waterline glistened, saw the way your breath hitched, but you wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him. Not for him.

“If you really think that’s the problem, then that says a whole lot more about you than it does about me.” your voice was sharp, but quiet, like a blade sliding back into its sheath.

And just like that, the conversation was over.

You turned on your heel and walked away, each step fueled by a firestorm of anger, hurt, and something else you weren’t ready to name. Bangchan watched you go, standing frozen in place, and by the time he even thought about stopping you—

It was too late.

Outside your dorm, you yanked your phone out of your pocket, fingers flying across the screen like a woman on a mission. Your pulse was still hammering, adrenaline buzzing under your skin as you pulled up Mingyu’s contact and typed without hesitation.

You: Feel like crashing a party on Saturday?

Barely a beat passed before your phone vibrated with his response.

Mingyu: You had me at “party.”

Bangchan pushed open the door to his dorm with more force than necessary, letting it slam shut behind him. His pulse was still racing, his jaw tight with frustration.

And there she was. Yeojin.

Lying on his bed, scrolling through her phone like she owned the place. His old sweatshirt was hanging off her shoulder, and she barely spared him a glance when he walked in.

“Oh, you’re back,” she said, swinging her legs idly. “Didn’t take you long.”

Bangchan set his bag of takeout on the desk and exhaled sharply through his nose. “What the hell did you say to her?”

Yeojin finally looked up, her expression the perfect blend of innocence and amusement. “Say what exactly?”

His fingers flexed at his sides. “You know what,” he ground out. “You told her we’re together. Why?”

She tilted her head, brows lifting. “I never said that.”

Bangchan let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeojin, don’t play games with me.”

“I didn’t, Chan.” she sighed dramatically, stretching her arms over her head. “She asked if you were here, I said no, and I introduced myself. It’s not my fault if she jumped to conclusions.”

He clenched his jaw, glaring at her. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

She just smiled. “So what if it is?” her voice dropped, teasing, as she sat up. “You used to like when I messed with people.”

Bangchan took a step back when she reached for him, his whole body recoiling instinctively.

“We’re not kids anymore, Yeojin,” he muttered. “And I don’t have time for this.” he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. “I got Thai food. Help yourself.”

Before she could say anything else, he was gone.

The cool night air did little to calm Bangchan’s nerves as he walked toward the basketball court, fists shoved in his hoodie pockets. His mind was a mess, replaying the way you had looked at him—like he was exactly what people warned you about.

Before he could spiral further, a familiar voice cut through his thoughts.

“Damn, what’s with the face?” Changbin asked, appearing from the other side of the path. “You look like you wanna punch a hole in a wall.”

Bangchan exhaled sharply. “Not a wall.”

Changbin frowned. “What the hell happened?”

Bangchan hesitated before tilting his head toward the court. “Basketball first. Talking later.”

Changbin smirked. “I like where this is going.”

Fifteen minutes later, Bangchan sat on the edge of the basketball court, legs stretched out, elbows resting on his knees, looking like life had personally drop-kicked him.

Across from him, Changbin dribbled the ball lazily, waiting. And waiting. Until his patience ran out.

“So?” Changbin finally asked, passing him the ball. “Spill.”

Bangchan caught it, staring at it for a second before shaking his head. “Yeojin’s here.”

Changbin nearly fumbled the rebound. “I’m sorry—what?” his face twisted in immediate disgust. “What the hell is she doing here?”

Bangchan sighed. “She came to visit. Said she was in town. It’s been years, and I figured—whatever, right? No harm in catching up.”

Changbin let out a dry laugh. “No harm? Bro, she’s a walking red flag. Why would you even entertain that?”

Bangchan pressed his tongue against his cheek. “I don’t know, man. Nostalgia? I mean, we didn’t exactly end badly, we just—” he sighed. “Didn’t work.”

Changbin scoffed. “Yeah, well, I never liked her. You know that.”

Bangchan dribbled once, then tossed the ball toward the hoop. It hit the rim, circled, then dropped through the net. “There’s more.”

Changbin folded his arms. “Yeah, no shit. You’re sitting here like you just found out Santa isn’t real. What else happened?”

Bangchan caught the rebound and exhaled. “She saw.”

Changbin frowned. “Saw what?”

Bangchan gave him a look.

“Oh.” Changbin winced. “Shit.” he let out a slow whistle. “That’s… bad.”

“No shit,” Bangchan muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “She showed up at my dorm, and instead of me opening the door, Yeojin did.”

Changbin groaned. “Dude. No.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” Bangchan went on, voice dripping with frustration. “Yeojin, being the manipulative little menace she is, basically introduced herself as my girlfriend.”

Changbin stared at him like he just admitted to murder. “And she believed that?”

Bangchan laughed bitterly. “Why wouldn’t she? The look she gave me, man… like I was exactly what she expected. Some asshole playing games.”

Changbin studied him for a second. “And that bothers you.”

Bangchan scoffed. “Of course it fucking bothers me.” he leaned forward, gripping the ball tight. “She drives me insane, Bin. Like—she acts like it’s nothing. Like whatever we had was just this casual, meaningless thing. But then she turns around and—” he exhaled sharply. “Her actions say otherwise. She looks at me like she feels something. She reacts like she cares. But every time I get close, she shuts it down.”

Changbin snorted, rolling the ball between his palms. “So basically, she’s bullshitting, you’re bullshitting, and now you’re both miserable?”

Bangchan shot him a glare.

Changbin smirked. “I mean, she won’t admit she likes you, and you’re sitting here trauma-dumping on me instead of doing something about it.”

Bangchan groaned, tilting his head back against the wall. “She’s pissed, Bin. Like, really pissed.”

“So fix it.”

Bangchan laughed humorlessly. “Yeah. Easier said than done.”

Changbin passed him the ball. “So what now?”

Bangchan caught it, staring down at the faded lettering on the rubber. That was the question, wasn’t it? Because right now, you wanted nothing to do with him.

And honestly? He deserved it.

Saturday morning. Group breakfast. Good vibes. At least, that’s what you were aiming for.

You were mid-story, telling Felix how the auditions had gone, when the universe decided to test your patience. Again.

Changbin strolled in with Jisung, Bangchan, and—you had to blink twice just to confirm—Yeojin.

Of course. Because it wasn’t enough that he lied. He had to parade it around like some kind of grand event.

“I need a fat slice of chocolate cake,” Changbin announced, dropping into his seat. “Something sweet to cleanse the absolute trash energy in the air.”

Your eyes flicked to Yeojin, who was standing a little too comfortably next to Bangchan.

“Yeojin, long time no see,” Hyunjin greeted, all polite and civil.

She beamed. “Hyunjin! Oh my God, it’s really you!” she gushed, voice dripping with enthusiasm. You wanted to be a girl’s girl, really—you did. But something about her tone made your eye twitch.

“Who’s that?” Sohee whispered, not even bothering to be discreet.

“Oh, nice to meet you,” Yeojin said, flashing a smile that felt way too rehearsed. “Yeojin. Chan’s friend.”

She said it like she was accepting a damn award. The table went dead silent. Everyone shared a look.

You, however, remained completely unbothered, taking a slow sip of your strawberry milk like you had all the time in the world.

Bangchan slid into the seat across from you, throwing not-so-subtle glances in your direction—just in case you maybe wanted to acknowledge his existence.

You didn’t. Instead, you busied yourself with literally anything else. The napkins. The straw in your drink. The slow, satisfying process of ignoring him.

If he wanted your attention, he’d have to earn it.

Yeojin was annoyingly easy to get along with. Effortless charm, perfectly timed laughs—like she’d studied the art of socializing and graduated top of her class. And maybe that wouldn’t have bothered you if you didn’t feel an immediate, inexplicable urge to dislike her.

Maybe it was the way she smiled just a little too much. Like she was in on some inside joke that no one else was laughing at. Or how she leaned into Bangchan like he had his own gravitational pull, always conveniently this close to falling into his lap.

For someone who had been so desperate to explain himself last night, he looked awfully comfortable letting her cling to him now.

“So, everyone’s going tonight, right?” Jisung asked, drumming his fingers on the table.

Yeojin jumped on the conversation like it was an open invitation. “What’s tonight?”

“Jisung’s DJing at a party,” Eunji answered, taking a sip of her drink.

Yeojin hummed, tilting her head in that thoughtful but not really way. “I was going to leave after lunch, but… I guess I can stay a little longer.”

She glanced at Bangchan like she was waiting for permission.

Too bad he wasn’t paying attention. His focus was glued to his phone, fingers tapping out a message.

Your own phone buzzed in your pocket.

Bangchan: can we talk?

Your eyes flicked up, purely on instinct. And there he was. Watching you.

You frowned, pulled out your phone, read the message, and stuffed it right back in your pocket. No response.

The table blurred into background noise. Laughter, conversation, the occasional clatter of silverware—it all melted into static. Because Bangchan was still looking. That steady, expectant stare that made your skin itch. That made your chest feel a little too tight.

Your phone buzzed again.

Bangchan: you can’t ignore me forever.

Bet.

You smirked to yourself. If Bangchan thought he could tell you what to do, he had another thing coming.

Grabbing the strap of your bag, you stood up, all casual confidence, and turned to Sohee and Eunji. “I’m heading out with Hyunjin.” no further explanation. Just a statement.

Hyunjin, caught in the crossfire of whatever this was, frowned. “Wait—what? Since when?”

You just kept walking, tossing a grin over your shoulder. “Since right now. Just smile and act natural.”

You made sure to take the long way around the table, passing directly in front of Bangchan—not looking at him. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Just air.

Hyunjin, still struggling to keep up, shot a quick glance back before leaning in. “Okay, seriously, what was that? Bangchan looked like he was about to start breathing fire.”

You flicked your hair over your shoulder, your smirk widening.

“Revenge, Hyun. Just a little harmless revenge.”

The house was packed.

Neon lights flickered wildly, splashing the room in chaotic waves of electric blue and fiery red, pulsing in sync with the bass. The air was thick—heat, sweat, cheap cologne, and the sharp sting of alcohol weaving together into something intoxicating. The floor thrummed beneath your boots, bodies moving in effortless rhythm, a silent agreement to just let go.

Jisung was at the DJ booth, throwing in ad-libs between transitions, hyping up the crowd like he was born for this. A remix dropped, shaking the walls, and the entire party roared in approval. Off-campus ragers had a way of making reality blur, like stepping into a fever dream.

Perfect.

Eunji and Sohee spotted you first, their eyes going comically wide, like they’d just witnessed the second coming of Christ.

“Jesus, look at you,” Sohee gasped, gripping your arm for dear life.

Eunji gave a solemn nod. “This outfit should be illegal.”

You twirled, just enough to let your skirt flare out, a little reminder of why you picked it.

“Drinks first, right?” you pointed at Hyunjin, who gave you an approving nod.

You peeled away from the group, squeezing through the sweaty crowd toward a corner where a massive keg stood like a beacon of bad decisions. There were stronger drinks, but you decided to take it easy—for now.

Then, in half a second, you felt it. Like your body already knew, like a moth drawn to a flame.

Under the pulsing red lights, he looked dangerous. A predator in slow motion, moving through the crowd with that effortless, lazy confidence that made people either run toward him or clear a path. Flashes of white and blue caught the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint sheen of sweat at his collarbone. A contrast—razor-edged and infuriatingly soft all at once.

And yet. You couldn’t focus on any of that.

Because Yeojin was practically clinging to him.

Talking—laughing, leaning, performing—but Bangchan barely seemed to notice. If anything, he looked somewhere else entirely. Somewhere you were. Because the second your eyes met, his focus locked in.

And he started moving. One step. Then another.

But before he could take a third, an arm slid around your waist.

Mingyu.

His touch was warm, firm—a perfectly timed lifeline. His lips brushed against your ear, voice low and deliberate. “Have I mentioned you look insane tonight?”

A slow, satisfied smile curled on your lips. Perfect.

Through the neon haze, you caught Bangchan’s reaction over Mingyu’s shoulder. Electric blue light flickered across his face like something straight out of a movie scene.

Oh, he was pissed. Not just annoyed. Not just irritated. Seething.

Jaw clenched. Shoulders tight. Eyes locked onto you with an intensity that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

Good.

Mingyu pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Dance with me?”

You let the question hang, stretching the moment just because you could—fully aware of your audience. Then, with a casual flick of your fingers, you grabbed Mingyu’s wrist and turned back to your friends.

And that’s when the remix hit.

The song of the summer. A full-blown club anthem blasted through the house, lights flashing in sync with the bass, and suddenly Eunji and Sohee were dragging you onto the dance floor. You barely had time to toss Mingyu a look before pulling him into the crowd with you.

Sohee was already wrapped around her boyfriend’s neck, hair flying as she danced like she was possessed, while Minho just laughed at her antics. Jisung was losing his mind behind the DJ booth, hyping up the party like a man on a mission.

And Bangchan? He didn’t move. He just watched.

Watched as you danced. Watched as Mingyu’s hands found your waist. Watched as you threw your head back, laughing, moving with the beat like you had nothing to prove.

And under the pulsing red lights, with silver glitter catching on your cheekbones, you didn’t just look good. You looked untouchable.

And he looked like a man about to start a war.

You spun around, arms draped over Mingyu’s shoulders as his hands trailed down to your waist, pulling you into the rhythm. To anyone watching, you two looked dangerously close—every move synced, every touch easy, like this was something more than just a party moment. But in the back of your mind, a small, annoying voice reminded you that this wasn’t about Mingyu at all.

Still, too late now.

The strobe lights flashed in bursts, making everything feel like a glitch in time—jumping, dancing, bodies moving like there was no tomorrow. You lost sight of Bangchan for a while, which was probably for the best. So, you let go. Had fun. Actually enjoyed yourself with your friends.

Until someone slammed into you, knocking the air right out of your lungs.

One second, Mingyu was right there. The next, he was gone, practically launched across the floor. “What the—” you barely got the words out before you saw the damage.

Changbin stood there, wide-eyed, drenched in a suspiciously pink drink, looking like he just survived a battlefield. And Mingyu? Equally soaked, equally stunned, like he was still processing what the hell just happened.

“Dude, shit—sorry!” Changbin shouted, voice barely cutting through the music.

You blinked, taking in the absolute mess before turning back to him. “Are you good?”

