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cutehoons02 · 23 hours ago

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Never fall in love with a ghost

Jake pt

*pairing: pervy ghost Heeseung x ballerina Girl

*trope: Enemies to lovers/ she fell first,but he fell harder

*synopsis: Being the university’s prodigy dancer has its advantages but what would happen when one evening while you are training in an old rehearsal room, where no one ever went because it was cold and shadowy met a ghost of the name Heeseung. Heeseung in the past life was a dancer and a singer and is gloomy, crazy but at the same time charming and you try with all your strength to resist him but you know that underneath you are falling in love and feeling for a being who is half human and half ghost. What would happen if you entered his world?

*tags: Heeseung is a psychopathic and perverted ghost, loves to scare the protagonist, the protagonist behaves a bit spoiled, the protagonist does not tolerate it, needy protagonist, there is a funny but also terrifying humor, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) semi-public sex,cowgirl (theater) masturbation (f.m receive) presences of souls, pet names (darling) (hee) dark settings as the abandoned theater of the university,this story is written for an audience over 18 years.

10.8k (🩰)

(English is not my native language)

The academy stood like a relic of the past, with its gothic towers rising into the perpetually gray sky. The building seemed purposefully designed to inspire fear: creaking stairs, endless empty corridors, and shadows dancing on the walls like living creatures. Students had always shared stories of ghosts haunting the place, but no one had ever confirmed or denied them, except for one of your best friends, a cheerleader, who was involved with a half-ghost. You thought it was crazy when she told you what she had to endure and do to receive Jake's unconditional love, who had been more human than a ghost for quite some time.

You didn’t have time for such nonsense. You had a dream: to become a world-class ballerina. The academy’s classrooms, with cracked mirrors and worn wooden floors, weren’t ideal, but they were all you had for now. You spent every free minute there, ignoring the whispers from other students and the shivers that ran down your spine every time you crossed the dark corridors.

It was one of those evenings when the academy’s silence seemed heavier than usual that you saw him for the first time.

You were rehearsing a complex sequence in the main hall. The old gramophone, working intermittently, emitted a distorted melody. Your breath was heavy, the tips of your ballet shoes scraping the floor like wails, and everything seemed normal... until you heard it, a slow clap.

You spun around, your heart pounding in your chest. You were alone, always had been, or at least, that’s what you thought. But there, sitting on the edge of the broken mirror, was someone.

Heeseung was young and incredibly attractive. His smile seemed to belong to a different era and offered no reassurance. His dark, penetrating eyes had an odd glow as if seeing more than they should.

"Not bad," he said, tilting his head slightly. "But your fifth position is awful."

You felt a chill down your spine. "Who are you?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Heeseung slid off the mirror with the grace of a dancer, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "An interesting question," he said with an enigmatic smile. "Who am I? Or better yet, what am I?"

Your heart stopped for a moment. Heeseung’s voice was sweet, almost melodic, but there was something wrong about him. His movements were too fluid, his eyes too alert.

"This is my place," Heeseung continued, stepping closer. "My stage. And you... you’re an intruder."

Heeseung enjoyed scaring humans. A whisper in the dark or a shadow at the right moment was enough to make them run away screaming. But you were different; you didn’t seem afraid. You looked at him as if he were real as if you could see him, not just a blurred spot or an illusion.

"Not scared?" he asked, his tone halfway between curiosity and challenge.

You clenched your jaw. "Should I be?"

Heeseung laughed, a low sound as sharp as broken glass. "Oh, I already like you. But be careful," he added, his tone suddenly colder. "You don’t know what happens to those who stay too long here."

You stared at him, your heart still pounding, but this time not out of fear. He wasn’t just a ghost. He was something different, something... too alive to be dead.

You didn’t look away from Heeseung, even though every instinct told you to. The ghost moved with eerie nonchalance as if he were part of the room’s very shadow.

"You know," Heeseung said, stepping closer in small strides, "it’s not polite to invade someone’s territory without asking permission. It’s a matter of respect."

"I didn’t know ballrooms belonged to ghosts. You know, I pay good money for this academy, and I’m pretty sure my money isn’t going to a ghost!" you replied, raising an eyebrow. Your voice was steady, but your hands trembled slightly.

Heeseung tilted his head, his eyes sliding over your figure, lingering on your toned legs, your slender arms, and the pink tutu that seemed almost like a challenge. His lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile as if he were undressing you with his eyes.

"Oh, they belong to anyone who has enough charm to claim them," he said, his voice low and full of an odd amused tone. Then he ran his tongue over his lips, casting you an openly mischievous look.

You snorted, crossing your arms. "Maybe the rumors about ghosts were true, then. They told me you were... a bit perverted."

Heeseung stopped a few steps away from you, his smile widening. "Perverted? No," he murmured, lowering his voice by an octave. "Curious, perhaps. It’s your fault you’re so... intriguing."

His words were a whisper that slithered into your mind like a wisp of smoke. However, you didn’t move, you didn’t back away even as he got closer, so close that you could see the faint transparency of his features, like an unfinished sketch.

"You’re not afraid of me, are you?" Heeseung asked, his hand lifting to brush a lock of your hair.

You stared directly into his eyes, a hint of a smile lighting a new fire in his chest, or at least, in the void where a heart should have been. "Should I be? You’re rather... charming for a dead guy."

He laughed a deep sound that seemed to vibrate inside you. "Oh, little one," he said, glancing at your lips for a moment before returning to your eyes, "I’m much more than just a dead guy."

You felt Heeseung’s hand graze your bare arm, his fingers cold but extraordinarily light, like the touch of a feather. A shiver ran down your spine, but it wasn’t fear, not entirely.

"And what if I told you I’m just playing with you?" Heeseung continued his face now only inches from yours. "That I’m here just for fun? Because... you incite me?"

You laughed, a crystalline sound that seemed to echo through the empty halls, a new melody etched in Heeseung’s mind that he wouldn’t soon forget. "And what if I told you I don’t mind?"

Heeseung froze, his gaze fixed on you, and for a moment, an expression of surprise crossed his face. You? Flirting with him? It was... absurd. Ghosts weren’t meant for these things. They were supposed to scare, torment, dominate. And yet here you were, with that confident smile and those big eyes staring at him as if he were just an ordinary guy.

He cleared his throat, stepping back, but his smile soon faded and was replaced by a new expression, a mask of audacity. After all, he was Heeseung. There was no one who knew how to play with humans better than him.

"Who do you think you are, huh?" he said, his tone sharp, though his gaze kept sliding over you, lingering on your legs and the curves of your tutu, as if it were a challenge made of fabric. "Do you know who you’re talking to?"

You simply crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow. "A ghost who thinks he’s irresistible, I guess."

Heeseung darted toward you so quickly that you didn’t even have time to step back. You found yourself mere centimeters from his face, so close that you could feel his voice as a whisper directly in your brain.

"Listen, little one," he said in a darker tone, "maybe you don’t realize who you’re playing with. I’m a ghost. A being trapped between life and death. Do you know what that means? It means I can do anything. I can scare you, haunt you... or..." He leaned slightly toward your ear, his voice lower and more slithering, "I can show you how extremely... perverted we are."

You held back a smile. Your confidence irritated him and disarmed him. And, even worse, you didn’t seem the least bit scared.

"Ah, so you admit you’re a pervert?" you said with a grin. "Should I be worried?"

Heeseung clenched his jaw, frustrated. How could she be the one flirting with him? He was supposed to be the one playing with others, the one who made people lose their minds if they stared at him too long. And yet, here you were, holding your ground against every attempt to make you uncomfortable.

"Maybe you should," he finally said, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Because you don’t know what I could do to you. I could get inside your head, your dreams. I could bend you to my will with a snap of my fingers. Humans like you... shouldn’t mess with ghosts."

You stepped forward, now almost chest to chest-with him. "You know what? Maybe you’re right. But you know what else I think?"

Heeseung stayed silent, staring at you, his eyes as black as the abyss that separated him from life.

"I think all your mysterious and intimidating act is just a facade."

The words hit him harder than he’d ever admit. You were supposed to be the scared one, not the one playing with him. He leaned toward you, his face an inch from yours, his eyes glowing with a dangerous light.

"Watch out," he hissed, his voice a mix of threat and seduction. "Because you might regret messing with someone like me." But you smiled a smile that disarmed him once more. "Then do it. Show me what you’re capable of, Heeseung!" And without a second thought, you grabbed your dance bag and walked away, your heart pounding in your chest.

Heeseung vanished from the dance hall in a burst of frustration, leaving only a chill in the air behind him. He appeared in the old cemetery hidden beneath the Academy, a place where ghosts like him gathered to vent their emotions or lose themselves in melancholy.

Waiting for him were Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon, who greeted him with amused glances.

'Hey, hey, look who's back,' Jake said with a grin, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. 'What happened, ladies' man? Your usual magic didn’t work?'

Jay laughed, giving him a pat on the back. <<What a sight, Hee. Getting beaten by a simple human?>>

Heeseung shot them a glare, but his silence only fueled their laughter. "Oh, stop it," he growled finally. "You have no idea what’s going on."

-Of course, we do,- Sunghoon replied, leaning against a tombstone with a smug smile. -You’re losing control over a simple human. And you know what else? She’s friends with Kira.-

The name made Heeseung flinch. Kira was Jake’s human girlfriend, a fiery girl who had been able to hold her own against his ghostly nature at the start of last year. But now, looking closely at Jake, it was clear he had almost completely lost his ghostly charm and had only a tiny percentage of ghosts left in him.

'Yeah, Kira knows her well, she used to be part of the dance team with her, but Kira switched to cheerleading and Y/n is studying to become a dancer,' Jake continued. 'And she says she’s a real spitfire. You won’t be surprised to know it won’t be easy to bend her to your will.'

Jake laughed again, leaning against the mausoleum wall. 'Maybe you should change tactics, Hee. You look more confused than anything.'

Heeseung ignored them, gritting his teeth. That girl got under his skin like no one else, and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He wasn’t used to being challenged like this, nor to feeling so... disarmed and mocked by his best friends.

