#but i still think it came out pretty good

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ mdni, Reader POV.

His name is Simon.  

He’s still stuck in your mind as Captain Riley, like it’s dug in there, claws unwilling to let go, and he says you don’t have to call him Simon if you don’t want to. Which is comforting, in its own strange way. 

Comforting just like his presence, the one that’s been at the bakery almost every day. You’ve been trying to keep to yourself, agonizing over the moment when it all comes crashing down, when he figures out how weird you are, but it’s not that easy.

He doesn’t let you hide. 

“What do you do when you’re not at work?” You resist the urge to wring your hands together, keeping your focus on the sidewalk, concentrating on the cracks, the leaves. 

You’re on a walk. With him. He asked you earlier when he came by as you were closing up, before you moved on to the rest of your work. 

“Take a break. Walk with me.” 

You couldn’t say no, though it took longer than it should have to get your “yes” out. 

He didn’t rush you. He never does. 

“Um,” You’re not much of a doer. You bake, you go home, you read, you watch the occasional tv show or movie, you work on recipes. You learned to embroider last year, and sometimes you add little flowers or such here and there to your work aprons but there’s nothing outside those things, no extracurriculars or exercise, no circle of friends to get a drink with on the weekends. Sometimes you hang out with Mara, who works the front at the bakery, but it’s rare. You’re not good with friendships usually. You keep to yourself, and that’s fine. Everything is easier that way. 

You guess Captain Riley could be considered a hobby. All the minutes you’ve spent holding your breath and watching the front door, waiting for him to walk through and make his way to the counter, all the times you’ve caught yourself staring at his hands, thick wrists and palms the size of dinner plates. He could probably crush a skull between them, crush you. It’s unhealthy, the way you think of him. The way you daydream about a man who’s probably old enough to be your father. The way you close your eyes in the middle of the day when it’s busy and you’re overwhelmed and the sound of the dishwasher is grating on you, just to picture his face, hear him calling you baby, feel his-

He says your name. Oh right. 

You shrug, trying to feign indifference, trying to brush it off. “I’m usually at home. Work takes it out of me.” That’s true. Work can be exhausting. Bending, scraping, kneading, lifting giant mixing bowls, pulling dough until you’re tired. Wrists, elbows, neck, all of them, ache. Price you pay for passion, you suppose. “I’m pretty boring.” 

“No you’re not. Just a bit nervous, yeah?” Your stomach twists. 

“I like to stick to the things I know, I guess.” 

“Less scary?” The truth is full of shame and you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to raise a shield that doesn’t exist. A smoke and mirror act that wouldn’t fool anyone. 

“Yeah, less scary.” He’s silent for a beat, and then turns to face you on the sidewalk, a finger under your chin, tipping your head back until your eyes are locked on his. 

“It’s okay, y’know?” Embarrassment floods, fire burning in your cheeks, and he tsks, wiping one of the tears trying to trickle down your skin. “None o’ that.” You smile, but it’s hollow. 

“Sorry.” 

“None of that either,” he bites out, and your spine straightens like a string has been pulled from your tailbone up through your neck. “There’s nothin’ wrong with it.” With what? With you? He’s joking. You almost snort, but the seriousness in his gaze stops you short. Steals your breath. 

You’ve made it around the block already, standing in the parking lot of the bakery, twilight purple and orange shining in the reflection of the big front window. Disappointment settles in your stomach like lead. He’s going to leave now, go back to wherever it is he goes, and you’ll be alone, elbows deep in cream and sugar, trying not to think about him for the hundredth, thousandth time. 

Might as well rip the band-aid off. “Well, um. Thanks f-for, uh…” if you say thanks for the walk, will you sound dumb? Does that make it sound like you’re a dog or something he took for a stroll? “The walk.” Yep. Dumb. 

“Goin’ back to work?” 

“Mhm. I’ve got this catering order for early pick up tomorrow.” 

“What’re you making?” 

“Meringue. Lemon. Pies.” You cringe, but he places a hand on your shoulder. It’s warm, warm like a blanket, a soft fuzzy thing you can curl up with in front of a fire. “Meringue is really the thing about the pies. The rest of it doesn’t really matter, that’s why I- ah… why I put it first.” The two of you drift towards the back door, more so you in his wake, and when he closes it behind the two of you, it’s natural, you don’t even question it. Him. 

“It’s science.” You place the bowl in front of where he’s sitting on a stool, and try not to look at the bulk of his thighs. He’s in some sort of uniform, but it’s more casual, less stiff. The fabric breathes and stretches across his body, his chest, his middle… the heaviness of his legs. The room is suddenly very hot, and you try to shake the distraction off. “All of baking is a science, actually. Cooking, you can salvage anything. Cooking is easy. Baking? Baking is chemistry.” You pull the cradle of eggs over, and roll one in your hand before cracking it, separating yolk from white. “Meringue is a perfect example. It only has four ingredients. How hard can it be?” You feel a little thrill roll through you, the kind of excitement you get when you’re just about to start turning a handful of ingredients into something, and the pressure builds up in your chest, muscles in your arms and neck going tight as you fight against an overzealous outburst. You tense so hard you shake for a second before you get a hold of yourself. “If the eggs aren’t the right temperature, if the bowl isn’t clean enough, if you add the sugar too fast, it all falls apart. The protein in the egg whites mix with the sugar and make the meringue stable, it's literally chemistry. That's the cool thing about it.” You look between him and the hand mixer, and everything dries up. You’re suddenly very aware you’ve been prattling on about how to make meringue like he cares, and you have to hold onto the edge of the butcher’s block to practically keep yourself up. The mortification is enormous and threatens to drown you in its viciousness, vile things playing on a loop inside your head as you grapple with what’s just happened. Stupid. 

He’s standing before you can blink. “What’s wrong?” 

“N-nothing, I- I just uh… I’m sorry.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. 

“For what?” You shake your head, but he doesn’t let it go, just comes around to the side and covers your hand with his. Warm again. Safe. “Tell me what’s wrong sweetheart.” The gentle coax in his voice turns stern, and you find yourself obeying before you can stop it. 

“Meringue, it’s so… w-why would you care about meringue?” 

“I don’t know anything about meringue,” he rubs two knuckles against the apple of your cheek, “you were teaching me.” 

“Oh.” 

“Y’know you go somewhere else when you talk about baking?” 

“What? I do?” He nods. 

“You’re free from the scary bits. You’re excited and… weightless. It’s precious,” he cups your face, touch slow and careful, “like you, precious little girl.” The air in the room has vanished, and your knees go weak, struggling to support you as your pulse races, butterflies swarming in the pit of your stomach. 

“C-captain Riley- I-” He steps back, your heart free falls to the floor. He’s studying you like there’s a riddle to be solved, analytical and hungry, something razor sharp and rolling with darkness lurking behind it all. It’s so intense, too intense, but fleeting, and vanishes within a second. A light’s been snuffed out, leaving you in the cold and clueless. 

“Will you teach me the rest?” 

“Um, yes?” It doesn’t sound like the human language. More like a mouse’s squeak, and you glance around, trying to get your bearings as he leans against the table with his arms crossed. 

It takes you a minute, or ten, to get back in the rhythm. You have to start over, which is fine, but you’re shivering a bit too much to handle the yolk separation, a different kind of anxiety rattling in your bones. It’s not until he palms the small of your back and tells you to take your time, that you settle and succeed. 

By the time it’s over, you’ve made ten pies for your order and one extra. 

“Do you want to try?” You hand him a fork. 

“Course.” You’re on the edge of your seat as he takes his first bite, watching his jaw move, his throat bobbing with each swallow. Then he takes another, and another, and another until half the pie is almost gone. You try to smother your giggle, but the effort is paltry, and he smiles at you in return. “Somethin’ funny?” Your teeth press into your bottom lip so hard it stings. 

“Nope, uh… do you like it?” 

“It’s delicious sweetheart. You’re really good at this.” Tingles of pride flush through you from fingers to toes, and you bounce on the balls of your feet a little bit. 

“I’ll send the rest home with you.” You slide the pie tin into a box and he shakes his head.

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to!” You blurt, and then bite your tongue, looking down at peaks of meringue. “I w-want to, it’s my-” you snap ‘love language’ back before it manages to escape, horrified at yourself. “I like it, feeding you, um, feeding people.” You’re sweating. You can feel it starting to bead along your spine, the back of your neck, and you wonder if you’ll get hot enough to melt into the floor and disappear. 

“If you’re sure,” he murmurs as he forks another piece of the pie free. “You didn’t have any though.” 

“Oh,” it’s your factory setting response at this point. Oh. Can’t you think of anything else? “Th-that’s okay, I don’t always eat my own… stuff.” 

“Why’s that?” You’ve turned fully towards him now, and he’s still so close, close enough to see the ribbons of caramel in his irises. 

“It’s not for me, usually. I mean, I eat of course, and taste test, but I don’t do it for me. I do it as a job and for other people.” 

“Hmm. That’s a shame,” the bite is still sitting there, waiting, and you’re just about to ask him if he’s going to eat it when he lifts it to your lips. “Open.” 

It’s not a request. It’s an order, a directive, and your thighs squeeze into one another, riptide of confusing want, desire, dragging you out to sea. 

Your lips part- 

and then Captain Riley is feeding you. It’s a small bite, tart-sweet on your tongue. Lemon and sugar crusted clouds linger as you swallow, but nothing matters except for the man in front of you, pulling a fork from your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours- 

“Good girl.” Heaven. Hell. Words disappear like you never learned a single vowel. Your body becomes a never ending live wire. You’re out of your element, you don’t even have an element, not truly. Your element is here, in kitchen of the bakery, alone with flour and sugar and piping bags. Your element isn’t… it’s not this. Not this man, this older man, this brutally handsome man who towers over you, this man with his perfectly imperfect nose and scar on his cheek, with big hands and a voice you could drown in. Not this man standing in front of you, telling you you’re a good girl, staring like he wants to consume you. “How’s that?” 

“U-uh, um. It’s… it’s good.” You don’t recognize your voice. It’s high pitched and trembling, the waver it in matching the shaking of your limbs, your entire body. 

“Do you want another?” Yes. No. You don’t know. 

“I…” you’re flailing, but he instead of pushing you, instead of trying to fit a circle into a square, he merely thumbs your cheek, drags the calloused pad down to ghost across your bottom lip.  

“It’s okay baby, take your time. Do you want another bite?” There’s a hummingbird in your chest, trilling a million miles a minute, and you nod automatically. 

“Please.” You whisper, and he obliges. You don’t care to have another bite of pie, but you do want more of this. So much more of something you’re not sure you can have, something you definitely don’t understand. Some sort of dream that doesn’t happen for people like you. 

Your phone vibrates. It lights up on the other side of the table and your stomach pitches, first out of panic, and then out of dread. 

Spell broken. Fairytale over. 

“That’s my bedtime. My bedtime reminder, I mean.” You just told him you have a bedtime like you’re five. Nice. “I’m usually in bed… by now. I get up really early on some days for prep and other stuff, and I’m a ten hours of sleep a night kind of girl, so, uh, I try to stay consistent with my routines and stuff, but I’m pretty bad at it. That’s why I have the alarm…” Stop talking. 

“I’m sorry I kept you.” 

“No!” You reach for him and then think better of it, fisting your hand at your side instead. “N-no, I’m glad you’re here. I just have this early pick up tomorrow, but it’s no big deal, I’ll-” 

“go home and go to bed. Do you have anything else you need to do?” Stern again, like he's serious about enforcing your bedtime, like he cares about you getting enough sleep. 

“Not really, I just leave the dishes in the sink for tomorrow.” He tucks the pie box into his arm and motions to the back door. 

“I’ll wait for you to lock up.” 

He gives you his number and makes you promise to text him when you get home, which you do, dutifully, laying in bed, curled up beneath your blankets, typing out a hazy message with one eye open. 

>Home. In bed. Thanks for hanging out. 

The text back comes only a few minutes later. 

>Goodnight sweetheart. 

>Goodnight Captain Riley. 

[issues4him]

riding blue collar!rafe while he mows the lawn!

cw: smut, 18+, riding, outdoor sex

IT WAS HOT AS HELL OUTSIDE—the kind of heat that made the air thick and heavy, where the sun was mercilessly bright, and the only sounds were the steady hum of the insects and the low rumble of the lawn mower.

rafe was perched on the ride-on lawn mower, his long legs spread wide, boots planted firmly on the metal footrests, his bare chest glistening with sweat beneath the relentless sun.

every muscle flexed and shifted as he gripped the steering wheel, maneuvering the massive mower across the yard, his tan skin slick with sweat, his baseball cap pulled low over his squinting blue eyes. he kept wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, his abs contracting with every motion, his jeans hanging low on his hips, his belt loose from where he had tugged it looser earlier for comfort.

you’d been watching him from the window, bottom lip caught between your teeth, pressing your thighs together as the familiar ache pooled low in your belly. the kids were at their grandparents. the house was completely empty. and right now, you had one thing on your mind—getting in that man’s pants.

with a smile, you slipped on a thin, yellow sundress, the fabric soft and weightless, falling just below the tops of your thighs. no bra. no panties. just bare skin and temptation.

then, with a cold glass of iced tea in hand, you stepped outside, walking toward him with a slow, deliberate sway of your hips.

he saw you immediately. you could tell by the way his grip on the wheel tightened just slightly, the way his head tilted, the way his tongue ran across his bottom lip before he even realized he was doing it.

he kept on mowing, watching you with that signature cameron smirk as you stepped closer.

when rafe finally got within reach, you handed him the iced tea, watching as he tipped his head back, swallowing deep, throat bobbing as he downed the whole thing. his adam’s apple moved, the way a bead of sweat trailed slowly down his collarbone, disappearing into the dip between his pecs.

shit, even that was sexy.

he set the glass in the cup holder, reached for you, placing his hand on your waist, pulling you in for a deep kiss.

“you spoil me, sweetheart, thank you.” he murmured against your lips. instead of responding, you just smiled, stepping up onto the mower, swinging your other leg around him, placing yourself right onto his lap. he smirked, although caught off guard.

“th’hell you think you’re doin’, darlin’?” he had to raise his voice over the mower’s rumbling engine, but his words were lazy, amused—his smirk widening as his rough hands smoothed over your hips.

his hands gripped your thighs, sliding under your sundress, fingertips dragging along bare skin.

when he realized there was nothing else beneath it, his smirk faltered just slightly. a deep, primal groan rumbled in his chest, his grip tightening.

you just smirked, trailing your fingers down the damp heat of his chest. “didn’t feel like waiting for you to be done mowing.”

his chuckle was deep, rough. “you just wanna sit pretty on my lap while I finish mowin’?”

but even as he said it, his hips pressed up slightly, a firm, teasing grind that made you shudder against him. and fuck, he was already so hard beneath his jeans. you leaned in, lips grazing his ear, voice sweet as honey. “not exactly,” you giggle against his jaw, lips barely touching his sweat-slick skin, “you just look so good while you work.”

“you been spyin’ on me, baby?” he grinned. his grip was firm, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, your waist, pulling you down tighter against him, forcing you to feel just how hard he was. the heat between you was unbearable. the mower still humming on idle, the slight breeze doing nothing to cool the fire licking up your spine.

“maybe.” you bite your lip to contain your smile, toying with his big, oval belt buckle.

“you really came out here with no panties on?” his voice was strained, rough, already wrecked.

you just smirked against his jaw, pressing a kiss there. “knew i wouldn’t need ‘em.”

rafe laughed, “are you tryin’ to kill me lady?” then with one hand still gripping the wheel, he used the other to shove his belt open, his jeans loose enough that he could free himself, his cock pressing against the slick warmth between your legs.

“shit, baby,” he murmured, grinding you against him, dragging the thick length of himself over your folds. “you’re this wet just watchin’ me mow the damn lawn?”

your cheeks flushed with red, that being enough of an answer for him. he lifted your hips just enough to let his thick dick slide in almost effortlessly from how aroused you were. your gasp got lost in the sound of the mower, but rafe heard it—felt it in the way your nails dug into his shoulders, the way your breath stuttered against his neck. his grip tightened on your hips, guiding you all the way down until he was buried inside you, stretching you open, filling you completely.

“fuck,” he groaned, “sweetest fuckin’ thing.” His grip on your waist was bruising, his hands guiding you, dragging you over him, setting a lazy, teasing rhythm that had you both spiraling. the heat between you was unbearable. the friction was everything.

you bit your lip, barely holding back a moan, hands fisting in his sweat-soaked hair. the lazy, teasing grind wasn’t enough. you needed more. needed him to fuck you. and rafe knew it.

you whimpered, rocking against him, your body burning with need, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable. rafe’s grip tightened. "this what you needed, baby?" his voice was gritty, full of lust, full of control. "you needed me to fuck you right here in the middle of the damn yard?"

you nodded eagerly, moaning into the sound of the mower's engine. his hands planted you firmly in place, hips snapping up to meet every roll of yours, his cock hitting so deep you saw stars. the mower vibrated beneath you, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure building, the absolute devastation he was wrecking on your body.

"goddamn, baby," he groaned, his forehead pressing to yours, sweat dripping down his temple, " 'm gonna fill you up right here. make sure this whole fuckin’ yard knows who ya' belong to."

his hands moved your hips up, harder, rougher, sharper, the mower still humming beneath you, his foot still on the brake, the world spinning, the heat thick and suffocating. but nothing compared to the heat between your bodies, the friction, the unbearable build reaching its peak. then his pace faltered and his grip on your hips turned bruising. his breath stuttered. his entire body shuddered, tightening, tensing—and with one final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep, letting out a wrecked, guttural groan as he spilled inside you.

his cum felt hot, thick, endless, inside you. his entire body twitched beneath you, his head falling back, jaw clenched, veins bulging in his neck. his eyes squeezed shut, fingers twitching against your waist, trying to pull you even closer, even deeper, as if he could fuse you together. his chest heaved against yours, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his lips parting against your damp skin. "holy shit," he rasped, voice wrecked, completely spent. he let out a slow, satisfied chuckle, shaking his head. "fuck, baby." his head tilted back, gazing up at the sky like he was thanking god himself for what had just happened. "you’re gonna be the damn death of me, woman."

you smirked, cheeks still flushed, body still tingling, completely satisfied. “wasn’t my fault,” you murmured, rolling your hips just slightly, teasing his cock that was still buried deep inside of you.

rafe groaned, both hands flying to grip your ass, stilling you. "don't. you. fucking. start," he gritted out, eyes fluttering shut for a second, chest still heaving. "baby, i ain't got anotha' round in me right now. shit--'m 'bout to have a fuckin' heat stroke."

[stardustquills]

thinking about a little quickie with dr. zayne ;) 18+, mdni. wc; 1.7k

-

“a-aah, zayne, mmf!” the doctor’s hand quickly covered your mouth, muffling your noises.

his thrusts came to a stop. he pulled you up, back against his chest, your pelvis still against his desk. he leaned down to whisper in your ear, voice all quiet and husky.

“you’re being too loud. what will the nurses think if they hear you, hmm?” he was right - he did have a reputation to uphold. “be quieter, or else i’ll stop. and i don’t think you what that to happen.”

“mmh-”

“i know, sweetheart, i know,”

he continued his pace, slowly at first and gradually gaining speed before he got to his tempo from before.

you didn’t know your little office visit would turn into this - your boyfriend’s hard cock pummelling into your gummy walls, right into that sweet spot that made made you see stars.

but how could he resist? not with you wearing that cute little summer dress, the one that hugged the curve of your tits and waist so nicely before the fabric flowed around your hips and legs. zayne thought he should show you how much he likes this dress by bunching it around your waist and pulling your panties to the side. after all, what type of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t compliment his girl? he just decided to show his affection physically, that’s all.

and you even brought him lunch, ordering him a meal after you finished your own when you went out with your friends. what a thoughtful girlfriend you were! all the more reason for him to shower you with his devotion.

“good job,” he praised you for quieting down, just like he asked. “doing so well for me.”

“mm-nngh, z-zayne,” you leaned your head back onto his shoulder, your eyes closing with the blissful pleasure he granted you.

“hmm, yes?”

“feels g-good…”

“of course it does,” he kissed your temple with a soft chuckle, his own soft noises of pleasure trailing past his lips. “doesn’t it always?”

you couldn’t help but nod, because he was right. he always made you feel good, like the good boyfriend he was.

zayne was extra cautious this time, though, making sure his hips didn’t come into contact with yours with each thrust. it made him a bit sad, he loved feeling his girlfriend’s plump ass against his hips, the sound of skin slapping together, but he just couldn’t risk the noise. he is the chief cardiac surgeon at asko hospital - he had a reputation to uphold. what would everyone think? the icy, distant doctor fucking his girlfriend in his office. imagine the gossip! it would spread like wildfire.

he couldn’t have that happening.

still, his cock made you feel so good. you were thankful it wasn’t ramming into your cervix like it did at home, always making you sore a day later. the tip kept brushing against that spongy spot in your walls, making your head spin. your legs started to quiver and your hands fell onto his desk, helping you support yourself.

zayne snickered quietly. “h-haah, tired already, sweetheart?” another breath left him as your cunt throbbed around his cock, a feeling he’d never tire from. his free hand snuck down your body, finding your clit. he drew stars with his finger, effectively making your eyes roll into the back of your head, making you see stars yourself. “you can do it.”

“you can’t just, mmmh, walk in here with that pretty dress, o-oh, and expect me not to fuck you.” he murmured gently into your ear. god, it was so hot, the way he spoke so eloquently, even when he was buried in you. he didn’t stutter, never tripping over his words, only a few whimpers breaking his sentence. “such a pretty girl you are. my pretty girl.”

your back arched as the pressure became too much, that coil in your tummy about to snap at any moment.

“zaynee,” your meek mewl muffled against the palm of his hand. he could feel your hot breath. “gon- mmph! gonna come…”

“stay quiet,” he reminded you as his hand slipped away from your mouth, sliding down to one of your breasts. his hand groped, squeezing through the fabric of your dress. it wrinkled under his hand, but that was the least of zayne’s worries. perfectly timed, the strap of your dress slipped off your shoulder, and he took the opportunity to glide his hand underneath, squeezing the flesh without any barriers.

he rolled your nipple under his fingers, eliciting a moan from you. your own hand came up to conceal your sounds, slapping against your face as your eyes widened.

he let himself moan into your ear, “good girl,” he praised as you attempted to keep yourself quiet. “just like i asked. still wanna come, baby?”

you nodded frantically, like you’d turn to dust if he didn’t let you come. and you just might, he’s been doing an exceptional job at making you feel good, the last thing you needed was to come. “yes, yes,”

“what’s the magic word?”

“please, zayne, please,” you panted like a bitch in heat. “so- nngh, ‘m so close!”

“i know baby, i can tell,” his hand squeezed your tit again before flicking your hardened nipple. so hard it hurt. “come ‘round my cock, will you? can you come like a good girl for me?”

you’re so close, and you can’t get enough of him. his voice, his hands, his dick - fuck, you were so far gone. you’re too cock drunk to think of anything but your doting boyfriend.

and he’s close too, but of course he won’t come until you do, because that’s what a good boyfriend does. he’ll always make you finish first before even thinking about his own release. zayne is truly a gentleman, through and through, completely and utterly whipped for the girl that’s pressed against his desk, the girl his cock keeps on sinking into.

“mmmh, there you go, sweetheart,” you praises when he knows you’re coming. pussy walls sweetly clenching around his dick, trying to milk him for all he’s worth.

you had to bite down on a knuckle of yours in order to keep quiet, to stifle your moans as your body tremored. zayne’s fingers slowed, still rubbing delicate circles as you rode the waves of your orgasm. his thrusts gradually came to a stop, his own building orgasm slowly dissipating. he doesn’t mind, of course, it’s something he can take care of later. right now, he’s focused on making sure his girl feels good, making sure she knows just how much he loves and appreciates her.

his cock slips out and you clench around nothing, but you’re caught off guard at his neck words.

“turn around,”

“what? but zayne,”

“please, sweetheart.”

you obey - he’s never one to beg.

zayne helps you sit on the edge of his desk before he drops to his knees, his strong, surgeon hands holding your legs apart as he kisses the soft flesh of your thigh.

he’s so focused on your cunt, all other thoughts leave his mind when the smell and taste hit him. his tongue licks a long stripe on your slit, nectarous and luscious.

he thinks your cunt could satiate his sweet tooth better than any treat.

his eyes flick up to yours, hazel-green ones staring into yours, watching, studying your expression as he starts sucking on your clit.

your eyes are half lidded as you look down at him, one of your hands instinctively finding its way into his hair as the other stays covering your mouth, continuing to smother your sounds.

the corners of his eyes wrinkle as he smiles, hearts floating in his pretty irises. zayne moves so he can stick his tongue into you, greedily lapping up your sweet sap. he moans and whines into your cunt, the vibrations only serving to make you feel even better. he’s muffled but you could still hear him. his eyes closed as he lost himself in you. occasionally, his eyes would open and glance at your face as his tongue worked tirelessly to please, and closing again when he sees that you’re enjoying yourself just as much as he is.

“a-aahmmm,” your back arched as the hand in his hair drove him further into your pussy. “so- oh! there, yes! so good, zayne!”

how could he stop with praise like that? he kept going, tongue pumping as his nose brushes against your swollen clit. you thighs threaten to close around him, trembling as your toes curled in your shoes. he doesn’t let them, using more pressure to force them apart.

your hips bucked, “yes!” you panted, biting on two fingers now, “there, zayne, please! ‘m so, so close, please,” you babbled, an endless chorus of worship for your boyfriend and his skillful mouth.

zayne didn’t even bother to talk you through it, knowing you were close enough already. he let you push his face further into your cunt, your slick coating his chin and nose. he almost laughed against you, loving the way you used and took what you wanted from him, but he’d never admit it no matter how hard it got him.

your second orgasm rippled through you - you came with a whine as your chest rose with each deep breath. you looked down at the man between your thighs, seeing the shiny coat of your arousal on his lips like gloss. zayne had a happy smile on his face, and he placed a peck on your clit before standing up again.

he grabbed a tissue off his desk and promptly cleaned you up, careful and precise. you stayed seated on his desk as he stood between your legs, kissing your forehead after he tossed the tissue.

he leaned back, his hands coming up to cup your face fondly. the doctor opened his mouth to say something, but was rudely interrupted by a series of knocks on his door.

thank god it was locked.

“dr. zayne!” greyson’s familiar voice rang through the door, followed by a number of knocks once more. “there’s a patient here to see you, says they’re feeling some-“

“give me a minute!” zayne called, his head falling onto your shoulder with an annoyed sigh. he took a deep breath, kissing your neck before pulling back and placing a chaste kiss to you lips. you both wish that kiss lasted longer.

“duty calls,” he said apologetically, his hands slipping from your face to your arms.

you just giggled, nodding understandably. “i know.”

-

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

[chrollohearttags]

°˖✧✿✧˖° lose it • e. jaeger °˖✧✿✧˖°

📃: musician!eren, influencer reader, nipple play, subby eren, footjob, overstimulation, mentions of other suggestive themes, riding, orgasm denial (if you squint)

📝: posted this on Patreon a while back but like with everything I wrote, it got taken down. So here it is again bc this man is on my mind again 😩 I’ll be revisiting this au again very soon

wc: 1.1K

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

“Shit!—princesssss..oh fuck…”

“Eren, babe..you gotta be quiet. We’re gonna get caught.”

a tall request to ask of your musician husband at the moment but you’d still try nonetheless. Tossing a cupped palm around his mouth, (y/n) (l/n) tried your hardest to stifle those loud moans escaping his lips but to no avail. To think that the same EJ the Don, who was just on stage performing and rapping the most obscene lyrics..had now been reduced to a babbling mess by his pretty little wife. Truthfully though, you were just biding your time until you could get him all to yourself. See, the two of you had entered into a contract for the duration of his international tour and your group, the Pole Assassins, would be hoping his collective, Dead Boys. This was following the aftermath of a scandal with another artist who refused to allow you to be the main dancer on his stage. Naturally, it was all of you or none at all. So your husband, entering a new era with his artistry..wanted you to be around for the journey. Although you were hesitant, and felt as if his fanbase wouldn’t be receptive to it, you were completely wrong. From the states to Europe, you girls were the talk of the entire performance. Whilst Eren and the rest of his crew swooned sultry lyrics during slower tracks, you all were right there twirling above them…doing unbelievable stunts. When it came to more high energy joints, you’d rejoin them and mirror that of the girls in the strip club. There was one track in particular where you and Eren had a solo stunt. You’d climb to the top of the pole and when the beat dropped, you’d come down split leg into his lap as he sat in a chair with his thighs spread wide. Money would fall from the ceiling and accompany you. It was a variation of your infamous Kiss of Death that had gone viral countless times. You’d even have segments where you’d invite fans up on stage to try and mimic your movements and they’d have a blast. Especially at the 18+ shows. Not to mention all of the offstage antics between your groups…even your manager, choreographer friends and hairstylists were on the trip and it was a ball. Needless to say, all of you were having a good time!

however, fans began to notice that a new sound wasn’t the only change in EJ. His appearance was different as well. His skin seemed to glow something serious. His once defined abs were back and his outfits seemed to become a lot more revealing. He was coming out his shirt more; chains banging against his chest during performances and that large collection of tattoos seemed to grow even bigger. Even some of the crew’s wardrobe resembled that of an idol group when they performed together with different variations for each. But perhaps the most noticeable change? Those silver bars protruding from his pectorals. Particularly his nipples! Piercings he’d acquired one night on a whim, when you divulged how sexy they’d look on him. Granted, it wasn’t as if you were pushing the issue or even begging him to but when it came to his princess, he’d all but jump off the edge of the earth to see you smile. Naturally, it was the exact reaction he got too!..you were utterly shocked when he came back to your hotel room, climbed on top of you and began ravaging your body. That night, he fucked you like an absolute dog!..fingers in your mouth as he fed you backshots, placing you into a headlock and even twisting you up akin to a pretzel as he forced you into orgasm after orgasm..pounding your throat from the side of the bed. He even went for some backdoor exploration when he discovered you’d brought an anal plug along for the trip! You’d definitely had your fair share of wild nights with Eren but this one was insane. Three years of marriage but he was treating you like a slut off of the street..it was so fucking hot! His only explanation? He was egregiously horny after getting his piercings done. All he could think about was getting back to you!

But now, it was time to return the favor…right after the show, the two of you found yourselves in (y/n)’s dressing room. Sprawled out on the pink leather couch with his fishnet top ripped around as your tongue swirled around his sensitive buds. You’d start off by slowly kissing them..licking and lapping. Meanwhile, your acrylic fingertips wrapped around his shaft and stroked it. His cock was seeping with precum and was equally as red as those rhinestones as your outfit for the night. You even made him sit in front of you with your legs coiling his waist as your clear Pleasers rubbed up against his throbbing member..you’d never seen him so overstimulated in your life. You were afraid he was going to bust any second! However, he’d just continue begging for more..panting and whining as you played his most erogenous areas. ‘Baby..calm down. Someone’s gonna hear us, okay?” Which was absolutely unfair to ask! He was so damned aroused, he didn’t know what to do. Being this vulnerable wasn’t typically how you guys’ sex life went. You were normally the one whining and whimpering for more!..but alas, tables had turned.