Changbin nodded rapidly, looking between you and Mingyu like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or start running. “Yeah, yeah, my bad!”

Then he turned back to Mingyu, hands up like a man pleading for his life.

Mingyu just let out a sigh, lifting the hem of his now ruined white T-shirt like he was mourning a fallen soldier. “Alright. I’ll be right back,” he said, shaking his head before disappearing into the crowd.

Meanwhile, Changbin grabbed your arm, his expression serious—well, as serious as someone drenched in a neon-pink drink could look. He gestured for you to follow, weaving through the bodies until you reached the foot of the stairs.

“What?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Can you grab me a shirt? I left one in Jisung’s backpack.”

You took a second to assess the situation. Changbin, slightly tipsy, covered in pink, blinking at you like a lost puppy. He looked ridiculous.

With a dramatic sigh, you caved. “Fine.”

“You’re the best,” he said, clasping his hands like he was praising the heavens. “It’s in the room on the right, upstairs.”

You turned, climbing the stairs while dodging couples making out on the steps like it was some kind of kissing marathon. Once you reached the hallway, you scanned the doors—long corridor, a few rooms—until you spotted one slightly open on the right.

Alright. In and out. Quick mission.

Stepping inside, you started searching for Jisung’s bag—first the floor, then the bed. Nothing.

And then—

Movement.

From the corner of your eye, a figure emerged from behind the bed, rising like a shadow from the dark.

Your breath caught. Bangchan. Standing there. Watching you.

A black cable twirled between his fingers, slow and deliberate, his gaze unreadable under the dim glow of the hallway lights.

“What?” you were the first to break the silence, arms crossing instinctively. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Bangchan gave you a flat look, holding up the black cable like it was evidence in court. “I should be asking you that. I came to get Han’s charger.” he raised an eyebrow, gaze sharp, like he wasn’t entirely convinced.

You opened your mouth, fully prepared to deliver something scathing—but before you could get a word out, the door swung open again.

“Sorry, kids! Not opening this door until you sort yourselves out!”

You barely had time to process Changbin’s smug, drunken grin before the door slammed shut.

For half a second, you froze.

Then you launched at the door, fists pounding like you could open it through sheer rage. “Changbin, open this fucking door right now!”

No answer. Just the distant thrum of music, too muffled for anyone outside to hear you scream bloody murder.

You yanked at the handle—definitely locked.

With a sharp inhale, you turned, glaring daggers at Bangchan, who was just… standing there. Watching. Amused.

“Are you just gonna stand there? Do something!”

His lips twitched, like he was this close to laughing. “Pretty sure this is your problem, not mine.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, so now you don’t wanna get involved?”

Bangchan sighed—slow, exaggerated—before strolling up to the door, resting a lazy hand on the knob, and giving it a completely useless jiggle. Then he turned back to you with a straight face.

“Yeah. It’s locked.”

You stared at him. Blinked. Then scoffed so hard you nearly choked.

“No shit, Sherlock. Are you serious?”

Bangchan couldn’t help it—he laughed. Because you were spiraling, and honestly? It was funny as hell.

“I’ll call him,” he said, still smirking.

You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly left your skull and made your way over to the double bed in the corner. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, collapsing onto the edge like this was some Shakespearean tragedy.

Then a thought clicked, and suddenly, everything made sense.

Your head snapped up. “Wait—” you shot to your feet, eyes narrowing. “He knows. You told him.”

Bangchan barely looked fazed. “He kinda figured it out on his own, if that makes you feel any better.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Bangchan was so into you, stealing glances constantly, and Changbin wasn’t stupid. The man could read a room like it was his job.

You dragged a hand down your face, exhaling sharply. “This is a nightmare.”

Bangchan tilted his head, amused. “Jesus, is it really that bad being stuck in here with me? Last time, you weren’t exactly complaining.”

The second those words left his mouth, you hit him with a look so deadly he immediately shut up.

“Just get Changbin to open the damn door, Bangchan,” you said flatly, plopping back down onto the bed, dead center, legs crossed like you were settling in for a long, miserable wait.

You pulled out your phone, thumbs flying across the screen as you sent a message to Hyunjin—the only person who knew about the whole situation. You could have asked Sohee, Eunji, or even Mingyu, but that would just open a very annoying can of worms.

And you were not in the mood for questions.

This couldn’t be real. No way. The second you got out of here, Changbin was getting his ass handed to him. And Mingyu was probably already wondering where the hell you’d disappeared to. Just like Yeojin was probably searching for Bangchan.

Perfect.

“He’s not answering,” Bangchan announced, completely unfazed. “Which means he’s ignoring me on purpose. So, we wait.” he sat by the window like it was just another Tuesday, leaning back on his palms.

“This is your fault.”

That earned you a scoff. “How the hell is this my fault?”

You shot him a glare. “If you hadn’t spilled everything to him, none of this would be happening.”

Bangchan let out a dry laugh, tilting his head like you were so predictable. “Right. And if you hadn’t jumped to conclusions without actually listening to me—like you always do—none of this would be happening either.”

Oof. Direct hit. You hated when he had a point.

“I have nothing to hear from you,” you muttered, crossing your arms and staring at literally anything else in the room.

Silence.

Annoyingly, maddeningly, deafeningly loud silence.

Bangchan rested his arms on his knees, watching you like he had all the time in the world. And pretending he wasn’t there, yeah, that was a joke. His presence was like gravity—pulling, heavy, impossible to ignore.

Less than ten minutes passed before the anger started simmering down. Because that’s how it always went with him. Like a fire that burned too hot, too fast.

“You seriously thought she was my girlfriend?”

You turned, locking eyes with him. “What else was I supposed to think? She said it herself.”

Bangchan hummed, tapping his fingers against his knee. “She’s not. Yeojin’s an ex—from high school. Ancient history.” he exhaled sharply through his teeth. “She’s just… a little clueless.”

“A little?” you let out a sharp laugh. “She was wearing your clothes when I showed up at your dorm.” you rolled your eyes, but Bangchan only smiled. Because, yeah, that sounded a whole lot like jealousy.

Then something clicked. “Wait—what were you doing there that night?”

“Nothing.” you looked away, ignoring the sudden heat crawling up your neck.

His laugh was soft, almost teasing. But the way he was looking at you? Like you were the only thing worth seeing? That was dangerous.

“C’mon. Seriously.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes, because he was so annoyingly persistent. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Doesn’t it?” Bangchan tilted his head, lips curving in that cocky little smirk. “I doubt that.”

“Well, I don’t care,” you shot back, folding your arms in defiance.

Bangchan pushed himself off the floor, moving to sit on the edge of the bed—close, but not too close. Still, he was big. Broad. Built like a problem. And despite the space between you, he somehow took up all of it.

Worse? He smelled stupidly good.

“What do you want?” you asked, bracing yourself for the answer—because Bangchan was stupidly honest, and you weren’t sure you were ready for whatever was about to come out of his mouth.

But he didn’t say a word. Just kept looking at you, pupils blown wide, gaze slow as it dragged over your face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

Then, finally— “Why’d you come that night?”

You swallowed. “I went because… I wanted to talk. And… I wanted things to be okay between us.”

For a second, he just stared at you like you’d punched the air out of his lungs. Because you had gone after him. To fix things. To close the distance.

“You wanted to?” you barely nodded before he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Well, we’re two idiots, then.” his lips curled slightly, his whole energy shifting. “Because that’s all I want.”

Your eyes locked, and something about the way he was looking at you made your chest tighten. He had this insane ability to make you feel completely seen, like he could pick apart every thought in your head just by watching you.

“Why?”

Bangchan was never one to hold back, never afraid to be himself—especially when it came to being honest about what he wanted. And right now, he was this close to just laying it all out. Because the truth? He was ridiculously into you. More and more, every damn day.

“You’re stubborn, and I’m an idiot,” he muttered, lips pressing into a thin line before he let out a short laugh. The kind that made you laugh, too, before you even realized it. And honestly it pissed you off a little how easily he could do that—swing you from one extreme to another like it was nothing.

“Look,” he sighed. “I’m just gonna be straight with you, like I always am. I’m not playing games. I didn’t mean it when I said we were nothing.”

“But we are,” you mumbled, even though the words tasted like a lie. You weren’t anything. No labels, no relationship. Just a mess of late nights and tangled sheets—until things got way too complicated.

“I don’t want us to be nothing,” he said, shrugging, like he was just casually throwing his cards on the table. “Because ever since that first time, I haven’t wanted anyone else.”

Your breath caught, and suddenly, the bed felt too small, the room too warm. What the hell? You hadn’t expected this conversation to go there.

Bangchan? Not with anyone else? That was news. The guy was basically campus royalty when it came to hookups. Half the girls in your year had probably been in his dorm at some point.

And now he was sitting here, telling you this?

But now he was standing there, saying it out loud—no one else. Just you. And it sent your stomach into a tailspin.

“I shouldn’t have given you shit for it,” you muttered, nodding like that would somehow make the awkwardness go away. “I mean, since we’re not… you know.”

Bangchan lifted an eyebrow, clearly amused by how flustered you were.

“Oh, I know,” he said. “But you don’t get it. I don’t want anyone else.”

Your pulse spiked. Too fast. Too loud. What the hell was he trying to say?

“No, you’re just—” you let out a breathy, nervous laugh, stepping back like that would help. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bangchan didn’t let you go far. His hand caught yours, warm and steady, fingers wrapping around your wrist before he pulled you closer—right between his legs.

And then his hands were on your waist, fitting there like they belonged.

Your breath hitched.

His voice, suddenly lower, smoother, like silk wrapped in heat. “I know exactly what I want.”

Your eyes met his, and damn it, he was beautiful. That kind of beauty that wasn’t just about sharp jawlines and perfect features—it was something deeper, something that burned. The way his eyes locked onto you, glowing under the dim light. The way his expression was serious, but there was still softness lingering beneath it.

You knew what you wanted too. You just weren’t ready to admit it.

Your hands moved before your mind could catch up, tracing the curve of his brow, the sharp edge of his cheekbone—slow, like you were trying to memorize him by touch. Then, without thinking, you cupped his face, thumbs brushing over his skin.

Bangchan didn’t pull away. Didn’t even flinch. He just leaned into your touch, like this was normal, like you did this all the time. But you didn’t. Not like this.

Then he kissed the back of your hand, soft and slow, and damn it, you smiled.

“Say what you want,” he murmured.

“I…”

“I don’t care if I’m your dirty little secret,” he cut in, voice rough, low, burning at the edges. “I don’t care about any of it. As long as you’re mine, I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

Something shifted inside you—hot, sharp, irreversible. Like a match hitting gasoline.

Bangchan tilted his head, pushing a strand of hair from your face. “What are you so afraid of?” his lips curled into a half-smirk. “You hate me that much?”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. “I don’t hate you.” your fingers tightened against his jaw. “Not even close.”

Bangchan pulled you in, arms locking tight around your waist, pressing you so close you could feel every breath he took against your skin. A shiver shot down your spine, anticipation curling in your stomach. You were teetering on the edge, seconds away from giving in—giving him everything. And if he was willing to take whatever you had to offer… What was stopping you?

With one swift move, his hands traced up the back of your thighs, fingers pressing into the sensitive skin behind your knees, guiding you onto the bed and onto his lap. The air between you shifted, crackling, something unspoken but heavy settling in the space only you two could understand.

It was automatic—this need, this burn. Like gravity, like the sky being blue, like the way your chemistry was always one spark away from setting the whole place on fire.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, yanking back just enough to force his eyes on you. And God, he looked wrecked—vulnerable in a way that made your stomach flip, pupils blown wide like he’d already lost the battle.

That’s when you kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate—a clash of want, frustration, and every second of tension that had built between you. Like a wave crashing against the shore, wild and uncontrollable. You rocked against him, fingers tightening in his hair, barely biting back a moan when his hands gripped your ass, lifting you further into him.

Your skirt had already ridden up, but Bangchan wasn’t complaining.

He knew exactly what he was doing—kissing, nipping at your skin, hitting every spot that made you gasp. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. More contact, more of him.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging it up with shaky hands. Bangchan barely hesitated, lifting his arms, muscles flexing as he pulled the fabric over his head. The low, guttural sound that left his lips sent a shiver through you—deep, raw, almost primal. And God, he looked unreal.

“You want me to stop?” he murmured against your lips, voice thick with restraint.

You shook your head immediately, body betraying you with the way it trembled against him.

“I can stop,” he teased, but this time, the possibility made your stomach flip. Your eyes snapped to his, filled with something dangerously close to panic.

Stepping back, just for a second, you took him in. And no matter how many times you’d seen him like this, you never quite got used to it. All of him. Broad, sculpted shoulders, solid arms, every inch of him screaming strength. And all of that was yours.

Bangchan smirked, eyes narrowing with smug satisfaction. “You look like you want something.”

You huffed a laugh, shoving him back. “Shut up.”

But before you could move away, his hands gripped your waist, pulling you down with him. You landed against his chest with a startled yelp, his warmth pressing into you.

Then he kissed you—slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second, every breath, as if the night stretched endless before you, mapping every inch of your lips with his own. Your laughter faded, swallowed by him.

Pinned against him, you could feel the effect you had on him, the heat of him beneath dark denim. And if there was one thing you knew, it was how to push him over the edge.

So you kissed him harder, rolling your hips against his.

His hands flew to your ass, squeezing before delivering a sharp slap that had you moaning into his mouth. That was just how it was with you two—obscene, messy, utterly shameless. And nothing turned you on more.

Your fingers found the zipper of his jeans, finally breaking away from his lips to look down at him. Bangchan pushed up on his elbows, watching you through half-lidded eyes, his breath ragged as he fought to stay still. His fingers twitched, desperate to put an end to the torturous wait. He was so hard it was unbearable—just seeing you like this had him on the edge.

He didn’t hesitate to help, making quick work of what little fabric still separated you. And fuck, you were drenched. Just the sight of him like this—wrecked for you—had your whole body tightening in anticipation.

There were so many ways this could go, and you wanted them all. One night would never be enough.

Your hand wrapped around him, firm, deliberate. A shaky curse tumbled from his lips, his head tipping back as he melted into your touch. He was barely holding it together when you lifted your hips, and for a second, he thought you were going to sink down onto him. Instead, you slid against him, rolling your hips so he could feel everything—dragging over your entrance, teasing up to your clit before sliding back down.

