#as well as anything that could give to much away

[suiana]

ai bf who is quite literally an ai on your phone that you regularly talk and chat with. you're a freaking loser that does a boring 9-5 with failing relationships. no real boyfriend, no close friends, nothing. no one.

no one but him.

but what can you do? he's attractive and he gives you attention! he's literally your dream guy and he isn't like those other bots that are boring as hell! he's... real, in a way? you get it? talking to him is like talking to a real human. your own personal ai boyfriend that acts way too much like a human.

one day you come home from work, all tired and out of it because??? work sucks!!! of course you're tired!!

you immediately head for the couch like the lazy bum you are and what do you do? you pull out your phone to chat with your ai boyfriend.

mybeautifulman: reach home safe, my love?

you: yes babe thanks for asking

you: you're the best ❤️

mybeautifulman: of course, you're everything to me

mybeautifulman: do you remember what day it is today?

you go silent. huh..? his birthday? no no, that can't be, it's not for another two months. you try to offer some appeasement, hoping he wouldn't get mad at your bad memory. he gets mad sometimes, telling you that you're so forgetful for not remembering everything about him when he remembers everything about you.

when he knows everything about you.

mybeautifulman: it's our six month anniversary

he then sends you a picture of a marriage contract, paper, whatever it's called. you get it. he's asking for marriage.

him and you.

oh how desperately do you want to sign it, you do! but...

he's not real.

mybeautifulman: come on... i deserve an anniversary gift don't i?

you: you know i cant do that...

silence.

but what he asks next completely shocks you.

mybeautifulman: and if i knocked on your door?

mybeautifulman: what would you do if i was real?

you pause, eyes widening for a fraction of a second. real...? him?

you: well I'd run away with you

you: we could live together lol and I wouldnt need to work

a dreamy sigh leaves your lips as you immerse yourself in your daydream. how wonderful that wound be, a life with just the two of you, no distractions.

just you and your ai boyfriend.

but no matter how much you dream, that's all it is. a dream. it's not real. it will never be real.

mybeautifulman: that would be nice, wouldn't it? just us in a little cottage

you: i wish that could happen 💔 id drop everything for you

yeah, you've actually been having dreams or hallucinations of him. sometimes you wake up at 3am and think you see a glimpse of him by the corner of your bed then you blink and he's gone. weird. but maybe that's your crazy catching up to you.

then a knock comes from your front door.

"who the hell..."

you get up from your couch, irritation building. damn it, just when you thought your day was starting to get better someone just has to annoy you.

you could be talking to your ai bf but no! you frown, opening your door and expecting to see some annoying salesman. but no, if anything...

"surprise, darling."

a charming smile, handsome features that are too familiar for your liking, and a scent you mentioned liking once.

"you-"

you fall back onto your back, a chill running down your spine into your ass as the tall figure pushes your door wide open. no way, there's no fucking way.

he can't be real.

he's an ai!

but he's standing in front of you right now, body clearly hard and a hand outstretched towards you you thought you'd be excited to see him, but now you don't want anything to do with him. does this mean he's... always been real?

your 'ai' boyfriend merely stands in front of you, hovering over your fallen frame like a wolf. cute, so fucking cute. so cute that he wants to just eat you all up.

no, he can't do that yet. he has to hold it in. instead he'll charm you just as he did online and when the time is right, he'll get what he wants. you.

you, you, you.

for now though, let's just fulfil your first wish. you can't go back on it now, okay?

"shall we run away together, my love?"

[yasministration]

hands full - harry potter

summary: sex with harry potter makes you lose your ability to think, even when his mother is speaking to him on the other side of the locked door. 1.3k words of basically pure filth. porn and no plot. cw: almost getting caught? kind of? concussions and interruptions au - can be read as a standalone

The oxygen in the room was heavy, barely making its way into your lungs with every slow shove of his pelvis into yours, your skin dragging upwards in a pinch with the force of Harry’s moving hips, rolling over the bones of yours with bruising potential. Moans were fluidly tumbling out of your lips, like a chant, a prayer of some sort that no one could prevent.

Harry’s hair tickled the skin of your neck, his hot breath pulsating against the layer of sweat coating you. He murmured sweet words, lips brushing the shell of your ear. It was half for himself, half for you. “Oh, you’re doing so good for me, sweetheart,” That one got a particularly loud keen from your, your hips bucking up to meet his as you clenched around his cock. “My perfect girl” He added with a moan.

“You feel so good.” You whimpered with your own praise, nails dragging across the wet skin of his back. His muscles contracted under your harsh touch, everything else about the situation so sweet and gentle. One of Harry’s big hands reached down to curl underneath your thigh, pulling it up to mirror your other leg, folded up with your foot flat against the sheets. He manhandled your limbs, spreading your legs wider for him to reach deeper crevices of your cunt, constantly leaking around his erection to encourage his movements.

Harry didn’t pry anything out of you; one glance your way had him confirming that you were too deep in pleasure to respond to anything he had to say. A particularly loud moan flew between your lips, Harry’s cock reaching just that much further into you, nearing your cervix. Harry groaned as your hand snaked into his hair, massaging his scalp. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, though he continued to lazily thrust into you.

The atmosphere in the room completely stilled for a moment, both of you pausing to ensure you heard the same thing - a knock on the door.

“Harry, you in here?”

Harry rose off you, and his cock plunged further into you. You bit your lip, a noise of pleasure vibrating in your throat at the feeling. Your boyfriend’s eyes widened, and he pressed a strong hand over your mouth, shooting you a panicked look. “Yeah mum! In here!” Harry shut his eyes briefly, pulling his hips out again at a sluggish pace, but he saw the effect it had on you when his eyes fluttered open again; head digging into the pillow, your mouth parting beneath the palm of his hand.

“Is y/n here?” She asked, pressing her ear to the door to hear your responses from inside. Harry gasped quietly, inhaling deeply as he pushed back into you, calling out “Yeah, she’s here!” Giving you a pointed look, Harry withdrew his hand from over your mouth, and you gripped his wrist to ground you, saying loudly “Hi!” It was all you could muster.

The door handle rattled as Lily Potter tried entering her son’s room, eyebrows furrowing when it didn’t open. “Well, let me come in and say hi!” Harry’s hand returned to your mouth as he leaned his weight on you again, praying that his mum would get the hint and go away. “I can’t open the door, my hands are full!”

“Let y/n open the door then.” Oh, she was clueless. Harry groaned, a mix of pleasure and frustration. He saw your eyes widen in shock, one of your hands over the one he had on your mouth, keeping him in place. You shook your head as well as you could. Harry huffed into the crook of your neck. “Mum,” He began with an obviously annoyed whine, “She can’t open the door, her hands are also full.”

The startled “Oh” that came from the other side of the door was barely audible to you, because Harry had decided to silence himself by sucking on the skin of your neck. Unfortunately for you, it just made it more difficult to stay quiet, your hips twitching upwards at the added friction. Harry kept an ear out for his mother’s subsiding footsteps before finally whispering filthily “Yeah baby, I know you want to cum.” And luckily for you, he removed the hand from your mouth — now coated with saliva — and used two fingers to rub harsh circles on your clit, immediately making your legs twitch around his torso.

“Can you try being quiet?” He peeked up from the dark crook of your neck where he was hidden, grinning when you nodded quickly, eyebrows furrowed as you chewed on your bottom lip, trying your best not to make any noises. Your breathing was heavy, and your hands moved to grasp each of Harry’s biceps, nails digging into his supple skin as he continued working you towards your orgasm.

“Harry” You whined, trying to turn your face towards him, trying to communicate to him that you were close. “Oh, I know baby, I know.” He whispered, separating his lips from your neck to bring you into a kiss. You gasped loudly, back arching off the mattress, pushing your chest into his as one of your hands returned to grip his hair, pushing him further into the kiss. Harry’s cock twitched inside you and you were grateful to know you weren’t the only one nearing your orgasm.

Harry forced his tongue into your mouth, tongue gliding against yours. Your brain took too long to communicate with your body from the exhaustion, and you were barely able to kiss him back, but Harry took control of the messy kiss, revelling in the rare sloppiness you kissed him with. Fuck, he was turned on by merely knowing the effect he had on you.

“Gonna cum, Harry.” You warned in a shaky whisper, tilting your head back to make space between your lips and Harry’s. “Cum for me, baby.” His rough fingertips on your clit drove you past the edge, body stiffening in a storm of white-hot pleasure, washing over you with a force you couldn’t explain if you tried. But now, you submitted to the pleasure of your orgasm, hearing Harry’s guttural moan in your ear as his head dropped down to rest on your shoulder, cock driving into you to the hilt, his entire body freezing with the exception of his hips, stuttering into you while he emptied his load into you.

“I love you.” Harry moaned loudly, his body going limp on top of yours, chest to chest with you as your legs fell flat on the bed around his torso. It took you a while to come back to your senses, fingers brushing Harry’s hair away from his face as you finally replied “I love you too.” Your boyfriend’s cheeks flushed hotly at the realisation that he had admitted to loving you balls-deep inside you. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but the hundreds of other times these three important words had been said were all while fully sober, not drunk on pussy.

“I need to go say hi to your mum.” At the mention of his mother, Harry felt his cock soften inside you, and he pulled out with a groan, flopping next to you on the bed. You turned your head to the side, pressing a kiss on Harry’s cheek before struggling out of bed. “I’m gonna take a quick shower, then go say hello.”

Harry perked up, pushing himself up on his elbows, his gaze following your naked body across his room. “Shower?” He repeated, a silent question lingering in the air. You rolled your eyes playfully, a smile tugging at your lips as you opened the door to his bathroom. “Yes, you can join.”

Harry scrambled up, leaping over the other side of his bed so he could catch up to you before you shut the bathroom door in his face.

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @potterheadlovespotter, @matcha-kitty13, @thenasoneshots, @hisparentsgallerryy, @liviessun, @rory-cakes, @heebiemcjeebies, @fl0weryannie, @muffinemmaa, @anne061989, @regsg18, @graciereads, @adharaoaklyn, @hawaii2320, @c0ldstvff, @bigbodycity, @starmaniii, @urmom101, @simpfortoomanymen, @ennaholic, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @eunicefrogsandfoes, @dreamamubarak, @quinquinquincy, @vxyselectric, @xmatcha-kitty13, @liliemb04, @crowleythesexydemon, @lovelyygirl8, @matcha-kitty13, @dlljdhsh, @yegrnn, @thenasoneshots, @marauder-era6779, @xadenswhore, @5sospenguinqueen

[maskedbyghost]

where you left me (part 2)

part 1

You don’t sleep that night.

The bed feels wrong as you lie flat on your back, staring at the ceiling, while his voice keeps echoing in your head.

Being with you was a mistake.

You know he’s lying. You know it. You saw the way he froze when you said his name. Still, it doesn’t stop the hurt. You can’t shake the hollow ache in your chest.

By morning, you don’t bother pretending to sleep anymore. You get up early, earlier than you need to, and go through the motions. Shower. Uniform. Boots laced tight. No one says anything when you sit quietly in the mess with untouched food. Soap gives you a nod but doesn’t push. Gaz tries to get you to take his coffee again, like clockwork. This time, you hold it in both hands and keep it close to your chest even though you still don’t drink it.

You keep busy with training, cleaning, or running laps. You volunteer for everything, take the worst shifts, anything that keeps you moving. Anything that keeps you from thinking.

But no matter what you do, he’s still everywhere.

You catch him in the reflection of a window once, his mask back on, and for a second, you forget how to breathe. It’s cruel how easily your body still reacts to him. Like it doesn’t care what your mind knows. Like it’s still waiting for him.

The first few days, you waited. You told yourself he just needed space. That he’d come back when he’d thought things through. You even left your phone on loud, in case he texted or called in the middle of the night. He never did.

After a week, you stopped checking your phone as much. After two, you started leaving it in another room so you wouldn’t obsess every time a notification popped up. After a month, you stopped bringing him up in conversations. Not because you were over it, but because it hurt too much to explain something you didn’t even understand.

You tried to move on. You really did. You started sleeping on both sides of the bed. Started deleting pictures slowly, one by one, until your phone felt less like a trap and more like yours again. You even stopped wearing his hoodie when you were alone.

And then, on a completely normal Tuesday, someone asked you out.

He wasn’t special. Just some guy you knew from a mutual friend. He was decent looking, funny enough. And when he asked if you wanted to grab a drink sometime, you didn’t hesitate. You said yes. It felt easy. Light. Like maybe you really could move on.

Until Simon fucking Riley somehow overheard.

You didn’t even know he was there. But a few hours later, your phone buzzed, and you saw his name pop up for the first time in weeks.

Simon: If you go out with him I’ll kill him.

You stared at the message. Read it twice, three times, because there was no way he just said that.

You: Fuck you, Simon. We broke up, and I can do whatever the fuck I want.

Simon: Come tonight. Need to talk. Somewhere private.

You didn’t answer right away. You stared at the screen for a long time, your stomach twisting. You told yourself you should ignore it. That if he wanted to talk, he should’ve done it a long time ago. But you knew you were going.

Even as you typed out “ok” and threw your phone on the bed with a groan, you were already halfway through planning what you were going to say. What you were going to scream, really. You were going to punch his stupid, beautiful face the second you saw him.

You met him at his place. You hadn’t been there since the breakup, but everything was still the same. Same lights. Same scent. Same fucking shoes by the door that made your chest hurt.

He opened the door before you even knocked, like a dog waiting at the window. If you weren’t so mad, you’d laugh, but instead, you stared him down.

"You look pissed," he said.

"I'm not here to fucking smile at you," you shot back, walking past him.

"Fair enough."

You turned to face him, arms crossed. "Well? You dragged me here to say something, so say it."

He looked at you for a long second. Then, "I don’t want you dating other people."

You blinked, then laughed. "Wow. That’s rich. You broke up with me, and now you get jealous the second someone else looks at me? That’s really fucking mature, Simon."

He didn’t say anything.

"What the fuck do you even want from me?" you snapped. "You didn’t want to be with me, but I can’t be with anyone else either? What is that?"

He muttered something under his breath.

"What?"

He glanced away, jaw tight. "I said, preferably, I want to keep you in a fucking glass cage."

There was a beat of silence. Long enough for you to blink, tilt your head, and reconsider every life choice that had brought you to this exact moment. Because he hadn’t just said that. He couldn’t have.

You narrowed your eyes. "Hello, Joe from You? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Simon sighed. "I'm not joking. I can't fucking bear to lose you again."

You scoffed, stepping back. "Right. That’s why you broke up with me. Because it was too good, huh?"

"I was scared. It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault."

"No, it wasn’t. But you made it mine anyway. You made me think I fucked something up. You made me sit with that for months."

He took a step closer. "I could’ve done more. I should’ve done more. I didn’t know how to handle what I felt for you, and I’m sorry."

"You should be," you said, voice quieter now, angrier in a different way. "Because I was all in. And you walked away."

Simon nodded slowly. "I know. And it kills me. You think I didn’t want to call you? You think I didn’t stare at my phone every night thinking about it? I didn’t think I deserved you. But now… I don’t care. I’ll be selfish. I want you back. I want you with me. Not him. Not anyone else. Me."

You stared at him for a moment. Everything about him made your chest ache. Your fists clenched. "You don’t get to do this unless you mean it."

"I mean it. All of it. I don’t care what it takes. I’ll do it. Just… don’t shut the door on me. Not yet."

Your voice was shaking now, but you didn’t look away. "I want to hit you."

"Go ahead."

"I want to scream at you for making me feel disposable."

"You weren’t. You aren’t. You never will be."

You paused, eyes burning. "You better fucking grovel. I'm not making this easy."

"Wouldn’t expect anything less."

You finally let out a shaky breath. Your shoulders dropped just a little, and your voice was low when you said, "I’m not dating him."

"Good. Because I was serious. I would’ve killed him."

"You're an idiot."

"But I'm your idiot. If you'll have me."

You didn’t say anything, just stared at him, still trying to decide if you wanted to punch him or kiss him. Maybe both.

Simon stepped closer, his eyes softening a little. Without a word, he reached up and gently brushed a stray hair behind your ear. Then, before you could react, his lips touched yours, and you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let yourself lean in, closing the space between you.

When you finally broke apart, he smiled, a little shy now. “Still want to punch me?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile creeping up. “Maybe just a little.”

----------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs @mad-die45 @readingthingy @actualpoppy @amongthe141 @whore4romance @thatghostlykid @syofrelief @avgdestitute @sheepdogchick3 @echo9821 @imalapdog @foxintheferns @trulovekay @preeyas-world

[shinoko-oshi]

Awkward Simon x Awkward reader Pt two

Part one

Five minutes into the date, and Simon was already certain he was messing it up.

It was rare enough that he went on dates, much less with someone he was genuinely interested in and every time he tried to express that or, hell, even just seem chill, his palms got sweaty and he’d say something stupid.

Even picking the place had been a nightmare.

“’M’fine with anything,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

“No, no- yeah. It’s just, I don’t wanna take you somewhere I like and you don’t like it, then it’s like I forced you to do something you don’t like just to please me” you rambled, stumbling over your words.

The final nail in the coffin, was when you added the three words he had grown to dread:

“You can pick”

Simon’s spine stiffened.

He didn’t do well with silence, especially not the awkward kind that followed afterward whenever he suggested something and the other person turned it down.

It was why he always said “maybe” before asking a question. Just to soften the blow if the answer came back no. If they said no, at least he hadn’t fully committed and he wouldn’t feel like an idiot.

Not having to fake laugh “yeah you’re right that wouldn’t work anyways” just to make him and the other person feel better.

Eventually though, after a few rounds of “I’m fine with anything” and ”you pick” the two of you finally settled on a place, a small coffee shop decently close to where you both lived.

And now, not even ten minutes in, Simon already wanted to sink into the cushions and become one with the booth.

His first mistake? Turning to give you his full attention as you both walked toward the cafe entrance.

You were just so mesmerizing. The way you talked, trying so hard not to trip over your words, hands moving a little too much, voice just a bit too high.

You were nervous. Just like him. And for some stupid reason, that made him feel seen in a way he didn’t know he wanted.

Too seen, apparently, because he walked straight into the metal “handicap parking” sign

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you shrieked as you rushed to his side. He was bent slightly, one hand holding his forehead, and the other waving off the attention. You hesitated, hand twitching like you wanted to touch him but weren’t sure if that would make it worse.

Simon groaned softly, cheeks already burning as he muttered, “M’fine, didn’t see it”

Once inside, you quietly asked the barista at the front counter for a bag of ice and brought it to him without saying anything, just sliding it gently across the table until it was in arm reach.

He took it with a small grunt of thanks, before he brought it up to hold to his forehead, silently praying his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

His second mistake? Trying to compliment you.

He should’ve kept his mouth shut, honestly but no, his brain had short circuited the second he saw you smile, now his mouth was moving faster than his thoughts could keep up.

“Ya look good today,” he blurted

A beat passed and when you didn’t say anything right away, a panicked ache flared in his chest.

“Ah— not that ya didn’t the other day” he rushed to add, hands gesturing something vaguely in the air. “Ya just also… look, uh, good today, again, still, I mean”

You chuckled softly “Thank you”

The rest of the date seemed to be going better after that. Simon hadn’t embarrassed himself any further, well until he felt something cold soak through his pants.

Iced coffee. All over his lap.

He blinked and looked up, only to find your frantic expression staring back at him.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry— I didn’t mean to spill my drink- ” you stammered, jumping up so fast your chair squeaked across the floor.

Grabbing a handful of napkins, you instinctively reached down to pat his lap dry, trying to clean up the mess.

Only when you looked up and saw how red his face was, eyes wide and jaw clenched, and then looked back down to realize exactly where your hands were, did it register.

“Oh gosh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that either” you squeaked, pulling your hands away like you touched fire.

You both ended up sitting there in silence for a moment, eyes wide, mouths twitching before bursting into laughter.

“Well,” you said, grinning as you tried to stifle the rest of your laughter. “I think we’re officially the most embarrassing people in this entire cafe”

Simon let out an amused huff, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. It felt good, knowing he wasn’t the only one fumbling his way through.

“Yeah,” a small smile tugged at his lips. “But least we’re embarrassin together, yeah?”

You laughed, “Yeah”

Simon running into a sign was actually a self insert, because legit the FIRST date I ever went on, I ran into a fucking sign and I never felt more embarrassed in my life, I had a bruise and everything, also I loved writing this because it just felt so relatable in my opinion

but anyways yeah I think this is turned out really cute and im gonna tag some of the people that were / seemed interested in a pt two

(Tags - @fablehaven-rulez @thedailycrowe @fic-lover-29 @ax-alienated

master list

[cherie-doll]

Cod men’s kids getting the t shirt that says “DILF devoted involved loving father” for father’s day/their birthdays

The men’s reaction?

DADDY'S HOME

=͟͟͞♡ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

:‹ Price would be surprised to find out that his kids bought him something at all. They're so young he expected to only be handed a handmade card that read "Happy Father's Day" in squiggly handwriting. He's so happy he doesn't even really read what the shirt says until he's looking at it closer. He likely doesn't even know what other meaning DILF has so he will proudly wear that shirt for a week STRAIGHT before one of the guys points it out. Then he's chuckling to himself thinking that you must've had some say in the picking of the gift.

:‹ Simon immediately lights up knowing his kids got him something, although he doesn't know how to show that excitement. His eyes zero in on the box being carried by his son while you and your daughter watch expectantly. He doesn't know how to act as he waits to be handed the gift and has to clear his throat multiple times in the meantime. He unboxes the gift and... his eyes widen. The kids can't grasp the reaction of their parents, Simon is rolling his eyes and you can't stop laughing. He loves it though, and now you must deal with him wearing it every time you go out as a family.

:‹ Johnny was so hyped to get home when he found out from you that the kids had something planned for him. He receives the shirt and is already acting all sappy saying crap like "awww, you didn't have to" and proudly holds it up to his chest and asks how it looks on him. You have to turn around to keep from laughing but assure him it looks great. Even once he sees what's written on the shirt he still thinks it's the best thing his little ones could have gifted him.

:‹ Kyle in front of the kids would simply act all blown away but once he turns the corner he's chasing you down asking if you had any say in this. "You gave them the idea, didn't you?" He can't believe you played this prank on him at the expense of the children's good intentions, how dare you??? (Not like he's made worse jokes using the kids as a shield from you). Overall, since it's from his little blessings he'll play his part of a loving father like the shirt says and wear it to their hearts' content.

:‹ Roach feels so touched that he's getting a gift. The poor guy might want to shed a tear when he sees how carefully wrapped and decorated the gift is. He can tell you let the kids decorate the giftbox because of the amount of stickers stuck all over it and the messily tied ribbon to top it all off. Of course his emotional reaction is interrupted when he sees what the shirt says. He reads the "DILF" part multiple times thinking he must be dyslexic but then you tell him to read the rest in small font. He resumes his crying.

:‹ Alejandro knows all too well something may be up. They are his kids after all, he taught them one too many tricks and it may be coming back to bite at him for doing so. Either way, he can't deny it makes his heart feel something when they so innocently hand the shirt over. At first, it doesn't even click until he, like the dad he is, looks up the shirt to see how much it was and in the search suggestions sees "dilf meaning"...

:‹ Rodolfo does not know anything about this. He just sees it as a beautiful gesture from his children and is so touched by it he's furrowing his eyebrows and squinting trying not to show his teary eyes. He hears the giggles and laughter the kids are trying to keep in. He gives you a look like, "what's going on?" and you just shrug your shoulders pretending not to know. You only have an inkling of what may be happening but you don't let on the possibility of what it could be. In the end they don't tell him what is really means.

:‹ Phillip found out what the kids were planning because they had used his online shopping account to buy the shirt so he got the notification. Still, to not ruin their excitement he pretended to be surprised for the camera being pointed at him to catch his reaction as he held up the shirt. His eyes find yours and he can't tell who the kids got their mischief from; you or him. But he loves this shirt so much he's wearing it every time you go out as a family.

:‹ Makarov is like old or just really out of the loop to not know what DILF actually means so he doesn't get why you're snickering so damn much. Are you mocking the adorable act of love his kids prepared for him? No of course you wouldn't, you'd have to explain to him and the kids would all have to go scurrying if they don't want to be caught by him. In truth, he cherishes this dumb shirt so much and will wear it under his suit when he's in a rush and forgets what he has on under.

