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barbieaemond · 1 year ago

Text

Lykirī

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

WARNINGS: loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), handjob, we ride him bitches, dom/sub tones if you squint

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

Author's note: an early Christmas gift for those who celebrate!! For those who don't, just a regular smutty piece. This was based on a request where wife!reader rides Aemond. Merry Aemondmas :)

MASTERLIST

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee

"You are to marry the King's second son. Prince Aemond Targaryen."

Those were your father's words. Your sister had looked at you almost with pity and a hint of relief since that fate had befallen you and not her. You had simply nodded, accepting the fate decided by your father, just as thousands of other daughters before and after you would have done.

Your mother had come to comb your hair before going to bed, and without much ado, she had told you what would happen after the wedding, after the banquet.

"All you have to do is try to relax your nerves, and I promise it will be less painful.”

The thought had stuck in your brain until the wedding day. And the aura emanating from the prince didn't help. He was stoic to the point of looking like a statue, his posture rigid as a spindle, and there was something unsettling about him that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand when he took your hand to recite the wedding vows. Fear, but also a foreign giddiness prickling your skin upon feeling his calloused fingers around yours.

The banquet had not helped either. Prince Aegon had behaved like a court jester, drinking to the point of wondering how he could stand upright, poking his brother with cruel jokes about his eye and a whore who had made Aemond a man many years before.

You didn’t know what kind of unpleasant memories your good-brother had just summoned in his brother’s mind. That woman and her cheap perfume, that way it had clung to his skin, to his thoughts for days after his only ever trip to Flea Bottom.

Then the elder Prince had approached you with his breath stinking of Dornish and it was then that Prince Aemond broke his icy silence, standing up abruptly and looking down at you. "Come, wife. It is time for us to retire."

Prince Aegon had clapped his hands as if in front of a hilarious show, saying "Finally some fun! The bedding!"

The entire crowd present at the banquet had escorted you to the prince's chambers. The servants had removed your dress, leaving you in your underskirts; you had unconsciously covered your chest, crossing your arms to hide from the greedy eyes of the men peering in the doorway, Prince Aegon in the front row with yet another cup of wine clutched between his fingers.

Master Mellos invited you to lie down on the bed, and you obeyed, swallowing, while a host of servants shielded you from view as the Maester made his humiliating inspection.

"All is in order, your Graces," the Master informed the Prince and Queen. And that was enough for Aemond to completely slip the iron mask off his face and go straight to the door. "The show is over. Get out."

"Oh, come on, little brother. Let me watch, at least. I could give you some tips."

Aemond had towered over his brother, and from your seat on the bed, you were able to see the eldest brother shrinking by the moment. "This is not some common whore you're speaking of.” Aemond seethed “She is my wife, and you will owe her the respect she deserves. One more lewd word from your mouth, and I will rip your tongue with my bare hands. Am I being clear?”

"Gods, brother, are you already so cunt-struck?"

He never got an answer, only the door being slammed right into his face.

You stood in the middle of the room, torturing your hands as he looked at you from the door. He seemed unsure of what to do, until he cleared his throat and took a few tentative steps in the room.

“You could have some wine, if you wish. It may…help you.” He said, but as he said this, he seemed to regret his own words, given how his mouth twitched as if he had just tasted something sour. Memories could come just like that, sudden and sour.

“You must relax, my prince. Have some wine, maybe? No need to worry, I will take care of you just as a prince deserves to.”

“I’d like to keep my mind clear, my Prince.” You said, keeping your gaze down, hearing his fast and deep sigh. “Fine.” he said, straightening his back as a soldier. After all, wasn’t this just another duty?

It wasn’t just that though. You were his wife now, the future mother of his children. It was his duty and his right to claim you as his own.

“Lay on the bed.”

With your heart pounding in your ears, you did as you were told but when the mattress dipped under his weight, you did not expect to see him with his clothes still on, the eyepatch firmly in its place. More so, you did not expect the harshness of his gestures as he held your waist to turn you around. The air hitched in your throat as your face met the mattress and a strange sorrow gripped your heart. Did he not want to look at you? Did he not like you?

“Try to stay still and it’ll be over shortly.” he said. He was trying to sound reassuring, but his voice came out cold and flat. His fingers latched on your underskirts, hiking them up, filling you with embarrassment as you grow completely exposed beneath him.

Aemond knew what to do. He may not have been as depraved as his brother, but he was still a man. And once in a while, when his hands would not suffice, some maid or servant girl would’ve had to bear, quite keenly on their part, his intimate attentions.

As his hands began to glide on your thighs, you shivered and said “Wait…”

Slowly your head turned to look at him, cheeks red and breath slow and anxious. “Am I not allowed to look at you?”

Your words seemed to stun him for a moment. The mere thought of you wanting to look at him made him realize how wrong he was behaving. You were his wife, not a common whore to bend over and have his moment of bliss. He had even told Aegon. That was not his intention, but there was a gap between how he felt and how he acted, a limb severed by years of pity looks and feelings trapped in his mouth and swallowed.

Almost gently, he made you turn but once you were facing him, he pinned your wrists on the mattress, unable to touch him even if you had gathered enough courage to do it. You tried to brace yourself for what your mother had told you. But she had not told you that he would touch you there, that all your senses would go numb except for that one brand new feeling between your legs. But he seemed enthralled by it just as you, his mouth parting to let out slow puffs of air as you grow wet and swollen against his fingers.

Your breath was labored, coming out in soft pants that made your cheeks purple. More so because he kept circling his deft fingers on your core while looking straight into your eyes, reveling in the way you were answering to his call, in the way he was shaping your need, your desire.

“You never touched yourself, did you?” he asked in a husky voice.

You barely shook your head and his eye glinted with something dark as he brought his face close to yours “Good. I shall be the only one inside you.”

He swallowed your shaky breath with this mouth, kissing you for the very first time, apart from the shy, almost prude peck exchanged after the wedding vows. Your lips moved shyly, trembling with the coiling pressure between your legs. And just when you thought this heat, this delicious aching couldn’t grow more unbearable, he sticked a finger inside you, spilling a loud moan right against his mouth.

One of your wrists twisted in his harsh hold, willing to touch him, to grip on something, but he didn’t let you. “Easy…” he blew on your lips “Relax. It’ll feel good, I promise…”

It surely felt good to him, to feel the tightness of your cunt squeezing his finger. He curled it and you squinted your eyes, choking a gasp that made him smirk proudly against your jaw. “Gods, you’re so tight…” he breathed as he kept rubbing slowly against your walls.

“It’s—it’s too much—“ you cried out with pain and pleasure running together, breathing his scent of ash, leather and a hint of something minty.

“How will you take my cock if you can’t even take my finger?” He whispered with benevolent cruelty, moving his finger faster and deeper.

Certainly your mother had not told you of the obscene wet sounds you would hear, of the uncontrollable moans coming out of your mouth, of his soft growling next to your ear when his breeches became too tight.

He had lined the tip of his hard manhood to your entrance, catching your breath away as tried to still your nerves, but the pain came altogether. You felt like he was cutting you from the inside. Tears filled your eyes, squinting for the painful stretching. You knew he was restraining himself; he didn’t want to hurt you more than he already was. And you almost felt affection for him, most men would not have bothered.

Then he had started to move, you felt that stranger body rubbing over and over against your walls, and finally the pain soothed, but not completely. You could tell he was enjoying it, his ragged breath and faint moans told you so, as well as the curses hissed through his teeth in a language you guessed was Valyrian. And then he had stilled completely, gripping your hips hard and firm while you felt a hot wave pulsing through your core.

The next morning, you could barely sit down for breakfast, and your aunt had looked at you with concern and a hint of amusement in her eyes. She was a veteran at court, a long-time widow, and quite happy to be so. It was her who suggested your betrothal to the Prince.

"How are you feeling, sweet niece?"

"Awful." you said promptly, shifting your weight on the seat.

"Well, this is the kind of anguish all women must go through."

"I thought that was giving birth to another human being."

"Oh Gods, no. That is the ugly part. This is the good one," she said with a sly smile "I suggest you enjoy it as much as you can."

At the time, you didn't really understand what she meant. The first night with the prince had gone...well, you thought. But he certainly enjoyed it more than you.

The second time was better. Your muscles were still sore, but the pain was but a faint discomfort compared to the pleasure you felt for the very first time in your life.

The third time he went down on you, bringing you so close to the edge only to deny your release, with cruel enjoyment on his part, making you whine with shame at the loss of his mouth and tongue on your folds.

The fourth time he bent you down on the breakfast table, all things falling in a mess of cutlery. He had pulled up your skirts and lowered his breeches just enough to thrust in, unraveling a special spot deep inside of you that had you mewling like some primitive beast.

The fifth time he had you writhing in bed, hair stuck to your head with sweat and hands clenching the sheets while he had you peak three times in a row.

It was then that you started to think your aunt was right.

That was indeed the good part.

“Are you afraid?” he asks, with a soft taunt on the tip of his tongue. You drag your eyes away from the gigantic beast before you and almost scoff. That is enough for him to laugh, quietly, but still not quietly enough for you to not notice and wonder at the view.

It’s been merely one moon since you’ve been married to Prince Aemond, and you could count on the fingers of your hand the times you have seen him laugh. It was eerie at first, you feared all the things you heard about the One Eyed Prince were true. That he was cold as stone and just as hard. And he was. But the more you spent time together, the more you were able to make cracks, and let light through.

“I’m equally afraid as any little mortal of right mind would be in front of the largest dragon in the known world, my dear husband.”

His lips stay quirked up, but his eye widens, as it always does when you call him that. He steps close to you, a few of his long strides are enough for him to tower over you, and the ground below your feet shifts.

“Come.” He says, taking your hand, “I promise she won’t eat you.” This time you deliberately glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Do you need some other kind of persuasion to trust me? Perhaps like the one I used this morning?”

The early afternoon sun makes his face almost hurting to watch, or maybe it's just his bold gloating that makes his appearance so exhausting.

“That was not persuasion.” you remark, hiding the tinge of red on your cheeks “It was coercion.”

“Hmm. You didn’t seem so hostile when I made you come twice before breakfast.”

"I was hostile to the chance of the maid assisting with what we were doing."

"The maid should know better than to enter while my wife is undressing."

His eye roams over you just as he had done that morning, hunger clouding it, making your insides shrink. "Perhaps it's best if she knew. Someone must be aware of how cruel my husband is." there's a soft tease in your tone—something you are still learning, but true nonetheless.

He had ripped your nightgown with his bare hands when the maid entered to help you dress. She fled hastily, but you barely spared a glance at her, already lost to the fierce claim of his hand between your legs. He had taken you, twice, and then ordered you to dress, forcing you to have breakfast with the Queen and the Princess with your thighs still sticky with sex, sticky with him.

And he had been there, sitting just in front of you, with a piercing and delighted gaze.

He pulls your hand, and you follow, getting closer to that living relic that is Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons. She raises her monstrous head and looks straight at you with her amber eyes.

It is the first time you step so close to her, and even if you thought about it a lot, your heart is pounding fast, and your breath comes out slow and labored. She's a dreadful wonder.

She flares her nostrils and smells you, making a low rumble which results in a gust of hot wind that ruffles your hair and skirts.

“Lykirī, Vhagar.” Aemond says quietly “Issa ñuha ābrazȳrys. Kostā pāsagon zirȳla.”

You look at him questioningly, and he answers. “I told her you are my wife. And she can trust you.”

You cast a curious look at the dragon and then back at him “Is that all it takes? You tell dragons to trust you, and they resist the urge to turn you into their meal?”

Aemond curves his lips and makes you step closer, standing behind you and guiding your hand on the old green scales. “It takes much more than that.” he whispers in your ear “You have to surrender to them, completely. A dragon is no slave.”

You feel the heat beneath your palm, but it’s not that that makes you swallow; it’s the heat of his breath on your neck, right into your ear, scorching his way into your brain and inflaming every thought.

“What does Lykirī mean?” you ask, and you hate how your voice cracks on the edges.

He smirks because he knows, he always does. But he does not answer. Instead, he pulls your hand again, and you follow, circling the beast until stopping before the intricate ropes that lead to the saddle.

“Aemond, I don’t think—”

“You are my wife and you will ride with me on dragon back.” He said, commanding.

Truthfully, you gladly want to obey; there is just a slight difference between picturing riding a dragon and doing it.

Even the climbing to get in the saddle is a challenge on its own, but he helps you until you firmly seat yourself in it. Aemond sits behind you, and you look around with widened eyes, as if you are looking down from the highest tower ever built, except this is a living one, made of fire and breathing fire.

He leans over you to grab the reins, and you tense, waiting with bathed breath.

“Dohaeras, Vhagar. Soves!”

She lets out a loud screech that makes your ears hurt, but you have no time to even register it because she's already moving. You grip Aemond’s arms and brace yourself against his chest when Vhagar lurches onward and opens her huge wings to take flight.

She goes up and up, above the clouds, and your head is dizzy, with fear, with euphoria, until you are laughing like a child, like you never did in your entire life. Aemond lets go of the reins and laces his arms around you, angling his head to look at you, his silver hair violently ruffled by the wind. “How does it feel, my sweet wife?”

There are no common words to describe it. Now you know why they say Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. No man could claim a dragon or rule the skies.

“I feel like I’m close to the Gods.” you say, and he tightens the hold on you “Dragons do not answer to Gods.” he says, burying his nose in your hair “Where does this leave us?”

You turn your head to look at him, and you feel like you are looking at one of them. And yet he looks like he’s beyond any God.

“Above them. Above the Gods.”

“Hmm.” He croons, breathing your scent through his nose, and then his right hand grabs your skirt and dips underneath, until you feel his cold fingers grazing your skin. “I will make you feel like one.”

He cups your core through your small clothes, and you whimper, gripping his arm harder. He feels your heat through his palm, hotter than Vhagar’s own fire, and he sets the fabric aside to properly touch you. “My sweet wife.” he whispers, sliding a finger between your folds “Always so ready for me.”

“Aemond.” You say, holding your breath, trying to oppose but your voice cracks, and your body with it, already answering to his call. You see clouds before your eyes, but it’s all a blur, all your senses are enslaved by his touch, rubbing lazy circles on your bud. Too slow for your liking, for your need. Your hips arch and buck, chasing his hand for more friction, and he laughs, darkly. “What is it? What do you need, sweet girl? Tell me.”

He takes your chin with his free hand and forces you to turn your head and look at him. His hold is ruthless, but his tone is almost pleading. “Tell me.” he orders and you feel like he’s smothering you, sweeping away all the air from your lungs. “I-I need more…”

“More of what?” he asks, stopping altogether. “Show me.”

You look him in the eye and swallow, heat inflaming your cheeks, but there’s no place for shame, not here. It is just a faint ghost passing through you, and then it’s gone. Your hand pulls the gown up, and you place it on his, like a feather. “Here.” You breathe on his mouth “Inside.”

The howling wind does nothing to muffle his growl, and then he’s kissing you, harshly, teeth clashing and biting your lips as he accepts your plea, sliding a finger inside of you.

A strangled moan escapes you, and he swallows it, darting his tongue in every corner of your mouth. He releases your chin only to grab your leg to further open them and then he adds a second finger, moving them deftly until reaching that special spot. Your head falls back on his shoulder, gasping loudly, digging your nails into his hand.

Your breath is ragged and fast, and you uselessly try to stifle moan after moan even if there are only the skies to hear.

“Don’t.” he says grazing your lobe with his teeth “I want to hear you. I want you to scream for me.”

Your mind goes blank, as does all your restraint. You feel the tide coming to crash you, hips moving on their own accord, chasing and chasing. And then you’re drowning in it, mouth falling open and flesh and bones clenching and trembling.

