#but still the mild betrayal? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ikeucity · 29 days ago

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𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨. ― (희승)

「 ᴘᴀʀᴛ (2/4) ᴏꜰ ᴋᴇᴜʀɪ'ꜱ ʟᴏꜱᴇʀ! ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀᴜ 」 previously on loser! edition: 𝗝𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗝𝗘𝗡𝗡𝗜𝗘. ― (제이)

▸ pairing. loser!heeseung x tutor!reader ▸ wc. 36k

warning. this story contains themes of slow-burn romance, fluff, and mild angst, sub!hee (??), alcohol-use, cute drunk moments, emotional connection. while the story leans heavily on wholesome and lighthearted moments, there may be mild language and themes of insecurity. explicit content (18+). mdni.

after jay kicks him out for drunkenly spilling his secret, heeseung is set on drowning his sorrows. what he doesn’t know is that you’ve had your eye on him for a while. with a bit of liquid courage, you decide to make your move. your attempt to impress heeseung leads to way more than you bargained for.

credits to @slvtella, she is the one who gave me a base storyline and i just added sprinkles.

heeseung stumbled out of jay’s room, his vision swimming a little as the vodka hit him hard. he could still feel the embarrassment creeping up his neck, heat rising to his face as he replayed the disaster in his mind. why the fuck did he have to blurt out the one thing no one needed to hear tonight? jennie. jay’s fucking sex doll. heeseung groaned, rubbing the back of his neck, cringing at the memory. he had one job tonight—be the perfect wingman, help jay finally hook up with the girl he’d been crushing on for months. instead, he got piss-drunk and spilled the dumbest secret right in front of her. he could still see the look on jay’s face, the way it shifted from shock to betrayal in seconds. heeseung felt like a fucking idiot. “stupid, fucking idiot,” he muttered under his breath, avoiding eye contact with anyone as he pushed through the crowded room. it felt like every pair of eyes was on him, like they all knew what he’d done. the music was loud, bass pounding through the floor, laughter and chatter filling the air, but it didn’t matter. all he felt was out of place, a walking fuck-up. he definitely needed more alcohol. heeseung found his way to the kitchen, grabbed the first bottle he saw, and made a beeline for the couch. the couch was safe, away from the crowd, away from the judgment. he slumped down, tipping the bottle back, letting the sharp burn of alcohol flood his throat. maybe if he drank enough, he’d forget how badly he screwed up.

the party moved on without him. people laughed, danced, paired off, while heeseung just sat there, watching like a ghost. he wasn’t part of their world, not tonight. maybe not ever. he could feel the alcohol numbing him, dulling the sharp edges of his embarrassment, but not enough to forget. “what a fucking night,” he muttered, taking another drink. he wasn’t the guy who got the girl, never was. just the awkward dude who couldn’t even wingman right. maybe that’s why he got so wasted in the first place, trying to feel like he belonged here, like he could keep up with everyone else. heeseung shifted, his eyes catching the couple next to him. they were all over each other, lips locked, hands roaming. he could feel their heat, their bodies pressed so close he could practically feel them on his skin. he tensed up, looking away, pretending like he wasn’t sitting there, the third wheel on their couch. he tried to move, inch away, but his legs felt like lead, weighed down by the alcohol. their wet kisses filled his ears, the low murmur of their voices mixing with the music. it was too much. he gripped the bottle tighter, praying for an escape, but every time he looked around, the room seemed more packed, more suffocating. moving meant more awkward interactions, more people looking at him like he didn’t belong. so, he stayed put, sinking deeper into the couch, swallowing down another long gulp of vodka.

and then he saw you. you were across the room, eyes locked on him. not judging, not laughing. just… watching. there was something in the way you looked at him, something soft, curious. like you saw him, really saw him. and not in the way everyone else did, not like the awkward fuck-up stuck between a horny couple. there was no pity in your gaze, no judgment. heeseung blinked, his heart stuttering in his chest. it wasn’t the alcohol this time—it was you. you looking at him like that. he hadn’t noticed you before, too caught up in his own mess, but now? now you had his full attention. and suddenly, he didn’t feel so invisible. didn’t feel like the guy who always messed everything up. for a second, it felt like maybe, just maybe, the night wasn’t a total loss.

heeseung had no clue you’d been watching him all night.

even now, as he sat there looking like a complete wreck—his hair a tousled mess, his eyes half-shut, drunk as hell, slouched into the couch like he was hoping it’d just swallow him up—you couldn’t tear your eyes away. it was pathetic, honestly. but something about the way he always seemed so out of place, so awkward, drew you in more than it should.

he never noticed you. not like you wanted him to, anyway. you’d been crushing on him for longer than you cared to admit, but always from a distance. it wasn’t like you could just go up to him, make it clear you were into him. he’d probably freeze up, stutter through something dumb, or worse, think you were messing with him.

because that was lee heeseung—awkward as hell, too wrapped up in his own world, and so fucking oblivious it made your chest ache. he wasn’t the guy everyone noticed, wasn’t smooth or charming. he was just… there. but you didn’t care. you liked him. more than you should, probably.

you liked how real he was, how he always seemed like he didn’t know where he fit in, even when he tried so damn hard. he wasn’t perfect, far from it, but that’s what made him so fucking endearing. every time you saw him—whether it was in class, during group work, or at parties like this, blending into the background—you couldn’t help but notice. the way he’d sit off to the side, like he was hoping no one would call on him, or how he zoned out completely, probably thinking about the games he’d play when he got home. you noticed the way his eyes lit up just a little when someone talked about sports, like it was the one thing he was secretly proud of.

and now here he was, stuck on that couch next to some couple basically mauling each other. they were all over each other, hands and mouths everywhere, and heeseung looked more uncomfortable than ever. he was stiff, like he didn’t know what the hell to do with himself, his eyes darting around the room, looking for some way out.

god, it made your heart flip.

you couldn’t stop staring, watching the way he scratched the back of his neck, like he was trying to make himself smaller, invisible. no one else noticed, but you did. you always noticed. and maybe that’s why you’d never had the guts to make a move. you didn’t want to add to his discomfort, didn’t want to freak him out when he already had enough on his plate just trying to survive the night.

you liked him too much. way too much. but you were careful. you stayed in the background, letting him be, never wanting to scare him off. you were always there, always watching, wishing he’d look at you the way you looked at him. but he never did.

until now.

the alcohol in your system was doing something, messing with your head, making you feel brave—or stupid. you weren’t sure which. but for a second, you thought… was he looking at you?

heeseung’s eyes, hazy with drunkenness, seemed to meet yours. his expression was curious, like maybe—just maybe—he’d noticed you this time. your heart skipped a beat, that stupid giddy feeling hitting you hard. but then, just as quickly, the moment passed. he blinked, his gaze darting away, and that familiar awkwardness took over again. it was like he hadn’t even meant to look at you in the first place, just happened to zone out in your direction.

you liked him too much. way too fucking much.

the alcohol wasn’t helping. it was pushing you, telling you to go for it, to stop sitting in the corner like a damn creep and just talk to him. your heart was pounding, your palms fidgeting in your lap as the idea crept up on you. this wasn’t you—you didn’t make moves like this. but right now? with the buzz in your veins and the way he looked like he could use someone to save him from this disaster of a night?

fuck it.

this might be the only chance you had. and besides, you were tipsy. what did you really have to lose?

you shifted in your seat, adrenaline kicking in, your mind spinning with possibilities. it wasn’t like he’d push you away, right? not heeseung. not when he was sitting there, awkward and alone, looking like he’d appreciate anyone giving him a way out.

before you could stop yourself, you stood up, heart racing and mind spinning from the alcohol. heeseung hadn’t even noticed you as you walked toward him, the music and chatter fading into the background, each step toward him feeling heavier, more uncertain. the couple next to him had finally fucked off, leaving the seat next to him empty, and you weren’t about to waste the opportunity. who knew where they went? who cared? it was just you and him now, and that was all that mattered.

as you got closer, you watched heeseung straighten up a little, like he was finally free from the suffocating makeout session happening beside him. you saw the relief in his face, the way his shoulders relaxed, and he let out this small, tired sigh. poor guy had been through hell sitting there. you could almost feel his discomfort from across the room, and it tugged at something deep in your chest. he shifted back against the couch, clearly buzzed, his eyes slightly glazed, and though he wasn’t as tense anymore, there was still that air of frustration clinging to him. you could practically hear the self-deprecating thoughts swirling in his head.

it made your chest ache seeing him frown. you knew he wasn’t the most confident guy, but damn, you didn’t think he was this hard on himself. the more you watched him, the more you wanted to be near him, to sit next to him and maybe make him feel a little less alone in all this mess.

but god, you were just as awkward as he was. every nerve in your body felt like it was buzzing as you made your way over, trying not to trip over your own feet. heeseung, predictably, didn’t even notice you coming. he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts, lost in his head like always.

you stood there for a second, gathering whatever courage you had left, and then slid onto the couch beside him. you tried to do it smoothly, but your nerves made everything feel stiff, awkward. heeseung barely glanced up, still too caught up in his anxious energy, but you could tell he was struggling. the way his body slumped forward a little, the tension in his hands as they gripped the empty bottle… yeah, he was a mess.

you cleared your throat, trying to break through his haze. he glanced at you, almost like he didn’t really see you at first, and then quickly looked away. classic heeseung—too stuck in his own head to notice when someone was actually paying attention to him.

“hey,” you said, voice shaky but determined. “uh, you good?” as soon as the words left your mouth, you cringed internally. seriously? that’s what you went with? but it was too late to take it back now.

he blinked, staring at his drink for a moment before glancing at you again. “uh, yeah. fine.” his voice was quiet, almost unsure, and he took another quick sip, like he was trying to drink his nerves away. you weren’t surprised, honestly. you’d expected this.

you pushed forward, hoping to keep the conversation alive despite the awkward start. “so, uh… you come to these things often?” you winced as the words left your mouth, knowing how lame and cliché they sounded. his lips twitched, maybe the beginning of a smile, but it quickly disappeared as he turned back to his drink, downing more of it.

“not really…” he mumbled, voice already slurring a bit. yeah, he was definitely drunk, and he was definitely not handling it well. heeseung was never the guy who could drink much without turning into this red, nervous, slurry mess.

but you weren’t about to give up. leaning in slightly, you tried again. “it’s pretty loud in here, huh? kinda overwhelming.”

he nodded, muttering something under his breath as he took another long drink, clearly hoping the alcohol would somehow make him less awkward. but instead, it seemed to pull him deeper into his own head. with each sip, he retreated further, barely answering your questions.

by the third question, it was clear he wasn’t going to be much of a conversationalist tonight. he was chugging his drink like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart, and you could tell he was barely hanging on. “so… what do you do when you’re not, uh, here?” you asked, trying to steer the conversation into something he might enjoy talking about.

heeseung blinked, his face flushed as he struggled to respond. “uh… y’know… stuff,” he muttered, sounding more and more like he wanted to disappear into the couch entirely.

you sighed softly, not even upset. still, it was a little disappointing to see him this far gone, too drunk to even attempt to keep up the conversation. heeseung had a habit of sabotaging himself like this, and tonight was no exception.

eventually, his words turned into grunts, his eyes growing heavier with each drink. you couldn’t help but chuckle softly, watching him fumble with the now-empty bottle, clearly surprised he’d finished it so fast. his hands scrambled awkwardly on the table, searching for more alcohol, and you watched him with an amused smile, feeling the warmth of your own buzz settling in.

you had no idea how many drinks you’d had at this point, but you were tipsy enough to feel bolder, less afraid of making a fool of yourself. seeing him struggle for another drink, you leaned in, holding out your cup with a small grin. “hey, you can have mine.”

he looked at you, blinking a few times like he was trying to process what you’d just said. for a moment, you thought he’d refuse, but then he let out a quiet, awkward laugh and took the cup from you. “uh, okay…” he mumbled, his fingers brushing against yours as he took it, that tiny contact sending a spark through you, making your heart skip.

you watched him take a sip, his eyes lingering on the cup like it was the holy grail, and for the first time tonight, he seemed a little more… open. maybe it was the alcohol loosening him up, or maybe it was because you’d given him something without expecting anything back. either way, he wasn’t brushing you off anymore.

he took another small sip before looking at the cup again, then back at you. he hesitated for a second, then held it out to you, his fingers brushing yours as he handed it back. “here… you probably want this back,” he slurred, his voice soft, a little unsure. you smiled, shaking your head as you gently pushed the cup back toward him.

“nah, it’s all yours. seriously,” you said, your heart skipping at the brief contact.

he blinked, glancing down at the cup before he looked back up at you, a bit surprised. “oh… uh, thanks,” he muttered, clearly still a little thrown off by your kindness, but not nearly as guarded as before.

you tried again, feeling a little braver now. “so… you having an okay time?”

this time, he didn’t hide behind the cup. he glanced at you, his expression softening just a bit. “uh, yeah… just, y’know, not really good at these party things,” he admitted, his words still slurred, but now more open, more willing to talk. “too many people… and, uh, stuff.”

you nodded, sipping the last bit of your own drink, feeling the warmth spread through your veins. “yeah, i get it. sometimes it’s a lot. but hey… at least you’ve got me to talk to now, right?”

heeseung blinked again, like he hadn’t even considered that you might actually want to talk to him. “yeah… I guess so,” he mumbled, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. it was small, barely there, but it was enough to make your heart flutter a little.

with both of you sufficiently drunk, the tension started to ease. maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that he was starting to realize you weren’t here to judge him, weren’t here to make him feel awkward or like shit for being himself. either way, conversation started to flow, clumsy and random, but comfortable.

each time you asked a question, heeseung would take a sip, trying to answer without tripping over his words. you found yourself laughing softly at his attempts to sound smoother than he was, finding his drunken honesty almost endearing.

heeseung was definitely at the point where you knew he wasn’t going to remember anything tomorrow. his eyes were glazed over, movements slow and a little too loose, words slurring together more with every sip. but there was something cute about how hard he was trying to stay present, like he wanted to keep talking, even though the alcohol was winning.

you, on the other hand, were riding the same buzz, but it just made you bolder, like all your usual fears had melted away. and before you could stop yourself, the question slipped out.

“so… you like games, right?”

you already knew the answer, of course. heeseung always talked about games whenever you managed to get him to open up, but something about the alcohol made you want to hear it again. maybe it was just an excuse to keep him talking, to keep the conversation going.

heeseung blinked, slow and confused, like he was trying to process what you just asked. “games?” he repeated, voice thick and sluggish, but then he gave you a small, drunken smile. “yeah… love ‘em. they’re, uh, fun.”

you bit your lip to keep from laughing at how ridiculously simple his answer was. “yeah? what’s your favorite?” you pressed, not even caring that you already knew—he was talking, and that was all you wanted.

he squinted, like he was trying to remember through the haze in his head. “uh… I dunno. depends,” he muttered, gripping the cup a little tighter as he took another shaky sip. “like… fps stuff. and sports games. y’know.”

you chuckled softly, nodding. “fps, huh? that’s cool. I bet you’re pretty good at them.”

he shrugged, but a small, shy smile crept onto his lips again. “yeah… I guess,” he slurred, his head tilting a little as he tried to focus on you. “but I dunno, ’m not good at… other stuff,” he mumbled, voice growing softer, trailing off into his drunken haze.

you leaned in, feeling a rush of warmth as you pressed a little more. “what do you mean, ‘other stuff’? come on, you’re good at games, right?”

he let out a half-hearted laugh, his eyes closing briefly like he was fighting off sleep. “maybe… but not good at, uh… everything else,” he mumbled, barely holding on to the conversation.

“we should play sometime,” you said, throwing it out there without expecting much, just feeling bold enough to suggest it.

he blinked slowly, his head bobbing a little before he mumbled, “yeah… that’d be cool.”

and with that, he slumped back into the couch, his drink slipping from his hand as he finally gave in to the drunkenness, completely checked out. you sighed softly, shaking your head with a smile as you watched him.

the brief moment of contentment you had was short-lived. reality smacked you hard—he wasn’t going to remember any of this. not you, not the awkward conversation, nothing. what the hell were you even doing? he was practically passed out, slumped against the couch like a dead weight. there was no way he was going to remember anything, let alone you trying to talk to him.

you sighed, glancing around the party, hoping someone—anyone—might notice how far gone heeseung was. but no one gave a shit. everyone was too busy dancing, making out, or lost in their own little worlds to even glance in his direction. great. of course, no one noticed. and where the hell was jay? wasn’t he supposed to be keeping an eye on things, especially since heeseung came with him?

you scanned the room again, feeling your stomach twist in frustration. still no sign of jay. perfect. heeseung’s head lolled to the side, completely oblivious to the chaos around him. someone needed to make sure he got home safe, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be him.

“heeseung?” you leaned closer, shaking his shoulder lightly, trying to wake him up. no response. you tried again, a little louder, shaking him harder this time. “hey, come on. wake up. you're wasted, we need to take you home.”

his eyes fluttered open, but he looked so out of it, like he had no idea where he was. “home…?” he mumbled, his voice a raspy whisper.

“yeah, home. do you even know where your phone is?” you asked, your concern growing as you watched him struggle to focus.

he blinked slowly, his hands fumbling through his pockets but coming up empty. “uh… no?” he muttered, his voice barely coherent.

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t shake the worry settling in. “okay, hold on. we’ll figure it out.” you glanced around again, hoping jay would miraculously show up, but no such luck. just more people partying.

“heeseung, you gotta wake up a little,” you said, shaking him again, but he was barely coherent. his eyes opened for a second before closing again, his head drooping back down.

this was gonna be a long night.

he stirred slightly, blinking up at you with that same drunken daze. for a second, you thought maybe he was starting to come around, but then, in the most slurred, half-assed voice, he muttered, “y'know… if i was a controller… i’d let you push all my buttons.”

you stared at him, blinking. did he really just say that?

his eyes widened in slow motion as the realization hit him, his face turning bright red. he groaned, slapping his hands over his face like he could hide from the embarrassment. “shit… that was so dumb,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his hands. “why’d i say that…”

you couldn’t help it—you laughed. it was absurd, so random, and so fucking corny, but in the cutest way possible. “seriously, heeseung?” you teased, biting back more laughter as he squirmed in embarrassment. “that’s your best line?”

he let out another groan, his hands still covering his face. “i’m such an idiot,” he muttered. “just… pretend i didn’t say that. please.”

shaking your head, you grinned despite how ridiculous the situation was. yeah, he was a drunken mess, but that dumb line somehow made you like him even more. “don’t worry, it wasn’t that bad,” you said, nudging his arm lightly. “just… maybe save the pick-up lines for when you’re less drunk.”

heeseung peeked out from behind his hands, his face still flushed, and let out a defeated sigh. “god, i’m really gonna forget all this tomorrow, aren’t i?” he muttered, sounding like he’d already accepted his fate.

you sighed, the reality hitting you again. “yeah, probably. but hey, at least you’ll forget that awful line too.”

he gave a weak laugh, still clearly mortified but trying to play it off. “i’m gonna need to drink even more to forget that one,” he half-joked, his hand fumbling around, searching for another drink. but before he could even find anything, his body gave out completely, and he blacked out mid-reach.

without any warning, he collapsed off the couch, hitting the floor with a loud thud. your eyes widened in shock, a shriek of surprise slipping out before you could stop it. “heeseung! oh my god!” you gasped, scrambling to check if he was okay.

you dropped to your knees next to him, heart pounding as panic started to rise in your chest. heeseung was out cold, completely knocked out from the alcohol. shit. you tried shaking him gently, calling his name, but nothing. he didn’t even stir. not even a flinch.

“heeseung?” you called again, shaking his shoulder a little harder, but he was gone. damn it. you couldn’t just leave him like this. you needed to find jay or someone who could help, but when you glanced around the room, it was clear no one was paying attention.

where the hell is jay? you cursed under your breath. wasn’t this his party? wasn’t he supposed to make sure shit like this didn’t happen? you got up, your eyes darting around, searching for any sign of him. you started knocking on random doors, hoping one of them would lead to jay.

after a couple of tries, you heard a muffled voice from behind one of the doors. “JUST GO AWAY!”

you froze. that was definitely jay, and he sounded pissed. you stared at the door, debating whether to knock again, but you weren’t about to deal with him in that mood. he’s clearly busy with his own shit, you thought, your stomach twisting in frustration.

with a sigh, you glanced back at where heeseung was sprawled on the floor, completely out of it. no one else was going to help, and jay was a lost cause. guess it’s up to me.

you took a deep breath, steeling yourself. there’s no way i’m leaving him here like this. he’d never make it on his own, and no one else seemed to care. kneeling down beside him, you muttered, “okay, heeseung… let’s get you home,” even though you knew he wasn’t going to hear you.

you tried lifting him, but holy shit, he was heavier than he looked. “damn it,” you grunted, barely managing to prop him up against the couch. “come on, work with me here,” you muttered under your breath, even though you knew he was too far gone to do anything.

shit, where does this guy even live? you stared at him for a moment, realizing you had no idea. you shook his shoulder again, this time a bit more urgently. “heeseung? hey, you gotta wake up. where do you live?”

he blinked up at you, his eyes unfocused, his head swaying as he tried to process what you said. “wha…?” he mumbled, voice thick and slurred.

“heeseung, i need to get you home. where do you live?” you asked again, louder, hoping something would click in his foggy brain.

he blinked again, looking like he was trying to focus, then lazily pointed in some random direction. “i… live, uh… over… there?” he mumbled, before his hand flopped back into his lap like he’d just given you the most important information ever.

you couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous this was. “yeah, over where exactly, genius?” you muttered, giving him another shake. “come on, focus. where’s your house?”

heeseung squinted, his face scrunched up like he was trying to solve the hardest math problem ever. “my house… well, we’re not at my house right now,” he said, giggling to himself like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

you rolled your eyes, but a laugh slipped out before you could stop it. “yeah, thanks for clearing that up.”

he squinted again, like he was finally realizing how unhelpful he was being. “no, wait… i got this,” he slurred, lifting a finger like he was about to say something profound. “my mom… she makes pancakes. really good ones,” he mumbled, his head bobbing as he tried to stay awake.

you sighed, half amused, half frustrated. “heeseung, how is that supposed to help me get you home?”

he shrugged weakly, his eyelids fluttering shut. “i dunno… but pancakes are good,” he mumbled, clearly on the verge of passing out again.

god, this is going nowhere, you thought, trying to suppress a smile. as much of a mess as he was, you couldn’t help but find the whole situation kind of funny. here he was, trying his best to be helpful, and all he could come up with were pancakes and vague directions.

“alright, buddy,” you muttered with a sigh, shaking him a little more firmly. “let’s try this again. do you know your address?”

heeseung nodded, then immediately paused, like he’d forgotten what you just asked him. “uh… what was the question?” he mumbled.

you sighed, shaking him a bit harder. “heeseung, please. what’s your address?”

he blinked slowly, and after a few moments, it finally seemed to register. “oh… uh… i live like… three blocks from here? yeah… three blocks,” he muttered, sounding half-asleep but at least coherent enough to give you a real answer.

“three blocks?” you repeated, more to yourself than him. “okay, i can work with that.”

looking down at him, still a complete mess but not entirely unconscious, you steeled yourself for what was coming. “alright, come on,” you said, grabbing his arm and using every bit of strength you had to pull him up. “let’s get you home.”

heeseung stumbled to his feet, barely managing to stay upright as he leaned heavily against you. as you guided him toward the door, his body weight pressing into yours, he gave you this drunken, confused look, his words slurred as he blinked at you in disbelief. “you’re really helping me? why?”

you couldn’t help but laugh a little at how genuinely surprised he sounded. “because i’m not about to let you pass out on some random couch—or worse, end up in a ditch,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “someone’s gotta make sure you don’t get lost trying to find your way home.”

heeseung blinked again, his face scrunching up in a mix of confusion and what looked like genuine gratitude. “oh… that’s nice,“ he mumbled, sounding almost touched. "thanks… like, really… that’s… nice.”

you shook your head with a grin, keeping him steady as you both made your way out of the house and into the cool night air. the sounds of the party faded behind you, replaced by the quiet of the neighborhood, the occasional distant car the only noise breaking the stillness.

"it’s no big deal,” you said, adjusting your grip on his arm to keep him from wobbling too much. “just making sure you don’t end up in a situation you’re gonna really regret tomorrow.”

heeseung let out a low, awkward chuckle. “yeah… ‘preciate it. didn’t think anyone’d… care enough to help,” he muttered, still sounding like he couldn’t quite believe you were doing this.

you glanced over at him, his head lolling slightly as he stumbled along. despite his drunken state, you couldn’t help but smile softly. “well, now you know someone does.”

you walked in relative silence for a bit, his steps still unsteady, but he was at least following your lead. but then, halfway to his place, he suddenly mumbled. “man, i was already at jay’s house, though. i could’ve just crashed there… people know me there…” his words dragged out, like he was trying to convince himself of something. “and now i gotta walk home… and… i gotta pee…”

you stopped in your tracks, blinking at him. oh, my god. he was right. this whole party is at jay’s place. of course he could’ve stayed there. your stomach twisted as the realization sank in. “oh my god, i’m an idiot.”

heeseung, in his drunken haze, nodded solemnly, like you’d just made some grand discovery. “yeah… but i gotta pee though.”

“wait, when i knocked on jay’s door earlier, he sounded super pissed,” you explained quickly, trying to justify your mistake. “i didn’t think he’d let you crash there. he seemed really… busy.”

heeseung blinked a few times, processing your words through his foggy brain before shrugging lazily. “yeah… jay can be a dick when he’s stressed.” he stumbled forward again, catching himself on you. “but, uh… yeah, it’s my fault. i said some dumb shit earlier. no wonder he’s mad.” he sighed, his head hanging lower. “guess i really do need to go home.”

you stood there for a second, letting it all sink in. turning back now seemed pointless. you’d already walked this far, and heeseung himself had admitted that he probably pissed jay off. crashing there would’ve likely been a disaster anyway.

you sighed, adjusting your grip on him again. “well, we’re almost halfway there. might as well keep going,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “and, uh… we’ll find somewhere for you to pee on the way.”

heeseung let out a half-drunken chuckle. “thanks for… not leaving me in a ditch.”

“yeah, well, you’re welcome. just… don’t pee on yourself, okay?” you teased, shaking your head as a small smile tugged at your lips. the whole situation was absurd, but somehow you were both laughing about it.

“actually… if you could stop here?” heeseung mumbled suddenly, already fumbling with his belt as he swayed slightly. you blinked at him, confused for a second, but then it hit you—he was really about to pee. right here.

“uh, okay, sure,” you muttered, glancing around awkwardly as he stumbled off to the side of the sidewalk, finding a random bush to aim at. you quickly turned your back, trying to give him a bit of privacy, though the whole situation felt ridiculous.

you stared up at the sky, doing your best to pretend this wasn’t happening. this night just keeps getting better, you thought, cringing as the unmistakable sound of him fumbling around and finally peeing filled the air.

heeseung froze midstream, clearly realizing how loud it was. “uh… sorry, this is… louder than i thought,” he mumbled, his voice laced with embarrassment.

you couldn’t help but snort, biting your lip to keep from laughing out loud. “it’s fine, heeseung. just… finish up,” you said, shaking your head, doing your best not to die from secondhand embarrassment. what a mess.

heeseung groaned softly. “i’m so fucking sorry… this is the worst…”

“just… don’t fall over, okay?” you teased, still looking away, but you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“i'm trying,” he muttered, clearly more embarrassed with every passing second. the sound of his pee hitting the ground seemed to echo in the quiet night, and you could practically feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating off him.

finally, after what felt like the longest, most awkward moment of your life, he zipped up and stumbled back over to you, still red-faced and avoiding your gaze. “okay… all done,” he mumbled, clearly mortified.

“great,” you said, trying to sound upbeat as you started walking again. “let’s never speak of this again.”

as you reached out to steady him, your arm slipping around his waist to support him for the walk ahead, heeseung suddenly jerked back a little, still wobbly but clearly distressed. “shit… i didn’t wash my hands,” he mumbled, voice thick with drunken regret, like this was the worst thing that had happened all night.

you couldn’t hold it in anymore. a loud, genuine laugh burst out of you, echoing down the quiet street. “oh my god, heeseung, it’s fine,” you managed between fits of laughter, your shoulders shaking as you tried to hold yourself together. “we’ll survive.”

he blinked at you, his expression confused and a little lost, staring at his hands like they were contaminated with something deadly. “but, like… germs,” he slurred, his face scrunched in concern.

“it’s fine,” you repeated, still giggling as you shook your head at the absurdity of the situation. “we’ve been through so much tonight. i think i’ll survive without you washing your hands.”

heeseung squinted at you for a second, then let out a small, sheepish laugh. “yeah… okay,” he muttered, stumbling back toward you. “but, like… sorry.”

“no need to apologize for that,” you said, still grinning as you slipped your arm back around him, helping him walk again, this time without him pulling away. “you’re not the first drunk person to forget about hygiene.”

he chuckled, leaning heavily on you as you both continued down the street, a little more relaxed now that the awkwardness had passed. “still… i’m a mess, huh?” he mumbled, more to himself than to you.

“yeah,” you agreed with a soft smile, keeping him steady. “but it’s okay.”

because it was heeseung. no matter how messy, awkward, or downright ridiculous the night had been, it was perfect in its own weird way. the fact that you were here with him—this version of him, drunken, embarrassed, and just so him—made it feel like something special.

heeseung, oblivious to the thoughts running through your mind, kept leaning on you, muttering little apologies under his breath, his head hanging low as he walked. but you couldn’t stop smiling. you could’ve left him at the party, passed out and miserable, let him wake up tomorrow with no memory of any of this. but instead, you were here, guiding him home, laughing at his drunken antics, and feeling this strange sense of contentment.

he might forget everything by morning—forget the dumb pick-up line, the awkwardness, even this entire walk home. but you wouldn’t. this wasn’t perfect by any traditional standard, but it was real. and in its own way, that made it… kind of perfect.

as you both continued walking, the night air cool around you, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. this moment, as strange and chaotic as it was, felt like yours to hold onto.

finally, after what felt like forever, you made it to heeseung’s house. your legs ached a little from the walk, but relief washed over you as you stood in front of his door. you reached out and rang the doorbell, hoping someone inside would answer and help you out.

nothing.

you rang it again. still nothing.

“come on,” you muttered under your breath, glancing over at heeseung, who was leaning against the wall beside the door, half out of it. he was barely holding himself up, his head bobbing as he blinked slowly at the house.

“heeseung,” you said, nudging him lightly. “do you have a key or something?”

he mumbled something incoherent, still not exactly helping the situation. you sighed, running a hand through your hair as you tried to figure out what to do next. standing there for what felt like forever, you finally turned to him again.

“heeseung, come on. help me out here. do you even live here?”

he blinked a few more times, his expression blank before he suddenly focused on the door. “oh… wait… yeah, it’s unlocked,” he slurred, like it had just occurred to him.

you stared at him, a mix of disbelief and amusement washing over you. “seriously? you could’ve mentioned that ten minutes ago.”

heeseung just grinned sleepily. “sorry… drunk.”

you sighed, shaking your head as you reached for the door handle and pushed it open. “alright, let’s get you inside.”

you helped him inside, guiding him carefully through the doorway, but the second you stepped into the dimly lit entrance, hesitation washed over you. you glanced at heeseung, who was barely able to stand, his body weight practically leaning on you, and then around the quiet house. should you even be here?

“um… are you sure i should help you in?” you asked, unsure if you were overstepping. the last thing you wanted was to intrude, but the thought of leaving him in this state alone didn’t sit right either.

heeseung gave a lazy nod, still leaning heavily on you, his words slurred. “yeah… i’m good. you’re good. ‘s fine,” he mumbled, though the way he said it wasn’t exactly convincing.

you carefully stepped inside, trying not to make too much noise just in case his parents were home. the last thing you needed was to wake them up and have to explain why their son was stumbling around like he’d just lost a fight with a bottle of vodka. tiptoeing through the house, your nerves on edge, you glanced around—it was eerily quiet.

“heeseung… where’s your room?” you whispered, praying he’d give you a straight answer.

he squinted at you like you’d asked him to solve a riddle. “uh… upstairs? or… maybe… downstairs?” he mumbled, clearly just as lost in his own house as you were.

he thought about it for another second before nodding. “upstairs… definitely upstairs,” he slurred, as if he’d finally cracked the code.

you gave him a skeptical look but decided to roll with it. slowly, you began leading him up the stairs, each step feeling like an exercise in stealth, hoping with every creak that no one else would wake up. your heart raced a little more with every step, praying you’d get to his room without waking anyone.

at the top of the stairs, you paused, glancing down the hallway. “okay, which one’s your room?” you asked quietly.

heeseung blinked, swaying a little as he pointed down the hall. “uh… second door on the right? yeah, that’s it,” he mumbled, his voice full of uncertainty.

you sighed but figured it was the best lead you had. guiding him to the door, you opened it slowly, half-expecting it to be the wrong room.

“alright, home sweet home,” you whispered as you helped him inside. “now let’s get you into bed before you pass out in the hallway.”

as you stepped into his room, his scent hit you instantly—a mix of something clean but a little musky, warm, and somehow comforting. your heart fluttered for a moment, and you took in your surroundings. the room was exactly what you’d expected, messy but lived-in. clothes were strewn across the floor, his gaming setup in the corner, and his bed, barely made, was in complete disarray. it was so… him.

distracted by the details of his space, you shook it off and focused on the task at hand. get him to the bed. guiding him over to the mattress, you gently helped him sit down. he flopped back with a groan, limbs heavy and uncooperative, sprawling across the bed in a way that made you shake your head.

as you were about to leave him to sleep it off, you noticed how dry and cracked his lips were. he’s gotta be dehydrated, you thought, glancing around the room for something. you spotted a half-full water bottle on his desk and grabbed it, kneeling beside the bed.

“hey, heeseung, drink this,” you said softly, nudging his shoulder to wake him enough to take a sip. “come on, you’ll feel better.”

he blinked groggily, clearly struggling to stay awake, but when he saw the water, he mumbled something incoherent and reached out slowly. you guided the bottle to his lips, tipping it carefully as he took a few slow, sloppy sips. a bit of water spilled down his chin, but he managed to drink most of it.

“there you go,” you murmured, using your sleeve to wipe the droplets from his face. “better?”

he hummed softly, his eyes already closing again, the water seemingly calming him a little. “thanks…” he muttered, his voice barely audible as he sank deeper into the bed, finally looking more comfortable.

you couldn’t help but smile at how helpless he looked, sprawled out like a kid who’d played too hard and crashed. he was a mess, but god, you couldn’t deny how endearing he was in this state. with a soft sigh, you stood there for a moment longer, just taking him in—his messy hair, flushed face, the way he was finally peaceful after such a chaotic night.

“thanks, heeseung, i had a lot of fun,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, knowing he wouldn’t hear or remember any of this. it didn’t matter, though. this night had been something you’d treasure, as imperfect as it was.

you pulled out your phone, glancing at the screen, debating whether to text someone for a ride home. as you turned to leave, ready to let him sleep off the rest of his drunken haze, you suddenly felt a tug on your arm. your heart jumped in your chest.

heeseung had grabbed your wrist, his grip clumsy but just firm enough to stop you from walking away. you turned, wide-eyed, looking down at him. he was still half-asleep, his eyes barely open, but the message was clear—he didn’t want you to leave.

“where’re you going?” heeseung slurred, his voice low and heavy with sleep, but the question hit you harder than you expected. your pulse raced, caught completely off guard by the way he held onto your wrist, his grip firm enough to keep you there. for a moment, you couldn’t even find the words to respond.

“home,” you finally managed to whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. his hand was hot against your skin, and despite how out of it he was, heeseung managed to pull you closer. before you knew it, you were standing right at the edge of his bed, his sleepy eyes blinking up at you like he was trying to figure out what to say next.

heeseung stared at you, his brow furrowed in concentration as if he was trying to fight through the fog in his brain. “you… don’t have to go,” he mumbled, slurring his words but sounding oddly sincere. “i… i’m really glad you helped me and… y’know, stayed.”

you raised an eyebrow, half amused and half confused. “heeseung, you’re drunk.”

he groaned softly, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “yeah, but… i don’t want you to leave yet,” he admitted, his voice nervous as his eyes darted away. then, out of nowhere, he blurted, “you can… maybe just… stay here?” the moment the words left his mouth, his face flushed deep red, and he quickly backpedaled. “i mean—not like that! i mean, we could… like, just…”

he trailed off, clearly mortified, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly at his awkwardness. “what are you trying to say, heeseung?” you teased, watching as his face grew even redder.

he sputtered, clearly struggling to string together a coherent thought. “i—I’m not asking you to sleep with me! i just meant—you could, uh, cuddle? if you wanted to?” his voice grew quieter with each word, until he was practically whispering, his eyes wide with embarrassment.

you stifled a laugh, shaking your head. “heeseung, you don’t even know me,” you said teasingly, though your heart was doing flips at how vulnerable he was being.

he looked up at you, his eyes a little glassy but serious despite the alcohol clouding his mind. “i… i know enough,” he mumbled, his words slow and slurred. “you’re not dangerous. and you kept up with me even when i was, uh, difficult.”

he tugged on your wrist gently again, his expression almost pleading. “just… please?” he asked softly. “it’s… nice when you’re here.”

your heart melted a little at his honesty, and you let out a quiet sigh before sitting down on the edge of his bed. the moment you did, his grip on your wrist loosened, and heeseung gave you a sleepy, grateful smile. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

he blinked up at you with his heavy-lidded eyes, his face still flushed with both drunkenness and embarrassment. “so, um…” he slurred, clearly nervous, “how can i politely ask you to allow me to cuddle you?”

you couldn’t help but laugh softly at how ridiculous he sounded. in all his drunken glory, he somehow managed to be both an absolute mess and the sweetest guy in the room. as he sluggishly shifted toward the pillows, his movements slow and awkward, it was clear he was urging you to follow him, his hand still loosely holding onto yours.

you stared at him, unsure if you should actually move closer, but heeseung was fully beckoning you, his eyes droopy yet focused on you, like he wasn’t going to let you leave without getting his way.

“uh…” you hesitated. “heeseung, I don’t think you’re exactly in your right mind right now.”

he looked up at you with the most pitiful puppy-dog eyes, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “but… i really wanna cuddle,” he mumbled, his voice soft and a little pleading. “and you’re… really comfy-looking.”

“comfy-looking?” you repeated, biting back a laugh.

he nodded, his head bobbing lazily as he made grabby hands at you from the bed. “yeah… you’re like… a human pillow or something.”

you snorted at that. a human pillow? only heeseung could make something that ridiculous sound like a compliment.

“come on,” he muttered, slurring his words even more as he patted the spot beside him. “just… for a bit. i’ll be good, i swear.”

with a sigh, you finally gave in, sitting down beside him on the bed. “okay, but if you drool on me, I’m leaving,” you teased, though your heart was hammering in your chest.

heeseung grinned lazily, clearly pleased with himself, and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “deal,” he mumbled, already half-buried under the blankets, his breath warm against your shoulder.

“wow, you smell good,” he mumbled sleepily against your shoulder, his voice thick with drowsiness but laced with genuine appreciation. his nose brushed lightly against your skin as he inhaled deeply, like he was savoring the scent.

you froze, your heart pounding in your chest. was this really happening? heeseung was cuddled up next to you, telling you that you smelled good, like it was the most casual thing in the world, while your brain was going into overdrive.

“you smell like…” he paused, his words slow and thoughtful despite his drunken state, “like… vanilla. and… something warm, like fresh laundry.”

you blinked, caught off guard by how oddly specific his observation was. vanilla? fresh laundry? it wasn’t anything special, just the everyday scent of you—clean, comfortable, and familiar. and somehow, even in his drunken haze, he’d picked up on that.

your cheeks flushed as he snuggled closer, his arm loosely draped around your waist, his warmth radiating against you. is this real? your mind screamed as your heart raced, pounding in your chest like it was about to explode.

heeseung nuzzled closer, his breath tickling the side of your neck as he lazily muttered, "yeah, like… really comfy. you feel… safe.” his voice trailed off, and for a moment, you thought he was finally drifting off to sleep.

but then, you felt it—something unmistakable pressing lightly against your thigh.

was he…? your brain scrambled, trying to process the situation as the atmosphere shifted from soft and sweet to something entirely different. heeseung, still half-drunk and completely unaware of what he was doing, shifted closer, his body pressing tightly against yours. his arm around your waist pulled you into him, and he let out a soft sigh, completely oblivious to the storm he was creating inside you. your mind was a mess, caught between pure panic and disbelief. part of you wanted to wake him up, shake him out of this, and bolt for the door. but the other part of you… the part that didn’t want to admit how much you liked this, that part wanted to stay.

you shifted, trying to pull away, to put some distance between you and heeseung, but your body betrayed you, jerking forward in an awkward attempt to escape. and that’s when it got worse. every time you moved, he pressed closer, chasing the warmth of your body like he was seeking comfort. the way he nestled against you, so warm, so close—it made your mind spiral with thoughts you couldn’t control.

oh god, how big is he? the question flashed through your mind before you could stop it, heat rushing to your face as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. stop it, stop thinking like that, you scolded yourself, but it was impossible. his body was too close, too solid, too… there.

you swallowed hard, guilt creeping in as you realized that, drunk or not, heeseung had no idea what he was doing. he’s drunk, you reminded yourself. he doesn’t know. but every time you shifted to create some space, he followed, letting out a soft, sleepy groan and instinctively pressing deeper into you.

and before you knew it, his body had nestled itself right between your thighs. your breath caught in your throat, and every little movement from him sent a ticklish, torturous sensation through you. you tried to ignore it, to focus on anything else, but then his hard length brushed against your clothed core, and your hips jerked involuntarily, a wave of panic and heat spreading through you.

oh fuck, this is bad. you could feel it—feel yourself getting wet, and your mind screamed at you to do something, anything, to get out of this situation before it got worse. but heeseung, completely unaware, kept moving closer, his body acting on autopilot, chasing the comfort of your warmth.

you froze, caught between the desire that was creeping in and the guilt that was clawing at your conscience. what the hell were you supposed to do now? your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—desire, confusion, guilt, panic. you were stuck, unable to pull yourself away, and then the worst thing happened.

a soft, unexpected moan slipped from your lips.

the second the sound left your mouth, heeseung’s breathing changed. it became heavier, more deliberate, like he was responding to the noise. a low groan rumbled from him, and though his movements were sluggish, they felt more… intentional.

his hot breath fanned over your ear, and before you could stop yourself, you turned your head, desperate to see if he was awake—if he was really aware of what he was doing. and that’s when your eyes met his.

your breath hitched.

he was already looking at you, his eyes half-lidded and dazed, but there was an intensity behind them that made your pulse race. but the more you stared, the more you realized—he wasn’t fully there. his eyelids fluttered, his gaze distant, but somehow still focused on you.

he let out another low groan, his voice raspy as he mumbled, “this feels… good…” his words were slurred, heavy with sleep and alcohol, but the raw honesty in them sent a shiver down your spine.

his hand brushed lightly against your side, his fingers grazing your waist, and another soft groan escaped him as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. he nuzzled against you like he was sinking deeper into a dream, his body responding to yours without any awareness of the chaos he was causing.

his breathing grew more ragged, and his grip on you tightened, like he was afraid you’d slip away. “no… you can’t leave…” he muttered, his voice shaky and filled with a desperation that made your heart pound. “you’re not real… it’s a dream… just a dream…”

the conviction in his voice was clear—he thought this was all a dream. he was convinced that none of this was real, that you weren’t really there, that everything was part of some fantasy his drunken mind had created. a pretty girl in his bed, your warmth against his body, your scent filling his senses—it was too perfect for him to believe it was real.

heeseung inhaled deeply, as if trying to memorize the way you smelled. “wow…” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending another shiver down your spine as your back arched involuntarily. “no… don’t go.”

his grip on you tightened, becoming more possessive, as if holding onto you would keep the dream from slipping away. his fingers, trembling slightly now, traced the side of your waist, slipping under your top. his touch was tentative, almost like he was confirming that you were still there, that this dream of his hadn’t disappeared.

and with each touch, your body reacted, your stomach clenching, your thighs pressing together as you felt yourself getting wetter by the second. his fingers danced across your skin, soft and slow, and you could barely breathe.

heeseung’s desperation grew with each passing second, his movements more deliberate, needier, as his lips pressed warm, clumsy kisses along your neck. each kiss sent jolts of electricity through your body, and despite the alarm bells blaring in your mind, you felt yourself relaxing into his touch. god, you couldn’t help it.

there was an unexpected tenderness in the way his lips moved against your skin, a slow, deliberate trail that made your heart race, pounding so hard it almost hurt. part of you knew you should stop this, pull away before it went any further. but then heeseung groaned softly, his lips pressing a little harder as he bit down gently on your neck, and the last of your resistance melted away.

you were drunk too, the alcohol lowering your inhibitions, making your body react without thinking. every kiss, every touch, left your skin tingling, and you let out a shaky breath, barely able to hold back the moan that slipped from your lips. instinctively, you tilted your head back, giving him more access as your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, your mind lost in the moment.

but then you felt him shifting, his hands fumbling as he slowly tugged down his pants, and panic sliced through the fog in your mind. heeseung, wait, you thought, but your voice came out shaky. “this isn’t a dream,” you whispered, but it was like he didn’t hear you—or worse, he didn’t believe it.

he let out a low, frustrated groan, shaking his head. “no… you’re not getting away this time,” he mumbled, his words thick with need. “just… let me put it in. please.” his voice was so desperate, filled with a longing that made your heart twist in your chest. it was like he had begged for this in his dreams, over and over again.

the sound of his cock slapping against his stomach was unmistakable, and your mind reeled as you heard him whine, “i’m so horny,” his tone almost childlike in its frustration, like he couldn’t handle being denied any longer. his hand wrapped around his length, and you could feel the heat radiating off him as he positioned himself, dangerously close to you.

the air between you felt thick, heavy with tension. he shifted again, and then he asked, almost too dejectedly, “do you really not wanna do it?” the way his voice cracked slightly, the vulnerability in his tone, made your stomach churn with guilt. god, yes, you thought. you do want this. but he was drunk, confused, and he had no idea what he was doing.

before you could find the words to say anything, you felt him. the tip of his cock brushed against your damp, clothed core, and you let out a shaky gasp. “please,” he whispered, not giving you a chance to speak, his voice laced with desperation.

oh fuck it.

before you even realized it, your body was moving on its own, pulling him closer, your hands reaching behind to grip his waist and press him against you. the desperation in his voice, the raw need in his movements—it was contagious, wrapping around you like a fever, and any trace of rational thought disappeared.

heeseung groaned softly, his breath hot against your neck as his hips moved more frantically, grinding against you with a helpless urgency. his cock, hard and throbbing, dragged along your clothed pussy, sending shivers up your spine with every slow, torturous movement. you could feel every pulse, every inch of him pressed so close, teasing you.

his tip grazed the entrance of your pussy, the friction lighting up your body, making you gasp. “fuck,” you whispered, your hips rolling against his, your body responding to his every move. each drag of his cock against you only made you wetter, the thin fabric of your underwear soaked from the tension building between you.

heeseung’s breath came in heavy pants, his head resting against your shoulder as he let out a soft whine. it was like he couldn’t get enough of you, his body chasing the friction, the need to be closer, to feel more. “mhmm… yes, god yes,” he muttered, his voice thick and broken, filled with raw need.

any hesitation you had melted away, consumed by the heat of the moment. all that mattered now was this—the way heeseung’s body was pressed against yours, his hands gripping your waist like he was holding on for dear life, his cock rubbing against you with a desperate intensity.

“please,” he whined again, his voice trembling, thick with need. his hips stuttered against yours, the friction driving him wild as he ground into you, chasing that feeling that seemed just out of reach. “just… let me… just a little more…”

his lips brushed against your ear, his voice barely a whisper, shaking with desperation. “just the tip? please?”

the way he spoke, his voice filled with such need, sent a shiver down your spine. you could feel him, pressing against the entrance of your pussy, his cock straining, desperate for just a little more.

every nerve in your body lit up in response, your skin tingling with anticipation. you knew you shouldn’t cross this line, knew it was wrong, but the way heeseung begged—how could you say no?

just the tip, he had said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. and fuck, you wanted it. more than anything in that moment, your body was screaming for it.

your breath came out shaky as you considered it, your hips tilting up ever so slightly, pressing against him. you wiggled your hips, testing the waters, wanting to see how he’d react.

heeseung gasped, his body trembling against yours as you teased him. his reaction was immediate, a soft, needy groan slipping past his lips. “please… stop teasing,” he murmured, his voice husky, desperate. “let me feel your pussy…”

the nerves that had been creeping up on you only made the moment more intense. your hands trembled slightly as you slowly lifted your skirt, the fabric bunching around your waist. each movement was heavy with anticipation, your breath hitching as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugged them down, shakily. the cool air hit your skin, and the awareness of how wet and ready you were for him made your head spin.

you weren’t a virgin, but god, the intensity of this moment made you feel like you were crossing some new, dangerous line—and you loved it.

heeseung propped himself up on his elbow, his eyes locking onto yours as his hands gently cupped your cheeks, pulling you closer. the desperation in his gaze was undeniable—he needed to see you, to watch every flicker of emotion cross your face as the intensity of the moment built between you. his breath came out in shaky pants, his gaze half-lidded, filled with hunger and disbelief.

“please…” he whispered, his voice raw and filled with awe as he leaned in, his hands sliding down your body to grip your thigh, pulling it up toward your chest. the closeness, the need between you two, had your heart racing, matching his shallow, ragged breaths.

his eyes darkened with need as he released his cock, painfully hard, guiding it toward your exposed entrance. “just the tip,” he repeated, his voice trembling with desperation, like he was trying to convince both of you to believe it was enough. his hands shook slightly as he held your thigh in place, steadying himself as the head of his cock brushed against your wet, sensitive entrance.

the warmth of him teased your slick folds, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. despite the nervous flutter in your stomach, there was no turning back. heeseung let out a soft, needy groan as he slowly pushed the tip inside, the stretch immediate. your pussy tightened around him, the sensation overwhelming, and you gasped, your body instinctively responding to the pleasure of him barely entering you.

as he eased the tip in further, heeseung grunted, his breath hitching in his throat as your tightness enveloped him. the warmth, the snug grip of your body around him—he hadn’t expected it to feel this good. not like this. his jaw went slack, a low, breathless moan escaping his lips as his head tilted back, his eyes squeezing shut in pure bliss.

heeseung trembled, overwhelmed by how easily he slid inside, the pleasure shooting through his body like fire. “fuck,” he rasped, his hands gripping your thigh tighter as he tried to hold himself back, his body shaking with the effort. but the feeling of you wrapped around him, even with just the tip, was driving him insane.

