#I went on and on about the writing style up top

[comixandco]

waiiiiit, now you made me think about other thing.... so, let's assume mermaids can get pregnant in human way right, but their child then has to be a merperson, because how would then a mermaid transform, if she turns into literal water... i can already imagine a pregnant mermaid and a baby with a littleee tail inside her LMAOOO.

no, actually, when mermaid transforms, the baby teleports to the backrooms /j

this goes sooo deep i just sought out a couple episodes of mako mermaids bc i remembered the guy was adopted and like. babies have to be brought up in that discussion right? And in the episode the teacher mermaid says “your mother was the only mermaid strong enough to stop you from getting your tail” which implies that????? they’re born without tails????????? How long are they babies with legs do the mermaids give birth on land and then return to the sea and their babies get tails then? do their tails slowly form as they grow older? if they have to become human to give birth why is it so unheard of for the mako mermaid girls to go on land for their mission? have they never seen any merbabies? there are canonically mermaids younger than them! And why does the h2o wiki refer to one of the characters as coming from a long line of mermen are mermaids not involved in the process do mermen get pregnant like seahorses????? why did they have to make mako mermaids and make everything so confusing?????? *cries*

putting mako mermaids aside because that’s a hot Mess. Would the baby also turn into water? it wasn’t in the moon pool but it’s parent was and the moon pool changes a person’s entire dna so like. it would change the eggs dna as well right? but the egg is only half of the dna and there would also be a human half that shouldn’t respond to water at all. does the mer dna overpower the human dna? would onlookers see a random tiny foetus floating in the air/water for a split second before the mermaid reappears around it?

yeah the baby goes wherever cleo’s coat went in the second episode

[gghostwriter]

One Single Thread of Gold

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 2 Summary: The three times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the one time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes Trope: Fluff! Just fluff and team banter! w.c: 4.0k a/n: For some reason, my earlier post on this disappeared dunno why. But this is a very self indulgent fic as reader’s background is basically based on the industry I work in. I had a lot of fun writing the team banter and I hope you enjoy it too! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗

The first clue presented itself on a dull Wednesday night as the team, minus Hotch and Rossi, were leaving the bullpen after a full day of pushing papers. Penelope in all of her sunshine and colorful glory was buzzing about these accessories that she once spotted on a storefront window.

“I saw a pair of earrings and a matching necklace that would look so good with that top you bought the other day, JJ. You know, the blue one with those soft sleeves—they would look great with it. It’s tres boho chic.”

JJ smiled, opening her mouth to reply, but Spencer beat her to it.

“Did you know that boho chic was actually a response to political and social movements?”

“Wait, what?” Emily interjected.

He took her disbelief as a sign to continue on. “Yeah, yeah. There’s an article written about it in Vogue—softness and femininity historically appears in moments of political stress and war. Just like in the 70s with the hippie and anti-war movement that defined their style as a generation.”

They all piled into the elevator and turned to face the boy genius like he grew another head. For all they knew, this could be a clone and a very bad one at that. The Spencer Reid that they knew had absolutely no interest in the realms of fashion.

Penelope was the first to break the silence. “Vogue?”

“Kid, what gives? Just the other time, you didn’t know how many shoes a woman owns and now you’re some kind of expert?” Derek asked with both eyebrows raised.

“Did not knowing activate some kind of button that made you want to read about it?” Emily added on, feeling like she was in some kind of TV prank show.

“What?” Spencer licked his lips, nervous with all the attention on him. He felt like he was about to slip something up that he had been keeping to himself for a while now. A hidden precious gem that was you. “I—I like to read.” A believable excuse except his voice went up an octave, giving him away.

The three women shared a look.

“But you read academic textbooks and classic literature,” JJ stated.

Penelope added on. “Not fashion magazines.”

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I don’t discriminate when it comes to reading. If it’s interesting—” he shifted his weight one side to another, thinking that the ride down on the elevator seemed to be taking slower than usual. “—I’ll read it.”

Penelope narrowed her eyes. She was no profiler but she could smell a lie from a mile away way. That wasn’t the whole truth. Dr. Spencer Reid was hiding something.

“Okay, see you tomorrow!” he squeaked out as he ran out of the elevator once it hit the lobby.

She turned to the three profilers, stunned with the boy genius’ erratic behavior. “Huh, did anybody else get the feeling that Spencer was hiding something?”

“Maybe, but the kid does read a lot. Maybe he just ran out of books.” Morgan shrugged.

The other two profilers tilted their heads and slowly nodded in agreement. It wasn’t far off on something Spencer would do. He did once pick up a pamphlet in the airport to read as mentioned before to her by Derek, granted it was for a case but still, Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else.

So when she arrived home that very same night, she propped up her laptop and got to digging. Boy Genius was hiding something big and Little Miss Oracle of Quantico can find anything with her tech skills. She’ll get to the bottom of this mystery, once and for all.

———

Spencer was glad to be coming home to your presence. Having spied the lights still on from the outside of the apartment, he took the steps two at a time, excited to see his 2nd favorite person after his mother—you.

“Spence?” You called out, having heard the mahogany front door open. “Is that you, baby?”

“Hey, love. I missed you,” he deposited his satchel to the nearby sofa and ran to give you a hug.

You burrowed yourself into his arms. All the muscles in your body relaxing as you caught a whiff of his cedar wood perfume—the same scent you’ve gifted to him during the early stages of dating. “I missed you too. How was your day?”

“Better now with you,” his words coming out muffled as he refused to detach himself from the embrace. “Actually, I almost slipped up today.”

You extricated from his arms to give him an inquisitive look. The slight scrunch on your nose and raised brows made his heart flutter. How expressive, free, and trusting you were. It reminded him of your first encounter. How you teasingly asked him if he was a serial killer when he offered you a ride home in the pouring rain and how you easily accepted regardless.

“Yeah? Did any of them catch on?” you probed as you pulled him by his belt loops to the direction of the bedroom.

He laughed, finding your aggression cute. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Maybe we should schedule dinner with them sometime,” you coyly suggested as you slowly started to unravel his tie. “I mean, we’ve been together for over a year now and I have moved into your apartment, under the guise of watering your plants while you’re away. Which is a lie, by the way—”

“I have plants!” he protested. His hands divesting you out of his sweater, bringing to view his favorite silk set in deep purple that accentuated your skin and the blush on your cheeks.

“—that I brought over, Spence,” you quipped back. “But don’t worry, I won’t spill how the intelligent FBI agent fooled naive me into moving in with him.”

There was a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. “Love, I wouldn’t exactly call you naive—” his voice going an octave lower. “—not when you’re looking at me with those tempting eyes of yours.”

Giggling, you leaned in for a kiss, one that he quickly took over. His calloused dominant hand wrapped around the back of your neck, effectively caging you in while his other cradled your cheek—a stark contrast to the other. Kissing Spencer had always felt like a religious experience that you never want to part from.

Reluctantly pulling away, you caught glimpse of his need for you. His hazel eyes now dark as ink, nostrils slightly flared, teeth sinking into his lower lip, and his dominant hand dug into the fleshy nape of your neck. It made you feel desirable, like the goddess that he would call you when he’s on his knees tasting nectar from the source.

The discussion of inviting the team out for dinner was long forgotten. No other words were spoken as you pushed him on the bed—only the cries of his and your name and moans of ‘yes’ echoed well into the night.

***

The second clue was uncovered when Spencer walked into the cold windy bullpen with new black cardigan adorning his lithe body. It was non-descriptive to the untrained eye but for fashion enthusiast Penelope Garcia, she knew what those four white lines on the sleeve meant—luxury label and priced well above their pay grade.

She narrowed her eyes. The Spencer she knew wouldn’t dare spend his salary on anything besides limited first edition books. Something was truly up and she planned to get to the bottom of it as her initial online search turned up nothing.

“Reid, that’s a really nice sweater,” she complimented, throwing in her bait.

He smiled. The thought of who gave it to him warmed his heart. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks Garcia.”

Her sparkly pink kitten heels clacking on the floor as she came closer. “Can I see it?” she innocently asked.

The request threw Spencer off the loop but thought nothing of it as he shrugged and handed it to her—still warm from body temperature.

Her squeals caught the attention of the other profilers filling into the office.

“What is it, baby girl?” Morgan deposited his bag on the table and stationed himself beside her. “It’s Reid’s new sweater. Are you seeing something I’m not seeing?”

Garcia rolled her eyes. This was why females are considered more observant that their sex counterpart. Her chocolate thunder was a profiler but how could he not notice what she was deducing?

“Huh,” Emily surmised. “Based on the fibers, it’s definitely not polyester. Possibly a 100% wool, what do you think, JJ?”

“It says here on the tag—100% virgin wool,” she read out loud. “That makes it very expensive, right Garcia?”

The colorful tech analyst smiled. Her girls could never let her down. “Right you are, girlfriends! But it’s not only that, this—” pointing at the four stripes on the sleeve. “—this is a signature Thom Browne detail. Their prices go up to at least 600 dollars—” they all turned to Reid who seemed clearly agitated. “—now why does our boy wonder have a piece that could buy at most five cute heels?”

With his vast intellect, he couldn’t think of a way to weasel out of this impromptu interrogation. He couldn’t very well say that it was a gift now could he? If he did, that would lead to another hard hitting question ‘from who?’ He raked his hand through his curly hair, taking the same path as yours did just earlier as you gave him a kiss goodbye.

When you gifted him the cardigan from your last New York business trip, he really thought nothing of its material equivalence, besides feeling grateful and loved. It was proof that you paid attention to even the littlest details about him.

“Hey Spence, I got you something,” you looked up at him with sparkling eyes. The first thing you had done when you got home was run into his arms. A simple act that healed his aching heart from missing it’s other half.

You reached into your luggage, enthusiastically pulling out the black clothing wrapped in tissue paper like some magician pulling out a rabbit from a hat. “Here you go!”

“A new sweater!” He exclaimed.

You rocked on your heels, looking bashful as you explained the reasoning behind it. “I noticed you fidgeting when you wore the cardigan JJ gifted you last Christmas, the polyester fibers used on it must have been really itchy so I got you a new one—” your eyes widened at how your explanation could be taken the wrong way. “—not that her gift wasn’t great! No, it was very cute! It’s just—I want you to be comfortable and protected during your cases in cold states. Polyester is a good insulator of heat but wool is still the best.”

He loved how unabashed you rambled about your interests. That was one of the first things he piqued his notice. How you liked to share your knowledge about the fashion industry that you work for but never coming across as stuck up or snobby, you just genuinely wanted to educate anyone who had a wrong perception of the billion dollar commerce. Admittedly, he was one of them but hearing you rave about it’s nitty-gritty details and socio-economic movements changed his mind. It also helped that a beautiful and intelligent woman, such as yourself, was educating him.

He pulled you in for a kiss, stopping all the worries that ran through your head. “I love it. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing at all, baby. I like taking care of you. Just like how you take care of me,” you reasoned. “Plus I got it on sale courtesy of the magazine connections.”

A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. It was Penelope with an eyebrow raised at the subtle smile that graced his face while he replayed the moment in his head.

“Okay,” Morgan drawled. “What’s got you smiling, Pretty boy?”

“Nothing,” he squeaked out, turning to see Hotch make his way across the office. Spencer hurriedly collected his things and started to move even before their unit chief could call their attention.

“We have a case,” Hotch announced.

The remaining BAU members all looked at each other, silently communicating about Reid’s irregular demeanor, before piling into the conference room for another grueling scene of murder.

“He’s been acting weird,” Garcia rushed out. “Definitely hiding something. What do you think, Em?”

Emily nodded. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“A girl?” JJ guessed.

“Yes, must be a special one for him to keep secret for so long,” Garcia surmised. “Do you think he’ll hate it if I go further digging around to find out who she is?”

“Further?” Emily clarified.

JJ laughed. “Probably, let’s wait for him to volunteer the information. Okay, Garcia?”

She sighed, shoulders drooping, before nodding in agreement.

***

The third clue was quite literally handed to Penelope Garcia on the jet after a case when she accompanied the team.

“Cold Alaska is so not good for my skin,” she grumbled as she rummaged her bottomless bag for her favorite hand cream. “I love going with you all on trips rather than being stuck in my own tech cave but the weather wasn’t it.”

Morgan chuckled. “Aw c’mon baby girl, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy our time together?”

“You, my sculpted hunk, and the fireplace were the highlight,” Penelope turned to the other female profilers. “My beauties, do any of you have lotion? I think I lost mine.”

Before JJ or Emily could even utter a word, a tube made its way to her lap courtesy of her seat mate, Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Reid, since when do you carry lotion?” Emily inquired.

He shrugged. “Hand cream has it’s benefits besides from moisturizing the skin, it also provides an additional layer of protection. Depending on it’s properties, it can also repair and undo damage.”

The females all shared a look. This was another unexplainable behavior from their resident genius.

“We know that,” JJ stated. “We just thought you didn’t.”

His brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, besides from the fact that you’ve never shown interest about skincare before, isn’t it a stereotype for men not to know? Unless—” Emily slyly smiled and nodded at Garcia to continue.

“Unless you have a girlfriend that we don’t know about,” Garcia bounced on her seat.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Spencer’s eyes widened in alarm. He didn’t realize he was walking into a trap before it was too late. “What makes you say that?”

They laughed.

JJ started. “Besides from you suddenly being knowledgeable in fashion—“

“—or having a pricey sweater you’d never buy for yourself—” Emily added on.

“Or, or—“ Garcia reached out to touch his hand. Which made Spencer react with a high pitched call of her name. “—having a shea butter lotion with rough hands!” She waved the tube up in the air. “Plus, this is half empty. So either it’s not working which I doubt since this is a good brand or you keep this in your bag for a special someone to use!”

Derek chuckled. “Baby girl, you could be a profiler at this point.”

“Oh tell me something I don’t know,” she quipped back. “So Reid, want to tell us the truth?”

He sighed, finding no escape. “Yes, yes I have a girlfriend.”

The girls all shrieked with laughter and their own corresponding questions of who is she? How did you meet? How long has this been going on? What does she do for a living? Is she pretty? Oh I bet she is!

“Looks like that cat is out of the bag,” Rossi nonchalantly stated.

Four sets of eyes turned to look at one of the BAU founders. “Rossi, you knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Garcia gasped, a hand to her chest at the thought of betrayal.

He laughed. “I caught them on a dinner date once and our boy wonder over here—“ nodded in Reid’s direction. “—begged me not to out him yet, said he wanted to be the one to tell the team the news but that was like what, six months ago?”

“Six months ago?” Emily repeated.

“Wait, wait. Hotch, don’t tell me you also knew?” Morgan asked.

The unit chief smiled. “She was added to Reid’s emergency contact last February.”

“February? That’s almost a year ago!” JJ sputtered out.

The tech analyst turned to glare at the youngest member of the BAU. “Reid, you better start spilling all the details or so help me, I will stalk all your digital footprint when we land until I find out who she is, where she lives, and what her deepest darkest secret is.”

“What about hearing it all from her, instead?” He rubbed the back of his neck. The secrecy had gone on for so long and there was no time like the present to introduce his chosen family to his chosen partner—hopefully until the end of time. “She wants to treat you all out for dinner tonight.”

All four nodded vigorously as they watched him pull out his phone and send a quick text to which you readily replied and agreed to.

“My man,” Derek sighed. “Can’t believe you got a girlfriend without me being your wingman.”

“Answer me at least this, is she pretty and does she make you happy?” Garcia asked. No matter how nosey she may be, she only wanted the best for Spencer and if the recent lightness and smiles were all caused by his mystery girlfriend, she already approved.

“The prettiest,” Spencer gushed out. “She’s my own personal sunshine.”

The three girls melted into their seats. Their youngest was all grown up waxing prose over his lover.

“She makes you sappy too,” Derek teased.