“Holy shit,” Bangchan groaned, voice strangled.

His hands twitched, reaching for you, aching to do something. But before he could, you leaned in, pinning his wrists down against the mattress.

He was at your mercy now. Completely helpless. And he fucking loved it.

Meanwhile, your hips kept moving, sliding over him, teasing but never giving in. The sheer size of him, the way he dragged against your clit with every slick roll of your hips—it was maddening. You lost all sense of rhythm, chasing pleasure in short, frantic motions, needing more, always more.

Bangchan was wrecked beneath you. His breath came in ragged bursts, his chest rising and falling as he groaned through clenched teeth, letting you take what you wanted. And the sight of him like this completely undone because of you? It was enough to make your head spin.

Your wetness mixed with his pre-cum, making a mess between you, the heat of it dizzying. Another deep grunt tore from his throat, and fuck—his orgasm was creeping up way too fast. He wasn’t about to let that happen. Not yet.

Your grip on his wrists loosened, your body trembling above him, so damn close—

“Want me to fuck you?” the words were a rasp, low and filthy against your skin.

And God, hearing him say it like that, made you feel absolutely ruined.

You were right there, wavering on the edge, but then—Bangchan’s hands gripped your waist, flipping you with ease. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he pulled away, standing at the edge of the bed.

For a second, frustration flared hot in your chest—he’d just ripped away a mind-numbing orgasm—but the way he looked at you, eyes dark and full of promise, made it clear.

He wasn’t done. Not even close.

With impressive speed, Bangchan yanked your panties down, leaving you in nothing but that tiny skirt. You reached for your blouse, tearing it off without a second thought. Meanwhile, he fished a condom from his pocket, standing at the foot of the bed like he owned the place.

You bit your lip, taking in the sight of him—so big, so stupidly gorgeous.

Bangchan climbed onto the bed, his strong hands wrapping around your thighs, keeping them pressed together. His voice was low, commanding. "Spread your legs."

Your breath hitched, but you obeyed, parting them slowly. The skirt inched higher, higher, until it was bunched up around your waist.

He muttered something under his breath, gaze locked on how wet you were—for him. Almost dripping. You bit your lip, the weight of the moment thick in the air. "Please..."

Bangchan leaned in, kissing your stomach, then up to your chest. One arm braced against the bed, the other gripping himself as he brushed his cock against your cunt. The slow drag, the teasing, was cruel, and he knew it. He was watching you unravel—your body torn between frustration and aching need.

You were this close to grabbing him, to taking what you needed, but before you could, he caught your wrists in one hand, pinning them down.

"I'll let you..." his voice was a husky whisper, dark and full of promise. He kept that agonizing friction going, dragging against you, just enough to drive you insane. "But you have to tell me."

You were burning up, mind hazy, barely able to process his words. "Bangchan," you tried for something firm, but the second the tip of his cock rubbed against your clit—just the right mix of pleasure and frustration—a strangled moan slipped out instead.

"Tell me what you want, and it's yours," he murmured against your lips, smug as ever.

Your gaze met his, dark and needy. He picked up the pace, teasing you mercilessly—only to stop again. You let out a desperate whimper. This was torture.

"Just say it, love."

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, frustration bubbling over. "Your ego is too big."

Bangchan chuckled against your skin, stealing a quick kiss. "You know what else is big?"

You hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him in close. His breath caught, and for a second, he just looked at you—lips parted, eyes searching yours, ready to dive in.

"Guess you'll have to show me."

And Bangchan never turned down a challenge.

The moment he let you go, he was all action—rolling on the condom with practiced ease before yanking you flush against him. "Gonna fuck you so good you'll take it all back."

Then he slammed into you, deep, all at once, knocking the breath from your lungs. Stars burst behind your eyelids. Fuck, you’d never get used to the stretch. And neither would he, not with how tight you clenched around him, inch by inch.

Bangchan started slow, deliberate, watching every little reaction like he was committing it to memory.

"More," you gasped, nails dragging down his back.

And who was he to deny you?

A low, guttural curse slipped from his lips as he gripped the back of your leg, struggling to keep himself in check. But even he was failing. That dark, insatiable hunger inside him wanted to ruin you, break you apart piece by piece, and devour whatever was left.

"Yeah..." his hand found the back of your neck, and in one brutal motion, he buried himself to the hilt. Your eyes rolled back as a cry of pure pleasure ripped from your throat. "Fuck."

He did it again. And again. Testing you. Seeing just how much you could take. And then restraint snapped—his rhythm shifted from slow, deliberate thrusts to deep, relentless strokes that had you gasping, moaning, melting beneath him.

Your lungs fought for air, your body wrecked by the force of him. A tangled mess of curses and broken sounds spilled from your lips.

Bangchan leaned down, catching your mouth in a searing kiss, fucking you through every ragged breath. The filthy, desperate moans leaving his lips had you clinging to him, desperate to consume every last one.

"Bangchan—my God!" your fingers dug into his back like an anchor, but you were weightless, floating, dissolving into nothing.

You tried to pull him closer, but he straightened, still gripping your throat, keeping you right where he wanted.

"Say it." his thrusts were brutal, hitting so deep you thought you’d break apart. Faster. Harder. You cried out, a mess of pleasure and desperation, dizzy on the edge of something devastating."Tell me— you want me? Wanna cum on my cock?"

Your vision blurred, the sheer intensity forcing a tear to the corner of your eye. It was too much, but not enough, never enough.

"I want you," you choked out, voice ragged, shaking. "Fuck—" you barely finished the sentence before your body gave in, collapsing into pure, obliterating pleasure.

Bangchan caught your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it before murmuring against your mouth, “Good girl.”

Then his hand slipped between your bodies, finding your clit as he thrust into you, his fingers moving in tandem with his strokes. And that was it. The tipping point. Your back arched, but he pressed a firm hand to your stomach, pinning you down as pleasure overtook you. The last few thrusts sent you spiraling, your body clenching tight around him as you came hard, waves crashing over you.

Bangchan cursed under his breath, his grip tightening as his own release hit him like a freight train. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—" his whole body tensed, abs flexing as he emptied himself, barely managing to keep from collapsing on top of you.

Your chest rose and fell in sync with his, both of you wrecked, tangled, completely undone. He was so close, his forehead pressing against yours, damp hair sticking to his skin. And just like that, you kissed him—slow, deep, something unspoken passing between you. A shift.

Something had changed, and you both felt it.

"We need to stop doing this," you muttered against his lips.

Bangchan pulled back slightly, his brows knitting together. "What...?"

"Having sex in strangers’ rooms," you teased, the corner of your mouth quirking up. "Bad habit."

Relief flickered across his face before it was replaced by something far more dangerous. "Then let’s go to mine," he said smoothly, his voice thick with intent. "I’m not done with you."

You just laughed, shaking your head as you reached for your clothes. No argument, no teasing comeback—just that breathless, satisfied chuckle that told him you were just as wrecked as he was. And God, he admired you. The way you moved, the way you carried herself, as if what just happened was the most natural thing in the world. Like you hadn’t just left him completely undone.

He leaned back against the bed, watching as you slipped your blouse on, covering up inch by inch what he had just memorized with his hands, his lips, his tongue. A damn shame.

“I could go like this all night,” he murmured, voice thick with lust. His eyes dragged over you, slow and deliberate. “I’d never get tired of you.”

You paused for half a second, then, with a smirk, you glanced at him over your shoulder.

“Sweet talk won’t get you another round.”

He grinned, unbothered. “Who said I was asking?”

"Alright, lover boy," you sighed, straightening your skirt. "Call Changbin so we can get out of here before we end up adding ‘breaking and entering’ to our list of bad decisions."

But Bangchan just huffed out a laugh, reaching into his back pocket. You frowned, watching as he pulled out something small, something metallic—

And then he dangled a tiny key in front of your face.

Your breath caught. "You absolute—"

"Had the key the whole time?" he finished for you, grinning like the unapologetic menace he was.

You just stared at him, utterly gagged. "Are you telling me we could’ve left at any time—and you let me believe we were locked in here?!"

Bangchan had the audacity to laugh, and before you could get a single word of protest out, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you against him and crashing his lips onto yours. You let him. You melted into it, kissed him back like you weren’t even a little mad.

When he finally pulled away, his breath ghosted over your lips as he murmured, "I’m sorry, baby." But he was still laughing. Not sorry at all.

"No, you’re not," you shot back, trying—and failing—to sound pissed.

"You’re right," he admitted without shame, pressing another kiss to your mouth, slower this time, smug and indulgent. "But, in my defense… I knew you wanted me just as bad as I wanted you."

You narrowed your eyes, heat licking at your spine because—damn it—he wasn’t wrong.

Cocky bastard.

Still, you snatched the key from his fingers and shoved him toward the door. "Move before I leave your ass locked in here and tell everyone you cried for help."

Bangchan just smirked, twisting the doorknob with infuriating ease. "Joke’s on you—I’d make it sound sexy."

Bangchan slipped out first, leaving you alone in the dimly lit bedroom, the air still thick with everything that just happened. You took a breath, running a hand through your hair and letting out a low, incredulous laugh. Insane. That was the only word for it. Completely, absolutely, batshit insane.

You took your time freshening up before heading downstairs, blending back into the party like nothing happened—like your whole world hadn’t just been flipped on its head by a cocky bastard with unfairly good hands.

You found the drinks and poured yourself a beer, the cold liquid grounding you, when Hyunjin appeared at your side, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Mingyu was looking for you,” he said, tilting his head. “For a while. Then he gave up and left.”

You took a slow sip of your beer, carefully masking any reaction. “Huh. Tragic.”

Hyunjin squinted. “Okay, where the hell have you been?”

You shot him an easy smirk. “In the bathroom, Hyunjin. I have bodily functions like every other human being.”

His eyes narrowed further. “For that long?”

“Maybe I got lost,” you said with a shrug, taking another sip. “Or maybe I was reevaluating all my life choices.”

Hyunjin was still staring at you, unconvinced. “You were with someone.”

You huffed. “Stop being nosy and dance with me.”

Before he could pry any further, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto the dance floor. The bass thumped through your veins as you moved to the beat, thankful for the temporary distraction. But Hyunjin was sharp—too sharp. His gaze flickered to something over your shoulder, and then his lips parted in realization.

You didn’t have to turn around to know. You felt it.

Bangchan was across the room, talking to Changbin and Seungmin like he hadn’t just been inside you not too long ago. But the way he looked at you—steady, knowing, like he was still feeling every second of what just happened—Hyunjin caught it immediately.

“No way.” he gaped at you. “You didn’t.”

You met his stare, unfazed. “I did.”

Hyunjin groaned, rubbing his face like this was his personal crisis. “You two are so fucking messy.”

You just laughed, finishing the rest of your beer. “And yet, I’m having a great time.”

A while later, when you finally decided you’d had enough social interaction for one night, you nudged Hyunjin. “I’m heading out.”

He nodded. “Cool, I’ll get you an Uber. I’ll go with Lix.”

Before you could even reach for your phone, a familiar voice interrupted. “No need.”

Bangchan. Standing way too close, hands in his pockets, looking like the devil who got exactly what he wanted.

“I’m driving back,” he said smoothly. “I’ll take you.”

Your mouth opened, but Hyunjin’s eyebrow was already rising, looking between the two of you like he had front-row seats to a drama he needed to see play out.

“I can go alone,” you said, keeping your voice level.

Bangchan smirked. “I insist.”

You sighed, side-eyeing Hyunjin. His expression was nothing short of feral with interest.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But no funny business.”

Bangchan only chuckled, walking off first. You lingered behind for a few beats before following, slipping out quietly, only Hyunjin watching your exit with a smug, entertained look.

He was never letting you live this down.

The night air was sharp against your flushed skin, a cruel contrast to the heat still licking at your nerves. Bangchan stood by his car—a sleek, black beauty that suited him too well. Under the dim glow of the streetlights, he looked almost unreal, all sharp lines and confidence as he pulled the passenger door open, his gaze never leaving yours.

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to get in. But because you knew—the second you did, there’d be no turning back from whatever the hell this was becoming.

Bangchan saw right through you. He always did.

His voice dipped low, rough with amusement. “Get in, baby. Or I’ll put you in myself.”

Your stomach flipped. You rolled your eyes, masking the way his words sent a pulse of heat straight through you. “Such a gentleman,” you muttered, but your lips twitched, betraying you.

Still, you slid into the seat, the cool leather kissing your bare thighs. He followed, reaching over—closer, closer—until his fingers brushed the seatbelt, tugging it across you.

And suddenly, the air inside the car felt thick. Heavy.

His breath ghosted over your collarbone, close enough that his lips could’ve skimmed your skin if you so much as moved. You could feel the warmth of him, the way his fingers lingered just a second too long before clicking the buckle into place.

Your throat went dry.

You cleared it quickly, forcing out something—anything—to cut through the tension threatening to swallow you whole. “I’m exhausted.”

He pulled back just enough to smirk. “Sure you are.”

The car hummed to life, but your brain? It was shot to hell.

Because now you had to sit there and endure the sight of him driving one-handed, muscles flexing, veins peeking through his skin like temptation itself. It was obscene, the way he handled the car—like he did everything else. With control. With ease.

You swallowed, shifting in your seat, pressing your legs together.

Bangchan noticed. Of course, he did.

His smirk deepened, eyes flicking toward you before drifting back to the road. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied, voice far too even to be convincing.

He made a sound, low in his throat, clearly unconvinced. Then, like he lived to ruin you, his hand dropped to your thigh—warm, steady, fingers pressing just enough to make you feel it.

Your breath hitched. “Bangchan.”

He leaned in slightly, just enough to let you catch the edge of his scent—clean, intoxicating, laced with something that made your pulse stutter. His thumb stroked slow, lazy circles against your skin.

“You’re always ready for me, aren’t you?” his voice was nothing but a taunt, silk-wrapped sin.

A shiver licked down your spine. The worst part? He was right. And he fucking knew it.

His fingers crept higher, brushing against the inside of your thigh, deliberate and slow. “I could fuck you right here,” he murmured, his breath feather-light against your ear. “No one would see. No one would know.”

Your body responded before your brain did, every nerve alight, screaming at you to let this happen.

But you had to be smart. For once.