“ohhh yes…” he groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as though you were his lifeline. his body trembled as he fought to maintain control, the promise of “just the tip” quickly slipping from his mind. you could feel his desperation in the way he shook, the tension in his muscles as he struggled to keep his word. but the way your body clenched around him, how tight and wet you were, made it nearly impossible for him to stop.

heeseung’s head lolled forward, his eyes glazed with lust as he gazed down at you, panting heavily. “so… fucking tight,” he muttered, his voice trembling, barely able to form the words as the pleasure overwhelmed him. his cock throbbed inside you, each pulse sending a wave of pleasure through both of you, his body clearly begging for more, desperate to push deeper, to give in to the need that was consuming him.

he was trying so hard, his breath shaky and shallow as he struggled to hold back. the slick between your legs coated his cock, making every movement feel so much more intense. “wow, you’re so wet,” he whispered, his voice quivering with awe and raw need. there was a frantic edge to his words, like he couldn’t believe what was happening, but he also couldn’t stop himself from craving more. his body shook with restraint, but the desperation spilling from his lips betrayed him.

“please… it feels so good,” he whimpered, his hips stuttering as he slid the tip in and out, teasing both of you. the sound of his cock moving against you, the slickness of your arousal, only made you both want more. every time he pulled back, the sensation left you aching, desperate for him to push further.

“can i… just a little more?” heeseung begged, his voice cracking as he gently pushed the head of his cock in again, only to pull it back out with trembling restraint. “your voice, your wet pussy… fuck… i can’t hold back,” he mumbled, his words coming out in shaky, breathless pants.

heeseung’s fingers dug into your skin, holding on for dear life as he fought the overwhelming urge to push deeper. you could see it in his eyes, the battle he was losing, the way his body was shaking, desperate to feel more of you.

despite how much you wanted it too, you found the strength to shake your head. “no,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, trying to hold on to some control in the situation. you couldn’t let this go any further.

heeseung let out a soft, defeated whine, his head dropping in frustration as he continued to thrust the tip of his cock in and out, his body visibly trembling from the effort of holding back. “okay… okay… 'm sorry, just the tip,” he repeated, his voice filled with both submission and longing, his hips grinding slightly against you despite his promise. he was trying so hard, you could see it in the way his muscles tensed, his hands gripping your hips as though they were the only thing grounding him. “i’ll be good, i’m trying not to put it all in, i promise… just the tip,” he mumbled again, like he was convincing himself just as much as he was you. his hips jerked forward in short, erratic bursts, trying to keep the sensation alive without pushing deeper. every tiny movement made him shudder, his breath catching with every second that passed.

“f-fuck…” heeseung stuttered, his inexperience painfully clear in every shaky breath, every clumsy but eager movement. he was overwhelmed. completely lost in the sensation of your pussy, barely able to comprehend the pleasure that had him teetering on the edge.

“holy fuck… it's—” his voice cracked as his hips jerked forward again, the tiny thrusts barely giving him relief, yet still too much for him to handle. his hands clutched your hips tighter, his body trembling as he struggled to maintain control, but the way you squeezed around him, how tight you felt, made him shudder.

you could feel his desperation in every sloppy, uncoordinated thrust. his lips parted, little gasps and whimpers escaping every time he pushed just barely inside you, the sensation clearly overwhelming him. he was fucking adorable, the way he whined, the way his voice broke with every breath, the way his whole body trembled in need.

“you’re s-squeezing me,” he stuttered, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, his breath hot and shaky against your skin, making everything feel that much more intense. you couldn’t help it—your hips began moving on their own, rolling into him, meeting his small, desperate thrusts. your fingers dug into the sheets, and you gave in, pushing back against him, taking his cock bit by bit, your body responding to his in a way that made you crave more.

“shit,” heeseung whimpered, his voice breathless, on the verge of losing control. “oh god, i’m actually inside you… i-i…” his confession was innocent, almost vulnerable, and it sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through your body, turning you on even more.

“yes, that feels so good…” you whispered shakily, your words heavy with pleasure. it did feel good, despite his inexperience, despite his trembling hands and ragged breath. he was making you feel so fucking good, and it was impossible to deny it.

you moaned louder, your hips rocking back against him, each thrust from him fueling your own need. he was desperate, but so were you.

as you took him deeper inside you, you both gasped in unison. the stretch of him filling you was intense—he was bigger than you expected, and the way he fit inside you, stretching you so perfectly, made you cry out. your hips picked up the pace, sliding up and down his cock with an eager, desperate rhythm. the need to feel him deeper, harder, consumed you.

“fuck, heeseung, you’re stretching me so good,” you gasped, your voice dripping with lust. your walls clenched around him, wet and tight, and each time he responded with a breathless hitch, his whole body trembling beneath you.

“i can’t…” he whimpered, his voice cracking, overwhelmed by the sensation. his hands gripped your hips, trying to steady himself, but he was just as lost in the moment as you were.

his jaw hung slack, his eyes fluttering shut as he whimpered softly, his hands gripping your hips even tighter. he was struggling, unable to keep up with the rhythm you set, his movements sloppy and unfocused. you could feel it—he was on the verge of losing control.

then, it happened—a loud, choked sound escaped him, followed by a shudder that rocked his entire body. his breath caught in his throat, his jaw clenching as a deep, desperate moan tore from his lips. “oh—oh fuck, agh!” he gasped, his voice cracking as he shook beneath you.

before you could fully register what was happening, you felt it—the sudden warmth flooding inside you as he came, hard. his hips jerked wildly, his cock twitching uncontrollably as he spilled into you, his entire body trembling with the force of his orgasm. he tried to hold back, tried to last longer, but it was too much—he was too inexperienced, too caught up in the moment to stop himself.

“oh shit, no,” heeseung whined, his voice barely audible, his hands clutching your waist as he struggled to catch his breath. his eyes were squeezed shut in a mix of embarrassment and lingering pleasure, his face flushed as his chest heaved from the intensity of his release. you could feel his frustration radiating off him as he came down from his high, clearly upset with himself for losing control so quickly.

heeseung’s eyes fluttered open briefly, his gaze hazy and dazed, looking up at you with a mix of shame and apology. “i’m… i’m so sorry,” he mumbled, his voice weak and slurred, struggling to get the words out. “i couldn’t hold it in…” regret washed over his face, his brow furrowing in disappointment as his body sagged beneath you, the exhaustion from the night quickly taking over.

“m’ sorry…” he slurred one last time, his voice barely a whisper before his head lolled back against the pillow, completely spent. his grip on your waist loosened, his hands falling away as his body succumbed to sleep, leaving you on top of him, alone with your thoughts. his chest rose and fell steadily, his breath evening out as he drifted into a deep, drunken slumber, completely unaware of the turmoil swirling inside you.

you sat there for a moment, still processing everything that had just happened. your body still buzzed with the warmth of desire, but it was unfulfilled, leaving you aching with a strange mix of emotions. even so, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you looked down at heeseung, now passed out beneath you, his face soft and peaceful in the dim light.

oh, heeseung, you thought, shaking your head softly, letting out a quiet sigh.

as you caught your breath, you took in the sight of him—his face completely relaxed, the tension from earlier gone, leaving him looking innocent, almost angelic. you like him so much. the way he had been so desperate, so shy and eager to please—it made your heart swell with affection, despite the mess of the situation.

but then reality hit you like a cold splash of water. shit, he really came inside me. panic bubbled up for a moment, but it quickly faded as you remembered—you’re on birth control. everything was safe, and relief washed over you. thank god for that, you thought, running a hand through your hair as you tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions.

you glanced back down at him, his face still slack, peaceful, completely unaware of the chaos he had just been part of. what a night. you couldn’t help but chuckle softly to yourself, the absurdity of it all settling in.

but as much as that warmth lingered, as much as you liked heeseung, the weight of the situation started to press down on you. things are complicated now. really complicated. the intensity and desire of the night didn’t erase the fact that it had been a mess from the start.

sure, he was home now, safe in his bed, and that was the least of your concerns. if you left, he’d be fine, but the thought of facing him in the morning, with both of you piecing together the night’s events, made you feel uneasy. no, you couldn’t stay. leaving seemed like the best option, for both of you. it was better to avoid the awkwardness and confusion that would come when the alcohol wore off, leaving only the raw reality behind.

quietly, you moved around the room, making sure he was tucked in comfortably. you adjusted the blanket over him with care, your fingers brushing lightly against his skin as you pulled the covers up to his chest. as you stood there, looking down at his sleeping face—peaceful and completely unaware of everything—despite the chaos of the night, it had been special.

messy, chaotic, and complicated, but in its own strange way, one of the best nights you’d ever had.

you leaned down slightly, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead, whispering, “thank you,” even though he couldn’t hear you. heeseung remained still, breathing deeply, lost in whatever dreams his drunken mind had drifted to.

with one last lingering look, you quietly slipped out of his room, closing the door softly behind you. it was time to go.

as you made your way out of his house, your mind raced, replaying everything that had just happened. how did it even get to this point? just hours ago, you had been at that party—drinking, laughing, watching heeseung from across the room like you always did, quietly from the sidelines. everything seemed so normal then. and yet, somehow, the night had spiraled into something else entirely. the walk home, guiding his stumbling, drunk self, making sure he didn’t end up passed out on the sidewalk somewhere. you had seen his room, tucked him into bed, made sure he was safe. how did it escalate from that to…

you stopped in your tracks, eyes widening as a sudden realization hit you like a punch to the gut. fuck, he probably doesn’t even know your name. you never mentioned it, and he was too drunk to ask. not once did heeseung stop to question how you knew his name, or why you were even with him. the entire night had unfolded in a blur of concern, awkwardness, and then passion, but through it all, not once had you introduced yourself.

the more you thought about it, the more absurd the whole thing seemed. it wasn’t just some drunken mistake—it was more than that. you’d shared something with him, even if it was messy, rushed, and impulsive. something had happened between the two of you, something raw and unexpected.

but maybe… maybe it didn’t need to mean anything. maybe it was okay for it to just be what it was—a fleeting moment, chaotic and imperfect, but still somehow… perfect in its own strange way.

as you walked down the quiet street, the cool night air filling your lungs, you felt your head begin to clear. the more you thought about it, the more you realized you were content. you didn’t need heeseung to remember every detail, or even remember your name. it didn’t matter if he never asked who you were, or if he didn’t wake up in the morning knowing what had happened between the two of you.

it was enough that it happened at all.

heeseung, with all his shyness and awkwardness, had let you in. he had been vulnerable with you—drunk as he was, yes, but still, he’d let his guard down in a way that felt meaningful to you. even if he didn’t remember, even if it never came up again, you would still have this night to hold onto.

a soft sigh escaped your lips as a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. it didn’t need to be more than that. you didn’t need answers, or closure, or some kind of follow-up. this night had been unexpected, but it was yours now—yours to keep, to remember, to cherish in your own way.

for the first time since the night began, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. it didn’t need to be perfect. it didn’t need to be anything at all, really. what mattered was that it had happened, and that, in its own way, it had been exactly what you needed.

and as you walked away, disappearing into the night, you felt lighter, more content. this moment, chaotic and impulsive as it was, belonged to you now, and that was enough.

heeseung groaned, his head pounding like someone was hammering nails into his skull. every throb behind his eyes made him wince, the hangover hitting him like a truck. he shifted under the covers, pulling the blanket over his face to block out the harsh light cutting through the room. his throat felt like sandpaper, mouth tasting like something had died in it. he blinked, trying to shake off the fog clinging to his brain. what the hell happened last night?

“wasn’t i at jay’s?” he muttered, squeezing his temples, trying to force some clarity through the pounding headache.

he pushed himself up slowly, blinking through the haze, but panic already began settling in his chest. his clothes were a mess—pants barely hanging on, his boxers sticky with dried cum. wait… what the fuck? his brows knitted together, confusion swirling in his mind. this wasn’t just the aftermath of a wet dream. something felt different. the smell in the room… it was strong, musky. sex. it had to be. but it wasn’t just his usual scent. this was unfamiliar, unsettling even.

he sat up fully, heart pounding as he scrambled to piece together what had happened. did i have some crazy dream? shit, i can’t remember. he tried to shake it off, telling himself he was probably just being paranoid. maybe jay brought me home, and i’m overthinking it.

but the thought didn’t sit right. jay wouldn’t drag my ass home like that, he thought, especially not when he was wasted. no, something else was off. that’s when it hit him—the scent. he inhaled cautiously, slow and deliberate. was that… vanilla? it was faint but clung to the air around him, something soft, delicate, feminine. his chest tightened with unease.

how the hell would a woman’s scent be here? he thought, his pulse quickening. there’s no way. i don’t have that kind of luck. if something did happen, she probably left the second she realized what a fuck-up he was.

“what the hell?” he mumbled, throwing himself back onto the bed, frustration spiking. nothing was adding up, no matter how hard he tried to piece it together. every time he reached for a memory, it slipped away, like water through his fingers. but the scent lingered. it was like a soft whisper of something that had happened, something real, something he couldn’t quite grasp.

and he liked it. god, as confusing as it was, that scent—it was comforting, like a warm hug wrapped around him.

he shook his head, deciding to push the thoughts away. maybe jay—or someone else—brought me home, he reasoned, and the rest was just a weird, jumbled mess in my head. yeah, that had to be it. he rubbed his temples in a futile attempt to ease the pounding in his skull, letting out a long sigh.

he flopped back onto the pillows, pulling the blanket up to his chin, his eyes fluttering shut as he tried to block out the chaos in his mind. whatever it was… it didn’t matter. if something had happened, he couldn’t remember it now. and maybe that was for the best.

he took one last breath, the faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air around him, and allowed himself to drift back into the haze of sleep, convincing himself that when he woke up, everything would make sense again.

heeseung dragged himself across campus, head still pounding from the aftermath of last night, a heavy knot twisting in his stomach as he neared jay. this is gonna be rough, he thought, each step feeling heavier as he approached. jay stood by the wall, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in anger—still pissed, and heeseung knew there was no easy way around it.

“yo, jay,” heeseung started, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding jay’s glare. “did you take me home last night? 'cause, uh, I honestly don’t remember shit after you… well, after you kicked me out.”

jay’s glare deepened, and the irritation practically radiated off him. “nah, man, i didn’t take you home. why the hell would i after you fucking ruined my shot with her? figured you’d just pass out in the living room or something. i wasn’t about to deal with your drunk ass.”

heeseung’s stomach churned. fuck, guilt weighing down on him even more. he had hoped maybe jay had cooled off, but hearing it so bluntly only made it worse. “look, man, i’m sorry,” heeseung muttered, his shoulders slumping. “i was wasted. i didn’t mean to bring her up like that. shit just slipped out.”

jay’s eyes rolled, sharp as a blade. “yeah, well, you didn’t just bring her up, heeseung. you made it sound like i was screwing around with other girls or some shit. like, seriously? i finally got the confidence to talk to her after losing my virginity, and you just shit all over it.”

heeseung winced, feeling the weight of his own stupidity. “fuck, dude. i didn’t mean to screw it up for you. i’m really sorry.”

jay sighed, the tension still there, but starting to thaw. they’d been friends too long for one drunken mistake to completely shatter things. deep down, jay knew heeseung wasn’t trying to sabotage anything—he was just a dumbass when he drank too much.

“yeah, well, next time, don’t be such a fucking idiot,” jay muttered, though his tone had softened. “you shouldn’t even be getting that drunk and saying stupid shit like that. just… keep your mouth shut next time, alright?”

heeseung chuckled, feeling some of the tension ease between them. “yeah, yeah, I got it. i owe you for this one.”

jay’s lips twitched into a smirk, his irritation fading. “damn right you do.”

heeseung exhaled, relieved. they were good again—thank god. no matter how much of a mess he was, jay wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. not for long, anyway.

later that day, during class, heeseung couldn’t get his mind off the night before. his memories were patchy, but nagging fragments kept resurfacing—the scent of something soft and feminine, the way he’d felt when he woke up. none of it added up. the more he tried to piece things together, the more his head spun.

sitting in the back of the lecture hall, he leaned over to jay, keeping his voice low. “hey, do you, uh… know if i was with anyone last night?” he tried to sound casual, but the shakiness in his voice gave him away.

jay raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “what, like, with a girl?”

heeseung shrugged awkwardly. “yeah, or like… did anyone leave with me? i can’t remember shit.”

jay snorted. “dude, after you started running your mouth about jennie, i stopped keeping track of whatever the hell you were doing.”

heeseung frowned, feeling even more confused. if it wasn’t jay, and no one saw me leave… who the hell got me home?

jay glanced at him again, picking up on the unease written all over heeseung’s face. “why, man? you get lucky or something?” he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

heeseung felt heat creep up his neck, shaking his head quickly. “no, no, it’s not like that. just… never mind,” he muttered, sinking back into his seat.

jay gave him a curious look but didn’t push it, turning his attention back to the lecture. but heeseung’s mind wasn’t on the professor—it was still stuck on the unanswered questions swirling in his head. who brought me home? and… what else happened that I can’t remember?

he leaned back in his seat, frustration gnawing at him. why the fuck does this scent keep haunting me?

by lunchtime, jay and heeseung sat at their usual spot in the cafeteria, but something felt off. heeseung dropped his tray beside jay’s and sat down, glancing at him. jay wasn’t his usual self—the cocky smirk was gone, replaced by a frown as he stared at his phone, scrolling through pictures of his crush. the same girl heeseung had messed things up with the night before.

“damn, man,” heeseung muttered, feeling the weight of guilt settle heavy in his chest. “you still upset?”

jay didn’t look up, his frown deepening as he swiped through the photos with more force than necessary. “what do you think?” he muttered, barely acknowledging heeseung’s presence.

heeseung sighed, poking at the food on his plate, knowing he’d screwed up bad. “look, i said i was sorry,” he offered, hoping it might ease the tension.

jay finally looked up, irritation clear on his face, though it wasn’t the kind of anger that led to a fight. “yeah, i know. but you don’t get it, man.”

heeseung nodded, knowing full well how deep jay’s frustration ran. he’d watched his friend build up the courage to approach his crush for months, and heeseung had been the one to ruin it all in one drunken moment. “i do get it,” he said quietly. “i’d be pissed too.”

jay sighed, tapping his fingers against the table in frustration, the weight of the whole situation pressing down on him. he wasn’t angry anymore, just… defeated. heeseung could see it in the way jay was starting to give up on his crush, all because of one dumb mistake.

“honestly, i don’t even know why i’m still thinking about it,” jay muttered, shaking his head. “she’s probably telling all her friends i’m some creep now. what’s the point?”

heeseung winced, guilt gnawing at him. “you don’t know that, man. maybe if you explain, she’ll listen.”

jay let out a small scoff, though it didn’t have the usual bite behind it. “i bet she’s already told hanna i’m a complete joke.”

the silence between them stretched uncomfortably. heeseung didn’t know how to fix this, didn’t know what to say to make things right. jay sighed again, finally setting his phone down on the table, poking at his food without much interest. the sharp tension had dulled, but it was still there, hanging between them like a shadow.

“look,” heeseung said, his voice softer, “if there’s anything i can do to make it right, just tell me. i know i screwed up, but maybe if you talk to her—”

jay shook his head, cutting him off. “nah, dude. you know me.” he paused, his jaw tight, clearly holding back more than he was saying.

heeseung leaned back against the bench, feeling the weight of jay’s frustration sinking deeper. it wasn’t just about the girl—jay felt exposed, vulnerable, and that’s what hurt the most.

“sorry, man,” heeseung muttered, his voice thick with regret. “i didn’t realize how much it meant to you.”

jay dragged a hand through his hair, sighing again. “it’s whatever now. i’m done trying. you’re my friend, heeseung, but this whole thing just makes me feel like a complete idiot.”

heeseung’s chest tightened at jay’s words. “you’re not an idiot.”

jay shrugged, pushing his food around the plate like it didn’t matter. “i don’t know, man. now i have to live with the fact that she’s probably never gonna talk to me again. it just sucks.”

he looked over at heeseung, his expression softening a little, the frustration giving way to exhaustion. “i’m not holding it against you, heeseung. we’re good. i’m just… over it.”

heeseung felt a small weight lift off his shoulders, but he still nodded, feeling like he owed jay more than just an apology. “i get it. if you ever wanna hang out, no games or anything, just let me know.”

jay gave him a tired smile. “yeah, thanks, man.”

they sat there for a moment, the silence more comfortable now, settling into that familiar rhythm between them. heeseung was just about to take a sip of his drink when the cafeteria doors swung open, and professor kang strode in, making a direct beeline toward their table.

heeseung glanced at jay, both of them confused as to why their professor was heading straight for them.

heeseung didn’t need to see professor kang’s face to know he was screwed. the sharp, predatory gaze the professor wore as he strode toward their table sent a chill down his spine. heeseung and jay exchanged a look—shit, what now?��but neither dared to move.

“lee heeseung,” professor kang’s voice boomed across the cafeteria, slicing through the chatter. heads turned, eyes locking onto him as the weight of curiosity and judgment settled over the room. beside him, jay stifled a laugh, leaning over with a smirk. “good luck, man,” he whispered, like heeseung was about to face a firing squad.

kang’s stride was too confident, too smug for heeseung’s liking, and his expression all but screamed that this wasn’t going to end well.

“oh no,” heeseung muttered under his breath, dread creeping in.

professor kang stopped in front of their table, crossing his arms, his glare cutting through heeseung like a knife. “heeseung, your grades…” he trailed off, raising a brow. “let’s just say they’ve been less than satisfactory.”

heeseung swallowed hard, resisting the urge to fidget under the professor’s piercing gaze. “i… uh… i’ve been working on it,” he stammered, knowing damn well he hadn’t even opened a textbook.

kang chuckled humorlessly. “working on it? from what i’ve seen, you’ve been avoiding it like the plague. and you know what that means.” his eyes flicked to jay, who had stopped laughing and was now watching intently, clearly enjoying heeseung’s impending doom.

heeseung’s stomach dropped. this is bad.

“starting tomorrow,” kang continued, his voice dripping with satisfaction, “you’re going to have a tutor.”

heeseung blinked, thrown off. “a tutor?”

kang nodded, his smirk deepening. “yes, a tutor. and not just any tutor—one of my best students.”

jay couldn’t hold back his laughter this time, snorting and covering his mouth. “good luck with that, man.”

heeseung felt like the universe was playing some kind of sick joke on him. a tutor? really? he could barely hold a normal conversation without stumbling over his words, and now he was supposed to sit through tutoring sessions with some overachiever? fantastic.

“wait—uh, professor…” heeseung stammered, trying to think of an excuse. “i think i can handle this on my own. really, i don’t need—"

kang wasn’t having it. “it’s not up for debate, heeseung. i’ve already spoken to your parents. they’re expecting results.” his gaze shifted back to jay with a smirk. “if you think you can dodge this like you and jay do with your other responsibilities, think again.”

heeseung’s heart sank. he told my parents? fuck, now he was really screwed.

as if things couldn’t get worse, kang reached into his pocket and pulled out a list. heeseung’s stomach churned.

“let’s review the subjects you’re failing, shall we?” kang’s voice rang out, drawing even more attention. heeseung’s face flushed as heads turned, the whispers starting to spread like wildfire.

“math, history, science… and english,” kang listed, each word hitting like a punch to the gut.

jay was losing it beside him, laughing uncontrollably. “dude, that’s like… everything.”

kang wasn’t finished. “and let’s not forget economics. thirty-two percent on your last quiz. truly impressive.”

the cafeteria buzzed with whispers, and heeseung could feel every pair of eyes on him now, judging, mocking. he wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

“look, professor,” heeseung started, his voice edging into panic. “i know my grades are bad, but i don’t need—”

kang raised a hand, silencing him. “you’ll be working with y/n. starting tomorrow.”

heeseung blinked, confused. “who… who even is y/n?”

jay leaned in, grinning from ear to ear. “only the top student in every class, dude. you’re so fucked.”

kang nodded, clearly enjoying himself. “y/n is the best. if anyone can get you back on track, it’s her.”

heeseung’s heart raced, and in a desperate plea, the words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them. “wait, professor, can’t you pick someone else? anyone else? please?”

kang raised a brow, his amusement barely hidden. “why? do you have an issue with y/n?”

heeseung rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the heat rise to his face. the thought of being tutored by someone so smart, someone who would probably think he was a complete idiot, made his skin crawl. and the fact that it’s a girl? great, just great. “it’s just… i don’t even know her. maybe a guy would be better?”

jay burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. “oh man, this is priceless. you’re doomed.”

kang wasn’t budging. “there’s no one better than y/n. i’ve already made arrangements, and she’s agreed. besides, your parents are fully on board.”

heeseung’s face fell. there’s no getting out of this. “professor, please. i’m begging you.”

kang’s eyes narrowed, his tone final. “this isn’t up for discussion. y/n will be tutoring you at your house, every day after school. and if you even think about bailing, your parents will be notified, and the consequences will be much worse than just bad grades.”

the cafeteria had gone dead quiet, more students now eavesdropping on the conversation. jay, meanwhile, was practically shaking with laughter, enjoying every second.

“fuck,” heeseung muttered, slumping in his seat, defeated. “i’m done for.” kang gave him one last satisfied look before walking away, leaving heeseung to wallow in misery. jay slapped him on the back, still grinning like an idiot. “bro, this is gonna be hilarious. y/n tutoring you, at your house? i’m showing up just to watch you crash and burn.”

heeseung groaned, burying his face in his hands. “this is a fucking nightmare. i’m gonna make a complete fool of myself.”

jay leaned in, his grin widening. “oh, trust me. i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

heeseung stared blankly ahead, his mind trying to process what had just happened. tutoring, with y/n, at my house, every day. there was no escape.

“i am so fucked.”

heeseung slammed the stall door shut, leaning his back against it, trying to catch his breath. how the hell am i supposed to survive this? tutoring with some girl he didn’t even know? he rubbed his face, feeling the tension building behind his temples. he can barely talk to girls without turning into a stuttering idiot, and now he has to deal with this?

just skip it, heeseung, a voice in his head whispered. who’s gonna care if you bail?

but he knew he couldn’t. professor kang and his parents had him on lockdown—there was no running from this now. fuck.

he checked his phone, tapping his foot impatiently. jay was supposed to meet him after class, their usual spot in the restrooms to decompress and talk shit, but jay was nowhere to be found.

“where the hell is he?” heeseung grumbled, dialing jay’s number.

the phone barely rang twice before jay picked up, his voice low and irritated. “yeah?”

“dude, what the hell? you ditched class without telling me? we could’ve bailed together,” heeseung snapped, his frustration boiling over.

jay sighed heavily on the other end. “i didn’t wanna hang out. just need space.”

“yeah, well, next time, fucking tell me,” heeseung barked, the edge of anger creeping into his voice. “you’re being weird as shit lately.”

there was a tense silence. jay’s irritation bled through the phone. “i’m fine,” he snapped back. “i just need space.”

before heeseung could say anything else, jay hung up, leaving him standing there, staring at his phone like an idiot. great. fucking great.

he stuffed his phone back into his pocket, frustration bubbling inside him. “fuck,” he muttered, running his hands through his messy hair. jay bailing is the last thing he needed.

he stepped in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. he looked like hell—dark bags under his eyes, his hair a wreck, and he felt like the world was crashing down around him. i can’t deal with this shit right now.

heeseung grunted, pulling out his phone again to type a text to jay: call me when you’re done being a moody bitch.

just as he was about to hit send, someone crashed into him, hard. his phone slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor as he stumbled back.

“shit,” he cursed, quickly bending down to scoop up his phone. he looked up, ready to give whoever it was a piece of his mind, when his gaze landed on you.

you stood there, wide-eyed and disoriented, about to apologize when your stomach dropped. oh fuck. it’s him.

lee heeseung—the guy you’d been secretly crushing on for months. the same guy you’d kind of hooked up with. and now, the guy you were supposed to tutor. what are the fucking odds?

your mind raced, panic rising in your chest. of all the people to run into, why did it have to be him?

“uh… s-sorry,” heeseung stammered, his eyes flicking toward yours before quickly darting away, clearly flustered. “i didn’t see you.”

your heart pounded in your chest, your mind spiraling. just moments ago, you had found out you were assigned to tutor him. heeseung. the same guy who had begged for you, desperate and needy, finishing way too fast. yet, somehow, it was one of the most intense moments you’d had.

and now, he didn’t even remember.

“uh, it’s fine,” you mumbled, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tension tightening your stomach. get it together. he doesn’t remember. just act normal.

you forced a smile, your mind buzzing with the memory of how his body had felt against yours, the heat between you, the way he’d gripped you like he couldn’t get enough. stop thinking about it.

as you opened your mouth to say something—anything—his scent hit you. that familiar scent. your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your cheeks burn. shit, not now.

heeseung’s brow furrowed as something flickered in his eyes, like he was trying to place a memory. the scent tugged at his mind, but he couldn’t quite figure it out.

“i—i’m y/n,” you stammered, your nerves tightening your throat. “i’m, uh, your tutor.”

heeseung blinked, the words sinking in. y/n? the girl professor kang mentioned? the best student in every class. fuck.

“oh, uh, y/n,” he mumbled, feeling dumb as hell. “right. i’m heeseung.”

as if i didn’t already know that. you let out a small breath of relief, grateful that he wasn’t connecting the dots. thank god.

“nice to meet you,” you managed to say, even though your heart was racing like a runaway train.

heeseung nodded awkwardly, his thoughts spinning. the scent still tugged at something in the back of his mind, but he pushed it aside. no way. you seemed too… well, smart and collected. and cute. he felt his face flush as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“uh, yeah, nice to meet you too,” he muttered, his brain still whirling, trying to figure out why you seemed so familiar. but for now, he let it go.

the awkwardness between you was thick, both of you standing there like you were stuck in some weird limbo.

“so, i guess i’ll see you tomorrow for tutoring?” you asked, desperate to escape the tension.

heeseung scratched the back of his head, feeling just as awkward. “yeah, sounds good.” i sound like a fucking robot. he glanced down at his shoes, mentally kicking himself for how weird this was.

“okay, cool,” you mumbled, your voice cracking slightly. why am i like this?

heeseung nodded again, gripping his phone so tight it was a miracle it didn’t break. “looking forward to it,” he said, immediately regretting how stiff and formal it sounded. who the hell says that?

you swallowed the embarrassment, shifting from foot to foot, trying to appear casual when everything inside you screamed awkward. “so, um… what subject do you wanna start with tomorrow?”

heeseung paused, like he was mentally sifting through his options, before blurting out, “uh… history? i suck at that.” he let out a nervous laugh that sounded more like a wheeze than anything else.

you forced a small smile, unsure if you were supposed to laugh too or just nod. “history it is.”

the silence that followed felt like it lasted an eternity. neither of you knew how to end the conversation without making things worse, both awkwardly standing there, too self-conscious to make a move.

“i… should go,” you finally said, pointing toward the bathroom door like it was the most obvious thing in the world. you winced immediately, what the hell was that?

“right!” heeseung blurted, his response way too eager. “you probably have to pee. bathroom. makes sense.”

you cringed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “yeah, i’m about to burst,” you muttered, the words spilling out before you could stop them. oh god. without waiting for him to respond, you darted into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you as fast as possible.

heeseung stood there, dumbfounded, replaying the conversation in his head. what the fuck did i just say? he muttered, dragging a hand through his messy hair in frustration.

inside the bathroom, you leaned against the wall, pressing your palms to your face, trying to calm your racing heart. i’m about to burst? seriously? the embarrassment washed over you in waves as you replayed the entire cringeworthy conversation in your head.

tutoring tomorrow, you reminded yourself, taking a deep breath. just get through that, and everything will be fine. he doesn’t remember… right?

heeseung muttered curses under his breath as he shoved his things haphazardly into his bag. there was no way he was staying at school, letting the anxiety about tutoring with you eat at him all day. he’d rather face it head-on, get it over with, and maybe not lose his mind in the process.

as he slipped out of the bathroom, his heart pounded, the hallways feeling too small, too crowded. his mind replayed every awkward moment from earlier—the way he’d stumbled through his apology when you ran into each other, the way he fumbled over his words. and now i have to spend hours with her? at my house? every day?

and my room’s a fucking disaster. panic crept into his chest. shit, i gotta clean up. his pace quickened as he made a beeline for the exit. and the porn stash. fuck, gotta hide that.

he practically sprinted the whole way home, bursting through the front door with a sigh of relief when he realized his parents weren’t home yet. thank god. he had some time to fix the chaos that was his bedroom before you saw it.

he stood in his doorway, staring at the disaster that was his room. clothes were scattered everywhere, empty food containers littered his desk, and his bed looked like a tornado had swept through. fuck, i’m a slob.

without wasting any time, he threw himself into cleanup mode, tossing clothes into his closet, kicking dirty socks under his bed, and frantically shoving cans and wrappers into the trash. out of sight, out of mind. he glanced around for anything incriminating and yanked open his bedside drawer. the stash of magazines sat there, mocking him. with a frustrated grunt, he stuffed them into the back of his closet behind a pile of sneakers, hoping you’d never find them.

just as he was tossing the last of the junk into his closet, he heard the front door creak open. shit, they’re home.

“heeseung?” his mom’s voice echoed up the stairs. “you home already?”

he froze, feeling like he’d been caught doing something illegal. “uh, yeah! just… studying!” he yelled back, cringing at how fake that sounded.

footsteps approached, and soon enough, his mom was standing in his doorway, raising an eyebrow at the semi-clean room. “wow, you cleaned your room. impressive,” she said, crossing her arms with a smile. “so… professor kang called. you’re getting a tutor?”

heeseung groaned, flopping onto his bed. “yeah, i know.”

his mom walked over, ruffling his hair affectionately. “it’s not a bad thing, heeseung. you could use the help. maybe it’ll give you some confidence.”

confidence? heeseung could barely talk to people without feeling like he was choking on his own words, and now he had to sit through hours of tutoring with you, someone who was smart, pretty, and totally out of his league. disaster waiting to happen.

“mom, it’s just awkward. i don’t know her. what if it’s weird?” he said, trying to explain without giving away how much this was freaking him out.

“it’s okay to be a little awkward. just try,” she teased, shaking her head. “who knows? maybe you’ll make a friend.”

he cringed at the thought. “mom, please.”

she laughed, giving him one last ruffle of his hair before walking out. “just give it a shot.”

“and no skipping the tutoring sessions, heeseung!” his dad shouted from downstairs. “professor kang said she’s one of his best students!”

he rolled his eyes, groaning. of course, dad’s on board.

as soon as his mom left, heeseung flopped back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. the reality hit him again—you were going to be in his house. in his room. tomorrow.

and then, there was that scent. it clung to his memory like a whisper he couldn’t shake. every time he thought about you, that faint vanilla scent flooded his mind. why the hell is this scent fucking me up so bad? he shifted uncomfortably, feeling the tension in his chest grow and… lower. fucking great.

he sat up, running his hands through his hair in frustration. get it together, man. but no matter how hard he tried to push it aside, your scent lingered, making him restless… and hard.

he grabbed one of the magazines from his stash, flipping through it to try and clear his head, but it wasn’t working. his thoughts weren’t on the glossy pages. they were on you. the way you looked at him earlier, the way your voice sounded when you said his name, that damn scent that wouldn’t leave his mind.

he tossed the magazine aside with a frustrated groan. this is fucking stupid.

the tightness in his jeans wasn’t going away, and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, his mind kept drifting back to you. she’s smart, pretty… and she’s going to be sitting in this room tomorrow, tutoring me.

and then it hit him, full force. i have a crush. a stupid, overwhelming, all-consuming crush on my tutor.

“fuck,” he muttered, rubbing his face. this is gonna be a disaster.

your fingers trembled around the straps of your backpack, grip so tight your knuckles had gone white. standing outside his house, all the memories came flooding back, overwhelming you. this house, this fucking house.

“goddamn it,” you muttered, biting hard on the inside of your cheek. how the hell were you supposed to pull this off? how were you supposed to walk into that house, sit there with him, and pretend nothing ever happened? like he didn’t get wasted and stick his piss-stained dick in you, thinking it was some messed-up dream?

your heart pounded, stomach twisting into knots tighter and tighter. every detail from that night replayed in your mind—his drunken giggles, the way his arm slung lazily around your shoulder when you walked him home, and then… that.

you stared at the door, pulse quickening the longer you stood there. just knock, you told yourself. just get it over with. but your feet were glued to the spot, hand hovering over the doorbell like a coward. you wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans, trying to force air into your lungs.

after what felt like forever, you finally knocked.

the door swung open almost instantly. it wasn’t heeseung though—it was his mom, smiling wide, completely oblivious to the storm of hell brewing inside you. “oh, you must be y/n! come on in, dear.”

you plastered on a smile, stepping inside even though everything inside you screamed turn around, walk away. the smell hit you immediately—familiar, something warm and comforting, but god, it twisted your stomach with nerves. your pulse hammered as the memories washed over you, the same house, the same scent. shit, this is real.

“heeseung! your tutor’s here!” his mom called out, her voice carrying through the house like everything was perfectly normal. she turned back to you, still beaming. “he’s been so nervous about this, you know? but we think this’ll be good for him. he really needs the help, poor thing.”

you nodded, forcing that fake smile to stay on your face, even though inside you were screaming. he’s nervous? what about me?

“heeseung, come down already!” his dad’s voice rang out from the living room, laced with amusement. “don’t keep her waiting, son.”

heeseung stumbled into view at the bottom of the stairs, looking just as flushed and panicked as you felt. his eyes met yours for a split second before darting away, awkward as hell. “uh… hey,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact.

you forced out a shaky, “hey.”

his parents exchanged amused glances, like they were in on some joke. “heeseung, sweetheart, relax,” his mom said, patting him on the shoulder. “y/n’s here to help, not interrogate you.”

heeseung let out a weak laugh that sounded on the verge of breaking. “yeah, i know, mom.”

from the living room, his dad chuckled. “you’re acting like it’s the first time you’ve ever had a girl over. lighten up.”

your face burned with heat, the irony punching you right in the gut. if only they fucking knew.

heeseung’s face turned beet red, and he looked like he wanted to crawl under a rock. “dad, please,” he muttered, practically begging for the conversation to stop. you shifted uncomfortably, wishing for the same.

his mom, still smiling, turned back to you. “he’s been talking about this all day, you know? but you’re such a sweet girl, i’m sure you’ll make this easy for him.”

heeseung visibly cringed at her words, his gaze glued to the floor. “mom…”

“what? it’s true!” she laughed, giving him another pat before finally leaving. “we’ll leave you two to it. make yourselves comfortable, okay?”

you nodded stiffly, heart racing like it was ready to burst out of your chest. this is a fucking nightmare.

heeseung barely lifted his head as his mom disappeared down the hall, leaving the two of you suffocating in silence. neither of you moved. the tension was thick, almost unbearable. after what felt like an eternity, heeseung finally cleared his throat, still not meeting your eyes. “uh… we can, uh, go to my room. for the tutoring.”

“yeah. sure,” you mumbled, trying to sound normal while your heart pounded against your ribcage.

he led the way upstairs, every step another painful reminder of that night. heeseung’s shoulders were stiff, his back rigid—he looked just as fucked up over this as you did, but that didn’t make it any easier.

his room hit you like a slap in the face. this fucking room. heeseung motioned to the desk without looking at you. “you can, uh, sit there. i’ll just… grab my stuff.” his hands fumbled through his bag, shaking like this was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

you slid into the chair, trying to steady your hands as you opened your own bag. “maybe we should start with history?” you said, your voice coming out shaky.

heeseung froze for a moment, then nodded, his fingers trembling as he grabbed his books. “yeah. history. sure.”

he pulled out a textbook, but it slipped from his hands and hit the desk with a loud thud. “sorry,” he muttered, face turning red as he sat on the edge of the bed, trying to stay as far from you as possible.

“it’s fine,” you whispered, flipping through the textbook even though your hands were shaking like crazy. this is so much worse than you thought it’d be.

heeseung scratched the back of his neck, his knee bouncing with nervous energy. “so… history. what chapter?”

you pretended to focus, flipping through the book without really looking. “uh… chapter seven? ancient civilizations.”

“right,” he nodded, but you could tell he didn’t give a shit about ancient civilizations. his eyes kept flicking to you and then back to the book, like he couldn’t decide if he should look at you or not.

jesus christ. every glance at him brought back flashes of that night—the slurred voice, his hands on you, the heat of his breath against your neck. and now, here you were, pretending like none of it ever happened.

“uh… any questions on the chapter?” you asked, your voice cracking despite your best effort to sound normal.

heeseung shifted uncomfortably, his knee bouncing faster. “not really. i mean… i just don’t get why any of this shit matters, you know?” he let out a nervous laugh, scratching at his neck again. “like, why do we need to know about a bunch of dead guys?”

you forced a laugh, but it came out awkward and stilted. “yeah, i guess that’s one way to see it.”

and just like that, the suffocating silence returned, hanging over the room like a weight neither of you could shake.

“thanks for, you know, doing this,” heeseung mumbled, breaking the thick, uncomfortable silence. his voice was low, barely above a whisper, like he was trying not to make things even more awkward than they already were. “i know it’s probably boring as hell.”

you shook your head quickly, almost too quickly. desperate to respond, to fill the heavy tension weighing down on the both of you. “no, it’s fine. really.” your voice came out too eager, almost like you were trying to convince yourself as much as him.

your nails dug into the wood of the desk as you clenched your hands. the awkwardness was suffocating, thick in the air, making it hard to even breathe. every second you spent sitting there was another reminder of the memories you were trying so hard to bury. this was shaping up to be the longest fucking day of your life.

but then, something unexpected happened.

at first, heeseung was stumbling over every single word, barely managing to string together a coherent sentence. his nervous energy practically spilled out of him, the tension in the room reaching a breaking point. but as you started actually going over the material, you noticed something that surprised you. beneath all that nervousness, he wasn’t completely clueless. in fact, there was something sharp underneath all that anxiety. he’s not stupid, you realized, a bit caught off guard. he just hasn’t been taught right.

as you started asking him about key points from the chapter, he struggled—obviously. he could barely meet your eyes without his face turning bright red. but little by little, he found his footing. his responses became clearer, more confident, though his voice still wavered slightly. the blushing didn’t go away, but with each right answer, you saw a flicker of pride in his eyes that he tried—and failed—to hide behind his nervous façade.

the air between you started to ease, just a little, like the worst of the awkwardness was finally fading. but your muscles were still tight, your whole body feeling the strain of holding yourself together in the same room as him. fuck, I need a break.

stretching your arms over your head, you stood up. “hey, um, i’m just gonna go to the bathroom real quick,” you said, your voice casual, but the truth was you needed to step away before the tension swallowed you whole.

as soon as you stood, heeseung froze, his eyes going wide like you had just found some dark, terrible secret. his mind spiraled into overdrive. shit, did i leave something out? his heart raced, his eyes scanning the room frantically. fuck, i hope she doesn’t see anything.

he scanned the room, panicking, making sure everything was hidden. is there something i forgot to stash away? goddammit, no, it’s fine, everything’s hidden. he kept repeating it to himself like a mantra as he watched you head toward the door, praying to whatever god might be listening that you wouldn’t find anything embarrassing.

it’s fine. everything’s hidden. she won’t see shit.

but then, as you walked past him, it hit him again—that scent. the one that had been messing with his head since the moment you stepped into the house. heeseung’s breath caught in his throat, and his entire body reacted, a tension tightening low in his stomach. why the hell does she smell so good? the question ricocheted through his mind as a rush of heat surged through his chest, making his skin prickle.

he didn’t understand why, but your scent was driving him crazy, pulling at something deep inside him he didn’t want to acknowledge. it was all he could focus on, filling his head, clouding his thoughts.

completely unaware of the turmoil happening just a few feet away, you walked past him like nothing was wrong, heading to the bathroom. meanwhile, heeseung sat there, gripping the edge of the bed like it was the only thing keeping him from losing his mind.

as soon as the bathroom door shut behind you, heeseung let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. fuck. his thoughts were a mess, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t control. he leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. this is gonna be so much harder than I thought.

when you came back into the room, heeseung was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking like he’d seen a ghost. his hands fidgeted nervously with the pillow he had awkwardly placed over his lap, and you quickly realized what he was hiding—he wasn’t exactly subtle about it.

“ready to pick up where we left off?” you asked, trying to pretend you didn’t notice. but it was obvious. he was flushed, his eyes darting away, and when he nodded, his voice cracked.

“y-yeah, sure. let’s get back to it.”

he was acting weird as hell, but you didn’t push it. you sat back down, flipping open the textbook, trying to focus. but every time you glanced at him, you saw how he squirmed, his knuckles white as he gripped the pillow over his lap. what the hell is going on with him? you wondered, but tried to brush it off.

“so, we were talking about the fall of the roman empire…” you leaned in slightly, pointing to a page, your shoulder brushing against his arm. it was just a casual touch—nothing to make a big deal about—but his reaction was immediate and intense. he stiffened, going rigid like he’d been electrocuted, his hands clutching the pillow even tighter.

“uh—I’ll be right back,” heeseung muttered, standing up so fast he nearly knocked the pillow off his lap, almost exposing exactly what he didn’t want you to see. he fumbled, yanking the pillow back into place, his face burning bright red.

you blinked, utterly confused as you watched him practically run out of the room. “okay… yeah, sure.”

heeseung slammed the bathroom door shut behind him, leaning against it like it was his last line of defense. fuck, fuck, fuck. his entire body was on fire, his mind spinning out of control. this can’t be happening. the scent of you, the way your shoulder brushed against him—it was all too much. now, he was hard as a rock, panicking like a fucking teenager.

he turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face, his hands shaking. “get it together, man,” he muttered to his reflection, staring at the mirror as if it could fix everything. but no matter how hard he tried, the memory of your touch, your scent, clung to him, making his pulse race and his skin feel too tight. i’m so screwed.

back in the room, you sat there, still trying to wrap your head around what just happened. he’s acting so weird. maybe he was just anxious, maybe he needed a minute to calm himself down. but the way he bolted out? way too dramatic. something was definitely off.

and then you heard it.

at first, it was faint—so quiet you almost convinced yourself you’d imagined it. but then it came again, clearer this time: a low, breathless moan.

your eyes widened, your heart stuttering in your chest. oh my fucking god. no. there’s no way. you froze, straining to hear, but now there was no mistaking it—the soft, needy sounds coming from behind the bathroom door. he’s jerking off.

because of you.

a rush of heat shot through your body, every nerve on fire as you sat there, paralyzed by the realization. what the hell am I supposed to do? your heart hammered in your chest, torn between shock and… something else. something hotter, more dangerous, pooling low in your stomach as his muffled groans filled the room.

you pressed your thighs together, trying to ignore the way your body was reacting, your breathing shaky as you listened. it was insane, this whole situation was insane, but there was no denying the effect it was having on you. you were turned on, and that knowledge sent a thrill through you that you couldn’t quite suppress.

when heeseung finally returned, he looked way too refreshed, like he’d just hit the reset button on his whole system. his face was still flushed, but there was a smug, almost guilty glint in his eyes. he thought he’d gotten away with it.

he smiled awkwardly at you, rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “uh, sorry about that,” he mumbled. “don’t worry… i washed my hands.”

you laughed—an actual, real laugh that slipped out before you could stop it. something about the way he said it, like a dumbass joke he thought would break the ice, hit differently. it reminded you of the night, a jolt of familiarity running through you, an inside joke only the two of you would get.

“we’ve already been through so much material today. i think i’ll survive without you washing your hands.”

the second the words left your mouth, you saw it—the flicker of recognition in his eyes, the way his face shifted, like something deep in his brain snapped into place. fuck. his body went stiff, the color draining from his face before flushing a deep, panicked red.

heeseung’s wide, frantic eyes locked onto yours, his voice cracking when he spoke. “what?”

your heart dropped, hands going clammy as the weight of it all crashed down on you. shit. you could see it in his face, the way realization slowly crept in, the horror dawning on him. he remembers.

“what?” you echoed, panic rising in your chest. but then you saw it—the way his expression crumbled, the memories hitting him like a freight train, dragging both of you back to that night.

“fuck,” heeseung muttered, stepping back, his eyes darting between you and the floor like he was trying to escape a nightmare. “that was you?” he whispered, his voice breaking under the weight of the question.

the second he said it, your stomach dropped. this can’t be real. you stood there, frozen, heart pounding, every beat louder in your ears. heeseung’s eyes were wild, panicked, and when your expression confirmed the truth he dreaded, he stumbled back like he’d just been hit.

“that wasn’t a dream?” he practically shouted, his voice cracking, the panic raw and undeniable.

you didn’t have words. what the fuck could you even say? you stared at him, mouth open, trying to catch your breath as the weight of everything settled over you both like a goddamn storm.

heeseung’s hands flew to his head, fingers gripping his hair as he muttered to himself, “holy fuck, holy fuck,” over and over again. his eyes were wide with disbelief. “i thought… i thought i fucking dreamt that.”

you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. your throat felt like it was closing up, memories of that night replaying in sharp, excruciating detail. you watched as heeseung flinched, stepping further back from you like you’d just set him on fire. guilt, panic, and something else flickered across his face, thickening the air between you.

he stared at you, voice trembling. “you knew?”

his question felt like a punch to the gut. you swallowed hard, your chest tightening as you tried to find something to say. but everything felt stuck. “i… i didn’t…” you stammered, feeling your face burn as the walls closed in on you. “i didn’t think you’d remember.”

heeseung groaned, fingers pulling at his hair as he started pacing, his whole body a bundle of nerves. “holy shit, this is fucking unreal,” he muttered under his breath, voice barely holding together.

he stopped in his tracks, turning to face you with wide, panicked eyes. “so you knew the whole time?” his voice rose, cracking. “you knew and didn’t say anything?”

you blinked, your heart hammering against your ribs, hands trembling as you tried to explain. “i didn’t think you’d remember,” you whispered, voice small.

he let out a frustrated groan, collapsing onto the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. “fuck.”

heeseung looked back up at you, his voice cracking under the weight of everything. “i’m so fucking sorry, but like…” he hesitated, panic clearly building again. “was this whole thing… planned?”

the question slapped you in the face. planned? your mind reeled for a second, trying to catch up. “planned?” you repeated, disbelief bubbling up. “heeseung, no! what the hell? of course not.”

he blinked, still wrecked with guilt, but now his expression wavered, uncertainty creeping in. “so… you weren’t pretending?” he asked, voice barely a whisper. “the tutoring—was that real?”

you sighed, rubbing your temple. oh my god. “professor kang literally told me this morning that you were failing. i didn’t even know until today.”

heeseung blinked at you, still processing, stuck in his daze. then heeseung narrowed his eyes, suspicion flickering across his face. “so you just act like it never happened?” he asked, voice tense. “why?”

the air thickened with tension, your throat tightening. do i really have to explain this?

