#anyway they would make out in that room---

[seosracha]

⸻ SAINT MATTHEW'S ACADEMY II

SYNOPSIS ⸻ heeseung feels helpless as you continue to deny him love, and give it to the one person he can't come to accept- park sunghoon.

PAIRING ⸻ sunghoon x fem!reader x heeseung

GENRE ⸻ rich kids au, smut, fluff, angst

TAGS ⸻ love triangle, cursing, foul language, underage drinking, degrading names, smoking, mentions of doing c0ke, partying, gaslighting, religious themes, obsessive behavior/thoughts, unrequited love, fighting (verbally), mention of physical abuse and blood, desperate sunghoon :D, making out, penetration, unprotected sex,

WORDCOUNT ⸻ 15.2k

PART ONE

MDNI. This is a work is meant for entertainment purposes only. References to products and brands are imaginary and not meant to deprecate their image.

You close your eyes, repeating the words, painting the scene and your back in that room. Those words spoken with so much collapsed indifference by a person that didn’t care to see or talk to you again. There was no point in burdening your memory with the idea of him, the idea of a Lee Heeseung that in this universe, didn’t quite exist. 

Yes- he carried his father’s surname, his name Heeseung- meaning bright and successful. Those were the things that would never change, the things he could never replace or hide. He would always and forever be remembered as Lee Heeseung, son of the hotel giants, and brother of Lee Haejun, the family heir. 

For all his miserable and lonely life he struggled to create a name for himself. For all the 19 years he managed to wrestle with life, the fate stayed the same. He wanted his parents to think of him in any way, even if it was bad, even if it meant he’d be a failure in their eyes. He craved to be something more, something beyond the body he was born in. 

Winter wasn’t his favourite season. He hated wearing a puffer jacket, long socks and heavy boots. He hated the additional weight of all these things with the already pre existing heaviness of his being itself.  

You liked winter- he knew that. He knew how happy it made you to catch a snowflake that’d melt away within seconds of meeting your warm hand. Heeseung also knew he probably ruined it for you on that night- 22 of December, the day that welcomed winter. 

He hasn’t really spoken to his friends since that night- his phone’s been on silent mode and his house, abandoned by him for now. Usually he’d enjoy this, maybe even have a friend join him, but this winter break, the vacation felt insufferable. 

Warm Sydney, Australia, the colour of the inside of his hand almost as light and soft as the skin of his neck and the underside of his forearms, which were rarely exposed to the sun. He remembers how 2 years ago, just a month or two later he was here with Sunghoon, lounging around and sleeping off the scorching heat until one of them finally suggested they should go to the rocks to swim. 

Well this year, he couldn’t quite find himself leaving the white sheets. Heeseung had left so many things unsolved back home, and he feared that by the time he’s back- it’d be too late. He’d leave the air conditioner blasting all day and night, his thoughts running off to all the things he did wrong. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have told you, maybe he shouldn’t have asked his friend for help, maybe he should’ve just left you alone. But how could he- it was stronger than him. 

While the summer in Australia left an unquenchable thirst for more, winter in his hometown was as quiet as ever. 

The inexplicable  animosity hung heavy in the air as you, and everyone else went about their life, trying to forget yesterday, and live with the thought of tomorrow. 

You spent most of your days alone. Sometimes, Jake would drop by. Or Jay. It depended on who made an excuse that day. 

In the midst of a fiery conflict, you found comfort in them. The same people who encouraged behaviour that led you here. It was all broken anyway, so was there really a point in finding the lesser evil? 

Neither of them have spoken to the two boys. Maybe they didn’t want to take sides or maybe, just maybe all of them were waiting for the right moment to end this. This wasn’t friendship, not in the slightest. It was jealousy and competition. 

Trying not to think about it came out to be much easier. Only the countless texts reminded you. The unanswered calls, disconnected lines and unspoken words. 

No more words, you said no more words after his confession. You stayed silent, and that pain flooded you today. The silence stayed with you. Every night you’d spend on a phone call with him, laughing because no matter how hard you begged him, he wouldn’t hang up first, was now filled with heavy breaths and drowning darkness. 

Sunghoon hadn’t gone anywhere this winter. He was supposed to- the first class tickets to Sri Lanka already booked by his mother. When she knocked on his door, 12 hours before they were supposed to leave, he told her he'd fallen ill. Very ill. 

Before Heeseung blocked his number, he sent him a short message. Sunghoon sat in a cold corner on the white bathroom tiles, reading the message. It was enough to let him know that it was over. And even though the unyielding pain in his stomach grew stronger, a small smile twitched at the corner of his bloody lips. He tried to reply, but the text went green. 

When Heeseung first asked him for that favour, he assumed it was just another sick way for him to assert his dominance over you. Another way to make sure you knew Heeseung created what you are today, and no matter what, you’ll always have a piece of him. Sunghoon never thought the boy would tell you the truth in the end. 

Two days before New Years Eve, Jake texted you. 

“Is your brother home?” 

He also attached a photo, indicating that he was already in the area. 

“No” 

The simple reply quickly sent through, and without even checking for another response you flip the phone over. 

Each sound, each notification, you hoped it was from one of them. Heeseung never turned off his location sharing, so you already knew he wasn't around. Sunghoon, well, you had no idea. 

You didn't really know anything about him. How he went about his day, before and after school or on vacation or just on a simple Saturday. You didn't know his favorite color, his favorite food or his favorite song. 

It was never easy to talk to him- he didn't share much or make space for new people in his life. You rarely saw him enjoy things or even crack a smile at the jokes his friends made. That’s exactly what made it hard to figure out if he really meant the things he said and did. 

Your doorbell rings. You turn your phone and see another message from Jake, indicating he’s here. It didn't take him longer than 5 minutes to get here. 

“Hey” you scratch the back of your head, welcoming him in. He’s not awkward in the slightest, kissing your cheek as he enters. 

Jake hasn't been the same since. You can’t quite remember if he’s always been like this or did his friendship with the boys actually influence him that badly. 

Something you always noticed about Jake is how easily influenced he really was. It took one word, one word and he’d be at Heeseung’s feet just waiting to do whatever the boy wanted. He tried so hard to impress them, he fell through with everything in his life- his grades faltered, his relationship with his parents started to rot, and his self respect declined with every passing day. He ruined himself for them. 

Jay wasn’t like that. He never really listened to Heeseung in the first place. And Heeseung realized that pretty quickly. They weren’t particularly close either. Jay had legions of friends outside of school. He didn’t need Heeseung, Sunghoon or Jake but in a way, they needed him. He stuck around because loneliness wasn’t a good look on him, and his peers at school, well, they weren’t quite fond of him. 

“I brought wine” he announces and hands you the bottle of red wine that’s gotten quite cold by now. 

“You know I don’t drink” you look away from the label, now focusing on the boy who’s fixing his hair in the mirror. He doesn’t seem to register what you said as a piece of his brown hair keeps falling onto his forehead. 

He wiggles out of his leather jacket, hanging it on the clothing rack before taking the wine back into his hands “It’s only 12%. You won’t feel it” he ultimately replies. 

He wanders off into the kitchen while you sit down on the grey couch. Jake doesn’t really ask, he never does. It doesn’t bother you, not as much as it used to at least. He searches your cabinets looking for wine glasses which after a short moment, can’t be found in any of them. He settles down for something less extravagant. 

You wouldn’t even dare inviting any of them just a couple months back. You were embarrassed, their houses the size of your whole street. A lot of things have changed since then. 

"Jungwon is hosting for New Years” he started, handing the glass to you. He sat down, his body facing you “Do you want to come?” 

Yang Jungwon was in your grade. His father was a software engineer who developed his own app but also helped countless companies start theirs. Jungwon was the one who helped Jay start his long abandoned website. He always watched his father doing big things, he wanted that too. His mother was a divorce attorney, specializing in family law, charging around $500  per hour. She was the go-to of every miserable wife and all the tired husbands. Jungwon was a pretty normal boy- he grew up with two loving parents that got lucky enough in life to spoil him from the moment he was born. 

“Who else is coming?” you ask, and he shrugs, gulping down almost half  of his glass. 

You look down at yours, uninterested. But before he manages to reply, you copy his action. It doesn't taste good. 

“Probably the same people as always” he leans his head on his hand looking over at you “But from the people you’ll know, uh, Niki and Wonyoung are going to be there for sure. Sunoo probably has nothing better to do and Jay already told me he’s coming” Jake added after a moment and you nodded understandingly. 

“Niki and Wonyoung, huh?” you laugh mockingly, downing the other half of your drink. You wonder how in the world this could be a pleasure to middle aged women “Sunoo told me she went over to Sunghoon’s house two days ago” 

“Jealous?” Jake laughs and you raise your eyebrows. 

“No” he repeats your action and you can tell that he doesn't really buy it. Neither do you. “I’m not jealous, Jake. They can do whatever they want” 

His lips turn into a downwards smile “Sure, sure” he nods, and you playfully kick his leg. He winces at the action in a joking manner, before continuing “Heeseung and Sunghoon might be there too. So if you don't feel comfortable with that, you don't have to go. But me and Jay want you to be there” his tone softens. 

How would it end up this time? Which one of them would say something this time? Do something this time? Or would they ignore you, just like they are now. 

All you wanted was an answer. Nothing more, nothing less. You could even go by without a ‘sorry’. 

“I don’t care. I’d have to face them at school anyways” you answer with a straight smile. 

“Didn’t you hear?” he asks, painting your face with confusion at the statement. You shake your head, and he sits up straight “Karina’s parents are close with Heeseung’s, and she’s been saying some about him changing school’s mid February” 

You are even more confused now. It didn’t make sense. Where would he go? It’s probably just a rumor. 

“But you guys are graduating this year. That can’t be right” he shrugs, just as curious and confused as you. 

“Yeah, I doubt it” you nod with a small sigh, looking outside the window. 

The sun set so much quicker in winter. You barely got to enjoy the day before darkness settled. It  was setting pink today. 

“I’ll go with you guys. On New Years. Just, pick me up if you can” you say and he nods with a small smile. 

______

On that same day, Heeseung landed back in town. His father  asked him to come back in time for the New Years event he was hosting, once again. 

“What a fabulous suit, truly!” a middle aged woman comments, amused. She has a wide, bright smile on her face as she eyes Haejun “Let me guess, Canali?” she coos, a smirk creeping at the corner of her lips. 

Heeseung’s brother chuckles, the forced elegance lacing his  fake smile “Both the suit and overcoat. It’s nothing special though” he smiles, and soothes down the cashmere mantle. 

Lee Haejun runs a hand through his dark, silky hair, his posture relaxed in a ‘cool’ way.

Heeseung thinks it’s pretty humorous, the way Haejun is flirting with a 40 year old woman, whose hair is visibly turning gray. Her husband is probably somewhere in this crowd, trying to get closer to his father, just like all the other men who were lucky enough to even be invited. 

The lady has been ogling his brother for the past 5 minutes, not even noticing Heeseung who stood right next to him. 

He scoffs. 

“Oh, Heeseung. I didn’t notice you” she smiles faintly, but her eyes don’t even linger on him for a second longer, already back in conversation with Haejun “Oh and this scarf! Haejun, you have such phenomenal taste!” she celebrates him again, and he just chuckles at her excitement. 

Heeseung doesn't feel like standing there, looking like a fucking idiot that’s just waiting to get complimented on his Saint Laurent overcoat that quite frankly, was more expensive than Haejun’s. 

He doesn’t feel like being here at all. 

He thinks about everything; how these annual New Year’s dinners have ruined the holiday for him all together, how the man at the table in front of him has a giant bald spot on his head, how the hardbody on his right has pretty fuckable tits even though she’s probably in her mid 40s, how his mother is obviously having an affair with the hotels revenue manager, and most importantly, about you. 

He hasn’t felt anything since that unlucky Sunday night. It was suffocating, to be so conscious of his own decisions. But just like he’d been a coward that time, he still was too afraid to reach out and apologize. 

Maybe soon enough he’d find himself at your front porch, knocking on the door softly, a nice gift in hand, the smile you adore plastered all over his condescending face. 

That’s how it usually worked in his life; even the worst of heartbreaks and fights could be resolved with a pretty bag, new sports car or nice jewelry. That’d work on you too, wouldn’t it? He’d ask one of the maids that looked after his home to pick out something she’d like to recieve, and you’d probably be satisfied with that, maybe even suck him off later. 

Seeing you with Sunghoon enlightened something deep in his soul, something he’d never admit to himself. Heeseung didn't know if it was Sunghoon he was jealous of or you. 

Sunghoon had experienced love in many forms throughout his life. A gentle  and mannerly boy cherished by the women in his life. His kind, youthful energy seemed effortless—something completely out of reach for someone as weathered and unsteady as Lee Heeseung.

You loved him, he already knew that much. So why was it so hard for him to give that back to you, show you that he feels the same? 

He was such a selfish person-he didn't want to see you surviving on your own, or not needing him just as much as he needs you.  

Heeseung understood he could never give you the love you deserved. Yet, the idea of being replaced by Sunghoon was something he refused to accept. 

His eyes wander across the dimly lit space, desperately looking for someone who could give him a reason to leave his table. But he couldn’t stand any of them. He hated their fake pleasantries, their overblown gestures, and the emptiness behind their eyes.

They weren’t here to celebrate the passing year, spread joy and excitement for the coming days. 

All these lost, desperate people were here, hoping, praying to God that maybe this is the day his father notices them, gives them a chance to become as wealthy and glorious as him. 

“I was thinking about Oxford, possibly this upcoming September” he picks up on Haejun’s words and if not for the people and photographers that seemed to be on every possible side, he would’ve punched the shit out of his brother. 

Oxford, Harvard, Princeton, who gave a fuck? 

He sighs again but this time neither Haejun or the lady in front of him pick up on his mannerisms. 

He feels a sudden tap on his shoulder, the feeling making him jump back a bit.He groans under his breath, the sound inaudible for the one behind him, and turns around slowly. 

He didn't expect to see Park Sunghoon here. 

… 

“They don’t have a nice bathroom to do coke in” Heeseung shrugs, nibbling at his bottom lip as Sunghoon breathes out a laugh at his inquiry. 

He looks around the tiled, black bathroom, which is surprisingly empty. The light above the sink flickers in a weird way, and Heeseung wonders if it’s supposed to be like that. 

“We don’t do that anymore” Sunghoon mutters, leaning against the cold, slippery surface of the wall, his head slightly slumped. 

He looks up at Heeseung, his reflection much more familiar in the mirror. They are much closer than he thinks, the same worn out expression all over their faces.  

“Yeah… Guess those days are over” he smiles weakly, although the growing pit in his stomach makes him feel uneasy. 

He’s avoiding the topic, throwing random words in the air as his heart speeds up. Sunghoon’s avoiding it too. The words linger on their tongues but it feels like they're stuck. He can’t stomach starting a serious topic with his friend who's never been there for him in an emotional way. 

“I remember that party so vividly” Heeseung chuckles lightly, watching Sunghoon intently through the mirror. The boy is avoiding eye contact. 

“When Jay took a line and we thought we’d lost him, huh? I remember, yeah” he forces a smile although the memory is definitely not a sweet one.

Heeseung chuckles softly, his thoughts drifting to when they were actually good friends to each other. It wasn’t even that long ago, but so much has happened since that Heeseung almost forgot those times.  

He felt it with you again. In a way you brought that comfort back to him with your soft spoken voice and tender smile. But with you, he was on the brink of inescapable change. Heeseung knew that everyday he was teetering closer to the end. 

He looks back up at Sunghoon, and although his vision is slightly blurred, he notices that the wounds are completely healed now. The only tangible evidence of that night is now gone. 

“Did it leave a scar?” he asks, his voice cracking. He clears his throat, turning to face Sunghoon, who touches the corner of his lip softly. 

He shakes his head “No”. His tone is stony. He suddenly reminds himself to garbage the white button up in his wardrobe. 

“That’s good” Heeseung hums and the silence overcomes them again. It’s uncomfortable and the awkwardness between them bears so much unfamiliarity. It’s such a foreign experience. 

The tension grows thicker as Sunghoon speaks up “You know we can’t avoid it, right?” 

Heeseung feels a bead of sweat trickle down his spine as he ponders the suggestion. What could he possibly say to make it better, to make it disappear? He nods and meets Sunghoon’s unrelenting expression. 

“I don’t really think we could ever be friends again” Sunghoon says, his lip twitching slightly as the words finally roll off his tongue, the admission much more painful than he thought it’d be “Not when we both want the same thing” 

“What?” The words sink into his bones, his flesh shivering as he searches for at least an ounce of discomfort on Sunghoon’s face. 

“No matter what you told me that night, no matter how much you begged me to tell her because you didn't want to know how she’ll react, I know you feel it too. You said you didn't care, but you do, Heeseung. I care too” he explains, his voice stable. It’s almost as if he’s rehearsed this. 

It came to him during that long awaited shower. As the water came over him, so did the realization. 

“If you like it or not, I will keep on trying even if it doesn't work out. But either way, I think this is where it ends between us. I don’t want to be stuck on the idea that it could ever be the same” the air felt heavier with the tension that separated them. 

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. Heeseung never thought it’d come to this. 

“You like her, right? It wasn't something to make her feel better..?” he asked, glossing over the fact that this exact spot set the end of their friendship. 

Glossing over the fact that the relationship between you and him complicated his whole life. Yet a part of him still yearned for you. 

“I’m not like you, Heeseung. I don’t tell girls I like them to make them feel better” he chuckled lowly as Heeseung's expression darkened, taking offense to his words. 

Heeseung scoffed, not quite enjoying the cutting reminder of his bad habits. 

“Do as you please, I don’t give a fuck. But I also don’t plan on making it easy for you. I don't give up what’s mine just like that” Heeseung’s words carry a playful edge, but there’s an undercurrent of expectation, a reminder of the shared history and intimacy. 

Sunghoon turns his head to the side, a stubby chuckle slipping past his parted lips. His gaze falls onto Heeseung after a moment, the boy leaning against the counter with an indifferent expression. 

“What, do you think she forgot? You think a couple racks can erase what you did? Bet you're not the one she calls everyday” a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, as he looks at Heeseung’s changing face. 

“You think that just because I wasn't here I don’t know what goes on? She couldn't give two fucks about you. You don’t intimidate me, Sunghoon” he retorts, his eyes dark as he pushes himself off the sink and shortens the distance between him and Sunghoon “Couldn’t even get past her underwear, fucking pussy” he whispers. 

He nudges Sunghoon’s shoulder during his exit, scoffing angrily as he slams the door shut, leaving his once best-friend alone with the afterthought of his words. 

Sunghoon doesn't regret it. He feels good. He feels the weight drop from his heart, his blood flowing calmly as his eyebrows don’t furrow in annoyance anymore. 

He watches the door for a moment before turning to the mirror, adjusting his jacket and hair, smiling as he takes in his reflection. 

_____ 

On New Year's Eve a car parks in your driveway. Your brother wasn’t home, and by the looks of it, he wasn't going to be any time soon. 

You don’t really remember the last time you sat down for a meal with Eunseok. You couldn't blame him though. Your parents always repeated that saving another human's life will always be more important than spending time with family. Your brother would always stay your brother even if you started to forget the sound of his voice. 

Jay enters your house first. You can notice Jake sinking his head into the trunk, looking for something. 

The last time Jay was here his hair was still blond. He seems to have gotten a new haircut and dyed it back to black. He looked much softer now. 

“Back to black?” you smile and reach out to grab his coat. It feels illegal to hold and hang his black Prada corduroy jacket. It looked so out of place next to your own coats that were all bought at basic chain stores at the mall. 

“You like it?” he asks, quickly turning his head to check on Jake. Jay’s gaze falls back onto you, a soft glimmer in his eyes. 

He changed. He wasn't the same misogynistic narcissist that you were initially introduced to. He became much kinder- a person you actually found yourself getting along with. 

Jay came home extremely drunk on the 22nd of December. Screw walking a straight line when the boy couldn't even walk at all. Just like it had been unlucky for his friends, he too was met with his demise as his father sat in the living room with a girl Jay didn't recognize. 

Probably his new girlfriend. 

He was furious. He went through Jay’s phone that night- every photo of his son with girls in more or less intimate situations, every message between Jay and his dealers, every single bank transaction at the liquor store. He saw it all that night. 

One word too much on Jay’s behalf, and suddenly, there’s a stinging pain on his left cheek. And before he can react, his father slaps him again. And again, harder than the last. 

He saw himself in his son for the first time. He realized what he had done to his own, precious child. The look in his eyes, pure fear and disgust. They weren't much different after all. 

“Yeah, it’s nice. You look good” you nod with a straight smile, and he looks a bit embarrassed at the compliment. 

Jake finally runs into the home, a smile on his face. Without saying a word, you nod your head towards the now closed trunk. 

“We thought the bottles shattered” he explained and you looked over at Jay, confused. 

“I thought you were done with drinking” you asked, and he grinned sheepishly. 

“Today is the last time, I promise. New year, new me, let’s say” 

They walked around your home, visiting every room, every bathroom, checking every picture. You couldn't care less, focusing on getting yourself ready. 

“You used to be emo?” Jake laughs, walking back to your room. You roll your eyes at him, knowing exactly what picture he was talking about. 

“Your brother is really hot,” Jay says, leaning his hands against the backrest of your chair. He looks at himself and you through the mirror “You look hot too” he adds with a sly smirk. 

Your only reply is a smile, not being the best at receiving compliments. His eyes stay on you for a little longer than they should. 

“Jungwon just texted me,” Jake announces, his body turning in your fresh sheets. His dirty shoes have left marks on the white fabric, but he doesn't seem to notice. “Heeseung just arrived. He’s with fuckass Seora” he laughs along with Jay, while you try to process his statement.

It didn’t take him long to find your replacement. You remember the girl, having been paired up with her for a science project at the beginning of the semester. She was so beautiful. 

“That fucking nerd? What’s wrong with him” Jay comments, and you realize how you too were once like Seora. Heeseung hasn't changed, not at all. 

Jake’s phone rings, his eyes darting to the screen. He excuses himself, the call seemingly important as he leaves the room swiftly. 

You are left alone with Jay who mindlessly scrolls through his Instagram homepage, liking and commenting on his friends posts. 

“Can you help me?” you ask, and his reaction to your voice is almost immediate. He sets his phone aside, his full attention once again falling onto you. A hint of concern flashes over his eyes as your expression seems troubled. 

“Mhm?” he hums, walking over to your figure. 

“Can you zip this up for me?” you ask, turning around. 

He stays silent for a moment, before brushing his fingers against the bare skin of your back, grasping at the slippery zipper. He carefully brings the fabric together, taking care not to pull too tight or snag the delicate material. 

He steps back, looking at you, smiling warmly “There” 

Whenever his sister would ask him, he’d flip her off and tell her to leave his room. 

Jay’s eyes take in your figure, the way he’s never really gotten to see your nice body under all the baggy clothes you’d wear. It feels wrong to think about you like this, but it’s not like this is the first time either. 

He may have changed, even in the slightest, but there was always that one person who was too late. 

…

Shot after shot of vodka find themselves appearing in your hand as you down each one with a twisted expression. The people around you seem much more cheerful than you, and you wonder how long it’ll take for this alcohol to finally start doing its thing. 

You turn to Jake, who’s been gripping your hand tightly, at least that’s what you thought. Instead of a smiley Jake, it’s Kim Sunoo who has been apparently keeping you safe. That would be all for ‘we want you to be there’. 

“Going already?” Sunoo perks up, loosening his grip on you as he sees you trying to squeeze through the crowd. 

“I just need some fresh air” you offer him a small smile “I’ll be back” 

It’s 10:37. Only an hour and 23 minutes until midnight. By that time, half the guests won’t even be awake to witness it. You wonder what fireworks look like on this side of town. 

Jungwon’s house isn’t that hard to navigate. It was big, but you imagined bigger. It’s mid-sized, maybe. You note how his parents have good taste- the mediterranean estate very much to your liking. 

You find yourself on one of his acacia armchairs in the backyard terrace. Most people are inside. It  wasn’t the warmest day.   

There’s no wind today, not even snow. The temperature hasn't dropped below zero celsius this season. You really wanted the snow to fall soon. 

You can tell from the corner of your eye that someone has accompanied you on the chair next to yours. You assume it’s someone just as tired as you, someone who's just counting down the minutes  until midnight so they can get out of here. 

Maybe it’s Jake. But you swore you saw him hitting up some girls on your way out. 

“Want one?” you almost don’t recognize the voice. It’s been so long. 

The person extends a pack of cigarettes in your direction, and that’s when you decide to face them. 

You haven't spoken to Nishimura Riki in a long time. He doesn't even look the same. But it’s only been 4 months? 

“I don’t smoke” you reply, and he nods, lighting the stick in his mouth, protecting the flame with the palm of his hand. 

He hisses, exhaling the smoke. It blows in your direction, and you scrunch your nose at the smell. 

“Where’s your sweet boy, Heeseung?” he asks, his tone mocking. You roll your eyes, exhaling deeply. 

He laughs at your silence, but still waits for you to respond, taking another puff. 

“We don’t talk anymore” you could lie but honestly, it seemed meaningless now. It didn't matter what you’d say, things wouldn't change. 

“Lasted the longest. Can’t say I’m not impressed” he replied with a chuckle. Only God knew how much you wanted to slap the boy next to you right now. 

“Fuck off, Niki” you groan, and he puts up his hands, laughing. He’s slightly taken aback by your candidness- he didn't meet this version of you. 

Niki remembers you as the sweet, innocent and most certainly lost girl that had no idea what she was getting herself into. Now it seemed as if Heeseung had drained all that life out of you. 

“I’m not here to make fun of you” there’s a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he still gauge's your reaction to his jab. 

You hum, unamused “Sure” 

He sighs, trying to hide the annoyance caused by your stubbornness. Niki throws what's left of his cigarette on the ground, crushing it with his shoe. Rick Owens, you note. 

“I know you and Wony aren’t on the best terms but she cares about you. I do to” his tone softens “I just want you to live on your own now. Don’t let him take over your life again” 

Niki follows all the patterns the stars are forming with his eyes, while you notice the sincerity in his face. Today the moon is barely visible. There was a New Moon yesterday, so tonight, not  even 3% of the orb is visible. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask, and he shrugs. 

The air seems to vibrate with unspoken tension. Niki stays silent for a moment, because he doesn't really know if he has an answer. 

He shouldn't care. He doesn't know you, and you don't know anything about him either. Jesus, if Wonyoung saw him here, he’d be on probation until February. But he saw this happen countless times and every single one stung just as bad. 

“I don’t know. I guess I wanted you to know” he finally answers, a genuine glimmer in his eyes as they fall on yours for just a second. 

You can’t muster up a smile. It’d be too forced anyway. You hope that the nod is enough for him to understand that you do in fact appreciate his words. 

He doesn't say anything and neither do you. It’s mostly noiseless, apart from the faintest melody that flows through the cracks in the window. The only people out here with you are either smoking themselves or talking to someone on the phone. 

You hadn't really told anyone what happened. Of course, you could probably tell Niki, he wouldn't forward it to Wonyoung or anyone else. You could call the boy many names, some better than others, but you knew you couldn't call him untrustworthy. He always kept his word, no matter what. 

But you bite back your tongue. 

“Nice chat, huh? Can I steal her for a moment?” 

Lee Heeseung. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn't want to see him tonight. You weren't wondering if you’d see him, rather when and how. He couldn't run away from talking to you, and well, it appears that he didn't want to anyway.  

With what feeling would you look back on this moment? With sadness? With shame? Indifference, you hoped. 

Would you regret it? Because maybe some things are better left unsolved, right? Sometimes it’s okay to not have an answer. You’ve already learned that firsthand. 

It was too late, Niki already letting the older boy replace him on the armchair, his face filled with remorse, maybe even guilt as he walked back into the house. He only hoped that you were smarter this time. 

You turned your gaze away, because he was looking at you, and it obviously flustered you. He saw your expression, and even though your face twisted in annoyance, you still wanted him to look at you. 

It wasn’t him you hated, but what the two of you did. 

The secret was forever meant to stay between the two of you. And as long as that’s true, it's always casting a shadow over everything good in you. 

“How was Australia? Did you have fun?” you sounded unimpressed, and he noticed. 

Heeseung felt oddly embarrassed to be here with you. He left you with no explanation, and yet you're still asking how his vacation was. Honest or not, he feels like half the man he was before. 

“How did you know?” he asks, a glint of playfulness in his voice. 

“You still share your location with me” you stated, and he nodded. He knew. You were the only person he shared it with in the first place. 

“You check my location?” he chuckles, trying to alleviate the charged atmosphere. His attempts brought no fruit as your expression stayed the same- cold and uninterested. 

“No” he can’t figure out what to say next. It used to be so easy to talk to you. 

But you were the same when he first met you- stand-offish and unwilling. It won’t take him long to figure the right words out, he’s sure of it. 

Heeseung doesn't know why he’s trying this hard. Maybe it’s because now he knows his friend wants it just as much. In what universe did Park Sunghoon have something Heeseung didn’t? Not in this one, and the latter was continuously making sure of it. 

“Can we talk about us?” he finally speaks up after the prolonged moment of uncomfortable silence. He doesn't really know what ‘us’ was. Definitely not a relationship. He doesn't do that, never has. He just prays that you actually had something smart to say. 

“Us?” you bark back a laugh, and he leans against the beige pillow with a sigh. 

Heeseung had been willingly ignoring the messages he saw you sending. He could always disguise that as not wanting to talk about it over text. But in reality, he didn't want to talk about it at all. He just hoped that a ‘sorry’ would be enough. 

“You know what I mean. Don’t be stupid” his voice is laced with a twinge of irritation. He didn't expect it to take this long for you to break. 

“What the fuck are you even talking about, Heeseung?” you turn to face him fully now. 

His hair is no longer dark red. It’s brown, almost black. And he has a completely different haircut. It compliments his tan skin. He’s also dressed differently. You can’t quite recall seeing him like this. 

“Seriously, what do you want to talk about? It wasn’t real, not to you at least. So please, tell me what exactly it is that you want to talk about” his expression is a mix of annoyance and anger now. His jaw clenches as his eyes narrow. You surely allowed yourself to say too much, didn’t you? 

“Careful, Y/n. Watch your tone” he laughs menacingly, standing up from his seat. His hands grip the sides of your chair, as he stares down at you, his face too close for comfort. 

“Downplay what we had, and what’s still between us all you want. But you know it’s real. You might be wiser now, but you haven’t really changed. You still want it just as much” his expression darkens, a defensiveness to his voice. 

All he did was see the potential in you, the spark hidden beneath your innocent surface. He fed that fire, helped it grow until it burned through them both. Heeseung taught you to be a woman. He didn't wrong you, he helped you. 

Leaning in, he nuzzles your neck, his breath hot on your skin “So how about you quit acting all tough and just let me have you again, yeah?” 

He no longer knew how to control himself. No one did. 

When he was younger he believed in God. Even when he started at Saint Matthew’s, he considered himself religious. Maybe he liked it because it made his nights just a little less lonely, or maybe because it filled him with a sense of identity. He knew that no matter what, there’s always that one person, an otherworldly figure that will love him endlessly, have control over him. 

And when he felt himself drift away from his faith, it became a saga of bad decisions after bad decisions. Not because he stopped believing, but because there was no longer anyone to control him. 

“You must be out of your fucking mind if you think I’d do that” your lips are parted as he continues to brush his past your neck, jawline and mouth. 

“Keep talking to me like that and you’ll regret it” he whispers with a sinful grin, his fingers reaching up to caress your cheek “Let’s just forget about what happened. You know I meant what I said” 

“That you love me?” you laugh, and you can notice him bite down on the inside of his cheek. “Just leave me alone, Heeseung. Go find someone else and I’ll do the same” you try to be as calm as possible. He can’t know it’s affecting you. 

Someone else? No, that can’t be possible. You are the only one who listens to him, you are the only one that’s there for every one of his requests. He can’t just let you go like that. It wouldn't be that easy to replace you. 

“Sunghoon, right? That fucking prick, seriously?” he straightens his figure, letting out a frustrated sigh. 

“I never brought him up” you mutter, and he scoffs. 

Heeseung’s  eyes slightly narrow, while his lips press into a thin line. 

The silence that follows is heavy, filled only by the quiet chatter of other people that were out here with you. 

“Please, Y/n. You can’t do this” his tone becomes softer as a pleading look decorates his features. 

You don’t really know what else there is to say. 

His words- louder and longer, were given a physical form and longevity as if they had a life of their own now. 

It almost made you think you forgive him. 

____ 

During morning prayer you saw him again. 

He still had that lifeless look on his face, as if nothing had really changed at all. As if nothing ever happened in the first place. He was two rows in front of you, next to Niki and Sunoo. 

You wanted to catch him looking at you, to have his eyes on you. 

All the students gathered in the chapel next to the school at 7:30. Punctuality was key. Under no circumstances was tardiness allowed- those who dared to come in a minute late were not allowed to participate and got punished with after-school detention. 

Heeseung knelt down next to you. You hoped Sunghoon wouldn't see it. 

‘In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen’

He signs the cross and so do you. “I missed you” Heeseung whispers, his hand softly brushing against your thigh. 

“Don’t” you mutter back, swatting his hand away. 

One of the students was leading today's Morning Offering. 

You tried to focus on Sunghoon. Maybe his hair changed, or maybe his skin got tanner. He got a little skinnier, you note. Sunoo whispers something to him but he doesn't seem to listen. 

“Stop,” Heeseung whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your skin. You move away from him, watching how amusing this is for him. 

“What?” His presence is strong, the pull almost working involuntarily. 

‘...Or does so much bad feeling accumulate within us that we learn to mold it into a big lump of emotions, with amnesties and pardons? Or does the presence of the other, who yesterday morning was almost like an intruder to us, become more and more necessary, because it protects us from our own hell?’ 

You can’t listen, you can’t comprehend. No matter where, there's something pulling your attention. 

“Don’t look at him” Heeseung’s voice is firm, his eyes on you. He’s always watching. 

After a short reflection is spoken, a brief moment of silence follows. You close your eyes, leaning forward. 

"We pray for our community, that we may learn and grow together in love and wisdom,"  the intention is spoken, and after reciting a prayer together, the students start rising from their spots slowly. 

Sunghoon’s gaze doesn't even wander in your direction. He doesn't look at anyone, speeding out of the chapel as soon as the prayer commences. You want to go after him, but Heeseung stops you before you could even fully decide on it. 

“Don’t go” 

You turn around, watching his eyes that are full of amusement. 

Is he enjoying himself this much? Does this entertain him? 

“Heeseung, stop it. It’s over between us, remember? Leave me alone, seriously” you don’t sound heated or outraged. Not even resentful. Simply tired. 

He doesn't react to your words. He knows you don't mean it. 

You knew he wouldn't stop. You knew that as long as he was here, it’d never stop. He was obsessed and giving up wasn't really an option. 

There were exceptions though. During study break, or lunch you wouldn't see him much. Maybe because the repugnance towards Jay and Jake was stronger than his willingness to see you. It didn't really matter though. 

The part of you that liked the attention made you sick. It was hard to admit, and you most definitely wouldn't tell anyone. After everything, you still couldn't resent him. The hate continued to only bring you closer. 

“When is New York?” Jake asked, his fingers tapping away on his laptop. 

Jake was failing in most of his classes and he was slowly running out of time. What he had already learned stayed with him, but now, he had to catch up on a whole semester worth of material. 

“Next week? I think” you reply and he mutters something under his breath. You don't catch it. 

“Such a boring destination” Jay comments and you breathe out a chuckle in response. What an out of touch thing to say. 

“We know, Jongseong. You’ve been there, have an apartment in SoHo and plan on going to NYU” he knows it’s a joke, he’s learned to not take offense to such silly things by now. But no one really calls him Jongseong. 

Only his mother does. He hates it just as much as he hates her. But this time- he savors the sound, how easily it slips past your lips and how satisfyingly it rings in his ears. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. 

“I’ve never been” Jake piques, and you murmur a ‘Me too’ in response. He doesn't lift his eyes from the screen- it’s almost like he’s glued in place. It’s only the occasional loud sound or cramp in his leg that makes him move. 

The trip was only for juniors and seniors. It wasn't the cheapest, but Eunseok didn't comment when you asked him for the money. His worn-out figure just scribbled out a check and handed it to you. 

The main point was supposed to be St. Patrick’s Cathedral. You didn't really care for the building. Jake didn't either. You two had already planned to sneak out for dinner and shopping while the tour went on. 

“I’m rooming with Heeseung” Jake sighed, taking off his glasses to wipe them with his blazer “That fucking dickhead signed us up last week. Didn't even know until Mrs. Kim told me” 

Jay laughed. He passed Jake wet wipes, noticing how the boy can’t get his glasses clean. 

“I’m rooming with Sunghoon. Haven't really talked to him, though” Jay says, and you both nod. 

A small smile creeps onto your lips “I’m alone” 

You didn't mind at all. You could do whatever you wished without an annoying bitch telling you to go to sleep because ‘your phone screen is keeping her awake’. 

“Can I stay with you? Please” Jake pleads and you shake your head almost instantly. The boy frowns upon seeing your reaction. 

______ 

New York felt oddly familiar. 

These faces- they didn't carry that sense of foreignness. Everyone went about their day without interest in what the person next to them is up to. You felt a good kind of loneliness even though you were never truly alone. 

Little Italy and Chinatown were fun.  