With every ounce of restraint you had left, you grabbed his wrist, halting his movements before they ruined you completely. “I have to go.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, eyes dark, unreadable. Then, his lips curled—not in disappointment, but something far more dangerous.

“Fine.”

But before you could breathe, before you could move, he reached for you, tilting your chin up with maddening ease. His gaze locked onto yours, deep and knowing, before his tongue swept over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate, claiming.

Then he kissed you. Deep. Slow. Devastating.

By the time he pulled away, you were wrecked. Breathless.

“Goodnight, baby,” he murmured, unlocking the door like he hadn’t just unraveled you in a single move.

You barely remembered getting out, legs weaker than they had any right to be. As you walked back to your dorm, dazed and burning, one thought rattled through your skull like a warning you’d never heed:

He’s gonna be the death of me.

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quarterlifekitty · 4 months ago

Text

Promethean

fuckboy!Soap x Shy!Reader x Ghost (college!au) p.2 here’s part 1

Uhh warning soap isn’t in this chapter and reader isn’t acting very shy rn lol

Simon managed to drag you, shocked and still on shaky legs, into his surprisingly clean car and across town to a little cafe. The guy with eye bags behind the counter starts making his order as soon as he comes in the door— must be a regular.

At the counter he points to a couple of items in the display case, before prompting you— you stutter out your go-to, and Simon whips out a beat-up debit card before you can think to pull out your wallet.

The largest size of earl grey almost looks normal in his large hand, a plate of pastries in his other mitt. You grab your own drink and follow where he tilts his head in gesture.

When you sit, he pushes the plate towards you. Like he’s dropping a fresh kill at your doorstep—a courting gift. Eat. Be provided for, sensitive doe. You pick up a danish, if only to ease the clench of his fist on the table. He pulls the black surgical mask down to sip his tea in a way that’s almost hilariously delicate given his permanent scowl.

You couldn’t have sat in silence for more than 10 minutes. But it feels like a lot longer.

“Simon. What are we doing here?” You probe quietly. Saying his name when you’ve never actually been introduced to each other feels wrong. Like you’ve stolen a piece of him that he hasn’t given freely.

“He never takes you out,” he grunts. As if that explains anything.

“It’s not… what we have isn’t like that.”

——

Simon chews on your overly diplomatic response for a minute. That’s what it must be, chewing— why else would he grind his teeth together when his tongue is still wet with his favorite soothing beverage?

You’re kind. Kinder than the mutt deserves.

“But you want it to be.” He says it with an almost biblical level of finality. Your pastry making the plate clink against the table as you drop it back down.

“What would you know about what I want?”

“You’re an easy read. S’how y’got yourself in this situation. Soap’s not exactly a rocket scientist when it comes to chattin’ up birds, you’re jus’ an open book.”

Simon shamelessly stares at your lips as they quirk in anger— so unused to vitriol. It’s gorgeous.

“So he’s using me. I know. Is that what this was about? Taking me on a pity date to let me down gently? Or did you just wanna see if you could have a go as well?”

Seeing you like this. It’s something else. He’s seen you mope around so many times, silently begging for crumbs that will never be tossed your way. It’s even harder to pull his gaze from you, now that you’re hissing. He wants to dig his teeth into your heart shoulder and rip out the bruise Johnny left you with.

Soap is his best friend.

“He’s a dickhead. You don’t need him. You’ll find something better.”

Simon has never been what he would call “something better”. Not in any sense. But this might be the first time he’s wanted to be.

“I won’t,” you say with the lower half of your face hidden by the sipping of your drink. As if it’s quenched your fire, and all that leaves you is vapor. “I’m not… the type.”

He gets it. Really, he does. He’s not the type either— or so he’s thought. You’re making him wonder if he’s imagined that about himself— the same way you’ve clearly imagined it about yourself.

“What’s the rest of your day look like?”

“…Nothing set in stone.” The not that it’s any of your fucking business goes unspoken, but is plain to see in the air between you.

“Lemme take you around. On a date. Be mine for today. If y’hate it, I’ll drop you back at yours and the next time you come round, I’ll mind my business and keep the door closed.” Well, that’s the most you’ve ever heard him say in one go. And it begs a question.

“What happens if I like it? You’ll fuck me in a different room of the same frat house?” Your unimpressed look makes him feel ravenous. She-wolf is threatening to turn her eyes from the display. Rejection. Not an option. “Or maybe you’ll ask me to go steady,” you huff under your breath like it’s a bad joke.

“If y’like it, then you’ll stay mine, and y’won’t fuckin’ want for anything. You’re supposed to be worshipped, not begging for scraps at a mutt’s door.”

He really didn’t mean to say it like that. He meant to bite his tongue. He’s trying not to think of how hot it would be if his intensity scared you into pissing yourself. He’s trying not to let himself show through the lines. It’s not working. Any of it.

The venomous bile that spills from behind his teeth reminds him that his eloquence is just one of many reasons why he’s single. Why he should be muzzled instead of kept. He doesn’t know why he’s taking it upon himself to do this. Selfishness, maybe. There’s plenty of better men he could’ve put up to the task, easy. The man who wants to feel blood on the back of his throat makes a terrible savior.

He feels like he can see your pupils dilate. You pick up your danish again and take a bite. You hold it out for him to try. It’s a test. You don’t think someone with eyes like his can handle doing cutesy, saccharine things. Like what couples do. That must be it.

He tries not to think of his teeth going past the flakey flesh of the pastry and sinking into your fingers. When his tongue meets the butter between the layers, he tries not to think of the salt sweet flavor of your sweat and tears. A seed from the blackberry jam gets thoughtlessly crushed between his molars— he hopes the bitterness will suddenly wake him up and he won’t be a beast crying for love at the heart of the world anymore.

It doesn’t.

#uhhhhhhhhh something happened to me at the end there sorry #I went a little crazy style #writing #cod fanfic #cod #college au #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #Promethean

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whore-ibly-hot · 2 years ago

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Yan!Husbands Boss x Married! Reader

"Just Another Day at The Office."

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Dub-con, misogyny, name calling, nude photos, coercion, dubcon touching, fem genitalia for reader, mentions of divorce, general perversion, praise, clit play, cheating, readers husband is a scumbag.

(AN: Requested by an Anon early today, and it made me feral.)

Tick... tick... tick... the sound of an office clock rings in your ears, the only sound louder is your heart, pounding in your ribcage. The clock was awfully loud, though you had never noticed it before, when you were coming to bring your husband a warm, home-cooked meal. Maybe then you didn't notice it because you weren't fearing for your future.

Morgan & Cole, the investment firm your husband had been working for for years had been doing better than ever, and in turn, so had your husband. Promotions, expensive raises, and more had been sent his way. The house was even being repainted. All that begs the question, how had you found yourself in this situation.

It was a few nights ago when your husband informed you of the deal he had made with his boss. Morgan, the co-owner of the company, had his sights set on you, apparently. At a holiday party, he approached your husband with an offer, an offer to get a night with you in exchange for another fat raise. You had always known your husband hadn't been the most loving, but you had never imagined his greed could get to this. The worst part was how casual the deal he described was. Approaching a man at an office party and asking to sleep with his life like you were discussing sports frightened you. You had only met Morgan once or twice, and while he seemed charming, him doing something like this made you very much doubt he was in actuality.

You are snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of a door opening. Morgan steps out of his office, fidgeting with his smart-watch when he looks up and sees your meek form in the office lobby. His brow furrows.

"Oh, Mrs. Peters, I hadn't expected you to met me here. I had intended to come pick you up. How long have you been here?" He asks. You gulp. "Not long, just ten or so minutes." You say, trying to hold eye contact. He sighs and shakes his head. "Well, I wish you would have knocked on my office door, I feel awful having left you out here alone. Come, we can head back into my office and chat." His voice is so soothing, and in any other situation it would have been nice. You enter his office, and he closes the door behind him, before sitting at his desk. You take the chair in front of it.

"So, I assume your husband-" His teeth grind as he says this. "Is assume he has gone over what this is about." You nod. "He did... and... and I don't know if I can do this. I don't know you at all, and I'm a married woman." You whimper. Tears begin to slip down your cheeks, and Morgan sighs heavily. He comes around to lean back against the front of the desk, one hand supporting him while the other touches your cheek.

"I know this must be scary, I understand that. But I'm gonna solve both of those problems right now." He kneels down so your eyes meet his. "First, you worry you don't know me. Let me fix that. My name is Morgan Brant, I am thirty-two, and I live in a loft down on 37th. I like charcuterie and making my own organic lattes. I work out everyday, and enjoy walking through the city. I have both of my parents, Ruth and John, and they live in the city as well. Anything else you'd like to know?" You're too stunned and still panicked to respond, so you just shake your head. "Okay, okay. Good." He murmurs. A hand strokes your hair softly, as if trying to soothe a wild animal. To your shock, for a man who basically paid for a co-workers wife to prostitute herself, he does seem genuinely upset at your fear. His eyes are filled with a sorrow, and he chews his bottom lip nervously. He looks down for a moment.

"Mrs. Peters, your second concern, about being a married woman, is very respectable. I appreciate that you respect the sanctity of marriage so much. I think your loyalty and love for your husband is beautiful." He pauses, and gently grips your chin so you look him in the eyes. "But... I worry that love and loyalty may not be returned. Mrs. Peters, I need you to promise me you will listen to what I am about to tell you." You gulp, his suddenly serious, yet still soft, tone worries you.

He stands, walking to the back of his desk and opening a drawer, grabbing a manila envelope before sitting down at his chair again. He pushes the envelope towards you, folding his hand together and sitting up. He looks as those this odd exchange is yet another business deal, as he sits like a man prepared to do whatever it takes to seal a deal. A real businessman. Your hand trembles as it opens the envelope. Your heart stops.

Inside, your husband can be seen in several photos, from many different angles. Some looked ripped from security footage, others appear to be taken at a distance. However, they all contain the same subject. Your husband, locking lips with various women, every photo a different one. Your hand covers your mouth as you let out a choked sob. "N-no... I mean, he was never warm to me, b-but..." Everything comes crashing down at once. All those nights you waited up for him when he was 'working late', all those warm meals you brought him at work, only to be brushed off so he could talk to his secretary. It all made sense.

"I can't believe this..." You squeak. Morgan shakes his head. "You can believe it, I know you can. He's never loved you, I've seen how he treats you. Rejecting your meals, ignoring you at office parties and work functions. My dear, he is actively sitting at home and preparing to count the bonus he received for pimping you out to me." Morgan exclaims, his shoulders tightening. You put your head in your hands. "I'm... what am I going to do?! I'll divorce him, but I'll have nothing. I, oh god." You cry. Morgan once again moves to try and comfort you. His broad arms wrap around your shoulders.

"I know, I know this is scary. You've been through a lot tonight, your entire marriage even. But it's going to be okay." He cups your face. "I've been watching the two of you, you mostly." He hands you something. An empty tupperware container. "This is from his lunch yesterday. Every meal he rejected from you, I gladly took. I hadn't had the chance to eat something made so lovingly in a long time. They don't serve home-cooked meals like this at business conferences." He chuckles. "I saw how you would cling to him at those same parties he was ignoring you at, and wishing, praying you would cling to me like that." You look up, his confession is shocking. "Your husband... he is a greedy man, but he has pride. I knew I wouldn't even get a moment along with you unless there was something in it for him." He shakes his head. "Darling, I was just as disgusted as you were that he'd agree to that. As excited as I was, as I am for this moment with you, I was thanking whoever is out there that no other person at this office had tried something similar. I'm not some deviant, or criminal. I've had my fair share of sexual encounters, with prostitutes and escorts, but... I never felt anything. I need to feel something. I do with you." He says.

You shake your head. "You don't know me." You say. He shrugs. "You don't need to someone to love them, not at first. I hate to say this, but you didn't really know your husband, did you?" You sob again, and his sticks his hands out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry darling, that was out of line. I just needed to prove a point. What I'm saying is, I don't just want one night of pleasure with you. I want you to be mine. If you left him, you wouldn't be lost or desolate, you would have me. I could give your everything he has and more. Money, a penthouse, and my love. Real love. You deserve someone who wants to care for you the way you cared for that man-child. I can do that." You sniffle. "It's all so soon, and I don't... I'm scared." You say again. "I know. I hadn't wanted to do this here. I had wanted to show you the pictures and confess early on, I had plans to pick you up and take you somewhere nice to eat. I know the last thing you want right now is a fresh new relationship, I understand. But just maybe, the idea of revenge tempts you?" He suggests. You look up, and bite your lip. "What are you suggesting?" You ask.

"He thinks he's better than you, and that you could never leave him, because you have no one else, nothing else. Why else do you think he assumes their will be no repercussions for a night like this? He's so confident that you would never leave him, never even think about another man, that he truly believes you will return to him after he's pimped you out." Morgan moves closer. "I won't lie, I'll enjoy this, but don't just do it for me. Do it for yourself. Give in, leave him for a man who will worship you, who can give you more. Get back at him, and be with me." You shake your head. "You... you paid him to pimp me out to you like this though?" You exclaim. He nods "I had to show you how little he cared for you, same with the investigators I hired to get those photos." He nods in the direction of the envelope, now dabbled with your tears. "Besides, I've already signed his termination papers, I don't hire men like that here. He isn't getting shit for doing this to you." He assures.

In a moment of weakness, you break. The betrayal of the evening, the hurt and the fear, the anger, it's all too much. You sink to your knees, and nod. "Alright, let's do it. Just... be gentle, go slow." He nods. "Oh, my sweet. I'll do whatever you ask." He captures your lips, pressing your back against the front of his desk as he kneels beside you. His lips are soft, and taste of bourbon and mint. He smells like cologne, but a good kind, something smokey. Not like the tacky expensive stink of your husband, now ex-husbands favorite cologne. His tongue prods at your lips, and shyly you part them, allowing his tongue to slip in and suck against yours. He groans, and you both pull away breathlessly. While you take a breath, he immediately latches onto your neck, placing quick, feverish kisses along your collarbone. You gasp at the feeling, shrinking in on yourself. He grins.

"Does it really feel that good, that's quite a reaction." He chuckles. You blush and look to the side. "It's- It's been a while." He frowns and tilts his head. "How long is awhile, darling?" He whispers. "A few months, maybe eight or so." He shakes his head. "My poor girl, doing all that for him and he still wouldn't please you." He grips your waist, his lips on the shell of your ear. "To be fair though, even if he did, he couldn't make you finish. He would please himself, not you. But I won't, baby. Tonight, is all about you." You can feel a thick hardon pressing against your knee.

