#but really there's no such thing as a 'mathematical brain'

[blackvahana]

Last post lmfao. I'm learning shit about myself tonight

I already talk about how Grey is terrifying to people, how he's progress and science even when it's fucked up, how he'll absolutely experiment on himself including surgery and shit, and how he's in my mind like the father of humanity's persistence hunting in that he will pursue you or any goal he has in mind and you can run and scream and run and run but he will always catch you in the end

The fucking. Image of him in the crystalline halls - obviously translated to human memory because I'm seeing him in vaguely human shape in a literal crystal..... It's not even surprising me. It's not even odd. It's not even a long forgotten memory of a past self I'm like "woah I was like that??" about. that's what I'm learning about myself lmfao

[mariasont]

HI i have an idea and its making me really giddy

ok so reader is a translator for the bau and they’re always reading and translating texts or calls or anything like that. and the reader to spencer is basically like penelope to derek. they flirt all the time and all of those lovely things.. and it’s kinda just where they’re flirting on the phone and morgan teases reid about it and reid gets all flustered

IDK IF IT CAN WORK I JUST LOVE FLUSTERED SPENCER :(

anyway i’ll probably be in your inbox a bunch uhhh so call me h or something

-h

Warm Under the Collar - S.R

summary: spencer insists he is not flirting. morgan insists that spencer absolutely is. one of them is lying. pairings: spencer reid x translator!reader warnings: heavy flirting, pre-relationship mutual pining, verbal sparring as foreplay, workplace hr violations, use of angel wc: 0.6k

“Are you thinking about me, Dr. Reid? Because I’ve been thinking about you.”

Spencer exhales, tugging at the collar of his dress shirt as if loosening it might alleviate the sudden stranglehold of your words. He wasn’t sure if it was always this constricting or if it was conspiring against him at the mere sound of your voice.

He rolls his eyes, performative, really, because you can’t see him, and it’s easier to feign exasperation than admit the effect you have on him. His mouth, however, twitches in betrayal, flirting with a smile before he crushes it. 

The crime board he was supposed to be focusing on, filled with monochrome photos and reports, was now blurring into meaningless scribbles as his thoughts veer off-course, plummeting headfirst into you.

“I’m always thinking about you.”

The words come easily because they require no effort to be true. Always isn’t hyperbole, it’s a mathematical constant, an irrefutable fact.

He was thinking about you before he even called you, felt the shape of you in his mind like an afterimage burned onto his retinas. 

Thought about what color you were wearing, whether your hair was up or down. He wondered if you’d eaten, if you were drinking enough water, if you’d remembered to bring a jacket to the office because the temperature had dropped unexpectedly. 

“Always? Spencer, if you wanted me that bad, all you had to do was say so.”

He isn’t sure why he hesitates — why his brain takes a detour through all the ways he has said so, if not in words, then in the way his thoughts orbit you like a law of nature. 

“I feel like I did say so. Quite literally. But if you’d like me to be more explicit about it, I’m happy to oblige.”

Another pause. He wonders if you’re smiling.

“Mmm, well, I’m certainly not going to stop you.” You sigh, a little dramatic. “Go ahead, be explicit.”

Spencer physically winces at how hot his face gets. The very concept of explicit sits indecently in the pit of his stomach.

“Tempting.” He exhales, rubs a hand down his face, forcibly redirects. “But I do actually have a job to do. And, lucky for me, it just so happens to require your specific set of skills.” 

He leans against the crime board, half-smirking despite himself, because if nothing else, this is fun — the sharp back-and-forth, the way you press all the right buttons just to see what happens.

“I have a recording that needs translating. Think you can focus for long enough to help me, or do I need to, I don’t know, compliment your intelligence first to get you in a professional mindset?”

“Complimenting my intelligence to get what you want? Interesting. Manipulative, even.”

He groans, tilting his head toward the ceiling, appealing to some higher power for patience. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t say I was going to —”

“Too late, you put the idea in my head, and now I expect it. Preferably in an eloquent, well-structured speech. Bonus points if you make it poetic.”

“Or,” he counters, “you could translate the recording first, and I’ll… circle back to stroking your ego at a later, more convenient time.”

A small pause. The kind that feels intentional, like you’re weighing your options.

“I guess that works,” you say. “Send it over, pretty boy.”

Spencer shakes his head, fingers moving on autopilot as he sends the file, because if he thinks too hard about the way you lilted that last pretty boy, he might die. “Alright, thanks. Be good, angel.”

He hangs up, still grinning like an idiot, still entirely too warm under the collar. He exhales, staring at the phone in his hand like it might have the decency to cool him off, maybe undo the physiological mess you’ve left him in.

“If I have to listen to one more of your phone calls with her, I’m sending y’all an invoice.”

Spencer freezes when he sees Morgan standing behind him.

He clears his throat, ignoring the flush he knew was climbing up his neck. “Flirting is an unsubstantiated claim.”

Morgan just stares at him. Stares. “You don’t even believe that.”

Spencer mutters something about professionalism because he’s nothing if not a walking contradiction.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[meiieiri]

𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐞 ! [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: in which toji notices how you color-code your outfit every time you see each other…and promptly makes a game out of it in hopes it will cure his gambling addiction.

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | song inspo: colors | outfit inspos | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: 18+, suggestive themes at the end (explicit sex, fingering, mentions of masturbation), but otherwise, just a fluffy/semi-angst/semi-crack scenario of a lovestruck toji trying to cure his gambling addiction~~

Chewing on his pen, Toji’s fangs were beginning to hurt as he stares at the blank face of a random receipt he found in his mostly empty wallet. He seems to be deep in thought, he almost looks like he’s trying his best to crack a mathematical mystery except…he doesn’t give a shit about math and the only mystery he seems to be interested in cracking is…

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late!”

“Fuck.”

There you were in all your radiant magnificence eagerly waving to him from the university gates with your signature gummy smile he’s grown to love so much. You looked so beautiful and happy today…and you were wearing purple. A purple floral wrap dress. He was so sure you were gonna be wearing pink today Toji crosses out today’s date and the word: pink next to it with a frustrated “X”.

And in case anyone was wondering, this little guess-the-color-his-girlfriend-is-wearing-today game is something he came up with on a whim one day while waiting to pick you up after class. Of all the misfortune that has befallen him in his life, he has to thank the Zenin clan for one thing: sparing him the trouble of having to sit through an entire day of brain-frying university lectures about Kant’s second law of physics.

He hurriedly buries the receipt in his back pocket as he crosses the street, closing the twenty-five meter gap between the two of you. Pressing his lips against yours, Toji hums appreciatively when he tastes his favorite strawberry-flavored lip tint on your Cupid’s bow. You giggle as you nuzzle his nose when he pulls away, your hot breaths against one another’s lips providing a sense of comfort to you both. “What were you saying a while ago?”

“Ah, nothing.” Toji places a protective hand around your waist as the two of you walk to the nearby park for your and his usual after class/work stroll. “Just the usual profanity.”

Your lips curl into a soft pout at the thought of your boyfriend being upset about something. “Why?”

“Nothing babe,” he presses a soft kiss to your temple, his arm coming to rest on your shoulders. “Just lost at the boat races again,” he easily comes up with a white lie — a white lie that is bound to make you sad. He knows how upset you get when he relapses into his gambling addiction which, in his defense, he really is trying to quit for his and your — mostly your — sake. “Ah, I’ll do better, squirt. ‘m sorry.”

“Please?” you plead with him softly to which he nods, softly pinching your cheek in a silent promise to try to limit his gambling to…

…Getting tomorrow’s color right.

The next day, Toji spends about fifteen minutes in the shower trying to figure out what color you’d be wearing today. He’s already ruled out the possibility of you wearing black since it’s thirty degrees outside today, but with your extensive wardrobe, crossing out one color from the list is hardly enough to narrow it down. He’s never felt like this with boat races before since he has this natural tendency to just pick the boat with the most stable engine.

Ah, who was he kidding? He’ll just have to guess…and hope for the best, he steps out of the shower a few minutes of deliberation later.

After putting on a black shirt, he looks at his makeshift gambling ticket on the kitchenette counter with an angry look on his face. “Red. It has to be red.” He jots it down next to today’s date in red ink as if to manifest you’ll wear your off-shoulder red top today and those black trousers you bought from that thrift store in Harajuku last week.

Suddenly, a knock rips through the silence of his apartment and he goes to immediately answer the door. Toji clasps his hand around the doorknob for a bit, somehow still intent on delaying the inevitable. “Toji? The bags are getting kinda heavy,” you sheepishly called from the other side of the door and your boyfriend instantly snaps out of it. He swings the door open a little too aggressively that it makes you jump a bit when you hear the ear-splitting screech of the hinges nearly coming off the door. “Ah…hi, babe?”

You don’t know what to make of Toji’s face.

It’s like he’s feeling an odd mix of emotions all piled into one that they somehow cancelled each other out and now, he’s…staring at you…blankly. You have to admit, it looks a little funny. It’s not his usual stoic expression, it’s just pure…nothingness…like he caught a glimpse of the void or something and he can’t peel his eyes away from it.

“Can I come in—?”

“—Hi.”

“Eh?”

You burst out laughing at his delayed response. It’s like your boyfriend buffered for a full minute there which is so unlike him, considering he’s always so smoothly unbothered and suave in his demeanor. Toji scowls when you place a hand over his forehead. “You feeling okay?”

Toji gently shrugs your hand away, nodding absentmindedly. “Fine.” That sounded awfully peachy but you didn’t mind, Toji’s normally so awkward anyway, unbeknownst to most. In the eyes of those who don’t know him, Toji’s image is nothing short of a big, bad delinquent, but in your eyes, you mostly associate him with a typical house cat — quiet and snooty in every regard but actually genuinely affectionate. “Oh, let me help you with those.” He crouches down to help you with the groceries, sneakily stealing a kiss from you as you remove your shoes at the genkan before stepping into the living room.

Toji watches as you bound over to his apartment’s balcony, searching for the stray cat that normally drops by in the afternoon, with a grimace on his face.

“Of course she’s wearing beige,” he grumbles under his breath. Again, he crosses out today’s entry a little more forcefully this time.

At the balcony, you find Toji’s pet emeritus lounging away at the foot of the laundry rack. “Oh, there you are!” You crouch down and pet the white cat whom Toji affectionately refers to as ‘Yuki’ when he thinks you aren’t listening in whenever he feeds it after dinner. “You look like you could use a warm bath, come on!” You gently pick up the little creature and bring her inside. “Toji, I found Yuki~!”

You stop in your tracks when you see Toji with his forehead pressed to the cold marble counter causing you to instinctively place a comfort hand on his upper back to placate him while Yuki climbs atop the counter. At the familiarness of your touch, Toji, who looks like he’s still upset over some unknown thing he won’t tell you, rights his posture. What’s a man gotta do to get a winning streak around here?

“Hey, maybe you should lie down…”

“…I’m okay,” Toji half-whimpers, defeated, gaping at Yuki as she licks her paw contentedly. “Huh. You brought the fleabag in here?”

Somehow offended by that, Yuki violently hisses at him.

Okay, something is seriously wrong with Toji.

You just came out from using the washroom to see Toji on the kotatsu agitatedly scribbling on a piece of paper that doesn’t exactly look like a betting stub. You surmised it would have been something like that since Toji doesn’t normally get angry over anything except losing money on bets, but you are thoroughly surprised and comforted to see that wasn’t the case this time around. You sit down next to him, pulling your big baby into an embrace.

“My poor baby,” you teased amid Toji’s obvious misery. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” you smiled softly when he playfully pushes you down onto the tatami mats, all his weight pinning you down, his hand easily overwhelming yours as he pins them above your head. You try to squirm away from him, laughing when his other hand secures your hip to the floor, rendering you unable to struggle against him. Then, he lowers his lips close to your ear, his warm breath sending goosebumps to appear all over your skin, he sighs, falling slack at the crook of your neck.

Toji hates this, he probably looks like a kicked dog right now.

Today’s bet was yellow but when you opened the door to your apartment, you were wearing a mint green sweater over your cream relaxed fit ankle pants.

“Why can’t I do it? Why can’t I just win for once?” Toji’s voice is muffled as he buries his face in your shoulder. Instantly, you feel a pit form in your stomach. You’ve heard this before. You slowly push him off of you, your disappointment palpable in the way you utter your next words.

“Toji, you’ve been…gambling again, haven’t you? Baby, we talked about this.”

Your lover steadies the movements of his chest, feeling the need to defend himself. He wasn’t gambling, quite the contrary really, the thought of wandering over to the horse races hasn’t crossed his mind since he started this harmless little game. But Rome wasn’t built in a day, and every so often, he relapses into these undertones of his gambling addiction particularly the crippling desire to win at least once, to guess just one daily color scheme right.

And he’ll let it go. He swears he’ll let it go.

“I know, but really, babe, I’m not—“

“—Really? Then, what’s this?” You shakily point to the folded up piece of paper on the kotatsu. He has to pinch himself to hold in his laughter when he sees just how cutely distressed you are over an unassuming crepe stall receipt. “Don’t you start laughing now!” You swat his arm.

“I’m not laughing, you brat!” Toji purses his lips together, thoroughly enamored by you right now. “You’re worrying over nothing, Y/N. Trust me.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pushing Toji’s face away when he tries to kiss you. You cheeky little brat. “But you’re acting so weird though…” You poke him relentlessly on the cheek to get him to come clean, and you dodge whenever he tries to playfully catch your index finger with his teeth. “Just tell me.”

“Nope.”

You climb onto his lap, hugging him.

“Please.”

A kiss is a good bribe right?

“Uh-uh.”

He returns the kiss with a loud smooch!

“I’ll break up with you.”

You whine when he flicks your forehead, leaving an obvious red mark on it.

“You won’t.”

Your little back and forth is interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Sighing, you finally let go of him. Looks like he isn’t going to budge. Toji gets up to answer the door, setting you down on the cushioned seat. Feeling a little bad when he glances back to see you still sulking about the issue, he subtly and intentionally allows the receipt to fall from his pocket knowing you’ll almost certainly go straight for it. He’ll just have to deal with your constant teasing for the next two weeks once you read the contents of the slip of paper. But he’d rather hear you laughing your heart out (even if it’s at his expense) than see you getting all anxious about him slipping back into his old destructive hobbies.

When you see the piece of paper falling like a leaf dancing in the wind, your eyes light up, and you crawl over to the spot where it’s fallen near the small bookshelf you have in the corner.

“Rakuten delivery.” Toji signs the courier’s clipboard, receiving your package. Just as he’s about to walk back into the living room to hand you your parcel, he stops in his tracks when he hears your cute chortles which you’re pathetically trying to subdue and a smirk appears on the corner of Toji’s lips.

Looks like the crisis has been averted for now.

“Wait, Toji…”

Toji pretends to not hear you, his fingers still buried in your sopping cunt, lusciously pushing in and out, your arousal coating his fingertips as he devours your lips in wanton need. You moan out his name again and he scowls when you reluctantly remove his fingers from your heat. “What? What is it?” What could possibly be so important?

You flush when he sensually licks his fingers clean, and you sit up, pulling down your skater skirt. “What’s an anniversary without a little surprise?” You kissed him on the lips, lingering for a bit, your eyes fluttering close as you taste your arousal on his tongue. “Mmh…”

“Just forget it.” Toji bucks his hips against yours, his clothed erection rubbing against your bare slit.

“No way. Just…wait here,” you kiss him again, boldly running your tongue over his bottom lip before pulling away and heading to the bathroom to get your surprise ready.

Toji groans in frustration, his head hitting the pillows he set down on the futon. After a few restless moments of him resisting the urge to fuck his hardened cock into his hand to finish himself off, he hears your melodious voice calling for him from down the hall.

A satisfied lopsided smirk appears on Toji’s lips, his eyes dark as he gazes at the most beautiful being in the world right now, shyly making her way towards him wearing nothing but an emerald silk robe. He licks his lips when he sees the outline of your nipples through the fabric, smirking as you sit down on the foot of the futon.

“All that for a silly little robe? What a letdown,” Toji smirks as he moves to untie the knot of your robe, only for you to slap his hand away.

“Uh-uh…you have to guess first.”

Toji gulps when you pull out the one thing he’s been agonizing over for the last few weeks from your robe’s hidden pocket. You grab a pen from the nearby bookshelf which he expertly catches when you throw it in his direction alongside the crumpled up piece of paper he’d been meaning to destroy for a while now.

“If you guess right, we could ditch the condom tonight. So do well,” you innocently bat your eyelashes at him.

Toji looks like he wants to jump off a ditch, the obvious tent in his sweatpants indicating just how hard he is right now. “No, don’t do this. Don’t fucking do this, Y/N…”

“…What color am I wearing tonight?”

[reachartwork]

PLEASE JUST LET ME EXPLAIN REDUX

AI {STILL} ISN'T AN AUTOMATIC COLLAGE MACHINE

I'm not judging anyone for thinking so. The reality is difficult to explain and requires a cursory understanding of complex mathematical concepts - but there's still no plagiarism involved. Find the original thread on twitter here; https://x.com/reachartwork/status/1809333885056217532

A longpost!

This is a reimagining of the legendary "Please Just Let Me Explain Pt 1" - much like Marvel, I can do nothing but regurgitate my own ideas.

You can read that thread, which covers slightly different ground and is much wordier, here; https://x.com/reachartwork/status/1564878372185989120

This longpost will; Give you an approximately ELI13 level understanding of how it works Provide mostly appropriate side reading for people who want to learn Look like a corporate presentation

This longpost won't; Debate the ethics of image scraping Valorize NFTs or Cryptocurrency, which are the devil Suck your dick

WHERE DID THIS ALL COME FROM?

The very short, very pithy version of *modern multimodal AI* (that means AI that can turn text into images - multimodal means basically "it can operate on more than one -type- of information") is that we ran an image captioner in reverse.

The process of creating a "model" (the term for the AI's ""brain"", the mathematical representation where the information lives, it's not sentient though!) is necessarily destructive - information about original pictures is not preserved through the training process.

The following is a more in-depth explanation of how exactly the training process works. The entire thing operates off of turning all the images put in it into mush! There's nothing left for it to "memorize". Even if you started with the exact same noise pattern you'd get different results.

SO IF IT'S NOT MEMORIZING, WHAT IS IT DOING?

Great question! It's constructing something called "latent space", which is an internal representation of every concept you can think of and many you can't, and how they all connect to each other both conceptually and visually.

CAN'T IT ONLY MAKE THINGS IT'S SEEN?

Actually, only being able to make things it's seen is sign of a really bad AI! The desired end-goal is a model capable of producing "novel information" (novel meaning "new").

Let's talk about monkey butts and cigarettes again.

BUT I SAW IT DUPLICATE THE MONA LISA!

This is called overfitting, and like I said in the last slide, this is a sign of a bad, poorly trained AI, or one with *too little* data. You especially don't want overfitting in a production model!

To quote myself - "basically there are so so so many versions of the mona lisa/starry night/girl with the pearl earring in the dataset that they didn't deduplicate (intentionally or not) that it goes "too far" in that direction when you try to "drive there" in the latent vector and gets stranded."

Anyway, like I said, this is not a technical overview but a primer for people who are concerned about the AI "cutting and pasting bits of other people's artworks". All the information about how it trains is public knowledge, and it definitely Doesn't Do That.

There are probably some minor inaccuracies and oversimplifications in this thread for the purpose of explaining to people with no background in math, coding, or machine learning. But, generally, I've tried to keep it digestible. I'm now going to eat lunch.

Post Script: This is not a discussion about capitalists using AI to steal your job. You won't find me disagreeing that doing so is evil and to be avoided. I think corporate HQs worldwide should spontaneously be filled with dangerous animals.

Cheers!

[hellsslibrary]

Sorry, I love your content...

Could you write headcanons about Chigiri sending Dom!male!reader nude pictures that he? I can imagine it working up to them screwing everytime~

The most beautiful photos are taken with love... Or lust. But with obviously good thoughts in mind.

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : YES. He is such a model, I swear. Have you ever seen an ugly Chigiri? That's right, you wouldn't even dream of such a thing in your nightmares.

!!Warnings: top!dom!male!reader (although everyone can read, the reader just has a boner, but the reader has no pronouns and no interactions with the boner either, Lol), sub!bratty!Chigiri, photo description mentioning sex toys and various clothes, mentioning video and voice messages (erotic), Chigiri the devil in the flesh, otherwise everything is cool.

What can I say? He would.

I think he generally likes to take pictures. It doesn't matter what. Landscapes, other people, animals on the street, you, some random stuff... And himself, of course.

Most of them are just photos with some new hairstyle that he invented himself or looked on the Internet. Or maybe in some clothes that he found attractive. But he has one folder in his phone that is closed...

There are some personal photos in this folder, of course. Starting from any ordinary topless photos, ending with the ones that he definitely would not want anyone else to see.

It's just a photo of him standing naked in front of a mirror. Some erotic photos in your clothes. A photo where he hides behind something so as not to show the sweetest. Maybe some photos with sex toys inside him, on him, in his hands... Or maybe there are pictures in slightly feminine clothes that he would never have worn if you hadn't literally given him one of them one day, and then another and another.

And fuck, he's good. Divinely good. He could have been a model and a photographer all rolled into one, and he would have succeeded. The light falls perfectly on each of his photos, he stands in just the perfect pose, and everything else looks perfect too, even if he didn't really think about it.

He just can't turn out badly in the photo. And he uses it brazenly.

And he sends these photos to you at any moment, which is why you've learned to always look at photos from Chigiri while hiding your phone screen, buddy.

Chigiri would absolutely not be shy about any of your reactions, really. It doesn't matter if you would have reacted embarrassingly, joyfully, or completely depraved. The main thing is that you like it.

He would even tease you.

He would send you some photos, like these arts "take off his pants/shirt/etc" on Twitter for likes. Maybe he would send you a video where he would make sure that his hands were moving over your favorite places on his body... If he's feeling too teasing today, he might even send you a voicemail.

There won't be anything too surprising or completely enticing about this voicemail. He just knows exactly what words to use and how. And if you don't have a boner from the photo? Definitely from his whisper. (This man can even whisper a advanced mathematical analysis to me, I'll just thank him)

And he won't finish until he's sure you're horny and at least a little desperate wherever you are. Until he is convinced that you will come and see with your own eyes what he looks like and what he does.

Well, the only exception is if you are in another country or city, but there are video calls, of course.

But it always leads to sex. Now that these images are literally imprinted in your brain, you just can't come alone, no matter how much you want to. It won't be what you want.

And not what he wants.

So he always acts innocent when you visit him, even if he sees an overly obvious boner in your pants.

And he continues to behave innocently every fucking time, as if he doesn't realize that such photos turn you on to hell. It was like he was sending a selfie, not a photo of his ass in the mirror.

And he definitely likes that you get more impatient with it. Maybe even more so, depending on your character. It doesn't matter if he likes that some of your traits stand out more and more.

I think he likes slower sex, but at times like this? He just wants you to fuck him to death for all the photos and everything else he could send you. And he will still tease you until you have no strength left or he has...

After the act, you hear a quiet "I won't do it again" while he yawns and settles on your chest after a shower. But really? This will happen again in about a week, a maximum of a month.

I want him to sit on my face ☹️ WHO SAID THIS.

[snowsinterlude]

🐇 - rich, stupid, dumb girl and her nerd boyfriend.

(coriolanus snow x bimbo reader)

summary: you loved your boyfriend just too much not to let him edge you in public

c.w: in public, reader is a bimbo, edging, fingering (f. recieving), oral (m. recieving), overstimulation, a bit of praising, dom coryo, at school sex, smut, nsfw, humiliation, explicit content, slightly degrading

mascara running down your eyes, lipstick kisses on his hips, abdomen and neck, your boyfriend had his hand on your head as he frowned at the pleasure and the perfect sight of having you bobbing your head on his dick.

your boyfriend was such a cute nerd, always giving you the right answers to tests that you were too stupid to answer for yourself. always kissing your lips behind the books shelves. always putting you on your knees and letting his fingers open your mouth as you looked up at him, too whiny cause he tried to get you to understand something your stupid brain couldn't bare.

you were just another stupid brain dead girl who's head was good but not in the right ways- he loved the way you eagerly sucked on his dick, getting him coated in your saliva and kissing his tip as if it was the most precious thing of your life. it was just curious to see someone so dumb using it's inteligence to reproduction purposes. of course, both of you didn't mean to reproduct, but if you were to have a son or daughter, you had to pray that he/she would be just as pretty as you- but not as inteligent.

the soft grunts he let out of his mouth were the prettiest thing you could hear. no matter how many soap operas your father made you watch, the prettiest sounds were made by his throat.

you didn't have a gag reflex. every ex boyfriend you had usually would go nuts because of it. but coryo was different.

your sweet, precious, nerdy boyfriend, was bigger than your average-sized-dick exes. you didn't care- i mean, what is a bit of gagging when his dick is hitting the back of your throat? it was delicious having the chance to taste him.

that's why you were on your knees now, under the library desk as he read (or tried) to read the books in front of him. your mouth was too eager, you seemed hungry for him, pillow plump lips with smeared lipstick engulfing all you could of his inches, every single one could fit into your throat- fuck the gag reflex. you wanted him to the brim.

your thinking was delayed by his sweet words, the sweet tone of his voice cussing you for being so good at sucking a dick but being so horrible with mathematics.

"god, you're so pretty, doll. how can you be so hungry for dick?" he asked, and you moaned against his dick, incapable of giving him any proper answers. "keep going like that, okay? once i'll cum- fuck, we'll come back to studying."

"'don't wanna" you said, muffled by his cock.

"i didn't asked if you want, baby. you will." he said, pulling you by your hair to get you away from his dick. he kissed you, lips and tongue on yours. "now, sit by my side, okay?"

and you obeyed, pouting and trying to clean the lipstick stains off your lips.

his hand went to your thigh after he put his dick back inside his clothes. "c'mon, tell me. do you know the answer to that?" he pointed to a question on the book, something about maths. your worst grades were in this one class.

"i don't." you said, pouting. "c'mon, cory! let me make you cum." you begged, cleaning off the mascara stains now. "don't be such a meanie." you said, blinking your doe eyes.

"nope. answer at least one of those." and you tried, really. but then his fingers were on your damped panties going up and down your slick and you couldn't seem to think anymore. how mean of him.

"i-i don't know, coryo- stop that, if you keep on edgin' then i won't be capable of answerin'-" you slurred, almost crying from the way he was teasing you. he knew you couldn't answer things like that. not in that state.

"c'mon, doll. you know better than that." he said, and you melted almost right away.

"i don't. i swear!" you said, feeling him pull your panties to the side so he could have a better access to you.

"well, i guess you won't be cummin' today. what a shame." he said, thrusting his fingers slowly into you, curling them inside your tight cunt.

"please don't- coryoo, let me cum, please!" you begged, awkwardly bucking against his fingers only to end up mewling into his sudden kiss.

"i kissed you just because you're too loud. you know that the library doesn't permit such lewd actions of love as to kissing."

"you're f..fingering me."

"nuh-uh, i'm trying to teach you the basics of mathematics by pushing you to an edge." he said, kissing your cheek. "but if you're not answering, then maybe i should just stop."

he threatened to pull his fingers out of you, which didn’t happen due to your relentlessly bucking to his fingers. "n-no, i'll answer it! i will!-"

"then do it." he said, his thumb on your clit. "what is the second most read book in the world?"

"d...dom quixote?" you dared, mewling into his fingers, noticing how wet you were by the sounds your pussy was making on him. he gave you a proud smile, getting quicker with his fingers and promptly taking them off you when a teacher passed close by.

he sucked on those fingers, humming about how good you tasted. "such a sweet girl, it isn't even difficult to tell that you're the sweetest in taste too." he said, adjusting your pantiesnas you breathed heavily.

he's such a meanie. spent the whole day teasing you. fingering, grinding, humping, he didn’t got quiet until he accompanied you home, and now, your hands were on the wall as he pounded into you, making sure you felt every single inch of his dick inside you.

"c-cory, you'll let me cum, right? you spent the whole day- fuck! t-teasing me, edging me!" you slurred.

he nodded, kissing your neck. "promise i'll let you, doll. just keep yourself quiet. you don't want your parents to see what a slut you are, do you?"