***

[EXTRA - When the mystery was uncovered]

Spencer had never felt any more nervous that this moment as he, with the rest of the team minus Hotch and Rossi, wait for your arrival. He sat with his back to the restaurant entrance and his cardigan laying on the empty seat beside him as a reservation mark. His eyes had been going back and forth to his idle phone and to the conversation the team was having.

Morgan noted his state of distress and chuckled. “You okay there, lover boy? She’s still coming right, your mystery girlfriend?”

“Yeah, yeah. She said she was on her way 9 minutes and 24 seconds ago and based on the route and traffic, she should have been here 45 seconds earlier. Just worried that something might have happened.”

Penelope leaned in, picking on her bubblegum pink choice of drink as she did. “You know, if you just told me her name I could have tracked every movement by now and you wouldn’t be sitting here worrying.”

“What—no Garcia, I don’t want her tracked plus she didn’t want you to know everything about her even before meeting her,” his voice going up an octave in your defense.

She shrugged. “I’m just saying. I mean we don’t know a single thing about her—”

“We do know she exists and you’ve been together for almost a year now,” Emily interjected.

“Actually, it’s been more than year—one year and 124 days to be exact.”

“Buttercup, all I’m saying is we don’t even know how she looks—” Garcia gasped, having spotted a passerby on the window and what she was wearing. “Oh my gosh, that maroon coat is to die for and that textured leather bag—I wonder if I could track her down and ask where she got it.”

“Oh she’s pretty,” JJ noted.

Derek smirked. “Baby girl, tell me if you plan to ask her ‘cause I wouldn’t mind asking for her number.”

The tech analyst’s eyes further widened as she noted the attractive woman going inside the restaurant.

“You weren’t kidding about that coat, Garcia, it looks really nice,” JJ appraised.

Emily squinted her eyes, taking note of the garment in question. “It looks high quality, probably vintage and—is she going near us?”

“Oh gods, she is! Act natural, act natural!” Penelope chanted as she repeatedly slapped Derek’s arm.

The stranger stopped behind Spencer. “Hey handsome,” your melodic voice was a siren that called to his every being. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Penelope’s jaw dropped as she took in Derek’s flustered reaction.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, getting picked up in such a public setting was new even for him—the ladies man of the BAU.

You laughed. “Well, you too but I was more of talking to this lover of mine—“ you bent down, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek. “Hey, Spence.”

A series of gasps were heard all around the table.

The youngest stood up and turned to give you a soft kiss on the lips. “Hey, Y/N. I was starting to get worried.”

“I missed the train, sorry I forgot to send an update,” you explained as he helped you into your seat.

Promptly seating back down, he angled his body to yours—all attention on you as if you were the only one in the room. And in a way you were, with how molten his doe eyes stared, alternating between yours and your painted lips that begged to be kissed.

He always felt breathless when you were near. It was as if he found his very own Aphrodite to worship here on earth. Spencer was no believer of fates or destiny but he would pray and light a candle if he needed to, just to keep you his. Your intelligent mind complimenting his, your outgoing personality that draws anyone in, and your face that could launch a thousand ships.

Those eyes that could read the deepest crevices of his fiber of being. Those cheeks that begged to be caressed by his calloused hands. Those soft lips that deserved to be kissed and devoured until you, in turn, were as breathless as he was. He suddenly wished you both were anywhere else but here—specifically in the confines of the apartment where he was free to express his love, devotion, and adoration until you scream his name and beg him to stop. His hand, having found it’s way to your thigh, squeezed the flesh three times—communicating his promise to have your hair laid around you like a halo as you lay under him, bare and writhing with need.

The blonde on the other end of the table cleared her throat, cutting through the tension.

“Okay, Spence,” she smiled. “Mind introducing us to your girlfriend?”

He brought your hand to his lips, leaving a series of sweet kisses on your knuckle. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is the rest of the team. Morgan—“ he gestured to each one. “Emily, JJ, and Garcia.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you!” You exclaimed. “So sorry we’re only meeting now. We wanted to stay in our little bubble for as long as we could plus this handsome FBI agent—” you nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “—wanted to keep me to himself. But where’s Aaron and Dave?”

Emily whispered under her breath. “Aaron? Dave?”

“They had prior commitments, love. They did send their regards and Rossi wants to invite you to the next gathering at his mansion,” Spencer explained.

“Love?” Penelope squeaked out. This was really starting to feel like Twilight zone for the team members.

You nodded. “I’ll definitely plot it on my calendar. Now, I heard you had some questions for me?”

“How’d you two meet?” JJ asked.

“When was the first date?” Emily inquired.

Penelope brought out a pen and paper. “What’s you social security number?”

Derek snorted at that. “Do you have any other siblings?”

Spencer’s eyebrows raised further and further up with each question while your shoulders shook with laughter.

“She has all the time in the world to get to know each of you,” Spencer laid out. “No need to make it sound like an interrogation.” He was wishing to keep you forever, if you’d let him.

You smiled as you caressed his cheek, having caught on to the veiled meaning behind his words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[shy9-29]

In Too Deep | 이희승

이희승 x reader

“I don’t know when it stopped being fake… but I don’t think I can pretend anymore.” In a whirlwind of old grudges, fake dating, and unexpected feelings, two sworn enemies find themselves tangled in something that feels a little too real. And once the lines blur, there’s no going back.

genre: enemies to lovers, fake relationship, uni romance

📝 I honestly don’t know what I was thinking while writing this. This is an old ff because I’m stuck on a ff I’m writing on rn but hopefully you’ll like it.

wc. 6.1k · masterlist · rq open

It all started three years ago, the night of the infamous graduation party at Heeseung’s place.

The air had been thick with summer heat, cheap cologne, and the excitement of finally being free from high school. You hadn’t even wanted to go at first, but your friends had dragged you along, promising one last memory before everyone went their separate ways. And you did make a memory—just not the kind you ever wanted.

You drank too much. Way too much. Maybe it was the nerves, or maybe it was the way Heeseung kept flashing that smug smile, acting like the king of the party. You weren’t sure. But by the end of the night, you ended up throwing up in the middle of his parents’ living room. Right in front of everyone. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Jake—Heeseung’s best friend—caught it on video and thought it would be hilarious to post it online.

The video went viral in your town overnight. By morning, your name wasn’t just trending in group chats—it was practically a meme. You were humiliated, and Heeseung? He didn’t even bother taking the video down. In fact, he laughed about it. That was the moment you swore you’d hate him forever.

And so you did.

From the moment you stepped foot on campus, you ignored him. Avoided him. Exchanged icy glares when your paths crossed. You became the girl who bounced back, worked hard, and made a name for herself. And he remained the golden boy, cocky and untouchable.

For three years, you stayed in your own lanes. Until one day, out of nowhere, Heeseung looked you dead in the eye and asked, “Will you pretend to be my girlfriend?”

They were the prettiest pair on campus—and everyone knew it, even if they never stood side by side long enough for the full effect to settle in. The most talked-about students in the most elite university in Seoul. Separately, they turned heads. Together, they could’ve stopped traffic.

You had the kind of beauty that made people pause. Skin that seemed to glow under the sun, shiny hair that, just for today, you’d styled into soft waves. You wore light blue baggy jeans that cinched perfectly at your waist and a simple white summer short-sleeve top that gave off an effortlessly pretty vibe—like you hadn’t tried, but still looked perfect.

Heeseung, on the other hand, stood tall at 6’0, with fair skin and striking maroon hair that somehow looked both bold and natural on him. Today he was in a black zip-up hoodie over a white tee, paired with matching baggy blue jeans that made him look effortlessly cool—as usual. His vibe was more “couldn’t care less,” but the way people looked at him said otherwise.

It didn’t matter that the two of you hated each other. In fact, maybe that made it even more entertaining to watch. Beauty and tension had a way of making sparks fly—and everyone else could feel the fire, even if you both kept pretending there was none.

You blinked at him, thinking you’d heard wrong. “What?”

Heeseung leaned against the wall casually, arms crossed over his chest, like he hadn’t just said the most ridiculous thing you’d heard in your entire life. “Be my fake girlfriend.”

You stared at him. Then laughed. Out loud.

“Are you serious right now?” you scoffed, taking a step back like the words themselves were contagious. “Why would I ever do that?”

He didn’t flinch. Just looked at you with that same unreadable expression he always wore—somewhere between bored and amused. “Because you’re the only one who won’t actually fall for me.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Flattering,” you muttered sarcastically, turning to walk away. “Find someone else, Heeseung. I’m not interested in being part of whatever mess this is.”

But he caught your wrist gently, just enough to make you pause. “Wait. Just listen—”

You yanked your hand back. “I don’t owe you anything. Least of all after what happened three years ago.”

Heeseung’s jaw tensed. For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—something like guilt—but it disappeared too quickly to name.

“It’s fake,” he said quietly. “No feelings. Just for show. A few weeks, tops.”

You shook your head. “I’d rather kiss a cactus.”

And with that, you walked away, heart pounding harder than you wanted to admit.

You didn’t look back, even though you could feel his eyes on you the entire time you walked down the hallway. Your steps were firm, but your thoughts were anything but.

Be my fake girlfriend.

What kind of audacity did Heeseung even run on?

You tried to shake it off the rest of the day—distracted yourself with lectures, group chats, anything to stop thinking about the nerve he had. But his voice kept echoing in your head. The way he said it so casually, like it made perfect sense. Like you were the only logical option.

By the time your last class ended, the group chat with your friends was already blowing up.

Yuna: Girl. Tell me why Heeseung’s been walking around looking like someone just slapped him?

Jisoo: Wait wasn’t he talking to you earlier? What did he say??

You: Nothing. He’s insane. Pretend I never mentioned it.

Yuna: You didn’t mention it, but now you have to.

You sighed, not replying. The campus buzzed around you as you made your way across the quad, but you felt out of it—half stuck in the present, half stuck in that stupid party from three years ago.

Heeseung had humiliated you. Even if he didn’t film it himself, he let it spread. Never apologized. Never cared. And now he wanted you to play pretend in some weird PR stunt or whatever his problem was?

You walked past the library—and of course, he was there. Sitting on the steps. Waiting.

You froze.

He looked up from his phone, spotted you, and stood slowly, like he knew you wouldn’t run this time.

And maybe… maybe you wouldn’t. Not yet.

Heeseung was still the same old popular jerk.

Cocky smirk? Check. Effortless charm? Still there. Girls trailing behind him like he was the second coming of a K-drama lead? Absolutely. And you? You weren’t much different. You had your own crowd, your own reputation, and enough confidence to walk past him without sparing a second glance—most days, at least.

But today was different.

He was still standing on the library steps when you approached, like he had all the time in the world. His maroon hair caught the sunlight, and that familiar smug expression tugged at the corner of his mouth as soon as he saw you.

“You’re still thinking about it,” he said before you could even open your mouth.

You crossed your arms. “I came here to tell you no. Again.”

“Sure you did.” He grinned. “That’s why you didn’t block me after I asked. You’re curious.”

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t block you because I have better things to do. Like ignoring your existence.”

He chuckled softly, then rubbed the back of his neck—something surprisingly awkward for someone who was usually all confidence. “Look, I didn’t mean to ambush you. I just… didn’t know who else to ask.”

You raised a brow. “You’re Heeseung. You could literally point at someone and they’d say yes.”

He hesitated. “Yeah, well… that’s kind of the problem.”

You stared at him, waiting for the rest.

He sighed. “My parents. They’re coming to visit next month. And they’ve been on my ass about dating. ‘You’re getting older, when will you settle down?’” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “They think I’m some hopeless flirt who can’t take anything seriously.”

You blinked. “They’re not wrong.”

He gave you a look. “Not helping.”

You tilted your head. “So… your big plan is to trick them with a fake girlfriend? And you chose me? The girl who hates your guts?”

Heeseung shrugged. “Exactly. You’re the last person they’d think I’d date. Which makes it more believable. If I can ‘convince’ you to fall for me, maybe they’ll back off.”

You stared at him, lips parted in disbelief.

He just looked at you, calm and confident like always, and said, “So? You in, or do I need to bribe you with something?”

You squinted at him for a long moment, arms still crossed as you weighed the absurdity of the situation. Honestly, part of you wanted to walk away again. Tell him to shove his plan and leave you alone.

But then… an idea started forming. A devilish, slow-burning idea that made your lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile.

“Okay,” you said finally.

Heeseung’s brows lifted. “Okay?”

“I’ll do it.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Wait—seriously?”

You nodded. “But I want a bribe.”

He smirked, stepping forward slightly, voice dropping an octave. “What, you want free coffee every day? Access to my Netflix account? A kiss or two to make it look real—?”

You held up your hand to shut him up. “Relax, Casanova. Not even close.”

Now he looked confused. “Then what?”

You smiled sweetly—too sweetly. The kind of smile that meant trouble. “If I agree to be your fake girlfriend… I get to post something humiliating about you.”

Heeseung blinked. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me. Just one post. Could be a picture, a video, a story. Something that makes you the joke for once.”

His face twisted in disbelief, like the thought had never even crossed his mind. “You’re serious?”

“As a hangover on grad night,” you replied, your tone sugarcoated and smug. “You humiliated me three years ago. This levels the playing field.”

Heeseung ran a hand through his maroon hair, letting out a breathy laugh like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re insane.”

You grinned wider. “And you’re desperate.”

He stared at you for a second longer… then sighed and held out his hand. “Fine. Deal.”

You took it, shaking once.

The moment your hand left his, you felt it—that shift in the air. Like you had just signed up for something much more dangerous than a fake relationship.

Heeseung gave you a crooked grin, one brow raised. “You’re really going to post something embarrassing of me?”

You nodded, smug. “Absolutely. And it’s going to be good.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was something amused flickering behind his usual cocky front. “Fine. Just remember, you’re my girlfriend now. Even fake ones have reputations to protect.”

You smirked. “Please. I’ve survived worse than being seen with you.”

“You’re not wrong,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, we start tomorrow. My parents are in town for a charity dinner next week, so we have—what?—seven days to look madly in love.”

You blinked. “Wait—tomorrow?”

“What? Gotta build the illusion,” he said, already pulling out his phone. “We’re gonna need a story highlight, at least three posts together, and maybe a casual paparazzi shot. You know, something that screams we’re disgustingly happy.”

You stared at him. “You’re taking this way too seriously.”

He didn’t even look up as he started typing. “If I’m doing this, I’m doing it right.”

You suddenly remembered why you hated him in the first place—he was the kind of person who could make faking a relationship feel like prepping for war. And you were now officially enlisted.

“Fine,” you said. “But don’t forget our deal.”

He glanced up at you, that annoying spark of amusement back in his eyes. “Trust me. I won’t.”

You turned to leave, already planning your revenge post in your head—maybe that one photo of him from freshman year in the dorm hallway wearing a pink bunny headband and mismatched socks. Or that video from the campus talent show where his voice cracked mid high note.

Yeah. This was going to be fun.

The next morning, your phone buzzed before your alarm even had the chance to go off. You groaned, rolled over, and saw a notification:

Heeseung [6:38 AM]

Rise and shine, girlfriend. I’ll pick you up in 30. Wear something cute.

You stared at the message for a full five seconds, then typed back:

You [6:39 AM]

Die.

You threw the covers over your face, cursing yourself for ever agreeing to this. But a deal was a deal, and if playing his girlfriend meant finally serving him a slice of his own humiliation, you’d survive.

Barely.

By 7:15, you were waiting outside your building, hair tied up in a lazy ponytail, a cropped hoodie over a black tank, and fitted cargo pants—cute enough, in your opinion. When Heeseung pulled up, he had one hand on the wheel and a smug grin already locked and loaded.

“You clean up nice,” he said, leaning over to push the passenger door open.

You got in without looking at him. “You said ‘fake girlfriend.’ You didn’t say anything about being a morning person.”