"Tell you what, darling. Let me make you feel good, real quick. Something nice and easy for my sensitive girl. Then, I'l take you out. I'm not just going to have sex with you without wineing and dineing you. Then, I'll take you back to my place, I-I'll send for your stuff tomorrow, and if you want, we can go for round two." He coos, looking up at you with admiration and hope. "Won't my husband try to resist my stuff being taken?" You ask. He shakes his head. "He's not your husband. If he calls, I'll hang up. He sold you out, and if he gets pissy, I've go the best lawyers in the country at my disposal. I'm not letting you spend one more night under a roof with that man. You aren't Mrs. Peters anymore, you're Mrs. Brant. Now... let Mr. Brant make you feel good." Hands cradle your thighs, slipping the skirt of your sensible slip dress up over your knees. A hand paws at your panties, cupping your cunt as he sighs. "So warm, poor little thing hasn't been touched in months. I've only kissed your neck a little, and your soaked. Is it because I said I love you? Does your little cunt respond well to just being admired and appreciated? Oh, my darling." He slips your panties aside just a little, not wanting to ruin your outfit for dinner later. Fingers part your lips as a long digit strokes up, from your entrance to your clit. A finger prods the entrance, and you gulp at the throbbing heat you feel.

"Gentle, slow please." You murmur. He nods, placing a gentle kiss on your neck before slipping in his digit. His long, calloused fingers rub your neglected walls in all the right ways. "A-ah, Morgan..." You pant. "Good?" He asks. You nod, breathless already. He thrusts it in and out gently, before asking to add another digit. When you nod, he adds another, while his free hand circles your clit with his middle finger. Perhaps its from typing everyday, day in and day out, but he is skilled. Even when your husband has slept with you, you had never felt like this. A coil forms in your stomach as you pant and whimper.

"M-morgan." You moan. "Please, I need to-" You're cut off by him sharply curling his fingers, as they hit a spongy spot deep inside you. "Oh, god. Yes." You moan again. "Cum for me, darling, please. I want to hear you." Morgan's tone is suddenly more desperate ethan you had heard it all night. He's needy, begging to know that he is pleasing you in the way he so desires. "Say my name, would you? I just want to please you, I need to know it feels good." He begs. "Morgan, I'm gonna cum, shit-" Your walls begin to pulse, juices coating his fingers. As you moan, finishing your high, he kisses you feverishly, desperate for closeness.

When you pull away, panting as you come down from your orgasm, he licks your juices off his hands with a squelching noise, putting your panties back into place. He helps you to your feet, and hands your your purse. "Ready for dinner?" He asks. Tired and very hungry, you nod. "Just one more thing, and you don't have to do anything, I've dealt with this myself plenty but-" He looks down, the tent in his pants is still very prominent.

"May I handle that before we go out?"

#yandere #yandere oc #tw.yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere content #tw.dark content #x reader #yandere boy #tw.cheating #tw.dubcon #tw.angst #yandere boss #yandere ceo #oc Morgan #fem reader

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sanipoyo · 8 months ago

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WAS IT CASUAL WHEN… PART TWO

note - this was heavily requested! it’s a continued version of this piece if you haven’t read it, i would before reading this! enjoy my loves :3.

you and sero had been really hitting it off and TODOROKI did not like this at all. although he was supposedly in a relationship now, you still have a very valuable place in his heart. he doesn’t know why he got into a relationship unprovoked without talking to you, knowing he’d been stringing you along for awhile. you and sero had started talking a bit right after todoroki practically ditched you for someone he’d only known for a week, but you were still hurt about it so you were distant towards sero. it’s been about 2 months since then and you’re over it now. you told sero about how things with todoroki ended and he reassured you in every way possible, you were lucky to have him because he was so understanding about everything. “i wouldn’t do that to you, i promise”, he said holding his pinky out waiting for you to intertwine your pinky with his. you hooked your pinky finger to his and smiled. shoto definitely regrets what he did, as he watches you be loved the way you deserved to be from afar.

it had been about a month since you stopped talking to KAMINARI. today, you were in class and got assigned a group project. you and ojiro got partnered together for it and kaminari didn’t think anything of it. but as y’all began to work, he heard how much you laughed and talked to ojiro. he felt his chest tighten, making it hard for him to focus on his project. “you alright?” his partner, tsuyu asked him and he profusely nodded. “yeah, yeah, i’m good! just brainstorming.” he rambled on, still overhearing you hit it off with ojiro. denki chewed on his bottom lip as he thought to himself; he knows he said he didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you but seeing you act the way you acted with him towards someone else made him feel sick to his stomach. even if you were just being friendly and having conversations, he used to be the only who made you laugh like that, the only person whose head you’d talk off. he wishes he could go back in time and change what he said to you but he wasn’t going to try and come back into your life after hurting you.

SHINSO sat in class, thinking about how he treated you at the mall, full of regret. he wanted to apologize to you, so he made it his mission to talk to you after class. when the bell rang, he hurriedly made his way out to the hallway, seeing you talking with kirishima. he furrowed his eyebrows when he saw you laugh and put your hand on his bicep. once kirishima made his way to class, leaving you alone, shinso approached you. “you into muscular guys now?” shinso hummed and you looked over, shocked to seem him next to you “what do you mean?” you asked him, his eyes trained on the ground. “i saw you grazing his muscles”, shinso said mocking your actions. “so? it’s not like we’re dating”, you quoted him. you were being petty, which he expected because it’s one of the things he loves about you. “i’m sorry”, hitoshi said lowly, now looking at you. “i don’t want to lose you, i was being stupid.” he added and you sighed. “i agree, you were being stupid. but i forgive you.. for now.” you said, rolling your eyes and he lit up. he pulled your favorite candy bar out of his pocket and placed in your hand, “thank you for putting up with me.”

jealous wasn’t even the word, BAKUGO was infuriated seeing midoriya seated next to you, sparking up conversations and seeing you giggle at him. of course, you and deku were just friends but something about him putting a smile on your face struck a nerve with bakugo. a couple minutes later, izuku excused himself to the bathroom and bakugo decided to take that opportunity to warn him not to talk you, he waited outside the bathroom for deku to finish, startling him when he came out. “kacchan! what’re you-“, midoriya began before getting cut off by bakugo. “don’t talk to them anymore, got it? you’ll distract them from getting better and improving.” bakugo stated and simply walked away, leaving midoriya in the hallway confused as to what bakugo was talking about. katsuki wanted to be with you, but he also wanted you to be the best you could be and he was worried he was stopping you from achieving that. so from here on out, he’d make sure no one got in your way.

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yerkyokuler · 14 days ago

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“Can You Step Out?”

Jude Bellingham x Reader

Warnings: postpartum, insecurity

Genre: angst and fluff, obviously

Word Count: over 3k , sorry 🥲

Thank you so much for the like on my first post, it means the world! Let me know if you want a part 2!

⸻

The living room was filled with the low hum of a lullaby toy, something soft and twinkly that looped endlessly as Percy kicked his chubby legs in the playpen. The sun was just beginning to set, casting a warm, golden light across the floorboards. You’d opened the windows earlier to let in the late afternoon air, and now a gentle breeze fluttered the sheer curtains. The house smelled faintly of baby lotion and Jude’s cologne—woody, musky, warm. Safe.

He was crouched down by the playpen in his white T-shirt—simple, fitted, sleeves rolled a little to show the muscle along his arms, black trousers hugging him just right. He was laughing at something Percy had done, something so small you probably would’ve missed it—a wrinkle of the nose, a gurgle of joy—but Jude looked at him like he’d just invented the moon.

You were in the bedroom, rifling through your side of the closet, trying to find something—anything—that still felt like you.

Tonight was supposed to be nice. Your first real evening out alone since Percy was born seven and a half months ago. You had a reservation. You had a sitter. You had Jude, so excited about it he’d played music while ironing his own shirt like it was prom night.

But now, standing in your bra and jeans, you were holding a dress you used to love and staring at it like it belonged to someone else.

Your body wasn’t the same. You knew that. You’d carried life, delivered him, fed him. But the way your hips had shifted, the way your skin stretched, the way your stomach now had a softness it never used to—it made the idea of this dress suddenly unbearable.

It felt like pretending. Like you were squeezing yourself into a version of yourself Jude hadn’t signed up for.

You heard him coming down the hall, his steps familiar. You quickly clutched the dress to your chest and called out, voice more brittle than you meant it to be.

“Can you—um… can you step out? I just wanna change.”

He stopped in the doorway. Confused at first. You saw the hesitation cross his face.

“Oh—yeah, of course,” he said, voice light. “You okay?”

You nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just… I’m good. Just gimme a sec.”

He lingered a moment. Then nodded, flashing you a quick smile. “Alright. Shout if you need help with the zip, yeah?”

You shut the door gently after he turned away and leaned back against it. That smile of his—it always made things worse when you were holding onto feelings you didn’t want to share. It was too kind. Too easy to believe in.

⸻

Down the hall, Jude walked back to the living room slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheek. You’d never asked him to step out like that before. Not even once. You’d always been pretty open, even when you weren’t feeling your best. Which meant…

Something was off.

He knelt back down beside Percy, who was now gnawing on a rubber giraffe like it owed him money. “What’s up with Mummy, hmm?” he asked softly.

Percy blinked up at him with those wide brown eyes—the same ones Jude saw in the mirror every morning—and let out a happy sigh that sounded like a whistle. Jude ruffled his dark curls, but he kept glancing toward the bedroom.

He thought about the dress you were holding. The one he loved seeing you in—the way it made your eyes look even brighter. But maybe you didn’t love it anymore. Maybe it didn’t feel the same.

He sat back, resting on his hands, and looked at the wall for a while. Listening. Thinking. Trying to remember the last time you talked about how you felt—about your body, about all the changes. He’d been so wrapped up in loving Percy, in making sure you had help and rest and food and warmth… but had he stopped looking? Had he stopped seeing you?

⸻

You gave up on the dress. It was too tight around the ribs anyway. Everything felt too snug. Like your body didn’t belong to you.

You pulled on a different outfit—looser, easier. Still nice, but safer. You paused in front of the mirror and adjusted the top, your fingertips brushing your soft stomach. Your chest. The stretch marks that traced your hips now like rivers.

The words came out in a whisper before you even meant them to.

“Doesn’t feel like me anymore.”

And when you turned to grab your earrings, there was a knock at the door.

Soft.

Gentle.

“Babe?”

You swallowed. “Yeah?”

“…Can I come in?”

You hesitated. Then sighed. “Yeah. Come in.”

The door opened slowly, and Jude stepped in, careful, like he knew he was walking into a place that felt delicate.

His eyes fell on you, and they softened instantly. But not out of pity. Not sadness. Just love.

“Hey,” he said.

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Hey.”

He didn’t rush to touch you, didn’t barrel in with solutions. Just stood there, watching you with a kind of patient quiet. “You don’t like it?”

You shrugged. “It’s fine. I just… I thought I did. I don’t know.”

His brow furrowed gently. “Is it the dress or… something else?”

You tried to brush it off. “It’s dumb. Doesn’t matter.”

His voice didn’t waver. “Matters to me.”

You looked away, your throat tightening. “It’s just… I don’t feel like myself. Not really. And I don’t know what you see when you look at me, but it’s not what I see anymore. And I didn’t want you to see me standing there like that—looking weird and stretched and just… not me.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

Jude’s eyes didn’t leave you once. He took a step forward, then another, until he was standing right in front of you.

“Can I say something?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, blinking quickly.

He touched your arm gently. “You say you’re not you… but all I see when I look at you is exactly who you are. The woman I love. The mother of my son. The person who carried him and loved him before I even knew what he’d look like.”

He paused, reaching for your hand. “You look at yourself and see stretch marks and softness and changes. I look at you and see the person who gave me the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You made him. You made Percy. Every bit of you that changed… it changed because of love. Because of life. And that’s not something I’ll ever want to unsee.”

Your eyes burned. “You say that, but—”

“I say that because I mean it,” he interrupted gently. “And I see you. Still. Always.”

You sniffled, laughing once, watery. “You’re making it really hard to be mad at my own body right now.”

He grinned. “Good. Your body deserves better than your anger.”

You leaned into him then, and his arms wrapped around you instantly. Strong. Familiar. Warm.

He kissed your temple. “You smell like my shampoo.”

“I used it ‘cause I ran out of mine.”

He pulled back to look at you, eyes playful. “You sure you didn’t use it just so I’d spend the whole evening trying not to climb over the dinner table?”

You laughed, smacking his chest lightly. “Jude.”

“What?” he said, feigning innocence. “You’re my wife. I can’t be a little obsessed?”

He leaned in, nosing at your jaw. “You have to know you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Like this. Right now. Exactly as you are.”

You melted under his words, forehead resting against his. “Thank you. I needed that more than I knew.”

“You’re allowed to not love everything right away,” he murmured. “But just know—I love it. I love you. And I want you to feel like you again. Whatever that looks like. Even if it means trying on every outfit in the closet until we’re late.”

You smiled, and this time it reached your eyes. “You’re not even mad?”

He raised a brow. “You kidding? You could wear your old dressing gown from uni and I’d still be staring.”

You laughed, cheeks warm. “Now that’s a lie.”

He stepped back, eyes running down your figure with a smirk. “Nope. But this?” he added, pointing to your current outfit. “This is doing things to me.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the way he looked at you—like you were something holy—it stayed with you. From the playpen, Percy let out a squeal. You both turned, and Jude’s face lit up again.

“I think he’s cheering for you,” Jude said, grabbing your hand and pulling you gently toward the door. “Or maybe for himself.

He did get your good looks, after all.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder as you walked.

“He has your eyes,” you whispered. “And your smile.”

Jude laughed. “Good. He’ll need ‘em. Especially with the way I plan on embarrassing him in front of his future dates.” You both paused at the doorway, watching Percy roll over with determination.

Jude’s arm slipped around your waist.

“You ready to go?” he asked.

You looked up at him, then down at your son, then back at yourself in the hallway mirror.

Maybe you weren’t exactly who you used to be. Maybe that was okay.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I think I am.”

And as Jude leaned down to kiss you again—slow, certain, grateful—you finally let yourself believe him.

