#it just feels silly to draw clothes in the water. but out of the water. idk. you get it though

[keeps-ache]

physically i feel like i've experienced exhaustion going at least 75 on a side road while i was just chilling and standing next to my own mailbox when it hit me with its stupid 2025 ford f150 But at least my eyeballs aren't itchy :)

[seveneyesoup]

Introducing…… Her

i got a fursona her name is steel she’s a leopard seal and i can’t stop drawing her

[mwphisto]

LaDs: Random Head-Canons

~ these are just random little ideas I have about each love interest, like a previous post I made, most of these have no prior canon lore to back the claim. Just based on vibes.

You and Rafayel plan your arguments. Contrary to popular belief, you two don’t fight often at all. Due to that, you two like to role play arguments for giggles. It usually ends when one of you can’t keep it together and/or the argument turns real. Which usually means it’s time to tap out and do some damage control.

You and Sylus dedicate at least twenty minutes of time before bed to lay together and gossip. It’s like having a sleepover with your bestie. You get settled, face each other, and just go on and on about whoever and whatever until your eyelids are heavy and he can’t stop yawning.

You and Zayne frequently shower together. It’s your favorite way of getting a little quality time in before starting your days. 9/10 times it doesn’t lead to sex either, just soft giggles shared under a warm stream of water while you discuss what your days hold and when to expect the other to arrive home. You even plan out your dinner for the night while shampooing his hair.

You and Xavier garden together. Not that kind of gardening, actual gardening on his balcony with plants you’ve adopted from Jeremiah’s shop. You’ve given them all names, have a detailed care plan hanging on Xavier’s fridge, and the passcode to his apartment if he’s off in a no hunt zone. They’re your babies.

You and Caleb have spa nights. I’m talking mani/pedi, face mask, hair mask, under eye patches, lymphatic massages, the whole nine yards. Caleb shaves your legs for you as a thanks for shaving his stubble since he always cuts his face up. But with your legs? He’s so gentle, so careful, doesn’t miss a single hair. He also rocks the black nail polish you applied to his fingers.

Rafayel takes note of what perfumes you buy, and jots down his thoughts on them. He’s still a little traumatized (heavily turned on) by that one perfume. The one you only have an unlabeled bottle of, the one you use to rile him up. So he takes down the scent notes from your other fragrances to try and compare to the unlabeled bottle but dammit he gets so… distracted that he can only recall one possible note at a time.

Sylus stole one of your trinkets — it was a duplicate figure from a blind box — and keeps it in his pocket whenever he goes out on business. It’s his way of keeping a piece of you with him all the time. The silly little thing makes him smile like a moron when he feels it in his pocket or sets it out on the table before him while he works. He’s named it his “mini kitten” and he’ll send you pictures of it on his travels.

Zayne designed your engagement ring himself one afternoon while listening to a colleague drone on and on about research he already knew by heart. He draws well, steady hands and precise eyes aided him in school when he had to draw out anatomy diagrams. But now? He can doodle for fun and it turns out pretty damn good. So he spent the meeting designing your ring, eager to make it real.

Xavier has a list of baby names saved on his phone. Any time he heard one he liked, he’d open his note app and jot it down. At this point, he has nearly thirty names saved, and has even discussed the topic with you and added some additions. Perhaps he’s too invested now, because all of his recommended items are baby clothes and furniture. It’s giving him baby fever.

Caleb wants to get tattoos but the DAA and the Farspace Fleet have strict policies on them. He still snuck one, a matching one he got with you shortly after you graduated high school. It’s hidden on the inside of his bicep, as is yours, and it’s another little secret the two of you share together.

[pearlymel]

A Slow life

ft. sylus. Just comfort in general, they're married, your honor. mention of kids (they have one boy and twin girls mweheheheh) , tiny bit suggestive but fluff. 1.1k words.

It’s late now.

After a long and exhausting day, Sylus made it up for you by drawing a hot bath, full of bubbles and scents you liked (and a few herbs that would help soothe sore muscles according to Mephisto).

Sitting behind you in the tub, Sylus’ large frame pressed against your back. His chin is resting on the top of your shoulder, with his arms wrapped around you as he holds you against his chest.

And you're fairly relaxed. too relaxed until you remember your little troublemakers, “are the kids back?”

“Mm, they’re back,” he murmurs, nuzzling his face into your neck, “they’ll be asleep by now, it’s pretty late.”

He’s just quietly holding you, enjoying the feeling of your body in his arms, the warm water surrounding you both, and you grab a flower petal that had been floating around you.

“You alright?”

"Yeah, just making sure the twins looked after them, I should thank them somehow," you hum with a soft smile playing on your lips.

“I’m sure they’d appreciate that,” Sylus muses, his hand gently rubbing your side, “I’m happy to hear you say that, though,” he adds while burying his face into your hair.

A hand snaked back up to his hair, "You're a cute dad, you know?"

“Don’t know about that,” he huffs, but the sound is a little more embarrassed than usual, “you’re a great mom, though,” his lips slowly trails over the slope of your shoulder. “Our kids are lucky to have you.”

You finally turn your head around, twisting your slightly sore body so you would be able to face him, and you're careful not to splash the water or precious petals out of the tub.

Your hands finds his face, then your lips follow.

He makes a low noise of surprise, but it quickly morphs into a pleased hum as your lips meet his. He gives a gentle pull at your waist, guiding you to shift until you're straddling his lap.

His hands smooth over your body, large hands roaming down your waist to settle on your hips, holding you snugly in his lap.

"Hey," it's hard not to smile, especially when you know that Sylus is only like this for you.

Sylus chuckles, “hey back,” he murmurs, he still holds you steady, hands moving to your hips to keep you from wobbling, but he also moves a finger to lazily feel the strands of your hair between his fingertips.

"We were supposed to relax."

“You know how hard it is for me to relax while you’re in my lap?” he drawled.

You squint your eyes, "I can feel that, idiot."

“Oh, can you?” He grins, “mm, my apologies,” he sighs almost dramatically, “Guess I can’t help it, sweetie.”

Your pinch his cheeks playfully in return, "behave. we still might have to bake something for the twins."

Sylus’ lips turned down in an almost sulky look. The pinch actually makes him pout, something he would never admit to (that would take away from his big bad onychinus leader image.)

“I’ll behave.” he grumbles, “for now.”

"Be good. For now." you repeat.

Sylus raises an eyebrow, “I’m usually good,” his arms wraps around your waist again when he notices you leaning closer.

Your husband can be silly sometimes.

Your lips are on his skin, lazily whispering, "you bring me comfort."

He huffs a low laugh. but the way he’s holding you, he knows that you can hear the truth in his voice, even though he’s trying to sound sarcastic and witty. He knows that you could feel everytime he comforted you in a way.

He loves being your comfort. Being your safe place. Your anchor.

"But seriously I..." you rub your cheek against his shoulder, "you're everything."

“Mm,” he hums. likewise, he wanted to whisper.

You blink slowly, and Sylus can already see the telltale signs of your drowsiness, “you’re not allowed to fall asleep in the bath, honey.”

You lift your head up, "would you carry me out if I did?”

“Of course I would. ”

"Dry me? Clothe me comfortably?"

“Clothe you, tuck you into bed,” he hums, leaning back to grab the fluffy, soft towel he had prepared, and he brings it up to gently pat at your skin and hair.

“And get in bed with you,” he adds, his voice turning into a quiet murmur.

"Hold me tight?" you add on sleepily.

“Keep you safe, watch over you,” he carefully tries sitting you up, to carry you out so he could properly dry you.

You yawn, "and the kids..."

“I’d make sure they were okay, too. Then I’d crawl into bed with you, hold you while you slept.”

…

You wake up feeling surprisingly refreshed, and more importantly, well-rested. Sylus made sure you actually did sleep, and he held you through the night, just as he’d promised.

As your senses adjust, you’re first aware of the pleasant warmth seeping into your back. He’s pressed up against you, as close as possible, an arm slung lazily over your waist.

"Sy.." you were about to mumble, but you still listen to how deep in sleep he was, so you let him rest, even sacrificing his arm under your head. what a loving husband.

His breathing is steady and quiet behind you, and every so often—particularly if you start to move—he’ll tighten his hold on your waist, pulling you back snugly against him again.

"Sylus," you whisper, turning around slowly, carefully making sure not to bother him.

That is, until he feels the soft brush of your fingertips against his skin. It’s a barely-there touch, but it’s enough to stir him, he gives a low groan, lips giving a small frown as his half-lidded crimson eyes follow towards your hand.

You giggle quietly, he's so adorable when he frowns in his sleep like that.

“…What are you doing?” He asks with a slight morning rough voice.

"Watching you."

“You know that’s a little weird, right?” He pretends to be annoyed, but if he was fully awake, then you'd see those pink hued cheeks.

"Go back to sleep, honey." you peck his forehead before gently stroking his hair, as if trying to lull him back to sleep.

He’ll deny it, but he loves when you play with his hair.

This is his favorite way to wake up. To open his eyes and find you there, your hand running through his hair, fingers tracing his scalp.

He leans into your touch as he gives another low hum of contentment, the sound vibrating against your neck.

[14dayswithyou]

This Angel has another question! \o

What's it like taking a bath with RENACTED?

✦゜ANSWERED: Hell on earth T_T he takes up soooo much room and won't give you a moment to yourself dshjgjds /silly

cw: It gets NSFW towards the end!! MDNI!

"Think we need more bubbles?"

When you're met with nothing but silence, you look up from your bubble sculpture to see your partner sporting an all too familiar pout on their face. His tattooed arms were crossed over his bare chest like he wanted to prove a point — and as if to fully emphasize their current disdain; Ren turns his head away the moment you make eye contact.

You couldn't help but let out a puff of laughter at the silliness of it all.

"Why are you pouting?" You nudge their leg with your own. "What's wrong?"

"...Why are you all th'way over there?"

'Over there', being on the opposite side of the tub from your beloved boyfriend. Which... didn't make much sense now that you thought about it, seeing as he was the one who (silently) volunteered to take the side with the faucet and drain, which left you with all the space and legroom your heart could desire. Though... it wasn't much, given how massive of a mountain your partner was. Ren was all long, lanky limbs and thick muscle; but it wasn't exactly evident with all the baggy clothing they often chose to wear.

In an attempt to make your beloved hacker feel better about the (albeit childish) situation, you carefully scoot over so that you were resting against one of their legs instead of the tub. But apparently, Ren still wanted more, as a familiar tattooed arm emerges from the water the moment you draw closer and silently beckons you to join him at his side. When you accept — in what world would you ever say no to him and that trademark frown? — Ren pulls you flush against his chest with a content sigh.

They were acting like the cat who got the cream, no doubt.

You barely have a moment to adjust to your new position before you feel Ren's arms wrap around your waist, and his chin finds its place atop your shoulder. Now, your hacker has the perfect view of you rebuilding your bubble castle once more — only this time, you were right where he wanted you.

"There." Your tone is laced with something mirthful and lively as you lean into his embrace. "Is this better?

"Much."

"Just make sure you don't fall asleep. Elanor told me that it's not safe to do that." You purposefully ignore how their arms tense up at the mention of your coworker. However, you don't miss how they dip further under the water to run along the inside of your thighs instead.

Ren's real name slips from your lips in warning. You knew exactly what he was trying to do right now. Their hands were ghosting dangerously close to your—

"...'M not doing anything."

"Liar, I can feel you— Ah!"

His fingers casually brush past your most sensitive part, and it has you flinging your head back and clutching onto his forearm. From that reaction alone, you can hear Ren let out a curious hum from behind as their hand moves back to your sex once more.

"Just making sure you're all nice 'n clean down there."

"I-I somehow doubt that..."

"Isn't that the point of baths? T'get clean?" He muses, voice ghosting along the shell of your ear. "...Why were you talking to your coworker about taking baths in the first place, anyway?"

One of the rubber frogs you added ('for ambience!' you recall telling your boyfriend) innocently floats past, and you had half a mind to reach out and turn its gaze away from the intimate scene. Ren still had one hand firmly placed around your stomach to keep you steady while the other was shamelessly running up and down your—

"...Think I'm gonna need to do a thorough inspection. Bend over the tub f'me?"

[lyn31]

Oh? them sneaking around for adult time sounds interesting 👀 zayne snaking his arm on mc’s waist from behind while she’s cooking breakfast and then proceeding to pepper her neck and shoulder with sensual kisses and serena suddenly pulls on his pants “daddy? Mommy? What are you doing?” 🤣

This is technically not a request but this is just perfect, so I was like "I'm saving this." 😂 Now finally I can do it! ahahahaha it's a short one tho, cute and short!

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Morning Kisses

Summary

A quiet morning turns playfully chaotic when your daughter interrupts an intimate moment—reminding you that love, laughter, and a little embarrassment come with the territory of family.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader Family fluff, embarrassed, cute, silly, short.

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It’s just like any other morning.

Zayne already finished making breakfast—simple eggs and toast, the way you like it. All that’s left is the tea. You hum quietly to yourself as you pour the boiling water into your favorite cup, the scent of chamomile rising with the steam.

Your little girl hasn’t woken up yet—though, like clockwork, she never sleeps in for long. You’ve already showered, your damp hair twisted into messy buns, and you’re lounging in your comfiest clothes. You miss your work sometimes but nothing beats not having to go in first thing in the morning. Besides, you’ll be back in no time.

You reach for the tea bag, but before you can drop it in, you feel familiar arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Mmm. Smells nice,” Zayne murmurs against your skin, breath cool as he presses a kiss to the nape of your neck and rests his chin on your shoulder.

You grin, tilting your head toward him and giving his cheek a quick kiss. “Which one? The tea or me?”

“Both,” he replies smoothly, already trailing more kisses along your neck. You sigh, leaning into his touch, your fingers sliding over his hands still resting on your waist.

His mouth moves up, brushing the sensitive spot behind your ear. You shiver. His hand slips under your sweater, cool fingers brushing against your bare stomach. The contrast makes you jolt for a second—but then you melt back against him, sighing again.

He traces slow, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. He sucks gently at your skin, making your knees weak. You instinctively press back against him—just a little—but it’s enough to make him hiss under his breath. His hands tighten slightly on your waist, and you can tell he’s just about to turn you around—

Until he freezes.

Confused, you’re just about to ask what’s wrong—when you feel a small tug on your pants.

You glance down.

Serena.

She’s hugging her snow bunny plushie, hair sticking out in every direction, eyes still half-lidded with sleep. She must’ve tugged at Zayne first, but when he didn’t respond, she reached for you. She doesn’t say a word, just looks up at the two of you—her expression puzzled, clearly curious.

Zayne is still behind you, stiff as a board now. His ears are bright red, and that makes your own embarrassment fizzle into amusement. Holding your laugh, you crouch down in front of your daughter.

She blinks at you. “What are you doing?”

“Daddy’s just giving Mommy a morning kiss, sweetie.” You glance toward Zayne, who looks like he just returned from a spiritual journey. He clears his throat, trying to recover.

You turn back to Serena, lean in, and kiss her cheek. “Just like that.”

Her little eyebrows draw together in thought. Like she clearly know that's not the same.

“Ohhh,” you say dramatically, pretending to realize something. “You meant this, huh?” Then you start peppering her cheeks with loud, silly kissing noises, scooping her into your arms.

She squeals, laughing, and tries to push your face away. “Okay, okay!”

But you don’t stop. “My cute daughter wants her morning kisses!”

You keep smothering her in playful kisses until she bursts out laughing. Then finally she retaliates, grinning as she shoves her plushie into your face in an adorable counterattack.

You gasp. “Ah! Noooooo, my only weakness! Counterattack!”

Dramatically, you collapse to the floor like you’ve been mortally wounded. Zayne crouches beside you and starts to reach for Serena, but she yelps and bolts away—leaving her plushie behind. You’re just about to sit up when she runs back in, snatches it, and scampers off again, still giggling to herself.

“Wash your face and come back for breakfast,” Zayne calls after her, voice still amused.

Serena pauses at the doorway, eyes narrowed suspiciously, as if he’s trying to trick her. Then she dashes off again.

You finally get up, brushing off your imaginary wounds. “Well, that was eventful,” you say, smirking at Zayne.

He lets out a short laugh. “Eventful is one way to describe it.” But instead of stepping back, he pushes you gently against the counter again.

You raise an eyebrow. “Really? After your ears turned that red just because our daughter walked in on us?”

“I was just startled,” he mutters against your lips.

“Sure you were.” You grin, about to wrap your arms around his neck—when he pulls back.

“But better safe than sorry,” he says, clearing his throat yet again as he glances toward the doorway and walks over to his seat.

You snort, and finally get back to the tea you momentarily abandoned. Truthfully, you’re a bit flustered too. A peck on the lips in front of Serena is one thing—but that was definitely pushing it. Shaking your head, you smile to yourself.

Well, some things never change.

And some things—like quiet mornings, warm tea, and your ridiculous little family—are worth adjusting for.

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Notes

What else can I say? This is cute af 😩🫶🏻

I was editing to add the rest of the series part but it was too long ahahaha so here's just the whole list: Parenthood AU Masterlist ✨

Although if you missed the Newlyweds series! Here How it all happen And also the Pregnancy series, starting with Try For Baby

[medullamindset]

Steb on sex

NSFW

Stebs relationship with sex, before meeting you and now (•‿•) tried to make Reader as GN as possible so everyone can read tyty for coming tonight hehe *checks mic*

Steb didn't really think about sex until he met you. It just didn't rattle him. It's not that he was against the idea, he just.. had better things to do. Sure he'd masturbated from time to time.. But not as much as you'd expect from a male teenager/young adult. Then he met you, and you always initiated, makeout sessions, over the clothes stuff, it was always you. Its not that Steb didn't care or that he didn't find you attractive, cuz he did, ofcourse he did.. He was just.. A liiittle stiff about it.

As time passed tho, Steb started to realize how down bad he really was for you. After a few months of getting to know eachother intimately, you'd started giving him boners.. Oftentimes you were actually in his lap, making him feel good. Which made sense. But other times he could just watch you move about, fixing yourself up after taking a shower. Lotioning your body, drying your hair with a towel, wearing something light like a t-shirt and underwear.. And his pants would get tight from just the sight alone, the sight of you.

He'd start thinking about you the nights he slept alone. Your pretty face, your satistfying voice, the way it hitched when he ran his fingers up and down your side the other day, humping you sensually. The way you looked with kiss bitten lips when he pulled away, red and glossy, eyes glazed over with need. He'd think about what you might look like with his cum painted all over that same pretty face- fuck. Hes down bad now.

Jerking off in the shower while you were cooking him something nice, his vocals masked by the sound of water droplets thudding against the bathtub harshly. Prior, you had reached over the table to grab something rather than walking around it. Steb glanced over at just the right time to see your shirt ride up, exposing your slightly arched back as you made a sound of effort. A little "mnh." As you settled back on your heels, returning to your task. Steb gulped and exused himself to "go take a shower" right then and there.

When you guys finally do have sex, Steb finally gets it. He gets it. The sight of you beneath him, face twisted into a look of pleasure, eyebrows knit together, eyes pleading and oh,.. The noises that fell from your lips will be engraved in his mind forever. The little gasps and "Ah's" as he picked up the pace, he replays them in his head every night when he cant sleep, rutting into his hand almost pathetically.. It couldn't ever compete with the way you felt wrapped around him tho, gummy walls sucking him in so eagerly, tighter with the more pleasure he gave you. In just half a year, Steb's sex drive went from a one to a solid seven out of ten. He craves you, and only you. In the shower, on the kitchen counter, cuddled up on the couch, fucking under the blankets like its a secret. And in your bed ofcourse....

You've probably had hours of sex in every room of your place when you think about it..

And Steb isn't one for "quickies", whats the point if he can't take his time with you?? give you his all. Draw as many orgasms from you as he can with teeth, tongue and fingers, preparing you for his ACHING cock. He gets so hard it nearly hurts, spending hours between your legs will do that to him, watching your reactions, ears flicking at the desparate noises you make, grabbing eagerly at your flesh, licking your sex up and down and all over, getting drunk off your juices. A quickie just wouldn't feel right..

Steb isn't that big on PDA either, he perfers doing it in the comfort of your home, hes got an image to maintain, hes an enforcer. He can't be known as that one fish officer who humped his fine shyt silly in a broom closet.. Even if it did actually happen. Cuz it does don't get me wrong, as long as you aren't somewhere literal children will see you, and hes horny enough.. Pull him away to somewhere you wont be interrupted and hes handsy straight away, pulling your shirt over your head and attacking your chest and neck with his wet tongue, lifting you and pressing you up against the wall zero effort. (...Maybe a little effort, hes kinda skinny) Steb is a stolid enforcer of few words, but behind closed doors, hes a moaning mess who likes it stickyyyy

In conclusion, Steb loves sex now, sex with YOU.

thank u and goodnight (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

Reblogs r appreciated.. Gulp.

[softsunnyy]

mean luke with a piss kink🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

i tried not to get carried away, i swear

🚨 piss kink, u peeing on his dick, him making you not go to the bathroom ?? idk 🚨

poorly written

it started almost two hours ago. You hadn't even realized his plan. Not at first.

Luke kept giving you glasses of water, distracting you with meaningless conversation so you wouldn't notice. Then he started making you laugh, saying and doing silly things just to get a smile out of you. And don't get me wrong, he loves hearing you laugh. He takes pride in knowing he's the reason you smile so much, having the chance to see your face transform into one of pure joy. However, right now his intentions aren't so pure, and he's not doing it for the usual reasons. No.

he does it to see the way you shift in your seat, unconsciously at first, feeling the urge to pee slowly creep in as your belly begins to swell. He does it to see your panicked face when you wanna excuse yourself and get up to go to the bathroom and he says no, telling you to stay seated. God, your eyes widen, and you stammer, trying to make sure you heard correctly.

but of course you did.

and you try to act normal, because you wanna be good, but when he started running a hand up your inner thigh, you knew you were lost.

he does it so he can see you so, so desperate.

and that led to your current situation, with your boyfriend running his fingers between your folds, admiring how your fluids soak his fingers, leaving them shiny and slippery, and making it even easier to slide them into your tight hole.

you whimper, which makes Luke smile; it makes him move his fingers faster, like he forgot that his hands are big, going inside of you so deep that you can feel yourself almost releasing. And you try to warn him, but you can only put a hand on his arm, squeezing it tightly as you try to close your legs. Luckily, he seems to understand, because he immediately looks at you, slowing down the speed with which he slides his fingers into your walls.

“don't even think about it,” he warned, a smug grin on his face. He can feel your pussy spasming, your walls smothering him to try to hold back your juices, terrified of embarrassing yourself by peeing on his hand.

“i can't, Lu, i need…” he moved his fingers harder, deeper, drawing a moan from you so you wouldn't finish your sentence.

“nothing, you don't need anything,” he said, then slipped his fingers out of your pussy, watching your hole throb, wanting to be filled once more.

this drove him to go faster, so he began to remove his clothes, an image that distracted you.

you can feel your pussy drooling as you watched his muscles with every movement, or his chest and abdomen covered in old and new marks you'd left on other occasions. And your legs tremble, opening slowly and obscenely for him when he finally releases his cock, hard, big, swollen and ready for you.