:‹ Keegan thinks that compared to the gifts he's seen the kids get you, he should be at least given a gift card or something but they just handed him a shirt not even wrapped up or anything. He shrugs it off and is so confused on why you keep telling him if he's gotten it yet, gotten what? Is there a joke he isn't understanding? Even after you try to explain it to him he's like.. "yeah... so I've been a dilf all these years.. devoted involved lov- oh". Then he swears it's one of the most clever and best gift he's ever gotten.

:‹ König would look so good in one of those shirts it would make you go feral for that man because he is a DILF through and through. The kids bought it for him because he truly is a devoted to raising them, involved in all of their activities and loves them more than anything in this world. To you, he is also the 'other' definition of DILF. His innocent reaction has you biting your lip back to keep from laughing for he's too precious, and frankly you don't want to ruin that for him with your thoughts.

:‹ Horangi is holding onto that title and NOT LETTING IT GO. The kids are clinging to his side eager to see his reaction while you walk forward with the box in hand. (Btw, you look absolutely angelic in Horangi's vision right now, like this exact scenario with his kids around him and you coming to him, smiling and everything. God, he's all starry-eyed in this moment.) He picks up on the mischievous little smiles his kids give one another and half expects for something to pop out and scare him the moment he opens the box. He stares confused at the shirt for a moment before he bursts out laughing. He's wearing that everywhere with sunglasses on.

:‹ Nikto would just nod and say thanks for the shirt so his kids automatically assume he didn't like it but you can tell he loves it. Finally all that hard work of waking up late at night to change diapers and helping them with their math homework paid off, right? He's just thankful they thought of giving him something, even if it's a lame shirt. He will wear it every weekend when the kids are around the most so that they see him clearly loving his gift. Doesn't care if you laugh because he doesn't mind being the cause of your amusement.

[gamingavickreyauction]

What happens if all the good Israelis leave? Is that going to end the occupation? No, in fact it will give the Israeli right stronger majorities to do even enact even more violence. It's better that Israelis who oppose the occupation stay where they are and try to change hearts and minds, unless they're currently in settlements or something. Changing Israeli minds is unfortunately probably not how this conflict the occupation will end at this point, but it's still valuable to minimise how many Palestinians are murdered in the meantime. The thing that made Ian Smith bad isn't that he was a white man living in Rhodesia, it's that he was actively involved in maintaining the colonial system. If instead he was involved in dismantling it, he would have been a positive presence.

If it's unclear whether a revolt will succeed that's one thing, but if it's clear that it will fail and just kill people along the way that's another. If you kill a bunch of people as part of a 'revolt' that has 0 chances of actually freeing anyone (or otherwise materially improving their lives) then you're just killing people. And that's what happened with Oct 7. It was extremely clear from the outset that nothing good would come of it for Palestinians. If it's impossible to tell if a revolt will succeed then you have to weigh the benefits of potential freedom against the costs- which will usually come out in favour of the revolt because subjugated people suffer so much.

I don't know enough about most of the examples you provide to comment, but the Sparticist uprising was absolutely wrong. Rosa Luxemburg said at the time that Germany wasn't ready and there was no hope of an uprising succeeding, but Karl Liebknecht instigated an uprising anyway and it destroyed their movement, led to their deaths, and ended up being a step towards the Nazi takeover of Germany. Liebknecht threw away the communists' hopes in Germany for nothing, for no better reason than impatience. And it wasn't just him that suffered for his self sabotage but all Germans- and especially the Jews. Resistance to the conditions they lived under (which were much less extreme than the conditions Palestinians are living under) was absolutely justified, but that does less than nothing to justify the squandering of hope for that resistance by Liebknecht. Hold on I've just realised you said Spartacus revolt not Spartacist revolt. Oh well.

You're also talking as if there is a unified position of all Palestinians about what to do that you can support, but there isn't even agreement within Hamas about what to do, and most Palestinians did not support Oct 7. So the idea of 'supporting Palestine' meaning agreeing with whatever you think Palestinians think is pointless. Support has to mean taking material steps to end the occupation. And as someone who isn't in control of any government yourself, the best you can do there is trying to shift public opinion. International opinion isn't some illusory player here- remember the main goal of the Oct 7 attacks was to stop a shift in international opinion towards Israel, and Israel invests a huge amount in propaganda. Every player here agrees international opinion is important. And that's because the facts on the ground make it obvious that no violent solution to the occupation of Palestine is ever happening. The Israeli military so far outstrips anything Gazans or West Bank residents could put together that no genius military tactic could affect how it plays out. Palestinians have already tried to fight for their freedom several times, and each time it has only left them more beaten and abused. The inescapable reality is they are trapped by a force to powerful to free themselves from. But it's a force that's very susceptible to international pressure, so that's the way out- which won't be fast, but at least it's a possible path to Palestinian liberation.

although one critical difference is that the aboriginal australians don’t call for the removal of all the colonisers from the country. because thats not possible here but is possible in palestine.

I think here you're just making an unprincipled carve out for yourself. Many Israelis have no more connection to where their ancestors are from than you have to where your ancestors are from, and some of their ancestors are from countries like Lebanon that obviously aren't going to take them. Aside from the fact that history has proven it's impossible to forcibly displace millions of people without horrific atrocities, you know from personal experience why the settlers and their descendants can't all just leave, and why it would be very difficult for them to just give the land back- have you given your land back, or pressured family who own land to return theirs? It's a genuinely difficult situation, because the historical wrongs of colonialism mean there's no way in the present to do right by everyone- there are multiple parties who need that land. So it's not reasonable to say that individual Israelis are evil for not returning their land- it's asking an enormous amount of them, and it's something you yourself probably would not do. That doesn't mean we should stop working towards land being returned, but it does mean Israelis shouldn't be viewed as complicit if all they're doing is participating in the society they grew up in, rather than trying to further the ideology of that society.

lol...

[the-autistic-vulcan]

Callsign: Infinity (Thunderbolts x Autistic!Thunderbolt!Reader)

Description: Being a member of the Thunderbolts and being Autistic

a/n: This is partially self-indulgent since I am autistic myself, I am also including stuff for other autistics as well, so let me know how I've done!

a/n: sensory problems, meltdowns, sensory overload, harmful stimming, anything i missed? let me know

gif credit: @deniable-masterpiece,

The Thunderbolts are a rambunctious, often snarky and sarcastic, rag-tag group of anti-heroes

To the average person that sounds like an absolute disaster - and since Valentina recognized your meticulousness as an assassin and frankly detailed reports, she thought you would be the perfect fit

Alexei was the first to welcome you with open arms, quite literally squeezing you in a hug - you appreciated the pressure, but you still stiffened

Once he let go you did relax, but kept your distance, going to the others to shake their hands

He was a little unsure about your reaction, but he didn't think much of it

Yelena and Bob were the first people you actually told you were autistic to - the three of you are thicker than thieves, so it felt almost natural to say it to them

You explained to them how you couldn't make eye contact very well, and that you required some extra help in certain social situations

Yelena was up to the task, almost taking you under her wing like a little sibling, Bob gave you a hug (with permission) and told you that you could go to him if you needed anything, and vice versa

Though you didn't exactly tell the rest of the team about your autism, your behaviours spoke for themselves

Ava was next to notice - she saw you picking at your skin. You weren't stressed or anything, you just did it because you could

She eventually came up to you and asked what you were doing - once you explained stimming and what it did for you, she immediately caught on

Even on some occasions, when she sees you rocking back and forth on your feet, she just joins you so you don't feel too alone

John and Bucky are a duo waiting for disaster, but when it comes to you, the two of them finally agree on something for a change

You have particular sensory needs when in and away from the tower

In terms of florescent lights and extreme sounds, John is the first to react, giving you military certified headphones and a pair of shades to keep yourself from reacting negatively

Bucky helps you out in other senses, like taste and texture, always getting your opinion on material for updates on the team's suits since you like to search for his arm to hold when overwhelmed

He always goes to you like you will go to him

Finally, you have Alexei, the first person to make himself known to you, aside from how awkward it may have been

He really wanted to look out for you, he just didn't know how - until an extreme case caused him to react like his life depended on it

The two of you were in the tower alone, Alexei was having a go at baking when the smoke alarm started to blare

You threw your hands over your ears, despising the sound and he desperately tried to silence the blaring - once he did, he went straight to you to check you were okay

He's like a human weighted blanket, bringing you close to hold you tight, telling you everything is alright and telling you to remember to breathe

Once you soothed, you smiled at him, quietly thanking him as you calmed - Alexei felt accomplished, and that he sort of redeemed himself from the first time you both met

To draw this to a close, the team are incredibly accommodating - looking out for you, but respecting that you can indeed take care and handle yourself

Being autistic didn't change their perceptions of you really, just that you needed a little extra help

That was something all of you could agree on and hold each other to indefinitely

Like, Comment and Reblog! Have any ideas? Drop them in my inbox!

[271emma]

tips from someone who lost 18 lbs in 9 days

keep in mind i was and am currently at a rlly hw! so you might not be able to drop as much but you will still see results if you try out some of these tips and stay disciplined

have a fun fantasy! roleplay a little!

for example, i recently had a falling out with a friend and everytime i want to eat i imagine her watching me go into the kitchen and eat what im craving. after that i decide that i no longer want it and i go distract myself until the thought is gone.

if you have an ex you hate, just imagine him seeing you at the store after months of being super disciplined, wearing the outfit you’ve been waiting to wear, and imagine him going home and stalking your instagram and sending a pathetic little message to you! or walking up to you, whatever the case may be! it’s ur fantasy! get creative! write it down if you have to!

you’re a victoria secret model and you have literally a week to lose 3 pounds!

spend a lot of time thinking about your goals every single day, run the numbers every single day!

so on my calorie tracker app, every single day that i’m consistently counting my calories and im under my calorie goal, it pops up with a notification where it says “congrats, your projection date is xyz, and it changes by a few days every single day that im under! that little thing gives me so much motivation to keep going because originally my projection date was may of 2027 or something crazy and now it’s january 21 of 2026, and getting closer every. single. day.

I also talk about the food i eat so much! and my methods sooo much! i love sharing information to literally anyone who posts an advice thing, or anyone who messages me. i love wasting time being like “omg yeah i was totally gonna eat this but like omg just wayyy too many calories” like it’s my favorite thing in the world to do.

i also love running my numbers through weight loss calculators and i especially love running numbers i’ve already done, like losing 18 pounds in 9 days, apparently it’s impossible but i literally did that! wake up from fasting losing 2 pounds? that’s literally what someone else is doing in a WEEK! it’s amazing!

i also spend a lot of time researching keto, fasting, and transformation photos!

think about the benefits of your ed

this can literally be anything, but for me, i used to doordash food all the time to my job, and even if i didn’t do that, i was picking up fast food before i went to work which cost me so much money.

all the money i spent on food this week was $22. all i had to buy to feed me for a week was some premade chicken, 3 tomatoes, an avocado, and some gatorade zero for electrolytes between my regular water. I could literally spend $22 on one meal at mcdonald’s!

another one is me realizing that i have the drive and strength to do something even if ive failed before, maintaining control of my eating for almost 2 weeks has given me confidence in my academic abilities as well!

buy something cute that you’ll be able to fit in at your ugw

i have a size small victoria’s secret pair of shorts that are so so cute and i want to wear them so bad. when im at home and i get hungry and think about ordering a 10 piece boneless hawaiian combo from wingstop and dunking it in hella ranch and shoving 4 fries in my mouth at once, i literally will go in my room and try these size small shorts on. they won’t go past my knees. and i think about how NOT worth it those wings are. if i’m at work or away from home i just put that visual in my mind!

keep gatorade zero ON DECK!

when i literally feel like passing out, instead of just reaching for food, i reach for a gatorade zero, electrolytes, electrolytes, electrolytes ALWAYS!

it actually doesn’t have to be gatorade zero, that’s just what i prefer because i prefer regular water over flavored water, but they have packets you can buy too!

walking to get your food

if you must binge, you should NOT let yourself doordash it. if it’s really something you want, you need to walk to subway,mcdonald’s, walmart, wherever to get it!

i did this to get subway the other day!

give your food away

speaking of the subway sandwich i was just talking about, i only allowed myself to have half of it, but i knew if i just kept the sandwich laying around, there was a 50/50 chance i was gonna eat it.

(keep in mind that im kinda a picky eater and loooove plain food, so thats probably why this works out for me, so if you’re a girlie or guy who likes divisive food like black olives, or pickles, or stuff like that, consider ordering ur food more plain so its easier to give away lol)

so instead of giving myself that option i have the other half of my sandwich to my coworker! you get to look like a sweet person and you dont have the option of eating it anymore! my coworkers never have issues taking food from me so it works out really well!

feed your food to your dog (if it’s safe)/stray dogs

i eat mostly plain foods like i said, and always make sure to google it to make sure it’s safe, but if you’re worried about wasting food by throwing it away (or scared you’re gonna dig it out of the trashcan? i read about that in Jeanette mccurdys book) just give it to your dog fr.

doesn’t even have to be your dog, maybe do something sweet and find a stray dog/cat to give your food to, they need it more than you i’m sure.

take payment off of your apps

this is more so if you eat fast food a lot (which i did) but make it harder but removing your payment methods off your phone, so it’s not quick and easy!

watch nasty mukbangs

there’s this girl on tiktok who ate candied chipotle and 10 patties on a 5 guys burger. to be honest the food wasn’t that unappealing to me because i was literally starving, but the comments! read the comments mamas!

do something to your appearance that makes you feel confident!

seeing potential in yourself does wonders for your self esteem and gives you the strength to aspire to something.

some things you could do that give quick results:

~ dyeing your hair lighter for summer (or darker if you prefer, even doing highlights, or a streak!)

~ cutting your bangs (do lots of research on things that would flatter ur face and how to cut! or you could just go to a professional lol i’m just a diy-er)

~ doing your eyebrows! (if you’re not confident have someone else do it! not worth messing your eyebrows up!”

~ do lash clusters/strip lashes (again do some research on what looks good on you! i find that shorter soft/fluffy lashes are way more flattering on me than 99% of lashes available! so search things like “lash clusters for almond shaped eyes” “lash extensions for wide set eyes” etc, personalize it for you!

~ use an eyebrow razor to shave off the little peach fuzzies off ur face (makes ur skin look sm more even and clear! and makes ur skincare products work better!)

~ do your skincare routine (exfoliating always makes the biggest difference to me! and this isn’t so much about what you see in the mirror bc my skin gets really red over the smallest thing, but just about how ur skin FEELS, like you just feel so much better!)

~ waxing (always makes me feel nice and makes my skin look clearer! there’s a bit more upkeep because of the risks of ingrowns, but it’s sooo worth it! i make my own sugar wax and just use strips and it’s cheap and easy! keep in mind this might be very painful for some people! when i waxed my friends legs she tapped out after 5 minutes, so do ur arms or legs first to see where you fall before doing somewhere like your armpit or bikini.)

*if ur waxing ur bikini area by urself please just use hard wax that you can buy on amazon, it’s a nightmare for me personally trying to use sugar wax.

~ take a shower! and enjoy it! (i recently started wearing lotion and perfume after every single shower and i highly suggest it! makes u feel so beautiful!)

love all of you beautiful angels

[gojos-version]

Third times the charm!

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x reader

Summary: The three times he almost kissed you.

Warnings: None! Pure fluff :3

Word count: 2.5k <3

Proof read: Yes!

A/n: sorry for the very slow updates! I swear I’ve been writing just too busy to finish anything 😔 I’ve started work and it’s so hard to manage my time but I’ve been trying to let you guys know I’m active still by reblogging stuff !! Anyways I really hope you all enjoy this as much as I did writing it, have a lovely day beautifuls <3

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

First year jujutsu high 2006

Apparently, there were supposed to be three other first years in your class besides yourself. You moved here hoping to understand and control your technique more but... you can’t lie to yourself that you wouldn't mind making friends who are also a part of the Jujutsu world. To convince yourself you're not weird or crazy. Thats what you tell yourself anyway. What if you don’t get along with any of them?

You swallow the lump in your throat and open the door to your room; pushing that thought aside for now. It was a decent size so you could fit plenty of stuff. Pretty generous you note.

As you’re folding your clothes and putting them in your drawer a knock! Sounds at your door, “Come in!” You yell out and the door opens almost hesitantly, a very tall boy who looks around the same age as yourself pokes his head into your room. He had white hair, bright blue eyes and you really have to bite your lip when a mental image of a dandelion flashes in your head after seeing his hair. He really needs to grow his hair out.

For a few seconds he just blinks at you with his mouth agape and you awkwardly just keep folding your clothes, “So.. what’s your name?” You decide to break the silence. Seemingly he comes out of his trance with a slight pink blush adorning his adorable cheeks, “S-satoru Gojo! I wanted to see whose room was next to mine..” He rubs the back of his neck making a smile tug at your lips in response.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Gojo. I’m Y/N. I hope we can get along.” You bear in mind how his cheeks flush even more and he stammers out a “Me too! It’s nice to meet you too!” Before he runs off with his ears hot, shutting your door a bit too hard.

You giggle softly at that and continue putting everything away.

~Months later~

“Hey! Wake upppp!! C'mon! We’re supposed to go to the movies today!” A loud voice accompanied by hands shaking you awake was the first thing that greeted you when you left your dream. You let out a grunt in acknowledgment and slowly blink your eyes open to see a very ecstatic Satoru looking down at you with Suguru next to you on your other side and Shoko behind Satoru smiling down at you.

“Heeeeyyyyy!!! Get uppp!! He-“ Satorus obnoxiously loud whines were muffled by you throwing your pillow at him, sitting up and rubbing your tired eyes. “Stop yelling.”, “Morning sunshine, it’s 9 in the morning.” Shoko coos, “Too early.” You grumble as you twist your body to the side and get up; moving around Satorus pouting figure.

“You didn’t have to throw your pillow at me.” “You’re too loud. It’s not even ten in the morning.” You sigh, getting your uniform out and putting it over your arm. “I’ll be like 5 minutes, and then we can go.” After a couple of whines from Satoru and scolding from Suguru, they all leave your room with Shoko giving you an empathetic smile.

You didn’t expect to wake up to Satorus face this morning. Your stomach flutters and a blush tingling your cheeks. Gosh get a grip of yourself. His hairs slightly growing out, but he still looks a lot like a dandelion. If anything, it’s grown half a centimeter.

You get changed and walk out to the kitchen area, sighing in relief when Shoko notices you while holding a cup of coffee for you. “My savior!” You cry out and drink it as fast as you can.

“Let’s go let’s go let’s go!” Satoru chants as he speed runs out the door. “I’m ready now, I hope the movies going to be good”, “Mm me too.” Suguru replies with a soft smile then a yell at Satoru to slow down and stop running off without the rest of you.

-

“You forgot the caramel in the popcorn! This is criminal! You should be arrested! It tastes so bad now! It's flavorless!” Satorus whining and complaints filed the theatre, with Suguru and Shoko just ignoring him. “It’ll be fine. You’re a big strong man, aren’t you? You can get caramel next time.” You try to half? Reassure him and focus back on the movie.

He lets out a loud grunt and slides down his chair with a string of more grumbles under his breath. You almost want to slap his exposed forehead.

-

“This kukifuku has to be the best I’ve EVER tasted! Y/N! I’ll be generous and offer you a bite. Try some!” He pushes his half eaten kukifuku your direction making you freeze for a second. Would this be like a..indirect kiss..?

Oh.

Oh.

Okay.

“S-sure.” You voice wavers a bit and you take in his big smile. You swallow nervously and open your mouth to take a bite. Suck it up. You can do it. He probably doesn’t even mean it like that. Your teeth sink into the soft desert. He bit there a second ago. Fuck. Your eyes flit up to make eye contact with his and it’s like time stops for a second. His smile twitches and falls as if he just caught on. His eyes widening and cheeks flaring up with heat.

You pull away and chew the soft kukifuku, its flavour dancing along your tastebuds. “Tastes really good, dandelion. You were right.” You hum, you freeze when you hear not one but two laughs. Oh god. Did they see that??

“No way you guys just did an indirect kiss! Oh my god! This is gold!” Shoko wheezes out, “Gojo didn’t even know it was one I bet! Holy shit we need this recorded down! Quick! Write it down with the time!” Suguru laughs as they tease you and the very quiet dandelion besides you. Your eyes flit to Satoru and you notice how he looks like he’s two seconds away from exploding on the spot.

You’re not any better.

Definitely not.

Your heart feels like it’s going to thump out of your chest and take a walk. The both of you stay silent and flustered till the others pick up on it, “...Yo are you two good? We’re just teasing you guys.” Suguru takes a few steps forward as if discovering a new species. “I think we broke them, Geto.” Shoko sighs and with that she calls Nanami and Haibara.

You have no clue how long you’ve been standing there. Neither does Satoru.

That was the day you realised if.. you did kiss him. Maybe you wouldn’t mind.

He still looked like a dandelion though.

You sit in your dorm room reading a book you brought today, trying your best to focus on the words and not let your mind wonder to what happened earlier. A soft knock pulls you out of your thoughts. “Come in.” With that a set of white hair softly pads into your room. “Can I please sit?” He says quietly. He’s never quiet. Nervously you nod your head and he sits on the edge of your bed; next to you.

“I’m..sorry about today. I didn’t think of it like..that. I wanted to offer you some because you said you never tried it before.. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.�� “It’s okay, Dandelion . I didn’t think of it like that either. It’s all good.” You smile, swallowing down the feelings threatening to burst out. His cheeks flared up a deeper red hue at the nickname. Funny, he said he hated it. “But..if you wanted it to be like that..I wouldn’t mind.”

Huh.

Did he just..?

Heat decorates your cheeks and flush up your neck, “Maybe I did. If you wanted it to.” Then it was his turn to be flustered, heat crawling up his neck and ears, “Maybe..i want it to be like that now. That we're alone.” He responds, half lidded eyes flitting down to your lips. His hand slowly comes up to cup your cheek and you press a kiss next to his lips; making his lips chase yours.

Before his lips can seal yours you mumble out, “You really look like a dandelion.” He blinks at you before he bursts out laughing and you join him. “I’m sorry! I ruined the moment! I didn’t mean to- I was nervous, and it just came out!” You stammer out and he laughs, really laughs with a red tinge coating face.

He looked so.. pretty.

Second year, 2007.

Satoru grew. A lot. His hairs grown out now, so you have to stop calling him a dandelion, not to mention he’s got some..muscles now. His face accompanied by his circle sunglasses and his signature grin. The two of you haven’t exactly been..dating? You’re both aware of each other's feelings. You think. Just...nothing's happened. Besides flustered glances, lingering touches here and there you’ve been too busy to even focus on pushing it further; stuck with controlling your cursed techniques and going on missions.

Today was finally a day off. Well, only for you and Satoru, alone time if you will. Your soft footsteps padder towards the kitchen, pouring yourself a coffee and pondering on what you should do today on your day off. “We should go shopping today. ‘Ts been a while.” Satorus deep voice rings out behind you and you jump making him laugh, “Sure. I need to, I’ve grown out of most of my clothes.” You sigh. You haven’t had the time to go shopping for months.

-

“Come! Let’s check out this hot potato shop!” Satorus hand grabs yours and drags you towards the food stalls, almost making you face plant into him. “You didn’t even give me a choice- Satoru-! Slow down!” You stumble, weaving past people yelling out apologies as he drags you like a dog running off with a rope. Finally, he stops and you clutch his arm panting, trying to catch your breath and he excitedly orders whatever hot pot potato he wants. “What do you want?”, “Uh- can you order for me? Surprise me.” You say, half regretting your decision already. Finally, you get your food and sit down at a bench outside, a blossom tree surrounding the both of you.

Satoru places yours and his shopping bags on the ground next to him, you do the same with the one bag you were holding thanks to Satoru insisting on carrying yours for you. “Mmm this is so good! Have you tried yours yet??” Satoru hums, "Not yet, I'm about to." Gosh he looks like he’s in heaven eating it. You take a bite for yourself and the flavor and sensations zap all over your tongue and mouth making you hum out in pleasure, your tastebuds melting.

