#he hits him because it's the only way he can touch him

[gojosprettyprincess]

TOJI FUCKING YOU WITH HIS GUN ૮꒰ྀི⊃´ ꒳ `⊂ྀི꒱ა

Tw - gun play, dubcon. Don’t take this seriously, I was like half asleep while writing it :( Not proofread.

“You’re so disgusting baby, can’t believe you’re getting off from this” Toji scoffs in a condescending tone. He callously digs the nuzzle of his gun further into your bare cunt with brutal force that made your legs tremble.

The foreign sensation had your toes instinctively curling in the air because of the startling touch of the cool metal pressing into your delicate core.

“N-no, g-get it out!” You pleaded fearfully, your voice quivering as you desperately tried to wiggle yourself off his lap. His strong grip on your thighs only tightened, preventing your escape. You could feel the warm pool of slick gradually welling up around his gun as it slowly sank deeper into your drooling cunt.

“No? Then why’s this pussy so wet, you’re soaking up my gun like a pathetic little slut, baby” he chuckled wickedly at the irony as he peered down to where you’re seated on his lap, your back is flushed against his taut abs— feeling the warmth of his body enveloping yours.

He unawarely licks his scarred lips at the pretty mess encircling between your plush thighs. An evident wet patch is forming around his gun and he can’t help but coo at how messy you are, despite how dangerous it is.

Or maybe that’s why you’re so messy to begin with.

“You know I can pull the fucking trigger right now and you’ll die but I bet that didn’t cross your mind, did it?”. He taunts mockingly, starting a slow pace in your cunny and watching how the inviting little hole happily swallows the gun deeper in. “As long as you have something stuffed in this greedy pussy, that’s all you care about, huh?”.

You immediately released a delicious moan when the gun’s trigger brushes against your throbbing clit, rubbing against it and creating a new wave of pleasure. You felt a rush of embarrassment as your body betrayed your own resistance.

Toji’s eyes lit up with pure satisfaction, taking pleasure in your helplessness.

“Fuck— you’re so sick Toji!” You exclaimed before thrashing your head back against his hard chest, a shuddering sigh escaping your lips as your eyes clenched shut tightly. Your heart thundering in your chest as the cool metal invaded your most intimate part.

“Awe but you love it, don’t you baby. s’why your little cunt is drooling everywhere”. His breath is hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine because of how it gave you goosebumps.

You wanted to deny it, to fight against the forbidden pleasure he was forcing upon you but the way your eager core was clenching with need around the unfamiliar object wasn’t making it even slightly possible.

He pressed his gun further, inch by inch until you were fully impaled by the steel. The metal widened the entrance of your cunny, forcibly stretching it open as he fucks in and out. The sight of his muscular forearm tensing and bulging with his motions didn’t help your cunt from soaking the object one bit.

He deftly maneuvers the arm that had been holding your thighs, positioning it underneath to allow him to bring his hand up to delicately tease your hard nipples, gently rolling it between his rough fingertips. You arched against his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. “Need you to cum f’me baby, cum on daddy’s gun yeah? You can do it”.

His words are like fuel to the fire, igniting a need deep within you. You can feel the tension coiling tighter, the gun’s trigger teasing your sensitive bud with every thrust and working against your favor.

“N-no…I..fuck!” You struggled to form coherent words as Toji’s skilled movements pushed you closer to the edge. You can feel the way his clothed erection is throbbing underneath your ass, poking against you like it’s trying to bore a hole into your body.

“Come on baby, y’can do it, cream on it f’me” his voice is commanding, leaving no room for refusal. The gun was repeatedly hitting your sweet spot, prodding and poking against it for your arousal. It made your resistance crumble, your body surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure.

“Mmph! Toji— stop–fuckk!” You cried out, your nails digging into his hefty forearm as you rode the wave of ecstasy. Your juices was steeping out and soaking both him and the weapon. The sticky cream decorating his gun and leaking onto his lap. He licks a long stripe of your face with a proud grin as he keeps plunging it in and out of you.

“Fuck yes, that’s a good girl, baby. Look at that fucking mess, shit” he groans as his hardened cock twitches with desperate need to be buried inside of you.

He quickly pulled the gun out of your soppy pussy and brought it up to your face for you to witness. Your essence was leaking everywhere as he showed you the mess. “See that? You’re nothing but a fucking whore that wants always something buried up your cunt. But s’okay baby, that’s why I love you”. He hummed contentedly with a warm kiss on your temple.

“Clean it” that was all you heard before he stuffed the gun into your mouth, making you gag around it as you tasted the sweet remnants of your own essence. The taste melts on your tastebuds, making you whimper. You swirled your tongue around the metal, sucking off your cum.

“That's it, baby,” he growled in a hoarse tone, thick with desire, urging you to continue. “Keep sucking it, get it all wet, and soak f’me so I can bury it in your other hole next”.

[azsazz]

Scorched & Scarred

Eris x Reader

Summary: You are the only healer that Eris has ever really trusted.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, wounds, blood, gore, scarring, angst.

Word Count: 1680

_________________________________________

You don’t say a word when he appears in your room, swaying in his spot.

You can’t. For one, he won’t hear of it. Wouldn’t deign to respond with merely a grunt of acknowledgement should you bring his state up. He doesn’t want your help, except that he does. He doesn’t want your sympathy, but he has it. He hates it. He hates that he loves it.

Today, is a particularly bad day.

You bite back the gasp in your throat when you blink through the bleariness of sleep. His head is hung toward the ground and he’s hugging himself so tightly that for a moment, you fear that he’s holding his insides in his hands. Even still, you don’t miss the blood dribbling from his nose. Or is it spilling from a split in his lip? Crawled up his throat from his lungs? Nothing would surprise you. There’s a gash on his forehead, like the one he received weeks ago, splitting his brow in two.

“Eris,” you breathe, throwing back your sheets. There’s a bite of cold as your toes hit the floor that you don’t register. You’re already halfway to him, arms outstretched, worry struck across your face.

He flinches. You halt, remembering who it is that has come to see you. The abused eldest son of the Court of Autumn with an affinity for pain.

You need to be gentle.

You need to be you.

You can’t approach him quickly. You can’t set your hands upon his bruised and banged skin until he’s ready, until his breathing has evened out. You can see the way he’s freaking out, the terror behind those amber eyes. He knows exactly who you are, but his father’s threats hang in his head like a broken record, taunting him, telling him not to seek a healer.

Should his father find out he crawled into your chamber like the pathetic male he thinks he is, his punishment will be even worse.

You wait patiently; a gentle hand offered like he’s a scared dog. You know the drill: wait until Eris allows you to touch him, and then you may begin your healing. It doesn’t matter how much fear seeps into your own expression the longer you wait, Eris takes his time finding his footing before reaching his trembling fingers out and placing his hand in yours.

You’re desperate to squeeze him like a lifeline, but you must keep your touch gentle. You slowly guide Eris to the foot of your bed where you help him sit before assessing his wounds. His face is mottled with cuts and bruises. There’s a tear in the shoulder of his silky, olive-colored shirt, the fabric clinging to the wound that oozes blood.

You swallow back the emotion that seizes your throat.

Your hands are tepid against his cheeks. Your power trickles through his body like magma, warming him to his bones. He clenches his amber eyes shut and bites back a whimper, not of pain, but because he hasn’t felt an embrace like this since the last time he was in your arms. He steels himself so he doesn’t careen into your hips where he can rest his head and wrap his trembling hands around your legs to pull you close.

Eris hasn’t been touched this softly in a long time.

In fact, you’re the only one to ever see him like this. Well, besides his father and the fae sadist he sometimes uses to dole out his punishments. You know every cut, laceration, broken bone he’s ever had. You’re the only one he trusts to heal him.

He can feel the words you want to say, the ones you’re keeping locked in your chest. Your hands are soft as they trail down his back, tender, as if your featherlight touch will do anything to stop the intense pain that burns through his body like a lance. Every single touch is a new wound to his skin, another blade dragging down the length of his spine, a stab of something he’s never experienced plunging into his heart.

Eris holds in a scream.

“Say it,” he grits when his tongue can form the words. The pain ebbs slowly, much too slowly for his liking. He sits before you, a broken prince. If his father knew where he crawled off too after the punishments that he received, you’d surely get the same treatment, and Eris can’t fathom the thought of you experiencing anything close to what has been done to him. He can’t even stand when you hit your elbow on the edge of your dresser or when you bite your tongue when he brings you lunch when you’re knee deep in work. Because fae heal quicker than humans, his father expects Eris to continue his days in debilitating pain until the wounds close on their own. Until he learns his lesson.

He trembles when your fingers brush over the bruises on his cheeks, moving fully away from the freckled skin of his back. The wounds are healed over the best you can manage, but there is no fixing the scars that run long lines down his back, from when he was a boy, from before you were a healer.

Your breath stalls in your throat at the same time Eris captures your wrists in his hands, halting your movements. There’s a cut in his lip, across the bridge of his nose that has shifted out of place. Both of his eyes are painted with dark circles beneath them, but they shine amber with anger.

“Say. It.”

You shake your head softly, gently pulling from his grasp. You brush your thumb across his lip, watching intently as the skin knits back together. Eris’ eyes flutter and you catch the painful bob of his throat, the one that makes him grimace and his lashes clump with wetness. “I won’t.”

“You must.

So, it is with a voice shaky with fear that you murmur your worries aloud, “He will kill you next time.”

You admission is like a breath of relief to Eris. He exhales harshly but doesn’t drop the one wrist his fingers are still wrapped around. Of course, you tell him this every time he visits you, and with his appearances to your private quarters for healing become more frequent, it’s only a matter of time until he’s so harmed that you won’t be able to bring him back.

“He won’t,” he says, and it doesn’t even sound like he believes it. He has six brothers. Six heirs to the throne. Six replacements.

You shake your head to yourself, quickly wiping the tear that rolls hot down your cheek before Eris sees.

Your warmth is much different than his. It’s soft, a reassurance against his skin. Healing. The fire that flares through his veins is of something much coarser. He is fueled by hatred and jealousy. Disappointment and failure.

Nothing has ever been easy. Eris keeps his feelings locked up tight. He has learned under the sharp blade of a knife poised beneath his chin. What they didn’t know is that harsh words they sprung cut deeper than any weapon ever could.

Your words are…he doesn’t know how to explain what the minute tremble of fear in your voice means. He stopped being fearful a long time ago, but here you are, fearing for him. That one day they might go too far, might cut his tongue from his mouth or pierce an eye out with the tip of a blade. Like they might let their restrain snap and become the bloodthirsty beasts he always knew they were. That they’ll kill him one day soon.

The way your hands feel against his skin makes emotion clog his throat. He has never felt a touch speak so many words. He’s never been treated softly. He’s been ignored by his mother and abused by his father. Neglected by both.

He doesn’t understand the way you make him feel. The clenching of his stomach, the rapid beating of his heart, the feeling that stirs between his legs when he sees you.

He wonders for a moment how your warm hands might feel wrapped around a different part of his body.

Eris closes his eyes. The tension rolls from his shoulders with each wound that heals. His head bobs and he can’t help but slump into you as the adrenaline wears off and exhaustion weights heavy on his body.

You catch him, cradle him against your body. Your fingers find his auburn hair and rub lightly.

Eris moans against your legs and the feeling vibrates through your body. You carefully keep your thighs from clenching.

“Eris,” you whisper, stroking every part of him that you can. Someday you’ll be brave enough to tell him how he makes you feel. How strong you think he is, how badly he should leave this court and not look back. For now, the terrified feeling in your chest stops you from admitting just that. “You need rest.”

“Stay?” He asks, and a sad smile cracks your lips. He barely even knows where he is, that you haven’t found him bleeding on the floor of his room and are patching him up. All he knows is the caring cradle of your arms.

“Yes,” you murmur, and help him lean back into the spot where you’d leapt from your bed upon his arrival. You help him with his shoes, his belt and the scabbard at his hip, sans weapons.

They always take his weapons.

A noise of surprise catches in your throat when Eris’ hands close around your hips and he yanks you into the plush bed with him. He’s already half asleep, fully clothed, and he releases you just enough for you to slip under the sheets and pull them up around the both of you. By the time you settle, Eris is clinging to you like a lifeline, a thigh tucked between your legs, his arms a vice around your back. You’re entrapped in his limbs, exactly where he wants you. Exactly where you want to be.

[moonstruckme]

hai lovie!!! im not sure of youve written something like this for emt!marauders yet but could you write something where they come home from work to reader lying on the floor on the hallway due to having low blood pressure and shed tried to go get something to eat or something but had started feeling faint and had to lie down? and then when they come up to reader she starts to cry because being unwell makes her anxious (im not fussed if you dont add that last part up to you <3). i had really low blood pressure the other day and bad to lie on the floor for a good two hours and it really stressed me out :< anyway thanks lovie i hope youre doing well !!!!

Thanks for requesting <3

cw: mention of dizziness, nausea, worries about being alone when unwell and also being unwell in general

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’re half propped up with your elbow on a step when you hear the front door open. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello!” comes James’ chipper reply, followed by Sirius’ groan and the clunking of shoes as he no doubt kicks them off, beelining for the couch. After a moment of you not appearing to greet them, James asks, “Where are you?” 

“I’m—here.” You soften your voice when Sirius walks by the stairs, his step faltering as he locks eyes with you. 

His eyebrows bunch, concerned before he really knows why. “What’re you doing?” 

“I’m…” You shrug limply, trying on a helpless smile. Tears threaten to spill over from the way your eyes squish up. “I don’t feel right.” 

Sirius has only taken his first, slow step toward you, bemusement written across his features, before James and Remus are behind him at the base of the stairs. 

“Oh. Hi, angel.” James’ voice matches his expression, all gentleness, and worry hidden beneath counterfeit cheer. “Having a little lie down?” 

“Yeah,” you say. Sirius’ touch is a relief as he reaches you. He cups your face and feels your forehead, brows stitched together. You’re happy to be in capable hands. “I started to fall, so I just laid down here. I’m a bit dizzy.” 

There’s only so many of you that can fit on the stairs. James makes it to you next, crouching beside Sirius to take your hand in his and press his fingers to your pulse, so Remus is left peering over them both. He frowns, looking conflicted about his inability to help and worried in general. You try another smile for his sake; unfortunately, this time, the tears do spill. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” Sirius says, no real chiding in his tone as he knuckles them from your cheeks. 

“Sorry.” You force yourself to breathe, but new ones come anyway. It’s a slow sort of cry, the result of a good long while feeling sorry for yourself. “I just, I felt sick, so I tried to go upstairs to the toilet, but then I started to faint and I didn’t think I could make it back down to my phone, and I didn’t know when you would be home, or if anyone would find me…” 

“We’re here now, though, sweetheart,” Remus stops you gently. “It all worked out alright. You’re okay.” 

“Yeah.” You wipe underneath your eyes. “I think my blood pressure just dropped all of a sudden or something, but I still feel weird. It was scary.” 

“I think you’re right,” James says. He runs his thumb over your wrist. “I mean, I’d like to think it’s just because we’re home and you’re pleased to see us, but your heart’s going pretty fast, m’love. How long ago did you lie down here?” 

“I don’t know,” you reply, sniffling, feeling silly. “I don’t have my phone. Less than an hour, I think.” 

Remus hums. “That’s still a long while.” 

Honestly, you feel better just having your boyfriends here with you. Partly because of the security, of course, that you know you won’t faint and hit your head with no one to help you, but also, perhaps, there’s a small part of you that enjoys their fussing. The concerned set of Sirius’ brow, the way Remus’ mouth puckers thoughtfully, how James keeps rubbing his thumb over your wrist like he can soothe your heart back into its regular rhythm. 

“Well, then.” Sirius pats your hip, rising from his crouch. “Not much point in figuring it all out here, is there? C’mon, pretty girl, that step has to be killing your side.” 

It’s true; you think the edge of the step probably leaves an indent in your waist after you let Sirius haul you up, supporting you down the stairs and over to the couch. 

“I don’t feel as dizzy as I was expecting,” you admit. “Maybe I was overreacting.” 

“You?” Sirius exclaims, feigning astoundment. 

“Better to be safe,” says Remus. He claims a spot next to you quickly, as though seizing his opportunity. It makes your lips tug. “I’m glad you were careful, love.” 

You lean your head on his shoulder in a silent plea for coddling; he appeases you, pressing his lips to your hair while Sirius pinches the skin of your forearm gently. You watch him with mild interest. 

“When was the last time you drank water?” he asks. 

“Um…” You think back. 

Sirius lets go of your skin and tuts. “Yeah, seems like it’s been long enough for you not to remember.” 

“On it,” James announces, coming back from the kitchen with a large glass of water. He passes it to you over the back of the couch, and it’s so full a tiny bit spills over the rim onto your wrist, making you shiver. “It’s more common than you’d think for dehydration to do that to you. Gotta be careful.” 

“Yes,” says Remus drily, though his arm comes around your shoulders. “Rather easily avoidable.” 

You shrink, mumbling, “Sorry,” into your glass. 

James awws and bends over the back of the couch to plant a kiss on your head, his good cheer restored, genuinely now. “We all forget sometimes, lovie.” 

“Don’t enable her,” Sirius tells him. He cradles your arm in his hand, stroking the skin he’d pinched as though in apology for his treatment of it. “Don’t listen to him. It’s a grave oversight and you must repent forever.” 

“Forever?” Your smile still feels weak, but you’re coming back to yourself some. “How will I do that?” 

“Mm,” Sirius takes to kissing your arm instead, mumbling with a sternness that borders upon silly, “start with filling your water bottle every day before leaving the house, and at least three times after that.” 

You go quiet, gaze sliding to Remus skeptically. 

He raises an eyebrow. “What?” 

“Is that…really how much I’m supposed to have?”

His other eyebrow lifts, too. “Yes.” 

“Every day?” 

“Yes.” Remus laughs, exasperated. “Yes, that’s the water intake your body needs.” 

“There’s no way everyone’s doing that.” 

“They’re not,” James agrees. “Instead, everyone is getting dizzy and calling us so we can go pick them up from halfway up the stairs.” 

You bring the glass back to your lips, muttering, “I didn’t call, you just found me.” 

James kisses your head again, fiercely. “And we always will, lucky girl.”

[sordidmusings]

Between Two Points - Ace

Art from the doujinshi Torch by NINEKOKS

Summary: You and Ace have had a ✨thing✨for a good while now so sharing a bed wasn’t strange for you. It was, however, absolutely tormenting Ace, who couldn’t keep his mind from every time you’ve touched. You wake up to find him wanting. You thought you could keep things quick and fun but they just keep on escalating. Especially when he begs to be inside you for the first time. 

A/N: oh how Ace has haunted me, especially while writing this lol he’s one of my top favs so brain said we extra need to do him justice 👏 pretty happy with the smut but I’m most happy with the ending scene - I wanted it to be sweet and silly and so very Ace. Part of the Between Two Points series!

Warnings: nsfw, Implications of inexperience (Ace), first time together, sleepy sex (at first lol), subby Ace, he begs and thanks you like a lot, he calls you “pretty” as a pet name, praise kink both ways, emotionally fragile Ace, I didn’t mean for that to come out but he demands it, I just wanna shower him in love and validation until he Understands, until then he gets some pussy, multiple orgasms (for both yayyyyy), overstimulation on Ace, probably cumflation, definitely my obsession with men fighting not to cum, you make him suck the mess off your fingers, aftercare, silly banter to soothe the soul, fem!reader - kept it basically gn but then an old lady joke called to me at the end whoops

Word Count: 10.2k

Come get a serving of that soup ( ˘▽˘)っ♨

“If you see your daydreams in me, they'll not lack

What's been weighted in me, I'll make you quake with reason

I can feel your knees sinking into the bed

Searching in my dark eyes to break what’s been said

There’s a wake of grace, hunting your soreness down

There's a light in my skin that's been dimmed

I'mma dig you up and give you what I took

Pull you up and tuck you in and make you look

I'ma smooth your shoulders down and calm what's shook

It was all forlorn, if only for a season

Watching me is like watching a fire take your eyes from you”

“Can something like this be pulled

From under our feet?

Leaving our skin

And burning coals to meet

Tell me now

The shortest distance

Between two points

Is the line

From me to you”

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Ace still can’t believe you’re in the same bed. Every step into intimacy he’s taken with you leaves him shocked and stumbling. He’ll keep tripping after you forever though because, gods, it’s you. You’ve done a hundred and one things to impress him in emergency and battle, to take his breath away with how you decorate yourself, to make him and others watch on in awe at your skills. Though, all of that pales in comparison to the simple act of you being you. You, who wormed your way into his mind with your quirks and open-minded talks. You, who could light up his body with a simple look, a tender touch, a loving smile. You, who took hold of his heart with your patient kindness and understanding. 

You, who is currently keeping him up with the delicious turmoil of holding you so close.

This is the first time you’ve slept in the same bed. Now, you’ve done plenty of other things together, so Ace hadn’t thought that it would be such a big deal. When it hit him that he was really going to be falling asleep cuddled up to you, something so affectionate and domestic, his heart pumped an extra hard beat to wash tingles under his skin. He had thought the flush of excitement would peter off into comfort and contentment. To be fair, a part of it did. The problem is that the other part began incessantly bombarding him with thoughts of everything you could be doing in the bed besides sleeping.

His past experience with you is only making it harder where he thought it would ease his nerves at being close. The sweet or heated kisses you’d grab him to steal only make his lips lonely at their memory. The spark in your eyes as your kisses move southward haunts him and keeps his dick twitching pathetically against your thigh. The echoes of times he got to be the one with his head between your legs, smothering himself in the heady taste and smell of you, has him biting back whimpers. Fuck, he’s aching and flushed and desperate and all you’re doing is sleeping in his arms. He feels guilt creep in.

This should be enough. He shouldn’t be laying here wishing for more of you while you’re already so sweetly snuggling into his chest, offering him trust and affection. Holding you while you’re at your most vulnerable should sate him. Feeling how soft and warm you are with your weight sinking the two of you together should ease him to rest. Yet his mind keeps reminding him of the last time your weight was pressing on him, leaving him equal parts wound up and embarrassed.

As usual, you had been tapped right into when he needed you to escalate things but felt he didn’t have the right to ask. All day he’d been hovering around you, a hand always on arm or shoulder and eyes always ready to jump to you. He was chasing at your heels when you waved for him to follow you so you could settle him with some attention. He was pawing at you the moment your lips touched, moaning at the first rub of tongues, grinding right when you pressed deeper into him. 

Soon he was on the floor with you on his lap, your palms pressing your weight into his heaving chest and your hips working him over. He flushed an even deeper shade of pink when you told him how pretty he looks. The thought of it has his cock jumping even now, and he struggles to keep from grinding up into your lower stomach. He can feel a hint of your mound at the base of his cock, begging him to press harder to tease himself with your plush heat and the firmness of your pelvis underneath. Knowing your clit was hiding right there against him - in easy reach for him to make you squirm with pleasure, make such pretty pretty noises, think of nothing else but how good he’s making you feel - chips away at his resolve. 

The memory continues with the feeling of his fingers sinking into the meat of your hips, caught between pulling you faster and shoving you off because he felt all too close to his end for a grown man who hasn’t even gotten his pants off yet. You were even still fully clothed but didn’t seem to pay that any mind as you circled and ground yourself on the hard cock trapped in his pants. Even with the layers, he felt how hot your cunt was getting, burning even more against him than your mouth when it took to painting a path through his freckles from cheeks to chest. When you took breaks to grind slowly over him, he felt the little moment where your hips slid before your clothes followed, delayed by you slipping through your own wetness first. His eyes rolled back at the fact that using him got you soaked and that out of everyone you chose him to sit your drooling pussy on.

With that thought and his grinds chasing you back, he felt his balls pull taught and his cock pound dangerously.

No, fuck, he hasn’t even made you cum - his clothes, fuck, he’s still in his clothes you, can’t see him cum in his pants like some pathetic boy, no nonono-

“Please,” Ace gasped out, using all his will power to still his hips and keep them pressed to the ground, “I’m- I’m too- please -hhah- you’re just so- fuck! Please, baby.” He was panting the words between moans, trying to find enough strength to hold your hips still. “Just s-slow down, I’m -nnnngh-” You just smiled devilishly down at him and kept picking up the pace. He grit his teeth and arched his head back, “I’m so fucking close- ah!”

He hides his face in the pillows and your hair even as the praises you had showered him in echo in his ears while he holds your sleeping body. His own painfully awake body shivers while he thinks of how hard he came, how each pump had felt like overwhelming bliss trapped against your heat and to the tune of your voice. It has him grinding against you before he can even think and sighing out in relief at a little bit of the touch he needs.

“Ace?”

Your sleepy mumble makes him freeze, every muscle taught like he grabbed a live wire.

“Why are you awake, honey?” The genuine concern in your sleep-thick voice only makes him feel worse. You try to lift your face from his chest, but a hand on the back of your head traps you there. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he swallows, hoping to trap the stutter back down. “Don’t worry - go back to sleep.”

He places a gentle kiss to the top of your head and scratches your scalp to try and settle you. It works for a moment and he relishes in the feel of your body relaxing back against him. That is, until you shift to the side and snuggle deeper. Your thigh brushes his obvious hard on and you both tense. He panics when he feels your eyelashes tickle his chest, letting him know your eyes flew open wide.

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh, he thinks miserably. He’s confused when he feels you smile against his skin.

“Ace, honey, are you enjoying sleeping with me?” Even with the sleepy tone, you manage to get a lot of smug teasing in your voice.

“Yes?” That wasn’t meant to be a question.

“You sure?” you prod. “You seem awful tense.” 

You emphasize the last word with a firm press and rub of your thigh against his aching erection. His whole body shivers and a high sigh escapes him. His hands grasp you at hip and shoulder and he’s struck with the déjà vu of not knowing whether to drag you closer or make you stop. 

You’re having no such struggle, happy to find him a wanting mess. You’ll never get over seeing the confident and playful air he parades around with slipping off to reveal something fragile and seeking when you touch him. Sure, he won you initially with that part of him, charming you to his side like every other moth drawn to his inherent light, trapping you there with all the others under his protection and love. Knowing what pieces can lie under that blaze only makes the show more fun to watch. Knowing someone so powerful, so magnetic, feels the same way for you? Shows you places they’re scared to let others see? It’s your greatest rush and most cherished responsibility.

“You’re perfect, honey,” you praise. He just barely bites back a whimper. “Did you know I was dreaming about you?”

“You were?” Ace sounds much more disbelieving than you’d like.

“Mhmm, I do it often.” Your voice softens with honesty. “You’re always on my mind.”

There’s a slight tremble to Ace’s hold on you. He wants to say something, anything, but his throat has closed too tight for words to pass. 

“I can prove it to you,” the flirtatious heat to your voice eases the fragile vulnerability away. Ace is yet again thankful for your sixth sense when it comes to his needs. Your thigh creeping its way over his leg and hips helps distract him from the pressure behind his eyes. You settle your leg when it’s resting centered on his sensitive head. The weight of your soft thigh easing down on him forces a shaky “hh-ah!” from him and he feels his face flush in embarrassment and need. You reward the sound with a kiss to his pec.

“Well?” you whisper. “Are you gonna check?”

“Huh?” Ace’s blood is all in the wrong head for him to understand anything but praise and orders. You giggle at him and it makes his dick jump against your thigh.

Taking mercy on him, you grab the hand that’s planted on your hip. Slowly, you lead it to the swell of your ass and press his large hand to grip at you. He does so eagerly, playing with the pliant flesh filling his warm hold. Your sleep shorts are thin, letting him feel you easily despite the barrier. He can’t resist the instinct to pull and spread you open. You hum happily at the feeling, arching into it. Ace blows out a tense breath, bedding his cheek into the top of your head and canting his hips up ever so slightly.

“So good, sweetheart,” you sigh. He squeezes down and turns his face to find comfort in the smell of your hair. “Let me show you.”

You urge his hand a little lower, right to the hem of your shorts. You only stop when his fingertips slip under and tickle the skin right beside the swell of your lips. You want him to decide this on his own. He teases the elastic for a moment before trailing the pad of his finger over your underwear right where the seam of your pussy is, starting from your entrance up to your clit and back. Another content hum leaves you, encouraging him, and he swivels his hand to cup your heat. He shivers at the hot breath curling over his chest, and his head swirls happily when you arch your hips up to push your cunt deeper into his palm. 

This time it’s your own hand gripping your ass to spread you open for him. You arch and nudge into his hold more, unintentionally grinding over his cock in your writhing. His fingers twitch, teasing your clit, sparking it to life and leaving you wanting. He’s having trouble keeping himself tempered instead of writhing when he can feel the dampness of your underwear and how they slide messily between his palm and your pussy. He wants it coating his fingers, smeared on his lips, maybe one day he can feel it soaking his cock- 

“Touch me,” you whine impatiently.

Hasty fingers push under the band of your underwear and slip between your folds.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Ace moans. His voice is low in his chest but softened by his breathlessness. He takes his time petting around your entrance and enjoying the feeling of your lips slipping to encase his fingers when he flattens them out to reach your clit.

“Told you I was dreaming about you,” you mumble happily. Even though your body is heated and tingling, you’ve still got the weight of sleep pulling at you, leaving you in a content mix of dreaminess and pleasure. You relax further into Ace, happy to let him touch you as he likes in that tentative, worshipping way of his. It’s that endearing contrast to the brash and confident way he presents himself and fights. He always starts touching you like it’s an honor he doesn’t deserve, something he needs to take slowly lest he scare you off or never get the chance again. Even though you love the treatment, it breaks your heart that he thinks he’s so below you as to not deserve to touch you, let alone receive your affection.

The tip of a finger presses at your entrance, just enough to have the pad sink in. You swivel your hips to urge him further and moan when he listens to your plea. Ace moans with you, always amazed at your tight heat. It welcomes him easily despite gripping down snugly on his skin. He pulls his digit out with a curl, shivering when your muscles clamp back against him. You sigh his name in that dreamy way that makes him feel special, and he can’t help but add another finger and sink them in deep. Even though he’s in to the last knuckle, you shove your face down into his chest and your ass into the air to try and suck him in deeper. He rewards you by petting at your walls, drawing more pleasurable twitches from your cunt.

“More,” you whine. It’s half demand and half complaint and all turning his brain to mush. How quickly you are winding into desperation is only making his own need grow. He needs to hear more from you, he needs you to fix the burning under his skin, he needs fuck himself into a place so deep in you that you can never be rid of him.

“Need to be inside you,” Ace groans before he can think about the words. “Please, pretty baby, you feel too good-” he swallows thickly when you hungrily grind back onto his massaging fingers, “fuck -hah- need to know-” he can’t finish his sentence because you’ve snuck your hand down to palm his erection and stroke him in time with your thrusting hips.

“Think you’re ready to fuck me?” you ask. You meant to check in and make sure he was emotionally ready, but your breaths rushing out of you made it sound harsh.

“Please,” he begs, voice broken, holding you tight with his free hand, “I’ll make you feel so good- promise, promise.”

“I’m just worried-”

“It’ll be okay,” he promises immediately, “just a quick feel, you don’t even have to let me fuck you- just gotta feel you on my cock at least once.” He tries to win your favor by using his free hand to tease your clit.

“Ace,” you gasp. It’s hard to slow him down when he’s winding your body up so well. With a quick jerk, he shifts you up his body, giving him better leverage to work you on his fingers. It lands your face in the pillow next to his and he takes the opportunity to suck open mouthed kisses across your neck. You mean to talk to him and get a hold on how frantic he’s getting, but all you can do is let out muffled moans into soft cotton. 

“I’ll be good,” Ace whispers against the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and humid and gets you one step closer to an orgasm lighting you on fire. “I’ll make you cum until you can’t worry anymore.” The fingers tweaking your clit and prodding your firming walls give weight to his promise. Your hips are already starting to stiffen and twitch with the oncoming climax. “I’ll keep begging, I’ll worship you, anything you want, just, fuck-” his voice breaks before he can stop it. “Please let me feel you.”

Ace feels like he can’t get enough air; he won’t be able to breathe if you pull away - he’s sure he’ll suffocate without you. His whole body is pulsing and alive with urgency, not just the cock straining against his pants. The only thing that’s keeping him grounded is you. Your pretty moans slipping out, half-covered by the pillow. Your searching hands, grasping and working his body over in search of something to hold on to. Your chest blanketing his own, ebbing and flowing in waves with your heavy breathing pressing into him. Most of all, the slick, plush grip of your cunt around his fingers, singing to him in little wet slaps every time it welcomes his fingers back home.

“Ace, I’m-” you turn your head towards him so he can hear and find him already looking at you. His flush is deep enough to try and hide his freckles and his pupils are blown enough to turn his brown eyes black. His slack jaw lets your breaths mingle. The pressure of his fingers on your clit increases just the slightest bit, but it’s just right to get your body to clamp down and not let go. “I’m so close, gonna cum, please, love-” Ace sobs out a moan at the new pet name and presses the fingers inside you even more insistently “ahhn! Don’t stop, don’t stop, gonna-”

You suck in a greedy breath and it’s trapped in your lungs as your body starts to seize up. The hit of pleasure has you curling as close as you can into Ace, needing to clutch him when the first wave crests heavily. His fingers follow you when you squirm to center fully on top of him, soothing you through the ride with gentle pumps into your twitching walls. You breathe again after a moment, letting out a flurry of praise into Ace’s shoulder. The little shakes of your hips make you rub against his trapped cock and his eyes roll back against his wish to keep watching you. 

The way your pussy clamps down on his fingers is absolute torture. Pressed so close with his eyes shut, he can almost imagine the rhythmic waves of your spasming cunt milking him while he fucks you full of cum. It has him panting along beside you like he was the one who just came. 

You’re easing down from your high, swollen walls settled along his now unmoving fingers. The sound of your panting settles with you and the room starts to still into a cozy calmness. Your muscles feel liquid and uncooperative as you try to adjust into a comfier position. The movement yet again rubs you against Ace and he whimpers at the heavy gush of precum it pulls from him.

With a pained sound, Ace wiggles the hand that had been toying with your clit out from under your hips and past his sensitive cock to draw shapes on your back. The action brings the smell of sex closer up to his face and he can’t help but groan. Fuck, he doesn’t want to push you or bother you, but the high of seeing you cum has passed and left him even more wanting.

“Pretty?” Ace starts softly. He kisses at your temple and you hum in reply. “...please?”

You hum again, only half hearing him between the orgasm taking the wind out of your sails and that wind having only been a small gust in the first place given it was somewhere around the witching hour.

“I still need you,” he urges, pressing his hips up gently for some miniscule relief and to make you understand. He’s scalding hot below you and throbbing into your lower stomach and it starts to bring you some clarity.