A few nights later, you were sitting on a stool in your room, focused on repairing the pink tutu that had slightly unraveled during your last practice. The silver thread slipped through your fingers, and the monotonous rhythm of the stitching had a calming effect. Or at least it did until you heard a sound, a voice.

You froze suddenly, your heart pounding in your chest. Someone was singing. The melody was low and sweet, but with a hint of melancholy that made your skin crawl. It came from the theater, the oldest and most unsettling part of the Academy, the one everyone avoided unless it was necessary.

You glanced at the door to your room. It didn’t make sense to go check. It was nearly midnight, and whoever it was could very well be another ghost or someone crazy practicing. But curiosity was eating you alive.

With an exasperated sigh, you set the tutu down and stood up. "Who the hell is singing at this hour?" you muttered, slipping on a light cardigan and stepping out of the room.

The theater was immersed in darkness, the rows of seats resembling a silent army, watching those who danced before them. The voice continued, sweet and hypnotic, coming from the stage. You stopped behind a column, trying not to make a sound. You looked down and saw a figure standing at the center of the stage, illuminated only by the dim light of the moon filtering through broken windows.

Heeseung.

He was singing, and his voice filled the entire theater, wrapping around it like a cloak. It was a sound you had never heard before, a melody that seemed to intertwine with something deep, dark, and ancient.

For a moment, you stood there, unable to move. Then, without thinking, your voice rose into the darkness: "I didn't know ghosts gave private concerts."

Heeseung stopped suddenly. His head slowly turned toward you, and for a moment, his gaze seemed unreadable, a mix of irritation and surprise.

"And what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice a bit colder than usual.

You moved closer to the stage, crossing your arms. "The question is, what are you doing here, singing at midnight? Don’t you have anything better to do?"

He chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the theater like a living shadow. "Maybe I should be the one asking you that. Aren't you afraid to come here alone at this hour? You know... I could hurt you."

You descended to the front of the stage, looking him straight in the eyes. "Really? Because every time you try to scare me, it ends with you being the one left shaken?"

You sat down in one of the chairs, crossing your legs and staring at Heeseung without breaking eye contact. He was on the stage, dressed in an elegant black-and-white stage outfit. The fabric almost seemed to glow under the cold moonlight, and his face was a perfect balance of charm and something deeply unsettling.

He was doing something strange, a performance that resembled a dark version of Swan Lake, a ballet you knew well. It was impossible not to notice his superhuman grace, the movements so fluid they seemed to defy the laws of physics. He was beautiful, yet there was something wrong and disturbing about him.

"If you're planning to sing or dance for hours," you said casually, "at least make sure you're not disturbing me. I have class tomorrow morning, and the theater is right below my room."

Heeseung stopped, his gaze piercing you like a blade. His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Don’t worry," he murmured, his voice echoing in the empty theater. "Only a few people have the privilege of seeing me or hearing me."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really? And who are the other lucky people with that grand privilege? Your ghostly little friends?"

Heeseung nodded toward something behind you with a tilt of his head.

You slowly turned, holding your breath, and the sight that greeted you left you speechless.

Behind you, scattered among the rows of seats, were figures. People. But they weren't normal. Their eyes were empty, their bodies frozen as if time itself had stopped. No one spoke or moved, but the mere fact that they were there, staring at you with those vacant eyes, made your heartbeat race.

"W-What... is all this?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Heeseung laughed, a sound that seemed to fill every corner of the theater. "Welcome to my little personal audience. They're always here, silent, motionless. They won’t hurt you... as long as I decide otherwise."

You slowly stood from the chair, hearing a door slam shut behind you. Now you were truly trapped. There was no way out.

"Is this a trap?" you asked, trying to mask your fear with a challenging tone. "Are you going to kill me?"

Heeseung descended from the stage with spectral elegance, his steps as silent as those of a predator. He looked into your eyes, tilting his head slightly. "Kill you? Maybe. But you amuse me too much. You know, Y/n... you have something others don't. You don’t let yourself be bent."

You clenched your fists. "You're a damn narcissist, you know that? Do you want to scare me? Good luck. You know what? I want to see you dance. I want to see if you're as good as you think you are."

The words struck him like a challenge, and for a moment something shifted in his gaze. Y/n’s arrogance irritated and intrigued him at the same time. A disturbing smile formed on his lips.

"You want to see me dance?" he asked. "Be careful, little one. I might dance just for you, but I’m not sure you’ll be able to handle it."

You took a step back, but your gaze never wavered. "Show me. Prove to me that you're worth all this drama."

Heeseung stopped in the center of the stage, the smile that curved his lips full of malice and a hint of madness. The theater seemed colder, darker as if the very air had been sucked away by his presence.

"You want to see me dance?" he asked with a sweet but dangerous voice. "You know I never do anything for nothing. You have to give me something in return."

You crossed your arms, your gaze betraying no hint of fear, though your heart was pounding. "Something in return? What exactly?"

Heeseung chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "They," he said, nodding toward the spectral figures filling the seats, "gave me their lives. Every soul here chose to remain in my little kingdom forever. It's a fair price, don’t you think?"

You turned to look at the motionless figures, frozen like statues, and anger surged in your chest. "They never would have chosen this. No one wants to die, and none of them would have chosen to be your puppet."

Heeseung smiled again, slowly walking toward you. "Maybe not. But everyone has a price. And yours... what is it, Y/n?"

He stopped just a step away, so close you could feel his breath. With a slow, deliberate gesture, he caressed your cheek with the tips of his fingers. His hand was cold, and the touch made you flinch.

"But don’t worry," he continued, his gaze sliding over you, taking time to examine every curve, every detail. "For now, I don’t want to see you die."

He licked his lips, his eyes trailing over your black leggings and pink hoodie that hugged your slender frame. The way the fabric clung to your body seemed almost like a provocation, and Heeseung's smile grew sharper.

"You know what I want?" he finally said, his voice becoming a seductive whisper. "I want your body."

You froze, his lips curling into a thin line as his eyes filled with a mix of surprise and challenge. "No," you finally said, your tone firm.

Heeseung tilted his head, his smile never leaving his face. "Oh, Y/n," he murmured, "do you know what it means to refuse me? It means you’ll stay here for days. Maybe weeks. Until you change your mind."

With a snap of his fingers, the lights in the theater went out, leaving you in complete darkness. The only thing you could see were his eyes, glowing like two slits of light in the void.

"Your choice," Heeseung continued, his voice seeming to come from every direction. "I have all the time in the world. You, however... don't."

You remained still and, after a moment, went to sit in a chair, wrapped in your hoodie, as the cold air seemed to penetrate your bones. The ghosts were gone, and the heavy silence of the theater felt almost suffocating. You tried to hold back your anxiety, but time passed slowly, and the fear mixed with growing irritation.

Heeseung was gone, leaving you there, as if your refusal had bored or disappointed him. But you weren’t the type to give up easily.

You stayed there for hours, fighting the cold and discomfort, until boredom and frustration took over. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, you got up from the chair and headed toward the stage.

"Heeseung!" you shouted, your voice echoing through the empty hall. "If you think you're going to drive me crazy like this, you're dead wrong. You're just a selfish bastard!"

For a while, there was no response. The silence weighed heavily on you, oppressive and unsettling. But then, suddenly, a low, deep laugh echoed from the ceiling, making you jump.

You turned sharply, shivers running down your spine. The laugh was unmistakable. "Were you always there?" you asked, clenching your fists.

"Maybe," Heeseung replied with a tone full of amusement. His voice came from above, from the ceiling of the theater. You looked up, but couldn’t see him.

"I hate you," you said, even though your heartbeat betrayed the tension.

He laughed again, a sound that seemed to dance in the air. "Oh? And yet you're still here. You didn’t run away. Maybe you don’t hate me as much as you say."

You clenched your jaw, frustrated by his arrogance. "You know what? If you want my body that much, you can have it. But on one condition."

Heeseung’s laughter stopped. For the first time, he seemed genuinely curious. "Oh?" he said, his figure slowly materializing on the stage before you, like a shadow taking shape. "And what would that condition be, Y/n?"

You looked him in the eye, hands on your hips. "You can touch me... but only by dancing with me. Nothing else."

Heeseung tilted his head, his gaze scrutinizing you with a mix of surprise and mischief. "Dance with you, you say?"

You nodded without looking away. "If you're as good as you say, prove it. But no tricks, no games. We dance, and that's it."

For a moment, Heeseung stood silent, as if weighing the offer. Then a slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. "Interesting," he murmured, taking a few steps toward you. "I have to admit, I like you. You’ve got courage, and I love challenges."

He stopped just a few inches from you, bending slightly to look you in the eye. "I accept. But I hope you know what you're getting into. Dancing with me might be... overwhelming."

You crossed your arms, hiding the tremor running through your body. "We’ll see," you pulled your phone from your pocket and, with a decisive gesture, selected the Swan Lake symphony. The dramatic sound of the melody filled the theater, bouncing off the empty walls and creating a surreal atmosphere. Heeseung watched you with those dark, intense eyes, an unreadable smile on his lips.

"Let’s dance," you said. Heeseung didn’t respond but moved toward you with an unsettling grace as if he were the absolute master of every single movement. He took your hand, guiding you to the center of the stage, and placed his other hand on your waist.

The dance started slowly, but every step was full of tension. You moved with the precision of a trained ballerina, your body lines perfect, but Heeseung... he was different. Every move he made was hypnotic, supernatural. His hold was firm and confident, but there was something possessive about the way his fingers grazed your skin, the way he led you.

You felt Heeseung's breath near your neck, and every touch felt like an electric shock. It was impossible to ignore his presence, the way his body seemed to envelop you even when he took a step back. The rhythm of the song intensified, as did your dance. Heeseung made you spin and pulled you closer, and every time your hands touched, you felt a shiver of fear and desire.

But there was something darker in his movements. It wasn’t just a dance: it felt like Heeseung was trying to assert dominance over you, bending you to his will through every step. When he pulled you into a pas de deux, you felt your body stiffen. It wasn’t just a touch: it was a primal desire, a need to possess.

The song was nearing its end, and with a decisive gesture, you pulled away from him, breaking the contact. You took a step back, your breath heavy, looking at him with a silent challenge.