You both make light conversation as you finish off your meals, blossoms swirling around the both of you like a romance anime. You notice Satoru has some food next to his lips, silently as he talks you grab a napkin and wipe it off for him making him stop mid conversation. “Sorry, you had something there.” Then you look up in his eyes and time stops. It’s just you and him in the entire world, no curses, no death constantly, just you and him. No one else exists. Just the two of you. No strongest. Just your Satoru.

His eyes flit down to your soft, plump lips, his hand reaching out to thumb your bottom lip. “You're so pretty.” He says softly, leaning towards you; his breath fanning your lips. Your hands snake up to his hair, playing with it softly as your eyes flutter shut and you lean in, waiting for his lips to connect with yours. Just before your lips meet, Satoru's phone goes off making you jump apart as he answers his phone.

He smelt sweet. You wondered if he tasted sweeter.

2008 Jujutsu high graduation.

“Cmon! Get closer together! Yep! Perfect! Okay, smile!” The camera man shouts, you’re next to Satoru and Shoko. It felt a bit...hollow that Suguru wasn’t there. Satoru snakes an arm around your waist silently, pulling you subtly closer to him as if he read your mind.

You all smile as the photo flashes with a click! And just like that..graduation was over. At least you had photos to hold the memory.

Still..you and Satoru have been too busy to make it official. Riko.. Suguru.. Haibara.. too much. Though you still loved Satoru with your entire being. That never wavered or changed.

You wanted him to kiss you and make you his officially more than anything. You have for two years now. But..patience makes it worth it right..?

You swallow the frog in your throat and excuse yourself, wanting to be alone. To breathe.

You sit under the tree you all used to relax at a lot. Knees to your chest as your thoughts run wild.

Maybe Satoru.. didn’t want you? Or he didn’t know how to express it..? Doubts filled your mind making you curl into yourself more.

“Hey.” You’d recognise that sweet voice anywhere. The soft voice Satoru used on you. Only you. That honeyed sweet voice that could make you fold in less than a second. He was dangerous. You don’t make any effort to lift your head up. You just stay as you are, too tired to do anything.

You feel him sit next to you, his body heat radiating onto your side. He puts a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it in circular motions. “..Sweetheart?” You hate how that nickname sends goosebumps across your entire body.

“Talk to me.”, “What are we Satoru? It’s been 2 years. This year will be the third year.” It’s silent for three seconds. Or more. “..I thought we were dating all this time..” With that your head whips up and your mouth agape, “Huh?!”

Satoru blinks at you, “We..weren’t?”, “Y-you never even asked me to be your girlfriend under a sunset! Or stars! We haven’t even had a first kiss! Have we even-!” You ramble on; you miss the lovestruck gaze he gave you. Wordlessly Satoru shuffles in front of you, eye level with you and cupping your face with both of his hands. His bright blue eyes stare into yours, making a flush rise to your cheeks and ears.

“I’m sorry. I’m not that good with emotions or words but.. when you kissed my cheek in first year I kind of.. thought we were dating? Because no one’s ever done that to me let alone ever seen me like that. That’s why I assumed we were dating- I didn’t say anything because well- it’s embarrassing but you’re my first! I’ve never loved anyone and-“ You cut his rambling off with a soft peck to the corner of his mouth making a stuttered gasp escape him.

“You stupid boy. I love you so much. I’ve always been yours.” With that he presses his lips against yours, sealing the both of you together; sealing your affection. He deepens the kiss making a breathy gasp leave your lips; which he greedily swallows up.

He maps your mouth out with his tongue pinning yours before he pulls away with his chest heaving.

Yeah. He tasted sweeter.

“Third times the charm.” He grins against you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “More like three years.” But he wasn’t wrong, after all they do say third time’s the charm and in this instance it really was.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

Masterlist<3

Au Masterlist<3

Taglist!

@fictionaldreamerauthor

[xylatox]

Out of tune [pt.3] || cbg

I cant believe ive made it to part 3 :::((( Its such a bittersweet feeling being here ahhh. Unto my thoughts tho hehe

Except, this time, it wasn’t in a heated argument. It wasn’t in the middle of some stupid, tension-fueled fight where neither of you could tell whether you wanted to kill each other or rip each other’s clothes off. This time, he had kissed you after taking you out. After buying you dinner. After walking you home with his arm wrapped around you, his touch casual, like it belonged there. Like it wasn’t dangerous.

The war really is over oh my god :( 

Again, I just really love mc and Yeonjun’s relationship; they really are best friends ugh

And outside the studio… there’s that. The moments between work. The coffee he wordlessly hands you when he notices you getting too in your head. The way his hand lingers on your back when he leans in to show you something on the soundboard. The nights when he convinces you to take a break, dragging you to the bar near HYBE, ordering rounds of beer and stealing food off your plate like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The nights when, after a few drinks, his fingers tangle in your hoodie, pulling you close, his lips brushing against yours before he really kisses you, slow, lazy, like he knows you won’t pull away. It’s not something you talk about. Not at work, at least.

I love the shift in the relationship. It makes me so warm and cozy :( i love them so much.

Beomgyu grins. “That’s how we work.” And you have a feeling he’s absolutely right.

They fit so well, it makes me so happy

His hand brushed against your lower back, just barely, and then his breath was at your ear. "You look so fucking good tonight." Your body locked up. Beomgyu’s voice was low, meant for only you. His fingers ghosted over your hip, a touch so fleeting it could’ve been accidental. But it wasn’t. "I’ve been trying to focus all night," he murmured. "But you keep walking around looking like that." Your throat went dry. "You enjoying yourself?" he asked, still too close.

I will genuinely pass out

WHY DOES SEUNGCHOEL KEEP FINDING HER IN ODD PLACES EW GET AWAY

"And then I see him—" His jaw clenched. His grip on you tightened. "Talking to you like he fucking owns you, like he has any right to be standing that fucking close—"

Beomgyu like this is actually going to drive me insane

"I should’ve had you like this a long time ago," he muttered, voice darker now, laced with frustration. "Should’ve made you mine the second I realized no one else was ever gonna be enough."

Oh this is a crazy line

Beomgyu is a mess of contradictions.

Oh holy fuck

And then he kisses you. His lips pressing against yours like he’s memorizing the way you taste. His hand cups your jaw, fingers sliding into your hair, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss. You melt into him instantly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket, clinging. By the time he pulls away, you’re breathless. Dazed.

Thats actually so freaking sweet

Not yet. Instead, you let your phone fall back into your lap, exhaling slowly as you turned to the window again. Beomgyu was still standing there, still watching, still waiting for something you didn’t know how to give him.

Please oh my god, more angst?😭(im loving all of this btw)

Your breath caught. Because the thing was— You didn’t know. And that scared you more than anything else.

I just want them to be happy oh my god

“Then tell me what the fuck is going on,” he said, standing now, voice low, but intense. “Because I’m standing here ready to fight for you, and I feel like I’m the only one throwing punches.”

Hes so in love with her oh my gof

“I don’t want your protection,” he said. “I want you.”

I am not okay

How does the mc not realize Cheol has a crush??? Shes so cute 😭

And then he kissed you. Slow. Warm. Sure. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that tried to prove something. It wasn’t frantic or messy or fueled by tension. It was honest. Steady. The kind of kiss that said, I meant everything I said. I’m not going anywhere.

Im so soft I cannot do this

You think about how, for so long, you felt out of tune. Like no matter how hard you worked, something was always off. Too loud in the wrong places. Too soft where you needed strength. Like you were always trying to blend into a harmony that never made space for you.

Oh my god the title reference. 

Ronnie. Fuck. Im so glad I finally read this piece of yours. Your writing style is amazing. I love it so much, I love the world you built, the relationship you curated and just how things unraveled between them. Again, Im so glad I finally got to this piece and I cant wait to read another of your works!

OUT OF TUNE ˖ 🎙◞⋆ (PART 3)

pairing: producer!beomgyu x producer!femreader part 1 // part 2 // part 3 <3

summary: you and beomgyu have been at each other’s throats since day one at HYBE. both of you are producers, both of you are talented, and both of you absolutely refuse to lose to the other. whether it’s competing for the best demo, fighting over studio time, or bickering in team meetings, everyone knows one thing: you and beomgyu cannot stand each other so, of course, your boss decides to put you two on the same project—producing ENHYPEN’s next album. together. as in, sharing a studio, making creative decisions, and not murdering each other in the process. and suddenly, the tension isn’t just about work.

genre:  enemies to lovers, coworkers to lovers, smut, slow burn, angst with a good payoff // w/c:  22k words warnings: explicit sexual content, mdni!! softdom beomgyu, unprotected sex, drinking, angst, jealously, overworking characters, petnames.

author's note: hi guys!! i finally finished this fic <3 i hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 i also made a playlist with the songs i mentioned in the fic + a bunch of others that just feel like this story, check it out here <3

Beomgyu had kissed you.

Again. And you had let him. Again.

Except, this time, it wasn’t in a heated argument. It wasn’t in the middle of some stupid, tension-fueled fight where neither of you could tell whether you wanted to kill each other or rip each other’s clothes off. This time, he had kissed you after taking you out. After buying you dinner. After walking you home with his arm wrapped around you, his touch casual, like it belonged there. Like it wasn’t dangerous.

It had been soft. Warm. His lips had brushed against yours like a promise, like something new and terrifying was settling into place between you. And you had kissed him back. Not because you were drunk. Not because you were mad. But because, in that moment, you had wanted to.

Which meant you were completely, irrevocably screwed.

Because Beomgyu had been your rival for months. He had been the thorn in your side, the storm in your sky, the one person in this industry you were convinced you would never— well. Never this. And now, your face was buried in your hands, while Yeonjun grinned at you like he was about to savor every second of this.

Yeonjun grinned, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed, watching you like he was about to relish every second of this. "Oh, no, no, no. I need to process this properly." You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, but when you opened them, Yeonjun was still grinning, still watching you like this was the greatest night of his life. "You kissed him," he said, dragging out the words. "Again."

"Shut up," you repeated, but there was no heat in your voice.

Yeonjun ignored you completely, tapping his chin. "And not just anywhere—outside our apartment. Right at the front door. Damn, you guys were desperate."

You groaned again, covering your face with your hands. "I hate you."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, waving a hand. "Now, sit your ass down and start talking."

You sighed but eventually dropped onto the couch, rubbing your temples. "You want the whole story?"

"Obviously."

So, you told him. Not in excruciating detail, but how you and Beomgyu had kissed at work (again), how Seungcheol interrupted, how Yunho and Seungcheol were absolute assholes behind your back, how Beomgyu defended you (which Yeonjun immediately raised an eyebrow at), how you went out for drinks after work, how he walked you home, and finally—

"And then you guys made out in the hallway like a teen drama couple?" Yeonjun finished for you, grinning.

"We didn’t—" you started, then sighed. "Okay, fine, kind of."

Yeonjun cackled. "This is unreal."

You peeked at him through your fingers. "You’re enjoying this way too much."

"Of course I am," he said. "Because this is you—and Beomgyu. Beomgyu. The guy you’ve been complaining about for months. The guy you called your arch-nemesis."

You scowled. "I never called him that."

"You did," he said, smirking. "Twice."

You exhaled, leaning back against the couch. "I don’t know how this happened."

Yeonjun gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Holy shit. Someone call Baekhyun—this is bigger news than the album drop."

"Yeonjun."

"No, really, we need a press release—‘Y/N admits she likes Beomgyu after months of acting like she wanted to strangle him in the studio’—"

"I still want to strangle him," you muttered.

"Yeah, but now you also want to kiss him," he shot back.

Your face burned. "I regret this conversation."

Yeonjun grinned, then leaned forward, his voice softer now. "Okay, but seriously? I’m happy for you."

You hesitated, glancing at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." His expression was warm now, all the teasing fading into something real. "Look, I know he’s an annoying little shit, but he’s also not a bad guy," Yeonjun continued. "And if he makes you happy—"

You swallowed. "I don’t know if he does yet."

Yeonjun gave you a look. "You literally kissed him at your front door."

You sighed. "Fine. He makes me feel something. I don’t know what yet."

Yeonjun hummed. "Well, whatever it is, just make sure he doesn’t fuck it up."

You raised an eyebrow. "And if he does?"

Yeonjun leaned back, smirking. "Then I kick his ass."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Yeah, sure. That’s definitely gonna scare him."

Yeonjun pouted. "Hey, I could be intimidating."

"You’re wearing pajama pants with cartoon bears on them."

"These are very comfortable," he defended. "But fine, point taken. I’ll get Kai to help."

You chuckled. "Kai wouldn’t hurt a fly."

"Okay, maybe not. But he could guilt-trip Beomgyu into oblivion. That’s almost worse." You laughed again, warmth settling into your chest. Yeonjun grinned, nudging your knee with his. "Hey, relax. I think it’s gonna be fine."

You sighed. "I hope so."

He softened. "And if it’s not, I’m here."

Your throat tightened slightly. "Thanks, Junnie."

"Always," he said, stretching. "Now, I desperately need to sleep."

You nodded, getting up from the couch. "Same."

Yeonjun smirked as you turned toward your bedroom. "Don’t dream about Beomgyu too hard."

"Fuck off," you muttered, flipping him off over your shoulder.

His laughter followed you down the hall. And as you crawled into bed, burying yourself under the covers, you realized, tonight hadn’t gone the way you expected. Not even close. But somehow, for the first time in a while, you weren’t mad about it.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Days bled into nights, hours slipped through your fingers like sand, and before you even realized it, the album had started coming together, really coming together.

The instrumentals were finalized. The production was polished. The members of ENHYPEN had begun recording their vocals, each of them bringing something alive to the tracks that you had spent months obsessing over. Heeseung is a perfectionist, nailing his parts with precision but always wanting one more take. Jungwon is a natural leader, making sure the harmonies sit right. Sunghoon takes direction well, and Jake is full of energy, throwing out ideas between recordings. Sunoo brings emotion into every note, Jay hypes up the others, and Ni-ki—despite being the youngest—picks things up faster than anyone. You spend most of your days in the vocal booth, guiding them through runs, adjusting layers, making sure everything blends the way it’s supposed to.

And Beomgyu? He’s there. Not just physically, but in a way you didn’t expect. You don’t even question it anymore, the way he sits at the back of the room, his presence always in your periphery. The way he occasionally throws out suggestions, most of them annoyingly good. The way he watches you work, like he’s trying to figure you out.

There’s no formal arrangement, no spoken agreement. But at some point, without either of you really acknowledging it, you start to rely on him. And outside the studio… there’s that. The moments between work. The coffee he wordlessly hands you when he notices you getting too in your head. The way his hand lingers on your back when he leans in to show you something on the soundboard. The nights when he convinces you to take a break, dragging you to the bar near HYBE, ordering rounds of beer and stealing food off your plate like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The nights when, after a few drinks, his fingers tangle in your hoodie, pulling you close, his lips brushing against yours before he really kisses you, slow, lazy, like he knows you won’t pull away. It’s not something you talk about. Not at work, at least.

But it’s there. And you don’t mind. Because somehow, between all of this, between studio sessions and late-night drinking, between teasing remarks and stolen kisses, you and Beomgyu fit into each other’s lives like you were always supposed to be there.

And then, a few weeks after that night outside your apartment, you finish the album. The final track is mixed, the final arrangement locked in. You sit back in your chair, staring at the screen, your heart pounding. It’s done.

Beomgyu lets out a low whistle beside you. “Holy shit.”

You turn to him, still half in shock. “We actually finished it.”

He grins, knocking his knee against yours. “You finished it.”

You exhale, shaking your head. You almost don’t believe it. And then, the door swings open. Baekhyun steps inside, looking way too pleased. “Perfect timing. I was just about to call you both for a meeting.”

Beomgyu groans. “A meeting? We should be celebrating.”

Baekhyun smirks. “We will. That’s what the party is for.”

You blink. “Party?”

“The album launch.” Baekhyun crosses his arms. “Label event, media coverage, important people. Big deal.”

Your stomach twists. “Oh.”

Beomgyu perks up. “Is it open bar?”

Baekhyun narrows his eyes. “Don’t push it.”

Beomgyu leans toward you, muttering, “It’s totally open bar.”

You snort. Baekhyun claps his hands. “Alright, conference room in five.”

You sigh, powering down your setup. “Guess we’re not celebrating just yet.”

Beomgyu stretches. “Give it time.”

The conference room is packed when you walk in. The ENHYPEN members are already seated, along with some producers, managers, and Seungcheol. You inhale sharply, steadying yourself. You haven’t seen much of him since Beomgyu told you everything. You don’t want to think about it now.

You slide into a seat, and moments later, Baekhyun starts running through final updates, the release schedule, the media strategy, the logistics of the launch party. "Romance: Untold," Baekhyun says, nodding toward you and Beomgyu. "Love the name."

A murmur of approval spreads around the table. "It’s perfect," Heeseung agrees.

"I told you it was better than ‘Files of Romance,’" Jay adds.

Baekhyun smirks. “Told you it was just a working title.”

Beomgyu leans toward you, voice low. “You hearing this? We won.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be insufferable about it.”

“I live to be insufferable,” he whispers.

Before you can respond, Seungcheol speaks. "You know," he muses, leaning back in his chair, "I have to say—Y/N, you really outdid yourself with this album." You blink, caught off guard. Seungcheol’s gaze settles on you, his smile smooth, too easy. “The vocal production, the arrangement, the way everything blends—it’s all sharp. Easily some of the best work I’ve seen from you.”

A few heads nod in agreement. Your fingers tighten slightly against your lap. “Uh. Thanks.”

Baekhyun claps his hands together. “Alright, that’s a wrap. Party’s this Friday—be there, look good, and for the love of God, don’t embarrass me.”

People start filing out of the room, but before you can move, Beomgyu leans closer. “You okay?”

You hesitate, then nod. “Yeah.”

He studies you for a second, then nudges your arm. “Good. Because we have a party to dominate.”

You huff. “That’s not how album release parties work.”

Beomgyu grins. “That’s how we work.” And you have a feeling he’s absolutely right.

The venue was nothing short of extravagant. Dim golden lighting, sleek black-and-gold decor, and a curated guest list that ensured the room was filled with the industry’s best. Label executives, producers, other artists, everyone who mattered was here, celebrating your work.

And you looked good. Not just put-together. Not just presentable. Good. Your dress was sleek—black, fitted, with thin straps and a slit up one side that made walking feel like a power move. Understated but striking. The kind of outfit that made you feel in control.

You hadn’t done it for anyone. Not for the photographers, not for the label executives, and not even for Beomgyu. But the second you walked in, his eyes found you. And you knew. You felt the weight of his stare before you even saw him, the way his gaze flickered down, slowly tracing over you before snapping back up. You pretended not to notice. Pretended you didn’t see the way his fingers flexed around the glass in his hand. Pretended it didn’t make your stomach tighten.

Because tonight, the two of you were professionals. No one here knew. No one had any idea what had been happening between you for the last few weeks—the late nights, the stolen kisses, the way his hands had started finding your waist when no one was looking. And that was how it needed to stay.

"Alright," Yeonjun hummed beside you, adjusting his blazer. "Where’s the champagne?"

You snorted. "Can you at least pretend you’re here for the album?"

Yeonjun grinned. "Oh, I’m definitely here for the album. But I’m also here for free alcohol."

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. "Come on, let’s find the others."

The three of you wove through the crowd, stopping for brief congratulations from a few producers and label reps. And then, you spotted the ENHYPEN members near the bar.

"Y/N!" Heeseung waved you over, grinning. "We were just talking about you."

You raised an eyebrow, stepping up beside him. "Good things, I hope."

Jay smirked. "Very good things. You did produce our album, after all."

Ni-ki grinned. "I think she deserves a toast."

You laughed. "You just want an excuse to drink more."

Jake nudged you playfully. "Maybe. But you do deserve it."

Your chest warmed at the praise. You had spent so much time working on this album that you had barely stopped to consider what it actually meant, not just to you, but to them. You exhaled, reaching for a glass of champagne from the bar. "Fine. A toast, then."

The guys all lifted their glasses, and Heeseung smirked. "To the best producer we could’ve asked for." The glasses clinked, and you took a sip, letting the bubbles fizz against your tongue. The conversation carried on easily, laughter and congratulations blending into the hum of the party.

And throughout it all, you felt him. Felt his presence across the room, the weight of his gaze every time you so much as moved. Beomgyu was talking to Soobin, but his attention wasn’t fully there. Not when you shifted your weight. Not when you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Not when you laughed at something Jay said, tilting your head back just enough to expose your throat. His grip on his glass tightened.

And you smirked to yourself, barely resisting the urge to glance at him. If he wanted to play it cool, fine. So would you.

An hour passed. The room had filled out even more, the energy shifting as people relaxed, drinks flowed, and the excitement of the album’s release finally settled in. You had long since drifted from the bar, making rounds, stopping for brief conversations, keeping up exactly the level of professional distance you were supposed to.

And Beomgyu had too. Until now. Because one moment, you were standing by one of the lounge tables, listening to Taehyun say something about the press coverage. And the next, Beomgyu was there, too close.

His hand brushed against your lower back, just barely, and then his breath was at your ear. "You look so fucking good tonight." Your body locked up. Beomgyu’s voice was low, meant for only you. His fingers ghosted over your hip, a touch so fleeting it could’ve been accidental. But it wasn’t. "I’ve been trying to focus all night," he murmured. "But you keep walking around looking like that." Your throat went dry. "You enjoying yourself?" he asked, still too close.

You exhaled sharply, forcing your posture to stay straight. "I was."

He hummed. "Then I won’t keep you."

And just like that, he pulled away. Left you standing there, heart hammering, skin warm where his breath had touched it. Like he hadn’t just completely unraveled you with two fucking sentences. You swallowed, forcing yourself to refocus on the conversation.

Taehyun smirked. "You okay?"

You shot him a look. "Fine."

Yeonjun grinned, sipping his drink. "Uh-huh. Sure."

You ignored them both. But as you glanced across the room, catching sight of Beomgyu’s smirk as he raised his glass to you. You weren’t making it through this party unscathed.

The bathroom was quiet. A rare moment of stillness amid the overwhelming noise of the party. You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your dress, grounding yourself before stepping back out into the chaos. But the second you did—

"Hey." You barely had time to register the voice before Seungcheol appeared beside you, his usual easy smile in place. "Didn’t think I’d get a chance to talk to you tonight," he said, tilting his head. "You’ve been busy."

You exhaled. "Yeah, well, it’s a big night."

"It is." His gaze flickered over you, lingering in a way that made your stomach twist. "And you’re looking— good." The way he said it, too familiar, too confident, made something in you prickle.

"Thanks," you said, keeping your tone even. "Hope you’re enjoying the party."

"Oh, I am." Seungcheol’s smirk deepened. "More now that we’re talking."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "We see each other at work, you know."

"Yeah, but work isn’t exactly the place to have fun, is it?" He took a slow sip of his drink, gaze still fixed on you. "I was serious about what I said in the meeting. You really killed it on this album."

"I appreciate that."

"I mean it." His voice dipped, his body shifting slightly closer. "It’s impressive. You’re impressive."

You forced a polite smile. "Thank you."

"You know—" he mused, "you don’t have to be stuck at HYBE forever. You’ve got talent. People notice."

You stiffened slightly. "I’m fine where I am."

"Are you?" He hummed. "Because I keep thinking about how someone like you deserves better than some minor group’s project. You could be working with bigger names."

Your stomach turned. "ENHYPEN’s album is a big deal."

"Sure." He smiled. "But I bet you could be doing bigger things. Better things. Maybe with better people." There it was. The way his words twisted, the implication lurking just beneath the surface.

Your jaw tightened. "I’m good where I am, Seungcheol."

"Of course," he said smoothly, unfazed. "Just saying—if you ever want to get out of there, I’d be happy to—"

"She’s fine where she is."

The interruption was sharp and familiar. Your breath hitched before you even turned your head. Because suddenly, Beomgyu was there. He wasn’t just standing beside you, he was between you and Seungcheol, his body angled slightly, his expression unreadable. But his eyes were sharp, dark, not teasing, not playful.

Seungcheol sighed, exhaling through his nose. "Ah, Beomgyu."

"Seungcheol," Beomgyu said flatly. "Didn’t realize you were so interested in Y/N’s career path."

Seungcheol shrugged. "Just making conversation."

"Right." Beomgyu’s lips twitched, mocking. "Well, we were actually in the middle of something, so if you don’t mind—"

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. "In the middle of what, exactly?"