He grunts softly when your nails scratch his skin and his fingers slip out, glistening; he raises them to his lips and tastes every drop of you. Still panting, he takes your chin once more with his sticky fingers and licks your lips, so you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your head is still dizzy when Vhagar lands in a clearing in the King’s Wood, but this has nothing to do with altitude. Your limbs are heavy when he helps you dismount, your legs buckle. There is a tautness knotting your bones, itching your fingertips.

You wish to touch him, because you have never, not as a wife would touch her husband, not as he has done with you.

It is only a moon and yet he has taken you almost every night and every day. He has touched you everywhere, he has molded you to his liking, and you let him do it with giddiness, undoing yourself like clay in his hands. He had put his mouth on you, and you have discovered he particularly enjoyed it, because he has done that at the most inopportune times, even in some dark corner of the corridors.

And you wondered if you could do the same with him—not because you have to, but because you want to. You want to claim him just as he claims you, relentlessly.

And he really is. He is relentless, he doesn't give you the time to wander with your hands, to discover, to touch. Fire burns him quickly and you are ashes before you realise you are burning with him.

“I didn’t know my wife had claws.” He says at one point, while you are going back to the Keep.

You wake from your thoughts and turn, watching him raise his hand to show the red marks on the back of his hand, and the sight makes you almost proud—proud to have left a mark of you on him. But you want more, and he wants more. You know it; it takes a brief look at his breeches to know that he wants more.

You dart your eyes around, but there's no one. So, you stop. Trying to gather all the boldness you never had, you step closer to him and take his hand in yours. Your eyes look up slowly, glinting with uncertainty and bravery. "Then let me soothe your pain, husband."

Aemond’s eye widens, and the air around you turn heavy, forcing you to open your mouth to breathe. You take one more step and bring the back of his hand to your lips, kissing it gently while your eyes stay fixed on his face. The other hand goes tentatively to his chest and then slides down, and for once, just once, he’s the one answering your call. His eye darkens and his lips part when your hands bashfully grab the laces of his breeches.

But you should have known better. Targaryens and their desires. Doomed to take whatever they want, whenever they want, answering neither Gods nor men.

You barely blink and he grabs you by the wrists and forces you to the ground. Cold grass and bushes stinging your back make you gasp, but Aemond is already on you, watching you like a century-long thirsted man who takes a glimpse of a water spring, as if you could evaporate from his sight at any moment.

“Aemond, please.” you beg “let me—“

But his tongue is in your mouth, hot and scorching you alive. Your eyes flutter shut, and he hikes your skirts up, taking hold of your hips. You feel his bulge against you, hard and ready, and you can do nothing else than wait, pinned down like prey, all bravery a distant memory.

Suddenly he lowers himself down, lifting your skirts with haste until you’re completely bare half down. “No—Aemond, please I want to—”

“You want what?” he asks with a wolfish grin “Deny me your sweet taste? Iksā ñuhon, ābrazȳrys.” He said that already, you know what it means. You are mine.

“You belong to me. And this…” he swears placing your legs on his shoulders while looking at your aching core as a man who found the greatest treasure in the world. “This belongs to me as well.”

He runs his tongue up and down your wet folds, humming with delight as he tastes you and sees you squirm, arching your back on the stingy bushes. You moan loudly when he slowly swirls his tongue, not able to keep track of your hips starting to move on their own, thrusting into his mouth and the sight of you like this, makes him even wilder, pushing him to open his mouth and put it entirely on your cunt, sucking harshly until anything before your eyes becomes blurred.

Your legs on his shoulders begin to shake and curl, caging him further against you, but just when you are about to come straight into his mouth, he pulls back. A weak sob leaves your mouth as your hips keep bucking against nothing and he smirks at that, untangling your legs from his shoulders, running his tongue over his lips, to taste what's left of you on him. You look at him through dazed eyes and a tinge of annoyance for the denied release. “What?” he has the boldness to ask with a sly smirk “Did you not enjoy it?” he runs his thumb on his glistening chin and swiftly licks it. "Hmm. I most certainly did."

“Aemond, please.” you claw desperately at his shoulders and forearms, forcing him to lie on you, feel something that could soothe the aching between your legs. He seems keen to grant you this mercy, molding his crotch against you so you can feel how hard and desperate he is.

“Please.” you beg in a thin voice.

“Speak it plainly, my love. I want to hear it from your pretty mouth.”

You look at him straight in the eye and what you say next is not a request nor a plea. Your mother would be ashamed of you, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You are not begging. You are demanding. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t need more than a few moments to get his cock out of his breeches, and not a moment later he’s pushing inside of you, your back arching on the bushes and your throat fighting for breath. He groans and starts a relentless pace, lifting his weight from you just enough for him to look at his cock going in and out, the sight only pushing him to thrust harder and harder. “Look at you.” he croons, sweet and rough “You were born to take me, to be mine.”

Your face twists with pleasure, teeth biting your lower lip while he takes you higher and higher, higher than any sky a dragon could ever take you.

He soon becomes messy and sloppy, cursing under his breath, but you can barely hear him. Your mind is sluggish and everything comes muffled: him, the birds chirping on some tree, your wet flesh slapping against his in the lewdest and most blessed way.

He curses some more, and then he’s spilling inside you, his arched mouth opening and his eye closing like a man absolved.

And yet, he does not stop. He has not claimed enough.

“Māzis, dōna ābrazȳrys. Come for me.”

Your hand clutches something on the ground, something with thorns that pierces your skin with pain, but you can’t even feel that, because you are falling, legs trembling around him, and heart stopping for an endless moment of pure breathtaking bliss.

“Gevie.” he coos with his lips on yours, falling with his body on you, still clenching and pulsing around him. He stays right where he is, nesting inside of you, and now it is the only chance you have been granted to touch him. You put an arm around his shoulders, catching your breath, and look at the skies above, thinking you are indeed above them.

It was easy to explain the dirt and grass stains on your dress. It was a little less easy to explain the twigs in your ruffled hair when you and Aemond returned to the Keep only to meet the Queen Mother along one of the corridors. Alicent merely smiled at you with a tight smile and did not spare from giving a look full of daggers to her son.

"Seven Hells" you mutter when you go back to your rooms and catch a glimpse of the mess you are in the mirror.

Aemond stays on the threshold to close the door and grins, or rather, gloats.

You step out of your muddy shoes and start to pull the laces of your dress.

"What are you doing?" he asks, and you playfully glare at him. "Am I allowed to take a bath now? Or do you want me to go around all sullied? I fear there are no believable excuses for the state I’m in."

"You can tell them the truth." he says, walking to you and replacing your hands with his to help you pull the intricate laces.

You smile softly with your back turned before raising an eyebrow, asking "Which is?"

He keeps his eye focused on the dress, a slight furrow in his brow, and stoically serious, he says "That your husband fucked you in the King's Wood."

"I could tell the maid. I'm sure she won't be stunned after what she saw this morning."

He makes you turn so you can look at him, and the sight before you makes your heart sing. His eye roams on your face softly, a rare sight on him, always stoic, always sharp, like all the angles composing this beautiful sculpture of black glass.

You always thought of marriage as a strategic deal for men, and a way for women to prove their value to the world, giving those same men sons and daughters. But you care for him. And he cares for you. That look on his face is enough for you to know that he cares for you, not merely as a brood mare.

“Gevie.” he says, quietly, and he touches your cheek, softly, making you wonder how those same hands can be so delicate and yet so merciless at the same time.

“What does it mean?” you ask, even if you are sure he will not answer. You observed that when he speaks in High Valyrian he does it almost to himself, as if to protect something he does not wish the others to know.

But this time, he meets your eyes and lowers his hand. “Beautiful.”

You look at him with your heart pounding in your throat, and then you stand up on your toes, crashing your mouth against his, almost catching him by surprise. But he is all too deft at turning the game on his side, and a few seconds later, his hands are gripping your hips and his tongue is licking the roof of your mouth.

When the door suddenly opens, you pull back, spotting the same maid from that morning who, this time, can do nothing but suffer the Prince's wrath.

"Can't you just fuck off for once?!"

You hold back a laugh against his chest and the poor maid flees in a hurry. But when he pulls you to him, tilting his head to pick up where he left off, you step back and say, "I'm afraid the Queen has requested your presence. You should go, my dear husband. I promise that by tonight I will be completely clean."

"Tonight?" he asks, raising his eyebrow. "What is happening tonight?"

You shrug your shoulders and hold back a smile. "Innocence doesn't suit you, my Prince."

"Neither does you."

"I'm afraid this is your fault. You are sullying my soul as well as...everything else."

"You won't be of the same mind when you have my child growing in your womb," and he smirks, looking at you as if he's taking a sacred oath, and then walks away.

You finally manage to take a bath and change clothes, and then you go to visit your aunt. She spends most of her time alone, sipping tea in the gardens, partly because she can't stand the other court ladies, partly because the court ladies can't stand her. Truthfully, you cannot blame them, your aunt speaks plainly—too plainly at times.

You sit down with her for tea, which you end up swallowing like salt, because your aunt takes it with a whole squeezed lemon, and no sugar.

"I saw you with your husband earlier. I may be too old for new fashion but mud on your skirt and twigs in your hair seem a bit too brazen, even for me."

You stifle a smile, recalling what happened. If only she knew he was brazen enough to have you utterly undone on dragon back, thousands of feet up.

Your eyes go distant while you fumble with some tablecloth threads, but your Aunt stares at you piercely, and grabbing her cup of tea she says "I love that look on you."

"What?"

She sips the sour liquid and puts the cup down. "That look. The I'm in love look."

"I am not!" you counter, cheeks going red.

"Of course you are. I've watched you two. I dare say he's falling way faster than you."

You look at her puzzled. Many things have changed in a moon. And you are sure you are utterly infatuated with him. But you did not know what to think of what he actually feels for you, if he even feels something. You know he cares for you, you know he loves spending time with you. You know he's passionate, possessive, almost soft at rare times. But in love? That seems too soon to consider, or to hope for.

"It is too soon to talk about love."

"In fact, I did not, my sweet niece. Falling in love and love are beasts of different species. Why do you think we say "falling"? You can't stop from falling. To love a person is an entirely different matter. Love is a choice."

You let those words sink but you prefer not to question your heart right now. There is a reason you have come here to talk to your aunt, even if you don't know how to address the matter without melting from embarrassment.

But in the end, who could you ask for advice? Your squeamish maids? The Queen Mother? Definitely not.

"Listen, I...I wanted to ask you something..." you start "It is uhm...a matter of somewhat intimate nature."

"Ah, my favourites." your aunt says, beaming "I am all ears."

You shift uncomfortably in your chair and swallow another sip of that dreadful tea "My mother...she explained to me what would happen between husband and wife to...consummate the marriage. But she didn't tell me...well, everything else."

Your Aunt is quick to raise her eyebrow "I gathered that your marriage had been consummated by now. Thoroughly."

"Y-yes, of course. But I...discovered...that there are other ways for a husband to please his wife...and I was wondering if...if I could…do those same things to please him."

Your aunt looks utterly puzzled for a long moment, and then, almost stunned, she says "Oh Seven Hells, child. You are telling me you never sucked your husband off?"

A few court ladies walking near turned their heads, going white as sheets, while you, on the contrary, take a nice purple shade.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, prissies. We all did it eventually." she dismisses them, waving a lazy hand, and looks back at you. "You should do it, if you wish. Men love it. Your uncle used to ask—"

"I don't want to hear that, auntie, I'm begging you." you say squinting your eyes.

"Listen to me, child. Men love to think they rule everything, everywhere. But it is not always like that. And if you want to rule your husband's heart, you must rule in his bed first."

That evening, Aemond wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his room with his wife and forget all the hateful political talk he had had to endure at dinner.

You had not attended, and that had bothered him. Never would he have thought of marriage as anything more than a duty, yet there he was, wondering where you were, who you were with, and why you weren't in his rooms when he set foot in there.

"Where is my wife?" he asks the maid, and she keeps her eyes glued to the floor, saying "The princess spent the evening in the library, your Grace. She told me that she would be—"

"I am here," you say, appearing behind the young maid.

You see his chest sag as if a weight is leaving him, and he casts an icy glance at the poor maid "Out."

He is rarely kind to servants, but you can tell by his tense shoulders that something is wrong.

"Aemond, what is the matter?" you ask as soon as the door closes, walking up to him with a hand behind your back.

"Where were you? Why weren't you at dinner?"

"I was in the library."

"For four hours?"

"It was a tough read—"

He grabs your arm, gripping hour wrist harshly, and you flinch. "Aemond, I swear to you.” you say watching his eye on fire and a sneer twisting his mouth “You can ask Maester Mellos."

Suddenly he lets you go, and looks down, closing his eye for a moment. But he doesn't apologize, he never does, and not because he is a Prince. It's just the way he is. He doesn't apologize, he doesn't say thank you, he doesn't say please.

"Aemond, what's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it now. In fact, never. Not here."

You watch him carefully, and you nod as he moves to pour wine into a cup. You watch him gobble it up greedily, which is unlike him. So, you get close and move your hand from behind your back and say, "Anyway, I wasn't lying. I really spent four hours in the library...trying to decipher this."

You show him an old book, and the title catches his eye, cup held in midair. "Tales of the Dragonlords?" he asks frowning. "This is in High Valyrian."

"It is." you confirm as you move closer, and you steal his cup before saying, "Would you read it to me?" and you take a sip, of wine and courage.

He watches the liquid flow down your throat and then accepts the invitation, taking the book—the one he has read so many times he can recite it by heart. He opens it to the first page, but you say "No. Page 72."

There is a slight imperative tone in your tone of voice, and it thrills him, given how his eye glints under the candlelight. He drops it on the table, looking at you from head to toe, and says, "I'll read it to you later, sweet wife."

He steps closer but you back away saying, "Fine, then. I'll tell you what I understood so you can correct me or not." and at the same moment your own hands go up on your corset and you start pulling on the laces.

The gesture catches his eye like a moth to a flame and he stays silent as you pull all the laces and then slip off your dress, remaining in your underskirt. His gaze roams over you slowly, and with a soft smirk, he decides to play the game.

“Page 72, you said. How Dragonlords claimed Dragons.”

“Yes.”

"And why did it capture your interest? Do you wish to do it? Do you wish to claim a dragon?"

"I wish to conquer, not claim."

He comes closer and looks at you, breathing through his nose, restraining, always restraining, and then he's raising his hand to reach a lock of your hair falling on your shoulder, but you stop him, air as heavy as moss.

"The Valyrian sages say a dragonlord must surrender himself completely to the dragon. But it works both ways. The dragon must submit his will to their rider."

He looks at you without blinking, and you take his arms, guiding him closer until you turn and push him lightly on the bed. He sits and you slowly climb on his lap, knees caging his hips, heart is pounding in your throat like a hammer. You hear him taking a swift breath and pride pools in your bones because for once you have caught him off guard.

You can feel his crotch hardening by the moment, but the look on his face is not one of hunger or lust. It is pure and blessed devotion.

You wonder at the view, and your eyes roam on his face until...

"Can I take it off?"

There's no need to say what. His face goes hard as stone, eye looking away with discomfort, with shame.

"Please, Aemond." you whisper. "I want to see all of you. I want you to bare yourself to me as I did to you."

"It is not pleasant."

"I don't want pleasantness. I want you."

He stares at you for an eternal moment and then he caves.

A flash of sparkling blue catches you completely and you can do nothing but watch with lips parted, while he keeps his eye down.

You wrap an arm around his shoulders and lean your head against his to breathe one single word in his ear. "Gevie."

His arms are all around you, holding you so tight you might gasp for air. Instead you are smiling, breathing through his long silver hair. You are not sure if you aunt is right, if love is indeed a choice. You can't bring yourself to care because you are doing it already.