He laughed as he pulled away from the curb. “We’re going on a coffee date. Gotta give the people something to talk about.”

“People? What people?” you frowned.

He just held up his phone.

And of course—his Instagram story was already up:

A boomerang of two coffees in a to-go tray with the caption:

“Coffee date with my girl.”

Heart emoji and all.

You stared at it in horror. “You tagged me?!”

He grinned. “Well yeah. Gotta make it official.”

You snatched his phone. “Delete it.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Too late. Already got 23 DMs asking if hell froze over.”

You groaned, sinking lower into the seat. “You’re the worst.”

“No,” he said, shooting you a quick side glance, “I’m the boyfriend.”

You looked at him, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. This was going to be exhausting. But strangely… it was already kind of entertaining.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But I’m getting my revenge post by the end of the week.”

He smirked. “Can’t wait to see what you dig up.”

You already had three folders.

Let the games begin.

The next few days flew by in a blur of fake smiles, staged moments, and way too many coffee dates. Every time you tried to go somewhere on your own, Heeseung would be there—casually showing up like he had nothing better to do. And each time, he’d pull out his phone and take a picture or video, making it look like the two of you were the perfect couple.

You hated it. But part of you had to admit, you were starting to get into it—just not for the reasons he thought. The more time you spent with him, the more you realized how easy it was to annoy him. How easy it was to mess with his perfectly curated world. And that was exactly what you intended to do.

On the fourth day, you had your first official “couple picture” together. The location? A park in the middle of campus, where everyone could see. You wore a cute dress, a bit too much effort for your usual taste, but Heeseung insisted it was “important for the vibe.” He, of course, looked effortlessly cool in a graphic tee and his usual baggy jeans. You both stood side by side, his arm casually slung over your shoulders, looking casually in love. But in reality, you could barely suppress your smirk as you snapped the photo for his Instagram.

He posted it immediately with the caption:

“Mines Only”

You took the opportunity to really ruin it.

That night, after he had sent you his “thank you for the cute post” text, you sent him one back. You didn’t mention the post. You didn’t mention anything. Instead, you simply sent a photo from the same park—an unflattering, grainy shot of him mid-laugh, where he looked like he was choking on a piece of gum.

The caption?

“When he tells you he’s ‘not like other guys’… but then you see this.”

You held your breath as you waited for his response.

Seconds later, your phone buzzed.

Heeseung [11:02 PM]: Are you serious?

You smirked, typing back:

You [11:02 PM]: I said I was getting my revenge post by the end of the week. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it cute next time (maybe)

He didn’t reply immediately, but you could practically feel his annoyance radiating through the phone. That was the beauty of being his “girlfriend”—you could make him squirm without ever touching a thing that mattered to him.

You hadn’t thought much of it when you posted the photo. It was meant to be harmless payback—just a little jab to keep Heeseung on his toes. You figured people would laugh, maybe tease him for a day or two, and that would be it.

But when you stepped onto campus the next morning, something was… off.

People were staring. Whispering. Smiling.

A girl from your communications class stopped you in the hallway with a dreamy sigh. “That post you made last night… oh my God, you two are literally goals.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

She giggled. “It’s just so real, you know? Everyone’s always posting those perfect, filtered couple pictures, but yours was like—raw, and genuine. You didn’t try to make him look perfect, and that somehow made it even cuter.”

You stared at her in disbelief, only managing a nod before she walked off. Then it happened again. And again. People you barely knew were suddenly giving you heart eyes, acting like you and Heeseung were some kind of rom-com come to life.

By the time you reached the student lounge, two professors had walked past whispering, “Did you see that post? The one with Heeseung and yn? It’s adorable!”

You nearly choked.

And of course, right in the center of the attention storm was Heeseung, sitting back in a chair with one leg crossed over the other, sipping on an iced americano like he hadn’t just been unintentionally turned into everyone’s favorite golden retriever boyfriend.

You stormed up to him. “What the hell is happening?”

He grinned, tilting his head. “You mean the part where we accidentally became the most talked-about couple on campus?”

“Yes! Why are people acting like I posted a love letter instead of blackmail?”

He laughed. Actually laughed. “Because you did it wrong.”

“I made you look like you were choking.”

“Exactly,” he said, standing and slinging an arm over your shoulder like it was second nature. “People love that stuff. It makes us look real. Like we’re actually in love and don’t care how we look. It’s disgusting. They’re eating it up.”

You groaned, trying to shake him off, but his grip stayed firm. “This was not the plan.”

“Well,” he said, shrugging, “you made me look human. And apparently, the school’s obsessed with the idea of Lee Heeseung being whipped.”

You scowled. “You are not whipped.”

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear. “But maybe I’ll start pretending to be. Just to sell it.”

Your breath caught for half a second, which only made his smirk grow.

The worst part? You couldn’t tell if he was still playing the game… or if he was starting to enjoy it.

“I am good at this,” he replied without missing a beat. “Have you seen the comments? People are begging for wedding invites.”

You scoffed. “Gross. Delusional.”

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the post, reading aloud dramatically, “‘If this isn’t love, I don’t want it. OMG the way he looks at her!! UGH, my standards are ruined.’” He looked up with a smug grin. “You ruined them, Y/N. Feel powerful?”

You snatched his phone and scrolled for yourself—and yep, the comments were out of control.

@robertwu: Wait why is this the cutest couple content I’ve seen all year??

@ksy.97: Y/N posting that photo like a tired girlfriend who loves her dumb man. I’m crying.

@x_we1: Heeseung in love??? This era is feeding us well.

You blinked. “They really think this is real?”

Heeseung leaned casually against the wall beside you, watching your reaction with that annoyingly entertained expression. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is,” you snapped. “This was supposed to be harmless. A joke. A fake relationship. And now people are shipping us like we’re some webtoon couple with a tragic backstory and a soft boy redemption arc.”

He grinned. “You’ve been reading fan comments, haven’t you?”

You opened your mouth to argue, then shut it with a glare.

“I told you,” he said, nudging your arm with his elbow, “people love mess. And this is their favorite kind—the hot, mysterious enemies-to-lovers storyline.”

You nearly choked. “Lovers?! Calm down, Romeo.”

He just laughed, brushing past you to head down the hall. “Come on, fake girlfriend. You’re walking me to class. Public display of affection and all that.”

You stood there for a second, mentally screaming, before dragging your feet to follow him. This whole thing was spiraling out of control. What started as a stupid plan for revenge had turned into a campus-wide fantasy.

But the worst part?

For the first time since that party three years ago…

You weren’t entirely sure you hated being seen with him.

One week later.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, still not believing what you were about to do.

Charity dinner. With his parents.

In heels, a satin slip dress, a necklace Heeseung had casually handed you earlier that morning with a smug, “It’ll make you look expensive.” You’d thrown a pillow at his head for that, but you wore it anyway.

You were supposed to hate him. Still did—technically. But somehow, between the fake Instagram posts, the morning texts, the way he always had an iced latte waiting for you before your 9 a.m. class, and the fact that he now walked you to said class like a real boyfriend… something had shifted.

You didn’t want to think too hard about it.

When you walked out to the front of your building, Heeseung was already waiting by the car, wearing a sleek black suit and the same damn smirk that made your blood boil and your stomach twist at the same time.

He turned when he heard your footsteps—and for once, he didn’t say anything stupid. He just stared.

“You’re staring,” you said flatly.

“You’re hot,” he replied just as flatly. “Don’t make it weird.”

You gave him a glare, but you couldn’t fight the heat rising in your cheeks as he opened the car door for you.

The car ride was quieter than usual—no teasing, no arguing. Just your phone buzzing with new notifications from people commenting on the photo he’d posted twenty minutes ago.

You and Heeseung in front of the car, your hand on his chest, his chin tilted toward you like he was about to kiss you. It wasn’t even a real moment—you’d taken it as a joke—but he posted it anyway.

“Dinner with the girl who’s ruining my peace and I kinda like it.”

Captioned, of course, with a heart and a black tie emoji.

By the time you arrived at the venue, half the university had already liked the post.

Heeseung leaned in close as you both stepped out. “Ready to meet the people who think I’m still twelve and incapable of monogamy?”

You sighed. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He paused. “Hey.”

You looked up.

He smiled—no smirk this time, just something softer, something that felt… real. “Thanks for doing this.”

You opened your mouth to say something sarcastic—anything—but the words didn’t come.

Because somewhere in the mess of fake posts and planned appearances…

This started feeling less like a lie.

The moment you stepped into the ballroom, arm looped through Heeseung’s, all eyes turned toward you.

You looked around, trying to keep your expression neutral—poised, even. But your heart was doing backflips. This wasn’t some cute café date or a casual run-in on campus. This was a high-end, wine-glass-clinking, string-quartet-playing charity gala… filled with Seoul’s elite. People in suits and gowns. His parents. His actual parents.

“You good?” Heeseung whispered beside you, leaning in slightly, his breath brushing your ear.

You gave him a sharp look. “No. But I’ll survive.”

He smiled. “You’ll do great. Just stay close to me.”

You wanted to snap back with something sassy—maybe “Don’t flatter yourself”—but instead, you nodded. Because truthfully, his steady presence next to you was the only thing keeping your nerves from boiling over.

As you walked through the room, people began coming up to greet him.

“Lee Heeseung! You’ve grown so much. And who’s this lovely young lady?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “My girlfriend, Y/N.”

You felt his fingers gently squeeze yours.

Each time someone approached, he’d introduce you with the same ease, that same little tilt of pride in his voice. And each time, you’d smile, nod, say something polite—like this wasn’t the strangest, most out-of-body experience of your life.

And then came the real challenge.

His parents.

His mother spotted you from across the room first—elegant, graceful, and dressed in a deep navy gown that screamed old money. His father stood beside her, equally intimidating in a crisp tailored suit.

“Oh,” she said with a warm but curious smile as you and Heeseung approached. “So you’re the girl he’s been refusing to shut up about.”

You blinked. “He… what?”

“Mooom,” Heeseung groaned quietly under his breath.

But it was too late.

His mom took your hands and gave you a smile so genuine, it caught you off guard. “Heeseung’s never brought anyone to an event like this before. We were starting to think he’d sworn off love.”

You glanced up at him, expecting his usual cocky comeback, but he was quiet—just watching you with something unreadable in his eyes.

“Thank you for coming,” his father added with a respectful nod. “It’s good to see him with someone who balances him out.”

You swallowed, managing a smile. “It’s… it’s been nice. Unexpected. But nice.”

The conversation shifted as a server passed with champagne, and the moment loosened. Still, you could feel Heeseung watching you—closely, carefully.

Later, as you stood near one of the windows overlooking the city lights, he stepped beside you again, slipping his hand back into yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re killing it,” he said softly.

You looked at him. “You didn’t tell me your parents were actually nice.”

He chuckled. “You looked like you were expecting to be interrogated.”

“I was.”

He shifted to face you, his expression unreadable again. “But you still came.”

You shrugged. “A deal’s a deal.”

“Right,” he said, but his voice was quieter this time. “A deal.”

There was a beat of silence—just the distant music and low voices in the background. Then, before you could overthink it, Heeseung leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

You froze.

And not because of the cameras. Not because of the act.

But because it felt… real.

And when you turned to look at him—really look—you realized he wasn’t acting either.

And more like the beginning of something you didn’t know how to fake anymore.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, frozen, staring up at him. Because in that moment—after the temple kiss, after his hand had instinctively tightened around yours, after that soft, unreadable look in his eyes—you knew something had shifted.

This wasn’t for show anymore.

And from the way Heeseung was looking at you, he knew it too.

But neither of you said a word.

Not yet.

You turned your eyes back to the window, heart thudding in your chest as you tried to will the warmth off your cheeks. Heeseung stayed beside you, unusually quiet. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something more careful, more sincere. And it scared you a little, how easy it was to stand next to him like this—like the two of you weren’t faking it. Like this was just… normal.

And maybe that was the most dangerous part of all.

“Wanna get out of here?” he said after a while, voice low, almost hesitant.

You blinked, surprised. “Now?”

He nodded. “We showed face. You survived my parents. I don’t think I can listen to another speech about tax reform and philanthropy.”

You exhaled a quiet laugh, nodding. “Let’s go.”

Within ten minutes, you were both in his car again, but this time there was no music playing. Just the sound of the engine humming softly and the occasional flicker of headlights outside. It wasn’t awkward—it was… heavy. Like the air between you was packed with all the things neither of you knew how to say yet.

Heeseung pulled into a quiet overlook on the edge of the city. The view was unreal—Seoul lit up in gold and silver, buildings stretching into the clouds like stars had landed on earth.

Neither of you moved to get out. Instead, you sat there for a second. Breathing.

Then, finally, he broke the silence.

“I was supposed to hate you, you know.”

You glanced over.

“That night at the party… after Jake posted that video… I was pissed at you for months. Not because you threw up. But because I saw how fast people turned on you. And I hated how much I cared.”

Your breath hitched.

He wasn’t smiling.

He wasn’t smirking.

He was just honest.

“I didn’t want to care about the girl who glared at me in the halls every day. But I did,” he said. “And then this whole fake thing happened, and somewhere between faking it and fighting you, I stopped pretending I wasn’t completely—”

“Don’t say it,” you cut in quickly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes searched yours. “Why?”

“Because if you say it…” You swallowed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to keep pretending either.”

He was quiet for a second. Then he reached over slowly, gently, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered on your cheek for just a second too long.

And then he whispered—

“I stopped pretending a long time ago.”

And for the first time since that deal was made…

You weren’t sure if this was fake anymore.

And maybe—just maybe—you didn’t want it to be.

The words hung there in the silence between you—“I stopped pretending a long time ago.”

And you didn’t know what scared you more.

The fact that he said it…

Or the fact that you believed him.

Your heart was thudding so loudly you swore it echoed inside the car. You didn’t respond right away. Couldn’t. Because all this time, you thought you had the upper hand—you had the control, the blackmail, the motive. It was just a game. A mess of fake smiles and photo ops and revenge.

But the way Heeseung was looking at you now—like he wasn’t seeing the version of you everyone else did, like he was seeing you—made you realize you’d lost the second you agreed to that stupid fake relationship.

And worse?

You didn’t even care.

You finally tore your eyes away, staring down at your lap. “You’re not supposed to say things like that.”

“Why not?” he said softly. “It’s not like you’re still pretending either.”

You looked at him then—really looked. His expression was still gentle, still open, but there was something vulnerable in his eyes now, something rare. Something that almost made your chest ache.

You exhaled. “I hate you so much.”

He smiled faintly. “You’re still allowed to. Just… maybe not tonight.”

You gave a small laugh, shaking your head. “God, you’re so annoying.”

“Yeah, but you’re choosing to be here.”

That shut you up.

Because he was right.

You didn’t have to say yes to that dinner. You didn’t have to stand beside him when his mom looked at you like you were the girl who’d changed her son. You didn’t have to come here, to this overlook, to this stupid city view.

But you did.

And somewhere between all the faking and fronting… this had turned into something else.

“I don’t know what this is,” you said quietly, fingers twisting in your lap. “But if you’re not pretending anymore… I don’t want to be either.”

You didn’t look up right away—but you felt the shift. The tension softening. The energy between you changing, quietly but completely.

Heeseung didn’t say anything this time.

He just leaned in slowly, eyes flicking down to your lips, like he was asking a question without speaking.

And you didn’t stop him.

Because when his lips finally met yours, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t fireworks or chaos or something wild and dramatic.

It was soft.

Warm.

Real.

And it felt a hell of a lot better than revenge ever did.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, his forehead rested gently against yours, and for the first time since all this started, there was nothing left to fake.

Just you.

And him.

And whatever this was turning into.

Heeseung pulled back just slightly, his forehead still resting against yours, his eyes flicking down to your lips again like he hadn’t quite gotten enough.