“because…” you hesitated, looking away. “i didn’t think you’d want to remember it like i wanted to.”

heeseung’s eyes softened, scanning your face, the weight of your words sinking in. realization slowly dawned on him.

“wait,” he said, voice lower now, more serious. "you wanted to? i don't get it.”

your heart skipped a beat, body freezing in place. every muscle tensed up as your mind scrambled. fuck.

there was no turning back now.

you closed the textbook in your hands with a quiet thud, the sound cutting through the thick silence. your heart raced, palms sweaty as you tried to steady your breath.

heeseung’s eyes stayed locked on you, dark and intense, searching your face. the air between you crackled with something electric, something you couldn’t shake. you didn’t want to.

“did you?” he asked again, voice softer this time, almost like he was afraid of what your answer would be. “did you want that night to happen?”

you swallowed hard, the weight of his question settling into your bones. the room felt like it was closing in, every breath getting harder to take. you didn’t want to lie, didn’t want to pretend like it didn’t mean anything. but saying it out loud? confirming it? that was like stepping into something you couldn’t undo.

“i—” your voice cracked, and you looked down at the closed book in your lap, gripping it like it could somehow ground you. “yes,” you whispered, your throat tight. “i wanted it, but i never expected it to... go that far.”

heeseung froze, hyper-focused on you, the rest of the world fading into the background. his eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours like he was seeing you for the first time. and before you knew it, he was moving closer.

his face was inches from yours, so close you could feel his warmth, his breath unsteady. but there was no awkwardness this time, none of that usual nervous energy. he didn’t even seem to realize how close he was, or how this should’ve freaked him out.

he just stared at you, unwavering, like he was trying to see inside your head, trying to understand every word you weren’t saying. his breath hitched, and you could feel the tension between you shift, deepening.

“cause i’ve always…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

heeseung’s breath faltered, his gaze flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“seen you,” you finished, voice soft but steady, the confession hanging in the air.

he blinked, stunned, disbelief written all over his face. “seen me?” he echoed, like he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around what you’d just said.

you could see it in his face—the insecurity, the doubt. why me? that’s what he was thinking.

you leaned in slightly, meeting his eyes. “i know what you’re thinking, heeseung. you think you’re a loser, right? that’s what you see when you look in the mirror.”

he flinched, the words hitting him square in the chest, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to argue, but couldn’t. the room felt heavier now, the silence deafening.

“but, god,” you breathed, your voice faltering for a second. “i was happy we had that moment, even if you didn’t remember me. i was just… content, heeseung.”

you paused, watching him closely, seeing the way your words settled into him. “you’d probably freak out if you woke up the next morning remembering what happened, so i let it go. i didn’t want it to be complicated.”

heeseung’s voice was barely a whisper, raw and hesitant. “you’re really making it seem like you like me, y/n.”

your heart pounded in your chest, every muscle in your body tight. you swallowed hard, biting your lip before finally speaking.

“seem like?” you said, your voice soft but certain. “heeseung… you think i’d have gone through all of this if i didn’t?”

his breath caught, his eyes wide with shock. it was like he hadn’t even considered the possibility.

“i don’t seem like i like you,�� you added, your voice steady now. “i do like you.”

his breath hitched again, his eyes flickering with something intense, something raw. he looked at you, stunned, like he was finally seeing what had been in front of him the whole time.

“i always have,” you admitted, each word bringing a wave of relief. “and at that party… i just wanted to make a good impression. you were drinking by yourself, and—” you paused, a small smile creeping onto your lips, “adorably so.”

heeseung stared at you, his eyes wide, disbelief still lingering, but slowly giving way to something else. the weight between you both was shifting, the tension thickening, but in a different way now.

as the truth settled in, you felt lighter, like you’d been carrying a weight for so long and had finally let it go.

but heeseung didn’t react the way you thought he would. instead, he pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them, staring off to the side like he was anywhere but here with you. he was listening—fuck, you could tell—but he couldn’t look at you. not really. and that hurt more than anything. the silence between you was thick, almost unbearable, your chest tightening with every second that passed.

he was processing it all, you knew that much. but seeing him curled up like that, so small, so fucking vulnerable—it made something in you twist painfully.

“anyway… i’m sorry for not telling you,” you whispered, voice shaking under the weight of guilt that had been sitting on your chest for what felt like forever. “i just… i felt like i took advantage of you.”

he didn’t say shit for a moment, just let out this long, heavy sigh like he’d been holding everything in, and now it was all crashing down on him. his eyes, distant and glazed, started to focus again, and the expression on his face shifted—like all the pieces were finally clicking into place.

“no, y/n,” he muttered, voice low but steady. “i kept you here, didn’t i?”

you blinked, staring at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying, trying to figure out what was going through his mind. the words hung between you, heavy, like the truth of it was sinking into both of you at the same time.

“it’s all coming back now,” heeseung said, sounding a little stronger this time, more certain. “i remember… you were kind. you didn’t have to take me home, but you did. and… you made me feel safe, y/n. i didn’t want you to leave.”

his voice softened then, almost trembling. “i asked you to stay, right? because… you put up with me.”

his head dipped, eyes flickering toward you before quickly looking away again, like facing you was too much. “i even asked you to cuddle me,” he muttered, and you saw him wince, the embarrassment creeping up his neck, turning his ears pink. “god, that was so cringy.”

he rubbed a hand over his face, trying to hide from himself, like the memories were too much to handle. “and then… everything blurred. i couldn’t tell what was real or not.”

his gaze met yours for just a second before dropping again, his voice barely above a whisper. “and you smelled so fucking good,” he admitted, voice cracking. “and… i got horny. like, really fucking horny.”

he buried his face in his hands again, clearly mortified by his own words, his whole body tense, like he was bracing himself for something. his breathing was ragged, the weight of everything crashing down on him all at once.

“i…” he started, voice shaking. he peeked up at you, shame all over his face, red as hell, like he wished he could disappear right then and there. “i even… came inside you, didn’t i?” his voice cracked on the words, the confession spilling out like it was choking him.

heeseung’s eyes finally locked on yours, searching—fuck, maybe he was looking for forgiveness or something—but all you could see was how raw, how broken he was, like he was laying everything bare in front of you. his body was wound tight, waiting, terrified of what you were going to say. the air between you was suffocating, thick with everything that had been left unsaid.

“is… is that why you didn’t want me to find out?” his voice wavered, eyes wide, realization dawning on him all at once. “because… you might be pregnant?” the question hung there, thick and cold, like the air itself had stopped moving. his whole body tensed up, eyes locked on you, fear creeping into his expression. you could see him struggling to breathe, his hands twitching nervously in his lap.

“fuck,” he mumbled, barely loud enough to hear. “could you be pregnant?”

you couldn’t help it. you lost it. the laugh ripped out of you before you could stop it, loud and sudden, shattering the tension like a glass hitting the floor. you were laughing so hard your sides ached, gasping for breath in between fits, the absurdity of the moment too much.

heeseung just sat there, staring at you like you’d lost your mind. his eyes went wide, his face going from confused to embarrassed in seconds, the color rushing to his cheeks. he was frozen, completely clueless.

“what the hell—” he stammered, voice cracking. “what’s so fucking funny?”

you wiped a tear from your eye, still giggling. “oh my god, heeseung,” you gasped, trying to get your breath back. “no! i’m not pregnant. that’s not why i didn’t want you to find out.”

he blinked at you, completely thrown off, like he couldn’t process what you were saying. “wait… what?”

“dude, relax,” you snorted, trying to hold back more laughter. “i’m on the pill. and it’s only been, like, what, not even that long ago?”

heeseung’s face was now burning, his embarrassment practically radiating off him. “oh… uh, right,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes like the plague.

you watched him fidget, clearly still mortified. his fingers kept twitching, his face still bright red. “right… okay,” he mumbled, his voice quieter now, embarrassed as hell. “sorry, i just… fuck, i’m still processing all of this.”

the room fell into an awkward silence again, the laughter dying down. you studied his face, seeing that raw vulnerability creeping back in. softly, you asked, “you’re not mad at me?”

heeseung’s head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise. “mad? no! no, y/n, i’m not mad at you at all,” he said quickly, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you’d even ask that. “i just… i don’t know, i was scared. i thought i fucked up or made you feel weird.”

his hand went back to rubbing his neck, that nervous habit of his you were so used to by now. “but no, i could never be mad at you. i just… i wish i remembered sooner.”

your voice softened, quieter now, the laughter completely gone. “and if you had remembered… what would you have done?”

heeseung looked at you, finally starting to relax a little. the tension between you shifted, turning into something more open, more real. it didn’t feel so heavy anymore, and for the first time, it felt like you were both being honest.

he let out a long sigh, his lips twitching into a small, awkward smile. “honestly? probably nothing. i wouldn’t have had the guts.”

you blinked, surprised. “nothing?”

he shrugged, his blush creeping back, but this time it felt… softer, like he was just a little shy. “yeah. i’d have overthought the shit out of it. by the time i figured it out, you’d have moved on, and i’d still be sitting there like an idiot.”

he chuckled, the sound nervous but genuine, scratching his neck again. “guess i’m not really that bold.”

you couldn’t help but smile, warmth creeping into your chest. “you never had to be bold, heeseung,” you said softly. “i like you because you’re you. awkward, cute… and you turn red like a fucking tomato.”

you poked his cheek playfully, and he batted your hand away, grumbling, “stop it, y/n.” but there was a smile on his lips, soft and shy. the tension between you had melted, replaced by something lighter, something that felt easy, like you were finally just… okay.

“actually…” heeseung started, glancing at the scattered study materials before turning back to you, his expression kind of nervous. “oh, sorry, i think i’m taking up too much of your time.”

you shook your head quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. “no, heeseung, i don’t have a curfew. what were you gonna say?”

he shifted in his seat, eyes flickering to the floor as he tried to gather his thoughts. “it’s just… the morning after that night,” he began slowly, his voice a little quieter now. “i woke up, and i could still smell you. your scent was everywhere, but my memory… it was completely blacked out.”

he looked down, clearly embarrassed, like reliving the confusion made him uncomfortable. “i tried piecing it together, but nothing made sense. i thought maybe i dreamt it. but now… now that i remember, it feels like this weight’s been lifted, you know?”

you watched him, that familiar warmth spreading through your chest. he seemed like he was finally making sense of it all, and seeing him find some clarity in the mess of things made you smile. but before you could say anything, a knock on the door interrupted the moment.

heeseung’s mom came in, completely oblivious to the tension lingering in the room. she was all smiles, carrying a tray of snacks like everything was perfectly normal. and the second she walked in, heeseung shot up from his seat, looking so damn stiff and awkward, you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at how ridiculous he looked.

“oh, no need to stand, sweetheart,” his mom chirped, setting the tray down with a proud grin. “brought you two some snacks. keep up that energy while you study!”

“uh, thanks, mom,” heeseung mumbled, his voice strained, like he was trying so hard not to die of embarrassment.

his mom winked at you, completely missing the vibe in the room. “don’t let him distract you too much, y/n,” she teased before walking back out, leaving the door cracked open.

heeseung sank back into his chair, his face bright red, still not able to look at you. he was so flustered, you could practically feel the secondhand embarrassment rolling off him.

you couldn’t help it—you grinned, leaning back a little, eyebrow raised. “you okay there, heeseung?” you teased, smirking at how frazzled he looked.

“yeah, totally fine,” he squeaked, voice way too high-pitched to sound convincing. “just… didn’t expect her to come in.”

“she’s sweet,” you said, reaching for one of the snacks on the tray. “it’s not a big deal.”

he let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck like it was a reflex. “yeah, she just… can be a little overprotective sometimes.” he finally glanced at you, but you could tell he still wanted to crawl under a rock and disappear.

you chuckled, taking a bite of the cookie. “i think it’s cute. besides, we got snacks out of it, so i’m not complaining.”

he smiled, and for the first time, it actually looked like he was relaxing a bit. there was this softness in his expression now, his guard dropping. “thanks… for not making it weird and for coming back here.”

you paused, surprised by the sincerity in his voice, but then smiled at him warmly. “heeseung, i wouldn’t have come back if i didn’t want to.”

the tension between you both seemed to melt away, the air feeling lighter now, like you could just exist together without all the heavy shit hanging over you. you popped another cookie into your mouth, enjoying the calm after all the earlier intensity.

“so, now that your mom’s gone,” you teased, leaning back in your chair, “you wanna pick up where we left off? or are you too traumatized to continue?”

heeseung shook his head, his smile lingering on his lips. “nah, i’m good now. besides, you’re supposed to be tutoring me. can’t bail on that.”

you laughed softly, trying to hide the grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. “oh, i would never. besides, you’re doing pretty well. maybe i’m not even needed anymore.”

heeseung glanced at you, his expression softening in a way that made your chest feel tight. “nah, i still need you.”

the way he said it—so simple, so honest—caught you completely off guard. your heart skipped a beat, but before you could even process it, he turned back to the snacks, picking one up like he hadn’t just said something that made your entire body feel warm.

for the next week, you found yourself going to heeseung’s house almost every day. each time you walked through that door, it was like a layer of awkwardness between you both peeled away. with every study session, heeseung started to relax, not just with the material but with you. his stuttering wasn’t as bad, and there was this growing confidence in the way he answered your questions. it made you feel proud, seeing him actually believe in himself more.

of course, he was still his awkward self sometimes—blushing like crazy whenever his mom brought in snacks or when you caught him staring for a second too long. there was an ease now, a rhythm, this natural back-and-forth that felt… good.

as the days went on, heeseung began to open up more, not just about school, but about everything else. he told you about his favorite music, the stupid shit his friends did, even embarrassing moments that made him groan but that he still shared with you anyway. it felt like you were getting to know him all over again, piece by piece, like he was finally letting you see the parts of him no one else got to.

you were both hunched over the desk, working through equations when the door suddenly burst open, slamming against the wall. you both jumped, startled, as jay barged in with his usual loud energy and a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“yo, heeseung!” jay’s eyes flicked between the two of you, then settled on a teasing smirk. “oh, shit. am i interrupting something?”

heeseung shot up from his chair, his entire face turning bright red. “jay, what the hell, man?” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.

jay completely ignored him, his grin only widening as he stepped further into the room like he owned the place. “so this is what you’ve been up to, huh? no wonder you’ve been ditching us all week.” his eyes shifted to you, mischief sparkling in them. “studying, huh? real convincing.”

you rolled your eyes, biting back a laugh at how flustered heeseung looked. “we’re literally going over formulas, jay,” you said, holding up your notebook as proof.

jay leaned casually against the doorframe, that playful smirk still on his lips. “yeah, yeah, formulas,” he teased, but there wasn’t any bite in his tone. “so… is that a no to valorant?”

heeseung looked like he was tempted, his posture shifting as he considered jay’s offer. you couldn’t help but chuckle softly—heeseung had been working his ass off. he deserved a break. “hey, it’s fine,” you said, closing your notebook and packing up your things. “you’ve earned it. we can pick this up another day.”

heeseung shot you a grateful smile, clearly relieved. “thanks, i’ll finish the assignments, i promise.�� there was sincerity in his voice, and you knew he meant it, but before he could say anything else, jay cut in with his usual easy grin.

“thanks for not hogging him, y/n. i was starting to think he’d forgotten about me,” jay joked, nudging heeseung playfully.

you laughed, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “heeseung’s been doing great. you’d be surprised how much he knows, jay.”

heeseung’s cheeks flushed again, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he always did when he was embarrassed. “jay, come on…”

“what?” jay grinned, throwing an arm around heeseung’s shoulders. “i’m just saying, it’s good to see my buddy killing it. but seriously, y/n, thanks for helping him out.”

you smiled warmly at heeseung, feeling proud of how far he’d come. “see you tomorrow, heeseung. don’t forget to review what we went over, okay?”

heeseung nodded, his voice soft but filled with appreciation. “yeah, i will.” his gaze lingered on you for a second longer, a flicker of admiration in his eyes before jay gave him a light shove toward the door, both of them grinning as you waved goodbye.

as soon as the door clicked shut, jay turned to heeseung with a shit-eating grin, barely holding back laughter. “thanks, i’ll finish the assignments, i promise,” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice, dripping with sarcasm. “you’ve got it bad, man.”

heeseung groaned, running a hand through his hair, cheeks still flushed from embarrassment. “shut the hell up,” he muttered, though the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

“nah, seriously though,” jay continued, nudging him with his elbow, his grin widening. “you’ve got heart eyes for her, bro. i’ve never seen you like this.”

heeseung buried his face in his hands, groaning louder. “i’m gonna kill you.”

jay, clearly enjoying himself way too much, flopped onto the bed with zero regard for heeseung’s sanity. “so, what’s the deal, man? y’all have been ‘studying’ for, like, days now. spill it.”

heeseung, looking completely mortified, muttered, “jay, get out.”

“nah, i’m good,” jay shot back, smirking. “come on, just ask her out already. what’s the worst that could happen?”

heeseung avoided his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “it’s not that simple.”

jay groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “bro, it is that simple. she likes you too. it’s so fucking obvious.”

heeseung’s face went a deeper shade of red. “you think?”

jay scoffed. “dude, she’s been coming over for a week straight. you really think it’s just for the tutoring?”

heeseung hesitated, then quietly muttered, “well… she did say she liked me.”

jay’s eyes went wide, and then he burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. “wait, what? she said she liked you? and you’ve just been sitting on that info like an idiot?”

heeseung cringed, feeling more and more like a complete idiot by the second. “yeah… and, uh… we hooked up,” he added, barely above a whisper.

jay’s laughter came to an abrupt stop. his jaw dropped. “what the fuck? you hooked up with her?”

heeseung nodded, wincing at the memory. “yeah…”

jay was practically vibrating with excitement, eyes wide. “oh my god, heeseung finally fucking did it! you didn’t dream it? it actually happened?”

heeseung groaned, rubbing his temples like he could erase the embarrassment. “it’s real, jay. it happened.”

jay collapsed back onto the bed, laughing hysterically. “holy shit. but—how did it go down?”

heeseung shifted awkwardly, his voice dropping to a mumble. “i, uh… came too soon.”

jay’s laughter died instantly, replaced by a choking noise. “what?” he stared at heeseung in disbelief. “you came early?”

heeseung winced, face burning with shame. “i was drunk, man… it just happened.”

jay shook his head, smacking his forehead dramatically. “dude, you had one shot, and that’s how it went down?”

heeseung groaned again, burying his face in his hands. “trust me, i know.”

jay just stared at him, shaking his head in disbelief before smacking heeseung’s arm. “so, what now? you’re just gonna sit here, do nothing, and keep pretending like she’s just your tutor?”

heeseung blinked, caught off guard. “uh… yeah?”

jay groaned louder, throwing his hands in the air. “you’re killing me, dude. she likes you, you like her, you’ve already hooked up, and you’re doing nothing?”

heeseung shrugged, clearly conflicted. “i don’t know, man. i’m not good at this shit. what if i mess it up?”

“you already messed it up,” jay teased, though his smile softened a little. “and she’s still coming over. what’s stopping you?”

heeseung bit his lip, hesitation clear in his expression. “but… what if she’s just being nice?”

jay rolled his eyes so hard you’d think they’d get stuck. “she’s not just being nice, dude. stop overthinking this.”

heeseung sighed, finally giving in. “fine, i’ll ask her. but if it gets weird, i’m blaming you.”

jay grinned wide, slapping his back. “trust me, she’s not going anywhere.”

but even with jay’s pep talks, heeseung still couldn’t bring himself to ask you out. every time he tried, the words got stuck in his throat, and he convinced himself that staying quiet was safer. he didn’t want to ruin whatever the hell you two had going on—whatever this was.

so he settled.

you were still coming over, still sitting beside him during these study sessions that had long turned into just excuses to hang out. you didn’t seem to mind, and truthfully, neither did he. there was a comfort in the way you both just were. heeseung stole a glance at you while you were focused on your notebook, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. every time he thought about asking you out, that fear crept back in. so for now, this would have to be enough.

“by the way,” your voice cut through the haze of heeseung’s thoughts, snapping him back to reality. he blinked, focusing on you as you kept going. “i won’t be able to come over tomorrow.” his stomach dropped instantly, but he tried to act casual, even though he could already feel himself missing you. “oh, really? why not?” he asked, his voice light, like it didn’t bother him at all. “my childhood friend, jake, is coming back, and i’m picking him up from the airport,” you explained, smiling easily. jake? childhood friend? the name hit him like a punch in the gut, and his mind started spinning. “oh… jake, huh?” he repeated, forcing the words out, trying to keep the unease out of his voice.

“yeah, we haven’t seen each other in years,” you said, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside him. “we’re just gonna catch up and hang out.” heeseung nodded, forcing a smile that felt way too tight. “sounds cool.” his mind, though, was screaming who the fuck is jake? the thought of you spending time with some other guy—a friend you clearly cared about—made his chest tighten. he didn’t want to feel jealous, but it crept in anyway. he cleared his throat, trying to play it cool, but the words came out too forced. “so, uh… jake?” you glanced at him, noticing the slight frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. you raised an eyebrow, your lips twitching into an amused smile. is he seriously jealous? “yeah, we’re pretty close,” you said, watching him carefully, finding his reaction kind of adorable. “he’s like a brother to me. we grew up together.”

heeseung nodded again, but his expression stayed stiff, that faint frown deepening. “right. like a brother.” it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

you bit your lip, holding back a laugh. the way he was squirming was too cute. “heeseung… are you jealous?” you teased, your voice playful as you watched him struggle to keep his cool. his eyes widened, and he straightened up in his seat, clearly caught off guard. “what? no, i’m not jealous!” he blurted out, his voice way too high-pitched to sound convincing. “why would i be jealous? it’s just… jake.” you couldn’t help but laugh at how flustered he was getting. it only made you like him more. he actually cared. “i think you two would get along,” you said, enjoying his discomfort just a little too much. “he loves gaming, like you and jay. i’m sure you guys would hit it off.” heeseung blinked, trying to process what you just said, but the mention of jake still had him thrown. “fit in with us?” he repeated, his voice hesitant. “he’s a gamer too?”

“yeah, he’s obsessed with valorant,” you grinned. “you guys would probably end up playing for hours if you met.”

heeseung shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the jealousy still eating at him. “sounds… cool, i guess,” he mumbled, trying not to let his frown take over. “so… he’s just a friend, right?” you laughed, shaking your head at how obvious he was being. “yeah, just a friend, heeseung.” he hesitated for a second, his voice dropping to a whisper, barely loud enough for you to hear. “have you kissed him?” your eyes widened at the sudden question, but you quickly recovered, fake gagging in response. “no way! it’s not like that,” you said, laughing. “he’s like family.” heeseung’s entire body relaxed, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “oh… okay, good,” he mumbled, his tone sheepish but relieved. you grinned at him, leaning in a little closer, enjoying how easily he got flustered. “were you really that worried?” heeseung’s blush deepened as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. “i don’t know,” he muttered, his eyes flicking nervously to your lips. “just… had to be sure.” “why?” you pushed, raising an eyebrow as you leaned in just a little more, watching him squirm. “does it make you feel better that i kissed you and not jake?”

heeseung froze, his entire face turning a deep shade of red. his eyes widened in panic, like he was scrambling for something to say but had nothing. “i—I mean, yeah, maybe a little?” he stammered, clearly flustered and caught off guard. you smiled wider, seeing how easily he unraveled around you. “so it matters?” you teased, not letting up. he bit his lip, looking like he wanted to crawl under a rock. “well… yeah,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “it matters because… i like you.” the confession hit you like a truck, and you quickly lifted your notebook to shield your face, trying to hide the way your cheeks burned. heeseung just said he liked you, and your heart felt like it was about to burst. “oh right… i never actually told you,” heeseung mumbled, suddenly realizing the weight of his words. just as you lowered your notebook to respond, the door slammed open, and the moment was shattered. “dad, seriously?” heeseung groaned, rubbing his temples as his dad burst into the room, completely oblivious to the situation. “let’s celebrate!” his dad shouted, grinning like it was the best idea ever, with his mom trailing right behind him, bottles and glasses in hand like they were about to throw a full-blown party. you and heeseung both stared at them, caught off guard. “what?” “just saw your grades, kid! you passed everything! we’re celebrating!” his dad announced, shaking the bottles with excitement. “y/n, you’re joining us too!” his mom added, extending a glass toward you. you exchanged a quick look with heeseung, both of you in shock, trying to process what was happening. heeseung let out a defeated sigh, clearly resigned to his fate. “yeah, sure… why not.” you couldn’t help but giggle, nudging him playfully. “guess we’re celebrating, then.” his dad raised a bottle triumphantly. “i called your mom, y/n,” he said, flashing a proud grin. “she said you could stay the night!”

both you and heeseung instantly turned bright red, whipping your heads toward each other in disbelief. “what?” you said in unison. “yup!” his mom chimed in, completely unfazed. “figured it’d be fun. besides, you two have been spending so much time together, it just made sense.” heeseung groaned, sinking further into his chair, clearly mortified. “dad, you can’t just… do that.” your cheeks flushed even more, completely thrown by how casually they planned it. “uh… if it’s really okay…”

heeseung peeked through his fingers, still looking like he wanted to disappear. “yeah… if that’s what you want.”

you laughed awkwardly. “well… looks like we’re having a sleepover.” “but she’s a girl!” heeseung blurted out, clearly panicking. “well, isn’t she your girlfriend?” his dad asked, like it was the most casual thing in the world. both you and heeseung froze, turning an even deeper shade of red. “what? no!” you shouted at the same time, the words tumbling out in unison. his mom chuckled, clearly amused by how flustered you both were. “oh, come on, you two are practically inseparable.” heeseung groaned again, burying his face in his hands. “mom, it’s not like that!” you cleared your throat, trying to regain some composure. “yeah, we’re just… friends,” you said, though the word friends felt strange given everything that had happened. his parents exchanged a knowing glance but thankfully didn’t push it. his dad waved his hand dismissively. “well, either way, it’s settled! y/n’s staying, and we’re celebrating!”

before either of you could argue, his mom was already clearing away the textbooks, setting down the bottles and glasses like they’d planned it all out. heeseung groaned again, muttering into his hands. “this is a nightmare.” you giggled, nudging him gently. “looks like we’re having a party.” “please kill me,” he muttered, but you could see the hint of a smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. your eyes flickered toward the bottles of alcohol on the table. “looks like they want us wrecked,” you mumbled. heeseung peeked out from behind his hands, glancing at the alcohol. “they’re trying to ruin my life,” he grumbled. you laughed, picking up one of the bottles. “well, we could always just… go with it. celebrate your grades, make a night of it.” heeseung raised an eyebrow, still hesitant but clearly tempted. “you wanna get wrecked with me?” “why not?” you grinned, pouring a small shot. “might make things less awkward.” he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “yeah, well… anything’s better than this.” he grabbed a glass, finally giving in. “let’s just hope my parents don’t come back.” “why? you planning something?” you teased, watching him fumble with the bottle. heeseung froze for a second, eyes wide before quickly pouring the drink, mumbling, “n-no, I just… thought it’d help loosen things up.” you laughed, thoroughly enjoying how flustered he was getting. “i’m not gonna bite, heeseung.” he handed you a glass, managing a shy smile. “yeah, well… i might need a few of these to survive tonight.” he raised his glass with a grin. you raised yours, smirking as you clinked it against his. “here’s to surviving tonight.” heeseung downed his shot too fast, immediately coughing from the burn. “shit,” he muttered, wiping his mouth.

you shook your head, laughing at him. “lightweight.“ “hey!” he protested, pouring another shot, clearly determined to redeem himself. “i can handle it.”

you took a sip of your drink, the heat crawling down your throat as you leaned in, a grin teasing your lips. "so, heeseung,” you started, your voice light, playful. “what’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done? i bet there’s a troublemaker hiding in there somewhere.”

heeseung blinked, clearly thrown off by the question. “wildest thing?” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking like he was actually trying to come up with something. “uh… does passing out drunk at a party and making you carry me home count?”

you shook your head, grinning wider. “nah, that’s just you being a dumbass.”

he laughed, the sound a little looser now as he leaned back in his chair. the alcohol was starting to settle into him, easing the tension in his shoulders. “okay, okay. i’ve done some dumb shit with jay, but nothing… wild. not like you’re thinking.” “really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “not even a single scandalous high school moment? i’m disappointed.” he snorted, shaking his head. “if you’re looking for scandalous, you’re barking up the wrong tree. i’m awkward as hell. you know that.” you leaned in a little more, closing the space between you just enough to make him shift in his seat. “yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t surprise me,” you said, your voice dipping low, teasing, with something heavier lingering beneath it. the atmosphere shifted, the air thickening as you hovered closer. heeseung swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to your lips before darting away again, his nerves clear as day. “i can be full of surprises,” he mumbled, though his tone wobbled, like he wasn’t sure if he believed it himself. “oh yeah?” you leaned back, pretending to think it over, enjoying the way he squirmed. “like what?”

heeseung grabbed his shot glass and downed it like he needed it to survive, the alcohol clearly giving him the little boost of courage he was looking for. “well, i’m here, aren’t i? with you. that’s gotta count for something,” he said, trying to sound casual, but the way his voice wavered gave him away. the nerves were still there, bubbling just under the surface. you chuckled softly, your eyes holding his. “yeah, i guess it does,” you murmured, your words carrying more weight than before, something unspoken, something just on the edge of everything you weren’t saying. the conversation kept going after that, but the energy between you two had changed. it was lighter, more comfortable, the tension from before still there but softened. you laughed together, swapping embarrassing stories and favorite movies, the topics flowing easily. but every now and then, you’d catch him staring a little too long, or feel the brush of his knee against yours under the table, and each small touch sent sparks buzzing across your skin. heeseung fiddled with the empty glass in front of him, his voice dropping, more hesitant. “you know, you’re… different than i expected.” you tilted your head, heart picking up pace. “oh yeah? what’d you expect?” his eyes stayed on the glass, thumb tracing along the rim as he shrugged. “i don’t know… i guess i didn’t expect to feel like this.” “like how?” you leaned in slightly, your curiosity spiking, the tension between you building, thick with something unspoken. heeseung inhaled deeply, lips curling into a small, awkward smile. “honestly? i thought i’d never have a girl interested in me. they’re usually, uh… repulsed.” you blinked, his bluntness catching you off guard. “repulsed? heeseung, you’re not repulsive,” you leaned closer, your words carrying more weight. “awkward, maybe, but in a cute way.”

he let out a short, self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head. “nah, you don’t get it. i’ve had girls literally avoid me. so when you stuck around? i didn’t know what to do.” “well, i’m still here, aren’t i?” your voice softened, leaning in even more. “and i’m definitely not repulsed.” heeseung’s eyes met yours, his face flushing deeper as he tried to process your words. “yeah… i guess you’re different,” he mumbled, voice shaky, like he didn’t fully believe it. you leaned in, your knee brushing against his under the table, the contact sending sparks up your spine. “i don’t think you give yourself enough credit, heeseung. the only person getting in your way… is you.”

heeseung swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to your lips, lingering for just a moment before darting away. “fuck,” he muttered, barely audible. “why do you even like me? i feel like i’m gonna mess this up any second.” you smiled softly, your voice dropping to a whisper. “maybe that’s why i like you. you’re real. awkward, messy, but real.” he ran a hand through his hair, clearly flustered, muttering under his breath, “and a guy who came in, like… seconds.” you bit your lip, trying not to laugh as a flush crept up your neck. “yeah,” you leaned in, your voice teasing, a little bolder. “but i didn’t mind.” heeseung’s eyes widened, snapping to yours, shock and disbelief written all over his face. “you didn’t?” you shook your head, your hand brushing against his lightly. “nope.” you held his gaze, watching him swallow, his breath catching, the tension between you rising. heeseung’s voice came out barely more than a whisper, breath shaky. “i thought you’d hate me for that.” “if i hated you, i wouldn’t be here,” you said softly, your fingers lingering against his. “and i definitely wouldn’t still be thinking about it.” heeseung’s eyes darted down to your hand, then back up to meet your gaze. his lips parted slightly, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. “fuck,” he whispered, the tension in his voice obvious. “i’ve been thinking about it too… a lot.” he shifted, grabbing a pillow to cover the growing bulge in his pants, trying to hide it, but failing miserably. “damn, y/n,” he muttered, torn between embarrassment and the arousal coursing through him. “this again?” you teased, leaning in with a smirk. “gonna jerk off to me in the bathroom again?” heeseung froze, eyes wide as realization hit him like a ton of bricks. “wait… you knew?” his voice cracked as he sat up, completely caught off guard.

you bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “oh yeah, i knew. you weren’t exactly subtle, heeseung. these walls are thin.” heeseung groaned, burying his face in his hands, the pillow slipping from his lap as he practically melted into his chair. “oh my fucking god,” he muttered, voice muffled by his hands. “this is so embarrassing.” “hey, no judgment,” you said, your amusement barely contained. “it’s kinda flattering, honestly.” he peeked through his fingers, still horrified but curious. “flattering?” you nodded, your grin widening. “yeah. at least i know i have that kind of effect on you.” heeseung groaned again, slumping further into the chair, torn between wanting to disappear and being completely turned on. “fuck, y/n…” he muttered, his voice strained with frustration. “i’m starting to think you’re a liar. 'cause it’s like you never get as flustered as i do. shy, yeah, sure… but do i even make you wet?” his voice came out breathless, desperate, searching for reassurance.

the boldness of his question hung in the air between you, thick and heavy with anticipation. your heart raced, your lips parting as you considered your answer.

you raised an eyebrow, surprised by how bold he’d gotten, but the smirk on your lips couldn’t be stopped. “oh, you really wanna know?” you teased, eyes locking with his.

heeseung’s breath caught, but he nodded, his face turning redder by the second, gaze not leaving yours. “yeah,” he whispered, voice so soft you almost didn’t catch it. “i need to know.”

leaning in close, you brushed your lips against his ear, letting your breath ghost over his skin, the tension between you crackling like electricity. “well, let’s just say…” you paused, savoring the moment, then pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes again, your voice dropping low, “i’ve been wetter than i care to admit this whole time.”

his eyes widened, his breath catching, the weight of your words hitting him hard. “fuck,” he groaned, running a shaky hand through his hair, clearly torn between excitement and embarrassment. “why are you so good at this?”

“i’m not,” you murmured, your voice dripping with teasing heat. “i just don’t have a dick to give me away when i’m turned on.”

heeseung let out a breathy laugh, the tension in his body spilling over, but the flush on his cheeks remained. “fuck,” he muttered again, shifting awkwardly, the pillow doing absolutely nothing to hide the obvious. “that’s so unfair,” he whined, his frustration clear in the way he fidgeted. “you just sit there all calm, and i’m over here losing my mind.”

you leaned back, the smirk never leaving your lips. “why don’t we drink a bit more then?” you suggested, your tone playful but laced with challenge, watching the way he struggled under your gaze.

heeseung swallowed hard, clearly debating whether alcohol would help or push him deeper into the mess. “yeah, maybe…” he muttered, his hands trembling as he reached for the bottle again. “fuck, i need to calm down.”

you chuckled softly, amused by how flustered he was. “take it easy,” you teased, raising your glass. “you’re making this way too fun.”

heeseung groaned, downing his shot far too quickly, wincing as it hit his throat. “fun for you, maybe,” he mumbled, setting the glass down with a shaky hand, his face still flushed with heat.

you threw back your own drink, feeling the burn in your chest, but what really made your pulse race was the way he was looking at you now—his wide eyes, the way his lips parted like he was struggling to breathe, that growing desperation in the air between you both. “heeseung?” you whispered, voice trembling with the warmth of the alcohol and the intensity of his gaze. he blinked, like he was trying to snap out of it, but his eyes stayed glued to yours. “god,” he muttered, voice strained like he was barely holding it together. “you’re making it so hard to think straight.” you bit your lip, and his breath hitched, his chest rising and falling in these shaky, uneven breaths. “don’t do that, please,” he practically begged, his voice laced with desperation, eyes squeezing shut as his head fell back, neck exposed, tension radiating off him like heat. “don’t do what?” you whispered, voice soft, fingers tracing slow, teasing circles on his thigh. you pushed the pillow out of the way, and the second your hand made contact, heeseung gasped, the breath in his throat trembling like he was on the verge of falling apart.

“that,” he rasped, his body trembling under your touch, fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. you leaned in closer, your hand drifting higher, watching him unravel beneath your fingers. “i thought you wanted this,” you teased, your lips brushing lightly against his ear. heeseung’s eyes fluttered open, staring at you with this raw mix of desire and desperation. “i do… but you’re driving me fucking crazy,” he whispered, his voice thick with need. “i can’t handle it… not when you’re this close.” “then touch me,” you whispered, voice dripping with temptation, the tension between you suffocating. “don’t you want to?” heeseung’s eyes shot open, wide, filled with disbelief. “can i?” he asked, voice shaky, his hands hovering like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to. “you really want me to?” you nodded slowly, your breath grazing his lips, every part of you buzzing with anticipation. “yes, heeseung… i want you to.”

for a second, he hesitated, but then his hands, trembling, finally made contact, resting on your waist, tentative and careful like he was scared he might break you. “fuck,” he whispered again, fingers tightening on your hips as he pulled you closer, his voice cracking with disbelief. “i can’t believe this is happening.” “what if i cum just from touching you?” he muttered, nervous excitement all over his face, his hands still shaking slightly as they gripped your waist harder. you didn’t even answer, just straddled him, thighs pressing down on either side of his hips, and the second your lips crashed against his, it was like all of his control snapped. heeseung’s arms wrapped tight around you, pulling you against him like he couldn’t get close enough. his kiss was hot, needy, filled with every ounce of tension that had been simmering between you both. instinctively, your hips ground against him, and both of you groaned at the sensation. he broke the kiss, lips trailing down your neck, hot and messy, his breath burning against your skin as he groaned, hips pushing up into yours, hands gripping your waist like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. and then, in one quick move, he lifted you up like you weighed nothing, placing you down onto the bed. the sudden shift made your heart race, excitement thrumming through your veins as he hovered over you, eyes dark and wild with need. but then, just as fast as it started, you saw the hesitation flicker across his face again, that shy, unsure side of him slipping back. his hands hovered just above your body, trembling all over again. “wait, y/n…” he whispered, voice shaking. “i don’t wanna mess this up.” “heeseung…” you whispered, your voice soft as your hands cupped his face, pulling him in close. “you’re not messing anything up. i want this. i want you.” heeseung swallowed hard, eyes locked on yours as if he was trying to process the reality of what you just said. “you’re sure?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, like he still couldn’t believe this was happening. “i’ve never been more sure,” you reassured him, pulling him even closer, your lips brushing against his. he hesitated for a second, breath shaky as he stared at you, then slowly started fumbling with his shirt, his hands trembling. even as he undressed, his eyes never left yours, like he was afraid to break the connection. the intensity in his gaze, even though you were still fully clothed, sent shivers racing up your spine.

when his shirt finally hit the floor, revealing his toned chest, he froze, hovering above you like he didn’t know what to do next. his hands trembled, barely grazing your skin, unsure and nervous. “heeseung,” you whispered again, gentle but insistent, urging him forward. “it’s okay… come here.” “you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled against your neck, his voice thick with need as his lips pressed hot kisses along your skin. his grip on your hips tightened, and you could feel the slight tremble in his hands, his restraint barely holding. “can i take it off?” heeseung’s voice shook with desire as his fingers hovered at the hem of your shirt. the question hung in the air, thick with anticipation. you nodded, giving him the green light, and he wasted no time, peeling your clothes off piece by piece, his breath catching in his throat with every inch of skin revealed. his eyes were dark and hungry, devouring your body. “fuck…” he muttered, voice thick and almost breathless, his fingers grazing your waist, trailing up to your ribs.

“i’ve imagined this…” he confessed, his voice raw and rough, his hands trembling as he unclasped your bra. his eyes locked onto your chest, pupils blown wide as he whispered, “and fuck, you’re even better than i imagined.” his lips trailed lower, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest, his hands wandering down until his fingers found the waistband of your pants. “i need to see all of you,” he whispered, his breath shaky as he slowly tugged your pants and panties down. the way his gaze devoured you made your pulse quicken. once you were completely bare beneath him, heeseung paused, taking in the sight of you with a mix of awe and disbelief. “wow…” he whispered, his fingers trailing up your thigh, the touch light but electric. “you’re perfect.” he settled between your legs, his breath shaky as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, inching closer and closer to your core. “god, y/n…” he groaned, fingers gripping your hips as his nose brushed against your heat. “it’s so pretty… and wet,” he muttered, almost to himself, before dipping his head down and dragging his tongue over your folds. the groan that escaped him was pure need as his lips wrapped around your clit, swirling his tongue in slow, messy circles. "you taste amazing,” he moaned against you, the vibration of his voice sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. he was uncoordinated, his movements sloppy and inexperienced, but the raw hunger driving him made up for it. your hips bucked involuntarily, his groans muffled as he buried himself deeper between your thighs, sucking and licking with frantic desperation.

“heeseung,” you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging him closer as your body arched beneath him. his fingers found your breasts, squeezing with nervous eagerness.

he whimpered against your pussy, his desperation evident in every flick of his tongue. “i want more,” he groaned, voice strained as he latched onto your clit, sucking harder, his movements growing frantic.

“heeseung…” you moaned, your body shaking with the intensity of it all, your legs trembling as you teetered on the edge of release. “fuck, you’re perfect.”

he lifted his head, lips glistening with your arousal, eyes wide and uncertain as he asked, “do you like it? am i doing good?”

your heart swelled at his words, at the vulnerability mingled with his overwhelming need to please you. “yes, heeseung… fuck, yes,” you breathed, fingers tightening in his hair. “you’re doing so good. i love it.”

his face lit up at your praise, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips before he dove back in with renewed determination. his fingers fumbled at your entrance, sliding inside you, hesitant but eager, trying to mimic what he’d seen in porn. his movements were clumsy, but the desperation in each thrust, in every flick of his tongue, was enough to push you closer to the edge.

his fingers pumped in and out, curling inside you as his mouth worked messily over your clit, his body trembling with the effort to make you cum. every whimper, every shaky breath only added to the tension building in your body, sending you spiraling higher and higher.

“heeseung… don’t stop,” you gasped, your voice breathless, pleading. “please—don’t stop.”

“shit, i’m making you cum, aren’t i?” he whimpered against your core, his voice shaky with anticipation. “it's so warm...”

and with one more thrust of his fingers, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, pulling you under. your hips bucked, thighs squeezing around his head as you cried out his name. heeseung moaned against your clit, the sound vibrating through you as he worked his fingers inside you, prolonging the pleasure as long as he could.

“fuck, y/n… you’re so hot,” he groaned, his voice thick with awe as he watched your body writhe beneath him. "so fucking pretty when you cum…”

heeseung’s face was flushed, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he looked up at you with wide, desperate eyes. “did i do good?” he whispered, voice trembling with the weight of everything that just happened. his hips kept grinding against the mattress, searching for some kind of relief, his cock straining painfully against his pants. the sight of him so worked up, so needy, had you biting your lip to keep from giving in too quickly. “you turn me on so much…” heeseung’s voice cracked, overwhelmed by the sight of you. he was a mess, nearly shaking as his need for you grew stronger, and the lust was becoming unbearable. he's so fucking horny. “please, y/n… i need to be inside you,” he begged, his voice raw with emotion. “i can’t… i need you.” but instead of giving him what he wanted, you leaned down, your breath hot against his ear, and whispered, “not yet.” heeseung froze, wide-eyed, panic flashing in his expression as he tried to process what you said. his breathing got shallow, and he almost looked like he was about to break, but before he could speak, you grabbed him by the face and kissed him hard, hot, and breathless. it left him gasping, his hands trembling as they clawed at your waist, desperate to feel you, to have you.

“shit, i can taste myself on you,” you murmured against his lips, and the sound of your voice alone made him moan. His hands gripped you tighter, but every touch felt like it was pushing him closer to the edge, like he was going to lose control at any second. “i thought you—” he tried to say, voice barely holding together.

you cut him off, flipping him onto his back with one swift move, leaving him stunned beneath you, his breath coming in sharp gasps. The way you moved over him, the way your lips trailed down his chest, sent shivers up his spine. “wait,” he pleaded, his hands fisting the sheets as your lips grazed his skin, leaving a burning trail in their wake. “god, if i wasn’t so wasted that first time… it would’ve felt this good.” you smiled against his skin, your tongue tracing a line along his waist as your fingers hooked into the waistband of his pants. heeseung gasped, body tensing in anticipation, completely at your mercy. “i want it to feel better than you ever imagined,” you teased, slowly pulling his pants down. when his cock sprang free, hard and leaking, you hummed in satisfaction, eyes locking onto his as you leaned in, dragging your tongue up from the base to the tip.

heeseung let out a loud, desperate moan, his back arching off the bed. “fuck… oh my god,” he cried out, his voice cracking as pleasure hit him like a tidal wave. “this feels—” he couldn’t finish, his words dissolving into incoherent sounds as you swirled your tongue around the tip, tasting his precum. every flick of your tongue had him trembling, his breath coming out in ragged gasps, his hips jerking up into your mouth uncontrollably. “more,” heeseung begged, voice barely a whisper, body shaking with need. his desperation was clear in the way his fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tight but not pushing—like he was too afraid to break the moment, even though he needed you so badly. you took him deeper, inch by inch, savoring the way he bucked underneath you, his moans turning louder, more frantic. heeseung’s jaw went slack, his head thrashing back into the pillow as he clenched his eyes shut, trying to hold on but clearly losing the battle. “y/n,” he groaned, his voice breaking, raw with need. “how are you—oh my god, this is insane.” his breathing became erratic, his hands fisting the sheets as the pleasure built inside him, spiraling out of control. you could feel him tense, his entire body shaking as the tension mounted higher and higher.

“oh fuck, fuck… i can’t—” he panted, panic edging into his voice as the intensity threatened to overwhelm him. “wait, s-slow down… what if i can’t get hard again—”

but that wasn’t enough to stop you. you took him deeper, your hand stroking him in time with your mouth, driving him closer to the edge with every motion. his moans turned into ragged, broken sounds, his hips bucking up into your mouth despite himself.

“ah, y/n—” heeseung gasped, the tension inside him snapping all at once. his entire body seized, his hands gripping the sheets so tight his knuckles turned white. with one final thrust, he came hard, spilling into your mouth with a loud, desperate moan that echoed through the room. his voice was raw and unrestrained, his mind blank from the sheer intensity of it all.

as he finally looked down, he saw you still between his legs, your lips hovering close to his still-twitching cock. then he heard it—the soft sound of you swallowing, gulping down everything he’d just given you.

“no fucking way,” heeseung whimpered, wide-eyed, voice trembling with disbelief as you licked along his still-sensitive length, your tongue teasing him in slow, deliberate strokes. every touch sent jolts of electricity through his already overstimulated body, but despite it all, his cock stayed hard, throbbing under your attention.

you raised an eyebrow, that playful smirk pulling at your lips as you glanced up at him. “oh? still hard from that?” your fingers wrapped around him, stroking his cock lightly as you spoke.

heeseung’s head dropped back onto the pillow, his hands fisting the sheets. “i-i shouldn’t be… i don’t even know what’s happening,” he groaned, voice thick with pleasure and exhaustion. “but fuck, y/n… that was—holy fuck.”

his breath hitched as you moved, straddling him with an ease and boldness that left him completely wrecked. “don’t tell me you’re gonna— you’re killing me,” he muttered, chest heaving, trying to sit up, his hands reaching for you. but before he could get a grip on anything, you had his wrists pinned down above his head, your hips hovering just above his throbbing length.

“shh…” you whispered against his ear, your voice soft but demanding. “let me take care of you.”

heeseung whimpered, eyes wide and filled with lust and disbelief, completely at your mercy.

“but i… fuck, i want this so bad,” he whined, voice cracking, body practically vibrating with need. “i want you to ride me, but i also want to…”

you silenced him with the smallest movement, pressing your hips down just enough to have him gasping. “you’ve done enough,” you whispered, lips brushing against his ear, making him shiver. “now it’s my turn.”

heeseung’s body tensed under you, his head pressing into the pillow as he watched you take control, watched you slowly lower yourself onto him. “wait…” he gasped, feeling the way your warmth enveloped him, the sensation hitting him all at once.

you rode him slow at first, deliberate in every motion, your body grinding against him with an intensity that had him completely undone. “just like that, please,” heeseung whimpered, voice trembling as he sniffled, overwhelmed.

his hands clenched into fists above him, pinned down by your grip, his hips bucking up to meet your movements, trying desperately to keep up. every squeeze of your warmth around him, every roll of your hips, sent shockwaves through his entire body, his cock pulsing, threatening to push him over the edge again.

“not so fast… y/n,” heeseung begged, his voice breaking, glassy eyes filled with desperation. “your pussy… fuck, it’s so tight—i don’t think i’m gonna last—shit,” he panted, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“am i still making you feel good?” he whimpered, the need for reassurance thick in his voice. “i wanna make you cum…” his words wobbled, dripping with pride and vulnerability, desperate for your approval.

your moans answered him first, loud and unrestrained, and even though that was enough for him, he needed more. he needed to hear it straight from your lips. driven by the sound of you coming undone, he bucked his hips harder, faster, trying to match the rhythm you set, every roll of your hips pushing him deeper.

“you look so good… i love this… fuck, i love you,” heeseung choked out, barely coherent as the words tumbled from his lips. his hips jerked beneath you, wild with desperation, his breath ragged, voice broken. "i love fucking you… you're so wet, make my cock feel so good—" he babbled, eyes half-lidded, entirely mesmerized by the way you moved, by the pleasure consuming both of you.

“i love you,” heeseung repeated, voice raw, thick with emotion. his hands twitched, still pinned down by your grip, desperate to touch you, to pull you closer as his love and need for you flooded every inch of him.

the way you bounced on him, making sure he fucked you deep with every thrust, had heeseung completely shattered. every moan slipping from your lips was like a hit straight to his sanity, and the tight, wet grip of your pussy clenching around him had his vision blurring, his mind spiraling. “fuck, i’m so close—please, please let me cum in your pussy,” he begged, voice trembling, the desperation in every word clear. “i wanna see it spill out of you.”

you leaned down, your breath hot against his ear, sending a shiver through him. “oh yeah? how bad do you want it?” your words teased, but they hit him like a punch, and he locked eyes with you, pleading silently, needing you to take him over the edge, needing you to give him the release he craved.