#footballer imagines #football imagines #football scenarios #jude bellingham #Jude Bellingham x reader #Jude Bellingham imagines #Jude Bellingham scenarios

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benedictscanvas · 1 year ago

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pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes.

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso x reader

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cherryheairt · 8 months ago

Text

Dragon Dreamer pt. III

tags: @beebeechaos

Daenys avoiding her problems per usual

all feedback appreciated <3, I'm unsure how I want to write this longterm, bc the two will have to separate after the wall scene and idk if people would want chapters with just Daenys and no cregan lol

also appearently cregan's actor tom taylor has heterochromia and i think green/blue eyes but for the life of my i cannot find a clear pic of it </3

Daenys woke from her distant dreams only after the sun had risen. While still snowing and freezing outside, Morningstar had done well to warm the pair under her protective wing.

Cregan sat vigil all throughout the night, no complaints coming from the young lord as he did. Protecting the princess was simply a part of his many duties, he mused to himself sometime in the night while she whispered.

She blinked a few times, eyes heavy and body nearly numb. Though warm, she was still only clothed in house slippers and her night dress. A weight around her caught her attention, knowing that Morningstar couldn't wrap herself around Daenys like that.

"You awake, Princess?" A soft voice asked beside her.

Tilting her head up and squinting, "Cregan?" She whispered, voice horse from speaking all night.

"Good morrow, my lady," was all he said, that secret smile of his plastered on his face. She didn't know how to feel. A million things rushed to her mind; shame, humilation, frustration-

He interrupted her thoughts, shuffling to a crouch from his sitting position. Cregan offered her a hand, which she took without thinking. Leading them both out from under Morningstar, Cregan bowed his head respectfully to the she-dragon.

"She allowed you to come near us?" Daenys asked, in awe.

"Aye, I don't know why, exactly. I'm grateful for it, so I will not question a blessing." He told Daenys, reaching down to grab his sword that had been sitting on the snowbank for hours and shouldering it.

"Shall we break our fast, or would you like to sleep?" He turned to her, attentive grey eyes finding her violet ones.

Biting her cheek, she waited for the other shoe to drop. When would he demand answers from their night? Banish her from his house forever and ridding himself of the Velaryon girl.

"You should sleep, Lord Stark. I have kept you from it all night." She decided, looking at the tired expression pulling at his handsome face.

"Sleep often evades me with my duties, this is only another one. I would never sleep again if my Princess asked it of me." He told her, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "The day is new. Will you break fast with me?"

Daenys followed the lord into the dining hall. It was more active than the previous night, bustling with the activity of the Keep's servants. It only took a minute of sitting before their breakfast was in front of them, some light bread and oatmeal. Daenys greedily drank the cold water provided for her, the relief for her throat that had been burning the whole way to the Keep.

Cregan watched the display for a moment, smiling to himself before politely focusing on his food, not watching her pick at her breakfast like the previous night. "Do you want anything else? If you don't like the food, just tell me. No one will take offense, as long as you're fed."

"This is good." Daenys answered shortly. She took small bites of the oatmeal, pulling parts of the bread to slowly chew. She felt like her body was going through the motions completely on its own, her brain firing in a million different directions yet going nowhere at all.

"..Princess?" Cregan asked again, stirring her.

He had been talking for a while, she thought. Daenys hummed, gesturing for him to continue. His meal was done already, how much time had passed?

"I said I would like to take you to Castle Black, if you would allow me."

"The Wall?" Daenys furrowed her brow, placing her spoon into the half-full bowl.

"It would be a two week trip on horseback, and you can see what your predecessors witnessed all those years ago. A reminder of what the North protects the realm from."

In simple terms, he wanted to convince her to take the least amount of men to arms as possible. She was not dull. Perhaps he thought she was, just like the court men. He was talking like a Southerner, now. All hidden meanings and pretty half-truths. Disappointing, truly, Daenys liked the straightforward Stark better.

"I would not oppose a trip to see the Wall. It would be much faster on Morningstar, but I'm sure your council would oppose their lord doing such a thing." She said wryly. Daenys didn't want to become curt with the kind lord, but her displeasure with his words made itself clear in her tone

He grimaced slightly before straightening up, bowing his head politely. "I have some matters to attend to before we depart. I will have some things packed for you. For now, get some rest, we'll leave in the afternoon." He left quickly, and it was then that she noticed his fur coat was missing. She could make out his body shape now, no longer hidden and cloaked by the massive fur. When had he left them?

The weight on her own shoulders as she stood solved that question for her. The familiar brown furs surrounded her like a blanket, warm yet drowning. Was it bear? Or even wolf? Daenys wasn't sure, but her heart beated harder knowing that he had sat with her all night, keeping her safe and warm despite knowing her dragon was perfectly capable.

Daenys settled into her chambers, forgoing slipping under the furs already on her bed in exchange for the fur Cregan had provided her. It smelled like him, a deep wood and iron scent that might have been too strong and unfitting on anyone but the Warden himself. The comfort soothed her to sleep quicker than she had in many moons.

🗡

Strong hands guided Daenys through the courtyard of the Red Keep. Ser Harwin Strong, her mother's sworn protector, had become more of a protector for herself these past few moons.

When the nightmares started, the Red Keep was put ill at ease with the little girl, avoiding her like the plague. While most took after Queen Alicent, avoiding her and gossiping about how the girl must be a witch, condemning people to horrible fates with her predictions, the bolder ones like her uncle Aegon had done the opposite.

Harassments, taunts, planting some of Helena's bugs into her bed, even getting physical when no one was looking. Who would believe the mad girl besides her own mother? The prince, of course, never received any reprimanding or punishment. He always got away with everything, per usual. He had the Queen herself in his corner, who defended his vile behavior even when multiple servant girls came sobbing to the Queen's chambers.

Rhaenyra couldn't bare to watch her only daughter be so tormented, especially by her own family. She instructed Harwin to keep a close eye on her, as her escort and guardian around the keep. He had no qualms with this, of course. The girl was beloved by him and Rhaenyra deeply, though this coddling did not go unnoticed by the royal family.

Daenys' one credit as a child was her silver hair and purple hues, an image of her mother. Her brothers after her were not so lucky, born brown-eyed and brown-haired. Ser Harwin was said to be the sire of Rhaenyra's army of dragon-riding bastards, to the obliviousness of Daenys.

When she grew older, she realized that Alicent was right in that one thing. Harwin Strong undoubtedly fathered the boys. She was unclear about her own father, but Harwin's affections for her never differed from her brothers.

She found herself not minding. Ser Laenor claimed the children as his own and loved her mother as a dear companion. But Harwin's love for Rhaenyra was different than Laenor's. She saw the look in his eyes as he gazed upon the heir, filled with devotion and love unmatched by any other wed couple in the keep. Daenys had only seen such a love displayed by them. Even long after Harwin's death, when Rhaenyra remarried her uncle Daemon, Daenys never saw that look in another man's eyes.

Daemon's love was passionate but possessive. It scared Daenys slightly, but she was happy so long as her mother was safe.

This day, Daenys wished to watch her uncles and brothers training in the yard. Ser Criston Cole usually overlooked the boys' training, leaving much to be desired in terms of favoritism. Much like his Queen, Criston despised the bastard boys. Though the four trained together, Rhaenyra's sons usually only watched as Aegon and Aemond practiced with their wooden swords.

Harwin left Daenys at the steps after a gentle ruffle of her loose hair, where she quietly sat and observed. Glancing at a bench overseeing the yard, Daenys spotted King Viserys also overlooking the morning training.

Harwin spoke a few words to Ser Criston for a moment, inaudible to Daenys but clearly pissing the Dornish knight off. Cole intructed that the eldest boys be placed against each other, though it was unfair.

Harwin's protests were thus ignored by the kingsguard, Daenys perking in her seat to watch Aegon and Jace spar. Quite a poor match, seeing their age and skill difference.

Aegon easily beat Jace, knocking the sword from his hand but not giving his opponent any mercy, still stepping forward to attack the young boy.

Harwin grabbed Aegon in a firm hold, tossing him away from Jacaerys. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" Aegon screeched like a banshee, never being put in his place like that before. Spoiled brat.

Harwin scolded Cole, ignoring the eldest prince intentionally. After lifting Jace from the floor, Harwin glanced over the boy.

"Are you alright?"

Embarrassed, Jace only nodded with flushed cheeks and dusted himself off. "Thank you, Ser." He mumbled.

But Cole did not leave the matter, baiting the older knight. "You forget yourself, that is the prince." He said, a smirk on his tanned face.

"Is that what you teach, Cole? Cruelty." Harwin spat back, picking up the wooden swords from the dirt.

"Your interest in the princeling's training is quite unusual. Most men would only have that kind of devotion toward a cousin. Or a brother." He smiled brighter, "or a son."

Without skipping a beat, Harwin strong turned and swung at Cole's smug face. Again, and again until the man was on the floor and not fighting back.

Daenys stood and gasped, calling out towards her protector. "Ser Harwin!" she rushed forward, being stopped only by Jace and Luke, who could also only watch.

Harwin was dragged off of Cole, still spitting insults at the younger whilst the blood-covered man laughed as if he had won.

Aegon laughed loudly, now the loudest sound in the yard as both knights were escorted inside.

"Seems like the Strong bastards won't be so protected anymore." He snickered with Aemond at his side, loud enough for only the three to hear. Viserys took his leave, too, most likely to go settle the fight.

"We're not bastards!" Jacaerys yelled at him. Daenys and Lucerys were quiet behind him. Jace, though a year younger than Daenys, had taken the mantle of the protective one of the siblinge ever since Daenys had started getting shunned.

She was grateful for it, despite the nagging guilt she had for never defending herself or her little brothers.

"Just look at yourself, Lord Strong. Brown hair...pale skin..brown eyes. Perhaps Rhaenyra isn't your mother, either." Aegon said, earning a half-hearted laugh from Aemond beside him.

Ever the quiet of the two, Aemond faced his own bullying from Aegon and Daenys' brothers for being the only one of them to not claim a dragon. Typically, this made him stay out of any spats between Rhaenyra's children and Aegon, out of fear that he would be the next target.

Surprisingly, he even left Daenys alone. He spent much time with Helena, just as she did. They happened to spend a lot of time together in their youth because of their mutual bond, but they never gained a bond between themselves.

"You take that back!" Jace demanded, stepping foward and shoving at Aegon's chest. Being so much taller than Jacaerys, Aegon barely stepped back, only growing more amused.

"Jace.." Daenys urged behind him, tugging at his armor. "Let's go inside, I want to check on Ser Harwin."

Aegon turned to her now, "Its a mystery who your father might be. Ser Strong, Prince Daemon, Ser Laenor. I've even heard rumor of Rhaenyra having a tryst with Criston Cole at one time. Perhaps the cunt herself doesn't even know who your-" Aegon was abruptly cut off with a punch to his face so hard that he was sent to the floor. Shocked, he looked up expecting Jacaerys to have been the offender, but instead met the furious face of Daenys Velaryon. She didn't give him time to get up, punching and scratching at his pink face.

The other three stood stunned for a few moments, unsure if they wanted to let her continue or pry her off. Even Aemond stifled a laugh with a hand, turning away so Aegon couldn't notice.

Eventually Aegon grew out of his shock, easily throwing the younger girl off of him by her shoulders. Wiping his face, he stood and snarled down at Daenys, lifting a foot to kick at her while she was down, but was stopped and tackled by her two brothers. Now, Aemond choose to defend his older brother against the boys, albeit slightly reluctantly. The Pink Dread prank still heavily weighed on his mind every day.

Guards noticed at this point that the squabble of princes and the princess was no mere play fight, punches and kicks being thrown this way and that. The four of them seperated by forceful hands, given no time to walk themselves as they were dragged inside.

"Keep my mothers name out of your dirty mouth, līve!" She screamed behind her shoulder at the boy, who seemed shocked at the insult coming from her mouth. Jace and Luke, not versed in High Valyrion yet, didn't react, although she heard a snicker from Aemond as he was taken to Viserys with Aegon.

The other three were taken directly to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra, quietly resting on her settee with little Joffrey coddled up in her arms, was surprised to see all three of her eldest children in such a state. She stood immediately, "what happened?" She asked the guards, handing Joff to the wet nurse and gingerly cradling her children's bruised faces.

"The princess and princes got into an altercation in the yard. Ser Harwin and Cole have also been sent to the King for their actions." One said, before being dismissed by Rhaenyra.

"I want the truth of it, now." She sternly told them, stress furrowing her brows.

"Ser Harwin beat up Cole." Luke said first, giving no context.

"Because Cole called us bastards." Jace continued, clearing it.

Rhaenyra sighed, putting a hand over her stomach, which Daenys noticed became a habit during her pregnancies as a way to calm herself.

"If Harwin is the one who fought Cole, why are you three all bruised up?"

Daenys avoided her eyes, earning a lifted brow from her mother. Jace stepped in to help, "Aegon started it! He called you.." He seemed to pause now too, not wanting to shame his mother with Aegon's vileness.

The three shared glanced between themselves, not guilty for fighting Aegon but guilty for not defending their mother's honor better. "He called you a cunt. And implied dishonorable actions." Daenys told her, biting her cheek hard after. Her face hurt.

Rhaenyra only sighed, bringing her children to her side to embrace them all. She breathed in to start a surely long speech, but Harwin entering the room disrupted that plan. Daenys was grateful for it.

He closed the chamber doors behind himself, gold Lord Commander's cloak was no longer wrapped over his shoulders. His armor was also off, as if he was taking a leisure day.

"Harwin?" Rhaenyra spoke, confused as to why he was visiting in such a state.

"I am being assigned back to Harrenhall with my father. The King has let me go from my time as Lord Commander." Was his answer. Pretty words for 'fired' from his duty. Just for defending the princes and their mother.

Rhaenyra gasped, hand bringing itself once again to hover over her stomach. "For what offence?" She demanded. Her eyes were glossy with tears, but she could not let herself cry. Princesses do not cry over losing their guards.

Daenys knew then, that they were not merely protector and princess. They were husband and wife, in all but name. Harwin looked down at Rhaenyra with all the softness in the realm. "It is my own fault, I lost my temper." The two stood to the side for a minute, whispering amonst themselves. Daenys respectfully looked away, finding Jace staring them down intensely.