Luke wastes no time, shoving it into your hole before you can even think about holding back your pee, and he's hard, so rough that you try to hit his arm, as a way of begging him for mercy.

his cock is so deep inside your pussy that you can feel it everywhere, and the pressure in your belly begins to increase as he moves, sliding in and out, while he teases, talking about how you squeeze him, how you take him so well, like a good whore.

and he knows what he's doing when he places one of his hands on the bulge in your belly, making your eyes water, and making you feel a huge pressure and desperation. Luke moves fast, harder and harder, and you drool, babble, try to beg, but you can only moan his name like a broken record, using your hands to scratch his back, leaving reddish lines on his skin as a result of all this play.

and he enjoys it, of course he does. Because he loves the way you try to close your legs, and your walls throb, tighter even as he expands them every time he slides in. He knows you're trying to hold back, trying not to let your pee flow, but he also knows you're gonna fail, because your hands are shaking, your toes are curling, and he's putting more and more pressure on the bulge in your belly.

his cock slides in and out, hammering inside you, hitting your cervix, filling you completely, while you receive him, like his good girl, like he's trained you.

teases and taunts come out of his mouth, which you're already somewhat accustomed to, and which only serve to turn you on even more. And he smiles, talking about how well you're taking him, how hard you're squeezing him, how you should get his cock completely wet, until you start to feel the knot forming, too fast and intense.

you don't even have time to warn him when your eyes squeeze shut and your moans turn to whimpers, your juices running down your folds, over his cock, down your thighs, making a mess. And he can feel your hot fluids, your scent of arousal. He can see your face turning red with embarrassment, and it makes Luke explode, moving more wildly, more primal, not giving you time to rest, watching your juices spurt everywhere, making an obscene, sticky sound, until he finally reaches his orgasm, filling you with strips and strips of his cum, until you feel stuffed again.

Luke feels like he unlocked something, because he'll never forget your panic, your desperation, and the way your body reacted to his touch. And maybe he'll want to try more. Maybe he'll try to push himself to the limit, until he can't hold it anymore and pee on you while you're in the shower, or while he's inside you. Maybe even while you're eating his dick.

the mere thought of his juices running down your body, marking you in a more intimate, possessive, disgusting, and obsessive way, made him feel something different in his chest. An emotion he'd never experienced before.

so prepare yourself for the teasing, the torture, but also for this new world of pleasure, where you'll end up accepting whatever Luke wants to give you, no matter what it is, even if it means humiliating yourself to the limit.

it's what you would do for your boyfriend.

[strawberryblue-blog]

Drops of love —Oscar Piastri.

Summary: Oscar kisses you in the rain and confesses his love.

Warning: none. Cute, soft, fluff. Best friends to lovers.

Words count: +1.4k.

#SEXYNOTE: I apologize for the mistakes. English is not my first language. Enjoy it, I love you 💗

The afternoon falls over the paddock, and the sky, previously clear, begins to darken with dense, gray clouds. Your footsteps continue to walk around every corner of the track unhurriedly with your best friend, laughing at any silliness, enjoying the simple fact of being together. Oscar is supposed to be memorizing the curves and the track for Sunday's race but you are just laughing and fooling around. He pushes you, you push him, he tells a joke and then you run around like kids. Lando and the team left them a long time ago, when the clouds threatened to roll in and almost everything is empty.

Suddenly, a drop of cold water brushes your nose, then another and another. Before you can react, the rain falls in a thick curtain, drenching the sidewalk and everyone walking unsuspectingly.

"Run!" he shouts, taking your hand naturally, dragging you through the crowd.

People begin to pull out their umbrellas and put on their coats as you run around the paddock trying to get to the shelter in the Mclaren garage.

You can do nothing but laugh as the two of you dodge through the crowd, feeling the water wet your clothes and hair. Drops slide down your face but you don't care. It's one of those warm rains that smells of wet earth and freedom. Your hand holds yours as you guide you around, your legs exhausted from the distance traveled, your bodies wet from the steady rain and your hearts pounding and straining.

After several minutes of running aimlessly and without reaching your destination, you find shelter under the awning of some entrance. The space is reduced and both are stuck together, your bodies hot from the run, feeling your agitated breaths mingle in the humidity-laden air.

Oscar is still smiling, his light hair dripping and sticking to his forehead. He looks different this way, closer, more real. When he looks at you, his expression changes, softens with something you can't define.

Your heart starts pounding, as if he wants to warn you of something, as if he already knows what is about to happen.

"You're so beautiful" he says in a whisper, and without thinking, he brushes a wet strand of hair away from your face.

You bite your lip, barely feeling your cheeks begin to heat up. That simple gesture sends an electric current through your skin. Your stomach fills with a whirlwind of sensations you've never felt with him before. Or maybe you have but now you notice it clearly.

The rain continues to fall heavily around you but inside that small space, the world seems to stand still. His eyes roam over your face as if memorizing every detail. You can't look away from his, from that glow you've never seen before with such intensity.

And then, without warning, his hand slides to your cheek, caressing it with his fingertips, with a tenderness that takes your breath away.

"And you look like a wet cute puppy" you murmur, laughing both of you wet but smiling from the experience.

He laughs too before leaning gently into you. Your eyes watch him fondly as his breaths become regular. Oscar's touch feels soft on your cool, almost warm skin that leaves a trace on your skin.

Your body trembles as his face approaches you in slow motion. You're somewhat surprised and confused, but still, you don't stop him. You don't want to stop him.

The first brush of his lips against yours is so sweet and delicate that you barely believe it is real. It's a shy kiss, almost as if he's afraid you're going to pull back. But you don't. You let yourself be carried away by the warmth of his mouth by the way his other hand rests on your waist gently as if you were something precious. Now both his hands cup your cheeks deepening the kiss, drawing you to him and you lean on his hips for stability.

You kiss again and again, like two pairs of teenagers who have just learned what love is. Because you are. His gentleness in caressing you, in kissing you, makes your heart slowly turn on. Your warm breaths mingle and their body covers yours, embracing you. It is a pure, magical and sensational act.

When you separate, he watches you with a mixture of nerves and excitement. His feelings confused and somewhat surprised.

"I've been waiting so long for this" he confesses and his voice sounds sincere as if he has been holding those words inside him for too long.

Your cheeks turn red in an instant. The kiss was perfect. But you don't know what it really meant, especially when you know that best friends don't kiss.

"Oscar..." you whisper as his eyes sparkle looking into yours.

The position remains the same, his warm hands holding your face as their gazes are glued together. Oscar's dark brown-green tinted eyes shine with a special color today, a magnificent blend that is stored deep in your heart.

"Can I tell you something kind of silly?" he asks suddenly, you smile hiding your nervousness about the kiss.

"Always" you reply with a smile.

He pauses for a long pause, so long that you think he's pulled back. But he doesn't. He sighs and speaks:

"I like you. Like... a lot" he confess with confidence. "And I know we're best friends and I know this is a giant cliché but every time you laugh or send me audios singing horribly or hug me like the world is ending, I think 'ah, I'm lost'" he says loud and clear despite the heavy rain in the back.

Your pulse quickens as his words rattle around in your head. You blink, absorbing his words as your feelings begin to float. Is this a dream? Did Oscar, your best friend, just confess his love to you?

You don't know what to answer, it's a shock to you. But you know your heart skipped a beat when he admitted it. Your stomach churned with fluttering butterflies and you felt a shiver down your spine. You definitely want to respond too.

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but..." he says again but you interrupt him.

"It's not ridiculous" you say, your voice shaking slightly but coming out firmer than you expected. "Because I feel the same way. A long time ago. I wanted to tell you but I just... I was afraid. I thought if I said it and it wasn't mutual, I'd lose everything"

Now he's the one standing silently, eyes wide open. His breathing calm as he watches you, as if scanning this memory. He sighs with some relief and smiles again.

"Really?" he asks with some amusement.

"Very serious" you say, with a shy smile. "I've liked you for a long time. I like you when you take care of me without me noticing. When you know exactly what to say to make me laugh. When you stay with me even when I'm unbearable"

He laughs a laugh that makes your stomach quiver. That smile you know so well but this time there's something different.

Your chest fills with something big, an unexpected happiness that you can't contain. You don't need to answer, because he already understands. Instead of speaking, he interlaces his hand with yours and smiles at you. And before you can say anything else, he leans towards you and kisses you.

The kiss is soft, lovingly, gently, full of everything you could never bring yourself to say. His hands go around your back and he embraces you, kissing you endlessly like rain falling outside of you.

When you pull apart, he rests his forehead on yours and murmurs.

"Are we still best friends, love?"

Your heart warms when you hear that word. Love. Spoken by him, your best friend, the love of your life.

"You'll always be my best friend, Oscar" you say, smiling with such feeling.

And yoy look at each other again, as if the world were just that little piece of space where everything finally makes sense.

"Let's go, you have to change so you don't catch a cold" he holds your hand tightly.

And without giving you time to think, he drags you back into the rain.

You both run in the downpour not caring about the cold or the stares of the people. You laugh, scream, push each other like children, while the water continues to soak you completely. But now everything is different. Every drop on your skin, every shared laugh, every accelerated heartbeat in your chest carries a new meaning.

As you pull into the garage, you stop in the driveway, your breath hitching, your clothes clinging to your body. You look up at him and he looks back at you with a smile, with that expression you now recognize. His hand holds yours tightly and they walk inside the place.

"Where have you been?" you hear Lando's question. His gaze moves to your hands and he smiles, making a mischievous face. "It's about time, lovebirds"

An encouraging smile on Lando's face makes them blush as you hide your face behind Oscar's back. You even listen as he scolds Lando not to embarrass you.

But your heart is still racing like every time you see Oscar and you're happy that you've taken the next step. Because you've been in love with him since you were little, how could you not be? Oscar is someone kind, understanding and caring. He was the one who knew everything about you and who you trusted the most.

Everything has changed and at the same time, everything is still the same. But inside you, you know that this is just the beginning.

[ynsbrightorbs]

Hi, could you write sfw and nsfw headcanons for hange? (as a person and as a partner)

✧˚ · .HANGE HEADCANONS - SFW & NSFW༉‧₊˚.

an: i realize i ended up going modern au with it so my apologies if you meant canon hange </3

MINORS DNI !!

𖹭.ᐟ Hange is a sensitive person, though they often try to discount this through humor. Their sarcasm is rich and they love to mimic and mock when they’re actively being teased or proven wrong. Deep down, they’re fragile, and they take impersonal things to heart, ruminating for weeks after. 

𖹭.ᐟ Hange is charismatic, but clumsily. They often stutter or stammer or slur their words. They try to carry on the conversation, but sometimes it gets so bad they retreat into silence. This doesn’t stop them though, they love to banter. Depending on the topic of conversation, they could talk for hours about many things - not even just their interests. They love expanding their opinions and points of views by opposing sides. 

𖹭.ᐟ Hange often forgets how to use their body - in a way where they often bump into things, often tripping with feet too large or legs taking too big of a step. They’re very wrapped up in their head most of the time, thinking too much too fast, that the physical world becomes secondary to them.

𖹭.ᐟ Hange likes to doodle. They’re not good at it, but they enjoy drawing people very stylishly, often giving people upbeat and silly expressions opposed to the saddened ones these strangers wear. As a partner, they leave sticky note doodles on the fridge for you to see. The collections pile up every month but you can’t toss them; you paste them in a scrapbook instead. 

𖹭.ᐟ Hange grew up without proper resources. They were made fun of in school for tattered clothing and greasy hair. As an adult, Hange prides themself in hygiene. They shower twice a day and flat iron their clothes. As a partner, you’ve witnessed how dirtiness makes them antsy. Not in a compulsive way, but they can become irritated in environments that remind them of their childhood. 

𖹭.ᐟ Hange hates drinking water. They understand how vital and beneficial it is, that’s often their first piece of advice when you complain about headaches, but personally they rarely drink it. They keep flavor packets in their bag and always keep the fridge stocked with sodas. You often have to bribe them with affection to drink enough water.

𖹭.ᐟ Hange collects a lot of random things. They have a shoebox full of river rocks, a desk drawer with tons of magnets they don’t use, and their dresser has a place dedicated just for their neatly organized socks. 

𖹭.ᐟ Hange is independently codependent. They never admit how much they rely on you and swear up and down they don’t at all; but if you stay the night with a friend, if you visit home or are simply too busy for long periods of time, they start to miss you so badly it feels like a physical presence in their chest. Like you’ve been removed from them under the knife. 

𖹭.ᐟ Hange is generous. They always share their fries with you, even if you claimed not to be hungry when they ordered them in the first place. They don’t get off on the praise from people, they enjoy the feeling of being needed in some small, miniscule way. They savor how your face softens and melts whenever they surprise you, whenever they pick something up for you on the way home because you had simply mentioned it earlier. They notice. 

𖹭.ᐟ Hange is attentive. They notice when your moods shift, when the sun gets too hot, or when their belongings are slightly out of place. Change affects them greatly, due to their sensitivities. So they try their best to stick to a routine. They’ve had the same routine for years, and now they’ve added you into it.

𖹭.ᐟ Hange is a gentle partner. They’re inexperienced and awkward and that makes intimacy with them like a game to be played. You were the first person to ever go down on them and they struggled to comprehend why you’d want to. They were fine - more than fine, they indulge in you - with the other way around, so when you first got on your knees for them they simply wanted you to stand so they could reach your lips again.

𖹭.ᐟ Hange takes their time with you. They’re never in a rush with sex, because sex to them isn’t just about pleasure. Sex to them is an experiment to see just how much you can give. 

𖹭.ᐟ Hange doesn’t ask for anything. They’re tall and awkward in their body. Often they tell you how they feel like an alien in a human suit, so fucking them becomes a special occasion. They don’t like penetration, they like your mouth and the fascinating toys you’ve collected. 

𖹭.ᐟ Hange’s a hair puller. They become lost within themself when they’re about to cum and they release this tension by gripping the roots at the back of your head. They enjoy how, even when you have their swollenness between your lips, they can still remain in control. 

𖹭.ᐟ Hange adores the way you sound and all their efforts are to hear you whimper just one more time. 

𖹭.ᐟ Hange likes tribbing with you and only you. They trust you so completely that they aren’t scared to be so vulnerable with another person, as long as it’s you. They’re bigger than average and when the heat of the room becomes so thick you swear you can feel them slipping inside you. They become so engorged that with your cum still spread over them, you simply have to take them into your mouth afterwards. 

𖹭.ᐟ Hange isn’t much into kinks, but their heart shivers when you beg. It’s useless though, they’re a fool for you and they only need to hear a single plea before they conform to your every wish and desire. 

𖹭.ᐟ Hange relishes in aftercare. They honestly seem to prefer it more than the sex itself. They like how easily you fit into them, how easily your cheek rests on their labored chest. They like how soft you become, how worn and sleepily you yawn - as if you hadn’t just lied there for them.

𖹭.ᐟ Hange likes to kiss you as if it’s the last time they’ll ever get the chance to. Once the two of you laid together in a sex-numb stupor for hours simply kissing; at times they just wanted to keep your lips on theirs, to remind them you’re still theirs. 

𖹭.ᐟ Hange likes tea but they prefer coffee. They’ll make two mugs worth while you catch yourself in bed and bring it to you with steam still tendriling over its sides. 

𖹭.ᐟ Hange, in the most simplest of terms, adores you. They adore the way you look and the sound of your breathing. They like to take pictures of you like this, just for them to keep. Not for any lewd reasons, but just because they think you’re grand. Like you’re the most devastatingly beautiful thing in this world. 

[thru-the-grapevine]

Deep End

Pairing: Choi Soobin x fem!reader

Summary: Soobin thinks you could be the most dangerous thing to ever happen to him, if he let you (or: not even the ambience of a city rooftop can distract Soobin from you).

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags/Warnings: mature content (minors dni), pwfwp (porn with feelings without plot), public sex, established relationship, man is a simp

Author’s Note: the lovely @chanis-banani has allowed me to post the birthday gift I made for her 🥰 I played myself by writing it for her because now I’m kinda nuts about him too. Whoops.

Soobin has never been a particularly possessive or territorial person before, so he’s unprepared for how it feels to see you in his shirt.

He watches you in the reflection of the hotel elevator, mesmerized. The shirt is a button-down, oversized even on Soobin. He’d helped you roll up each sleeve four times just to give your wrists some breathing room, and from how it fits on you, it gives the appearance that it’s the only thing you’re wearing at all. He’s trying very hard not to stare at your bare legs, focusing in on your little painted toenails to try and stay respectful. He’s not sure if it’s working. Nothing feels respectful about the way he looks at you these days.

The two of you are on a weekend trip to the city together, seizing the opportunity for quality time alone during a rare time when neither of you have anything in your schedules. You’d suggested pretending it was a fancy weekend, and Soobin had taken you at your word and sprung for a nicer hotel than usual, particularly because of how your face had lit up at the idea of a rooftop pool.

The two of you are on the way to this pool now, and instead of wearing normal clothes over your swimsuit, you’d insisted on borrowing one of his shirts. He’d agreed without really thinking about it, and once the sleeves were rolled up you’d declared it was perfect.

Soobin can’t disagree, either, because he can’t stop looking at you in it. Something about it being your idea makes it even better. He likes the way you look in it, but in a way he didn’t expect. Some sort of base instinct in his gut is glowing, seeing you in something of his.

Then again, you’ve always fascinated him, even before the two of you began seeing each other. You’ve always lit up every room he sees you in, something about how you carry yourself drawing the klutzy moth of him to you like flame. He’s never wanted to know so much about another person before. He loves learning every little thing that makes you laugh, that makes you chatty, that incites reactions in you.

He can’t believe he convinced you to say yes when he asked you out, amazed you allowed him to keep coming back for more. He feels like a naturalist who got outrageously lucky enough to get close to their favorite beloved wildlife, like he has to drink in and take note of everything he can get of you in case you spook and flee. Like he can puzzle out the mystery of you if he studies you closely enough.

You catch him staring in the reflection and make a silly face. He grins and makes one back, shifting closer to you and watching his reflection drape an arm over your shoulders. He’s realizing recently how often you draw him in, how he’s always looking for reasons to be as close to you as he can. If he really was a moth, he’d be scorched to a crisp by now.

He can feel you practically vibrating with excitement as the two of you step out onto the roof. There’s a huge grin on your face as you gaze around with eyes so big that Soobin knows you wish you had more of them to take it all in.

“Not too shabby, then?” He asks, charmed at the way you flit from place to place, exploring.

“What do you mean, not too shabby? It’s perfect,” you gush, gesturing from thing to thing and bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Look at the view, ugh, it’s so—and the pool? It’s perfect, the water is so pretty, it’s all so pretty here at night, look at all the other buildings lit up, I’m just—!”

You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, face still aglow. “Okay. Calming down.”

He grins, making his way to a chaise lounge near the pool and sitting. “That’s the spirit.”

“Why is it so empty up here on a night like this?” You wonder, staring up and around at the nearby buildings and night sky.

A private smile twitches at the corner of Soobin’s mouth. “Yeah, seems way too nice out not to be up here.”

“Definitely nice enough to swim,” you muse, turning to him and batting your eyes once. “You’ll swim with me, right?”

It was never a question that he would, but Soobin feigns uncertainty. “Hmm...”

“Just for a little bit,” you insist, shoulders slumping, and he can’t help laughing.

“’Course, that’s why we came up here.”

You pout at him, making your way over to his chair. “Rude.”

He watches you approach, endeared at the little frown line between your brows when you pout, how it makes your lips even more distracting. “You’re just easy to bother.”

You make a face at him. “Just for that, you can have your shirt back.”

His mouth goes a little dry when your hands go to the top button, fiddling.

“Oh no, please, anything but that,” he tries to deadpan, but his voice rasps.

You roll your eyes, amused, as you pop the first button. “Perv.”

He can’t even refute you. It’s like erotic torture, watching you unbutton the shirt—his shirt; god, that really is doing things to him. The buttons are on the opposite placket than you’re used to, which means you move slower, and Soobin watches in an agony of lust as inch after inch of your skin is revealed.

You shrug the shirt off when it’s finally unbuttoned, tossing it into his lap and wandering to the edge of the pool. He tries to get himself back under control, but your swimsuit leaves so much less to the imagination than anything else he usually sees you wear that it’s impossible.

You look back over your shoulder at him, pausing on the steps descending into the water. “You coming?”

He nods, dazed.

You raise an eyebrow, smirk teasing the corners of your mouth. “You good?”

That depends heavily on what “good” means. He considers saying this, knows you’ll enjoy the philosophical banter, but when he opens his mouth his throat is too dry to speak. He shuts his mouth and clears his throat, giving up. “I...yeah. Great.”

His face feels hot when you wink at him, tip of your tongue between your teeth. Jesus.

He watches you wade down into the pool and tries to think of boring things, like taxes and bylaws and coding instructions, anything but how breathtaking every inch of you is. It doesn’t work, especially when you dip beneath the surface briefly, then come back up, swiping your hair back from your face more flawlessly than any model.

“Water’s fine,” you murmur, and something in your expression makes him think you’re fully aware that he’s wrapped around your little finger.

Maybe the water will clear his head. He grabs the scruff of his shirt and yanks it over his head. “Coming.”

He doesn’t bother with the steps, heads straight for the deep end and hops in. The cool water is a welcome shock to his system, as well as the muted quiet of underwater. He lingers near the bottom, waiting until his lungs ache for air to push back towards the shallow end.

When he resurfaces, you’re floating on your back, gazing up at the night sky. He swipes his hair out of his face and rises to his full height, angling to see you better. You have your mouth pursed in a specific way to keep from inhaling water, and your hair splays out around your head in the water in gentle, undulating waves, Medusa-style. There are little twinkling reflections in your eyes of the world you’re drinking in above you. Bliss in your face.

Oh no, a voice in the back of Soobin’s mind says, and looking at you feels like he’s made of glass and is being shoved off a high ledge. But Soobin can’t bring himself to be frightened, can only concentrate on the pleasant swoop in his stomach as he plummets. He thinks he might enjoy being shattered by you.

You jerk in surprise when you catch him watching you, a thrash of water. “Jesus.”

He feels a grin tugging at his lips. “Sorry,” he says, not sorry at all.

“Why are you just standing there staring, you weirdo?” You move upright again, and your mad scientist hair flattens into a streaming curtain down your back. Pale blue pool light reflects in little waves over your skin, and Soobin would believe someone in this moment if they told him you were a water goddess.

He can’t tear his gaze away from you, still grinning like a fool. “You’re interesting.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing smile back on your face.

“Interesting, huh.”

“Mhm.” He starts wading your way at that dreamlike pace water always demands. Moth, meet flame.

“Me, or my tits?”

“I—that wasn’t what—” Soobin stammers. “What—I hadn’t even looked at—”

And he hadn’t, truly. Except of course they’re now at the forefront of his mind, now that you’ve mentioned them, and invisible magnetism keeps tempting his gaze down, a losing fight with the thought of them right at the top of his brain, and now he’s noticing your chest, half-submerged, the gleam of soaked skin and droplets in tantalizing places, noticing the wet cling of swimsuit fabric to curving soft skin. He wonders how it might feel to glide his hands over and under and around, whether you would feel cool or warm under his mouth, and his mind hadn’t been on this track two seconds ago, it really hadn’t...

He hears you snort, tears his gaze back to your face, schoolboy guilt bunched in his stomach.

“Mmhmm,” you say, unbelieving. Your pleased little grin eases the shame, a balm on his heart.

“Yah, I really wasn’t,” he protests. “...but now that you mention it...”

Your snicker is cute, everything about you is so cute, and when did this happen, how did this happen, how did you become the most irresistible thing in Soobin’s world without him catching whiff of it before?

You surprise him when you lunge for him when he’s close enough, your arms flinging around his neck, soft mouth covering his. Like kissing him is a relief, like to you he’s something special, something to look forward to. He’s not going to question why, even if his own appeal to you puzzles him, just pulls you closer with his hands on your hips and kisses you back.

You pull back far too quickly, and he frowns, missing you already. He’s immediately distracted, though, at the delicate feeling of your fingertips ruffling in the soggy strands of his hair.

“Thanks for springing for this place,” you murmur, grateful little smile on your face. “I love it.”

“’Course, baby,” he hums, trying not to feel too smug for nailing it. All of it was worth it just for this.

Your gaze follows a droplet of water traveling down his neck and over his chest. One of your hands leaves his hair, tracing the wing of his collarbone gently.

“You’re really hot when you’re all wet,” you admit, floating off your feet and hooking your legs around his waist.

Your positioning immediately stokes his carnal interest. He blinks, dazed grin spreading slowly over his face.

“Only when I’m all wet?” He teases, hands on a slow glide from your hips to cup beneath your thighs, holding you in place.