“B-but I can’t..just feels so good..” It was a crime how cute he looked at the moment! Rutting himself into the palm of your hand and biting his lip to attempt to stifle his moans. You’d make it all but impossible to refrain from reaching climatic bliss when you asked him to lie flat on his back so you could ride him. From the moment you positioned yourself on his crotch, peeling those panties back and sinking his cock into your warmth, you would’ve sworn that your husband was looking at a ghost. His eyes stretched three times their own size until they eventually rolled back. That thick, heavy ass ricocheting off of his lap as those thrusts got harder. All the while, your fingertips caressed his nipples whilst you finally began deriving your own pleasure. Just the thought of him alone was enough to make you reach ecstasy…

“Then let it out, baby..I won’t hold it against you..”

and the way you were fucking on him, was enough to make him lose it!

[pinkmoontaco]

can you do one about idol jeonghan x idol reader that gets into a dating scandal but ends up actually dating? pretty pleaseee i love u work btw

Caught in the Spotlight || Yoon Jeonghan

Pairing: Idol Jeonghan x Idol reader Summary: When a dating scandal erupts, Y/N’s career is put at risk, forcing her to face public backlash and betrayal. Amid the chaos, Jeonghan stands by her side, determined to protect her no matter the cost. As they navigate fame, heartbreak, and tough choices, they discover that love — even in the harshest spotlight — can shine the brightest. Genre: Drama, Romance, Fluff

Authors note: Hey everyone, 😊!! I'm back with a story that was requested by one of you! First off, I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the love and support you’ve shown. Your sweet comments, reblogs, and kind words truly inspire me to keep writing, so please keep them coming and please don't forget to follow for more stories like this!! Love you guys ❤️ And also feel free to make any request for any other members or other group M.list

The night air was crisp, the streets dimly lit by flickering streetlights as Jeonghan stepped out of the upscale restaurant. His fingers tugged his mask higher over his face, hoping to slip away unnoticed. The dinner had been a quiet one — a casual gathering with a few industry friends — nothing to raise eyebrows.

But luck clearly wasn’t on his side tonight.

"Jeonghan-ssi?"

He turned at the familiar voice. Standing just a few feet away was you, still adjusting the strap of your bag. Dressed down in a hoodie and jeans, you looked far from the glamorous idol the public was used to seeing.

“Oh… hey,” Jeonghan said, surprised.

You offered a polite smile — the kind idols mastered after years in the spotlight — and gave a small nod. “Didn’t know you were here too.”

“Yeah… just dinner with a few friends,” he explained, pointing over his shoulder.

There was an awkward pause. You weren’t exactly strangers — award shows, backstage run-ins, and overlapping schedules had put you in the same circles before — but you were hardly close.

“Well… have a good night,” you said, turning to leave.

But just then —

Flash! Flash! Flash!

The blinding burst of camera flashes lit up the street like fireworks. Shouts filled the air as a group of paparazzi rounded the corner, cameras firing wildly.

“Jeonghan-ssi! Is this your girlfriend?”

“Are you two dating?”

“Y/N! Did you spend the night together?”

“What the—” Jeonghan barely had time to react before you instinctively grabbed his arm.

“Let’s go!” you hissed, pulling him down the street. The two of you weaved through the crowd, the sound of hurried footsteps and shouting reporters echoing behind you.

“Here!” Jeonghan yanked you into a side alley, pressing his back against the wall as you both caught your breath. Your fingers were still gripping his sleeve tightly.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low.

“I think so,” you panted, dropping his arm like it burned. “But that… that looked really bad.”

Jeonghan ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah… really bad.”

The next morning

[BREAKING] SEVENTEEN’s Jeonghan and Y/N caught in late-night date — ‘Secret Romance Revealed?’ ‘Caught Leaving Together?’ Dating Rumors Explode Online Fans Demand Clarification After Jeonghan and Y/N's Late-Night Sighting

You scrolled through your phone in disbelief. The blurry photos plastered across the screen showed Jeonghan standing too close, your hand gripping his arm as if you were clinging to him for dear life. #Jeonghan_YN_Dating was already trending.

“Unbelievable…” you muttered. Your phone buzzed. Unknown Number.

“Hello?”

“You saw the articles, right?” Jeonghan’s voice came through the line, sounding both frustrated and tired.

“Yeah…” You rubbed your temples. “This is insane.”

“PR wants us to ‘clear things up,’” Jeonghan said. “They’re asking us to… I don’t know, act friendly? Like we’re just close industry friends.”

You sighed. “Great. So now we’re fake besties.”

“Apparently.” Jeonghan’s voice held a bitter chuckle. “We’re meeting tomorrow for a staged café run. Try not to look too miserable, yeah?”

“Only if you promise not to look smug.”

“Me? Smug?” He laughed, and for a moment, the tension lifted.

But as you hung up, reality set back in. This was going to be a disaster.

The café was buzzing with quiet conversations and clinking cups, yet all you could hear was the rapid thudding of your own heartbeat. Jeonghan sat across from you, casually stirring his iced americano as if this wasn’t the most awkward situation imaginable. The small corner table — handpicked by your managers for “privacy” — felt like a stage under the weight of curious stares.

“Smile,” Jeonghan muttered through his teeth, still pretending to focus on his drink.

“I am smiling,” you shot back, lips barely lifting.

“Try harder.”

Rolling your eyes, you plastered on the fakest grin you could manage.

“That’s terrifying,” Jeonghan chuckled, unable to hold back.

You groaned, adjusting your sunglasses for the third time. “Why did they think this would fix anything?”

“Apparently,” Jeonghan said, voice dipped in sarcasm, “if we sit here long enough looking ‘friendly,’ people will believe we’re just pals.” He took a casual sip of his drink, pausing before adding, “You know… instead of lovers escaping a secret date in the dead of night.”

“Please don’t say that out loud,” you muttered, heat rushing to your face.

Unfortunately, Jeonghan’s comment wasn’t far from the truth. The rumors had spiraled overnight — fans digging through old footage, claiming your eyes met too often on music show stages or that Jeonghan’s smile was “different” when you were nearby. Theories ran wild.

“I can’t believe they think I’m dating you,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Jeonghan nearly choked on his drink. “Excuse me?” He placed a dramatic hand over his chest. “Wow. I’m hurt.”

“You’ll survive,” you muttered.

“Unbelievable,” he huffed, shaking his head with a smile that was entirely too smug. “You could’ve at least pretended to be flattered.”

“Flattered?” You snorted. “I’m too busy drowning in hate comments to feel flattered.”

That wiped the grin off his face. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Same.”

For a brief moment, the tension shifted — less awkward, more… real. Jeonghan’s fingers tapped restlessly against his cup, his gaze flickering to the café window where two girls lingered, phones in hand.

“Don’t look now,” he murmured. “But we’ve got an audience.” You instinctively glanced anyway — a terrible decision. The girls' eyes widened as they registered your face, one of them hurriedly whispering to the other.

“Great,” you muttered. “They’re definitely posting that.”

“Guess we better sell this, huh?” Jeonghan grinned — a mischievous one this time — and before you could ask what he meant, he reached across the table and plucked a crumb from the corner of your mouth.

Your heart stopped. “W-What are you doing?” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Helping,” Jeonghan said casually, popping the crumb into his mouth like it was no big deal.

“Unbelievable…” you muttered under your breath, but you knew the girls by the window were practically vibrating in excitement.

“We’re making headlines again, aren’t we?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Jeonghan said, voice full of smug satisfaction.

Later That Night

Your phone buzzed non-stop — articles, tweets, and fan edits were already flooding the internet.

“Jeonghan and Y/N spotted on a cozy café date — new couple in the industry?” “Jeonghan’s sweet gesture has fans melting — ‘Did you see him wipe her mouth?!’” “#Jeonghan_YN_CoupleGoals” trending No. 1 worldwide

You groaned, dropping your phone onto your bed. “This is never going to end…”

A text from Jeonghan popped up seconds later: Jeonghan: We should start charging for this. We’re practically giving K-drama scenes for free. 😎

Despite yourself, you laughed.

Jeonghan: Hey… hope you’re okay. Don’t let the comments get to you.

For the first time since the scandal broke, you felt something ease inside you.

You: Thanks. You too.

It had only been three days since the scandal broke, but it felt like weeks. Your name hadn’t left the headlines since the café outing, and no matter how many statements your agency released, the rumors only seemed to grow. The media twisted every tiny detail — analyzing your outfits, digging up old footage, even speculating that SEVENTEEN’s latest album hinted at Jeonghan’s “secret romance.”

Today was no different.

“Ready?” your manager asked, peeking into the waiting room.

You sighed, adjusting your oversized blazer — something your stylist had picked to make you look “more serious and professional” for the upcoming press event. “As I’ll ever be,” you muttered.

“You’ll be fine,” your manager encouraged, though the tension in her voice betrayed her worry.

But the second you stepped outside, you realized fine wasn’t on today’s agenda.

The reporters swarmed like bees, microphones shoved dangerously close to your face. Flashes blinded you, and voices overlapped into a deafening roar.

“Y/N! Over here!”

“Is it true you’ve been dating Jeonghan for months?”

“Did you meet his family?”

“Is this a PR stunt?”

“Excuse me—” you tried, your voice shaking.

Your breath hitched. The air suddenly felt too thick, your head spinning from the overwhelming noise.

“Y/N, look this way!”

“Are you moving in with him?”

“Hey! Back off!” Suddenly, a hand gripped your wrist — firm but steady — and you felt yourself being pulled away from the chaos.

Jeonghan.

He barely looked back as he guided you through the crowd, one arm instinctively moving behind you as a barrier. He didn’t let go until you were safely tucked inside a black van, the door slamming shut behind you.

“Are you okay?” Jeonghan asked, his voice softer now.

You exhaled shakily, pressing your palms to your temples. “I… yeah. Just... overwhelmed.”

Jeonghan frowned, his usual playful smile nowhere to be seen. “They’re insane out there.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered. “They think I’m halfway down the aisle with you.”

That earned a dry chuckle from Jeonghan. “Well, I am a catch.”

You let out a weak laugh despite yourself, grateful for the tension lifting.

But then Jeonghan’s voice turned serious again. “You know… you don’t have to deal with this alone.”

You looked up, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know you’re getting a lot of hate because of me. And I hate that. So if you… if you need space, or if you want me to back off —”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, surprising both of you.

Jeonghan blinked. “What?”

Your fingers fidgeted in your lap. “I just… I’m tired of feeling like I have to deal with this alone. It’s stupid, but… you make it a little easier.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Jeonghan’s gaze softened, and his usual teasing smirk faded into something gentler.

“Well…” He shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours. “I guess that makes two of us.”

The warmth of his presence lingered long after you’d parted ways.

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“Hyung… what is this?”

Jeonghan nearly choked on his water as Seungkwan slammed his phone on the table. The screen displayed a photo of Jeonghan guiding you into the van — his hand lingering on your waist a little too comfortably.

“‘Jeonghan’s Protective Boyfriend Era?’” Joshua read aloud, grinning. “Ohh, this is gold.”

“Did you see the comments?” Seungkwan added dramatically. “They’re calling you ‘Jeonghan-oppa’ now.”

“You guys are so annoying,” Jeonghan groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Mingyu leaned over with a wolfish grin. “We’re just getting started.”

The charity event was supposed to be simple — smile, wave, and look composed. But of course, nothing was ever simple when you were standing beside Yoon Jeonghan.

The second you stepped onto the carpet together, the whispers began.

You kept your expression calm, but the tension coiled tight in your chest. Jeonghan, walking just a step ahead, seemed unfazed — effortlessly charming as he greeted photographers.

“Look, it’s them…”

“They’re totally dating.”

“Did you see that café video? He wiped her mouth!”

“Smile,” Jeonghan muttered through his teeth, barely moving his lips.

“I am smiling,” you shot back, your grin strained.

“Then why do you look like you want to set something on fire?”

“Because I do.”

Jeonghan huffed a soft laugh, barely audible over the noise of cameras clicking. To the crowd, it probably looked like the two of you were flirting — as if the fake smiles and forced laughter meant something more.

“Relax,” Jeonghan murmured. “I’ve got you.”

The words — simple as they were — eased something inside you.

Inside the ballroom, the chaos had dulled to murmured conversations and clinking glasses. Your manager had instructed you and Jeonghan to stay close for appearances, which meant you were stuck together for the evening.

“Here,” Jeonghan said, pressing a glass of water into your hand.

“Thanks,” you muttered, barely managing a smile before taking a sip.

He didn’t move away, hovering beside you instead. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lied.

But you weren’t. The stares hadn’t stopped, and the whispers felt deafening. Each smile you forced felt like a crack in your armor.

“Come with me,” Jeonghan said quietly.

“What?”

“Just… trust me.”

The air was cool, crisp against your skin as Jeonghan held the door open for you. The hum of the event below faded, replaced by the stillness of the city lights stretching far into the horizon.

“Breathe,” Jeonghan said softly.

You did. The cold air stung your lungs, but at least out here, you could think.

“I know this is a lot,” Jeonghan murmured, leaning against the railing beside you. “I didn’t think it’d get this bad either.”

“I hate it,” you admitted, your voice quieter than you expected. “The rumors, the comments… I feel like I can’t even breathe without people twisting it into something else.”

Jeonghan was quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he said, voice softer now. “I get that.”

You turned to him, surprised. “You?”

He huffed a dry laugh. “Trust me, being SEVENTEEN’s ‘angel’ gets exhausting.” He smiled bitterly. “If I’m too nice, people think I’m fake. If I’m too quiet, they say I’m cold. And now…” He gestured vaguely between you two. “Now I’m the guy who’s apparently been sneaking around with a secret girlfriend for months.”

You laughed weakly. “I’d be a terrible secret girlfriend.”

Jeonghan grinned, his usual mischief flickering back. “Yeah… you’d totally blow our cover.”

The joke was light, but the air between you shifted — quieter, heavier.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you admitted. “You never seem to let it get to you.”

“I do,” Jeonghan said quietly. “I just… don’t let people see it.”

There it was — a rare crack in his usual playful mask. And before you could think better of it, your hand reached out, resting lightly over his.

“You don’t have to do that all the time,” you said softly. “You don’t always have to be the one holding everything together.”

Jeonghan’s fingers curled slightly under yours — warm and steady — and you realized with a jolt that you didn’t want to pull away.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

And for a moment, the noise, the rumors, the chaos — none of it mattered. It was just you, Jeonghan, and the quiet comfort of knowing you weren’t alone in this mess.

The comments wouldn’t stop.

Every time you unlocked your phone, they flooded your screen like a raging storm.

"She’s not even pretty. Why would Jeonghan date her?" "She’s using him for attention." "She’s ruining his image."

Your fingers hovered over the screen, scrolling mindlessly through the endless wave of insults. Each comment felt sharper than the last — words that twisted in your chest like knives.

At first, you tried to ignore it. You told yourself it would pass. That people would move on.

But they didn’t.

Instead, your name stayed trending — not for your music, not for your hard work, but because people were convinced you weren’t good enough to stand beside Yoon Jeonghan.

And today… today was worse.

An edited photo of you — your face distorted, mocked, and plastered with cruel captions — had gone viral. The quote beneath it read:

"Proof Jeonghan could do so much better."

Your vision blurred as you locked your phone and set it face-down on your desk. The lump in your throat burned, and no matter how hard you swallowed, it wouldn’t go away.

A shaky breath escaped your lips, and before you knew it — you were crying. Silent, angry tears that spilled faster than you could stop them.

Later That Evening — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

Jeonghan had barely stepped into the living room when he heard the conversation.

“...Did you see what they’re saying about her?” Joshua’s voice was quiet, but laced with concern.

“Yeah,” Mingyu muttered. “It’s brutal.”

“I don’t get it,” Seungkwan huffed. “She’s talented. She’s gorgeous. And she’s one of the nicest idols I’ve met. Why are they—?”

“Because people love tearing others down,” Joshua said grimly.

Jeonghan’s stomach twisted. He didn’t need to hear more. He already knew — the hateful comments, the constant targeting — he’d seen it all.

And you were enduring it alone.

Your Apartment

The knock at your door startled you.

You dragged yourself off the couch, wiping your face as best you could before opening it.

“Jeonghan?”

His eyes flickered over you — the red-rimmed eyes, the dull expression, the exhaustion etched into your face. His teasing smile was gone, replaced by something softer… something that looked dangerously close to concern.

“Can I come in?” he asked quietly.

You stepped aside, too drained to argue.

Jeonghan didn’t say anything right away. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, watching you like he wasn’t sure where to start.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” he finally said.

“I know,” you muttered.

Jeonghan exhaled heavily. “Have you seen what people are saying?”

“I’ve seen plenty,” you said bitterly. “Kind of hard to miss when your face is everywhere.”

“Hey…” His voice softened. “You can’t let them get to you.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snapped, your voice cracking. “They’re not calling you ugly. They’re not saying you’re only famous because of some fake scandal.”

Jeonghan’s gaze sharpened. “That’s not fair.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Isn’t it?”

“I know what people are saying,” Jeonghan said firmly. “But they’re wrong. All of them.”

“Doesn’t really feel that way.” Your voice wavered. “It feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Jeonghan’s expression softened. Without warning, he reached out, his hand curling gently around your wrist.

“You’re more than enough,” he said quietly.

You blinked up at him, startled. “You don’t have to say that just because—”

“I’m not.” His grip tightened — not enough to hurt, but enough to ground you. “I mean it.”

And when your eyes flickered to his, you saw it — the warmth, the sincerity… the way Jeonghan was looking at you like you were someone worth protecting.

Your breath hitched. “I don’t know how to keep pretending this doesn’t hurt,” you whispered.

Jeonghan’s fingers slid from your wrist to your hand, threading between your fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Then don’t,” he murmured. “You don’t have to be okay right now. Just… let me stay?”

Your walls — the ones you’d spent weeks building — finally crumbled. The tears came faster than you could stop them, and before you knew it, Jeonghan’s arms were around you.

“I’m right here,” he whispered against your hair. “I’ve got you.”

And for the first time in weeks, you believed it.

The hateful comments didn’t stop. If anything, they’d gotten worse.

Every new headline dragged you back into the spotlight — "Jeonghan’s Rumored Girlfriend Under Fire Again!" — and your face was splashed across every gossip site. The cruel words felt endless, no matter how much you tried to ignore them.

But there was one unexpected shift.

Jeonghan.

Since that night in your apartment, he hadn’t left your side. Texts every morning asking if you’d eaten. Calls before performances. Quiet glances from across crowded rooms — a silent check-in only you seemed to notice.

You should’ve been grateful. But instead, it was starting to scare you.

Because Jeonghan wasn’t acting anymore.

At the Music Show Recording

“You’ll be okay?” Jeonghan asked quietly.

You nodded, adjusting your mic pack with shaky fingers. “Yeah… I’ll be fine.”

“Hey,” his voice softened. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

You swallowed hard, your gaze flicking toward the backstage monitors. The audience outside was louder than usual, and you already knew why. The crowd was buzzing with signs, banners — some supportive, others cruel.

Jeonghan followed your gaze and sighed. “Unbelievable…”

“I’m used to it,” you muttered.

“Well, I’m not.” His tone sharpened, and before you could stop him, Jeonghan was already moving toward the stage entrance.

“Wait — Jeonghan, what are you doing?” you called after him.

“Fixing this.”

On Stage

It started with a simple interview — routine questions about SEVENTEEN’s comeback. Jeonghan smiled, cracked a few jokes, and kept the mood light.

But when the MC shifted gears, you knew things were about to get messy.

“So, Jeonghan,” the host began, smirking, “I have to ask… how’s your special someone doing?”

Laughter rippled through the audience — some genuine, some mocking. Cameras panned to the crowd, flashing glimpses of posters with your face crossed out.

Your chest tightened.

“Yeah,” the MC chuckled, “I heard her group’s getting a lot of… attention lately.”

The comment stung, disguised as a joke but loaded with malice.

Jeonghan’s smile vanished.

“Actually,” he said, voice firm, “I think her group’s doing amazing. They’ve worked hard, and they deserve the attention they’re getting — positive attention.”

The room went silent.

Jeonghan’s gaze hardened as he continued, “And I think people forget that no matter how famous someone is… they’re still human. They still feel things. So maybe instead of hiding behind keyboards and tearing someone down, people should focus on supporting the artists they claim to love.”

His words lingered in the air — sharp, deliberate, and impossible to ignore.

The host shifted uncomfortably. “Well… that’s very… thoughtful of you, Jeonghan.”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan said dryly, “I’m thoughtful.”

And just like that, he grabbed his mic stand and strolled off the stage.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said the second Jeonghan appeared backstage.

“Yes, I did,” he shot back, his voice unusually tense.

“Jeonghan…”

“I’m serious.” His gaze softened, and he took a step closer. “They’ve been dragging your name for weeks. I couldn’t just stand there.”

“I can handle it,” you whispered, your voice barely steady.

“You shouldn’t have to.”

You stared at him, unsure how to respond — unsure how to deal with the way his words made your heart ache in a way that had nothing to do with the hate.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked softly.

Jeonghan’s eyes locked on yours — steady and unwavering.

“Because I care,” he said simply.

Your breath caught. “This is starting to feel… too real.”

“It is real,” Jeonghan murmured, his fingers brushing your hand. His thumb ghosted over your knuckles — soft, lingering, far too gentle to mean nothing.

Before you could stop yourself, your fingers curled against his.

“Jeonghan…”

“I’m not pretending anymore,” he whispered.

And suddenly, you weren’t sure where the lines between fake and real even existed anymore.

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“I knew it!” Seungkwan’s voice rang through the living room. “He’s gone! Completely whipped!”

“I called it first,” Mingyu shot back.

“You did not!”

Joshua grinned from the couch. “I’m just saying… I’m free on Friday if you guys need help picking out wedding tuxedos.”

Jeonghan groaned, slumping face-first into a pillow.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“Unbelievably cute,” Seungkwan corrected.

From under the pillow, Jeonghan’s muffled voice rang out:

“I’m never leaving this dorm again…”

The headlines spread like wildfire.

"Yoon Jeonghan Defends Rumored Girlfriend — 'She’s More Than Enough!’” "Jeonghan Stuns Fans with Emotional Statement — Is Their Relationship Real After All?" "SEVENTEEN’s Jeonghan Steps In — Fans Divided Over His Bold Move."

Your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Fans. Reporters. Even people you hadn’t spoken to in years — everyone had something to say about Jeonghan’s outburst.

The pressure twisted in your chest, and no matter how many times you told yourself to breathe, your heart wouldn’t slow down.

“Are you two really dating?”

“Is he only defending you because the scandal’s true?”

“Why is Jeonghan acting so… protective?”

At the Practice Room

“You’re not answering your phone,” Jeonghan said quietly, standing in the doorway.

“I needed some air,” you muttered, hugging your knees to your chest. The practice room was dark except for the faint glow of the city lights outside. It was quiet — the only place that felt safe these days.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

You swallowed hard. “I just… I didn’t know what to say.”

Jeonghan sighed, stepping further inside. He crossed the room slowly, like he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to get. “I know things are… messy right now.”

“That’s an understatement.” You let out a humorless laugh. “Half the internet thinks I’m some manipulative, fame-hungry girl who tricked you into falling for her.”

“Yeah?” Jeonghan’s voice sharpened. “Well, the other half thinks I’m some careless jerk playing with your feelings.”

You blinked. “That’s not true.”

“Neither’s what they’re saying about you,” he shot back.

Silence settled between you — thick, uncomfortable, and impossible to ignore.

“You shouldn’t have said all that,” you muttered. “Now everyone’s even more convinced this is real.”

Jeonghan scoffed. “You think I care what they believe?”

“You should!” you snapped. “Your group — your career — you put all of it on the line because of me.”

“Because I care about you!” Jeonghan’s voice rose — louder than you’d ever heard it.

The words seemed to echo in the room, both of you frozen in their aftermath.

“You…” Your voice faltered. “You what?”

Jeonghan let out a shaky breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “I care about you,” he repeated, softer this time. “I know this whole thing started as damage control, but…” His voice broke slightly. “It’s not just that anymore.”

Your heart pounded painfully in your chest. “Jeonghan…”

“I know,” he cut in quickly. “I know this is bad timing, and I know you’re tired, and I know you probably think I’m just —”

“I don’t,” you whispered.

Jeonghan blinked. “You don’t?”

“I don’t think you’re just… anything.” Your fingers toyed anxiously with the hem of your sleeve. “I just don’t understand why. Why now?”

Jeonghan sighed, stepping closer. “Because I’ve been watching you try to hold yourself together for weeks now — pretending it doesn’t hurt when I know it does.” His voice softened, like he was afraid of pushing you too far. “And every time I see you smile like you’re fine when I know you’re not… it makes me crazy.”

He took another step — so close now you could feel his warmth. “I don’t care what people say,” he murmured. “I just… I couldn’t stand watching you go through this alone.”

Your breath hitched. “I wasn’t alone.”

“You felt alone,” Jeonghan corrected. “And I’m not letting that happen again.”

His hand lifted, fingers brushing your cheek so gently it felt like a whisper.

“You’re not alone anymore,” he said softly.

The warmth of his touch lingered long after he pulled away.

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“I told you!” Seungkwan declared, dramatically flopping onto the couch.

“Unbelievable,” Mingyu grinned. “Hyung’s down bad.”

“Can you two stop?” Joshua chuckled from the kitchen. “Jeonghan’s already regretting everything.”

“I heard that,” Jeonghan groaned from his room.

“We know,” Seungkwan yelled back.

“Good luck keeping this one quiet,” Mingyu added smugly. “At this rate, you’ll be holding hands on stage by next week.”

Jeonghan pulled his pillow over his face and groaned louder.

The night should’ve been simple — just another music show broadcast with groups performing and greeting fans.

But of course, things were never simple anymore.

Since Jeonghan’s public defense, the tension had only grown worse. Some fans called his speech romantic, praising him for standing up for you. Others… weren’t so kind.

Tonight, those cruel voices felt louder than ever.

Backstage at the Music Show

You stood quietly in the hallway, scrolling through your phone. The comments were brutal.

"Still riding Jeonghan’s fame, huh?" "She’s lucky her face isn’t part of their concept, ‘cause wow…” "Why can’t she just disappear already?"

You swallowed the lump rising in your throat and locked your phone.

“Don’t read that stuff.”

You turned to see Jeonghan standing a few feet away, his expression softer than usual.

“I wasn’t,” you lied.

“You were,” Jeonghan said firmly, stepping closer. “And you don’t deserve any of it.”

Before you could answer, a staff member called for SEVENTEEN to head to the stage.

Jeonghan hesitated, gaze lingering on you. “I’ll be back, okay?”

You forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t look convinced.

On Stage — The Ending Segment

The music show’s closing ceremony was chaotic — idols packed together, waving to fans while confetti rained down. Cameras scanned the groups, lingering on certain faces longer than others.

That’s when you heard it.

“Hey.”

A voice, low but cutting, came from somewhere behind you.

“You should’ve quit while you had the chance,” the voice sneered. “Maybe then Jeonghan’s career wouldn’t be going down with yours.”

You froze. The words hit like a slap, sharp and humiliating.

Slowly, you turned. A junior idol — someone desperate for attention — stood smirking, clearly pleased with himself.

“Excuse me?” you said quietly, your fingers curling into fists.

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged. “You’re dragging him down. Maybe if you weren’t so —”

“What did you just say?”

The voice wasn’t yours this time.

Jeonghan appeared like a shadow, stepping between you and the other idol. His usual teasing smile was gone — replaced with something colder, sharper.

“Jeonghan, hey,” the guy stammered, suddenly looking less confident. “I was just joking —”

“That wasn’t a joke.” Jeonghan’s voice was low, dangerously calm. “If you have a problem with me, fine. But don’t you ever talk about her like that again.”

The crowd was starting to notice — cameras turning, staff whispering.

“Relax, man,” the guy mumbled. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I don’t care what you meant,” Jeonghan snapped. “If you say one more word about her, you’re gonna regret it.”

And then — before you could even process what was happening — Jeonghan grabbed your hand.

Firm. Protective. Unapologetic.

The noise around you blurred as he pulled you offstage, ignoring the murmurs and stares. His fingers didn’t loosen their hold until you were backstage — away from the cameras and the judging eyes.

Backstage — Moments Later

“Jeonghan…” you started, still stunned. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” he shot back. “You think I was just gonna stand there and let him humiliate you?”

“It’s not your fight,” you said quietly.

“Yes, it is.” His voice softened, but his gaze didn’t waver. “I don’t care what people say about me. But you?” His hand slid down your arm, fingers curling over your wrist again — softer this time. “I’m not letting anyone treat you like that.”

Your breath hitched. “You’re going to get dragged into more rumors if you keep—”

“Let them talk.” Jeonghan’s voice dropped lower, quieter. “None of that matters to me.”

His fingers brushed against yours — barely a touch, but enough to make your heart race.

“Why?” you whispered.

Jeonghan exhaled shakily, like he’d been holding it in for too long.

“Because I’m tired of pretending,” he murmured. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. I care about you.”

The weight of his words hit you all at once. Your eyes searched his, finding nothing but quiet honesty.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you whispered.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Jeonghan’s thumb traced the back of your hand, a soft gesture that lingered longer than it should have. “Just… don’t push me away this time.”

And for once, you didn’t.

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“I cannot believe this,” Seungkwan gasped, pacing the room. “He really just — in front of everyone?!”

“He grabbed her hand, hyung!” Mingyu grinned like he’d just won the lottery. “No more rumors — this is officially real.”

Jeonghan groaned from his spot on the couch, tugging his hoodie over his face. “I’m never showing my face in public again.”

Joshua chuckled, patting Jeonghan’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. If the fans didn’t think you were in love before… they definitely do now.”

From under the hoodie, Jeonghan’s muffled voice muttered:

“…totally worth it.”

The headlines didn’t waste time.

"Jeonghan’s Public Outburst — What’s Really Going On?" "Jeonghan Caught Holding Hands with Rumored Girlfriend — Dating Confirmed?" "Fans Divided Over Jeonghan’s Growing Attachment."

Your social media had become impossible to manage. Some fans flooded your posts with hearts and encouragement — others weren’t as kind. The comments were brutal.

"What did she even do to deserve this?" "She’s clearly manipulating him." "Jeonghan’s ruining his career over some nobody."

You were exhausted — mind clouded with anxiety, heart caught between frustration and confusion.

At the Practice Room

You pressed your forehead against the mirror, eyes closed tightly. The tension in your chest wouldn’t go away — like a constant knot that refused to loosen.

“Deep breaths,” you whispered to yourself. “You’re fine. You’re—”

“You’re not fine.”

Your eyes snapped open.

Jeonghan stood in the doorway, arms crossed, gaze locked firmly on you.

“You’ve been ignoring my texts,” he said quietly.

“I’ve been busy,” you muttered.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Jeonghan corrected.

