#hell bent is still untouched

[one-hell-of-otaku-is-here]

do you sometimes have an urge to just scroll through fanart and other fandom content even though you still havent finished reading the book ( or original material) so you get spoiled anyway or is it just me?

[bootycallin]

B(W)ETTER THAN ME !?

꩜ .ᐟ basically: vi hears from you that it's practically impossible for you to cum without having your clit played with, and guys never seem to find it to begin with. she takes that as a challenge.

cw: female reader with female anatomy. close friend vi. you can read this as modern au if you want, idfk. strap usage. doggy and then into another position idk the name of. manhandling. mentions of edging. petnames (doll, baby, etc.). overstimulation? squirting. very self indulgent if you couldn't tell. no plot just pôrn.

a/n; shoutout to my girls who are literally impossible to please without playing w they clit, we fightin for our lives over here. don’t expect a lot of pretty looking posts like this, i got excited. again, if any stuffs missing, pls tell me!! hope u like it…

NSFW UTC

"oh, really, doll?" it was an innocent conversation at first, you swore it was. you really don't know how it wound up with you bent over, face down ass up in your bed. your dearest friend, vi, right behind you. pounding into you. "it's frustrating," you said. "i can never cum from somebody just fucking me. no guy even knows that the clit exists either." you had been around vi enough to confide in her, even with your most intimate stories and complaints. what you didn't know is that by saying that, you inadvertantly challenged her.

"fuck, vi, wait--" you gasp, hand clumsily reaching behind you, feeling up her hipbone to her hard abs, glistened with sweat. "break. break. break." she had been plowing into you for what felt like hours now. realistically, it might only be a few minutes, but it's far longer than any other dude you had a fling with. for a second you wonder what the fuck she's eating to have this sort of stamina, because it sure as hell isn't human. "hurts?" she asked you, tone way too kind and sweet for the position she had you in. "no," you pant. "just... just gimme a sec--" it didn't hurt. quite the opposite-- it felt amazing. like nirvana except maybe ten times filthier. she was pounding you to cloud nine and back and gods, it felt good, but you still hadn't cum. right, she didn't play with your clit once. because she has to prove a point! she doesn't care how long shes gonna spend plowing into you with this goddamn strap, she wants to give you the best orgasm of your life, clit untouched. right now, for somebody that had never done this-- it was torture. a constant build-up, her tip repeatedly kissing the deepest places inside you until you felt like she was in your guts, rubbing against your slick walls, filling you up so good. it was too much, but not enough at the same time.

you didn't know, but she was being tortured too. she silently vowed to herself the moment she manhandled you onto your bed that she would not cum until you did. so, she's just sorta been edging herself for the past, like, seven minutes. may the higher lords of sex bless doggy, because were you to see her face right now, her ego would be destroyed. sweaty, red, nearly teary-eyed.

"want me to sto-"

"no," you answer just a tad too quickly. she cracks an amused huff at that, hands trailing up and down the curve of your ass, squeezing the plump flesh.

"fuck- just- gh!-"

you didn't have to finish the goddamn sentence, because when you were about to, vi has your wrists in her hands, pulling back and slamming forward into you with a guttural growl. it’s harsher, it’s meaner, and it feels so goddamn good.

you don't even realize what's happening until your back presses against her chest. she pulled you up against her, hands still wrapped tightly together as she rut into you. with the closer proximity, her face buried into the crook of your neck. you could hear her panting, groaning, growling with every smack of her hips against yours. oh, and she could hear every little cry that came from you when she rut into that little spot you always found hard to reach.

oh, vi. shit, fuck, fuck me, yes. oh, she's gonna be dreaming about you for a while after this.

"viii!--" you whine, throwing your head back. there it was again, that heat bubbling in your stomach like a boiling pot, ready to boil over. it was stronger. far stronger. your head was fuzzy with the feeling.

"shit, vi-- fuck, fuck, fuck, i think i-"

"close, doll?" she growled. she just barely gives you the time to respond, shuffling a bit so she could angle her hips up, and oh-

"vi!" found it. head first (literally) ramming into that gooey, sensitive and swollen bundle of nerves, the good old g. bet none of those guys were able to find it, huh, baby?

she growls into your shoulder when she feels your stubby little nails scratch at her lower abdomen, where she held your wrists back tight. you were close, she was close, she could feel it. perfect.

"vi, wait, shiiit!--" you cry out, but she's not stopping. it's too much to process, unlike anything you've ever felt before. you can feel the pressure building exponentially, your abused little cunt spasming around her cock, clenching so tight she nearly finds it hard to move if it weren't for the drippy slick running down your folds. it's strange, and for a second you're worried with the pressure building in your bladder, only to send shocks up to your clit.

"fuck, shit, it's weird, vi--" your head lolls back against her shoulder, jaw hanging open as you let out wanton cries and babbles.

"it's 'right, baby. jus' let go, come on..." she doesn't know if shes talking to you or herself. but she knows it works--

you finally cum with a dragged out whine of her name (that almost sounded like a scream, to be fair. she's surprised your throat isn't hoarse). you swear you black out for a second, vision going white as you feel like you explode into pleasured little pieces. and--

oh. oh.

the splashing of that milky, yet watery liquid, gushing all over her cock. damn, that's fucking hot. you should see yourself from her point of view. not only does she make you cum, she makes you squirt. vi takes that as enough victory to rut into you until she reaches her own orgasm-- which, to be fair, doesn't take too long since she's been on the edge of cumming for the past few minutes. she buries her face into your shoulder, eyes screwed shut. it still steals a few more whimpers and whines from you--and from her too, but she manages to hide them by biting your shoulder with a grunt.

too weak by both of your highs to keep upright, she ends up sitting back down onto the mattress, letting go of your arms only to wrap her own around your waist, cinching you two closer from behind. her strap has long since slipped out of you, leaving you dripping and empty, but ultimately satisfied.

"enjoy yourself?" you need a few minutes to come to and fro, blinking a few times before you see where vi is looking and look towards the direction, only to see the darkened, wet spot of your own making on you sheets. fuck.

"oh shit, that's--" you sound embarrassed, and she's quick to cut you off.

"it's fine, baby. just glad you enjoyed yourself." she chuckled. gods, she's so sweet when she wants to be. she runs her hands over your sides, kissing your nape.

"but you owe it to me, was that not the best orgasm of your life?" she whispers into your ear, her hand trailing down and down and down, until her ring and middle finger press against your twitchy clit, earning a sharp gasp from you.

"imagine what i could do playing with this pretty thing, though?"

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

[soulofapatrick]

Always Her - Garrick Tavis x female reader 

Summary: You're sick of Garrick always choosing Violet over you because Xaden says so

Warnings: angst

Words: 2K

Notes: I hope this does the request sent justice and sorry for ant typos this hasn't been proof read

Y/N’s POV

The hallways are eerily quiet as I make my way back toward the Riders’ dorms, the cold stone walls amplifying the echo of my footsteps. Shadows pool in the corners, stretching long and heavy under the faint glow of mage lights. My stomach twists as I think of the untouched meal sitting on the table in my room. It’s gone cold by now, the once-perfect plans I had for Garrick and me unraveling yet again.

He didn’t show up.

Again.

I tell myself not to be surprised. I knew this would happen. Garrick has been distant for weeks now, and every time I try to reach him, to pull him back into us, he slips further away. Still, it doesn’t stop the simmering frustration from clawing up my spine as I round the corner.

That’s when I see him.

He’s sitting on the stone floor outside Violet’s door, his broad shoulders leaning against the wall. His arms rest casually on his bent knees, but I know better. His head is tilted back just enough to suggest he’s relaxed, but the tension radiating off him tells another story. He’s on high alert even now. Watching. Guarding. Protecting.

Always her.

My steps falter, anger sparking like a match struck too close to dry kindling. I pause for a moment, staring at him in disbelief, before the sharp echo of my footsteps announces my approach. His head snaps toward me, his dark eyes narrowing at the sound. At first, his expression is unreadable, that cool, professional mask he wears so well. But the second he catches sight of my face—stormy, unyielding—his shoulders tighten.

He knows.

He knows he’s in trouble.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” My voice is sharper than I intend as I stop in front of him, my arms crossing over my chest.

His brow furrows, confusion flickering across his face. “Forgot what?”

The audacity.

“Are you serious, Garrick?” I snap, my voice rising. “The meal we planned! Weeks ago. You swore—swore—you’d make time for us, but here you are. Again. Camped outside Violet’s room like some guard dog.”

His jaw tightens as he pushes to his feet, the movement slow and deliberate. He towers over me, his height imposing in the dim corridor, but I don’t back down.

“I’m following orders,” he says evenly, though the edge in his voice betrays his irritation. “Xaden asked me to—”

“I don’t care what Xaden asked you to do!” I cut him off, my voice breaking with frustration. The words spill out faster than I can stop them, raw and unfiltered. “You’re so focused on her that you don’t even see what you’re doing to me! To us!”

“This isn’t about you,” he says firmly, his hands flexing at his sides like he’s trying to rein himself in.

I laugh, bitter and sharp, the sound echoing between us like a slap. “Isn’t it? Because it sure as hell feels like it’s about me when I’m constantly being pushed aside. Do you even realise how much you’ve been ignoring me? Or is Violet’s safety just more important than the promises you made to me?”

His eyes darken, frustration flashing like lightning across his face. “This is bigger than you and me,” he says, his voice rising slightly. “Violet’s not safe. Not after what happened to Liam. She needs someone looking out for her.”

“And that someone has to be you?” I step closer, my voice trembling with barely-contained anger. “Every second of every day? She’s not a helpless child, Garrick. She doesn’t need you to hold her hand and tuck her in at night!”

“You don’t understand,” he growls, his composure slipping.

“No, I do understand,” I snap, my fists clenching at my sides. “You think it’s your duty to carry everyone else’s burdens, to play the hero, and you don’t care who you hurt in the process. But guess what? I’m done being an afterthought. I’m done being the one left behind while you break every promise you’ve made to me.”

The air between us feels like it might shatter under the weight of my words. His mouth opens as if he wants to say something, but no sound comes out. For a moment, the only thing I can hear is my own ragged breathing.

I shake my head, my chest aching from the effort of holding back tears. “Forget it,” I whisper, the words hollow and final. Turning on my heel, I force my legs to move before he can stop me.

“Y/N,” Garrick calls after me, his voice rough and pleading.

I falter for the briefest of moments, but I don’t stop. Not this time.

Let him sit with the emptiness I’ve felt for weeks. Let him wonder what it means to be left behind.

By the time I reach my room, my vision blurs with tears. The weight in my chest feels unbearable, pressing down on me until I can barely breathe. I slam the door behind me, the sound echoing in the hollow silence, and collapse onto the floor. My hands shake as they press against my face, desperate to contain the flood of sobs I’ve been holding back for far too long. But the dam breaks anyway.

The tears come in heavy, wracking waves, each one a testament to the hurt and frustration that’s been building inside me. I clutch my knees to my chest, feeling as though the walls are closing in.

I don’t know how long I sit there, trembling and broken, before there’s a hesitant knock at the door. The sound barely registers through the storm of my emotions. I don’t answer. I can’t.

The knock comes again, softer this time, but I remain frozen. A moment later, the door creaks open. My heart stutters, but I keep my face buried in my hands. I don’t need to look to know who it is—I can feel his presence like a pulse in the air.

“Y/N.” Garrick’s voice is low and raw, his tone steeped in regret. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t respond. The effort to speak feels insurmountable. Instead, I stay hunched over, my shoulders shaking with the force of my grief.

He steps inside, his movements careful, almost hesitant. The door clicks shut behind him, sealing us in the same space, though the chasm between us feels immeasurable.

Garrick kneels in front of me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. His hands hover in the air, uncertain. “I screwed up,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I did.”

His words hit a nerve, but I keep my head down, my tears falling freely.

“I’ve been so focused on protecting Violet,” he continues, each word weighted with guilt. “So caught up in trying to do the right thing for everyone else, that I stopped seeing what it was costing me. What it was costing us. And I hate that I’ve made you feel this way.”

His words are a balm and a fresh wound all at once. They dig deep, unearthing the raw ache inside me. “Do you even care, Garrick?” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Or am I just… another thing on your list of priorities?”

He inhales sharply, his hands finally settling gently on mine. His touch is warm, grounding, but it’s not enough to ease the ache in my chest.

“I care,” he says firmly, his voice steady despite the crack I can hear beneath it. “More than anything. You’re not just a priority—you’re everything to me. And I hate that I’ve made you feel otherwise.”

I lift my head then, my tear-streaked face meeting his. His storm-gray eyes are wide, almost frantic, as though he’s afraid I might disappear right in front of him.

“You can’t just say that, Garrick,” I choke out, my throat raw. “You have to prove it. I can’t keep doing this if I’m always going to come second.”

“I will prove it,” he says, his gaze unwavering. His fingers tighten around mine, a silent plea. “I’ll make this right. I don’t know how yet, but I will. I can’t lose you, Y/N. Not over this.”

The desperation in his voice gives me pause. I search his face, trying to decipher the truth in his words. His usual stoic mask is gone, replaced by an unguarded vulnerability that cuts through my defences.

“Okay,” I whisper after what feels like an eternity. “But this is your last chance, Garrick. Don’t make me regret it.”

Relief floods his expression, and before I can say anything else, he pulls me into his arms. His embrace is fierce, almost crushing, like he’s afraid I’ll slip through his fingers. I let him hold me, my cheek pressed against his chest, listening to the unsteady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I don’t want you to think I don’t care,” he murmurs into my hair, his voice quieter now, almost broken. “Because I do, Y/N. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

I pull back just enough to meet his gaze again, my hands still clutching the front of his shirt. His eyes are searching mine, filled with something raw and desperate, something that looks like it’s tearing him apart.

“Then why do you make it so damn hard to believe that?” I ask, my voice soft but no less cutting.

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks away, as if he can’t bear the weight of my stare. “Because I don’t know how to balance it all,” he admits, his voice heavy with self-loathing. “I’ve always been the one who follows orders, who puts the mission first. And now… now I’m trying to figure out how to be the guy who puts you first, too. But I’m screwing it up.”

“You are,” I say bluntly, though there’s no venom in my voice anymore. “And it’s not just about Violet or Xaden. It’s about you deciding that what I need isn’t as important as what everyone else needs. That’s what hurts the most, Garrick. Feeling like I’m not worth the effort.”

His throat works as he swallows hard, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “You’re right,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You deserve better than that. You deserve better than me. But if you’ll let me, I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you’re the most important thing in my world.”

The sincerity in his voice sends a shiver down my spine. My walls begin to crumble, brick by fragile brick, as I let myself hope.

“Words are easy, Garrick,” I say, my voice trembling. “Actions are harder. And I need to see that you mean it. I need more than promises right now.”

“I know,” he says, his hands cupping my face with a tenderness that steals my breath. “I’ll show you. I swear I’ll show you.”

Before I can respond, he leans in, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that is anything but gentle. It’s desperate and raw, filled with all the things he’s been unable to say. For a moment, I freeze, overwhelmed by the intensity of it. But then I melt into him, my hands fisting his shirt as I pour everything I’m feeling—hurt, love, anger, and hope—into that one moment.

When we finally break apart, we’re both gasping for air, our foreheads resting together.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes.

My heart stutters, and for a moment, I can’t speak. But then I let out a shaky breath, a small, tentative smile tugging at my lips. “I love you too, Garrick,” I whisper. “But you need to stop breaking my heart.”

“I will,” he promises, his lips brushing softly against my forehead. “I’ll prove it to you. Every day. For as long as you’ll let me.”

For the first time in a long time, I feel something like hope flicker to life in my chest. It’s fragile, uncertain, but it’s there.

And for now, that’s enough.

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

[byuntrash101]

sharing is caring?

hongjoong x f!reader x mingi smut | mdni 5.2k of course hongjoong cares about his friends but when mingi gets too close to his girl it’s time to remind him sharing is not always caring. nsfw tags under the cut

dom possessive bf!joong, sub simp!mingi, exhibitionism, voyeurism, joong has a point to prove, fingering (f), oral (f), squirting, multiple orgasms (f), a dash of spit kink, unprotected sex (don't), nipple play, praising (f), hair pulling (m), slight degradation (mingi is called desperate and a dog), masturbation (m), dry humping, some mxm but not really (just trust me), leg humping, slight edging, cumming untouched, cum play, cum eating

a/n: idk what happened. i was horny okay? (what's new ?lol) and im not even sorry for the absolute filth that follows.

ateez masterlist | navigation

Hongjoong, Mingi and yourself have been in the studio for hours now, it was well past into the night but neither of you were complaining. You were way too focussed on producing this song to even feel the effect of fatigue tensing the muscles of your neck and laying heavy on your eyes. 

You were all too focussed. Well, you were definitely the one that was the most focused right now. Because as you bent over the mixing board to point out on the screen the section that seemed to require more work, you accidentally found yourself crowding Mingi’s personal space. Of course, you made nothing of it. Mingi was your friend, you’ve been physically close to him dozens of times, it didn’t mean anything in particular. But Mingi has had different feelings about you for a while. Maybe even ever since you started dating Hongjoong and right now the only thing he could see was that the loose fitted tank top you were wearing hung slightly around your chest which resulted in your breasts being on display, in close proximity and right at his eye level. 

Subconsciously his eyes were attracted to the exposed skin and he had to bite his bottom lip to repress a small gasp of surprise. He innocently pulled back on the beanie that was falling low on his forehead and his eyes just to be able to look a little better. He didn’t even need to turn his head, only look slightly to the side and he could see everything: the black lace bra you were wearing, the crease between your breasts. He could smell your delicate perfume. Hell, you were so close he could even feel your body warmth radiating on his face. Or maybe the warmth he felt was actually from his own boiling blood rushing to his face… and to his groin. 

Hongjoong that was slightly leaning on his office chair saw the whole scene unfold as he peered at the both of you through his large silver framed glasses. Inexplicable anger started to seep into his blood when he saw his friend eyeing you in that way. Hongjoong knew you were beautiful, there was no possible way not to look at you. But he still didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. 

“Don’t you think so?” you added when neither of the men you were directly addressing responded. 

Mingi only shifted uncomfortably when you stood back straight, oddly averting your eyes and Hongjoong only nodded absentmindedly. You figured they were just too tired to continue and as you were opening your mouth to suggest you should go to sleep and continue later, Hongjoong spoke up.

“Why don’t you go in the recording booth to sample some of the voice lines and we can all decide which one sounds better?” He suggested and you lit up.

“Great idea” you said, grabbing the music sheets and disappearing behind the door of the soundproof recording booth to reappear through the small window. You slipped on the headset, adjusted the mic stand and spread out the music sheets while Mingi and Hongjoong looked at you silently. You gave two thumbs up when you were ready. 

“Okay great” Your boyfriend’s voice resonated in the headset. “Let’s start with the first one” you nodded and soon after heard the music cue.

Both of the men in the small space right next door were strangely quiet. Mingi couldn’t stop shifting on his chair as he tried to find a position that would conceal his hard on. Trying to concentrate on your voice coming through the speakers and not the way you smelled or the slutty lingerie your were wearing under such unsuspecting clothes or your beautiful and perfect fucking tits shoved right into his face, both his hands laying over them and palming them as he buried his face between. Fuck he was getting harder.

“What do you think?” Hongjoong asked him as you were still singing through the speakers. 

Right there Mingi realized he hadn’t been paying any attention to what was going on around him. His mind was poisoned by the images he was so vividly picturing: you slipping off the flimsy tank top and taking his hands to lay over the bra, asking him to play with your tits, begging him to take off the lace that was keeping you from feeling his hands on your nude skin. Or you spread out onto the mixing table with Mingi’s face buried between your thighs, getting to finally taste you and hear you as he made you feel good, feeling your pussy throb under his tongue smearing your wetness all over his face. That was what Mingi was paying attention to, not the song. Definitely not the song.

But he needed to find something to say before he looked suspicious so he went another route. A route that wasn’t directly about the song but still close enough to pass.

“I think she’s a good addition to the team. Look at how far we’ve come with this song already? Of course we still have to run it by Eden but I mean it’s pretty much done.” 

“No” Hongjoong started, already his tone was a lot less neutral, tipping towards the cold end of the spectrum. And Mingi bit his lip thinking his friend was going to ask him to be more specific about the voice samples he wasn’t listening to but how wrong he was...

“I mean physically what do you think?” Hongjoong’s tone was now as glacial as could be as he did his best to dissimulate the burning rage that was hiding behind the biting cold tone.

The words didn’t make any sense in Mingi’s mind. So he turned to his friend trying to find on his face a hint that could help him make the sentence he just heard make sense. But he only found Hongjoong looking right at him, dead serious, an unfamiliar darkness about his aura.

“What?” he asked, dumbfounded and utterly confused.

“You wanna fuck my girlfriend?"

This time around Mingi heard correctly, that he was sure of. But he was still just as confused about the whole ordeal. “What the fuck are you on ab-”

“I saw you practically drooling all over her tits earlier” Hongjoong interrupted him, piercing eyes peering at his friend over his rectangular glasses. Now Mingi was shifting in his seat again. 

Fuck… he saw that.

Mingi started to stammer to whip up a reasonable excuse but his pressured mind couldn’t come up with anything worthwhile. Of course! Because there was no reasonable excuse. Truth was he gave in to his primal instinct and couldn’t look away. 

But very fortunately for him that’s when you emerged from the recording booth.

“So what are we thinking? Clearly my delivery wasn’t the best for the second option but cut me some slack and just imagine Jongho, okay?” you said, your exhaustion seeping through your words in the form of exasperation, completely oblivious of the heavy air that was stretching between the two friends.

Mingi jumped on the occasion to escape the humid tension that was raising the hairs on his nape. 

“I need to make a call” he abruptly said as he stood up and hurriedly left the studio. You sighed slowly coming to term with the idea that sadly, you won’t be able to finish the song tonight.

“What’s his deal?” 

***

Mingi didn’t need long. He just needed a couple of minutes to gather his thoughts, that's all. He thought as he rushed to the bathroom and locked the door right behind him, even though you three were the only ones left here.

“What the fuck were you thinking” he whispered to his reflexion pointing an accusing finger at the mirror above the sink. "Of course he noticed!" He slipped his white beanie off and settled it on the edge of the sink. He splashed his face a couple times with water in an attempt to clear his mind. But even the cold water wasn't enough to soothe the aching hard on that was currently pressing tight onto the cold ceramic of the bathroom sink. 

Mingi looked at himself for a second, pondering.

"Fuck it!" He concluded before shoving his hand down his loose-fitting sweats and pulling his rock hard cock out.

"I just need to cum real quick" he said to himself in an almost apologetic tone. Almost bargaining with himself.

He spat in his open palm and dragged the warm liquid to his cockhead with a lowly sigh of relief that made his Adam's apple vibrate in his throat.

"God- fuck-" he breathed out. Mingi didn't even need to focus on anything in particular to get himself there. He just closed his eyes and images of you came running forth.

He saw himself ripping your tank top and bra off in one movement freeing your beautiful tits and groping them right in front of his friend. He saw you sinking to your knees pulling his sweatpants down and taking him into your mouth. Your lips perfectly stretching around his large cock. 

He spat in his hand again picturing the wetness and tightness of your throat instead of his balled fist. Loud and lewd noises erupted from the act, squelching wet sounds coupled with heavy sighs and strangled moans he struggled to keep behind his teeth.

"F-fuckkk" he whined a little more high pitched than anticipated. He picked up the pace, pressing his thumb on his tip to squeeze the precum out as he felt himself twitch.

If Hongjoong only knew how right he was. Mingi did want to fuck his girlfriend. He wanted to fuck you so bad.  How he would have loved to stuff you full of his cock right then and there. Bending you over the armchair and snaking his big hand into your hair making you look up at your boyfriend while he just watched helplessly as Mingi claimed you, pounding into you mercilessly, splitting you open on his cock, your pretty face contorted into blissful agony because of him. For him. Only him.

He let your name roll off his hot tongue a hundred times in muffled and secret pants and moans until the pleasure was unbearable, uncontainable and spilled over the edge of Mingi’s sinful mind. And he was spraying his warm cum all over his fist and the bathroom sink in a last broken complaint of your name, his other hand tightly gripping the edge of the sink as if his large and ample thighs were going to give out.

He looked at his mess in the sink and took a couple of deep breaths. That should be enough to get his mind out of the gutter… Right?

***

“What’s his deal?” you said nodding to the door. Your boyfriend only shrugged nonchalantly while you settled the music sheets on the mixing board, shoulders flat and defeated. 

“You look tired baby” Hongjoong added with a warm smile ignoring your question about Mingi. He didn't want to talk about him right now. “Cm’here” he said patting his lap invitingly. You accepted the offer and settled yourself comfortably in Hongjoong’s lap, letting your back rest against his chest. He took advantage of the position to sneak in kisses to the base of your nape and nuzzling his nose in your neck. And before you knew it his hands had snaked around your waist and lightly stroked your inner thighs. The light touches lifted goosebumps on your bare skin, thanks to the skirt you chose to wear today.

Soon enough you had completely fallen into your boyfriend’s embrace. You were so relaxed now that you forgot about everything else and you didn’t even realize how his legs came over yours to spread them nice and wide. But you did feel when his sneaky hands slipped under your skirt and stroked the thin fabric of your black lace underwear. You jolted but Hongjoong’s legs around yours kept you in position.

“Joongie” you started to whine when he applied more pressure to your sensitive area.

“Shhh” he soothed you with more kisses. “Let me help you unwind” he said softly in your ear.

“But what if Mingi comes back?”

Hongjoong didn’t answer that, only smirking against your nape and sliding your underwear to the side. That’s enough of an answer for you, and even more so when Hongjoong dipped his finger to your entrance while his other hand sneaked under your loose tank top and under your bra to cup your breast. You could only let a moan slither through your teeth when Hongjoong gathered your wetness in slow circles over your opening to drag it back to your clit.

“I barely even touched you and you’re already this wet?” Hongjoong noticed as you complained with another little whine. “My naughty girl~”he sang. “I bet that’s exactly what you were waiting for, huh? My hands all over your pretty little pussy.”

He started to draw circles on the erect nub inevitably making your little cunt create a big mess under your skirt. As he picked up the pace he started to pull a little harder at your nipple making you moan just a little louder than you anticipated, making you clap your hand over your traitorous mouth.

“Be careful baby. We want to be able to hear when Mingi comes back” you felt heat rush to your neck at the idea of getting caught in this position. That’s when Hongjoong pushed his index and middle finger past your entrance. You moaned again against your fingers, eyebrows digging a crease in your forehead as you tried to remain as silent as possible. Maybe you could muffle your voice but the same thing couldn’t be said about the squelching noises your boyfriend was dragging out of your sopping wet cunt. Long strings of arousal linking his fingers and your heat every time he pulled out to play with your painfully sensitive clit.

Your high was nearing and as the pleasure rose you slowly forgot about your whereabouts so when you heard footsteps coming your way from the hall you stiffened in your boyfriend’s lap. Instinctively trying to close your legs. But Hongjoong’s strong thighs kept you exactly like you were.

“J-Joongie…hmph…M-Min-gi” you struggled to say as Hongjoong kept on teasing your clit and nipple. 

Your eyes darted over to the door when you heard the recognizable clatter of the handle, your heartbeat started to raise and you struggled to close your legs.

“Stay put baby.” Hongjoong breathed against the shell of your ear. Which made you stop. “I want you stay exactly like this”

You can’t describe the overwhelming shame that took over you when you saw the door being pushed open and you were met with Mingi. 

It only took mere milliseconds for Mingi’s eyes to dart from your flushed face and half lidded eyes to the suspicious movements under your skirt and to Hongjoong’s smug little smile. 

Mingi’s cheeks instantly became scarlet red as he turned his head around to look away. But even if he couldn't see anymore he could still hear the sound of your cunt being stretched open by Hongjoong’s fingers as well as your soft muffled moans. And even though he just jacked off in the bathroom he still felt his pants becoming tighter once again.

“You can look” Hongjoong started. “I’ll allow it. So you can see she only belongs to me” 

Mingi barely wrapped his mind around the words but nonetheless he slowly looked in your direction again. Instantly he felt blood rush to his lower half again, reaching full hardness in a matter of seconds but how could he not? When you sounded and looked so divine and adorable at the same time. Even behind your hands clamped over half your face, muffling your sounds and wet eyes looking back at him occasionally fluttering close and open when he guessed Hongjoong was expertly teasing you. How could he not when he saw your skirt being lifted up and being let down at such a rapid pace accompanied with those wet and lewd sounds that were erupting from between your legs. The sinful acts only concealed by the damn piece of fabric.

It took Mingi everything he had to not just whip his cock out right then and there and stroke himself again. Instead his stupidly hard cock laid uselessly in his pants leaking precum in his underwear.

“I bet you want to see what’s going on under there, huh?” Hongjoong taunted, as Mingi stared obtusely between your thighs, with his mouth agape and his cock poking through his sweatpants.

Mingi already came this far and maybe lust was clouding his judgment and desire was getting the best of him but he nodded slowly peeling his eyes off the cursed skirt to look at his friend’s devious little smirk playing on his lips. 

“I’ll let you if you get on your knees and-”

In a split second Mingi found himself kneeling in front of the both of you, interrupting Hongjoong.

“You’re really that much of a simp for my girlfriend? Have some dignity, bro” Your boyfriend spat. But Mingi barely registered the insult he was entranced by the way your skirt was lifting and falling. He'll have time to mourn his lost dignity tomorrow. Tonight he did not intend on letting his chance slip away.