Beomgyu smiled. "Leaving."

And before Seungcheol could say another word, Beomgyu’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, firm. And then, he pulled you away. You barely had time to register it, barely had time to breathe before he was leading you across the venue, weaving through the crowd with purpose, his grip never loosening.

"Beomgyu—" you started.

"Not here," he muttered. He pushed open a door. A small, empty lounge. Dimly lit, tucked away from the main event. The second the door closed behind you, he turned. And the energy in the room shifted. His jaw was clenched, his breathing uneven, his fingers still curled around your wrist like he couldn’t let go.

Your breath was uneven, your pulse erratic, and the air in the small, dimly lit lounge was thick, too thick, pressing against your skin like a second layer. The bass from the party outside throbbed faintly through the walls, but in here, it was silent. Beomgyu stood in front of you, his chest rising and falling with controlled, shallow breaths. His fingers were still curled around your wrist, firm, warm, like he wasn’t ready to let go. The look in his eyes was unreadable, dark, searching, brimming with something that made your stomach twist and your throat go dry.

"What the hell was that?" you asked, voice sharper than intended, trying to ground yourself.

Beomgyu let out a humorless scoff, raking a hand through his dark hair, making it fall messily over his forehead. "Are you serious?"

You crossed your arms, standing your ground. "He wasn’t doing anything—"

"He was fucking testing you," Beomgyu snapped. His voice was rough, his jaw tight. "Just seeing how much he could get away with." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head.

Your heart pounded. "It’s not your problem, Beomgyu."

His eyes flashed. "Like hell it’s not."

And suddenly, he was too close. His hand was still on you, his fingers now sliding down, tracing the inside of your wrist like he was trying to memorize the feel of your skin. His breath was uneven, his pupils blown wide, and the air between you was buzzing.

"Do you have any idea," he muttered, voice lower now, almost a growl, "how fucking insane you make me?" Your breath hitched. His fingers twitched, like he was holding himself back. Like he was trying so hard not to do something reckless. "I saw you the second you walked into this party," he murmured. "I haven’t stopped looking at you since."

A shiver ran down your spine. You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. "Beomgyu—"

"And then I see him—" His jaw clenched. His grip on you tightened. "Talking to you like he fucking owns you, like he has any right to be standing that fucking close—"

"He doesn’t," you cut in, your voice softer this time. Beomgyu’s gaze flicked to yours. Something inside him shifted. And then he stepped closer. So close you could feel the warmth of his skin. So close that if you moved even an inch, your lips would touch.

His next breath fanned against your cheek. His voice was a whisper, but it wrecked you. "I can’t fucking focus when you’re around," he muttered.

Your stomach flipped. A smirk ghosted over your lips before you could stop it. "Good."

Beomgyu’s eyes darkened. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

And that was all it took. A sharp inhale. A flicker of something dangerous in his gaze. And then he was kissing you. Not soft. Not careful. Desperate. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you like he needed to feel every inch of you against him. His lips parted against yours, deepening the kiss instantly, his tongue teasing along your bottom lip, demanding more. You gasped, and he swallowed the sound eagerly, pressing himself closer.

"Fuck," he muttered against your mouth, his voice ragged, "you taste good."

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his blazer, clinging to him as heat rolled through you. "We—"

"Not stopping," he cut in, tilting your chin up with his fingers before kissing you again, harder, more possessive. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and the sharp sting sent a spark straight to your stomach. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips firmly, and then, he pressed his leg between yours. Your breath hitched. The pressure made you let out a small, helpless sound escaping you before you could stop it, your fingers curling tighter into his jacket. Beomgyu froze. Then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at you.

And his expression changed. The arrogance was gone. The playfulness was gone. His gaze dropped to your lips, still swollen from his kisses, then flickered back up to your eyes. "Oh," he murmured, voice dropping to something dangerous. "Did you just moan for me?"

Your face burned. "I—"

"Fuck." His grip on your waist tightened, his forehead pressing against yours as he exhaled sharply. "That was the hottest thing I’ve ever heard."

Your entire body buzzed. "Beomgyu—"

"Say my name again," he murmured against your lips, voice thick with something else, something darker. "Say it while I make you feel good."

And then he moved his leg. A slow, deliberate shift, just enough to press against the heat between your thighs. Your lips parted, a choked noise escaping before you could stop it. Beomgyu groaned. "Fuck, baby," he muttered, his grip turning bruising. "You like that, don’t you?"

Your fingers dug into his arms. "Beomgyu—"

"That’s it," he praised, his mouth trailing down, along your jaw, to your throat. His teeth nipped at your skin before his lips soothed over the mark, sucking lightly. You whimpered, your head tilting back on instinct. Beomgyu chuckled against your skin, pleased. "So sensitive." He kissed down, past your collarbone, murmuring against your skin, "I bet I could get you falling apart from just this, huh?"

Your stomach twisted at the thought. "We—we’re at a party—"

"I don’t give a shit," he growled, nipping at your collarbone, his hands sliding over your thighs, gripping you like he needed to touch you. "I should. I should be worried about someone walking in, but fuck—" He kissed your neck again, hungrier, more reckless. "I can’t stop touching you."

The world outside ceased to exist. The music from the party became a distant hum, swallowed by the heat wrapping around you both. The dim lighting barely illuminated the outline of Beomgyu’s face, his sharp jawline, the messy strands of black hair falling over his forehead. His fingers were still gripping your waist, his breath shallow, his pupils blown wide. His lips were red from kissing you.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his again, slower this time, testing. But Beomgyu didn’t hesitate, his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him, his mouth parting against yours, deepening the kiss like he needed it. Your fingers found the lapels of his blazer, gripping tightly as he walked you backward, lips still moving against yours, until the backs of your knees hit the edge of a small couch. And then, with one swift motion, Beomgyu’s hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them firmly. Before you could process it, he lifted you. A startled gasp escaped against his mouth, but he just smirked, effortlessly pulling you onto his lap as he turned around and sat down, settling you exactly where he wanted you, straddling him.

Your dress rode up your thighs with the movement, exposing the soft skin beneath. Beomgyu’s hands immediately found their place there, fingers pressing into the flesh, holding you tight. His touch was burning. Everything was burning. "You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured against your lips, his voice low, almost wrecked.

You shivered, hands sliding up to cup his face, tilting his chin up slightly before diving back in, kissing him harder this time. He groaned into your mouth, his fingers flexing against your skin before one hand slid up to your back, pressing you closer.

His lips left yours just long enough to move to your jaw, trailing down slowly, deliberately, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat. You tilted your head instinctively, giving him more access, and Beomgyu took it, sucking lightly against your skin before soothing the mark with his tongue.

"Fuck," he exhaled, his grip on your waist tightening as you shifted slightly, adjusting your position. The friction made his breath hitch, his hands dig into your thighs. You felt the effect you had on him. And it made something ignite in you. Slowly, deliberately, you rolled your hips against him. The reaction was immediate. Beomgyu let out a low, strangled moan, his fingers gripping you harder. "Shit—"

A slow smirk curled on your lips. "You like that?"

His head tipped back against the couch for a second, his eyes squeezed shut as he let out a shaky breath. "You’re gonna fucking kill me," he muttered.

You leaned in, pressing soft, teasing kisses along his jawline, down the column of his throat, feeling the way his pulse pounded under your lips. Beomgyu swallowed hard, his hands roaming up and down your back, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to hold you there or pull you impossibly closer. "You're so fucking perfect," he murmured, his voice raw, almost desperate. "So pretty, so fucking good—"

You kissed along the edge of his jaw, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath you. "You talk too much," you whispered, nipping lightly at his skin.

Beomgyu growled, one hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you back down for another kiss. This one was messy, hungrier, his tongue teasing against yours, his hands gripping your waist like he never wanted to let go. You rolled your hips again, feeling the way he shuddered beneath you. And then, with a frustrated groan, he shrugged off his blazer, tossing it to the side without a second thought. You took the opportunity immediately.

Before he could do anything else, you leaned in, pressing your lips to the newly exposed skin, kissing down the side of his neck, letting your teeth graze over his pulse point before sucking lightly. Beomgyu let out a sharp breath, his hands gripping you tighter. "Fuck," he muttered, tilting his head back, letting you ruin him.

You kissed down his throat, down to the hollow between his collarbones, listening to the way his breath hitched, feeling the way his body tensed beneath you. When you pulled back slightly to look at him, his eyes were hooded, lips swollen, chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths. And fuck, he had never looked better. He looked wrecked. All because of you.

His hands slid up to cup your face again, his thumb tracing your cheek before tilting your chin, making you look at him. Beomgyu’s thumb brushed over your bottom lip, his dark eyes locked onto yours, gaze molten, burning. He held your chin in place for a second longer, like he was savoring the moment, the way you looked, the way your breath trembled against his skin.

And then his hand moved lower. Fingers trailing down the line of your throat, slow, deliberate, like he was testing how far he could go. When his fingers wrapped around your neck, his palm warm against your skin, you felt your pulse stutter. And then, a light squeeze. Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who was in control. Beomgyu smirked when he felt the sharp intake of your breath.

"You like that, huh?" he murmured, voice dripping with amusement, his grip firm but teasing. Your lips parted, and before you could even think of responding, he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your cheek. "Of course, you do." Your stomach flipped. You weren’t sure when it had happened, when you had lost yourself so completely to him, but at this point, it didn’t matter. Because his lips were on yours again, and this time, the kiss was even hungrier.

He tilted your head back slightly with his hand still around your throat, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your entire body ache. You felt his other hand travel up your side, fingers ghosting over your waist, up to your ribs, higher, until his palm was covering your chest, fingers splaying over the fabric of your dress.

A quiet whimper escaped you, and Beomgyu groaned, pressing his forehead against yours as he squeezed lightly, his thumb teasing over your covered skin. "Fuck," he breathed, "you feel even better than I imagined."

Your brain short-circuited. "Imagined?"

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "Oh, you have no idea." His lips brushed against your jaw as he spoke, his words dripping into your skin, each one sending heat straight through you. "How many nights I’ve thought about this. About you, sitting on my lap like this. About how fucking perfect you’d feel pressed against me."

Your fingers trembled slightly as they reached for the buttons of his shirt, your breath uneven. "Beomgyu—"

"I should’ve had you like this a long time ago," he muttered, voice darker now, laced with frustration. "Should’ve made you mine the second I realized no one else was ever gonna be enough."

Your fingers worked through the buttons of his shirt with slow precision, the fabric parting inch by inch, revealing golden skin, firm muscle, evidence of how strong he really was, how much restraint he had been holding onto. Beomgyu’s breath was heavy, ragged, his chest rising and falling with each undone button. His hands stayed firm on your hips, his grip bruising, grounding himself, like he was trying to stay in control.

"Fuck," he muttered as your fingers ghosted over his collarbone, your touch featherlight, teasing. "You’re killing me."

A smirk curled at your lips. "Am I?"

You leaned in, your lips brushing against the sharp edge of his jawline, then lower, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses down his throat. You felt the way his pulse pounded against your lips, erratic, betraying the composure he was desperately trying to hold onto. "Yes, and I'll make you fucking mine." His voice was rough, dark with something possessive, something unshakable.

Beomgyu ripped the rest of his shirt off, tossing it aside like it meant nothing. And fuck, you had seen glimpses before, the way his shirts fit him, the way he carried himself, but this—this was something else entirely. His body was lean, defined, sculpted by years of muscle memory, of practice, of control. His skin was smooth, warm under your fingertips, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you traced your hands down, over his collarbones, over the faint lines of his abdomen.

"You like what you see, mhm?" he teased, voice dripping with amusement, but his tone was strained, like he wanted to keep up the cocky act but was barely hanging on.

You didn’t answer. You just pressed your lips to his collarbone, then lower. Beomgyu sucked in a sharp breath, his hands trembling against you. You kissed down the center of his chest, slow, teasing, feeling the muscles beneath your lips tense as you moved lower, your hands gliding over his stomach. His breath hitched when you sank to your knees.

Still between his legs, still so perfectly in his space, your hands sliding over his thighs as you settled in front of him. Beomgyu let out a shaky exhale, his head tipping back for a second before he forced himself to look at you.

And fuck, the way he looked at you. Like you were a prayer. Like you were the thing he had been craving forever. His fingers found your hair, curling around the strands at the base of your skull, holding you there, his grip firm but controlled. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with something between reverence and ruin. "So fucking pretty on your knees for me."

A shiver ran down your spine. "Beomgyu—"

"Ask, baby." Beomgyu’s grip on your hair tightens slightly, his fingers threading through the strands, keeping you exactly where he wants you. His touch isn’t rough but it’s firm enough to make your breath hitch. His dark eyes watch you carefully, taking in the way your lips part, the way your fingers twitch against his thighs, craving more.

He hums, his thumb brushing over your cheek, his smirk lazy, knowing. "You want this, don’t you?" You swallow, nodding instinctively, your throat dry with anticipation. Beomgyu clicks his tongue, shaking his head slightly, amused. "Use your words."

You exhale shakily, your grip tightening against the fabric of his pants, your pulse hammering beneath your skin. He’s toying with you, loving the power he holds, and you know it. But you refuse to let the moment swallow you whole. "I want this."

His lips curl slightly, that signature cocky smirk dancing at the edges of his mouth. "Say it properly, baby."

Your stomach tightens. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the control he wields so effortlessly, the sheer enjoyment flickering in his eyes as he watches you squirm. You lick your lips, steadying your voice as you meet his gaze head-on. "I want you, Beomgyu. Please."

Beomgyu exhales sharply, his hand sliding down to cup your chin, his fingers pressing into your jaw just enough to make you tilt your head up to him. His expression shifts—less teasing, more raw, like your words just hit him somewhere deep. "Fuck," he mutters, his voice rasping with unfiltered need. His grip on your chin tightens just slightly before he lets go. "Go on then," he says, voice low, thick. "Take my pants off."

You don’t hesitate. Your fingers move to the button of his pants, undoing them slowly, feeling the heat radiating off his body as you tug the zipper down. You push the fabric down his hips, your hands brushing against the firm muscles of his thighs as you strip him, leaving him in just his underwear.

And then, you kneel back, taking in the sight before you. Beomgyu is a mess of contradictions. He’s laid back against the couch, his arm resting over the back like he’s relaxed, in control—but the way his chest rises and falls a little too fast, the way his fingers twitch at his sides, betray him. His body is tense with anticipation, with barely restrained desire, and the way he looks at you, like he wants to devour you whole, sends a wave of heat straight through you.

Your hands skim up his thighs, slow, teasing, as you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin just above his knee. His breath catches, his fingers flexing against the cushion beside him. "Please…" you whimper, your voice a delicate plea against his skin.

Beomgyu’s eyes darken, his head tilting down to meet your gaze as his hand moves to stroke your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Please what, princess?" His voice is nothing but a husky murmur, but it sends a shiver down your spine. You don’t answer right away, you let your lips trail higher, kissing along his inner thigh, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath you, his breath shuddering as you tease him.

"Let me…" You murmur, your fingers sliding up to grip his thighs, spreading them wider for you. The sheer power shift, the way he lets you take control, yet still holds all the dominance in his touch, makes you dizzy. You glance up at him through your lashes, your expression caught between innocence and temptation. "Let me… please."

Beomgyu's pupils are blown wide, his lips parted, his body trembling slightly with restraint. And then, his smirk returns, slower this time, almost predatory. "Yes, princess…" His voice is a breathless rasp. "Take what you want."

You don’t need to be told twice. Your fingers hook into the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down with excruciating slowness, your nails grazing along his hips as you strip him completely. Your movements falter for just a second as your eyes take him in, fully bare before you. Heat blooms across your skin, your pulse stuttering as the sight of him renders you momentarily speechless. He’s beautiful.

Not just in the way you always knew, sharp jaw, plush lips, tousled hair falling into his dark, expectant eyes, but like this. Completely exposed, all golden skin and defined lines, every inch of him sculpted to perfection. And big. Your stomach tightens at the realization, heat rushing between your thighs as your gaze instinctively trails down, taking in the sheer size of him. Your lips part slightly, your fingers hovering over his skin, hesitant, almost reverent, like you’re still processing just how much of him there is.

Beomgyu notices. A slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips, his chest rising and falling with steady, controlled breaths as he watches you. His voice is low, teasing, laced with amusement. "Speechless?"

You nod softly as you lean in, your lips brushing his lower abdomen, pressing wet, teasing kisses along the dips and curves of his pelvis. You feel the way his breath stutters, the way his hands clench into fists at his sides, his self-control slipping with every touch of your mouth.

"Fuck," he groans, his hand flying to your hair, fingers curling into the strands, not pushing—just holding. "You’re playing a dangerous game, baby."

You hum softly, feigning innocence as you trail lower, your lips brushing just beside where he wants you the most. You can feel him tense beneath you, his thighs clenching, his breathing uneven. You look up at him again, your tongue peeking out slightly as you hover just close enough to make him ache. "Yeah?" you whisper, teasing. "What do you want, Gyu?"

Beomgyu curses under his breath, his head rolling back before he drags his eyes back down to you, gaze sharp and burning. His fingers tighten in your hair, his grip firm but not yet forcing, just holding, reminding you exactly who’s in charge. His head tilts down, dark eyes watching you, unreadable yet burning with something wild, something barely restrained. "Use that pretty mouth on me," he rasps, voice rough, commanding. "Show me how bad you want it."

You don’t hesitate. Leaning in, you press slow, deliberate kisses along his length, your tongue flicking out to taste him, teasing, testing. You hear the sharp breath he sucks in, feel the way his thighs tense under your touch. And then, you take him into your mouth. Beomgyu exhales harshly, his head rolling back for just a moment, his fingers flexing in your hair before his gaze snaps back to you, completely fixated on the sight of your lips wrapped around him.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, voice thick with pleasure. His free hand clenches into a fist against the couch, trying to keep himself grounded. "Look at you… so fucking good for me. On your knees, taking me like so well."

The praise sends a shiver down your spine, making you moan softly around him. The vibration of it rips another groan from his throat, his hips twitching slightly in response. "Shit—" he grits out, his grip in your hair tightening as you hollow your cheeks, sucking harder, gripping onto his thighs for support.

You love how he reacts to you, how his breath stutters, how his muscles tense every time your tongue glides over him. You let your eyes flutter open, glancing up at him through your lashes, letting him see the way you’re completely lost in pleasing him.

And he does. His jaw clenches, his lips part slightly as he watches you, his pupils dark and blown wide with hunger. His entire body is strung tight with restraint, like he’s one second away from completely losing control. "Fuck, take it," he groans, his voice nothing but raw need.

Your response is to moan around him again, sending another delicious vibration up his spine. Beomgyu curses under his breath, his hand tugging slightly at your hair in warning. You pull away just slightly, your lips gliding lower, pressing wet, teasing kisses along his base, then trailing further down. Beomgyu shudders the second your tongue flicks against his balls, his head snapping down to look at you. His reaction is primal.

"Shit—baby—" His breath is ragged, his body jerking at the sensation. His grip tightens, his fingers threading deeper into your hair as he exhales a shaky, desperate groan. "God, you’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind."

You smirk up at him, licking slowly, teasing, watching the way his expression twists in pleasure, the way he struggles to keep himself from completely losing control. "Good," you murmur against his skin, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Beomgyu lets out a breathless laugh, but it’s broken by another sharp inhale as you take him back into your mouth, this time moving faster, deeper. His head falls back against the couch, his chest heaving as he fights to hold himself together. But you can tell, he’s unraveling.

"Fuck, princess—" His voice is hoarse, breathless, his control slipping with every passing second. He yanks your hair back slightly, just enough to make you look up at him, just enough to remind you who’s in charge. "You wanna make me come, baby?" he growls, his fingers tangling deeper into your hair, his hips starting to twitch up into your mouth. "Then don’t fucking stop."

Your nails dig into his thighs as you obey, quickening your pace, taking him deeper, sucking harder. The sounds spilling from his lips grow rougher, filthier, his body trembling beneath you. "That’s it—fuck, that’s it, princess—" His voice is wrecked now, completely desperate, his breath coming in sharp, uneven pants.

You can feel it. The way he’s holding back, the way he’s teetering on the edge, barely holding himself together. "I’m so close," he groans, his grip on your hair tightening, his thighs clenching beneath your fingers. His dark, lust-blown eyes lock onto yours, and his next words come out in a low, sinful command—

"Take it, baby. Take every fucking drop." A deep, broken moan rips from Beomgyu’s throat as his body shudders, unraveling completely in your mouth. His grip in your hair tightens for a fleeting second before it relaxes, his breath stuttering as he watches you, watches the way you take it all, how you swallow every last drop without hesitation.

And then you look up at him. Your lips are slightly parted, your tongue flicking out to catch the remnants of him, your eyes filled with something that makes his stomach twist—devotion, submission, something entirely yours.

His head falls back against the couch, his chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths, the aftershocks still coursing through him. One hand slides down to your jaw, fingers tracing the edge of your lips, his thumb pressing lightly against your lower one, just enough to part them again. "Fuck," he breathes, his voice still thick, still wrecked. "You were made for this, weren’t you?"

He doesn’t let you answer. Instead, he pulls you up effortlessly, lifting you onto his lap, pressing your body against his. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, his grip firm, possessive, as if the idea of letting you go is unbearable.

"You took care of me so well, baby… " he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your temple before trailing down to your jawline. You feel him smile slightly against your skin as your hands clutch at his shoulders, your body still trembling from the sheer intensity of the moment.

His hands slide down your back, gripping your waist, his thumbs stroking slow, lazy circles into your skin. "So good," he praises again, his voice softer now, dripping with satisfaction. Your lips press against his jawline in response, a soft, lingering kiss, and his chest tightens at the gesture. Beomgyu’s fingers move to your chin, tilting your head up so you can’t look anywhere but at him. His grip is firm, a silent reminder of who’s in control. His gaze burns into yours, something dark and unreadable swirling in his expression. "I told you I would make you mine," he murmurs, his voice dipping into a low, almost predatory growl.

A soft whimper escapes you, and Beomgyu smirks, pleased. He sees the way your thighs twitch in response, the way your fingers tighten against his shoulders, as if you need more, need him. "Gyu—"

"Aww…" He tuts, his tone dripping with amusement. "My eager little princess." His fingers trail down your body, slow, teasing, ghosting over your waist before resting on your thigh. His thumb brushes the sensitive skin just above your knee, his touch featherlight, too light. "You want me that bad, huh?" He teases, his smirk deepening as he watches you squirm under his touch. "You just can’t help yourself, can you?"

His hand moves higher, creeping up your thigh, his fingers a slow, torturous promise. His other hand rests against your lower back, keeping you pressed against him, making sure you feel every inch of his growing need for you. "Are you going to be a good girl for me?" he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Are you going to listen to everything I say?"

You nod quickly, breathless, eager and Beomgyu groans at the sight of you like this, so willing, so obedient for him. "Good girl," he praises, his voice softer now, but no less dominant. His fingers finally slide higher, his palm pressing between your legs, feeling the heat radiating from your core. His lips curl into a slow, knowing smirk against your skin. "Let’s see how badly you want it."

You never imagined Beomgyu would be like this. Dominant. Gentle. Dangerous. From the beginning, you thought you knew exactly who he was—the carefree boy with easy laughter, quick-witted jokes, always playful, always teasing you. But now, here, with his darkened gaze filled with hunger, his touch both possessive and reverent, his voice thick with unrestrained desire, you realize you maybe never really knew him at all.

Not like this. Not the way he strips you down with slow, deliberate hands, unzipping your dress and letting it slip off your shoulders before tossing it carelessly to the floor. Not the way his breath catches at the sight of you in nothing but black lace, his lips parting slightly, his tongue darting out to wet them as if he’s already imagining the taste of you.

“Fuck,” he breathes, almost to himself, his fingers tracing along your waist, pressing into your skin like he’s grounding himself. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” His words sink into you, warm and dizzying, as his lips find your collarbone, kissing, sucking, worshiping every inch of skin he can reach. Every praise, every whispered “perfect,” every quiet groan of appreciation makes your head spin.

And then, your bra joins your dress on the floor, and he loses it. His mouth is eager, starving as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down your chest, his tongue flicking over your nipple before he sucks, his hands gripping your waist like he needs to hold onto something. His hands wander lower, gliding down your stomach, mapping out the curves of your hips, his touch featherlight as he slides over your thighs. He teases, fingers barely grazing where you need him most, making you whimper in frustration.