You let out a heavy sigh, turning back to your reflection. “It’s easier that way.”

“Easier?” His voice rose slightly. “You think ignoring this — ignoring me — is gonna make things better?”

“I think dragging you into this any more than I already have is a bad idea,” you shot back. “The fans hate me. Your company’s probably furious with you. And for what? Because you can’t stop defending me?”

“Because I care about you!”

The room went silent.

“I care about you,” Jeonghan repeated, his voice softer now. “And I don’t regret standing up for you — not for a second.”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “Jeonghan… you can’t keep putting yourself in the middle of this.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” he said firmly. “I chose this.”

His eyes softened, and for the first time in days, you let yourself really look at him. The way exhaustion weighed on his features… the way he still stood there, unwavering, like no amount of public backlash could change his mind.

“Why?” you asked quietly.

“Because…” Jeonghan took a careful step closer. “Because when all this started, I thought I was just protecting you. But somewhere along the way… I stopped pretending.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I don’t care what they say,” Jeonghan murmured. “I don’t care what the media writes or what strangers on the internet think they know about me. All I know is…”

He paused, gaze locking with yours.

“All I know is that I’m falling for you,” he whispered. “And nothing else matters.”

The air between you felt heavy — thick with unsaid words and emotions too overwhelming to ignore.

“Jeonghan…”

“I mean it,” he said softly. “But if you tell me to back off, I will.” His fingers curled at his sides, like he was forcing himself not to reach for you. “If you don’t want this — if you don’t want me — just say the word.”

You opened your mouth to speak… but the words wouldn’t come. Because the truth — the one you’d been burying under fear and self-doubt — was that you wanted him, too.

“I don’t want you to back off,” you whispered.

Jeonghan’s breath caught. “You don’t?”

You shook your head, voice trembling. “I just… I didn’t think you really meant it.”

“I do,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I really, really do.”

And this time, when his fingers brushed yours, you didn’t pull away.

Later That Evening — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“You what?!” Seungkwan practically shrieked, nearly knocking over his drink.

“You heard me,” Jeonghan muttered from his spot on the couch, face half-buried in a pillow.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Mingyu held up his hands like he needed to process it all. “So you confessed — and she didn’t reject you?”

“Nope,” Joshua grinned. “She didn’t.”

“Which means…” Seungkwan’s eyes widened. “You two are, like… together now?”

“I don’t know!” Jeonghan groaned. “I think so?”

“Oh my God,” Seungkwan gasped dramatically. “Our Jeonghan… in an actual relationship?!”

“I give it three days before you start acting disgustingly cute,” Mingyu teased.

“Don’t be jealous,” Jeonghan smirked from behind his pillow.

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Mingyu shot back. “I’m just glad I don’t have to hear you whine about your crush anymore.”

Seungkwan flopped beside Jeonghan with a smug grin. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep you two humble.”

“Please don’t.”

“No promises.”

The call from your company came faster than you expected.

“You need to stop seeing Jeonghan.”

Your manager’s voice was firm — no room for argument.

“This scandal isn’t dying down,” they continued. “And now that Jeonghan’s gotten involved? Fans are turning on both of you. If you don’t cut ties soon, this could hurt your group’s comeback — not to mention your career.”

You swallowed hard, fingers curling tightly around your phone. “So you’re telling me to pretend he doesn’t exist?”

“I’m telling you to protect yourself.”

Meanwhile — At SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“You want me to what?” Jeonghan’s voice was sharp — a rare crack in his usual calm.

“Take a step back,” the manager warned. “Pledis doesn’t want this blowing up any more than it already has.”

“So I’m just supposed to ignore her?” Jeonghan’s voice rose. “Like none of this ever happened?”

“You’re risking the group’s reputation,” the manager said firmly. “If you care about her as much as you claim… you’ll leave her alone before this gets worse.”

Days Later — Practice Room

You stared blankly at the mirror, eyes glassy. The weight of your manager’s warning had been gnawing at you for days.

“...if you care about him, you’ll stay away.”

The words haunted you.

And so, you kept your distance. No texts. No calls. No lingering glances when you knew Jeonghan was nearby.

It hurt — more than you wanted to admit.

“Y/N…”

You flinched at the sound of his voice. Turning slowly, you found Jeonghan standing at the doorway — eyes dark, face tense.

“You’re ignoring me,” he said quietly.

“I’m just… busy,” you mumbled.

“That’s not true,” he said firmly. “You’re avoiding me.”

“Jeonghan, I—”

“Don’t.” His voice cracked slightly. “Don’t push me away.”

“It’s not that simple,” you whispered.

“It is that simple,” Jeonghan insisted. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I know what they’re telling you — I know what they’re saying about me, too.” His hand reached for yours, fingers barely brushing your wrist. “But none of that matters. Not if we—”

“It does matter,” you cut in, voice trembling. “If we keep this up, you’re going to get hurt. Your group — your career — I can’t be the reason you lose all of that.”

“You’re not,” Jeonghan said fiercely. “This isn’t just some passing scandal. This is us. And I’m not letting anyone tell me I can’t have that.”

Your breath caught as he stepped closer — so close you could feel his warmth.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same,” he murmured. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll walk away.”

You swallowed hard, willing yourself to say it — to end this before it spiraled even more out of control.

But the words wouldn’t come.

“I can’t,” you whispered instead.

Jeonghan’s shoulders dropped with relief. Without warning, his hand slid up to cup your face — thumb brushing your cheek so gently it made your heart ache.

“I don’t care what they say,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“So…” Seungkwan perched on the arm of the couch, grinning like he knew something.

Jeonghan sighed. “What?”

“You did meet up with her, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please.” Mingyu flopped beside him. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot since you walked in.”

“Yeah,” Hoshi chimed in. “And you’re still wearing her bracelet.”

Jeonghan’s eyes widened. He glanced down at his wrist — the small braided bracelet Y/N had given him months ago.

“…oops.”

Seungkwan gasped dramatically. “Oh my God. You’re not even trying to be subtle anymore.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Joshua grinned from the kitchen. “Jeonghan’s finally gone soft.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “I’m not soft.”

“Sure,” Mingyu smirked. “Tell that to the smile you’re trying to hide.”

Jeonghan’s face burned, but he couldn’t bring himself to wipe the grin off his face.

The article dropped like a bomb.

"Jeonghan’s Secret Romance — How Long Have They Really Been Together?" "Insider Reveals Y/N’s History of Using Connections for Fame." "Did Y/N’s Group’s Success Depend on Jeonghan’s Influence?"

The accusations weren’t just cruel — they were personal. The article painted you as manipulative — someone who clung to Jeonghan to boost your career.

Fans flooded social media. Some defended you, but the louder voices were full of anger.

"She’s been leeching off SEVENTEEN’s popularity this whole time." "I knew she wasn’t genuine. Poor Jeonghan." "I hope Pledis makes him end this soon — she’s ruining him."

It was suffocating.

At Your Dorm

“Just stay offline,” your manager urged, pacing the room. “We’ll issue a statement — deny everything.”

“It won’t matter,” you muttered. “They’ve already decided I’m the villain.”

Your voice broke at the end, and your manager softened. “This will pass,” they promised. “People forget these things quickly.”

But you weren’t convinced.

Meanwhile — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

Jeonghan’s phone buzzed nonstop. His inbox was overflowing — texts from worried staff, Pledis representatives warning him to “avoid further controversy,” and comments that cut deeper than he expected.

"I never thought Jeonghan would fall for someone so desperate." "He deserves better." "I can’t believe he’s risking everything for her."

“You okay?” Joshua’s voice was soft.

Jeonghan let out a bitter laugh. “No.”

“You should talk to her,” Joshua said.

“I don’t know if I should,” Jeonghan mumbled. “What if I make things worse?”

“You think ignoring her will make things better?” Joshua shook his head. “She’s hurting, Jeonghan. And you’re the only one who can fix that.”

Later That Night — Outside Your Dorm

The knock at your door startled you.

“Y/N…” Jeonghan’s voice was quiet, barely audible through the door.

You wiped your eyes and opened it. He stood there — hair tousled, eyes heavy with concern.

“Can I come in?”

You hesitated but stepped aside.

“I saw the article,” he said softly. “I know what they’re saying, and I…” He paused, like he was trying to find the right words. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you murmured. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is, though.” Jeonghan’s voice hardened. “They’re attacking you because of me. And if I had just —”

“Stop,” you cut in. “I’m tired of pretending this is just your fight. It’s our fight, Jeonghan. And I’m scared.”

Your voice cracked, and Jeonghan’s face softened.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

For a moment, you just stood there — hearts racing, words unspoken.

Then Jeonghan reached out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek. His fingers lingered, warm and comforting.

“I don’t care what they say,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You should,” you whispered. “You should let me go before this gets worse.”

“I can’t,” Jeonghan said, his voice breaking. “I don’t want to.”

The weight of his words hit you like a tidal wave — all the worry, the pain, the longing you’d tried so hard to bury.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in — and Jeonghan was already there, meeting you halfway.

His lips pressed softly against yours — tentative at first, like he was still giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Your fingers tangled in his hoodie, holding him closer as the tension finally broke — weeks of fear and frustration melting into something warmer, something real.

When you finally parted, Jeonghan’s forehead rested against yours, breath shaky.

“We’ll get through this,” he murmured. “Together.”

The Next Day — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“You WHAT?!” Seungkwan’s scream practically shook the walls.

“You kissed her?” Mingyu grinned like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Finally!” Hoshi cheered. “I thought I was gonna have to lock you two in a room together.”

“Please don’t,” Jeonghan muttered, sinking into the couch.

“Too late,” Seungkwan declared dramatically. “I knew this was happening — it was only a matter of time!”

“I’ll admit,” Joshua added with a smile, “I’m impressed you managed to last this long.”

Jeonghan sighed, face buried in his hands. “I hate you all.”

“No, you don’t,” Mingyu teased. “You’re too busy being in love.”

Jeonghan groaned loudly — but deep down, he knew they were right.

The photo spread like wildfire.

Blurry yet unmistakable — you and Jeonghan standing outside your dorm, his hand on your face, your head leaning against his chest. The dim streetlight barely masked the intimacy of the moment.

"Jeonghan and Y/N — Secret Late-Night Meeting CONFIRMED!" "Rumors Were True All Along?" "Fans Furious Over Jeonghan’s Lies."

The backlash hit immediately.

"I can’t believe he lied to us." "So they’ve been sneaking around this whole time?" "He’s throwing away SEVENTEEN’s hard work for her?"

Your heart sank reading the comments — each one sharper than the last.

“You need to deny it.”

Your manager’s voice was cold and clipped. “Your group’s comeback is weeks away, and if you don’t fix this now, they’ll blacklist you from promotions.”

“I can’t just—”

“You can,” they interrupted. “And you will. Unless you want to lose everything you’ve worked for.”

Their words hit hard. You thought about your group — the years spent training together, the exhausting schedules, the moments you’d fought so hard to earn your place in the industry.

Were you willing to risk all of that… for him?

Meanwhile — At SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“They want me to lie,” Jeonghan muttered, voice low. “Say it was a misunderstanding. Say we’re just friends.”

“Are you gonna?” Joshua asked gently.

Jeonghan shook his head. “I can’t.” His fingers clenched tightly around his phone. “I’m not letting her take the fall for this. Not alone.”

“You’re really serious about her,” Joshua said softly.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” Jeonghan admitted.

Later That Evening — Outside Your Dorm

You opened the door to find Jeonghan standing there — hair damp from the rain, eyes sharp with determination.

“Jeonghan…”

“I know what they’re asking you to do,” he said quickly. “I know they’re telling you to end this — to act like none of this ever happened.”

You swallowed hard. “They said I’ll lose everything if I don’t.”

“And if you do?” Jeonghan’s gaze softened. “You’ll lose me.”

Your breath caught.

“I don’t want you to choose between me and your career,” Jeonghan said carefully. “But I need you to know… I’m not hiding this anymore.”

“What?”

“I’m going public.” His voice was firm. “If they want someone to blame, they can blame me. If they want someone to drag through the mud, I’ll take it. But I’m not letting them tear you down for this.”

“You can’t,” you whispered. “You’ll ruin your career—”

“I don’t care.”

His hand reached for yours, fingers curling tightly around your own.

“I love you,” Jeonghan said softly. “And I’d rather face the whole world knowing I chose you… than lose you trying to save my reputation.”

For a moment, all you could do was stare — stunned, overwhelmed, and hopelessly in love.

“Jeonghan…” your voice shook. “I love you, too.”

His eyes lit up — like hearing those words made everything else disappear.

“Then let’s fight this,” he whispered. “Together.”

The Next Day — SEVENTEEN’s Press Conference

The room buzzed with reporters, cameras flashing from every angle. The members sat in a neat row, tension thick in the air.

Jeonghan’s mic clicked on.

“I know there’s been a lot of talk about me recently,” he began, voice calm but steady. “So I want to be honest — with my fans, with my members, and with everyone else watching.”

He paused, exhaling slowly.

“Y/N and I… we’re together.”

The room exploded with noise — reporters shouting questions, camera shutters clicking furiously.

“But I need to say this,” Jeonghan continued firmly. “Y/N isn’t to blame for this. If anyone deserves criticism, it’s me. I’m the one who pursued her, I’m the one who refused to let her walk away. So if you’re angry… be angry with me.”

He glanced down at his members, who — to his surprise — were smiling.

“Yah,” Seungkwan muttered loudly enough for the mic to catch. “We told you to confess to her months ago.”

The room erupted in startled laughter.

“Yeah,” Mingyu added, grinning. “Took you long enough, hyung.”

The tension lifted — even if just slightly — and Jeonghan felt his chest unclench for the first time in weeks.

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“I still can’t believe you actually did it,” you said, resting your head against Jeonghan’s shoulder.

“Me neither,” Jeonghan admitted, fingers threading through your hair. “But I’d do it again if it means I get to keep you.”

“You know they’re still talking about us, right?”

“Let them talk,” Jeonghan said quietly. “As long as I’ve got you… I don’t care what they say.”

His lips brushed your forehead, lingering long enough for you to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “Not now… not ever.”

The air inside Pledis felt suffocating.

“You can’t be this reckless, Jeonghan.” The manager’s voice was tight with frustration. “You might think this is romantic, but SEVENTEEN’s comeback is in two weeks. The media’s still focused on this scandal, and it’s dragging the group down.”

“I’ll take the blame,” Jeonghan said firmly. “Leave the others out of it.”

“That’s not how this works,” the manager snapped. “You’re part of SEVENTEEN. Everything you do reflects on them.”

Jeonghan clenched his fists. “So what? You want me to apologize for loving someone?”

“I want you to be smart about this,” the manager shot back. “For now, you’re off the next few promotions. The group can handle it without you.”

Jeonghan’s stomach dropped.

“You’re pulling me from the comeback?”

“No.” The manager’s tone softened. “But until this dies down… lay low.”

Meanwhile — At Your Company

“You won’t be joining the group’s next variety appearance,” your manager informed you bluntly.

“What?!”

“It’s better this way,” they added quickly. “The more you’re seen right now, the worse things get for your group. We can’t risk that.”

“But this isn’t just about me,” you said, voice shaking. “I worked just as hard as the others—”

“And you’re risking all of it because of this relationship,” they cut in. “You need to understand… if you keep this up, you won’t just lose your career. You’ll drag your members down with you.”

Your stomach twisted painfully.

Two Days Later — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

Jeonghan sat on the floor, knees drawn to his chest, as Mingyu quietly placed a can of soda beside him.

“Hyung…” Mingyu began softly.

“I’m fine,” Jeonghan muttered.

“You’re not fine,” Mingyu shot back. “You’ve barely spoken since Pledis pulled you from promotions.”

Jeonghan let out a bitter laugh. “What’s the point? I’ve already messed everything up.”

“You didn’t mess things up,” Seungkwan cut in, appearing in the doorway. “But you are being dramatic.”

Jeonghan shot him a tired glare.

“I’m serious,” Seungkwan said, plopping down beside him. “We’re a team — one stupid scandal isn’t going to ruin SEVENTEEN.”

“But what about her?” Jeonghan’s voice faltered. “Her company’s freezing her out. If she loses everything because of me…”

“Then stop sulking and do something about it,” Hoshi said, suddenly popping his head into the room.

“Like what?”

Hoshi grinned. “Leave that to us.”

The Next Day — Social Media Buzzes

"OMG SEVENTEEN’s Seungkwan just posted a hilarious dance cover — he’s in a full dinosaur costume!" "Mingyu’s live? Why is he making pancakes… at midnight?" "Hoshi’s teaching choreography on TikTok and... failing miserably?!"

Fans were confused — but entertained. SEVENTEEN’s chaotic antics became an instant distraction, drawing focus away from Jeonghan’s scandal.

Later That Night — Quiet Streets

The hashtags shifted.

#JeonghanScandal → #SeventeenDinoDance

#BoycottY/N → #MingyuPancakeKing

You barely recognized Jeonghan with his cap pulled low and mask covering most of his face. He stood just beyond the streetlamp’s glow, waiting for you.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come,” you said softly, guilt weighing heavy on your heart.

“I needed to see you,” Jeonghan whispered. “I don’t care what they’re saying. I just… I had to know you’re okay.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I am.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jeonghan murmured, stepping closer. His hand reached for yours, fingers lacing tightly between your own. “I never wanted this for you.”

You shook your head. “You’re not the problem, Jeonghan. It’s… everything else. My group’s upset. My company’s turning its back on me. I feel like I’m losing everything I worked for.”

“You’re not losing me,” Jeonghan said quietly.

Tears welled in your eyes. “But what if that’s not enough?”

“It is enough,” he said firmly. “You’re enough.”

His arms slipped around you, pulling you close — warm and steady in a way that made the noise of the world seem distant.

“I love you,” he whispered into your hair. “And I’m not giving up on you — or us.”

“I love you, too,” you whispered back.

For the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe again.

The leaked recording hit social media like wildfire.

"Y/N’s agency planned her removal from the start?" "Insider reveals Y/N’s relationship was just an excuse to sideline her." "Did Y/N’s company sabotage her own career?"

The recording — muffled yet painfully clear — played over and over online.

“She’s too independent. Too popular. This scandal just makes it easier to push her back a little. It’s better if we let her fade quietly.”

Your heart sank when you heard it.

“They were planning to get rid of me,” you whispered.

Your manager’s voice echoed in your mind, cold and calculated. “This is better for everyone. The group will do fine without her.”

So all the late-night practices, the sleepless nights, the sacrifices you’d made for your career… had never been enough.

Meanwhile — At SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

Jeonghan stared at his phone screen, fingers clenched tightly around it.

“They’re using her,” he muttered. “All this hate... they planned it.”

“Hyung…” Joshua’s voice was calm, but worried. “You need to be careful.”

“They’re already blaming me,” Jeonghan said bitterly. “Rumors about a dating ban are everywhere.”

“You know Pledis,” Joshua said. “They’ll do whatever keeps the fans happy.”

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened. “I don’t care. If they think I’m giving up on her, they’re wrong.”

Later That Night — Your Dorm

You barely reacted when Jeonghan knocked on your door.

“I heard about the recording,” he said softly. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head. “I’m tired of fighting.”

Jeonghan’s hand reached for yours, fingers threading together.

“You can’t let them win,” he said firmly.

“I don’t know how to keep going,” you confessed. “My company’s turned against me. Fans still hate me. My group is…” Your voice broke. “I’m scared, Jeonghan. What if I end up with nothing?”

“You won’t,” Jeonghan said quietly. “Because you’ll still have me.”

His words hit you hard. The tears you’d been holding back spilled over.

“I don’t want you to lose everything because of me,” you choked out.

Jeonghan’s arms circled you tightly, holding you like you were something precious — something he refused to lose.

“I’d risk it all for you,” he whispered. “Every last bit of it.”

You pulled back, eyes searching his. “But what if—”

“I’m not letting go,” Jeonghan cut in, voice firm. “Not unless you tell me to.”

His fingers brushed your cheek, wiping away your tears.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’ll fight for you — as long as you’ll let me.”

In that moment, all the fear, all the pressure, all the noise seemed to fade.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

The Next Morning — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“We need something big,” Seungkwan declared, pacing the room like a man on a mission. “Something so distracting that no one’s talking about the scandal anymore.”

Mingyu’s face lit up. “What if we—”

“No,” Joshua interrupted. “No food fights. No pancake stunts. No chaos.”

“But—”

“Let’s go viral on purpose this time,” Seungkwan insisted.

“You mean… coordinated chaos?” Hoshi grinned.

“Exactly.”

Later That Day — Online

The internet didn’t know what hit it.

Mingyu live-streamed himself reading dramatic poetry while wearing sunglasses indoors. Seungkwan and Vernon posted a dance cover in dinosaur suits — with Dino chasing them in the background.

Then came Hoshi’s masterpiece — a staged “news interview” where he dramatically whispered into the camera:

“Breaking news: Jeonghan is still a menace to society. Please send thoughts and prayers.”

The hashtags shifted overnight.

The energy changed. Suddenly, people were laughing again — not at you, but with SEVENTEEN.

#BoycottY/N → #JeonghanMenace

#Y/NScandal → #DinoDanceChallenge

#JeonghanDatingScandal → #MingyuPoetryKing

A Few Days Later

You and Jeonghan sat side by side, his fingers gently tracing circles on the back of your hand.

“I think things are getting better,” you said softly.

“Because of those idiots,” Jeonghan chuckled.

You smiled — a real one this time.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” you admitted. “But… I’m glad you’re still here.”

Jeonghan turned toward you, his gaze softening.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “Not now… not ever.”

Then, with a smile so warm it made your heart skip a beat, he leaned in — pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead.

The message had been simple.

"Meet us at the practice room at 7 PM. Don’t be late."

You sighed, adjusting your mask as you entered Pledis. Lately, everything felt heavy — the constant whispers, the judgmental stares, the endless rumors. Even your own members seemed distant, their smiles feeling more forced than genuine.

So when Jeonghan’s text arrived, you didn’t think much of it. Maybe SEVENTEEN wanted to talk — or maybe they were just checking in. Either way, you didn’t expect much.

But the practice room was empty.

Confused, you noticed a small envelope taped to the mirror. Your name was scrawled across it in Jeonghan’s familiar handwriting.

“Follow the stars.”

Frowning, you stepped back into the hallway — only to see small glow-in-the-dark star stickers trailing along the floor.

The Performance

The stars led you to a different room — one of Pledis' larger rehearsal spaces. The lights were dim, but as soon as you stepped inside...

Music started playing.

"✨ Baby, baby, baby... ✨"

The soft, familiar tune of SEVENTEEN’s Adore U echoed through the room — and suddenly, Seungkwan burst through the door, dramatically clutching his chest like he was personally serenading you.

“I adore youuuu...” he sang loudly, spinning in slow motion as Vernon popped up beside him, striking an exaggerated pose.

Then came Hoshi — dancing like he was auditioning for Broadway. Joshua followed, holding a fake rose between his teeth. Dino dramatically slid across the floor as if this was some grand love confession.

It was ridiculous. It was chaotic.

And for the first time in days... you laughed.

“I know, I know... you're my angel...”

One by one, the members circled you — reaching out, pointing dramatically to you as the "star" of their performance. Jeonghan appeared last, grinning as he sang his part directly to you.

His gaze never left yours.

When the song ended, Mingyu shot you finger-hearts. “You’re welcome,” he teased.

“You guys are insane,” you laughed breathlessly.

“And you’re smiling again,” Jeonghan murmured beside you, voice softer now. “That’s all that matters.”

“Come with me,” Jeonghan said quietly.

You followed him upstairs, your fingers brushing his as you walked side by side. The rooftop was quiet — but breathtaking.

Fairy lights were strung across the railing, glowing softly against the evening sky. A blanket was spread out beneath a cluster of pillows, and a small box sat beside a flickering candle.

“You did all this?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Well… technically Mingyu nearly set the candles on fire, and Hoshi tried to hang the lights upside down,” Jeonghan chuckled. “But yeah... this was my idea.”

You sat down together, the soft hum of the city below filling the silence. For the first time in weeks, you felt calm — like the world outside couldn’t touch you here.

“I know things have been hard,” Jeonghan said quietly. “I hate that you’re carrying all this alone.”

“I just...” Your voice wavered. “I feel like I’m losing everything. My group, my career... I don’t even know if I belong here anymore.”

“You do belong here,” Jeonghan said firmly. He reached for the small box and placed it in your hand. “And you’ll never lose me.”

You opened the box — inside was a delicate silver bracelet, a tiny star charm dangling from the chain. Engraved on the charm were the words: "나의 별 (My Star)."

Your breath hitched. “Jeonghan…”

“You’ve always been my star,” he said softly. “Even when things feel dark... I just look for you, and somehow, I know I’ll be okay.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Jeonghan smiled — warm, soft, yours.

“I love you, too.”

He leaned in slowly, brushing your hair back before pressing his lips to your forehead. His lips lingered there, soft and steady, before moving to kiss you — gentle at first, but deepening as you melted into him.

For the first time in weeks, the noise of the world faded away — leaving only the warmth of Jeonghan’s arms and the quiet rhythm of his heart against yours.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jeonghan murmured against your lips. “I promise.”

And for the first time in a long while... you believed him.

The public’s reaction to the leaked voicemail felt like a storm finally shifting direction.

"I can’t believe Y/N’s company did this to her..." "She’s been working so hard, and they just threw her away??!" "#StayStrongY/N — you’ve got people who love you!!"

The tide was changing. Fans began flooding social media with messages of support. Edits of you smiling on stage resurfaced. Clips of Jeonghan sneaking glances at you during award shows went viral again — but this time, the captions were softer.

"He’s been in love with her all along... you can see it."

For the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe.

A Few Days Later — Outside a Café

The cold air nipped at your skin as you stepped outside, adjusting your mask. You’d been hesitant to go out lately, fearing judgment — but Jeonghan had encouraged you to step back into the world, even if just for a short walk.

“Excuse me…”

You froze. A soft, nervous voice called from behind you. Turning slowly, you saw a young girl — maybe fourteen — standing there, clutching her phone tightly.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I just… I saw you, and I—”

You braced yourself for the worst.

“I just… I wanted to say…” Her voice shook. “I believe in you. And... I think you’re really amazing.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“You… you do?”

She nodded quickly. “When I saw everything people were saying, I... I knew it wasn’t fair. You worked so hard, and you deserve to be happy.”

Tears threatened to spill, but you blinked them away.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “That… that means more than you know.”

The girl smiled, her eyes lighting up. “Oh! Wait!” She dug through her bag, pulling out a small letter — folded neatly, your name written across the front.

“I wrote this,” she said shyly. “Just in case I ever got to meet you.”

Before you could even respond, she gave you a quick bow and hurried off down the street.

You stood frozen, clutching the letter to your chest — warmth spreading through you for the first time in what felt like forever.

The Next Day — Jeonghan’s Interview

“Hyung, are you sure about this?” Seungkwan asked, shifting nervously.

Jeonghan adjusted his mic, his expression calm but determined. “I have to.”

The interviewer greeted him with a polite smile, but the tension in the room was undeniable.

“So, Jeonghan… there’s been a lot of talk about you and Y/N recently. Would you like to address the rumors?”

Jeonghan’s gaze didn’t waver. “I would.”

The room fell silent.

“I know a lot of people have opinions about this,” he began slowly. “And I get it — being an idol means people watch everything we do.” He paused, exhaling deeply. “But what hurts the most is how much Y/N’s suffered because of this.”

He looked directly at the camera now, voice stronger.

“She’s one of the hardest-working people I know,” Jeonghan said firmly. “She’s passionate, kind, and she’s given everything for her career. The hate she’s faced… it’s unfair.”

Jeonghan swallowed hard, his voice faltering for a moment.

“I care about her,” he continued softly. “A lot. And I’m not going to hide that.”

The interviewer’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting Jeonghan’s open confession.

“She’s been my friend, my biggest support... and the person I love,” Jeonghan finished. “If people want to blame me for that, fine. But please… stop hurting her.”

Hours Later — Online Reaction

"Jeonghan just openly confessed on live TV???" "I’m crying — he really said, 'She’s the person I love.' 💔" "This is the softest thing I’ve ever seen. #WeSupportJeonghan."

The hashtag #WeSupportJeonghan trended within hours. Support poured in from both SEVENTEEN’s and your fans.

For the first time in weeks, things felt... brighter.

Later That Evening — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“You’re a legend, hyung,” Mingyu declared dramatically, tossing a pillow in Jeonghan’s direction.

“You’re lucky Pledis didn’t kill you,” Seungkwan added. “But honestly… worth it.”

“I figured we should celebrate,” Hoshi chimed in, holding up his phone. “Going live in 3… 2…”

“Wait, what—” Jeonghan started.

But it was too late.

SEVENTEEN’s Live Stream

“HELLOOOOO!” Hoshi yelled into the camera. “We’re here to talk about the true hero of today — Jeonghan the Romantic King!”

Mingyu grabbed a hairbrush, singing dramatically into it. “Jeonghan and Y/N, sitting in a tree... K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“Hyung, confessing on live TV?” Seungkwan grinned. “We knew you were whipped, but this is a whole new level!”

“Enough, enough!” Jeonghan tried to grab Hoshi’s phone, but Mingyu tackled him before he could.

The comments flooded in instantly:

“OMG they’re so chaotic I can’t breathe.” “Mingyu STOP HAHAHA.” “I stan Jeonghan’s love story more than my own life.”

Amidst the chaos, Jeonghan finally gave up and laughed — a real, carefree laugh that echoed through the room.

And for the first time in what felt like forever… everything felt okay again.

The warmth from Jeonghan’s interview still lingered in your chest. His words — “She’s the person I love” — played in your mind like a song stuck on repeat.

For the first time in weeks, the world felt softer — less suffocating. Fans were rallying behind you, Jeonghan’s members were your biggest cheerleaders, and you finally felt like you could breathe again.

But the moment of peace didn’t last long.

Two Days Later — Meeting Room at Your Agency

Your manager’s face was stone-cold. The tension in the room felt suffocating as your company’s CEO folded his hands on the desk.

“You need to cut ties with Jeonghan,” he said flatly.

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said firmly. “This scandal isn’t over yet, and now Jeonghan’s confession has made you both an even bigger target.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “We’re giving you two options — either publicly deny your relationship… or we pull you from your upcoming comeback.”

Your breath hitched. “You’re threatening to take away everything I’ve worked for?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” your manager snapped. “It’s for your own good.”

Your own good?

“You mean for your good,” you shot back. “Because now people know you tried to sideline me.”

“Think carefully, Y/N,” the CEO warned. “Jeonghan’s career will survive this. But yours?” He shook his head. “You don’t have the same luxury.”

Later That Night — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

The moment Jeonghan opened the door, you fell into his arms.

“Hey, hey…” His voice softened as his arms wrapped around you tightly. “What’s wrong?”

You buried your face in his chest, the warmth of his embrace breaking the dam you’d tried so hard to hold together.

“They’re forcing me to break up with you,” you choked out. “Or they’ll pull me from my group’s comeback.”

Jeonghan’s arms stiffened. “What?”

