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heegyukeluv · 29 days ago

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CHAPTER ONE: you&me

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader

synopsis: Each new cycle marks a new chapter in life’s story. You, once so sure of your choices, found yourself questioning everything when you met Heeseung, someone too perfect to be real. He adapted to you effortlessly, and it felt just as natural for him as it did for you. Now, you and Heeseung were starting a new chapter together, one that would unfold shared.

my's note: sub hee for my one and only babi!!! HOPE YOU LIKE IT LOVE!!!

warnings: university teacher y/n and university teacher heeseung, pet names (baby, babe, love…), yn is a menace ngl, SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, SUB HEE!!!, protected and unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (m), nipple play (m), handjob, blowjob, cowgirl/riding, overstimulation, edging, drooling a lil, fingering (f), bathroom sex, reader calls hee ‘good boy’, lowkey teacher kink but not really he just uses the word once and in a teasing way i swear… lmk if i missed something!

wc: 33k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire, @marigold-sunflowers, @ikeuverse, @tinycatharsis

No matter how consistent your routine had become, there was always a flutter of nerves accompanying you as you crossed the tall iron gates, the friendly greeting from the security guard sounding like a familiar melody to your ears.

It was nothing like the first time, of course. You could vividly recall the ache in your stomach from the sheer nervousness and the fear of making mistakes or embarrassing yourself. Your legs trembling, your eyes darting everywhere, and even your voice had betrayed you, faltering when you tried to interact with your superiors. But now, there was a core of pleasant anticipation – an excitement for the unknown.

After all, teaching might be routine, but every lesson offered a fresh opportunity to explore the day.

You had always embraced an open, flexible teaching style, striving to be the kind of professor who not only imparted knowledge but also genuinely listened to students and their unique perspectives. This approach wasn’t just a personal trait – it had significantly enhanced your professional reputation.

In fact, it had earned you a place on the director’s radar, leading to better positions in a surprisingly short amount of time.

In the academic hierarchy, older and more experienced educators typically had first pick of the subjects they would teach at the start of the year. Newer teachers were left with the “leftovers” – the so-called duller, broader courses that, in some ways, stifled creativity.

But you had made the best of it. You worked tirelessly, and in just two years, you achieved remarkable goals that reshaped how the director viewed you. Now, you held a slightly higher position with more freedom in choosing your courses. Of course, there were still teachers ahead of you who claimed the more prestigious subjects, the ones you could only dream of teaching someday.

It was the beginning of a new year, which meant an influx of fresh teachers. In your field – psychology – this was relatively rare. The college’s prestige meant they only hired truly promising names, which resulted in a very niche demand for positions. This, in turn, created a noticeable lack in areas like yours, where teaching needed to be particularly well-structured and thoughtfully delivered.

This semester, your schedule included Social Psychology, Personality Psychology, and Statistics.

Statistics was still a taboo subject in the field – many students avoided it like the plague, and you had been one of them as well, both as a teacher and as a learner. Yet, much to your dismay, the “dreaded course” had been assigned to you and you couldn’t do anything other than accept your fate.

And you did embrace it as a self challenge, to think beyond the usual in order to offer something engaging and valuable other than the basic 1+1 concepts that so often felt lacking.

As you made your way, you didn’t expect any new hires in your department at all, as no one had informed you otherwise. So your surprise was undeniable when you walked into the faculty lounge and immediately spotted an unfamiliar face – or rather, a back.

It appeared to be a man, his posture slightly hunched forward, his broad shoulders and apparent firm back hinted at his height, significantly taller than you.

He was dressed in the typical attire of a freshly hired professor: slacks, dress shoes, and a neatly tucked-in shirt beneath a blazer that, if you were honest, hugged his frame almost too perfectly.

He was also murmuring something under his breath, a sort of self-assurance mantra that sounded similar to: “You’ve got this. It’s fine. They’re just teenagers. Or young adults. It doesn't matter. You’re smart.”

With your curiosity picked, your steps led you to fully enter the room, the soft click of the door coinciding with your calm, yet friendly voice breaking the air.

“I used to say the exact same thing to myself.”

The man turned abruptly, now offering you a full view of his face as his hands froze mid-motion, still in the process of fastening his blazer.

Wide, startled eyes locked onto yours, resembling a deer caught in headlights moments away from disaster, like he was doing something wrong. Maybe he felt like when you’re doing exercises in your room and your parents step in, the embarrassment flowing through every inch of your skin.

His lips, glistening in a shade of red, hung open in shock while quick, uneven breaths escaped them, a clear sign that the surprise had been mutual, though his seemed far more intense.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” you murmured, a slightly shy smile gracing the corners of your lips as you blinked, softening your features.

Taking slow, deliberate steps, you closed the distance between you two, with the man now completely silent, but turned to face you entirely, his demeanor awkward and endearing in a way that tugged at something warm inside you. Something oddly.

“Y/N.” You extended your hand as politely as you could, ignoring the tingle on your fingertips as you waited for the ensuing touch. The man stared at your fingers adorned with beautiful rings for a brief moment before jolting and taking it in his with a careful grip, greeting back.

“Heeseung. Lee Heeseung.”

You couldn’t deny nor hide that his voice was somehow comforting, not too deep, not too high, just perfectly balanced to surprise you with how your heart picked up its pace at the sound.

His touch was different too; palm warm and slightly sweaty, likely from nerves, but you didn’t mind. If he was indeed a new hire, a little nervousness was to be expected. Not to mention the divergence of his steady and kind grasp.

The silence that followed as you released the handshake bordered on awkwardness, your eyes trying to focus on anything other than the man that now could be named as Heeseung. However, an unusual aura seemed to draw your attention back to him, like a silent hypnosis, magnetic, an irresistible force pulling you to trace the fragments of what was laid bare for you to drink in about his undeniable beauty.

And Heeseung took a moment to take in your appearance as well, shamelessly letting his gaze wander over your figure and consequently becoming unaware you did just the exact same thing.

You wore fitted black slacks that subtly accentuated your thighs and waist, paired with a loose blouse tucked haphazardly into your waistband on one side. A casual yet stylish look, adequate to your job, and sufficient to drive some guys – Heeseung, in specific – to teeter the edge of losing his breath.

One hand held your bag while the other toyed absentmindedly with the necklace around your neck, a gold watch wrapped around your wrist that stirred Heeseung’s acknowledgment about your liking for accessories.

You had your posture relaxed and seductive, even, as your piercing gaze drifted through Heeseung’s body. Attractive – undeniably so.

He looked like the kind of professor who would easily become a hit among the students – and maybe some other teachers – and you couldn’t help but wonder what and when rumors might start circulating about him.

Back in your day, you had been the subject of whispers yourself. At first it had intimidated you, not knowing how to take in the compliments and the murmurs around you, but you soon decided to switch it into confidence, growing more comfortable in your role with each passing day. It even helped you connect with your students in a way that felt natural and genuine, a give-and-take dynamic you had come to love.

“So… Heeseung,” you cleared your throat, breaking the mutual analysis with a sharp cut. The sound of your voice pulled his attention back to your face. You smiled at his flustered cheeks and innocent gaze. “You’re new here, I assume?”

“Yep. First day,” he replied with an obvious nervous sigh, nibbling his bottom lip before tilting his head with a curious expression. “Any memos?”

A soft hum was your initial response, paired with a thoughtful look as your eyes went towards a random spot to the side, most likely you were in deep thought to find the right answer. Heeseung mentally cursed himself for finding you cute with the subtle pout of your lips and the slight furrow of your brow that added to your charm.

At the same time, he didn’t judge himself too harshly. You were undeniably beautiful, and he was frankly surprised he was managing to have even this minimal conversation with you without much stutter.

“Don’t drink the coffee from earlier in the morning,” you finally concluded, nodding slightly to yourself. Heeseung narrowed his eyes to you before a smirk creeped on the corners of his mouth. “It’s awful. The one during the lunch break is much better.”

Then you then motioned in the direction of Heeseung’s chest with your chin, both your hands now firmly gripping your bag’s strap, because your fingers buzzed with a sudden need to be the one undoing his buttons.

“And maybe leave the top button of your shirt open, if you’re comfortable. If you’re too stiffly dressed, the students might see you as overly serious…” You paused abruptly, your eyes widening slightly, gesticulating amidst your awkward state. “Not that being serious is a bad thing! It’s just… you know. Teenagers. Appearances sometimes mean everything to them.”

Heeseung breathed out a soft laugh, his eyes curling into small crescents as he did. “Don’t worry, I get it. That was actually one of my concerns, to be honest.”

As he calmly spoke, his hands began to undo the buttons of his blazer, revealing the shirt beneath for your hungry gaze, as well as a small glimpse of his bare chest. For reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you found yourself momentarily distracted by the sight, an unwelcome heat rising to your cheeks because, yeah, you could tell by the face and part of the exposed neck that Heeseung had honeyed skin.

But damn. Was there a reason for him to be completely attractive? He probably had some terrible habit, or a major red flag, or was burdened with deep personal flaws, because a man that good-looking rarely had good character.

Snapping yourself out of it, you took a step back and forced a strained smile, more than ready to escape before your thoughts could spiral further, fearing your composure would crumble completely in front of Heeseung and ruin the first impression you made on him.

Not that you cared much about making a good impression, but he seemed to effortlessly bring out behaviors in you that were just a little beyond your control and definitely unusual from you.

“Well, enjoy your first day,” you said in a tone that hinted at goodbye, already tracing your path to the door. And when everything appeared to be falling into place, you casually let it slip, exuding a natural sense of sensuality. “I hope we’ll see more of each other around here.”

Unfortunately or not, Heeseung caught on right away. And to make matters worse, he mimicked your tone, a little more shy though.

“Thank you, Y/N. I hope so too.”

The following weeks at work went as normally as possible. Classes here and there, some students sharing personal topics with you because they felt comfortable, lunch breaks, and some free hours that always led you to the teachers’ office room to review your lesson plans and prepare for the upcoming ones, along with the daily reports you needed to write in short, concise paragraphs, just for bureaucratic purposes.

You had already filled out your syllabus for the semester, which was promptly reviewed and approved so you could start your journey in that academic year. But still, there was that unmistakable nervous feeling that seemed to follow you around.

Part of that sensation stemmed from personal anxiety, which you were able to slowly dissipate as you worked through your teaching plans, which is exactly what you were doing at that very moment.

The teachers’ room wasn’t usually filled with other professors because many preferred to occupy other spots on campus that offered just as much comfort, or even stay in their cars, claiming that they wouldn’t be disturbed in any way.

You had found yourself visiting the library and even an open area near trees and nature to catch up on your studies and lesson plans. But there, in that air-conditioned room, where coffee was free and easily accessible – and, by the afternoon, delicious – and a comfortable chair awaited, it seemed like the perfect place to try and get your head together.

There was something tangled inside you, something that didn’t seem to have a clear root, as if something clouded your ability to see what was causing you such distress. Everything seemed to revolve around the damn statistics class, which had become a growing source of stress in your planning.

Every time you thought about it, your head seemed to spin. You had taught it quite a few times, with the next class coming up in a few minutes and the sensation of lacking overwhelming you.

It almost felt pathetic, and it made you laugh without humor when you remembered your students asking how a psychologist like you could have moments of anxiety.

And then there was the part of the class where you would say that when you’re a psychologist, you don’t stop being human. Emotions, sensations, feelings – they all stay with you, even when you know relaxation techniques or how to listen to other people's problems.

Thinking about that calmed you a little. Reminding yourself that you’re human, that you feel and can feel the way your body decides to feel in certain situations. It’s natural to feel anxious about something beyond your control or something you’re uncertain about, and just admitting that is a step towards something that could bring relief.

Unfortunately, sometimes you can’t just ignore the situation, not when you’re a teacher who needs to take responsibility for the subjects you teach, since the future of your students passes through your hands every lesson and that alone carries a height of tons.

“Am I interrupting?”

Nothing had prepared you to hear someone’s voice weaving through your tormented thoughts, so your immediate response was to tense up and widen your eyes, your pulse increasing its beats significantly as your gaze lifted to meet the owner of your startle.

A breath escaped from your parted lips and formed a single name. “Heeseung?”

Your heartbeat sped up even more.

The shock was evident in every part of your body, from the way you had stiffened entirely, to the clear flush on your face. Noticing your state, Heeseung chuckled softly.

“That’s me.”

Without a single word, your gaze instinctively swept across every detail of him, and you had to restrain yourself from succumbing to the impulse of simply drooling as you did so.

Heeseung was dressed casually, that little heads-up given him earlier the week lingered on the back of his mind long enough for him to abandon the idea of being too formal and dress more laid-back, without losing the air of vanity and elegance he enjoyed to carry.

Today, he wore a simple white dress shirt and black pants, ones that hugged his long legs with perfection. Gold-rimmed glasses rested on his nose in a ridiculously attractive way, framing his face with care, and his ears were adorned with equal gold earrings, gleaming like drops of sunlight, perfectly attuned to his skin as if they had been forged by the same fire, crafted to exist as one.

There was no reason for that man to be walking around so excessively hot like that.

Noticing your silence and spaced-out look, as if you were somewhere else, Heeseung got worried.

“Is everything okay?” The question was softly thrown at you, while he settled into the chair in front of the desk where you were hunched over various papers.

You cleared your throat and straightened up, blinking in embarrassment while fixing the papers. You – and your environment – were a mess, and Heeseung wasn’t helping much so far.

“Uh… Kinda,” you forced a smile, struggling to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

Damn, how easy it was to be attracted to attractive good-looking men – a serious pleonasm. “I’m a little…” Your head tilted quickly to the side as you sucked on your teeth, hissing. “Overwhelmed?”

You had bumped into him in the hallways since exchanging names in the staff room, but always in a rush, stuck in your respective hectic routines, never having time to chat.

There was this weight of curiosity about how he was adjusting, how he was handling the burden of being a newly hired professor at a university, if he had already shaped his persona for the academic context, among other things, that hovered over you.

Still, one thing was undeniable: he looked great, as always. And that made everything even more chaotic for you.

“With what?”

The way Heeseung asked carried a genuine air of interest, rather than superficial curiosity, the kind of just being polite or whatever. That alone was enough to make you feel comfortable opening your mouth and spilling all your anguish. He might have been newly hired, but he exuded an air of care that instantly put you at ease.

Out of habit, you bit down on your lower lip. It was a clear tell about a specific kind of nervousness that settled in your stomach whenever you were up to something, ready to dive into some mess, probably scheming. At least, that was what your friends always said about you in moments like these.

Heeseung noticed the movement immediately, his gaze fixed on the way your teeth pressed into what looked like an impossibly soft lip, which only served as an invite to his eyes to linger longer, refusing to let go. He couldn’t quite tell if it was the subtle gloss coating and glistening under the light, or its natural color, but some detail about it had him completely mesmerized with such a particular and random trait.

Heeseung considered himself someone ridiculously and pathetically drawn to specific details in people when he found himself captivated by them. There were plenty of other aspects of your figure that caught his attention – like the elegant curve of your collarbone or the way you always seemed to wear at least one accessory perfectly aligned with your outfit.

But in that very moment, your lips took center stage, basking in the spotlight of his focus.

Maybe it was because he had been wondering about their taste over the past few days, ever since your first encounter. Whether the softness they seemed to exude was as velvety as it looked. Whether they would fit seamlessly against his. Whether they would deliver that fleeting, cloud-like sensation they wordlessly promised to anyone paying close enough attention.

For that reason, he caught the exact way the pressure of your teeth against your lip eased and unraveled – a simple, subtle movement that somehow felt magnified under the lens of his gaze. And the reason the lip biting was undone was because it had been dissolved when you said something he completely missed.

“Sorry,” Heeseung shook his head, as though it helped his mind to snap back into reality. “Come again?”

You giggled at his adorableness, casually placing your hands on the table and fiddling with your ring.

“I asked if you know anything about statistics.”

Only then did Heeseung lift his gaze, praying that the warmth spreading through his cheeks and to the point of his ears was merely a sensation, not an obvious giveaway that he was embarrassed, exposing its redness.

“Uh, it's... not really my thing,” he scratched the back of his neck, desperately avoiding your piercing stare.

How did something so simple manage to throw him off so completely? Maybe it was because you subtly leaned forward, closing the distance between your faces while maintaining an almost too confident air.

Everything about you screamed confidence. You carried yourself with ease. Your steps were purposeful, yet casual. You smiled effortlessly, but never lost your composure; you knew how to assert yourself without being stern. He had heard whispers about how amazing your classes were and how you effortlessly mastered every subject you taught. And on top of that, you were, quite simply, breathtaking.

“But do you think you could help me?”

Heeseung nearly choked on his saliva, finding it hard to swallow the nervous lump that grew down his throat. You briefly took notice of how prominent his Adam’s apple bobbed, and for some reason you wondered if he was sensible in that area.

“Well, I guess... I could try. Can’t make any promises, though…” He answered with his voice sounding tentative and sincere. His eyes shifted to the papers scattered in front of you, then back to your face, that now held a hint of a cute smile.

A cute smile that hid something darker beneath it.

You cocked your head to the side ever so slightly, allowing your eyes to quietly travel across Heeseung’s features. He hadn’t been concealing his shameless gaze on your lips earlier, which triggered your natural instinct to take control – a role you relished.

The way Heeseung faltered in front of you was curious. The clear struggle to collect himself, to answer without his voice betraying him, trying desperately to maintain eye contact and failing adorably, only made you want to dive deeper into that kind of conversation, to dig out each reaction he managed to express before your presence.

What had started as a simple request for help between colleagues now bordered on something far more seductive.

“Don’t worry about it, Heeseung,” you made sure to let his name sound even more velvety, boldly placing your hand on top of his with the silent excuse of showing the papers in front of you. “I just need a little guidance. I feel like part of what I’ve planned for my lessons isn’t good enough.”

Ah, yes. Lessons. That was what you were talking about. For a brief moment, Heeseung wondered how the air between you had shifted so easily, from the awkward tension to something electric and tantalizing, stirring his heart to skip several beats in such a short amount of time. And it wasn’t the first time.

Even in your first meeting, the exchange of glances had been too intense for a mere greeting between coworkers.

“Hm,” Heeseung nodded, swallowing hard again because he hadn't expected the subtle touch of your soft hand on his. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional, but it definitely affected his body. “Let me see.”

When he took the papers into his grasp, he solely visualized smudges, scattered letters, and nothing that made sense to his poor dizzy head. Not because of the content – although he struggled with statistics –, but purely because of the weight of your gaze resting over him, analyzing every tiny reaction with a seriousness and intensity that felt too much to bear without wavering.

Heeseung felt like he was going to explode at any moment and couldn’t help the urge to escape the invisible strings that captured his entire being, each of them being held by your pretty fingers.

From the first time you met it should have been just another common interaction with a colleague – like it had been with Lia, Sunghoon, or Yunjin. A polite greeting, a quick “good luck,” followed by a kind smile and that was it. Except, with you, it wasn’t.

He remembers how the sentences you two traded didn’t leave gaps to develop things beyond the standard colleague relationship, even though something definitely was left open, unresolved.

A flavor similar to craving settled at the back of Heeseung’s throat, like you were crafted specifically to intrigue him, sparking a quiet and relentless desire to keep you close, even if only to watch you from a certain distance.

He often caught himself looking for you throughout the day, whether in the cafeteria during his lunch break, where his curious gaze wandered over the other professors in the hope of spotting your face among them, or between classes, when he would seize a moment to head to the restroom and secretly wish to run into you along the way.

And he had, in fact, seen you a few times since that first day, mostly in the corridors – which, admittedly, were far from ideal. It was rare to find you in the faculty lounge, and even when he did, you always seemed to be in a rush – though, to be fair, so was he most of the time.

None of these fleeting encounters allowed for a proper conversation, the kind where he could ask you something personal and hear your assured tone as you answered, only fueling his curiosity further.

Heeseung wanted to know you. To uncover details that weren’t obvious to everyone else. Sure, many had seen the way you acted as a professor, but did they know your favorite movie? Maybe they did – but did they know why?

He wanted to dive deep, to understand the layers of you. And he didn’t blame himself for being interested in a colleague. The only thing that might hold him back was the possibility of rejection if he dared to push too far – but even then, he figured it would be worth the risk.

The real challenge was finding the courage to even try.

Seeing you there now felt like a stroke of luck. He had dismissed his students early, and it just so happened that your free period coincided with his. What caught him off guard, though, was simply you. Captivating, magnetic, brimming with confidence.

There was no certain way to pinpoint whatever generated his enthrallment towards you; maybe the manner you behaved around the campus, exuding your unmistakable graceful confidence marked something profound, and so far unnamable, in him. Or perhaps how your hands carried your bag nonchalantly, wrists always packed with accessories that jiggled softly, creating a delicate melody as you walked.

Everything about you had an irresistible air, an atmosphere nearly too blinding, and perhaps that was the hardest part to loose his nerves around you.

“Heeseung?”

Your voice calling his name was more than enough to bring his existence back to the harsh reality where he had to face you – and your mesmerizing form –, with expectant eyes that also showed somewhat a darker emotion.

Heeseung didn’t expect his voice to sound so quiet and distant when he answered, let alone his eyes to glance up expressing the way he got lost, but he was far too gone to properly understand the scenario.

“Yes?”

On the other hand, you were really enjoying the unfolding scene, where Heeseung clearly fought his demons in order to keep his composure. Toying with the devil, you pushed further.

“Is it good?”

“What?” He was too adorable for your heart to handle, blinking his big bambi eyes in confusion before the whole skin of his face turned into a faint crimson tone. “Oh, yeah. Right,” he finally cleared his throat, moving his gaze back to the paper. “I… Mmh, I’d change this part,” he pointed to a specific paragraph where you also had highlighted it; automatically, you moved a bit closer so you could see it with him. “To something more dynamic, like… Using examples?”

You leaned in just enough to make him glance at you nervously, your voice dipping into an unmatched softness. “Examples, huh? What would you suggest?”

Heeseung shrugged and averted his gaze, his brow furrowing deeply as he struggled to come up with an appropriate example. Yes, he had read your lesson summary amidst the chaos in his head. And yes, he wanted to help you. But you – simply you – with your sweet citrusy scent, your effortless, self-assured demeanor, and the way your body leaned closer and closer to his, were utterly suffocating his straight thoughts.

You noticed how he pouted slightly as he focused, which left you experiencing a weird fondness, melting in your chest.

A few seconds later, his gaze flickered between you and the paper. “Uh, maybe you could tie it to something relatable, like…” He paused, hoping his racing mind wouldn’t betray him too much. “You could compare it to... say, a study on preferences. Like how many people prefer... uh, dating versus not dating,” but of course, his brain had to go there. “I mean– You could show the numbers and... interpret what they reveal, use graphs and tools to illustrate how your students might apply statistics in psychology, for research and similar– Damn, sorry. I don’t need to explain that part to you. Definitely not.”

His rambling was both amusing and endearing, and you had to summon strength from the depths of your soul not to reach out and pinch his adorably pouty cheeks. Fuck it, why did he have to be like this?

“I got it, yeah,” you cut in with a low laugh. “That I can do. Thanks, Heeseung.”

His name rolled off your tongue like honey, leaving him flustered yet oddly satisfied at the sound of your appreciation. Heeseung started to wonder if you might need more help, just to hear you say his name again along with a few praises.

You softly took the paper back and jotted down a note where he had demarcated, making sure to remember and use the tip later. A quick glance at your watch reminded you that your time was running out – you needed to get to the dreaded class you were about to teach.

“Well,” gathering all your materials and placing some inside your bag, you began. You liked to carry your lesson book in your arms, it gave you a particular sense of authority and acknowledgment that only you understood. “Unfortunately, I need to go.”

As you stood up, Heeseung followed your movements with careful attention, his own body wanting to get on his feet as well, much to copy you and maybe walk you to your class. He held himself back, because that would be too pathetic. And he had already exhausted his quota of embarrassment in front of you.

You looked at him, continuing, “But before I leave, I have one more question for you.”

“About what?” He asked, his voice soft but tinged with confusion and curiosity.

“Do you fall into the group that prefers dating or not dating?”

You giggled at his immediate response; his wide eyes, his hands fumbling nervously, one of them darting to adjust his glasses as your unwavering gaze lingered on him.

“Um,” he shifted in his seat, not daring to look at you. “Dating.”

That had been a calculated move on your part, a way to test the waters and find out if he had any romantic ties. Surely, a man as handsome, intelligent, and kind as Heeseung had someone. But the way he answered, paired with his demeanor around you during your few encounters, piqued your curiosity and strengthened your belief that he wasn’t taken.

“Just to clarify, Heeseung,” you said, placing your book back on the table and flattening your hands on its surface. Leaning slightly forward, you closed the space between your faces. Heeseung swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on your unwavering ones. “Are you single?”

“Yes,” he answered shyly yet promptly, his cheeks now burning with heat. “I am single.”

“Good,” you said with a satisfied nod, not even attempting to hide your delight in his response. Straightening up, you grabbed your things and prepared to leave, a smile dancing on your lips. “Very good, Heeseung.”

You had a lecture to lead in a few minutes and hoped to grab a quick bite while reviewing your notes – a personal mantra that steadied your nerves and boosted your confidence, a ritual that you tried not to break. However, fate had different plans for you that day, starting with the unusual buzz of conversation seeping through the door of the faculty lounge, indicating more people had the same plan of occupying the room.

What caught you off guard, though, as your hand settled on the knob and you gently pushed the door open, careful not to disrupt the animated chatter, was spotting Heeseung's bright presence among the group of professors.

The instant hush that followed sent three pairs of eyes towards you, yet yours locked singularly on his. Hesseung’s expression softened automatically, shifting from the lingering remnants of a joyful laughter to something tender and inviting.

Even by the distance, you could nearly feel his irises glimmering with warmth, a genuine glow of happiness lighting up his features little by little. Internally, his heart picked up its pace, the contrast of nervous energy coursing through his body was almost palpable, his palms already growing clammy.

“Please, carry on as if I’m not here,” you quipped with a cheeky smile, not bothering to properly greet each individual. “Pretend I’m a ghost. I’m just here to grab a book,” you added, weaving a subtle lie into your words as you made your way towards the bookshelf in the corner.

A few chuckles rippled through the room before the conversation resumed, now with only two participants since one of them felt the urge to follow you every move. You wondered why you had gone through the effort of lying and how you would deal with your lunch plans elsewhere, considering none of the current people aligned with your usual solitary break.

Well… One of them could maybe help you.

“Hey,” a quiet voice cut through, pulling you from your thoughts as you lingered too long by the shelf. Your head snapped to the side, finding Heeseung standing there with an easy smile, his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark grey slacks.

“Hey,” you replied, instinctively shifting to face him fully.

You couldn’t help but let your gaze wander, now practically a habit during these fleeting encounters. Today, Heeseung in a turtleneck was a sight you hadn’t been prepared for. The sleek black fabric paired with a gray blazer and silver accents from his accessories left you more breathless than you cared to admit. Lethal for your heart. Effortlessly, attractively hot.

“Wanna grab some lunch together?” He asked with an air of casualness, which diverged entirely from the usual demeanor he displayed around you.

Your eyes sparkled with amusement, the corner of your lips curving as a shadow of a mischievous smile appeared before his boldness. Accepting the invitation veered slightly off your schedule, but the idea of speaking with him alone – and the fact that he had taken the initiative – was far too tempting to pass up.

Biting your lower lip in a futile attempt to stifle your smile, you replied as nonchalant as you could, “Sure.”

“Great!” His voice held a trace of enthusiasm that left you feeling inexplicably giddy.

You stifled a giggle when he stepped aside, motioning for you to lead the way, and then quickly rushed ahead to hold the door open for you.

“We can head to that convenience store just down the street,” Heeseung suggested with his charmingly laid-back tone as he helped you through the way, making sure you wouldn’t bump into anyone.

It somehow felt like he practiced this entire interaction quite a few times beforehand, a hint of artificiality appearing amidst the palpable signs of sincerity; that idea matched perfectly with the persona he had shown you so far.

“It’s near, so it won’t mess with your schedule,” at that remark, your attention sharpened, your ears perking up eagerly, waiting for what he would say next. “I know you’ve got a lecture in about thirty minutes, so–”

“You know my schedule?” You cut him off immediately, letting your curiosity overtake as you ignored whatever he was saying previously because that one new information stirred a few strong beats in your chest.

Not to mention how your delight was more than evident in the way your smile brightened, your eyes instantly searching for Heeseung’s shy ones.

“I–I mean– Yeah…” tinged with hesitation and with his confidence momentarily faltering – as well as his steps –, Heeseung answered, adorably flickering his gaze to you, to the floor and then to the direction you both were walking.

However, before he could even try to start to explain himself further, you leaned in, your tone dipping slightly to reassure and tease him at once, your shoulder nudging his arm as you spoke. “You’re cute, Heeseung.”

Not much to your surprise, Heeseung froze in place after hearing your compliment, as though your words had short-circuited his brain, frying his ability to create a proper reaction other than abruptly stop walking.

You had halted your steps a bit forward so you had to turn your body to look at him, and immediately his bambi-eyes scanned you in search for some indication you were joking or pranking his poor heart. The way he had arched his eyebrows together added a charm of innocence that had your heart faltering several beats, not to mention the red flush adorning his cheeks adorably.

After quickly reading Heeseung’s dumbfounded face, you giggled and shook your head tenderly, your eyes oozing with amusement.

“I meant it,” and to add a light touch of genuineness, you held your smile a bit longer.

Actually, being around Heeseung had this impact on you; a sudden urge to keep smiling, an unexpected and inexplicable heat spreading through your chest, soothing you in a comforting embrace. It was strangely good, as well as scary as shit.

Amidst his inner war, torn between choosing to run away and accepting your praise, Heeseung cleared his throat, making a fist with his hand and covering his lips as he did so before picking up the pace of his steps again. You started to follow, ignoring the students that clearly threw suspicious, speculative glances at you both. Heeseung seemed to mirror your decision too.

“Well. Uh. T–Thank you,” the stammer made his demeanor even charming and you couldn’t help another giggle that escaped you. He took a little glance at you shyly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a sheepish smile that betrayed how affected he was.

Heeseung was really battling to maintain his composure, because hearing that sound two times in a row was notably increasing his pulse, and attached to the fact that you called him cute– God. He could feel his face flaming hot once again.

By your peripheral vision, you caught how he was struggling to suppress a bigger smile, his cheeks puffing slightly as a result of his attempts. If he kept acting that way around you, there was an absurdly high chance you would throw caution to the wind and just ask to kiss him.

Wait. Where did that thought come from?

You had considered Heeseung as a potential romantic interest before – after all, he was handsome, intelligent, kind, and seemed to have an equally beautiful personality. But nothing as raw and carnal as the genuine desire to have him in such a way had crossed your mind until now.

The daylight hit your faces as you both stepped outside the building, but even that wasn’t enough to pull you out of the increasingly sinful thoughts flooding your mind. Sure, you had noticed in previous interactions how Heeseung’s gaze lingered just a little too long on your lips while you spoke. And it was definitely not the kind of attention stemming from “lip reading to understand better.” It was so clear in his eyes, an unspoken want hidden behind those charming chocolate orbs, leaving you wondering if you could be the one to make them melt sweetly for you.

Damn. More sinful thoughts.

Luckily, Heeseung interrupted the spiral going in your head when he pointed ahead to the spot he had mentioned earlier. “It’s right there,” he said, his voice light and soft. “We won’t take too long, okay?”

And then, he gave you the most beautiful smile your eyes had ever captured.

You were so screwed.

There was no other way to put it: you were starting to enjoy having Heeseung around a little too much. The reactions, the smiles, the chivalry, it was strongly getting to you. He had just held the door open for you, walked on the outer edge of the sidewalk, and pulled out your chair while offering to grab whatever you wanted to eat.

Sure, part of it was the bare minimum, but there was no denying that receiving all this without asking, without having any deeper connection beyond being colleagues, left you flustered. It felt special, as though Heeseung’s gentlemanly gestures were more deliberate and sincere simply because they were directed at you.

“Heeseung, you’re not paying for my–”

“Shh,” he gently hushed you, shaking his head as he looked down at you. He was still standing after insisting you sit while he took care of your order. “You can’t wear yourself out, Y/N. Remember: your lecture’s in…” He glanced at his watch. “Twenty-four minutes.”

You gave him a deadpan look and rolled your eyes, silently but surely mastering the art of hiding how affected you actually felt. Your heart had suddenly learned a new frantic rhythm, one that uncontrollably drummed against your rib cages as if it wanted to break free, ringing in your ears.

“Fine, fine,” you finally gave up, your voice showing your surrender. “But at least let me–”

“No,” Heeseung refused again, this time gently pushing your hands down, which were holding the credit card you had just fished out of your bag. “Tell me what you want.”

After a sigh, you made your request – the simplest thing you could think of, since you were hungry, but the nervousness about your upcoming lecture left you slightly nauseous.

It was a session you had given before, but it always managed to trigger some anxiety. The lecture was open to the entire department, not just a specific class, as part of the mandatory hours – for either you and the students – where you would teach for an hour and a half on a selected topic.

While Heeseung prepared both bowls of ramen and fetched the drinks, you took the brief moment alone to review your notes on your phone. The book you had grabbed earlier as a prop for your blatant lie in the faculty lounge was now abandoned on the extra chair at your table.

Your focused expression was unmistakable, your eyes scanning the chaotic notes that only you could make sense of, notes that would somehow translate into coherent, eloquent words once you started speaking, shining in your element.

From a distance, Heeseung paused mid-way to take you in as well to inhale deeply, his shoulders visibly relaxing from the palpable tension that always seemed to grip him whenever you were near, but his hand still held a remnant of the nervous sweat.

Inviting you to lunch had been planned in advance in his head, yet it didn’t stop his heart from missing beats when it actually happened, especially after you accepted, making him wonder if having a heart attack was anything like that feeling.

Beyond that, your cheeky words wrapped in confident compliments occupied a special place in the atmosphere surrounding you two, fanning the flames of unease that already simmered within him.

He had spent days counting the chances he might have to carve out time in his own schedule to ask you out, carefully calculating a way to avoid inconveniencing either of you. The courage to invite you outside of work hours wasn’t fully there yet.

He didn’t even have your number!

Heeseung decided to start slowly, taking baby steps. Nonetheless, the blatant flirtation from the other day still echoed in his mind, sending him spiraling into endless thoughts – or perhaps towards the obvious conclusion.

Did you want to get to know him better? What were your intentions? After a candid conversation with Sunghoon, who confirmed that flirting wasn’t your typical behavior with coworkers, Heeseung couldn’t shake the notion that something lingered in the air whenever you two interacted. It was an unspoken tension, like a cloud of silent words revealing something deeper, hidden just beneath the surface.

As usual, you looked stunning, completely immersed in your work while pouring every ounce of effort into being an excellent teacher. Heeseung had come to admire this about you.

He silently hoped you wanted him the way he had started wanting you – something more than friendship, something closer. You were kind and confident, dedicated and beautiful. Falling for you would be effortless.

If luck was on his side, this lunch would mark the first step towards the connection he longed to build with you.

As he approached, he couldn’t help but notice the faint unease clouding your otherwise captivating expression. It didn’t detract from your beauty, instead stirred a quiet desire within him to ease your worries.

“Relax,” he murmured softly, careful not to startle you, as he placed the steaming bowls of ramen and drinks on the table. You glanced up, your posture loosening as you leaned back in your chair. “You’ll do great.”

And there it was again, that effortlessly charming smile.

Heeseung took his seat across from you, leaning forward to start sipping his ramen since he was very hungry himself. His eyes crinkled slightly as they met yours, radiating warmth and tenderness, unmatching your keen gaze that followed the movement of his lips curving into a pout as he ate.

The problem was that, this time, you couldn’t hold your tongue about his beautiful grin.

“You have a really nice smile, Heeseung.”

And the reaction was instant. He choked, coughing into his hand as you giggled mischievously, quickly pushing his drink closer so he could take a sip and regain his dignity. Heeseung’s face turned as red as a tomato, increasing the adoration in your eyes as you watched the way he struggled; something about giving compliments simply for the sake of breaking his composure became one of your favorite games to play. Besides, you really meant each of them.

You could go for hours about the traces of Heeseung’s features, analyzing it like a delicate and dreamlike painting, the ones that felt surreal, nearly far to human reach.

For a short amount of seconds, Heeseung forgot he was speaking to the person who was climbing the romantic-interest charts with immense potential, the one responsible for the erratic beats of his heart and the thoughts he preferred not to name just yet, and not some random friend of his.

The curse slipped from his sauce-stained lips in a soft murmur. “Damn it,” he quickly wiped the area with a napkin, recovering from his small choke before practically whining the next words. “You’ve gotta stop doing that.”

You hadn't expected that behavior at all, but it was definitely a pleasant surprise. The wide-eyed look he gave you immediately, as if the realization hit him that he had acted more like a child than a man in front of you, only made your chest warm with affection. Ironically, Heeseung’s cheeks also flushed, heating in pure embarrassment.

He was lowkey thankful for the outfit choice, the turtleneck covering the flush of redness creeping up his neck towards his face and ears.

You shifted in your seat, finally ready to dig into your food as the aroma made your stomach rumble.

“Sorry,” you took a bite of your ramen, offering a lopsided smile, not the least bit apologetic for making him lose his composure in front of you. “I can’t help it.”

Realizing that your gaze hadn’t changed towards him, and in fact, you seemed even more intrigued by what he could offer, Heeseung decided to be as genuine as possible, expressing his true essence, one that teetered on the edge of something almost reverential.

It wasn’t as if he had other options in front of your mesmerizing presence, because even a simple “hello” from you, with your velvety voice as the backdrop, was enough to destabilize his body, causing his mind to short-circuit. Then, he became a jumble of disconnected words and behaviors that perfectly reflected his inner turmoil.

“You should at least try,” Heeseung murmured again, an underlying tone of faux sadness coloring his words. He avoided looking at you for too long; otherwise, it felt like the air would vanish from his lungs. “You know, so I can pretend to be really cool around you, and then you’ll fall for me.”

Heeseung wasn’t sure where the courage to throw out such a bold line came from, but he didn’t complain at first. However, the laugh that escaped you made him question whether it was the right move, hesitating at your reaction. But then your smile remained, subtle and affectionate, your eyes dripping with amusement until you spoke, in the same low, subtly husky, sensual tone that reflected part of your personality.

“It’s adorable to watch you all flustered, Heeseung,” you replied fearlessly, reading the script he once showed you without explaining, your confidence evident in every syllable as you chewed your food, maintaining eye contact without breaking. “It’s almost addictive.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, but the cheeky smile that threatened to escape betrayed his attempt to appear annoyed. He took a sip of his drink and looked at you seriously, though there was such obvious faking behind his gaze that you had to stifle a laugh, especially since he added a small pout after speaking.

Seriously, what an adorable man.

“I don’t think it’s funny at all.”

The warm atmosphere between you both created an interesting, comfortable dynamic that made you think about exploring different paths with him, maybe even inviting him to eat outside work hours. Despite the pleasant conversation, there was always the weight of your duties as teachers. The thought made you recall your next task with a quick inner jolt.

“Wow,” you looked at the time on your phone, your expression twisting into a mix of dread and nervousness before looking back at Heeseung, who was watching you with curiosity. “I need to go.”

It was strangely nice to see his face fall into something bordering on sadness, even though it fueled an impulse to drop all responsibilities and stay with him for the rest of the day, chatting away and definitely coaxing more shy reactions out of him.

“Sorry,” you said, this time meaning it. Gently, you reached for Heeseung’s hand resting on the table, covering it with yours. “I promise we can hang out more. Give me your number.”

Everything happened so quickly. The sudden touch, the promise of a future meet, the request for his number. Heeseung needed a few seconds to process the phone extended in his direction.

“Uh, yeah. Of course,” he said, reluctantly pulling his hand away to carefully write down his name and number in your phone before handing it back to you.