“so bad… please, it’s all i want—fuck, please!” he sobbed, voice cracking as his hips bucked uncontrollably, his body convulsing beneath you. pleasure and need swirled inside him, almost unbearable, and you still didn’t let up. each roll of your hips, each slow grind, was torture, dragging him right to the brink, his hands flexing, desperate to hold on, desperate for you.

“i’ll even—” he gasped, his chest heaving, “fuck—i’ll eat it out of you, eat my cum out of your pussy once i’m done,” the words tumbling out in a breathless moan as his head fell back against the pillow, lost in the intensity. the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies colliding only added to the heat between you, his mind spinning, overwhelmed by it all but still needing more.

“you're crazy, hee,” you groaned, breathless, “you’d really do that? what else have you been thinking about doing to me?”

his hands gripped your ass tighter, guiding your movements, his hips thrusting up to meet you with a frantic need. heeseung’s breath came in short, ragged bursts, his eyes blown wide with lust. “i think about you all the time,” he admitted, voice hoarse, shaky from how raw it all felt. “every night… thinking about you riding me just like this. fuck—sometimes i imagine you tying me up, keeping me there so i can’t move… and i’d just have to take it.”

he choked on a moan, the fantasy making his body shake beneath you, each confession spilling out uncontrollably. “you’d be in control,” he whimpered, words barely coherent. “make me earn every second i spend inside your pussy…”

the thought alone had him dizzy, his body quivering beneath you. “and then—fuck, i’d be so desperate, i’d cum so fast, but you wouldn’t stop, would you? you’d make me keep going, even when it hurts… 'cause i want it, i want all of it.” his voice cracked, hands shaking as he held onto you for dear life, eyes glazed with pure need.

he was practically vibrating, his whole body humming with arousal, his mind clouded with filthy thoughts that only made him more desperate. “wanna learn how to make you squirt with my mouth,” he gasped. “could spend forever eating your pussy.”

your own arousal spiked at his words, his dirty fantasies making your heart race as you leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “you want me to sit on your face?” you whispered, your voice dripping with teasing cruelty. “want me to smother you with my pussy until you can’t breathe?”

heeseung’s entire body shuddered, his grip tightening on you as he gasped. “yes, fuck yes,” he moaned, voice trembling with need. “please, suffocate me with it. i want to drown in you, taste every inch of your pussy. i’d let you use me until i can’t think straight, i swear. fuck… just… anything.”

you bit your lip, smirking as you watched heeseung completely unravel beneath you. “so you want to be my little toy, huh?” you teased, grinding down on him harder, forcing a loud, broken moan from his lips.

his entire body tensed, head falling back against the pillow as he whimpered, hands clutching your hips with desperate need. “yes, fuck, i’d be anything you want, just use me,” he begged, his voice cracking. “please, y/n… i just want to make you feel good.”

“oh, heeseung,” you cooed, amusement dripping from your voice as you leaned down, kissing him deeply, your tongue teasing his as he moaned into your mouth. “you’re such a good boy, aren’t you? always so eager to please.”

he groaned, trembling as you continued to ride him, the wet sounds of your bodies moving together filling the room. “yes, i just wanna be good for you,” he whispered, barely holding it together.

his words, his submission, his desperation—it only pushed you closer to the edge.

you quickened the pace, grinding harder, faster, driving him to the brink of insanity. the tight, wet heat of your pussy squeezing him had heeseung losing the last shred of control. his breath hitched, his body stiffened beneath you, overwhelmed by the building pressure.

“fuck, y/n—i’m gonna—" his voice cracked, trembling as he begged for release. his hands twitched, desperate to touch you but still pinned down. “please, i can’t—i’m gonna cum,” he whimpered, tears filling his eyes as he stared up at you, completely at your mercy.

but you didn’t stop. pushing him deeper into that maddening pleasure, his hips bucked beneath you uncontrollably. “please, please,” he sobbed, his voice shaking, body trembling as his orgasm hit him like a wave, stealing his breath. “oh fuck, oh god, please—” his moans grew louder, higher-pitched, raw with submission as he came deep inside you, cock pulsing wildly.

“i can’t—i can’t stop,” he cried, tears streaking his flushed cheeks as his hips jerked beneath you, unable to control the way his body responded. “i’m so sorry—no, i’m cumming so much,” his voice cracked, filled with both pleasure and apology as his release seemed endless, his cock twitching violently, spilling more and more inside you.

and the sight of him like this—lost in his own pleasure, tears running down his face, voice shattered—pushed you over the edge.

your body tensed above him, the pressure inside you snapping, and your orgasm crashed through you in powerful waves. a loud, unrestrained moan ripped from your throat, your body trembling as you rode the high, your walls clenching tight around his cock, milking every last drop.

as his orgasm finally began to fade, heeseung was still gasping for air, his body trembling beneath you, completely spent and sensitive. small, broken whimpers escaped his lips as the intensity of it left him dazed, his skin slick with sweat, chest rising and falling rapidly.

even after his release slowed, every slight movement made him jerk beneath you, soft, needy moans slipping out. “y/n…” he whispered, voice shaky, barely able to form words. “i couldn’t stop… you made me… fuck, it was so much.”

his eyes fluttered open, hazy with exhaustion and pleasure, his face still flushed and tear-streaked. when your body settled down on top of his, heeseung’s trembling hands reached up, pulling you close. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, trying to catch his breath.

“i’m so sensitive… so fucking sensitive,” he murmured, voice barely audible, his body shivering beneath you. every small touch sent shocks through him, leaving him overstimulated, yet still craving your warmth, your touch.

heeseung’s grip on you tightened, his arms wrapping around your waist as he held you close, chest heaving against yours. soft, shaky kisses pressed to your skin, his lips brushing gently against your neck. “that was… i don’t even have words…” he let out a soft, breathy laugh, still panting, mind completely blown by everything that had just happened. “i didn’t know… it could feel like that,” heeseung whispered, his voice shaky with disbelief.

“so you love me, huh?” you teased, resting your head against his chest and glancing up at him with a playful smile.

heeseung’s heart stuttered, post-orgasm bliss now mixing with a wave of nervous energy that hit him all at once. his cheeks burned a deep red as he tried to find the right words, arms still wrapped tight around you, like he couldn’t bear to let go.

“i mean… yeah, i guess i did say that, huh?” he mumbled, embarrassment thick in his voice, his eyes darting away from yours for a second, too flustered to meet your gaze.

he bit his lip, trying to hide how hard his pulse was racing, but then, as if he couldn’t hold it back any longer, he shyly glanced back at you. the vulnerability in his eyes was clear, he answers, “but fuck… yeah. i do.” the blush on his face deepened, spreading down his neck, hot and intense. “i love you.”

he let out a small, awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous, clearly unsure of how to navigate this new level of intimacy. “didn’t really plan on confessing like this, though…” he sighed, gaze flickering to the ceiling, face still flushed. “such a dick move, right? confessing during sex…” the nervous chuckle that followed only made his embarrassment more obvious.

his hands rested gently on your back, a bit hesitant, like he didn’t know how to fully relax into this moment. “i didn’t mean for it to come out like that… it just—” he paused, struggling to find the right words, his voice softening, more sincere now. “it felt right… but not because of the sex.” his eyes found yours again, searching your face, his voice a quiet plea. “i meant it, y/n. even if it was the worst possible timing, i really do love you.”

he paused again, his blush darkening, clearly thinking about his premature orgasm from that first time. “god, you could’ve had anyone, and you still decided to tutor me after that mess…”

his words hung heavy between you, and you could feel the rapid thudding of his heart beneath your palm. he was still so vulnerable, even now, as if he couldn’t quite believe that you had chosen to be here with him—his arms wrapped around you, both of you lying together after the most mind-blowing sex of his life.

“heeseung,” you whispered, your voice firm but filled with warmth. “i wanted you then, and i want you now. that doesn’t change just because things didn’t go perfectly.”

heeseung stared at you, eyes wide with disbelief, like he couldn’t quite wrap his head around what you were saying. “really?” his voice was quiet, fragile, like he was afraid to believe it.

“yes, really,” you reassured him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “i love you. you don’t have to be perfect for me to feel that.”

his face lit up instantly, a wide, boyish grin spreading across his face, almost as if he wanted to cry from sheer happiness.

“say it again,” he practically whined, his voice overflowing with joy as he eagerly leaned down to kiss you, lips messy and eager.

you laughed into the kiss, pulling him closer, your heart swelling at the sight of him so happy. “i love you,” you repeated, louder this time, playful. his whole face lit up like a kid on christmas morning, and you could feel his excitement in every touch, every eager kiss, his hands pulling you as close as possible.

“yup, i’m never gonna get tired of hearing that,” he mumbled between kisses, his hands roaming your back, holding you tighter. “say it forever.”

“well, i totally fell in love with you first,” you teased, looking up at him with a playful grin.

heeseung’s smile widened, eyes gleaming with mischief. “i should be thanking you for that, 'cause i would’ve been way too chicken to do anything.” he chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “seriously, i wouldn’t have done shit.”

“was it because of my—” he started, obviously about to crack a joke, but you cut him off with a laugh, shoving him lightly.

“don’t even try it,” you teased, giving him a pointed look. “it wasn’t because of whatever you're about to say.”

he grinned, refusing to drop it. “no, really—was it because of my charm or my amazing… skills?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, even though his red face gave away how flustered he still was.

you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “it’s because you’re awkward, sweet, and everything i didn’t know i needed,” you said, voice softening as you leaned in to kiss him again. “but sure, let’s pretend it was the 'skills.’”

“look at you, mr. confident all of a sudden,” you teased, feeling the warmth spread through you as he relaxed completely, more playful and at ease than ever before.

heeseung shrugged with a smirk. “maybe i’m learning from the best,” he murmured, leaning in for another slow, deliberate kiss. “you bring it out of me, y/n.”

“whatever, hee,” you chuckle, and he groaned softly at the nickname, arms tightening around you as he buried his face in your hair, pressing soft kisses to your forehead.

“a nickname?” he gushed, pulling back just enough to look at you, eyes shining with excitement. “i’m totally your boyfriend now, aren’t i?”

his excitement was contagious, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how happy he seemed. “yes, you’re totally my boyfriend now,” you teased, running a hand through his hair, watching him grin down at you like he was the happiest person in the world.

“fuck, i love that,” he mumbled, his voice filled with pride and affection as he kissed you again, this time slower, savoring the moment. “your boyfriend,” he whispered between kisses.

he pulled back slightly, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “so…” he started, mischief clear in his voice, “can i tell jay you totally made the first move?”

you snorted, shaking your head. “heeseung, you can tell jay whatever you want,” you teased, brushing your hand along his jawline. “i know you just wanna brag that you didn’t cum prematurely this time.”

heeseung blushed, but his sheepish smile was impossible to miss, his eyes gleaming with playful pride. “well… i mean, it’s kind of a big deal, right?” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “i finally made it through without embarrassing myself, so yeah… maybe i will brag a little.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you muttered, laughing softly as you nuzzled into his chest.

heeseung’s grin widened, but then he shifted, his fingers trailing down your side with a teasing glint in his eyes. “oh, but before i do that…” he murmured, sending a shiver down your spine. “remember what i said earlier?” he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“i still want to eat my cum out of your pussy.”

the heat rushed through you, your pulse quickening at his words, and you felt your body tense with anticipation. heeseung’s eyes darkened, filled with lust and longing as he watched your reaction, waiting for you to give him the green light.

“fuck, hee,” you whispered, breathless, your body already responding to the idea. “you’re really gonna do that?”

he nodded, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, breath hitching slightly, eyes flicking up to meet yours, wide and full of anticipation. “if you’ll let me,” he whispered, voice soft and pleading. “i… i want to so bad.” his hands trembled slightly as they rested on your hips, his gaze filled with a mix of awe and desperation.

heeseung’s entire body shuddered as he lowered his gaze, like he couldn’t bear the weight of how much he needed this. “you’re gonna love it,” he whispered. “please… tell me i can.”

you couldn’t resist the way he begged, voice trembling with need, so you nodded, granting him what he so desperately wanted. without hesitation, heeseung kissed down your body, his lips soft, breath hot against your skin. when he reached your core, he paused for a second, taking in a deep breath like he was savoring the moment.

“thank you,” he whispered, barely audible, before his tongue flicked out, tasting both you and the remnants of his cum. the sensation sent a shockwave through your body, making you jerk slightly from the overstimulation. his grip tightened, keeping you steady as his tongue worked slow, deliberate strokes along your slit.

“fuck,” he groaned, eyes rolling back for a second, licking another long, slow stripe. he looked up at you, eyes wide and submissive, tongue covered in the mixture of his cum and your juices. without breaking eye contact, he swallowed with a deep moan, like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. “we taste so fucking good,” he mumbled, diving back in with more eagerness, licking your pussy clean.

your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently, guiding him as he continued, every flick of his tongue sending electric shocks through your body.

the overstimulation was intense, but his desperation to please made it impossible for you to ask him to stop.

heeseung pulled back only when he was sure he’d cleaned every last drop, his lips glistening, chest heaving. “did you like it?” he asked, voice trembling, eyes still wide, desperate for approval.

“yeah, you did so good,” you whispered, still catching your breath.

he smiled, pride swelling in his chest, and he kissed your inner thigh before crawling up to hold you tightly. his body trembled with exhaustion as he collapsed into your embrace.

“come on,” you whispered softly, brushing the hair from his sweaty forehead. “let me take care of you now.”

heeseung blinked up at you, too tired to protest even though you could see he wanted to. “but—”

“no buts,” you teased, kissing him gently. “you’re exhausted. I want to run you a bath.”

he watched you with those wide, trusting eyes as you moved around the room. grabbing his hand, you pulled him to his feet, guiding him to the bathroom. “you don’t have to do this,” he whispered, but the look of gratitude on his face said otherwise.

“i want to,” you insisted, turning on the tap, watching as the water filled the tub. his body was flushed, still trembling from everything that had just happened, mind blown from the intensity.

“sit,” you commanded softly, helping him into the tub. the moment the warm water enveloped him, heeseung let out a soft sigh, leaning his head back, his eyes fluttering shut.

kneeling beside the tub, you ran your fingers through his damp hair, massaging his scalp. he hummed contentedly. “this is nice,” he whispered, voice sleepy.

“you deserve it,” you murmured, kissing his temple. “just relax, heeseung.”

he smiled lazily, reaching for your hand, squeezing it gently. “thank you for this… for everything.”

as he started to drift off, he opened his eyes, a playful glint shining in them. “hey… does this mean i can tell jay now?”

you laughed, shaking your head. “you can do whatever you want, hee.”

grinning like a little kid, he grabbed his phone and, with zero shame, called jay. “hey, jay?” he said, trying to sound casual, but his voice was still filled with excitement. “yeah, you’ll never guess what just happened… nope, no premature shit this time. and guess who made the first move?”

your eyes widened in disbelief, laughter bubbling up. “you’ve got to be kidding me, heeseung,” you muttered, shaking your head.

he winked at you, a cheeky grin plastered on his face as he continued bragging to jay. “told you i’d brag,” he mouthed, clearly proud of himself.

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ju1cyfru1t · 1 year ago

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rottmnt x reader || S/O who bites (out of love and affection obvi)

Rise! Donnie, Raph, Mikey, Leo x Reader (separately)

fluff? :D, gn reader, romantic (established relationship), BITING mmmm, mild swearing

Donnie

- the first time you bite him, he jumps and lets out a loud yelp, “ah! ow! what in the name of-“ then just stares at you in disbelief. absolutely incredulous. and has to take a while to process. why? why- HOW could you do this to him? after all he’s done for you?

- don’t play with him he HAS and WILL bite you back and NOT in a loving way

- he is ALWAYS on his guard

- you go in for a hug? you lean in to kiss him? you turn your head ever so slightly in his direction? his whole body tenses up. you’re giving this boy trust issues. he will physically, STILL GENTLY, push you away with his mechanical spider arm thingies…heaven forbid you bite those too….

- “Do. NOT. Bite me. Y/N.” “…”

- ^— “DO NOT. This is your last warning.”

- “Yes, Y/N. You’re very ferocious and vicious. Now STOP biting me.”

- “Sigh. That is NOT affection, Y/N.”

- “AH! Don’t bite me while I’m working, please…Don’t bite me ever!”

- “If you want to ‘show affection,’ you could just…I don’t know, hug me? or hold my hand? the biting is unnecessary.”

- NOT a fan of the biting at ALL

Raph

- The first time you bite him, “AHH!” he is confused. he does not understand. are you trying to attack him??? do you wanna throw hands??? what did he do to deserve that??? he does not want to throw hands with you

- he really does not see how biting is supposed to be showing your affection but whatever you say 😭

- his skin is pretty thick and rough. I mean you’d really have to sink your teeth in to hurt him so he just lets you. it actually lowkey tickles to him.

- “Careful. Ya don’t wanna bite my spikes.”

- it’s definitely not his favorite thing in the world but he doesn’t mind terribly if it really makes you happy and as long as it’s just you trying to show him love

- chooses to just take it as a sign that you want attention and/or some kind of affection

- would never bite you back tho

- however, I don’t suggest catching him off guard with a nibble cause he might start swingin 🤺 and would feel absolutely horrible abt it

Mikey

- the first time you bite him he’s offended. you’re gonna bite HIM? 🤨 yeah, ok buddy. he just squeaks in surprise and rubs where you bit him, looking at you like ‘😟’ before biting you back. he is taking it personally until you tell him you’re just showing affection cuz you love him soooooo much

- he’s perfectly ok with it then as long as you don’t bite him too hard

- LOVES to give and receive affection anyways so he makes it really easy to bite him when he’s clinging onto you all the time

- always giggles and squirms when you bite him

- returns your bites with kisses all over your face

Leo

- the fucking most dramatic ever

- the first time you bite him he acts like you just shot him

- “OWW!! OWIE! Ugh! Y/N! How COULD you?! BETRAYAL” while gripping where you bit his shoulder and whining like a toddler even though it did not hurt at all and you didn’t leave any sort of mark whatsoever.

- ^ drops the act completely when you tell him it was out of love

- now every time you do it he thinks you’re trying to flirt with him 🤞😔 and I mean I guess he’s sort of-ish right

- honestly he doesn’t really care but definitely teases you about it /ns

- “yeah? do I taste good, Y/N?” /ns!!

- “ow! ok, ok! not too hard!” while giggling

- “mhm…now kiss it better.” makes you kiss where you bit him every time.

——————————————————————————

now I know I ain’t the only one who bites like that 🤨

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yannawayne · 3 months ago

Text

viii. a little death

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: MILD SMUT (will put indicators if people want to skip), Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Suggestive jokes, Doppelgangers AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

 ༻⊰───⋅

The black of his suit bleeds seamlessly into the surrounding darkness, making him appear more phantom than man.

He looks like a living nightmare.

Damian lifts his head just in time to see Batman towering over you, his cape billowing ominously in the night breeze. A cold chill runs down Damian's spine as dread settles heavy in his chest. Of all people, his father was the last person he wanted to find him here like this—vulnerable, exposed, and with you.

Reacting on pure instinct, Damian scrambles to his feet, positioning himself firmly between you and the Dark Knight.

"Father." Damian’s voice is low but steady, though the weight of what’s happening lingers in every syllable. His mind races, knowing that Batman doesn’t recognize you in your vigilante form and likely believes he's cheating on you.

To Batman, this looks like betrayal.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sunday, 12:13 AM - Stark Tower, Gotham City.

The rhythmic clacking of a keyboard filled the room, a steady, almost hypnotic sound that gently tugged you from sleep. You stirred, the tangled sheets wrapping around you like a cozy cocoon. Damian’s strong arms were draped around your shoulders and waist, his warmth a comforting presence as he held you close.

As he shifted slightly, his fingers traced absentminded patterns along your back, a tender caress that sent a soft shiver of relaxation down your spine. You groaned softly, turning towards him and resting your head against his chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath your ear was a soothing, rhythmic pulse, grounding you in the comfort of his embrace.

Across the room, Morgan was propped up at your desk, her messy hair pulled back with a headband, though a few stray tendrils had escaped and framed her face in an untidy halo. Her eyes were fixed intently on the laptop screen, where a Google document was open, filled with lines of text that seemed to flow endlessly. In her free hand, she cradled a steaming cup of coffee, the rich aroma wafting through the room and mingling with the faint scent of the morning air.

After returning to the tower yesterday, you and Damian had practically slept through the entire morning—this one, however...

You groaned, burying your cheek deeper into the pillow as you tried to block out the light from the laptop and her typing.

“You bitch. Do you ever sleep?” you grumbled, your voice thick with sleep as you rubbed your eyes with the heel of your hand.

Morgan gave you a lopsided grin, the steam from her coffee curling around her face like a comforting fog. “Sleep? What’s that?”

You rolled onto your back, stretching your limbs. “That’s usually my line.”

She shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “I know. Just kinda hyper tonight,” she said, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as she continued typing.

"By the way,” she hummed thoughtfully, “what kinks do you think Nightcrawler would have?"

"..."

You could feel Damian’s confusion even before he spoke. "Excuse me?" he blinked at her, squinting as if he’d misheard. “Why on earth would you ask that? And why now, of all times?” “I’m writing fanfic,” she replied matter-of-factly, still typing away. “Ooh! You’re her boyfriend. What kind of freaky stuff do you think her hero-sona would be into?”

You stifled a laugh, propping yourself up on one elbow to enjoy the show. “Choking kink.”

Damian, who had been leaning against the headboard, choked on his own spit. His eyes widened in shock, and his face turned a deep crimson. “What?!”

“Don’t play dumb,” you snickered, reveling in the way his skin turned redder by the second. “I know you knew this one.”

Morgan’s gaze flickered between you two, her expression momentarily blank, though a hint of something inscrutable flashed in her eyes before she quickly shook it off. She returned to her typing, the clacking of keys filling the room once more.

“That’s so basic,” she huffed, eyes narrowed in concentration. “Give me a better one. I need something with a little more flair.”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully. “Bondage, then. Webs, remember?”

Damian's face turned an even deeper shade of red at the mention of webs, his mind clearly racing to process the suggestion.

Morgan’s fingers paused mid-keystroke as she considered your suggestion. A slow, mischievous grin spread across her face. “Web bondage? Now that’s more like it,” she said, quickly typing it in. “I can work with that.”

“I’m surrounded by lunatics,” he muttered.

Morgan grinned wickedly. “Lunatics, maybe, but this is going to be one hell of a fic. And don’t worry, Dames, I’ll make sure Robin gets some action too.”

He shot her a glare. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“There are ships of us already?” you blink, surprised.

Morgan coughs into her hand, an odd twist in her face. “There are ships of everyone these days. People have imaginations that just don’t quit. "

“I had no idea,” you said, blinking in surprise. “What do they call it? SpideyBird? WebWing?”

Damian looked genuinely disgusted. “Why do they even need a name for it? Why are people spending time on this?”

You patted Damian’s shoulder reassuringly, trying to lighten the mood. “At least they’re rooting for us to be together, right?”

Morgan just shrugged off Damian’s reaction and continued to write. “The fanfics of you are pretty fresh. Only around a hundred works so far, but the edits…” She trailed off, her fingers fumbling for her phone with a mischievous grin.

Groaning, you shut your eyes as Morgan’s grin widened.

“Do not show me—” you began, but before you could finish, the audio started blaring from her phone.

Well, come and get it now Come and get it now Baby, show me what you're doing Come and turn around 'Cause it's not just a figure of speech You got me down on my knees It's getting harder to breathe out

“MORGAN!”

She looked up, grinning widely as if she’d been waiting for this exact reaction.

“What?” she laughed, thoroughly enjoying the moment. “You can’t tell me this hot.”

Curiosity got the better of you, and despite your better judgment, you peeked at the screen. The video was a shaky close-up, showing you leaning against a car, your hair tousled and your armor cracked. You were breathing heavily, your head thrown back.

The camera zoomed in slowly, and the lyrics that accompanied it were dramatic and overly romantic, turning the entire scene into something far more intimate than it had ever been. You could almost understand why someone might find it “hot,” but that didn’t stop the wave of embarrassment from flooding through you.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “That is horrible. I was literally on the brink of death. Was that from last night?” “Yeah,” Morgan nodded as she replayed the clip. “Your fans ate it up. Apparently, it’s going viral.”

Damian, who had been eerily silent throughout the entire exchange, finally broke his silence. “Where is that on?”

You immediately yanked your hands away from your face, your eyes wide with disbelief. “No. Don’t even think about it.”

“Tiktok,” Morgan answered casually, a hint of mischief in her tone. To your horror, Damian pulled out his phone

“Don’t you dare!” you warned, but it was too late. Damian was already typing your codename into the search bar.

As the search results loaded, an edit began to play, and you felt your face flush with heat. The chosen song only seemed to amplify the humiliation.

Touch me, yeah I want you to touch me there Make me feel like I am breathing Feel like I am human

Damian, smirked, liked the video, and saved it.

“STOP!”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sunday, 8:06 AM - Gotham City.

"..."

"Why—"

"Don't—" you seethed, sinking deeper into the plush leather seat of Tony’s limousine. The soft leather creaked under your weight as you clenched the armrest, your knuckles turning white. "Don’t even say a word."

Damian pressed his lips together, suppressing a smirk.

His gaze drifted over your outfit—no, the uniform you’d been practically forced into. The Stark Industries cap perched on your head was like a crown of corporate shame, its logo glaring down at you from the brim. Your shirt clung uncomfortably to your torso, the bold emblem stretched so tightly across your chest it might as well have been tattooed on. Even your sneakers were branded with that obnoxious red logo.

You felt like a sellout.

“You look stunning,” Damian said, barely holding back a laugh as he glanced over at you from his seat across the limo.

“Stunning?!” You shot him a scowl, the edges of your mouth twitching downward. “I look ridiculous!”

“Why didn’t you just wear—”

“I couldn’t!” you snapped, jabbing a finger at Morgan. “This fucking ginger goblin threw my clothes out! Now I’m stuck as a goddamn billboard!”

“Oh, boo-fucking-hoo," she mocked, turning to you from her spot in the limo, sprawled comfortably on the cushions. Her fingers casually brushed against the plush fabric as she spoke, “Don’t shoot the messenger. Dad’s idea, not mine. He wanted you to have a ‘fresh look.’”

You turned to Tony, who was lounging at the far edge of the limo, his dress shoes propped up against one of the seats. He was absorbed in his phone, mindlessly scrolling through this week’s gossip. Occasionally, he chuckled to himself, completely oblivious to the steam practically pouring out of your ears.

Fighting the urge to choke-slam him right then and there, you spoke up “What the hell is this all for, anyways?”

Tony peered up from his phone and grinned, “Oh, come on. It’s a marketing move. There’s going to be paparazzi and everything. We thought it’d be fun to put you in our new line of promotional gear.”

“Fun? You think this is fun?!”

“It’s not like we’re asking you to wear spandex,” Morgan snickered, her eyes drifting to meet Damian’s. He shot her a glare in response. “It’s just a little branding.”

“I’d almost rather be wearing spandex,” you grumble, pressing your cheek to the cool glass of the window. Your breath fogs up the surface, creating a clouded view of the city beyond.

Morgan whistles. "That's a sight I'd love to see."

You roll your eyes. The cityscape outside rushes by, a blur of towering buildings and streaks of light blending into a hazy, indistinct swirl. Outside, the world seems distant, almost unreal, as if you're moving too fast to truly grasp any of it.

“By the way, you’re going to hate me, but…” Morgan spoke up again, reaching into her bag. “I also brought a jacket.” She held out a sleek, branded jacket that perfectly matched the rest of the outfit.

You slammed your head into the glass and vowed to burn every Stark-branded item you owned.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sunday, 8:14 AM - Wayne Tower, Gotham City.

Bruce wondered if it was too late to file for unemployment.

He sat at the head of the conference table, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the middle-aged man droning on in a monotone voice. The man's garish mustard-yellow tie jerked awkwardly with each exaggerated gesture, as if trying to bring some life to the dull presentation. His glasses, too large for his face, inched down his nose with every movement, threatening to fall off completely.

“—as you've all been aware, we've been facing issues regarding our stolen drone flight technology due to criminal activity in the—”

The slides projected onto the screen, filled with graphs and charts, were melding into an endless stream of data that felt like it was slowly turning his brain into mush. Bruce barely registered them. Instead, his mind was a million miles away, lost in a fog. He let his attention drift to the ceiling tiles, idly counting the tiny imperfections as the briefing continued.

TICK. TOK. TICK. TOK.

He glanced at his watch, stifling a groan as he saw only a few painful minutes had passed since he last checked. The meeting, as usual, felt like a slog, but today was particularly grueling.

His thoughts kept drifting back to the text he received last night. Damian had invited him to your dress shop appointment today, telling him he would be covering the bill. Without a second thought, Bruce agreed and sent his card over—and if Alfred hadn’t intervened, he might have ended up buying out the entire boutique in his enthusiasm.

Could you blame him?

Much like Selina, you were stubbornly independent—always managing on your own, even when you needed support. It was a trait that made him proud, but it also left him wishing he could be more involved in your life.

If Bruce were a better man, less emotionally constipated as he often chastised himself, he might have reached out more. He might have asked if you needed to talk, offered his support more openly, and bridged the gap that seemed to widen with each passing year.

But he wasn’t that man. He was the one who held back, kept his feelings guarded, and let the distance grow because he didn’t know how to close it.

Adding salt to the wound, Stark would be there too, intruding on what should have been his time with you.

An absolute diva. That man had a way of dominating any room, leaving little space for anything—or anyone—else. It wasn’t just Tony’s overwhelming presence that irked Bruce, but how effortlessly Stark seemed to connect with you.

In just a few months, Tony had managed to get closer to you than Bruce had in years. Where Bruce held back, Tony leaned in, closing the gap he couldn’t seem to bridge.

To make matters worse, Stark had already gotten a head start. Although Bruce would have loved to pick you up himself, he was stuck in this meeting he couldn’t cancel again—he’d already rescheduled it thirteen times.

Which is why, the moment the clock hit 12, he was already on his feet, pushing his chair back and making a beeline for the door.

"Sir, we still need to discuss—" mustard tie stuttered, but his protest was cut short as Bruce, without turning or breaking his stride, raised a hand and dismissed him with a flick of the wrist.

“Contact my secretary if you need anything,” Bruce called over his shoulder, his tone leaving no room for debate. The matter was closed.

“I’ll handle whatever needs to be done tonight,” he said, shutting the door firmly behind him.

And he would. Bruce had already gathered a significant amount of data on Black Mask and the recent robberies plaguing Wayne Enterprises. Although the case had taken a backseat amid the chaos with the spider vigilante, it was time to refocus. The priority now was to tackle what truly needed his attention.

As he stormed through the hallways, the lens of a nearby CCTV camera tracked his movements.

The camera’s feed flickered momentarily. The image on the screen sputtered and glitched, revealing fleeting glimpses of different worlds—flashes of varying times and places. Colors bled into one another, shapes twisted and warped, and for a brief, disorienting moment, the image seemed to fracture, as if reality itself was breaking apart.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the glitching ceased. The feed stabilized, leaving only a faint trace of the anomaly that had briefly unsettled the surveillance system.

Bruce jabbed the button for the ground floor and slid into the elevator.

The lens refocused, but he was already out of sight.

 ༻⊰───⋅

The vehicle glided to a stop in front of a gleaming marble building, and you all stepped out, heading toward the entrance. The interior was as opulent as the exterior promised. Marble floors gleamed underfoot, and glass walls reflected the polished attendants who moved gracefully in their sharp suits. Nearby, customers mingled and laughed, their designer outfits adding vibrant splashes of color to the sleek surroundings.

Your attention was drawn to the sleek signage behind the lobby desk, where a name was displayed in elegant gold lettering.

“La Ouvere.”

French. Expensive. So luxurious it practically oozed excess. Because, of course, this was the place Tony chose.

Grumbling, you adjusted your cap to hide your face.

You couldn’t believe he made you wear company merch to a place like this.

CLAP.

You looked up just in time to see two rough hands slam together in a handshake, the sound sharp and echoing through the lobby like a gunshot. Tony and Bruce exchanged pleasantries, their faces stretched into wide, almost painfully forced grins.

"Bruce! Good to see you," Tony started, his voice oozing with practiced charm. "I’ve got to say, I am a huge fan of your recent striptease at the Iceberg Lounge."

"Ha." Bruce’s reply was tight-lipped. "Tony. Always a pleasure."

The handshake lingered a beat too long, both men gripping each other’s hands like they were trying to see who could squeeze the other’s bones into dust first, daring the other to flinch.

Bruce placed a hand on your shoulder with a fatherly air. “I’m glad you saw great potential in her. I’ve always known her to be quite the achiever from a young age.”

Tony wasn’t about to let that go uncontested. He quickly slid his other hand onto your shoulder, “Well, if anyone’s been pushing the limits and achieving great things, it’s definitely been her.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And it’s all thanks to the support system. After all, it’s not just about talent but the environment that nurtures it.” He gave your shoulder a pat, adding, “Despite the struggles, her aunt raised her well—you just get to reap the benefits. Haha. Not everyone can rely on billion-dollar labs to get ahead.”

“Well, thanks to me,” Tony says, giving your shoulder a shake (again with the shoulders thing.) “I’d say she’s got plenty of both now.”

The testosterone in this room was so thick you could practically taste it.

“Alright,” you shake your head, gently removing their hands from your shoulders. “Lovely. Nice. Wow. Can we like, go inside now?”

Tony tossed you a quick glance and said, “Right. Lead the way.”

Bruce gave a curt nod. “Of course. After you.”

They both reached for the door handle at the same time, their fingers colliding in an awkward, fumbling dance. For a split second, they froze, locking eyes with a mutual glare.

Seconds dragged on, feeling like hours. Neither man budged. Their hands, now tangled together in a bizarre and clumsy struggle, seemed locked in an absurd standoff. Tony’s fingers began to subtly shift, attempting a stealthy maneuver to slip underneath Bruce’s grip. But Bruce wasn’t having any of it. With a deliberate twist of his wrist, he countered Tony’s advance, blocking the move with a firm slam.

Another minute stretched out, each second heavier than the last.

You couldn’t take it any longer.

“Are you two having a staring contest?”

"..."

Tony blinked first, cursing softly under his breath. Bruce’s smirk broadened, twice as smug than usual.

“Oh my god. Just move!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in frustration. “We’re here to shop, remember?”

The two men released the door handle simultaneously as if startled out of their petty contest. Tony stepped aside with a flourish, giving a dramatic sweep of his arm. “After you, mademoiselle.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

“These are the choices given to you by Mister Stark and Mister Wayne. Social event, oui?” the attendant says, her tone professionally neutral despite the clearly forced, fake French accent. She smooths down your black undershirt, ensuring it's perfectly straight before presenting the options.

She holds up the first suit: “Deep scarlet. Rich, saturated color—like fine wine. A luxurious wool blend. Two-piece. Tapered trousers, invisible stitching. Streamlined silhouette. French cuffs.”

Then she displays the second option: “Now, dark silk. Smooth, so smooth—like velvet in night. Classic sheen, very elegant. Three-piece. Also with tapered trousers, invisible stitching. Slim silhouette. Barrel cuffs.”

With a smile, she adds, “Both have their own magic, non? What shall you choose for the grand affair?”

“Uh,” you gape like the peasant you were, eyes darting between the two suits which seem nearly identical apart from their color. You barely caught onto the details the attendant pointed out.

As you wrestle with your decision, snippets of the conversation between the two men outside drift through the curtain.

“Sometimes, a classic black suit just gets the job done,” Bruce interjected. “It’s timeless and professional, never out of place.”

Tony retorted, “Oh, sure, blending into the background is so exciting. Why not go for red—loud, in-your-face, and impossible to ignore? It’s a damn statement.”

Bruce’s voice grew sharper. “I don’t know if you’re the right guy to make that call, considering the atrocity you dressed her in today,” he said, gesturing toward the Stark Industries merch discarded on the couch in the dressing room.

“Uh, says the guy who thinks monochrome is the pinnacle of fashion. Please, get real asshole. This is a hell of a lot better than your boring black blobs. Grow up.”

“You grow up,” Bruce shot back.

You roll your eyes and spot another suit hung up on a nearby wall—a deep emerald green. “What’s that one?”

The attendant perks up. “Ah, cette tenue! I apologize, it slipped my mind. This one was provided by the young gentleman with you. I should have mentioned it earlier.”

She holds the suit up to your chest, carefully examining the fit and adjusting the sleeve to ensure it drapes just right.

“Three-piece suit with pattern. Jacket is single-breasted, notch lapels, welt pocket. The trousers are flat-front, slim fit, with sharp crease. The vest has five buttons, V-neckline, tailored fit. Very technical, very structured.”

You nod, satisfied. “This one. I like this.”

“Oh, magnifique! Excellent choice!”

She quickly helps you into the suit. First, she slides on the vest, adjusting the straps at the back for a snug fit. Next, she drapes the jacket over your shoulders, smoothing out the fabric and aligning the lapels. Finally, she fastens the trousers, making sure the fit is right and the sharp crease is aligned.

You step out from behind the curtains, and every eye in the room locks onto you.

Morgan's face drops. “She chose the puke color.”

"Wow. Thanks. Really feeling the support here," you scoff, adjusting the sleeves.

Turning to Damian, you raise an eyebrow, and it's only then that he truly registers what he's seeing. His expression softens gradually as he takes you in. The hard lines of his face are still there, but now they seem gentler, softened.

You give him a small smile—nothing grand, just a subtle curve of your lips. But you know that even the smallest smile from you is enough to unravel him.

He watches, mesmerized, as you twirl slightly in front of the mirror. The suit hugs your figure perfectly, accentuating every curve.

“This was the boyfriend's pick," you say, flicking and straightening the lapels. Morgan's head snaps up. "I picked it because it matches his eyes, and honestly, I couldn't deal with your guys' arguing any longer.”

"Tt," Damian’s lips curl into a smirk, and he gestures for you to come closer. You step to his side, feeling the warmth of his hand as it rests gently over yours. With a subtle twist of your wrist, your fingers intertwine naturally, fitting together like they've always did.

Tony huffs, shaking his head. “Alright, well, whatever makes you happy. You look snug as a bug, kid.”

“Uh. Arachnid. Not a bug,” you correct him.

Bruce blinks in confusion, his brow furrowing as he tries to make sense of the interaction, clearly missing the joke.

He shakes his head and gestures to a waiting attendant, who approaches with a tray holding three boxes. The attendant opens the first box, revealing a necklace that catches the light and glints brightly. They lift it out, its shine almost blinding, and place it carefully on the counter.

“If you'd like,” Bruce smiles, “I’ve also picked out some accessories for you.”

The attendant then moves to the next box, lifting the lid to reveal a set of matching earrings, which they arrange neatly on the counter. They proceed to the third box, opening it to reveal a bracelet that sparkles just as intensely as the necklace. The attendant sets everything out with careful movements, arranging the pieces in a neat row.

You hold the necklace up to the light, blinded. “This is... a lot of sparkle.”

Turning to the attendant, you ask, “What’s the damage?”

“The necklace is priced at $250,000,” they say with a smile that’s more tightrope than genuine. “The earrings are $150,000, and the bracelet is $300,000.”

You blink, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, the numbers swirling in your head.

“What the actual fuck?” you blurt out, carefully setting the necklace back in its box with the reverence of someone handling a live grenade. “That’s… definitely not in my budget.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just money. If the price is too much, I can always—”

Bruce cuts him off with a grunt. “No need. I already have the check ready.”

"What?!" You turn to Bruce, shaking your head. “No! No one is buying me more than the suit! I appreciate the gesture, but this is way too overboard.”

"It's not that much, beloved," Damian hums, reaching for the earrings and holding them up to your face. "The necklace I bought you for your 18th cost twice of these combined."

Your eye twitches in disbelief. “You... you told me it was of ‘reasonable price.’”

“It was.”

“How much did you pay?!”

Damian remains silent, avoiding your eyes.

“Damian. Thomas. Wayne—”

Before you can finish, Damian calls over one of the attendants with a casual wave. “Excuse me? We’ll take all of this.”

The attendant, looking a bit taken aback but eager to please, nodded quickly and began arranging the items. You stared at Damian, your eyes practically burning and searing a hole through his stupid undercut.

“You can’t be serious!”

Damian simply smirked, leaning closer. “Consider it a small gesture for someone who’s worth every penny.”

As you continued bickering, Morgan’s gaze lingered on the scene, her chest tightening with an unsettling, heavy feeling. She could feel something bitter and heavy rising in her chest, and she turned her eyes away, hoping that if she didn’t see it, she could ignore the way it made her feel, that gnawing ache she wished she could forget.

But then she heard your voice, soft and inviting.

"Morgan?"

It was like a lifeline, pulling her back to the present. She turned to you, forcing herself to meet your gaze.

"Can you tell them that I do not need this?" you asked with a groan, your smile radiating warmth. It was the kind of smile that could light up any room, even as your eyes drifted to the glimmering jewelry with exasperation. “They’re completely insane.”

Morgan forced a small smile of her own, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and shrugged slightly.

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I think they’re onto something. You’re worth every penny. More than any of this could ever show.”

The words came out easy enough, but underneath, she could feel the bittersweet edge of them, something she kept buried deep where no one could see.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sunday, 10:24 PM - The Safehouse, Gotham City.

Shot through the heart and you're to blame Darling, you give love a bad name An angel's smile is what you sell You promised me heaven, then put me through hell

Music played from her speakers. The lab was dimly lit, illuminated only by the soft glow of various screens and the occasional flicker of a monitoring light. Morgan sat at her workstation, the faint blue light of the holographic display casting a ghostly glow on her face. She was surrounded by a sea of tools, schematics, and half-finished projects, but her attention was miles away from the work at hand.

The thought of how you looked at Damian earlier haunts her deep into the night.

Morgan’s fingers tapped absently on the console, her gaze distant and unfocused. She tried to lose herself in her work, hoping the details of her projects would distract her from the ache in her chest. But every time she glanced up at the screen, it felt as if her mind was dragging her back to that moment.

It didn't take a genius to see that she had feelings for you.

Woah, you're a loaded gun, yeah Oh, there's nowhere to run No one can save me, the damage is done

On the screen, the potency of the toxin you were exposed to a day ago was being processed. Ivy's old journal lay open in front of Morgan, serving as a reference for comparison.

As she scanned the data, a troubling pattern began to emerge. The readings were unstable, fluctuating wildly and suggesting incomplete or inconsistent results. Hours melted away as Morgan poured over the data, her eyes darting between the fluctuating graphs and the notes in the journal.

An odd, unknown element kept appearing in the results. It was an anomaly.

"This is not supposed to be here...?" Morgan mumbled, scratching at her head.

The journal’s pages fluttered as she flipped through them, desperately searching for any mention of similar anomalies or clues that might explain the glitch. Ivy’s notes were dense with technical jargon and cryptic observations, but none of it seemed to align with the strange data she was seeing on her screen.

BEEP.

Morgan’s head perked up, her attention snapping back to the screen. The familiar, rhythmic pulse of data had been interrupted by a sudden alert.

Element Detected: 𝑜̥̊⃝𝑠̥̊⃝𝑏̥̊⃝𝑜̥̊⃝𝑟̥̊⃝𝑛̥̊⃝

She squinted at the glitching display. The screen flickered and distorted, displaying an unfamiliar string of characters. The text was unlike anything she had ever seen before.

The computer screen continued to flicker violently, lines of code merging into chaotic patterns. Cursing under her breath, Morgan fought to stabilize the screen. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, desperately trying to recalibrate the system.

After a tense few moments, she managed to clear the worst of the glitching. The flickering subsided, and the screen settled into a more manageable state.

Was that someone trying to hack in? The thought crossed her mind with a jolt.

She scrutinized the security logs, reviewed firewall activity, and cross-referenced access records, but found no concrete evidence of a breach. The logs were clear. Everything seemed normal—no unauthorized access, no signs of tampering.

But the unknown element was still there, stubbornly staring back at her from the screen.

Morgan ran her tongue over her teeth, a habit of hers when deep in thought.

Alright. So. Every sci-fi movie warns against messing with unknown chemicals. And this is definitely one of those “don’t touch” moments. But what’s life without a little risk? Besides, it’s not like she hasn’t faced weird before.

Problem was… the data on her screen right now was like trying to read a recipe from a cookbook that had been chewed up by a dog—completely useless. If she wanted answers, she’d have to get a closer look.

Morgan quickly set up a new data extraction protocol, isolating the unknown element. The process was slow and tense, but gradually, the substance began to take shape on the screen, its properties becoming clearer with each passing minute.

Once she had successfully isolated the element, she moved on to the next phase: synthesizing it into a serum. With a gloved hand, she carefully heated a glass flask on a burner and began adding the unknown element to the mix, watching as the contents started to react.

The silence was abruptly shattered by a sharp crack that split the air. Morgan’s eyes widened in shock as she saw thee glass flask on the burner shatter into jagged pieces. The once-clear liquid inside had turned into a dark, burned residue, and what was left was a blackened crust coating the inside of the flask.

"Great. Just great," Morgan muttered under her breath. She reached for the shattered glassware, cradling it gingerly in her hand. But as she did, something bizarre began to happen—the flask itself seemed to glitch.

The glass started to flicker and warp as if it were a malfunctioning image. It shimmered and pulsed with an otherworldly light, surface fading in and out of focus, struggling to maintain its form.

"What the fuck?"

Her eyes stayed glued onto the flask. The constant flickering was starting to give her a headache, a dull throbbing that grew more intense with each passing second. She squinted, hoping to stabilize her vision, but the distortions only seemed to worsen.

Amid her growing confusion, she started to hear faint whispers—strange, disjointed voices that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. The whispers were so low she could barely make out their words, but their presence added to the sense of disorientation that was creeping in.

An unexpected impulse tugged at her—a sudden, inexplicable urge to take the serum. Her hand trembled slightly as she considered the syringe lying on the nearby counter, a dark thought creeping into her mind.

She stared at the flask, her gaze mad.

A part of her wanted to see what would happen if she followed through with the intrusive thought.

Then, in a sudden, jarring shift, the erratic glitching reached a peak. The flask’s distortion became so intense that Morgan could barely make out its shape. She snapped back to reality, jolted by the sheer intensity of it all. Her senses were overwhelmed, the whispers louder now, almost shouting in her mind.

In shock, her hand lost its grip. The flask slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor, the blackened remnants scattering across the lab.

CRASH!

The sudden noise of breaking glass cut through the disorienting haze, and Morgan’s breath came in ragged gasps as she stared at the mess before her.

The strange impulse had vanished as abruptly as it had appeared.

The glitching that had plagued the flask started to spread outward, expanding like a ripple through the air. Her eyes widened in disbelief as the distortion grew larger, forming a swirling vortex in the center of the lab.

The portal-like disturbance expanded further, and out of it, a shadowy figure began to emerge. First, it was just a hand, reaching through the glitching void. It grasped at the air, solidifying into a more defined shape. Morgan's heart raced as the figure pulled itself further into the lab.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, as the figure's hand closed around her arm. The touch was cold and otherworldly, sending a shiver down her spine. She struggled against the grip, her heart pounding as she tried to pull away.

With a sudden, violent shove, the figure tossed her back. Morgan crashed into her workstation, slamming painfully into a shelf, sending tools and equipment clattering to the floor.

Her eyes darted back to the figure, now fully emerging from the glitching portal.

The intruder was clad in dark green armor, nearly black in the dim light, with a purple shawl draped over their shoulders and a hood shadowing their face. They wore goggles and a mask that concealed their features, lending them a menacing, almost robotic aura. Despite their height and build matching Morgan’s, there was a palpable strength in their movements, an unspoken threat in the way they stood.

The portal behind them flickered and closed, sealing off the strange rift from which they had emerged.

Morgan scrambled to her feet, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She clenched her fists, trying to steady herself as she faced the intruder.

“Who the fuck are you?!” she demanded. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but she stood her ground, ready to fight if she had to.

The masked figure remained silent, their gaze—hidden behind those reflective goggles—locked onto Morgan. They slowly tilted their head down, taking in the sight of the shattered remnants scattered across the lab floor.

Morgan followed their gaze and noticed the scattered pieces of a hoverboard. She recognized it immediately from the fragmented components. The design was eerily similar to the one she had in development herself—a project that had been pushed to the back burner.

The intruder’s attention then shifted to the broken glass and the unknown element still displayed on her screen. A soft click of disapproval escaped from behind the mask as the figure nudged the broken hoverboard aside with a booted foot.

“Shame,” they murmured, their voice low and laced with something almost like regret. “I came a minute too early... You should have taken that serum first. You were supposed to. It would have made this easier for both of us.”

Morgan swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know what they meant, but she didn’t want to find out. The figure took another step closer, closing the distance between them.

“Who are you?” Morgan pressed. “And how did you even know about that?”

The figure paused, considering her for a moment before answering. “Who I am isn’t important. What matters is what you could have been—what you were supposed to become.”

Morgan’s mind raced as she tried to make sense of the cryptic words. This wasn’t just about the serum—there was something bigger at play. She took a step back, trying to put more distance between herself and the intruder, but the figure only followed, matching her movements like a shadow.

“Don’t worry,” they said softly, almost mockingly. “I should know better than anyone that you would want answers.”

Morgan’s heart skipped a beat as the figure’s gloved hand slowly reached up to their mask. The tension in the room was suffocating, each second stretching out endlessly. The mask and goggles came loose with a soft click, and as they were removed, Morgan’s breath caught in her throat.

It was her.

Her own face stared back at her, a perfect reflection, yet not. There were differences—subtle but unmistakable. The other Morgan’s eyes held a cold, calculating gleam, their hair was longer and pin-straight compared to her short curls, and their lips curved into a smirk that sent a shiver down Morgan’s spine.

“I'm Morgan Stark,” the doppelgänger said, voice eerily familiar yet laced with something darker, something twisted. “But in my universe, they call me the Green Goblin.”

Morgan felt numb. The words didn’t make sense, and yet they explained everything.

“What... what do you want?” Morgan’s voice was barely above a whisper, the shock of seeing her own face—so twisted and malevolent—making it hard to think straight.

The Other Morgan—the Green Goblin—tilted her head, studying Morgan with a mix of amusement and pity. “Isn’t it obvious?” she said, taking a step closer. “I’m here to make things right. In my world, I perfected the serum. I became something more, something powerful. But in this universe, you... you were just about to throw it all away.”