And then he's kissing you, seizing your tongue with his in a fierce consuming way. He slightly hikes up your hips, and his hand tries to slide between your legs, but you lace your fingers around his wrist, breaking the kiss with panted breath.

"No." you whisper, and he looks at you almost questioningly, mouth open and chest heaving.

"Lykirī."

His eye widens and you smile, secretly. "I know what it means now."

He smirks at this and does not miss the chance to be the ever diligent scholar. "But you said it wrong. The R is hard."

“Lykirī.” You say again, following his lesson, and in the same moment your hand leaves his wrist and goes down to his breeches. He dips his chin to look at it, at your hands unsure, and he too looks unsure.

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.” You say, and your voice comes out firm and clear. “Please, Aemond. Let me…let me touch you.”

He realizes now that in all the times you have been lying together, you never managed to lay a hand on him. He likes to keep people at distance. Too many wrong hands have been on him. The Maesters’, inspecting, debating, healing without healing. That whore, taking what it was not hers to take, not yet.

But he wants you to touch him. He has dreamed of it, in any way a man could dream of a woman’s touch.

He looks at you for a moment, chest rising slowly, and then, without taking his eye off you, he pulls the laces of his breeches and guides your hand around his cock. You look down, exhaling a long breath at feeling his hard and hot flesh already pulsing.

He knows you don’t know how to do it, so his hands guide you at first, going slowly up and down, and the air comes out of his mouth slowly and labored. You look up at him, his eye is pitch black, lid growing heavy with pleasure, and your core clenches, desire pools in your belly and flows down.

He must hear the call of your body, because he releases your hand, still stroking him, and goes right between your legs. You gasp loudly, and he hums, delight dripping from his voice just as you are dripping on his fingers. He starts to pump his fingers and you can do nothing but moan, clutching his shoulders with your free hand, the other still around his cock, but the act is growing lazy, your mind can’t focus properly on what you are supposed to do.

“Listen.” he orders you, fingers moving faster and faster, and you do listen. Your soaked flesh coming undone at his scorching touch. “Who else has you like this?”

But this is a question he’s asking himself. Because no one else will ever have him bare like this.

“You. Just you.” you say hoarsely, eyes closing and hips rocking on their own accord.

“And who am I?” he whispers just as hoarsely, and yet his voice is like a whip on all your senses.

“My husband.” you cry, feeling the wave ready to drown you “Ñuha zaldrīzes.” My dragon.

You cannot care less about how you said it, because then your mouth falls open, nails digging into his shoulder while your trembling hips keep riding his fingers, clenching them like a vice.

Your head falls onward, leaning against his forehead, and you try to catch your breath. You watch his wet fingers go straight into his mouth while he looks at you, humming with pleasure. “You look so pretty like this.” he says with the ghost of a smile on his lips “I should fuck you in Throne Room with the whole court watching, so they know how pretty you are when you come for me.”

You laugh with your cheeks flushing, and he slides an arm around you, and you know he wants to pin you down on the bed and fuck you until you are muffling nonsense in the pillow. But this is not his game. This is yours, and even if you don’t know how to play, you will win.

“No.” you say, climbing down from his lap, and he looks at you with hunger and a tinge of thrilling curiosity. “It is my turn to claim.” You say with all the bravery you possess.

Not a moment later, you are going down on your knees.

Another small victory, because his eye widens as he had never done before, and you can see that this, the sight of you on your knees before him, is something he has been craving for, even dreamed of it.

His breathing is slow, and you are not even touching him.

You place yourself between his knees and you lean closer and closer, anxiety twisting your insides, but you want to do this. “Lykirī, nuha zaldrīzes. Surrender.” you take him into your hand, tugging slowly, and your lips linger on the tip, heart pounding in your ears and eyes fixed on him. “Lykirī.” You say one last time and then you are swallowing him.

He hisses loudly and his lips part, hands clutching the covers until his knuckles go white. He’s like burning metal inside your mouth—hot and hard. At first, you just taste him, running your tongue over the head, and he’s cursing under his breath. His hands twitch on the covers, restraining and restraining, but there’s no need. You take his hand while looking at him and you release it from your mouth to say “Teach me.”

It’s like you have just poured fire on more fire. His eye goes wild, he takes hold of your head and starts to guide you again, making your mouth engulf him once more and deep down to the base and then up to the tip again, filling the room with a wet gagging sound. You get the gist of what you’re supposed to do, so your head starts going up and down and up and down, and he actually moans for you, head falling back for just a moment before looking back, he can’t help but watch as you fiercely claim him.

You watch his chest heaving fast and your jaw is starting to hurt but you don't care, you are too absorbed by the view before you. You are too thrilled by the fact that, for once, you have made him speechless.

He's always so bold in the bedroom, so cruel in deciding when and how to give pleasure, and now he's utterly speechless. He can only curse without breath, and gasp and groan.

“Kelītīs.” he manages to say at one point, voice all husky and cracking. You don’t know that word, and you have no time to ask because in a blink, he’s slamming you onto the bed and he’s hiking up your skirt, but you get on your elbows pushing him on his back and climbing on him.

“I’m not done, valzȳrys.” you say feeling his hard length inflaming your core, so you lay your hips on it as firmly as possible. “I claimed, but I did not conquer.”

“You are fucking torturing me.” he points out, bucking against you.

“Conquests could last for centuries, dear husband. You above all should know that.”

“All I know now is that I need to fuck you.” he says placing both hands on the sheets to pull himself up.

“No, I will.” you promise, rocking your hips once more “This is my conquest, not yours.”

You keep rubbing your drenched core on his length until a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and he's so hard he's leaking from the tip. "You are twisted, wife." he says with a dazed tone and you smile even if you can't take it anymore, but you rock some more, saying "I'm a quick study. And I'm learning from the best."

Finally, when you are so wet you are dripping on him, you raise just enough to slide his cock inside of you.

You gasp together and you brace on his shoulders to start moving. You both know you are not going to last long, so you start rocking your hips slowly, taking him to the hilt until you struggle for air.

“Move…” he orders but you just take the opposite road, slowing your hips in a delicious torturing way. “Do you know what else the Sages said? A rider must know their mount, feel their heat below them.”

But Aemond does not have a single drop of blood in his head right now to give you an answer, let alone play your game; he's just fire that burns and burns and burns and just like the Sages said, you can feel his heat, burning below and inside you. He grips your hips and starts to thrust inside you like the wild beast you are supposedly claiming, until you are moaning so loud your throat hurts.

“Yes—” he growls as you bounce on him “Just like that—you’re gripping me so well—fuck"

You both turn sloppy, a mess of sweaty limbs and teeth biting, clutching at each other with bruising grips, pulling at the roots of his hair when you’re about to fall from the highest sky.

"Come on, my sweet girl. Let go for me." he breathes into your mouth, forcing you to move even faster "Let go fro your dragon. Seal your conquest." And you do.

He follows right after, spilling inside while digging his teeth into your neck like fangs on a prey, muffling his loud groaning.

And you are smiling like a fool, a lovestruck fool, but most of all, a conqueror.

Thank you so much for reading!! 💞💞

#likiri #liv(in la vida loca)#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond x wife reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x wife reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond fic #aemond smut #hotd fic

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egophiliac · 7 months ago

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Hello ! I positively adore the running joke of Idia unknowingly finding Lilia to be the coolest guy ever whenever he doesn't know it's him, like when Silver described his father, or obviously with muscle red. I can't say what'd be funnier, Idia finding out his online best friend is actually Lilia, resident spooky hyper fairy; or them both never finding out, and it'd become even more ridiculous as time goes on. How do you think it'll play out ? You're always so on point

(Also, though it makes sense, I'm still devastated bat boy didn't get a ticket for the Halloween skeleton train : ( does anyone mentions him at some point ? Like how he'd have fit right in with all those Halloween town little freaks, and how he'd have impressed them with his spooks and scared techniques; after all he's been every Briar Valley's children worst fear on Halloween for centuries. I'm on the eng server and I didn't wanna spoil myself by watching the whole thing on youtube)

Have a nice day !

you and me both, Idia and Lilia being oblivious online BFFs (+ Idia being incredibly intimidated any time Silver brings up his jock gamer dad) is my favorite running joke/subplot. 🤝 it's SO good, to the point where I also am unsure if I actually want it to ever be resolved or not...maybe, like, as a post-canon stinger or something? everyone's standing around covered in overblot ink, and Idia and Lilia's phones go off at the same time...

(legit I do think this is part of why Idia couldn't be present for Lilia's dream, because for some reason Lilia decided he was going to just. embody his past self online. he probably quotes his own battle strategies or whatever in the middle of boss fights. Idia didn't pick up on the whole "oh how weird that we both live on a super remote island" thing, but he would spend thirty seconds listening to General Lilia describing siege warfare and be like "w-wait")

all that aside, however it does end up happening, I do see Lilia being very blasé and all "oh! cool!" about it. y'know, taking it very much in stride! and Idia...very much not.

(can't tell if tumblr is going to chew this into illegibility or not, this will be a fun surprise ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ)

as for Lilia sadly missing out on Halloweentown shenanigans...he does get one little mention as part of an offhand reference to the light music club, but so far no one has brought up how this basically is just Lost In the Book of Liliatown (Sebek's been too busy yelling about not getting to be in the same group as Malleus). 😔 honestly though, it's probably for the best that he got left out, because he would just settle right in and refuse to ever leave. canon would shatter. we would miss out on all the delightful angst of episode 7 because Lilia is too busy eating poisonous shrubbery inbetween practicing his very best screams, and no one can pull him away from it.

(I can hope for a sequel next year though...)

#art #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #gentle spoilers but y'know. just in case #lost in the book with nightmare before christmas #hajimari no halloween #most of the kitchen scene was jade messing with the firsties and that was so delightful that i didn't think til after #that you'd think sebek would have made some kind of reference to lilia 'i lost my tastebuds in the war' vanrouge's quote-unquote cooking #ah well. jade being mean is more than entertaining enough #looking forward to more of it tomorrow!#god. lilia and idia though.#lilia is like. genuinely idia's best friend and neither of them have any idea #and idia keeps doing that 'ha ha what if we were friends out of game too? what if we met offline? jk jk jk uNLESS...👉👈'#and then he immediately chickens out because he's so convinced that crimson will hate him if they ever met irl #(meanwhile lilia is just like 'my online bestie is so cool :) la la la')#they are both so stupid and i love them so much #i've just realized that i actually do want them to find out each other's identities #because idia doesn't just go to school with his online bff #he ALSO goes to school with his online bff's extremely supportive and extremely socially-inept kids #idia is going to get invited to dinner at diasomnia and it's going to be SO awkward #silver is going to give a long formal speech thanking him for being a stalwart comrade and trusted warrior brother to his father #as sebek stews in jealousy that idia got to fight by lilia-sama's side >:(#while idia sits there like 'all i did was link him a video about lane control for his character class'#malleus will make such an effort to learn literally anything about online gaming and he won't understand a word of it #it will be SUCH a disaster and i very much do want it now

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hungharrington · 11 days ago

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i love every single one of the summer smut prompts and am manifesting them for everyone this summer but "utilisation of the ties on the sides of bikini bottoms" for stevie? 🥰

i wish that for everyone also!! okie this became filthy so quickly lol but i also hope everyone looked at this prompt and went 🙂‍↕️ steve's a munch. afab!reader, 1.8k, overstim, a very unsanitary use of a kitchen counter, nearly mean!steve, mdni this entire blog is 18+

unravelled

"You know," Steve murmurs in your ear, his breath hot across your skin. "This is normally much harder."

The kitchen counter digs into your lower back lightly, the stone cool compared to your flushed skin. Steve's crowded against you, his hands wandering, with a particular interest in the sides of your bikini. He's close enough you can feel the scratch of the hair of his chest, feel the heat of his body.

He kisses your neck. You try to hold even a modicum of power here.

"Is that—" Your sharp inhale interrupts, due to the hickey Steve's beginning to paint onto the sensitive skin of your neck. "—some, like, stupid dick joke?"

You feel, rather than hear, Steve's responding laughter. It's light and immediately buried beneath another scrape of his teeth along your neck. You gasp softly, entirely unsure what to do with your hands.

It's not as if you're surprised you ended up here — you and Steve cooling off in the pool, with minimal fabric between you, is hardly a difficult equation.

It's more the here, the now.

You're still in the kitchen for christ's sake—and yet no part of you wants to tell Steve to wait so you can move it upstairs just yet. You're more eager than you'd expect to see where this goes.

"No," Steve says raspily, dragging his mouth off you.

You wonder if its because he knows you can't pay attention to anything else when he's kissing you — because you become rapidly aware of the way his fingers have slipped beneath the ties of your bikini.

"'M talkin' about these," He says, pulling back. His lips are pinker than ever, his eyes darkened with desire. He smirks. "They make for such..."

He toys with the string on one side, giving it the lightest tug. Your stomach twists up, in excitement though you realise, as it dawns on you that might not even make it up to the bedroom.

"Easy access." He finishes, releasing his hold on the string and instead letting the tie ping back against your skin with a snap!

Your breath shudders out of you, nipples peaking beneath your bikini, and suddenly you're absolutely sure you'll do anything to have this man ravish you. Steve must see it, the heaviness that sinks into your gaze, because he's grinning all of sudden.

His hands on your hips shift back, palming over your ass, before he mumbles, jump, and you're swiftly lifted up and onto the counter. The marble is still cool, though not enough to explain the goosebumps prickling along your body. That's from Steve entirely.

His hands bracket your body as he finds space between your parted knees, leaning in and kissing you hotly.

Your pulse rabbits in your chest, your hands finding their place either side of his face, pulling him closer. You're both on the same page now, you can tell.

Still, Steve still asks. "You okay?

He's toying with your bikini strings again as he does, evidently what he's asking about. You nod, a little mmhm coming from your throat because you're a little scared about how debauched you might sound before he's even started.

Steve grins, hazel eyes shining with adoration as he peers over your face. "Good. Just want my baby to have fun."

It's gooey enough to make you roll your eyes, just so you don't have to deal with how sappy it makes you feel. Still, with your hands cupping his face, you urge him closer.

"So long as you're also having fun, yeah?" You check, stealing a kiss from his lips. Your noses touch and Steve nuzzles in closer, another kiss shared.

"Fun? Absolutely." He sounds so sure, so you don't stop him when he pulls back. He glances down to where his long fingers are still playing with your bikini strings, then back up at you, a hunger to the lust in his eyes.

"See?" He says nonchalantly. "It's like you're gift-wrapped for me, honey."

Then he tugs on the string, slow and continuous, until the knots unravels, undoing your bikini. You watch with bated breath as he does the same on the other side til the fabric sits loose and free. The sticky evidence of how riled up he's got you just inches away.

Your cunt pulses hotly, heartbeat too strong. You need him to do something, like, yesterday.

Steve moves slowly, as if drawing out the moment for himself, dragging a finger down the crease of your thigh. It pushes the fabric with it, slowly revealing you to him. There's a string of slick still connected and you can hear the soft groan Steve makes the moment he sees it.

"Oh, honey," He coos. "S'cute how excited you are."

Some biting response rises on your tongue, but then his hand is moving again — his thumb this time, rubbing along the lip before he nudges your folds open more.

Something flames inside you, feeling oddly inspected, as his other meandering hand sinks lower and lower. You can feel your cunt clench around nothing, urging him in, but Steve only makes another soft groan. His finger traces just below your leaking hole, finally picking up some slickness.

Your patience runs out. "Steve," You say pitifully. "You said fun."

He grins, gaze switching up to your face, already well aware of your impatience from the twitch in your hips.

"Okay, baby, we will," He promises. Then he nods to behind you, "Lay back if you want."