You found it amusing that he saved himself as “Lee Heeseung (college),” because you initially associated it with a college friend rather than a work one, which gave a youthful, almost nostalgic air, as though you two were young lovers rather than two mature adults about to venture down a different path beyond a mere friendship.

“Thanks, Heeseung,” you said as you stood up, the man following your movements for some reason he couldn’t pinpoint. He still had a few minutes before he had to head back. “For the food, the conversation, and for helping me relax.”

“Y-Yeah,” he mentally cursed himself for stuttering. “Anytime, Y/N.”

You gave him a small yet sincere smile before pausing almost completely, clutching your hands around your bag’s strap. Heeseung was standing there, eyes wide and round, watching you intently, his expression sweet as honey and his body waiting for... something.

There was no way to stop your own limbs from moving when you leaned forward lightly, enveloping Heeseung in a warm hug. “Thank you so much, Hee.”

And Heeseung could only hope you didn’t hear or feel the rapid beats of his heart when he held you back.

But you did.

Heeseung definitely wore a bolder persona through text. You believed his hands were still trembling as he sent the message, fingers glazing over the screen, searching for the best way to express what his flustered mind was trying to articulate, because countless times he seemed to delete and rewrite, hesitating before hitting send.

Despite that, it was so intriguing and sensual the way he let himself get carried away in the messages; from sweet good mornings followed by “can’t wait to see you today,” to “your outfit was stunning. I held myself back from hugging you a little longer,” implying he was slowly, yet surely growing hungrier from your touches. They were subtle phrases, perhaps innocent, but filled with an unspoken, looming desire.

At this point, it was undeniable that all you longed for was to kiss him, since the hugs that had become your usual greeting no longer satisfied the yearning to have him in direct contact with your skin. You wanted more. Much more.

“You’re suffocating me,” Heeseung mumbled against your chest, but made no effort to pull away from the position.

Yes. You were in quite a... compromising position.

You found him in the teachers' lounge, sitting at one of the chairs with his elbows propped on the smooth surface of the desk while reviewing some assignments, facial features sharpened due to the concentrated gaze and furrowed brows, although the faint pout gracing his lips softened the whole facade.

Sunghoon had just left, greeting you with a sly smile and a wink, almost murmuring a “good luck, I’ll leave you two alone” in the most teasing way.

And it was in that very moment, when your sneaky presence entered the room, that your little plan began. Truth be told, there was no plan, just a spontaneous thought that hugging Heeseung while he was seated and you standing might be a nice touch – albeit a touch that was a bit too sultry for the work environment but would certainly reveal the mystery behind some of your insecurities and second thoughts.

Did Heeseung flirt for his own pleasure, or was he too afraid to make a move? Because you honestly didn’t know how much longer you could wait.

“Sorry, my dear,” the endearment slipped out almost automatically, now as routine as the hugs, because to your delight, Heeseung always became embarrassed and cutely tried to avoid you when you called him that.

But who could he blame? Your honeyed voice saying the word always felt like a sweet, addictive shot to his chest.

You laughed when he groaned, pressing his face against the fabric of your blouse, pulling away ever so slightly enough for your hand to rest on his shoulder, his hand finding its way to your waist, looking up to make eye contact with you.

He wore gold-framed glasses that perfectly balanced his skin. Over the course of your conversations, a few subtle details had been revealed, like the fact that he was a little nearsighted but only wore glasses when he was too lazy to put in his contacts. And they were now slightly misplaced, giving him a ridiculously attractive air.

On top of that, he had chosen to wear suspenders that day, which only added to the innocent-boy look that made your heart tremble in a mild despair. It made you ache to ruin Heeseung in ways that were beyond comprehension, leaving him completely undone under your hands.

And that created a bittersweet feeling within you, because Heeseung was somehow sweet and delicate, and all you could think of in moments like this was seeing him squirming in your bed.

Like. What the hell.

Vanishing the sinful stream of thoughts crossing your mind by subtly shaking it off, you smiled with a falsely angelic demeanor. A pang in your heart reminded you that those inappropriate ideas needed to disappear, because until Heeseung gave you the green light, you couldn’t take any bold actions. You had to keep your not-so-innocent instincts under control.

Your fingers lightly scratched at his scalp, making his pretty eyes flutter briefly and a soft sigh escape his lips, tinted with a pale shade of pink. Moments like this – when a sudden intimacy bloomed between the two of you – always brought with them an undeniable need to define what you were becoming or at least bring it to the table. Were you both on the same page?

“Ready to go?”

“Gimme just ten more minutes. I need to finish this,” Heeseung replied warmly, his gaze flickering towards the scattered papers on the desk.

His voice never rose around you, always soft and gentle, like you were something rare and delicate that deserved only the utmost care, you came to notice after a few interactions.

Following his line of sight, you let out a dramatic sigh, recognizing the template on the papers and sympathizing with his predicament.

“My deepest condolences,” you joked, patting his back lightly before stepping away to give him the space he needed to finish his work.

Heeseung breathed out a soft laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. “Yeah, thanks.”

Taking the spare chair across the table, you rummaged through your bag for your phone to answer some emails and clear up a few pending tasks, working in silence to avoid disturbing him.

It was a Friday, and your plans involved dinner – a date you had invited him to, scheduled after the extended workday that surprisingly got dragged into the evening. It wasn’t a usual routine, but every so often, deadlines accumulated and students seemed to conspire to submit all their assignments at once, unnecessarily stressing the professors.

You had received your fair share of submissions earlier in the day, deciding to tackle them on Sunday. Tonight, your nerves were too tangled with excitement and anticipation about spending the entire evening with Heeseung.

Your so-called “dates” had so far been restricted to small windows of free time, with your schedules swallowing the possibility of meeting outside work. Lunchtime together had become almost expected – sometimes, a quick sandwich devoured in the span of ten minutes between breaks with Heeseung was enough to leave you happy for an entire day.

Still, whispers floated through the hallways, pointing at how students had started to pay close attention to your interactions. The lingering touches on arms, shy smiles, and starry eyes hadn't gone unnoticed. One student even mentioned Heeseung’s name during your class under the guise of linking it to something he taught, only to admit they were curious about your reaction.

And it had been priceless.

At any given time, Heeseung would be the source of your expression brightening instantly, your posture straightened as if on command, and your hand reflexively fixing any rogue strand of hair.

However, there was no reason for you to bask into that type of spotlight. Even though you carried yourself with confidence and shared openly about clinical and professional experiences with your students, believing practical examples enriched the theory, there were limits. And that line was drawn sharply when it came to your personal and romantic life.

You had particular tastes, ones not every man could embrace or accept at all. This was why you approached Heeseung with such caution – biting around the edges not to burn your tongue, to avoid ruining everything.

But something within you screamed, loud and clear, that he might be the one. Or, at the very least, someone willing to occupy a space where both of you could thrive.

“Y/N?” His soft voice broke through your spiral of thoughts with almost painful gentleness. Heeseung was always so soft, so sweet. Ugh.

“Yes?” You lifted your gaze, confused, only to find him smiling faintly.

“You were zoning out,” he pointed out, and only then did you notice the desk had been cleared, his work neatly organized. “Something on your mind?”

Yes. You.

“No,” you quickly shook your head, preparing to stand, but Heeseung’s hand stopped you, his warm touch wrapping over your fingers.

“If you’re having second thoughts about going out, we can always reschedule,” he began cautiously, his tone betraying a flicker of hesitation. “I mean, if you’re not feeling up to go out with me–”

“No!” You denied it so quickly it sounded desperate, your chest tightening at the sensation of his warm palm on yours. “Of course not! I invited you, and I really, really want to go, Hee,” clearing away his doubt took priority number one, and without even realizing it, the words left your lips in a voice both firm and gentle. “I really want to spend time with you. Outside of work. Just the two of us. On a date. Okay?”

Heeseung noticed how you had been absent for several minutes, your gaze distant as it lingered on a spot on the table, making him wonder if there was something there he couldn’t see – maybe his glasses needed a stronger prescription or something. But no, you were just lost in thought, and reading you like that stoked the uncertainty, hesitation eating his confidence away.

He had accepted your invitation immediately, because he wanted to go out with you more than anything. Maybe the night would end with a few kisses exchanged in his car and, perhaps – hopefully –, something more.

But any hint of hesitation from you made his confidence waver unexpectedly, even if you weren’t truly unsure. If he knew the real reason behind your sudden distance, he would understand why your mind had wandered. And could even drive you through it willingly.

Nevertheless, once you reassured him it rekindled the invisible threads of hope that had been flickering to waver, easing the tensed nerves of his body and bringing a relieved smile to his face.

With a soft squeeze on your hand, he whispered, praying not to fumble since he just realized you called it a date and his heart chose to perform acrobatics, flipping somersaults in his chest.

“Shall we?”

The dinner was wonderful, relatively early but lovely, carried with comfortable chats and hands searching for each other. Then Heeseung suggested a walk to a nearby park so you could enjoy ice cream together, blushing furiously as he gave the idea for thinking it might be a bit cheesy and silly.

You loved it. You loved ice cream.

You strolled for a while, leisurely, with no rush, exchanging words, sharing thoughts, and flirting subtly – some moments that even left you flustered, stirring fumbles and stutters that Heeseung stated internally it was his personal favorite side of you.

You heard him talk about the anxieties he felt at work, being newly hired and dealing with the pressures was definitely a struggle. So you shared what calmed you amid chaos, hoping something could ease his worries as much as it did for yours. Other than that, you offered your presence and listening for whenever he felt like venting out. He thanked you with a pretty smile. You nearly stumbled on your feet.

And just like that, the next date was decided. A quiet, but certainly personal one: Sunday at your place, correcting the remaining assignments and hanging out the rest of the evening.

Then, before you both could reach the bench where you planned to sit, your ice cream nearly finished since you were a slow eater, Heeseung suddenly stopped and looked at you. Confused, you mimicked his motion and asked with worry, “Something’s wrong?”

When your eyes met, you recognized a glint of desperation and longing, an unspoken anticipation for something you didn’t know yet, but it ignited the same ache in your chest.

Your heart raced uncontrollably when Heeseung took a step forward, its thump-thump echoing in your ear like a distant thunder when he slowly, but surely closed the distance between you both.

The moonlight illuminating your faces became a silent accomplice, your gazes, heavy with unshed confessions, translating what either of you failed to articulate.

Heeseung let out a sigh, the delicate sound escaping his lips like a subtle breeze to caress your skin, before slowly running his tempting tongue over the curve of his mouth. Your eyes darted towards it, as though a magnetic pull drew your attention to the area without leaving control for you.

Your surprise was written all over your face, yet it faded quickly, when Heeseung leaned in even closer, his presence drawing you into a bubble where the rest of the world no longer existed. The surroundings turned into a blur, an ethereal fog wrapping you two in a cocoon of warmth and soft tension.

As his hand reached up to caress your cheek, there was a moment of hesitation, an unspoken uncertainty lingering in the air between you. His fingers brushed gently over your skin with a feather-light touch, as though testing the waters, while his eyes flickered through your features, marveling with attention.

His other hand, however, settled firmly on your waist, pulling you closer and anchoring you in place. The pressure was subtle and unmistakable, making your breath get caught in your throat.

“I want to kiss you,” under the stars, Heeseung confessed.

The air thickened, the last piece of the ice cream cone promptly dropping to the ground because you were too busy searching for physical contact; your fingers traced an invisible line across Heeseung’s chest, covered by the light dress shirt, until they found comfort on his broad shoulders.

“I want to kiss you too,” with a genuine mutuality, built slowly through the weeks and now finally transformed into words, you eased the weight on your chest.

It was different to simply think and to verbalize. Putting into words made it real. It showed the vulnerability hidden behind the idealization, working as a strong grounding where you, so far, feared to walk in. But Heeseung wanted to go with you just as much.

A gentle, relieved smile graced the corner of his mouth and made you mirror it almost automatically, as if the relationship created through the days synched into an admirable connection where your bodies worked together, unison.

Eye contact remained as quiet promises hanged in the air, until your eyelids grew heavy, emotions swirling inside you and overpowering the last fragments of reasoning. The distance between you deliberately shrank, and you briefly savored the soft touch of Heeseung’s uneven breath as his parted lips grazed over yours, as a silent invite for you to meet him mid-way.

And you did.

Heeseung was fully tense now, body quivering slightly as desperation swallowed his capacity to think straight; he could feel his hands trembling on your jawline and waist, goosebumps covering his entire being.

Touching your lips felt like embracing a plush, fluffy cloud, caressing his flesh with care and tenderness. It was delightful, carrying a warmth of affection he had never experienced with anyone else.

The very first contact was experimental, a delicate pull to ease the foreign encounter of skins, but held a trace of purpose that conveyed the inner turmoil happening inside. For short seconds you backed away, your lips ajar, silently expressing neediness that led you to lean in once more, diving into kissing Heeseung properly, because the fleeting meet wasn’t enough for you. You yearned more.

When your tongues brushed against each other after a bold move coming from you, Heeseung groaned, the shock coursing through his body was indescribable. If he had to find words to express, he would choose the idea of a surge of electricity at the highest voltage, yet without pain or discomfort but definitely intense as such. On the contrary, it seemed to soothe every fragile piece of his soul with subtle firmness – a graceful, beautiful, and gentle contrast.

Waves of unfamiliar sensations filled your chests like butterflies dancing joyously to the rhythm you slowly unveiled together, flooding you two with a sense of “finally” that resonated louder than anything else in that moment.

Finally, you discovered the taste you craved the most; Heeseung's mouth tasted like strawberries. And devotion. It blended with the flavor of caramel melting on your tongue, a sweet and addictive mix. It bordered on surreal, like utopian dreams, unreachable, and definitely intoxicating.

While Heeseung finally discovered the softness of your lips, the delicate curve of it driving his instincts to deepen the kiss eagerly, his fingers tightening on your waist as if afraid you might slip away.

He wasn’t going to let go. Neither were you.

The world outside completely fell away. The few things that mattered and you could focus on was the heat of Heeseung’s touch, the pressure of his tongue against yours, and the frantic pace of your heartbeats intertwining together. The kiss wasn’t simply a kiss anymore, it was the culmination of all the unspoken tension, all the longing that had been building between you. A promise under the moonlight that was finally being kept.

Breathing was becoming a difficult task as the seconds passed, so you had to reluctantly break the contact, but only enough to catch your breath, your foreheads gently resting on each other.

Your eyes remained closed, heavy due to the adrenaline rushing your veins relentlessly, your pulse wildly pounding as though it aimed to set fire to your skin. It was as if the weight of tons had lifted off your shoulders, soothing your soul with an uneven calm, even though your body now burned with desire, claiming for more.

Heeseung, on the other hand, felt like he had stepped into a new world, unbelieving of what had just happened. Breaking the blissful chaos happening inside, he breathed out a giggle, the sound both turning the dreamlike sensation into a tangible emotion and causing you to flutter your eyes open.

You leaned back ever so slightly to find him with an adorable expression, one that exuded sincerity, need and something similar to disbelief.

“What’s wrong?” You asked softly, feeling your cheek flush with a sudden shyness as the tips of your fingers started to wander around the silky strands of Heeseung’s hair, trailing random patterns, which drew a sigh from him.

Heeseung leaned into the touch when you cupped his face with one palm before he shook his head, the movement causing your noses to nuzzle against one another due to the proximity, and his glasses to tilt off a little. Then his smile widened, another delicate giggle gifting your hearing and your sight, since his two hooded eyes turned into small crescents behind the transparent lenses.

“I'm kinda not believing that we just kissed,” he whispered quietly on your lips. You deliberately licked them, exhaling a chuckle at his adorableness.

Another shaky sigh escaped Heeseung, the edge of his ears turning into a crimson shade and the skin beneath your fingers warming noticeably.

“Yeah?” A small, amused smirk played on your mouth, your voice dropping to a low tone, bordering on sultry as your eyes rose, seeking the contact you so loved to maintain; those two beautiful chocolate orbs held yours, drawing you in with pure affection. “Does it feel unreal?”

Heeseung’s heartbeat quickened when you boldly, yet slowly brushed your thumb on his bottom lip, leaving no room for answers because he was falling apart, crumbling under your intensity. He then prevented you from the beautiful scenery of his glimmering eyes oozing you once he closed them to enjoy your touch.

A soft hum escaped his throat, a subtle response to the question hanging in the air that sounded a little extra sensual to your ears, a noise that definitely had no right to spasm a heat down your core.

Heeseung’s head moved slightly with a silent nod afterwards, as if to say he didn’t have the proper words to explain how out of this world, how overwhelming kissing you felt.

“Then kiss me again, Heeseung,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, lips teasingly grazing over his. Heeseung's heart stuttered, his breath faltering. “Kiss me again, and maybe it'll start to feel real.”

For a fleeting moment, hesitation flashed in his eyes as he opened them. His hungry gaze flickered between your parted, inviting lips and the anticipation burning in your stare. Had he heard you right? Did you truly want this again – want him?

You caught the way his throat bobbed with a hard swallow, the grip on your waist tightening, almost possessive, though beneath it lay his tensed uncertainty. His other hand remained where it was, cradling your face with a gentleness that contrasted the intensity of his hold, sending an unbidden shiver cascading down your spine.

But it was your expectant, eager eyes, glowing with nothing but unfiltered desire that shattered his doubts. There was no fear, no reluctance, not even the slightest trace of insecurity coming from you. Just raw, unspoken, confident want. One more kiss. Just one more.

And so, he claimed your mouth, capturing your lower lip between his, sucking on it with a fervent need as his eyes fluttered shut – and so did yours. A soft, breathy smack echoed when he finally released it from the grasp of his own plush lips, waiting for your next decision.

A rush of warmth spread between you as your mouth searched for his instinctively, to deepen the rhythm with the passion intensifying and the pace quickening. Your tongues intertwined in a seamless dance, a newfound hunger guiding how they moved.

The hand that once caressed you wavered for a second before gliding down to your waist, fingers flexing as he pulled you flush against him. The friction was subtle, but enough to steal the breath from your lungs, a gasp getting lost amidst the kiss.

Heeseung was starting to show signs of a deeper yearning, a need darker and unexplored, untouched up until this moment, but still restraining himself, an inner fight unveiling before you both.

The discrepancy in his actions laid bare the true, fractured side of his divided desire – caught between surrendering to the primal instinct to kiss you over and over again with reckless abandon, without stopping, and the struggle to control himself, to rein in the sheer force of his craving.

But if he lost himself on you, you wouldn’t mind, not when he kissed you like this; so fiercely, so feverishly. It was intoxicating the way Heeseung devoured you with such raw need, as if this was everything, his only want, his only need, the very essence of his happiness.

The two of you clung to each other with an almost desperate tenderness at this point, as if feeling the warmth of the other’s skin was the only thing tethering you to reality – as if this simple touch carried the last breath of joy, of desire, of life itself.

You sighed into his mouth, your nails scratching lightly against his scalp, drawing a delicious groan from deep within his chest. The sound alone sent a spark of pleasure coursing through you and you thanked for the tight grip on your hips, otherwise you would probably fall.

Your other hand clutched the fabric of his shirt, as though it would be able to anchor you away from the reality unfolding inside your brain; one that definitely didn’t stop there, in the middle of an open public space.

Heeseung reacted instantly, angling his head to kiss you better, to give you the best, his lips moving with a fervor that made your entire body buzz with the type of heat you started to wish to live forever with.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, panting for air, Heeseung rested his forehead against yours, his fingers still gripping you as if afraid to let go, enjoying how you held his body just as close, fearing the same.

His hooded and dazed gaze bore into yours, layered with something you couldn’t pinpoint precisely. Not before he murmured with his hoarse voice, taunting your next move. “Still feels unreal.”

You let out a breathy laugh, a feigned scoff due to his sudden shameless demeanor. Your fingertips traced the sharp line of his jaw before settling against his lips, swollen and glistening from your kiss; Heeseung deduced you liked to do that, playing with his sanity enough to drift his soul towards the edge of losing it completely.

“Then maybe,” you purred, tone laced with mischief. “We should try again. Just to make sure.”

Heeseung smirked, eyes darkening, matching yours. He whispered back.

“But not here.”

Heeseung had noticed the way you had practically devoured him with your gaze all afternoon, and he wasn’t sure what to do with that realization.

Well, maybe not all afternoon, but at some point it seemed like you had grown bored of your responsibilities and decided to entertain yourself. How?

It didn’t matter if Heeseung was rambling about dull, tedious things, like students handing in papers filled with blatantly copied textbook answers despite his request for originality. Somehow, you managed to derail his thoughts into dangerous territory.

“Ugh, such a drag, right?” You had responded at the end of his rant, lips pursed in an exaggerated pout as your fingers idly traced along the fabric of his thin sweater, feigning comfort – an excuse to touch him.

Or when he asked for a glass of water, and you returned with his order and… A lollipop between your lips, absently rolling the red-tinted candy over your tongue while pretending to focus on your assignments, casually seated on the floor of your living room as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

And now, when he had simply asked for the bathroom’s location, you had replied, “Last door down the hall, right next to my room.”

There was something so subtle, yet unmistakably deliberate about the way you had emphasized my room, your voice laced with a suggestive tone to make it sound like an unspoken invitation. As if you wanted to plant the thought in his mind – no, better: dare him to wonder where exactly your room was. More precisely, where your bed was.

And it wasn’t as if Heeseung didn’t want you in that way. Of course he did. Ever since Friday’s kiss you had been the only thing occupying his thoughts. He had lost track of time on Saturday, running late to his own commitments, the once carefully maintained routine slipping through his fingers like sand.

You were unraveling him, piece by piece, effortlessly pulling his existence into your orbit, making his sanity wane with an alarming ease.

Now Heeseung found himself standing in the bathroom, unsure of how to step back out, his fumbling fingers disheveled his dark hair.

No, the door wasn’t stuck, nor had any accidents occurred during his time there, he was just frustrated and flustered.

He had lost count of how many times he had leaned over the sink to splash cold water on his face, desperately attempting to ease his nerves, which instinctively tightened at the thought of returning to a closed space with you and your brazenly, shamelessly flirts. What the hell had he gotten himself into with a woman this confident and irresistible?

You, who already carried an enviable self-assurance, were completely in your element. This was your home – you knew every inch of it, and no doubt you could use props to tease Heeseung in ways that would drive him to the brink, just like the fucking lollipop.

If he closed his eyes, the sinful image of your lips wrapping around the candy’s pink tip, sucking with an unbearable slowness, would replay like a cursed mantra – a damn film he couldn’t turn off, the screen stuck on an endless loop inside his restless mind.

It was ironic how naturally and effortlessly your relationship had unfolded… until that one defining kiss.

It felt like those tender embraces – even the ones laced with playful, wandering hands, or the moments when you deliberately hugged him while he was seated, letting his face nestle into the softness of your chest innocently – were the only thing keeping the raw, untamed desire restrained.

But the moment your lips met, the next step became far more tangible; the possibility of ending the day in your bedroom hung in the air, now more than ever thickening the space between you with an unmistakable tension.

On Friday, after deciding to head back to his car under the pretext of finding more privacy, you did exchange a few more touches, none of them pure. The moment you dared to move onto his lap, however, was when Heeseung drew the line.

“Not tonight,” he murmured against your lips, breaking the kiss as a flush of embarrassment crept up his cheeks.

And you respected his words without hesitation, nodding in understanding before sealing the moment with one last tender peck, your eyes dripping with fondness because that’s what Heeseung awakened in you: an equal blend of desire and deep affection, a craving to take care of him in every possible way.

The problem was: he wished it had been that night. That “tonight” that had already passed.

Heeseung ached for you to take him completely, just as he longed to claim you in return. Your delicate hands would probably fit perfectly around his length. Your soft lips would push him further into madness. And your gaze, always so confident and unwavering, would turn even more sultry behind closed doors, leaving him on the verge of collapse.

Heeseung let out a frustrated sigh, panicking once more, his pulse quickening. He would surrender to you in a heartbeat. No hesitation. If the mere feeling of your lips against his had sent him straight to heaven, he could only imagine what the rest of you could do.

There was this one small detail gnawing at his self-assurance, unraveling it into waves of anxiety that threatened to throw his entire system off balance. It had nothing to do with you directly, it was solely about him and his own perspective on sex.

Heeseung valued his partner’s pleasure equally to his own. He firmly believed that both should enjoy the unique and intimate sensations a night of passion could bring. However, his own pleasure was far more… passive. Submissive, even. Would you be okay with that? Would you make fun or give up when he decides that you should take control?

God. Everything becomes a spiral inside his head.

On the other hand, you were patiently waiting for his return, nonetheless your brain was playing tricks to the same extent.

Neither of you had brought up the kiss on Saturday, exchanging only brief messages, both too caught up in your own routines. And when Heeseung showed up at your doorstep for your “professor duties date” with the natural charming smile, greeting him with anything beyond a warm grin and a casual, “Welcome, make yourself at home,” felt oddly improper – even though you had noticed his fingers twitching on his sides, as if anticipating something more from you.

The urge to throw yourself into his arms and ruin him in the most alluring way possible tingled beneath your skin for the rest of the day, your chest hurting with raw need for him.

There was no logical explanation for the effect Heeseung had on you. If you dig to try, you would find mixed conclusions such as those impossibly big, affectionate eyes that stayed locked on you with an almost angelic aura, soaking in every word you spoke with attention and also stirring the deepest profanity thoughts to ever exist.

Or how he had to wet his lips with a frequency that threw your self-control out of the window, now knowing how they taste, only serving as a teasing motion for you to gather more and more arousal and need over them.

Or perhaps, just the remarkable way he was the perfect gentleman around you, treating you as a queen who deserved everything you wanted.

Delaying the conversation or actions felt equally as right as it did utterly wrong. But what struck you the most was realizing that this wasn’t you – at least, not the you that you knew.

You didn’t shy away from challenges, never made excuses to escape a situation, nor avoided conversations that could either lead you exactly where you wanted to be or leave you in shambles. And maybe that was the thing about Heeseung – he dismantled your integrity, unsteadying your footing, weakening the very foundation of who you were.

He made you do things that never belonged to your usual repertoire, because, with ridiculous ease, he had melted a piece of your heart just enough to make space for himself. And you let him.

That was why, when Heeseung finally gathered the courage to step back into the living room, you didn’t even give yourself the chance to notice his timid posture, the way he initially avoided looking at you. The words left your lips like a bullet from a gun after holding the trigger for far too long.

“Heeseung, I want you.”

The room fell silent. A big pause before anything else happened.

He hadn’t expected the confession. Nor had he expected to find you standing there, visibly waiting for him just to say it out loud. He lifted his gaze only to be met with the very woman who had been haunting his thoughts – the one who was always so sure of herself, so fucking intoxicatingly aware of what she wanted.

And he couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down his spine when you took a step forward. Then another. And another. Until you were right there, face to face, breath to breath, heat to heat.

Your jaw was clenched, the tension betraying the firm decision you had already made. Your eyes burned, dark with intent, and Heeseung felt himself shrink under your presence, overwhelmed by the so commanding atmosphere you carried. And yet, despite the way his body tensed, his pulse quickened, his breath grew ragged, he felt himself growing painfully eager. Painfully hard.

Because this was exactly what he liked.

The air between you thickened, heavy with a quiet-loud anticipation. The only sound filling the space was the uneven rhythm of your breathing, tangled together, syncing, feeding into the tension neither of you dared to break. You remained steady, firm. Heeseung, on the other hand, felt his skin prickle, his knees nearly buckling beneath him. God, you were so, so unbearably sexy.

His eyes traced your features as if committing them to memory, memorizing every curve, every line, as though he would later etch them into a canvas in silent admiration. And you were doing similar. But then he noticed something. You were holding back.

Your hands, still hanging at your sides, twitched with a restless itch to reach for him, but an invisible boundary you refused to cross without permission restrained you.

So you leaned in closer, sealing the final sliver of space between you. Your forehead pressed against Heeseung’s, noses barely brushing as your breath mingled in the heated air between you. Your lashes fluttered shut, and in a voice barely above a whisper, you pleaded, “Please… tell me you want me too.”

And that was it. That was the moment Heeseung shattered. Every last ounce of hesitation, every lingering doubt, was cast aside like it had never existed in the first place.

“Please,” he echoed, though his voice trembled, thick with something raw, desperate.

Your eyes snapped open, searching his face as confusion flickered across your features. You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze fully, taking in the sight of him; his slightly furrowed brows, the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, the way his dark, blown-out eyes bore into yours, brimming with hunger, longing, surrender.

“Please,” Heeseung whispered again, his grip tightening as he took your hands in his, threading his fingers through yours as if grounding himself in the touch. His eyes briefly dipped downward, to the sight of your intertwined hands as if it were something sacred. “I want you. So fucking much.” His voice was nearly a whimper now, thick with emotion, aching with need.

Then, slowly, Heeseung lifted your hands to his flushed cheeks and positioned them there, his own covering yours to make sure you wouldn’t let go, as he let the heat of his skin seep into your palms.

He shuddered beneath your fingertips, his breath stuttering as he leaned into the warmth you offered so freely. “Touch me,” he said within a breath, yet laced with craving, coaxing you to do so. “Use me…”

Heeseung melted into your touch like a man starved, nuzzling into your palm before pressing a soft, tender kiss to the center of it. A shiver ran down your spine at the way his lips brushed against your skin, like he was worshiping the moment, like he was silently begging for more.

And something inside you twisted, a sharp pang of affection and want so intense it left you breathless, your pulsing core now demanding some attention. This wasn’t quite what you had expected, but the way Heeseung looked at you, as though you were something divine, as if he was ready to kneel at your feet and offer himself up without a second thought, sent a wild rush of heat through your veins.

Then, locking his gaze with yours, pupils dark, blown wide and heavy with lust, he delivered the ultimate, the final spark to the fire.

“Make me yours.”

And fuck, you would.

To say your lips merely connected would be an understatement. Heeseung jolted slightly at the force with which you yanked him forward, meeting you halfway as you leaned in, sealing your mouths together in a kiss that was both lustful and unrelenting. The slow, deliberate contact created soft, intoxicating noises, your faces moving in perfect harmony to deepen the moment; the fading sugary taste of your lollipop dissolving slowly on Heeseung’s tongue.

Your bodies slotted together effortlessly, like two puzzle pieces finding their rightful place. The hands that had once cradled Heeseung’s face, now traced a heated path down his neck before threading into his hair, fingertips grazing his skin with intent. Instinctively, his own hands found your waist, gripping firmly as he pulled you flush against his warmth, as if needing you impossibly closer.

A quiet sigh slipped past your lips as Heeseung’s hands dug into your waist, boldly searching for bare skin so his fingers could start to explore better the curves of your body; the same old possessive grip holding you in place although you guided the entire of the kiss. He was letting you decide the pace, when and where he had the freedom and openness to move his tongue and suck your bottom lip.

Realizing how firm and claiming Heeseung was pushing you towards his body elicited an immediate shiver down your spine, your skin flaming hot, a warmth that was definitely palpable; Heeseung’s own state wasn’t much different, as heat coiled around you.

It was only when your lungs screamed for relief that you both pulled away, but Heeseung was utterly lost, desperate to continue feeling your warmth. He pressed wet, heated kisses down your neck, each one more urgent than the last. He longed to explore every inch of your smooth flesh, craving to discover what made you tremble with desire, focused solely on filling you with pleasure.

“Did you figure out where my room is?” The question left you in a breathless whisper, laced with suggestion, a sharp inhale breaking into a muffled groan when Heeseung sank his teeth into a tender spot on your neck before pulling back to meet your gaze.

Your eyes searched for his, dark and hooded, your faces hovered over each other’s, both caught in a slow, tantalizing rhythm – a tease, a challenge, neither closing the distance completely. His bangs, completely off place, brushed softly against your forehead.

“So it was intentional?” Heeseung murmured skeptically, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk, his lips flushed and kiss-bruised. He was simply putting the pieces together, waiting for confirmation.

You didn’t bother hiding your wicked grin. “Not exactly. I just took a shot in the dark to see if it would pay off,” you purred, leaning in to catch his lower lip between your teeth before adding, “And judging by your reaction…” You dragged your nails lightly down the nape of his neck, savoring the way his breath hitched. “I think you’ve got the idea.”

Heeseung huffed a chuckle, “Then…” His words trailed off as his gaze flickered from your swollen lips to your piercing stare. You noticed his voice dropping an octave, taking on a dangerously alluring tone as he continued. “Should I show what I’ve learned, teacher?”

He watched as something unspoken flashed in your eyes for the briefest of moments when he called you that, his tone thick with sensuality; it was as though the roles had reversed, and now he was the one playing the provocateur.

You didn’t bother hiding how your body reacted to the murmured word, your breath visibly faltering, the hairs at the nape of your neck standing on end. But you never wavered. Your commanding stance remained unwavering, like a tree rooted so deeply that not even the fiercest storm could bring it down.

And there was something about that unshakable composure of yours that drove Heeseung absolutely insane. Only then did he realize he wouldn’t be able to maintain his role as the tease for much longer, not when you, in the most tantalizing way, flashed a side grin, wetting your lips with a slow, torturous motion, silently emphasizing that you could ruin his existence completely with ease – and he would relish every second of it.

“I like your confidence,” you murmured, raising an eyebrow, eyes dripping with a perfect blend of amusement, daring, and pure, raw desire. Heeseung’s breath came ragged, waiting. “I’d like to see you try, though.”

This wasn’t about the way to your bedroom anymore.

Unlike you, Heeseung did back down from certain challenges, knowing his limitations. And he definitely had no desire to push you just to test your limits – at least not that night. All he craved was the bare, unfiltered contact of your skin within the four walls that enclosed your bed.

And that single realization fueled his next actions. His hands lowered to your ass, gripping firmly before hoisting you up, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

The kiss that followed was messy, because Heeseung refused to close his eyes – he didn’t trust himself not to trip along the way. You let out quiet giggles in between the feverish exchange, finding it utterly endearing how he struggled to kiss you back while also staying focused enough to walk.

The position made you keenly aware of something hard pressing against your clothed cunt; Heeseung’s growing state sent a pulse of heat surging through you, a natural clench on your walls being an indicator of your own condition.

With precise movements, you both reached your final destination. Your body ached for the comfort of your bed, ready to embrace your back… if only Heeseung hadn’t sat at the edge of the mattress with you still straddling him, offering you full control over what came next.

The kiss finally deepened with proper intent, tongues brushing slowly, melting into a molten blend of warmth and desire. Your hands framed Heeseung’s face, holding him in place, guiding him to move exactly as you pleased.

His grip on your ass slackened, shifting from possessive control to a softer hold, simply keeping you steady so you wouldn’t slip.

Your hips began rolling forward, seeking friction through the layers of fabric separating you. The movement drew a low, needy sound from Heeseung, who instinctively pressed you down against him, encouraging the rhythm.

Tired of the teasing, you let your lips wander down to his neck, claiming the sensitive skin that shuddered beneath your touch. The deliberate pace at which you explored him mirrored how his body slowly reclined with you pushing ever so slightly to sink it into the mattress, until Heeseung was completely laid out under you, at your mercy.

A devilish grin ghosted over your lips when it dawned at you the alignment you both had settled; perfectly sitting on top of the man who clearly revealed his opposition to hold control, leaving space for your dominance to appear in full display.

Your hand briefly cupped Heeseung's cheek as your teeth grazed his prominent Adam’s apple, gently sucking the spot to soothe any lingering sting. His throat’s bulge bobbed as a quiet sigh escaped him, the sound drawing your fingers lower, tracing the defined line of his collarbone. You felt the firm texture of his bone beneath your fingertips, as your hips moved over his unmistakable hardness.

Another pleasant sound filled the dimly lit room, signaling the deepening of the night. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the passionate moment unfolding between you.

You kept the pace agonizingly slow with your hips, your hands never staying still, mapping every inch of Heeseung’s subtly muscular body that tensed with each of your touches, from his biceps to his covered chest, until they gradually slipped beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling the soft skin of his stomach tighten under your fingertips.

It was undeniable that this was affecting you too, your body burning with yearning, aching to remove the last barrier keeping your bodies apart, even though they were already so close.

You were so fucking turned on by everything; the tantalizing noises Heeseung ever so often let out, how he had closed his eyes and furrowed his forehead, lips ajar with breathy, low groans passing through, utterly consumed by the moment.

By now your panties were beyond ruined, drenched in your leaking arousal, the fabric clinging to your pussy with every subtle shift. It urged your body to respond, to stimulate yourself even faster, though it lingered deeper in the sweet tormention of anticipation rather than pushing you towards your actual release.

The rub you guided was more than intentional; your clit pressing what you deduced was Heeseung’s tip in calculated circles, the rigidness of his length easing your rhythm as you rocked back and forth.

In search of an improved position, you lifted your torso, knees bent and pressed against the bed, slotting Heeseung’s hips between them, granting easy access for your nails to shamelessly wander over his stomach. You also found better support for yourself in this new angle.

It was only then that you realized Heeseung had released your waist, letting his arms relax, though his grip on the sheets remained obvious, his knuckles whitening with each more intense roll of your hips.

You were completely unaware of the whirlwind of thoughts Heeseung was struggling to suppress, the inner battle not to completely surrender, knowing that doing so would mean having his orgasm far too soon. His tightly shut eyes weren’t simply a reaction to the pleasure; they were a desperate attempt to control the terror of losing himself and ruining the moment. Clutching the sheets grounded some rational part in him.

Realizing you wouldn't stop anytime soon had him making the embarrassing decision to state the obvious. So amid the deafening silence, broken only by the soft moans from both of you, Heeseung’s voice sliced through.

“If you keep going, then–” he cut himself off with a shaky moan, his body betraying his words as his hips jerked upward, desperate to meet your grinding. His fingers twitched against the sheets, fighting the urge to grip your waist and force you to keep moving – a choice he made himself. “Then I won’t last…”

“Then don’t.”

His heavy eyelids fluttered open, pupils blown wide with dazed confusion after your quick, yet steady reply. The second he caught the silent demand in your eyes his breath hitched, and a shiver visibly ran through him. “What… What do you mean?”

A slow smirk curled on your lips as you laced your fingers around his wrists, pinning them to the mattress near his handsome face with enough force to act as a reminder. Your hips rolled forward, deliberate and unhurried, dragging out every friction-filled second. The heat between you was stifling, and you swore you could feel his pulse racing beneath your fingertips.

Heeseung’s gaze flickered between your piercing expression and the maddening rhythm of your hips, his flushed cheeks only growing redder. His lashes fluttered as he struggled to keep his beautiful round eyes open, his parted lips spilling out breathy whimpers, while you relished every second of it.

“You think you can cum just from me riding you fully clothed, Hee?”

Your explanation came in the form of an ask, a very filthy, lustful guided question, your velvety tone cursing through his nerves, erasing the straight thoughts that struggled to keep existing inside his head, his self-control pathetically slipping through his inner grasp.

All Heeseung could see and feel was you, torturing his mind, pulling him deeper into the haze of overwhelming desire.

“Fuck,” he breathed a curse, head tipping back as his hands clenched into fists beneath your grip. You were unreal – his dream girl made flesh, effortlessly destroying him without even taking off a single layer of clothing. “Fuck, I definitely can, but–”

Another interruption with a beautiful whimper. Oh, you were enjoying it so much; were you in heaven? Or hell? Either way, you didn’t want to leave.

“But…?” You urged smoothly with a mellow tone, even cocking your head to the side as if that would add a charm for your wicked character, because you, more than anyone, knew what your next decision would be.

As expected, a strangled moan escaped Heeseung when you pressed down harder, his body reacting before he could think, his back arching slightly as his expression crumbled in pleasure.

Heeseung tried desperately to find any rational reason amid the flood of thoughts you had filled his head with – anything beyond the humiliating and obvious truth that he didn't want to reach to cum just yet.

“But I don’t have spare clothes here,” he concluded in one go, voice trembling with equal parts desperation and restraint, since he was going through a strong rush of delightful emotions.