Morgan shook her head, trying to process the flood of information. “This... this isn’t possible. How can you—”

“Exist?” the Other Morgan interrupted, a cruel smile curling on her lips. “Multiverse theory, sweetheart. Infinite versions of you, of me, of everyone. Even our beloved Spidey. In my universe, I figured it out. Became a goddamn genius... and a bit of a monster, too. Here though? You’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“I don’t care what I—you’ve done in your world!” Morgan’s voice shook with defiance. “You don’t belong here. You won’t get whatever it is you’re after.”

The Other Morgan smirked. “Oh, but I already have. I didn’t come here to take anything. I came to see what I could have been if I hadn’t chosen the path I did. And honestly,” they scoffed, flicking a piece of Morgan’s hair, “I’m disappointed.”

Morgan’s fists clenched at her sides. “Get out,” she spat, her fear giving way to anger. “Get out of my lab, out of my life. Now!”

But they just laughed, a chilling sound that echoed in the small space. “You still don’t get it, do you? I’m not going anywhere. I didn’t come all this way just to walk away empty-handed. If you won’t take that serum, then...”

Before Morgan could react, her doppelgänger lunged toward the remnants of the shattered serum with blinding speed. Morgan scrambled to intercept, but her doppelgänger was faster. In a swift, brutal motion, they slammed Morgan down onto a nearby table, the impact knocking the wind out of her.

Morgan struggled against the hold, but her alternate self was stronger, pinning her down with ease. The twisted grin never left their face as they reached for a syringe.

Morgan watched the charred solid remnants of the serum begin to twitch and quiver, as if responding to the presence of the syringe. To her horror, the blackened crust slowly liquefied, transforming back into a thick, dark fluid that oozed toward the tip of the needle.

"Shh," the Other Morgan cooed, voice dripping with mock tenderness as they drew the serum up into the syringe. The liquid swirled ominously inside, as if alive with a malevolent intent. “You’ll thank me for this in the future.”

Morgan thrashed, trying to break free, but her alternate self only tightened their grip, leaning in closer.

“Don’t worry,” the Other Morgan whispered, bringing the needle closer to Morgan’s skin. “This is a canon event, sweetheart. This is the part where you become more than just a bystander. This is where you become unstoppable.”

They leaned down, eyes glowing an eerie green. “This is where we kill Robin.”

“No!” Morgan's scream pierced the air as she slammed her knee into her doppelgängers gut, the sudden impact causing them to stumble back.

The Other Morgan staggered backward, clutching their midsection with a pained gasp. Morgan seized the moment, pushing herself off the ground and scrambling for any advantage. Her pulse raced as she darted towards a nearby workbench, grabbing a wrench and holding it defensively.

Scoffing, the Other Morgan recovered quickly, rising to their full height with their long hair cascading over their face, obscuring their features.

"First off, I’m not some fucking homewrecker," Morgan gasped, her breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts as she took a defensive step back, wrench clutched tightly. "And second, you’re insane! Spider’s happy with him! Do you honestly think she’ll fall for you after everything you’ve become?"

“You think you can stop me?” Other Morgan snarled. “You have no idea what you’re up against.”

“I know enough,” Morgan said through gritted teeth, trying to steady her trembling hands. “And I’m not going to let you hurt anyone.”

The Other Morgan’s lips curled into a smirk.

With a swift flick of their wrist, they threw a small device onto the floor. It hissed and released a dense cloud of smoke that quickly filled the room. Morgan’s vision blurred as she squinted, trying to make out the figure through the thickening haze.

Suddenly, a sharp, electric crackle pierced the smoke, followed by a powerful jolt that knocked Morgan off her feet. The room spun around her as she struggled to rise, her head throbbing from the shock.

Before she could fully recover, she felt a tightness around her wrist. She looked down to see a watch strapped onto her, its face glowing ominously. As she tried to make sense of it, a swirling portal began to materialize around her, its edges flickering with an eerie green light.

“Why don’t you take a trip to my universe for a bit?” the Other Morgan taunted, their voice dripping with malice. “I’ll handle things here while you’re gone.”

Morgan tried to protest, but the portal’s force was too strong. The edges of her world warped and twisted as she was yanked into the swirling void.

As she disappeared into the vortex, she heard a faint, mocking laugh.

The portal closed with a swoosh, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

The Other Morgan turned their gaze to the workbench, their eyes locking onto a pair of scissors lying casually on the counter.

“Alright,” they said with a chilling smile, “first, a haircut.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

They say you’ll be bitten by spiders no less than 500 times in your lifetime, and you probably won’t even notice 95% of those bites.

Spiders might not affect most people that much.

Damian, however, would have a different opinion. He’d also like to punch those people in the face

Tonight, as Robin swings through the city, his gaze is locked onto you. You dart between skyscrapers with a grace that seems almost effortless. Your Starktech suit, still in for repairs, has you back in your old black kevlar—sturdy, reliable, and showing signs of wear.

Damian, out with you for what was supposed to be a routine patrol and sweep, is seeing your skills up close for the first time. He watches as you maneuver through the urban jungle with an ease that both impresses and frustrates him.

He finds himself pacing alongside your swings, trying to stay close—not just to keep an eye on you but because he’s half-expecting to be called into action at any moment. Watching you is like witnessing a high-wire act where the safety net has mysteriously vanished. Moments ago, you executed a daring twist and jump that had Damian’s heart lodged firmly in his throat. He was practically holding his breath, bracing himself for the sickening thud of a broken leg—or worse—only to see you land on your feet with a carefree laugh.

But then, without warning, you yelp and take a sharp turn, diving into the open air. The sudden change sends a jolt through Damian, and his heart skips a beat as he watches you fall fast.

“Nightcrawler!” he shouts, his voice barely audible over the rush of wind. His grappling hook fires with a crack, and he rockets toward you, every muscle straining as he fights the pull of gravity.

Just as you’re about to hit the ground, Damian’s gloved hands wrap around your front, pulling you into his arms with a fierce grip. He tucks you close, bracing for impact. You slam against the wall of a nearby building with a jarring thud, Damian’s boots taking the brunt of the landing. The impact shakes him to his core, but he holds you tightly, shielding you from the collision.

Heaving, he immediately tucks a strong arm against your back, holding you against him. “Are you—”

You burst into laughter, your arms wrapping around his neck as you press your cheek against his. “Did you see that? I pulled off a perfect dive!”

Damian’s breath comes in sharp bursts as he steadies you both, his eyes scanning for any signs of injury. “You imbecile! What were you thinking? You could have broken your neck.”

You pout playfully, brushing a stray lock of hair from Damian’s mask. “I was having fun! Come on, I wasn’t actually going to fall.”

Damian shoots you a glare that borders on murderous. "Fun?! Fun isn’t worth risking your life."

His fingers dig into your hips as he continues to hold you tightly against him, his muscles tensed like a bowstring. "And you did fall—nearly landed on your face. If I hadn't been there, you'd be eating through a straw right now."

You tilt your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Uh. But you were there.”

Damian narrows his eyes, his tone dripping with frustration. "Do you get some perverse pleasure out of scaring me to death?"

"Maybe," you drawl with a teasing grin.

Even with his anxiety cranked up to eleven, he can’t help but feel a surge of warmth for you. The irritation in his eyes softens, revealing a flicker of affection.

“You talk and do too much,” he grumbles, though his actions speak louder than his words. As he starts to guide both of you up to a nearby rooftop, his grip remains firm and protective.

He’s climbing with you in his arms, every muscle straining under the effort. You can’t help but whistle at the impressive display of strength, watching as his muscles ripple beneath his suit with each movement.

“Tsk,” he scoffs as he hauls both of you up onto the rooftop, setting you down gently.

Once you’re safely on solid ground, Damian steps back, creating a respectful distance between you. As he stands against the backdrop of the city lights, his figure is dramatically framed by the glowing skyline. His cape flutters behind him like a dark, billowing flag, enhancing his imposing silhouette. Robin stands tall, masked, and cloaked in shadows—dark and lean.

You grin coyly at him, your arms tucked behind your back as you take a few steps closer.

“My hero,” you tease playfully, your fingers trailing gently up his cape.

The gesture almost immediately disarms Damian, his irritation momentarily forgotten.

He snatches your hand away from the fabric, his fingers wrapping around yours in a firm grip. “Is this a joke to you? I am in no mood for your games tonight,” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair as he turns his gaze to the city skyline. He bends down, squatting on the rooftop, the city lights shimmering below and casting a soft, ambient glow over the scene.

You follow him, bending down to wrap your arms around his shoulders and drape yourself across his back. Leaning in, you press a soft kiss to his jaw through your mask, the gentle touch warm against the cool night air.

Damian’s shoulders relax slightly under your embrace, and he closes his eyes momentarily, savoring the closeness. For a moment, he considers chastising you, but the feel of your body pressed against his back makes the words die on his lips.

Instead, he lets out a sigh and shifts his position, guiding you so that you slide down his back into his lap, your legs draped on either side of his hips.

“You know,” he murmurs, “you’re not making it easy to stay upset with you.”

“That’s the point,” you whisper, your breath warm and teasing against his skin.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he says, moving to stand and pulling you up with him.

You giggle, your fingers trailing down his chest, light and teasing. Your claws graze over the contours of his suit, scratching at the armor that covers his chest and abs. The sensation is electric, sending shivers through both of you.

“Careful,” Damian rumbles, his voice a low growl as he grabs your hands once they reach his waist, his grip firm but not unkind. You’re getting a rise out of him, in more ways than one.

You lean in closer, wickedness dripping from your lips. “When have I ever been careful?”

Damian’s eyes narrow, the heat in his gaze intense as he draws his face inches from yours. "You never are. You are a reckless, impulsive, and downright idiotic woman."

“Yeah,” you press your chest against his, your voice low and teasing. “I get that a lot.”

"And you just love proving them right, don’t you?" he says, his voice low and laden with both warning and something else.

“Is that a threat, Robin?” you whisper, your voice dripping with challenge. Flicking your wrist up, you web his chest and pull him down.

He crashes into you, his body pressing against yours. His hands fly to your thighs, gripping the supple flesh there.

A smirk spreads across his face. "Merely a promise."

Without another word, Damian tugs your mask off and closes the distance between you, his lips crashing onto yours in a fierce, heated kiss. His mouth moves with a possessive intensity that sends a shiver down your spine, his tongue teasing yours as he pulls you closer, leaving no space between your bodies.

You feel the low rumble of his moan vibrating through your chest, a sound that only fuels the fire between you. As your hands tangle in his hair, you suddenly notice something that makes you pause—he’s smirking against your lips.

He’s smirking. The fucker is smirking.

Grinning against his lips, you pull back just enough to murmur, “So my Spidey thing turns you on? Or is it the webs?”

"Keep talking like that and I'll have to shut you up," he grunts, his voice rough with desire before he silences you with another kiss, this one deeper, more consuming. His grip tightens as he claims your mouth again, leaving no doubt about the effect you have on him.

He presses you back, and in the heat of the moment, you take a step backward with more force than intended. Your injured ankle lands awkwardly, sending a jolt of pain shooting up your leg. Despite being healed, it still ached every now and then, and this was one of those painful reminders.

You pull away with a sharp hiss, unable to stifle the reaction.

Damian's concern for you immediately eclipses his previous frustrations. His hands find your hips, steadying you to prevent you from putting too much weight on the injured foot.

“What happened? Did I—”

“It’s just,” you wince, carefully adjusting your stance, “just my ankle. It’ll be fine.”

"I thought you said you were healed," he fusses.

"Guess I thought wrong."

"I wouldn’t have let you out with me tonight if I’d known you were still having trouble. You should have told me it was still bothering you." he scolds.

You frown, your voice softening as you look up at him. "I just... I just wanted to spend time with you. Are you mad?"

Damian’s expression softens with an almost pained look as he carefully gathers you in his arms, lifting the weight off your injured ankle.

"Mad? No, I'm not mad," he hesitates then, his grip on you tightening slightly. "But I'm worried. I worry about you, and your actions tonight didn’t exactly ease my concerns."

He looks down at your ankle, gently tracing his fingers over the injury.

“I’m sorry. This is my fault. If I hadn’t—Last night, if I’d just taken time to ask you—you wouldn’t be hurt in the first place,” he whispers, his voice barely audible as he brings his face close to yours. The apology is raw, and when he mutters it against your lips, his breath hitches in his throat, overwhelmed by the warmth in your eyes.

“You had your reasons; it’s okay,” you say with your usual forgiveness, the kindness in your voice a balm to his aching conscience.

His fingers gently graze the back of your neck, the touch tender and almost reverent.

“I should have been more careful,” he murmurs, thick with regret. “I’ve let my anger cloud my judgment.”

“Damian, it’s fine,” you said, running your fingers through his hair and gently swinging your legs. “I trust you. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. We all have our moments, and it was just a bad time for both of us. I love you, and I trust you.”

Damian made a soft sound. Up close, in his arms, there was no space between you, and he seemed softer, more touchable.

“I love you too.”

You cupped his face gently as his other arm slid below your head, pulling you even closer. His strong arms enveloped you, holding you in a way that felt perfectly right—moving closer, exchanging breaths, and locking eyes to see everything there was to know about him.

 ༻⊰───⋅ smut begins

Whispering his name, you kissed him again, and he eagerly returned the gesture.

He guided you into a shadowed corner, his kisses growing more urgent and insistent as he pressed you against a wall. The world around you began to dissolve into a swirling haze. The only sensations that mattered were the feel of your breath mingling with his, the whisper of your voice against his, and the way your hands tugged at his hair.

You. You. You.

His tongue brushed against your lower lip, asking for entrance, which you granted immediately, opening your mouth and deepening the kiss. His hands roamed over your body, mapping the curves and contours like a blind man seeing the world for the first time.

You raised your knee and pressed it against him, eliciting a groan from Damian, his eyes rolling back into his skull. “Fuck…”

You teased softly, “That good?”

“As always, habibti.”

Damian’s words were swallowed by another kiss as you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him even closer, bodies pressing together in an intimate embrace.

His fingers roamed up your back, tracing the curve of your spine with the practiced touch of a man who knows you intimately.

Smirking wolfishly against your lips, Damian slowly dragged down the zipper on the back of your suit. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, amplifying every sensation as he worked his way down.

The heat between you two quickly spiraled into an unstoppable force that surged and twisted.

His utility belt falls to the ground with a loud clang, the buckle hitting the asphalt. Fingers trembling with impatience, Damian tugs at his suit's zippers, each one loosening with a sharp hiss before he dives back in.

Every touch, every movement, seemed to ignite a deeper craving within him. Each time you breathed his name, it was like a spark that fueled his losing control, pushing him further into the abyss of his desire.

He wanted more of you—every part of you, every inch of your skin, every breath you took.

He dips his head down, his mouth finding the pulse point on your neck. His tongue flicks out, hot and wet against your skin, as he begins a trail of kisses down your collarbone that sears into your skin.

"I need to feel you, sweet girl." Damian's words come out in a guttural moan, half-curse, half-plea.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his mouth found your chest, and you arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him.

“Damian,” you gasped, your voice a low moan. “Please.”

A flurry of movements passes, and finally, he's pressing himself into you. Your body welcomes him like it was always meant to be, fitting together perfectly as if he was always meant to be a part of you.

His cape falls over you, enveloping you both in a cocoon of shadows and heat.

The rhythmic movement of your bodies creates a slow, intense friction between you. The heat between you two was scorching, each touch and caress creating sparks of pleasure that shot through your body. Damian's teeth sank into the soft skin of your neck with a possessive fervor, leaving behind marks that would linger long after the night was over.

He could feel you pressed against him, your warmth melding with his. The taste of you lingered on his lips, the flavor of you lingering with every kiss. The sweet sounds of your pleasure, your moans and gasps, filled and echoed in his ears. The scent of your perfume, intoxicating and familiar, drifted in the air, consuming, overwhelming his senses and pulling him deeper into you.

It was all you. Everything was you.

It comes in waves, each one building and cresting until the final surge pulls you completely out of orbit. Your toes curl, your thighs lock, your heart seems to freeze, and a cry of his name escapes your lips, echoing in the space between you.

“Yes,” Damian pants out. “There you go, habibti. Just like that…”

He buries his face in your neck, his breath hot and uneven against your skin as he follows you through the aftershocks. Gently, he guides you down from your peak, his hips rolling slowly against yours until the rhythm gradually subsides. He murmurs love confessions in Arabic, lips trailing loving kisses over every inch of exposed skin, soothing you as you twitch and tremble in his lap.

As the aftershocks subside, Damian gently lifts you and tucks you against his chest.

"You okay?" he asks, soft and filled with concern. He gently massages your lower back, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your skin.

He pulls his cape around you like a blanket, wrapping you in a layer of warmth. Even in the middle of the night on a secluded rooftop, he’s focused on making sure you're cared for and cozy.

Damian adjusts his suit and re-secures his utility belt. Taking a cloth from his belt, he begins to wipe you down, removing any lingering traces of the night’s events. Once you're clean, he carefully tugs your suit back on, smoothing out any wrinkles and zipping it up with steady hands.

 ༻⊰───⋅ smut ends

“Thank you,” you rasp out, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

Damian’s response is tender; he nuzzles his face into your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to your skin. His touch is warm and reassuring. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieves your mask and hands it to you.

You tug it back on, but before you can pull it down completely, Damian leans in and kisses you. Smiling, you kiss him back, the mask only partially covering your face, leaving your lips and the lower part of your cheeks exposed.

!!!

You slowly push Damian back, a sense of alarm creeping into your consciousness.

!!!

A loud thud echoes in the distance.

DANGER.

Before you can process what’s happening, Damian is violently knocked away from you. He’s flung onto the ground with a forceful crash, the impact sending a shockwave through the rooftop. You watch, breathless, as he hits the surface hard, pain etched across his face.

Cursing, you try to move toward him, but a sudden, chilling presence makes you freeze. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the dark, sweeping fabric of a cape fluttering through the air. Your heart skips a beat as you turn, dread coiling in your stomach.

Batman.

For a moment, the world narrows to the figure looming before you, the embodiment of shadow and fear. The distant hum of Gotham fades, leaving only the thudding of your pulse, loud and insistent in your ears. The scattered light from the city below creates jagged contrasts on Batman's armor, casting him in sharp highlight. The black of his suit bleeds seamlessly into the surrounding darkness, making him appear more phantom than man.

He looks like a living nightmare.

Reacting on pure instinct, Damian scrambles to his feet, positioning himself firmly between you and the Dark Knight.

To Batman, this looks like betrayal.

Bruce's hurt gaze flickers briefly to Damian before settling on you, his eyes unreadable beneath the shadowed cowl. His voice cuts through the silence like a blade, deep and gravelly. “Step aside, Robin.”

Damian doesn’t budge, his chin lifting in stubborn refusal. “No.”

“I won’t repeat myself,” Bruce warns, his tone colder, more commanding. “Move. Now.”

“You don’t understand,” he snaps back, voice laced with urgency. “It’s not what you think.”

“Isn’t it?” Bruce’s gaze hardens as it shifts back to you, scrutinizing every detail of your vigilante form. He’s searching for something—anything—that might give him a clue to your identity. “Who are you?”

You remain silent, your mind racing to assess the situation. Revealing your true identity isn't an option—not now, not like this. You adjust your stance, preparing yourself mentally for whatever comes next, but Damian's presence in front of you is a steadying comfort.

“She’s with me,” Damian states firmly. “That’s all you need to know.”

But Bruce isn’t swayed. He takes another step forward, his towering form casting a long, ominous shadow over both of you. The authority he exudes is almost suffocating, a force that demands obedience and submission.

Bruce’s voice drops to a near growl, heavy with warning. “You’re making a mistake.”

Damian doesn’t waver, his stance firm, his resolve unshaken. “Maybe I am. But it’s my mistake to make. I’m not moving. Not until you understand—”

“Understand what?” Bruce’s voice, though controlled, cracks with an edge of hurt. “That you’re risking everything for—” His words catch in his throat, and his eyes, now seething, lock onto you with anger. The unspoken words hang in the air, heavy and accusing, as if he’s struggling to comprehend how Damian could make such a choice.

“Father,” Damian tries again. “Just listen, please. I’m not—”

But Bruce cuts him off sharply. “I don’t want to hear it, Robin. Stand down. Now.”

Damian grits his teeth, his jaw clenching at the command. “I won’t. You want me to move, you're going to have to make me.”

Bruce growls and his posture shifts, his body tensing as he readies himself for combat, cape swirling with a sudden, sharp movement, the dark fabric creating a menacing silhouette against the night sky. Damian rolls his shoulders.

The silent acknowledgment of the fight to come is all that’s needed.

The first move comes fast and brutal—a sweeping kick aimed at Damian’s legs. Damian barely manages to sidestep, but the force of the attack sends him stumbling slightly.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Bruce presses his advantage. He lunges forward, delivering a powerful punch to Damian’s jaw. The blow connects with a sickening thud, causing Damian to gasp and stagger backward. He tries to recover, swinging a fist toward his father, but Bruce is already moving, effortlessly deflecting the strike and countering with a sharp elbow to Damian’s ribs.

Before Damian can recover, Bruce is on him again. He grabs Damian by the collar and delivers a powerful knee to his abdomen. The impact sends Damian sprawling, crashing hard onto the rooftop. The concrete shudders beneath him, and he struggles to get to his feet, gasping for breath.

“You’ve forced my hand. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to,” Bruce seethes as he advances. His fists come down in a series of blows, each strike aimed at disabling rather than harming. Damian blocks and dodges where he can, but Bruce's assault is relentless, each hit pushing him further back.

THWIP

A web snares Bruce’s arm, halting his advance. His head swivels toward you, confusion and fury flashing in his eyes beneath the cowl. He struggles against the webbing, but you seize the opportunity to yank him off Damian, pulling him forcefully to the side of the rooftop. The webbing binds him tightly against the edge, restricting his movements.

Without wasting a second, you rush to Damian’s side. His breathing is ragged, masked cracked. blood runs down his lip You kneel beside him, gently pulling him up against you. Your arms wrap around him, providing a protective, comforting embrace.

“Baby, are you okay?” you ask urgently, voice trembling with fear.

Damian rasps out a laugh, his grin weak but defiant. “At least I know he’ll do the right thing if I ever do you wrong.”

SHLICK.

You look up to see Bruce cutting through your webbing with a knife. The webbing disintegrates under the assault, and you curse under your breath. Without your web-shooters, your organic webs are noticeably weaker—a reminder that you'd need to ask Morgan for new ones as soon as possible.

Bruce continued his advance, his gaze fixed on you this time.

You raised a hand, trying to signal a truce, your voice shaky but earnest. “I... I don’t want to fight,” you said, the exhaustion evident in every word.

“Then take off the mask,” Bruce commanded, his voice cutting through the air with a harsh edge, leaving no room for negotiation.

The demand hung between you, making your heart pound louder. You took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on you. Slowly, you lifted a trembling hand toward your mask, fingers grasping the edge.

But before you could fully uncover your face, Damian's hand shot out, grabbing your arm and yanking it away.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hisses, eyes flashing with desperation. He turns to Bruce, getting back onto his feet.

“Don’t come any closer,” Damian warns as he unsheathes his katana, its blade glinting menacingly in the dim light. “I have the utmost respect for you, Father, but if you take one more step, I will have to engage you properly this time.”

Despite the weight of your decision, there’s no other choice. Your sole aim is to end this confrontation swiftly and with as little harm as possible.

With a sharp breath, you square your shoulders and raise your head.

“Nobody’s going to do anything,” you say firmly as you start to tear off your mask. The fabric pulls away slowly, the cool night air brushing against your exposed skin.

As the mask comes free, you are left bare to the elements, your face now fully visible under the moonlight. You hold Bruce's gaze directly, hoping that this gesture will be enough to de-escalate the standoff.

"It's just me."

 ༻⊰───⋅

ruh oh

mmmmmmmm yes 3-4 chapters left

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #batfamily #dc robin #damian wayne al ghul #damian wayne imagine #selina kyle #bruce wayne #batman

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semischarmed · 4 months ago

Text

Hunter, Part 2

In the past few days, you’ve turned your neighbor into your own hedonistic puppet. Hunter’s major life changes were a shock to friends and family alike, but they were ultimately supportive as they helped you, his “new boyfriend”, move into your new apartment together. It only turned you on even more to see them cheer and congratulate Hunter, when you maneuvered his body into leaning over to kiss you sensually while your hand cups his right ass cheek possessively. You drew that particular kiss out, partially because he just tasted that good, and partially to goad Hunter.

Next came everything else- bank accounts, social media, Hunter made you a piece of all of it.

“You’re not gonna get awa-w….” Hunter’s body shudders before it lick’s its lips, laying a seductive stare on you. “Coming to bed, babe?” You knew that part always killed him. You make him watch as you don his recently used gym clothes, still reeking of his sweat and warm with his latest session. You take a quick whiff, enjoying the feeling of his sweat glide across your flesh and his scent permeate into you.

The raw, sharp stench of his used compression clothing hung heavy in the room but it wasn’t like Hunter was any better. These past few days were some of the most tiring for him- you loved making his flesh work out, loved the scents and grime he caked himself with, and ultimately decided to keep his body from showering. Hunter probably reeked to everyone else, but he smelled perfect to the only person allowed to matter in his life.

You slide up to him in bed, forcing him to wrap tone arms and legs around you like a warm blanket of flesh. He holds his phone up to your face, letting it unlock as he loads up his Instagram. Hunter was still somewhat connected to his University’s frat, so you had many options.

You make him lick your cheek seductively. You shuddered. “I wanna know what it feels like… To take one of my bros, to watch the betrayal in their eyes while I jam them full of our seed.” Immediately, Hunter wrestles back control, only managing to whimper. Inside him, you can feel your joint seed- the worms you initially used to infect him writhe and wriggle in pleasure.

You grab the phone, turning to the side as you continue to scroll through his Instagram. Meanwhile, you make Hunter touch himself, self-pleasuring until he reaches climax. You squirm in pleasure as he releases, feeling his body’s pleasure as an extension of yourself. His cum instantly solidifies. Instead of worms, your slithering offspring together expand in size, taking on a more snake-like appearance. You let one flow into your mouth, intending to let it settle in your body like a spring-loaded trap in case you needed a new puppet. You savor the flavor of the singular snake while forcing Hunter to swallow the rest of the serpents. Mmmmm. Tastes just like Hunter.

Hunter convulses as your offspring together reintegrate into his being. Without acknowledging his spasming form, you pull up one of the current members of his old frat.

“Jake. Junior. Sports Medicine. ATO… Looks like he has a personal training course. What do you think?” You ask the shaking Hunter. You see the veins on his temples enlarge in struggle and his face flush red.

“F-F…. Fuck Yeah”.

- - - - -

“Hey man. You sure you wanna do this in the forest?” Jake asked. So far, that only emotion you've seen come across his face is mild disinterest.

“Yeah…” you reply coolly through Hunter. God it turned you on just hearing his voice relay your thoughts. Hunter gagged internally. He stewed in disgust at feeling his own body act so naturally despite your impure intentions.

You can tell from Jake’s willingness to accommodate, you must have been one of his first clients. It was pretty clear why. Though popular, he wasn’t particularly charismatic. He’s posted at least one or two others- members of his own frat, but you wonder how many other actual clients he had. It was likely not much, considering how easy it was to convince him to agree to start the session the middle of the forest.

You readjusted in your seat, trying to hide your growing boner. Corrupting Hunter’s own secret spot into a trap laid out for Jake brought its own unique pleasure, but having to force his body to drive made it difficult to keep your own emotions at bay. You internally thank how little of your actual intention leaked. Hunter’s sincerity was one of his best traits, and you readily dispensed it at will, turning it into your own personal weapon.

Deeper and deeper, you drive Hunter to guide your party into the woods. Getting to the remote location felt even longer than before, perhaps due to your excitement. You look at your phone in glee as signal slowly dwindles. Eventually, your party stops at the water’s edge. You admire your handiwork as you look in satisfaction at the sheer stillness in Hunter’s Lake.

“Uh, so you’re actually already pretty built but we can still work on bulking you up.” His lips follow a flat smile, but his eyes betray his lack of interest. “You said you wanted to get jacked? What about your friend over there?” You smile a little at his nonchalance. It was almost cute seeing him try to secure another client. Oh Jake, I can’t wait to use that tight bod to get ourselves some more ‘clients’.

“My boyfriend”, you correct him through Hunter. “Is just here to watch... I l-like it when he watches”. You anticipate Jake’s reaction to this bizarre response, but the only change in his somewhat bored expression is a slight raise in his eyebrows. Hunter’s face is forced to mimic your sinister glee. Too easy.

“Sure bro, whatever floats your boat…” he relays back with a tone that feels like an eye roll. “Just saying, he could probably really benefit from this program.” Bored eyes survey your main body up and down. “I can make you strong, bro”. That brings a filthy smile to your face.

“You’re about to”, you moan.

Jake looks slightly confused for second, but his attention immediately focuses on Hunter’s approaching form, hands placed across his flesh, raking every piece of himself in pleasure.

“W-“ Jake is cut short as he is pushed several feet back into the lake water below. Amusement paints your face. Evidently, you underestimated the strength bound in Hunter’s body.

In more emotion than you’ve ever seen him have, the frat bro seizes at the sharp drop in temperature, yelping before he feels his heart drop and face turn pale. Slithering. All over him. He looks around in shock at a mass of serpents, coiling and writhing beneath the once-still water. You could tell he had a sixth sense for their unnatural nature. Too little too late.

Water splashes everywhere as Jake makes a beeline for shore. He chokes on the lake water a little and stumbles out but he does make it. Jake continues running inland despite being covered in snakes, hoping to flee into the forest. He slowly trudges to a halt, pinned upright as your snakes continue swirling around him.

True to Hunter’s name, you had booby-trapped the water during a previous visit, forcing his body to the brink as it deposited wave after wave of your joined semen. As soon as his seed left his warm flesh, it instantly solidified together, forming sizable serpents. Quite the upgrade from those worms.

Even now, you continue through Hunter, forcing him to pump his dick and blow out another load of your serpentine offspring. His eyes go glassy as they combine into larger forms. This time, they slither around Hunter’s flesh. His eyes fall on the helpless Jake, blinking once in sincere dread before you moan. As you do, his face twitches in discomfort until he is forced to moan as well, bringing a shaking hand back over his dick to pump out another load. And another still. Wave after tireless wave of snakes. Each wave adds to the one before, growing your snake larger and larger, until one several feet long is coiling itself around Hunter.

You were up to your fifth wave of offspring now. Jake is staring in horror, trying to escape the writhing clutches of your previous trap. Hunter’s body is past its limits. He’s slack-jawed, mouth agape and chest coated in waves of drool. He exudes a thick, pungent sheen of sweat. Your eyes lazily fall back on the personal trainer.

Jake too is drenched in sweat and struggle and slick with the hybrid cum of you and your previous hunt. He continues to look in fear at the barely conscious, tired beyond measure Hunter. Hunter is still reeling from what his body was just puppetted into doing. In this state, there’s no fight left in your “boyfriend’s” mind. He was only strung up into lucidity by the web of your cells in folds of his brain.

You will your own body unconscious, feeding the full stream of your thoughts into your hot neighbor. Despite the refinement in control, you still feel the slightest lag, slight delay in each movement. But with this new level of control, you feel blood rushing into his sore dick. His height alone was already a shift from your previous body. Longer, stronger limbs at your beckoning. You feel them brimming with power. Every sensation, every breath through his lungs felt grounding. Without Hunter inside wrestling for control, every movement felt more precise, every sense more vibrant. Hunter’s body resonates with your mind, feeling more like an extension of yourself. You strip yourself, taking your time to enjoy the new sensations.

You blink through Hunter’s tired eyes, boring his hazel irises into Jake’s, and smirk. “Don’t worry. You’re so big… I bet you can take all of us.” You drop to your knees, laying the large serpent into the ground.

You give Jake a show, starting to hump the air. With each thrust, your serpentine offspring begin to coil further and further around the whimpering Jake. “Please!” He screams. “What do you want? Money? I’ll give you anything, bro!” He shouts as he tries to shake off the snakes. “I-I don’t wanna die” he states in panic.

You walk up and lean Hunter’s face up to his cheek, your puppet’s warmth like a blanket over his body. You breathe out hot damp air through Hunter lungs. Jake slightly winces at your proximity. “You’re not gonna fucking die, bro”. You lick the side of his face. Salty. “Would be such a waste of that delectable bod”. You can feel Hunter’s consciousness begin to reemerge. He tries to wriggle back control, his disgust apparent. He’s revolted at what’s become of him. Once kind. Once normal. Now depraved. Now yours. You wield him with little care. With a cockiness and a cruelty that paid no respect to the man he once was. “Look at this fucking hunk. This puppet. This meatsuit.” You let your Hunter-bound dick gently graze Jack’s abdomen while moaning out through his deep voice. “Does he look dead to you?”

“No, You’re gonna live. And I’m gonna live. With you… In you. Through. You.” With that, you position Hunter out of the way as your largest offspring slithers its way into the convulsing Jake.

Jake starts hyperventilating as it inches closer and closer into his bound form. You ball your Hunter’s hand into a fist. The snakes already surrounding his flesh tighten even further. He gasps as the first cum-drenched serpent pokes at his ass. He looks back as you start to feed it in, shaking as he tries to control his pleasure when it rushes past his prostate.

With his mouth slightly open, you feed foot upon foot of yourself. He tries to retch, but that only gives more space for the snake to slip even further into him.

Once half of the large serpent is comfortably inside, you will the rest of the snakes up his asshole. Jake shudders, unable to fully vocalize his screams. He falls to the ground in a dull thud, convulsing while his body is forced to accommodate the extra mass of your offspring. You hear creaks and groans in his flesh, chest and stomach distended and writhing with your offspring.

Jake is reduced to soft squelching noises when the last of the large serpent slips in, sealing his fate. His shaking hands grip his neck as he tries to fight off the intrusion. He’s far too late, however. He thrashes in the ground, kicking dirt as two snakes slip between his muscle fibers. You entrench yourself into the man, willing more serpents into the folds of his extremities before making them burst back into Hunter-enhanced cum.

He whimpers, back arching in unnatural angles as you weave the largest serpent into the deepest parts of his body. He eventually quiets into stillness. Unable to move out of fear. It’s only for a moment, however. A splashing sound is heard from deep within his flesh as you explode the snake and coat most of his insides with your seed. You feel your cells begin to hijack his, merging and imposing you into his body.

You feel your main body stir to life, panting. Hunter’s naked body immediately drops to the ground, unconscious. Controlling these snakes seems to take a lot out of you. You look back at Jake. You still lack fine control of his body. This body is strong too. You feel his muscle fibers fight you, defying your commands through sheer force of will. You lick your lips, causing the sleeping Hunter to do the same. Manipulating both bodies felt like its own workout, especially when they resist. You instead focus more attention on your latest capture.

You wrap one snake around one of his vocal cords and bite. A strand of drool escapes slightly parted lips as his mouth moves with sluggish rigidity. With other bits of control. you clumsily force him to strip. Veins pop around his neck and his face contorts in pain. As you wrap another snake around more of his vocal cords, he relents his voice to you. “I can already tell this body’s a fuckin alpha.” God it felt good to puppet Jake. He twitches in struggle and then pats his abs. They don’t move at all from his hand but they ripple intensely with the writhing of the flesh you lodged inside him. His lips quiver but he is eventually forced to smile- and then a cocky flex. It feels entirely foreign coming out of him.

A few of your serpents slip into his balls, coiling and coating them with the mix of Hunter’s seed and your own. Hunter already had potency, but you could tell Jake was on another level. You wanted it. All of it. All of him. You inject yourself into every piece of his seed factory, and Jake seizes as he feels his future surrender to you. He feels a wrongness to his core, as you root into his very essence, his potential legacy. Jake sticks his tongue out in your delirious pleasure. He pulls up to your main body, grinding into you while smearing testosterone laden sweat all over your body. “That’s fuckin right. Get in me. All of it. This body- my baby batter’s yours. Inject us into my friends. My family…” He moans.

Another snake wedges into the folds of his brain before biting. A mix of your cum and Hunter’s floods his mind. Jake grips his head in pain as he’s forced to surrender every thought, feeling, dream he’s ever had. You move your offspring in sync to perfectly imitate Jake. He starts to strip, letting you witness the full glory of his drenched body. ”I’ve always wanted kids. Your kids- Our kids are gonna be so fucking strong. Daddy Jake will make them strong”. He taunts himself as he feels his own body up. “I’m fucking delicious”. With your increased focus, he’s a bit easier to handle. A bead of sweat falls on your main body. Still fucking hard to pilot. “Cmon bro, this all you got?” You make him say to himself. Jake blinks away tears, betrayed by his own flesh and muscle.

Suddenly, you see a tired Hunter wake, sickened to his core, but free. You instantly try to flex the pieces of yourself still embedded inside him but he resists. Your main body falls into sleep again to solidify your control over Jake’s body. The worn Hunter starts to scramble away before you rush him with Jake’s body, pinning him with your new strengthened biceps. Power. Hunter had good qualities, but Jake was a powerhouse. Raw, muscled power. He was brimming with it, body soaked in the stuff. And it was now yours. Jake’s face animates with your delight. “Oh Hunter…” you coo. “You’re a fighter, aren’t you? I don’t think you’re fighting your way out of this one,” You sake with Jake’s virile voice, opening your mouth so he can see a resolidified snake. It was larger this time, more menacing. You close Jake’s mouth again as his face is pulled into your smile.

“Here, have a taste”, you make him say, as you pull Hunter into a savage kiss. You fashion your new mouth into a wide smile regurgitating the newly thickened snake. Hunter chokes on your serpent, eyes rolling to the back of his head. The new offspring you’ve forced out of Jake and Hunter’s genetic material is mighty. Dominant. Hunter’s throat expands to allow the intrusion. He’s still weary from the past few days and newfound freedom, and you feel just one of these snakes are enough for full control. Permanent control. The enhanced piece of you begins dissolving and weaving itself into Hunter’s flesh. "You're mine". You hold him in place as he jolts, body twisting and contorting to try in vain to fight it. As his trembling slowly subsides, you watch in glee as his sullen face slowly rise to meet Jake’s eyes, growing smirk on his face mirroring yours.

Your control slowly wanes when your main body rises out of its sleep. You bring Hunter into a deep, wet kiss, before placing your attention back on Jake. Hunter’s flesh moves to your command, just like before, but this time, any resistance is tamped down by your new Jake-enhanced cum. You are still slightly out of breath from controlling his body, but with nowhere near the difficulty you had before.

The triple vision causes you to stagger, but you quickly get used to puppetting two bodies at once. This time, it was Jake’s turn to form a resistance. His body jerks as he tries to brute force command of his own body back. You wrestle it back, forcing a shaking hand to grab his dick and start pumping. You bring Hunter’s hand over, supporting. Your two hands are coarse, and your control over them is somewhat rough. Regardless, you quicken to a breakneck speed, barely leaving time for Jake’s body to gasp.

Jake’s dick releases in a torrent of cum. It coats Hunter’s body, but with your control, he doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he moans, scooping it into his hands and bringing it up to your Jake body’s mouth. You make your frat bro slurp the mixture own seed, Hunter, and yours. Jake’s fighting the urge to vomit, but to you it tastes divine. You make him swirl his tongue inside his mouth, corralling every last piece of it deeper inside.

Making Jake reinfect himself made all three of your bodies hard. Jake squirms in and out of control. He’s forced to grope his own muscles while he feels himself saturate with you, his own Adonis bod reduced into an avatar of your pleasure. He’s ready. You bring your newly infested puppet close. His deep chest heaves for you. Voice dripping with your perversion, “I’ll make you strong bro” you make Jake say in a corruption of his own catchphrase. “This is peak performance”. You can practically feel him fight with every fiber of his being. His bulging musculature spams. You drool with anticipation, pinning his body and yours to a tree with Hunter’s gyrating flash. ”Be one with me” you sing in Hunter’s voice. “O..On..with…. me“, you start to be able to reply back as Jake. “O-o-one…” His head shakes side to side, fighting you intrusion. You pinpoint your mind, like a hypodermic needle to his psyche. “One with me,” He gasps in ecstasy.

“You fuckin freak….” Jake’s face pulls in a deep smile as he moans. You already have him acting atypically, it borders on unnatural as his lips pull into a smile wider than he’s ever made in his life. He now faces your main body, face closer than you ever would have dared to have it before. “Sin in my body….” He winces in one last bit of resistance, a small tear pooling in his eye. “Let’s make my parent’s cry…” He leans down to you for a kiss, letting you taste every piece of him with your main body for the first time. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as he’s forced to suck out the snake you swallowed a few days ago. He gurgles a little before sending a Jake-imbued serpent, drenched in his testosterone and musk, down your throat. You make him pull back, looking at you with his signature bored expression, now tainted with your lust. “Own me”. His hand grabs yours, pulling it over his ass cheek and forcing a squeeze. “From now on… I am yours”

- - - - -

It took a few hours to make your way back but you finally manage. This time, Jake drove back. Drawing on the sleeping Hunter's knowledge. His car and the route back are second nature.

Jake places a hand on your inner thigh and smiles. Before long, your back in town and you send the aspiring personal trainer on his way.

You lay back in bed, curling up to your Hunter body. He still reeks but you can’t wait to start concocting your own concentrated Jake-flavored scent. You sigh contentedly, satisfied with your newest acquisition.

Doesn’t hurt to have a little test drive.

Your two bodies peacefully lull into slumber as you flood the full force of your consciousness into Jake’s body. His face flashes in a split-second resistance before settling back. You fit the shape of your psyche to match his brain, slowly sliding into a deepened control. He has been carrying on as normal, so when you open his eyes as your own for the first time and gasp you first Jake-breath, you immediately adapt to his nonchalance. You survey your new surroundings.

He’s at the school gym, with what looks like one of his ATO brothers. It’s quite empty, probably due to how late it was. You pull one of his half-smiles. You couldn’t believe your luck at the fine man before you. You extract information from Jake’s mind.

A model, at least part time. Smart. Charismatic. “He’s cute, too,” You taunt Jake. “Thanks for the bro, bro”.

One of the snakes you have in his body coils in excitement, but you will it to be still. Might as well finish his routine. You can’t help but push Jake’s body past its limit as you barrel your way through his sets.

You had a glimpse of his raw power previously, but it paled in comparison to this. As you smash through set after set in his body, you feel deeply in tune with Jake. His heart pumps mightly. Your cells already course through his bloodstream, so the action squeezes you into him further and only solidifies your bond together. His lungs are like engines, you’ve never felt so much energy inside you. You want to keep the charade of his normal personality up, but you can’t help but giggle. So good. So fucking good.

Hunter was dependable, and it felt amazing fully wearing his mind, but Jake was another beast entirely. You feel drunk in his body, in his vitality, in feeling his muscles conform to your thoughts. Your two bodies in Hunter’s apartment start squirming, leaking a bit of precum. Your mind is twisted and slotted into every piece of Jake's. His inner self winces as your very being, very sense of self leeches out of every crevice in his, neurons force-fed your commands. Your Jake-flavored thoughts course through his body, the perfect housing to your newly added self. This was truly being Jake. Wearing him in all senses but physical. And being Jake is a fuckin party.

It wasn’t just sensation. Thoughts themselves felt euphoric. Through his eyes, the world seems just a bit brighter. His mouth is intimately aware of the flavor of his own saliva. And his nose... you take a deep whiff of the perspiration caking his armpits, drenched in his musk. Divine. A moan escapes your mouth, prompting a quick turn from Dylan. God, we even sound good when we moan together. Jake’s face immediately reverts to its normal, dull demeanor. You raise your eyebrows slightly, just like Jake does, as you catch his eyeline, arousing no suspicion. Dylan promptly returns to his exercises, unaware of the danger wearing his best friend. You put Jake in the forefront, only for a moment, relishing in his sense of freedom before immediately straddling his psyche. You ride it as he is forced to bring trembling fingers up to his nipples. You give them a good rub. Oh my god. Another moan, but Dylan ignores it this time. That gets the two of you even harder.

You continue to straddle Jake’s inner sense of self as you work through his last set. It felt good to have him around, to witness how much more powerful he was when you were puppetting his bod. “We’re so fucking strong together,” you grunt in a proud aggression. Jake’s emotions felt far more raw than Hunter’s so it was difficult reining them in.

Large dumbbells fall to the ground in a loud thunk. Jake’s body- your body is spent. His flesh cries in pain and soreness, but even that felt amazing through his bod. You are intimately aware of his tired flesh. It’s tender, but not for long. You feel the fibers of his being, coated in your conjoined seed getting buried in the folds of his growing muscles. Like all bodies after a workout, his body courses with growth hormones. Mass. His flesh condenses, builds itself stronger, unwillingly with you inlaid deep within them. You whimper in ecstacy. This is yours. He is yours. All yours. Irreversibly yours.

You roar, proud of Jake, of the new branch of your being. You will his tired form upright. He drools as his body whines in soreness. You lap it up, his face filling with determination as you prepare for your next hunt.

Your body is soaked, oozing with Jake’s sweat and scent. You pay no mind as you slowly walk towards Dylan, who had just finished his last set. You can barely mask your excitement through Jake’s normal demeanor. God you look even better up close. Your muscled hand reaches out, offering to pull him up. You ‘accidentally’ pull him too hard and into your awaiting hug. You laugh it off but you can tell that emotion alone was already offputting to Dylan. Fuck it, let’s be one already.

You waste no time, wrapping Dylan with your larger frame. Your ATO bro flails, trying to escape your clutches. He's far too weak to resist, post-workout. Instead you pull his head, up to your nose for a quick whiff of your future scent. Your eyelids flutter a little. He smells fancy.

You tug on Jake’s memories, “Bro, it was so fun getting to know you this semester. Gets me so hard just thinking about that tight little ass of yours.” You start grinding Jake’s body into Dylan. Letting him feel Jake’s hard on.

Dylan is stammering, clearly worried at the hybrid personality of Jake and your perversion. This person in front of him is Jake. It’s undeniably Jake, but it feels so wrong. Your muscled hand grips his chin, turning it from one side to another. “We’re gonna be more than bros, Dylan.” That causes him to struggle more. “You got the cutest face in ATO. Can’t fucking wait to wear it. Ready to be one?”

Dylan starts tossing himself around, as he sees the large snake slowly rising from Jake’s smile. You use your newfound muscle man to keep him steady. Another perk of being entrenched in Jake’s body. You waste no time, forcing Dylan to gorge himself on you, Jake and Hunter’s hybrid seed.

He makes gurgling noises as you coil and worm into your new bod, and the last sight he sees is Jake pleading “sorry”. Dylan’s shaking stops, arms hanging lifelessly. Jake is still whimpering his sorrys as you brute force your bond into Dylan. It’s normally an arduous process, but being betrayed by his best friend turns his corruption into quick work. His mind succumbs to you easily, still in shock.

Jake is still sobbing “sorry” as he holds you upright. Your eyes slowly blink open, looking to Jake in confusion at first. He opens his mouth, wanting to ask if you were still you but you abruptly use your new body to pull him into a kiss. You force Jake to reciprocate, giving him a forbidden taste of his best bro’s essence.

“No need to be sorry bro,” you moan. “Actually... thank you, Jake. Thank you for stuffing this tight bod with his flesh.” You start to mock Jake by wearing your new body’s sincerity as you continue. “I’ve always wanted to be turned into a meat puppet. This was my deepest desire”. You hum.

Wearing Dylan was equally arousing and you feel Jake squirm in disgust at feeling his best friend’s growing hard on. You start to dance in Dylan’s tight bod, shaking more of your cells deeper in the process. “I’ve always wanted to be slut. And for my best, most trusted bro to be the one to infect me!” You cackle. “You feel him, don’t you?” You moan. “You can tell there’s no going back…” Jake starts to shake as you resume control, this time dispersing your mind across both bodies.

You pull back Jake to the forefront of his own mind, again strapping him to your own thoughts so he can fully watch and experience himself defile his best friend’s body. Jake’s body returns a hedonistic sneer. “Hell yeah brother…” You slam Dylan to the gym floor and begin stripping both frat men. “We can take the rest of ATO-“ both bodies briefly moan at the thought of corrupting their own brothers. “But, gratitude, bro. Lemme taste you first. Gonna stuff you so full of my cum, you’ll always have a piece of Jake inside of you,” You chuckle. “Well, more what's already there”.

= = = = =

Phew, another long one. But when have they ever not been long?

#malepossession #male puppet #male corruption #male body control #male takeover #male mind control

527 notes · View notes

ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

Text

Bulletproof

Summary: You're the only Avenger who sleeps in a cell. | Series Masterlist

Word count: 2.9k+ | Tags: Mild Angst, Fluff, Sharing A Bed, Enemies to Lovers

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Requested by anon:

could i maybe request wanda x r where the whole team kinda mistreats them and wanda is especially bad. & r saving wanda on a mission, with this: wanda: “How'd you know you were bulletproof?" r: "I didn't. I just knew that you weren't."

Author's note: Thank you to the anon who requested this :) Not sure if this is exactly how you wanted it, but I had fun writing the battle (my first time!) Hope you don't mind I took some liberties ;) Takes place before Civil War.

“You don’t have to be so mean to them,” Natasha tells her.

Wanda's eyes narrow as she continues to fixate on you, her glare seemingly willing the daggers to find their mark. You can sense the energy of her powers tingling in the air, but she maintains control, stopping the daggers just short of their target.

“They need to know what they’re up against,” Wanda retorts, her accent slipping through in a rare moment. “If they’re going to be one of us, they have to prove themselves.”

Natasha moves to stand between you and Wanda, her body language calm but assertive. “They will, in time. But not like this.”

You can feel your heart pounding, but you refuse to let Wanda see any fear in your eyes. Your choice to leave your former life and join this team wasn't made lightly, and you won't be intimidated.

“I'm right here,” you say, stepping forward. “And I'm not going anywhere. If you want to test me, do it properly.”

Wanda smirks, and the daggers drop to the floor, clattering loudly in the silence. “Impressive,” she says, almost as an afterthought.

Steve Rogers, observing from the sidelines, steps in to defuse the situation. His authoritative presence commands respect, and his voice is steady and even. “That's enough for today. We're a team, and we need to start acting like one.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with understanding but also a hint of caution. “However,” he continues, his tone shifting, “You'll still be sleeping in the cells.”

Your heart plummets, each word from Steve feeling like a blade to your chest. Being sent back to that room, devoid of windows, with only a tiny bed and a comforter too thin to ward off the chill, feels like a betrayal every time. You've spent nights there, shivering and reflecting on your decision to join this team, yet still, you find yourself confined.