"n-no, i don't!" you answered, holding all your moans by biting your bottom lip.

"princess," he called you "you don't need to stop moaning. just be good and less louder okay?" you nodded as an answer. the moans you let out after that, were soft grunts, hard to be held as he kept on pounding into you, even harder when his hand found your cunt again, his index on your clit.

"st-stop, coryo. it's gettin' harder to-" another moan, this time due to how he pinched your clit. "s-stop!"

"oh you want me to?"

"n-no, but-"

"no but's. you know you want it. tell me, doll. what do you want?"

"c-cum. want to cum." you begged. "please."

"hm,, i don't really want to end it right now." his pace became quicker; his lips on your shoulder and his words on your ear.

"please. just this once." you tried again, your cunt tightening around him as he pounded slowly inside you.

it was torturing. you could feel your core clenching, his dick throbbing inside you and still he didn’t want to make you cum. he was taking you over the edge.

with that in mind for the next reason you would fight with him, you trembledand squirmed when his dick kissed your uterus just the right way- when he hit the sweetest spots in your cunt that just him knew about.

you cried your eyes out, bucking against him and letting him bury himself into you- it was just too good not to let him do it. and then you were ready to cum all of your pent-up sexual teasing over his dick, and that's what you did, letting his cock be coated with your cum and moaning as you felt his cum going directly into you. rope after rope, spurt after spurt, you were filled up completely by his cum, and he quickly adjusted your panties in the right direction, kissing your temple.

"be a doll and sleep with those hm? full." he said, tapping your ass and kissing you goodbye.

being stupid with those thoughts of yours, you quickly forgot about what he said, and he knew, somehow- because on the next day he fucked you and stuffed his seed into you, he made sure to not let anything leak when he shoved your panties into you.

"don't forget about it this time." and he kissed you again, this time, you oveyed promptly and slept with his cum inside your cunt..

[babeyun]

out of my head ✮ l.hs [m]

✮ synopsis: years after your friendship with heeseung has begun crumbling, you ask him to be part of one of the biggest days of your life - your wedding day.

✮ genre: estranged best friends to ??? ; semi-unrequited lovers au ; angst ; fluff

✮ pairing: singer!lee heeseung x financial advisor!fem!reader ; sim jaeyun x reader

✮ word count: 10.4k (yikes...)

✮ rating: nc-17.

✮ warning(s): ...kissing? lol? a lot of hurt with no comfort, semi-unrequited lovers, wedding superstitions, mentions of having kids.

✮ playlist: off my face - justin bieber ; are we still friends? - tyler, the creator ; your eyes only - enhypen ; this is why i need you - jesse ruben.

✮ a/n: i'm a yapper sorry, but happiest birthday to heeseung <3 that's my pookie! i love u.

four months ago.

"you're getting married?"

you and heeseung had been best friends for nearly twenty years. the two of you met at a park during a winter storm, both of you having begged your mothers for a chance to go see the snow. a coincidence really, the two of you having somehow lived the same experience (one that heeseung was convinced was fate, while you just boiled it down to two four-year-old kids giving into the natural urge to plunge their grubby little fingers into cold, unforgiving snow.)

however, in the last few years, you'd grown apart. 

you were freshly out of university, and heeseung had recently taken a job as a backup vocalist for one of the local entertainment companies. he'd been a singer his entire life, something you never allowed yourself to pick up because your mother had always taught you that safety nets were better. while heeseung openly explored his talents, eventually learning guitar and slowly, piano - you buried yourself in mathematical equations that made your brain hurt but forced yourself through it all because, after all, you needed a plan.

heeseung lived life on the edge. he didn't care if he had money, if he had belongings - life was more than that to him. he ventured out into the city with nothing but his headphones sometimes, not even so much as bothering to bring an umbrella if it looked like rain. "if i get soaked, i get soaked! life is more than staying inside with your head heavy from studying." he told you once, and you had just shaken your head.

"come on, y/n! don't you want to dance in the rain? don't you want to risk getting sick and having your mom make you that soup you really like? live a little, life is too short to waste away in our bedrooms." he tugged you out of your house that day, making you leave your phone behind as you trekked the entire city by foot, and once the rain did start falling, you were a mile from your house. "heeseung, i can't get sick! i have a presentation–"

"screw that presentation! live in the now!" he held you close as the rain pelted your backs, spinning you around as your laughter echoed in the neighborhood. "isn't this fun! aren't you enjoying this newfound freedom, no expectations? no logarithms, no polynomials!" he exclaimed, making you only laugh harder. "hee, i'm a finance major. that is fun for me!"

"and i'm a y/n major, i know you fucking hate math!" he giggled as he set you down, his fingers brushing your wet hair off your face. "i don't have things like you do, hee! i need a plan, i need something to fall back on. you work to make money to invest into yourself, you don't follow dreams!" you say as the two of you make the route back to your house, making him scoff.

"are you saying i'm wasting my time living the way i do?" he asked, a twang of hurt in his voice going unnoticed by you as you nodded. "i do. i think you are wasting your potential." your words pierced him, but he said nothing more as the two of you reached your mom's house. "see you later, hee."

"see you later."

that had happened three years ago. heeseung noticeably distanced himself after that day, limiting your hangouts to once a week instead of dropping by whenever he felt like it. soon, what were weekly hangouts became biweekly, before you were only meeting him for dinner on a random wednesday night in the middle of the month. you never asked so he never explained, and he simply assumed your silence on the subject meant that your puzzle of a life no longer had a need for a lee heeseung-shaped piece.

it pained him to think that you were outgrowing him.

heeseung was taking classes while working, having finally let your words get to him. you were right, in a way - he couldn't live his life on the edge forever, but the fact that you actually said that to him after constantly reassuring him that you believed in him was...unexpected, to say the least.

"she's just worried about you, hee." his older brother rattled, and heeseung shook his head. he had long told him about that day, and continued to try and decipher it for the years after. he didn’t really understand why it bothered him so much, but his only guess was the same — you had pretended to have an interest in his life, but yet, just like everyone else…

…you had no faith in him.

“yes, hee, i’m getting married! focus!” you tapped your pen on the notepad in front of you, the ice in your matcha long melted. heeseung was gripping his mug of hot chocolate for dear life, wondering where he missed the fact that you were even in a relationship to begin with. “i didn’t even know you had a boyfriend, forgive me for being curious.” he scoffs, making you roll your eyes.

“you would know if you answered any of my calls.” you say pointedly, making him groan. “okay, sorry i’ve been so absent from your life. what’s this guy’s name anyway?”

“sim jaeyun. you can call him jake.” you scribble something onto the notepad, before tearing it off and handing it to him. “this is his number, you’re going to have to talk to him at some point for what i’m about to ask you.”

your smile is mischievous, one that heeseung could never forget. it was engraved in his memory, it lit up his dreams and haunted his nightmares. the same smile he’s written endless lyrics about, the same smile he’s fallen in love with but refused to admit it.

“y/n, i haven’t seen you in six months. how can someone possibly gauge if a person is marriage material in such a short time?” he argues as he folds the scrap of yellow paper. you huff with a frustrated look on your face, “jaeyun and i have been seeing each other for a year! we made it official nine months ago, and we’ve been engaged for three months! i told you this already!”

“when the fuck did you even mention him!?” he groans, and you click your pen angrily.

"hee, if you hadn't been so focused on your own life, you'd be up to date with mine." grimacing, you reach into the knapsack you brought with you. pulling out a pink binder, you set it on the table, facing him. the paper sheet behind the vinyl reads the sims - may 2026. 

he snorts inwardly, before you open the binder. "i know we haven't been as close as we'd like the past few years." you start, clearing your throat as he glances at you. you pull apart the binder rings, pulling out a folder as you continue to speak. "but, i know that you're still doing the singing thing, and i wanted to offer you a gig."

sliding the folder across to him, he glances down at it. it's thick with pieces of printer paper, lyrics typed neatly in times new roman. he recognizes the first song as he slips it out of the folder, his eyes scanning the sheet over and over. 

"you want me to sing at your wedding?" he asks incredulously, and you take a sip of your watered down matcha. you press your lips together as you nod, staring at your fingers. "i showed jaeyun some clips of yours from a few of your other gigs, and he really liked it. this is our song, and we want you to sing it for our first dance." you tap the paper with your pen, and heeseung sighs.

"then why are we here alone? why isn't he here, showing face and asking me with you?" he accuses, and your frown is deep enough that he's sure you're about to throw your drink at him. "he's at work, if you must know. he's busy."

"and what does he work in that he can't come with his future wife to a measly two-hour lunch?" he taps his finger on the table, his eyes boring into yours, searching for any sign of the best friend he'd become estranged from. you weren't there.

"he's..." you bite your lip, staring at whatever was behind him in order not to meet his eyes. he looks at you pointedly, brows raised in expectation - a look he'd always hated from other people. you grimace before responding. "he's a singer, he's recording his album right now." heeseung blinks slowly, something you knew meant he was about to either get up and leave, or he was going to scold you once he processed the information. your best friend was nothing short of an open book, but as he looked down at the sheet in his hand and shook his head, you suddenly couldn't read him anymore.

"after all the shit you gave me." his tongue drips with poison before he shoves the sheet of paper back in the folder, tapping it with his hand before grimacing. "when is the wedding? do i have to be there for the whole thing?" his eyes are full of fire as he stares at you, and you can feel yourself shrink under his gaze. heeseung was rarely ever mad at you, even during these years of estrangement. you were never really on the receiving end of his anger, so you never handled it. "may second. you don't have to stay, if you don't want to. but i'd love for you to be there." your words are softer than you intended, and you can really feel the tug on the invisible string that ties the two of you together.

he nods, pressing his lips together as you watch his eyes brim with tears. "okay." he looks away as the first tear falls, wiping it away quickly before getting up. "just…send me the address when the time comes." he tucks the folder under his arm as he quickly walks away, trying not to let any more tears fall as he exits the cafe.

he can't help but hold everything in as he walks to his apartment, his mind spinning with potential thoughts. when did you get so far? how did he let you stray so deeply, and where did you even meet this guy? why didn't you tell him sooner? or did you, and he just blocked it out? he can't remember, no matter how hard he skims his memory. "fuck!" he screams as he slams his door shut, throwing the folder onto the table in the foyer. 

he slides down the door, a sinking feeling taking over his stomach as he hits the cold tile. he can't help but sob into his hands, his shoulders shaking violently as he does. you're getting married and he missed the entire thing, he's missed the past year of your life and has no remorse in doing so. he only feels sorry now, now that he's realized he's too late.

april 30.

heeseung was increasingly stressed.

you had told him over text (because he wouldn't answer your calls) that he had to take the week off so he could participate in bonding activities with your fiancé's groomsmen. he'd been reluctant, and said he'd get there the thursday before the wedding, nothing sooner – making you upset. he didn't care, he wouldn't lie to himself – he felt betrayed that you were getting married to someone else. it was childish of him and he knew it, but as he aimlessly wandered jeju island alone – it only sank deeper into his bones that he had truly fucked up.

he didn't bother to bond with any of your bridesmaids, either – despite their starry eyes and warm smiles, he could only see the dread in your eyes, the twitch in your lower lip as you greeted your guests with your fiancé. he kept his hand on your lower back at all times, and heeseung wonders if jake knows that he did that in the past. heeseung wonders if jake knows that he held your hand as you both skipped through the sand on family vacations with your families, heeseung wonders if jake knows that he shared a bed with you on nights where thunderstorms would scare you out of your sleep and heeseung would run the three blocks to your house to comfort you.

heeseung wonders if jake knows that he was your first kiss, in the back of heeseung's '96 civic when you were both juniors in high school. heeseung wonders if jake knows that he is in love with you, and that he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to stop.

not that jake knowing any of this would matter, because come saturday night, you'd be out of his grasp forever. he would never place his hand on the small of your back to ease your nerves, he would never hold your hand, he would never share a bed with you. he would never kiss you again, and he'd rather never see you again if it were up to him.

but it wasn't, was it? "heeseung! you made it!" 

heeseung turns to see park sunghoon walking towards him with his hand shielding his eyes from the sun. "oh shit, hey! i didn't think you and y/n kept in touch after high school, it's great to see you." heeseung greets him, and sunghoon snorts. 

"we didn't, actually. jaeyun and i go way back." sunghoon nods. sunghoon had been a friend of the two of you, but it was hard to keep in touch due to his prominent ice skating career. he was always busy, and it was easier to cut ropes than continuously make promises to see each other only to fall short.

"i'm sorry i didn't reach out more." heeseung starts, but sunghoon shakes his head. "don't even worry about it! my life was too crazy to keep tabs on everybody." sunghoon shakes his head, and heeseung tilts his head at him. "was?" sunghoon shifts in the sand, picking his cuticles as he sighs. "i had to quit, i got injured pretty badly during the finale of my last competition. i won, though, so at least i went out with a bang." he shrugs, and heeseung can see the disappointment in his eyes before offering a hug. "i'm sorry, hoon. that really fucking sucks."

sunghoon rejects the hug with a shake of his head. "it's fine, i'm doing other things now. i work as a backup vocalist for jake, me and jay. oh, jay's here, too! have you seen him?" sunghoon gestures to the air, and heeseung offers a small smile before shaking his head. "haven't seen him yet. to be honest, i don't want to be here." heeseung's confession, if surprising, doesn't seem to faze sunghoon. instead, the younger boy nods. "i figured you wouldn't. you're singing for them, right? i heard through the grapevine." sunghoon smirks, and heeseung rolls his eyes before lightly punching his arm. "stop lying, you brat. you read it on the wedding program."

sunghoon gives him a soft pat on the back, before leaning closer. "she wasn't going to wait forever, heeseung." with a curt nod, sunghoon continues down the beach towards the resort, leaving heeseung with wide eyes and a heavy heart. what did he mean by that?

🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊

the night was heavy as the last of your guests straggled in, and your feet were swelling in your shoes from standing for so long. jake had offered to take over as you went up to your room to change them, and you were internally thanking him as you hobbled to the elevator.

only for you to arrive and see your best friend waiting there calmly, headphones over his ears as he softly nods along to whatever is playing. he looks up when the elevator finally opens, completely oblivious to your lingering presence behind him. it's only when you get in after him, feeling the shift of the elevator's floor, that he looks at you.

his eyes are unreadable as he skims them over your face, a soft tilt to his head before he presses button six, hand hovering over the button as he waits for you to speak. you put up five fingers, and he presses it carefully as the doors close. it's silent, and for the first time ever since you were four years old, heeseung feels like a stranger. a polite stranger that presses the elevator button for you, that has come all the way from seoul on a ferry to sing at his estranged best friend's wedding.

except he's not a stranger, and you're the estranged best friend getting married this weekend. you're the estranged best friend who lied about your fiancé being excited for him to sing your first dance song, and you're the estranged best friend who wants it to hurt him. you want it to hurt, seeing you dance with your soon-to-be husband all night,  you want it to burn in his chest when the two of you kiss at the end of the aisle.

you want him to ache as badly as you did when he basically abandoned you for no good reason. you want him to stay up all night in tears like you did when he wouldn't answer your calls, you want him to rant passionately about you to whoever gets the privilege of being his girlfriend like you did to jake when the two of you first started dating, and you want him to ignore the questions of if you're in love with each other.

just like you did.

loving heeseung was a thing of the past. he was out of your heart and out of your head, for the most part. you only ever thought of him when you'd talk to jake about old high school stories, skipping over the parts where you and heeseung shared loving caresses that the two of you convinced yourselves were nothing more than platonic. it didn't matter now, though, because there was no piece shaped like you in heeseung's puzzling life anymore.

you love jake. he's your endgame, and you're glad to be marrying him.

"are you excited? big day soon." he says gently, and you can feel your stomach turn as he nudges you with his elbow. you nod, a small smile on your lips as you glance down at your engagement ring. jake had it custom made, a marquise diamond nestled onto a thick gold band. it was a little tight, but you promised yourself you'd get it resized after the wedding.

"very excited. are you nervous? about your performance, i mean?" you ask, genuine concern in your voice as he shakes his head. "just another gig, really. it's special to you, though, so i've been putting my all into the rehearsals." he itches his neck, a nervous tick you'd picked up on through the years. you nod, patting his shoulder gently. the conversation stops as the elevator does, the number five on the elevator's neon sign. 

"my stop. i'll see you at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow, right? you need to be there." your eyes are pleading, and heeseung can't help but sigh. "i'll try." 

the answer doesn't seem to satisfy you, but you nod anyway, turning on your heels to go to your room. the doors close, and he lets out a shaky breath. you're very excited to marry sim jaeyun in less than thirty-six hours. you're very excited to be mrs. sim, you're very excited to have your first dance with your husband to the sound of your best friend's voice singing the song that reminds you and jake of your relationship. 

a song that insinuates the two of you are unbelievably high off each other in every which way, and how ruined one of you has made the other for anybody else. but this song doesn't take into consideration how he is ruined for anyone else, how he is in pieces at the mere thought of you wearing white while meeting someone else down the aisle.

he doesn't want to feel like that anymore.

may 01.

"hey! you must be heeseung, i've been waiting forever to meet you!" 

heeseung doesn't recognize the voice as he turns, eyes swollen with sleep when he looks to see you, and who he presumes to be sim jaeyun. he nods absently, before glancing at his cup of hot water. he'd stumbled down to the hotel's complimentary lounge, a packet of fennel mint tea in his hand.

"give me a moment, i'm sorry. i'm barely here." he apologizes sheepishly, tearing the bag open and dipping the bag into the cup. he wipes at his eyes once more, before turning to face a smiling jake. "you're jaeyun, right? nice to finally meet you man, y/n has said some awesome things about you."

lies. heeseung doesn't remember a single thing you have ever said about jake, just that he's a singer. but out of courtesy, and jake's business-like grip on his hand, he smiles through it anyway. "i heard that you asked for me specifically. your wedding song is beautiful." heeseung sees you wince out of the corner of his eye as jake looks a bit taken aback. he tilts his head slightly, but goes along with what heeseung now knows is a lie. "i'm glad you could make it. y/n talks a lot about your singing skills, are you working on any projects right now?" your face is pained as heeseung looks you dead in the eyes, "no, i'm just a backup vocalist. i gave up on that dream a while ago." he looks back at jake, who has a sad smile on his face. "the fame, the money…i was never suited for that life, anyway." "i'm sorry to hear that things didn't work out for you." jake sounds genuine, a flash of sadness in his eyes as he shakes heeseung's hand again. "i hope to see you at the rehearsal tonight. have you got a girlfriend? there'll be quite a few people at our singles' table." jake wiggles his brows and heeseung wonders when you're going to speak.

"actually, heeseung won't be able to stay. he's got another gig on sunday." you lie, and jake's eyes widen. "oh, you'll be missing our reception?" "i'll be leaving right after your dance, i do sincerely apologize." heeseung gives jake a sheepish grin, to which jake nods slowly. "that's unfortunate, there's a lot of people you could network with here! take advantage of it, dreams are meant to become reality." jake finalizes, before giving heeseung another warm smile.

"i will do my best! thank you for having me." heeseung says, and you can feel the fake tone of happiness in his voice seep into your bones. you'd been the only person to ever recognize it, and heeseung knows you're aware he used it as he takes the tea bag out of his mug. "i will see you both tonight." 

he spins on his heel as he hears jake whisper to you.

"you asked him to sing our song? when? why didn't you tell me?" "we can talk about this later, okay? he's really good, i promise."

🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊

your mother had been staring at heeseung for the last fifteen minutes, and heeseung was almost sure she was trying to figure out if he was who she thought he was. he gave her a small smile and waved, and the moment her eyes lit up, the person in front of her turned.

jake. he frowns as she walks away from him mid-conversation, stumbling over only moments before the rehearsal dinner is set to start.

"sorry, sweetie. i didn't know you and my y/n finally made up! it's so good to see you!" her embrace is crushing, and heeseung doesn't have the heart to tell your mother that you're a horrible liar. you hadn't 'made up' – he was simply doing you a favor, something else you'd lied about. he just smiles as she pulls back, ruffling his hair gently. "love the red, it really suits you." "thank you, auntie. it's nice to see you again." he remains relaxed as he sees her eyes soften. "what's wrong? not ready to see your little girl walk down the aisle?" he teases, and the older woman sighs inwardly. she turns, her shoulder brushing his as they stare into the room full of tipsy bridesmaids and boisterous groomsmen. "if i admit something to you, you'll keep it quiet, right?" she murmurs, and heeseung suddenly feels like this conversation isn't going to be one that favors his unruly feelings for you. "of course, auntie. who am i to tell?" "i always thought you'd be the one to marry my y/n." she sighs, clasping her hands in front of her as her eyes watch jake speaking to you gently as he hands you a glass of wine. heeseung's eyes follow hers and the two of them can see as your face falls and jake quickly moves to hide you from any lingering gazes. "i should go see what's wrong. it's nice to see you, heeseung. please enjoy the wedding!" he nods as your mother quickly crosses the room, her arm around you as jake gets pushed to entertain the guests while you get taken care of. jake looks nervous, and heeseung can't seem to stop his body as he also crosses the room, a small smile on his face. "good evening, jake." "oh, hey! how are you liking the venue so far?" a small flash of relief passes onto his face, and heeseung feels guilty as he shrugs. "it's what i expected for someone like y/n. so floral, so bright. are you sure you had any part in this?" he snickers, and jake laughs genuinely.

"she wouldn't let me even look at the flowers with her. babe, you're going to pick the wrong ones!" he imitates you, and heeseung shakes his head in amusement. you'd always been a bit of a control freak when it came to your visions, and now that your life revolved around financial decisions, you were wound up extra tight. "yeah, she's always been like that." he sighs, and jake doesn't miss the slight tone of sadness.

"listen, i don't know you very well," jake starts, reaching for a bottle of cabernet across the table. he grabs two glasses, uncorking the wine as he leans to pour. "but i want to say thank you." he holds the wine out to heeseung, and he tries not to look curious as he takes it.

"thank you for what?" heeseung asks, and jake gives him a pointed look as he blindly pours his own glass. 

"for taking care of y/n all these years. i know you and i probably won't be the best of friends, i'm the first to admit that i'm not very good at sharing her attention." jake grimaces to himself as he replaces the cork into the bottle. "but i'm glad that she has someone as reliable as you, that can just… be there for her. it's a beautiful thing, your friendship."

heeseung almost feels nauseous as jake continues talking about how sweet your lifelong friendship with him seems. it just confirms that you told jake everything and anything you could about it, and based on his mention of jealousy, that includes the first kiss you shared. he can barely hear jake over the sound of his heart beating in his ears, but understands enough when jake pats his shoulder.

"...and i figured i'd be honest. y/n didn't say anything about you singing our song, we had originally planned for sunghoon to sing it with the band we hired. i guess she thought you'd be better for it, and i trust her judgment." jake says, pulling heeseung back in. "oh, i'm sorry." "don't even worry about it, man. hey, why don't you just relax, enjoy the dinner tonight. tomorrow is going to hit us like a fucking train, we should be well rested today." jake nods, and heeseung reciprocates with a gentle smile as someone else calls for jake's attention. "remember, just chill! network!" jake gestures to the room as he walks backwards towards the people looking for him.

heeseung can't shake the nausea from his throat, setting down the glass of wine to wander to the bathroom. but, the hall seems to get longer and longer, the temperature changing from the cold air conditioning to the humid spring air. he can feel a breeze in his hair, and then he realizes he's on the beach. his feet are buried in the warm sand, shoes in his hand.

sighing, he reminds himself he can't zone out like that all the time. it's not healthy, you had told him once. what if you end up in the middle of nowhere?

he reaches into his pocket, pulled out his spare headphones. he was supposed to bond with everyone at your stupid rehearsal dinner, but he didn't care to do so as he stared at the crashing waves. plugging the headphones into his phone, he gently speaks to siri as he lays on his back, looking up at the cloudless sky.

"hey, siri. play are we still friends? by tyler, the creator."

he stares into the water as the song pours into his ears. he doesn't know where things went to shit, but he knows it's his fault. he should've told you that what you said hurt his feelings. he should have communicated, then maybe it'd be him sitting next you in the private jet your mother rented solely for your honeymoon escape after the reception.

maybe it'd be him spinning you around in your beautiful wedding dress, and whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you dance the night away. maybe it would be him, like your mom had hoped. maybe it would be him, like he had hoped, too.

his fingers dig into the sand as he swallows the lump in his throat. there is nothing in hell, heaven or earth that would stop you from trekking the aisle tomorrow afternoon. nothing would stop jake from kissing you tenderly right in front of him, and doing it for the rest of your lives. it would taunt him, it would haunt him like the ghost of your friendship. you weren't friends anymore, the two of you knew it. things would never be the same between you, and yet, neither of you was brave enough to ask the question.

why?

"heeseung! are you out here?!" he can hear sunghoon's voice over the fourth replay of the song, lowering the volume as he tilts his head to find him. "over here, what's up?" "what's up? they're waiting for you, man!" sunghoon is standing in the doorway of the resort, the soft breeze blowing his hair back as a bridesmaid also peers over his shoulder. heeseung sighs as he stands, wiping his pants of sand and shoving his phone into his pocket. he walks quickly, humming quietly to himself to semi-prepare his voice for the perfect delivery of the song you wanted him to sing.

everyone is chatting quietly around the tables as heeseung steps inside, running his fingers through his hair as he walks forward. your mother catches his eye, a concerned look on her face, but he can't hold eye contact. he faces the floor as he reaches the small stage the venue has set up for the band, jay perched on a stool holding a guitar.

"hey, hee. you ready?" he asks as he tucks in his in-ear monitor, and heeseung shrugs as he takes his place behind the microphone. only then does he notice that the chatter he heard was just two bridesmaids, kim sunoo, riki nishimura and yang jungwon – all friends of yours and jake's that he hadn't bothered to meet further than reading their names in the program. 

he watches silently as you and jake take the center of the dance floor, your eyes slightly reddened as you gingerly drape your arms over your fiancé. your smile doesn't fill your cheeks as jay begins playing softly.

heeseung takes a deep breath, and your eyes catch him as he begins to sing.

one touch, and you've got me stoned. higher than i've ever known…

you were both thirteen.

he remembers the way you held onto him the night that you lost your first mathletes competition. you cried so hard that you'd almost thrown up, and heeseung could only soothe you by dragging you to the nearest convenience store and shoving a melona popsicle in your hand. you went silent after that, gripping his hand tightly as he walked you home. you'd squeezed his hand three times that night, something he'd always done but you'd roll your eyes at.

"why would i squeeze your hand when i can just tell you, hee?"

you call the shots and i'll follow. sunrise, but the night's still young…

you were both seventeen. 

he remembers when you called him to come over while it was storming, because your mother was out of town. your house was a little over a mile away and normally, he didn't mind the walk. it was almost three in the morning, and he'd been sleeping when your ringtone went off for the third time. "hello?" "hee, please come over. it's storming so bad, i'm so–"

he hadn't even let you finish before ripping his bedsheets off his body and sprinting for the door. his clothes, his shoes, everything was soaking wet by the time he got to your house. you'd embraced him anyway, your own clothes soaking through as he trudged into your home – only for the storm to stop a few moments after his arrival.

no words, but we're speaking tongues. if you let me, i might say too much…

you were both twenty.

he remembers when you asked him, in the middle of your kitchen during your graduation party, if he could kiss you. the house was empty except for the two of you – his parents and your mom had decided to throw a joint party, using the excuse that two best friends should always stick together. your mom had sent you inside for more hor d'oeuvres, and you'd dragged him inside with the excuse that you couldn't carry them all yourself.

"you don't have to, hee. i'm sorry." your eyes were full of embarrassment as heeseung stared at you, a bit in shock at your question. only as you begin to move further into the kitchen does he register what you've said, and grabs your arm, pulling you toward him. "ask me again, i'm sorry. i zoned out, i thought you asked me to kiss you."

"i did." you repeated quietly, and heeseung blinked twice before nodding. "o-okay. yeah, i can do that." he cleared his throat, looking over your shoulder into the foyer to ensure no one was opening the door. 