And then, with that same cocky little grin he always wore when he was up to no good, he murmured,

“So… do you wanna make out?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Come on,” he said, voice low, teasing. “Don’t act surprised. You kissed me first.”

“You literally kissed me,” you said, half-laughing, half-scolding.

He shrugged, still wearing that stupid, infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Doesn’t change the fact you kissed me back.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks heating. “This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” he leaned in again, barely a breath between you now. “Because I’ve been dying to do that again, and I’m thinking the front seat isn’t cutting it.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you seriously trying to seduce me in your car right now?”

Heeseung leaned closer, voice barely above a whisper. “Depends. Is it working?”

And yeah, it was. You hated how easily he got under your skin—how that smooth voice, those eyes, that look he gave you made your heart beat like you were seventeen again and still drunk off one dumb party night.

“…You’re the worst,” you muttered.

He smiled. “So that’s a yes?”

You didn’t answer him. You just reached for the door handle, opened it, and slid out without a word—walking around to the back.

Heeseung froze for a second, blinking in disbelief, before a low, amazed laugh escaped his lips. “No way.”

You turned your head, giving him the same smug look he always gave you. “Well? Are you coming or not?”

He was already moving before you finished the sentence.

And when the two of you climbed into the backseat, the space suddenly felt way too small. Too warm. Too charged.

You barely got the door closed before his hands were on your waist, pulling you in like this was something he’d been holding back for a long time.

And for the next little while, the only thing that mattered…

Was the fact that none of this felt fake anymore.

The windows had fogged up within minutes.

You were straddling Heeseung in the cramped backseat, his top bunched up around your fists, your lips tangled with his like the past three years of tension had finally snapped.

Every shove, every glare, every petty comment—this was what it all had been building to. Not the revenge. Not the fake posts. This.

His hands were on your waist, fingers pressing into the curve of your hips like he couldn’t believe you were real, like if he let go, you’d disappear. And you hated how good it felt. How good he felt.

“Still hate me?” he mumbled against your mouth, breath warm and teasing.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, both of you breathing hard, lips swollen, eyes locked.

“Undecided,” you said, but your voice was softer than it should’ve been.

He grinned, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You’re really bad at fake-dating.”

You leaned in again, this time slower, letting your lips hover just over his. “Good thing this doesn’t feel fake anymore.”

That wiped the smirk off his face. Just for a second. Then his expression shifted—eyes darker, more serious.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, like your name alone could ground him.

And it kind of did.

You looked at him, chest rising and falling, and for the first time since this whole thing started, you let your guard down completely. No sass. No comebacks. Just truth.

“I don’t know when it stopped being fake,” you whispered. “But I don’t think I can pretend anymore.”

He didn’t say anything.

He just pulled you in again—slower this time, deeper. And when he kissed you now, it wasn’t just to tease or shut you up or win a fake game.

It was a promise.

And in the backseat of a car, windows fogged and hearts exposed, that kiss changed everything.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Hey. Hi. Hello. Today I learned about the existence of 15th century Welsh poet Gwerful Mechain and that she apparently has a surviving work of erotic poems.

Please. For Christmas. For Yule. Please tell me more because I can't read Welsh.

Heh heh. Oh, Gwerful Mechain is the absolute best.

(Quick housekeeping to keep the post manageable - I previously wrote about things like cynghanedd and cywydds and englyns and such here, so check that if you need an explanation.)

What's fun is that we don't know a ton about her, because not a lot got written down about people in her time. Her surviving work covers a 40ish year span at the end of the 1400s to just into the 1500s, but we don't know when she was born or died or anything like that. We know her parents' names? And that she was from Mechain, hence the bardic name. And that she married a guy and had a daughter, something which actually does mark out her body of work as different from her contemporaries; being a wife and mother, she couldn't do the usual bardic role of travelling the country to spread news and play at courts. This means she doesn't have any of the praise poetry that a lot of male bards produced about the lords that hosted them.

But, there's stuff we can piece together about her. For one thing, she was not just literate (not a universal skill for anyone at that point, but especially for women), but she was astonishingly well-read and had what appears to be a classical education, given her poetic references and traditional Welsh meters. For another, her work often had recurring themes of religion, sex, and women's rights, sometimes all at the same time.

At the point Gwerful was active, Welsh bardic culture heavily featured ymrysonau. An ymryson is like... well, I hesitate to say "sort of like a rap battle" after the way everyone and their dog now thinks that's what the Mari Lwyd does, but they were like a cross between a rap battle and the publication war between two rival academics. A bard would write an englyn and publish it in the local parish newsletter. Another bard would see this, and write their own englyn about how stupid the first bard's englyn was, and publish it in the same newsletter. The first bard would see this and retaliate. The second bard would retaliate to that. And on and on it would go, like a printed tennis match for all the parishioners to enjoy, until someone wrote a conclusive verse OR until someone went "Lol, you got me good there" and bowed out with dignity. Sometimes, these things were fucking vicious; but other times, they were just banter between two bards who knew each other and were enjoying the chance to keep their poetic skills in tip top condition.

Now, Gwerful was an active and enthusiastic participant in ymrysonau. We have many examples of her work from these. There are two of particular note that I'll list here, each against a different bard:

Dafydd Llwyd o Fathafarn. Mathafarn and Mechain are not so distant from one another, so no real surprise that these two locked horns a lot, but the impression I always got from their ymrysonau is that they were good mates, actually. These fell into the 'banter' category more often than not. Dafydd was a Welsh Nationalist who was hoping for a Welshman to rise up and throw off the yoke of English oppression, and most of his work is about that, but he turned up the filthy erotic shit for any ymryson with Gwerful because BOY HOWDY was that her specialty. IIRC she did occasionally poke fun at his Welsh Nash leanings, especially his obsession with Mab Darogan (OLD Welsh idea that translates to the Son of Prophesy - the Arthur-style figure that will one day drive out the English overlords), but mostly their ymrysonau were incredibly beautifully-written odes that could be summed up as "Dafydd, my man, my good friend, I mean this sincerely: suck my entire clit".

She often won.

Ieuan Dyfi. God, what a fucking asshole. This one was not banter. Gwerful played for blood with this prick.

We actually would know nothing about Ieuan Dyfi if not for Gwerful Mechain, because it was her poetic response to him that meant his only surviving poems made it to the modern day; that, and the record of him being brought before a church court where he admitted adultery with Anni Goch, a married woman. Oh, and the record of him being brought before the law courts at Liverpool, accused of domestic abuse and gambling? If I remember right?

Two things to know that set the scene for what came next:

One of Gwerful Mechain's surviving poems is an englyn considered to be possibly the oldest extant poem about domestic violence written by a woman: I’w gŵr am ei churo (To the husband who beats her)

Dager drwy goler dy galon - ar osgo I asgwrn dy ddwyfron; Dy lin a dyr, dy law’n don, A’th gleddau i’th goluddion.

There are a lot of translations for this one to try to keep its poeticness, but this one is pretty good:

Through your heart’s lining let there be pressed, slanting down, A dagger to the bone in your chest. Your knee smashed, your hand crushed, may the rest Be gutted by the sword you possessed.

She has others, too, that deal with sexual assault, and something scholars often note about Gwerful is her remarkable knowledge of the law as it pertained to women's issues. So she was not, you see, a woman with a high view of a man accused of domestic violence anyway.

But then Ieuan Dyfi wrote five poems about Anni Goch, the married woman he'd fucked, each more "Wow dude, she said no" than the last, culminating in I Anni Goch; a full cywydd of misogynistic Medieval-incel bullshit about how false and evil women are, which listed all the false and evil women of history including classical and mythological figures.

And. Well. Gwerful had some views.

Her responding cywydd - I ateb Ieuan Dyfi am gywydd Anni Goch - basically blasted the guy back into his own impact crater and disintegrated him. What she did with it, essentially, was to mirror his cywydd. Where he'd gone "Isn't it so true how great men throughout history have always been brought low by women, amirite lads? Here's examples", Gwerful went "Isn't it so true how 'great men' throughout history have behaved appallingly and fucked up through their own actions and then somehow managed to blame women, amirite lads? Here's examples." Where his examples had been historical figures, so were hers. Where his had been classical, so were hers. Where he went Biblical, so did she.

And what's so interesting about that last one is how pointed she was with it - for some reason, in his big list of evil women, Ieuan Dyfi did not go for the most obvious and low-hanging of fruit (no pun intended) - he doesn't cite Eve. In response, Gwerful also sidesteps the most obvious and low hanging of fruit - she doesn't cite Mary. In so doing, she makes it clear that she doesn't even need to.

There is no record of him responding to her. IIRC, there is a record of him doing three years in prison.

But! Outside of all of that, the big thing Gwerful was known for was her erotic poetry. You'll be unsurprised to hear that it wasn't written for shits and giggles - much like today, women of the time were told that most of their value was in their looks, and they had plentiful insecurities about their bodies. Gwerful wrote her erotic stuff to confront those insecurities and shine a light on the issue. There are so many examples of this, but far and away the most famous is definitely Cywydd y Cedor - roughly translated, 'Ode to the Vulva'. Though I have also seen it titled Cywydd y Gont - Ode to the Cunt. It's such a shame that the English language is literally, physically not capable of cynghanedd, because it means unless you learn Welsh you will never understand the beauty and the lyricism of the piece, and how it elevates and undercuts the content at the same time; but it's a joyful, masterful, irreverent work that uses the fancy language male poets were forever dedicating to the rest of a woman's body and applies it squarely to the vulva. In fact it basically opens with "Men are cowards, describe more cunts or gtfo" before launching into its main subject matter. The last line is pro-pubic hair, too, like I really must stress how much Gwerful Mechain would have to offer Tumblr if you could speak Welsh. This is probably her most widely translated piece, though, you can definitely find English versions. Although you can tell how blushing and reticent the translator is - and therefore how sanitised their translation is - by whether they've called it Ode to the Vulva/Cunt, or Ode to the Pubic Hair.

Needless to say, the original is not sanitised.

(Actually, I should also say - this one is also a response piece, probably, but in this case to a bard who lived a century earlier - Dafydd ap Gwilym, the absolutely legendary and uncontested king of Welsh romance poetry. He wrote a poem called Cywydd y Gal - Ode to the Penis. I have only just put two and two together on that.)

As a final note, I should say that my personal favourite Gwerful Mechain poem on this subject, mind, is actually I'w morwyn wrth gachu - to the maiden who is shitting. It's an englyn written in Gwerful's customary high poetic form, but it is what it says - it describes a woman taking a shit, and farting as she does. Beautiful and magical and disgusting and banal, all in one go:

Crwciodd lle dihangodd ei dŵr - ’n grychiast O grochan ei llawdwr; Ei deudwll oedd yn dadwr’, Baw a ddaeth, a bwa o ddŵr

Funnily enough, it's hard to find a good translation for this one lol.

My attempt:

She crouched where her water escaped - creased From the cauldron of her heat; Her two holes were arguing, Shit came, and a bow of water

Eh. It's so bland in English. Honestly, if you could read Welsh...

Anyway, if anyone reading this can read Welsh and wants to read some of Gwerful Mechain's stuff - including some of the pieces she was responding to in the ymrysonau - you can find a load here. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed!

[idiopathicsmile]

you know what really grinds my gears?

okay, bear with me: so as you may know, harry houdini and arthur conan doyle were friends, at least for a while.

by the early 1920s, both arthur conan doyle and acd's wife jean, aka lady doyle, believed whole-heartedly in spiritualism, talking to ghosts and all of that. (sidenote: this was of course right on the heels of a devastating world war and a devastating pandemic, both of which had created a huge population of grieving people, so spiritualism was having a moment.)

lady doyle sincerely thought she had the ability to go into a trance state and pass along messages in writing from the dead. she offered to do this for houdini. houdini agreed.

lady doyle attempted to channel houdini's late mother. she basically drew a cross at the top of the paper and filled it with generic platitudes addressed to "harry." houdini's mom was jewish and didn't talk like that, so houdini knew the jig was up, even if lady doyle didn't. but not wanting to make the situation awkward, he kind of went along with it to their faces.

then acd decided to publish a glowing account of the seance, and since both he and houdini were super famous, it got a lot of attention, and letters started pouring in for houdini, asking if this was true. ultimately, houdini couldn't lie about it. so he essentially said, like, "yeah, i think lady doyle THINKS she can talk to ghosts but she absolutely can't." and it ruined his friendship with acd forever.

and then of course a lot of the people running seances weren't even well-intentioned like lady doyle, they were just simple charlatans taking advantage of traumatized people mourning loved ones. in houdini's youth, he and his wife had traveled the carnival circuit where he did an act pretending to commune with spirits, so he knew all the tricks of the trade AND he had lingering guilt over having done this, AND he was infuriated by this increasingly popular wave of con artists so he decided to assemble a team of anti-grifting grifters and together they went on the road exposing whichever spiritualists were preying on the locals.

houdini's best agent was a young woman named rose mackenberg, who donned disguises to visit the fraud de jour and then importantly sussed out what non-supernatural thing was actually happening, and then houdini would demonstrate the techniques onstage to packed audiences.

(if you want to know more, check out episode 175, "ghost racket crusade" of the podcast Criminal or read Tony Wolf's book The Real-Life Ghostbusting Adventures of Rose Mackenberg.)

but yeah, what really gets my goat is that all this happened and as far as i know, we still don't have like four seasons of a Leverage-style historical procedural about rose mackenberg and the rest of the crew having adventures in the 1920s as they unmask craven hucksters all over the united states. (what we do have, apparently, is one season of a show called "houdini and doyle" which is about the oddball friendship of two contrasting men solving sometimes-actually-supernatural mysteries, and whose premise does i think at the very least a real disservice to houdini's whole quest and also totally erases rose, who is arguably the most interesting part of this story to me.)

i am just steamed about this. steamed.

[bbyg4rl]

i'm your JJ ✧

cw: JJ x Kie's sister!reader, fluff, slight allusion to sex, happy ending !

summary: JJ cant avoid his feelings for his friend's sister anymore. inspired by this request.

a/n: this lowkey so cute thanks i started kicking my legs while writing LMAO hope this is what u expected anon <3

You were just grabbing a glass of juice and making your way back to your room when your sister, Kie, stormed into your room behind you.

"I'm having JJ over tonight. Don't come out of your room."

"It's my house too. I'll come out if I want to" you shot back.

"Just don't, okay? you're annoying enough as it is" she replied, rolling her eyes as she walked out.

time jump

you buried yourself in your pillows trying your best to drown out the sound of the movie playing downstairs. you could faintly hear your sister make excuses to JJ about why you weren't hanging out with them, claiming you "weren't feeling well". The lie made you want to storm down and snap at her, but every time you reached for the door handle, Kie's words struck you like an alarm clock, the words froze you for a reason you couldn't quite discern and sent you back to your bed where you resumed trying to muffle the sounds of the tv.

suddenly, there was a knock at your bedroom door, you half-expected Kie to be on the other side, ready to take more shots at you but you were surprised to see JJ, he softly opened the door, searching for your face in the messy room. As soon as he spotted you, he rushed over and sat on your bedside, his hands gently reaching for your face.

"Hey, mama. how you feelin'?"

"Shouldn't you be downstairs with Kie?" you replied sarcastically.

"Don't answer my question with another question y/n. besides, your sister can handle herself for a little while. I'm here to check up on you, babycakes" he said, smiling at you as his hands combed through your hair.

You couldn’t help but smile at the nickname. "Thanks for checking up on me, JJ, but I’m fine. I just wanted to stay in my room today" you replied softly.

You didn't quite understand why you were covering for Kie. Maybe a little part of you felt guilty for feeling what you felt for JJ, especially since you knew Kie had a thing for him. She made it painfully clear, dropping hint after hint, but somehow, JJ seemed oblivious. His attention never strayed toward her. His eyes were always on you, never missing an opportunity to admire you, darting to you every time a joke left his lips.