“While I’d love to continue, I’m tired,” you sigh. Before he can apologize or take it the wrong way, you continue. “Normally that wouldn’t really be a problem, but I want to be bright eyed and bushy tailed the first time I fuck you.” Even with the casual way you’re talking, Ace sighs happily and pulls you tighter at the idea. Before you can think about how you’re about to contradict your words, your mouth moves and you’re back to riling him. “I’ve thought of our first time together a lot, and I’m going to treat you to much more than some sleepy sex.” He shivers and moves back to mouthing at your neck at the promise. “I want you sitting pretty under me while I show you everything I can do to you.”

“But I’m under you now,” Ace argues.

“You are, and you’re doing so good at the looking pretty thing too,” you sigh in mock defeat. You feel him smile against your neck, both from the praise and from gaining some ground. Gotta get that idea back out of his head. “I don’t wanna leave you hanging, but I want to do more for you the first time you’re inside me.”

Ace doesn’t share that worry. He’s more worried about using his free hand to start guiding your hips in slow circles to feel the motion around the fingers still sitting inside you. It also teases his still leaking cock and makes it painfully easy to imagine the sensation blending so his cock feels the circles and the grip of your cunt. It flutters on his digits and he flexes his hand to feel the twitching muscles better, putting pressure towards your lower stomach. You keen at the burn it sets in your nerves, arching against his hand to feel more. Shoved so snuggly into your body, Ace’s fingers pick up the thump of your racing heart beating behind the walls of your pussy. He’s never needed anything more than he needs to feel it tapping against the racing pulse of his own heart pulsing through his cock.

“Please, pretty, please please ple-hease” he begs again, beyond reason. “What if- what if we don’t fuck? What if you just let me inside you to keep me warm?”

The idea is quite tempting. You kiss at the side of his face, giving yourself time to enjoy the fantasy of cockwarming him. It’s one you’ve come back to many times in your daydreams of him. Still, you want to fuck the sanity out of him the first time he’s inside you.

“Ace, no-”

“Just the tip.” The words are rushed and breathless and broken. “What if it’s just the tip?”

You realize there’s no reasoning with him and you’re losing the want to try. It’s not like you haven’t been wanting to fuck him since lust rode in on the coattails of “wow he’s pretty and so sweet”. He’s not the only one hiding insecurities though, and you frequently fear that if you don’t keep up the trend of blowing his mind with all the physical stuff then he’ll get bored of you. You can’t accept your first time together being anything less than perfect; the very idea fills you with dread, so much so that the potent temptation of Ace writhing and begging and even just his fingers making you feel so fucking good hasn’t shaken it off you.

“I can’t-” Ace swallows hard, “I can’t just keep dreaming about it, please, fuck, pretty, I need you.”

You believe him. You’ve never heard him so lost before in all your times fooling around. He’s prone to his tongue loosening the longer you touch and this is far from the first time he’s pleaded with you, but this felt different. There’s a frantic undertone to his voice and the words spilling from his lips. There’s truth to the emotion turning his grasp into a delicious mix of powerful and trembling. There’s no arguing with the twitching length grinding into your lower stomach - no way you can deny how hard he feels or the heat of it burning against you even through your clothes. It’s enough to make you lose yourself to the thought of getting to clamp down around his firm cock while the length finds places to toy with much deeper than you can reach. You can tell from the shape against you his width would press back at every nerve you’ve got, waking them up and making them sing. 

You come back to reality when he sneaks in a deep thrust of his fingers. The wet sound makes him moan, and the responding clench turns it into a deep, throaty “fuck”. His head flies back as he arches and grinds. You look up from the pillow and see his pretty black waves piling next to the sharp cut of his jaw. The bob of his throat as he swallows matches the jump of his cock. You feel every detail of it and notice he’s leaked enough to soak through his shorts and your shirt, leaving a sticky spot against your skin.

“You make me feel so good,” Ace moans. “I can make you feel good too.”

The fact that he thinks he needs to convince you of that even with his fingers stuffed in you, held tight with how your cunt’s swelled from pleasure, proves he’s very far from rational thought.

“You did,” you promise with a sweet kiss to his neck. “Now it’s your turn.” His head shoots up to give you a hopeful look. “You’ve cum from less, isn’t this enough?” You swirl your hips down against him to illustrate your point.

“It’s not about cumming,” he grumbles, suddenly sounding a bit more coherent and honestly a bit offended. “I wanna be closer.”

That throws you so off guard you just spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

“We could take off our clothes?”

Ace doesn’t give you time to take it back, his hands flying from you and already shoving his shorts down his thighs. He sighs in relief when his cock springs free, and nudges his head into yours mindlessly in relieved affection. Too impatient to finish the task, he stops pushing his shorts while they’re halfway down to instead get his hands under your shirt. You go to finish what he started but get distracted taking handfuls of his waist and thighs. When you thumb at the descending line of his adonis belt, Ace can do nothing but press into your touch, even pausing his mission to get under your clothes.

You lay yourself back on Ace, now trapping his dick between his twitching abs and the soft skin of your stomach and the tease of trimmed hair on your mound. Somewhere in his brain he thinks he should be ashamed of how he’s an absolute mess from something so simple as feeling your skin on his cock. At the moment, the shame is overshadowed by sheer need and awe. This is you - he’s dreamed of this, agonized over it, sat drowning in a mind and body desperate to find a way to get you to look at him, let alone touch him. Even when you started pulling him with you for teasing tastes on top of your shared missions together, all the time between had them feeling fake. Getting to have you feels so foreign and unattainable that his brain writes it off as false memories when you aren’t in his hands. 

And that’s why he holds you all the more tightly when you’re in reach. He needs you cemented in his grip and sunk into every sense so you’re all he knows. No questions, no doubts, no loneliness, no hollowness, just the comfort of you. He gets his lips back on yours before he breaks.

You hook your thumbs into your shorts and underwear but it’s not quick enough for Ace. He grabs them in a tight fistful and yanks. Your spread thighs keep them from getting lower than the end of your ass and Ace whines into your mouth. Trying not to break the kiss, you lean onto your right leg and try to work the other out of your clothing. It’s a clumsy and messy affair, each of you using a hand to tug at the garments while the other is busy trying to feel and hold as much of each other as possible. You lean back to look and finally get the damn thing off and Ace chases you the whole way. Between the hot slide of tongue, the nipping on lips, and the dancing rolls of kiss and grind you manage to get your left leg completely free of clothing.

“Fuck, pretty, how -hhh-ah!- do you do that?” Ace moans breathlessly after you set your hips back on him.

“Do what?” You’re moving your clit up and down his shaft in torturously slow grinds, mind fuzzed with the feeling of your wetness making you glide so smoothly on him.

“Make me -mmnngh!- fuck-” You circle your clit around his sensitive head, turning his speech into a few heaving breaths and groans. “Make me forget everything.”

Your lips are back on his in a rush, too fast for you to get out all the loving words living in you. First it’s as insistent and firm as your hips are working him over. After a long minute though, he’s lost too much breath to do much more than pant and hump into you in a desperate chase to feel more and more. You begin laying quick kisses to his cheek and land one in the shape of a smile on the corner of his open mouth. You feel it curl up under the press of your lips. 

“You m-make me happy,” Ace admits, a twinge of nerves managing to show through all the arousal in his voice. You bump your nose to his gently. 

“You’re my happiness, Ace.”

He whines and screws his eyes shut even more tightly. You feel his cock throb heavily against you. Taking advantage, you change to little circles against him and feel the pressure of it tease at your clit and entrance. A hand snakes into your hair and grips, holding you steady to press your foreheads together. His eyes crack open to search yours for lies. Even in the rush of your grinding bodies, the eye contact is still and sturdy as steel.

“You can’t just say that,” Ace breathes.

You feel how close he is, even harder than before and thrusts getting stilted in an attempt not to cum. You set on that singlemindedly, needing to hear his breathy broken moans, feel him squirm and jerk, shove him straight into a headspace empty of all but bliss. You get your own hand in his hair and tug, earning a moan and more pleads. Busying your mouth with his neck, you begin sliding along his whole length at a quick pace. The burn in your thighs is nothing compared to the pressure building between your hips, getting tighter and brighter with every swipe.

“No, holy shit, so close, s’close -hah hahngg-“ Ace starts babbling, “wanna cum in you, I’ll do anything, I’ll -mnnngh- anything please, fuck, too good, so fucking wet, so -fuck- can’t, please no, no ‘m gonna cum-“

You suck and teethe at the sensitive spot behind his ear and twist your grip in his hair, sure that would throw him over. Instead he lunges forward to sink his teeth into your shoulder and his hands clamp onto your hips to hold them perfectly still. You’re reminded of the power in the man who falls apart for you. It makes you clench and gush against him with a throaty moan. He holds on for dear life through it, tensing and throbbing and leaking and just barely managing to hold off his orgasm.

Once he’s sure he’s relatively safe, he lets go of your shoulder and begins kissing over the slight indents. The gentle touch feels electric on the tender skin. He continues to hold your hips prisoner, imobile against his own. After some deep breaths he pulls back to look at you. 

“I don’t want it to ever stop,” his eyes are shiny and his lips tremble, but not as much as his words. “Please.” That commanding grip lightens. He slides his hands so he can massage his thumbs into the creases where your thighs meet your hips, sending sparks under your skin. “Just a little of you.”

Your resolve finally breaks and you agree. “Just the tip.”

“Thank you,” Ace rushes out. “Remind me to take you out and spoil you.”

You huff out a laugh even though you’re pretty sure he’s serious. 

“As if you don’t try already.” 

You shimmy forward and he rights you into his grip again; getting you on him with as much skin to skin as possible, just where you belong. It makes maneuvering a bit more difficult but neither of you care; you’re too busy enjoying each other’s heat and taste.

“No goofing, just romance.”

His arms encase you while yours frame him, taking time to touch skin and play with his fluffy hair. You’re firmly settled against him, laying with your cunt just in reach of his leaking head. Each breath presses you deeper into each other and lets pressure tease at your breasts. You take a moment to sneak fingers to your sides so you can tweak his nipple. The shocked hiss is one of your favorites. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” You reach back to grab hold of him and give him a few firm strokes, just to hear his pretty gasps. “The gentleman act isn’t as fun without the goofy contrast.”

“It’s not an a-aahhhhhhnn-“ You use your grip on him to circle his head on your entrance and press back just enough for the weeping tip to catch. After drawing out the sensation for a few more breaths, you move to sit up for a better angle to give him a shallow ride, but he stops you.

“Stay.” Even though it’s an order it sounds like a plea. At your confused look he continues, “If you stay like this I won’t be able to start fucking you if I lose myself.”

He feels you clench against his cockhead and it twitches in response, desperate to sink just a little deeper and letting you know with a pressure that hovers just under enough to finally slip into you. He knows “if” was too weak a word; the moment he feels the plush heat of your cunt he’s a goner. He’s had ambition and determination and stubbornness woven through parts of his being since his first breath. Yet they all fail him when he aims them at restraint here. Staring down a warlord was easier than fighting his bone deep desire for you. You just have a way of making him feel so full of life that it circles back around to an endless emptiness unless he’s smothered in your presence. Like any addict, the starting hits were no longer enough and he’d chase bigger and bigger ones til he had the endless high of being always near and always yours. His body being newer to such waves makes it easier for his instincts to take over him when more becomes not enough.

You feel the slick skin of his tip licking at your entrance with each breath you both take, so focused on every little motion you swear you can feel his heartbeat against your cunt. You start pressing back more.

“Wait,” Ace gasps. He plans a hand at the back of your head and turns it to face him. You meet blown pupils in shiny eyes, brows fighting not to pinch, freckles dancing with every word and expression. His warm breath tickles your swollen lips and you can taste its sweetness on your tongue. You want to keep looking around his pretty face but his pleading eyes have you locked in their heat. “Look at me.”

You barely think to give him a shaky nod. 

Ace reaches his other hand down to join yours on his shaft. It slips easily around your grip and holds gently, letting you keep control. Your hand feels so hot between his large one and the beating cock in your palm. Testing his grip, you slowly pump down his shaft, a slick sound from the dripping of your cunt and his precum sliding through your fingers, and make your way back up to the tip with a twisting wrist. His hand trembles around yours and he curses against your lips but he simply follows your movements.

Happy with the reaction, you continue on. He begins sinking in and his brows furrow further. The slow pace lets him feel every bit of texture, every flutter of the muscles of your entrance as they greet him. He’s in enough for you to encase his slit and you both feel the reward of a thick gush of precum spilling right into you. You breath out a syrupy “so good” and Ace fights again not to cum again - it gives him visions of fucking you fast and deep until you’re hiccuping those words and he’s pumping you full for real. He doesn’t want to be hasty though, he might miss a single second of this blissful torture.

His dick is pressed in to a catch, hovered right where his head flares widest. You hold him steady and give a little circle of your hips to feel him play with your stretching entrance.

“-hah- holy o-oh -nnnngh- thank you thank you,” he mumbles and moans between trying to breathe. His eyes roll back and screw shut for a moment before he fights them back open to watch your hazy eyes and slack jaw. He pulls you forward by the hand in your hair to press your foreheads together. Those fingers begin a haphazard massage as they switch between grasping for grounding and petting at you in adoration.

You take in a lungful of his breath and his musk and the ambient sex and shimmy just a little lower. At last, your cunt gives to let the rim of his head pop in, finally warming you from the inside. It immediately has you clench down and you can’t help but moan pathetically at finally having something to clench down on. The burning skin of his cockhead presses back at the twitching walls of your cunt, sending jolts up your spine.

“Y-you -ahh- you’re so-“ Ace is struggling against his scattered mind and an ocean of oxytocin to get you to understand how perfect you are and how his chest is so full it aches and how he’d fight through pirates, marines, the whole world government just to be this close to you again. All that comes out is a grumbling, fervent moan of “warm”.

You clench again at the word and he whimpers. You slip your hand off of his cock and out of his grip before using it to make him hold his cock for you. It gets the sticky mess all over him, which he quickly uses to twist his hand slowly up and down his shaft. You follow the movement for a few pumps then bring your hand up to your faces. You’d wanted a taste but you get a better idea. 

The moment the pads of your fingers touch Ace’s lips, he opens them just a bit wider for you. He can smell the heady mix of you both and his mouth waters eagerly. Slowly and deliberately, you sneak two fingers past his lips and press them on his tongue, his eyes burning into you the whole time. He’s quick to seal his lips and suck, hot tongue roving over your digits to collect every drop. You can hear the wet sound of his working hand get faster. You shove your fingers in to the last knuckle and he swallows them down greedily, moaning the whole time.

It’s impossible to keep yourself still; the fucked out look on Ace’s flushed face and the attention feeding but not sating your cunt make you squirm. All the movement from his jerking, constantly getting faster and firmer, has his cockhead massaging every nerve of your entrance and reverberated through your lips and clit, sinfully delicious yet maddeningly subtle. Your body is begging for him to force his way deep, split you around his thick cock, feel that pounding drag against every inch of your swollen and pulsing pussy. Instead, you have to settle for a slow tilt and pull of your hips, guiding the head sitting heavy in you to press more one way then the next. One particularly hard pump of his hand sends a strong shock to your clit and you grip him with your hands as tightly as your core wrings down around him. A heavy throb of his cock gushes more precum into you. 

Hearing how much he’s struggling to breathe fast enough through his nose, you pull your fingers from his mouth to instead pull at his hair. He’s mumbling out curses and praises between frantic kisses around your lips. The battle to stare into your eyes is becoming lost; Ace’s won’t stop rolling back and fluttering closed and losing focus. You can practically taste how close he is and it sets your whole body alight. You’re sure when he cums you’ll be able to feel the pleasure in your own body.

“Ace,” you call and his eyes crack open to see you again. His lashes are so dark and long and make his eyes look all the darker. “Need to feel you cum.” The words are rushed and urgent, trying to sneak around gasps and moans. “Love, I want you t-to -mnnn!- fuck me full.”

“Fuck!” The word “love” echoes violently around Ace’s head, and he’s so wound up and frayed he’s scared he may actually catch fire. His scramble is immediate - hands flying down to clamp onto your hips, fingers sinking deep into your skin, head thrown back giving you a full view of the flush hiding his freckles, the strong jaw working between going slack and gritting his teeth, but most importantly his hips thrust against his will. A mindless,  ravenous instinct locked in place and told him to rut until neither of you could move, until each thrust wrung more cum from him only to have it gush out of you because how could you possibly hold more?

Unfortunately, Ace had planned ahead. Your precarious alignment lets the first few thrusts sink him just a centimeter deeper, the relief of more of you only matched by the insatiable need to have all of you. Just when he feels the knot of pleasure pull his balls taught and tense his cock hard as a rod, a thrust knocks him loose.

Ace lets out an actual wail as he loses your heat. The bliss of his orgasm gets lost with it, ebbing away quickly and leaving him frantic.

“No fuck I- please I was so close, shit-,” Ace sobs right by your ear where he’s nestled himself close for comfort.

Needing to calm him and missing the feeling of him too terribly, your hand goes back to his cock while you distract him with sloppy open mouthed kisses. You find him easily and try to settle him with a few firm pumps. Ace is relieved as the feeling comes back fast and he’s already tensing and squirming and curling his toes as his orgasm beats to life in his cock again. 

 “That’s it, love,” you encourage. “I’ve got you.”

“Can’t, cumming cummingcumming-“ Ace chants urgently, kicked straight over the edge by your care. You rush to get him back inside you first but his cock’s already kicking in your grip. The first spray of cum lands where your thigh meets your ass and the second splashes over your pussy. By the third you’re pressing him back in. The whole time Ace is moaning high and gasping and pulling you to him like he needs you to breathe. He’s squirming and handsy, back arching off the bed while he takes any handful of you he can get. You feel the heavy pump of his next spurt of cum and fall to instinct yourself. You push your body down his and plop the weight of your hips in his lap, taking him in one swift motion and a heavy slap.

“Yes! Y-ye-nnnghah!- yesss thank you thank you two good so good s’good-“

You grind yourself in a heavy drag, forward and back, relishing having him all the way inside you. He feels thick enough to press your hips wide and long enough to punch at your lungs. Each grind has him play with your insides, lighting every nerve to make you feel like he’s filled you from head to toe. Each grind also has a fresh throb press at your cunt and spurt more sticky cum where his head twitches against your deepest spots. It has an unfamiliar pit swallowing the orgasm that’s nearly formed in your core, filling your nerves with a new life. You pick up the pace, needing more of that deep seated burn you can feel with each rub of him in the pit of your gut.

Ace whines as his sensitive cock has less and less to give yet keeps up its pumping. He’s beside himself, feels completely out of control of his muscles and voice as he grinds and moans and pleads, yet somehow his hands help press your hips harder into his, adding strength to your ride with every push and pull. He’s left slack jawed at the feeling, mouth hung open to let out every humid pant and desperate sound. He can feel your thighs clamp up around his hips, your fingers claw frantically at his chest, your hips begin to shake and jump. Most of all he can feel the coming orgasm sink into the muscles of your cunt as they swell and twitch and begin to clamp down on him like a vice. 

“Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop-“ now you’re chanting to him and he feels a new rush flow through his body. The ending orgasm is replaced with new interest amid the burning haze of overstimulation. Every fiber in him knows that he just needs to make you cum and he’ll know what heaven is like.

Ace sits up quickly to meet you, detouring to mouth over your swaying chest and enjoy a taste of your perked nipples before he gets some space to watch your blissed out face and writhing body. He begins thumbing at your clit while his other hand urges your hips up a few inches. For a moment you keep your hips moving but they freeze when Ace plants the hand that was on them behind him and his feet on the mattress and he starts to fuck up into you. They’re shallow, staccato slaps of his hips into yours, sloppily pushing his cum out of you to make stickier sounds, sending vibrations rattling through the underside of your clit still pressed under his thumb, and it’s exactly everything you ever needed. 

The deep pit his fat cockhead taps at again and again pulls taught until your whole cunt squeezes and then you feel like you burst. A breath you didn’t know you were holding rushes out of you with a holler of his name and you curl forward to cling to him. You try and ride out the high as it seizes you, shaking through your hips and legs and tightening its fist around your whole core. You don’t remember an orgasm ever massaging through you like this before - pulling heavy waves of clamp and release from your cervix to your entrance, each one making Ace’s cock feel even bigger and the pressure of that cock forcing you to stay open makes you nerves sing and dance tingles through your clit and up your spine and under your skin. 

You’re not the only one stuck at it’s mercy; Ace’s head is empty of all but the way the sensation ravages through his nervous system, taking his body from him and commanding it to hold you closer, harder, to fuck you faster, firmer. He knows his mouth is moving, but he’s not sure what it’s saying. His head is full of curses and wonder and “thank you”s and “love you”s but he has no clue what’s making it past. The only things he seems to hear are the roaring of his blood in his ears and the stream of praise tumbling from your lips. You gasp out, “Ace! Fuck, you’re so -hahn- perfect”, and he sears it in his brain forever. The way you pray your pleasure to him, bleed his name and “love” together as if they’re the same thing, it has his head spinning and his heart swelling and cock burning.

The pulses of your high get further apart so you force will into your legs and bounce with Ace to chase them. After a few though, his feet slip out straight and both hands are back on your hips to guide your thrusts and hold you tight. He’s kissing down the side of your face then hiding himself in the crook of your neck, where he can switch between kissing the taste of salt off your skin and huffing in lungfuls of the scent of your hair and skin and sweat and sex. He can taste his bliss on every moan he chokes out, can feel it throb closer with every clap of your hips he just clap needs a little more, needs the way clap your fingers tug his hair clap yes just like that and clap fuck, the way your pussy clap sucks him in clap so so close, just-

“Fuck, Ace, can’t breathe -hahnngh- too much, don’t let it stop -ah!- please, need you-“ 

He whimpers and crushes you in his hold, forcing you to sit still with him pressed as deep as he can go so he can feel every inch of you while he cums again. The first wave hits and he surges forward when his abs clamp tight, knees pulling up behind you to fully surround you. 

“Again?” You manage to gasp against his cheek.

“Yes,” he whines, “you’re just- fuck, fuck!”

It’s near painful to cum so hard so quickly after the last. His head is murky and floating at the strange sensation of the orgasm tearing through his muscles to make him grind and pump into you without having anything to gush out. Your body still seems happy enough with the offering though, completely in sync to milk out everything he could possibly give. 

It’s the perfect end to your high to be in your body enough to take in every bit of his high moans and mumbling and feel every bit of touch his instincts have him showering over you. He keeps nosing at your neck for comfort and tickling the sensitive skin there with kisses and words spoken right against your skin. His hands are deeply kneading the flesh of your hips, petting in trembling fingers and always pulling to keep your hips flush to his. His abs tense and jump, both with his stuttering breath and with the strong pulls of his dick every time it tries to force more out of him in a soul-deep need to fill you with him until he’s a permanent piece of you. His thighs are doing much the same, jostling you slightly against him from how he’s curled around you. Yes, this is exactly what you needed to cap your high and ease you back into reality. Especially with that deep voice of his showing off its range.

“Thank you, thank -nnngh- you, wanna be this close forever -ahhh- never -mm!- stop feeling you, love this, l-love y-y-hah!”

You guide him the whole time, petting his hair, kissing his temple, teasing his skin with your nails, and holding his back. The way he clings to you sets you ablaze but also lets you know how desperately he needs to feel held. His firm hold and your returning squeezes are the anchor that secures you both through the torrent and the drop from sharing bodies. Because of the affection, that drop is a landing in pure comfort and relaxation. Your muscles are all becoming liquid and you simply melt into each other and breathe. 

Ace may have never finished that thought out loud, but he continued it in the affection of his lips pressing so tenderly to your heated skin. He made it clear in the reverence of his hold on you, full of trailing fingertips worshipping your shape and gentle squeezes closer with warm and supportive palms. You understood from the cozy sway he set while drawing his temple up the side of your face to then skim the tip of his nose over your cheek and rest your foreheads together then find stillness. All the words he didn’t say came through in your shared breaths, which grew from humid puffs to a slow and smooth rhythm.

Just in case you missed the rest, he brushed his lips across yours, light enough to tickle before easing forward to mold them together. Your lips part to taste him once more and he indulges you, happily slipping his tongue between your lips for another dance. It’s unhurried how you kiss, lips firm and sure in how they press and drag together, tongues brushing slowly not to arouse but to simply enjoy. The slick sounds of the deep kisses ring in your ears in the quiet room along with the hushes of breath slipping between you two. Ace pulls in one particularly deep breath through his nose before breaking the kiss to sigh his happiness out. The whole thing is punctuated by one last sweet peck.

“I feel it too, Ace,” you promise.

His voice is thick when he whispers out once more, “Thank you.”

You rest your head on his shoulder and press a smile to his skin. Ace tilts his head just so to rest it on yours and closes his eyes to simply be. You’re not sure how long you stay sat in his lap holding him. Instead of the tick of a clock you have the swell of his breaths and the brush of his thumb. Now and again he’d start and leave a subtle sway or press kisses to your hair or squeeze you just a little tighter. You’d respond to it all in kind but his favorite was when he could feel a smile press your cheek into his collarbone or when you’d rest your hand over his pec just to better feel his heartbeat. 

Unfortunately, soreness begins to set in your hips and you have to move. Ace isn’t a big fan of the idea; you can tell from his grumble and his arms cinching around your waist. It's endearing, but no match for the protest in your joints.

“Ace, I’m sore,” you laugh out the complaint, too amused by his pouting. “Let’s lay down.”

“That I can agree to,” he says.

You doubt his words when you start to get off him and receive an indignant “hey”. 

“Who said you were allowed to get off?”

“Pretty sure I was just letting us both get off.”

“I helped,” he pouts.

“That’s an understatement,” you reassure with two quick pats to his cheek. “But for real, I gotta get off so we can get settled.”

“Agree to disagree,” Ace chimes with that maddeningly bright and charming smile of his. It crinkles his nose a moment and scrunches his eyes in a way that brings out their glimmer and you’re sure you’d never be able to say no to that face for long.

“Okay,” you sigh. “How are we going to do this?”

“Clumsily,” he answers without missing a beat and you laugh again.

“Okay, Commander, take the reins,” you say as you settle back into laying against him, happy to let him take over this clown show.

“Ooooo ‘commander’, huh? Wanna try calling me that next time?”

Instead of responding you give his back a half-hearted swat.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he reasons.

“I’m filing it away for later, but please Ace my poor hips. You’re gonna make me an old lady in my twenties,” you whine.

“At least you make a cute granny.” You can hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

“Move!” You laugh and he finally does.

He scoots you both back once, holding you tight through it while you giggle at the bumpy ride. Now back to the center of the bed, he shimmies for good measure and lays himself back. He holds his arms out expectantly and you just raise a brow at him.

“You’re gonna slip out.”

“I believe in you,” he says. He tried to be deadpan but his lips couldn’t resist the smile.

“There’s your first mistake,” you say and he just smiles wider.

You shift to the right so you can rotate your left leg out and down. You lean your weight on his chest for balance, a palm flat on each large pec, and slide your leg down and back right next to his. You shiver at the release in your joint and Ace shivers at the pressure on his chest and the jostle of your hips. His softened dick twitches in interest.

“Stop that, we need to sleep,” you reprimand with no real heat.

“I didn’t tell it to do that,” Ace deflects.

You chuckle and continue repositioning, leaning to the left this time. It feels just as nice when your right leg gets to be straight again and you can finally lay down. It feels a little strange to be lying directly on Ace’s middle instead of tucked to his side or spooning but it’s not unwelcome. It’s definitely not a permanent feature, though, and you tell him as much.

“Just for a while,” Ace promises. Much softer he adds, “Not ready yet.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Taking stock of your body, you feel a pleasant exhaustion and let it help you sink further into Ace. His hands rest gently on your back, one spread between your shoulder blades and one drawing shapes over your lower back. His thighs are so warm next to yours and the packed muscle feels so soft when he’s relaxed like this. The same goes for the pec currently being used as your pillow. Okay, maybe you could stay this way quite awhile; Ace is unfairly warm and comfortable and having him sit still half in you sates some instinct you didn’t know you had. 

“Blanket?” Ace asks.

“Dealer’s choice,” is your non-committal response.

With some reaching and finagling, Ace manages to get a hold of the sheets and flap them to lay over you. He leaves them so that they cover your legs but make it no further than the small of your back. It lets the slight chill of the room continue to cool you off without going so far as to make you cold. It’s absolutely perfect with his high body temperature radiating below you. Yeah, you’re pretty sure you could drift off into some of the best sleep of your life just like this.

A thought strikes you. 

“How did you stay hard that whole time?”

“I dunno,” he answers honestly through a yawn. Then he chuckles and adds, “maybe you just have a magic pussy.”

You laugh at the stupid joke, happy he’s relaxed enough in your relationship to joke more about sex now.

“Too bad you can’t go around testing that theory,” you sigh in mock sympathy.

Ace perks up and stares at you real strong. His eyes that were just fighting sleep are now full of life. You don’t say more and just let him look and stew on your words.

“Say it again but like I’m stupid?”

“That’s what I usually try to do.”

He barks a laugh.

“Damn, must be hard loving an idiot.”

“Not at all.” The tenderness that seeps from your words melts him straight through. Thinking better of leaving it (you know he knows you’re joking, but you also know that his mind is exceptionally cruel), you use the last of your energy to get up on your elbows and look him in the eyes. “You’re a dumbass sometimes, especially with those brothers of yours, but more than that you’re really smart.” You place a sweet kiss to his forehead. “And you’re strong and determined and reliable.” A kiss to one cheek. “And empathetic and sweet and thoughtful.” A kiss to the other one. “And you wanna know what you are more than anything else?”

“What?” His voice shakes and his eyes burn and he’s so exhausted from all the emotions of the night but they’ve also been the most precious things ever. 

You rest your forehead to his and take a deep breath, savoring the moment.

“You’re very very easy to love.”

A kiss binds your words and lips.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed 🥰 Please let me know if you did and criticisms are also welcome 🤍

Restarting tag list because Overthinking lol please lmk if you want to be on one! Even if you think it's obvious. I am: Stupid and Anxious 💀

Between Two Points Masterlist

Masterlist

[solxamber]

Valentines day event woowoowoo (dont burn yourself out aye!!)

Idia, romantic, "absolutely smitten" by Dodie (if i got that right-) :]

Hope it could be a fun one ! Stay safe ayeaye

i love the pining potential in the song!!! hope you like my interpretation of it <3

"I'm absolutely smitten" || Idia Shroud

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Absolutely Smitten by Dodie

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 670

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers

Idia first sees you during orientation. Not in person, of course—there’s no way he’d willingly subject himself to a room full of loud, unpredictable people—but through his tablet, streaming the event from the safety of his dorm.

It’s routine, really, just scoping out who he’ll inevitably be avoiding for the next few years. But then the camera pans across the crowd, and he sees you.

And something unfamiliar stirs in his chest.

It’s a strange, unquantifiable feeling, something too big for him to handle, too much for his ribs to cage in. His fingers tighten around the tablet as he watches you smile at something someone says, and a thought creeps into his brain before he can stop it.

I wish that were me.

It’s over for him. Absolutely, completely, no-respawn doomed.

And when he actually gets to know you? Oh, he’s done for. Every interaction with you is a critical hit to his heart. You are bright where he is shadowed, warm where he is cold, a force of nature where he is content to be static.

And yet, somehow, you seem to like being around him. You talk to him, seek him out, sit with him even when he fumbles through his words and hides behind his hood.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Idia Shroud, the ghost of Ignihyde, the one who would rather face a boss battle on the highest difficulty than make eye contact with another human being, wants nothing more than to be close to you.

He wants to talk to you about everything that makes his mind race at 3 AM, wants to know what makes you tick, wants to kiss you until he forgets what loneliness feels like.

But he can’t. Because you are you, and he is him, and the idea of ruining what he has with you is a fear greater than any horror game could ever conjure.

So he does nothing. He pines. He wonders.

Are you just being nice?

Would you ever see him that way?

Is he even worth your time?

And yet, he doesn’t know that you are just as smitten.

The day you met him is engraved in your brain like a prophecy fulfilled. You think he’s the one. It sounds ridiculous, impossibly romantic, something straight out of a visual novel, but you can’t shake the feeling that you and Idia are meant to be.

And so, one day, when you’re sitting next to him in his room—shoulders almost touching, his leg bouncing like a loading screen buffering at 99%—you slide a little closer.

“Idia.”

He stiffens. “W-what?”

“I like you.” A pause. “I really like you.”

His brain blue-screens.

You barely have time to process his expression—wide golden eyes, parted lips—before he starts tearing up.

“Wait, wait, are you okay?” You panic, reaching for him, but he shakes his head rapidly, hands clutching his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

“You—” His voice cracks. “You actually—?”

You nod. “I mean, yeah. Kinda thought it was obvious.”

Obvious? Obvious? He’s been agonizing over this for months, drowning in his feelings, convinced you were nothing more than a dream he was too scared to wake up from. And yet, here you are, looking at him like he’s the greatest thing to ever happen to you.

He doesn’t know what to say. But you do.

So you pull him into a hug, letting him bury his face in your shoulder as he trembles. His hands hover before finally clutching the fabric of your shirt, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he holds on too tightly.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Idia feels whole.

He pulls back slightly, and when he looks at your soft smile, something inside him clicks into place. He’s never letting you go.

And when you look at his teary-eyed grin, you think the same thing.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[tovibeornottovibe]

Deny! Deny! Deny! - Part I

Azriel x Priestess!Fem!OC

Azriel knows Thea is just as attracted to him as he is to her. He's content to only think about her when he's in bed and he's happy to know that she's doing the same. They can spar and meet up in the training ring secretly when they can't sleep. They can talk about sex and revenge and whatever they're reading at the moment like they're things two friends just discuss at the same time. Unfortunately, an external problem forces them to be confined in the House of Wind together, with only a certain Eris Vanserra as temporary company. So, naturally, he ruins everything. [4.5k words]

warnings: explicit sexual content from the very start, masturbation, azriel being a horny mf, various sexual fantasies, swearing

Prefer to read on Ao3?

Azriel’s at his desk in the House of Wind, working, reading reports and writing little notes to himself in red ink along the margins. It’s taking him twice as long to sort through the useful parts because he keeps letting his mind wander to what it he imagines it’s like to come in Thea’s mouth. His shadows are thoroughly banished to the corners of his office, since they tend to whisper things like: when she touches herself, she whispers your name, she needs you, she’s dripping just for you, shadowsinger, wants your tongue and your hands and your… in his ear and they aren’t supposed to be eavesdropping on her. In fact, he’s ordered them not to. Explicitly. Who or what Thea thinks about in bed is not his business and he doesn’t want it to be, even if it’s him.