“After several months of captivity, even cooking your dinner, you still don't trust me?” you ask, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice.

Steve's expression softens, but his resolve remains firm. “It's not about trust,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of experience and pain. “We've been crossed so many times before, mostly by former HYDRA agents.”

Like you, he doesn’t need to say.

You understand the logic, but it doesn't make the reality any easier to swallow. The sense of being an outsider, the cold isolation of the cells—it wears on you.

Wanda, who had been silent up to this point, suddenly speaks up. “Maybe you should just leave then. If it's so unbearable, why stay?”

The room goes quiet.

A thousand retorts spring to your mind, but you swallow them down, unwilling to escalate the situation further. The temptation to throw back that it's rich coming from her, considering she's also a former footsoldier of HYDRA, is strong, but you bite your tongue.

You look at her, stunned by the bluntness of her suggestion, but also recognizing the challenge in her eyes.

Her words strike deeper than she may realize. Leaving isn't an option you've entertained, mainly because there's nowhere for you to go. No one left in your life to turn to. This makeshift “family” despite their reservation and distance, is all you have.

The days that follow are marked by a subtle but relentless isolation.

In the training room, Wanda's partnership becomes more aggressive than usual. Her powers lash out without warning, her critiques sharp and cutting. You hold your own, but the lack of camaraderie is palpable. Each comment she makes stings, and with every barb, you feel more and more alone.

At meal times, the rest of the Avengers seem to be in their own world, deep in conversation, sharing stories, laughing. You sit at the end of the table, your presence barely acknowledged, a shadow among them. Your attempts to join in are met with curt replies or indifference. You try to brush it off, believing that you should be used to rejection by now. But no matter how much you tell yourself that you're accustomed to it, that you've developed a thick skin, the pain is still there, raw and fresh.

Mission briefings are no better. Your opinions and insights are consistently overlooked. You contribute where you can, but your ideas are dismissed without consideration. You are a tool, a means to an end, not a part of the team. The realization gnaws at you, festering in the pit of your stomach.

Casual encounters with the team become equally disheartening. Tony passes you in the hallway without so much as a glance. Natasha avoids eye contact. Bruce mumbles something noncommittal when you try to engage him in conversation. Steve's assignments are devoid of the warmth or encouragement he shows to everyone else.

Your cell becomes a constant reminder of your status, metaphor for how the entire team treats you.

You’re both just a weapon and a first-aid kit at their disposal.

Wanda is relentless, her words sharp and her gaze cold. You have no idea why she treats you worse than any of them, why her manner towards you has turned so hostile. You don't understand why you get under her skin without even trying, why she seems to target you with a venom that feels deeply personal.

You were expecting that Wanda would be the one to understand what it feels like to be an outsider, given that you both share a common history as former HYDRA agents.

As the days turn into weeks, the isolation wears you down. The walls of your cell seem to close in, and a growing determination to prove yourself begins to take hold.

You'll show them all that you're more than just a disposable weapon.

But underlying that determination is a gnawing doubt, a fear that no matter what you do, it will never be enough to earn their respect, their trust, or their friendship. It's a lonely road, and for the first time, you begin to wonder if Wanda's earlier suggestion might hold some truth.

Perhaps it would be easier to leave.

It’s not like you know the extent of your abilities, but they bring you along the most dangerous missions for one thing:

Your healing ability.

On top of your martial arts training, you provide a sense of security to your teammates, knowing that you'll be there to heal them if they get hurt.

Now, you find yourself on one such mission, infiltrating a den of underground supers. These aren't ordinary criminals; they're mercenaries hired to carry out the dirty work of high-ranking government officials. It's a treacherous job, one filled with unknown risks, and you've been paired with Wanda for the operation.

As you and Wanda are attempting to escape, things take a turn for the worse. You find yourselves cornered in an alley, your escape route cut off by a group of armed thugs and a few individuals displaying unnerving superpowers.

Wanda takes on those with special abilities, her eyes glowing red as she unleashes her powers in a flurry of attacks. You, on the other hand, focus on the armed assailants, wielding two-handed pistols with expert precision. Bullets fly, and bodies fall as you both fight for your lives.

But in the midst of the chaos, you notice something that sends a chill down your spine. Snipers, perched on a nearby rooftop, taking aim at Wanda. Even with your healing abilities, you know that a precise shot to the head would be fatal.

“Wanda, get down!” you shout, but she's too engrossed in her battle to hear you. Your mind races, knowing that you have only seconds to act.

Without a second thought, you turn and run towards Wanda, your body moving on pure instinct. Bullets whiz by your ear, but you keep going, your focus solely on reaching her before it's too late.

You leap into the air, positioning yourself between Wanda and the snipers just as they pull the trigger.

You hear the distant release of the bullet, muted but deadly.

The world seems to slow down as you brace for the impact, only to feel the bullets bounce off your skin.

You land, unscathed, your mind reeling from the realization that you're bulletproof. But there's no time to dwell on it.

Wanda looks at you, her eyes wide with shock but also gratitude. “How did you–”

“No time!” you cut her off, urging her to keep fighting. “We have to get out of here!”

Wanda's eyes flare with a vivid scarlet as she zeroes in on the snipers in the vicinity. With a flourish of her hands, she uses her powers to locate each of their positions. A pulse of energy emanates from her fingertips, reaching out to the snipers' weapons, and within moments, the firearms disintegrate into dust, leaving the men defenseless.

Seeing an opening, you reach for Wanda's arm, your grip firm but not rough. There's no time to waste, and you start pulling her towards the exit, half running, half dragging her to safety. Her breath is warm on your neck, her body close to yours, as you weave through the maze of alleyways, your heart pounding in your chest.

Once you're at a safe distance, Wanda turns to you. “How'd you know you were bulletproof?”

“I didn't,” you admit, still in disbelief, and much to Wanda’s horror that you almost got yourself killed for her sake. “I just knew you weren't. And if those bullets got to you, I wouldn't be able to heal someone who's already dead.”

Wanda stares at you, her eyes searching your face as if she's trying to see something… deeper. Her lips part, like she wants to say something more, something that's just on the tip of her tongue but won't come out.

That's when you realize that you're still holding her arm, your bodies so close that you can feel her heartbeat. A flush of embarrassment washes over you as you become aware of the intimate proximity. Wanda clears her throat, a delicate, almost shy sound, and you immediately let go of her arm.

The silence that follows your sudden step back is heavy and awkward. You can't help but glance at the spot where your hand had been moments ago, still feeling the ghostly sensation of her arm beneath your fingers.

You look at Wanda, and she's looking back at you, her eyes wide and filled with something you can't quite name.

And then, without warning, Wanda starts to laugh.

It's a soft, bubbling sound at first, almost as if she's surprised by it herself. Her laughter grows, becoming louder and more contagious, and you can't help but stare at her, your mouth agape, wondering if she's lost her mind.

“What's so funny?” you finally manage to ask.

Wanda wipes a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “I was just thinking,” she says, her nose scrunching, something you haven’t seen on her and you find it quite… adorable. “You're like a shield now. As effective as Steve's vibranium one, maybe even more so.”

The absurdity of the statement causes you to finally join in her laugh, and your heart seems to flutter at the sound of Wanda's glee.

“I don't know about that,” you say, trying to sound modest but unable to keep the smile off your face. “Steve's shield has a bit more style.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Wanda teases, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “There's something quite stylish about being bulletproof. And practical too.”

Was that a compliment?

You shake your head, still smiling, your previous awkwardness forgotten. You're not only pleased at the first light banter you've shared with a teammate but also smiling at something else, something that stirs deep inside you and that you're not quite ready to confront.

Your crush on Wanda Maximoff.

The toll of the day's event is weighing down on you and Wanda, but like every mission, you're required to report the details of the mission–successful or not. Your muscles are sore, your mind is weary, but the mission was a success, and you can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

Arriving back at the Avengers compound, you follow Wanda into the debriefing room where Steve is waiting. Wanda explains what happened, how you discovered your newfound ability, and saved her life. Her voice is filled with respect and something more, something warmer, as she recounts your bravery.

Steve's face lights up with pride. “You both did well today. I'm proud of how you handled yourselves out there.”

You exchange a glance with Wanda, waiting for something more, perhaps some acknowledgment of your change in status within the team, or even an upgrade to your sleeping quarters. But instead, Steve simply nods, his face turning serious. “Dismissed.”

Wanda's face falls, and you feel a sharp pang of disappointment. You start to retreat towards your cell, the cold, windowless room that's been your home for months, but Wanda's voice stops you in your tracks.

“Wait a minute, Steve,” she protests. “After all that's happened, after all Y/N has done for us, don't you think it's time for a change? A real room, perhaps?”

Steve looks between you and Wanda. You hold your breath, hoping for a reprieve from the isolation you've been feeling.

Finally, Steve sighs, his face softening. “Wanda, if it were up to me, Y/N would have their own room already. But it's not that simple,” he explains, his voice strained. “I still need to place an official request with Tony. He's the one who approves these things.”

You can hear the frustration in Steve's voice, and you realize that he's fighting for you, in his own way.

“Fine,” Wanda says, crossing her arms. “But this needs to be done quickly, Steve. It's not right.”

“I agree. I'll talk to Tony first thing tomorrow.”

As you turn to leave and retreat back to your cell, Wanda's hand on your arm stops you, and you look back at her, surprised by the action.

“Come with me,” she says. Without another word, she leads you towards her quarters.

Your heart quickens at her words, and you follow her, trying to process what's happening.

Is she really inviting you to stay in her room?

Once inside her quarters, the reality of the situation sinks in, and a nervous tension takes hold. Her room is filled with personal touches–little trinkets, photographs, her clothes all over the place–that provide glimpses into a life you've only seen from a distance. You feel like an intruder, momentarily paralyzed as you take in the intimacy of her space.

Wanda seems to pick up on your hesitation, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. A smirk plays on her lips as she teases, “Don't look so terrified. I won't bite.”

You chuckle at her remark. “Well, that's a relief.”

Wanda's eyes sparkle with amusement, and she moves further into the room, gesturing for you to follow. “Make yourself at home,” she says. She then goes to the closet and begins to pull out a spare pillow and blanket. “You'll be staying here with me until we sort out a room for you,” she says.

“Thanks, Wanda,” you say softly.

Without further comment, you move to make your bed on the floor, your movements deliberate and slow as you try to give her space and respect her privacy.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks, her eyes widening as she realizes your intention.

“I'm just getting ready to sleep,” you explain, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I'm quite tired.”

“No, what are you doing on the floor?” she clarifies, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “You're sharing the bed with me.”

“I wouldn't want to impose,” you say, though the offer is tempting.

“You're not imposing,” Wanda assures you, her eyes sincere. “You've earned a proper bed, and I trust you.”

The word 'trust' hits you like a wave, and you feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes.

Blinking them back, your voice cracks a little as you reply, “Thank you, Wanda. That means more to me than you know.”

“Good night, Y/N,” Wanda whispers, turning on her side to face you.

“Good night, Wanda,” you say, just as softly.

You both settle on the bed, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda uses her powers to switch off the light.

The softness of Wanda's bed is worlds away from the harsh, unforgiving mattress in your cell. You find yourself sinking into the plush comfort, every muscle in your body releasing the tension from the dangerous mission earlier. The scent of Wanda on the pillows only adds to the incomparable comfort they provide. The difference is staggering, and it contributes to you falling asleep much more quickly than you have in a long time.

In the middle of the night, you're stirred awake by the feeling of Wanda rolling closer to you. Her arm finds its way over your stomach, and her soft snores fill the room. Being ever alert, the small action wakes you, but as soon as you realize it's just Wanda, a smile forms on your face.

You lie there for a moment, taking in the warmth and the gentle pressure of her hand. A soft blush creeps up your cheeks as you place your hand over hers to keep it there.

You've become more than just teammates.

You've become friends.

And maybe, just maybe, something more.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #captain america civil war #the avengers #oneshots #steve rogers #fic request

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plasticfangtastic · 4 months ago

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Dairy Girl

A Homelander X F! Reader fanfic

A/N: I am still working on my other projects but I just wanted to write something fun and light to get me back into writing. I hope y'all enjoy this short little piece, btw i aint got no kids so i have very little idea how milk banks work, this will be a 2 or 3 part story.

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

Tags: Stockholm Syndrome, abusive dynamic, Homelander being Homelander, dub-con, dark, mild smut, breastfeeding kink, kidnapping, child-death mention tw, cheating tw, set in s4 but canon nothing, slow burn.

Word Count: 3K

Part 1– Heifer

Such a small box, smaller than a shoe box, just big enough to fit its contents with enough space for his ghost to move. You stared at the small box as its buried in the family plot… you never thought of visiting this place to ever bury the last shred of happiness you had left, his body was born weak, so small you wonder if you’d given birth to a child or a chick, 2 months ago you had come home to find your now ex in bed with his ex, he had turned this betrayal on its head and blamed you for it, something about your lack of desire lately, about how your pregnancy had given him amounts of pressures he'd never agreed with, talking endlessly about his needs and how much you’d ignored him.

Whoever this man was, you didn’t recognize him.

Time blurred into nothing but disconnected colors and shapes, all you know was that the stress and anguish lead to this.

A box under soil.

Days passed and in your empty apartment, surrounded by all the stuff you bought you stood in front of the sink, throwing a bottle of fresh milk down the drain feeling tremendous guilt, the doctor said you would dry out soon enough but your breast had swollen so much your bras no longer fit– even the spare ones you bought just in case they’ve grown a size too big from what you expected, you booked an appointment with your doctor hoping they could give you whatever cocktail of drugs to dry you out and save you from the pressure and pain in your chest, it had been nothing but a passing message from a worried neighbor who had stop by to give you some mail that had been sent to them by accident when she mentioned her daughter-in-law had donated her excess milk after her little one refused to latch, she gave you the name of the charity and after much thinking you gave in, you lost your baby but there was some woman out there who could end up experiencing your same grief if their baby starved to death, yours simply born too small and weak to hold your finger for very long.

It felt good, you met the women running the charity and even some of the faces of the women you helped, as you delivered your frozen packs to the women’s clinic where the charity operated, it helped you heal, it gave your pain purpose, but as the months faded behind you a part of you worried about how much you keep producing, less than before but still too much, yet you keep going knowing it would end soon enough.

Perhaps somebody in the clinic or the charity had dropped your information to these people but you'd received some mail regarding some research trials Vought International was running and how they needed some donors to drop fresh samples, in their pamphlet they offered to pay a decent amount--your divorce had been costly plus having to move to a new place and breaking your previous lease had left your bank account quite dry, this was cheap money, you had given your milk for free, you looked at the few pouches you had collected for next week's drop you saw a wonderful opportunity to make some quick cash.

You went to the Vought Clinic and saw a few other women filling up forms, reading old magazines or dilly-dallying on their phones until some nurse called their numbers, you filled the medical form, waited less than half an hour before your number was called, brought into a small bleach scented room, the nurse read your form and told you she would take a blood sample, a doctor came in, reciting whatever script he’d been given about what this project was, giving you big words you had no interest in, this was about providing better milk formulas closer to natural milk than anything currently in the market apparently, thanking you for your donation, he looked at your form smiling as he saw your inked words.

“You're still producing 4 months after…” The doctor handed you a disinfecting wipe and a freshly steamed breast pump in a silver tray– we just need two samples, please press the alarm to let us know you’d finished, then follow Nurse Potts to the front counter to sort out your payment.”

It had been an awkward experience, but there you were 300 dollars richer, you probably should’ve read those papers a bit closer before signing but money was money and you were told to come back if you could.

You did it a couple times for 2 months, much like a man donating sperm for pocket money or plasma to pay the rent.

That was the first mistake, you headed home and woke up the morning after wishing you had stayed out for an extra hour or two, perhaps caved in to your friends pressures and tried going back to dating (after all your ex was whoring himself all across the lower east side without moral qualms) or hookups so you would had gone to a different address, maybe you should had taken a taxi instead of taking the train and walking home.

Regardless you woke in some strange empty room, the only thing beside your person was a pair of pale pink hospital gowns, grippy socks, clean underwear and a pair of thick large towels, you screamed and banged on the door for an ungodly amount of time but nobody ever came, you stayed alone in that room for what could have been 12 hours or more… maybe less… who knew it was all too much, suddenly a sharp sound cut into the silence a note had been slid under the door, you rushed to the note.

It was instructions, they wanted you wearing their clean clothes, you could not leave the room unless you did so, and as much as you hated the idea, you wanted to get out so badly, you knew if you wanted to escape your only chance came in knowing your surroundings, you begrudgingly and tearfully changed, waiting until anything changed– the doors hissed opened, a woman in a sharp cream coloured suit stood there with clipboard and an armed guard, at the sight of the heavy looking gun– you froze.

Then you took the first step towards hell.

You knew the following things: You lived in some basement area– there were no windows, only elevators. You weren’t alone, there were other women here and they made sure to keep your interactions at minimum no doubt to keep all of you submissive and not getting any ideas, sometimes familiar faces will fade and you could only speculate nightmares. Lastly… your purpose, the reason you were trapped here in the first place was… to lactate.

A plucky little thing that stayed optimistic despite your shared horror called herself a ‘Heifer’ she wasn’t wrong… you lived in a small cell where everything had sat on top of each other feed to keep fat and producing milk much like a cow, whoever developed this diet knew of all the ingredients known to help production, and you knew there were putting something else in the food for your breast begun to feel uncomfortable, for a little while you thought you could fight it by starving yourself, then two men with guns came into the room and told you to eat or else.

The time you spend outside this microflat hong-kong style cell was in the milking room and the shower room, you were ordered to stay clean and quiet, at least in the milking room you had some television and could spend time with the other women, but they keep you isolated, you could do very little, sometimes music would play and a book would be dropped with your food but your happiness wasn’t priority, you had to fill a quota.

After a couple weeks of this you simply accepted defeat, too many guns… not enough spaces to run, and nothing to come home to… a man that wanted to sue you for more feeling as if the judge had been unfair, a pestering family who acted as if they had been the only ones who experience loss, an empty cot you still hadn’t gotten rid off and piles and piles of bills, in this quiet cool room you had spend endless hours thinking, you didn’t love your job, you had been distant from most of your friends and you could only imagine that they assumed you had run away or killed yourself after what happened nobody could blame you.

Existing for the sake of existing until you could figure out what to do next.

“Good Evening… I’m glad you’re eating so well” The lady you met the first day said as the door hissed open, she watched you like a hawk as you process this sudden interruption, clutching at your paper thin blanket, you looked at the floral fabric in her arms and the clipboard under her arm– I need you to sign this before you’re allowed upstairs”

“Am I being let out?” You said anxiously, no way it could be that easy you thought.

The lady let her smile waiver, looking at the unseen guard then at her wrist watch as she handed you the clipboard.

“Your performance might determine how soon you'll be release…”

“You assume I won’t go to the police…”

“That wouldn’t be wise Miss L/N but we assure you that you’ll be sufficiently compensated for the inconvenience.”

You wanted to yell, but a voice in the back of your head thought of this but nothing but pageantry, you were dead either way, but perhaps this could be your opportunity to escape, whatever they wanted to do now meant being outside of these buried walls, you signed the sheet without thinking, briefly considered stabbing the bitch in the eye but is likely they would turn you into swiss cheese before you even took a step too close, she took the paperwork from your hands and in change handed you a long sleeved dressed straight out of the mormon section in target, she closed the door and you dressed up.

The halls looked so odd when you didn’t wear your prison clothes, the other few doors housed sleeping and bored girls, your plucky friend hidden behind one of them, the new girl hidden behind one of them and the girl you seen before in the milking room once hid behind one of them.

They took you to an elevator– it was old box, if you had to guess by the button’s design maybe built in the late or mid 70s, you never left their side until the elevator closed before them, the box moved slowly, a dingy silver box with low honey coloured lights, so dim… and you were alone, as the light chime as it went up you felt your entire being sink into your stomach, your heart beating so fast you were sure you were gonna have a heart attack before the doors opened once again, swallowing dry spit, your eyes opened so wide it hurt.

Quiet… it was so quiet when the doors opened, you expected something else, something menacing… something frightening– not an old house, an old house in the middle of some evergreen forest, everything screams old, untouched, museum like, like it's meant to present this idea that somebody lives here but not really, despite it being an elevator hidden behind a bookcase, you take a few cautious steps, your naked feet bury in the plush carpet, there’s bird singing outside and the sun is so bright and warm it hurts your eyes, the cool tones gone and this feels like a bad dream, pinching yourself but you’re awake, tragically awake, a weird wiry smile creeps on your lips, an almost laugh escapes your lips before you can feel tears burning your eyes.

“Hello…?” You ask and you don’t know why.

As you venture into the living room, hands firm against the tacky dark pink wallpaper, you found old floral couches that matched the drapes and despite how old school it was it had a charm to it.

Then you saw him.

Perusing the VHS collection filled the entire bookcase on the wall, just rows and rows of VHS boxes, some plastic and some cardboard, the TV boxy and just as antiquated but who cared— he was there.

You ran before you even realized you done it, crashing into him with desperation, tears staining your cheeks and you could barely breath as you tried so hard to speak.

“Homelander please help me!! I’ve been kidnapped!! Please!!” You cried, pulling on his suit– please!!”

Those endlessly blue eyes more poison dart hide than veronica flower bush the more they stared at you calmly, his lips into a thin smile and his hand thad taken your wrist inflicting just enough force to keep you firmly in his grip… to show you how he wasn’t an ordinary man, he looked at you as your tears changed meaning as if you were the most unfortunate creature he’d ever seen, his lips parted just enough to show those sharp canines that had looked so charming in sidewalk posters, now you could sense their presence squeezing at your jugular.

“You are so much prettier in person, Y/N.” His voice is disturbingly soft and calm, intimately quiet as he takes a whiff of your neck, moving you to make it easier, his free hand creeped towards your hip– I was so glad when I saw your picture and you weren’t hideous.”

Trembling against him, a nonexistent cold draft blew against you, your whole body shivering and covered in goosebumps.

His eyes fixated in your breast, mouth agape as his tongue dared to lick his lip, watching you like a starved man at a las vegas buffet, his hand slithering upwards, you know where this is leading, you can’t stop crying but you can’t scream either, you're just there as his hand avoids your breasts and creeps towards your back and presses your bodies together.

“I’m so glad you signed that sheet, I was getting sad endlessly waiting for one of you to agree to the deal” He says quietly, you stare at him and you realize you should’ve actually read that stupid sheet– why so scared? I ain’t gonna bite.” He bites the air as a joke and you could tell that that single bite could have torn your finger off cleanly.

His eyes shift to your clinging fingers that stayed so stiff against his padded suit, you stopped squeezing at him now they rested limp against him.

“Let’s watch a movie…”

It’s an awkward dance concluding in sitting down on a couch, its surprisingly soft and you’re sinking on the cushion while your mind dissolved in the sky, the coffee table had a humbled spread of snacks, pizza and milkshakes, not once did you notice, you stared at him clutching at your dress as he picked something out of the shelve, watching as his hand worked the VHS player, the clicks and whirling all you could focus on. He sat beside you as the speakers began to play the included trailers, he took the drink urging you to do the same with a menacing look, filling you with incomplete thoughts as you obeyed.

Malt vanilla marinated in your tongue, you had a terrible thought.

‘Milk’

You were there to provide milk… to whom? Why just milk? You thought they would sell your body or your organs, experiment on you but… they wanted your milk, but who was buying it? Who was drinking it? Where did it go? You stared at the pretty blond whose arm kept your shoulders still, you saw the news– you’d known he had a child and who knows with whom but his kid was old enough to not need it… was it for him? You thought… thinking of it as ridiculous until you remember how 20 minutes ago he was staring at your tits as if he was malnourished, you looked at his lips pursing as he took a long sip of his milkshake and wonder if that was milk… from a cow… not a heifer like you.

Homelander smiled at you.

“I don’t like ‘The mothman prophecy’ , never been a Richard Gere fan” he said casually.

“He was really good in ‘Pretty Woman’ . This one is okay…” You looked at the screen your voice so stiff– what’s going on…? Mr. Homelander… I…"

“Shhh… watch the movie” He leaned against you resting his head on your shoulder– you tasted the best… every batch perfection– such delicate custardy taste… So this is what we are gonna do… I’ll keep you in this floor so you’re not so bored ."

You swear he’s purring as he rubs himself against you marking you as much as he was making himself comfortable.

“There’s cameras everywhere… The glass is bulletproof, doors won’t open without a fob and code, and there’s no phones or internet, but if you do manage to get out of here just be aware I’ll know.” He said such terrible things as if it was nothing– if you tried to off yourself there will be 3 armed guards and nurses here in less than a minute but if you behave I promise you– you’ll be allowed out, but only if you gain my trust.” He looks up at you as you focus on those thin lips of his– there’s no kitchen but your meals will be delivered… if you want anything just tell the camera over there.”

He pointed at the corner tucked in between two VHS tapes was a small camera.

“I like you Y/N you're cute… you’ll behave for me, right?”

You nodded, too afraid to disagree.

“Now… let’s finish the movie… I actually like this part”

You stared at the pizza box, you could at least tell that the pizza was from an american restaurant, which made you feel safe ‘Select Pizza and Grill” said in the box and you knew you were somewhere in Pennsylvania, far from your apartment in Clinton Hill.

You looked at your boobs feeling his piercing gaze on them, you started drawing lines connecting weird things together, back when you were donating your milk, girls joked about people buying for medicinal and fetish purposes, this spelled itself out for you.

Maybe you could get out of here… but you had to do something weird… but as you heard the birds outside and the warm light peeked into the room, you realized maybe you could leave… no you’ll leave, you’ll go back home and you would find a way to ruin this man and those bastards beneath you, you’ll get them out too, so you took one courageous breath and forced a smile on your dried lips.

“You really liked it?”

“Huh?”

“My milk…” You mumbled– you know I never tasted it myself but am glad to get a review.”

“It’s really tasty” he bites his lip.

Your hand plays with one of the buttons on the dress.

“It hurts a bit… I usually get asked to pump around this time… dunno if you know this but it's a bit painful when they get this swollen.”

The look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know and as you leaned away from him pulling on buttons with slightly trembling fingers, you watched him follow your movements like a snake chasing prey.

“Would you help me out, mister superhero?” Is not flirty but is slightly playful and you’re surprised that you can lie that well, he’s so shameless as he shakes his head enthusiastically, mouth opening for you– please don’t bite.”

He gasps as you let him see all that he’d wanted from the get go, why he put you in that box, why you ended up in this place for.

His body was lighter than you thought as he sunk against you-- eyes closed, body limp against yours, he made the softest sounds it put you at ease somehow, for a moment you saw a very small being latched on your chest, you’d only experienced it once before, and it was seared into your mind as a painful yet tender memory, so you close your eyes dreaming of a fantasy far removed from this peculiar reality, half lid eyes found a man so blissed out your lips curved, this was unbelievable, the world most famous supe keeping you hostage just so you could indulged him.

But you knew now… that this was your way out.

#homelander #homelander x reader #personal #the boys fanfic #my fic tag #plz forgive my use of firecracker gif #this is not proofread i died like a dog if i must #homelander x fem!reader #the boys amazon

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mrskokushibo · 5 months ago

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BEG !!!

Kokushibo x fem!reader

Summary: Upper Moon One is your lover, and you wronged him.... He is angry and you deserve what is coming to you... Are you scared yet?

Warnings: MDNI, NSFW, smut, mentions of cheating (fem partner cheats on Koku with a certain rainbow-eyed blond demon), rough sex, rough anal, rough oral, dub-con, mild degradation, sex as punishment (for his partner cheating on him).

Masterlist

Footsteps echoed in the large hallway. It was him. In just a moment he would enter the chamber. You longed for him, craved him. The knot in your underbelly was now pressing unbearably, all you wanted was to feel his thick length inside you.

But today was different, there was also the terrible lump in your throat, fighting for your attention. What you did was wrong, so terribly wrong… But then again, Kokushibo promised to be back within a week. Weeks went by with no news other than the occasional report that came to Muzan, passed on to you.

And then there was the party, to welcome the young, new upper moon. He was tall with the most perfect physique. His hair was long and almost white and then those sparkling eyes….in all colours of the rainbow. His charisma and charm were overwhelming. In such stark contrast to the dirt, he whispered in your ear by the end of the evening. You could not resist, could anyone? If it was not so wrong it would have been worth it, he was beyond experienced too. The memory of the things he did to you made you blush even now, even though the fear of your approaching lover was gripping you in an ever-tightening vice.

Kokushibo entered the room, without a word put aside his katana, and walked up to you, his eyes glaring at you with a look you have never seen before. You should have fallen to the ground, begged for forgiveness, and apologise, but as silly and stunned as you were, you simply stood up and smiled awkwardly.

``Welcome back, Kokushibo-sama´´.

You felt so uneasy and stupid, but it was now too late to correct this behaviour. Because without uttering a word, he grabbed you by the back of your neck, claws digging into the delicate skin, and pushed you down to the ground, until you were where you should have been from the start: on your knees.

His lip twitched slightly, and he bared his fangs in a condescending grin.

`You betrayed me, whore. I thought you were better than to fuck around while I am away. You will pay for this and by the end of it you will be begging me to stop´´.

The look in his eyes was growing more and more terrifying. There was lust, but also something cold and cruel, you only saw this once before… when he was fighting his enemies. A shiver ran down your spine.

`´Is he really going to kill me? ´´ you thought.

Sure, he spared the young upper moon, but only because Muzan intervened. The youngster was obviously valuable to him. This angered Kokushibo even more than your betrayal. But why would he spare you? You were replaceable, only made his lover because of your looks and charm. He could have anyone he pleased… He could now smell your fear, it surged through his senses like a powerful stimulant, it was awakening his aggression and sending it to new heightened levels.

``Do you think I am going to kill you, hm? That would be too easy on you. I still want you around to please me. So no, I shall spare your life, but after tonight you will learn your place´´.

In complete silence, he untied his hakama and revealed his enormous member, already erect, with precum dripping down the shaft. Normally, you would start your usual routine of sucking and licking, but this time you did not even have time to react before his hand twisted your hair in a tight grip and yanked your head forward toward his cock.

``Open your mouth´´ he commanded in a voice so hoarse and deep that despite the overwhelming fear, you felt your juices run down your thigh.

Like a puppet you obeyed and with one brutal move, he shoved the entire length of his cock into your throat. He groaned and started pumping at a relentless tempo. His spare hand was now gripping your throat, while the other was holding a firm grip on the back of your head with your hair tied around his thick wrist. You could barely breathe now, being basically on the verge of fainting. You were seeing stars but for all the wrong reasons. Eventually, you felt his cock grow and within seconds he came deep inside your throat, his orgasm accompanied by a powerful thrust. He kept on pumping, letting all his seed come out properly until pulling out. You slumped on the ground like a ragdoll. Spit and semen dropped out of your ruined mouth.

Without a word, he grabbed you under one of your arms and dragged you to the futon. With ease, possessing such unearthly strength, he tossed you onto the mattress. You were now on your back with him towering over you. With one quick move, he ripped your clothes off exposing your naked body to the beast that he was quickly turning into.

He then removed his kimono. As always, you gasped at the sight of his magnificent, perfectly toned strong body. His black hair clinging to his sweaty chest in unruly locks.

His long, sinewy, and clawed fingers started to trace your folds, spreading them and rubbing slightly. You were wet and needy. A moan left your lips when he parted your folds fully and pressed one of his fingers against your clit. His movement was lewd and lazy. He positioned himself between your legs and in an unkind manner kicked them to the side to make more room for himself. Once again, without a warning, he thrust his cock inside you with one quick move. This time it was your cunt he started abusing. The initial pain quickly dissipated into indescribable pleasure as his full length and girth were hitting all the right spots. Your moans were growing louder, but just as you were nearing your release, he pulled out.

``Do you think I am here to please you, bitch? Do you?´´

He almost hissed into your ear, his weight crushing you under him and leaving you gasping for air. His lips traced down your neck, bared fangs grazing along, leaving marks.

He raised himself up to hover over you and his eyes grew darker. He grinned as he lifted himself off you completely, he was now kneeling between your legs. Very quickly, his huge arms, wrapped around your ass and waist flipped you on your belly. He moved closer to you spreading your legs with his rough hips and thighs. You were aching to come, to make love to him, to feel pleasure, but you did not even dare to think the thought anymore.

``Please, Master, I am so sorry, I really did not mean…´´.

You could not finish your sentence because a large hand firmly covered your mouth.

``Shut up! You will speak when I tell you to speak´´ he growled.

He was now rubbing his hard cock on your folds, only to coat himself with your juices. Once he thought the lubrication was sufficient (for him, but not for you), he stretched your ass with one hand and positioned the tip of his cock on your asshole.

You were truly terrified, `` he would not, would he? `` Sure, the two of you had the occasional anal sex, but he was always gentle, there was sufficient foreplay and extra lubricant. But this? This meant one thing: pain. And the pain you would receive; because as roughly as he handled your mouth and cunt, he now did the same to your ass.

The scream that left your lips was animalistic to say the least. The pain was agonising, but your reaction only seemed to arouse him even more. He leaned down over you and sank his sharp fangs into your back, drawing blood. He was thrusting at a fast and brutal tempo, the rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin reminded more of a satanic chant than lovemaking.

The force of his thrusts was sending you forward as you tried to hold on to the sheets as best as you could. At this point, tears were rolling down your cheeks and you felt like you were sinking into a dark haze of pain and hopelessness, but also, as sick as it was:....lust.... After what felt like an eternity, he finally released himself in you. Maybe this was finally the end of it, of the punishment.. Maybe now you would get to ease your pent up desire.... But no.

He was now sitting on the futon, his legs spread, his cock already semi erect and his scarred chest glistening with sweat, all the while you were curled up on your side, marked and destroyed. The sheets were stained with cum and blood. But he didn´t let you rest.

His powerful arms pulled you up to a kneeling position in front of him. He gripped your face and moved his close to yours. He was about to kiss you. That would be a relief. But then.. you looked into his eyes and realised that the cold and cruel fire was still there. So indeed, he kissed you, but this was not a kiss of affection. It was the kiss of possessive power. His long demon tongue was deep in your throat, suffocating you and making you gag. His fangs bit your lip. He pulled away and looked at you.

``Now you will beg me for mercy, for forgiveness. You deserve everything that I am choosing to do to you.´´

He tightened his grip on you.

``So now, slut: BEG! ´´

His deep voice was teasing your insides, stirring up fear and arousal all the same.

`` I am so sorry, Master. I have been stupid, ungrateful. I know that I do not deserve your mercy, but I beg you to stop the punishment, to stop my suffering. I will do anything. Please Master, I beg you for your mercy``.

The look in his eyes softened slightly, the cold rage subsiding, but the savage lust-filled darkness was still there, merciless and wild.

`` I accept your apology, but I´m afraid that there is only one way for you to make your apology mean something``

With one powerful movement, using only one of his arms, he shoved your head into his lap, once again growling his command

``open your mouth´´

and once again he shoved his now fully erect cock into your mouth.

``I am only getting started with you, this will be your lesson to not ever wrong me like this again´´.

And the night was only young…

Banners by @cafekitsune

Hey there, my beloved @doumadono @muzansfangs @sunsblaze @horror4themasses @shonen-brainrot @crystalwolfblog @sunandflame @peachdues @cursetopia2 @warringwarrioridiot and everyone of my dear friends and mutuals ♥️. I'm re-releasing my fics. It will be a slow process over the course of next year. Thank you for your support 🙏 ❤️ 💕

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ssahotchnerr · 1 year ago

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aaron hotch where she gets hurt during a fight with a unsub and she gets really clingy, and everyone at the bau noticed. and when coming in one morning she overhears someone making fun of her to aaron because of it. she hears him laugh and walks away, and begins avoiding him.

turns out it was a fake laugh and he yelled at the guy who was brave enough to make fun of her infront of him. and he didn’t mind her clingy-ness and was glad he made her feel safe.

unwilling to part

cw; fem!reader, no established relationship/mutual pining, officer makes a mildly misogynistic comment and is just an asshole overall, small angst to comfort wc; 1.4k

your injury had been mild - as mild as it could be within your job title. some bumps and bruises, a black eye was most likely in your future. the surprise of the attack had been the worst of it; leaving you spooked, especially when your gun tumbled out of your hand and slid across the floor away from you.

but that's what backup was for, and the situation had been resolved almost as quickly as it started. aaron had heard the fight commence from his position down the hall, the loud clatter of your weapon, and to your rescue just as fast as you could blink, pulling the unsub off you and slamming his front into the nearest wall, forcefully restraining him.

due to the shock numbing your mind and body, the next few minutes were a haze. you vaguely processed aaron crouching beside you, his concerned expression or his hands cupping your face, nor did you hear his repeated question if you were alright.

all you could do was hold onto him, and he let you.

the team and a few officers had crowded around, providing quite the audience. but aaron hadn't seemed to mind; allowing you to cling onto his side until you came back to the real world, your fingers clutching onto his fbi vest. one of his own arms had been around you, escorting you to the medic, to the waiting suv, up to your hotel room. he even relayed the instruction to please call him if you needed him at all throughout the night - he'd be at yours within the second.

the following morning you had been the last one ready, soreness delaying you. your muscles ached as they pulled in every direction - simply getting your shirt on had been a tedious, and painful, task.

the jet was scheduled to leave early afternoon, allowing the morning to be spent at the pd, settling what was needed before returning home.

you could hear ongoing conversation from inside the conference room the bau had been inhabiting the past few days, but before you entered, something in your gut told you to remain put and listen.

you heard aaron first, finishing his thought. "- to be put into evidence, and the rest can be sent over to our technical analyst in quantico."

"gotcha." someone answered, another officer you presumed as the voice wasn't familiar. there was a quick shuffle of papers, a quiet thud of something being put into a box, before he voiced his next thought. "they'll let anyone into the fbi these days, won't they?"

aaron's composed voice followed, "sorry?"

"that agent who got hurt last night." at the mention of yourself, your face immediately burned - his tone not setting up for a positive. "thought you all were 'posed to be tough. with the way she was attached to your hip," he laughed, "fuckin' annoying if you ask me, that was nothing. should've stuck to an desk job if that scared her."

aaron had the heart to chuckle, and your heart dropped right to your stomach, your feet moving to their own accord as you hurried away, not craving to hear more.

tears pinched at your eyes and your body swarmed with heat, full of embarrassment and most prominently, betrayal.

what made it more painful, you could recall on one hand instances where you have heard aaron laugh (a mild exaggeration, but the point still stood) and laughing at you, was now one of them. what also didn't make sense then, the entirety of last night. even as you parted ways at the hotel room, aaron's expression, had been unwilling to part. maybe you read into it wrong, but you could've sworn that's what those brown eyes of his you loved so much indicated.

so for the rest of the day you refused to make eye contact with him, moving swiftly away if he approached, choosing to sit as far away as possible on the jet. even when you all had entered the bullpen, you beelined straight for your desk, eager for the busyness to be your next excuse to avoid contact. but, it was only a matter of time until aaron had trailed down to check on you.

"hey."

you ignored him, acting like the paperwork in front of you was suddenly the most fascinating thing you've ever seen.

aaron's brows furrowed, his question low. he had been quick to notice your clear avoidance earlier in the day, yet another reason why he wanted - needed - to make sure you were okay. "are you alright?"

"yeah, i'm supposed to be, aren't i?" you stated bluntly as you looked up at him, your tone a bit more harsh as you intended.

aaron had the audacity to look perplexed, the confusion in his tone almost convincing if you hadn't known better. "no? someone twice your size blitzed you, disarmed you-"

you slammed your file shut - causing heads to lift and look in your direction. you got up from your seat, not wanting to remain in his presence. "don't bother. i'm better suited for a desk job anyway, right?"

"wait, no." aaron moved in front of you, stopping you from moving forward. he understood immediately, or so he thought. "you heard that?"

"a black eye doesn't affect my hearing, does it?" you snapped, tears brimming your waterline.

aaron sighed deeply, his eyes playing up the shame you're certain he felt. "i'm sorry he-"

you nearly let out a laugh at that, interrupting, "sure. that guy was a ass, but don't you dare apologize for him. what about you?"

aaron's eyes widened in surprise. "me?"

"you laughed." your anger immediately dissolved, hurt filling it's place instead. it was written all over your face, making aaron's heart plummet. "i thought... look, i didn't mean to embarrass you in front of everyone if that's what i did. and i know, in and out of the field we're supposed to be objective and i let my emotions or whatever that was get the best of me. but if i can't do that, then you shouldn't have let me depend on you like... that. despite popular belief, i am tough. i can take rejection."

aaron opened his mouth to respond, but paused, as in his peripheral he noticed all the heads still turned in your shared direction. it was probably best to do this in private. "come with me."

just as last night, his hand found the small of your back, leading you up into his office, closing the door behind him. you went willingly, but remained by the doorway as he walked a bit further inside, your arms crossed.

when aaron turned to you, his eyes were sad, but compassionate.

"i did laugh," more tears burned behind your eyes at his confession, until he provided clarification. "at his idiocy. you sadly missed the good part, i believe it's safe to say he's now highly appreciative of you and the work you've done. check your email, i'm sure a thank you, if it's not already there, will be in your inbox shortly." a small laugh came from his chest. "you can even ask prentiss, she can vouch he left with his tail in between his legs."

your defense dropped, hands falling to your sides in realization. in aaron's character, of course that made more sense.

"oh god i'm sorry," your hands rose to your face, momentarily hiding in humiliation. "i heard... so i thought-"

"exactly, you heard what you heard." aaron's hands grabbed yours gently, pulling them away from your face and allowing you to see his understanding, kind one. "and given what you did hear, i wouldn't expect any less of a reaction. i also would've given me the cold shoulder." a small, closed smile formed on his lips.

"no, i'm so stupid-" aaron shook his head, stopping you halfway.

"you aren't. and despite what we do, you're still only human. you reacted appropriately." his voice softened, rather adorably at that. "i wasn't embarrassed either. i'm glad - honored actually - you can depend on me when you're frightened or need further support. trust me, you can cling onto me all you want." a faint blush tinted his cheekbones. "and i'll never push you away."

his hands squeezed yours, swinging slightly with solid emphasis. the gesture, caused you to just now realize he was still clutching onto them, unwilling to part.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x fem!reader #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine

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pricetagged · 2 months ago

Text

that death is a very stable job

Poor little Dormouse, with her cruel father and labourer's hands. You find an unexpected guard dog in one of the passing knights.

Enjoy 4.8k words of half inaccurate-medieval, half poorly-built-fantasy AU. Inspired by a few existing historical AUs (like @bi-writes 1600s au, 391780's 'the rus') and a scene from 'The Serpent Queen'. Also, I stan 'old grizzled dog with a heart Ghost' so here you go.

Warnings/content: implied domestic abuse/sex work (not Ghost), very mild suicidal ideation, violence, power imbalance (social hierarchy ew), kissing & intimacy (no smut. yet.). Reader is described as a young woman, generally body-neutral (one reference to being 'plump').

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

What makes betrayal so potent is that, by its very nature, it can only come from someone you trust. Of course, as a child you knew little of the abstracts and intricacies of trust. You knew the warmth of your mother's bosom. You knew the sharp, lingering smell of lye that clung to her chapped hands. You knew that you were not hungry or hurt for those blissful early years, at least.

You did not know that you had a father.

He spent those blissful, early years of yours fighting for a King and cause that meant far less to him than the pocketful of coins he earned and promptly spent on pleasures. But a soldier cannot earn coin in times of peace, not if he weren't a member of the standing army, so with treaties signed he shipped back to neglected wife and babe.

You did not know that fathers could be cruel.

Your mother protected you as best as she could, but slippery riverbanks and lixivium fumes were hardly safe for a little girl. So you learned to scurry about, eyes wide and feet soft as a dormouse. When your mother's whimpers and father's shouts split the silence of dusk you crouched and covered your mouth lest his attention switched to you. On the rare times your father called for you, you remembered your mother's hushed advice - be quiet, be meek, be sweet - and bobbed along to the waves of his fickle moods. When your stomach growled and gnawed you stifled it with a look at your mother's wan face, her fingers worked to the bone for mere pennies that were no longer spent on peat and produce. You lived in a cold house, an empty house. A strained house.

'Look at the size o'her, running wild, eating me out of house and home!' Lies. Your father hunched over your mother's shaking form, three meager brass farthings spilled across the crooked kitchen bench. 'You put her to work, or I will.'

The lye stung your skin. Sometimes you imagined yourself floating off, down in the frigid waters, your funeral clothes being salvinia and your shroud made of pennywort. Those thoughts rose like lily pads, big and blooming and plentiful, the autumn your mother passed.

'You've really got to work now, girl,' your Father sneered. 'Got to earn your keep now that your mother can't cry on your behalf.'

The glint in his eye pricked at your neck, made your spine stiffen and eyes shift away. Be quiet, be meek, be sweet. You wondered if your mother's advice would save you from his basest assertions, or encourage them. You would soon find out.

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

Ordinarily the Mid-Autumn festival was a slight reprieve, allowing a few days for your aching, numb fingers to warm and stretch as you enjoyed the city turned to colour. Ordinarily.

This year, you found yourself hauled down to the drinking district, your Father's blunt, filthy fingers digging into the soft meat of your upper arm. It was still daylight, thankfully, but you already felt exposed as he had you linger in the square near the public houses. You could already hear the hoots and laughter of raucous men enlivened by drink and company. The smell of stale ale and piss was not enough to cover the scent of fresh baking and roasted game drifting on the breeze. You shivered, your burned, you hungered.

Meek little dormouse, scurrying around the greasy ferret who held her tail under his claws.

Your Father's chance came as the sun was setting, candlelight just now visible through the slats and windows of taverns. Far from cozy, it reminded you of the lidded eyes of some lazy predator about to watch your ruination.

'I don't care if you are crusader to the gods themselves! Knight of the Realm or not, you can't come into my pub and throw furniture around like you're at the Solstice games!'

The snarling Madame looked comically small next to the absolute beast of a man currently ducking under the doorframe. Watching her chuck the splintered leg of a chair after him you thought her lucky that he didn't want more of a fuss. You had never seen a man so big, so broad, seeming bigger whilst dressed still in his mail and wearing the colours of the King. He merely grunted as he made his way to the tethering post, letting her threats and screeches fizzle into the cool, twilight air. Leather-gloved hands worked at the harness of the dappled stallion you had been admiring earlier, easily more than 18 hands tall and capable of carrying this brute. You had imagined earlier slicing that very harness and riding hard across the cobblestones away from your father. Away anywhere.

'Good sir, are you in need of lodgings?' The words dripped from your Father's lips like ichor. You could smell the sickly underlying rot.

The Knight's hands stilled, head still lowered. His voice rumbled out, deep and rough as gravel.

'You offerin', then? 'ow much will that cost me?'

'Well, it's busy in the Festival. The guest houses are full but my home is open to weary travelers-'

A barked laugh cut him off. The Knight raised his head, pinning your father in place like a moth in a hobbybook. You quickly looked away, pretending to busy yourself with a nearby fruit cart. His face was covered, a dark black slash across his lower face like an empty maw. But his eyes. You could have drowned in those eyes, dark as they were. They pulled you in more than the call of the river on your bad days. If you stared too long you'd never wade out.

'Ain't you charitable,' you couldn’t see his mouth but you were sure that he sneered.

'Well, a former soldier should be willing to support the Crown. Although, with a mouth to feed a few coins wouldn't go amiss..' his hand swept back and you tried not to cringe away.

'Former solider, eh?' Your Father clearly had the Knight's attention now. As did you. Though you continued to look away you felt his gaze like you felt touch. Like he was grasping you, keeping you still. Your head felt heavy as you raised it towards them, now a part of this bargain whether you wanted to be or not.

'I know what it's like to seek the comfort of a warm hearth and soft bed. I would not see you ride off into the cold night.'

The Knight huffed; you could almost mistake it for a laugh. Though quiet, the voices and laughter of the nearby inns seemed quieter, like all sound and light was absorbed by this armoured beast. Once, just after your mother died, you headed to the riverbank as always for work. It was barley daybreak, some of the older more experienced women already beginning their washing, but you walked on. And on. Until the river led you to its mouth, rushing and rocky and dangerous. You wanted to jump in. You felt the same now, gazing at this man.

'How much for the girl, then?' He looked right at you as he said it, catching your wide, staring eyes. You didn't blink, couldn't look away.

'She is my daughter! Sir, I-' that same rot, spewing out of his mouth.

'I didn't ask who she is, I asked 'ow much?'

Your Father took a step towards him, faltering under the weight of his gaze. He leaned, then, trying to seem ashamed. Trying to seem like a father should.

'Sir, she is my daughter. I can do nothing but take offence at what you are suggesting.'

The Knight pulled out a small velvet purse, heavy and distended with coins. They clinked as they smacked into the cobbles at your Father's feet. All pretenses dropped, then, as he scrambled to pick it up with greedily shaking fingers. Prize in hand, he found his courage as he sidled closer to him, thick neck open and exposed as he leaned in to whisper his betrayal. His filicide.

'She's a bit older, yes, but unused to the ways of men, mind. With a firm hand I'm sure she cou-' a gloved fist at his throat turned perfidy to gasps. You watched red bloom instantly under those fingers, and marveled at the strength. The violence.

'Your own daughter,' he sneered. 'What kind of man, soldier at that, would sell his daughter to a man like me?'

Your Father was bigger than you, yes, but looked like a poppet in the hands of this beast, so easily dragged towards him ready to be shaken in his maw.

'I'd love to think that she isn't yours, that she's some whore you peddle out to drunken leches in the alley. But you're slimier than an eel in birdshit, aren't ya?'

You didn't move, didn't speak as you saw his fingernails scrabbling uselessly against the unforgiving strength. You, for a small moment, felt the claw release your tail. Run, you thought. A look at this behemoth and his horse had you thinking again. Run where?

Be quiet, be meek, be sweet.

'Please!' The plea bubbled up your throat like acid.

He said nothing, did not loosen his grasp, as he tilted his head like a dog.

'It is as he says. He is my father,' you continued.

A scoff stilled your words.

'Some father, look at the state of ya.'

You looked down at your chapped, scarred hands. Your patched, slightly-too-short skirts. You felt the throb of the bruises on your upper arms, the beginnings of hollowness eating away at your usually plump cheeks.

'You mistake me, Sir,' You could barely hear your voice over the blood rushing in your ears. 'I am not asking for his life. I am asking you to take me with you. Please.'