Then he sinks to his knees, bringing his face aligned with your hot cunt. Your tummy warms, your hole clenching around nothing again, as what he wants dawns on you. Your hands stumble back, letting you lean back a bit, but your eyes stay glued to your boyfriend.

The air is thick with heat. Cicadas sing in the background, through the open door. You can't hear anything but your heartbeat.

Steve looks like a goddamn angel, on his knees between your legs, and something keens inside you when he uses both thumbs to spread your silky folds �� then he leans forward and begins to lap softly at your clit.

A shuddering gasp is pulled from your mouth instantly. "Oh fuck," You whisper, already fighting against closing your eyes.

A heady warm pleasure beginning to drizzle through your core. Steve's tongue is warm, the way he's spread you giving him access to a thousand more nerves. You fall into heaving breaths as you try to keep up.

Steve licks, tongue flat, tortuously slow against you, gentle in a way that makes it hard to chase. It's a buzz of pleasure you can sink into, but it's almost... teasing.

"Steve," You whine his name again.

Steve moans in response, the hum of it against your clit friction enough to make you squeak. Your elbow buckles and you let yourself lower down to rest on them—it'll hurt like hell later but for now, nothing matter more than Steve's mouth between your thighs.

One of his hands shifts, the thumb moving from where its holding you open, down, down, til it rests near your entrance.

You clench unwittingly, hips tilting up, trying to clue him in. A whimper slips through your teeth — and you get another moan against your cunt in response.

But if Steve gets your hint, he doesn't show it. His thumb only moves to rest over your hole, beginning to draw slick circles, taunting you wickedly.

The combination of his lapping tongue and feathersoft touches are maddening. Your stomach burns hotly. Your hips twitch again. Your chest heaves, desperate noises warbling from your mouth. You're burning up from inside, tortured from the waves of soft pleasure driving into you.

"Steve," You whimper his name again, suddenly desperate for more. You want his fingers sinking in you, crooking and finding that spot he knows so well. You want the filthy suckle of his mouth, twisting his tongue over your clit in a way he's done before.

All your pleas come out in a stilted, jagged moan, "St— Steve, please, oh fuck, please—"

"Sh, sh," Pleasure tapers off as Steve pulls back to hush you, the thumb over your entrance still circling, pressing ever so slightly from time to time. "It's fun, isn't it? You're having fun?"

You're nodding quickly, not wanting him to stop, and he resumes his lapping, his other thumb shifting to ensure the hood of your clit is lifted.

You moan, languid and pitiful, as the same flow of pleasure begins — a drip, drip, drip, that feels amazing but not enough to satisfy.

You're not sure how long it goes on like that.

The stroke of Steve's tongue, relaxed and slow, continues whilst you squirm on the counter, leaking wetness onto his teasing thumb. It feels like hours, though you know it's realistically closer to barely twenty minutes.

All you know is at some point, the drip fills the bucket.

It'd been building so long you hadn't noticed — that at some point your pleasure, agitated enough in small amounts, over and over, was still working towards going on the edge.

You tense, shallow pants suddenly heaving your chest, your head thrown back and your back arching. Steve is the same, keeping his soft licks and gentle touches, and you writhe as the blazing feeling mounts.

"Steve," You mewl pathetically.

The next lick will be the one that does it. It has to be. You can't keep building.

The pleasure singes in your gut, Steve's tongue pushing over your clit, and it's not enough.

"S-Steve, please, pleasepleaseplease," Your voice sounds wrecked. "Just— c'mon- I'm— please—" You sound truly desperate.

Steve moans against you, low and hot, and he finally, finally pushes his thumb forward, sinking into the slickness easily. Clenching around it immediately, a flame zips up your spine, sending the bucket tipping over completely.

Pleasure melts over you, hot and fiery, and you make a high-pitched gaspy noise that Steve will undoubtedly call adorable later. For now, he works you through the orgasm dotingly.

Using one hand, he keeps your hips pinned to the counter while the other toys with your fluttering, gushing hole. You moan pathetically, hips working furiously against Steve's hold futilely.

His tongue keeps the same soft laps the whole time.

Eventually, you have to tap his forehead to get him to stop, when the pleasure fades off and you begin to near overstimulation.

Steve pulls back slowly, almost reluctantly. His face is pink, his lips sheened in your arousal, pulled in a smirk.

"Fun, right?" He asks. His voice is gravelly from underuse and you swallow back the desire it sends through you. You're still panting, still trying to catch your breath. You nod, knowing Steve wants the feedback, wants to know he's done well.

"Why stop then? Don't you wanna keep having fun?"

Your eyes snap back to him, focused now, as you realise no that is not what Steve was asking for.

You watch as his head lowers back down, then he slowly resumes the kitten-licks to you clit. His hungry eyes stay fixed on yours, taking in every twitch of your overstimulated body with a soft groan.

You realise, pleasure bleeding in through the overstimulation, that you'll let him do it over again.

You take his advice this time and lie all the way back.

come join the celebration <3

#this one 😌☝️#im quite proud of. as i think its HAWT #STEVE MUNCH! STEVE MUNCH! STEVE MUNCH!#get that counter sanitized STAT tho lol #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #jay's 3k celebration #jay writes #steve x reader smut #steve harrington imagine #THANKS FOR SENDING ONE!!! MWAH

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nereidprinc3ss · 1 year ago

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light of the morning

in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs

It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers.

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door.

"Hi."

"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this.

You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door.

"Did I wake you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"

"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."

He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.

You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth.

"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."

His eyebrows dart up.

"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"

When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it.

"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"

His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"

"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."

You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety.

"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.

He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."

It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement.

"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"

"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."

You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care.

"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."

Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves.

You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone.

"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"

"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you.

"Spencer."

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are.

"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."

He looses a nervous laugh.

"I know. We’ve just never really done this."

You frown at the darkness.

"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but… this feels different."

That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex?

Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours.

"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly.

"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it.

"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.

"Can I…"

"Yeah."

Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now.

He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it.

"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt.

"Goodnight," he whispers back.

You fall asleep pretty quickly after that.

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It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.

Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache.

But you’re just friends.

Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away.

"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep.

"Five."

"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."

"Sometimes waking up early is okay."

His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—

He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt.

Friends.

"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep."

The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.

"No? What do you want?"

Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer.

The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.

So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?

Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips.

"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"

"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"

You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away.

Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words.

"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing.

"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"

He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words.

You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you.

"It’s fine. Thank you."

He continues chewing on his lip for a moment.

"Did I just ruin the mood?"

"No," you laugh, "not at all."

"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again.

"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses.

He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck.

"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"

"Kind of," you breathe.

"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."

Well, he’s not wrong there.

You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later.

You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you.

Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you.

Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum.

"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."

"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders.

"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs.

You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans.

"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want.

He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close.

"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course.

He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty.

You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway.

When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently.

"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."

You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt.

You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about.

"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further.

"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway.

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Doubtful."

You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know.

"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"

It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words.

"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks.

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."

He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you.

"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation.

"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."

"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way.

"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."

You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.

"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut.

"Only for you."

Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating.

"Only me?"

You moan an affirmation.

"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."

"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"

He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit.

You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing.

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes.

You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet.

"You okay?"

All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb.

"Need your words, angel girl."

"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing.

"Yeah? Why so quiet?"

But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter.

"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck.

"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."

"An hour."

He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you.

"I said 48 minutes."

But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut

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shy9-29 · 16 days ago

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Secretly Yours ☆ 박종성

“academic rivals to lovers” - enhypen campus series

☆ Forced to be rivals in the classroom, you never expected to fall for Jay—the one guy your best friend swore you should never trust. ✉️ wc. 11.3k ⚠️ tw. swearing, bullying, teasing, name calling, third wheeling 💔 false runors 📝: this is honeslty so cute and 4/7 of the members are done! let me know if you would like to be tagged for Jungwon’s trope as I will be writing his next. 박종성 x f reader

🏷️ @starniras @dearestdreamie @tkooooop @xuevkim @deluluscenarios @starboy-library @melodiessvy @steddie-steddie @i-am-not-dal @nct-sticker-127 @elimelbe @wonbinceps

It was a typical Tuesday lunch, and yet, you were finding yourself struggling to swallow the lump in your throat as you sat across from Heeseung and his girlfriend. They were laughing, teasing each other, their smiles easy and natural, as if they were the only two people in the world. You couldn’t help but feel like a third wheel—no, not just a third wheel. You were a joke third wheel, the one that could only sit in silence and watch as your best friend basked in the comfortable glow of a relationship you’d never quite understood.

Sure, you’d been friends with Heeseung for years, but watching him and his girlfriend together, this… thing between them that was so tangible, yet so fragile, made you realize just how much things had changed. You’d heard the rumors, of course. Everyone had. Heeseung and his girlfriend were that couple—perfect for each other one minute, toxic the next. Always breaking up and making up, but never really fixing anything. Every time they fought, Heeseung would storm to you afterward, venting about how his girlfriend wasn’t understanding him or how she’d said something hurtful. But when the storm passed, he’d always go back to her, and you’d be left standing in the middle, a supporting role, a listener—but never more.

And you never caught feelings for him. You knew better. Heeseung was your childhood best friend, the guy you grew up with, the guy who knew all your secrets, and vice versa. He was like a brother to you, and you couldn’t ever imagine crossing that line. And Heeseung? He never gave you a second thought in that way. He had his girlfriend, and you had your quiet corner of the world, content with your own space.

But now, you were sitting across from them, trying to smile through the awkwardness, pretending you weren’t hurt by the distance that had grown between you two over the years. It wasn’t even about the relationship itself, not really—it was about the way things had changed. Heeseung didn’t come to you as often anymore, and when he did, it was usually because he was angry or upset about something. And you were fine with that—until today.

“So,” Heeseung started, glancing over at you with a tired look in his eyes, “you know that dickhead, Jay, right?”

You nodded, taking a bite of your salad, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

“I’m still pissed at him,” Heeseung continued, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t care how much time has passed—what he did to me and her… I’m never going to forgive him.” He stabbed his fork into his pasta a little too aggressively, and you couldn’t help but notice the bitterness in his tone. “He kissed my girlfriend. And not just once. Twice.”

You frowned, looking between Heeseung and his girlfriend, who was sitting next to him, quietly fiddling with her phone. She didn’t seem as riled up about it as Heeseung was. In fact, she looked a little… resigned.

“Relax, Heeseung,” she chimed in, her voice softer, almost pleading. “That was a long time ago. Can’t you just forgive him already?”

Heeseung shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line. “I can’t. I just can’t. Not after everything. I don’t trust him, and I never will.”

You were quiet for a moment, staring into your food, lost in thought. You hadn’t even met Jay in person, but you knew enough about him from Heeseung’s rants—how he’d screwed up everything by kissing Heeseung’s girlfriend, how he was always getting under Heeseung’s skin with his cocky attitude. You didn’t know Jay well, but you couldn’t help but feel a grudge against him, too. Heeseung had always been there for you, and now, it was your turn to have his back.

You glanced at Heeseung’s girlfriend. “I get it. He messed up. But if he’s really your friend, don’t you think you should at least try to move on? I mean, holding onto it forever—”

“I can’t.” Heeseung’s voice was final, cutting you off. “I won’t. I’ve tried, believe me, but it just eats at me every time I think about it. I can’t just forget.”

You stayed silent, unsure how to respond. It wasn’t your place to intervene. You had your own tangled mess of emotions, but you kept them locked away. The last thing Heeseung needed right now was for you to add to his frustrations.

At that moment, the door to the cafeteria swung open, and in walked Sunghoon and his girlfriend. Sunghoon was always the quiet one—the kind of guy who would sit back and observe everything with a detached calmness that almost seemed unnatural. He was an introvert, a man of few words, but when he did speak, it carried weight. His girlfriend, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. She was loud, energetic, and always talking, often dragging Sunghoon along in whatever conversation she had going.

They sat down next to you, and Sunghoon’s girlfriend immediately leaned forward, her smile wide and playful. “Hey guys!” she greeted before turning her gaze to you. “So, what do you think about Jay, babe?”

You nearly choked on your food. You had no idea what Sunghoon thought about Jay—none of you really did. He was the kind of guy who kept his opinions close to his chest. He wasn’t the type to engage in petty drama or gossip.

Sunghoon just shrugged, his gaze flicking to Heeseung for a second before returning to his girlfriend. “He’s whatever,” he said quietly, his voice neutral, as though the whole Jay situation didn’t even register. “Not my problem.”

His girlfriend rolled her eyes with a laugh. “You’re so boring, Sunghoon.”

But even as his girlfriend playfully teased him, you couldn’t help but feel that pull again—the strange dynamic that seemed to always exist between you, Heeseung, and now Jay.

You glanced over at Heeseung, who was staring at Sunghoon with a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. It was a mix of annoyance, jealousy, and maybe, just maybe, something else.

But you didn’t have time to analyze it. Because you knew, no matter what, the tension was building, and soon enough, you’d be caught in the middle of it all

And what scared you most? You didn’t know if you’d be able to get out of it.

You sat back in your chair, staring at the two couples in front of you. Heeseung and his girlfriend were whispering something to each other, their heads close together, their hands brushing occasionally as if the world didn’t exist beyond their bubble. And then there was Sunghoon and his girlfriend, chatting away animatedly, with Sunghoon’s quiet presence in the background, nodding occasionally as she continued her endless chatter.

You felt a pang in your chest, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. You were surrounded by couples. Two of them, in fact—both of which seemed so… effortlessly happy, wrapped up in their own little worlds. And then there was you. Sitting alone at the table, a third wheel, no partner to distract you from the uncomfortable silence.

You groaned, dropping your forehead onto your arms. “Oh my god, I feel so single,” you muttered, the words escaping before you could stop them. You couldn’t help it. The jealousy, the loneliness—it was starting to eat at you, just a little bit.

Heeseung didn’t seem to notice, too absorbed in his conversation with his girlfriend. Sunghoon’s girlfriend, however, let out a laugh, glancing at you with a teasing smile. “You’re totally single, huh?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t it fun?”

You glared at her, rolling your eyes dramatically. “Yeah, so much fun,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Can’t wait to be the eternal third wheel.”

“You’re not eternal,” Sunghoon’s girlfriend said with a wink. “You’re just waiting for the right person to come along.”

You glanced at her, unimpressed. “If the right person is anything like Heeseung or Jay, I’ll pass.”

At that, Sunghoon let out a quiet chuckle, and even Heeseung’s girlfriend smiled softly. But the moment quickly passed, and you were left with the same feeling—surrounded by people who had someone to lean on, while you were left to sit with the emptiness.

It wasn’t that you were against being single, but today, right now, it stung just a little more than usual. The couples’ laughter and shared glances were like a reminder of what you didn’t have. And that reminder was just too loud in the middle of this lunch.

You sat up, trying to shake off the bitter feeling settling in your chest. “Alright, alright, I’m not that dramatic. It’s just… you know…” You trailed off, hoping to change the subject.

Sunghoon’s girlfriend shot you a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Just enjoy your food. And if it helps, I can always hook you up with some of my friends.” She gave you a mischievous grin, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

You smiled weakly but couldn’t quite shake off that feeling of being an outsider, watching the world go by in pairs.

It was much later in the evening when you found yourself sprawled across your shared dorm bed, dramatically burying your face in a pillow as the weight of the day’s fifth-wheeling trauma crashed over you all over again.

“I need someone so bad,” you groaned, voice muffled by the fabric. “Like, genuinely. I was fifth wheeling earlier today, Sunoo. Fifth. That’s not even normal. That’s just disrespectful.”

Sunoo, your roommate and longtime partner-in-chaos, glanced up from his skincare routine, dabbing toner gently onto his cheeks. “Honestly? I think it’s kind of iconic. Like, you’re the main character surrounded by background couples. It’s giving ‘independent baddie who doesn’t need a man.’ Very inspiring.”