Because it isn’t really him, it’s just a fantasy of what she thinks he’ll be like. Same way that when he thinks of her, it isn’t her. He doesn’t know what her moans sound like or how intoxicating her skin tastes or what pretty colour her nipples are. He’s content never to find out too. His imagination is good enough.

By the time Rhys pulls that thread in the back of his mind to let him know he wants to talk, he’s this close to coming in his trousers and nowhere near hitting the very high work quota that he sets himself. 

Not a good time, Rhys, he says along the thread, and curses himself. He sounds breathy even in his head.

A dark chuckle comes back at him. Am I interrupting?

Technically, no, but Az is about to palm himself through his underwear until he spills with Thea’s name caught in his throat. When he does that, he’ll need time to clean himself up. He’s not walking into Rhys’ office smelling like he’s been in a pleasure hall in the middle of the day—though, it would get Rhys off his back about Elain finally, and then he half-considers the idea before he snaps himself out of it. So, he supposes, Rhys is interrupting, and Az isn’t available to him until he deals with his straining cock.

What do you want? he grits out, kind of like his teeth are stuck together. 

Rhys hedges, his tone annoying, Just a friendly little chit-chat between brothers, nothing hugely importan—

You’re an asshole, Az deadpans, I’m not in the mood. The heat curling in his stomach is starting to burn. Shifting in his seat makes him tense just from the friction of the fabric moving against his skin. He’s a fool, he thinks, for not just taking a break and rubbing one out earlier to get his concentration back, but there’s something delicious about clamping his jaw shut so no one hears him groaning if they pass by the door while he gets himself off in here. Maybe Cassian’s right to call him a freak in bed. Or out of bed, as the case may be.

Just finish who you’re doing and meet me in the river house once you’ve had a bath, Rhys says. We’ve had an interesting proposal.

…Damn his curiosity. 

From who? he asks.

For the moment his brother hesitates, Az thinks he’s going to fob him off and not tell him anything at all, but then, very carefully, Rhys says, That’ll definitely ruin your afternoon. And whoever it is you have with you. He lets out a huff of frustration that isn’t just because he’s been hard for twenty minutes now when Rhys retreats from the bond and leaves his head. Cryptic bullshit. Makes him anxious. Not great for maintaining a hard-on.

The irritation quickly disappears when he undoes the ties at his crotch and squeezes his cock the same way he thinks Thea will clench around him when she’s close. It’s languid and needy and he’s panting quietly at his fucking desk of all places while he smears the pre-cum thats leaking from his tip all over himself so it’s easier to tug just the way he likes it. He grips the edge of his desk when his wings start to twitch and tighten. His abs ache from the tension that keeps him from bucking up into his own hand; that’s just embarrassing. It’s probably a lewd sight, and the thought of Thea watching him whine is what gets him to come so hard on his stomach that he actually sees stars. 

Bliss, that’s what he calls it. Euphoria is reserved for the real thing.

Thea being the subject of what gets him off doesn’t factor into the post-climax guilt he feels. She knows he thinks about her like this; she asked him one time up in the training ring, he answered honestly, and she didn’t tell him not to. She laughed at him for it, coyly, and he thinks about the sound of that too. So it’s fine. 

What does get him to second-guess himself is the fact that both Rhys and Mor will skin him alive for thinking about a priestess like that, regardless of whether Thea likes it or not. They’re like that. Principles apply without context. That, and he’s made an utter mess of himself, and this particular shirt, pair of trousers, and boxers are now ruined. 

A few minutes having been taken to just be, recovering, his shadows aren’t picky about taking him from this room to his bedroom, where he strips, throws his clothes on the floor (where the House vanishes them. He’s not sure he wants to know where it puts things like that), washes, and redresses himself all in the space of five minutes. They fuss at his shoulders, but know better than to start talking again. He’d sooner fly to the river house alone than listen to them spoil Thea’s preferences. Though a comfort, they’re unnecessarily involved in trying to provide him with more company than they can give. Feminine temptation, they know as well as he does, is an effective way to make him crack.

But not when it comes to Thea.

He lands in the back gardens of the river house where the edge of the land runs off into the Sidra. Rhys and Feyre have a little pier down here where, he doesn’t know, they fish with Nyx or something. It’s all very domestic. Perfect for a kid. He’s happy for them. Really, really happy for them. Sure, the bitter, acidic envy roiling in his chest says otherwise, but he’s not listening to that right now. Or ever, if he can help it.

He strolls in through the backdoor with his shadows curling around his figure softly, barely visible in the natural Summer sunlight that streams through the windows of the house. It’s good lighting for painting, Feyre had been telling him. The stairs up to Rhys’ office are short work, he takes them two at a time, and he passes by the portraits on the walls that he’s seen a hundred times in the same way he always does, in awe. Such detail in the brush marks that the ones he can see have to be deliberate, dragging the paint for a specific effect. Az doesn’t know enough about art to know if what Feyre does is common, but he knows what he likes, and he likes what his High Lady paints.

He knocks, but Rhys calls him in before he’s finished and the metallic taste of High Fae magic hits his tongue as the door flicks open of its own accord. Soft, perfect laughter wafts through the threshold before he can take another step, and now he considers if the Mother has been conspiring against him today, because he knows that laugh.

“Ah, decided to finally grace us with your presence, Az?” It’s Mor who’s talking, a bit impatiently, but Azriel’s still snagging on who’s sitting opposite Rhys, eyeing him over her shoulder while she puts down her tea with a clink.

It shouldn’t surprise him that Thea leaves the library sometimes. Her idiosyncrasies stretch further than that, he would assume. It doesn’t surprise him that she’s wearing that wrap of blue fabric that hugs her thighs and around her ankles so that it’s more of a bodysuit than a dress, despite the flowing silk which is draped around her shoulders. The way the light bounces off her terra-cotta skin and makes the bronze in her dark curls shimmer doesn’t shock him either—he’s entirely aware of the fact that she can rival Helion for looking like the sun personified at times, and he knows that sounds romantic but it isn’t. It’s factual. Completely objective.

However, the gold foil, very intentionally flecked on the apples of her cheeks in little scraps which follow the curve of her eyes like stars, that gets him. And now he has a new way to imagine her gasping for him. Why in the world has she done that and how in the hell does it frame her face so well?

…Bad thoughts. He’s blocking them out.

Her being in Rhys’ office, that is what he needs to focus on.

“I…” he starts as he falters into the room, ripping his gaze off of Thea before it can get suspicious and onto Mor, who’s lounging by the window which looks out into the city, “...was busy.” Neither she nor Rhys give him the usual sly, snide comments at the insinuation of that. He directs his question at his brother, letting himself glance at Thea only to nod at her in greeting, like he hasn’t just had a mind-blowing orgasm at the idea of her tittering at him when he whimpers for her, before he sits down in the chair next to her. “What’s going to ruin my afternoon?”

“This is.” 

Rhys grimaces before Az turns to Thea. Between her index finger and her middle finger, she clasps a letter written on yellow-ish paper, its red seal already broken, and the page unfolded. She looks at him and tilts her head, a small smile quirking on her lips like she thinks this is funny, and he gently takes the letter from her hand. He ignores it when his fingers brush against hers.

When he sees what’s stamped on the seal, he feels his blood run cold: baying dogs amongst fire. The feeling doesn’t stop until he’s finished reading every single word that’s scrawled in that fucking handwriting on that fucking paper. 

“This is addressed to you, Thea. Directly addressed to you,” he says, raking his eyes over the word Hemithea at the top of the page. If Az's familiarity with her strikes Rhys or Mor as odd, they don’t mention it, and he’s too hyperfocused on the letter to notice if they make faces or if their breathing changes. He snaps his head up to her and makes sure she’s looking at him before he asks, “Why is Eris Vanserra addressing letters about…?” He searches for the term on the paper.

“Dissociative stimulants?” she offers, but the look he gives her makes her go quiet and he realises he’s angry. Furious, even. It’s not the cold anger that he only lets Rhys see, not the icy rage that comes over him when he needs to release it. And it’s not with her, never, but with the situation, and he’s not doing a good job at pushing that at anything but her. There’s no fear on her face, thankfully, she just seems taken aback by the strength of his feeling about it. So is he, if he’s honest, but having his friend offer advice to one of his mortal enemies wasn’t what he had on the cards for today. 

“Yes,” he bites out. “Those. Why is he asking you about those?”

“Azriel,” Rhys warns lowly. He slides his gaze over to his brother for a second, before it settles back on Thea and he waits.

“It’s fine,” she says to Rhys, waving him off, and then her sole attention is on him and Az can feel the wind get kicked out from under him as she fixes him still. “Eris—” hearing the prick’s name come out of her mouth puts him on edge, “—asked Rhys for information on a certain plant that his father has begun using, and Rhys directed him to me because that’s what I research—”

He cuts her off. “I know what you research, Thea.” Of course he does. He can sit and watch her smash training dummy after training dummy with her impeccable blade skills on those sleepless nights of theirs and happily listen to her talk about medicines and hallucinogens for hours on end. It’s not only useful for when he needs to apply a bit more pressure in the dungeons of the Hewn City, but it’s truly fascinating and the passion in her voice when she speaks is more soothing than any kind of tea Madja has ever given him for headaches. “Why are we providing Eris with access to our scholars?” Her face softens when he calls her that. Scholar. The sight relaxes him, but not enough.

“We aren’t,” Mor says firmly from behind him, still lounging and looking out of the window. 

“Mor—” Thea begins, but Rhys stops her softly.

He addresses both Mor and Az plainly. “I want to know what Beron is doing beyond what Az’s spies can tell us.” It’s not meant as an insult, but it hurts like one, and Rhys sends him an apologetic look. Not a reflection on you, brother. Even Az knows that there are limits to what someone paid to betray their home Court is willing, or able, to provide. “If he’s found a substitute for faebane now that we’re inoculated, we need to be prepared. Eris is giving us information about that whether he thinks he is or not.”

Realisation dawns on Azriel so quickly he’s certain the rest of the room can feel it. He has to shut his jaw before it hangs open for too long. “You’re tricking him.”

Thea, again smiling at him, nods. “In a way, yes.”

Is that pride blooming in his chest?

“I’ve been plying him for as much information as I can get. Obviously, he knows we’re gaining from what he’s telling us, but he thinks the details I’m asking for are just out of curiosity.”

Then… why is this an issue?

He hadn’t said a word, but Mor answers his question anyway. “If you let him into the city,” she snaps, “he wins. You do get that, don’t you?” In her voice is the wet rage of a person who cares too much. It’s righteous rage, after everything that happened to her.

Wait.

Double take.

“Let him into the city? ” he snarls at Rhys, who’s watching for his reaction with a kind of impassive, neutral face. 

Thea sighs beside him. “If we want to understand what it is this plant does,” she says coolly, “I need to see the physical effects of it on the body. Eris is capable of giving me that, and I’m not leaving Velaris to get it.”

The admission knocks him out of his anger so completely that his spiking shadows drop flat to the floor before they whirl up to his shoulders again. Gods, of course she won’t leave the city. Eris has to come to her. She’s a scholar, but a priestess too. The library is her sanctuary and he knows exactly what happened to her for it to have become that. Only he, Mor, and Rhys are aware of the story, Mor actively being the one to bring her to Velaris, and the other two don’t even know that Thea told him one night in the House of Wind. Leaving the library to come here is bravery enough; he’ll physically stop Mor pushing that boundary if he has to.

“Then get someone else to meet with him,” Mor says, and Az understands. Thea, knowing her, will too. It’s an unfair scenario, but he’s already shaking his head at the notion. No one else understands this substance like Thea does, and try as he might to comprehend all of the things she tells him, she’s the expert. The depth of her knowledge would take years to teach someone else so they could perform whatever study she needs to, and by then, Beron might be using this stimulant for something nefarious. They can’t have that.

“He’d stay in the House of Wind, Mor,” Rhys explains kindly. He too gets it, why she’s so irate about it. “He’s not getting anywhere close to the city.”

“Punt him off one of the balconies,” Thea says. “Let me strap him to a table and make him bleed for what he did to you, Mor.” The imagery of that, and Thea being the one to do it, pleases Az more than he cares to admit. “It doesn’t matter to me what happens to him, but only after I’ve wrung every last bit of information out of him. This—” she waves the letter in the air, “—scares me. If it does what I think it does, then we need to know how to combat it as fast as possible.”

Mor swallows, purses her lips, and returns to the window. Az can’t tell if that’s quiet acceptance of Eris’ presence, or angry acceptance of the fact that Rhys is going to let him into the city with or without her approval. Something about that sits uncomfortably in Azriel’s stomach. Willfully ignoring your second-in-command is a bold, if stupid, move.

“What do you think it does?” he asks, noting the real, shaking fear in the way Thea spoke. It’s not something he ever wants to hear again. Even Rhys sits back as he watches her take a breath.

“The classification of it: dissociative stimulant, tells you a lot,” she says. “It stimulates brain function. Makes you forget the limits your body puts your muscles under to stop you tearing yourself in half. Makes you more aggressive, heightens every basic instinct you have. And the dissociative part…”

“You’re out of your mind while it’s affecting you,” he finishes for her.

She makes a little hum of approval. Inappropriately, he stores the sound for a different context. “Hallucinations. Delusions. Totally abnormal emotional responses,” she continues. “Reading between the lines of what Eris says, it has a side effect of making a person more… malleable. Think being controlled by a daemati but you can give it to thousands and thousands of soldiers who won’t feel pain, don’t want to eat, and have no concept of their morals, all without breaking a sweat. Eris—he’s terrified of it.”

Sounds a lot like the Crown, he thinks absently.

Rhys must have caught the thought, because his voice rings in Az’s head. But far worse.

Does Feyre—?

A nod. Thea came here and explained everything to the two of us already. I thought she was going to break the front door off its hinges.

If this weren’t so serious, he’d laugh at the image. Thea went down the ten thousand steps and crossed the city for this, instead of trying to find him or Cassian and ask them to help her. Then again, if she had decided to get him, she’d have found him with his hand around his cock, probably sighing her name, so it’s for the best that she didn’t. Besides, it’s obvious to him that the exertion of the journey hasn’t affected her. She’s wide-eyed. Excited, even. It’s a strange thing to note.

He swallows thickly. Refocuses. He hates everything about this. He hates that Mor is the one who has to bear the brunt of it. He doesn’t want Eris within ten feet, no, ten miles of Thea, and Cassian… Logistically, it doesn’t seem possible. “Cassian will kill him before he even steps foot in the House of Wind. If Eris breathes near Nesta, it’s over before it begins,” he says.

Measured, detached, Rhys replies, “Neither of them will be in the House of Wind when he’s here.”

The plan, Azriel realises, has been set out before he’d even arrived, and he’s just walked Rhys and Thea through it the same way they probably formed it. Clever.

“And you want me to play chaperone,” he concludes, not bothering to ask it as a question. “Again.” Mor perks up at the word, but it’s for Rhys and him to know. “Fine.”

“Fine?” Rhys asks, almost splutters, like he was expecting more pushback.

But it is fine. It’s the only way any of this is fine. If he isn’t there, then Thea has no safety net, and no one would be around to keep Eris in his place. That fucker will try something, he feels it. He’s not about to give Eris unfettered access to her. That sounds like possessiveness, but it isn’t. While they might be training the priestesses in the House of Wind, and though Thea is the best of them, Eris has five-hundred-years of experience and the power of an heir to a Court. So, yeah, he nods, it’s fine. Not good, not okay. Fine. 

To Thea, he asks, “How long do you think you’ll need?”

She shrugs. “A few days, maybe more. I don’t know.” At that, Mor huffs and stands abruptly, walking out without a word, and Thea winces. “That doesn’t feel great,” she says.

“She’ll get over it,” Rhys says carefully as he stares after where she’d disappeared behind the door. Thea offers him a weak smile, like she knows that’s a lie. For Mor, this is an unforgivable situation—but the fact that Feyre agreed to it so readily is a marker of how important it is; it’s probably driven a wedge between them. Family dinners are going to go back to being awkward.

“I think I need to go clear my head.” Thea stands, pushes herself up delicately with her fingers pressing into the leather arms of the chair. “I’ll write to Eris once I’m back at the library,” she tells Rhys. 

“As soon as he—” Rhys starts, but Thea nods.

“I know the plan, Rhys,” she says. “I’ll see you soon.” And then she’s turning to Az and saying, “You still owe me from this morning.” Over the other side of the desk, Rhys’ eyebrows shoot up.

He owes her ten marks because he bet her that she couldn’t nick him in the neck when they sparred after general training was finished with earlier. Usually, when they practice swordplay, the goal for him isn’t to win, it’s to facilitate Thea practicing her skills and keep her reflexes honed. Her goal is, always, to land a hit that grazes his skin, because she’s the only priestess besides Gwyn who has the control to use a blade with a sharp edge. Training swords, he explained to her once, don’t hold the weight of the real thing. So, he ends every morning training session with another mark on himself, usually on his torso, or his arms, occasionally his thighs, but this time, he challenged her, and she rose to meet it. Illyrian healing has made the cut heal over already, but he and Thea know it’s there.

“Do it again tomorrow. Double or nothing,” he says, ignoring the look Rhys is giving him. 

In response, Thea scoffs a laugh. “Deal,” she says, shaking her head at him. “See you later, Az.” She passes by him and her hand twitches like she’s going to run her hands through his hair. She's in the habit of doing that to annoy him, but it doesn't annoy him; he practically keens every time. She restrains herself for Rhys’ benefit and he doesn’t watch her go. When she leaves the room, Az lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

The silence from his brother grates on him.

“Say whatever it is you want to say, Rhys,” he says calmly.

Rhys flicks his eyes between him and the door. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” Az glowers at him, and he sags back into his chair, the final bit of High Lord in him melting away. “I didn’t know you and Thea were…” He looks away, searching for the word. “...close,” is what he settles on—bitingly disapprovingly, but with some reluctance too. 

“She’s my friend,” Az states, because it’s true. His shadows darken around his forearms.

“She’s a priestess,” Rhys says, and it reminds Az of a parent. Now Rhys is a father, he has that stern, paternal tone to him when he’s scolding them like children. 

“So?”

He knows what Rhys is getting at, but, pettily, he wants him to say it. Wants him to admit that he thinks he’s incapable of keeping it in his pants. 

However, Rhys so rarely gives Az what he wants these days, and changes the subject. The warning has been understood regardless.

“Who were you with earlier?” he asks, smirking. “Do we know her?”

Azriel folds his hands in his lap and crosses his legs. He’s never answered that question before, not even if Mor asked him, and he’s not about to start now. “I don’t need you meddling in my sex life, Rhys,” he says, thinking bitterly to himself that he doesn’t actually have one currently, and he has no plans to change it. It’s not that he can’t get one. He could go to Rita’s tonight, be flooded with offers from males and females alike, and he could easily have two at a time; he’s not naïve of that. He’s just not going to, especially since Rita’s makes him nauseous when he’s there alone.

“Forgive me for being curious,” he says. “Cassian tells me you haven’t taken a lover for years.”

Of course Cassian tells you that. Brotherly love extends a long way and it's the reason Azriel doesn’t wring Cass’ neck for being a busybody. “I don’t need Cassian meddling either.”

Rhys runs his tongue along his teeth and relents, throwing his hands up in surrender. “For what it’s worth,” he says, a feline grin gracing his face, “when you do get another lover, it’ll be gratifying to keep him and Nesta up all night in revenge, no?”

That makes Az exhale a little laugh despite himself, and Rhys clearly takes it as a victory. “Maybe,” he says, shrugging. “I was in the middle of something.” He still has a lot of work to do, and now his previous problem is dealt with, he can get back to being efficient about it.

“Go on,” Rhys says, nodding to the door. “Make sure Thea gets back safe, will you?” he adds, but the warning is back in his tone, as if to say do that and don’t dare do anything else.

On the flight back to the House of Wind, he sends his shadows to find her. She’s in The Rainbow, shopping, chatting with vendors. She doesn’t get back for another couple of hours, and he leaves her be while he works.

let me know if you want to be added to a taglist :)

[leighsartworks216]

Stolen Kisses

Zayne x gn!Reader

Inspired by two gifs, right here and right here

I think Zayne kissing me like he's drowning and I'm his only source of air would change me. Make me worse. God I want it

Warnings: fluff, kissing, touch starved Zayne, light banter, light angst (if you squint?)

Word Count: 1,010

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Third Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Before you can lose your resolve, you grab Zayne by his collar and kiss him. It doesn't last long, but in the second or two that it does, you pour as much of your love for him into the kiss as you can.

You pull away quickly. Your anxieties have caught up to you. God, that was such a stupid move. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

You cover your mouth and squeak out an apology, avoiding looking at his face, completely missing the awed, dazed expression he held. Maybe if you can get outside fast enough you can escape this moment. Maybe you'll both ignore each other for a few days and then text each other promising never to talk about it ever again. You turn to make your escape.

A hand on your shoulder stops you before you can, however, turning you back around to face him. Another hand uncovers your mouth, and his lips are on yours again.

Your back hits the door, your head quickly cushioned by his hand, the other holding desperately to your waist. His breaths fill your senses as they fan against your cheek from his nose, as though he's trying so hard not to need to pull away. There's a slight tremor to them, too. A shaky sigh of relief.

You hold the back of his neck, tangling your fingers into his short black hair. Grab onto his open collar, keeping him close, never wanting him to part.

It takes so long before the kiss begins to soften. His breaths shuddering with overwhelming emotion as he slows to give you chaste pecks. Every single time his mouth is on yours, your heart aches, tortured from all the times you imagined what kissing him would be like. And now you know. And now you don't want to ever forget.

His nose brushes alongside yours as he pulls away. Breaths mingling together. He lets go of your waist in favor of cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking just under your eyes. "Open your eyes," he whispers, almost pleadingly.

Your brow furrows in worry. "I'm scared."

"Why?"

"Because... I don't want this to be a dream. I'm scared I'll open my eyes, and you won't be here... and none of this will have happened."

He doesn't say anything for a moment. You can feel his eyes flickering over your face, studying you up close in a way you've longed to do with him. His hand shifts from your cheek. You immediately miss the cool touch, the softness of his palm, the precision of his fingers.

He pinches your earlobe. You wince, leaning toward it instinctively. He chuckles softly as he soothes it between his thumb and finger. "Are you still dreaming?" he asks.

Your heart seems to lodge itself in your throat as you slowly open your eyes. He's still there, so close. Hazel green eyes shine with delight behind his glasses.

"There you are." He smiles at the heat he feels in your cheeks as he holds your face again. It's incredible to him how at ease he feels like this; your kiss, the catalyst to it all.

You experimentally play with the hair at the back of his neck. His eyes flutter briefly, a quiet gasp choked in his throat. It's as if your touch is the first he's felt in a millennium. Warm and gentle. It's dizzying, knowing you have this effect on him. With your hand on his collar, you brush your knuckles against his throat. You feel his Adam's apple bob against them.

You nudge your nose against his. "Can I kiss you again?"

With half-lidded eyes, he nods slightly, granting you permission. You tilt your chin up, kissing him in a slow, ghosting touch of lips. Your eyes linger open a crack just to see his expression. The way his eyes close, savoring anything you deign to give him.

He pulls away, letting go of you to pull off his glasses and set them carelessly in the key-bowl beside the door, before diving back in. His kiss is more insistent, more intent on tasting and indulging in you. He takes his time in the same breath that he seeks for more.

His tongue brushes curiously along your lip. You make such a sweet sound as you open your mouth to him, welcome him in. He licks into you with a groan, pressing you further against the door with his body right up to yours. Even still, he's not seeking for anything more than your kiss. He does not reach for your clothes, or slot his hips right up against yours. He just wants this - wants to kiss you for hours, to relieve himself of so many years pining after you and being too respectful not to do anything about it.

You sigh his name and you swear he whimpers at the sound of it like that, so breathy and wanton. It takes so much of his resolve to be able to draw away again, before he fully loses control. Before he gets so lost in you that his Evol starts acting up. Even still, when he pulls away, he stays close, forehead pressed to yours as he tries to get his breathing back under control.

His eyes flutter open at last. He looks at you with so much warmth, so much love. His lips curl into a soft smile, and he leans up to press a kiss to your forehead. "Sit with me a while longer," he whispers against your skin. You nod. Of course. You'd be hard pressed to leave now, when he's finally in your arms in ways you'd only dreamt of.

He steps away slowly, hands slipping from your face and the back of your head, to take hold of your own hands and lead you from the door.

The night carries on outside his house. Cars drive in the city lights, stars blink down from above. The world spins on, as two new lovers speak in hushed whispers about the wonderful start of their relationship between stolen kisses.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @hawtlineblingz @that-lost-one

[ditzydoe444]

I'm being haunted by the image of tying Jason to the bed and riding him slowly to tease him. Keeping him tethered on the edge and when he finally has enough of your games, he snaps. Your back hits the bed as he slams into you. You think you can just tease him like that the whole night and expect nothing to happen to you? No, no, no. Now you're gonna have to deal with the consequences of edging him.

-🌙

MDNI 18+

jason todd smut

“don’t fucking tease me sweetheart,” jason groaned lowly as he watched you toy with him, sliding your slick cunt across his dick and barely putting the tip in before teasing him again and again. “i’m not teasing you jacey,” you batted your eyelashes at him, your voice sounding innocent despite the small grin on your lips seeing him hiss at the friction.

jason was big, strong enough to lift you up on his shoulders with one arm with no struggle, so when you said the flimsy pink ribbon you tied him up with because you thought it’ll look pretty with him, the moment the fabric strained you panicked. you knew it was a stupid idea tying a man as big as him up with a ribbon, but it was all you had, since you didn’t have the same strength as him when the roles were reversed the ribbon worked just fine.

in a matter of seconds the ribbon snapped, jason gripped your hips and slammed you down on the mattress, pinning you down with his weight. “don’t say i didn’t warn you,” he whispered lowly as he nibbled your ear. “you’ll be getting a lesson.”

with no warning he slammed into you, the sheer size of his length making the stretch burn slightly as he abused your gummy walls. “m-mmph jay,” you whined as you tried to wiggle your way out of it, only to have your hands pinned. “i warned ya, you don’t get to tease me and get away with it.”

he abused your cunt, his balls slapping against your ass as he buried himself in you, your walls clenched around him, “always so damn welcoming sweetheart, it’s like your pussy knows where home is.”

jason watched as your slick coated his cock, the way you whined and writhed under him as you turned into a babbling mess. “hm what’s that sweetheart?” he cooed teasingly before slamming back into you.

“s-so much jay,” you moaned as your eyes shut tightly when he slammed back into you. jason knew you were a sensitive little thing, the way you moaned over the slightest touch of his thumb grazing over your sensitive clit was enough to make you come alone. he watched as your arousal dripped down to his pubes, “fuck, always making a mess sweetheart?” he teased watching your mouth open in a pathetic little ‘o’ as he slammed back into you.

“sorry jacey,” you whined as your legs buckled, bouncing with his thrusts. jason chuckled, “yeah sweetheart keep telling yourself that.” you could tell jason was teasing you, the way his strokes slowed down when your moans increased and he would drag out letting you come for the longest time.

“jacey need to come,”

he shook his head, “you teased me sweetheart, and you’re not getting away with it.”

[arbitrarykiwi]

omfg i think i speak for everyone when i say we need more thanos and nam gyu boyfriend content bc OHMYGOD i need them i need them to pass ME like a blunt

Passed Around

omg uhhh..... YES??!!! there's just somethin about the idea of smoking with them and then getting absolutely RUINED by both of them. you would have to pull me out of a room with them by the back of my neck like a fucking DOG!!! I NEED BOAF EM SO BAYYYYDDDDD!!!! I hope you enjoy anon!!! <3

Warnings: smut (18+), bro..I took this and fucking ran with it omg, weed smoking, sex while high, threesome, oral (m and f receiving), they both eat you out at the same time, choking, squirting, multiple orgasms, recording sex (they both do it), missionary, doggy style, deep throating/ throat fucking, name calling (bitch, slut, whore) ((but they really mean it endearingly)) , facial, lil bit of cum play, spit, spanking, Thanos slaps you like once (not in a mean way), fuckeddumb! Reader, probably more, read at your own risk

If anyone comes across this that’s not familiar with my profile- first off hiiii!- second, this request bounces of a previous thangyu x reader request you can find here - it’s not needed to read it before this, just wanted to put it here if you wish to find more of my thangyu content :D

If someone asked if you were lucky, you’d say yes without a doubt in your mind. And it’s all because of your two doting boyfriends!

Thanos and Nam-gyu were admittedly like night and day, they couldn’t be more different from each other- but that’s what makes them work so well! You got the best of both worlds.

You hardly could ever spend a moment alone, they always had to be by you. If they both weren’t there, one of them was. But thankfully tonight, you have both of them at your sides. You’re sandwiched in between them on Nam-gyu’s bed. A blunt is being passed between the three of you, the room smoky and only lit by the bright colors of the TV that blares the show you guys were watching. You think you guys are on your third or fourth blunt of the night- you weren’t sure they just kept rolling anytime one was finished, and you just kept smoking them.

You’re laid back against the headboard of Nam-gyu’s bed. Your hooded eyes watching the TV with a dazed expression. The warmth of their body’s only helping to relax you further than you already are.

They’re curled around you, Thanos was to your left, he had his arm slung around you, your head on his shoulder, one of his tattooed fingers playing with your hair. He’d alternate between stroking your hair or just having his hand slung over your shoulder, going under the collar of your shirt to grab at one of your breasts- it wasn’t even sexual, he just loved the feel of your tits in his hands. It calmed him down! At least that’s what he always told you.

Nam-gyu is lying on top of your stomach, legs entangled with yours. His cold hands are under your shirt, drawing random patterns against the skin of your stomach. Your hand is in his hair, twirling the black strands around your fingers. Anytime you’d poke his head to pas him the blunt, he’d remove his hands from under your shirt to reach up and take the blunt, hit it, then pass it back to Thanos- returning his hands to under your shirt. Following in Thanos’ footsteps as he’d reach his hand up to your other breast that Thanos wasn’t occupying and copy his movements.

And that’s how you guys stay for a bit as you smoked, Thanos and Nam-gyu would occasionally have a hand on one of your tits, removing themselves from you only to hit the blunt.

You were either too high, too entranced in the show on TV or in such a calm haze by their gentle touches and presence, or a mixture of all three- but you seem to miss the look your two boyfriends give each other. It’s a silent confirmation that they both want the same thing-you. There’s a hungry glint in both of their eyes as they stare at each other. Thanos nods, his grin widening as he nudges you with his arm that’s skin around your shoulder.

Thanos takes a long drag, sucking in the smoke, and holding it in for a moment. You think he’s trying to show you something, why else would he get your attention by nudging you like that? You also feel Nam-gyu twist his head against your stomach. You look down to find his chin resting against your flesh, looking up at you with red tinted eyes and a hazy smile, “Hi my baby.” You coo quickly, with a confused giggle, hand running over his hair making sure to acknowledge him- god forbid you give Thanos more attention than Nam-gyu.

You’re then quickly turning your face back to Thanos, trying to see what he wanted to show you. You watch him as he stares at you with his hooded eyes. He lets his breath go, the yellow-ish smoke is billowing out of his mouth. Your eyes widen, “ooohhh! It’s yellow, you guys picked up really good shit this time.” You praise, figuring that’s that he wanted to show you. But it wasn’t.

They both chuckle, Thanos passes the blunt to Nam-gyu, reaching over you and skipping your turn in the rotation completely. You’re pulled out of your stoned haze as you whip your head to look at Thanos accusatorially. “What the fuck?! You skipped me.” You pout looking over to Nam-gyu who smirks at you and hits the blunt, staring at you mockingly from his spot against your stomach.

The purple haired man to your left just laughs, leaning in and beginning to trail his nose up your neck, inhaling your scent. His hand, now free from the blunt runs up your stomach, over your chest, and up your neck to your jaw, turning your face back to him. “You don’t need to be hittin’ that Señorita, you’re gonna be busy.” He mumbles, a wicked grin on his face as he brings you closer to him, capturing your lips in his.

You sigh into it, it’s slow and full of tongue. You always hate how easily they can make you melt. Your lips move in sync, Thanos’ tattooed hands come to cup the sides of your face, pulling you impossibly closer. His tongue is exploring your mouth, tasting you for all you’re worth.

You let out a surprised sound that was akin to a squeak as from your right side, Nam-gyu’s hands are all over you, gripping at your waist as he pushes your shirt up to begin leaving open mouthed kisses on your stomach, the blunt hanging loosely between his fingers as he pushes himself upwards to begin to kiss along your neck as you continue kissing his purple haired counterpart part. Thanos is suddenly pulling away from the kiss, biting your bottom lip as he retreats. His hands push your face to your right and immediately Nam-gyu’s lips are on yours.

Any time they do something like this, pushing you or guiding you to the other when they’re finished- truly sharing you rather than competing with each other- it has you spinning. The contrast between Thanos’ desperate, rough kiss to Nam-gyu’s forceful and needy one already has you feeling hot and bothered.

Nam-gyu always kisses you so fervently, like you’re a dream that he never wants to wake up from. His hands are working up your waist to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh in his hands. Thanos hisses, feeling his cock harden as he watches you two make out, gritting his teeth and drawing in a shaky breath when he sees one of Nam-gyu’s hands remove itself from under your shirt and come up to grip at your throat as he pulls away from the kiss.

It’s an instant reaction when his grip tightens on your neck, you whine out desperately, eyebrows upturning and pupils blowing wide. You can hear the both of them chuckle. Nam-gyu is pulling you up, guiding you by your throat to a kneeling position. Thanos situates himself behind you, hands reaching up under your shirt, immediately beginning to pull at your perky nipples. Thankfully, you hardly ever wore a bra when you were with them- why would you? It just gets in the way more often than not.

“See… all it takes is me choking her and she gets so worked up f’us. ‘S like a lil on switch ain’t it?” Nam-gyu chides with a mocking tone, punctuating his words by squeezing your throat harder. It causes you to bite your lip, your body temperature sky rocketing, you can feel your pussy begin to throb. The pressure that’s added to your neck causes you to arch back into Thanos, pressing your ass back into him.

You hear Thanos chuckle darkly as he hooks his chin over one of your shoulders his hands dropping from your breasts to your hips, his fingers slipping below the waist band of your shorts- which were actually a pair of Nam-gyu’s boxers- to feel you against his palms entirely- he honestly wished you weren’t even wearing those stupid fucking boxers, they just get in the way. He’s pulling your ass back onto his hardening cock, “I know right…” he hums back in response to Nam-gyu who’s still using one hand to hold your throat while the other works to roughly grope at your breasts.