You tsk at him, fingers still playing in slow, hypnotic patterns through his hair and over his chest. “Fishing for compliments? Don’t tell me you don’t hear them all the time. We know what you look like.”

He loves watching your mouth when you talk. The shape of your lips is something he’s constantly cataloguing for long-term memory, both from looking at and feeling them with his own.

“I only ever want your compliments,” he says absently, thumbs drawing little circles on your thighs, completely mesmerized. “They’re the only ones that count.”

He can see the reflection of the flickering surface of the pool in your eyes. Something thrills in his chest when the edges of your smile turn a little shy.

“Flirt,” you murmur, leaning in closer.

He blinks, drawing the tip of his nose along yours slowly. He can’t remember what he said. He should try to remember, should take it down to use later, but you’re quite literally hanging all over him and you’re all wet in a swimsuit and your mouth is only inches away and he is not God’s strongest soldier, after all.

He leans down and fastens his mouth over yours, kissing you like he has all the time in the world. It’s quickly becoming one of his favorite things to do, finding all the ways your mouths can fit together. He teases the tip of his tongue along your lower lip, heart racing when you sigh into his mouth and open for him. God. The taste of you, mingled with pool water and the lip balm you’d borrowed from him earlier, is enough to turn off all the thoughts in his brain.

Mouth still playing over yours, he wades slowly backward, inching towards the pool steps, crouching as the water gets shallow to keep you both weightless in the water. His heel knocks against the bottom step and he stumbles back, kiss breaking as he sits down hard.

Your little giggle goes straight to his crotch for reasons he can’t decipher. He grins, sheepish, lifts himself up to sit on the next-highest step, reaching for your hips and reeling you back in. You straddle his lap without him even having to ask, more proof to his mind that you’re perfect, and when he tilts his chin up you meet him halfway.

Everything about you in his arms feels right, and Soobin feels something unidentifiable deep within him settling into place. All his senses are honed in on you, on your mouth moving with his, on the gentle chaos of your breath, on the soft suppleness of you relaxing into him as he kisses you with slow, consuming ardor. His hands slide in restless patterns over you, and eventually his mouth parts from yours and drags along the line of your jaw.

“For the record,” he murmurs, pausing to nip softly at your earlobe, “you’re really hot when you’re all wet, too.”

Your laugh is breathless, a bolt of heat to his gut. “Only when I’m all wet?”

“Especially when you’re all wet,” he whispers, nuzzling against the hollow beneath your ear, savoring how you shiver.

Your skin is cool beneath his mouth, and he makes it a personal mission to warm it again, openmouthed kisses gliding smooth and wet and hot along the expanse of your neck, the curve of your shoulder, the wing of your collarbone. He feels you hum and relax further into his lap, tension in your muscles melting you closer against him, candle wax near open flame. He marvels innocently at how incredibly silky you are, even over firmer places, how there’s a hint of you behind the chlorine on your skin, and he needs more of it, feels an itch in his brain for more you in his senses.

“Hey,” you protest halfheartedly as he fumbles with the ties of your swimsuit top. “This is a public pool, someone could come up.”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, hearing the words purely at a sound level, feeling the ties come loose in his hands with a slithery tickle. He nuzzles into the inside curve of your breast, nudging fabric away from wet skin, mouth slipping along the plush undercurve. Pure fascination wins out as he opens his mouth wider, bites, sucks.

He feels you twitch in surprise at the feeling, soothes his hands along your back in half-apology, laser-focused on the feel, the taste of you in his mouth. You’re sensitive here, not as excruciatingly sensitive as your nipples, but that just means he doesn’t have to be as careful, can let his curiosity at the feeling of you win unrestricted.

He continues nibbling and sucking in that spot, slides a hand around to your front and tugs the now-loose top away, tossing it behind him blindly. He feels your hands tighten on his shoulders when he settles his hand back on you, cupping your other breast. He eases the pad of his thumb in gentle circles over your areola, mesmerized at the way the skin puckers and tightens to a point under the lazy caress. He hears you swallow back a moan, feels one of your hands slide up and weave fingers through his hair, and that base instinct deep in his gut puffs its chest knowing that he affects you like this.

He lifts his mouth from your skin with a crude pop, other hand sliding from your back to brush a thumb over the hickey. He knows you love when he leaves them on your neck, but it still makes him shy to know other people will see them and make assumptions about what your love lives are like. This one, however, on this pillowy curve of skin that only the two of you get to see, is right up his alley. Satisfied with how dark it is already, he nuzzles your breast and settles his mouth over your nipple.

The little noise you make is adorable, and Soobin finds himself smiling against your skin. He traces his tongue over the budding peak, unhurried, takes your other nipple between his fingers and pinches until you gasp. He can’t resist rolling it slowly between his fingers, twisting one way and then the other as he circles the other in lazy circles with his tongue.

He hears a frayed whimper in your throat, the helpless wriggle of your hips against his inflaming him further. He’s never been addicted to a person before, but he’s hooked on you for sure, wants to take inventory of every inch of you, every reaction he can incite, every texture and scent and movement. He drags his mouth to your other breast and kisses your poor abused nipple gently, massages it better with his tongue as his hand takes over the one he left behind.

All of you drowns his senses—the cool slipperiness of your skin, the little whines you sigh out, the way you keep cinching yourself closer to him, burying your face against his hair, agonizing friction in your laps. He can’t stop himself from groping your ass and tucking your hips in tighter against his, fascinated by the feeling of your muscles twitching and contracting with desire.

He makes a noise of surprise when your hand in his hair tightens and yanks, angling his face up to yours. You crush your mouth over his, and his hands are immediately all over you, roaming restless paths over every inch of you he can reach, urging you closer. He wants to drown in you, be consumed by you, devour you with all five senses at once and then more.

It’s not enough. He wrenches his mouth from yours, panting, tapping your hip.

“Up,” he pants.

You hesitate only a second before moving off of his lap. He stands quickly and takes your hand, sloshing his way up the remaining steps and out of the pool with you in tow.

You seem to be on the same wavelength, to an extent, matching his pace as he makes his way over to the chairs with your things on them. He guides you in front of him, a twinge of fondness in his chest at the sight of your arm attempting to cover your chest, as if that doesn’t just make them look especially sumptuous, and he wants his hands back on you, wants to test how squishable—

“Down,” he pants, hand nudging your shoulder until you sit on the chaise, then nudging again until you lie back. His other hand is already untying your swim bottoms, one side and then the other, gaze laser-focused as he leans in and presses a kiss low on your abdomen, parting your legs.

“I—wait, ‘Binnie,” you protest, hand coming to his head. “Stop—we are outside, someone could look out a window and see—”

“Don’t care,” he mumbles against your skin, mouth already gliding along the inside of your thigh. The looming buildings nearby, the vague hum of city life stories below, the night sky, the pool, everything is in a foggy haze in Soobin’s mind. His only focus is you, on how downy soft you are, how you shiver as his tongue darts out to catch at water droplets on your skin.

“Easy for you to say, you’re still wearing someth—ah,” you squeak as Soobin yanks your now-completely untied bottoms away, balling them up absently in one hand and hurling them to oblivion. “Wait, I’m serious, Soobinnnnnnngh.”

He groans into the apex of your thighs, mouth open wide and tongue flattened along as much of you as possible. God, yes, this is exactly what he’s after, concentration and essence of you overwhelming his senses. Slowly, he curls the tip of his tongue, dragging his mouth up, the motion gently parting wet layers of inner softness. You slap a hand over your mouth, moaning as the tip of his tongue laves over the sensitive crest at the very peak, and he lingers there for a moment, leaving an openmouthed kiss.

Blindly, he fumbles above him, finding your arm and pulling your hand away from your mouth, anchoring your wrist to the chaise. He feels your other hand tighten hard in his hair as he continues leaving wet, sucking kisses all over the sensitive tucks and pleats of flesh, working you up with ruthless patience.

He daydreams about this more often than he cares to admit, even more so when the two of you are apart, and he’s determined to learn and implement the way you like it best, the way that makes you lose all sense of shame. Admittedly, he gets a little carried away in part because you’ve told him your former partners were merely passable at eating you out. His competitive streak, combined with this growing obsession with you, make him determined to be extra attentive whenever you grant him this opportunity.

It’s difficult to stay focused, though, the hot and wet feel of you on his mouth, the taste of you on his tongue, enough to make him delirious. He easily gets lost in the savoring, mapping every inch of you under his tongue, lingering in places just because it makes you tremble and whine like you’re desperate for him, and he wants you just as desperate for him as he feels about you.

He hums into you, delighted, when your legs close in around his head as he closes his mouth over your clit and sucks. Everything goes muffled, even the little moans of his name you’re trying to bite back, but it hardly matters when he can feel your limbs shaking, feel you hot and throbbing against his mouth. You start trying to buck your hips into his face, and he slides his free arm over your abdomen and pins you down, steadying you both. He tongues over you in wet, languid strokes, feels the clenching flutter of the entrance into your body. Pure fascination drives him again, and he strokes you there again, stiffening his tongue and driving it into you.

Oh, god. The tight, blistering heat of you, the taste, nearly unmans him. He moans into you, guttural, and nearly loses his mind at the way he can feel your inner muscles fluttering and clenching rhythmically on his tongue like a heartbeat.

The overwhelming need to make you come slams into him like a tidal wave. He’s determined now, anchoring you in place and delving his tongue into you in delicately aggressive thrusts, nuzzling into you deeper and deeper. He can hear you whining even with your thighs muffling his ears, the sound increasingly desperate, and he wants to give you anything in the whole world that you want, would roll over and bark if you asked, so he doubles his efforts and slides his mouth back up to suck and tongue at that most sensitive bud, wringing sensation like raw honey from the comb.

He wonders for a brief moment if he could come just like this, completely untouched with his face buried between your legs, moaning into you like your pleasure is his own, and if that makes him a munch then so be it. And then you tense and tighten against him for a full moment and the pleasure uncoils, your whole body arching and shuddering in euphoria. He shoves his tongue back into you and moans, lightheaded at each of the siphoning ripples of fulfillment pulling him in deeper, drunk on the little sobs of pleasure you make.

God. He’s never wanted anything as much as he wants to be wrapped up in you right the fuck now. He eases you through the quaking pulses of ecstasy and starts fumbling with the drawstring of his swimsuit, taking care not to touch himself for fear of blowing his load in his pants like a teenager. Raw need claws at his insides like a rabid animal, desire to make sure everything is perfect for you warring against his impatience, his craving to skip over things like a condom and gentleness and—

Condom. Oh. He remembers reminding himself to grab one, remembers seeing the box of them tucked into his bag and knowing one would be needed, and yet here he is, empty-handed. Fuck.

“We have to go back to the room,” he groans, leaning back and mopping his chin with the back of his hand. “Now. I need to be in you more than I need to live another day.”

Through your pleasured exhaustion, a lazy smile forms on your lips. You shake your head, glancing over and gesturing at his dress shirt you’d borrowed.

“Don’t need to go back downstairs,” you breathe, and fuck, your post-orgasm voice is devastatingly sexy. “Get the shirt, I brought a condom.”

He blinks at you, once, twice, not comprehending. “You...”

Color flushes over your skin prettily. “I...I thought it never hurts to be prepared. For anything.”

Soobin is trying to process that you’ve had a plan for being up here that involves a condom. Dazed, he glances over at the neighboring chaise, reaches for the shirt.

“Is there a condom...in the shirt...?”

Your breathless giggle ties his insides into little knots.

“You didn’t notice the weird shape in the breast pocket earlier?” You ask, eyes crinkled in mirth.

Through the haze of oh my god she wants us to fuck, Soobin finds it in him to be indignant again. “I wasn’t looking at—I was trying not to look, you know, at...”

He huffs a sigh as he extracts the condom from the shirt pocket, unable to stay annoyed even as you keep giggling at him.

“Here I was trying to be respectful,” he tsks, smiling even as his ears grow hot.

You snort. “Ah yes, the respectful boyfriend that strips his girlfriend at a public pool and commits sex acts on her where anyone could stumble in on them.”

“No one’s going to stumble in,” Soobin breathes, trying to make his hands dry enough to tear the condom packet open.

“What do you mean?”

“Pool’s closed,” he says, giving up and tearing at the packet with his teeth.

“The pool is closed? Are we going to get in trouble for—”

“It’s not really closed,” he says. “I just paid the front desk to tell the rest of the hotel guests that it’s closed.”

You stare at him for so long in stunned silence that he starts feeling a little antsy. “You bribed the hotel...so you could have sex with me?”

“I would bribe anyone with anything to spend even five platonic minutes alone with you,” he protests, fumbling the condom out of the wrapper.

He stills when you grab his wrist, arresting him with your stare. There’s something at work behind your eyes, something he doesn’t know the name for.

“What?” He whispers.

After a long moment, you swallow. “Nothing. I just...no, nothing. Here, let me.”

You keep eye contact as you slip the condom out of his hand, and he shivers when your other hand brushes down his abdomen. His breath stutters when you take hold of him, and he feels himself twitch in your hand after going so long neglecting himself.

If he doesn’t redirect his attention he may still finish before he can even get inside you. “People might—might still be able to see from windows,” he stammers as you roll the condom on, spreading your legs.

You shrug a shoulder, abashed smile still on your face. “If they see, they see,” you breathe.

Sometimes you make him breathless.

“Remind me not to believe you,” he murmurs, settling himself between your legs, “when you say you’re too shy to do this out in the open.”

You laugh as he drags his tip over you, catching on your entrance. “Don’t push it, this is a special ca—ohh.”

Ohh, indeed. Soobin moans and drops his forehead against your temple, feeling what little remains of his sanity obliterating the further inside he eases into you. You’ve been intimate like this before, but no matter how prepared Soobin thinks he is, every time feels like the first time all over again. Nothing ever truly prepares him for the scalding hot, wet glide into unimaginable tightness, for how even when you’re relaxed, he has to bully himself into you inch by inch. He’s shaking with the effort to be gentle, nudges his hips slowly until bit by bit, all of him is enveloped snugly inside.

“How can you feel this perfect,” he groans, most of the willpower left at his disposal exerted on lasting, good god he needs to last even just to feel you around him like this for longer—

You laugh again, breathless, and the way that feels when you’re connected like this is sinfully good. “I try.”

“No you don’t,” he gasps, rocking his hips gingerly into yours. “You just are.”

You whimper as the angle of his hips drives him into a sensitive place inside of you. He grinds into the spot again, careful, his restraint threadbare but hanging on.

“Please,” you pant, hitching your knees further up, and the adjustment of angle forcing him even deeper.

Soobin nearly chokes on his own tongue. Fuck. He thrusts like he’s afraid of himself, mantra of don’t come don’t come don’t come flooding the forefront of his mind, sheer force of will.

“I won’t break,” you plead, voice so breathy and fucked-out it belongs in high-end porn. Sweet merciful god, he can’t do this.

He feels your mouth drag along his shoulder, and then a flash of sharpness. His body reacts to the bite before his mind can catch up, hips surging hard against yours, strangled noise punching out of his throat. Your legs tighten around him, intimate muscles clenching in that way that means hell yes, and the groan from deep in his chest is inevitable as he snaps his hips again. Fuck.

Yeah, okay, he can do this for you. That base instinct in his gut purrs like a feral dragon at the way you can no longer hide your moans, being fucked like this. His new goal now is to build stamina, he’s determined, needs to be able to do you exactly how you want it for hours without stopping. He thinks he might be moaning too but he can’t hear, so preoccupied with drinking in every clench of your muscles around him, every little pleasured expression on your face, addiction to every part of you wrapped around him like this so intense he feels lightheaded.

He can’t tell if you’re shaking or he is, only knows you’re pulling him in like you aren’t already as close as it is humanly possible to be, like that somehow isn’t enough, like you can meld yourselves into a singular being if you try hard enough. Your fingernails dig hard into his shoulders, your breath stuttering in that way that tells him just what’s coming next, and then you shatter around him.

You become impossibly tighter around him, bearing down with rhythmic spasms luring him deeper inside, as if that’s even possible, like he hasn’t been working himself as deep into you as he can go, purely for selfish reasons. He never wants to leave, would live inside you if he could, and he loves that you get like this with him, loves the way you go soft and pliant when the release begins ebbing, god, he loves—

His release hits him with no warning, no buildup, hard as a bullet train. Fuck. It feels like nothing that’s ever happened to him before, and a stab of panic electrocutes him through the feeling. His ears are ringing, alarm bells tolling danger in his bones, and he feels out of control, completely gone, glass making impact at last and shattering into far-flung pieces, impossible to gather again. It’s all he can do to gasp for breath, clutching at you like handfuls of sand that keep slipping away, hips rocking into you, slow, rhythmic, with a mind of their own.

Your arms slide around his back, warm pressure like an anchor point, and just with that, with your tight embrace and each deep breath you take, you’ve found each piece of him, binding him back together. Only now the essence of you fills in the cracks, the healing balm, each sinew of him now limned with your glow. A moth made of flame.

Soobin tries to take as even breaths as possible, tries to sound calm, rests his face against the chaise next to your face and feels a hot stinging drip from his eyelashes.

He knows what that look in your eyes was earlier, he realizes. The unidentifiable emotion. He knows because it’s clicking for him right now, the knowledge that he feels that way, too.

Admin Ellie’s Masterlist

[vanteguccir]

Bsf!Matt gets a boner from seeing you in a bikini

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤBIKINI'S AND BONER'S * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Matt gets flustered and turned on after seeing Y/N in a bikini

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader

WARNINGS　::　having a boner, +18 thoughts.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The sea breeze was fresh and carried the salty scent of the waves breaking on the sand. The sun shone high, promising a perfect day to be at the beach. Y/N, Matt, Nick, and Chris walked together toward the sea, silly comments and laughter filling the air.

"Finally, the beach!!" Y/N raising her arms while laughing before tossing the small beach ball in her hands to Nick.

"You go, mermaid." Nick replied, catching the ball with an easy grin.

The four reached a perfect spot and began spreading their towels on the sand. Chris quickly took off his shirt and ran to the sea like a kid, followed by Nick. Matt and Y/N stayed behind for a bit, organizing their things more calmly.

"Do you want help with the sunscreen?" Matt asked, holding the tube he fished out of his own bag.

"Sure, thanks." Y/N smiled.

She began to remove the clothes covering her bikini. First, her oversized shirt, then her denim shorts. Matt froze for a moment, eyes wide as he watched the scene, his gaze following her every move as if the time drastically slowed.

Her bikini was simple, It had no drawings or embroidery, carrying only one strong color, but highlighted her curves in a way he couldn't look away from. His heart raced, and he felt his face start to heat up.

"Uhm… you… look great." He stammered, trying to maintain his composure. He wrinkled his nose and squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, mentally slapping himself as he wondered where he got the courage to even say that.

"Thanks." She replied, a playful smile on her face. "Now, the sunscreen."

Matt nodded, trying to focus on the task at hand. He started spreading the cream on her back, his fingers gliding over her warm skin, the scent of sunscreen filling their nostrils. Y/N seemed relaxed, enjoying his care.

"Are you okay?" She asked, noticing the small but strong puffs of breath hit the skin of her shoulders every few seconds.

"Yeah, of course." He lied, his voice sounding a bit too loud. "It's just… it's a hot day, right?"

She laughed.

"Yes, very hot."

Finally, Matt finished applying the sunscreen, and Y/N turned to thank him. Her eyes met his, and she noticed the slight blush on his cheeks.

"Are you really okay, Matt? You look kind of… red."

He nervously ran a hand through his hair, laughing breathlessly.

"I'm fine, really. Just… uhm, strong sun, you know?"

Before she could respond, Chris and Nick returned from the water, dripping and laughing.

"Are you two going to stand there all day or get in the water?" Chris teased.

Y/N looked at Matt, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Come on, Matt. Let's cool off."

She pulled his hand, and Matt followed her like a lost puppy, trying to ignore the heat he still felt on his face.

As they entered the water, he felt the coolness helping him calm down a bit. Nick and Chris were playing like children, splashing water at each other, and soon, Y/N joined them, laughing loudly.

Matt stood back for a moment, unable to help himself as his eyes roamed over her body, stopping for more seconds than necessary on her tits bouncing with her movements.

He found himself licking his lips, feeling discomfort in his lower area that made him blush deeply, gulping loudly. He was completely lost in the sight of her, his mind clouded with thoughts he knew he shouldn't be having.

His heart pounded in his chest, and he tried to shake off the feeling, diving more into the water to cool off. But even the cold water couldn't completely wash away the warmth spreading through him.

He desperately needed to get his mind off of Y/N and her perfect body.

© vanteguccir

[pagelets]

Maroon- C.B

Disclaimer: smut, toxic relationship (idk what else to call it), scratches and cuts (nothing too serious).

Word count: 20.1k

Playlist (guys this playlist is the whole core of this story, really 😭)

Note: Happy Beomgyu day!!! Today, 24 years ago, this beautiful soul was born. He makes me smile, he makes me laugh, he even made me choke on water when he came back from vacations. I love everything about him from his physical features to his funny side but also his emotional one. I love him so much 😭 this is my first year celebrating his bday but i hope i can celebrate many more. Enjoy this little silly fic i made for celebrating the day 🫶

Thank you @nanahachi3 for letting me use a little of your drama in my story. The rest of it is basically based on my pathetic love life 👍

The bell rings, loud and persistent, signaling the start of the last first period of the semester. A sea of students moves through the hallways, heading for their classrooms, arms linked with their friends, talking about their summer plans, filled with excitement for the ending of the semester. But you— you remain still, eyes fixed on the two figures in front of you. 

On her, leaning against the wall, and on him, with his hand pressed against it just above her head, cornering her.The depth in their gaze, the soft smiles they share, the gentle way his hand holds her chin, drawing her closer— it hurts. Their happiness pierces you, almost cuts you physically.

Your vision blurs, and the rest of the hallway spins, like a faded memory of an old dream, in which you can barely see, barely understand anything. Your skin feels the warmth of tears, rolling down, salty, dripping from your jaw. Your fingers loosen around the strap of your bag, and your feet move in the opposite direction. Fast. Running away, as far as possible from him— Jeon Wonwoo.

As you roam without direction through the almost endless college hallway, you ask yourself why— why you care so much about this? After all, Wonwoo is just a nerd who only cares about two things: his physics book and his stupid band— Seventeen. And well… now, about her too. But who cares, right? You’re more than he deserves. You’re smart, funny, beautiful, the best in class— everyone agrees. You have your own friends, your own projects to take care of, to focus on, things far more important than a boring boy like him. And yet… why does it hurt so much that he chose her and not you?

Apparently, you care.

The tears and the run make your lungs burn, so you stop and lean your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath. You inhale deeply, telling yourself it's not worth it crying over him, when you realize where your feet have led you— the campus skatepark, the "home" of the skaters. Those long haired boys, with their baggy clothes, attractive faces, and ridiculously stupid minds. You’ve never understood why anyone would do something as dangerous as skateboarding for fun— it doesn’t make sense. You straighten your back and let out a sarcastic chuckle, “Pathetic”. Then, you turn to walk away, but suddenly, everything around you spins again, and you feel your body being pulled back.

Like in a freefall, you’re about to hit the ground, with nothing to do but close your eyes, protect your head, and pray no one sees or records your fall. That’s what you do, closing your eyes and waiting to feel the concrete hit your ass. But then, you feel everything stop. You feel a strong arm wrapped around your waist and a fruity and floral scent of pomegranate with yuzu and peony with magnolia, alluring your senses. You slowly open your eyes to see an angelic face, yet carrying an expression of concern. His long, black hair with highlights sticks to his sweaty forehead, and his brown eyes scan your face, trying to decipher something.

For a moment, you think you’ve died and ended up in paradise, because the man in front of you doesn’t seem real, and even the exact moment he appeared doesn’t seem real, “Are you okay, miss?”. His voice is deep, husky and carries the same concern as his expression. You open your mouth and close it repeatedly, unsure of what to say,  “D-did I... die?”. Of course when you manage to say something, it's a silly question. But he doesn’t seem to agree, because he laughs, “No. Don’t worry, you’re still alive”, he says with a playful tone before helping you straighten up, “Not sure if that’s a good thing,” you mutter, “Hum?” “Nothing, never mind”. You straighten your skirt and look around, trying to figure out what happened to make you slip like that, “What happened?”, you ask.  