“Come closer” Hongjoong commanded and Mingi crawled to you until his face was way too close for comfort. At this close distance Mingi heard the sounds of your wet cunt being abused as clear as day as loud as bells. He even wished he could record them to play them forever but if he wants to relive this moment he will only be able to count on his memory, maybe that was why he was so attentive. He wanted to remember every detail. He took a deep breath inhaling your scent that was now floating to his nose. You smelled divine, the right amount of sweet and sinful. The perfect cocktail. Strong but oh so feminine. A fragrance that went straight to his head to burn his last two functioning brain cells. 

“Now promise after tonight you won’t ever look at my girl ever again” Mingi didn’t need to hear it twice. He immediately followed with the request.

“I promise I won’t look at y/n ever again” Mingi hurriedly said, almost choking on his saliva. Truth be told, in this instant he would have agreed to virtually anything, he would have eaten the off white beanie right then and there if he was asked to. He’ll think about the consequences tomorrow.

“Okay baby, lift up your skirt” Hongjoong said his tone changing radically, as stern as he was when addressing Mingi he was now soft and gentle with you.

“But Joongie” you whined right before a moan beat to the punch another complaint as your boyfriend slipped his fingers out of your heat to circle your clit once more.

“Come on baby, be a good girl and do as you’re told” he said before shoving his fingers back in earning another muffled moan. “Show your pretty little pussy to our guest.”

Slowly but surely your hands left your face to wrap your fingers around the hem of your skirt at both your sides. Mingi couldn't believe his eyes as he looked up at your flushed face looking right back into his eyes as you carefully lifted up your skirt. His eyes darted straight down to your core. His hard cock immediately jumped inside his sweatpants, his eyes grew twice as big and his mouth started to water. There was nothing that was more beautiful in the world he thought as he slipped the beanie off his head, setting it carelessly on the ground beside him.

The way your perfect little cunt accepted Hongjoong’s fingers, clamping around them every time he pulled them out to circle your clit a couple of times before pushing them back in again, your little cunt emjoying the attention and twitching under Mingi’s scrutinizing gaze. 

You felt the thrill of being watched as you looked at Mingi, eyeing you like a famished man. His hair disheveled and his cheeks pink. It made your core tingle with a brand new source of arousal and you wiggled your toes in lustful shame.

“Fuck” Mingi said under his breath making you moan a little louder as you watched him being entranced by you. 

The thrill rocketed you to your high and you started to squirm and clench around Hongjoong’s fingers. He knew exactly what it meant.

“P-please Joongie. Can I-” you panted as your fists tensed up around the hem of the skirt but never letting your hold falter making sure Mingi saw every part of you. Normally Hongjoong liked to tease you but this time he wanted to reward you for being such a good and obedient girl. And moreover he wanted to give his friend a good show of how only he could make you feel this good.

“Look carefully” he whispered, addressing his friend kneeling between your legs, eyes perfectly leveled with your pussy. “Cum baby” he said, his hot lips pressed to your ear. And you immediately let go. Letting your walls grip Hongjoong’s fingers urging them to reach further as you twitched uncontrollably, your cum flowing out of you in quick spurts. Soaking the carpeted floor. Mingi’s jaw dropped to the ground as he watched the precious nectar being wasted on the carpet. His throat suddenly feeling as dry and the saharan desert, licking his chapped lips instinctively at the fleeting and forbidden thought of connecting his lips to your core to have a taste of you.

Hongjoong accompanied you gently as you rode off your high, your back arched into his chest. Hongjoong pulled his fingers until only his first knuckle was still inside and spread his fingers apart, stretching you open beautifully for Mingi to look at how your walls fluttered around nothing, your orgasm prolonging as your chest rose and fell rapidly, your moans slowly dying off. 

“Look at how pretty she is just for me” Hongjoong added, spreading his fingers even wider, as you whined again but still holding the hem of the skirt up with purpose. This way Mingi could even see your cervix pulsing, he could almost hear it demanding cum. Demanding to be fucked full of cum and knocked up right then and there, holding Mingi as witness.

“Fuck” was the only thing Mingi could enunciate truth be told his brain was completely fried and he didn't have the wits to come up with anything more clever.

You couldn’t help but squirm again as Mingi leaned in to have a better view at your most private parts, his nose was now only a couple of inches away from your cunt and he couldn't help but to take a big whiff of you. Your essence absolutely bewitched him… he just couldn't help but to wonder how you tasted.

“You did so good baby” Hongjoong soothed immediately as he slipped his fingers out bringing them to his mouth. Mingi followed his friend's tongue wrap around his digits and lap up the precious liquid coating them as he instinctively swiped his tongue on his bottom lip, his hard and leaking cock slowly forming a pool of precum in his sweatpants.

“How do you think she tastes?” Hongjoong taunted his friend again. 

“Fucking delicious” Mingi sighed his dick twiching at the thought of your wetness coating his tongue. 

“Trust me whatever you're imagining. It’s better. ” Hongjoong said, holding his saliva and cum coated fingers to your lips which you welcome into your mouth. “How do you taste baby?” he asked, smirking at his friends looking with the most desperate of eyes at how you licked off his fingers clean.

“So good Joongie” you replied before he popped his fingers out of your mouth with a lewd sound.

Mingi watched as he swallowed thickly just as you did so, echoing the sound with his own mouth as if this way he would get a taste.

“Baby you’re so hot I got so fucking hard for you” Hongjoong whispered in your neck and pressed a couple of wet kisses to the shell of your ear and jerked his hips into you poking his cock on your ass. 

You didn’t need anything more to busy your hand and freeing Hongjoong’s cock from the uncomfortable restrains. 

“Sit on my cock baby” he urged, with all of that teasing he also got pretty worked up. 

When your boyfriend’s cock rubbed on your folds you jolted your hips in anticipation. Before aligning him with you and slowly sinking your hips on his. Mingi held his breath at how your pussy perfectly fitted around him, perfectly expanded to have him whole inside you until you bottomed out with a whiny and breathy moan. 

“Good girl” he said, wrapping both his hands under your thighs and thrusting up into you. The first couple of strokes were slow, mainly to warm you up to him but also to let Mingi have a good look at his cock splitting you open. 

“Joongie~~” you cried as you let Hongjoong take control. “Fuck it feels so good” you let your head rolls back onto his shoulder

“Yeah? You like that?” he said as he sped up. 

“Fuck yeah I love it. I love your cock” you declared.

 Mingi couldn't believe his eyes or his ears as a matter of fact. To hear you say such sinful things, hearing you make these unholy noises. Getting to see your cunt clench around his friend's dick. There was not a trace of doubt in Mingi’s mind. You were made just for his cock. Perfectly molded just for him. 

“Who’s cock do you love baby?” Hongjoong asked through gritted teeth, maintaining the deadly pace between pants and groans.

“Yours!! Your cock!! Kim Hongjoong’s cock!!!!” you replied hurriedly, almost instinctively. Your mind is only filled with thoughts of your boyfriend.

“Hear that?” Hongjoong asked, almost laughing as if his friend's misery entertained him. Mingi didn’t even need to look at him; he could hear the shit eating grin from a mile away. He was annoyed at that but he was even more annoyed at the way he couldn’t look away, he couldn’t help himself. 

“Fuckkk” Mingi moaned when your shin accidentally brushed over his clothed crotch. He felt pityfull for it but he couldn't help it. He wrapped both his hands around your calf and started to hump your leg. The last strand of sanity out the window as he mindlessly humped your leg like a dog. 

“You’re that desperate huh? That’s fucking laughable. you're really like a dog” Hongjoong laughed again. “Pathetic.” But Mingi didn’t even hear. He was too focussed on looking at your cunt swallowing Hongjoong’s dick and spit it back out covered in your glistening juices, said juices pooling on Hongjoong’s pants and staining them. 

Fucked you looked so fucking delicious, and your leg felt so good on his miserably hard cock he couldn’t stop the high pitched moans from leaving his lips and being set free in the small studio, joining yours and Hongjoong’s in a sinful trio. Undoubtedly the most beautiful and harmonious song ever produced within these four soundproof walls.

“Are you close baby?” Hongjoong asked between pants, his hips never faltering, fucking up into you and rearranging your guts.

“Yessss” you cried. “so– so c-close”

“You need a little help to get there?” 

Mingi’s ears perked up.

“Yes” you replied, shyly, getting an idea of what that implied.

“Mingi?” Hongjoong asked and instantly Mingi wrapped his mouth around your clit. You threw your head back, your moans morphing into literal screams of bliss. Mingi had been so starved of your taste ever since you started dating Hongjoong. He found himself wondering how you tasted like and he was not about to keep that an eternal mystery. He closed his lips around your nub sucking at it like a starved man. Twirling his tongue on the bud, even dipping deep down at your entrance, he didn’t mind one bit if he felt his tongue dragged along the cock of his friend as Hongjoong rammed into your tight cunt, all he wanted was to taste your juices that pooled the sides to drag them up to your clit.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum” you announced, your hand instinctively finding Mingi’s locks of hair and pulling at it. Making him groan against your folds, his hips snapping against your legs as he grunted louder and louder by the second.

“Cum, baby. Let him taste how much you love me” Hongjoong groaned as he felt you grip tighter around him, your hungry cunt urging him to deliver his warm load. Demanding to be filled to the brim.

“Fuck baby I’m cumming. Gonna fuck you full of my cum” Hongjoong warned. 

“Y-yes please fill me up!! pleasepleaseplease” you started to mumble, your words all jumbled up in a desperate and lust induced plea.

“Fucking take it” Hongjoong said giving a particularly sharp thrust into you, his tip going up to kiss your cervix and delivering his huge and warm load right into your womb as you also let go of the burning coil in your guts, your walls spasmming around Hongjoong’s cock and your clit throbbing under Mingi’s tongue. Once more your cum gushed out of you like a waterfall and soaking Mingi’s face. Hongjoong’s relentless thrusts pulling the white cum out until it perfectly mixed with yours, the bitter taste of his friend’s load coating his tongue and making Mingi dizzy on your and Hongjoong’s love

“Fuckkk” Mingi groaned as his hips became less precise, creaming himself with his cum, the warm seed spreading into his boxer and seeping through the sweatpants to form a visible dark gray stain. His dick uncontrollably twitching inside his pants as he moaned face flushed against your folds, his tongue continuously lapping up your cunt and around Hongjoong’s cock until both the men came to a stop. 

When Hongjoong pulled out, Mingi let go of your leg to plunge his face between your thighs, lapping up the cum dripping out of your fluttering and shapeless little hole and swallowing it in big gulps. Dragging his tongue to your over sensitive clit, not caring for your overstimulated body until you pulled him by the hair off your exhausted puffy cunt.

“Stop~~” you whined breathlessly which snapped Mingi out of his trance as he looked up at you with fucked out eyes, lips swollen and his face made shiny with both your releases.

“There!” Hongjoong said. “You got what you wanted. Now don't go and forget your promise.”

Mingi groaned… he almost did forget about that. This opportunity might never happen again but he will always have the memory of this night in the studio and your taste on his tongue he thought, licking his lips.

“Fine”

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[watchmegetobsessed]

ILLICIT THOUGHTS

A/N: i had to, i just couldn't not write something about this picture

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry has been nothing but professional when it came to you, but the short skirt you wore to the office seems to crumble his whole act finally.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

After basically murdering the treadmill with his deadly tempo, now it’s the punching bag that’s suffering from Harry’s frustration. He came down to his private gym with the pure intention of getting rid of the images that haunted him all day, but the more energy he is putting into his workout, the less he feels in control of his wandering thoughts. It’s completely insane.

He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you. He’s been successful at keeping his fantasies tame even though the day he interviewed you for his assistant position he definitely wanted more from you than just your professional help, but he pushed it all into the back of his head, but today changed it all.. He knows that he is your boss and you’re his assistant and that the fantasies he’s been fighting all day are definitely way over any boundaries between employer and employee.

But fuck, that short skirt you wore today is to blame for it all!

He has seen you in outfits that appeared a tad bit riskier than your usual office attires, but nothing got his imagination rolling like the short, tight little skirt that hugged your curves today. The moment you walked in with his morning coffee in your hands and his eyes snapped from his phone to your legs, the thoughts that evaded his mind were nothing but obscene. Filthy. 

He even had to hide his erection while you went through his schedule for the day, walking back and forth in front of his desk, he couldn’t tear his eyes off you and remembered absolutely nothing of what you said. He had to pretend to take a phone call to get you out of his office so he could calm himself down enough to start working, but the fantasies stayed with him all day.

He throws another punch into the bag and it’s so hard it almost flies off the hook. Harry groans as he catches the bag and stops it from swinging around. This is not working, it seems like with each punch he just pushes you more and more into his consciousness and he fears he won’t be able to get you out of there. How is it that he is still so hung up on the images his brain has created? They are not even real, but the feelings they are causing are for sure.

Your silky looking legs are still walking around in his mind as he starts punching the bag again. But then you’re suddenly sitting on top of his desk… your skirt is riding up, exposing your round ass… he can see you bent over the desk, begging for him to touch you… your naked pussy is now right in front of him, so wet, so sweet, he wants to devour you and–

His punch gets out of control and this time the bag actually falls off the hook.

“Damn it!” he groans, sweat dripping down his face as he gets rid of his gloves and just throws it at the bag, leaving the mess untouched. Walking out he heads to the bathroom and he is quick to fill up the tub with ice and water. This is his last chance. He needs to ice his fantasies before they get way out of hand and become a problem.

Harry strips out of his clothes and with a series of curse words he gets into the water, the ice immediately practically burning his skin. It’s like Hell.

He loves it, in a weird, masochist way.

Normally he would only spend about a minute in the tub, but this time he knows he needs more. Slowly, his body cools down, his muscles loosen up and finally… his mind starts to clear out.

It’s blank. No thoughts. No feelings. But the blissfulness doesn’t last long. 

His phone is beside the tub and it chimes from a text, the sound breaks the silence and he exhales sharply as he reaches for the phone, thinking it might be his mother or sister with something silly. But then as he looks at the screen, he loses his head again.

Your smiling face is shown next to a text in the notification.

“Don’t forget, you have an early meeting tomorrow morning with Jackson Morgan.”

It’s a simple, innocent, work-related thing, you’ve sent reminders like this before, but this time… it’s not that simple.

The fantasies flood back into his mind in a split second and not even the ice cold water can keep his body cool and calm. In a blink of an eye, he is hard again.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he jumps out of the water, his cock shamelessly hardening with every passing second and by the time he stands under the shower, he is almost bursting.

This time, he can’t stop himself from wrapping his hand around the base. With his eyes closed, one hand planted onto the tiled wall, the other one impatiently jerking himself, he gives in and lets even his dirtiest thoughts take over for once and for all, hoping he just needs to get you out of his system somehow.

You, on his desk, your back arching from the top as he pounds into you.

You, bent over his desk, your ass perched up into the air, begging to be spanked and fucked.

You, sitting on his lap while he sits in his leather chair, kissing up his neck, riding him like a good girl.

You… you… you…

He imagines you in every possible position he could ever think of. All of his filthiest, most outrageous thoughts finally burst out of the box he’s kept them in in the back of his mind all this time and he just simply can’t stop until he finally finds his release. 

Normally he likes to take his time not just when he’s with a woman but when he is pleasuring himself, he loves the teasing, the edging, he is not a fan of just a quick fuck, but this time he comes way faster and harder than ever. His face is all he can think of, he can almost hear you moan his name, his fingers pulling his hair and just like that… his cum is going down the drain along with the water, his half hard cock still in his hand as he tries to regulate his breathing.

But when the pleasure worms down, shame takes its place and it’s heavy and thick.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his chest heaving as he grabs a towel to dry himself off, hoping it would rub the shame off him as well.

How will he look you in the eyes in the morning? What if you wear something short again? He will never be able to look at you around his desk and not get hard instantly, thinking of the scenes that just gave him an insane orgasm. He shouldn’t have given in, because it only provided temporary relief, but now that he has let his fantasies loose, they will never let him rest.

He is fucked. In the worst way possible.

But little does he know, that in the meantime in a small apartment that you call your home across town, you’re lying in bed, the skirt you wore to the office today thrown into the hamper, your hands between your legs, eyes rolled back into your head as you’re pleasuring yourself. Thinking about none other than your boss, taking you on his desk, letting you ride him in his chair, or pounding into you from behind while you’re watching the city through the floor to ceiling windows of his office… His hand holding a handful of your hair as he pulls on it…Fucking you like no one did before, because you haven’t been able to think of anyone else since the day he interviewed you for his assistant position…

READ PART II. NOW: ILLICIT TEMPTATION

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[cs-fox]

FOXHOUND | GHOST X FEM!READER

um hi 👋👋

this has been rolling around in my subconscious for a while

enjoy x

reader's callsign is Fox (my oc's callsign - apologies)

______________________________________________________________

Freezing wind whipped through the open sides of the helicopter. You, and seven other mates who were all lined up to be candidates for the fifth TASKFORCE 141 operator, were all in five layers of clothing, trying to keep out the icy wind which bit at any square milimetre of exposed skin.

The forest below was blanketed in pale white snow, reflecting up at you as you gazed down over it. A clearing - or, more akin to a tiny break in the thickly wooded area - was visible from the sky.

Even if you could barely see him, you swore you could feel those chilly coffee-tinted irises staring up at you like a laser sight.

Ghost - the man people questioned about his mortality - was tasked with hunting down the eight soldiers packed into one Boeing AH-64E Apache. He was the best tracker the taskforce had - so the soldier who survived the longest would be admitted into the task-force.

The only way your mates could see any chance of survival was staying under the radar for as long as possible.

Which, luckily enough - was impossible for you.

From the second his calculating gaze fell on your form, he'd decided you were the one he'd push, you were the one he was hell-bent on forcing to submit or withdraw from Selection. The two months you'd endured under his command had been nicknamed the ninth circle of hell.

Your muscles burned every night before bed. Your legs felt two hundred pounds heavier than usual.

But you were going to show him that you weren't the runt of the litter.

All of that raced through your mind as you prepared to jump. Calm hands - a stark contrast to how you felt inside - clipped and secured a carabiner to your harness. Within seconds, you were fast-roping down onto the snow.

Your boots crunched as you landed, breaking through a thin layer of ice that had formed over the untouched snow.

Thirty seconds, your mind screamed, thirty seconds and then he's after you.

You were the first one detached from the helicopter, and thus the first one to get a head-start.

Silently, you thanked the man who'd recommended rubber-soled boots. His Scottish accent meant you weren't able to catch his name - did he seriously just say "Soap"? - but that advice had been a godsend, for your shoes barely made any noise against the white-blanketed ground.

You heard a frantic yelp from behind you - fuck - that sounded like Jasper - and your legs worked harder until you were sure you were completely isolated. Ghost had a wicked sense of humour. No doubt he'd track down all of the other soldiers with one hand tied behind his back, and then creep up on you in a way you didn't know was possible for a man of his size - skull-faced bastard.

Then -

CRUNCH.

'Fox.'

You didn't even have to look to know it was him.

In seconds, you were gone - sprinting away like a hare. Now you knew he had your scent, he wouldn't let it go, sometimes going to extreme measures to get you - which he would, by the way.

So why don't you have some fun?

He's gonna love this.

You had wrung a tiny woodland fox's neck after tracking one down, and after making sure deep boot-prints led to it's position, you slid your hunting knife from the underside of it's jaw to the soft, plush and fatty part of it's stomach. After coating your gloves in blood, you scrawled a scarlet message in the white snow, and vaulted up into the lower branches of a tree which had thicker than usual foliage.

Now, you wait.

Sure enough, just as the sun was starting to set, you saw a figure seemingly emerge from the shadows. The huge man moved so silently, as he approached the carcass laid down across a fallen log, with it's innards spilling out from it's chest.

You watched his head tilt, examining the message you'd left for him, before he went completely, eerily still.

Then, a muscle jumped in his neck, before a deep, rumbling growl crawled up from the depths of his throat, a sound which made your knees weak.

Ghost bent down, viciously sawed off the fox's tail with his own hunting blade, and tied it to his belt, before exiting in a way you could only describe as hot.

He was attractive when he was angry... God...

You gave yourself one last chance to proudly survey your handiwork, the maroon stain sinking into the snow.

You're hunting the wrong fox.

______________________________________________________________

PART 2 ???

this was super fun whattt

[pandapetals]

Snow Angels

logan howlett x fem!reader - snow, snow angels, fluff, cute, romantic, logan being soft, no y/n used, no reader description

Logan and you play in the snow.

prompt idea from @Silverskyeline from their logan promptober: #19-snow

The wind bit sharply at your face as you stepped outside, the cold air wrapping around you like a thick blanket. Snow was falling in thick, quiet flakes, dusting the mansion grounds in a soft white glow. You pulled your coat tighter around you, your breath visible in the freezing air. The world was utterly still—perfect, untouched.

Beside you, Logan grumbled under his breath, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his face half-hidden in the collar of his jacket. He had been less than enthusiastic about the idea of going outside, but you had insisted, practically dragging him out of the warmth of the mansion.

“Why the hell are we out here again?” he muttered, kicking a small pile of snow out of his way. “It’s freezing.”

You ignored his grumbling, a wide smile spreading across your face as you took in the snow-covered landscape. It was magical, like stepping into another world, the blanket of white transforming everything around you. Your footsteps crunched softly in the snow as you wandered a little farther ahead, looking back at Logan with bright eyes.

“This is amazing,” you said, almost breathless, turning in a slow circle to take it all in. “I’ve never seen snow before.”

Logan’s brow furrowed as he stopped, his arms still crossed, but his expression shifted at your words. “Never?”

You shook your head, your smile widening as you reached out to catch a snowflake on your glove. “Nope. Not like this. I’ve only ever seen pictures.”

Something flickered in Logan’s eyes, the usual gruffness in his stance softening just a little. His arms uncrossed, and for a moment, he just stood there watching you, the corners of his mouth tugging up slightly.

You bent down, scooping up a handful of snow, marveling at how soft and light it was. Logan took a slow step forward, his expression unreadable, but his eyes stayed on you, watching the way you gazed at the snow like it was the most incredible thing in the world.

“First time, huh?” he muttered, his voice quieter now, the earlier grumpiness fading.

You nodded, your eyes bright with excitement as you packed the snow into a loose ball. “Yeah, I’ve always wanted to play in it, but I never had the chance.”

Logan shook his head with a soft grunt, but there was a warmth in his gaze now. “Well, I guess we can’t waste your first snow then.”

Before you could reply, he bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, packing it tightly into a ball. You blinked, not realizing what he was doing until he tossed it at you with a quick, practiced flick of his wrist. The snowball hit your shoulder, cold and soft, exploding in a puff of powder.

You gasped, staring at him in mock outrage. “Did you just—?”

Logan’s smirk widened. “What? I’m just gettin’ you used to it.”

“Oh, you’re going to regret that, Logan,” you said with a laugh, bending down to gather another handful of snow quickly. You packed it into a ball and hurled it at him, catching him squarely in the chest.

Logan blinked, brushing the snow off with an amused grunt. “Alright, now you’ve done it.”

For the next few minutes, the two of you launched snowballs at each other, your laughter echoing in the quiet air, the earlier tension between you completely forgotten. Logan, despite his initial grumbling, seemed to relax, his sharp movements growing softer, more playful.

At one point, you ducked behind a snow-covered tree, peeking out just in time to see Logan chuck a snowball your way. You dodged it with a giggle, your heart racing as you darted out from behind the tree.

As you ran, your foot slipped on a patch of ice, and you tumbled backward, landing in the snow with a soft thud. The world spun for a moment, the cold seeping through your coat, but the laughter bubbling up in your chest kept you warm.

Logan was by your side in an instant, standing over you with a raised eyebrow, his expression hovering somewhere between concern and amusement. “You alright?”

You looked up at him, still laughing, and reached out to pull him down into the snow beside you. “I’m fine! Come on, make snow angels with me!”

Logan grunted but didn’t resist as you tugged him down. He landed beside you with a soft grunt, the snow crunching under his weight. He glanced over at you, his brow furrowed, but the usual grumpiness in his face had all but disappeared.

“You’re serious?” he asked, looking at you like you had suggested something outrageous.

You grinned, lying back in the snow and stretching your arms out wide. “Yeah, come on! You can’t experience snow without making a snow angel.”

Logan sighed, his breath fogging in the air, but he lay back beside you, his arms and legs stiff at first as he half-heartedly moved them through the snow. You giggled, turning your head to look at him.

“You’re terrible at this,” you teased, snowflakes clinging to your hair.

Logan shot you a sideways glance, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Can’t say I’ve had much practice.”

You laughed again, the sound light and free as you waved your arms through the snow, creating your own angel. “Well, now you have.”

For a moment, everything went quiet. The snow continued to fall gently around you, the world slowing down as you both lay in the cold, side by side. The earlier playfulness gave way to a peaceful stillness, the kind that settled in your chest and made you feel warm, despite the cold air biting at your cheeks.

Logan turned his head slightly, his eyes softening as he watched you. The tension and gruffness that usually clouded his expression were gone, replaced by something gentler.

“Guess I’m not so bad at this after all,” he muttered, his voice low and warm.

You smiled, turning your head to meet his gaze, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you. “No,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the gentle fall of snow. “You’re not bad at all.”

[glorious-spoon]

Sunday WIP

@daffi-990 and @devirnis tagged me recently to share one of my WIPs. this is from the car crash fic, which is inching along, lol.

They get through the checkpoint, and Eddie tucks away his wallet and phone while Chris puts his shoes back on, his curly head bent, his hands careful and deliberate. He still hasn't said anything, and a crowded airport probably isn't the place to have the fight Eddie suspects will happen if he pushes it. But they were supposed to get dinner. That was supposed to be the thing today. Dinner together, as a family. A normal evening. That's fucked to hell in a dozen different ways now, but Chris still has to eat. Eddie clears his throat. "You hungry?" Chris shrugs, reaching for his crutches and pulling himself to his feet. "I guess." "Burgers? Or there's that taco place over at the other end?" "Burgers are fine." So they get overpriced airport burgers at the little place across from their gate. Eddie eats his without tasting it, watching out of the corner of his eye as Chris inhales his food in record time and then starts eyeing Eddie's untouched fries. Eddie pushes his plate across the table, sees Chris hesitate and then finally pop a french fry in his mouth. It's probably kind of pathetic how much that feels like a victory right now.

no-pressure tagging @queerfables, @fraddit, @mellaithwen, @homerforsure, @alessandriana, and anyone else who wants to play!

[diejager]

If you might be taking requests at all, I was wondering if you'd be up for the idea of a fic with sleazy König or Ghost in an arranged marriage to the reader. Reader isn't quite happy with the marriage, but they are. It could be dark or cute, but I'd love to read a fic about an arranged marriage where reader is completely against it meanwhile their new husband is not. They've been hoping to marry reader for a while and now that they have, reader is all theirs in more ways than one. Scares off any men reader tries to date on the side and is hell bent on showing their lovely spouse that this marriage is perfect and that they truly do belong together.

Sleazy husband!König Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, sleazy!König, arranged marriage, age difference/gap, scent kink, crusty balls, hairy König, tell me if I missed any.

König was a family friend, someone you’d seen a few times in your life, but had heard of many, many times that he was a commodity in your life, a subject you became familiar with without actually knowing the man. You’d caught glimpses of the giant when you accompanied your father to the military base for a quick visit, how he towered over you as a child and even more so now that you were an adult in your early 20s. You thought him an acquaintance, a trusted friend of your father, but you’d never thought of him in any other light. You saw him as someone dedicated to his duty, prideful and hungry for power and money, unbeatable and strong with his broad shoulders and gigantic stature. You wouldn’t have anything to do with him in your life, seeing how he barely glanced your way when you crossed path, he dutifully ignored you every time as if you were a plague.

And yet, you found yourself married to him; an arranged marriage. The colonel who avoided you and never seemed to like you had a private marriage with only your immediate family and a few men and women from the Company assisting to watch him embrace and take you home. A home you had no recollection of and were a stranger to. It wasn’t his flat, or the studio apartment you went to with your father. This big house was new and old, a newly bought house in with fresh paint and untouched furniture, in an old Austrian land with a beautiful and lush forest surrounding it. You didn’t even know the man, but you were married to him so quickly - in a month’s worth - that you were still too shell shocked to do anything about it. 

How could your mother and father agree to it so easily? To marry you off to someone you didn’t know. Then you remembered how close your father and he was, life companions that had fought battles together, bled for one another and would die to save the other. That was the reason you were promised without your consent or knowledge until it was too late. 

“Mein Herzchen,” he rasps, peering down at you, cold blues glowing under the darkness of his hood, “Come.”

König - your husband - was a man of few words, but wouldn’t stop talking if he found the right topic to touch, speaking your ears off about it. There were a lot you didn’t know about him, a mystery you didn’t dare try figuring out, but were forced to. You learned he was a dirty and immoral man, to have you marry him despite him being almost twice your age. He could’ve been your uncle, a man who’s age was near your fathers. You learned that he liked jerking himself to the sight of your open pantie drawers, an unwashed and stolen lace pressed into his face, the soft gusset pressed into his mouth and nose as he huffed and growled. You were repulsed by it, finally understanding why some of your underwearswere slightly crusty. 

You learned that he never shaved after your first night, consummating your marriage in the bed you later slept on. You were shocked to find that his chest and arms were as hairy as the tuff around his cock, wild and unruly, a messy bush crawling up his abdomen and spiraling around his chest and covering his paler tint in auburn brown. You learned that he never showered after a sweaty and stinky work out, his musk stinking up the house wherever he went and that he loved pressing you against his naked and sticky chest, smothering you in his thick smell that nearly had you gagging and choking. You couldn’t find the words to describe a man like König, as big and burly as he was hairy and smelly, he was unmoving in his resolve and liked to touch you whenever he wanted to, whether you liked it or not, his word was law.