You hummed, amused by the fact that he could still manage to form a coherent thought in his current state. Leaning in just enough for your breath to ghost over his lips, you whispered, “Fair point, Hee,” before releasing your grip on his wrist. “Shall we solve this little problem, then?”

Without waiting for a response, you pulled away, beginning to undress your upper body, tossing your shirt carelessly onto the floor. Heeseung remained frozen in place, his hooded eyes blinking slowly, staring at the ceiling, still feeling the lingering heat of your body against his, trying to process your words.

It wasn’t until you softly murmured his nickname that his attention snapped back to you, his gaze shifting from confusion to unapologetic hunger as it took in your fully exposed form.

The gasp escaped him before he could stop it, and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh at his immediate, spontaneous reaction. The warmth in your chest contrasted with the lustful heat guiding your actions and clouding your thoughts. Heeseung was too cute for your poor heart.

“Damn,” Heeseung whispered after propping himself up on his elbows to take you in better, his eyes filled with awe as he admired your body while you approached.

His gaze traced every inch of your skin, the curves he had so often dreamed about touching, your beautiful boobs, often where he rested his cheeks within your usual hug, now laid bare in front of him, like a perfect canvas for him to finally savor.

Heeseung’s eyes stopped on your uncovered pussy, darting back to your legs every once in a millisecond as if he didn’t know where to look. You watched as he ran his tongue over his lower lip before biting it, almost as if entranced with you.

The compliment that followed was engulfed in sincerity, leaving no room for doubt about it. And you smiled in response.

“You’re fucking perfect.”

It was common for you to receive compliments; you were aware of your beauty and felt confident in it. However, receiving a compliment from Heeseung felt different, somehow more special, because it came from someone you cared about and liked.

You worried about being pretty in Heeseung’s eyes.

Thanks to the soft light in your room, you didn’t have to explain why your cheeks had flushed, knowing that from the distance Heeseung wouldn’t be able to notice.

For a brief moment you thought you would have to tell him to occupy the same form as you – naked. But thankfully he understood the message loud and clear after eye-fucking your body for a while, sitting up to remove his shirt with his back turned to you. You took the opportunity to grab a condom from your nightstand.

Heeseung stood up to unbutton his belt and slip out of his jeans, which easily fell from his hips, leaving him in just his black underwear.

You already knew he had broad shoulders and a slim waist – some of his clothing choices certainly helped accentuate that discovery, and what a delightful one it was. Seeing it up close, nonetheless, had you indescribably overreacting.

The subtle muscles of his back flexed and tightened with each movement, having you clenching your cunt without even noticing. The smooth line of his spine was being accentuated by the blended dim light and silver-moonlight, which got your breath stuck in your throat; witnessing Heeseung undressing himself felt like visiting a museum, where a carved sculpture, chiseled by the gods with the softest, kindest, and most gifted hands of Olympus lived.

Your mouth watered with an unmistakable urge to bite and taste every inch of that lightly bronzed skin.

“God. And you’re a fucking sight,” you breathed, your words barely audible but filled with hunger.

Heeseung turned to look at you holding back a grin. Your eyes locked as now you sat at the edge of the bed, waiting for the little show to finish. Your mischievous smile revealed every single naughty thought that passed through your mind, and there was no shame in it.

You pressed your teeth on your bottom lip when you got a better view of his chest, your gaze leisurely roaming, taking in every tiny detail until they stopped at the bulge in his underwear. And there, your mouth salivated harder.

Heeseung remained still, relishing the way you openly admired him; the truth behind your ravenous eyes unveiled between the two of you, heightening the heat that was becoming nearly unbearable. It was clear how badly you desired him, and this had an undeniable effect on his cock, growing harder every second, pulsing with the need of some relief.

Being adored wasn’t exactly something new to Heeseung, but he could certainly say that the way you expressed it stirred parts of him – parts he not only kept hidden from almost everyone, but was more than eager to explore with you.

And then, you purred, “Come here, hm?”

But instead of letting Heeseung come closer, you, yourself, shifted on the bed, moving onto all fours before deliberately crawling towards him, your gaze unwavering and charged, never breaking as you drew nearer. Heeseung was utterly stunned, gulping down the lump on his throat as he watched the unfolding filthy scene.

When you finally reached his handsome and ridiculously hot figure, you stopped, uplifting your torso to get on your knees and align perfectly with his height. Now face to face Heeseung finally let out the breath he didn’t even notice he was holding, his legs threatening to falter because, fucking shit, you, with your unyielding eyes and sexy demeanor, was tearing his resistance apart, breaking deliciously each part of his cohesive existence.

Oblivious to the actual state of Heeseung, your fingers reached out, barely ghosting over the sensitive flesh of his waist as you murmured extremely close to his ear, “Let me make you feel good.”

Heeseung exhaled sharply, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his gaze darkened, flickering between your neck and your bare boobs. For a second, he hesitated, hands halting mid-air because the tension between you two was nearly suffocating and he feared scaring you with his neediness.

Would it be okay to touch you, now that you were naked? What if he exceeded any silent boundaries he didn’t manage to catch?

Fuck. You looked so damn beautiful with the lunar glow against your skin, your gleaming eyes dripping with arousal and hunger as they roamed over his features when you leaned back, drinking in each quarter with care and attention. Heeseung felt seen, cherished even.

With the way your fingertips traced his abdomen simply to position your hands there, patiently waiting for a green sign, it quickly shattered whatever restraint he had left.

With a quiet, breathy groan Heeseung closed the gap, his hands finding your jawline, fingers pressing into your skin with a need so raw it sent shivers down your spine. You also moaned against his lips, his tongue searching for yours to deepen the contact.

By a not-so-gentle reminder of its painful neglect, Heeseung felt his sensitive dick twitch inside his underwear when you pushed him towards the bed, easily maneuvering his body to return to the previous position you both were in. Your thigh brushed exactly on his length and elicited an immediate moan.

But before you could settle on top of him with your lips still attached to each other, Heeseung broke away with an aching whisper, breathless.

“I’m so fucking hard.”

You lifted your head enough to meet his gaze, cocking it to the side in feigned confusion – you had heard him perfectly well. “Hm?”

He looked so cute, his brow furrowed and those wide eyes of his looking at you with longing, mixed with a trace of desperation. It was clear that the said desperation was only growing, becoming undeniable as he jerked his hips upwards, seeking contact with your bare pussy.

With a playful smile, you pushed yourself apart slightly, watching him groan in frustration; but even with the firm grip on your waist, he didn’t force you downwards.

“Don’t make me wait longer…”

You raised an eyebrow, biting your lower lip as a thought crossed your mind. You had to test the waters of a conversation that had yet to be broached between the two of you – this was still your first night, after all.

“Where are your manners, Heeseung?”

Your voice held no real reprimand, but Heeseung couldn’t help feeling the urge to respond properly, just as much. He sighed a curse, the sound shaky as you hovered your lips over the abused skin of his neck.

“Fuck,” Heeseung had completely lost himself as you moved your hips to press against his without a warning, wincing due to the feel of your cunt so close, so deliberately teasing him, yet ridiculously distant.

His eyes squeezed shut, lips pursing tightly together in an effort to suppress the pathetic sounds threatening to escape. Heat rushed to his face, the flush of embarrassment coloring his skin as he realized how effortlessly you had taken control of him; the way you wore your behavior, so assertively and confident, was making him feel vulnerable in the best way possible.

Heeseung’s voice cracked when he finally let out a frustrated but, crucially, submissive murmur. “Sorry… Please. Just don’t make me wait any longer– I need you. I’m so hard. Please…”

The waters had been tested, proving themselves warm and inviting. Heeseung responded well to your teasing and demeanor, his reactions fueling your confidence. So, you took the plunge, leaning in until your lips barely grazed the shell of his ear.

“Good boy.”

A strange wave crashed through his body the moment his brain processed those syllables, piecing them together into a phrase that sent a jolt straight to his core. Good boy? Fuck. Heeseung barely managed to suppress a whimper, his muscles tensing as if trying to contain the way it unraveled him.

Being called that shouldn’t affect him so much, but how could he blame himself? You looked hot, sounded hotter, and the way you said it, so effortlessly sultry, made something in him snap. He realized then that he craved being your good boy more than he was willing to admit. If he weren’t so aware of his own self-destructive tendencies he would have half a mind to set your voice as his ringtone, only to hear it over and over. But he knew better. Knew he would end up ridiculously hard every time his phone rang.

Your wicked smirk told him everything – you knew exactly what you were doing to him. Enjoying the palpable control you had over his being, you leaned back just enough to catch the flicker of change on his flushed face. His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours, swimming with undivided attention and unspoken need. A heavy pulse throbbed beneath you, and instinctively, you clenched in response.

With a mocking tilt of your head, you let your voice drop to a sarcastic, almost bitter tone, “Let’s take off this last piece, shall we?” You motioned to his underwear, helping to remove it once he obeyed you. “I don’t want to make you wait any longer.”

Heeseung grasped the scorn in words right away, the feigned sense of authority you offered hanging in the air and, ironically enough, elicited a breathy chuckle from his throat.

It seemed Heeseung had finally found the woman he had always dreamed of – just as you felt a thrill coursing through your veins at the sight of a man so willing to accept your demanding behavior in the bedroom.

Your gaze dropped briefly to Heeseung’s lower body, eyes catching the sight of his cock standing angry and painfully hard, its impatience nearly palpable as it waited to be enveloped by your warmth. With a mental note to appreciate that part better later, you focused simply on putting the condom, jerking off a few times just to make sure it was right.

Positioned just right, you aligned his leaking tip with your pulsing entrance, supporting yourself by pressing your hands firmly against his chest. The subtle brush of skin against skin had Heeseung letting out a shaky sigh, his hands that had once held your hips now rising to rest gently on your waist, trembling under the weight of anticipation.

He wasn’t just sensitive; he was on edge – nervous in more ways than one. He wasn’t sure how long he would last given the teasing foreplay, and with you pushing him to the brink, he wasn’t confident he would be able to go much longer than a few minutes. But the thing was, he wanted to last. He wanted to make a good impression, to show that he had the stamina and endurance to handle whatever you asked of him. He had lasted this long, so surely, he could hold on a little longer, right?

What he didn’t realize was that the idea of reaching the peak so quickly excited you just as much as the thought of lasting. Knowing that you could reduce him to the point where he would cum fast sent an odd, pleasurable thrill deep into your stomach.

Your eyes locked, Heeseung’s wide-round ones full of both eagerness and caution. Meanwhile, you maintained your poise, your charisma unwavering.

“Shit,” you muttered softly as you sank down, feeling him fill you completely.

You almost felt ridiculous for forcing your eyes to stay open, but you couldn’t help it.

To savor the sight of Heeseung’s lips slightly parted, his breath hitching as his lashes fluttered and his head tipped back was incomparable. The sight of his exposed, sweaty neck, the prominent Adam’s apple jutting out in an almost sinful way, was too much. Without realizing it, you clenched around him.

“Fuck,” Heeseung cursed back, trying to push you further down, hoping to reach the deepest part of you.

At first, you allowed him to guide you without resistance, the sensation of him fully inside you making a pleasurable sigh slip from your lips. But as Heeseung attempted to push you into movement without waiting for your adjustment you steadied yourself, securely resisting as a silent reminder. Just to make sure, you verbalized.

“Nuh-uh,” a mischievous grin curled your lips as you looked down at him, now with open eyes, pouting and frowning at you in a blend of frustration and confusion. “It’s cute how much you think you’re in control.”

His gaze faltered as your words fully sank in, the realization hitting him like a slow, delicious burn – he had absolutely idea what he had just gotten himself into. And, God, he wanted it.

Of course, you would set the pace. Of course, you would call the shots. And him? He would take whatever you were willing to give. That’s what he deserved – what any man would be lucky to have. A woman like you, deciding exactly what to do with him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice small, almost shaky. As if repenting for his misstep, he hesitated before slowly removing his hands from where they had rested, leaving them suspended in the air, an unspoken plea for forgiveness.

You found it adorable.

A soft, amused chuckle escaped your lips as you tilted your head, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. His irises, warm and desperate, watched you intently, hanging onto your next move with delicious longing. You reached for his wrists, gently guiding them up before pinning them to the mattress, securing them above his head.

Something about the action made Heeseung’s skin prickle with a new kind of excitement. It felt foreign but in the best way – like dipping his toes into uncharted territory and finding himself desperate to dive in. He wanted more. Feeling your warmth around him wasn’t enough. The snug heat of your walls was intoxicating, but it lacked the friction he was beginning to ache for.

“Relax,” you mused, maintaining eye contact as you read the conflict in his gaze. “I’m not that cruel.”

And with that, you rolled your hips forward, then back, deliberately slow, setting a languid rhythm that promised to build.

A guttural moan tore from Heeseung’s throat, as if he had been holding it in for God knows how long. His arms twitched, instinctively testing your grip. He could’ve easily broken free, his strength alone was enough to flip the entire situation in his favor. But he didn’t. He stayed there, restrained beneath you, completely at your mercy.

And knowing that Heeseung, tall, strong, capable, could take control at any moment, but chose not to? That alone drove you absolutely insane.

With a newfound determination – one guided by the desire to give that man just as much pleasure as he was giving you – you quickened your pace. Your own sounds spilled from your lips, unrestrained, unchecked, lost to the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

To Heeseung it was nothing short of a celestial choir. The delicate pitch of your moans, the breathy whimpers slipping through in between sent shivers down his spine. Every sound you made felt like a melody crafted just for him, threading through his veins, coiling low in his stomach, making it near impossible to think straight.

He did his best to meet your movements, hips twitching as he attempted to thrust upward, but the position did him no favors; his efforts were stifled, his range of motion limited, and as if that weren’t enough to set him on the edge, the sinful sight of your breasts bouncing right in front of him, so close yet just out of reach, only worsened his predicament.

“Fuck,” Heeseung groaned, his voice laced with frustration and raw need. A slow, burning heat spread through his body, intensifying with each calculated movement of your hips, the sensation pooling deep in his lower stomach.

Your gaze drifted to his face, taking in the way his features twisted in pleasure. His eyes barely managed to stay open, rolling back as the squeeze of your walls tightened around him, gripping him in a way that made his breath hitch.

Your hips now moved with purpose, with intention; the way you shifted your motions between rocking back and forth, to bouncing, to drawing circles, making sure his dick touched every part of your warm and slick interior was maddening.

And Heeseung’s body ached for yours just as much.

“Please–” The first actual plea fell past his parted lips, a cry tone covering each syllable with an attractive lust. “Don't stop. I’m getting close–”

Defying his request, however, you decided to slowly decrease your pace to something that drew Heeseung way too close to completely losing it. He looked at you like you were crazy, though he also had the chance to appreciate the faint light that bathed the room, the silver moonlight gleaming on your skin like an ethereal, priceless painting.

Your actions, on the other hand, were evil as hell.

In between a soft giggle, you leaned forward to approach his lips, muttering, “You want that, don't you?”

A silent nod and one more broken, whispered “Please,” from him graced your ears, eliciting your smile to grow wickedly. Then, you brushed your lips against his in a fleeting kiss, barely there, just enough to tease.

As you pulled away, you caught his bottom lip between yours, sucking it gently before letting it slip free with a soft, wet pop. The momentary loss of contact had Heeseung chasing after you, his body acting on pure instinct, pathetically desperate, but you only watched, amused at his demeanor.

You released his wrists, only to guide his warm hands to the connection of your waist and thighs, your own palms covering them to ensure they stayed exactly where you wanted.

With your back straight and posture unwavering, your body went completely still as you lifted yourself ever so slightly – just enough to leave only the pulsing tip of his length nestled inside you, offering no friction, no relief.

“I'm not moving, Hee…” The teasing lilt in your voice was so blatant it was almost cruel.

Heeseung swallowed hard, his gaze roaming over you, trying to ground himself in the feeling of your skin beneath his fingers. But it was useless, he was already too far gone, lost in the pleasure that you so effortlessly denied him.

With a voice like silk, dripping with wicked delight, you murmured, “Show me how desperate you are.”

Heeseung’s breath hitched, his lightly teary eyes darting up to meet yours before flickering downward, lingering on the tantalizing view of your bare chest, and finally settling on where your bodies were still joined.

There was a flash of hesitation, of confusion and innocence, but the moment he caught the knowing smirk on your lips, the way you remained idle, expectant, understanding dawned on him.

“Come on, Hee,” you urged, rolling your hips just enough to offer the barest hint of friction, a mere whisper of what he craved. “Be a good boy for me, mmh?”

Heeseung's grip on your sides tightened with fervor, his darkened gaze searching yours for confirmation – a silent plea to ensure this was exactly what you wanted. The subtle nod you gave was all he needed. Bracing himself, he propped his knees up, pressing his feet into the mattress for support before thrusting into you.

The first stroke was tentative, his body shuddering as he fully sheathed himself inside you once more, adjusting to the scorching heat that enveloped him. But once he settled, his hesitation melted into determination. Heeseung seized your hips, pulling you down with the same force he drove upward, setting a relentless rhythm that filled the air with the sinful melody of skin meeting skin, mingling with the desperate sounds spilling from your lips.

Your hands instinctively sought stability against the headboard, but the moment Heeseung found that sweet spot inside you, angled just right, you abandoned any attempt. Instead, you melted against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, your moans and breathless whimpers vibrating against his sweat-slicked skin. Your fingers tangled in his messy strands, clutching for purchase as pleasure spiraled higher.

“Hee–Heeseung,” you nearly sobbed, your voice trembling, a blissful hum following right after. “Right there. Right fucking there,” you gritted out, laced with a warning tone so he wouldn’t dare to stop.

And he wouldn’t. Not when you squeezed around him like that. Not when your voice turned so sweetly desperate near his ear. Not when he felt you tremble with each merciless thrust straight into that spot.

The coil felt impossibly tight, the telltale heat building in his core, threatening to snap at any second. Heeseung was helpless to fight it, his release crashing over him with overwhelming intensity; his entire body tensed as he slammed his hips up one final time, holding you there, buried to the hilt, shaking as he moaned your name with shameless abandon.

The way he gripped you, the way he trembled beneath you, the guttural sounds spilling from his lips and, fuck, how firmly he pressed right into your cervix was more than enough to push you over the edge. You shattered around him, clenching so hard it pulled another ragged groan from his throat, your own cries of pleasure filling the space as you unraveled together.

Heeseung filled the condom inside of your sensitiveness and sent a wave of aftershock through your body, the pleasant high still coating your senses

Heavy, ragged breaths were all that remained in the aftermath, your thighs burning with exhaustion, your body too spent to move. Heeseung was no better – completely dazed, lost in the intoxicating haze of pleasure.

At some point, Heeseung genuinely wondered if he had just died; his entire body slackened after holding so much tension and releasing it through an overwhelming orgasm, a blissful numbness overtaking his limbs. And honestly? If this was the afterlife, he wouldn’t mind staying a little longer.

Monday morning felt as ordinary as any other – except it wasn’t. Not really. Because, apparently, your new normal now involved making out with Heeseung in the parking lot, tucked away behind his car like a couple of reckless teenagers sneaking around.

The difference? You were both adults. Professors, no less. The same ones who had caught students kissing in this very spot more times than you could count.

“Will I see you later?” You asked, voice deliberately sweet, a playful melody slipping through.

It was a side of you that only surfaced around Heeseung, one he seemed to enjoy, judging by the way he looked at you – eyes filled with something warm, something fond.

His hands rested securely on your waist, your arms draped over his shoulders, fingers idly playing with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. Everything was in its rightful place.

“Not sure if I can, babe.”

Babe.

The pet name had rolled off his tongue for the first time that morning when he greeted you, as effortless as the kiss that followed, although he had cheeks burning in shyness afraid of your reaction. Nonetheless, you didn’t mind one bit; not when it sent a pleasant flutter through your chest, butterflies swirling in your stomach at the sound of it. It was far too nice of a feeling to brush off.

You pouted, though you didn’t push for an answer. “That’s okay.”

Still, Heeseung felt the need to explain. “I’ve got a meeting with the principal.”

The mere mention of that title made your heart jolt and a brief grimace filled your features. Your gaze darted around on instinct, as if expecting the man to materialize out of thin air. Heeseung chuckled, clearly amused with your adorable reaction.

“Shouldn’t I be the one freaking out?” He teased, tilting your chin up so you would meet his gaze again. His thumb brushed over your jaw in a way that sent a delightful shiver down your spine. “I’m the new hire, after all. Your job is way more secure than mine.”

“Which is exactly why I’m being careful,” you shot back, your playful smirk making him shake his head, clicking his tongue. “I don’t wanna have to visit you at another school.”

“Idiot,” he huffed, rolling his eyes before kissing you again, shutting you up effectively, as your giggle got lost amidst the touch.

That newfound intimacy with Heeseung was sudden, yet it could easily become a routine – one you would never tire of, nor worry about growing dull. There was an undeniable clarity in how every touch, every exchange with him felt like it would only surprise and satisfy you more than the last. The way he held you, how he enveloped you in a cocoon of warmth and quiet affection, was something you allowed yourself to sink into without resistance.

The previous day had been an unintentional experiment, one that had answered questions you hadn’t even realized you had.

Truth be told, your interest in Heeseung had sparked the very first time you met. The tension, the lingering glances, the way your breath hitched in his presence – it had all been telling signs that liking him was inevitable. Falling for him? Even more so. He not only embraced your personality but adapted to it so effortlessly, just as you found yourself welcoming every meticulous, endearing detail about him. Falling for Heeseung felt easy. Natural. Maybe even fated.

Kissing him was like dissolving into an ocean of calm and reassurance you hadn’t known you craved – or needed. Kissing him was slowly, irrevocably, becoming everything.

The chime of your phone interrupted the moment, the alarm you had set reminding you that it was time to head inside. Yes. You had both arrived early just to steal a few moments alone, and yes, you had actually set a timer to make sure you wouldn’t lose track of time.

As you pulled away, your gaze immediately sought his, desperate to capture one last glimpse of that breathtaking face.

“Well, guess I’ll see you around,” you sighed, lips jutting out in another small pout. The idea of not seeing him again for the rest of the day left a dull ache in your chest, and in the past, that feeling might have unsettled you.

But here, with his hands still firm on your waist, grounding you, you could only think of how much more you wanted to stay and feel everything he could yield to you.

Heeseung smirked before pecking your lips quickly, his eyes glinting with something that was equal parts fondness and longing – with just a hint of something else. Something that told you he, too, wished he could spend the rest of the day with you. Or maybe all the days after that.

“See you, babe.”

So saying your classes had been boring ever since was an understatement. Sure, you loved what you did. You had studied and dedicated yourself from day one to get where you were. Designing projects, planning assignments, even crafting exams gave you a very particular thrill that nothing else quite matched – until Heeseung came along.

Not having him around left you restless, almost anxious, like counting the minutes wasn’t enough to settle you. You needed him here. Every single second.

The problem was that work consumed both of you in ways neither could escape. As a new hire, Heeseung was still juggling personal studies while handling the avalanche of subjects thrown onto his plate to deal with. You, on the other hand, already a few steps ahead in the hierarchy, carried the weight of being a solid reference for others, staying committed to improving every day, striving towards eventually securing a senior position.

Making a name for yourself in academia demanded everything – writing papers, conducting deeper, more intensive research. You had carved out time in your routine to focus on it. But now, all you could focus on was Heeseung.

Heeseung was affecting your emotions, your life, and your behavior. There was no denying it.

Throughout your life, you had always been decisive, firm in your choices, knowing what was best for you without hesitation. Sure, there was a level of flexibility and freedom, but even that was deeply tied to your essence. You grew up in spaces that tried to tame you, but that only made you more aware of your own vastness, the greatness you wanted to embrace.

There were no second thoughts. Not frequently, at least. There was no other way to be yourself without shutting out external noise, without disregarding the opinions of those who barely knew you. That built a barrier, one you had come to see as normal, where only a select few ever glimpsed your vulnerability. The thought of being seen in your most hesitant, insecure state was terrifying.

Then, Heeseung.

He made you vulnerable, somehow, to be open about worries you would usually brush off and avoid talking about, and it never felt forced; it was effortless, natural, he genuinely wanted to listen, and even help.

At the same time, he made you self-conscious about things you had never cared for before. Your hair, your outfit choices – would they draw the same reaction he always gave you? That slow, shameless gaze, eyes dark with attraction, followed by a compliment so sweet it almost rivaled the warmth in his own deep, espresso-colored stare.

He had you questioning if you fit into the mold of what he might want, never realizing that, to him, you as you were had always been enough.

At home, staring at the empty page of the research paper you were supposed to be working on, your mind was nowhere near academic focus. It was filled with the longing to have him close. No ulterior motives, no underlying intentions, just his presence. Just him. The warmth of his scent in the air, grounding you, centering you.

A thought lingered in the back of your mind. Was it too much to wish you were already living together? Or at least close enough to have him around all the time? You could picture it so clearly: the faint smell of soap clinging to the air as he walked into your office, setting a fresh cup of coffee on your desk, dressed in cozy, oversized clothes, his usual soft expression in place, trying to coax you to bed with him using those beautiful bambi-eyes.

Fuck.

Your fingers curled around your phone instinctively, his contact already pulled up before you even processed the action. But just as quickly, you let out a sharp breath and placed it back down, screen-side down on the desk. Running your hands over your temples, you exhaled, forcing yourself to focus back on the laptop in front of you.

In terms of relationships, balance had never been your strong suit if you tried to be honest; not knowing when to shut out emotions and focus solely on work because of affectual interests, or when to let yourself indulge in personal desires – especially now, when Heeseung had completely messed with your ability to separate the two.

Because everything with him felt inevitable. The meetings, the glances, the desire. And whatever this was, this unnamed thing between you, it was starting to feel dangerously close to building a place to settle that thing called love.

On a side note, there was this ongoing feeling of going too fast, of overdoing. The kiss was alright in terms of period, but the sex only two days later? Wasn’t it too… exaggerated? Did it really please him?

You were always so sure of yourself, yet, with Heeseung, you were walking a tightrope, afraid of losing him or losing yourself in the process. Sex with him had only intensified things, your mind spinning amidst a dense cloud of thoughts. Whatever fragile restraints had been holding you back from falling completely had snapped, like some unseen force was screaming at you to open your eyes.

He was exactly what you wanted.

But what if it all fell apart? What if he didn’t want anything serious? The doubts tried to creep in, but the image of his charming smile fought to erase them. Heeseung.

The man who carried a quiet, bashful aura but sometimes put on a confident front, only to fumble shortly after, making you laugh at how effortlessly endearing he was.

The man who hesitated to touch you but, when he did, held you with certainty, with possession, as if having you close was the only thing he was ever sure of.

The man who memorized your coffee order and would show up in the morning with a steaming cup, shrugging casually as he muttered, “The morning coffee here kinda sucks. A pretty girl once taught me that. So, I got you a real one.”

The man who read you so easily, as if every little part of you was worth memorizing.

“Damn,” you muttered under your breath, the sound of your own voice startling you in the silence that had settled over the past few hours – save for the rustling leaves outside and the mess inside your mind.

You bit down on your lower lip, your chest tightening with a feeling you could only name as longing. There was no other explanation. You missed Heeseung.

After days of sneaking moments together before classes, and barely having time to exchange messages in between, Heeseung had become part of your routine, fitting like a moon pulling the tide just right, a slow dance of heartbeats syncing. And you wanted him to stay in it.

But then came the tide of uncertainties. Would he slip away just as quickly as he had settled in? Were you moving too fast? Would it hurt to dive headfirst into something so intense? Yet, Heeseung wasn’t shallow waters, you wouldn’t hit rock bottom if you chose to dive into the depth of him.

Still, amidst the inner turmoil, the voice of reason, one that years of therapy had helped you shape, resurfaced: you wouldn’t know unless you asked. If he wasn’t truthful, that was on him, but all you could do was trust the words he chose to give you.

And Heeseung had never given you a reason to doubt him. There was no air of deception in his presence, no undertone of dishonesty in his words. His gaze held sincerity, his smile radiated warmth. He seemed genuine in everything he did, in every subtle move, in every interaction. In the way his lips ghosted over yours, the way he pulled you close, the way he let you take the lead more often than not.

He was just… too good.

You barely noticed your fingers sliding across your phone screen until you found his contact, dialing before you could second-guess yourself. No warning, no message, just your voice reaching out to him in the thick of the night, unfiltered, unguarded.

With each ring, your heart pounded harder, matching the steady rhythm of it. And when Heeseung finally answered, his voice rough with sleep yet laced with that familiar tenderness he always carried when it came to you, your breath hitched. No explanations, no preamble. Without thinking, without even registering how late it was or that you had probably woken him, you asked.

“Do you think we're going too fast?”

On the other end of the line, Heeseung, who had just settled into the comfort of his bed after reviewing his lessons for the next day, immediately sat up to give you his full attention. Instead of probing further, he picked up on the underlying worry in your voice, the slight hint of anxiety, and chose his words carefully.

“No, I don’t think we are. Honestly, we’re just right, babe,” he said, with a double meaning carefully embedded not just to respond to your question but to remove any lingering doubts. His voice, as soft as ever, was clear when he added, “What made you think we’re moving too fast, love?”

Love.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry.” You muttered under your breath, unable to suppress the immediate reaction that his endearment caused. Another one added to the collection, this one carrying a different weight – one that sank deep in your stomach, settling in your chest in a surreal... but strangely comforting way.

Unbeknownst to you, Heeseung found himself caught in a whirlwind of emotions; a tremor of apprehension coursing through his veins, yet warmth blooming in his chest, right where his heart pounded just a little too fast, a little too hard. He couldn’t deny the pet name had rolled off his tongue without forethought, slipping past his lips as naturally as a heartbeat.

He waited in the silence, not just because he feared he had messed up, but because he genuinely wanted you to clarify the reason behind your sudden call and the unexpected question. He respected your need to reflect before responding.

But the silence... It was growing deafening.

“I– I don’t know what’ve gotten to me, actually,” you finally confessed, leaning back in your chair with a sigh. Your brow furrowed as you tried to make sense of your own words before they left your mouth. “I think it’s just a fear of losing what we have, mixed with a hesitation to dive into something that’s giving me some uncertainty.”

Now it was Heeseung’s turn to let silence speak for him. Uncertainty? Was that what he was making you feel? Unsure? The thought alone sent a heavy weight crashing down on his chest, his stomach dropping as a chill spread through his body, seeping into his bones like ice water. His throat tightened, the unspoken question lodged there, thick and heavy, pressing against his vocal cords until he finally forced it out.

“Am I giving you uncertainty, Y/N?”

The change in Heeseung’s voice, from soft to serious, was evident and sent an instant wave of panic through you.

“No!” You responded urgently, your voice rising a few notes, and you automatically straightened up in your chair as though it would help to elucidate what you meant. “No, not you. Not at all. Quite the opposite. I trust everything you do and show me through your actions and words. I trust what you say. I trust how you feel. I trust you.”

“It’s good to know,” he replied, his voice softer again, “because I trust you too. In every way.”

There was a thin, delicate line between the weight of his words, a line that stretched from your physical connection previously explored to the deeper trust you were building together. You both were learning how to create a comfortable space for one another, even though it sometimes came with its own set of challenges and discomfort.

Another moment of silence stretched out between you two as though the air itself had become weighed down by invisible clouds of tension. It was like a storm had suddenly rolled in, filling the room with a suffocating pressure that made it difficult to breathe; your lungs felt tight, struggling to maintain a normal rhythm.

But Heeseung… Heeseung was the one who read you once again. It was as if he could read every chapter of your life with a quiet understanding, his fingers tracing each line of your story with such ease. It wasn’t about knowing what came next or predicting the end, it was about savoring the journey, knowing that each new chapter would only lead him to admire you more and want you just as much.

Breaking the silence, his voice was gentle when he said. “I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming in a few.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, your shoulders shifting slightly as you did so, “Yeah. There is.”

Heeseung had fully reclined against the headboard of his bed by now, his legs stretched out and subtly fidgeting with a subtle, almost sweet kind of nervousness – the kind that felt eerily, yet delightfully similar to having a crush.

Heeseung flushed easily whenever you looked at him for too long, and quickly averted his gaze when you crossed paths in the hall, afraid that his emotions might spill over and give him away. His ears would go red every time you complimented him, and the memories of the night you two shared would replay in his mind over and over again, stirring sensations that were both tender and a little... impolite.

And to top it all off, wrapping it up together, it was impossible for him to hide the way his heart raced at just the thought of seeing you, let alone touching you, kissing you, or being in more intimate, vulnerable spaces with you – not only sexually but in terms of personal experiences, too.

Exploring different aspects of life with you sounded exciting, he could feel his pulse quickening with some kind of thrill he couldn’t remember experiencing before. Right now, however, the throbbing beats of his heart signaled dread, pointing out that he wasn’t just excited to continue on that path with you, but he feared losing the possibility to do so.

“I trust you, Hee.” Simply to be certain, you repeated yourself. “But I can’t lie that this scares me to some extent,” Heeseung hummed in agreement for you to keep talking. You bit your lip, suddenly feeling shy. “I don’t think I ever cared this much about how things were going, y’know? I never cared if I should wear a color that someone thinks looks pretty on me. Or that I should act some way… Or even if I– if I had sex before actually dating someone. I don’t have a problem with that.”

On the other side, Heeseung blushed. It was the actual first time that “dating” was brought into a conversation between you two and although it was the natural course of relationships, he never thought about having to ask you to be his girlfriend.

It wasn’t because he didn’t want to, but because he thought it was more than obvious that he was with you and only you. Hearing those words, though, shed light on his thoughts, and he made a mental note to plan something special and ask you to be his girlfriend.

Heeseung was willing to listen to every little concern you had and to offer you the security you needed. And if that meant simply asking you to be his, then he would do so with all the joy in the world.

“And then you call me love.”

There it was, the root of the issue. Heeseung sighed softly, but it wasn’t a sigh of exhaustion from what you were saying, it was more of a realization, a moment where everything clicked and he finally understood what had been causing all these thoughts to swirl around.

“Y/N,” he said gently, your name flowing from his lips like honey. You hummed in response. “First of all, I’m sorry for not clarifying my intentions better. I don’t think we’re moving too fast. In fact, I really like our dynamic and how we seem to make things work between us.”

Hearing his side of things, without having to imagine terrible monsters in your head, was freeing. You finally understood what set Heeseung apart from the others: he made a point to communicate and, most importantly, to listen to you.

“And... I called you ‘love’ not because I love you. Not yet.” Instead of the weight of heartache and unrelenting tension, you... relaxed. There was no pressure for any rush. “I called you love because I think it’s a cute nickname, and I do want to love you, Y/N. Eventually.” He paused, his voice thick with sincerity. “I think love is something that’s built, crafted little by little, by both sides. I don’t say it if I don’t mean it.”

A smile spread across your face, warmth blooming in your chest. “I want to love you too, Hee.”

“So let’s take this at our pace. How does that sound?” He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, as though his thoughts had passed the barrier of caution and were now spilling out freely. “I want to kiss you every morning before work because I like you. But you don’t have to feel pressured to like me back.”

“I do like you, though,” you murmured quietly, almost like it was a secret.

Heeseung chuckled softly, a low, subtle sound that perfectly matched the soothing atmosphere that had settled around you both. “I’m thankful then.”

A gentle silence fell over the moment, your heart racing, but not from anxiety. It was because, for the first time, you felt like you had found someone truly important, someone special and irreplaceable, who seemed willing to build something real with you.

If Heeseung read you like his favorite book, you wanted to create an incredible story with him. And with that thought, you asked, under the moonlight that spilled through your curtains.

“Let’s start our chapter one. Shall we?”

“I love kissing you, oh my God,” Heeseung whispered against your mouth, words muffed as you pressed your bodies together.

With only a few minutes left before the lecture you both were set to deliver, a sudden wave of nervousness crashed over you, hitting deep as the realization settled: soon, you would be sharing the stage to talk about an extremely important topic with the very man who had starred in your most sinful dreams. Dreams that, over the past few weeks, had shifted from mere fantasy into breathtaking reality.

It was a relatively large lecture in terms of audience size, and while it was the kind of event you genuinely enjoyed with a dynamic exchange of ideas between the speakers, with the audience observing the unfolding of thoughts, you had been assigned as the main host.

Heeseung, still new to this environment, was positioned as the co-host, with you acting as his guide, leading the discussion and stepping in if needed.

Not once did you doubt Heeseung’s abilities. Over the past few days, both of you had dedicated intense yet careful effort to reviewing every key point, ensuring that nothing was left unpolished. That was when you noticed just how similar he was to you. He preferred to structure his speech around key topics, allowing the conversation to flow naturally, trusting in his knowledge rather than rigidly following a script.

And, God, was he hot when he read through his notes with furrowed eyebrows in deep concentration, glasses perched perfectly on his round, yet pointy nose, those dark eyes scanning the words with precise focus. It was unfair, really, how effortlessly attractive he looked while working.

Furthermore, Heeseung showed signs of apprehension as well during the minutes before starting it; added with how delectable he looked in that dress shirt and gold-framed glasses and to kill two birds with one stone, you lured the said man into following you to a nearby bathroom, using the excuse of needing his help to grab some materials you forgot in another class.

In reality, your plan was to grab his collar and pull him into the confined space to share some kisses. And of course, the kisses were leading to something way more far than you expected.

Heeseung had discovered that kissing you was his favorite sport, and even as his lungs burned and begged for relief, he would rather lose himself in your lips than pull away. Dying in your arms because he couldn’t bear to let you go sounded both poetic and achingly genuine.

Then, there was almost a shift, as though a switch clicked, and the kiss would grow deeper and more wanting. It remained slow, perfectly slow and affectionate, but carried an undeniable neediness. Hands once resting respectfully on waists and necks would begin to wander, indulging in the freedom to explore lustful territories, and Heeseung’s body would start to betray him, throbbing in anticipation.

That one kiss, however, was escalating quickly into a frantic rhythm, heading towards a heated and intense atmosphere far too inappropriate for a workplace. But, on your part, you seemed to care little, feeling a burning need for him like never before.

It was an odd sensation, this overwhelming desire to have Heeseung inside you in the most sinful way possible. The kiss, which had started as a means to calm your nerves, quickly morphed into a chaotic tangle of hands ruffling clothes and hair, desperately grabbing at any inch of covered and exposed skin as a way to relieve the growing arousal between you two. Breaths intertwined in a fiery rhythm, each exhale more desperate than the last.

“Fuck,” you moaned against Heeseung’s lips as his large hands gripped your ass, squeezing with an urgency that made your head spin and your breath to hitch.

Your beautiful noise triggered an electric pulse that shot straight to Heeseung’s arousal state, causing his dick to become increasingly stiff, the fabric around it starting to feel suffocating. He pushed you back against the sink’s counter, lifting you effortlessly and seating you on the edge, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

Your fingers gripped his face tightly, almost as if you were afraid of losing him, weaving into his tousled hair, feeling the soft strands that had grown just enough to become your new addiction. Heeseung’s touch was like a drug, each caress making it harder to pull away from him, as if losing yourself amidst his brown locks would somehow break the spell.

His hands roamed lower, exploring with a quiet urgency, trying to trace every inch of you without leaving actual marks; your thighs were his favorite place to lose himself and in any other given moment he would definitely be buried deep between them.

Seeking a break to allow your breaths to find a steady rhythm, Heeseung trailed his lips down your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. Yet, his movements were slightly hindered by the persistent frame of his glasses, which kept getting in the way , nudging against your skin, slipping down his nose, and frustrating his efforts to fully indulge in the moment.

Although he struggled to ignore, he made sure one of his hands remained firmly planted on the marble surface behind you, ensuring you wouldn't lose balance, while the other wandered shamelessly over your thigh, fingertips tracing the fabric of your tailored slacks with deliberate intent.

“You look so fucking good in these,” he murmured between wet, heated kisses, his lips mapping out the sensitive spot on your neck he already knew too well.