Silence. His eyes flickered over you anew, contemplating. Your hummingbird heart fluttered in your chest.

'Close y'r eyes, girl. Until I say.' Your shocked hesitance made him growl. 'Now!'

The imprints of tavern candlelight burned behind your lids. You let the corners of your mouth flick up.

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

Your Knight's name was Simon. The Ghost, it was rumoured. You weren't seasoned on the field so you knew not of his reputation, but the reaction of those you encountered gave it away. Even without the blood staining his hands he was imposing. Tall, broad, intense. You still hadn't seen under the kerchief he kept around his face, but you spent many nights imagining. Was his nose crooked, or was it a trick of the light on fabric? Did he have stubble across his jaw that matched the fine, blond strands that decorated the top of his head? Did he smile? Scowl? Was he handsome?

He was gruff, certainly. You spent the first few days obeying your mantra - be quiet, be meek, be sweet -but it didn't provoke anything in him at all. Neither praise nor censure. It seemed, rather, that he was determined that your presence would be nothing more than a fact of circumstance. Not worth much fuss.

'She needs winter clothes. A nice dress. A travelling cloak. And some boots.'

That was how you found yourself perfectly still, getting prodded and pinned in the parlour of a tailor shop in the city's mid-tier. The seamstress' cheeks burned red as she turned her disapproving eyes between her task and the Knight who refused to leave the dressing area. He dwarfed the chaise, leather and chains indenting delicate brocade. After a grunted 'She's my Charge. If you want my coin, then 'm not leavin'' he sat silent. Just kept his eyes on your face. As always.

You couldn't find it in you to feel embarrassed. He'd done no more than see you in your petticoats, even at the guesthouses where you lodged for the night. An altogether better set up that you could've envisioned for yourself. You had thought your Father like a sly weasel, thought any future husband like a carrion crow ready to pick over whatever your Father left. But you thought Simon like a grizzled old guard dog. A dormouse held no interest when bigger prey was to be had. When you didn't pose a threat.

He clothed you. Fed you. Ordered hot bathwater for your room - a luxury you had never experienced - and otherwise left you alone. All he touched you with was his gaze, steady and unashamed. Strange how you now saw your silence -quiet, meek- as a barrier.

'Where are we going?' You worked up the courage to ask as you rode behind him up to the next tier of the city, seeing wooden roofs change to tile.

'The Palace.'

'The Palace? What, but what about me?'

'You asked me to take you wiv me, didn' ya?' you felt the rumble of his words all the way from his chest to your arms.

'Yes, but.. What, what will I do there? How will you explain this?'

You realised now your lack of foresight. You foolishly assumed that someone high-ranking wouldn't be starting brawls in lower-tier taverns. Or magistrating over scoundrels due to the sale of their daughters. You thought, perhaps, of an impoverished country knight who came to the city only for the festivities. You could bargain your way (or slip away) if he turned out to be just as bad as your progenitor, and make a living in one of the towns or hamlets that stretched along the woodlands of the Kingdom. Foolish girl.

'No one will ask questions. No one will bother ya,' You believed him, felt the threat in his words.

'But they'll think. They'll wonder.' I wonder, you thought to yourself.

'Can't stop that,' He snorted. 'Why don't you ask me what you really want to ask?' He pulled sharply on the reigns, causing you to clutch hard around his waist and whisper your words pressed into his back.

'What are you going to do with me?'

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

"Ho, Simon! Hard to drag ye from yer hermitage in Northmire,' you stared as a smiling Isleman slapped your Knight hard on the back, hooking his arm and dragging him down into the booth. 'And ye've brought a wee Bonnie thing with y-'

'That'll do, Johnny,' Simon growled. Still, he let himself be handled onto the bench. He looked at you, standing still, staring at the other side of the table. 'Well? You sitting down or wot?'

You scrambled down beside him, too timid to sit next to the laughing stranger. Too wary to put your back to the rest of the tavern. Past Simon's profile, you snuck a peek at the man - Johnny - and found him looking back at you. He looked friendly, sure, but you were reminded of the harriers that plucked young hens from the woods. His eyes were too sharp, too bright. His smile was a little wicked, too. Too intense to be without danger.

'Well, the King'll be happy. He'll finally have a real reason to say naw to all the harpy mothers pecking at him about their single daughters. Cannae say I expected it, but congratulations,' You blinked. 'Cannae believe you beat Garrick to it an' all, thought fer sure he'd be the dutiful one. Well, first that is.'

Simon ignored him as he flagged down the serving girl. He ordered for you, as always.

'Bit bold of ye, though, plastering her in your colours. Scared o' a challenge to her? Like anyone would chance their arm seeing her wi' you, Your Grace,' Johnny laughed again, blue eyes shining as he watched Simon's jaw tick under the scarf. 'Go oan then, introduce us.'

'Dormouse, meet Johnny.'

'Aw, come oan!' Johnny leaned over, then. 'He's forgotten his manners all the way oot in Northmire. I'm John MacTavish, of the Northern Isles. I've known this one fer a while, but never knew him tae settle.'

You squeaked out your own name in return, quickly taking a sip of the weak ale Simon pushed in front of you. Gave yourself more time to take stock. He too had the King's colours in a sash across his chest. Unlike Simon, he wasn't wearing full mail or a face covering. A heavy shirt of forest green, a red tartan kilt, and thick knitted socks were his attire of choice. Blue warpaint swirled from his temples down to his jaw, and he'd shaved his hair only on the sides. Not commonly seen in the Tiered City, but you knew the islanders to the North of the mountain wore similar garb. You let your eyes catch the glint of a dagger in his socks, as well as the hefty broadsword hooked by the table. The warpaint on his face was not just for decoration.

You stayed quiet, munching on thick slices of bread dipped in broth as they talked, Low, rumbling voices and warmth from the hearth lulled you to a wakeful sleep, eyes still open but mind calm. MacTavish had called Simon 'Your Grace'. You were wearing his colours. You were going to the Palace. Something about that niggled at you, deep at the base of your skull.

You woke to Simon gently sliding you along the bench. Big hands and stained fingers so soft, like you were an overripe damson he wanted to preserve.

'Time for bed. C'mon, mouse.'

'Why do you call me that?' You murmured, still feeling his arm around you as he led you to your rooms. 'I never told you that was my Mother's nickname for me. Dormouse.'

You felt him huff out a laugh, pressed close against you.

'Didn't need ya to. It's obvious.' he answered after a pause. He leaned down, bracing you against the room door. Only his scarf separated you from his flesh, close as you were. Wide eyes meeting dark. You shared the same breath.

'You're quiet like one. Seem sweet. But I saw you'd be willing to chew y'r own leg off to escape a trap,' he whispered that horrible truth so tenderly. His blunt, calloused fingers left firetrails on your cheek. 'My mouse. My survivor.'

His thick forearm braced your back as he opened the door, stopping your from tumbling into the emptiness behind. He needn't have bothered; you'd already fallen into him.

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

'How many more days' to the Palace?'

'Two, if we don't loiter. Johnny'll meet us at the gates to the Citadel.'

You looked up, seeing the Palace fortress taller and more intimidating than it had ever seemed down at the city's lowest levels. You were awed by the mason and marble buildings up here, the clean streets and cleaner people. Everything seemed to gleam this high-up. This close to the sun. Close to the Palace. Your skin had started to heal, after a week or so without labour and with good meals and rest, but you could see the discolouration that would never fade. It made you pick at your sleeves. Dormice didn't gleam. They hid.

You looked at the wide streets and their sun-bleached stones. Nowhere to hide here.

'And when we get there? What will happen?'

'We'll greet the Court. I have news for the King. They'll be a Ball f' the Festival. And you,' Simon stilled your steps, 'You will be good. You'll do as I tell ya. Not everyone is a friend. And I won't always be wiv ya.'

Perhaps you imagined it but you swore you could see something soft - warm - in those dark eyes of his as you nodded. You had years of experience avoiding the attentions of predators; you could do the same for Simon.

When you reached the Citadel Gates Johnny was waiting as foretold, chatting with a guardsman by the pulleys. He perked up as he spotted Simon's horse, all dappled grey with black skull harness. A proud danse macabre, carrying The Ghost.

'Here they are, the Duke and Duchess of Northmire! Let them pass, go oan. Here, raise his banner.'

It was a good thing that your blood turned to ice in your veins; it prevented you from letting go of Simon's waist. You watched as a square banneret in the same colours as your new travelling cloak - and dresses, and overskirts, and, and - rose to flutter slightly below the banner of the King. The wind lured the heavy fabric to thwack against the sky, echoing the drumbeats of your tambour heart. What were you marching towards?

Johnny had mounted his own stead, canting a light pace next to you and Simon.

'Ye should hae seen the ponces and pricks - sorry, My Lady - who came riding up here in their carriages this mornin'. I ken they think they were showing off but the guards and I were havin' a barry laugh watching the wheels get stuck in the cobbles and streets from the mid-tier all the way up-'

'Y'r point, Johnny?'

'Alright, cool yer blood. The point is, we've got tae change our travel plans. Be at the Palace tomorrow, nae a day later.' He sent Simon a significant look that you weren't so stunned as to miss. 'We've got a night hosted by Garrick's sister, then we'll be off in the morning.'

'Garrick's sister' was a comely, slender woman with sharp eyes and a kind smile. She, or rather the Garrick family, kept a townhouse in the top tier close to the Citadel as well as their estate at Thamesbury. As a close peers and allies of her brother, her doors and hospitality were open to you all. You didn't want to seem like the uncultured urchin you were, but even the entry hall surpassed any luxury you'd seen thus far. You had to suppress an instinctual flinch as her manservant stepped behind you to reach for your cloak. Or perhaps the lessons from the streets were written all over your wide eyes. You saw Johnny chew on a smile as Simon glared down at the man, massive arms crossing across his great oak chest.

'That'll do,' he growled. 'There are saddlebags to be seen to.'

The poor man scarpered with a stuttered, 'Of course, Your Grace.'

You stared after your Knight as he stomped up the stairs, heavy footfalls disturbing the frames of the Garrick ancestors across the walls. He looked back, silhouetted with a hand outstretched.

'C'mon then.'

His rough, warm hand enclosed yours and you followed him to exegesis.

Ensconced in your chambers - shared chambers, marriage chambers - you found your tongue.

'Should I be calling you 'Your Grace'?' Be meek, be sweet.

He snorted, inelegant against the filigree and flowers that bore witness to your unsettled feelings.

Be meek, be sweet. Be meek, be sweet. Be meek-

'I do not speak in jest, Simon. Sorry, 'Your Grace',' Your mouth twisted, trembling with the force of holding back. 'I asked you to take me with you, yes, and I have tried not to inconvenience you beyond…beyond the circumstances of our meeting. But I must demand, now. Tell me what is going on.'

He merely tilted his head, old grizzled dog on a velvet chaise. You could see his lips - what did they look like, what did they feel like? - move under the black of his kerchief.

'We're in a guest room, talkin'. Listenin' to you ask stupid questions.'

'If the question seems stupid it is because you have made it so!' You felt your stubby nails bite into your calloused palms. The feeling made you shake, brought tears to your eyes. Shame and fear turned saliva to acid. You flung your hands towards him. 'Look! You see these. These are not the hands of a girl addressed as 'Duchess'. If this is a joke, I ask you to stop it now. I am grateful to you, I will remain so always, but playing in this manner is lower than whatever my Father had-'

"Do not. Compare me. To that man.' His growl cut you from cutaneous to cartilage, exposing your raw, soft innards. You hoped he'd be kind. Even if he chewed on your heart, popping gristle between sharp canines, perhaps you'd be a part of him, dripping down his throat with an intimacy you longed to initiate.

Viper-quick, your hands were in his. Your lap was in his too. Too warm, too bulky, too close.

'Quit y'r squirmin'. Look at me, no. Look!' Your jaw was turned more gently than you expected from hands made for violence. You couldn't meet his eyes, but that mattered not as he brought your hand and his up to your sight. 'Look. My hands aren't delicate neither.'

You took a deep breath, feeling him pant underneath you, and reached to cup his hand in yours. Butterfly-soft, you turned it, watching candlelight catch on silver scars and pockmarks. Deep gouges and veins raised valleys between knuckles and wrist. One finger seemed slightly too short, like the top joint had been lost in some gruesome accident. When you looked at the palm, it was calloused. You had already felt its roughness, deep imprints from years of work. Of war. He flexed, closing his fingers around yours.

'I'm not 'of the blood'. I'm good at spillin' it, but the stuff inside me isn't worth much. Was a Squire. Then a Knight. Caught some eyes on the battlefield and was sent to defend the borders. Became a Margrave for it an' all. Now I'm a Duke. The titles don't mean much t'me, except I've got more coin and can tell nobles to fuck off without spending a day in the stocks.'

You're not sure whether your sigh was a laugh.

'Then, what? Please, Simon. What are we doing here?'

With your face this close to him you were reminded of the night in the tavern where you first met Johnny. You felt that you were sharing the same breath then. Now, here on his lap, you felt more. The warmth of his body that leeched through your skirts. The hard press of tough leather plackart. The pounding of his heartbeat - or was it yours - as you clutched his hand with trembling strength. That same trembling strength had you meeting his eyes at last, your position allowing you to be equal in height. His pupils dilated under scarred eyebrows, deep brown melting into pitch black.

'I took you wiv' me. It was sealed in blood. You're mine.'

You cupped his jaw, feeling stubble peek through his scarf. The sensation grounded you, kept you from flying off as his words used all the world's gravity.

'Bit of a terrible dowry, blood.' You whispered, a whisker away from his lips.

'I'm not made for anything else.'

Wrong, you thought as you pressed your parted lips to his covered ones. You were made for me.

His hand trailed up your arm as yours trailed across his jaw, two bodies with one mind. With deft, strong fingers you removed the last barrier between you. Black fluttered to the floor, still flesh-warm, and your lips met again. His lips were a little thin, but hungry. He groaned, supplicant to your taste, as you sought to press him closer. You could feel stubble tickling your chin, and the firm outline of another scar close to his cupid's bow. Lightning struck across the back of your neck, making you shudder against him. All you could taste, all you could smell, all you could feel was Simon.

And he all was yours.

After his face mask fell, so too did all barriers. You feel asleep together, entwined on the same bed. You awoke to his face made soft in the morning light. Sunbeams danced in the crevices of his scars, pale and rugged like the mountain you'd looked up at as a child. You watched, sentry, as you mapped the features of his face. Golden hair, golden stubble. A crooked nose that had been broken and set several times. Tributaries of scars running down to a strong jaw. And dark, unwavering eyes that creased a little as you met his gaze.

'G'mornin'.'

'Good morning,' You murmured, still sleep-soft. You traced along his lips, laughing as he nipped softly. 'Why do you cover this up?'

'To preserve my modesty,' he smirked as his tongue flicked out to soothe your nipped fingertips.

'Simon!'

'I'll tell ya. One day. When we get back 'ome. I don't trust everyone in this city.'

'You can trust me,' you whispered as you pressed your tingling digits into his mouth, catching on blunt teeth.

You felt the heat of his gaze bring blood to your cheeks. His eyes didn't leave yours as he pressed his teeth down softly. You knew the dog wouldn't bite.

'I know, Simon. I trust you too,' You leaned your forehead against his. 'Just, wherever you go, take me with you.'

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

Got a part ii drafted (palace intrigue, meet John and Gaz, Ghost and his mouse finally enjoy marital rites *wink*, conflict, etc., eventual HEA) but I'm not sure if there's an audience for it. And this is the first writing I've published in y e a r s since my cringe forays into dark videogame smut as a 19 y/o, so I'm not really confident. This is unedited/not proofread. Here ya go~

#wipes rust off hands #anyway yeah lol simon is v much of the 'i found her i keep her' mindset and i love him for it #i am very shy and nervous #can u tell i like alliteration and metaphors and commas?#????????#how do people talk and write dialogue #simon riley/reader #simon ghost riley/reader #ghost/reader #Medieval AU #Knight SImon Riley #cod fanfic #my writing #báirseach writes

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lizzieolseniskinda · 1 month ago

Text

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 5

SDE MASTERLIST - FEM!reader (POC!reader)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 7618

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate & time travel au, english is not my first language

After dinner more students came walking in, also trying to get ahead of their studies they had to do. You were sitting hunched over a stack of divination books, feeling more lost with each page you flipped through. Tea leaves, crystal balls, and other things were starting to feel like utter gibberish to you.

Ben sat across from you, lazily flipping through a copy of ‘Unfogging the Future’, looking bored as ever. Next to you was Cressida, her brow furrowed in intense concentration as she read through your notes. Both of them had long forgotten about their DADA work.

“This is impossible,” you groaned, rubbing your temples. “How is anyone supposed to ‘see the future’ in a cup of tea leaves? They all look the same to me.”

Cressida looked up from her notes, a sympathetic smile on her face. “It’s all about interpretation, Y/n. You’re not really seeing the future—it’s more like... reading symbols and trusting your instincts.”

You sighed, not feeling particularly comforted by that explanation. “I don’t think I have the right instincts for this.”

Ben leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he observed your struggle with mild amusement. “I’m starting to think Divination is less about predicting the future and more about seeing how many students can predict their own failure,” he said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, pushing the book away slightly. “Right! I just don’t get it. How am I supposed to see something in a teacup?”

Cressida laughed softly, scooting her chair closer to yours. “Okay, let’s break this down a bit. What are you supposed to be studying for this week’s lesson? Something about dream interpretations, right?”

You nodded, pulling out another crumpled piece of parchment with your notes. “Yeah, dreams and omens. We have to analyze a dream and interpret what it means, but I’m hopeless at it. My last one was apparently too ‘mundane.’”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Too mundane? What was it about, rabbits hopping in a meadow or something?”

You snorted. “Close. I said it was about losing my shoes in the middle of a forest.”

Ben grinned, clearly amused. “Well, I can see why that wouldn’t impress Onai. Sounds like a real catastrophe.”

Cressida, however, looked thoughtful. “Wait, losing your shoes… Professor Onai always talks about symbolism. Maybe the shoes represent something—like protection, or grounding. And losing them means you’re vulnerable or unprepared for something.”

You blinked, surprised by how easily Cressida came up with that explanation. “You’re a natural at this. Maybe you should be taking Divination instead of me.”

Cressida smiled, a little flattered. “I’ve just read enough of this nonsense to know what they’re all looking for.”

Ben leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Alright, what if we make up something properly dramatic? Say you dreamed of falling into a dark pit filled with snakes. Or better yet, you saw a tower collapsing, and you were trapped inside.”

Cressida giggled, and you shook your head, though you couldn’t help but smile. “Professor Onai would love that, I’m sure.”

“I’m serious!” Ben said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Tell her the tower represents Hogwarts, and the snakes are obviously Slytherin. You’re predicting a major catastrophe involving the school—maybe a rival house betrayal or something.”

“Yeah, and then she’ll probably assign me extra work to prevent this disaster,” you said dryly, though the idea was starting to sound more and more plausible.

Cressida, still chuckling softly, reached over to your notes and scribbled something down. “Okay, how about we meet in the middle? You dreamt you were lost in a maze, with mist swirling all around you. Every path leads you to different choices, but none of them feel right. Then, just before you wake up, you see a figure at the center of the maze, but you can’t reach them.”

You raised an eyebrow, looking over the notes she’d written. “And that means…?”

“Uncertainty about your future, perhaps. The figure represents some unresolved aspect of your life, maybe even something you’re afraid of or trying to avoid.” Cressida explained, her voice soft but confident.

Ben nodded, impressed. “That’s actually pretty good, C. I’d buy it.”

You glanced between the two of them, grateful for their help. “Alright, thanks. I’ll use that. At least it sounds more mystical than my shoe fiasco.”

Ben flipped the page of his book with a dramatic flair, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement. “It’s all guesswork, really. Professor Onai just likes to act as though it’s some mystical art when half the time she’s just making things up. Here, can you try this? I wanna see.” He slid a page of the book toward you, pointing to a section with interpretations of tea leaves.

You glanced at it, reading over the different shapes and symbols.

“Right,” you muttered, staring blankly at the page. “So, what if I see something that looks like... I don’t know, a blob? Or just random dots? Does that mean I’m doomed?”

Ben snorted, trying to suppress a laugh. “In that case, you could probably get away with saying it’s a ‘fog of uncertainty’ and that the future is still unclear. Sounds mysterious enough, doesn’t it?”

You looked between the two of them, part of you wanting to laugh at how ridiculous this whole thing was. “So, I just have to bluff my way through it?”

Cressida rolled her eyes, “Ben’s not entirely wrong, though,” she admitted, pushing her Divination notes toward you. “The trick is to sound confident, even if you have no idea what you’re saying. Professor Onai eats that up. If you act like you’re seeing something profound, she’ll believe you.”

Ben leaned forward, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Exactly. Bluff your way through like a true Seer. If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll ‘predict’ something dramatic, and they’ll be impressed.”

You groaned, resting your forehead on the table. “This is hopeless. I can’t even read a dumb tea leaf.”

Cressida chuckled softly, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “It’s not hopeless. Divination just... takes a different mindset. It’s not like Charms or Transfiguration where everything’s logical and concrete. It’s more about intuition, like Ben said. You’re probably overthinking it.”

You turned your head to look at her, half-convinced she was right. But it was hard to shake the feeling that this was all just guesswork. “I guess I’m just not used to the idea of relying on intuition. I like things to make sense.”

Ben grinned, leaning back in his chair once again, clearly enjoying your frustration. “Then you’ll love this next bit. In palmistry,” he said, flipping through his book until he found the right page, “you can tell someone’s life expectancy just by looking at how long their lifeline is.”

“Is that actually real?” you asked, frowning in disbelief.

Ben raised his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk. “No. Not really, well, I don’t think so. But it doesn’t stop people from believing it. See? Divination’s all about confidence.”

Cressida shot him a playful look. “You’re supposed to be helping, not making her more confused.”

“I am helping,” Ben protested, though the grin on his face said otherwise. He looked back at you, his expression softening. “Alright, alright. If you really want to get through this, here’s a tip: go for the vague predictions. No one can prove them wrong. Something like... ‘I sense a great change in the future,’ or ‘Someone close to you will make an important decision.’ People cannot get enough of that stuff.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I think I can manage that.”

Cressida beamed at you. “See? You’ll be fine! You’ve just got to let yourself relax into it.”

She pulled out a teacup from her bag—she’d clearly come prepared to study for every class tonight—and set it on the table. “Here, why don’t we practice? I can help you read the leaves.”

Ben groaned dramatically but leaned in nonetheless, curiosity getting the better of him. “Oh, this ought to be good. I want to hear Y/n’s grand prophecy.”

You shot the Ravenclaw a mock glare but picked up the cup anyway, swirling the tea leaves around before setting it back down. You and Cressida leaned in together to look at the patterns in the bottom of the cup.

“Alright,” Cressida said softly, squinting at the leaves. “What do you see?”

You frowned, staring at the scattered leaves, trying to make sense of the shapes. “Uh... a black dot?”

Ben burst out laughing silently, and even Cressida couldn’t stifle her giggles.

“Well… that’s one way to start,” Cressida said, still smiling. “But look closer—see those two leaves here? They’re almost in the shape of a circle. That could mean something positive. Good fortune, maybe.”

You leaned in closer, nodding slowly. “Okay, I can kind of see that. And what about... this one? It looks like a little snake.”

Cressida’s eyes lit up. “A snake usually means some kind of betrayal. But it could also mean transformation—like shedding old skin. It depends on how you want to interpret it.”

Ben shook his head, still grinning. “So, you’ve got good fortune and betrayal in your future. How exciting.”

You felt your stomach turn. “Great. My future is a complete mess.”

Cressida nudged you playfully. “It’s all in how you frame it. You can make anything sound meaningful if you try hard enough.”

After a few more rounds of guessing at symbols and laughing at the absurdity of it all, you felt a little less overwhelmed by the idea of Divination. It still wasn’t your favorite subject, but with Ben and Cressida’s help, you were starting to see how you could at least survive the class without making a complete fool of yourself.

Ben closed his book with a snap, stretching his arms above his head. “Alright, I think that’s enough ‘seeing the future’ for one evening. My brain hurts.”

Cressida giggled, shaking her head at him. “You’re hopeless, Ben.”

He winked at her, then looked over at you with a more genuine smile. “But seriously, Y/n—you’ll be fine. Just remember, no one really knows what’s going to happen. So, if you sound like you do, you’re already ahead of the game.”

You smiled back, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. “Thanks, both of you. I don’t think I’d survive Onai’s class without your help.”

Cressida beamed, and Ben just shrugged nonchalantly, though you could tell he was pleased.

“No problem,” he said, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Just don’t forget us when you become the next great Seer.”

You laughed as you gathered your books, feeling lighter than you had all week.

After almost half an hour of extra studying for divination, you finally closed the last book with a satisfied thud. Ben and Cressida had transitioned seamlessly into their DADA revision, spreading out an assortment of books and parchment on the table.

"How are you still going?" you asked, stifling a yawn as you stretched. "I’m pretty sure my brain stopped working an hour ago.”

Cressida sighed, “We’ve still got a bit to cover for tomorrow’s class, but you’ve earned a break.”

Ben raised an eyebrow at you as he doodled lazily in the margins of his Charms textbook. "Or, you know, you could stay and suffer with us. Strength in numbers.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you gathered the Divination books scattered across the table. "I’ll pass, sorry buddy. I’m going to put these back before Madam Pince hunts me down for leaving them out. And maybe find something for Astronomy tomorrow”

Ben, leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed, smirked at you. “Don’t get lost in the stars tomorrow, Y/n. Though, if you do, I’ll make sure Professor Onai knows you had a cosmic fate awaiting you.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Thanks, Ben. I’ll keep that in mind.”

With the books balanced in your arms, you turned and made your way across the library, your steps echoing softly against the stone floor. The shelves were standing tall, casting long shadows in the dim light. You made your way through the aisles, heading toward the section that housed Divination text books.

Sliding the last book back into its place, you turned, intending to find the Astronomy section. After passing almost ten rows of books in alphabetical order, you wanted to curse Hogwarts for putting ‘A’ in the back of the library.

The section of astronomy was dimly lit, tucked in a corner where fewer students ventured at this hour. You found yourself browsing slowly, eyes gliding over the ancient-looking volumes when a voice broke the silence, startling you. You reached out to pull an Astronomy book from the shelf in front of you, but before you could fully distract yourself in the book, a voice cut through the quiet, low and cold.

“It’s rude to stare.”

You jumped at the sound of someone behind you. The book you were trying to take was nearly knocked off the shelf. Tom was standing right beside you, how you couldn’t notice or even feel his presence was weird. His dark eyes locked onto yours with an unsettling intensity.

Had you been staring? You weren’t quite sure when, but you were sure of the shiver that ran down your spine when he appeared out of thin air next to you.

“Excuse me?” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, though the proximity and suddenness of his appearance had thrown you off balance. “I wasn’t staring,” you replied, sounding as casual as you could, trying to keep your hand steady as you slid the book you had taken back into place.

“You and your friends watch me like I’m some kind of puzzle you’re trying to solve.” He stepped closer, the edge of his robe brushing against your arm as his voice lowered to a murmur.

Tom tilted his head, his gaze unwavering. “Lucas. He glares at me constantly. It’s not subtle, you know.”

Tom’s gaze softened just a fraction, though the smile that curved his lips was still unsettlingly cold. “It’s flattering, in a way, that you think you can figure me out. But don't waste your energy. There are better ways to spend your time.”

You blinked, feeling a cold weight settle in your stomach. How had he noticed? You’d tried to be discreet, observing him from time to time, but you hadn’t realized he was so acutely aware of both your and Lucas’s attention.

The silence between you stretched thin, tension humming in the air. You could feel the weight of his attention, and despite every instinct telling you to look away, you couldn’t. It was as though his presence drew you in, locking you in place.

“What is it about me that interests you so much?” Tom asked, his voice quiet but sharp, cutting through the space between you.

Your mouth went dry, this was the first time you’d hear his voice outside of class. Lucas was right about one thing - this guy was a big teacher’s pet. . “I don’t—” You shook your head, trying to find your footing in the conversation. “I’m not… interested.”

That almost-smile returned, but there was no warmth in it. “You think I don’t notice when people watch me? I see and hear everything.” He took a step closer to you, and though it was subtle, it made the space between you feel suffocating. “I find it curious.”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to stand your ground. “I’m not watching you, Riddle.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “No? Then what is it, exactly? You are… different, ever since you arrived. People are curious about you, its almost made me curious about you.”

“I’m just trying to focus on my studies,” you said, your voice sounding much steadier than you felt. “There’s nothing…” you trailed off, wishing this conversation could just end now.

Tom’s expression remained unreadable, his lips curling ever so slightly into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Do I make you nervous, L/n?” His voice was so smooth and calculated.

You almost stopped breathing. He knew your name. Of course he did—he was observant, always watching, always listening. Or maybe it was because you were ‘new’. But it still caught you off guard, hearing him say it aloud, as if he was testing how it sounded. It almost made you want to melt.

You cleared your throat, trying to steady yourself. “No,” you lied, hoping the word didn’t sound as shaky as it felt. “I just didn’t expect anyone to be here.”

Tom’s gaze didn’t waver, his eyes studying you as if he were searching for something beyond the surface. “And yet, here we are.”

“It’s only a matter of time before I find out what makes you so different.”

Before you could muster any sort of reply, Tom straightened his posture even more, his eyes glancing briefly down the aisle before locking with yours again.

“Oh, and you’re coming with me to the Slug Club party as my date.”

Your mind blanked. “What?”

But Tom had already turned away, walking briskly toward the exit of the library without another word, leaving you standing there in stunned silence.

He didn’t even wait for your response, didn’t even give you the chance to argue. It was as if he had decided for both of you, and that was that.

You stood there, still clutching the Astronomy book in your hands, your heart racing and your mouth parted slightly. Tom’s parting words echoed in your head, sending a ripple of confusion and unease through you.

As his tall figure disappeared from view, you blinked, finally finding your voice—too late, of course. “Wait, what?”

But the only response was the soft rustle of parchment and the quiet crackling of candle flames in the distant corners of the library.

You turned away from the rows of books and walked back toward the table where Ben and Cressida were still engrossed in their DADA study materials. The earlier encounter with Tom had left you in a whirl of thoughts and emotions, but you pushed it aside for now, focusing on your friends.

“I’m going to head back to the common room. It’s almost curfew, and the library closes an hour before.”

Ben glanced at his watch, then at Cressida. “You’re right. We should probably get going too; we can finish up the last bit of our notes in the morning.”

“Good call,” Cressida agreed, gathering her things as you slid into your seat to help them pack up.

As you collected your scattered parchment and books, you couldn’t shake the conversation with Tom from your mind. The casual way he’d announced that you were going to the Slug Club party, as if you didn’t have a choice, left you feeling unsettled. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to respond.

You were kind of glad, it seemed as if you didn’t have to do anything to get close to Riddle. Maybe this task could work that Dumbledore gave you.

Once finished, you waved goodbye to your two new friends and left the library, stepping into the cool hallway of Hogwarts. The castle felt eerily quiet at this hour, the only sound being the soft echo of your footsteps against the stone floor and some students who were lingering around. You navigated the winding corridors, the familiar path to Gryffindor Tower comforting in its predictability.

After saying the password to the Fat Lady, you stepped into the Gryffindor common room a familiar warmth washed over you. The cozy fire crackled in the hearth, casting a soft orange glow that made the red and gold accents of the room even more inviting. It was a huge comfort after the strange encounter. Your mind still whirled with confusion—his words, his tone—but you pushed it to the back of your mind, not wanting to dwell on it now.

You spotted Lucas sitting with a few other boys. While Maeve, Lilith and Alicia were sitting on one of the large, cushioned sofas near the fire, talking and laughing with a small group of other Gryffindors. Maeve, with her infectious energy, was gesturing animatedly, while Alicia leaned in, clearly amused by whatever story was being told. It was a scene of easy camaraderie, one that made you feel a bit lighter just watching.

“Y/n! Come join us!” she called, scooting over on the sofa to make room.

You hesitated for a moment, thinking about heading upstairs to the dormitory to mull over the day, but then decided against it. Maybe what you needed wasn’t to be alone with your thoughts—maybe what you needed was a distraction. Something normal, something that reminded you that despite the strange and unsettling things happening, you were still just a student at Hogwarts.

So, you made your way over to where Lilith, Maeve and Alicia sat.

You smiled and slid into the open spot next to Alicia, feeling the warmth of the fire on your face. “What are you guys talking about?”

Maeve smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Alicia's just been telling everyone how she ‘accidentally’ lit her cauldron on fire in Potions today.”

Alicia gave an exaggerated huff, crossing her arms. “It was not my fault. The instructions were so vague! How was I supposed to know the boomslang skin needed to be chopped and not sliced? Slughorn didn't even seem surprised.”

Everyone laughed, including you. Being around Maeve and Alicia always had a way of making things feel lighter, less complicated.

“At least you didn’t blow up the entire classroom,” you teased, nudging her shoulder. “Could’ve been worse.”

“Oh, don’t tempt fate,” Maeve said with a grin. “She’s bound to do that next.”

“Honestly, Slughorn should give you extra credit for keeping him on his toes,” one of the other Gryffindors, a boy named Colin, chimed in. “He looked half-asleep before you spiced things up.”

Alicia laughed. “Maybe I’ll make a habit of it. Keep everyone entertained during Potions class.”

Lilith shook her head with a fond smile. “You’ll give the poor man a heart attack.”

The conversation flowed easily after that, and you found yourself relaxing into the warmth of the common room, letting the laughter and chatter distract you from the strange events of the past few days. It felt nice, this small escape from the growing complexity of your life at Hogwarts—just sitting with your friends, enjoying the simple pleasures of shared stories and jokes.

“Anyone up for a round of Exploding Snap?” Colin asked, pulling out a deck of cards with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Maeve clapped her hands together. “Absolutely. I’m in.”

Alicia raised an eyebrow at you, a knowing smile on her face. “What about you, Y/n? Feel like playing, or are you going to sneak off to the library again?”

You grinned, shaking your head. “I think I’ve had enough of the library for one day. Count me in.”

The cards were dealt, and soon enough, the table was filled with laughter and shouts as the game began.

The Great Hall buzzed with its usual morning energy as students filed in for breakfast, the long house tables laden with all sorts of delicious food. You slid into a spot between Maeve and Alicia, nodding a quick greeting to Lucas, who was already halfway through a slice of toast. Across from you, Ben was deep in conversation with Cressida, though from the smirk on his face, it looked like their discussion was more playful than serious.

“Morning!” Maeve chirped, her curly dark hair bouncing as she waved excitedly. "You look like you slept through the night for once!”

You laughed, shrugging as you reached for some pumpkin juice. "Guess I needed it after all that Divination nonsense last night. Thanks again for the help.”

“You needed help with Divination?” Lucas asked, his eyebrow raised in mock surprise. “I thought you were born with the gift. You know, seeing into the future and all that.”

“Please,” Alicia cut in with a grin, tossing her long red hair over her shoulder. “The only thing she’s predicting is when we’ll all fail our exams. It’s not exactly professor Onai level.”

“You’d think predicting disaster would score me more points in her class," you said dryly, earning a laugh from Maeve.

Ben leaned over the table, grabbing another egg roll. “Speaking of disasters, did you hear what happened in Potions yesterday?” He shot Alicia a knowing look, and she groaned dramatically.

“Oh, Merlin, don’t even bring it up. It was a tiny fire! You set one classroom on fire, and no one ever lets you forget it.”

“I mean, it's impressive you didn’t blow up the entire dungeon,” Cressida added with a teasing smile.

"Alicia, if you set something else on fire, you'll be on first-name basis with Filch," Lucas chimed in, his tone dry but playful.

Maeve shot him a mock glare. “You’re one to talk! You’re probably on Filch’s speed dial from all your pranks.”

“Correction,” Lucas said, holding up a finger. “Filch doesn’t know I’m behind them. I’m smarter than that.”

Lucas leaned back with a self-satisfied grin, as if he’d been waiting to drop some news. “Anyway, you’ll never guess what happened last night.”

Lilith raised an eyebrow. “Did you set something on fire?”

“No, better.” Lucas’s grin widened. “Someone asked me to the Slug Club party.”

There was a pause around the table before Maeve nearly choked on her juice. “Wait—what? Someone asked you?”

“Wait, are you serious?” Alicia looked equally surprised, her freckled face scrunching up with curiosity. “Since when are you the kind of person to go to fancy parties with dates?”

Lucas shrugged nonchalantly, though his eyes gleamed with amusement. “It’s just a party. They asked, and I thought, why not?”

“You, at the Slug Club, huh?" Ben looked impressed, though his tone was teasing. "Trying to get in with the elite crowd now?”

“More like trying to eat their fancy food,” Lucas shot back, biting into his toast with a smirk. “And who says I can’t enjoy a party? Besides, this person… well, let's just say they’re persistent.”

“Pass the eggs, would you, Y/N?” Maeve asked from beside you, her dark curls bouncing as she leaned over, ever enthusiastic.

You handed her the plate, grinning as she piled her food.

Before you could get drawn further into the banter, you cleared your throat, feeling a sudden knot tighten in your stomach. “About the Slug party…”you began, a little hesitantly.

Everyone turned to you, curious, and you immediately regretted how awkward you felt about saying it aloud. You knew how this group loved to react to every little piece of drama.

Ben, narrowed his eyes at you with a grin. “What, don’t tell me you got asked too?”

Alicia leaned in, her curiosity piqued. “Come on, Y/n, spill. Who asked you?”

Taking a deep breath, you set your juice down and tried to keep your voice casual. “So, last night... I was in the library, putting some books away, and... Riddle shows up.”

You could almost feel the temperature drop slightly at the mention of his name. Tom had that effect—he was either admired, feared, or completely misunderstood. And most people didn’t dare cross into his orbit.

“Riddle?” Lucas’ brow furrowed. “What did he want?”

Your lips twitched in irritation. "Well, he said... I’m going with him to the Slug Club party.”

There was a beat of silence, then:

“He what?” Lucas nearly shrieked, his eyes wide.

“He just—said it. Didn’t ask, didn’t wait for a reply. Just told me I’m going with him and walked off before I could even respond.”

Ben snorted, shaking his head. “Classic Riddle. Bloody arrogant, isn’t he?”

“You're telling me!” you said, leaning back in frustration. “I didn’t even agree, and now it’s like everyone’s going to think I’m—”

Cressida leaned in with a sly grin. “That you’re dating him?”

You shot her a look. “Please, no one’s going to think that. It’s just—he’s using me as a social prop or something. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“But why you?” Lucas asked quietly. “Riddle doesn’t just pick people randomly. Maybe he sees something in you.”

“That’s what makes it so weird!” you exclaimed. “I’ve barely spoken to him, and now I’m his date?”

Lucas crossed his arms. “Maybe you should start glaring at him more often, like I do.”

“Yeah, well, according to him, he’s already noticed your glare,” you said dryly, rolling your eyes. “Apparently, he’s very aware of all of us.”

Lucas huffed, clearly unimpressed. “Of course, he is. That guy’s always watching people like they’re chess pieces.”

Alicia giggled. "Well, I guess that means we’re all on his board now. Good luck with that.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I can’t believe this is happening. I don’t even want to go to that stupid party.”

Maeve nudged you gently. “Hey, it might not be so bad. If anything, Lucas’ll be there for moral support, right?”

Ben nodded with a small, encouraging smile. “He’ll keep an eye out for you. If he gets too... Riddle-like, just wave ‘em over.”

“Besides,” Lucas added, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “I’ll be there with my mystery date. You and I can compare horrible dates.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. “You’re impossible, Lucas.”

He winked. “I know.”

Despite the ridiculousness of it all, you felt a little better knowing your friends had your back, even if it meant navigating the Slug Club party with Tom Riddle as your so-called date. You were quite glad that Lucas would be there, otherwise… you didn’t know how you’d survive.

The dim light of the Potions classroom cast an almost mystical glow over the rows of cauldrons, each bubbling and steaming with the concoctions your classmates were diligently working on. You sat at a long table alongside Lucas, Lilith, and Alicia, the air filled with the aromatic scents of various herbs and potions brewing.

“Alright, does anyone actually know what we’re supposed to be doing?” Lucas asked, peering into his cauldron with a skeptical expression. “Because I’m pretty sure my potion looks more like swamp water than anything resembling a Polyjuice Potion.”

You leaned over to inspect his mixture, fighting back a grin. “I think it needs more lacewing flies. And probably less of whatever that is,” you replied, pointing at a suspicious-looking ingredient he’d added.

Alicia chuckled. Let’s see what kind of disaster we can create this time!”

Lilith, who was meticulously measuring her ingredients, glanced up with a shy smile. “Just be careful, okay? We don’t want to blow anything up this time.”

“Not this time,” Lucas said with mock solemnity, as if making a vow. “But I can’t promise anything after all that bad luck we had in Herbology.”

Just as the laughter began to bubble up again, Professor Slughorn approached your table, his round face beaming with warmth and enthusiasm. His robes swished around him as he moved, and he carried an air of joviality that made his presence both comforting and slightly intimidating.

“Well, well! Look who we have here!” Slughorn exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. “Our very own Gryffindor duo—Lucas and Y/n! I’m positively delighted to have you both joining us for the Slug Club party Saturday! It’s sure to be an affair to remember!”

You exchanged a glance with Lucas, both of you caught off guard by the sudden attention from Slughorn. Your stomach twisted a little at the mention of the party, a mix of excitement and nerves washing over you. Lucas, on the other hand, wore a broad grin that seemed to grow even wider.

“Thanks, Professor!” Lucas replied, leaning back in his chair with a casual air. “I can’t wait. I’ve heard your parties are legendary.”

“Ah, you’ve heard correctly!” Slughorn said, his cheeks flushing with pride. “I do try to make them memorable. The company, the food, the lively discussions! You’re both in for a treat. I’ve planned some delightful surprises this time.”

“What kind of surprises?” Alicia asked, her curiosity piqued. She leaned forward, her long red hair spilling over her shoulders as she regarded the professor with wide eyes.

“Oh, I can’t reveal all my secrets, dear girl! That would spoil the fun,” Slughorn replied, waving a hand dismissively, though a mischievous smile played on his lips. “But I assure you, you won’t be disappointed. Just be sure to dress nicely! A party is only as good as its attendees, after all.”

You exchanged glances with Lucas, feeling the weight of Slughorn’s expectations. “Thanks for the heads up, Professor,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach. “We’ll make sure to dress appropriately.”

Slughorn beamed at you, his eyes twinkling. “Wonderful! I’ll be counting on you both to liven up the evening! Now, I mustn’t keep you from your work. Let’s make sure that cauldron doesn’t boil over, shall we? Merlin knows I have enough cleaning with you, Alicia!”

As he moved on to check on another group, the four of you exchanged looks filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

“What did I get myself into?” you whispered to Lucas, who was now rolling up his sleeves as if preparing for battle.

“Just a party, Y/n! What’s the worst that could happen?” Lucas replied, grinning. “I’m sure it’ll be all fun and games… unless Tom Riddle pulls out his mysterious charms again.”

“Oh, don’t remind me!” you said with a dramatic sigh. “At this point, I’m half-expecting him to show up with a crown or something.”

Lilith giggled softly, her curls bouncing as she nodded in agreement. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Same,” Alicia added, her voice laced with laughter. “But for real, Y/n. Just have fun.”

“Absolutely,” Lucas said, offering you a reassuring grin. “Let’s just survive Potions first, and then we can strategize our party game plan. Besides, I’ll be there to distract you from any of Riddle’s creepy vibes.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the camaraderie, feeling the comforting presence of your friends around you. As you returned your focus to the cauldron, the bubbling liquid within seemed a little less daunting, and the upcoming party, while still nerve-wracking, felt a touch more exciting with your friends by your side.

“Though, I can’t believe Slughorn is actually excited to see us at the party,” Lucas said, breaking into your thoughts. “I mean, I thought we’d be just another couple of faces in the crowd.”

“I know, right?” you replied, rolling your eyes slightly. “As if I’m not already stressed enough about it. What am I supposed to wear? I don’t even know how to match with Riddle.”

Lucas grinned mischievously, leaning closer to you. “I mean, have you considered going in full-on Gryffindor colors? You could practically blind him with your ensemble. Red and gold would definitely make a statement.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “As tempting as that sounds, I don’t think that’s the look I’m going for. I’d like to keep some semblance of style, thank you very much.”

Just then, Lilith, who had been quietly mixing her potion a few seats down, piped up. “Or you could match with Lucas!” she said, her eyes brightening at the idea. “You could be besties who coordinate outfits!”

Lucas’s eyes widened, and he looked at Lilith with mock horror. “Wait, you want me to match with Y/n? How would that even work?”

“Oh, come on!” you exclaimed, feeling a rush of excitement. “That would be hilarious. We could totally rock the matching bestie look! We’d be the life of the party.”

Lilith nodded vigorously. “Exactly! Just imagine it. You two in coordinating outfits, showing everyone how it’s done. You could wear something that complements each other. Think about it—everyone will love it!”

“Okay, I’m in,” Lucas said, a playful grin spreading across his face. “But only if I get to pick the colors. I’m not wearing anything ridiculous like polka dots.”

You laughed again, feeling your anxiety start to melt away. “Deal! As long as it’s something we can both pull off. I just want to make sure we don’t look like clowns or something.”

“Clowns would be a bold choice,” Lucas said, leaning back in his chair. “But we can leave that for the next party.”

“Perfect! So, what are you thinking for colors?” you asked, already feeling a surge of inspiration.

“Definitely something dark and sophisticated to contrast with your outfit. I think deep purple or navy would be awesome. They’d go well with both our styles,” Lucas suggested, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“Those would look great together! I can see it now—me in a deep purple dress, and you in a navy suit,” you said, your excitement growing. “We’ll be the most stylish duo there!”

“Absolutely! And if anyone gives us grief, we’ll just tell them it’s a statement about friendship,” Lucas added, grinning as he glanced around the room.

Lilith giggled, pleased with the plan. “I can’t wait to see this! You two will be the talk of the party.”

As Professor Slughorn wandered closer, your table quickly redirected your attention to your potion, but the thrill of the idea lingered in your mind. Matching outfits with Lucas felt like just the right balance of fun and confidence you needed to tackle the upcoming Slug Club party.

The Gryffindor common room was bustling with high and loud energy as you and your friends gathered around a large table piled high with books, parchment, and assorted snacks. The fireplace crackled warmly in the background, casting a cozy glow over the space. Lilith sat cross-legged on the floor, engrossed in a thick tome about potion brewing, while Maeve and Alicia were locked in a spirited debate about the merits of various Quidditch teams.

You settled into a comfortable armchair, stretching your legs out in front of you and letting out a contented sigh. It felt nice to be surrounded by friends, especially after the whirlwind of emotions you’d experienced over the past few days.

As you reached for a chocolate frog, you caught sight of a familiar furry figure lounging on the armrest of your chair. Your heart swelled with joy as you recognized your cat, who had been mysteriously absent for days.

“Hey there, little buddy!” you exclaimed, scooping the cat into your arms. “I haven’t seen you for days! I was starting to worry!”

The cat purred contentedly, nuzzling against your chin as if to say, ‘I’ve been off having adventures, thank you very much.’ You couldn’t help but laugh, scratching behind its ears. “I hope you weren’t off plotting world domination or anything.”

“Maybe he was hanging out with Tom Riddle!” Alicia chimed in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’ve heard he’s a bit of a cat person.”

You shot her a mock glare, but a smile tugged at your lips. “You know what? I wouldn’t put it past him. He probably thinks he can communicate with Shadow or something.”

“Maybe they’re secretly bonding over dark magic,” Maeve added, feigning a serious expression. “What if they form a feline army?”

“Now that would be terrifying,” Lucas said, emerging from the corner of the room with a plate of biscuits. “A cat army led by Tom Riddle? I can see it now—total chaos.”

You shook your head, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Well, if my cat is leading the charge, I’m definitely switching sides. I can’t let her rule the world without me!”

Lilith looked up from her book, a smile breaking through her usually reserved demeanor. “At least you’ll have a loyal companion by your side.”

You cradled your cat closer, who seemed to enjoy the attention. “You know, he might be the secret to my success. With Shadow by my side, I feel like I can take on anything—even Riddle.”

The group erupted in laughter, and the mood in the room brightened. You placed your cat back on the armrest, where he settled comfortably, watching everyone with bright, inquisitive eyes.

The weekend had finally arrived, and excitement buzzed in the air as you and Lucas made your way to Hogsmeade for a day of shopping. The streets were alive with chatter, laughter, and the sound of the occasional owl swooping overhead. The weather was crisp, the sky a brilliant blue, perfect for a day out with friends.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Lucas said, his voice laced with anticipation as he adjusted the collar of his shirt. He looked sharp today, dressed casually but stylishly in light jeans and a fitted sweater. “This is going to be epic.”

“Right?” you replied, your heart racing with a mix of nerves and excitement. “I feel like we’re on a mission to become the best-dressed duo in Hogwarts history.”

Lucas chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “And to think, it all started with a date to the Slug Club. I’m still half-convinced you just wanted to drag me along to ensure you looked fabulous.”

“Can you blame me? You’re basically a fashion icon,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

As you approached Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, a quaint shop with window displays filled with elegant robes and dresses, you felt a thrill of anticipation. Stepping inside, you were greeted by the familiar scent of fabric and the gentle rustle of garments being tried on. A soft bell chimed as the door closed behind you.

“Alright, let’s find you a stunning dress!” Lucas said, eyes gleaming as he headed toward the racks of colorful robes and dresses.

You wandered over to the section with formal wear, your heart racing as you scanned the options. After a few minutes of searching, your gaze landed on a beautiful dark purple dress that flowed elegantly to your ankles. The silk shimmered under the shop’s lights, and you could already picture how it would look on you—sleek and sophisticated.

“Lucas, come check this out!�� you called, holding up the dress.

His eyes widened, and a grin spread across his face. “That’s perfect! It’s so elegant and would look stunning on you. Try it on!”

With a quick nod, you grabbed the dress and made your way to the fitting room. Slipping it on, you admired yourself in the mirror. The fabric felt soft against your skin, and the color complemented your features beautifully. You turned to see how it looked from different angles, feeling a rush of confidence.

“Okay, now for the real test,” you said to yourself, stepping out of the fitting room. Lucas’s jaw dropped as he laid eyes on you, his expression a mixture of awe and approval.

“Wow, Y/N. You look absolutely breathtaking!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands in delight. “That dress was made for you!”

“Really? You think so?” you asked, a shy smile spreading across your face.