Your train of thought was interrupted by JJ's calloused hand stroking your cheek.

"You're not really a 'stay in' kind of a person, mama. Tell me what's wrong, you know you can tell me anything. I'm your JJ"

You shot him a wry smile, "You're cute, JJ"

"You're just stating the obvious, baby" he quipped, flashing one of those smirks that always made your stomach flip.

"Why do you even wanna know what's wrong? You want me or something?" you teased.

"You have no idea how much I want you" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" Your eyes widened. Did he just say he wants you?

"Just come on down, babycakes" he said, cutting off any chance for a reply as he slipped his hands under you, lifting you bridal style. Before you knew it, he was carrying you downstairs.

You felt Kie's eyes boring holes into your back as JJ placed you on the couch beside Kie, pulling a blanket over you and settling in beside you. Your heart raced, waiting for an outburst to tear its way through your sister, knowing how much this must be killing her.

The three of you quietly settled in to watch the movie. That is, until you noticed JJ’s hand slowly inching closer to yours, eventually resting on top of it, his thumb occasionally swiping across the back of your hand.

As the movie went on, your mind wandered, You couldn’t help but notice how close JJ really was to you, his hand on top of yours, his knee brushing yours, his shark tooth necklace rising up and down on his chest with every breath he took.

An idea popped into your head, The movie wasn’t all that interesting anyway, it wouldn't hurt to spice it up now, would it?

you slipped your hand from under his and scooted closer, thigh pressing against as his. His breath hitched as you adjusted your blanket to cover his legs before resting your hand on his thigh, dangerously close to the growing tent in his shorts.

"Y/n" he whispered, voice strained, not daring to look at you.

"Hm?" you responded feigning innocence, as you moved your hand higher before abruptly pulling it away and standing up.

"I'm gonna get more popcorn" you declared, only then noticing that Kie had fallen asleep in her spot.

Grinning to yourself, you made your way to the kitchen, thoughts of JJ swirling in your mind. You were rummaging through the cabinets when you heard JJ’s heavy breathing behind you.

"What was that, Y/n"

"What was what?"

"You know what I'm talkin' about, mama." he growled, his tone low and agitated as his hand snaked around your waist pulling you into him.

"Don't do that again " he murmured, pressing a small kiss to your hair before walking back to the living room.

Your face flushed as you stood there, stunned. The difference between the JJ who had come to your room earlier and the man that had just pulled your ass into him excited you. He wasn't usually this bold with you, but lately his resolve seemed to be breaking and his control was faltering, his obsession with you becoming harder for him to hide. Not that it was ever really hidden.

Finally, you found the popcorn and returned to the living room. The rest of the night passed in relative silence, with only quiet glances exchanged between you and JJ.

When it was time for him to leave, he shot you a smirk and gave Kie a quick side hug before heading out the door. You made your way to your room and flopped onto your bed, only to hear a knock on your window moments later.

It was JJ, with a shit eating grin plastered to his face. You opened the window to let him in.

"JJ? I thought you left-"

Before you could finish, his lips were on yours.

Pulling away slightly, he looked into your eyes. "I couldn't leave without kissing you, I can't pretend no more, baby. I need you"

You smiled, pulling him back in for another kiss. You’d been waiting for this moment for so long. He slowly led you to your bed, laying you on your back as he climbed on top, his hands rested on your sides, as he deepened the kiss, his knee between your legs, teasing you.

You cupped his face, pulling it back to look at him. "What am I gonna tell Kie?"

"Tell her I’m your JJ."

check out my other works ! masterlist

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny Fenton is Chip Skylark

Normally, I don't like doing multiple crossovers. I prefer to stick to just DC and DP. That being said, I have always loved the HC that Danny Fenton grows up to be Chip Skylark because it is the same creator and art style, so this is going to be an exception.

Bruce never understood the way people became obsessed with celebrities. He never experienced the whole "crush on the celebrity" or the urge to follow whatever scandal a celebrity was involved in (as long as no crime was committed).

If he liked an actor, it was because their moves and TV shows were good. Their acting had a range of roles that were well done. If he followed a singer or a band, it was because their music was something he enjoyed listening to. If he had a favorite sports player, they were terrific athletes who won competitions.

It was never because he thought them attractive or that he was burning with the need to know who they were dating. He didn't need to see every detail of their lives because he honestly didn't care if this singer was seen buying donuts on a random Saturday with an unknown man or if an athlete was seen buying from a discount bin.

It always made him uncomfortable how fans thought they had a right to a celebrities time. Running up and demanding autographs, taking videos or photos without consent and the worst of all, sending death threats to anyone they believe was stealing thier celebrity away.

He often heard people say that famous people knew what happened when you became famous, but that just sounded like an excuse not to treat another human being like a human being—at least to him.

The whole "they belong to the public now" was just....ugh.

Alfred was the same way. He got excited to meet someone famous from the theater but wasn't one to watch talk shows and sandals. Wasn't one to pin posters to walls or get offended when someone famous acted like a normal person.

Then Dick came to live at the manor, and although it confused him, Bruce let Dick get excited over a celebrity singer. Bought all the posters, signed CDs, met and greets, front row seats, and backstage passes if it made Dick happy.

Jason was the same with Broadway stars, gasping and babbling whenever someone he adored appeared on TV. Tim nearly fainted when he met that one famous skateboarder, framing the used napkin he had the man sign.

Steph adored that one Boxer, constantly babbling fun facts about the man that had nothing to do with boxing. Why would Bruce care what elementary school he went to? But he listened anyway.

Cass had dancers she went star-eyed for. There was that phase where she styled her hair the same way as her idol from Paris Oprea Ballet despite the fact that the style was only during nonperforming hours. Bruce had to special order the endorsed hair bands with a blue star of said Dancer.

Duke had an actor whom he never missed a single moive or show for. Even if the TV show she stared in flop from the terrible writing, the boy forced himself to sit through every minute if only because she appeared. He had a collection of DVDs long before moving in with Bruce and when Bruce took him to a special release night of her latest work, Duke had actually bursted into tears when they played her thank you for watching viedo before the movie started.

Really. Caring so much about people they didn't even know made no sense. He would understand if it was a fictional character, like the Grey Ghost because the character is and was just what that particular media presented. But real people? It was a real head-scratcher.

He assumed Damian would be the same as him. After all, Bruce knew his father, and his father's father had the same view of celebrities.

He was wrong.

"It's Chip Skylar!" His son screams at the top of his lungs when Danny's picture appears on the screen. His old college friend had contacted him asking if it was possible to have some special protection at his next concert.

Apparently, at the last one, he was kidnapped by some crazy fan and held hostage with a kid she babysat.

Seeing as Bruce and Danny often collaborated on tech for Batman (Before Danny got his big singing break, he was one of Gotham U's top engineering majors), Bruce saw no reason not to step in and offer help, especially if it turned out his kidnapping was due to magic, like Danny suspected.

He may not run around as Phantom anymore, but Danny had seen his fair share of magic users and magical creatures. That was the only explanation for how a tree had just appeared in the middle of the road and caused him to crash right in front of her house. She wasn't the cause of the magic, that much he was able to figure out when she chained him up, but it made Danny uneasy.

He was worried that the magic users would try again, and much like Superman, he had little to no defense against it.

"We're going to guard Chip Skylar!? " Damian hyperventilates, practically vibrating in his seat from excitement. "I get to meet Chip Skylar!?"

"You're a fan of his?" Bruce asks, slightly surprised, only to notice the same excitement on his children's faces.

"Ugh, duh. He's only like one of the most talented artists ever!" Steph gasped, pressing her hands over her mouth. "He once stopped to let a black cat, and every animal shelter in the state had their black cats adopted within a week!"

"I started flossing more regularly because of his Shinny Teeth song," Duke admits. "I couldn't get enough of that commercial."

Dick pulled out his phone, tapping rapidly. "I got to tell Wally. He will be so jealous I get to guard Chip Skylark!"

Bruce stared at all of them, wondering how even Jason and Cass seemed to be losing their minds over the same guy he once caught trying to drink three gallons of milk because, and he quotes, "It makes my bones go brrrrrrr"

"Danny is an amazing singer but-"

"Danny?" Tim snaps his eyes towards Bruce so fast, it took every ounce of his training not to flinch."How do you know Chip Skylark's birth name? Only the most dedicated fans know his non-stage name."

Bruce shrugs. "You all know how I feel about famous people. I'm not that dedicated of a fan but I happen to be friends with Danny. I can ask him to met you if you want-"

"YOU PERSONALLY KNOW CHIP SKYLARK, AND YOU DARED TO GIFT ME ART SUPPLIES FOR MY BIRTHDAY!? FATHER HOW COULD YOU!" Damian screeched, slamming his hands on the conference table as his siblings broke into an uproar.

Bruce honestly can never understand this.

[wcnderlnds]

love dust | kwon ji-yong (g dragon)

・❥・summary: jiyong has been your closest friend for many years but what he doesn't know is you like him a lot more than that. ・❥・word count: 1.4k ・❥・warnings: none! ・❥・authors note: first time writing for gd so go easy on me <3

“You should let me borrow this one when you’re finished with it.” Your delicate fingers played around with the rings decorating Jiyong’s hands. His accessory game was always on point — you were always asking if you could borrow the things he wore and he would always very happily oblige. Something about seeing you in the things he wore made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

His arm was wrapped around your shoulders as the two of you laid out on the couch in his dressing room, legs stretched out. Jiyong's other hand lay on his stomach where you were playing around with his fingers. It was soothing, putting him in a calm frame of mind before he had to go out and perform later in the day. Nobody could calm him better than you. He gently rested his head on top of yours, squeezing his eyes shut as he laughed softly.

“I should start charging you for the amount of things you take from me,” he joked.

“You’d double your fortune at this rate,” you grinned over at him, tilting your head. “Not my fault you always have the best stuff. Stop being such a style icon and I wouldn’t have to.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Jiyong’s fingers playing with a strand of your hair, soaking in the quiet. It had always been like this with you. Jiyong was your closest friend — you’d known him before he’d even debuted. Every step of the way you had been by his side. Nobody knew him better than you and vice versa. He had been there at your lowest, you had been there at his. There wasn’t anything you hadn’t experienced together. It was easy to say that without each other, neither of you would be the person you were. It wasn’t often in life people found someone they connected with so easily, so deeply which is why Jiyong could never know how you really felt about him.

Over the last couple of years, your feelings for him had shifted. At first you’d brushed it off as just a crush, a silly little thing that would pass as time went on. Except it didn’t pass. It only got stronger. Every single day it was like a weight on your chest knowing that you could never tell him. Not only would it be humiliating but he definitely wouldn’t feel the same and that would be it. The friendship would be over and he’d be out of your life.

A sigh escaped your lips before you could even realise. Immediately, it caught Jiyong’s attention. His eyes that had been closed now opening to look at you with concern. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” you assured him. He looked at you as if he was examining you, trying to figure out if you were lying to him but as he opened his mouth to speak, the door to the room opened.

Daesung and Youngbae walked in, laughing at something. Their eyes caught the position the two of you were in, mischievous grins slowly creeping onto their faces. Oh no. You know what was coming next. It had been like this for years now. They’d catch you and Jiyong cuddling or being close to each other and never let either of you live it down.

“Did we interrupt something?” Daesung raised a brow. Jiyong rolled his eyes, sitting up with you and giving his friend the middle finger.

“I think we did. You know, next time put a sock on the door or something so we know you’re busy,” Youngbae teased. Your cheeks flushed red as you hid your face in your hands. This only caused the two men to laugh.

Jiyong got to his feet, holding his hand out to help you to yours. “You two are a pain in my ass.” He turned to you, his hand lingering on yours for a beat longer than normal. “I need to go get ready but I’ll see you after the show? We can go get food or something.”

You simply nodded your head, waving goodbye as he and Youngbae left the room. Daesung remained behind, looking at you with a soft smile. “You should tell him, you know.”

“Huh?”

“You should tell Jiyong how you feel.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you said, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. How had Daesung even figured it out? He really was more attentive than you gave him credit for.

“Sure but I’m just saying, I think you’d be pleasantly surprised if you told him,” Daesung shot a wink your way, running out of the room to meet up with his friends.

Now, what the hell did that mean?

——

The show had gone amazing. It was like Jiyong had never been gone. Each show he performed he got more and more confident, G Dragon coming out in full force. Honestly, seeing him on stage and fully embracing his G Dragon person was hot as hell. Nobody did it like him. He was the king of K Pop for a reason.

You had slid away to the dressing room as the show ended, giving the three boys time to thank the crew. It was Taeyang’s tour but you knew how much all of them appreciated the people who helped them. It was one of the most endearing qualities — it’s what made them some of the most loved boys in the industry.

The door to the room opened and in came Jiyong. He hand a towel in his hand, dabbing at the sweat on his face. The second he laid eyes on you, he smiled. His heartbeat speeding up everytime he looked at you. He had it bad. So damn bad.

“You did so good out there!” You beamed, throwing your arms around him in a hug. Without hesitation, he dropped the towel, wrapping his arms around you. If he could keep you this close to him forever, he would. Hopefully you couldn’t feel how hard his heart was beating right now. The best feeling in the world was you waiting for him after a show. It felt like he was on cloud nine knowing that he had the most supportive, loyal and kind person by his side.

He pulled back, only slightly, his hot breath fanning across your face. You couldn’t place the look in his eyes but it cause a shiver to run down your spine. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Couldn’t do any of it without you.”

Time seemed to stand still as you locked eyes with each other. Was this it? Was this the right moment to tell him how you felt? 

“Jiyong, I….” You started but he cut you off.

“I’m sorry for cutting you off, I need to say something to you and if I don’t do it now, I never will,” he cupped your cheek, taking a deep breath as he found the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for so long now. “I’m crazy about you. I have been for a very long time but you are so important to me that I didn’t want to ruin the friendship. I can’t lie to myself or you anymore. I understand if you don’t feel the same way but I owed it to myself to at least tell you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you listened to his soft, rushed words. You could tell how nervous he was, how much he wanted to probably run out of the door and pretend he never said anything but he didn’t. He was stood here being brave so you had to be too. “Jiyong, I’m crazy about you, too. You drive me insane. It’s kind of terrifying how much I like you as more than a friend. I just… didn’t think you’d feel the same so I never said anything.”

“What? Are you crazy? Why wouldn’t I feel the same? You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met.”

“You’re biased.”

“Yeah, well,” he grinned one of those signature Jiyong grins. His eyes flickered down to your lips then back to your eyes as if asking for permission. You nodded your head and that was all he needed. He leaned forward, closing the distance to meet your lips. The kiss was gentle, a declaration of his feelings for you without actually giving them words.

It was short and sweet. It was perfect. 

Pulling back, he smiled at you. Seeing you stood there with your flushed cheeks and nervous smile, he felt like he could burst from joy. He was so head over heels for you. “Come on,” he said, linking his fingers with yours. “I believe I promised you some food.”

But before he could pull you off, you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him back down to meet your lips. Food could wait for now.

taglist (ask to be added): @ldydeath

[dailylcy]

A DIFFERENT EQUATION - an anton lee oneshot

이찬영 “ ”the right side of my neck, still smells like you”

⊹₊⟡⋆ pairing. nerd!anton x popular girl!reader MINORS DNI

genre. smut 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀 word count. 1.4k — a/n. first post of best month of the year!! ( bini seokie n toni bday month ) :3 ( also this is my first time writing smut pls forgive if its not that good i tried my best ) playlist i listened to while writing. playlist

synopsis. Anton Lee is a quiet genius, he’s probably more comfortable with equations than people — until the popular girl from his math class asks him for tutoring. What starts as a study session quickly turns into something else, proving that even the shyest nerds know how to take control.

warnings. unprotected sex‎ ( dont!! ), anton got a size kink, fingering in semi public ? tell me if i missed anything

the library was quiet, all you could hear was the faint rustle of pages and the occasional cough echoing through the room. Anton Lee —also known as Lee Chanyoung to those who cared enough — sat next to a table at the back, his nose buried in a thick calculus textbook. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, the part you couldn’t see was beneath the hood of his oversized gray sweatshirt. glasses on his nose, slipping slightly as he scribbled equations in his notebook, his long, slender fingers moving with precision. He wore loose black jeans, the ends brushing against his sneakers, and a faint flush colored his cheeks from the hot air. At 6’2, he towered over most people when standing, but seated like this, he seemed almost normal — a nerd in his natural state .