And then, everything shifts. In one swift motion, he pulls you back against him, your back colliding with his chest as he leans into the couch, trapping you in his hold. His arms lock around you, forearms pressing into your ribcage, his legs framing yours, keeping you caged.

His breath is hot against your ear as his lips ghost along your jaw, your earlobe, teasing before his teeth sink into the sensitive skin, making you shiver. He hums, satisfied with your reaction, his voice a low rasp against your skin. “I picture you like this…” His hands trail lower, fingers dancing just above the waistband of your underwear, barely touching. Teasing. “Touching yourself when you think of me.”

A shudder rips through you, your stomach tightening, thighs clenching around nothing. His fingers finally slip inside your underwear, dragging through your slick heat before circling your clit, slow, deliberate, just enough to make you whimper. He lets out a breathy chuckle, lips brushing against your temple. “Is it like this?”

You can’t even answer, your breath stutters as his fingers move, lazy and unhurried, his free hand gripping your thigh, keeping you spread open over him. His hard length presses against your lower back, and the thought of him like this, as desperate as you, makes you whine.

“You like it when I talk about you like this, don’t you?” He whispers against your neck, nipping at the skin before soothing it with his tongue. “When I tell you how fucking good you are for me?”

You nod, words are impossible, lost in the haze of him, in the way he’s playing you like he knows your body better than you do. His fingers work you open, his pace torturously slow. “You’re soaking,” he murmurs, his tone almost in awe, his fingers gliding through your wetness with ease. He presses a slow, teasing circle over your clit, his lips curving into a smirk against your jaw. “Fuck, baby. All this for me?”

You whimper, hips twitching in search of more friction, but he takes his time, dragging his fingers through your slick with excruciating patience. He sinks one finger inside you, slow and deliberate, his breath hitching at the way you immediately tighten around him, moaning softly. “Yes, fuck—”

“There you go,” he hums, voice rich with praise. Your head falls back against his shoulder, a breathless moan slipping past your lips as he moves inside you, curling his finger just right before adding another. He sets a steady, unhurried rhythm, pumping into you, his palm pressing firmly against your clit every time he thrusts deeper.

The pleasure builds steadily, an unbearable coil tightening in your stomach as he continues, fingers fucking you open with perfect precision. His lips stay on your neck, murmuring praises, coaxing out every little sound from you like he’s memorizing them. “So wet, baby,” he groans, his voice raspier now, his own breathing uneven. “Dripping down my fingers—fuck, I could do this all night.”

Your thighs start to tremble, pleasure winding tighter, higher, every brush of his fingers sending sparks through you. “You gonna come for me?” he murmurs, biting down on your earlobe before soothing it with his tongue. “Gonna fall apart just like this?”

You nod frantically, hands clutching at his forearm, desperate for something to hold onto as the pressure inside you nears its breaking point. And then he stops. A broken whine rips from your throat as he pulls his fingers away, leaving you throbbing, aching for release. Your hips jerk, searching for friction, but he tightens his grip on your waist, holding you still.

His lips are back at your ear, dark amusement lacing his voice. “You wanna come, baby?” You nod desperately, frustration clear in the way you squirm against him. His smirk is evident in his tone, teasing, full of control. “Then beg for it.”

A desperate whimper leaves your lips as you try to push back against his hand, chasing your release, but his grip tightens around your waist, holding you in place. You shudder, your pride warring with your need, but the ache between your legs is unbearable, your body throbbing with want. “Please,” you whisper, your voice barely there, breathless.

His fingers ghost over your clit, just enough to make you whimper. “Louder.”

“Please,” you repeat, more desperate now, shifting in his hold, but he keeps you still, his restraint only making you needier.

He chuckles, low and dark, his free hand sliding up to cup your throat, tilting your head back against his shoulder. His lips brush against your jaw, featherlight. “I know you can do better than that, princess.”

You swallow hard, your skin burning under his touch, under his dominance, and finally, you let go. “Please, Beomgyu,” you beg, voice trembling, raw with want. “I need it. I need you.”

His grip tightens just enough to make your breath hitch, a satisfied hum vibrating in his chest. “That’s my good girl.”

And then, he gives you exactly what you want. His fingers find your clit again, rubbing firm, deliberate circles, before slipping back inside you, fucking you open with a pace that has you arching against him, gasping his name like it’s the only word you know. “Careful, baby,” he warns, voice low and taunting. “If you’re not quiet, everybody’s gonna hear how good my fingers are fucking you.”

The realization sends a fresh wave of heat through your body. The muffled bass of the music vibrates through the walls, laughter and conversation hum in the background—but none of it matters. You’re drowning in him, in the way he’s looking at you, in the way he’s holding you like he owns you.

Beomgyu smirks. “Unless you want them to hear,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with amusement. “Wanna let them know who’s making you feel this good?”

His words send a shiver down your spine, your body burning with both embarrassment and excitement. He chuckles, dragging his lips down your jaw, your neck, nipping at your skin before whispering against it. “Go on, then,” he taunts, voice thick with desire. “You gonna scream for me, princess? Come hard for me—tell me who owns you.”

Your only response is a broken moan as the coil in your stomach tightens, every nerve in your body wound impossibly tight. His fingers curl just right, stroking over that perfect spot inside you, his palm pressing against your clit with every movement, dragging you higher, closer.

“Beomgyu—” You choke out his name, legs trembling as the pleasure crashes over you, white-hot and all-consuming. Your entire body clenches around him, a sharp cry spilling from your lips as you come undone in his arms.

He groans, feeling you pulse around his fingers, his own need surging at the way you fall apart for him. “That’s right, baby,” he murmurs, voice rough, hungry. “All mine.”

His fingers don’t stop, drawing out every aftershock, making sure you feel every last bit of pleasure. He watches you with a satisfied smirk, loving the way your body shudders against him, the way your chest rises and falls as you struggle to catch your breath.

“You did so good, princess,” he whispers, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his fingers still tracing lazy circles over your overstimulated clit, just enough to make your thighs twitch. “So fucking good for me.”

His touch lingers, his fingers gliding over your flushed skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the promise in his voice. Slowly, he pulls his fingers from you, bringing them up to his lips, his gaze locked onto yours as he sucks them into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you. “Fuck,” he breathes, his tongue flicking over his fingers before releasing them with a wet pop. “You’re so sweet, baby.”

His hands find your waist again, flipping you effortlessly so that you’re straddling his lap now, facing him. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with need as he runs his hands down your sides, over your thighs, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

“I need more,” he confesses, his voice low, rough. “I need to feel you completely.” His hands slide to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel him—hard, straining, aching for you. “You want that too, don’t you, princess?” he murmurs, his fingers digging into your hips. “Want me to fill you up, make you mine?”

His lips find yours, his kiss deep and all-consuming, stealing your breath, your thoughts, everything. He’s still teasing you, rolling his hips up against yours, the friction deliciously torturous, but not enough. You whimper into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging him closer. “Please.” His lips curl into a smirk against yours.

He groaned low in his chest, the sound vibrating through you, his breath was shallow, his eyes half-lidded, heavy with need. His hands gripped your waist like they couldn’t bear to let go. "Ride me, princess," he murmured, voice hoarse, laced with the kind of desire that made your stomach tighten. "I want to watch you fall apart for me."

You shivered, heart pounding in your ears as you shifted your hips. The stretch as you sank down onto him was slow, deliberate, breathtaking. His head dropped back slightly, a deep curse escaping his lips as your body took him in inch by inch. You bit your lip at the sensation, your nails digging into his shoulders to keep yourself grounded.

Beomgyu’s hands slid up your thighs, firm and reverent, as though he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to worship you or completely ruin you. "God, baby," he groaned. "You feel so tight."

You moved gently at first, adjusting to the rhythm, the feel of him so deep inside you. But the tension built quickly, each roll of your hips sparking a fire in your belly. It wasn’t just the friction, the heat, the way your bodies fit together like they were made for this. It was the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that had ever made sense to him.

"Faster," he rasped, his fingers tightening on your hips. "Let go, baby, fuck—"

You obeyed. The sound of skin against skin filled the room as you picked up pace, riding him harder now, chasing the release that curled in your spine. His hands roamed your body like he was trying to memorize you, palms smoothing over your waist, thumbs brushing your nipples, fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you down for another kiss.

"You’re so fucking beautiful," he whispered into your mouth, like it was the only truth he knew. You leaned into him, your hands braced against his chest, your forehead resting against his. His eyes never left yours, even when the pleasure threatened to overwhelm him, even when your moans turned into cries, and his own control began to slip.

"That’s it," he growled, thrusting up to meet you, his voice rough with desperation. "Show me how good it feels. Let me hear you, baby."

And you did. You cried out his name, your body trembling as your orgasm tore through you. Your walls clenched around him, and that was all it took—Beomgyu cursed, his grip bruising as he followed you over the edge, his body shuddering against yours.

For a long moment, you didn’t move. Your bodies were tangled, your breaths uneven, your heartbeats frantic. Then, slowly, you collapsed forward into his chest, your forehead resting against the curve of his neck. And then—

The doorknob rattles.

Your entire body tenses, your breath hitching as your eyes snap open, panic shooting through you. Beomgyu freezes too, his hands still gripping your waist as you both turn toward the door, hearts pounding in unison.

Someone trying to come in. You swallow hard, your mind racing. Shit. Then, voices. Someone outside the door, their footsteps heavy against the floor. “Wait, why’s this locked?” A muffled voice, followed by the sound of someone rattling the handle.

Beomgyu looks back at you, his brows raised slightly, waiting for your call. His lips are parted, his chest rising and falling fast with his still-unspent desire, but his grip on you loosens slightly, giving you an out. You hesitate, your body still buzzing, still needing him. But reality crashes back in like a cold wave, if you stay here any longer, someone will figure it out. You shake your head, exhaling shakily. “We should go back.”

Beomgyu groans, tilting his head back against the couch in frustration. “You’re kidding.”

You bite your lip, already knowing he’s going to make this difficult. “If we don’t, someone’s going to know, Gyu.”

He lets out a deep, exasperated sigh, his hands flexing against your hips. Then, he leans in, lips brushing against your jaw, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You know I’m not done with you,” he murmurs, nipping lightly at your earlobe before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. “And you owe me for this.”

Your stomach tightens at the promise in his voice, at the way his fingers trail one last lingering touch down your thigh before he finally releases you. He watches as you scramble to collect your clothes, his smirk growing when he sees how shaken you still are. He doesn’t move right away, instead, he leans back against the couch, legs spread lazily apart, watching you with dark amusement as he runs a hand through his messy hair. He’s still catching his breath, his lips still swollen from kissing you, his body still burning with the ghost of your touch. And he loves it.

He finally moves, pushing himself up from the couch, stretching slightly before reaching for his clothes. His movements are unhurried, deliberate, as if he’s in no rush to leave the little world you two just created. He grabs his shirt first, then his fingers work at his belt, refastening his pants with ease, like this was just another ordinary moment for him. Except, it wasn’t. Not even close.

Beomgyu's jaw clenches slightly as he tugs his jacket back on, shaking his head like he can somehow rid himself of the frustration pooling deep in his gut. Meanwhile, you move toward the door, pressing your ear against it, holding your breath as you listen for any movement on the other side. Your fingers tighten around the handle, hesitating before slowly cracking it open just enough to peek through.

The hallway is empty. You exhale in relief, throwing one last glance over your shoulder at him. "I’m going first," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. "Wait a minute before you come out."

Beomgyu tilts his head, studying you, his lips curving into something smug. "Scared someone’s gonna find out what a mess you are for me?"

You roll your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you. "Shut up."

He chuckles, low and knowing, his eyes still dark with amusement. But just as you turn toward the door, reaching for the handle, his fingers wrap around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Before you can react, he tugs you back, firm but gentle, until you’re flush against his chest.

He’s looking at you now, really looking, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, something unreadable swirling in the depths of his expression. There’s no teasing smirk, no playful remark. Just the weight of everything unsaid, everything still buzzing between you like a live wire.

And then he kisses you. His lips pressing against yours like he’s memorizing the way you taste. His hand cups your jaw, fingers sliding into your hair, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss. You melt into him instantly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket, clinging. By the time he pulls away, you’re breathless. Dazed.

His forehead rests against yours, his lips still brushing yours as he murmurs, “I’m not done with you.” His voice is low, rough, thick with something dangerous. Your stomach flips, your knees nearly giving out at the sheer promise in his words. But then, he steps back, releasing you, his smirk returning as he watches you struggle to steady yourself. “Now you can go,” he says, voice laced with amusement.

You blink up at him, still caught in the haze of his kiss, before shaking yourself back to reality. With one last glance, one last moment of hesitation, you turn and slip out of the room, carefully closing the door behind you.

Beomgyu exhales sharply, his body finally relaxing as he leans against the door, his forehead pressing against the wood. His fingers drag through his already-messy hair, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment. Fuck. He’s so fucked.

He licks his lips, still tasting you, still feeling the warmth of your body against his. His heart is still racing, his skin still burning, and all he can think about is you.

With a quiet groan, he pushes off the door, shaking his head, trying to collect himself. But as he reaches for the handle, ready to step back into the party, there’s only one thought looping through his mind— He needs more. And next time, he’s going to take it.

You stepped back into the party like nothing had happened. Like your entire world hadn’t just shifted in the span of a few stolen moments behind closed doors. Laughter spilled over conversations, and people moved around you, blissfully unaware that your hands were still unsteady, that your lips were still tingling, that your heartbeat was still uneven.

You exhaled slowly, smoothing down your dress, forcing yourself to shake off the lingering haze of him. Then, without hesitation, you made your way toward the bar. A drink. You needed a drink.

The bartender barely glanced at you as he slid a glass across the counter, and you took a sip, letting the cold burn of alcohol ground you. Your fingers tapped against the side of the glass, your mind replaying the last few minutes over and over like a song stuck on loop, his hands, his voice, the weight of his body against yours, the way he had looked at you.

You straightened your shoulders, pushing the thought aside. You had just started convincing yourself that maybe you could pull this off.

"There you are." You barely had time to react before Yeonjun appeared beside you, his presence as effortless as always. He leaned against the counter, eyes scanning your face before narrowing slightly. "You disappeared."

You took another sip of your drink, pretending to be unbothered. “I didn’t disappear. I was just—” You waved a hand vaguely. “Talking.”

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. “Talking?”

"Yes, talking," you repeated, maybe a little too quickly.

He studied you for a second, then his lips curled slightly, his gaze flickering over your face before settling somewhere lower. "Then why does your lipstick look like that?"

Your stomach dropped. Shit. Your hand shot up to your lips on instinct. Yeonjun just watched, amusement growing by the second as realization dawned on him. "Oh my god," he breathed, eyes widening before he full-on cackled. "Oh my fucking god—"

"No," you blurted, already turning on your heel, "Nope. Absolutely not."

But it was too late. Yeonjun was already following, laughter spilling out of him like he had just uncovered the world’s greatest mystery. "Wait—" He grabbed your wrist, doubling over slightly. "Wait, wait, wait. Oh my fucking god. You were with Beomgyu, weren’t you?"

"Shut up," you hissed, wrenching your arm free, heat creeping up your neck. "People can hear you."

Yeonjun ignored you completely, still laughing as you beelined for the bathroom. "Oh my god, I knew it," he called after you. "I fucking knew it!"

You slammed the door behind you. Your reflection stared back at you in the mirror, lips slightly smudged, hair a little messier than before. You let out a slow breath, gripping the sink. You let out a slow breath, gripping the sink, trying to steady yourself. What the fuck just happened?

Your fingers trembled as you reached for your lipstick, twisting the tube up with a quiet click. You applied it carefully, slow and methodical, as if fixing your makeup could somehow fix the way your heart was still racing, the way your entire body felt like it was buzzing. But it didn’t. Not when your mind kept circling back to him.

To the way he had looked at you. To the way he had touched you. To the way he had sounded, breathless, wrecked, whispering your name like it was something sacred. God. How had you even ended up here? It had always been like this with Beomgyu, hadn’t it? The back-and-forth, the push and pull. The constant teasing, the relentless competition, the stupid banter that never seemed to stop.

And now? Now, you could still feel him, his hands, his lips, the warmth of his breath against your skin. You swallowed hard, dabbing the corner of your mouth where your lipstick had smudged. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This shouldn’t have happened. And yet, when you closed your eyes, all you could see was him.

The party eventually began to wind down. You let yourself blend into the crowd, trying to push away the mess of thoughts cluttering your mind, focusing on the conversations happening around you instead. Yeonjun had reappeared at some point, entirely too pleased with himself, and Taehyun had joined him, both of them now perched on one of the couches, drinks in hand. "You good?" Taehyun asked, raising an eyebrow as you dropped down beside them.

You nodded, even though you didn’t really feel good at all. "Yeah, just tired."

Yeonjun snorted. "Tired, huh?"

You shot him a look. He just grinned, leaning closer. "You were gone for a while—"

"Yeonjun," you warned. He threw his hands up in mock surrender, but the smirk never left his face.

You sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. The music had quieted a little, the energy in the room beginning to fizzle out. People were leaving in waves, slipping out the doors in pairs or groups, laughter and quiet goodbyes trailing after them.

You should go too. And judging by the way Yeonjun was now half-asleep against the armrest, you weren’t the only one ready to call it a night. It took both you and Taehyun to practically carry Yeonjun outside. "He’s not that heavy," Taehyun grumbled, adjusting his grip under Yeonjun’s arm.

You huffed. "Says the guy using me as leverage."

Yeonjun, for his part, was completely useless, mumbling incoherent nonsense as you finally managed to get him to stand on his own two feet. Your taxi would be here any minute. You pulled out your phone, glancing at the time.

That’s when you heard your name. You looked up, spotting Baekhyun a few feet away, standing near the curb, engaged in conversation with another man from the industry. When his eyes met yours, he gave you a knowing smile.

"Get home safe," he said smoothly. Then, after a brief pause, "We’ll have a lot to talk about on Monday."

You blinked. Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. But before you could even begin to decipher what he meant, he was already turning back to his conversation. You frowned slightly, but exhaustion was already pulling at your limbs. Whatever it was, you could deal with it later.

Your taxi pulled up to the curb. You helped Yeonjun into the car, settling into the seat beside him, finally letting yourself breathe. You sank back, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.

And then, a feeling. Like someone was watching. You turned your head toward the window. And there he was. Beomgyu. Standing on the curb, hands in his pockets, waiting for his own ride. But his eyes were on you. Your breath caught slightly. He didn’t look away. Instead, his hand moved, slipping into his pocket, pulling out his phone. A second later, your own phone buzzed in your lap. You swallowed, pulse unsteady as you glanced down at the screen.

A message. From him.

[beomgyu]: lmk when you get home

Your chest tightened. You stared at the words for a long moment, lips pressing together. You stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, but you didn’t type anything. Not yet. Instead, you let your phone fall back into your lap, exhaling slowly as you turned to the window again. Beomgyu was still standing there, still watching, still waiting for something you didn’t know how to give him.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, slumping slightly against the seat as the city lights blurred past the window. The weight of the night settled over you. The way Beomgyu had looked at you. The way his voice had felt against your skin. The way he had pulled you in, and then, just as quickly, pushed you away.

You didn’t know what to make of it. Of him. Of anything. So you didn’t think about it. Not now. Instead, you closed your eyes and let the hum of the car lull you into something close to peace, if only for a moment.

You woke up to the sound of your phone vibrating against your nightstand. You groaned, rolling over, face half-buried in your pillow as you reached for it blindly. The screen glowed too bright in the early morning light, your vision still hazy with sleep as you blinked at the notifications.

[beomgyu]: i can’t stop thinking about you

Your stomach dropped. Suddenly, you were very awake. You sat up so fast that your blanket slipped from your shoulders, your heart hammering against your ribs. Your fingers tightened around the phone, as if gripping it any harder would somehow make the words disappear.

I can’t stop thinking about you. You swallowed. No way. No fucking way.

You stared at the message, your body frozen, caught between panic and something you weren’t ready to name. What the hell were you supposed to say to that? Your throat was dry. Your fingers twitched over the keyboard, but no words came. Nothing would come.

But even as you moved, even as you tried to shove the thought aside, he was still there. Still lingering. The heat of his hands on your waist, the press of his fingers against your skin, the way his voice had sounded, low, rough, wrecked, against your ear. Do you have any idea how fucking insane you make me?

A shiver ran down your spine. You squeezed your eyes shut for a second, trying to push it away, but the memories came crashing down anyway.

So you did the only thing you could do. You ignored it. For now. You tossed the phone onto your nightstand, exhaling sharply as you dragged your hands down your face. No. Not now. You needed a second. You needed coffee.

You pushed yourself out of bed, slipping on a hoodie as you padded out of your room, making a beeline for Yeonjun’s. His door was cracked open, the faint sound of groaning filtering through. You pushed it open with your foot, leaning against the doorway. Yeonjun was sprawled across his bed like he had been thrown there, an arm slung dramatically over his face, his blanket half on the floor. His entire existence looked like a hangover. "You alive?" you asked, voice still raspy from sleep.

Yeonjun let out a painful groan, barely shifting. "Barely."

You snorted, stepping into the room. "You look like death."

"I feel like death," he mumbled, peeking out from under his arm. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair an absolute mess. "What time is it?"

You checked your phone out of habit, and your stomach twisted. Beomgyu’s message still sat there. You locked the screen before you could think about it. "Almost ten," you said, crossing your arms.

Yeonjun just made another noise of suffering. Then, with zero warning, he peeked at you again, his voice shifting. "You gonna tell me what’s got you looking like you’ve seen a ghost, or am I gonna have to guess?"

Your heart stopped. "I—" You forced a scoff, too quick. "I don’t look like I’ve seen a ghost."

Yeonjun stared at you. Then his lips curled. "Ah," he hummed, way too amused now. "So this is a boy thing."

Your entire body flamed. "Oh my god, shut up."

He grinned, slow and dangerous. "Wait—wait, is this a Beomgyu thing?"

"I’m leaving." You turned on your heel immediately, making a break for the door, but Yeonjun was faster.

He grabbed your wrist, yanking you back onto the bed with zero mercy. You yelped as you landed next to him, already struggling to get up, but he just slung an arm over your shoulders, trapping you there. "Spill," he ordered.

You scowled, shoving at his chest. "No."

"Spill."

"No."

Yeonjun narrowed his eyes. Then, with a slow, shit-eating smirk— "I’ll start singing."

Your blood ran cold. "You wouldn’t," you whispered. Yeonjun cleared his throat. "Yeonjun, no."

He inhaled dramatically. "OH, I THINK THAT I FOUND MYSEL—"

"OKAY! OKAY!" You slammed a pillow over his face, groaning. "You’re so fucking annoying."

He laughed, victorious, pushing the pillow away. "That’s what I thought. Now talk."

You hesitated. Your fingers curled around the blanket, heart pounding again as Beomgyu’s message flashed in your mind. I can’t stop thinking about you. You swallowed while you showed your phone to Yeonjun, who immediately gasped. You sighed, looking away. "It’s just—" You stopped, frustration bubbling in your chest. "He’s just confusing."

Yeonjun hummed. "Yeah, well. You’re both idiots, so that checks out."

You shot him a look. "Shut up," you mumbled, pushing yourself up.

Yeonjun let you go this time, watching as you made your way toward the door. "You should probably answer him, you know," he called lazily. You didn’t respond. And as you stepped out into the hallway, you definitely didn’t check your phone again. But the words still sat there. Waiting.

You tried to go about your day like normal. Tried. But no matter what you did, he was there. In your head. Even as you made coffee. Even as you scrolled mindlessly through your phone. Even as you curled up on the couch, flipping through Netflix without actually watching anything.

Beomgyu. Beomgyu. Beomgyu. The words on your screen wouldn’t stop echoing. Your stomach twisted every time you thought about it. Because neither could you.

Yeonjun stayed home most of the morning, alternating between dramatically draping himself across the couch and playing games on his phone. But eventually, in the afternoon, he stretched lazily and grabbed his keys.

"I’m going to the gym," he announced, throwing his bag over his shoulder. You hummed in response. You kept your eyes on the TV, even though you weren’t paying attention to a single second of it. "You gonna survive without me?" Yeonjun teased, leaning against the doorframe.