But Heeseung wasn’t about to let you go. With a quick movement, he closed the distance, grabbing your hips and pulling you against him. Before you could react, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was violent and passionate, like a storm that overwhelmed you. You tried to resist, your hands pressing against his chest, but Heeseung’s hold was ironclad. His hands moved along your back, his touch was cold but strangely electrifying. You could feel his palms slide across your skin through the thin fabric of your leggings, and every fiber of your being screamed to fight back.

When you tried to pull away, Heeseung deepened the kiss, one hand moving to the back of your neck to keep you from escaping. You weren't going to give up so easily. With a sudden jerk, you tried to break free, but the way Heeseung held you, the warmth mixed with the cold, made it impossible.

With a sudden jolt, you tried to break free, but the way Heeseung held you, the warmth mixing with the coldness of his body, made you waver as his tongue met yours, and as your tongues and mouths danced in sync, a soft moan escaped your lips. Shortly after, a sudden sound interrupted the intensity of the moment: a slow, rhythmic clap. You opened your eyes, heart pounding, and saw that the spectral figures had returned. They were there, seated among the rows of chairs, clapping.

Your blood ran cold. They had never left. You forcefully pulled away from Heeseung, your eyes wide in horror. He stood still, his usual smile on his lips. "I told you, they’re always here," he whispered, his tone almost amused.

You looked around, breath short. The ghosts continued clapping, their faces pale and hollow, but with an expression that seemed... pleased. It was as if they were approving of what they had seen.

“You’re sick,” you said, your voice trembling but filled with anger. Heeseung chuckled, tilting his head. “Maybe. But you can’t deny that we danced beautifully and that you’ll always remember our struggle to kiss.”

You turned toward the exit, your body trembling from the adrenaline. You had to leave, but you knew this wasn’t over. Not yet. And especially not with someone like Heeseung.

Night had fallen, and finally, alone in your room, you had curled up in bed, wrapped in the covers. There was no one else who could see you, no one who could hear you. But inside, you felt that sense of dread tormenting you since the night of the ball—it wouldn’t let go. Every time you closed your eyes, the images of the ghosts sitting in that theater and their hands clapping together echoed in your mind, like a recurring nightmare you couldn’t shake off.

You sat up, running a hand over your face as tears continued to flow unchecked from your lashes. You had tried everything: chamomile, sleep candies, but the pain, the fear, and the anxiety wouldn’t go away. Your mind felt trapped, suspended in a spiral of horror and loneliness.

“Why can’t I just sleep?” you sobbed, your hands trembling as you tried to calm them.

And then, the laughter. The familiar, distorted echo that pierced through the room like a knife. There was no doubt who it was, and you didn’t even open your eyes as you lay down. You were too tired, too tired to try to push it away again. “See?” Heeseung whispered. “I told you I’d get into your mind the first day we met.”

“You’re a bastard,” you said under your breath.

The laughter stopped for a moment, then Heeseung spoke, his tone still ironic and mischievous. “Ah, Y/n… you’re so fascinating when you’re angry and scared at the same time. But it’s not my fault if your fears call to me.”

Heeseung’s words hovered in the air, filling every corner of the room, and you closed your eyes, trying to focus on your breath. “You shouldn’t have provoked me,” you replied, your voice calmer but still shaken.

At that moment, Heeseung’s figure appeared as a blurry silhouette in the dim light. His eyes gleamed with an unsettling glow, but his expression was serene as if he were enjoying every moment. “But you’re so... interesting. How can I leave you alone when there are so many emotions hidden beneath that indifferent facade of yours?”

You jumped up but didn’t have the strength to shout at him. You were too tired. “Leave,” you whispered, a solitary tear sliding down your cheek.

Heeseung slowly approached, his smile widening. “Oh, but I’m just the beginning. What do you think will happen when I really start playing with you?”

You turned away, not wanting to look at him, but you could feel his breath closer as if he were trying to surround you. “I don’t care,” you said, your voice betraying a vulnerability you couldn’t hide. “I don’t want to be part of this... game. I just want you to disappear.”

Another laugh, closer this time, almost behind you. “Disappear? Oh, darling, I’ve never been as close as you think. The truth is, you’re more connected to me than you’re willing to admit. And you can’t deny it.”

You shook your head, but deep down, you knew: Heeseung wouldn’t leave you alone, not now that he had started moving his pieces.

You were forcing yourself to ignore the creaking of the bed, but the feeling of being watched was too intense. Every fiber of your body was tense, ready to spring, yet you couldn’t move. Heeseung knew he could feel it: Heeseung was there, like an invisible shadow, ready to make his move.

Then, without warning, a cold, spectral arm surrounded you, pulling you toward him. With a calmness that disturbed you, Heeseung held you close, his icy touch trailing across your skin, but there was something... different.

His lips brushed your forehead, cold yet surprisingly sweet, a kiss that made your skin crawl. “Sleep, little one,” he whispered in a soft voice, almost affectionate, but with that hint of menace that never seemed to vanish. “For tonight, you’ll have sweet dreams.”

Despite a thousand reasons to resist, you found yourself paralyzed by exhaustion and his embrace. Your body relaxed against him, and, despite everything, you felt lulled by his presence. It wasn’t a normal sleep. It wasn’t sleep you had chosen. It was sleep forced upon you. And yet, as your eyelids closed, your body gave in, and awareness slowly faded, swallowed by the abyss of dreams.

An unusual warmth enveloped you, a gentle warmth that contrasted with the usual coldness of your room. Something brushed your face, something light, almost reverent. A shiver ran down your skin. The touch was real. Too real. Your lashes fluttered as you opened your eyes, and your breath caught in your throat.

There he was, but not the usual Heeseung. Not the intangible ghost, the silent shadow you were used to sensing near you. No, he was human. His coffee-colored eyes were watching you closely, full of curiosity. You had never seen them so clearly. You had never been able to distinguish the details of his long lashes, the way the light caressed his deep irises. His hair was tousled, black as night, and his face... was real, warm, and alive.

You felt confused, lost in a reality you didn’t understand, while you felt his thumb caressing your cheek and you couldn’t stop staring at him.

“Heeseung?” you said, your voice trembling.

He smiled a smile that seemed to dance between amusement and mystery.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said, smiling at you, but beneath that smile, there was something dark, and the sound of his voice was deeper, more genuine. No longer a distant whisper in the wind, but something that vibrated in the air, resonating in your ears, and it took your breath away.

Instinctively, your hand moved on its own. You had to touch him. You had to know, you ran your hand over his arm, and it was warm and solid.

You flinched, pulling your hand back as if you’d been burned. Heeseung chuckled softly, the sound smooth and hypnotic.

“You’re... you’re real,” you said quietly.

“I am,” he nodded, tilting his head. Your gaze dropped to his lips. Soft. Full. So different from the ethereal fog that usually surrounded his being.

“But how is this possible?” He took your trembling hand and placed it on his cheek. The warmth of his skin made you flinch, and you felt his heartbeat under your fingers. He was real. Alive. And yet, something in his gaze made you shiver.

“The sleep I gave you... came at a price,” he said with a smirk, and a cold shiver ran down your spine.

“A... price?”

He didn’t answer immediately. He simply stared at you, those dark eyes seeming to read every thought, every fear. Then he smiled again, tilting his face slightly to the side.

“I never do anything for nothing, and by now, you should know that.” You felt yourself suffocating. Something in his tone told you that what he wanted from you... wouldn’t be something trivial.

“What do you want from me?” He moved just a little closer, his breath brushing your skin.

“You know very well, darling,” he said, amused. You trembled under his touch. When he kissed you softly on the neck, a shiver ran through you. It was a gesture you hadn’t expected, such an intimate touch that it stole your breath. His hand, warm and sure, gently cupped your cheek, lifting your face with a tender caress, as if he wanted to win you over in a subtle, insidious way.

“You’re beautiful,” Heeseung said, his voice soft and persuasive. There was something in his tone that made you even more vulnerable, something that made you doubt if he could maintain his strength.

You slightly shifted your head, turning your eyes away from his. “No,” you said in a fragile but determined voice. “I don’t want you. I want someone real, not a ghost. Someone alive.”

Heeseung didn’t seem affected by your words. He started to laugh, but not a cruel laugh. Rather, it was a laugh that held an unsettling understanding, a recognition that he was something that couldn’t be ignored. It was as if he was amused by your resistance.

Then, without warning, he bent down and kissed you. The kiss was different from that in the theater, sweeter, more full of a disturbing calm that paralyzed you. Heeseung’s lips, soft and warm, touched yours with a delicacy he had never experienced before, with surprise you put your arms around his neck and caressed his black hair, soft as silk. You felt his body react against yours and you felt his whole body emanate the warmth that any guy could give you but how long would Hee be in her human version?

The kiss became deeper and you were torn between the desire to reject it and that of yielding. Then Heeseung slowly broke away, but his gaze remained fixed on you as if he wanted to read every thought that passed through his mind.

"I can touch you Y/n, it’s from the first time that I dreamed of touching your skin," he said with a disturbing calm, his words so persuasive to seem almost true. " I can be a better human for you. If only you’d let me," he said whispering into your ear.

The question floated in the air, like a promise and a threat at the same time. You could not believe that Heeseung, the ghost who had tormented you, was saying those words with an intensity that seemed... real.

"You’re not real," you murmured, but your voice trembled slightly, betraying a frailty you didn’t want to admit. "And that’s all that matters."

"I can show you how real I can only be with you Y/n" After this sentence, you felt his hands slide your pajama pants and without thinking pulled them down and whistled at the sight of your panties, You tried to close your legs but he was faster and opened your thighs as if you were at his mercy.

Heeseung sinks between your thighs, sinking a single finger in your wet pussy and needing to feel it.

Miagus at the stretch of his fingers, enjoying the delicious burning that runs through you as he adds a second one.

"You’re so fucking tight, baby," said Heeseung watching you get stunned just by the length of his fingers and imagining how nice it must be to sink inside you. He had dreamed so many times of seeing you bent to his duty and he liked to see you finally wring pleasure thanks to him, a half ghost that was now so obsessed with you that he wanted to enter even in your head and not only in your body.