Your husband was a sleazy man and you couldn’t do anything about it, the golden bound diamond ring on your finger was more so a chain than a wonderful promise.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry

[ellaa-writes]

Welcome Home pt. 2

agnst, Johnny is kinda a simp. Follow up to this

Johnny woke in the morning, groggy and half erected. Rolling over, reaching out for you but only coming out empty. Your side of the bed cold and untouched. Then he remembered, laying in bed for a few minutes longer. Trying to come up with ways to make it up to you.

He slowly crept along the hallway, walking into the living space. The blanket on the couch was neatly folded. He could smell what he assumed was cooked bacon and the sound of something sizzling. As he entered the kitchen he saw you leaning over the counter, looking down at something on your phone. He cleared his throat, ready to start groveling. But stopped as you turned around to look at him. Your eyes were red and sunken in, it looked like you didn't sleep at all. The pot of coffee was almost empty.

"Bonnie-" he started but was cut off.

"Breakfast will be done soon." you turned back around, not wanting to look at him anymore.

He stood their debating if he should hug you but decided to give you space. Pouring himself a cup and taking a seat at the table. He watched you as you grabbed a plate, the tacky orange one he hated and started to fill it up. Grabbing a fork out of the drawer the one with the bent prong and setting his plate down in front of him.

He looked down at the plate and tilted his head, the bacon was off. He wasn't even sure if it was bacon, and the scrambled eggs had obviously egg shells in them. It made him smile and laugh, hell he deserved worse. He looked up to see you watching him, he grabbed a fork full of his egg shell scrambled eggs and shoveled them into his mouth. His teeth crunchy of the shells, grabbing a piece of the mystery bacon and tossing it into his mouth.

"Thank ye bonnie, delicious." he was sure the bacon was potato skin. You couldn't help yourself, finally cracking a smile and walking over to him.

You grabbed the plate from him and tossed it in the garbage can.

"Oi, Aye was eatin' 'at" Johnny said with a mouth full of food.

"Shut up." you spat back at him, he swallowed quickly. Getting up from the table and wrapping his arms around you.

"Oh, ma bonnie lass, Ah'm a daftie."

"Your an asshole." you sobbed into his neck. He just held you closer. Blubbering nonsense, promising you he'd never do it again.

"I'll leave so quick Johnny, don't you ever!" he wasn't sure if you were still mad or not. But he didn't care, you could scream all you want at him. He'd take it all, you could even kick him in the balls if it would make you feel better.

"Aye know." was all he said, holding you in his arms as you both cried.

[hellishjoel]

every rose has its thorns

1.6k / pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

← masterlist | notifications blog

summary: mike really likes your white panties with the pretty rose on the front.

warnings/information: soft/sub!mikey whilst still being on top (king), thumb sucking, pet names (angel!), mike using reader to unwind, panty play, size kink, coming wherever he likes ;) 

A/N: holy hell just realized this is my first non-pedro-universe-character piece! woohoo! I finally watched fnaf with a girlfriend of mine and with inspiration from a naughty twitter video, I wrote this! I have to give @cupofjoel a huge thank you, please read her entire mike schmidt masterlist, you will not regret it! I wrote this very ill with covid and on mikey brain rot (it's so bad I might have typed mark schmidt instead of mike x.x) so if there’s any errors, apologies are stated now. also thank you to @saradika-graphics for the fnaf banners!

It all started with a pair of panties. A simple brief-style pair, the material rounding around the curves of your ass and ducking pretty between your thighs. White cotton. A small rose embroidered on the front. Untouched, perfectly clean, pristine. Just like you. Unlike Mike. 

Mike was all dark boxer briefs, the kind that clutched onto his thick thighs and cupped his lower half for dear life. Or the plaid purple and black boxers he was wearing now accompanied by a bowl of cereal that he was eating after a late night at work, now an early morning. Often shirtless when he was in the privacy of his own room, you had the opportunity to admire his dark, curly chest hair that was speckled across his chest and thinned out across his torso before filling out again at the start of his happy trail.  

“Thanks for taking care of Abby,” he said with his mouth half full of Trix, “did she get on the bus alright?” 

You nod weakly, gently nudging the back of your hand against your tired eyes. 

“Yeah. But I think she misses you at night. I can never soothe her like you can when she has nightmares.” 

You watch as Mike sighs and tips the cereal bowl back, the sweet milk dribbling at the corners of his mouth and making small trails around his pretty pink lips. The ceramic bowl chimes as he sets it down on his bedside table, watching from the pillows as he crawls up the bed to join you. The early morning light peaks through his curtains and highlights his dark eyes amber. Your thumb traces his lower lip, and he truly can’t wait any longer. He needs you now.

He spent all last night fantasizing about you. Head down with his arms folded along the security desk, eyes previously on the security monitors now heavily closed as he listens to the sounds of nature. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about you, he had more important things to dream about. But you kept appearing, enticing him, wearing those pretty little panties that he can’t get enough of. The white pair with a rose on the front. The pair he comes home to most mornings once Abby has left for school. The pair you’re wearing now. 

Knowing how desperate you both are, you let him guide you how he pleases on the bed. After long night shifts, his routine is to come home and fuck you in the comfort of his dark grey sheets before he falls asleep with your body cuddled in beside his. He pulls you by the ankle to the edge of the bed, legs spread and bent as you nip at your lower lip with a certain eagerness unfolding in the base of your belly. 

Mike’s thumbs hook into his plaid boxers, pushing them down until they do the rest of the work, naturally falling and looping around his ankles. He’s already half hard just from looking at you, dreaming about you. He wouldn’t last long looking as wrecked as he was. Tight jaw and fixated eyes, drunk on need and just a little bit of control with his tornado of a life. 

“Mike,” you whisper, cupping his cheeks and letting him fold over your body as you feel his hips rest heavily between your thighs, “s’okay, want you to get off however you like.” You cradle his face and kiss the tip of his nose while his long eyelashes flutter in comfort. 

“I know, angel. I’m here with you.” His voice is like heaven, drenched in a sweet honey that you’ve found yourself addicted to. You sit up on your elbows as Mike helps navigate your shirt off, admiring the curve of your breasts and the embellishment of your collarbones. So perky and pretty. He praises them with his warm mouth and tongue that can’t help but swirl around your taut peaks. He grunts softly against your soft skin as his hips lightly rut into yours, making your head drift back and forth in his sheets with bliss. 

“Fuck, I just,” he mutters quietly against your goosebump-riddled skin, “I love these.” He whispers as he slowly moves to stand up straight once again, his cock resting over the material of your white panties. He’s entranced by the red petals of the rose, the two dark greens that make up the stem and its thorns. Your eyes trail down to his beady red tip, leaking precum that you desperately yearn to kitten lick. 

“Every rose has its thorns,” Mike whispers, a raspy edge to it from the lack of sleep he desperately craves. You run your hands down your delicate body, hooking your thumbs in at your hips to your underwear, but Mike stops your movements. 

“However I like?” He echoes your statement from earlier, to which you give him a soft nod.

Mike’s always been soft with you, gentle, caring. You think he gets it from being an older brother, the type that has to be the parent most times instead of an actual brother. But when he steps into the bedroom, and Abby is elsewhere, his mind can drift away into being whoever he likes, however he likes. Merciless, rough, desperate, needy, sweet. Everything that made him unwind was all shared with you. And for that, you felt thankful. You could be the key to his lock, the one that kept his head up from drowning with the overflowing responsibilities he always managed to juggle at the final second. You were the one person he could fall apart with, and everything would be completely fine. 

So when his hand started to stroke up and down his cock, making your mouth water for a certain desire, you were eager to help him unwind. Lose his mind in a little slice of heaven. The pad of his thumb slowly begins to stroke up and down your clothed center, eliciting a desperate whimper from your lips as he circles over your sensitive nub. He could see it through your underwear with how aroused you were growing. Your clit swelled for affection. 

A small wet spot starts to grow, an embarrassing little pool that shows through the white cotton of your panties, just at the sprout of the rose. You let out a shaky breath as Mike traces the looping pattern with his forefinger. He then peels the material gently away from your sticky center, laying his thirsty cock between your folds before he lets the underwear blanket you both. He barely fits inside the dainty material. His cock swells with volume and makes your panties stretch to accommodate. He was large. And all yours. 

You whimper in need, hoping for more but realizing you could get off just like this. 

His breaths are already labored as he starts to thrust, feeling his tip nudge your clit with every beat. You fist the sheets, letting him use you like a wet little toy. He’s not sure what to do with his hands at first. They start on keeping your legs spread at the underside of your thighs, before one settles on your hip and the other is cupping your cheek. Not long after, his thumb pushes past the plushness of your lips, forcing you to suckle and moan around the intrusion. 

Your eyes stay connected, a silent bond between you both. This is a safe space for you, come unraveled before me. 

The next time you look down, the pooling of liquid from his cock has stained your panties. And he has no remorse. Your lips part at the truly dirty sight. He’s leaked so much that your panties have become nearly translucent. You can see the pink of his tip with each thrust and the curve of his shaft.

You grow even wetter, feeling him slip up and down your arousal-filled heat, each thrust making you moan weakly. A shiver rolls up your spine, your walls squeezing around nothing as the coil inside of you twists tighter and tighter. 

Mike cages you with his body as he leans down and kisses you in a distracted way, one that leaves his lips parted against yours as he airs out a few soft grunts while his thrusts slowly falter. 

“Mike, please,” you moan softly against the stubble that lines his cheek, your nose gently gliding against it as you tilt your head back into his mattress, feeling yourself come undone to his thrusts. 

His forehead clustered with sweat sinks desperately into your neck, sponging kisses and moaning weakly as he rids himself of his latest dirty fantasies. He gasps and grunts against your throat as he finishes with hot spurts against the material of your panties, making your jaw drop as you feel the seething warm cum spill and dribble along your stomach and inner thighs. 

Your hearts race in sync, feeling the post-orgasmic high that you catch every morning these days. His cock is still buried in your panties, your hole untouched, and your clit singing with fresh sensitivity. You kiss his earlobe and smile against his skin. 

“You’ve been wanting to do that for a while?” You ask curiously, coiling a dark curl around your finger before it springs loose. 

“Shit,” he mutters weakly, hazy eyes meeting yours as you sweetly kiss his parted lips once more. “M’sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” 

You simply shake your head and wipe the small bead of sweat that neared his eyebrow. “Don’t have to apologize for anything. You already know that.” 

He sighs weakly, but it’s of appreciation. He smiles despite how tired he feels, sponging your cheeks and chin with gentle kisses as he interlocks your hands by your head. “I love you. Mean it.” 

“With all your heart?” You ask.

He nods tightly and pulls your clasped hands to his warm chest. “With all my heart.” 

hellishjoel masterlist | notifications blog

[skerban]

Cafe at Home…

𖤐 Mike Schmidt x reader

[masterlist]

Felt like writing for him… i need him.

Being a good friend of Mike Schmidt, you decide to make him breakfast and make him coffee just so he doesn’t have to feel stressed :( you’ve already taken care of everything else and Mike needs the day off before work!

You rarely visited Mike, all because of a schedule change in your job.

You used to work nights at a local cafe you worked for, considering the owner trusted you enough to keep the cafe open at night, yet you still managed.

But you finally were able to get the day off, and the messages you received from mike were… incredibly concerning.

The last message you got back from him was weeks ago. You didn’t want to pry but you just wanted to make sure he was at least alright and why he was not responding to you.

At this point, you’ve given up trying to contact him, instead aiming to go over to his house instead. You thought it seemed a bit childish, but you wanted to make sure he was taking care of himself.

You got up early, at five to be exact, because Mike’s house wasn’t…. necessarily near. You got dressed in something comfortable, a pair of baggy pants and a random shirt from your closet. You quickly put your shoes on, before grabbing your keys while putting on your coat, and making your way to the front door. You opened it and closed it behind you, locking it before you made your way to your car.

Finally getting in your car, you made sure that you didn’t forget anything. You had your keys, phone, and whatever else you needed.

Driving to his house made your heart race, not out of anxiety but… his reaction. Hell, you haven’t even spoken to him for weeks!

Before you even realized it, you were already at his house, you pulled into the driveway, noticing his car was untouched. The usual Mike, you thought.

You turned your car off and took the keys out of the engine. Taking a breath in and exhaling, you grabbed your stuff, finally exiting your vehicle.

Making your way to his front door wasn’t as bad as you thought. You remembered he had told you if you ever wanted to come over, he would leave a spare key under the door mat. You bent down and lifted the mat in front of you. You grabbed it and put it into his lock, turning it and pulling it out when it finally unlocked.

You kept the spare key on you, just in case someone saw you with it… you couldn’t afford someone breaking into Mike’s house…

When you entered the house, and closing the door behind you, you took your shoes off and out them next to the front door. You let out a sigh at how empty the place looked.

You had suggested to Mike to put some decorations and he made fake promises that he would, but you couldn’t get mad at him for not doing so.

When you made your way to the kitchen, you opened the fridge. You had to move back at the sight, your brows scrunching. There was barely anything, but you knew you could make well with it.

You opened the small pantry in the corner, looking for the ingredients to make what you personally liked, pancakes.

Taking your coat off and hanging it on of the seats near the dining table, you put your hair up, and took out all of the ingredients. Quickly washing your hands, and there they went to work.

You wanted to make sure you weren’t making too much of a commotion, not exactly wanting to wake up Abby or Mike.

You looked at the time on the oven, before realizing you had taken way longer than you thought. It was only 7:46. You knew Abby had to go to school soon, but you were positive Mike was still asleep. You made a small batch of pancakes, saving the rest of ingredients for Mike when he woke up.

While you put the a small bit of the batter onto the pan, you took a step back, and made your way to where Abby’s room was, at least where you think it was.

You made sure to be quiet when entering her room, before gently waking her up. You whispered out that you made her something to eat in the morning. You smiled as she got out of bed, as you quickly made your way to the kitchen.

You eventually finish only two pancakes, and they didn’t look too presentable, but they would still work, you think.

You ket Abby eat and you talked with her for a bit, before finally getting ready to take her to school. The school wasn’t far and you were sure Mike would still be sleeping when you go back.

You drove your car and gave small talk with Abby, asking her things like; How was she? How was Mike? If anything special happened.

You listened to her before you finally pulled up to the school. You gave her a small hug in the car, before she got out and waved out towards you. You smiled and waved back, waiting a minute or two before finally pulling out of the parking lot and driving back to Mike’s home.

Arriving back at his home, letting yourself in again, and making the pancakes again was a delight. You hadn’t baked or.. well made any sort of dessert for anyone or even for yourself in years. You’re a barista not a baker.

With time, you made the batter again, pouring some of the smooth batter onto the hot pan. You let out a small sigh before you looked towards the living room, somewhat expecting Mike to come out from the corner.

You’d never admit it, but, you truly care about Mike. You didn’t know if it was out of love or just as friends.. maybe even family. You felt something in you that only happened with him, yet you always brushed it aside.

You quickly shook your head before you turned your attention back at the pancakes. You continued to make more and more, the scent from the dessert spreading around the house.

As you were making the dessert, you heard small footsteps, making your heart pound against your chest.

“(reader)..?” The familiar low-pitched voice spoke out. You paused and looked over your shoulder, looking at the one and only Mike.

You smiled and closed your eyes, “Hey Mike.” You held in your laughter as his brows scrunched, clearly confused.

“You weren’t responding to my messages.. so i thought i’d give you a small visit.” You gave a nervous laugh before going back to the pancakes, the bowl that was once filled with batter, now empty.

He let out a small groan as he rubbed his eyes, “I..I know.. its just—“

“I know.” You interrupted him, turning the stove off and looking at the plate of… presentable pieces of desserts.

You grabbed a plate and put it onto the table, near the kitchen, and motioned for him to sit.

He looked guilty, but that was because he felt sorry for not responding to you, yet you only cared if he was alright.

“Serve yourself.” You smiled and sat in front of him, not bothering to get a piece to eat.

He looked at the plate of pancakes and back at you, his eyes practically judging you, or.. well you think.

“I know— I know. Im a barista… my pancakes aren’t going to look.. that well.” You rambled out, crossing your arms, and scoffing.

He quickly shook his head and let out a small laugh, “Not that. You aren’t going to eat?”

Your eyes widened slightly, looking at him, before your cheeks slightly flushed.

“I.. I ate before i got here and— don”t laugh at my pancakes—!” You hissed out, clearly embarrassed by the misconception you made.

He only chuckled before serving himself.

You only watched in silence before tapping your fingers against the smooth surface, letting your eyes glide to a different part of the room.

“Mike, is there a specific reason to why you stopped… talking to me?” Your voice quiet, almost inaudible, yet the man in front of you managed to hear it. He looked up from his plate, looking at you, before turning his gaze back to his half-empty plate.

You kept your eyes on him, wanting to know if you did something wrong.

He gave a sigh and brought one of his hands to rub the side of his head. “It.. it’s hard to explain, (reader).”

“Then help me understand.” You pleaded before you turned your gaze to your hands in your lap.

“I get it if you,” you paused before shaking your head, “i get it if you don’t want to talk with me anymore. But.. you could’ve atleast told me something.”

He let out a shaky sigh, “No..no that’s not it.” He rubbed his temples, trying to put words into his mouth to explain it properly to you.

You waited patiently, wanting him to give at least a small explanation.

“It’s just.. personal things and work.” His voice was quiet, “I didn’t want to… i didn’t want to put my problems with you.” He finally got out.

Oh, so he didn’t hate you.

You gave a relieved sigh before you looked him with stern eyes. “You know you can ask me for help anytime, whether its with work or.. just anything!” Your voice slightly rose yet you made sure to stay calm.

He only looked up at you before nodding. Your face fell as you looked at the guilt covering his face. You got up and put a hand onto his shoulder.

“You can have the whole morning off, and.. we can spend the day doing what we used to do, okay?” You smiled as he turned his head to look at you, his eyes going from your hand to you.

“But Abby—“

“She’s already at school, don’t worry.”

He let out a small breath before giving a small smile.

You two spent the whole morning binge watching movies and reenacting good ‘ol times. Yes, Abby was picked up and you took care of her while Mister Mike Schmidt went to work.

mike just needs a break :( and yes i know pancakes aren’t dessert but.. for the sake of this they are

reminder that requests are opened ^_^

[yoursinisforgiven]

FANGIRL ──

pairing: elias x reader (barista/boss) 

cw: smut, afab reader, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, denied orgasm, band au, elias is the bassist, reader is the band manager, a few sexual jokes, reader is implied to be slightly older than elias.

you are responsible for your own media consumption.

Hollow! Hollow! Hollow!

The crowd’s chant reverberates like a heartbeat, pounding in unison and growing louder with each repetition. The air is electric, pulsing with anticipation, and the floor beneath your feet seems to vibrate with their collective energy. You cringe slightly at the heavy stench of alcohol, sweat, and cheap cologne swirling around the venue. It’s a sensory overload—bright, flashing lights, the roar of voices, and the faint hum of feedback from the stage amplifiers.

You’re barely catching your breath, trying to wrangle the chaos backstage, when someone slams into you. Hard.

“Hey—!” you start, spinning around, your voice sharp and ready to cut.

It’s the drummer, Lex, bent over and gasping like he’s just run a marathon. His black tank top clings to his skin, drenched in sweat, and his wild blonde hair sticks out in every direction like he’s been struck by lightning.

“Lex,” you snap, narrowing your eyes. “What the hell are you doing? Watch where you’re going—”

He cuts you off, his voice rasping, “Elias. He’s gone.”

Your stomach drops. “What do you mean he’s gone?”

Lex straightens slightly, his breathing still ragged. “He’s gone. Like, I-can’t-find-him kind of gone. We’re supposed to be on in five minutes, and he’s not answering his phone.” He fumbles with his drumsticks, tapping them nervously against his thigh. “I swear, if he bailed to hit up some dive bar or chat up some random girl—”

“Not helping,” you snap, already pulling your phone from your pocket. Your hands tremble slightly, whether from frustration or the gnawing anxiety clawing at your chest, you’re not sure. You dial Elias’s number, pressing the phone to your ear, but it rings and rings before going straight to voicemail.

The crowd outside continues their chant, louder now, more impatient. Hollow! Hollow! Hollow! The venue manager pops his head backstage, his expression tight with irritation. “Three minutes, people. Get your lead singer on stage, or I’m cutting your set.”

You grit your teeth, slamming your phone back into your pocket. “Lex, where did you last see him?”

The drummer hesitates, glancing toward the green room. “He was back there, messing with his guitar… but then he said something about needing fresh air.”

Your jaw clenches. Fresh air? Seriously? You spin on your heel and march toward the green room, throwing the door open. It’s empty, save for a few scattered beer cans and Elias’s leather jacket draped over the couch. His guitar leans against the wall, untouched.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath. You’re already halfway out the backstage exit, scanning the alley outside. The night air is cold compared to the stifling heat of the venue, and the faint glow of a cigarette catches your eye.

There he is, leaning against the wall, his head tilted back, exhaling a plume of smoke into the air. He’s dressed in his usual all-black ensemble, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the tattoos winding around his forearms. His guitar pick dangles from a chain around his neck, catching the dim light.

“Elias,” you bark, your voice sharp enough to cut through the night.

He doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he turns his head lazily, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hey, boss.”

“Hey, boss?” you repeat, seething. “Do you have any idea what’s going on in there? The crowd is losing their minds, the venue manager is about to kick us off the lineup, and you’re out here—what? Having a smoke break?”

Elias stubs out the cigarette against the wall and shrugs. “Relax. They’re not going anywhere.” He pushes off the wall, taking a step toward you. His voice drops, smooth and annoyingly calm. “The crowd always waits for what they want.”

You glare at him, crossing your arms. “And what they want is the band. On stage. Now.”

He grins, brushing past you toward the door. “Then let’s give them a show they’ll never forget.”

You follow him back inside, your pulse pounding. The chant grows deafening as the stage lights dim and the band takes their places. Elias steps up to the mic, his presence magnetic, and for a moment, the chaos melts away.

Then he looks back at you, winks, and leans into the mic, his voice low and commanding:

“Let’s make some noise.”

The crowd erupts, and you can’t help but think, This is going to be one hell of a night.

──

The bus ride back to the hotel was oppressively quiet—exactly as you’d demanded it to be. It wasn’t unusual for the band to chatter and laugh after a show, buzzing with the adrenaline of the stage, but tonight, you’d made it clear there would be no celebrating. Silence hung thick in the air, a punishment for the utter chaos backstage.

You could have lectured them further. God knows they deserved it, especially Elias, who had strolled on stage with seconds to spare like nothing was wrong. But you hated the idea of subjecting the poor bus driver to your tirade—it wasn’t his fault your job felt like herding a pack of unruly rockstars.

Instead, you leaned back against the plush leather seats, the faint hum of the engine a poor attempt at soothing your nerves. The bus, sleek and luxurious, was one of the many perks funded by the band’s revenue. Of course, most of the money didn’t come from ticket sales or merch—it came from Elias’s father.

You hadn’t met the man in person, but his shadow loomed over everything. A “big company owner,” Elias had said once, in that dismissive way of his, waving off any further questions. It was only later, after some digging of your own, that you learned the truth. Weapons. Elias’s father sold weapons.

To whom? You didn’t know. You didn’t want to know. The implications alone were enough to make your stomach churn. Still, you’d made the decision to keep this knowledge buried. The public didn’t need to know, and neither did the band. The scandal would destroy everything, and despite their flaws, you cared about them too much to let that happen.

The bus hit a small bump, jostling you out of your thoughts. Across the aisle, Lex was slouched in his seat, his headphones on as he stared blankly out the window. Milo and Kai were half-asleep in the back, their heads bobbing with the motion of the bus. Elias, of course, was stretched out in the seat directly across from you, one leg casually draped over the armrest.

He caught your eye, a smirk pulling at his lips. “You’re awfully quiet, boss. Is this the part where you give us the ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’ speech?”

You shot him a glare. “No. I figured I’d save it for the morning, when you’re sober enough to feel guilty.”

Elias chuckled, tipping his head back against the seat. “Fair enough. But you know, the crowd loved us tonight. All that yelling backstage? Just part of the charm.”

“Charm?” you repeated, incredulous. “You call almost missing your set charm?”

“I call it keeping things interesting.” He grinned, the kind of grin that made you want to scream and laugh at the same time.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to look away. His confidence was infuriating, but damn if it didn’t work. That stage presence, that magnetic pull—it was why the fans chanted his name like a prayer.

The bus finally rolled to a stop outside the hotel, the neon lights of the marquee reflecting off the windows. One by one, the band members filed out, their energy subdued after the long night.

As you stepped off the bus, Elias lingered at the door, holding it open for you with an exaggerated bow. “After you, boss.”

“Don’t push your luck,” you muttered, brushing past him.

He laughed softly, falling into step beside you. “Always a pleasure.”

The night air was crisp, and the faint sound of city traffic hummed in the background. You glanced up at the towering hotel, already dreading tomorrow’s chaos. But for now, you allowed yourself one deep breath, savoring the fleeting calm.

You didn’t notice Elias watching you, his smirk softening into something almost unreadable.

──

“What do you mean there’s not enough rooms?” you snapped, your patience worn thin.

The receptionist, a weary-looking woman with dark circles under her eyes, sighed and once again repeated the same tired line. “We apologize for the inconvenience, but there’s simply not enough rooms available. We can offer you a refund if you'd prefer, but we can’t ask anyone to leave their room.”

You felt your jaw tighten as you fought the urge to snap back. You were already tired of hearing the same excuse, and the band’s growing frustration only added to the weight of the situation.

“Just give me the damn keys,” you muttered, holding out your hand.

The receptionist hesitated for a moment, before slowly handing over the key cards, her eyes flicking nervously to the group behind you. You could feel her wanting to be anywhere else, but right now, you didn’t have the energy to care about her discomfort.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice clipped, before turning sharply on your heel to lead the way to the elevator. The boys followed, trailing behind like a pack of reluctant puppies, the tension between them palpable.

Once inside, the elevator doors closed with a soft thud. The usual hum of its ascent filled the silence for a moment, before you turned to Elias, who was leaning casually against the back wall, arms crossed and eyes studying the buttons.

“This is all your fault, you know,” you said, your voice low but pointed.

Elias blinked, momentarily shocked by your tone. Then, without skipping a beat, he let out a dry laugh. “Really? How so?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t play dumb,” you shot back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “If you hadn’t decided to pull that stunt during the show, you would’ve performed sooner, meaning we would’ve been here earlier and could’ve gotten our damn rooms.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but Milo’s voice suddenly chimed in from behind you. “She has a point, man.”

You felt a small spark of satisfaction, but it was short-lived. Kai shushed Milo with a sharp glance, and the supporting bassist immediately fell silent, his eyes darting between you and Elias.

Elias grinned, unfazed. “Yeah, yeah, but you can’t blame me for the crowd’s energy. It was their fault they were so loud—just trying to keep them on their toes.”

Before you could respond with a biting retort, the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. You stepped out immediately, leading the way down the hallway toward the rooms. The boys followed, their footsteps echoing softly in the otherwise quiet corridor.

Elias caught up to you, his usual cocky demeanor back in place. “You’re really gonna make me sleep on the floor, huh? All because of a little ‘punishment’? I thought we were past this.”

You shot him a sideways glance, not breaking your stride. “Don’t push it, Elias. You’ve already caused enough problems for one night.”

The band fell into a quiet rhythm behind you as you navigated the maze of hotel hallways. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance at the thought of spending another night dealing with their antics. But despite all the chaos, you couldn’t deny the bond that had formed between you and the band, even if it often felt like you were the only one trying to keep it all together.

Once at the rooms, you made sure they were all lined up in a neat row, your version of damage control after the debacle at the front desk. Three rooms—there should have been four, but luck clearly wasn’t on your side tonight.

You turned to the boys, eyeing them with the scrutiny of a drill sergeant. “Alright,” you said, holding up the key cards. “Kai, Milo—these are yours.”

They each stepped forward to grab their keys, Kai muttering a quiet “thanks” while Milo gave you a sheepish grin before retreating toward their respective doors.

That left two keys, two boys, and one very significant question: Who do I trust more to have a room to themselves?

Your gaze flicked between Lex and Elias. Lex, the walking ball of nervous energy who could probably use some alone time to decompress. And then there was Elias—smirking, leaning casually against the wall like he didn’t have a care in the world, radiating the kind of chaos that could start a fire just by walking into a room.

With a reluctant sigh, you handed the last key to Lex. “Here,” you said, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he didn’t argue. He took the key and quickly disappeared into his room, leaving you alone with Elias.

You turned to him, your glare sharp enough to cut steel. “You’re sleeping with me.”

Elias’s grin widened instantly, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. “I don’t have any condoms,” he said, his tone dripping with mock innocence.

You scoffed, biting back a retort as you turned on your heel and unlocked the door to your shared room. You didn’t trust yourself to look at him—didn’t want to see the satisfaction practically radiating off him, or worse, let him see the flush creeping up your neck.

The door clicked open, and you stepped inside without a word. Elias followed, sauntering in with that infuriating swagger like he owned the place.

The room was modest but inviting—plush white bedding, a small sitting area, and soft lighting that bathed everything in a warm glow. The faint scent of fresh linen and lavender hung in the air, a stark contrast to the chaos of the night.

You dropped your bag onto the armchair by the window, finally allowing yourself a deep breath. When you turned around, there he was, sprawled across the bed like a cat in a sunbeam, his phone already in hand. His legs hung off the side, one arm tucked behind his head, completely at ease.

“Elias,” you said, your tone sharp enough to cut glass.