Harwin held Rhaenyra's face for only a moment, tender and bittersweet as they couldn't do anything more to say their goodbyes.

He turned to the children, "Luke, Jace. Keep up with your training, do not let Cole or the princes bully you out from improving. You will be fine knights." He smiled at them proudly, petting each of their heads and turning to Daenys.

Tears welled in her eyes, falling down her cheeks freely. She was not as strong as her mother, unable to control her feelings. "Ser.." She sobbed, barreling into his chest and burying her face into the tunic's material. Gently he held her, soothing her hair down from the mess it had became in the yard. "Don't fret, my dear girl. I will not be gone forever."

The smell of fire invaded her senses as he said that, a suffocating feeling enveloping her as she continued to cry. "I don't want you to leave at all." She told him.

"He must, we cannot change the will of the king." Rhaenyra said from behind her, rubbing her back soothingly. Harwin and Rhaenyra shared another heavy look, both knowing how much Daenys relied on Harwin.

Harwin had to break the princess off of him eventually, pressing a tender kiss to her temple as he did. "I will be a stranger when we meet again.' He told Rhaenyra, who only nodded and smiled solemnly at him.

Harwin Strong took his leave from the Red Keep that day, and never returned to his family.

Jace watched the man walk away, down the hall. "Is Harwin Strong my father?" He asked Rhaenyra stiffly. "Are we bastards?"

Rhaenyra swiftly looked around for any onlookers, relieved to find none. "You are Targaryens. That's what matters," she whispered firmly.

Daenys only stared at the space Harwin had once been, wishing things could stay the same forever.

"I am going to bed," she told her mother.

She wished she had not.

🗡

"My Lady?" The maid from yesterday evening woke Daenys from her deep sleep. Groggily she sat up, stretching out her stiff muscles. The cold affected her more than she thought. "Lord Stark is ready to depart. We have packed all the things you will need for the trip, I just need to get you ready."

Daenys was too tired to talk, only nodding along and allowing the older maid to dress her and do her hair. Pulled in a simple half-up braid, Daenys groaned at the thought of having to do her own braids while in the wilderness. The dress she was put in was a light blue, lined with white fur, softer than any she had felt before.

"All done, princess. He's waiting in the hall for you." She patted Daenys' shoulder in a motherly way, sending the girl off to the dining hall.

Daenys grabbed his fur coat before leaving, finding him standing in front of the hearth silently. He perked up when he spotted her, smiling almost instinctively. "Princess," he nodded. "Ready to leave?"

It was only then that she noticed a giant wolf at his feet, staring at her with bright blue eyes, contasting its brown fur. A direwolf, it must be. Tamed by the Stark? Their sigil seemed to ring true, just like the Targaryen's.

"As I'll ever be." She answered evenly, slightly looking forward to the trip. She'd never been on such a journey, only ever riding horseback for short distances and never once staying outside for more than a night. It would be interesting. "And who's this?"

"Dusk. He mostly stays outside, but I figured we could use his protection on our travels." Cregan gestured to the wolf. He seemed wild in most ways, Daenys would guess that he was when he was on his own, but Cregan being bonded to him and accustoming the animal to human domestication. Quite like the Targaryens and their dragons.

"I'm happy to have him, as long as he can get along with Morningstar." She smiled.

Hopefully she can find common ground with Lord Stark, gaining more men for the Queen.

Cregan offers Daenys his arm, which she takes as he guides her to their readied horses. "I picked out this one for you. He's a young stud, but he reminded me of Morningstar." Daenys felt her heart skip a beat when he said that, the thoughtfulness of the aftion making her smile brightly. She released his arm to pet the horse's snow-white face, greeting it.

"Thank you, my lord. He's beautiful." She said.

"Of course, princess." He kept his eyes on her a moment longer, before offering his hand again to help her mount. After adjusting herself on the saddle, Cregan mounted his own horse, a pretty chestnut mare.

Winterfell gave the two a cheerful goodbye parting, Daenys had to resist rolling her eyes. The same commonfolk who had gossiped about her yesterday were eagerly waving hankerchiefs at her and wishing their beloved princess well.

Cregan seemed amused by her stiff jaw as they walked past the gates. "Do you know what the folk call you?" He asked.

"I could think of a hundred names I've been called. None of them pleasent." She replied, eyeing him.

Above them, Morningstar glided gleefully, happy to be traveling again although she didn't know the destination.

Chuckling, he shook his head. "The Dragon Dreamer."

Stunned, she turns to look straight at him, finding his attention fully on her still.

"I..don't see why." She blushed. Never before had her visions been painted in a positive light of any kind.

"Northerners aren't so out of tune with the magic of this realm, as other kingdoms are. Have you ever heard of wargs?"

"A few times, in fairytales." She sniffed.

He nodded, "do you not believe in them?"

"Anything could be true. In a world where I ride a dragon, who am I to deny other types of magic?" She offered.

"Aye. My ancestors have dealt with magic since the first men. Stuff you wouldn't believe, out beyond the wall."

"What's beyond the wall?"

"Death."

🗡

alicent hightower you ARE the father

Līve - whore

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #cregan stark x oc #cregan x reader #dragondreamer

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scremogirl · 2 years ago

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✪⁂✫彡𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓✵ミ★✥

𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬

Yandere! Childhood friend x Hyper aware! Reader

Slight⚠︎︎warning. The reader is slightlllyyy narcissistic, you gotta squint to see it. Like always check the end for a note. Enjoy!

It wasn’t more than a day that you you two weren’t together. From third grade all the way to your senior year in high school; he was always there. To think it all started from simply sharing your colored pencils.

Micah was your best friend, you’ve done everything together. All your first were together too. Your first kiss for example.

“I-I don’t know about this Micah, just don’t want things to be weird after this,” you hesitated.

“It’s fineee, I promise. Besides, you're my best friend; nothing could ever be weird between us,” you cringed a little at the fact that your first kiss was calling you his best friend. Not that it wasn’t true, it just wasn't as romantic as middle school you thought a first kiss would be. Your first date.

You held your head in your hands staring at the floor and heaved a big sigh. Your date had just stood you up. This wasn’t the first time this happened either, guys would ask you out and then just end up flaking. When you tried to talk to him earlier in the day he was sporting a big bruise on his jaw and cussed you out. You weren’t gonna let that slide tho, so when you called Micah to come help he hurley apologized and scurried off.

“I promise it’s not you beautiful, besides, he doesn’t know what he’s missing,” it goes silent for a bit before he perks up with a loud gasp.

“I know! How about we go see the movie together? He still let you keep the tickets right?”

You even had your first together. I mean, if that isn't true friendship I don’t know what is. So, why is it starting to feel not so friendly between you two anymore? He’s been acting a little weird as of late. He’s been more handsy lately; arm always around your shoulder or waist. He’s always been like this, and you guys did have sex once, but… this is different. His grip is a little tighter and his hands fall a little lower. He comes up behind you while you stand at the vending machine down the hall from the cafeteria, burying his face in your neck. When you told him to stop because you’re in school and people will start thinking things about you two, he just shrugs and says, “Nothing that they haven’t seen before,” with a dismissive wave of his hand. He even tried to kiss you yesterday when you left his house from a sleepover, claiming that it would keep you safe on your journey home (which is literally and I mean literally, right next door).

You’re not dumb. You know he likes you. In love with you. Everyone knows that. You know that he was the one that beat up your crush. You know why he wanted to have all his firsts with you. You noticed all the panties going missing every time he would visit. You noticed all your chewed pens and leftover food being taken out of the trash. You noticed his hard-on every time you’d wear a low-cut shirt or too short of a skirt. You noticed the box of your stuff tucked away under his bed when you dropped your pen whilst you were over-studying. You saw the photo album pushed into the corner of his basement. You saw the bloody rags and knives in the bathroom cabinet. You saw the way he would look at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. You liked the attention and the way he made you feel. But, you just couldn’t bring yourself to actually pursue him. He was your best friend and that was that. It’s not that you weren’t open to the idea of the two of you getting together, you were practically made for each other. Courtesy of him studying your insides ;) and outs. It's just the fact you know if you have him the time of day, you wouldn’t have time for anything else. Completely suffocated by his overwhelming love and attention.

That leads you to now. This is the first date you’ve been on since that incident in the beginning of your high school career. You met him in your psych class, thankfully one of the only ones you and Micah don’t share. Sure, you’ve had a couple one one-night stands and summer flings but as it denotes, they were all short-lived. This guy was different, he was sweet, funny, and paid attention when you talked; the whole package. But of course, this wouldn’t last long either. Prom was supposed to be the most exciting night for a senior. A big party with all your friends, dancing, laughing, the whole nine yards. That was until you saw your date tongue fucking another girl when you came back from getting the punch he requested. You sighed. Taking note of the not-so-discreetly placed $100 dollar bill in his suit's pocket. Of course. Just then you feel a tap on your shoulder. As you turn around you see him in all his glory. A y’all figure with his hair slicked back, one strategically placed string in the front. The dark blue suit perfectly matched your dress no matter how much you insisted that it was inappropriate because of your date. Green eyes peering down into yours with a mock of pity and astonishment. The scar on his cheek barley noticeable. He got it in an accident he had when you two were younger. He would always try to make you kiss it better, saying that it eased the pain from literally ages ago.

Micah.

“How about you and I go grab some dinner instead, hm?” The drive to the diner is silent. You two stuck out like a sore thumb in the cozy setting of the mom-and-pop shop. They’ve come to recognize you both. Ms. Dané, one of the owners of the shop would always question why you two weren’t together yet as her husband would chastise her for being so bold. Though, you could see it in his eyes just how curious he was.

You pull up to the mountain you two discovered on one of your long car rides to nowhere last summer. You spent most of it building a comfy place for the two of you to have your deep and emotional conversations. As you sit on the hill, looking down at the city and taking a bite of your burger, he turns to you. Before he could speak to you, you held up your hand effectively stopping him.

“I know,” he looks at you with wide eyes full of confusion. You take a handful of fries this time, chew, and swallow again before speaking.

“I don’t need you to lie to me.”

“He wasn’t good for you anyways,” he abruptly replies, it came out harsher than he attended it too.

“Besides, what kind of a guy would ask a girl out and then kiss another one a day later?” He huffs out an irritated laugh.

“That’s not what I meant, Michael,” the use of his full name struck a bit of fear in his heart. And pleasure to his pants.

“I know it was you,” he tries to speak but you put your fingers to his lips. Chewing on your burger and taking a sip of your soda to help push it down. The time it takes you to respond kills him, he tapping his leg and picking at the scar on his cheek anticipation. A habit he’s always had when he’s nervous or anxious.

“You know what I mean. I saw the money in his pocket,” He doesn’t wait for an explanation or care how you found out it was him. He pushes his food to the side before climbing over your outstretched legs. You’ve taken your heels off at his point, too uncomfortable to be walking up a mountain with. Micah insisted on carrying you anyways, saying that your dress was too expensive to get dirty but he gravel mud.

“I can’t stand the thought of someone else being by your side. I’m the one who's been here for you throughout everything. I'm the one who laughs with you when you're happy, cries with you when you're sad, and calms you down when you're mad. Not him. Not your parents. Not anyone. It’s always been you and me. Ever since the third grade you’ve been the one I wanted. I love (Y/n), nothing and no one can change that,” at this point his hands have a firm grip on your shoulders. Knees firmly planted into the hard ground beside you, surely his nice pants are fitted and scuffed but right now he couldn't care less. He stares deep into your eyes waiting for you to say something; anything.

For what seems like the millionth time you sighed since you met him, your gaze drops from your half-eaten burger to his frantic ones.

“Okay, Micah,” you say rubbing your thumb along the scar on his cheek. whose whole demeanor suddenly changes, this is the happiest you’ve ever seen him. Well since that day *if you know what I mean ^*. This time he grabs your food and pushes it away. You're a little sad, you wanted to finish the rest of that. You had no time to think, however, as he lays you down in the makeshift fort you’ve created. He lowers his head down, placing kisses on the column of your neck. He makes his way up to behind your ear, smelling his favorite of your perfumes. In his delusion, he can’t help to think that you wanted him to kiss you here. Placing it there to entice him in all the ways he wants you to. He rubs his cock against you, trying to get as much friction as he can. Even though it’s dark out and his suit is even darker, but the fairly lights strings up in the tiny fort help you see the pre-cum staining the front of the soft, thin material of his pants.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that. I promise this’ll be even better than the first. He could never compare to how I’m gonna make you feel,” he runs his hands up your waist, kissing the corner of your lips.

“Besides,” he starts. Eyes lowering down to your dress that has now risen to just above your lace panties

“I’m the only one who gets to see you full and dripping with cum”.

I don’t think I’m gonna turn Micah the into a full OC. If you liked it however, maybe I’ll make a couple headcanons or something. For the most part this was just a one shot. Again make sure to go check out my friends twist on the idea. ^the at is mentioned in the note above. Bye loves!

-Love, Sos❤️

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere childhood friend #✧✩🜚𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 🜸𖤐✰#✪⁂✫彡𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓✵✥☆ミ★

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aemondluvbot · 9 months ago

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𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖜 — 𝖎

✧ ⸺ aemond x reader︱part two

𝔞. 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: i adore reading shy and timid heroines that are coaxed out of their shells. as such i adore writing them too. i'm also not incredibly well versed about the hotd universe. whatever i know is based only on the show, so it's possible there are errors. still, i hope you enjoy.

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: reader is quite shy but not overly so. smut, intercourse (p in v), horrible “riding a dragon” puns

“you wish to ride a dragon?” prince aemond’s voice startles you enough for you the drop the pillow you’re holding.

it’s freshly fluffed, about to be placed on the bed you’d made so neatly just minutes ago. and now the pillow sits on it awkwardly while you stare at the prince like a scared little deer.

“my prince…” you manage a faint squeak, “i was—”

“telling the other maids how you’d be a stellar dragon rider, i heard,” the prince’s mouth curls into a little smirk you’ve come to know well from stolen glances. you stare at his feet, too afraid to meet his eyes. well, eye.

“i didn’t mean…” you fidget with the hem of your frayed dress, wondering what the punishment would be. lashings? cleaning pigsties for a week? a month?