He gulps and rubs the back of his neck, “Well… you kinda... hum, tripped over my skateboard”, his voice fades as he finishes the sentence, “Sorry about that”. Your eyes spot the skateboard under his arm, “Oh. You skateboard?”, there’s disdain in your tone, but he doesn’t seem to care. “Yeah! Want to see some tricks?”, he says excited, like a kid who just got a birthday present, “No, thanks” “Oh, come on! Just a few tricks. As an apology” “I don’t see how that could be an apology…” “Great! Check it out”. He interrupts you, pointing to the skate park, “But I didn’t say that…”, but he’s no longer listening. He walks past you, gives you a tap on the shoulder, and heads to the ramp.  

You roll your eyes and cross your arms as you turn to watch him, “What’s up with this guy? Just because he’s ridiculously good looking and caught me like in a movie scene, he thinks I’m gonna stay here watching him show off while he risks cracking his head open and dying?”. He waves at you from a distance, you huff and cross your arms as he places the skateboard on the ground and steps on it, getting ready for the trick.

He kicks off with his right foot, and his body disappears down the bowl, “Well… he’s so wrong”. You prepare to turn around and leave, but just as he reappears— almost flying, with one hand raised to the sky and the other holding the skateboard— your jaw hits the floor immediately. Your arms uncross, hanging loosely by your sides, “Or maybe… not so much”. He repeats the trick, this time extending his arm and making a hang loose sign and giving you a goofy grin. You can’t help but laugh. But when the skateboard hits the ramp again, it slips and the skater boy falls into the bowl. The loud bang echoes through the area.

You gasp, covering your mouth with your hand before rushing to him, calling out, “Oh my god! Hey, are you okay?!”. Reaching the top of the ramp, you find his body sprawled on the bowl with the skateboard beside him and his hands resting on his stomach— laughing. Laughing loudly, like a psycho. “W-what…?”, you say, completely confused, “Are you okay?” “Okay?! I’m great, that was insane!”. You roll your eyes— it's typical of a skater to say something like that, “You’re crazy! I thought you died!”. He laughs even harder, even louder. The guy might be nuts, but seeing him laugh so genuinely like that makes something in your chest stir— a laugh? You don’t know how or why, but his laugh is so contagious that you start laughing as a crackhead, just like him.

He opens his eyes, holding his belly from laughing so much, and watches you laugh— the way your shoulders shakes and your eyes become two flat lines as you smile and laugh so brightly captivates him. “You look beautiful when you laugh like that,” he blurts out, without thinking much. You look at him, remains of laughter still in your throat, “What was that?” “You look beautiful when you laugh like that” “Did the fall mess with your sense of reason, man?” “No. You just are”. You blush. How could a guy like him think something like that about you? You clear your throat and quickly change the subject, “Look! You’re bleeding”, you point to his elbow. He glances at it but doesn’t seem to care, used to it, “It’s just a scratch” ““But it’s an open wound, it can get infected. Let me take care of it… as  a thank you for not letting me fall”.

He smiles, not caring about infection, but amused by the fact that you care, “Okay, okay. You can take care of my wound”. You straighten your back, satisfied, then extend your hand to help him up, “Let’s go then…”, he smiles playfully, completely charmed about you, and takes your hand, “Beomgyu. But you can just call me Gyu”.

Beomgyu follows you to your locker like a puppy trailing its owner. He watches you with curious, attentive eyes, as if you were some new creature and he is a researcher studying you while you take a first aid kit out of your locker. He chuckles, "What?" "I can't believe you keep a first aid kit in your locker” "You don’t?", you say nonchalantly, "Of course not" "Well, you should. From what I see, you get hurt often”, your eyes scan his arms, covered in scars, marks, and band-aids. Embarrassed, he quickly covers them with his hands, "Come on, let me see your elbow”, he bends his arm, showing you the wound. You take a sharp breath, "That looks pretty bad” "But you're going to take care of me, aren't you?", he pouts, "If you stay still, I will". He chuckles again, watching as you grab an antiseptic spray and a cotton pad, "This is going to sting," you warn, "That’s fine, I’m tough" "Alright, then". You press the spray lightly, not even releasing anything yet, but he instantly flinches. You raise an eyebrow at him, "Weren’t you tough?" "I am… That was just a reflex” "Sure" "I think I'd feel better if you held my hand," he says, grinning, "Are you serious? You literally flew on that skateboard, and you're scared of antiseptic?" "The skateboard doesn’t sting". You can’t help but laugh, "I promise to stay still if you let me hold your hand” "Promise?", he holds out his pinky finger. You stare at his outstretched finger, "Put that down and stay still, bro. I ain’t gonna hold your hand”, he pouts again, but you couldn't care less. Seeing no other choice, he finally gives in and shows you his injured elbow again.

You finally press the spray and quickly place the cotton underneath to prevent the medicine and blood from running down his entire arm. The antiseptic stings upon contact with his wound, you can tell by the grimace he makes. So you gently blow on it, trying to ease his agony a little. To anyone passing by, you look completely normal, just a girl blowing on a scraped elbow. But to Beomgyu, you’re almost a mirage— no one, besides his mom, has ever cared enough to check on an open wound or offered to clean it for him. Usually, he just washed it in the shower and slapped a bandage on top. But you— you’re right here, applying antiseptic, blowing softly, carefully, like a small, beautiful angel that fell from the sky, that he just happened to break the fall.

And he doesn’t even know your name.

"You haven’t told me your name” "Yn. You can call me that" "Yn”, he repeats, your name echoing down the hallway in his voice, sending a chill down your spine. "What do you study?" "Medicine” "Really?! So you’re literally doctor Yn” "I will be someday” "That explains a lot", he mumbles. You apply the ointment with a cotton swab, thinking about how annoying he is, "Ow!" "Sorry”, you soften your touch. But he doesn’t stop with his annoying questions, "Why aren’t you in class, Yn?" "Why aren’t you in class?", you say without looking up from what you’re doing. He smirks, "Touché", he stays quiet for a few rare seconds, watching as you carefully place a band-aid over his wound. "Is it because of the same reason you were crying?", your eyes snap up to meet his, your face carefully composed, and then— you lie. "I wasn’t crying”, his gaze is sharp, almost as if he could pull the truth straight out of you just by looking. So, you avoid his eyes and focus on organizing your first-aid kit instead. But he doesn't give up, "You were. Your eyes were red and puffy” "It's just… something got in my eye”, he smirks, crossing his arms and leaning against the lockers. "Sure… You failed a test?", you look at him, offended, "I’m a top student. I have a merit scholarship and I’m a member of the cardiology student association. I don’t fail tests”. He laughs, "Oh, my bad. Forget I said anything”. He goes silent for a few more seconds— something rare that doesn't last long, "Did someone say something to you, then?" You roll your eyes, slam your locker shut, and turn to him. "No, Beomgyu! No one said anything." "I told you to call me Gyu." "We’re not friends." "But I want to be." You cross your arms, stepping forward with a challenging look. "Who said I want to be your friend?" He holds your gaze, matching your challenge with even more intensity. "You do. I can see it in your eyes." You try to look away again, but you can’t. Something inexplicable keeps you locked in his stare. "See? I’m irresistible, aren’t I?" "You’re just cocky, that’s what you are." He grins, but something flashes in his eyes— just for a second, before he mumbles, "Yeah... cocky. That’s all I am” "What was that? “Can’t I want a thoughtful, smart, and gorgeous girl around, huh?". You giggle shyly, blushing against your will. He loves to have that power over you, "So? What do you say? Friends?" He extends his hand, and without even knowing why, you take it. Maybe it’s his undeniable charm, or maybe it’s the fact that you won’t have to see him for the next 3 months, "Friends”.

“Rise and shine, you trainwreck!”

The first thing you hear in the morning is Yunah’s, your best friend, voice practically shaking the walls. You groan, sitting up in bed, still groggy with sleep. Your hair is a mess, your face is marked by the pillow. She comes running out of the bathroom, a bikini in one hand and a bottle of sunscreen in the other, "For the love of God, get up!", Yunah practically jumps on your bed, shaking your shoulder like she’s trying to wake you up from a nightmare .  

You yawn, still half asleep, "What the hell, Yunah… it's 6 in the morning” "It’s almost 10", she corrects, throwing the bikini in your face, "And today is the day!". You take the piece of fabric off your face and stare at her like she lost her mind, "The day I get suffocated by my own bikini?" "What?! No! I mean… maybe, but no! You need to get ready, we have to go out!" "Go where?" "To the event of the century!". You blink slowly, "Yunah, if this is another hippie bazaar where you force me to buy energy crystal necklaces, I swear…" "It’s not!". She kneels on the bed and raises the sunscreen bottle like a villain about to start a monologue. "Today is the day we enjoy summer, and I am not letting you bury yourself under blankets like a depressed sea turtle!".

You blink. Then blink again. Then yawn and curl back on the bed, "Too late" "But Yn you don’t get it!". She pops the sunscreen bottle open with a little too much enthusiasm, and in an almost cinematic disaster, a jet of white lotion shoots straight to your forehead. Silence fills the room. You close your eyes, feeling the sticky mess slowly sliding down your eyebrow. Yunah’s eyes widen, her mouth opening in slow realization, "It’s fine. I can fix this" "I'm going to kill you," you say, completely serious. She throws herself off the bed before you can grab her, laughing as she yells, "Not before I force you to have fun!".

You and Yunah are on a beach on the east coast, where you’ll be spending the 2 next weeks in a paradisiacal bungalow along with Huening Kai, the missing piece of your 3 pieces puzzle, who is staying for a few days with his sisters. The following weeks will be all about no worries. No studying, no medicine— just sun, the beach, friends, and relaxation. And the best part? No boys. 

Yunah is lying on her beach towel, sunglasses on, her body relaxed as she bathes in the sunlight, soaking up vitamin D. You’re beside her, lying on your stomach, reading a new romance novel while enjoying your sunbathing session, until— a volleyball lands right in the middle of your book. She pushes her sunglasses down to her nose and quickly sits up, her mouth parting in indignation, “What the hell is this?! Who do they think we are, huh!? These half assed volleyball players!” “Calm down, Yun. It was probably an accident”, you say, turning to her, “Calm down?! They almost took my bestie’s head off, and you want me to stay calm?! The last thing I’m gonna be is calm!”. You chuckle— she’s a drama queen, but it’s cute that she cares about you. 

The sound of footsteps coming from the horizon catches both of your attention. You look in its direction, a tall male figure comes running towards the two of you, his black shoulder length hair, porcelain skin, and toned body give him away immediately— “Yeonjun?!”, you both say in unison, not expecting to see him out of the university hallways. He smiles apologetically, running his fingers through his soft hair, “Hey, girls… Sorry about the ball”. You glance at Yunah, she’s no longer angry as before– Yeonjun has this strange, soothing effect on everyone. All it takes is for him to speak, to glance in a certain way, and everything just calms down, falls into place. As if the way he talks, the way he looks at people, is some kind of calming spell. You know it because you’re just as much a victim of it as Yunah is. 

He looks at you and smiles, “Hey, Yn!” “Hi, Yeonjun” “Sorry for interrupting your reading, the serve kinda got out of control”, he scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. You smile back at him, “It’s fine, Jjunie”, you say, tossing the ball back to him, “No worries”. You and Yeonjun have known each other since the beginning of the year when you had a practical suturing class at the university hospital and, well… he was your first patient. Choi Yeonjun is a fashion student who loves extreme sports, and on that particular day, he almost tore his arm in half while rock climbing with a group. He sat on the stretcher in front of you and told you stories about his adventures, and since then, you two have been friends— though no one really knows just how close you are.

“No problem at all, Yeonjunnie. You look radiant, you must be having a great time playing volleyball, huh?”, Yunah says sweetly, her voice high pitched, giggling in between words— it’s obvious she has a crush on Yeonjun. You scoff, amused, but she ignores you, “Yeah, yeah. The game’s fun, except Beomgyu always makes these wild, uncontrolled serves, like the one just now, and I’m always the one who has to go get the ball”. Your calm expression vanishes as if melting ice in a desert, “B-Beomgyu, you say?”, you mumble, “Yeah. Choi Beomgyu, from fine arts. Do you know him?”. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks, if it weren’t for the sun, they would’ve noticed how red your face just got, “Well… I…” “Oh, she knows him alright”. A deep, firm voice interrupts you— his voice. Beomgyu emerges from the same direction Yeonjun came from, wearing dark green swim trunks and his hair half tied. And on top? Nothing. Completely shirtless. Why does he have to be so ridiculously hot?, you ask yourself. Yeonjun glances at you, then at Beomgyu, as does Yunah, “You guys… know each other?”, he asks, his tone neutral but… surprised. “Oh, we do. My friend doctor Yn took care of me the other day”, Beomgyu says with a teasing tone, and of course, all eyes are now on you.

You gulp and reply timidly, “Well… he fell off his skateboard and had an open wound” “Ah!” Yeonjun laughs, “He always does”, Beomgyu hits his head and for a moment, you see Yeonjun’s patience falter. He takes a deep breath, clearly fighting against himself to avoid punching his friend's exposed ribs. “Anyway, would you guys like to join our game?”, the older guy gestures toward the volleyball net, where Soobin and Taehyun are waiting impatiently for the ball. “We’d love to, but Yn and I are working on our tans now, right?”, Yunah says, and you simply nod, grateful that you don’t have to make that decision yourself. “Ah, what a shame. Guess I’ll see you later then. I wanna check out that tan”, Yeonjun says playfully. “Of course! See you later”, Yunah replies before he waves and walks away.

But he forgets to take Beomgyu with him.

He stares at you with a smirk on his lips. To him, finding you here is like stumbling upon a pot of gold— now, summer’s going to be interesting. “What a convenient surprise”, he murmurs, “Sorry, what?”, Yunah asks, since you can’t seem to form a single word. He giggles, clearly enjoying your misery, “See you around, Yn”, he says, winks, and then jogs toward his friends, leaving you with slightly parted lips and a mind in absolute chaos, yet completely blank at the same time.

Yunah looks at you, her lips parted. You glance at her, indifferent, "What?" "Choi Beomgyu, huh!? How did I not know this, Yn Yln?!" "Because isn’t important?" "It is important! He's hot, talented, the king of the skatepark!”. You roll over on your towel, focusing on your tan, "And should I care?" "You should!", her voice is loud, indignant, "Come on, he's everything!" "I told you, Yun, we're just acquaintances" "Yeah, right. The way he looked at you tells me otherwise". You swallow hard, "W-what do you mean?" "That he look at you like you're the most desirable woman in the world", you laugh, dismissive, "Yeah, sure" "Well, if you don't want to believe it, fine. But I know what I saw". She puts her sunglasses back on and leans back to relax.  

But her words have the opposite effect on you, leaving you completely absorbed in your thoughts— thoughts of him, Choi Beomgyu.

"I really don’t wanna go", Yunah pushes your arm, "Come on, Yn!" "Are you seriously going to let me go to a party all by myself?" "I always let you!" "But I need a wingwoman, and that’s you" "Now I want to go even less" "Please, Yn! Do it for your beloved Yun, pretty please?", she pouts. You groan, rolling your eyes, "Ugh, I hate you" "But you’re coming?" "...Yes" "Yay! I love you, I love you!". She kisses your cheek before bouncing to the bathroom to get ready for the party. 

The bar is decorated in a tropical luau theme, vibrant decorations of palm leaves and colorful lights creating a lively, almost surreal atmosphere. The low bass of the music vibrates in your chest, the beat pulsing through you with every note. The indistinct chatter of voices mixes with the music rhythm, making everything feel like a blur of sound. The bright, flashing lights dance across the room, projecting chaotic colors on the walls, and you feel your head starting to spin. 

This isn’t the kind of place you’re used to. You’re not used to being in a space where the noise and the lights seem to swallow you whole, making you feel both energized and disoriented at the same time. You knew you shouldn't have come to this party. The uneasy feeling tingling in your stomach only confirms it. Yunah notices it too, "Hey, Yn…  are you okay?" "Y-yeah. I’m fine" "Are you sure?" "Well, I…" "Yn! Yun!”. Yeonjun's voice cuts through the noise and before you can react, he's already in front of you, arms open, pulling you into a tight hug. "I didn’t expect you to come!", he says against the curve of your neck, his warmth spreading across your skin. "I’m so glad you made it".

You glance at Yunah, who has a guilty smile dancing on her lips. The little brat knew Yeonjun would be here, along with his friends— including Beomgyu. And she knew you wouldn’t have come if you'd known. You shoot her a deadly glare before wrapping your arms around Yeonjun, trying to push the tension aside. How were you supposed to disappoint him after that? So you laugh softly, forcing a smile, "I’m glad to see you too, Jjunie". He lets you go, "Come join us, girls! We’re playing a game" "Which game?" "Seven Minutes in Heaven" "Seriously?! What are we, sixteen?". But before you can go any further, Yunah cuts you off, "We’d love to play!". And just like that, against your will, you find yourself sitting in a circle facing Beomgyu, who has a smirk printed on his lips, while a soju bottle spins between you.  

As if you weren’t already unlucky enough, the damn bottle seals your fate, the neck pointing straight at Beomgyu and the base at you.

The murmur of your friends and Beomgyu's penetrating gaze make the air thicken around you, almost suffocating— are you really about to spend seven whole minutes alone in a room with him? The answer is yes. Your body being pushed by Yunah and Yeonjun toward the coat closet, the sound of the door shutting and the click of the lock confirm it. It feels more like a nightmare than anything else.

You freeze, waiting for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of the small space. Even from a distance, you can feel the heat of Beomgyu’s body in the air, his presence weighing down on you, still and silent. His breath and the muffled sound of the music are the only things you can hear. You've been alone with Beomgyu before, but now it's different. Now, you're locked in a tiny coat closet for whole 7 minutes, with no chance of escaping. It feels like the walls are closing in around you, but you're not that lucky— you'll have to face it alive.

 “So”, he says, wiggling his eyebrows, leaning his back on the wall and crossing his arms. “I’m all yours for 7 minutes” “So what?” “We can do whatever you want to” “Well, I don’t want to do anything” “Really? Are you sure?”, he leans in, “Cause I have a couple of things I can think of”, you can feel his hot breath brushing against your face. You close your eyes, breathing him in, the scent from before isn't there anymore, you can feel his natural musk now and it's very very attractive— almost torture. “Get off, bro”, he steps back, still smirking, “Are you afraid of intimacy, Yn?” “What?! No! I just think you’re annoying as fuck” “Okay, okay, we can just sit here and talk if you want to”. He says, sitting on the floor in a cross legged position. You look at him suspiciously, “Or you don’t want to talk either?” “Talking is fine” “So, tell me how you got into medicine. And don’t come with that sugar coated story about loving the profession and blah blah blah”.

You sit in front of him, crossing your legs as well, “Helping people. I’m good at it. Even though I usually don’t get anything in return, it’s something I genuinely enjoy doing” “You usually don’t get anything in return?” “Yeah” “And why is that?” “I don’t know. It’s always been like that in my life. I put effort into others, and they just turn their backs to me at the end”. You run your fingers through your hair, “Not that you’d understand” “I do”, you look at him, surprised, “I don’t have many people I can actually rely on in my life. Except for my family, I just have Yeonjun, Soobin and Taehyun” “But… what about the guys from the skatepark?”. He smiles, but there’s no amusement in his act, “We just like to skate together. In our best, we’re all close as a family, but ask for someone’s help, for someone’s support”, he chuckles, bitterly, “During dark times, they all vanish in a second”. He carries bitterness in his voice, as if he himself had experienced it.

You look at him, surprised, "Wow, that was... unexpected", you say, your jaw almost on the floor. He grins, though there’s still a trace of melancholy on his lips, "Why do you think that?" "I just… I didn’t expect someone like you to feel this way" "Someone like me?", there’s curiosity in his voice, "Yeah. Someone who's always surrounded by people, always smiling, someone who… radiates charisma,  you know?". He exhales softly, "You know, Yn, deep down, I’m just a guy who feels alone, looking for a place to belong. You say I’m annoying, but maybe I’m just trying to be noticed". There’s vulnerability in his voice— his feelings are raw and real. You know it. You feel it. 

You look at him as if you've just made a revolutionary scientific discovery. Choi Beomgyu is actually a lonely guy who annoys people for attention?! Now, that you didn’t see coming. Not at all. "Well, you're doing a great job at that. Anyone can notice you from a mile away”, you say, trying to make him feel better.  But he is not in the mood for little white lies, so he lets out a dry chuckle, shaking his head, "People notice me when I make them laugh, when I’m fun. But when I’m not, they just move on”. His voice is light, playful as always. But for some reason, it doesn’t feel like a joke.

You place your hand over his, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze, "Well, you have me now. Besides your friends". He stares at your hand covering his, clearly caught off guard by your gesture, "That doesn’t mean I like you. Or that I find you any less annoying", you add. "What do you mean you don’t like me?! I thought we were friends!", he exclaims dramatically, almost yelling. You laugh, "Oh no, I only said that to get rid of you, silly", but your tone is teasing. He gasps, placing a hand over his chest, pretending he is deeply offended, "Yn, you are hurting me!" "It’s okay, I can take care of you", you reply. He smiles, and you can’t help but smile too, "And, Yn..." "Hum?" “I recognize what you do for me. If that means anything to you”.  

Choi Beomgyu is the only guy who can make your palms sweat with just a look, a smile, or even a single sentence.  

You nod, pulling your hand back. He looks at the spot, feeling the absence of your warmth but you don’t care, he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on you. Even though you feel, almost know, that he’s already aware of it.

The next day dawned stormy. After you returned to the bungalow from the party, the world dissolved into rain. Throughout the night, thunder and lightning drove everyone away from the sand and sea. By the morning, the rain had ceased, but its effects lingered. The air is more humid and cooler than usual, and piles of sand are scattered along the shore, a result of the strong winds. And the sea is rough. But it isn’t just the sea that is feeling rough— Yunah is part of that club this morning too. 

And guess who she drags to the convenience store? Yes, you. And unfortunately, all the hangover medicine is sold out— apparently, a group of young people bought the last ones. She groans, placing a hand on her head as you both walk back to the bungalow, "Ah! Yn, I'm never drinking again", she whines. You laugh sarcastically, "Sure. Do you know how many times I’ve heard that, Noh Yunah?" "No, but this time I'm serious. I'm a mess. If I don't die, I’m never touching alcohol again" "You’ll survive, drama queen”.

Out of nowhere, she stops, grabs your arm, and pulls you behind a palm tree, "Oh my god, Yn! Tell me I’m not hallucinating!" "Huh?! What?" "Aren’t those Soobin and Beomgyu over there?". She points toward a wooden bench a little ahead of where you are— 2 tall men with black hair are sitting with their backs turned to you, staring at the sea, immersed in a conversation. "Uh, yeah, I think it’s them" "Are they drinking Pedialyte?! I’m going over there to ask for some”. She steps out from behind the palm tree, but you pull her back, "No, you're not" "Why not?" "Because if you go, I’ll have to go too" "And?", you swallow hard, your eyes unable to look away from Beomgyu. 

Yunah follows your gaze and then looks back at you with a smirk on her lips, "What happened in that closet last night?" "Nothing…" You feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. "We just talked". She grins, "And I don’t find Choi Yeonjun attractive" "I'm serious!". You try to argue, but she clearly doesn’t believe you, "Okay, if nothing happened, then you can come with me and ask for some of their Pedialyte". She turns her back to you and walks toward them. You bury your face in your hands, holding back a scream, then reluctantly follow her.  