The faint scent of old books and polished wood filled the space, the late afternoon sun streaming through tall windows and casting golden streaks across the floor. Anton barely even noticed the world around him, lost in numbers and formulas, until a shadow fell over his page. He glanced up, and nearly dropped his pencil. it was you, the popular girl everyone whispered about since you joined — confident, smiley, and completely out of his league. Your hair was styled in loose waves, framing your face, and you wore a fitted crop top that hugged your curves, paired with a short pleated skirt that moved a little everytime you shifted your weight. The faint shimmer of lipgloss caught the light, and your presence always carried a subtle floral scent that cut through the musty library air.

“Hey, Anton” you said, your voice smooth and casual, like you hadn’t just flipped his entire world upside down by knowing his name. You leaned against the table, your hip brushing the edge of it, and he swallowed hard, his eyes darting to where your skirt rode up slightly, revealing some of your thigh. “I heard you’re like, a genius at math. and I’m totallyyyy failing calculus, so I thought I could use some help. You free?”

Anton’s mouth went dry. He pushed his glasses up, stuttering, he said “Uh, y-yeah, I mean, sure. I can help, I will help you.” His gaze lingered on you, your size difference even more apparent now that you were so close — he could see the way your body curved close up, how small you looked compared to him, and it sparked something deep in his chest. It was his kink that he’d never admit out loud, but it was there.

You slid into the chair beside him, scooting close enough that your knee brushed his under the table. “Great” you said, pulling out your textbook and flipping it open. “Let’s start with this chapter. I don’t get any of it!” Your tone was light, but there was something in your eyes that made his stomach twist.

He nodded, trying to focus as he Explained derivatives to you, his voice soft as always. But then your hand rested on his thigh — just a light touch at first, fingers brushing over the fabric of his jeans. He froze mid-sentence, his breath hitching. “Keep going” you whispered, your lips curving into a smirk as your hand slid higher, teasing him slowly. Anton’s heart pounding, his composure cracking as heat flooded his system. He glanced around — nobody was near you two, the stacks of books shielding you both from view — and then back at you, your gaze locked on his, daring him.

His hand trembled as it found your knee, sliding up your bare thigh until his fingers brushed the hem of your skirt. You didn’t flinch, not even once, instead, you parted your legs slightly, like an invitation he couldn’t ignore. “You’re gonna get us caught” he whispered, voice rougher than he intended, but he didn’t stop. His fingers slipped under your skirt, tracing the edge of your panties before pushing them aside. You were already wet, and he bit his lip hard to stifle a groan as he slid one finger inside you, then two, amazed at how tight you felt around him.

Your breath hitched, but you masked it with a cough, leaning forward as if studying the book. Anton’s free hand gripped the table’s edge, his knuckles white, while his other hand worked you slowly, his thumb circling around your clit with a precision that mirrored his math skills. The contrast drove him wild — your small frame squirming against his big one, the way you fit so perfectly around his fingers. “Anton” you whispered, voice shaky, “faster.” He listened immediately, his movements growing more intense, the slick sound barely audible over the library’s hum. Your hand clamped over your mouth as you came, thighs trembling, and he watched your face, mesmerized, as you unraveled for him.

“C’mon” he muttered, pulling his hand back and wiping it discreetly on his jeans. “My dorm. Now.” His tone left no room for argument, the shy nerd was now replaced by something hungrier. You nodded, grabbing your bag, and followed him out, panties full with your own release. the air between you filling with unspoken need.

Anton’s dorm was a small, cluttered space on the third floor of the campus residence hall. Posters of rock bands and a periodic table all over the walls, books stacked neatly on the desk. The bed was unmade, sheets tangled, and the faint scent of his cologne — something woody and clean — He locked the door behind you, turning to face you with a look that made your knees weak. That nerdy boy from your math class was long gone ; this Anton was all sharp with quiet intensity, where was he hiding all this?

He stepped closer, towering over you, and cupped your face with his hands -that you thought were bigger than your head- “You’re so fucking small” he muttered, almost to himself, his thumb brushing your lower lip. Then he kissed you — hard, messy, all teeth and tongue, like he’d been starving for it. You stumbled back toward the bed, and he followed your steps, taking off his sweatshirt to reveal a broad frame, his t-shirt clinging to his biceps.

He pushed you onto the mattress, climbing over you, his weight pressing you down as he yanked your skirt up and panties off in one swift move. “Been thinking about this, for so damn long” he admitted, voice low, undoing his jeans buttons with shaky hands. His cock sprang free—thick, veiny, and intimidatingly long — and you gasped softly, feeding that size kink he couldn’t hide. He didn’t bother with a condom, neither of you cared right then.

Anton lined himself up, the tip brushing your soaked entrance, and started thrusting into you, groaning loud as your pussy clenched around him. “Fuck, you’re so tight for me” he said, hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. He set a brutal pace, fastening it each time he thrusted into you, the bed creaking under his force. Your legs wrapped around his waist, but he still loomed over you, his broad shoulders and height making you feel tiny, helpless beneath him.

Sweat showed on his forehead as he fucked you stupid — your moans turning into broken gasps, eyes rolling back as he hit every spot inside you. His glasses fogged up, slipping down his nose, and he took them off, tossing them aside without breaking sounds. “So good for me huh?” he panted, one hand sliding up to squeeze your breast through your top, the other pinning your wrist above your head. The room filled with the sounds of his heavy breathing and your whimpers.

He pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your tummy, and yanked you up before slamming back in. “Look at you” he growled, “taking me like this.” His hand fisted your hair, tugging just enough to make you arch, and the new angle had you seeing stars. Cum dripped down your thighs — his and yours mixing in a sticky mess as he chased his release, fucking you through the overstimulation until he came spilling inside you with a choked moan. Thick ropes of cum coated your walls, some leaking out as he slowed, his chest heaving.

Anton collapsed beside you, both of you breathless, the thick air filled with sweat and sex. He glanced over, a shy smile tugging at his lips despite everything, and he muttered a “Uh… you okay?” The nerd was back, but the glint in his eye said he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

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[erenjaegerwifee]

Omg, you write so good!

Can you write something about Neteyam a little possessive about his secret crush towards his human female friend? I WOULD LOVE THAT SJSJSJS

OFC I CAN! This is such a fucking cute idea!!!!

✧₊⁺ Crushing

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: 18+, mentions of explicit actions

Disclaimer: my characters are aged-up! If u are uncomfortable reading don’t both interacting with my account

Neteyam grew up with you. From since you were a babygirl he was always around or with you, neteyam was fascinated with your small form. The way you learned to walk long after he did even though you were only months apart.

He thought you were weird at first cause you were so small and not blue like him. You had no tail and no point ears, no golden eyes instead you were kind of dull, the only thing you both had in common was your black hair.

Other than that it was wavy not straight like him, your eyes were a different color from him, your skin was brown? A shade of brown? He didn’t know the name of the color. But one thing he does know, you were absolutely beautiful.

In your teen years when you went through puberty you didn’t think much off it, your body was changing but you changed with it so it wasn’t so shocking to you, but neteyam had a hard time keep his eyes to himself. The way your scent changed slightly every month, your body filled out in ways he didn’t know was possible.

He never knew why you stopped wearing na’vi clothes until he saw you in a little tank top and shorts running around with Yuk. The way you tits bounces in your bra, the way your thighs were squeezed into your little denim shorts, he knew your body would just fall right out of na’vi clothing.

Yet still he found you amazingly beautiful. It was weird but it worked out, he would never get to truly mate with you but his mother already liked you. You were probably the only human girl she allowed around. It was perfect for him yet, Neteyam was so scared to tell you how he felt.

What if you thought he was too big and scary? What if you laughed in his face at the thought of being with him? What if you didn’t like him back? His thoughts pledged his mind, he didn’t want to embarrass himself, he didn’t want to face rejection of the first women he had every loved.

But still, his mind never drifted to another woman. Even his family saw the way he looked at you, like you were his very own gift from Eywa. Neteyam had been the only person that put himself in danger to protect you and no matter how much cuts or bruises he received he was happy with himself knowing he kept his special girl safe.

Neteyam loved the way you tied your hair up, he’d spend hours out of his day watching you style your long pretty hair if he could, and he has a few times. Watching the way you’d make different braided hairstyles or ponytails you called them. He especially loved how cute you’d look when you got mad the Pandora humidity made your hair look like you’ve been electrocuted. He thought it was adorable the way you’d continuously run your hands over your head and nothing seems to keep down the frizzy mess.

He loved your sense of human style even though you didn’t have much to work with the clothes you would make from repurposed avatar clothing when they joined the Omatikaya clan and didn’t need them anymore. Or when you would use big petals and leaves to make cute tops and skirts that always seems to fit your figure perfectly.

Neteyam was undeniably in love with you and he would do anything for you to love him back. Tonight, he walked his way to the human outpost, it was late at night but thanks to the humans moving closer to the clan, your bedroom was only about 4 minutes away from his hut.

Neteyam knows you stay awake all hours in the night so he thought nothing off it when he saw the faith glow through your bedroom window. You had a nice view of the forest from there, it faced away from the clan so people couldn’t see you unless they looked. Neteyam made a habit of checking on you before bed so he went to the window before anything else.

He walked up to it you were in clear view, luckily since your bedroom light was on your window acted as a mirror for you, but he could see you clear as day from outside. He watched you lay in bed in an oversized t-shirt undoubtedly an avatar’s, your legs were bare and shiny, you shaved. Your hair was loose, it curled so pretty over your shoulders and you laid on a big pillow snuggled up to your fluffy sheets and blankets.

You looked like you were drowning under all that warmth you looked adorable. When you got up off your bed and walked across the room to your desk, your back turned to him letting him see the back of your t-shirt.

Neteyam was not prepared. Your t-shirt stopped right under your ass and you bent over to pick up something from the floor displaying for him your pretty pink panties that were riding up your ass just perfectly.

It’s been a long time since neteyam saw some skin on you, it make his cock harden just seeing a sliver of what no one else does. He dropped to him knees by your window sill now only his face was in view, not that you could see him. You were so sexy for a little thing. He wants so bad to lay it down on you.

Neteyam pressed his forehead up against the window starting at your plump pretty ass until you stood back up. Only then did he blink refocusing on your t-shirt and then it caught his eye.

His brain lagged taking in the word he knew all too well, on the back on your shirt was the word big and bold ‘SULLY’ it was undoubtedly his father’s old t-shirt but seeing you sport something with his name on it made him shiver.

You had to be his, you’re literally carrying his name. He swears if you pumped you full of his babies it would be when you had his name written down on your skin, maybe he could convince you to get one of those human tattoos, he had hear they were permanent. He’d love to fuck into you seeing his name displayed pretty on your lower back over your ass, of above your collarbone so he can watch you tits bouce and see his ownership at the same time.

You have to be his. He has to tell you how he feels. He can’t let you get away and fall for someone else no. If Eywa didn’t give him a sign you were meant to belong to him before, she did now. Or at least that’s what he got out of tonight.

Tags: @rivatar @strongheartneteyam @xylianasblog @delusionalwh6re @nilahsstuff @m1tsu-ki @kylimarz @quicktosimp

✨ Part 2 is out! Here!

[takes1]

Hello!! (I don't know exactly how to do this)

Could you write something for Tendo Satori being a simp for short skirts with thigh-high stockings?

Thank you so much

tendou is obsessed with your thigh-highs

hi!! you did it right haha. could not stop thinking about this one. great request!! glad to be able to write it so quickly :0

warnings. nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / tendou is a thigh guy / thigh high fetish / almost fingering / makin out / reserved!reader / yapper!tendou / endstate situationship / intense PDA / college au / TA!tendou / 2.3k words / potential for part two idk

links. masterlist. more haikyuu here. my ao3. my imagines requests open

Tendou clocked your little outfit the second you walked into his study group's reserved room.

As the TA for this course, he tried to keep himself far away from you, just to clear his mind before trying to help. The library was now 40 minutes away from closing, and the handful of students that showed up were nearly all gone.

Helping the last poor soul with practice questions was not quite enough- he found himself praying you would stay another ten minutes for him to try and flirt, just a little.

He wanted to ask what was the deal with such an eye-catching get-up, but he wasn't sure what the best approach was. So, like usual, he just went with whatever felt right.

"Hey!" He was loud, friendly, and accidentally succeeded in startling you from behind.

You turned in your chosen beanbag to give him an unsure look. You didn't say hello back.

There was something different about this guy. You had your guesses at to what exactly ailed him, but they would remain background noise for the time being. Phone clutched to your chest, you collected yourself again in the aftermath of such a fright.

"Did I scare ya?"

He didn't wait for you to respond through your tiny chuckle. He was on a roll, and needed to open this up.

"Whaaat? No homework?" Tendo pushed his weight forward, limp over your beanbag, right beside you, "Don't tell me you're already done?"

Tendou was absurdly quick. Conversations, usually more confined to a specific, academic topic, usually left you spiraling from his fast and unfocused mind. Most of the time, you felt like a passenger in your own talks, but he was waiting for you now.

You hadn't realized how much time had passed, engrossed in a post on your phone for minutes, now. Everybody was almost gone.

"Um- yeah, I am."

There was so much going on behind the squint he gave you. It made you feel all hot and cold at the same time.

He muttered, looking around the rest of the room, "Smart and pretty, cool- that's cool."

Your mouth hung open a little, a blush creeping over your face, but he was onto the next thing. As if he didn't just call you pretty.

"So-ooo do you usually dress up outside of class?"

It was never one question. In this case it led to lots of elaboration, back-to-back.

"Because I totally did not get the memo, if we were supposed to wear something nice. I mean, bro over there is wearing a piano shirt, suit jacket and jeans. I'm-," He paused a moment to snicker at him, "-A little confused. So--,"

His eyes nearly gave him away. They faltered, slipping down to the sliver of skin showing at the top of your thigh-highs, just before the hem of your skirt ended.

"Do you- usually wear this?"

In a natural response, your eyes were following his, and you automatically pulled down on your skirt to cover yourself.

Your voice was quieter, slower, than his by many measures, "I wouldn't call this 'dressing up,' but, um, it is my style."

He had to mask his frustration -the Hellish screaming from inside- with a bigger, sillier thing.

"You got somewhere to be after this?"

Again, more questions. You couldn't help but laugh at the way he asked them so quick, flighty, like he was maybe asking you about course material.

"Like, a date, or something? Going to- I dunno- see your boyfriend? Something like that?"

Now you understood. He was no-doubt flirting. You set your phone on the floor, an inquisitive smile at your lips.

"I don't have a boyfriend," You looked him up and down slowly, watching how he adjusted, plenty aware of it, "Why do you need to know so bad?"

For the first time ever, he was searching for what to say. You grinned.

"Y'know," You shifted, twisted, to look at him straight on, "If you kissed me, I might kiss you back."

Your teeth clinked together in his haste. It was silly, an endearing accident, that made you smile against him.

His lips were soft, and warm, but he kissed you like you were made of chocolate. Something sweet, something to be devoured. There was no room to doubt his intentions because he was so passionate from the start.

A big, strong hand laced through your roots and guided you to get a better kiss from this angle.