“They’re giving me two choices — either I deny everything, or they ruin my career.”

Jeonghan pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. “We’ll fix this,” he promised. “I won’t let them hurt you like this.”

“But what if they—”

“I’m not losing you,” Jeonghan cut in, his voice firm. “Not after everything.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His thumbs brushed softly across your cheeks, and the quiet comfort of his presence made your heart ache.

“Whatever happens,” he whispered, “I’m with you. Always.”

The Next Morning — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“You’re telling me they’re threatening her?” Seungkwan’s voice rose an octave. “That’s insane!”

“Hyung, this is serious,” Joshua said, pacing the room. “If Y/N’s company doesn’t back down…”

“We’re not letting them win,” Jeonghan said firmly. “I’ll talk to Pledis if I have to.”

“And if they try to keep you quiet?” Joshua asked.

Jeonghan’s gaze hardened. “Then I’ll make sure the world knows exactly what they’re doing to her.”

“Hyung…” Seungkwan’s voice softened. “Are you sure? You’ve worked so hard to get here.”

“I know,” Jeonghan said quietly. “But she’s worth it.”

Later That Day — Social Media Erupts

Jeonghan’s next move wasn’t subtle.

@JeonghanOfficial "Love shouldn’t come with conditions. No one should have to choose between their career and their heart."

The post went viral in minutes.

“Is Jeonghan throwing shade at Y/N’s agency?” “He’s protecting her AGAIN I’M SOBBING.” “This man is fighting for her like it’s a K-drama.”

That Evening — Your Dorm

“Y/N.”

You froze when your manager stormed into your room, phone clutched tightly in his hand.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I didn’t—”

“Jeonghan’s post is everywhere,” he snapped. “Now you’re both trending, and we’re getting flooded with press inquiries.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” you shot back. “People are starting to see what you’re doing — and they’re not okay with it.”

Your manager’s expression twisted. “If you don’t fix this, you’re out.”

Hours Later — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm Rooftop

“I’m scared,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “What if I lose everything?”

“You won’t,” Jeonghan said softly, reaching for your hand.

“But if my company doesn’t back down…”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” Jeonghan said firmly. “You’re not alone in this.”

His fingers traced the bracelet he’d given you — the one engraved with 나의 별 (My Star).

“Remember what I told you?” he whispered. “You’re my star… no matter what happens, I’ll always find you.”

This time, when you leaned into him, you didn’t just feel comfort — you felt safe.

And for the first time in weeks, you believed that somehow… you’d both be okay.

The message came late at night.

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand, the screen lighting up with a notification from your manager.

"You are no longer a member of the group. The company will release an official statement in the morning."

You stared at the message for a long time, your fingers trembling as you gripped the phone.

It was over.

The group you’d poured your heart and soul into — years of sleepless nights, endless rehearsals, and sacrifices — all taken away because you refused to let your love be a scandal.

Your phone slipped from your hand as you pressed your palms over your face. The tears came quickly, silent but unstoppable.

The Next Morning

"I can’t believe Y/N’s company actually kicked her out!" "She’s been with them since DAY ONE — and this is how they treat her??" "#BringBackY/N is trending worldwide OMG."

Fans flooded social media. Within hours, hashtags like #JusticeForY/N, #BringBackY/N, and #WeSupportJeonghan dominated the trending list.

Clips of you performing on stage resurfaced — moments where you sang with unwavering passion, moments where you pushed through exhaustion just to stand alongside your group. Fans remembered everything.

"If Y/N isn’t part of the next comeback, I’m DONE supporting this company." "We’re not buying a single album unless they bring her back!"

The boycott movement spread like wildfire — fanbases from other groups even voiced their support.

At SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“Have you seen this?” Joshua’s voice broke the silence, phone in hand. “The fans are seriously threatening to boycott.”

“It’s working,” Seungkwan muttered, scrolling through his feed. “Her company’s getting destroyed online.”

Jeonghan exhaled shakily. “I should be happy,” he said softly. “But none of this matters if she’s still hurting.”

“She’ll get through this,” Joshua reassured him. “You’ll get through this... together.”

A Few Hours Later — At Your Apartment

The pounding at your door startled you.

“Y/N!” Jeonghan’s voice rang out. “Please — just let me in.”

You hesitated, wiping your face before opening the door. The moment he saw you, Jeonghan’s face softened.

“I heard…” His voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”

“I knew they’d do this,” you said quietly. “But it still... hurts.”

Jeonghan cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a tear. “Everyone’s fighting for you right now — your fans, other idols... everyone.”

“I know,” you whispered. “But I can’t go back.”

Jeonghan’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because…” Your voice trembled. “Even if they let me back in the group, I’d be walking back into the same toxic environment. They never treated me well, Jeonghan.” You swallowed hard. “I can’t go back to a place that made me feel like I didn’t belong.”

Jeonghan’s grip on you tightened — not out of frustration, but out of understanding.

“Then don’t,” he said softly. “You don’t owe them anything.”

“But the fans…” Your voice faltered. “I don’t want to let them down.”

“You’re not letting them down,” Jeonghan reassured you. “They’re fighting for you because they love you — not because they want you to suffer.”

His fingers found the bracelet on your wrist — the star charm shining softly in the light.

“You deserve better,” Jeonghan murmured. “And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

You felt yourself break down, falling into his chest as the weight of everything finally caught up with you. His arms held you tightly, like he was trying to piece you back together.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered into your hair. “For choosing yourself... for being strong.”

For the first time in weeks, you believed it.

Days Later — A Surprise Statement from SEVENTEEN

Jeonghan’s agency broke the silence with an unexpected announcement.

"Jeonghan will be stepping back from activities for the time being to support Y/N during this difficult time. We ask for your understanding."

The fans erupted with mixed emotions — some worried, others praising Jeonghan’s unwavering loyalty.

But the loudest voices? The ones demanding your former company be held accountable.

"This isn’t over until Y/N gets the respect she deserves." "Even if she doesn’t go back to the group — we’ll support her no matter what." "We’re with you, Y/N — always."

For the first time in weeks, the noise didn’t feel so loud anymore.

Instead, it felt like a chorus of voices — not shouting against you, but standing with you.

And when Jeonghan reached for your hand, his fingers lacing tightly with yours, you knew that somehow… you’d both make it through this.

The days following Jeonghan’s statement felt like a blur. Messages of love poured in from fans, old friends, and even strangers. Despite the warmth, a lingering emptiness clung to you — a hollow reminder of the career you’d spent years building, now gone.

You knew walking away from your group was the right decision, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Three Days Later — SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed at his phone screen.

“Hyung, what’s wrong?” Seungkwan asked, noticing the tension in his face.

“Look at this.” Jeonghan handed him the phone. An article was spreading online — an exclusive interview featuring a former idol from your company.

[EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW: Former Idol Speaks Out Against Agency’s Mistreatment]

"I saw it firsthand," the idol confessed. "They treated Y/N horribly behind the scenes — constantly blaming her if things went wrong. The managers pressured her to hide injuries and pushed her harder than anyone else."

"And after the dating scandal? They deliberately sabotaged her — cutting her lines, pulling her from promotions, and forcing her to take the blame for something she didn’t even do wrong."

"Y/N’s been through so much… and she didn’t deserve any of it."

Seungkwan’s eyes widened. “Wait… they cut her lines?”

“I knew they treated her badly,” Jeonghan muttered, “but this?”

“It’s not just her fans now,” Seungkwan said, scrolling through comments. “People are furious.”

"Y/N’s company better apologize — this is disgusting." "She was dealing with this and a dating scandal? She’s stronger than I’ll ever be." "#JusticeForY/N — we’re still here for you."

Later That Evening — Your Apartment

“Did you see the interview?” Jeonghan asked softly, sitting beside you on the couch.

You nodded. “I can’t believe they said all that. I thought... no one knew what was happening.”

“People know now,” Jeonghan said firmly. “And they’re fighting for you.”

You offered a small smile, but doubt lingered in your eyes. “It’s just… what am I supposed to do now?”

“You still love music,” Jeonghan said quietly. “I know you do.”

You sighed, fingers tracing the charm on your bracelet — the tiny star that had become your comfort.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“You don’t have to.”

Jeonghan smiled softly, reaching into his pocket. “Because I already figured that out for you.”

He handed you a folded piece of paper.

“What’s this?” you asked warily.

“Just… trust me,” he said with a grin.

The Next Day — Surprise at Pledis Studio

When Jeonghan brought you to Pledis, you felt your stomach twist.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you mumbled, anxiety creeping in.

“You can,” Jeonghan said firmly, squeezing your hand. “Just trust me.”

He led you to a practice room — but when the door opened, you froze.

Inside, SEVENTEEN’s members stood scattered across the room — some with instruments, others by microphones. Hoshi grinned from behind a speaker, while Woozi stood by the keyboard, adjusting sound levels.

“What… is this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Your new beginning,” Jeonghan said proudly.

“We’re helping you record a song,” Joshua explained, stepping forward. “Woozi’s been working on a track for you.”

“You’re… serious?” Your voice shook.

“Of course we are!” Hoshi beamed. “This is your comeback — your real one.”

“We believe in you,” Woozi added quietly. “And I know this won’t fix everything… but it’s a start.”

You blinked rapidly, overwhelmed. “I don’t know what to say…”

“Say yes,” Jeonghan said softly, his eyes warm and full of quiet encouragement.

And so you did.

Hours Later — Inside the Recording Booth

Your hands shook slightly as you put on the headphones. The melody started — soft, comforting, yet powerful.

Woozi’s voice came through the speaker. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and sang — quietly at first, then louder as the music swelled.

The emotions poured out — the hurt, the fear, the heartbreak... but also hope. A flicker of strength you didn’t know you still had.

When you finished, you turned to the glass where Jeonghan stood, watching proudly. He gave you a small thumbs-up — his smile warm and full of love.

For the first time in weeks… you felt like yourself again.

Two Weeks Later — Online Reaction

The song — “Unfinished Star” — was released quietly, but it didn’t take long for fans to find it.

"Y/N’s voice sounds even more powerful than before. I’m crying." "She’s back... stronger than ever." "We’ve been waiting for this, Y/N — we never stopped believing in you."

The overwhelming support washed over you, filling the void you once feared would never heal.

And as you scrolled through the comments, Jeonghan’s voice echoed in your mind:

"You’re my star... no matter what happens, I’ll always find you."

You smiled, clutching your phone tightly.

He had found you — and this time, you knew you weren’t shining alone.

The success of Unfinished Star took you by surprise.

In just a few days, the track had climbed the charts — not just because of SEVENTEEN’s involvement, but because fans believed in you. Their comments flooded every platform:

"Y/N’s voice has always been amazing — now the world’s finally listening." "Her emotions hit so hard… I’m so proud of her." "She doesn’t need her old group — she’s a star on her own."

But for every supportive message, there was still noise from your former company.

At Your Former Agency’s Office

“Are you sure we can spin this?” your former manager asked, pacing the room.

The CEO scowled, reading the latest headlines.

"Y/N’s Emotional Return Shines Brighter Than Ever!" "Ex-Idol’s Comeback Outshines Her Former Group’s Promotions."

“She’s gaining sympathy,” the CEO muttered. “And sympathy sells.”

“What if we… I don’t know… claim the song was ours?” your manager suggested.

The CEO’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll say we supported her from the start. Flip the narrative — make it sound like we encouraged her to pursue solo activities.”

“But that’s a lie,” your manager said cautiously.

The CEO smirked. “It doesn’t have to be true — it just has to look true.”

Later That Day — Online Statement from Your Former Agency

"We are proud to have supported Y/N throughout her journey. Her recent success is a reflection of the dedication we nurtured during her time in our company. We look forward to celebrating her continued achievements."

Your phone nearly slipped from your hands.

“They’re really trying to twist this?” you muttered under your breath.

Before you could even process the betrayal, your phone buzzed again — this time from Jeonghan.

At SEVENTEEN’s Dorm

“I can’t believe they’re doing this,” Jeonghan muttered angrily, pacing back and forth. “They’re acting like they didn’t kick you out!”

“I should just ignore it,” you said quietly, still processing the statement. “I don’t want to drag this out.”

“You don’t have to ignore it,” Joshua said firmly. “They’re taking credit for everything you did on your own.”

“Yeah,” Hoshi chimed in. “You deserve to speak up.”

Jeonghan stopped pacing, turning to you. “If you’re ready… we’ll help you.”

The Next Morning — Your Statement

With Jeonghan beside you, you started the live stream.

“I didn’t plan to say anything,” you began, your voice soft but steady. “But I can’t stay silent anymore.”

You took a deep breath, feeling Jeonghan’s quiet presence beside you.

“My former agency claims they supported me through this,” you said slowly. “But the truth is… they didn’t.”

Your fingers gripped the bracelet on your wrist — the star charm grounding you.

“They cut me from performances. They isolated me from my group. And when I refused to deny my relationship with Jeonghan, they forced me out completely.”

Pausing, you swallowed hard, feeling your emotions build.

“But despite everything… I’m still here. I’m still singing because of the people who believed in me — my fans, my friends… and Jeonghan.”

You turned to him briefly, and his warm smile gave you the courage to finish.

“I won’t let anyone rewrite my story,” you said firmly. “Because this is only the beginning.”

A Few Days Later — SEVENTEEN’s Concert

“Come with me,” Jeonghan said, tugging your hand as the concert neared its end.

“Wait, what?” you stammered. “Where are we—”

Before you could protest, you were backstage — and SEVENTEEN’s encore had just begun.

“We’ve got one more surprise,” Seungkwan announced, his voice echoing through the venue.

Your heart stopped as Jeonghan took your hand and led you on stage.

The crowd erupted in cheers — deafening, overwhelming, yet so full of love.

“Everyone!” Jeonghan shouted into his mic. “This star right here?” He turned to you with a smile. “She’s been through so much… but she never gave up.”

The cheers grew louder.

“You believed in her when no one else did,” Jeonghan continued. “And because of you… she’s back where she belongs.”

He gave your hand one final squeeze before stepping aside — motioning for you to take the mic.

The crowd went quiet.

And then… you sang.

Later That Night — Backstage

“You did it,” Jeonghan murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“We did it,” you corrected, smiling softly.

“You know…” Jeonghan smirked. “I still remember the first time I saw you on stage. I knew back then you were something special.”

“You’re just saying that,” you teased.

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “Back then… you were just my crush.” He leaned in closer, voice low. “But now? You’re the love of my life.”

The warmth in his eyes stole your breath away.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you more,” Jeonghan smiled, his fingers gently tracing the bracelet on your wrist.

“You’re still my star,” he murmured. “And no one’s ever going to dim your light again.”

[dollbrbie]

michael kaiser ʚ ɞ never getting rid of him

cw. bratz!reader , ex!kaiser , mentions of alcohol use , make up sex , rough sex , possessiveness

kaiser (do not reply) :

who’s that guy ur talking to??

1:02 am

kaiser (do not reply) :

don’t play w me yk i’ll come over and kick his ass

1:03 am

you roll your eyes at the texts that light up your phone screen. how unbelievably childish. kaiser has always been the type of guy that seems to believe you’re still his when you’re most definitely not. besides, you had been broken up for two months now, it was about time for the both of you to start moving on.

that’s why you found yourself talking to some guy at the club, drunk out of your mind, the one kaiser was conveniently also at. you wouldn’t even put it past him if he came only because he found out you were. he was a little crazy like that.

“yeah, but anyways as i was saying..”, you say, putting your phone on silent and back in your bag, smiling back up at the stranger.

you suddenly feel an arm snake around your waist, the hold way too familiar, “hey, baby.”, your ex boyfriend smiles, a hint of irritation in his eyes.

you scoff with an eye roll, “what do you want?”

“just wondering why this guy is talking to my girl is all.”, he shrugs nonchalantly, like he was really still your man.

“i’m not your fucking girl, kaiser.”

“uhh.. yeah i think i’ll head off.”, the guy you had previously been talking to says awkwardly, pulling a straight smile before wandering off into the crowd.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing? i was talking to him! you can’t just show up whenever you feel like.”, you yell against the loud music echoing through your ears.

“y’still my girl whether you like it or not. you think i’m gonna let these loser guys think they have a chance with you?”

“i’m not your girl for fuck sake!”, you yell in frustration, “we broke up, don’t you get it? we’re done.”

you sigh in pure frustration before attempting to storm off, kaiser’s hand quick to grab your wrist to prevent that, “alright, hold on, please. just hear me out.”

you turn around, looking at his defeated face, causing your heart to thump, “why should i, though? it’s not like you deserve it.”

“i know, baby. i know.”, he admits, pulling you closer, “but can’t we just talk?”, he adds, “cmon?”

“fine. where?”

“oh- fuck.”, you whimper out as you feel kaiser bottom out inside you, “baby, please.”

“yeah? what is it, beautiful? use your words.”

you knew this would happen. it always does whenever you and kaiser go to ‘talk things out’. you always end up underneath him, fucking you like he’s never fucked you before. i guess that was one good thing about this.

“too much-”

“nah.. you can take it baby, cmon.”, he coaxes, seeing the way your body squirmed, knowing you were close to reaching your peak.

kaiser knew you and your body too well. the way your legs would squirm and your back would arch when that knot of pleasure would build up in your stomach. the way your nails would claw his back and your legs refused to stay still when it was getting too much.

he knew you like the back of his hand and he knew exactly how to tip you over the edge.

and just like his predictions, you arch your back as you mewl out, “m’gonna cum..”

“already, baby?”, he asks through a breathy laugh to which you nod frantically, your legs wrapping around kaiser’s waist, your pleasure so close to tipping over.

“go on then, cum for me, pretty.”, he coaxes once more, your orgasm spilling over the edge and shooting down your body, your head thrown back against the pillow as your eyes screw shut and your legs tighten around your ex’s waist.

kaiser continues fucking you through your orgasm, your beautiful whines sending him over the edge as he overstimulates your pretty pussy, “what? y’think i’m done? i’ve not even come yet.”, he adds, “and we have a lot of making up to do, don’t we?”

he kisses away your tears of pleasure, smiling to himself as he has you exactly where he wants you. he let you have your time believing you were standing on business. but you had always been his and he certainly won’t be letting you escape from his grasp again.

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[theyluvjake]

our little secrets — lhs

© theyluvjake - all rights reserved, no permission to copy or post, this is my only account.

pt1 pt2 pt3 (make sure to read pt1 first if you havent!!)

Synopsis: cam boy heeseung. class president reader. the schools perfect student harbors a dirty secret, a dirty secret thats alot closer to her than she realizes. what happens when their paths cross? will they discover eachothers little secret?

MINORS DNI!

PAIRINGS - camboy!heeseung x innocent!reader

CONTENT - college au, smut & fluff with plot!! series, slow-burn, multiple chapters.

WORDCOUNT - 8k

WARNINGS - smut, this chapter doesn't have any sex (yet), just mutual / guided masturbation. caming, dirty talk, use of pet names (baby, doll, slut), praise & degradation, honestly hand kink. mentions of corruption kink. like last chapter, hee is a bit of a perv. but we like that <3

NOT PROOFREAD!

"ook.. so, what was that all about?" sunghoon sort of spoke underneath his breath. it was silent for a while amongst the group minus some of them taking sips of their drinks.

"she probably just... - had to pee! " sunoo blurtted out to fill the silence, only to make it fall silent again,

"ill go check on her-" yunjin was just about to turn to leave when heeseung stopped her.

"no, i can go check,"

his smile was soft and reassuring. yunjin was slightly taken aback as he volunteered, but her curiosity in whatever was going on with him and his new found interest in you, made her back down, silently agreeing by nodding her head.

maybe it was a bad friend mood sending a guy you didn't really know that well to check on you instead of her, but she just needed to see where it would go... y'know, for the plot.

heeseung swiftly made his way through the crowds of people heading straight to the guest bathroom,

*knocks* "um.. y/n are you okay?" fuck. wait what if its not even her in there?.. –

shit. why is he here?! the sound of his voice instantly sent your mind into a panicked spiral. - umm.. maybe i can just pretend im not in here and he will go away? yea! so you did, and you stayed silent.

"your friends just wanted to make sure you were okay... well and i wanted to talk to you."

he bit his lip, thinking he was probably just making whatever was going on worse. but he couldn't go back to the group without checking on you.

talk?? to me? why? this can't actually be happening right now. – y'know, maybe it's not him? maybe my thoughts are just all clouded... i'm just making up stuff..

— because there's no way. that would just be too insane.

you were full on in denial. it was unfortunately the only thing you realized you could do to get through the night. closing your eyes you took a deep breath before opening the door eyes instantly meeting the boys pretty doe eyed brown ones.

"um, sorry, yea i'm ok! just... had an eyelash in my eye.." you giggled nervously.

"ah, ok ok... i was worried it was something i said.." the corner of his lips tugged upwards as a small rush of relief washed over.

"is.. that what you wanted to talk to me about?"

"yea, well, and i wanted to still offer you that drink" he couldn't help but smirk as he noticed the light flush of pink painting your cheeks.

you paused for a second. "...well, the thing is i just don't really usually drink..."

"yea, and you usually don't go to parties." he chuckled.

he did make a good point. you didn't, so why would you draw the line at your new experiences now. one drink, that's all. it would be fine right?

"that's also true," you smiled, still feeling anxious, but now having a burning curiosity about him. "sure, i'll take one drink"

he nodded satisfied and before you could register anything, his hand moved to your lower back ever so slightly, just to guide the two of you back towards the kitchen.

the simple feeling of his hand just barely grazing, hovering, over your back was sending waves of electricity through your body.

"so, class prez, what are you doing out at a college party tonight?"

"oh.. um, well it was sort of yunjin and sunoo's idea. i wasn't super on board but... i was curious since i'd never been before."

"ah, i see. i was surprised to see you here." he chuckled, "well, i think everyone was" -

you were about to respond when his voice continued on,

"pleasant surprise though," he said ever-so casually.

you gulped down the knot in your throat and tried to steady your racing heartbeat, but thankfully, before you knew it, you reached the kitchen.

you nervously leaned against the counter while he poured the two of you some drinks before he went to pass you the cup. you hadn't yet looked down, hand reaching for the cup, "thank yo-" then you saw it. his hand.

his awfully familiar, perfectly veiny hand, that just so happened to have 2 identical silver rings on the exact fingers gamer.lhee also frequently had ones on.

you couldn't even finish your sentence before you mumbled something along the lines of 'you had to go', before embarrassingly turning around and completely sprinting away from him.

not long after your disappearing act with heeseung you stayed on the other side of the house, hidden behind yunjin and sunoo, before you managed to make a good enough excuse to leave.

—

after you had gotten home that night, you refused to even look at his page. although that was all your mind wanted to do, to end the burning question and just try and confirm or not confirm that it was him. but you couldn't. not when it felt so possible. not when you knew you had to be in class with him tomorrow.

you attempted to get as good of a night's rest as you could. but it wasn't much, not when you basically got home at 1 am, and weren't able to shut your brain off until around 3 before you could sleep. leaving you with approximately only 5 hours of sleep the next day.

in the morning, you got ready for class, your usual almost uniform-like attire. you just prayed you'd be able to make it through the day without anyone asking about you at the party last night. and above all, not running into heeseung.

you were so embarrassed, you honestly had no clue what you would be able to say to him. it's not like the two of you interacted much, anyways. so why would it be different? yea! it will be fine!

besides before the conversation you two had at the party, you weren't even aware you shared the same literature and physics class, meaning he probably typically sat far across the room from the spot you always sat in. so in theory, all you had to do was try and focus and not think about whether you could feel his eyes lingering on you or not.

however you did not plan for what you saw when you walked into your literature class. lee heeseung, already there, sitting in your chair. sure, there wasn't technically, 'assigned seats' but everyone in the class knew, you sat in that spot every single class.

karma. you weren't sure what for, but this had to be some kind of cruel form of karma. you stood in the doorway for a little too long, to where students now had to nudge past you to get inside the classroom. you were just trying to think of any possible way out of this interaction. but you couldn't avoid him forever. you took a deep breath, fully aware your cheeks had definitely started to turn pink, before walking over to your seat.

heeseung instantly looked up at you with a smirk painting his face, "what? i just figured I'd see how the class president's view of the classroom looks." he shrugged.

"well... now that you've tested it out, could i possibly have my seat back?"

"i don't know... now that i've tried it out, i realized how nice the view is... plus, i'm not doing that great in this class, i think maybe sitting closer will help me with my notes~"

"but-"

"well the seat right next to me is open, you should sit there. you don't mind if i just have yours for the day, right?"

he still wore the same playful smirk on his face, only leading to your face heating up more by the second. you briefly took a look around, at the room, and then the clock. noticing how it was only a couple minutes until the class was starting, and pretty much every empty seat had already filled except for the one next to heeseung.

you sighed and set your books down on the desk, and reluctantly took a seat next to him. before you could even appreciate the shared silence between you two for not even a minute,

"y'know, i didn't really expect you to be the type to ghost a guy mid-sentence."

you gulped and tried to come up with some better excuse but you had nothing.

"yea... um i'm really sorry about that, i don't usually do that or anything.."

he raised his eyebrows curious as to the actual reason to why you ran off, but he didn't push further, instead he chose to use it to tease you.

he chuckled lightly, "don't worry about it, you looked cute running away from me"

he said so matter-of-factly that your jaw almost dropped before you heard the professor speaking, causing the class to finally silence.

"ok class, everyone phones away"

the rest of class, you could barely focus. which was completely unlike you. you couldn't stop thinking about the words.. "pretty", "cute" replaying on loop in your head. as much as you wanted to just pay attention, you couldn't, not when he was only a couple feet away from you.

he easily took note of it too. subtly glancing over at your dazed, flustered expression throughout the entire class.

thankfully, the rest of the class no other words were exchanged. no more teasing or flirty remarks, you finally felt a bit of relief like that was the worst of what would come out of today. but heeseung, he had other plans, he was just starting. this was only your first of three shared classes of the day and his main goal was just to get your attention in every single one.

your next class, you got a break. and then it was on to the two last classes of the day, both of which you shared. economics, and physics.

when you got to your economics class, you took a look around, noticing he wasn't there yet. you quickly took your seat in your usual spot before yunjin joined on your left side.

"ugh, i am so tired," she whined to you,

"tell me about it..." you muttered underneath your breath. the class slowly filled as you chatted with your best friend for the remaining time before the class started. getting so distracted you forgot about heeseung. it wasn't until a little while into class, you heard a familiar voice whispering in your ear. your eyes went wide.

"hey, what page were we on again?"

heeseung. you had been so distracted you failed to even notice heeseung had came in and sat directly behind you.

you carefully turned your head just a little before realizing how close his face was to yours. "um-.. it's 32" you quickly whispered directing your attention back to the front of the room.

"thanks, pretty" he winked before leaning back into his own chair, smiling satisfied.

the heat instantly rose to your face upon hearing the familiar nickname again. the same one that ignited a visceral reaction within you that night at the party, due to the familiarity of the tone, the voice.

the remainder of the class, he continued making up excuses to teasingly lean over, whispering into your ear and your best friend was nothing short of intrigued.

as soon as the professor turned away from the class his lips were practically pressed up against your ear and you felt like you were going insane.

"hey, i missed that part, could i take a quick look at your notes?" he hummed quietly, face so close to yours you could feel his hot breath fanning your ear.

"s-sure, just.. quick" you muttered quietly afraid of being caught speaking while your professor was still mid-lecture.

you carefully passed your notebook over your shoulder, his hands taking it from yours, purposely brushing his fingers over yours in the process. - anxiously tapping the floor with your foot, waiting for him to give it back to you.

"are you almost done?" you slightly leaned to the side, whispering, as the professor had turned around and continued speaking, and you were anxious to have your notebook returned.

"yea, you want it back?" the boy smirked, not that you could see, but you could feel it through the smugness in his voice.

"say please~."

he cannot be serious. "what..?"

"just say please"

you sighed, ignoring the hammering of your heart against your chest.

"please?" you whispered, looking straight forward. but it was more than enough. right as the professor turned away for a brief second, he leaned over enough to place your notebook back onto your desk.

looking down, you quickly made yourself busy, continuing to take notes and try to stuff down all the emotions flowing through your body. that's when you noticed a tiny note written in the corner of your paper.

you look cute when you're blushing. ;)

and just like that you were sure your face was now completely red.

"hey are you okay?" yunjin leaned over noticing how red you were.

"yeah, i'm just hot.. it's a little hot in here" you muttered before removing your sweater.

thankfully the class was nearing the end, finally. as soon as the class was dismissed you quickly packed up your bag and grabbed yunjin's hand rushing the both of you out of the classroom.

"so... what the hell was heeseung doing all up in your space the whole class??"

"i don't know!"

"oh my god, that's why your face was red! you were blushing! do you have a crush on him?? since when?!"

"shut up!" you whispered trying to keep her from practically yelling about this in the hallway. "no! i don't, so since never."

"okayy well can't say the same for him..~" she giggled and you hit her arm.

"shut up. you're imagining stuff." you huffed before the both of you made it into your physics classroom.

this time you were determined to make sure he couldn't sit near you. quickly hopping into the seat next to jake and instructing yunjin to sit on your other side, before you also waved sunoo over, who had just come walking in the door to sit behind you. a sigh of relief left your mouth, seeing how all the seats in your close proximity had already been filled.

you hadn't even noticed heeseung walking in, and taking the seat across from yunjin.

"hey y/n!" jake smiled at you and your gaze lifted greeting him back with a friendly smile.

"hey jake!" - "how was the party last night? everyone was surprised to see you there, did you have fun?"

"oh yea, it was fun.. i guess, - not exactly my thing though." you chuckled quietly before continuing your friendly chit-chat with jake before the class eventually came to a start.

jake was easy to talk to. you two weren't exactly close, but closer than you and heeseung. jake was really good at physics. everyone knew that, so there were a few times he helped you out by offering a few quick study sessions after school at the library. so naturally the two of you did talk when it came to this class.

thankfully, the rest of this class went by smoothly. it was just about nearing the end before the professor announced you would be doing a partner assignment.

"so, pick someone to pair up with. this will be due next week, so please make sure to schedule some time outside of class to work on this with your partner. once you have chosen, before you leave today, just come write down your partnership!"

before you could think,

"hey, do you wanna be partners?" jake smiled, turning to you. and you almost sighed in relief. though yunjin, who had also turned to you, rolled her eyes.

"sure! honestly, i could use some extra help with this unit.. " you smiled to him before the two of you walked to the front of the class to write your names down.

none of which went un-noticed by heeseung. practically burning holes into his friends back. before he could stare any longer he got a backup plan in mind, turning to your best friend just before she had turned to sunoo. "hey, yunjin, do you wanna be partners?"

she was caught off guard at first but then she put 2 and 2 together figuring this was some effort to still get close to you. "sure" she smiled and sunoo rolled his eyes dramatically.

"ugh, i hate you both, you are both the worst." he pouted before turning to sunghoon, "sunghoon, do you have a partner?"

the boy pushed up his glasses before looking up "uh, no?"