You lifted your head to glare at him. “Inspiring? My entire lunch was a rom-com montage minus the actual romance. Heeseung and his girlfriend were being all cute and annoying, Sunghoon’s girlfriend was feeding him fries while he looked like he was contemplating the meaning of life, and I was there… chewing sad lettuce.”

Sunoo stifled a laugh. “Sad lettuce is such a vibe though.”

You dropped your head back onto the pillow. “I’m not joking, I actually feel like I’m gonna rot away as the token single friend.”

“Please,” Sunoo scoffed, moving to sit on the edge of your bed, legs crossed neatly. “Relationship stuff is so overrated. Love? Dumb. People? Dumber. You know Jake and his girlfriend? I still don’t understand how she took him back after that whole mess.”

You lifted a brow, glancing up at him. “What mess?”

Sunoo gave you a look like girl, where have you been?

“You don’t remember? Back when Jake and Jay had that idiotic bet—the bet?” He rolled his eyes and clasped his hands together mockingly. “Make her fall for me in a week or whatever.”

You blinked. “Wait. What?”

“Yeah,” Sunoo said, lips curling into a smirk like he’d been dying to spill the tea. “This was way back, before Jake actually caught feelings. But it was real. Him and Jay thought it would be ‘fun’ to bet on who could get someone to fall for them faster. Jake picked his now-girlfriend, and Jay picked some other girl from our econ class—Soobin, I think? Anyway, Jake actually started falling for her mid-bet and had a whole breakdown over it. Jay? I don’t even know what happened with his half. He’s a mystery.”

You sat up, your expression stunned. “So Jay actually did that?”

Sunoo nodded. “Mhm. He never really talked about it after. Most people forgot, but I didn’t. I don’t forget stuff like that.”

Your nose scrunched. “Ew. That’s actually disgusting.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Sunoo sighed. “Like, love is not a game, babe. These guys out here are not serious.”

You chewed on your lip, letting the information settle. The grudge you already had toward Jay—planted by Heeseung and watered by years of side comments—suddenly felt validated. You didn’t know Jay personally, but from what you’d seen and heard, he was just another cocky guy who probably thought every girl wanted him. And now, knowing he made a bet like that? Your opinion of him sank even lower.

Still, a part of you was curious. Why did people still talk about him like there was more to the story? Why did Jake—arguably reformed—still hang around him? And why did you keep hearing Jay’s name pop up lately like he was some inevitable storm you were supposed to run into?

“So,” you said slowly, casually lying back down and folding your arms behind your head. “What do you think about Jay?”

Sunoo raised a brow, turning his head toward you like he was trying to figure out if you were joking. “Jay?”

You nodded.

“Honestly? I think he’s one of those guys who pretends not to care but lowkey cares a lot. Too much, maybe. He’s hot, I’ll give him that—but emotionally? Questionable. Like, he’s the kind of guy who’d flirt with you at 2 a.m. and then act like it never happened the next day. A walking green flag wrapped in red ribbon.”

You laughed, and Sunoo joined in, shaking his head.

“But,” he added, pointing a finger at you dramatically, “don’t let the face fool you. Pretty doesn’t mean trustworthy. Especially with Jay.”

You weren’t planning on letting it fool you.

At least, not yet.

It started with an eye roll.

Jay had made some snide remark about how your thesis summary lacked depth—depth, of all things—and you had to physically stop yourself from lobbing your pen across the lecture hall. You turned to him with the tightest smile you could manage and replied, “Right. Because the guy who spelled ‘Nietzsche’ wrong three times during last week’s debate is suddenly the standard.”

The professor chuckled like he was watching his favorite sitcom unfold. The rest of the class watched with that usual amused tension—the kind reserved for two people who were one sarcastic comment away from either ripping each other’s heads off or ripping each other’s clothes off. You refused to entertain the second option.

Jay was your academic rival. Has been since semester one. He was cocky, smart, and unfortunately, good-looking in a way that made your life more difficult than it needed to be. Every paper you aced, he had to beat by 0.5%. Every time you raised your hand, he’d follow with a rebuttal. You lived to make him eat his words. And from the smug way he smirked every time you got fired up, you knew he lived for it too.

Which is why when Professor Kim announced the University-Wide Academic Challenge, it wasn’t even a question who your competition would be.

And because the universe had a twisted sense of humor, they paired you with Jay for the regional prep rounds. As partners.

“I’ll drop out,” you told Sunoo dramatically that night. “I’ll pack my bags and transfer. I’ll fake my death and become a poet in the mountains before I partner with him.”

Sunoo had just blinked at you and said, “You’re so dramatic. Just destroy him with your intellect like usual.”

But it didn’t stop there. After a few forced library sessions and hours of silent research, the tension between you and Jay reached a boiling point. That’s when the bet happened.

“If I win,” you’d said, eyes narrowed, “you carry my bag, grab my coffee, and walk two steps behind me for a week.”

He had leaned forward, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And if I win, you do the same.”

“And wear a ‘Jay is smarter than me’ sticker.”

“Deal.”

You shook on it like two enemies sealing their fates.

The week leading up to the challenge was ruthless. Debates in lecture halls, snarky notes left in shared textbooks, accidental shoulder bumps in the hallway that were never really accidental. You hated how good he was at keeping up with you. You hated even more that he made it feel… fun.

But after the results came in—after you tied, somehow, impossibly—you both stood outside the library, blinking in disbelief.

“Rematch?” he’d asked.

You tilted your head. “Or we just… call it even.”

He raised a brow. “Truce?”

You nodded slowly. “Truce.”

That truce, as it turned out, involved a lot of late-night study sessions. Whispered insults that started sounding like inside jokes. Accidental brushes of fingers that neither of you pulled away from. And eventually—somewhere between quiz prep and coffee runs—you kissed him.

The secrecy started right then. Because if Heeseung ever found out you were sneaking around with Jay—the same Jay he despised for “making out with his girlfriend twice”—he’d lose his mind. He’d call it betrayal. And you… you didn’t want to lose Heeseung either.

So you and Jay kept it quiet. A little rebellion, tucked between stacks of books and whispered under breathless kisses in quiet hallways.

You didn’t mean for it to become something real. But then again, you never expected him to look at you like that. Like you weren’t just his rival—but something else entirely.

And because you’d been spending a lot more time with him lately—strictly because of competition, of course, and not because of the way he furrowed his brows when he was focused or the way he actually listened when you spoke—you found yourself getting… curious. Against your better judgment.

You still hated him. That hadn’t changed. He was still Jay Park, your so-called academic nemesis, the cocky know-it-all who had allegedly kissed Heeseung’s girlfriend twice and made a game out of breaking girls’ hearts with Jake. Sunoo told you he was a walking red flag in designer sneakers. Heeseung said he was a traitor, a manipulator, a snake.

But… he also carried your books without asking last week. And when you fell asleep over your notes during one of your 2 a.m. study grinds, you woke up to find a neatly scribbled list of everything you missed—and a cup of hot chocolate, extra whipped cream, just how you liked it.

So yeah. You were confused. Just enough to want a second opinion.

You spotted him by the vending machine near the economics building, fiddling with the coin slot and humming some offbeat tune under his breath. Jake Sim. Jay’s best friend. The one person who might actually give you answers.

You inhaled sharply and walked up to him, half-regretting it before you even opened your mouth.

“Hi,” you started, awkwardly. “You probably don’t know me, but I know you, and this might seem kind of weird but—”

Jake turned to you with a crooked grin, eyes lighting up. “Oh, I know you.”

You blinked. “You do?”

He nodded. “You’re the girl.”

“What girl?”

“The one Jay’s always ranting about,” Jake said casually, like he wasn’t just detonating a bomb inside your chest. “The academic rival. The one who talks fast when she’s annoyed and refuses to take help on joint projects.”

You stared at him.

Jake just chuckled. “Yeah. He’s talked about you. A lot.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. “Right. Cool. Um… that’s not why I’m here though.”

Jake leaned against the vending machine, still smiling like he had front row seats to your mental breakdown. “Go on.”

“I… wanted to ask you something about Jay,” you said carefully, choosing each word like it was a live wire. “Just… some things I’ve heard.”

Jake raised a brow. “Let me guess. The bet thing? And the drama with Heeseung’s girl?”

You gave a cautious nod.

Jake sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Man, people don’t let that stuff go. Yeah, the bet was real. But it was forever ago, and he pulled out of it almost immediately. He felt bad about it. Still does, I think.”

You chewed your lip. “And the other thing?”

“The kiss?” Jake nodded. “It happened once, and it wasn’t what everyone made it out to be. She kissed him, technically. But it was before her and Heeseung were even together. Jay didn’t even know they were a thing yet.”

You didn’t say anything, trying to make sense of it all—trying to balance what you’d been told for months against the guy who now held open doors for you and left sticky notes with passive-aggressive compliments on your notebooks.

Jake tilted his head, watching you. “You like him, don’t you?”

Your eyes snapped up. “What? No.”

He grinned. “You do.”

“I hate him.”

“Sure you do,” he said, clearly not convinced. “That’s why you’re out here asking his best friend for the whole story.”

You crossed your arms, feeling caught.

Jake just laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell him.”

You shook your head, muttering something about this being a bad idea as you turned to leave, but you didn’t miss the way Jake called after you with a teasing lilt in his voice.

“He likes you too, you know.”

Jay won.

By half a point.

You stared at the scoreboard like it had personally betrayed you, your mouth slightly open, the air sucked right out of your lungs. Half a damn point.

Jay, standing just a few feet away with his stupid perfect posture and that smug little smirk, turned to you slowly, like he’d been waiting for this moment since the second you made the bet.

“Guess that makes you my servant for the week, huh?” he said, hands in his pockets, tone smooth as ever.

You rolled your eyes and shoved your notebook into your bag with more force than necessary. “You cheated.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then you bribed someone.”

Jay grinned, tilting his head. “Maybe I’m just smarter than you.”

You scoffed. “You’re not.”

“Then what does that say about you, loser?”

You almost threw your pen at him.

Almost.

But you didn’t, because that would be too obvious. Instead, you threw him a sharp glare and marched past him—only for him to fall into step beside you like he belonged there.

“You gonna carry my bag to class tomorrow?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

“Go to hell.”

“I thought we were already there. Seoul U, midterm season, and you owe me coffee for a week? Sounds like hell to me.”

You hated him. You should’ve hated him.

But you didn’t miss the way he was biting back a smile, or how he didn’t actually push it any further. Didn’t gloat. Just walked beside you, shoulder brushing yours every few steps like he’d forgotten you were supposed to be rivals.

God, you were so screwed.

You found Heeseung outside the library, hunched over his phone with earbuds in, tapping at his screen like the world was on fire. He looked up when you called his name, one brow raised as you approached.

“Hey,” you said, clutching the strap of your bag a little tighter. “Can we talk?”

Heeseung pulled out an earbud, eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s up?”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to start anything, but this was already eating away at you. The more time you spent with Jay—forced time, of course—the more those stories didn’t line up. He wasn’t half as bad as everyone made him out to be. In fact… he was kind of the opposite.

“Are you sure Jay’s really that bad?” you asked, quietly.

Heeseung straightened, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to react too fast. “Seriously?”

You nodded. “I just—Jake told me he felt super bad about the whole bet thing. Like he didn’t even go through with it. And the thing with your girlfriend? He said she kissed him. Not the other way around.”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened. “Yeah, well, of course Jake would say that. They’re best friends.”

“I’m just saying,” you pressed, “what if it wasn’t how you remember it? Maybe Jay’s not—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, tone sharper than usual. “Don’t let him get to you, Y/N.”

You blinked.

He scoffed, standing and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Guys like him? They’re good at making people feel like they’re the victim. That’s how they work. He’ll play sweet, act like he’s changed, make you question everyone else—and then the second you trust him, he’ll flip it.”

“He hasn’t done anything to me.”

“Yet.” Heeseung’s eyes locked onto yours, voice low. “Just be careful. You don’t know him like I do.”

You swallowed hard, nodding slowly, but something inside you twisted at the way he said it. Like you weren’t allowed to find things out for yourself. Like he had to be right.

But… the thing was?

A part of you wasn’t so sure anymore.

The next day was actual hell.

You should’ve known Jay would milk the “servant” thing for everything it was worth—but still, nothing could’ve prepared you for how absolutely insufferable he was about it.

“Y/N, can you carry my bag?”

“Y/N, I’m thirsty. You know my order.”

“Y/N, I dropped my pen—oh, oops. Guess you better pick it up.”

It was like every five minutes he found a new way to get under your skin. And the worst part? He didn’t even need the help. You were ninety-nine percent sure he only asked just to see how long it would take for you to snap.

By day four, you were a ticking time bomb.

You were both walking down the hallway after study group, and Jay had just asked you—again—to grab his charger from the common room because he “forgot it,” even though it was very clearly hanging out of his bag.

You whipped around to face him, nearly knocking into his chest. “Do you enjoy watching me slowly lose my mind? Is that it? Is this fun for you?”

Jay blinked at you, clearly trying not to laugh. “Kind of.”

“Unbelievable,” you huffed, arms flailing a little as the rant bubbled up. “I’m starting to think you only won on purpose just to torture me—like some twisted revenge arc. What kind of narcissist actually makes someone fetch their charger—”

And then he kissed you.

Mid-rant. Mid-gesture. Mid-sentence.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was bold and sudden and shut you up instantly, your breath caught between the syllable you were about to say and the warmth of his mouth on yours.

You froze, hands still hovering stupidly in the air.

Jay pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, “God, you talk so much.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, cheeks flushed.

And he just stood there—completely unaffected—like kissing you in the middle of a hallway was totally normal. Like your heart wasn’t pounding loud enough to drown out every rational thought.

“You—” You opened your mouth.

Jay grinned. “Still talking.”

You almost shoved him.

Almost.

Sunghoon wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. He never was.

But he had a way of being in the right place at the right time, or maybe the wrong place, depending on how you looked at it. And when he turned the corner of the hallway that afternoon, a quiet observer like always, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you—mouth still pressed to Jay’s, your fingers curled in surprise around the strap of your bag.

He blinked once. Then twice.

Then, without a word, he turned and walked the other way.

Fifteen minutes later, he found his girlfriend standing outside the campus café, talking animatedly to her friend Stella about nail polish or hair gloss or something equally detailed. They barely noticed him until he slipped in beside them, calm as ever.

“Y/N and Jay kissed,” he said, like he was stating the weather.

Both girls gasped so loud half the quad probably heard.

His girlfriend whipped around to face him, eyes wide. “What?! Since when were you into gossip?”

He just shrugged, gaze flickering toward the library. “I saw it. Just now.”

Stella smacked his girlfriend’s arm. “Didn’t you say she hated him?”

“I did,” she breathed, already pulling out her phone like it would give her the rest of the story. “What the hell—?”

But Sunghoon leaned forward, kissed her cheek gently, and started walking away.

“Wait—where are you going?” she called after him.

“Library,” he said over his shoulder.

Because of course he was. Of course Sunghoon dropped a bomb and just casually strolled off to study like he hadn’t just flipped your entire social circle upside down.

Sunghoon was already at his usual study spot in the library when you arrived, clutching your bag a little too tightly as you scanned the rows of bookshelves like you were on some sort of secret mission.

He raised an eyebrow as you walked in, obviously distracted, your eyes darting around the room. You were definitely not here to study. The fact that you had only been in the library for a few seconds and your gaze had already flitted past the tables where students were hard at work said it all.

You weren’t here for Heeseung. Not at all.