He moves his fingers meticulously, picking up from your expressions and moaning every point he has to touch to make you gasp and groan. When he feels you clinging to him, he does the only logical thing in his mind and he leans out and starts licking your clitoris. You tremble, your stomach twitches as you tuck your fingers into his hair. Just to hear you writhing under him, he smiles at you, is sick, increasing the rhythm of his fingers.

"Fuck you, Lee Heeseung" gasps, continuing to writhe under him. The sharp tip of the tongue works against your clitoris without stopping, the warm breath flows over you as the fingers curl specifically inside you until they find the most sensitive spot that makes your knees shake.

"I want to see you come," he whispers, the ripple of his deep voice vibrating against you. " You have to understand that I can be whatever you want and I can be both a human who cares for you also a ghost who torments you"

Humming, a low and satisfied sound, tightening the grip on his hair and sinking further into bed while he licks your pussy, greedily as if it were his favorite food. His fingers glide effortlessly against your inner walls, pressing in the right way without resistance.

"Look how you’re getting your beautiful shiny pussy fucked by a half-ghost that you pretend to hate so much," he whispers, in a low and persuasive voice, "Come for me, honey. Please come for me."

And you do it, so fucking hard. Your body stiffens, and the pleasure tears you apart while his fingers remain persistent, pushing even if he feels that you are squeezing around them. His mouth never leaves your swollen clitoris, the tongue devours you until you unroll completely under him. Your loud cries fill the space and send a clear message to Heeseung: he has taken you, and you will be his.

When he hears you coming down, Heeseung slowly pulls his fingers away from you, sliding them into his mouth, his eyes fixed on you while he tastes you. Your heart quickens at sight, and your eyes flash with renewed lust, the mist of desire clouds every other thought and you drew it to you, and his lips against your own knew of your excitement and without thinking about it he made his tongue enter into yours and you groan with pleasure at the feeling of your smell in his mouth and without thinking about it you rub your dripping pussy against his cock that you felt it hard against you and he laughed at you and between one kiss and another said. " A few minutes ago you told me that you didn’t want me and that I wasn’t real but now, who’s the one who is rubbing like a slut against my cock?" groaned at the feeling of his words and Heeseung with authoritative act took off your arms that you had around his neck and brought them over to your pillow and groaned at the feeling of his hand clenched against you and to blush lips he said.

"I think you have paid very well for the sleep that I gave you, who knows maybe later you will pay me back completely with your whole body. Meanwhile, I know that both you and I have understood that you are mine!" You tried to move away but his hands held you still and you looked at him badly.

"I hate you, Heeseung," you said to him with a flaming mouth and he started laughing a dark fog made its way into your room and after a while Heeseung had left your arms and there was no one in your room, there was no more his color, There was nothing left of him and this made you even more afraid.

The night was cold, and the wind whistling through the gravestones created an eerie sound, almost like a lament echoing through the dry branches of the trees. You walked beside Hanna, pulling your coat tightly around you, trying not to let the tension overwhelm you. You had never been to a cemetery before, and the thought of seeing those silent specters wandering among the tombs sent shivers down your spine.

Hanna, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease. Holding a small bouquet of flowers and a notebook filled with short stories she made up for the “forgotten souls,” she softly hummed a melody that sounded unsettling in the stillness of the night.

“Y/n,” she said at one point, her tone as light as ever, “have you ever been to a cemetery before?”

You shook your head, clinging to her arm even more. “No, and I never wanted to be. But I didn’t want to let you come alone…”

Hanna chuckled softly as if she didn’t understand your fear. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, you know? The souls here don’t harm anyone. In fact, some of them are quite kind.”

Kind? You found that hard to believe, especially after everything you had been through with Heeseung. The memory of him still burned in your mind—his touch, the taste of his kisses, and the confusion he had left inside you. In the past few days, you had tried to bury those feelings, immersing yourself in training and studying. But now, the thought of coming face to face with his past—or a part of it—made you shiver.

You reached an older section of the cemetery, where the tombstones had been worn down by time. Hanna stopped in front of one, kneeling to place the flowers. “You know,” she said while arranging the petals, “there’s one gravestone that has always intrigued me. Do you want to see it?”

You nodded without thinking too much, trying to appear strong despite the discomfort creeping over you. But as Hanna led you to an isolated grave, your heart jumped to your throat.

The tombstone was simple, covered in flowers and plush toys of various kinds. The world seemed to freeze.

Heeseung Lee

2001 – 2021

“A lost soul, too young to fly but too alive to remain.”

You stood motionless, unable to speak. Words wouldn’t come out, and all you could do was stare at the gravestone, unable to believe it was real.

“Heeseung… he actually has a grave?” you murmured, your voice breaking with surprise.

Hanna turned to you with a mysterious smile. “Y/n, don’t all ghosts have a gravestone?” she said, her innocent tone contrasting with the weight of the moment.

You didn’t answer right away. Your hands were trembling, and you felt a chill creeping up your spine.

“I thought… I thought he was just a ghost who liked to scare people. I never thought he had truly lived,” you whispered, unable to look away from the stone. “A monster that tormented me. A madman.”

Hanna let out a soft, almost sweet laugh, though something about it was unsettling.

“Maybe he was,” she said, “but you know… Heeseung isn’t like other ghosts. He has a story that few know. He loved his human life too much, lived too little, and now he lingers among the living, searching for something—or someone—to make him whole again.”

Her words sent a shiver through you.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your eyes widening as you looked at her.

Hanna simply shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Maybe you’re the one he’s been looking for, Y/n. Maybe you’re more important to him than you want to admit. All ghosts, in order to relive, must seek out their soulmate or find them. Some succeed just a few years after death, while others wait for centuries,” she said, her gaze drifting over the gravestones of young lives lost too soon, finally settling on Sunghoon’s.

You didn’t want to be important to Heeseung. You didn’t want anything to do with him. But as you stared at the gravestone, another cold shiver ran down your spine, and a familiar laughter echoed through the wind—one only you could hear.

“Heeseung…” you whispered, knowing he was close. But this time, you weren’t sure you wanted to face him.

The practice room was dimly lit, the flickering neon lights threatening to go out completely. You tried to focus, but an unsettling feeling gnawed at you, something you couldn’t quite explain. The dancer you were training with, Lucas, was technically skilled, but every time his hands rested on your waist or his arms guided you, you tensed up.

No one was like Heeseung. No one had his touch, his precision, that almost magnetic presence that made you lose control.

Lucas, however, didn’t seem to notice your stiffness. At the end of practice, he approached you with a cocky smile, wiping sweat from his forehead. “You’re incredible, Y/n. I bet no one will be able to take their eyes off you at the showcase,” he said, his tone bordering on flirtation.

You forced a weak smile, unsure of how to respond. You were never good with that kind of attention. “Thanks, but… I still have a lot to improve. You’re really good too,” you murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Meanwhile, Heeseung—silent, invisible—watched from one of the darkest corners of the room, arms crossed, his expression tense.

Jay, standing beside him, looked amused. <<Didn’t take you for the jealous type, Heeseung,>> he said with a teasing smirk. <<<He’s just a human. Why do you care?>>

Heeseung clenched his jaw, eyes locked on Lucas, who was clearly trying to get too close to you. “I’m not jealous,” he snapped, though his tightly clenched fists said otherwise. “I just hate the way he touches her. It’s annoying.”

Jay chuckled under his breath. <<Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that.>>

When Lucas took another step toward you, Heeseung decided he had had enough. With a dark grin, he vanished into the shadows, ready to make his presence known.

The lights in the room flickered violently before shutting off one by one, plunging the space into near-total darkness.

You held your breath, feeling a sudden chill seep into the air. “What’s going on?” you asked, trying to calm your racing heart.

Lucas, visibly uneasy, tried to play it cool. “Probably just an electrical issue. Nothing serious.” But there was a slight tremor in his voice.

Then, suddenly, the mirror in front of you cracked with a sharp, unnatural sound, as if something had scratched it from the inside. A deep, distant laughter spread through the room, echoing off the walls like a chorus of ghostly voices. The stage curtains began to shift, though there was no wind, and one of the costume mannequins toppled over with a dull thud, slowly rolling toward you.

Lucas took a step back, unmistakably terrified. “Is someone there?” he called out, his voice breaking with panic.

You turned slowly toward the mirror and saw a shadow flickering behind you—elusive, undefined—and you knew immediately who it was.

“Heeseung,” you whispered, barely audible.

Lucas had no idea what was happening, but when one of the percussion instruments slid across the floor on its own, crashing down with a deafening noise, he grabbed his bag and bolted out of the room without a second glance.

You remained still, breathing shallowly, as silence reclaimed the space.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” you said quietly, glancing around with a mix of anger and unease. “Can’t you just leave things as they are?”

A cold, mocking laugh filled the air, and Heeseung’s figure slowly materialized before you, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

“I couldn’t let that boy keep touching you. It was annoying to watch.”

“You don’t get to decide who can and can’t dance with me,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady, even though your body trembled slightly. “It’s not your right.”

Heeseung stepped closer, his dark gaze intense. “I don’t care about rights. No one will ever touch you the way I did. No one is on my level, sweetheart. And you know it.”

You glared at him, feeling that same frustrating mix of anger and attraction that Heeseung always managed to stir in you.

“You scared that guy just because you were jealous, didn’t you?” you accused. “You’re really… a monster.”

Heeseung leaned in, that dangerous smile never leaving his face.

“ A-monster?” he mused. “Maybe. But you know what’s funny?” His voice dropped to a whisper, his words curling around you like smoke.

“You like monsters.” And before you could reply, he disappeared into the shadows once more, leaving you alone in the empty practice room—your heart pounding too fast, your mind a mess.

The next day, while Lucas was rehearsing a solo routine, a piercing scream shattered the air. You spun around, your heart hammering in your chest, and saw him collapse on the floor, his face twisted in pain as he clutched his ankle.

Panic spread through the practice room—voices overlapping, hurried footsteps echoing across the studio. You dropped to your knees beside him, your hands trembling as you tried to comfort him, but deep inside, a much greater fear began to take root.

When the medics confirmed that he wouldn’t be able to dance, a lump formed in your throat. You stepped back, your vision blurred by unshed tears. You needed a new partner. But everyone else was already paired up.