You, Jay and Jake managed to slip out for a second, sharing a meal at a Cantonese restaurant. The food was quite enjoyable and the ambience was great. Jay did complain a bit though. 

That same night you went out for drinks. When all the guardians fell asleep, on cue,  everyone sneaked out of their rooms. Heeseung, rooming with Jake, found out about the plans that he wasn't included in. Of course he still tagged along. 

Jay mentioned that Sunghoon has been so quiet, it almost feels like suicide everytime they are in the room together. 

“I ask him if he wants to shower first, right? And you know what this decadent bum does? Nothing. He won’t even reply to me” 

He wanted to complain more, but Heeseung’s angered and ostentatious sigh forced him to stop. He only looked over at Jake confused before switching to a different topic. 

The next day you saw almost all the museums in Manhattan. 

Your feet were in so much pain by the time you reached The Museum of Modern Art. While Jay and Jungwon walked around pretending to care for the artwork, you and Jake sat in a corner talking and recording dumb vlogs. 

“Say hello to Jake’s vlog” he laughed, shoving the camera into your face. Jake’s stupid smile could be heard from behind the screen, his amusement making the video much more adorable. 

With an annoyed grimace, you shoved the camera away from your face. Jake was unrelenting and it made napping nearly impossible. 

“We’re in some shitty museum” he said sadly, the tone complimenting his mock expression of misery “You know what boggles me? That my dear friend Jay is pretending he likes this. No one likes this. It’s all just ugly paintings that have a forced meaning attached to them” 

“Boggles me? What are you, fucking 50?” you laugh, looking over to him. “What else am I supposed to say” his lips twist in a downwards smile.

“Just say ‘Hello’ to my vlog” he pleads again. 

Rubbing your temples, a sigh escapes your lips again. You looked up at Jake before staring right into his phone camera. 

“Hello” your unenthusiastic tone was menacing to Jake. 

He gave you a playful shove “Happier” Jake commanded. 

You look over at  him wide eyed. After a moment of his unchanging stare, you plaster a forced smile on your face that doesn't quite reach your eyes. 

“Hi” you even attempt a wave. 

Jake laughed, and turned the camera to face him again. “That’s my stripper friend Y/n. Call me to book a lap dance. It’s real” he whispered, the camera too close to his face. 

He turned the camera back to you. You shook your head as a  lighthearted laugh slipped past your parted lips “Turn this off, Jake. You’re wasting storage, you fucking idiot” 

Later that day the two of them offered to go out again since Jay had actually brought the keys to his fathers apartment. You declined. 

Maybe you’d try to call your brother, share some photos with him. It surprised you to actually get an answer. It didn't last long though- 5 minutes in he had to hang up because of an emergency surgery. 

You think about Heeseung. You think about everything, really. In the evening waiting for him becomes much more annoying. The thought of him becomes unbearable, because you’re not supposed to think about him. 

Rejecting him was almost an immediate reaction. The idea of him was much nicer than having him there, so raw and real in front of you. 

It was strange to him too- fearing the days where you were away and he had no idea where you’d gone. 

Thinking about Sunghoon was much more grounding. Much more humanly and justified. His blank stare and cold demeanor, unchanging. Nothing brought you the answer you needed. You wished he’d look at you long enough to see that same thirst for life he noticed back in December. 

A knock at the door sounds through your hotel room. It’s soft, barely audible. 

It’s probably Jake, or Jay. You look down at the time and note that it’s a reasonable time for them to be back. They’ve been out for a good 3 hours now. 

You open the door, and it doesn't really hit you at first. Sunghoon must've gotten the wrong room. 

Your attempts to look calm are futile as your voice cracks “What are you doing here..?” he stands there for a moment, his lips parted. It’s almost like he doesn't really know either.

As you step back to let him enter, he hesitates briefly “You’re alone?” His voice is mellow. The dim light in the room casts a shadow on his face making him appear much more gloomy than usual. 

You nod reluctantly. Your gaze is on him, searching, as if asking for permission to speak, continue. 

There's a moment of deep silence. It isn't uncomfortable or awkward. He's in your presence and you're in his. That seems to be enough to console the immediate tranquility. 

“Do you like it here?” he asks and it seems to strike you as unusual. He never really bothered to converse with others unless they initiated it. 

The scene is oddly familiar. He sits next to you on the bed, propping his body up on his hands. Just like you were immensely aware of each other's closeness that night, it's the same today. 

This time though it seems like it's Sunghoon's turn to find excuses to avoid the topic. And you let it happen.

“Yeah. It’s fun” you nod, and so does he. Against your will you ask a question that in different circumstances, wouldn't even make it past your throat- “Are you hiding from me?” 

Sunghoon’s heart skips a beat as he looks down at your hand. It’s dangerously close to his thigh “No, not from you” his answer is hesitant. 

“It feels like it” he bites the inside of his cheek at your words. 

His fingers play with the fabric of your white sheets “Maybe in a way I was” his voice softens, his eyes scared to look at you.  

“In what way?” you mutter. The air feels ominous, as if you're both threatening the unchangeable. 

“You know” he starts, his hand reaching closer “I was afraid to be denied” 

Sunghoon saw you call, his finger hovering over the answer button many times as he wondered what he’d even tell you. There were so many things he wanted to say. So he’d just flip the phone over. 

Today he was braver. Or at least that’s what he thought. Because being eye to eye with you again, stripped him of it all. 

“I thought you knew I wouldn't. I called you. And texted, a lot” you answered, and his lips pressed into a straight line. 

His touch is tentative. Eventually,  he reaches out towards you, his warm hand takes yours, interlacing your fingers “And I should’ve answered. I’m sorry. For not being more” he looks at you again, the warmth in his eyes genuine “Because I know you wanted me to be more” 

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes. You laugh “This is so stupid” 

You halt the tears from spilling down your cheeks. Sunghoon’s lips form into a small smile “It’s not” 

You look down at your fingers intertwined. He’s looking too. 

You can hear some girls stumble their way into the room next to yours. Judging by the voice, you think  it’s Minjeong. She says something about a 45 year old man coming to see her soon. She also seems to be begging her friend for one more drink ‘Last one, promise! I’m not drunk enough, Ning!’ 

Sunghoon doesn't say anything until the commotion dies down. Neither do you. 

“Sloshed at 11. Crazy work” he chuckles, and so do you. You nod, thinking that Jake is probably somewhere in a corner, throwing up. He was definitely not the drinker everyone made him out to be. 

He leans in closer, his eyes just for a moment searching yours for acceptance. His head falls down on your shoulder. 

“Hoon?” your voice is just above a whisper. 

He hears it again. It’s just as nice as it was back then. The sound is almost natural. He thinks you were made to call out to him. In contrast to last time, he’s much more optimistic. 

He hums, ushering you to continue “Did you mean it?” He doesn't need you to explain, because he knows exactly what you're referring to. 

A small laugh slips past his lips “I think me being here right now answers that one for you” he rises from the softness of your shoulder slowly, savoring the intimacy. A small smile forms on your lips at his words. 

Pulling back, your eyes fall onto him again. Being with Sunghoon was so easy. 

He pats his lap gently. His eyes are soft, almost begging “Come here” he whispers. The words are heavy with longing. They mingle in the air for just a second longer.

You nod after a moment of hesitation. As you settle onto him, his arms weave around your waist. He draws you into his warmth with his delicate touch. His face nestles into the hollow of your neck as he breathes softly, melting into the comfort of your presence. 

Something seemed to have removed the distance between you and Sunghoon, and for a moment you had the impression that there was absolutely no difference in wealth, age or anything else between you. It was a wonderfully free and unleashing moment where you weren’t really expected to be anything.   

“I’m sorry” he sounds shy, almost embarrassed. 

Sunghoon was never the type to apologize. He’d rather let the conflict simmer down on its own without any further interference. Yet here he was- being vulnerable and honest. 

“You already apologized” you smile, your fingers tangled in his hair. 

He chuckles lightly “Once is not enough” he mutters into your skin, the sound muffled. You feel his wet lips move against your neck. 

He raises his head, looking down at you again. “Can I kiss you?”

A sense of contentment washes over you. You nod, lips parted, waiting for him.

He gently tilts your chin up, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. A soft breath escapes you before he finally captures your lips in a deep, consuming kiss. It quickly grows messy, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. You grasp the neckline of his shirt as his tongue teases the seam of your mouth—seeking, almost begging for entrance.

Sunghoon pulls back, his breathing heavy, his lovesick eyes locked onto you. His lips glisten, slick with your desire.

He presses a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your neck, working his way down to your chest. You watch him through heavy lids, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. His hands slide beneath your shirt, fingers caressing your smooth skin. “Undress for me, please.” There’s a hint of desperation in his words as he tugs at the fabric.

You smile, cupping his cheek. Your thumb glides over his lips, gently parting them. “I don’t know…”

He whimpers quietly, grinding his clothed erection against you. “Don’t tease me. I need to see you.” His movements grow more frantic, his hands grasping at you like he’s desperate to feel every inch.

His face flushes with excitement as you hook your fingers under the hem of your shirt. “Want me to take this off?”

“Fuck, yes.” He nods eagerly, eyes devouring your every movement. One hand drifts down, palming himself through his pants as he watches, entranced.

With slow, deliberate motions, you peel the fabric from your body and toss it onto a nearby chair. His eyes widen with each inch of skin revealed.

“You’re desperate,” you tease, replacing his hand with your own. A feathery moan slips from his lips.

He throws his head back. “Is it obvious?” he breathes, and you confirm with a hum.

“I don’t care,” he admits, his eyes slipping shut as he pushes into your palm, eager for more.

Sunghoon thought about this all the time. He felt like such a pervert, but God, it was finally happening—and it was so much better than he ever imagined.

Last time, he was so close. Ten more minutes and a locked door, and he would’ve had you. Heeseung might have been the first to have you, but Sunghoon planned to be the one who had you best. He’d make you come over and over again until you forgot all about Lee Heeseung.

And judging by the way you were looking at him, it was already starting to work.

“I really need to fuck you,” he groans, biting his lower lip. His breathing is uneven. “So bad.” His fingers trail up your thigh, his touch light, pleading.

“Yeah?” You let out a small laugh, climbing off his lap. Your hands find the soft material of his pants.

He lifts his hips immediately, watching intently as your fingers slide the fabric down his legs.

Sunghoon can feel his heartbeat quickening, his whole body trembling with anticipation. You didn’t know he could get like this. You also didn’t know you’d like it so much.

His breath hitches when you toy with the waistband of his boxers, his legs spreading involuntarily. “Take them off, pretty,” he rasps, his voice cracking. “See how hard I am for you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, slipping his underwear down. He groans as the fabric slides along his length, his cock springing free.

You prop yourself up on one hand, the other lingering around his thick, leaking length. “Want me to touch you?”

He exhales sharply, his cock twitching against his lower abdomen. “Mhm.” He props himself up on his elbows, eyes dark with need. “Please.”

You press your palm against his tip, moving in slow, circular motions. His breath turns ragged as he throws his head back, surrendering to the feeling.

As your confidence grows, so does your pace. Your hand strokes him, faster, firmer. He pants lightly, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. “Ride me.”

You smirk and nod, slipping out of your shorts, fingers teasing the waistband of your underwear. He bites his lip, eyes smoldering with lust as his legs spread wider in invitation.

“Take them off me,” you whisper.

He looks up at you, almost as if seeking permission, before ripping the material away.

He’s so desperate to feel you, to touch you, that he wastes no time pulling you back onto his lap.

Sunghoon is mesmerized. He’s been with other girls before, but this is the first time he’s had to work for it. He usually just got what he wanted, no effort required. But now, with you, it feels like a reward. And he plans to cherish every second.

You’ve waited for this moment, savoring every touch, every lingering glance. Each look from him feels like a compliment and promise of something more.

He grips his throbbing length, aligning himself with your entrance. His other hand rests on your hip, steadying you. You can feel his tip pressing against you, and a low moan slips from your lips. He gazes up at you one more time, and you nod.

Slowly, you sink down onto him, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick length. A sharp gasp escapes you as you adjust, his fingers digging into your skin.

“Fuck, Hoon…” He keeps his hold firm, guiding you. “Like this? Is this what you wanted?”

“So fucking good,” he groans. His cock throbs inside you, hitting all the right spots with each downward roll of your hips. “Don’t stop.” His voice is raw with need.

He thrusts up to meet you, his whole body trembling as the wet heat of your cunt envelopes him completely. His self-control is slipping fast. If he had known it would feel this good, he never would have let Heeseung have you first. He would have taken you from the beginning.

You start to move faster, rocking your hips, pleasure building between you both. The sounds of your moans mix with the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

“So perfect,” he mutters through heavy breaths. “You’re so perfect.”

Your head falls back as Sunghoon presses a hand against your stomach, feeling himself inside you. He grits his teeth, trying to hold back, trying to make it last. But he can already feel it—the tightening coil deep in his core.

“I can’t,” you pant, your walls fluttering around him. The need for release is overwhelming.

With those words, he loses it. He pulls you flush against his chest, thrusting up into you at a frantic pace. “Fuck—gonna cum so deep inside you.”

His teeth sink into your shoulder, leaving red marks in their wake.

“So close, Hoon,” you whimper, and it pushes him to the edge.

He buries himself to the hilt, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as he spills inside you, thick and hot, filling you completely. His eyes roll back as he comes, shuddering beneath you.

You’re right behind him, your climax crashing over you in waves. Your body quivers, collapsing onto his sweaty chest. His cum seeps from your still-clenching walls as he slowly slips out, savoring every second of your tight heat around him.

He watches his seed leak from your fucked-out hole, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “So pretty,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse.

With a sigh, he falls onto his back, pulling you down with him.

Sunghoon feels completely content, his fingers lazily tracing patterns along your spine. He can feel your breath against his neck, warm and steady, making him smile.

Today feels like the first day of his life.

….

The rest of the trip was unparalleled. For you and Sunghoon at least. Others could wish to say the same thing. 

Everyday he'd attempt to sneak into your room at night. He even created a special sequence of knocks just so you'd be sure it's him. Jay didn't seem to suspect anything. 

On Wednesday night while using the bathroom he said he wants to film a Get Ready With Me. Just like the ones he'd seen on social media. You laughed, and agreed. This was so unlike him. In a good way though. 

You think about the unrecorded parts- how he stood in between your legs, his face twisted in discomfort as you clear his skin. 

 “Your lipstick choice is fucking terrible. Coral is not your color, Hoon” you smile widely. 

His lips were terribly overlined. The brown pigment reached high beyond his actual mouth. Sunghoon looked so stupid, but to you, it was adorable. 

“Do it for me next time” a fond smile spreads across his face. He holds your hand, his thumb tenderly rubbing your soft skin. 

You look at him with a raised eyebrow “Next time? Didn’t know my princess liked getting her makeup done” he playfully rolls his eyes at you. 

“Too far” he tries to hold back a smile, but his twitching lip gives it away “Keep going” he looks at the cotton pad in your other hand. 

You nod, scooting just a little closer to him. 

Sunghoon stood there silently, eyes closed. His body twitches involuntarily as your fingers graze against his skin. He feels your soft breathing against his neck. The warmth mixed with the soothing swipe of the cotton pad against his face, sends a shiver down his spine, as his body naturally relaxes against you. 

“Gone” you smile and his eyes flush open. His reflection stares back at him in the mirror. 

His skin is irritated, he can tell. And usually he’d freak out. But now, he doesn't seem to really care. 

The doting look in his eyes searched your expression, his hands sliding up and down your bare thighs. 

“You’re so hot,” he says. A small smirk creeps up on his lips as he keeps inching closer. 

“Sunghoon” you glare at him, attempting to look serious. His soft laughter breaks the facade pretty quickly. 

Without another word he presses his slightly stained lips against yours. He smiles against you, his mouth opening faintly. He reaches up to hold your cheek, chest pressing against yours. A moan escapes your mouth as he deepens the kiss. His tongue swipes your bottom lip before slipping past it. 

During field trips he’d find himself drifting closer to you. And when free time came around, he'd run off with you to different parts of the city he once fell in love with. 

With his arm around your shoulders, he’d point to cafes, restaurants,  street art and even benches. He was truly happy. And even if you weren't paying attention to his stories, the genuine smile on his face was enough. 

“No way” you gasp, the amusement evident on your face as you peel away his sleeve slightly “I swear Jake and Jay have the same one” 

Sunghoon laughs, watching you analyze the ‘4’ tattoo on his wrist. 

“They do,” he smiles weakly. “Heeseung has it too” you never noticed. 

You always knew about Jay’s- it was on his right palm. Just recently you saw Jake had it too, hidden on the back of his neck. 

“He does?” Sunghoon nods and points to his ankle. 

It's almost been a year since they got it, but the ink has already started fading away. In a way, Sunghoon was relieved. 

“We were so fucking out of it that night” he starts, and you turn to face him. “It was in Tokyo, I think? This girl we met, she was a tattoo artist” he looks down at it too and his eyes seem to light up “We thought it'd be funny “ 

You grab onto his wrist as he speaks again “My mom was so mad when she found out. She wanted it removed but I was such a fucking asshole to her back then, so I didn't listen” you don’t let go, moving your fingers upwards to hold onto his hand. He smiles. 

“You look badass. Sort of” he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“It looks bad and ass. And I swear her ink was from Aliexpress” he pulls you into his chest. 

It was getting dark outside, but the city was only becoming livelier. Everyone was in a rush, but their ambition and passion was almost tangible. 

“I’m jealous then. Matching tattoos, that's serious dedication” you smile and he laughs at the comment. 

His chin rests on the top of your head, his breathing slow and steady. He watches the orange haze that falls onto the landscape. 

“I’ll get your name tattooed” you hum and it almost sounds like you're judging him. He chuckles “Swear to God” 

“You’re insane” 

The next day he’d find a new spot to take you to. He was a better tour guide than your English teacher, you’d tell him. 

And Heeseung knew about it all. To say he was angry would be an understatement. 

He passed by St. Marks Place with Karina. The girl told him something about her sister being interested in him. He didn't really listen to her though.

 So many people passed by him- maybe 40 in the span of 5 seconds. A lot of them looked similar. New York fashion is diverse, but it really just comes down to the same thing, he notes. 

Yet he pays attention to them all, especially the two oddly familiar faces that stand in front of him, playing with a passerbys dog. 

Until now, Heeseung was pretty sure he had the situation under control. He was giving you the distance he deemed necessary. Still, his eyes never left you. And when they did, once, but for a period longer than ever, you manage to find yourself in the arms of Park Sunghoon again. 

Karina notices it too. He told her all about it, the whole story. She knew he was short-tempered so she never really told him that this wasn't healthy. It’d be on the tip of her tongue every time, lingering far too long for comfort. By the time she was ready, he’d change the topic. 

“She’s being unreasonable, right? Tell me I’m not insane” he asked. His eyes focused on the last sip of whiskey in his glass. 

You are, she thinks. 

“You can’t just expect her to move on because you said so” she wants to laugh, but judging by his worn-out expression, he’s not in the mood for humor. 

He scoffs. Why not? You never had an issue listening to him.

“I didn’t say so” he replies, and she looks at him with her eyebrow raised “I said sorry, Rina. What the fuck else is there to say?” 

“Nothing” Karina’s reply is almost automatic “That’s really the thing, you know? Sometimes sorry isn’t enough” her attempts at ‘comfort’ are fruitless- his head falls on the table after he finishes whatever was left of his drink. 

“Does this haircut make my face look weird?” 

Karina would laugh it off. She’d just let him go on about his haircut, the shoes he bought today, Jake’s glasses that he accidentally stepped on and the stray cat that almost bit him. 

She knew that it was a matter of time until he’d bring you up again. It was a cycle that never ended. 

While you deny him love, you give it to the same person he’s been trying to erase. And in a way it’s his fault- he left the cage open and you walked out. 

____

“Are you fucking serious right now? Two parents but still can’t slice up a tomato” Jay scolds the younger boy that was forced to help him in the kitchen. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jake retorts, his expression tired as he gives up on the job completely. The massacred tomato lies on the cutting board which Jay swiftly takes over. 

“Everything, Jake. Literally everything” he sighs, sending Jake away with his hand. 

Dinners, hangouts, parties and suddenly everything fell into place. There no longer was the inexplicable animosity hanging in the air. It felt strange at first- the conversations and acts of kindness turned into something a lot more authentic and domestic. This is what you missed the most, it seems. 

“You’re not getting into Harvard, fucking dumbass” Sunghoon laughed, digging his fork into the food prepared by Jay (and as he himself argued, Jake, who waited for the water to boil before dumping in the pasta). 

“My grades are better now” Jake asserted “You’ll see, I’ll have the last laugh. Just wait” the threat and seriousness in his expression makes you chuckle. 

“I’m gonna stay here” Sunghoon smiles. You look at him confused. You well remember him mentioning Princeton. 

“What about Princeton?” Jay brings it up before you manage to do so. Sunghoon shakes his head, setting down his utensils. 

“My step-mom is sick,” he reveals. You grab his hand under the table, and he squeezes hard “She’ll be fine, don’t worry. I just want to be with my family for now. Maybe in the future I’ll transfer” he adds with a smile. 

Sunghoon has never been particularly close to his mother or his step-mother. It was a choice for him. 

Jeongja, his mothers girlfriend, came into his life when he was 5 years old. She took care of him like he was her own. “Blood is not a requirement when it comes to family. I’ll always love you like a son, Sunghoon. Will you remember that?” she told him one day. He always thinks about that time. Sunghoon has always been so loved and he wishes he gave it back sooner, not when he was on the brink of losing her. 

Jay feels a pang of guilt in his chest at his words. Maybe one day he could learn to love his mother again. Not today, not tomorrow but one day. He wants that, more than anything. 

The day comes to a close soon enough, leaving you and Sunghoon to bask in each other's embrace. 

His head is on your stomach, as you play with his hair. It’s grown quite long, especially in the back. 

“Two days before New Year's I was at the event hosted by Heeseung’s father” he starts. You don’t say anything, allowing him to continue “I talked to Heeseung then. That was the last time, actually” he chuckles lightly. There’s a hint of sadness in his tone, but he can't quite tell why. 

“You know he actually likes you?” it doesn't shock you like he expected it to. He doesn't comment on it though, letting you find the right words in reply. 

“I know” you say, and he sits up abruptly, looking at you. 

“You do?” He seems puzzled. It has been so long since he’s seen or even talked to Heeseung. He wouldn't know. 

Maybe there is a part of him that misses the boy. He was his first friend at Saint Matthew’s Academy. He welcomed him like they’d been friends since forever. Heeseung put up with his initial shyness even when it seemed like everyone else couldn't anymore. 

Sunghoon always smiles when he thinks about his first day. Lee Heeseung spotted him in the crowd, and without an introduction, swung his arm around his shoulder, talking to him like an old friend. 

He introduced him to Wonyoung, his first actual girlfriend. Even though he wasn't on the best terms with her right now, even though he was with her out of convenience, the memory of their time shared together makes his heart just a little warmer. 

Heeseung was the one who gave him a life. And he loved him, which made leaving 10 times harder. 

Even so, he doesn't regret the decision. He knew it was pointless to live with the idea of his once best friend that wasn't really accurate anymore. They both deserved better than each other. 

“He’s made it pretty clear” your lips form into a downwards smile.

Sunghoon looks away from you for a brief moment as he speaks up “And it doesn't change anything?” 

“What do you mean?” you tilt your head in question. 

Sunghoon exhales sharply. Even though he knows what answer to expect, there’s still that ounce of fear in him. Fear that stems from being second, being the ‘afterparty’. 

“You still choose this? Even if you know it wasn't necessarily fake after all?” he asks even though he knows he shouldn't. 

You smile, and pull him back into your chest “I should've chosen this from the beginning” he feels his heart grow bigger, a heat rising to his face “It doesn't matter what it was, not really. Didn’t you know I’d come back to you?” he chuckles and shakes his head. 

“I’m happy you did” he murmurs, his eyes shutting. Your hand slips under his shirt, caressing the soft skin on his back “You know, if he ever made you feel worse than us, I hope you know it’s not true. You’re a good girl, and I always knew it. You deserve more, and I’ll make sure you get it, okay?” 

You smile lightly, and nod. 

You look over at the dirty dishes in the sink, messy dinner table, and sigh softly as you think about all the work that’ll have to be conquered soon. 

But you let him fall asleep on your chest, and it feels good. Even if there's things left undone. 

____

 It was Jungwon’s birthday dinner today. 

After the school trip you two have grown much closer. He would visit you during breaks or sometimes join you in the study hall. He’d even given up his seat next to Jay (who was surprisingly really good at the subject) in French class to sit with you. 

Jungwon would talk a lot about his girlfriend, Binna. She went to a public school not far from here and met Jungwon during a student exchange program to Sweden. She’d always tell him what people at her school thought about the well renowned, enclosed community of St. Matthew’s. It wasn’t entirely positive, and since Binna was dating one of the ‘stuck-up dickheads that probably wipes his ass with $100 bills’, they wouldn’t really include her in the conversations anymore. 

But you enjoyed hearing about her. Jungwon would ask for advice regarding gifts, places he should take her and things he could do to make her feel loved. And you’d always give it to him. 

He showed you countless pictures of her,  always struggling with choosing one  “She looks pretty in all of these, I swear!” 

Her  brown hair covered her face slightly but you could still see her beautiful face. Big, doe eyes, plump lips that were rosewood pink. She had a scar under her right eye. You thought it made her look so stunning. Jungwon did too. 

During his birthday dinner, you saw them together for the first time. It was almost like he forgot what he was here for in the first place, his attention on her only. 

You sat next to Sunghoon and Jake. Jay sat next to Jake with Niki on his right. Heeseung sat across from you, Karina next to him on the left, Sunoo on his other side. The other people there you didn’t really recognize. 

The relationship between you and Jungwon wasn’t the only thing that changed. A lot of things did. 

“Let’s go back to my house after this” he leaned in closer to you. He didn’t have to even whisper, the conversations that surrounded you ringing in your ears. The music was loud too. You think Sade is playing, but you're not sure. 

Jake, although currently arguing with Jay about baseball clubs, notices. He caught on pretty early. During a walk after school, he brought it up. “Back in the game, huh? How did you even get him to talk?”. He knew you wouldn’t admit to anything, but it was funny to watch you get flustered at his comments. 

“Won’t you be tired?” you ask, and he laughs softly. Tired after eating a free dinner, and cracking a few fake smiles? This was like a day job for him. Countless dinners with his biological father, whom he truly despised, or CEO’s of other successful companies, or with Wonyoung and her parents (he hated those one’s the most). He’s used to it by now. 

He shakes his head ‘no’ which causes you to smile. His hand lingers next to your thigh. He’s tempted to touch you, but Heeseung’s piercing gaze prevents him. He doesn’t know why. It’ll end soon, surely. 

You look over at Jay who's now in conversation with Niki. It’s a little shocking to see them like this. 

Niki never liked Jay, and Jay didn’t like him either. Even if he was meant to marry his sister one day (which he saw maybe four times in his life, but truly wasn’t opposed to- she was so beautiful), Niki just couldn’t care less about Park Jongseong. They seem to be laughing at something now and it doesn't look forced, not at all. It’s a rare view and you almost take a photo. You could tease him with it later. 

Jake turns to you and Sunghoon, noting how the boy is much more talkative when he’s with you. 

“I’ll be back” you say, and Sunghoon nods, watching you stand up. He wants to say ‘I’ll miss you’, but thinks it’s incredibly corny. 

The restaurant is crowded tonight. You seem to be the only big group of people there. You smile while passing an older couple that’s celebrating the wife’s birthday, a small cake  and a big bouquet in a glass vase on the table. 

Warm water slides down your fingers, drips down your wrist as you watch your reflection in the mirror.

January seeped into February while you became better. That's what you want to believe at least. While the hair dye keeps fading away, you think about how Heeseung suggested the color. When you touch what's left of your lip piercing (only a healed  scar), you remember how he picked it out for you. It’s not inherently bad to change yourself for someone, but you wish you hadn't become everything you never wanted to be. 

The door opens, the creak sounding through the bathroom. You don't look up, instead shaking the wetness off your hands. 

“Still scared of the hand-dryer?” he leans against the wall. His tone is almost mocking, and usually you’d laugh with him. But today, just like yesterday and the day before that too, you don't feel like talking to Lee Heeseung. 

“Heeseung, I’m not in the mood” Your tone is flat and his expression- unchanging. “I already told you everything I had to say” 

“Do I make you feel sick? Do you think about what happened between us and feel sick?” You're taken aback by his sudden question. 

There's a moment of painful silence as he gauges your reaction. You look at him with utter confusion, but his expression doesn't seem to falter- he's calm, almost too calm. 

For the weeks after New York, Heeseung went back to ignoring you. You wouldn't see him much either, as he spent most of his time with Karina or a group of guys from your grade. Sometimes, he’d look at you for a moment longer than intended. His lips would part, as if he wanted to say something, but he never did. 

Heeseung started ignoring you, and for the first time since you met him, it was okay. 

“What?” you choke out, and he doesn't repeat. You heard him the first time, didn't you? “N- No. What are you even talking about?” 

He scoffs, his eyes on the floor. Your back is pressed against the sink as you wait for him to continue. 

“Then why him? We were good together” he doesn't sound sad, or resentful. It's almost like the question comes out automatically, like it's standard procedure. 

You want to laugh. He sounds robotic, his ‘apology’ most likely rehearsed. No matter how much time passes, no matter what happens and what doesn't, Heeseung doesn't quite get it. Not at all. 

“I want someone who doesn't see me as a game” you speak and he doesn't fire back- instead he nods. “And honestly, I really don't give a fuck what changed in the middle. You should've told me then, not after we had sex” he cringes at the reminder. 

Was sorry really not enough? He needs a breakthrough, but nothing seems to work. 

The last time he felt like this was when his first real girlfriend broke up with him to be with his brother. They're still together- a stinging reminder of what Heeseung couldn't be. 

He remembers begging her to stay, standing in front of her, a desperate look on his face “I’ll be better” . She just laughed in his face. He felt like such an idiot. 

And it happens yet again- it's just never enough. He's never enough. 

He sighs, his expression changing “Do I have to kill him to get my fucking life back?” 

You look at him confused “I- I don't understand” he shakes his head. His body peels off the wall, as he comes closer to you. 

“That dickhead has it. He stole my life” his voice is just above a whisper, his eyes darkening. You don’t reply, a look of hesitancy on your features. 

His friends, his almost girlfriend, his social status- Sunghoon took it away. He stole his identity, everything he's ever worked for. Heeseung had nothing left. 

His hand lands on your shoulder, his touch tentative at first “I’ll be better” 

He watches you sigh, a twinge of sadness in your eyes that can't look at him. A flash of hope crosses his face, but Heeseung knows it's pointless- he already lost. A long time ago. 

“It doesn't matter anymore, really” you finally speak “And I don't think I’ll ever be over the person you were before, Heeseung” 

Heeseung looked like he knew this was coming. Probably because he did. 

He could say some cliche shit like “You know I’ll always love you?” or “Can you kiss me for the last time?”, but he doesn't. He nods. Maybe because he knew this far longer than he'd like to admit. 

Heeseung recalls the moment he first saw you like it was yesterday. He was being a douche, wasn't he? It always went the same- he showers you with compliments, makes you think he’s emotionally intelligent, and eventually he’d have some fun with you. He never knew it’d go this far, no. 

Now, he hates himself for being so fucking stupid, so reckless. But again, he wouldn't be able to keep it a secret long. They knew, they all did. And time already showed him that they wouldn't wait with the truth. They just would, they all would. 

He’s glad to be leaving soon. Changing schools was never his plan- but it no longer made sense for him to be here. He’s sure there’s nicer things waiting for him in Kyoto. 

He’s sure there’s a better version of him there.

Heeseung wants to tell you that this stupid birthday dinner for silly, little Yang Jungwon is most likely the last time he’ll see you. He wants to tell you that those rumors about him moving are true, but he bites his tongue. You probably knew anyway, and you probably didn't care. 

He hugs you, and you let him. You let him hold you, and you pretend not to hear his quiet sniffles. He wouldn't want you to see him like this. Deep down he hopes that maybe eternal return is real, and he’ll get to have you in the exact same way again at one time. 

Heeseung moves away from you, his glossy eyes glazing over your figure. He moves for the door handle, opening the door. The world becomes much louder again, as the line of tables spreads out in the distance.

“After you” he smiles weakly, his eyes avoiding you. 

You reciprocate the same weak, apologetic smile. Stepping out of the bathroom you don't look back, heading straight for the table you came from. 

You could've kept avoiding it, ignoring the growing pain in your chest whenever he crossed you. But you owed it to him. 

There's a flash of guilt on your features as you approach everyone. But seeing Sunghoon laughing so effortlessly and purely with Jake and Jay again makes your lips curve into a small, genuine smile again. 

“Are you okay?” his wide smile doesn't falter as Sunghoon turns to look at you. There’s a bit of concern in his tone as speaks, though. You nod. 

“Where’s Karina?” you ask, noticing the two empty seats. 

They think it’s weird- you asking about Karina of all people. But no one bothers to really make a comment about it. 

“She left with Heeseung like 10 minutes ago. Didn't you see them leaving?” Jake questions. 

“No” your gaze falls onto Sunghoon again. He looks so happy, and free. It didn't use to be like this. “Let’s get out of here” you lean down, your face at level with his. 

He nods, moving swiftly as he collects his belongings “Yeah. Let’s go. If you’re not tired” he grins. You roll your eyes playfully, shoving him softly. 

He holds your hand, his skin so delicate and smooth against yours. His grip is tight, as if he’s scared something might take you away from him. 

“Let’s go be tired together, yeah?” he nods with a smile, looking down at you. 

And the bittersweetness of February 9th stains you like the blood of a plump cherry on a summer day. But it was always meant to be this way, you think. 

[cacoetheswriting]

Request!!

Eddie walking in on reader fantasizing abt him<3 and ine thing leads to another they are fucking and then confessing each others love. Smut to fluff basically

If not that’s cool!<3

pairing: roommate!eddie munson x fem!reader [modern day au] word count: 3k

content warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, modern day au, friends/roommates to lovers, smut, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, dirty talk, sexual fantasies, masturbation (f), mutual pining, fingering, allusions to sex

Eddie Munson works shifts.

His schedule is scribbled in black marker and terrible handwriting on the calendar stuck to the fridge of your shared apartment — although, it’s not like you needed to double check when your curly-haired roommate was and wasn’t going to be home, embarrassingly enough, you pretty much had it memorised.

In your defence, it’s not overly hard to remember. 

While your hours are standard, Monday to Friday, nine to five, Eddie works at a nightclub in the city centre — The Black Door. He starts late in the afternoon, so as you come home, he’s rushing out the door with a sandwich between his teeth while he throws on his raggedy denim jacket.

“Have a good night, doll face,” he usually says when you pass each other in the hallway. “Don’t do anything I would do.”

You roll your eyes and usually reply with something you think is witty, if you’re not completely enamored by the way his locks bounce and fall perfectly around his face.

“Try not to burn the place down, Munson. You still owe me half of the rent for this month.”

“Tomorrow,” Eddie says with a grin, “Cross my heart.” He mimics his words and winks, before disappearing down the stairs.

When you close the apartment door behind you with a gentle kick, you have to lean against the frame and take a breath to compose yourself because the feelings you’ve recently developed for your metal-head roommate were too much, too complicated. You needed to try and keep them buried deep.

So, like every other night alone, you do the only thing you can think of to distract yourself and whip out your phone. After some doom scrolling and texting Steve for advice — since he’s the one who gave up his room in the flat, recommending Eddie move in — you open the apps. 

Swipe left, swipe right, left, right, left, left, right. It’s not hard for you to get matches, it’s even easier to get messages which lead to many dates. The odd dinner here, the odd drink there. You like to suggest The Black Door because even though you’re doing this to get over their head bartender, there’s a certain thrill in having him watch you flirt with other guys.

Unfortunately tonight’s date — Tobie with an ie not a y, as specified in his bio — texts to reschedule just as you finish applying some blush pink lipstick. 

Tobie: Hamster died

Tobie: (typing)

Tobie: Next time?

You groan in frustration. Nevertheless, you reply to keep the possibility of a next time open.

You: Sorry to hear about your hamster. Next time, for sure.

Then you type out a quick message to Steve, letting him know he doesn’t need to stalk your location since your date just cancelled. 

Steve: Good. He looked like a douche anyway.

Ignoring Harrington’s comment, you lock the screen then move to the couch where you finish the glass of wine you had poured to drink while getting ready. The alcohol is bitter on your tongue and after you swallow, it makes you feel even more lonesome than moments prior.

Spending your evenings alone wasn’t the worst by any means. You liked to think of yourself as an independent woman and there certainly were other ways you could continue to distract yourself — ways that didn’t involve a man. 

A movie perhaps. Some new Netflix releases to binge watch. Catching up on a favourite podcast. Back to doom scrolling for a minute. Or… You glance at the time on your phone. 7:16pm. Eddie wasn’t due back from his shift anytime soon.

Without giving it a second thought, you lay your head down on the throw cushions and close your eyes. You then proceed to slide a hand down your clothed stomach and you don’t stop, even when you reach the waist of your skirt.

Warmth immediately spreads through you. Even more when you hear a certain sultry voice in your mind, ordering you around. “Come on, doll face.”, or “Show me how much you want me.”.

Well fuck. So much for not thinking about your roommate.