Sunghoon didn’t miss a beat. He leaned back in his chair, watching you for a second, before sliding his glasses down his nose slightly and giving you a small smirk. “Hey, Y/N. What’s up?”

You jolted slightly, surprised to see him so casually lounging there. You shot him an awkward smile and then immediately tried to cover it up with a defensive shrug. “Oh, nothing. I’m just… uh, here to give Heeseung something,” you said, voice a little too high-pitched, almost like you were trying to convince yourself of your own words.

Sunghoon didn’t look convinced. He tilted his head slightly, studying you with a small, knowing smile. “Are you sure you’re here for Heeseung?”

Your heart skipped. “Yeah, of course,” you said too quickly, glancing nervously around the library again. “I mean, I just… I need to give him this thing and—”

“You sure?” Sunghoon interrupted, pushing his chair back just a little, his tone shifting slightly to something almost teasing. He didn’t buy it. “Because Jay’s in the cafeteria. Right now. Just thought you’d want to know.”

You froze. For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped. Your eyes widened before you quickly looked away, trying to hide the obvious flustered blush creeping up your neck. “I—” You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to straighten up. “I wasn’t looking for him,” you muttered, biting your lip.

Sunghoon didn’t say much after that, just shrugged casually and hummed a little tune under his breath as he pushed his chair back and stood up. His expression was unreadable, his quiet demeanor leaving you with an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Without another word, he simply smiled, offering a half-hearted wave as he walked past you.

You watched him go, unsure of what to make of the interaction. It was classic Sunghoon—quiet, observant, and always somehow getting under your skin without even trying.

You couldn’t stand how he could so easily see through you.

With a frustrated sigh, you picked up your bag and made your way out of the library, heading toward the cafeteria where you knew Jay would be. Even though your heart was pounding and your mind was spinning with confusion, you couldn’t stop yourself. You had to see him.

The thought of Heeseung’s warning echoed in your mind, but you pushed it aside. Sunghoon was right about one thing—things were already chaotic. Maybe this was the only way to make sense of it all.

You tried to calm your nerves as you walked to the cafeteria, but the closer you got, the harder it became to shake the doubt gnawing at you. Would you find the answers you were looking for, or would this just be another mess to clean up later?

When you stepped into the cafeteria, the noise hit you immediately—students chatting, trays clattering, the low hum of conversation filling the air. But despite all the noise, your eyes immediately zeroed in on Jay, sitting at one of the tables by the window, his usual carefree smile on his face as he joked around with his friends.

Your stomach flipped.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were both relieved and anxious at the same time. He looked just as he always did—easygoing, confident, and annoyingly charming. The problem was, now you knew him differently. The things you’d heard, the things you’d seen—it was hard to look at him the same way.

You took a deep breath and walked towards him, trying to shake off the tension in your shoulders. As you got closer, you saw Jay’s head turn just as he noticed you.

His eyes lit up when he saw you, and despite the complicated mess you two had become, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth at the sight of him. He gave you a lazy grin, pushing his chair back and standing up in one smooth motion.

“Y/N,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth, like he wasn’t the least bit phased by the tension hanging between you two. “What’s up?”

You barely kept your expression neutral. “I need to talk to you.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, glancing at the empty seat across from him, then back at you. “Come on, sit down. You don’t look like you’re here to discuss world peace. I’m guessing you’re looking for something else.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. It felt weird being this close to him again, feeling the electricity between you like it was the first time you’d ever been in his orbit. Everything about this felt wrong. But you had to do it.

Sitting down, you met his gaze directly. “I’m not here to cause any more trouble. I just… need to know what’s going on between us.”

Jay tilted his head, his easygoing expression faltering slightly. He leaned forward, one arm on the table as if he was genuinely interested. “What do you mean? Between us?” His voice softened, and for a second, you could see the shift in him. It was subtle, but it was there.

You clenched your hands together on the table, trying to steady yourself. “You know what I mean, Jay. All of this—the bet, the confusion… what’s real and what’s not?”

Jay leaned back in his chair, the carefree smile from earlier slipping away, replaced by something more serious. “You still don’t trust me, huh?”

You swallowed, the words catching in your throat. “It’s not that. It’s just… I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. When he finally spoke, his tone was different—he was no longer the cocky guy you used to know, but someone who seemed oddly vulnerable.

“Look,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I get it. Everything I did, everything I said—it was wrong. But I’m not that guy anymore, Y/N. I’ve changed. I care about you. I don’t want to mess this up.”

Your heart raced in your chest. You wanted to believe him. You really did. But the part of you that was still holding on to the past, to the version of Jay that Heeseung had painted, kept pushing those thoughts aside.

“I don’t know, Jay. It’s just… hard. You and I? We don’t mix well,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jay’s expression flickered. “I’m not asking for things to be perfect. I just want a chance, Y/N. A real one.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air between you, and for a split second, it felt like you were both on the same page—like everything that had happened before didn’t matter. But then, like a flash of lightning, the reminder of everything that had happened came rushing back.

You shook your head, pulling yourself back. “I can’t just forget all of it, Jay. It’s not that simple.”

Jay leaned in closer, his gaze intense. “I’m not asking you to forget. Just… don’t hold me to who I was.”

Your chest tightened. You were torn between everything you wanted and everything you feared.

“I’m still figuring it out,” you admitted, the vulnerability in your voice surprising even yourself. “But I’m not sure I’m ready for this… whatever this is.”

Jay didn’t respond right away. He just nodded slowly, like he understood, but there was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “I get it. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

You wanted to say more, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you just stood up, trying to make your voice steady again.

“I’ll… think about it,” you said, but your tone didn’t sound as sure as you wanted it to. You didn’t know if you were ready for this, but you couldn’t just walk away.

Jay gave you one last look, his smile returning, though it was softer this time. “Take your time.”

As you walked away, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. What did this all mean? What would Heeseung say? Would Jay really change, or was this just another game to him? You didn’t have the answers. Not yet. But for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure who you were supposed to be angry at anymore.

The days that followed were a whirlwind. You and Jay decided to keep things under wraps—something about the secrecy added a layer of excitement, even though it made everything feel a little more complicated. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Heeseung, not yet. The thought of his reaction made your stomach twist in knots. But with Jay, it was easy. Easier than you expected. He was surprisingly attentive when you needed him to be, remembering little details about you that Heeseung and others had long forgotten.

Jay was still Jay, cocky and smooth-talking, but there were moments where he’d let his guard down. The way he’d walk you to class, his hand brushing against yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The way he’d drop a joke here and there, making you laugh when you needed it most. You never thought you’d say it, but Jay wasn’t the player you thought he was—well, not all the time anyway.

Of course, he was still a bit of a show-off. You could never really take him seriously when he’d lean against the doorframe of your dorm, smirking, saying things like, “You know, I’m way too good-looking to be keeping this a secret.”

You would roll your eyes, trying to suppress your grin. “Yeah, you’re such a mystery.”

He’d chuckle, that cocky smirk still glued to his face. “I know, I know. You’re welcome.”

But underneath the bravado, he was kind, listening to you vent about your day, cracking jokes just to make you smile. For the first time, you felt like maybe this whole secret thing wasn’t so bad. But that didn’t mean you didn’t have doubts. It was all so new, and despite everything, there was still a little voice in the back of your mind reminding you of how messy things could get.

You weren’t the only one who had doubts, though. Your first real step in sharing this secret came one night when you were sitting in your dorm room, staring at your phone. Sunoo, always seemed to know everything before anyone else, had been eyeing you strangely all week. He’d been quiet, his teasing always bordering on serious.

“Sunoo,” you started, hesitating as he sprawled out on your bed, scrolling through his phone, “I need to tell you something.”

His head snapped up immediately. “Oh?” He raised a brow. “Spill.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m… I’m seeing someone. But it’s secret. And I know it’s weird because—” you paused, running a hand through your hair. “It’s Jay.”

The look on Sunoo’s face was one you’d never seen before. His eyes went wide, his mouth falling open as he blinked rapidly. For a second, he just stared at you, completely silent. Then, as if he couldn’t contain himself any longer, he exploded.

“What?!” he half-yelled, half-laughed, scrambling off your bed and pacing around the room in disbelief. “Hold up, hold up. You’re dating Jay? Jay. The same Jay who—”

“Sunoo, please—” you interrupted, raising a hand to stop him from getting too carried away.

“—the same Jay who practically ruined Heeseung’s life?” He flung his hands up in the air dramatically. “The one you’ve been bashing to me for weeks? And now you’re secretly dating him?”

You sighed, running a hand down your face. “Yes. But it’s not like that, okay? I know what you’re thinking, but things are… different with him. He’s not like he used to be. It’s just—complicated.”

Sunoo was still pacing, clearly trying to wrap his head around it. “Complicated? This is beyond complicated, Y/N! Do you know how much drama this is going to cause? Heeseung is gonna flip. I’m not even talking about how Jay’s gonna react when he finds out that you were hiding this from him. You’re already tangled up in all of this and now you’re—oh my god, why is everything in your life like this?”

You slumped back into your chair, feeling the weight of your decision. “I don’t want to deal with drama. But I like him, Sunoo. And I think he likes me, too. And… honestly, I don’t care what people think. I just wanted to tell you because I can’t keep this to myself anymore.”

Sunoo stopped pacing and stared at you with an intensity that made you shift in your seat. “You really like him, huh?”

You nodded, trying to hold his gaze. “Yeah. It’s… it’s stupid, but I do.”

There was a long pause. Sunoo looked like he was about to explode again, but then he let out a slow breath, sitting down beside you. “Okay. Fine. I’ll let it slide. But seriously—if you get caught, I’m not helping you out of this mess. You’re on your own.” He raised a finger and wagged it at you. “And I’m keeping my distance from all of this. I didn’t sign up for this chaos, alright?”

You chuckled, relieved by the fact that Sunoo wasn’t completely flipping out. “Thanks, Sunoo. I appreciate it. I promise I’ll figure this out.”

He leaned back against the bed with a dramatic sigh. “You’re lucky I’m your best friend. If anyone else tried to pull this, I’d roast them for the rest of their life.”

“Well, I’m lucky to have you, then,” you said with a grin.

Sunoo shot you a look of mock disbelief. “Just promise me one thing,” he said, raising a brow. “If Heeseung finds out and loses his mind, I’m not helping you clean up the mess. You’re on your own with that one.”

You laughed, feeling the stress of it all lighten a little. “Deal.”

Sunoo was known for two things: his impeccable gossip radar and his inability to keep a secret for more than 24 hours. And, of course, the fact that he loved to stir the pot. As soon as you had finished telling him about you and Jay, Sunoo’s mind started racing. He was already formulating what he would tell Heeseung the moment he saw him. He wasn’t going to be able to keep this juicy tidbit to himself, no matter how much you trusted him to stay quiet.

The next day, Heeseung was sitting in the courtyard, casually talking to some friends, but Sunoo could see it—the slightest shift in Heeseung’s posture when he noticed him coming. Heeseung raised an eyebrow as Sunoo approached, a mischievous grin forming on his face.

“You’re looking like you’ve got something to spill, Sunoo,” Heeseung said, his voice light but clearly curious.

Sunoo couldn’t help himself. He sat down next to Heeseung, his eyes practically gleaming with the excitement of what he was about to drop.

“You wouldn’t believe it, man,” Sunoo started, looking around as if to make sure no one else was listening in. “You know how you’ve been all worried about Y/N and Jay, right?”

Heeseung’s expression darkened, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What about them?”

Sunoo leaned in, lowering his voice as if he were telling a state secret. “Well, turns out… they’ve been secretly dating. For, like, a while now.”

Heeseung froze for a second, the weight of Sunoo’s words sinking in. His jaw clenched, and he quickly glanced around, as if making sure no one had overheard the conversation.

“Wait, what?” Heeseung’s voice was quieter, almost a whisper, as if he couldn’t believe it. “How do you know?”

Sunoo, unable to hold back the excitement bubbling inside him, leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, like he was watching a drama unfold. “I’ve got my sources,” he said, winking. “And it’s not just a rumor, Heeseung. They’re actually seeing each other. Y/N told me everything.”

Heeseung stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable, but it was clear the news hit him like a punch to the gut. His face twisted in a mix of disbelief and frustration,and for a moment, it seemed like he might say something, but he stopped himself.

“Y/N would never—” Heeseung started, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt.

“Oh, she would,” Sunoo cut in, nonchalantly. “She’s just keeping it under wraps, like some big secret. But honestly, it makes sense, right? All that tension, all that back and forth between them, it was bound to happen.”

Heeseung stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered, more to himself than to Sunoo. “After everything, she goes behind my back like this?”

Sunoo could feel the anger radiating off Heeseung, and it made him feel a little guilty, but not enough to hold his tongue. “Yeah, it’s a mess, isn’t it? I mean, she’s been going on about how much she hates Jay, but clearly, something changed. Who knows? Maybe it was all that tension, or maybe she just got tired of waiting around. But whatever the case, it’s real. And if you ask me, I think you should be a little more worried about what’s coming next.”

Heeseung looked like he was about to explode. His fists clenched at his sides, and his face was flushed with a mix of confusion and rage. “I—I have to talk to her,” he said, his voice raw.

Sunoo shrugged, not caring that Heeseung was clearly on the verge of losing his cool. “I’m just saying, you might want to figure things out with her before she starts making it official with Jay. Things are already messy enough.”

As Sunoo stood up to leave, he turned to give Heeseung one last look. “You know where to find me if you need more tea,” he teased, before walking away, leaving Heeseung standing there, seething with emotions that were rapidly spiraling out of control.

Sunoo had done his part. Now, it was Heeseung’s turn to deal with the consequences. But something told him this was only the beginning.

You didn’t have to guess who was at the door. The feeling in your stomach told you everything you needed to know. Heeseung.

You stood frozen for a moment before you opened the door slowly, trying to act casual, though the nervous energy in your body betrayed you. There he was, standing at your door, his expression tight with something that looked like anger—and disappointment.

Heeseung glanced at you, then around your room, like he was trying to piece everything together. “What’s going on, Y/N?” His voice was strained, the usual warmth gone. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? Why didn’t you tell me about Jay?”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. You weren’t sure how to answer. You could feel the weight of everything pressing down on you. The truth? Would he even believe you if you told him everything? Or would he just think it was another betrayal?

“Heeseung, I—” You began, but he cut you off, his voice sharp.

“Why, Y/N?” His voice cracked through the tension. “Why did you have to keep this a secret? Why with Jay? After everything?”

You could feel the guilt tearing at you, but you didn’t know what to say. The words were tangled up in your chest, but you knew you couldn’t hold back anymore. “I never meant to hurt you,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You stepped back, leaning against your desk. “But… I don’t know. Things just happened with Jay, and I didn’t know how to handle it. You and I… we’ve always been so complicated, Heeseung. I never wanted to hurt you, I swear. But Jay and I… we’ve been spending time together. It just happened.”

Heeseung’s face hardened, his eyes narrowing at you. “So that’s it, then? You’ve been sneaking around behind my back with him?”

“No, that’s not it at all,” you snapped, finally feeling the frustration bubble to the surface. “I wasn’t sneaking around with anyone. It just… happened, Heeseung. We’ve both been playing these games for so long. And you—” You stopped yourself, realizing you were about to say something you might regret. “And you, you were always going back to her, your girlfriend, every time you fought with her. It was always me picking up the pieces for you. But no matter how much I helped, nothing changed. So… I stopped waiting.”

Heeseung’s face flickered with hurt, but it quickly morphed back into anger. “So you think I’m the one to blame here? You think I made you do this?”

Your voice cracked as you spoke, the frustration you’d been holding onto for so long finally breaking free. “I didn’t say that. But I’m tired, Heeseung. I’m tired of always being the one who’s there when you need someone to pick up the pieces. And I’m tired of holding onto something that’s not there anymore.”