It had been a while since your last fling. Tendou could fill the empty space in your heart, between your legs, for enough time to forget how lonely you were. Longevity wasn't something you were after. He was into you and that would do.

"Mm-h," You parted to tell him to come sit next to you, instead.

Tendou wiped the string of spit from his mouth, flushed, but never backed down. His confidence, especially in the face of being such a weirdo, was a turn-on.

"Ya think this is big enough for me~? Let's seeee,"

You watched, amused, at how he slinked into the space next to you and completely filled it up.

"You're... pretty tall," You confessed, shaky. Your hand shot out to touch him, invested in his size, all of a sudden. Hesitation, at the last second, kept you from following through.

"Mhmmm, you know it. 6'2, if you're curious."

Encouraging, he completed your desire to feel him by placing your hand on his shoulder. He did all the hard work so easily.

You were human. You had your preconceived biases. You thought weird, nerdy guys were supposed to be frail and skinny.

Tendou's shoulder was instead strong, and filled out. His shirt was a thin blend of polyester and cotton that was strained at the bicep and not so much at the waist. His legs stretched out much further than yours. All these titillating realizations kept cascading in big waves of shock. It kept you in a state of stillness that directly contrasted his excited wiggling around to get comfortable.

"You okayy?" He laughed, his proximity a safe, but new change. His words buzzed against your cheek between kisses, "You really like tall guys, or somethin'?"

He did usually wear hoodies, in your cold classroom. The way he slouched in it made him look closer to 5'9". It was warm in here so he had set it on the back of a chair a while ago.

You kissed him, falling against his warm chest in an attempt to shut him up.

Though he loved being chatty, he knew when it was a good time to let other things get the point across.

"Mmh-,"

He returned your passion tenfold. Forearm behind your upper back, a hand wrapped all around the back of your neck, he crushed you back down under him.

God, he was good with his tongue.

It didn't take very long to realize you both wanted each other, bad.

You liked what you were finding out about him, the further he went with you- he knew he liked you from the start of the semester, and now got to express his gratefulness for the chance.

"You should wear these more," His dirty, breathy voice matched the rough way he pulled your thigh-highs down.

Tendou was completely lost in the way your thighs squeezed together, how your stockings were just a little too small, your skirt arguably too short for your ass. No wonder you chose a seat like this, far away from the other students.

What he wanted was for you to sit on his face. But even he knew that idea was too much, so he settled for squeezing at your flesh, adjusting to be more over you.

You gave a closed-mouth moan of surprise at the feeling of a stiff cock under his jeans, rubbing on your leg.

The way he had you all spread and squished again for him, a little tight on space, very last-minute and surprised, was exactly how he wanted you. He grinned. Thanks to his features, that made him look intimidating.

"I've got a- a thing, for these," He explained, clearing the air a little, "Now that I think about it, if you wore this to class, I probably wouldn't be able to focus."

Just the idea of keeping him distracted like that filled you with a hot, focused, urgency. You pulled him in, legs parted, for a raunchier kiss.

He groaned against your mouth, biting your lip, and pressed an eager palm against your pussy.

"Ahh-mm-!" Your whine was getting cut short by another carnivorous suck to your lip.

He got you so wet, so malleable, so quickly.

"Fuck," His hips were grinding on your thigh, apparently enough stimulation for him- it made you feel proud, that you could get him feeling so good without much work.

His digits slid under your soaked panties. You gasped against his mouth, fingers filling with the neck of his t-shirt.

"Mmm, fuck that feels so-o good," His confession devolved into more of a growl.

His fingers were using all the wet there to better slide against your clit, a filthy, smooth sensation that kept you writhing.

"Ohh--oh my go-d," You mewled, eyes scrunched shut at how much you needed it. He swallowed up your sounds with hasty, hard kisses.

His groin kept pressed, rolling, against the back of your thigh.

It felt hot, and big from what you could tell, but you were still left to speculate what he was hiding under those jeans.

Never in a million years would you have guessed that he possessed knowledge on how to touch a woman. In any sense, not just explicitly. He was everyone's favorite, goofy TA. Not some womanizer.

Your fingers raked through his messy hair, taking in the feeling of his tongue against yours, all while trying to keep your noise down.

When he began to part, you didn't fight it, because you needed to breathe. But he stopped moving his fingers, and it left you shaky, needy. You rolled your hips and pressed your leg harder onto his hard-on.

"We sh-ould- we should stop," Tendou sighed, clearing his throat.

He was glancing around the empty study room, head on a swivel. He didn't look particularly upset, nor like he had actually heard something. You sure didn't. What the hell was his problem?

You were grabbing at him, groaning, "What?"

Another little kiss to your forehead, and the hottest, most rabid look any guy had ever given you before made you pause.

"I just- uh, I just have--," He was distracted again, squinting around, "A bad... feeling."

"I made you feel bad?" You sounded more whiny, than anything. You would have thought it embarrassing, but your cunt was throbbing with the need for more, and that took priority.

He chuckled, prying his own fingers from between your legs with marked displeasure.

"Noo, no, you make me feel like I wanna tear our clothes off." He thought for a second, sucking the wet from his index and middle finger, "Then run naked into the woods and never come back. Live like our ancestors. Have like, 16 kids."

There was no time to unpack that.

Just as you had fixed your stockings back, and he rolled off of the beanbag to stand -shifting his cock to a less obvious position in his jeans-, the door opened fast with no knock.

"Heyyy!"

Your wide eyes went straight to Tendou, but he didn't look at you. How did he know?

"Hey!" He greeted piano-shirt guy with typical ease.

The unwelcome guest, somebody you vaguely recognized from your class, explained themselves, glancing about the room, "I left my phone here! Have you guys seen it?"

Your voice cracked to say 'No,' and you vowed to remain silent for the remainder of your fake search for this idiot's phone.

Tendou found it in one of the swivel chairs. Part of you couldn't help but feel like he had some magical powers. Once the guy left, you were left mourning all that perfect proximity, all the dizzying desire you had built so quickly.

"Sooo angry," He cooed.

As he invited you for a hug, it was clear that he found your frustration the most adorable thing in the world.

You tolerated it because he held you. More specifically, he held you and palmed your ass from under your skirt. Your arms were stretched, linked behind his shoulders, as you stole more of his perfect kisses. You pushed him to sit on the table so you could stand between his parted legs.

He kept laughing, giggling at least, and messing your kisses up.

"Mh- what? What is it?"

Tendou snickered, "Didn't know you were such a little freak--,"

"Freak?"

"Ohh-kay, okay, not freak- umm," He giggled at the offense you took, cupping your face in his oversized hands, "Sorry. I really like you. I wanna do this more."

You hadn't caught on quite yet, so you leaned in to kiss him again, but only got his cheek. He grinned at your disappointment.

"Nooot here, though."

He was still squinting around, "I dunno, I still don't feel right."

After such a strong demonstration of predictive ability, you couldn't not trust his warning. You glanced around, too.

"Some other time?"

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu. (new) my imagines.

[iateyourparents]

red kisses | j.w.

pairing: jake webber x fem!reader

summary: you got a new lipstick and you just had to prank your boyfriend with it.

warnings: nothing really, just bad writing and grammar(sorry, english isn’t my first language).

an: i got this idea from tik tok but i unfortunately couldn’t find this girl:((

pictures are from pinterest:)

You got a new lipstick. But not any lipstick, it was a color changing lipstick.

At first it was in neutral color and then after few minutes it was starting to get red and redder until it was bloody red.

So of course you had to use this on your lovely boyfriend.

You already pranked him with normal red lipstick and he wasn’t mad but well, now he was making sure you doesn’t have red lipstick on when you kissed him before he was supposed to go out.

Currently Jake was in shower so you quickly took your phone deciding to share this prank with your viewers on instagram later. You recorded a quick intro telling them about your purchase and plan.

Then when you heard that water stopped running you pretended that you still were on the couch with your phone.

„Hi baby.” Jake smiled at you and sat next to you.

„Hi love.” you also smiled at him opening your arms and he gladly laid half of his body on yours and snuggled into you.

You stayed like that a few minutes.

“Go dry your hair babe, we don’t want you to get sick and you have to go in few minutes.” you reminded him. He was supposed to be out with Johnnie in thirty minutes so that was perfect opportunity for your prank.

Jake sighed but did what you said and went to bathroom to use dryer.

„Baby, can you do my hair?” you heard Jake asking.

„Sure.”

Few minutes later he was sitting on the floor in front of you with you brushing his hair. You styled it the way you knew he liked and then he was almost ready to go.

„I’ll go change. I’ll miss you.” he pouted and you giggled quietly kissing the top of his head.

„I’ll miss you too but i’m not sure if Johnnie will be happy with that reasoning.”

„Stupid Johnnie.” you heard Jake muttering under his breath and you only shook your head with small smile while he was getting up from the floor.

He went to yours room and you quickly started recording on your phone and you put on your new lipstick. As you expected, it was almost clear like a lipgloss. You quickly hid your phone and not five seconds after you were done with hiding, Jake was back from the bedroom in new clothes.

You acted like you were taking something from a cabinet in kitchen.

„I have to go.” you didn’t have to look at him to know he had a pout on his lips.

You smiled at him and opened your arms and he quickly ran to you and was snuggling into you.

Few seconds later he took his hands from your back to grab your waist and lift you onto the kitchen counter.

You giggled and took his face in your hands and kissed his lips, he gladly deepened kiss.

When you disconnected your lips you also left kiss on his left cheek and side of his neck. You made sure to press your lips a little harder to leave a lipstick in those places.

„Don’t keep Johnnie waiting.” you lightly patted his ass and he smiled at you.

“I’ll be back soon.” he promised at kissed your forehead and then nose “Bye love.”

“Bye baby, have fun!” you waved at him and he got out.

You took your phone from its hiding spot and you stopped recording.

You waited few minutes and then updated your video with how your lips and places Jake kissed were almost bloody red.

You waited for some message from Jake about your prank but got nothing so you waited for him to be back home.

Finally, some time later when you were watching a film you heard a keys jiggle on the other side of the door so you quickly started recording and pointed phone camera on the door.

Jake came in with wide smile and red lips shaped spot remaining on his neck, but the ones from lips and cheek were gone.

“So I noticed your prank.” he accused pointing his finger at you “How the hell it appeared after I was out?”

You laughed and explained “I bought color changing lipstick.”

He gasped and came to sit next to you.

“I was so shocked when Johnnie told me about lipstick stains because you had no lipstick on.” he pouted and you giggled, but then he smiled widely and pointed at the kiss on his neck “I kept this one and I think I should make a tattoo like this one with your kiss.”

You smiled at him because well, he for sure looked good with this kiss.

“You definitely should.” you nodded and stopped recording to start kissing him and he gladly accepted this.

“But be careful.” he warned when you disconnected your lips “I’ll have my revenge!” he laughed mischievously and you only nodded with small smile.

“Sure love.” and you were back to kissing him.

[bambi-kinos]

Sorry for taking so long on this post, I've been writing it in my head for weeks trying to figure out how to phrase everything. But umm I think Paul was in a bath tub when he was taking certain photos of John.

So the book itself is divided into sections based on location. There's a London section, a Paris section, then they go to New York and then on to Miami, etc. The London section is really interesting and the photos are very revealing IMO. I definitely recommend getting your hands on a physical copy, your local library may have it. This is something you should experience physically because uh. There's a lot of John in here. To me at least it's very obvious how deeply in love Paul was with John.

So imagine for a minute that you're Paul McCartney, and you're in London, England with your best mate.

The way that journalists are treating this set of photos makes me feel a little insane because so many of them are saying "this is John and Paul backstage!" Y'all, this is not John and Paul backstage. This is John and Paul in their hotel room. Alone.

First off let's look at this:

Here's John shaving the stubble off his face. Sunglasses still on; John had prescription sunglasses so if he's wearing these then his contacts are not in. Look at the background of this photo:

John's in the way here but that is a set of curtains in a hotel room! You can tell from the horizontal bar on top, those are to hold the black out curtains. And another thing: I think these are John and Paul's suitcases sitting on top of a wardrobe. Not entirely sure about that though since the image is so grainy.

At this point John has taken off his sunglasses, he's brushing his teeth and has washed his face. Again, look at the background:

This is a medicine cabinet, a storage feature in bathrooms to keep toiletries safe from the humidity caused by a bath and/or shower. I don't know how common these are anymore:

What I find interesting about this sequence of photos is that John first pulls a funny face for Paul:

But then something grabs his attention:

Spits out the toothpaste:

And then off John nyooms...making soft eyes at Paul no less.

Pay close attention to the background on this photo! We're seeing the hotel window from another angle, the horizontal strip at the top is the tell:

I outlined the horizontal strip on the curtain and then drew lines on the dips in the fabric so you can compare it to the OG photo:

Paul is utilizing an interesting run-and-gun style of camera shooting here, he's got John tilted and at an angle that puts John over Paul. Unconsciously signaling something? Let's move on...

According to this strip...

...this is the next photo in the sequence:

Again calling attention to more interesting details here:

John's tie is missing and his shirt is undone. And that looks like a towel in his hands. He's turning in for the night.

2. John is standing in front of a reinforced door which are common in hotels but are not common in dressing rooms:

3. This photo is itself a reflection of John's face that Paul has taken in a mirror, maybe a vanity mirror. Someone in the McLen discord server said it was too small to be a vanity mirror and I'm inclined to agree, so maybe it's a compact or hand mirror propped up on the sink.

So what does this mean? I think that John and Paul were getting ready for bed, someone knocked on the door, and John went to answer it. You'd think Paul would but for some reason he didn't. Oh and another thing...check out the four jackets in the mirror:

They're definitely hanging from something so John and Paul were looking out for the suits that night.

Next in the sequence, John is back at the sink washing up. Check out the hotel window curtain being reflected in the mirror there!

Then something kind of odd happens...John is seen coming back and re-entering the shot again? Through out Eye of the Storm Paul emphasizes a lot of duality with John, including a shot where John reflects on his own sculpted face. Paul was very interested in John doing performing the act of reflection on his own face:

But here's the really interesting bit and what makes me think Paul was naked in a bathtub when he took these last two photos:

Y'all, that's the fluffy fringe of a towel! You can tell that the threads are hanging down from it! These are very different from the clean lines of the curtain or the medicine cabinet or even the lines of their suit jackets! Paul was sitting in or on the edge of the bath tub when he took these photos of John! He wrapped a towel around his camera to protect it from getting wet! Cameras are generally made for right handed people so when Paul had his finger on the button on the right hand side. That means Paul keeping his finger on that button pushed the edge of the protective towel over the lens!

So I submit to you Paul McCartney's Eye of the Storm, where he submitted a film strip where he was staying in a hotel room with John and was most likely nude and bathing when he took John's photographs! Someone knocked on the door to get their attention while Paul was naked so John answered the door for them, while Paul followed him a little. John was enjoying having Paul right there for him too:

PLEASE get Eye of the Storm, it's such a great book and there's so much in it. Paul lets the pictures speak for themselves and wow they have one hell of a story to tell!

@perasperaadastratoday

[burningembers91]

Powder Blue Dress - Cho Hyun-Ju x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: For the first time, Cho Hyun-Ju is living the life she had always wanted. But when you move into her apartment block, will she allow herself to open up?

A/N: This is my first time writing for a transgender character, and I really hope I've done her justice. I adored her character is Squid Game

Warnings: mentions of transphobia, low self-esteem

Cho Hyun-Ju had always known she was different. She couldn’t precisely pinpoint when exactly, but she’d always had an inkling that wasn’t like her family or friends. She’d tried hard to make a life for herself, to pretend that she was happy in a body that felt completely alien to her. She tried to build relationships, shape her career and mould herself into something her family would be proud of. But the more time that passed, the more she realised that she was living a lie. This male body, it didn’t suit her, it wasn’t who she was on the inside. She was tired of looking in the mirror and not recognising the person that stared back, she was tired of people not understanding how uncomfortable she felt in her own skin.