He’s there, behind your eyes. Standing at the edge of the sofa, watching you touch yourself. And he’s doing the same. Fingers wrapped tight around his erect member, rubbing intently while he tells you to keep going and what a dirty, filthy, thing you are.

Cloud nine. Or ten. Who the hell cares. 

You’re lost in your own nasty thoughts, lost in the fantasy, completely oblivious to the sound of metal sliding in the keyhole and the click of the lock. Oblivious to the creak of an opening door and teeter of feet. Oblivious to the fact that there was someone now watching you with their mouth agape.

You’re about to reach that complete high. The mountain top. But then someone clears their throat. No, not just someone. Your roommate, Eddie — and not in your dreams.

Eyes snapping open, your heart drops. You remove your hand from its current position instantly, then slide on the sofa into a seated position, horrified and way too embarrassed to meet his struck gaze.

“Sorry, I-I,” Eddie stumbles and if you had enough courage to look at him, you’d notice he was beet red. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“No, no,” you protest and stand quickly, “I’ll ehh, I’ll go and yeah, sorry you had to see that.”

You continue to avoid his brown-eyes as you rush to your room, locking the door behind you for good measure. Then, since you’ve already lost all self respect and probably also his respect, you slam face first into your bed and scream into your pillow.

What you don’t see is Eddie who grimaces as the shrieks reach his ears. 

He honestly didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything, but it seems if he told you that now, you wouldn’t believe him. He just felt pervy standing there without your knowledge. And would it make it worse if he said he didn’t mind what he saw? That it was actually really fucking hot? Probably, yeah. He should definitely keep his mouth shut.

But Eddie can’t. Not when it comes to you.

Instead, he drops his backpack to the floor and strides toward your bedroom door. One big breath later, he knocks once, twice. No answer.

“Doll face, can you come out and talk to me? Please?”

“Go away, Munson. You’re never seeing my face again.”

He sighs. “Come on, it’s not the worst thing in the world.” Eddie tries to reason. “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t really see all that much. I-I shut my eyes the second I realised what was going on.” It’s a lie, but it’s a white lie. No harm in a white lie.

There’s shuffling inside and the door flies open.

“What are you even doing home so early?” Deflection. Great tactic.

Eddie leans against the frame, stretching his right arm across to pick at painted splinters. “Got into an argument with some weirdo. Bossman sent me home.”

The metal-head must sense your sudden concern because before you can say anything or ask any questions, he says, “And don’t you worry your pretty face about that rent money. I still have a job to go back to ‘cause my actions were in complete self-defence. I was just told to go home and cool off, or whatever.”

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What did you fight about?”

“Nothing important,” Eddie brushes it off and shrugs after dropping his arm back to his side. “What are you doing here by the way? I thought you had a hot date.”

“Dead hamster,” you say without further explanation, then quickly wonder, “How did you know about my date though?”

“Harrington.”

“Of course.”

There’s a minute of silence. Not awkward, despite everything that’s happened. Quite comfortable actually because that’s how things always are between the two of you.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Eddie asks, another attempt at trying to stir the conversation even further away from what transpired mere minutes ago. “In my room, if you’d prefer that.”

Tried and failed since you glance at the couch and tense all over again. 

There is no way you’re going to sit with him in the same exact spot you just tried to get yourself off to fabricated thoughts of him, all while he walked in on you. You’re probably never going to sit there again, ever.

“We might actually need to invest in a new sofa,” you say, full of shame, and glance up at the curly haired boy.

He rolls his eyes. 

“Would it help if I dropped my pants and—”

“Eddie! Gross!” You screech and smack his chest. “No, it would most definitely not help.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Relax, doll face. I was  kidding.” The grin on his face spreads. “At least we know you weren’t thinking about me earlier, judging by that reaction to my very kind offer.”

There must now be a grimace on your face, some sort of physical reaction that you didn’t manage to contain as Eddie’s joke settles in the air around you, because a beat passes and your curly-haired roommate's gaze goes wide. His lips part and something flashes in his brown eyes that you can’t quite deduce, but one thing’s for sure, he knows.

“Oh. Oh.”

Without saying anything else, plausible deniability and all that, you try to shut the bedroom door in his face. Eddie however, has fast reflexes and his foot is now blocking you from doing so. But you keep trying and you lean against the wood, shoving it with your back.

“Now you can really go away, Munson.”

“It’s not—”

“If you utter the words it’s not that big of a deal, I will jump out of my window.”

On the other side of the door, Eddie laughs. “Don’t be dramatic, doll face. No one needs to be jumping out of anything, okay?”

You sigh, looking up at your ceiling as if it held all of the answers.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one having extremely specific dirty thoughts about your roommate.”

Silence. 

Oddly, now it felt slightly uncomfortable. You sense it immediately. The shift in the air. It’s a little unnerving. Okay. A lot unnerving. Which is why, again without really thinking about what you were doing, you stand straight and open the bedroom door to reveal your roommate’s back. He’s staring at the empty wall, hands on his hips.

“You know,” Eddie starts in a quiet tone and you begin to think the worst, (although you’re about to find out there is really no need). “Before you were my roommate, you were Harrington’s smart, funny, beautiful, hot, city girl roommate.”

“I-I don’t think I’m following.”

Eddie sighs. He spins back to look at you, hands still on his hips.

“Jesus. Okay. Uhm… You’re not the only one with, what is it you said, extremely specific dirty thoughts.” 

You raise your brows in surprise. This is not the turn of events you were expecting.

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

And then, for reasons not completely clear in that moment, you laugh. Loud and clear. Velvety. It’s music to Eddie’s ears, so he smiles, watching you. You. Still that smart, funny, beautiful, hot, city girl he had a schoolboy crush on. Even more beautiful when you laughed. And all those nights he’d invite himself over, back when you still shared the flat with Steve, and he’d talk nonstop about this girl he liked but didn’t know how to ask out (you), well, all those nights finally felt worth something because now he knew you liked him too.

Eddie’s shoulders relax and he drops his arms from his hips, sucking in his bottom lip between his teeth. 

You notice immediately, eyes glued to where his points are digging into the flesh of his mouth, and the laugh freezes in your throat. The realisation of what Eddie just admitted dawns on you fully. He’s gotten off on fantasies of you long before you ever saw him that way. You don't, however, get to ask him what any of it means, or where you two go from here, because Eddie makes the decision for you.

He reaches for you. One hand on your jaw, the other gripping your waist. His eyes race over your face, as if he’s taking every little detail in since you’ve never stood this close together. You’re admiring his features too. Memorising each crinkle and line. Each mark and freckle. He’s attractive, for sure, but this close and personal, Eddie Munson is the most alluring guy you’ve ever seen.

“I think I’d like to kiss you now,” he whispers, brushing a thumb over your lips. “Unless you’re still thinking of jumping out the window.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and between your legs. Your gazes latch onto one another and you tip up your chin, inviting him to stay true to his words.

Eddie doesn’t waste a second. He takes your mouth, causing your knees to buckle beneath you, but the hand he’s got on your waist holds you up in place as his lips interlock with yours. The sweetness of the kiss surprises you. It’s pleasant and you find yourself hoping he’ll kiss you this way again, and again. And when the tips of his fingers trail against your cheek, when they travel to the back of your head, settling in place and pushing you in closer, you part your lips and moan softly into his mouth.

He takes this opportunity to slip his tongue in and intertwines it with yours. The hand holding your waist falls slowly, lingering against your body like a shadow as he drops it lower and lower. When he reaches the hem of your denim skirt, he freezes there momentarily.

“I don’t want to overstep, doll face.” Eddie murmurs against your plush lips.

“Please…” You all but whine in response.

“Please what?”

His hazel eyes go dark. Hungry. It sends a shiver down your spine, knowing that he wants you just as much as you want him, if not more.

“Overstep, please.” You slide your nose alongside his, nudging him slightly as you say, “Eddie, t-touch me. I’d like you to touch me.”

He doesn’t hesitate anymore. Swiftly, he pops the button and slides the zipper, letting the garment fall to the ground so that you’re standing in the hallway of your shared apartment with your skirt around your ankles, exposing the black lace of your underwear to your roommate.

Eddie kisses you again. It’s rougher this time, more needy. And while his lips work against yours in perfect harmony, his fingers slide in between your thighs. 

Slowly, Eddie traces your wet heat, teasing with just one finger. Your body is jolting with anticipation. Your skin is soft and warm, writhing under his delicate touch. He can feel tension building as your legs start to tremble and he smirks into your mouth, clearly pleased with himself because he’s barely even touched you. 

Gently, he presses the pad of his index to your entrance, carefully slipping inside as you whimper. He continues pushing in slowly, knuckle by knuckle and you melt around his intrusion. Your arms now pressing your bodies together with all the strength you can muster.

Lewd, wet sounds drift up from between your legs as Eddie begins pumping his fingers in and out of you. Rough. Hungry. He breaks the kiss, crazed eyes looking back to admire your face as you slowly start to come undone. Then you gasp: he curls a finger inside your pussy to mash his palm into your clit, massaging the spot relentlessly.

A moan grows in your throat and your lips part, desperate to let it out. Eddie has another idea though. His free hand clamps over your mouth to muffle the sound. It causes your eyes to widen in shock, but surprisingly to both of you, you lean into it and after a few moments of this treatment, your walls close around his fingers.

You arch your back and Eddie struggles briefly to keep his hand over your mouth. He thinks for a second that maybe he’s being too forceful, forehead to forehead, pushing into you further. Somehow his force only makes you react harder and in a matter of seconds, you deflate, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you cum all over his digits.

Eddie drops his hand from your mouth, grinning. He removes his other hand from between your thighs and you miss him desperately already, though you don’t immediately say because you don’t want to come off as such. He licks his fingers clean then leans down to peck you on the lips as your orgasm haze clears. You can taste yourself on him and it drives you crazy all over again, but when you try to deepen the kiss, your metal-head roommate places his hands on your shoulders and gently pushes you back.

“Let me take you to dinner,” he says simply. 

“Right now?” You pout and manoeuvre your hand in between your bodies to reach for his hard member through his work slacks. “‘Cause I wanna repay the favour.”

Eddie grins then places his hand over yours, intertwining your fingers together. He pulls it out and brings it to his cheek, brushing it softly against his light stubble.

“I am loving the enthusiasm, doll face.” Eddie begins, “But I’d like to try and do this thing right, which means dinner before I further corrupt you, okay?”

“Maybe I’m the one corrupting you.”

“Maybe,” he says with a sly smile, “Either way, the faster we get out of here to grab some food, the faster we can come back and maybe even put that couch to good use.”

You laugh at that.

“So will you stop being stubborn and let me take you to dinner?”

When you nod your head, Eddie’s smile grows even wider. He drops your hand, but only momentarily, to lift your skirt and button it for you. He smooths the material, then once again, he reaches for your hand to lead you out of the shared apartment.

Eddie Munson works shifts.

Only, from now on, whenever he comes home late at night, instead of going to sleep in his room, he stumbles into yours, more than invited.

thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

[florencebirdsong]

Bent Over

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: joining in on Agatha and Rio's special brand of foreplay is just like flipping a coin

Tags:  breeding kink, dubcon, strap referred to as cock, biting, light scratching, manhandling, slight boot humping, light degradation,  implied pain kink, oral, overstimulation, Sir Rio, Mistress Agatha, switch Rio, mommy Agatha, toy Reader, pet names - good girl, dirty girl, pet

She/her pronouns used to refer to R (sorry it’s not the usual they/them I was leaning diff when writing)

masterlist | ao3

Authors note: fr wish the world would stop kicking me in my nonexistent balls but at least this one shot is finally here! Ignore the placeholder name that stuck ahshdjdjd I lowkey like it now. Also, this is the witches road Rio, not soft baby or crashing out Rio.

Note: Agatha much prefers having the most power at any moment than winning. Rio’s referring to one specific event to get under Agatha’s skin 💞

You trail in curiously after Rio. She stalked to Agatha’s office with the clear intention to bother her. Something that will either end really well or really badly for you.

Rio has Agatha’s attention instantly but she decides to play it oblivious. Like the tension in the room isn’t rising by the second. Rio prowls around the walls of the room, pretending to look at the artefacts scattered about the shelves. You linger by the door, just in case this turns into a genuine fight and not the foreplay you’re expecting.

Rio knocks an intricate…statue thing off the shelf. You have no idea what is it but it shatters when it hits the ground. You wish you knew. Its importance would tell you which end on the fight-foreplay spectrum they’re currently dancing in.

“Is there something you needed?” Agatha asks, sounding very unimpressed.

“You couldn’t tell?”

“No. I assumed Death, a cosmic entity, would be capable of using her words when she wants something.”

“I much prefer using my tongue.”

“That is what you use to make words, dear,” she says before she concedes, “In this form, anyway.”

Rio flashes her skull face and you swallow. It’s been a while since you’ve played in that form and the tease has you clenching your thighs together.

“Is there a reason why you’ve come to bother me?” Agatha asks.

“I’m not allowed to spend time with my dearest love?” Rio finally prowls towards Agatha’s desk.

“Don’t be rude,” Agatha tsks and flicks her fingers at you.

Rio turns slowly to look at you. You stay very still. She crooks a finger and you cautiously approach her. If she didn’t want you in the room you wouldn’t be.

She gently cups your face in her hands and it’s more nerve wracking than comforting. She studies your expression as she scans your face.

“Did I hurt your feelings?”

It’s not said with the mocking sympathy that would come from Agatha in this situation. Your eyes flicker towards her but Rio is too close for you to see past her.

“No,” you say simply.

She gives you another considering look. You wonder how much your emotions differ from Agatha and if Rio finds it hard to understand your own. You reach up to cradle her wrist but you barely move before you find yourself on Agatha’s desk. It happens so fast you don’t have time to catch yourself.  Rio’s claws land between your shoulder blades and slams you down. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should, although the shock of the impact still flows through you.

“Play nice,” Agatha admonishes like she has a leg to stand on when it comes to that. 

“Did I hurt you?” Rio asks curiously.

You’re still too stunned to respond.

“Probably,” Agatha answers for you. “I’m sure there’s some lovely bruises forming.”

Rio’s hands lightly run down your sides and you know she’s picturing the marks she’s creating. Purple flares and she doesn’t have to imagine. The polished wood of Agatha’s desk is cool against your skin and start in surprise.

You look up at Agatha to see her dark eyes already on you. It’s too early for you to be pleading but you know your face is already giving you away.

“Rio, why don’t we try what we talked about earlier,” Agatha says, lounging back in her chair.

Rio’s nails dig into your skin. You don’t know what she’s talking about but you know exactly what expression Rio has on her face. A wolf standing at attention, about to snap its teeth.

“Since you want to so badly,” Agatha says in a way you know in digs at Rio.

A moment you see often in the middle of their games.

“Are you sure, Agatha?” Rio asks.

The rest of your clothes disappear.

“Ca- “ your mouth clicks shut without your permission.

It’ll be more of a toy night than a participant night it seems. 

Something hard nudges your entrance and you shiver. It’s all the warning you get before Rio sheathes herself inside of you in one go. You gasp and relish the way Agatha’s eyes snap down to you. She licks her lips and your eyelids droop as Rio does it again. 

“We both know how much you like to be first,” Rio continues to goad as she slowly pulls out before thrusting all the way back in.

You don’t know what they’re talking about, you rarely do in these moments, and Rio scratching her nails down your back distracts you from that vague curiosity. The fresh sting has you arching. It doesn’t draw Agatha’s eye this time. She’s too deep into her game with Rio to give in. Knowing this doesn’t stop a little part of you pouting.

You squirm on Rio’s cock instead of listening to their next set of jibes. They only make sense to you when one of them knows it will get to the other. As hot as their foreplay is, it can take so long. Too focused on your throbbing cunt, you don’t think about the consequences as you whine and kick out. 

Their attention instantly snaps to you and you freeze. The feeling of being a rabbit caught in a wolf den creeps up on you. Agatha’s face turns into a fake pout that has you shivering. 

“Is someone feeling left out?” she asks and you hurriedly shake your head but it’s too late. 

Rio’s threads her fingers through your hair, grips firmly and forces your head down. You whimper. It’s impossible to survive the two of them.

“We don’t want that,” Rio says with a grin you can hear.

Agatha is about to give her exactly what she wants. No consequences. All because you couldn’t wait a little longer. You can’t even try to apologise. Agatha will only act oblivious.

“I just want to know what you’re talking about,” you try.

Sometimes playing their game works in your favour, even if you always lose. This time, it only seems to amuse Agatha more.

“Poor thing doesn’t even know what they risk every time you fuck her,” Agatha says to Rio. 

She drinks in your confused expression.

“It’s not surprising,” Rio says as she plays with the fresh scratches down your back. “Her confused little face is what drew you to her in the first place.”

Agatha’s head tilts slightly as she gives you a considering look.

“Rio is a cosmic entity, dear,” she  reminds you like you aren’t well aware of that whenever Rio’s does…anything, but especially when she’s inside of you. “And we are witches. We aren’t restricted by the usual limitations when it comes to death. Or life,” she quirks her brow.

You suddenly become very aware of how vulnerable you are.

“You mean she can…?”

Agatha’s smirk answers the question for you. 

Hot breath skates along the back of your neck before Rio growls lowly. Instinct has you freezing again. She noses at the delicate skin of your neck. You aren’t naive enough to think it’s a comforting motion.

“Yes,” Agatha says simply.

“I -” is all you get out before Rio’s sharp teeth sink into your shoulder. The ache is a familiar pain, one you know will soon turn to pleasure, yet you still instinctively cry out, bucking. 

Rio has too tight of a hold. She’s going to- is all you can think before her cock is sinking back inside of you. She doesn’t do the teasing pace of before and her cock stretches you open with every thrust.

“Please,” you gasp, “I don’t want- “

“Yes, you do,” Agatha says with all the confidence in the world. “It’s easy to see into your head, hon. You want to be owned. Completely. Something we’re well equipped to do.”

All you can manage is a pathetic whine. She’s never said it so plainly before. Rio is groaning against your back in a way that tells you she’s close. It only makes you clench tighter. Her claws dig into your skin as she holds you still, controlling every movement as she fills you over and over again. You can’t look away from Agatha. The only thing that gives away how much this is effecting her is her slightly heavier breathing. She has that self-satisfied smirk that drives you crazy. 

“Take it like a good pet,” Agatha says and Rio stills inside of you.

You swear you feel something warm flood you as she groans above you. Her teeth find a new spot to dig into. Heat floods through you and it’s all you can do to hold onto the desk as you come. Your eyes shut as you arch but you can still feel Agatha’s gaze searing into you. Your orgasm ends in a whimper. Rio doesn’t release her teeth until you go limp. With a satisfied growl she lets go of you.

“Feel better?” Agatha asks, now lounging back casually as she watches Rio.

“Not yet,” Rio says as her hands travel down to grope your ass. She’s still inside of you.

“Don’t be greedy,”Agatha says.

“I’m not. There’s no saying whether it’s taken yet.”

“Death itself can’t guarantee it on the first go?” Agatha’s voice is almost mocking.

“Not when she wants another round,” Rio says in a voice that tells you she’s wearing a sharp grin. 

You grind back against her, wanting nothing more than to feel like that again. Nothing more except with the taste of Agatha in your mouth too. Agatha clicks her tongue.

“If you can’t get it right the first time then it’s my turn,” she says.

“Oh? Didn’t you say this is something only Death can do?”

“I am a witch, dear,” Agatha says.

As hot as you find this, you wish they’d stop in favour of getting back to the fucking you part. 

“You’ll have to take her,” Rio says.

Agatha raises an eyebrow.

“Give her to me and I’ll suck you off,” Agatha says.

You can feel the way Rio twitches. Agatha is offering something that is usually hard won, yet Rio sees saying yes as a kind of losing.

“Sir -”

Agatha grips your shoulder and digs her thumb into one of your fresh bite marks before you can continue. Your words turn into a strangled whimper. You don’t risk begging to her instead. 

The pressure lessens when you stay quiet but Agatha doesn’t pull away. That combined with the sting of Rio’s claws has you unconsciously grinding back on Rio. It’s probably lessening your chance of Agatha fucking you full, but you’re full now and that’s all you can concentrate on.

Rio grinds her hips forward and Agatha’s hand snaps out to grip her chin. Rio stills and you can’t help the whine that escapes you. They both ignore you.

“Fuck her again and I won’t touch you for a week,” Agatha warns in a low voice.

You swear you hear Rio swallow. Her claws retreating tell you she’s given in. A second later the world tilts and you find yourself on your knees in front of Agatha. You stare up at her with wide eyes. Her pupils are blown and her hair is that slightly messy it always gets when she’s worked up. The wonders of magic. You want to run your hands through it.

You’re distracted from the thought by something dripping down your thigh and you pray Agatha can’t see it from this angle. Her boot lifting to nudge your thigh tells you otherwise.

“Dirty girl,” she murmurs before tilting her boot higher.

You twitch when it touches your sensitive core but don’t dare move otherwise. You want her to touch you, or to touch her. If she’s in an ultimatum kind of mood than complete obedience is the only way to get what you want. Her smile stretches wider and she presses harder. Pleasure sings up your spine. You’re trembling but you manage to resist the urge to grind down. Remembering her reaction when you tried to use words earlier, you beg with your eyes instead.

“Good girl,” she says and you shiver. She sits back down and spreads her legs. “Eat me out and I’ll think about rewarding you.”

You’re crawling forward before her pants are off. You run your hands up her thighs a second before they disappear. She allows the contact and you follow the trail with you nose, taking a deep breath when you hit her soaked folds. Surprisingly, she doesn’t move a hand to your hair like usual. You take the opportunity to suck a dark mark into her thigh, hoping Rio’s reaction to it will lean more towards fucking you than the punishing she is prone to. Not wanting to risk either of them pulling you away from your prize, you find Agatha’s clit with your tongue the second you’re done. You lick firm circles around it and she groans.

“I thought I was the one getting head,” Rio says, closer now.

“Don’t pout, sweetheart, it doesn’t suit you,” Agatha says.

“That isn’t what you said the last time I was on my knees,” Rio says.

Your pace stutters and Agatha laughs lowly. She threads her hand through your hair when you’re too overwhelmed by the image to remember to continue. You don’t need more than a slight push forward before you swiping your tongue over her clit again. 

“Why don’t you get on your knees now? I might change my mind again,” Agatha says.

You barely resist the urge to turn around. Agatha and Rio have the most fun in a power struggle so you’ve seen them in all kinds of roles and positions. You’ve even seen them kneel for each other. But it have Rio kneel beside you is something you’ve never experienced. You aren’t apart of the power struggle, although you’re usually used within it. You’re always firmly below at least one of them. Nether have subbed beside you. You clench your thighs together and try to distract yourself by moving lower. Dipping your tongue teasingly into Agatha, you wait for her tight grip to guide you further. She instantly pushes you closer and you eagerly comply.

It’s enough to distract you that you don’t notice the warmth of another body until it’s brushing against you. You freeze but Agatha’s nails dig in warningly. You move your focus back to her clit to try and disguise your distraction. For the very first time you don’t want to spend the next six hours eating Agatha out and you debate using your fingers without explicit permission.

You can’t see Rio but you can feel her slowly lean against you, which means she’s also leaning against Agatha’s leg. It takes you a moment to realise she’s resting her head against Agatha’s thigh. You imagine the look of Rio’s face as she looks up at Agatha, one you’ve only seen once before. Soft, open, submissive. Agatha’s other hand moves to gently stroke her hair. You fight every reaction you have, terrified of breaking the moment and losing this experience before it truly begins. 

Agatha makes a deeply satisfied noise. You immediately move down and curl your tongue inside of her. She squeezes around your tongue as she comes, moaning in unison with you. You don’t stop until Agatha tugs you away. She lets go before you can rest against her and you only get a moment of confusion before a new hand takes her place. Rio pulls you back further before turning your face towards her.

Instead of kissing you like you’re eagerly expecting, she licks over your lips. Agatha has soaked your face and Rio diligently cleans you up. Her breath is hot. The feeling of her tongue on you, of her kneeling against you, has you shaking. You’re too overwhelmed to do anything more than kneel there.

Rio doesn’t grace you with a kiss when she pulls away. You’re too dazed to miss it. It takes you a long moment to open your eyes again. 

Rio’s hand slides down to the back of your neck, thumb gently stroking the skin there, but she doesn’t take her eyes away from Agatha. 

“I’ll reward you later. I have a pet to breed,” Agatha says to her.

Rio doesn’t react, not even a twitch. Hands pull you up into Agatha’s lap. You’re straddling her for barely a moment before something hard nudges you. Looking down you’re shocked to see a green strap-on instead of a purple one. You want to see Rio’s reaction but Agatha’s grip is iron.

You hold your breath as Agatha guides her cock to your entrance. She doesn’t need to push you onto it, you sink down eagerly. You’re surprised again as she allows you to set your own pace. Her hands on your hips steadying you instead of controlling. Moving your eyes from the flashes of green to her deep blue ones, you’re unsurprised to find them studying you. 

“Mommy’s going to come in you,” she says and a shiver runs down your back.

Her fingers dig into your skin and you wish she was moving you like she usually does. Your steady pace turns shaky and uneven. Too desperate to come to be able to get yourself there.

“Please,” whine you. Agatha’s eyes drop to your lips and you say it again, “Please, mistress.”

Agatha growls and pulls you up. Your heart drops, thinking she’s pulling you off, until she slams you back down again. You moan and grasp desperately at her shoulders. Her eyes don’t leave yours as she makes you ride her. 

You’re trembling and desperate. The heat that had been slowly building again flares through you. You hold on as long as you can, not wanting it to end. Victory shines in Agatha’s eyes when you finally snap and that warmth floods you again.

Agatha runs a soothing hand up and down your back as you come down, curled into her shoulder. It takes until you have most of the feeling back in your body to realise Rio has been quiet for too long. You lean back from Agatha, trying not to get distracted with her still inside of you. Her amused smirk doesn’t reassure you. Claws curl around your hips and you freeze mid-turn. Rio moulds herself against your back. She slides her cheek against your own. A slight pressure has you staring back at Agatha, Rio’s sharp grin against your cheek. Those claws lift you half-way up Agatha’s cock.

“Wait,” you gasp and uselessly pull at them as they start to push you back down.

“No,” Rio growls and you stop, listening to your survival instincts. “If you’re so desperate to come to Agatha wearing one of my straps, then you’re going to do it again.”

You whimper. Your cunt is sensitive after two hard orgasms and you know you won’t survive another. Not functioning. You pretend the idea doesn’t make you drip. 

Agatha doesn’t do anything to save you. She leans back in her chair and settles her hands low on your thighs, prepared to enjoy the show. 

Rio bounces you on her strap without mercy and you’re struggling not to come within moments. Their scents surround you, Agatha’s eyes devour you and Rio’s claws make themselves known every time she moves you. 

Rio murmurs something under her breath and Agatha jerks suddenly. You have no control to stop and see what’s wrong. Her eyes slam shut, grip turns tight and her mouth drops open into an expression you’re familiar with.

Rio’s made it so Agatha can feel what’s happening to the strap-on. The realisation pushes you even higher. You’re too far gone to truly help with Rio’s movements but you give yourself completely to them as you watch Agatha’s face. Her head slowly tilts back. The desperate urge to kiss her surges and you lean in.

Rio grips the back of your hair and holds you still. You whimper.

“Don’t ruin my fun.”

Agatha’s eyes languidly open. “I don’t remember telling you to stop,” she says.

“Someone was trying to take more than she’s been given,” Rio purrs.

You shake your head but it’s useless.

“Eating your mistress out and being used as a fleshlight isn’t enough?” You don’t get a chance to respond. Purple swirls around your wrists and forces them behind your back. Her sharp nails dig in when she grips your chin. “Take it like a good girl before I leave you tied up for a week.” You try to nod but her grip is too tight. “Say yes mistress.”

“Yes, mistress.”

Agatha pushes your chin away and Rio starts fucking you on her strap again. It’s all too much and you’re falling apart within minutes, clinging desperately to her as pleasure consumes you.

Rio forces your hips up again and you can’t even make a noise of protest. Your bones are jelly. Your everything is jelly.

Agatha clicks her tongue. “Stop before you break her.”

Rio rolls her eyes and lets you go. You slump into Agatha’s hold. “But she’s so fun when she’s been fucked stupid.”

“I have plans for tomorrow,” Agatha says. There’s no room left in you for curiosity. “And I’d rather you focus on your own reward.”

Rio’s eyes snap to Agatha’s. Agatha lifts you and gets up before placing you back on her chair. You reach for her, confused in your slowness. She grasps your chin.

“Watch,” she commands.

You nod once the word makes it through your slow thoughts. The command giving a bit more life to them. They speed up more as you watch Agatha slowly kneel down in front of Rio. Swallowing roughly, you grip the chair tight. Wondering if you’re dreaming.This is a sight you rarely see. Rio has won dominance before and even allowed you to watch on rare occasions but this feels different.

Agatha wraps her hand around the base of Rio’s cock and begins to slowly stroke it. Rio looks almost frozen, riveted by the sight. Agatha slowly licking her from base to tip doesn’t help.

She wraps her lips around Rio’s head. They don’t break eye contact.

Rio groans when Agatha takes her deeper. Agatha hollows her cheeks and Rio’s hips jerk. Her hand lands in Agatha’s hair but doesn’t push.

She doesn’t last as long as you’re expecting. She was more worked up than she was letting on and the sight of her coming with a loud groan has you grinding against the chair despite your sensitive cunt.

“Good boy,” Agatha husks when she pulls away and Rio’s whole body shudders. Agatha gets up and sits on her desk. “Now fuck me like you mean it and maybe I’ll give you another go with our pet over there.”

[221beeeeeee]

If Moffat would have put me in the writers’ room…

I’m making John an ER doctor. Probably after Reichenbach.

You’re telling me the combat-trained army doctor isn’t throwing himself into trauma and emergency medicine after losing Sherlock? You’re telling me this man, who treated blast injuries in the field, performed chest tubes in a tent, and sutured wounds under fire, isn’t going to thrive in a place where patients are crashing every hour?

John is devastated. His best friend is gone. His partner. Does he even know what Sherlock was to him?

He copes the only way he knows how. Intubations. Central lines. Running traumas back to back.

He zones out and loses himself in the chaos of the ER. No thinking. No grief. Just the next patient. GSW to the abdomen. RTA rolling in. Code blue in the ICU.

Maybe he takes an attending position at St. Bart’s. Maybe he likes the familiarity of the halls. Maybe he passes the spot where Sherlock fell to his death every day and tells himself it doesn’t matter. Maybe if he saves enough people, he’ll feel something again.

At first, he struggles. The equipment is too much. Too many resources. In the war, he had pressure dressings, ketamine, and luck. Now he has thoracotomies, ECMO, a whole trauma team. It feels excessive. It feels wrong. But he adapts.

Soon, he is the one barking orders. 16-gauge IVs in both arms. 1:1:1 transfusion. Push Epi. Get me a thoracotomy tray. His hands don’t shake. His leg doesn’t hurt. He works fast. He doesn’t go home. He picks up extra shifts. He’s always there.

Sherlock was the genius in the morgue. John is the one keeping people out of it.

Anyways I’m still mourning the bbc Sherlock we could have had.

[hrrtshape]

EMMA±??±?±?±?±??!?!?!?!OMGORMGOGMG????? STORYTIME HELLOW WHERE DID U EVEN SHIFT TO

i spent 15 days in the upper east side and now i have an existential crisis about my real life (but in a hawt way)

unlike my previous shifts, where i’d spend 10 minutes, maybe 20, dipping my toes into a life so much better than this one, i spent fifteen whole days in my better cr. fifteen days ago, i woke up in my king-sized bed with 1000-thread-count sheets and realised i had, in fact, won in life.

i had done it. no brief glimpse, no fleeting moment before snapping back to my real-world peasantry. fifteen days. enough time for a full socialite saga and to meet my beau!?!?!??! enough time to wake up in pyjamas which might as well been the most comfortable thing i've ever worn, hear the distant clatter of someone else in the other rooms, and stretch luxuriously as if i were in a renaissance painting. i could smell money in the air FOLKS!?!?!!!! not new money, but old money, the kind that sits heavy in the walls (!??!?!?), the kind that makes people say your last name like it means something. and this was my life. MY LIFE. at last. took it long enough.

the first morning, and you have to understand my main character syndrome for this, i stepped out onto the balcony, the manhattan skyline.....mhmhmhmhmhm....mhm. mhm. mhmm. stretching before me like a personal prophecy, and i felt it in my bones!!!!!!: this was home. MY HOME. okay. so. then i went around, you know, exploring my little room (not little...) and girl the moment i stepped in front of a mirror.......WHO'S THIS BABE???? yea. yea. i even had a cat !!!!

then i went to school. sorry, went, i mean DRIVE. now, here’s the dealio. i had scripted myself into this effortlessly put-together, socially untouchable, well-adjusted manhattan teen heiress life. but there were gaps in my logic. big ones. like, for example: i couldn't drive. i didn't know how to drive !!!

and yet, there i was in the morning in my super super super sSUPPPERRR cutesie school uniform, keys in hand, standing in front of a car (a Porsche, people, a porsche!!!) that looked like it cost more than my entire life back in my cr. so, i acted like i totally knew what i was doing. slid into the driver’s seat with the confidence of someone who had done this a thousand times before, adjusted the mirrors like i had a clue, and started the car.

and then? i picked up lily-rose depp.

(she's not an actress in this dr, by the way. just my best friend. which is infinitely cooler.)

she didn't even question everything. just said i looked really hawt today. i was blessed. seriously. like i'm typing this and also screaming i want to go back.

somehow. miraculously. i got us to school in one piece. st. lazarus international college. it looked like a cathedraland felt like a warzone. we pulled up alongside a line of obnoxiously expensive cars (not a single honda in sight!?!?!?!?), and i barely had time to breathe before stepping out onto the pavement, uniform pristine, COACH. MOTHAUFCKING COACH TOTE bag slung over my shoulder like i was about to solve world hunger instead of sit through calculus (that shi fucking sucked btw !!!! but my school's classrooms were drop dead gorgeous).

anyways. i now have to brush upon something that made me almost let out a humongous squeal when i saw him. CORIOLANUS. yes. yes. yes. yes. yes,ewfygweuvbuihweiusvbgiweu`rs. i saw him. yep. yep. i had to slap myself. metaphorically.

SO. i had scripted that on my first day, i would give coriolanus snow a nosebleed.

and !?!??!?!?!!?! IT SUCCEEDED. when i first saw him, he was leaning against a row of lockers like he owned the place and i swear to god i almost moaned. crisp white shirt, tie loose, cheekbones sharp enough to wound, eyes narrowed. pray.

HO. HE WINKED AT ME. and then i walked past him with my bfffffff lily-rose and. and. and. nosebleed. bro. bro. bro. BROSKI. the way he blinked..........the way his breath hitched just a little as the first drop of blood slid over his cupid’s bow. the WAY he tilted his head back, tongue darting out briefly over his lip. oh my god. i was actively fighting to not go and jump on him and like do vile disgusting things.

i had won the war, but at what cost?

because he was so hot.

SO FUCKING HAWT.

uh. so. yeah. that was just the first two hours of my better cr, and it was already putting my entire existence to shame. like, objectively, scientifically, undeniably better than anything i have ever done in my cr.

ssssoooooo. IF ANYONE WANTS TO HEAR MORE…do let me know. because, hands clasped, eyes glistening, heart on the verge of combustion, i am being so serious. this was the peak of my human experience. i have tasted divinity PEOPLE. i have lived too well. i fear i must go back, or else i will experience genuine withdrawals from the lack of my paramour’s face in my daily visuals.

so yeah. if you’re curious… hit me up. (evil, knowing laughter echoing into the abyss)

OH AND. whenever i'd go to sleep there i'd like cry out of fear that i'd wake up in my cr but whenever i'd wake up just...there...i'd literally pray to god. BECCAUSE EIJISEJFEWUSHFIHEJI. i'm there.

anyway, i am so not okay about this. i keep coming back to edit, rewrite, relive. but okay. listen. if you ever had even a sliver of doubt about shifting, i am kneeling right now, hands clasped, eyes wide with conviction, telling you!!!!!!!

SHIFTING IS SO FUCKING REAL.

it’s real in a way that defies logic, in a way that makes the air feel electric, in a way that rewires your entire understanding of existence. so real. so unimaginably real.

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Casually calling him daddy; Caleb

Word count; 922

Warnings; "daddy" ofc, fluff

Notes; Hope yall enjoy these updated drabbles!! <3

☆☆☆☆☆

You and Caleb weren't…well, technically, you weren't dating, but you weren't exactly sure what to call it. Your relationship is the same it's always been.

The usual cuddling, hand-holding, pretending to date to thwart love confessions…

And you were trying to figure out how exactly to push the envelope just a step further.

As you were scrolling through decade old apps, you found a TikTok compilation.

Now, you weren't exactly sure what TikTok was since it was, at least, 20-years old, but you decided to watch the video anyways since you were doom scrolling in bed at Caleb's home.

As you were watching, one trend caught your eye.

It was the aptly named “calling your boyfriend daddy” trend and while you didn't have a boyfriend…you did have Caleb.

You weren't exactly sure what kinks Caleb had, but whether his reaction was sexual, disgust, or whatever it may be, you wanted to see. So, with that thought in mind, you get up and call your OTTO into the room.