A soft, breathy chuckle escaped you as you tilted your head back, granting him full access, your own fingers getting lost amidst his hair, pulling him closer. But just as quickly as the amusement flickered across your face, it melted into an expression contorted in pleasure, body betraying you.

“I always wear these…” You managed to whisper, your voice barely audible.

Heeseung let out a low giggle against your skin, a sinful sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Exactly,” he mused, voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re always so fucking hot.”

Without even realizing it, your hips rolled forward, chasing the friction your body so desperately craved. And it was only then, as a deep heat pooled low in your stomach, that you became fully aware of just how ruined your panties already were. You were wet and needy for something, for someone. Precisely, for Heeseung.

Having his touch so close to your pulsing cunt made it difficult not to get more demanding of contact, to succumb into whatever he was willing to give you, so you guided your command.

“Help me remove it.”

Heeseung didn’t question further – he didn’t have to. Not when you had made your intentions crystal clear as your hand trailed down to unbutton your pants, fingers working decisively and quickly. Without hesitation, you reached for his hand, leading it to the waistband of your pants and urging him to tug them down, silently inviting him to take things beyond mere kisses.

The air was thicker than ever when Heeseung halted his kisses on your neck and saw your bare thighs as well as a glimpse of the wet spot in your panties, swallowing the lump formed in his throat. His body reacted immediately, the sight setting every nerve on fire and making it impossible to focus on anything else other than your pussy.

His lips fell ajar, whispering ragged breaths that rawly exposed his desire; the clenched jaw also was an indicator he was getting just as needy, and his cock growing heavier and harder inside his underwear was barely containable.

“I want your fingers,” within a murmur, you revealed what you wanted once realization hit you about Heeseung. He was about to get on his knees in order to be at the height of your pulsing core, his eyes locked with it as if he was in trance, but you didn’t have time to enjoy a proper head.

Besides, that part of his body was definitely one of your biggest weaknesses.

Heeseung looked at you with that mesmerizing gaze, filled with a type of confusion and innocence that you only met in them, where somehow it molded a perfect fuckable expression that gnawed at your necessity of ruining it.

Then, you pulled the hand resting in your thigh to guide it towards your mouth, where you gently wrapped your lips around his middle and ring finger, enveloping them into the warmthness of your humid interior; your tongue danced between them as you deliberately sucked, not once breaking eye contact.

Heeseung’s breath struggled to keep a pace, his eyes charmed by the alluring view you were giving – and for free. He was focused, as if you were spilling all the important information in the world to him; instead, you were making his dick twitch, since the feeling of your wet muscle brushing against his skin were sending straightforward messages to his sensitive and neglected area. He had to hold back a pathetic whimper threatening to escape.

With a smirk, you released Heeseung’s fingers slightly covered in your saliva, a string of the fluid connecting both areas, but held them close to your lips, grazing over it.

When you next talked, it tickled both skins. “I want them,” and, slowly but surely, you directed his hand downwards, Heeseung intense stare following until you stopped on your pussy, where, with your other hand, you pushed your underwear to the side. “Here.”

It was amusing and funny to perceive the way Heeseung’s breath hitched in his throat before he let out a sharp gasp, his gaze locking onto yours in search of an answer beyond the obvious, like he was utterly stunned with your request.

“Right now?” He asked, his voice airy, every ounce of disbelief laid bare as well as the typical hint of innocence and confusion. Heeseung was so fucking adorable. Having his big bambi eyes decorated by those gold-framed glasses was a sinful image.

Yet, his reaction stood in contrast to his actions; he was already closing the small space between you, his fingers, the very ones you had guided there, now teasing against your pulsing, needy pussy.

“Yes, baby,” you nodded, a taunting sultry grin tugging at the corner of your lips. “Right now.”

Heeseung watched in awe and with his heartbeats accelerated how confident on your demand you were by forcing his fingers inside before releasing your grip, leaving your wetness in full display to his digits to play with; you had flattened your palms on the counter beneath you, searching for support and to grant easier access.

“Fuck,” he whispered, feeling the unmistakable throb of his dick inside his underwear.

Randomly, a flicker of moral consciousness urged Heeseung to glance towards the locked bathroom door, as if someone might materialize out of thin air and catch the two of you in an undeniably compromising position.

This wasn’t him. He had always been the ideal student and eventually the dedicated professional, the man who prided himself on focus and discipline… But how the hell was he supposed to resist you?

The restroom you had chosen was one reserved for faculty – small but comfortable, designed for privacy, with only a single stall and sink. More than enough space to accommodate two professors caught in the heat of their desires.

Unlike Heeseung, you weren’t oblivious to the whispered stories of other faculty members using the same space for similar purposes, and that knowledge alone reassured you that the risk of getting caught was low.

But Heeseung’s sudden hesitation became palpable when he turned to look at you, one of his fingers still slowly burying itself inside you, yet his expression now laced with uncertainty, concern evident in the subtle furrow of his brows.

“Relax, baby,” you murmured, voice tinged with quiet reassurance as you rolled your hips forward, urging him deeper. Your half-lidded eyes locked onto his, inviting, unwavering. Heeseung winced. “I need you, hm?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. His breath faltered. And as if your words had snapped the last thread of restraint holding him back, his hesitation melted away, replaced by something darker, more desperate.

So Heeseung positioned himself into a comfortable position where his face was hidden in the crook of your neck, smelling the perfect mix of your perfume and natural scent while taking advantage to kiss you there. One arm held your waist and steaded your body while his other hand busied itself to please you.

Although it had started with one digit to stretch you out before adding the second one, you had to bite your lower lip in order to suppress the noises threatening to escape, since Heeseung easily found your sensitive spot from the very beginning and made sure to hit it with precision within each pound. And because of that, the strange intrusion quickly turned into a delightful wave of arousal flushing through your interior, your muffled whines growing louder.

Hearing your suppressed moans, however, was shattering Heeseung’s self-control, making it exponentially harder to contain the urge to get some relief himself. So almost unconsciously, yet deliberately, his hips started to move back and forth, brushing the painful boner on the edge of the counter.

“Fuck,” you mewled, hands flying to hold on Heeseung’s shoulders, intending to somehow anchor your spinning head and lost thoughts, but everything felt overwhelmingly good and you became pathetically desperate to have your orgasm. “Love your fingers, baby.”

The praise was more than honest, because Heeseung did, in fact, an amazing job inside you; flickering his fingers with mastery to curl at the very moment you needed them to, now speeding up the pace of his movements, wrists nearly burning from the exercise – and fortunately, he had no intention of stopping anytime soon. Not without your juices coating his digits.

You almost failed to catch the act of his hips rocking into anything that could give him some friction and consequently some kind of satisfaction. You even briefly wondered if your ears were deceiving you when soft moans grazed the skin of your neck, but Heeseung quickly confirmed your doubts not long after.

“I'm so hard,” he whined breathy in your neck, the pace on his fingers never faltering although his entire body shuddered within each soft thrust into the counter.

From your lips, a cascade of curses blended with soft moans dripped, bouncing on the stillness of the walls surrounding you two, now more than never caring a little to nothing about getting caught; you, yourself, already extremely lost into pleasure the two digits fucking your pulsing cunt were providing.

The position allowed his palm to glide across your bundle of nerves, ever so slightly giving the contact to drive you insane, you could feel your climax approaching. Your hands clutched the fabric of his blazer and you moaned.

“So fucking good–”

“Will you cum for me, yeah?” Heeseung urged desperately, consciously wishing to finish you fast enough so you could help him out before heading back; even when he was somehow in control, he sounded completely surrendered to you, as if you owned each unique piece of his soul.

“Yes, yes, yes! I fucking will, oh my God,” your eyes rolled back and your whole body trembled, your muscles tensing the moment the coil in your core snapped.

Heeseung didn’t stop a second, fucking you through your high as your liquid drenched your long gone panties, stirring wet lewd sounds from the in and out. Your body jolted, nearly convulsing as Heeseung’s name fell past your lips amidst sobs; you noticed the mildly drying tears at the corner of your eyes as the world around you crumbled briefly into a blur.

“So pretty,” Heeseung murmured with his raspy tone against your cheek, kindly kissing the area as his fingers gradually slowed, eventually coming to a halt.

At the back of his mind, though, there was a faint reminder about the lecture waiting for both of you, so the time was running short – and he had a big problem to solve before going back.

You felt languid, too relaxed. Maybe you had overdone it with the dose of Heeseung that had seeped into your system, leaving your body in a state of calm you hadn't expected, but you didn’t regret it for a second.

Now you would have to hope you had an extra pair of underwear tucked somewhere in your bag and pray for a little jolt to snap you back into reality, to remind you that your soul hadn’t been completely drained by Heeseung’s skilled fingers.

Speaking of which, Heeseung was dotting your neck and face with gentle kisses, patiently waiting for you to regain some semblance of consciousness, to come back down from wherever you had just floated off to. The sound of a notification on your phone, however, was enough to drag you back immediately.

You startled, almost leaping off the counter in a frantic search for your phone, your hands fumbling until they finally brushed against it behind you. Your heart raced so loudly you swore it might burst from your chest.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath as you read the message from the principal calling you backstage.

Meanwhile, Heeseung continued his affectionate attack on your neck, like a needy little kitten, completely unaware of the devious plan that had just been planted in your head; he was hard, and now, you were certain you wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it. A wicked, almost mischievous smile tugged at your lips as you typed a quick reply.

“Hee,” you said, pushing him gently away from you by his chest. But he wasn’t ready to let go. “Hee, listen to me. I have to go.”

“Huh?” He leaned back only to look at you, his large eyes brimming with desperation, though now confusion started to creep in.

“Yeah,” you showed him the message, watching how his gaze flicked rapidly over the words. You couldn’t help but notice – and enjoy – the way his expression shifted: first, confusion, then realization that you weren’t about to stay and finish what he so desperately wanted, and, to close it all, a flawless culmination of his state, expressing a combination of both desperation and frustration in equal measure.

His lips were swollen and slightly parted, he was just as breathless as you and it was an amusing vision, because you didn't even do anything to leave him like that. Your noises and reactions, and the feeling of your clenching pussy around his thick fingers were more than enough, apparently; being aware of that fact made a warm, comforting sensation rise in your chest, almost as if your self-confidence depended solely on it at that moment. It inflated your ego in the bestest way.

Before jumping out of the counter, you settled his messy, disheveled strands caused by your early fidgety hands.

“But what about... Me?” He finally asked with puckered lips, pleading eyes and a soft, nearly helpless expression. You almost folded. Almost.

With a final touch by adjusting his blazer, smoothing out any wrinkles that would give away your small adventure, you smiled.

“Behave.”

Heeseung watched in pure astonishment as you removed your panties completely, folding it into a small ball and throwing it into the trash. Then, you cleaned yourself quickly, washing your hands, acting as if nothing had happened.

His body refused to move due to his dumbfounded state. You weren’t that devil, were you?

Turning on your heels with the biggest smile ever, you searched for his lips to give it a small peck, “Behave and I'll reward you later,” and just like that, you patted his head and winked.

“But–”

“Be a good boy, Heeseung,” you instantly cut any possibility of disagreement, holding his face in place to keep eye contact. “Can you do that for me?”

Unseen by you, his dick twitched inside his slacks. He gulped down the urge to lock you into that bathroom and fuck your mouth, because the idea of having his body used by you later was far better.

“Yes.”

Though you had grinned at his whispered answer, your squinted your eyes gave away you were waiting for something more. Heeseung felt blood rushing towards his face, his cheeks with a faint blush, burning, as his gaze flickered away when he replied properly.

“Yes, I can be your good boy.”

You had never been the type to break promises. Not even the smallest, most trivial ones, and especially not the ones left unspoken. If you promised something – whether directly or not – you would follow through, no matter what.

And what cost was there in giving pleasure to your current… boyfriend?

It all happened so quickly. You and Heeseung delivered the presentation and it went flawlessly; the thunderous applause that filled the room was a clear answer to any lingering doubts in the air.

He did well, despite the painful erection he had been fighting with moments leading up to the presentation – thankfully, thinking of repulsive things had helped him relax and soften his shaft, otherwise, the embarrassment of standing there, hard in front of a room full of students, would’ve been irreparable.

Especially after you made sure to point out, indirectly, that you hadn’t found any spare underwear in your bag or car, suggesting, well, that Heeseung’s prize was tantalizingly close.

Every second you spent together during that presentation, Heeseung had to fight the fire of desire building low in his stomach, praying his loose pants wouldn’t betray him with the growing evidence of his arousal.

Then, you both left, your only task for the day completed, which led to Heeseung arriving at your bed much earlier than expected. The need to have you was much stronger than the plan to go out and celebrate the success of the presentation. He didn’t want to celebrate with food or drinks; he wanted to devour you.

And so, kissing you feverishly from the elevator to your room, he asked you to be his girlfriend.

“Will you be my girlfriend? Please?”

It was a rushed, spontaneous request, made amidst a kiss just as frantic and intense. It made you stop for a brief moment, shocked, your breath ragged and your eyes wide with more emotion than words could capture.

Apparently, all it took to win him over was edging him. And, well, of fucking course you said yes.

So now you had your lips wrapped around Heeseung’s dick as if they were made to be there, tailor-made to envelop him with mastery and desire, the same desire that compelled you to bob your head up and down slowly, lingering deliberately and with intent on the head.

The tip of your tongue played with its slit, the sensitivity of the area stirring a guttural moan from Heeseung who couldn’t hold longer in the silence; he barely noticed he was holding his breath so far, releasing it among a shaked trail of pleas for you not to stop.

“You feel so good,” he breathed, rolling his eyes when your throat met his tip, at the same time your nose made contact with his pelvis. He winced and stuttered a curse, hands clutching the already messy sheets beneath. “F–Fuck…”

The most thrilling part was that Heeseung had no idea that this wasn’t even the prize he had earned for his good behavior. Of course, what could possibly be a better reward for hours of unintentional edging? Well…

Hidden beneath your dedication to giving a truly memorable head was the curve of a wicked smile, one that concealed every sinful, far-from-innocent thought that had spun through your mind all day.

If two hours of self-restraint had been torture for Heeseung, then for you, the real challenge had been thinking of anything other than the countless ways you could unravel him, the infinite methods you could use to push him past the edge of sanity. Fuck… Just the thought of it had your heart racing and your stomach twisting in excitement, not to mention the throb in your bare cunt – you got rid of both your clothes the moment you crossed the room’s door.

In a way, you were grateful that Heeseung was struggling to keep his eyes open, avoiding your gaze altogether, because if he dared to look he would see right through you. He would catch the teasing glint in your eyes, the sheer amusement at how effortlessly you had him at your mercy and the uncountable devious ideas crossing your head.

But then, there was a moment, a fleeting second when he was reckless enough to glance down at you. Little did he know you had been watching him the entire time, your focus never once wavering since your lips wrapped around his leaking length. You were drinking in every micro-expression, every twitch of his muscles, every tremor in his breath, the way his brows knitted together as pleasure consumed him.

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that…” He groaned, voice strained.

The position had changed a few seconds ago, now with a hand gripping tightly the base of his shaft and massaging the part your mouth couldn’t take, as you focused solely on his sensitive head. The other hand rested dangerously close to his balls.

With a wet pop, you let him slip from your mouth just long enough to speak, your fingers never pausing as they jerked him off. “Or else…?” You trailed off, the mischief in your voice unmistakable.

His eyes flickered with hesitation, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. He had no “or else” to offer. He wouldn’t do anything. He would take whatever you gave him without question, without resistance.

There were no agreed-upon punishments, no threats looming over him. But after what you had done to him in the bathroom earlier, he already knew just how far you were willing to push him, how cruelly you could toy with him if you wanted to – and, damn, he would be down to anything if it involved you.

He swallowed thickly, voice faltering as your fingers cupped around his tip, your wrist twisting in slow, deliberate circular motions.

“O–or else nothing, b–baby,” he stammered, his body trembling under your touch. His breath started to rag with a certain constancy, pitch climbing higher as his resolve shattered completely. “N–Nothing at all. I’m all yours, right? Do whatever you wan–” He had to stop himself, since you thought it would be the right time to toy with his balls. The rough moan echoed through your interior like a visceral energy straight to your pussy, stirring it to clench, your arousal growing. “Fuck!”

It was such a beautiful view; Heeseung threw his head back and clutched his eyes close, back arching involuntarily within a sudden jolt, and his legs, once softly idling on the bed, now squirmed as you didn’t stop, never once, none of your movements, silently pressing the orgasm you knew it was close.

Your piercing gaze zeroed on his trembling form, the way his lips fell open and how his Adam’s apple bobbed with the failed attempts to gulp his saliva; you could see it trailing down from the corner of his lips, his tongue struggling to gather it back on his mouth.

“So beautiful, Hee,” you whispered loud enough to make yourself heard, basking in the sight of Heeseung slowly falling apart.

And that was the last thing you said before taking his dick in your mouth again, deepthroating instantly and provocatively making swallowing motions, which pressed the very tip and elicited another guttural-high pitched whimper, sounds you had never heard coming from him before.

Heeseung was seeing stars, for sure. His eyes could barely stay open, yet they still rolled back as everything you were doing drove him absolutely wild. It wasn't just sensitivity or neediness; you were touching him in such a specific way that left no room for anything else, no space for coherent thoughts or self-control.

He could feel his body slowly unraveling, but not in a painful way. It was strange, like all his energy was being funneled entirely into the place where your mouth was consuming him. The rhythm of your tongue around him was hypnotic, but every time he tried to focus on how incredible it felt to have you taking him in, your hand playing with his balls distracted him completely. He had no idea what to do, how to react, or what the hell was going on in his mind anymore.

Only a few seconds into it and his entire body shuddered, his warning filling the room nearly at the same time as the warm stream cascaded down your throat, “Fuck, fuck, fuck. ‘M cumming…”

You swallowed Heeseung’s release as if you were parched, drinking it down like water, which accidentally overstimulated his spent cock through his high. Not a single drop escaped your hungry lips, cleaning him almost completely before you detached your mouth from it.

Heeseung trembled beneath your touch, the aftershocks rippling through his body in such a ridiculously captivating way that you could have admired it for hours without tiring. His lightly bronzed chest was now flushed in a lovely shade of red, coated in sweat from the heat of desire that had enveloped the room. In that moment, your gaze shifted to your next... target. The owner of it being entirely unaware of the mischief brewing in your mind.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you took a moment to steady your breath before continuing with your plan. You shifted up just enough to reach Heeseung’s swollen lips, his face still contorted in a look that could only be described as pleasure, but relaxed, as if he were sinking into the sensation.

His chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, his body still quivering as your fingertips traced the outlines of his collarbones, studying him with the kind of admiration you reserved for someone who didn’t know what he had just experienced.

“Hey,” you called softly, caressing his cheek tenderly as though you wanted to make sure he was okay.

Heeseung fluttered his eyes open, the tiredness of them exposing how affected he was. You wavered about continuing with your ideas, but with the smirk he showed you and the way his gaze flickered lazily to your lips as if asking for you to continue it was the green light you needed.

So you captured his lips with yours, starting a kiss that was both passionate and affectionate. It was, somehow, an aftercare; one you would give even not having the need to. And Heeseung was more than receptive to kiss you.

It was oddly addictive, the mingled taste of you and himself, the bittersweetness melting across his tongue, igniting each particle of his body to move along with you. One hand slid instinctively to the back of your head, his fingers carefully threading through your hair as he held you in place, gently yet firmly pulling you closer.

Heeseung quivered when your fingertips started to move innocently down, not paying enough attention to it, until they touched his, now, softening shaft.

He tried to break the kiss to complain, to alert that he was still sensitive from the previous orgasm and you would have to wait a few more seconds, maybe minutes, so he could get hard again; he definitely wouldn’t mind another round. But you only moved further, pressing yourself into his lips, shutting any possibility of him letting you know he was slightly in pain.

“Y/N–”

“Shh,” a shush was enough to leave him speechless, especially because your hand kept its exploration, now settling into a languish pace of moving up and down along his length.

“S–Stop…” Heeseung, once again, tried to part the kiss to plead. This time, you leaned back only enough to search for his eyes. They were wide in alarm.

“Do you want me to stop, baby?”

Your voice had taken on a specific rasp, clearly affected by the pressure you had previously exerted on your throat. But that was worse for Heeseung’s state, because you still shaped it to sound sultry, almost seductive. It was pathetic how he responded to your every stimulus, in all its varying intensities and nuances.

“It’s burning,” he whispered softly, not wanting to disappoint you in any way. You had already tried overstimulation before, so this was a sensation and dialogue he was familiar with.

You cooed, “Yeah? Is it?” Your tone, feigned concern, was completely overshadowed by the mocking edge beneath it. It was almost comical, but Heeseung loved it.

And then, a soft moan escaped him. He was getting hard again, which only spurred your hand to move faster, causing him to hiss.

“Uhm…”

The last time you had tried this, he had done exactly what he had just done: his hand had moved to grasp your wrist, but he didn’t exert any force to pull it away. It seemed more like a desperate attempt to hold on to something, almost as if he were clinging to his sanity.

The naughty grin that curled your lips only revealed how much you were enjoying watching him like this, eyes blinking rapidly, unsure whether to stay focused on the slight sting of discomfort, or to surrender to the imminent pleasure.

“But that wasn’t my question, was it?”

“N-No,” he shook his head, his voice shaky. “It wasn’t.”

You gave him a moment to respond, almost considering asking again just for the sake of it, but it seemed much more satisfying to use his lack of a correct answer as a small “punishment”, so your lips trailed down, leaving a path of warmth and chills through your way until they encircled Heeseung’s nipple, but not giving the entire touch; it was just a test of waters, just to drag out any reaction aiming to guide your following decisions, as you peppered soft kisses near the area and read his body response.

Heeseung’s breath hitched with the proximity of your mouth to his sensitive buds, his eyes fluttering shut and a small frown pressing his forehead to contort. Yet, his silence was heavy.

You raised your gaze ever so slightly to catch a glimpse, a smile tugging at your lips as you realized he might be into it, though he seemed to be trying to hide his blatant reactions; your hand on his cock now slowing to an almost full stop.

With that, you decided to wrap your lips around his nipple again, this time shortening the distance to flicker your tongue a few times right on the hardened tip, and the answer was immediate and modestly unexpected.

“Oh, shit!” Heeseung nearly screamed, body jolting abruptly as a sharp spasm overtook his nerves. The coil in his stomach tightened, twisting further with each passing second you continued to play with your tongue.

Now absolutely certain of the pleasure you were causing, every whimper that fell from his lips was a delicious incentive for you to keep going, alternating between wet, noisy sucks and flattening your tongue to rub it along the bruised bud, your saliva coating his chest.

“Ngh, damn, fuck–” Heeseung exhaled shakily, unable to comprehend anything other than the crescent blissful thrill in his body, the temperature rising considerably due to your effort to make him go insane.

He was sure you wanted to make him go insane.

Blindly, you went back to grab his already very hard dick to give it some attention again, and the combo of everything you were doing to his body was more than enough for him to come undone in your hands.

“Babe, oh my god– Please–” He urged. “Don’t stop…” His voice was almost a broken whisper, but the pleading tone was clear, like a fragile thread that he hoped would keep him tethered to reality.

You giggled, continuing your work on his sensitive nipples, nibbling softly and then brushing your tongue to soothe any pain.

“Please…” Heeseung’s voice cracked slightly, the desperation seeping through within pathetic moans, as his fingers gripped your wrist tightly.

“Aw,” you cooed, lips curling into a devilish smirk. You kissed his nipple a few times before letting go of it. “You don’t want me to stop, sweetheart?”

“Please.”

The word fell from his lips again similar to a mantra, his entire body trembling under your touch, yearning for more but unsure if he could handle it. A small giggle escaped you. “Is that all you can say, my love? Please?”

You repositioned your body to sit on your knees by his side, one hand focused solely on jerking him off, while the other rested on his chest, until you decided to flicker your finger on one of his nipples.

“Aw, so sensitive, aren’t you?” You murmured with amusement, your voice soft yet dripping with teasing.

He was already leaking heavily, and when he started to whimper, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist that had been touching his chest, pushing it further into him, as if urging you to continue, you could feel how dangerously close he was to the edge again.

“Oh my God, oh my God…” His words came out as breathy nonsense, barely coherent, his hips instinctively grinding against you, seeking more friction. He was lost in the sensation, overwhelmed by it all.

Heeseung's chest rose and fell with a desperate pace as he fought to catch his breath, each exhale shaking. His skin was flushed, a deep, beautiful shade of red coated in a thin sheen of sweat that caught the dim light of the room, making him glow with every movement.

Amidst pleas, blended with delectable whines of your name, there was a heavy desperation underlying beneath the whole surface he was showing you.

He sounded dumb.

He teetered the edge of madness, your touches weighting tons along his spent length; the nearly purple tip was nothing but pure perfection for your eyes, painfully hard still, because behind his despair there was the actual need to be there, to please you with by offering his own pleasure, to be your good boy.

And you wanted to make sure he understood it.

“You’re such a good boy, Hee.”

And as if your words snapped the bliss away from him, only to drift strongly back with a much intense force, the fierce orgasm built for the last minutes burst out through thick ropes upwards, landing perfectly on the very end of his tummy, on the sheets and on your hand. Thinking ahead, you used some of his release to lubricate what would soon become your seat.

Heeseung was fucking breathless, not sure if he was still alive but definitely pleasured. However, before he could regain full consciousness of his body, you were already straddling over, aligning your needy pussy, aching for some relief, already dripping in arousal, to be fulfilled by his dick, though it needed some rest before anything else.

His eyes flew open as he held your hips in place, preventing you from sinking into the very sensitive extension of his cock. He would probably lift his torso as well, but he was too tired to even try, so his persuasion game was reduced to merely the plea in his gaze and the obvious tiredness of his breathing.

“I already came so much,” Heeseung murmured, his bambi-eyes glistening with tears. “I don’t think I can…” His eyes darted briefly to your pussy, and the view of it painfully asking to be filled to the brim had him tweaking.

Once again: it was pathetic how devoted for you – and your body – Heeseung was.

“Oh?” You pouted, cocking your head to the side with feigned sadness. “But I didn’t come, though?”

“Can you wait just a little?”

You carefully observed the genuine tone laced in his voice as he made his request. There was a desire to continue behind his words, but he had asked only for a brief moment of pause. You could wait for as long as it took if it meant fulfilling his wish and not pushing further his boundaries.

So you nodded, rising from your position to grab a water bottle from the nightstand. It was difficult to ignore just how wet the inside of your thighs had become or how the slightest friction on your clit only heightened your arousal.

“Here, baby,” you handed him the water bottle, watching the charming Adam's apple move with each swallow. It was definitely one of your favorite features of his. As you sat on the edge of the bed, you gently caressed his sweaty face, brushing away the strands of hair that clung to his forehead. “You did so well today.”

Heeseung wasn’t naive, he could sense the undertone of “farewell” in your voice, almost as if you were ready to end the moment without a second thought. Yet, for him, that would have been a huge problem.

You hadn't reached your climax.

Finishing the water, he silently thanked you, and before you could stand up he stopped you, cupping your hand on his face with his own.

“But I’m– I’m your good boy, right?” His wide, shining eyes blinked up at you, the innocence in them belying the desire to be praised, laid bare behind those expressive orbs.

His words left you momentarily disoriented. Honestly, you had been willing to take care of your own needs alone, and there would have been no issue with that. But Heeseung was clearly eager for more, and the sight of him rubbing his cheek against your warm palm was more than enough to reignite the spark in you.

“You are,” you nodded again, lowering yourself just enough to kiss his soft, flushed lips. “My good boy,” you whispered against them, your words carrying a promise – a silent vow of how grateful you were to have him with you. Then, you pulled back, returning to your previous position.

Heeseung watched you with both curious and excited eyes, watching how you climbed on top of him, reoccupying the earlier position just to sit directly on his sensitive length. His abs clenched with the immediate and unwarned touch, his back curving forward while his hands flew to grab your waist.

You smirked, though it showed more than just raw desire; it had, lying underneath, the very affection that warmed your chest by knowing Heeseung would be down to anything with you. He let out another groan when you started to move back and forth ever so slightly to coat your own arousal around his cock and lubricate once more.

Also, it helped to make him hard again, and it was obvious how easily sensitive he was once you felt the stiffness growing beneath you.

“There you go,” you murmured cheekily, adjusting your height only to align Heeseung’s dick in your pulsing hole, not waiting a second as you felt it filling you. It was your time to choke a moan.

Your body relaxed almost completely to welcome him inside, leaning slightly forward as the overwhelming sensation of finally being filled with friction surged through you. You were just as eager as he was, and soon enough, your movements started without hesitation.

His touch lingered in the exact spot he once held you, and you had positioned yourself on the right angle so you could feel your clit rubbing against his pelvis, only deepening, urging, your pleasure.

With Heeseung’s length dragging across your tight, sensitive walls, it was undeniable your growing desire to finally cum, and with that you searched for the right pace to please both of you. Your eyes were closed as you focused on moving your hips in a steady motion.

On the back of your thoughts, however, there were the beautiful whimpers Heeseung was letting out, as he felt the third orgasm of the day building up too quickly.

And you noticed, of course; you could feel him leaking in you. And… You couldn’t hide or prevent your teasing side to show up, so you asked, your mouth whispering moans and his name, but also having a grin that made you too lustful to look at.

“Can you give me one more, sweetheart?”

You slowed your pace deliberately, watching Heeseung’s body react. A sharp gasp left his lips, his chest heaving, but no answer followed.

“Heeseung,” you called his name again, voice soft yet commanding, hoping to anchor his mind back to you, to keep him tethered amidst the pleasure clouding his thoughts. You purposely clenched. “Can you give me one more?”

A strangled noise caught in his throat, and his hips jerked up instinctively, chasing the friction he was so desperately losing. “Nnngh, fuck!” He was a writhing mess beneath you, legs trembling, unable to stay still as he practically fucked himself into you, searching for the sensation that had him spiraling. A quiet sob echoed from his lips.

“Babe, I won’t move until you answer,” you murmured, slowing your hips until they stilled completely. “I need your words.”

“Ah–no! Please, please, don’t…” His voice broke into a whimper, his entire body shuddering with the withdrawal of pleasure.

A burning sensation coiled deep inside him, pleasure and frustration mixing into something unbearable. His hands clutched desperately at your flesh, definitely marking the extension; his lips parted as he let out a shaking breath, his body twitching for any form of relief.

“Please…” The plea left him again, raw and unfiltered, but even he wasn’t sure what exactly he was begging for. For you to move again? For you to let him fall apart? For you to ruin him?

Your gaze flickered up, catching sight of his tear-streaked cheeks. His big, round eyes fluttered between half-lidded and tightly shut, brows furrowed in pure, pathetic desperation. His lips, swollen and parted, trembled slightly, whether from the overwhelming sensation or from how hard he had been biting them, you weren’t sure.

Then, as if sensing your eyes on him, Heeseung finally looked at you. You smiled at him, something soft, something appreciative, as if silently letting him know just how much you adored seeing him like this, completely unraveling in your hands.

But you wanted something. Something simple. Something so easy. Just his words.

“Hee…” Your tone turned warning, coaxing. “Words. Need your words, yeah?”

It was like a switch flipped inside him, acknowledging you would easily stop and leave him without his release, frustrated and helpless. His breath hitched, and then his entire body jolted like a shockwave had run through him, with his eyes flying open and his back arching as a frantic urgency flooded his tone.

“Yes! Yes, fuck–yes! I can give you–” His words cut off in a choked moan as you tightened your clenching, circling your hips in slow, deliberate motion. His fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles white, thighs trembling as his brain melted into pleasure.

But then you stopped. His whine was downright pathetic.

“Another,” he rushed out, panting, the desperation laced thick in his voice. “I can. I can give you another.”

A slow smirk tugged at your lips, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as you leaned forward, already going back to roll your hips.

“Good boy, Hee.”

Due to the proximity of your mouths, you even tried to initiate a kiss, but it quickly turned messy, chaotic even, though your lips didn’t fully part. You both moaned into each other, breaths, sounds, and whispered desires blending into the creaking of the bed that shifted slightly under your relentless movements.

There was a deafening determination in the way you grinded against him, fast enough to give you pleasure and leave Heeseung completely broken.

And then, silence. At least, on his part. You tried to open your eyes to meet his, and through the blur, you caught a glimpse of his lips slightly parted, breathless, his eyes shut in the intensity of the moment.

Fully committed, you pushed yourself closer to the finish line, feeling the familiar tightness in your core signaling your impending climax. You also managed to get his dick brushing against your most sensitive spot, propelling you faster towards the edge.

Suddenly, Heeseung gasped for air and moaned loudly, filling you with his release, the pressure inside you intensifying. It was different from all the other reactions, and it would definitely stay with you.

He was gorgeous, his neck completely exposed and glistening with sweat, his body trembling as he gasped and moaned beneath you. And, finally, with one last powerful movement, you reached your own peak, your body shaking in the aftermath, clinging to him as your world spun with the intensity of it all.

Heeseung, still a little lost in the moment, hugged you back. There were no words needed to express that this had been a significant moment for both of you, a journey through uncharted paths, where you respected each other’s desires and understood your own limits, while still daring to push beyond them a little.

It felt different and fulfilling to be with someone like that, your thoughts syncing in unspoken understanding. And that simple embrace, though messy and sweaty from your shared experience, was more than enough to mark the beginning of something new.

A new chapter.

#heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #sub heeseung #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #heeseung imagines #heegyukeluv works

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theemporium · 28 days ago

Note

in exchange for you not paying for my therapy bills after your last luke and cherry chapter i would like to request a luke blurb

the morning after your first time spending the night at luke and jacks apartment. you’re not quite sure what to do so anything you do for luke you do for jack so he’s not left out. jack is like “i like this one can you keep her” while luke is like “babe your my gf jacks a big boy he can do it himself”

thank you for requesting and sorry (not sorry) for the therapy bills!🫶🏽

Despite dating for almost nine months, this had been the first time you had ever stayed overnight at Luke’s apartment.

You had been in his apartment many times throughout the duration of your relationship, but you always left for your own place at the end of the night. Or Luke would leave with you, letting his brother have some privacy since you didn’t have a roommate. It always made sense, and seemed easier too.

But the boys had just come back from a long roadie and it had been almost two weeks since you saw Luke in person because of your own busy schedule. And as excited as Luke was to see you, he didn’t have the energy in him to handle another travel journey, as short as it was.

“Just stay the night,” Luke had all but mumbled as he laid on top of you on his bed, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “We can go to your place tomorrow.”

And you didn’t have any reason to disagree with that agreement.

You just didn’t realise how out of your own element you were until you woke up the next morning. Luke was still fast asleep in his room and, considering how quiet the apartment was, you assumed Jack was too. It was stupid to feel so imposing but you couldn’t shake how weird it felt to be wandering around their place in the early hours of the day with neither awake yet.

You had decided to just follow the routine you usually followed at your place when Luke stayed over, scavenging whatever you could from their fridge and cupboards to make a decent breakfast with. Which, for two NHL players who should be eating more than the average person, was surprisingly not much, unless you wanted chicken and rice for breakfast (which no one in their right mind would want).

You were lost in your own world, focused on the sizzling pan in front of you and the music playing from your phone on the counter beside you that you didn’t hear footsteps coming down the corridor.

“We own a spatula?”

You turned, snorting when you found Jack glaring at the utensil in your hand like it had spawned out of nowhere. “I made Luke buy it when he tried to flip an egg with a fork.”

“Huh,” was all Jack managed to say. “He still asleep?”

“Out like a light,” you nodded.

“He’s gonna miss his breakfast,” Jack teased, rounding the counter so he could peek over your shoulder.

“More French toast for us then,” you shrugged.

Jack paused, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “You made me breakfast too?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Yeah?”

“Oh.”

“I mean, if you have plans for breakfast, it’s fine,” you assured him, waving him off.

“No, I—” Jack paused before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, you’re Luke’s girlfriend.”

Your confusion grew. “Yeah, and? You’re Luke’s brother. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“You didn’t need to make me breakfast,” Jack said in a tone of voice that made it seem like his reply made any more sense than the previous ones. “But you did.”

“What, you thought I would just make me and Luke breakfast and leave you to starve?” You questioned, the confusion slowly being replaced with amusement. “That would have been a dick move.”

Jack shrugged. “I would have understood.”

“Luke’s my boyfriend and you’re his brother but you’re also my friend, Jack,” you said to the boy with a soft smile. “Making extra breakfast is not the hardship you think it is.”

Jack laughed, nodding. “You’re my friend too.”

Your smile widened.

“God, that smells so good,” Luke groaned as he shuffled into the room, messy curls tucked underneath the hood of his hoodie. He paused, glancing between the two of you with narrowed eyes. “Why do you both have that creepy smile? What are you planning?”

“Confidential things,” Jack retorted, throwing his arm around your shoulder as he beamed at his younger brother. “Maybe when you’re old enough, we will tell you.”

You snorted.

Luke frowned. “Ugh, can’t you go annoy Nico to feed you.”

“Nuh uh, I was given an invite to join you both for breakfast here,” Jack said, still grinning widely. “You’re right, bro, it does smell so good.”

Luke let out a huff. “She is my girlfriend, go away and make your own breakfast.”

“And she is my future sister-in-law,” Jack retorted, cackling at the way both you and Luke flushed at his words. “We are family now! Get used to it, Rusty!”

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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pbaz7 · 29 days ago

Text

FLIGHT 2136: PART 6

paige x azzi

warning: drinking, sexual content (don’t say i didn’t warn you)

word count: 11.6k

A/N: I didn’t get much sleep so I’m beat and don’t have much to say today lol 😭. I think people will like this chapter and maybe it’ll make you leave me alone about heat check part 2 😒. Leave live reacts and comments if you can. I also want to know what you guys want to see going forward 🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

The morning after Ted’s, Paige and Azzi laid tangled together in Azzi’s bed, the room was silent besides the hum of the fan that Paige insisted they turn on after they got out of the shower. Azzi’s fingers were tracing feather-light patterns along the scar on Paige’s torso, the touch absentminded but still deliberate.

Paige’s eyes were closed, her breathing steady, and for once, she looked completely at peace. Azzi watched her for a moment, then used her other hand to brush a few stray strands of hair from Paige’s face.

“What are you thinking about?” Azzi whispered.

Paige’s lashes fluttered slightly, but she didn’t open her eyes. “Surprisingly… nothing,” she mumbled.

Azzi smiled at that, finding an odd sense of warmth in Paige’s answer. She didn't say anything back, just let her head rest back against the pillows, closing her own eyes as she continued tracing soft patterns along Paige’s scar.

A moment passed before Paige’s voice broke the silence. “That feels nice baby.”

Azzi’s eyes opened again, meeting the now familiar blue ones staring up at her. Paige was watching her now, her expression completely tender. Azzi felt her heart tug, a slow and steady ache that had nothing to do with pain.

“You’re so beautiful,” Azzi murmured as she gazed into Paige’s eyes.

Paige let out a quiet hum, a smile growing on her face. “You’re gorgeous, angel.”

Azzi exhaled a soft laugh. “You ever gonna just accept a compliment?”

Paige’s smile widened. “Can’t help but give you one back.”

Azzi’s fingers stilled for a moment before she spoke. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Paige’s blue eyes softened as she looked up at Azzi. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

Azzi let her fingers go back to tracing patterns across Paige’s torso before a smirk tugged at her lips. “You’re a little rusty on the court though.”

Paige scoffed, lifting her head off of Azzi’s stomach slightly. “Excuse me?”

Azzi laughed. “Just a tiny bit.”

Paige narrowed her eyes, propping herself up on one elbow. “C’mon, Az, you know that’s a lie.”

Azzi looked like she was about to argue, but before she could, Paige shifted, slipping from between her legs and rolling off the bed. “Nah, c’mon. Let’s go play.”

Azzi groaned dramatically, flopping back against the pillows. “Baby, please, it’s Saturday.”