“but you said it.” aemond’s voice still has that tone to it that you can’t quite decipher. and so you stand frozen while he looks at you from across the room. “tell me, my lady—”

“i’m no lady,” you pipe up, shutting up instantly when you realise you’ve interrupted a prince. the prince. “forgive me, my prince, i didn’t mean to interrupt. i…i…”

“you’re no lady,” he hums, as if you aren’t standing there shaking like a leaf, “what shall i call you then, little sparrow?”

his voice is soft like it always is—never boisterous like the king’s or stern like the dowager queen’s. it’s quiet and lilting and compelling. as much as you don’t want to meet his gaze, you find yourself doing exactly that.

“on second thought,” he crosses his arms behind his back, taking graceful steps towards you like he’s gliding on the floor, “sparrow…has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“it does, my prince,” you smile to yourself quietly, “if you like it then i like it.”

for anyone else it would have been a lie. for king aegon, it certainly would have been a lie. but for the prince…when he says it, it’s like the name belongs to you. so much so that for a moment you forget where this conversation first started. until you find prince aemond standing directly in front of you, towering over you that is.

“so tell me, little sparrow,” he says again, voice so soft it skitters down your bones and makes you shiver in the middle of a long, hot summer, “you wish to ride a dragon?”

“the truth?” you ask, feeling a little braver than before.

“i’ll have nothing but that.”

for a moment you chew on your lip, a nervous habit taken up in lieu of biting your dirty, already worn fingernails. aemond’s gaze snags on it, though, and quickly you let go, begging your body to be a little more brave and keep meeting his eyes. it’s not everyday you get to see so much of him. in fact, it’s the first time you’ve gotten to see so much of him.

“they fascinate me, your dragons,” you begin, “sunfyre, mostly.”

“my brother’s dragon,” the prince raises an eyebrow, looking at you with much more curiosity than before. “not vhagar?”

“she scares me, to be honest…” you admit, flushing a little when the prince’s smirk turns into a full blown smile. the smile stays for just a fleeting moment, enough for you to store it in your memories like a stolen sweet.

“she does that, yes,” he chuckles. it’s barely audible and yet pride blooms in your chest for having coaxed that sound out of him.

“i…” you look around a little awkwardly, at the mess in the room that’s yet to be cleaned. it’s not that you don’t want to stand here and talk to him, if anything, that’s the one thing you want the most. to stand here and talk to him about his dragons, and have him tell you about them. have him tell you about himself too…

but if you don’t do your tasks on time then there’s consequences to face. consequences the prince won’t save you from. and so you give aemond a guilty smile.

you must go and you must go now.

“of course,” aemond bows a little, stepping aside to make way for you.

quickly, you fix the pillow to where it was originally supposed to be and gather the old linens in your arms. then you curtsey as fast as you can and leave.

you leave and are almost our the door before aemond’s voice freezes you mid-step.

“if you ever wish to ride a dragon, little sparrow… you know where to find me.”

the day passes, and all you manage to do is think about aemond. you think about him as you wash the linens and hang them to dry, you think about him while you help the kitchen maids with the pots and wipe the floors of the keep.

you think about him as you eat and gossip away with your friends.

you don’t tell them though… all they know is that you were the one to clean his room in the morning and gather his linens. nothing more.

they will never know anything more.

if you ever wish to ride a dragon, little sparrow… you know where to find me.

that… is for you and you alone.

you do get teased a little for your absent-minded smiles and your lack of attention to their gossip. you get teased and asked if any of the stable boys have caught your fancy. stable boys…nothing more. not a soldier or a knight or a lord. certainly not a prince.

and yet when night falls you find yourself idling in the hallways that lead to his quarters.

if you ever wish to ride a dragon, little sparrow… you know where to find me.

“does the prince need hot water?” you ask one of the maids, “for…for his bath…”

she looks at you in confusion. “malina’s already taken it,” she says, “minutes ago.”

and so you drop the apple in your hands and hurry outside towards the prince’s room. malina is old, she can’t have gone that far can she? just like you predicted, she’s there when you turn around the corner, carefully balancing the hot water in her hands while a few other girls carry similar pots. you quickly cross the gap and call out for her.

“let me,” you offer, arms outstretched, “you can go rest, malina. i’m done for the day, i can take this.”

she smiles at you gratefully while grumbling about old knees and hands you the pot. and so you set on your way, hiding a quiet smile and ducking your head when one of the guards gives you a strange look.

the prince’s bedroom is awash in the glow of candlelight. for a moment, the excitement in your belly turns to disappointment. he isn’t here… of course he isn’t, he’s important and busy and has more things to do than sit in his bedroom all day thinking about you like you’ve thought about him.

“you’re back, little sparrow,” the softness of his voice send flutters in your stomach. the other girls look towards each other, quiet looks passing between them. you know this would take precisely half a minute to spread around the keep. and yet it does not bother you one bit.

“my prince, we’ve got water for your bath.”

“ah,” he nods and gestures vaguely towards the bathing chamber.

one by one all of you enter, emptying the buckets in the brass tub until it’s full of steaming water and soaps and oils. one by one the others start leaving, their job done…

the towels are on the counter, the candles are burning, the tub is filled—there’s nothing more to be done. you know he usually prefers to be alone. and yet you linger.

you linger until aemond targaryen enters the bathing chamber, naked as the day he was born.

and then you turn around fast enough to bump into the wall.

“you startle easily, little sparrow,” aemond laughs. “never seen a naked man before?”

you have… that’s not the problem. you’ve just never seen a naked man as…well-endowed as him. your back still to him and your heart in your chest, you nod. there’s a slight splash as he settles into the tub. some of the spilled water licks the soles of your feet. finally, timidly, you turn.

at least under the cloudy water he’s not so naked anymore. although his (now wet) chest certainly does nothing to calm your racing heart.

“tell me,” aemond says, “did you think about dragons all day?”

well…

“maybe,” you hedge, “a little.” and it’s not a lie. you did think of vhagar for a little, and sure it was only to think about aemond riding her into the skies, but she was there in your thoughts. briefly.

“and what do you know about them?”

from most people it would have been a condescending question, one to point out your intellectual capabilities or the lack thereof. from aemond it’s simply curiosity.

“i know they’re gods. i know they’re old and powerful and only someone with valyrian blood can claim one. i know targaryen babes get a dragon’s egg for their cradle.” you answer rather proudly.

“very good,” aemond nods. “come here. sit.”

you look to where he’s pointing, at a little step stool in the corner. and then you see where his eyes are pointing, at a spot right by the tub.

“do you read?” aemond asks as soon as you’ve settle by the tub. you blush, a little embarrassed.

“i can’t…”

“no worries,” his voice turns gentle, “i was going to give you a book about vhagar’s riders. now i will just have to tell you about her myself.”

that startles you a little. surprised, you look at him again, really look at him—at his face that’s soft in the candlelight and his one eye that twinkles with mischief. you look at the leather patch covering the other, at the scar that runs around it.

“can i ask why, my prince…”

“well,” aemond moves a little, sitting up straighter so a little more of his chest is now visible to you. the water cascades down pale skin, the candlelight creates hypnotising patterns that are pretty enough that you almost reach out and touch.

touch the water and the light and the skin. touch him.

but that’s a silly thought for silly girls.

quickly you ball your hand into a fist and look at him again only to find him smirking.

“as i was saying,” aemond says a little pointedly, “you can’t be scared of her if you wish to ride her someday now, can you?”

your heart thuds so loudly in your chest, you wonder if he can hear it. perhaps the entire red keep can hear it, perhaps king’s landing.

“i can’t ride her, she’s yours and… and she’ll kill me if i… she’ll burn me alive if i even go near her! and that’s if the guards don’t take my head first—”

“hush, little sparrow,” aemond moves fast enough that you have barely any time to stop rambling before he’s out of the tub and kneeling in front of you, his finger on your lips. not that you need it really, the situation is entirely enough to stun you into silence.

you gape at the prince, at his beautiful, wet body that looks like it’s gleaming golden in the candlelight. you gape at him kneeling on his knees for you. a nobody.

“will you stay quiet or will i have to make you?” he asks, his tone a little coy.

heat coils in your belly, “would you like to, my prince?”

and that’s more bold than you’ve ever been in your entire life. but now that you’re here and desperate and wanting so so much, you can’t really let shyness snatch it away. and so you straighten up a little, letting your eyes roam freely on his body.

there are scars on his skin, of course there are, but even they look beautiful. then there’s the muscle honed by hours of sword training. his beautiful silver hair is damp from the water and gleaming like molten metal. you reach out and touch—just one strand that’s managed to stick to his cheek.

aemond groans.

leaving would be wise… leaving right this second would be even wiser, and yet when aemond tugs on your wrist and pulls you closer, it’s you who kisses him first. it’s heady, dizzying, intoxicating. he tastes like night air and burns like fire.

you feel quite the same.

your frayed old dress is quick to go as soon as he pulls you up—discarded by the tub casually. it gets half caught up on the edge but neither of you notice, too lost in the kiss. to caught up in the feel of the other’s body.

you know he knows this room like the back of his hand. you don't need to. you can trust him at least in this regard—to lead you to his bed and fuck you any way he wants.

“little sparrow,” he half-speaks, half-moans, “i want you. i want you right now.” it’s a needy and desperate confession, and it turns you on even more, makes your blood sing.

his hands are fast and nimble, eager to remove the last layer of clothes on you. still, the prince takes a moment to watch your hair come loose from your bun and cascade down your shoulders, his lips parted in awe and pupils blown out wide.

you watch him. simply because he looks beautiful.

“like what you see?” aemond teases and and you flush.

it’s certainly a sight—the two of you standing opposite each other, entirely naked and about to devour each other.

he walks backwards, eyes firmly on your body, lingering in all the places that make you feel like the only woman on he’s ever been with. he walks backwards till he eventually finds the bed and sits.

“come here,” aemond says, beckons more like. and so you do—walking with a deliberate sway to your hips that his eyes train on until you’re standing right in front of him. knees touching his.

“beautiful,” he says, looking up at you in awe.

you’re not entirely sure it’s true. you’re no lady in the court or a pretty foreign beauty. you’re no beautiful woman of the night, but hearing him say the words is still a delight. he makes it sound like he’s consumed by your beauty (even though it’s likely the lust that’s hazing their thoughts).

and yet he makes you feel like his own little midnight sun—bright, unique, central to his universe.

you from before would have never though such stupid thoughts.

and now you let him pull you onto his lap.

you kiss him again, slow and sensual this time, rolling your hips against his, grinding on his thigh. it’s a deliberate torment, a torturous build-up so he could finally relieve the ache between your legs.

“please, my prince” you breathe, “touch me.”

so he does, gently gripping your waist to keep you in the steady rhythm while his mouth moves down to your breasts. his tongue flicks around your nipple, drawing out a gasp and making you arch your back. you want more, so much more.

aemond seems to sense the need.

in one fluid movement, he’s on his back, and you on top. his cock brushes against your clit, drawing out whimpers. moonlight filters in through the windows, illuminating his face only just so that you can see his swollen lips—red, delicious—you can’t resist stealing another kiss.

can’t resist tangling your hands in his silver hair and tracing a finger down his cheekbones, his jaw. he hisses with every movement, hard and throbbing beneath you.

“are you ready for me, little sparrow?,” he moans, lowering you on his abdomen. his erection is pressed against your ass now—ready is what you are… ready and aching, eager to feel him.

“p-please, my prince…”

aemond tuts. “say my name…”

your heart speeds up a little in your chest. it’s one thing to be sleeping with the prince, it’s another to forget your manners entirely and address him like he’s your equal.

“i c-can’t,” you whimper, moving your hips in a desperate attempt to feel something.

“i’ll stop this if you won’t” aemond says it like a promise, and there’s no way you want to risk it. if there’s even a slight chance of him stopping and leaving you here like this, a mess at his mercy…

“a-aemond,” you whisper his name like it’s an unpredictable thing. his breath hitches in his chest. “aemond please…”

“good little sparrow…” his hands come to rest on your waist, lifting you up and gently guiding you down on his cock, filling you in inch by inch. you splay a hand on his chest, barely registering his racing heart. all you can focus on is how good he feels; hard and stretching you out. filling you to the hilt.

“so perfect,” he hisses. his hands grip your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh while you roll your hips on his pelvis; too eager and desperate and full of want. you can already feel a bruise blooming on the back of your thighs where he grips so possessively.

“so are you, m–aemond,” you breathe, already consumed by the feeling of his cock hitting you over and over, in just the right spot. his hand reaches down and between your legs then, finding your clit and rubbing it in circles until you’re screaming his name and practically soaking him with your slick.

aemond moves his hips too, thrusting up, fucking into you till a continuous string of curses falls out of his mouth. his chest glistens with sweat, sticky and warm and beautiful in the moonlight.

you’re lost in the pleasure, but you traces the scars on his chest—the faint dusting of hair and freckles, little nicks and cuts and faint bruises. you trace every part of him like he belongs to you somehow. like you belong to him too…

you suppose you do… at least that much is true.

the pleasure builds and builds, your thoughts swirl more and disappear entirely the more he thrusts into you. he’s figured out your pattern—the rhythm that makes you tick and drives you crazy. and even when your thighs burn and tremble, you can’t seem to slow down.

all you want to do is soar up and up and up until…

aemond’s hand is between your legs again, flicking your clit so roughly that it makes you cry out. and that’s what drives you over the edge.

you moan his name again, chanting it like a blind devotee as waves upon waves of pleasure crash over you. you’re vaguely aware that you’re gripping onto his shoulders tightly, vaguely aware that you can feel his cock twitching inside you, coating your walls with his release.

gasping, you throw your head back, letting the orgasm wash over you. the loud, filthy, wet sounds are softer now, slower in pace as you both come to a stop. no one says a word—not a single teasing word or praise—there are only your breaths, out of sync and loud.

you slump forward, resting your warm cheek on his chest, hearing his heart beating loudly in your ear.

“is that how it feels…?” your voice is ragged from screaming his name yet dripping with coyness. “is that how it feels to ride a dragon, my prince?”

aemond laughs—a real booming laugh that makes his chest vibrate and makes the sound permeate your skin, makes it settle bone deep.

“i should say yes, shouldn’t i, little sparrow?” his fingers thread through your hair, much gentler now, lulling you to sleep almost. “do not worry about it. you’ll find out soon enough anyway…”

#✧.* ⸺ valyria writes #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell #smut #sparrow!reader

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