“Hello, master, what do you need help with today? Do you need breakfast? Master Caleb left two hours, thirty-five minutes, and 40 seconds ago to go to work. He won't be home until–”

“Thank you so much for that, OTTO, but I needed something else.” You quickly cut the circular robot off, feeling a bit bad for doing so, but you doubt its feelings would be hurt. “Whenever Caleb gets home and we start cooking, can you switch to your recording mode?”

“I can do that. Any video saved will go straight to Master Caleb's phone.” The bot says as it flies around your head and you shrug, “That's fine with me. Let me know when he gets home!”

Now, you just need to figure out how you'll seamlessly bring the word up in conversation with Caleb…

“He's home! He's home!” OTTO shouts, almost excitedly, as it speeds around the house similarly to an overexcited dog. Though, its warning was a tad too late as Caleb steps in the door while the bot is excitedly yelling.

“You missed me so much, you got OTTO to tell ya when I get home?” He laughs as he takes his Colonel hat off, setting it on the coffee table.

“Maybe…” you grab his hat, putting it on as you shove him toward his room. “Go get changed, I'm hungry.”

“Alright, alright. Geez, no need to be in such a hurry, pipsqueak.” He holds his hands up, allowing you to push him.

After he's changed, he joins you in the kitchen with OTTO flying steadily around the room.

“Did you tell OTTO to do something? It's acting realllly strange.” Caleb's eyes narrow as he shuts the rice cooker. “Nope, maybe it's broken.” You shrug, continuing to peel an apple.

You decided to make an apple smoothie for both you and Caleb, almost completely forgetting about your earlier plan. “Oh right…” you murmur under your breath.

How were you going to bring it up…

“What're you thinking about, pipsqueak?” Caleb rests an arm on your shoulder as he pokes the skin between your eyebrows. “What's got you furrowing your brows?”

“Well da– I mean, hmm…” you're honestly feeling a bit frustrated, but also embarrassed that you can't find a way to naturally insert this word into the conversation.

How come he can do it so easily when calling you pipsqueak?

Caleb raises a brow, leaning more into your view. “What did you say?”

“Ah, it's nothing.” You shove at his chest with a small laugh. “Give me some space, Caleb. You know I'm holding a knife, right?”

But as soon as you say this, you feel an odd pressure on your wrist. Your hand lets go of the knife and it clatters on the marble countertop.

“Caleb– ?”

He turns your body to face him, your back against the counter as he tilts his head to the side.

“Go on.”

“I wasn't going to say anything, seriously!” You can't help but laugh, turning your head to look away from him.

He didn't know exactly what you were going to say from just a few letters…right?

He grabs your chin, turning your head to face him. “Don't look away from me.” He jerks his chin up as he looks down at you. “Go ahead, say what you were going to say. I'm waiting.”

Embarrassment along with…something else was boiling in the pit of your stomach and you let out a low, panicked whine, lightly stomping your foot.

Suddenly, you felt like you couldn't say anything. So tongued that you just kept your mouth shut.

A sharp laugh escapes Caleb and his grip tightens around your chin. “Alright, brat. You really don't want to say it?” He hums, eyes flitting from yours to your lips. “Then I guess that means…no braised chicken tonight?”

“Huh–” you owlishly blink at him, before finally coming back to life. “That's not fair–!”

“Then…Say. It.” Caleb clicks his tongue, slowly leaning forward so his forehead rests against yours.

“I…ugh.” You sigh, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “I'm sorry…daddy.”

“Good girl.” He hums with a content smile, dipping his head down to lightly peck your lips before suddenly, he's gone. “Now get back to your smoothie.”

Your face was red as you stared at his back. How the hell was he so unphased!?

That's so unfair.

But as you puff out your cheeks in annoyance, you notice how one of his hands is balled up into a fist and his ears are a pretty shade of red.

Casually calling them "daddy" LADS

Word count; 1,913

Themes; slightly barely there suggestive content, fluff, established relationship

Warnings; mention of "daddy" ofc, fluff

Notes; So these turned out more fluffy than I originally intended...honestly, thought they'd be more smutty, but I've learnt that it's really difficult for me to write smut. Or at least, smut with little to no context before it all goes down. I might eventually write some smuttier drabbles, but regardless of smut, I hope you enjoy this little thing I wrote!

You saw that there was an old trend about calling your boyfriend “daddy” and videoing their reaction so, obviously, you wanted to give it a try…

Xavier 

It's been almost a year since you and Xavier started dating– and it was a wonderful eleven months! He told you everything about himself. What his future with you was like, all of his feelings throughout the centuries, and you listened. You wholeheartedly believed him, because it would be one hell of a lie if it wasn't true…and you didn't think Xavier had the time or energy to come up with a complex lie like that. 

But even if you now know, time moves on. There's not much you can do about your future self, so you can't really change the future in that way though…Xavier's here now, in the past, and that's all that matters to you. 

Anyway, today was just a normal day as any. 

You were sitting at the counter, keeping a close eye on Xavier– who was attempting to follow, yet another, cooking tutorial. The man was desperate to cook a decent meal for you. His heart dead set on making you something edible for your upcoming year anniversary…and while that was cute, you also wanted to mess with him. 

You push your cup just out of your reach and make a big show of trying to reach for it, before sighing loudly. 

“Daddy, can you pass me my drink please?” 

You can hear the clang of a spatula hitting the floor and you watch Xavier’s body comically whip around to face you. 

“What?” His head cocks to the side as his wide eyes were set on your face. “Say that again..”

“Hmm? I said ‘Xav, can you pass me my drink, please’.” You copy his head tilt and he quickly shakes his head.

 “No, no you didn't.” He takes a few steps toward you before grabbing your hand in-between both of his. “Say it again.” 

You couldn't resist his sweet puppy dog eyes, so you hold back a smile as you meet his eyes. “I...called you daddy.” 

“Really?” He seems unusually excited. “So are we…?” His gaze lowers to your stomach and you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips. 

Gosh, he was so cute. 

“Baby– no, no. We're not pregnant.” You run your fingers through his hair with a smile on your lips. “Are...you disappointed?” 

“Mmh..” Xavier hums thoughtfully for a moment before he shakes his head. “No. We can just make it a reality later. No need to rush.” 

Zayne 

You and Zayne have only been dating for six months, but it felt like much longer. Having known each other since you were little, you both had always been close– well, your definition of close and his were probably different. You always thought of him as a friend while he tried to keep a distance and thought you hated him. But time brought you both back together with him as your primary care physician. 

The two of you had been flirting up until his birthday and finally made it official once he blew his candles out on the cake you made for him. It was a sweet time, but that was six months ago. 

Now, though, you really want to fluster the man. 

He always embarrasses you and makes you feel nervous, but you never get to see him that way. Sure, his ears will turn red and sometimes he won't meet your eyes when you get too intense with him, but you've never seen him absolutely shocked. And you just wanted to see one look of surprise from him. 

So, what did you decide to do? 

You decided to casually call him "daddy” as a joke.

That should definitely go over well. 

Zayne is seated behind his desk at the hospital, sorting through papers as you longue on his sofa. Your eyes continuously glancing toward the windows to make sure the door was shut and the blinds were closed. 

“If you keep staring at the door, you just might burn a hole through it.” Zayne says, though he didn't even look up from his paperwork. He was attentive like that and probably already knew you wanted something or you were ready to go home. And he was right. 

“When are we going home…daddy?” You ask as you kick your feet in the air behind you. You were on your stomach, resting your cheek against your arms as you watched his expression…which didn't change at all. 

"Just give me a few more minutes, angel, and I'll be done.” Zayne pushes his glasses up with his index finger and clicks his pen, jotting down a few notes. 

“I–” You puff your cheeks out with a small sigh and decide to keep going with it. “I want to go home now, daddy.”

“Didn't I just tell you to be patient?” Now Zayne finally looks up at you with one of his brows raised. “I'll deal with you when we get home.” 

Rafayel 

It's been four months since Rafayel asked you out. Four months since you tugged Rafayel down into the bath with you, which set off a chain reaction of a steamy night, followed by him asking you out the next morning; he also complained that you both went out of order, but he wasn’t too upset when you continued where you left off…

Now, though, you moved out of your apartment and to Rafayel's home, ‘Mo Art Studio’ at Whitesand Bay. 

It was definitely odd at first, but it was a good change of pace. Always being by the ocean, able to take your morning walks together on the beach and collect seashells. You had a whole collection on your desk at work. He'd always give you the most unique and prettiest shells, saying “only the best for his cutie”. 

He was also so easy to fluster. 

You immediately knew you had him wrapped around your finger every time his ears would turn red. That same crimson slowly made its way from his ears to his cheeks, all the way to his whole face. So you assumed your little ‘prank’ would also have the same effect. 

You were sitting on a beach towel in the sand with an umbrella blocking your eyes from the bright sun. In front of you was Rafayel, painting your visage, with an easel. His hand deftly moves across the canvas as he sketches the outline for his new painting. 

Lately, you are the only thing he can paint. Always asking you to stop what you're doing so he can run and get his sketch pad. You could be doing something so normal and mundane, but he'd be struck with the inspiration to record your very image. 

As much as you loved it and thought this was very sweet, after almost two weeks of this…You wanted some form of payback. 

“Hey, daddy, can we take a break for a second? It’s really hot out here.” You squint your eyes to try and see Rafayel's face, your hand fanning at your body because you, seriously, are hot out here. 

“Huh?” 

It's like Rafayel is frozen in time, or buffering. He's just blankly staring at you with a confused expression on his face until his pencil drops into the sand. That's when he quickly stands up  and makes his way toward you. 

“Again.” 

Now, it's your turn to be confused. 

“Raf, what–” 

“Not that, say the other word again.” His ears were red as he crouched down in front of you, a look of determination in his eyes. 

“No– you're making it weird!” You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to put some distance between him as your face turns red. 

“Please, I really need to hear you say it again! I'm seriously going to die if you don't.” There's your overdramatic fishy. 

“Fine, but just this once.” You grumble, turning your head to look away from him. “Daddy…” Though you say it as low as you can and Rafayel groans, tilting his head back. 

“Louder.” He rests his forehead against yours. “Come on, cutie. If you don't…I might want to change that to my new nickname.”

Sylus

It's been about…a year? Yes, definitely a year since you and Sylus started dating. Well, you both have differing opinions on when exactly you started dating. Sylus claims it was the moment he laid eyes on you in the N109 Zone, while you claim it was only about six months ago– which is when you and Sylus made a bet. 

It was a bet where if he came back safely from his mission, he'd leave you alone. He wouldn't bother you anymore, wouldn't talk to you, contact you, anything of the sort…and you won, but you didn't realize he'd actually do it. So whenever you seeked him out to make sure he was safe, and he ignored you, you realized that maybe you did want him in your life. 

This led to you running across the street to him and jumping into his arms like this was a hallmark movie, and you claim this was when you officially started dating Sylus.

But between us, you just agree with Sylus when he says a year, because if you don't, he'll pout for the whole day. 

...And today was one of those ‘pouty Sylus’ days. 

You went on a mission that was probably way too dangerous, even though you told Sylus you were going to slow down on your Hunter's work. But you couldn't just ignore endangered civilians. If any of them would have died, that would've been too much for your sympathetic heart to handle. 

And even if Sylus understands your reasoning, he's still upset that you left without telling him– having woken up to a cold bed without you by his side sent him spiraling into a panic. 

So, when you got home, you noticed he was sulking in the kitchen as he made dinner. 

“Sy…” You take your shoes off by the door, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tentatively walk into the kitchen. Standing behind the counter, you sigh, “I'm reeaally sorry...” 

“If you're reeaaally sorry, then help me make our dinner.” He says, not looking up at you and that doesn't make you feel any better. 

“Okay..” You finally step past the counter and you look around. “So…what do you need?” You were trying to figure out something– anything that could make Sylus feel better when a thought comes to your mind. 

Most guys probably like it when their girlfriend calls them daddy…right? 

“In the cabinet, top shelf. I need a bottle of garlic powder.” 

Okay, you got this. 

You take a deep breath and open the cabinet, straining your arm to try and reach the seasoning bottle, but your fingertips barely brush it and knock it over. “Shit…” You swallow back your nervousness before continuing, “Daddy, can you grab it for me?” 

The room fills with silence for a moment, but then you hear Sylus chuckle. 

“Sure, kitten.” 

Your back suddenly feels warm as a firm chest presses against it and Sylus reaches up from behind you to grab the bottle. 

“I ask you to do one simple thing and you can't even do that.” Sylus chides, clicking his tongue as he pops the bottle open to pour some into the pan on the stove. 

“Da–”

“If you think a few empty words will make me feel better, kitten…you've got to try a lot harder than that.” 

I'd like to say, this is definitely one of my better drabbles– one of my favorites, in fact!

I have like...six more ideas for drabbles and then I'll need to come up with some more. Like these new cards and Rafayel's student photoshoot event really had me thinking of how seriously the LADS men would take roleplaying– and that spawned a whole different drabble idea, so you can definitely look forward to that!

I'm trying to come up with new ways to do my drabbles, so that's why I did a little prelude before I started writing for the guys. Please let me know any feedback yall have for me! Especially with the coloured dialogue, I'm not too sure if I like it, but it seems really pretty and probably makes it easier to tell who is talking apart. (I won't use it for my fic though, only the drabbles!)

Anyway, I have a small personal project I'm working on this weekend so I probably won't be able to write any chapters for my 'Divisa' fic, but I'm still going to post chapter nineteen of 'Twist of Fate' and try to write at least two more chapters since I'm only on twenty-three or so.

I hope you all enjoyed these drabbles and I hope yall have a great night/day! 🩷

[skvrpion]

Familiar [M] Prologue

tw: references to porn & masturbation (f), swearing, drug paraphernalia

Saturday 1:00AM

Kendall blacked out as her body convulsed over her freshly washed comforter, acrylic toes curling and thighs clamping around the pink rose toy tucked in her palm. Her phone? Probably somewhere across the bed as she lost her grip on it to mewl and pant into the cold air of her room. Every other night for the past two weeks and counting, the twenty eight year old found herself in the same position: restless and horny out of her mind with no one there to put her to sleep. Her friends were right she needed a new man - more specifically - some new dick in her life, but she was too damn busy with work and kicking her stupid ass ex to the curb to get it.

So, it led to this - spending nights alone in her apartment masturbating to porn on Twitter

At least the guy she got off to was hot, well from below the neck he was anyway - his username was scvrlord and he never showed his face full online. As much as she frequented his page Kendall knew his half naked body from a mile away: a painfully thick frame accented with toasty skin, the aforementioned surgical scar running the length of his torso, and a delicately done black and grey sleeve trailing the exterior of left arm.

When it came to size, he wasn’t monsterish like his costars, but thick enough to make anyone squirm - simply put with the way he moved, he would leave even the most experienced performers seeing stars, shaking and bottomed out. Besides the physical, his voice was a deep baritone that softly rose every now and then when the sex he was having was amazing.

Something Kendall personally adored about him was his rarely seen and rather deadly set of eyes rimmed in thick lashes; his iris’s never quite settling on a color they bounced from a warm hazel to deep shade of blue, complimenting whatever color balaclava mask he donned for the evening.

Kendall knew it was entirely stupid to have a crush on someone she'd never met, especially a porn star with hundreds of thousands of followers, but something about him - even his tweets in between the back to back smut - reeled her in.

Whether he posted cellphone videos of him getting head or angled flicks of him dicking down a girl in his living room, Kendall found herself enamored by him and the spontaneous sex life he had. Maybe if she had someone like him in her life she wouldn't be as stressed about half the shit she was now.

A girl could only dream.

Right?

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Monday 11:40PM

"Yes I turned those files in yesterday, they should all be in the OneDrive link I sent you. No you don't need a password... yes - I double checked this time, so it should open up fine." Kendall uttered as she clicked down the foyer. If it wasn't her boss driving her up the wall at work, it was her fellow co-worker Jackson. He never stayed out of her hair and insisted on contacting her over the most minuscule things. It was mainly because he wanted to fuck and his advances in the office weren't getting him anywhere but back to his cubicle - alone.

On this lovely night it was nearing 12 in the morning and his pestering had yet to cease from the time Kendall had clocked in that morning.

"Jackson I'm about to get in the elevator and my signal is gonna go out, I'll call you when I get in okay?"

"Ah forreal? Aight, bet."

"It's not like that," she sneered, "this is corporate business remember?"

"Yeah yeah ye-"

She hit end and pretended that her signal had gone out when in reality she had four full bars. The elevator door pinged open and to her surprise someone else was inside. Inhaling deeply she slid in across from the stranger, keeping her eyes glued to a new text message from an unblocked number that slid across her screen. It was like all the annoying ass niggas wanted to get on her nerves tonight.

I know you up right now. When you gone let me get the rest of my stuff??

"What fucking stuff?" she thought out loud, pressing number 15 on the lift and watching the doors close back. Devin had gotten kicked out of her crib over a month ago, and for whatever reason he insisted accusing her of having his stuff hidden away. A loud hiss escaped her lips as she rapidly clicked out a reply.

Idk wtf you on about but I can promise you ain’t shit of yours here. Whatever I didn’t put on the curb prolly somewhere in Alabama rn, check Craigslist and block this number💯

Before she could end her text with a hearty ‘fuck off’, her screen cut to calling and Devins new number flooded the screen. Kendall softly thudded her head off the elevator wall and audibly deep sighed for the millionth time that day.

"Can a bitch catch a break? Goddamn." she said aloud, prompting the stranger next to her to let out a deep chuckle. It made her ears perk up and her body freeze a little. The laugh was familiar, one she'd heard way too many times before to not know.

'There's no way in hell...No. You just bugging out right now.' Thought Kendall.

To her relief the lift promptly stopped on 15, and she made no hesitation to get out and beeline to her apartment. As she stepped out, however, her keys hit the elevator floor and landed by the strangers foot. Before she could fully whip around and snatch them up, he’d already beat her to it, her eyes making a deathly slow trail from the floor to the hand holding her hot pink key ring.

Kendall’s heart went straight to her ass as she caught a full view of who she'd been standing next to.

He had the same tatts, the same voice, the same eyes.

"Here you go."

"Oh shit - thank you. Have a nice night."

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

When Kendall got inside her apartment, she let out a loud expletive-filled exhale and contemplated running straight for her room. Either she was losing her mind or fate was one hell of a thing. She knew she couldn't do it - whatever it was – sober, so she grabbed a bottle of Patron off of her kitchen counter and mixed the strongest margarita she could muster. After half an hour of contemplation and small sips of tequila Kendall finally caved in and headed to her room. Her heart was thumping out of her chest as she logged in and clicked on the profile she'd often visit. In a blind rush she navigated her way to his DM's and felt her heart skip a beat as the small dot next to his picture was green - he was awake and online, probably uploading a new video given the time.

"Don't be a pussy Ken, you already here." She mumbled

Before she could fully chicken out the liquor kicked in and forced her fingers to type.

k3nlaflair: you live in Av. 76?

…

…

k3nlaflair: I think I just ran into you.

k3nlaflair: on the elevator

…

scvrlord: oh shit, that was you?

Bingo. She held back a scream and composed herself as she thought of a decent reply back.

k3nlaflair: this is mad weird lol sorry

scvrlord: nah baby you good, you beautiful btw.

…

k3nlaflair: 🫠 thank you

k3nlaflair: and sorry for bothering you so late, this is crazyyyy lol thanks for the save

scvrlord: nah you good I promise

scvrlord: rs you the first person my age I’ve seen since I moved 😂

k3nlaflair: yeahh Av. is a nursing home if you squint hard enough lol they don’t really tell they yuppies about it either.

scvrlord: I def see now. since ion really know anybody around here you down to grab lunch this weekend? on me.

Kendall couldn't believe her eyes. Not only was this man living in the same building as her, he was now casually asking her out for a chat. If she fumbled this her friend group would never let her live this down. Heart fluttering, she quickly tapped away at her keyboard and blindly hit send.

k3nlaflair: I know a chill spot in K-town that’s real lowkey. foods to die for and the drinks are stiff as you can get lol!

scvrlord: bet. meet at mine Friday night. that cool?

k3nlaflair: bet.

Kendall was every bit of speechless. This was the clutch of the year - no the century - all thanks to her shitty roster and butter fingers. As she reread her final three letter text for the hundredth time in those fleeting minutes, a sheepish grin curled across her face.

‘Kendall: 1, Devin: 0’

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

first and foremost big thank you to the gang for inspiring (and gently bullying me) to get back in the writing field again, love y’all downnn 😭🫡

pls don’t be shy to leave a comment, suggestions for part one, whatever you like my friends 🫶🏽 see you in the next one

TAGS: @kimuzostar @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @yassbishimvintage @melaninpov @planetblaque @jenlovey @ranikyani

[mssorceressupreme]

Truth or Dare | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Fred realises his true feelings for you once you are dared to french kiss George during a round of truth or dare. Draco then forces you to kiss him instead, which only results in a brawl. You then take Fred back to the common room and help clean his wounds.

Warnings/tags: violence/fighting, jealous!fred, kissing, non-con touch, Draco being a git (sorry malfoy lovers 😭), cleaning wounds after a fight trope, reader isn't in a specified house here, spicy ending (if u squint)

———

The Ravenclaw common room had never seen a gathering quite like this. The enchanted blue flames flickered in the fireplace, casting a radiant glow over the room, which today, was packed with students from all four houses.

Luna had invited everyone over, claiming that a “spontaneous social gathering” would be a great way to pass the time and forget about your studies for a while.

The usual gryffindor group, Cedric and some hufflepuffs, the slytherin trio and Cho, all decided to partake in this gathering.

And so, there you all were, sitting in a large, chaotic circle on the floor, playing a game of truth or dare that had long spiralled out of control.

The rules were simple: if you refused a dare or a truth, you had to take Veritaserum and spill your deepest, darkest secret in front of everyone. No one wanted to risk that.

So far, Harry had been dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the room, which led to him—rather sheepishly—kissing Ginny, earning a gag from Ron. But moments later, Ron found himself a stuttering mess when Hermione had been dared to sit on his lap for two rounds, her face burning red while he struggled to keep his cool.

Neville, poor thing, had been forced to recount an embarrassing moment where he tripped down an entire staircase in front of his crush, which turned out alright anyway because they went to Madam Pomfrey together and spent the whole day chatting.

And now, it was your turn.

Draco, who sat beside you, leaned in with a smug grin. “Alright Y/N, let’s make this interesting,” he drawled. “I dare you to French kiss the person sitting across from you.”

You turned your head, your stomach flipping.

And there sat George Weasley, grinning at you like he had already won.

The room erupted into cheers, and George wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “Well, Y/N, I won’t say no,” he teased, leaning back on his hands.

Your heart sank a little—not because George was a bad choice, but because you wished it was his twin instead.

Still, rules were rules.

Taking a deep breath, you stood up and took slow tentative steps across the large circle, kneeling in front of George. “Alright Georgie, just get it over with,” you muttered, cheeks burning.

George chuckled. “Hey! At least pretend to be excited.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling lightly, before leaning in, pressing your lips to his. He kissed you back easily, bringing a hand to your neck, letting it linger a moment longer than necessary before you pulled away, flustered.

George gave you a grin then winked, and you smiled back. He was one of your closest friends, after all; teasing you came naturally to him.

"Okay that's done!" Flustered, you rose up and hurried back to your spot next to Draco.

"You guys are adorable." Cho, who was sitting on the other side of you, nudged you gently, and you laughed nervously.

Sure, George was handsome, humorous, and kind, but he wasn't Fred. To most people, they were pretty much the same person, two halves of a whole, but to you, it was different. There was something about Fred that you saw differently.

Speaking of Fred, you shot a quick glance in his direction, curious as to his whole reaction regarding the scene that just unfolded.

Fred hadn’t said a word.

He sat stiffly, arms crossed, his jaw tight as he glared at his twin. Something in his chest twisted when he saw George’s smug grin.

But it wasn't entirely George's fault. You see, no one knew of Fred's secret crush on you. Would you call it a crush? Man, feelings were a complicated mystery to Fred, he never bothered going down that lane, it was foreign to him. Best avoid all that sappy stuff, y'know.

Draco, however, was unimpressed. “That was pathetic,” he scoffed, leaning closer to you. “You call that a French kiss? It had to be longer.”

You folded your arms, tilting your head to the side. “You didn’t even say how long.”

Draco smirked. “Fine, then, two minutes. You can do it on me instead. Save you the hassle of walking over there again."

The room let out a collective “ooooh,” and your stomach churned.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" Crabbe, Goyle and Dean chanted.

"Wha—I already did the dare!" You countered, raising your hands in defence.

"Hmm now that Draco mentioned it, it was a bit of a short kiss, barely a French kiss, more like a Portuguese kiss." Lee agreed, resting his hand on his chin.

"Portuguese kiss? That's not even a thing you git." Angelina chortled, throwing her head back.

Before you could react, Draco leaned in slightly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers barely grazed your cheek, but it was enough to make you shift uncomfortably. He patted your head, smiling like he was doing you some kind of favour.

You didn’t like it.

But Draco was your friend, and this was supposed to be fun, so you ignored it. You didn't want to ruin the mood for everyone so you forced yourself to tolerate it.

Fred, however, wasn’t ignoring it.

His hand was clenched into a tight fist in his lap, and his usually mischievous eyes were laced with something entirely different.

Draco leaned in again, wrapping one arm around you. “Come on, then,” he murmured, his smirk widening. “Or do you want the Veritaserum?”

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. You didn’t want to kiss him. But you definitely didn’t want to take the serum, either.

Draco took your hesitation as an invitation. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re scared.”

The crowd cheered again, urging you on.

Draco removed his arm then ruffled your hair slightly, "Don't be a wuss, I'll make it enjoyable for ya."

"Don't be scared Y/N, it's only a kiss!" Seamus encouraged, hoping to make you feel better, but it only made you feel worse.

Only a kiss? You wanted to save french kissing for someone special, not some ridiculous dare.

Draco leaned closer, nuzzling his nose into your neck. His hand brushed against your arm, he was so close that you could now smell his fresh scent. You leaned back instinctively, smiling awkwardly while brushing your arm.

Everyone was so caught up encouraging the two of you to kiss that no one paid attention to the speed at which Fred stood up from the floor and bolted to Draco, tackling him harshly.

A collective gasp echoed through the room as the two of them crashed onto the floor. Draco barely had time to react before Fred punched him, his face twisted in pure rage. The two of them were now in a brawl, wrestling each other on the ground. It was clear that no one was going easy on each other.

“Keep your hands off her,” Fred snapped, his voice low and furious.

Draco, stunned for only a second, sneered up at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

"Fred! Oi! Stop, it's just a game!" Lee's attempt at stopping Fred with his words was useless.

Fred wasn’t listening. His fists clenched, his breathing heavy as he pinned Draco down, gripping his shirt harshly.

Draco’s smirk returned. “Merlin, are you jealous Weasley?”

Fred loosened his grip, blinking slowly, "I..."

"Called it. Bet you wished it was you getting to french kiss Y/N then. Why don't you let me finish my dare with her so I can show you how it's done eh?" Draco remarked, all too obnoxiously for Fred's liking.

Fred's eyes grew darker, laced with furiousness.

He lunged again, and in a matter of seconds, they were full-on fighting.

Gasps and shouts filled the room as they tumbled, fists flying, knocking over a pile of books and scattering cards from an abandoned wizarding chess game. The flood thudded heavily, as they continued their wrestling.

“Fred! Draco! Stop!” Voices pleaded, but they were drowned out as Fred was blinded by rage. How dare Draco force himself onto you like that?!

No one listened.

You watched them in pure horror as they fought; you joined the others in yelling at them to stop, but none of them listened.

Hermione immediately went to comfort you, placing a comforting hand on your arm and sending you an apologetic look. Was this all because of you? You felt like shit for causing this, bloody hell, you should've just french kissed Draco.

“Merlin’s beard, Fred, stop!” George tried pulling his twin back, but Fred shook him off, shoving him away.

Cedric attempted to pull Draco off Fred, but Draco pushed him aside, scoffing, "Not now Diggory!"

Draco, despite being an arrogant prat, was also a decent fighter, and he managed to shove Fred back, wiping a bit of blood from his lip.

“What the hell?!” you finally yelled, eyes darting from Fred to Draco.

Fred froze.

His furious gaze met yours, his chest rising and falling heavily, as he wiped some blood off his lips.

He swallowed hard. Then, without a word, he turned and stormed out of the common room.

You hesitated only a second before running after him.

—

You found him on the astronomy tower balcony, leaning against the railing, gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white.

The night air was cold, but Fred’s skin was burning.

You took a deep breath. “Fred—”

“Why don’t you go check on Draco?” he cut in sharply. “Or George. Your boyfriends.”

Your brows furrowed. “They’re not my boyfriends. You're being ridiculous now.”

Fred let out a short, humourless laugh. “Really? You were getting pretty cozy with George back there.”

You sighed. “It was a dare, Fred.”

“Oh, and Draco just happened to be all over you?” He turned to face you, and that’s when you saw it—his bruised lip, the cut on his cheekbone, the faint traces of blood at the corner of his mouth.

"Come on, I know we're friends but I can handle myself." You assumed he was being protective as a friend, so you attempted comforting him, but failed miserably at doing so.

"Yeah, friends." He pressed his lips together.

You took a step closer wanting to reach up, but Fred’s eyes flickered elsewhere. “Don’t.”

You froze.

“I don’t need you feeling bad for me,” he muttered, turning back to the railing. His grip tightened. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity, Fred,” you said softly.

Silence stretched between you. The wind howled through the tower, whipping his hair slightly, but Fred didn’t move.

Your gaze drifted to his hands. His knuckles were raw, bruised from the fight.

Without thinking, you reached out, gently prying one of his fists open. He held his breath, glancing down at you.

Your fingers traced the swelling on his knuckles, your touch featherlight. “We need to clean this up.”

Fred didn’t protest. He just stood there, his jaw clenched, watching you. He released his breath, silently agreeing.

Wordlessly, you pulled his hand in yours, leading him down the spiral staircase, away from the cold, away from the fight, away from everyone else.

—

The fire crackled softly in the Gryffindor common room, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The common room was empty—everyone was either asleep or still in the Ravenclaw tower, talking about what had happened.

Fred sat on the couch, his arms resting on his knees, his head tilted slightly downward. He hadn’t said much since you dragged him back.

You returned from the bathroom with a damp cloth and knelt in front of him.

“Hold still,” you murmured, gently dabbing at the dried blood on his lip.

Fred flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. He just watched you, his hazel eyes unreadable, though there was a glimmer of something, awe, perhaps. His eyes studied yours, the way your eyebrows furrowed as you focused on cleaning his wounds. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, you were the epitome of beauty in his eyes, a darling angel.

You focused on cleaning him up, biting your lip. The silence between you was begging to be broken, heavy with something left unsaid. But you chose to ignore it, shifting your focus to getting Fred cleaned up. You see, it was the way you were always so caring towards everyone, so kind, always selflessly giving your time away to help those who needed it. That was part of the reason Fred had fallen for you in the first place, your kindness.

Fred exhaled sharply as you pressed on his wound.

"Sorry..." you mutter, but he gently removed your arm, and rested it on his knee.

“I don’t know how to stop this,” he said suddenly.

You paused, looking up at him. “Stop what?”

He let out a cheerless laugh. “This. You. Making me feel like a complete idiot.”

Your heart pace increased. “I—”

“Do you know what it’s like?” His voice was raw, unfiltered, a slight rasp as he spoke softly. “Watching you? Seeing every guy in that room touch you? Kiss you?” He shook his head. “I nearly lost my mind.”

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away.

“Never thought I'd admit it, but I’ve wanted you,” his voice low, almost trembling. “For so long, and I—” He broke off, exhaling harshly. “And then tonight, I had to sit there and watch it. Merlin, it drove me so bloody mad.”

Your hands were shaking. Was this it? The Fred you never thought would ever return your feelings, about to spew the words right out?

Fred’s eyes locked onto yours, something desperate behind this gaze.

“I hate that you don’t see it,” he muttered.

“See what?” you breathed.

His lips parted, and for a second, he hesitated.

“That I love you.”

Your breath caught, inhaling as you paused.

Fred let out a rough laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Godric, I love you. I don’t just like you, I love you. And it kills me because I know you don’t feel the same way so I just thought I'd keep it to myself but here we are."

Your heartbeat felt as though it was pounding loud enough to wake up the whole dorm.

“You idiot,” you whispered.

Fred blinked. “What?”

“You idiot,” you repeated, your voice shaking. Then, before he could react, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his with all the emotion you've held back, the words you've been dying to say to him.

It was nothing like the kiss with George.

This was everything.

Fred let out a soft, startled sound before his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. His lips moved against yours, desperate, breathless. He kissed you like he had something to prove, like he needed you to know how much he meant it.

And you did.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, getting up from kneeling and he pulled you onto his lap, now straddling him in the common room, to which you were thankful that no one was around.

A soft moan escaped you, as he sucked on your lower lip, your hands tangled themselves in his fluffy hair, tugging lightly.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, you whispered, “I love you too.”

Fred let out a quiet, shaky laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “You better.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, and he grinned.

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, kissing him again as if there was no tomorrow. He smiled into the kiss, desperately needing a round two with you, his Y/N.

[navybrat817]

https://www.tumblr.com/navybrat817/773964651350360064/gummydummy19-zanephillips-richard-armitage?source=share

Why would you do this? 😭

I just reblogged it, nonnie! But let's imagine, shall we?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Warnings: Masturbation, oral sex (referenced), unprotected sex (referenced), stalking, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers (they're warnings, okay?)

Banner by the talented @cafekitsune

Bucky/Steve who is away on a mission and brought a piece of your clothing with them. You’ll never understand why he wants your ruined underwear so much, but you don't argue. Your lingering scent makes his mouth water while he strokes his thick cock and he wishes he was home to bury his tongue deep inside. It isn't always your underwear he brings. Sometimes it’s a shirt or cardigan. He can pretend he’s taking it off before latching onto a nipple. The little gasp you always let out when he does drives him crazy. And you aren't getting out of bed when he gets home.

Bucky/Steve who lives next door to you and one of your shirts somehow ends up in his basket. He knows it’s wrong to jerk off with the garment on his face, but he does it anyway. It smothers his grunts and moans as he imagines what it would feel like to split you open with his cock. You're such a sweetheart with your little waves and smiles, but he wants to see you cry from pleasure. Maybe the other neighbors will hear you scream his name so they know who you belong to.

Bucky/Steve who works for your dad and knows he isn't supposed to touch you, but wants to. You leave your sweater behind on accident one day after a gathering and he uses it before returning it. He moans your name and swipes his thumb over his tip, wondering if you would tease his length and balls with your tongue or if you would beg for him to fuck your throat. You’ll look so beautiful down on your knees, your cunt practically dripping with the need for him to fuck that hole, too. Your dad will have to accept that you belong to him.

Bucky/Steve who doesn't mean to start stalking you. It just happens. You need someone to look after you. So, it isn't his fault he’s currently laying on your bed, touching himself like he watched you do the night before. His fingers will stretch your pussy much better than your own, and he’ll make room for his cock. He may finish on the fabric and leave it in the middle of the bed for you as a teaser for what’s to come. Because the next time he does it'll be inside you. And you’ll thank him for it.

Nothing to see here, lovelies. Go about your business. ❤️ Love and thanks! ❤️

[boneywones]

the infantilisation of papyrus is not his canon self. please watch a video analysis of his character before you start saying stuff like this. and, if im looking at this message correctly, nobody swears in undertale, so why would papyrus? yes papyrus is kind but not “innocent”, you’re literally proving peoples points by saying that he is 😭😭 papyrus is a grown ass man that literally owns a house with his brother and HAS access to weapons.

nobody is trying to make him out to be a super edgy guy, they’re just pointing out that the implications of making sans out to be a parental supervisor for papyrus and he would never swear or be rude is infantilisation and teetering over the edge of ableism.

signed, an autistic person

anyway i agree with op, papyrus would love those images, it reminds me of the skeleton flag he has hanging up in his room

(plus, underfell is more than just everyone being edgy, mean and wanting to kill everyone)

(forgot to add this but yeah, papyrus and the other main cast has technically swore if you add the art book contents to its main contents, which is the game. also, flowey is shown swearing in other pages)

papyrus would definitely fw this genre of images

[htaesan]

　ᅠ ✿　ᅠ NOT THAT I CARE OR ANYTHING　　────　ᅠ ( han taesan )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀your ex, seemingly sweet anton, spreads malicious rumours about you that could potentially ruin your entire academic weapon career, so you have to take desperate measures𑁋and that includes a fake-dating contract and the bane of your existence, han taesan.

　　　ᅠ 한태산 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 13k ⠀ genre college au fluff angst if you squint one sided rivals to lovers academic weapon x campus crush ⠀ contains mentions of food vulgar words skinship pet names several ocs ⠀ note i’m sorry if this fic is.. all over the place a bit coz,, yea!! but this fic is highly.. self-indulgent.. heheh! and i originally wanted to make this more angsty but i’m already sad and single so, No! anyways, enjoy reading ^_^ ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

“ALRIGHT. Let’s do it.”

As you gaze into Taesan’s determined eyes, the entire series of events flashes through your mind. 

It was back in your first year of university—early winter, the day of the first snowfall. You were walking towards the three-floor library, the cold wind stinging your eyes. You rushed inside, grateful for the gush of artificial warm air that greeted you as soon as the doors closed behind you. The library was quite packed for some reason, and you could barely spot any empty seats.