Paige shook her head no as if not going wasn’t an option. “You called me rusty. I can’t let that slide.”

Azzi still didn’t move, looking way too comfortable in bed. Paige knowing how to get her up raised a brow as she said, “What, you scared I’ll prove I’m better?”

Azzi’s eyes widened, her head snapping toward Paige. “Excuse me?”

Paige smirked. “I’m better than you, Azzi.”

Azzi scoffed, sitting up. “Paige, baby… no, you aren’t.”

Paige just gave her a look with a smirk on her face. That was all it took. With a dramatic sigh, Azzi threw off the covers and got up, grabbing a pair of sweats.

Paige chuckled, shaking her head as she watched Azzi get dressed. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Azzi pulled on her hoodie. “I’ve seen you in practice this week. Yes, you’re good…great actually—but you’re not better than me.”

Paige just shrugged. “We’ll see.”

With that, the two of them headed out of Azzi’s room, making their way to the gym.

After stopping by the locker room to grab their shoes and change, Paige and Azzi stepped on the court, both in shorts and T-shirts.

Azzi had a ball tucked under her arm, spinning it once on her palm before bouncing it toward Paige. “Shoot for ball.”

Paige caught it easily, dribbling once before shooting. The ball swished cleanly through the net.

Azzi playfully rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

Paige smirked as Azzi walked toward her, meeting her at the top of the key. “First to eleven. Ones and twos.”

Azzi nodded.

Paige checked the ball, bouncing it to Azzi, who quickly returned it.

Paige jabbed left—not too hard, just enough to gauge Azzi’s reaction. Azzi shifted slightly, staying balanced, eyes locked on the ball. Paige smirked, repeating the jab, this time dragging her dribble before shifting between her legs, one quick bounce to the right.

Azzi stayed in front of her, cutting off the drive, but Paige was a slight step ahead. She created just enough space, fading back from the elbow of the, the ball rolling off her fingertips smoothly.

Swish.

Paige walked back to the top of the key, her smirk growing. “1-0.”

She checked the ball with Azzi again, who bounced it back, this time playing a little further off. Paige noticed the adjustment immediately.

Without hesitation, she pulled from the top of the key. The ball barely grazed the net as it fell through.

Paige’s smirk deepened. “3-0.”

Azzi huffed, rolling her shoulders as she locked in.

Paige checked the ball, and Azzi bounced it right back—this time stepping in closer, a soft hand resting on Paige’s hip.

Paige smirked. “Oh, we hand-checking now?”

Azzi mumbled out,“Shut up.”

Paige chuckled, trying to shift past Azzi with another move. Just as she went to explode forward, Azzi’s hand was quicker—stripping the ball.

“Damn,” Paige muttered.

Azzi cleared the ball beyond the three-point line, keeping her dribble low. She hit an in-and-out, between-the-legs, before stepping back—just enough space.

Azzi flicked her wrist perfectly.

Paige didn’t even have to turn around to know. The sound of the ball snapping through the net was enough.

Azzi smiled as she jogged forward. “3-2.”

Paige licked her lips, eyes shining with challenge as she picked up the ball.

Azzi held out her hands, nodding. “Check up.”

Paige grinned. This was going to be fun.

…

The game had stretched on for who knows how long. What started as something that was supposed to be a quick matchup had turned into a back and forth game. At some point, they agreed to win by two, causing them to blow past eleven.

Paige’s shirt had been discarded a while ago, her skin glistening in her sports bra. Azzi’s shirt clung to her in patches, damp with sweat, her toned arms slick as she wiped her face with her shirt.

Right now, Paige had the ball, Azzi locked in on her, close enough that Paige could feel her breath. Azzi was hand-checking again, her palm pressing lightly against Paige’s hip.

Paige huffed a laugh, pushing it off.

Azzi put it right back.

Paige knocked it away again, sweeping the ball low as she exploded into a right-handed dribble. Azzi followed immediately, but her defense had gotten… handsy. More than what regular defense allowed.

Not that Paige was about to complain.

She read Azzi’s movement, baiting her into thinking she’d pull up, hesitating just enough to freeze her. The second Azzi’s weight shifted, Paige was gone, blowing past her toward the rim.

Azzi recovered fast, but not fast enough.

Paige got the layup off clean, the ball rolling off her fingertips.

Breathless, she backpedaled, smirking at Azzi. “18-17.”

Azzi shook her head, laughing under her breath. “You really think you’re winning this?”

Paige just grinned. “Check up and find out.”

Just as they were about to check up again, the sound of the gym doors opening caught their attention. A few of their teammates strolled in, KK’s voice ringing out first.

“Why y’all didn’t tell us y’all were hooping?”

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head as she took the interruption as an opportunity to walk over to the sideline. She grabbed her water bottle, twisting the cap off and taking a swig. Paige followed her, still breathing a little heavy.

Azzi extended the bottle toward her without a word. Paige took it, their fingers brushing as she brought it to her lips, tilting her head back for a long sip.

“Y’all been going for a while, huh?” Ice said, nodding toward Paige’s discarded shirt and the clear sheen of sweat on both of them.

Paige wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smirking. “Just proving a point.”

KK raised a brow. “Who’s winning?”

Azzi shot Paige a sideways glance before she could answer. “We’re not done yet.”

KK laughed, shaking her head. “Well, y’all mind some company? Since you decided to sneak off this morning and not tell anybody.”

Azzi looked at Paige, wordlessly asking if she was cool with it. Paige shrugged, a small smile forming on her lips. “You sure you wanna get embarrassed, too?”

KK scoffed. “Man, check ball.”

The gym was alive with energy after that as KK, Ice, Paige, Azzi, Aubrey, and even Sarah played a game of queen of the court. They’d barely noticed how much time had passed—just caught up in the back-and-forth.

At some point, Ayanna and Jana showed up, making it a full-on team affair when they told everyone else to come, though not everyone was playing. Ayanna and Caroline were on the sidelines, watching, making sure they chime in here and there to instigate.

Paige and Azzi found themselves staying on the court for longer stretches, each one pushing the other in ways that only they could. Paige, who seemed to always have some energy stored away, was relentless, while Azzi—despite her competitive spirit—was starting to feel the weight of how long they’d been playing.

She gave one more glance at Paige, who was too focused to notice, and made the call to sit down for a bit.

She jogged over to Caroline and flopped onto the chair beside her, grabbing her water bottle and sighing in relief.

Azzi leaned back in her chair, her eyes following Paige as she moved around the court, effortlessly making shot after shot. There was something about the way Paige played that made it hard for Azzi to look away. It was just so smooth, so effortless, yet still entertaining. Her hair was in a low bun now, strands of it sticking to her forehead with the sweat glistening on her skin. Paige was completely in her element, her chain dangling over her chest with each movement, catching the light perfectly each time. The sight sent a jolt of heat through Azzi, and her mind wandered to a few things she’d rather not be thinking about in the middle of the gym.

Azzi crossed her legs, trying to shift her focus, but once she got started it was impossible. The way Paige moved, the sheer confidence and grace she exuded when she played—it was sexy in a way Azzi hadn’t figured out how to explain just yet. Her thoughts drifted back to last night when they got back from Ted’s, her body so close, the chain swinging over her face as Paige—her thoughts were interrupted by Caroline, who snapped her fingers in front of Azzi’s face a few times.

“Earth to Azzi,” Caroline said.

Azzi blinked, snapping out of her trance, her eyes meeting Caroline’s. “Hm?” she mumbled, trying to hide the flush creeping up her neck.

Caroline raised an eyebrow, her gaze following Azzi’s flicking over to Paige, who was still showing off on the court. “Checking her out again, huh?”

Azzi felt a nervous laugh bubble up, but she quickly cleared her throat. “No, I—No.”

Caroline laughed. “It’s kind of obvious, you know.”

Azzi mumbled, trying to brush it off, “No, it’s not.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Sure, whatever you say.”

She leaned back in her chair, her gaze flicking between Azzi and Paige, enjoying being able to tease her best friend. “I will say though, you’re not the only one enjoying the show,” Caroline said, her voice carrying some amusement.

Azzi’s attention snapped to Caroline, her eyebrows furrowing as she processed the words. “What do you mean?”

Caroline subtly nodded towards Q, and Azzi followed her line of sight. She saw Q, who was sitting off to the side on the floor. Her eyes were locked on Paige as she moved around the court. The intensity and intrigue in her gaze was clear as day and Azzi couldn’t help but chuckle when she saw it.

“Yeah, I noticed the other day,” Azzi replied, an amused grin forming as she looked at Q.

“So, you’re not gonna say anything?”

Azzi’s laugh that followed was lighthearted. “Nah, not really worried about that.” She said, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes.

Caroline tilted her head, watching Azzi for a moment before asking, “You think it’ll pass?”

Azzi shrugged nonchalantly, her gaze drifting back to Paige. “Haven’t really thought about it, honestly.” Any attention Azzi was paying to the conversation vanished when she looked back at Paige. Paige had just scored on Morgan, a smirk on her face as she chirped about nobody being able to guard her. Azzi couldn’t help but admire the ease with which Paige played, the way her confidence on the court seemed larger than anything in the world.

Paige caught Azzi’s eyes from on the court and smirked, a playful glint flashing in her blue eyes. Without looking away, she tossed the ball to Aubrey. “Alright, I’m done,” Paige said, walking off the court.

Some of the girls on the court playfully started celebrating, knowing they’d have more time on offense now. Paige strolled over to where Azzi was sitting, dropping down beside her with a sigh as she laid on the floor.

Azzi couldn’t help but smile, her eyes softening when she looked down at Paige. “You finally done?” she teased.

Paige groaned, letting her head rest on the floor. “Yeah, I’m tired,” she admitted, closing her eyes for a moment.

Azzi stayed quiet, simply watching Paige for a second. Paige’s skin was dripping with sweat at this point, her muscles were relaxed but still toned from playing. Azzi’s gaze wandered for a second longer, tracing the lines of Paige’s body.

Azzi smiled gently at how comfortable she looked. When Paige had first taken off her shirt in the locker room, she knew people would notice, but no one on the team had said anything. There was sort of a quiet, unspoken agreement that Paige would explain the scar if she wanted to—no pressure. Them doing that allowed Paige to feel comfortable enough to be shirtless around them, which was pretty often considering she just didn’t seem to like wearing shirts for some reason.

Azzi’s thoughts were interrupted when Paige broke the silence. “I won, by the way.”

Azzi immediately turned her head. “No, you didn’t.”

Paige smirked, throwing her arms behind her head. “It was 18-17.”

“Yeah, and it was win by two. So no, you didn’t win.”

Paige chuckled, leaning back onto the floor with her hands behind her head. “Whatever you say, Azzi.”

Just as they were about to settle into yet another back and forth, Caroline spoke up. “I realized something,” she said, a slight smile tugging at her lips. It was the kind of smile Azzi knew all too well—it meant Caroline was up to something.

Azzi groaned, already bracing herself. “What?”

Caroline’s eyes sparkled as she leaned in, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “We haven’t fully integrated Paige onto the team yet.”

At the mention of her name, the blue-eyed guard sat up, her attention now fully on Caroline. Before Azzi could stop her, Caroline shouted across the gym, “Truth or drink tonight in my suite!”

The other girls, scattered around the gym, stopped what they were doing. A few exchanged excited glances while others groaned. Caroline always had a way of turning truth or drink into a game that had everyone black out by the end of the night.

Paige looked at Azzi with a confused expression, raising her eyebrow. “Is this how you welcome people to the team?” she asked, leaning closer to Azzi.

Azzi shook her head. “This is a Caroline thing and a Caroline thing only.”

…

About an hour later Paige’s room was quiet except for the sound of pages turning and Paige’s steady breathing.

Azzi was propped up against the headboard, her back cushioned by pillows as she held a book in one hand, the other lazily combing through Paige’s hair. It was something she did absentmindedly, her fingers threading through the strands, tracing small patterns against Paige’s scalp.

Paige had barely made it five minutes after her shower before exhaustion took over. The moment she crawled between Azzi’s legs and rested her head against her stomach and thigh, she was out, her arms loosely wrapped around Azzi’s waist.

Azzi glanced down for a moment, her eyes softening at the sight of Paige curled up against her. She felt the rise and fall of Paige’s breathing against her, a small reminder of just how comfortable they had become with one another. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she turned another page, letting herself enjoy the quiet moment, knowing they wouldn’t have many like this once the season was in full swing.

For now, though, she just kept reading, her fingers still moving through Paige’s hair, the quietness and the warmth between them easing her into her own sense of calm.

A few minutes later, a knock at the door broke the quietness. Azzi hesitated, glancing down at Paige, who was fast asleep between her legs, arms wrapped around her waist. Paige had only thrown on a sports bra and sweats after showering, her body completely relaxed against Azzi’s. Azzi, in her short pajama shorts, suddenly became aware of how…compromising this looked.

She considered not answering, it wasn’t even her room, but the knock came again.

“Who is it?” she finally called out.

“Ice.”

Azzi exhaled, knowing Ice already had a pretty good idea about them at this point. “Come in.” She set her book down as the door opened.

Ice stepped inside, took one look at the scene in front of her, and smirked, crossing her arms. “Well, well, well.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Yes, Ice?”

“Well, I was about to ask Paige something, but I see that’s a lost cause.”

Azzi chuckled, glancing down at Paige, who was still dead to the world, her breathing slow. “Yeah, she’s out.”

Instead of leaving, Ice made herself comfortable, dropping onto the bean bag in the corner of the room. She stretched her legs out and looked at Azzi with curiosity. “So… how’d this actually happen?”

Azzi took a page out of Paige’s book and just shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ice leaned back in the bean bag, arms still crossed as she studied Azzi. After a beat, Ice arched her eyebrow, smirk still in place. “So, she just knocked out on you like that?”

Azzi barely looked up from where her fingers absentmindedly played with strands of Paige’s hair. ��Yup.”

Ice scoffed, shifting in the bean bag. “Right… the same Paige that won’t let anyone on the team touch her outside of a high-five or a pat on the back?”

That got a laugh out of Azzi, her stomach moving with the motion. Paige groaned at the disturbance, burying herself deeper against Azzi as she tightened her grip around her waist. Azzi smiled down at her, rubbing slow circles against her back to soothe her before glancing back at Ice who had an amused look on her face.

“Yeah, that same Paige,” she mumbled.

Ice huffed dramatically. “Bro, when are y’all just gonna admit you have something going on?”

Azzi blinked at her, feigning confusion. “We do?”

Ice booed, grabbing a small pillow from the bean bag and throwing it at Azzi. Azzi moved, trying to bat it away, but instead, it hit Paige.

Paige grumbled in protest, shifting again but not fully waking up. She tightened her hold on Azzi’s waist, her face now completely buried between Azzi’s stomach and thighs.

Azzi shot Ice a glare. “Seriously?”

Ice held up her hands in surrender, but she was still grinning. “My bad, my bad.”

Paige mumbled something incoherent against Azzi’s skin, which sounded a lot like a “stop moving baby,” before settling again, completely unbothered.

Azzi sighed, shaking her head as she ran her fingers through Paige’s hair again, trying to keep her relaxed. “You’re lucky she’s too tired to care.”

Ice smirked. “Oh, I know. But don’t think you’re off the hook.” She tilted her head. “So, what were you saying?”

Azzi just smirked back. “I wasn’t saying anything Ice.”

Ice stood up, stretching slightly before smiling. “I think you forgot—we’re doing truth or drink tonight.”

Azzi tilted her head, the corner of her lips curling. “Hm. Should be fun then.”

Ice chuckled, shaking her head as she mumbled, “Sure will.”

She made her way to the door, casting one last glance at the two of them—Paige still completely wrapped around Azzi, sleeping peacefully, and Azzi looking more than comfortable with it. Ice mumbled something to herself before shutting the door behind her.

Azzi sighed softly, glancing down at Paige, who was still fast asleep.

“Truth or drink, huh?” she mumbled to herself.

…

Later that night the whole team was gathered in Caroline’s suite, sprawled out in a loose circle on the floor. Paige sat with her back leaned against the couch, her usual composed demeanor on display as she sipped from her red cup, though the positioning of those around her told a different story.

Azzi was comfortably settled on her left side, their proximity unmistakable—Paige’s arm was casually draped along the back of the couch behind Azzi, fingers occasionally brushing against her shoulder discreetly. On her right, Qadence sat, though there was a noticeable gap between them, one that subtly contrasted the ease Paige had with Azzi.

Everyone had shot cups in front of them, some of them opting for more casual drinks in red cups as well, their fingers lazily wrapped around them as they settled into the game. Ice was grinning like she had been waiting for this moment all day.

Caroline clapped her hands together. “Alright, y’all know the rules. Truth or drink. You answer honestly, or you take a shot. No skipping, no backing out.”

Azzi smirked, glancing at Paige. “You ready for this?”

Paige just chuckled, shaking her head. “Not at all.”

The game had started off light. The more seasoned players—Ice, Caroline, Aubrey, and KK—had eased the freshmen (Morgan, Allie, and Sarah) and newer members (Paige and Kaitlyn) into the game with safe, easy questions. Simple things like, What’s your guilty pleasure song? or What’s your favorite thing to do outside of basketball? Everyone laughed as Morgan admitted to blasting country music in her car when no one was around, and Allie’s favorite pastime turned out to be baking cookies while binge-watching crime documentaries. Kaitlyn joked about being “uncoordinated” when she first started playing basketball.

But as the group settled into their rhythm, it became clear that Caroline was ready to take things up a notch. She leaned forward with a grin, her eyes scanning the room as she clapped her hands together.

“Alright," she said, her voice filled with excitement. “Time to spice things up a little.”

Everyone exchanged glances, some of them smirking, others letting out nervous laughs as they felt the tension shift in the room.

Caroline started with Ayanna. “So, Yanna…you’ve been a little MIA at night lately. You wanna tell us where you’ve been going?”

Ayanna’s lip twitched as she smiled but without hesitation, she grabbed her shot glass, filled it to the brim, and downed it. She then chased it with whatever was in her red cup, leaning back on her hands. “What can I say?” Ayanna shrugged, “I like my space.”

The room buzzed with laughter as the others took turns asking questions that they knew would have someone taking a shot. Once Ice took her own shot she turned to Paige, her gaze settling on her with a smirk. “How many people have you slept with?”

Paige, though slightly surprised by the inquiry, didn’t flinch. Her response came quickly, “Seven.”

The room fell silent for a moment. Paige had never really hinted at anything regarding her relationship status or past, so her answer intrigued them all. Most of them were just curious to learn more about their teammate, get more ammo to tease her, but Azzi didn’t miss the way Q sat up a little at this information.

Paige, feeling the eyes on her, shrugged nonchalantly. Not knowing who to ask next, she turned her gaze to Caroline. “What about you?” she asked, looking for a little distraction.

Caroline grinned, answering the question with an easy “Five,” before turning the tables. Her eyes flicked over to Qadence, a smile spreading across her face. “Q, who's your crush?”

Azzi couldn’t help but snort at the question, knowing full well what Caroline was trying to do. Azzi’s eyes flicked over to Paige, who seemed momentarily confused by Azzi’s reaction. Azzi just shook her head, Paige raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it.

Meanwhile, Qadence, who was already a little flustered from being put on the spot, quickly reached for her shot. The alcohol burned as she swallowed, and she took a deep breath before scanning the group for her next target. Her eyes landed on Paige.

“Paige,” she started, hesitating only slightly before continuing, “when’s the last time you kissed someone?”

Paige’s lips parted slightly, as if considering whether or not she wanted to answer. Her fingers toyed with the shot glass in front of her before she finally poured herself a shot, lifting it in a silent response.

A mix of groans and cheers filled the room as Paige tossed it back, the liquor burning a familiar path down her throat. She didn’t even flinch, simply grabbing her red cup to chase it down with a sip of her vodka and juice.

Caroline was the first to break the silence, leaning in with a knowing grin. “Ohhh, so it must’ve been recent, huh?”

Paige just shrugged, setting the empty shot glass down with a casual clink. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Qadence narrowed her eyes. “That’s such a cop-out.”

Paige only smirked in response before saying, ”Somebody else ask a question.”

Caroline grinned at the invitation as she turned toward Azzi. “Alright, alright. Since Paige wants to be all mysterious, let’s spice it up. Azzi,” she challenged, “when’s the last time you slept with someone?”

The room went silent for a second as everyone processed the question, and a quiet snicker came from Ice. Paige bit the inside of her cheek to stop from smirking. Azzi arched an eyebrow at the question, taking her time as she leaned back further into the couch.

“Yesterday,” Azzi answered nonchalantly, her voice completely calm despite the waves of attention it immediately drew.

The reaction was instantaneous. The whole team erupted with questions, all talking over each other.

“What?!” Morgan exclaimed, eyes wide in disbelief. “Who was it?”

“Wait, wait, wait—yesterday?” Aubrey yelled.

Caroline just smiled with a wide grin, clearly enjoying the chaos she’d sparked.

Paige was fighting to keep a straight face, her cheeks flushing slightly at how the conversation was unfolding. She glanced at Azzi, trying to gauge her reaction. Azzi remained cool, despite the attention. She smirked, clearly unbothered by the sudden influx of questions. “Next question.”

The game continued like usual, the alcohol loosening everyone up. Most of the team took continuous shots as they got more specific with their questions, digging into each other’s secrets. The laughter started to get louder, and occasionally someone would answer between all the boos.

When it came around to Paige again, Caroline leaned forward with a grin, clearly enjoying the opportunity to mess with her again. “Paige, when's the last time you slept with someone?”

The room went quiet, and all eyes turned to Paige, who chuckled. She knew there was no easy answer to that, and Azzi shot Caroline a quick glare, silently warning her. Paige filled her shot cup, downing it,, but her reluctance to answer questions like this didn’t go unnoticed. Suspicion hung in the air, and the team began to lean in a little closer, eager to get to the heart of the matter.

“Paige, come on,” Morgan said, “don’t be so mysterious. We know you have something going on.”

But Paige didn’t budge. She simply said, “Next question,” with a slight smile on her face.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. The moment she asked someone else a question, it was immediately thrown right back at her.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” KK asked.

Paige answered this one. “Yup.” Her response was quick, but it only seemed to fuel the growing curiosity.

“Where is she from?” Aubrey asked, and Paige took a shot this time. Each time Paige asked someone else a question they threw it right back at her. Everyone trying to figure out what she was hiding.

“How did you meet?” came the next question, followed by Paige taking yet another shot.

“Does she play basketball?” Sarah asked, and this time, Paige answered with a grin. “Yup.” It was the easiest question yet.

As Paige continued to drink the alcohol had her feeling a little more carefree, and she found herself laughing and joking with the team more freely. Her usual calm, guarded demeanor was slipping away as she playfully went back and forth with her teammates, teasing them just as much as they teased her every time someone asked her a question.

Caroline deciding to switch things up a little tossed the question Azzi’s way, a playful grin forming on her face. “So, Azzi, you seeing anyone these days?”

Azzi paused for just a moment as she thought about her next move.

She could answer truthfully.

But where was the fun in that?

Instead, she smirked, lifting a shot to her lips saying, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” before throwing it back.

Caroline raised an eyebrow with a smile tugging at her lips as she leaned back on her hands. Even though Caroline didn’t press for an answer, the rest of the team was now curious about Azzi’s lack of answer.

Paige, still sitting in her original position, shifted slightly. Her gaze looked around the room for a moment before turning her attention to Azzi. She leaned in close, her lips brushing Azzi’s ear as she whispered something no one else could hear. All eyes landed on the pair. Paige’s words were soft, too quiet for anyone to pick up, but Azzi’s smile widened at whatever was being said. Both of their actions were fueled by the alcohol in their system and the fact that most of the team had already pieced together that they were at minimum sleeping with each other.

As Paige pulled back, leaving Azzi with parting words, Azzi’s smile faltered slightly, her teeth catching her bottom lip instead. The others in the group couldn't help but watch in stunned silence, some eyes wide, others trying to piece together what they were witnessing.

Aubrey’s voice broke the quiet, it was a half-laugh, half-statement. “Ya’ll are definitely fucking.”

Ice, wanting to stir the pot and mess with Paige at the same time, leaned forward with a grin. "Paige, are you sleeping with Azzi?"

Paige smirked a glint of amusement flickering in her eyes. She grabbed the bottle of liquor, poured a hefty shot into her glass, and threw it back with ease. She followed it quickly with a swig from her red cup before she smiled at Ice.

Caroline, of course, couldn't resist chiming in. She glanced over at Azzi with a raised eyebrow. “Azzi care to comment?”

Azzi, leaning back in her seat, shook her head with a playful smile. "It’s not my turn to answer a question.".

Caroline wasn’t having it. “All in favor of Azzi answering?" she called out. Almost every hand shot up, almost all of them with eager grins. Azzi glanced around the room, her smile widening at the overwhelming response. She let out a small chuckle, clearly entertained by how quickly the team had caught on.

“Alright, alright,” Azzi relented with a dramatic sigh, pouring herself a hefty shot. Azzi too threw her shot back. Then, with a grin, she reached for Paige's red cup, taking a generous sip from it to chase the burn of the shot.

The room was full of snickers and raised eyebrows, everyone now fully invested in what was unfolding between Paige and Azzi..

As the game continued, they let off of them for a while, aiming for teammates who they thought weren’t drunk enough yet. Until Q, seemingly trying to figure out if it was casual or serious, says, “Paige, how long have you and Azzi been messing around?”

Paige leaned back and glanced at Azzi. She whispered to Azzi under her breath, “If I don’t answer, Imma be messed up. Can’t do another shot.”

Azzi, barely suppressing a smile, simply nodded. “It’s fine,” she replied softly.

With a sigh, Paige lifted her head again, then looked around at the group before answering. “November,” she said, the word slipping out easily enough, but the moment it did, the entire room seemed to erupt with cheers. Caroline and Ice, the only ones who didn’t seem completely shocked by finally getting an answer.

Aubrey, her eyes wide, looked between the two. “Y’all knew?”

“I did,” Caroline admitted, leaning back casually.

“I had my suspicions,” Ice said.

The room was filled with surprised laughter as the rest of the team processed the information. The game, at that point, took a brief pause as everyone let the new piece of the puzzle sink in and they all started talking amongst themselves.

Azzi chuckled, watching as Paige let her head fall back against the couch, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Azzi nudged her gently. “You good?”

Paige let out a soft mumble, barely moving. “I’m drunk.”

Azzi smirked, shifting closer and leaning her weight against Paige, her head resting lightly on her shoulder. “Me too,” she admitted. “Just a little bit.”

Paige, still slouched against the couch, cracked one eye open and turned her head slightly to look at Azzi, her lips quirking up in amusement.

“What?” Azzi asked, feeling Paige’s gaze on her.

“If I’m drunk, you’re definitely drunk.”

Azzi scoffed, sitting up just enough to look at Paige properly. “You took a few more shots than I did,” she argued.

Paige hummed, eyes twinkling as she tilted her head to look at Azzi. “Yeah, but you chased all of yours with my drink,” she pointed out.

Azzi blinked, then glanced at the red cup in her hand. “I thought it was only juice,” she muttered.

Paige shook her head, a grin tugging at her lips. “Vodka too.”

At this, Azzi’s eyes narrowed slightly, she reached over, softly pulling the cup from Paige’s grasp. “Yeah, you’re done.”

Paige just chuckled, letting her head tilt back against the couch again, her gaze trailing over Azzi in a way that didn’t go unnoticed. She licked her lips, her eyes hazy with something that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

Azzi sighed, shaking her head with a smile. “Don’t start.”

Paige’s smile widened slightly. “I didn’t even say anything.”

Azzi arched an eyebrow. “I know that look.”

Paige shrugged. “So?”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “So no.”

Paige just smirked. “Yeah, alright.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly to create some space. “You think I’m lying?”

Paige licked her lips again, before leaning in just a little closer, eliminating the space Azzi created. “Definitely.”

Azzi didn’t want to admit it—not out loud, at least—but Paige was right. Because the way Paige was looking at her right now, with that dark, lazy gaze, had her feeling warmer than she should. And with the drinks still settling into her system, that warmth was only spreading.

Azzi swallowed, shifting slightly. “You’re so full of yourself,” she muttered, trying to take Paige’s attention off of her.

Paige, deciding to push Azzi’s buttons a little, smirked before whispering, “You look good, baby.”

Azzi huffed, shaking her head at the sudden compliment. “Thank you.”

Paige’s smirk only grew. “I don’t look good?”

Azzi sighed, already seeing where this was going. “You always look good.”

Paige leaned in just slightly, eyes flickering to Azzi’s lips. “So tell me I look good then, mama.”

Azzi sucked in a breath, the name making her stomach flip. Paige only ever used it when they were having sex, most of the time it slipped out unintentionally. Having it paired with that look Paige was giving her, that smirk, it was dangerous.

Azzi shifted again, trying to keep her cool, but the way Paige was watching her—like she already knew she had her—made it damn near impossible. “You look good, baby,” she finally said, her voice quieter now.

Paige hummed, tilting her head. “How good?”

Azzi clenched her jaw slightly, feeling the warmth of the drinks settling in, mixing with the heat Paige was so effortlessly igniting in her.

“Paige.”

Paige licked her lips, closing the small space between them just a little more. “C’mon, mama. Be specific.”

Azzi let out a quiet breath, glancing away briefly in an attempt to collect herself. But when she looked back at Paige, she knew there was no getting out of this one.

“You look so good,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Too good.”

Paige’s smirk widened. “C’mere.”

Azzi swallowed hard, keeping her expression neutral despite the fire Paige was so effortlessly stoking inside her as she scooted closer.

Paige, still leaned back against the couch, let her lips hover dangerously close to Azzi’s ear. “I want you,” she whispered, like she wanted Azzi to feel every word.

Azzi exhaled sharply through her nose, tilting her head just slightly, pretending to stay relaxed even as her pulse betrayed her. She knew the team wasn’t paying too much attention to them right now, but she also knew Paige had no business talking to her like this in front of everyone.

“You’re drunk, baby,” Azzi whispered back, keeping her voice steady, even though her hands flexed slightly against her thighs.

Paige shrugged lazily, completely unbothered.

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “No not,” she murmured, mimicking Paige’s shrug.

Paige only smirked. “I’m sober enough to know what I’m tryna do to you.”

Azzi clenched her jaw, inhaling through her nose as she fought the urge to react.

“I know you’re warm for me Az,” Paige whispered.

Azzi bit her lip, shifting again, suddenly hyper aware of how her body was reacting.

“Can’t wait to have you mama,” Paige continued. “Imma have you screaming for me.”

At this point the alcohol was fueling the words falling off of Paige’s tongue. She meant every word she was saying, the alcohol simply making it easier for them to roll off her tongue in the middle of Caroline’s suite. Every word Paige whispered had Azzi’s control slipping.

Azzi felt her resolve cracking, her body leaning further into Paige before she could stop herself.

Slowly, Azzi turned her head, hovering just above Paige’s lips, ready to whisper something back—ready to give in just a little.

But before she could—

"Alright, y’all are way too comfortable now, take that shit somewhere else.” Ice’s voice cut through the tension, making Azzi freeze for half a second before she turned toward them, schooling her expression.

The whole team was watching. Some were smirking, some shaking their heads laughing, one of them wishing it was them.

Azzi exhaled, forcing a chuckle as she leaned back slightly. But Paige? Paige didn’t move.

Didn’t look away.

Didn’t even acknowledge the interruption.

Her eyes stayed locked on Azzi, gaze steady, amused—like she hadn’t just been caught whispering the filthiest things in her ear in front of their entire team.

Azzi opened her mouth to say something, but Paige was already moving.

With an easy confidence, Paige stood up, her fingers gently wrapping around Azzi’s wrist as she tugged her up with her. There was no hesitation, no explanation.

Azzi, still holding Paige’s basically empty red solo cup, glanced at it for a brief moment before tipping it back, downing the rest of whatever mix of juice and vodka was left. She set the cup down with a soft thud and turned back toward the group, throwing up a hand as she called out, “Bye”

The team barely had a chance to respond before Paige was already leading her out the door.

As soon as they stepped into Paige’s suite, the door barely clicking shut behind them, Paige was on Azzi. With a soft but insistent push, she pressed Azzi against the door, pressing her body flush against hers.

Paige’s warm and eager lips found Azzi’s neck, her teeth grazing over the sensitive skin before her tongue soothed the spot, leaving marks in her wake. Azzi let out a quiet whimper at the contact, her breath catching as if she’d been waiting—almost aching—for this.

Paige hummed at the sound, her hands settling on Azzi’s waist as she continued working her mouth against her neck, sucking lightly before dragging her teeth over the same spot, repeating this process all over her neck. Azzi shivered, threading her fingers through Paige’s hair, holding her close, wanting more.

Then, suddenly, Paige pulled back.

Azzi let out another soft whimper at the loss of contact, her grip tightening in Paige’s hair to pull her back in, but Paige didn’t move forward just yet. Her breath was warm against Azzi’s skin as she exhaled.

"You good, right beautiful?" The words were quiet, but the meaning was clear. Paige was checking in, making sure Azzi wasn’t too drunk, making sure they were on the same page.

Azzi swallowed, her heart pounding as she met Paige’s gaze. "I’m good," she nodded.

Almost immediately she feels Paige push inside of her. She doesn’t even know when Paige dipped her fingers inside her sweats, didn’t know when she pushed her underwear to the side. All Azzi knows is she feels Paige pumping her fingers in and out of her and she feels perfect.

Before Azzi even knew it, her head was falling back against the door, her breath hitching as something loud and unrestrained left her mouth. Paige just smiled at the sound, watching Azzi’s reaction with dark, hooded eyes. She looked so damn proud of herself, so in control.

Azzi felt like her soul was leaving her body, floating somewhere outside of herself, completely lost in the moment. But every time Paige curled her fingers—every brush of her lips, every press of her body—Azzi was yanked right back to reality, her senses drowning in Paige.

They had never been like this before.

So needy. So desperate.

So completely all over one another.

Paige had never been this dominant, never taken control like this, and it was making Azzi’s head spin. She could barely think, barely breathe.

Azzi surges forward, crashing their lips together in a messy, desperate kiss. She bites down on Paige’s lip, tugging slightly until Paige let out a low groan, parting her lips in surrender.

Azzi doesn’t hesitate when Paige grants her access, sliding her tongue into Paige’s mouth, deepening the kiss as Paige groans against her. It was all-consuming—hands gripping, bodies pressing closer, the taste of alcohol on each of their lips.

Paige easily slides another finger into Azzi causing her to let out another unrestrained sound, her head falling back against the door as Paige’s fingers bury themselves further into her. Azzi’s grip in Paige’s hair tightens, her breaths coming out in short, shaky exhales as she completely loses herself in the way Paige is fucking her against the door.

Paige watches her–really watches her. The way Azzi’s eyes are half-lidded and hazy, her jaw slightly slack, her lips parted like she’s trying to catch her breath. Paige smirks, licking her lips before leaning in near Azzi’s ear. “Fuck…you’re taking my finger’s like such a good girl baby.”

Azzi’s reaction is instant–a sharp inhale, a soft, needy sound slipping out before she can stop it. Paige immediately grins, her smirk widening because damn–Azzi likes shit like this.

And now that Paige knows, she isn’t about to let it go.

She brings her hand up to Azzi’s throat, wrapping her fingers around it just tight enough—not restricting, just enough for Azzi to feel it. Paige watches Azzi’s eyes flutter, her breath hitching as her body reacts, heat rolling off of her in waves. Paige tilts her head slightly, as she murmurs, “Oh, you like this shit, huh?”

Azzi's chest rises and falls with shallow breaths as she fights to keep herself grounded. Her eyes lock onto Paige's, her lips parted as she breathlessly responds, "I... I do." Her hands grip tighter in Paige's hair, tugging her closer as she leans into the pressure of Paige's touch, desperate for more.

Paige smirks at her reaction, clearly enjoying the power she has over Azzi. "Good," she breathes against Azzi’s neck. "Then work for it."

The words cause all thoughts to leave Azzi’s head as she starts grinding down on Paige’s hand. An almost pornographic moan escaping from her throat—she’s never been so grateful that her teammates were probably drunkenly passed out in Caroline’s room. Paige pushes into her with a little extra pressure, a little faster as Azzi follows her pace completely. Azzi’s able to keep the rhythm for a few seconds before her eyes are rolling back.

Paige sucks on her neck whispering, “Mmm that’s it baby. Keep working for it just like that mama.”

Azzi gasps as she says, “Oh my God…please.” There’s a pause before she’s whimpering again saying, “Fuck please baby.”

Paige murmurs against Azzi’s neck, “Please what.”

“Please I need it baby. I’m right there.”

At this request Paige is curling her fingers perfectly, mumbling incoherently at how good Azzi feels. But every word brings Azzi closer and makes her push harder against Paige.

“Paige, fuck. I’m right there baby. Fuck, please…please baby.” Azzi sounds almost desperate as the pleas leave her lips, Begging Paige to give her more, to let her come undone.

But then Paige is pulling her fingers completely out of Azzi causing her to whimper out, “please no.”

Paige chuckles as she gently shushes Azzi saying, “I got you baby, just hold on gimme a second.” She begins tugging Azzi toward her room. She walked backwards, a small smirk tugging at her lips. Her eyes never left Azzi. Watching with a quiet intensity as Azzi’s gaze flickered between dazed and hungry, every inch of her body on fire with anticipation.

Paige’s steps were measured, each one pulling them closer to the bedroom. She walked backwards, a small, smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. Her eyes never left Azzi’s, watching with a quiet intensity as Azzi’s gaze flickered between dazed and hungry, every inch of her body aching with anticipation.

Something about Paige’s presence made everything feel charged, like the weight of the room had shifted. Her energy was commanding, but smooth, like she owned every inch of the space between them, her confidence practically radiating off her. It was a kind of energy from Paige that Azzi had never experienced to this extent before.

Paige's smirk grew as she felt Azzi’s gaze following her every movement. She leaned in, her voice just above a whisper but filled with the same confidence. “Come on, baby,” she murmured. She tugged gently at Azzi’s hand.

Azzi took another step forward, the space between them narrowing until she was almost pressed up against Paige as they walked. She could feel the pull, could feel her heart racing in her chest as Paige’s energy swirled around her.

This was different. This was different from anything they’d shared before.

When they get to the room, Paige gently pushes the door closed making sure she locks it. She gently tugs on Azzi again, pulling her completely against her.

Azzi expects to be led to the bed, but instead, Paige gently moves her toward the desk.

She gently bends Azzi forward, pressing Azzi’s chest against the surface of the desk. Azzi inhales sharply at the sensation, feeling her heart race as Paige’s presence wraps around her like a second skin.

The room feels smaller now. Azzi’s breath catches as Paige leans in, her lips close to Azzi’s ear. “Stay right there,” she whispers. Azzi’s body responds before she can even process the words, warmth pooling in her stomach.

Paige nudges her legs apart slightly before she’s pulling Azzi’s sweats down and getting on her knees, her hands resting on the back of Azzi’s thighs as she leans into her center.

The moment Paige connects her mouth to Azzi, she’s letting out a quiet moan.

Paige hums into Azzi as she lets her tongue move all over her, making sure she doesn’t miss an inch. She’s sucking and licking, pushing herself into Azzi, gripping on her thighs and Azzi feels like she’s about to fall apart.

Azzi feels the heat from her stomach rise to her chest, getting stuck in her throat as she lets out another whimper–the only sound she can muster as she rocks herself forward. Paige encourages the movement, humming against Azzi silently telling her to keep going. It doesn’t take long for Azzi to return to where she was just moments ago near the front door and her leg’s start to slightly tremble.

Paige notices it, and she immediately adds her finger to the mix, circling Azzi’s clit as she swipes her tongue across her completely.

Azzi let’s out a breathy moan, “Paige…P, please–”

Paige smirks as she mumbles against Azzi center saying, “I know, it’s ok baby you can let go. Lemme taste you.”