"are you sure? i mean, it's your first kiss, wouldn't you want to have it with someone special?" he's rambling, and your gentle laugh pulls him right back.

"you are special, hee." 

without another word, he backed you up against your kitchen counter, his hands on your hips as he softly kissed you. your hands were on his biceps, and he could feel your nervousness seep through your locked lips. he carefully circles your thighs to lift you onto the counter, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck before he breaks the kiss.

"how was that? okay?" his eyes searched yours, a shy smile playing on his swollen lips as you blinked. "uh, i'm not sure. i think–" "you want to try again?" his head tilted to the side, a habit you loved and eventually also caught. you nodded silently. his smile was wide as he closed the gap between the two of you, the hands on your thighs squeezing softly. once, twice, three times.

i love you.

your touch blurred my vision. it's your world, and i'm just in it…

you're both twenty one.

he remembers how he stared at his bedroom ceiling, clothes soaked in rain from prancing around the city with you. how piercing your words were, how he thought for so long that you believed in him. how all of these events he can't stop thinking about, are about you. how proud he was of you, how lucky he was to have you, how insane it was that you wanted him. you wanted him at one point.

how he didn't care that he got sick, but certainly didn't understand why your sore throat and stuffy nose didn't make him feel a pang of distress. how he didn't care that no one else was refuting his talent, because they weren't you. he didn't care about anyone else in this world, but you.

even sober, i'm not thinking straight…

you're both twenty two.

he remembers his birthday going abhorrently wrong. you weren't there, per usual – you were too wrapped up with school to give heeseung a second thought. he'd long realized that he didn't want to lose you, but it seemed that you no longer cared to keep the friendship alive. he still has the messages he sent you, and is still amazed at the lack of typos despite being absolutely shitfaced.

message to: my y/n <3 [2022.10.15 | 11:23pm] it's my birthday, baby. [2022.10.15 | 11:24pm] you can't be here for me today? [2022.10.15 | 11:24pm] i miss you. i miss our friendship. [2022.10.15 | 11:26pm] i can't believe you're missing my birthday. i never miss your birthdays. [2022.10.15 | 11:30pm] is this it? are we done?  [2022.10.15 | 11:34pm] when will you come back to me? when, how much longer? [2022.10.15 | 11:35pm] when you graduate? i can wait. (not delivered!) [2022.10.15 | 11:47pm] just tell me how long. i'll wait. (not delivered!)[2022.10.16 | 12:02am] i'd wait forever for you (not delivered!)

he changed his number after that. he still doesn't know how you got his new one. he doesn't care to ask, either.

cause i'm off my face, in love with you…

you're both twenty five.

he's watching you slow dance with your fiancé, fingers interlaced behind his neck as jake's hands rest on your hips. he hates the jealousy that boils in his stomach, but doesn't bother to break eye contact with the tile on the ceiling with water damage.

i'm out my head, so into you…

he can feel his fingers tightening around the microphone stand, but can't seem to stop his eyes from averting as jake spins you gently, before your soft giggle hits his ears. you look up at jake with what he can only assume is adoration, before resting your cheek on his shoulder. you're looking right at heeseung, mouthing along to the song.

and i don't know how you do it…

you're fixing your posture instead, still staring at heeseung as jake takes your hand in his, kissing your knuckles. you instinctively smile at the feeling, and heeseung's eyes zero in on your fingers as you squeeze jake's hand.

once, twice, three times. i love you.

but i'm forever ruined by you, ooh, ooh, ooh.

"i love you." your eyes haven't left heeseung as you whisper the words, and you can see the way his eyes fill with fire as he looks away. you get a twisted feeling of satisfaction in your gut, before finally averting your eyes back to your fiancé. jake is smiling softly at you, and you quickly close the gap between you as heeseung continues to sing. your lips press against jake's smoothly, before he swiftly moves away. "i can't wait to marry you tomorrow." he whispers.

"me, too."

liar.

may 02.

the wedding is in twenty minutes.

your pantyhose has ripped, you tripped going up the stairs. you're not even wearing your dress yet. there are storm clouds gathering, and you can’t help but feel like everything in the universe is working against you. the only thing holding you together is your mother, her arms are wrapped tightly around you.

“are you sure we can’t just run away and elope?” you mumble into her shoulder, and your mother laughs. “not anymore. but,” she pulls away from you, cradling your face in her hands gently. “i love you, honey. everything will be okay.”

you hate the churn in your stomach at the word everything. because if everything were okay, it'd be sunny. if everything were okay, you'd be staring down an aisle full of people and only see heeseung at the end of it. if everything were okay, you would've never said yes to that first date.

“i love you.” you repeat, your hand resting on her wrists as you nod robotically. “i’ll see you out there, okay?”

“okay.” you breathe out shakily as she presses her lips to your hairline, lingering slightly before pulling away and leaving your room. you were alone now, and you glanced out the window at all the guests gathering on the beach. everyone is dressed so brightly, bunches of pinks and lilacs scattered across the sand. jake is waiting patiently at the end of the aisle, the forest green of his suit making his skin glow slightly brighter. how he does it, you don't know.

and then you see heeseung.

he’s dressed in black, despite the theme of the wedding being floral and natural. you grimace, forcing yourself to look away before spotting your dress hanging on the back of the door. you'd have to shimmy into it on your own, having sent everyone out in a fit of anxiety.

sighing, you unhook the heavy dress from the door, carefully letting the skirt pool on the floor as you step into it. it slides on perfectly, and you can't help but lose your breath at the sudden weight of the world on your chest. you're getting married, and you love jake.

but he'll never, ever be heeseung.

"tighten up, y/n. you've got this." you shake your head, reaching back and forcing the zipper up as high as you could. you had a hook-and-eye closure at the top, something you'd simply have to forego if you wanted to make it downstairs on time. groaning to yourself, you attempt to pull up the zipper just a bit more, before giving up and covering it with your veil. grabbing your bouquet, you give yourself a final glance in the mirror.

"you've got this. everything will be okay." 

your voice is shaky, but you swing your room door open anyway – only to be met with heeseung on the other side. his eyes widen, mouth slightly agape as you come into his view. "wow, you look…" "what are you doing here? you're supposed to be downstairs." you scold, shoving your keycard into the pocket of your dress. oh yeah, you've got it like that. "your mom asked me to come see what was taking so long. i told her you'd be down soon, but she insisted." he shrugs, so nonchalantly.

like none of this is eating away at him.

"ugh, whatever. come on." your tone is angry, but your face shows nothing but fear. his eyes follow as you storm towards the elevator, seeing the zipper of your dress slowly sliding down as you reach the doors. "here, hold on."

his fingers move your veil carefully as you step into the elevator, before pulling the fabric tighter together and pulling the zipper to the top. he carefully clasps the closure, and you swear you feel every hair on your body sticking up when his fingertips gently graze your back. "don't touch me, heeseung."

"i'm trying to help you. otherwise, you'd flash that entire crowd." he scoffs, pressing the floor button. you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself as the elevator becomes silent. the tension is thick between you, you know it. your eyes never leave the neon sign, watching the floor numbers go by before heeseung reaches over and pulls the emergency lever.

"what the fuck are you doing?! i'm already late!" you gasp, hitting his arm with your bouquet when he stands in front of the lever. "i can't let you do this unless you hear what i have to say."

"heeseung, i'm getting married. this is the biggest day of my life–" your whining is cut short by his hand on your mouth, and only then do you see the unshed tears in his eyes. "the biggest day of my life was when i met you on that stupid playground. i never, ever in my life thought our friendship would end this way, and you know what, it makes me kind of sick."

he breathes deeply, removing his hand from your face as he sees the shock in your eyes. "you're saying you're already late to your big day, well i just want to say i beat you in that department. i've never had a problem with punctuality, but i really missed the mark on this one." his chuckle is dry, humorless as he looks at the bouquet in your hand. "i don't think i'll get over this, ever. i'll never get the chance to be in his place. but," he steps back, fingers gripping the emergency lever in his hand.

"i want you to know that it should be me. i should be the one waiting for you at the end of the aisle. i should be the one who gets to love you until the end of my days, and even then, you'd never die. you'd be loved by me forever, the evidence strewn all over the world in compositions and lyrics. i would never let you die."

he pushes the lever back, before moving back to his original spot next to you. the elevator doors open, revealing an empty lobby. the storm clouds are no longer that far away, and you can feel the humidity through the open plan of the resort.

"i am foolishly, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you. and i hope you realize this is the biggest mistake of your life." his voice is soft, as is his smile when he offers his hand. "here's to your forever, my love."

you say nothing.

🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊

if heeseung was anything, it was a sick bastard. a sick, rat bastard who had no shame. your mother took you from his arm at the end of the aisle, and you didn't even realize you'd allowed him to lead you there. jake's eyes shone with what could only be identified as jealousy.

he smiled the entire ceremony, clapping and whistling alongside your other guests through the vows. the sappy vows jake had penned were poetic compared to yours, but he knew what you meant anyway. you felt several fat raindrops plop onto your head and shoulders, while heeseung had come prepared and shared his umbrella with your mother.

he even helped her inside once the rain really started pouring, just after your first kiss as a married couple. your stomach was boiling over in fury as you watched him laugh with her, his eyes only meeting yours once with a soft smile. 

you and jake slipped away to change into your reception clothing, his suit jacket abandoned and sleeves rolled up, showing off the watch you got him for his birthday. your ballroom white dress, now stained with sand, was traded in for an a-line style. jake met you in front of the resort, his fingers curled in yours when he finally spoke.

"we really did it, huh." he says quietly, his eyes scanning the shut doors of the reception venue. you nod, your breath caught in your throat when he takes a step back, his hand squeezing yours. "two years." your ears twitch at this. "what?" "all i ask for is two years. we can have a kid. we'll have an heir to our wills. we can get divorced after two years, and you can be with him." he breathes, eyes following the pattern on the heavy wooden door. you choke out a scoff of disbelief, your throat burning. "what the fuck are you talking about, jaeyun?" he winces at the use of his name, so used to gentle baby and sweetened honey. a sigh escapes his lips as he turns to face you. "i know you love him, y/n. you don't have to hide it from me. you wouldn't have brought him all the way out here, you wouldn't have gone behind my back and changed the plans for the band. your mom loves him, for crying out loud. i never stood a chance." he chuckles sadly, and your tears are hot as they flow down your face.

"how can you say that, jaeyun? i'm married to you, i've chosen you, over anything and anyone in this world! how can you say such things?!" your hurt is evident, but he can't figure out if it's because of the little blame game or if it's because you truly, deeply love him. he doesn't know what to say, but reaches to wipe your tears. you jerk away, a frown etched on your glossed lips as you wipe them yourself. you take a deep breath, grabbing the door knob.

"fix your face." you mutter, a tone jake had never received from you as he sighed, painting a smile of everything's okay on his face as the two of you threw the doors open in unison. your crowd of guests cheered loudly, rice flying everywhere as they welcomed you in. the band was loudly playing got to be real by cheryl lynn, and you almost forget jake's painful words behind the door. you almost forget that heeseung will be queueing up to sing for you and your husband, for free, on the very stage you're now standing in front of. 

jungwon hands you a microphone and two champagne flutes, before slinking away to his seat. you hand one to jake, who swirls it nervously.

"wow, it's such an honor to have all of our loved ones here today." your voice is shaky as you take them all in, dozens of eyes staring you down. "i mean, i've waited for this day since i was a little girl. it's a blessing to finally see it in color, in person. thank you." jake breathes in deeply, before looking away to blink back tears. "i'm not crying, my eyes are just sweating." he speaks into the microphone, earning an empathetic laugh from the guests, your hand ghosts over his back, and he stiffens at it. "i'm so…so terribly in love with y/n. i can't believe this day is real." a soft aww echoes in the room, your chest tightening as you see heeseung sitting next to your mother. he's cooing with everyone else. "and i can't wait to be a man that is continuously worthy of her love. to y/n." 

you almost burst into tears as everyone raises their drinks to you, the clink of glasses adding to the emotion as you and jake find your seats at the end of the hall. you sit gingerly, holding jake's hand under the table tightly. "i love you, jake." "i love you, y/n."

🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊 – 🟊

the speeches were a mess. jay was a mess of tears, and minjeong spewed bullshit about the two of you being like sisters. heeseung hadn't met her until five minutes after the ceremony, and if you had been close to anyone enough to consider them a sibling, he'd know them. no one knew you like he did.

"and now, for the newlyweds' first dance! we have a very special guest singing for us today, please give a warm welcome and round of applause to y/n's longest friend, lee heeseung!" 

he smiled nervously as he took the stage, a puffy-eyed jay sitting behind him as he tested the microphone. "thank you for having me, and congratulations to the newlyweds. y/n, i'm eternally proud of you and so grateful to be here on your special day. i love you." none of the guests know it means something more to him, to you, as they let out an aww. how heartwarming, that your lifelong best friend was here for you. how lovely, that he was supporting you every step of the way.

he sang carefully, watching as you and jake held each other tightly, swaying to the song. he can hear your sniffle, a soft sob into jake's shoulder as he lovingly strokes your back. he looks away.

it should be him.

it should be heeseung, that gets to see you wear white. it should be heeseung, that gets to plan a tedious wedding at your instruction. it should be heeseung that gets to take you on a romantic honeymoon and spend all day in the sun and all night glued to your bed. it should be heeseung that gets to shampoo your hair for you when you're feeling too tired, it should be heeseung that gets to watch you put lipstick on in the morning just to ruin it before you're out the door. 

it should be him. and everyone knows it, no matter if they know your history or not.

"thank you, everyone. let's hear it for the newlyweds!"

october 15.

"hey."

it's been over a year since your wedding. you and jake had happily posted tons of wedding photos, piled over with honeymoon flicks. you and heeseung hadn't spoken since the wedding. he left right after the first dance, catching the first ferry back to seoul. he didn't bother contacting you to see if you'd made it back safely, he didn't bother to message you a happy birthday when it came around. he just didn't care.

he dropped out of college for the second time, and spent the summer going around seoul auditioning for companies. decelis entertainment finally gave him a break, and only after he got his contract did he find out that jake and all of his friends were also at this company.

he was polite in the hallways. he smiled, he waved, he engaged in small talk and perused the past. he didn't ask questions, he didn't initiate. he spent his time holed away in the studio with a producer named yeonjun, recording for hours on end without a break. he was set to debut in two weeks, having dropped his first teaser just two days prior.

all without you to cheer him on.

"what are you doing here?" his voice was cold, nothing you weren't used to at this point. his hair wasn't red anymore, now a natural chocolate brown. it suited him. "came to visit, heard from jake that you've been training for a year." "what's it to you?"

he's being harsh, he knows he's being harsh.

"hey, y/n. nice to see you." jake calls from across the hall, exiting his studio with jay and sunghoon in tow. the two of them seem to say nothing at the sudden casualties between you and jake, or the insinuation that he hadn't seen you in a while. heeseung gives you a glance, your hands holding a gift and a grocery bag. "may i come in?" "i'm busy, at the moment." he coughs, ignoring the way your eyes roll. "too busy for a slice of cake?" you hold up a bag in your fingers, and his eyes narrow. he leans back into the studio, his eyes scanning the calendar for any potential special dates. he's not even flipped to the right month, the calendar reading july.

"shit, did i miss something?" he whips out his phone, which you simply cover with your hand. a soft laugh escapes your lips as you lift your other hand, the gift bag screaming happy birthday in gold glitter flashing at him. "oh, man." he moves away from the door, allowing you to walk in. you look around, and although the studio doesn't belong to him, it sure smells like him. it looks like him, it's covered in him, it feels like home.

"happy birthday, hee." you say gently, setting the gift down on the couch and slowly sitting down to unwrap his cake. "i know it's not much, but i'm barely here." you chuckle, tapping your temple as he takes a seat in his desk chair. he's wary, you can tell.

"something on your mind?" "why are you here? i debut in two weeks, i don't need any bullshit." he rubs his temples, and you only frown. "you know, once upon a time, you would've been happy to have me here." your tone is pointed, and heeseung sighs. "fine, fine. i'm sorry."

"i'm the one who should be sorry." you murmur, and heeseung says nothing. he knows you're right. 

you're both quiet, before heeseung notices the candle next to the cake. he rolls the chair over, his fingers carefully centering the candle. "have you got a light?" 

you shake your head no, a sheepish look in your eyes. "i'm sorry. we can pretend, if that's okay?" he hates the way his lips twitch into a smile at your wide eyes. "yeah, we can pretend." 

you sing for him softly, your cheek squished into your hand as you lean on the armrest. he closes his eyes, making a wish and blowing the makeshift flame out. "what'd you wish for?" you yawn, and he shakes his head.

"won't come true if i tell you." shrugging, he rolls back over to his desk, leaving the cake on the table. you just make a noise of agreement, before a sigh slips past you. "i heard your teaser, you know." he doesn't care to react, only giving you a short sound. "mhm?" "is it about me?" you ask, and he straightens in his chair before spinning around to face you. "all my songs are about you. every single one of them." he gestures to a tattered journal on the soundboard. it's covered in stickers, and…a taped photo of you and him as toddlers. "oh."

"i mean what i say, y/n." he rolls his eyes, before spinning back around. "if it were me, i'd never let you die."

but it is you, you think. it's always been you.

"why did jake say it was nice to see you?" he asks, too cowardly to look you in the eyes. he hears your sigh, before hearing you shift around on the couch. he spins around again, only to see you have removed your shoes and tucked your legs beneath you. his eyes scan you, before looking at your fingers. your ring is gone, replaced by a chunky painite stone in silver. your eyes are gently burning into him, and he shivers in the warmth. "well…why?" "before the reception, he told me he knew." you shrug, "he knew how you felt about me, and how i allegedly felt about you. he brought up my mother, and how he felt like he'd never stood a chance." 

"but he did. you married him, after all." heeseung rolls his eyes as you shrug, blinking slowly as you speak again. "we gave it a good shot. maybe i should've listened to all those superstitions, they're not such bullshit. the tripping, the rain, god, the way my ring was too tight." you scoff sadly, before glancing back up at him.

he seems to understand. if he doesn't, he doesn't say anything. sighing, you reach over to rustle the gift bag with your fingers. "you've got to open this, you know." 

"y/n, i can't do this." he breathes out, eyes screwed shut. "i can't sit here with you and pretend like we're all good, like you're not married to the same guy i share a company with. we stopped being friends a long time ago, what are you trying to do here?" "i'm not trying to do anything but reconnect. i fully accepted the fact that whether or not you're with me, you're still someone i love. i spent years trying to figure out why you drifted away from me, and then jake and i sat down at our dinner table a few weeks ago after meeting with the lawyer and he asked me about our friendship. so i told him everything, from the very beginning."

heeseung can't breathe as you get up, walking towards him and slowly sinking into a squat. your hands are on his knees, giving a gentle squeeze before you speak.

"i'm sorry i made it seem like i had no faith in you. i said horrible things to you, even if they seemed right to me, and i'm so sorry that it took someone else to tell me that i'd treated you so badly that day." 

his eyes are brimming with tears, but he looks away from you. he can't cry, not now, not in front of you. 

"you've always been like that, though." he murmurs, picking at his cuticles when you carefully take his hands in yours. he suppresses a sob as the warmth of you envelopes his fingers, "i was projecting. i thought that everyone had to be like me, that everyone had to have a plan. some people are just better at flying by the seat of their pants, i mean, look at all you've accomplished despite me saying such shitty things to you. you're about to debut, you're going to see great success. everyday i'm rooting for you, even if i'm not the person you go home to."

you give his hands a firm squeeze. once, twice, three times. i love you.

"are you divorced?" 

you scoff out a soft laugh, looking down at his jeans. "jake and i haven't been together since the wedding. we spent the honeymoon playing mermaids and crying over whiskey sours."

"i can't forgive you right now." he confesses, making your head snap up to look at him. he swallows hard, "i can't forgive you right now, because i'm still mad at you. for saying those things to me, and…and you hurt me, when you asked me to sing for your wedding. it hurt me a lot, y/n." "i'm sorry, hee." you whisper, your thumbs wipe at the tears spilling from his eyes. he leans into your touch, before pulling away. "i know you are, y/n. i know."

he gently pushes away, offering his hand to help you up. you take it, and he waits for you to put your shoes on before leading you back to the door. "i'll call you, okay? when i'm ready."

you step out of the studio, peering up at him with sad eyes. "you promise?"

he sighs, nodding his head. "i promise, baby."

BABEYUN © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[ja3yun]

The Sun that Always Burns | S.JY

chapter 2: it falls apart

sim jaeyun x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), protected sex, oral (f.rec), fingering, petnames (baby, princess), slight exhibitionism, the end of this chapter hurts (sorry), angst/fluff, not really proofread, anything else please lmk! w.c: 17.4k synopsis: high school is ending, jaeyun has your future all planned out, but when life throws you a curveball and you make a rash decision to protect you and jaeyun...it falls apart a/n: hi! chapter 2 is here <33 a massive thank you for all the lovely comments and feedback with chapter one, it means so much to me. this chapter is a little sore if you love ynjake but it i also preparing you for much worse so!! enjoy!

chapter 1 | masterlist | chapter 3

As the end of high school loomed over you like sleep paralysis, you found yourself in a nightmarish swamp of college brochures, scrolling through endless websites in search of something - literally anything - that might ignite a spark of interest. That was the big problem, though. You weren’t passionate about anything that could translate into a career. Your teen brain only sought after one end goal and that was Jaeyun. He was all you could think about; the only future you’re certain of.

Jaeyun, on the other hand, has always known what he wants. Apollo College in Busan. It has been his dream for as long as he can remember. He spoke about it even way back when you two were mearley best friends. He was born to study mathematical physics, his mind a labyrinth of theories and equations you could barely wrap your head around - which isn’t saying much, you barely know your times tables. 

But, yet, you listen to him go on about it over and over again because you loved nothing more than the way his eyes lit up whenever he spoke about quantum mechanics, the way his enthusiasm turned the most mundane concepts into something alive. Even though physics itself bored you to tears, listening to him talk about it made it feel like poetry. 

Sometimes, you even make him read out the study material to you just so you actually consume some knowledge. His accent mixed with his drive to help you actually did positively impact your grades even if only slightly.

You, however, had nothing of passion like that. No grand ambitions, no clear direction. And Jaeyun, despite being your greatest love, was not exactly a viable career option. As much as you’d love to be his full-time trophy wife, reality wasn’t so forgiving. 

“What about Apollo, though?” Jaeyun asked, his eyes glued to his phone as he scrolls through yet another website on your bedroom floor. “They offer some ND-level courses. You could do one of those.”

You scoff, tossing a balled-up piece of paper at him from your bed. “Baby, be serious. I am not applying to a college for geniuses.”

Jaeyun catches the paper with ease, smirking as he sets his phone aside, full undivided attention on you. He gets up slowly, moving to sit next to you on your flower-patterned bedding. “You could totally pull it off. Imagine it - my girl, a woman in STEM.” He gives you a slow once-over, his smirk deepening. “It’s kinda hot, actually. Very hot.”

Rolling your eyes, you snatch his glasses off his face and slide them onto your own. Peering at him over the rims, you let your voice dip into something sultry. “Oh? Like this?”

Something dark flickers in his gaze. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you don’t miss the way his jaw tenses, nostrils flaring slightly in arousal. He’s never outright admitted it, but you know he has a thing for you in glasses. You’re not above teasing him about it either. Times when you want him to focus on you rather than his work, you’ll put on a pair of his specs, biting your lip and cradle his lap between your thighs. It’s a sure win tactic.

Now, if only you put as much effort into school and your future as you did seducing your boyfriend into bed.- you could make it to Harvard with top honors.

“My girl looks good all the time,” he murmurs, shifting closer, “but you in STEM? That’s marriage material, baby. I’ll wife you up right now.”

Heat creeps up your neck, his eyes eating you whole as he tries to trap you between him and the bed, ready to fuck a ‘yes’ out of you and get your acceptance to apply for a University you know you don’t stand a chance in. 

So instead of giving in, you finally gain your bones back, prying your eyes away from his love-drunk gaze. You place a finger against his forehead and push him back before he can close the distance. 

“Jaeyun, this is serious.” 

Jaeyun groans dramatically, flopping onto his back and staring blankly at the ceiling, his cock sighing at your rejection. “I am serious. You need a college and - okay, if not Apollo - Busan has loads. One of them has to have something you like. Something you can apply for so we can be close.”

You bite your lip, fingers drumming against the laptop keyboard. “What if I don’t find anything? What if I get stuck here, living with my parents forever, only seeing you once a month or something?”

That gets his attention. 

He sits up straighter, his expression sobering in an instant. “Y/N, if you can’t find something here, I’ll look somewhere else. My grades are good enough to get in anywhere.” It’s a subtle brag but you know he’s right. 

But that doesn’t mean he can just give up his dream school that he has spent countless nights dreaming and studying to get in to. You refuse to watch him throw it all away for you. It’s a ridiculous notion, one you can’t sit and watch him contemplate for more than a second.

“No,” you say immediately, shaking your head. “I am not letting you give up your dream school because I’m too thick to get into a single college.”

“But you’re my dream, Y/N. I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go. I’d give up anything for you, you know that.” His serious expression makes you a little uncomfortable. “I’ll get an apprenticeship or just a job if there isn’t a course for me.”

There is something about hearing him say he’ll throw his aspirations out the window for you that hurts your heart and you don't know why. It’s romantic, most girls would kill for a boy so understanding. But that’s not how you see it.

“Jaeyun don’t say that,” discarding your laptop and shuffling towards him, hoping the closer you are, the further deep your words will reach him, convince him. “I didn’t watch you need an IV drip from studying so hard just for you to not go.”

Something unreadable flickers across his face before he exhales, dropping his gaze. “I might not even get in, y’know.”

Immediately, your hands come up to cradle his face. “Baby, you’re a shoe-in. You’re the smartest person I know.” 

You always wondered why your boyfriend has such a hard time believing in his own abilities. He knows he’s smart, and he knows that colleges are falling at his feet to get his brains and athleticism on their roster. But something about when Jaeyun truly wants something, like this college, like you, he just lacks the self belief that he is even good enough for it. 

You run your thumbs over his cheekbones, watching as he leans into your touch. “I just wish you could see yourself the way I do. You’re born to do amazing things, and one of them is attend Apollo.” 

His lips curl into a small, sad smile, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrists. “You always say stuff like that.”

“Because it’s true,” you whisper. 

He holds your gaze for a long moment studying you, like he’s signing a final document in his mind. A declaration of some sorts. He looks a little nervous, haunted by the prospect of something that he won’t say. 

“Baby?” You nudge him. “What’s wrong?”

Jaeyun hesitates before speaking, kissing your palms slowly before letting go. “I mean it, Y/N. I’ll go anywhere you go. I don’t care where. I just - I can’t do long-distance. I know what happens in long-distance relationships.” His fingers curl into the blanket beneath him, hurting at even the prospect of this reality. “At first, we’ll talk all the time. Then life gets in the way, and suddenly we’re only FaceTiming once a week. Then it’s just texting because that’s easier, and before we know it, we barely talk at all. And then you’ll meet someone else - someone less clingy, more attractive, someone who can actually be there. And we’ll break up.”

His voice is thick as he barely manages to push out the final words. 

Your heart aches to see him like this, so doubtful. “Jaeyun,” you murmur, waiting until he meets your eyes. His are glossy, filled with a fear he doesn’t want to voice but can’t hide. “I’m not going anywhere. I will find a school in Busan. I will be right beside you for as long as you’ll have me. And we will never break up. Okay?”

Deep down you feel his concerns too. Of course you do. Long distance isn’t for the faint hearted; there’s more chance to misinterpret words and texts, less chance to keep the bonded knot sturdy between you. And with him saying all this, talking about how long distance wouldn’t work for you both, it make you start to really question the what ifs. 

But right now you have to convince Jaeyun that everything will be fine, all while trying to convince yourself in the process. Doubts that weren’t on your mind now are, but you push them down as far as you can - stamping on them like you’re trying to fit one more piece of trash in the can.

Jaeyun searches your face for any sign of hesitation, but he finds none. Slowly, he nods.