Hanna squeezed your hand tightly, her eyes filled with concern. ‘There has to be a solution.’

Kira tried to encourage you. -If you want, I can ask one of the cheer dancers…-

You shook your head. It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t Lucas. The thought of your scholarship slipping through your fingers was unbearable. You couldn’t give up. Not now.

That night, with your recital tutu tucked beneath a hoodie and ballet shoes on your feet, you stepped through the doors of the theater, your heart pounding in your chest. The theater was drenched in darkness, the stage empty, the rows of seats silent like shadows—but you knew he was there. You knew he was watching, lurking like a taunting specter, waiting for you to leave.

But you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Instead, you strode onto his stage—the one he used only for his damned performances, for the souls who belonged to him—and without hesitation, you started the music.

Hip-hop.

A genre he despised. You moved with raw energy, challenging him. Every step, every motion was a silent insult to his presence. You knew it would infuriate him. You knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. And sure enough, minutes later, the air in the room shifted. A chill prickled down your spine.

In the mirror’s reflection, a shadow materialized behind you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice cut through the silence like a blade. You turned slowly, your breath uneven. Heeseung stood there—his hair tousled, his dark eyes burning with irritation. You met his gaze with fierce anger, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “Finally, you decide to show yourself.”

He crossed his arms, his face unreadable. “Did you have fun?” You stepped closer, fists clenched. “Lucas got hurt today.”

Heeseung arched a brow, appearing utterly bored. “And?”

Your throat tightened. That indifferent tone, that careless glint in his gaze…

“And,” you hissed, “I’d bet anything you had something to do with it.” The smile that stretched across his lips was venomous.

“Oh, sweetheart…” He sighed, feigning disappointment. “You make me sound like a monster.”

Your blood boiled. “You are one. Heeseung took a slow step forward, and the air grew colder. “If it had been me, do you really think he’d have only sprained his ankle?”

The way he said it made your stomach twist. You glared at him. “Why are you so obsessed with me?”

A flicker of something—amusement? hunger?—crossed his eyes. “Me?” He took another step closer, his shadow blending with yours. “You’re the one who came looking for me.”

Your breath hitched when Heeseung grabbed your wrist. His touch was warm—too warm, too human. You found yourself trapped between him and the stage, his gaze scanning your every move. You shoved him back, but his grip tightened.

“What do you want?” he demanded, his voice edged with frustration. And you, shaking with anger, shouted back the truth.

“ U need your help.” His expression flickered with surprise.

“For the performance I was supposed to do with Lucas,” you continued, your voice strained. “You’re the only one with the grace of a real dancer.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Oh? So now you need me? After everything you’ve said about me, about how much you hate me… now you’re asking for my help?”

“Yes,” you admitted, your pride stinging with every word. “I’m asking for help. But if you don’t want to, then at least stop tormenting me. Leave me alone.”

Heeseung stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, shifting between irritation and something else—something darker. Then, suddenly, he leaned in, his face mere inches from yours.

“I torment you because I like it,” he murmured, his voice low, dangerous. “But helping you… I’m not sure you deserve the privilege of dancing with me.”

Your hands curled into fists, your heart pounding. “Then prove it. Prove you’re the best dancer in this theater. If you don’t, maybe you’re not as great as you think you are.” The challenge landed like a slap.

His eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sinister smile. “Fine,” he said. “But if we dance together, it won’t be like with Lucas or anyone else. I don’t hold back. Are you sure you can handle it?”

You locked eyes with him, your body trembling, but your determination unshaken.

“I’m sure.” Heeseung let out a dark, rasping chuckle that echoed through the empty theater. His gaze raked over you, head tilting slightly.

“Are you still sure, Y/n?” he whispered, his voice a silken taunt. “Still so determined… even when you find out what I want in return?” Your body went rigid. You already knew. You hated him for it.

You hated him because every fiber of your being rebelled against the idea of surrendering to him—but at the same time, every time he was close, every time his voice curled around you like an invisible touch, your heart raced like a trapped animal.

You glared at him, your hands clenched into fists. “You don’t even have to say it.” Your voice was a low, furious whisper, thick with frustration and something else—something unspoken, burning beneath your skin. “I already know.” And before he could reply, before that arrogant smirk could spread across his lips— You grabbed the collar of his hoodie and crashed your mouth against his. For a second, you felt him tense, caught off guard. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be the one to give in.

But then your teeth grazed his lower lip, biting down just enough—enough to make him let out a low, shuddering sound from deep in his throat.

And something inside him snapped.

His warm and strong hands slipped under your pink tutu like a good girl, fingers touching the skin of your thigh as he drew you to herself with an almost desperate need. The kiss became fierce, a duel without winners. It was angry, hungry, a mix of desire and hatred that burned like fire on the skin.

He lifted you effortlessly, his hands firmly on your thighs, and you wrapped his legs around his waist, feeling trapped in its warmth, in its absolute dominion.

Your lips left hers only to go down his neck, your hot kisses becoming bites, signs of declaration. Heeseung shivered under your touch, his fingers sinking into your flesh with almost brutal intensity.

«Damnation,» he hissed against your skin, his breath gasping. He took you near a couch where you spent hours sleeping and you sat on him, Heeseung began to shower you with kisses on the neck and his big hands went behind your back where he pulled the laces of your tutu very slowly, your body trembled and belonged to him, devoted only to remembering the touch of his hands in your body, The curve of his cock became more and more intense under your panties and groaning as he took off your tutu and slid down your skirt of feathers and his eyes did not stop to adore you and look at you. "so beautiful" mumbles, pulling out his tongue to lick the crack between your tits, "I want to touch you everywhere, make you feel so good". You can’t help but groan at the sensation of his lips wrapping around your hardened nipple, moaning softly as he sucks it, carefully passing his tongue over the small lump - your other breast is firmly inserted in his palm, The thumb plays with it just like he does with his mouth and squeezes it as he feels that you slowly began to swing over his erect cock that slowly was getting harder and bigger.

Your excited fingers play with the hem of his oversized t-shirt, earning a smug smile as he pulls off his t-shirt; you’d never seen him bare-chested and for being half-human and ghost he was in great shape. Your fingers solicited his biceps as he held you firmly against him.

"Do you like what you see, darling?" moaning as he hears that you’ve been pregnant with him kissing his bare chest dotted by the abs. " For a half-ghost, I’d say you envy some dancers!" Heeseung laughed "God, it’s the first time you’ve ever complimented me" and you told him not to get too excited because maybe he was the only one.

"I want to hear you, Heeseung, weren’t you the one who held my body? Where is the spear that tormented me?" Heeseung almost pursed to the feeling of your tongue kissing and tickling his navel and then the V-line, suppressing the need to push your hips into your warmth from below.

His hands carelessly rip your socks, leaving you only with sports panties, your soaked underwear meets his erection as he pulls you back on his legs, his hands sitting on your waist, groan timidly because the bend of his cock pressed on your skin as if it had been modeled for you, your folds were needed that clings to his boxers and your clitoris pulsates, He pulses begging for another taste of friction as you began to swing faster above him. "Stand up slightly baby, I need to see how much your pussy is looking forward to being filled" groan at the feeling of his biceps pulling you up slightly, and with a little innocent smile, your fingers slip under the belt of your panties before pulling them away from your legs lifted, Heeseung moans at the sight of your naked pussy, Smooth attached to the fabric and shining on your femininity and think that Could come right in his boxers.

"Take them off too Heeseung" you said in a low voice but he laughed

"I don’t take orders from anyone, especially not from a human who came crawling here for my help." But you were tired of his attitude and you got up suddenly from him and pulled down his pants and a grin formed on your lips at the sight of his boxer Calvin Klein fucking liquid in the tip of his cock.

"But this human is making you come like a boy who has never seen a pussy in his life!" You teased him and pulled them down in one slow motion.

“I can’t stand you" Heeseung as he grabs the flesh of your ass, pulling you to sit on his stiff length, swearing in feeling how soft you are, how much excitement really overflows from your body, and how much he can’t wait to sink inside you and fill you with his cock and cum.

You touched and pumped it slowly and some light liquid flowed out of its length but Heeseung was an asshole and took your hands and put them behind your back and looked at him with curious but also terrified eyes. " Tell me you want me, tell me you want to be filled by my cock, tell me that for you this is not just sex and you can ride me like a slut that you are darling" he said in a low voice as you heard his cock torturing the entrance of your vaginal lips, you shook your head, you hated him, he had always been a monster and loved to manipulate you.

"Y/n, I have a lifetime to wait but your poor pussy is calling me to be filled. So act like a good girl."

You rubbed against his cock to feel it more but he pulled back his hips. " I hate you with all my heart Heeseung but I want to be yours" An unsettling laugh made you shudder and lifted you slightly until your slime walls, you feel his cock inside you and a scream of pleasure filled the theater as you leaned your arms around his neck to support you.

"Oh fuck, Hee, you!" you whine, rolling your hips forward, mouth open when you feel him move inside of you, slowly, deeply as he moved his hips forward to make you fully feel his dick inside of you. You start bouncing on him, up and down, slamming your curved hips over him and he is extremely mesmerized and obsessed by your pleasure, watch how your eyebrows curl, as your groans invade his theater, How your tits bounce and grab them greedily while with a bud begins to torture him with his debris and with the other hand he pinches you.

"Look at you, you’re a real slut in riding my cock, you don’t even need my help" you tremble, fatigue already grows in your eager hips but you can’t stop yourself, you don’t want to stop taking every inch of his dick back inside you, Lifting his hips just to catch him inside, "it’s so beautiful" groans in his mouth, "what more could I ask for? a dancer is obsessed by me as I am" he mumbles in response and you continue to ride him and your pussy to suck incessantly while you feel the tiredness invaders but he held you close to himself. "A little puppet made just for me, only I can fill you, Only you could get fucked and take my dick so well by a half-ghost that you pretend to hate because we both know that underneath you’re being obsessed with me and you’re falling in love with this monster." gently slaps your clitoris, your walls tighten as it is beautiful, "answer me, Y/n" and another small slap in your pussy made you moan even more and you screamed that you liked it.