"This is never going to work", Soobin tells Beomgyu when he catches a glimpse of a figure approaching from the corner of his eye. He looks in the direction where you and Yunah are coming from and grins, "Hey! Isn't that Yunah and Yn?", he says, poking Beomgyu’s arm to get his attention. Beomgyu looks away from whatever he was doing and glances back— Yunah is confidently walking toward them while you clumsily try to catch up to her. He smiles at the scene. 

"Yunah! Yn!", Soobin greets you both. Yunah jumps forward like she just won the lottery. Her excitement is so raw, it almost feels contagious. Almost. She twirls a strand of hair around her finger, eyes sparkling as she greets Soobin, “Soobinnie! Gyuuu! Hiii!”, Yunah says, overly excited, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. "Hey, girls! How are you? Did you enjoy the party last night?" "We looooved it! But, you know… hangovers are a problem. We tried to buy some Pedialyte, but the store was sold out". Soobin chuckles, "I think that’s our fault", he gestures toward a ridiculous number of bottles in a bag on the ground, "Yeonjun and Taehyun are going to need some too", he explains, "But you can take some as well". Yunah grins from ear to ear and bends down to grab a bottle of strawberry flavor like a starving lion that just found a defenseless prey.

You remain standing, watching her, trying to ignore the weight of Beomgyu’s gaze on you. "And you, Yn?", Soobin asks, "She didn’t drink last night", Beomgyu answers for you. You just know he’s smirking without even looking at him, “Right, yn?”. You swallow hard, your gaze meets Beomgyu’s. His eyes catch yours, and you feel your chest tighten, a mix of frustration and something else you can’t name. Your heart skips a beat. Damn him. “Yeah. right”.

You thought that as soon as your friend grabbed her hangover medicine, you would leave. But instead, she decides to start a conversation with Soobin, "Isn’t it a crazy coincidence that we’ve run into each other on vacation 3 times in a row without even planning it?". Soobin takes a sip of the medicine and nods in agreement, "Pretty crazy, isn’t it?" "Yeah. How long are you guys staying here?"  "A month"  “Oh, wow! That’s a long time", she says, and he nods again, “What about you?” "Just 2 weeks, the bungalow is too expensive for just the two of us to afford alone for too long" "Why don’t you two join us? We’re at my family’s beach house and there’s an extra room. I think it’d be nice for all of us to stay together since we keep running into each other”, he grins, making his dimples appear, “That is, if you don’t mind sharing a room" "Oh my God, of course not! That would be amazing, right, Yn?”. 

Sharing a house with Beomgyu?! You’re not mentally strong enough for that. So quickly you come up with an excuse, "What about Huening?", her excitement melts away, "Oh, right… Yeah, we have a friend, Kai, who's joining us tomorrow morning. That makes three of us for one room" "Ah. What a shame, maybe next ti…" "I’ll share my room with him", Beomgyu cuts Soobin off. "Are you serious?!", Yunah says, excited, "Yeah. I’m serious”, he replies to her, but his eyes never leave you, making it clear he’s doing this for you— to keep you close. "Then it’s perfect” "But… shouldn’t we check with Kai first?" "I’m sure Kai won’t mind. He always shared a room with his 2 sisters. What’s one guy around his age?". You look calm on the outside, but on the inside, you're thinking of all the different ways you'll torture Yunah later, “But…” “Look, I have a better idea. Beomgyu comes to my room and Kai can take his”, Soobin decides. 

The three of them look at you, waiting to see how you’ll argue this time— except there’s nothing left to argue, "Fine. Whatever”, you finally say.  "Great! I’ll go tell the guys we have new guests” "I’m coming with you. I can’t wait to see Yeonjun’s face", Yunah says before following Soobin, once again leaving you alone with Beomgyu.  

He watches the two of them disappear, then turns his attention back to what he was doing before you arrived. You glance at his hands— one is holding a bottle of Pedialyte, and the other is gripping a rock, which he’s using to hit the plastic cap. Apparently, he’s trying to open the bottle. With a rock. You furrow your brows and sit beside him on the bench, "You know that’s never going to work, right?". He gives you a sideways glance, "Doesn’t hurt to try". You open your mouth to argue how stupid his idea is, but a burst of wind makes you shiver. Of course Beomgyu notices it.

 He sets the rock and the bottle aside, then pulls off the gray hoodie he’s wearing and holds it out to you. You just stare at it, not even considering accepting it, "You’ll get sick, and there won’t be anyone to take care of you, so you better just take it" "Yunah will take care of me if I get sick!" "With her head spinning from all the alcohol she drank last night? I don’t think so". You keep staring at the hoodie— he has a point. "The rest of us can’t even tell the difference between a cold and the flu. You’re our one and only hope, Yn, so please don’t get sick”. You chuckle softly, then take the hoodie from his hands and slip it on. The fabric is warm yet light, like a cloud against your skin. And the best part? It smells like him— not the sweet scent of his perfume or the woody scent of his deodorant, but his natural scent. Indescribable, yet unmistakably his, "Aren’t you going to be cold?" "I can handle it" "Thanks…”

"You seem to love the idea, huh? Of staying with us", he teases, "Yeah, right. Having you as a next door neighbor sounds like a dream", you reply, sarcasm thick in your voice, "Damn, Yn. You’ve been in a bad mood these days. What’s up?" "It’s just…”. You hesitate but end up letting it out, “I’m nervous about my project” "What project?" "I'm going to make a presentation at the cardiology academic league". He chuckles, you’re unbelievable, "You’re thinking about that during vacation?!" "It’s going to be the most important event of the whole fall!" "What’s it about?" "The role of the heart in processing emotions" "Wow, you're really a hopeless romantic, aren't you? If you need to run some experiments, I volunteer to mess with your feelings”, he says, wiggling his eyebrows. Seriously? Don’t say, you think sarcastically, as if he already doesn’t already do that without any purpose. You roll your eyes and mutter, "You don’t understand", he notices your frustration. Nudging your thigh, he catches your attention, "Hey, it’s gonna be fine. You’re dr. Yn, there’s nothing you can’t do" "Yeah… I hope so”, you say, still unconvinced. 

He feels your lack of confidence, so he tries to distract you, "Hey, have you ever surfed before?" "Surfing? No, never. Do you surf?" "You bet. I can teach you if you want" "Should I really trust you to teach me how to skate on the water?", he laughs, "Yes, I’m actually pretty good at it" "I don’t know about that" "How about this: I'll go out there, catch some waves, and you can judge for yourself". You bite your lower lip, hesitate, but then nod. He brightens up, a grin growing on his lips, "Great! I’ll go grab my board then” "Okay". He runs off through the sand like a kid, and you can’t help but smile— his energy is contagious.

When Beomgyu returns with a surfboard under his arm and a surf shirt on, you no longer think it's a good idea to go into the sea. The waves are convulsing violently. You look at him, who seems to not care about it, "Beomgyu... I don't think you should go into the water" "Why not?!" "It looks dangerous". He glances at the sea, seemingly unbothered, and then turns back to you with a shrug, "Nah, it's fine. I’ve got this". He takes a step forward in the sand, but you grab his arm— your touch makes him twist inside. "Beomgyu... are you going to be okay?", he smiles, "You're so cute when you're worried about me", he holds you by the shoulders, "I'll be fine, Yn” "Really?" "Relax, you’re not getting rid of me that easily".

With a light pat on your head, he comes into the water. Your heart races. Beomgyu might be annoying, but you don’t want anything bad to happen to him, just the thought of it makes you shiver.

The waves crash violently against the shore, a wild mix of water and foam. Beomgyu is just a small figure in the middle of the enraged ocean, his surfboard cutting through the waves like a knife through the air. Each wave he rides feels like it might be his last, the board dipping and swerving, as if the ocean wants to pull him under. You can barely see through the spray of water, the sky and sea blurring into one. You watch him with your breath caught in your throat, the roar of the water fills your ears, and for a moment, you lose sight of him. You grip the sleeve of his hoodie tightly, eyes shut, anxiety building in. 

There’s silence— only the sounds of crashing waves and your own heavy breath fill the space. 

And then, you hear it— his voice, a triumphant scream. You snap your eyes open, heart pounding, and there he is, above the waves, balanced perfectly on top of the surfboard, riding the chaos of the sea effortlessly. You can’t help but smile, the relief flooding you, and without thinking, you shout back, a cheer of victory, "Yay! Beomgyu!". The wave finally crashes, sending a spray of water into the air. Beomgyu rides the remnants of the wave, his movements fluid and confident as he paddles toward you, a wide grin spreading across his face— he feels like he has conquered the sea itself.

He walks toward you, water dripping off him, a triumphant glow in his eyes. The smile on his face makes your heart flutter, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.

Until…

Beomgyu screams, loud and painfully, dropping the surfboard, which stays tethered to his ankle. His face twists in pain as he frantically splashes his leg in the water. From afar, you can tell that something is wrong, “What happened?”, you ask, walking toward him, the current making it harder to move. “Shit… I think it was a jellyfish”, he growls through clenched teeth, gripping his leg. Your eyes widen, “You’re kidding, right?” “Do I look like I’m kidding, Yn?”, he groans, his face furrowing, and you can tell he's in pain.

Without thinking twice, you grab his arm and start guiding him back to the shore, “Come on, we need to get out of here”. Beomgyu limps along beside you, the pain evident on his face. As soon as you reach the sand, you make him sit down. He props himself up on his elbows, watching as you unstrap his board and examine the red, irritated mark on his skin, “Yeah, that jellyfish really got you” “AM I GONNA DIE?!”, he yells, loud and dramatic. “What?! No! … At least I hope not”, you mumble, praying he doesn’t listen to the last part. “Do something, Yn. It’s hurting” “There’s a hot spring nearby”, you say, “The water might help ease the pain”. He nods, biting his lip to hold back another groan of pain, “Okay. If it doesn’t work, I’ll let you have my hoodie”. You shrug. “I’ll sell it and use the money to buy a new book. To replace the one you ruined with your degenerate volley serve. A weak chuckle escapes him, “Fair”.

The two of you make your way to the natural spring. The place is almost magical— a small stream that feeds in a little pool of crystal clear water, surrounded by large gray stones with moss on top and cascading ferns swaying gently in the breeze.It really looks healing. Beomgyu sits on one of the rocks and dips his calf into the water, letting out a sigh of relief as the warmth starts to work its magic. “Better?”, you ask, sitting beside him, “Way better”. He murmurs, tilting his head back with a groan of relief. You swallow hard, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he leans back. It makes something pulse deep in your core. You want to tear your clothes off. Shit. “Who would’ve thought I’d survive a jellyfish attack thanks to you”, he says, with amusement in his voice. You roll your eyes, but a smile escapes your lips, “Don’t be dramatic”. 

He turns to look at you, his eyes glowing with something different, “I’m serious. You’re always so… lost inside your own head, thinking about everything, but that’s just who you are, isn’t it? You care about everything, even about an idiot who got himself stung by a jellyfish— more than you do about yourself”. You feel warmth spread across your chest. He’s looking at you in a way that makes your stomach flip and your palms sweat, “You’re not an idiot”, you say softly. Beomgyu smiles, small but sincere, “Is that a compliment?”, he teases, “Maybe”. Silence falls between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. On the contrary, there’s something in the air, like magnetism, pulling you closer to him. Something you can’t quite name. Beomgyu leans in a little more, his eyes flickering to your lips for a split second before locking onto yours again. Your heart races.

He wants this too.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly your faces are so close.  His breath is warm against your skin, as hot as the steam rising from the water around you. Your eyes flutter shut. His lips are just about to brush against yours when you hear a loud splash, followed by a sharp gasp, “Oh my god!”. Beomgyu freezes at the familiar voice, his lips mere centimeters from yours. 

Both of you turn your heads around at the same time to find Yeonjun standing there, knee deep in the water, staring at you like he just walked in on a crime scene, “Were you guys about to kiss?!”, he practically shrieks, scandalized. You slap a hand over your mouth, holding back a laugh, while Beomgyu groans in pure frustration, burying his face in his hands as he sincerely mutters, “Dude, I hate my life”. You, on the other hand, can’t hold it in and burst out laughing, the moment between you two dissolving into thin air. “What the hell are you even doing here?” you ask, amused,“I just wanted to relax, but apparently, I just stepped into a drama”, Yeonjun says, looking personally offended.

Beomgyu lifts his head, shooting him a deadly glare, “Can you, I don’t know, just leave?”. Yeonjun crosses his arms, “No need to be rude, lover boy. I’ll leave you two alone… eventually”. You sigh, “Yeonjun…” “Alright, alright, I’m going!”, he raises his hands in surrender, backing away dramatically, “Enjoy your little moment or whatever”. But just when you think you’re finally free of him, he yells over his shoulder, “Use protection!”. Beomgyu tosses a handful of water at him, “Why don’t you trip over a rock and die!?”. Yeonjun takes off running, cackling. 

You glance at Beomgyu, biting your lip to hold back another laugh. He looks absolutely defeated,“The universe hates me”, he grumbles. You smile, “Maybe it’s just Yeonjun who hates you”. He sighs, shaking his head, but as you watch him, a thought flickers in the back of your mind:

This isn’t over at least not yet. Deep down, you know it’s only a matter of time.

For the rest of the summer, you and Yunah spent time with the rest of the boys—Yeonjun, Soobin, Taehyun, and Beomgyu. And of course, Kai, who joined you along the way. To your surprise, it turned out to be the funniest summer ever. You guys played games, camped on the beach, and the boys sang songs around the bonfire. Soobin tried to cook for you, but it was a big disaster. Thankfully, Yeonjun and his supply of ramen saved the day. Yunah flirted with everyone, except Kai, who was like an older brother to her, and Beomgyu, who she considered yours, even though you never admitted it. As for Beomgyu… well, he was a complete tease, yet somehow, completely dreamy. Every opportunity to press you against a wall and mutter some provocative words against your lips, but without actually kissing them, he took it.

You told yourself that you hated it, but deep down, you knew you liked it. And now, at the end of your trip, you knew you were going to miss him— his mischievous grin as he splashed water on you while you were sunbathing, the thick tension between you whenever no one else was around, his flirtatious words... But also his calm moments, like when he would pick up a guitar, sit down to draw, or completely focus on his skateboarding or surfing moves. You’re going to miss everything.

Now, the whole group is sitting together in the dining room of the house. The room is lively, filled with the voices of the group scattered around the long table. Taehyun cooked with the help of Huening— an exception for this special night. The scent of freshly prepared food lingers in the air, blending with laughter and the clinking of glasses. You are sitting next to Yunah, trying to focus on your conversation, but your mind is elsewhere. Or rather, on someone else.  

Choi Beomgyu.  

He is sitting on your right, his leg is brushing lightly against yours under the table. Still, you tell yourself it’s just a coincidence. Then, his elbow brushes against yours, and without warning, he reaches out and places a piece of meat on your plate. You blink, surprised, and lift your gaze to him, “Eat”,  he said, not even looking at you. You raise an eyebrow, “I can serve myself, thanks” “I know you can, Yn, but you’re not eating enough”. He lifts his brows, challenging you to argue. You open your mouth to protest, but he simply takes another bite of his food, as if he hadn’t just provoked you.

You shake your head in disbelief and sigh, bringing the piece of meat to your mouth before he decides to feed you himself. Suddenly, you feel a touch— his hand is under the table, resting lightly on your thigh. Your body stiffens immediately, your chopsticks frozen mid air. 

You look at him. Beomgyu continues to act as if nothing is happening, chatting with Soobin about something trivial, his expression completely relaxed like his fingers aren’t tracing slow, teasing circles on your skin, just below the cuffed hem of your denim shorts. You narrow your eyes, What the hell is he doing? With a discreet movement, your hand reaches down, grabbing his wrist, fingers tightening in a silent warning for him to stop. Beomgyu finally turns his head toward you, amusement flickering in his gaze, lips curling into that typical smirk of his.

 He leans in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper, meant just for you, “What’s the problem, Yn?” “The problem is you”, you muttered just as quietly, irritation dripping from your words. He smiles, running his tongue slowly over his lower lip, “Oh, I know”. Then, he simply turns back to his conversation with Soobin.  

The audacity.  

So that’s how he wants to play?  Feeling personally challenged, you flash a sweet smile before slowly trailing your hand down to his leg. Beomgyu doesn’t react at first, probably thinking you are going to return his touch.  

He is so wrong.  

Your nails dig into his skin in a firm squeeze. Beomgyu is used to Yeonjun squeezing his thigh, but unlike Yeonjun, your nails are long. As a result, Beomgyu chokes on his own saliva.  You keep an angelic expression, sipping your drink while he struggles to compose himself, “You okay?”, Soobin asks, offering a glass of water. Beomgyu gives him a forced smile, accepting the drink, “Yeah. Just… the food’s spicier than I expected”. 

He looks at you. You grin, devilishly, and continue to eat, satisfied. But before you can celebrate your victory, he leans in again, murmuring into your ear, “You’re gonna pay for that, babygirl”. And by the mischievous glint in his eyes, you know Beomgyu will keep his promise. 

You swallow hard, regret kicking in. For the rest of the dinner, you can’t focus on anything except the revenge awaiting you.

Dinner ended without further incidents, but you know Beomgyu didn’t forget. You could see it in the way he looked at you during dinner. In the way he smiled— slow, unhurried, like he knew something you didn’t.

You feel when he follows you to the bedroom, his presence heavy behind you. When the door closes, a shiver runs down your spine. The soft click of the lock is quiet, but loud enough to make your heart race. You turn around slowly, meeting his gaze,"W-why did you lock the door?", you mumble. The corner of his mouth lifts, and he steps forward, "Because I don’t want to be interrupted”.

Your body reacts before you can even form a response. You step back, but your back meets the wall too soon, and he is already close for you to escape. Too close, with one hand resting on the wall beside your face, shortening the distance between you, "What do you think you’re doing?", you mutter, heat creeping up your face. He tilts his head, the smirk never fading, "Making you pay. You think I forgot?". His voice is low, intimidating. 

You widen your eyes, "Beomgyu, I just squeezed your leg" "With sharp nails!", he’s loud again, "It was a reflex!" "A reflex?!", he repeats, eyes sparkling, "Funny... because it seemed pretty intentional to me” "You started it!". He chuckles softly, dark eyes drifting over your face before lowering to your lips. His fingers brush against your waist, slowly, playing with the hem of your shirt. Your body tenses under the teasing touch, a warm shiver running up your spine. You hold your breath, a small whine escaping your lips.

He isn’t just touching— you know he is playing with your mind, messing with your emotions.

"Beomgyu..." "Hum?", you hate the satisfied tone in his voice. You hate how weak your own voice sounded, your breath shortened— he knows exactly what he is doing.

The tip of his fingers trail down, tracing a light, torturous path along your waist until they reach your hips. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to relieve the tension pooling between your legs. The room is silent, except for the sound of heavy breaths. The energy between you is so tangible it is almost suffocating. Your bodies are inches apart, and the tension is quite unbearable. "Are you going to stop me this time?", he murmurs, his lips so close you feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. You slowly lift your gaze, meeting his. His dark eyes are full of something that makes your stomach flip.

You try to open your mouth to answer, but he leans in before you could say anything, his breath now brushing against your jaw, "Answer me, Yn". Your heart pounds against your chest, "Beomgyu...". He smiles, satisfied. You shut your eyes for a second, trying to gather your thoughts, but his hands are already moving again, tracing a tempting path up your body.

Without hesitation, he goes deeper, his touch now bolder, fingers nibbling your collarbone, then trailing lower. Each touch seems to mimic the erratic rhythm of your heartbeat. You try to stay calm, but it is impossible when he has his hands spread across your back, pressing you against him with an intensity that sends your senses into overdrive. Slowly, he moves down again, his fingers brushing along the curve of your chest. You bite your lower lip, trying to suppress the overwhelming sensations he is stirring inside you. 

Beomgyu pauses for a moment, looking at you, his eyes shining with a mix of desire and amusement. "You teased me at dinner”, he murmurs, lips dangerously close to your neck, "Now it’s my turn”. You hold your breath when you feel his lips barely brush against your skin, a touch so warm, so slow—- it makes your mind spin. The feeling of his mouth against your sensitive skin, the way his tongue moves, exploring, makes you lose yourself. Every movement leaves you wanting more. His fingers tighten around your hip, pulling you closer. Your body reacts before your mind can even process it, your hips pressing against his, involuntarily. Of course, Beomgyu notices it, "I knew you’d like this", he whispers against your skin, pleased. You open your eyes, pupils blown, your entire body burning and you know that if you don’t do something, he will take this exactly wherever he wants, however he wants.

So, you do what you can. Your nails dig into his back this time— right on his trapezius. Beomgyu lets out a low groan, his eyes shutting for a second. When he opens them again, there is something different there— a dark, dangerous glint. He smiles slowly, "You just made things worse for yourself, Yn". Now, you know you are completely damned.

He moves even closer, pressing his leg between yours, just to tease you. You let out a quiet moan through gritted teeth as the firm muscle of his thigh rubs against your sensitive core, sending electric jolts through your entire body. You feel his bulge pressing against your stomach— so hard, so quickly. When your gazes lock, everything around you seems to vanish. 

There are only the two of you.

Beomgyu lifts a hand, cupping your cheek, the gesture delicate but charged with an urgent need. His eyes never left yours, his expression overwhelmed by desire, "You have no idea what you’re doing to me, Yn", he whispers, his voice rough, low, consumed by something greater than the two of you can control. Another shiver runs down your spine— you can’t look away, and you don’t want to. Your skin burns under his touch, and the feeling of being so close, yet not close enough, drives you crazy— you know you are about to give in.

"Yn...", he murmurs, his eyes shining with an intensity you have never seen before. There’s something almost possessive in his aura, as if he wants to claim every piece of you, in a way you can’t say no."I want you”, he whispers, voice dripping with need, "Right now". There is still an invisible line between you two, one that both of you know will soon disappear, "You want me, Yn. You don’t have to hide it", he is right— you want him, you need him. With every part of you.

So, for the first time in a long time, you let yourself relax. In one hurried, needy motion, you pull him close, finally closing the space between you. His lips are like the ocean— gentle at first, but quickly turning into a powerful force, devouring you whole. A muffled moan escapes your lips as you feel the warmth of his tongue against yours, melting deeply into the kiss. His touch is both fierce and soft, like he is devouring you with a deliberate care. You match his intensity, your hands trailing up beneath his shirt, slowly, savoring the warmth of his skin, tracing every ridge of his abdomen, meeting every expectation you have of him.

Just like you, Beomgyu is lost in the moment. His lips travel back to your neck and your body trembles at the heat of his breath against your skin. The pressure, the hunger, everything is building inside you—- like something ready to explode. There are no more words, just the sound of ragged breaths, tangled bodies, and a tension that is about to break. The whole world seems to disappear, and all that remains is the desire to lose themselves in each other.

Suddenly, he pulls away, gasping for air, "Do you think Yunah will be back soon?", his voice is shaky, "I saw her coming into Yeonjun’s room with Taehyun and a few bottles of whiskey". His mouth forms an "o", already thinking about the tea he is going to spill with Soobin the next day, "Looks like we’re not the only ones having fun tonight". You laugh, playing with the hem of his shorts, slowly undoing the knot that holds them in place. 

He follows your lead, pulling off his shirt just as you strip him of the rest of his clothes— slowly, teasingly, sending sparks through his entire system, which inevitably transmit to yours. You scan his half naked body, devouring him with your eyes, "Have you done this before?", he asks. You meet his gaze, nodding, "Good", he murmurs. Then, he tugs at the waistband of your shorts, unbuttoning and sliding them off with swift efficiency. His fingers brush against your stomach before moving up, taking your shirt with them. You gasp as the cool night air contrasts with the warmth of his body against yours.

His hands travel down to your ass, gripping tightly before lifting you effortlessly and carrying you to Yunah’s bed. Normally, you’d correct him, tell him it’s the wrong bed and make him take you to the right one, but you're too lost in the moment— too lost in him— to even consider it. The only thought in your mind is for him to throw you onto the bed and make you forget your own name. 