“Hmm?” he replied absently, not bothering to look up from his phone.

“Get the hell up,” you snapped, crossing your arms. “You need to shower.”

He finally glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “What, now? I’m comfortable.”

“You reek of sweat, alcohol, and bad decisions,” you shot back. “I’m not spending the night breathing that in.”

Elias smirked, setting his phone down on his chest. “Oh, come on, boss. I thought we were bonding.”

“Bonding?” you echoed, incredulous. “If you don’t get in that shower right now, you’ll be bonding with the hallway carpet.”

He laughed at that, a deep, warm sound that somehow managed to be both infuriating and contagious. But instead of arguing further, he swung his legs off the bed and stood, stretching lazily.

“Fine, fine,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Anything to keep you happy.”

You stepped aside as he made his way to the bathroom, mumbling something under your breath about how his definition of ‘keeping you happy’ involved doing the bare minimum.

The door closed behind him with a soft click, and the sound of water running soon followed. You let out a long sigh, the tension in your shoulders easing ever so slightly.

For the first time all night, the room was quiet, and you allowed yourself a moment to sit on the edge of the bed, your gaze drifting to the window. The city lights sparkled in the distance, a constant reminder of the world outside this bubble of chaos.

But the peace was short-lived.

The bathroom door cracked open, and Elias poked his head out, steam billowing around him. “Hey, do you want me to leave you any hot water, or…?”

You glared at him. “Just shower, Elias.”

He grinned, disappearing back into the bathroom. You shook your head, half-exasperated, half-amused.

──

After your shower, you stepped out of the bathroom, a towel slung over your shoulder, ready to give Elias a piece of your mind. The lukewarm water you’d endured was enough to rile you up, even if you hadn’t explicitly told him to save any hot water.

But as you emerged, the words caught in your throat. Elias wasn’t sprawled across the bed like you’d expected. Instead, he stood by the window, the curtain pulled back, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the city lights and the vast expanse of the night sky beyond.

“What are you looking at?” you muttered, your annoyance momentarily forgotten as you approached him.

He didn’t turn right away, his gaze fixed on the stars above. “The sky,” he said softly.

You raised an eyebrow, stopping a few steps behind him. “I can see that. Why?”

Elias finally glanced over his shoulder at you, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips. “Because it’s peaceful,” he replied. “Doesn’t it feel like... no matter how loud or messy the world gets, the stars stay the same?”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. Gone was the cocky, teasing demeanor he usually wore like armor. This Elias was quieter, contemplative, almost vulnerable.

“I guess I’ve never thought about it like that,” you admitted, stepping closer to stand beside him.

He motioned toward the window, and you followed his gaze. The city’s glow didn’t drown out the stars entirely; a faint scattering of them still twinkled against the dark canvas of the sky.

“Back when I was a kid,” Elias began, his voice low, “I used to sneak out at night and climb onto the roof of our house just to look at the stars. My dad would yell at me if he caught me, but I didn’t care. It was the one place I could just... breathe.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the candidness of his confession. “I didn’t know you were into stargazing.”

“I’m full of surprises,” he said, his smirk returning briefly before fading again. “But yeah, it’s always been my thing. Makes me feel small, in a good way. Like all the stuff that feels so big and important down here—it doesn’t really matter up there.”

You leaned against the window frame, the cool glass pressing lightly against your arm. “You’re not wrong,” you said, your voice softer now. “Sometimes it’s nice to remember that the world doesn’t revolve around us.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in comfortable silence, the hum of the city below blending with the quiet of the night.

“You ever wonder what’s out there?” Elias asked suddenly, nodding toward the stars. “I mean, really out there?”

“All the time,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But I try not to think too hard about it. My brain starts hurting.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Fair enough.”

You looked at him then, his profile softened by the dim light, his usual sharp edges smoothed out in the stillness of the moment. It was rare to see Elias like this—unguarded, thoughtful, human.

“Thanks for sharing this,” you said quietly.

He turned to you, his gaze meeting yours for a beat longer than expected. “Thanks for not kicking me out of the band yet,” he said, his smirk returning, though there was a hint of sincerity in his tone.

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitched upward. “Don’t push your luck.”

Elias chuckled again, turning back to the window. “Deal.”

You moved to the bed, your feet sinking into the plush carpet as you grabbed one of the pillows and placed it firmly in the middle of the mattress. You sat down on your side with purpose, patting the edge of the pillow barrier as if to emphasize its importance.

“This,” you said, pointing to one side, “is your side.”

Then you pointed to the space beneath you, your expression unwavering. “And this is my side. Don’t cross it.”

Elias, still by the window, turned his head to look at you, a bemused grin tugging at his lips. “A pillow wall? Really? What are we, twelve?”

“Call it whatever you want,” you said, sliding beneath the covers. “But if I wake up with so much as a toe on my side, you’re sleeping in the hallway.”

He laughed, finally moving away from the window. “You’re so dramatic, boss,” he teased, pulling off his hoodie and tossing it onto a nearby chair.

“And you’re so annoying,” you shot back, fluffing your pillow and lying down.

Elias clicked off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness save for the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. You could hear the rustling of fabric as he climbed into bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and amused. “I’ll stay on my side.”

“You better,” you muttered, closing your eyes.

For a moment, there was silence, the kind that felt heavy but not unpleasant. The kind that allowed you to hear the subtle sounds of his breathing, steady and calm. You were almost convinced he’d settled in for the night when his voice broke the quiet.

“Hey,” he said softly.

You cracked one eye open, though he probably couldn’t see it in the dark. “What?”

“You trust me, right?”

The question caught you off guard, and you turned your head slightly toward him, though the pillow wall still kept you apart. “Why are you asking me that?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his tone lighter now, as if trying to downplay the seriousness of his question. “Just wondering.”

You frowned, debating your answer. “I trust you to stay on your side of the bed,” you said finally, your tone dry.

Elias chuckled, the sound soft and warm in the darkness. “Guess that’s a start.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to face the ceiling. But as you lay there, you found yourself thinking about the way he’d stared at the stars earlier, the quiet vulnerability he rarely let anyone see.

“Goodnight, Elias,” you said after a beat, your voice softer than before.

“Goodnight, boss,” he replied, and for the first time since the chaos of the evening began, you felt a sense of calm settle over you

──

The warmth of the sun beamed against your skin, coaxing you from the edges of sleep. You groaned, squinting against the golden light flooding the room. Elias hadn’t closed the curtains last night—of course he hadn’t. Typical.

The heat was oddly comforting, blanketing you in a way that made you reluctant to move. You shifted slightly, intending to pull the covers over your face, when you noticed something strange. The warmth wasn’t just from the sun—it felt heavier, closer, alive.

Your eyes flew open, and your breath caught in your throat.

Elias.

He was right there, one arm draped over your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His dark hair was tousled, brushing against your skin with each soft exhale. His body pressed against yours, radiating heat that explained why you’d felt so warm.

“What the—” you whispered, your heart pounding as you froze in place.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, trying to piece together how this had happened. The pillow barrier you’d so carefully constructed was nowhere in sight, discarded on the floor like it had never existed.

Elias stirred, his grip tightening slightly as he mumbled something incoherent. His voice was rough with sleep, and the sound sent a strange jolt through you—part irritation, part... something else entirely.

You swallowed hard, torn between shoving him off and pretending you hadn’t noticed. But when his eyelashes fluttered and he began to wake, the decision was made for you.

“Elias!” you hissed, shoving at his chest.

He groaned, his eyes cracking open just enough to meet yours. For a moment, he looked confused, then amused as a lazy smirk spread across his face.

“Morning, boss,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep. “You’re warm.”

You felt your face heat, and it wasn’t just from the sun. “What the hell are you doing on my side of the bed?”

“Your side?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Pretty sure you’re in my arms, which makes this my side now.”

You shoved him harder, finally breaking free from his hold as you scrambled to the edge of the bed. “Unbelievable,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair. “I knew this would happen.”

Elias sat up, stretching with an infuriating lack of shame. “Relax. It’s not like I planned it. You must’ve rolled over in your sleep and decided I was more comfortable than that pillow.”

You glared at him, your cheeks still burning. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He grinned, leaning back on his elbows as he watched you with that infuriatingly smug expression. “Don’t worry, boss. Your secret’s safe with me.”

You grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at him. He caught it easily, laughing as he flopped back onto the bed.

Almost as quickly as the moment came, it ended. You bolted out of the bed, your face still warm, and hurried into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind you. Leaning against the sink, you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the mortifying memory of waking up tangled in Elias’s arms.

After washing your face and throwing on a simple outfit, you stepped out of the bathroom, only to freeze mid-step.

There was Elias, standing in the middle of the room in nothing but his boxers, pulling a shirt over his head.

“Elias!” you snapped, your voice breaking slightly as your eyes darted anywhere but at him.

He glanced at you, entirely unbothered, as he tugged the hem of his shirt into place. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?!” you sputtered, gesturing wildly. “You’re dressing in the middle of the hotel room—our shared hotel room!”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression perfectly deadpan. “You told me to dress. So, I’m dressing.”

“In the bathroom!” you hissed. “Like a normal person!”

Elias smirked, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “You didn’t specify where. You gotta be more clear with your instructions, boss.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re impossible.” You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath as you grabbed your bag and followed him out of the room.

──

Downstairs, the hotel’s dining area was already bustling with activity. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air, mingling with the chatter of guests and the clinking of cutlery.

Kai and Milo were already seated at a table near the buffet, their plates piled high with an assortment of food. Kai was mid-bite into what looked like his second waffle, while Milo was carefully crafting the perfect stack of pancakes. Lex was nowhere to be seen.

“Morning,” Kai greeted through a mouthful of food, waving you over.

“Charming,” you said dryly, taking a seat across from him.

Elias plopped down next to you, grabbing a menu despite the obvious buffet setup. “Where’s Lex?” he asked, glancing around.

Milo shrugged, not looking up from his pancakes. “He said he’d be down in a bit. Probably still doing his hair or something.”

“Of course,” you muttered, pouring yourself a cup of coffee. “Heaven forbid Lex shows up without his signature ‘just rolled out of bed but still perfect’ look.”

Elias grinned, leaning back in his chair. “The fans love it. Gotta give the people what they want.”

You shot him a look. “Speaking of giving people what they want, maybe try showing up to rehearsal on time for once.”

Kai snickered, earning a glare from Elias. “You’re really gonna start lecturing me before I’ve had my coffee?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, taking a sip of your own.

Lex finally appeared, his hair styled immaculately as predicted, and slid into the seat beside Milo. “Morning,” he said smoothly, as if he hadn’t kept everyone waiting.

“Nice of you to join us, Your Majesty,” you said, earning a chuckle from Kai.

As the band dug into their breakfasts, the conversation shifted to plans for the day—a mix of rehearsal schedules, sound checks, and your relentless reminders to stay on track. Despite the chaos they brought into your life, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride as you watched them bicker and joke around the table.

You made your way to the coffee bar, Elias trailing close behind like a curious shadow. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you picked up an empty cup and began pouring. You felt his eyes on you, but you ignored him, focusing on your task.

Elias leaned on the counter beside you, watching as you moved to the foam dispenser. With precise movements, you tilted the cup, swirling the foam into an intricate design—a blooming rose topped with a delicate swirl of caramel. The golden drizzle glistened under the soft lighting, and for a moment, even you were impressed by your handiwork.

“How the hell are you doing that?” Elias asked, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief.

You glanced at him, your lips twitching into a small smile. “I used to be a barista,” you said simply, grabbing a lid and snapping it onto the cup.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “You mean to tell me you’ve been holding out on us this whole time? You could’ve been making coffee like this instead of yelling at us every morning?”

“Yelling gets results,” you shot back, handing him the cup. “Here. Drink up. We leave in five—and don’t drink too much. It might infect your piercing” You’d been there with him when he got his tongue pierced, the memory being a small smile to your face. 

Elias took the cup, still staring at the caramel swirl as if it held the secrets of the universe. “You’re full of surprises, boss,” he murmured before taking a sip.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, already walking away toward the front desk to return the keys.

The hotel lobby was bustling with early risers checking out and staff hurrying to assist. You handed over the keys to the receptionist, exchanging polite smiles, before turning to see the rest of the band loitering near the doors.

Kai was scrolling on his phone, his duffel bag slung carelessly over one shoulder. Milo was fiddling with a zipper on his backpack, looking uncharacteristically frustrated. Lex, of course, was preoccupied with his reflection in the glass doors, adjusting his sunglasses despite being indoors.

“Let’s move, people,” you called out, clapping your hands once for emphasis. “The van’s waiting, and we’ve got a schedule to keep.”

──

Hollow! Hollow! Hollow!

The chant of the crowd echoed through the venue, relentless and deafening. Even in the quieter backstage corridors, where the chaos was muffled by layers of concrete and insulation, the energy seeped through like an unstoppable tide.

Another city, another show, another headache pounding away at your temples. You massaged your forehead in frustration, the din outside doing little to help your mood. New city, same people, you thought grimly, the words looping in your mind like a mantra. The idea of enduring this for another three months made your stomach churn.

No more tours for a while, you resolved silently. They need a break. I need a break.

The band wasn’t due on stage for another twenty minutes, and you had just enough time to check in on Elias. He’d been acting strange all day—quieter than usual, more distracted. Even for him, it was odd.

You turned sharply, weaving through the labyrinth of backstage hallways. The crew was buzzing with activity: someone shouting about a misplaced mic, another hauling coiled cables over their shoulder, a group discussing last-minute adjustments to the lighting. You sidestepped all of it with practiced ease, your focus locked on Elias’s dressing room.

Reaching the door, you knocked twice—a warning—then pushed it open without waiting for an answer.

Elias was sprawled on the small couch, his legs stretched out and his phone in hand. The dim light of the screen cast a faint glow on his face. He didn’t even flinch at your sudden entrance, though the way his eyes darted up at you screamed guilt.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

He hesitated, his thumb hovering over his phone’s screen. “...Ordering food?”

“Twenty minutes before you’re supposed to be on stage?” you snapped, your tone sharp. “No. Absolutely not. Wait until after.”

Elias groaned, slumping further into the couch like a teenager being scolded. “Come on, it’s just a quick order. I’m starving.”

“You’ll survive,” you shot back, striding over and snatching the phone from his hand. “Perform first, eat later. That’s how this works.”

He sighed dramatically, throwing an arm over his eyes like a child who’d been told they couldn’t have their way. You shook your head, the exasperation clear in your tone as you moved to sit beside him on the couch.

“Find something to eat on set or wait until after,” you said firmly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Elias was quiet for a moment, his chest rising and falling with a slow, almost theatrical breath. You could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he contemplated his options.

Finally, he shifted, lifting his arm just enough to peek at you through his fingers. “If I find something... you promise you’ll let me eat it?” His voice was teasing, but there was an edge of seriousness to it, as if he was daring you to break your word.

You furrowed your brows, confused at what he was getting at. “Yes?” you replied, not quite understanding why he was making such a big deal of this.

Elias sat up, looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’re not going to stop me, are you?”

The room feels charged, the air thick with tension as Elias doesn’t wait for any acknowledgment. He’s already moving, slipping off the couch with an ease that makes your pulse quicken. Before you can even fully process it, he’s kneeling in front of you, his hands sliding slowly up your thigh, his touch warm against your skin.

He lowers his head to your lap, his gaze locking with yours, dark and intense. You can feel his breath warm against your skin as he rests there, his body close enough to make your heart race. His eyes, always so full of that familiar intensity, flicker with something deeper now. Something that makes your pulse race in a way that is both thrilling and dangerous.

“Elias–”

“Please…” he murmurs again, and the word wraps around your chest like a coil, tightening with every breath you take. It’s a simple request, but the way he says it—like it’s something he needs, like it’s something you have the power to give him—sends a shiver through your body.

His lips brush against your inner thigh as he shifts, the whisper of the touch almost enough to break your composure. You try to maintain control, but his presence, his proximity, it’s suffocating in the best way. You feel the weight of his desire pressing against you, and despite yourself, you can’t help but feel the pull toward him. The need to give in, to let him have what he’s asking for.

“You know what I want,” he says softly, his voice low and laden with something darker now, something that makes your body ache with anticipation.

Elias's hands slid higher, his fingers curling around the waistband of your pants. With a wicked glint in his eye, he hooked his fingers into the fabric and slowly, teasingly, began to peel them down your hips. You lifted your bottom off the couch to help him, your heart pounding as the cool air hit your bare skin.

"Elias, what are you doing?" you gasped, a thrill of anticipation and nerves fluttering in your stomach as he revealed more and more of your most intimate area. The damp patch at the crotch of your panties was growing, the evidence of your arousal staining the delicate material.

Elias didn't answer, his focus solely on the task at hand. He tugged your pants down your legs, tossing them carelessly to the side once he had them off. Leaning in, he nuzzled against your inner thigh, his breath hot and teasing against your sensitive flesh. You could feel the slight stubble of his jaw, the softness of his lips as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your skin, slowly working his way upward.

As he reached the apex of your thighs, Elias paused. You could feel his eyes on you, dark and intense as he gazed up at you through his lashes. Without warning, he leaned in and pressed his mouth against your clothed sex, his tongue emerging to trace the outline of your slit through the damp fabric.

A jolt of pleasure shot through you at the contact, your hips jerking involuntarily. At the same time, you felt a unfamiliar hardness against your thigh - the cool metal of a piercing, nestled in the warmth of his tongue. The sensation sent a shiver running up your spine, a sudden rush of arousal flooding your core.

"Oh god, Elias," you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair as he began to lapped at your clothed sex with increasing fervor. 

Elias hummed against your pantie clan flesh, the vibrations only adding to your burgeoning pleasure. He licked and suckled at your cloth-covered folds, his tongue piercing toying with your sensitive pearl through the damp material. The scent of your arousal filled the air, the musky aroma of your desire thick and heady.

You could feel your juices beginning to seep through the fabric, your essence coating Elias's lips.

Elias's tongue, adorned with its cool metal piercing, continued its relentless assault on your most intimate area. He lapped and suckled at your cloth-covered sex, his mouth growing slick with your arousal seeping through the damp fabric. The sensation of the hard, smooth metal against your sensitive flesh sent electric jolts of pleasure coursing through your veins with each pass of his tongue.

He grasped your thighs, his fingers sinking into the soft skin as he parted your legs further, opening you up to his hungry mouth. Elias's eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark with lust and a primal, almost feral hunger as he watched your reactions to his ministrations. A wicked grin tugged at his lips, revealing the glint of his piercing, before he ducked his head and sealed his mouth fully over your clothed sex.

Elias began to suckle in earnest, his lips parting to draw your damp panties into his mouth. He suckled hard, his tongue delving into the hollow of your clothed entrance, seeking out your hidden pearl. The combination of his hot, wet mouth and the cool metal of his piercing against your aching, swollen nub was almost too much to bear.

He could feel your essence, hot and sticky, beginning to soak through the fabric, coating his lips and chin. The taste of your arousal, the scent of your desire, only seemed to drive him to suckle harder, to lap and lick with greater fervor. Elias's hands slid up to grasp your hips, holding you in place as he feasted on your sex, determined to taste your nectar directly from the source.

With a low, muffled groan against your flesh, Elias released your panties from his lips. Hooking his fingers into the damp material, he began to peel it away, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly revealed your glistening, needy sex to his hungry gaze. Your swollen lips, slick and shining with your juices, quivered in the cool air as Elias drank in the sight of your desire laid bare before him.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice a low, reverent rasp. Elias paused, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh as he gazed up at you with hooded eyes. "Can I take these off, baby?" he murmured, his fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. "I want to taste you properly”

His voice was low and rough with desire, sending shivers down your spine. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, your core clenching with anticipation. You knew you should feel shy, exposed, but the raw hunger in Elias's gaze only fueled your own arousal.

"Please," you breathed, your own voice trembling slightly." A slow, wicked smile spread across Elias's face at your words. Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugged them down your legs, exposing your dripping sex to his heated gaze. The cool air hit your overheated flesh, making you gasp and your hips twitch.

"Fuck, look at you," Elias breathed, his eyes roving over your glistening folds, taking in every inch of your swollen, needy sex. "So fucking wet and ready for me already. I've barely touched you and you're already dripping, baby."

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, making you shiver with anticipation. Then, without warning, he pressed his mouth against your dripping folds, his tongue delving deep into your heated core.

You cried out, your back arching off the couch as Elias began to feast on your sex like a starving man. His tongue explored every inch of your dripping channel, swirling around your swollen walls and lapping up your essence like it was the finest nectar.

Elias's piercing added a delicious edge to every pass of his tongue, the hard metal sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core. He focused on your aching, throbbing clit, suckling and flicking the sensitive bud until your thighs trembled and your toes curled.

Elias's hands slid around to grip your ass, squeezing the firm globes as he pulled you harder against his mouth. He could feel your thick, slick arousal coating his chin and dripping down onto his chest as he suckled and licked with increasing fervor. The scent of your desire filled his nostrils, driving him wild with lust.

He focused his attention on your aching, swollen clit, flicking and circling the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue. At the same time, he plunged two fingers deep into your clenching, gripping channel, pumping them in and out at a steady, intense pace. The combination of his fingers stroking your inner walls and his tongue teasing your clit pushed you closer and closer to the edge of your release.

Elias could feel your body tensing, your breathing growing ragged and shallow. He could sense your impending climax in the way your walls fluttered and clenched around his invading fingers, in the desperate, needy sounds spilling from your lips.

"Yes, that's it," Elias encouraged, his voice a low, lust-filled growl against your sex. To add to your pleasure, Elias lightly grazed your clit with his teeth, applying the slightest pressure as he sucked hard on the sensitive bundle of nerves. At the same time, he curled his fingers inside you, stroking that special spot deep within your core that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head.

The sudden knock on the door feels like a bucket of ice water poured over you, snapping you out of the haze Elias had expertly woven around you. The sharp sound of it reverberates in the room, pulling you back to reality in an instant.

“Five minutes until performance, Elias! Come on, what's taking so long?” Kai’s voice cuts through the thick tension, full of impatience but laced with an undercurrent of amusement. You can hear the faint rustle of him shifting outside the door, and the frustration in his tone only heightens the pressure in the room.

Elias lets out a low, reluctant groan, his body stiffening as if the moment was yanked away from him too soon. He pulls away from your lap, his eyes lingering on you for a moment, dark and full of unspoken promises. His breath is ragged, and his chest rises and falls in rhythm with the heavy tension between you.

He looks up at you, and there’s that smirk again—the one that’s both mischievous and knowing, the one that makes your pulse spike despite yourself. “I’ll make it up to you after the performance,” he says, his voice low, but carrying that unmistakable edge of playfulness. He stands, leaning down just long enough to grab the waistband of your panties, fingers brushing along the fabric before he shoves them into his pocket with a decisive motion.

“For later,” he adds with a wink, his grin growing wider as he straightens up, clearly pleased with the power he holds over you in this moment.

A surge of heat floods your chest, a mix of frustration and arousal, but you hold your ground. “Wipe your face!” you call out, voice sharp as your fingers move to smooth your hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

Elias chuckles softly, not bothering to hide the amusement in his eyes, but there’s something about the way he moves—slow and deliberate—that betrays the lingering tension between you. He runs a hand across his lips, wiping away any trace of the moment you shared, but the mischievous glint never leaves his eyes.

“You’re lucky Kai's timing is impeccable,” he mutters under his breath with a playful tilt of his head. “But don’t forget, you owe me now.”

Your heart skips a beat, and despite yourself, you can’t help but wonder exactly how he plans to collect on that promise.

──

It doesn’t take long for you to regain your composure in Elias’s dressing room, the cool air of the space a welcome contrast to the heat that still lingers from your encounter. You take a deep breath, steadying your pulse before you finally step out, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one sees you slipping away. The last thing you need is anyone catching wind of what just happened—or what’s still hanging between the two of you.

When you make it to the back of the venue, you slip behind the curtains, taking up a position that allows you to watch the performance unfold without drawing attention. The familiar melody fills the air, the one they'd practiced on the drive here, and you can’t help the small smile that creeps onto your lips. Proud, you hum along under your breath, your eyes following the rhythm of the show. Every move, every note—these people, Elias included, had worked so hard, and it’s clear in the way the crowd reacts.

But then, your gaze lands on Elias, and your smile falters. There, practically hanging out of his pocket, is your pair of panties, a sight that’s all too obvious in the spotlight.The heat in your chest flares, your gut sinking as you watch Elias, completely oblivious to the spectacle his little keepsake has caused.

You groan under your breath, already calculating how to explain this to the press. You can see the headlines now—whispers of scandal, rumors of an affair, and God knows what else. Your mind races, trying to come up with some kind of believable story to shut it all down before it gets out of hand. But no matter how many scenarios you run through in your head, none of them seem to make this mess go away.

Elias, of course, seems completely unfazed, still performing with that confident swagger, unaware of the storm brewing behind the scenes.

You glance around, trying to gauge the mood of the backstage crew, and your eyes briefly meet Kai’s. His expression is unreadable, but you can tell he knows exactly what’s going on. Sighing, you lean against the wall, your arms crossing over your chest as you try to hold it together. The night’s not over yet, and despite the chaos unfolding around you, you know one thing for sure, this is going to be a hell of a story to explain.

──

author's note: all credit to @meraki-kiera for the band au!

[saythenametotheworld]

Wonderland | l.yy (18+)

A carefree spring break, a charming stranger, and unforgettable moments that felt like they’d last forever. You and Yangyang both knew it wouldn't, but boy, it was hands down the best spring break ever.

one | TWO | three | four | five

Genre: vacation romance, smut Pairing: Liu Yangyang x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, alcohol, explicit sexual content (18+) Notes: 20k words. Part 2 of the Campus Confessions series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Wonderland by Taylor Swift. Genuinely, let me know what you guys think of this. I am very open-minded to constructive criticism. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: Highway to Heaven by NCT 127, Love Talk by WAYV, Untouchable by Taylor Swift, Wonderland by Taylor Swift

“Didn’t you calm my fears with a Cheshire cat smile?”

Aruba was bursting with color—yellows, blues, pastel pink, and shades of orange. The buildings were vivid with these colors, almost as if they were smiling at you as brightly as the locals did. Even the road to the villa felt like a postcard—trees with twisted trunks that you’d never seen before were bent permanently toward the west, adorning a desert landscape. The ocean shimmered to your left, gleaming blue and inviting, sending reflections of sunlight dancing through the air.

Despite the beauty of it all, you couldn't wait to get to your Airbnb and take a cold shower. The long flight was straining, and the taxi ride felt like a sauna. Your friends weren’t much better—Giselle had asked the driver several times if you were there yet, while Ningning passed out beside you, half-asleep with the windows open.

By the time you arrived at the villa, your brains were too fried to think and picked your rooms at random. The villa was booked by two groups—yours and some strangers. You’d hoped it wouldn’t be awkward, but right now, you couldn’t care less and it seemed like the other group wasn’t there yet. You slipped into the first door you saw, dropping your bag unceremoniously onto the floor. Then you kicked off your shoes and stripped out of your travel clothes with your eyes fixed on the bathroom door ahead. Standing in just your underwear, you pulled your hair into a messy bun, already daydreaming about the cold shower that would bring you back to life.

And then, out of nowhere, you heard the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat.

You froze, hands still gripping your hair, and slowly turned toward the source of the sound. A man was leaning against the headboard of the bed, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze shamelessly roaming from your bare legs up to your wide eyes. 

“You’re welcome to stay,” he said, his voice warm and amused, “but usually, I’d buy a girl dinner first.”

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as your brain scrambled to catch up. The embarrassment hit you fast. You grabbed the dress off the floor, flinging it over yourself with an urgency that only made the situation more awkward. “What the hell?” you managed, your voice coming out sharper than you intended. “Who are you?”

His grin widened, one brow arching as though he found your indignation charming. “Yangyang,” he said simply, like the name alone explained everything. “And you’re clearly not one of my friends, which makes this even more interesting. You must be with the other group.”

Right! This was a shared villa! “Yeah, well, if I’d known someone else was in here, I would’ve knocked,” you shot back, crossing your arms defensively, even though it didn’t help much—given the fact that you were still standing there half-naked.

“Ah, I see. It was my fault. I should've locked the door.” Yangyang’s eyes flickered with amusement, clearly enjoying your reaction. He stepped off the bed and walked toward you with slow, deliberate steps, but there was no real threat in his movements—just an unspoken confidence that radiated from him.

“Sorry,” he apologized, though his tone was far from sorry. “But next time, maybe try the door before you barge in and… unpack. I can’t be expected to play the gentleman if you don’t give me the chance to act shocked, you know?” 

You didn't say anything, conscious about the way he was looking at you now that he was closer. Only then were you able to get a good look at him—dark, neatly parted hair that framed his face, a downturned nose that balanced his delicate features, dark eyes with a glint of mischief in them, and lips curved in a soft, effortless smile.

He's cute, you caught yourself thinking. “Aren't you leaving?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Yangyang flashed you a toothy grin, one that reminded you of the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. “Not without thanking you for the entertainment. I must say, it was a bold first impression.”

“I wasn’t trying to impress anyone,” you retorted, tightening the dress around your body. “Could you please just get out of my room?”

Yangyang shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze still scanning you with that unhurried intensity. “It’s not your room, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a little lower, more playful now. “I called dibs on it first. If you’re going to claim it, you’ll have to be more convincing.”

You huffed, looking away and hoping he’d just walk out of the door like he was intending to. Yangyang turned the doorknob but didn’t open the door yet.

“You know what, it’s all yours,” he said, making you glance at him. He was shamelessly ogling at your body, again. “You are making it a little hard to say ‘no’,” he added with a wink.