“Absolutely. And it’ll look even better when we coordinate with my navy suit,” Lucas said, his voice teasing but sincere. “You’re going to be the star of the show, and I’m just here to support your brilliance.”

“Okay, okay, you’re making me blush,” you replied, playfully rolling your eyes. “But you still need to find your suit, Mr. Best Dressed.”

“Right! Let’s find the perfect navy suit to match my stunning date,” he said, striding over to the section for men’s formal wear. After a few minutes of browsing, he pulled out a dark navy suit that looked incredibly sharp. “What do you think?”

“Looks like a winner to me!” you said, clapping your hands together. “Let’s get you to try it on.”

As Lucas stepped into the fitting room, you waited anxiously outside, your heart pounding with excitement. When he finally emerged, you gasped. The suit fit him perfectly, accentuating his tall frame and dark curls. He looked incredibly handsome.

“Well? What do you think?” Lucas asked, striking a pose with a grin.

“You look fantastic! Seriously, you’re going to turn heads in that suit,” you said, unable to hide your admiration. “We’ll be the best-looking pair at the Slug Club.”

“Agreed,” he said, beaming. “Now let’s finalize our choices. You have to get that dress, and I definitely need this suit.”

After a few moments of browsing through accessories, you settled on a simple silver necklace that would add a touch of elegance without overpowering the dress. Lucas found a matching tie that complemented both his suit and your dress beautifully.

“Alright, we did it!” you said as you paid for your outfits. “I can’t believe we actually pulled this off.”

“Of course we did! We’re a dynamic duo,” Lucas replied, a grin spreading across his face. “Now all we have to do is perfect our dance moves for the party.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll be the center of attention with our dazzling outfits and questionable dancing,” you laughed, nudging him playfully.

“Let’s just hope we don’t end up stepping on each other’s toes,” Lucas quipped as you both stepped back into the bustling streets of Hogsmeade, ready to show the world just how stylish you could be together.

As you walked side by side, you felt a sense of excitement and confidence. With Lucas by your side, you knew the Slug Club party would be an unforgettable night, no matter what happened.

“So, Luca, you still haven't told me who your date is.” You asked him, nudging him slightly with your elbow.

He chuckled nervously. “Ah, well, about that…”

“Come on,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

He took a deep breath, his gaze fixed ahead. “It's... not a girl.”

A/N: to be added to taglist - press taglist lol & i have a feeling i basically wrote nothing? does that make sense, anyway THANK YOU for all the support

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊taglist:

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#lizzieswrites𝜗𝜚 #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle #tom riddle angst #tom riddle x reader #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle imagine #harry potter x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #slytherin boys #harry potter #⚕soulmates don't exist⚕

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reidmarieprentiss · 3 months ago

Text

Wasteland, Baby!

Summary: We learn a little about reader's past, Spencer tries (and succeeds) to get back in her good graces. Happy ending!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, fluff

Warnings/Includes: bad past relationships, past cheating, pregnancy (not reader), getting broken up with, divorced parents, past hooking up with strangers, alcohol consumption, mentions of being drunk, mild depression, time jumps, penelope garcia being the best person alive, derek morgan saving the day

Word count: 10.3k

a/n: final installment of Too Sweet!! i know they're a mess but i love these twooo might give them some blurbs in the future <33 thank you so much to everyone reading! your comments and interactions seriously motivate me to write sooo much faster and make my heart burst!!

main masterlist

part one part two

Flashback…

You sat there, the rim of your glass resting against your lips as you drained the last of your drink. The burn of the alcohol was distant, almost nonexistent—just like everything else these days. The numbness had long since taken over, seeping into every part of your life, leaving you cold and detached. You chased sensations, tried to force yourself to feel something, anything, but nothing worked. Not the new piercings that adorned your skin, not the tattoo etched into your flesh, not even the alcohol that should have brought warmth, or the rage rooms where you shattered objects in a futile attempt to break through the void.

Work had once been your refuge, a security blanket that made you feel capable and strong. Military intelligence had given you purpose, a clear path forward. But now even that had become a nightmare, as Jackson had managed to ruin yet another thing you loved. The betrayal cut deep, but even that pain had dulled, leaving only a hollow ache in its place.

“Y/N… you should go home,” the bartender, Drew, said with a shake of their head. They had seen you here night after night, watching as you spiraled deeper into whatever darkness had taken hold of you.

“I don’t have a home anymore,” you slurred, the words bitter on your tongue. The thought of the apartment you had shared with Jackson twisted like a knife in your gut. He was there right now, with his fiance—your replacement. All your things were still there while you slept in a cheap motel that barely felt real. He got the apartment, the girl, the job, and all you got was a long bar tab.

Drew’s expression softened with pity, but before they could say anything, a deep, smooth voice cut through the haze.

“Hey, beautiful, you can come home with me,” the stranger called out, his tone dripping with confidence. His voice was like honey, dark and rich, promising the kind of escape you craved.

You looked up, eyes narrowing as you focused on him—tall, broad shoulders, a chiseled jawline, and eyes that gleamed with something dangerous, something alluring. He was exactly what you needed: a distraction, a thrill, something to make you forget for just a little while.

And thus began the one thing that finally brought feeling back into your world.

You pushed the glass aside and slid off the barstool, unsteady but determined. The stranger’s smirk grew as you approached him, his hand reaching out to guide you out of the bar. The warmth of his touch was electric, a spark in the darkness that reminded you that you were still alive, still capable of feeling—if only for tonight.

You didn’t know his name, and you didn’t care. All that mattered was the fire he ignited within you, the way his presence chased away the numbness that had plagued you for so long. It was reckless, it was dangerous, but it was exactly what you needed. The emptiness was too much to bear, and if he could fill it, even for just a moment, you were willing to take that chance.

As you left the bar, wrapped in the stranger’s arm, the world blurred around you. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t consumed by the void. The thrill, the anticipation—it was enough to make you feel alive again, even if it was fleeting.

—

Present

The team was gathered around the round table, JJ had just finished briefing everyone, her voice steady as she laid out the grim details. As the discussion continued, Emily’s brow furrowed as she reviewed the case file in front of her, something sparking a memory.

“This reminds me of the Atlanta case… Hotch, do you know what department Y/N is in? I want to ask her a question about that case file,” Emily said, her eyes still scanning the paperwork.

Hotch’s expression remained neutral as he answered. “She’s not here right now. You can get the file from the archives if you need.”

Penelope immediately picked up on the shift in tone. Her concern was evident as she asked, “Where is she?”

Hotch didn’t hesitate, his response professional and matter-of-fact. “I wasn’t made aware of the specifics. She’s on a leave of absence.”

Emily looked up, her curiosity piqued. “Do you know how long she’ll be gone?”

Hotch’s gaze was steady as he replied, “I do not. Why don’t you call her if you’re concerned? But let’s stay focused. This isn’t pertinent to the case at hand.”

The room fell into a brief, awkward silence, the unspoken questions lingering in the air. The team exchanged glances, sensing that there was more to the story, but knowing better than to press further. Hotch’s tone made it clear that they needed to get back to the task at hand, and so they did, though the concern for your absence lingered in the back of their minds.

—

“Spencer,” Penelope’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the break room, startling him.

“Ah! You scared me, Garcia,” Spencer exclaimed, nearly dropping his mug.

She didn’t smile or laugh at his reaction, her expression unusually serious as she approached him. “How did it feel?” she asked pointedly, her voice carrying a sharp edge.

Spencer blinked, confused. “What?”

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” she taunted, using the same words he had cruelly thrown at you.

Realization dawned on Spencer, and a wave of anxiety washed over him. “Penelope, what are you talking about?” he stammered, already dreading where this conversation was headed.

Penelope’s eyes narrowed, her tone full of disappointment. “I heard you, Spencer. I held Y/N as she cried. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but that was a nasty scene. And I am seriously disappointed in you.”

Spencer winced, guilt twisting his insides. “I know… I messed up.”

“No kidding,” Penelope shot back, crossing her arms. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The truth was, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. He had been so caught up in his own anger and hurt that he hadn’t considered the consequences of his actions.

“Well, you’d better figure it out,” Penelope said firmly. “Because this isn’t like you, Spencer. You’re better than this, and she deserves better than what you did.”

Spencer nodded, feeling the weight of her words. He knew she was right, and the guilt gnawed at him, but he was at a loss for how to make things right. As Penelope turned to leave, he was left standing there, staring into his now-cold cup of coffee, wondering how he could possibly begin to fix the mess he had made.

—

Flashback…

“Hey, hey, are you alright?” an unfamiliar voice asked, cutting through the quiet of your tearful moment.

You sniffled, wiping your nose before looking up to see a stranger standing in front of you. “Yeah, thanks,” you mumbled, trying to pull yourself together.

“I’m Jackson,” the man introduced himself with a soft smile, gesturing toward the bench you were sitting on. “Can I sit?”

You hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged, scooting over slightly. “I guess.”

Jackson took a seat beside you, giving you space but not too much. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked gently.

You eyed him suspiciously, your guard still up. “Is this a thing for you? Talking to crying girls on benches?”

He looked genuinely taken aback, holding up his hands defensively. “What? No, of course not. You just… you’re so pretty, too pretty to cry.”

You shot him a skeptical look, raising an eyebrow. He laughed, the sound warm and easy. “That was really bad, huh?”

“Yeah, it was really bad.” You deadpanned, expression unchanging.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it worse.” Jackson cringed, his face morphing into one of mild embarrassment and regret.

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but giggle a little. “No, no. It’s… it’s fine.” You heaved a big sigh, the weight of your emotions still heavy on your chest. “My, um, my partner… they just dumped me.”

Jackson’s expression softened with sympathy. “Oh, I’m so sorry. How long were you together?”

“Three years,” you replied, your voice shaky. “We started dating right out of high school.”

“Wow,” he said, clearly surprised. “And they just… ended it?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, the pain of the breakup still fresh.

Jackson hesitated for a moment before offering, “Do you need a hug?”

You narrowed your eyes playfully, trying to lighten the mood despite your sadness. “Depends… are you going to kill me?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Promise I won’t hurt you.”

You gave a small nod, and before you knew it, Jackson wrapped his arms around you in a comforting embrace. It was unexpected, but in that moment, it was exactly what you needed.

—

Present

“Hey, Hotch,” Spencer called out, picking up his pace to catch up to his unit chief as they walked through the hallway.

Hotch turned his head slightly, acknowledging Spencer as he fell in step beside him. “What’s up?”

“Do you happen to know when Agent Y/L/N will be back?” Spencer asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

Hotch glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “No, I don’t.”

“Alright, thanks,” Spencer replied, nodding as he looked down, feeling a bit deflated.

But Hotch wasn’t one to let things go so easily. “Why are you asking?” he inquired, his tone measured.

Spencer hesitated, searching for a reasonable explanation. “Just… have a question for her.”

Hotch gave him a considering look. “Get her number from Penelope. I’m sure she can answer any question you have that way.”

“Yeah…” Spencer trailed off, clearly not thrilled with the suggestion. He knew he could easily get your contact information, but after everything that had happened, the idea of reaching out to you directly felt daunting. Still, he gave Hotch a small nod of acknowledgment before the unit chief walked away, leaving Spencer to wrestle with the uncertainty gnawing at him.

—

Spencer knocked lightly on Penelope’s door frame, his nerves evident in the way he hesitated before speaking. “Garcia, can I come in?”

“I’m mad at you,” Penelope replied, not looking up from her computer, her tone sharp. “Enter at your own risk.”

Spencer nodded but stepped inside anyway, taking a cautious seat across from her desk. “Could you give me Y/N’s number?”

“Absolutely not,” Penelope said immediately, her voice firm. “You’ve done enough to that poor girl.”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably. “I thought you wanted me to fix things?”

“I do,” Penelope said, finally turning to face him. “But getting her number from someone else is tacky.”

“What should I do then?” Spencer asked, genuinely at a loss.

Penelope eyed him for a moment, considering. “I don’t know, Spencer. You could go to her apartment, make a grand gesture.”

“Okay… but why would I make a grand gesture? Can’t I just say sorry?”

Penelope sighed, her frustration clear. “Did you see the same woman I did? She was broken, Spencer. Whatever is going on between you two cannot be solved by a simple ‘sorry.’”

Spencer sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I tell you something in confidence, Garcia?”

Penelope narrowed her eyes but nodded. Despite her anger, she would never betray his trust. “I suppose.”

Spencer took a deep breath, the words coming out more slowly than he intended. “Y/N and I… well, we were intimate after the Doctor Who convention.”

“I knew it!” Penelope exclaimed, her eyes widening.

“What? How?” Spencer asked, startled.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, waving off his question. “Continue.”

“Alright… Well, it was an amazing night. The whole day, really. We got along so well. But then when I woke up, in her apartment, mind you, I was alone with just a note asking me to lock the door. And then she showed up here acting like she didn’t know who I was.”

Penelope’s expression softened slightly, her earlier anger giving way to understanding. “Spencer… that explains a lot.”

“I don’t know what I did wrong,” Spencer admitted, his voice quiet. “I don’t know why she left or why she’s been avoiding me. And then I just got so angry, and I took it out on her… I know I shouldn’t have, but I was hurt.”

Penelope leaned back in her chair, considering his words. “Spencer, it sounds like you both have a lot of unresolved feelings. But if you want to fix this, you need to do more than just apologize. You need to show her that you care, that you’re willing to put in the effort to make things right.”

Spencer nodded slowly, taking in her advice. “I just… I don’t know where to start.”

Penelope offered him a small, sympathetic smile. “Start by being honest with her. Tell her how you feel, what you’ve been going through. And if you really want to make it right, maybe that grand gesture isn’t such a bad idea after all.”

Spencer nodded again, this time with more determination. “Okay. I’ll figure something out.”

Penelope watched him leave, a hint of hope in her heart that maybe, just maybe, Spencer could make things right with you—if he was willing to put in the effort.

—

You were curled up on your couch, surrounded by a sea of crumpled tissues, the remnants of countless tearful nights. Your eyes were puffy and red, evidence of the endless crying sessions that had consumed your days since you took a leave of absence from work. In your hands, you held a photo album, the pages heavy with memories that now felt more like burdens than treasures.

The album had been a gift from Jackson’s mom for your fifth anniversary, a thoughtful compilation of your relationship’s most cherished moments. At the time, you had been so sure it was a precursor to something bigger, something life-changing. You had even found the ring hidden away in Jackson’s things, and your heart had soared with the hope that he was going to propose. But that hope had been cruelly dashed when you learned the truth—that ring wasn’t for you. It was for Jessica, the girl he’d been sleeping with on the side, the girl who had taken your place in his life.

The betrayal was like a knife in your chest, twisting deeper with every memory you revisited. Each photo, each smiling face, felt like a lie now. You had loved him, trusted him, and in return, he had shattered you. It wasn’t just the loss of Jackson that haunted you, though. There was Margo too, the one who had left you first, making you doubt your worth, your ability to be loved, leading you into the arms of Jackson. Literally. And then there was Spencer.

You had tried so hard to keep Spencer at arm’s length, to protect yourself from another heartbreak. But despite your best efforts, he had weaseled his way into your heart. You had let your guard down, just a little, and in return, he had crushed you, just like everyone else. At least Spencer had been quick about it, you thought bitterly. Over and done with in a single, devastating blow.

Your chief had been kind enough to grant you a leave of absence, requiring little explanation. You were a diligent worker, always going above and beyond, and in their words, you deserved a break. But this break had turned into something else—a time to mourn, to dissect everything that had gone wrong in your life. You replayed every failed relationship in your mind, trying to figure out where you had gone wrong, why you were always the one left behind.

But the answers didn’t come, only more tears and more heartache. The memories in the photo album blurred as your eyes filled with fresh tears. You had thought Jackson was the one, that you were finally going to have the life you’d always dreamed of. But now, that dream was gone, replaced by the harsh reality that you were alone, yet again.

And Spencer… you couldn’t deny the sting of that particular wound. You had pushed him away, trying to protect yourself, but in the end, it hadn’t mattered. He had hurt you anyway, and now you were left wondering if you would ever truly be able to trust someone again.

As you sat there on your couch, surrounded by the remnants of your broken heart, you couldn’t help but wonder if things would ever get better. Or if this was just the way it would always be—endlessly hoping, endlessly disappointed.

—

A knock on the door pulled you from the haze of your crying-induced slumber. You blinked, disoriented and groggy, not expecting anyone. At first, you tried to ignore it, assuming it was just a delivery person or maybe a neighbor. But the knocking persisted, growing more insistent. With a groan, you rolled off the couch, reluctantly dragging yourself to the door. You swung it open, puffy face and all, prepared to shoo away whoever was there.

Instead, you were met with the concerned face of Penelope Garcia. “Oh honey, come here,” she said, her voice soft and full of warmth as she immediately pulled you into a much-needed hug.

The floodgates opened again, and you found yourself crying into her shoulder, the weight of everything pouring out of you. Penelope held you tightly, rubbing your back and murmuring soothing words as you let it all out. Once you had cried yourself dry, she gently guided you back to the couch, making sure you were comfortable before she began tidying up the mess of tissues and empty mugs scattered around.

Penelope busied herself in the kitchen, making you a cup of tea, the comforting sounds of her movements a balm to your frayed nerves. When she returned, she handed you the warm mug and sat beside you, her hand resting on your knee in a gesture of quiet support.

“Pen… you really didn’t have to do all of this,” you said, your voice hoarse from all the crying.

“I know I don’t have to,” she replied, her tone firm but kind. “I want to.”

You managed a small, grateful smile. “Thank you. You’re a really good friend.”

Penelope smiled back, squeezing your knee. “I’m always here for you, sweetie. Do you want to tell me what’s got you in such a mess?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Me,” you said, the words tinged with self-deprecation. “I’m the problem.”

“I know that’s not true,” Penelope countered gently. She picked up the photo album from the coffee table, the one you had been staring at for hours. “Who is this?”

And so, for the next few hours, you told Penelope everything. You started from the beginning, recounting the pain of your parents’ divorce and how it had shaped your views on love and trust. You told her about your first relationship with Margo, how it had ended so abruptly and left you feeling lost. You explained how Jackson had swooped in that same day, picking up the pieces, only to shatter you even more five years later when he cheated on you and ruined the life you had built together.

You confessed how, after Jackson, you had spiraled, sleeping with random people just to feel something, anything. The emptiness had consumed you until you met Spencer, and for the first time in a long while, you had actually felt something real. But even that had ended in heartbreak, leaving you more confused and hurt than ever before.

Penelope listened intently, never interrupting, just letting you get it all out. When you finally finished, you felt drained but also a little lighter, as if sharing your burden had eased some of the weight on your shoulders.

Penelope looked at you with compassion in her eyes. “You’ve been through so much, Y/N. It’s no wonder you’re feeling like this. But you’re not alone, okay? You have people who care about you, who want to help you through this.”

You nodded, feeling the truth in her words. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could get better. And with Penelope by your side, you knew you didn’t have to face it all alone.

—

Spencer was struggling, caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions that he couldn’t quite reconcile. He knew what he had done wasn’t okay—it was uncalled for, cruel even. But despite that knowledge, there was a part of him that felt vindicated. After all, you had hurt him first. In his mind, that gave him a reason, however flimsy, to lash out.

He knew it was an extremely childish and lame excuse, but he was grasping for straws, trying to justify his actions to himself. The rational part of him recognized that his behavior had been immature and unprofessional, but the wounded part of him clung to the idea that you deserved it. You had made him feel abandoned and discarded, so why shouldn’t he make you feel the same?

But as much as he tried to convince himself that he was in the right, the guilt lingered. Spencer had always prided himself on being better than this—better than petty revenge, better than letting his emotions get the best of him. And yet, here he was, refusing to apologize, holding onto his hurt like a shield to protect himself from the vulnerability that had already been exposed.

The truth was, Spencer didn’t want to apologize. Not yet. Because apologizing meant admitting that he had overreacted, that he had let his feelings dictate his actions in a way that was unbecoming of him. It meant acknowledging that he had hurt you, just as you had hurt him, and that scared him. It was easier to stay angry, to keep the wall up between you, than to face the messy emotions lying beneath the surface.

But deep down, he knew that this wasn’t sustainable. He couldn’t keep holding onto his grudge, not if he wanted to move forward. The tension was eating away at him, and no matter how much he tried to justify his actions, the truth was undeniable: you both had hurt each other, and the only way to heal was to confront it head-on.

Yet, for now, Spencer was stuck in limbo, torn between the desire to hold onto his pride and the nagging realization that he needed to make things right.

—

The atmosphere on the jet was warm and filled with camaraderie as the team reminisced about their time together, particularly the time they had spent with you while JJ was on maternity leave.

“JJ, you would have loved her,” Derek said, a nostalgic smile on his face as he recalled your time on the team.

“I did get to meet her briefly before I went on leave!” JJ replied happily. “She was so sweet. I’m glad she was a good fit while I was gone.”

“Yeah, of course, we’re all so happy you’re back,” Emily added, gazing lovingly at JJ. “But if you need a break, you know who to send!”

Spencer sat quietly at the back of the jet, watching his teammates share fond memories of you as they traveled home from their first case with JJ back on the team. Everyone seemed to miss your positive attitude and bright presence—especially Spencer. Not that he was going to admit that, not even to himself.

During a video chat with Penelope, Derek’s curiosity got the better of him. “Garcia, you went and saw her this week, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I did,” Penelope confirmed, though her voice held a note of hesitation.

“Oh! How is she?” Emily asked excitedly.

Penelope paused, trying to tread carefully. “Um, she’s holding up,” she said, not wanting to give too much away but also not wanting to lie.

“Did something happen?” Derek asked, concern etched on his face. He had grown to care about you and was worried about what might be going on.

“Just some… personal things. She’ll be okay,” Penelope assured them, though her words did little to ease the tension.

Hotch, always the pragmatist, jumped in. “Did she say when she’ll be back? Emily and Spencer expressed interest in her help on previous cases.”

Everyone’s attention shifted to Spencer at that remark, surprised by Hotch’s comment. As far as they knew, Spencer wasn’t exactly your biggest fan. What they didn’t realize was that Spencer had asked Hotch about you in private, hoping for answers he didn’t want to admit he was seeking.

“No, she didn’t mention when she’ll be back to work,” Penelope replied, trying to sound casual.

The conversation eventually moved on, but Spencer stayed quiet, lost in his own thoughts. The knowledge that you weren’t doing well gnawed at him. Guilt tightened its grip on his heart. God, I’m an asshole, he thought bitterly.

Back at Quantico, Derek wasted no time. He cornered Spencer as soon as they got off the jet. “Reid, can I talk to you for a sec?” Derek’s tone left no room for refusal.

“Yeah, what’s up, Morgan?” Spencer replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Walk with me,” Derek said, leading the way to the break room, which was thankfully empty at that time of the evening. Once they were inside, Derek didn’t waste any time. “Do you remember telling me nothing was going on between you and Y/N?”

Spencer gulped, his throat suddenly dry as he realized where this conversation was headed. He could feel Derek’s eyes boring into him, the weight of his scrutiny heavy. “Uh-huh,” Spencer managed to get out, his voice tense.

Derek didn’t miss a beat, his expression unwavering as he leaned in slightly, his tone flat and unyielding. “I call bullshit.”

Spencer’s heart rate kicked up a notch, his mind scrambling for a way out of this. “Wh—what do you mean?” he stammered, trying to keep his composure even as his anxiety began to spike.

Derek crossed his arms, his gaze steady and unflinching. “You’re being weird, Reid. More so than usual.”

Spencer could feel the heat rising in his face, a flush of embarrassment mixed with frustration. He rolled his eyes, attempting to deflect with a weak jab. “Thanks,” he muttered, though he knew it wouldn’t be enough to throw Derek off the scent.

But Derek wasn’t letting it go, and Spencer knew he was cornered. The truth was about to come out, whether he was ready for it or not.

“I just mean that you’ve been moody, distant, grumpy. You snap at people, question Hotch. Anytime Y/N’s name is brought up, you get all twitchy, and you think we don’t notice, but we do. What happened, man?”

Spencer sighed, knowing he was caught. Stupid profilers. He realized there was no use trying to hide it anymore. Maybe if he confided in someone else, he could get some advice. Garcia was too biased, after all.

“Well, uh… we slept together before she started.”

“Whoa. Didn’t see that coming,” Derek admitted, clearly taken aback.

“Yeah. And she… she ditched me in the morning. In her own apartment. Never heard from her again until she showed up here.”

“Shit, man, really?”

“Mhm. I was so mad at her. She was acting like nothing happened, like she didn’t know me. So when we got that assignment in the club, I saw my opportunity, and I took it.”

Derek’s expression grew serious. “What did you do, Reid?”

“I… I used her,” Spencer confessed, his voice small.

Derek’s eyes widened in shock as he processed what Spencer had just revealed. “What? How?” Derek asked, his voice laced with disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend that Spencer, of all people, had done something so out of character.

Spencer swallowed hard, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. “That night… after the club… I went to her hotel room, and we… slept together. Again,” he admitted, his voice faltering slightly. “But this time… I left her.”

Derek stared at Spencer, the silence heavy between them. When he finally spoke, his tone was filled with disappointment. “That’s cold, man,” Derek said, shaking his head slowly, the disapproval clear in his voice. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing—this wasn’t the Spencer Reid he knew.

“I know,” Spencer replied quietly, his guilt evident. He looked down, unable to meet Derek’s gaze, the shame of his actions gnawing at him. He had crossed a line, and he knew it.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Derek pressed.

Spencer nodded, his shame overwhelming. “When we got back here, everyone was gone—at least, I thought they were—except Y/N. And I—I went up to her and said some nasty things. Letting her know I did it on purpose.”

“Reid… who are you?” Derek asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“I don’t know!” Spencer admitted, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’ve never felt like this before, and I feel so terrible. I don’t know how to fix it.”

Derek stared at Spencer, disbelief etched across his features. "Can you fix it? That’s fucked up, man."

Spencer’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. “Yeah, I’m not sure,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret and self-loathing. He couldn’t meet Derek’s gaze, the shame too overwhelming.

Derek sighed, his mind working to piece together the situation. “You said someone else was there?” he asked, his tone cautious as he tried to understand the full scope of what had happened.

“Penelope,” Spencer confirmed, the word coming out almost as a sigh.

Derek’s eyes widened slightly. “And she didn’t tell me? I’m gonna have to spank her,” he muttered, shaking his head, though his voice lacked its usual playfulness.

“She told me to fix things,” Spencer continued, his voice trembling slightly. “I guess Y/N was a mess.”

“I bet she was,” Derek said, his tone softening with a mixture of sympathy for you and disappointment in Spencer.

“But I don’t know how,” Spencer admitted, his frustration evident. He was desperate to make things right, but he was lost, unsure of where to even begin.

Derek’s expression grew stern, his disappointment clear. “Honestly, Reid, you’re on your own with this one. I’d love to help, but… I’m really disappointed in you.” His words were blunt, but they needed to be. Spencer had crossed a line, and Derek wasn’t going to sugarcoat that.

Spencer nodded, tears finally spilling over as he realized just how badly he had screwed things up.

Derek’s expression softened slightly. “I still love you, and I want you to make it better, but I wouldn’t blame her for not forgiving you.”

“I know,” Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible as he grappled with the weight of his actions.

—

After Penelope’s visit, you really tried to pull yourself together. Knowing that you had a friend who was willing to show up, help, and listen just because they cared was enough to get you off the couch. It was a reminder that you weren’t as alone as you felt, that there were people who genuinely cared about your well-being. That realization gave you the strength to take the first steps toward healing.

You began by slowly cleaning your apartment, reclaiming your space from the chaos that had taken over. The simple act of tidying up felt like a small victory, a sign that you were starting to regain control. You indulged in some much-needed self-care—long baths, good food, and moments of quiet reflection. It was during these moments of solitude that you finally allowed yourself to confront the emotions you had been avoiding.

In the end, you came to a few important realizations. Yes, you did like Spencer more than you had anticipated, more than you had wanted to admit to yourself. But he had hurt you, and that pain couldn’t be ignored. You wondered if you could ever trust him again, and whether you were willing to take that risk. After much contemplation, you decided that it was time to be the bigger person. You needed to apologize to Spencer, to acknowledge your part in the situation, and to put it all behind you so that you could move forward—both professionally and personally.

However, the thought of facing Spencer in person was daunting. It felt like too much, too fast. You had already done more personal growth in the past few days than you had in years, and you weren’t quite ready for that kind of confrontation. So, you chose the next best route: writing a letter. It was a way to express yourself honestly without the pressure of a face-to-face conversation.

You took a deep breath and began to write.

Spencer—

Clearly, we have let things get too far, and we are both to blame for that. I’m sorry that I initially approached you and started things up between us. And I am sorry for leaving you that morning; I was so used to avoiding intimacy that when I felt a spark with you, I ran instead of confronting it. That was my mistake, and you did not deserve that.

I was unaware that you had felt something as well. Had I known, I would have talked to you sooner instead of facing you with pure professionalism.

As for our last case, let’s just forget about it and put it behind us. I want to be able to work together in the future and not hold any grudges if that is okay with you.

I hope you can forgive me. I’m sorry, Spencer.

Y/N

You read the letter over a few times, making sure it said everything you needed it to. It wasn’t perfect, but it was honest, and that was what mattered. You hoped that by reaching out, you could begin to mend the rift between you and Spencer, even if it was just enough to work together without the weight of the past hanging over you.

With the letter finished, you carefully folded it and placed it in an envelope. As you sealed it, you felt a small sense of relief. Whatever happened next, at least you had taken the first step. The rest was up to Spencer.

—

Returning to work the next week, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. The time off had done you some good, giving you the space to process everything that had happened and to refocus on what mattered. You were ready to dive back into the work that you loved, ready to face whatever challenges came your way—bad guys and all.

But before you could truly settle in, there was one task you needed to take care of. You arrived at the office extra early, the halls still quiet and the lights dim. You moved through the bullpen with a sense of stealth, hoping to avoid any of your early-rising colleagues. The letter to Spencer was safely tucked into your bag, and you were determined to drop it off on his desk without anyone noticing.

You approached his workspace, heart pounding slightly as you pulled the envelope out and set it down. You took a moment to look around, ensuring you were alone, before placing it neatly on top of the stack of papers already waiting for him. The envelope stood out against the manila folders, a small but significant gesture.

You didn’t know how or if you’d hear back from Spencer. Part of you wondered if he’d read it and simply brush it aside, or if he’d respond in some way. But regardless of the outcome, you felt a sense of closure just knowing that you had reached out, that you had done your part to clear the air. Whatever happened next was in his hands.

With the letter delivered, you headed to your own desk, ready to start the day. There was work to be done, cases to solve, and while the tension with Spencer might still linger, you were determined not to let it hold you back. For now, you would focus on what you did best—being a valuable member of the team and making a difference in the world.

—

Spencer walked into work as usual, his routine in full swing as he slung his bag over the back of his chair. But something on his desk caught his eye—a white envelope with his name written on it in a familiar handwriting. He froze, recognition dawning on him. It looked just like the writing on the note you’d left him that morning at your apartment.

His heart pounded as he quickly opened the envelope, unfolding the letter inside. As he read your words, a sinking feeling settled in his stomach. You thought you were to blame? Spencer’s guilt surged, hitting him like a tidal wave. He had been angry and hurt when you left him, but now, realizing how much pain he had caused you in return, he felt even more like an asshole than before. This wouldn’t do at all. Spencer couldn’t stand the thought of you carrying the blame for what had happened between you two.

He knew he had to find you—now. He needed to make things right.

Without wasting another second, Spencer made a beeline for Penelope’s lair. He found her surrounded by her monitors, fingers flying over the keys.

“Garcia,” he began, trying to catch his breath, “do you know what department Y/N is in? I need to talk to her, apologize.”

Penelope turned to him, eyebrows raised skeptically. “Counterterrorism.”

“Thank you!” Spencer replied, already turning on his heel to head toward the elevator.

He punched the button for your floor, his nerves growing with each passing second. The setup was similar to their own, and it didn’t take him long to find the cluster of desks where you were stationed. He spotted someone he recognized—Jordan—and hurried over.

“Jordan, is Y/N here?” Spencer asked, trying not to sound too frantic.

“Uh, hello to you too, Spencer. Yeah, she’s in her office,” Jordan replied with a bemused smile.

“Thanks!” Spencer said quickly, making his way to the office with your name on the door. He paused outside, taking a deep breath to steady himself before knocking.

“Come in,” he heard your voice call from inside.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, feeling a rush of emotions as you looked up from your desk. Your eyes widened slightly in surprise before your expression quickly shifted to one of neutral professionalism.

“Hello, Doctor Reid. Can I help you?” you asked kindly, though there was a distance in your tone that made Spencer’s heart sink.

“You should have never apologized to me,” Spencer blurted out, unable to hold back.

You blinked, confused. “I’m sorry?”

“No, no, I mean—I should be the one apologizing,” Spencer clarified, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I was the jerk. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Spencer…” you began, but he could see the weariness in your eyes. “It’s over. Let’s let the past be the past.”

“No!” Spencer’s voice was more forceful than he intended, and he took a step closer to your desk. “I don’t want to push it aside. I want to talk about it. I want to fix things between us.”

You seemed taken aback by his intensity. “Why?”

“Because I care about you. I like you,” Spencer admitted, his voice softening as he finally voiced what he had been keeping inside.

“Oh,” was all you managed to say, your own emotions conflicting.

“Yeah,” Spencer let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I was kind of hoping you’d say you liked me too.”

You hesitated, glancing down at the papers on your desk before looking back up at him. “Oh, well, um, can we talk? After work? I’m really busy right now,” you said, your tone apologetic.

Spencer felt a pang of defeat, the familiar sting of rejection threatening to surface again. But he nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. “Yeah, do you want to come to mine?”

“No,” you shook your head gently. “How about we just talk here? Can you come back around 6?”

“Okay,” Spencer agreed, though the sinking feeling in his chest didn’t quite go away as he turned to leave your office.

As he walked back to his own floor, he couldn’t help but worry about what the conversation would bring. But he knew one thing for certain—he wasn’t going to let this chance to fix things between you slip through his fingers. Not again.

—

When Spencer returned to the bullpen, he immediately noticed Derek standing in the doorway to Penelope’s office. The two of them seemed deep in conversation, their body language tense. Spencer’s gut told him they were talking about him—he could feel it. The atmosphere had shifted, and when Derek glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of Spencer, his suspicions were confirmed.

Spencer knew he couldn’t avoid this, so he gathered what little pride he had left and walked over to them, trying to appear more composed than he felt.

“Baby girl here tells me you went to see Y/N?” Derek asked the moment Spencer stepped inside the office, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Yeah, I tried to apologize,” Spencer admitted, his voice lacking its usual confidence.

“Tried?” Penelope’s voice was softer than it had been earlier, her concern for both of you evident.

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She left me a note this morning. It was on my desk when I got here. She took responsibility for everything that happened, asked if we could forgive and forget. I felt so awful because I’m the one who made a mess of everything. So I went to go tell her that, but she asked me to come back after work because she’s busy.”

Penelope exchanged a glance with Derek, her expression softening further. “And how did that make you feel?” she asked gently.

“Defeated, I guess,” Spencer replied, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I wanted to fix things right away, but it feels like I just keep making things worse.”

Derek crossed his arms, his gaze steady on Spencer. “You’ve got to understand, man, she’s probably just as conflicted as you are. Maybe even more. This isn’t going to be a quick fix.”

Penelope nodded in agreement. “She’s trying to process everything too, Spencer. Give her the time she needs, and don’t push too hard. But don’t give up either. If you really want to make things right, show her that you’re willing to do the work.”

Spencer nodded slowly, taking in their advice. He knew they were right, but the waiting, the uncertainty—it was eating at him. Still, he couldn’t force this. He had to be patient, had to respect your boundaries. He just hoped that when the time came, you’d be willing to let him in again.

—

The clock felt like it was crawling at a snail's pace to Spencer. He watched as the seconds ticked by for what felt like hours—though it was really just minutes, probably. To you, though, time was slipping away faster than it ever had before. You were dreading this conversation. You had hoped the two of you could put this all behind you, maybe be friends one day, and then, maybe—just maybe—something more. But you knew that if you talked to him right now, one look into those big, beautiful brown eyes and you’d melt faster than Derek when Penelope called his name.

But alas, you had already agreed to talk, and those puppy eyes had already got you. Honestly, you were just proud of yourself for having the resolve to ask him to come back later instead of jumping over the desk and into his arms the second he said he liked you.

Your thoughts were still spiraling when that much-anticipated knock on your office door came. You cleared your throat, trying to steady yourself, before calling out, “Come in.”

—

Flashback…

“Come in,” you called out, your voice light and unassuming as a knock sounded on your office door.

“Hey,” Jackson’s head appeared in the doorway, his expression hesitant.

“Oh, hey babe,” you perked up at the sight of him, but something about his demeanor immediately put you on edge.

“Can we talk?” he asked, stepping inside with an uneasy shift in his posture.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied, your smile fading as you sensed that something was off. “What’s up?”

“Uh, so there’s not a great way to tell you this…” he started, his voice trailing off, filled with uncertainty.

Your stomach twisted with sudden anxiety. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. For now,” he answered, but there was no comfort in his tone.

“Jackson, spit it out,” you demanded, losing patience as the tension built.

“I got someone pregnant.”

Your entire world stopped. The air around you seemed to thicken, your ears buzzing like they were filled with water, your lungs constricting as if you were drowning on dry land. The words didn’t make sense, not at first. Not until they slammed into you with full force.

“Who?” you managed to choke out, though a part of you already feared the answer.

“Jessica.”

“My best friend, Jessica?” The disbelief in your voice was palpable, a desperate hope clinging to the idea that this might be some horrible joke.

“That one, yup,” he confirmed, his voice lacking any hint of remorse.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Please tell me this is a joke and you’re going to propose instead,” you pleaded, your voice rising as anger and heartbreak collided.

“What? No, Y/N, I’m being serious.”

“Then why did I find a fucking engagement ring in your sock drawer?” you demanded, your anger boiling over as your heart cracked in two.

“Why were you in my sock drawer?” he deflected, his tone defensive.

“I was doing laundry! Answer me, Jackson!”

“I’m going to ask Jessica to marry me,” he said, his words hitting you like a sledgehammer.

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of the betrayal. “Is it because she’s pregnant… or do you love her?” you asked, your voice trembling. You weren’t sure you wanted to know, but you needed the truth.

“I—I love her,” he admitted, his voice weak.

“How long?” you asked, your voice eerily calm as the tears began to stream down your face. The numbness was already setting in, the shock taking over, leaving your gaze blank and distant. Jackson had never seen you like this in all the years you’d been together, not even when he first found you on that bench.

“What?” he stammered, thrown by your sudden composure.

“How long have you been sleeping with her?” you repeated, the question sharp and cold.

“A few months,” he confessed, his voice barely audible.

“Get out,” you ordered, your voice devoid of emotion.

“Y/N—”

“Get the fuck out, Jackson!” you shouted, the rage finally breaking through the numbness.

Jackson hesitated, guilt flashing in his eyes. “Um, before I go—and I will—you need to move out.”

The final blow. The nail in the coffin. You couldn’t believe the audacity, the cruelty. “I hope you both live a very unhappy and unfulfilling life,” you spat, your voice dripping with venom.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he offered weakly, but the apology was hollow, meaningless.

You turned away from him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing any more of your pain. Jackson left without another word, leaving you alone with the shattered remnants of what you thought was your future.

—

Present

Spencer walked in, closing the door softly behind him before turning to face you. “Hi,” he breathed out, his voice carrying a mix of nervousness and resolve.

“Hi, Spencer,” you replied, your tone equally cautious but warm.

“How was your day?” he asked, clearly trying to ease into the conversation that both of you knew was coming.

“Agonizing, thanks. And yours?” you responded, a hint of humor lacing your words despite the tension.

“Just about the same,” he admitted with a small, rueful smile. “I’m sorry about that too. Should we just lay it all out? No more tiptoeing around?”

“Probably,” you agreed, feeling the weight of the conversation ahead settle in your chest.

“Okay,” Spencer said, taking a deep breath as he prepared to speak. “I can go first if it’s easier.” You nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

“Um, I don’t date much. Or sleep around, ever, really. So spending that night with you was important to me. Especially because it was with you,” he said earnestly, his eyes meeting yours with sincerity. “I really enjoyed the time we spent together—the convention, the bar, your place, all of it. I was so, so hurt when you were gone the next morning. It took me weeks to make peace with the fact that you’d left without a word. And then you showed up to my work, the new girl, and acted like nothing ever happened. While I understand now why you did that, it still stung—a lot.”

Spencer paused, taking a breath as if to steady himself. You opened your mouth to respond, but he shook his head, signaling that he wasn’t finished yet.

“But even when you were pushing our time together aside, you were so kind and helpful, so good at your job… it sucked,” he laughed lightly, though there was an edge of bitterness to it. “Because I wanted to hate you so badly, but I don’t know how anyone ever could hate you.” Your eyes welled up with tears at his words—he had no idea how much that simple sentence meant to you.

“Then you noticed little things about me,” Spencer continued, his voice softer now. “You drove when we were paired, you never grabbed my hands, you didn’t force me to talk to you… you were so considerate. When we had that assignment to play a couple at the club, I was so upset because that’s all I wanted—I wanted you to be my girlfriend, I wanted it to be real. But it wasn’t,” he smiled sadly, his eyes reflecting the regret he felt. “And afterwards, when I was feeling sorry for myself, I decided it was your fault we weren’t together, and that I wanted to hurt you back.”

Spencer looked down, fidgeting with his hands as he searched for the right words. You waited, sensing that this was the hardest part for him to admit.

“That was the meanest, cruelest, most immature thing I have ever done. And I am so, so sorry,” he said, his voice trembling with genuine remorse. “I understand if you don’t forgive me, but I just need you to know how amazing you are, and how none of my actions are at all a reflection of you or how I feel about you.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. You could see how much it had taken for him to come here and lay it all out, to admit his wrongs and ask for forgiveness. And as much as the hurt still lingered, you could see that he was sincere, that he truly regretted what he had done.

—

Flashback…

“Y/N! Y/N, please! Just hear me out!” Jackson’s voice was desperate as he called after you, his footsteps quickening as he tried to catch up.

You stopped in your tracks, spinning around to face him, your glare so hot it could have burned him alive. “Jackson! Enough!” you seethed, the fury in your voice cutting through the air like a knife.

“Please… I need to explain,” he pleaded, his eyes wide with panic.

“Explain what?” you snapped. “You cheated with my best friend, got her pregnant, and dumped me. What more is there?”

His face crumpled as he tried to find the right words. “I still love you,” he blurted out, his voice trembling with emotion.

“Go fuck yourself. Or Jessica. I really don’t care,” you retorted, your voice dripping with disdain.

“No, baby, please—”

“Do not call me that,” you cut him off, your tone icy.

“Okay,” he muttered, stepping back with his hands up in surrender. “Just, please?”

You crossed your arms, staring him down. “Fine. Two minutes.”

Jackson blinked, caught off guard by the time limit. “How am I supposed to tell you everything in two minutes?” he asked, panic rising in his voice.

“Time’s ticking, troglodyte,” you shot back, your patience wearing thin.

“What’s that? Wait, no, don’t answer that,” he stammered, realizing he was wasting precious seconds. “Okay, well, I just… I’m so insecure, and I was worried you didn’t like me anymore, and Jessica made me feel good about myself—”

“Bullshit,” you interrupted, your eyes narrowing.

“No, no, it’s true,” he insisted, his voice wavering.

“You’re saying it’s my fault you cheated?” you asked, your voice deadly calm.

“No! You were so busy, and I needed attention,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush.

“So it’s my fault,” you repeated, your anger simmering beneath the surface.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, his voice rising in desperation. “Please, stop interrupting me. We got into this routine that made every day feel so mundane. We never did anything exciting anymore, and Jessica was new and thrilling, and—”

“Time’s up,” you interrupted, your voice cold and final. “Bye.”

“Y/N—” he started, reaching out as if to stop you, but you were already walking away, your footsteps resolute as you disappeared down the crowded sidewalk.

Jackson stood there, his hand falling limply to his side as he watched you vanish into the throng of people. He knew, in that moment, that he had lost you for good.

—

Present

“You wanted me to be your girlfriend?” you asked, your voice small and uncertain.

Spencer looked up, startled by the calmness in your tone. There was no anger, no bitterness—just a quiet curiosity. “Yeah, I really did,” he admitted, his heart racing.

“You don’t anymore?” you asked, your eyes searching his face for an answer.

“Huh?” Spencer blinked, caught off guard by the question.

“You said ‘wanted’ and ‘did,’” you explained, your voice wavering slightly. “I’m just wondering if the feelings stopped.”

Realization dawned on him, and he quickly shook his head. “No, they didn’t.” Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest as he took a bold leap, hoping it was worth the risk.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as Spencer watched you, his nerves on edge. “Listen, Spencer…” you began, and his heart sank as he braced himself for the rejection he feared was coming. He dropped his gaze, the weight of your words pressing down on him. “I have a lot of baggage. I’m basically damaged goods,” you laughed sadly, the sound tinged with self-doubt. “I haven’t been someone’s girlfriend in a long time. I don’t know that I would be any good at it.”

Spencer nodded, feeling the final sting of rejection sink in. He understood, or at least he thought he did. But then your words started to process, and something didn’t add up. “Wait,” he said, his head snapping up as he noticed the small smile playing on your lips. “What are you saying?”

You met his gaze, the warmth in your eyes catching him off guard. “I’m saying, if you’re willing to be patient with me, I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat, disbelief and joy swirling together as he processed what you were saying. A smile slowly spread across his face, the weight he’d been carrying for weeks suddenly lifting. “Are you serious?” he asked, his voice filled with hope.

You nodded, your smile widening. “Yeah, I’m serious.”

In that moment, Spencer felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time—pure, unfiltered happiness. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as it found yours. “I’ll be patient,” he promised, his voice soft but firm. “I’ll be whatever you need.”

You squeezed his hand, a sense of relief washing over you as the tension between you finally began to melt away. For the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe, just maybe, this could work.

“What if all my baggage is too heavy?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly with lingering doubts.

Spencer’s expression softened as he looked at you, his eyes filled with understanding. “Y/N, I’ve been kidnapped, drugged, addicted to said drugs, and tortured. I don’t think anything you say will scare me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh through the mild tears that had formed over the course of the conversation. His words, though dark, were comforting in their own way. “Thank you, Spencer.”

“Are you sure you can handle me?” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Not at all,” you shook your head, your laughter mixing with his. “But I’d rather be with you than without.”

Spencer’s heart swelled at your words, and without thinking, he leaned over your desk and kissed you. This kiss was different from all the ones you’d shared before—it wasn’t driven by lust or desperation, but by care, passion, and something that felt a lot like love.

When he finally pulled back, he couldn’t help but smile at the dazed look on your face, your lips still parted slightly in surprise. “One more thing,” he added, his voice light but a little sheepish.

“Mhm,” you managed, still a bit breathless as you looked up at him.

“Penelope and Derek know everything… sorry. They’re pissed at me.” Spencer laughed a bit at himself.

You blinked, then smiled. “Penelope already knew, babe,” you reassured him. “I’ll make sure they know everything’s good.”

Spencer let out a relieved sigh, grateful for your understanding. “Thank you,” he said softly, his hand gently brushing your cheek.

You leaned into his touch, the weight of your worries finally beginning to lift. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you wouldn’t have to face them alone—not anymore.

—

Three years later

“Y/N?” The sound of your name caused you to spin around from where you were examining flowers with Spencer.

“Jackson?” The shock in your voice was unmistakable as you registered the familiar face.

“Oh my god, wow!” Jackson exclaimed, stepping closer with a broad smile. “It’s so good to see you! How have you been?” He moved in for a hug, but you kept your hands on the flowers, avoiding the embrace.

He quickly took the hint, stepping back awkwardly. “Uh, good. You?” you asked, your tone polite but distant.

“I’m great, yeah! Still working on base. What are you up to?” Jackson’s voice held a note of forced cheerfulness, as if trying to bridge the years that had passed.

“FBI,” you replied simply.

“Wow! That’s amazing! What do you do—” Jackson began, but his question was abruptly cut off as Spencer approached, holding a different set of flowers and unaware of who Jackson was.

“Darling, what do you think of these?” Spencer asked, holding up the bouquet for you to see, his tone casual and affectionate.

“Those are beautiful, baby,” you replied with a warm smile, feeling a sense of calm wash over you as you turned your attention back to Spencer.

Jackson cleared his throat, drawing your focus back to him. “Who’s this?” he asked, clearly caught off guard by the presence of another man.

“Oh!” You had honestly forgotten he was still there. “This is my fiancé,” you said, a note of pride in your voice as you gestured to Spencer.

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” Spencer introduced himself, nodding politely but with a friendly demeanor.

“Oh, hi. Uh, Jackson,” he replied, awkwardly extending his hand, which Spencer smiled at and lifted his in a wave as a response.

There was a tense silence, filled only by the ambient noise of the flower shop. Jackson looked like he had more to say, but the words seemed to elude him. Meanwhile, you felt nothing but gratitude for the life you had built with Spencer—one filled with love, trust, and a future that Jackson no longer had any part of.

“Are you guys, uh, looking at flowers for your wedding?” Jackson asked, his voice a little hesitant as he glanced between you and Spencer.

“Yeah, we wanted to pick everything together,” you replied, smiling up at your very handsome fiancé. The warmth in your voice was undeniable, and it wasn’t lost on Jackson.

“And you?” Spencer asked politely, still unsure of who this man was but trying to be courteous.

“Oh, uh, these are ‘I’m sorry’ flowers for my girlfriend,” Jackson laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

“Jessica?” you asked before you could stop yourself. At the mention of her name, Spencer’s expression shifted, finally catching on to who Jackson was.

“No, hah, we broke up a long time ago,” Jackson admitted, the awkwardness between the three of you growing palpable.

“Ah, well, I hope your child is doing well,” you said, your tone polite but distant. You nodded to Jackson before turning back to Spencer, gently tugging him by your laced fingers as you both walked away, trying to stifle the giggles that threatened to escape.

Once you were out of earshot, Spencer leaned in, a mischievous grin on his face. “Was that your ex?”

“Mhm,” you confirmed, grinning back at him.

“What a charmer,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You laughed, the tension from the unexpected encounter melting away. “You know, I’m really glad it’s you I’m marrying.”

“Me too,” Spencer replied, squeezing your hand affectionately as you both walked out of the shop, leaving the past firmly behind you.

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