As if he could read your thoughts, your back soon meets the soft mattress and his face settles between your still covered breasts. He breathes you in, taking in your sweet natural scent before putting the fabric of the bikini to the side to capture one of your nipples. The circular motions of his tongue against the sensitive point send shivers down your spine, making you arch your back slightly as a moan escapes your lips. Your fingers grip the sheets, seeking relief.

He smirks at your reaction.

His hands return to your hips, untying your bikini bottoms and leaving you bare from the waist down. The sensation of your exposed skin against the fabric of his boxers drives you insane. You try to grind against him, but he pulls away, removing the last piece of clothing between you. You miss his warmth instantly, but soon, he’s crawling back over you, his body hovering above yours. 

His fingers slowly slip inside you, testing if you’re ready for him. A soft moan escapes your lips against his neck, "You're perfect for me, babygirl". He sucks on your earlobe, "Please”, you beg. Without hesitation, he aligns himself with your entrance and, torturously slow, pushes inside. A quiet whine slips past your lips, as you feel yourself stretching to take his length, "You're so tight", he groans. "Are you okay?", his voice is muffled against the curve of your neck, his whole body trembling as he holds himself back from tearing you in two with all his strength. "Y- yes. You can…”, you gulp, voice shaky, “... move if you want”. You feel his smirk against your skin.

With your back flat against the bed and your legs wrapped around his torso, your bodies move as one. Balls deep, his thrusts hit the sweet spot inside you, making you see stars. The connection between you is so intense, so intimate, you can barely breathe. Your body is reacting, the momentum building, and when he suddenly pauses, you force yourself to open your eyes. 

Beomgyu is watching you, his lips still close to yours, but he doesn’t move, "W-What?", you whisper, your voice trembling from the pleasure, "You're beautiful” "You’ve told me that before” "But you look especially beautiful like this, burning with desire for me". You chuckle, feeling the tightness in your core intensify with every second he doesn’t move inside you.  He obviously notices because, without warning, he resumes his thrusts— this time deeper, rougher. His sweat drips down on your chest mixing with your own. You're reaching your edge soon. 

The tension in the room reaches its peak, the air between you is on edge, like a wire ready to break. The growing tension in your gut finally snaps, the pleasure hitting you like fireworks lighting up the midnight sky. He comes first, and you follow right after. Beomgyu collapses on top of you, both yours and his breathing completely erratic. You stare at him, both of you fully aware that the line between you has been completely crossed.

The house is bathed into shadows, illuminated only by the moonlight that slips through the windows. The soft sound of the distant waves fills the silence— absolutely peaceful. Still, he couldn't sleep.

The house is cool and refreshing from the cold midnight breeze, but the room where you are sleeping feels warm, completely suffocating. He already has spent too much time lying beside you, feeling your rhythmic breath against the pillow, feeling the warmth of your body curled under his.

And that's a problem.

He needs to get out of there. He needs space to think— or maybe, he just needs to escape.

When he leaves the room and slowly shuts the door, he feels the fresh air against his skin. Beomgyu moves carefully down the hall, his bare feet against the cold floor. But just as he’s about to take another step down the dark hallway, he realizes he’s not alone.

"Yeonjun?"

His friend is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, as if waiting for him. Beomgyu furrows his brow, "What the hell are you doing awake at this hour?", Yeonjun raises an eyebrow, “I should be asking you that". Beomgyu rolls his eyes and steps to the side, trying to pass him, but Yeonjun blocks his way with his arm, "Where are you going?", Beomgyu shrugs, "Outside”. Yeonjun furrows his brow, "Why?", he holds up a joint case, "I can’t sleep. I need to relax". But the older man knows his friend, knows it’s not just about insomnia.

 He sighs and crosses his arms again, "What? What’s the problem?", Beomgyu mutters impatiently, "The problem isn’t you smoking. The problem is you leaving her room in the middle of the night like she's a one night stand". Beomgyu forces a low laugh, "It's not like I’m running away. I told you, I just can’t sleep, and I need to relax”. Yeonjun lets out a skeptical, nasal laugh, “Really? Because that sounds exactly like the opposite of what’s happening". Beomgyu opens his mouth to say it’s not like that, but even him doesn't believe those words.

 His silence makes that clear to Yeonjun, confirming what he already knew. He grunts, dragging a hand over his face, "Ah! Beomgyu...", he hesitates, choosing his words carefully, "Why do you always do this?". Beomgyu raises an eyebrow, "Do what?", Yeonjun steps forward, closing the gap between them, "You know what I mean”.

Beomgyu lets out a short, humorless laugh, "Are you going to start with this again?" "Yes", Yeonjun replies without hesitation, "Because it’s always the same thing”. Beomgyu turns his face away, his eyes fixed on the darkness of the hall, but Yeonjun continues, "Everytime you like someone you get close. You make them like you back, then, when you realize they feel the same, you run away".

Beomgyu clenches his jaw, his eyes burning with anger in the dim light of the night. The silence grows heavier between them. Beomgyu licks his lips, uncomfortable. He knows where this conversation is going. He knows that Yeonjun always sees right through him, that he always reads him like an open book, "You like her".

Beomgyu doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he swallows hard, searching for an answer in the back of his head, "If I liked her, what would that change?". Yeonjun tilts his head, his eyes fixed on him, "You’d distance yourself from her”. Beomgyu clenches his jaw, shifting his gaze to the joint case, as if that would absolve him of all the guilt. His smile falters, it’s so quick that someone less attentive wouldn’t notice— but Yeonjun notices. And in that moment, he knows something inside Beomgyu cracked just a little—  his fortress is starting to crumble.

Finally, he sighs, "Maybe with her, will be different”. Yeonjun lets out a short, humorless laugh,"Then why are you looking for a way to run away?". Beomgyu doesn’t answer, because they both know there’s no need to— the truth is implied in his unspoken words. Yeonjun takes another step closer, his fists clenching at his sides, “But this is Yn, and if you even think about doing this to her, you’ll have to deal with me”.

For a moment, the only sound between them is the distant noise of the ocean. Beomgyu closes his eyes for a second, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling settling in his chest. 

Then, he grabs his lighter and spins it between his fingers, "Good night, Jjunie”. He gives his friend a light pat on the shoulder and walks past him, heading for the front door with doubt heavy in his chest. Because Yeonjun is right— if he keeps this up, he’s going to end up pushing you away, leaving you completely broken. 

And that scares him more than staying. 

The last thing you remember was falling asleep with Beomgyu on top of you. You recall watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, the silence of the room filled only by his soft snores and the gentle sound of the ocean in the distance. His hair had cascaded over his shoulders, damp with sweat and clinging to his forehead

You fell asleep to that sight— only to wake up without it.

Your entire body is covered in goosebumps from the cold midnight air sneaking in from the open window. The first thing that crosses your mind as you wake up is the absence of his warmth. Slowly, you sit up, your limbs feeling heavy, your thighs aching from the roughness. Then, you stand, wincing slightly, and walk to the window to close it—only to catch sight of Beomgyu sitting outside with a trail of smoke curled above his head, blending into the night air. He’s on the sand, curled in on himself, staring at the ocean. Silent. Still. You smile softly, then glance around for something to wear, settling on the hoodie he lent you the day he got stung by a jellyfish. The one you, sneakily, never gave back.

The air outside is even colder. You wrap your arms around yourself and make your way toward him, quickening your pace. As you approach, the strong scent of the joint between his fingers reaches your nose, making your head pulse slightly. When he sees you, he grins lazily— still hazy from your scent, your taste, your touch. From you. The fact that he’s smoking is just a detail. “Hey, Yn," he murmurs, his voice even huskier than usual— a mix of sleep and smoke. "Are you smoking weed?!" "Yes. Want some?", he extends the joint to you, "Huh, no. Thank you" "Have you ever tried?" "Pot? No” "Do you want to get high?" "I'm not sure I even know how to smoke" "Want to try?".

You stare at the joint between his fingers. You never do things like this, "I don’t know if this is good for me". He chuckles sarcastically, taking a drag before speaking, "Go ahead, lecture me", you tilt your head, "Hum… lecture you?" "Yeah. Tell me about the harmful effects of smoking and all that shit”. You sit beside him on the sand, the strong scent of weed invading your senses, making you doubt you'd ever want to smoke that, "But it would ruin the mood", you say. He laughs, "You're surreal" "What do you mean?" "No one has ever captivated me as much as you", he says. You chuckle softly, "C’mon. I’m just an uninteresting college student" "No. You’re unique, unusual. I’ve never met someone like you before. Don’t belittle yourself, Yn". You nod, agreeing, trying to ignore how quickly your heart started racing.

"Isn’t this hoodie mine?", he asks, "Well… hum, maybe I… kind of forgot to give it back". He takes a drag, laughing under his breath, "Keep it. It looks better on you" "You think so?" "I know it does". You fidget with your hair, trying to hide the warmth spreading across your cheeks.

That’s when he pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket and slips it into the front pocket of the hoodie, "Here. Open it when you’re alone” "What is it?” "Something I made for you”. You fight the urge to peek at it right away. Instead, you follow Beomgyu’s gaze toward the horizon, watching the moonlight ripple across the dark ocean. You love these quiet moments with Beomgyu— when he isn’t talking nonstop and you can just enjoy his presence without being teased. But they are rare.  

"Hey, I have an idea”, he says, eyes glinting. "What?" "I can get you high without you having to smoke" "How?" "Just watch". He takes a big drag but doesn’t exhale. Instead, he leans in, lips hovering yours. Your heart pounds— how could it not? He is so close, his lips mere inches away, and you feel so tempted to kiss him, as if some supernatural force is drawing your lips closer. 

He holds your chin, eyes locked on your lips. You move forward slightly, just a fraction, unable to look away from his mouth either. He pulls your chin down, parting your lips just enough before exhaling the smoke into your mouth. Your lips brush against his lightly, sending a rush of serotonin through your body, intensifying your longing for him. But he pulls away too soon.  

"Inhale and exhale slowly", he instructs, and you do as he says. Beomgyu watches you with a smirk, proud, "Now you can get high with me". As if I needed weed to feel high when I’m around you, dork, you think. Soon, your body feels light and relaxed, almost like the waves in front of you.  

But Beomgyu looks completely normal, "Gyu", your voice sounds slower, heavier, "Yes?" "How come you’re still so freaking electric?". He laughs, "I’m used to it, I guess". You rest your head on his shoulder, "I like you, you know”. For the way you begged for him under his body hours ago,  he probably caught the hint that you like him, "I-I like you too, Yn" "That’s something I wanted to know. Why do you always say my name at the end of your sentences?" "I like your name inside my voice", he shrugs. You chuckle, "That makes two of us”. He grins, "You know, I…" "I'm afraid. Terrified of losing you.", your loose tongue cuts him mid sentence, "What?"  "If you ever get hurt, I… I will miss you. I don’t want to lose you. It would break me apart” "Why do you think I would get hurt?"

 "Skateboarding"

"Oh!", he suddenly freezes in place. His breath catches in his throat, and his chest tightens as if the air itself has thickened. He pulls his shoulder back, forcing you to lift your head. Your eyes meet, and you tilt your head slightly, "Are you okay?" "Yeah! Yeah, I...". He runs a shaky hand through his hair, trying to steady himself, but the motion feels desperate, as if he's trying to rid himself of the tension building in his body, "I just remembered I haven’t packed my bags yet". He stands, his legs unsteady, like his own body doesn't know what to do with the rush of panic flooding him, "S-sure" "I’ll see you tomorrow. We can... sit together in the car" "Alright…”.

He walks away, each step a struggle as the weight of your words presses on his chest. His mind races, Yeonjun is right. If he leaves, he’ll hurt you. But if he stays... he wouldn't be able to let go of skateboarding— it’s as much a part of him, of who he is, as his own personality, as the heart beating in his chest— and he’ll hurt you even more. No matter what he does, he's going to  hurt you.

His breath is shallow, there's a tightness in his chest not just from the panic, but from the realization that he’s cornered, Why does it feel like I’m suffocating, like there’s no way out?

You watch him, hoping he’s okay, hoping your words didn’t push him too far.

The next day, he sits next to Soobin in the car.

If hurting you it’s inevitable, then wouldn’t it just be better... to end it now?

Fall, beginning of the new semester:

The bell rings, loud and persistent, signaling the start of the first period of the semester. A sea of students moves through the hallways, searching for their classrooms, arms linked with their friends, laughing at their summer stories, filled with excitement for the beginning of the semester. But you— you remain still, eyes fixed on the photo you just hang on your locker.

A group photo taken during the summer.

You haven’t heard from Beomgyu in about two months, not even Yeonjun knew about him. Soobin also claimed he didn’t know either, but you’re convinced he lied. The way his voice faltered over the phone, how he quickly changed the subject— it all gave him away.

Still, you like to believe that Beomgyu just needed some time to himself. After all, he’s an introvert who spent the entire summer surrounded by 6 people almost the whole time. Even so, the constant thought that something might have gone wrong haunts you day and night.

You take a deep breath, shutting your locker, trying to focus on your classes. This semester, you’re one step closer to actually becoming a doctor, something that requires your full dedication. You also have an important project in your academic league. There’s no time for distractions like this. 

But then, you see something. 

Something that makes your confident strides slow until they stop completely. Your eyes sting with unshed tears. The bitter taste of a broken heart rises in your throat, exploding on your tongue. Because standing right in front of you there’s a tall figure with a hair that’s no longer as long as before and no longer black— but now a deep, almost maroon shade of red. And beside him, a girl of average height, who has her hand clasped in his hand while her head rests lightly on his arm. “B- Beomgyu?”.

Are you having a deja vu?

It doesn’t make sense. It makes even less sense than it did with Wonwoo. Maybe they are just friends, you and Yunah also cling to Kai like that. But the confirmation of the inevitable comes when your eyes meet— there's no longer that heat that provoked you throughout almost the entire trip. It’s like there’s nothing left inside of him. 

Looking away from you, he grabs the girl’s hips and abruptly presses her against the lockers, sealing his lips to hers just as intensely as he did with you. He’s hurting you on purpose. You know this isn’t just a coincidence, not some sudden impulse— it is calculated, meant for you to see, to feel the pain. And it works cause your instincts kick in, and anxiety spreads through you like wildfire, reaching every last nerve in your body. You turn your face away, knowing that if you keep watching, you’ll collapse right there in the middle of the hallway, and break apart. So, just like at the end of last semester, you let your feet guide you blindly, aimlessly, in a desperate, yet futile, attempt to escape the nightmare you're living. Why is this happening again?, you ask yourself. 

The wind crashes against your sobbing face, and that’s when you realize— you’re outside, at the very place where your fate was sealed at the end of last spring: the skatepark. You breathe heavily, watching the skaters rise and fall on the bowl ramps, the clouds shifting with the wind. The sun is light, the sky, maroon, the same color as Beomgyu’s hair. But he won’t save you this time. 

You turn to leave but bump into a broad and solid chest, which belongs to a man as tall as a lamppost. “S-Soobin?”, who had witnessed the entire scene, opens his mouth and closes it a few times before finally managing to speak, his voice trembling, consumed by anger, “Yn… can we talk?”. You nod, too drained to say anything other than, “Alright”.

The scent of paint fills the art room as you sit at one of the tables, watching Soobin pace back and forth, struggling to piece together something that both makes sense and doesn’t completely destroy you in just a few words. The sound of his footsteps is already starting to irritate you— you should be in class, not watching him hit his daily step count. Clearing your throat, you hop off the table, “Look, Soobin, I have a lot to do, so if you’re not going to say anything, please just let me go”. 

He finally stops walking and blocks the door, “No… please, don’t go. I…”, he runs his fingers through his hair and exhales sharply,  “...I lied to you when you asked me about him”. You cross your arms, “I noticed” “I’m sorry. I… I don’t know why I protected that idiot”. His voice is heavy with guilt, “I tried telling him that ignoring you wasn’t a good idea. I tried to understand why he was doing this when all he ever did  when we were at the beach was talk about you, think about you, but nothing made sense. Nothing makes sense” “He… talked about me?” “Yes! That day when you and Yunah showed up after the storm, I was teasing him about the closet game”, he says with a small smile, as if recalling how Beomgyu had turned red with anger at the mere thought of his best friend assuming he would ever disrespect you like that.

 You swallow hard, forcing the back tears, trying not to ache from how much you miss him, “I asked him if, well, you know…”, Soobin hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck, “And he got so mad at me. He said you deserve more than just a quick fuck in a closet during a drinking game with a guy you barely knew”. He chuckles, lost in the memory, “I don’t think he ever thought that way about anyone else, you know? That’s why, when we came back home and he just disappeared for an entire month, only to show up later and tell me all the shit he was doing…”, Soobin clenches his jaw. His previously pale cheeks are now colored in pink, and the vein in his forehead is prominent, “... I just refused to believe it”. 

He takes a deep breath in and rubs his temples before continuing, “I thought he was finally going to settle down with someone, but if I had known he was just going to throw himself into reckless parties and grab the first girl in front of him to put a damn couple ring on her finger, I would’ve warned you”. He walks over and pulls you into a tight hug, crushing you against his chest until you can barely breathe, “I’m sorry, YN”. The warmth of fresh tears slides down your cheeks as you hug him just as tightly, “It’s not your fault, Soobin. I was the one who misread everything”. He pulls back just enough to look at you without letting go, “No, YN. Don’t think that way. You didn’t do anything wrong, he’s the one being an asshole” “I just thought it was mutual. I felt like it was mutual. Or at least, I thought I did”, you sob, “But god… I miss him so much. Why do I have to lose him like this over a stupid misunderstanding?”. Soobin cups your face with his large hand, wiping away your tears, looking at you with pitiful eyes, “You should try talking to him. Maybe you two can at least be friends” “I can’t be his friend. Not when I know he holds someone else the way he held me”. He nods,“That’s okay. You don’t have to be his friend. But… at least try to talk to him. Just to… to be rejected”. You blink at him, stunned, “What?” “I know it sounds ridiculous, but… it’ll be easier for you to move on that way. Promise me you’ll at least consider it”. You hesitate, then nod. “Okay, Soobin. I promise”.  

But deep down, you’re not sure you have the courage to let him go.  

At least, not yet.

Days passed, and everything you did hurt. From waking up in the morning knowing that Beomgyu was never really yours, to having to watch him making out with his new girlfriend in the college hallways. In class, everything is unbearable— you stare at the professors' slides, but you don’t hear their voices. By the time you realize it, the lecture is already over, and your notebook remains blank. Your body feels heavy as you head home, doing nothing but throwing yourself on your bed and crying. You can’t even remember the last time you attended an academic league meeting.  

You drag yourself down the streets, seeing him in every face. The guys with long hair are just reminders of the person he erased by changing his appearance as if he wanted the version of himself that had you to never have existed. But you remember— and you doubt you'll forget anytime soon.  

Until one day, you go to meet Huening Kai in the music room and instead, you find him— Choi Beomgyu, pulling a guitar out of its case. 

Immediately, you freeze. Your fingers stiffen around the doorknob, your feet know you should turn around and leave before he notices your presence, but the only thing they manage to do is stay rooted to the spot, as if the floor beneath you had turned into quicksand. Inevitably, his gaze lifts and lands on your rigid figure. He tries to mask whatever is going on inside him, but you can see the storm of thoughts flashing across his face, "Yn…", his voice makes you shiver. It feels distant since you haven't heard it in so long, yet at the same time, it's as familiar as your own.  

Your eyes land on the shimmering ring around his finger, you feel stabbed. You just want to run and yet, you just want to hold him, to pull him against your chest and never let him go again. You shift your ankle, ready to leave, but then you remember the advice all your friends gave you: Let him reject you and move on.  

Taking a deep breath, you step inside the room, letting the door close behind you, "Have you seen Huening Kai?" "Huening? Not here"  "What?!”. You grab your phone, the first notification coming from him:  

‘Family drama with Lea 🫠’

‘I’ll call you later’

It was delivered an hour ago. You exhale deeply. So this encounter could have been avoided. Great. But you move forward. Sooner or later, this moment was bound to come. Slipping your phone back into your pocket, you say, "I thought you majored in Fine Arts" "I do, but I come here from time to time to play". He lifts the guitar in his hands, pretending he doesn’t know where you’re actually trying to go with this. "I guess I think I know you too well when in reality, I don’t know anything at all". 

He watches you for a few seconds before setting the guitar down on its stand and stepping closer, "Look, Yn…". But your voice, thick with unshed tears, cuts him off. You’ve been overwhelmed with emotions for weeks, "I-I don’t understand. Why are you with her?" "Because I love her" "L-love?" "Yeah, Yn. I love her". He says he loves her but he has no emotion in his voice. "But... what about me? What about us?" "We had nothing, Yn. It was just a summer trip between friends". Friends. His words hit you like an arrow right in the middle of your chest, "Friends?! What about the things we did…”, you lower your voice, “.... In the bedroom?” “It was pure physical, Yn. I was just… in the mood”. No fucking way that motherfucker is saying that. “Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it too, Choi Beomgyu! I know you felt it!” “How are you so sure, Yn!? Huh?! Did I say something?”, his voice is loud, angry, “Cause I felt it too…”. Did you really just… confused everything again? Did he actually use you and you weren't even aware of that?!

 He buries his face in his hands, letting a frustrated groan out, you are making everything more difficult for him. When he looks at you again he seems tired, his whole energy being drained, "Look, Yn, I’m sorry, but…" "No! Don’t apologize”, you interrupt him, sniffing, “I think it’s time for me to be rejected by you, to move on with my life. But for some reason, I still held on this tiny shred of hope, thinking you'd give me a real explanation or something that actually made sense", you chuckle, bitter, “I’m so stupid” "Yn... I like you. But liking you isn’t enough to make this work” "I never wanted to be ‘enough’, Beomgyu, I just... wanted to be with you". 

His gaze burns yours, you know he wants to say something— it’s written in his eyes. But nothing comes out of his mouth, the only sound you hear from him is his heavy breath, “I thought you felt the same way, but I was wrong. I see that now”, you pause again, giving him one last chance to say something, to try to fix things, but you only get his silence. “Goodbye, Beomgyu”, are your last words before walking out the door— without thinking twice or looking back.

The following months were chaotic. You entered focus mode, and your life began to revolve around one thing only— your studies. Well, not entirely. You also spent a lot of time with your friends, both old and new, the ones you made over the summer. They all became your biggest support system. Soobin, who studies computer science, helped you create incredible slides. Yeonjun picked out your outfit. Taehyun prepared an energy packed snack just for you. And as always, Yunah and Kai made sure to drown you in love.  

Now, standing on the auditorium stage, with all those people seated, waiting for you to begin your presentation, the nerves don’t feel as overwhelming anymore— thanks to them. And Beomgyu? You still think about him, but you've realized that your life is still a good one, with or without him.  

The room is silent, except for the faint sound of chairs shifting as students adjust in their seats. Your heart pounds in your chest— ironically, the very organ you studied for this presentation. You don’t see him, but Beomgyu is there, standing in the back, arms crossed over his chest. He shouldn't be here, but he is.  

The lights darken. 

You clear your throat and bring the microphone close to your lips, "The heart does more than just pump blood. For centuries, it has been a symbol of human emotions, and modern science confirms that this is more than just a metaphor”. The slide changes, revealing a diagram of the heart and its connections to the nervous system, "The heart is not just a pump that sends blood through the body. It contains a huge network with about 40,000 neurons, allowing it to communicate directly with the brain. This communication happens through the vagus nerve, a neural pathway that carries signals between the brain and vital organs”.  

You pause, scanning the room. Beomgyu is there, in the back, eyes locked on you. The last thing you expected was to see him. However, you stand firm, "When we feel intense emotions, the heart reacts before the brain has even fully processed the information. That’s why our heartbeat speeds up before an important moment, or why we feel a tightness in our chest when we’re sad”. 

You move to the next slide: a graph showing how heart rate fluctuates in response to different emotions, "Our heart doesn’t just respond to emotions, it can influence them. Studies show that heart rate directly affects brain regions responsible for emotional processing. Breathing techniques that regulate the heartbeats, such as meditation, help reduce stress and anxiety”.