You gasped, a flush rising on your cheeks again, but before you could respond, he gave a lazy wave and stepped out. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you flustered with a memory you wouldn’t soon forget.

Later that evening, you woke up feeling rested but starving. The soft glow of sunset was pouring into the room from the floor-to-ceiling window, and the view from where you sat on the bed was majestic. You didn’t pass up the chance to grab your phone and snap a photo. After that, you rose and stepped out of the bedroom.

The faint sound of music and laughter drifted up from downstairs. You followed it, wondering if it was your friends while your stomach was growling with every step. Sure enough, in the kitchen, Giselle and Ningning were perched at the counter, drinks in hand and plates of food in front of them. They waved you over immediately.

“Finally! Thought we’d have to drag you out,” Giselle said with a grin, pushing a plate toward you. “Here.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, grabbing a fork and digging in without hesitation.

“Did you sleep well?” Ningning asked, eyes glimmering beautifully—like they always have.

“Totally. I was so tired. I took a shower and just passed out immediately,” you replied, sighing dramatically. Then the memory of meeting Yangyang in the bedroom suddenly flashed in your mind. “Wait. We’re sharing this villa with other people, right?”

Giselle nodded. “Yeah. It’s really big. It has eight bedrooms. You haven’t explored it yet, have you?”

As you shook your head, Ningning said, “Our housemates just left a few minutes ago, actually. Said they’re going out to sight-see.”

“You’ve met them?” you asked.

“Yes,” Giselle replied, placing a finger on her chin, thinking. “Let’s see, there’s Hendery, Xiaojun, and Yangyang. They’re tourists from China.”

“Did they say anything?” you pried, wondering if Yangyang told them what happened earlier.

“We just introduced ourselves. You know how it goes,” Giselle answered. “Why? Did something happen?”

“Nothing,” you lied, looking away. “Just… wondering what they’re like.”

“They’re pretty chill, from what I can tell. Didn’t really hang out much, though,” Ningning chimed in.

“Yeah, they didn’t stick around long enough to make an impression,” Giselle added. “But they’ll probably be back later. Speaking of impressions, you should hurry and get ready. We’re going out tonight.”

The nightlife in Aruba’s Palm Beach Area was everything you’d imagined and more.

As soon as you stepped into the vibrant strip of bars and clubs, the energy hit you like a wave. The streets were alive with music blaring out from every corner, and the air was filled with the chatter and laughter of tourists and locals alike. Neon lights glowed in every direction, illuminating clusters of people moving from one bar to the next, drinks in hand, their faces flushed with excitement.

The first bar was packed, with music thumping loudly and bodies pressed together on the dance floor. The drinks were just as colorful and varied as the crowd—fruity cocktails with little umbrellas, classic mojitos, daiquiris, frosty beer bottles dripping with condensation. They came fast—colorful and sweet, and the three of you hit the dance floor almost immediately. Giselle and Ningning moved like they owned the place, and before long, you found yourself swept up in the rhythm too.

Ningning didn’t waste time—by the time you’d finished your first drink, a tall guy with a cheeky grin was already glued to her side, following her every move. She seemed to enjoy the attention but kept him at arm’s length, toying with him like a cat with a mouse.

You and Giselle, meanwhile, owned the dance floor. The music vibrated through your chest, your limbs moving in sync with the rhythm as you lost yourself to the beat. The drinks flowed, cooling your throat and warming your veins, adding a carefree edge to your movements.

Men naturally began approaching you and your friends. It was a strange but refreshing difference from back home. In Aruba, every guy seemed more confident and considerate, striking up conversations or asking you to dance without hesitation. When turned down, they didn’t linger or sulk—they simply moved on to the next opportunity, unfazed.

By the time you hit the second bar, Ningning’s admirer was still trailing your group, determined to win her over despite her aloof attitude. You and Giselle exchanged amused glances as you ordered another round of drinks.

“It’s like a buffet,” she whispered to you, her eyes scanning the room as she sipped her martini. Her sharp gaze flickered over the men who glanced her way, assessing each one.

“Too tall,” she muttered after one man caught her eye. “Too short,” she said about another. 

While dancing, a third guy approached her, but he was gone within a minute. Giselle rejoined you with a wrinkled nose. “His perfume was making me dizzy.”

You both giggled, shoulders bumping.

“What about him?” you teased, gesturing toward a handsome guy by the bar. “You danced with him, right?”

She shook her head with a dramatic sigh. “Thick accent. Totally not it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as she dismissed each contender, whispering her sharp remarks to you before turning back to the dance floor. Giselle wasn’t just selective—she was a queen surveying her court, unbothered by anyone who didn’t meet her standards.

Meanwhile, you were simply enjoying the music and the atmosphere, dancing until your feet ached and declining the occasional offers to buy you drinks or join you on the floor.

Ningning found you and linked her arms with yours. You grinned, “Where’s your shadow?”

Ningning rolled her eyes. “Told him to leave me alone. I couldn’t stand him anymore.”

“Why? I think he was cute.”

“He is but—” she sighed— “his English is worse than my Spanish.”

You winced. “Yeah, that’s not gonna work.”

“Absolutely not.”

By the time you reached your fifth bar, the night was catching up to you. You slumped onto one of the stools of the tiki bar, grateful for the chance to sit after hours of dancing and wandering. Your friends were nowhere in sight, but you weren’t worried—they’d either found their own fun or were still tearing it up on the dance floor. For now, you just needed a moment to recharge.

“What can I get you, Miss?” asked the bartender, flashing a pretty smile at you. You smiled back, finding her bold red pixie cut and honey skin tone immensely attractive.

“I’m not sure,” you replied, unable to take your eyes away from her face. “What do you suggest?”

“Have you tried our signature cocktail?”

“Not yet, but you’re gorgeous so I’m gonna trust you. I’ll have one please.”

She chuckled lightly and her smile just made her even more alluring. “Your judgment is a little questionable, but alright.”

You scrunch your nose cutely, the alcohol making you less shy about acting cute in front of a stranger. As the bartender was making your drink, you took pictures and videos of the party around you, determined to collect as many remembrances of your first spring break trip as you could.

“It’s called Aruba Ariba,” the bartender said, placing the glass on the counter and pushing it gently toward you. “I’m surprised the previous bars didn’t give you one.”

“Well, this is the first time I asked for a recommendation. I like sticking to the drinks I’m already familiar with, so,” you replied, shrugging. “Thanks.”

You took a sip and let the flavors as well as the spice dance on your tongue before letting out a satisfied hum. “This is good.”

“Thank you,” the bartender replied, bringing a hand on her forehead as if she was tipping a hat in appreciation. She then moved to another customer who had just approached the other side of the bar. Meanwhile, you were happily enjoying your drink while scrolling through your phone.

“Mind if I join you?” A man had slid onto the stool next to you, flashing a grin that was meant to be charming but came off a little too practiced. Before you could answer, he flagged down the bartender and ordered himself a drink, then turned back to you.

“You look like you could use some company,” he said smoothly.

“I’m good, thanks,” you replied, keeping your tone polite but firm.

You expected him to leave, but he didn’t. “Aw, come on. It’s gonna be fun.”

“No, thank you.” You forced a small smile, hoping he’d move on, but he leaned in closer. He tried cracking jokes, tossing compliments your way, and making small talk that you weren’t interested in entertaining. When it became clear that your polite disinterest wasn’t working, you finally said, “I’m actually here with my boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah? Where is he?”

“He’s around,” you lied, looking toward the entrance as though expecting someone to walk through any second.

The guy smirked, clearly unconvinced. “You don’t have to lie. I can tell you’re not really with anyone.”

Before you could respond, the bartender stepped in. “Excuse me, sir, she said no. Leave her alone.”

But even that didn’t deter him. “Relax,” the guy said dismissively, waving off the bartender. “She’s just playing hard to get.”

You sighed, your patience running out, when suddenly an arm slid around your waist.

“There you are, honey,” a familiar voice drawled, soft but unmistakably amused.

Yangyang.

You turned your head just in time to see him leaning in, his free hand casually resting on the small of your back. “Sorry I took so long,” he said, before turning to the man beside you, the amusement in his eyes quickly cooling into something sharper. “Is this guy bothering you, sweetheart?”

The man blinked, caught off guard. “Are you with her?”

Yangyang tilted his head, giving a lopsided grin. “Of course, she’s my wife. We’re newlyweds, you know. Honeymoon and all that.”

The guy scoffed, still skeptical. “She’s been sitting here alone for a while. I thought she was lying about having company.”

Your patience snapped. “Shouldn’t you leave someone alone when they ask you to?”

The man waved you off, his tone growing defensive. “Women say ‘no’ all the time. You like being chased. You say no because you want to see if we’ll try harder.” He turned to Yangyang, as if expecting backup. “You know how they are, right?”

“Ah, why is a grown man barking like a dog?” Yangyang asked, looking bored, digging his ear with his pinky like he was trying to unblock it. “Even a dog’s bark is more pleasant than this.”

The man’s expression twisted. “What did you just say?”

Yangyang tilted his head slightly, his hand still resting casually on your waist. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say that out loud?” He smiled, the kind that could either charm or infuriate someone depending on the context. “I meant to say, why is a grown man yapping like a toy poodle? All bark, no bite—you know what I mean?”

You snickered before you could stop yourself, then covered your mouth and looked away. The harasser didn’t share your amusement. His face reddened, his ego clearly stung. “You’ve got a big mouth,” he spat, standing from his stool and squaring his shoulders.

Yangyang raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “And you’ve got a small brain. It makes sense though, seeing how you can’t seem to take a hint.”

The man’s hand curled into a fist, his body tensing as he lunged toward Yangyang. You gasped, but before he could get close, two figures appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Hendery’s voice cut through the tension. He stepped between the two, holding up his hands as if refereeing. “What do you think you’re doing, buddy?”

Xiaojun flanked him, his expression calm but his stance solid as he placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You don’t wanna do that,” he said evenly, his tone low but firm. “Not in here,” he added, nodding at the muscular, almost gigantic bouncers at the entrance of the bar.

The man glanced between them, his bravado faltering as he sized up the newcomers. Hendery’s casual grin didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Xiaojun’s calm demeanor carried an unspoken warning.

The man clenched his jaw, glaring at all three of them before finally backing down with a muttered curse. He grabbed his drink and stormed off, his pride clearly bruised.

“Was that really necessary?” Xiaojun asked, turning to Yangyang with a slight shake of his head.

Yangyang shrugged, a sly grin on his face. “He started it.”

Hendery clapped him on the back, chuckling. “You’ve got a real gift for getting under people’s skin.”

“Come on, now. If you ruffle my feathers like that, my head might get bigger,” Yangyang quipped, shooting them a playful wink before turning back to you. “You okay, honey?”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your heart still pounding from the confrontation. “Yeah but—” you took a deep breath— “Honeymoon? Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Yangyang shrugged, his grin returning. “Seemed like the easiest way to get rid of him. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You guess?” he teased, leaning just a little closer. “Wow, tough crowd.”

Shaking your head, you turned to Hendery and Xiaojun. “Thanks to you guys too.”

“Anytime,” Hendery smiled.

Xiaojun crossed his arms over his chest, studying your face. “We’ve been here for a day and Yangyang’s already married. Aruba really is something.”

Well, you can’t really argue with that.

At some point after the encounter with the creep, you were introduced to Hendery and Xiaojun, Yangyang’s friends. They stuck around at the bar, chatting over drinks and swapping stories. You learned that they were also on vacation from China and, like you, were incoming sophomores. Their easygoing vibe made it surprisingly easy to relax, even after the earlier drama.

“By the way,” Xiaojun said, eyeing you. “How do you guys know each other? We didn’t see you at the villa earlier.”

The memory of your mortifying first meeting with Yangyang made you roll your eyes. “You don’t wanna know.”

Hendery snickered, leaning on the bar. “It’s Yangyang, so he probably did something dumb and left a stupid impression.”

You exchanged glances with Yangyang, who gave you a knowing grin. Then he told his friends, “Let’s not talk about it, guys. Trust me—you really don’t want to know.”

Before you could respond, Giselle and Ningning appeared, weaving through the crowd with flushed faces and wide smiles. Giselle spotted you first and threw her arms in the air. “There you are! We’ve been looking for you!”

“Yeah!” Ningning added, her voice slightly breathless. “We found a place upstairs with amazing views. Where’d you disappear to?”

“She was busy fighting off creeps and getting married,” Hendery said before you could explain.

“Wait, what?” Giselle blinked, clearly taken aback. “Married?”

You rolled your eyes, heat rising to your cheeks. “This guy wouldn’t leave me alone, so Yangyang told him we were on a honeymoon to get rid of him.”

Giselle and Ningning exchanged amused glances before turning to Yangyang, grins tugging at their lips. “That’s kinda cute,” Ningning mused, her eyes sparkling. “Fake or not.”

“I see you’ve met our housemates,” Giselle said, nodding toward the guys with a warm smile.

The five of you chatted for a while before Giselle and Ningning eventually made their way back to the dance floor. Yangyang’s friends joined them.

“I’m not moving,” you declared, leaning back against the bar. “I’ve been walking and dancing all night. My legs are officially done.”

“Oh, come on,” Yangyang said, leaning closer with a mischievous grin. “I saved you. Doesn’t that earn me at least one dance?”

“Wow, so you’re holding that over my head now?”

“Absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat.

Yangyang headed for the dance floor, dragging you along. You opened your mouth to protest, but his grip was firm. Your legs felt like jelly, and the idea of moving even a little more was downright cruel. But Yangyang’s grin was so smug that resisting him suddenly felt like losing a challenge you hadn’t even agreed to. Against your better judgment, you let him lead you into the crowd.

Giselle and Ningning were pulling off ridiculous, exaggerated moves, laughing at themselves without a care in the world. Hendery, ever the show-off, attempted a wild spin that almost sent him crashing into a stranger, while Xiaojun kept it smooth and controlled, his steps simple but effortlessly cool.

Then there was Yangyang. He didn’t just dance—he owned the floor, his movements confident and effortlessly in sync with the beat. You hated to admit it, but he was good—like, really good.

At one point, he turned to you, holding out a hand. “Come on, Mrs. Liu Yangyang. Show me what you’ve got.”

You rolled your eyes but let him pull you into the fray. He spun you lightly, his grip steady but playful. Your initial reluctance faded with every step, and before you knew it, you were grinning and giggling.

Maybe it was the music, or maybe it was the way Yangyang’s friends treated you like you’d always been part of the group. Whatever it was, the tension you’d carried earlier had melted away, leaving behind only laughter and the steady rhythm of the night.

You woke up to the sharp rays of sunlight streaming through the window. Groaning, you rolled over—only to realize you weren’t even in bed. The floor was as unforgiving as it was unfamiliar, with a crumpled pillow under your head and a blanket twisted awkwardly around your legs like a makeshift cocoon.

Foggy memories of the night before flashed in your mind—the taxi ride, Giselle belting out the wrong lyrics to Dancing Queen, Ningning laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe, and your voice joining the chaos with something equally off-key.

Dragging yourself to your feet, you grabbed a towel and stumbled into the bathroom for a much-needed shower. Fifteen minutes later, feeling somewhat human, you headed downstairs on a hunt for food.

In the kitchen, Xiaojun stood at the stove, flipping a ladle like it was a microphone as he hummed a tune you didn’t recognize. “Morning,” he said without turning around.

“Morning,” you mumbled, sliding onto a stool by the counter. “That smell is fantastic. What is it?”

“Hangover cure,” he replied, grabbing a bowl and pouring soup in it. “Chinese-style. Trust me, you’ll thank me later,” he added, sliding the bowl toward you.

“Later?” you chuckled, accepting the spoon he handed you. “I’m thanking you right now. Thank you very much.”

“You’re very welcome,” Xiaojun said with a smile.

Not long after, Giselle and Ningning shuffled in, both looking like they’d been hit by a truck. Giselle flopped onto a chair with a groan. “Remind me why we thought mixing tequila and rum was a good idea.”

“Because we’re dumb,” Ningning replied, reaching for a glass of water. “Morning, guys.”

“Eat first, complain later,” Xiaojun said, sliding bowls of steaming soup across the counter.

Hendery appeared from the patio. “That smells fantastic!” he cheered, hurrying over to Xiaojun’s side and peering into the pot. “Is there more?”

“There’s enough for everybody,” replied Xiaojun, handing the ladle to Hendery so he could help himself.

The kitchen island was quiet for the first few minutes, with only the sound of the spoon against china and satisfied hums from everybody filling the silence. Xiaojun’s soup was phenomenal, and you couldn’t decide whether it was because you were hungry and hungover, or because he was simply an amazing cook.

After last night, there seemed to be an unspoken understanding between your group and the boys. For some reason—probably last night’s shenanigans—neither group seemed awkward with the other. It felt like you’d known each other for a long time despite only meeting yesterday. And it also felt like you were one big friend group on a vacation rather than two separate groups sharing the same villa. You liked it better this way.

You were halfway through your portion when Yangyang appeared, looking way too refreshed for someone who had been just as wild the night before. He plopped into the chair next to you, his grin as bright as the sun you wished would dim.

“So,” he began casually, resting his chin in his hand. “Have you made your decision?”

You blinked at him, not saying anything but giving him an inquiring look. He smirked. “You know, the thing we talked about last night.”

It took a moment for the fog in your brain to clear, but then it hit you—his ridiculous offer to ‘show you a good time’ while you were in Aruba, whatever that meant. You shook your head, suppressing a laugh.

“Pass.”

Yangyang feigned a look of heartbreak. “Ouch. Can’t you at least pretend to think about it?”

You shook your head again. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”

Across the table, Giselle and Ningning exchanged confused glances, but Yangyang only winked at them. “Inside joke,” he said smoothly, leaving it at that.

The rest of the day was a blur of sunshine and downtime. Everyone had their own thing going on. Some were catching up on sleep, the others were watching TV, while the rest were just enjoying the down time after last night’s activities. Yangyang, however, was relentless.

You’d found a quiet spot on the patio with a book in hand, ready to soak up the calm. But you were barely a chapter in when Yangyang appeared, sitting onto the bean bag next to you with a loud sigh.

“Perfect day to say yes, don’t you think?” he asked, his voice filled with exaggerated optimism.

“Say yes to what?” you said without looking up, feigning ignorance.

“Come on, honey,” he replied, taking a magazine from under the table. “You know what I’m talking about.”

You turned a page, ignoring him. Undaunted, he leaned closer. “You’re missing out, you know. I’m offering you the ultimate spring break experience. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I don’t know,” you said, finally glancing at him while he flipped through the pages of the magazine lazily. “Maybe you’ll turn out to be very terrible at it?”

He paused, meeting your gaze. “Oh, ho ho ho,” he chimed, mischief evident not just in his grin but in his tone. “The only way to find out is for you to try it for yourself.”

“Pass.”

What was so crazy about Yangyang’s offer? Nothing, to be honest. If anything, a hookup was basically part of a trip like this one. When you were planning the trip with Giselle and Ningning, you talked excitedly about beaches, island adventure, bar-hopping, and cute foreign boys. You might not have been as excited as they were to find a good-looking tourist who’d sweep you off your feet, but you half-expected to get cozy with one.

But it was different with Yangyang. Your first meeting was unconventional, and the way he casually asked you to be his ‘travel wifey’ was far from the whirlwind spring break romance you were imagining. So, it’s an absolute ‘no’.

You didn’t tell him any of this though, so he kept at it. Later, while you were swimming alone, enjoying the cool water against the heat of the afternoon sun, Yangyang showed up again. He stood at the edge of the pool, hands on his hips like some kind of self-proclaimed lifeguard.

“Still thinking it over?” he called out.

You swam to the edge, wiping water from your face as you looked up at him. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“What else could be better than trying to win over a pretty girl’s heart?” he admitted with a grin. 

“Wow, you’re persistent.”

He shrugged, “I’ve been told my persistence is part of my charm.”

You splashed water at him, but he dodged it with a laugh. “Keep playing hard to get, Mrs. Liu Yangyang. You’ll give in eventually.”

“Go away,” you shot back, though you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

That evening, after the sun dipped below the horizon, the group gathered in the living room for a round of card games. You had just beaten Hendery in a particularly competitive game when Yangyang slid into the seat next to you, carrying two glasses of some fruity cocktail. He handed one to you with a grin.

“Bribery,” he said.

“For what?” you asked, accepting the drink but eyeing him warily.

“For you-know-what. I figured I’d at least sweeten the deal,” he quipped.

Before you could reply, Giselle leaned over from across the table. “What deal?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, shooting a glare at Yangyang.

“Inside joke,” Yangyang said again with a wink, taking a sip of his drink.

He didn’t stop there, though. While you were distracted helping Ningning figure out the rules of the next game, he whispered, “I’ll even let you win at cards if you say yes.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the amused smirk that crept onto your face. “You haven’t even won one against me yet.”

He pointed finger guns at you. “That’s me letting you win,” he said, winking.

“You’re unbelievable,” you scoffed.

“And yet,” he replied, leaning back in his chair, “you can’t seem to ignore me.”

Yangyang was getting on your nerves. You could have shut him down for good, told him to leave you alone—but you didn’t. Maybe it was his ridiculous persistence, or the way his grin seemed to disarm you every time. Or maybe it was the infuriating fact that he wasn’t wrong—you couldn’t seem to ignore him. And somehow, you weren’t sure you wanted to.

“You are not barhopping again,” Karina groaned in envy while you were on FaceTime the next morning.

“No, we’re not,” Giselle replied, checking herself out in the mirror while you were helping her tie her bikini top.

“Not right now, anyway,” you added teasingly, grinning at Karina’s expense. She had wanted so badly to come with you, but she couldn’t because she had to go back to her hometown.

Ningning was in front of the vanity, putting on some makeup. “You really should have come. Aruba is a dream.”

You could hear Karina sigh dramatically on the other end of the phone. “Ugh, I swear, it’s like you guys are living in paradise without me. I really should’ve come.”

“Well, you were too busy being all responsible and going back home,” you chimed, joining Ningning by the vanity to look at yourself. “You’d have loved it. The beach, the sun... we loved it.”

Karina’s voice was laced with playful sarcasm. “Yeah, yeah, rub it in. I’ll be here, in my hometown, living my best life... not.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her dramatics, then turned to Giselle, who was now fiddling with the straps of her bikini top in front of the mirror. “You sure you don’t want to just rush over here last minute? We could all have the best time together.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Karina replied, but you could tell she was still slightly regretful. “Someone has to look out for you girls from here. I’ll just live vicariously through your snaps and photos.”

Ningning smirked. “We’ll make sure to flood your inbox with those so you really feel like you’re here.”

“Please don’t,” Karina said with a mock exasperated tone. “I’m already getting jealous just hearing about all the fun.”

Giselle adjusted her sunglasses, clearly amused. “You should have come, Karina. Aruba is everything you said it would be... plus a little extra.”

You caught her eye in the mirror, raising an eyebrow in her direction. Karina asked, “A little extra? What exactly does that mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Giselle said quickly, turning away with a grin. “Just, you know, the whole vacation vibe...”

“My girl is not still moping out there, is she?” Karina asked, feigning strictness. “She’s not still thinking about some nerd called Huang Renjun, is she?”

You gasped. “Excuse me? Say it to my face.” You pouted at Karina. “I’m having a really great time. Thank you very much.”

“That’s good then.”

You grabbed your sheer layer top and pulled it over your head. “Also, don’t make it sound so upsetting. Renjun and I are still friends.”

Giselle scoffed. “Girl, Renjun and you weren’t anything else but friends.”

You rolled your eyes, mocking her. “Whatever. It’s all in the past.”

“Pretty sure it was just three weeks ago,” Karina teased.

You sighed. “Are we gonna hit the beach or should we just sit here and talk about my failed romances?”

Fortunately, they stopped teasing you and finished getting ready. You bade Karina goodbye with a promise to show her pictures and have fun. After grabbing everything you needed, the three of you hurried downstairs.

Giselle flicked her hair over her shoulder and wore her sunglasses. “Alright, let’s go make some waves, ladies.”

As you walked toward the beach, the guys were already lounging on the sun beds lining up the shore. Hendery was sprawled across one, his legs dangling in the sun, while Xiaojun and Ningning had already gone off to the water’s edge. Yangyang, of course, was right where you expected him to be—leaning casually against the sun bed, watching you approach with an almost predatory glint in his eyes.

His voice reached you first, as always. “What took you so long?” he asked, a smirk forming on his lips. “Did you take your sweet time dolling up for me?”

You didn’t even flinch. “Do I know you?” 

Yangyang laughed, his grin widening. “Give me one chance and you will.”

You raised an eyebrow as you placed your towel on the bed next to his. “I guess since I’m in paradise, I can tolerate this much of a nuisance.”

He sat up and leaned forward to you, his eyes never leaving you. “We may be in paradise right now, but I know I could take it up a notch. Make it feel more like paradise,” he said, his tone far too smooth for your liking.

You crossed your arms, trying to keep the irritation from your voice. “Didn’t you almost get into a fist fight with someone who couldn’t take a hint?”

Yangyang shrugged, leaning back on the sun bed. “I still haven’t heard the one definitive answer, so, yeah. I’ll keep trying until you say it.”

“Say what, exactly?” you asked, genuinely puzzled because you were sure you’d been discouraging his advances. If that wasn’t enough for a hint, then what exactly does he need?

“You haven’t really said no yet,” he said, closing his eyes with a smug grin. “All you’ve done so far is evade and dodge.”

You scoffed but didn’t say anything.

“It’s a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’, my dear wife,” he added, humming. “If you can’t give it, that means you’re not done thinking about it yet. I could still make you give in to my charm.”

“You’re very optimistic, did you know that?”

“Yes. I’m very appreciative too,” he chuckled, glancing sideways at you. “I’ll show you just how much I can appreciate everything about you if you say ‘yes’ to me.”

You held his gaze, unwavering with a glint of mischief. You wanted to say ‘no’, it was the most logical answer. But you couldn’t utter the word.

“Suit yourself,” you huffed. With a playful roll of your eyes, you rose to your feet and headed to the water. You could hear him laughing as you walked away, but you weren’t going to let him get to you that easily. Still, the way his gaze followed you made your pulse quicken just a little. The beach was warm, the water cool and refreshing, these were things you could always count on in this paradise—along with Yangyang’s relentless pursuit.

You and your friends frolicked by the beach—swimming, taking pictures, enjoying citrusy drinks from the nearby tiki, and letting the salt and sun get soaked up by your skin. The boys were off in their own world, swimming ang fighting on the sand like school boys. At one point, Hendery roped you into a game of beach volleyball, sparking an intense competition between the girls and the boys.

You were winning the match, with your easy teamwork and general proficiency with the game itself. You won the first set and it looked like the second set was yours too, leading with a score of 22 against their 19.

The sand was warm under your feet as you and Ningning jogged into position, Giselle was already hyping up the team from the backline. Across the net, the boys were plotting their strategy with the seriousness of a championship game. Yangyang stood in the middle of their huddle, pointing and gesturing animatedly, while Hendery crouched low, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Are they actually strategizing?” Ningning asked, tying her hair into a high ponytail.

You shrugged, hiding your smirk. “Let them think they have a chance.”

Giselle clapped to get your attention. “Focus, ladies. They’ve got height, but we’ve got heart.”

“And skill,” Ningning added.

“Mostly skill,” you corrected with a grin.

The first serve was Yangyang’s, and he started with a smug grin as he launched the ball over the net. It was fast, but Giselle intercepted it with a smooth dig. You set it up for Ningning, who spiked it perfectly, narrowly avoiding Hendery’s desperate lunge.

“Point for the queens!” Ningning yelled, pumping her fist.

The boys groaned, and Hendery rolled dramatically in the sand. “I need a sub!” he cried.

“You are the sub,” Yangyang shot back, flicking sand at him.

The game continued with fierce determination on both sides. Hendery proved to be a surprisingly agile blocker, while Yangyang was quick on his feet, diving for saves and trash-talking at every opportunity.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he called out after Giselle narrowly missed a serve.

“Keep talking, Yangyang,” she shot back, adjusting her sunglasses. “It’ll make our victory even sweeter.”

Ningning served again, and the ball sailed high over the net. Yangyang jumped to spike it, but you were ready, blocking it with a well-timed jump.

“Boom!” you shouted as the ball hit the sand on their side.

Yangyang stared at you, mouth agape. “Where did that come from?”

“From the talent I was born with, where else?” you said with a wink.

As the match wore on, the stakes grew higher. The boys managed a few lucky points, but the girls maintained a narrow lead. The final play was an intense rally, with the ball going back and forth across the net.

“Come on!” Hendery shouted, diving to save a near-miss.

“Mine!” Ningning yelled, running to the backline.

Yangyang jumped for a spike, but you leapt just in time, blocking it again. The ball tipped off the edge of the net and landed on their side. Then you girls erupted in cheers, jumping and hugging each other as the boys slumped to the sand in defeat.

“Unbelievable,” Yangyang muttered, shaking his head.

“Victory tastes so sweet,” Ningning said, doing another celebratory spin.

Hendery flopped onto his back, covering his face with his arms. “I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

“Correct,” Giselle said, grinning. “Now, about that bet…”

Yangyang sighed, waving his hand lazily in the air. “Fine. Full-course barbecue it is.”

“Yes and we get to pick what we’re putting on the barbecue,” Giselle added.

Yangyang rose to his feet and jogged toward the sun bed where his bag was. When he came back, he was waving the card in the air. “Knock yourselves out. Just don’t max it out, yeah?”

“Fair enough,” Ningning said, snatching his card. “Let’s go shopping, Giselle. I’m craving scallops.”