Heeseung didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to say to you right now, Y/N.” His voice was low, almost defeated. “You know… I don’t even know if I can forgive you for this. Not right now.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. Your heart sank as you blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “I don’t need your forgiveness, Heeseung. I’m just trying to do what’s best for me, for once.”

Silence fell between the two of you, thick and suffocating. You wanted to say something, anything to fix it, but you knew deep down that there was nothing you could do. Heeseung turned to leave, but then stopped, his back still to you.

“Do me a favor,” he said, his voice soft, barely audible. “Don’t do something you’ll regret, Y/N. You don’t have to do this. You’ve been so important to me for so long. Please… don’t lose yourself in all of this.”

You stood there, unable to respond. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do. You were already losing yourself, weren’t you? But maybe I’ve already lost him, you thought as you watched him walk away.

The door clicked shut behind him, but the echo of his words rang louder than anything else. You stood there in your room, motionless, heart racing and chest tight like it was wrapped in barbed wire. You hated how he still had that power over you—how a few words, a stare, and the sound of your name in his voice could unravel everything you’d built for yourself.

He was wrong, wasn’t he?

You weren’t losing yourself. You were just… figuring things out. You weren’t the same girl who used to drop everything the second he called. You weren’t the one patching him up anymore after every fight with his girlfriend. You were your own person now. Someone who laughed too loud at Jay’s dumb jokes. Someone who liked the way he challenged you. Who liked the way he looked at you like you were the only one in the room, even when you were surrounded by people.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t feel like shit.

You paced your room, emotions swirling inside you like a storm you couldn’t control. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. You weren’t supposed to feel this confused. Jay made things easy, simple. You bickered, you competed, you flirted, and—somewhere in between—you found something that felt a lot like peace. Even if it was messy. Even if it was sudden. But Heeseung’s words… they lingered like a bruise under your skin.

Don’t do something you’ll regret.

God. Heeseung always made things feel heavier than they had to be.

You collapsed onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling, and after a long moment, you grabbed your phone. Your fingers hovered over Jay’s name. You were supposed to call him tonight. To talk about this. To maybe make it official, if you were both ready.

But suddenly, you didn’t know if you were.

Not because of Heeseung. Not just because of him.

But because you didn’t trust yourself not to break the same way again. To fall into old habits. To blur the lines between right and wrong. You’d spent so long being someone else’s lifeline, you weren’t sure how to be your own.

Still, your thumb pressed down, and the phone started ringing.

If there was one thing you did know—it was this: whether it ended in a smile or a disaster, you were too far in to back out now.

Jay picked up on the third ring.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft, almost hesitant. Like he could sense the storm brewing behind your silence.

You swallowed. “Hi.”

There was a pause—long enough for you to hear the faint music in the background on his end. Then, “You okay?”

You almost laughed. Was that a question anymore?

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, curling your fingers into your bedsheets. “Heeseung knows. Sunoo told him.”

Jay sighed, like he already expected that. “Yeah. I figured.”

That made you sit up. “You did?”

“I mean,” he murmured, “I didn’t think Sunoo would keep it to himself for long. He kind of looked like he was gonna explode when you told him. I saw him bolt across campus like he was on a mission.”

You let out a breathy laugh, the edge of panic softening just a little. “God, I should’ve known.”

“Hey,” Jay said gently, “are you okay? Like really okay?”

You hesitated. “Heeseung said I’m losing myself.”

Jay didn’t say anything at first. Then his voice came, steady and careful: “Do you think you are?”

You looked down at your lap, tracing a pattern over your comforter with your nail. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just… I feel like I’ve always been someone to someone. Heeseung’s best friend. The girl who fights Jay in every class. The toxic ex. The girl who makes reckless decisions and kisses people to shut them up.”

Jay let out a quiet, amused breath at that one.

You went on, “I don’t know how to just… be. Without people talking. Without feeling like I owe someone something. Even you. I keep thinking—maybe I don’t deserve to want this.”

There was silence again. Then Jay said, “You do.”

Your heart caught.

“I know you think I’m still that guy from a year ago,” he continued. “The guy who played stupid games and made stupid bets. And maybe part of me still is. But the part of me that matters now? The part that looks at you and wants more than some stupid competition? That part’s real. And it’s yours, if you want it.”

Your throat felt thick.

“I want it,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer right away. But then he said, “Then screw what Heeseung says. Screw the rumors. Screw everything that came before. Let’s make our own version of this.”

You smiled faintly, tears pricking your eyes for no good reason.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Okay,” he echoed.

And for once, it felt like the world might finally let you breathe.

Heeseung sat slouched on the campus lawn, fingers tugging idly at the blades of grass beneath him, lips pressed into a thin line as his girlfriend rubbed slow circles into his back. Jake and his girlfriend were sprawled out nearby, half-listening, half-whispering to each other in the shade.

“I just—don’t know, babe,” Heeseung muttered finally, eyes locked on nothing in particular. “He’s supposed to be my best friend.”

Jake’s girlfriend sighed, straightening up. “And he still is, Heeseung. You’re just being stubborn.”

He rolled his eyes and leaned back on his hands, scoffing. “So now I’m the bad guy for not being thrilled that my so-called best friend is sneaking around with her?”

Jake’s girlfriend exchanged a look with Heeseung’s. “It’s not like they planned it to hurt you. You said it yourself—YN never even liked him. And now she does. What, she’s not allowed to fall for someone unless you approve?”

Heeseung didn’t answer, jaw tightening.

His girlfriend turned to him, her voice softer. “I’m serious, Hee. Jay’s not perfect, but he’s always been there for you. You’re being an idiot if you can’t see how much this means to them. Especially YN. She’s finally… happy. Can’t you just show up for her the way she always showed up for you?”

Heeseung’s eyes flickered up to meet hers, conflicted and clouded.

Then she added, “Also… for the record? I kissed Jay. Not the other way around.”

Heeseung’s head snapped toward her. “Wait, what?”

She nodded, expression calm. “You’ve been holding a grudge over something you only knew half the story of. I kissed him. He was surprised. And yeah, fine, he kissed me back the second time. But we weren’t dating the first time it happened—you just never wanted to believe that.”

Heeseung’s brows furrowed. “And the second time?”

“That one was on both of us,” she admitted, leaning back. “We were technically together, sure. But you wanna talk about betrayal? Don’t forget you kissed Ina.”

The silence that followed was thick. Jake’s girlfriend blinked. Heeseung’s shoulders tensed.

“Okay,” he muttered after a beat. “Low blow.”

“Is it?” a familiar voice chimed in as you approached the group, arms crossed and a raised brow. “Because if I remember correctly, that was while we were still close. And Ina was my best friend.”

Heeseung shifted uncomfortably, eyes flickering toward you.

You smiled, tight and sharp. “But hey, let’s keep talking about betrayal.”

He didn’t have a comeback. And for once, neither did you.

The silence this time was yours.

You were leaning into Jay’s shoulder, fingers tangled with his under the table while the two of you quietly scrolled through your phones, pretending not to notice the tension that still lingered in the air after the whole fallout. Things had gotten messy—too messy—but somehow, here you were. Still side by side.

You almost didn’t notice Heeseung walk up until a familiar paper cup was set down in front of you with a gentle thud. You looked up, brows furrowed, ready to snap at whoever was interrupting—until your gaze landed on him.

Heeseung stood there, holding out another cup toward Jay.

“Regular milk tea. No boba. Less ice,” he said, almost grumbling it, eyes flicking away like the words tasted sour in his mouth. “Still your favorite?”

Jay blinked, clearly caught off guard. He didn’t move to take it right away. “…Yeah.”

You sat up a little straighter, eyes darting between them as Jay slowly took the drink from Heeseung’s hand. Heeseung scratched the back of his neck and looked everywhere but at the two of you.

“I figured if I was gonna try not being a dick about this, bubble tea was a decent start.”

Jay gave a short laugh, like he didn’t know if he was supposed to be amused or suspicious. “Thanks, man.”

Heeseung just gave a tight nod and finally looked at you—his expression unreadable. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed, resigned, or genuinely trying. Maybe all three.

You offered a small smile anyway. “Thanks for mine too.”

He didn’t say anything, just gave a shrug like it was no big deal and walked off, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets.

Jay glanced at you, then back at the drink in his hand. “Didn’t expect that today.”

“Me neither,” you muttered, leaning into him again.

But even as you rested your head against his shoulder, you felt a pang in your chest. Because Heeseung still remembered.

You took a slow sip of your drink, the sweetness of the milk tea doing very little to wash away the bitter taste in your mouth. Your eyes were narrowed, staring at the cup like it had personally wronged you.

“I’m still pissed at Sunoo for telling Heeseung,” you muttered, voice low but sharp.

Jay chuckled beside you, leaning back in his seat. “Come on,” he said, nudging your leg with his. “You know Sunoo can’t keep his mouth shut for more than twenty-four hours.”

“That’s not an excuse,” you snapped, looking at him now. “He promised he wouldn’t say anything. And the second he had the chance to stir the pot, he dumped the whole damn thing.”

Jay shrugged, still smiling a little. “It’s Sunoo. He lives for drama. Honestly, I’m surprised he lasted that long.”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed that Jay was taking this so lightly, but you couldn’t deny he had a point. Sunoo was like a walking group chat—loud, animated, and incapable of holding in a juicy secret. Still, it stung.

“I just wanted to tell Heeseung myself,” you muttered. “I wanted to do it the right way.”

Jay softened, tilting his head. “I know. But maybe… it worked out for the better? He doesn’t look like he’s plotting my murder anymore. That’s gotta mean something.”

You huffed, leaning your head on his shoulder again. “Barely.”

“Hey,” he said, brushing his thumb against your hand, “he brought me milk tea. That’s, like, Heeseung-speak for I’m trying.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Whatever. I’m still mad at Sunoo.”

Jay laughed. “Yeah, well, good luck staying mad. He’ll probably show up at our door with a glitter apology card and a fruit tray in, like, an hour.”

You snorted. “Don’t tempt me. I’ll slam the door in his face.”

“No, you won’t.”

“…Yeah, I won’t.”

A couple of weeks passed, and despite the underlying tension, things had gradually settled into an uneasy but workable rhythm. You and Jay were still keeping things mostly under wraps—well, for the most part. Sunoo had already spilled the beans to Heeseung, though. You knew it was only a matter of time before the rest of the group caught wind of it.

So, after a bit of back and forth, everyone finally agreed to a “peace offering.” Heeseung, Jay, and even Sunghoon (with his usual reserved demeanor) had agreed to meet for a casual garden picnic—something to bridge the gap. The only catch? It was going to be a quadruple date. Your best friends and their girlfriends were invited too, making it a bit of a group outing.

The picnic spot was serene, surrounded by the soft hum of the city just beyond the park. The weather was perfect—bright and sunny with a slight breeze. It felt like the universe was giving everyone a little break from the chaos. You sat next to Jay on the checkered blanket, his hand casually resting on your knee. You both helped set up, keeping your movements natural and easy. But as soon as your eyes met Heeseung’s, you couldn’t shake the awkwardness that lingered in the air. He was sitting next to his girlfriend, shooting occasional glances at Jay. You could tell he was trying to keep it together, but the tension was still there, unspoken and heavy.

“Do you think it’s going to work?” you asked Jay, glancing at Heeseung and Ina from the corner of your eye.

Jay shrugged, not missing a beat. “We’ll see. It’s not like we can change everything in one day.” His voice was quiet but certain. His eyes were warm, though, focused on you as he squeezed your hand gently. “Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal.”

As the others arrived, Jake and his girlfriend came over, immediately cracking jokes and setting up a game of volleyball. Sunghoon and his girlfriend, too, joined in—Sunghoon, as usual, staying relatively silent while his girlfriend bubbled with excitement. She looked at him with a playful smirk, nudging him with her elbow.

“Babe, are you actually going to talk today, or are you just going to sit there being a statue?” she teased.

Sunghoon just shrugged, not bothering to respond. But there was a tiny, amused glint in his eyes. His girlfriend rolled her eyes and turned to you.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Jay? You two are still keeping things hush-hush?” she asked, her voice a little too curious.

You shot her a quick glance, unsure of what to say, but Jay was already speaking up. “What’s the point of making things complicated, right? Sometimes it’s better to keep things simple.”

But the laughter from the others couldn’t entirely hide the tension between Heeseung and Jay. You could feel the unspoken rivalry simmering beneath the surface. Heeseung, ever the protector, was giving Jay an occasional hard stare, especially as Jake cracked more jokes.

“Come on, Heeseung. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” Jake teased, nudging Heeseung’s shoulder. “We’re all just here to relax.”

Heeseung forced a tight smile but didn’t say anything. He took a deep breath and muttered under his breath, “Still don’t like him.”

Jay smirked. “Yeah, I can tell.”

“Awkward,” Sunghoon’s girlfriend chimed in from the other side of the picnic blanket, dramatically glancing between the two boys. “Is this how it’s going to be? You two have known each other for years, but now it’s this… weird?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “I don’t know why everyone’s pretending this isn’t a little messy. It’s been weird from the start.”

But just as the tension began to settle back into that uncomfortable silence, Sunghoon—silent as ever—tapped his water bottle against the ground, glancing at you with a look that could only be described as amused. “So… when’s the wedding?”

You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks. “Shut up, Sunghoon.”

He just shrugged. “I’m just saying, if you two are going to be all secretive, you might as well just get married already.”

The laughter that followed made the air feel lighter, and for a moment, it almost felt like things could go back to how they used to be. The group chattered, eating, and playing games. Sunghoon’s quiet but steady presence made you feel like everything would somehow work itself out.

But you couldn’t deny the awkwardness still lingering between Heeseung and Jay. It wasn’t something that could be fixed overnight, and you knew that. Still, there was a small part of you that hoped, maybe hoped, this would be the start of something different—something better.

As the sun dipped lower, the golden light casting long shadows across the grass, Jay leaned closer, his arm resting around your shoulders. You let your head rest on his, the familiar warmth comforting in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.

He whispered, “It’s going to be fine. Just give it time.”

You nodded, grateful that at least for now, things felt right between you two.

It was messy, sure. But it was yours. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to make it work.

The sound of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the chatter of your friends filled the air, and for once, it didn’t feel like anything was about to fall apart.

Everything was still awkward. But maybe… that was just the start of something new.

enhypen campus series

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ssuperrnnovaa · 2 months ago

Text

— WHEN THEY FALL IN LOVE..

or, when there's no turning back for the first years.

a/n: first writing post.. AHH edit 1: i forgot to add things I DIDNT PROOFREAD SORRY

when ace trappola falls in love..

he's still the same guy. but almost sweet, almost kind.

but he's a master of his secrets. parts his mouth just to spew another joke about your appearance or how you did on that potionology test the other day - that same glint of hesitation in his eyes, that unsure croak of his voice just before he delivers another nasty quip about your face. like a punchline stuck in his throat - too funny to laugh at, too funny to acknowledge.

funny how he'd said he'd "rather hang out with his friends than find love", and here he is; laying in his bed. at 3 am. head filled with nothing but thoughts of you.

he'll let it simmer. wait for you to realize - wait for you to notice him, not just the facade he puts up. not the prankster he is in class, or the troublemaker you have to put up with.

wait for you to love him back.

when deuce spade falls in love..

he's trying his very best.

deuce was never much of a charmer - the guy's been a delinquent for most of his life; feared, not loved. he only sees (romantic) love in the movies - terrible rom-coms, poignant love stories.. you name it. deuce has no idea about love.