A breath of relief escapes you, and you lean in, pressing a faint kiss to his lips. “I love you, you idiot. Nothing will break us apart, okay?”

Jaeyun chuckles against your mouth, kissing you again, lingering this time. “I love you too.”

When you pull away, you shoot him a teasing grin. “Now come on, use that big sexy brain of yours to help me get into college.”

Jaeyun’s laughter fills the room, and just like that, the weight in his chest lightens. You spend the rest of the night filling out applications, finding comfort in the promise that, no matter what, you will find a way to stay together.

________

Rejection. Rejection. Rejection.

You open the next email, already bracing yourself. Another rejection - your seventh, to be exact. 

With a sigh, you lock your phone and rub at your temples. Time is slipping through your fingers. It has been two months since you sat in your bedroom, applying to a million and one colleges, and now, with just six weeks left, your options are very quickly dwindling. 

He’s moving to Busan. You’re supposed to be moving with him. But if nowhere accepts you…then what?

Your mind drifts back to the moment Jaeyun’s future was set in stone, the day he got his acceptance letter from Apollo.

There’s a frantic knock at the door, so insistent it makes your dad yank it open with a scowl. "Who the fuc—Oh, Jake. What’s the big rush?" he grumbles, irritation fading as he takes in Jaeyun’s breathless excitement.

"Is Y/N here? I need to see her," Jaeyun pants, his eyes already darting past your dad, ready to bolt up the stairs.

Your dad barely has time to nod before Jaeyun is kicking off his shoes and taking the steps two at a time.

"I think Jaeyun got into college," your dad remarks to your mum, who peeks around the corner, watching the whirlwind with a mixture of amusement and wonder.

In your room, you’re hunched over your desk, drowning in revision, completely unaware of the storm about to hit you. Your hair is a mess in a sloppy bun, your baggy sweatpants are the same ones you slept in, and Jaeyun’s old football jersey - the one he gave you after his first high school championship win - hangs loosely from your frame. You look like a typical stressed teenager.

When he reaches your doorway, he stops, his chest heaving, eyes drinking you in like he’s seeing you for the first time. "Beautiful…" he murmurs under his breath.

You look up, blinking at him in confusion. "Jaeyun? What are you doing here? I thought I was meeting you later."

He strides over, thrusting an envelope towards you, his hands trembling slightly with anticipation, mouth too dry to speak. You take it cautiously, eyes flicking to his face before unfolding the letter.

"Dear Mr. Sim," you read aloud, heart pounding. "We have received an overwhelming number of applications for the Mathematical Physics BSc Honours programme. However, we are delighted to offer you a place-"

Your breath catches. The words blur as they register in your mind.

"Jaeyun," you whisper. "You got in?"

He nods, disbelief still written across his face despite the confirmation in black and white. A squeal erupts from your throat before you can stop it, and in the next moment, you launch yourself at him. He catches you with ease, arms locking tightly around your waist as he spins you slightly, laughter bubbling from his lips.

Joy and pride flood the room, washing away the quiet rejection that has lived here for too long. At least once, this space gets to witness a letter that doesn’t end in an apology.

"This is amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you!" The words spill from you, breathless but nonetheless filled with exhilaration. You pull back just enough to cup his face, your thumbs brushing over the warmth of his cheeks. "You fucking did it."

His grin is blinding, eyes crinkled with elation. In this moment, Jaeyun is the picture of someone whose dreams are finally within reach. And God, you love him. You’re proud of him. But deep down, in a place you don’t dare voice, you envy him.

That memory snaps like a rubber band in your mind as you force yourself back to reality. You mutter a quiet, ‘fuck’ stuffing your phone into your pocket before heading to class, the weight of failure dragging behind you. 

Nowhere wants you. Not Busan, not Yangsan-Si, not even Gimhae.

You picked courses regarding subjects you enjoy in school, or rather, got decent enough grades in to hopefully scrape a pity acceptance. But it wasn’t enough. You aren’t enough.

Only two options remain.

One is a short twenty-minute commute from Jaeyun’s future campus. The other? Four hours away, tucked on the outskirts of Pyeongchang. You never mentioned that one to him. You didn’t really think you needed to. It was your ‘just in case’ choice - the one you assumed you’d never have to consider.

Now, it remains as possibly one of your only options.

Your feet feel heavier as you step into class, suddenly feeling the weight of having to tell your boyfriend that one of the only colleges you have left as a viable future is in fact going to induce his worst fear - long distance.

Jaeyun’s face lights up the second he spots you cross the threshold, waving you over with that easy, boyish grin of his. His chair is turned away from his desk as he chats with Jay and Heeseung, completely at ease.

"Baby, come here!" he calls out to you, unbothered by the eyes that shift toward him with his echoing accent. Jaeyun has never been quiet about his affection for you. The class, especially the girls, hate it, but he doesn’t care - could not give a single fuck.

You smile fondly at his gesture, letting the warmth of his presence chase away your spiraling thoughts as best as they can. He has a way of taking everything dark and making them disappear. 

As you move to sit beside Jay, Jaeyun tugs you onto his lap instead, his arms looping around your waist effortlessly, snuggling you into him like a puzzle piece. Jaeyun presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder in response, his smile smug, utterly unashamed. 

"You guys are disgusting." Jay, Jaeyun’s friend, groans, pretending to vomit.

"It’s a good thing you two are going to college together," Heeseung teases, leaning back in his chair as he pats Jaeyun’s arm. "I think my man here might actually die if he’s away from you for more than three minutes."

That sinking feeling starts to rise again, quick and overwhelming.

"Yeah, he wouldn’t last a day long distance," Jay adds, nudging Jaeyun’s knee.

The words dig under your skin, settling like lead in your stomach.

There is one more chance.

Feigning nonchalance, you slip from Jaeyun’s grasp, prying his hands from your waist. "As much as I love being the source of your collective disgust," you joke lightly, "I need to pee before class starts."

Jaeyun pouts slightly, his hand hovering at yours in a weak attempt to hold you captive, but lets you go, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before you escape. “Don’t take too long, baby.”

Plastering on a fake smile, you nudge your nose with his as a promise before walking out briskly, weaving through the throngs of students in the hallway until you reach the bathroom. The second you’re alone, you exhale sharply, pressing your hands against the sink, gripping tight at the edges as you try to find some balance in this chaotic mess. 

The doubt creeps in again, insidious and unwelcome.

It’s not that you don’t believe long distance can work. It’s that you know it won’t work for him. He said it himself, he can’t do it. He can’t imagine you not by his side, to hold you every morning, to kiss and cuddle you when he’s stressed or just needing to feel you. He is willing to give up everything to be with you.

A familiar ping echoes through the empty bathroom. Your fingers scramble to unlock your phone, heart hammering as you read the notification.

Mail: Offer Update – Kyungsung University.

Your pulse thunders. This is it. Your last chance. Last chance to make this right and start your life with him in Busan.

With a deep breath and shaky heart, you open the email.

Rejection.

Your breath catches. The world tilts.

There are no more chances.

Shit.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror. The girl looking back at you is unrecognisable - eyes red, lips trembling, the weight of disappointment heavy in her gaze. A choked sob escapes your throat before you can stop it.

You’re going to lose him.

Jaeyun’s voice echoes in your mind. I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go. I’d give up anything for you.

He meant it. He would give it all up. But the thought of letting him do that? Of being the reason he threw away his dreams? That’s a burden too heavy to bear.

Another ping comes from your phone and you squeeze your eyes shut to get rid of the tears that blur your vision. 

Mail: Offer Update: Avanti College

Dear Miss L/N,

We have received your application. After much consideration, we would be delighted to offer you a place at Avanti College for the study of Film and Media. As you may be aware, our school terms begin earlier than others. We will send you by post appropriate packages for you to start in July. For now, we have attached a link to our module selection system. Please choose your classes as soon as possible, as spaces are filling quickly.

We look forward to welcoming you next month.

Yours sincerely,Mr Suh Kyung MinHead of Recruitment. 

You read it once. Then again. Then a third time.

Your vision sharpens, the crushing weight in your chest momentarily lifting. You got in.

Somewhere wants you.

A sharp, disbelieving laugh escapes your lips as you clutch the phone tighter. Against all odds, someone out there believes you're good enough. You have a future. The rejection after rejection, the sinking dread, the hopelessness - it’s all gone in an instant, replaced by the undeniable proof staring back at you.

But then that spark of joy fades as the rain of your situation comes pouring down. It’s four hours away from Busan. Four hours away from the love of your life. It would oddly be easier to accept that you just weren’t meant to go to college at all, but to know that your future is here in this email makes you wonder if it’s a sign.

A sign that Jaeyun is meant to flourish without you, or vice verca. 

So what do you do?

Tell Jaeyun the truth - that you didn’t get into any of the colleges near him. That the only offer you received is one that will take you miles away. But you already know what he’ll do. He’ll throw everything away for you without hesitation. He’ll give up his dream university, his future, everything, just to stay by your side.

Or.

Don’t tell him. Accept the offer, pack your bags, and disappear. Leave behind your friends, your family - everyone who might cave and tell Jaeyun where you’ve gone. If you vanish without a word, he’ll have no choice but to continue on the path he worked so hard for.

The second option feels right - a little drastic. But right. There is no way you are going to be the one to leave Jaeyun’s future desolate, you couldn’t offer him a future better than the one he had already set out for himself. 

So you just won’t tell him. Disappear forever and delude yourself that he’ll move on easily.

Does his happiness and future mean more to you than your own? Absolutely. And for him to propel the way you know he can, you need to let him follow his path, even if that means sacrificing your own joy.

Looking back in the mirror, your reflection is hollow. Distant. The girl staring back at you is already grieving something she hasn’t even lost yet. 

Now, you have another choice; make this the best few weeks with Jaeyun, or slowly break away to make the situation easier on you both. Deep down you knew even if you tried to distance yourself, he would find a way to see you. He would move heaven and earth to get into your heart and eventually rip the truth from the chest you’re keeping locked away in there.

So, you can only do one thing - give your undivided attention to him just as you have all these years. Give him all the love you have, enough to fill the rest of his years with.

You have roughly five weeks. Five weeks before you’re away to live a completely new life. You’ll have to remind yourself why you’re doing this, why you’re hurting yourself by leaving your only love. 

But it’s for him. All of it. 

_______

Two weeks have passed and two weeks remain until you leave for Pyeongchang, and you’ve mastered the art of concealing your hurt. Jaeyun keeps asking if you’ve heard back from colleges, his curiosity growing sharper each time, but you just shrug and steer the conversation elsewhere. He’s getting suspicious, his gaze lingering a little too long when you deflect, but you reassure him with the same excuse - there’s still time. Most of your applications were for clearance spots, and they tend to respond last minute. 

He buys it. For now.

With exams over and school finally behind you, the only logical way for your entire year to celebrate is a party - a big one; one that could rival any American movie you’ve seen. Now that all of you can legally drink, there’s no limit to how much alcohol will be passed around - tequila, Sourz, Sambuca, Jager, all of the above is being checked in. And because the chances of seeing any of these people again are practically nonexistent, you want to let loose. 

No, you need to. 

For weeks, worry and dread have gnawed at you, and tonight, you crave the kind of recklessness that will drown it all out. You want to get fucked up in the most unpolitest way possible. That does run the risk of blurting out your secret to Jaeyun, however, you plan to pass the blabbermouth stage of drunk and go right to blottered.

Ryujin and Yeji are on their way to pick you and Jaeyun up from his house. Yeji, having lost a brutal game of rock, paper, scissors, is stuck as the designated driver and won’t shut up about how unfair it is. Meanwhile, Jaeyun is already dressed, effortlessly stunning in a blue double-denim outfit layered over a white graphic tee. Silver chains glint against his chest, hanging from his black D&G belt, and the rings you’ve felt on your throat more times than you can count adorn his fingers. A pearl necklace - Heeseung’s gift - rests against his collarbones, catching the light as he scrolls through his phone. His hair, styled the way he likes it, is perfectly parted, his forehead on display.

Jaeyun is the most gorgeous boy you have ever seen, and somehow, you find something new to admire about him every single day.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you catch sight of his reflection and pause, noticing the subtle change in his frame. You see him every day but something about the way his clothes are sitting on him places your view on him differently. He’s broader, taller, more…handsome. Some of his teenage features lost from the long nights of studying and passing time.

“Have you been going to the gym?” you ask, adjusting your earrings, your tone casual but your curiosity piqued.

He shrugs with his eyes still glued to his screen as he scrolls mindlessly. “Dunno. Must be all the extra lifting at work. Shit’s heavy, y’know?”

Don’t you know it. You work in a shitty convenience store too, and you know how heavy boxes can be. But you aren’t exactly walking around like Beth Pheonix.

Jaeyun still sits there, attention averted to some weird TikTok video that only he could get on his fyp. You huff, watching him intently, waiting - willing - him to notice the effort you put into your appearance. The white two-piece you bought for tonight leaves little to the imagination, hugging you in all the right places. You feel powerful, sexy. But he doesn’t even glance up.

Dragging your tongue over your teeth, you step behind him, your hands gliding over his shoulders, fingers pressing gently into his muscles. “You have gotten bigger,” you purr, letting your touch linger.

Jaeyun hums in response, still distracted, and that simply won’t do. If he won’t pay attention on his own, you’ll make him.

With slow, calculated movements, you step around to his front, one knee pressing onto the chair as you straddle his lap. His body tenses as you come closer into proximity, but his eyes remain trained on his phone. Not for long. You settle your weight against him, tilting your head as you wait for him to look at you.

And then he does.

His mouth parts slightly, eyes dragging over your moisturised body, darkening with each passing second. The phone is forgotten, locked and tossed aside without a second thought.

“Fuck, baby.”

You smirk vitoriously, lips curving as you bite down on the corner of your lip. “Do I look good?” Your fingers skim up his chest, curling around his neck as you shift your hips, pressing against him just enough to tease.

Jaeyun’s hands find your waist instinctively, gripping you tight. His voice is lower, rougher when he speaks. “Shit, Princess, you look ethereal.” His fingers flex against your exposed skin to make sure you’re really there. “Do we have to go? I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this.”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest but is cut off as he leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a lingering kiss. His thumbs brush over the fabric of your outfit, possessive, debating whether to peel it off or let you wear it just so he can show you off. He’ll be the envy of everyone in that house, he knows that for sure.

“Yes,” you breathe against his lips, pulling back just enough to see the frustration flicker across his face. “I wanna get drunk and dance.” You slide off his lap, tugging at his hand. “And you get to tell everyone that this” - you gesture to yourself, “is all yours.”

Jaeyun rolls his eyes, but the smirk playing at his lips betrays him. “Baby, don’t tempt me. I’ll go into that party and put on a show so they know who you belong to.”

A quiet moan slips past your lips when his hands beging to kneed your ass, fingers pulsing enough to bruise. His brow quirks at your reaction to his words. “Oh? Do you like that idea?” His grip tightens. “Should I just bend you over in the middle of the party and fu-”

Your hand flies over his mouth, cutting him off as you dissolve into laughter. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

Jaeyun just grins, shrugging as he pulls your hand from his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm before intertwining your fingers with his. “We should head downstairs and say goodbye to my parents.”

He turns to leave, but you yank him back, stealing another kiss. It’s deep, slow, filled with a desperation you can’t name. You love having him here, so accessible, so tangible. 

Jaeyun groans against your lips, tasting the familiar cherry lip oil that has lingered on his tongue for three years. His fingers tighten around your waist, pulling you flush against him, as if he can’t get enough.

And honestly, he doesn’t think he ever will.

“Jaeyun,” you murmur against his lips, but he only deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth so he can steal the words straight from your breath. His grip tightens around your waist, and you feel the way he presses closer, as if sheer proximity could fuse you together. “Baby, we need to go,” you try again, but your voice is weak, betraying how much you don’t really want to stop either.

“No,” he whines, lifting you effortlessly, his hands firm under your thighs as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. “If we don’t go then I won’t start swinging at guys for looking at you too long.” His voice is a low rasp between kisses, playful yet dark with promise. You throw your head back in laughter, his words of possessivness making you giddy, loved.

But Jaeyun sees an opportunity in your exposed throat. Quickly, his lips latch onto the delicate skin just above your freckle, the one spot he knows makes you quiver with need. The first kiss is featherlight, but then he sucks, a slow, deliberate pull that makes warmth pool low in your stomach. His teeth scrape against you before he soothes the bite with his tongue.

A gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Jaeyun,” you warn, but your voice is breathy, and he knows it’s not real resistance.

He hums in satisfaction, his mouth not relenting, lavishing the same spot with nips and licks until heat prickles under your skin. When he finally pulls away, he inspects his work, and a smirk curls his lips.

“There.” He presses one final, chaste kiss to the fresh mark before looking at you with innocent eyes, as if he hadn’t just branded you in the middle of his bedroom. “Now everyone will know you’re mine.”

You scramble to the mirror, fingers brushing over the forming hickey - deep red and already threatening to turn purple. You sigh, caught between amusement and mild exasperation. “What are you? Thirteen?”

A low chuckle rumbles from behind you. “Just possessive,” he says so simply to his actions claiming to you like a territorial wolf. Then his voice drops into something quieter, something laced with an emotion that knots your stomach. Vulnerability. “Can’t have another Sunghoon situation, now can I?”

The mention of that birthday night makes your chest tighten. You never bring it up. You try to forget it ever happened. A stupid drunken mess that makes your stomach curdle if you give it more than a second thought. But Jaeyun never truly let it go.

His gaze softens as he looks at you though the mirror, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I can’t lose you. Not for anything.”

His words turn over like acid in your belly. You think about what’s coming in two weeks. About the choice you’ve already made. About how he’ll wake up one day, reach for you, and find nothing but an empty space.

You have to tell him.

But you can’t.

So you do the only thing you can - you plaster on a fake-ass smile, slip your arms around his neck, press a lingering kiss to his nose, and lie through your teeth “That won’t happen, babe.” 

A car honk from outside saves you from lingering too long in the moment, from staring too deep into his eyes and spilling your darkest secret. 

You hear Ryujin’s voice faintly through the window, impatient as ever and Jaeyun takes your hand, fingers lacing through yours like it’s second nature. Together, you rush downstairs, slipping into the night, into the reckless distraction of the party that awaits.

—

By the time you arrive, the place is already alive. Music pulses around the walls, bass vibrating under your feet. Crowds spill onto the lawn, half-drunk students laughing too loud, some already absolutely out of their face, others tucked away into dark corners with frisky hands wandering. The dim lights and shifting strobes give the illusion of being in some underground club rather than a house party.

A bit extreme but who are you to complain? You get a night of free alcohol and a few hours to forget everything plaguing your mind.

“Whose house is this?” you ask absently, eyes flicking over unfamiliar faces. 

“Kobayashi Daigo,” Yeji answers, turning toward you with an amused shake of her head. “He was in your class for, like, two years. You don’t remember?”

You blink. The name rings the faintest bell, but you have no memory of ever speaking to him. Which, honestly, isn’t surprising. You were never the type to branch out much beyond your friends. Beyond Jaeyun.

A warm breath ghosts against your ear as Jaeyun leans in. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you a drink.”

His voice is low, teasing. When his tone drops an octave like this, it makes you want to pounce on him instantly. But he doesn’t give you time to respond let alone star in your very own party-porno - his hands find your hips, guiding you through the sea of bodies toward the kitchen. His grip is tight, making sure you don’t slip away.

Ironic.

And maybe it’s reckless, maybe it’s selfish to let him believe you’ll be here forever - but for now, you let yourself melt into his touch, let yourself pretend you’re not counting down the days until you disappear.

The kitchen is warm, hazy with the scent of alcohol and something faintly sweet. Amongst the scattered bottles and half-empty cups, your eyes land on a familiar pink liquid - the unmistakable blush of Tequila Rose. Your favourite drink in the entire world. Like fate, it sits on the counter waiting just for you. But just as your fingers curl around the neck of the bottle, another hand - larger, stronger - grips it, stopping you in place.

“Princess, you want a double?” Jaeyun’s voice is smooth, teasing as he tilts the bottle in his hand, already pouring his own. His eyes flick to yours, awaiting confirmation to the answer he already knows. 

You hum, pretending to consider it, before flashing him a knowing smile. “Double.”

Jaeyun grins, pouring the shot to the very brim of the tall glass. The pale pink liquid swirls under the kitchen lights as you lift it to your lips, never once breaking eye contact.

“Cheers,” you say softly.

“Cheers, baby girl.” He knocks his own shot back with ease, slamming the glass onto the worktop with a satisfied exhale ripping from his chest. You watch, mesmerised, as his Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow, the tendons in his neck flexing ever so slightly. His tongue darts out to catch the last lingering drop at the corner of his mouth, and suddenly, the room feels too warm, your own shot burning its way down with more intensity than you expected. It’s not usually this nippy - the milky shot normally a breeze.

“You’re so hot,” you say before you can think twice, the words tumbling from your lips unfiltered.

Jaeyun’s chest rumbles with laughter, his hand already reaching for the bottle again. “I will say the exact same thing about you.” He pours two more shots. “To us, to Busan, to forever.”

The words settle deep in your chest, too heavy for a moment meant to be light. You force a smile and clink your glass against his, swallowing the second shot. The burn is sharper now, the aftertaste bitter in a way it wasn’t before.

You’ll need at least fifteen more to forget that the man in front of you is the one you’re leaving.

—

Three hours later, and the world tilts just slightly.

You aren’t wasted - not yet - but you’re perched on that fragile edge where every movement feels like floating and every sound is cushioned by the pleasant buzz in your veins. The air is heavy with laughter, with the clinking of glasses and the bass of some pop song shaking the walls. Bodies move around you, some swaying, some stumbling, all drowning in the euphoria of the night.

Jaeyun presses in close, his warmth wrapping around you as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Baby, dance with me.”

A shiver snakes down your body as he licks along the shell of your ear before guiding you toward the makeshift dance floor - formerly a living room, now an unholy mess of spilled drinks and swaying bodies. The bass thrums beneath your feet, some pop song pulsing through the speakers, though you hardly register it. Not when Jaeyun presses himself against you, his body molding to yours like second nature.

You move together effortlessly, your hips rolling against him, back arching so that your arse is flush against his front. A moan nearly escapes when you feel him harden beneath you, the heat of it seeping through his jeans. One of your hands reaches back, fingers tangling in his hair as you let yourself get lost in the feeling.

But then something shifts.

Jaeyun’s body goes rigid, his hold on you tightening - not in desire, but in something else entirely.

Curious, you glance up at him, only to find his gaze locked elsewhere, sharp and unrelenting. Following his line of sight, your stomach twists.

Sunghoon.

He’s across the room, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand, his dark eyes fixed on you. He’s not being obvious, but it’s clear enough for Jaeyun to notice, and that’s all it takes.

An uncomfy tension crackles in the air

It’s been over a year since that night - since Sunghoon made it clear he wanted you, since Jaeyun made it clear he wasn’t going to lose you. And while Sunghoon has been nothing but respectful since then, keeping his distance, Jaeyun never truly let it go. He never stopped seeing him as a threat. And now, even after all this time, Sunghoon’s gaze lingers too long, his expression unreadable.

Jaeyun’s tipsy instincts take over as his hand slides lower on your sides, the tips of his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

“Jaeyun,” you warn, voice barely audible over the music. You know where this is going.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, his fingers slip up the material covering the one place Sunghoon wants. That makes his blood boil. He bypasses your underwear with ease. The first brush of his fingertips against your clit has your breath catching in your throat.

“Jaeyun, there are too many people. Let’s just go some-” Your words die as he presses down, a slow, torturous circle. He doesn’t want to go somewhere private, he wants the dark haired boy across the room to see the way you crumble under your boyfriend’s touch.

Your body betrays you, melting against him as heat blooms low in your belly. The music fades into nothing, the chatter of the party a distant hum. It’s just his touch, his breath against your skin, the steady drag of his fingers as they dip lower to your entrance.

“I’m serious, Yunnie,” you manage to whisper, though it’s weak, barely a plea. “There are bedroom’s upstairs-”

He cuts you off again with a sharp press of his thumb, and your words dissolve into a soft, choked whimper. He knew exactly how to get you to see his way, and drunk you is a little less anxious about getting caught because this would not be happening if you weren’t six shots and three double vodka cranberries down.

Jaeyun smirks against your skin, his lips brushing over the mark he left on your neck earlier, tracing it lazily with his tongue. That fire you felt before leaving suddenly rises back to the hickey as it begs to be nipped and soothed. 

And he is giving it to you. His tongue over exaggeratedly flicks over the mark as he rolls his eyes back, thumb rubbing a bit more roughly on your clit. He isn’t touching you for your pleasure alone. He’s making a point. A very, very public one.

His eyes stay locked on Sunghoon’s bewildered ones. 

You don’t know that this isn’t the first time Jaeyun has asserted his dominance over the tall, slim boy. He usually does it subtly; a hot kiss, playing with your hair, or even pulling you into his side as you roam the hallways. Some instances were simply because he wanted too, others were because Sunghoon’s beady eyes were trailing on your figure.

But now he’s stamping the statement into Sunghoon’s mind forever. You are his and no one elses. 

Your knees nearly buckle when he pushes two fingers inside you, curling just right, hitting that spot that has you gripping onto his arms for support, nails digging into his veins as you gasp.

He chuckles lowly, his mouth grazing your ear. “You want me to stop, baby?” His tone is mocking, knowing full well you can’t answer, and even if you did, your answer would definitely not be yes. Not when his fingers are moving faster, his thumb rubbing you raw.

You toss your head back against his shoulder, mouth falling open in a silent moan. Jaeyun buries his face in your neck, whispering sweet nothings into your heated skin. You barely process anything beyond the rush of pleasure building, the coil tightening, your body completely at his mercy.

“Good girl,” he breathes, voice thick with satisfaction.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Not here. Not with the entire party swirling around you, bodies just inches away. But no one notices. No one but Sunghoon, whose jaw is tight, eyes dark with a cocktail mix of envy, disgust, and defeat.

And Jaeyun sees it, eliciting a smirk smothered with satisfaction.

“Cum for me, princess,” he murmurs, fingers relentless as he works you over the edge. “Show them it’s me that makes you feel this good.”

His wrist flicks as he sets a steady rhythm that will have you leaking over his digits in a matter of seconds. The tip of his fingers massage your sweet spot, coaxing every atom in your body to let go, to give him everything. 

And just like that. the coil snaps.

Your orgasm crashes over you, and it takes everything in you not to moan like a desperate little thing in the middle of the party and alert everyone to you and your boyfriend’s exhibitionism. Your nails dig into Jaeyun’s arms harsh enough to leave dents as you ride out your high, body trembling against him as you clamp his hand with your thighs.

Across the room, Sunghoon coughs awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably before turning away, jaw tight, expression unreadable. 

Jaeyun, victorious, only chuckles behind your ear, pulling his fingers from you before turning you to face him.

“Good?” he asks, voice still tinged with amusement.

You let out a breathless laugh, still lightheaded from the intensity of it all. “Fantastic.”

His grin widens, something almost predatory glinting in his gaze. The without warning, he brings his hand up and slips his fingers into your mouth. You gasp, but your lips close around them instinctively. He watches you, utterly transfixed, as you lap your tongue over his digits, tasting yourself, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your swollen lips as he pulls his fingers free.

Your heart pounds as you stare into his eyes, love and guilt journey through your heart - both long staying passengers.

The night is still young, the drinks still flowing, and the music still loud. 

This party was exactly what you needed.

________

Two days. That’s all the time you have left before you leave everything behind. The weight of it sits heavy in your chest, pressing down with every breath, an ache that refuses to leave you alone. It has all went in too quickly, this past month filled with so many memories that you will never ever forget.

It makes you wonder if you made the right choice by not breaking up with Jaeyun once you found out you wouldn’t be going to Busan. 

You try to push your thoughts aside as you doddle about the convenience store for your last shift. It’s a shitty job but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it in some strange, sentimental way. The regulars, your boss, the co-workers you spent mindless hours with. Even the tedious restocking and the beep of the register have become part of a routine you weren’t quite ready to let go of.