The day she told her family she wanted to transition from male to female was a day she would never forget. There was so much anger, so much shouting. She was ejected from her parent’s house immediately and told in no uncertain terms to never darken their doorway again. She had thought her friends would be a little more understanding, but they too started to distance themselves. They called and texted less, stopped inviting her out with them. She didn’t expect much from her work and wasn’t surprised when they fired her after she told them about her dreams of transitioning into the woman she’d always known she was. she went from being surrounded by a network of family and friends to being utterly alone in the space of three weeks. Hyun-Ju packed up and moved to a small apartment on the other side of the city. She put her past out of her mind and chose to look forward instead. She grew her hair, started experimenting with makeup. She took a job in a warehouse, picking up extra shifts whenever she could to bolster up her savings into order to pay for top surgery and the hormonal medication she needed. It had been tough, and she’d taken out several loans she couldn’t afford, but the debt was worth to finally be able to look in the mirror and recognise the woman she saw smiling back.

Most days were still a challenge; people loved to stare. She understood why though, she was a 6ft female in a dress who still had a six o’clock shadow. Hyun-Ju ignored the stares and the jeers, but life was so lonely now. She found the courage to go and shop in a boutique she’d passed a few times, buying herself a few dresses and a pair of ballet flats. She was desperate to showcase her more feminine look, but where was she supposed to go when everyone was pretending she no longer existed?

She ran into you in the lobby of the apartment block one day, and her world was forever altered. “Cute dress!” you exclaimed, admiring the powder blue cotton with lace details. “It’s absolutely stunning!” Hyun-Ju felt herself blush, and her smile was so wide it made her jaw ache. No one had ever complimented her style, not before or since her transition. She wanted to ask you out for coffee, but something stopped her. Just because a person likes your clothing, it doesn’t mean they like you. But she kept running into you, and every time she did you made her blush and smile all over again. It was you who finally made the first move, inviting her out for cocktails. You were new to Seoul, and the pretty girl in the powder blue dress made your heart sing.

The two of you became inseparable, and Hyun-Ju found herself able to open up to someone for the first time in her life. You were a great listener, and you never once made her feel invalidated or wrong. You made her laugh, and the two of you spent hours together talking about everything and nothing. You were the greatest friend Hyun-Ju had ever known, and she slowly found herself wishing you could be more. But you were the beautiful girl with the sparkle in her eye and the confidence of Beyonce, and she was still scared that you’d turn her down, that she wouldn’t be enough for you.

“You have a beautiful smile,” you told her one evening, after you’d spent the night watching a comedy on Netflix and eating your bodyweight in chocolate. Hyun-Ju didn’t meet your eye as she thanked you, and you wished she could see herself the way you did. She was funny, and kind and so beautiful to you. You wanted to tell her all this, but you were terrified of pushing her away. She’d been so open and honest with you, and you didn’t want her to think you were taking advantage of her.

As she said goodnight to you, and headed back to her own apartment, Hyun-Ju studied her smile in the mirror. She wished she could see what you did, and she wished she could tell you how much you meant to her. But a lifetime of hiding your true feelings had left its mark on her. There was still so much fear and anxiety of opening up. Sure, she’d told you about her past and her transition journey but opening up to someone romantically was something she hadn’t done before. She wasn’t even sure how you felt, and she could have the situation completely wrong.

As she climbed into bed that night, she thought of you. She thought of your melodic laugh, your perfect sense of humour. She thought about the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the way your floral perfume wrapped her in the sweetest of hugs. She wondered how it would feel to kiss you, to have you run your hand through her hair. As she looked up at the stars shining over the city, she had no idea you were thinking of her as well.

[as-sweet-as-a]

Heyyyy I absolutely love love LOVE your work and I saw this thing that @mandarinmoons posted and it said “Spencer Reid is the type of person to bend down and tie your shoelaces and then give you a kiss on the knee once he’s done.” I was wondering if you’d be willing to write something like that

AHHH omg!! tysm!! i hope this meets expectations :]] (also stalked checked out the account you mentioned and fell in love)

strawberry laces - s.r.

summary; you're meeting diana for the first time and literally could not be more nervous contents; reader is a nervous wreck, spencer is the best boyfriend ever, fluff words; 549

You had just finished fixing your hair, finally deciding how to style it after about 97 different options. Spencer drifted past. He paused behind you to put his hands on your shoulders.

“We’re going to be late.” He reminded softy. His hands gently rubbed your shoulders, trying to calm you down. You were meeting his mother for the first time today and Spencer couldn’t tell who was more nervous about it. But, he figured out a while ago that the best way to calm himself down was to help you calm down.

“I know, I’m sorry. Does my hair look alright?” You asked, fiddling with a few strands. Diana knew you existed. Spencer had told her nothing but good things about you. Yet, you were so worried you’d mess it up.

“It looks perfect.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, careful not to mess your hair up. When you first did your hair, Spencer made the mistake of saying it was ‘fine’. You’d been spiralling since.

You nodded and stood up. “And my outfit?” It was a casual meeting, Diana would be meeting them with her carer at a coffee shop. However, it was hard to judge ‘casual’ when your boyfriend wore cardigans, ties, and shirts everywhere he went.

“Mhm, really encapsulates the whole meeting my boyfriends diagnosed schizophrenic mom for the first time thing.” He grinned, trying to lighten the mood. It didn’t work.

“Spencer, I’m being serious.” You scolded.

He walked forward and wrapped his arms around you, holding you to him. Your arms came around his back, the sleeves of the cardigan you borrowed far too long. “I know, I’m sorry.” He rested his chin on your head. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks… I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” You mumbled into his chest.

He nodded and took one of your hands, bringing it over his quick heart. “I am too. But it’s going to be fine, I promise.”

You took a deep breath. You let yourself linger in Spencer’s loose embrace a moment longer before nodding. “Okay… yeah, I’m ready.” With your newfound confidence, you headed to the bedroom door.

“Shoes.” Spencer reminded.

You turned around and walked back to him. “Shoes.”

He was holding the pair of Converse you had laid out and got down on one knee, tapping his leg. You chuckled and put your foot on his thigh as he helped you into your shoe. Your laugh brought a smile to Spencer’s face. He tied the laces in a neat bow and pressed a kiss to your knee. He patted the side of your leg.

“Next one.” As instructed, you swapped which foot you were balancing on Spencer’s thigh. He gave it the same treatment, an even bow and a kiss on your knee. When you were back standing on both feet, Spencer rubbed your legs with his palms soothingly. “It’s going to be fine.” He repeated. You smiled down at him and cupped his face.

He stood up and gave you a quick kiss. “Now, come on. Before she starts wondering where we are.” He smiled and took your hand. You grabbed your bag and headed to the door again.

You glanced down at Spencer’s mismatched socks and grinned. “Shoes, Spence.”

He nodded and turned around. “Shoes.”

[tempobaekh]

Short N’ Sweet

pairings: frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, suggestive, allusions to sex at the end and a tiny mention of sexual acts?? readers physical appearance is not mentioned

a/n: i am going absolutely feral for this man, like foaming at the mouth feral, gnawing at the bars of my enclosure kind of feral. and i also love sabrina and because of Halloween i got this idea, this might be a little late since yknow Halloween is over but i just got this idea so we can ignore that:) also i wanna thank my biggest fav frank writer @agirlcandream84 for inspiring me to write this. i absolutely love her work and the way she writes frank please go read some of her work. okay enough yapping from me

Halloween night was finally here, and you could barely contain your excitement. The costume you’d been planning had been kept under wraps—literally—and you’d teased Frank endlessly about it, keeping him guessing for weeks, knowing full well the look on his face would be priceless.

Ever since you’d seen Sabrina Carpenter's iconic outfits from her Short N’ Sweet tour, the idea had taken root. Glitz, glam, a bit of sparkle, and a lot of confidence—that was going to be your vibe tonight. And you knew it would knock Frank’s socks off.

Or maybe more like knock his pants off.

Frank, being Frank, wasn’t exactly putting in the same level of effort. He’d gone with his usual all-black getup: a black shirt that fit him just right, dark pants, combat boots, and his well-worn jacket. Not much of a costume, but with his gruff demeanor and dark eyes, he still looked intense and dangerously handsome.

You’d teased him about needing a 'proper' Halloween costume, but he’d only smirked, knowing you’d be the one to steal the show. Still, he was eager to see you; he’d been waiting all week, and you could feel the thrill of his anticipation even through the closed door.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” he called out.

With one last deep breath, you slipped on a towel and cinched it tight around your chest, and stepped out of the bathroom, strutting a little as your heels clicked on the hardwood as you made your way toward him

He looked up when he heard you approaching, his gaze immediately sharpening with curiosity. You watched as his eyes narrowed slightly, scanning you up and down in curiosity. "You gonna tell me what the costume is, sweetheart?” he asked, a little smirk creeping onto his lips.

A mischievous smile played on your lips as you took a step closer, letting him get a little look at your carefully styled hair and the faint sparkle of the makeup you’d applied.

“Mm, you could say that,” you teased, giving him a wink. “But the real costume’s under here. Want to see?”

“Hell yes, I do,” he murmured, his gaze darkening, lips twitching in that half-smile of his that always drove you wild. “C’mon, darlin’—let me see it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You took a step back, giving him a grin, and with a flourish, you unwrapped the towel and tossed it aside, holding out your arms as you posed.

Frank’s reaction was immediate. His jaw went slack, his dark eyes going wide as he took you in. His gaze roamed up and down, lingering on every detail—from your heels up your bare legs, taking in the glittering, skin-colored tights that shimmered like liquid gold. He lingered on the lacy, sparkling red bodysuit that hugged every curve perfectly, bedazzled in red crystals that caught the light with each tiny shift and gave you an ethereal, almost unreal glow. The garters—lacy, sparkling, and just suggestive enough to make his jaw clench—added an extra edge to the look.

When he finally found his voice, he only managed a rough, “Damn, sweetheart.”

Laughing, you spun around, tossing the towel aside and letting him see the details you’d added just for him. He took in the bedazzled kiss mark on the top of your right inner thigh, positioned right where he always planted kisses with his face and tongue buried between your legs as you writhe and moan with pleasure under him. And when you turned around, you knew he’d see the second kiss mark on your left shoulder blade—another favorite spot of his when he has you on your hands and knees and thrusting into you from behind.

You felt the air between you shift, and a shiver ran down your spine at the brief image in your head.

“You like it?” you asked, turning around and looking at him, enjoying the way his eyes roamed over you, taking in every last detail.

Frank’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed the distance between you, his large hands resting on your hips before he traced one finger down to that kiss mark on your thigh.

"Sweetheart…" he murmured, sounding almost reverent. “You look…”

"Too much?" You asked, feigning a worried tone, but you couldn’t hide your smile.

"Too much? No… no, darlin’, it's perfect," he said, reaching out to gently run a hand along your arm, his fingers grazing the crystals. His voice was low, roughened with restrained desire as he brushed his thumb over the spot. “Did you put this here just for me?”

You smiled, heart racing. “Maybe. Figured it might be a nice little reminder for you.”

His fingers skimmed up to your waist, tugging you closer, his hands warm and possessive. “Can’t lie… I’m definitely thinkin’ about ditchin’ Josie’s altogether tonight.”

“But it’s Halloween,” you teased, giving him a look that only seemed to make him hungrier. “We can’t just skip it, Frankie. Besides, I want to show off a little.”

“You’re killin’ me here,” he muttered, his voice dropping as he leaned down, brushing his lips against your neck. His fingers flexed against your waist. “Whole place is gonna be starin’ at you. Don’t think I’m gonna be able to keep my hands off you, darlin’.”

You laughed softly. "Guess you'll have to try, Castle."

He let out a low groan, and you felt his hands slide lower to your behind. "Yeah, easy for you to say when you’re wearin’… this." His eyes dipped down to the kiss mark on your thigh, a possessive gleam in his gaze as pulle away and traced the outline with his thumb again. "This here… You’re just tryin’ to drive me insane, aren’t ya?"

You shrugged, an innocent smile on your face. "Maybe. Or maybe I’m just giving you something to look forward to, and besides, you're the only one who gets to take it off me.”

That got his attention. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “You keep talkin’ like that, and we’re not makin’ it to Josie’s tonight, baby. But we’re not stayin’ long. Got… plans for when we get back.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the grin across your face. "Come on, big guy. Try to survive the night without dragging me home too early."

When you arrived at Josie’s to meet up with Karen and her friends from her law firm, you caught more than a few looks. Heads turned, eyes lingered, and you could feel Frank tense beside you, his arm protectively draped around your waist as he pulled you in close.

Every now and then, he’d lean down to murmur, “You know, you’re lucky I’m keepin’ it together.”

“Oh, I know,” you replied each time with a wink, enjoying every bit of his attention.

As the night went on, Frank’s hands couldn’t seem to leave you alone, not that you minded. They’d drift to the small of your back, settle on your hip, or tug you closer to him. It wasn’t possessive so much as it was protective—he just wanted you to himself and wasn’t shy about it.

The night was fun, filled with drinks, laughs, and compliments from Karen and Marci who appreciated the sheer effort you’d put into your costume. But the real thrill was feeling Frank’s hand skimming along your waist, his fingers brushing the bare skin where your tights met your bodysuit. Every time he leaned down to murmur something downright filthy in your ear, you could feel the low, restrained fire in his voice that would make your thighs clench.

Finally, as midnight approached, Frank leaned in close, voice low and warm against your ear. "Alright, darlin’. I think we’ve done our part here. Time to go home."

You couldn’t help but smile as you glanced up at him. "Couldn’t wait to get me alone, huh?"

"Not one bit," he admitted, his fingers lacing through yours as he led you out of Josie’s and into the cool night air.

The drive back home felt like a blur, and as soon as you got home, his hands were on you the second you closed the door. He pulled you close, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

Frank’s lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak, his hands roaming your back with an almost desperate energy. His touch was firm but reverent, like he was savoring every inch of you. The smooth leather of his jacket pressed cool against your bare arms as he pulled you flush against him, his strength and warmth radiating through the layers between you.

“You’re killin’ me, sweetheart,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and thick with want. His hand drifted to your thigh, his fingers brushing over the kiss mark there, and he let out a soft, possessive growl. “This right here? This ain’t fair.”

You smiled against his mouth, your breath hitching as his fingers teased along the edge of your garter. "I thought you liked it," you teased, your voice a little breathless.

"Like it?" He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes blazing as they swept over you. "I can’t think straight, darlin’. All night, all I’ve been thinkin’ about is gettin’ you alone."

His hands slipped to your hips, gripping just firmly enough to remind you of his strength as he guided you back toward the couch. You let out a soft laugh, but it caught in your throat when he leaned down, trailing kisses along your jaw, then down your neck. He paused just at the hollow of your throat, his stubble grazing your skin in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Frankie…” you whimpered, your hands tangling in his hair as his lips continued their path, brushing over the crystals adorning your shoulder blade.

He hummed against your skin, his breath warm and tantalizing. “You knew exactly what you were doin’, wearin’ this,” he said, his tone somewhere between a grumble and a purr. His fingers toyed with the edge of the bodysuit, skimming over the the crystals adorning the fabric. “You’re lucky I got any patience left.”

"Maybe I don’t want you to be patient," you replied, your voice soft but laced with mischief as you tugged him back to meet your lips.

Frank chuckled darkly, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. "Careful what you ask for, sweetheart," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. The way he said it, low and promising, sent a thrill straight through you.

And with that, he captured your lips again, deeper this time, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was setting the stage for something as bold and electric as the confidence you wore tonight.

Note: gifs, pictures, and header DOES NOT belong to me. CREDITS TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS!! Feedback and reblog is appreciated.<3