You walked towards the edge of the library, a corner with the largest window of the level. There it was—one of the only empty seats in the entire library—but that seat was next to a boy, heavily occupied with his studies. Your pace slowed down as you hesitated. The boy had a focused blank look on his face, his headphones on, and several papers and notebooks were scattered on the table around him.

You felt like you wanted to just leave and go back to your room, but remembering how cold it was outside, you decided against it. 

After taking a deep breath, you approached him. With a shaky smile, you tapped the boy’s shoulder, muttering a silent prayer. 

“Excuse me,” you said as he lowered his headphones to his neck. “May I sit here? I-I mean, if it’s cool with you..”

He simply nodded. “Sure.”

You had sat down next to the mysterious boy for the entire day, not knowing that, in the present, he would be the bane of your existence. 

In this moment, you’re brought back to the present, startled at how you’re standing in front of him. The mysterious boy that you had sat next to turned out to be Han “Taesan” Dongmin—KOZ School of Law’s campus crush. There’s almost nothing “bad” that you’re heard of him, yet, when you find yourself walking towards him with a fiery determination in your eyes—you immediately know that you’re about to get hit with something you’d never expect. 

“A-are you sure?” you say, surprised to even find yourself stuttering. You’ve held yourself to such a high reputation—being your school’s academic weapon—you’ve worked hard to keep yourself true to that name. 

Well, to be fair, you didn’t expect Taesan to even say yes to your ridiculous plan—given that all that’s he’s ever done for you is say everything that will get on your nerves.

Taesan gives you a smirk. “Of course,” he says, clearing his throat. “Being the boyfriend of KOZ Academy’s academic weapon isn’t something you get to do everyday.”

The way he presses the emphasis on the word ‘boyfriend’ makes you flinch. It reminds you of your stupid plan; who in their right mind would offer Han Taesan—your rival—a fake dating deal just to make rumours about themselves go away?

“Right,” you roll your eyes. “Anyway, I think we need to enforce some guidelines and boundaries regarding this… set-up.”

Taesan shoves his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight to let himself stand more comfortably. The smirk still on his face, he replies, “alright. Hit me with all of ‘em.”

You whip your phone out, quickly showing him a document that you spent an entire night typing out—complete with every single thing he needed to do for you. 

��Here,” you say, frustrated at how Taesan’s smug smirk just never falters. 

Taesan runs a hand through his hair before leaning down to read through the document displayed on your phone. He finishes reading it quickly, taking a step closer to you after. He doesn’t say anything for a while, only to startle you by abruptly saying, “I agree.”

“What–?” you blurt out, surprised once again. You thought that Taesan would be more picky than– 

“Your terms are easy for me to do. However,” you narrow your eyes at the boy who’s towering in front of you. Of course he’s picky—he’s Taesan. “I’d like you to agree to my conditions as well. If I have to do some things for you, you’d have to do some things for me too.”

You sigh before nodding. How hard could it be? Besides, this whole ‘relationship’ you’re having with Taesan is merely a fake dating set-up. 

“Okay.”

Taesan whips out a full-blown smug smirk, making you roll your eyes. He pushes his glasses up his nose bridge, holding out two fingers. 

“First, you have to also put in the effort to make things real. Like, wearing my jersey when I have basketball games, and wearing my initials ‘round your neck,” he pushes his middle finger down, the smug grin still plastered on his face, “and secondly, you’ll have to let me kiss you anytime.”

The moment the word ‘kiss’ escapes his mouth, you choke on thin air. 

Why is my plan backfiring on me? 

“What? No–”

Taesan shrugs. “Basically, physical contact is allowed to be done anytime.”

You feel your face flush, immediately recalling the third condition that you showed Taesan. No physical affection unless needed. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that—it’s clashing with my third term.”

“But your first term: ‘the other party must always do his utmost best to make the relationship seem real’ exists, am I right?” Taesan objects relaxedly. “Then, my second term doesn’t clash with that. And I also do believe that that first term of yours comes before the rest. Am I right?”

You grit your teeth, sucking in a sharp breath. How could you forget? Taesan will always work to have the last word—be that in court or in conversations. 

Plus, he’s not entirely wrong. 

Though, you’ve never been someone who lets Taesan win willingly. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, your heart twisting in detest at the way Taesan’s face lights up with a smirk again. 

“Then, we have a deal?” Taesan asks. 

You stare into his dark brown eyes once again, registering what you’re about to commit yourself to. All just to get rid of your ex and the rumour he’s pulled you into. 

You hold out your hand, Taesan gladly reciprocating. 

“Deal.”

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

IT didn’t hit you that you’re officially Han Taesan’s girlfriend that night. However, the next morning, right after the two of you signed the document at the coffee shop you always study at—it hit you like a million bricks from the sky. 

You’re in a “relationship” with the person you loathed the most for the past year. The exact same man who everyone adores, who’s called the it-boy, the campus crush—is now your most “beloved”. Freshman you would rather jump off a cliff than to offer her nemesis a fake-dating pact. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I guess. 

“Here,” Taesan hands you a velvet box—one that obviously contains jewellery of some sort. 

Of course. Han Taesan’s always prepared. 

You let out a deep sigh, knowing what’s inside. Despite that, you ask, “what’s this?”

Taesan gives you a grin, one that you always see him don during the countable times that he beats you in quizzes. “Open it—I’m sure you’ll like it.”

You run your fingers around the edges of the velvety box, sceptical at Taesan’s sudden soft tone. “Don’t talk to me like that,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. 

Taesan, instead of immediately throwing a scoff in your face, simply leans back into his seat with a chuckle. 

Not waiting for whatever reply he’s preparing to throw to you, you open the box. Your eyes lay upon a beautiful, dainty necklace with a “H.D” pendant, nested elegantly in the box. You bite back a gasp, though you’re unable to hide your surprise. The silver necklace is one of the most beautiful pieces of jewellery you’ve yet to lay your eyes upon—it’s dainty and simple, yet it screams elegance in the best way possible. 

You look up at Taesan, obviously bug-eyed. “What- I’m- thank you?”

Taesan throws his head back, laughing. He perches an eyebrow up, clearly amused. “What am I supposed to answer? ‘You’re welcome’?”

Oh. It’s part of his terms. 

You glare at him. 

Not missing a beat, Taesan says with a big grin on his face, “what is your lazy ass waiting for? Put it on—or do you need me to help with that?”

You massage your temples, tempted to stick your tongue out at him, hissing the obvious at him—that you do not want to wear his initials around your neck. 

“I don’t need your help,” you say between gritted teeth, harshly yanking the necklace from the box. You swiftly clasp the necklace around your neck, secretly surprised that you’re able to do so. 

Maintaining a glare, you retort, “I’m only wearing this stupid necklace because it’s part of your terms.”

You throw your gaze elsewhere, Taesan laughing his stomach out in the background. Why is he finding your irritated state so funny? 

The pendant feels cold against your skin, sending tingles. You gulp, feeling odd. You hadn’t announced your ‘relationship’ to your friends yet—but seeing you with Taesan’s initials could certainly start rumours. 

A part of you is jumping with triumph—your plan is starting to set its course, while another part of you is afraid of it all. What if you’re finally not good at something, no matter how much you try—pretending you’re in love with your rival, the bane of your existence?

“We’ll start slow,” you hear Taesan say, pulling you back into reality. You quickly morph into your stoic expression—one that you find yourself often putting up around people. “Like everyone else does. Soft launch.”

“Ah,” you manage, nodding. “Sounds good.”

“Even though that necklace certainly is a big jump for a soft launch,” Taesan voices, chuckling. His words cause you to narrow your eyes at him, hyper aware of the cold metal against your skin—a mark that Taesan managed to place on you. 

It’s all fake, you chant to yourself. Once Anton gets the message, it’ll all be over. 

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THE past few weeks had been a blur. Nothing was out of the ordinary—you attended classes, performed mootings and sent in assignments like usual. Though, only one thing that was out of the routine.

Taesan no longer felt like a thorn to your side. 

You still hate him—you despise the way he carries himself, so proud and confident. You wish you could punch his face for the way he’s so smooth with his words, the way that his charm works on everyone so well. You absolutely hate the way a handsome idiot like him had the potential to beat you in every single subject if you slacked for even a minute. 

Yet, to the public, he’s your boyfriend. 

A cliche: rivals to lovers, they say. 

Despite being the one proposing the whole fake dating plan, you had been the one following Taesan’s itinerary so far. The two of you had finally exchanged phone numbers, and at night, Taesan would always send a list of ideas on how to make the soft launch more obvious day by day. 

The first week, you found yourself wearing tops that highlighted the H.D pendant, styling your hair to make it more noticeable—you even went as far as attending Taesan’s birthday celebration to top the chances of people noticing the pendant. And Taesan didn’t inform you of this one, but you often found him telling his friends, yours, or random coursemates to pass you drinks and snacks. You had no idea how Taesan had gotten the list of all your favourite things to munch on, but you secretly did enjoy the free flow of snacks. Anton had passed you a snack from Taesan too—five packs of your favourite Choco Pie. You couldn’t forget the bewildered face Anton had as he passed them to you, eyes filled with question and a hint of jealousy.  

“What’s up with Han?” he asked.

You shoved the Choco Pies into your shoulder bag, biting back a smile. Who wouldn’t be jolly after getting five of their favourite tidbits? 

“How would I know?” you replied bitterly. You quickly turn away from Anton, the uncomfortable feeling of being around him overpowering the bubbly feeling you had from getting snacks. 

“Well, those Choco Pies are from him,” Anton repeated for the second time. “And I don’t recall him being anything but hostile to you.”

You suppress a scoff. “Maybe he’s had a change of heart? His brain is probably tired of coming up with things to try and outsmart me,” you muttered. As if. 

“Well, if anything—if that asshole tries to do anything to you, I’ll… be here for you, Y/N,” Anton said, taking a step closer. Your eyes widened and your jaw clenched. You quickly finished packing your bag up, swinging it over your shoulders. 

You said that last time, too. 

“Don’t talk to me, Anton,” you responded as monotony as possible before running out of the lecture hall, not giving Anton even a glance. 

The following weeks, Taesan was hanging out with you even more than the previous week. He wasn’t being too obvious, but to you, him walking slightly behind you and not throwing a loud sarcastic remark was already an apparent sign that would show everyone that your dynamics had changed. 

Anton had found yet another chance to corner you after a Public International Law lecture. You stayed back in the hall to reread your theoretical essay before sending it in. Behind you, Taesan was packing up his things, busy scrolling through something in his phone. 

“Hi, Y/N,” you froze when Anton’s voice reached your ear drums. 

You look up at him with a glare. “What do you want?”

Anton flashed his usual pitiful, soft smile. “Nothing. Just a meal with you—this week has been quite stressful for you, right? I heard that last Monday’s mooting was rough.”

“You’re not even a law student, Anton,” you seethed. The KOZ School of Business student ID card hanging on Anton’s neck looked extremely out of place amongst the ocean of law students. “Please kindly get lost, go back to the Business building.”

“My course mates are boring. Besides, you’re more fun to be around,” Anton replied. “I know we… haven’t been on good terms, but give me a chance to fix it all?”

You gritted your teeth, your hands beginning to shake. 

The audacity of this boy… where is my stupid fake boyfriend when I need him–?

“I think she clearly said for you to get lost, bud.”

You fought back a grin. Finally. 

“Han?” Anton tilted his head. “Wait– who are you to tell me that?”

Taesan stood next to you, his backpack dangling from one shoulder. His height towered significantly above you, making you standing right below his shoulders—enough to match Anton. “Who do you think I am?”

Anton’s eyes darted towards the pendant on your décolletage, his eyes bulging. “What the…” you heard him mutter under his breath. 

Taesan seemed to notice this too, and he swiftly pulled you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “So, get it now? Get lost, Lee, and give your ex some space. An ex is an ex for a reason.”

Anton then left with a fuming expression, leaving you in fits of relieved laughter after. You thanked Taesan, who simply responded with a polite smile. 

“By the end of this, don’t forget the wish, yeah?” he said, before walking out of the lecture hall. 

You stood there, blinking profusely. You had completely forgotten the last clause of your agreement with Taesan—once you were satisfied with his service, you had to grant him one wish. Anything that he wanted. 

You face palmed yourself. Why didn’t you think twice before typing that down? You mentally made a note to yourself to prepare your wallet for the outrageous request that the thorn in your side would make later on. 

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“ARE you and Taesan dating?” 

Sophia’s question makes you almost spit your lunch through your nose. 

“What?”

“Girl, don’t you dare pretend not,” Yunjin interrupts, pointing her spoon at you. “You literally have his initials as a necklace that you never take off! H.D., which means Han Dongmin, right? Isn’t that his real name?”

“It’s not like–”

“No, no. It’s so obvious! Taesan’s around you more now, and he even gave you a birthday present!”

Sophia smiles, “he looks at you so differently now!” 

Yunjin laughs, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, that too, I guess,” she then looks at you, directly in the eyes, “I guess Han Taesan and Y/N L/N have finally begun their lovers era, huh?”

You feel your cheeks warming up, and guilt fills your chest. You draw a sharp inhale before telling the girls the full story. And subconsciously, your fingers find the pendant, playing with it. 

“It’s fake,” you sigh, “I mean, not the necklace—he’s just pretending. I’m pretending, too. None of this is… real.”

Sophia gasps and Yunjin frowns. 

“Are you… sure? What for?” Sophia asks.

Yunjin nods in agreement. “I’ve always thought that dude had feelings for you, but I… I didn’t realise it’s actually wrong and my deductions were totally off.”

You scoff, though Yunjin’s words left you wondering. “Taesan doesn’t like me—have you girls seen how he treats me?”

“He treats you well,” Yunjin states plainly, shoving a spoonful of rice into her mouth. 

“No,” you immediately shake your head, “he hates seeing me happy! He always finds a way to stick his annoying nose into my life, mocking me. He’s like always, always there to only laugh at my face.” 

“Then why did he agree?” Sophia asks. 

“To what?”

“To fake date you,” she continues, taking a sip of her yakult. “Well, I’m sure you have a plan—a contract and all—don’t you?”

Your eyes widen. How do these two girls know you so well? 

“Yeah. I do. I’m doing all this because of Anton,” the look on your friends’ faces makes you feel a little relieved, “I need him to shut up about me.”

You recall the ridiculous rumour you’ve heard about you from Yunjin, that’s been going around like crazy—the rumour that you used to date Anton because he’s rich and that you used him as a bribe to get outstanding grades. Those close to you knew that is and would never become true—yet people are always jealous of others who have certain things better than them. 

It may seem like a small matter to some, but to you, it’s a matter of reputation. Your whole image and potentially, your graduation is at risk. What if the rumour reaches some professor and they report you? You couldn’t risk the huge amount of money and time you spent, only to be scrapped off the dean’s list due to some rumour. 

Yunjin herself had recorded proof of Anton trying to turn her against you, using that rumour. If she hadn’t shown you the recording, you wouldn’t have believed that sweet, kind Anton was the one who spread those malicious whispers about you.

Now, you’ve got to end it all. One way or another.

You continue finishing your lunch, Taesan somehow in mind. By the end of your lunch, you’re convinced that this is truly all an act—it’s nothing real, and in the end, you’re both just people who hate each other and use each other for selfish, personal reasons.

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“DO I really have to wear your ugly varsity jacket?” Dongmin hears you grunt through the call. He stifles a laugh, tossing a ball up and down. 

“Obviously, you dimwit,” he replies, “you’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Dongmin lets himself smile. The word rolls off his tongue like a simple melody—it feels natural for him to say. He finds it odd, yet entertaining—your reaction is worth it all. Besides, it’s quite refreshing to take a break from hating you, sometimes. 

“Besides, your ex is going to be there,” Dongmin reminds, his voice more throaty than expected. “He’s on the team as well, remember?”

“Yeah,” he catches your quiet answer.  

“Anyway, how do you even have time for all this?” you question from the other end of the line. 

“Hmm,” Dongmin hums, “I do have time.” 

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” you hiss. “You’re in law school, Han Taesan.”

“What? Like it’s hard?”

Dongmin lets out a hearty laugh as he hears you gasp—one of the loudest and most genuine expressions he’s gotten out of you yet. 

“I’m so done with you,” you huff. Dongmin hears you shuffle through your closet, most likely finding something to wear. 

“You say that everytime,” Dongmin whispers to himself softly. 

“Anyway,” you announce loudly, “you better have some food for me once I arrive—I’m wearing your stupid varsity jacket.”

“Alright, sweetheart, anything for you,” Dongmin jests in a sing -song voice.

He hears you yelp in disgust, chuckling. “Yuck! Fuck off, Taesan!”

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IT’S a friendly match, nothing serious, Taesan had said; yet you’re here amongst other significant others, to watch him and his team play against another school’s team. 

At the bleachers, you feel called out, and insanely out of place. Everyone looks so in love—girlfriends wearing jerseys with their boyfriends’ numbers and names on the back, painted their faces accordingly, and even cheering for them with their hearts; mothers and siblings gathering together to support their sons and brothers.

Everyone looks so genuinely in love, and you’re the only one who’s there just because you have to. You arrived only two minutes before the match started, too, because you obviously don’t love Taesan enough to be rescheduling your work shift to see him play.

You fidget with the edges of the varsity jacket you’re wearing, oddly feeling how it’s perfectly oversized on you. 

Earlier, Taesan had spotted you sitting awkwardly on the bleachers. He ran over to you, quickly handing you a quesadilla and a cup of bubble tea, before jogging back to the basketball court to warm up. He didn’t say anything, nor did you—but the gesture made you feel weirdly fuzzy. 

Taesan did actually get you some food, even though you grumpily yelled at him to do so. You thought he wouldn’t, just so that he could get on your nerves, just like he always does. 

You watch him and the team warm up, pumping up positive energy with each other. You take a bite of your quesadilla, trying to ease your heart—yet you just can’t forget the real reason why you’re here. 

Jersey number 35.

The whistle blows, indicating the start of the game, and you catch Anton’s glance at you. He gives you a wide smile, winking twice—a sign that he made up, thanking you for coming, just like the old days. You grimace, turning away.

The mission is to make it seem like I’m in love with Taesan. 

You intently watch Taesan play in the arena, his moves sharp and powerful. He slips through the opposition’s defense flawlessly, scoring goals smoothly. Every time he throws the ball, it gets into the hoop—people erupt in cheers and he’s surrounded by his teammates. 

And every time, Taesan looks up at you, flashing his signature smirk. His grin sparkles, lighting up the room—it makes you feel like you’re the only one in the huge arena. 

It makes you feel odd. 

Like there’s so much more under that grin he flashes to you every time he scores. 

You touch the pendant on your décolletage, the cold metal stinging against your skin. Your fingers trace the letters—the initials of Taesan’s birth name—reminding you this is all a set-up. You’re supposed to pretend, and Taesan is pretending too. 

He must be.

Taking a deep breath, you tug the varsity jacket closer to your body, shoving your hands into its pockets. The weight of Taesan’s name and number lay heavy on your back, yet you don a bright smile—trying your best to show your support for him. 

Right now, you’re Han Taesan’s girlfriend. Player number 11’s girlfriend.

The match ends with Anton’s final goal, and KOZ Academy’s team wins 115-113. The entire gym erupts in waves of cheer and heartfelt hugs, every attending person feeling proud of their team, losing or not. You jog down the stairs, heading towards Taesan, whose height stands out in the crowd. 

When you reach the end of the stairs, you notice Anton’s gaze on you. You glance at him, the weight of past memories dragging you down. At the end of these exact same stairs, you used to run straight to Anton, engulfing him in a hug after a match. You used to kiss his cheek, congratulating him for a successful game. You used to feel like your entire world revolved around him, and that you would be happy with him. 

But that was in the past. Now, you can look at Anton with nothing in your heart. You feel nothing but plain resentment—damning him for the things he did to you. You had thought he was the love of your life, that you’d grow old with him—but Anton had other plans, and another girl that he prioritised more than you. 

You turn your head away, directing your gaze towards Taesan. He’s talking to his friends, his hair wet from the sweat. He’s grinning proudly, talking about something that’s interesting to boys. 

You sigh. Hopefully this whole set-up works—Anton leaves you alone, the rumours die down, and you can go back to bashing Taesan’s head. 

And hopefully, you can move on, too. Once and for all.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Anton take a step towards you. Though, what you don’t see is that Taesan is faster. He waves at you, calling your name with a big grin, before running to give you a hug. 

Your eyes widen upon the impact, and it’s like everything is in slow motion. 

Taesan pulls away, ruffling your hair. His eyes crinkle with his grin. “Are you proud of me, darling?”

Darling. 

You gulp. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

You give him a laugh, trying your best to not make it sound staged. Your nose crinkles at the smell of sweaty boys. Taesan notices, of course, and he chuckles. 

“Sorry, I must smell bad. I’ll be sure to spray on some more deodorant next time.”

You gaze into Taesan’s eyes, his arms still around your waist. There’s some kind of softness behind his teasing look—something that you’ve never seen before. 

A small smile forms on your lips, one that you’re unable to hold back. “Good job, Taesan.”

“Yeah?” Taesan laughs, his eyes forming crescent moons. “Thanks, Y/N.”

He then leans in to whisper, “that’s the first time I’ve heard that from you.”

You push him away, rolling your eyes. “Fuck off, Taesan. I’ll be waiting at the bus stop.”

Taesan laughs loudly as you stomp away. “By the way,” he yells, “you look good wearing my number, sweetheart!”

You lower your head, biting your lips to fight two things—the urge to flash the middle finger to the jolly Taesan behind you, and the weird fluttering feeling that erupts in your stomach every time he calls you ‘sweetheart’.

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“Y/N,” you turn around, finding a panting Anton in front of you. 

You’re standing in line outside one of the most famous pasta restaurants in the heart of the KOZ School of Medicine square, waiting to buy this one pasta dish you’ve been craving for the entire month. You didn’t tell anyone you’d be here—not even Taesan or the girls—so you’re weirded out by the fact that your ex found you here.

“...Anton,” you curtly acknowledge. 

“Is it true?” he asks. 

You force your eyes close for a second, wishing that it wasn’t wrong to beat someone up. “What?”

“That you’re dating Han Taesan. I saw him kissing your cheek last time.”

Your heart almost stops beating for a second. Almost two months have passed, and almost everyone in the entire campus of KOZ Academy knows that you and Taesan are finally getting tired of fighting each other—falling in love instead. 

Your plan has passed the soft launch phase, and now, you’re having your nemesis call you sweet, adoring nicknames out in public. 

“Yes,” you answer, managing a deadpan expression. “What about it?”

“Do you love him?” 

You narrow your eyes at Anton, feeling like if he keeps on shooting questions like this, he’d go home with a black eye. “Why does it matter if I love him or not?”

“Because,” Anton starts, his voice beginning to waver with every following word, “you used to love me.”

His words hang in the air, thick with a known, cursed history. You could hear your heart stutter for a split second, but you shake your head, quickly suppressing the feeling. You take in a sharp breath, feeling the heat of old anger rise in your chest. You force yourself to look at Anton, eyes hardening.

“That was two years ago, Anton,” you say, your voice detached. “And you made sure to end it, remember?”

Anton’s face flickers with something—guilt, regret, maybe even a hint of fear—but you’re not interested in seeing it. You’re sick of it—too familiar with the way he can spin his words to make himself seem like the victim.

“You don’t get to do this,” you continued, lips tightening into a thin line. “You don’t get to just show up and act like we can pick up where we left off, after what you did with Mina."

Anton’s face darkens the moment your old best friend’s name leaves your mouth, but you hold his gaze without flinching. Anton opens his mouth, probably to throw another lame and poorly explained excuse that you’ve heard before, but you’re faster than he is. 

“Save it,” you snap. “You don’t have any right to ask me if I love Taesan after what you did. You lost that right the moment you lied to me and slept with her.”

Anton looks taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected you to bring that up, but obviously, you don’t care. You’ve held your feelings in for so long—leaving them behind quietly to try and move on without a commotion. You’ve spent enough time letting him walk all over you in the past—you’re not about to let him do it again.

For a moment, Anton looks like he’s about to say something more, but you don’t give him a chance. You turn away, taking a small step back as you glance briefly at the line in front of you. “I’m done with this conversation, Anton. You should be, too.”

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THE next morning, after your first class of the day, you sigh as you find yourself waiting outside of a rather packed coffee shop—allegedly Taesan’s favourite one—bundled up in Taesan’s scarf. Autumn is starting to give way to winter, and as it’s doing so, the winds and temperatures are getting crazier. You bury your face further into the softness of Taesan’s scarf, letting the mixture of champagne orange, passion fruit, and sugar vanilla attack your senses. It’s disturbing, once the fact that the scarf that’s warming you up belongs to Taesan registers in your head; however, you had no choice. Freezing your nose off was the only other option. 

“Hey,” you hear Taesan’s voice, turning instantly towards him. 

“Apple pie latte?” he says, handing you a warm cup of said coffee. Grabbing it from him, you perk your eyebrows up. 

“How did you know?” you say, pushing the scarf down. Taesan shrugs, sipping his own drink. You glance at the sticker on his cup: cinnamon maple latte.

“Instincts.”

You snicker at his reply, rolling your eyes. “Cut me some slack.”

The two of you then walk back towards the law school complex, where both of your classes will be held next. The winds begin to blow, and you find yourself hiding half your face behind Taesan’s scarf. You squint your eyes, blinking harshly as the stray strands of hair sting them. 

“I love autumn, but not this kind,” you mumble. 

Taesan glances at you, and in one swift motion, he grabs your free hand and shoves it into the pocket of his coat. He interlaces his hand with yours, letting his body warmth transfer to you. 

Your eyes widen, your brain slow at processing the situation. You whip your head towards the tall man walking with you, his expression relaxed as ever. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss, trying to pull away. 

Taesan gives you a look that yells ‘really, Y/N?’. “Keeping you warm?”

“I don’t need your help,” you retort, yanking your hand away. 

Taesan grabs it back, shoving it into his pocket. This time, his grip on your hand is firmer than before. “I don’t need my girlfriend to freeze to death—it’s going to ruin my reputation.”

Realisation hits you, again, like a ton of bricks right at the face. 

Oh. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, letting him do his thing. You look away, deciding to admire the surrounding golden trees. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself of how this whole ‘thing’ with Taesan is temporary—and having a personal heat packet isn’t too bad. 

Once the two of you reach the lecture hall together, people begin to clearly spectate. You pull your hand away from him, rushing to your usual seat. Taesan, his expression calm as he always is, walks over to his usual seat as well—directly behind you. 

Then, two minutes before the lecture starts, the person you truly hated comes into view, and decides to sit at the empty seat next to you. 

“Hi, Y/N,” your ex, Anton, greets you with the biggest smile on his face. You mentally sob—already dreading the three hours to come.

You turn away, scooting as far as you could. The memories rush like a flood you can’t stop—reminding you of the heart-tearing pain the boy sitting next to you caused. 

“Y/N? You alright? You look pale,” Anton says, probing further.

“It’s the weather,” you reply dully, your lips downturned. You unravel Taesan’s scarf from your neck, placing it on your lap. Your eyes fixed onto the lecture, you ignore Anton’s attempts to get you conversing with him. 

“Y/N, are you free after class?” Anton whispers, twenty minutes into the lecture. 

“No.” You give him a side glance.

“And you don’t even take IT,” you fake a smile, “so I don’t think you should even be here. With due respect, get lost, yeah?”

“I’m honoured,” Anton whispers back. The soft smile on his face makes you gag. “You still remember things about me.”

“Oh, please,” you grimace, anger beginning to bubble up inside of you. “I’d rather make out with Taesan than remember even the tiniest bit of–”

You suck in your breath sharply, your cheeks flushing at an alarming rate. You had blurted your words out too fast to even register the fact that you’re actually wearing the said person’s initials in a necklace ‘round your neck. 

“You’d rather what now, sweetheart?” 

Hearing Taesan’s voice, you can almost see his smug smirk decorating that annoyingly attractive face of his. 

Your eyes widen. 

I did not just admit that.

You turn to Taesan for a moment, flashing him a sheepish smile. You quickly spin back to face the lecture, forcing yourself to focus. 

After the lecture concluded, you find yourself stuck in a sticky situation—Anton just can’t let you go out. 

“Do you want to go and grab lunch together? It’s pretty late for lunch, and I know your stomach gets upset easily if you don’t eat,” you wince upon hearing his soft tone. 

You frown, hating the fact that Anton knows almost a lot of things about you. “No, Anton, I’m sure I said–”

“She said no, Lee, I’m sure even a stupid motherfucker can understand.”

Seeing Anton’s eyes almost pop out at the sight of Taesan next to you, you’re sure that you look the same. You turn sharply towards Taesan, who has his hand perfectly placed on your back. The look on his face is fierce and scary, like he’s about to completely destroy Anton exactly where he’s standing.  

“Han,” Anton addresses him curtly. “I didn’t know that you’re on… good terms with Y/N.”

You fidget with the charm on your décolletage, collecting every bit of energy you have to maintain a stoic expression. 

Taesan flashes a sly smirk, pride radiating from his eyes as the corners of Anton’s lips twitch. “Why? Is it important to you who I’m close to?”

“No, but given your history with Y/N—I don’t want her to get hurt,” Anton blathers, “so I’m gladly asking you to–”

“What? Fuck off?” Taesan scoffs. Your eyes bulge, somehow not expecting Taesan’s choice of words to be so vulgar. “I think that’s what you’re supposed to do, Lee.”

“Y/N,” Anton says, desperation vivid in his voice. He grabs your wrist, and you instinctively step back. “C’mon, let’s go. I know you don’t like this stupid asshole here–”

Before you could even act, Taesan steps in front of you, shoving Anton to the floor. The students who are still lingering around stop to look. You couldn’t hold in your gasp—Taesan looks extremely angry, you swear you could see fire in his eyes. 

A thought clicks into your head. 

Taesan is the it-boy, of course he’s good at acting.

You take a step back, weirded by the heavy feeling of disappointment that begins to cloud your heart as soon as you remember the arrangement. 

It’s just acting, Y/N. Get it together. 

“Don’t touch her, bastard,” you hear Taesan hiss before he turns to you. Anger still lingering around, you watch with silence as Taesan relaxes the tension in his jaw. In a mirroring silence, he gestures for you to follow him out. You nod.

As you turn on your heel, Anton calls out, visibly irritated. 

“Y/N,” he says, “what’s going on?”

You give him a mocking smile. You swing Taesan’s scarf around your neck. “I don’t think I owe you an explanation, Anton.”

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AS you and Taesan walk out of the lecture hall, you can’t ignore the heavy weight settling in your chest. It keeps replaying in your mind: the way Taesan stepped in, fiercely protective—it’s all an act, right? You sneak a glance at Taesan, but his face is unreadable, his jaw still slightly clenched from the encounter.

“Taesan… you didn’t have to do that,” you mumble, playing with the hem of his scarf.

Taesan exhales through his nose, his shoulders rising slightly. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he then adds under his breath, “fucking bastard.”

You blink, unintentionally slowing your steps. That’s… different from what you expected.

“Taesan,” you try again, but he shoves his hands into his pockets, picking up the pace.

You know you should just let it go, but the air between the two of you feels heavier than it was before. Was it just an act? Maybe it was—and that Taesan’s acting skills are as good as the rom-com actors—but something about the way he had looked at Anton; like he was seconds away from doing more than just shoving him to the ground. 

It feels too… real.

A sudden gust of wind cuts through your coat, making you shiver. Instantly, Taesan grabs your wrist and pulls you into a nearby convenience store.

“Sit,” he orders, disappearing for a moment. You watch him move through the aisles, confusion twisting in your chest. You take a seat exactly where he ordered you to, your head fuzzy from the mixture of confusing, unnamed emotions.

When he returns, he kneels slightly, pressing a warm drink and a heat pack into your hands, his fingers lingering just a second too long.

“You’re hopeless,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “First my scarf, now this.”

You gasp dramatically, rolling your eyes as your lips twitch, your heart knocking against your ribs. “You’re the one who keeps giving me things.”

Taesan just hums in response, his gaze locking onto yours. His usual unreadable expression softens, something almost unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Your grip tightens on the cup, trying to shake off the way your body reacts to his warmth. This whole thing with Taesan was supposed to be temporary. So why did it feel like something had changed?

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DONGMIN takes several deep breaths, his eyes shut. The jazz music plays in the background, and the buzz of the cafe calms him down. 

No wonder Y/N likes this place. 

Dongmin opens his eyes, finding himself staring at you ordering drinks and some food for the two of you. You had dragged him here as soon as you finished your drink at the convenience store, repeating that you needed to treat him to some food. Your voice rings in his head, telling him that he needed to follow you to the coffee shop, to cool off his steam. 

“Do you like apple pie?” you ask, setting a plate of two slices of said dessert, accompanied by two scoops of vanilla ice cream.

“Why do you even ask if you’ve already gotten it? Seems like my preference doesn’t matter,” Dongmin replies, putting on the usual smirk. 

Your eyes widen and he chuckles. 

“Well,” you huff, “I like apple pie—and it’s impossible to find someone who doesn’t.”

“Alright,” Dongmin laughs, and it hits. His laughter dies down as the realisation sinks in—watching you devour your slice of apple pie like it’s the only food you’ll eat until the end of time. 

Dongmin, as he puts a bite of his food into his mouth, realises how messed up he is. He realises how often a hearty laugh escapes him when he’s with you—how a flustered, frustrated mess you make him. 

“Why are you being nice to me?” Dongmin asks. He pokes his fork absentmindedly into the crust of the apple pie, second guessing his question the moment it leaves him. 

You and he had always, always been rivals—a pair that’s never meant to get along. He’d always find you muttering curses and throwing glares in his direction; and he’d always find himself trying his best to reciprocate your disdain for him. 

Dongmin does hate you, too. 

He hates how you’re so confident, so diligent, so talented. He despises how hard you work, how determined you are, how you seem to always effortlessly bring him down and defeat him in academics. He feels the most intense dislike for you—whenever you walk in the room, he feels like the world is about to explode, along with his sanity. 

Dongmin hates, with a burning passion, how he can’t stop himself from falling in love with you. He absolutely loathes the way you smile, the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, and the way you look at him—with such fiery determination that’s enough to knock him off his feet. He completely hates the way that he has to keep his tongue sharp, and his attitude insufferable, for you to give him a sliver of your attention. He perfectly hates the way it’s impossible for him to let you know that he doesn’t hate you, at all. 

Dongmin watches you open your mouth to reply, yet you don’t for a few moments. You return his gaze, uncertainty playing around in her eyes. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion. “We’re just eating apple pie, Taesan,” you laugh sheepishly. 

For the first time, Dongmin doesn’t have an immediate answer. He swallows the bite of apple pie in his mouth, unsure of what he should say next. His smirk fades and hesitation engulfs him.

You notice this, of course, and your frown deepens. Though, before you could do anything, Jaehyun—Dongmin’s friend, suddenly appears.

He greets Dongmin, patting his shoulder. “Yo, Taesan, long time no see! Wait–” he pauses, laying his eyes on you. “Wait, am I dreaming? You two? Sitting together? Laughing? Are pigs flying now?”

You immediately shake your head, laughing along with Jaehyun. Dongmin, on the other hand, is dazed. He stays silent, still unsure of what to say. He’s finding everything peculiar—the way he’s unable to say anything, the way that his heart is thumping loudly against his chest at the mention of you as his girlfriend. 

He watches you politely say goodbye to Jaehyun, gaining certainty with every beat of his heart. 

His little crush on you is resurfacing, after two years of pushing it down with faked hatred. 

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AFTER Jaehyun leaves, you let yourself sneak a glance at Taesan, who’s absentmindedly poking holes in his already destroyed pie crust, avoiding your gaze. You notice his oddly quiet state—the Taesan you know would never miss the chance to throw in a witty remark. 

You throw him a glare, slightly hoping it’d make him knock out of his trance. You set your fork down with an audible clink. “You’re being weird. I mean, you always are insufferably weird, but this is even weirder.”

Taesan scoffs, lifting his drink to his lips. “And you’re being annoying. Paranoid.”

You cross your arms, an annoyed grimace forming on your face. “Am I?”

Taesan holds your gaze for a moment too long, something flickering in his eyes before he looks away. “Maybe not.”

Oh.

You lean back, sighing dramatically. “Fine. I don’t get what you being weird has with me being paranoid, but yeah, I’m totally being paranoid. Definitely imagining things,” you scoff sarcastically.

Taesan hums in agreement. “You do that a lot.”

You choke on air. Glaring at Taesan, you retort, “you’re infuriating.”

“And yet, here you are, sharing dessert with me,” Taesan smirks, tilting his head. 

You pause, blinking profusely.

That… is a valid point. How did you even get here? You and Taesan are supposed to be rivals. Aren’t you supposed to hate each other?

Your stomach twists, and suddenly, you find it difficult to swallow your final bites of apple pie.

After moments of deafening silence, you say, your voice slightly wavering, “you’re unbelievably good at dodging questions, Taesan.”

You bring your drink to your lips, hoping that you sounded casual. 

Taesan looks up from his finished plate of apple pie, smirking as he leans back. “Oh, yeah? Have you ever considered that you’re too good at asking too many questions, and it’s insufferable?”

Your eyes widen slightly, flickering to the way that his eyes glare vaguely at you. “Maybe I am,” you admit quietly, “but you’re dodging the real ones.”