Xiaojun offered to join them, saying he’d make sure they got everything needed for the barbecue party.

As the others drifted away, you stayed behind, enjoying the quiet hush of the waves and the cooling breeze. Yangyang plopped down onto the sand beside you, stretching out with an exaggerated sigh.

“Great game,” he said, his tone light. “Even if it was rigged.”

“Rigged?” you laughed, raising an eyebrow. “You lost fair and square.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, leaning back on his elbows. “But I bet you all practiced in secret. No way Hendery and I could lose.”

“I didn’t think you’d be such a sore loser,” you teased, shaking your head.

“And yet, here I am, still hanging out with the enemy.” He grinned, his hair ruffling in the breeze.

The tiki bar server approached with two drinks, setting them on the low table nearby. Yangyang reached for one and handed it to you, his smirk still firmly in place.

“To the victors,” he said, raising his glass.

You clinked yours against his, laughing. “And to the losers who get to do all the work.”

Yangyang chuckled, leaning back and taking a sip. “How long are you guys here for by the way?”

“Two weeks,” you replied, savoring the sweetness on your tongue.

“Really? We’re here for two weeks too.”

You scoffed. “Wow, we’re so unlucky.”

The conversation flowed from playful teasing to lighter topics—the best dishes you’d tried on the island, the funniest moments from the trip so far, and the weird tan line you pointed out on his shoulder.

Yangyang stretched his legs out in the sand, inspecting his shoulder. “You know, this tan line is going to be a conversation starter. ‘Hey Yangyang, what’s that weird patch on your arm?’ Oh, you know, just me being the MVP of a beach volleyball game. No big deal.”

You snorted. “MVP? You lost.”

“They don’t need those details,” he said, waving it off with a grin. “But seriously, I’m loving this trip so far. I just know I’m gonna miss this place once we go back to uni.”

“Are you a freshman?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

You shrugged. “I just assumed we were the same age, so…”

“You’re a freshman too?” he asked, glad to find something you had in common. “So, what are you studying? Something artsy, right?”

“Do I look like I’m studying something artsy?”

Yangyang leaned against the sun bed. “You don’t seem like the ‘numbers and spreadsheets’ kind of person. Figured you’d be one of those artsy types.”

“Well, I guess it counts since it’s Liberal Arts.”

“Which liberal art is it?”

“English,” you admitted, flattening your lips together, sheepish. “I know. Very basic.”

“Basic?” Yangyang tilted his head curiously. “I didn’t say that. I think it’s cool. English is interesting—grammar rules, stories, all that stuff.”

“Thanks, I think?” You took a sip from your glass. “I only picked it because I didn't really know what I wanted to do.”

Yangyang’s grin softened, his tone unusually thoughtful. “That’s fair. Not everyone knows right away. Sometimes, it’s better to explore than to lock yourself into something you’re not even sure about.”

You tilted your head, surprised by his response. “I guess so. But don’t you think it’s a bit lame? Everyone else seems to have a clear path, and I’m just figuring things out.”

He shook his head, his gaze shifting to the horizon. “I don’t think it’s lame. Most of the time, people stick to their clear paths because they’re scared of the unknown, not because it’s what they actually want.”

His words lingered in the air, carried by the gentle sea breeze. For a moment, you forgot the mischief in his smile and the teasing remarks. Yangyang, it seemed, could be more than just the guy who cracked jokes and flirted needlessly.

“Well, it happens,” you said, your voice quieter now. “You’re not so bad, you know,” you said, smiling at him.

“Only ‘not so bad’?” he asked, feigning offense.

“Don’t push your luck,” you quipped, but your tone was warm.

The space between you grew smaller as the conversation went on. You talked about anything and everything. During that, Yangyang’s shoulder brushed yours, his closeness oddly comforting. His laughter was contagious, and his gaze—bright and mischievous yet sincere—had a way of making you forget your initial impression of him.

“Are you laughing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” he said, clearing his throat. “I just didn’t think you’d do something like that.”

“What? Spend every passing day in the library just to see my crush?” you asked, making Yangyang chuckle.

“Yeah. I almost thought you were talking about someone else,” he laughed, his toothy Cheshire cat grin making you grin too. “That guy is lucky. He’s got you stalking him daily while I’m this close to getting on my knees just for an hour alone with you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, well, he’s nothing like you. You’re okay, but he’s on an entirely different wavelength. Now that I’ve thought about it, I realized we weren’t even compatible at all. He’s smart and knows exactly what he wants.”

“His loss,” Yangyang shrugged. “You’re probably too pretty for him anyway.”

“No,” you said briskly, shaking your hands. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen him. He’s way prettier. You have no idea,” you added, pressing your hands against your cheeks at the memory of Renjun’s beautiful smile.

Yangyang nudged your shoulder, making you glance up at him. “I don’t need to see him to know you’re prettier.”

The compliment caught you off guard, but before you could respond, you found yourself lost in his eyes. They crinkled slightly at the corners as he smiled, and there was something disarming about the way he looked at you—like he genuinely couldn’t see anything or anyone but you.

Yangyang winked and then looked away to break the silence. “You’ll find this hard to believe, but I used to spend a lot of time in the library too. Especially when it’s—”

“Yes.” The word slipped out before you could stop it, hanging between you like the weight of the moment.

Yangyang blinked, tilting his head. “Yes?”

You bit your lip, heat rising to your cheeks. “Yes,” you repeated softly.

His smile returned, slower and more genuine. “Finally,” he murmured, leaning in.

The world seemed to fade away as Yangyang’s lips met yours. The kiss was warm and light at first, but it quickly deepened, making your stomach flutter with butterflies you didn’t think you’d get from Yangyang. His hand found the back of your head, kissing you deeper as if he’d been waiting for it all this time.

When you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his grin as mischievous as always.

“See?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Told you I’d win you over.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he teased, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he pulled you into another kiss.

Ten minutes. That was how long you sat there making out with Yangyang by the beach. Maybe it was even longer than that, you weren’t sure, you just knew it was long long. You were both laughing and giggling over nonsense, and he wouldn’t stop teasing you about giving in to him after pushing him away several times. 

If it wasn’t for Giselle calling your phone and asking why you weren’t back in the villa yet, Yangyang would probably still have you locked in his arms on that sun bed.

“Scallops, wow,” you exclaimed, peering over Xiaojun’s shoulder while he was working the grill. “Beef too? How much did you guys spend?”

“Enough,” said Giselle, chuckling darkly at Yangyang who was standing next to you with his hands on his waist.

“Oh man, you didn’t just let them splurge, did you?” Yangyang asked Xiaojun who just shrugged.

“You did tell them to knock themselves out,” Xiaojun replied, grinning.

“Babe, come try this,” Ningning called out to you, waving a spoon in your direction.

You jogged toward the table, curious, but Yangyang followed closely behind.

“Did she just call you Babe?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as you reached for the drink Ningning was mixing.

Ningning shot him a look. “Listen here, Mr. Liu. I know you’re into my baby, but I’m the only one allowed to call her that. Let’s get that straight.”

You laughed, your cheeks warming. “Ning Yizhou, please. Stop it.”

But Ningning and Giselle exchanged glances, their mischief practically glowing.

“Oh, they’ve definitely hooked up,” Ningning said.

“Totally,” Giselle added, nodding with mock seriousness.

“What? No, we didn’t!” you protested, your voice an octave higher as you glanced at Yangyang.

Yangyang shrugged, looking entirely too smug. “Not yet. But we’ll get there.”

“Go away!” you huffed, shoving him playfully toward the grill.

The barbecue dinner continued with hearty laughter and the smoky scent of grilled food filling the air. Plates piled high with scallops, beef, and seafood skewers were passed around, everyone digging in and teasing each other between bites. Xiaojun manned the grill with expert ease, the sizzle of the food mixing with the sounds of playful banter from the group.

“Xiaojun,” Ningning said dramatically, pointing her fork at him. “If you don’t become a chef, the world will suffer.”

Xiaojun chuckled, flipping a skewer with a confident flick of his wrist. “Thanks for the pressure, but I think the world will survive without my scallops.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Giselle added, her voice mock-threatening.

Hendery, leaning back in his chair with a piece of grilled beef in hand, scoffed. “You’re all hyping him up too much. Watch him get cocky.”

Xiaojun rolled his eyes but grinned. “Just tell them you’re jealous.”

You found yourself laughing along with them, the whole evening filled with warmth and good company. The laughter seemed endless as you all shared stories, your plates refilled again and again, everyone thoroughly enjoying the meal and each other’s company. The tropical air was still, the night stretching comfortably ahead, like the perfect kind of pause before the whirlwind of activities you all had planned for the coming days.

As the evening wore on, the boys headed out to the bar as planned. Yangyang, as usual, did his best to persuade you to join them. “Come on, you really have to come. It won’t be the same without you.”

But you weren’t convinced. “You guys go ahead. We have plans tonight.”

Yangyang dramatically threw his head back, sighing as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Are you seriously just gonna let me mope out there by myself?” he complained, but the teasing glint in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t really upset.

You shook your head, laughing. “I think you’ll survive without me for one night,” you said, nudging him lightly. “Go have your fun.”

Once they were gone, you and the girls settled into the cozy confines of the villa for a quieter night. You poured yourselves some wine, the gentle music from Giselle’s playlist filling the space. It was a calm, slow evening, the perfect contrast to the hustle and bustle of the days ahead. The three of you sank into the couch, chatting and laughing, catching up on things you hadn’t had the chance to talk about during the day.

“This is exactly what I needed,” you sighed contentedly, sinking into the couch.

Ningning raised her glass, eyes twinkling. “Babe, you gotta give that guy a chance,” she said, her voice half teasing, half serious. “He’s so whipped. It’s pathetic at this point.”

You snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Pathetic? More like smug and overconfident,” you shot back.

“Exactly,” Ningning agreed, taking a sip of wine. “He’s trying to play it cool, but if you take that smug grin off his face, he’s just a massive simp worshipping your feet.”

You smirked, shaking your head. “You make him sound like some love-struck puppy.”

“Well, if the shoe fits,” Ningning teased, her lips curling into a sly grin.

Giselle rolled her eyes, but there was a softness to her expression. “You seem closer now, though? What happened back at the beach?” she asked, her gaze flickering between you and Ningning, clearly curious.

“We uh,” you paused, biting your lip at the memory of kissing Yangyang. “Nothing really. I gave him a chance. I mean, what do I have to lose? We’re in Aruba and Yangyang seemed like a really fun guy.”

“He is,” Giselle added with a nod, her eyes sparkling. “But not for me. I like it better when my options are open.”

Ningning raised an eyebrow at you. “That’s ‘cause you’re a slut,” she teased, giving Giselle a wicked grin.

Giselle blinked in surprise, then smirked. “Oh, I’m a slut? Which one of us was toying with some guy the other night only to send him back looking depressed and defeated? I’m a slut?”

Ningning’s eyes lit up, and she struck a playful pose, one hand on her hip, batting her eyelashes. “You and me both, Gigi. Let’s let this boring vanilla baby have her fun with her guy. We’re rocking this island,” she said, winking.

You laughed, feigning disgust, even though you were thoroughly entertained. “You guys are promiscuous,” you said, giving them a mock disapproving look.

Ningning tilted her head and flashed a confident grin. “You mean hot and fun?” she said, clearly proud of her carefree approach.

“Hot and fun,” you agreed, rolling your eyes but smiling. “And promiscuous.”

The conversation drifted from small talk to more meaningful topics, laughter occasionally erupting as the wine worked its magic. You all took turns talking about the things you were looking forward to most on this trip—the beaches, the hiking, the sightseeing, the endless opportunities to explore. Despite the excitement for the days ahead, there was something so refreshing about the peacefulness of tonight.

“I can’t believe we’re actually here,” Ningning said, looking around the villa, her wine glass cradled between both hands.

“I know, right?” Giselle added, swirling the wine in her glass. “It’s nice, though. We’ve got a packed schedule starting tomorrow, but I love this little downtime.”

You nodded, leaning back into the cushions, letting the peace of the moment sink in. “Exactly. I’m so excited for this trip.”

“We should probably get to bed soon,” Giselle said, glancing at her phone to check the time. The hike tomorrow would be an early one, and you wanted to be well-rested for it. “We’ve got an early morning.”

“You’re right,” Ningning replied with a sigh, stretching out her legs. “But this feels so nice, I don’t want it to end just yet.”

“I get that,” Giselle said, glancing at you two. “But I’m not about to regret a single minute of this trip by staying up too late.”

Eventually, the night wound down, and you all went to your separate rooms. You lay on your bed, your phone in hand, scrolling through your phone until you stumbled upon Xiaojun’s Instagram stories. His latest post showed him and Yangyang at the bar, Hendery beside them, clearly enjoying themselves. The music was loud in the background, the neon lights making everything look vibrant and alive.

You couldn’t help but smile, tapping through more clips. Yangyang, of course, looked like he was having the time of his life, though you remembered how much he’d pleaded with you to come. You thought it was sweet how much he’d wanted to hang out with you, though you knew he just wanted to bone.

“This guy is promiscuous too,” you muttered under your breath, grinning to yourself.

As you continued scrolling, the soft knocks on your door interrupted your thoughts. You froze for a second, unsure of what you’d heard. Then came the knock again, a little louder this time. You moved across the room in your barefoot, reaching for the doorknob. When you opened it, Yangyang stood there, his hair slightly tousled, his grin as effortless as ever.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorframe, his voice low and teasing.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re back so soon? I thought you’d be out until at least two.”

He shrugged, stepping a little closer. “Yeah, well, Giselle said we have to wake up early if we want to join the hike,” he replied, his tone light. “Can I come in?”

You hesitated for just a moment before stepping aside. “Don’t make yourself too comfortable,” you quipped.

Yangyang slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him. His gaze fixed on you, and before you could say another word, he pulled you into a loose hug, his arms wrapping around your waist. His nose brushed against your neck, and you felt his warm breath against your skin.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice muffled.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re just horny.”

Yangyang straightened up with an exaggerated look of shock and indignation on his face. “Wha—no, I’m��” He stopped mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open like he couldn’t believe you’d called him out so easily.

Crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow at him. “What? I know I’m right,” you said, your tone light but smug.

For a moment, he just stared at you, then threw his head back in laughter, the sound rich and unrestrained. “You’re so cute,” he said, stepping closer again, his grin turning wicked. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint, and you just knew he was up to something.

“Go away,” you said, turning your back to him with mock exasperation, though you didn’t really mean it.

“Aw. Don’t I get a kiss?” he asked, trailing behind you like an eager puppy as you headed back to your bed.

You stopped, spinning around to face him. “Just a kiss?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you perched on the edge of the bed.

Yangyang tilted his head, pretending to think it over. “Hmm… I was hoping we could do more than just kiss.”

“Goodnight,” you said with exaggerated finality, slipping under the sheets and yanking them over your head. “Lock the door on your way out.”

“Come on, honey,” he whined, tugging playfully at the edge of your blanket. “I’ve waited my whole life for this.”

Peeking out from the covers, you shot him a skeptical look. “We’ve known each other for three days.”

His grin only widened as if you’d just confirmed something he already knew. Without missing a beat, he climbed onto the bed and slid under the covers, settling beside you. His arm snaked beneath your head, pulling you closer until his warmth enveloped you completely.

“I’ll just sleep here then,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Is that okay?”

You sighed, taking a deep breath. The weight of his arm, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the way his presence seemed to fill the room all felt… unexpectedly comforting. Like slipping into a cozy jacket on a cold winter night, his warmth wrapped around you, lulling you to sleep.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your eyes fluttered shut. “It’s okay.”

You woke slowly, feeling the steady rise and fall of someone’s chest behind you. A weight rested lightly around your waist, warm and solid—Yangyang’s arm.

Oh. Right.

Your eyes fluttered open as memories of the night before came into focus—his teasing grin, the way he’d wriggled under your covers, and how his arms felt annoyingly comforting as you both drifted off. It was nice. Waking up with his warmth beside you was just as nice.

What you didn’t expect was the firm, unmistakable pressure against your lower back.

You froze, your half-asleep mind trying to convince you it was not what it felt like. But the more you became aware of it, the harder it was to deny.

Oh my God. That’s… definitely his...

Your face burned as you tried to wriggle away without waking him, but the movement only made you graze it. Yangyang stirred, letting out a soft, sleepy groan. Then his arm tightened, pulling you back against him—and the problem.

“Don’t move,” he rasped into your ear, his voice hoarse with sleep.

“Yangyang—”

“Shh. Please,” he mumbled, his arm tightening around your waist. “Just give me a second to, uh… recalibrate.”

You bit your lip, both mortified and fighting the urge to laugh. But then his grip on your waist loosened, his fingers brushing against the thin fabric of your shirt. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and suddenly, you weren’t so sure you wanted to pull away anymore.

“Sorry about that,” he said, chuckling lightly. “Happens all the time.”

You turned your head slightly, catching the hint of vulnerability in his sleepy, lopsided smile. It was disarming, even in a moment like this. Or maybe especially in a moment like this.

“Must be hard for you,” you quipped, smirking because you were low-key proud of the pun.

His grin widened. “Very hard. Do you like it?”

“You wish.”

His hand on your waist slid up—testing, gauging your reaction. You didn’t pull away—instead, your fingers instinctively curled into the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. His touch grew bolder, tracing the curve of your hip and slipping under the hem of your shirt.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his breath warm against your neck.

Your heart hammered in your chest. This was ridiculous. Insane. And yet, every nerve in your body screamed at you to lean into it, to see where this would go. You’d spent the past few days brushing off his advances, telling yourself he was nothing more than a fun distraction. But at this moment, with the morning light casting soft shadows across the room, it felt like the only thing you wanted was him.

A long pause stretched between you, your eyes locked in a quiet conversation as you let the tension envelope the air around you. And then, biting your lip shyly—

“…Yes,” you whispered.

That was all the invitation he needed. Yangyang shifted, turning you on your back so he could hover over you. His eyes met yours, searching for any hesitation, but all he found was curiosity and anticipation. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, exploratory kiss.

The kiss started slow, tentative, as if he were testing the waters. But when your hands slid into his hair, pulling him closer, all restraint fell away. He kissed you deeply, passionately, and every nerve in your body lit up like a firework.

Your mind was a blur, a tangle of disbelief and desire. How had you gone from playfully bickering with him to this? His touch, his warmth, the way he seemed to savor every second—it was almost too much, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

“You sure about this?” he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

“Yes,” you said, breathless. “Yes.”

Yangyang chuckled softly, his tone both teasing and serious. “Just checking. I won’t be able to stop once I start, so no take-backs halfway.”

“Oh my god, Yangyang,” you huffed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “You’re ruining the mood. Just—come here.”

He pressed his hips against yours, and you gasped softly at the hard evidence of his desire. The sound seemed to spur him on and just as his hand trailed down the waistband of your pajamas, a loud knock echoed through the room, startling you both.

“Wake up, babe! Gigi said we’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” Ningning’s voice called out from the other side of the door.

Your heart raced for a different reason now as Yangyang groaned, burying his face in your shoulder.

“Seriously?” he muttered, his voice dripping with frustration.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your cheeks flushing as you gently pushed him back. “We should probably get up now.”

Yangyang shook his head, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone. “Nope. I’m not going anywhere.”

Another knock followed, more insistent this time. “Babe! Are you still sleeping?”

“No! I’ll be out in a bit!” you called back, your voice a little too high-pitched.

“Okay! Breakfast is ready!” Ningning replied before her footsteps faded away.

Yangyang sighed dramatically, flopping onto his back. “Fifteen minutes? Think we can use five minutes and—”

“And ruin our first time?” you smirked, shaking your head. “I don’t think so.”

You rose to your feet, heading toward the bathroom, but Yangyang caught your waist mid-step, pulling you back on the bed and the sudden tug made you yelp.

“What do you mean our first time?” he asked, trailing kisses on your jaw down to your neck. “Are you looking forward to this?”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “Gosh, I hate feeding your ego so much.”

“Come on, wifey. Honesty is the foundation of every marriage,” he quipped, flashing his signature grin.

“We’re not married,” you shot back, pushing him off with a laugh. “Now go get ready. I don’t think they know you’re here, and it’s better that way. My friends are way too interested in my affairs right now.”

Yangyang gave a mock pout. “You’re kicking me out now? After everything we’ve been through?”

“Yangyang, I swear—”

“Okay, okay!” He held his hands up in mock surrender, slipping out of bed and wrapping you in one last hug. “I’ll see you at breakfast, honey.”

“Just go.”

As he left, you caught your reflection in the mirror, your flushed cheeks and wide smile revealing just how much his presence affected you. With a deep breath, you headed to the bathroom, already bracing yourself for the days to come.

The Aruba sun was relentless, its heat bouncing off every surface and making even the thought of hiking unbearable. You and your friends gathered in front of a small station offering ATV rentals, a fortunate backup plan Giselle had arranged in case of unexpected situations like weather extremes.

“I thought we were going on a hike?” Hendery asked, squinting at the information board.

“It’s too hot for a hike right now,” Xiaojun replied, fanning himself with a brochure. “So we’re going there on ATVs instead. Same view, less sweat.”

You stood beside Yangyang, his arm draped loosely around your waist as he scanned the crowd of tourists. The weight of his hand was comforting, familiar, and yet it still sent tiny sparks through you.

Glancing up, you noticed the tan line on his shoulder. “Did you put on sunscreen?” you asked, nudging him lightly.

Yangyang glanced down, momentarily caught off guard by the question. “Hmm? Yeah. I think I did.”

“You think?” you teased, chuckling. “Did you even bring one?”

“No. I did. My mom made sure I packed it before we left. She’s very thorough about this stuff.”

“Your mom did?” you repeated, your grin widening. “She’s very thoughtful.”

He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “She nagged me a lot before the trip, though. She packed this entire bag of skincare, some fancy oil thing, and bug bite ointment. You should see it. The bag’s probably bigger than your pouch of skin stuff.”

You laughed, imagining it. “That explains why your skin’s so nice. She really knew what she was doing.”

“Do I have nice skin?” he asked, genuinely surprised. He touched his cheek as if testing the claim. “Huh. I didn’t realize.”

His lips suddenly quirked into a grin, and he leaned a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Have you been checking me out?”

Heat rushed to your face, and you quickly looked away, pretending to check on your friends. “Don’t get cocky. I was just being polite.”

“Sure, sure,” he teased, his hand squeezing your waist lightly. “I’m flattered either way.”

After securing your ATV tickets, the rental staff organized everyone into pairs. The sun blazed overhead, but the excitement in the air was enough to make you forget about the heat for a while. Your friends paired up immediately, and it came almost naturally for you to get paired with Yangyang.

It wasn’t even a discussion—he had claimed you before anyone could suggest otherwise.

While the group waited for instructions, Xiaojun laughed as he wiped sweat off his brow. “You girls really saved us on this trip,” he said, glancing at Giselle. “If it were just us, we’d probably be bar hopping every night and getting tanned all day.”

“And endlessly complaining about how there’s nothing to do too,” Hendery added with a grin.

Yangyang smirked, sliding his arm casually around your waist. “Speak for yourself. I was fully prepared to wing it.”

“You? Please,” Xiaojun shot back. “If you were in charge, we’d all be passed out on the beach right now.”

“Well, good thing you’ve got us,” Giselle chimed in. “I told you my itinerary wouldn’t let you down.”

“It’s a blessing in disguise,” Yangyang admitted, his fingers tracing small circles on your hip as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your cheeks warmed under his touch, though you tried to act unfazed. “So, what you’re saying is, without us, you’d have no idea what you’re doing?”

Yangyang grinned down at you. “Exactly. What would I have done without you, my darling wife?”

You elbowed him lightly, trying not to laugh. “Don’t push it.”

As the staff explained the rules and safety precautions, Yangyang didn’t bother hiding how drawn he was to you. His hand shifted from your waist to your shoulder, and occasionally he leaned in close to comment on something random, like the mismatched helmets or a particularly enthusiastic tourist who was already revving their ATV.

Your friends noticed, of course. Ningning raised her eyebrows at you, a sly smile tugging at her lips, while Giselle gave you a look that screamed I’ll ask you about this later. But to your relief, they didn’t tease you outright. Instead, they exchanged knowing glances and carried on as if everything was perfectly normal.

The staff finally directed everyone to their vehicles, and Yangyang beckoned you over so he could put the helmet on you. “I’m driving so you better hold on tight.”

“Oh, so I don’t even get a say?” you teased, watching him focus on the buckle of the helmet.

“Do you want to drive?” he asked just as he finished with his task.

“No,” you replied without missing a beat. “But I still would’ve preferred it if you asked for my opinion.”

Yangyang chuckled. “You’re adorable. Alright, next time, I’ll ask you first,” he said, getting onto the ATV. You followed after him.

“Can I trust you?”

“Absolutely. Just make sure to hold on tight,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“Okay. Don’t get us killed.”

“Trust me,” he said, revving the engine. “I got you.”

The ATV lurched forward, and you tighten your grip instinctively, your laughter getting carried away by the warm breeze. You could feel Yangyang’s chest shaking with his own laughter as he expertly navigated the bumpy trail.

The ride to Conchi—Aruba’s famed natural pool—was as exhilarating as it was nerve-wracking. Yangyang seemed to live for the bumpy, uneven trails, pushing the ATV to its limits as you clung to him for dear life. Every sharp turn or sudden drop earned a loud squeal from you, and each time, he’d throw his head back and laugh like it was the best sound he’d ever heard.

“You okay back there, honey?” he called over the roar of the engine, glancing over his shoulder.

 “If I fall off, I’m haunting you!” you shouted back, tightening your grip around his waist. “Keep your eyes forward! Oh my god!”

“Sorry. I’ll drive slower,” he teased, though he didn’t ease up on the speed at all.

By the time you reached Conchi, your legs were shaky from gripping the ATV, but the sight in front of you quickly made you forget the rough ride. The natural pool sparkled under the sun, its turquoise waters framed by black volcanic rocks. Tourists crowded the area, snapping photos and dipping into the clear, refreshing water. It was a postcard-perfect scene, breathtaking enough to make you forget the heat and the crowd.

“Wow,” you breathed, hopping off the ATV.

Yangyang joined you, his hand instinctively finding the small of your back. “Not bad, huh?”

“Not bad?” You glanced at him, a grin spreading across your face. “It’s incredible.”

He leaned in closer, his lips just brushing your ear. “Told you I’d take you somewhere cool.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, you planned this whole thing,” you deadpanned, only playfully.

“Am I the best tour guide ever?” he asked, his grin shamelessly cocky.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

The group split up as everyone wandered toward the water. Yangyang stayed glued to your side, his hand occasionally brushing yours as the two of you navigated the rocky path. When you slipped on a particularly uneven surface, he caught you immediately, his arm circling your waist.

“Careful,” he said, his tone softer now. “These rocks are sharp. Can’t have you getting hurt.”

You steadied yourself, his proximity making your heart do a weird little flip. “Thanks. Didn’t realize I brought my personal lifeguard.”

“Full service,” he quipped, winking at you. “Wait till you see my swimming skills.”

Down by the pool, Yangyang took off his shirt, revealing his toned, sun-kissed torso. You tried not to stare—tried really hard—but he caught you anyway, smirking like he’d just won something against you.

“See something you like?” he teased, tossing his shirt onto a rock.

You scoffed, though your cheeks burned. “Not at all,” you said, looking away.

“Uh-huh.” He stepped closer, leaning in as if to whisper a secret. “Don’t worry, honey. You can look all you want. It’s all yours.”

Before you could respond, he dove into the water, his laughter echoing behind him. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile as you slipped off your sandals and joined him.

The water was cool and refreshing, a perfect escape from the blazing sun. Yangyang was everywhere—helping you find footing on the slippery rocks, playfully splashing water at you, and floating close enough that his arm would occasionally brush yours.

At one point, he swam up behind you, his hands gently resting on your hips as you stood by a shallow edge. “Having fun?”

You turned to face him, water dripping from his hair and running down his face. “Would be a lot more fun if you weren’t here,” you replied, but you didn’t mean any word.

“Aw, I know you don’t mean that, honey. Your cheeks will soon ache because you’re smiling too much,” he teased, poking your cheek.

You rolled your eyes, pushing a hand against his chest to create some space. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But Yangyang didn’t budge. Instead, he caught your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours under the water. His expression softened, his playful smirk giving way to something more genuine.

“Thanks for letting us come,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “I like being here with you.”

You scoffed, masking the flutter in your heart with an aloof attitude. “As you should.”

The moment lingered, charged and electric. His fingers brushed yours again, sending a shiver up your spine. His eyes flicked down to your lips, and before you could stop yourself, you were leaning closer. The sounds of the pool faded, and all that existed was the warmth of his gaze and the soft rush of the water around you.

Just as your lips were about to meet, Giselle’s voice cut through the moment.

“Yangyang! Quit hogging my girlfriend and come take a picture!”

Yangyang groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I swear, they’re like children.”

You laughed, tugging him toward the group. “Come on.”

As you two joined the others, cracking jokes and striking ridiculous poses for the camera, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of anticipation. Yangyang was unpredictable and a little reckless, but he made you feel like the center of his world.

And, for now, you were perfectly okay with that.

The rest of your Aruba trip unfolded like a colorful dream, a whirlwind of laughter, sun-soaked adventures, and moments that made your heart skip.

You zipped across rocky trails and sandy paths on the ATVs, the wind whipping through your hair as Yangyang stayed close behind, calling out dramatic warnings like, “Don’t fall off, honey—I’m not carrying you!” 

His teasing only earned him a shower of sand as you sped ahead, his laughter echoing in the semi-desert terrain.