"ok, now you do, come on," he said giving him almost no room to even argue before they both walked up to the front together as well.

after all of you had written down your partnerships you all exited the lecture hall agreeing to go to the library so you guys could plan what days you needed to get together to work on the assignment.

"y'know, why don't we all just get together at our house and we can all work together? heeseung was quick to suggest as soon as you all sat down.

"don't the three of you also share a dorm already?" he asked pointing to you yunjin and sunoo to which you all nodded.

"so, since jake, sunghoon, and i share a place and ours is bigger than a dorm, we should all just meet up together there." all of you looked around to see what everyone thought, and it was quickly agreed upon that that was a good idea.

not that you agreed necessarily, but you were quickly outnumbered, on top of that yunjin's enthusiasm was utterly confusing. you all agreed to meet up on friday to work on the assignment. all of you exchanging numbers before going on your separate ways.

—

the next few days rolled around and heeseung seemed to have let down on his teasing for a little bit, and thank god. because you were already stressed about friday the rest of the week. then, thursday came around. your phone dinged as you lay in your bed rolling around on your phone, seeing the notification pop up,

gamer.lhee is live now!

you hadn't even been on his page since the party last sunday. but you couldn't even deny how much you missed it without more time to think, you joined the stream.

you sat up feeling the heat rising to your face, he was fully clothed, the angle just showing his lap and his hands fidgeting with his rings while he chatted with those on the stream.

blushy.baby has entered the chat

"hi blushy.baby, welcome in~" he chuckled to himself, reading the username. oddly or maybe not, it reminded him of you. "cute username, reminded me of someone,"

who??

maybe he has a girlfriend?

maybe a crush?

the comments started rolling in, causing him to chuckle a bit more. "no, i don't have a girlfriend," he clarified, but carefully neglected the ones regarding if he had a crush or not. causing you to try and swallow the lump in your throat. intently watching between the screen and the chat room.

"blushy baby, joins but never talks~ is it because you're shy and blushy~?"

you felt the air get caught in your throat, hearing him single out your username. making your head spin, could he... know? fuck. no! i mean, it's probably not even lee heeseung. like you said, there's no way.

"it's okay, it's cute, i have a thing for cute shy girls." he hummed

blushy.baby: really?

"yes, something about.. about them, i don't know,.. maybe i have a corruption kink." he chuckled darkly before trailing off again ", proud of you for finally commenting something, baby. keep it up, yeah?"

and just like that you carefully squeezed your thighs together. fuck. it wasn't until now, when the comments were so direct, so personal, that you realized how much you loved hearing praises from him. if there was any way to keep you commenting, this was it.

blushy.baby: i will if you keep talking to me like that...

"oh yea?, you like being praised baby, hm? "

"- i was wondering what i should do for today's stream... maybe we can do some praising. maybe some guided masturbation? what do you pretty dolls think?"

the chat instantly sped up with enthusiasm and he chuckled at the eagerness.

"you're gonna be good for me, right?" he hummed his hand lightly grazing over his crotch area where you should start to see the outline of his boner growing.

"alright, now be a good girl for me and take off your pants first hm? dont worry ill follow along." he said as he carefully lifted his hips up in his chair before pulling down his pants leaving him in just his boxer briefs.

like you were put under some sort of trance, you set your phone down against your pillow before lifting your own hips and pulling down your pajama shorts leaving you in just your underwear.

"thats it, just like that," he hummed satisfied, and it almost felt like he could see you. like it was just you and him.

"okay, now leave your panties on, just touch outside for me, hm? just like this" his hand slowly started to stroke the outline of his hardened cock through the strained fabric of his boxers.

and you did the same, slipping your hand down cupping yourself, feeling the moistened material of your underwear clinging to your skin already. letting out a small helpless mutter.

"you're already wet for me arent you? dirty slut."

the sudden use of such degrading words, mixed with his still soft tone, and praises l make your hips shudder. you liked that too... really liked it.

"its ok though, b',cus you're my pretty little slut~, aren't you?" he cooed before letting a small deep chuckle breathe past his lips. he continued, painstakingly slowly stroking himself, the wet patch from his pre-cum leaking out now evident, only soaking you more as you stared at the screen and continued to palm yourself.

"ok lets get rid of these now too, they are in the way." he lifted his hips again just enough to slowly pull down his boxers simultaneously also pulling his shirt over his head. letting his big, stiff and hardened cock hit his stomach as it sprang out.

"look what you do to me.." he grabbed himself in his hand making sure the camera got a good angle of his angry red tip, leaking of pre-cum. "wish i could see what i do to you..." he hummed slowly starting to stroke himself.

on the other side of the screen you were practically drooling just at the sight. your hips needily rutting against your hand. before you too removed the last remaining of your clothes.

"go on, touch yourself." his voice was low and demanding. and it didn't take long for your fingers to slowly start circling your clit.

"mm, thats it baby" he hummed. "now, i want you to imagine its my fingers ok? not yours, mine touching you."

you gulped and closed your eyes doing just as he said and the second you let your imagination roam the better it felt. imagining what his large hands, long fingers would feel like all over you. having the precision that you lacked deeply.

"good girl." - "faster."

at this point, you could barely suppress the whines leaving your mouth, but fearing your roommates would hear you, you turned your head to the side muffling the sounds into the pillow as best you could.

"fuck, i wish i was inside you right now. wanna fuck your tight little cunt." he moaned lowly. and little did you know, the entire time he was thinking about you. about fucking you.

the dirtiness of the words made your brain start to feel weird and fuzzy. your pussy fluttered clenching helplessly around nothing. not even your fingers because still, you had yet to venture into doing anything other than stimulating your clit.

"fuck. im gonna cum. you wanna cum for me, hm baby?" his hand sped up the squelching sounds from the way he was fucking himself into his hand were pounding in your earbuds.

you mindlessly nodded your head as if he could see you, feeling the knot in your stomach building, you were so close.

"lets cum together, yeah? i wanna cum inside you." the sheer thought of that alone sent you flying over the edge the second the words left his lips.

and just like that he started to reach his high as well. imagining what it would feel like to stuff you full. "oh fuck, yes, im coming.." his moans got louder and you continued to rub messy circles on your clit as you rode out your high, your legs and hips shaking and squirming beneath your own touch.

your eyes fluttered open as you slowly started coming down from your immense high. seeing the lewd image on the screen, hee's hand still wrapped around his cock, messy, with cum dripping down everywhere.

"good girl, you did so good for me, pretty." he hummed sweetly. and in that moment you heard it again. not gamer.lhee, lee heeseung. 'pretty'.

it was him.

the sound rang in your ears all you could think about was what it would actually be like to actually be on the receiving end of those words. not through a screen. not to the thousands of others watching him. but to you and only you.

not long after that, the stream ended. leaving you with a world-wind of emotions. but it was already so late. you didn't have time or honestly even the capacity in your brain after all of that to think. you carefully cleaned yourself up before getting back into your bed and passing out almost immediately from exhaustion.

how the fuck. where you going to face him tomorrow.

—

the next morning when you finally woke up, you felt so nervous about the day that you felt physically sick. after the stream last night, it only strengthened your theory on whether or not gamer.lhee was lee heeseung.

you were almost sure of it. and there was no way you could face him today. but yet, you had to.

situation being what it is, you devised a plan, well. kinda. the plan basically entailed ignoring heeseungs presence at all costs. just focus on the project and jake. easy enough, right?

after the day of classes went by, you and your two best friends returned to your shared dorm to get ready before heading over to the boy's house.

"ok, what should we wear?" yunjin spoke almost excitedly as if you were going out to hang out with friends, not work on some boring assignment.

"um... i was gonna wear sweats? what is that not appropriate study attire?" you asked as you walked together through the dorm,

"no that's perfectly appropriate! that's what i was gonna wear too!" sunoo was quick to reassure you only to receive an elbow in the side from yunjin. "OW! what was that-" he rolled his eyes and clutched his side dramatically while giving him a face before continuing with you.

"like sweatshirt and sweatpants?"

"yes?"

"no."

"no?"

"no. how about sweats and a cropped baby tee? still cute but comfy!"

"what is up with you?? why do you care what i wear to work on a school project??" you quickly nipped back at her, unlike your usual demnor, but you were getting slightly irritated, confused as to what the reason for all of this was.

"ok seriously? y/n. heeseung has literally been flirting with you ever since the party, are you that clueless?? i saw all of it in class. plus pretty much all of his friends were eating you with their stares as well. and well, they are all hot. this is your chance!!"

"my chance for what exactly?" you questioned noticing the sudden warmth that had risen to your cheeks. quickly turning away as both of them followed into your room.

"like i don't know, a boyfriend, a sex friend? so many possibilities.." she giggled but not in the way that she was joking, in the way that she was completely and utterly serious. "and that means you admit it right? he was flirting with you!"

"you're crazy. and i don't know! ok! i don't know what's going on with him lately, he's being weird." you obviously were trying to deflect because you obviously couldn't believe let alone admit any of this yet.

"just trust me ok, ill be the best wing-woman, just let me help." she pleaded.

"no, not tonight i need to focus, i need to get a good grade on this project."

yunjin sighed dramatically. "ugh. fine, but you are wearing what i said. i won't interject anything, but the outfit I'm just gonna test a theory ok?"

"whatever.." you finally gave in, just hoping it would make her shut up, and it did. for now at least.

the three of you all got ready which didn't entail all that much since you were already coming from class. you changed into a pair of low-rise baggy grey sweats that pooled at your ankles and paired it with a basic white baby tee that was practically skin tight, just slightly cropped showing the tiniest bit of your stomach. leaving your hair down you fixed your already practically perfect curls, before touching up your flawless makeup.

"you guys ready?" you walked out into the living room finding sunoo, yunjin not far behind.

"yup!"

by the time you guys arrived at the boy's shared house, it was around 4:30pm. yunjin carefully knocked on the door and you anxiously shifted on your feet fidgeting with your school bag before the door was answered. it was jake. you sighed a little in relief.

"hey guys! come on in!" the fluffy-haired boy smiled and the three of you entered into the shared home.

"the guys are in the living room, it's pretty big so we figured we could all just work in there or if it's too loud we can split up around the house, i don't know whatever you guys think works we are cool with!"

jake smiled before leading you all to the living room, not before he got a nice look at you though. he hadn't really taken the time to notice how pretty you were. not until the party when everyone saw you outside of your school persona. but seeing you in his house, in daylight, in casual clothes you looked adorable.

once you reached the living room everyone started to greet each other slowly taking seats around. but as soon as you stepped foot in there you could feel a particularly heavy gaze set on you. heeseung.

you didn't even look at him but you knew it was him. and it was. he didn't even hold back the small lip bite as his eyes drank in your figure from top to bottom only to be brought back to reality when your best friend stepped in front of him.

there was a few other figures lingering around as well. it was jay and jungwon. i guess they didn't need a reason, this is their house but it felt a little strange before the two of them talked. just chatting and letting everyone know they were around if anyone needed help finding anything or food. it was clear though to most that they were just curious, as to what was going on, and more so who was in their house right now.

after everyone got sort of settled in different areas of the room, you and jake took a spot in the corner with some pillows on the floor and spread out your notes and textbooks. "so, did you look over any of the requirements yet?" jake spoke softly,

"oh, uh, no... not yet sorry.." your tone was quickly guilt-ridden and worried before jake was quick to reassure you.

"no, no problem at all, i already did so you didn't have to." he smiled, getting out the instructions given by your professor. "ill just give you a small run-down, and then we can work together on the rest, sound good?" you nodded.

"oh and let me know if im going too fast or you don't understand something, not that you won't... you are like the top student of the school. but just in case y'know,... i know physics isn't your favorite, so honestly, i don't mind doing most of the work!" he smiled reassuringly and for some reason it almost made you blush. you weren't sure exactly why, maybe because you two were finally in such close proximity alone together.

either way, what you hadn't noticed was how heeseung noticed. everything. his jaw was clenched starting holes into jake and you before yunjin brought him back to reality.

"ok, heeseung, could you stop eye-fucking y/n for at least like 5 seconds?"

"what?" heeseung looked back at her barely even acknowledging what she said.

"i agreed to be your partner, god knows why because i know you actually suck at this class, so come on please lets just get something done."

"oh yea... sure, sorry.." he sighed and redirected his focus to the papers infront of him.

about and hour and a half went by and everyone kept to themselves, or moreso, their partnerships. trying to get as much done as possible, before inevitably needing some sort of break.

"my brain hurts..." you whined slightly rubbing your temples. earning a small chuckle from jake.

"we make a pretty good team though, huh? look were almost done in one day!" he gestured down at your work proudly and heeseung overheard the whole thing, getting irritated he walked over to the two of you.

"hey y/n you okay?" your heart dropped hearing the framilar voice, slowly looking up to meet his face.

"oh yea... im fine" you muttered and jake looked up confused as well at the boys sudden approach.

"i just saw you rubbing your head, does it hurt? i have some tylenol if you need some,"

"oh shit, does it? i thought you were just joking around, let me go get some-" jake quickly went to stand up,

"no no!! im fine seriously, i think i just need some water and a snack or something, thats all!"

"say less," jake smiled getting up before offering his hand to help you off the ground aswell, earning a heavy eyeroll from heeseung.

"come on ill show you where we keep the best snacks" he smiled and gently brushed his hand across your lower back guiding you to the kitchen with him. a framilar feeling from when heeseung did the same exact thing to you at the party.

which heeseung instantly noticed and pissed him off even further.

"snacks? hell yea fuck this " sunghoon instantly stood up and so did the others everyone gravitating towards the kitchen for a small snack break.

heeseung followed closely behind the two of you, before he stopped biting his tongue, and decided he had enough of jakes hands on you.

heeseung swiftly came up behind jake,

"hey sim, pretty sure this project doesnt require such a hands-on approach." he glared before turning his direction towards you. jake just looked at his friend confused at the sudden passive aggressive comment.

"you good? you don't need jake to babysit you, right?" heeseung stepped between the two of you creating enough space between the two of you for his comfort. grabbing you a bottle of water from the fridge. "here, and let me know if your head gets worse and you need the tylenol, hm?"

heeseungs sudden attentiveness had your heart racing and your stomach fluttering. and the tension between him and jake was palpable now. you tried to make sure to maintain your composure (you weren't.)

because when you reached out to take the water bottle from his hand you instantly had flashbacks to last night. that hand, his hand, his voice, him. you nearly dropped it when the boy caught it and handed it to you again "careful there pretty, you sure you're okay? –" he leaned in subtly enough to where it wouldn't look suspicious. "or do i just make you nervous" he smirked quickly pulling back before casually taking a seat.

the others were all already sitting around the kitchen table, snacks in hand chatting and eating. You took a seat in the only empty chair, almost as if it was intentional, the only seat open was between both jake and heeseung. You reluctantly sat down anxiously sipping on your water, almost completely silent as the rest of the group chatted among themselves.

"wait, guys i have an idea.." yunjin suddenly speaks up and the misciclanious chatter quiets. "lets play a game... y'know, as a break while were here, - how about truth or dare?"

everyone looks around but it doesnt take but a couple seconds for everyone to agree. partially because all of you were so bored, but mostly because it gave everyone an excuse to procrastinate for a little while longer.

"i'm down" jake and sunghoon immediately responded in which heeseung followed.

"can we play too?" jay and jungwon walked up hearing the commotion from the kitchen.

"the more the merrier!" sunoo clapped his hands excitedly and you almost let your whole head fall on the counter hoping it would hit hard enough to knock you out.

"who wants to go first?"

"ill go!" jungwon quickly volunteered

"ok, truth or dare jungwon?" yunjin asks sitting up on her elbows.

"truth"

"If you had to survive the zombie apocalypse with one person in this room, who would it be?"

jungwon sighed as he looked around thinking deeply about his answer.

"shit... i dont know i feel like im probably fucked with all of you to be honest but, maybe jay or jake? I know jay can fight, and well jake is studying in healthcare so he could probably help keep me alive.."

"yess sirr!" jake chuckled and posed proudly while jay laughed, nodding.

"ok sure, but don't make it seem like i just go around beating people up won..."

the rest of the group went back and forth between some light hearted and casual truths + dares. heeseung, casually pulled out his phone, opening his twitter and deciding to tweet an update to his account as he frequently would. but it was weird,

at the exact same time he tweeted, your phone which was upside-down next to your arm buzzed. weird.

i mean obviously everyone gets notifications, he shouldn't have thought that much of it, but the timing was so perfect. he decided to send another one, and surely enough, your phone buzzed again. his eyebrows immedialty raised. no fucking way.

gamer.lhee: ??

he tweeted a third time, just a random series of question marks and right on time, your phone buzzed, a third and fourth time. and there you were, completely oblivious as to what was happening. too busy listening to the others playing the game to even notice your phone buzzing on the table.

he really had no way to prove it but he had to try. and the fact you were all playing truth or dare made it even easier. he quickly set his phone down and re-focused his attention to the rest of the group.

"ok, heeseung, you haven't gone yet, truth or dare" yunjin smirks and you can only pray to god she doesn't say anything stupid, but you know her.

"truth"

"who in this room would you trust the most with a secret?"

perfect.

"y/n." heeseung quickly and casually responds, to which his best friend gasp offenedly.

"dude are you serious, in a room full of your best friends??" jake scofs

heeseung shrugs, "i don't know, something just tells me that y/n is really good at keeping secrets."

you immediately turned your head, feeling your heartbeat quicken, so fast that it had you debating if you would go into cardiac arrest. why... how.. why would he,,.. why would he say that??? he can't know. how would he know.

you just looked up at him flustered and confused and he just shrugged again keeping the same smug smirk on his face. "am i wrong?" he asked but this time quiet and directed at you.

"ok my turn to ask!" sunoo shouted excitedly, seeing that the questions and dares were starting to pick up in the heat.

"y/n, truth or dare?"

your eyes widened like a warning towards sunoo instantly. what best friends they are. you were practically begging him with your look to go easy on you but you knew he wasn't.

you rubbed your temples trying to gauge which choice would be less lethal. truth, right?

"truth, i guess.."

"ok, when was the last time you thought about kissing someone..." he pauses briefly before finishing the question, "- in this room?"

your face said everything.

"oh?" sunghoon raised his eyebrows curiously as pretty much everyone in the room, except for 3 people seemed surprised. yunjin, sunoo, and heeseung. who wore a smug smirk on his face.

"oh? so, recently then?" sunoo teases further only causing your face to redden even more.

jake quickly also turned his attention to you, although he didn't want to make you even more embarrassed, so he said nothing. just sat in silence wondering who it could be. feeling a slight twinge of jealousy.

"n-no.." your voice quickly betrayed you as your words stumbled out in a stutter. "i don't, i mean, - i haven't thought about,.. kissing, anyone! , ever!"

"you are literally such a bad lair." yunjin scofs

jake quickly noticed how red your face was, and whilst heeseung was relishing in your flustered state, jake quickly took it into his hands to help his partner out of the situation.

"ok my turn, no one has asked me yet!" jake says to the group eyes starting to re-direct to the boys.

"ok, truth or dare jake" jay quickly replies

"dare"

"do your best impression of one of us"

jake carefully looks around before his eyes locked on his target for a second. jake proceeds to sassily cross his arms and roll his eyes hard, before giving jay a nasty side eye. collectively everyone started laughing

"sunoo." the group almost said in unison, as they continued laughing at jakes sassy impression of sunoo.

"hey!" sunoo snapped back but he couldn't even argue as it was completely accurate.

"ok, seriously though this was fun, we should get back to working now though," jake says while others boo and sigh

"hey i never said we couldn't continue this another time?" the rest of the group agreed and everyone went back into their spots in the living room.

everyone slowly got back into working on their projects and jake could tell your mind was elsewhere, so he without asking took on most of the work finishing up the project.

"hey y/n? can i ask you something?"

you turned quickly meeting the boys gaze,

"sure, what is it?" he paused for a minute before he asked you quietly, wanting to make sure no one overheard.

"is there something going on between you and heeseung?"

you eyes widened taken aback by jakes question,

"no, why..?" you quickly responded

"oh, i dont know, it just kinda seems like theres something going on between the two of you lately..."

"theres not! well.." you paused as you thought back to the night of the party. maybe he already told the guys what happened?

"well?"

"did he ever tell any of you what happened at the party?"

jake raised his eyebrows and shook his head, "no, did something happen between you two at the party?"

"no! well sorta... i just, he offered me a drink and i said yes and then i sorta.... ran away.."

you looked down fidgeting with your fingers. honestly you found jake easy to open up too. he was someone who was easy to talk to and instantly made anyone feel comfortable in his presence. so it wasnt hard to be truthful with him. it felt nice honestly.

its not like you couldn't talk to your best friends, its just that, you knew as soon as you did it would make it real. because they would encourage you, and you weren't exactly sure if thats what you wanted yet. with jake, he just was there to listen.

"why? - i mean, whyd you run away?"

"honestly... i dont know" you lied. obviously you couldn't tell him the full truth. you couldn't tell anyone.

"hey, well, if you ever need someone to talk to know that im around" he smiled warmly before playfully reaching over and ruffling your hair.

"i know yunjin and sunoo are great but its obvious they aren't always the most subtle people..." jake chuckled to which you did as well.

"yea, tell me about it."

"im here to listen, and i promise anything you tell me ill keep to myself." he smiled and you could tell he was being genuine.

"thanks jake" you smiled back warmly

"hey, at least we got the project done! no one else seemed to finished today. i bet we will get a 100%" he smiled bumping your arm and heeseung took note of the giggles and closeness clenching his jaw.

"you like her, dont you?"

heeseung snapped his head back to yunjin,

"is it that obvious?"

"hm, not really, well to me yea, but i dont think anyone else has noticed."

heeseung sighed as he admitted his feelings for the first time ever.

"good luck with that, she hasnt dated anyone since like middle school."

"so are you gonna help me out or what?"

"eh, maybe,– maybe if we get a good grade on this assignment."

heeseung sighs like hes doomed bc he knows whatever grade the both of them got on the project would be purely based off if yunjin knew what she was doing, because he did not.

"you are such an idiot, why do you think i agreed to be your partner when she partnered up with jake? its obvious that was the only reason you even asked me. "

"thanks," he smiled

"yea yea, whatever, u should probably hurry up, looks like jake thinks he has some sort of a chance too," she said and both of them shifted their direction to the two of you.

heeseung clenching his jaw as he saw the way jakes hand brushed over your arm.

"does she like him?" he asked gaze still fixated on the both of you.

"no idea, she doesnt talk about any of that, shes always so focused on school i havent heard anything about her having a crush in years."

the conversation slowly simmered out and heeseung got another idea as he saw you finally open your phone. he quickly pulled up his twitter account before tweeting again

gamer.lhee: "you watching me, angel?"

your face immediately turned red seeing the notification, clicking on it and seeing the previous ones. that's when it clicked. the whole time your ringer had been on. he was testing you. he knows.

you quickly stood up and excused yourself to the bathroom, something that was seeming to become a habit now. heeseung followed behind before his arms cornered you against the hallway wall.

"heeseung, what are you-"

he leaned in, dangerously close, lips almost brushing against your ear.

"do you also get this flustered when you watch me at night too?"

- tbc.

dont forget to reblog if you enjoyed it!!! <3 super helpful and appreciated!!

note: also feel free to comment and let me know what you thought of this chapter!! im open to hearing feedback and whatever you guys enjoyed so i can make the next one better!! ^.^ tysm for reading!! hopefully i didnt make too many errors lol..

taglist!: @yohanabanana @heebear @4eeseungz @wonniewonsblog @yangjungwonnie @eugenia29-blog1 @merwdusa @river-demon-slayer @planetmarlowe @woniesbae @ad1m4ise @allthesqueaks @yoonglestangies @clxodyvesprr @millis-diary @immelissaaa @penny44224 (lmk if you'd like to be added <3!)

[alpali]

pt 2 of oikawa being a dork in love

After your small declaration of a truce. Oikawa acts like he’s won nationals.

You’re still mean to him. Which confuses him to no end but you enjoy it. You’re not hateful like before it’s just teasing.

“So does this mean I can finally take you on a date?”

“Absolutely not.”

“But why!”

It’s routine that you guys eat lunch together at the same spot you made up.

“Ooo your food looks good lemme try it.”

Swat!

“Hey!” He clutches his hand with a pout and you purse your lips.

“Don’t touch.”

“I need this hand to play you know!”

“I barely even touched you.”

“Kiss it.” He grins.

“Ew no!”

He’s wounded.

Oikawa helps you out with your studies that you’re struggling with. Often hosting study dates, as he loves to call them.

“I’m tired.” You groan out, sprawling your arms across the table, your cheek squished against the table.

Oikawa smiles, moving a stray piece of your hair behind your ear.

“We can take a little break.” He doesn’t miss the way your cheeks redden.

His routine still hasn’t changed. He still visits you before class but now he always brings your favorite drink with him.

“Here ya go pretty girl.” He places the can on your desk, ruffling your hair.

“My hair!” You narrow your eyes.

“Sh, it’s okay you’re still beautiful, look.”

He has a habit of taking pictures of you. Not in a creepy way, they’re mostly off guard so he can get back at you with your teasing. But also just because you really are beautiful. He knows he’s made it when he finds photos that you took of yourself and even of him when he’s left his phone unattended. Sending them to you and saying.

“You got my bad side :,(. Do better next time.” 

It takes him awhile to convince you to actually come to his games.

“Come on please! Prelims are coming up. I need you there.”

“I don’t think I could enjoy it with all your girls there.”

“Is someone jealous~”

“Oh please. As if all your attention isn’t focused on me anyways.”

“That’s my girl.” A dumb smirk lacing his features.

However he isn’t aware when you actually do decide to show up. Iwaizumi is actually the first to notice and honestly he’s not really excited for the Oikawa he’s about to put up with. Yet he tells him nevertheless.

With a nudge Iwaizumi is gesturing to the stands and Oikawa looks up, his water bottle gripped in his hand. You sit there and the both of you lock eyes. He visibly lights up and blinks, not believing his eyes. You honestly weren’t expecting to have that much of an impact on him but you can tell just how much it really does mean to him.

“She came!” Oikawa gushes, smiling up at you as you send him a small smile.

Iwaizumi is a little surprised at just how much Oikawa adores you. Guess he lost that bet with Shigeru. He’s attacking more during this game which confuses his teammates a little but they take the set and secure the win with ease. Once he finds you in the hallway, he’s jogging up to you.

“You actually came.” He says out of amusement.

“Just thought I’d check it out.”

“So how was it, seeing me in my natural habitat.”

“Pretty impressive, sadly.”

“Hey! All of those points were for you!” He sulks and you giggle.

Oikawa flushes, a genuine smile on his face. Out of pure adrenaline and love he has for you he kisses your head, pulling you straight into his sturdy chest.

“Thank you. Really.” He whispers, holding you a little tighter. You flush in his arms, gripping the ends of his jersey.

After that, he’s more persistent than before. He starts asking to hangout whenever he has any kind of free time. He just wants to be in your presence.

He’s over the moon when you agree to play volleyball with him. He’s teaching you how to set and when your form is wonky. He comes up behind you, placing his hands over yours he adjusts them.

“Then you just wanna let the ball touch your hands.”

When you actually get a decent set in, he cheers.

“I think I just fell in love with you all over again.”

“Be quiet.”

“Never! My perfect little setter.”

After a couple months you finally agree to let him take you on a date and he’s spoiling the hell out of you. He insists the two of you get matching keychains.

When he’s walking you home he’s so corny it makes you wanna laugh. The way he subtly tries to grab your hand. He opts to holding your pinkie instead. However this act has him STRESSING. You reach your doorstep and it’s obvious he doesn’t want you to go.

“Thanks for tonight…Toru.”

He’s deceased.

“T-Toru?!”

“Don’t make it weird!” You both are flustered now.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You mutter but right before he steps away you plant a kiss on his cheek.

Hitting the nail on his coffin.

In a flash you’re gone, in the comfort of your house as he stands there recollecting what the hell just happened. His fingers slowly gracing his cheek as his whole world was just altered. He fist bumps the air, even skipping as he makes his way home.

“So are we gonna talk about yesterday?”

“no.”

“Will I be receiving more of those?”

“Depends, will you ask me out?”

“I think I’m gonna cry.”

“Never mind.”

“No wait! Come back!”

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝘚𝘏𝘈𝘛𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘌𝘋 𝘈𝘍𝘍𝘌𝘊𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕𝘚 - 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘛 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌

♥ Pairing: Mohawk!Mark Grayson x Reader | Sinister!Mark Grayson x Reader ♥ Warnings: Violence & Gore ♥ a/n: even though i put him in the pairings sinister mark doesn’t actually show up this chapter. if y’all haven’t noticed i’m pretty big on building lore so one scene can take a lot of time lolll. i think it adds to the depth of the story 🤌 → Part Two ←

It was a truly beautiful day; the sun’s rays unbroken by the clouds while a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves. Its serenity, however, was lost on M.Mark. A deep red liquid spattered across his face as the smell of sweat, blood, and fear permeated the alleyway he stood in. He could hear the sickening sound of bones cracking beneath his fists, but all that mattered was the rage—the fire burning deep in his chest. It was a fire that never truly went out, and right now it was fueled entirely by a raw jealousy.

“You really think you’re good enough for her, huh?” Mark’s voice was low, venomous, his words directed at no one in particular. His eyes were wild, pupils dilated with fury. He grabbed one of the men by the throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The guy's feet dangled, his hands flailing helplessly as Mark’s fingers dug into his windpipe.

The man’s eyes bulged in terror, but Mark barely registered it. He was thinking of you. You—smiling at that asshole, holding his hand, like you didn’t even notice the real love of your life existed at all. Like that Mark was the most important thing in the world.

“I protect people now, you know?” Mark spat, his voice tinged with bitterness, his grip tightening. “I save people. And for what? So some fucking idiot can waltz around thinking he’s good enough to have her?”

The guy gasped, clawing at Mark’s hand, but it was no use. Mark wasn’t even really seeing him anymore. His eyes were focused somewhere else, somewhere far away.

In his mind’s eye he saw you again—laughing with that bastard. His absolute idiot of a counterpart, who didn’t even see you like he did. You were a goddamn star in his world, and yet you gave that moron all your time, all of your love.

“It’s so fucked up,” Mark muttered. “She doesn’t see it. She doesn’t see me the way I see her.” He turned his head, eyes narrowing at the other man huddling against the wall, still alive, still shaking. “She should be with me, y’know? Not him. Damn sure not any of you. Me.”

He shook the man in his grip, his voice rising with every word. “I would do anything to make her happy. You hear me? Anything. But you—you’re just a distraction. You’re nothing. And you’re standing in the way.”

The guy’s breath came in strangled gasps, his hands no longer fighting against Mark’s iron grip. There was nothing he could do to escape. Mark’s voice became a growl.

“I mean,” Mark started again with a scoff, “What makes him so fucking special?”

The guy’s head lolled back, the panic already setting in. Mark could feel the pulse in the guy’s neck, feel him weakening, but he didn’t stop. Not yet. Not when his mind was screaming.

And then, in a desperate, broken voice, the second man spoke, his hands still raised in a futile gesture of surrender.