Taesan’s smirk falters a little bit, just for a second, and there’s something unrecognisable in his eyes. Something you can’t put a name on. 

Maybe a shift in the air. Maybe it’s just your imagination. Or maybe it’s because your heart is racing just a little too fast.

You’re so focused on trying to read Taesan’s expressions that you don’t notice the way your voice softens. “So… if this whole thing is an act, why do I keep feeling like you actually care?”

You mentally hit yourself. That isn’t what you meant to say—and it’s certainly not what you would say in front of Taesan.

Though, it’s out before you can stop yourself. The words hang in the air, heavy and uncertain.

Taesan freezes, his eyes widening with a vulnerability for a fraction of a second. Then, just as quickly as it came, his guard comes back up. “Like we’ve discussed before, it’s an act. Nothing more.”

His voice is stern and plain, and his expression is stoic, but you catch the tremble in his hand as he’s fiddling with his fork. 

That, somehow, doesn’t sit right with you. 

You learn forward, the pendant swinging against your décolletage, your expression more serious now. “Then why do you care so much?”

You watch him closely, catching the tightening in his jaw and the way his hand proceeds to rest on the table, fingers anxiously tapping against the wood. Taesan doesn’t answer immediately, and instead, he looks away to drift his gaze to the window.

Your chest suddenly tightens. He’s acting like this is nothing, but you certainly feel it—the crack in the walls you’ve both constructed carefully against each other. It’s a tug at the back of your mind, a repeating whisper you’ve been trying so hard to push away.

And yet, the silence between you feels louder than ever.

Minutes pass by and the silence gets louder and louder. You’re lost in your own thoughts—realising just how much you’re affected by Taesan; just how much more you’re feeling than you want to admit. In the silence, you’re wondering, are you just imagining all this? Maybe it’s just you, maybe it’s the fact that you’re finding something more from this fake relationship you have with Taesan, your nemesis. 

Though, there’s something that you can’t deny: the fact that your chest tightens with fluttering butterflies every time he gets too close, every time his words shift to something softer than usual, it’s something that makes your heart trip in your chest.

“Y/N,” Taesan calls, his voice softer than anticipated, and you’re pulled out of your train of thought. You look at him slowly, uncertain and afraid of what’s to come. He pauses, as if he’s unsure of what to say next. “What if… I told you I’m not sure if I can pretend much longer?” 

His gaze finally meets yours, and for a moment, there’s no mask—just the raw sincerity in his eyes.

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You open your mouth, trying to say something—but nothing comes out. The evident truth in his words hits you like an ocean wave on a sunny day, and you can’t help but feel something is shifting between you both.

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THE next few weeks pass by like a ridiculously large time-skip in a movie. You’re doing things like you usually do—attend classes, do mootings, send in assignments, study for exams. Though, there’s one big thing in your life that you can’t ignore—Taesan, your fake-dating arrangement, and the lingering, unspoken tension between the two of you. The first week after the coffee shop episode, you couldn’t sleep even a wink—your mind kept on replaying the scenes over and over again, the way you caught Taesan’s guard almost falling down. You’re sure you felt it too, the cracks in the walls you’ve built against him—even for a short moment. 

At school, you’re hyper aware and extra distracted by Taesan. He’s doing his part of the agreement well, acting like he agreed he would. Every glance from him feels like a load of unspoken words, and the air between you two feels heavy. Every day you ponder, unsure of what to do with the new, fragile tension that’s settled between you and Taesan.

Today is the same—everything passes in a blur of lectures, assignments, and studying. You drag your heavy footsteps out of the room, your head spinning at the thought of the many assignments waiting for you. You look up, and the moment you step into the hallway, you see Taesan leaning against the wall, phone in hand, looking as calm as ever. 

You walk near him, and your eyes meet—you see a flicker of something there—a tension, a question neither of you have the answer to. 

“Y/N,” Taesan greets you with a casual, unreadable smile. You pause in your steps, turning to face him.

“Hi,” you reply quite timidly. You’re trying to sound casual, but you can hear the slight hitch in your voice. There’s no pretending this isn’t different now. There’s no pretending you didn’t almost cross a line last time. 

Taesan takes a final glance at his phone before shoving it into his pocket. “Still pretending this is just an act?” he asks, his voice surprisingly soft but laced with something familiar, almost teasing.

You pause, your breath stuck in your throat. Your heart, yet again, skips a beat, and you try to brush it off by laughing nervously. “Me? Pretending? I’m not pretending,” you say, and it’s directed more towards yourself than to him.

You’re not sure who’s trying to convince who anymore.

Taesan looks taken aback. He blinks profusely before putting his usual, calm expression back on. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding, “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You watch him walk away, heart twisting in the weirdest way. 

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DONGMIN hates the way everything is now. Why can’t he just tell you everything? Why can’t he just tell you that he isn’t pretending, that he actually cares?

He wants to stop everything–going back to shoving insults at your face might be the safest option of them all. Yet, Dongmin finds himself caring for you in the little ways—wrapping his scarf around your neck, adjusting the placement of your bangs with a simple ruffle, placing a tin of coffee and bread in front of you whenever you seem exhausted with studying, sliding post-its to you with his handwriting reminding you to take breaks when needed. He still finds his heart racing upon seeing you; the way your lips pout when you’re deep in thought, the way you smile and laugh so adorably upon hearing a funny joke from your friends, the way you’re still so cute even when frustrated. 

As he walks away, Dongmin fights with his own heart. Why was he acting like this? It’s so clear that you’re expecting something more, but why is he pushing you away? 

Dongmin takes a deep breath. Yeah, he’s scared. He’s afraid that maybe it’s all in his head, maybe you’re the one acting so well and it’s just gotten to him. 

Dongmin swears to get himself together, but it looks like he’s going to need more than just mental affirmations. 

The next day, he misses his alarm, for the first time in forever, and is running late to his 9 AM lecture. He’s speed walking through students, dodging them with a bag hanging on one shoulder and his hair still partially wet. Just as he’s about to near the entrance of the Law building, he hears raised voices nearby. He puts his hood up, his first instinct is to ignore it all—he’s got no time to eavesdrop on people’s business. However, he recognises one of the two quarrelling voices—yours. 

Dongmin’s steps come to a halt, and he turns to face you. His eyes slightly widen and his shoulders begin to tense as he sees you and Anton standing a few feet away, locked in an argument. He’s a bit too far away to hear the full conversation, yet he catches some bits of it.

You’re standing at your full height, stiffly in front of Anton, arms crossed and eyes blazing with fury. Anton, on the opposite side of you, no longer has that sickening, innocent smile—instead, he’s flashing you a mocking smirk. 

The argument is already reaching its peak, yet Dongmin is quick to analyse the situation just by picking up a few bits. 

“You think you’re really something, don’t you?” Anton taunts.

You scoff. Dongmin could tell you’re offended, yet the mask you put on really makes a difference. “At least I don’t have to put other people down to feel important.”

Anton scoffs back, “please. You act like you’re above all this, but you’re just as desperate for attention as everyone else.”

Dongmin clenches his jaw, watching the argument unfold as his fingers begin to twitch. 

You give Anton a mocking laugh, stepping forward. “I don’t care what you think, Anton Lee. I don’t care if you think I don’t love Taesan, because what matters is my own feelings, not yours. And I’m done wasting my time on you.”

Before you could turn away and enter the building, Anton grabs your wrist. 

It’s not aggressive, but it’s enough. Enough to make Dongmin see red.

Everything’s a blur—one second later, he’s towering in front of Anton, his eyes glaring daggers. 

“Let her go,” his voice is low and threatening, as sharp as a blade. 

Anton looks up, initially startled, but as soon as he sees Dongmin, he rolls his eyes. His hand still around your wrist, he says with a sneer, “look who’s here, Y/N’s knight in shining armour! Oh, so great, always the hero.”

Dongmin is too busy counting down the ways he could destroy Anton’s life to be noticing how immediate the warmth creeps up your cheeks. Dongmin, in one fluid motion, steps closer, standing between you and Anton. 

“Did you hear me?” his voice drops deadly lower than before, his posture relaxed yet his eyes are dangerous. “Let. Go.”

Anton huffs, roughly letting go of your hand. He shakes his head. “You two are seriously something else,” he mutters before storming away. 

You and Dongmin stand next to each other, cautiously eyeing Anton until he disappears from sight. For that moment, none of you say anything.

“What was that for?” you say suddenly, crossing your arms. “I didn’t need you to step in.”

Dongmin shoves his hood down to his neck, raising his eyebrow. Feeling slightly irritated, he scorns. “Yeah? Looked like you were having a great time.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, but something pinches Dongmin’s heart as he notices there’s no real bite behind it. “I’m fine—I had it all handled.”

Silence. 

Dongmin exhales sharply, words shooting out of his mouth without second thought. “I know. It’s just–” 

He stops, his eyes landing on your wrist. Closes his mouth. 

You wait for a few moments, before warily asking. “What? Just what?”

Dongmin hesitates. Suddenly, it’s all he can push out of his throat. He’s already there, halfway crossing the line he’s put between you and him for the past two years. 

And then, it just… slips out. 

“I just can’t stand it, okay?”

Your frown deepens, confused. “Stand… what?”

Dongmin lets out a frustrated breath, turning sharply to completely face you. “I can’t stand seeing you with people like that fucking bastard. I can’t stand watching you get into these stupid situations. And I really, really can’t stand how much I—”

His eyes widen, and his words stumble upon a stop. Dongmin stammers, realising what he was just about to say. 

“Taesan,” you call, gently, hope suddenly shimmering in your eyes. “How much you what?”

Dongmin freezes. He’s silent, tongue frozen, unable to utter another word.

He can’t say it. 

Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, muttering curses under his breath. 

“You know what?” 

“Taesan–”

“Next time,” he says quickly, in a softer voice, “don’t… waste your time on a guy like him.”

Your eye contact is still intact, you open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Your eyes widen for a split second—as if you’re catching on to the feelings displayed, unknowingly, on Dongmin’s face. 

His concern is real.

“W-we should go,” you stammer instead, gesturing to the Law building. 

Dongmin nods. He grabs your backpack from you, signalling for you to walk in first. “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

You force yourself to walk as swiftly as possible to the lecture hall, heart pounding, mind racing. Behind you, Dongmin’s entire body is tense. He’s finally realising he can’t keep his feelings for you hidden forever.

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THE next day, you can’t stop thinking about Taesan—and whatever he was about to say to you. Your mind races with a million different thoughts throughout the day. What if he actually feels the same? What if you’re not the only one looking for something more in this fake arrangement?

However, given that exams are looming closer, you’re only given a short amount of time to dwell on your thoughts. After your last class of the day, you find yourself cooped up in the library, studying the rest of the day away. Several of your friends join you, too. 

The study group grows, joined by both your friends and Taesan’s—though, you didn’t even realise that Taesan is sitting across you the entire day, until everyone starts leaving one by one. 

By midnight, it’s only you and him. You don’t look up, but you can feel your heart thumping faster than usual. You’re hyper aware of your surroundings—how close he is, how his scent feels comforting yet intimidating, and how his presence is reminding you of something that you’re too afraid to admit. 

“Y/N,” you open your eyes to someone gently shaking your shoulder, the reality of things crashing onto you all at once. You lift your head up, realising that you fell asleep in the middle of reviewing a past paper. Your eyes meet with Taesan’s concerned gaze. 

His voice is low and soft, as if it’s only for you. “Let’s take a break. You’ve been snoozing off way too many times.”

Your heart is beating a little faster than usual, but you agree. Taesan’s request seems too casual, and he looks like he needs a break too. 

You follow his lead, walking a little bit behind him to the convenience store that’s still open in campus grounds. He’s silent, observing you and letting you pick anything you want before paying for both your things and his. 

“Go sit,” he says, holding your instant tteokbokki package in hand, along with his instant noodles. “I’ll heat these up.”

Taesan quickly moves to the microwave before you can say anything in retaliation, a sign that you take seriously. He’s not in the mood for any fights. 

You take a seat, and soon after, Taesan joins you. He puts your instant meal in front of you, breaking your chopsticks for you. 

“Here,” he says, his voice quiet. “Careful, the tteok is still hot.”

He then slips his coat around you before turning back to his own beverages. 

You find yourself staring at him, long after he’s handed you your things. You watch him, peacefully releasing his tension—running a hand through his hair, chugging down a cup of coffee. 

Everything around you looks like it has a blurred filter on, yet one thing is crystal clear: Taesan, and his evident care for you. The longer you stare at him, the more you realise.

He’s always been the one. He’s always been there. 

It hits you harder than any bad grade has ever done. 

Taesan has always been like this—quietly looking out for you, quietly caring for you. 

All this while, all the banter, the little arguments, moments, and glances—it’s not just rivalry. It’s not just the fact that he always finds a way to make you all grumbly and irritated. It’s not just the fact that, even back when you were with Anton, he’d always find a way to show his care for you. 

It’s not just the fact that you enjoy his company, even if he makes you feel like you want to bang your head against the wall. 

You like him. 

You like Han Taesan. 

You quickly turn your head away, blood rushing to your head as soon as the realisation hits you. You stuff a few bites of instant tteokbokki into your mouth, wanting to quickly get rid of whatever this warm, refreshing feeling is. 

“Can you stop looking at me like that, L/N?” 

You cough, shocked at how his sudden comment breaks through the almost comforting silence. All the past moments you’ve had with him—the banter, the insults, the arguments—run through your head as soon as your last name, what Taesan had always called you, reaches your ears.

“Like what?” emboldened by the awakening of your feelings, you retort, your tone more challenging than you intended. 

Taesan snaps, pushing his chair back, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. 

“Like I’m your fucking boyfriend.”

“What?” you’re confused, not expecting that out of his mouth. “What are you–”

“Like you’re waiting for me to say something that I know I can’t take back.”

“Say it, then.”

You say, challenging him. It feels sentimental—like the old days, where all you did when you met Taesan was throw taunting words at him. But at the same time, the words come out of your mouth without realising—daring the two of you to finally cross the line. 

“I like you, okay? I probably love you at this point, I don’t know. I don’t know when it started, but I do. And I—” He exhales sharply, his voice softer. “I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t.”

The world stops spinning and you stare at him, blank. 

Your tongue feels numb, your heart racing at a million miles per hour. 

You feel the same, you’re sure, but you don’t know how to respond. Do you smile and say it back? Do you tease him, calling him an idiot like you always do? 

“I didn’t mean to fall for you,” you catch Taesan muttering. 

You smile. “Me too,” you say softly. 

Taesan lifts his head immediately, sharply turning to you with widened eyes. “... pardon?”

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THE next few days feel like a refreshing spring breeze in the peak of winter, yet the air is filled with a cute awkwardness. After the confession, neither of you explicitly announce to one another that the two of you are a real couple now—yet your interactions feel new and unscripted, but no one exactly is making the first move. 

Of course, your friends notice before the two of you do. 

You’re sitting at the food hall together with Yunjin and Sophia, eating breakfast. You’re halfway through your pancakes, and Taesan—or Dongmin, as you call him now—suddenly takes a seat next to you. 

“Mind if I join, girls?” he asks, a charming grin on his face. He’s asking the table, yet his gaze is directed to you. You bite your lip shyly, nodding.  

“Sure, make yourself at home,” Yunjin says, her words laced with teasing. She watches with eagle eyes as Dongmin puts all of the sliced bananas from his serving of pancakes onto yours, knowing that you especially enjoy them with your breakfast pancakes. She snorts at the obvious look of love in Dongmin’s eyes, more evident now that he isn’t shoving insults at your face. “So, you two are really dating now?”

You choke on your bite of pancake, immediately blurting out,

“No!”

“Yes.”

You sharply turn to Dongmin, who has a smug look on his face. It’s the one look on his face that you’re used to, yet there’s a tint of pink on his cheeks. The edge of his smirk twitches, threatening to form into a cute, lovesick smile. 

“...I see,” Sophia interrupts your awkward eye contact, sighing dramatically. 

“We’re dating?” you ask Dongmin acutely, your brows connecting in an embarrassed frown. 

“I don’t know,” Dongmin shrugs casually, the look in his eyes teasing. “Are we?”

The blush that instantly creeps up your cheeks tells you the answer. You look away, suddenly focused on the way you’re cutting your pancakes. Dongmin’s laugh echoes to your left, and your friends’ send you teasing looks. 

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A few months later, on the first week back after winter break, you go on a walk around campus with your boyfriend, Han Dongmin. It feels weird, calling him yours now. Just almost half a year ago, you were fighting your ego to have your nemesis fake-date you in order to intimidate your ex into leaving you and your life alone. Now, that same thorn in your side has become the light of your life, the apple of your eye. Now, the two of you are in something that’s not written on a flimsy contract.

Dongmin had also helped clear out the rumours surrounding you—in the most annoying, Han Taesan way—announcing the truth about Anton by spreading it like a rumour to everyone. You still get second-hand embarrassment remembering that day, bombarded by questions and apologies from acquaintances and people you’ve only seen around. 

“You know,” you say dreamily, distracted by your train of thought, “you’re so annoying—but I love you.”

Dongmin freezes, his steps coming to an immediate halt. You, too, freeze in your steps as you realise you’re a few steps ahead of him now. You turn around, eyebrows perked up. “What’s wrong, Dongmin?”

Dongmin. 

The sound of your voice calling his birth name repeats in his mind, like a favourite song on loop. He stares, unable to say anything. His eyes fall on the pendant dangling from your neck, one that you started wearing due to the fake-dating arrangement. He remembered insisting that you take it off, so that he can buy you a new one later, but you said that it’s special so you won’t take it off. 

I love you. 

Dongmin feels a smile slowly bloom on his face. 

She said it. She didn’t even hesitate. It’s like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

His face softens, jogging up to you. He gives you a cheeky smile. 

“Say that again.”

You frown. “What again?”

“The first part.”

“What–” you pause, eyes widening as you get what he’s talking about. Heat rushes up your cheeks, warming your face despite Dongmin’s scarf wrapped around it. “I–”

“Yeah,” Dongmin says, smirking as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Me too.”

You bury yourself into the familiar scent of Dongmin’s scarf as he kisses your cheek. 

“Fuck you, Han Dongmin,” you grumble, ignoring the obvious butterflies in your stomach. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THAT weekend, you and Dongmin are eating lunch together at your favourite coffee shop. Dongmin had said that the vibes there makes him sleepy, and tried to bring you to eat at one of the more famous restaurants near the KOZ School of Engineering, yet the plan backfires on him when the line is certainly too long. 

Now, the two of you are back at your favourite coffee shop, sipping warm cinnamon lattes. 

“See?” you tease, smiling cheekily. “I told you this place is the best.”

Dongmin rolls his eyes, taking a big spoonful of the chocolate cinnamon roll on your plate. “I want to eat some real food, like kimchi jjigae, not these sweet chocolate desserts,” he complains, though he can’t hide the fact that he secretly loves it. 

“Yet you’re the one finishing my cinnamon roll,” you retort, letting him subconsciously finish your dessert. You’re familiar with his love for chocolate.

Dongmin flashes you an innocent smile, shrugging. “Not my fault.”

Comfortable silence engulfs the two of you, letting you bask in each other’s presence. Suddenly, Dongmin leans closer, adjusting the place of the H.D pendant on your décolletage. Frozen, you watch him lean back into his seat, smiling as he admires you. 

“You look good today,” he murmurs, “actually, you look good everyday.”

An undeniable tint of pink colours your face. “I’m literally wearing a black turtleneck sweater, Dongmin.”

His gaze softens. “Like the first time you sat next to me, three years ago, during our foundation year.”

Your eyes widen, your mind replaying the memory, fresh like it happened yesterday. “You… remember?” 

“Of course,” Dongmin replies, his smile delicate. 

“I even remember the day you walked up to me, confident and all. I thought you were going to brag to my face that you won first place for the quiz we had the day before, but then you told me to fake date you.”

You almost spit out the coffee from your mouth. “Han Dongmin!” you hiss. “Don’t remind me… it was so stupid.”

“Stupid?” Dongmin asks, tilting his head. The signature cocky smirk is back on his face. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah…” you sigh, “I mean, I could’ve resolved the matter by myself, you know–”

“But you know that I’m the best option,” Dongmin cuts you off, smug. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t think it’s stupid, though,” he continues, his expression softer. More… raw. “To be honest, I think I was ecstatic that you walked up to me that day.”

“Why?” you ask croakily. 

“‘Cause I’ve always liked you, Y/N. I always have. I just don’t understand where things went wrong—maybe it’s the way I thought teasing you would gain me your attention at first. It did. But then, you became used to my teasing and thought of me as a threat—maybe ‘cause I’m smart as hell, too—but yeah. I don’t know how to say it but, all of that hatred was… pretend.”

You blink at him, too shocked to process his words. You try to reply, but mere stuttering comes out, and your face turns bright red. 

Dongmin notices this, of course, and he turns on his shameless, impudent grin. “Besides, you said you’re going to grant me any wish that I have, right?”

Oh. 

You inhale sharply. How could you forget? You immediately bring out your phone, checking the balance in your bank account. It’s quite a luxury, due to you working a few part time jobs during your break and whenever you can—but you certainly don’t think it’s fit for whatever grand wish Dongmin is about to demand from you. 

“Fine,” you huff, “only because it’s part of our… old contract.”

“Old contract, huh?” Dongmin wheezes, already laughing hard. You frown, fighting back a smile. 

“Why are you always laughing whenever I speak, dumbass?”

“Hey,” Dongmin pauses his laughter, flicking your forehead gently. It doesn’t even hurt, but you gasp dramatically, and he laughs it off. “It’s babe for you, sweet girl. And, I’m not laughing at you. I’m just admiring how cute and funny you are.”

Babe, huh?

You snort, hiding a smile. “Fine.”

“Anyway, speaking of the old contract,” Dongmin grins, “what’s the new one, then?”

“You haven’t even told me what sort of dumb, overpriced thing you want for your wish,” you say, lips set in a grim line. “And now you want another one?”

“My wish, huh?”

The unreadable look on his face makes you brace yourself and your wallet.

“Then, my darling, this is my wish.”

Dongmin leans forward, brushing his lips against yours. It’s subtle, short and sweet, but significant enough for you to realise it all—the reality of your feelings and his. He lingers for a while before sitting back in his chair. 

“So,” he says coolly, ignoring the plain blush streaked across his face. “Can you grant me the wish? To kiss you anytime, and anywhere I want?”

“Basically, physical affection can be done anytime?” you say, quoting what this man in front of you said months ago, when both of you first agreed on the fake-dating situation. The whole absurd set-up that brought the two of you to where you are, today. 

Dongmin laughs, clearly impressed. “Yeah,” he nods. 

You give him a warm smile, glad that you’re finally able to follow your heart’s desires, and to not put up a wall of defense around him anymore. 

“Wish granted.”

― © htaesan, 2025.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀want more like this? check out the 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

[natalievoncatte]

“Wake up,” Lex snarled.

Kara’s eyelids were brutally heavy. She couldn’t force them open no matter how she tried, and everything sounded distant, as if she were listening from underwater. The loudest sound was the blood rushing in her own ears and the steady march of her pulse, like the distant rush of some animal moving across leaves.

“Whu?” she managed to choke out.

“Open. Your. Eyes.”

Kara finally managed to split them open, blinking away gummy eyelashes to take a blurred look around the room. She wasn’t sure where she was, only that they were underground. Her limbs felt leaden and her body ached. It was soon clear why.

The chunk of kryptonite in front of her glowed a paler green than normal. It was different somehow, hard to look at.

“What? What did you do?”

“I broadened my mind,” said Lex.

Kara managed to raise her head and look at him. He was stripped to the waist, a flabby early middle aged business executive, much softer than he would allow anyone to realize. He looked a little absurd, especially after all the effort he put into a public image of a physically fit, debonair, imposing man.”

“What is this?”

“That is a very special type of kryptonite. You wouldn’t believe what I had to give up to get it. It’ll be worth it in the end.”

“Where are we?”

“Oh this place,” Lex said, glancing around the stone walls, lit by flicker torches and glowing Edison lamps. “A castle, in Scotland. It was incredibly expensive, I assure you. The grounds are quite lovely, though you’ll never have a chance to see them.”

“Of course I won’t,” Kara rasped. “Can you finish your monologue without the dramatic pauses? I’m on the clock.”

Lex smirked at her.

“This castle was built on a conduit of energy- a ley line. Actually several, and they converge beneath our feet. That and the peculiar construction -sandwiched within these walls are layers of copper, cold-hammered silver, and pure selenium- make it perfect for my purposes.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Oh no no no,” Lex laughed, “not everything is about you, Supergirl. This is about Lena.”

Kara heard a muffled cry and looked around frantically.

“She’ll join us shortly,” said “Lex. I wasn’t finished.”

“You talk too much.”

“Oh indeed. You know, I’ve wondered what she sees in an alien freak like you. Why you’re so alluring to her. I’ve often wondered why you never made a move- I know you think about it. Fantasize about it.”

“Shut up,” said Kara.

“I’ve been watching, you know. Did you think I’d let you out of my sight?”

Lex walked to a table and began toying with a long dagger with a thin, blue-black blade, drawing the edge over his thumb with a wince. He let a thin bloppy stream of his blood trickle into a silver chalice on the table before staunching the bleeding with a towel.

He turned to Kara sharply, holding the dagger.

“Know what?”

“Your little secret? Or should I say, your big secret?”

“I haven’t told her.”

He stopped and regarded her with a smile.

“I don’t mean your real name, Kara,” Lex chuckled. “I mean the other secret, you moron. The one that made you switch from the skirt to pants.”

“What? No, of course not…”

“I know what you want to do with her,” Lex said, kneeling to look Kara in the eye as the heavy chains weighed her down.

“Fuck you,” Kara spat.

“Oh dear me no, I don’t play catcher. Anyway, as I was saying, I think I know what she sees in you. Turns out that rutting with inhuman monsters is in my half sister’s blood. On her mother’s side, obviously. Someone in the deep end of my dear sister’s gene pool interbred with one of the fair folk. The kindly ones. The fey.”

“The what?”

Lex lashed out with the knife and a hot red sting slashed Kara’s cheek. To her shock she felt blood running down her jawline and chin. Lex let it drop into the chalice, mingling with his own, then stood up.”

“Bring her!” he shouted. “Otis you oaf, bring her in.”

Kara’s attention snapped to the far end of the room. Otis Graves shoved Lena into the room. Kara knew it was her even with a black bag over her head. Lena was barefoot and bruised, her blazer and skirt torn from putting up a fight.

There was a thin chain of dark metal looped lazily around her neck.

“Once I learned about this, I did what I always do,” said Lex. “I decided to master my circumstances. I studied, I learned, I applied what I’d researched.”

He turned back to Kara, and as her vision cleared, she saw that Lex was drawn and haggard, thinner than she remembered.

“It took me almost two years to prepare this ritual. I have walked trails blazed by gods. I had to beg, borrow, and steal to piece together the forbidden lore I need. I even had to strike treaties with the pit.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” said Kara.

“Lex,” Lena panted through her mask. “Don’t do this. Let her go. Please.”

Lex barked out a sharp laugh. “Let her go? Come on, sis. That’s Kara’s line.”

Lena let out a sharp gasp, visibly tensing.

“Kara?”

“It’s me, Lee.”

“Lee?” said Lex. “You hate that nickname.”

“Not from her,” Lena said softly.

“Lena, I don’t know what crazy nonsense he’s talking but I will get us out of this. He has some kind of-“

Kara was cut off as Lex kicked her hard in the belly, driving the toe of his shoe up under her ribs. The world exploded in pain and Kara doubled over, almost retching in agony.

“As much as I’d like to spend the rest of the day making you feel pain, we’re on the clock. I have power to acquire, a world to master, and a deal with a devil to weasel out of.”

“Lex,” said Lena. “You didn’t.”

“I did. Promised my immortal soul upon death, but alas, I’m never going to die. Otis, get her in place.

Kara strained at her chains as the big oaf wrenched Lena around and bound her hands behind her back with ancient looking iron manacles.

“The iron keeps her from trying any tricks,” Lex explained.

Kara was tired of his bullshit. The only thing that mattered was Lena’s shocked cry of agony when Otis forced her to her knees on the stone floor, followed by the whimper as he yanked the bag from her head. Her right eye was swollen almost shut and she had a split lip.

Incandescent rage boiled in Kara’s chest with the fury of a newborn star. If not for the strange kryptonite sapping her powers, Otis Graves would burn, screaming in agony in the terrible wrath of a Kryptonian’s gaze.

He hurt her. He hurt her Lena.

“You know how this is going to end, Lex.”

He was leafing through the pages of a heavy book on his work table.

“Out, Otis.”

Graves withdrew, smirking at Lena. She turned to Kara, eyes soft with emotion.

“Not often we get kidnapped together.”

“I’d rather have had a movie night.”

“Ugh, can you two please save the tearful love confession? I’m gagging.”

“Why didn’t you ever ask me out?” said Lena.

“I’m stupid,” Kara sighed. “I thought about it. I was scared. I thought… I don’t know.”

Lex rolled his eyes. “Danvers, are you really going to pretend you didn’t know that my sister is a rug muncher? It’s the worst kept secret in the Luthor family history. Throwing her into a girl’s boarding school was like throwing a pig in shit, but then Mother has always been a dolt.”

Kara ground her teeth. “Don’t talk about Lena like that.”

“Or?” said Lex. “Alright, look. I’d love to spend a bit longer taunting you, but I’m busy. The forms have been observed. I monologue, we taunt each other, I kill you.”

“No,” said Kara. “You try and fail and I drag you to jail.”

“Not this time,” said Lex.

“No, not this time,” said Kara. “This time I break my biggest rule.”

Lena stared at her across the room, eyes wide.

“I’m not going to let him hurt you anymore.”

“How noble,” Lex deadpanned. “Hold still, sis.”

He grabbed her by the chin, dabbing a thin paintbrush in the chalice, and began to paint lines and sworls on Lena’s face in their mingled blood. When Lena tried to turn, her let go and backhanded her across the face. Lena almost fell to the floor and let out a pained yelp.

Kara pulled hard at the chains but the held fast. She felt like she was weighed down by an invisible force, unseen hands digging spectral fingers into her arms and legs.

“It’s interesting,” said Lex. “Everyone assumes you have one weakness- Kryptonite. But you’re just as vulnerable to magic as anyone else.”

“What?” said Kara. “You’re insane.”

“I don’t think he is,” Lena said, wincing at her split lip. “When I was a girl, there were rumors that my mother was a witch, and she did some… some things I didn’t understand.”

Lex smirked.

He propped the book open on his forearm, making a final study of the markings he’d drawn on Lena’s face.

“You know the most annoying part?” said Lex. “It’s that you can’t just do magic. The power source, as it were, has to come from somewhere. The most common place to get it is from ancestor fucking a dragon or a god damned fairy or some other absurd thing. I don’t have the spark. But she does.”

He looked at Lena, a feral, hungry glint in his eye, and began to chant, reading from the book.

Kara flinched. The words sounded wrong, twisting and turning unnaturally as they fell from Lex’s mouth. The air grew heavy, as if a coat of soot and oil fell over everything, and a hideous stink of rotten eggs filled the room.

Lena cried out, eyes flying open in shock. She tried to say something but choked.

Kara lunged, desperate to free herself, to break the chains, to reach Lena and spirit her to safety the way she always did, but she was helpless. A terrible certainty of her own death fell over her like an ebon cloak, and she felt a distinct certainty of things, other presences in the room just out of sight.

“Lex,” Lena pleaded, “Stop. Please. You’re hurting me.”

Kara let out a sharp snarl, a ripping sound of threat from deep in her chest.

Lex briefly broke his chant. “Yes, the ritual will most likely kill you. No great loss. The world has enough degenerates and alien-fuckers as it is.”

He resumed his chanting, and Kara felt a sudden wave of agony through her body. She tried to scream but no sound came. It was as if a giant’s hands had shoved into her chest and begun crushing her lungs from the inside. She fell boneless to the floor, writhing in pain.

Lena lay on her side, tears streaming from her eyes, tears that tinged pink with blood as she jerked and convulsed, teeth clenched.

And Lex… Lex changed.

There was a soft crack and the rhythm of his chanting changed. He grew taller before Kara’s eyes. His arms swelled, corded with new muscle as his paunchy belly flattened and tightened into a washboard.

“That’s right,” he snarled. “Soon it all be mine. All your beautiful power mine. I will be powered by the sun! Lex Luthor will fly faster than a speeding bullet, bend steel in his bare hands! I will be a god, and when I am I will finally lead humanity into its glory! My glory! Lex Luthor, the Man of Tomorrow! Invincible! Immortal!”

Kara could feel herself fading, the world irising shut as death stalked her from below, a hungry predator always waiting just beyond the edges of her gaze. Her hands were pale, the flesh drawn so tight to the bone that they seemed barely more than skeletal. Her hands actually slipped free of her manacles, but she might as well be buried beneath a mountain for all the good it did. She had no strength to move.

Yet she could speak.

“Lena,” Kara rasped out, “Lena!”

Lena forced her eyes open.

“You have to fight him.”

“I can’t,” said Lena, her face shattering into a mask of agony. “It hurts so much, and I’m too weak.”

“You are not weak!” Kara spat, with all her remaining strength. “You’re beautiful and powerful and… magical. You’re my Lena.”

“Kara,” Lena gasped.

“I love you.”

“Kara!”

“I love you, Lena. Please, I need you to know.”

“I know,” Lena choked out, pinching her eyes shut, tears of blood streaking her face as she clenched her jaw in tooth shattering pain. “Oh God I know, Kara. I love you too. I love you so much it hurts. I just wish we had more time. I…”

She went silent, and still. Kara stared at her for an awful endless moment of white hot pain as something ate her alive from the heart out, yet that pain paled next to the agony of watching Lena suffer. She was almost glad that death would take her first, but prayed to the god of a distant broken world that Lena wouldn’t have to see it. She felt a dim hope that somewhere past this, in fields beneath a crimson star there would be a place for them, that Rao would find a way to bring Lena home to Him, that He would not let her wander in the dark, forever lost.

Kara had fucking earned a little grace.

Then, Lena’s eyes shot open, ablaze with stunning, brilliant light. She wrenched from the floor with a sudden strength and arched her back, screaming.

Lex looked down at her as the iron manacles fell ruined from her wrists and she yanked the chain from her throat, her hands wreathed in otherworldly light as the links snapped.

Slowly she rose to her feet, eyes still blazing.

Lena screamed, a banshee wail that shook the walls around them, and her cry seemed to swallow Lex’s frantic chanting, opening vast shark-toothed jaws of music that gouged into his feeble warbling and bit down, devouring it.

He stumbled back, frantically turning pages in his book.

“Fuck you,” Lena snarled, and the words carried an intensity, a physical force just as Lex’s had, but where his sharp wrenching syllables turned the air somehow profane and tainted it with invisible filth, Lena’s burned, not as fire but as daylight burns, clear and bright to chase dark crawling things back into their hateful shadows.

With a soft cracking sound, the strange chunk of tainted kryptonite turned a dull gray.

It had become lead.

Kara planted her palms and pushed up to kneel. She could feel, see the vitality coming back to her. Her frame expanded from skeletal and deathly thin to its normal self, slabs of lithe muscle bunching beneath her colors and crest as she stood and watched Lex shrinking.

Lena sagged, suddenly winded, grabbing the table for support.

Lex silent and stunned, wasted no opportunity. He snatched the dagger from where it lay and raised it high to slam down into Lena’s back.

It clattered to the floor instead as Kara effortlessly grabbed his wrist, feeling her thumb drive between the bones of his forearm.

“I,” Kara said, “am tired of you hurting us.”

So she hurt him.

Lex screamed in agony as Kara closed her hand, pulling every bone in his forearm. She reached out and seized his throat, savoring the hate and terror in his eyes as red sun fire blazed in her own, savage loathing kindling a blaze in her chest. This ended now.

A soft hand fell on her shoulder.

“Kara,” said Lena. “Don’t.”

“Lena,” she rasped.

“Not for him. For you. He made his own grave. Let him lie in it.”

Kara turned and looked at her. There was still blood on her face- the mingled painted lines smeared with her own. She looked so small and fragile and soft and the furnace that burned in Kara was doused, and suddenly nothing mattered but making her safe.

Kara let the sniveling coward go and brought Lena into her embrace, sheltering her with all her might.

“We have to go. Now. Trust me.”

“Yes,” Lex gasped, “time to leave, take me to jail now.”

Kara looked down. Lena’s eyes hardened.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Kara raised her foot and brought out down, snapping Lex’s ankle in a single sharp motion. He screamed and collapsed, crawling for the door.

Kara heaved Lena into a bridal carry and walked past him.

“Supergirl!” Lex bellowed, “you can’t leave me here! You don’t know what’s coming.”

“I don’t care,” said Kara.

She shoved the door open with her foot, then turned to close it the same way. Lena clung to her, arms around her neck.

“Lock him in.”

Kara did more than that. A quick flicker of heat vision welded the heavy metal door closed. Lex screamed and pleaded from the other side.

Something was coming. Something ancient.

“Please. Get us out of here,” said Lena.

A crimson light blazed behind the door, bleeding through its edges. The stink of rotten eggs filled the corridor. Kara turned and carried Lena away.

“Wait!” Lex called. “Supergirl! You can’t leave me here!”

Kara ignored him and kept walking.