At the Butterfly Farm, he pretended to be afraid of the delicate creatures, flinching exaggeratedly every time one landed on him. “What if it’s poisonous?” he whispered, eyes wide with mock horror. You laughed so hard you nearly scared off the butterflies, but you couldn’t help snapping a picture of him with one perched on his shoulder.

Everyone was having a blast, until the first week passed and Yangyang realized that Giselle’s itinerary left no room for boredom—or rest. Mornings started early, with breakfast by the pool where he would dramatically yawn and stretch, groaning about how Giselle was running the group like a boot camp.

“Can’t we just have one lazy day?” he complained, his head resting on your shoulder as you sipped your coffee.

“Nope,” you replied, amused. “We’re on Giselle’s schedule now. Resistance is futile.” 

He sighed, but the glint in his eye told you he wasn’t really upset. “Do we really need to see everything Aruba has to offer?” he asked, mock-serious. “Maybe I just want to lie on the beach and gaze into your eyes.”

“Okay, lover boy,” Giselle teased, standing up. “Get up and get ready to leave.”

“Come on, Yangyang. Think of it as building stamina,” Hendery said, patting Yangyang on the back.

“For what?” he asked, grinning wickedly.

“For you-know-what?” Hendery grinned, standing up after wiggling his eyebrows knowingly.

Yangyang, still grinning, glanced at you with expectant eyes. You rolled your eyes and said, “Bye.” Then walked away before he could say anything.

Each day blended into the next, packed with scenic drives, swimming and visits to historical landmarks. Through it all, Yangyang was a constant presence—sometimes exasperated by the pace, but always finding ways to make you laugh. Whether it was by stealing bites of your food, pointing out oddly shaped rocks and giving them names, or spinning you around on the sand just to hear you squeal, he managed to make every moment unforgettable.

It was chaotic, exhausting, and utterly perfect in its own way. And even as Yangyang grumbled about Giselle’s tight itinerary, you could tell he was enjoying every second—especially the ones he spent with you.

The evenings in Giselle’s schedule were reserved for beach bonfires, sunset sails, or dancing under the stars at local beach bars. That particular night, the group had taken over a corner of a lively beachfront bar, its warm glow spilling out onto the sand where tiki torches lined the perimeter.

Yangyang stayed glued to your side as usual, his hand casually resting on the small of your back or tangling with yours as you both sipped on fruity cocktails. His presence was magnetic, and no matter how crowded the bar became, you found yourself instinctively gravitating toward him.

The live band struck up a slow, sultry tune, and without hesitation, Yangyang set his drink down, pulling you gently toward the sand where couples were swaying under the open sky.

“What are you doing?” you asked, laughing as he spun you once before pulling you in close.

“Making my move,” he said with a grin, his hands settling comfortably on your waist. “Can’t let this song go to waste.”

You rolled your eyes but let him guide you, your arms loosely wrapping around his shoulders. The music was soft, and Yangyang hummed along, his head dipping slightly to meet your gaze. For a while, you just danced, his thumbs brushing against your hips in lazy circles. His face was so close, his eyes locked on yours like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. You tried to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest, the way your heart skipped a beat every time he moved closer.

Then he leaned in for a kiss—a soft one, long, unmoving, but it left a lingering warmth after he pulled away.

“When do I get you all to myself?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

The heat that rushed to your face wasn’t entirely from the tropical air. “You’re with me now, aren’t you?” you teased, trying to keep your voice light.

“Yeah,” he said, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as he pulled you closer, your bodies barely a breath apart. “But not like this. I want real alone time.”

“You’re just horny,” you replied, masking the flutter in your chest with a laugh. 

As special as he made you feel, you couldn’t let yourself forget why you were here with him in the first place. You didn’t want to blur the line between a romantic connection and what this really was—a spring break fling. He was just a travel perk, a handsome one but still temporary. You didn’t do relationships in a place where everything was temporary, and everyone was just passing through.

“You’ll survive,” you added.

Yangyang groaned dramatically, his head dropping back in mock defeat. “You’re ruthless, you know that?”

“Oh, I do,” you shot back, grabbing his hand to lead him toward the others who were gathered by the bonfire, roasting marshmallows and laughing at Hendery’s attempts to play guitar.

As you both rejoined the group, Yangyang kept his hand intertwined with yours. Despite the banter, the tension from your moment on the dance floor lingered, charging the air between you. You focused on the laughter with your friends, on the drinks being passed around, and the warmth of company and friendship. It was easier than thinking about how you and Yangyang could have something deeper.

“Who’s that?” you asked Giselle, pointing at the guy sitting next to Ningning across from you.

“Ningning met him at the kayak yesterday. I’m not sure if they agreed to meet here or if it was a coincidence,” Giselle explained, leaning closer to you. “They look cute together though, right?”

“That’s what I was thinking! He’s so cute. Ningning has been smiling from ear to ear all night,” you giggled, genuinely giddy for your friend, but it was easier to focus on them than the thoughts tugging at the back of your mind.

It was easier to smile and laugh about Ningning’s new interest than think about Yangyang. You didn’t want to admit it, but a part of you felt that same giddy feeling whenever Yangyang smiled at you, or when he touched you in ways that felt a little too intentional.

The night went on, stretching until late. A few hours later, as the fire crackled and someone started an impromptu sing-along, Yangyang leaned over, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“For the record,” he said, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips, “I’ll survive, but don’t think I’m giving up that easily.”

You shook your head, laughing softly, but his words stayed with you, lingering in the air. “Didn’t think you would.”

The morning started with high energy, the group gathering at the dock for your scheduled snorkeling trip. Giselle confidently led the way, tablet in hand. You’d been teasing her about her ‘vacation CEO’ vibes all week, but you secretly admired how smoothly everything had gone—until now.

“Name on the reservation?” the staff member asked, not even glancing up as they scrolled through their tablet.

“Giselle Uchinaga,” she replied with her usual crisp efficiency.

A frown crept onto the staff member’s face. “Hmm, I don’t see a Giselle Uchinaga here.”

Giselle’s expression faltered, but she recovered quickly. “Oh, I booked this weeks ago. Check again, please.”

You exchanged looks with Ningning, while Yangyang leaned lazily against the booth, clearly more entertained than concerned. After a tense back-and-forth, it turned out there’d been a mix-up—the tour company had double-booked, and there were no more spots available for the day.

The mix-up left Giselle fuming, her carefully planned itinerary crumbling right before her eyes. As she argued with the dock staff about overbooking policies, Yangyang stood off to the side, a lazy grin plastered on his face like he’d been waiting for this moment all week.

“This is a disaster,” Giselle groaned, throwing her hands up. “They don’t even have a backup option for us.”

“It’s okay. We can just go to the beach or something,” you said, offering an alternative.

“This was supposed to be the highlight of the trip!” Giselle shot back, shrugging off his hand.

You patted her back. “I know. We were excited for it too, but maybe we can try again tomorrow?”

“What about today?” Ningning asked and you shrugged.

Yangyang strode over to your side, still grinning. “How about this—we ditch the whole plan and do something way cooler?”

“Like what?” you asked, arms crossed but already sensing he was about to suggest something outrageous.

He didn’t answer, instead, he turned to Xiaojun and Hendery. “Bros, I think it’s time to do what we came here to do.”

Hendery’s face lit up. “Oh, you mean… that?” he asked, bouncing on his feet with excitement.

Xiaojun, on the other hand, appeared to be deep in thought, shaking his head. “No. I don’t think the girls would like that.”

“What is it?” Giselle prompted, looking a little impatient.

“Is it better than snorkeling?” Ningning asked.

Yangyang grinned wider. “Way better. Trust me, you’re gonna love it. And if you don’t, well… I’m used to being unappreciated.” He turned to the group, clapping his hands together. “Alright, troops, let’s roll. I know just the thing to turn this day around.”

“Is it dangerous?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Only if you’re boring,” he shot back, winking at you.

That should’ve been your first clue.

Twenty minutes later, you stood on a pristine stretch of beach, the waves glittering under the midday sun. Kite-surfers were on the water, their colorful kites soaring against the bright blue sky as they glided across the surface. One of them caught a gust of wind and launched into the air, soaring for a brief moment before landing gracefully back on the waves.

“This is your plan?” you asked, incredulous.

“Yup.” Yangyang looked impossibly pleased with himself, his hands on his hips like he’d just unveiled the eighth wonder of the world.

“Kite-surfing?” Giselle asked, her voice tight. “There’s a reason we didn’t put that in the itinerary.”

“Because you’re scared,” Yangyang teased. “I get it. Kites are terrifying. I cried the first time I saw one too.”

“I’m serious,” Giselle sighed.

“I know. Look, we’ve been following your schedule all week,” Yangyang told her, pausing to raise a palm. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fun schedule, you totally nailed it! But a little chaos never killed anyone—well, maybe a few people, but we’re smart, right?”

“You could’ve at least warned us,” Giselle said, her tone teetering between exasperation and resignation.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Hendery chimed in, clearly in on the plan. He and Xiaojun were already chatting with the rental staff, signing waivers like this was just another day.

“This is insane,” Ningning muttered, her eyes wide with both fear and excitement. “We have to do this.”

You, however, weren’t so sure. Your eyes kept drifting to the surfers, the way the kites pulled them with such force. The idea of being at the mercy of the unpredictable wind, with the water rushing beneath you, felt more terrifying than exhilarating.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you muttered under your breath.

Yangyang turned to you, his expression softening. “Hey, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I think you definitely should.”

The crash course was a whirlwind of instructions and laughter. Hendery and Ningning were naturals, picking up the basics quickly and cheering each other on as they stumbled through their first attempts. Giselle grumbled her way through the setup but eventually got the hang of it, her competitive streak kicking in as she chased after the others.

Meanwhile, you struggled. The kite seemed to have a mind of its own, jerking wildly in the wind as you gripped the control bar with desperation. And Yangyang, naturally, picked it up like he’d been born to do it, showing off with spins and whoops that made you want to strangle him.

“Relax!” Yangyang called out from his board, effortlessly gliding past you. “You’re overthinking it!”

“Easy for you to say!” you shouted back, the kite yanking you forward before dumping you unceremoniously into the water.

Yangyang paddled over on his board, laughing so hard he nearly fell off. “You good, honey?”

“I hate you,” you muttered, pushing wet hair out of your face.

“No, you don’t,” he said, his grin infuriatingly charming. “Come on, let’s try again.”

The next attempt was better. The kite tugged gently, and instead of fighting it, you let yourself lean into the motion, trusting the wind to guide you. Your board skimmed across the water, the salty breeze whipping against your face as exhilaration replaced fear.

“I’m doing it!” you shouted, laughing uncontrollably as Yangyang cheered from nearby. Your other friends saw you doing it and started cheering for you too.

The thrill was addictive. With each pass, you grew more confident, your movements smoother and more deliberate. The water sparkled under the sun, and for a moment, you felt completely weightless, like you could conquer anything.

Back on the beach, you collapsed onto the sand, your legs shaky but your heart soaring. Yangyang dropped down beside you, his hair dripping and his grin smug as ever.

“See? You’re a natural,” he said, nudging your shoulder.

“Natural?” you scoffed. “I fell, like, ten times!”

“Yeah and everyone saw that,” he teased. “It’s okay, I still like you.”

The rest of the group gathered around, swapping stories of near-misses and minor victories, their laughter echoing across the beach. As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, you realized this chaotic, unplanned day had turned out to be the highlight of the trip after all. You couldn’t help but glance at Yangyang. Despite his chaotic energy, there was something comforting about having him there, cheering you on and pushing you out of your comfort zone.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, nudging his arm.

He turned to you, surprised. “For what?”

“For, you know,” you said, gesturing to the ocean. “For making me try this.”

He smiled, a rare, genuine softness in his expression. “Aw. You’re welcome, honey. What would you have done without me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes but didn't argue. You were sure you would've been fine without him, that you didn't need him to turn the day around. But now that it has come to this, you knew you wouldn't have it any other way.

As the sun began to descend, the sky glowed pink and orange, taking your breaths away with its magnificence. You didn’t pass up the chance to take pictures—lots of it. Everybody gathered by the beach, still in your rashguards, to commemorate the day.

Yangyang was an enthusiastic photographer, directing your poses and finding you the best spots by the shoreline. He complimented you the whole time to make you feel more confident. But after a while, the attention became a little embarrassing, especially when tourists walked by, giving you curious looks.

“Don’t look at them. Look at me,” Yangyang called out one more time, kneeling on the sand with one leg stretched out as he held your phone up. 

“That’s enough!” you whined, walking toward him and grabbing your phone. You scrolled through the pictures, skimming through them just to see the angle. 

“The lighting is really good,” Yangyang said, peering over your shoulder. “You look like a model, you know?”

“Thanks, although, you probably say that to everyone,” you teased, shaking your head.

“Nope, only the truly photogenic,” he said, smirking as he put on his sunglasses. “Which, clearly, you are.”

You laughed, stepping closer to him. “Well then, thank you. Come on. Let’s take one together.” You wrapped a hand around his arm, and he immediately grinned, his eyes lighting up.

“You sure about that?” he teased. “You don’t want me stealing the spotlight?”

“I think we both know you’re already doing that,” you shot back, your voice playful. “Now smile.”

Yangyang struck a dramatic pose, his chin tilted up and his sunglasses crooked in the most ridiculous way. “How’s this?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Perfect,” you said, snapping the picture.

Yangyang leaned in, peeking at the photo. “You’re lucky I look good in every shot. Makes you look better too.”

“Uh-huh, sure, Yangyang. Keep telling yourself that,” you teased, nudging his side.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just speaking facts.”

After getting dressed, the boys rounded everyone up with mischievous grins and promises of an unforgettable evening. Hendery called it, “Phase two of Operation Best Day Ever.”

“Phase two?” Giselle raised an eyebrow, grinning playfully. “Let me guess—something equally chaotic?”

“Not at all,” Yangyang replied, feigning offense. “This is the sophisticated portion of the day.”

You smirked. “Define ‘sophisticated.’”

Yangyang just waved for everyone to follow, refusing to spoil the surprise. The walk along the beach led to a dock where yachts of all sizes bobbed gently on the water. Their sleek hulls gleamed in the soft evening light, and your eyes widened at the sight.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you said, stopping in your tracks.

“You guys booked a yacht?” Ningning gasped, squeezing your arm tighter.

Yangyang turned around, his grin as wide as the horizon. “Not just any yacht. This baby is our ride for the night.” He pointed toward a mid-sized vessel docked at the far end. It wasn’t the most extravagant yacht in the lineup, but it was undeniably impressive—its polished deck and elegant design exuded understated luxury.

“If you don’t know it yet, Liu Yangyang is rich,” Hendery quipped, slinging an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “See? Just casually throwing around yacht reservations like it’s nothing.”

Yangyang laughed, shaking him off. “If I were rich, we’d be on that one.” He gestured to a towering superyacht nearby, complete with a helipad. “But hey, this one’s cozy. We’ll call it charmingly attainable.”

“Charming,” Xiaojun echoed.

Onboard, you were greeted by the soft strains of instrumental jazz playing through the yacht’s speakers and a crew who ushered you to the deck, where a long table was set up for dinner. White linens and flickering candles added an air of elegance, and the faint scent of sea breeze mingled with hints of garlic and rosemary wafting from the kitchen.

“I have to admit,” Giselle said as she took her seat, “this is actually impressive.”

Yangyang shot her a triumphant look. “Told you. Sophisticated.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” she replied, rolling her eyes playfully.

The first course arrived—a delicate seafood bisque served with freshly baked rolls. Hendery immediately dipped his bread into the soup, groaning with exaggerated delight. “This is what I imagine heaven tastes like.”

“Can you not sound like you’ve never had good food before?” Ningning teased, delicately spooning her bisque.

Hendery shrugged. “What can I say? I’m easily impressed.”

The banter flowed as smoothly as the wine being poured, laughter and stories filling the gaps between courses. You found yourself leaning back in your chair, soaking in the moment. The soft glow of the candlelight reflected off the water, and the gentle rocking of the yacht made everything feel dreamlike.

By the time the main course arrived—a perfectly grilled steak for some, fresh seared tuna for others—the group had reached peak comfort. Even Xiaojun, normally reserved around you girls, launched into a surprisingly hilarious story about his disastrous first attempt at surfing.

“So there I was,” he said, gesturing wildly, “upside down, tangled in the leash, and the instructor is just yelling, ‘You’re doing great!’ with his thumbs up.”

Everyone burst out laughing, Hendery nearly choking on his drink.

As dessert was served, the crew dimmed the lights on the deck, allowing you to enjoy the starry night. The sky was a vast expanse of shimmering constellations, the kind you never saw from the city.

“This really is the best day ever,” Ningning said softly, leaning against the railing.

Yangyang grinned at her. “You heard that, guys? Best day ever!” he called to the others, who cheered in response.

You wandered to the edge of the deck, letting the gentle night breeze brush against your skin. Yangyang joined you a moment later, holding two glasses of wine.

“For you,” he said, handing one over with a wink.

“Thanks.” You took a sip, glancing at him. “Okay, I have to admit—today was pretty incredible.”

He leaned against the railing beside you, his smile softening as he looked out over the water. “Glad you think so. But, uh, it’s not over yet.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? What’s next?”

Yangyang’s grin widened. “Fireworks,” he said, pointing toward the open water with an exaggerated flourish.

You held your breath, anticipation winning over your skepticism. But after two or three minutes of nothing, you couldn’t help but glare at him. “You were lying.”

Yangyang burst out laughing, throwing his head back and stepping away as if to dodge your fist. He caught your hand instead, gently unfolding your fist and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Sorry,” he said, his eyes warm and sincere. “This was last minute, so I couldn’t arrange the fireworks.”

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “No, don’t be sorry. Today was amazing. I was only a tiny bit disappointed because I thought there really were fireworks. Doesn’t mean you didn’t do well today.”

Yangyang chuckled and leaned closer. “Well, I might not have fireworks, but I can promise the rest of the night will be just as memorable.”

You shot him a teasing look. “Oh, really? What else do you have up your sleeve?”

“Nothing really. But I’m hoping for a miracle that would let me have my most-awaited alone time with you,” he replied, not even trying to hide his intentions.

You chuckled, but before you could say anything, Ningning gasped loudly, making everyone turn to her. She froze for a second, hand over her mouth as she looked at each of you.

“Why, what happened?” Giselle asked, looking concerned.

Ningning moved her hand from her mouth to her chest and revealed an excited grin. “Who’s up for a yacht party?”

Andre, the guy Ningning met when you went kayaking a few days ago, happened to be at the same pier as your group were. He had invited Ningning to his yacht party and told her to bring her friends. You’d met him several times, even hung out with him when he would join your group at the bars. You didn’t think he’d have his own yacht though, or that he’d invite you out there for his party.

“I mean, who could say no to a yacht party?” Xiaojun grinned, nudging the others.

“Right?” Ningning said, bouncing on her heels. “So, who’s in?”

The group erupted into enthusiastic chatter, all of them agreeing to go. You, however, found yourself suddenly feeling very tired, the events of the day catching up to you.

“Guys,” you said with a soft yawn. “I think I’m just gonna head back first. I’m a bit exhausted from all the kite-surfing earlier.”

“What? No,” Ningning said, shaking her head. “We can’t just leave you alone.”

“It’s okay. I’m passing up on this one too,” Yangyang said, casually putting a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll stay with her.”

Everyone exchanged knowing glances and smirks.

“Of course, Yangyang,” Giselle teased. “You stay with the tired one while the rest of us live it up on the yacht.” She raised an eyebrow playfully. “How romantic.”

The rest followed up with hoots and whistles.

Yangyang waved them off. “Alright, guys, don’t make it weird. We’re just keeping things chill for the night.”

“Oh sure,” Ningning added with a mischievous grin. “Just you two and a night full of... conversations, right?”

“Conversations!” Hendery affirmed, while Xiaojun was nodding beside him.

You laughed, feeling the teasing warmth of your friends, but the idea of a quiet night with Yangyang wasn’t bad at all. It felt surprisingly nice to have some space to just relax after an eventful day.

“Alright, alright,” Giselle said, finally getting the group moving. “We’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Get some rest and have fun!”

You and Yangyang exchanged a glance, both of you shaking your heads with amused smiles as the others filed off the yacht to join Andre at the pier.

Once they were gone, Yangyang settled next to you again, his smile soft and content. “I guess it’s just us now.”

“Yeah,” you said, feeling a wave of comfort. “Just us.”

“Good,” he said, leaning back against the railing. “I can think of worse ways to spend the night.”

And with that, the two of you simply enjoyed the peace of the night, the quiet after the excitement, and the company of one another.

With your friends gone, the yacht was suddenly quiet, the sounds of the water lapping against the hull and the occasional creak of the boat being the only background noise. The dim lights above cast a soft glow on the deck, creating a tranquil, almost intimate ambiance.

You and Yangyang stood there, side by side, the space between you two comfortable. You were scrolling through your phone’s gallery, examining the pictures you took all day, deleting the ones you didn’t like and saving the rest.

Yangyang took a slow sip from his glass of wine, his eyes glinting mischievously as he studied you. “How many photos did you end up taking today? I lost count,” he said, his lips curling up into a teasing smile.

You raised an eyebrow at him, playing along. “Being pretty in a beautiful place like Aruba comes with a responsibility, Mr. Liu Yangyang. I’ve got to take the pictures. If I don’t I’d be letting everyone down.”

Yangyang chuckled, stepping closer to you, his gaze flicking over your face as if he was taking mental snapshots of his own. “Yeah, well, you’re too gorgeous. One would think I’m just part of the background in your photos,” he teased, glancing down at his own clothes as if evaluating his outfit.

“Yes, well, I’m sure you’re honored. You’re welcome,” you chimed, eyes back on your phone. “Do you wanna take a picture right now?”

“Why?”

You glanced at him, shrugging. “Just because. Memories.”

Yangyang paused for a second, his eyes darkening as if he was considering something else entirely before he reached out, gently taking your phone from your hand. His touch lingered for a moment, a spark that you both seemed to feel, but he quickly turned back to the view, lifting the phone as if it were nothing more than a prop.

“Fine, but you better not blame me if you end up swooning at how good we look together,” he said, his voice light as he pulled you by the waist so you’re pressed side by side.

You rolled your eyes again, but it was clear you were enjoying this. “You’re so full of yourself,” you teased, leaning against his chest and smiling at the camera. Yangyang pressed the button, capturing a shot of you two with the ocean in the background.

“Here,” he said, handing the phone back to you. “Don’t fall in love with me. I know your camera roll is full of pictures of me and you.”

You checked the picture, sighing. “I would have loved taking pictures at the yacht party with my girls too.”

“Didn’t you say you were tired?”

You sighed, locking your screen and facing him. “Yes. Kitesurfing was such an exercise. I just want to lie down right now. When are we going back to the villa?”

Yangyang tilted his head. “Oh, I… uh. I was actually gonna ask if you want to stay the night. You see, I booked this thing until tomorrow morning because I thought everyone would be hanging out here until late.”

“Seriously?” you asked, looking around the wide and empty deck. “We can’t let it go to waste then.”

Yangyang’s gaze dropped briefly, shamelessly checking you out. “You know, we can make the most of it... if you’re up for it.”

You looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow. “Seriously, don’t you get tired of it?”

He groaned, stomping his feet as he buried his face on your neck. “This is the first time I’m alone with you in days. Honey, please.”

You chuckled, feeling his warmth against your skin. “Wow, desperation looks good on you,” you teased.

Yangyang lifted his head. “Desperate? Yes, I’m very desperate.” His eyes flickered down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “It’s really hard to be patient when you’re always so beautiful and sexy.”

You felt a rush of heat spread through you, but you forced yourself to stay casual. “You say that to all the girls?”

He wrapped her arms around your waist, tugging you closer. “Not all of them,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your ear. “Only you.”

You swallowed. “You really think I’m gonna fall for that?”

Yangyang’s expression softened as he reached out, gently cupping your face with one hand. “I figured you won’t. You never fall for any of my tricks.”

You stared at him, completely aware of his intentions but you did not share his eagerness. “Yangyang, shouldn’t you set the mood first if you really want this?”

“Of course. It’s not that hard. Here, let me show you.” Before you could process anything, his lips were on yours—slow and deep, tasting like wine and something more, something raw. 

The kiss deepened, and the warmth of his lips on yours ignited something in you, a heat that you were very familiar with. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, pressing your bodies together. You responded eagerly, your hands finding his chest, fingers curling into his shirt as you kissed him back, the pressure building with every second. His kiss was insistent, hungry, and you could feel the tension between you both heightening, like a spark just waiting to catch.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling that same pull you had all day, but now stronger, undeniable. “Then show me,” you challenged.

He didn’t need any more instructions. His hands moved to your back, gently urging you toward the cabin door as his lips found yours again. The playful mood from earlier had given way to something much more intense, the teasing now replaced by need.

The yacht swayed gently, setting a calm rhythm, but inside the cabin, everything was on the verge of unraveling. The lights were dim and warm, casting a yellowish glow on the walls as you stood by the bed. Yangyang took his time watching you, his lips curling into a slow, almost predatory smile when you finally met his eyes.

“Do you always stare this much?” you teased, your voice low.

“Only when I know what I want,” he replied, stepping closer.

Yangyang’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer so he could rub your hip against his aching manhood. You tried not to gasp or show just how much your skin was tingling to be touched by him. You curled your hand on his shirt, tugging it twice, urging him to take it off. He took it off just as quickly, before wrapping his arms around your smaller frame and crashing his lips into yours.

Your hands wandered, taking your time to explore his body with featherlight touches. He shuddered under your fingers when you skimmed over the muscles of his abdomen until you reached the hardness between his thighs. The slight hitch in his breath ignited something wicked inside you, something that made you smirk.

“You’re not playing fair,” he murmured, his lips curving against your neck before trailing lower.

You didn’t get the chance to respond because his hands quickly slipped under your dress, fingers tracing the bare skin of your thighs with a touch that was both reverent and infuriatingly slow. Your knees threatened to buckle when his hands found your sex, sending warmth all over your body.

When his fingers pressed and moved, your head fell back, and a soft moan escaped your lips. He kissed his way down your collarbone, lingering on the sensitive spot between your shoulder and neck. Your fingers dug into his back when he sucked a mark in your skin, and the moan that you let out only spurred him on.

Yangyang hooked his finger on the strap of your dress, letting it slip off of your shoulders. Then he buried his face between them, taking a long sniff while tightening his embrace. He tilted his head back releasing a satisfied sigh before looking into your eyes.

“My dear wife,” he began, tugging on the other strap of your dress and letting it fall. “I won’t be able to stop. So if you think you’re gonna regret this, we can end it here and pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I won’t,” you breathed, running your fingers on his neck down to his chest. “I just know that I won’t regret it.”

“Are you sure?” he asked softly, his voice low and filled with meaning.

You answered with a kiss—hungry, unrelenting. It wasn’t soft or tentative; it was a claim, and Yangyang surrendered without hesitation.

He responded fiercely, competing with your hunger, as if the mere act of touching you wasn’t enough. You moved together, falling onto the bed, and the soft sheets were cool against your heated skin. When he pulled away from you, you panicked for a second, only to scoff when you saw him pull out a condom from his pocket.

“You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” you asked, rolling your eyes playfully as he tore the packet open. Your eyes followed his every move, and the view before you made you bite your lip in anticipation.

Yangyang chuckled seeing your reaction. “I didn’t. But I’ve been carrying one every day since the day you said yes to me.”

“Oh, so you’re always prepared?”

He shrugged, sporting a smug grin as he lowered himself, one hand reaching down to spread the slick that had gathered in your cunt. “You never know when the opportunity might arise.”

He kissed you again, a feeble attempt to distract you from what was happening down below. But it was no use, a guttural moan tore out of your lips as soon as he pushed himself inside, your back arching. Yangyang planted soft kisses on your neck and jaw, shushing you gently.

“You’ve got it. I know you do,” he whispered against your skin.

You got used to the stretch soon enough, and Yangyang watched your face carefully as he rocked inside you in a steady rhythm. Whenever he thrust deeper, your body would arch instinctively, and you’d let out a whimper, the sensation blurring your mind and blooming like fire through your veins.  It wasn’t just the physicality of his touch—it was the way it seemed to unravel you, as though he knew every nerve, every secret, and was intent on exploring them all.

He swallowed your moans with a kiss that only made you more feral. You responded in kind, legs wrapping around his waist, and hands threading through his hair and pulling just enough to make him groan against your mouth. Every thrust of his hips and every movement of lips evoked sensations that left you gasping and clinging to him.

The world outside faded—there was no yacht, no ocean, no stars. Only the two of you, lost in the raw intensity of each other. The bed rocked beneath you, a rhythm that seemed to echo your movements, slow and steady at first, then building, relentless and unstoppable. You were wild with need, and Yangyang was almost animalistic with the desire to unravel you, to watch you lose your mind in pleasure.

“Yangyang,” you whined, knees on your chest as he stretched you out some more.

Your movements grew more erratic and urgent. Each touch, each kiss, each whispered name built upon the last, until you were both trembling on the edge of something immense and unstoppable.

And when you finally collapsed together, your bodies tangled and your breaths ragged, the tension in the room slowly dissolved into something quieter, softer. When your eyes met, you didn’t say anything and just breathed in sync. Then after a few moments, you two burst out laughing, seemingly at a loss for words.

“You are… incredible,” Yangyang exhaled, reaching for your hand and bringing it to his lips.

“I know,” you quipped, giggling.

You rested your head against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat soothing the wild rhythm of yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, letting the gentle lull of the yacht carry you back to reality.

“I could stay like this forever,” you murmured, your voice soft, almost drowsy.

Yangyang chuckled slowly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’d make me a very happy man.”