This is all it takes for Azzi to let out a loud cry as she releases on Paige’s face and Paige is lapping all of it up, like she’s desperate for Azzi, like it’s the best thing she’s ever had. The pleasure is crashing over Azzi over and over again and at one point she feels like she isn’t even on earth anymore as Paige cleans her up.

Even though Azzi finishes it doesn’t seem like Paige is going to stop anytime soon. Her mouth is still on Azzi, tongue still working all over her–just fast enough, just firm enough. Azzi thinks she sees stars when she squeezes her eyes shut, grasping at the desk for something to hold onto.

When Paige pushes her tongue back into Azzi she thinks it becomes a little too much, the warmth in Azzi’s stomach returning immediately. “Baby,” she whispers out, one of her hands reaching back to try to push Paige away. Paige immediately grabs her hand, trapping it with her own as she continues. Azzi whimpers saying, “I can’t…baby…it’s too much.”

Paige pulls back just enough to speak to Azzi saying, “C’mon baby I know you got one more for me. Please…you taste so good mama.”

Azzi’s breath catches when she hears the tone of Paige’s voice, when she hears her pleading to keep going. Azzi simply nods as she drops her cheek back to the desk as Paige immediately dives back down her mouth moving against Azzi again, perfectly swirling her tongue.

Azzi’s voice cracks as she whimpers out, “Fuck.” This time instead of reaching behind her to push Paige away she’s trying to push herself further into Paige’s face. In response Paige pulls Azzi closer leaning back just slightly to admire the wetness dripping down Azzi’s leg before she’s diving back in. Azzi’s eyes rolling back into her head as she lets out another moan.

Paige hums against Azzi whispering, “You sound so pretty Az.” The praise has Azzi whimpering again, her legs trembling as Paige brings her to the edge again. Her entire body feels like it’s on fire, she feels like her brain is going into overdrive, her nerves firing in every direction. Then Paige is speaking again saying, “Fuck I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

Azzi nearly sobs out, “Oh my fucking god,” at the words, at the feeling of Paige, her chest pressing harder against the desk as her back arches slightly. Paige doesn’t respond. She just hums against Azzi as she continues eating her, seemingly enjoying this more than the girl sprawled out over the desk.

Azzi’s second release catches her completely off guard. It shocks her entire system like a cold plunge and her entire body convulses, seeing white as her soul leaves her body, choked gasps escaping her lips.

Paige helps Azzi ride out her high, holding her up against the desk, cleaning her up completely as waves of pleasure continue crashing through Azzi’s body. When Paige pulls back Azzi is all over her face. Her nose and lips are wet, there’s liquid dripping down her chin and Paige looks like she just won the lottery with the way her eyes are sparkling.

Paige gently helps Azzi over to the bed, her hands lingering for a moment longer than necessary, as if savoring the way Azzi’s body reacts to every touch. She guides Azzi down slowly, making sure she’s comfortable before standing above her. The sight of Azzi lying there, all flushed and needy, makes Paige’s breath hitch just for a moment before she leans down, her lips capturing Azzi’s in a kiss that’s deep and slow. Azzi hums in response, her tongue swiping all over Paige’s lips as she tastes herself, sending more heat pooling in her stomach.

Paige pulls away after a long moment, her lips curling into a faint, smile as she whispers, “Take off your shirt, baby.”

Azzi doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t need any more encouragement. She reaches up, her fingers trembling slightly as she pulls off her shirt and bra, her eyes never leaving Paige’s as she does. Paige watches her for a few moments, her gaze dark, before turning and walking toward her closet.

Azzi watches her, breathless, completely dazed and in awe at the way Paige is making her feel right now. Paige leans over in the closet rummaging for something for a second before she stands up.

When Paige stands up she says, “You wanna do something different, baby?”

Azzi’s heart skips a beat when she sees what is in Paige's hand, without a second thought, she almost breaks her neck with the speed of her nod, her body reacting before her mind can fully catch up. Her eyes are wide, glossy, reflecting the anticipation that’s swirling inside of her.

Paige watches the reaction with a sense of satisfaction, knowing that she’s already driving Azzi wild making her grin even more. She takes a slow step toward Azzi, her eyes not leaving her as she answers, “I thought you might like that.”

Paige unwraps the new packaging before ridding herself of her clothes. Each time she takes off a layer Azzi feels the anticipation growing in her stomach. Once all of her clothes are off, Paige just stands there for a moment, completely open in front of Azzi. Azzi watches the entire time completely in awe as Paige slowly puts the strap on, making sure everything is perfectly in place before she’s moving back toward Azzi.

Paige climbs back on the bed moving slowly, carefully, like she’s savoring each moment with Azzi. Their lips meet in a kiss that starts soft and tender but quickly grows messy, desperate. Their mouths find each other like it’s the only thing that matters, the rhythm of their kisses erratic as their bodies draw closer.

Paige eventually pulls away, her breath shaky as she looks down at Azzi, her thumb gently brushing over Azzi’s cheek. The softness of the touch contrasting with the intensity of the moment, and Paige’s voice is barely a whisper, heavy with a quiet concern. “You gonna be okay?”

Azzi’s eyes lock with hers, her breathing shallow as she nods up at Paige, the trust clear in her gaze. It’s enough for Paige to lean back down, her lips brushing Azzi’s a few more times before she pulls away again, her eyes filled with affection and an unspoken hunger.

Paige licks her lips slowly, eyes never leaving Azzi’s face. The thought of what comes next makes her pulse race, but she keeps her tone soft, controlled, as she adds, “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

The weight of her words lingers in the air, an unspoken promise that she’ll be attuned to Azzi’s every need, ready to pull back if needed.

Paige swipes it across Azzi a few times and Azzi who's still sensitive whimpers at the sensation. Then Paige is easing into Azzi, slowly. Paige only goes in enough to allow Azzi to adjust to the size. Azzi bites her lip at the feeling, her eyes fluttering slightly as she gets herself used to the stretch. Once she adjusts she nods up at Paige and Paige pushes in deeper, still not completely but enough to give Azzi a sense of how much she can take.

Azzi whimpers out a delicate sound as she looks up at Paige who’s studying her intently.

“You like it mama?” Paige asks as she looks at Azzi softly.

Azzi nods, reaching for Paige’s waist pulling her into her completely– moaning loudly at the feeling.

Paige’s breath catches when she does this, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s as she studies her with a mix of awe and desire. She takes in every detail—how Azzi’s chest is rising and falling, the way her lips are parted. Paige mumbles out, “Jesus, you’re so perfect.” As she says this she starts rolling her hips into Azzi. She starts off slow, being careful with every thrust initially, but when she sees the way Azzi is taking it, the way Azzi’s lips are parted as she looks up at Paige with hooded eyes she can’t help but to pick up her pace.

Azzi can’t help but whimper every time Paige pushes into her, her movements causing Azzi to naturally rock into her, only adding more to the feeling. Paige is completely spent as she watches Azzi and she can’t help but sing her praises. “Fuck you’re so incredible, baby,” she whispers, “feel so good...every inch of you, so perfect.” Azzi lets out a loud slew of loud moans in response, Paige’s voice always doing something to her body.

“You’re all I want, baby. Make me lose control... so fucking easily mama.” Paige continues, her voice a little raspy as she works in and out of Azzi, her hands on Azzi’s hips, keeping her still as she works into her. “I’ve never seen anyone like you. So beautiful, so fucking perfect... you drive me crazy.”

Azzi feels like she’s in heaven. She can’t even manage to find words as heat spreads through her body, her breath ragged. Everything Paige is doing right now feels perfect. Azzi feels like it’s too much and like she can’t get enough at the same time. Like Paige is too deep but not deep enough. Azzi reaches up, pulling Paige by the shoulders to bring her closer. “You feel so fucking good P,” she whimpers out, her voice breaking halfway through at the pace that Paige is going.

At the confirmation Paige only speeds up, as she works in and out perfectly, Like she knows exactly what Azzi needs, exactly how much her girl can take. The sound of Paige moving in and out of Azzi fills the room and Paige can only groan at the sound, knowing it’s all for her. “Damn baby, that shit is crazy. You hear that?”

All Azzi can do is nod as her nails dig deeper into Paige’s sides.

Paige keeps talking, the words leaving her mouth naturally. Like she’s been waiting to have Azzi like this. Paige smiles against Azzi's skin before mumbling, “This shit’s all mine Azzi.” She leans down again, kissing Azzi's neck as she savors the sound of Azzi's breathy whimpers near her ear.

Azzi's hands tremble as they grip Paige’s skin, her breath shallow and quick. "I'm all yours," she says with a strong sense of submission, her voice shaky but filled with certainty. "Only yours baby."

Paige licks her lips at the admission, her pupils completely blown as she rocks into Azzi. She slides her hand in between them two of her fingers finding Azzi’s bud as she begins circling her fingers in rhythm with her movements.

This addition has Azzi screaming out a moan her body bucking into Paige as she squeezes her tighter, “Fuck Paige, Oh my God you’re amazing.”

Paige whispers in Azzi’s ear, “I want you to finish for me baby. I wanna see you shake for me, pretty girl.”

Paige’s voice is enough to send Azzi over the edge and for the third time that night she’s coming undone. This one feels impossibly better, her legs wrap around Paige’s waist to pull her deeper as she shakes underneath her, her vision blurring as she lets out a series of unrestrained moans, screaming Paige’s name for any and everybody to hear.

Paige doesn’t stop, she only slows her movements making sure she lets Azzi feel every bit of pleasure she possibly can as she whimpers under her. When Azzi’s breath subsides slightly Paige is pulling out and flipping her over and fuck Azzi feels like she’s about to pass out when Paige slides back into her.

Azzi looks back at Paige whispering, “I can’t do anymore baby.”

Paige, who is still breathing heavily, licks her lips as she looks at Azzi. Usually she wouldn’t hesitate to listen to Azzi’s words, she would be sliding out immediately. But she doesn’t miss the way Azzi slightly pushes herself further onto the strap, the way she sighs at the feeling. So Paige smirks saying, “Lemme get one more beautiful.” Then Paige is chuckling because Azzi immediately nods as she arches further into Paige.

Paige knows Azzi won’t last long so she savors the sight. Azzi’s chest pressed into her mattress, her back arched—it’s all so perfect, Azzi’s perfect. She begins pushing herself into her. In this new position she’s pulling out completely before pushing back in, admiring the view each time.

Once she gets a nice rhythm she reaches forward, tangling her fingers in Azzi’s curly hair and tugging just slightly. Azzi immediately lets out a whimper and Paige smirks saying “You want me to pull it?”

Azzi whimpers out, “Please.”

Paige obliges, tugging Aziz’s hair with a little more aggression as she picks up the pace of her hips. At this point Azzi is already close, her jaw is slack and she can’t bring herself to make any sounds, just feel the way Paige is pushing into like nothing else matters.

Azzi never knew how much she liked rough sex before this moment. She loved how Paige hadn’t given her an inch to make a decision—the moment they walked into the door, Paige was on her, doing what she wanted to her. She gets so lost in the feelings, in the way Paige is hitting something deep inside her over and over that she sobs out a broken, “Fuck I love you baby…please don’t stop.”

Paige catches this and she feels like her chest is about to explode. Paige licks her lips, her fingers tightening in Azzi’s hair as she tugs harder, pulling Azzi up towards her slightly. “You love me, pretty girl?”

Azzi’s breath was ragged, her throat dry as she nodded, her body betraying the warmth of her confession. It was a truth she hadn’t meant to say out loud—not like this, not with the world spinning around them, but it was there now.

Paige’s grip tightened. “Show me,” she whispered, her tone a velvet demand that sent a shiver down Azzi’s spine. “Put on a fucking show for me, Az. Show me how much you love me mama.”

It’s like the words ignite something in Azzi as she starts throwing herself back against Paige, her eyes watering at the feeling. Paige throws her head back at the feeling of the harness pressing against her. “Shit baby, just like that. Feels so fucking good,” Paige mumbles out as the tension in her stomach grows.

Azzi keeps going, her pace relentless as she holds off on her own release knowing Paige is close.

Paige decides to meet Azzi’s pace with her own thrust causing both of them to be a moaning mess, both of them letting out incoherent words and desperate sounds as they meet one another. Paige mumbles out, “Fuck I love you Az. I’m bouta cum baby. Keep going for me please baby.”

All it takes is one more push from Azzi before they’re both coming undone together. A mess filling the sheets as they ride out their high.

After a few seconds Paige slumps next to Azzi, both of them completely spent, their bodies still buzzing with the remnants of everything that had just unfolded between them. The room was still, the only sound filling the space was their heavy breathing, both of them trying to catch their breath. Azzi felt like her body had turned to jelly, every muscle was heavy and warm, while Paige felt like she’d just run a marathon. There was a peaceful stillness between them, a quiet that had settled in, as they both tried to regain their bearings.

With their eyes still closed, Azzi spoke first. “That was different,” she said, her words a bit breathless, a slight tremor still in her voice.

Paige chuckled lightly, her chest still rising and falling with each deep breath. “Yeah, I know.” She didn’t even need to see Azzi’s face to know she licked it.

Azzi nodded, though Paige couldn’t see it. “I liked it,” she admitted..

Paige’s lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. “Yeah?” she asked, her tone teasing but affectionate.

Azzi nodded again. “Yeah,” she repeated, feeling her heart race as she lay there in the quiet, her chest feeling tight from the confession she hadn’t quite intended to make.

The silence hung in the air between them for a moment, the silence was peaceful, but it didn’t last long before Azzi spoke again, her words more hesitant this time.

“I didn’t mean for that to come out like that,” she murmured, feeling a small wave of insecurity wash over her, unsure if the words she’d let slip were too much, too soon.

Paige turned her head toward Azzi, even though neither of them were looking at each other. She reached out, her hand finding Azzi’s, her fingers lacing together.

“Neither did I,” Paige murmured, her voice low,

She paused, gathering her thoughts, feeling the weight of her own admission. After a beat, she whispered, “I meant it though, Az.”

Azzi’s breath caught at the sincerity in Paige’s voice. She slowly opened her eyes, her heart pounding as she processed the words. For a moment, everything felt suspended in time. She reached over, her hand gentle as she rubbed Paige’s cheek with her thumb, savoring the softness of her skin. Her thumb moved higher, trailing over the scar near Paige’s hairline, something so familiar, something that had always been there. Azzi traced it slowly, memorizing the curve of it, the way it marked Paige in a way that was all her own.

Azzi’s voice was barely above a whisper, the words slipping out like a secret she couldn’t keep any longer. “I love you, Paige.”

Paige’s chest tightened at the confession. Her heart raced, and before she even realized it, her eyes opened to meet Azzi’s. Paige’s blue eyes searched Azzi’s brown ones, filled with something deeper than she had ever realized before. A smile tugged at the corner of Paige’s lips as she replied softly. “I love you.”

Azzi leaned down to kiss Paige softly, her lips pressing gently against hers, savoring the moment, committing it to memory. When she pulled back, her smile was tender, but then her gaze shifted to the sheets beneath them and she realized just how damp they were.

"We're not sleeping in here," Azzi mumbled,

Paige chuckled, her lips curling into a grin. "Figured."

The two of them carefully climbed out of bed, Paige removing the harness. They quickly agreed to take a quick shower in Paige's room before heading over to Azzi’s. The water was warm and soothing, washing away the remnants of their night as Azzi completely leaned against Paige, not able to fully stand on her own. They didn’t speak much in the shower, just sharing soft glances and quiet smiles as Paige cleaned both of them.

Once they were done they both threw on sweats and a hoodie. Azzi jumped on Paige’s back and Paige carried her a few doors down to her room, both of them giggling along the way. When they entered Azzi's room, they both let out a quiet breath of relief, sinking into the softness of the bed once they tugged off the hoodies.

Paige pulled Azzi against her chest, her arms wrapping around her tightly, holding her like she never wanted to let go. Azzi snuggled closer, breathing in Paige’s scent, her head resting against Paige's chest as she whispered softly, “I love you.”

Paige smiled softly at this as she pressed a soft kiss to the top of Azzi’s head, her voice barely a murmur. “I love you more, beautiful.”

With that, Paige felt a sense of peace wash over her, her mind quieting and her chest light, like all of the weight she’d been carrying for years had simply melted away at the words. Her eyes fluttered closed, and soon enough, she easily drifted into a deep sleep, the warmth of Azzi in her arms filling her with a sense of calm and contentment she had never known before.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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kamiversee · 4 months ago

Text

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

10 | I know that's

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | language, tension, flirting, mention of drugs & alcohol consumption, sexual tension, teasing, taunting, etc.

❧ Word Count | 7.2k (phew.)

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——Back in your room, you wasted no time calling Gojo back. That whole… thing with Choso is something you’ll save your worrying for another day. As of right now, Gojo should be your main focus since you have a Halloween party to attend with him tonight.

Laying stomach first across your surprisingly neatly made bed, your feet dance back and forth in the air as you hold your cellphone to your ear and listen to Gojo ramble to you about his day. He didn’t address the phone hanging up at all or the way he definitely heard Choso’s voice before the line disconnected earlier—he just got on the phone, asked if you were alright, and then when back to what he’d been telling you before.

Which brings a nice smile to your face. It’s refreshing to have someone like Gojo to talk to, honestly. Not only do you really enjoy conversing with him or listening to him talk but, you also like how he didn’t question you like crazy. That simple act alone took some weight off of your shoulders because it meant you didn’t have to lie again. God knows you hate lying to the guy.

But you’re not gonna tell him the truth either because the truth is terrible. How do you even being to explain to your crush that you almost fucked your best friend again in the short amount of time you were off of the phone with him?

“So,” Gojo continues, clearing his throat a bit between words. “Aside from tonight’s party, you don’t have any plans for today, right?”

Your head tilts further against the phone as you release a gentle sigh, “To my knowledge, no I don’t have any other plans. Why?”

He yawns softly, “Because, that gives us enough time to go last-minute costume shopping, remember?”

Chuckling into the phone, your lips curve into a smile. “Don’t you have work?” You ask.

You can’t see it of course but, Gojo rolls his eyes at that, “I mean, yeah… But I’m sure my boss won’t mind if I close up a bit early. It’s Halloween.”

“If you say so,” You comment. “I’m assuming you want me to meet you at the cafe in a few hours then?”

“Yup,” Gojo hums with a sassy lil pop of the ‘p’ at the end there. “Til’ then, I’ll have to drown myself in work. My break’s about to be over.”

You click your tongue and frown a bit, “Aw, well hopefully time flies by fast.”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

Once off of the phone with Gojo, you spend your day holing yourself up in your bedroom in an honest attempt of avoiding Choso. Luckily for you, at no point did he come knocking on your door trying to gain a bit of your attention. This provided you with a rather relaxing morning and afternoon of bedrotting.

Not the most productive thing to do but, hey, at least time flew by pretty fast. After lazying around for hours waiting for the right time, you ended up rolling out of bed and throwing on something cozy to go out in—you’d be changing into a costume in an hour so there was no point in dressing up too cute or anything.

You end up exiting you apartment wearing something easy to get in and out of so that when you do find your costume, and in the event that it later gets uncomfortable, you have something else to throw back on.

Taking a walk all the way throughout your campus just to reach that cute lil’ cafe you’ve grown to love and adore, you felt the season of fall brushing all against your skin as you walked. It’s as if that hectic morning of yours never even took place with how peaceful this part of your day was. For just a moment, it was only you and your thoughts. No horny Choso humping against you like a dog in heat, no anxiety induced thoughts screaming at you everytime Gojo talks to you… just, tranquility.

And when you finally arrive at the designated coffeehouse you’ve been to time and time again, a smile is painted across your face before you even push past the front doors. The sun is making it’s set so the sky is all pretty with different hues of oranges and reds—something you took a few pictures of on your way here.

Grabbing a hold of the warm metal door handles, you give it a light push and that homey smell of coffee rushes into your nose. A smell in which you’ve grown quite fond of given what follows shortly after…

No one is inside except for Gojo so the smile on your face merely brightens as you meet eyes with him. Almost like a damn puppy, his entire demeanor lightens up at your presence, pretty dimples peaking out in his cheeks as he reciprocates your happy expression.

You’re approaching the counter and he’s making his way around it, all too quick to embrace you by wrapping his muscular arms around your waist and pulling you in close. Gojo lets out a long sigh, “Been’ waiting all day to do this, y’know.” He tells you, voice muffled slightly with the way his face slowly barries itself into the crook of your neck.

You hug him back with the same amount of passion he’d approached you with and then smile. “Do what? Hug me?” Your voice is gentle against his ears and unbeknownst to you, his heart feels all weird in his chest. Then there’s these flutters your feel in your stomach at how good he smells and how stupidly clingy he seems to be today.

It’s this strange mix of coffee beans and his cologne that seeps into your nose now, making you hug him just a bit tighter to simmer into the scent some more. He smells like a hard working man and you simply love that for whatever reason. You suppose that thing people say about a man in uniform is true after all…

“Yeah,” Gojo soon answers your question whilst lifting his face from your neck and meeting your eyes again. His gaze stays put for barely even a second before he’s cracking a smirk and leaning in to kiss you.

A brief grin ghosts your lips as he kisses you. Your arms firmly wrap around his neck and you push up on your toes a bit to deepen the connection of your mouths. Gojo’s lips feel like comfort against your own, almost as if you were ice and he the sun—his every touch melting you in his hands. You let out a small hum in between the kiss as he slots his lips against yours further, steadily drawing your bottom lip into his mouth and sucking on it.

His tongue dances against the plump skin for only a moment before he pries himself away and you both ease out a small breath of air. “And that,” Gojo says, “I swear you’re on my mind all day.”

Such a soft admission spoken to you so suddenly makes you gulp. “Am I now?” You whisper, noticing how he’s leaning back in for another kiss already.

Gojo wets his lips and smiles. “Yeah,” He utters back just as softly, skin brushing over yours, and eyes narrowing, “Jus’ can’t get enough of you.” Is the last thing he tells you before he’s ridding himself of all the space between you two again.

No one else is in the establishment, so you kiss for a hot minute. It’s soft at first, like always, but then it gradually heats up. His hands move to your waist and his head tilts further while his tongue makes its journey into the wet caverns of your mouth. Groaning at the sweet taste resting there, Gojo unconsciously steps forward with you. You naturally follow his lead and he ends up kissing you until your lower back meets the counter.

Not sparing you the chance to break the kiss, Gojo bends down a little and swiftly lifts you up onto the counter—his lips never once leaving yours. He feels starved as he makes out with you right in the middle of where he works. Hushing out a simple, “Taste s’sweet,” In between your lips.

You mutter his name somewhere throughout the kissing and one of your hands ends up on his chest, very faintly pushing him. As the kiss is severed, Gojo has this needy expression all over his face and his cheeks are reddened. He’s so pretty that it genuinely hurts to look at. It almost isn’t fair.

“Don’t we have some shopping to do?” You remind the man in a slightly breathless tone.

Gojo bats his lashes at you almost innocently. “Yeahh, but we have time, don’t we?” As the words roll off of his tongue, his lips are curving into that taunting little smile again, and then his dimples are making yet another appearance.

His hands, which are so stupidly soft, trace the outskirts of your thighs upon the counter. Those almost beryl-blue eyes of his scan over your face, taking in every inch and curve, studying you, and getting mesmerized by you. If you looked way too closely into it all, you’d almost asume the guy was in lo—

You clear your own throat to cut that thought off. “No, it’s Halloween, silly.” You remind him with a smile, glancing down to your hands on his chest and moving your fingertips to trace what you can feel beneath his clothes. “There’s barely gonna be costumes as is, the later we go, the less there’ll be.”

Gojo sighs while he thinks for a moment. His bottom lip protrudes as he pouts and you can’t help the way you chuckle at that. “S’not funny. I really did miss you,” He tells you again, tipping his head down into your neck and pressing his lips against your skin, “But you’re right, we probably should head out now.” He’s agreeing with you with his words but the way he’s planting these soft pecks against your neck is saying something else entirely.

His kisses tickle and you end up holding onto his shirt a bit and letting out a giggle, “Satoru,” You call out once, receiving no sign of him stopping his ticklish kisses. Then you squirm and he smiles against you. “‘Toru,” You say, to which his teeth graze you.

“Such a tease,” Gojo simmered into your skin hotly. “Callin’ me that nickname like you don’t know what it does t’me…”

Full on smiling now, you angle your head to look at him and he pulls away from your neck to meet that incoming gaze. His pupils seem to expand ever so slightly as they’re met with yours but, you may have imagined that. “It does something to you?” You ask innocently as you push forward to slide off of the counter, “I had no idea…!”

That cheery faux innocence in your tone makes Gojo’s smile expand before his eyes roll. He watches the way you step aside and straighten up your clothes before sending him one last glance. Something about you really keeps his mind at this mushy state because every time his eyes lock with yours it’s like he can’t form a single thought in his brain that doesn’t involve you.

Staring, letting a small moment of the eye contact pass by, Gojo scoffs softly. “Riight, sure you didn’t.” He replies to your last comment sarcastically.

After that brief conversation, which could’ve easily progressed into something more if you didn’t stop him, you assist Gojo in cleaning up the cafe so he can leave with you. All you had to do was wipe a few tables off and then you watched him sweep and mop. It seemed like not many people had come in today given the state of the kitchen and how clean it was (you’d picked up on how messy it gets when Gojo is swamped with customers a while back).

Small talk is held almost the entire time up until he finally closes up and walks you to his car. It’s then that silence is welcomed back into your space and even as you walk with him, you still feel this comforting air wrapping around you. Especially when Gojo throws an arm over your shoulder and soon opens his car door for you. He’s so strangely perfect that you can’t help the way you feel for him.

Even throughout the car ride to… the nearest costume shop? He plays a bunch of Halloween songs and throughout Micheal Jackson’s ‘Thriller’, you notice that even Gojo’s singing is perfect. Hence why by the time you two make it to your destination your cheeks hurt from how hard you’d been smiling and you can hardly remember the last time a guy, aside from Choso, has made you laugh this much.

The shop he takes you to is rather… pricey, you note as the two of you stroll through together. And yeah, most of the shelves are cleared off and whatever’s left isn’t anything super creative. Gojo guides you to the back of the store though and you swear he had this all planned out in his head with the way he leads you straight to a particularly cute couples costume.

“Y’know,” You start off, picking up the clearly designated costume that stands out in contrast to the other last-minute options left on the surrounding shelves. “If you wanted us to wear matching costumes, you could’ve jus’ said something.”

When you glance back to Gojo, you notice the way he’s got a hand scratching the back of his neck and is looking off to the side nonchalauntly. “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about, sweets…” He hums, that faint pigment of pink coating his cheeks yet again.

You snort, “Really? So how is it that you’ve led me all the way back here and straight to the only decent costumes left in this store?” As you speak, you lift the two costume packages up and hold them out to showcase them to him. “Not to mention, they just so happen to be the only matching ones too.”

Gojo redirects his eyes to the items in your hand and he grins innocently. “This is a coincidence, really.” He chuckles, “I mean why would I—“ He stops himself mid-sentence at the look you’re giving him and just ends up sighing in defeat. “Okay, okay, fine,” His hands went up, “Ya’ caught me.”

You smile, “Mhm, I know. Now, are you gonna go ahead ‘n ask me to match with you orr…?”

His shoulders sink a bit, “Do I have tooo? You’re already holding the costumes, are you really gonna make me ask—“

“Yep,” You hum in response with a mocking pop of the ‘p’.

Gojo scoffs playfully. “Fine.” He starts, stepping closer to you, “Do you wanna be the cowgirl to my cowboy and y’know, ride throughout this Halloween night with me?”

There’s half a beat of silence that passes after the cheesiness that just left his lips before you burst out laughing. “You’re so corny, oh my God.” You snicker out in an airy tone.

He joins your giggling with his own and then tips his head to the side, “So is that a yes orrrr…?”

Rolling your eyes, you nod. “Yeah, I’ll be the cowgirl to your cowboy tonight, Satoru.” Then you hand him his designated costume and brush past him.

Gojo clenches his fist and brings it down to himself in celebration, whispering a little, “Yess.” To himself childishly while you make your way to the nearby dressing room.

There were other last minute costumes that’d caught your eye on your way to the back of the store but, you think you’re pretty content with the cowgirl costume you end up putting on. Sure, you passed the classics like witches, cheerleaders, vampires, ghosts, etc… but this costume fits you so well that it’s almost as if it were made for you.

It fits your body almost like a leather glove but without being too uncomfortable or tight. It’s a top and bottom set—mostly consisting of black and an accenting hint of red here and there.

Once you get it on, your body is quickly flattered by the fabric. The top is long sleeved, cropped up high, and has a knot that ties right in the lower center of your chest with a vest that has these sparkly red stars on it. Then there’s the sorry excuse for shorts accompanying the top, that’s decorated with this semi-chunky belt with matching sparkly red stars. Lastly were the boots and hat, both black with hints of red, that completed the look.

And once you got a glance of yourself in the nearby mirror, you were gagged by how good you look. You spun around to get a full view of yourself, noticing the hug that the shorts have on your ass, shaping you perfectly. Hell, you almost never wanna take this damn thing off. And contrastingly enough, part of you is a bit self-conscious to actually go out like this.

It’s not until you take a deep breath and step out of the dressing room that your confidence returns to you with the wolf-whistle you recieve from Gojo. Your eyes had been somewhere on the floor until you heard the sound he let out, lifting your gaze to find him slouching back against some chair he managed to find and pull up. He’s got his legs all spread like some slut (not that you’d ever say this aloud, of course) and you don’t think there’s a single thought of innocence in your head as you take in the sight of him.

His costume is matching yours but, there’s a lot less skin showing, obviously. The shirt he has on is rolled up to his elbows and he’s got a teasing amount of his chest revealed—matching you with that low v-cut top you have, except his shirt is just a bunch of buttons undone.

His lower half is your typical pair of cowboy pants, all snug against his thighs, fabric straining over his muscles, and—

“Eyes up here sweets’,” Gojo says with a snap of his fingers. You flinch and revert your gaze to his face, gulping at the way he’d caught your gaze trailing elsewhere. “There she is,” He purrs, motioning with two fingers for you to walk toward him, “C’mere. Lemme get a better look at’cha.”

You almost awkwardly shuffle over to him, shyly covering your exposed midsection and trying to calm the pounding of your heart with each step you take. “Satoru, d-don’t you think this is a bit…” You hate how nervous you are right now, as if he hasn’t seen you with less clothes before.

Once you find yourself standing right in between his legs, he peers up at you with that ridiculously handsome smile of his. “A bit what?” Gojo hushes out as he reaches forward and moves your arms out the way to expose all of you to his greedy eyes. “I think you look perfect, like always.” He practically whispers, leaning forward and planting an all too affectionate kiss onto your stomach.

You flinch again and instinctively move your hand to his shoulder to push him back a bit, “Thank you but, I feel exposed.”

He acts as though you shoved him back, slumping into the chair like he was before and giving you this lovestruck expression as he meets your eyes. “S’okay,” Gojo tells you, “I’m sure there’ll be a lot more people wearing a lot less tonight so, you’ll feel more comfortable once we’re there.”

You give him a little nod in response and he moves his hands to trace your hips, feeling the tight fabric of your shorts beneath his fingertips and taking a deep breath.

“And if not,” He moves to stand up and you’re reminded of the height difference between you two all over again. “I’ll give you my jacket or something, okay?”

Nodding again, you feel so safe beneath his gaze—almost like nothing else really matters when you’re around him.

Once that’s all been settled, you and Gojo leave the costume shop. You forget to question him about how the hell you two were able to leave without paying for anything but, the rest of the night takes over all those questions you love asking him so much.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

Before you even know it, you’re pulling up to this huge house, distant thumping sounds of music and giggles heard throughout the air as Gojo parks his car not too far off. There’s vehicles placed all down the street, people all over the front yard, some just hanging out and others taking pictures or even making out.

It’s been a while since you last attended a party but, the sight of multiple skimpy outfits brings you a sense of comfort as soon as you step out of the car. The music from the house is so loud that you can’t even make out what song is playing right now due to the bass. Even so, Gojo quickly approaches your side and rightfully places his arm over your shoulder like he did earlier, keeping you nice and close to him while the two of you make way for the entrance.

The atmosphere is overly lively. You can hear and see people laughing, talking, dancing, drinking, etc. The music vibrates off of the house walls as you and Gojo walk in, shuffling past hella people just to make it fully inside. The house-, mansion, really, is packed with semi-drunk college students and you’re quickly reminded why you don’t surround yourself with party goers almost every weekend like you used to.

There’s definitely heads turning as you and Gojo navigate through the crowd of people but, you can’t really tell if that’s because of him or you.

You would’ve loved to say that Gojo was the most attractive man there but… it’s really hard to say that when you’re quickly stopped by some tall polished blonde man wearing a priest costume. Ignoring the way Gojo’s got an arm around your shoulder entirely, this guy grins at you kindly and he’s got the prettiest honey brown eyes taking in all of you as he leans toward you to voice a compliment.

“Beautiful costume,” The man says to you simply. From where you and Gojo had made it to, the music wasn’t overwhelming and you could actually talk to someone without yelling or leaning in too close.

Naturally, you smile in thanks and give him a little nod. “Thank you, I like yours as well. You’re a priest, right—“

“Nanami!” Gojo beams beside you, unconsciously telling you the name of the blonde man you were seconds away from making casual conversation with. “The hell are you doin’ here?” He asks in a taunting tone.

Nanami’s face flicks into something tired at the mere sound of Gojo’s voice. “I should be asking you that, Gojo. You’re supposed to be at work right now.” He says sternly.

Gojo chuckles lightly, “Oh don’t be like that, boss.” He says, taking his arm from around you and moving to tap Nanami on his arm, “It’s Halloween!”

Nanami sighs. “Yes, yes, I know. That’s why I’m not upset or anything but, you could’ve sent a text. I’d like to be aware of whether or not my cafe’s closing early.”

It suddenly clicks for you that Nanami owns that beloved cafe you visit practically everyday—something which, getting a good look at his chiseled face, just fits him. Nanami is exactly what you imagined Gojo’s boss looking like, honestly. The only thing surprising you here is the fact that he’s around the same age.

You’re about to say something to insert yourself back into the conversation but you’re interrupted by a familiar voice. “Oh my God, Satoru! You made it!!” Hori says overly cheerful.

By the time you turn your head to spot her, her arms are wrapping around Gojo’s waist and she’s hugging him tightly. Gojo hugs her back with one arm and forces a friendly smile onto his face.

“Hey Hori,” Gojo greets rather plainly. “Are you dressed as a… bunny?” He asks as he looks down at her within his grasp. You couldn’t really see her because of the way she was hugging Gojo but that didn’t bother you too much when Nanami steals your attention away with a light tap.

“I didn’t get your name,” He says to you, having leaned in a bit so that you could hear him clearly.

“Oh,” You chirp before extending a hand out and voicing your name to him. Nanami nods as he shakes your hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Nanami.” You greet officially.

He grins kindheartedly, “The pleasure is all mine, honestly.”

There’s a moment of prolonged handshaking before someone bumps into Nanami’s arm and your hands disconnect. You both look to see who it is and you’re met with this brown haired guy dressed as some kind of criminal (?). Tugging the skimask up off of his face, your eyes are greeted with a very contrasting face. He’s got these big doe-like eyes and his features scream innocence in a way.

“Woah, you’re pretty,” He chuckles, clearly tipsy off of whatever drink seems to be held in his left hand. “Y’Mind if I get your number?”

Your eyes go wide at his straightforwardness and all you do is smile at first. “Uh, I’m actually…” You slowly glance to where Gojo is, only to find that he’s been dragged elsewhere with Hori. You see his a peek of his snowy white hair amid the crowd and your shoulders slump a bit at how quickly he just left your side. Turning back to the brunette male, you nod, “Y’know what, yeah, sure.”

Nanami clears his throat and his phone is held out soon, “Me too actually,” He chimes in.

With that, you're entering your number into the two guy’s phones and then handing their devices back to them. The brunette soon informs you that his name is Ino and the three of you stand there making small talk for a bit.

It’s mildly concerning that Gojo just left you like that but you distract yourself with the two men talking to you at the moment.

After chatting with them for a bit, they eventually part ways with you and you navigate your way through the sea of party people alone. There’s not a single familiar face throughout the crowd and it’s not until you notice you’re getting stares from people that you start feeling self conscious again.

You thought that maybe if you made your way to the dance floor and vibed by yourself for a bit, you’d be fine. But, you don’t even make it that far because somewhere throughout your shuffling through people, someone grabs a light hold of your arm and pulls you out of the crowd.

You stumble into step to see who the hell decided to grab you like that. It wasn’t aggressive or anything but it was concerning since you’ve only seen unrecognizable people thus far.

“Finally a familiar face,” The sound of Utahime’s voice hits your ears and she’s turning to face you after pulling you far away enough to talk to you. “Y’know how long I was in that damn crowd looking for literally anyone I knew? I’m so glad I found you.” She says with a sigh.

Your chest feels light as you drink in her wearing a cheerleader costume. “I’m glad you found me too, I was walking around here for maybe ten minutes or so.” You explain.

She rolls her eyes, “I thought you came here with Gojo? Did that asshole ditch you?”

You’re quick to shake your head. “Nono, he didn’t ditch me! I think Hori pulled him off earlier and I was talking with these other guys so we just got separated. Any longer in that crowd and I would’ve called him.”

Utahime pauses for a second while she gathers your words. Then, her expression changes and she smiles at you. “Oh, okay. I was just making sure because Gojo can be a real dickhead sometimes.”

“Think so?” You end up asking. This was the first time you’d heard anything remotely negative about him so, of course your curiosity is piqued.

“Yeah.” She replies, clearly having no intention of going further into an explanation at the moment. Then, with a sigh, she allows her eyes to drop down along your figure. Utahime lets out a small up and her head tilts, “Anyway, you look good—love the costume.” She compliments, her tone light and almost flirtatious.

Though, you could totally be misinterpreting things. “Oh, thank you! I love yours too, it fits you nicely.” Your returned compliment makes her smile and she allows her arms to fold beneath her chest.

“Aww, thanks. I think I—“

“Utahime!!” And there she is again… Hori. Cutting off yet another conversation and spawning into the scene out of seemingly nowhere, dressed as Regina George’s sorry excuse of a bunny from Mean Girls 1 (which is fitting since she’s blonde as well), Hori’s all smiley and her cheeks are lightly flushed. “I was looking for you everywhere. Where’d you run off to?!” She huffs as her arms wrap around Utahime’s singular arm and her head comes to rest on her shoulder.

Utahime says something to respond but all words and sound practically dies out in your ears as a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind and a fluffy head of hair rests on your left shoulder. Flinching at the sudden contact, you don’t even get the chance to say anything before lips are grazing your ear and a familiar spread of warmth is brushing at your skin.

“Was lookin’ for ya’ everywhere, sweets.” Gojo hushes out into your ear. “God, you smell so good,” His voice lowers and the arms around your waist begin to shift along with his head. The tip of his nose is soon felt burying itself into the crook of your neck and he inhales sharply while his slender fingers smooth over the exposed skin of your waist.

Your body tenses up due to all the sudden touches but, a smile is sparking across your lips before you even realize it. “Thank you, Satoru. And, I was looking for you too… for like, ten minutes actually.” You inform him, earning a gruff little hum in response. “You invited me here ‘n then left me in less than five minutes…”

Gojo grimaces once the mentioning of his departure hits his ears. He sighs into your skin before pressing a small kiss at it, “M’sorry. First Hori pulled me away to find Suguru, and then some other people came pulling me along… I should’ve come back for ya’, my bad.”

You lean back against his touch a bit and your back becomes flush with his chest, “It’s okay, I’m glad you found me.”

“Yeahhh,” He sighs. For a second, you begin to wonder if he’s drunk with how sly his words seem to fall off of his tongue. “To make up for it though.. We could go—“

“Lemme guess, dance?” You cut off, recalling the last party you went to with him and how the same exact thing happened then. He really was a people magnet all around, huh?