You won’t miss the bright blue uniform, though.

The memory of when you first got the job sneaks up on you, unbidden. You can still hear Jaeyun’s excitement, see the way his eyes lit up as if you’d just been appointed CEO of a million pound company. “My beautiful, hardworking girl. I can’t even begin to describe the pride in my heart,” he had gushed, lifting you up effortlessly, spinning you around in his arms before preppering kisses all over your face. That grin of his, so wide and earnest, the sheer adoration in his gaze - it still floods your senses now, making your stomach turn in happiness and grievance. He had even suggested celebratory sex, because of course he would. Any excuse to have you bouncing on his cock.

The thought is cut short when a pair of familiar arms snake around your waist, strong and certain, pulling you back against a firm chest. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. The warmth of his body, the way he fits against you so perfectly - it’s a feeling you know too well.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jaeyun murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck as he places featherlight kisses along the skin. His scent washes over you - citrus with a woody undertone, grounding and intoxicating. You sink into him for just a second before forcing yourself to stand firm. You can’t get lost in him now. Not with just over 48-hours left.

“Miss me?” he teases, his breath warm against your ear.

You sigh, but there’s no real exasperation in it, a playful annoyance almost. “Jaeyun, I’m working.”

Turning in his arms, you meet his gaze, and instantly, regret coils tight in your chest. He looks at you with so much love, so much trust, so much unguarded sincerity that it makes everything you’ve been doing - everything you’ve been hiding - feel like a slow, cruel betrayal.

He doesn’t deserve any of this.

Jaeyun smiles obliviously as he presses a lingering kiss to your lips, then another, and another. Each one is soft and sweet, savouring the simple moment, like he never wants to stop. You can feel his grin against your mouth, the way he breathes you in.

“You get off soon,” he murmurs. “Just bail early.”

His lips trail down your jaw, pressing against the sensitive skin just below your ear. It’s so easy to give in, to let yourself melt into him and forget that you’re meant to be working.

“Baby,” you whine, pouting as you try to focus on stacking the cans on the shelf. “Let me finish.”

Jaeyun’s grip on your waist tightens slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “I can make you finish if you want.”

His voice is low, teasing, sinful. His teeth nip at your earlobe, and you swear you can feel the smirk forming on his lips. Your breath hitches, and Jaeyun chuckles, because he knows. He knows exactly what he does to you. He can hear your heart pounding, can feel the way your body tenses ever so slightly in response to his touch. And in his mind, that’s proof enough that you were made for him.

You shake your head, trying - and failing - to suppress a smile. “I will attend to your every need when my shift is over, but for the next twenty minutes, these cans of butter beans have my full attention.”

He groans dramatically. “Oh…butter beans. I love it when you talk dirty.” He snaps his teeth together, biting the air mischievously. 

You swat at his chest playfully, laughter spilling from your lips before you can stop it. You’ll miss this. God, you’ll miss this. Maybe you should just tell him. Maybe you should change your plans. You could find a job in Busan, surely. Stay here, with him. 

The thought lingers for a moment, dangerous and tempting, but you push it away, tucking it deep into the back of your mind. If you do that, you’ll be reliant on him, causing unnecessary stress and endangering his future. 

Instead, you reach up, wrapping your arms around Jaeyun’s neck, holding him close. “Sim Jaeyun, you are the most infuriating person I have ever met,” you say, shaking your head fondly.

Sunlight filters through the store windows, casting a soft glow on his face. His golden skin practically gleams in the light, his dark eyes glinting with mischief as he beams down at you.

“You love me, though,” he says confidently.

You swallow, your chest tightening. “So much.” 

Too much.

Jaeyun grins like a lovesick puppy, dropping a quick kiss to your lips. “Good. Then hurry up and get this shift out of the way so I can have you all to myself.”

With that, he pecks you one last time before pulling away, leaving the store in a hurry. His movements are eager, excited. He has plans.

And you? You have no idea what’s coming.

___

Jaeyun taps his fingers anxiously against the steering wheel as he dials Heeseung’s number. The call connects after two rings.

“Yes, Jake, for the millionth time, everything is set up,” Heeseung sighs, exasperated but amused at his best friends constant calls for reassurance. “I followed your strict, to-the-point plan exactly as instructed.”

Jaeyun exhales, running a hand through his hair, a bit of relief swirling in his chest despite the nerves still sitting in his stomach. “Thanks, mate. I owe you one. And the r-”

“In the glove compartment. I told you, everything is sorted.”

Jaeyun checks quickly, flipping the compartment open. There it is - a small, neatly wrapped white box, tied with a pink satin ribbon, the edges dusted in silver glitter. He stares at it for a long moment, fear creeping in despite himself.

“She’s gonna love it,” Heeseung reassures him. “You know she loves anything if it has to do with you.”

Jaeyun’s throat tightens slightly, but he smiles. If there was one person who believes in this relationship almost as much as he does, it’s Heeseung. He has been here through everything - every late-night phone call where Jaeyun rambled about how perfect you were, every moment of insecurity, every little update about your favourite songs or perfumes. Jaeyun is obsessed, and Heeseung has certainly suffered the consequences of it.

“Jake, stop overthinking it,” Heeseung laughs. “You guys are meant to be. If this doesn’t work out, then I don’t believe in love.” His best friend isn’t lying either, he has never seen a couple so destined to be with one another, not even his parents who are sickeningly in love.

High school sweethearts come together and fall apart as they grow into new people, the pieces that used to meld with one another growing and shrinking too much to fit together anymore. But you and Jaeyun? Anyone can see - especially Heeseung - that your relationship is not a puzzle but the tree the cardboard is made from, each just developing branches to fill out your love rather than break it. In the winter nights when the leaves fall and darkness looms, you grow ringlets in the trunk of your love, never snapping under the wind.

That’s exactly how Heeseung sees you both. Destined. Molded. Forever.

Jaeyun chuckles, shaking his head. He doesn’t even entertain the possibility of not being with you. Of course, you’re meant to be. That’s not a question. It’s a fact.

A glimpse of you walking out of the store catches his attention. “Shit, she’s coming. Thanks again, mate.”

He shoves the box into the side pocket of the car door just as you open the passenger side, sliding in. You’ve changed into a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but to Jaeyun, you might as well be wearing a Vivienne Westwood dress with the way you look like the most beautiful person on earth.

“Hey,” he greets softly, his voice airy.

“I wish you would’ve told me we were doing something. I would’ve brought nicer clothes to change into,” you pout, suddenly feeling stifled in the simple mum jeans despite their comfort.

Jaeyun scoffs playfully, his eyes flicking toward you as he starts the car. “You say that like Aphrodite herself doesn’t worship the ground you walk on, even in jeans.”

Your stomach flips. He always had a way with words, a gift for making you feel like the most breathtaking thing to ever grace the earth - and to him you are. Beautiful and gorgeous were never enough for him - those words are too ordinary, too overused. Jaeyun needs something grander, something worthy of you. Even when words fail him, he still tries, determined to make you feel as exquisite as he saw you.

Still, you can only roll your eyes, cheeks warm in a rose blush as you buckle your seatbelt. He busies himself with the music, fingers expertly flicking through cassette tapes in the centre console. His car - an ancient black 1998 Honda Civic he bought for pennies from a distant uncle - came equipped with a cassette player instead of an aux, something Jaeyun delighted in. 

It gave him the perfect excuse to make mixtapes, just like in those early 2000s films. He even made one for your Christmas road trip, packed with songs that reminded him of you. Most of them were love songs, but one track - Hotel Room Service by Pitbull to be exact — had snuck in by accident, and he’d never figured out how to remove it. It became your song after that, something that made you both dissolve into laughter whenever it played yet still held sentimental value.

“I think I’ve created the best mixtape of all time,” Jaeyun boasts, wagging a cassette between his fingers before sliding it in. “You’re gonna love it.”

The first song hums through the speakers, the familiar melody of Love is All Around by Wetter filling the car.

Your heart clenches with joy. “My favourite song.”

Jaeyun’s lips curl into a triumphant smile as his hand finds yours, bringing it to his mouth for a soft kiss. “It’s slowly becoming my favourite, too.” His eyes linger on you, and the warmth in them nearly undoes you. “You know, they’re playing a show in Busan this autumn. If you want, I’ll grab us tickets since we’ll be up there anyway.”

Your breath catches. The sickness rising from your stomach, a tight, suffocating thing that robs the colour from your face. He’s already planning for the future, your supposed future where you live happily ever after. 

Tell him. Just tell him.

“Jaeyun, I-”

“I’ll get them next payday,” he cuts in easily, like it’s already decided. “They’ve had tickets available for ages, so I don’t think they’ll sell out in the next couple of weeks.” He squeezes your hand, focused on the road, thumb tracing soft circles into your skin.

You swallow the lump in your throat, force a smile, and thank him. Then, you turn to the window, staring out as the world blurs past. You mentally curse yourself, hating yourself for giving him another nugget of hope. All these tiny threads of future that he’s weaving into your lives are about to be cut loose, and that will only make it harder for him.

Jaeyun isn’t dumb though, he notices the shift in you - the way you clam up, the way your fingers twitch slightly in his grasp - but he doesn’t say anything. Not yet. He knows you well enough to wait. 

The drive takes exactly thirty-two minutes, and for thirty-one of them, Jaeyun holds your hand, squeezing it intermittently. The other minute, he spends drinking water to ease the dryness in his throat, a nervous habit when he’s overthinking. He’s been rehearsing everything in his head, making sure every detail is perfect. You deserve perfection.

When the car finally rolls to a stop, he turns to you, smiling. “We’re here, princess.”

Lost in your mind, you unbuckle your seatbelt, not registering exactly where you are. As he steps out of the car, he swiftly rushes around and opens your door for you. One hand gestures grandly toward the grassy hill before you, the other extended to help you out.

“Right this way.”

You side-eye him as you step out, wary of the incline. “Making me walk after a six-hour shift should be illegal, you know that?”

Jaeyun beams, like he was waiting for you to say that, always predicting your next move. Although, there seems to be one he is oblivious too. “Ah, see, I knew you’d complain about that.” He turns his back to you, kneeling slightly. “That’s why I’m going to carry you.”

Your eyes widen. “You cannot be serious.”

He twists his head to look at you, scandalised. “Does my girlfriend not have faith in her very strong, very capable boyfriend?” He raises a brow, scoffing when he sees the doubt written all over your face. “Trust me. Get on and have some faith in your man, please.”

A genuine laugh escapes you as you see him puff out his chest. He’s impossible sometimes, but still, you oblige, climbing onto his back and wrapping your arms around his shoulders as his hands secure your thighs. He hoists you up with surprising ease, and you gape at him. “Have you been working out, be honest this time?”

Jaeyun grins, flexing one arm dramatically as he starts walking. “Babygirl, I’ve been packing these guns since birth. John Cena is jealous.”

You rest your chin on his shoulder, giggling. “Oh yeah? That so?”

“Mmhm. He looks up reference pictures of me when he’s trying to achieve his goals. A bit of motivation for him.” He presses a quick kiss to your cheek as you giggle at his ridiculous notion. “Now, hold on tight. We’re heading to the top.”

“To the top!” you echo, laughing, as he takes the first step up the hill.

Surprisingly, Jaeyun reaches the top without stopping once, and although his breathing is heavier, his grip on you is unwavering. When he finally sets you down, his arms tense, veins pronounced from the strain of holding you up. They stand out boldly beneath his skin, and you can’t help but stare. God, they’re perfect.

It’s the one thing you’ve never been able to get over about your boyfriend. Those forearms have haunted one too many wet dreams of yours - and he knows it. 

At school, he’d make a habit of rolling up his sleeves when you shared a class, his smirk barely concealed as he caught you ogling him. He took pride in it, in the way you practically drooled. Before coming over to yours one night, he’d even spent time flexing, clenching and unclenching his fists to make sure his veins were as defined as possible. His efforts had paid off - the night had ended with you riding his fingers, nails digging into his forearms, desperate to feel them beneath your touch.

“Baby?” Jaeyun’s voice pulls you back to the present. He’s bent forward slightly, head tilted as he waves a hand in front of your face, his grin lopsided. “You in there?”

Blinking, you shake off the haze of memory. “Hmm?”

“I said - ta-da!” 

He hops on the balls of his feet, throwing his arms out as if presenting the grand finale of a magic trick, sort of like the Will Smith meme but less ridgid, more comical despite his obvious nerves.

Your gaze follows the sweep of his hands, and suddenly, your breath catches in your throat, pulse thumping as you get overwhelmed with the sight.

A pair of trees stands before you, their trunks wrapped - no, tangled - in strings of fairy lights, their golden glow casting a soft halo over the picnic laid out beneath them. A bouquet of flowers sits in the centre, spare petals scattered across the blanket like fallen stars. Two woven baskets accompany the arrangement, lids slightly ajar, revealing glimpses of the feast inside. A trail of rose petals leads up to the setup, their deep red hues stark against the grass.

For a moment, you can’t speak. How can you when you’re facing one of the most romantic settings you have ever witnessed.

Jaeyun shifts his weight, rubbing the back of his neck, his usual confidence wavering at your silence. “I know it’s cheesy and cliché,” he says with an axnious chuckle, “but I remember you reading about this in one of your books and saying you loved the idea of a midnight picnic.” He exhales through his nose, sheepish. “I know it’s not midnight, but-”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, your lips press against his, cutting off his rambling explanation, hoping that even a slither of your gratitude can be passed through the movement of your lips. Jaeyun exhales into the kiss, tension melting from his shoulders as his hands settle on your side. His relief is palpable. You like it. That’s all that matters.

When you finally pull away, he’s grinning, fingers lacing through yours. “Come on,” he murmurs, guiding you forward.

The rose petals crunch softly beneath your feet, but you barely notice. Your eyes remain fixed on him - on the way his dark hair falls slightly over his forehead, shorter than when you first met; on the way his side-parted bangs frame his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw. He’s grown into himself over the years, but he’s still your Jaeyun. Still the boy who whispers puppy love nothings in your ear any chance he gets. Still the boy who looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

He’s yours.

At least for now.

“I got you all your favourites,” Jaeyun continues, oblivious to the turmoil brewing in your chest. “Kimchi pancakes, tteokbokki, some chicken and spinach samosas-”

His voice fades into the background. Your heart is so full - but a filled heart means there is more to break. And yours is just about being demolished.

“I love you, Jaeyun.” The words escape before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered. It’s the only thing you can say at the moment, scared that if you attempt another word you’ll blubber.

Jaeyun has heard you say it a thousand times before, but something about this time feels different. The weight behind it is heavier, more deliberate. So beautifully raw but…sad.

His body stills for half a second before his hands slide to your hips, grounding you in place. His gaze flickers over your face, searching, but he doesn’t question it. Instead, he lets out a soft breath, voice steady.

“I love you too, Y/N. So fucking much.”

His heart swells, so big he thinks it might rupture.

It’s incredible how two people can have a heart so full yet while his structure is solid, determined, yours is being chipped away at with each passing second of the ticking clock. This will end soon, and you can’t tell who will have a harder time building back the pieces. 

The kiss he gives you next has tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. It’s slow but filled with a confession of its own. He kisses you like he’s memorising the way you taste, like he’s trying to etch this moment into his bones. It’s amatory yet pure, a love so deep it defies any logical explanation. It’s not something that can be theorised or dissected.

It’s yours. It’s his.

And in two days, you’re giving it up.

Jaeyun pulls you down onto the blanket, settling beside you as he begins unpacking the baskets. The scent of the food fills the air, and your stomach rumbles in response. Everything looks perfect.

Jaeyun watches the way your eyes light up at the sight of the spread, and he makes a mental note to thank Jay when he sees him next. “Here, take a bite, baby girl.” He lifts a piece of tteokbokki with his chopsticks, holding it out for you.

You oblige, opening wide and letting the flavours burst on your tongue. 

And that’s when you know he didn’t make this.

Jaeyun can barely cook a frozen lasagne without setting off the fire alarm, let alone pull off a meal like this.

Suddenly, laughter bubbles up from your chest, causing Jaeyun to cock his head in wonder. “What’s so funny?”

You wave a hand dismissively, memories flashing through your mind - It had been your 100-day anniversary, and he’d wanted to cook for you. It ended with Jaeyun, flailing a green and yellow dish towel under the fire alarm, a burnt pizza in the oven, and his dad standing nearby, arms crossed, delivering a very long-winded lecture on the importance of life skills. 

“It’s nothing,” you say, grinning. “I’m just happy.”

Jaeyun beams at that, your happiness of the upmost importance to him.

The rest of the evening unfolds in golden hues and easy laughter. The fairy lights flicker softly, casting a glow over everything, making the moment feel almost unreal. You pretend, just for a little while, that nothing is wrong. That there’s no expiration date on this love.

But while you’re pushing down your anxiety, Jaeyun’s is flared with each moment ticking by. He has been waiting for this moment for a long time.

As the last remnants of food disappear, his heartbeat grows louder, pounding against his ribs. He grips the edge of the blanket, trying to steady himself.

“Um, Y/N?” His voice is hesitant, uncertain. You immediately set down your plate, your full attention on him as you begin to notice the tiny shake in his hands.

“Yeah?”

Sweat beads along his forehead. He swallows thickly, his fingers flexing against the fabric beneath him.

Your stomach knots instantly at his apprehensive stature. Does he know? Is he about to tell you that he’s known your plan all along? That he’s doing all of this to convince you to stay? Is he giving up everything for you?

Or…is it simply too warm this evening?

“Hoo, okay, so-” Jaeyun exhales sharply, shifting his entire body to face you. His hands tremble as they clasp yours; they’re smaller, delicate in comparison, yet still manage to steady him in a way nothing else can. “I love you so much,” he begins, then falters, sucking in a breath. “And, uh, okay, um-”

He had rehearsed this moment a hundred times. Sat on Heeseung’s bedroom floor, the elder pretending to be you - going as far as threatening to put on a wig and eyeliner for authenticity and immersion.Heeseung takes his roles very seriously.

“I need to get into character!” Heeseung had proclaimed dramatically, sending Jaeyun into a fit of laughter, the boys barely making it through one runthrough.

Now, though, standing before you, his mind is blank. The words he’d carefully strung together dissolve the second he looks at you - obviously this was much easier with Heeseung and a bad lipstick job. 

No you are much more intimidating. The golden hour sun kisses your skin, turning you ethereal, unreal. He has no choice but to take another deep breath, shaking off the nerves, or attempting to at least..

“I love you,” he tries again, steadier this time. “I have ever since that first day at school.” His gaze drops to the sun necklace resting between you collarbones - the one he bought you for your birthday - before flicking back to your eyes. “You took the breath from my lungs, and honestly? Every time I look at you, I still forget how to breathe.”

A wry smile tugs at his lips as he continues.

“I don’t know if soulmates are real, or twin flames, or matches made in heaven…but, baby, you’re all of them to me, I know it. I curse the stars every night because people admire them for being beautiful, when you are the brightest thing in the universe. You’re my sun, my moon, all my stars.”

He inhales shakily, as if steadying himself, his hands running so cold that he feels pins and needles starting to tingle the tips of his fingers.

“You deserve all the admiration they get. And if I can spend the rest of my life looking at you, studying you, loving you like some devoted astronomer -  then I’ll know I’ve lived my life well.”

A beat. Two hearts, thundering against ribcages. The love between you, palpable, enough to heal nations - enough to ruin you.

Jaeyun reaches into his pocket, retrieving a small box. His fingers shake violently as he hands it to you. “I want you to know,” he murmurs, voice nearly cracking with emotion, “I’m so serious about us, Y/N.”

The weight of the box settles into your palm, and suddenly it feels like the entire world is sitting there, waiting to be opened. His words mixed with the unexpected gift saw at your heart, guilt overwhelming your bloodstream.

“Open it,” he huffs, exhaling like he’s spent months holding his breath.

You peel away the soft pink ribbon, lifting the lid to reveal two delicate silver rings rest side by side. Small, simple bands with a single heart at the centre - nothing extravagant, yet everything that matters. Beside them, two identical silver keys.

Jaeyun shifts, scooting closer, his fingers brushing against yours as he lifts one of the rings.

“Before you freak out—I’m not proposing,” he chuckles weakly, though his laugh barely makes it past his lips. His thumb smooths over the band as he stares at it, his mind lost somewhere between the past and the future.

“This is my promise to you,” he continues, voice quieter now. “That from now until forever, I am yours.”

He lifts your left hand, taking your pinky between his fingers before slowly, deliberately, sliding the ring on. “A pinky ring,” he murmurs gently, “until I can get you a real wedding ring.”

The tears welling in your eyes spill over, laughter bubbling from your lips despite yourself. You recognise the lyrics embedded in his words, his love language tucked between the sentiment. The ring fits perfectly. Of course, it does.

You don’t even have to ask to know - he saved up for these. Every penny from his part-time job, every late-night shift worked with you in mind. They are not designer rings. They are not diamond-encrusted. But they are everything. Because they are his. Because they are yours. And his devotion to you is priceless.

Jaeyun hesitates for a moment before picking up one of the keys, rolling it between his fingers. “This,” he says, his voice a tiny bit more confident now that you’re wearing the ring, “is the key to our flat in Busan.”

Your breath stutters.

“I know we should be living in dorms,” he continues, his eyes flickering between the key and your face, gauging your reaction. “But I struck a really good deal with the landlady—she’s sweet, she likes me. And I just-”  His voice dips as the truth sits on the edge of his tongue, being pushed forward by raw emotion. “I don’t think I could go a day in this life without seeing you. And if we live together, I won’t have to.”

He places the key in your open palm, his own curling over yours, holding it there with promise.

The tears streaking down your cheeks, once born of joy, are suddenly unbearable with sorrow.

He doesn’t know you’re leaving.

You have told yourself it’s for the best. That leaving now, cutting ties cleanly, would hurt less than watching him drift away piece by piece. That letting him go would save you both.

But staring at the key, at the boy in front of you…your resolve crumbles and your heart splinters.

Jaeyun shifts, sensing your hesitation. Panic flickers in his eyes. “Baby, if this is too fast, we can-”

You don’t let him finish.

Your lips crash against his, swallowing whatever reassurance he was about to offer. You don’t know what to do. You feel remorseful and devastated but his hopeful smile and readily beating heart are calling out to you to just melt into the moment. Even if it’s selfish, even if it’s cruel to lead him on like this, your heart yearns for him.

His breath stutters, but he melts into you instantly, fingers threading through your hair, each strand wrapping around his fingers like an anchoring rope. Your hands slide over his shoulders, gripping, grounding. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, familiar and safe.

Jaeyun doesn’t need words. This - your touch, your kiss, your hands clutching him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this world - this is enough to know you feel the same way he does.

But while his heart and mind are at ease, his body needs more.

Jaeyun scoops you up in one swift motion, carrying you down the hill and to his car, leaving the evidence of your love behind in the branches. He wonder if Heeseung’s help extends to a clean-up job.

“I need to make love to you so bad,” he grumbles, his voice thick with longing as his lips smooch at yours messily. “But not in this car.”

____ 

The drive to his house is a blur of desperate touches, your fingers trailing over his wrist, his palm resting on your thigh. He speeds recklessly, tunnel-visioned, the pinky ring on your hand glinting in the dim light.

You are his. He is yours.

By the time he parks, Jaeyun is already reaching for you, his hands making way to your hips as he all but pushes you up the stairs. The second the bedroom door shuts behind you, he’s pressing you against it, his lips urgent, messy, needing.

“Princess,” he groans when your hand presses against his growing arousal. “You’re dangerous.”

You laugh - genuinely, fully. The last real laugh you’ll have for a long time.

Jaeyun doesn’t notice. He’s too focused on yanking his T-shirt over his head, the fabric slipping off in a single, fluid motion. His bare chest is in front of you now, the fading hickeys from last week still scattered over his skin.

He doesn’t waste another second.

Bending slightly, he grips your thighs, lifting you with ease. His lips find your jaw, your cheeks, your temple - whispering against your skin in a voice filled with reverence. “So beautiful. All mine.” 

Your heart aches. You wish you could tell him. But instead, you let him love you for one of the last times.

Jaeyun groans against your skin, his breath warm as he presses you onto the bed, his chest never leaving yours. His hands explore your body with deliberate intent, fingertips mapping out every inch of your exposed skin as though memorising it. A soft hum vibrates through him, an unspoken appreciation of the heat radiating from your body.

“I know, Princess,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting along your jaw, his voice thick with amusement. “But you’re gonna be a good girl and wait for me, yeah?” The smirk laced in his words only makes you ache more. 

You whimper, desperation evident in the way your body arches toward him, and he chuckles, his voice husky with satisfaction. With deft hands, he unbuttons your jeans, dragging both them and your underwear down in one fluid motion, leaving you bare beneath him.

His dark eyes devour the sight of you, hunger etched all over his features as his fingers trace feather-light patterns over your skin. “All mine,” he whispers, the words more reverent than possessive, a quiet declaration of something deeper than lust. His lips follow the path of his fingertips, pressing slow, lingering kisses up your inner thigh, his pace torturously unhurried. He thinks he has all the time in the world.

You’re drenched, your body trembling with need. He exhales sharply with an undercurrent of amusement peaking through. His fingers ghost over your slick folds, spreading them open for a better look. “So wet, baby. I don’t even think you need me to prep you.” The teasing lilt in his voice makes you whimper, and the featherlight press of his lips against your clit sends a jolt through your body.

“No, Yunie, please.” The nickname slips from your lips in your desperation, your voice breathless, utterly undone. You love his cock and the need to get fucked is actually unbearable, but honestly, you love how he plays with you. His laughter is warm against your skin, the vibration making your toes curl. He’s so close but so out of reach that it’s almost painful.

His hand tightens on your thigh, spreading you wider for him as he trails deliberate kisses across your core. The heat of his tongue dragging over you makes your breath stutter, and your hands fly to his hair, fingers weaving through the soft strands, tugging, pulling him closer. He groans at the sensation, the sound sending a fresh pulse of arousal through you.

“Tell me what you need, Y/N,” he coaxes, his voice low, husky, vibrating against you as his tongue continues its agonisingly slow exploration, like a tourist with weeks left of their holiday.

“F-fingers,” you gasp, shame abandoned in favour of pure desire. “I want your fingers.”

He hums in mock contemplation, dragging the pads of his fingers along your entrance. “These fingers?” The playful edge to his voice is maddening but before you can protest, he pushes two fingers inside you, slow but insistent. Your mouth falls open, head tilting back as pleasure washes over you. He watches you intently, his gaze dark and fixed on the way your body reacts to him.

Watching you wriggle and writhe gets him hard, his cock swelling with lust and pride. You’re so responsive to his touches that it’s addicting, it makes him want to just play with your pretty pussy forever. And honestly? If his cock wasn’t so greedy, he would.

As his fingers curl, finding that perfect spot, a shudder wracks through you. You grip his sheets as you arch, simultaneously trying to escape while seeking more. Your body erupts with excitement as it feels Jaeyun’s lips back on your cunt, making out with it gently, working in tandem with his fingers to coax an orgasm from you.

“You taste amazing, baby,” he compliments sincerely, lapping you up like a thirsty pup. “So fucking sweet.”

You’ve never believed him when he says that, but the way he groans into your pussy and slurps at you like you’re the last remnants of a Capri Sun, you’re inclined to believe him. You boyfriend worships you, adores everything about you and that includes your pretty slick.

Jaeyun’s biggest fear is drowning but if he was to be sucked under into an ocean of your essence, he will happily let his lungs fill with liquid. 

Groaning, Jaeyun huffs into your pussy, his fingers curling as if he’s calling you forward - or rather, you orgasm. The tip of his fingers scrape along the soft part of your walls and you squeal out, trying to run away, the sensation too much to handle.

“Shhh, baby,” he soothes, kissing softly to your clit, a tender gesture compared to the grip one of his hands has on you to keep you in place. “Was it too much?”

He peers up at you through his lashes and sees you nodding desperately, chest heaving and eyes rolling in a daze. He has you exactly where he wants you; on the brink. He just needs to push your buttons once more to get you soaking his features with your juices.