Thanos begins to grind his erection on your ass, you can only begin to breath heavier when you feel the thick heat of his cock begin to grow against your back. “Cute little thing just loves being man handled…” Thanos mocks into your ear. “Bet she’s already dripping just by us fondling her a bit, so easy…” he adds, you can hear the mocking pout in his voice although you can’t see his face.

Nam-gyu is staring at you like you’re an ancient greek statue of a long forgotten goddess that he wants to devote himself to and devour, and you can only imagine that Thanos facial expression is similar. “Of course she is…” Nam-gyu hums, his hand pulls away from your breast, pulling your nipple with as he does.

You bite down on your bottom lip harder, your eyes squeeze shut and you let out a soft moan. It makes both of them become infinitely harder. As Nam-gyu releases your nipple, Thanos is leaning further over your shoulder. They both watch hungrily as the flesh bounces back to your chest, jiggling a bit before settling back into place. “Why don’t you check? Check to see how wet her slutty pussy is just from us barely messin’ with her.” Thanos directs at Nam-gyu.

Thanos is pulling away quickly working to pull your (his) shirt over your head. When the shirt’s is thrown off to the side, Thanos’ hand replaces Nam-gyu’s on your throat, pulling you back into him. His mouth is on your neck, teeth biting into the flesh. His other tattooed hand is attaching to the swell of your breasts his thumb rubbing over your nipples before pinching.

At the same time one of Nam-gyu’s hands is gripping at your hip and the other is slipping his hand down into the waistband of the boxers you’re wearing. His hand molds to your pussy, letting out a low growl when he feels how wet you’re becoming.

“She’s fucking soaked…” he directs towards Thanos, you can tell by his voice that with his discovery, a new level of hunger is reached within the dark haired male. Nam-gyu moves his hand on your hip reaches up and pulls one of Thanos’ hand off your breasts, “outta my way.” He grumbles before his mouth is around your nipple.

Thanos is behind you, grumbling under his breath, his cock rutting into your back harder, “fuckin’ selfish.” He scolds Nam-gyu. He releases his hand on your throat to drop it to the breast that his counterpart wasn’t occupying, “yer already playin with her pussy, bro, c’mon.” He continues. It only makes your chest heave faster. Something about them fighting over you always made your heart and pussy flutter.

Nam-gyu’s mouth always was, and currently is relentless. He’s sucking your nipple into his mouth and moaning into your flesh like he’s in heaven. His fingers are practically finger painting with your arousal, smearing the syrupy liquid that is gushing out of you around your cunt and thighs. “Mhm…” Nam-gyu responds, mouth still attached to your breast. He pulls off with a wet pop, looking up to Thanos who was still leaning over your shoulder “And she’s soooo fuckin’ wet dude…such a messy fuckin’ pussy.” Nam-gyu teases, knowing it would only piss Thanos off that he wasn’t tasting or feeling your sweet cunt like Nam-gyu was.

Nam-gyu’s fingers worked magic, playing with your folds and coaxing more and more sweet and wetness to drip out of your cunt. He’s practically massaging your pussy, moaning into your tits as he savors the soft feeling of your soaking cunt on his fingers. You’re a panting mess against Thanos, soft moans beginning to slip through your lips.

“Oh fuck you…” Thanos seethes at Nam-gyu, taking his irritation out on you- squeezing harder at your breast and grinding his hard cock against your ass. “I can’t wait any longer. I needa taste ‘er.” Thanos growls, lightly shoving you forward into Nam-gyu as he begins to move out from behind you, scooting on his knees around the bed. “Finally somethin’ we agree on.” Nam-gyu scoffs with a laugh.

It’s a skillfully rehearsed set of movements, one they’ve done hundreds of times. Thanos pushes you forward, Nam-gyu pulls you into him, removing his hand out of the boxers you wore and pulling them down your thighs. The boxers you wore are thrown haphazardly across the room. The raven haired male is then pushing you back onto the bed, your head hits the pillows. Thanos soon joins Nam-gyu in front of you.

They each take one of your ankles in their hands. Their hands mirror each other as they slide down your legs. At this point you know you’re fucking drenched, it’s embarrassing really. And as they look down at you like two wolves ready to pounce on a fawn you’re whimpering eyes frantically darting between the two, not being able to figure out where to focus.

They’re pushing your thighs open, spreading you wide, your glistening cunt on full display for them. “Oh-ho…” Thanos chuckles, “you were right, pretty thing’s dripping for us..” his hand comes to cup your pussy, grinding his palm into your clit. He exhilerated by your sloppy state, your thighs and pubic bone covered in your own arousal thanks to Nam-gyu’s earlier work. “‘Gyu did a good job huh? His fingers feel good?” Thanos muses down to you, his tattooed middle finger beginning to trace around the outside of your cunt. You twitch against his hand, the way your pussy clenches with the minimal attention makes the both of him draw in sharp breaths.

“Mhm..” you whine out in response to Thanos your eyes trained on him as you bite your lip and nod, your hips canting up into his touch trying to get him to touch where you needed it. Your eyes dart over to Nam-gyu who’s licking his lips, hand gripping at your one of your inner thighs, thumb pulling your cunt open for them to see you better. “Made me feel so good.” You direct towards Nam-gyu. His yes look up to you, a soft smile spreading across his lips at the praise- in an instant the hungry, devious grin is back.

They seem to think the same thing, they’re both laying down on the bed, their faces becoming level with your cunt. Nam-gyu is the first to touch you again, his hand coming up to rest on your pubic bone, hand turning down, his thumb and pointer finger coming to spread you nice ‘n wide. It’s a beautiful sight, pretty pink cunt just drooling milky white arousal that spills down to your ass.

“Fucking Christ….” Thanos says with a wide grin, the hand around your thigh gripping harder, he’s looking at your pussy like it’s the million dollar jackpot at the casino or a free ounce of weed. “Perfect fucking cunt..” Nam-gyu muses, his eyes staring at your pussy hungrily, his fingers pinching together slightly causing you to whimper and arch into his touch.

“You needy, baby? Wan’ us to eat your pretty ‘lil pussy?” Thanos asks, you let out a breathless laugh, pushing yourself up on your elbows to look down at the perfect view below you. “F-fuck yes. P-please I need it. Need both of you…” You beg them desperately. They seem to look at each other for a moment before either agreeing your begging was good enough or they just couldn’t wait any longer.

The feeling of both their tongues meeting your cunt at the same time is exhilarating. They’ve done it plenty of times before but you’ve never gotten used to it. They both watch you out differently, leaving you with two different patterns lapping greedily at your pussy. Your hands are gripping the sheets of the bed beside you in a white-knuckled grip. The obscene sounds of your wet pussy and they’re slurping is sure to be heard through the walls of nam-gyu’s apartment.

They’re messy, unforgiving. Their tongues intertwine on top of your clit. Both pairs of lips wrapping around the bud. You can tell they’re just as fucked out as you are, their eyes peer up at you from between your legs, taking in every one of your reactions. It’s a view you always will think about, both of their faces buried deep in your cunt, noses bumping against your clit in alternate movements.

You’re crying out, stomach tensing. Fighting your head from falling back in ecstasy on the pillows, you really don’t want to look away from the two men who are slurping at your messy cunt like your arousal is the elixir of life. “H-holy f-fuck…” you gasp out, hips grinding up into their mouths. You can feel the vibrations of their laughs, it only sends more shocks of pleasure through your body. Thanos pulls away, leaning his face against your thigh, Nam-gyu wastes no time to fill in his place, his mouth engulfing you- tongue thrusting into your tight head.

“Mhm…” Thanos coos at you, his eyes trained on the way Nam-gyu messily tongue fucks you. “So fuckin messy…” he mocks, “you hear how loud your pussy is? Needed us so bad, huh, princess?” Thanos asks, Nam-gyu’s eyes open again and lock with yours, wanting to see your reaction. Your eyebrows are upturned, your pillowy lips wet and swollen, heaving breaths causing your breasts to jiggle with each exhale. “F-fuck ohmygod ‘Gyu..” you cry out, “y-yes needed you two so fuck- so fucking bad.” You finish.

Thanos is leaning back down, shoving Nam-Gyu to the side so he can get his own fill. Thanos is always so much more erratic than Nam-gyu. While Nam-Gyu eats you out like a dog lapping at water on a hot day, long, languid, deep strokes of his tongue trying to savor the taste of you, Thanos eats your cunt like a man starved. It’s fast paced, messy, and he’s all over you. He’s even pulling back to spit on your puffy cunt before going back in for seconds

Nam-gyu watches Thanos, his face wet by your arousal, “Such a whore…” he says, even with the harsh pet name, there’s an odd softness to his voice, he’s praising you. His hand reaching up to your face, his middle and ring finger pulling at your bottom lip. You knew what to do, your lips part sucking in his fingers. “Mhm…” he says nodding at you as your tongue swirls around his digits, the pads of his fingers pushing at your tongue, “so good f’us, smart girl knows what she needs to do….” He adds.

The purple haired rapper is pulling away from your cunt, your clit sucked into his lips as he does. You’re crying around Nam-Gyu’s fingers, eyes rolling back at the wet ‘pop’ that sounds through the room as Thanos releases your clit. “We’ve trained her well.” He mumbles against your pussy. You’re shaking against the bed, whining around Nam-gyu’s fingers. His fingers pull themselves from your mouth, wet with your saliva. He’s quickly settling back down next to Thanos, his fingers beginning to play with your puffy cunt. Your head kicks back onto the pillow as you moan out a mix of both their names.

You can hear Thanos chuckle darkly and you’re weakly pulling your head off the pillow to look down. They both have their cheeks rested against one of your thighs, just staring at the way your cunt continuously gushes thick streams of your arousal, clenching impatiently. “Ya’ didn’t even have to wet your fingers…she’s already so fuckin wet…” Thanos hisses through grit teeth, like your pussy is the most delicious sight he could ever lay his eyes upon. “Just wanted your fingers in her throat you pervert.” He laughs, looking over to Nam-gyu with a wide grin.

“Can you blame me? You seen the way she looks at you with your cock shoved down her throat, ‘s the same look.” Nam-gyu scoffs, his fingers teasing your entrance. You’re trying to grind down into his fingers, wanting your cunt to finally be full but the weight of their heads on your thighs keeps you from moving.

They either seem to have come to the conclusion they teased you enough or have waited long enough because in a second Nam-gyu’s fingers are deep within your spongy walls and both their tongues were back on your clit. Your back arches off the bed, your head tilting heavenward as you let out a choked sob. They don’t ease you into it, no they’ve been fucking you- ruining you- for well over a year now they know you can take it. And with the weed coursing through their system their mind is only set on one thing and that is feeling you, tasting you, as you cum on their tongues.

It’s so fucking filthy, the sounds that come from in between your legs only turn you on more. Nam-gyu’s fingers are pistoning into your cunt, scissoring themselves inside you and reaching places you know your fingers never could. He knows you like the back of his hand, knows exactly where to curl his fingers to brush against that spongy spot inside you that makes you see stars. Nam-gyu pulls away from your cunt, his fingers never ceasing. Thanos wastes no time in shifting over the slightest bit to fully coat your throbbing clit with the soft, wet warmth of his tongue.

“Ya’ know how much of a slut you are?” Nam-gyu hums, dark eyes watching as his fingers disappear into your leaking hole, pushing out more of your arousal onto the bed and observing how Thanos’ lips suck on your clit, tongue playing with it in swiveling motions. “Letting two men eat your depraved cunt…” The black haired male chides. Your eyebrows are upturned, your wide eyes looking at him with a fucked out haze to them. You’re just nodding alone to his words dumbly, hips grinding down on his fingers as you let out choked ‘uh-huh!’s. “And you just love it.” His eyebrow quirks up when he feels you tighten at his words, “yeeeahhh you do…can feel you squeezing me pretty girl.” He muses, beginning to curl his fingers upward in a devine, fast paced curling motion that makes the wet ‘schlick, schlick, schlick” sound that comes from your cunt become even louder.

Thanos chuckled against your cunt, pulling off of you. Nam-gyu immediately takes his place, his fingers and mouth working at your raw pussy desperate to have you cum on his tongue. Thanos is sitting up and leaning over you, laughing when he sees how your head is tilted back and your eyes are screwed shut in ecstasy. He grips your chin, hard, yanking you to face him. Your eyes shoot open to look at him, your body jerking upwards with every harsh thrust of Nam-Gyu’s fingers. “Ohhhh….” Thanos lets out in a low hum, “you’re close aren’t you? Gonna cum f’us?” He asks.

You’re babbling incoherently at this point, the way Nam-gyu is sucking at your cunt as his fingers burry themselves deep in your twitching walls makes you not be able to even think straight. Thanos is laughing, his hand coming up to connect with the side of your face in a harsh slap. It wasn’t hard, it was enough to sting, and fuck, did it make your cunt throb. You can tell Nam-gyu feels it because he scoffs against your pussy, letting out a muffled ‘filthy fuckin slut’ against your puffy folds when he feels you tighten around his fingers when you’re slapped.

Thanos hand goes back to gripping your chin after the slap, shaking your head around in a degrading manner “Answer me sweetheart. We haven’t even fucked ya’ yet and you’re already acting like a brainless whore. C’mon now, tell ‘Gyu how good he’s doin’, gonna make you cum huh?” The purple haired man growls.

“F-fuck y-yes! Feels, oh shit, feels so fucking good, ‘m g-gonna, ohmygod.” Your eyes are fluttering back as the heat in your lower stomach grows almost painful, your words cut off by choked sobs, Thanos is reaching his free hand down to push on your lower stomach, a high-pitched squeal falling out of your lips as you’re hurled towards your orgasm.

“O-oh fuck! ‘m cumming! fuckfuckfuck!!” Your words are slurred and babbled, your eyes screwing shut as you’re cumming hard. You can hear the wet gush of your cunt spraying down Nam-Gyu’s hand, drenching the sheets below you, and he’s drinking you up for all your worth, practically sucking your orgasm out of you.

“Oho! There you go! Fuck you’re makin such a mess.” Thanos praises, eyes never straying from the view of you soaking Nam-gyu’s face. You’re thrashing against the bed, hips rutting into his face as he greedily swallows your cum. You have to reach a hand up and push at his head, his lips still wrapped around your clit even after your orgasm is over. When he pulls his face up you whine breathlessly- he’s covered. His face, neck, and chest are soaked with droplets of your arousal.

“Could fuckin’ eat your sweet pussy all day..” Nam-gyu says breathlessly as his dark eyes look down to see the mess he’s made of you. Your cunt is raw and puffy, coated in your arousal and cream they worked out of you. Nam-gyu is reaching into his back pocket with one hand and using the other to spread you open so he can see your pretty pussy entirely. His and comes back around, pulling out his phone and opening the camera to take a couple pictures of his artwork. You’re whining in protest- though you really love when they do that, you know they’re only ever shared between the two of them. Both of them have albums of pictures of you once they’re through with you- they have to have things to look at if you’re not around!!

You’re pretty sure they plan out every time they’re going to fuck you. It’s like they meet before and type out an itinerary of who gets to fuck your cunt when and who’s taking your throat. Like they plan a play by play so when it comes down to it they’re not wasting any time.

You see Nam-gyu typing and then hear Thanos phone go off a moment later. They’re both maneuvering back down to your cunt, tongues going back and enveloping your pussy. You cry out, entirely overstimulated at the moment but they have to clean you up!!

They’re pulling away from your cunt in a mess of spit and saliva, tongues hanging out like dogs panting. Thanos is looking at your fucked out form when Nam-gyu goes back in for seconds (thirds.), his lips wrapped around your clit and his tongue working against it. You’re moaning out broken syllables of their names, hips grinding against his tongue. Thanos looks down annoyed at Nam-gyu, obviously straying from whatever plan they had made up.

Thanos’ painted nails are tangling themselves into Nam-gyu’s hair, yanking him off your cunt roughly. You and the male between your thighs let out echoing moans. “Quit being greedy.” He scolds at Nam-gyu,

You’re still coming down from your orgasm as they bicker, you don’t think you could ever get used to the both of them eating you out at once. Your cunt is still leaking syrupy cum, a thick trail of the creamy arousal beginning to drop down to your ass. Nam-gyu fights against Thanos’ hold to drop back down and begin devouring the rest of your cum. He’s moaning in your pussy, the taste of your orgasm one of his worst addictions, he could never get enough and always needed a fix. Thank god you were a timely dealer!

He’s pulling away from your cunt and smirking, “Couldn’t let it go to waste, bro…’s a delicacy.” Nam-Gyu says turning back to Thanos with a shit eating grin. In no time, They’re crawing off the bed, ridding themselves of their pants and boxers, beginning to maneuver you expertly. Nam-gyu grabs a hold of your ankles, spinning you horizontally across the bed. Thanos is then gripping your wrists and pulling you towards him, your head hanging off the bed.

You’re looking at him upside down as his tattooed hand begins to fist his hard cock over your face, his other hand reaching down to slap one of your breasts sharply then grabbing at the flesh. You’re whining out looking up at him, his grin is nearly sadistic as you know what’s about to come next.

Since this arrangement has been going on for a long while now, they’ve come to have favorite positions for both of them to use you in. It was a long and arduous task to try and find the happy neutral ground. Hey! No one ever said having two boyfriends was easy work.

This position happened to be one they compromised on. Thanos loved seeing the imprint of his cock sliding in and out of your throat, he loved being able to choke you. And Nam-gyu loved nothing more than to be able to see your cunt stretched out around your cock and your tits bounce as he fucked you. And you? Well, you were getting absolutely destroyed by them either way so you were just happy they found something that they didn’t have to fight over.

You feel the bed shift under the weight of Nam-gyu crawling back onto the bed. He’s kneeling between your legs, hands reaching down to your hips to lift you up, your legs resting limply over his hips. You can feel the weight of his heavy cock against your stomach. His ring clad hands are running up and down your thighs.

“Been waiting for this all day…could never get enough of this tight cunt…” Nam-gyu growls, looking up to Thanos as he nods in agreement, his hips beginning to move back and forth to grind his cock in the mess that was spread around your cunt and pubic bone. The underside of his dick catching your clit with each motion.

“Best pussy and mouth out there, aren’t we lucky….” Thanos praises, eyes flicking down to you. He quirks up an amused eyebrow when he sees your desperate state, your mouth hung open nice and wide, already waiting for his cock. He releases your breast from his grip, Nam-gyu’s hands now sliding up your stomach to replace them.

Thanos’ hand that isn’t occupied by fisting his cock runs up to your neck, dragging a squeezed hand up the expanse of your throat. “What a greedy slut you are, beautiful..” Thanos mocks, “Just had two men devour your sloppy pussy and now you just can’t wait to get stuffed…”

“Wouldn’t be nice to keep her waiting, would it?” Nam-gyu hums, hand coming to splay itself on your pubic bone, thumb reaching down to flick at your clit. You can feel him begin to rub the leaking tip of his cock between your folds, a breathy falling from your lips.

“Yeahhh…” Thanos grins watching as Nam-gyu teases your cunt, “Wants it bad doesn’t she…” he continues, his thumb pinching at your pert nipple as he lowers his hefty cock to your face, you know exactly what to do. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth beginning to press open mouthed kisses down his thick shaft, lathing your tongue over the hot skin as you twitch against Nam-gyu.

Nam-gyu pushes the tip of his bulbous cock-head into your sopping walls, it’s a stretch you don’t think you could ever be prepared for no matter how many times he’s fucked you. You let out a cracked whine, the blissful fullness of his cock entering you being quickly ripped away as he pulls back out. Maybe it’s some kind of obscure fetish he had, but he loved just sinking his fat cock-head into your tight cunt, watching as you greedily suck him in and consume his tip in a wet, sopping warmth. He’s edging himself while edging you.

Thanos laughs as you moan out, head falling further off the bed as you throw it back in pleasure. “So mean…” he directs at the raven haired man who fucks you shallowly, “She jus’ wants to be stuffed and you’re teasing her..” Thanos says, you can tell he really doesn’t feel bad for you, in fact he likes watching as Nam-gyu rocks into your cunt, he loves being able to see your face twist into a contorted expression of bliss.

“‘M not stopping you from fucking her slutty mouth..fill ‘er up if she’s wants to be stuffed so bad..” Nam-gyu grunts, pulling all the way out and slapping his thick cock against your weeping cunt with a wet ‘plap plap plap’ before beginning to sink back into you.

And only a few moments later, stuffed you are. Thanos is balls deep in your throat, heavy balls hanging over your eyes as he slides his cock in and out of your tight throat. Your face, his balls, and anything in the vicinity is covered in your spit. It’s sloppy. Debauched. Hes thrusting into your throat without abandon, one of his hands coming down to caress your throat feeling the bulge of his thick cock slide down your esophagus. You’re helplessly gagging and moaning around him, fountains of spit bubbling out of your throat- making it all the more sloppy which only urges Thanos to fuck your throat harder. “Takin me so well…letting me use this fuckin’ throat.” He growls, “Can feel how fuckin’ deep I am ohmygod…” he’s hissing, his words punctuated by him grabbing your throat harder, his teeth clenched.

Nam-gyu finally sinks fully into you, wasting no time to begin thrusting into your sopping cunt. It’s damn near violent, every thrust jolting you forward, shoving Thanos’ cock deeper into your throat. All you can do is let out choked muffled moans. “‘Gyu makin’ you feel good, sweetheart?”

You let out a muffled ‘mhm! mhm!” The vibrations making Thanos stiffen. His hand grips harder at your throat, “easy, girl..fuck!…Fuckin do that and I’ll cum too quick” Thanos is growling, beginning to choke you with his hand as his cock stuffs your throat.

Between your legs Nam-gyu’s hips jackhammer into yours at a damn near evil pace. Your pussy is stretched impossibly wide, yet you still grip his thick length with a tightness that could fool him into thinking he’s never ruined your sweet cunt before. It’s one of the reasons he can never get enough. Anytime he draws his hips back a streak of milky-white coats his cock, forming a ring as the base of his dick anytime he slams back into you. He reaches so deep, filling your cunt until you’re moaning out mindlessly, though your sounds come out choked and garbled around Thanos’ cock that’s shoved in your mouth.

Thanos’ hand was still on your throat, his head kicked back as his hips thrust brutally into the tight cavern of your throat. Your tongue sliding along the top of his cock as his tip bullies its way down your throat. You’re gagging and spitting around his length, choked moaned muffled by the thick dick sliding up and down your throat. “F-fuck.” He stutters out in a breathless laugh, a blissful grin stretched across his lips. “Such a good cock sucker, so fuckin sloppy.” He says pulling all the way out of your throat with a sickening wet sound. You’re gasping for air, a messy string of spit coming out of your mouth and connecting your mouth to the tip of his throbbing cock. His hand releases his harsh grip on your throat, hand moving up and down the expanse of your neck in a soothing motion. “Look at you Señorita…” he says in a proud tone, “such a beautiful sight..” he hums.

You then watch from an upside down view as he fumbles for his phone that was on the ground. You se him unlock it and presumably go to the camera app. He comes back closer to you, resting his heavy cock on your face. Your suspicions are proved correct when the flash of his camera flicks on, you only get impossibly righter- clenching around Nam-gyu who lets out a choked, “slut loves to be filmed”

Thanos is pointing the phone down at you as he slides his cock past your pillowy lips. He watches through the phone screen as he sinks deeper into your mouth, you’re gagging around him as he begins to push past the tight ring of your throat. “Mhm…” he mumbles to himself, eyes trained on the bulge that begins to show in your throat on the image displayed on his phone. His hand is back on your throat, squeezing it before trailing down, his phone camera following his movements. He leans over you, his cock sinking deeper into your throat. His hand grips at your tits that bounce with Nam-gyu’s thrusts. He then pans the camera up, catching how Nam-gyu fucks into your cunt.

The corner of Nam-gyu’s bottom lip is caught in his teeth, one of his hands is around your hip, holding you up slightly as he thrusts into you, the other is reaching up to take his hair back and out of his face before dropping back down to his side. The wet sound of skin slapping on skin is resounding through the room, most certainly being picked up by the camera recording you three. Thanos cannot deny how fucking hot the view is that the phone camera captures. He watches on through the screen as Nam-gyu reaches his free up and begins to play with your clit. You sob out in pleasure round Thanos’ cock. The vibrations cause him to nearly fall over, he has to stop his recording abruptly- throwing his phone to the side before pulling out of your throat.

“C’mon man I gotta fuck her cunt.” Thanos nearly begs Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu thrusts into your pussy once more, sinking balls deep in you, wanting to hear you cry out for him without Thanos’ cock muffling the sounds. And that you do, it’s a choked, wracked whine, it’s a cute sound that has both of them groaning in response. Nam-gyu is pulling out of you, looking down to see how your cunt holds the shape of his tick cock for a second before desperately clenching around nothing. “Fine, fine….i wanna feel her choke on my cock too anyway.” The longer haired male is scoffing.

Once again, they’re moving you with a swiftness that leaves you no time to process what position you’re in until you feel the tips of their cocks touch you. You’re on all fours, back arched so prettily. Thanos is behind you painted nails digging into the flesh of your ass as he rocks his dick against you. Nam-gyu is in front of you, one hand gripping the base of his cock as he runs his leaking tip against your lips- smearing his pre-cum on your lips like a new personalized lipgloss- his other hand gripping your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

In tandem they’re sinking back inside you. Your moans muffled by Nam-gyu’s cock. Despite being stretched out by Nam-gyu fucking you previously, you’re were still gripping down on Thanos’ cock like a vice. His hips are drawing back, watching the way your cunt sucks him back into your tight walls. Your eyes look up at Nam-gyu his head tilted back and his mouth hung open singing praises of your name as your tongue swirled around him.

“Still so fuckin’ tight…” Thanos growls, his hips slapping into your ass violently, his painted nails leaving crescent moon shaped imprints in the far of your ass. One of his hands releases its grip to smack your ass, it’s hard and painful, making you sob out and choke around Nam-gyu’s cock. “Dirty fuckin’ bitch.” The male in front of you growls, feeling your moans around his dick when Thanos spanks you. It’s resounding through your head as deep rumble that only makes your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

“Creamin’ all over my fuckin’ cock.” You hear Thanos growl from above you, his thrust becoming rougher, jolting you forward and further down Nam-Gyu’s cock. You feel one of Thanos’ hand grip at one of the globes of your ass, pushing up and spreading you so he can see the mess that is your pussy. Anytime he draws his hips back, sticky strings of your thick arousal coat his thighs and pelvis, dripping down to his heavy balls that slap against your clit with every mind numbing thrust. “Just love getting ruined by two fuckin’ cocks, don’t’cha pretty girl?” Thanos says, and you feel him spit downwards, the warm saliva dripping down the valley of your ass and mixing with the mess between your thighs as he pile drives into you.

Nam-gyu’s hand that holds your tightens, a signal for you to respond. You let out a muffled ‘mhm!’ your eyes fluttering closed and screwing shut as you feel yourself about to cum. Every time Thanos thrusts into you the fat tip of his cock brutally fucks into your g-spot. “Oh you’re close…fuckin milkin’ me” Thanos growls lowly, your eyes are welling with tears at this point. Thanos looks up at the black haired male in front of him, “she already squirted and she still wants to cum again…how fuckin’ greedy.. makin’ us do all the work.” He finishes, one of his hands reaching diagonally across your back to grip at your ass.

“You’re right..” Nam-gyu responds, pushing your mouth impossibly deeper down his shaft, your tongue lapping at his balls. “Make her to the work this time…” And you can hear the smirk in his voice.

Thanos nods in response, his hand coming down to slap your ass, “You heard him. Work for it.” He hisses. “Wanna cum so bad? Fuck yourself on my cock like the slut you are.” The purple haired male finishes in a deep rasp from behind you.

You can do nothing but obey, lest you don’t want to cum. You’re grinding back onto him, looking up at Nam-Gyu as he releases the make shift ponytail he has your hair in and begins to cradle your face in both his hands, “C’mon you can do better than that….” Nam-gyu says lowly, looking down at you, beginning to fuck his cock down your throat, “Don’t you wanna cum? You’re not actin’ like it…” he says, you know it’s a threat.

You begin to fuck your self back onto the purple hairs man behind you, a loud ‘slap’ of wet skin resounds through the room every time your ass connects to the fronts of his thighs, the flesh recoiling against his skin. “That’s it. F-fuck.” Thanos hisses out, his hand on your ass moving with the flesh that jiggles each time you sink him balls deep, “Look at that fuckin’ ass…” he grumbles in a low voice, more to himself than anyone, but Nam-Gyu hums in approval as he watches on, low moans of praise falling from his lips as you suck him down eagerly, moaning around him with more ferocity.

“Yeah…you’re gonna cum, can fuckin feel it, go on make a mess f’me, pretty girl.” Thanos says, his hand wrapping around you to play with your throbbing clit in erratic circles. The stimulation immediately throws you over the edge, you’re clenching down on Thanos’ cock so hard it stills his movements. Nam-Gyu pulls out of your throat, his hand fisting his cock as you gasp, catching your breath. Immediately you’re moaning and whining out, your hips are simultaneously thrusting back onto the thick length in sloppy motions and trying to bring your clit into his fingers.

You’re orgasm sprays out of you in a violent fountain, and Thanos adjusts his hands to grip both of your hips, brutally pulling you back against him and fucking your cum out of you in gushing spurts. You’re sobbing out a mix of their names, babbled and choked as you see stars. Your breath is heaving, you would have fallen down if it wasn’t for the both of them reaching down to hold you up.

And as fucked out as you are, overstimulated beyond belief- you can only think of the fact they have yet to cum. You look at them desperately, like it’s the one thing you truly need to be satisfied after all this. Your adrenaline keeps you coherent enough to keep wanting more. You wouldn’t be satiated until you felt them cum on you or in you- you never were.

They’re working together to pull you off the bed and you follow excitedly, being this position all too many times- it was one of your favorites. As you situate yourself on your knees in front of them and look up at them teary eyed and fucked out- hair matted and sticking to your face and lips swollen from taking both of them in your mouth- they’re fisting their cocks over you, singing praises of your form as you kneel below them.

“So fuckin pretty, cryin’ f’us.” Nam-gyu grunts out, squeezing the tip of his throbbing cock before working to fist the rest of his length. “Such a good girl…knew just what to do…” Thanos mumbles, his words broken by a moan, “fuck…look at you kneelin’ like the good whore ya are.” He finishes. You’re addicted to the way both their fists work furiously against their cocks, each having their own rhythm and particular way of doing it.

“Gonna be a good girl and let us paint y’er face?” Nam-Gyu says, quirking an eyebrow up at you. When you nod and part your lips, sticking out your tongue they both groan. “F-fuck you look so good, wanna record this.” Thanos grunts, Nam-gyu seems to have the same idea as they’re both reaching over and grabbing their phones that were scattered about the bed. They’re quickly returning in front of you, looming over you as they work their hands along their cocks above you.

You look up at them, your face stained with tears, eyes red, puffy and covered in mascara- but you still eagerly await what they’re gonna give you with your tongue out. Your eyes are squinting against the harsh light of the flash from both your phones. It should make you embarrassed that you’re letting them record you in this state but you’re not- you love it.

“Yeeeahhh….” Thanos growls, his hand fisting his cock rapidly, “that’s it pretty girl, you look so fuckin good.” He praises, his voice becoming shaky. You look over to Nam-Gyu who is obviously just as close to cumming, his hand jerking his thick length, using your spit as lube. “Gonna look so fuckin’ good covered in our cum, princess.” Nam-Gyu is hissing out.

You nod, moaning out, wanting nothing more than to be painted by the both of them. Thanos kicks his head back, moaning out your name in a low hiss, his cum beginning to fall to your face in pearly white ropes. Nam-gyu is right behind him, phone in his hand shaking slightly as he jerks his cock over your face.

You can feel the alternating ropes of their warm cum covering your face. Your eyes shutting as you collect what you could on your tongue. You feel a large drop land on one of your eyelids, thankful you closed your eyes, but something about the raunchiness of it just makes you sigh out.

They’re both stepping forward, placing the tips of their cocks on your tongue. Like the good girl you are, you’re eagerly cleaning them up. Tongue rolling between the two thick cocks and taking them into your mouth, you open your one eye- looking up to the camera as you make more of a show of stretching your mouth around the both of them, sucking them both dry.

They’re ending the video and throwing their phones to the ground almost simultaneously, their chests heaving with heavy breaths. When they tilt their heads back down to look at the mess they made, you’re swiping a finger across your face to collect the mix of their cum and suck it off your fingers. You smile up innocently at them and they both groan, smiling down at you.

Nam-Gyu is picking you up off the floor like you’re a rag doll, “you’re gonna be the death of us” he chuckles. He’s throwing you onto his bed and you bounce softly on the plush mattress letting out a giggle. You didn’t even realize Thanos had stepped away until he’s hovering over your face from the side of the bed and wiping you clean with a cool towel.

You can help but giggle and smile as he does it. It’s so odd, they just fucked you like a whore and now they’re doting on you. Nam-gyu is filling up your water bottle that you kept on the bedside table and begging to roll another blunt while Thanos is trying to fight your giggles to keep you still enough to clean you. Something he knows you love after being so completely ruined, it allows you to relax.

They really were the best boyfriends. You really don’t know what you’d do without them and you’re glad that you’re able to see the two varying sides of the both of them.

Buut…They never fail to remind you of their other side of them, the raunchy personalities that originally drew you towards them. Like days later with your out to dinner with your friends and you see they both send a couple videos in your group chat, and you open it unexpectedly to see the most sinful pictures and videos- trying desperately to shield the very obvious image that blares across your screen.

Up next on requests I got another thangyu non-squid games request focused on silky dynamics of the relationship

After that is more thangyu with thick!reader smut. Including double penetration n thick thigh love!

3rd in line we have a namgyu smut with naive! / innocent! Reader >:)

4th we got a new ask for a dead beat baby daddy! Namgyu x reader smut involving hate fucking

As always thank you all for reading and requesting! It’s always so much fun getting to interact with you guys and write them!!! - love always <3 kiwi

[melosliving]

hi! I was wondering if you could write a story about aaron and reader are arguing because reader is jealous about him having to kiss a girl in a movie he was doing and he had to prove to them that he loves them and only them. please and thank you

Let me cook !! I hope you’ll like ! (I felt free to add smut to it because why notttt)

aaron pierre x actress!reader

Warnings : +18 (MDNI), nasty smutty, established relationship, jealousy, cranky reader

It’s been a long day for both of you. The set was chaotic, the director demanding, and the long hours had made you cranky. But what truly sent your heart spiraling was the news you’d just heard.