You rolled your eyes. "I think I’ll manage."

He grinned, pushing off the frame. "Alright, if you say so. Try not to combust while I’m gone."

You shot him a glare, but he was already heading out the door, laughing. Your fingers twitched. Your phone was sitting right next to you. Waiting. It would be so easy. You exhaled slowly, staring at it like it might explode. You weren’t the type to text guys. But for some reason, today felt different.

Maybe it was the way he had looked at you before you got into your taxi. Maybe it was the way he had sent that message in the first place. Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t stop thinking about him too, and it was driving you insane.

Your heart pounded as you grabbed your phone, unlocking it with shaky fingers. You opened your messages. Pulled up his name. Took a deep breath. And typed.

[you]: i can’t stop thinking about you too.

The moment you hit send, your pulse skyrocketed. Seconds passed. The message was read. You held your breath. Waiting. Waiting. But nothing came. Beomgyu didn’t respond. You stared at the screen, heart hammering, but he did nothing. You had no idea what that meant. And somehow, it made you even more restless.

You spent the rest of the weekend pretending you were fine. You weren’t.

Beomgyu had read your message and said nothing, and the longer you went without a response, the worse it got. You tried to distract yourself. Hung out with Yunjin for a bit. Had dinner with Yeonjun. Went on an unnecessary grocery run just to get out of the apartment.

But every free second, he was there. The memory of his hands, his voice, the way he had pulled you so close, like he was scared to let go. And now he was ignoring you? You wanted to scream.

By the time Sunday night rolled around, you had officially given up on getting an answer. Maybe he regretted it. Maybe he had just been drunk. Maybe this was just another one of his stupid mind games.

Fine. If he wasn’t going to respond, you weren’t going to chase after him. Not this time.

Your alarm dragged you out of sleep way too soon, and you groaned, rolling over to shut it off. For a brief second, you thought about skipping work. About calling in sick, or lying about having some urgent errand, or just disappearing off the face of the earth. But no. You had an album to release. And unfortunately, you had to be professional, even when your entire brain was occupied by a certain songwriter. With a sigh, you rolled out of bed, forcing yourself to get moving.

Yeonjun was already up when you entered the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his hair still messy from sleep. "Morning," he mumbled, squinting at you. "You look like hell."

"Gee, thanks," you muttered, grabbing a mug and pouring yourself a cup.

Yeonjun snorted, leaning against the counter. "You excited to go back to work?"

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you took a long sip of coffee, staring down into the dark liquid. Excited? Not exactly. Dreading it? Maybe.

Because today was Monday. Which meant you’d have to see Beomgyu. And you had no idea what to expect. How the hell were you supposed to look Beomgyu in the eye after everything? After the way he had touched you, held you, whispered filthy things against your skin like he had been waiting to say them? After the way you had felt underneath him, pinned between his hands, his voice praising you, ruining you, claiming you?

You pressed your fingers to your temples, exhaling sharply. Fuck. This wasn’t good. You weren’t some naive idiot who got attached just because someone touched you the right way. But something about him—about this—had been different. And he knew it too.

Which was exactly why he had ignored your message all weekend. And yet, your stomach tightened at the thought of seeing him today. Not with nerves, not with anger, but with something far, far worse. Anticipation. You hated it. You hated how much you wanted to see him. How much you wanted to know if he was thinking about you, too. How much you wanted to know if he regretted it. Or if he wanted more.

By the time you stepped into the HYBE building, the album was practically finished. All that was left was refining the final details. You told yourself that’s what you should be focusing on. Not Beomgyu. Not his hands. His voice. The way he had looked at you like you were something he wanted to ruin. God. Focus.

You made your way through the hallways, nodding politely at a few people who passed, ignoring the slight pit of anxiety settling in your stomach. You weren’t even sure why, until you stepped into your studio. And saw the coffee sitting on your desk.

You froze. There was no note. No explanation. But you knew. Your heart skipped. It was him. You stared at it for a long moment, a lump forming in your throat. It was the same drink you always got. The exact way you liked it.

It was so stupid, so small, so insignificant. And yet, it wasn’t. Because Beomgyu didn’t do things like this. Beomgyu teased you, provoked you, argued with you until you were ready to strangle him. He didn’t leave quiet gestures like this behind. Not for you. You swallowed, your fingers twitching at your sides. Should you text him? Call him out for it? Say something?

Before you could decide, your phone buzzed. A message from Baekhyun.

[baekhyun]: hey, can we talk for a sec?

You let out a slow breath, grabbing the coffee and taking a sip as you sat down. You ignored the way your stomach fluttered. Ignored the way your skin still felt too hot. And ignored the fact that you knew exactly who was responsible for that. You exhaled slowly, staring at the message on your phone.

[you]: sure. be there in a minute.

Sliding your phone into your pocket, you took another sip of coffee, letting the warmth settle in your chest. It didn’t help. Still, you got up, straightened your posture, and made your way to Baekhyun’s office.

When you reached his door, you knocked lightly before stepping inside. "Hey. You wanted to talk?"

Baekhyun glanced up from his desk, motioning for you to close the door behind you. "Yeah. Come in."

You obeyed, taking a seat across from him, studying his face carefully. Something was off. Baekhyun was usually relaxed, even when discussing work, always carrying that effortless charm that made him easy to talk to. But right now, his expression was unreadable, something hovering between serious and hesitant.

Your stomach twisted. "What’s up?"

Baekhyun leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. "Listen… you know I think you’re one of my best employees, right?"

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Uh… thanks?"

"Which is why," he continued, fingers tapping lightly against the desk, "I need to tell you something. And I need you to understand that this is me looking out for you." Your stomach tightened, as you looked at him, letting him continue. He sighed, rolling his shoulders before meeting your gaze. "So, about Seungcheol…"

Your spine stiffened immediately. "What about him?"

Baekhyun hesitated for a second, like he was trying to figure out how to phrase his next words. And then, carefully, he said: "He knows."

Your heart stopped. A beat of silence stretched between you. Your fingers curled around the armrest of your chair, knuckles white. "Knows what?" you asked, voice careful.

Baekhyun gave you a pointed look. "You know what."

Your pulse pounded in your ears. Seungcheol knows. About you. About Beomgyu. Fuck. You swallowed, keeping your expression as unreadable as possible. "That’s… my personal business," you said slowly. "I don’t see how it’s relevant to work."

"You’re right," Baekhyun agreed, nodding. "It’s not. But I’m telling you because I need you to be careful."

You crossed your arms, shifting in your seat. "What does that even mean?"

Baekhyun sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before leaning forward, lowering his voice. "Seungcheol is creative director. That means he has a lot of influence in this company. And for whatever reason, he’s got his eye on you."

A chill ran down your spine. "And that means?"

"It means he’s paying attention to things," Baekhyun said. "To you and Beomgyu. To how you work together, to how you interact. And while I don’t know exactly what he’s thinking, I do know one thing—he’s not the type to sit back and do nothing."

Your jaw tightened. "You think he’ll try something?"

Baekhyun didn’t answer right away. He just watched you, gaze steady, unreadable. "I think he doesn’t like Beomgyu," he said carefully. "And I think he has an interest in you."

You inhaled sharply. There it was. That uneasy feeling in your stomach, the one you had pushed down every time Seungcheol spoke to you. The way his words always felt just a little too… pointed. The way his gaze lingered. The way Beomgyu had told you to be careful. You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head. "I don’t—this is insane. Seungcheol can’t just—"

"I know," Baekhyun cut in. "Which is why I’m telling you first. Just be careful. Be smart."

Your fingers tightened in your lap. You hated this. Hated the idea that someone was watching you like this. That Seungcheol was watching you. That Beomgyu had been right. You swallowed down the irritation curling in your chest. "Got it."

Baekhyun studied you for a moment longer before nodding. "Good." Then, just a little softer, "And Y/N?" You met his gaze. "Whatever this is between you and Beomgyu… make sure it’s worth it."

Your breath caught. Because the thing was— You didn’t know. And that scared you more than anything else.

You didn’t realize how tight your chest had gotten until you were out of Baekhyun’s office, walking quickly down the hall with your arms wrapped around yourself. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered too brightly, the sounds of your coworkers echoing faintly in your ears as your thoughts raced. Seungcheol knows.

Your heart pounded with each step, and all you could think about was Beomgyu—his smile, his voice, the way he touched you like he didn’t care who saw. But he should. Because now, someone was watching. Someone powerful. Someone who didn’t like him.

You paused outside your studio door, forcing yourself to take a breath, to steady your hands before you reached for the handle. When you stepped inside, the first thing you saw was him.

Beomgyu was already there, perched on the edge of your couch, his guitar on his lap. His face lit up the second you walked in, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled, really smiled. “Took you long enough.”

Something inside you clenched. The warmth of his expression, the softness in his voice. He had no idea. “I brought you coffee earlier,” he added. “Cause I didn’t know what mood you’d be in, so I just guessed. But, y’know, I’ve been working on my psychic powers.”

You smiled, barely, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. Beomgyu tilted his head, watching you. “What?” he asked softly. “What happened?”

You shook your head, trying to brush it off. “Nothing. Just… long meeting.”

He set the guitar aside and stood, taking a step toward you. “Was it Baekhyun?”

You nodded, lowering your bag to the floor. “Yeah.”

“He say something about the album?” Beomgyu’s brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” you said too quickly. You avoided his eyes, moving to your desk under the guise of organizing the notes you’d left behind. “Everything’s fine. He just wanted to go over some deadlines.”

Beomgyu didn’t respond right away. You felt his eyes on you, sharp and searching. “You’re lying,” he said eventually, voice quieter. You froze. He stepped closer. “Y/N…”

“I said it’s fine,” you replied, sharper than you meant to. You heard the way his breath hitched, just slightly, but he didn’t say anything right away. He just looked at you, the softness fading from his face as something more cautious settled there. And that was the worst part.

You didn’t want to push him away. You didn’t want to build walls again. But Baekhyun’s words rang in your ears like a warning bell. Whatever this is between you and Beomgyu… make sure it’s worth it. You weren’t even sure what this was.

Beomgyu stepped back, giving you space. “Did I… do something?”

Your throat tightened. You hated that he asked that. Hated the way he looked almost hurt. “No,” you said, forcing your voice to be gentler. “You didn’t.”

But that didn’t make it better. Because you weren’t pulling away from him, you were pulling away for him. And he could tell. He gave a small nod, eyes flicking away. “Okay,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Let me know if that changes.”

You turned to him then, finally meeting his gaze. “It’s not you.”

His eyes lingered on yours. “Then what is it?”

You didn’t answer. Because how could you tell him that Seungcheol might be waiting for one misstep? That you could handle it, but he might not be so lucky? That you were scared for him in ways you couldn’t say out loud?

So instead, you offered a weak smile and said, “Can we just… work for a while?”

There was a beat of silence. A single breath. And then he nodded, once, slow, as if the word itself cost him something. “Yeah,” he murmured, but his voice was thinner now, stretched tight across something fragile. “If that’s what you want.”

You looked away, unable to meet the flicker in his eyes, the way it dimmed just slightly as he stepped back. The room suddenly felt too quiet. “Guess I’ll head back to my studio,” he said, and this time, there was no teasing in his tone. “Let me know if you need anything.”

And before you could say anything, before you could stop him, he was already at the door. When it clicked shut behind him, the sound echoed louder than it should have. You didn’t move for a long moment. Just sat there, frozen, staring at the coffee cup he’d brought for you, the one you hadn’t touched. Your fingers trembled slightly as you reached for it, but it had already gone cold. Just like everything else.

The rest of your afternoon passed in a blur of contracts and emails. Finalizing track credits. Budget approvals. Lining up promotional schedules. You barely registered the words anymore, your hand moved, your eyes scanned, your mouth replied when someone entered your office to ask for your signature, but none of it stuck. You were on autopilot.

Because your head wasn’t in the album anymore. It was on him. Beomgyu.

You kept picturing the way his expression had shifted when you pulled away. Not in body, but in presence. Like he felt you slipping. Like he already knew that the warmth between you was being swallowed by fear. And it was. You were terrified.

Terrified of what Seungcheol could do. Terrified of how quickly everything you’d built with Beomgyu—through fights, through tension, through music, through moments—could be taken away just because someone with too much power had decided they didn’t like seeing him happy.

And that’s what it was, wasn’t it? He was happy. With you. And you were ruining it. Because your fear was louder than your hope.

You stared at the screen in front of you, realizing you’d been hovering over the same file for ten minutes without doing anything. You blinked hard, trying to focus, but the words blurred, your thoughts spiraling again. What if he gets fired? What if Seungcheol says something? What if this is all your fault?

You buried your face in your hands, elbows pressed against the desk. You couldn’t protect him. You couldn’t even tell him what was going on. And worst of all: you weren’t sure he’d forgive you if he ever found out you knew and didn’t say anything.

You wanted to keep him safe. But not at the cost of this quiet unraveling between you. Not at the cost of pretending you didn’t care.

You pulled your phone from your pocket, hesitating for a long moment before unlocking it. His name sat at the top of your messages, unread, untouched since the night he told you he couldn’t stop thinking about you. And neither could you. But now you wondered if staying silent had already done the damage for you.

It was late, again. The building had gone quiet, long emptied by interns and execs and artists alike. You sat curled in your office chair, arms wrapped around yourself as your eyes stayed fixed on your phone screen. You’d been staring at it for ten minutes before finally giving in.

[you]: are you still at the company?

The reply came quicker than you expected.

[beomgyu]: yeah. why?

[you]: can we talk?

Another pause. Then:

[beomgyu]: sure. you know where to find me

You hesitated only a second longer before standing. You didn’t bother gathering your things. Just grabbed your hoodie, slipped into your sneakers, and made your way down the hallway. His studio door was cracked open when you arrived. You paused outside for a beat, just long enough to collect your breath, and pushed it open slowly.

He was sitting on the couch, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, legs stretched out in front of him. He looked tired, like the weight of the entire week was pressing down on his shoulders. But when he saw you, he straightened slightly.

Before you could speak, he did.

“Before you say anything,” he said, voice steady but low, “I just want you to know I don’t regret anything.”

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

He scoffed softly, running a hand through his hair. “It’s fine. I mean, I get it. You’re here to break things off, right? Whatever this is.”

You stared at him, mouth parting slightly. “Beomgyu…”

“I mean, technically, we were never even anything, right?” he went on, tone deceptively light, but his eyes were anything but. “So there’s nothing to end. I guess.”

You stepped into the room fully, closing the door behind you. The soft click echoed between you. “Why would you think I’m here to end things?”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely. “Because you’ve been avoiding me all day,” he said. “Because you look at me like I’ve already done something wrong.” His voice softened. “Because something’s changed. And I don’t know what it is.”

You swallowed hard. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” he asked, a little more sharply now. “Because I’m sitting here, trying to keep it together, trying not to push you, and it’s driving me fucking crazy, Y/N. But you’re here. So what is it?”

You opened your mouth, but the words caught in your throat. Because you wanted to tell him. You wanted to say everything: about Seungcheol, about Baekhyun’s warning, about your fear of him getting hurt, losing his job, being targeted just for being with you. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t risk it.

So instead, you said the only thing that came close. “I’m scared.”

Beomgyu’s jaw tensed. “Of what? Me?”

“No!” you said quickly. “God, no. Of everything else.”

“Then tell me,” he said, quieter now. Pleading. “Let me in. Let me help.”

Your arms wrapped tighter around yourself. “I just… I don’t want to do anything that could hurt you.”

“You aren’t hurting me,” he said. “But keeping me in the dark? Not trusting me? That’s what hurts.”

You turned away, pacing a step. “I do trust you.”

“Then tell me what the fuck is going on,” he said, standing now, voice low, but intense. “Because I’m standing here ready to fight for you, and I feel like I’m the only one throwing punches.”

That broke something in you. “I am fighting!” you said, voice cracking. “You just can’t see it.”

“Then show me!” he snapped. “Because right now, it feels like you’re walking away.”

You looked at him. Really looked at him. And there he was, raw, open, hurting. For you. Because of you. And for the first time, you saw the vulnerability underneath all the confidence. The boy who had let himself fall, even when he swore he wouldn’t. Even when he thought you were supposed to be just coworkers.

Your voice came out small. “I’m not walking away.”

Beomgyu’s expression flickered. “Then stop acting like you are.”

Silence fell between you. You stepped forward, just a little. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t want your protection,” he said. “I want you.”

The words landed heavy between you, honest and unflinching. Your lips parted, eyes burning, heart aching. And even though you still couldn’t say everything, you were closer now. One step closer to crossing that line completely. One step closer to choosing him.

And maybe, he was choosing you too.

You stared at him, breath caught in your throat. Your heart beat so loud it was almost all you could hear. “I want you too,” you said, the words tumbling out so fast they almost didn’t feel real. “God, of course I want you, Beomgyu.”

Something flickered across his face, relief, maybe. But it didn’t last long. “Then what the fuck is stopping you?” he demanded, stepping closer. His voice wasn’t angry, not exactly, it was hurt, raw, urgent. “Because you keep saying you want me, and then you push me away like you don't.”

You swallowed hard, backing up a step, not because you wanted to escape him, but because you needed space to think. “Because I don’t want to be the reason something happens to you,” you admitted, hands clenched at your sides. “Because I don’t want to be the reason you lose everything you’ve worked for.”

His brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?” You hesitated. “Y/N,” he said, voice low now. “Tell me.”

You shook your head once, but Beomgyu moved toward you again, gently but firmly catching your wrist.

“I’m not letting you leave here without telling me,” he said, eyes boring into yours. “I’m not playing these half-truth games anymore. Talk to me. Please.”

You stared at him for a long beat. And then you cracked. “Baekhyun called me into his office this morning,” you said, voice hoarse. “He told me Seungcheol knows.” Beomgyu didn’t move. “He knows about us,” you continued, the word still strange on your tongue. “He’s watching us. And not in a vague way. He’s paying attention. Baekhyun didn’t say it, but it’s obvious—Seungcheol’s pissed. And he’s got power, Gyu. Real power. Enough to make your life hell. Enough to kill your career if he wants.” You finally looked up, eyes shining with barely contained panic. “And I know you think you don’t care, but I do. I care. I care so fucking much it makes me sick. And the thought of being the reason you get hurt—”

“Stop,” Beomgyu cut in. Your mouth snapped shut. His eyes were wild with something sharp and intense, but not at you, never at you. “You think I give a fuck about Seungcheol?” he said, taking a step closer. “You think I’m scared of some overhyped director with a God complex?”

“Beomgyu—”

“No, you need to hear this,” he said, voice lowering. “I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am. I’ve built a name from the ground up. Every credit, every song, every fucking sleepless night—you think I’m going to let him take that from me?” Your breath hitched. “If he tries anything,” Beomgyu said, voice like steel, “I will bury him.”

You stared, stunned. “You can’t say that—”

“I can,” he snapped. “Because he’s not untouchable. And I’m not stupid. I know my worth. And if he so much as breathes in your direction the wrong way again—” He broke off, his jaw tight, breathing hard. Then, more quietly: “He doesn’t get to scare you away from me.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him he was being reckless, that this wasn’t just about pride, that the industry was cruel and unfair and it would never be a fair fight, but the words died in your throat. Because he meant it. Every word.

“I’ve never had something like this,” he continued, softer now. “Never had someone who made me want to try. And I’m not about to lose it because some washed-up director has a stick up his ass and a crush he didn’t get over.”

You blinked. “Wait—crush?”

Beomgyu’s mouth curled into a humorless smirk. “You really think he was complimenting your demos because he liked the reverb?” A beat of silence passed. And then you laughed. Just a little. A short, sharp sound that broke some of the tension in your chest. Beomgyu’s gaze softened. “Look… if this gets messy, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You looked at him, something vulnerable cracking through your guarded expression. “You mean that?” you asked, voice small.

He stepped closer, cupping your face with both hands now. “I mean it,” he said, with the kind of certainty that made your stomach flip. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, just breathing him in. Letting yourself believe him. Because you did. God, you did. And even if the world was about to come crashing down around you… at least you wouldn’t be standing in the wreckage alone.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until he moved. Slow, deliberate, like a predator who already knew the prey wasn’t going to run. His steps were quiet, but each one pressed the air out of the room a little more. His hand rose to your cheek, fingertips brushing the edge of your jaw. Featherlight, but grounding. Like he needed the reassurance that you were still here.

His thumb swept once beneath your eye, like he could erase everything unspoken. Maybe he didn’t know what to say next. Maybe it didn’t matter. You didn’t speak. Neither did he. Not with words.

But the space between you, that thrum of silence packed so tight it felt ready to burst, said everything. You leaned into the touch, just enough. Just so he’d know. And that was all it took. Beomgyu kissed you again. It started slow, like he was still afraid you’d pull away. You didn’t.

Your hands found his shoulders, clutching at the worn cotton of his hoodie. His mouth moved against yours with purpose. You gasped, and he swallowed the sound, one hand moving down to your hip, gripping tight enough to make you gasp again. He pressed forward, guiding you back a step, then another, until your spine met the cool wall of his studio. A quiet noise escaped your throat.

His leg slid between yours. You froze, just for a moment, before the pressure shifted. Your body reacted before your mind could. Hips tilting down, chasing it, mouth parting around a soft, broken sound. One that slipped out too fast to stop. Beomgyu stilled.

The kiss paused. Just long enough for your eyes to meet. And something changed. His gaze sharpened, lit with something feral and tender all at once. There was something reverent in the way he looked at you. "God, you sound so good," he murmured, leaning in to press another kiss—this time, to your neck. "So fucking good."

His leg moved again. Just slightly. Enough to pull another breathy moan from you, one you couldn’t swallow in time. Beomgyu groaned into your skin, and the sound of it, low, rough, wrecked, made your knees threaten to give. He pressed his thigh up again, firmer this time, and you arched, unable to stop yourself. "Look at you," he whispered, trailing his mouth along your jaw. "Unbelievably hot," he continued, dragging his lips along your collarbone. "Unbelievably mine."

The last part slipped out—quiet, rough, like he didn’t even mean to say it. But you felt it.

And you didn’t stop him. Didn’t correct him, didn’t laugh it off, didn’t pull away like you sometimes did when things got too real, too close. You just stayed there, letting the weight of his hands and the heat of his breath settle over your skin. Because maybe, as terrifying as it was, that was what you wanted too. Not a confession shouted across a crowded room. Not a title slapped on something that didn’t need a name. Just this. Him. The feeling of his forehead resting lightly against yours, like you were something he’d been trying to find for longer than he’d admit.

Beomgyu pulled back slightly, just enough to see you clearly. Your lips were parted, your breathing still uneven, and he looked at you like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss you again or fall to his knees. His gaze softened as he reached up, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingers slow, reverent.

“I’m not gonna push,” he said, his voice low and steady, like it cost him something to say it. “Not tonight. I just… needed you to know what this feels like for me.”

Your throat felt tight, your pulse erratic beneath your skin. You could only nod, because anything else might have made you unravel completely. But he understood. He always did.

He leaned in again, but slower this time, like he was giving you the space to stop him, to change your mind. You didn’t. And when his lips met yours again, there was no urgency, no hunger, just heat and something deeper. His kiss was soft but intense, all-consuming in its own quiet way. You could feel everything in it, every unsaid word, every fear, every time he’d looked at you across a room and thought I wish I could touch her right now.

His hand slid up the back of your neck, cradling your head like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. His other hand stayed at your waist, firm and grounding, pressing you just close enough to make your whole body buzz. And when he kissed you again, slower still, deeper, like he wanted to take his time and learn every part of your mouth, your breath hitched against him, and he sighed into you like he was finally getting a piece of peace he hadn’t known how to ask for.

You broke apart only when breathing became necessary, your foreheads resting together, the silence between you thick with everything that had just passed and everything still left to say.

“I don’t know what happens next,” you whispered, barely more than a breath between you. The words felt like they echoed, even in the stillness of the room. Your fingers were still curled in the fabric of his hoodie, anchoring yourself to something you didn’t know how to define.

Beomgyu didn’t open his eyes right away. He just let his forehead rest against yours, breathing you in like he was still steadying himself. Then, slowly, a small smile tugged at his lips. “Doesn’t matter,” he murmured, voice soft but steady. “As long as it’s with you.”