Picking up his pace, he laughs into your folds as he jackhammers it home and you thighs instantly clamp him into place. He’s in heaven. This is what being a saint gets people - not an eternity in paradise but the opportunity to suffocate between their lover’s legs.

“Gonna cum for me already, Princess? So soon?” His muffled voice drips with satisfaction, but he doesn’t relent. He adds another finger, stretching you in the most delicious way, his tongue flicking against your clit in perfect synchronisation with his thrusts.

Your walls tighten, your body teetering on the precipice. “Let go, angel,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. That’s all it takes - his fingers thrusting, his tongue teasing, the sheer dominance in his voice. Your orgasm crashes over you, a broken cry of his name spilling from your lips as pleasure floods through you.

He doesn’t stop until your body begins to tremble with overstimulation, his movements slowing, easing you through the aftershocks. You’re lost in the labyrinth of euphoria and you need him to help you out, to guide you back to reality as he gently pulls out his fingers. His mouth still showers your core with gentle kisses, though. 

He’s not so cruel to rip everything away from you just yet.

After a few moments of panting and gasping for oxygen, you push yourself up on your elbows, eyes locking onto him. His lips glisten with you, his expression dark and unreadable, pride evident in the way he studies you. The image sears itself into your memory, something to cling to when he’s not by your side.

“You’re so fucking hot when you cum like that,” he murmurs, kissing his way up your body, each press of his lips softer than the last. “Like I’m the only one who can do that to you.”

You let out a breathy laugh, fingers threading through his hair, pushing the damp strands from his face. “Jaeyun, you are the only one I’ve ever had sex with so yes, you are the only one who can do that to me.”

He chuckles, his forehead pressing to your stomach, but his next words make your heart clench. “And I’ll always be the only one. You’re mine forever, Y/N.”

The heaviness of his words sits uncomfortably on your chest. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what’s coming.

Before he can notice the shift in your expression, you push it down, forcing a sultry smirk. “Then fuck me. Show me exactly what you can do.”

His pupils darken and expand, melting into unrestrained desire. He reaches for the drawer, retrieving an ultra-thin condom, slipping it on with impatient ease. He won’t lie, he’s desperate to be engulfed by you, so in a flash, the head of his cock drags along your folds before pressing against your entrance, teasing. A sharp gasp escapes your lips at the sensation, need pooling low in your stomach.

“Say please, and I’ll think about it,” he taunts you, his voice smug, but you know he’s just as needy -  if not more.

“Please,” you whisper, “Please fuck me, Jaeyun.” The plea is barely past your lips before he captures them in a searing kiss, pushing into you with a deep, slow stroke, his hips rolling beautifully flush against you.

A ragged breath leaves him as he bottoms out, your walls squeezing around him in a way that makes his jaw slacken and eyes scrunch shut. His pace is slow at first, allowing you to adjust to him for at least a few minutes before restraint gives way to need. His thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, and his left hand finds yours, fingers intertwining, a silent tether that brings you even closer together.

His lips brush against your pinky, a soft kiss against the silver ring he gave you, a promise to always be yours embedded in the gesture. And before you know it, it’s all too much and you begin to cry feel the tears before you realise you’re crying. 

All your emotions come out at once due to his sweet actions because suddenly it’s too hard to bottle everything up. The love, the fear, the disappointment, the guilt, the anguish. It’s all flooding from your eyes as your heart bursts with ache.

Jaeyun notices how your chest begins to vibrate, and not in the gasping for air because he’s fucking you so good kind of way. No. It’s shaking through sobs and he immediately pauses his ministrations.

“Hey,” he kisses your tears, his voice laced with concern. “Princess, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat as you try and rid yourself of the abundance of emotion. “No, baby,” your voice wobbles, raw and filled with everything you can’t say. “I just love you so much, that’s all.”

Jaeyun has his doubts for a second, your eyes glinting in sadness - it’s so fast he almost doesn’t catch it. But concern is washed away as you lean up to kiss him, soft and gentle. The love in your lips conveying enough to put his mind at ease. 

Drawing back and brushing the tears from your cheeks, Jaeyun smiles down at you. “You had me worried, sweetheart.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I love you too. Till my last dying breath, okay?”

Your heart twists painfully, but his slow thrusts pull you back to the moment, grounding you in the way he moves, in the way he makes you feel.

And right now, that’s all that matters.

He groans against your ear, his pace growing rougher, more desperate now that he knows your okay. The heat between you is overwhelming, bodies moving in sync, chasing that inevitable bliss. His hand slips between you, fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing tight, pressuered circles.

“You’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you?” His voice is thick, strained with pleasure. “I can feel it. Let me have it, baby.”

The pressure builds, overwhelming, the pleasure winding so tightly it feels like you might snap apart. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, his thrusts driving deeper, hitting all the right places. And then it happens again - the coil within you shatters, pleasure crashing over you in waves, your entire body trembling beneath him.

He groans loudly as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, your release pulling him over the edge with you. His thrusts turning erratic as his control frays and he follows you into bliss. His body stills, buried deep inside you, his breath coming in ragged pants against you, spilling into the condom.

For a moment, neither of you move, caught in the haze of each other. Then, with a shaky laugh, he presses a lingering kiss to your lips. “Perfect,” he murmurs, still breathless. “You’re perfect.”

You curl into him, letting the warmth of his body envelop you, not one of you bothering to part just yet - enjoying the intimacy of just being connected to one another like this.

If only you could stay like this forever.

________

The morning sun spills through Jaeyun’s window, casting a dawning glow over the room. Your boyfriend’s body is draped over yours, the warmth of his bare skin pressed against you like a safety you know you can no longer allow yourself to have. His breath is slow and steady, the rise and fall of his chest soothing as he sleeps peacefully, a contrast to how you are feeling right now. 

The silver ring on his pinky glints in the sunlight, catching your eye like a cruel reminder of what you are about to do. Why the fuck didn’t you tell him last night?

You now have one more day with him - one more chance to hold onto this love - but after last night, you know you can’t risk another second in his presence.

Every inch of you screams that this is a mistake. If you love him this much, surely you can make long distance work. But it’s just not that simple. You’ve already made your choice, and now you have to live with it. 

Jaeyun will be fine. Busan is full of beautiful girls - girls who are interesting, spectacular, and everything he will need in a partner. He won’t need you anymore. He will find someone else, someone who won’t run. 

Deep down, you know this will hurt him, but he’s strong. He’ll get over it.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slip out from under his arm as gently as possible, heart clenching in panic when he stirs - luckily for you doesn’t wake up. You keep your movements careful, as if the universe might give you more time if you just move slowly enough. Every glance at him - his tousled hair, his puffy lips that you love to kiss so much parted slightly in sleep - makes it harder to breathe. 

You are so stupid for this. Leaving him because you are terrified of losing him later on. It’s ridiculous and you’re being selfish.

I can’t do long distance. His voice echoes in your brain, pushing down your apprehensions regarding your next decision.

Your fingers tremble as you slide the ring off your pinky. Despite only having it for a few hours, it feels wrong that it’s gone. You hesitate, just for a second, before placing it on his dresser. The thought of leaving a note crosses your mind, but as Jaeyun shifts in his sleep, you realise there’s no time. You need to go before you lose your last bit of resolve.

Placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, you hold back tears. He looks so innocent and unaware…you can’t imagine what he’ll be like once he wakes up. You can’t be here for that. 

So you get dressed quickly, shuffling down his stairs and out the front door. You’re met with the sharp bite of the morning air. The sun is dulling and the wind carries an unforgiving chill that cuts through you. You already know it’s going to pour later. As if the universe is mourning your decision before you can.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, hands still shaking, scared that he’s noticed already. But surprisingly, it’s from Avanti.

Mail: From: Avanti College RE: Housing Enquiry.

Dear Y/N L/N,

I am responding to your inquiry regarding accommodation. The room is available as of today, however, there is no concierge available to give you your keys as there has been a slight altercation in housing arrangements. Your assigned roommate has been made aware of your occupancy and will let you in once you arrive. Your key should be ready for you next week. Sorry about the miscommunication as I know you are eager to get settled.

Kind Regards,Cho Min WooHead of Accommodation and Living.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. It’s done. You have somewhere to go. No turning back now. 

You start running. You need to grab your bag, book the bus, and go before your heart betrays you. No hesitation. No overthinking. Just leave.

Thankfully, you had packed days ago, anticipating that you might need to flee at a moment’s notice, feelings overwhelming causing you to overthink and overpack. But you can’t just disappear. If you vanish without a trace, your parents will panic, call the cops or do something drastic. But if you tell them where you’re going, they will for sure tell Jaeyun your whereabouts. The last thing you need is him chasing after you, sacrificing everything to run to you.

Once you’re home, you grab a notepad and scribble a rushed message to your parents. You don’t explain, don’t justify. Just the bare minimum: you need a fresh start in a new city. You need space, everything too overwhelming. It’s not much, but it’s enough for them to know you’ll be safe.

You sign your name with a shaking hand, placing hugs and kisses as if that will ease the blow.

This is it. No more seeing your room. No more home-cooked meals. No more Jaeyun.

You’ve fucked up so badly, but you have to see this through. You made your bed, now it’s time to lie in it.

___

The bus jam packed. You were lucky to get one of the last two seats on the coach bound for Pyeongchang. The hum of conversation surrounds you but you don’t earwig on any of it. Your hands won’t stop shaking as you stare at your phone, scrolling through the endless missed calls and messages.

Incoming Call: my love <3

You watch it ring until it stops. Then you scroll through the notifications.

Missed Call (67) my love <3Missed Call (34) dadMissed Call (23) mum

Your chest tightens as you finally open Jaeyun’s messages.

07:30am princess, where are you? 07:30am are you coming back to bed? xx 07:49am Y/N, i’m getting worried. 07:52am pick up your phone, baby. please talk to me. 07:52am if i pushed you too far yesterday, i’m sorry… 08:16am why are your parents saying you’ve left? 08:16am baby, don’t do this. 08:17 m what does your letter mean? ‘I need a fresh start from everyone and everything’?? 08:17am you aren’t leaving, right? you’re not leaving me, are you? 08:23am please, please, please.

The messages go on and on, each one more desperate than the last. Your vision blurs with tears as you scroll down. The latest ones, sent only minutes ago, send a shiver down your spine.

10:32 am i ill search every part of this country until i find you.10:32 am you can’t expect me to just forget about you. 

10:35 am: will you please answer your fucking phone!10:47 am Y/N…i can’t make you answer me, or love me, but please just know i love you and i’m sorry for whatever i did. i’m leaving for Busan in two weeks so you should come home then. you won’t hear from me again but don’t leave your parents like this, baby. they can’t lose you.10:48 am I can’t lose you either to be honest but if it’s what you want…I’ll go.

Another message appears just as the tears spill over onto your cheeks.

10:51 am i love you so fucking much, Y/N. i won’t ever stop. my heart is yours, always. until the sun stops burning.

A sob rips from your throat, loud and raw. The sound fills the bus, drawing the attention of every passenger. You slap a hand over your mouth, bowing in silent apology as the embarrassment burns hot in your chest. Then, without another thought, you block his number.

You will get a new phone when you reach Pyeongchang. A fresh start. No more attachments. No more looking back.

But as the bus pulls away from the station, leaving your past behind, you press your forehead against the window and let the tears fall.

Jaeyun will be fine.

Eventually, he will be fine.

You just have to keep telling yourself that.

_______

Jaeyun’s heart has not stopped breaking since you’ve left, the pieces crumbling in a silence so loud it nearly suffocates him. He believed, with every fibre of his being, that the future you painted together was real - that your love is something solid, something unbreakable. To learn that you have already planned a life without him, that you are gone without a word, tears through him like a blade. 

It fucking hurts - not just in his chest, but deep, right down to his bones. He can’t find the strength to confront it, can’t make sense of what’s happening. 

Had he misunderstood? Had he pushed you into a life you didn’t want? Had his love, his promises, meant nothing to you? He can’t reconcile the girl he has spent so many nights dreaming of a future with, the girl who smiled at him through late-night talks about forever, with the one who has left him behind without a trace.

When he pulls into the driveway of his home after spending hours searching for you, he sees Heeseung’s car is there, an unwelcome reminder that the world has unfortunately keeps moving while his has shattered. He doesn’t have the energy to face his friend, not now, not when every thought in his head is tangled up in confusion and heartbreak. 

He loves Heeseung, of course he does, but right now, he needs to be alone. He needs to think and process, try and make sense of the wreckage of the morning. But he trudges up the stairs regardless, ignoring his parents’ concerned questions, ‘Where have you been?’, ‘Are you okay?’. He doesn’t know anything other than the fact that he has a hole in his chest.

Pushing his bedroom door open, Heeseung’s voice meets him with a bitter cheerfulness - clear he hasn’t noticed the way Jaeyun’s eyes are still swollen from the tears. “Jake, my man! How did it go? You went radio silent last night, so I’m assuming that means things went well,” Heeseung wiggles his brows as he waits for the fairytale update from his best friend.

But that’s the last thing he’ll receive today. The fairytale quickly turned into a Brothers Grimm nightmare.

Jaeyun’s gaze is fixed on the floor, his head hung low to hide the evidence of his heartache - not that it does much good. His throat is tight, his words caught behind a wall of emotion he can’t seem to break through. This makes Heeseung perk to attention, finally seeing the distress.

“Jake?” Heeseung’s voice softens, concern lining it now. “You okay?”

Jaeyun can’t answer, his eyes fixated on the silver ring. The one that belongs to you. The one meant to seal your futures together. It sits on his bedside table taunting and bitter. A new wave of sadness floods him and he tilts his head back in an attempt to stifle the tears, but they come anyway, hot and relentless. 

The sight of it is too much and Jaeyun’s remaining composure cracks. The sobs are impossible to control now, and Heeseung, without hesitation, pulls him into a tight embrace, squeezing him tightly. He holds him as if he could absorb some of the hurt, but nothing will ease this ache.

“She…left,” Jaeyun manages to choke out, the words hardly forming in his mouth before the tears take over.

Heeseung freezes, a stunned silence hanging between them. His hands grip Jaeyun’s shoulders, pulling him back to look at him with disbelief. “What do you mean, she left?”

Jaeyun’s voice breaks, his chest heaving with each ragged, uncontrollable sobs. “She left everything. Me, us...her family…she left it all behind.”

The words seem to cut deeper than the pain itself. Heeseung’s face twists in confusion, his jaw tightening. This is not like you. You wouldn’t go anywhere without Jaeyun let alone leave him without even so much as a goodbye. She’s been kidnapped is Heeseung’s first thought but thats ludicrous. This isn’t a Liam Neeson film.

“Let me call her,” he offers, reaching for his phone, though he knows it’s futile.

“No use,” Jaeyun replies, his voice hollow, devoid of any emotion other than pure agony. “She won’t answer. It’s gone straight to voicemail. Not even her mum can reach her.”

With shaky hands, Jaeyun pulls the note you wrote for your parents from his jeans pocket, handing it to Heeseung in silence. As his friend reads it, Jaeyun turns towards the ring on the table, staring at it as though it were a foreign object. His fingers tremble as he picks it up, turning it over and over in his hands. Every promise he made to you - each word, each moment spent dreaming of a shared future - feels like a cruel joke now. 

The ring should have been reassurance. Hadn’t it been? 

Why would you fucking leave?

Heeseung’s voice breaks through his thoughts, sharp and angry. “What the fuck?” The elder is pacing now, holding the letter like it’s something foul. “What the fuck is she thinking?”

His quetsion is met with a shrug from the heartbroken boy.

“So she didn’t accept the ring and decided to just fuck off?”

Jaeyun shakes his head, the tears flowing freely now, blurring his vision. “She accepted it. Last night was perfect. It was this morning that she left.” He meets Heeseung’s gaze, a tear slipping down his cheek. “What did I do wrong, Hee?”

Nothing. Heeseung knows he did absolutely nothing wrong. He can see the pain in Jaeyun’s eyes, he can feel the weight of his friend’s heartache pressing in on him. It’s suffocating and clinging to every fibre of the room.

With a frustrated sigh, Heeseung pulls Jaeyun into another hug, holding him tighter this time, trying to ground him. Jaeyun has always been the one with the softer heart, and right now, that heart is breaking in a way that even Heeseung can’t fix.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Jake. I don’t get what’s going on in her head, but you didn’t mess up. She’s just-”

But Jaeyun pushes back, his voice low and protective as he cuts his best friend off from saying something he’ll regret. “Don’t. Don’t talk about her like that. You don’t know her. She wouldn’t do this without a reason.”

“And what? She couldn’t tell you what the reason was and instead pussied out and left?” Heeseung is seeing red. “She should have told you she was leaving last night before she got your hopes up and accepted that ring, no? That’s fucked up.” 

Jaeyun knows somewhere in his heart that Heeseung is right, but his love for you is still as strong as ever and his instincts kick in to defend you. He pushes Heeseung away, his voice dangerously quiet. “Fuck you. You don’t get to speak about her like that. I might not understand it now, but I don’t doubt in my mind she did it for a reason she thought was valid. She wouldn’t have told me last night to protect my feelings.” 

Heeseung’s eyes flare with frustration, and for a moment, it seems like he might say something else. But instead, he scoffs, his words bitter. “Yeah? Well, how does it feel now? Do your feelings feel protected?” Silence. The whole house is still as he scoffs and sticks his tongue in his cheek, landing the final blow. “Think about that and tell me she did this out of love for you.” 

Jaeyun stands in stunned silence as Heeseung storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Jaeyun’s fists clench at his sides. How can Heeseung speak like that, when he doesn’t know the real reason behind your departure? Jaeyun is furious, but there’s something else - something even more painful. He’s envious of Heeseung’s anger. He wishes he could just let it all out like that, wishes he could scream and rage, but instead, he just lets the pain sit, lets it fester. He needs a few more days of this hurt, of this confusion, before he can face what’s coming.

And what’s coming…is a life without you in it.

taglist: @yzzyhee @dollyyun @sunpov @dreamy-carat

@ioveseong @katarinamae @viagumi @jakeswifez

@shuichi-sama @m1kkso @no1likeneo @pshfan0812

@fancypeacepersona @hoonieyun @jaepen @lovingvoidgoatee

@parksunghoonsgf @capri-cuntz @yvnempire @mei3425

@enhastolemyheart @ikeulove @riribelle @nshmrarki

@firstclassjaylee @ikeuwoniee @ang0308 @jaykesgirl @addictedtohobi

@jayeoniee @jakessrealwife @zyvlxqht

[foone]

So Robert A. Heinlein was an author who, much like Star Trek, was praised early on for their progressiveness. Much like Star Trek, he then went on making stuff and didn't change many attitudes but society changed around him and suddenly his stuff was a lot less progressive.

But bless him he tried, and it's hilarious how weirdly it went at times.

So how about the time he decided one of his old characters was trans, and how he went about that?

(readmore just because this is a little long)

So Methuselah's Children was a serial in 1941 and a book in 1958. In it, a group of super-long-lived humans (thanks to eugenics!) decide to end their masquerade and reveal themselves to humanity at large. It goes badly, and they have to flee the planet, and have various adventures before eventually returning to a changed earth that no longer hates them for their immortality.

There's no trans characters in this story, as written in 1941 or 1958. But there is Andrew Jackson Libby: a mathematical genius who invents a Warp Drive to help the immortals flee the planet.

And in 1980, Heinlein writes The Number of the Beast. It's a deeply weird and contested novel involving a conspiracy to murder advanced mathematicians by interdimensional lobsters, and they manage to visit both Oz and Wonderland (as in "Alice In"). But Libby reappears! And she's a woman now!

It's explained that she always wanted this but couldn't get it for the usual reasons (debatable: her timeline in Methuselah's Children had flying cars and space ships, but no HRT?) but what's really amazing is how the author explains how she ended up a man:

It involves her death, intersex genetics, cloning, time travel, and psychics.

See sometime after Methuselah's Children, she (still presenting male) gets killed by an alien polar bear, and her body is left in orbit of some alien world so that a friend can come retrieve it later when it can be buried on Earth. When the friend returns, the body is gone. Someone stole the corpse of some dead egg. Weird.

Later it turns out the friend stole the corpse: he just used time travel to do it. Shortly after it was left in orbit, he came back in time, grabbed it, and returned to the future.

They're planning to use advanced Future Tech to revive her: they clone the body, then pull memories out of the frozen-by-space brain and stuff them into the clone. But then the cloners realize something: it turns out Libby has XXY chromosomes! In reality this is called Klinefelter syndrome.

But in the story they seem to think this means Libby could be either male or female, so these advanced Future Scientists What With The Cloning And Time Travel And Such do the sensible thing: they call in a psychic.

The psychic somehow does something to Libby's brain where they push her to imagine herself as a man, then as a woman, and try to figure out which one makes her happier. Obviously, it turns out to be the woman version, so they modify the clone's genetics so that they only have the XX part, and thus are born (well, grown) female.

They then stick the brainwaves of this dead (supposed) man into the empty brain of a female clone and she's like "oh neat I'm alive again, and a woman? Cool!"

And the story just carries on and none of this is ever mentioned again. This is apparently how Heinlein thinks trans people work, and we needed a little side story to explain why the fuck one of his characters from the 40s came back in the 80s but she's a woman now.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

When you point out how neurodiversity affects whole areas of the brain, not just what we see as the presentation symptoms, it seems so obvious. I've known that many neurodivergent conditions have high rate of co-morbidities, but haven't thought about what that would mean. I really liked your explanation of what else dyslexia affects, it made me recategorise some of my sister's mom behaviours. I see time blindness, some executive dysfunction, organisation difficulties and go, yup, I've got that too, it's normal, and forget that most people don't struggle with that (I've suspected I have undiagnosed ADHD for years, but never got checked for it, since I suggested it my dad freaked out, insisting there was nothing wrong with me. I really should though)

May I ask how your synaesthesia manifests for you? I'm always curious about how neurodiversity manifests in people and how it affects them, because there are so many minor and major things not talked about. I apologise if that question makes you uncomfortable, you don't have yo answer it.

Anyway, thank you for your explanation! It made a lot of things click all at once for me.

If you want lots of examples of how my synaesthesia works, I have a tag you could trawl here. But, I have a few different types; the common numbers-have-colours one, but I also get textures and sensations and feelings, and about... literally everything. Numbers, words, people's voices, names, personalities, the plots of media, images, everything.

Soooo, yeah. Sensory overload is the big impact; trial and error over the years has shown me it's primarily auditory, so if I can wear earplugs I can cope for longer in 'busy' environments. The other thing is that it really does a number on my mathematical ability, though, because, I shit you not, the colours get in the way. When I was a small child I was shown that 3 + 5 = 8, and my brain went "Yes, orange + pink = brown, got it" and ever since then if I see a 3 and a 5 together in a sum it DOES NOT MATTER what the operator is, I immediately assume the answer is 8. 3 plus 5? 8. 3 minus 5? Also 8. 3 times 5? Buddy you'll never guess. But it's 8.

It takes conscious effort not to do this T_T

The other thing is that I really, REALLY suffer from this thing where someone goes "Hey, we should watch Program X" but the problem is, you see, the problem is, I cannot stand the sensation I get from the name Program X, and therefore I will not watch it out of disgust that is totally unrelated to the actual show. This applies to all media, places, human beings, etc. (It is obviously a thing I have to be careful of when it's human beings.)

I think everything else I have is ADHD-related though, so that's probably everything I can put down to the synaesthesia.

[nxuvillette]

CLASS IS IN SESSION — DR . RATIO

synopsis : vertias decided to have a little bit of fun with you during one of his lectures.

❥- pairings : vertias ratio x fem!reader

❥- note : finally back out of my slump ! sort of.. LMAO. this post was inspired by this thirst, all credit goes to them :) ! i hope you enjoy and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3.

content warnings : nsfw [17+], fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, use of a vibrator, reader is in class, mentions of hookups, teasing, cum mentions, professor!vertias ( they are around the same age ! ), reader is a bit shy.

It wasn’t smart of you to do, no. You should have shut down Vertias the moment he even thought of the idea, but his persuasion corrupted your mind and made you unable to say no. Then again, it was harmless fun! It’s not like anybody would actually be able to notice the beads of sweat that chased down your face, or how your eyes kept flickering at that damn clock that just couldn’t seem to move any faster.

Down below you was Vertias Ratio in all of his glory. He spoke nonsense about mathematics and how to do the proper formula in order to solve the problem written on the board. You knew he loved nothing better than teaching complete, well, idiots how to do things the right way. The man you had been sneaking around with always spoke negatively about the classmates you had. He said they would probably never obtain great knowledge like he did. 

He hadn’t bat even an eyelash at you the entire time. He was merely too focused on teaching the class he almost forgot about the little vibrating object that was tucked nice and snug between your legs. You, however, were fully aware of the toy that was buzzing away inside your panties. Although it was quite subtle, you were still feeling such a great wave of pleasure against your clit. You were convinced that you had soaked through your panties and were probably making a mess on the chair underneath you, but that wasn’t your biggest concern at all. Honestly, you didn’t know why you agreed to such a lewd thing. It might have been because thrill was something you were into, but then again, thrills came with loads of risk.

The scholar then turned to face the many people sitting inside his lecture hall. His amber eyes landed on you sitting in the third row. Vertias could feel his cock aching in his boxers, knowing that your pussy was probably dripping with arousal. He maintained his serious facade, and decided to have some fun.

He stepped towards the desk at his table, leaning over to hold the controller that went together with the vibrator inside you. Suddenly, the buzzing became more intense. It whirred against your folds and made you snap your thighs together almost immediately. Vertias could hardly hide the smirk on his features when he saw you trembling in your seat and shifting around uncomfortably. How fucking cute.

“(Y/N), do you know the answer?” he questioned, motioning his head at the equation written on the board. 

Your cheeks burned the moment his question registered inside your brain. You couldn’t fucking believe him right now. It was almost as if he was setting you up to embarrass the hell out of you. Not to mention, you hadn’t been paying attention the entire time. You really didn’t know the answer, and you were far too occupied with the burning pleasure between your legs to even think of the solution. 

The many eyes of the people sitting around you were felt. It was becoming an awkward silence given how long you had been quiet for. “N-No, I have yet to s-solve it!” the last few words almost came out like a gasp, because Vertias pumped up the pleasure. 

He didn’t seem to mind your reply. If it was any other person, he would have scolded them with some snarky comment that would have for sure left them feeling stupid. “Do try and work faster next time.” he then turned around, scraping the chalk against the board to begin another equation.

But, just as he finished, the bell signaling that his class was over rang in your ears. You felt immediate relief come over you, but once you caught his eyes looking right at you, you knew that it wasn’t really over for you anyway. 

You began to pack up your things while the other people inside of the room filed out into the hallway. This left you completely alone with Vertias. He was waiting for you down below. It didn’t take you long to reach the man you were secretly fucking for months on end. He could see the way your thighs were shaking and how your breathing was just a bit heavier than usual. He was so fucking thankful that this stupid class was over. Vertias couldn’t hide his bulge any longer.

The taller man pulled you against his body. Butterflies swarmed your stomach the moment you felt his cock pressing against your belly. It was painfully hard. You automatically knew what he wanted by the way his hands were exploring your body. Your hands rested on his muscular shoulders while his fingers traveled below to your skirt. A sigh left his mouth when he made contact with your underwear that were completely soaked through. 

Vertias’ digits pulled your panties aside. His fingertips brushed your clit, making you whimper into his ear. Oh my, you were just so fucking sensitive for him. He loved the way you were melting in his hands like putty. “How dirty of you..” he whispered. “Your pussy is so wet.. you must have been having the time of your life in your seat.”

Your eyes were focused on the ground before you. It felt almost embarrassing knowing what he was doing to you. “Vertias.. please.” you mewled as he played with your sensitive bead. 

He forced you to look at him. His eyes were completely blown with lust and you could just sense how turned on he was. “If anyone asks.. I’m giving you some extra credit, got it?” he raised his eyebrows, waiting for your reply. 

You nodded. “Y-Yes..”

“Good.. now sit on my desk. We’re gonna be here a while..” he whispered, squeezing your lips together.