Your man had to kiss another woman for a scene in his movie. You hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation, but as you stood in the doorway of his trailer, the words hit you like a ton of bricks. Your stomach twisted, your chest tightened. You knew it was part of his job, but that didn’t stop the jealousy that clawed at you, irrational but raw.

Now, sitting in his car, you can barely look at him. The tension between you two is palpable, and the silence is thick, uncomfortable.

Aaron looks over at you, his jaw clenched, but his eyes soft. “Baby, talk to me. I don’t like when you’re like this.”

You scoff, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, staring out the window. “Like what?”

He takes a breath, turning fully towards you now. “You’re upset. I can tell. I don’t know why, but I can feel it.” You huff, shaking your head, but you can’t hide the hurt in your voice. “I just… I don’t get why you had to kiss her. I know it’s your job, but—”

His hands fly up in frustration, but not in anger. It’s more like he’s frustrated at himself for making you feel this way. “No, listen to me, okay? That kiss meant nothing. Nothing at all.”

“I know it was just acting,” you say, voice small. “But still… You kissed her. I don’t know if my weak ass can handle that."

He reaches over and gently places his hand on your knee, his touch warm and grounding. “Baby, I’ve been kissing you for years. There’s only one person who has my heart, and that’s you. No matter what’s in the script, no matter what I have to do on set, you’re the one I’m coming home to.”

You glance at him, searching his face, looking for any sign of insincerity. But all you see is love. His eyes are soft, pleading, and filled with everything you need to hear.

“And I’m sorry I made you feel this way,” he continues, his voice low. “You mean everything to me. I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t want anyone else.”

Tears start to sting your eyes as his words hit you. Slowly, you reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “I’m sorry, too papa,” you whisper, gently playing with his fingers. “I didn’t mean to be jealous like this. I just… I love you so much. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching you like I do.”

Aaron leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “And you never will. Because no matter what, it’s you and me. Always.”

Now, as the rest of the trip was quiet, the only audible sound being the radio, you thought things had calmed down between you. How wrong you were. You didn’t even the time to step out of your shoes that aaron took you to y’all’s bedroom.

"Aaron- what are you doing ?" You asked, following him as he entered the room, closing the door behind him.

The tension between y’all thickened, and even if the only source of light in the room was the sunset’s, you could still see aaron slightly tightening his jaw as he looked down at you.

It was like he was actually realizing just how deeply all of this was affecting you. He pulled you closer to his, brushing his lips against your ear. " I’m sorry you felt that way. I need to show you you’re the only one who can have me.”

He never actually felt like this, never been the object of one’s jealousy. But this was nice —apart from the part where it makes you upset– it made him feel even more connected to you.

That’s how he now had you wrapped in his body, almost in his skin. His dick was buried in you so deep, but his fingers were so delicate on your skin, his kisses so gentle. "Papa is so sorry for making you jealous baby, will you forgive him ?" He asks as he fucked himself into your sweet pussy. You felt so good around him, your hips grinding to try to meet his.

"haa– fuck !"

"C’mon tell me bub. You forgive me ?" He asks again, lips against your shoulder. You whine softly, trying to push back against him.

"Yeah baby, you’re forgiven- mh !" You whine. Aaron chuckles a bit before his hands grasp your hips to hold you steady. With one firm thrust, he is breaching your folds and sliding deep inside you. your head dropping to the pillow below you as you whimper through the burn. The stretch burns more then you anticipated, and you hear him groaning softly, which sends another wave of liquid heat rushing through you.

"God you feel so good baby, you take my cock so fucking well." He praises you, gently pulling out to slowly thrust back in. His eyes are locked on the place where you two connect, watching with hooded eyes as his cock disappears inside you.

"Oh my— why are you fucking me like this ?..feels so good.."

"I wish you could see this baby." He praises again through a soft moan, and you drink up every sound he makes. "I’m yours baby, take your dick."

You needed this so bad and you actually loved the fact that you were the only one who could give him this type of relief.

Yours yours yours yours yours. he was yours.

Your forehead presses against the bed, muffled and strangled cries escaping your lips every time aaron hits deep inside you. His cock stretches you perfectly, and always hits places deep inside you. Places you didn't know existed. Soon you feel your orgasm creeping up on you, almost making you feel lightheaded.

"Please make your pussy cum papa, im so close." You beg, muffling your moans with your palm as he drives his cock into you. You feel sweat covering your entire body and aaron holds your hips with a bruising force. You feel that coil winding tighter and tighter, and you release a high pitched whine when his hand actually snakes around your body to thumb your clit.

"Papa this dick feels so good, soo good baby. Always feels so good, fuck baby I love you," You're not sure what you're saying at this point, an incoherent mess of praises for the man above you. "Nah, this is your dick baby, say it."

"My dick—It’s mine, mine, mine." You repeat mindlessly, pleasure taking over you. "shit, I love you too baby." He answers.

Aaron loved when he could reduce you to incoherent words and disconnected statements because of him. slamming his cock inside you and rolling your clit before you're squeezing around him tightly, your mouth falls open in a silent scream. You cum in hot gushes around him and he can only offer a few more sloppy thrusts before he's cumming with a loud growl, coating your walls in his hot cum.

chest heaving from the exertion, aaron feels more relaxed than he has all day. There's a small smile on your face and your eyes are closed as your legs finally give out and you collapse against the sheets.

"Are you okay bub ?" You hear, and you can't help but smile when you hear that he's panting slightly. You hum with a smile on your face. "I’m sorry i got cranky over this, I love you."

"That’s okay mama. I understand you, but I want you to know I’m yours, only yours."

@ melosliving 2025

[steddieas-shegoes]

guilt fades, scars remain

written as part of @st-loveconfessions february kindness event for today: write a fic based on art! the moment I saw this absolutely stunning art by @stervrucht, I knew I had to get some words out. @runninriot also wrote something inspired by this art and it's just as stunning as the art itself, you can find that here!

rated m | 1031 words | cw: blood and injury | tags: eddie munson lives, steve rescues eddie, eddie has a crush on steve, pre-relationship, open ending but assume they're getting together

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The tears drip. The rain hits the roof. The sweat builds along his hairline.

Eddie’s alone. He’s scared. He’s sick of feeling pain everywhere.

“Eddie?”

The voice is back. He should be happy. Hearing Steve’s voice is a relief compared to what he’s been feeling for so long. He’s not even sure how long he’s been stuck here. Hours, days, weeks?

Years?

“Eddie.”

The voice is clear, but it’s always clear. Sometimes it’s far, sometimes it’s close. It sounds worried, but talking back to it doesn’t help.

He’s sure of only one thing: Steve Harrington’s voice is a balm on his nerves and patience alike. If he can’t have the real Steve saving him, he’s glad he at least has his voice in his ears.

Cool hands are covering his naked chest. It feels so nice, like an ice pack on an injury.

He supposes he does have an injury. Probably a lot if the shooting pains across his side and legs are anything to go off of.

“Eddie, hey.”

Eddie blinks. His vision focuses.

“There you go. Keep your eyes open. I’m getting you out of here.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry we kept you waiting so long.”

Eddie’s got tunnel vision, which is weird for a hallucination. Or maybe it’s not. He’s only done shrooms once and he barely even hallucinated before he passed out.

Eddie reaches one hand up to try to feel if Steve is real. He touches bare skin and he laughs.

“‘S fake.”

Steve’s got a lot of hair on his chest, he remembers from when he jumped into the lake. He remembers thinking how nice it must be to fall asleep on his chest, run his fingers through the soft hair there.

“What’s fake?” Steve asks.

An interactive hallucination is very strange, but it’s a nice distraction from the pain. It fades in and out like the intro and outro to songs. He’s gotta figure out how to put this into music.

“You,” he answers. There’s still no other voices and there’s no way Steve would rescue him alone. No one would let him come down here alone. “Me.”

“We’re not fake, Eddie. I knew we should’ve come back sooner. You’re fuckin’ delirious,” Steve sounds panicked now, and Eddie doesn’t want that. Hallucination Steve should be relaxed.

“Calm. Hurts, but calm.”

He’s being lifted up slowly and he’s sitting for the first time since the bats started trying to eat him. Feels a little weird, something internally screams, and then he realizes he’s actually screaming externally.

Steve’s trying to keep him calm and quiet, shushing him as he pulls him to his shoulder, hand tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s nice, smelling something that’s not the stench of the Upside Down or his own blood. Feeling something human where all he’s known is dirt and ash.

“It’s gonna hurt for a few minutes, but it’ll be worth it,” Steve’s saying in his ear.

Eddie raises an arm. It hurts. It’s not as bad as when he sat up, but it’s more pain than he should be feeling.

He must make a noise because Steve’s burying his nose into Eddie’s hair and it feels intimate in a way that doesn’t belong here. This place is broken, Eddie is broken, and Steve is stable.

“I’m gonna lift you up. Is anything broken?” Steve whispers against the side of his head.

Eddie hopes he remembers all of this. He hopes when he wakes up— if he wakes up— the first thought he has is about Steve touching him like this, making him feel alive and precious, worthy.

He must’ve answered Steve because he feels the ground fall out from under him and then searing pain in his side. Steve’s carrying him and he’s going to black out from the pain.

“Just a few minutes. Just hang on a few minutes. For me, Eddie,.”

Eddie can do anything in his dreams, so he hangs on for a while and then everything goes dark.

++++

“Eddie.”

The voice again.

It’s not clear this time, but he knows it’s Steve.

“Eddie, wake up.”

He blinks his eyes open and immediately closes them again, whining at the obnoxious bright light right in his eyes. If heaven is this bright, he’s not interested.

“Sorry. Let me turn those off.”

Steve’s voice is clearer now, sinking into his brain as the memories start to float back to him. Steve saved him. Steve showed up in the Upside Down shirtless and-

“Where was your shirt?” Eddie asks, voice raspy and trembling. He sounds as weak as he feels.

“My…shirt?” Steve asks.

“Y’were naked,” Eddie continues. “Nipples everywhere.”

Steve lets out a bark of a laugh and Eddie is going to combust. Making Steve laugh might be the best thing he’s ever done in his life…or death, if he’s dead.

“I was using it to stop the blood on your leg,” Steve explains. “It was still bleeding.”

He sounds…haunted.

“Did I die?”

Eddie focuses on Steve, the way he holds himself as if he’s in trouble, the way he won’t look directly at Eddie’s face. He’s guilty, but Eddie can’t imagine why.

“No. I don’t know how, but no.”

“You saved me.”

“I was almost too late.”

Eddie hums in protest. He’s too tired to argue, but he knows he’s right. Steve saved him. It doesn’t matter how long it took, or how many shirts were ruined in the process. He’s alive.

“C’mere,” Eddie whispers.

Steve steps closer. Eddie manages to grip his shirt, not tight, but enough for Steve to look down and then back up, finally settling on his face.

“Y’did good,” Eddie says. He closes his eyes hoping that’ll conserve energy to say what he needs to. “Thank you.”

“Eddie-“

“Sit. Sleep.”

He’s not sure if Steve listens because he’s already drifting back out of consciousness, but he can feel the weight of Steve’s hand in his and he’s pretty sure he’s not gonna let go.

When he wakes up, he still feels Steve’s hand in his.

His eyes flutter open to see Steve asleep in the chair next to his bed.

Shirt on, unfortunately.

[travelingtwentysomething]

Eddie is impressed.

Eddie is half chubbed up.

Eddie realizes Steve is actually sort of intimidating.

Eddie doesn't like feeling like this guy is somehow looking down on him and his antics like he's some spoiled rich brat.

Like Eddie doesn't know the struggle.

Eddie hates Steve.

Steve continues to work for Eddie, ignoring all his moods like a mom ignoring a toddler's tantrum, happily anticipating his needs and being more competent than anyone in his position has any right to be.

Over the first few months After Steve, Eddie's mercurial moods swing wildly from "I'm going to make your life hell until you quit", to "damn this man is so incredibly sexy I want to make him quit his job so I can spoil him".

But at this point, Eddie is spoiled.

Steve gets absolutely everything right- he is perfect.

Eddie spills his coffee on his shirt in the car on his way to the Grammys, his stylist team is having a conniption in the back of the limo-

Steve calmly pulls his backpack into his lap, and out of it comes a tide pen, baby wipes, a portable steamer, and a battery powered blow-dryer. (Who even knew that was a thing?) And in the 20 minute wait in the limo line on the red carpet, Steve has him out of his dress shirt (that's tossed to the side unsalvageable) and the Gucci suit clean and pressed like nothing ever happened. And as an added touch- Steve pulled out a brush and some highlighter to put a dash of glitter on his collarbones, the cleavage above his pecs, and a little dot on each of his abs. So when Eddie steps out of the car he "looks like a wet dream instead of another boring rockstar in a designer suit".

At least that's what Rolling Stone said when the pictures got published all over their website to massive fanfare.

Eventually, Eddie can't help but catch himself smiling in the morning when he wakes up with his first thought being excitement to see Steve and get their day started. Instead of barking orders and tantrums, they somehow get to the point where they're joking with each other and even sharing actual conversations.

Steve becomes so integral to Eddie's brightened mood and new outlook on life, Eddie starts dreading Steve's days off. It's in his contract that any day Eddie isn't scheduled to work an event, a concert, or a studio day, Steve has the option to take a paid day off to catch up on his own life.

So Eddie becomes a workaholic.

If he's not on tour or in the studio, he's got some promo, photoshoot, or work social event scheduled. He's even taken up a modeling contract and become a brand ambassador for Gucci. When that still left a few days free here and there, he started looking into acting gigs.

He had never been so productive, and so astronomically famous.

Eddie's music was also coming easier, Steve was his muse.

Eddie was so inspired he's been cranking out songs so often, and in so many styles and genres, that his publishing deal had quadrupled in value and he's sold more number one hits to other artists over their first year together than Eddie had songs on Corroded Coffin's albums combined.

Steve is with him every step of the way. He never complains, he always has a smile on his face for Eddie, and he tells him all the time how much he seems to have grown in the last year, and how proud he is to watch it all happen for him.

Eddie feels like an asshole.

Eddie is unequivocally and unconditionally in love with Steve.

Eddie is Steve's boss.

No matter how much they act like friends (and occasionally engage in flirty banter) Steve is off limits, because Eddie may be a rotten asshole at his core, but he would never abuse his power like that.

But maybe he already has.

He has ruined Steve's life.

Eddie realizes a few days before their one year anniversary (Eddie is only calling it that in his head, he doesn't want to sound like a psychopath) he has isolated Steve from his own life so much that he hasn't asked for a day off in 6 months.

Steve never seems to take any time for himself anymore. He even has a room at Eddie's house because he spends about 5 nights a week there since Eddie tells him he doesn't want to deal with the chaos it puts his busy and tight schedule into when Steve gets waylaid by his commute in LA traffic.

Steve barely spends more than a few hours at a time away from Eddie, and he only sees his one friend- Chrissy's wife Robin- on nights he's not staying at Eddie's. Which means that commute comes with a side of exhaustion because he always comes back with bruises under his swollen eyes like he'd stayed up too late trying to catch up with his best friend and fit an entire week's worth of socializing squeezed into one or two nights a week.

Eddie wants to be a good person and let go of Steve so he can find a job with a healthier work-life balance, somewhere with a boss that doesn't treat him like a slave to his own whims and fancies, a boss that doesn't secretly hope that one day Steve will fall into his bed and into his arms like this isn't some 50 shades of bullshit arrangement.

Eddie is terrified to lose Steve.

To his horror, the day comes unexpectedly on their anniversary.

Steve gave him a speech about how Steve had loved being a part of Eddie's journey, how he had watched Eddie grow with awe, how he was inspired every day by Eddie's drive, and his art, and his kindness. Steve praised him for the way his attitude about life had taken a 180 turn from when they met a year ago. He thanked Eddie for taking Steve along for the ride, becoming his best friend, and respecting him above all else.

But Steve needed to go. Because he had reached his limit. He had done everything he could for Eddie, but it was time that Steve "joined the real world again and stopped living in a fantasy".

Steve would always be here for Eddie as a friend, but he had to go out and build a life for himself.

Eddie thanked Steve and told him he understood, that he valued Steve's friendship above everything, and that he would be getting the biggest bonus and one hell of a severance package.

Eddie went home to his empty house and drank until he blacked out.

When he woke up his kitchen and living room looked like someone had opened up a rage room and taken a bat to anything that wasn't nailed down. He looked in the corner of the room and saw a bat sticking out of the drywall next to the sliding glass door.

Okay, so he hadn't been robbed.

Then why did it feel like someone had stolen his heart straight out of his chest like a Mortal Kombat Finisher?

When Chrissy walked through his front door just as the afternoon was turning to evening and Eddie was on his third hair-of-the-dog, he didn't even uncurl himself from his fetal position on a couch afloat amongst a sea of glass and wood scraps from what was once a very expensive coffee table.

"Oh you poor, poor-" Chrissy crooned, "stupid fucking idiot." She slapped a pillow so hard down on his head that he was seeing Chrissy's identical twin floating above her for a minute or two.

Eddie sat up, indignant, ready to lay into Chrissy for the assault on his already wounded body and soul, but was thrown back down to the couch by another smack of the pillow, this time to his chest.

Seems like Chrissy really hadn't let herself go since playing herself through college on that softball scholarship.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Chrissy shrieked with fury Eddie had only seen from her once. (Her high school boyfriend, Jason, had gate crashed her wedding and tried to "object" when she was about to say her vows to Robin on the grounds that "Chrissy isn't gay, she's just confused by California's woke agenda and should come home to Indiana with him".)

Eddie threw himself over the back of the couch and landed ungracefully on the hardwood floor, groaning in pain, but happy to have put a couch between him and Chrissy's pillow. He popped his head over the back of the couch and had to duck back down quickly to avoid a rocket from Chrissy's throwing arm.

"Chrissy! What the hell is going on?" Eddie cried from his prone position behind the couch.

"Why don't YOU TELL ME, EDDIE?!" Chrissy screamed. "Steve showed up at mine and Robin's last night bawling his eyes out and he and Robin locked themselves up in our bedroom and I haven't heard anything from either of them for the last 12 hours except for the one time Robin came out to collect the 6 bags of food she ordered from the convenience store at 3 am, and all I could get out of her was that Steve had finally quit."

Eddie popped back up from behind the couch, only to receive a pillow to the dome, a crunch swiftly followed by a groan the only sound he was able to make as he fell back, nose gushing blood.

"Oh my God, Eddie, FUCK!" Chrissy jumped over the couch and landed on the other side and crouched down next to Eddie, he flinched when her hands came up to hover over his broken nose. "Shit, I'm sorry! Fuck, let's go to the kitchen, you need a towel and some ice." She grabbed his elbow and dragged him up, escorting him to a seat at the counter while she ran over to the fridge and grabbed a bag of frozen peas and a kitchen towel from the drawer next to the sink.

"Here-" Eddie snatched the bag of peas from her before she could get any closer to his broken nose. "Sorry, look, I came in here ready to calmly ask what happened, but I saw you drunk in your living room that looks like the suite at the Four Season's after CC's first Grammy and I thought that we were past all this. Eddie, you've been doing so much better for so long, what the hell happened last night?" Chrissy looked around at the devastation, landing back on Eddie and seeing it reflected in his eyes.

"Oh. Oh, you poor, poor-"

"—Stupid fucking idiot." Eddie groaned. He couldn't stand to see the understanding in Chrissy's eyes and so he folded his arms and laid his head down on the counter, cold peas pillowing his swollen eyes and nose.

"Wait. I'm confused. So you finally told him?" Chrissy asked.

"Told him what, Chris? That I'm in love with him? I didn't get the chance." Eddie hiccupped into his frozen peas, never lifting his head, curly hair acting as a curtain around his face, hiding his shame from his oldest friend and manager. "Steve quit. Said he needed to stop living in a fantasy, join the real world, and build a life for himself. But that he'd always be here for me as a friend-" Eddie couldn't stop the sob from escaping his chest.

Chrissy pulled him off the counter and into her arms.

Eddie cried like a baby.

When he calmed finally and could breath normally again, they had somehow migrated to the couch in his fully intact living room at the front of the house.

"Eddie, I don't want to alarm you. But I think you really are an idiot." Chrissy patted his shoulder fondly.

Eddie pulled away from her, appalled at her lack of empathy.

"Don't give me that look. Think for a second." Chrissy grabbed his hand and in both of her tiny ones. "Steve is at my place right now, devastated, just like you. He told you he needed to stop living in a fantasy, and build a life for himself. That he's always going to be your friend." Chrissy looked imploringly into Eddie's eyes, willing him to understand the conclusion she was slowly coming to.

"Yeah, that's what he said, Chris, you don't have to rub it in." Eddie scoffed uncharitably, ripping his hand back.

"No, Eddie." Chrissy hopped up onto her knees, excitement building as she got more sure of her theory, grabbing Eddie's hand again, "Steve is not okay. He is holed up with his best friend in the break up protocol- ice cream, junk food, and platonic cuddles in bed. He doesn't know that you see him as more than just a friend. And he is devastated that he is always going to be your friend, and he has to give up the fantasy, and go build a life for himself-" by now Chrissy was bouncing next to Eddie, her smile chasing away the clouds that had darkened his eyes, "—because he doesn't realize that you want to build a life with him."

"You don't think you're reaching a little here, Chris?" Eddie asked, though he couldn't help the glimmer of hope that had already taken root in his chest, chasing away the darkness that had been clawing its way deeper since Steve walked away from him last night.

"Eddie, if you don't get your ass off this couch and over to my place right now and go profess your undying love to Steve I'm going to beat your face in." Chrissy said with a sincerity that scared Eddie into standing immediately and looking for his keys.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for my keys."

"We're taking my car."

"Well then let's fuckin go, I have to go get my heart back."

"Jesus that was cheesy."

"Shut up, I have six Grammys."

"Well four of those are from this year, so you better get Steve back or clearly you can kiss your songwriting career goodbye."

"Heeeeyyyyy."

“vickie!” eddie practically screams from his kitchen, rage coursing through him as he stares down at the tabloids spread out in front of him on the counter. “get in here! now!”

eddie’s had an issue with his rage lately. well. he’s had an issue with a lot of things, since he got famous, really. but that’s not his problem right now.

his problem is he’s looking down at image after image of himself on the covers of people and us weekly and entertainment tonight being dragged out of last night’s night club by his own security team with blood pouring from his nose. he looks angry. he looks crazed.

just then, a stranger walks into his kitchen.

“who the fuck are you?” he blurts out at the man, who’s wearing a dark green sweater vest over a white t-shirt and tortoise-shell glasses.

“i’m steve,” the weirdo stalker says, smiling brightly. he has surprisingly swoopy hair for an insane fan. “i’m your new assistant.”

“where’s vickie?” eddie asks, rubbing at the sore spot on his nose. thank god it’s not broken.

“you fired her,” steve tells him. “two days ago.”

“i fire her all the time.”

“ok, well… i guess this time it stuck,” steve shrugs. “chrissy hired me.”

“fucking chrissy,” eddie says under his breath, rolling his eyes. he pulls out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and speed dials chrissy. “chris, what the fuck?” he doesn’t even give her the chance to say hello.

“good morning, eddie. i’m doing really well, how are you?”

“not fucking well, that’s how i am!” eddie practically yells into the receiver. “what the fuck? did you see the pictures? and who the fuck is this guy in my house?”

“yes, eddie, i saw the pictures.” eddie can hear the eye roll in her voice. “we’re handling it. nancy’s already on it with the team. what was the other thing?”

eddie knows she’s fucking with him and that pisses him off even more. “who is this freak in my house wearing a goddamn sweater vest?!” he feels like a blood vessel in his eye is about to pop.

“hey,” steve protests softly from across the kitchen where he’s started to pull shit out of eddie’s fridge. he didn’t even know there was anything in that fridge.

“that’s not a very nice way to talk about your new assistant,” chrissy’s voice comes loud and clear through the phone.

“christina fucking cunningham, you know i have final say on all hiring decisions when it comes to my assistants.” he rubs at his sore nose again.

“you had final say on all hiring decisions until you fired vickie for the thirteenth time and she refused to come back, even with a three hundred percent raise. we’re going in a different direction now.” chrissy sounds entirely too pleased with herself.

“well, i fucking hate him,” eddie grumbles and watches steve to make sure he’s heard him. steve doesn’t even react, just continues doing whatever the fuck he’s doing with the frying pan he’d found in the cabinet.

“you don’t even know him, eddie. give him a chance. anyway, i have to go, i have brunch plans with my very beautiful, very intelligent, perfect fiancée,” chrissy tells him, gloating, before hanging up on him.

eddie wants desperately to throw his phone across the kitchen, but if he breaks this one that would be his fourth phone in three weeks and he couldn’t bear to have to ask this steve person to go buy him a new one. he settles for squeezing it in his hand until it creaks while taking several deep breaths through his nose.

“what are you doing?” he grits out.

“are you always this rude?” steve asks, ignoring his question.

“to weirdo freak strangers showing up in my house unannounced? yes.”

“it’s not unannounced, chrissy wrote it on your calendar.” steve gestures toward the paper calendar hanging on the side of the fridge where chrissy writes his major life events and which eddie mostly just ignores before sliding a plate full of food toward eddie.

“what is this?” eddie sneers.

“it’s an omelette with cheese and mushrooms,” steve replies, smiling. he’s always fucking smiling.

“i’m allergic to… omelettes,” eddie says, just to be a dick.

“no you’re not. you’re allergic to blueberries and dust.” steve doesn’t stop smiling pleasantly.

“did you get access to my medical records? that’s a violation of my… whatever rights.” eddie waves a hand through the air.

“no, i didn’t go look at your medical records, jesus. i’m not a stalker. chrissy told me when she hired me.”

“whatever. i still fucking hate you.”

“okay,” steve shrugs again. “eat your breakfast.”

eddie has every intention of leaving the kitchen, full plate of food and all, but. he is hungry.

so he eats.

and he’s pissed that it’s actually good.

~*~

eddie spends the rest of the day being a general nuisance to steve any time he tries to do his job. when steve answers the phone before handing it to eddie, eddie “accidentally” hangs up on whoever it is on the hand off & makes sure to blame his new assistant when the person finally calls back. when steve has to drive him to his meeting with nancy and the pr team, eddie tries to give him the wrong directions, but steve’s too smart for that. when steve has to do the grocery shopping, he makes steve go to the erewhon all the way across town during rush hour because the one down the street “just doesn’t have the same vibe, steve.”

and all the while, steve just does his job, still smiling, not getting angry at all even though it’s beyond obvious eddie’s being a little shit to him.

which honestly just pisses eddie off more than anything else today.

“here’s some aspirin,” steve says, placing two white pills on the coffee table in front of eddie, along with a mason jar of water. eddie, lounging on his big squishy couch, pulls the ice pack away from his nose, which has started throbbing again. “you didn’t have any glasses.” steve shrugs when he sees eddie’s arched eyebrow looking skeptically at the jar of water. “if you don’t need anything else, i’ll take off for the day.”

it’s past 8pm already, long after steve should have left for the day except that eddie had made him stay to organize his extensive tshirt collection by color, shade, and design before he could even think about going home. it was an emergency, after all.

“i’ll have to check the t-shirt closet first,” eddie replies, before swallowing the aspirin dry. steve shrugs again and rolls his eyes. eddie would say something about his blatant rudeness, but he’s too exhausted.

eddie pulls himself off the couch and makes his way down the hallway to his “t-shirt room.” it’s so stupid, but he has all this space and he’d started collecting the tshirts so long ago. they’re not worth anything, they’re just his wardrobe but… they remind him of wayne and the thrifting they used to do every saturday morning.

the organization eddie had been having steve do was entirely arbitrary. it’s not like eddie plans his outfits. he mostly just pulls whatever out of wherever, unless it’s an event and then he pays someone to do the deciding and dressing for him anyway.

but. steve’s organized the t-shirts by genre and subgenre and then by band alphabetically and finally color. more than eddie had even asked him to do.

eddie had come in here fully prepared to rip steve a new one, but even he can be shocked into appreciation.

steve notices eddie’s silence and grins.

“can i tell you something?” steve says pleasantly and then continues without even letting eddie respond to the question. “i know i look like a nice polite guy next door that moms totally love—it’s the sweater vests, i think.” steve plucks at his top. “and that’s true. i am a nice polite guy and moms do love me. i’m awesome.” his grin widens. “but i got kicked out of my parents house when i was 18 and i lived in my car for a while. i’ve been on my own for seven years. i made a life in LA out of nothing. so you can throw your little temper tantrums and tell me how much you hate me. you can make me go to the erewhon all the way across town and you can make me look incompetent to my colleagues. but i need this job. i’ve worked hard for this job. this job pays more than any other job i’ve ever had combined. and you’re hardly the biggest asshole i’ve ever met. so you can continue trying to make my life miserable—hell, i’ll even give you my dad’s number, you guys can swap ideas!” steve laughs at his own joke before turning serious for the first time all day. “but i’m not vickie. you won’t make me cry. you can’t fire me. i’m not going anywhere.” he claps his hands together. “anyway, i’m gonna take off, since i have plans with my actual friends. but hey, i’ll see you tomorrow, huh?” and he smiles again, giving eddie a small waggle of his fingers, before heading out through the door.

eddie’s still just standing there in the middle of his tshirt room when he hears the front door slam shut.

[myonexox]

UNPLANNED SESSIONS

pairing : boyfriend!jay x female!reader

synopsis : you're just trying to go to the gym after missing your morning session but your plans quickly change when your boyfriend, jay, comes home unexpectedly. he's exhausted and frustrated from work and instead of letting you leave, he begs you to stay with him. no matter how hard you try to resist, you can never say no to him. and just like that, another gym session is missed.

warnings : lots of kisses

word count : 1.7k

a/n : requested by @jaaayyneee (hope this turned out the way you imagined. sorry if it’s not exactly what you had in mind but i really tried my best. hope you enjoy the story!)

you pulled your hair up into a ponytail, securing it tightly before smoothing down a few stray strands. you looked at your reflection in the mirror, adjusting the elastic band one last time as you inspected your pastel pink gym set, a snug sports bra paired with matching shorts. satisfied, you grabbed your gym bag from the chair and slung it over your shoulder.

stepping out of the bedroom, you walked to the kitchen and headed next to the sink to fill up your water bottle. the soft hum of the water filling your bottle was the only sound breaking the quiet stillness of your apartment.

no, you didn’t live alone. your boyfriend usually filled the space with his presence. but at the moment, he wasn’t here. he was currently at work.

the apartment felt different when you were alone. it felt too quiet. you had lived here with him for almost a year now and you were so used to his presence that without him, the space felt far too big.

you stood next to the sink, adjusting your grip on the bottle as cool water cascaded into it.

you sighed. you’d missed your morning session and the guilt of skipping was gnawing at you. but it wasn’t just guilt, it was also the familiar itch, that restless energy in your limbs that needed an outlet. your body craved movement. you had always been dedicated to your fitness routine and missing a session left you feeling incomplete.

you glanced at the clock on the kitchen counter. 5:07 pm. the gym was still open for a few more hours and after missing your morning session, you were determined not to skip it altogether.

as your water bottle was almost full, your phone vibrated in your bag. pulling it out, you saw a message from your friend, hana.

hana: “hey! just finished my workout. where are you?”

you typed back quickly. “heading there now. missed my morning session”

hana: “ahhh okay! be safe. it’s kinda late”

suddenly, you heard the door open and close. you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. it was your boyfriend, jay. he had come home.

but there was no greeting, no familiar call of your name. just the quiet rustling of his jacket being slipped off and the soft thud of his bag hitting the floor.

you slipped your phone back into your bag and turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of him. his shoulders were slumped, his usually warm eyes clouded with fatigue.

he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling softly as he walked towards you. his silence spoke volumes. maybe something had happened at work? something that drained the energy from him completely. because you could see that, clearly. he wasn't usually like this. even when he was tired after coming home from work, he would still greet you with his usual sweet smile. but not today.

as you stood by the sink, focused on filling up your water bottle completely, you felt him slowly approach from behind.

before you could turn around, you felt his lips graze against your bare shoulder. soft at first, barely more than a whisper of a touch. then firmer. the heat of his breath sent a shiver through you as he trailed slow kisses up the curve of your neck, his movements unhurried, savoring the contact. his lips were slightly parted, pressing against your skin with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. his scent, mixed with the faintest trace of cologne was intoxicating.

your fingers tightened around the bottle, trying to focus, trying to keep your thoughts clear but he wasn’t making it easy. his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, his breath hot as he exhaled slowly against your skin. "what are you doing?" you murmured, your voice coming out softer than you intended, betraying the effect he had on you.

"hey, is everything okay?" you asked again, placing the water bottle, now full, on the counter.

he didn't answer immediately. instead, his hands found your waist, fingers splaying against the fabric of your shorts before pressing you back against him. his warmth enveloped you, his grip firm yet tender. he rested his chin lightly against your shoulder, exhaling slowly as if trying to let go of whatever tension had settled in his body throughout the day.

"i had a bad day... a really bad day" he finally murmured against your skin, his voice low, husky. "just need you so bad right now baby"

his lips resumed their path, lingering at the juncture where your shoulder met your neck, his teeth grazing lightly before he soothed the spot with another kiss. he moved slowly, his lips pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder, traveling further with each touch. his hands moved, slow and teasing, sliding under the hem of your top just enough for his fingers to brush against your skin. his touch was light as if testing the waters before dipping further.

you swallowed, trying to stay grounded but the way he touched you, so gentle, so wanting, made your heart race. "jay…" you started but the moment his fingers traced small circles on your waist, your words faltered. he was distracting, his presence intoxicating and you could feel the tension in his body, the need for comfort, the silent plea for something more.

"shhh" he whispered, nipping at your earlobe before pressing another kiss just below it. "just let me…" his hands tightened slightly, holding you firmly against him as he pressed closer.

you wiped your slightly damp hands against your shorts and quickly turned around. you tried to fight whatever you were feeling, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. you had to. if you gave in now, you wouldn’t be able to go to the gym and you had already missed your morning session.

“i have to go to the gym” you told him, voice firm despite the heat still lingering in your body from his touch.

he didn’t say anything at first. instead, he tilted his head slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach twist. then, in the softest, most irresistible voice, he murmured “baby, can’t you skip just this once? for me?” his gaze softened, his eyes wide and pleading, his lips barely parted as if he was pouting without meaning to.

it was unfair how easily he could weaken your resolve. that look, that voice, so sweet, so needy. he knew exactly how to use them against you. and for a moment, you hesitated. but then you shook your head, forcing yourself to look away.