He feels his whole body tremble and furtively slips his fingers where your bodies turn into one so that you can draw tight circles on your clitoris, prompting you to shout his name.

"Hee-Heeseung" stutters, his thighs become stiff around him and you feel more and more warmth. "Just like that... make a mess on my cock baby, you did so well up trained, come for me" you screamed as you felt your orgasm hit you and then with two other sloppy pushes the milky cum of Heeseung’s cock squirted and hit your folds and with anxiously exhaling breaths you broke away from him and put your body next to his and your head hidden in the groove His neck and arms trinsered you to him because he would not want to let go anymore.

Taglist: @hearts4cheol @lovenha7 @in-somnias-world @heeseungxo @luvyeni @jayjw16enxp @jvngwni @jooniesbears-blog @gguk-n @cloudykim @enhaverse713586 @stormy1408 @jakesw82 @misssparklyprincess @bamguetismee @jaylajakey @arclviie @strxwbloody @steddie-steddie @jungwoosbaey @laurenmia65 @tasnemluvs @lovellydisaster @rikiscupid @simj4k3 @numnommz @sspidermanss @vixialuvs @smlbch @m3wkledreamy @xylatox @ikeulove @nishikio @ancnymcnzjy @sofiafromvenus @kayjiguki @azzy02

I don’t know if to make a pt2:)

Rebblogs and comment are appreciated

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staytinyzen · 2 days ago

Text

(Mis)delivered Confessions

Bff!San x gn Reader no gender mentioned for reader (Friends to lovers trope)

Sending a message to the wrong person.

Warnings: slight cursing for the first part? Ig that’s it

Word count: ~ 900 (~3min reading time)

You were lying on your sofa legs draped over the armrest, typing on your phone as you helped your friend draft a confession text.

"Y/N, I can't do this! There's no way I can tell him!" she almost yelled through the speaker.

“Girl, chill. You're overthinking it. You just have to be honest. What could go wrong?" you replied, half-listening as you typed out a possible confession for her to send.

She had been crushing on a guy in her class who she befriended on the first day but didn’t know how to take the relationship further, she was freaking out so she asked for your help before losing her mind.

“Hi, this might be random and maybe not the best time but I've been holding this in for a while… I really like you. Every time I see you, I feel like my heart is gonna explode, I can't stop thinking about you. If you’re not feeling the same, I hope this won’t change a thing in our relationship and we can continue being friends…”

You glanced over the message, feeling satisfied. You hit send.

“There, I wrote it. All you have to do is send it. Easy, right?” You said happily.

“Thank you I’ll try, can you send it?”

You were confused, “Girl I just did ?”

“I cannot see it can you send it again ?”

“Wait…” You sat up straight on your couch and looked at your phone screen.

And then... sheer horror.

Because the name at the top of the chat wasn't hers.

It was “Sannie^⩊^”

Your best friend.

Your neighbor.

“Oh fuck…” you really fucked up.

“Oh no. Oh no no no no!” you groaned, scrambling to your feet as panic set in.

Your friend asked what was happening as she had no clue what was going on.

“Oh no I did not just do that”

“Just tell me what’s happening!”

“I did actually send the message but not to you but to San… OH MY GOD!! I can’t delete it either, I have to tell him it’s not meant for him, I’m so dumb”

San.

The person you had spent countless nights watching movies with, stealing food from, and leaning on when life got rough—whether that meant venting about a bad day, sitting in comfortable silence, or simply knowing he was there, always ready to catch you when you stumbled.

Panicked, you scrambled to type:

"Wait!! That wasn’t for you! OMG, please ignore that!!"

Ironically, while pushing your friend to confess to this guy, you were pushing your own feelings to the side, not wanting to lose him, the person you cared about the most and loved so much that you preferred ignoring whatever you felt.

Yeah, great job. So much for telling your friend "it's easy" and the whole "what could go wrong?" speech.

You were panicking, even if you were to explain the situation, things would be awkward.

Soon enough three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.

You stared blankly at your screen.

You felt like you might throw up.

“I’ll call you later okay ?” You ended the call without waiting for her response, her crush can wait a bit.

You were still standing in the middle of your living room not knowing what to do.

Suddenly your phone buzzed:

Sannie^⩊^: “Oh. Got it”

That was it? Just “Oh. Got it”?! No teasing? No jokes? He always teased you!

Your phone buzzed again.

Sannie^⩊^ : “Who was it for?”

Your breath caught. For some reason, you didn’t want to explain the whole situation it felt too… complicated. It really wasn’t meant for him but what if it was the universe just pushing you because you’ve been hiding for a long time yet you weren’t ready for that.

So you took the coward’s way out :

“It doesn’t matter. Just ignore it.”

Sannie^⩊^: “Okay.”

The awkwardness in that one word made your stomach twist.

You groaned, throwing yourself onto your sofa. Maybe if you stayed here long enough, you’d just disappear.

But then—

A knock at your door.

You frowned. It was late. Who—

Another knock. Louder this time.

With a sinking feeling, you opened the door.

And there stood San, messy tousled hair, hoodie slightly askew, neckline slightly off, he probably just threw it on before coming over, he looked hot… and—frustrated?

“You’re seeing someone?” he blurted out, stepping inside before you could answer.

“What?” You blinked, slowly closing the door.

San ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tense. “You wouldn’t tell me who that text was for. And it wasn’t me. So who is it?”

You gaped at him. “Why do you care?”

His eyes flickered. “I—” He hesitated, then scoffed. “I don’t. I’m just… surprised, that’s all.”

“San.” You crossed your arms. “Are you jealous?” You asked trying to joke and ease the tension.

He scoffed again—too quickly. “No.”

But his ears were red.

Your heart pounded. “Then why are you here?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked away. “I just… I thought—” He exhaled sharply. “I thought I had more time.”

Your breath caught. “Time?”

His gaze locked onto yours, raw and unguarded. “Time before you fell for someone else.”

Silence…

A shaky laugh escaped you. “San…”

He swallowed hard. “Tell me it wasn’t supposed to be me.”

You hesitated. A part of you wanting to explain the misunderstanding.

His voice dropped almost whispering“Tell me, and I’ll drop this.”

Your heart screamed at you, but you were frozen.

Maybe you were meant to send that text to him after all.

#ateez #ateez imagine #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #choi san #choi san x reader #choi san x you #choi san x female reader #choi san x male reader #staytinyzenthoughts

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22ayla21 · 23 hours ago

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idk how u did it but im in my domestic! mydei era tq for this blessing i love being the mother to his children 🙏🏻

ok so you know how there's at least a small minority of people who are prejudiced against kremoans? im pretty sure that there will be less during peaceful times but! what if one of the more extremists were to try kidnapping or hurting mydei's little princess and her brother tries to protect and rescue her but he's technically still a baby himself so he gets hurt :( how would mydei react to all of this?

Attack

No matter how hard Mydei tries to protect his family, there will always be those who want to take revenge on him.

Mydei never thought he would have to face such a test. He knew that there would always be those in the world who would be prejudiced against his people, that in every corner of the universe there would be those who did not understand or feared their power. But he always thought that his family would be safe as long as he was around. His life, his wife and children - all of this was sacred to him, and he did not even allow the thought that someone could dare to harm even one of them.

However, it was not possible to avoid it.

One day, while he was away, a group of extremists who did not tolerate the presence of the extremists decided to take cruel revenge, and the target of their attack was clear - his daughter. She, as the youngest, was the most defenseless, because the eldest son, although still a child, was already taught how to protect those dear to him. So they tried to kidnap her.

Mydei's son, although still too young, could not stand aside. He knew that his sister was not only his favorite relative, but also a part of his family that needed to be protected. He, despite his age and frailty, rushed to protect his sister, but no matter how much he wanted to be a hero, his strength was not enough to stop those who were older and stronger. He was trapped, receiving several wounds before he could take refuge with his sister, as he could have under such circumstances.

When Mydei returned, he immediately realized that something was wrong. The house was quieter than usual, and the atmosphere was tense. His heart sank when he saw his son, who could not hold back his tears, and the frightened face of his daughter, who, despite what had happened, was safe and sound. But there was something else in her eyes - anxiety caused by fear for her brother. She could not fully understand what had happened, but her heart was full of worry.

When Mydei learned about what had happened, his inner world collapsed. Protecting his family was not just a duty for him - it was the meaning of his life. He did not know what hurt him more: that his children were the target of an attack, or that his son was so badly injured trying to protect his sister. Anger overwhelmed him, but he knew that he could not act with rage, so as not to create even more problems for his children.

However, his restraint did not mean weakness. Mydei held back his anger to give himself time to think, and before he did anything, he took care of his son first. He treated his wounds, comforted him, promised that everything would be alright. But inside, he was burning. He knew that no amount of revenge would lead to anything good. But for those who dared to do such a thing, life would never be the same again.

Mydei was not a man given to violence for the sake of violence. But he was a warrior, and when it came to his family, he made no mistakes. Those who tried to hurt his children, he did not simply punish - he created such an atmosphere of fear that they themselves, in panic, ran to meet their fate. The shadow of his threats was so powerful that they could no longer remain in this world, for the darkness of his wrath was unbearable.

Returning home, he was with his family again. He made a decision not to show all the horror he experienced, but in his eyes there was the same soft light that always shone for his loved ones. He was their protector, and that meant they were safe. In this world with so many dark corners, he was their light.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr mydei #mydei #mydeimos #mydei x reader

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mmirx · 1 day ago

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AFTERTHOUGHT ⋆⑅˚₊

Who were you if not unremarkable? You had finally come into terms that you are someone who was meant to stay in everyone’s shadow, but not until you met Caleb, or so you thought.

cw/tags: PART 2 of this, university au, non-mc reader, frat guy caleb (but not really important), angst, jealousy, self-loathing (please just lmk if i missed more cw, i just cant identify more as of now)

note: i dont know what im writing but im enjoying it, so suffer (kidding). the guy that inspired me to write this recently posted smth, so I HAD TO. he looks good and i hate it. nway, this might be shorter than i originally planned bcs 1) i might cut some parts 2) univ is so demanding

word count: 865

Scrolling through your archives, you saw a picture you took a year ago—one in the range where the archery team in your university frequented. It reminded you of the fact that it was around the same time when you started to orbit around Caleb's circle.