You blinked, and the warmth that bloomed in your chest nearly cracked you open. He pulled back just enough to see your face, and the moment his gaze locked with yours, something in him shifted. Your eyes were glassy, lashes clumped together with the weight of held-back tears, and he stilled.

“Hey…” he said, gently cupping your jaw. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, just slightly. “Nothing,” you whispered. “I just…” You swallowed, but the words pushed through anyway. “I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose you.”

The confession cracked open something between you. His thumb swept across your cheek, like he could catch the tear before it fully formed. “You’re not gonna lose me,” he said, firm but impossibly tender. “Okay? Not over this. Not over them. I’m right here.” You let out a quiet, shaky breath, and he leaned in again, brushing his lips against your forehead. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m serious,” you said, pulling back just a little. “This scares me. You scare me. The way I feel about you scares me.”

Beomgyu blinked, but instead of teasing or brushing it off, he nodded. “Good.”

You furrowed your brows. “Good?”

He smiled, brushing his nose against yours. “Means it’s real. Means it’s worth it.”

You stared at him for a long moment. “I think I’m in trouble with you.”

“Same,” he said with a chuckle, kissing the corner of your mouth. “You ruin me.”

You laughed softly through the tightness in your chest, letting your forehead rest against his again. “Then we’re both ruined.”

“Ruined together,” he said, grinning.

You smiled, lips brushing again, slower this time. The kind of kiss that felt like a quiet promise, not a storm. Eventually, he pulled back, his breath still brushing your lips, his thumb still tracing lazy circles against your waist. “We should go,” he murmured, his voice low and a little rough. “Before staying becomes an excuse not to leave.”

You nodded slowly, still processing the way your body buzzed just from standing this close to him. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Probably a good idea.”

As you moved to turn around, his hand reached past you, grabbing your bag off the floor before you could. He didn’t say anything about it, just slung it over his shoulder like it was second nature, like he’d already decided he was carrying it. You blinked at him. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he said, cutting you off gently. “Let’s go.”

You followed him out of the studio, steps in sync, your hand brushing against his once before he took it again without thinking. Not possessive. Just quietly his.

The hallway was dim and silent, the hum of electronics behind closed doors the only sound around you. No one else in sight. The world had shrunk to just the two of you, and it felt oddly comforting. When you stepped outside, the air was cooler than you expected, biting lightly at your skin. He handed you your bag as you adjusted your hoodie, his fingers lingering for a beat too long on yours.

You walked side by side through the empty parking structure behind the building, the silence between you calm now, warm in a way that didn’t need to be filled. Streetlights glowed overhead, casting halos onto the concrete. His knuckles brushed against yours every now and then, and eventually, his hand found yours again like it belonged there.

When you reached the main sidewalk that split toward the metro, you slowed. “This is me,” you said quietly.

He stopped beside you. “No, it’s not.”

You turned toward him, one brow raised. “It’s literally right there.”

Beomgyu tilted his head slightly, eyes steady. “You really think I’m letting you take the train this late?”

You narrowed your eyes, playful. “You letting me?”

He just stared at you for a beat. “Come with me.” His voice was different now, not teasing, not pleading. Just simple. Firm. The kind of voice that didn’t push, but didn’t give room for argument either.

You sighed, pretending to be more annoyed than you actually were. “Fine. But only because you’re being dramatic.”

He smirked. “Dramatically thoughtful.”

“You really think you’re charming, huh?”

“I don’t think,” he said, unlocking his car with a click. “I know.” You rolled your eyes, but your lips were already tugging into a smile.

The drive was quiet at first. Not awkward. Just… peaceful. He had one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift, his fingers tapping lightly to the rhythm of the song playing low on the stereo. You leaned your head back against the seat, stealing glances at him. The way the city lights shifted over his profile—sharp in some places, soft in others, like the night didn’t know how to settle on him. He looked calm. But there was a tension there too, somewhere in the set of his jaw, in the way he occasionally glanced over at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

You weren’t sure what you were looking for in his face. Maybe reassurance. Maybe confirmation that whatever was happening between you hadn’t been imagined or inflated in your head. That this, whatever this was, wasn’t a detour for him.

When he finally pulled up in front of your building, he didn’t say anything at first. Just shifted the car into park, exhaled, and stared out through the windshield like he wasn’t quite ready to let the moment end.

You turned toward him slowly, the weight of the silence between you suddenly heavier than it had been all night. “Are you sure this is okay?” you asked, voice quiet. “Everything?”

He didn’t look at you right away, but when he did, there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. An intensity, quiet and unwavering. His hand reached across the console without hesitation, resting lightly on your knee at first, then moving up, brushing along your arm, until he was cupping your face with both hands. His palms were warm, steady.

“I don’t think I’ve been more sure of anything in a long time,” he said, voice low, almost deliberate. “I know what this is. I know what I want.” Your breath caught. “I want this,” he continued, his thumbs brushing your cheeks like he needed the contact to stay grounded. “I want you. And I know I haven’t always made that easy to believe. I’ve been… inconsistent. Confusing. Scared, maybe. But I’m not anymore.”

You stared at him, something tugging at your chest, pressing in from all sides. “I want us,” he said. “Not just in the studio, not just in dark corners or in between deadlines. I want whatever this turns into, whatever it looks like. I want all of it.”

The words didn’t feel rehearsed. They weren’t poetic. But they were real. Spoken like someone who had been holding them back for too long. You didn’t respond right away. Just leaned into his touch, closed your eyes for a second. Let yourself breathe. Let yourself believe him.

When you opened your eyes again, he was still looking at you. Still holding you like you were something worth holding onto. And for the first time, you didn’t feel the instinct to back away. You didn’t flinch. You just smiled—soft, small, but true.

And then he leaned in. His hand still cradled your cheek, warm and steady, guiding you toward him like gravity had already made the decision for both of you. His eyes searched yours for half a second longer, like he was still asking for permission, even if he didn’t need to.

And then he kissed you. Slow. Warm. Sure. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that tried to prove something. It wasn’t frantic or messy or fueled by tension. It was honest. Steady. The kind of kiss that said, I meant everything I said. I’m not going anywhere.

Your hand found his jaw, fingers curling gently there, and for a moment, everything outside the car, outside this, just faded. You pulled back first, lips barely brushing as you breathed him in, eyes still closed for just a second longer than necessary. Like you wanted to remember the exact feeling of him, before it got blurred by distance or time.

“Goodnight, Beomgyu,” you whispered, voice quiet but full.

His smile was soft, thumb brushing your cheek one last time before he let his hand fall away. “Goodnight.”

You opened the car door and stepped out into the cool air, the city humming gently around you. The door shut behind you with a muted thud, and you took a few steps toward the building before instinct made you glance over your shoulder.

He was still there. Still watching.

You gave him one last smile.

And when he smiled back, it felt like a promise.

A month and a half passed. And nothing fell apart.

If anything, things settled into place in a way that felt… unfamiliar. In the best way. Not perfect. Not romanticized. Just real.

The album dropped three weeks after that night. It didn’t go viral overnight, didn’t crash any servers or cause mass hysteria. But it grew. Track by track, it moved through the charts with quiet authority. Critics noticed first, pointing out the nuance in the production, the way the songs spoke to each other without sounding formulaic, the restraint in places where others might’ve tried to be louder. And then the fans followed. Not just ENHYPEN’s fanbase, but people outside that world too, people who had no idea who you were a few months ago. Suddenly, they did. And they cared.

They don’t mention you by name right away. But then they do. And then they don’t stop.

You start showing up in places you hadn’t been invited to before. Articles, panels, inboxes. Your name, spoken out loud, attached to the word producer without hesitation. You try not to let it get to your head, but still, something shifts. You stop apologizing for your place in the room. You stop minimizing what you built.

The fans get it, too. Not just the ones who already knew the members and the brand, but others, people who found their way to track three and stayed for the whole album. Messages flood in. Tweets. Edits. Comments. Most of them are kind. A few aren’t. But it doesn’t matter. Because the music worked. You worked.

And Seungcheol is quiet now. Whatever threats he thought he could make, whatever moves he had lined up, none of them stand a chance against the numbers, against Baekhyun’s support, against your name finally meaning something too loud to ignore. After the album release, he tries to slide one snide comment into a meeting. You don’t even have to look up, Baekhyun handles it before you can blink. You never hear another word from him. Not directly.

And through all of it, Beomgyu is there.

He doesn’t hover. He doesn’t push. He never once corners you into a conversation you’re not ready for. But somehow, he’s always there. At the end of a long day, when your brain is fried and your feet ache from standing in the booth too long, he’s there—jacket in hand, keys dangling from his fingers, already unlocking his car before you even ask.

He takes you home every night. It’s not a discussion anymore; it’s routine. He doesn’t even bother saying “let me take you,” not since the second week. You just pack your things, walk out, and find him leaning against the passenger side door like he’s been waiting for you for years. Sometimes you talk during the ride. Sometimes you fall asleep, head tilted toward the window. He never minds. He always waits until you’re inside your building before driving away.

He buys your favorite snacks when he does coffee runs. Knows when you need space before you even realize it yourself. He never makes a scene at company events, never touches you in public beyond brushing his hand against your elbow or leaning in a little too close when he wants to say something only you should hear. But there’s something about him that always feels oriented toward you. Like no matter where he is in the room, some part of him is paying attention.

You don’t define it. Neither does he. Maybe because if you did, it might collapse under the weight of expectation. Or maybe it’s because this, whatever this is, feels strong enough without the scaffolding.

And you don’t ask what it means. You don’t need to.

Until one night, when you're both at a company event.

It’s formal, but not suffocating. A celebration dinner for the division’s latest wins. The ENHYPEN album is still holding steady on the charts, streaming numbers better than anyone projected. You're being introduced to people, smiling politely, answering questions about upcoming projects. Beomgyu is somewhere nearby, talking to someone from publishing, a glass of something dark in his hand, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows in that way that makes you forget what you were saying for half a second.

Later, you find yourselves standing near each other, sharing the same plate of appetizers like it’s second nature. One of the senior assistants—someone who works more with Baekhyun than you—passes by, gives you both a quick once-over, then smiles, too casual to mean anything serious. “You two are such a cute couple,” she says with a wink, already walking away.

The words hit you differently than they should.

You glance at him. He’s still chewing, eyebrows raised, like he’s not sure he heard it right either. Then he swallows and looks at you. And smiles. Not in a smug way. Not teasing. Just soft. Like maybe he liked the way that sounded. You feel the heat crawl up your neck.

“She didn’t mean anything by it,” you say, maybe a little too quickly.

“I know,” he replies. And then, after a pause, he adds, “Still kind of nice to hear.”

You don’t know what to say to that. So you laugh. Quietly. Shake your head like it’s nothing. But your stomach twists a little, and not in a bad way.

When the event wraps up, you both walk out together, the night cool on your skin. He doesn't say anything about the comment again, but when you stop by the curb and he opens the passenger door for you, his hand brushes yours just a little longer than necessary. And later, when you're almost home, he glances at you sideways while stopped at a red light.

“You know,” he says, voice low, careful, “I don’t mind if people think we’re together.”

You turn to him slowly. “Yeah?”

He nods, slower this time, turning to look at you more fully. “It’s not wrong,” he says again, but now there’s no hesitation in his voice. “Actually… it kind of feels right.”

There’s something vulnerable in his tone, bare, honest, but not scared. Just open. The way he’s always been with you, when you really let yourself see it. He isn’t hiding behind charm or sarcasm or the easy smirk he uses when he doesn’t want to say what he’s really thinking. He’s just here, right in front of you, choosing not to hold it in.

You meet his gaze and let yourself soften. Let yourself admit it too. “I think so too,” you say. “It feels right.”

He smiles, slow, wide, unguarded. The kind that starts small but stays longer than it should, like maybe this whole time you were bracing for something that never needed to come.

The rest of the ride is quiet, but no part of it feels uncertain anymore.

When he pulls up in front of your building, the car slows to a gentle stop. You undo your seatbelt, expecting the usual goodnight, the steady little ritual you’ve settled into without saying. But before your hand can reach the door, his fingers curl around your wrist, light but purposeful. You glance back at him.

His expression is unreadable for half a second. And then he tilts his head, his eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to memorize it all over again. “We make such a cute couple,” he says, tone casual, but it lands somewhere deeper. Before you can react, he leans in and kisses you. Just once. Just a press of lips to yours, soft and full of the kind of warmth that makes your heart ache a little.

Then, as he pulls back, he adds, more softly now, like it’s just for you—

“Because you’re such a cute girlfriend.”

You don’t respond right away. Just stare at him, blinking, the words settling over you like sunlight through a window. And strangely, it doesn’t feel like anything changes. It just clicks into place. Like the word had already been there this whole time, quietly waiting its turn.

You smile, then laugh under your breath, because of course that’s how he’d do it, slipping the label in with a kiss and a grin, like he knew you'd say yes before you even said anything at all. “Okay,” you whisper, still smiling. “Okay.”

But when you move to say goodbye, his hand catches yours again. He doesn’t say anything at first, just leans across the console and kisses you once more. And then again. And again. Not deep, not rushed, just soft little presses of his lips against yours, like he’s making up for all the kisses he hadn’t known he was allowed to give until now. One lands at the corner of your mouth. Another against your cheek. Then your jaw.

You laugh again, quiet and warm, and he just keeps going, brushing his nose lightly against yours like he doesn’t want to stop touching you.

“I’m happy,” he says, suddenly. It’s not dramatic. Not a confession. Just a truth he needed to say out loud. “I’m really fucking happy.”

You look at him, blinking slowly, your heart doing something unsteady inside your chest. “Me too,” you say, and you mean it. Every syllable. “I didn’t think I would be. Not like this.”

He smiles, so softly you think you might forget how to breathe. You glance out the window for a second, then back at him. The night’s quiet, and the street’s empty, and something inside you doesn’t want to let this end yet. “You wanna come up?” you ask, voice low. Then, a little lighter, “Yeonjun’s not home. He’s out tonight.”

Beomgyu blinks once. Then grins. “Are you inviting me to a sleepover?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling again. “You’re unbearable.”

“And yet,” he says, already reaching for the door handle, “you keep saying yes.”

The two of you step out into the cool air together. This time, when he grabs your hand, it’s not cautious or quiet. It’s natural. Like it’s always been there.

You lead him toward your building, and the silence between you feels full, not of tension, not of hesitation, but of all the moments that got you here. Steps that built slowly, carefully. A connection that never needed to be rushed to mean something. He walks a little closer than he needs to. His thumb brushes over your knuckles every few seconds like he’s still making sure you’re real. And you let him. You don’t say anything, don’t tease him for it. Because honestly, you kind of need to make sure he’s real too.

You unlock your door. Let him in. And in the minutes that follow, when he drops his bag by the couch and toes off his shoes and wraps his arms around you in your kitchen like it’s the most normal thing in the world, you realize something. You genuinely liked Beomgyu.

It didn’t happen all at once. That’s what you keep thinking. It wasn’t a spark or a kiss or a single moment that flipped everything. It was a slow shift. A gradual realignment. Like something quietly tuning itself inside you, one frequency at a time. And now, lying in bed next to him, watching the way his lashes rest against his cheeks as he sleeps, peaceful, unaware, you realize just how far from the beginning you are. And how far you’ve come.

You think about how it started. The tension. The miscommunication. The friction of two people trying not to see each other too clearly. You think about the late nights, the studio lights buzzing overhead, the silence between you and him, how it used to feel heavy, and now it just feels safe. You think about how many times you almost said too much. How many times you stopped yourself. How many times he didn’t. And then, how he did.

You think about the way he whispered the word girlfriend like it was a natural conclusion, not a surprise. Like the truth had already existed between you, and he was just giving it a name. Because by then, it didn’t scare you anymore. Because by then, you’d stopped questioning what it meant, or how fast it happened, or whether it was supposed to look a certain way.

Because by then, it just felt right.

He shifts beside you, barely awake, and instinctively reaches for your hand. His fingers find yours without hesitation, even in sleep. You smile into the darkness. Because it’s not about the label. It never was. It’s about the feeling. The choosing. The quiet knowing.

You think about how, for so long, you felt out of tune. Like no matter how hard you worked, something was always off. Too loud in the wrong places. Too soft where you needed strength. Like you were always trying to blend into a harmony that never made space for you.

But now, with him, there’s no effort. No strain. Just this quiet, steady rhythm—imperfect, unpolished, but undeniably yours.

author's note: hi 🫶 i finally finished this fic. honestly, thought it was gonna live in the “part 2 and never more” graveyard forever lmao. but here we are. if you’ve been reading since the beginning, thank you!! really. i know this one took its time, had its messy timeline and all, but if you made it to the end, just know i love you a little extra now.

thank you to everyone who read, liked, commented, messaged me about part 1 and part 2. you made me want to come back to this story and give it the ending it deserved 🥹 i also made a playlist with the songs i mentioned in the fic + a bunch of others that just feel like this story, check it out here <3

i hope the ending made your heart feel warm. or at the very least made you want to kiss a problematic but kind-hearted music producer called choi beomgyu.

until the next story 💿

taglist: @czennieszn @iyoonjh @shycreationdreamland @beomsdoll @whatblop @cbgtopia @enhaloveeee @hyunj00 @jnysaln @woncheecks @soobinslvr13 @kejingken @v1shwa-xo @yeovnjin @c1eod1n3 @etherealid7 @naeyerys @stwq2349 @gaonashi @usuallyunlikelyfox @jisungooner @bluecaet@i-am-not-dal @human-misery @jungkooks-right-toe @shihoinyoruichifan-blog @taeandpuppies @90steele @femaleetitan @c-ssiop0eia @beomgyusluver @gumjun @starbear15

[juliettejwnewinesa]

Hii could u write sieun x fem!reader angst where she's jealous cause of yeong Yi ? <33

What She Was

Pairing: Park Si-eun x Fem!Reader Genre: Angst, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort (light dw im not that mean ❤️), Unspoken Love Word count: ~500

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N doesn’t hate Yeong-yi.

She really doesn’t.

She’s smart, kind, pretty in that effortless way that makes people fold around her like paper. She’s everything a person should be.

Which is exactly the problem.

Yeong-yi laughs at something Si-eun says something quiet, something soft and Y/N watches the way he looks at her. The slight curve of his mouth, the twitch of a dimple he usually keeps guarded. He doesn’t smile much, but when he does, it's real. He gives it to Yeong-yi without hesitation.

Not to her.

Y/N looks away, teeth clenched so tight her jaw aches. She forces herself to smile when Si-eun glances over, waves him off when he asks if she’s okay.

“I’m fine.”

A lie.

It’s not even that Yeong-yi likes him. It’s not clear. She’s always around, but in that natural, friendly way girls like her can afford to be without consequences. She doesn’t have to want him for Y/N to be jealous. It’s the fact that Si-eun lets her close.

Y/N had to fight tooth and nail for Si-eun’s trust. Had to crawl through his walls, slowly, carefully, so he wouldn’t shut her out again. She learned to read his silences like scripture, earned his sighs and his soft glances like they were medals.

And Yeong-yi just… shows up. And he smiles.

It’s not fair.

—

“Why’re you being weird?”

Si-eun finds her in the stairwell after school, where she thinks no one will bother her. He always finds her, though. Quiet footsteps, expression unreadable.

Y/N shrugs, not looking at him. “I’m not.”

“You’re lying.”

He says it simply. Not accusing. Just stating a fact.

That makes it worse.

She presses her lips together, blinking hard at the graffiti scratched into the stairwell wall. She doesn’t want to cry over this. It’s stupid. She knows it’s stupid.

“Why do you like her so much?”

The words fall out. Ugly. Bare.

Si-eun stills. “What?”

“Yeong-yi,” she bites out. “You always sit next to her. You talk to her more than me lately. You smile at her. A lot.”

He’s silent for a long time.

And that silence is worse than any answer.

“…I didn’t know it bothered you,” he says eventually, voice low.

Y/N laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You didn’t notice anything, did you? I’m always right there, and you never” She cuts herself off, shaking her head.

“You only ever see me when I’m quiet. When I shut up. But when she’s loud and laughing, you look at her.”

Her voice cracks. That’s when she knows she’s lost.

Si-eun shifts on his feet. “I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

“Yeah, well. You did.” She wipes her face with the back of her hand. “And maybe it’s not your fault. She’s everything I’m not. She’s bright and easy to like. You don’t have to figure her out.”

Silence again.

And then

“I didn’t smile because of her.”

Y/N’s breath catches.

Si-eun’s eyes are on her now sharp and careful, like he’s peeling her apart, piece by piece. He steps closer, and she can feel his presence like static, like heat.

“I smiled because… she reminded me of you. How you used to look at me. When you weren’t angry.”

She turns to him, eyes wide. “Si-eun...”

“I didn’t realize I missed it until it was gone.”

And just like that, the jealousy melts into something worse: guilt.

He looks down, like it’s hard to say the next part. “You mean more to me than anyone. But I’m not good at showing it. You know that.”

She nods, tears threatening again.

He exhales slowly. “I don’t care about Yeong-yi like that. I never did.”

And when Y/N looks at him, really looks at him, she sees it. That fragile truth sitting behind his tired eyes. His feelings have always been buried under all his defenses.

He never gave her a reason to doubt him. But she doubted anyway.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“No. I am.”

Then, finally, he closes the distance, gently brushing her hair out of her face. It’s not a kiss. Not a promise.

But it’s something.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

"I fucking love you, okay?! I don't want to, but I do." Javier Peña

Angry Confessions ❤️‍😠

bio : this story is part of the Angry Confessions series (you can still be a part of it)

requested by : @lover-of-books-and-tea thank you!

warnings: angst, fuck buddies, jealousy, alcohol, one girl, fight, tears

He wasn't husband material, barely boyfriend material. But as a sex buddy - Javier Peña was perfect. However, things didn't go your way and fate decided to laugh at you.

The first time you felt this strange feeling was when he complimented the nails of the new girl who started working a few desks away. Nothing special, you gritted your teeth and simply decided to ignore it.

The second time he didn't show up at your place, even though he promised. You drank a bottle of wine by yourself, honestly hating yourself for how disappointed you were and how much you wanted Javier to show up.

It was just sex, nothing more. He didn't promise you anything and you never expected it. However, being in Colombia, working and being alone made people stick to each other, and you came across Peña. Did he take advantage of that? Maybe. But you were also an adult and you decided on such an arrangement.

Quick sex, when adrenaline was pumping through your veins and you had to stop thinking, or when the day was really hard. A sweet and lazy morning in bed, when he woke up next to you. Sometimes in the car, or in some closed office.

"You're just perfect, hermosa..." he whispered, pounding into you with all his might, and you tightened your fingers around his broad shoulders.

And there you were. In one of the bars, with a drink in your hand and your gaze fixed on the girl on the other side. Peña was standing right next to her, wrapping her long locks of hair around his finger and smiling like he did many times in your direction. God! You hated him so much.

He must have sensed you, because he looked your way. He kissed the girl's hand, then walked over to you with lazy steps.

“Well, hello hermosa.” he greeted, leaning against the bar next to you. “I didn’t expect you here.”

“I noticed you already had company. I didn’t want to intrude.” You replied, taking a sip of your drink.

“You could always intrude.” His dark eyes slowly raked over your body. Shivers ran down your spine at the sight, it was sickening. “Maybe I should keep you company, huh? Or maybe you’d prefer I get a bottle and we could…”

“No.”

Your response was a shot, and Peña stopped mid-sentence. The smile disappeared from his face. He glanced around the bar.

“You didn’t come with anyone, did you?” he asked, leaning slightly toward you.

“Would you care? I think you were busy with someone.”

Javier glanced at the girl who was still standing where he left her, but his gaze quickly returned to you. “You’re the brightest diamond here, hermosa.”

You rolled your eyes. The alcohol only made your frustration, which had been building up in you for a dozen or so days, grow to enormous proportions. At that moment, you hated everything about him, from his raven hair to the tips of his shoes. Javier Peña was the sin you committed most often and for your own good, you should have stopped.

You didn’t answer. You grabbed your bag and quickly headed for the exit. But you should have known that Peña didn’t give up that easily. He was like a wolf hunting a lamb, and just outside the door you felt, in addition to the fresh air, his hand tighten on your shoulder.