You step slightly to the side, making space for the next slide: an image of a human heart intertwined with brain waves. "The brain releases hormones like oxytocin, the so-called ‘love molecule,’ and adrenaline, which prepares us for intense emotional reactions. The heart doesn’t produce these hormones, but it responds to them, regulating how we experience emotions in our body”. 

Finally, the last slide appears: the drawing Beomgyu made for you—a human heart, sketched in graphite on a notepad, rich in detail despite its rough edges. In the corner of the paper, is written:

‘This my heart, I’m giving it to you’.

That's the same drawing that had been hidden in the paper he secretly slipped into the pocket of the hoodie you were wearing. Almost like he was quite literally giving you his heart at that moment.  

This time, it’s his heart that races.  

"The heart and the brain work together to shape our emotions. Maybe that’s why, when we lose someone or something important, it feels like something inside us has physically broken. Because, in a figurative way, it has”. Your voice wavers on the last sentence, and finally, your eyes find his. For a second, everything else disappears— the classmates, the professor, the slides, it’s just the two of you and the weight of everything left unsaid. You continue, "But the heart also adapts”, you smile, shifting your gaze to your friends in the front row, all of them watching with eyes full of pride. "It can hurt, but it keeps beating. And that means we move forward”.

And then, the lights bright again. The silence lasts only for a moment before the professor starts clapping, followed by everyone else in the room. 

But Beomgyu doesn’t move. He stays there, frozen, his eyes fixed on you, as if he were reliving something he tried so hard to forget— yet failed miserably.  

And in that moment, you knew your words had reached exactly where they needed to. 

The air inside that auditorium feels increasingly rare, Beomgyu needs to get out of there. Heading straight for his locker, he grabs his skateboard and headphones before making his way to the skate park— the only place where his mind goes blank, focusing only on what he is doing.  

The late afternoon is cold, the sky moonless, and the faint streetlights create long shadows across the empty park. Beomgyu kicks his skateboard forward, his headphones hanging around his neck, there’s no music playing. The sound of the wheels gliding over the concrete is the only thing filling the silence. He shouldn't have been in that auditorium. 

After the presentation ended, he left before anyone could come after him, but his mind is still trapped on that stage— trapped on you. The words echoes in his head:

"But the heart also adapts…

… It can hurt, but it keeps beating. And that means we move forward”.

Have you really moved on? Beomgyu runs his tongue over his lips, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth— the taste of regret. He wants to believe you have. He wants to believe your words weren’t meant for him. But then why does it feel like every single one of them had been constructed specifically to bury him deeper in his own remorse?  

He bends his knees, picking up speed, the wind cutting against his face. If he can go faster, maybe he can overtake the suffocating grip on his chest. But no matter how fast he goes, the truth always catches him up. The image of the last slide flashes through his mind: his drawing. You still have it. You still see meaning in it. 

His gaze shifts to the flickering park lights, his chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. Your words came back like a punch to the gut:

"It feels like something inside us has physically broken. Because, in a figurative way, it has”.  

Your heart had broken— because of him. The realization hit harder than any fall he ever took. And then, as if his body had decided to punish him, the skateboard’s wheel get stuck on a crack in the pavement. 

The impact comes too fast. 

He doesn’t even have time to react before the world starts spinning, his weight pushing him forward, his hands instinctively reaching out to stop the fall. A shock runs through his arm as soon as he hits the ground, his body sliding against the rough concrete. His skateboard rolled away, stopping only when it hit the park’s railing. Beomgyu stays there, immobile, eyes fixed on the ring around his finger— completely meaningless. He doesn’t know what hurt more— the sting of the fresh wound on his skin or the certainty that he lost something he might never get back.  

The cold pavement chills him to the bone, still he doesn’t move. His chest rises and falls in short, uneven breaths. The adrenaline masks the pain for a moment, but then it comes back in waves. His arm burns and his shoulder throbs in a way that makes his stomach turn. He closes his eyes shut. Idiot— that’s what he is. An idiot for thinking he could just let you go and feel nothing. An idiot for realizing too late that he will never be able to convince himself that you were just a summer distraction.  

He takes a deep breath in, trying to compose himself, but the moment he pushes up on his right arm to get up, a sharp jolt of pain spreads through his shoulder, forcing a low groan from his lips. “Shit…”, he rolls on his side, body tense with pain and lays there for a few more seconds, staring at his skateboard standing a few feet away.  

Different from when he fell the day he met you, there’s nothing to laugh about right now.

That’s how one of the guys of the skatepark finds him— sprawled on the ground with a blank expression, like the fall had hurt something beyond just his body, “Dude, are you okay?”. Beomgyu blinks a few times before responding, his throat dry, “I’m great”. The attempt of sarcasm is weak. The guy doesn’t seem convinced but doesn’t push it, tho. Instead, he crouches down, grabs Beomgyu’s skateboard, and offers him a hand. 

Beomgyu hesitates before accepting the help, pulling himself up with a grimace. The pain in his right shoulder is unbearable, and he knows something isn’t right, “You should go to the hospital”, the guy suggests, arms crossed. Beomgyu let out a short, humorless laugh, “I don’t need to”. But the moment he takes a step forward, his body wavers, pain spreading through every fiber of his being, “Great”, he mutters. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he needs help. 

And that’s exactly why, less than an hour later, he finds himself sitting in one of the hospital’s cold hallways, his arm resting on his lap, the cut on his elbow covered by his flannel shirt. The hospital smells like disinfectant and melancholy. Beomgyu watches the nurses and patients passing by, his head still spinning— but not from the fall. Because of you. Always because of you. 

And then, as if the universe decided to make his night even worse, he hears a familiar voice echoing down the corridor— your voice. His heart skips a beat. He looks up at the exact moment you appear at the reception desk, worry written all over your face as you speak to the nurse behind the counter, “Sorry, but what’s the patient’s name?”, she asks.

You are there. And just behind you, Soobin and Taehyun, who exchange tense glances. Beomgyu clenches his jaw, fingers tightening around the chair's armrest. When he called Soobin, he didn’t expect him to bring you along. The last thing he needs is you to see him like this.  

But it is already too late, your eyes finally meet his. For a moment, neither of you move. Beomgyu’s heart pounds against his ribs, your words still hammering in his head:

 “It can hurt, but it keeps beating. And that means we move forward”.

But he hadn’t moved on. And judging by the pain in your eyes, neither had you.  

“Beomgyu?”, your voice comes out as quiet as a whisper, and then you are already walking toward him— with quick, hesitant steps. Soobin and Taehyun follow you, stopping a little behind, without saying anything.  When you stand in front of him, your eyes trail over his face, down to the cut on his elbow, and how he grasps his shoulder, “W-what happened?”. Beomgyu opens his mouth to answer but hesitates— he doesn’t  want to tell you the truth. Imagine looking into your eyes and saying: I fell because I was thinking about you. Because my mind was stuck on that damn presentation. On your smile. On your voice. 

Saying it out loud would only make it all even more real. So he just shrugs, or at least tries to, because the movement sends a sharp pain through his shoulder, making his face twist in discomfort, “It was just a fall”. You narrow your eyes, clearly unconvinced, “Just a fall!? You have a cut on your arm and you’re holding your shoulder like it’s dislocated. That’s not ‘just a fall,’ Beomgyu!”, disbelief is evident in your voice. But he looks away, “It’s not a big deal”.  

Without patience and without asking for permission, you kneel beside him, fingers lightly touching the bloodstained fabric of his flannel. He holds his breath. Your touch is gentle, but it makes something twist inside him. Your face is close enough that he can see every detail— the long eyelashes, the curve of the lips he had kissed once, now frowned in worry. And he never wanted something so badly as he wants you to look at him the way you used to.  

But then, you break the silence, pulling him from his thoughts, "Why do you always do this?", he blinks, "Do what?" "Get yourself hurt”. Beomgyu clenches his jaw, for a second, he considers answering with a joke, saying it’s because you’re always there to save him. In a dismissive tone, like he always does. But he doesn’t have that right anymore— it’s written in your eyes.

Before he can say anything, the nurse calls his name, "Do you need someone to accompany you, Mr. Choi?". He looks at the three of you, waiting, hoping that even after everything, one of you might volunteer, "Where’s your girlfriend?”, Soobin teases. "I- I didn’t call her”, Beomgyu mumbles, voice low, almost ashamed. "I’ll go with you”, you don’t say it as a suggestion or a question— it’s a statement.

 It’s not a good idea to be alone with you. But he doesn’t have the strength to say no. So he just nods. And as you both walk into the examination room, Beomgyu has the strange feeling that, no matter how shattered his body is, there’s another part of him that hurts even more.

The examination room is small, with white walls and bright lighting. Beomgyu sits on the examination table, watching you in silence as the nurse cleans the cut on his arm. You don’t say anything, but your shoulders are tense, arms crossed as if trying to shield yourself from something. The tension is palpable. When the nurse finishes bandaging him up, she lets him know that the doctor will be there soon to examine his shoulder. 

As soon as she leaves, you take a step forward, finally breaking the silence. “Are you going to tell me now what really happened?”. Beomgyu exhales sharply and looks away, “I already told you, I just fell” “Beomgyu”, you say his name firmly. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the feeling of drowning. When he opens them again, you're still there, waiting. Even when he doesn't deserve it.  

He runs his tongue over his dry lips before murmuring, “I was distracted”, you frown, “By what?”. He hesitates but decides to tell the truth before he can stop himself, “You”.

The silence that follows is deafening. You blink, startled, “What?!”. Beomgyu lets out a humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair, “I was thinking about your presentation”. He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his voice low, almost defeated, “Your words, mainly”. You don’t say anything, but he notices the way your breathing falters. He laughs again, shaking his head, “About how the heart adapts. How it suffers but keeps beating”. He swallows hard, then looks at you as if finally admitting to himself something he had been denying for months, “But mine didn’t”.

The air between you grows heavier.  

You part your lips, but no words come out. So he continues, his voice rough now, “I thought forgetting you was the right thing to do. That it would be easier”. He lets out a short, bitter laugh, “But it’s not. If anything, it’s worse”. Your eyes shimmer, and Beomgyu doesn’t know if it’s from the light or something else.  

You finally break the silence, your voice soft but steady, “Then why did you do it?”. Beomgyu’s chest tightens, “Because I was scared”, he runs a hand down his face, exhausted— running away from you is exhausting. “I was scared of hurting you. Of not being enough for you and then losing you, Yn”. He laughs at his own stupidity, “I was terrified of you losing you, but in the end, I just ended up hurting both of us, didn’t I?”. You keep looking at him, your gaze piercing through all the walls he tried to build. When you finally speak, your voice is a whisper, “Yes. Yes, you did”.  

He opens his mouth to say something, to tell you how sorry he is, when the door opens, and the doctor walks in. And just like that, it ends with words stuck in his throat. Beomgyu closes his mouth, swallowing everything he still wants to say. You take a step back, arms crossing over your chest again.  

“So, Choi Beomgyu, right?”, the doctor glances at the papers, “Looks like you got lucky. The shoulder isn’t dislocated, just a bad bruise. I’ll prescribe an anti-inflammatory and recommend some rest for a few days. No skating for the next 2 months”. Beomgyu lets out a small relieved grin, “That’s good”. You remain silent, but he can feel your gaze burning into him. “I’ll ask the nurse to bring your discharge papers”. The doctor gives a brief nod and leaves, once again leaving you two alone.  

The silence returns.  

Beomgyu looks down at the bandage on his arm, flexing his elbow slowly. He knows he has to say something before it’s too late, “Yn…”, you lift your eyes, “I know that…” “Why did you go?”. Your question catches him off guard. You cross your arms tighter, as if holding yourself together, “To the presentation. You weren’t supposed to be there. But you showed up anyway”. Beomgyu blinks, “I…”, he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Because I missed you. I needed to see you” “Did you at least get what you wanted?”. The pain and resentment in your voice are so sharp it physically hurts him. 

Beomgyu shakes his head, “No. I know it was selfish of me” “You hurt me, Beomgyu, you know that?”. He closes his eyes for a moment, the weight of guilt pressing down on him like a burden too heavy to bear, “I know”. When he opens his eyes again, his voice is raw, honest, “And I hate myself for it”   

Your shoulders tremble slightly, but you hold yourself firm. Beomgyu inhales deeply before continuing, “I ran away because I thought it would be easier for you. But watching you move on without me… it’s unbearable. I don’t want to pretend I don’t care anymore. That I don’t…”. He stops, his throat tightening. You wait, knowing that pushing him won’t help. But then Beomgyu forces the words out, even though they hurt, “That I don’t love you” 

You don’t move, don’t blink, just stare at him like you’re trying to process what you just heard. Beomgyu exhales, feeling like he just ripped something open inside him, “Because I do”. His voice falters, overflowing with emotions, “And I’m an idiot for only admitting it now”  

You blink a few times, trying to push back the tears. What is left to say after a confession like that? 

Suddenly the nurse walks in with the discharge papers, and the moment is broken, giving you time to think, “I need you to sign here, please”. Beomgyu takes the pen, his hand trembling slightly as he signs. When he’s done, he looks at you again, waiting— waiting for any reaction. But you only avoid his gaze and murmur, “Let’s go. I’ll take you home”.  

Beomgyu nods, swallowing hard. He still didn’t have an answer, but you didn't yell, didn't hit him, or threw anything at him, which had to be a good sign. Or at least, he liked to think so.  

And maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance— a chance to get you back. 

The silence in the car is heavy, dense— just like it  in the hospital. You keep your eyes fixed on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, while Beomgyu watches you from the corner of his eye, his body aching against the seat. "You drive too fast”, he comments, breaking the silence.  

You scoff but don't slow down, "And you skate like you have 9 lives”. Beomgyu smirks, "Maybe I just like the adrenaline" "Or maybe you’re just stupid". He lets out a low chuckle, "Strong possibility". Your grip even tighter on the wheel, "Are you mad at me?". His voice is more serious now.

You bite your lip but don't answer. Beomgyu leans in slightly, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, "If it’s because of what I said in the hospital, I…" "It’s not just about what you said, Beomgyu!”, you cut him off, frustration thick in your voice, "It’s about everything. About how you left. About how you came back. About how...". Your voice fades, your fingers loosening on the wheel.  

Beomgyu watches as your throat moves when you swallow hard. This time, he waits for you. Until you exhale slowly and, for the first time, turn your head to look at him, "You can’t just disappear, destroy me, and then come back saying you love me like that’s supposed to fix everything”. Beomgyu’s chest tightened, fear swallowing him whole, "I know". You scoff again, “Do you?” "Yes", he wets his lips, "But I’m still here, trying, ain't I?". He leans in a little more, his face now dangerously close to yours, "And so are you”.

Your jaw clenches, "Don’t test me, Beomgyu”. He smiles, "Why not?" "Because I’m still mad” "I like  when you’re mad”, he murmurs, his voice low— almost like he was testing you. "You look sexy like this”. You turn to face him fully, your gazes locking for the first time in what felt like forever. And there it is— the tension that always existed between you, the spark that never went out.  

Your eyes flicker down to his lips, and Beomgyu notices. The corner of his mouth lifts slightly, "You miss me”, he taunts, voice slow, provocative. "I don’t”, you lied. Beomgyu lets out a soft laugh, "You’re such a bad liar, babygirl”. 

The nickname triggers something in you— the last night of the trip, your first and only time together. 

Your fingers abruptly let go of the wheel as you suddenly park the car, hitting the brakes hard. Beomgyu’s body jerks forward slightly, but he barely notices. Because the next thing he sees is you turning to him, breathing heavily, "You wanna know what I feel?", you ask, your eyes burning into him. He doesn't answer, he just holds your gaze, his fingers unconsciously gripping the fabric of his ripped jeans.  

You lean in, "I feel anger, I feel frustration", your face is even closer now, "I feel like...". You stop, your lips hovering just a breath away from his. 

But Beomgyu doesn't move. Doesn't even breathe. "Like what?", he murmurs, voice almost a whisper. Your gaze flickers to his lips again. 

And then, you let out a shaky breath, close your eyes for a second, and... pull back. Beomgyu blinks, surprised, already missing the warmth of your breath.  

You turn back to the wheel, start the engine again, and let out a short laugh, like you are mocking yourself, "I’m not falling for this again”, you say more to yourself than to him.  

Beomgyu watches you in silence for a moment. Then, he leans back in his seat and smirks, satisfied, "Let’s see how long that lasts".

With Beomgyu, you felt everything:

The euphoria of falling in love for the first time,

the shy giggles,

the tension between your bodies,

the sweaty hands,

the pounding heart,

the constant tingling in your stomach.

One hundred times. 

And still, he manages to still make you feel like that over and over again.

The car comes back to the road, but now, the electricity in the air between you is almost asphyxiating. 

He glances down at his hands, the moonlight catching the silver ring on his finger. Without a second thought, he grips at it with the little strength he had left and yanks it off, tossing it out the window without looking back.  

Your lips parts slightly, disbelief flickering across your face.  

And in that moment, you both know.  

It isn’t over.  

It never has been.

EPILOGUE:

The evening breeze blows softly, rustling the leaves around the skatepark. The sky is painted in shades of orange, and you wonder— not for the first time— how the hell you had let Beomgyu convince you to do this.  

You look at the skateboard in front of you, hesitant. Knee pads, elbow pads, helmet— you looked more prepared for battle than for skating. Beomgyu, on the other hand, watches everything with evident amusement, "You look like you're about to face the apocalypse, not just learn how to skate", he teases, leaning casually against the railing, arms crossed, a mischievous smile curving his lips.  

"Easy for you to say", you shoot back, eyeing the board suspiciously, "You're not the one who is risking falling and breaking your teeth". He chuckles, pushing off the railing to step closer. The warmth of his presence is almost tangible as he stops behind you, his hands settling gently on your shoulders, "Don't worry, princess", he murmurs, way too close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine, “If you fall, I'll catch you”.  

Before you can say anything, his hands slide down to your waist, delicate yet firm, making your breath hitch for a second. He leans in slightly, lips hovering just near your ear, "Relax. You trust me, don’t you?". You scoff, trying to ignore the heat rising to your face, "You're the first to laugh when I fall. Don’t play the nice guy now”.

 Beomgyu smirks, his hands slowly gliding down your arms before gripping them firmly, "Trust me”, he whispers, his voice low and lazy, carrying that usual calm tone that makes your heart pick up speed. "Put one foot on the board… yeah, just like that. Now relax” "Relax?!". You let out a dry laugh as he slides one hand back to your waist, his fingers pressing lightly against your side, "I'm about to eat the pavement, and you want me to relax?".

He dips his head closer to your ear, his smile practically audible, "You'll be fine. I promise". You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the way his touch sends warmth coursing through your chest. His hand still guides yours as he adjusts your posture, positioning you just right before stepping back, his gaze following your every move.  

"Now, just push off slowly with your back foot and let the board slide". You follow his instructions, but the second you try to move forward, the skateboard shakes beneath your feet. Your heart skips a beat, and you instinctively grab his arm. Beomgyu laughs, clearly enjoying himself, "Look at that, already holding onto me? We haven’t even started yet" "I swear, if you tease me one more time, I…” "You’ll do what?". He cut in, leaning even closer, his eyes sparkling with challenge, "Knock me over? Because honestly, I think you're the one who's gonna hit the ground first”. You stare at him, your stomach twisting in the most frustrating way possible. Beomgyu has this effect on you— he knows exactly how to push you to the edge. But you aren't going to give him the satisfaction. 

So instead of responding, you let go of his arm, fix your posture and, taking a deep breath, push off with your back foot. The skateboard rolls smoothly, and you feel the balance settle into your body.  

For a moment, there is silence. Then Beomgyu smiles, walking alongside you, his hands hovering near your sides— not touching, but close enough for you to know that he is there, ready to catch you at any moment. "Look at you, already mastering it", he teases you, his voice carrying amusement. "It's only because you're still holding on”,  you shoot back. "Oh, really?”, he raises an eyebrow, the challenge glinting in his brown eye, "Are you telling me to let go?" "No!", you answer way too fast, and he laughs. "So just admit it”,  he leans in, his nose almost brushing your cheek, "You like it when I hold you like this”.  

Your face burns, and you bump your shoulder into him lightly, "Shut up and teach me properly” "Yes, ma'am!”. He grins, his hands returning to your waist, thumbs subtly brushing over the fabric of your shirt. His laughter is light, effortless— just like everything the two of you had always been.  

And between the teasing and laughter, you realize it isn't just about learning how to skate. It is about how, after everything, he is still there. About how his hands find yours at the right moments. About how his laugh is the last thing you hear before falling— and the first thing pulling you back into his arms. 

In the end, you never really needed him to hold you.  

But still, he did.

[bruisedboys]

reader and peeta showering together after a hard day (just some innocent intimacy nothing suggestive) 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 love this man sm 😭🤞🏻🤞🏻

!!!!!! thank you for the req angel <3 this inspired me so so much! thanks for kickstarting my writing for peeta era hehe

peeta mellark x fem!reader 16+ please for non-sexual nudity. not really in universe but can read as post mockingjay if you want it to!

Peeta’s sketching on the bed when you come inside. One knee propped up with his back against the wall behind the bed, his sketchbook pressed against his thigh. His golden hair falls over his forehead, messy where he’s been too distracted by his drawing to push it back.

He looks up when you enter, smiling a bruising smile you don’t feel deserving of.

“Hey. Hey, sweetheart.” It’s alarming how quickly he sets aside his book and pencil to reach for you, as if he hadn’t been immersed in his sketching mere seconds ago. “C’mere, I missed you.”

As much as you’d like to be wrapped in his strong arms right now, you’re filthy, and he’s just changed the sheets earlier today.

“I can’t. I’m all dirty, see?” You wiggle your dirt-covered hands at him. You’ve been in the garden all afternoon. Time drifted away from you as you planted a new batch of tomato seeds. By the time you were done, the sun was setting and you hadn’t even realised. Your knees are stained dark brown and you’ve got dirt up to your elbows. “I’ll shower first, then we can cuddle. Sorry, baby.”

Peeta looks decidedly put out. You turn away from him before he can convince you any further, because you know if he looks at you like that for much longer you’ll give in. You pull fresh clothes from your side of the dresser and then move down the hallway to the bathroom.

The showers warming up and you’re starting to undress when Peeta knocks on the door. It’s unlocked, and he doesn’t have to, but he knocks anyway.

“It’s me,” he says. Who else would it be? You think. Silly man. “Can I come in?”

You pull the door open for him instead of answering. You’re halfway out of your clothes but it doesn’t phase him. Sure, he looks, but not for long, and not in a way that would suggest anything other than affection.

“Hey,” he says. He pushes the door closed behind him. The shower runs in the background, a peaceful thrum. “Do you mind if I join you? You can say no.”

You huff a soft laugh. He should know by now that saying no to him is a near impossible feat. “Yeah, of course. I don’t mind.”

You finish undressing quickly, eager to be clean and warm. Peeta leaves to get fresh towels while you hop in under the hot spray. The majority of the dirt on your skin has been rinsed by the time he gets back. You hear him moving around the bathroom for a minute or so before he pulls the shower curtain aside. You let him in, moving aside to make space for him. It’s tight, but it’s not uncomfortable. Weirdly, it’s almost a perfect fit for the two of you.

Peeta moves under the shower head and the water quickly drenches one half of his hair and one of his shoulders. His big hand slides over your hip and he carefully moves you into a position where you’ve both got equal spray.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. He’s so close you could count his freckles, each light brown spot scattered across his collarbones.

“Hello,” you say back. His thumb rubs your hipbone, up down, up down. “Is it too warm?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

You smile and touch your palm to his cheek. “You okay?” You’re not asking because he seems out of sorts. You’re asking because you want to know, and if he’s not he’ll tell you. He does the same for you. It’s just how you love each other.

Peeta nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. How did your gardening go?”

You beam. You love that he cares about what you care about. “Good. We’ll have tomatoes growing out of our ears by summer, I think.”