© NXUVILLETTE ┆ all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

[ariaste]

Do you have any advice for absolute beginners who are writing-curious? My education was cobbled together and I didn’t have to write much there. I’m in a professional field where I do very technical and structured writing, but self-directed writing feels like a stranger. Writing basics/advice seems like it’s either for someone who has way more practice than I do, condescending, or written by someone who is convinced that writing is pain. Sometimes all three…

I definitely agree that a lot of writing advice (especially the sort you find on the internet, written by people with dubious qualifications to be giving advice) is... less than helpful. Even a lot of the published books on writing are not very helpful. However, I have some recommendations!

Wonderbook by Jeff Vandermeer. If you buy only one book, let it be this one. It's fantastic.

Steering the Craft by Ursula K Le Guin.

The Elements of Eloquence by Mark Forsyth. More about the flowers of rhetoric (that is, tools like metaphor, alliteration, metonymy, synecdoche, parataxis, etc) than WRITING, but it is genuinely one of my favorites.

There are also a buttload of amazing articles on writing from people who legitimately do know what they're talking about on the SFWA blog! (Example: Key Conditions for Suspense)

But honestly, if you are an absolute total beginner, my advice would be to ignore everything I just said. You don't need writing books or articles. Just give yourself permission to play. Read some of your favorite books and practice noticing things about how the writer did things. Every time you go, "Oh, I love this scene," or you notice your heart racing, or tears coming to your eyes, or WHATEVER -- pause and read it again and try to figure out where the magic trick is happening. You could even try transcribing a scene, either by hand or by typing -- this is an OLLLLLD apprentice-writer's trick to help trick your brain into thinking that IT is doing the writing itself so it can get used to what the movements of the dance are.

Another old, old apprentice-writer's trick is to make a list of all the stuff you really love in books. Character archetypes, tropes, themes, topics, vibrant sensory details, mental images that speak to you, whatever. Mine has things like: wizards, dragons, enemies-to-lovers, only one bed, etc. Then you can use that list (I call it a "Magpie Hoard" but people have a million different names, I did not invent this tool) to cobble together ideas -- and because the ideas are made up of raw material that you love, you are going to love the ideas too! You can even represent the genesis of an idea mathematically. The Idea Formula (and this one I DID invent) is: Idea = ❤️ + ❤️ (+ ❤️...) + "what if"

Where ❤️ stands for "thing from your Magpie Hoard". So for example:

Cozy fantasy + badass lady soldier + the smell of baked bread + murder mystery + "what if"... = "What if a grizzled lady sellsword retired from mercenary life, rented a room above a bakery in a quiet village, and immediately got caught up in investigating a murder?"

You can do this all day long, just generating story ideas based on all the stuff you love in books.

And then... y'know, just get out there and play! Make some messes. If you don't like what you made, nobody ever has to see it, and it's EXTREMELY easy to hide the evidence. :)

[jacevelaryonswife]

You Really Got Me | Professor!Michael Gavey x student!fem reader

summary: With a perfect CV, Michael Gavey was on top of the fucking world and mediocrity has never seemed so inherent to you before. The new Professor of Number Theory awakened inappropriate feelings that could become risky if they were reciprocal.

a/n: well, it was quite difficult to write this because I’m not familiar with the Oxford environment and I hope that my research has made this story as credible as possible.

tags: slight slow burn, smut, p in v sex, power imbalance, swearing.

word count: 5.7k

ewanverse masterlist | next part

Michael Gavey was... many things.

A lot of things, definitely.

Michael, or rather, Professor Gavey now, aroused conflicting feelings in you.

Admiration, fear, fascination and another whirlwind was felt when it was the new and brilliant Professor of Numbers Theory. He took over the discipline of a dear veteran and great name of mathematics in Oxford, his advisor in the master’s and PhD. Obviously great expectation formed around it, around him, wondering if he would be able to overcome the grandeur of his predecessor.

And apparently he was causing a certain commotion with his above-average intelligence and his eccentric personality.

Obviously you started a search for the CV of your next professor and the finding was surprisingly extraordinary. Speaker of the 2010 class, several projects carried out, postgraduate (also in Oxford), articles published in journals with high impact factor and experience at McKinsey & Company for 2 years.

Michael Gavey was on top of the fucking world and mediocrity had never seemed so inherent to you before.

Saying that you were intimidated by the first contact with him was an understatement- you were fucking terrified. The rumors of an alleged above-average intelligence proved to be untrue. Above average? No shit, he was far beyond everything you experienced. Your eyes didn’t dare to move away from him and the painting during the following hours, too fascinated by what was happening in your fucking front. You felt a current of pure mathematics run through your body and camp in your brain, illuminating all the neurons.

What the fuck had just happened?

You learned that every class he taught was a learning experience rarely experienced before. The passion he conveyed when teaching overflowed in all his expressions so intensely that it made you orbit around him slowly.

And that was the beginning of a problem.

A big problem.

But you hadn’t noticed yet.

“If I ever thought I was smart, forget it! Michael Gavey is the epitome of everything I want to be,” your good friend Miranda said before taking a sip of her latte.

“I know right? Every class I feel that my brain will explode,” you said while leaning your head against the table, “but I can understand what it teaches, at least a good part of things. I know I already have an advisor and our work is almost published, but I think I’m thinking of getting out of Algebra and trying something with Gavey,” you looked at her.

“Woah, are you fucking sure? I mean- if that’s what you really want, that’s fine, but I think it’s too mind blowing for me,” she said.

“For me too, but it’s fucking interesting, I really want to do at least one research in this area.”

“... hmm,” Miranda smirked, humming.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she superficially drank her coffee, “hmm.”

“Cut the bullshit,” you complained as you looked at her impatiently.

“It’s nothing, it’s just that from a certain angle he’s quite cute,” she said in a thin voice.

“Who? Gavey?”

“Yeah. He’s... different from the guys you usually date or are interested in but he’s not bad looking,” she explained.

“Come on, do you really think I’m interested in him? He's our professor and a big nerd to boot!” The last thing wasn’t totally the end of the world.

“And? It’s not like students and professors have never fucked before, although I don’t think he’d risk that much, he seems to be quite methodical,” she said calmly, “and most importantly, he’s clever as fuck and that automatically makes him sexy, if he’s not an idiot.”

That was absurd, you weren’t interested in Michael Gavey!

... right?

You thought about it for the rest of the day.

Was Michael Gavey, in addition to his bestial intellect, physically attractive?

Suddenly, you began to notice how his lips were perfectly drawn and pink as he explained the most beautiful things you had ever heard in those years at Oxford. Damn it. It was Miranda’s fault, obviously. You tried to convince yourself of that while elaborating a way to approach you about the possibility of a research project without embarrassing yourself. Obviously you tried to impress him before that, answering questions whenever possible and redoing all the examples and notes he passed around. When your own mind couldn’t assimilate some details, you looked for him to ask questions and oh Lord, he was more than attentive.

The proximity also made you realize how blue his eyes were under the glasses, and how his hands were- no, wait, what were those veins? Those long and thin fingers? You know what they say about guys with big hands... And his fluffy dirty blonde hair and those soft and ugly sweaters, his height, his waist-

DAMN IT MIRANDA!

That afternoon you gathered the courage to introduce the subject after your classmates left, using your best words to make a good impression.

“I have some interesting ideas that would yield good research, but before recruiting someone, I evaluate performance throughout the term; grades, posture, commitment, everything is observed.”

“Oh... sure, professor.”

“You’re doing well so far, you have good chances, keep it up.”

You wanted to scream. You’ve been recognized.

If your previous efforts were continuous to make a good impression, they would now be compulsive to stand out from the others. You needed to have him as an advisor. And all the eagerness to please him, all the competitive desire to excel, all that fervor triggered a fire that consumed every stretch of your body silently.

And that was a problem.

It shouldn’t be, but it became without you noticing.

“Do you know how many people would sacrifice everything to sit on these chairs? Walking through these corridors? Breathe this air? All of you have an obligation to achieve more than perfection, especially if you are here because of mommy and daddy’s money.”

You knew that very well. Gavey was very demanding about the quality of his students, always reinforcing the privilege of being in this environment, which in itself would make his discipline one of the most important of that term, but your current disposition made you demand almost all attention for him, for the test that was coming, for what you aspired to in the future.

And the result couldn’t be better.

You had a 100% performance in the first test. Excellent, handwritten next to the note. “Good work, keep it up,” he said with a subtle smile.

“Thank you, professor.”

So that’s what the butterflies in your stomach were from.

You smiled, satisfied as you reaped the fruit of weeks of hard work, too numb in your own pride to feel a close eye to follow your steps to the exit, although you had not gone unnoticed by Miranda.

“I think someone caught Gavey’s attention,” she hummed low, approaching on your side to lightly nudge your body with her hip.

“I know right? I need this opportunity,” you celebrated, oblivious to the implicit tone of her voice.

“I didn’t mean that way, babe. It's just he’s keeping an eye on you constantly, literally checking you every- I don’t know, three minutes?” She said it as if it were obvious.

“What? No, I don’t think it’s in this sense, he uses everything as a parameter of choice, he’s just observing my posture.” What? To believe that Gavey had ulterior motives? Too unreal.

“No, sweetheart, he was staring at you when no one paid attention, or almost no one, and he spent most of his time looking at you,” she insisted.

“You don't really thi-“

“I totally think so!”

Oh fuck.

“I’m not saying he’s in love with you, but he's interested, hell yeah,” she explained as you slowly processed her words.

“Fuck,” you said, “do you really, really think so? I mean- he doesn’t look like the type who stays with students.”

Definitely not, he seemed too methodical for that, methodical enough to separate the spectra of his life into compartments.

But what if there was the possibility? You couldn’t reproduce that question audibly, but in the comfort of your bed, you allowed yourself to daydream.

If there was some possibility?

Well, there were pros and cons that needed to be analyzed meticulously, of course.

In the event that Michael was a systematic monster, there wouldn’t be problems in a relationship since he wouldn’t mix romance with studies, theoretically. On the other hand, if he didn’t know how to differentiate the staff from the professional... well, you’d be fucked up if something went wrong. And that was the main point: the mistake.

The consequences would be drastic if something bad happened, especially to you, whose life was still under construction and a scholarship in Oxford could not be negotiated. The cost was too high.

However, over the weeks, you could only think about how attractive your professor was.

And now you know it’s a problem.

And with that, the end of year 2 was near when you received an email from Michael Gavey requesting to send your notes and certificates of everything you had done and participated in so far. Jesus, that man wasn’t kidding.

Neither were you.

That same morning you attached the documents to the e-mail and forwarded a response, as a result, your presence was requested at his office as soon as possible. I’m available in the afternoon, you send to him.

It was complicated to make your legs stop shaking along the way, practically jumping through the corridors while trying to stay calm. It was your chance, one where nothing could go wrong. You wore your best clothes, put on accessories that you used to wear daily and a subtle makeup to make a good impression, nothing that drew too much attention.

Stopping in front of his door, you took a deep breath and announced your presence with a light knock against the old wood, receiving immediate permission to enter the space. You would've liked the time and the absence of an observer to analyze all the details, but instead your eyes locked with his as he walked back to his chair.

“Good afternoon,” he said, a polite smile illuminating his beautiful face as he pointed to the chair in front of you, “have a seat. Please.”

“Good afternoon, professor, thank you,” you greeted him back, shaking your hands anxiously as you sat down.

With no time to allow your eyes to wander through the objects on the table, Michael cut straight to the point. "So, what aroused your interest in Number Theory?" You, to begin with.

"Well, I chose Maths at the age of 17, but things were difficult when I started the course. I was disenchanted considerably, but I always remained active. When your classes started I felt the same thing that motivated me to join here, it was as if everything had made sense again and I really fell in love with it."

“I see,” he said, crossing his hands over the table with a soft smile and a slight pink to his cheeks. Did you make him blush? No way. "I’m happy to have contributed positively to your training. I really appreciated your performance during classes and the analysis of your CV. The activities you have developed are also good but they can improve, I believe you also aspire to it. I seek a high level of quality in my students, after all we are in one of the best universities in the world and excellence is the least expected, I believe we agree on that. Have you already decided where you would like to specialise within Number Theory?"

"To be honest, no, but I would like to find out in-"

"I have some ideas that I’d like to be executed, I can show you now, if you don't have something in mind," he interrupted you with enthusiasm.

"... yes, I’d love to," you said, "but first, thank you for the opportunity you’re giving me, I admire you so much from the first classes and I feel really happy to receive this chance, I know there are many successful veteran professors, but I believe that a current view of a person as impressive as you can bring interesting results."

And if he had blushed with your previous statement, now he was red as a tomato and all disconcerted as he looked down with a shyness never witnessed before by you. It was deadly cute.

Gosh, you were really fucked.

═════════════════════

Working with Michael was exciting.

Terrifying too.

You felt constantly intimidated by his intellect, which caused a mix of sensations that varied according to the day. There was the pride of collaborating with him, the fear of failing, the paranoia of not being good enough and the satisfaction of achieving good results. It was a real roller coaster.

The passing of the months dissipated the initial strangeness and made living more comfortable. On the other hand, the proximity made you watch him for longer. It was pathetic.

Michael spent most of his time in front of his computer, correcting things, creating things and participating in events. You weren’t the only one under his guidance, there was Paul, a recent entry in Maths who was too inert in his own world to notice any non-standard deviation. Paul was a reminder and a barrier for nothing to come out of your daydreams, although he didn't seem very interested in what you were doing.

Still, you couldn't feed those thoughts, your relationship should be strictly professional.

It didn't matter how discreetly he approached you to help, or how close he leaned towards you- more than what was considered respectful. Or how good he smelled and looked so comfortable with his cheesy sweaters and old shoes. Or when you looked at him closely while he explained something.

How it was happening at that very moment.

“You're wasting time trying to demonstrate this equation, it's not so important for the project,” he said when analysing your latest advances.

"I know, but I'd like to understand better and I'm not getting it, it seems too abstract," you said with a frustrated pout, bothered by being stuck in something so simple.

"You've already solved more difficult things," he stressed, looking at you consciously, "can I?" he asked, referring to your notebook and the pen next to your laptop.

“Sure.”

Your attention focused on the numbers and symbols scribbled on the paper, trying to keep up with the speed of his thought. Watching it has always been fascinating.

“Some things are more difficult when we make them like this,” he said as he sketched on the paper.

"It's easy to say that being you," you replied, lamenting the failed attempt to absorb some of his knowledge.

"But it's true."

Unconsciously, you leaned your shoulder against his arm. "Some things are naturally difficult, not everyone can visualise like you."

"I know, it's a natural advantage," he smirked, looking at you over his shoulder, face closer than usual. "But you have a good brain, you shouldn't make it harder than it is."

So close.

"And how should I make it easier?" You held your breath, not daring to look beyond his beautiful blue irises.

"Find in the problem points that are favourable to you, try to demystify them, make them palpable," he replied slowly, taking a deep breath.

Really close.

"And if there's nothing to be explored?"

"You can always call me."

"… I know."

So close.

═════════════════════

After that, you don't know what or why, but something has changed in your relationship with Michael.

His looks became more persistent, his presence seemed closer, almost palpable. Maybe it was a daydream of your own mind, but it looked different, inexplicably different. The air seemed heavier when there was proximity. He seemed comfortable when he touched your shoulder while you read your results. It was nothing, you thought.

There was something not said and that was enough to bring out fears and expectations.

Why not? You thought repeatedly, knowing the reasons very well.

But, maybe...

Maybe you needed to get him out of your head for a few hours, meet some nice guys, drink a little, it was a good idea.

That's why that Friday night you decided to go to one of the nearby pubs with Miranda. It was a good plan, you would leave the lab at 5 PM and get ready to meet her at 7 PM. It was in fact a good plan... until the data analysis program decided to crash in the middle of your work and a malaise affected your friend, in addition to a grotesque rain that started to fall recently. Well, at least you tried.

After collecting the material from the bench, you stretched your arms above your head to ward off the hours of agonizing stress and got up from the chair. It was already late and your view was tired, more than your own body when Michael showed up with his keys in his hand after closing his own office. He spent the afternoon by your side trying to solve the damn problem in addition to his chores as a teacher.

"Everything worked out?" He asked.

"Yeah, at least that," you grumbled, picking up your backpack, "thank you for the help," you looked at him before going to the switches to turn off the equipment.

"You’re welcome," he said simply, in a softer tone than usual. Thunder echoed when you turned off the lights and made you retreat briefly in fright, making himhim laugh softly. "So, what does your generation do to have fun Friday night?" He asked casually after leaving the laboratory.

"Considering that these pubs are older than you and me, I think the same thing your generation did," you replied humorously, looking at him with a small smile, "Unfortunately not with this rain."

"Did you have plans?" He asked.

"Yes, my friend and I’d go to MacLaren's pub, but she's sick and the world decided to fall suddenly and I didn't bring my umbrella," you said faster than you intended, a brief irritation about how your night was totally destroyed. “And you?”

“No plans,” he said, adjusting his sweater. His car was close, but the rain prevented him from advancing a lot. "Are you walking?" He asked.

"Yes- I mean as soon as the rain passes," you crossed your arms and hugged yourself.

"I can take you," he said, his words beginning to make your heart beat faster.

It's no big deal, it's just a polite gesture.

"Oh no, you don't have to, honestly. I can wait," you said, although the twinge in your heart meant the opposite. Why the fuck did I deny it? Damn it.

"It's no big deal, besides we don't know when it will pass," he said, "we can wait in my car, I'm fucking freezing here."

"Sure." You tried not to freak out at the idea of being in such a restricted and warm environment with him, but Michael didn't seem to share the concern, since he basically ran in the middle of the fine rain to reach his car. Okay then. You went right behind, putting the backpack above your head to protect yourself from the water and closing the door harder than you intended. “Sorry, I wasn't expecting that,” you said with a light laugh.

"I just needed this heater," he said with a small smile on his lips, messing with things on the panel, "I also didn't bring an umbrella."

Avoiding making him uncomfortable when analyzing his every movement, you took your cell phone to try to distract yourself, relaxing when the hot air became present. It was almost 6:45 when You Really Got Me filled your ears and made you look at him.

"Do you like The Kinks?" You asked.

"I'm a fan, what about you?"

"My friend is a big fan."

“And you?”

"I like some songs."

"My grandfather was a great vinyl collector, he left everything to my father but he was never into rock in general," he said as he adjusted his glasses, looking at you with soft eyes.

You looked at him with interest. "I started listening to rock to get the attention of a guy I liked. It didn't work but I really liked the songs, although I don't listen to the same bands as I did when I was younger."

Michael laughed. The sound was carefree, almost relaxed even, a facet you didn't see often. He looked soft, cozy, in that burnt orange sweater he wore. "And what do you listen to?"

“I listen to a lot of Oasis, but that's not really 60's stuff. But I also like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, The Strokes...”

“Big fan of Oasis,” he said.

“Really?”

"I have all the vinyls and I went to a concert in Manchester before the separation." He paused, "Would you like to see them?"

There was an intensity in his look that made your breathing fail, making the air heavy. The casualness of the situation did not seem so natural all of a sudden. He meant-

“In my home.”

Shit shit shit shit

You couldn't, you shouldn't.

“Yes.”

═════════════════════

And so, contrary to all the possibilities of the night, you were in Michael fucking Gavey's house.

A veiled restlessness endured in the air and in the way your heart beat as you were taken by the unknown path. You couldn't believe you had agreed to that, but here you were, looking at every detail of his flat with curiosity. It was large, clean and almost minimalist in design, some thematic objects of mathematics scattered around on the shelves, walls and table. Nerd.

A short silence was maintained while your eyes eagerly explored his place. "Do you want to drink something?"

"Water would be great," you tried to keep the modesty, while watching him go to the kitchen and approach with your request with his gaze locked on yours.

You couldn't be imagining things, there was something there, a different glow, an unspoken truth that caused chills to run through your body.

"You can sit down, I'll get the vinyls."

Your heart was almost exploding since the invitation. You couldn't believe he brought you here, much less that you agreed to come. What the fuck should you do? Let him show you the records and then go? That was stupid.

You forced a conscious smile when he appeared with the records in his hand, watching with a certain curiosity.

“Here,” he said with what you assumed to be a nervous smile, “This is definitely my favourite, although What's the Story? Morning Glory introduced me to the band-“

Your brain wandered when he started digging non-stop about the albums, not giving a damn about Noel and Liam Gallagher's drama, all that mattered was that you were next to Michael Gavey, on his couch, at his house. Michael, the man who took away your sleep and made you constantly daydream. The man who fascinated and intimidated you to the same extent, who made your body warm up when it was close and imagined what it would be like if he got closer.

With his beautiful eyes, nose and lips, big hands and long fingers, soft and beautiful dirty blond hair.

You've wanted it for a long time.

You wanted him.

Wanted to fuck him.

You wanted to fuck your own professor.

And you're tired of denying it.

"I know I shouldn't do that, but it's all I've been thinking about for months."

You interrupted him, touching his cheek as you slowly leaned against him. He froze in place, not preventing your advances as your faces grew closer and closer. Your lips gently brushed against his before pressing harder, starting a fearful and shy, almost chaste kiss.

He didn't reciprocate.

Your heart sank, panic blooming in your stomach.

What did I do?

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"

His lips silenced any doubts that dared to emerge, holding the back of your head while kissing you experimentally. You didn't waste time in moving your lips at the pace he set, holding the back of his neck and smoothing his beautiful face, tasting the taste of his lips.

You couldn't believe it, you couldn't! He was kissing you!

Michael Gavey was kissing you!

"I'm sorry, we shouldn't-" he said as he walked away abruptly, but you didn't care.

You attacked his hungry lips and made him move the discs away when he leaned against his body, climbing on his lap and holding both sides of his neck. His hand went down your back and held your ass firmly while the other grasped on the back of your neck, pulling your body closer and asking for access to your mouth with his tongue. You kissed, sucked, and bit his pink lips, taking advantage of everything you could before moving away to look into his eyes, looking for any sign of reluctance.

“I've wanted to do this for a long time,” he confessed.

“Me too,” you said.

And then you were kissing him again, and again, and again until your lips were red, wet and swollen. Your body warmed up when a bulge emerged below your thighs, instinctively grinding against it.

“Fuck- I can't, we can't do that, I'm your fucking professor,” he said out of breath, holding your arms and briefly pushing your body away. "This can ruin everything- fuck up our relationship-"

He was red, dilated pupils and heavy breathing, a fucking vision.

“I know, I know. But... just this time, we can forget just this time... what do you think?"

He held firmly one side of your face and looked into your eyes. “Are you fucking sure about this?”

“I'm fucking sure.”

Just this time.

"... just this time."

He leaned over to kiss you quickly, moving his hands under your blouse to take it over his head, groping the exposed skin of your arms, waist and belly with his big hands while drinking from your body with lascivious eyes. "Beautiful," he whispered.

His lips traveled to spice up moist kisses on your neck, sucking the conjuncture with his shoulder, licking your throat, making you melt and close your eyes when he found your sweet spot. Who knew he had that fire? He nibbled and sucked the sensitive skin, holding your waist firmly when he raised you and put you on the floor, leaving you stunned as he guided you by the hand to the room.

Michael didn't have time for your reasoning to come back when he gently pushed you against the door with both hands next to your head. “You're fucking gorgeous.”

“And you're handsome,” you removed his orange sweater, touching the skin of his torso.

"... you don't have to reciprocate the compliment."

Your chest hurt when you heard that, which made you touch his cheek instinctively. "I'm not saying out of courtesy, Michael, you're fucking attractive," you traced his lips with your thumb, looking at him firmly. “Fucking handsome.”

A slight blush took over his cheeks and he captured your lips with passion, holding your waist while kissing life outside of you. Your head was spinning and your stomach warmed up by intimacy, straightening his soft hair. You were in the damn clouds.

His hands moved to unbutton your pants and lower them, kneeling before you to remove your shoes and jeans, kissing the stomach trail to the top of your panties and shamelessly touching your drenched pussy.

"Mmm," you shuddered and closed your eyes when he started rubbing your clitoris, increasing the moisture between your thighs. Fuck. Your goddamn professor was kneeling in front of you. If you weren't wet before, now a river has accumulated in your center.

"Is that good?" He asked.

“Yeah,” you whispered, holding onto him for better support, watching him continue to massage your clit now directly into the skin while leaving kisses on your belly. You leaned dramatically against the door when he stuck a finger in your entrance, pumping slowly, feeling you, teasing. “Fuck.”

Michael removed his finger and stood up, unbuttoning his belt quickly and taking off his pants and shoes, leaving you warm and needy and following him like a puppy when he went to the headboard near the bed and opened the upper drawer to take off a condom. Damn it, he was so fine. Before his hands were on your body, you slowly pushed him on the bed and took control, removing the bra and discarding the panties. You couldn't believe what was about to happen.

Your body trembled when he pulled you by the waist and clapped your breasts as you sat on his covered cock and ground over it.

"Fuck," he grunted, sucking one nipple.

"Michael," you moaned, panting. 'Professor,' that's what you wanted to shout, pulling the hair from the back of his neck. He moaned when you kept grinding against his erection and hoisted your hips to lay you on the sheets.

Your mouth opened when he discarded his underwear - not even in the wettest dreams did you imagine that size. He was fucking fine. Tall, thin, defined and with a beautiful cock. Fuck-

Michael Gavey was really a box full of surprises. He barely had time to adjust his glasses and put on the condom before he was pulled by you to take over the top, caged by your legs.

He captured your lips in a sweet kiss, leaning on his elbow as he adjusted between your thighs. The next thing you felt was the welcome intrusion into your folds, stretching you open deliciously. The initial stretch was a little painful, it's been a while since you've been with someone, but he was slow and careful when sinking into your core, making your toes curl up and a relieved moan come out of your throat when he was totally inside.

"Are you alright?" He asked with his face above yours.

"Yes," you held his back, "just wait a minute, please."

“Okay,” he said with a red face, hoarse voice and almost breathless.

Your walls were pulsating when you finally received it, relaxing when the slight discomfort passed. “Move.”

His thrusts were soft, but firm, looking at you closely. You couldn't believe that, yes, Michael was fucking you. Finally.

You leaned up to kiss him while holding your back, groping his wrinkles around your eyes. He was fucking handsome. His hips went further and faster when your body was totally receptive, the moisture and heat surrounding him and making him slip without hindrance. He leaned his forehead against yours and held your hips when you dug your feet on the bed, hitting deeper than before, making you moan loudly and your pussy squeeze instinctively.

A hoarse moan was his response, almost a whining that was swallowed by your lips.

You were in the fucking clouds with the intimacy of the moment, tracing patterns on his back and pulling the blonde strands from the back of the neck when the thrusts became more intense, deliberately repeating his name. Michael attacked the conjuncture of your neck and lifted your thigh even more to go deeper, deliciously hitting your core.

"Michael- fuck-" You could only think of how good he felt, how big his cock was and how his bulbous head brushed your sweet spot whenever he moved. You needed it too much. Holding his shoulders and pushing him away a little, you looked at him panting, making his eyes widen.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked with a tense body.

"No, no, It's just-" and then you moved to take control, resting your hands on his chest, "this." You wanted to ride him since the time you called me in your office. You rubbed your hips against his groin in an addictive rhythm, loving the friction against your clitoris and the feeling of being totally filled.

"Fuck," he grunted, squeezing your ass, groping your hip, holding your breasts, covering every piece of skin available.

You started moving on his cock, touching his chest gently. You felt it all over your core and that burned your whole body, especially when your spongy spot was being brushed rhythmically. Michael pulled you to a scorching kiss full of tongue and teeth, leaving your movements sloppy, but constant, almost frantic, your moans and whining became higher and higher, your velvety walls squeezing his thick axis more and more.

"So fucking good," he moaned against your mouth and leaned his feet on the bed, holding your buttocks and hitting his hips against yours.

“Fuck-“ you almost screamed, resting your head against his chest when he started pushing quickly into your hot pussy, creating lascivious sounds that echoed all over the room.

“You're squeezing me so fucking hard - you're close, aren't you?” He asked, almost breathless.

“Y-yes,” your eyes closed when the family tingling intensified and your juices lubricated it even more.

"Come for me baby," he grunted when your folds pulsed around him, "cum in my fucking cock."