The first time you saw him was when you were thirty minutes late for orientation of the organization that you wanted to join. At first, you didn't notice him at all because you were too embarrassed to look around. I mean you were late and had to walk towards the front since there were no seats available near the entrance. Where's a catastrophe when you need one?

Anyway, after you introduced yourself as someone whose desire is to advocate for human rights, you finally had the chance to look around—you saw him immediately. Why? Someone that tall couldn't go unnoticed. His looks alone could prove the existence of a divine creature; God probably pats himself to congratulate himself whenever he sees Caleb.

You thought that would be last time you'd see him. It wasn't.

After gushing over him to your friend, you found that he's also in the archery team. They were literally teammates, so being the ever-supported she is, she devised a plan: you'd be tagging along during their training sessions.

And that started it all.

Initially, you started questioning why you even agreed to this since it wasn't like you were desperate to find someone right at the moment. However, after several attempts of your friend, Zan, urging you to push through, you accepted defeat. Plus, it wasn't that bad of an idea—you have a crush on him, so why not?

The plan was to present yourself as someone carefree and effortlessly cool. That was the plan. But fate is cruel—such a dramatic conclusion—because when Caleb arrived, you didn't even get to say ‘hi’ at him. Your reason? Nothing, you just happen to not be able to say anything because you froze. God forbid your mouth that seems to automatically work every inconvenient moment stops working the moment you needed to be social.

It was embarrassing, even for you.

A voice suddenly came from your back knocking you off your little reminiscing moment. You looked around to see MC approaching with a frown. There she was again, looking like an angel sent in the world of mortals as an apology for every sin that everyone had committed. You pondered every day how someone can be your friend at all too.

“Lost your hearing?" she said laced with sarcasm and affection.“I missed you," she sighed dramatically as she tried to take away your supply of oxygen with her embrace.

“Oh, dear, I know."

"Can we go get lunch together? I ditched Caleb for today.”

Oh. They were supposed to eat together? You didn't know what to feel as your stomach formed a circus within its premises. It felt funny and unsettling. To be honest, you're a fool for even getting surprised with how they do the most mundane things with each other. You hated yourself for having such thoughts because you guys were perfect as friends. It's starting to feel as if you were the problem with all these negative thoughts that you concoct nonstop.

“Serves him right,” you laughed as if you didn't bear any thoughts you just had, "but I don't think I can join you today, MC.”

You had to decline her but not because of your self-loathing! It just happens that you have to finish a group presentation today with people you barely know. Another challenge for you.

You heard her sigh dramatically—it almost made you laugh. Her theatrics never seemed to be on a time out. Truthfully, you wanted to be with her, too, because it might remind you more of the reasons why you were in each other's lives.

“Trust me, if this shit wasn't so important, I'd choose to eat with you." You tried to defend yourself to not make it seem like it wasn't out of willingness that you won't join her.

“I know, it's just, you know you're too busy these days. I mean, I know why because you're such an exceptional woman but still!”

You? Exceptional? Those words being in a same sentence doesn't feel right at all. Was she blind?

“You’re trying to flatter me! But I'll call you once my schedule lets me. I promise, MC.”

She sighed defeatedly as she bid her goodbye. You really did feel bad for not having been with her for such a time. You missed the times when you didn't feel comparatively smaller to her.

You walked for minutes. Gosh, didn't know university was a field for you to battle with so much stairs. But as you neared towards the range, you heard a familiar voice.

“I mean, I don't even know how I managed to put up with her.”

Was that him?

“Didn't you approach her only because you were trying to recruit someone that time?"

You knew that voice, a senior of yours and MC’s. They were laughing. You had a bad feeling brewing up.

All was confirmed when the first voice spoke again.

It was him.

Caleb.

tag(s): @justpassingdontworry

#love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #lnds caleb #caleb lads #lnd caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb x y/n #caleb x mc #caleb angst

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second-wife-playbook · 2 days ago

Text

The celebratory dinner was lively, with gifts, cake and adulation from the Duke's family. Coronis felt a little awkward sitting in the middle of it all, but at the same time she was feeling relief.

She was still sad for Forneas. Wishing there was a magical solution to his problem, a way to wave her hands and cure him.

If the university has anything, then perhaps I can find a means to cure him. She thought, deep in her thoughts over dinner as the conversation flowed. Or at the very least, I can see what happened to make him that way. And if I become a scholar, maybe I can move him in with me.

Scholars were prizes of the university, whose entire lives were dedicated to their field. They would be worthy of earning pensions and places of residence, and while they would not be the same palatial palaces of the royals, they would certainly not worry for money. Coronis could find a suitable household, nurses and doctors to care for Forneas. A whole room for him to draw in, and stimulus to perhaps help get him going.

@nebula-gaster

Coronis hung to the curtains in the main ballroom of the estate, and watched.

Watching was all a little girl her age could do. Stella was twelve and already showing off her dancing lessons during parties, and Andrealphus was fourteen, speaking in lengthy terms on his studies in geometry and mathematics, the basis of his education as a scholar and future noble already advanced for a boy his age. Coronis in comparison, was still too childish. She was still being taught the airs and graces, but her teacher often lamented that she was still too demure to be truly "noble".

Her mother frowned at such descriptions, and when Coronis saw her face twisted in disapproval, she had learned to hide away. The ballroom was busy and crowded as it was. After all. Grandfather Forneas was visiting.

When Coronis saw her grandfather for the first time, he was led in by two tall imps by the arms, gently guided to a cushioned chair. She had never seen an "old" looking Goetia before him. His dark feathers were speckled with grays, his eyes sagging and glazed over. And stranger still, he kept murmuring under his breath. She'd heard from Stella that he'd been a "nutcase" for centuries.

Mostly, Coronis thought he was simply frail.

So her family glided and presented themselves with grace. What a happy union they were, looking after their sickly grandfather, with such excellent children. They did not mind the missing third, shying away in the corner, and watching with her big, scared eyes.

#nebulagaster

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supernotnatural2005 · 3 days ago

Text

The Arrangement - Chapter Six

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: A night full of games and surprising confessions.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings/Tags: SMUT!(18+ONLY!!!) swearing, fluff, slight angst, severe denial, meddling

AN: We've got a lot happening in this one! 😅 But we're still only dipping our toe into the complicated mess of these two. I hope y'all are still following along lol! Stay tuned for more to come 🫣

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist < Catch up here

The next few days in the lead-up to Christmas flew by in a haze of finishing up paperwork at the office, - so you could finally close a lid on it all for the next couple of days - last-minute holiday preparations. Oh, and Dean.

After the party, it was like a switch had flipped between you. The magnetic pull had only grown stronger, the need to touch, to be close, becoming second nature. It wasn’t just the moments tangled up in bed—though those were frequent and mind-numbingly good—it was everything in between.

The stolen glances across the kitchen, the casual, almost thoughtless ways you found yourselves reaching for one another. Brushing against him when you reached for a glass, his hand ghosting over your lower back as he moved past you.

The way he always sat just a little too close on the couch, legs sprawled wide, his arm draped behind you on the backrest—an unspoken invitation, daring you to close the distance.

And you wanted to. God, you wanted to.

It was getting harder to pretend this was just about sex when your heart clenched every time he left after a night of passion, when you had to physically stop yourself from asking him to stay.

When all you really wanted was to curl up next to him, let your head rest against his chest, listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat while a movie played in the background.

When, during mundane errands, you caught yourself aching to lace your fingers with his, to make it real. To claim him, even though he was never meant to be yours.

But reality had a way of creeping back in, dragging you down from the daydream.

This wasn’t a love story. This was an arrangement, a deal struck between friends who knew better than to get tangled in feelings. You had agreed to this. You’d made your bed, and now you had to sleep in it.

But it didn’t stop you from wondering if Dean ever felt the same, if he ever felt this torn.

There were moments—fleeting, almost imperceptible—where you swore, he did. The way he’d watch you sometimes, like you held the knowledge to the universe, like you were something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have but couldn’t stop wanting.

The way his fingers would linger a second too long on your skin, his gaze tracing your features as if memorising them. Those quiet pauses where it seemed like he was about to say something—something important—only for him to shake it off with a cocky smirk or a teasing remark.

He never fought you on anything, never questioned the rules you both had set. If you brushed off a moment of tenderness, he’d go along with it. If you laughed off the way he held you a little too long after sex, he wouldn’t argue. He did everything you asked—never pushing, never demanding, never making it more than what it was.

And that had to mean something, didn’t it? If he wanted more, wouldn’t he fight for it? Wouldn’t he tell you?

The conclusion was brutal in its simplicity: it really was just sex for him.

Dean had never been the relationship type. The only serious girlfriend he’d ever had was Cassie. You still remembered how it had felt seeing them together back in college—how something uneasy and sharp curled in your stomach when you’d catch them holding hands or sneaking off together at parties. They had seemed happy. At least, he had seemed happy.

You ignored it. Pushed it down and smothered it beneath reckless distraction.

Enter Arthur.

A British exchange student with a devil-may-care attitude and an accent that made everything he said sound like poetry. It was wild, intoxicating, a whirlwind that consumed you for a couple of months. He made you feel desired, swept you up in grand gestures and passionate declarations. And for a while, he made you forget.

Dean broke up with Cassie not long after.

He never really talked about it, never offered much of an explanation beyond a casual shrug and a muttered, "Guess I’m just not the commitment type."

And maybe that should have been your first warning.

Because after Cassie, Dean never really had relationships. The closest to one you could think of after her was Lisa, but your thoughts didn’t linger on her for too long. Other than that, it was a few dates here and there, the occasional warm body in his bed, but nothing that lasted. Nothing that meant anything.

So why would you be any different?

The truth of it settled deep in your chest, heavy and inescapable. It wasn’t a matter of if this would break you—it was only a matter of when.

The night before Christmas Eve found you at the Roadhouse, upholding a long-standing tradition—one last gathering of friends before the whirlwind of holiday chaos swept you all in different directions.