Chuckling, Gojo gives your body a small tug and your ass is brought back toward his crotch. “You know it,” He says cheekily as he lifts his head from your neck and then drops his hands to your hips. It’s swift the way he spins you around to face him, your hands soon finding place on his chest and your eyes meeting his pretty blue ones. After which, he allows his hands to sneak behind you and grab a nice handful of your ass within his palm.

Ultimately, you were left looking up at him all surprised and confused. Gojo is touchy, sure. He always has been but… he doesn’t normally touch you so intimately out in the open like this. It was different. Not that you minded it but, it left you to wonder who or what he wanted to showcase these touches off to…

His cheeks were similarly flushed to how Hori’s were when you last looked at her, again leading you to wonder if he’d dranken anything. “Satoru,” You call out gently, moving your hands to cup his cheek and lull his expression a bit closer to your own for better study. “Have you been drinking?”

Gojo’s eyes take a second to actually focus on you, which silently tells you all you need to know. “Juuuust a lil’, yeah.” He admits to you.

To which you frown, “You went off and drank without me too? Wowww.” Your voice is clearly dramatic but Gojo seems to pout anyway.

Leaning in to you, he rests his forehead against yours and his arms circulate your waist again as he hugs you properly. “I jus’ had like, one cup of somethin’.” Gojo explains, his voice softening whilst his lashes bat in an innocent manner.

You stare at him. “One cup and you’re tipsy already?” You say, releasing a soft fit of laughter.

Gojo scrunches up his face a bit and you feel like it’s just you and him in the room right now, despite sounds of people laughing and talking all loud surrounding the two of you. “Mhmm. I don’t drink too often ‘cause I can't really handle alcohol too well,” He explains to you with a slight clearing of his throat.

The distant sound of Tory Lanez’s ‘The Color Violet’ can be heard and it makes Gojo lift his head and glance back toward where most people are dancing and the music is at its loudest.

Your eyes remain up on the man, “Should I be worried?”

He looks at you again and smiles, his brows tweezing together. “What? No. I’ve been told I get clingy when I’m drunk but aside from that, I’ve never done anything… stupid, I guess.” You hum in acknowledgement and Gojo starts backing away, tugging you along with him before he motions toward the dance floor. “Now c’mon, I owe you a dance, don’t I?”

It takes you a second or two to allow your body to be pulled properly with him but after that, your hand ends up in his and he soon pulls you through the crowd of people.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

The music gradually gets louder and louder until it consumes the entirety of your senses. You could feel the vibrations of the bass within each step you took, the music blurred throughout your ears, and all the dancing and lingering smell of marijuana and alcohol truly gave you that party atmosphere you’d forgotten about over the years. Before you even realize it, Gojo’s got you somewhere lost amid groups and groups of people dancing, trailing you closest to him using the grasp he had on your hand until you were able to dance right with him.

In contrast to dancing at that gala with him, you feel a lot more at ease here (surprisingly). Instead of gentle sways and intimate slow dancing, it’s more of sensual rolling of bodies against one another and long lasting glances all up and down your body that make you feel warmer than you should be.

Gojo’s got his hands everywhere with little care as to who sees what. From your hips, following their structure and the way you sway them around and against him, to your waist, twirling you around so that your back is facing him one moment and then vice versa so he can gather all of your neon illuminated features.

His favorite bit of the dancing is very obviously when your back is facing him and you dance against him. It’s in the smooth rock of your hips against him that he gets lost in, eyes all casted downward on your lower half, watching the way you dance back against him. One moment he’s smiling and the next he’s genuinely dazed by you. Then again, it could’ve been the alcohol in his system that made all his senses feel heightened like that.

Gojo felt like he was high simply from dancing with you. So much so that at some point he had to ask you if he could go sit down for a bit because you were uh… causing a bit of stiffening to stir up in between his legs. Part of you wanted to tease him about how just a bit of grinding back on him had turned him on but, another part of you was ready to loosen up a bit and partake in some drinking of your own.

Nothing crazy of course but, you felt like you would be a little stiff in the crowd without Gojo by your side and if he wanted to go sit down but you wanted to continue dancing, you’d have to get some alcohol in you to lessen the tension in your body. As such, a small conversation between you and Gojo took place and he ended up pointing you toward the kitchen before letting you know he wouldn’t be too far off.

The house was huge but with the directions he gave you, you figured you’d be fine.

And honestly? You were fine navigating through people on your own this time. But just in case, Gojo did take it a step further and message you the same thing he’d told you (just in case you didn’t hear him perfectly enough over the music).

How considerate of him. You thought to yourself as you made your way down a hallway and toward the far off kitchen.

Upon entering the space, you spot a few people making their own drinks, smoking, or talking with a friend but ultimately it’s a lot more laid back in comparison to the dance floor you’d previously been on. This allows you a moment to breathe, exhaling softly as you make way for the first stack of red plastic cups you find.

As you find a decent space on the counter to prepare your stuff, you begin to replay the small events from this party in your head. Smiling, you realize how wonderful everything’s been going for you thus far. You met two guys who were really nice, one of whom seemed to be acquainted with Gojo, Utahime was really friendly with you, and then dancing with Gojo just felt… nice. It was almost like things had gone too good for you tonight. Well, safe for Hori repeatedly interrupting something for you and failing to even say hi to you.

It’s not like you were expecting her to but, it would’ve been nice. She was standing right in front of you. Twice.

But hey, maybe she didn’t even remember you and the small convo you had with her. After all, this is her party and she clearly knows a lot of people so there’s probably a million and one things occupying that brain of hers. Speaking of which, that small conversation you had with her reminds you… didn’t you invite—

“How much for a ride, princess?” Choso’s voice suddenly hits your ears and you practically flinch out of your skin.

Your elbow instinctively shoots back and you nudge him right in his stomach with a loud yelp, “Jesus-, fuck, Choso!” You spew out before clasping your hands over your mouth in response to the sound of surprise you’d let out. “Scared the hell outta’ me.”

He lets out a laugh in between some sort of cough, probably one provoked from your strike against him just now. Slowly, his coughing fades into a full on chuckle and you move your eyes to gather the sight of him behind you. He’s wearing red and black, his hair tied up into two messy pigtails using these red hair ties, and—holy shit. Choso’s dressed up as Garu from Pucca.

The realization makes you gasp dramatically as you turn around to face him fully. “Oh my God? Are you… Is that a Garu costume?!” You exclaim, moving your hands to his shirt and tugging him a bit close as you study the big red heart imprinted on the center of it.

Choso finally clears his throat and drops his eyes down to the way you’re pinching the hem of his shirt in between your fingers, “Uh, obviously?” He remarks sassily before lifting his gaze to your costume and cocking his head to the side. “And what are you supposed to be? A cowgirl?”

“Obviously,” You say mockingly. “Didn’t you just ask me how much for a ride like twenty seconds ago??”

His red gloved hand moves to brush your touch off of his shirt and then he smirks. “Yeah, ‘n you didn’t even answer, jus’ gave me a mean nudge to the gut…”

“You scared me!” You huff out to him.

Choso’s eyes settle firmly on the cleavage of your tits, not making any sort of attempt to avert his gaze as he talks to you, “I know.” His tone makes it seem as though he did that on purpose. “But I had to get back at you somehow. Who the hell invites their friend to a party and then makes no attempt to see if they’re still coming or if they even made it?”

Oh damn. You did kinda forget about him as soon as you got around Gojo… You don’t think Choso’s even crossed your mind again since earlier that morning. “Ohh uhm, sorry about that.” You say, a slight awkwardness drafting by mere seconds afterwards.

Choso gives you this loose nod of his head before stepping past you. “Yeah uhuh,” He hums casually whilst taking two of those red cups out from their stack. “Too distracted dancin’ with your partner to think about me, right?”

Your eyes follow him as he moves and you watch the way he fixes two drinks—one of them clearly for you. “He… He’s not my partner, Cho. I just—“

“No? But you two are matching,” He points out as he interrupts your next sentence. “Cowboy and Cowgirl too, how cute,” Then, Choso’s turning his head to look at you with this expression you can’t quite read as the next words leave his lips lowly. “Wonder if you’ll ride him the same way you did me.”

“What—“

He scoffs, “Yeah, y’gonna show him all the things you showed me?” He presses even further, taking a step away from preparing those drinks and toward you. Your body seems to not want to listen to you because you remain still and don’t even try to step back. Choso leans in close and angles his head to the side as his eyes remain dead set on yours, “Hm? Are you gonna beg him to fuck you the same way you begged for my cock that night?”

You’re left staring at him all speechless and dumbfounded, no sharp remarks to throw back at him, no attempts at arguing with him, just… nothing.

mlist | last chapter | next chapter |

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bittersw33t-lotus · 4 months ago

Text

Little Life

Ghosting Series pt. 3

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! Reader

Cw: pregnancy stuff, reader is female, cursing (let me know I I missed anything)

A/N: sorry if this is very short the chapters may be pretty short just so my motivation to keep writing can stay.

Part 2 here

“Alright hon, if you can lay on the bed and lift you shirt over you belly please.” Dr. Raven says, the woman pointing to the dull looking patient bed with thin paper lining fitted over the top.

You follow her words and sit down on the bed, the cushion was surprisingly comfortable to sit on. You bring your shirt up over your stomach stopping at your rib cage and lay back waiting for Raven to prepare for the scanning. You watch as she brings out a plastic bottle you assumed was the gel, as she opened the plastic cap as she looks at you. “Okay, I’m going to put this on your abdomen. Be prepared, this will be cold.” She says as she squeezes the bottle over your stomach, the bright translucent blue gel slithers out the opening and trails down towards your stomach.

The moment it makes contact with your skin, your stomach retracted back at the cold viscous material. You shudder a breath and laugh a bit. “You weren’t lying.” You joked as Raven smiled and chucked at your response.

“Always takes them by surprise.” She says before she finishes squeezing the bottle, pulling it away and closing the cap back on. Placing it down on the table beside her she grabs the transducer clicking a few buttons and the screen turns on. She places the nub against your abdomen and spread the gel around your stomach and looks at the screen seeing the scan coming through as she adjusts it to hover where your uterus is.

You watch the screen feeling a bit anxious as you watch trying to figure out exactly what you were seeing, after a couple seconds you soon immediately spot a little white blob. A baby.

“There it is. Your baby.” She tells you as you stare at the screen in awe. That’s really inside you. Your baby slowly growing by the second, yours and Simon’s baby.

“So tiny.” You say as Dr. Raven nods to your words.

“You’re only eight weeks currently, it looks like you and the baby are doing just fine so far, baby is healthy and growing, overall you’re both doing great. I’ll provide you with some prenatal vitamins for you to take. I did notice in your readings, your blood pressure is a bit high than we’d like it to be so I need you to make sure you’re not overworking yourself, do more things to keep you calm and not focus and do things that cause you such distress if that’s possible. Other than that, you’re all set and good to go. Do you have any questions for me?” Dr. Raven says as she takes a few pictures of the scan to print out for you.

You breathe out in relief, the baby is all good. You figured the high blood pressure was definitely caused by the whole situation with Simon so you don’t know how you can make yourself forget about it, on top of that you’ve also been worried about finding a place to live and trying to figure out your financial situation now with Simon out of the picture. You take a deep breath and nod at Dr. Ravens advice. “I’ll be sure not to.” You tell her with a small smile as she hands you a paper towel to wipe off the gel, which you take.

“Would you be comfortable with telling me about the cause for your mental or physical wellbeing may be? Anything that maybe I could help you with if possible.” She asks you; you can spot the concern in her eyes when she brings it up.

You shake your head and ignore the feeling you felt as she brings it up but regardless you smile and shake your head. “Just trying to deal with not having the father in the picture. He decided he didn't want to be around." You tell her as she nods, understanding your words.

"I'm sorry to hear that." She tells you as you simply shrug your shoulders pulling you shirt back down.

"it's fine, think we'll be better off without him anyways.” You tell her. It's true, to an extent, at least that’s what keep telling yourself. You know you can do this all on your own. It won't be easy, but you hope you can manage. But deep down, you know you'll never be okay not having him by your side. He’ll miss out on so much, like watching your baby grow, learning and growing along with the baby as that baby also learns from you. You both won’t grow old together like you both wanted, with a bunch of animals, but with the baby included, maybe one or two more if things had worked out in the end.

You finish up the remaining paper work you had to sign and received your vitamins. Dr. Raven hands the ultrasound pictures to you in a white envelope and you make your way back to the lobby where Jared waited, still sitting and reading the pamphlets. He looks up as he notices you approaching and smiles as he stands up. “How’d it go?” He asks you.

You hold up the envelope with a smile. “It was great, got to see the baby, doctor said that they’re healthy and everything looks good thankfully. Just have to focus on not stressing myself out so much.” You tell him as you both make your way out of the building and into the parking lot.

“That’s great to hear. I’m sure Stacy already told you but she has a surprise in stock for you but she’s wondering if you have anything nice to wear.” He asks you as you approach the car.

Opening the car door you think for a minute before you nodded. “Yeah, I should.” You tell him. You’re sure you can find something. You took everything with you when you left Simon’s place, all your things are still in boxes save for the necessities that you need, but you’re sure you can find something.

On the drive back you spent the entire car ride back home staring and looking at the ultrasound picture, the little blob that you still couldn’t grasp was your baby, just still needed some more months to grow before you can meet them and that made you anxious. You don’t think you could wait that long.

“What’re you hoping for?” Jared asks you, steering the wheel as he switches to the next lane, glancing at the photos in your hand.

You think about it for a moment, it hasn’t crossed your mind surprisingly. Either one would be great, there was a moment where you dreamt of having a baby girl with Simon. You can’t lie, the sight of Simon being a girl dad made you all giddy and warm. Then thinking about a little boy, one that looked like a copy and paste of Simon would be so cute. You smile as the possibilities ran through your head, of course you’re just being delusional, you wouldn’t be able to see that happen ever. Just a thought in the back of your mind.

“Honestly either would be great. I don’t mind what I have, as long as the baby is healthy that’s enough for me.” You say tucking the photos into your purse, holding it close to you.

Jared smiled and nodded. “Sounds great, you’ll make a great mother. I’m sure of it.” He says to you as you smile, the reassurance from Jared was something you didn’t know you needed but greatly appreciated.

“Thanks.” You say to him, before you know it you’ve finally made it back home.

Once you arrived home you got out the car and walked into the house. Right away Stacy approached you with a smile.

“How’d it go?” She asks you as she gets up from the soft couch and walking over towards you and Jared.

You pull out the envelope and pull out the multiple pictures and hand them out for her. Upon seeing them she awe’s as she examined the little bean like fetus. “Little baby.” She coos before looking at you. “How far along are you?” She asks you.

“Eight weeks. I’ll be able to see the baby’s gender by fourteen weeks.” You tell her as she hands back the photos to you. Placing them in you bag you can see Stacy smile as she walks towards the island counter of in the kitchen. “Oh, what was that surprise you had in store?” You ask her.

She props herself up on the counter with her elbows and looks at the time. “We decided to treat you to dinner tonight. We have a reservation set for six tonight. You feeling up for it?” She asks you.

You take a moment to think and nod your head a bit excited to hear you’ll be eating at a restaurant feeling your hormones go crazed at the thought of food. “Yeah, I’ll get ready now.” You tell her with a wide smile. You haven’t eaten out at a restaurant in a long time. Last time you went was with Simon for the last anniversary together.

Making your way to your ‘room’ you take out a box with your fancier clothes. Opening the box you pull out multiple tops, bottoms, and dresses. Finally choosing one you like you slip the dress on and admire yourself in the mirror. You bump is bulging out a bit, you take the time to admire it.

You took the time to shower, do your make up and get dressed right on time. Stacy looked at your outfit as you did a 360 showing off your outfit. “You’re not even half way into pregnancy and already look like a milf.” Stacy jokes, you laugh as you grab your purse.

“Don’t tell me lies Stace.” You tell her as she shrugs her shoulder.

“I only tell the truth.” She says as you both walk out the door and towards the already running car where Jared sat in waiting for you two.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

A click from the lock sounds from the front door as it swings open. Simon’s bulking frame walks through the door as he scans the house. It’s dark and eerily silent.

When Simon came back, he felt like shit. His heart dreaded coming home to see your answer. He hoped you stayed, at least long enough till he came back, he planned to move out the house and leave it for you if you decided to keep the baby. It would give him a peace of mind to know where you were and know that you and the kid were safe, and you could use the extra room and space for the baby. But, even if you got rid of it, he doesn’t know if your relationship could ever be the same.

However your answer was first made clear when your car not in the drive way. His heart dropped but he took a deep breath, ‘Maybe she’s at the store.’ He thought. He hadn’t texted you either to let him know he was coming home today, he couldn’t bring himself too.

You’re not here. It’s something Simon suspected but he still feels dread overcome him as he steps into the house and notices the little things around the house that belonged to you were gone. Your shoes were gone, your car keys, the blanket you left on the couch is gone. He walks into your shared bedroom, which is now his bedroom, opening the door and he’s stunned with how much of an eye sore it is. His room is so plain now, like how it looked before you moved in with him.

He remembers how much you wanted to decorate the place, especially the bedroom, you hated how lifeless the whole house looked. It didn’t take much to convince him to let you decorate saying , “Go crazy.” And you did. Literally. You decorated adding a touch of you but keeping it to an extent to not overwhelm Simon. You hung up a few decorations and posters in the bed room of bands you and Simon both loved. A few shelves displaying your books and trinkets. Your touch added to his home making it more like home for him. Like you were his home. He liked, loved it if he dare say, he worried you would over do the place but it look perfect. Like you.

But now as he looked around the house, he sees the walls are bare and plain. He feels plain now, empty. Sad. He looks through your closet and drawers only to find them completely bare and empty.

He walks into the living room notices your shoes are gonna as well from the rack, and the little table beside the front door, he noticed the white folded paper on the little ceramic plate that held their keys, walking over he pick up the paper seeing his name written on it in your hand writing, unfolding it reveals page with your writing inked into the material.

‘I know we made a promise but this is something that takes two to do, accidents happen and I know you never wanted children and you knew it was still on the table for me, I’m thankful that you gave me a choice, even if it wasn’t easy. I don’t want to drag you into something you never wanted but it still hurts that I have to chose between you and this baby. I figured it was best for the both of us if I left, you can keep your home and I can keep my baby. I hope you stay safe out there Simon and please take care of yourself. I still and always will love you and I’m sorry.’ Simon checked the back of the paper for anything else but it was empty. You didn’t say where or what you were going to do and it scared Simon. Were you safe, do you have a place to stay, do you have people to help?

He knew you weren’t really in any contact with your family, your only friends were Johnny, Gaz, and Price. His ‘friends’ were yours. For the most part Simon knew you didn’t have anyone to help you or look after you and the baby. “Fuck!”

Taglist <3

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#cod mw2 x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 ghost x reader #cod mwii x reader #simon ghost riley x you

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amkyor · 2 months ago

Note

Heya! Some ideas for mha guys reacting to:

Reader using a pickup line on them

Reader comforting them after a nightmare

Reader saying "I love you" for the first time

Reader giving them a handmade gift

Reader pranking them

MHA GUYS REACT TO...

Reader using a pickup line on them ᡣ𐭩

Short note: I'm sorry if most of them aren't pickup lines, I just didn't want to use cheesy lines like that :) I will be doing all of the suggestions though. Stay tuned!! Also, chapter 21 of my bakguo x Reader Fanfiction came out yesterday. Go check it out!! Link is that the very end of this post!!

Katsuki Bakugo ᡣ𐭩

The soft clinking of pots and pans filled the kitchen as Bakugo stood at the stove, focused on dinner.

His broad back was turned to you, muscles subtly flexing beneath the fabric of his shirt with each movement.

You were sprawled out on the couch in the living room, but the sight of him—effortlessly domestic yet somehow still rugged—was too tempting to resist.

The sight of him—focused, composed, and utterly unbothered by the domestic task—was oddly mesmerizing.

You watched him for a moment, the way his broad shoulders flexed with each movement, his ash-blond hair sticking up in its usual chaotic way.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you thought about how far you’d both come, from chaotic high school days to quiet moments like this.

Unable to resist, you got up from the couch and made your way to the kitchen.

As you approached, you leaned against the doorway and crossed your arms, watching him for another moment.

“You know,” you started, your voice breaking the silence, “you’re surprisingly good at this cooking thing. Who knew the big aggressive Katsuki Bakugo would be so…domesticated.”

He didn’t turn around, but you could see the corner of his lips twitch. “Shut it, woman,” he muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite.

“I’ve always been good at everything. Don’t act so surprised.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, stepping closer. “But cooking? I thought explosions were more your style.”

He glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at you. “Cooking’s just another kind of chemistry, dumbass. And unlike you, I don’t burn water.”

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “Excuse me! I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable in the kitchen.”

“Sure you are,” he said, turning back to his pan with a low chuckle.

“Whatever,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

After a few seconds, you stepped closer to him, the sound of your footsteps muted against the floor as you approached him.

Closing the distance, you slipped your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.

His body tensed slightly at the contact before relaxing when he realized what was going on.

“Do you always look this hot while cooking,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing, “or is it just the stove?”

For a moment, Bakugo froze. His hand, mid-motion stirring a pan, stopped abruptly.

You could feel the slight hitch in his breathing, and you knew you’d caught him off guard.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he muttered under his breath, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

Without responding further, he reached over and turned off the stove with a decisive flick of his wrist.

Before you could react, he spun around to face you, his crimson eyes locking with yours.

His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his gaze sent a wave of heat through your body.

“What are you—” you started, but he didn’t let you finish.

In one swift motion, Bakugo leaned down, wrapped his arms around your wasit and thigh, and effortlessly lifted you off the ground.

A surprised laugh escaped your lips as he carried you over to the kitchen counter.

He set you down gently, his hands bracketing your thighs as he leaned in close.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

His face was inches from yours, his smirk equal parts cocky and affectionate.

“I don’t think,” you replied, matching his tone. “I know.”

He let out a quiet scoff before closing the distance between you.

His lips captured yours in a deep, heated kiss that sent your heart racing.

His hands stayed firmly planted on either side of your thighs, keeping you right where he wanted you.

The kiss was over too quickly, though, as Bakugo pulled back, his lips barely brushing yours. “Stay put,” he muttered, his voice a little hoarser than usual.

You blinked, still reeling from the kiss, as he turned back to the stove.

Casually, as if nothing had happened, he turned the burner back on and resumed cooking.

“Seriously?” you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.

He glanced at you over his shoulder, a small, smug grin tugging at his lips. “What? Gotta finish dinner, don’t I?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re distracting,” he shot back, his tone light but still carrying that signature Bakugo edge.

Despite his words, you could see the faint blush dusting his cheeks, and it made your heart swell.

You stayed perched on the counter, watching him cook, a smile playing on your lips.

Even when he was gruff and tough, there were moments like this that reminded you just how much he cared.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

Izuku Midoriya ᡣ𐭩

The dim glow of the television bathed the living room in a soft, warm light.

The faint hum of background music filled the air, mingling with the soothing rustle of pages as you turned another in the book resting in your hands.

It was one of those quiet, perfect evenings—the kind you cherished most.

Izuku lay sprawled between your legs, his broad frame draped over you like a human-sized weighted blanket.

His head rested comfortably against your chest, rising and falling with each steady breath you took.

His arms were wrapped securely around your waist, and his fingers splayed lazily across your back as if anchoring himself to you.

Your legs stretched out on the couch, framing him on either side.

The soft fabric of his shirt brushed against your skin with every slight movement he made.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in this position, but neither of you seemed in any hurry to move.

With your free hand, you absentmindedly scratched at his scalp, your nails trailing through his unruly green curls in slow, gentle strokes.

Each time your fingers grazed his scalp, you felt him relax further into you, his body melting into yours like he was made to fit there.

The weight of him against you was comforting, grounding, and you couldn’t help but smile as you continued reading.

Well, “reading” might’ve been a stretch.

You’d been stuck on the same page for the past five minutes, distracted by the soft, contented hums Izuku made whenever your nails caught just the right spot.

He hadn’t said much since he collapsed onto you, but you could tell he was enjoying himself.

His breathing was slow and even, a telltale sign that he was teetering on the edge of sleep.

You glanced down at him, your gaze drifting from the slight pout of his lips to the faint pink dusting his cheeks.

His freckles stood out even more in the dim light, scattered across his face like a constellation you’d memorized long ago.

You raised your book slightly, letting it rest against the couch as you took in the sight of him.

He looked so peaceful, so utterly at ease, that you almost didn’t want to disturb him. Almost.

“You tired?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to startle him.

“Mhm...” he hummed, his eyes still closed as he nuzzled further into your chest.

The sound was low and warm, vibrating against you like a gentle purr.

Your heart swelled at the sight of him, his lashes fluttering slightly as if he were fighting to stay awake.

You continued scratching his head, your fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles.

You knew how hard he worked and how much he pushed himself every day.

Seeing him like this—relaxed, vulnerable, and utterly content—felt like a rare gift.

He shifted slightly, tightening his hold on your waist as though he were afraid you might slip away.

The action made your chest ache in the best way, and you couldn’t help but brush a soft kiss against the crown of his head.

You studied his face for a moment longer, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips as an idea popped into your head.

You couldn’t resist.

"You know," you began playfully, your voice teasing and light...

You smiled softly, the corners of your lips curling upward as you gazed at Izuku’s serene face.

The moment felt suspended in time, wrapped in the tender quiet of the living room.

The faint glow of the television cast shifting shadows across his features, making him look even softer than usual.

With a warm chuckle, you let the words slip from your lips, their sincerity surprising even you. “I don’t know what it is, but you have this way of making everything around you feel softer.”

Izuku’s eyes fluttered open at your voice, blinking slowly as he adjusted to the light.

His emerald gaze, still slightly hazy with the remnants of sleep, met yours.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable yet filled with an unspoken tenderness.

You felt your cheeks heat under his gaze, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you leaned a little closer, your fingers still trailing through his hair as you added softly, “How are you so good at making ordinary moments feel special?”

Your chuckle was light, almost self-conscious, but genuine. It broke the silence like a gentle ripple across still water.

Izuku’s reaction was immediate and heartwarming.

His cheeks flushed a deep pink, the color spreading all the way to the tips of his ears.

His lips parted slightly, as though he wanted to respond, but no words came out at first.

Instead, he buried his face further into your chest, letting out a muffled groan.

“Y-You can’t just say things like that,” he mumbled, his voice low and slightly hoarse.

Despite the protest in his words, there was no mistaking the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, the sound light and melodic in the quiet room. “Why not? It’s true,” you teased, your tone playful but laced with sincerity.

Izuku lifted his head slightly, just enough to look up at you. His eyes were impossibly soft, brimming with affection that made your chest tighten.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you replied, your hand moving to cup his cheek.

His skin was warm under your touch, and he leaned into your palm instinctively, like a sunflower seeking the sun.

“I just wanted you to know.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The room was filled only with the soft hum of the television and the gentle rhythm of your breathing.

Izuku’s hand found yours where it rested against his cheek, his fingers curling around yours as if anchoring himself to the moment.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it. “For saying that. For... being you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Always,” you whispered against his skin.

Izuku’s arms tightened around your waist as he buried his face against your chest once more.

“You’re the one who makes everything feel special,” he murmured, his voice muffled but no less sincere.

You smiled, your fingers resuming their comforting motion through his hair.

The weight of his words settled over you like a warm blanket, and you realized that no matter how ordinary the moment, being with him made it extraordinary.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

Shoto Todoroki ᡣ𐭩

The warm glow of the small lamp in the corner of the room cast soft, golden hues across the walls, giving the space a cozy and intimate ambiance.

You were seated on the floor in your apartment, cross-legged on the plush rug, with Todoroki sitting directly across from you.

His mismatched eyes watched you curiously, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips as he observed the items you’d brought back from the bathroom.

In your hands were two face masks—both contained in sleek, colorful pouches—and a pair of headbands.

You had been gifted the masks a few days ago by a friend who swore they were amazing for relaxation, and the idea of doing them with Todoroki had popped into your head immediately.

Surprisingly, he had agreed without hesitation, his calm demeanor making it clear he didn’t mind indulging you in small things like this.

"Alright," you said, breaking the silence as you placed everything on the floor between you. "First things first, we need to keep our hair out of the way."

Todoroki’s gaze shifted to the headbands, his brows furrowing slightly. “We’re wearing those?” he asked, his tone neutral but laced with faint curiosity.

You chuckled, holding one up for him to see. “Yes, we are. Unless you want face mask goo in your hair, which I’m guessing you don’t.”

He tilted his head slightly, considering your words before nodding. “Fair enough.”

With a smile, you picked up the other headband and slipped it over your own head.

The stretchy fabric was soft against your skin as you carefully positioned it, pulling back the strands of your hair that framed your face.

You adjusted it a few times, making sure it sat just right, and then tucked any loose pieces behind your ears.

“There,” you said, sitting back and giving him a small grin. “See? Easy.”

Todoroki watched you intently, his heterochromatic eyes following your movements as if committing every detail to memory.

Though his expression remained composed, you could tell he was slightly intrigued by the whole process.

“You look cute,” he said suddenly, his tone as straightforward as ever but carrying a certain warmth that made your cheeks flush.

You laughed softly, brushing off the compliment as you reached for the second headband.

“It’s just a headband, Shoto,” you teased, though you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

He shrugged, leaning forward slightly as you prepared to hand him the other headband.

“Still,” he said simply, and the sincerity in his voice made your heart skip a beat.

Shaking off the sudden flutter in your chest, you turned your focus back to the task at hand, ready to guide him through the next step in your little self-care ritual.

You handed Todoroki the second headband, watching as he stared at it like it was some foreign object. “Just put it on like I did,” you said, demonstrating with your hands how to stretch it out and slide it over your head. He gave a small nod and attempted to mimic your movements.

The result was… less than perfect.

The headband sat askew, one side bunched up near his temple, while the other was twisted and barely holding back his hair.

A few strands stubbornly stuck out, and the sight was so adorably Todoroki that you couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“You’re—” you tried to speak between giggles, “you’re not supposed to wear it like that!”

Todoroki blinked at you, completely unbothered by your amusement. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked, his tone as calm as ever.

You leaned forward, still chuckling. “Everything is wrong with it, Shoto. Here, let me fix it.”

Without waiting for his reply, you scooted closer and reached out to adjust the headband yourself.

He sat still as you worked, his eyes fixed on your face as your fingers carefully untangled the fabric and smoothed it over his head.

The world seemed to slow down as you pushed his hair back, revealing more of his face.

His dual-colored strands fell neatly under the band, and his forehead came into view, unencumbered by the usual fringe of hair.

Your movements faltered for just a moment as your eyes fell on his scar.

With his hair pulled away, it was more visible than ever, its jagged edges a stark contrast against his otherwise flawless skin.

You felt your breath catch in your throat, not out of discomfort but because of how striking he looked.

“There,” you whispered softly, finishing the adjustment and making sure the headband was sitting properly.

You were inches away from him now, your hands lingering near his face.

His mismatched eyes met yours, and for a second, neither of you moved.

Unable to help yourself, you let your fingertips brush against his cheek, your thumb instinctively tracing over the edge of his scar.

His skin was warm under your touch, and the texture of the scar was slightly raised but smooth.

“Shoto…” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

His eyes softened, and though he didn’t say anything, the way he leaned ever so slightly into your touch spoke volumes.

Todoroki’s mismatched eyes widened slightly at your words, the faintest hint of surprise flickering across his usually calm expression.

He blinked, as if trying to process the depth of what you’d just said.

For a moment, the room was silent save for the soft hum of the heater in the background.

You kept your hand on his cheek, your thumb brushing over his scar again as you offered him a warm smile. “I don’t see a flaw when I look at you; I see a story that’s made you who you are,” you said softly.

The weight of your words seemed to settle over him, and his lips parted slightly as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words.

“Scars are like badges of courage,” you continued, your voice filled with sincerity.

“I can tell you’ve faced something and come out stronger. That scar doesn’t take away from your beauty—it adds to it. It’s a part of you that makes you uniquely beautiful.”

His breath hitched almost imperceptibly, and you could see the faintest dusting of pink creeping up his neck and settling on his cheeks.

His gaze softened further, the hard lines of his face melting away into something so tender it made your chest ache.

“You really think that?” he finally asked, his voice low and slightly hoarse.

You nodded without hesitation. “I don’t just think it, Shoto—I know it.”

For a moment, he simply looked at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, slowly, his hand came up to rest over yours, the warmth of his palm enveloping your fingers.

He held your hand against his cheek, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a quiet gesture of gratitude and affection.

“You always know what to say,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… I’ve never really thought of it that way.”

“Well, you should,” you said with a small laugh, trying to ease the intensity of the moment. “You’re pretty amazing, Shoto. Scars and all.”

His lips curved into the smallest of smiles, a genuine one that reached his eyes. “I think you’re the amazing one,” he replied, his voice still soft but filled with a kind of reverence that made your heart skip a beat.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours. “Thank you,” he whispered, the words carrying more weight than you could have imagined.

You smiled back at him, feeling an overwhelming sense of warmth and love in the quiet intimacy of the moment. “Always,” you whispered back.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

Eijiro Kirishima ᡣ𐭩

It was a quiet evening, and the warm golden light of the bedside lamp cast a soft glow across the room.

You and Kirishima were sprawled out on the bed, each immersed in your own little worlds.

He was propped up against the headboard with a manga in his hands, his crimson hair slightly mussed from the day.

You lay on your stomach beside him, scrolling on your phone while your feet swayed lazily in the air.

The room was peaceful, the only sound being the occasional rustle of pages as Kirishima flipped through his book.

You glanced over at him, a small smile tugging at your lips as you admired how focused he looked, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration.

It was one of those quiet, cozy moments that you cherished, but your mischievous streak couldn’t resist stirring things up a bit.

An idea popped into your head, and you bit your bottom lip to keep from grinning too much. You shifted slightly, propping your chin on your hand as you turned your attention fully to him.

“Hey, Eiji,” you said, your voice light and playful.

Kirishima glanced up from his manga, his red eyes meeting yours. “Yeah, babe? What’s up?” he asked, his voice warm and affectionate as always.

You tilted your head, your smile growing wider. "Are you a ninja? Because you just snuck into my heart, believe it!" <those who know...>

For a moment, Kirishima just stared at you, blinking slowly as if trying to process what you had just said.

Then, his expression morphed into one of exaggerated disbelief, and he groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

"Babe, no." he said, his voice filled with mock horror. “That’s so corny.”

You burst out laughing, rolling onto your back as his reaction sent you into a fit of giggles. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad!” you said between laughs, looking up at him with teasing eyes.

Kirishima shook his head, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward in amusement.

“It was terrible,” he said, closing his manga and setting it aside. “Where do you even come up with this stuff?”

“Oh, you know,” you said, waving a hand dramatically. “I just have a natural talent for these things.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, leaning back against the headboard. “Yeah, sure. A talent for making me cringe.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “Cringe? That was romantic! You just don’t appreciate my artistry.”

Kirishima laughed, his deep, hearty chuckle filling the room. “Okay, okay. Let’s hear another one, then. Show me your so-called ‘artistry.’”

You grinned, sitting up slightly as you prepared your next line. “Alright, how about this: Are you a time traveler? Because I see you in my future.”

Kirishima groaned again, throwing his head back dramatically. “Stop, you’re killing me!”

You couldn’t help but laugh even harder, clutching your stomach as you watched him squirm. “Oh, come on! That was a good one!”

“It was something,” he said, shaking his head with a grin. “You’ve got more, don’t you?”

“Oh, you bet I do,” you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Okay, okay, here’s another: Are you a volcano? Because I lava you.”

Kirishima cringed so hard he practically slid down the bed, covering his face with his hands. “Babe, please. You’re gonna make my teeth fall out, this is so sweet it’s painful.”

You were laughing so hard at this point that you had to wipe a tear from the corner of your eye.

“Okay, last one, I promise,” you said, holding up your hands in mock surrender. You paused for dramatic effect, then said, “Are you a bank loan? Because you’ve got my interest.”

Kirishima groaned loudly, flopping onto his side and burying his face in the pillow. “I can’t take it anymore. You’re too much!”

You were laughing uncontrollably now, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much. “Admit it, Eiji,” you teased, poking his side. “You secretly love it.”

He turned his head to look at you, his crimson eyes soft and full of affection despite his exaggerated protests.

“I love you,” he said, his voice quieter now, a playful smirk on his lips. “But those pickup lines? Not so much.”

You grinned, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “Fair enough,” you said, still giggling. “But don’t think for a second that I’m done embarrassing you with them.”

Kirishima laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer.

“As long as it makes you happy, I guess I can survive a few more,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “Just... maybe not all in one night, okay?”

You laughed, snuggling into his side as the two of you settled back into the cozy quiet of the evening, your heart full from the simple joy of being with him.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

Denki Kaminari ᡣ𐭩

It had been a quiet, peaceful afternoon.

Denki and you were lounging in your shared living room, each of you doing your own thing.

He was sprawled out on the couch, his legs stretched across the cushions, while you sat comfortably on the floor, leaning against the coffee table.

The soft hum of the TV in the background was the only noise filling the room, besides the occasional shuffling of papers or the tapping of Denki’s fingers on his phone.

You were trying to focus on the book in your hands, but every now and then, you’d sneak a glance at Denki.

You couldn’t help it.

He had this lazy, carefree vibe that made him endearing, even when he wasn’t trying.

His hair was slightly messy, as usual, and the way he was sprawled out lazily on the couch made it clear he was in one of his “relaxing” moods.

As you turned the page, you heard a soft shift in the cushions beside you.

Glancing up, you saw Denki sitting up, that familiar cheeky grin spreading across his face.

You raised an eyebrow, already sensing what was coming.

His mischievous glint in his eyes was a dead giveaway, and you could practically hear him about to ask one of his signature ridiculous questions.

He leaned forward slightly, his arms coming to rest on his knees as he locked eyes with you, his grin growing wider.

“Hey,” he said, his voice carrying that playful edge you had come to know so well. “I’ve got a question for you.”

You sighed dramatically, not even bothering to hide your exhaustion at this point. You knew exactly what was coming.

“Please tell me you aren’t about to ask me another one of your insanely stupid questions,” you replied, setting your book down with a soft thud and looking at him with an almost exasperated expression.

Denki’s grin only grew wider, clearly amused by your response. “Aw, come on! You haven’t even heard it yet!” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself.

You knew there was no way you could resist him, not when he looked so ridiculously charming in that moment.

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but fine. What is it this time?” you asked, leaning back against the coffee table again.

Denki’s grin turned mischievous, and he stretched his arms above his head, as if preparing himself for the most profound question of his life.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his theatrics; he was such a goofball sometimes.

“Well, here it is,” Denki said, lowering his hands and leaning forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Are you ready for this?”

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued, but also already bracing yourself for whatever cheesy thing he was about to say.

"I'm not sure... but go ahead." you said, leaning back slightly, crossing your arms as you watched him.

He gave you a mischievous grin, clearly pleased with himself.

Then, he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a dramatic tone as he said, "Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips at the ridiculousness of it. "Seriously, Denki?" you said, trying to act unimpressed, but failing miserably.

"You’ve been sitting on that one, huh?" You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at his over-the-top delivery.

Denki sat back with a satisfied smirk, looking way too pleased with himself. “What? It’s a classic,” he said, clearly proud of his attempt. “You can’t deny it’s effective.”

You raised an eyebrow, an idea forming in your mind. “Alright, alright. If we’re going cheesy, let me show you how it’s done.”

You leaned in slightly, putting on an exaggerated, sultry tone, though you were doing your best to hold back a grin. “Are you French? Because Eiffel for you.”

Denki’s jaw dropped, clearly impressed, but he quickly recovered, giving you a playful eye roll. “Okay, okay, I see how it is. You wanna play with the big leagues, huh?”