Shit.

Your orgasm hit you hard; hot and sudden as lightning, making your body tremble and a flash blind your vision as the air disappeared from your lungs and your mind went blank.

"Fuck," you heard him moan far away, feeling his cock pulsate and the squeeze on your ass increase when his erratic movements stopped, leaving only a few slow pushes on your sensitive pussy.

You melted completely when the orgasmic euphoria spared, coming out of it unwillingly so as not to deprive you of the air and stabilize your own breathing. Your mind was tired although very aware of the fact that you had just fucked your professor.

You can't fucking believe it.

Fucking finally.

"Are you okay?" He asked, all red and sweaty as he looked at you with crooked glasses.

“Absofuckinglutely,” you looked at him tired, panting, attracted by how cozy he looked. “And you?”

He smiled softly, pushing away some strands of hair that had stuck to your forehead, fingering your face with his thumb. “I'm fucking great.”

Michael pulled you to rest on his chest when a comfortable mist hovered between you as you recovered. None of you said anything for the next few minutes, just enjoying the calm silence before reality starts to come back. You fucked your professor.

You fucked your professor.

What did you have in your head?

You tried to convince yourself that nothing would change after that, that your relationship would not be affected, but you were not sure of that

Just this time.

═════════════════════

taglist: @venmondiese @re-per @anukulee @slytherincursebreaker @tulips2715 @rhaenyslay @angelinap09 @cupidelocke @aegonswife @fan-goddess @thenightmistress @deliaseastar @scarletbedlam @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk

my lovely beta reader: @moris-auri 💙💙

[vivianbernadetteaurora]

Astrological observation

Virgo women always have a perfect straight noses 👃

Scorpio  SUN s are not as intense Scorpio moons or Scorpio Mars? 🌑

Gemini men and women observe everything going on in the world and they’re very very good at multitasking and having many friends and being many different types of people,🧚����

Leos can’t count, whether your man or Leo woman, you find it really hard to add up and do anything mathematically 💰

Virgo can talk the ear off you more than a Gemini can Geminis tend to observe the world more? Where is Virgo like to talk about everything I had it be the other way round where Virgo is brain diarrhoea and Gemini is verbal diarrhoea but I think it’s the other way around sometimes except when Virgo do you get obsessive thoughts ,🤨🗣️

Pisces men and most feminine man of the zodiac , along cancer men ,🌸



Cancer  be more aggressive than Scorpios in a lot of way there were a lot more verbal about it. Where is Scorpios? There a lot tend to do things a lot more sneaky, especially Scorpio Mars and Scorpio mercury.🫥

Virgo  men are not like Virgo women, they can be very annoying and very annoying, they are very so so dub dub, they are very wishy-washy 🤨

Signs most likely to be narcissist and the type of narcissist they were, Leo malignant narcissist, Pisces covert narcissist, sagittarius psychopathic narcissist Aquarius coercive narcissist .😎

Capricorn Placement can actually be very emotional just as much as cancers they just have a different way of expressing it. I need somebody well it’s actually my mother who is a Capricorn Stellium and she’s very emotional but she just doesn’t know how 🤪to put it into way 

All the signs of water signs and the fire sign he tried to be the cool mum,👩🏼

Sagittarius are as vain as Leo but in a different kind of, they care about clothes and how they look they just aren’t as extreme about it 🌞

If you have your Mars in a fire sign, you are awesome, especially if it’s Leo or Aries 🔥 

[mitchellnman]

THE SIMPLEST SOLUTION. PT 1.

MDNI.

Martin x reader x Michael Gavey

Word count: about 3.7k

Warnings: porn with very little plot, afab reader, she/her pronouns, cunnilingus, messy feelings, Martin's chill, Michael's not.

A/n: hi hello welcome to my random unbeta'd fic please enjoy

"I don't fucking get it." You groaned, your fingertips coming up to rub at your temples - though what you really wanted to do, was rip your hair out, and smash the mathematics textbook over —

"I didn't expect much from you, but really."

His head. Michael Gavey. Your math tutor. You had made a deal with him a few weeks ago, and who knew that the unassuming genius would turn out to be the devil incarnate? Certainly not you. It had been simple; his brain, your fingers.

Not like that. He wanted to learn how to play guitar, and you, with your band that played on the weekends at the local pub, considered yourself to be damn good at it. It had seemed fair, at the time. But now, tears pricked at your eyes, and you felt like a child again, sitting across the table from your father as he explained long division to you again, and your brain refused to comprehend it.

"Asshole." You muttered.

He smirked, and set his pencil down. "Perhaps if you spent more time studying, and less time with your greasy boyfriend, you'd understand."

"And maybe if you got laid once in a while, you wouldn't be such a cunt!" You spat back at him. You stared at each other, glaring fiercely, anger bubbling beneath the surface. He exhaled slowly, through his nose.

"One more try. Then we'll call it a night. Deal?" He asked, trying to reason with you.

He liked seeing you angry. It excited him, thrilled him - but he didn't want to make you too angry, and have you leave him. He knew you had a boyfriend, that imposing cryptid that you kissed on the cheek, and the lips, and—

He coughed, mentally wiping his mind of that image. He knew he was jealous, he had come to terms with it weeks ago, after a quick and hot rub of his crotch made him cum so hard he saw stars, face buried in the pillow you had plopped on your lap. It wasn't fair that Mark, Matthew, whatever his name was, got to hold you, got to touch you, taste you, and Michael only ever got to frustrate you.

He knew he was jealous. But you couldn't know that. It would ruin everything.

"Michael, no matter how many times you explain this thing, it doesn't make sense." You said, utterly frustrated with yourself. Your hands did go up to your hair then, tugging.

Michael pressed his lips together, and patted your shoulder. It was the only part of you that he permitted himself to touch, beside your hands when they brushed, knees when they knocked. "Let me try to show you a different method. A new perspective, if you will." He offered, his voice softer, and a touch sweeter.

You agreed - without much of a choice. Despite your reservations - by the end of the night you understood the problem, and Michael even had you explain how to solve it to him. He'd never say it, but he was proud of you, it was written all over his face.

You gathered your things and tucked them in your old black backpack, the one with the straps that you had to resew every six months. Michael watched you for a moment, then turned and started to rifle through a drawer. As you turned to say your goodbyes, he was there, holding a crunchy bar.

"For you." He said.

You smiled, brighter than the moon on a clear night. "You're sure?"

"Of course."

You took it from his hand, your fingers brushing against each other. Michael opened his mouth to say something, but your phone pinged before he could make a sound.

It was a text from Martin, your boyfriend.

[ just got dinner. Omw. ]

You smiled, and shot a quick text back. "I gotta go, Michael. Thank you so much, for the candy, for everything."

You bade a quick goodbye, and jogged down to the parking lot, where Martin was pulling up.

In his room, Michael seethed with jealousy, now that he was free to show his true face. He paced the room back and forth, so hard that he might wear a hole in the carpet - that's when he noticed you'd left your jacket behind. Black, oversized, with some band logo on the sleeve. Martin's, probably. With a twist of his stomach, he thought, you'd look better in one of his sweaters.

Michael plucked the hoodie up by the collar, holding it away from him like it might bite him. He licked his lips. Slowly, he brought it closer and closer, until his lips brushed over the ratty fabric. He inhaled, deeply.

It smelled like you. Not entirely like you, there were still hints of him. Of Martin. Sweat and oil and other godawful chemicals he liked to play with. Him and his models. Michael sneered, but only for a second. He pressed his face fully into the hoodie, smashing his glasses against the bridge of his nose.

He moaned.

Martin greeted you with a smile as he pushed the passenger door open from his side, the hinges squeaking in protest. You climbed in, and he tapped his cheek. With a laugh you obliged him, and planted a warm kiss to his jaw. The car smelled like dinner, ramen from a local place that held many of your memories together, laughter, fretting over bloodied knuckles, all of it.

"How was it?" He asked. He watched you buckle in, and took off once you were secure.

"Well," you said, pulling out Michael's crunchy bar. "I did so well, he gave me a reward."

Martin chuckled dryly. "Wait 'til we get home, I'll give you an even better one." His hand fell from the steering wheel, and onto your knee. His fingers found the holes in your jeans, and he started tracing the skin of your knees with light, teasing strokes.

You shivered. "Don't start, or I'm going to have to start, too."

In response, Martin squeezed your thigh. "I'm a good driver, but I don't know if I'm that good." He mused. "Besides, I couldn't look at you. That's the best part."

After dinner, while you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom, Michael texted you.

[ you left your jacket here. I only just noticed. ]

You swore quietly, and smacked your forehead. "Stupid." You muttered.

[ will you be there tomorrow? I can pick it up in the afternoon. I'm swamped in the morning. ]

You waited for a long moment. Then finally,

[ I'll be here. ]

[ thank you, Michael ❤️ ]

"Everythin' alright?" Martin asked, leaning against the doorframe. "I heard you swearin'."

You nodded. "I left my hoodie at Michael's. He was just letting me know."

"Awful nice of him." Martin mused. "Better than what I'd have done."

"Oh?" You asked, setting your phone down. "What would you have done?"

Martin grinned that evil smile of his, and sauntered closer to you. He was shirtless, post-shower, and just in a pair of gym shorts. You, meanwhile, wore one of his shirts, and a pair of boxers. He leaned down, and flicked the tip of his finger over your chin. "I would have fucked it until it smelled like me." He whispered, so close you could feel his warmth radiating off of his skin. He licked the tip of your nose with his ever-blue tongue. "Every time you wore it, you'd think of me."

His arms snakes around your waist, and brought you flush against his chest. His wet hair tickled your cheeks, like his lizard's tongue did when he had her 'kiss' you goodbye. Martin kissed you then, his fingers pressing into your flesh. You hooked your arms around his neck, and he pushed you against the counter, his desire evident against your stomach.

An hour later, you were both fast asleep, the scent of sex lingering in the air. You were curled against his chest, and his arms were around you, just like they always were - protective and possessive.

The next morning, he drove you to college as usual. You shared a long kiss goodbye, and went about your day. You took notes, studied, did everything a good student should do. Then at about 2, you made your way up to Michael's dorm room. You lifted your hand to knock, but Michael opened it before you could.

"Oh, hello-"

"What are you . . Oh, yes. Hoodie." Michael shook his head, as if to say 'duh'. "Come in."

"I can just grab it and go if you're busy—" you offered. Michael was unusually out of sorts, his hair unkempt, wearing the same clothes from yesterday, his eyes staring only at your neck.

"No, no. That's alright." He said. "I was just going to go to a vending machine for a snack." He met your eyes finally, something simmering beneath the surface. "I see Martin's made a snack out of you."

You frowned. "What do you-? Oh, shit—" You pushed past him and took a look at yourself in the mirror; Martin had left his mark on you indeed, four hickeys in the vague shape of an 'M'. "He knows better, damnit." You sighed, rubbing your forehead.

Michael watched you, and tilted his head to the side. "You don't like it?"

"I go to an ivy league college with a blue collar background, I just —"

"You want to make a good impression on people you'll never see again." Michael deadpanned. "You don't want them to think you're a slut."

You rolled your eyes. "I hate when you do that."

"What?"

"Make a good point but deliver it like an asshole."

He grinned, cheekier than you'd ever seen him. "Your hoodies on the edge of the bed - I had to move it to sit." Michael explained.

You nodded gratefully. "Thank you." You said, immediately tugging it on. You sniffed it as you did - and it smelled like Michael. That made sense, it had been in his room all night. He smelled different than Martin, very clean, with hints of cologne and sweetness. It made you smile, a soft fondness crawling into your heart.

Michael let out a quiet sigh of relief. He hadn't, as Martin said, fucked the hoodie. He'd slept with it, his face buried in the fabric, inhaling your scent as much as he could - and he humped the mattress. For a very long time, longer than he'd realized. He only woke up a half hour ago, and tidied everything in a mad dash, and hoped you wouldn't notice anything amiss.

The little 'M' on your neck made his mouth go dry. For a moment, he pretended that you were his, and that 'M' stood for Michael, not Martin. He swallowed.

"Are you alright?" You asked. You stepped closer to him, brow furrowed in concern. Michael looked like he might be sick. You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead. "Michael, you're burning up." You whispered.

He let out a strangled noise. "I'm fine." He insisted. He took your hand in his, then looked at it like he didn't quite know what to do with it. "I..." He took a breath, and shook his head. "I think I just need to eat. I was up late, erm, reading."

You frowned, not believing him for a second. "Michael, I—"

The world stopped. He pulled you flush against his chest, and he smashed his lips against yours.

You never saw it coming.

Well - maybe a little. The two of you had some sort of tension, but - you had Martin, and Michael didn't seem the type.

You pushed him away as suddenly as he had tugged you in. "What the fuck, Michael?!" He tasted sweet. Like a crunchy bar.

He ran his hands through his hair, his eyes wide. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry - I don't know what came over me—" As you watched, tears welled up in his eyes. "I'm so sorry." He whispered, his voice cracking.

"Why did you do that?" You asked, hugging yourself tightly. "You know I'm dating Martin..."

"I know." He said weakly. "I know you are, and, and it kills me."

You stared at each other, tears streaming down each other's faces. You didn't know what to say. You liked Michael, you did - he was kind when he wanted to be, smart, sometimes even funny - and sure, he was cute, but —

"I have to go." You whispered.

"Don't tell him." Michael pleaded. "I'm begging you."

You shook your head. "I have to, Michael."

"He'll kill me." Michael said, his hands starting to shake.

"No, he won't, I promise." You wiped your face with the sleeves of your hoodie. "He's not like that."

"He does that ... car-jitsu!"

"He's got daddy issues, not anger issues." You laughed weakly, and Michael's heart broke a little. "I'll talk to you... sometime. I'm sorry." You said, unsure why you were apologizing.

Michael nodded, and hung his head. "I'm sorry." He whispered again, and you knew he meant it.

You took the bus home, and waited on the couch for Martin to get home from work. You tried to stop the flood of tears, but it was all for nothing. When he came home, you were sobbing softly into a pillow, and he curled around you, immediately comforting you.

When you told him what happened - he didn't have much of a reaction. In fact, he chuckled.

"Martin, it's not funny!" You said, smacking at his chest. "How am I supposed to go back there and face him?"

"Seems pretty simple to me." Martin mused, a shit-eating grin on his face. "An easy solution, if you will."

You frowned, and smacked his chest again. "You're not Gandalf, stop speaking in riddles!"

Martin laughed again, rubbing his chest. "What I'm sayin' is, I don't mind sharin'."

You squinted at him. "But I don't—"

"You do. I've seen the way you talk about him. Even if you don't know it, you're sweet on him, just a little." Martin shrugged, totally nonchalant.

"I am not, he's an asshole, and a know-it-all—"

"First, isn't he quite literally a genius? Sort of his job, innit? Second, you're blushing."

You clapped your hands to your cheeks, and were utterly dismayed to find that he was correct. Your face was flushed, and your skin practically burned underneath your fingertips. "I hate this." You whispered, utterly mortified.

Martin grunted. "Eat dinner with me. Sleep it off. We'll go see him tomorrow. What's his schedule?"

You pressed your fingers into your forehead, gently massaging yourself. "It's Saturday, so - nothing. And knowing him, he'd be holed up in his room anyways. He thought you were going to kill him."

Martin laughed. "Poor guy. I bet I could make him cry."

"Martin!"

"I'm kidding!"

You woke up the next morning groggy and sleepy, but feeling a little better than you had last night. Martin kissed your nose, and you smiled, curling into him, burying your face in his chest. He held you there, running his fingers through your hair. You stayed like that for an hour, just enjoying each other's presence.

"Get dressed." He whispered, patting your hip. You looked up at him with a soft smile, and he squeezed your ass in return.

So you got dressed, in jeans, a t-shirt, and the hoodie from yesterday. You ate breakfast with Martin, pancakes and bacon. Then, you got in the car, and drove to college.

"He lives on the third floor." You said, taking Martin's hand to lead him to Michael's room. Your stomach flip-flopped every step of the way, and once you reached Michael's door, you hesitated. "Martin-"

"Go on." He said. "I'll behave."

"Bullshit." You snorted. But, you knocked.

Michael opened the door - he'd showered and changed clothes, you noted. He looked awfully sorry for himself as he looked at you - then he glanced at Martin, and he gulped. "Hullo." He whispered.

"Hi..." You said. "Can we come in?"

"I thought you said he wasn't going to kill me."

"He won't." You promised.

Martin rested his chin on the top of your head, and he winked at Michael. Michael shivered, but he let you in.

"What's going on?" He asked, closing the door behind you two. "I'm sorry about yesterday, I don't know what came over me."

"I know. I get it." Martin said. To prove his point, he kissed you, lifting your chin up with two fingers. Michael watched, his lips parted. "Believe me, Michael, I understand..." Martin purred, his arm snaking around your waist. "It'd be awful rude of me not to share."

Michael coughed, choking on his own spit. "If you're fucking with me, this isn't funny."

"We're not." You said. "I promise we're not. Michael... you don't have to. But you can if you want." You held your hand out to him, the black nail polish on your fingernails chipped.

He pressed his lips together, fidgeting in place. "I've never - I don't know what to do." He admitted, guilt flashing across his face.

Martin grinned. "Take her hand. We'll show you."

Michael stared at the pair of you, and after a long moment, he did take your hand, his palm sweaty. You smiled, and pulled him closer, just as close as he had you yesterday. You kissed him, slowly and softly at first. Michael was slow to reciprocate, but soon enough he was whining against your lips.

"Easy, poindexter." Martin chuckled. He slid his hands up your waist and under your shirt, his hands cool against your skin. "How badly do you want to taste her?"

Michael gasped, his pretty cheeks flushing a bright red. "I - that's -"

"It's a simple question." Martin said, his hands sliding up your chest, to cup your tits. You hadn't worn a bra, and your breath hitched in delight.

"I mean - I suppose I would - I don't know what to do." He stammered.

Martin grinned. "I'll teach you. Hey, get on the bed."

You obeyed, laying down on your back. Martin took your hoodie off, and looked over his shoulder at Michael. "Get in between her legs. Have you ever seen a pair of tits in real life?"

Michael shook his head as he climbed onto the bed with you two, his hands shaking. You smiled, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Tell you what, if you can make her come, you can touch them. How's that sound?" Martin asked.

You nodded. "I like the sound of that."

Martin licked his lips, equally eager and nervous. "A-agreed."

"Arms up, babe." Martin said. You obeyed, and your shirt was removed. Michael's eyes went wide when he saw your tits, his mouth gaping wide.

"Watch." Martin instructed. He bent down, and kissed your chest, dragging his tongue over your skin. His lips wrapped around your nipple and you moaned, wrapping your hand in his hair. He suckled there for a moment, his hand teasing your other nipple. He lifted his mouth to speak.

"Take her pants off." He instructed.

Michael obeyed. His fingers fumbled with the snap, but soon enough he was tugging them down your thighs, and pushing them to the floor. He eyed your panties, nearly drooling with want.

"Take those off, too." Martin said.

Michael touched you reverently - he was living a waking wet dream, he wanted to savor this. He slid your panties down your legs, and you bit your lip.

"Put them in your pocket." Martin said, sucking a mark into your chest.

Michael nodded, and stuffed them away with a cheeky grin. "Now what?"

Martin chuckled. "Take your best shot."

Michael bit his lip, and slowly lowered his face to your core. He gave you an experimental lick, humming at your taste. He spread your lips, and licked you again - and he clearly knew his anatomy. He rubbed your clit with his tongue, and you moaned softly, your free hand tangling in his hair, too.

"That's it..." Martin purred. "Good boy. Use your fingers, too."

You were already wet for Michael, he was delighted to find. Slowly, he pressed a finger inside of you, his breath hot on your skin.

"Do this." Martin said, demonstrating a 'come hither' motion with his fingers. Michael watched, and committed it to memory. "You'll know if you're doing a good job."

Michael mimicked the motion, and he found your sweet spot with utter ease. Your hand tightened in his hair, and he groaned against you, his hips rocking against the mattress.

It was all so much, being worshiped so feverishly by the pair of them, Martin practically drooling on your tits, and Michael sucking on your clit like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

Which, it was.

It didn't take much to coax you over the edge, and you cried out, squeezing Michael's head between your thighs, the cold wire of his glasses pressing into your skin.

Michael made a sudden choked noise, and by the stuttering of his hips - he had come too, whining pathetically against you. You moaned, and forced your thighs to relax.

Michael sat up from your aching core, his mouth and chin covered in your slick. His glasses were fogged up, and he gave you a cheeky smile. Martin lifted his head from your tits, and kissed him. Michael choked, and shoved him away. Then their lips came smashing back together, Martin hungry for your taste on Michael's lips. You gasped softly, watching Martin's blue tongue disappear into Michael's mouth. Martin took Michael's hand and guided it inside of you. They each had two fingers in your wetness, and they found your sweet spot together.

You squirmed and moaned as Martin uses his free hand to tug on Michael's sandy locks, wrenching his head back. Michael groaned, and as Martin gave him a 'M' mark, his teeth sinking into the genius' skin, you came hard, squirting on their fingers. Your hands twisted in the sheets, so hard they might rip. Your back arched as you cried out their names, your vision going white.

As you came to, panting softly, the boys settled in by your sides. Michael's hand squeezed your tit, and he smiled, nosing into your neck.

"Do you think you're up to fuck her? Martin asked, his voice taunting.

Michael gulped.

To be continued...

[beepboopkek]

— Practice makes perfect (F!Reader)

Including: Dr.Ratio x AFAB!Reader amab version has been posted! cw: !! NSFW !!, afab!reader, established relationship, pwp but barely, you call him veritas, cl1t slapp1ng, 0rga$m d3n1al, c0ckwarm1ng, dr is kinda mean, light degradation , kind of left at a cliffhanger?? idk, a little short, reader is doing math w/c: 1.2k a/n: HELLO IM BACK WITH ANOTHER DRABBLE first time writing for someone other than Jing Yuan so sorry if its not that good ue ue ue im still learning </3 anywyas i somehow got to a 100 followers which is both exciting and concerning but yeag hope u guys like this :3 &lt;3 NSFW BELOW THE CUT

“This simply won't do.”

Your boyfriend huffed in annoyance as your shaking hands continued to—(or well, at least tried to)— do the calculations for the question that shined brightly on the tablet resting on the table.

You couldn't decide whether to be mad at him or yourself for the predicament you were in currently.

— Sat prettily on his lap, your feet barely touching the ground and his cock snugly kept to the hilt within the confines of your pussy.

You exhaled shakily, your body shuddering as his fingers that were previously stimulating your clit were now simply resting atop it.

“Another mistake. How disappointing, I excused the last one but, you really are testing my limits now.”

His head was over your shoulder as he tutted and eyed the screen, watching every move you made and deducing what was correct and what was not.

“Maybe, if you'd let me focus I could—” 

– and suddenly, he raised his hand and landed a quick slap right on your clit.

Your body jerked in response as your words got cut off with a gasp.

The doctor's hand came back to rest on your clit, tapping it gently to soothe the pain from the slap. His other hand that was wrapped around your waist gripped you tightly as he leaned forward, pushing his cock at a deeper angle.

“If I hear another one of your remarks, things won't end well for you. Now, focus.”

You exhaled loudly in frustration as you forced your attention back onto the question, lifting the pen and continuing your calculations.

The both of you had been together for several years now, graduating from The University of Veritas Prime together— Your intellect was almost on par with his.

However, what you were doing now, though, was quite… questionable.

See, unlike him, you preferred the simpler life of teaching at a university. Getting into a guild or something of that sort had never really interested you. But, your boyfriend being… Well, The Veritas Ratio— he had his ways of convincing you to at least work on your mathematical skills to improve further the chances of you getting invited to the Intelligentsia Guild from the IPC.

So, he offered a simple solution.

Tutoring. One-on-one, of course.

… Which snapped you back to the current situation- you were dripping onto the chair on which the two of you were seated. The hard planes of his torso snug against your back.

“Another mistake.” His voice was low in your ear and you could almost feel the annoyance dripping from those words alone.

Fuck. You hadn't even registered what you were writing, your brain growing increasingly fuzzy with the way his cock pressed into all your sensitive spots.

He placed another slap on your clit, your body jerking in response as your pussy clenched around his cock.

“Start counting, Let's see how long you can keep up, hm?” 

“V—Veritas, do I really have to do t—”

Your body jerked as he landed another slap to your already tender clit.

“Address me properly.”

“Fuck— I'm sorry–”

You swallowed down your complaints, knowing it would result in only more punishment if you continued.

“That— that was three.”

Veritas smiled against your shoulder before pressing your hips into his and moving you just a little bit… but nowhere near enough. He kissed the shell of your heated ear,

“That's my girl, I knew you could do it.”

You moaned lightly as he drew circles on your frayed clit before giving it a gentle pinch and then taking away the stimulation altogether— Your heated body simmering down into a somewhat uncomfortable yet pleasurable state.

“Come on now, let's continue. You still have the whole test left.” 

You nodded shakily as you lifted the long-forgotten pen and started writing on the tablet.

This was the fourteenth question, sixteen more to go.

You managed to distract yourself enough to finish the question, The only sounds in the room were the quick taps from your pen and the occasional embarrassingly loud squelching noise from you that came as a result of Veritas moving to get more comfortable. As you finished, you waited with bated breath in hopes that he would say something.

“Is it—is it correct?”

Your boyfriend smiled before uttering a yes and leaning his head forward to kiss your cheek gently.

“Not bad… five points. So, you can be good for me, hm?”

Before you could respond, he spoke up again, “Complete the fifteenth question correctly and I'll consider letting you have an orgasm. How does that sound?”

“Please—”

A small pinch to your clit.

“It was a rhetorical question. Continue.”

You nodded numbly as you willed every fiber in your brain to focus on the question. 

Just as you were about to finish the last bit of the question you felt your boyfriend slowly beginning to massage your clit again, his lips attaching to your shoulder and neck— biting, kissing and licking as he pleased.

“Veritas— Aeons– Let me finish this, please.”

You realised your mistake a second too late, though.

Another slap, accompanied by a loud gasp escaped your mouth as you dropped the pen onto the table, your feet flexing as you processed the sudden mix of sensations that went through you.

“Count.”

Yep, you've just about crossed his limit.

“Four.” 

You steadied your breathing again.

A few beats of silence pass by and you finally finish the fifteenth question. Your breathing picked up again as you awaited Veritas’ next move.

“Half an hour. That's how long you took to finish fifteen simple arithmetic questions.”

He did not sound happy.

Before you could defend yourself, He grabbed you by the waist and stood up, setting your upper body on the table as the digital tablet dissipated.

Your feet were off the ground at this angle, meaning that his strength was the only thing keeping you steady on the table.

Veritas pushed himself deeper inside you as you arched your back, draping his larger frame over yours as he leaned down to talk right next to your ear.

“What would people think, hm? An esteemed professor with seven doctoral degrees reduced to a slobbering mess because of me?”

You only whined in response, your brain had long turned into mush— unable to comprehend anything but him. 

Neither you nor Veritas knew how you held on that long.

“Please— Sir– I did what you asked me to do.”

“I asked you to do 30 questions within half an hour. You managed only half of that.”

His voice was neither stern nor soft— just somewhere in between that you could only describe as– Veritas.

“I suppose, though, I did promise you that I'd consider granting you relief.”

Your face lit up at the thought of finally, finally getting your orgasm— The one that you had been denied for the past thirty minutes.

“Oh, such an adorable expression,”

He gathered both your hands and pinned them on your lower back, gripping them with one of his own. Veritas drew his hips back and thrust back in, moving you and the table ahead.

You moaned at the burst of pleasure, finally— “Tell me the answer to number sixteen.” Shallow thrusts that were just shy of where you were most sensitive. Asshole.You took deep breaths. “I don’t— fuck- know the question—” The digital tablet reappeared in front of you, the question glaring back at you as you whined pathetically. You felt the hand on your hip moving down to squeeze the swell of your ass. It was a warning.

Veritas planted his free hand into your hair and tugs, pulling your head back in a firm grip. “Answer me.”… Maybe accepting his offer wasn’t a good idea.