“no, i can’t” you said, stepping back slightly. “i already skipped too many times. so this time, i really have to go”

a muscle in his jaw tensed. his expression darkened just a fraction and before you could react, he moved forward, closing the distance in an instant causing your bag to drop to the ground with a loud thud. his hands gripped your hips firmly, his body pressing against yours as he backed you into the kitchen counter. the hard edge dug into your lower back but it was nothing compared to the heat of him surrounding you.

“i’m asking nicely” he murmured, his voice lower, rougher. his lips hovered just inches from yours as his hands slowly trailed up your sides. “please… can you skip the gym?”

your heart pounded. his body caged you in, his warmth sinking into your skin and the way he looked at you, half pleading, half demanding made it impossible to think straight. he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“jay...” you started, voice barely above a whisper.

“please” he repeated, his voice raw with exhaustion and something deeper. “just stay. just for tonight”

you bit your lip, torn between reason and the undeniable pull he had on you. “but i promised myself i’d go” you whispered though your voice wavered under his touch.

he exhaled sharply, his frustration evident. his grip on your waist tightened. “you’re really going to make me beg, hm?” he muttered, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, his voice dripping with both frustration and desire.

you shivered involuntarily and all you could manage was a quiet “jay…”

“i hate when you leave when i need you” he admitted, his fingers digging into your hips just enough to make you gasp. his nose brushed against your cheek before he tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “i had a bad day, baby. you know that. and now you’re just going to walk away and leave me? alone?”

“i- i’m not walking away, i just—”

he didn’t let you finish. his lips crashed against yours, claiming them in a kiss that left no room for doubt about what he wanted. it wasn’t just about keeping you here, it was about needing you, about finding solace in you. his hands slid to the small of your back, pulling you even closer, pressing every inch of his body against yours.

your fingers instinctively reached up, threading through his hair, tugging slightly as he deepened the kiss.

when he finally pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his forehead resting against yours. “just this once” he whispered, his voice rough. “please, i beg you”

you hesitated, heart racing, mind screaming at you to hold your ground. but with the way he was looking at you, the way his hands refused to let you go, you knew this battle was already lost.

you sighed, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his touch and the intensity in his gaze. you could never resist him. never.

“fine” you murmured, the word barely escaping your lips. and just like that, another session at the gym was gone, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

a victorious smirk tugged at his lips before he closed the distance between you again. he pulled you into another kiss but this time, it was hotter, deeper, more desperate. his hands roamed over your waist, skimming along the curve of your back before pressing you even closer. you gasped softly against his lips, your hands gripping his arms to steady yourself as warmth spread through you.

his fingers traced over your gym suit, grazing over every dip and contour of your body as if memorizing the way you felt beneath his touch. he exhaled shakily against your lips. “you have no idea how hard it is to resist you when you look like this”

your breath hitched as his lips trailed along your jaw down to the curve of your neck. you shivered when he nipped at your skin lightly. he pulled away slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“we should do something fun instead” he murmured, his fingers skimming along your arms before settling on your waist again.

you tilted your head, feigning innocence even though you already knew exactly what he meant. “what do you mean?”

his smirk deepened. “you know what i mean”

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 9

Source for pic

Trouble 9

Word Count: 5471

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Reader in a terror-like state; Dead Animals Mentioned; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I've left very ominous comments in the last chapter, saying something big would happen in chapter 9... I didn't get to write the part I wanted, but I still think some big stuff happens in this chapter... I'll let you all be the judges of that! So tell me all about it, will you?

Masterlist

BANG, BANG, BANG! 

Your hands cover your ears, but not even that can keep out the deafening sound of the incessant pounding on the front door. 

Desperate sobs make your shoulders shake as tears flow freely down your already tear-streaked cheeks. 

You're so tired. 

“Make it stop… please, please, make it stop.” You whisper, pleading with whichever deity is willing to listen because you've run out of options. 

“Come on, Trouble! I know you're in there!” Zoro? “If you don't open this fucking door, I swear I will break it down!”

The relief that washes over you is immediate and dizzying. It's Zoro. It's not your stalker. It's Zoro! 

Bzzzz.

Unknown: Don’t open, Kitten.

Ignoring the text, you get up swiftly and if you thought relief might stop the tears, it's the exact opposite. You're crying even harder. For a split second your fingers tremble against the doorknob, weighing your options. There's a little voice in the back of your head telling you that Zoro will get hurt because of you, that you'll regret it, but another shout from Zoro keeps your thoughts from spiraling further. 

“Trouble!”

Bzzzz.

Unknown: If you tell him anything about our little secret, I WILL hurt him.

“I'm going to count to three!” Zoro shouts.

Yet he doesn't even get to one. You need to see him. Unlocking all the bolts with shaky fingers, you swing the door open almost all the way, your hand flying to your mouth as you try to stifle a sob. 

“Fucking finally! I've been texting all day, trying to call. I only just got out of work because every time I was about to leave, there seemed to–” Zoro pauses his angry tirade, his eye scanning you from top to bottom, taking in your heaving shoulders, your wet and puffy face, the bags beneath your eyes, and most likely the way your clothes hang looser from lack of sustenance and stress. “The fuck?”

You can't speak. He's all you can think of. A beacon of light, a safety net tethering you back when you were lost in a spiral of fear. 

“Zo…”

He reaches but pulls back instantly, his head cocking to the side as he assesses you. You avoided his touch like the plague last weekend, hell, you've been avoiding him all week. 

You've avoided him for a lifetime, it seems. 

Like a spring, you jump forward, your arms instantly wrapping around his broad torso, and his scent hits you like a truck. He's home. He's safety. He's everything. 

“Hey, hey, it's okay. Whatever it is, Trouble, I'll take care of it, okay?” When his strong arms envelop you in warmth, you bury your face against his shirt, not caring one bit if you're about to leave snot, drool, and tears all over it. You need to be closer. You need to feel safer. “Did something happen to Shanks?”

You shake your head. Thank God your father is away. If he saw you like this, he would break. Though maybe if your dad were home, you wouldn't even have a stalker… 

Zoro's hand tangles in your hair, settling against your nape as he cradles you closer to him, and you can't stop the tears. You're crying for all you've suffered, for all you've endured, and for what's sure to happen because you're in Zoro's arms, and there’s no way your stalker is going to let you get away with this. 

But just for a bit, just a little bit, you need to revel in him. 

“Then let's talk inside.” Zoro whispers your name, trying to coax you away from him long enough to enter and close the door, but you still cling to him, as if letting go means going back to the nightmare you've been living in. “Hey, I just want to close the door, okay? I'm not leaving.”

He's not leaving? 

You want to tell him to go, that he can't stay with you, that you'll only bring him suffering. Who knows what your stalker is capable of? You can't risk Zoro, you just can't! Before you can stop it, images of Lucci’s face without eyes and the clerk without hands swim in your vision, and you wince. 

But you don't protest. 

You only cling harder. 

Zoro sighs and drags you inside the house, never letting go of you. After closing the door he guides you to the couch probably meaning to sit next to you, but you hold him so tight that he pulls you to his lap. Your legs to the side and arms still wrapped tightly around him. You sense as he lays a soft kiss on the top of your head and then leans his chin where his lips had been. Zoro's hand still runs soothing circles on your back and it's unlikely your sobs are going to slow down anytime soon. 

“You're all right, Trouble. I'm here. I'll never let anything happen to you.”

You're so exhausted and drained that you barely realise you're falling asleep. Until darkness claims you. 

-*-

To say that Zoro's mad is an understatement. He's more than mad, he's furious. 

At first, he was mad at you. For a lot of things, actually. Avoiding him, ghosting him, pretending that what you had - or what was starting to develop - meant nothing to you. But mostly, he was mad at the way you kept ignoring all his calls and texts. That was driving him insane. 

But now… 

Now, he's fucking seething. 

He's going to find out what - or who - has left you in this state, and he's going to make it right. Because there's no way you look like this just because you're tired or because you miss your dad. 

Fucking bullshit. 

You look like a ghost. A starving ghost at that. 

A heavy sigh parts his lips as he runs a hand down his face. One fucking thing at a time. You need to eat. 

After you rest. 

Your breathing evens out after a while, but the way you're clinging to him makes him wait a while longer before moving you. He makes sure you're comfortable on the couch before putting a blanket over you. 

His chest aches at the way your breath hitches as you inhale. Your brows furrow, and your fingers now grasp the blanket instead of his shirt. 

He's seen enough shit in his profession to realise the telltale signs. And it's pretty fucking clear that you're scared of something. 

He's going to find out what. 

As he turns to go to the kitchen and prepare some food for you - even if he has to force-feed you - his eye falls on the garish bouquet of fresh roses on the table. 

“Fuck.” 

Didn't you say the gifts had stopped? He remembers that clearly. Could the flowers be from someone else? 

Zoro approaches and inspects the roses with an analytical eye. They're ordinary. And there's no card. 

No fucking clue. 

Mumbling another string of curses, Zoro rummages around your cabinets, and the action only makes him madder. The bread is stale and mouldy, the vegetables and fruit are withered, and the opened milk in the fridge has gone sour. It looks like you haven’t gone shopping or had a decent meal in days.

Zoro finds an unopened bottle of milk that’s still good and some cereal, so that will have to do for now. He’ll force it down your throat when you wake up, even if you protest. One quick look around the house makes him realise you have all the windows and doors bolted and the curtains drawn. 

He wouldn't find that suspicious any other time, after all, you’re all alone inside a big house. But considering you’re scared witless, this looks mighty suspicious. 

He returns to the living room, giving the bouquet of roses the stink-eye, and sits on the couch next to you. His keen eye not missing the way you shiver slightly, even though he’s covered you with a blanket, or the way your lower lip trembles with each breath. 

Then, his eye falls on the small end table, where your phone rests.

Zoro’s hand twitches, and he lets out a low grunt. That damn phone. You didn’t part with it at Robin’s, and every time you looked at it, you only got more distressed. Should he…?

No, he can’t. It’s your privacy, he can’t intrude. All he can do is be there for you and–

“Fuck it.” Zoro’s hand reaches for the phone as a small whimper escapes your lips. You can be mad at him all you want later. For now, he needs to understand what the hell is making you look like a ghost of yourself. And especially what’s making you push him away.

He takes a deep breath and swipes the screen.

It’s locked. 

Fuck.

Maybe this is a sign that he shouldn’t be doing this? Except, he believes in signs as much as he believes in coincidences. 

He doesn’t.

So, with slow movements, Zoro grabs your hand and places your index finger over the phone. The breath he releases when the phone unlocks is slow and relieved. It feels like he’s about to figure out the reason you’re acting so weird. 

And everything you’re hiding from him. 

His eyes scan up and down as he searches for any suspicious texts. Sure enough, there are his texts and missed calls. You didn’t even read them.

And then…

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

What the fuck?

-*-

You blink slowly, adjusting to the brightness of the morning, and feel strangely well-rested. It doesn’t take you long to understand why. What hits you first is his strong scent, something you’ve come to associate with safety, and then you realise you’re hugging him.

“Morning, Trouble.” Zoro’s voice is husky, he was probably sleeping too. You blush involuntarily, realising this is what he sounds like in the morning and not minding one bit the thought of waking to this sound every day for the rest of your life.

“Hi. You stayed…”

“Of course I did. Sleep well?” 

Yeah you did. You slept like you haven’t in what feels like forever. The stalker threat is still there, you feel it taunting you in the back of your mind, like an ever-growing presence, but Zoro’s mere presence manages to keep it at bay. 

“I did.”

“Good.” He’s still holding you tight, and you don't make any move to let go either. “I was sleeping on the other couch, when you started to whimper and tremble. I didn’t want you to wake up because it looked like you needed the rest, and you seemed to calm down when I touched you, so…”

He leaves the rest unsaid, and you hold him tighter. God, you really needed him. 

After a while of silence, Zoro starts to shift, so you sit up as well, stretching. 

“You don’t have anything to eat, Trouble. Why haven’t you gone grocery shopping?”

Shit. “Oh, I’ve been postponing it. There’s so much to do around the farm.” Lies, lies, lies. “And there are always eggs from the chickens, I’ll never starve.”

“The food you have has gone bad, or nearly bad. Have you been eating?” Zoro’s eye pierces yours and you pass a hand through your hair to smooth your “bed hair”, as well as to try and deflect his inquiry. 

“I ate a lot of takeout this week. Didn’t really feel like cooking, I’ve just been so tired.” It’s mostly true…

“You told me the gifts stopped.”

Fuck.

“What is this, Zoro? Am I under questioning? Should you take me to the station for this?” You get up with a huff, knowing he’s inching towards the truth fast. 

“I don’t know, should I?” He also gets up, his face turning into a frown. “You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks!”

“You haven’t eaten.”

“Yes, I have!”

“You’re scared shitless.”

Your hands shoot to your hips, and you stamp your feet. “I am–”

“Stop deflecting! Don’t lie to me, damn it! I thought we were friends!” Zoro sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Don’t shut me out.” 

He stares intently at you, his hand reaching to touch you, and you sigh. Of course, he knows something is up. Averting his gaze, you turn and start walking away because you know that if you stay, you’ll tell him everything. And you can’t do that. You already risked a lot just by letting him spend the night. “I really need to use the bathroom now. We’ll talk later.”

He doesn’t stop you, but you still hear his muffled imprecations, and even though you don’t look him in the eye as you grab your phone, you sense him tracing your every move. 

-*-

“Eat.” You took a while in the bathroom, and even though you entered looking more like yourself, you now look scared and pale again. The texts flooded your phone as soon as you closed the bathroom door.

Unknown: Naughty, naughty, naughty. The whole night with the cop? After I warned you? Unknown: Oh, Kitten, you have no idea how absolutely mad I am right now. His arms around what is mine?  Unknown: I told you I didn’t want to hurt the cop, but I don’t think I have another choice now. Unknown: I thought you were going to behave. You’ll need to be punished. 

It kept buzzing, but you didn’t dare to read any more. The more you read his threats, the more scared you would look. And you can’t let Zoro know what’s going on. Not when his safety is at stake.

“I’m not hungry.” You say as you shove the cereal bowl Zoro placed in front of you as soon as you left the bathroom. 

“Eat, Trouble, or I swear I will force it down your throat.” He growls as his hand bangs the table. When you flinch slightly, he sighs and leans back in his chair. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be hard on you. It’s just…”

Zoro gets up from the seat in front of you, rounds the table, and kneels next to you, touching your legs so you turn to him. As you look at his expression, you feel your heart shattering into tiny pieces. He seems so lost.

“I can’t do this anymore. I see you struggling, I can see you’re scared! You’re not yourself. And the fact that you don’t let me in… Trouble…” He places both hands on your legs, his face inches from yours, and you don’t want to pull back. “I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you, you know that, don’t you?”

You nod slowly. It would be so easy to tell him everything. He’s right, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, you know that. “But what about you?” Your voice sounds small, almost as if you speak in a low volume your stalker won’t be able to listen.

“What about me?” Your hands raise on their own as you cup his face, your thumb tracing lazy patterns on his cheeks as your heart thumps incessantly against your chest. 

“Who’ll protect you, Zo?”

Zoro’s eyebrow raises, and he tilts his head slightly, as if struggling to understand your question. Then he smirks, that mischievous smirk that makes your stomach flutter, and places his hands on top of yours, squeezing tight. 

“I don’t need protection, Trouble.”

How you want to believe him. It would be so simple: someone’s stalking me; I’m being watched; I’m scared.

Any of those sentences could work. Zoro would go full protective mode and never leave you alone. You can do this. You can.

He’s right. He’s strong, and he’s a cop. He doesn’t need protection. He’s Roronoa Zoro.

“I–” But, obviously, it can’t be this simple. As soon as you open your mouth, your phone buzzes and buzzes and buzzes again. 

You know it’s him. So you instantly tremble and before you get the chance to grab the phone, Zoro’s hand shoots to your pocket and he fishes it out. Your knees weaken as you gasp.

He’s going to find out everything.

Zoro’s eye falls on the screen of the buzzing phone, and his eyebrow raises again.

Then he sighs and passes you the phone. “Your dad is calling. You should pick it up.”

Zoro gets up as you pick up the phone, not exactly knowing if you should feel relieved, or upset that it wasn’t your stalker. “Hey, Dad!” You try to sound cheerful, but it’s so, so hard. Especially when Zoro’s leaning against the kitchen counter, legs and arms crossed and a scowl on his lips, like he was expecting to see something else on your phone.

“Hi, Bug! What's up?”

You chuckle slightly. “What do you mean? You called. What’s the news?” God, you miss your father.

“I called? No! You called me, Bug.” He chuckles as if you’re spewing nonsense. You’re about to contest because you were in the middle of an important conversation when he called, but then you bite your tongue as your eyes widen in realisation. 

This was the stalker’s doing.

Somehow he orchestrated this call just to interrupt your moment with Zoro. This realisation makes your blood turn cold. What else is he manipulating in your life?

What else can he do?

“When are you coming home, Dad?” You can’t disguise the anxiousness in your voice, and Zoro immediately picks it up. He straightens and starts walking towards you again. 

“Oh, I’m not sure, Bug. I had the trip arranged for Monday, but the business is still going really well! I’m not sure how this is happening, but the fair is already over, and we’re still having meetings with buyers!” 

Is this being orchestrated, too? Just to keep Shanks away? Just so you’re alone?

Your heart thumps harder and harder against your chest as the feeling of being trapped returns tenfold. 

“That’s good.” Your voice is small and timid. All you want to do is tell your dad to rush home. You need this nightmare to be over. But then again, is Shanks being home really going to stop whatever the stalker has planned for you?

You highly doubt it. It will probably just endanger your dad. 

“Got to go, honey. Thank you for calling, I’ll let you know when I’ll be heading home soon, okay?” You mumble in agreement. You didn’t call. And you doubt he’s going to come home any time soon. 

You finish the call, and though Zoro looks like he has a lot more to say, he just tells you to eat, and this time you do. This call was a veiled warning. No talking to Zoro about the stalker. 

No one is safe.

-*-

Zoro doesn’t leave, but you shut down again. He helps you with the chores, and you can see him struggling to hold his tongue back. It’s like he decided to change his approach from outright interrogating you to giving you time and space so you can talk to him when you feel ready to.

Though you know Zoro is not a patient man, so who knows how long this is going to last.

Besides, even though you wish for nothing more than to tell him all that’s going on, are you willing to risk it? With not only Zoro’s safety on the line but clearly your dad’s too?

Your phone keeps buzzing in your pocket, and it takes a bathroom break for you to read the disturbing texts.

Unknown: Don’t you think he’s overstaying his welcome? Unknown: Kitten, things will go very, very wrong if you keep indulging him. Unknown: Tell him to go home, or I’ll make him go. And you won’t like it.  Unknown: I’m losing patience with you. Don’t test me. You KNOW what I’m capable of.

“Zoro.” You’ve finished your morning chores, and Zoro is washing his hands in the kitchen sink. Your heart feels heavy, and you don’t want to do this. “You can go now. I’m going to rest a bit more, maybe do some reading…”

“I’m not leaving.” He simply states. “Nami’s birthday party is later, or have you forgotten? What’s the point in leaving when we’ll just have to meet later? I’ll stick around and help.” He scoffs as he cleans his hands on the dish towel. “I really want to see what excuse you’re going to use next instead of the ‘I’m tired’ one, since I’ve been helping you all day.”

Shit. He really wants to get to the bottom of this, doesn’t he?

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

“Nami’s birthday party! Damn it.” It’s a good thing you had already ordered Nami’s gift about a month ago because you didn’t even remember the party was today. Heck, you still haven’t said anything to her, maybe you should call? “We’ll meet there, Zo. There’s no need to stay here.”

“You’re pushing me away again.” He says bluntly, an annoyed expression on his face, and takes a step towards you as if to prove his point. 

You take a step back, shaking your head and hitting the kitchen chair as you do so. With a curse, you keep shaking your head.

Bzzzz. 

“I’m not.”

“Bullshit.” Zoro steps forward again, closing the distance. “I’ve tried asking, I’ve tried to give you time. I’m all out of options, Trouble. I thought you trusted me. What’s going on?” Though his voice is gruff and rough, you can perceive the worry hidden underneath. 

You shake your head again, your steps taking you away from him until you hit the counter and stop. “Nothing’s going on. I keep telling you that.”

“Bullshit.” Another step and he’s right in front of you. “Let me in.” He sounds softer now, and you almost crumble. Your fingers twitch as you struggle to keep your hands pressed against your thighs, when all you want to do is hug him. 

“Zo…”

“Just tell me! Whatever it is, I can help you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

Your hand reaches for your pocket instinctively, but this time, it’s not your phone that’s buzzing.

“Fuck!” Zoro sighs and steps back, reaching for his phone. His brow arches when he sees the caller ID, and he picks up the call. “Cap?”

You can hear the gravelly voice of Captain Mihawk on the other side of the line, but you can’t make out the words he’s saying. 

“A bomb threat? What?” Zoro tenses, his muscles clenching as his eye searches yours, and you can see him struggling. “Yes, I’m busy, damn it.” He sighs again, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “I’m on my way.”

Then, he turns off the call. “Grab a bag, you’re coming with me.”

A gasp stays lodged in your throat. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. “What?”

“I’m not going to leave you here alone when you’re clearly scared, even though you don’t want to tell me what it is. You can stay in the car, or I’ll drop you at Nami’s. Come on.”

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. “No.”

Zoro’s face turns away from his cell phone just to stare into your eyes. “Trouble?”

“I’m fine.” You’re not. But you don’t think the bomb threat is a coincidence, and you’re scared that if Zoro takes you away from this house, he will hurt him. And you can’t have that.

“It was not a question. Let’s go.” Although his tone brooks no argument, you can’t heed him. 

“Zoro, you can’t tell me what to do.” Your voice nearly trembles, and you will all your power to stay strong. “We’ll meet later.”

Zoro’s phone buzzes again and he curses at whatever he reads on the screen. “Trouble, come on.” He extends his hand your way and you cross your arms, because all you want to do is take it and never let go. But your phone buzzes once more. 

“We’ll meet later.” You’re supposed to sound assertive, but you just sound afraid.

Zoro takes another step forward, his hand trembling slightly in the air as he waits for you to accept it. He looks at you in disbelief, almost trying to break your will with his look alone.

And damn it, if it isn’t working.

Just take his hand, ask for his help… it would be so easy. Let go…

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

“What?” Zoro answers his phone with an angry growl, and this time you can make out the words Captain Mihawk utters, as they are also angry ones.

“Get your ass in the car and onto the site, Officer Roronoa, now. This is your first and last,verbal warning.”

Zoro turns off the phone as his jaw clenches and unclenches. He strides into the living room, grabbing his jacket and car keys, and then he strides back to you again. “You get dressed and go to Nami. I don’t want you all alone, okay?”

You nod, not wanting to commit verbally to something you already know you’re not going to follow. 

“Trouble…” He sounds so exasperated that your heart constricts further, so you take a step forward, grasping his hand in yours and holding his gaze, completely ignoring the warnings from the buzzing of your phone. 

“I’ll be fine, Zo. We’ll meet later.”

Zoro groans as his phone starts to buzz again, then, without any kind of warning, his hand grips your nape, fingers tangling with strands of your hair, and he pulls you into an unexpected kiss. 

It’s sudden, desperate, and all-consuming. He grunts and you groan, and for a few seconds all you can think about is how perfect his mouth fits against yours.

And then it’s over. 

“Later then.” He says with a raspy voice as he rushes out the door. You’re still feeling light-headed from the abrupt kiss when another buzz rattles your nerves. 

Unknown: If you thought I was mad before, Kitten, you have no idea how furious I am right now. Unknown: You WILL be punished.

-*-

You spend most of the day in a haze of terror. You know it was him who made that bomb threat. So, if he did that, what is he really capable of? He hurt Lucci and the clerk boy, and they meant nothing. What will he do to Zoro?

You don’t even consider your punishment to be anything other than that. That’s where he’ll hurt you most: through Zoro, and you bet he knows it.

After you received the text saying you’d be punished, your phone stayed eerily silent again. 

You take that opportunity to change phones for an older one you still keep around. It’s just an older version, slower, but it still works perfectly.

Even if it only stops the creepy texts, it’s already something. 

You need to find a way to stop him. And the more you think about it, the more you come to the conclusion that you need Zoro’s help. You can’t keep pushing him away. Maybe, if Zoro tells Captain Mihawk of what’s going on, he’ll be safe. 

There’s nothing safer than police protection, right?

So, you’ve made up your mind. You will say something to Zoro, even if it's in writing. You’re done cowering in fear, it’s time to stand up.

-*-

You go to Nami’s early, and you think that changing phones is working because you left the house and no text came through. Your chest feels lighter, and you can even breathe better. Zoro texted a while ago to check in on you, saying he’s fine, but the case is a mess and that he’ll explain later. 

You can’t help but feel like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, and you’ll finally be free. You just know it. 

“You look better, sweetie!” Nami exclaims after a while. You’ve been smiling, joking, trying to be cheery. It’s her birthday, and you don’t want to be a bummer. The unease in your stomach is still making you queasy, but your terror will soon be over. You know it.

“Zoro kissed me.” You blurt out with a small chuckle, wanting to share a piece of happiness with your friend, almost as if it were meant to restore a sense of normalcy. Then, you sigh and tremble slightly. The stalker texts are still haunting you, even though you decided to fight him. 

“Finally!” Nami exclaims with a laugh. “The pining was getting pathetic.” She hugs you and pats your head. “I’m happy for both of you, I really am!”

It takes another hour before Vivi meets you both at Nami’s house, and you all leave for the restaurant to meet your friends. Then, it takes another fifteen minutes of lively chat inside the car before you reach the location. 

It’s not until you set foot in the restaurant that your phone buzzes. 

You reach for it with a small smile on your lips, thinking it’s Zoro. 

It’s not.

Unknown: You think you can get rid of me just by changing phones, Kitten? You’re really going all out, aren’t you? Playing with your fate… with the cop’s fate… Unknown: It’s okay, Princess. You’ll learn. I’ll make sure of it.  Unknown: You’ll soon find out where you stand and what you get from defying me.

-*-

Zoro calls Nami, saying he won’t make it to dinner, but he’ll meet you all at the club. When she asks if everything’s alright, he assures her it is. They just got delayed. So, after making sure he’s fine, Nami says he’ll have to cover the drinks tab at the bar to make up for missing dinner. 

Zoro ends the call without answering, and the smile that curves your lips is a bit strained now. The longer Zoro’s away from you, the more your resolve falters. You need him near you, that’s the only way for you to be strong. 

You spend dinner in a dichotomy of feelings. You either feel happy and excited to be with your friends or uneasy and stressed because Zoro is still away, and the stalker’s threats loom over your head. 

Even though you haven’t received any more texts after the last one, you can’t help the ominous feeling that he’s letting you enjoy a night of normalcy before he follows through with his threats.

When you all reach the club, your anxiety is through the roof.

The club is packed full, and music reverberates around you so loudly that it makes your chest thump and your ears ring. But Nami seems happy, and it’s her night. The group has a VIP table reserved for Nami’s party because Nami knows everyone, but you doubt the crew will spend much time there. The girls flock to the dance floor, Sanji follows with a silly grin and you offer to go get drinks from the bar for the remaining friends.

Zoro texted ten minutes ago, saying he’s on his way, and you’ve been rehearsing how you’re going to tell him. The music is so loud in here that you’re pretty sure you can talk to him without anyone hearing you. 

This is it. The nightmare is ending. You can wait a few more minutes. You’ve got this.

Reaching the bar with a small smile, you flag the bartender and order an array of drinks for you and your friends. The bar is completely packed, and the music is louder than at the booth you’re all in.

Still, you sense it.

It’s a prickle on your nape. A feeling of being watched creeps over you, and the little hairs on your neck stand up.

You’re still inhaling sharply, your senses on high alert, when you feel him.

He presses against your back, squeezing your front against the counter. His massive form dwarfs your figure as his arm wraps around your own, trapping it against your waist. A huge hand holds your wrist with such force that the bracelet you’re wearing bites into your skin, making you whimper. 

You want to scream, but his other hand wraps around your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, he doesn’t need to. The simple gesture is enough to exert his power over you and silence your voice. 

He’s massive. Bulky. Strong.

His hand grips your wrist tighter, and you close your eyes, already feeling tears pricking them. Then, his lips hover over your exposed neck, and he breathes against your ear. A low growl makes his chest vibrate against your back and you stifle a sob.

“Hmm… Kitten. You’ve been such a bad girl.” His coarse goatee hairs rasp your skin, as his voice rings low and velvety smooth. Somehow, it sounds oddly familiar, though you can’t quite place it. 

Your limbs lock as your breath leaves your lungs in heavy gasps. Terror has you frozen in place. You can’t scream, can’t flag anyone to help you. You’re completely at his mercy.

“And you know what happens to bad girls?” His hand grips your wrist tighter, and you know it will bruise. “They get punished.”

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache

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OKAY OKAY OKAY BUT: Cherik "The Martian" AU

So I'm rereading the martian today because i am sick again, so obviously I need hard science fiction to combat the existential dread, and my brain just kept latching onto dialogue bits and going "CHERIK! MAKE IT CHERIK"

My thoughts are:

Charles and Erik were friends at one point, maybe during college, maybe at the beginning of training, IDK, at some point they had a bit of a falling out. They're civil enough to still get put on the mission together but it's well known they don't get along.

Though there was that one night, where they were both kinda drunk, and they got together......... ("We can't do this again." Erik said, angrily, in the morning. Charles left without so much as glancing at him, let alone responding.)

There's a sandstorm on sol 6, and the team is trying to evacuate (probably the first class team because that's just easy. Hank = pilot. I bet you moira is the leader lady, lewis, military trained or whatever. And everyone else is there too, but i'm on my asthma medication so I can't think clearly, so they don't get specific roles)

The radio dish comes off, impales Charles, he blows backward while unconscious (lower gravity or some shit idk physics) and crashes into Erik, who then gets hit by more debris. The thing that impaled Charles also impaled his biotelemetry reader, and Erik's got crushed on impact/by the debris, so both of them read as dead to their crew members, who have to leave or else they die too.

Erik wakes up first, since he's not actively bleeding and his suit's not impaled and loosing air. The sandstorm is over, the HAB (think space station/tent) is intact (yay!), but the MAV (think small spaceship good for like, a round trip to and from a larger vessel) is gone (fuck).

He tries to wake Charles up, but ends up dragging him back to the HAB on his own. He takes out the antenna that impaled him and sews up and bandages the cut, while Charles is semi-conscious. It's painful for now, but he'll live. Erik's exhausted, so he goes back to his own bunk and falls asleep, kinda hoping this is all a nightmare.

It's not gone in the morning. He's still stuck on mars in a glorified tent with limited resources and his least favorite person on the team.

They talk to each other, Charles thanks him for helping him, and they decide that they're just going to have to work together to get off of mars alive.

Charles = botanist, erik is the engineer (basically gonna have them split the original main guy's braincell. They already share one anyway).

Potato farming

Along the way, they kinda sorta start becoming friends again. They're relying on each other to survive, they're the only people each other can talk to... They play chess on the computers and watch Moira's awful 70's television and listen to disco that she brought along with her. They farm potatoes and jerry rig rovers and then oops, they fell asleep in the same tiny bunk watching tv together. Oops, they hugged after the potatoes germinated. Oops, they kissed in celebration when they finally made contact with NASA again.

Just like that, they've fallen into a new rhythm. They still argue a lot, but now there's also a good amount of kissing and little fleeting touches while they work together and they put their bunks together and fall asleep in each other's arms ("Do you realize," Charles says one night, Erik curled against his chest, pressing slow kisses to his collarbone, "We're the only people to have made love on a planet other than Earth?" Erik snorts softly, "NASA's not going to be hearing about that, if I can help it." "You realize that the HAB's always recording us, yes? They'll get the footage when we get back to Earth." "...Right. Huh." Erik frowns, then shrugs, "Worth it." Charles laughs.)

Erik gets stuck inside the airlock when the HAB deflates and they loose all their potatoes. Charles is in the rover and, for a while, was convinced Erik was dead. Until he saw the airlock start to roll towards the HAB, and then he started steering the rover over.

After they got the HAB back up, NASA tells them they're sending a supply probe called "Iris." (Transmission goes like this: [08:31] JPL: Keep us posted on any mechanical or electric problems. By the way, the name of the probe we're sending is Iris. Named after the Greek goddess who traveled the heavens with the speed of wind. She's also the goddess of rainbows. [08:47] LEN/XAV: Gay probe coming to save us. Got it. Erik heads back to the HAB. "Hello, darling. How's Houston?" Charles says, not turning from his soil samples or whatever the fuck he's been doing for three days. "They're sending us a pride-themed probe full of granola bars." Erik answers, shoving off his EVA suit. Charles turns to give him a quizzical, are-you-joking kind of look, then bursts out laughing upon seeing Erik's dead serious face. "Well, it's certainly fitting," He says, walking up to Erik and wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.)

Anyways. Iris doesn't make it, shit keeps going wrong, BUT eventually their team catches wind of a plan -- a risky plan, but one that could save cherik. So, without houston's permission, they pilot their ship on a course back to mars. They'll do a flyby, and if Charles and Erik can get to the site of Ares 5 and the MAV for that mission, retrofit the MAV, make it to their team's ship without dying/miscalculating and shooting off into the depths of outer space, they can get to that ship and on a course back to earth by sol 549.

They spend a bunch of time retrofitting their rovers for the trip, and so begins the classic cherik roadtrip -- martian style!! (I just want to mention that there's like no space, so just picture them cuddled up for a good night's sleep on the front bench of the rover. there. cuteness among the science).

They flip at one point. I could add details but it's been a while of me writing this and my brain is slowly dying and i'm tired so. that's it.

They make it to ares 5, they retrofit the MAV, then they do The Riskiest Space Flight of All Time. Random shit goes wrong, everyone's improvising, it pretty much seems like they're done for...

They get back to the big ship. They're safe!! (well, as safe as you can be in space.) But they get a hot shower and full meals and much more comfortable bunks (in separate rooms, technically, but Erik refuses to leave Charles's side so they end up in one bunk that first night. Usually they'd try to be a bit more discreet, but what the fuck. They've been stuck on mars. They almost just died. They deserve to fall asleep in each other's arms.)

They are HEROS back on earth. They get married almost immediately -- it seems quick to a lot of people, but they're so trauma bonded that, like, it's necessary. they go to paris on their honeymoon and get lots of free stuff. They never go to space again lol (and gladly)

THE END (fucking finally, it's 12:00 am on the dot and i've been writing this for 45 minutes.)

EDIT: some art I did for this au

EDIT: I fucking did it. I started writing it. Oops.