Your smile was small but genuine, and you closed your eyes. There was no way this would last forever, but there was no point in dwelling on it. All you could do, and all you wanted to do, was to enjoy it while you still can.

The next few days unfolded like a whirlwind of adventure and adrenaline. By day, the group embraced the thrill of risky adventures. Cliff diving back in Conchi left your heart pounding, your squeals of hesitation turning into triumphant laughter when you finally took the plunge. Dune buggy rides through golden sands turned into wild competitions, Yangyang and Hendery competing to see who could kick up the biggest trail of dust, their boisterous energy infecting the rest of you.

Evenings were just as lively. Barbecue dinners became the highlight of the villa, the scent of grilled meat and vegetables wafting through the air as everyone pitched in. Hendery, the self-proclaimed grill master, charred the skewers more often than not, while Yangyang kept spirits high with his antics, attempting acrobatic flips with the food—earning him laughter and scoldings at the same time.

When the drinks came out, the nights grew rowdier. Card games devolved into noisy competitions, while Truth or Dare exposed embarrassing stories and hidden crushes. Laughter echoed through the villa as the group let loose, cherishing the carefree charm of this trip. But amid the chaos, there were moments when you and Yangyang slipped away, unnoticed—or perhaps ignored—by the others.

It didn’t take much—a glance, a whisper, or the casual brush of his hand against yours. Upstairs, the bedroom became your retreat from your chaotic friends. The air in those stolen moments were heavier, hotter, more intense. Yangyang’s teasing confidence would melt into something more fervent and more passionate as he shut the door behind you and closed the space between you.

The way he’d kiss you—slow, deep, and unhurried—never failed to make your head spiral. His hands would find your waist, tugging you closer as if you weren’t already pressed against each other’s bodies. The laughter you shared downstairs would transform into soft whispers, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck as you tilted your head back, letting him take his time.

“Damn, you’re so beautiful,” he would murmur, his voice low and thick with affection. His words would hang in the air between kisses, and though his tone carried his usual cheekiness, there was a softness there that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t expected.

You didn’t always make it to the bed right away. There were nights when the edge of the dresser became your perch, your legs wrapping around his waist as his fingers dug into your skin. Your gasps would be hushed, and your need would be urgent, and Yangyang’s eyes would be boring into you, observing your reactions and memorizing your cues.

During the day, the intimacy didn’t vanish entirely, though it was more playful than physical. You were always attached to the hip, and would sometimes wander off by yourselves. On one lazy day when your group decided to skip going out and just lounge around the villa, you and Yangyang stayed by the poolside, enjoying the sun and the quiet.

You were reading a book on the sunbed, occasionally flipping pages, while Yangyang played a game on his phone. It didn’t last long—he soon got tired of it and squeezed himself next to you, tugging your arm until he could rest his head there. He curled up beside you, his arms loosely wrapped around your torso.

You put your book down and rested your hand on his head, absently running your fingers through his hair. “Are you bored?” you asked, smiling as he groaned and nodded his head dramatically.

“Are you a puppy? Why are you acting like one?”

Yangyang laughed softly, his shoulders rocking, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he tightened his hold on you, his face pressed into your side. You continued running your fingers through his hair—dark, messy, and had a faint minty smell. Your eyes fell on a faint scar on his elbow, curiosity sparking again.

“What happened to this?” you asked, your thumb gently brushing the scar.

“Hmm?” He glanced lazily at his arm. “Oh, it’s a surgery scar. Got it when I was a teenager after a basketball injury.”

“You played basketball?”

“Yes. I loved basketball.”

“Did you dream of becoming a pro?”

Yangyang shook his head, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips. “No. I dreamed of becoming a racer. Cars fascinated me more than courts.”

“So what happened?”

“Life had other plans,” he said with a shrug, his fingers drawing absentminded circles on your side. “My mom thinks racing equals instant death. Basketball? My knee begged me to stop. And now, here I am, working toward a business degree like a good boy.”

“Would you change anything?” you asked, cringing internally at how cliché the question sounded. But you wanted to know.

“Not really,” he said after a pause, his lips quirking up. “My grandma always said, ‘If something’s yours, it’ll come back around. Even if it falls out of your hand and rolls under the couch.’ So I just let life take its course. It’s a trip, and I’m just cruising.”

“Wow,” you said, your grin matching his. “That’s surprisingly wise.”

Yangyang smirked. “Well, my gran was very wise. She’s old now though and always asks if I’m on drugs or something.”

“Are you?” you asked, your voice light and teasing.

He grimaced. “She’s the one on drugs with all those maintenance pills she keeps popping every day.”

“You sound like a really fun guy,” you chuckled, pressing your cheek on his head. “I mean, I knew you were fun. I’m just surprised you could get more fun than you already are.”

“You’re so good at getting to know people.” Yangyang lifted his head slightly, his lips brushing against your shoulder as his gaze met yours. “Wanna go upstairs and get to know me better?” he murmured, his voice low and playful.

You flicked his forehead lightly, laughing. “That’s a hard no.”

“Wow, do you hate it that much?” he asked indignantly, and you just giggled.

There was something about the way he fit into your space—or maybe how you fit into his—that felt natural, like you’d been orbiting each other longer than just a few days. Your connection had deepened, unwittingly so, in the stolen silences and the shared laughter, in the way your walls had crumbled without you even noticing.

And yet, somewhere in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but feel the faintest hint of unease—like a reminder that this was a story with an ending. But you brushed it all off. For now, the sun was warm, the breeze carried the faint scent of the sea, and Yangyang was nestled against you, warm and snug.

The last three days passed in a blur. The energy had softened—fewer high-energy activities, more slow hours and gathering in the living room. Time seemed to slow down as the vacation drew to a close. The laughter was still there, of course, but it held some kind of weight, like everyone was trying to make each second count before the inevitable goodbye.

Yangyang and the boys still found ways to keep things lively. During the day, he joked around more than ever, teasing everyone relentlessly, especially you. Yet at night, when the group dispersed to their corners, it was just the two of you again—by the pool, on the patio, or simply sitting together in the dim glow of the villa’s lanterns.

That night, you found him leaning against the patio railing, his silhouette outlined by the faint light of the moon. He didn’t turn when you joined him, but his arm instinctively curled around your waist, pulling you closer.

“It’s going to be weird going back to normal,” you murmured, the thought slipping out before you could stop it.

Yangyang didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed somewhere distant. “Yeah. No sun, no ocean... no crazy adventures,” he said lightly, his grip on you tightening a little. “No you.”

You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I know I’m unforgettable, but you’ll survive, right?”

He chuckled lightly, and he finally looked at you. “Come on, be honest. You’re gonna miss me way more than I’ll miss you, won’t you?”

You feigned offense, placing a hand dramatically on your chest. “Excuse me? I’ve been the highlight of your Aruba experience. You be honest.”

“Highlight?” He arched a brow, his smirk widening. “I don’t know. The kite-surfing was pretty epic. The barbecue nights? Top-tier.”

“Okay, but who made those barbecue nights top-tier? Me. I’m the one who kept you from burning the villa down.”

“Fair point,” he admitted with a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “But you still owe me for losing that paddleboarding race.”

You gave him a look. “Liu Yangyang, we’ve been over this. You cheated. I was literally halfway to victory when you—”

“—skillfully redirected the board. Totally fair game,” he interrupted, grinning like the devil himself.

“Cheater,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“In my dictionary, it’s called, strategy.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. Then, like an unwelcome guest, a sudden thought struck you: what’s gonna happen in the morning?

Yangyang shifted, turning to rest his chin on your shoulder. “What’s wrong? Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?”

“Just conserving energy,” you replied lightly, nudging him with your elbow.

He hummed, unconvinced, but didn’t push. Instead, he started recounting some ridiculous story about the time he got stuck in a hammock and somehow managed to flip himself into a kiddie pool. His voice was animated, his gestures over the top, and you laughed until your stomach hurt, taking your mind off of things for a while.

That night, you shared the bed with him again, curled close like it was the only place you were meant to be. When you weren’t kissing, you talked about everything and nothing—the kind of conversation that stretched lazily through the hours. Neither of you dared to bring up what came next, but it hung in the air, unspoken yet understood. You could feel it in the way his hand lingered a little longer in your hair, in how tightly he held you when you finally gave in to sleep.

Morning came too soon.

The villa felt different, quieter, like it was holding its breath. Bags lined the hallway, and everyone moved with some kind of heaviness. Your friends hovered in the kitchen, trying to keep the mood light with jokes, but the laughter didn’t carry the same carefree weight it had days before. They talked about how Aruba was beautiful and that they wish to come back soon, how they were gonna miss the time you’d all spent together, and how everyone should keep in touch.

Yangyang, for once, was quiet, fiddling with his camera as he sat on the couch.

When you found a moment alone with him, the easy chit-chat that had carried you through the week felt harder to summon. Still, he gave you that signature smirk. “So? Did I or did I not keep my promise?”

“What promise?”

“That I’d show you a great time and make Aruba more memorable for you.”

“Barely,” you teased, though your voice wavered just enough to give you away.

He leaned in, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Guess I’ll have to step it up next time,” he said, his tone light, even if his eyes lingered on yours for a moment too long.

You managed to smile, but the ache in your chest only deepened. There was no next time—not one you could count on, anyway. And as the villa was filled with the echoes of your friends’ chatter and laughter, you sat there and stared at Yangyang, memorizing the details of his face, his voice, and the way he made you feel.

The goodbye would come, as they always did. But for now, you let the moment stretch, hoping it might last just a little longer.

The first day back in uni was always vibrant and energetic, with students darting across the quad, groups reuniting after the break, and the faint hum of music playing from someone’s portable speaker. You spotted flyers littering every wall, announcing everything from club fairs to house parties, the vibrance was nearly overwhelming after the lazy warmth of Aruba.

You adjusted the strap of your bag, glancing over at Giselle, who seemed unusually quiet as the two of you navigated through the crowd. “Thinking about Ningning?” you asked knowingly.

She sighed, kicking a stray leaf across the path. “Yeah. Feels weird without her. I wish she didn’t have to move.”

“She’ll visit,” you said, more confident than you felt. “And you can always crash at her place. It’s not like she’s on the other side of the world.”

“I guess,” Giselle muttered, but the corners of her mouth lifted slightly at the thought.

The two of you walked into the cafe and spotted Karina and Jaemin at a table by the window, their cups of iced coffees already halfway gone. Karina waved so enthusiastically it was a wonder she didn’t topple over, while Jaemin sat beside her, his arms crossed and a lazy grin on his face.

“Finally!” Karina exclaimed, throwing her arms around you and Giselle as if it had been months instead of weeks since you’d last seen each other. “Tell me everything! I want the drama, the chaos, the juicy stuff.”

“Relax, we just got here,” you laughed, patting her on the back.

Jaemin smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Wow, and here I thought you’d squeezed everything out of them over FaceTime?”

“Quiet, Jaemin,” Karina shot back, but her grin didn’t falter. “Did Aruba live up to the hype? Don’t leave anything out.”

You hesitated, your mind wandering back to late nights on the patio, the sound of Yangyang’s laughter, the weight of his arm slung comfortably over your shoulder. 

“It was incredible,” Giselle exclaimed before you could say anything.

The four of you talked about Aruba, the breathtaking beaches, the chaos of group outings, and Giselle’s over-the-top retelling of Ningning’s escapades. You also caught up on the little things—new professors, gossip about campus life, and the inevitable groans about upcoming assignments. It was like nothing had changed at all, like your time in Aruba was a fever dream and you were getting pulled back into the real world right now. Giselle’s accounts of everything you did and experienced on that beautiful island was proof that it happened though, as well as the pictures you took every day while you were there.

“Wow. Ningning is so pretty,” Karina commented while you were showing them pictures on your phone. “I can’t believe she left.”

Giselle sighed dramatically. “Ugh, I wish she didn’t have to move. Our group’s so scattered now.”

As Karina nodded in agreement, Jaemin swiped to the next photo. “Wait, who’s that?” he asked, pointing at the screen.

Your heart jumped—Yangyang’s grin stared back at you, sunlit and easy. Before anyone could look closer, you snatched your phone.

“No one,” you deadpanned, hiding your screen and sticking your tongue out playfully.

Jaemin chimed teasingly. “Did you get a boyfriend in Aruba?”

Giselle chuckled knowingly. “Oh, she got more than just a boyfriend. She got a husband in Aruba.”

“A husband?” Jaemin exclaimed.

You giggled. “Sorry you couldn’t come to the wedding,” you teased. “It was super exclusive.”

Giselle threw her head back laughing. “More like, sorry you couldn’t come to Aruba. It was for fun people only,” she added, shrugging playfully.

“Hey. Aruba was last minute. If you’d planned it ahead of time, I wouldn’t have agreed to go with my family to Korea!”

While your friends bickered, you glanced outside and saw the campus moving on around you like it always did. Yet, something felt different—like you’d stepped into a new chapter, leaving a part of yourself behind on a sandy beach far away.

“What are you doing?” Karina prompted, peering into your screen.

“Sending an entry to Campus Confessions,” you said, holding your screen just out of reach.

She blinked. “You follow that page?”

“No. I just submit entries,” you replied, showing her after you hit send.

To: LYY We found wonderland. You and I got lost in it, and we pretended it could last forever. -xx

Karina tilted her head. “Wait, does he even know what Campus Confessions is?”

You shrugged, slipping your phone into your pocket. “He doesn’t need to.”

You put your phone away, focusing back on your friends, their chatter pulling you into the rhythm of the moment. There was plenty to say about Aruba, but some memories? Those were yours to keep.

[fin]

[vhstown]

hobie brown x you headcanons

— hobie x gn!reader (established relationship)

warnings: brief mentions of violence (?) + politics (just his own), fluff

note: set in the multiverse + reader is aware of the spider-society (though has an ambiguous role). i rly wanted to write hobie without the bad boy possessive energy haha 💀 a bit ooc as always he's a tough one lol (kind of too detailed to be hcs but we roll)

Hobie is very much secure in your relationship. Even if it's less established than your typical one, he doesn't get jealous or uncomfortable when he sees you around others. It's more amusing to him than anything, observing how you interact with people. He enjoys watching you in silence with the occasional witty interjection, and he likes listening to you speak even if it's not with him. He's one of those people who immediately decide whether they trust someone or not, and he's trusted you since you met, even if there was, and still is, incessant bickering.

The bickering is endless, by the way. Even when you move past friends (a lot faster than you realise), he's always on your case. You've been trying not to pick up on his speech patterns, but it's almost impossible considering how nice it sounds to hear the accent roll off his tongue. When you accidentally bust out a "wagwan" he can't contain his laughter, nearly doubling over at the way your face was stuck in embarrassment. He makes it a habit to rub it in your face now, teasing you by talking to you like you're from Camden; the way he talked to you before was just the tip of the iceberg.

Hobie isn't hesitant about touch at all. He's always touching you in some way or another. Whether it's his arm slung around your shoulders, his chin on the top of your head or even holding your hand, it definitely draws some attention when a near 7ft punk (though he's not bound by the label of height, according to him) is hovering around you like a giant flashing accessory.

And the man is shamelessly 'gross'. He'll kiss you even with your morning breath or after you've just eaten. Whenever you put something on your lips, no matter if it's lip balm or whatever you like to wear, he's always just waiting to mess it up. Hobie's a tease if anything too, pinching you unexpectedly just to see the flash of a pissed-off expression on your face. You've made it a habit to not give him that satisfaction, but he doesn't need it. Everything you do is more than enough to amuse him, even if he does try to kiss you hanging upside down, scaring the ever living hell out of you in his attempt.

When you're cold, he's always trying to warm you up by rubbing his hands over your shoulders and arms (though his sarcasm is more than enough to set you on fire sometimes.) It is pretty cold in his universe, so he's used to it (#1 denier of the cold; punks don't get cold.)

Hobie is known for being firm in his beliefs. He's an unapologetic anarchist, and while he doesn't shout about his political beliefs every second, you can see it in the way he acts. Even if you're not as bent on it as he is, you have to respect his commitment. You're one of the only people he tells about his universe, his experiences, what he lives for. It's refreshing in comparison to his spontenaeity, and while you don't see him much differently after he opens up, you realise that Hobie is one hell of a person. He's your person, (as much as he denies being confined to anyone or anything.)

And he's not afraid to involve you. Whenever you're in his universe, he takes you places like you're a tourist, no matter how used to the area you are. Hobie isn't exactly the most informative tour guide (and he takes any opportunity to bash corrupt political figures and tag up their campaigns), but it's the thought that counts. He loves showing you the little untouched nooks and lesser-known streets, hopping fences and swinging you over barbed wire to show you the real Camden. The culture, history, people — it's all Hobie. He lives in Camden, through Camden, and he wants to share it with you. No authority could ever supercede that.

What he also lives through is the punk scene. If it isn't obvious from his appearance already, he's always jamming on his guitar. If you ask what he's playing, he says he doesn't know yet. He's always coming up with something new; it's like there's an itch he needs to scratch whenever a new sound comes into his head, whether he's humming it, tapping it or strumming it on his guitar.

And he's good at it, his fingers gliding over the strings like it's a language he's fluent in, playing a half-formed chorus with shouty lyrics that don't exist but you can already hear (probably something to do with rebellion.) You like listening to him play, that familiar, addictive feeling coursing through you, the vibrations of the guitar never ceasing to strike you with awe. You wonder what it's like to hear him play at an actual gig (you'll find out soon when he sneaks you out for one; you won't be disappointed.) It's one of many things to admire about him. What he won't admit is that, more often than not, he's playing for you. Even if you're not exchanging words, the glances and music between you make the unfinished feel whole.

The man loves his guitar too. If he loves anything in this world, it's you, sure, but his guitar is also up there (can you blame him?) If he's not playing he's always idly tracing the stickers with his fingers, re-tuning it, whatever. It's a damn cool guitar, but a part of you might just be a little jealous of the musical instrument that's basically a part of him at this point.

That is, until the two of you are getting caught onto. Your more-than-friends relationship is pretty obvious, but when it starts interrupting with Hobie's Spider-society "duties", among his other anti-society antics, the both of you have the potential to fall into big trouble. It's not like he cares – leaving was in the back of his mind from the start, and it only fuels your bickering and crude gossip. Whatever happens, you know you've got Hobie, even if an entire multiverse of Spider-people actively reject you. You don't need to belong anything, nobody really does, he keeps telling you, but you're sure that if there's nothing else, you belong with him. You two against the world, so to speak. And your previous jealously completely fades when Hobie says something to you: you were both in an alley, hiding during a mission you weren't supposed to be on.

"You think they'll kill you for it?" you asked him jokingly, building up the mirth of the conversation as usual.

"If they kill me," Hobie starts, donning a sarcastic grin. "I want you to have my guitar."

It seems guitar lessons are an added bonus to your relationship — right after hiding from Miguel and Jessica, of course.

🕸️💫🎸

thanks for reading my self-indulgent rant lol. asks are open but not taking requests atm. feel free to comment (tho can't reply rip) love ya have a good one — if u liked this reblogs r appreciated <3

read the rest of my atsv headcanons here!

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Plush: Part One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst, feeling broken and utterly helpless to the point of depression

Summary: A case about a killer bunny brings you to Stillwater, Minnesota where Donna is expecting your help. Halloween is right around the corner, and you're doing everything you can to keep yourself from falling apart. It helps seeing your family safe knowing nothing is out to get them.

Season Eleven Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

The backyard is a mess. What the hell did Dean do? Now that you're back in touch with your magic, you are confident that you'll be able to fix whatever Dean destroyed. The basketball net is torn to shreds and the stand is lying on the concrete, Sam's garden looks like a car ran right through it, the wooden gazebo is in pieces on the ground with some of the bigger pieces inside the pool, and Maryann's plastic playset is bent out of shape and in pieces. It's a miracle that Joanna's treehouse and Dean's grill area are untouched.

Do you have what it takes to not only fix what he broke but to upgrade everything? Maryann is three, so she needs a better playset. Joanna is almost six, so she needs a bigger treehouse. Noah is nearly thirteen, so he'll need something other than a basketball court to keep him and his friends entertained.

Is that something you want? Noah and his friends over. This place holds so many secrets that would be dangerous for other kids to learn about. You don't want to ever keep your children away from having friends and hanging out with them but can you have them here? A door opens behind you and Dean walks into the destroyed backyard.

"There you are."

"Magic didn't treat you well, huh?"

"I tried my best," Dean chuckles.

"I know. How was that, by the way? To have magic?"

"Weird. I respect you and the things you can do but I didn't like it one bit."

You chuckle and rub your hands together, suddenly nervous at the thought of using so much magic to fix this. You might be back in the game but it still terrifies you that your magic has the ability to hurt others.

"You don't have to do this, you know."

"Yeah, I do. This is for our kids."

Instead of doing the entire backyard as a whole like you did when you first created it, you want to focus on one thing at a time starting with Maryann's playset. Your magic lifts the broken pieces of plastic and evaporates it as if it were never there to begin with. You take another deep breath and start to form the new playset for Maryann that stands two stories instead of one. She is growing up fast and will need a playset that will keep up with her antics.

A plastic tube slide jets out the side of it and twirls to create a perfect twist. A long wooden post sticks out the other end with two normal swings, a two-person swing, and a monkey swing falling from it. To give Joanna something to do on it, you create a set of monkey bars she can hang from.

The gazebo is next, and you reconstruct it the same way as you did the first time since you loved how it looked before. Sam's garden is restored to its former beauty added with a bigger pond, an extra set of benches, and more room for even more vegetables. The pool is stretched a bit more with a few more feet added to the deepest part since you love being able to swim in deep waters. You walk over to the basketball court and fix the shredded net and metal pole of both hoops.

You want to give Noah something else to do besides swim and play basketball, and you have the perfect thing in mind for it. You sweep your hand from one side of your body to the other side, and a trail follows the direction of your hand. The ground splits and hardens into asphalt along the entire perimeter of the backyard. Right where you stand, three go-karts appear out of nowhere, and you turn to Dean with a proud smile.

"Wow, I don't even know how you do it. You make it look so easy."

"It comes easy knowing I'm doing it for you and Sam and the kids. I can't hurt people this way so I'm okay with using it like this."

"You know you won't ever be her again, right?"

"Amara can suck souls out of people. If I do something to piss her off... She doesn't need me, Dean, only my magic. She can take it by sucking out my soul. I'll be her again without any choice in the matter."

"Alright," Dean whispers. "Let's go back inside."

You two head back inside and find Sam, Molly, and the kids in the kitchen. She is getting their lunches ready before she takes them to school, and Sam is eating his breakfast.

"The backyard is now open for business. I fixed everything and even added a go-kart track."

"Awesome!" Noah grins. "Does that mean I can have friends over? This place is so cool."

"Ask your dad."

You don't mind having them over but Dean might. He doesn't like people in this life if he can help it, and having kids at the Bunker will open a can of worms that he might not want opened.

"I don't know," Dean sighs.

"Please, Dad? I told my friends about this backyard and they all want to see it. I promise we'll stay out there or hang out in my room. We won't even touch anything else."

Dean looks at you and you shrug. "It could be fun. No monster can get inside the dome so they'll be safe."

"Fine, but only if Me, Sam, or your mom are here."

"Great, thanks!"

"Are you kids excited about Halloween?" Molly asks.

"Yeah! Can I tell Mommy what we're being?" Joanna asks.

"I thought you wanted to keep it a surprise."

"Oh, yeah," she giggles.

"Are you guys going to be here for Halloween?" Noah asks.

"Yes."

"You'll let me go off with my friends?"

"Yes, but where I can at least see you."

"Deal," Noah smiles.

He and his friends are going to be the Avengers but you don't know which one your son is going to be.

"If you want, you can have the weekend off," you offer to Molly. "The kids will be with us the entire time."

"Thanks," she smiles brightly. "I can go to my friend's party, then."

"If you need me to come pick you up for any reason, you call me, okay?"

"Okay." Molly packs the lunches and hands them to the kids. "School time! Let's go."

Dean kisses the head of each of their heads as they leave. Now it's just you, Sam, and Dean alone.

"Are we gonna talk about my visions or just pretend like everything is fine?" Sam asks.

"We already talked about it," Dean sighs.

"Yeah, we did, Dean, but why is it so hard to believe that God could be sending me visions about the Darkness?"

"Are you kidding me? He didn't feel the need to show up for the Apocalypse. Why would he give a shit now?"

"I don't know. Maybe because she's his sister? What do you wanna do? Sit back? Ignore him? Do nothing?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying." Dean sighs in frustration and runs a hand through his hair. "All I'm saying is don't count on God. Okay? Count on us."

Sam scoffs and takes another bite of his breakfast.

"Right." Sam remembers the file he grabbed from the library and slides it across the table as he takes another bite. "Oh, this is everything Cas dug up in Gaza, every last bit of prebiblical lore. Half of it I couldn't read. It's in Aramaic. The other half... Nada. Not a single mention of the Darkness."

Dean's phone rings and he smiles when he sees who it is.

"Well, I'll be damned." Dean answers his phone. "Donna, what's shakin'?"

Just like that, your good mood turns sour. One word and your entire body wants to shut down. Donna. You were so mean to her. What you did to Doug...

"'Fat sucker' Donna?" Sam whispers.

Dean nods and continues to listen to her. His expression goes serious. "What do you mean 'killer bunny'? ... Okay, we're on our way." He hangs up the phone. "Donna needs us."

Stillwater, Minnesota is nine hours away from the Bunker so you get the day started by driving. It gives you nine hours to think about what you're going to say when you see Donna. You lean your head on the window and stare at the countryside passing you by, replying that one moment over and over in your head.

You walk into the expo and admire all the weapons they have on display. Donna and Jody are looking at some of the guns on the opposite side of the room, and a very tall man approaches them from behind. His name tag says Doug, and you remember Donna saying she had an ex-husband named Doug who was a douchebag to her. You walk to a table a few down from them and listen in on their conversation.

"If you're trying to pull the wool over this one, you got the wrong girl. Sheriff Hanscum here is a wolf in sheepskin, right?" Doug chuckles.

"Thank you. Wolves are majestic creatures, but save your flattery for other female people."

You can tell she is uncomfortable with him.

"Right, Sheriff Goodhill. No. I mean, yeah, but we just met on Cufflinks. You know how that is."

"Cuff what?" Jody asks.

"Cufflinks! It's a dating site for cops. Are you on it, Donna?" Doug asks.

"Me? No. Not quite there yet."

"Oh, you still getting in date shape, huh?"

She frowns at his insult but tries to play it off.

"It's more like trying to get through the stuff on my DVR first."

Okay, you've heard enough. You walk over to Doug and tap him on the shoulder. He turns to you but you give him a deadly slap to the cheek. He is shocked at your behavior and staggers back from the impact. Donna and Jody are shocked into silence.

"You are a fucking lowlife and a shitty person if you treat Donna like that. No wonder she divorced you because I can't stand to be in the same room as you much less spend my life with you. Get the hell out of here."

"O-Oh, okay," Doug stutters.

"What the h-e-double hockey sticks, Y/N? Calling my ex a lowlife? Slapping him in the face?"

"What, like you were gonna do it?"

"What would be the point? We're divorced! Do you really think I'm gonna change him now?"

"Let me get this straight. You're going to let everyone walk over you like a fucking doormat forever? Is that it?"

"How about this? Until you've actually lost a husband, you keep your mouth zipped about mine."

Dean is pulling into the police station before you know it, and you get out with dread creeping up the back of your neck. Donna is talking to someone when you enter, and her eyes light up when she sees the brothers. Guilt is weighing heavily on your shoulders knowing what you've done. Does she hate you? Will she ignore you and cast you off to the side? Will she forgive you?

"Oh! You three are a sight for sore eyes!" she grins and pulls them both into a hug.

"What, are you working all ten thousand lakes now? This isn't usually your beat."

"Just Larsen County, what with the cutbacks and all. For the most part, it's been tater tots and lemon drops, except for this doozy. When you get a call about a killer Easter bunny, you don't know what to think," she chuckles. "The guy's real strong, too. He lashed out at several officers and it took a whole team just to get him into custody. That's not the weirdest part. The bunny head won't come off."

"What do you mean?" Sam asks.

"We tried everything short of a chainsaw, but it's really stuck. I mean, who knows? It could be nothing. The guy could just have a big melon like my Uncle Wally, but ever since I've seen what goes bump in the night... I'm not taking any chances."

"You did the right thing by calling us."

"Maybe. I'm just still not 100% sure this is our kind of case," Dean says.

A tall officer walks over to the group and you notice the way he looks at Donna.

"Who are these folks, Sheriff?"

"Gentlemen, this is Officer Stover. He's lead on the case."

You don't miss the way she passes right over you. Granted, you're in the background and not engaging in the conversation but still.

"Agents Elliott, Allen, and Savage," Sam smiles and shakes hands with the officer.

"Nice to meet ya. Please, call me Doug."

Your ears perk up when you hear the name. He doesn't look anything like Donna's ex-husband, but it's interesting how he has the same name.

"These three fine folks will be helping out with the old hippity hop."

"Oh, we're gonna need it." Doug's eyes widen. "Not that Sheriff Hanscum isn't doing a bang-up job. We're lucky to have her." He chuckles nervously and looks at Donna. "Well, I better get back to it."

He leaves after an awkward beat or two. Dean looks at Donna with a weird look and she immediately spots it.

"What?"

"It's none of our business, but it looks like somebody might have a crush."

"I was born at night, Dean. Not last night."

"What's the deal? He seems nice."

"He is but he's a cop... named Doug. Clearly, I have a type, but no thank you. I won't be once bitten and twice Doug'd."

"Alright," Sam nods, "where's the wascally wabbit?"

x

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