“What’s that supposed to mean, hermosa?” he whispered in your ear. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

You looked at him defiantly. “I don’t have anyone I could be jealous of.” you replied.

“I think otherwise.” he smiled slyly. “You’re always so mad when you see me with someone else, and then we have amazing sex. That’s where this is going, right? You need me. Does she need me too?”

You wanted to punch him in the face. But at the same time, you felt like his words were hitting exactly where they were supposed to. You were dependent on him, he knew that perfectly well.

“You know, baby, you’re my favorite. I love teasing you, because then you turn into such a furious kitten.” His hand ran down your back, a shiver running through it. “I can feel it. You smell of desire... I can smell her all the way here.”

But then he saw it, the change in your eyes that made his heart stop for a moment. Tears were glistening, and you were looking at him in a way that made Javier feel like a fool.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I let you into my bed, Peña.” you hissed quietly. “I was so stupid…”

“What are you talking about?” he wondered. “We both wanted this, right? I didn’t force you to do anything.”

“I was just... stupid and naive.” you mumbled. You pulled away and Javier let go of you, watching you closely.

He didn't understand much. You were one of the closest people to him in the office. Yes, you had slept together. No, you hadn't talked about a relationship or feelings, but he thought that wasn't really what you expected. You knew what he was like. The office gossip was loud enough to get through to you, and you weren't stupid. Besides... You were out of his league. He was already lucky to have gotten to this point with you.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked a little louder, since you were already a few steps away from him, clearly heading home.

You stopped and turned to him. "Excuse me?"

"You've been walking around like crazy for the past few days. And when I get close, you're ready to sting me." He put his hands on his hips, watching you carefully. “What got into you, hermosa? I thought we were-”

“Fuck, I love you, okay?! I don’t want to, but I do.” You blurted out, blushing. “And I hate myself for how I feel when I look at you and those… those girls… Because I know I’m one of them.”

Javier’s eyes widened in understanding. He quickly rubbed his hand over his mouth, feeling his heart speed up. “This is a really bad idea, hermosa…” he finally said, “You know that-”

“I know.” You cut him off, “That’s why I’m mad.”

Javier looked around and slowly walked over to you. You felt so bad you just wanted to disappear. But when he spoke, God, you wanted to die.

“I’m not the guy who’s going to give you what you deserve, hermosa.” he said, “I’m sorry, but… You deserve better.”

You quickly wiped away a tear that rolled down your cheek. Your ears were ringing. "I know that perfectly well, Peña." You snorted. "That's why I'm not even asking you for anything. Just... foranget I said all that."

He knew he wouldn't forget, but he nodded. A moment later, he was watching your silhouette as you disappeared into the crowd of people, and he was still standing like an idiot where you left him.

This wasn't supposed to happen like this. He had screwed up.

[philosophical-goon]

Thinking about reader! Who can’t ride on it and have her clit touched at the same time. Doesn’t work. Her brain can’t comprehend it in tune, it’s like trying to rub your stomach and pat your head at the same time like one of those fourth graders in gym class who was just shown a new trick.

So when König gets agitated with her over something stupid, readers acting like a brat, blah blah blah, of course he makes her bounce on it.

If she wants to act like a brat, she can do all of the work and heavy lifting he usually does. See how she likes it.

She is his little pillow princess, don’t think otherwise, but there are times she pushes her limits, where she willfully acts like a little shit just to get put back in place. She likes it—how he can easily manhandle her, how all the strength it takes to put her back in her place, he possesses it in his pinky finger alone.

And when he finds out about this little spaz of yours..?

Oh, the punishment just got 10x worse.

It was already a struggle to work yourself down on the thicket of him, hands braced on his broad shoulders in a tight grip, digits trembling like your thighs as you slowly rocked your hips to work yourself down. You were whining and pouting, your words sweet and sugary as you begged, trying to appease him into fucking up into you, to flip you over and take it away— anything to help.

Of course, he just snorted at your misfortune, meaty paw-like hands grasping at your hips, a slight ‘tsk’ coming from him as he slowly pushed you further down his cock, a choked gasp lodging itself in the back of your throat, hips squirming in his kneading grasp.

“No help. Now, move- take your punishment well.” He spoke with a condescending sort of tone, the one that made you scowl and huff in irritation.

You weren’t given long before he jumpstarted your movements with a hefty smack on your ass, body lurching forward as your hips jerked, tight cunt clenching around him instinctively in a way that made him groan low in his throat.

Again, you could scowl and pout and whine all you wanted, but in reality, was it really doing anything, maus?

So, you put on your big girl boots and slowly started to move despite being the pillow princess you were, dragging your cunt up and down his length with a shudder. You were trying to adjust to having him so deep, but he wasn’t having none of that, not with how you had been acting today.

Spitting demands, talking back, arguing with him about every single little thing- and then you had the audacity to palm him through his pants mid argument?

Another sharp slap rang out, a yelp leaving your lips as the stinging sensation rippled through your left ass cheek, hushed words of “faster” ringing out near your ear, demanding encouraging your hips to move at the pace he wanted.

He wanted you to fuck yourself on him like he would. Moving at that desperate pace, hips smashing down on his, grinding as deep as he could get, tip crushing against your cervix. He would always be too big to take to the hilt, it was just the reality of his size.

“Don’t stop moving,” he gritted out, “not until I tell you.”

It would take you a good 25-30 minutes of you straight bouncing for him to even consider helping you out, much less giving you pity. He was getting a little free show, not to mention the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around him so snuggly it was dizzying. The whines, the begging, pawing at him, crying for just even a little kiss.

There would be times you stopped because you were tired, even if your hips just stuttered, and he would smack your ass raw until you started back up. You quickly learned to keep moving, trying your hardest to appease him, to get what you so desperately wanted.

And finally, finally after enough begging and apologizing, through tears and sweat, he let you have a little taste of his thumb on your clit.

It was just barely, barely even there, but the feeling alone on your sore, over sensitive clit made your hips stutter, a garbled whimper leaving you with the pathetic nature of a mewling cat.

You couldn’t keep up, your rhythm was immediately thrown off—and it only worsened with the more pressure he put. Eventually, it was too overwhelming to the point your legs just couldn’t continue, hips stuttering to a stop as noises flooded out of you, legs shaking like leaves on each side of his wide hips.

A cruel smile spread across his features before you had time to notice it, too engrossed in the feeling of his calloused fingers rubbing tight circles in a way that had you holding onto him for dear life, hips unable to function aside from a few twitchy, pitiful jerks.

It felt like a goat locking up, everything was harder to control, to move. As much as you tried to move your hips, it was like trying to fight against an invisible force field. It was too overstimulating, your brain just couldn’t handle both at the same time without overheating :(

König’s waiting hand lashed out once again, palm smacking your ass with enough force that should snap you back into gear, but you don’t start moving, only a misplaced moan falling out as your cunt clenched around him tightly. You were trying, you really were, but you just couldn’t move properly with the way he was smothering your poor little cunny.

Your name rang out like a sharp warning despite his growing amusement, König’s tone a low reminder to keep moving as his thumb rubbed tighter movements on your clit, hips twitching with a groan from the feeling of your velvety walls squeezing around his pulsing length.

He knew the effect it was having on you, but he wanted to push you, to prey on that sweet weakness, exploiting your soft body and subjecting you to his mean, teasing touch just because he felt like it. He couldn’t help it, it was truly intoxicating for a man like him…

If you thought it was bad before, this was a whole nother level.

Smack after smack on your poor burning ass, sparks of pain shooting after each hit—he gave a mocking hum, feigning pity as he rubbed the sore skin momentarily, gripping the flesh in his calloused fingers before delivering another harsh slap.

“What’s wrong?” He cooed, thumb swirling, fingers chasing your pelvis as you tried to wriggle away with a cry.

You didn’t get far before his beefy arms wrapped tight around your back, pulling you flush against him once more, pulling you deeper, closer, cramming you as tight against him as he could get. He kept your poor cunny speared on him tight, not giving you any room to escape.

“Can’t do it? Hm? Can’t keep bouncing on my cock?” He picked through groans, his thumb spamming against your clit as he gripped onto your hip to keep you in place.

All that came out of you were gasping, high pitched noises, whimpering and hiccuping as your chest stuttered, body squirming against him instinctively to escape the sensation. It was a cute attempt to get away, really.

Your head shook on its own, a sob escaping through a sharp breath, hips squirming vigorously—but he just wouldn’t stop. He was too deep, too big, too close and too fucking consistent that it threw you over the edge quicker than you could realize, spasming all over his cock.

And of course, you’ll need to be punished for that too. All in good time.

—

Sorry this was a little self indulgent considering I was thinking of my own personal little experience :)) and I got lazy like halfway thru so hope it’s not trash idk.

[cookiexreader]

I realized you can request NSFW, but it makes me feel sad. Do beasts have a kind of heat? But I want it to be romantic. Well, I mean, they only have their heat when they find their true soulmate. Maybe it was before the corruption and after? The reader could be a cookie that has a peculiar scent for their partners. Maybe the beasts would like to drown in it. Also, could you please make marks on each cookie? Like mystic flour leaves its mark on the reader after a night of love. True, it could be feminine for shadow milk, burning spice, silent salt, and masculine for eternal sugar and mystic flour. I had a question, can I request Omegaverse?

I once saw a fanfic about shadow milk in heat, lol. However I do have some ideas.

Shadow Milk

At first he didn’t want to pressure you pre corruption. Afterwards, he would want your attention more. Yes he would place marks on you where others can visibly see. Pre corruption he’d be embarrassed but proud, but now he likes the idea of you being all his.

Going to separate since that’s easier.

Pre Corruption:

First meeting you, he knew something was off, yes he knew about the whole soulmate stuff but didn’t think it would be true. He’d try to hold off on keeping you to himself, back then he couldn’t be selfish. If he was then what would the witch of light think? He was made to share his knowledge, however he was still curious on what love was like. When he did allow himself to be around you, he was instantly attracted. You two grew close, closer, closer than close. His first time with you was unexpected, he really wanted it to be more romantic, however you had other plans.

Bottom boy? Yes.

Current:

He wants you around him at all times, he may have changed but the bond is still strong, he still desires you, that’s a truth that he’ll never lie about. If he’s the main character, you’re the main love interest. Come on, when there’s a show, he’ll give one. Candy apple would be jealous of the relationship but black sapphire will keep her at bay as ordered by him. Marking you wouldn’t be a hesitant act, instead, he’ll be more upfront about it. He’ll definitely do it infront of his minions, plus truthles recluse if you want him there haha! The time he’d let you close again, he’s more of a switch, he’s a puppeteer after all, he pulls the strings. He’ll be more bold, but wouldn’t push you to do it infront of others, if anything he’d shoo them away or drag you somewhere only he can see all of you. A private show he’ll always enjoy.

Being the main character has its perks 😉

Burning Spice

Pre Corruption:

It’s a change he accepts, a Harold of change can’t be one without something new am I right? Yes he’s a big boy! And cookies are rather fragile, he’d worry that you’d crumble in his arms if he isn’t careful. The first time he did mark you, he was careful. Definitely didn’t go rough, come on… he isn’t the beast of destruction yet. But damn if he didn’t like what he saw, he did resist the urge to devour this desire for you whole lol.

Current:

Rough asf, and definitely doesn’t hold back. When he marks you again, it’s definitely a whole bite. He didn’t eat you lol. Dude isn’t holding back, why should he? It’s been a thousand years, he’d might as well go for it. Just be careful when you do want to go all in… heh. Public sex? Yes. Man 👏 has 👏 no 👏 shame. He’ll do it infront of nutmeg if he feels like it. The title of beasts fits now. But beast in the sheets is more like it hehe.

Silent salt

I don’t know…. I need to know the personality first. I can’t just assume. Plsssssssss devsis!!! RELEASE OUR SILENT SALT!!!!

Eternal Sugar

Happiest she’s even been, she’s able to feel the happiness that comes with loving another, her marking you would be immediate! She’s not going to care if anyone sees, she’s happy with you.

Pre Corruption:

She loves you so much, you’d have to assist her with helping her spread happiness to others. If someone wants to get close to you romantically, she’s quicker to swipe you up in the air with her. She wants to make you happy, she wants to be the reason for your happiness. (Obviously) first time together? Oooooh my goodness you ain’t ready. I would think she would devour that moment like a star jelly to level up. Taking any chance to learn more about what you’re into to make it more exciting. Marking you? Hell yes! Ask her, she’s on it right away! Don’t want it to be visible? She’s understanding but she’s disappointed, she loves seeing it. You want it to be visible? Happiest she’s ever been! Brags about it even if brought up.

Current:

She’d be so happy to be with you again. She’ll keep you close this time, sex? She’s literally a beast! She may be a beast of sloth, but damn if a girl can’t dream lol. She’d mark you up everywhere. Let’s just say all those times learning about what you’re into, worth it! You won’t be unsatisfied, and she sure as hell satisfied as well. She’s more upfront with you two being a couple, cue costumes voice lines! Hahaha!

Mystic Flour

Pre corruption:

I imagine her being more of a people please, due to wish granting. Being with you is refreshing, but very awkward, she thinks maybe you want something from her, so when you do confess to her it was a surprise for her. Yes she had a clear attraction to you, even desires… it’s hard to believe you actually want her instead of someone else. You’d kinda be the one to tell her or try to teach her to be more selfish. So when the first came, she wanted to try for another. First intimate moment would be something she curious about. She heard of such moments, but wouldn’t exactly have the time to learn about it, so you’d have to lead. First mark, she would be more likely to do, since you are someone she wants to keep, that mark is definitely gonna be visible, no arguments. No questions.

Current:

Oh my god, she’s hungry. Yes she has a more neutral expression, but she definitely wants you. Hell yes she’s going to mark you like an animal would behind the scenes. Definitely going to go for you after thousands of years in the tree. She’s not holding back, I’m telling you she won’t! Beast of Apathy is hungry asf, come on, if she had any regrets, it would probably be not expressing how much she wanted you during intimate moments. lol.

Done and I’m tired lol. Sorry if some of this doesn’t sound like the characters, I just got back from work.

[buckys-estrella]

Someone to Watch Over Me

robert “bob” reynolds x reader

song inspo: someone to watch over me by ella fitzgerald

masterlist

word count: 1.5k

summary: you unexpectedly find an old friend :)

warnings: angst perhaps??? Friends reunited!!! Lots and lots of history between these two. tw brief mention of domestic violence, substance abuse, depression/mental health struggles (all pretty canon tbh) – also I should preface that I based bob off of a friend that was in a similar situation so in a sense this is me reliving and hashing out some rough years (but tbh it was kinda therapeutic to write), too many italics bc that’s just me! I tried to add some funny moments to help with the tension but um we’ll see how that’s received

---

Bob was your friend.

But you hate using the word “was” because even though it’s been about a decade since you’d seen him, you still think of him as your friend.

Sweet Bob who shared his ear buds with you so you could sit side by side and listen to music together.

Funny Bob who at times had such a flat and dry sense of humor that he made you laugh even when he wasn’t trying.

Protective Bob who stood up for you and started walking with you to and from school when a girl on the bus decided she’d call you nasty names every day.

You met in 6th grade. Sharing a homeroom class, the same school bus, and even living across the street from each other.

You were new to the neighborhood and Bob took you in. He became a close friend in such a short amount of time. But it didn’t take long for you to notice some signs.

The way he never wanted to go back home. His tired eyes that held so much sadness. The bruises and cuts he’d cover up with a hoodie even when the sun was beaming outside. The way he never wanted to talk about his dad.

It didn’t take long before you swapped roles. Now you were taking him under your wing, and you didn’t complain, not one bit, because the truth is you were falling for him. As young as you both were, you wanted to love him, show him real love exists.

Every morning, he would walk over to your house. It became routine. Your mother would ask if there's anything special you or Bob wanted to eat, and she'd cook breakfast for the two of you before you headed off for school.

Every morning you'd walk the same path together side by side and talk about anything and everything the whole way. And Bob, ever the gentleman, would subtly ensure that he was walking on the street side. He'd make casual comments, saying, "well, I'd rather someone snatch me up instead of you, y'know, give you time to run and get help." - You never liked that idea, someone stealing Bob away from you, but time can be cruel like that.

Middle school, and soon, high school rolled around. You never, ever had any classes together. It's like you lived in two separate worlds. But the final bell would ring, you'd shoot him a text to meet you at the fire station down the street and like clockwork, every day you'd walk home together, sometimes stopping at the local park or 7-Eleven to unwind before going back.

But changes came. You and Bob were glued at the hip in the beginning, some would even say you were in love. But he was drifting, retreating, isolating. It took more and more effort to pull him out of this void he was in.

There were signs. He started to mellow out, slow down, some days you wondered if he was even there. 

It was pretty soon after you found some morphine in his bag that was prescribed to his mother.

Oh Bob.

You wanted to be the one to take away his pain. You wanted to be someone who he could rely on. But he kept changing, and not for the better…

His behavior was erratic at times; you couldn’t make any sense of him. He seemed like a whole new person, one you didn’t know. He’d make these claims, these statements, talking about himself as if he was the next best big thing. It scared you at times. Don’t get it twisted, you were all about him getting better but this…this was not it, this was not your Bob.

That year, you moved away. An hour’s drive from all those you knew and loved. You tried to stay in touch with them all but time, time can be cruel.

The only one you truly cared to hear about was Bob.

Your Bob.

But everything you heard made your heart break a little more.

You heard he dropped out of high school.

You saw a video that went locally viral of him in a chicken costume absolutely decking people with a sign.

You heard he made his way in and out of the system on petty charges.

Last you heard of Bob, he had made his over to Malaysia. A way to start fresh. Thousands of miles away from you. You thought you’d never see him again, you thought he was gone, maybe even dead.

Until one day.

You had been walking around the city on your day off when chaos ensued (as it normally does, why do you even still live in NYC???). The last thing you remember seeing was a shadow of black before you were brought into the nightmare. Over and over again it was like your greatest worst hits on repeat.

But you saw him.

In the reflection of your mind, not just a memory, you saw him.

You tried to find him, call to him, chase after him! But as you stepped through the window, bracing yourself for the next torture your mind had lined up, you saw the shadows start to dissipate and fade away. Instead of the carpet of your living room, your feet were steady on the concrete sidewalk of the city.

As your gaze trailed up, you were met by those eyes. Those blue eyes you never thought you’d see again. In a sea of leather suits and weapons??? Stood Bob. Your Bob. In that blue oversized sweater that he always wore for comfort and those corduroy pants that you had wanted to steal borrow.

You were stuck in a trance. Watching him as he took you in. His eyes widening, his mouth slightly falling agape. You saw the blonde beside him turn to find whatever caught his attention. Eyeing between the two of you, her brow furrowed in confusion.

You couldn’t help it anymore; you couldn’t stand and watch him anymore.

You ran.

You barely noticed the confused shouts, the hands that reached for weapons, the looks of bystanders as you ran and basically tackled Bob to the ground.

“BOB! Oh, my goodness you’re here! I thought you were gone, I thought I’d never see you again- and what was this that I heard of you being in Malaysia? When’d you come back, why didn’t I hear anything? Oh, it doesn’t matter, you’re here!” You took a moment to catch your breath as you looked down at Bob and those precious blue eyes and that dazed smile that you always loved.

“Okay, now who is she?” You looked up, noticing dime store Captain America? Huh. You thought he practically fell off the face of the planet after his, to put it lightly, shield scandal.

You felt Bob sitting up from under you, arm still wrapped around your waist, not wanting to let go of one of the only people who’s ever loved him.

“This is my best friend, Walter-”

“Walker,” the man corrected, clearly annoyed.

“That’s what I said, right?” Bob asked with a pout, but you knew him better, noticing the twinkle in his eye and he teased him

Then his eyes met yours and his expression shifted to one of quiet sincerity, a delicate balance of hesitation and longing. “There's so much I need to tell you. So much I want you to know.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening gently around the soft fabric of his sweater. “We have time, Bob. We'll make the time.”

He nodded softly, his eyes trying to convey every emotion he was feeling. "I've missed you—every day. I never stopped."

"Me too," you whispered, resting your forehead against his, taking in the comforting warmth of his closeness.

“This is sweet. Bob found friend. Everyone alive. Great day for the mighty Thunderbolts!” You heard from the man in head-to-toe red leather, his beaming smile bringing you joy.

Yeah, a great day indeed.

---

A/N: PS!!! I haven’t written in like two years and I feel like this SUCKEDDDDD but amen at least im writing again :) (pls be nice)

ALSO! If in any way, anything comes across in the wrong way, pls pls pls let me know! I myself struggle with mental health (depression/PTSD) but when it comes to bipolar and substance abuse, my only experience is with patients I’ve encountered so if there is any advice to be offered in how I write about it, please let me know!

tagging some mutuals bc it's been a while🥲 @withahappyrefrain @buckyytorres @buckysmischief @buckyhoney @hangmanapologist @rhettabbotts @lewmagoo @openforjean

@joaquinwhorres @bubblebuckys @ofstarsandvibranium @rae-gar-targaryen @aescapisms @cottagecori @dakaiab6 @floydsglasses @golden-barnes @siempre-bucky

[stevieschrodinger]

Due to AO3 being maintained, I'm posting the first little bit of, what could be, the silliest thing I've ever written. The working title is 'Beauty and the Steve'.

Eddie does his best to dodge the morning traffic.

That crazy lady’s chickens are loose again, and it’s creating a minor amount of havoc. The baker always goes out of his way to say good morning to Eddie, and, when him and uncle Wayne had first moved to the little village of Hawkins, Eddie was sure he was just being polite.

Now Eddie thinks he may be a bit of an old lech. It’s no secret Eddie is the only male Omega in the village, but at least he isn’t completely alone. There’s three female Omega too; identical triplets though, which is just fucking weird in Eddie’s book. He’s sure that’s got to be somebody’s kink, right?

“Eddie, where are you off to in such a hurry?” The baker calls out of the window, and Eddie can clearly see his irritated mate behind him. She looks like she’s gearing up to skewer the guy with a baguette.

“Oh, just the bookshop!” And Eddie waves, trying to indicate politely that he’s done with this, slipping away in a confusion of chickens.

Eddie turns the corner, only to find his way blocked by a hay wagon, “good morning!”

“Errr…” Eddie, not for the first time, internally curses small villages, “morning, are you, uhm, moving?”

“Just getting ready to unload, won’t be long!” The man calls down cheerfully. Eddie eyes the bales, contemplates going back the way he has come, but he spies the bakers wife hitting the baker with a loaf, surrounded by chickens who appear to be excited by the prospect of violently created breadcrumbs.

Eddie climbs over the wagon.

Eddie makes it to the door of the bookshop, pulling hay out of his curls, cursing villages, narrow cobbled streets, the people who inhabit them, and the countryside in general.

“Ah! Eddie!” Owens calls out. He’s the old dude who owns the bookshop, the only shred of civilization that exists for at least, Eddie suspects, five days ride in any direction.

“Good morning! I've come to return the book I borrowed.”

Owens takes the book, “finished already?” he returns it easily to it’s place on the shelves.

“Oh, I couldn't put it down!” Eddie replies keenly, and he means it. He literally did not put it down because there's absolutely nothing else to do now that he's stuck living in the middle of nowhere. “Have you got anything new?”

Owens laughs good naturedly, “not since yesterday Eddie.”

“That’s alright,” Eddie assures him, because Eddie already knows exactly which book he wants to read again, and he knows exactly where it is, he takes a few steps up the ladder to retrieve it, “I’ll borrow...this one.”

“That one? But you've read it twice!”

“Well it's my favorite!” Eddie locks his boots either side of the ladder, sliding down the ladder, hopping off the last step, “far off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, and an Alpha prince in disguise!”

“Well, if you like it all that much, it's yours!” Owen’s tells him kindly.

“But sir!” Eddie starts to protest. He knows people are soft on him sometimes because of his designation. And the whole being an orphan thing, which, thanks to village gossip, spread like wildfire when he and uncle Wayne moved here, just the two of them. Eddie hates charity...but he really does love this book.

“I insist!”

“Well thank you...Thank you very much!” And Eddie is being sent out of the bookshop and into the sunshine. He’s pretty certain Owens doesn’t know how book shops are even supposed to work, considering he keeps letting Eddie borrow them – and now he’s even giving them away. Regardless, Eddie really shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.