[miumura]

MY GENIUS LILIIII OH GOSHHH THIS FIC WAS AMAZINGGG 😖😖 !! i wrote this reblog with fuzzy feeling by grentperez on loop so.. i was double feeling the lovesick energy over here <3 i haven’t read a long fic in a hot minute so this was a great way to get back into it AAAA

and because her writing is soso awesome, i NEEDDD to talk about parts of the fic ( i have a lot of ss…. i was hooked okay… ) SO SPOILERS AHEAD, PLEASE READ MY GIRL’S FIC FIRST — IT’S WORTH READING <3

okay this was absolutely CRAZY. MARBLES. “you’ll have to let me kiss you anytime” OKAYYYYYYYY HAN DONGMIN I SEE YOU. YOU SMOOTHHH FREAKER . even had y/n in shock unable to refute his points like…. oh he knew what he was doing.

he was already having me freaked out at the beginning like why is he fine already… it’s the lili effect help….

THE NECKLACE PART HAD ME GIGGLING!!! lili had graced me with a spoiler of her fic THAT HAD ME EXCITEDDDD so when i located it in the fic and the way she brought up the necklace again AJAKKA IM GIGGLINGGG AGAINNNN AS I TYPE THIS OMGOGM

and not him knowing y/n’s favorite things… guys… GUYS…. choco pie is so bomb guys LILI KNOWS WHATS UPPPPPP AND ANTON PASSING IT??? Like ouhhh taesan URE CRAZYYYY FOR THISSSS ( hot . )

TAESAN COMING TO THE RESCUEEEE ugh i just love how their rivalry relationship is still like present??? like yes call him stupid ( he’s going to be your stupid boyfie ) BECAUSEEE like lili acc incorporated it so well that whenever taesan came back in the picture, it just like… so what are we 😜 like guys… this made me realize why i’m LOWK a sucker for fake dating trope…

IS THIS A LEGALLY BLOND REFERENCE 🤞🤞🤞🤞 ( i never watched it… should i…. )

DENIAL DENIAL DENIALLLLL had my girl doubting everything when she’s there wearing his jersey… this is so real though i’d force myself into thinking its all pretend because… THATS LIKE THE ONLY THOUGHT ID HAVE SO I GET HER 😣

DARLIGNGGGGG GKILL MEEEEEE LILI WAS SICK FOR THAT OFHTMFKOFVK . YEAH THAT HEART BETTER BE BEATING CAUSE MINES WAS . envisioning taesan going up to her w a big grin on his face AND A HUG AT RHAT… bro i’d hit the floor before we could even lock eyes again r u kidding….

WE LOVE WHEN READER STANDS UP FOR HERSELF 🙌🙌 like yes know your worth bae !!! CUT THAT MF OFFFFFFFFF

B B B B B BOYYYYY DONT PLAY W ME RNNNNN ik he was giggling in his head about calling y/n his girlfriend…. trying to keep it smooth while inside he’s geeking and is like… “that’s my girlfriend 😍😍😍😍” (completely disregarding its fake dating and savoring the moment) BUT AAA THAT WAS CUTE SKKSKSS Yes take my hand.

HAD ME GAGGEDDDDD. THE WAY MY SMILE GREW WIDER WHEN TAESAN REPLIED TO WHAT HE SAID LIKE GOODNESSS TAESAN PLEASEEEEEE . this is becoming too much to handle Bue lili how did you survive writing this .

okay now i’m going to reach the pic limit on moblie so im going to stop with the pics here… MY COMMENTARY DOESNT END HERE!!!!

CONTINUING.

when taesan stepped in whenever anton had his hands on reader… 😍 like yes protective man GO GET YOUR GFFFFFFF . “don’t touch her” okay so stomach flipped over 360 and then did some breakdancing before it went back to its normal state.

hes literally so caring like . like ure giving me snacks ur jersey ur scarf and now a warm drink and heat pack …? What else does this man unable to give her . he’d literally give the whole world . this only solidifies my love for this even more bc

GUYS IM ACC A SUCKER FOR ONE SIDED RIVALS…. so when taesan was the one who really didn’t hate y/n I FREAKING CHEERED???? i lablhablahalahaj that. “how he cant stop himself from falling in love with you” PACK IT UPPPP TAESANNNNNOMG HES SUCH A LOVESICK FOOL . the way he describes the way y/n makes him feel its just like. Chefs kiss Quite literally.

like the way it gets harder for taesan to hold everything in and then y/n slowly BUT SURELY feeling the same way is just so UGHHHHHH “what if… i told you im not too sure i can pretend much longer?” TAESAN SHUTUOPPSUIDUROSIDODKD boy he shouldve just confessed there but lili is like poor edger lord over here and gave us the awk BUT CUTE FEELINGS THAT COME AFTER SAYING THATA AJSJJSJS I labh that.

like yes i need them two completely clueless about what to do next even though the feeling inside them is GNAWING them inside…. and lili delivered on that.

AND THE WAY ANTON KEPT APPEARING LIKE OMG???? BAE ILY BUT U WERE ON IT IN THIS FIC 😕😕😕. LET HER GOOOO GEEZ HES SO PERSISTENT. and the way taesan came to rescue her again ( need a taesan ) AND THE WAY HE HELD HIMSELF BACK PLEASEESTOPPPPPP THAT WAS EVILLLL OMG . MR FLIRT OVER HERE PLEASE SPIT IT OUT 🫵🫵🫵

as much as i did not like anton in this fic, i’d say he hsd a contribution of getting these baes together and y/n to finally REALIZE REALIZE SHES FALLINGGGG . like the way she slowly starts off noticing things about him to finally BOOM recognizing it all and piecing it together… LIKE I CHEERED ACTUALLY WHEN I SAW “You like him. You like Han Taesan” LIKE YES YOU DOOOO BAEEE 😭😭😭😭😭

and ANSNDN THEY FINALLY TELL EACH OTHER LIKE UESSSSS YESSSSSS PLEASEEE THIS WAS WHAT I WAS CRAVING FORRRRRRR .

oh gosh the part when yunjin says are theg dating and y/n says “no” while taesan says “yes” LIKE UGHHHH IK HE WANTED TO SAY RHAT SO BADLYYTT LIKE FRFR CONFIRM IT. i just love how their teasing aspects of the relationship overall was still there .

LIKE THEY ACTUALLY ARE BOYFIE GIRLFIE!!!!! like ohhh u thought i was done w giving ss ?? NOPE. SAVING BEST FOR LAST .

THE WAY HE WANTED TO HEAR IT AGAIN AGAIAJSNN AND THEN SAID IT HMSELF / AGREED TO IT. OHHH THIS IS SUCH A WINNNN. THEY LOVE ESCH OTHER!!!!!!!!!

and then taesan adjusting the H.D. pendant for her IH MY GOSHHHH YES LLEASE . its so subtle but reading that had me like wanting to take actual laps . A marathon even . AND THENNN THE WAY HE WAS complimenting her sayinf she looks good everyday like PLUEHAHS .

and the way he remembers like sm about her…. like wdym u still rmbr that 🤭 hes so sweet this is sickening . LIKE HE EVEN REMEMBERED THAT WISH LIKE OKAYYY bro was plotting since the get go.

WHEN THEY FREKAING KISSED OH HMKGODDDDDD a string of curse words flew out of my mouth that i will not be typing here . KIKE YESYEYSYSYS I WAS WAIITNGGFF AND RHATS LIKE SUCH A CUTE WAY TO BRING RHAT UP??? like okay taesan rizzler over here …

the way he wants that as his wish like please thats ur GIRLFRIEND !!! he’s so down bad like sir we see that blush even if u try to play it off . ITS SUCH A NEEDSDDD

WISH GRANTEDDDDD . THAT WAS RHE BEST ENDING I COULDVE EVER GOTTEN MY HEARY IS CONTENT . my heart is filled with taeyn moments i love it so much. lili granted My wish for providing such an amazing fic for us like GOODNESSSS this will be my bedtime story for the time being.

THE END OF MY SUPER LONG REBLOG!! ♡ i feel bad for my girl lili…. but this truly was wonders 😵‍💫 !!! I AWAIT FOR THE NEXT ONE HEHE ><

　ᅠ ✿　ᅠ NOT THAT I CARE OR ANYTHING　　────　ᅠ ( han taesan )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀your ex, seemingly sweet anton, spreads malicious rumours about you that could potentially ruin your entire academic weapon career, so you have to take desperate measures𑁋and that includes a fake-dating contract and the bane of your existence, han taesan.

　　　ᅠ 한태산 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 13k ⠀ genre college au fluff angst if you squint one sided rivals to lovers academic weapon x campus crush ⠀ contains mentions of food vulgar words skinship pet names ⠀ note i’m sorry if this fic is.. all over the place a bit coz,, yea!! but this fic is highly.. self-indulgent.. heheh! and i originally wanted to make this more angsty but i’m already sad and single so, No! anyways, enjoy reading ^_^ ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

“ALRIGHT. Let’s do it.”

As you gaze into Taesan’s determined eyes, the entire series of events flashes through your mind. 

It was back in your first year of university—early winter, the day of the first snowfall. You were walking towards the three-floor library, the cold wind stinging your eyes. You rushed inside, grateful for the gush of artificial warm air that greeted you as soon as the doors closed behind you. The library was quite packed for some reason, and you could barely spot any empty seats.

You walked towards the edge of the library, a corner with the largest window of the level. There it was—one of the only empty seats in the entire library—but that seat was next to a boy, heavily occupied with his studies. Your pace slowed down as you hesitated. The boy had a focused blank look on his face, his headphones on, and several papers and notebooks were scattered on the table around him.

You felt like you wanted to just leave and go back to your room, but remembering how cold it was outside, you decided against it. 

After taking a deep breath, you approached him. With a shaky smile, you tapped the boy’s shoulder, muttering a silent prayer. 

“Excuse me,” you said as he lowered his headphones to his neck. “May I sit here? I-I mean, if it’s cool with you..”

He simply nodded. “Sure.”

You had sat down next to the mysterious boy for the entire day, not knowing that, in the present, he would be the bane of your existence. 

In this moment, you’re brought back to the present, startled at how you’re standing in front of him. The mysterious boy that you had sat next to turned out to be Han “Taesan” Dongmin—KOZ School of Law’s campus crush. There’s almost nothing “bad” that you’re heard of him, yet, when you find yourself walking towards him with a fiery determination in your eyes—you immediately know that you’re about to get hit with something you’d never expect. 

“A-are you sure?” you say, surprised to even find yourself stuttering. You’ve held yourself to such a high reputation—being your school’s academic weapon—you’ve worked hard to keep yourself true to that name. 

Well, to be fair, you didn’t expect Taesan to even say yes to your ridiculous plan—given that all that’s he’s ever done for you is say everything that will get on your nerves.

Taesan gives you a smirk. “Of course,” he says, clearing his throat. “Being the boyfriend of KOZ Academy’s academic weapon isn’t something you get to do everyday.”

The way he presses the emphasis on the word ‘boyfriend’ makes you flinch. It reminds you of your stupid plan; who in their right mind would offer Han Taesan—your rival—a fake dating deal just to make rumours about themselves go away?

“Right,” you roll your eyes. “Anyway, I think we need to enforce some guidelines and boundaries regarding this… set-up.”

Taesan shoves his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight to let himself stand more comfortably. The smirk still on his face, he replies, “alright. Hit me with all of ‘em.”

You whip your phone out, quickly showing him a document that you spent an entire night typing out—complete with every single thing he needed to do for you. 

“Here,” you say, frustrated at how Taesan’s smug smirk just never falters. 

Taesan runs a hand through his hair before leaning down to read through the document displayed on your phone. He finishes reading it quickly, taking a step closer to you after. He doesn’t say anything for a while, only to startle you by abruptly saying, “I agree.”

“What–?” you blurt out, surprised once again. You thought that Taesan would be more picky than– 

“Your terms are easy for me to do. However,” you narrow your eyes at the boy who’s towering in front of you. Of course he’s picky—he’s Taesan. “I’d like you to agree to my conditions as well. If I have to do some things for you, you’d have to do some things for me too.”

You sigh before nodding. How hard could it be? Besides, this whole ‘relationship’ you’re having with Taesan is merely a fake dating set-up. 

“Okay.”

Taesan whips out a full-blown smug smirk, making you roll your eyes. He pushes his glasses up his nose bridge, holding out two fingers. 

“First, you have to also put in the effort to make things real. Like, wearing my jersey when I have basketball games, and wearing my initials ‘round your neck,” he pushes his middle finger down, the smug grin still plastered on his face, “and secondly, you’ll have to let me kiss you anytime.”

The moment the word ‘kiss’ escapes his mouth, you choke on thin air. 

Why is my plan backfiring on me? 

“What? No–”

Taesan shrugs. “Basically, physical contact is allowed to be done anytime.”

You feel your face flush, immediately recalling the third condition that you showed Taesan. No physical affection unless needed. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that—it’s clashing with my third term.”

“But your first term: ‘the other party must always do his utmost best to make the relationship seem real’ exists, am I right?” Taesan objects relaxedly. “Then, my second term doesn’t clash with that. And I also do believe that that first term of yours comes before the rest. Am I right?”

You grit your teeth, sucking in a sharp breath. How could you forget? Taesan will always work to have the last word—be that in court or in conversations. 

Plus, he’s not entirely wrong. 

Though, you’ve never been someone who lets Taesan win willingly. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, your heart twisting in detest at the way Taesan’s face lights up with a smirk again. 

“Then, we have a deal?” Taesan asks. 

You stare into his dark brown eyes once again, registering what you’re about to commit yourself to. All just to get rid of your ex and the rumour he’s pulled you into. 

You hold out your hand, Taesan gladly reciprocating. 

“Deal.”

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IT didn’t hit you that you’re officially Han Taesan’s girlfriend that night. However, the next morning, right after the two of you signed the document at the coffee shop you always study at—it hit you like a million bricks from the sky. 

You’re in a “relationship” with the person you loathed the most for the past year. The exact same man who everyone adores, who’s called the it-boy, the campus crush—is now your most “beloved”. Freshman you would rather jump off a cliff than to offer her nemesis a fake-dating pact. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I guess. 

“Here,” Taesan hands you a velvet box—one that obviously contains jewellery of some sort. 

Of course. Han Taesan’s always prepared. 

You let out a deep sigh, knowing what’s inside. Despite that, you ask, “what’s this?”

Taesan gives you a grin, one that you always see him don during the countable times that he beats you in quizzes. “Open it—I’m sure you’ll like it.”

You run your fingers around the edges of the velvety box, sceptical at Taesan’s sudden soft tone. “Don’t talk to me like that,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. 

Taesan, instead of immediately throwing a scoff in your face, simply leans back into his seat with a chuckle. 

Not waiting for whatever reply he’s preparing to throw to you, you open the box. Your eyes lay upon a beautiful, dainty necklace with a “H.D” pendant, nested elegantly in the box. You bite back a gasp, though you’re unable to hide your surprise. The silver necklace is one of the most beautiful pieces of jewellery you’ve yet to lay your eyes upon—it’s dainty and simple, yet it screams elegance in the best way possible. 

You look up at Taesan, obviously bug-eyed. “What- I’m- thank you?”

Taesan throws his head back, laughing. He perches an eyebrow up, clearly amused. “What am I supposed to answer? ‘You’re welcome’?”

Oh. It’s part of his terms. 

You glare at him. 

Not missing a beat, Taesan says with a big grin on his face, “what is your lazy ass waiting for? Put it on—or do you need me to help with that?”

You massage your temples, tempted to stick your tongue out at him, hissing the obvious at him—that you do not want to wear his initials around your neck. 

“I don’t need your help,” you say between gritted teeth, harshly yanking the necklace from the box. You swiftly clasp the necklace around your neck, secretly surprised that you’re able to do so. 

Maintaining a glare, you retort, “I’m only wearing this stupid necklace because it’s part of your terms.”

You throw your gaze elsewhere, Taesan laughing his stomach out in the background. Why is he finding your irritated state so funny? 

The pendant feels cold against your skin, sending tingles. You gulp, feeling odd. You hadn’t announced your ‘relationship’ to your friends yet—but seeing you with Taesan’s initials could certainly start rumours. 

A part of you is jumping with triumph—your plan is starting to set its course, while another part of you is afraid of it all. What if you’re finally not good at something, no matter how much you try—pretending you’re in love with your rival, the bane of your existence?

“We’ll start slow,” you hear Taesan say, pulling you back into reality. You quickly morph into your stoic expression—one that you find yourself often putting up around people. “Like everyone else does. Soft launch.”

“Ah,” you manage, nodding. “Sounds good.”

“Even though that necklace certainly is a big jump for a soft launch,” Taesan voices, chuckling. His words cause you to narrow your eyes at him, hyper aware of the cold metal against your skin—a mark that Taesan managed to place on you. 

It’s all fake, you chant to yourself. Once Anton gets the message, it’ll all be over. 

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THE past few weeks had been a blur. Nothing was out of the ordinary—you attended classes, performed mootings and sent in assignments like usual. Though, only one thing that was out of the routine.

Taesan no longer felt like a thorn to your side. 

You still hate him—you despise the way he carries himself, so proud and confident. You wish you could punch his face for the way he’s so smooth with his words, the way that his charm works on everyone so well. You absolutely hate the way a handsome idiot like him had the potential to beat you in every single subject if you slacked for even a minute. 

Yet, to the public, he’s your boyfriend. 

A cliche: rivals to lovers, they say. 

Despite being the one proposing the whole fake dating plan, you had been the one following Taesan’s itinerary so far. The two of you had finally exchanged phone numbers, and at night, Taesan would always send a list of ideas on how to make the soft launch more obvious day by day. 

The first week, you found yourself wearing tops that highlighted the H.D pendant, styling your hair to make it more noticeable—you even went as far as attending Taesan’s birthday celebration to top the chances of people noticing the pendant. And Taesan didn’t inform you of this one, but you often found him telling his friends, yours, or random coursemates to pass you drinks and snacks. You had no idea how Taesan had gotten the list of all your favourite things to munch on, but you secretly did enjoy the free flow of snacks. Anton had passed you a snack from Taesan too—five packs of your favourite Choco Pie. You couldn’t forget the bewildered face Anton had as he passed them to you, eyes filled with question and a hint of jealousy.  

“What’s up with Han?” he asked.

You shoved the Choco Pies into your shoulder bag, biting back a smile. Who wouldn’t be jolly after getting five of their favourite tidbits? 

“How would I know?” you replied bitterly. You quickly turn away from Anton, the uncomfortable feeling of being around him overpowering the bubbly feeling you had from getting snacks. 

“Well, those Choco Pies are from him,” Anton repeated for the second time. “And I don’t recall him being anything but hostile to you.”

You suppress a scoff. “Maybe he’s had a change of heart? His brain is probably tired of coming up with things to try and outsmart me,” you muttered. As if. 

“Well, if anything—if that asshole tries to do anything to you, I’ll… be here for you, Y/N,” Anton said, taking a step closer. Your eyes widened and your jaw clenched. You quickly finished packing your bag up, swinging it over your shoulders. 

You said that last time, too. 

“Don’t talk to me, Anton,” you responded as monotony as possible before running out of the lecture hall, not giving Anton even a glance. 

The following weeks, Taesan was hanging out with you even more than the previous week. He wasn’t being too obvious, but to you, him walking slightly behind you and not throwing a loud sarcastic remark was already an apparent sign that would show everyone that your dynamics had changed. 

Anton had found yet another chance to corner you after a Public International Law lecture. You stayed back in the hall to reread your theoretical essay before sending it in. Behind you, Taesan was packing up his things, busy scrolling through something in his phone. 

“Hi, Y/N,” you froze when Anton’s voice reached your ear drums. 

You look up at him with a glare. “What do you want?”

Anton flashed his usual pitiful, soft smile. “Nothing. Just a meal with you—this week has been quite stressful for you, right? I heard that last Monday’s mooting was rough.”

“You’re not even a law student, Anton,” you seethed. The KOZ School of Business student ID card hanging on Anton’s neck looked extremely out of place amongst the ocean of law students. “Please kindly get lost, go back to the Business building.”

“My course mates are boring. Besides, you’re more fun to be around,” Anton replied. “I know we… haven’t been on good terms, but give me a chance to fix it all?”

You gritted your teeth, your hands beginning to shake. 

The audacity of this boy… where is my stupid fake boyfriend when I need him–?

“I think she clearly said for you to get lost, bud.”

You fought back a grin. Finally. 

“Han?” Anton tilted his head. “Wait– who are you to tell me that?”

Taesan stood next to you, his backpack dangling from one shoulder. His height towered significantly above you, making you standing right below his shoulders—enough to match Anton. “Who do you think I am?”

Anton’s eyes darted towards the pendant on your décolletage, his eyes bulging. “What the…” you heard him mutter under his breath. 

Taesan seemed to notice this too, and he swiftly pulled you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “So, get it now? Get lost, Lee, and give your ex some space. An ex is an ex for a reason.”

Anton then left with a fuming expression, leaving you in fits of relieved laughter after. You thanked Taesan, who simply responded with a polite smile. 

“By the end of this, don’t forget the wish, yeah?” he said, before walking out of the lecture hall. 

You stood there, blinking profusely. You had completely forgotten the last clause of your agreement with Taesan—once you were satisfied with his service, you had to grant him one wish. Anything that he wanted. 

You face palmed yourself. Why didn’t you think twice before typing that down? You mentally made a note to yourself to prepare your wallet for the outrageous request that the thorn in your side would make later on. 

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“ARE you and Taesan dating?” 

Sophia’s question makes you almost spit your lunch through your nose. 

“What?”

“Girl, don’t you dare pretend not,” Yunjin interrupts, pointing her spoon at you. “You literally have his initials as a necklace that you never take off! H.D., which means Han Dongmin, right? Isn’t that his real name?”

“It’s not like–”

“No, no. It’s so obvious! Taesan’s around you more now, and he even gave you a birthday present!”

Sophia smiles, “he looks at you so differently now!” 

Yunjin laughs, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, that too, I guess,” she then looks at you, directly in the eyes, “I guess Han Taesan and Y/N L/N have finally begun their lovers era, huh?”

You feel your cheeks warming up, and guilt fills your chest. You draw a sharp inhale before telling the girls the full story. And subconsciously, your fingers find the pendant, playing with it. 

“It’s fake,” you sigh, “I mean, not the necklace—he’s just pretending. I’m pretending, too. None of this is… real.”

Sophia gasps and Yunjin frowns. 

“Are you… sure? What for?” Sophia asks.

Yunjin nods in agreement. “I’ve always thought that dude had feelings for you, but I… I didn’t realise it’s actually wrong and my deductions were totally off.”

You scoff, though Yunjin’s words left you wondering. “Taesan doesn’t like me—have you girls seen how he treats me?”

“He treats you well,” Yunjin states plainly, shoving a spoonful of rice into her mouth. 

“No,” you immediately shake your head, “he hates seeing me happy! He always finds a way to stick his annoying nose into my life, mocking me. He’s like always, always there to only laugh at my face.” 

“Then why did he agree?” Sophia asks. 

“To what?”

“To fake date you,” she continues, taking a sip of her yakult. “Well, I’m sure you have a plan—a contract and all—don’t you?”

Your eyes widen. How do these two girls know you so well? 

“Yeah. I do. I’m doing all this because of Anton,” the look on your friends’ faces makes you feel a little relieved, “I need him to shut up about me.”

You recall the ridiculous rumour you’ve heard about you from Yunjin, that’s been going around like crazy—the rumour that you used to date Anton because he’s rich and that you used him as a bribe to get outstanding grades. Those close to you knew that is and would never become true—yet people are always jealous of others who have certain things better than them. 

It may seem like a small matter to some, but to you, it’s a matter of reputation. Your whole image and potentially, your graduation is at risk. What if the rumour reaches some professor and they report you? You couldn’t risk the huge amount of money and time you spent, only to be scrapped off the dean’s list due to some rumour. 

Yunjin herself had recorded proof of Anton trying to turn her against you, using that rumour. If she hadn’t shown you the recording, you wouldn’t have believed that sweet, kind Anton was the one who spread those malicious whispers about you.

Now, you’ve got to end it all. One way or another.

You continue finishing your lunch, Taesan somehow in mind. By the end of your lunch, you’re convinced that this is truly all an act—it’s nothing real, and in the end, you’re both just people who hate each other and use each other for selfish, personal reasons.

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“DO I really have to wear your ugly varsity jacket?” Dongmin hears you grunt through the call. He stifles a laugh, tossing a ball up and down. 

“Obviously, you dimwit,” he replies, “you’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Dongmin lets himself smile. The word rolls off his tongue like a simple melody—it feels natural for him to say. He finds it odd, yet entertaining—your reaction is worth it all. Besides, it’s quite refreshing to take a break from hating you, sometimes. 

“Besides, your ex is going to be there,” Dongmin reminds, his voice more throaty than expected. “He’s on the team as well, remember?”

“Yeah,” he catches your quiet answer.  

“Anyway, how do you even have time for all this?” you question from the other end of the line. 

“Hmm,” Dongmin hums, “I do have time.” 

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” you hiss. “You’re in law school, Han Taesan.”

“What? Like it’s hard?”

Dongmin lets out a hearty laugh as he hears you gasp—one of the loudest and most genuine expressions he’s gotten out of you yet. 

“I’m so done with you,” you huff. Dongmin hears you shuffle through your closet, most likely finding something to wear. 

“You say that everytime,” Dongmin whispers to himself softly. 

“Anyway,” you announce loudly, “you better have some food for me once I arrive—I’m wearing your stupid varsity jacket.”

“Alright, sweetheart, anything for you,” Dongmin jests in a sing -song voice.

He hears you yelp in disgust, chuckling. “Yuck! Fuck off, Taesan!”

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IT’S a friendly match, nothing serious, Taesan had said; yet you’re here amongst other significant others, to watch him and his team play against another school’s team. 

At the bleachers, you feel called out, and insanely out of place. Everyone looks so in love—girlfriends wearing jerseys with their boyfriends’ numbers and names on the back, painted their faces accordingly, and even cheering for them with their hearts; mothers and siblings gathering together to support their sons and brothers.

Everyone looks so genuinely in love, and you’re the only one who’s there just because you have to. You arrived only two minutes before the match started, too, because you obviously don’t love Taesan enough to be rescheduling your work shift to see him play.

You fidget with the edges of the varsity jacket you’re wearing, oddly feeling how it’s perfectly oversized on you. 

Earlier, Taesan had spotted you sitting awkwardly on the bleachers. He ran over to you, quickly handing you a quesadilla and a cup of bubble tea, before jogging back to the basketball court to warm up. He didn’t say anything, nor did you—but the gesture made you feel weirdly fuzzy. 

Taesan did actually get you some food, even though you grumpily yelled at him to do so. You thought he wouldn’t, just so that he could get on your nerves, just like he always does. 

You watch him and the team warm up, pumping up positive energy with each other. You take a bite of your quesadilla, trying to ease your heart—yet you just can’t forget the real reason why you’re here. 

Jersey number 35.

The whistle blows, indicating the start of the game, and you catch Anton’s glance at you. He gives you a wide smile, winking twice—a sign that he made up, thanking you for coming, just like the old days. You grimace, turning away.

The mission is to make it seem like I’m in love with Taesan. 

You intently watch Taesan play in the arena, his moves sharp and powerful. He slips through the opposition’s defense flawlessly, scoring goals smoothly. Every time he throws the ball, it gets into the hoop—people erupt in cheers and he’s surrounded by his teammates. 

And every time, Taesan looks up at you, flashing his signature smirk. His grin sparkles, lighting up the room—it makes you feel like you’re the only one in the huge arena. 

It makes you feel odd. 

Like there’s so much more under that grin he flashes to you every time he scores. 

You touch the pendant on your décolletage, the cold metal stinging against your skin. Your fingers trace the letters—the initials of Taesan’s birth name—reminding you this is all a set-up. You’re supposed to pretend, and Taesan is pretending too. 

He must be.

Taking a deep breath, you tug the varsity jacket closer to your body, shoving your hands into its pockets. The weight of Taesan’s name and number lay heavy on your back, yet you don a bright smile—trying your best to show your support for him. 

Right now, you’re Han Taesan’s girlfriend. Player number 11’s girlfriend.

The match ends with Anton’s final goal, and KOZ Academy’s team wins 115-113. The entire gym erupts in waves of cheer and heartfelt hugs, every attending person feeling proud of their team, losing or not. You jog down the stairs, heading towards Taesan, whose height stands out in the crowd. 

When you reach the end of the stairs, you notice Anton’s gaze on you. You glance at him, the weight of past memories dragging you down. At the end of these exact same stairs, you used to run straight to Anton, engulfing him in a hug after a match. You used to kiss his cheek, congratulating him for a successful game. You used to feel like your entire world revolved around him, and that you would be happy with him. 

But that was in the past. Now, you can look at Anton with nothing in your heart. You feel nothing but plain resentment—damning him for the things he did to you. You had thought he was the love of your life, that you’d grow old with him—but Anton had other plans, and another girl that he prioritised more than you. 

You turn your head away, directing your gaze towards Taesan. He’s talking to his friends, his hair wet from the sweat. He’s grinning proudly, talking about something that’s interesting to boys. 

You sigh. Hopefully this whole set-up works—Anton leaves you alone, the rumours die down, and you can go back to bashing Taesan’s head. 

And hopefully, you can move on, too. Once and for all.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Anton take a step towards you. Though, what you don’t see is that Taesan is faster. He waves at you, calling your name with a big grin, before running to give you a hug. 

Your eyes widen upon the impact, and it’s like everything is in slow motion. 

Taesan pulls away, ruffling your hair. His eyes crinkle with his grin. “Are you proud of me, darling?”

Darling. 

You gulp. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

You give him a laugh, trying your best to not make it sound staged. Your nose crinkles at the smell of sweaty boys. Taesan notices, of course, and he chuckles. 

“Sorry, I must smell bad. I’ll be sure to spray on some more deodorant next time.”

You gaze into Taesan’s eyes, his arms still around your waist. There’s some kind of softness behind his teasing look—something that you’ve never seen before. 

A small smile forms on your lips, one that you’re unable to hold back. “Good job, Taesan.”

“Yeah?” Taesan laughs, his eyes forming crescent moons. “Thanks, Y/N.”

He then leans in to whisper, “that’s the first time I’ve heard that from you.”

You push him away, rolling your eyes. “Fuck off, Taesan. I’ll be waiting at the bus stop.”

Taesan laughs loudly as you stomp away. “By the way,” he yells, “you look good wearing my number, sweetheart!”

You lower your head, biting your lips to fight two things—the urge to flash the middle finger to the jolly Taesan behind you, and the weird fluttering feeling that erupts in your stomach every time he calls you ‘sweetheart’.

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“Y/N,” you turn around, finding a panting Anton in front of you. 

You’re standing in line outside one of the most famous pasta restaurants in the heart of the KOZ School of Medicine square, waiting to buy this one pasta dish you’ve been craving for the entire month. You didn’t tell anyone you’d be here—not even Taesan or the girls—so you’re weirded out by the fact that your ex found you here.

“...Anton,” you curtly acknowledge. 

“Is it true?” he asks. 

You force your eyes close for a second, wishing that it wasn’t wrong to beat someone up. “What?”

“That you’re dating Han Taesan. I saw him kissing your cheek last time.”

Your heart almost stops beating for a second. Almost two months have passed, and almost everyone in the entire campus of KOZ Academy knows that you and Taesan are finally getting tired of fighting each other—falling in love instead. 

Your plan has passed the soft launch phase, and now, you’re having your nemesis call you sweet, adoring nicknames out in public. 

“Yes,” you answer, managing a deadpan expression. “What about it?”

“Do you love him?” 

You narrow your eyes at Anton, feeling like if he keeps on shooting questions like this, he’d go home with a black eye. “Why does it matter if I love him or not?”

“Because,” Anton starts, his voice beginning to waver with every following word, “you used to love me.”

His words hang in the air, thick with a known, cursed history. You could hear your heart stutter for a split second, but you shake your head, quickly suppressing the feeling. You take in a sharp breath, feeling the heat of old anger rise in your chest. You force yourself to look at Anton, eyes hardening.

“That was two years ago, Anton,” you say, your voice detached. “And you made sure to end it, remember?”

Anton’s face flickers with something—guilt, regret, maybe even a hint of fear—but you’re not interested in seeing it. You’re sick of it—too familiar with the way he can spin his words to make himself seem like the victim.

“You don’t get to do this,” you continued, lips tightening into a thin line. “You don’t get to just show up and act like we can pick up where we left off, after what you did with Mina."

Anton’s face darkens the moment your old best friend’s name leaves your mouth, but you hold his gaze without flinching. Anton opens his mouth, probably to throw another lame and poorly explained excuse that you’ve heard before, but you’re faster than he is. 

“Save it,” you snap. “You don’t have any right to ask me if I love Taesan after what you did. You lost that right the moment you lied to me and slept with her.”

Anton looks taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected you to bring that up, but obviously, you don’t care. You’ve held your feelings in for so long—leaving them behind quietly to try and move on without a commotion. You’ve spent enough time letting him walk all over you in the past—you’re not about to let him do it again.

For a moment, Anton looks like he’s about to say something more, but you don’t give him a chance. You turn away, taking a small step back as you glance briefly at the line in front of you. “I’m done with this conversation, Anton. You should be, too.”

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THE next morning, after your first class of the day, you sigh as you find yourself waiting outside of a rather packed coffee shop—allegedly Taesan’s favourite one—bundled up in Taesan’s scarf. Autumn is starting to give way to winter, and as it’s doing so, the winds and temperatures are getting crazier. You bury your face further into the softness of Taesan’s scarf, letting the mixture of champagne orange, passion fruit, and sugar vanilla attack your senses. It’s disturbing, once the fact that the scarf that’s warming you up belongs to Taesan registers in your head; however, you had no choice. Freezing your nose off was the only other option. 

“Hey,” you hear Taesan’s voice, turning instantly towards him. 

“Apple pie latte?” he says, handing you a warm cup of said coffee. Grabbing it from him, you perk your eyebrows up. 

“How did you know?” you say, pushing the scarf down. Taesan shrugs, sipping his own drink. You glance at the sticker on his cup: cinnamon maple latte.

“Instincts.”

You snicker at his reply, rolling your eyes. “Cut me some slack.”

The two of you then walk back towards the law school complex, where both of your classes will be held next. The winds begin to blow, and you find yourself hiding half your face behind Taesan’s scarf. You squint your eyes, blinking harshly as the stray strands of hair sting them. 

“I love autumn, but not this kind,” you mumble. 