“Look... man... I don’t know who you’re talking about, but it sounds like she’s not yours. You gotta... you gotta let her go.” His voice cracked as he spoke, but there was something genuine in his tone—something only a human could convey. “Trust me, y-you can’t force someone to love you… You’re just gonna make it worse.”

A light seemed to spark in Mark’s eye, a strange stillness passing through him. His grip loosened slightly, the man’s feet scraping the pavement as he hung there, suspended, but not quite dead yet. Mark’s gaze flicked to the man on the ground, and for a second, he felt a pang of doubt—like maybe... maybe the guy had a point.

“Let her go?” Mark’s voice was quieter now, almost confused. He looked down at the guy, his anger still simmering beneath the surface but momentarily calmed. “What do you mean, let her go? I’d do anything for her. I deserve her. She deservesme. That ugly bastard shouldn’t get to have her.”

The man took a shaky breath, speaking faster now, his voice almost pleading. “I-I get it. I do. But no way this is gonna work man. You’re not gonna win her over by killing people. She sounds like a sweet girl. You’re just gonna end up—”

Mark’s eyes flashed with a new swelling rage and without warning he slammed the man into the wall, the sickening crack of the guy’s spine breaking echoing through the alley. The man's body went limp, falling into a grotesque, twisted heap at Mark’s feet.

Mark stood over him, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling not from exertion but pure emotion. For a moment, silence swallowed everything. The only sound left was the steady beat of his own heart.

The anger was still there. It hadn’t gone away. It was a beast, gnawing at the edges of his mind. But now there was something else too, something that felt... desperate. Something sharp, like a knife lodged deep in his gut.

Mark glanced down at the bodies around him. His fists were still clenched, his body tense with the aftershocks of the destruction. He should feel powerful—he should feel triumphant—but all he could hear were those words.

Let her go. Was there even possible? Could Mark really just let you go?

He looked back at the man he’d just killed, and then over to the other man who was now cowering in the fetal position in the corner. The sight made him grunt a small laugh. As if this weak loser knows anything. The fire inside him flared again. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be letting anything go.

In an instant he was kneeled in front of the man, his head framed by Mark’s hands. “Y’know you really give terrible advice.” With that final remark he brought his hands together, breaking through the man’s skull and plunging through viscera of his brain matter as if it were made of Styrofoam. He didn’t need advice, and definitely not from some low-level career bank robber that just died like an ant beneath his grasp.

No, Mark’s wasn’t even close to done yet. He just had to figure out his next step.

—

You let out a quiet sigh, watching the last of the visitors file out of the exhibit. The small group had been attentive, but now that they were gone, you could finally breathe a little easier. Being an aquarium keeper had its perks—mostly working with the animals, which you loved—but giving talks to crowds had always been a bit… awkward.

You glanced down at your watch, noting the time. Another hour until your shift ended. You could already feel the exhaustion setting in—nothing too bad, just the kind of tired that came with a long day of making sure everything was running smoothly. The fish were fed, the tanks cleaned, and you had managed to get through your spiel without flubbing too many lines.

It was then that you noticed him.

Mark, the one who’d abruptly showed up at your house the night prior, was standing across the room just at the edge of the exhibit. He wasn't a part of the group, which was odd. But what was even stranger was how still he was, how silently he observed everything. His gaze was fixed on the tanks, on the creatures swimming lazily inside, but there was something… unsettling about the way he stood. It was like he was studying something, but not in the way someone would look at fish. His posture was tense, his jaw clenched, and his eyes—his eyes seemed distant, like he was somewhere far beyond the walls of the aquarium.

You swallowed, a knot tightening in your stomach. Something about the way he was staring made you uneasy, but it wasn’t just that. There was a familiarity in the way he stood there, like he’d done this before. Like he'd watched from the shadows before and you just hadn’t noticed.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to approach him or let him be.

This Mark had always been… different. You didn’t know him well, but there were times when his presence felt like a storm cloud, looming just above your head. His moods were unpredictable, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was always simmering beneath the surface. And though you tried not to think about it too much, you'd never been able to forget the times he'd made comments that left you uneasy, or the way his eyes would sometimes linger on you just a little too long.

Today, though… he didn’t seem to notice you standing there, just a few feet away, watching him as he observed the sea life. His expression was almost unreadable—distant, cold—but there was an edge to it, a sharpness that made you hesitate even more.

Finally, curiosity won out. You took a few steps towards him, feeling your heart beat a little faster with each one.

“Mark?” you said softly, trying to catch his attention.

His head snapped up, and for a split second, you swore you saw a flash of something—anger, maybe?—in his eyes. But it was gone so quickly that you weren’t sure if you’d imagined it.

“Hey,” he said, his voice rougher sounding than your Marks. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

You shook your head, feeling a sudden rush of nerves flood through you. “It’s okay, no interruption. Just finishing up for the day.”

You both stood there for a moment in silence, the only sound coming from the gentle hum of the aquarium filters and the occasional splash from the tanks.

You took a step closer, unsure if you should say anything more. There was something in the air—something you couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t just the fact that he was here, now, standing in front of you, but it was the way he seemed to be studying you, his gaze never fully leaving your face. It wasn’t the look of someone admiring the work you did—it was more like someone trying to figure you out, to understand something about you that he couldn’t quite grasp.

“Mark,” you started again, clearing your throat, “are you… okay?”

He didn’t answer right away, just continued staring at you. His lips pressed together in a thin line, the tension in his shoulders unmistakable.

You felt your chest tighten. Something was wrong. You could feel it. He looked almost… unhinged, in a way you didn’t want to imagine.

“I’m fine,” he said, but the words were clipped, forced. His voice sounded flat, like he was trying to convince both you and himself at the same time.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his hands were clenched at his sides, the white-knuckled grip on his fists.

“I didn’t know you liked the aquarium,” you said, trying to break the tension. The words came out more out of instinct than any real desire to make conversation. But it worked—just a little. His gaze shifted back to the tanks.

“I don’t,” he muttered, almost under his breath. “I was just… passing through.”

Passing through an aquarium? You didn’t claim to be a detective, but that answer seemed a little suspicious.

“Right,” you said, trying to smile, though it felt strained. “Well, it’s nice to see you. If you want, I can show you around before my shift ends.”

You tried to sound casual, but your heart was pounding, and you could feel the unease creeping into your voice. Something wasn’t right, and you weren’t sure if it was because of him or because of the strange feeling that had settled in your chest.

He didn’t respond at first, just looked at you with that unreadable expression. The silence stretched between you both, uncomfortable, thick with unspoken words.

Then, he shifted. His eyes flicked to the side, to the tanks, and his lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smirk. He opened his mouth to speak but then quickly snapped it shut, the earpiece buzzing in his head, "This isn't a holiday. You've got half the content to save." His expression quickly soured, the irritation evident on his face.

“Maybe another time,” he grumbled. “I’ve got somewhere I need to be...”

And just like that, as quickly as he’d appeared, he turned and started to walk away, disappearing into the shadows of the aquarium.

You stood there for a long moment, still feeling the weight of his gaze on you, even though he was no longer there.

And for some reason, you loved the feeling it gave you. You hadn't felt seen like that by Mark in longer than you could remember, and you relished the high it gave you.

→ Part Four ←

[sleepdeprivedfrfr]

your husband nanami never really had much to look forward to in his life rather than making enough money to retire and relax, until you came along. he has never failed to make you happy. you were his number one priority. the reason he worked such excruciating hours. all of pain and suffering that went into the money he made meant nothing if he couldn't spend every single penny towards your happiness. I mean the saying is 'happy wife happy life,' right?

except you've noticed how drained of life your husband was chasing money all the time, he would constantly come home exhausted from working over time. you would often find yourself massaging his tense shoulders while he's drifting off in your lap, still dressed in his work clothes. you began baking pastries and other sweets for him while at home because you felt bad for all the work he had been putting himself through,

"sweetheart, these are delicious, where did you learn how to bake like this?" his usual tired and monotone voice was gone, it was replaced with the slightest amount of shock and delight.

"ken I appreciate you being sweet, but it was my first time making it so its okay to tell me if its bad." you smiled up at him.

"my love what makes you think im just being sweet? this is amazing."

from there on out he would nanami would always compliment your baking exceedingly, getting on his knees in front of you right as he walked through the door and the smell of freshly baked buttery sweet bread hit him.

it still hurt your heart to see him so exhausted all the time. so you had the idea to take on a job at a bakery, your interview went well and the manager loved the sample pastry that you made, he gave you the job and the pay wasn't too bad. you were so excited to tell your husband about your new job when he came home because it meant that he wouldn't have to put so much strain on himself anymore and he could relax.

little did you know that it would lead to a small argument, where kento was being the stubborn one, for once.

"love I just don't understand, am I not doing enough?" he placed a hand on your hip and one on your cheek, his eye brows pushed together in confusion.

"ken you don't get it. youre doing TOO much." you grabbed his hand from your face and held it in yours. "you need a break. plus it would be good for me to get out of the house, I can't stand being at home and doing nothing knowing that you can barely get a full night of rest."

"that's not something you need to worry about-"

"ken."

"hm?"

"youre being stubborn. just let me try for a little while, and you can see what its like to have a break hm? if you REALLY don't like it, then ill quit okay?"

"do you really think that you need to take on a job dear? I-"

"kento."

"okay. but if you really don't like it then just tell-" you cut him off with a sweet kiss to his lips. you knew how much your husband hated working, but you also knew he was too stubborn to ask for help.

months had passed and its safe to say that your deal worked out as you and your husband were walking back from the beach during your week long vacation in Malaysia in celebration of your anniversary.

"ken look how pretty that orchid is!" you pointed high up into a tree at a beautiful fully bloomed white orchid that had hints of yellow and pink in the middle.

"hm." was all he replied with a small smile. I reached up and easily picked the flower due to his tall frame, he placed the flower behind your ear and admired it.

"looks even prettier now." he said as he gently cupped your face and pulled you in slowly for a kiss.

now every year on your anniversary without fail, your husband buys you the same exact white orchids with a hint of yellow and pink in the middle imported from Malaysia just to see your face light up all over again.

guess the saying was true.

a/n: this is not proofread and im aware this is ass but does it look igaf...

[redflagshipwriter]

Snatching Snitches 5

masterpost

Raven contemplated the hole she was digging and decided that the only way out was further down. Things had escalated rapidly. Helping Robin get his ugly cat back had seemed like a nice deed, and then when she learned it was actually a ghost, it had seemed funny to register it as Dick’s cat. It was a harmless prank to saddle him with the cat he didn’t seem to like much.

And then it turned out to be the ghost of a human child who, so far as she could tell online, appeared to actually still be going to school. What the fuck was going on with that? Was the carboy dead or not?

‘I’m a terrible person for thinking that’s even funnier. This is literally a Schrödinger bit’

Raven smirked to herself as she waited for Robin to get back with the super-secret adoption paperwork that Bruce kept in his study to cry over whenever he and Dick had a fight. He was definitely going to notice that it was missing, but she was willing to bet that Bruce would think that Dick had done it himself. Those idiots couldn’t communicate about feelings if their lives depended on it. She was going to get away with this, no sweat. She just had to keep going until the end. Sure, the consequences would get worse the more she did, but that wouldn’t matter if she pulled it off.

“I might be going down, but Dick is going to be planted,” she muttered to herself, stretching out her hands and then rotating her wrists. She cracked her neck. That had been a lot of paperwork. 

The air buzzed to let her know that Robin wanted to come back. Raven opened up a portal and he slipped through, much like a cat himself. Granted, it would be hard to convince a cat into one of those preppy blazers. It was a real flashback to Dick’s mathlete days. Raven choked down a laugh as Robin lifted his face to confront her directly with a crisp envelope in hand.

“Here.” He looked like a combat accountant and he only came up to her collarbone. God, she loved working with the trainees. It was a perpetual joke that no one else was in on.

Raven took the envelope with a smirk and a flick of the wrist. “Thank you.” She hadn’t been willing to steal from Batman personally. “I’ll take this to get filed.” She held the paper up a little higher and marveled at how light it was. This little paper was going to be so goddamn funny.

The little boy looked like a half-scale doll of a businessman with his hair slicked back. It was difficult not to laugh when Robin nodded gravely. “You are an admirable colleague.” Beneath the tightly-leashed exterior, Robin was awash with sincere gratitude and warmth, with a hint of admiration. It was a significant improvement on the resigned scorn he had for the other kids in the tower.

‘His diction is just like Dick’s. I’m gonna have a war flashback to infiltrating that museum internship program to find magical forgeries.’ 

His crisp little businessman tone aside, that was… sort of touching feedback. She nodded back at him. “Your professionalism is also appreciated. I’ll file a personnel request in a few minutes..” Raven had been thinking it over while she waited. “We need to move quickly. I’m going to have a field trip to train one or two of the new kids. You’ll be my assistant.”

Robin’s nose flared, but he otherwise did not react to the, as he would see it, unfortunate need to have tagalongs. “That will suffice,” he agreed, the pompous little pussycat. The air around him soured with regret.

She sent him back in another portal and then sat at her laptop to file a request for him on a mission. Someone in the Batcave approved and filed the request within minutes. Pretty typical for them. The next request was for Suzie, and then the last member of the group… Robin’s little Superboy friend, actually. If there were a lot of ghost fights, it would be a good chance for him to see more aerial combat. Supers were a little overly confident if you didn’t deliberately let them get their asses handed to them by someone else who could fly. 

When she was done with administration work Raven spun around on her chair and stretched out her shoulders before she got up to do a little magical research into Amity Park. The human world wasn’t generally very safe for non-life, so there might be some relevant background information. She wanted to know the magical landscape before she brought Secret there. Sure, she was already dead, but she was still basically an elementary schooler. She was learning a lot and maturing, but she would never actually hit 10 years old. Raven had a significant duty of care.

Unfortunately, she hit a dead end with that line way too early and had to look into the online resources. It looked like nothing of note had really happened in Amity Park history, so it had to be a modern era problem.

“Who the…” Raven furrowed her brows and scowled at the screen. “Who are these losers?” She sneered at the government website. They had an inventory of their weaponry on their private server that seemed ridiculous and unnecessary.  “Good thing I asked for a Super, we might need a shield,” she muttered to herself. “I don’t know if this would harm Suzie if it hit her…”

The tiny girl herself drifted through the wall not an hour later, blonde hair floating in an invisible breeze. “Hi, Raven.” Her blue eyes were bright with interest. “You have a mission for me?”

Raven tried not to sneeze on the smoke. “Secret,” she said evenly. It always sort of fucked her up to see dead kids, even if they were still wandering around and having a better afterlife than their life had been. “Yes, I do. We are looking into a custody situation for another ghost. There’s something really strange in this place– it is full of ghosts. There’s nothing in the history to justify this level of spiritual saturation.”

It was really bothering her, actually. This type of thing usually took a long time to accumulate.

Suzie’s mouth dropped open for a moment. “So you need me to act as a warder?” She beamed. “Guide someone to the afterlife?” Her smoky sleeves floated around her body in a mock embrace and then billowed out like wings. She was adorable.

…She should probably not suggest that around Robin. He might make her cry and undo all of Raven’s work to engender confidence.

Raven kept her tone even. “I don’t think that’s what we want to do, but it would be foolish not to bring you along to get your expert opinion.”

As expected, the child puffed up with pleasure at being trusted. Nurturing that confidence had been a trial, and Raven wasn’t going to let a chance pass by. 

“This is Danny,” she said, and beckoned Suzie over to look at her screen. “He died a few months ago, but on the official record? He’s alive and well and attending school, although his grades have dropped.” 

Damian was going to have to dig into his allowance to get tutoring for his new kid.

Suzie hummed, fascinated. “He’s a big kid,” she said, cocking her head. “Like fourteen?”

Raven hid a wince. “That’s right, he died at 14,” she agreed. “He was caught up in a summoning and taken to Gotham two months ago in a secondary form.” She kept a subtle eye on Suzie, watching her emotional state. This was probably a sensitive topic. “If possible, we are going to transfer custody to one of the Gotham vigilantes. I’ve already contacted an afterlife young ghost protective center.”

‘Had no idea that existed until this morning, but whatever.’

The little ghost went silent for a long moment and considered that, bobbing faintly in the air. “I suppose if they think the placement is fine,” Suzie said slowly. “I would feel better seeing the ghost. Danny. What was the secondary form?”

She didn’t smile, because she was a hardass bitch. “A housecat.”

Suzie giggled. “That’s cute,” she said, and then hummed as she tipped her face up to think. “It sounds like he was vulnerable. Becoming something cute and small is a way to be safe. I’m glad that we are looking into it.”

“Yes,” Raven said, and switched her tabs. “There are two factions of ghost hunters in this city, one of which is actually Danny’s parents. So I will be doing a home check with Robin while you and Superboy do recon of the general area. Depending on how good they are, you may or may not catch their attention.”

Suzie stared. “His parents.”

“His parents.”

Suzie’s eyes darkened. “I wonder how he died.”

Given that she had been murdered by her adoptive brother, the odds were good she was thinking the same thing that Raven was.

It was an effort to keep her voice neutral. “That’s my first question,” Raven agreed. “I don’t like it. It’s very convenient that these ghost hunters suddenly have ghosts in their vicinity after years of failure.” She pulled up their neon website. “They have to be complicit in hiding the death, at the very least.”

“Or seriously negligent.” Suzie crossed her legs in the air and hugged her ankles, bent over into a tiny shape to peer at the screen.

Raven inclined her head, but she couldn’t quite buy that anyone would fail to notice their child had died in the house a few months back. “I want you to look at these images of suspected ghosts off the GIW servers and tell me if you know anything about any of them.”

“Right!” Suzie nodded in determination. Her emotions spilled out in the air, wholesome and sincere. “I’ll do what I can.”

Raven’s answering smile was real. “I know you will.” She hit print. 

Not an hour later, Raven gave up on her books for the day and rolled her neck out. “I’m going to run an errand,” she announced. “What do you want to do?”

Suzie looked up from the folder she had made to mark up entity photos with her questions and comments. “I’m fine here, I’ll leave when I‘m done,” she said vaguely, and then immediately went back to what she was doing.

Raven nodded and went to her closet to pull out a suit. She styled herself to be as boring as possible and then took herself to Gotham city hall. 

The receptionist looked up at the clack of Raven’s heels approaching. “Good evening,” she greeted, radiating the overwhelming impression of normality and reasonability. “I need to file a certificate of adoption on behalf of a client.”

“I can take that.” The clerk indicated the sign in sheet. “Would you put your name and time of visitation down?”

“It’s better if I don’t.” Raven leaned her elbow on the counter and flourished the envelope, smiling faintly. “Here you go.”

The clerk paused, but Raven’s general aura was too powerful for her to protest that it was irregular. “Thank you.” She opened it and pulled out the paperwork. Her eyes widened and brows went up when she read the names. “That’s…”

“Overdue?” Raven asked dryly.

“All in order,” came the correction. A stamp came out and was pressed firmly on the bottom of the paper. “I’ll have this filed before the end of the day. Will there be an announcement in the newspaper?”

“No, it’s better not to,” Raven said, really coaxing.

The clerk took a deep breath. The exhalation where she would have told anyone else “It is a requirement” came out silent. “I can see why,” she said instead. “Thank you. Will that be all?”

It really felt like there should be more fanfare. But Raven shook her head. “No, that’s all– Actually, can I get more of those papers, blank forms?” 

Maybe she wouldn’t need them! But something was very odd with little Danny Fenton. If he was somehow passing for living… She might have to have him adopted via the human court system as well to avoid compromising his education.

…How the fuck was she going to pull that off?

Raven worried over the problem on her way back to the tower, scowling up a storm cloud of negativity that sparked rain. She slammed her way back into her room and was faintly grateful that Suzie had already cleared out. Raven pulled up her stub of a file on Danny Fenton and started adding more biographical information. She’d seen there was a sister in the same school, but Raven found the first photo.

“...Hm.” She added the photo and went looking for photos of the parents. Danny had blue eyes and black hair, which really wasn’t a common combination. It was weird that his sister had red hair. She didn’t get it from their dad, it turned out, who was a black-haired brickhouse of a man. Raven’s heart rate picked up with excitement as she searched up images of Madeline Fenton. Her university affiliation photo showed a beaming middle aged woman with subtle white in her red hair who apparently lectured on occasion. Bit premature, those white hairs, since she was only 39. Not much older than Raven’s Teen Titan’s cohort, as a matter of fact. Oh, fuck. A delicious timeline came together.

“And 14 years ago…” Raven mumbled to herself, feeling a wicked idea come together. Oh, fuck yes. She full-on villain cackled at the throwback photo of Madeline Fenton at age 25, when Dick had been 22 and in love with any redhead with a pulse. “She’s hot,” Raven said with relish, and slapped her hands on the desk in delight. It was the first full body photo she had found online, and Madeline Fenton was a goddamn fox. “Oh, Dick would have. He would have.” She cracked her knuckles and set in to do something truly heinous as a backup plan. “Now I just need someone to help me falsify DNA results.”

It was a late night, but it was going to be so worth it.

The adoption hit squad landed in Amity Park at 9 am local time on Sunday, ready to investigate Danny Fenton's unliving situation. 

[skygemspeaks]

marvel universe dashboard simulator: spideytorch ship war edition

🤟 spideyparktorchtruther Follow

🕷️ spideyslut22468

god i'm so fucking tired of hearing about johnny fucking storm's love life. it's always spideytorch this, stormparker that, and now i have to deal with this new monstrosity of a ship? have we considered maybe leaving them alone? these are real ass people, why are you even shipping them anyways? go find some anime twinks to thirst over

4,235 notes

🧟 avgnwyrkr Follow

so anyways i still haven't stopped thinking about that one tiktok where the person saw spider-man chilling eating a hot dog one day and went up to him to ask him what he thought about peter parker and it was so obvious the person was trying to start some drama or whatever but instead spidey just apparently went on for like ten minutes about how awesome peter parker is and how good he is at photography and how smart he is and how they've been friends for like ten years

guys, what if we've been wrong all along? what if spidey really isn't in love with johnny? what if he's in love with peter instead?

😏 shutterbugsupremacy Follow

that's what i've been saying!! i mean guys? peter parker is LITERALLY the only photographer that spidey ever allows to get proper photos of him? he's been taking photos of spidey since he was in high school! he literally put out a photobook that was entirely pictures of spider-man.

🕷️ spideyslut22468

y'all are reaching so hard i'm surprised you haven't pulled a muscle. if parker was really in love with spidey would he have sold his pictures to a newspaper that does nothing but slander spider-man's good name? from what i've heard, jjj pays parker pretty well for his spider-man photos. he's not taking pictures of spidey out of love or anything, it's all just for money. same with the book. he's a sellout.

😏 shutterbugsupremacy Follow

hey man, we all gotta eat somehow, and spidey has said in the past that he doesn't care about parker working for the bugle. also, see above about the video where spidey talks about how awesome parker is. maybe you need to cool your jets, yeah?

🕷️ spideyslut22468

spider-man has been friends with johnny storm literally since the fantastic four came onto the superhero scene, obviously he's gonna play nice when asked about his best friend's long-term boyfriend regardless of how he actually feels about parker. y'all are just looking for signs where there aren't any.

345 notes

🥰 stormparkerownsmysoul

look, i know that we've all had our differences in the past, but let us not think about what sets us apart, but rather what brings us all together.

16,345 notes

❎ superheroshipbrackets

310 notes

❤️‍🔥 spideytorchendgame Follow

me talking to anyone that will listen about my theory that peter parker is just a beard for johnny storm to help keep his actual relationship with spider-man a secret

❤️‍🔥 spideytorchendgame Follow

like guys just hear me out okay? spider-man obviously wouldn't want his real identity to be well known to the public, and publicly dating johnny would put him at constant risk of being found out. so that's why they have johnny fake date peter parker! he's the perfect candidate! i mean, we all know he has ties to, like, a ridiculous number of superheroes. he's worked for both reed richards and tony stark, and people have snapped pics of him hanging out with captain america and deadpool. he's even been spotted with daredevil and daredevil hates everyone! so him dating johnny wouldn't really put him at any more danger of being targeted by villains than he was already in. and what's in it for peter? i mean, he gets to live in the baxter building (he probably has his own secret apartment and doesn't actually live with johnny) and probably gets a bunch of expensive gifts and stuff to compensate for all the shit he has to put up with for being johnny's partner.

2,463 notes

[waynes-multiverse]

You already know how fucking much I loved this haha (and this is only Part 1 lol 👀 – Part 2 had me gasping, screaming, crying, laughing even more... all the things!!) ❤️‍🔥

Dean setting his life on fire in this fic 😆:

First of all, I loooove Fools Rush In and haven't watched it in ages! You've been reminding me of all the good 2000s rom-coms lately 😎💕

And "I Can't Help Falling in Love" was my wedding song (but the twenty one pilots ukulele cover). Since we got married in Vegas, I didn't want to go too Elvis, but still give a nod to it 😆

It starts at Sam Winchester’s joint bachelor-bachelorette party at a nice hotel downtown. He and Eileen aren’t the “strippers and coke” kind of party couple. They’re more the “wine and brie en croute with pickled olives” on the expensive crackers you can’t afford—kind of couple. They look perfectly in love, if a bit long-suffering while Dean gives a hilarious, somewhat inappropriate, but still ultimately heartwarming toast to their happiness.

This was such a vivid image, btw. Instantly tells you everything you need to know about the bride and groom, and I'm fully agreeing with Dean's toast skills 😂

“Yeah, looks good in your hand,” he says, adding a teasing wink for good measure.

He's the devil lol. Sam should've locked him up 😂

And all her rambling made me realy fall in love with her! She's so sweet and a genuinely good human through and through ❤️

He can almost imagine that he’s coming free inside you, that you’re milking his cock for every drop, until there’s nothing left for him to give.

This is such amazing foreshadowing btw 😂😂

“Sorry. Gonna need to take a raincheck,” he says. He hurries to find his clothes strewn all over your bedside floor.

This was my first heart drop lol. I knew after that, they'd never get back to it 🙈

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit. Because if you really liked her, respected her, and respected me, you would’ve made the time,” Sam says.

Sam went full bitch mode. It's my favorite Sam 😆

“Nothin’, I was just thinking of that night,” he says. “I had a good time.” “So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.”

I fucking SCREAMED during this! You don't know how much. I wanted to shake that stupid boy till the earth trembled 🤣🤣

“You know, Dean, I’m pretty busy with my job right now. I just started here a couple of months ago, and I think I just need to focus on that right now,” you say.

And I hated her for lying here instead of downright saying "Hey, I don't do casual. This was a one time exception for me" because then Dean could've said "Oh no, I meant a real date." This story is an amazing accumulation of what ifs. My mind was spinning 😅

he ran into Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, while he was at the grocery store buying beer and Twizzlers. She was a smart, sharp, sexy brunette. A yoga instructor, he soon found out. So he took a chance on asking her out. They’ve been going slow and steady ever since.

“Well aren’t I lucky, getting the prettiest girl on my arm,” he says, with a charming smile.

Aww, Benny, we truly don't deserve you 😭😭

Oh fuck. The man’s face begins to pale as he descends into shock.

But he reacted in full Dean fashion. I never doubted he wouldn't be there for her ❤️ (Although not breaking up with Lisa was so incredibly idiotic. The frustrations that came from this gaaaah 😂)

“So, you’re what, six months pregnant?” she asks.

“Well, I’ve never thought it. Not even once,” he says. His jade green eyes are firmly set on yours, and he gestures between you and him with a pointed finger. “The reason you and I are here right now, is because the minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

He was so sweet here 😭❤️ My heart burst. And again, I just wanted him to dump Lisa and fucking be with reader grrrr

Oh, he remembers all too well.

Dude, fully triggered a Swiftie here at the end 🤣

But honestly fitting since this entire story pretty much has the drama and angst of a ten minute break up song 😆❤️

With that, I leave you till the next part where there will be just a row of gifs with people screaming and sobbing 🤪

IF I STAY - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

AN: Yes, here’s another firefighter AU! Based on a request from one of my lovely Patreon members: @redhoodieone. She requested pretty much all the major beats of this story, so hopefully I did her request justice! This is also partially inspired by Fools Rush In, a beautiful movie with Salma Hayek and Matthew Perry (Rest in Peace, King).

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis

Word Count: 8.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, thick thirty, hints of body insecurity, but also body appreciation, angst, and hurt/comfort.

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 1: Fools Rush In

Slowly, your eyes slide open into the waking world. Your head is resting on something warm, firm…and a little sweaty. You pick your head up, despite the disorienting, muddy feeling of a slight hangover.

A groan bubbles in your throat. Your gaze travels downward, and you realize that what you’re looking at is more of a who.

Your eyes widen. Oh…my…God…

Not only are you very naked, but your firm pillow is too. It happens to be your best friend’s brother.

Yes, holy fucking shit! You slept with your best friend’s brother.

Biting the inside of your lip, you can’t help but take him in, here in the raw light of day as he lays peacefully on his back. His head lolls to the side on your usual pillow. Your eyes roam over the bow of his lips, the dark eyebrows, lightish brown hair that's softer than it should be between your fingers.

He’s painfully handsome. There’s a slight hesitation in your touch, but you softly trace the cut of his jaw and the stubble spread across it. That roughness feels familiar, and not just under the pads of your fingers, though the thought makes you blush. You begin to remember the night before, almost like a movie reel through your mind… 

Ooooh, right. That’s what happened.

It starts at Sam Winchester’s joint bachelor-bachelorette party at a nice hotel downtown. He and Eileen aren't the "strippers and coke" kind of party couple. They're more the "wine and brie en croute with pickled olives" on the expensive crackers you can't afford—kind of couple.

They look perfectly in love, if a bit long-suffering while Dean gives a hilarious, somewhat inappropriate, but still ultimately heartwarming toast to their happiness. After lowering the glass of champagne from his lips, his gaze catches on yours in the crowd. You suck in a subtle breath. 

Technically you’ve met him already, being one of Eileen’s bridesmaids, but there’s something about his green eyes that pin you to the floor. When he hands over the mic to Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, his head turning away from you to offer her a smile breaks the spell. It allows you to breathe.

Dean later finds you by the bar. You’re drinking a rum and coke with your slice of cake, trying not to get a single crumb on your dress. You've put a lot of work into affording it, let alone fitting in it. He leans his elbows casually on the counter and looks over at you.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he nods at you with a smile, subtly taking you in first. Then, his eyes go to your plate. “Ooh, red velvet. Gotta get me some of that.”

You smile back at him. “It’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, looks good in your hand,” he says, adding a teasing wink for good measure.

You don't know why that does it for you, but a half-flattered, half-nervous laugh tumbles out of your mouth. Sam has warned you before about Dean. Apparently his older brother is a bit of a flirt; a ladies’ man.

A man whore, are the words Eileen used.

You’re honestly surprised he’s talking to you when Eileen’s other bridesmaids, Lisa and Jo, are sipping martinis together down at the other end of the bar. Guess they didn’t want cake.