(his lack of knowledge gets worse with you.)

deuce tries - keyword, tries to keep his composure in front of you. he fails, miserably. his face? turning red. words? none. palms? sweating. and pride? absolutely crushed.

he apologizes to you later, blames it on the heat or how he forgot about another ridiculous rule. calls up his mom and his mouth is a dam - like he suddenly gained the ability to talk 10 minutes later. tells her all about you, as if she doesn't know your entire genetic code just from hearing him talk.

maybe one day.

when jack howl falls in love..

it's unyielding - unyielding, but quiet.

jack doesn't date for fun; never has, never will. he doesn't chase anyone.

wolves mate for life - you know it when jack immediately shuts down the idea of even having a crush or having an ex, saying that he's "focused on self-betterment" or "waiting for the right person". you're convinced that not even cupid could get him to fall in love.

but for you? that discipline shatters.

it happens during a study session in ramshackle when you're idly playing with his ears - making fun of that stone-cold persona when in reality he's melting under your touch. he catches himself after five minutes of bliss, thoughts of the future flooding his brain; "what if i won't be a good partner to them? what if i let them down?'

to jack, love isn't a game; love's not the way he feels embarrassingly giddy after you squeeze his hand or poke his bicep. love's permanent. forever. and it terrifies him.

when epel felmier falls in love..

it's fierce.

epel's not soft - in fact, he's everything but. he'd do anything to be seen as strong by you; even if it meant burying his own feelings.

epel was never much of a dreamer - let alone a lovey-dovey kind of guy. he despises those mushy romance stories, calling them "dumb as a box of rocks", grimacing when he watches the leads kiss.

yet.. he can't help but be entranced. by you.

he scoffs a little too loudly for vil's comfort, but in his head, he's repeating the same mantra over and over again in his head - "i'm not some silly little girl moonin' over someone. i've got better things to do with my time. besides, love is for babies."

yet, his defenses crumble when you ever do so much as breathe in his direction, and suddenly, he's back to square one.

when sebek zigvolt falls in love..

it's fervent.

sebek is passionate about a lot of things - his duty as a retainer, malleus, academics, and you.

you, a mere human that could quiet him down with just a finger to your lip. you, a mere human who keeps him awake at night and restless, overthinking. yearning.

it's foolish, he tells himself. tells himself it's just a small crush as if it's not all-consuming, as if he's not avoiding you all together just so he could have peace of mind.

is it the right thing to do? no. will it keep him unbothered? absolutely not. and will he come to terms with his feelings?... unlikely.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst x you #twst fanfic #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #twst first years #angst if you squint

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strayingawayy · 4 months ago

Text

for his little girl...

...the one where seungmin feels insecure about not being the best dad, but his sweet girl assures him that he is

"there." seungmin mutters as he finishes making your daughter's braids. the little girl turns her head around, looking at the two lopsided pigtails, unsure of how to react. she brings her hand up to one of them, trying to align it, only for the rubberband to come undone in her tiny fingers.

seungmin sighs at this, pulling her back by the waist and attempting to gather up the loose strands of hair once again. your husband was everything a child could ever ask for in a father. he was playful yet strict. he was never too overwhelming when it came to handling her but he always made sure your little girl knew he was always there for her.

it wasn't easy to handle the 3 year old but seungmin had actively worked on it. he learnt to bake brownies from felix upon seeing her daughter's face light up when she would have them. they weren't as good as his, sure, but he would never find that out because she always made sure to tell him how much she adored her father's brownies, even if they were a little dry.

he noticed how much she would like it every time she and hannie would sing their favourite anime openings together, so he made sure to find out their names and blast them in the car for your little one to sing her heart out to.

kim seungmin tried his best for his little girl but sometimes he felt he wasn't good enough for her. he didn't deserve her. that her smile was too pure and innocent to be directed at him, that it wasn't his jokes that broke her into fits of giggles and it most certainly wasn't the sight of his face that made her leap from joy the second she saw him at the school gates.

"ish okay dada. you read me tha good storiesh and sing all tha pretty songs otay?" she says and seungmin swears he would've sobbed then and there had he not had the slightest bit of control in him. it's the way she says it like she read his mind. the way she beams at him with her brightest, slightly crooked toothed smile that seungmin thinks, "oh. i am so loved by my little girl" and almost feels guilty for having doubted it in the first place. so he just bites his lip and nods.

"yeah...i think i'll do just that sweetheart."

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deonsx · 4 months ago

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bachira, isagi, rin, (add ur favs if you want <3) with reader who’s love languages are like quality time, physical touch, words of affirmation + is pretty talkative and social feeling annoying?? like reader yapping away and sometimes realizing it could be boring, or reader always liking being close to them but pulling away sometimes for seemingly no reason cause they don’t wanna be a bother? (Also sfw pls I am asexual :3)

muah muah have a nice day/night drink lots of water!!! remember to take time for yourself!!!

heyaaaa im here again!!! i love this cutie rq lets do this also im adding^^ +Nagi,Sae,Kaiser

Rin Itoshi

He’s used to solitude and silence, so your constant chatter initially feels like an intrusion into his carefully constructed world

But over time, he notices how your voice fills the spaces he didn’t realize were empty. Even if you’re rambling about something he doesn’t fully understand, like the plot of a drama you’re watching or a funny story from work, he listens. He’s a quiet listener, his sharp eyes fixed on you while you speak, occasionally nodding or offering a low hum of acknowledgment

Sometimes, though, you realize you’ve been talking too much. You falter mid-sentence, worry flickering across your face. “Sorry, I’m probably boring you” you mumble, starting to pull away, both physically and emotionally. Rin frowns when this happens. “You’re not” he says, his tone firm. “Just… keep talking” It’s not a grand declaration, but it’s enough to keep you going

Your love for physical touch throws him off guard at first too. You’ll casually lean against him while watching a movie or brush your fingers against his when you’re walking together. He stiffens initially, unsure how to reciprocate, but he doesn’t pull away. In time, he grows used to your closeness, even coming to crave it

But there are moments when you suddenly withdraw. Maybe you were resting your head on his shoulder but then sit up, or you pull your hand back from his. Rin doesn’t understand why you do this and it frustrates him

One evening as you sit together on the couch, you shift away after being snuggled against him for a while. He grabs your wrist gently, stopping you “What are you doing?” You hesitate, avoiding his gaze. “I just… I don’t want to annoy you. I know I can be too much sometimes”

Rin’s grip tightens ever so slightly, his expression unreadable. “You’re not annoying.” His voice softens, a rare moment of vulnerability breaking through. “If I didn’t want you here, I’d tell you” It’s a simple reassurance, but it means everything coming from someone like Rin. Slowly, you relax and lean back into him. He doesn’t say much else, but the way his hand lingers on yours, grounding you, says enough

Bachira Meguru

Bachira genuinely enjoys hearing you talk. Whether it’s about your day a funny story or some random thought that popped into your head he listens with a wide grin his golden eyes sparkling with interest. Sometimes he even adds to your rambles tossing in jokes or exaggerated reactions that make you laugh

“Wait wait so you’re telling me the cat jumped on the table during the meeting? Was it secretly trying to take over the company?” he says dramatically making you giggle until your sides hurt

He never makes you feel boring. Instead he thrives off your energy loving how your conversations never seem to end. But the moment you start doubting yourself maybe mid-sentence when you realize you’ve been talking for a while he notices right away

“Am I talking too much?” you ask your voice suddenly hesitant. Bachira tilts his head confused “Huh? No way!” He leans closer his nose almost brushing yours. “I like your voice. Don’t stop now you were telling me about that weird customer!”

Your love for physical touch is something Bachira immediately embraces. He’s naturally affectionate and loves being close to you whether it’s linking arms holding hands or draping himself over you while you sit together. You’re like his personal magnet if he’s in the room he’s going to find his way to you

“Bee I need to cook dinner” you protest one evening as he hugs you from behind his chin resting on your shoulder “Mm but you’re so comfy” he murmurs nuzzling into your neck “Can’t I stay here? Pretty please?”

Sometimes though you pull away unexpectedly. Maybe you feel like you’re overwhelming him or being too clingy. Bachira notices this too. The first time it happens he blinks in confusion watching as you slide to the other side of the couch or step away from his playful embrace

“Why’d you move?” he asks pouting slightly “I just… I don’t want to bother you” you admit avoiding his gaze

Bachira’s expression softens and he wastes no time closing the gap between you again. He cups your cheeks in his hands his thumbs brushing lightly against your skin “Bother me? That’s impossible.” His voice is soft but filled with conviction. “I like it when you’re close. You don’t have to pull away okay?”

The reassurance in his tone makes your chest feel lighter and you smile “Okay” Bachira thrives in your shared chaos loving every moment of your affection and chatter. To him you’re never too much; you’re the perfect match for his wild boundless energy. He even gets a little needy if you ever try to tone yourself down

“Hey” he says one day tugging at your sleeve. “Why are you so quiet today? Did I do something?” You laugh shaking your head “No I just didn’t want to talk too much and annoy you”

Bachira’s jaw drops dramatically “Annoy me? You? Never!” He wraps an arm around your shoulders pulling you into a side hug “You could talk all day and I’d still wanna hear more. So go on tell me everything”

Isagi Yoichi

At first he’s a little overwhelmed by how much you talk. You’re full of energy and always have something to say while he tends to lean on the quieter more thoughtful side. But it doesn’t take long for him to realize he enjoys the way you bring so much life into his day

He listens to you intently even when you’re going off on tangents about your favorite show or a random funny thing that happened during the day. He nods along offering small comments or questions that show he’s genuinely engaged. When you pause mid-conversation worrying that you might be talking too much Isagi is quick to reassure you

“Wait why’d you stop?” he asks tilting his head slightly his soft blue eyes full of curiosity “I don’t know… I just thought I might be boring you” you admit quietly. Isagi’s expression shifts to one of determination the same look he has on the field “You could never bore me. I like hearing you talk. It’s… comforting”

Your love for physical touch takes a bit of getting used to for Isagi. At first he stiffens slightly when you casually grab his hand or lean into his side. It’s not that he doesn’t like it he’s just not used to someone being so openly affectionate. But over time he starts to crave it. He finds himself reaching for your hand first or sitting closer to you just so your shoulders brush

One evening you’re sitting next to him on the couch and absentmindedly rest your head on his shoulder. After a few moments you pull away suddenly feeling like you might be crowding him. Isagi notices immediately

“What’s wrong?” he asks his voice laced with concern “Nothing I just didn’t want to bother you” you say looking away. He frowns slightly before gently grabbing your wrist pulling you back to him “You’re not bothering me. I like it when you’re close. Stay?”

Nagi Seishiro

Nagi is a great listener even if he doesn’t seem like it. He’ll lie back phone in hand while you go on about your day occasionally mumbling a soft “hmm” or “yeah” to let you know he’s paying attention. When you suddenly pause mid-ramble and mumble “Sorry I’m probably boring you” Nagi’s lazy eyes lift from his phone to meet yours “Not really” he says plainly his voice soft but firm. “Keep talking. It’s kinda nice”

Physical touch is another adjustment for him. You’re always leaning into him holding his hand or draping yourself over his shoulder and while he’s not the most physically expressive person he doesn’t mind it. In fact he starts to crave the warmth of your presence though he’d never outright say it

Sometimes though you pull away suddenly like when you’ve been curled up against his side during a lazy day of gaming. You’ll sit up or move to the other side of the couch a little self-conscious. Nagi notices right away and glances at you his expression unreadable

“Why’d you move” he asks his tone nonchalant though there’s a hint of curiosity in his voice “I just… I don’t want to be a bother” you admit avoiding his gaze. Nagi sighs softly setting down his controller “You’re not a bother” he says simply pulling you back to him with surprising gentleness. “You’re comfy. Don’t overthink it”

Quality time with Nagi is less about doing something grand and more about enjoying the quiet moments together. He’s perfectly content lying on the couch with you watching random videos or playing games while you talk about whatever’s on your mind. Sometimes he’ll pause his game just to listen to you more closely a small barely noticeable smile tugging at his lips

If you ever try to tone yourself down or give him space because you think you’re overwhelming him Nagi is quick to call you out in his own way “Why’re you being so quiet today” he asks one afternoon peeking at you from the corner of his eye

“I didn’t want to annoy you” you reply fiddling with your hands. Nagi sighs again this time more dramatically “You’re not annoying. You’re kinda the opposite actually. It’d be a pain if you stopped being yourself”

Sae Itoshi

He listens to you more than you realize. When you’re excitedly talking about your day or sharing a random story he doesn’t interrupt. He might offer a quiet “Hmm” or “Is that so” to show he’s listening but his responses are subtle. Sometimes you notice his lack of reaction and start to feel self-conscious

“Sorry I must be annoying” you mumble mid-sentence suddenly pulling back. Sae’s gaze sharpens slightly as he looks at you “You’re not annoying. If you were I’d tell you” His blunt honesty catches you off guard but it’s also strangely comforting

Physical touch is something Sae doesn’t quite know how to deal with at first. You’re always finding ways to be close to him draping yourself over his shoulder or reaching for his hand. He doesn’t pull away but he doesn’t reciprocate much either not because he doesn’t like it but because he’s not sure how to show it

But then there are moments when you pull away thinking you’re being too much. Like when you’ve been leaning on him during a quiet evening and suddenly sit up creating distance. Sae notices immediately

“What are you doing” he asks his tone calm but with a hint of curiosity “I just didn’t want to bother you” you say avoiding his gaze. Sae exhales softly shaking his head “If you were bothering me I’d say something. You don’t have to stop” His words are matter-of-fact but they hold an underlying sincerity that makes your chest feel lighter

Spending quality time with Sae looks a bit different. He’s not the type to plan elaborate dates or go out of his way to entertain you but he values the quiet moments you spend together. Whether it’s sitting beside him while he watches a match or walking together in comfortable silence he appreciates your presence even if he doesn’t always say it.

When you’re unusually quiet Sae notices right away. “Why aren’t you talking” he asks one day his tone almost teasing. You hesitate before answering “I just didn’t want to annoy you.”

Sae sighs softly turning to meet your eyes “You don’t annoy me. If I didn’t like being around you I wouldn’t be here”

Kaiser Michael

He’s an active participant in your endless chatter. Whether you’re recounting a random memory or diving into an elaborate story he listens intently often throwing in witty remarks or teasing comments to keep the conversation lively

“You really don’t stop talking do you” he says one day smirking as he leans closer. Before you can apologize or feel embarrassed he adds “Good. It’d be boring otherwise”

Physical touch is something Kaiser welcomes wholeheartedly. In fact he often takes the lead when it comes to affection. He’s the type to casually drape his arm around your shoulders pull you into his lap or grab your hand just because he feels like it. He thrives on being close to you and makes sure you know it

But then there are moments when you pull away suddenly like when you’re leaning against him during a quiet moment and decide to sit up creating some space. Kaiser notices instantly and his confident demeanor shifts ever so slightly

“Where are you going” he asks his tone playful but his eyes hold a flicker of genuine curiosity “I didn’t want to bother you” you mumble avoiding his gaze

Kaiser scoffs lightly shaking his head. “You? Bothering me? Don’t be ridiculous.” He reaches for your hand pulling you back to him “I like having you close. Stop overthinking”

Spending quality time with Kaiser is anything but dull. He enjoys taking you out to exciting places fancy restaurants spontaneous trips or even just a scenic walk because he loves seeing your eyes light up. At the same time he’s perfectly happy lounging with you watching a movie or simply lying around while you talk his head resting on your lap as you absentmindedly play with his hair

When you’re unusually quiet he notices right away “Alright what’s going on” he asks his tone somewhere between teasing and concerned “Nothing” you reply quickly “I just didn’t want to overwhelm you”

Kaiser raises an eyebrow leaning closer. “Overwhelm me? Please. I can handle you and more” He grins leaning in to plant a quick kiss on your forehead “I like you just the way you are so don’t hold back”

Enjoy!

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