Taesan glances at you, and in one swift motion, he grabs your free hand and shoves it into the pocket of his coat. He interlaces his hand with yours, letting his body warmth transfer to you. 

Your eyes widen, your brain slow at processing the situation. You whip your head towards the tall man walking with you, his expression relaxed as ever. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss, trying to pull away. 

Taesan gives you a look that yells ‘really, Y/N?’. “Keeping you warm?”

“I don’t need your help,” you retort, yanking your hand away. 

Taesan grabs it back, shoving it into his pocket. This time, his grip on your hand is firmer than before. “I don’t need my girlfriend to freeze to death—it’s going to ruin my reputation.”

Realisation hits you, again, like a ton of bricks right at the face. 

Oh. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, letting him do his thing. You look away, deciding to admire the surrounding golden trees. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself of how this whole ‘thing’ with Taesan is temporary—and having a personal heat packet isn’t too bad. 

Once the two of you reach the lecture hall together, people begin to clearly spectate. You pull your hand away from him, rushing to your usual seat. Taesan, his expression calm as he always is, walks over to his usual seat as well—directly behind you. 

Then, two minutes before the lecture starts, the person you truly hated comes into view, and decides to sit at the empty seat next to you.��

“Hi, Y/N,” your ex, Anton, greets you with the biggest smile on his face. You mentally sob—already dreading the three hours to come.

You turn away, scooting as far as you could. The memories rush like a flood you can’t stop—reminding you of the heart-tearing pain the boy sitting next to you caused. 

“Y/N? You alright? You look pale,” Anton says, probing further.

“It’s the weather,” you reply dully, your lips downturned. You unravel Taesan’s scarf from your neck, placing it on your lap. Your eyes fixed onto the lecture, you ignore Anton’s attempts to get you conversing with him. 

“Y/N, are you free after class?” Anton whispers, twenty minutes into the lecture. 

“No.” You give him a side glance.

“And you don’t even take IT,” you fake a smile, “so I don’t think you should even be here. With due respect, get lost, yeah?”

“I’m honoured,” Anton whispers back. The soft smile on his face makes you gag. “You still remember things about me.”

“Oh, please,” you grimace, anger beginning to bubble up inside of you. “I’d rather make out with Taesan than remember even the tiniest bit of–”

You suck in your breath sharply, your cheeks flushing at an alarming rate. You had blurted your words out too fast to even register the fact that you’re actually wearing the said person’s initials in a necklace ‘round your neck. 

“You’d rather what now, sweetheart?” 

Hearing Taesan’s voice, you can almost see his smug smirk decorating that annoyingly attractive face of his. 

Your eyes widen. 

I did not just admit that.

You turn to Taesan for a moment, flashing him a sheepish smile. You quickly spin back to face the lecture, forcing yourself to focus. 

After the lecture concluded, you find yourself stuck in a sticky situation—Anton just can’t let you go out. 

“Do you want to go and grab lunch together? It’s pretty late for lunch, and I know your stomach gets upset easily if you don’t eat,” you wince upon hearing his soft tone. 

You frown, hating the fact that Anton knows almost a lot of things about you. “No, Anton, I’m sure I said–”

“She said no, Lee, I’m sure even a stupid motherfucker can understand.”

Seeing Anton’s eyes almost pop out at the sight of Taesan next to you, you’re sure that you look the same. You turn sharply towards Taesan, who has his hand perfectly placed on your back. The look on his face is fierce and scary, like he’s about to completely destroy Anton exactly where he’s standing.  

“Han,” Anton addresses him curtly. “I didn’t know that you’re on… good terms with Y/N.”

You fidget with the charm on your décolletage, collecting every bit of energy you have to maintain a stoic expression. 

Taesan flashes a sly smirk, pride radiating from his eyes as the corners of Anton’s lips twitch. “Why? Is it important to you who I’m close to?”

“No, but given your history with Y/N—I don’t want her to get hurt,” Anton blathers, “so I’m gladly asking you to–”

“What? Fuck off?” Taesan scoffs. Your eyes bulge, somehow not expecting Taesan’s choice of words to be so vulgar. “I think that’s what you’re supposed to do, Lee.”

“Y/N,” Anton says, desperation vivid in his voice. He grabs your wrist, and you instinctively step back. “C’mon, let’s go. I know you don’t like this stupid asshole here–”

Before you could even act, Taesan steps in front of you, shoving Anton to the floor. The students who are still lingering around stop to look. You couldn’t hold in your gasp—Taesan looks extremely angry, you swear you could see fire in his eyes. 

A thought clicks into your head. 

Taesan is the it-boy, of course he’s good at acting.

You take a step back, weirded by the heavy feeling of disappointment that begins to cloud your heart as soon as you remember the arrangement. 

It’s just acting, Y/N. Get it together. 

“Don’t touch her, bastard,” you hear Taesan hiss before he turns to you. Anger still lingering around, you watch with silence as Taesan relaxes the tension in his jaw. In a mirroring silence, he gestures for you to follow him out. You nod.

As you turn on your heel, Anton calls out, visibly irritated. 

“Y/N,” he says, “what’s going on?”

You give him a mocking smile. You swing Taesan’s scarf around your neck. “I don’t think I owe you an explanation, Anton.”

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AS you and Taesan walk out of the lecture hall, you can’t ignore the heavy weight settling in your chest. It keeps replaying in your mind: the way Taesan stepped in, fiercely protective—it’s all an act, right? You sneak a glance at Taesan, but his face is unreadable, his jaw still slightly clenched from the encounter.

“Taesan… you didn’t have to do that,” you mumble, playing with the hem of his scarf.

Taesan exhales through his nose, his shoulders rising slightly. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he then adds under his breath, “fucking bastard.”

You blink, unintentionally slowing your steps. That’s… different from what you expected.

“Taesan,” you try again, but he shoves his hands into his pockets, picking up the pace.

You know you should just let it go, but the air between the two of you feels heavier than it was before. Was it just an act? Maybe it was—and that Taesan’s acting skills are as good as the rom-com actors—but something about the way he had looked at Anton; like he was seconds away from doing more than just shoving him to the ground. 

It feels too… real.

A sudden gust of wind cuts through your coat, making you shiver. Instantly, Taesan grabs your wrist and pulls you into a nearby convenience store.

“Sit,” he orders, disappearing for a moment. You watch him move through the aisles, confusion twisting in your chest. You take a seat exactly where he ordered you to, your head fuzzy from the mixture of confusing, unnamed emotions.

When he returns, he kneels slightly, pressing a warm drink and a heat pack into her hands, his fingers lingering just a second too long.

“You’re hopeless,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “First my scarf, now this.”

You gasp dramatically, rolling your eyes as your lips twitch, your heart knocking against your ribs. “You’re the one who keeps giving me things.”

Taesan just hums in response, his gaze locking onto yours. His usual unreadable expression softens, something almost unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Your grip tightens on the cup, trying to shake off the way your body reacts to his warmth. This whole thing with Taesan was supposed to be temporary. So why did it feel like something had changed?

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DONGMIN takes several deep breaths, his eyes shut. The jazz music plays in the background, and the buzz of the cafe calms him down. 

No wonder Y/N likes this place. 

Dongmin opens his eyes, finding himself staring at you ordering drinks and some food for the two of you. You had dragged him here as soon as you finished your drink at the convenience store, repeating that you needed to treat him to some food. Your voice rings in his head, telling him that he needed to follow you to the coffee shop, to cool off his steam. 

“Do you like apple pie?” you ask, setting a plate of two slices of said dessert, accompanied by two scoops of vanilla ice cream.

“Why do you even ask if you’ve already gotten it? Seems like my preference doesn’t matter,” Dongmin replies, putting on the usual smirk. 

Your eyes widen and he chuckles. 

“Well,” you huff, “I like apple pie—and it’s impossible to find someone who doesn’t.”

“Alright,” Dongmin laughs, and it hits. His laughter dies down as the realisation sinks in—watching you devour your slice of apple pie like it’s the only food you’ll eat until the end of time. 

Dongmin, as he puts a bite of his food into his mouth, realises how messed up he is. He realises how often a hearty laugh escapes him when he’s with you—how a flustered, frustrated mess you make him. 

“Why are you being nice to me?” Dongmin asks. He pokes his fork absentmindedly into the crust of the apple pie, second guessing his question the moment it leaves him. 

You and he had always, always been rivals—a pair that’s never meant to get along. He’d always find you muttering curses and throwing glares in his direction; and he’d always find himself trying his best to reciprocate your disdain for him. 

Dongmin does hate you, too. 

He hates how you’re so confident, so diligent, so talented. He despises how hard you work, how determined you are, how you seem to always effortlessly bring him down and defeat him in academics. He feels the most intense dislike for you—whenever you walk in the room, he feels like the world is about to explode, along with his sanity. 

Dongmin hates, with a burning passion, how he can’t stop himself from falling in love with you. He absolutely loathes the way you smile, the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, and the way you look at him—with such fiery determination that’s enough to knock him off his feet. He completely hates the way that he has to keep his tongue sharp, and his attitude insufferable, for you to give him a sliver of your attention. He perfectly hates the way it’s impossible for him to let you know that he doesn’t hate you, at all. 

Dongmin watches you open your mouth to reply, yet you don’t for a few moments. You return his gaze, uncertainty playing around in her eyes. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion. “We’re just eating apple pie, Taesan,” you laugh sheepishly. 

For the first time, Dongmin doesn’t have an immediate answer. He swallows the bite of apple pie in his mouth, unsure of what he should say next. His smirk fades and hesitation engulfs him.

You notice this, of course, and your frown deepens. Though, before you could do anything, Jaehyun—Dongmin’s friend, suddenly appears.

He greets Dongmin, patting his shoulder. “Yo, Taesan, long time no see! Wait–” he pauses, laying his eyes on you. “Wait, am I dreaming? You two? Sitting together? Laughing? Are pigs flying now?”

You immediately shake your head, laughing along with Jaehyun. Dongmin, on the other hand, is dazed. He stays silent, still unsure of what to say. He’s finding everything peculiar—the way he’s unable to say anything, the way that his heart is thumping loudly against his chest at the mention of you as his girlfriend. 

He watches you politely say goodbye to Jaehyun, gaining certainty with every beat of his heart. 

His little crush on you is resurfacing, after two years of pushing it down with faked hatred. 

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AFTER Jaehyun leaves, you let yourself sneak a glance at Taesan, who’s absentmindedly poking holes in his already destroyed pie crust, avoiding your gaze. You notice his oddly quiet state—the Taesan you know would never miss the chance to throw in a witty remark. 

You throw him a glare, slightly hoping it’d make him knock out of his trance. You set your fork down with an audible clink. “You’re being weird. I mean, you always are insufferably weird, but this is even weirder.”

Taesan scoffs, lifting his drink to his lips. “And you’re being annoying. Paranoid.”

You cross your arms, an annoyed grimace forming on your face. “Am I?”

Taesan holds your gaze for a moment too long, something flickering in his eyes before he looks away. “Maybe not.”

Oh.

You lean back, sighing dramatically. “Fine. I don’t get what you being weird has with me being paranoid, but yeah, I’m totally being paranoid. Definitely imagining things,” you scoff sarcastically.

Taesan hums in agreement. “You do that a lot.”

You choke on air. Glaring at Taesan, you retort, “you’re infuriating.”

“And yet, here you are, sharing dessert with me,” Taesan smirks, tilting his head. 

You pause, blinking profusely.

That… is a valid point. How did you even get here? You and Taesan are supposed to be rivals. Aren’t you supposed to hate each other?

Your stomach twists, and suddenly, you find it difficult to swallow your final bites of apple pie.

After moments of deafening silence, you say, your voice slightly wavering, “you’re unbelievably good at dodging questions, Taesan.”

You bring your drink to your lips, hoping that you sounded casual. 

Taesan looks up from his finished plate of apple pie, smirking as he leans back. “Oh, yeah? Have you ever considered that you’re too good at asking too many questions, and it’s insufferable?”

Your eyes widen slightly, flickering to the way that his eyes glare vaguely at you. “Maybe I am,” you admit quietly, “but you’re dodging the real ones.”

Taesan’s smirk falters a little bit, just for a second, and there’s something unrecognisable in his eyes. Something you can’t put a name on. 

Maybe a shift in the air. Maybe it’s just your imagination. Or maybe it’s because your heart is racing just a little too fast.

You’re so focused on trying to read Taesan’s expressions that you don’t notice the way your voice softens. “So… if this whole thing is an act, why do I keep feeling like you actually care?”

You mentally hit yourself. That isn’t what you meant to say—and it’s certainly not what you would say in front of Taesan.

Though, it’s out before you can stop yourself. The words hang in the air, heavy and uncertain.

Taesan freezes, his eyes widening with a vulnerability for a fraction of a second. Then, just as quickly as it came, his guard comes back up. “Like we’ve discussed before, it’s an act. Nothing more.”

His voice is stern and plain, and his expression is stoic, but you catch the tremble in his hand as he’s fiddling with his fork. 

That, somehow, doesn’t sit right with you. 

You learn forward, the pendant swinging against your décolletage, your expression more serious now. “Then why do you care so much?”

You watch him closely, catching the tightening in his jaw and the way his hand proceeds to rest on the table, fingers anxiously tapping against the wood. Taesan doesn’t answer immediately, and instead, he looks away to drift his gaze to the window.

Your chest suddenly tightens. He’s acting like this is nothing, but you certainly feel it—the crack in the walls you’ve both constructed carefully against each other. It’s a tug at the back of your mind, a repeating whisper you’ve been trying so hard to push away.

And yet, the silence between you feels louder than ever.

Minutes pass by and the silence gets louder and louder. You’re lost in your own thoughts—realising just how much you’re affected by Taesan; just how much more you’re feeling than you want to admit. In the silence, you’re wondering, are you just imagining all this? Maybe it’s just you, maybe it’s the fact that you’re finding something more from this fake relationship you have with Taesan, your nemesis. 

Though, there’s something that you can’t deny: the fact that your chest tightens with fluttering butterflies every time he gets too close, every time his words shift to something softer than usual, it’s something that makes your heart trip in your chest.

“Y/N,” Taesan calls, his voice softer than anticipated, and you’re pulled out of your train of thought. You look at him slowly, uncertain and afraid of what’s to come. He pauses, as if he’s unsure of what to say next. “What if… I told you I’m not sure if I can pretend much longer?” 

His gaze finally meets yours, and for a moment, there’s no mask—just the raw sincerity in his eyes.

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You open your mouth, trying to say something—but nothing comes out. The evident truth in his words hits you like an ocean wave on a sunny day, and you can’t help but feel something is shifting between you both.

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THE next few weeks pass by like a ridiculously large time-skip in a movie. You’re doing things like you usually do—attend classes, do mootings, send in assignments, study for exams. Though, there’s one big thing in your life that you can’t ignore—Taesan, your fake-dating arrangement, and the lingering, unspoken tension between the two of you. The first week after the coffee shop episode, you couldn’t sleep even a wink—your mind kept on replaying the scenes over and over again, the way you caught Taesan’s guard almost falling down. You’re sure you felt it too, the cracks in the walls you’ve built against him—even for a short moment. 

At school, you’re hyper aware and extra distracted by Taesan. He’s doing his part of the agreement well, acting like he agreed he would. Every glance from him feels like a load of unspoken words, and the air between you two feels heavy. Every day you ponder, unsure of what to do with the new, fragile tension that’s settled between you and Taesan.

Today is the same—everything passes in a blur of lectures, assignments, and studying. You drag your heavy footsteps out of the room, your head spinning at the thought of the many assignments waiting for you. You look up, and the moment you step into the hallway, you see Taesan leaning against the wall, phone in hand, looking as calm as ever. 

You walk near him, and your eyes meet—you see a flicker of something there—a tension, a question neither of you have the answer to. 

“Y/N,” Taesan greets you with a casual, unreadable smile. You pause in your steps, turning to face him.

“Hi,” you reply quite timidly. You’re trying to sound casual, but you can hear the slight hitch in your voice. There’s no pretending this isn’t different now. There’s no pretending you didn’t almost cross a line last time. 

Taesan takes a final glance at his phone before shoving it into his pocket. “Still pretending this is just an act?” he asks, his voice surprisingly soft but laced with something familiar, almost teasing.

You pause, your breath stuck in your throat. Your heart, yet again, skips a beat, and you try to brush it off by laughing nervously. “Me? Pretending? I’m not pretending,” you say, and it’s directed more towards yourself than to him.

You’re not sure who’s trying to convince who anymore.

Taesan looks taken aback. He blinks profusely before putting his usual, calm expression back on. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding, “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You watch him walk away, heart twisting in the weirdest way. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

DONGMIN hates the way everything is now. Why can’t he just tell you everything? Why can’t he just tell you that he isn’t pretending, that he actually cares?

He wants to stop everything–going back to shoving insults at your face might be the safest option of them all. Yet, Dongmin finds himself caring for you in the little ways—wrapping his scarf around your neck, adjusting the placement of your bangs with a simple ruffle, placing a tin of coffee and bread in front of you whenever you seem exhausted with studying, sliding post-its to you with his handwriting reminding you to take breaks when needed. He still finds his heart racing upon seeing you; the way your lips pout when you’re deep in thought, the way you smile and laugh so adorably upon hearing a funny joke from your friends, the way you’re still so cute even when frustrated. 

As he walks away, Dongmin fights with his own heart. Why was he acting like this? It’s so clear that you’re expecting something more, but why is he pushing you away? 

Dongmin takes a deep breath. Yeah, he’s scared. He’s afraid that maybe it’s all in his head, maybe you’re the one acting so well and it’s just gotten to him. 

Dongmin swears to get himself together, but it looks like he’s going to need more than just mental affirmations. 

The next day, he misses his alarm, for the first time in forever, and is running late to his 9 AM lecture. He’s speed walking through students, dodging them with a bag hanging on one shoulder and his hair still partially wet. Just as he’s about to near the entrance of the Law building, he hears raised voices nearby. He puts his hood up, his first instinct is to ignore it all—he’s got no time to eavesdrop on people’s business. However, he recognises one of the two quarrelling voices—yours. 

Dongmin’s steps come to a halt, and he turns to face you. His eyes slightly widen and his shoulders begin to tense as he sees you and Anton standing a few feet away, locked in an argument. He’s a bit too far away to hear the full conversation, yet he catches some bits of it.

You’re standing at your full height, stiffly in front of Anton, arms crossed and eyes blazing with fury. Anton, on the opposite side of you, no longer has that sickening, innocent smile—instead, he’s flashing you a mocking smirk. 

The argument is already reaching its peak, yet Dongmin is quick to analyse the situation just by picking up a few bits. 

“You think you’re really something, don’t you?” Anton taunts.

You scoff. Dongmin could tell you’re offended, yet the mask you put on really makes a difference. “At least I don’t have to put other people down to feel important.”

Anton scoffs back, “please. You act like you’re above all this, but you’re just as desperate for attention as everyone else.”

Dongmin clenches his jaw, watching the argument unfold as his fingers begin to twitch. 

You give Anton a mocking laugh, stepping forward. “I don’t care what you think, Anton Lee. I don’t care if you think I don’t love Taesan, because what matters is my own feelings, not yours. And I’m done wasting my time on you.”

Before you could turn away and enter the building, Anton grabs your wrist. 

It’s not aggressive, but it’s enough. Enough to make Dongmin see red.

Everything’s a blur—one second later, he’s towering in front of Anton, his eyes glaring daggers. 

“Let her go,” his voice is low and threatening, as sharp as a blade. 

Anton looks up, initially startled, but as soon as he sees Dongmin, he rolls his eyes. His hand still around your wrist, he says with a sneer, “look who’s here, Y/N’s knight in shining armour! Oh, so great, always the hero.”

Dongmin is too busy counting down the ways he could destroy Anton’s life to be noticing how immediate the warmth creeps up your cheeks. Dongmin, in one fluid motion, steps closer, standing between you and Anton. 

“Did you hear me?” his voice drops deadly lower than before, his posture relaxed yet his eyes are dangerous. “Let. Go.”

Anton huffs, roughly letting go of your hand. He shakes his head. “You two are seriously something else,” he mutters before storming away. 

You and Dongmin stand next to each other, cautiously eyeing Anton until he disappears from sight. For that moment, none of you say anything.

“What was that for?” you say suddenly, crossing your arms. “I didn’t need you to step in.”

Dongmin shoves his hood down to his neck, raising his eyebrow. Feeling slightly irritated, he scorns. “Yeah? Looked like you were having a great time.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, but something pinches Dongmin’s heart as he notices there’s no real bite behind it. “I’m fine—I had it all handled.”

Silence. 

Dongmin exhales sharply, words shooting out of his mouth without second thought. “I know. It’s just–” 

He stops, his eyes landing on your wrist. Closes his mouth. 

You wait for a few moments, before warily asking. “What? Just what?”

Dongmin hesitates. Suddenly, it’s all he can push out of his throat. He’s already there, halfway crossing the line he’s put between you and him for the past two years. 

And then, it just… slips out. 

“I just can’t stand it, okay?”

Your frown deepens, confused. “Stand… what?”

Dongmin lets out a frustrated breath, turning sharply to completely face you. “I can’t stand seeing you with people like that fucking bastard. I can’t stand watching you get into these stupid situations. And I really, really can’t stand how much I—”

His eyes widen, and his words stumble upon a stop. Dongmin stammers, realising what he was just about to say. 

“Taesan,” you call, gently, hope suddenly shimmering in your eyes. “How much you what?”

Dongmin freezes. He’s silent, tongue frozen, unable to utter another word.

He can’t say it. 

Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, muttering curses under his breath. 

“You know what?” 

“Taesan–”

“Next time,” he says quickly, in a softer voice, “don’t… waste your time on a guy like him.”

Your eye contact is still intact, you open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Your eyes widen for a split second—as if you’re catching on to the feelings displayed, unknowingly, on Dongmin’s face. 

His concern is real.

“W-we should go,” you stammer instead, gesturing to the Law building. 

Dongmin nods. He grabs your backpack from you, signalling for you to walk in first. “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

You force yourself to walk as swiftly as possible to the lecture hall, heart pounding, mind racing. Behind you, Dongmin’s entire body is tense. He’s finally realising he can’t keep his feelings for you hidden forever.

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THE next day, you can’t stop thinking about Taesan—and whatever he was about to say to you. Your mind races with a million different thoughts throughout the day. What if he actually feels the same? What if you’re not the only one looking for something more in this fake arrangement?

However, given that exams are looming closer, you’re only given a short amount of time to dwell on your thoughts. After your last class of the day, you find yourself cooped up in the library, studying the rest of the day away. Several of your friends join you, too. 

The study group grows, joined by both your friends and Taesan’s—though, you didn’t even realise that Taesan is sitting across you the entire day, until everyone starts leaving one by one. 

By midnight, it’s only you and him. You don’t look up, but you can feel your heart thumping faster than usual. You’re hyper aware of your surroundings—how close he is, how his scent feels comforting yet intimidating, and how his presence is reminding you of something that you’re too afraid to admit. 

“Y/N,” you open your eyes to someone gently shaking your shoulder, the reality of things crashing onto you all at once. You lift your head up, realising that you fell asleep in the middle of reviewing a past paper. Your eyes meet with Taesan’s concerned gaze. 

His voice is low and soft, as if it’s only for you. “Let’s take a break. You’ve been snoozing off way too many times.”

Your heart is beating a little faster than usual, but you agree. Taesan’s request seems too casual, and he looks like he needs a break too. 

You follow his lead, walking a little bit behind him to the convenience store that’s still open in campus grounds. He’s silent, observing you and letting you pick anything you want before paying for both your things and his. 

“Go sit,” he says, holding your instant tteokbokki package in hand, along with his instant noodles. “I’ll heat these up.”

Taesan quickly moves to the microwave before you can say anything in retaliation, a sign that you take seriously. He’s not in the mood for any fights. 

You take a seat, and soon after, Taesan joins you. He puts your instant meal in front of you, breaking your chopsticks for you. 

“Here,” he says, his voice quiet. “Careful, the tteok is still hot.”

He then slips his coat around you before turning back to his own beverages. 

You find yourself staring at him, long after he’s handed you your things. You watch him, peacefully releasing his tension—running a hand through his hair, chugging down a cup of coffee. 

Everything around you looks like it has a blurred filter on, yet one thing is crystal clear: Taesan, and his evident care for you. The longer you stare at him, the more you realise.

He’s always been the one. He’s always been there. 

It hits you harder than any bad grade has ever done. 

Taesan has always been like this—quietly looking out for you, quietly caring for you. 

All this while, all the banter, the little arguments, moments, and glances—it’s not just rivalry. It’s not just the fact that he always finds a way to make you all grumbly and irritated. It’s not just the fact that, even back when you were with Anton, he’d always find a way to show his care for you. 

It’s not just the fact that you enjoy his company, even if he makes you feel like you want to bang your head against the wall. 

You like him. 

You like Han Taesan. 

You quickly turn your head away, blood rushing to your head as soon as the realisation hits you. You stuff a few bites of instant tteokbokki into your mouth, wanting to quickly get rid of whatever this warm, refreshing feeling is. 

“Can you stop looking at me like that, L/N?” 

You cough, shocked at how his sudden comment breaks through the almost comforting silence. All the past moments you’ve had with him—the banter, the insults, the arguments—run through your head as soon as your last name, what Taesan had always called you, reaches your ears.

“Like what?” emboldened by the awakening of your feelings, you retort, your tone more challenging than you intended. 

Taesan snaps, pushing his chair back, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. 

“Like I’m your fucking boyfriend.”

“What?” you’re confused, not expecting that out of his mouth. “What are you–”

“Like you’re waiting for me to say something that I know I can’t take back.”

“Say it, then.”

You say, challenging him. It feels sentimental—like the old days, where all you did when you met Taesan was throw taunting words at him. But at the same time, the words come out of your mouth without realising—daring the two of you to finally cross the line. 

“I like you, okay? I probably love you at this point, I don’t know. I don’t know when it started, but I do. And I—” He exhales sharply, his voice softer. “I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t.”

The world stops spinning and you stare at him, blank. 

Your tongue feels numb, your heart racing at a million miles per hour. 

You feel the same, you’re sure, but you don’t know how to respond. Do you smile and say it back? Do you tease him, calling him an idiot like you always do? 

“I didn’t mean to fall for you,” you catch Taesan muttering. 

You smile. “Me too,” you say softly. 

Taesan lifts his head immediately, sharply turning to you with widened eyes. “... pardon?”

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THE next few days feel like a refreshing spring breeze in the peak of winter, yet the air is filled with a cute awkwardness. After the confession, neither of you explicitly announce to one another that the two of you are a real couple now—yet your interactions feel new and unscripted, but no one exactly is making the first move. 

Of course, your friends notice before the two of you do. 

You’re sitting at the food hall together with Yunjin and Sophia, eating breakfast. You’re halfway through your pancakes, and Taesan—or Dongmin, as you call him now—suddenly takes a seat next to you. 

“Mind if I join, girls?” he asks, a charming grin on his face. He’s asking the table, yet his gaze is directed to you. You bite your lip shyly, nodding.  

“Sure, make yourself at home,” Yunjin says, her words laced with teasing. She watches with eagle eyes as Dongmin puts all of the sliced bananas from his serving of pancakes onto yours, knowing that you especially enjoy them with your breakfast pancakes. She snorts at the obvious look of love in Dongmin’s eyes, more evident now that he isn’t shoving insults at your face. “So, you two are really dating now?”

You choke on your bite of pancake, immediately blurting out,

“No!”

“Yes.”

You sharply turn to Dongmin, who has a smug look on his face. It’s the one look on his face that you’re used to, yet there’s a tint of pink on his cheeks. The edge of his smirk twitches, threatening to form into a cute, lovesick smile. 

“...I see,” Sophia interrupts your awkward eye contact, sighing dramatically. 

“We’re dating?” you ask Dongmin acutely, your brows connecting in an embarrassed frown. 

“I don’t know,” Dongmin shrugs casually, the look in his eyes teasing. “Are we?”

The blush that instantly creeps up your cheeks tells you the answer. You look away, suddenly focused on the way you’re cutting your pancakes. Dongmin’s laugh echoes to your left, and your friends’ send you teasing looks. 

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A few months later, on the first week back after winter break, you go on a walk around campus with your boyfriend, Han Dongmin. It feels weird, calling him yours now. Just almost half a year ago, you were fighting your ego to have your nemesis fake-date you in order to intimidate your ex into leaving you and your life alone. Now, that same thorn in your side has become the light of your life, the apple of your eye. Now, the two of you are in something that’s not written on a flimsy contract.

Dongmin had also helped clear out the rumours surrounding you—in the most annoying, Han Taesan way—announcing the truth about Anton by spreading it like a rumour to everyone. You still get second-hand embarrassment remembering that day, bombarded by questions and apologies from acquaintances and people you’ve only seen around. 

“You know,” you say dreamily, distracted by your train of thought, “you’re so annoying—but I love you.”

Dongmin freezes, his steps coming to an immediate halt. You, too, freeze in your steps as you realise you’re a few steps ahead of him now. You turn around, eyebrows perked up. “What’s wrong, Dongmin?”

Dongmin. 

The sound of your voice calling his birth name repeats in his mind, like a favourite song on loop. He stares, unable to say anything. His eyes fall on the pendant dangling from your neck, one that you started wearing due to the fake-dating arrangement. He remembered insisting that you take it off, so that he can buy you a new one later, but you said that it’s special so you won’t take it off. 

I love you. 

Dongmin feels a smile slowly bloom on his face. 

She said it. She didn’t even hesitate. It’s like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

His face softens, jogging up to you. He gives you a cheeky smile. 

“Say that again.”

You frown. “What again?”

“The first part.”

“What–” you pause, eyes widening as you get what he’s talking about. Heat rushes up your cheeks, warming your face despite Dongmin’s scarf wrapped around it. “I–”

“Yeah,” Dongmin says, smirking as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Me too.”

You bury yourself into the familiar scent of Dongmin’s scarf as he kisses your cheek. 

“Fuck you, Han Dongmin,” you grumble, ignoring the obvious butterflies in your stomach. 

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THAT weekend, you and Dongmin are eating lunch together at your favourite coffee shop. Dongmin had said that the vibes there makes him sleepy, and tried to bring you to eat at one of the more famous restaurants near the KOZ School of Engineering, yet the plan backfires on him when the line is certainly too long. 

Now, the two of you are back at your favourite coffee shop, sipping warm cinnamon lattes. 

“See?” you tease, smiling cheekily. “I told you this place is the best.”

Dongmin rolls his eyes, taking a big spoonful of the chocolate cinnamon roll on your plate. “I want to eat some real food, like kimchi jjigae, not these sweet chocolate desserts,” he complains, though he can’t hide the fact that he secretly loves it. 

“Yet you’re the one finishing my cinnamon roll,” you retort, letting him subconsciously finish your dessert. You’re familiar with his love for chocolate.

Dongmin flashes you an innocent smile, shrugging. “Not my fault.”

Comfortable silence engulfs the two of you, letting you bask in each other’s presence. Suddenly, Dongmin leans closer, adjusting the place of the H.D pendant on your décolletage. Frozen, you watch him lean back into his seat, smiling as he admires you. 

“You look good today,” he murmurs, “actually, you look good everyday.”

An undeniable tint of pink colours your face. “I’m literally wearing a black turtleneck sweater, Dongmin.”

His gaze softens. “Like the first time you sat next to me, three years ago, during our foundation year.”

Your eyes widen, your mind replaying the memory, fresh like it happened yesterday. “You… remember?” 

“Of course,” Dongmin replies, his smile delicate. 

“I even remember the day you walked up to me, confident and all. I thought you were going to brag to my face that you won first place for the quiz we had the day before, but then you told me to fake date you.”

You almost spit out the coffee from your mouth. “Han Dongmin!” you hiss. “Don’t remind me… it was so stupid.”

“Stupid?” Dongmin asks, tilting his head. The signature cocky smirk is back on his face. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah…” you sigh, “I mean, I could’ve resolved the matter by myself, you know–”

“But you know that I’m the best option,” Dongmin cuts you off, smug. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t think it’s stupid, though,” he continues, his expression softer. More… raw. “To be honest, I think I was ecstatic that you walked up to me that day.”

“Why?” you ask croakily. 

“‘Cause I’ve always liked you, Y/N. I always have. I just don’t understand where things went wrong—maybe it’s the way I thought teasing you would gain me your attention at first. It did. But then, you became used to my teasing and thought of me as a threat—maybe ‘cause I’m smart as hell, too—but yeah. I don’t know how to say it but, all of that hatred was… pretend.”

You blink at him, too shocked to process his words. You try to reply, but mere stuttering comes out, and your face turns bright red. 

Dongmin notices this, of course, and he turns on his shameless, impudent grin. “Besides, you said you’re going to grant me any wish that I have, right?”

Oh. 

You inhale sharply. How could you forget? You immediately bring out your phone, checking the balance in your bank account. It’s quite a luxury, due to you working a few part time jobs during your break and whenever you can—but you certainly don’t think it’s fit for whatever grand wish Dongmin is about to demand from you. 

“Fine,” you huff, “only because it’s part of our… old contract.”

“Old contract, huh?” Dongmin wheezes, already laughing hard. You frown, fighting back a smile. 

“Why are you always laughing whenever I speak, dumbass?”

“Hey,” Dongmin pauses his laughter, flicking your forehead gently. It doesn’t even hurt, but you gasp dramatically, and he laughs it off. “It’s babe for you, sweet girl. And, I’m not laughing at you. I’m just admiring how cute and funny you are.”

Babe, huh?

You snort, hiding a smile. “Fine.”

“Anyway, speaking of the old contract,” Dongmin grins, “what’s the new one, then?”

“You haven’t even told me what sort of dumb, overpriced thing you want for your wish,” you say, lips set in a grim line. “And now you want another one?”

“My wish, huh?”

The unreadable look on his face makes you brace yourself and your wallet.

“Then, my darling, this is my wish.”

Dongmin leans forward, brushing his lips against yours. It’s subtle, short and sweet, but significant enough for you to realise it all—the reality of your feelings and his. He lingers for a while before sitting back in his chair. 

“So,” he says coolly, ignoring the plain blush streaked across his face. “Can you grant me the wish? To kiss you anytime, and anywhere I want?”

“Basically, physical affection can be done anytime?” you say, quoting what this man in front of you said months ago, when both of you first agreed on the fake-dating situation. The whole absurd set-up that brought the two of you to where you are, today. 

Dongmin laughs, clearly impressed. “Yeah,” he nods. 

You give him a warm smile, glad that you’re finally able to follow your heart’s desires, and to not put up a wall of defense around him anymore. 

“Wish granted.”

― © htaesan, 2025.

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