You smirked, leaning back to get comfortable again. “I’m just getting started,” you said with a wink.

He chuckled and sat up straighter, his grin widening as he prepared himself.

“Alright, alright. Here’s one for you. Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got ‘FINE’ written all over you.”

You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest in mock shock. “Denki, no! That one was so bad.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “You’ve got to try harder than that.”

Denki threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just warming up! You’ll see. I’ve got a whole arsenal.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully, already thinking of your next move.

You leaned forward once more, this time lowering your voice just a little for dramatic effect. “Are you a campfire? Because you’re hot and I want s’more.”

Denki’s eyes widened, and you could see his thoughts race as he tried to come up with something equally cheesy in return.

His lips curled into a grin, but it was clear he was impressed. “Okay, okay, I see how this is going,” he said, shaking his head. “You’ve got some skills.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how competitive he was getting. “I told you,” you said, sitting back again, feeling pretty proud of yourself.

“You’ve got to bring your A-game if you want to keep up with me.”

Denki laughed, running a hand through his messy hair as he tried to think of something better. “Alright, alright. I’ve got the perfect one for you. Ready?”

He waited for you to nod, then leaned in with a smirk. “Is your name Google? Because you’ve got everything I’ve been searching for.”

You gasped dramatically, throwing a hand over your heart as though he’d just knocked you out with the most romantic line ever. “Okay, that was actually pretty okay. I’ll give it to you,” you said, laughing.

“You’ve won this round, I guess.”

Denki’s grin widened, clearly pleased with himself. “I knew I could get you with that one,” he said, leaning back against the couch, looking smug. “You can’t out-pickup-line me, babe.”

You playfully stuck your tongue out at him, still laughing. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll come up with something even better next time.”

You leaned in and added in a teasing tone, “You may have won this round, but I’m not done yet.”

Denki shook his head, chuckling. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve got in store. But for now, I think I’ve earned the title of Master of Pickup Lines.”

He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head with a relaxed smile.

You rolled your eyes again, but your heart was warm, knowing how much fun you were having with him.

“We’ll see about that,” you said, settling back into your spot on the floor and grabbing your book again.

Denki watched you for a moment, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I think I could sit here and do this with you all day. Just… hang out, make each other laugh.”

You smiled back at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I’m all for that,” you said, feeling incredibly lucky to have someone as goofy and sweet as him by your side.

For a moment, the room settled into a comfortable silence, the only sound the soft hum of the TV in the background.

You sat there, both of you content, knowing that even in the midst of the silliest games, the best moments came from just being together.

☆ ADULT BAKUGO FANFICTION ☆

259 notes · View notes

joemama-2 · 14 days ago

Text

a dead end | chap. 4

༺♰༻ gojo x fem reader

𓉸♱𓉸 synopsis: you were a star under stadium lights, gojo satoru a savior in sterile halls. now, the world rots, and survival is your only stage. amid the relentless dead and the horrors of the living, an unsteady bond forms—but trust is as fragile as life itself. in the shadows of ruin, love and death walk hand in hand. which will claim you first?

༺♰༻ wc: 7.8k

༺♰༻ tags/warnings: death, angst, violence, smut, cannibalism, murder, blood, gore, zombie apocalypse, crazy people, reader is a little bitchy at first, character development, torture, guns, weapons, alcohol, drugs, medical talk here and there, research talk, mentions of a leaked sextape, bullying, betrayal, lying, love, surgeon! satoru, cheerleader! reader, small age gap

༺♰༻ series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

The drive to his place was nothing short of insufferable. Not only did you practically scream at him to avoid the bodies littering the pavement of what once was a road. And not only did you have to remind him to drive slowly and vigilantly, but also to stay on the lookout for those things. He listened—sort of.

Chatting your ear off about the most mundane, irrelevant things. You would’ve thought he’s just an insane man who finds normalcy in a now fucked up world. However, the way sweat subtly trickled down from his hairline to his eyebrows before being wiped off, the way his Adam’s apple bobs with what you can only assume is feigned nervousness, and the rhythmic tapping of his finger on the steering wheel told you otherwise. You didn’t voice any of this aloud. Why would you? You barely even know this man.

His residence isn’t very far from this hospital, probably due to his occupation and the need to be on call and ready for any unforeseen emergencies. It’s a nice place—nicer than yours at least. You keep your saltiness to yourself—a two-story house that blends beautifully with a traditional style Japanese home, but also hints of modernity.

The exterior is a perfect blend of old and new—dark wooden panels, clean white walls, and a gently sloped roof that gives it an almost temple-like serenity. A stone pathway leads up to the entrance, lined with carefully placed lanterns that would’ve looked beautiful at night—if the world wasn’t falling apart. The front yard is surprisingly well-kept, though some fallen leaves scatter across the stone tiles, a sign that he hasn’t been home for at least a day or two. Gojo parks in the driveway, killing the engine before leaning back with a dramatic sigh. “Ah, home sweet home,” he drawls, stretching his arms over his head. “Did you enjoy our little road trip?”

You unbuckle your seatbelt, unimpressed. “No.”

He grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Brutal.”

Stepping out of the car, you take in the finer details of his home. The four-panel, glass front doors at the entrance slide rather than swing, framed by sleek black trim that complements the modern glass windows scattered across the façade. A small porch extends from the front, complete with a wooden bench and a wind chime that barely moves in the dead air. It’s the kind of house that exudes both quiet luxury and warmth—something you wouldn’t have expected from someone like him. You assumed big, loud—something that screams ‘I’m rich! Look at me!’. Well, maybe that all went to his personality.

You follow as Gojo unlocks the door and steps inside, flipping on the lights. “Welcome to Casa de Gojo,” he announces, kicking off his shoes.

The interior is just as polished as the exterior. Wide, open spaces with natural wood flooring and soft lighting. The living room is spacious, with a sunken seating area around a low, dark wood table. A modern sectional, black leather couch sits nearby, facing a flat-screen TV mounted above a fireplace that looks untouched. Built-in bookshelves line the walls, filled with a mix of medical texts, philosophy books, and an absurd number of manga volumes. Your eyes sweep across the space. The decor is minimal but intentional—warm-toned wood, neutral colors, and the occasional pop of blue that likely reflects his personal taste. There’s a quiet elegance to it all, but the subtle mess—an unfinished cup of coffee on the table, a jacket draped over the couch, a pair of house slippers kicked haphazardly near the entrance—suggests that while the house is expensive, Gojo himself isn’t overly meticulous.

He gestures grandly. “Make yourself at home. Just don’t go snooping in my room unless you wanna see something scandalous.”

You give him a flat look. “I doubt there’s anything in there worth seeing.”

Gojo gasps, clutching his chest as if you just stabbed him. “Ouch. Right in my fragile heart.”

You roll your eyes, stepping further inside. The house is nice—far nicer than yours—but right now, all you care about is whether it’s safe. The doors are locked, the windows are shut, and for now, it seems like you have a moment to breathe. But you both know that moment won’t last long. “Sliding front doors don’t seem very stable,” you comment.

“Stable enough, I’m still alive, right? No break-ins or bloody murders happening.”

Or maybe because you’re in a gated community. You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “What are you looking for again?”

“Gonna change, maybe shower and cook up a nice dinner.”

You whip your head to him. “No, we need to go to my place too.”

“We can,” he shrugs, walking to the kitchen. You’re right on his tail, annoyance slowly rising. Further inside, the kitchen is pristine—almost too pristine, as if it’s rarely used. Stainless steel appliances line the walls, a stark contrast to the wooden cabinets and open shelves that hold an impressive collection of tea sets and expensive liquor that looks like it’s just there for decoration. Another lone coffee mug sits by the sink, an abandoned stirrer inside, suggesting he hadn’t had the chance to finish it before everything went to hell. “Tomorrow morning.”

“No,” you’re quick to rebuttal, speeding up to stand in front of him, fixing him with a steely gaze. “I did not sign up for that. You said you’d do whatever you’d need to here, then we go to mine and then a gas station for your damn snacks. That was the plan, not you lounging around without a care in the world.”

Gojo tilts his head, lips curling into an easy smile. “I didn’t realize we had an itinerary. And technically? I never said when we’d leave for your place. Just that we would.”

Your fingers twitch at your sides, torn between wanting to smack that smirk off his face and wanting to drag him out the door yourself. “Don’t play semantics with me. You think it’s safe to just wait around here? The longer we stay, the worse things can get out there.”

He exhales through his nose, running a hand through his hair. It’s slightly damp, strands clinging to his forehead from sweat. “Look, we just drove through what was essentially hell on earth. You’re on edge, I’m on edge, and neither of us knows what the hell is happening. So, we rest, get our shit together, and then we go. If you want to run off now, be my guest, but you won’t get far without a car, and I’m not giving you mine.”

Your jaw tightens. He has a point, and that pisses you off even more.

Gojo watches you, waiting for your response with that infuriatingly calm expression. It’s not that he doesn’t take the situation seriously—you saw the tension in his grip on the steering wheel earlier, the way his eyes constantly flicked to the mirrors, scanning for threats. But unlike you, he refuses to let the weight of it crush him.

You release a strained breath. “That’s not the point. My place has supplies I need. We don’t have time for you to play house.”

He exhales through his nose. “Relax, sweetheart. The sun will begin to go down in an hour and a half, give or take. And then what? Run around at night with no plan? Not exactly the best survival tactic.” He gestures vaguely toward the dimly lit window. “We stay here, get some rest, leave at sunrise. That way, neither of us end up dead before we even get there.”

You hate that he makes sense. You really, really do. But you also hate staying in an unfamiliar place, in a house that feels too open, too exposed, with a man you barely know. He reads the conflict on your face before you can mask it. “Tell you what,” he continues, crossing his arms. “We barricade the doors, make sure everything’s locked down. I stay far away from you when it’s time to hit the hay, and you do the same. If anything happens, we leave immediately. Deal?”

You exhale sharply through your nostrils, resisting the urge to curse him out. “...Fine,” you grumble. “But don’t get comfortable.”

Gojo grins, clapping his hands together. “Great! Now, dinner. Any dietary restrictions I should know about? Or do you just survive off anger and spite?”

You glare at him. He chuckles.

Yeah, this was going to be a long night.

Indeed it was. Hearing his grating voice sing in the shower was ruining your patience. You were this close to yelling at him to shut the hell up, but you held your tongue. Sitting stiffly on his couch, hands curled in your lap. Your eyes kept flickering to the doors that are now barricaded with a few chairs, a table from his study, and a piece of the sofa. He was in there for about twenty minutes already and you were starting to get restless. In order to keep your head, you stand up, deciding to get a good layout of the place you’ll unfortunately be camping out for the night. It’s good—you’ll know where the exits are in case something does happen.

The house is deceptively spacious, its traditional-meets-modern design making it feel both airy and structured. The polished wooden floors don’t creak under your weight as you move, a small mercy given the situation. You start with the first floor, sweeping through the open living room, past the neatly arranged bookshelves and minimalist furniture. A framed picture of Gojo with a few other people—colleagues, maybe?—sits on one of the shelves, but you don’t linger on it.

The kitchen, you’ve already seen, is borderline unused. A dining area extends beyond it, the sleek wooden table looking like it’s only been touched when necessary. The house doesn’t feel particularly lived-in. More like a place of convenience rather than a home. Must be the life of a surgeon. You move toward the hallway, finding a guest bathroom, his study, and what seems to be a spare bedroom, but the door is slightly ajar, and from what you can tell, it’s practically empty aside from a neatly made bed and a desk with a shut laptop. No personal touches, no real signs of frequent use. Then, there’s a staircase leading up to the second floor. You hesitate, ears straining. Gojo is still singing, oblivious to your slow exploration of his home. Rolling your eyes, you take the steps carefully, mapping out each one in your head.

The second floor is quieter, save for the sound of running water from the master bedroom’s en-suite bathroom. You glance down the hall—two more doors. One leads to what you assume is another office room, considering the slightly ajar door reveals stacked paperwork, books, and a white coat slung over the chair. The other…

You push it open slightly, peeking inside. A bedroom, obviously his. Larger than the guest room, but still frustratingly neat. The bed is king-sized, sheets dark and crisp, not a single wrinkle out of place. A dresser sits across from it, and to the side, a walk-in closet, the door left open just enough for you to see neatly arranged clothing—mostly work attire, some casual wear, and a few pairs of shoes lined up at the bottom.

Nothing about this place screams Gojo Satoru, the insufferable, obnoxious man currently singing off-key in the shower. It’s all calculated, controlled, sterile, even.

You don’t know why that unsettles you.

With a final glance around, you step back, deciding you’ve seen enough. Now all that’s left is waiting for Gojo to finish whatever the hell he’s doing so you can finally get some rest. However, just as you’re turning on your heel to walk back downstairs, something—or someone catches your eye.

A framed picture, all by its lonesome—rested atop his nightstand.

Your eyes squint and you pad closer. Satoru stands to the right, he looks younger. Wearing a cap and gown with a youthful smile. His arm is wrapped around the shoulders of a girl. You blink. She looks almost exactly like him. From the albino hair to the crystalline orbs, and even to the way both of their eyes crinkle when they smile. She seems younger—shorter. Your fingers hover over the frame, but you don’t touch it. There’s something oddly intimate about the way the photo sits there—deliberate, not thrown together like a forgotten memory. It stands alone, unlike the other, which was grouped with his colleagues.

A sister? You assume as much. The resemblance is uncanny. But there’s something about the way she’s smiling—so full of light, unburdened. It’s different from Gojo’s usual smirks, the ones laced with amusement, arrogance, or mischief. This is pure. Unfiltered happiness. There’s a warmth in the way Gojo’s arm is wrapped around her, in the way they’re both looking at the camera, like they’re sharing some private joke just between the two of them. The background of the picture is a blur of other graduates and family members, but your focus remains on them. It’s… unexpected. You’ve known him for less than a day, and yet the thought of him having a family, of having someone important to him, is strange. You never considered the possibility.

You can’t help but begin to wonder where this girl is now. Is he worried about her safety? What about the rest of his family?

You glance around the nightstand, noticing that this is the only framed photo in his bedroom. No others litter the dresser, no scattered images of friends, no sign of parents or anyone else. Just this one. Your stomach twists slightly. You don’t know why.

A sudden shift in the air—maybe the water shutting off—snaps you out of your daze. You blink, as if breaking out of some spell, and quickly step away from the picture. You shouldn’t be snooping. You shouldn’t care.

You can hear him shuffling around in there and you’re suddenly reminded of the fact that you’re in his room. “Shit,” you mutter to yourself, gaining your bearings and quickly turning around to leave. But just as you do so, your toe collides right into the damned protruding, sharp corner of his wall. "Ah, damn it!" you curse under your breath, clutching your foot. The sharp pain shoots up your leg, and you hop a little, trying to regain balance. But that only makes it worse as you stumble back and bump into the dresser. A few items clatter to the floor, and you freeze, suddenly feeling the weight of your situation. Of course, this would happen.

A brief silence follows and you feel like slapping yourself.

The silence stretches on, each second feeling like an eternity. You wince, still holding your foot, and glance around the room in a slight panic. The last thing you want is for him to hear you making a fool of yourself, but it's too late now. You can hear him shuffling closer, the sound of his steps growing louder with each passing moment. Panic bubbles in your chest, and you quickly drop to your knees, trying to pick up the fallen items off the floor before he gets there. But with the way your foot throbs, it’s a slow, clumsy process. You curse under your breath again, wishing you could just disappear. Just as you're about to give up and admit defeat, the door creaks open behind you.

"Uhhh…everything okay in here?" His voice is light, like he's expecting something completely mundane.

You freeze for a moment, embarrassment creeping up your spine. "Yeah, just—" You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "Just tripped. Foot’s fine. Nothing to worry about." You can hear your own voice crack as you say it.

Satoru steps into the room, pausing when he sees you crouched by the dresser, items scattered around you. His expression shifts for a brief moment, eyes narrowing slightly before he lets out a quiet sigh. "Careful there, you're gonna hurt yourself."

You glare back at him from your position on the floor, biting back a sharp retort and the urge to linger your eyes on certain areas that are concealed by a mere towel wrapped around his waist—broad, glistening, sexy chest on display. “You really need to renovate around here. It’s a hazard.”

He raises a brow, leaning against the doorframe, arms casually crossed. “Maybe you should stop snooping around my stuff and focus on not hurting yourself.”

His tone only irritates you further. “I wasn’t snooping,” you mutter, standing up slowly, trying not to favor your injured foot. “I was just—looking around.”

Satoru nods, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Well, looking around doesn’t usually lead to this,” he gestures to the scattered items, his voice now tinged with exasperation. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ll survive. But next time, watch your step. Don’t want you getting all hurt before we even get out of here.”

You shoot him a glare, but decide it’s best to let it go. For now. The last thing you want is for him to think you’re making a bigger deal of this than it is. “Are you done now? I’d like to wash up too, if you don’t mind.”

He hums lightly, pushing off from the doorframe. "Yeah, yeah. Go ahead, I’m almost done here anyway." His eyes flicker down to your foot a hint of concern crossing his features. It’s brief—barely noticeable—but you catch it, and for a moment, you almost feel like you might not be completely annoying him.

Almost.

"Take it easy on that foot," he adds casually, shrugging his shoulders. "Wouldn't want to carry you to the hospital, would I?"

You snort, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. "I’ll be fine. Not everyone needs a knight in shining armor." The words escape before you can stop them, and you feel a slight tinge of regret immediately after.

Gojo walks over to his dresser, passing you in the process. It takes everything in you not to sniff at the air like a dog at the scent of his…really good soap. "You sure about that? Because I'm really good at playing hero."

“Just…give me a towel, please? And some clothes, if you have it.”

“Towel, yes. Downstairs, a door next to the guest bathroom. However, clothes? I’m afraid I can only interest you in things left from my previous rendezvouses.”

You can’t help but scoff. “...you want me to wear clothes left behind by your hook-ups?”

The muscles in his back flex, arms lifting over his head as he puts on a basic, black tee.

He chuckles at your incredulity, the sound of fabric stretching as he pulls the shirt over his head, perfectly at ease. “Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he teases, turning to face you with a playful glint in his eye. “Some of them have pretty good taste. You might get lucky.”

You purse your lips, trying not to let his cockiness get under your skin. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, clearly unbothered by your rejection. “Your loss.” His gaze lingers on you for a moment, eyes flickering down to your foot before snapping back up. "Alright, alright. Don’t worry, I’ll hook you up with something more... appropriate."

He starts rummaging through the drawers of his dresser, pulling out a pair of dark sweatpants and a plain hoodie, and tossing them to you. “These should fit. No promises on style, but they’re clean. Unless, of course, you want to try the hook-up clothes after all,” he adds with a smirk, tossing the clothes onto the bed.

You hesitate for a moment. There’s something almost absurd about the whole situation. Here you are, stuck in a post-apocalyptic mess, and you’re being offered clothes from his past lovers. “Keep your exes’ clothes, I’ll take these,” you mutter, gripping them closer with a small huff, still trying to shake off the awkwardness.

Satoru grins and pats you on the shoulder. “Suit yourself. But hey, if you ever change your mind, just let me know. I’m a man of... many connections.”

You can feel your eye twitch at his insistent teasing, but you bite back your frustration. The last thing you need is to lose your temper again. You just want to shower, change, and get some rest, not get wrapped up in his ridiculous antics. Turning on your heel, you head out of the room, back downstairs toward the bathroom, muttering under your breath. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

His laughter rings out behind you as you descend the steps, making your way into his guest bathroom and closing the door with a soft click. You exhale, finally feeling a sense of relief that you're alone, if only for a moment.

That night, dinner is nothing short of an awkward, silent meet-up between two strangers. You sit on the opposite end of the table, Satoru facing you from his end. He talks here and there, but he’s much more invested in chowing down the stir-fry. You’re grateful for that. And when you two do to sleep, you ignore his dramatic farewell about sleeping well and not letting the bedbugs bite. Barcading yourself in the guest bedroom, in fear of not just him probably coming in during the middle of the night because you still haven’t gaged if he’s a weirdo perv, or just…unlikeable. But also for the fact that there’s still chaos reaping the world just outside the confines of his home.

You get hardly any sleep.

As soon as the sun is shining, you change out of the clothes he gave you and back into the ones from yesterday. Satoru wakes up about thirty minutes later, coming downstairs with a long-sleeve on, paired with dark wash jeans that if you look closely enough, hug his ass quite well. He’s wearing his thin-rimmed glasses once more, but this time with a simple black baseball cap, the symbol of the Yomiuri Giants taunting you. There’s a backpack slung over his shoulder as he grabs his keys.

“What’s in there?” you ask him, ignoring the way the ‘G’ symbol twists at your stomach.

"Essentials," he replies nonchalantly, adjusting the strap over his shoulder. "Food, first aid, a few weapons—y'know, the usual end-of-the-world starter pack."

You arch a brow. "Weapons?"

He smirks, tossing his keys in the air and catching them with an effortless flick of his wrist. "A knife and a gun. Nothing too crazy."

Your eyes widen. “You…have a gun? How do you even have a license, it’s strict as hell.”

Satoru laughs, clearly reveling in your disbelief. "Who said anything about a license?" He winks, tucking the keys into his pocket before slinging the backpack over both shoulders.

You stare at him, unimpressed. "Great. So not only are you annoying, but you're also illegally armed."

He sighs playfully, shaking his head as he heads toward the front door. "Relax, sweetheart. It's not like I’m running around committing crimes. Just a little... precaution. You never know when you'll need protection these days."

You cross your arms, not entirely convinced. "You do realize that if you get caught with that, it won’t just be the zombies we have to worry about, right?"

Satoru waves a dismissive hand. "Oh, please. The world's gone to hell. The last thing on the government's mind is some guy with an unregistered gun." He gives you a look, one that almost feels too knowing. "Besides, it's not my first time handling one."

Something about the casual way he says it makes you uneasy. Part of you wants to question why a health care worker has illegal possession of a firearm, but you have bigger fish to fry. "Right," you mumble, shifting your weight onto your good foot. "You ready to go, or do you need another five minutes to admire yourself in the mirror?"

Satoru tilts his head. “Oh, you’re implying I take too long to get ready? This,” he swipes his hand up and down his body vaguely. “Effortless.”

You roll your eyes, already regretting asking. "Let’s just go."

He grins one last time and motions for you to follow him out the door. "After you, my dear reluctant partner-in-crime."

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you step outside, squinting against the morning light. The world beyond the safety of his house is eerily quiet, too still. A constant reminder that whatever life used to be, it’s long gone now. Satoru locks up behind you. You follow him to the BMW parked out front, getting into the passenger’s side. Once he’s seated behind the wheel, he does a quick look around of the interior, then outside, before he’s reversing. One hand placed to your headrest, his left palm guiding the car back and to the left. “Where do you live?”

You hesitate for a moment, debating whether or not you should even tell him. Does it really matter? Your apartment, your belongings—hell, even your bed—none of it means much in a world that’s already fallen apart. Still, old habits die hard, and there’s a part of you that clings to the remnants of what once was. You glance at him, noting the way his sharp profile remains focused on the road as he expertly maneuvers the car onto the empty streets. There’s something oddly reassuring about the way he drives, confident but not reckless. “The high-rise apartments in Shibuya,” you finally answer, shifting slightly in your seat. “Near the station.”

Satoru lets out a low whistle. “Damn, you really like to live dangerously, huh?”

You furrow your brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “Shibuya must’ve been hit hard, it’s a big metropolitan area, those places are always first to go. If you think we’re just gonna waltz in there and grab your stuff, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Your stomach sinks. You already knew it was bad—hell, you saw the state of things with your own eyes before finding temporary shelter—but hearing him say it out loud makes it feel more… final. “I have to at least try,” you say, voice quieter now. “There are things I need.”

Satoru hums in thought before making a sudden turn onto a different road. “Alright,” he says, as if he’s already made up his mind. “We’ll check it out. But the second things get dicey, we’re out. No hero shit.”

You roll your eyes but nod. “Fine.”

For a brief moment, neither of you speak, the low hum of the car’s engine filling the silence. Your eyes are glued on the window, watching the decimated pieces of what used to be normality wizz past the car. Buildings stand in eerie stillness, some with shattered windows, others marked with the dark streaks of smoke and fire. Cars sit abandoned on the road, doors left wide open as if their owners had fled in a hurry. The further you drive, the more the devastation sinks in—the world you knew is truly gone. You wonder how many people survived the night, how many people didn’t.

Satoru drums his fingers on the steering wheel, gaze flickering between the road and the rearview mirror. His expression is unreadable, but you don’t miss the way his jaw tenses when he spots something in the distance.

“What is it?” you ask, already tensing up in your seat, looking back over your shoulder.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead making a sharp right into a side street, one that looks a little less exposed. “Nothing,” he finally says, though you don’t believe him for a second. “Just being cautious.”

You press your lips into a thin line, but let it go. If something was truly wrong, he’d say it… right?

Minutes pass, stretching into what feels like hours as the car winds through the remnants of civilization. You glance at him again, watching as he adjusts his cap, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. He looks far too composed for someone driving through the apocalypse. “You’ve done this before,” you muse, turning back to the window. It’s not a question.

Satoru chuckles, the sound low and knowing. “What, drive?”

You shoot him a look. “You know what I mean.”

There’s a pause, long enough that you almost think he won’t answer. But then—

“I’ve been in bad situations before, of course.” His voice is lighter than it should be, as if he’s trying to downplay something much heavier. “This? It’s just another shitty day in a long list of shitty days.”

Something about the way he says it makes your stomach twist. You don’t push for more, but you file it away, another mystery to add to the growing list of questions surrounding him. The car slows as you near Shibuya, the once-bustling city now nothing more than a graveyard of collapsed buildings and burned-out cars. Your fingers tighten into your palm.

Satoru exhales sharply, shifting the car into park. “Alright,” he says, stretching an arm over the back of your seat as he turns to face you. “Tell me exactly what we’re looking for.”

You look over. “I just need some stuff. Change, some clothes, weapons, I guess. Whatever will help me.”

He nods, eyes flickering to the windshield. Your apartment building still stands tall amongst the chaos. He juts his chin in the direction of them. “This it?”

“Yep.”

“What floor?”

“The highest one.”

“Damn,” he shakes his head, lifting his cap to push his hair back before setting it back down.

“What?” you grunt.

“You live on the top floor of one of the most expensive places to live. Impressive, what do you do?”

“Not up for discussion right now,” your fingers reach to open the door, but his hand on your other arm stops you. Slowly, you look back over at him and his features have settled into a serious expression.

“Listen,” he leans closer. “Game plan: stay quiet and close, we move quick. Like I said, if things turn awry, we’re out. At least I am.”

Your brows furrow, eyes narrowing at his emphasis on the word ‘I’. “Not exactly reassuring.”

Satoru merely smirks, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m just being honest. No use making empty promises in a world like this.”

You study him for a moment, searching for any sign of deceit, but all you find is that same self-assured confidence that’s been there since you met him. He’s not lying—if things go south, he will leave. Whether or not he’ll leave you behind is another question entirely. With a slow exhale, you nod. “Fine. Got it.”

He releases your arm, and you step out of the car quietly, the weight of the city’s silence settling over you like a thick fog. The air is stagnant, carrying the faint scent of smoke and decay. Shibuya had always been loud, a place of endless movement and life, but now… now, it feels hollow, like the ghost of something that once thrived. Satoru joins you, shutting his door with a quiet click before adjusting the strap of his backpack. “Let’s move,” he murmurs, voice softer now, as if speaking too loudly might awaken something lurking in the ruins.

You weave through the wreckage together, careful to step over broken glass and twisted metal. The further you go, the more the damage becomes apparent—collapsed storefronts, overturned cars, belongings strewn across the pavement like remnants of a life abruptly abandoned. Some buildings are burned out husks, their insides blackened and exposed. Others remain eerily intact, but you know better than to assume they’re empty. Your apartment building looms ahead, standing tall amongst the destruction, its pristine facade marred only by a few shattered windows and scorch marks near the base. A miracle, considering the state of the rest of the city.

Satoru sighs lowly, tilting his head back to take it all in. “Damn. Guess even the apocalypse couldn’t knock this place down.”

You don’t respond, already stepping toward the entrance. The glass doors are cracked but still intact, and with a bit of force, you manage to push them open. Inside, the lobby is a mess—furniture overturned, decorative plants wilting, papers scattered across the marble floor. The scent of mildew lingers, mixed with something more acrid, something you don’t want to think too hard about.

Satoru steps in beside you, adjusting his glasses as he takes in the scene. “Cozy.”

You roll your eyes and make a beeline for the elevator, only to be met with an unlit panel and unresponsive buttons. Of course. Power’s out. “Stairs it is,” you mutter, turning toward the emergency exit.

Satoru groans dramatically behind you. “Top floor, huh? You couldn’t have lived on, like, the third floor? Maybe even the tenth? Something reasonable?”

You shoot him a glare over your shoulder. “Feel free to stay down here if you’d rather not make the trip.”

He gives you a shake his head as he follows you to the stairwell. “And leave you to get eaten by whatever’s lurking up there? What kind of man would that make me?”

You scoff, pushing the door open. “A smart one.”

The stairwell is dimly lit by the weak morning light filtering through a few narrow windows. The air is thick, stale, carrying a heaviness that sets your nerves on edge. You grip the railing tightly as you begin your ascent, ears straining for any sound beyond the echo of your own footsteps. Satoru trails behind, his presence an oddly steadying force despite his usual antics. He’s quiet now, focused, movements careful but purposeful. It’s a reminder that beneath all his smug remarks and easygoing attitude, there’s someone who knows how to survive. Floor after floor, the silence persists, save for the occasional distant creak of settling debris. Your legs burn by the time you reach the highest level, breath slightly uneven. Satoru, of course, doesn’t look winded in the slightest.

“Not bad,” he muses, peering down the empty hallway. “You kept up.”

If you could, you’d give him another death glare. Insetad, stepping past him out the door and down the familiar hall, toward your apartment door. It’s a sharp right and a few hundred feet away. The number staring back at you, familiar yet foreign—like something out of a past life. With a steadying breath, you reach for the doorknob—only to find it slightly ajar.

Your stomach drops.

Satoru notices immediately, his posture shifting, hand moving to the knife at his belt. His voice is lower now, serious. “That how you left it?”

You shake your head, pulse quickening.

Someone’s been here. Maybe still is.

And you have no idea what you’re about to walk into.

Satoru steadily positions himself in front of you, carefully opening your door and being the first to step inside. You follow, holding your breath like you’re waiting for someone to pop out—human or not. As you both slowly enter, you’re looking around. However much your dismay, things look exactly how you left them yesterday morning. That feels almost more alarming than finding your place askew. Satoru’s eyes dart around the room, scanning for any signs of movement or disturbance. His posture remains poised, like a predator stalking its prey. He’s already in full survival mode, but there’s an odd tension about him. The room is eerily quiet, and as your gaze sweeps over the familiar space, the silence grows louder.

You take a step forward, heart racing as you absorb every detail. Your apartment, for all its remnants of normalcy, feels strangely hollow now. The sunlight filtering through the blinds feels too bright, too exposed, and every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet sounds amplified. The once-comforting space is now just another shell of what it used to be.

Satoru motions for you to stay back as he moves deeper into the living room. His steps are slow, measured, and almost soundless despite the creaking wood beneath him. He pauses for a moment by the kitchen area, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the state of your belongings. Everything seems untouched—your furniture, your personal items—everything as it was, but the feeling in the air is different. "Nothing's been disturbed," Satoru mutters, his voice low and almost to himself. He turns to face you, the serious look in his eyes replaced with something unreadable. "You sure you didn’t leave the door like that?"

You shake your head quickly, a chill running down your spine. "I locked it when I left, I always do." The words feel flimsy, even to you. They don't sound like they carry much weight anymore.

His eyes flicker to the hallway, then to the bedroom door, which stands slightly ajar, though just enough to seem unnatural. His hand moves to the small gun at his side, fingers brushing the handle as he starts toward it with slow, deliberate steps. “Stay close, hurry and get your stuff.” he mutters.

With a quick nod, you make your way to your bedroom with him right behind you. A small look around and you deem it okay to breathe normally for a bit. “Don’t touch anything.”

Satoru doesn’t say anything in response, but you can feel his eyes on you as you rummage through your closet. His presence is imposing, as if he's waiting for something to go wrong, and it only adds to the heaviness in the air. The subtle rustle of clothing is the only sound that fills the room as you work quickly, pulling down one of the black backpacks you use for hiking trips. It’s sturdy, and practical—just what you need right now. You swing the bag over your shoulder, quickly scanning your closet for what you need. A few changes of clothes, nothing too fancy—just some comfortable jeans, shirts, a few pairs of underwear and socks, and a spare jacket you can throw on if things get worse. You shove them into the backpack, careful to make sure you don’t take too much, just the essentials.

You urge him to turn around, changing out of the filthy clothes from yesterday and into a nice, clean set. A simple t-shirt, one you used regularly for the gym or practices, a thin, but offering enough jacket. Finally, your running shoes and comfortable yoga pants. If you’re truly in the apocalypse now, you’d be damned if you’re caught dead wearing something that doesn’t hug your ass right. You walk back into the main room and into the en-suite bathroom, rummaging around for products you know you’ll need. Feminine care products, a hair brush, a couple hair ties, some wet wipes, a new travel-sized toothbrush with paste, along with travel-sized shampoo and conditioner. You’ve never been more grateful to be an avid traveler than you are now.

“Hey,” he calls out, causing you to turn your head over your shoulder. His back is turned to you, but when he faces you, your eyes practically bulge out of your skull. “Is this yours?”

You quickly stomp over and snatch the pink vibrator out of his hand. “What did I say?! No snooping!”

“What?” he shrugs nonchalantly, watching you hide your stash back into the not-so-secret drawer anymore.

“I said to not touch anything, you pervert!” Your hand makes connection with his arm, giving it a good few whacks.

Satoru raises an eyebrow, unfazed by your outburst, and shifts his weight back slightly, clearly amused. His expression is almost too casual, but there’s a glimmer of mischief behind those sharp eyes. “Hey, I didn’t know you were into toys.” His smirk deepens as he watches you practically shove everything back into the drawer with the kind of force that could make even the most nonchalant person flinch.

You glare at him, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and cross your arms tightly across your chest. “I told you not to touch anything. Is that really so hard to understand?” Your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but the irritation bubbling up in your chest refuses to be contained. It’s the last thing you want to deal with right now—Satoru playing the role of the curious, annoying asshole.

“Look, no need to get all defensive.” He raises his hands in mock surrender, the teasing smile never leaving his face. “I was just checking if you were fully prepared for the end of the world, that’s all.” His gaze flickers to the bathroom counter where you’ve left a few items, eyes darting over the travel-sized toiletries. He walks over, brushing past you with a little too much proximity for comfort. “You’ve got everything packed up, but don’t forget about the essentials.”

Your eyes narrow, watching as he picks up the small bottle of hand sanitizer you’d almost missed. His fingers are carelessly grazing over the edge of the bottle, clearly ignoring the growing discomfort in the air.

“Essentials?” you ask, crossing your arms even tighter. " If you’re implying I need to carry more weapons—"

"No," he cuts you off, his voice smooth and disarmingly calm. "I mean things like this." His hand flips the sanitizer bottle between his fingers, inspecting it before setting it into his pocket. "Hygiene is important, even if we’re fighting to survive." You blink, momentarily thrown off guard by his sudden seriousness. His eyes meet yours, no longer teasing, but steady. “You’ll need to keep your wits about you,” he says, “and hygiene matters. You’ll want to be able to think clearly. So don’t let anything slide.”

You don’t say anything at first. You’re not sure if it’s because of his bluntness or the strange sincerity in his voice, but for a split second, the world outside his apartment—the wreckage, the violence—feels distant. Almost like a dream. You don’t have much time to contemplate it, though, before Satoru turns to face you with that same playful glint in his eyes. “Alright, I think we’re all set then. But I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you to have… this kind of ‘emergency kit’.” He gestures vaguely.

Your face burns again. “That’s none of your business and I won’t ever forget or forgive you for being a perverted snoop,” you snap. He’s already back to being a nuisance, and you can’t help but let out an exasperated sigh.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, tapping his finger against the counter. “So, what’s next? You wanna grab your weapons, or are we heading out with just your stylish gear?”

You roll your eyes. “I think I’ll keep the weapons to myself for now,” you mutter, feeling the weight of your bag on your shoulder and the growing tension of needing to leave. There’s no room to play around. No time to be embarrassed. “Let’s just get moving before things get any worse.”

“After you, princess,” Satoru teases, stepping aside and giving you space to pass.

Finding your way back into the kitchen, you grab the only weapon that could be found in your home, unlike others—a simple kitchen knife. You keep it’s guard on as you lodge it into the thigh pocket of your pants, where cellphones would usually go.

“You know,” his annoying voice perks up again. You groan and are ready to hurdle a ‘shut the hell up’ at him when you realize what he’s staring at. A team picture of you and all the girls hung up on your wall near the TV. For a moment, you feel yourself stiffen, fingers clenching by your sides. The face of Yui and Sayo feels like a cold smack to the face. “I knew I recognized you from somewhere, explains how you can afford to live here.” He turns back to you, eyebrows raised. There’s a silence few seconds, like he’s waiting for you to speak or confirm everything.

You don’t.

And he sighs dramatically. “Right, you’re probably humble.” The sarcasm doesn’t stream past you. “I’ve heard a loooot about you, I guess yesterday I just didn’t really have the time to connect the dots. My junior, Ino, he’s—” he cuts himself off, blinking like he has a sudden epiphany. It confuses you, but you allow him to reign in on whatever the fuck is going through his mind right now. A shaky exhale leaves his lips, an attempt at what must be a chuckle, lifting his cap off his head and repeating the same antsy actions you’ve already picked up on. “Anywho, you’re…yeah. Seems fitting.”

Instantly, your lips downturn into a scowl, jaw clenching so hard you can hear your teeth creak. “He told me he wasn’t mar—”

“Not that,” he smoothly cuts you off, waving his hand and walking leisurely to the front door.

You bite back the impulse to snap at him, fingers twitching towards the handle of your knife. He’s baiting you, prodding at your past, and you refuse to let him get any satisfaction. But the urge to respond is there, burning beneath the surface, tangled with the memory of friends' faces, the weight of the team, and everything you’ve lost so quickly. The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, hanging between you both. You could ask him what he’s really getting at, could demand answers, but the room feels smaller with every passing second. You just want to get out of here. You just want to leave this place, put the past behind you for once.

Satoru notices your discomfort, his expression shifting just enough for you to see it. A flicker of understanding, or maybe just amusement, passes across his face. Then, he turns back toward the door, breaking the tension with the simple act of opening it. “Don’t worry,” he says, his voice softening just a little. “We’re wasting daylight. Got a lot to do, right?”

You don’t respond, but you’re aware of the tiny crack in his facade, the hint of something unspoken between you both. It’s not sympathy, it’s not pity—it’s something else. Something too complex to put into words. Instead, you focus on the door, taking a deep breath, pushing the overwhelming emotions aside. You can’t afford to be distracted now. Not by him. Not by your past. The world outside is still waiting, and you don’t have time for whatever games he’s playing. You don’t have time for anything except survival. With one final look back at your home, your solitude, you life, everything you hold close and dear to your heart, you follow him outside and back into the stillness of the hallway.

Without a word, you two make your way back to the stairs. It feels slightly more awkward now, maybe even tense. You’re used to people recognizing your face and name, but now that he has, you feel a sick, twisted bundle of emotions rise in your gut. And the all point back to the main eruptor: infuriation. He doesn’t look it, but he’s not doubt judging you in his head, they always do now. He’s probably regretting the fact that he saved you yesterday, because you’re probably the last person who deserves it.

That fucking asshole.

You linger behind him, burning holes into the back of his head. You take another step. And another, then another, and another. You two are just about to make it back to the stairwell when—

“Y/N?”

a/n: jk, out today instead of Wednesday :p

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