They look beautiful in their lithe, strapless little cocktail dresses. You’ve had to give up chocolate, bread, and cheese for three months straight to fit into this dress, something slinky and red that drapes over your thicker, curvy figure. But you’re proud of the fact that you’re letting yourself eat cake tonight, even though you’ve often felt like Mrs. Doubtfire while standing for pictures next to Lisa and Jo.

They’re Eileen’s friends, not so much your crowd. No matter how much you’ve tried to get to know them while helping the wedding planning in whatever way you can, you still get a high school clique vibe from the women, if with more “polite smiles.” Then they’ll typically go back to talking about crystal centerpieces—or whatever in-depth conversation they were having before you were there. 

But right now, Dean’s focus is on you. When he asks you more about yourself, you tell him about recently earning an elementary education degree.

“Ah, but you already knew that, because Sam told you we graduated college together,” you realize, with warmth tingeing your cheeks. That subject came up pretty quickly when he introduced you to his brother.

Dean’s smile confirms your suspicions, so you just keep filling the silence on reflex.

“Well, I actually just started teaching my first ever semester of second graders. They’re a bit of a handful, but overall, they’re really sweet.” Your smile falters. “Except for this one kid who likes to put little tacks on my chair. He’s kind of a menace, but I think if I bribe him with enough lollipops, he’ll give it a rest. I mean, it’s a behavioral issue and I should probably call his parents. But it's kind of hard to tell them their son is trying to make my ass into a pincushion."

Dean's laugh comes out in a sharp burst, like he wasn't expecting what just came out of your mouth. You didn't either, honestly. You giggle more out of embarrassment, ducking your head.

"He’s in second grade, you know?" you say, in between laughter. "I don't think that little footnote needs to end up on his permanent record. But then there's Micah. He's so friggin' smart. He can read at the fifth grade level already. Can you believe that? And I know I'm not supposed to have favorites, but his grades on his spelling tests get him a spot in the comfy bean bag chair pretty much every Friday. Honestly, I think that's what I like about working with kids. I get to see that spark on their face when something just finally clicks for them. Their little faces get all bright and happy and…ugh. God, I'm sorry. I'm rambling, right?”

You stop yourself with a hand sliding over your mouth, not quite covering your smile of embarrassment.

Dean’s grin just widens, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

"It's okay. I kinda like it," he teases.

You duck your head, biting your lip against a groan. He chuckles and reaches out for your hand, earning your nervous glance. He quirks his head.

“Hey, you're passionate about what you do, helping kids. That's nothin' to be ashamed of,” he says, brushing his thumb over your hand. “But sweetheart, I gotta ask. Am I making you nervous or something?”

God, yes, you think, especially at that sweetheart thing. It’s making your heartbeat tick up a syncopated rhythm, but you shake your head, biting the straw of your rum and coke.

“No, not at all,” you say, in a hopefully “breezy” kind of way. You touch your fingers to his wrist. “Tell me about you though. Sam mentioned that you’re a firefighter?”

“Ah, yeah. Firefighter in training,” he says, with a more genuine smile.

He just started at the Fire Academy, and he tells you about all the drills he’s had to learn and all the training he’s had to do to be able to keep up with his classes. You subtly eye him while you sip at your drink, and you notice the crisp cut of his buttoned-down shirt and leather jacket, the definition of muscle across his thighs under the slacks, even while he casually sits.

Your gaze subtly travels down his long bowed legs, smart dress shoes. His cologne is woody and masculine, but not overpowering; maybe bergemot and sandalwood. It pleasantly wafts under your nose every time he gestures with his hands while he talks.

“Aw man, I can’t hold out anymore. I think I need to get me some of that cake before it’s gone,” he says, getting up from his chair.

You’re a bit disappointed that he’s leaving, until he stops short.

“You want another piece?” he offers, gesturing at your empty plate that’s been resting on the counter.

You blink in surprise, but you shake your head. “Oh, no. I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not? It’s a party,” Dean reasons. His grin is too damn infectious. It has you smiling, and begrudgingly agreeing.

Not only does he bring you more cake, but you watch him eat three whole slices before he asks you to dance.

The rest of it flashes through your mind like strobe lights—the way he’d started small and respectful with his larger hand closed over yours and the other along the curve of your waist. He guided you closer and closer, until you were turned around into his arms, and you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

You felt his lips teasing your skin. Then those hands tantalizingly drifted down your every soft curve, as if showing you a preview of everything he could do to you, and every way he’d make you come apart. You believed him.

And when he whispered in your ear, asking if he could take you home, you let him.

You let him drive you in that big black piece of history he drives. Used to be my dad’s car, he said. A Chevy something. You couldn’t really remember much when his hand was drifting up and down your thigh like that.

His presence burned hot at your back when you two eventually got to the front door of your apartment, your hands just barely shaking as you got the key in. Twist and click—

He waited until you flipped the lights on. Then he turned you around slowly in his arms and pulled you in close, all the while asking you with his eyes and raised brows. This okay? You want this?

“Do I still make you nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching at a smile when yours do.

You nodded, uttering a small giggle. “In a good way.”

That was when he finally kissed you, hot and slow, like he meant to devour you whole. He moaned at the taste of you, at the feel of your ass squeezed in his hands. You clung onto him strong, breathing into his kiss and trying to meet every single demand of his lips.

It soon became a fiery tear to your bedroom, one lamp flicked on, hot breaths and nice clothes crumpled to the floor. You didn’t feel self-conscious even once when he guided you under him on the bed, because he wasted no time in taking you apart, inch by inch.

His lips kissed and licked and sucked a burning trail down your neck, over your collarbone and between your breasts. You felt his hardened length trapped between your bodies while his hands explored you, teasing your breasts and sensitive nipples, and he mapped his way down with his lips.

You explored every part of him you could—every dip of muscle, firm shoulders and the slopes of his back, and then back up to tangle in his hair. Your heated gasps and whimpers filled the room when his sinful mouth found what it was looking for between your legs.

It wasn’t often that you had a strong pair of shoulders to rest your thighs on, but Dean’s grip was hard enough to leave deep fingerprints of pressure on each thigh while he slipped his tongue through your folds and feasted on you.

“D-Dean, oh God,” you gasped. Every sound you made was a sensuous symphony in his ears, washing over his skin and making the well of his desire churn hot in his lower belly. He had to roll his hips into the mattress for some relief for his aching cock, even while he moved his mouth up to your clit, circling the swollen bud with his tongue. He had enough room to slip two fingers deep inside your sopping wet channel, exploring you deeply, stroking and twisting to find what you needed.

Your thighs trembled and squeezed tight on either side of his head. When he sucked your clit tight between his lips, you uttered as gasping moan as that coil snapped its release. Your inner walls fluttered around his fingers. Yours clenched tightly in his hair, threatening to rip out a few strands.

Dean stroked you all through your first orgasm, giving slower licks to your clit. He seemed to sense when you couldn’t handle anymore though. You tugged more sharply on his hair, and he finally pulled away, moving back up your body to gauge your reaction.

You’d collapsed boneless against the bed, but you still managed to smile up at him as you caught your breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. But his self-satisfied grin almost made you laugh. You took his glistening face between your hands and pulled him down for a grateful kiss.

After a moment to savor your lips, he broke away for a second to catch his breath himself. You stroked his back all the while.

“You know, for a minute down there, I thought you might not let me come back up,” he teased.

You choked on a laugh, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Honestly wouldn’t have minded if you did suffocate me,” he chuckled, accompanied by a slap to your left ass cheek. You squealed, and blushed hotly at the way he was grinning down at you.

“Ready for more, baby? Or you want to call it a night?” he asked. His tone was playful, but it was actually a serious question. You blinked in surprise. You’d never had a guy be this, well…generous, and not expect anything in return, especially not for just a hookup.

But you shook your head and sat up, slipping a hand behind Dean’s neck. After a beat of hesitation, you guided him down to you for a slow, sensuous kiss.

“No, I don’t want to call it a night,” you whispered. Your hand drifted down his bare chest, and lower still. You showed him just how well you could return the favor.

And now, come the morning, you’re blushing down to your neck as each scene flashes through your mind. You feel the ghost of his hands all over your body, and how you’d never quite felt quite as bold and sexy and beautiful with a near stranger as you had with Dean effing Winchester. Your best friend’s brother.

You begin to worry your bottom lip with your teeth. How the hell are you going to tell Sam? Especially after he warned you about exactly this. Plus, there’s a reason you don’t typically do the one-night stand thing, and this has the potential to become something very complicated.

You know what, it’s fine! you think. We’re two consenting adults. We’re both single. And maybe…maybe it could be more than a hookup. Maybe we can see each other again, see where it goes.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Dean says, his voice croaking with sleep.

You look down at him in surprise. His eyes have cracked open and he has your hand captive, stopping you from continuing to idly trace patterns on his bare chest. You smile in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you say. Again, you bite your lower lip. “Um, good morning.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” he grins lazily. “You sure wore me out last night.”

Your smile becomes more genuine, even if you turn your face away somewhat shyly.

“Aw, don’t do that,” Dean says. He slides his hand up your arm and behind your neck, tangling into your already tangled hair when he guides you down to his lips for a kiss. “You were awesome.”

You giggle against his lips. “Really?”

“Hell, yeah,” he says, kissing you again.

You shake your head a little. “You were…”

Amazing. Unbelievable. Probably the best night I’ve ever had.

“Perfect,” you decide. Because it’s the truth. The word comes out of your mouth before you can filter yourself though, making you pause. Dean does too, but after a beat, he slowly smiles.

“Oh yeah?” he asks.

You lick your lips, and you nod. “Definitely.”

“Well, then,” he says. His hand moves down to squeeze your hip. “You down for a repeat performance?”

You smile. “Only if I get a turn.”

Bracing your hands on his chest, you slide your thigh across his lap so you can straddle his hips. Dean grins and goes along with your idea. He gets a nice healthy handful of your thighs and helps settle you on top of him. But first, he reaches over into your nightstand drawer and finds another condom, ripping it open with his teeth.

Just like you did for him last night, you take the packet, as well as his generous length in your hands. You gently stroke him to full mast, smiling pleased at his groan of pleasure. Then you carefully fit the condom over him.

“You’re so gentle with me,” he teases. 

“Just returning the favor,” you quip, just before you position him at your wet entrance. Slowly, you sink down over his cock.

You both moan at the feeling of him stretching you again, warm and thick and fitting perfectly nestled deep inside. There had been moments last night where he wasn’t all that gentle, actually, but his passion had only spurred yours on more. You know you’ll probably find fingerprint marks on your thighs and ass, but it’s fucking worth it, you think, as you begin to bob a rocking rhythm that serves you both.

Dean arches his back underneath you, his knees coming up to press against your ass.

“Goddamn, baby. Givin’ me quite a show,” he says, in a panting voice that’s deep as sin.

You utter a breathy laugh.

Dean means it though. He’s enjoying the way you brush your hair out of your face, your beautiful tits in his face while you truly let loose for him. He guides you by the stronghold he has on your hips, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh as he ruts up into you, meeting your thrusts.

Your breath quickens, your nails digging into his chest on reflex, and your heart races as that delicious pleasure builds. But when Dean snakes a hand between you and further parts your folds to massage tight circles over your clit, your vision flashes white. You utter a scream of pleasure on his name, your inner walls choking him tight as you throb around his cock. His release hits him like a goddamn freight train.

“Aw, fuck,” he grunts.

He slams your hips down hard, making your thighs slap against his. A ragged groan escapes him in a rush. His hands move to your thighs just under your ass, where his fingers press into flesh hard enough to leave forensic ID, giving him leverage to bury himself deep into your pussy as he spills a hot release into the condom.

Goddamn…

He can almost imagine that he’s coming free inside you, that you’re milking his cock for every drop, until there’s nothing left for him to give.

The thought surprises him. It almost takes him out of the moment, honestly. That’s not a thought he’s ever had before—not with a woman he barely knows (which is most of his hookups, if he’s honest).

In that delicious, fractious moment just after it hits, it’s like those few seconds are suspended in zero gravity. Your arms are shaking, and your forced to collapse against his chest. Dean welcomes you there for a little while, letting you come down while he smooths a hand over your hair.

Though he can't help the urge to let his big hand drift down over your dewy skin, down the gentle slope of your back and over the curve of your generous ass. He gives one cheek a teasing slap. The sound echoes in the room.

"Goddamn perfect ass," he says roughly, smirking at your squeal. You end up grinning hard against his neck.

"'S that my new nickname?" you quip.

He chuckles deeply, moving you along with his chest. "Hell, sweetheart, if you want it to be."

Eventually, you lean back to give him a smile and one last kiss before you pull away from him. You slip off his lap to find your robe, at least. You definitely need a shower.

“So I’m thinking, after we get cleaned up, I could make us some breakfast,” you offer. “Or if you want, maybe we could go somewhere. I know a little diner down the block.”

“I like the sound of food,” Dean agrees with a smile. Ge reaches over for his phone on the nightstand, to check the time. His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

He has to get his ass over to the Fire Academy. He has class in barely twenty minutes.

He tears out of bed and nearly trips on the coiled sheets.

“Sorry. Gonna need to take a raincheck,” he says. He hurries to find his clothes strewn all over your bedside floor.

“What’s the matter?” you ask with wide eyes. You cross your arms under your breasts, but it’s more like you’re hugging yourself over your robe. You watch him tear through your bedroom in a tempest of movement.

Dean spares you a glance, but not much else as he yanks up his slacks and belt and dress shirt.

“Gotta get to class,” he confesses. Thank God he has his uniform in the trunk of his car for exactly these kinds of emergencies. He grabs his phone, wallet, and keys, and quickly kisses you on the cheek. He gazes down at you apologetically. “Sorry I gotta cut and run, sweetheart, but it’s been fun.”

Your smile barely reaches your eyes. He’s pressed for time, but he still notices.

He slows himself down and cups your cheek. “Hey.”

He gets your pretty eyes looking up at him, and he gives you a real kiss, nice and slow. He cradles your cheek and brushes his thumb across your skin.

“Thanks,” he says. His now familiar grin manages to make you smile. “And I mean that.”

You shake your head at him. “Okay go, Mr. Future Fireman. Be safe out there, okay?”

He gives you a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

You can’t help but laugh. This guy’s too much. But you don't think you've had this much fun having sex in...

All right, let's not put a timeframe on it.

You watch him leave your apartment, even though you have a sinking feeling in your chest. You knew this was just a hookup for him, for both of you. Part of you just couldn’t help hoping that it could’ve led to something more. 

Dean means to call you.

He really does.

After that truly awesome, you shook me all night long, kind of a night, he thinks about you more than he’d like to admit over the next few weeks. However, he finds himself locked into his training. He’s so close to finishing strong and earning his badge, he just can’t afford any more distractions.

Still, he should’ve known that Sam would find out—either through Eileen, or through you directly. He also should’ve expected the way his brother let him have it.

“And you didn’t even fucking call her. See? This is why I don’t set you up with any of my friends anymore,” Sam bitches at him from his side of the small two-seater dinner table. They still share an apartment, though in just a month and a half, Sam’s going to be moving out. He and Eileen already found a house that they’re moving into after the wedding.

“Look, I was going to call her, man. They’ve just been bustin’ my ass at the Academy!” Dean argues.

“Bullshit.” Sam levels him with the same finger that holds his beer.

Dean’s brows raise, high and annoyed. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit. Because if you really liked her, respected her, and respected me, you would’ve made the time,” Sam says.

That falls heavy between the brothers for a moment while they eat their pizza.

“Look, I know her. She doesn’t do hookups that often, which means…she probably liked you,” Sam adds. “And honestly, when are you going to give it a real try with someone? You can only visit that free clinic so many times.”

Dean shoots him a glare. He’s had a clean bill of health from said clinic for six months straight.

“Jesus Christ. Enough, all right?” he grouses. “What’re you, Mom?”

“I’m just saying,” Sam says, lowering his crust to the plate. He levels his brother with a more earnest look, lightening up from his anger. “Look, if it’s about what happened to Dad—”

“What, you mean the way he drank himself to death after Mom died?” Dean says. His voice cuts through whatever softball glove Sam is trying to handle him with. “You think that’s the kind of thing I should be looking for in my life?”

“Oh, and what, do you think I’m making a mistake marrying Eileen?” Sam counters.

Dean sighs, shaking his head. “Damn it, don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I’m saying, it’s just…I don’t know. Maybe that kind of life—the house, the wife, the 2.5 kids and the dog. Maybe that’s just not my life, okay?”

Sam gives him a long look. He lets go of a deep breath, and he shrugs.

“Okay,” he says. “If you think hooking up night after night for the rest of your life is going to make you happy, then fine.”

Dean nods, glad that they can put an end to this little After School Special.

“Okay.”

Still, he can’t finish his third slice of pizza. He keeps picturing your face when he left you that morning. No matter how you tried to hide it, he still saw the tinge of disappointment in your eyes. It brews something uncomfortable in his stomach, and a sting in his chest.

You’re eating lunch alone in your classroom, finally on your break, when an unfamiliar number flashes across your phone screen. You look down at it in confusion, but with all the caterers and florists and things you’ve helped Eileen with on the wedding, you figure it could be important. You pick up the call and greet whoever’s on the line.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

You drop your ham and cheese on your keyboard, gaping in surprise.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he chuckles slightly. “Sorry, I know it’s been a minute.”

You frown, because you’re confused more than anything.

“Yeah, like almost a month,” you reply. You put the call on speaker so you can grab up your sandwich and quickly brush off the crumbs from your keyboard. You struggle to say something cool, clever, sexy even. “I’m okay. Just, um…what’s up?”

Smooth, real smooth. You cover your eyes with your hand.

“Nothin’, I was just thinking of that night,” he says. “I had a good time.”

Your frown deepens, despite the beginning of a blush warming your cheeks. If he’s calling you just for another hookup…

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.”

And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

“I could make us some burgers, toss in a couple of beers and a movie night,” he adds.

That part throws you though, you’re not going to lie. What, is this a Netflix and chill situation—with a side of fries?

You consider it. You weigh pros and cons at a frightening speed in your mind, almost like Sherlock Holmes contemplating the layout of a dead body and deducing within moments that his wife committed the murder, despite the man no longer wearing a ring.

You want to let yourself be bold and spontaneous and carefree...but it's just not who you are at your core. You're a planner, a cautious person who looks three ways before crossing the street. Letting Dean take you home that night was certainly one of the most spontaneous, wild things you've done since your friends took you out to a strip club after you aced your final round of exams back in college.

(Sam hadn't been there that night, but he did get an embarrassing drunken text from you at 3:00 a.m., along with a few shame-ridden pictures fueled by questionable substances. Yes, he still had the evidence.)

You just don't know if it's smart to let yourself hookup with Dean again. Mostly because you know your heart has the tendency to get attached, no matter how much you warn it not to.

“You know, Dean, I’m pretty busy with my job right now. I just started here a couple of months ago, and I think I just need to focus on that right now,” you say. Part of it isn’t a lie, even though your soft heart is stinging.

“Ah, okay. Yeah. I get that,” he says. You hear his disappointment too. “But I just need to say, I really am sorry for not calling you sooner.”

Your lips tug at a smile. “It’s okay, Dean. Look, you’re Sam’s brother. I just feel like, maybe it’s better if you and I stay friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Dean says wryly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t have three rounds of steamy hot sex with any of my friends.”

Your blush comes swiftly again, burning in your cheeks.

“Be that as it may,” you say, “I just don’t want to do anything that will distract from Sam and Eileen’s wedding.”

“Oh, I’m a distraction, huh?” Dean says flirtatiously. 

You begin to smile in earnest. “I think you know damn well what you are, Dean Winchester.”

His deep chuckle practically resonates through the phone and into your chest, going straight down to your pussy. You clench on nothing just at the sound of his voice, making you cross your legs under your skirt. Dear God…

How are you supposed to be even remotely normal around this man now? 

But for Sam’s sake (and your own), you’ll have to try. 

Two months later, Dean has taken Sam’s dating advice to heart. A week or so after you turned him down, he ran into Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, while he was at the grocery store buying beer and Twizzlers. She was a smart, sharp, sexy brunette. A yoga instructor, he soon found out. So he took a chance on asking her out. They’ve been going slow and steady ever since. 

Dean hasn’t heard from you since the rehearsal dinner, but he sees you again at his brother’s wedding. All the bridesmaids are wearing long, royal blue dresses that drape off the shoulders and hug the bust and waist, flaring gently at the skirt. Lisa and Jo wear it beautifully, their hair perfectly smooth and coiled. 

But when you step out into the hall outside the church ballroom to join them, Dean actually pauses in what he’s saying to his brother. He nearly double takes when you enter his line of vision—mostly because he hasn’t seen you in a dress since that night. You were sexy as hell then, a lady in red. 

Today, you’re absolutely stunning. 

After greeting Sam with a warm hug, you turn to him with a nervous kind of smile. “H-Hey, Dean.”

With that, he snaps out of it. Dean smiles, eyes crinkling, and goes over to give you a hug as well.

“Good to see you,” he says, trying not to inhale too much of your nice perfume. It’s even in your hair.

“You too,” you reply. Your smile is a little brighter, more genuine. Though there’s something behind your eyes that he can’t quite place.

What he doesn’t notice is the way Lisa is watching you and her boyfriend, a hint of suspicion on her face.

You do though. You pull away from Dean and assemble into a line with Lisa at the helm. As the Best Man, Dean stands with her, followed by Jo and Brady, another one of Sam’s buddies. You and Benny bring up the rear. Benny’s dad used to work with John, Sam and Dean’s father, on the police force.

According to Sam, John Winchester worked a beat for twenty-six years before his liver finally gave out on him. Dean almost went to the Police Academy to follow in his dad’s footsteps, but Benny, already working his way up to Lieutenant, suggested Dean become a smoke eater instead. The suggestion stuck.

Benny Lafitte is slightly shorter than Dean, but just as broad-shouldered, his auburn beard neatly trimmed. Even though you might’ve thought he was rough around the edges at first, his kind blue eyes spoke the contrary. He offers you his arm like a gentleman.

“Well aren't I lucky, getting the prettiest girl on my arm,” he says, with a charming smile.

You smile, and even begin to blush at the way he subtly takes note of you from head to toe.

“Well, thank you. You’re very handsome yourself. Although, hold on.” You slip your arm out of his for a moment so that you can fix his tie. It’s slightly crooked. You make sure that it lays flat under his collar, smoothing down all the edges and picking off any small dust particles that landed on his collar. Benny watches you with an indulgent smile.

“Am I good?” he asks.

“Very,” you reply.

“I appreciate it, thank you,” he says. You don’t know if he means to sound flirtatious, but his voice is a deep drawl that washes over you pleasantly. You find yourself blushing down to your neck as you slip your arm back around his.

You also don’t notice how Dean glances at you and Benny over his shoulder.

As much as you love Sam and Eileen, it’s difficult for you to keep your mind from spinning into fractals as the ceremony goes on. You can’t help but glance at Dean. He stands there behind Sam dutifully, but you see brotherly pride in Dean’s eyes, in his smile. It makes you smile too. You too love Sam like a brother, and it brings a well of happy tears to your eyes to watch him have his moment with his new wife.

It just also reminds you of what you need to do.

After the ceremony ends and the bridal party files out behind the bride and groom, you excuse yourself from Benny apologetically. You wait until Lisa and Jo go off to take pictures with Sam and Eileen, and you grab Dean’s wrist, pulling him aside.

“I need to talk to you,” you whisper.

Dean gives you a confused look. “They’re gonna need us for the pictures.”

“I know, but this is important,” you say. Your voice trembles with nerves, and so do your hands. Dean notices, frowning in concern. He grasps your arm to try and steady you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Just come with me,” you implore him. You take his hand and lead him into the women’s dressing room attached to the church sanctuary you all just came out of.

Dean raises his brows at the mess you and the rest of the bridesmaids have made of the room—pantyhose and makeup and clothing litter the floor and most available surfaces, while leftover breakfast sandwiches, grapes, salami, and cheddar cheese cubes are splayed out across one of the vanity counters. Dean is tempted to steal a morsel, but he focuses on you first.

You close and lock the door, which makes his brows raise high again. You know he has a girlfriend now, right?

“Uhh, look, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but—”

You heave a sigh. Again, you take his hand and guide him to sit with you at the vanity. The old stools squeak, the overhead lights a bit too bright. This is not where you want to do this, but you can’t hold it in anymore.

“Dean, I’m pregnant,” you confess.

He freezes. His breath stills in his lungs. His eyes slowly widen as the words click in his brain.

“What?” His head tilts, as if he didn’t hear you right.

You squeeze his hand; to ground him or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I’m about two months pregnant. I found out last week.”

Dean swipes his free hand over his mouth while he tries to compute. He squeezes your hand, tighter and tighter. He points to himself.

“It’s…it’s me? It’s mine?”

You give him a weary smile. “You’re the only one I’ve been with in the last few months. It could only be you.”

Oh fuck. The man’s face begins to pale as he descends into shock.

“But we…I used a condom,” he reasons. “All the—all the times!”

You bite your lip. If you weren’t freaking the fuck out yourself, you’d probably be laughing right now. Granted, you’ve had a bit more time to process this than Dean.

“I know, I was there,” you reply, releasing yet another sigh. “One of them probably broke. That’s all I can think of… Honestly, Dean, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I just didn’t want to disrupt the ceremony or cause a scene before the wedding. But now you know.”

Dean falls silent then. He hasn’t let go of your hand, which you think is a decent sign. He’s likely forgotten that you’re still holding it as he stares off into the middle distance for several seconds.

Eventually, he shakes his head and returns his gaze to yours. He looks uncertain, his handsome face the true epitome of holy fucking shit.

You know the feeling.

But he asks the most important question.

“What do you want to do?”

Briefly you close your eyes as you take a breath. You squeeze his hand before you let go of him.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, and…I’m keeping the baby,” you tell him, though you raise placating hands. “I don’t want money, or anything like that. I just wanted you to know that it’s yours. How much you want to be in his or—or her life, that’s up to you.”

Dean takes a beat before he answers, but you don’t have to wait so long holding your breath.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll help you. Don’t worry,” he says.

And just like that, all the time you spent giving yourself pep talks for this, telling yourself that you’ll need to be strong no matter what he says, all of it crumbles into relief. Your lower lip trembles, and your body shudders as you break into tears. You try covering your face to hide your shame, but Dean grasps your shoulders.

“Hey, hey. It’s all right,” he says. He tentatively pulls you into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You nod into his dress shirt, probably staining him with your running makeup.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Thank you so much.”

He holds you a bit tighter in response.

You and Dean agree to keep this to yourselves for now, at least until Sam and Eileen get back from their honeymoon. It’s difficult to explain why your eyes are all red and your makeup is smudged, but you promise Sam that you’ll tell him later. You know it’s pointless to lie to him though. As a lawyer, his bullshit meter is far too high.

However, you also know that he’s half guessed it by the time you all make it to the reception. When you and Dean came out of that dressing room to join the bridal party for pictures, you're sure that you looked emotionally wrecked. Dean had looked pale as a sheet, his body coiled and tense, as willing himself to seem normal. Sam had clocked both of you with a raise of his brow, but he didn't say anything then, especially after you gave him a pleading look.

While Eileen greets her family without him for a moment, Sam pulls you aside. He notes your glass of diet coke, in a moderate sea of guests drinking champagne and cocktails.

“Are you okay?” he asks knowingly.

Tears well up in your eyes again. You don’t know if it’s your damn hormones going haywire, or just the way Sam asks you, with the love of a friend in his eyes. He squeezes your shoulder gently, prompting you with your name.

“Yeah, I think I will be,” you say.

"Is it the same reason you're not drinking?" he asks. "You and Dean earlier..."

You hesitantly confirm with a nod. Sam blows out a harsh sigh, raising folded hands to his mouth as he processes. You begin to look around on reflex, trying to see if anyone's watching you and Sam have this conversation in the middle of the reception. To your relief, everyone around you seems occupied with drinks, hours d'oeuvres and conversation.

“What did he say when you told him?” Sam asks. His gaze is firmer. You get the idea that if he doesn’t like what you tell him, then he’s about to go grab his brother by the ear himself.

You grab his wrist and give a placating squeeze. “He said he's going to help me, be there for me.”

“Damn right. So will I,” Sam nods, and glances back at Eileen, his new bride, with a smile. “We both will.”

“I know,” you nod as well. “I’ll be okay, Sam. You don’t have to worry so much. Just enjoy your wedding day. It’s the only one you’re gonna get. Well, you know…hopefully.”

You tease him with a wink.

Sam laughs, cupping your cheek. He kisses your other cheek.

“I love you, you know that right?” he says.

You give him a trembling smile through your tears.

Meanwhile, Dean has a beautiful woman in his arms. He turns Lisa on the dancefloor, trying not to trip on his own dress shoes, all the while knowing that his brain isn’t here in his body. It’s across the ballroom, watching you talk to Sam. Dean can tell that he knows, just in his Big Bird body language. He’d also recognize that accompanying Bitch Face anywhere.

“Dean, what’s wrong,” Lisa asks him, and not for the first time. She’s getting annoyed, he can tell. She finally looks over to where he keeps glancing, and she notices you with a frown. It’s also not the first time she’s caught him staring at you tonight.

“What was that earlier in the dressing room? She didn’t really get food poisoning, did she?” she asks pointedly. “What, did you two used to date or something?”

He gives a wan smile. “Yeah, kinda. We…had a thing once.”

“What kind of thing?”

Dean closes his eyes and tries to keep himself calm. He’s pretty sure if he tells her the truth right now, she’s going to find the nearest cocktail and dump it over his head.

But shit, here it goes.

“Well…”

After a long day at school, you drive over to Dean’s apartment. You’d agreed to meet there and wait for him to get off his shift at Firehouse 83, where he just started as a full-fledged firefighter on probation. When he gets home, he’s supposed to go with you to an important appointment with your OB-GYN. 

You were hoping he’d already be done with work by the time you got to his place, but Lisa's there to open the door for you. Apparently, he’d already given her a key.

Moving kind of fast, but okay, you think. A second later, you could’ve rolled your eyes at yourself. Pot, kettle, me. Got it.

Lisa greets you with a “polite” smile at best, but she does offer you water at least. You really can’t blame her for not liking you though. She found out her boyfriend got another woman pregnant right before he started dating her. Really, she has more balls than you for staying with him. You wouldn't put it past Dean to somehow have smooth-talked her into giving him a chance.

Or she really loves him. The thought sobers you as you lower yourself down to the couch beside her. Both of you sit there in silence for a moment, trying to figure out something to talk about.

“So, you’re what, six months pregnant?” she asks.

You correct her in thinly veiled annoyance. “Three months, actually.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know why I thought it was six.”

You have a feeling her awkward chuckle is fake, however. She knew good and damn well that you’re not six months pregnant. In her eyes, you must be the size of a parade float. 

“If you want, I can recommend a holistic diet to help you get your body back after the baby’s born,” Lisa offers. “No pills, no chemicals. Just good clean weight loss.”

You feign interest. Honestly, you’d like her to cram that offer right up her hooch.

“I can even give you a discount if you want to try out yoga,” she says. “It’s low impact, but you burn plenty of calories. I have a beginner’s class, not too strenuous. Even my least flexible clients manage to do the poses.”