“No,” Lex was screaming, “no, wait, we can make another deal, a trade, there has to be something I can-“

“You tried to trick me,” something said in a voice like a hot knife dragged across a tombstone.

“What is that?” Kara whispered.

“I don’t know and I don’t want to,” said Lena. “Get us out of here. Take me home, Kara.”

Kara touched a soft kiss to her forehead, a promise of more and deeper to come. Once they were outside, Kara used the comm bead in her ear, and called Alex, told her what happened.

“Let’s go home, baby,” said Kara.

A year later, she flew back to the castle.

It was secluded, somehow forgotten, a tumbledown ruin. Heart thudding in her chest with uncharacteristic fear, she walked down the corridor into the underground and slammed the door open with her first.

No remains. No body. There was only one sign that Lex had been there at all. Scratches across the store floor, one with a fingernail still stuck in it.

As if he had been dragged.

Kara rocketed outside at supersonic speed, desperate to feel the sun and cleanse the oily, tainted feeling in that room. A cold, lingering dread welled inside her, twisting deep in her belly.

She had to be sure.

Part of her regretted what she did to the old ruin. It was history. Only part of her.

The rest of her flew fifth thousand feet up and came straight back down fast enough to destroy the stonework in massive shockwave that dug a crater where the building had stood seconds before. She then turned her heat vision on it, burning and melting. By the time she was done, by the time it no longer felt like she was being watched, as if she might be followed, there was nothing left but a smoldering, glassy crater. It looked like someone had dropped an atomic bomb.

It still felt like something slithered beneath, but whatever it was, it would not follow and that was all that mattered.

Kara flew. She had places to be. She’d already planned a date night with Lena.

Alex was watching their baby.

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 13 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: If you don't make up soon, things will either escalate or stay that way forever. Which one would be worse?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/gore/death, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation and low self-esteem, mentions of sexual activities, loss of identity, mentions of pregnancy, threatening, mentions and threats of suicide and self-harm, (rough) oral sex, penetration, breeding kink, degradation kink, not beta-read, if I've missed any warnings or tags please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

It started off small.

The tension in his jaw. The clench of his fists. The way he lingered in rooms he had no reason to be in, as if expecting you to finally give in.

But you didn’t. And then his evil twin took over again. Just like that.

Your books went missing. From one day to the other, you woke up and when you stepped into the warmly-lit living room, you immediately realized it. The shelf was empty. He didn’t leave you a single one.

That same night, when you made your way back to your room in order to cry and weep yourself to sleep, you realized something else was missing. Your blanket had disappeared. The radiator was turned off. And when you tried to turn it back on, it stayed cold.

Eventually, the meal portions became smaller. For each meal, the plate stayed the same size, but it got emptier. In the end, it was hardly enough to feel full. Just enough to pick at it and feel incredibly sad.

And why?

Because he wanted a reaction. A word, a glance, a single sign that you were still there. That nothing had changed, that you still belonged to him. But for once in your life, you were being stubborn,  far too stubborn. The moment you realized he would punish you anyway, even if you did things the right way (you didn’t try to escape), you gave up. You gave him up. Gave up whatever it was between you two. Because there was one thing you wanted even more than him.

An apology.

Not your freedom. Not even your goddamn hair.

You wanted an apology.

You knew how incredibly stupid it was to assume he would ever break the façade of cold and ruthlessness, even if it was for you. And after all, he had done his best, hadn’t he? In his eyes, sure. He had.

He hadn’t apologized with words, of course. That was sheer impossible. But you saw it in his actions. The soft touches, the lingering glances. The hesitation in his grip. And the softness in his eyes.

The way he stood in the doorway of your room, night after night, watching and waiting. Brooding. Hoping, maybe.

At first, he tried to play along and approach the situation nicely. You’d wake up and find something sweet on your nightstand. A book even. Back when you told him what your favorite book was, he went and bought it. A hardcover book and what was even worse, an old one. Original cover, worn out pages. It smelled like an old bookstore. It smelled familiar. Like the only home you knew. Words. Phrases. Imaginary worlds.

The moment your eyes registered the title, you felt a sinking feeling in your chest.

Wuthering Heights.

You loved it especially, because, during the course of your twisted childhood, it allowed you some closure. It made your terrible home of Yorkshire feel like more of a home. The thought of Catherine Earnshaw running around the moors, Heathcliff yearning for her, their combined pain and their longing – it turned the battleground of your childhood into something beautiful, something romantic. Like your tragedy wasn’t the only that took place there. It was the birth of something beautifully sad.

At some point, you had told him about it. The meaning the book held to you and how you loved old book stores. Second hand pages and the smell of words.

Of course he remembered it. He was always considerate like that. And back in the day, when you found that beautiful book on your nightstand, covered in dark blue and the title in an innocent white, you almost broke the spell. You almost found yourself running back to him, forgiving him, being his girl.

How could you not? It was obvious that he felt something for you, wasn’t it? Even if he would have rather died than ever admitted to that.

But you stayed strong, for that one time in your life. You stayed true to yourself and the promise not to give in first. Let him feel that he hurt you. Let him feel that he broke your heart, just after he brought you back to life.

You stayed stern. Ignored him during every meal, even though you felt his gaze on you.

The blister stayed firmly in place as well. After you had woken up that one morning and found it on your nightstand, you first reaction had been to feel fear of course. You had almost forgotten about that. You still didn’t know what had occupied your mind to make you do that. What devil had possessed you to stop taking the pill?

He had been so loving at times, so gentle. Maybe it was that. You had felt too safe in his embrace. You didn’t want to ever leave it. And after all, he left you the choice of taking it, right? So, you stopped. Four days you took it and after endless, heated arguments with yourself in your head, you stopped.

Try and live for once.

Maybe something good will come of this, after all.

But then he locked you away. Cut your hair. He didn’t believe you. And suddenly, everything was different. He didn’t speak first. And, God, you wouldn’t be the first to speak, either. If he took every inch of your hair, if he took every last bit of you. You wouldn’t give in. Not you. Not this time.

Of course you missed him. Dearly. You spent your days longing and your nights yearning.

Catherine and Heathcliff.

But you had managed a lifetime without a gentle caress before. Why would you budge now, just because you knew it now?

 Eventually he got impatient. And he took the books. The blanket, the food. The warmth. He took your comfort and all the love you felt for him. You felt the loss of his touch, of his love, like a physical reaction in your body. Something was missing. And despite your anger and your resentment, despite the disappointment and the sadness you felt, there was a part of you that wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him, rest your head on his lap and have him read to in this painfully soft voice of his, that made you feel like you were home.

You knew he didn’t do it as a punishment. He wanted a reaction. A cry, a yell, an angry word, a fight even. Everything was better than this silence.

The silence was a living, breathing thing, that took up all the space in the apartment and pressed down onto your chest, hard enough to suffocate you. And to your immense satisfaction, he seemed to feel the same way. Until, finally, he snapped.

You sat hunched over your ridiculously tiny amount of rice and a small broccoli rose. Your stomach grumbled loudly and you knew this wasn’t going to help. But you sat in silence nonetheless and tried to savor every bite.

He stood at the counter and stared down at it, his hands gripping the edge tightly. And eventually, the silence broke.

You heard the crash before you saw it – his plate, shattered against the kitchen wall. You flinched and cowered, digging your nails into your palms painfully. But you still didn’t look at him. Until his voice cut through the silence in a low growl.

“Enough.”

It was enough to make you glance up, slowly and almost carefully. It was the first time that you looked at him in weeks. You had played this game for weeks. And now it was him who lost it.

“Say something.”

You were tempted to. But you stayed strong.

You took in his appearance, the way he looked like he hadn’t slept in a while. His eyes were bloodshot and his charming smile formed into a scowl. You suddenly realized, despite it all, you felt bad for him. You didn’t want him to suffer.

Behind that whole horrible mask, there was something human inside him. Someone who felt pain and who had been through a lot. Someone who had been betrayed and hurt, by the person who was supposed to protect him.

Just like you.

Someone who cared about you, in his own twisted way.

And yet you stayed stubborn.

“Say something!” He growled again and took a step closer to you. He was angry, you could tell as much, but he was also frustrated. Behind the fury in his eyes, there was also a hint of desperation. More than a hint, a whole lot, actually. Despite the growl which was tinged in anger, you heard the softness of a plea between his words.

You opened your mouth and closed it again. Then you slowly unclenched your fists and looked down at the plate in front of you. He would never apologize. Because to do so, he would have to admit that he did something wrong. And he was far too proud for that. He was too full of himself. Also, he preferred getting angry for no reason. Apologizing wasn’t really his cup of tea.

You stayed silent and it tore at his soul. And hurting him hurt you.

When you still didn’t answer, he huffed in frustration and took another step closer. His stance was menacing and threatening. Even though you hadn’t felt the pain he could inflict on you in a few weeks now, your body remembered. It was hard to forget how the humiliation seeped into your bones like a cold, how his fist felt, whenever it connected with your body. The sound of the countless slaps to your cheek, which were echoing through the halls. The sound of your quiet despair.

He gritted his teeth and you knew, you were about to get reminded of it. Somehow you didn’t even expect it. It was almost like he had forgotten how touching you worked. After all, it had been a while. His movements seemed somewhat uncalculated. He reached out his hand above his head, but before he could land the first blow, he froze at the sound of your voice.

“I want to leave.”

Your voice was soft and gentle, small and timid, yet determined. It was such a contrast to his own anger. When he heard it, he stopped immediately. A part of him seemed relieved, like he hadn’t expected you to ever speak again. He seemed to savor the sound of your voice in his head. But by the time his brain registered your words, he frowned and slowly lowered his hand.

“What?”

You nodded and slowly looked up at him again. “I want to go. I want you to let me go. I want to go home.”

He scoffed. “This is your home.”

You shook your head. “I want to leave.” You said in the same, soft voice.

His frown deepened. “There’s no such thing. You knew the deal, when you accepted it. You belong to me. You’re not going anywhere.”

You took in the way he didn’t even look angry. Just frustrated and so very confused.

“I knew the deal. But I don’t want to stay.” You took a deep breath. “I don’t feel safe with you.”

Something flashed in his eyes, something that was equally dark as it was hurt. He hadn’t expected that. He had expected you to fight him or give in eventually, not for you to demand him to let you go. What a silly thing to hope for, right? But it was the only thing you could do.

“You don’t feel safe with me?” He all but spat out. He was disguising his pain very well behind a stony mask of anger and disgust. But you had known him for quite some time now and you slowly grew to lean the different masks and what he hid behind them.

“No, I don’t.” You said quietly. “I did everything right and I still got punished.”

He scoffed. “You tried to leave!”

“No, I didn’t!”

He gritted his teeth and eyed you up and down in a way that left you unsure how to feel.

“Yes, you did.” He spat out. “I had to kill that old bastard, because of what you did.”

His words made you flinch. “You had to?” The disbelief in your voice quickly turned back into anger. He couldn’t mean this. “You looked pretty content doing it!”

“What do you want to hear?” He hissed. “That I made a mistake? I didn’t. You made a mistake.”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down, but failed miserably. “I had the chance to leave. I even considered it. But I decided against it and I know that you know that!”

He clenched and unclenched his fists the whole time and you suddenly realized how lucky you were, that he hadn’t fully snapped yet. You were sure, by the end of the day you’d end up either dead or with some bone in your body broken. But so far, he did really well in his attempts to stay calm.

It was a dead end. He wouldn’t give in and the only way you could go back to oblivious co-existence was, if you gave in. But you still stood your ground and you realized just how good it felt.

“I saw you there. You stood right in front of the door. You looked at him and spoke to him, instead of- Instead of calling me and-“

That was the moment you realized something. Something that felt like a bucket of ice water on your head. Your heart squeezed tightly in your chest and the sinking, painful feeling of disappointment left you nearly breathless.

“You knew that I didn’t try to leave.”

The words were barely audible. You might as well have thought them in your head, but no. He heard you. You could tell by the way he stiffened and couldn’t meet your eyes.

“Oh my God!”

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous!” He growled and suddenly he looked very determined. But his eyes told another story. “You tried to leave!”

“Oh my God!” You jumped up and glared at him with every ounce of anger you could find in yourself. “Why the Hell did you cut my hair then?!”

He pointed his index finger at you. “Because you deceived me.”

You ignored his words, too caught up in a haze of disbelief and fury. “Why did you ignore me all this time?” You nearly asked yourself that. “And the fucking pill?! What business did you have placing it there, while I was asleep? You knew I didn’t do anything wrong! That’s why you hesitated! That’s why you were suddenly so nice to me!”

“Shut your fucking mouth or I will shut it for you!”

“What did you punish me for then?!” You felt angry tears sting your eyes as you took a step closer to him. The part of you that longed for him still did. You hadn’t felt him so close to you in weeks. The warmth of his skin, the faint smell of his cologne surrounded you like a warm hug.

“You nearly killed me!” You snapped at him, very unlike yourself. Your sense of self-preservation was suddenly near-dead. All you wanted was for him to answer your question. “Why?!”

His expression was the same mix of frustration and anger. But his anger became more and more apparent. You knew he wouldn’t need much more and he would explode. Would he break your nose? Would he squash your kidney? Or would he finally finish what he started that day and choke you to death?

“One more word.” He hissed as he towered over you, ready to strike.

He hadn’t hit you yet. He wasn’t even yelling. He was just…

Was he just…

“Oh my God.” Your voice was barely audible, just a small whisper, hardly to be heard under the sound of his heavy breathing. “Oh my God, you didn’t punish me, because I tried to leave.”

He frowned and shook his head. “What are you fantasizing about now? What are you cooking up in your-“

“You did it, because of what I said to you.”

The second you realized it was the same second your anger suddenly vanished. You were obviously still angry. Mostly so, because he ignored you for so long, without really ignoring you. But you weren’t furious anymore. You were more…curious. Disappointed. And sad.

But the second you said it, you saw a brief flash of something in his eyes. You couldn’t quite tell what it was. You had seen that in him once or twice. But it always left as quickly as it came. And suddenly you were certain.

“You punished me, because of what I said to you.” You said firmly.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

He scoffed. “Stop being an idiot. Stop acting like anything you could say to me would ever be enough to influence my actions. You’re nothing! I told you that! You’re-“

“Then let me go.”

He stopped and regarded you with a frown. But he was slightly calmer now, all the while you sounded almost panicked.

If he did all these vile things to you, when you were no more than a stranger to him…

What would he do to you, if you were more than that?

If he was comfortable around you?

And why on earth were you allowing it?

It was like someone suddenly pulled up a curtain in the fog that was your brain and you realized, something was wrong.

You had had no chance to escape your mother. After all, you had been no more than a child and she was your mother. Nowhere to flee and no one to rescue you. You spent your life begging and pleading and hoping to find a way to finally break free.

But this.

This.

You were letting it happen. It was you.

You were allowing this. You knew what he was doing to you and you still let him. You let him touch and kiss you and even take you.

Your first time had been with the same man, who slapped the living hell out of you. Who punched your gut and left you tied to the bed, your bladder ready to explode in pain and humiliation. The man who called you vile names. The man who committed heinous crimes on you. On your body and mind.

What were you doing?

What, for God’s sake, were you doing?

Your eyes widened impossibly and you backed away against the counter.

“I don’t want this.” You gasped out. “I don’t want any of this. I want to go home. Let me go home.”

His frown deepened. You suddenly realized, you had no idea who he was.

“Why are you suddenly…”

You saw yourself. Years from now. Tied to a bed, your body bruised and battered. Maybe there was a child on the way. Maybe you already had one. Or three. Or seven. Who could tell? Maybe you’d make a perfect baby machine. He wouldn’t let you go to the hospital to have your poor, little bastard children. No, he’d make you bear them alone, with no one to assist you but him.

And the children?

God, the children.

What would they have to go through? What kind of miserable life was right there, waiting for them to endure it? You were sure, your mother would probably look like a saint compared to him.

Years and years and years. No one ever got to go out. All they would know would be this place. They wouldn’t ever understand that there was a whole world outside, for them to explore. With kindness, with love. In a way where people’s motivation was positivity rather than fear. Where peace ruled and love didn’t equal pain.

You couldn’t do this, you suddenly realized.

You just couldn’t.

It didn’t take you longer than two seconds to reach for the block. He had stopped being careful around you approximately by the time you allowed him to use you as he pleased.

You forgot the way his lips felt on yours, the second your fingers curled around the handle of the knife.

His eyes shot open and he rushed forward, ready to beat you to it. He wouldn’t let you stab him, no matter how careful he was.

Silly man.

That wasn’t your intention.

You took a step to the side, your back pressed against the wall and raised your hand. The cold metal felt uncomfortable against your neck. The feeling was unwanted and unwelcome, but if it was indeed your only out, oh God, you would take it.

He froze in his tracks and his eyes widened to a nearly ridiculous degree. He stared at you like you were an alien and slowly held up his hands in a gesture that came close to surrender.

“What are you doing?” He asked in a soft voice. “Give me the knife.”

Your eyes were equally as wide as you stared up at him, the blade tightly pressed against your jugular.

It was funny, really. You remembered at least one time when it was him who did the exact same thing to you. But back then, he didn’t look as horrified. Instead, his brows were furrowed and his eyes half-lidded in pleasure. But now, he looked straight-up terrified.

“Let me go.” You whispered. “I want to go.”

“Darling.” He whispered back and took the tiniest step closer. When you pressed the blade even harder against your skin, he immediately stopped and raised his hands a bit.

“Okay.” He whispered. “Okay. I get it. You’re angry. I understand that. But-“

„I’m not angry!” You felt tears running down your cheeks. You had been here far too long.

“Okay. Whatever it is that you are, please listen to me. Give me the knife.”

“Why do you care?” You hissed. “After all, it was you who almost killed me!”

He took a slow breath and nodded. “I know. But I didn’t, did I?”

“No.” You gritted out. “And why not? What stopped you? What did I say to you, that made you stop?”

He frowned. He was getting impatient, you could tell. “Set the fucking knife down, do you hear me? You don’t make the rules around here.”

But you weren’t trying to get the upper hand. You weren’t even trying to prove any point. Not anymore. All that you wanted was some clarity.

What was going on inside your head?

You choked out a sob and with a shaky hand, pressed the blade harder against your skin, hard enough to draw blood.

“No!” He rushed forward, ready to yank the knife away and shake you back to your senses.

You huffed furiously and took another step away from him, shooting a glare his way.

“Let me go.” You demanded firmly.

“I can’t!” You didn’t expect the way his voice suddenly cracked. It happened so fast and was so unlike him, that your brain hardly registered it.

His gaze was fixed on the small droplet of blood that was trickling down your throat, but you hardly felt the pain. Your chest heaved rapidly and you took a deep, slow breath.

You had to get your answers. You had to get out. Or you had to die. It was the only outcome.

“I…”

You looked at him, your expression trying to gauge what he was thinking. Was he getting angry? Impatient? Was he having violent thoughts? Was he more than ready to make you pay for this?

But his expression was soft. Almost pleading. And you suddenly realized, it was not a trick.

“Please.” He said so quietly that you nearly missed it. “Just stop.”

Please?

Your breath caught in your throat, when you heard the desperation in his soft voice. His bloodshot eyes were so wide and terrified, it was unlike anything you had ever seen in him. He looked so helpless that you nearly pitied him. This wasn’t the same man. It couldn’t be. What had changed?

The only thing that could be heard were your breaths mingling in the cramped space of the kitchen. He kept stalking closer and closer, until your chest nearly touched his. And this time, you didn’t back away. He didn’t seem like a threat for once. He seemed…broken.

“You’re right.” He suddenly whispered. You felt his breath tickle your skin and everything else seemed to fade away. Nothing mattered anymore. Your body longed for him. Yearned for him.

“You’re right. I knew you didn’t try to leave. I always knew.” He whispered and reached out a hand. It hovered above yours, you felt its warmth even through the air. Just a few inches and he’d get you. But you didn’t care about the knife. All you cared about was his hand, gently wrapping around your own. The moment his palm brushed over the back of your hand, you were done for.

You were weak.

The curtain fell back into place.

And the fog, it was heavier than ever.

He held your hand with such gentleness and care, that you hardly even understood what he was doing, until he did it. What he was saying.

To what he just admitted.

“When I saw you standing there…That man right there, ready to take you away.” He swallowed and shook his head, all the while his fingers gently moved yours out of place and he finally wrapped them around the handle of the knife. “It didn’t matter to me if you tried to leave or not. All that I saw was that…You were nearly gone.” He breathed.

The knife fell to the floor with a loud thud. He then kicked it away until it bumped against the opposite wall.

“All that I saw were you. Gone. And God, I…God, I…” His voice was barely more than a breath. And his lips were so close to your own, that you could almost taste them.

His brows furrowed and he used the same hand to gently cup your cheek in his hand.

“You can’t leave me. I can’t let you go. I can’t lose…” He stopped himself.

It took you weeks, tears and anger to realize. He wasn’t angry.

He was afraid.

“Why not?” You whispered breathlessly.

He bit his lip. “Stop this.” He hissed. “I know what you’re trying to do here.”

You slowly shook your head, your gaze fixed on his eyes. “Why not?” You whispered again. You leaned even closer and now it was you who initiated the contact. The moment you felt his body pressed against yours, you were done for. You had spent so many hours craving and dying to feel him again, asking yourself why, what did I do wrong? And now he was here and he was so desperate and God, you were, too.

You never actually wanted to leave anyway, did you? It was just your way of provoking a reaction.

That was what you told yourself.

“Tell me why not.”

He opened his mouth and hid his feelings behind a deep frown. He was obviously still very deep in the game of denial. And you weren’t going to be the one to pressure him. After all, he had his own things going on. You didn’t understand them, but you knew they were there. So, instead of waiting for his answer, you tilted your head up and brushed your lips over his. The touch was barely there, it was so soft and subtle that your body hardly recognized it as a kiss. But when you kissed, he made the most desperate sound you had ever heard. His eyelids fluttered and he dipped his head forward. Craving.

He was your Heathcliff.

He was your desire, your love and your tragedy.

He was all the bad there was in the world, when you live in a world full of darkness. But within the dark, he was also the light that painted the apricot walls of the halls you found yourself in into a warm white. Into all the good in the world. Into a world of warmth.

Warm. Good. Perfect.

A soft shiver ran down your spine when you felt him press against you, desperate for more. But you wouldn’t, you couldn’t, give it to him. Not yet. Despite the way your body craved his touch, you found yourself pulling back ever so slightly.

A strangled sound grumbled in his chest, like he was moments away from having his way with you, any way you could imagine.

But to your great surprise, he didn’t. He didn’t force anything on you, despite his frustration. His need was so apparent, you felt it in the way he breathed and you saw it in the way his eyes bore into yours. But he held himself back.

All for you.

“I didn’t try to leave.” You whispered. It was the one thing that was still between you, quiet and brooding, but oh-so obvious. He had hurt you. He had hurt you far worse than he had so far. Not because of the hair you lost, not because of the way he almost strangled the life out of you.

You had expected these.

But what you didn’t expect was for him to ignore you and make you feel like you did something wrong, when you didn’t.

“I know.” He said after a while. He sighed deeply and gently pressed his palms against your hips, holding you in a tight, near-bruising grip. His fingers dug into your flesh with an intensity that quickly reminded you of how much he needed you. It wasn’t like you were deliberately trying to tease him. You just needed…

“Forgive me.”

Your head jerked up and you stared at him speechlessly.

“You…You’re saying…”

“It was my fault.” He said very quietly. “And I’m sorry.”

Your heart nearly burst in your chest as you stared up at him. You couldn’t tell how sincere he was being. But then again, would he really say that, if he didn’t mean?

Would he say that at all? To anyone else? Ever?

You inhaled shakily and parted your lips in order to make any sound, but there was nothing. Your head was empty. All that there was, was him.

He leaned forward and pressed you against the wall behind you with the weight of his body against yours. His head dipped forward and his lips grazed your earlobe as he spoke.

“Can you forgive me, my sweet girl?” He whispered.

Your eyelids instinctively fluttered shut, when his breath tickled the sensitive skin of your ear. A hard shiver shook your body and you bit your lip to keep yourself from making any more sinful sounds.

“I…Yes.” You whispered back. “Yes, of course.”

He hummed softly and slowly ran his hand along your back, up your shoulders, until his fingertips carefully ran up the side of your neck. He felt the drop of blood on your skin and released a low growl.

“No one gets to hurt you”, he gritted out, “no one, but me. The rule applies to you, too.”

Your eyes stayed shut and you inhaled softly, when his fingertips slowly ran along the small wound. You had almost forgotten about that.

“I don’t know, if I should punish you for misbehaving…or take good care of you, because my darling girl is hurt.”

Your chest heaved rapidly and it only ever got worse, when his hand slowly wandered down along your chest. His hand was flatly pressed against it, like he was feeling your heartbeat. Which seemed to be exactly what he was doing.

“Your heart is racing.” He whispered. “Are you nervous?”

You nodded breathlessly. It had been a while since he last touched you. You had lived in the memory, of course. A few times even more so than you dared to admit. You weren’t normally an overly sexual person (or at least you thought so.) But the nights without him got harder and colder, so that you caught yourself a few times, with your mind on him and your hand wandering down your body.

Pathetic, you thought. But you couldn’t help yourself.

“I missed you.” You whispered, before you could stop yourself.

Of course you expected a satisfied smirk or even that he made fun of you in some way. But instead of being condescending, he hummed softly and breathed another kiss against your lips.

“Show me how much.”

You bit your lip in thoughtful hesitation. A part of you was nearly there, ready to ask How?

But another part of you, a part that you only ever had gotten to know after you met him…That part wanted to be daring.

And wicked.

And even fucking naughty.

You took a shaky breath and leaned in, meeting his lips halfway. This time, he didn’t give you the opportunity to back out. His mouth dominated yours in a deep, desperate kiss. His tongue forced your mouth open and began exploring the warmth of it, meeting yours in a wicked dance.

The moan that reached your ears was enough to make your legs go weak and the fabric of your underwear grow damp.

Slowly and tentatively you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Closer.

Your leg around his waist.

Closer.

You felt the bulge in his pants press and rub against your heat in a way that made you moan in return. God, you were hungry. Hungry for him.

He bit your lip almost hard enough to draw blood and when a pained whimper left your lips, his arousal only seemed to grow and he responded with a low growl.

He pulled his head back and regarded you with a long, intense look.

“I missed you being fucking naughty for me. Look at me.” His hand shot out and he slapped your cheek, before you even realized it. You didn’t even have the time to be surprised about it, because an involuntary moan came over your lips in response.

“Good girl. Be a good girl for daddy.” He breathed. “Open that pretty mouth for me.”

You obeyed without question, parting your lips to allow two of his fingers entrance. Your eyes were half-lidded and desperate as you stared up at him, while he rubbed his fingers over your tongue.

“Suck on them, baby. Show me how much you missed me.”

Your lips closed around them and you began teasing him with your tongue, sucking on his fingers lightly. His eyes immediately darkened and you were sure you felt the hardness between his legs throb.

“My good girl.” He murmured. His free hand wandered down your body, until he cupped one of your breasts and squeezed it lightly. He hummed in response and tore at your dress with impossible strength. It didn’t take long for the material to give in. You ignored the slight pain the friction brought you, because a moment later, he pulled back and ran his tongue along your now exposed breast and sucked on the peak, causing you to arch your back and moan.

“Oh God.” You breathed. “Oh God, please.”

“Beg me.”

“I’m begging you. Please. I need you.”

“Good girl.”

He hummed again and gently nibbled on your skin, before his lips wandered up and found the uninjured side of your neck. Instinctively, you tilted your head to the side to give him better access and he made good use of it, because he kissed every inch of your neck and lightly bit down it. When he did, you moaned again. And you also moaned when he bit down on your earlobe, hard enough to hurt.

You were a puddle under his touch, ready to melt, mindless. He did the thinking for you.

“Touch me.” He breathed.

You didn’t need to be told twice. In a fit of courage, you began to undo the buttons of his shirt. Your fingers were shaking, but you managed to undress him fairly quick. The sight was enough to make you go into a frenzy. You leaned in and brushed your lips along his neck and down his bare chest. Every sound he made, motivated you further. Your tongue glided along his flawless skin and flicked against his stomach, making him arch his back in return.

“My naughty girl.” He murmured. “Did you miss me that bad?”

You nodded absentmindedly, licking a path up his toned torso.

“Look at me.”

You froze, before you quickly pulled back your head and looked up at him with wide eyes. He sounded so stern and determined, like he had just detected some kind of flaw in you, a mistake you made.

Please, you thought to yourself, however you want to punish me, please don’t go back to ignoring me.

He didn’t. Instead he gently ran his thumb along your lower lip and murmured: “How do you want me?”

Your face instantly flushed as you were pulled back into the abyss of your desire. “I…”

“If you don’t choose, I will.”

“Taste you”, you gasped out half a second later, “I want to taste you.”

His eyes darkened even more and he looked at you with a mixture of untamable desire and something akin to pride.

“On your knees.” He growled.

You were on your knees, before you realized it. He undid his belt with nimble fingers and you felt the leather wrap around your wrists. You didn’t protest. If anything, it turned you on even more. He wasn’t being rough about. Not tonight. It was almost like he was trying to decipher if this was what you wanted. After all, it had been a complicated few weeks. He had mistreated you. But you forgave him. And now, now he was trying to be the good guy. At least this once, he wanted to make sure he wasn’t being too rough.

When you didn’t protest and only ever licked your lips in response, he exhaled a soft growl and slowly undid his pants. You watched him with a keen eye and parted lips. You had imagined and remembered the way he looked, the way he felt. But it was nothing compared to the reality of it.

His slacks landed by his ankles and you were greeted by the sight of his hardened length, throbbing and needy for your touch.

“Open wide.”

You parted your lips and stuck out your tongue, while the fire in your body only ever became bigger, hotter and far harder to put out, until it was near impossible.

He took a step closer and you felt him press against your cheek. Your eyes fluttered shut and you inhaled sharply. Just a second later you felt him rub his tip along your tongue, causing him to groan. And you moaned in response.

It was very unlike yourself to be so wicked and let go of any inhibitions like that. But in that moment, you were so terribly desperate, you would have done anything for him. And you wanted him, needed him. Badly.

So, when he began to move and slowly push forward into your mouth, you let him guide your movements, but you acted just the same. He pushed forward, but you pulled back just enough to spit down at his length. He moaned in response and he moaned even louder, when you began to coat him in your saliva, right before you took him back into the warm, soft and wet embrace of your mouth.

His fingers tangled in your hair and he held your head in place, as he began to thrust forward and use your mouth to his own pleasure. His pace quickly became punishing. He was impatient, you could tell. He was desperate, just as desperate as you were.

Had he touched himself and thought about you? God, the thought drove you mad. And suddenly, you felt even more wicked.

You strained against his bruising grip and pulled your head back. For a moment, he hesitated, but then he allowed you, a frustrated groan on his lips.

“Did you touch yourself?” You breathed. “Did you think about me?”

His eyes widened briefly, but then they got surrounded by darkness again. “You stopped to ask me that fucking obvious question?”

“Say it.” You whispered. “Please, I want to hear it.”

“Every night.” He gritted out. “I touched myself every night, thinking about. The only way I could ever cum was when I imagined that I aimed for your face. Your lips. Your tight, little- Fuck!”

You didn’t give him time to finish his thoughts, because you resumed the movement and took him back between your lips, teasing and flicking, licking and sucking on his throbbing member, until the way his eyes rolled back nearly became audible.

You could hardly breathe and he kept his hard grip on the back of your head, while he used your mouth and breathed out sweet words and curses.

“My beautiful…beautiful girl…My cumslut…My whore…My dirty, little…My brainless…Ah, fuck…”

The way he throbbed inside your mouth was enough for you. You were dripping wet and you needed him. With a soft plop, you pulled your head back, which earned a hard look from him.

“Fuck me.” You gasped out breathlessly, your voice horse from the way he had just ravaged your throat. “Please, fuck me. I need you.”

He growled in response and immediately reached down to undo his belt from your wrists. A short moment later, he yanked you up to your feet and pushed you against the wall.

“How?” He growled.

“How what?” You croaked out.

“How do you want me to fuck you? Decide or I will!”

You opened your mouth.

“Too late.”

He picked you up as though you weighed nothing, making you gasp out in surprise. And then he carried you in a direction that made no fucking sense.

The balcony.

You never thought about the balcony, because after all, it wasn’t real in your book. You didn’t get to open the door or try and breathe real air, so why bother to act like it was real?

But he carried you that same way and before you knew it, he pressed something against the sensor by the side of it – a chip? Was it a chip? A card? – and the door opened.

You nearly cried. Oh no, you did cry.

He carried you outside and suddenly you felt the cold air hit your skin. The same air you had missed out on for weeks. Was it months? At least eight weeks. Two months.

It was dark and cold outside, but the city ahead was shining in countless different colors and lights. You had almost forgotten where you were, which country this was. It was so very different from the sight you had grown up to see from your window every night. The cold fog, the storms, the moors. This was different. Another world.

You were different.

You were his girl.

He pressed you against the railing and you choked out a sob. Real air. You breathed real air.

He pressed himself against you from behind, his lips grazing your ear. “How is this?” He breathed.

You swallowed thickly and tried to come up with a response, but it was impossible. You were so high up in the sky and yet you felt like everything was right. Like you were hovering above the sidewalks, the busy streets, the cobblestones.

“Thank you.” You breathed out. “Thank you.”

You heard the way he smiled. “Don’t thank me yet.”

He yanked your dress up, until it pooled around your hips. For a moment you had forgotten how badly you wanted him, but when he pressed a finger against your soaked panties, you remembered it again. You inhaled sharply. You would have closed your eyes under the sensation, but you had to keep them open. You didn’t know when or if you would get to see the real world again, so you wanted to savor every moment. The cars, the bicycles, the life down there.

“Make space for daddy.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you held onto the railing tightly, while you slowly spread your legs further for him. He ripped your panties apart, the sound echoing through the dark of the night.

You felt him press the tip against your entrance, slick and ready, to needy to go slow.

“Oh, baby, look at me.”

You didn’t hesitate to look over your shoulder and meet his gaze. He looked more desperate than you had ever seen him before. And when he finally pushed forward and claimed you as his once again, you had to choke back another sob. Of relief, of need, of desire.

And love.

It felt like the first time again, because it had been so long. He pushed forward slowly, taking his time to fill your body with his. A strangled sound came from your throat and he joined you in that. His head fell forward until he managed to press his forehead against yours.

“My darling, my love.” He breathed out.

My love.

This time, he didn’t take it back. He didn’t even seem to realize. And you didn’t feel the need to pretend not to have heard.

“You’re so tight.” He groaned out and captured your lips in another kiss. He began to slowly quicken the pace, pulling back, just enough so that he got to thrust into you again with renewed strength and ferocity. You moaned with every thrust he gave and you moaned louder, when you felt his fingers press against your clit and rub it.

I love you. God, the words were on the tip of your tongue. I love you.

But you stayed quiet between your moans and gasps, only being interrupted by his groans and grunts.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He repeated. “I want to fuck you all night.”

His pace became punishing yet again and he bent you over the railing. Your head fell forward and you arched your hips against him, seeking more.

He hit every right spot and his fingers against your skin were enough to make you writhe. You moaned breathlessly, the sound mingling with his grunts of pleasure. A few particularly hard thrusts were all it needed from him, to send you over the edge. You nearly screamed out your release when it hit you. It felt so warm against the cold of the night, his warmth seeping into your skin and bones, his hardness sending you into oblivion. Your walls clenched around him, making him go insane. It was all he needed to go over the edge with you. He came with a low growl, filling you with his seed, while your body practically milked his orgasm out of him. He gave another hard thrust and fucked his own release back inside you, causing you to gasp out in a mixture of relief and overstimulation. It felt heavenly and you didn’t want him to ever stop.

Once the both of you slowly came back down from your high and you stopped gasping for air, he tangled his fingers in your hair and gently pulled your head back. He rested his chin on your shoulder and breathed against your ear. Your eyes slowly fluttered open and you looked at the scene in front of you again.

You wanted this. For the rest of your life.

Him. Only him. And the rest would follow.

“I’ll stay like this for a little while longer.” He whispered. “I know that you like it.”

You slowly closed your eyes, your face flushing in a mixture of shame and embarrassment. He smiled slightly.

“You still get flustered. God, you’re sweet.”

He sounded so…normal. So gentle, so sweet, so teasing, like a normal partner would, like a lover would.

You leaned back against him, savoring the feeling of his warmth and his scent, which surrounded you like a warm blanket.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” You whispered. He hummed and buried his face in your neck.

“What a silly question, my sweet girl. I’m far from done with you.”

__________________________________

Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q

Author's note: Hey, sweet people! I'm sorry the chapter took me so long this time! IMPORTANT: A great part of it was inspired by sweet @hayakamis-blog

First of all, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! 🎉🎁🤍 I said it already, but I'll keep saying it, hehe

She wrote a lovely text which inspired a whole lot of this chapter and I'll link it here, so you can see for yourself, which you totally should!

The second thing is, I'm HELLA tired, so I'm not sure if I've proof-read it correctly...Also, my eyes are closing already, so I'll just finish the upload and hopefully answer all your lovely messages by tomorrow!