Peeta laughs. It’s a brilliant sound that bounces off the shower walls and warms your chest. “Awesome,” he grins. Then, “Hey, you’ve got dirt under your ear.” He reaches behind you to grab the flannel hanging on the shower caddy. “Look that way for me?”

He holds you still with a hand at your jaw and rubs the dirt from your skin so gently you barely feel it. His touch is like a magnet — you’re drawn to it over and over again, no matter how generously he gives it to you. When he asks if he can wash your hair, you’d be crazy if you said no.

“Yeah, please,” you tell him, past caring how desperate and needing of his touch and love you are. He knows, anyway.

Peeta turns you by the hips so your back is to him, then gently tilts your head backwards. You hand him your shampoo and he squeezes a dollop onto his hands, rubbing his palms together before spreading the bubbles over the top of your head. He’s very, very gentle with it, much more than you’ve ever been, massaging the soapy, sweet-smelling bubbles into your hair, fingers rubbing circles onto your scalp. His dedicated touch, along with the gentle thrum and warmth of the shower spray, is enough to almost put you to sleep.

“Okay, you can rinse now,” Peeta speaks up. His tone is soft and you suspect he’s noticed your sleepiness. He gets very soft with you when you’re tired. “Shut your eyes, please.”

You do as he says and he directs you under the spray. He holds a hand over your forehead like a barrier so the bubbles can’t escape and sneak into your closed eyes. The action in itself makes your chest ache. He cares more than you could ever comprehend.

When he’s done rinsing you finish scrubbing the dirt from your knees, your elbows. Peeta washes his own hair, and you help him rinse the same way he did for you.

“Thank you, angel,” he says. Warm water and soapy bubbles stream over his shoulders, his neck. His eyelashes are wet, clinging to each other in sparkly triangles. He dips down and kisses your shoulder, then your cheek. “Love you.”

You beam. You love him more than anything. You get on your toes to kiss him properly, a warm press of your mouth on his, a promise for more of the same later, when you’re clean and dry and fed. “Love you too, Peeta.”

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

[snail-day]

hi hi hi snail!!!!

i have a big question for you sorry if you've already answer it!!

how do you think, out of yandere man, who would infantilise the reader the most and in which ways?

idk i just had a really weird random thought that some of them could be really dramatic during your period, insisting that you need special care like massages/stretches and etc with which they will of course help cause they believe you are too silly to know such things and cant be trusted to do them properly on your own (we all know where it ends tbh...)

thank you in advance with each of your post i fall in love more and more with your blog (and platonically with you (with your consent))🌹

❄️

mwah mwah mwah

Love you ❄️ anon!!! Apologies if this is bad. 😔 im a bit blind right now but this invaded my thoughts more than I'd like to admit.

TW: Infantilization, slight smut, period care (in his way), Humiliation, Yandere behaviors.

This is so Nanami coded but!! He doesn’t infantilize you by calling you baby names or dressing you in frills (though he does sometimes pat your head a little too often, acting like you’re a particularly slow student who finally got the answer right). He does it by removing your choices (isnt that so sweet?), and making it feel like he’s doing you a favor.

It starts with your period, sure. You're tired. He gets it. So let him handle dinner tonight. Let him draw the bath, pick your clothes, rub the cramps out of your belly with slow, circular movements while chastising you about how you always try to push yourself too hard.

Nanami doesn’t trust really most menstrual products. He’s read too many clinical papers, knows exactly how common TSS is and how poorly most products are regulated. He doesn't like the idea of anything being inserted unless it's medically necessary, or unless he’s the one putting it there. (You always get so squeamish when he tries to put the tampons in)

Tampons? Too invasive for yourself to do and you won't let him do it. Claiming its gross. So what if he's licking his fingers afterwards. Its you. Menstrual cups? Never, too foreign. Pads? Uncomfortable, messy. Sometimes they're bleached. What if you get a UTI? No. It’s all too much risk.

So, he handles it.

He doesn’t forbid you from using them. Not exactly.

He just starts leaving alternatives on your side of the bed. Softer, organic pads folded neatly in a linen pouch. Washable, reusable, gentler for your skin. No dyes. No fragrances. “Better for your pH,” he murmurs softly. “Less risk.”

He always says it so calmly. So kindly. And it’s hard to argue when he’s already drawing your bath, one hand stirring the water to check the heat while the other rests briefly on your waist, keeping his silly girl beside him. You don’t even notice how often you stop making your own decisions.

He insists on helping with cleanup. Always has. Not in a humiliating way, at least not in his eyes. Gentle touches. No fanfare. Just his hands and his voice and the faint scent of sandalwood as he kneels between your legs, work sleeves rolled up.

“Looks like you bled yourself again,” he says softly, more observation than complaint. “No, baby, they don’t make heavier ones (they do). Just let me take care of you, okay?”

His breath brushes against your damp ruined panties, and your thighs tense without meaning to. You can almost see the need in his eyes at the bloody mess you made.

“Sit back,” he murmurs. “I’ve got it. You just look pretty for me.”

His thumbs hook the sides of your panties, sliding them down with ease, his fingers grazing your skin with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. He steadies you with palms braced gently on your hips, firm enough to say stay still. His eyes flick up to your face, reading every microexpression as his hands return to the mess between your thighs.

But it’s never just that. You know that now.

Because the moment your breathing changes, the second your thighs twitch or your voice falters, he notices. Doesn’t stop.

“Sensitive today, aren’t we?” he hums, wiping you clean with slow, gentle movements. Not cruel. Not teasing. Just... aware. Like he’s logging each reaction, committing it to memory. His fingers linger, just slightly. Press a little firmer. Trace lower until you're bucking into his palm.

“You’d rush this,” he says gently, brushing along your skin with the cool damp towel. "It's why I need to take care of you"

He shifts to sit more comfortably, one hand stroking along your inner thigh while the other continues cleaning you, soft cloth passing over your folds, too tender to be neutral. Then he sets it aside.

“Are your cramps bad?” he asks, thumb beginning to draw slow, soothing circles over your clit. The tone is so sincere it makes your stomach twist. Like he really wants to know. Like he’s trying to ease them for you, and not get you wet.

But the pressure deepens. His thumb shifts lower, brushing against your slick entrance. His breathing stays calm, even as yours slips into something needy and short. When your hips buck, reflex, nothing more, he catches them with one large hand and holds you still.

“Oh?” he murmurs, low and thoughtful. “Is this helping... or am I making it worse?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He’s already kissing your belly, then your hipbone. His mouth brushes the plush curve of your inner thigh, reverent and hungry all at once. His other hand strokes your skin, thumb ghosting over the softest part of you like he’s trying to memorize the way it twitches.

“You’re not in the right state of mind to take care of this properly,” he says at last. And his voice is so calm, even now. Even with his face buried so close, his breath making you burn.

“Not when you’re like this,” he adds, lips brushing your skin.

Slow, precise strokes of his fingers dipping inside, testing what makes you gasp, what makes your walls flutter, how you pulse around nothing. He’ll edge you with just enough skill to make your belly tense up, to dull the pain into something soft, flushed, wet. Then he’ll ease off.

“This is what you need,” he says, curling his fingers inside you as you pant out needy whines, hips twitching. “Not pills. Not pads. Not anything foreign inside you.”

And then he pushes in deeper. One finger. Two fingers. Three if he feels like you're ready.

Slow, deep. Curling gently inside. Then maybe more. His mouth. His cock. Something thicker. He’s already cleaned you. You’re already in his care. What difference does it make now?

“You poor thing,” he whispers. “You never know what’s good for you until I show you, do you?”

But then it never stops there.

He orders your groceries. He tracks your supplements. He installs a cycle app on your phone but shares it to his own device too.

And if you argue?

Nanami never raises his voice. He doesn’t fight. He just tilts his head and asks, “Why would you want to take unnecessary risks?” Or worse, he’ll go quiet, disappointed. A quiet so heavy it makes your chest ache. Makes you feel guilty. So how could you not give in?

Because you know he’s not doing this to be cruel. You know he’s doing this because he loves you. Because he doesn’t trust you to care for yourself, not because you’re weak, but because you don’t value yourself as much as he does.

He’ll pick you up early from work without warning. You say, “You didn’t have to,” and he kisses your cheek and answers, “But I did.”

He’ll reorganize your closet to make sure only comfortable things remain. “You looked so uncomfortable in that skirt. I got rid of it.”

He going to control your world without ever admitting it’s control. It’s just what you need right now. Just until you’re better. Just until you can be trusted not to neglect your own well-being. At least thats what he keeps telling you.

[attapullman]

Robert's Laundry Service | Neighbor!Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: A broken washing machine and a clogged bathroom sink lead you and Robert to explore the next part of your secret relationship.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Bob Floyd x afab!reader, no use of pronouns, no y/n, a little angsty, very smutty, 18+ ONLY as always, unprotected PinV, use of sex toys, language, a lot of cum mentions, neighbor!Bob being perfect as usual

A Note From Mo: Did anyone else miss neighbor!Bob? He needed some love, and that's what he's getting today! Thank you to @roosterforme for inspiring this idea that I took entirely too far. If anyone needs me, I'm going to be hoping that he moves into the empty apartment next to mine 🙏 p.s. this takes place before Stupid White Car

It’s hard to pay attention to the bad diagnosis he’s giving when your visual is just those threadbare grey sweats. Painted to his strong thighs, poking out from behind the washer like a personal serving of eye candy. You’re meant to be shining the flash light, but you long abandoned that task in favor of the view.

“…you can borrow mine in the meantime. I’ll call a guy Monday.”

Reluctantly, you draw your eyes from his lower half. Just as his words sink in.

“It’s broken?!”

Robert gives you a kindly amused grin. “Sweetheart, did you hear anything I’ve been saying?”

You grace him with a sheepish smile, caught red-handed.

“The tube disconnected from the wall and needs to be properly - professionally - connected before you use it again. I know it’s not the same, but you can do laundry at mine until someone comes out. I can make you tea and we can watch that undercover dating show you like?” His soft smile is as sweet as his offer.

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Hey now, you like that show too.”

Those cornflower blues shine, glad you’re not objecting. “I do, but only because it’s funny when you yell at the drama.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and guides you away from the laundry, back to where the two of you had been trying to decide on takeout over a game of checkers. Allowing him to drag you down to the couch, hips colliding into the soft fabric, you resume a lovely afternoon with Robert. 

Robert, your helpful Mr. Fix It neighbor. And maybe, one day, your boyfriend.

Robert lending you his laundry room for the weekend is so generous. It feels a bit silly carrying your delicates through his back yard (especially when you know a few pairs are crusty from your…sleepovers) but you’ll take his selfless offer if it means clean laundry and a lovely afternoon spent with him. 

As you work your way past the kitchen, you’re caught off-guard once again by how charming his home is. The little bits of personality, the framed photographs and handmade trinkets. While you know he can’t get any more perfect, his home makes a compelling argument.

The laundry room is fairly unremarkable - washer, dryer, large farmhouse sink for the unsavory jobs too nasty for the kitchen - but you do like his view of the neighborhood from the window. You’re almost curious if anyone will walk by and notice you standing in the wrong house, lacy balconette bra in hand.

Already regretting the amount of folded laundry you’re going to have to haul back through the gate after this, you begin prepping a load of lace and satin. Brainstorming ways to expedite the process, you overshoot pouring detergent into the water-filled drum and spill the cobalt goo all over your hand. Shit.

You rush over to the sink, subjecting yourself to freezing water to wash the detergent off your fingers. Once sufficiently clean, you reach for a cloth to dry off. And that’s when you see it. 

Oh. You’ve never seen one in real life before, just in porn and the odd naughty ad while scrolling. It almost feels as if you’re being punk’d. Like if you sliced through it, it would actually be cake.

A cock ring, soft silicone and all. Casually sitting on the sideboard, freshly cleaned.

Every muscle in your body freezes as the implications of seeing something so private wash over you. Something meant between lovers that you had never seen in the weeks since that fateful night you let him in for a cup of tea. 

It’s been a few days since you had last slept over. A scary sinking feeling fills your gut…was there someone else? 

You had been so focused on the neighborhood not knowing. Staying in your homes, using the back gate. It wasn’t like you had ever verbalized your intentions with him. You couldn’t blame him for thinking the two of you as casual, as much as it twisted your insides.

As your thoughts spiral, there’s motion in the doorway and Robert is suddenly there, big shoulders and a soft smile on his face at seeing you in his space. Exactly where he wants you.

“You get it going in here? Find the detergent okay?”

Those kind cobalt eyes follow your gaze to the sink, where you can’t break your focus on the dark silicone device. The one he meant to put away before you came over. His cheeks flush as he steps into the room to attempt to explain why he has something so private sitting out - in his laundry room of all places.

But as he goes to open his mouth, you cut him off. “You don’t have to explain. I don’t need to know everything in your….sex life. You’re obviously welcome to do whatever you like in the privacy of your home.”

His eyebrows raise, unsure why you seem so upset when the only issue is a clogged sink in the ensuite last night. 

You edge around him, desperate to get out of this space - his space - away from everything that reminds you of him as he figuratively slips through your fingers. “We never discussed being exclusive, so I get it.”

“What are you-?”

Tears threaten to spill over as he follows you toward his back door. “But if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with us seeing other people, so-”

Robert’s eyes bug out of his head. Seeing other people? His blood pressure rises as the dots connect behind those pretty eyes, and suddenly he’s racing to cut you off. You’re faster than you look, but before you can turn the handle of the back door he’s plastered his body against the wood, effectively blocking you from leaving.

The pain behind your eyes begs him to move, to let you run back to the safety of your own home so you can cry and despair over not locking him down sooner. Of course there’s someone else. Of course you’re not the only one who can see how great Robert Floyd is.

“Robert, I need to leave. I need a moment alone. Please.”

But he holds his ground. The second you walk through that door he knows he’s lost you. His eyes are cautious behind those thick lenses, wanting to obey your wishes but the risk of losing you making every nerve stand on end. Whatever is wrong, he can fix this. He will fix it.

“Sweetheart.” His fingers reach into the space between you, hand clenching into a fist when he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to touch you right now. “There isn’t anyone else. I promise, you’re…you’re the only one.”

You eye him hesitantly, wanting to believe his words. But that cock ring has never made an appearance in your sleepovers. Never once brought up when he’s standing between your parted thighs, lips slotted against yours.

“I really want to believe you, I do. But why else would you be cleaning your, erm, toy?” You can’t bring yourself to say cock ring without bursting into frustrated tears.

It’s now that the fight within him drops, and immediately his shoulders release. Embarrassment floods his features and he drops his gaze, no longer able to look you in the eye. This is not how he anticipated bringing this dynamic into your relationship.

“That…it’s…I-I use it when I’m alone. I like to, uh, edge myself.”

His cheeks are flaming and the burning despair inside you dissipates into intrigue. A flame traipses through your abdomen, curious and hungry.

“You use it…alone?”

He desperately nods, tentatively reaching out to grasp your hands, needing to feel you. Those thick, strong fingers rub against your knuckles soothingly. Despite the whiplash of emotions conflicting inside you, his presence immediately soothes and you lean into his touch.

“The nights you can’t come over…I prefer to save my orgasms for you. Only you.”

His blush reflects yours as you look into those ocean-deep eyes, the desperation clear across his features. He’s being honest, laying out every last secret he’s got to keep you here.

“So, there’s no one else?” Your voice feels so small, barely a whisper in the kitchen.

He shakes his head definitively, using his grip on your hands to bring you closer as he stares deep into your eyes. “There’s no one else. And the fact you would even think that means I’m not doing a good enough job proving how much I care for you. Because I like you so much, sweetheart, so, so much.”

The tension in your body breaks, and you allow yourself to lean into his strong body. His panic dissipates as he holds you to him, one arm flush against your waist as his hand holds your face to his chest. He’s never letting you go, of that he knows for sure.

He can’t believe there would be any doubt in your mind of his intentions. The sleepovers, the dinners in, the way he’s made a home between your thighs…that makes you official, doesn’t it? He’s never been one for the right words, but he was pretty sure his actions proved he was in this for the long haul. 

You’re too important to mess up. To allow any seed of doubt to spread. 

His nose traces along your temple, warm breath kissing the delicate skin. “Can I take you to bed, sweetheart?” 

Your face lifts from his chest to take in his honest face. The loose tendril of sun-lightened brunette that’s escaped his neat hairstyle. The thin lopsided smile you trust in. Eyes behind corrected lenses that are serious and playful in the same breath. 

In lieu of an answer, you mold your lips to his, drinking in his taste you’ve deprived yourself of for days. His kindness and sincerity sink into you, surrounding you the pleasantly overwhelming way his body does as he wraps around you. Holding your hips as he swallows your tongue, shifting himself to feel every dip and curve of your body.

As his lips find your neck, the laundry room comes back into view. A delicious thought swirls in your mind and the words burst from your mouth.

“Can I see?”

He nuzzles against your jaw, grinding his erection against your thigh. 

“See what?” He’s distracted by how good you smell, how soft your skin feels beneath his fingers.

“I want to see you with the cock ring. Show me, please?”

Arousal floods his mind, images of you naked beneath him while his balls throb with cum just for you. No words needed before he’s pushing you in front of him to his bedroom. He’s ready to show you just how devoted he is to you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, it feels like the first time with him all over again. Anticipation of the unknown, drowned in heavy lust. 

His eyes rake over you as he enters the room, lust darkening those soft blue eyes. You’re exactly how he wants you always - in his bed, eager for his touch. Right now, he’s yours.

Taking the spot between your legs, strong fingers stroking along jean-clad thighs, his broad frame bends toward you to rest his forehead against yours. That button nose knocking into yours. 

“There’s been no one else since the day you moved next door. I’m yours, only yours.”

The build up of emotions behind your eyes threatens to spill over as he presses his lips to yours. Cups the back of your head as he leans into you, applying the softest pressure. Pouring every ounce of his devotion into his kiss.

Your legs wrap around his slim hips, needing to feel his security and care. He’s the most helpful man to exist, and you know he’ll guide you through this dynamic. 

Kisses turn sweet to frantic to passionate as Robert holds your face. Your lips are chapped when he finally pulls away, strong chest rising and deflating. You know you mirror his disheveled aroused appearance. His hand reaches behind to his back pocket.

He holds the black cock ring between you, freshly washed, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight peeking through the curtains. “Are you sure about this?”

Your apprehensive eyes meet his, although a slight smile plays along your lips. “Play dirty with me. Please.”

Condensation beads on the lower rims of his glasses as he dips his face to kiss you, his skin flaming hot. The kiss is sinful yet curt, not wanting to lose himself before practicing restraint. You run your tongue along the seam of his lips, savoring his flavor. He hums against your mouth as your hands find his waist, heart picking up speed as your fingers find the button of his jeans. 

Robert clenches the cock ring in his fist, already struggling to hold his load as the softness of your skin wraps tightly around his hardening cock. 

His eyes are lidded, thin mouth already agape from the pleasure of your fist stroking firmly up and down his shaft. Can barely keep focus between the way you squeeze his deep pink tip and the spectacular view down your top, his mind running wild at the all the skin he needs to touch. He’s practically forgotten the reason for his view until you lick your lips sweetly and ask.

“Can I put it on?”

Fingers unfurl and present the silicone ring to you, warm from his clenched fist. You press the ring between your fingers, taking in the smooth design and thick circumference. Glide your thumb along the little button that makes it vibrate. 

He’s panting above you, already wrecked at the vision. The only two things he deems worthy of his cock, right in front of him. 

Bringing the ring up to your lips, he watches as you run your tongue along it, gathering your saliva to glisten along the silicone for a smoother glide. Your fingers effortlessly slipping along the edge before you touch it to the sensitive tip of his cock. 

His fingers curl around the nape on your neck, holding the hair there, grounding himself. Between your ministrations and the pressure of the ring slipping down his length, he’s dizzy with stimulation. His cock immediately swelling in response. Lip between his teeth to contain the gruff moans you’re desperate to hear.

Your eyes are focused on the firm grip the ring has on the length of him, sliding down until your thumb is brushing his heavy ballsack, pulsing with need. 

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to last.” He’s panting against your forehead, trying so hard to be patient, but wanting nothing more than to thrust into your fist and chase his orgasm. 

You tilt his chin to press a chaste kiss to his lips. A promise to take care of him, because you and you alone are responsible for his pleasure. Always.

Sliding back onto the soft coverlet, you raise your hips to remove your jeans. Skin growing warm at the wanton look of need in Robert’s eyes as you unbutton your top. His voice but a whine when you sit in front of him in nothing but the delicate chain around your neck. 

“So beautiful.”

It’s impossible to tell whose whimpers are more desperate as you run the shiny-slick swollen head of him against your core. Moaning as it catches on your entrance, ready to sink deep into those velvet depths. Voices becoming one as you impale yourself on the thick shaft that’s all yours.

He can’t believe anything could be better. This is Nirvana. Until you reach between to where your bodies meet and hit that tiny little button.

“Fuck!” He never swears, and yet that filthy word streaks through the room with a bite. Yelped loudly as he buries his face into your neck. The combination of vibrations and warm, tight pussy sending him into a spiral. Groaning out praises into your neck like it’s his last day alive.

You can’t help the grin on your face as you experience him come undone. How had you been denied the pleasure of watching him like this? The salt of his neck, the wayward curl stuck to his forehead? It’s a toss up if you’re getting off on being stuffed with his engorged cock or by watching the way his chest heaves for breath as he fights off his orgasm.

“Are you going to cum for me?” You’re drunk on power watching him like this, rutting his hips into you over and over for a pleasure that won’t come until you decide. His nod so desperate it goes right to your clit. His swollen cock stretching you beyond what you thought possible. The frisson of skin on skin, those tiny yet powerful vibrations, and his affection for you is overwhelming. 

The ring fully still in place, your orgasm wracks your body, convulsing over the sheets. Barely able to notice his soft lips brushing the arch of your breasts as he consumes your satisfaction. Drinking in the sounds of your moans as they mix with his wet thrusts. 

Your sleepy eyes are all he focuses on as he chases his orgasm, fighting past his usual routine of stopping here when he only has his hand. Right now he gets to have it all - the constricted blood flow, the vibration, and you. Perfect, wonderful you. His hands fist in the bedding, rooting himself, as sinks his hips deeper with precise strokes. 

He can do this. He will show you you’re the only one for him.

Body quivering, his face is bright red as he thrusts, exertion bringing the vein in his forehead out with a matching bead of sweat. Robert feels his body take on a new consciousness as you ask for his cum once more.

His grunts are filthy - animalistic and deep. The first stream of cum he’s ever experienced with the ring on filling your stretched pussy, claiming you as his. Head fuzzy, he takes a moment to pull himself from your soft embrace and jerk his engorged cock, shot after shot of cum pumping out across your body. A painting only he gets to witness.

His tank now empty, you feel the soft thump of his body fall beside yours. Hear him catch his breath in the quiet afternoon air.

Exhausted, his face knocks into yours - glasses already lost to the coverlet - as he comes to reality once again. Strong arms reaching to pull you to him. Lackadaisical kisses to your cheek before risking a glance down and laughing abashedly.

“T-there’s so much cum. It’s everywhere.” Another kiss. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

The carefree yet sheepish grin he gives you melts your heart. You kiss him back, not needing to look as you feel his seed dry on your skin in the golden hour light. He very truly marked you as his, just as he is yours. 

Smoothing your fingers through his hair, memorizing every little detail of his face - what a handsome face - you ease his embarrassment. “It’s not a big deal. We’ll just throw the sheets in the washer and enjoy dinner. It’s fine, really.” 

His washer currently filled with your delicates complicates things, but your big, sweet smile soothes his self-consciousness. He returns the grin back, holding you closer. 

That night is spent eating Robert’s lasagna and playing cards until every light on the street went out. It’s far too late when the sheets are finally clean and dried, and even later when they’re successfully on the bed. But it’s worth it to him when you crawl under the duvet and beckon him closer, needing one last kiss from your boyfriend before sleep.

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