Is that why Dean likes you? Because you’re bendy? Bet if I sat on you, you’d pop like a fucking balloon.

You hide all of these thoughts behind a “polite” smile of your own.

“That’s really nice of you, thanks,” you reply. It’s non-committal enough, but hopefully it’ll get her off your back.

No such luck.

“You know, maintaining a healthy diet is really important for the baby’s health too,” Lisa adds. “It’s not just about avoided raw fish and dairy products. Oh, and processed food is obviously a no-go. Like, I’m sure you haven’t been hitting Taco Bell and all that stuff, right?”

As a matter of fact, you’ve been eating clean since long before you got pregnant. Not that it’s any business of hers whether you enjoy the occasional quesadilla or not.

Your temper snaps at its leash. You open your mouth to reply, when the front door unlocks and opens to Dean, stepping in through the threshold.

Thank God, you and Lisa both think. She gets up quicker from the couch than you, greeting her boyfriend with a kiss. You avert your gaze while you begin to get up yourself.

Dean reaches out to help you, grasping your arm in support. You shoot him a smile.

“I can still get up by myself,” you snip.

“Yeah, all right. Just in case,” he says with a smile. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. Let’s rock and roll,” you say, trying to hide your worsening mood. You’re exhausted, and irritated, and probably more than a little hangry. Except now, the idea of food just has you feeling guilty for even being hungry.

“Bye, hun. Hope you have a good appointment,” Lisa says, giving your shoulder a pat. You give her the most genuine smile you can muster as you thank her. It's possibly that she's one of those women who don't realize when they're being cunty, but you find it highly unlikely. She's too smart for that.

You follow Dean out the door and over to his car, big and black and sleek as you remember. You settle into the passenger seat with your arms crossed in silence. Dean switches the cassette to one of his favorite Led Zeppelin albums, though he notices your grumpy face.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

You give him some side-eye, but you’re reluctant to say anything. You just shake your head. As irritated as you are, you don’t want to be the friend who badmouths his girlfriend.

God, are we even friends? You wonder. Or am I just his knocked-up baby momma?

And again, you realize that this whole situation is probably hard for Lisa. You just don’t know if she’s jealous, or if she just…doesn’t like you.

“I’m okay,” you tell Dean.

He raises a skeptical brow. Looks like Sam isn’t the only one with a finely tuned bullshit meter.

“All right, how about this,” Dean says. “Let’s grab some burgers after this, huh? From your favorite spot. Shake Shack, right? Side of fries, frozen yogurt. I think I’ll get chocolate this time… Hmm, I doubt Lisa will want anything. She’s gone on an all-vegan kick or something.”

For one shining moment, you were happy and touched at his consideration. But now your body stills in your seat when you remember Lisa’s words. Tears well up in your eyes with a hot sting, and a sob escapes your throat.

Dean is cut off from thinking about getting extra bacon on his burger. He looks over at you in alarm. “H-Hey, what’s the matter?”

You scoff at him through your tears. “Are you kidding me? I can’t eat burgers anymore, Dean. I was already fucking fat. Now it’s just gonna get ridiculous.”

“What?” Dean’s brows knit together in confusion, along with his deepening frown. It gets worse as he tries to watch the road ahead, while at the same time, watching you continue to crumble.

“And after the birth, I’m just going to be an even fatter slob who can’t take care of her baby,” you sniffle and weep, trying in vain to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself.

Dean grits his teeth, his jaw twitching. Fuck it.

He turns the steering wheel sharp enough to startle a gasp out of you.

“Dean!”

He pulls the car over onto the side of the road, ignoring the honking SUV behind him. He shifts into Park and shuts off the radio—a big red flag, in your opinion. He’s upset too, and fucking serious, more so than you’ve ever seen him. You stare back at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve never once heard you say that you’re fat,” he says.

You blink at that, but eventually, you’re able to get your tongue to unstick from the roof of your mouth. You wipe the remnants of tears from your cheeks. Your face is already hot from your upset, now tinged with embarrassment.

“You haven’t known me very long,” you say quietly.

It doesn’t help. Dean’s jaw ticks again.

“Well, I’ve never thought it. Not even once,” he says. His jade green eyes are firmly set on yours, and he gestures between you and him with a pointed finger. “The reason you and I are here right now, is because the minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

One corner of his lips kicks upwards. “And that night, you didn’t disappoint.”

Your mouth falls open slightly. You don’t know how to respond, but you do know that a full blush is warming your face and neck. His words have power, and unbidden, they bloom a similar warmth between your legs. You swallow a bit nervously as you bite your bottom lip.

Dean glances down at your mouth when you do. He can remember what your pretty mouth did for him that night. Oh, he remembers all too well. He even had the shade of your lipstick streaked across his skin until he showered up at the firehouse.

He locks that all away when shifts the car back into Drive. If you’re going to make it to this appointment on time, he needs to get going.

And you both have to leave whatever that was right here by the side of the road.

AN: Woo! 😮‍💨 Yep, this is only Part 1, friends. Lisa is a bit different in this. My take was that without Ben in her life, she might be less mature and a bit more catty. As we get into Part 2 I'll leave it up to you to decide why she decides to stay with Dean, and perhaps more importantly, where the reader and Dean can go from here as co-parents. 🤔

If you enjoyed Part 1, please let me know!~

Next Time in Part 2:

“Hey, you okay?” you say, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

Dean shakes his head. “Look, I…I’m sorry for tossing a giant friggin’ monkey wrench into your life. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

If possible, your heart softens even more. You slide your hand down to grasp his.

“Dean, this baby wasn’t planned, but he’s not a mistake,” you say. “I don’t regret anything.”

Dean stares back at you incredulously. He can’t believe you could really say that to him. He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows what’s in his mind, and what he feels compelled to do in that moment.

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours, and achingly familiar.

⋆˙⟡ Read Part 2 on Patreon now!

⋆˙⟡ Coming to Tumblr/Ao3 on 3/23

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[ghostgirl-22]

you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to but..

patrick spiking arts drink with like viagra or an aphrodisiac and then “helping him out” because he’s such a good friend <3

Oh but I want to!! <3

This is post Artrick and Patashi break up and Patrick and Art end up in Vegas at the same bachelor party for a high school friend. Maybe Art has it coming? Maybe Patrick is like the best friend he’s ever had <3

Heed all warnings cause Patrick is totally remorseless and unlike everyone who does something bad in those old black and white movies I’ve been watching lately, he absolutely gets away with it. Sorry not sorry!

CW: intoxication, secret drugging, cnc, dub con (in the sense that Art doesn’t have all the information, but he wants it, he told me). This is pretty much what it says in the ask. Obviously don’t read if this makes you uncomfortable. Not proofread.

—-

It’s bad and wrong, and wrong, and so fucking wrong.

Patrick might tell the truth later. Might let Art get back at him because even for him this is kinda fucked up. But to be fair, he only did it because he was horny. And maybe he wanted a little revenge.

It all started at the bachelor party. It’s the first time they’d seen each other since Tashi’s injury and everything. 

Both of them trying to put it all aside for their high school buddy Addison’s Vegas bachelor party. He’s hosting it with his husband to be…this older, rich tech company guy. Patrick thinks it’s a bit annoying. Even if he was gonna marry some dude he wouldn’t want the guy crashing his bachelor party— he should have his own and hang out with his own friends. but that’s beside the point. 

Patrick thought Art wouldn’t dare show up because Patrick was always closer with Addison. Art probably thought the same thing about him. And yet…surprise. 

Thankfully they barely have a minute alone together sober. Sober, Art is so cool. 

Cool. 

Cold. 

Icy, even. 

Totally Remorseless. They make small talk. He’s dating her now, the little shit. She’s coaching him. He’s playing Indian Wells in a few months. Patrick ponders hating Art. He doesn’t know if he’s quite there yet but it feels like he’s close. 

He still looks so pretty though. 

It’s a reunion of sorts. A lot of their old teammates came. Addison rented the penthouse suite in the Bellagio, private elevator, crazy views… fifteen guys… seven rooms, not that anyone plans to sleep.

Art and Patrick had been known to read each others minds in the past and it feels like that hasn’t changed. Apparently they’ve silently agreed that the last thing they want is people asking things like… “what the fuck happened? you two used to be so close.” Which is how they end up in this unspoken truce pretending like it’s all normal between them. All the way down to the expectation of them sharing a room. Which is fine because, again, no one is really planning on sleeping.

Everyone meets up in the afternoon and they start in the casino. Getting tipsy on watered down liquor while they all spend way too much money. All of them rich kids, or recovering rich kids. Patrick’s not using his parents money but he’s still reckless like he is, so certain he’s gonna make it all back on the craps table.  Art doesn’t gamble so Patrick decides to make him blow on his dice, as a joke the way girls do in movies. of course he wins it all back and quite a bit more on a real risky bet. It’s annoying in the way. He’s glad he won but it feels like it’s Art that can’t lose. Suddenly everyone at the table is asking him to bless their dice. Like he’s just so fucking lucky all the time. 

Patrick doesn’t push his own luck. Whatever the fuck is left of it.

The whole group cleans up and goes out to dinner in the evening. They catch up on their lives since school and tell silly, fun, embarrassing stories to Addison’s husband to be. Afterwords they go to a show. A magic show. Tipsy and cheering at the tricks like they’re back in 6th grade. It’s easy. It’s fun, actually. He barely has to be alone with Art.

By 11pm they’ve started bouncing around the strip from club to club. Bar to bar. Party to party. Mostly gay bars and drag shows which no one minds because honestly they all just love Addison so much. They’re getting properly drunk now. 

It’s then when Art begins getting attention on a level that even he’s not used to from all these really hot guys… that’s when everything gets messy. Drunk and flushed, Art has no idea how to receive any of it except to turn all his repressed homosexual energy back onto the safest target. Patrick.

“We’ll just pretend to be together, you know? So they stop…touching me.” He explains loudly in Patrick’s ear.

Patrick smiles, just about drunk enough to put up with this bullshit. “Okay…fine… whatever… fuck it.”

It doesn’t feel pretend though, especially when they end up soaking wet at this all night foam party just downstairs in their hotel. It’s way too late at night, so many guys jumping up and down all sweaty and hot. Boys kissing. Touching. Shirts unbuttoned, the music too loud, skin too soft. Art hanging all over him, so drunk they actually start grinding to the music. The bass competing with Patrick’s heartbeat for which can go faster.  Feelings so complicated Patrick might need 24 hours in the psych ward to sort it all out. 

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas right? 

Patrick needs a minute. He leaves Art alone, barely able to take anymore. He uses the excuse of needing the restroom. It’s not even a second before at least two guys are swooping in, competing to take his place, one of them their other teammate Lachlan who’s got a wife at home and a child on the way. 

God. 

Patrick needs another fucking drink. Addisons already at the bar and Patrick leans in next to him. 

“What’s that?” He asks Addison as he’s adding powder to his glass.

“It’s a magic pill,” Addison laughs.

”Magic?” Patrick hiccups. 

“Yeah like… like horny candy.” 

Patrick pouts, brows raised in confusion. maybe he’s a little too drunk for this game.

“Viagra. Sometimes i spike my boyfriend— my fiancés drink with it. See.” He holds up a little pill and crushes it under his glass on the bar

Patrick laughs. “Isn’t that kinda fucked up?”  

“Well…I mean… probably yes… but you know he’s older. So I feel like I’m doing this for his ego.” Addison explains.

“Hm,” Patrick ponders. “Have you ever tried it?”

“I’ve had a sip of his drink before when i didn’t want him to know i spiked it. We ended up going at it all fucking night.” Addison grins. “It’s not necessarily for guys our age…but there’s no harm in it as long as it doesn’t last more than four hours i guess. which is easy if you just fuck. Here. You can take one with your… boyfriend? girlfriend?”

the way Patrick feels right now, his dick is so hard he can’t even fathom the point of viagra but he lets Addison drop the pill in his hand anyway. who knows? He’ll be 24 in six months. A proper grown up. maybe his dick will be the next part of his body that will lose the will to live.

“Are you still bisexual Pat?” Addison leans in stroking Patrick’s bare chest. “Cause we’re kinda open and wouldn’t mind trying it with you tonight, and you know… the more the merrier if you want blondie to join us.”

They both glance at Art, dancing all drunk and unabashed between both guys. their hands all over his lithe figure while the speaker blares Bad Romance by Lady Gaga.  

Patrick rolls his eyes and looks back at Addison. “He may be a fucking tease but we both know he would never. But I think I need more to drink before I get back to you.”

“Well…You know where to find us… preferably before this kicks in!” Addison raises his glass. 

Patrick waves to the bartender, fingering the pill in his other hand. Then it sort of hits him like a ton of bricks. This nasty idea. More than a little fucked up. He almost wants to touch himself just thinking about it. 

He orders two drinks. Rum and coke. Nothing crazy different than what they’ve been drinking all night. Crushes the pill into dust under the cold glass and swirls his finger with the powder into the glass he wants to give to Art..

Oh he feels a little gross. Most people around him too drunk… the bartender too busy to notice what he’s doing. 

Art doesn’t think twice; he trusts Patrick so much. What a wonder to betray someone and still think you can trust them so completely. like none of it matters. Art let’s Patrick “save” him from the other boys touching him.

“I swear i feel like Lach was turned on,” he hiccups, swallowing the drink down. “Like I could feel his… you know what.” He continues in Patrick’s ear. 

”Really? Could you?” Patrick asks, dryly. Stupid. He still acts so… innocent oblivious. Patrick just wants to fuck shake him. He’s beyond hating Art. He doesn’t hate him. Could never hate him. He does hate that after all this fucking time he’s still not over him. 

It doesn’t take long for Art to feel it. He’s back to clinging to Patrick. All over him as a way to keep the other boys away. Patrick starts to notice him adjusting himself, getting breathy, getting anxious. Gripping a little too tightly.   

“Uh I need um…um…  is it too hot in here?” He says in Patrick’s ear. “I need water.” 

“What?” Patrick asks like he didn’t hear him. Keeps his body pressed close, hot breath in Patrick’s ear.

“The room… I think I need to go back to the room.” 

Patrick shrugs. They tell a couple of the guys they’re leaving. And of course get teased for being lightweights at 4 in the morning. Only in Vegas. 

Art has his eyes closed, knees knocked together, too drunk, so aroused. He’s resting the side of his head against the wall of the private elevator as they make their way up to penthouse.

”Sleepy?” Patrick asks, standing in his space. 

Art’s all glassy eyed, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide when he gazes at Patrick. “Um… yeah… yeah.” He stammers.  

Patrick smirks, tangles his fingers into Arts damp hair. He hums, eyes closed immediately, lips parted. And then the elevator dings and Patrick lets go. Arts eyes open and he stumbles out behind Patrick. 

In the room Art’s trying to hide it from Patrick. Trying to keep himself together. He drinks a lot of water from the mini fridge. Tries to go in the bathroom but Patirck gets there first. Not to pee or anything, he’s too fucking hard for that. Probably just to keep Art from jerking himself silly over the toilet. 

Patrick strips down to his boxers for sleep. Brushes his teeth in the mirror. The whole time he’s tenting, so ridiculously aroused, thinking of Art squirming, Viagra unknowingly coursing through his system. 

Patrick decides he’s probably not a good person but right now he doesn’t fucking care. 

He reaches inside his boxers to adjust himself before returning to the bedroom, but he has to touch himself just a little first. A few gentle jerks over the length of his dick and he’s catching his breath. He tucks himself up, snug against the waistband of his boxers and takes a few deep breaths. 

When he walks back in the bedroom, Art is sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand down his pants, tugging himself, little soft moans escaping his lips. He panics when he sees Patrick and tries to save face but it’s kinda too late. 

“Uh sorry… uh… it’s not—” 

“You like boys Art?” Patrick teases.

“No… I just… I think I’m overstimulated.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah I… I… it was a lot of touching. I was…” he takes a deep breath. “I mean I know I was a little bit um… turned on when they were…when the three of us were…when I could feel…” 

“When they had you sandwiched between them?”

”Fuck.” He whispers. “yeah a little…i guess more than I thought.” He admits. 

Patrick sits next to him on the bed. “Yeah me too.” He pads his palm over the outline of his own cock. 

Art staring, fingers gripping the sheets as he whispers a barely audible, “Jesus.”  

“We could… maybe… help each other out,” Patrick suggests.

Art looks up at his face, eyes narrowed.

”I mean nothing would change. It’d just be a one time favor between… old friends.”

Art looks down again, knee bouncing. Desperate enough to say: “Okay um…you mean like jerk off together? Like in high school?”

“Or…” Patrick gets on his knees on the floor in front him. 

“Patrick I—I’m not gonna do—“ he stammers. 

“I’m not asking you to… do you want me to do it to you or not?”

He takes a deep, shaky breath and then he nods.

Patrick moves between his thighs and tugs his zipper down further, eases his boxers down and hears Art let out a gentle gasp as his cock is released. Oh it’s painfully full. Poor thing he’s practically humping into Patrick’s mouth the moment he gets contact. 

“Mm, fuck,” Art sighs relieved to get the sensation. Patrick almost wants to touch himself. Can feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears while licking all along the base. Taking his time, swirling his tongue around the tip. He looks up at Art as he does it. He’s got his eyes closed, one hand holding himself upright on the bed and two fingers of his other hand shoved deep into his mouth as he moans around them. 

Oh. Right. Fucking oral fixation. Patrick’s drunk brain vaguely supplies. 

He’s distracted for a minute while kissing along the tip, licking, teasing, sucking and watching Art slide his fingers into and out of his mouth. Gorgeous little thing. 

Patrick severely underestimates how close he is.  And suddenly his face is getting painted with heated pearly liquid. “Oh.. ohfuckfuck’msorry… fuck.” Art groans around his fingers, hitching his hips involuntarily as more and more spurts out. 

Patrick opens his mouth and catches some on his tongue, he can’t help laughing a bit at how fucking crazy all of this is. On the floor of the penthouse suite at the Bellagio and he’s on his knees for his ex best friend who’s all drugged out on harddick medicine, and probably just gave him his first ever facial.

Patrick wipes a lot of it off on his arm and thumbs some of the excess off his cheek and nose, licking it into his mouth. “Well fuck.” He breathes. “You got a lot of that in you.” 

“Oh god…I didn’t mean to…Jesus, Pat look….” Art whines. Somehow he’s still almost as hard as he was before. 

Patrick runs his fingertips gently over the length, still spasming lightly. “You really had fun tonight huh?” 

“Oh fuck… this never… this never h-happens.” He stammers.  

“Really? You don’t get this turned on for women?”

Art presses his lips together, like he doesn’t want to admit to anything. He sits on his hands. “I um…” 

“Why don’t we try this,” Patrick says. “Don’t freak out…”  He goes to his travel bag for lube. 

“What—“ Art begins when he sees it. 

“I said relax,” Patrick says. 

Art leans back on his elbows as Patrick straddles him. “What are we doing?” 

“You already fucking jizzed in my face, just relax. You owe me this.” 

Art takes another shaky breath. Patrick covers his palm in lube and covers Art’s heavy, swollen cock. Art groans and shivers at the feel of it. So fucking sensitive. Patrick eases his own out and then takes them both in hand, lined up he starts jerking. Both of them moaning immediately, like a chorus, the sound filling up the room.

It’s sinful actually. The way it sounds. It’s probably something that would’ve made Art cry when he was 14 and so very afraid of drinking alcohol and swear words and sex before marriage. 

Now he’s moaning like a whore  around his fingertips, hips jerking up into Patrick’s fist, both of their cocks heated and swollen. Patrick is barely hanging on. He wonders if anyone else came home. If they can hear them fucking, neither of them holding back as Patrick moves faster and faster. 

Art falls apart seconds later, come coating Patrick’s palm, dripping between his fingers. and then Patrick’s following shortly after. Shooting spurts of come, aiming some at Art’s bare chest maybe as a little bit of payback. “Take them out of your mouth,” Patrick hisses. Art gazes up at him and slowly pulls his fingers out.   

Patrick pushes him all the way down on the bed and kisses him roughly. Art drawing his knees up, socked feet flat on the bed and arching into it. Tongues and spit everywhere. Patrick taking a minute to replace his lips on Art’s mouth with his come stained fingers. just to feel the eager way Art sucks them in, pulling hard with his tongue. If Art realizes he’s tasting himself, tasting Patrick, he isn’t complaining. 

Patrick pulls out, wet and sloppy and turns Art’s pretty face back into the kiss, deepening it till he’s moaning into Patrick’s mouth. Doing everything he can for more of the sensation. Grinding his hips up, his still heavy cock sliding along Patrick’s bottom. 

“Oh fuck,” Patrick groans because it’s still so hard. “You wanna fuck me?” 

“mm, my god,” is all Art can manage. 

“I won’t tell your girlfriend.” 

That draws him out of whatever messy trance he’s in and Art pulls away from Patrick, panting. “Oh god… why won’t it go away? ‘m is there something wrong with me?” He whines, suddenly teary eyed. 

“Like what?” Patrick asks, carefully. He doesn’t want to over do it.  

“I dunno… I dunno. I’m so… did i drink too much? I just… i just wanna… i feel so fucking horny…and I can’t calm down. I just… i wanna just… fuck. I’m… I’m so sorry, Patrick.”

Tired and drunk and overstimulated from all the sex he starts getting emotional. “I’m so sorry for everything. I think I love you. I think I’m fucking in love with you, Patrick. I think about you all the time when I’m fuck—”

”Okay shut the fuck up,” Patrick snaps gently, because the last thing he wants is to feel bad for him on a sentence like that. The last thing he wants is to spiral thinking about the two of them together getting everything they want without him. “You want my help?”

”Yes,” Art sniffles.   

“Here…” he hands Art the rest of the lube. “put this on and just… you can fuck me till you’re all fucked out. just imagine I’m a fucking fleshlight or something.” 

“Really?” He hiccups, and he looks so grateful like he’s gonna cry again. 

“Hey… come on, stop man. Just… I’m doing you a favor. Don’t fucking cry about it.” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and wipes his nose on the back of his palm. “I’m sorry. you’re right. Thank you so much. I’m sorry.” 

Patrick rolls his eyes and settles onto the pillow. he’s going to hell probably. Art is so fucking drunk, thinks he’s just trying to come down from some normal night where he got too overwhelmed. He thinks Patrick is just being such a good friend. 

It’s so fucking messed up but honestly it also feels really fucking good. Covered in lube. His unbearably repressed ex best friends dick, the same dick he’s been dreaming about since the first time he saw it. That pretty dick pumping in and out of him over and over again. 

“And don’t worry,” he whispers to Art. “it’s not even gay” because Patrick is just helping him relax. “It’s not even real sex I promise.” Even though Patrick can’t count how many times Art comes. Maybe 4, maybe 7. How many times Patrick’s nutted all over the pristine hotel sheets. He knows he’s managed to spill at least 3 times before Art is finally done, done. And Patrick is covered in his come and sweat and spit and tears he couldn’t be happier.

Art nearly wets himself in his rush to get to the bathroom after it all. Probably just relieved to finally be able to go. 

Patrick is so pleasantly sore and drunk and warm. He’s still covered in the sticky mess of it, knowing it’ll be much grosser on waking but he can’t bring himself to move. Art stumbles, back into the king sized bed, moving away from the wet spot but still burying his head near the crook of Patrick’s head and shoulder. So yummy.

He’ll probably tell Art at some point, maybe. Possibly. But right now the city is hungover, the sun is peeking in through the black out curtains and Patrick hasn’t felt this satisfied in a very long time. So easy… he drifts off into a peaceful sleep. 

(Flop era going strong. Sorry so long y’all. I couldn’t stop yapping.)

[bradleysass]

under - @rosekillermicrofic - wc: 416

Evan Rosier had been tied to a chair for approximately three hours and thirty-two minutes, not that he was counting. The ropes were too tight to wiggle free, but not tight enough to cut off circulation. His kidnapper, a man who had clearly seen one too many crime thrillers, had spent the first hour trying to intimidate him. The second hour was a monologue about how powerful and dangerous he supposedly was. By the third hour, Evan had tuned him out entirely.

Now, with a knife to his throat and a phone pressed to his ear, Evan exhaled in mild boredom.

"Call him," the kidnapper snarled. "Let's see if your boyfriend values your life."

Evan hummed, unimpressed. "You think this is going to end well for you?"

The kidnapper ignored him and dialed. It rang twice before Barty answered.

"Who the fuck is this?" came Barty’s voice, sharp and impatient.

The kidnapper grinned, pressing the speaker button. "If you want your dear Evan back, you'll listen very carefully."

There was silence for a moment. Then Barty scoffed.

"Oh, you’re under the impression I could care less about you having Rosie? That’s adorable."

Evan barely suppressed a smirk.

The kidnapper blinked. "What?"

"I mean, good for you, I guess?" Barty continued, sounding distinctly unimpressed. "Bold move. You kidnapped my boyfriend, expecting me to do what? Beg? Cry? Start gathering ransom money? Please."

Evan could practically hear the eye-roll in Barty’s tone. He decided to make it worse.

"Barty, love," Evan drawled, entirely unconcerned about the knife still pressed against his skin, "he's really trying his best."

"Is he?" Barty mused. "Because he sounds pretty fucking incompetent to me."

The kidnapper was growing increasingly flustered. "I—this isn’t a joke! You’re supposed to be afraid!"

Evan sighed. "Afraid of what? Barty?"

The kidnapper hesitated, glancing at the phone like it might explode. Evan lifted a brow, amused. "You did look into who you were dealing with, didn’t you?"

Barty made a thoughtful noise. "Yeah, Rosie, I don’t think he did. Should I give him a hint?"

Evan smirked. "Be my guest."

Barty’s voice dropped into something quieter, something lethal. "I hope you had fun while it lasted, mate, because I’m already on my way. And when I get there, you’ll wish you never fucking touched him."

The kidnapper’s face drained of color.

Evan tilted his head. "You’re really in for it now."

The call ended.

The kidnapper looked at him. Evan smiled. "I’d run if I were you."

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

I want james to be so mad at me that he fucks me as rough and deep as it gets. Oh! And throw a spit kink for good measure. (Please)

Warnings: smut, rough sex, degradation, praise kink, spit kink, implied age gap and height difference, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

This picture and him talking you through touching yourself 🤤

It was a rough tour, Lars was unusually annoying, which was a hard feat for even him. James was getting finally sober and it was taking everything in him to not head to the nearest bar after the show.

They had hotels for the night, which didn’t happen often so he was excited, or he would be if he wasn’t feeling violently angry.

He just flopped over into bed, still in his clothes from the show. He knew he had to change and shower while he could but he couldn’t bring himself to. Then there was a knock at the door.

“What?!” James called, barely holding himself up from the bed. You called for him but didn’t say anything else before knocking again. You were just a crew member sent to inform him of the flight delays for the next morning. “What! What the fuck do you want?!” He yelled again.

You flinched from the other side of the door. “I-I need to come in, sir.” You stammered out, already feeling like this was a bad idea. Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard his heavy footsteps coming across the room.

The door swung open and you were met face to face with all six feet of James’s fury. He grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and pushed you across the slim hallway, pinning you to the wall. “Speak.” He ordered.

You held his wrists but it did nothing to get him off of you. “Uh, there-there’s a storm coming, all flights are grounded until, uh, until further notice… I think…” you explained, squeaking out the last part.

“You think?” He asked, lifting you off the ground. “Are you fucking kidding me? You come here with news like that and you just think?!” He stared at you a moment, seeing the panic in your eyes. He pulled away from you, letting you down again. “Spit or swallow?” He asked. Your face flushed a deep shade of red. “Forget it, doesn’t matter, c’mere.” He ordered, leading you into his room.

To say you didn’t find James attractive was just a lie, a terrible one. He was big and tall and you’d heard every story about him in bed, even finding groupies after they got out of his dressing room and asking about him. He’d caught you staring at him, which was why he figured you’d be fine with this, and you were, but you were still caught way off guard.

He was kissing your neck and saying you looked pretty like the girls all said. He pushed you on the bed and ordered you to strip, which you obviously obliged.

“Wait.” He said once you’d gotten down to your panties and bra, a matching lacy lingerie set. “What’re you wearing that for?” He asked. “Expecting someone?” He pushed you further onto the bed, making you lay down. He was only in his boxers as well, you’d been eyeing him closely, from his muscular legs, the pudge of his belly, the hair trailing out of his waistband and under his arms, his tattoos. You could feel the heat between your legs.

“Maybe…” You said, trying to play along with him, but it was hard when he was already pissed and scary, and so fucking hot.

“Fucking whore.” He bit, hovering over you, pushing your legs up. “That’s why you came up here, isn’t it? Hoping I’d finally fuck you, right?” His hand came down on your thigh, making you yelp. “Swallow, pretty girl.” He ordered. You opened your mouth, wanting to be disgusted as he spat into your mouth, but you couldn’t be, you loved it, the taste of him, of cigarettes in his saliva as it slid down your throat. “Good girl, guess you could be good for something.”

That’s all you ever wanted to be, a good girl for him. You yearned for his praise, aching for his attention and affection, you were made for him, made to be his perfect cocksleeve.

“Be quiet, the walls are thin.” He grunted, pushing his tip into your cunt. You bit your lip, muffling the moan you wanted to let out as he slammed the rest of his cock into you. He had no remorse of sympathy, not waiting for you to get used to him before pounding you.

He pushed your knees into your chest, feet over his shoulders as he folded you in half. You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet, he filled you up just right, cock stretching you out so good.

“Doing your best and you still can’t shut up.” He said through gritted teeth. “Pretty good sock, though, let me hear how easy you are.” You didn’t hesitate, jaw dropping as moans flooded past your lips. You gripped the sheets tightly in you fists, this was all you’d wanted since the tour started. “Fuck, what a good little slut.”

Your head fell back. “Oh fuck, James!” You moaned, back arching off the bed. He smiled widely, proud of how quickly he could ruin you, didn’t even have to find your g-spot, his cock hit every spot without even trying, each harsh snap of his hips bringing you closer to the edge.

“Gonna cum?” He asked, laughing at how close you were, how fast he brought you to orgasm. “Come on then, soak my cock like the whore you are, fucking milk it with your pretty little puss.” His words were so filthy, praise hidden in degrading words, it made the knot in your stomach tighten and snap. You were practically screaming and his thrusts were relentless, still chasing his own high. “Fuck- take it, take it like a good girl.” He said, taking your face in his hand and holding it in place, making you look up at him as you still rode out your high.

With a few more thrusts he came, filling you to the brim with his salty cocktail. His breathing was heavy as he pulled out of you, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Sit there.” He mumbled, getting up and heading to the bathroom.

He returned a moment later with a wet cloth, wiping you down. “Gonna keep you with me, alright?” He said, leaning down and kissing your temple. “You’re a good cumdump, don’t say no, getting off on being called a whore… dumb slut.” You smiled proudly up at him and he chuckled, tossing the cloth away.

He got you out of your lingerie and gave you his shirt, he fixed himself in his boxers and pulled you under the covers with him, getting you comfortable. “Gonna train you to be my bitch, understood?”