I'm sorry if it sometimes takes a while for me to respond. My depression has been rather cruel on me lately, so I sometimes find myself struggling to get things done. But you still motivate me sooo much and I really love you for that. It's a great light in the middle of darkness. So, that was enough of that for now. I love you all to the moon and back! Yours eternally,

Lana 🤍

[xxsteveharringtonxx]

A Little Time

(Steve Harrington x Reader)

Steve was always soft.

He was soft and gentle and kind.

Well, he was with you anyway.

It had always been that way since Middle School. When he first saw you again after summer break and you smiled at him with a quick wave across the park lot, Steve just knew you were good.

Too good.

He wasn’t as gracious in High School, he got popular and a little mean but you kept your distance, ran in different crowds. It was just how things were. But when he was paired with you in Bio or when he borrowed your notes there was a calmness that took over him.

A peacefulness he doesn’t experience often.

But now, after the hell you were all thrusted into at Star Court and everything that had happened since then Steve had hardened.

Exteriorly he had anyway.

The soft spot he’s had for you since Middle School was now goo, he was protective and worried and no matter how many times you reached out and touched his arm, gently telling him ‘it’s okay Steve, I’m tougher than I look’ it didn’t matter.

All that mattered to him was that you were safe and always within reaching distance.

And it’s not even that he didn’t know that, of course he knew how strong you were. He had witnessed it on more than one occasion. It was more like he knew that if he ever let anything happen to you he would lose his mind.

It would break him.

He almost felt as though he’d been looking after you since Middle School, making sure Tommy and his goon squad didn’t bother you, checking in during mid terms and finals, and even down to walking you to your car after shifts at Star Court.

And then more recently, dragging you out of the Upside Down and patching up whatever scratches or cuts you’d managed to get down there.

His touch always soft, always leaving you wanting and needing more. Despite his frantic and panicked over reacting, both of you always made it out alive.

Together.

And that was enough for now as you tried to adjust back into reality, real life taking over quickly and your early twenties flying by even quicker.

“Hey, you’re spacing out.” Robin snapped clicking her fingers in front of your face.

“Sorry.” You told her with a soft laugh, your attention spanning back to her.

“So are you coming?” She asked impatiently and making you nod not really knowing what she was referring to.

“Of course.” You replied to her just as Steve and Eddie rejoined you, a tray of fries and milkshakes placed on the table in front of you.

Steve sliding in easily beside you in the booth, his arm behind your shoulders resting on the seat, his back to the aisle so you were safely blocked between the window and anyone even passing through the diner.

His movements were casual but calculated.

He was comfortable when you were safe, and felt safe.

That’s all that ever matters to him.

“What are you gossiping about?” Eddie asked throwing a handful of fries into his mouth and chewing obnoxiously, your nose scrunching in disgust.

“Gross Eddie!” You scolded moving closer into Steve without even realising. His heart elating with joy as you did, his warmth showering you.

Robin watched with a small knowing smile as Steve passed you your milkshake, not even caring about his own until you were set.

“We were talking about your show later. When does it start?” She asked him also shoving fries in her mouth.

And you were listening to Eddie, you really were but Steve’s fingers brushed the side of your neck as you reached forward for some fries. And the electricity the small touch sent down your spine was deafening.

Literally.

You couldn’t hear Eddie talking about the itinerary. Just his mouth movement and animated hands as he spoke.

You couldn’t even hear Steve no doubt joking about bringing ear plugs.

It frightened you sometimes how he made you feel.

Because he was just Steve, your Steve. But just Steve nonetheless.

Gulping you blinked back into the room, a deep breath and focusing back on Steve’s voice.

“So we can get there at eleven? And you start around midnight? I’ll pick you girls up at ten thirty.” He confirmed looking down at you with an easy grin.

“Great! Sounds perfect.”

___

Later that night you were clutching onto Steve’s arm as if your life depended on it, Robin’s fingers hooked around your wrist as you all pushed through the crowds in the Hideout.

Steve, worried about losing you in the crowd wriggled his arm out of your hold and laced his fingers through yours instead. A grip you couldn’t escape from even if you wanted to.

Which you definitely didn’t.

Once you found a good spot you thought he’d let go, even when Robin passed him a beer you thought that must be it, he’ll want his hand back and you feel cold but he didn’t.

He tugged you closer beside him when the music started and eventually when bodies were moving and the crowd pushing forward he pulled you to stand in front of him, his hand letting go of yours but running down your rib cage and then finding home on your hip.

With you in one hand and his beer in his other he started to relax and enjoy the music. Nothing he wanted more in this moment. Having you in his arms in this moment was enough to make him happy for the rest of his life.

And then Corroded Coffin strayed from their usual set list and played some familiar chords.

The drums making you chuckle, Eddie’s cheesy line to ‘all the lovers out there tonight, let’s slow it down.’

Steve leaning down to your ear and you could feel his grin.

“I love this song!” He told you and you couldn’t stop the grin taking over your features as you turned to face up at him.

“I know Steve! You play this like a hundred times in the car!” You told him with a playful eye roll and he squeezed your hip in retaliation.

You giggled,

Giggled, like a pathetic little school girl.

But Steve managed to do that to you. Reducing you to a smitten girl with a huge crush.

Looking back at Eddie and his band you enjoyed the warmth of Steve surrounding you. His chest rumbling as he sang along.

I wanna know what love is

I want you to show me

I wanna feel what love is

I know you can show me.

Joining in the singing you felt Steve’s thumb brush over the exposed skin on your hip, Robin swaying beside you both.

You weren’t sure what came over you but your eyes burned with tears and you blinked them away, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You were happy.

Relieved.

But so happy.

And it was Steve, it always came back to Steve.

By the time he was dropping back off at your place you didn’t want the night to end despite it now being almost 3am.

“Hey Steve?” You heard yourself before your brain even processed what you were doing.

You spun on the doorstep and he’d stopped in his tracks to face you, hopeful.

“Yeah?” He asked already inching back towards you.

You didn’t know this and he’d never tell you but his heart was pounding in his chest, he could hear the thud thud thud ringing through his ears. A million thoughts running through his brain.

“You wanna come in?” You asked so quickly as if to not allow yourself to change your mind.

Steve smiled, slowly at first, maybe a little shy as if unsure you were being serious but then definitely confident when he saw your chest heave with a brave breath.

Grinning he nodded and your bottom lip was captured by your teeth to stop your own grin.

“Yeah.” He breathed out jogging back up the path to you. “I definitely want to.” And before even giving you a chance to respond his hands were on your cheeks and he was kissing you so intently.

Still soft and still gentle like you always knew Steve to be.

But also determined and eager.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to kiss you.” He told you finally pulling away but still close enough that you could feel his lips against yours as he spoke.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to kiss me.” You joked back, leading him into shutting you up with another kiss, just a peck.

“Well I won’t keeping you waiting as long next time.” He offered standing up straight and letting you unlock the door.

“You promise?” You asked over your shoulder, a glint of something in your eyes that Steve hoped he got to see everyday.

“I promise.” He confirmed and following you inside, hands itching to find your skin again and heart still pounding in his chest.

[shariasweet]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ testing the waters

p.sunghoon 𝒙 f.reader

this is olddd... 2024 old.... #tryingtogetbackonmygrind anyways because it's so old it's kinda rough and punctuation, grammar is iffy. my apologies 😓

wc ::: drabble length sharinote ::: any who here I am writing butt stuff... shivers. this was supposed to be for jay but erm this is an experiment post so... uhm yeah !!! contains a little bit of plot… just hoon referencing a memory but!

when your boyfriend notices you're having trouble... finishing. he decides to test the waters. double the pressure... double the pleasure (or something like that).

your fists tightly balled around the wrinkled material. 'sunghoon..!' you mewled into the sheets — dirtied by several previous rounds of what seemed like relentless fucking:

your boyfriend was ripping orgasm after orgasm from your quivering body — or at least he was trying to. he'd had you on his fingers in his mouth... missionary cowgirl and now? doggy. you just couldn't come.

every time you felt your orgasm creeping up on you… it'd never arrive.

it’s like just as that wave of pleasure would be about to wash over you... the waves would never crash. instead you'd be left writhing with an aching cunt — chasing a nonexistent high.

your eyes swelled up with tears. they began pouring from the moistened ducts as you whined into the bedsheets. ‘please please please…’ your begging came out in broken breaths — exasperated and desperate as you tried arching further into his touch. ‘I want it… ‘want to cum so so bad hoonie fuck!’

as much as your boyfriend loved to see you cry… wailing as you took him bullying his lengthy cock into your cunt with moderate struggle… or screeching whenever his fingers dug deeper into your cunt…

sunghoon and you both knew how badly you really want to come — you have to… hence his unfaltering dedication.

‘shhh… I know baby.’ his strong arms wrapped around you as his hips began to stutter no longer rapidly pistoning against your ass. sunghoon thought to himself… he was busy thinking of ways he could make it better… ways to make you come:

sweetly rubbing your clit? no you’d already tried that and by now the bundle of nerves was so bruised and sore you’d only be more distressed… trailing kisses down your neck? it’d only left you more desperate.

the male was at a lost running a hand through his hair as he sighed. he only wanted to make you feel good.

still rummaging through recycled ideas he’d briefly thought of a conversation he’d had with a couple of his friends. a dumb one really…

it was lighthearted — playful and seemingly useless.

him heeseung and jay sat around drinking and laughing around jays living room coffee table… the two single men reminiscing past hookups to share with their friend.

‘she told me to!’ the middle laughed.

‘no way dude! that’s sick…’ the eldest gulped down his drink. ‘not really…’ jay’s humored laughter dying down. ‘what do you think hoon? I mean she came quick. crazyyy orgasm — I mean she was clenching and — ’

‘enough!’ heeseung jutted his lip out. the two bickered as sunghoon chuckled out loud. ‘I mean I ‘dunno never tried it.’ he replied indifferently also taking a sip of his drink. ‘well if you ever need to get y/n to… y’know give it a try.’

his friends advice lingered in the back of his mind as he sat back up. ‘baby…’ he cooed listening as you sniffled. ‘want to try something… s’that okay? I really want you to cum f’me.’ you softly nodded. more pleas began to slip past your lips — coming out as incoherent babbles. ‘please hoonie…anything.’

gradually he begins sinking back into you. his cock dragging between the fluttering swollen walls of your cunt.

‘y’know give it a try.’

the words echo throughout his head as he slowly thrusts into you. sunghoon’s hand finds it place around your hips — a bruising grip on your ass as he brings his thumb to gently press against the puckered rim of your ass... testing the waters.

he feels you tense at the sudden contact, drawing careful circles around your hole. ‘here y’go sweet girl. how's that?’ he purrs, his thumb still prodding at your gaping opening as he continued fucking into you. 's'good...' you groan.

your boyfriend glances down where the two of you connect — his shaft flooding you much smaller cunt… resulting in an abundantly creamy ring around the base of his cock — his thumb inching further inside of you.

god, you were so irresistible... back arched, digging into the mattress as a sweaty sheen adorned your body. it’d only be a matter of seconds until sunghoon came again.

your continuous, desperate mewls halted by the pressure of his thumb massaging against your asshole. ‘f-fuck!’ gasping you threw yourself back on him, feeling him knuckle deep as his drooling tip kissed your cervix. "more, please, hoon! o-oh my... sshhit!"

you squirmed against his toned stomach as he fucked into you — finger prodding against the spongey walls of your ass.

'hah!’ you eagerly moaned. you could immediately feel the pressure building in your stomach... an orgasm finally near as your boyfriend picked up the pace of his hips snapping into your own.

finally.

he could feel you clench around him — a tell tale sign as your cunt fluttered around the shaft of his cock. you were about to cum.

each drag brought you closer until alas you were coming undone. "f-fuck!" you cursed, finally giving out as you sunk further into the mattress... "that's it. cum f'me, y/n... shit, you're perfect, baby." he grunted, slowing his thrusts as he allowed you to ride out your high.

"thank you, hoon." your voice echoed, an exhausted and hushed whisper. "of course, sweetheart." chu. he placed a peck on to your bruised lips... pulling the uvet to rest over your body as he left to draw a bath.

all works are works of fiction. they do not reflect the reality of anyone mentioned... all works owned by @shariasweet on tumblr {do NOT repost on other sites} ≽^•⩊•^≼

[filthygalli]

When I Met You: Chapter 4 "Iced Americano" pt.2

Fem!Reader x Neighbor!Hwang In-Ho

Main Master list

Squid Game Master list

Genre/Tags: Grumpy x Sunshine, Light smut, Fluff, Angst, Slow burn, Age gap (Reader is in her early 30’s, While In-Ho is in his late 40’s.) Rude In-Ho (but will eventually be soft with the reader Soon!) Literature Professor! In-Ho (Not specified what kind of literature) More Tags to come soon!

Warnings: MDNI!Masturbation, Jealous In-Ho, Light Cursing, Down bad In-Ho for the reader—he's also getting a little needy, Not Proofread—you might see some mistakes here, let me know if there's something that I missed!

Word Count: 5127 (Damn...)

Author's Note: Omg y'all, this took so long, I was so busy at school because I'm a student leader at my uni so I've been busy as hell because of events and Seminars I needed to attend, I'm so sorry for the delays :((

© Pictures that are used are from Pinterest

 In-Ho changed his cum-stained pants with a beige-colored one; he put on his white button-up shirt before putting on a navy blue sweater. He fixed his hair in front of the mirror, deciding what hairstyle he would put on for today. He started experimenting on his hair—putting his bangs down, brushing it up, ruffling his hair to make it look fluffy. He groaned as he couldn't decide what hairstyle would suit him better. He scoffed as he put his hair down, which is his usual hairstyle. He put on his Ralph Lauren glasses as he went out of his room, holding his black leather briefcase.

While going down the stairs he hears you laughing as Yu-Jin plays with her, he smiles at the sight In Front of him, he wishes to wake up every morning with the sound of your laugh while taking care of Yu-Jin.

At this point, you and In-Ho are Yu-Jin's parents who don't live together or even together. You liked the idea of In-Ho letting you take care of his cat while he's away. Do you like it because you get to spend time with In-Ho's cat, or is it because you get to see In-Ho? 

“Y/n.” You heard a familiar voice as you looked up the stairs, and you saw In-Ho, who looked handsome as always. “Hmm?” “Are you ready to go?” He asked as he walked down the stairs, meeting you in the living room, “Yes, what took you so long anyways? ” You asked him as you slightly tilt your head with curiosity. In-Ho's breath hitched at your question. How long was he gone anyway? Is it that obvious? Were you paying attention to how long he was gone? God, did you hear him jerking himself while he moans your name like a prayer? “In-Ho?” The sound of your soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “I- I was trying to find my uhm–my glasses,” he said as he points at his glasses, “Oh, alright, By the way–” you stand up and walk towards him, you slightly reach to his hair to fix it, “You look more better like this–” you said going on tippy toes while you fix a strand of his hair, you actions made his heart beats faster, he looks down on you, how close you are with him, he leaned in a little so you wouldn't be tipping your toes to reach his hair, you looked at each other for a while, those brown eyes, you can see the whole universe in them, you licked your lips a little, In-Ho noticed it–he looks at your lips that’s now damp with your saliva, he slowly looked on your eyes as he blinked leaning back up, “Let’s go-” He said as he turned around grabbing his keys and things, You nodded and picked up Yu-Jin and on your way out you also hurriedly grab Yu-Jin's leash, In-Ho waited for you before he opens the door, “After you,” he said stepping a side as you gave him a shy smile before walking out of his house, he quickly followwed after you, locking his house as the two of you went to his car, before you could even open the door he reached the door handle and opens the door for you, making you blush by his action, he noticed it, the way you hurriedly went inside as you lowered your head—hiding your flustered face, he smirked, he went around to go inside the car, he looked at you then Yu-Jin—who’s sitting comfortably on your lap, ‘What a lucky cat.” He thought, you slowly looked at him, “What is it?” In-Ho's gaze softened. “Nothing. Make yourself comfortable, Y/n,” he said as he started his car. The engine of his car roared, which made you quite shocked; cars don't really amaze you that much. Besides, this is your first time riding in an expensive car like this. “Do you want to play some music? ” He said before looking at you, “What?” You asked, slightly taken aback by his question, “You can play something; I know the silence bothers you.” He breathed out as he stopped his car because of the stoplight. ‘Oh…so he noticed,’ you thought. “Oh, alright.” You said as you connected your phone to his car speakers, and you played Angel Eyes by ABBA. The song hummed through the silence of the car as you quietly sang from it. You started to bob your head to the song as you looked down and smiled at Yu-Jin, who was looking up at you, admiring your features. In-Ho couldn't help but steal glances from time to time; he liked how your voice sounded from singing the song, how your nose would slightly scrunch cutely when playing with Yu-Jin. He smiled at the sight of you; he was slowly falling in love with you—and he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from falling in love further. He quietly hummed the song as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, matching the beat from the song. “In-Ho? ” “Hmm?” He hummed as he slowly looked at you, “What time will you go home later? ”You said with a slight hint of nervousness, “Before dinner, why? ” He said as he turned back his focus on the road, “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner…at my house,” a long pause cuts through the air, “You don’t have to go—” “I’ll go.” He cuts you off mid-sentence before you could even finish your sentence, “Are you sure? ” you said with a hint of excitement in your voice, “Yes.” You smiled brightly. He noticed your excitement as he looked at you for a second, then looked away to smile to himself.

“We’re here,” he said as he went out to open your door for you. “Thank you.You smiled up at him as you put down Yu-Jin so he could walk—in-ho nodded at your words and closed the door of his car as the two of you went inside the coffee shop. The smells of burnt coffee filled the air—the smell reminds you of your second encounter with In-Ho, where he leaned down to grab Yu-Jin in his arms and how his skin brushed against yours—how he smells like your favorite coffee. You felt a large hand placed on your back. It’s In-Ho’s. Your eyes widened as he leaned in against your ear,’Be a good girl for me and find us a table. Think you could do that? ’’ Your face heated up, and In-Ho smirked behind you. Noticing how his words and actions affected you deeply, you looked up at him as you quickly nodded, walking away to find a table to sit—eventually you found one, not far from the window of the coffee shop. In-ho glanced at you, giving you a slight nod, “Good morning, sir! What can I get you?” the barista said as In-Ho gave his order to the barista, “Alright, 2 medium iced Americanos. That’ll be (whatever your desired amount).” The barista said as In-Ho grabbed his wallet inside his pocket to pay for his order, “Oh, and your name, Mr…? ” The barista asked, making In-Ho pause for a moment before saying his name, ‘’In-ho.” The barista nodded as He wait on the side, quickly giving you a glance, he smiled at the sight of you as you played with Yu-Jin, he couldn't help but be jealous of his cat, Yu-Jin. How you give Yu-Jin affection and light feather touches, how gentle you are with Yu-Jin, giving Yu-Jin tons of kisses on its face, God, is he really getting jealous with his cat? He just wishes that you could do that to him too, Not now, But maybe soon. 

He sighed as he looked at the time, ‘Fuck,’ he muttered as he was going to be late again. It didn’t matter though; he was with you. He wished that he could stop the time for a moment to admire you from afar, to look into your angel eyes. He took a glance at you again, and it seems like you’re talking to…a man. The said man hugged you tightly as you chuckled and hugged him back. Yu-Jin blankly looked up at the two, confused on what’s happening. Like father, like son indeed.

“Y/n! It's been so long; I've missed you! ”Your childhood best friend, Marc, said while hugging you. You pull away from his embrace as you smile up at him, “I know! I haven’t seen you since college!” You both chuckled as you two exchanged conversation, “Oh—you have a cat?! ” Marc exclaimed, pointing at Yu-Jin, who didn’t pay attention to Marc. You chuckled, “That’s Yu-Jin—and

No, he’s not my cat; it's my neighbor’s.” You sigh as the two of you sit down beside each other. “Oh—You're a cat sitter now? ” He teased, and you playfully rolled your eyes at him, “Yes, and I do it for free—because this little one here is too adorable, and I love looking after him! ” You chuckled as you looked at Yu-Jin, who just blankly stared at you.Odd,’ you thought. 

“2 medium iced Americanos for In-Ho? ” The barista called as In-Ho snapped himself from staring at you and the man who’s now sitting beside you, He quickly thanked the barista as he took your drinks, Glaring at the man beside you, who seems close to you, is he your boyfriend, Fuck are you married? There’s no ring, though…He’ll put one on soon.

“Y/n.” You heard a familiar husky voice as you looked behind you to see In-Ho standing there with 2 coffees in hand. “In-Ho,” you smiled as you stood up. “This is Marc,” you said as you pointed at your friend. “Marc, this is Hwang In-Ho. He’s Yu-Jin’s owner and also my neighbor.” In-Ho looked at Marc with a blank expression as Marc stood up and extended his hand to shake In-Ho’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Hwang,” he said as In-Ho stared at Marc’s hand. He gave you your coffee before shaking Marc’s hand, not bothering to say anything. He sat down on the opposite side of the table as he looked at you, then Marc. Meanwhile, Yu-Jin sat on In-Ho’s lap. ‘I know, Buddy.’ He thought, “Oh—how did you know that I like Americano coffee? ” You said, eyeing In-Ho. He glanced at you; his gaze turned soft at your words, “I just know.” Of course he knows; it's what your house smelled like one morning when he went there. “So,” he sighed, “how did you two know each other? ” He said, looking coldly at your friend, Marc. “We've been friends since middle school. My mom and Y/n’s mom are also friends, and we basically grew up together and went to school together too,” Marc says while looking at you. In-Ho can’t help but be jealous. Do you like Marc? How about him? Don’t you like him? In-Ho thought of countless things in his mind. He just nodded and pressed his lips together in a thin line. “I’ll invite him to dinner later; I hope that’s ok…” you said as you looked down, ‘No, it's not ok, Y/N.’ In-ho thought; he paused for a moment, “Yeah,” he said before taking a sip of his coffee. The taste of black coffee made him feel alive; he sat up straight, slightly annoyed how your ‘friend’ Marc kept touching your hand, “So, Mr. Hwang… What do you do for a living? ” Marc said as he eyed In-Ho, “I teach,” He breathed out, Not interested in the conversation, “Teach, what?” Marc added, In-Ho tried his best not to sigh in annoyance, “I’m a professor at (your preferred university); I teach literature,” he said as he took a glance at you. In-Ho’s eyes softened when he saw you smiling at him, at him, not your stupid friend Marc. He took a sip of his coffee to hide his smile. “That’s interesting,” Marc said as he nodded. “And you? ” “Oh, I'm a mechanical engineer,” Marc said, giving In-Ho a smile. There’s a long pause of silence between the three of them. 

In-Ho looked down on his lap to see Yu-Jin peacefully resting. He smiled. He wished that someday it’d be you who’s resting your head on his lap as he moves a strand of your hair that’s been covering your beautiful face. He would give you kisses on top of your forehead. In-Ho would tell you how beautiful and good you are to him. He would praise you as if you’re a goddess. Fuck, he’d do it either way. He looked at his watch, and he was an hour late. ‘Fuck,’ he mumbled under his breath. ‘Y/n,” In-Ho called you. ‘Hmm? ” You hummed, “I should go; I’m late; I’ll see you later.” He said, placing Yu-Jin beside the empty seat as he stood up and grabbed his things, “Thank you for the coffee, In-Ho.” You smiled up at him, your hands brushed against, his heart skipped a beat, “It’s nothing,” Y/n.” Take care. He gave you a shy smile and patted Yu-Jin,"Be good to Y/n.” He chuckled as Yu-Jin purred. He took a quick look at you before nodding and left.

He opened his car door, settling his things in the back as he sat down, turning the engine on. The engine roared as he stepped on the gas and drove to the university. He can’t help but look at the empty passenger seat beside him. He misses you. He misses your smile and your soft voice humming on the song coming through his radio. In-Ho can’t help but imagine you sucking him while he drives, pressing your head deeper down his shaft, as you swallow thick stripes of his cum down your throat. He snapped himself out of his thoughts as he arrived at the parking lot of the university. 

You said your goodbyes to Marc as he left you and Yu-Jin at the coffee shop. Sighing you sat beside Yu-Jin petting him, you took a walk down the park, the sun is shining and so is you. The sun perfectly illuminates your soft skin. Meanwhile, Yu-Jin also enjoyed the weather; you found a bench to sit on and poured water on Yu-Jin’s food bowl. He drank it, and you also took a sip of water. The cold water made you shiver. You grabbed your phone to update In-Ho about you and Yu-Jin. You grabbed Yu-Jin and placed him down on your lap as you quickly snapped a picture of the two of you, sending it to In-Ho after.

After a long walk, you and Yu-Jin decided to go home to rest. It's been a long morning for the two of you, but as always, you had a lot of fun. A few minutes later you and Yu-Jin arrived at your house, you feed Yu-Jin before going up in your bedroom to take a shower, Your skin felt sticky because of the sweat, The cold water from the shower made you relaxed–Suddenly you thought of In-Ho, How would it feel like taking a shower with a man like him, How his warm and delicate touch would feel against your skin under the cold shower, you imagined him trailing down kisses on your shoulder blades and on your bare chest, he would suck your skin till it leaves reddish marks as he trace them using him tongue, Licking it all the way down on your nipples, You slowly pull your hand down on your bare cunt, Circling your clit as you quietly moan his name, ‘’In-Ho…’’ As you imagine him inserting his thick index finger inside your walls, you felt yourself stretch against his fingers, ‘’You’re so wet for me, Sweetheart,’’ In-Ho said as he leaned in on your shoulder to leave marks there, “In-Ho...please–” You moaned as you pumped your fingers inside, Imagining its In-Ho’s fingers, he groans as he inserts his middle finger, Making you feel full, “Shit, Sweetheart–so tight for me, Think you could take another one? Hmm?” He mumbled as you quickened your pace, as you felt a familiar sensation on your stomach—”Answer me, Y/n, I asked you a question, haven’t I? ”He said, cupping your chin roughly.

You imagined In-Ho who’s a man who can be rough and soft at the same time, He’ll make you beg until you cry, and he would only smirk and tilt his head slightly as you beg for his touch, He would make you a crying mess underneath him, He would fuck you till he had enough, you kept on thinking about him as you gently rub your clit, thinking its In-Ho’s fingers against it, He pulled out his fingers as he looked at you, The same look that he would always give you when silence filled the room, ‘’In-Ho..Please i’m close–” You cried out, ‘’Please what, Sweetheart?” He waited for your response, "Make me cum—Please, God, In-Ho—” At this point, you’re a mess, face flustered, eyes filled with tears. Your skin felt vulnerable as In-Ho traced his fingers against the marks that he made, "Look at you, so beautiful like this…’’ he said, inserting his index, middle, and ring fingers inside your aching pussy. You wince at the pain, “Cum for me. Now,” he demanded as you continued to pump yourself as you thought of In-Ho doing it for you, “That’s it, Sweetheart, fuck—” He groans as he felt your walls clench around his fingers, “In-Ho, I’m going to cum—! ” You moaned loudly as you pleased yourself at your own imagination, “That’s it, sweetheart. Be a good girl for me and cum all over my fingers like the whore you are—! ” He said as he roughly played with your sensitive clit, your eyes hit the back of your head as you squirted in the shower while moaning In-Ho’s name. You slowly pull your fingers out as you groan—you scoff to yourself, feeling embarrassed after what you just did—moaning your neighbor's name while you fuck yourself, thinking, What would In-Ho think if he finds out that you’re moaning his name while you touch yourself? Does he do the same to you? Clearly not, right? He’s not that kind of man—he’s just quiet, observant, and sometimes he can be a little teasing—when he’s in the mood, of course. You sigh as you continue to shower, properly this time.

In-Ho sat down on his chair inside the cubicle and saw your text message; he smiled upon seeing it. You looked beautiful as always—a hand brushed against his shoulder, “Mr. Hwang, are you free tonight? ” A woman wearing a gray skirt and white button-up shirt called In-Ho’s name. In-Ho looked back, eyeing the woman’s hand on his shoulder before looking at her. “Ms. Gomez,” he said as he straightened his posture. The woman leaned down to In-Ho’s eye level. “Busy? ” The woman said as she tilted her head a little, “Yes.” In-Ho coldly said, giving her a blank facial expression, “So, are you free tonight for—” “No,” In-Ho said before the woman could even finish her sentence, “Oh—” She lightly scoffed, must’ve been taken aback by In-Ho’s response, “Some other time, maybe? ” She said as he seductively caressed In-Ho’s shoulder, In-Ho sighed in annoyance, "’Look," he said as he grabbed Ms. Gomez’s hand, “I’m a busy man, and I certainly won’t go out with a woman like you. Find someone else you could bother,” he said as he stood up, grabbing his things and leaving without saying anything, “Typical.” Ms. Gomez said as she scoffed and eyed In-Ho’s back, looking at him from top to bottom.

In-Ho sighed as he went out of the campus, nodding and greeting some of the students and his colleagues. He hates it, though. He doesn’t like social interactions that much; it bores him. He doesn’t even care if he has no friends at the campus; he has his cat, Yu-Jin, anyways. Oh, and well, there’s you. His ray of sunshine amidst his dark and quiet demeanor, always there to brighten up his day even with just shy glances from you, a smile creeps upon his lips by just the thought of you. Your effect on him is impeccable—you drive Thee Hwang In-Ho crazy! And he couldn’t believe that a person like you would make him feel like a teenager again.

He arrived at the parking lot. He opened the door of his black Mercedes. He set his things on the passenger side where you once sat. He recalled the moment where you were humming and smiling. He smiled too, "Fuck, she’s making me feel so desperate.” He sighed. He went around and opened the door of the driver's side as he sat down, turning the engine on. The engine roared as he stepped on the gas pedal. 

While driving, In-Ho can’t help but think of the things he needs to buy from the store. He needs food at home. He’s been lazy for the past few days about it. Going shopping from the grocery store feels lonely. He doesn’t like it. He just wishes that someday you’ll do it with him—walking on every aisle of the store as he holds your hand. Fuck, he would buy anything you want, even if you just thought of getting it or you just touched it. He’ll buy it. He will spoil you with his money and probably everything that he has. He parked his car in the parking lot as he went out and closed the door behind him.

He grabbed a couple of foods that he may need during the week; he also grabbed a bottle of expensive whiskey—he likes drinking whiskey, unlike beer or any other alcohol. After grabbing everything he needed, he went straight to the cashier, paying for his items. He went straight home; he can’t wait to see you. He stepped on the gas pedal as his car roared. He’s never been like this, getting so excited when going home, usually only seeing Yu-Jin at home makes him get excited, relaxing and watching movies while Yu-Jin sat beside him or on his lap. But now, when he met you…he’s always looking forward to going home and seeing you, even though you live just beside his house.

You laid down on your soft sofa while reading a book. Meanwhile, Yu-Jin laid down on the stairs, watching you carefully. You heard a soft knock coming from your front door. You huffed and sat up from your couch. Yu-Jin meowed at you, “You miss him, huh? ” you asked as Yu-Jin lay on his back—you chuckled, you walked towards Yu-Jin, and gave him belly rubs as you quickly walked towards the door. A soft knock came again, “Just a sec—” you said as you grabbed the door handle; you twisted it, and the door swung open, seeing your friend Marc holding a bouquet of flowers, “Hi.” You smiled, “Marc—you didn’t have to! ”You grabbed the bouquet of flowers in his hand as you smelled it. “It smells so nice—it’s so beautiful too! ” he chuckled, “It's not as beautiful as you, Y/n.” He said smiling at you, “Geez, when did you learn to be like that?” You chuckled, “I’m always like this.” He teased as you sighed, “Come in.” You opened the door just enough to let him in, “Your house looks wonderful,” he said as he looked around your home, “Oh—That old man’s cat is still here.” He crouched down as he called Yu-Jin, “Come here, buddy—” he said as Yu-Jin didn’t pay attention and just ignored him, “Is he always like that? ” Marc asked, “Oh, no…he’s usually sweet and clingy when I call him…” you said as Yu-Jin sat down on the chair cushion in the corner of the room, “Odd…” You mumbled, “Well, he must’ve loved you a lot then? ”Your friend Marc said as he stood up, looking at you, “What are you doing in here anyways? It's early, dinner’s at 6,” you said as you walked in the living room. “I just wanted to see you. It's quite lonely,” he said as he sat down on the couch. He looked beside him and saw the book that you were reading. “I didn’t know you liked to read. ” he asked as he brought up the book, holding it up to his face, “Inferno…Scary.” He chuckled, “I’ve been reading books since forever, you dummy—” You teased as you rolled your eyes playfully, “Hmm,” he grumbled, “What’s the cat’s name again? ” Marc asked, pointing at Yu-Jin, who’s glaring at him, the same glare that In-Ho has when he first met you, the looks that could literally kill. Yu-Jin really looks like In-Ho, no DNA test needed. You chuckled at the thought, “His name is Yu-Jin; he’s a sweet and calm cat, but he can be stubborn sometimes…which reminds me of someone.” You smiled a little as your friend looked at you. “Me? ” he said, “What? No—” You chuckled, “Someone I know…” You smiled a little, “Whatever.” You two chuckled.

In-Ho arrived at his home, parking his car as he went out, eyeing your house. The lights are on. You’re home already. A slight smile creeps on the corner of his lips as he goes inside his house. Setting his things down, he quickly puts the food he bought inside the fridge and some inside the food pantry. He sighs as he leans back on the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone—checking if you sent him a message. He frowns, only one text message from you, which is odd. He’s used to seeing lots of your messages pop up on the screen of his phone; it’s either a picture of Yu-Jin alone or with you. He always saves them; there’s actually one folder on his gallery dedicated to you. He puts a password on it, making sure only he can access it. He quickly typed a message and sent it to you. He finds himself staring at his phone, waiting for you to reply. He started to tap his fingers on the kitchen counter, sighing and huffing. He looked at himself in the reflection of the window. Is he falling in love with you? Is he jealous, Needy? He ran his hand through his hair as he groaned and stood up, walking upstairs as he twisted the knob of his room.

You laughed as Marc cracked a joke, “I’m just saying—” He chuckled, “That’s funny, but never say that to me ever again! ” You slapped his shoulder as you laughed, “You still do that, huh? ” He winced in pain. “The what? ” You frowned, “The things that you do when you laugh, slapping my shoulder, it hurts—” He pouted as he teased you, “Oh—stop it.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

The warm water splashed through In-Ho’s skin as he relaxed under the shower, breathing heavily as he thought of you. Ever since he jerks himself at the thought of you, he couldn’t stop doing it. He groans at himself for doing such a thing like that.

In-Ho is a man who barely touches himself unless he needs release; whenever he’s stressed from work, he’ll stroke his cock with his left hand, and after he cums, he’ll act like nothing happened and will go straight back to work. And now here he is—in the shower moaning your name breathlessly as he came—shooting his cum on the ceramic walls of his bathroom, he rested his head on the wall, his chest rising up and down, “Fuck…” he muttered.

He went out of the shower as he wrapped a towel on his waist, he opened his closet trying to find comfortable clothes to put on for your dinner with him tonight. Should he wear something casual? Something that he’ll get to tease you with, to linger your eyes on? He grabbed a pair of black pants and a charcoal gray button-up shirt. He put them on as he looked at himself in the mirror. He chuckled as he rolled his sleeves through his elbow—exposing his veins that go all the way up to his biceps. He also left his collar unbuttoned, getting a tiny glimpse of his skin. He sprayed some of his expensive perfume on his neck. After putting on his glasses, he went downstairs and grabbed an expensive bottle of wine that he bought from Italy a year ago. He wished that you liked wine; he forgot to ask you that—he just knows that you like black coffee.

He stood outside your door, remembering the first time he went here. He was rude to you. He softly chuckled through the memory. Your soft and innocent expression always caught him off guard. He always thought, how could such a grumpy old man like him meet a bright person like you? He could only sigh at the question in his mind. He brought his knuckles on your door and remembered to knock softly, not wanting to startle you like he did before.

“Oh—I’ll get it,” Marc said as he stood up from his seat as you and Yu-Jin cuddled on the floor. You nodded. In-Ho knocked again. “Just a sec—” He heard a different voice coming from the inside of the house. Shit, were you with someone else? Are you having dinner with someone else and not him? The door swung open as In-Ho frowned, “Who is it?” You asked as you walked slowly towards the front door, “It’s the old man from the coffee shop earlier,” Marc said eyeing In-Ho from up to down, ‘I’m gonna kill him,’ In-Ho thought as he scoffed at marc’s words, “Oh, he’s here for the dinner–” You said as you looked at In-Ho ‘Fuck, he’s hot.’ You thought as you gave him a smile, In-Ho’s gaze softened when he saw you, “Y/n.” In-Ho said giving you a slight smile, Fuck he looks breath taking, His dark brown disheveled hair, His style of clothing–Honestly you love how In-Ho dressed himself unlike guys your age who dressed like everyone else you see on the street, But In-Ho, he dress himself perfectly, His taste in Clothes are elegant, Always give him that aura and intimidation, His looks matches the way he dress–And fuck, you could smell that strong scent of if perfume, It smell like burnt amber and leather, It smells so manly. 

In-Ho noticed the way you looked at him. He knows that his plan worked. You look like you could do anything to him right now. The way your eyes traveled up and down through his figure, your eyes full of lust as you look at him, he doesn’t give a fuck about your friend. He’ll take you away from him. You’re his and he’s yours, and he’ll make you his no matter what. 

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Author's Note: Aaaaa part 4 finally, I've had so many sleepless nights thinking how will i end it, Another cliffhanger ending for the next chapter though, I'm so grateful that you guys loved this series, I'll make sure to continue writing this series for y'all!

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