You nursed a beer at the bar, lingering with Jo and Jess, the latter of whom you absolutely adored. You’d already threatened Sam with the dismemberment of his nads if he ever screwed things up, because Dean had been right—Jess was way out of Sam’s league.

Dark blonde curls framed her beautiful face, soft and bouncy, and as stunning as she was on the outside, she was even more so on the inside.

Despite being a couple years younger than you and Jo, the three of you had hit it off like gasoline on an open flame. Jess had a sweetness to her, but her sharp wit rivalled yours and Jo’s, and best of all, she was fun. Up for anything, always game to partake in your antics. She’d even taken Gabe down a few pegs when he’d tried his usual charm on her, and that had been especially fun to watch.

Tonight was easy, full of laughter, making new memories, with the kind of bond that only deepened over time. The more you drank, the more relaxed you became, letting tension melt away as you soaked in the warmth of your friends, your family.

Of course, your situation with Dean still lingered in the back of your mind, a persistent hum beneath the surface. And the drunker you got, the harder it was to keep your eyes from seeking him out. Admiring him from a far. In your defence, why did he have to wear that maroon shirt. The colour made him look downright sinful.

You’d kept your distance most of the night—part of the agreement was that thing between you, stayed strictly between you. Charlie was the only one who knew, but she wasn’t here, and thankfully, no one else seemed suspicious.

Still, you had to admit, the secrecy added a certain thrill, the temptation of risk making it all the more enticing. And so, as you discretely admired Dean from your place at the bar, an idea took root—one you were more than eager to set in motion.

As the night wore on, you now found yourself locked in a game of pool—doubles, losers play winners. You and Jo had already wiped the floor with Cas and Gabe, which wasn’t much of a challenge, considering you and Jo had been slinging pool cues since childhood.

However, your next opponents were Benny and Dean. Now this was a challenge.

And the perfect opportunity for a little fun.

Benny broke first, the solid white cracking against the neatly racked balls and sending them scattering across the green felt. A striped ball rolled straight into a pocket, earning him another shot.

“Looks like we’re stripes, sweetheart,” Dean smirked, leaning against his cue as Benny lined up his next shot.

“You think you’re winning already?” Jo taunted, resting her hip against the edge of the table. “We’re just getting started, boys.”

“Famous last words,” Benny rumbled with a knowing grin.

The game was close from the start, both teams evenly matched, trading shots back and forth with neither pulling too far ahead. While the rest of the bar buzzed with conversation and laughter, the four of you played like something important was on the line, the stakes unspoken but fully understood.

The others had lost interest quickly. Sam, Jess, and Cas had settled at one of the tables, wrapped up in a discussion that, from the snippets you’d overheard, had already veered into something academic. You rolled your eyes. Of course Sam would find a way to bring up philosophy or some obscure literary reference when he was supposed to be out having fun.

Meanwhile, in the corner, Gabe had Rachel exactly where he wanted her—leaning in close, hanging on his every word. Typical. He always had a way of charming his way into a woman’s good graces. It was almost a shame, really. Rachel was one of Ellen’s better bartenders, and you just knew by the time the new year rolled around, she’d be handing in her notice—another casualty of Gabe’s love ‘em and leave ‘em ways.

Benny cursing under his breath, after missing his shot, brought your attention back to the game. It was your turn now, and with only a few balls left on the table, precision mattered.

Which is why, as you stepped up to take your shot, you made sure to position yourself just right.

Bending over slightly, you lined up the cue with slow, deliberate movements, the hem of your little denim skirt riding up just enough to be daring, but also to give Dean a nice view of your ass. You felt his eyes on you instantly, burning into your skin like a brand. It was subtle enough that no one else would take notice, but he did. You could feel the weight of his stare, the way his grip tightened slightly around his pool cue.

A slow smirk tugged at your lips.

You made your shot—sinking a solid with ease—before stepping back and letting Jo take over.

Dean said nothing, but when he moved past you to take his own turn, you caught the slight clench of his jaw, the flicker of something heated in his eyes.

Perfect.

And just for good measure, when his turn came around, you plucked the cherry from your martini - not your usual drink but a deliberate choice - and popped it between your lips, sucking just a little too slowly, the tip of your tongue flicking over it before pulling the stem free.

Dean’s cue slipped slightly as he lined up his shot, and when he finally took it, the ball skidded just off course, missing the pocket by a fraction.

“Damn,” Benny muttered, rubbing his chin. “That’s not like you, man.”

Dean huffed a breath, standing up straighter and rolling his shoulders. “Just a bad angle.”

But the look he shot you told a different story.

The game continued much of the same, tension crackling between you and Dean like static. Every time Dean lined up a shot, you made sure to be just within his periphery—adjusting your low cut shirt a little too, purposefully, bending over just enough for him to take notice, grazing by him when there was plenty of room.

You didn’t need to look to know the effect it had on him. The way his breath hitched, the flex of his jaw, the subtle shift of his stance like he was trying to will away the tightening in his jeans.

Benny was too busy teasing Dean about his uncharacteristically sloppy aim to notice what was really throwing him off. Jo, blissfully unaware, was just thrilled to be winning. Meanwhile, the rest of the gang carried on, oblivious to the little game you and Dean were really playing.

And then—victory.

You and Jo erupted into cheers, jumping for joy when you sank the final 8-ball. Benny groaned, shaking his head good-naturedly as he clapped Dean on the back. “You’re off your game, brother.”

Dean muttered something under his breath, but when his gaze found yours, his expression was hard. Heated. You just smiled, all too pleased with yourself.

Jo swiped up the forty bucks in winnings, fanning them out with a triumphant grin. “How ‘bout a round on me? Mend those egos of yours.” She teased, flashing the boys a smug look.

Dean gave her a tight smile, but his eyes were already back on you, burning with something unreadable.

“You’re funny Cher.” Benny snarked with an amused shake of his head but followed her as they headed for the bar. Dean sidled up next to you as you began resetting the table for the next game, leaning in close enough that you felt the heat of him at your back, the scent of his cologne—spicy, with deep, woody undertones—wrapping around you.

“I didn’t take you for a dirty player, Singer,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp against your ear.

A shiver ran down your spine, but you masked it with a smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You kept your tone coy as you finished racking up the balls, then turned to squeeze past him, pressing your ass just a little more firmly against his front.

The low sound he made—half a groan, half a curse—was deeply, deeply satisfying.

You didn’t turn around as you sauntered off toward the bar, but you didn’t need to. You knew damn well he was watching, that he was still standing there, fists flexing at his sides, teeth clenched.

With fresh drinks in hand, everyone had congregated around the pool table again, this time for a match between you and Jo against Sam and Jess. However, Rachel asked if she could trade off with someone, more than likely to to show off a little for Gabe, you assumed. So, you let her take your place beside Jo, having plans of your own.

As the game carried on, voices and laughter filling the space, you slipped away, weaving through the crowd toward the restrooms.

And sure enough, you weren’t disappointed when, moments later, you heard heavy boots following after you.

You had barely reached the dimly lit hallway leading to the restrooms when strong arms wrapped around your waist, and suddenly, your feet left the ground. A gasp spilled from your lips as Dean lifted you with ease, your back pressing against his chest as he carried you straight inside. The door of one of the cubicles swinging shut behind you, and then—click—the lock slid into place.

Your breathless giggle filled the small space, excitement thrumming through you. “Impatient, are we?”

Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he pressed you gently but firmly against the cool stall door, his hands braced on either side of you, caging you in without ever touching. His breath was hot against your neck, lips hovering just close enough that you could feel the warmth but not the contact. It was maddening.

“You think you’re real cute, huh?” His voice was low, rough—like gravel and whiskey, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

Your lips parted slightly, chest rising and falling a little too fast, but you tilted your chin, playing along. “I am real cute, Winchester.”

He huffed a quiet, humourless laugh, nose grazing just beneath your ear as he inhaled deeply, like he was trying to breathe you in.

“Playing these games,” he continued, voice dripping with something dark, something desperate. “In front of everyone.”

Your stomach clenched at the way he said it, like he had been barely holding himself together all night, like you had driven him just past the edge of his control.

Still, you bit your lip, feigning innocence even as heat pooled low in your belly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Dean let out a quiet, almost strained chuckle against your skin, but he still didn’t touch you. And that��the unbearable restraint—was what made you dizzy with need.

“You sure about that?” he murmured, lips brushing just slightly against your jaw before pulling away, making you chase the phantom sensation. “Because I think you knew exactly what you were doing.”

Your pulse fluttered, and you swallowed hard, your body already begging for the contact he was deliberately withholding.

Dean’s breath was hot against your cheek, his body so close yet still refusing to touch where you needed him most. The restraint was unbearable.

Then, without a word, he reached for your hand, guiding it down between your bodies until your palm pressed against the thick, straining length tucked up in his waistband.

Your breath hitched.

Fuck.

“That’s what you do to me,” he growled, the rough edge of his voice making heat coil low in your stomach. His grip on your wrist tightened just slightly, making sure you felt just how wrecked he already was from your teasing.

You barely had a second to process before he was on you.

His mouth crashed against yours, all heat and hunger, his hands finally claiming your body like he was done playing, done pretending he had an ounce of self-control left. His lips were bruising, tongue sweeping into your mouth like he needed to consume you, like he was starved.

You moaned into him, hands scrambling at his belt buckle, fingers fumbling in your desperation to free him. Meanwhile, his rough, calloused fingers slipped beneath your skirt, dragging your panties down in one fluid motion. You barely managed to kick them aside before he was hiking your skirt up over your hips, gripping you like a man possessed.

Then, strong arms lifted you with ease, pressing you against the cold metal of the stall door.

A low, needy whimper escaped you as you felt him, thick and hot, rubbing against your entrance.

“Fuck,” he breathed, forehead resting against yours, his breath uneven.

And then, with one sharp, fluid thrust, he was inside you.

You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as your body stretched around him, taking him deep.

Dean groaned low and guttural, his grip bruising on your thighs as he held you up against the door. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart… so fuckin’ tight.”

He didn’t wait. Didn’t tease.

He took.

His hips snapped forward with raw force, the stall shaking with each hard thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mixing with the broken, breathless moans spilling from your lips.

Dean’s teeth grazed along your throat before he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breath hot and ragged. His pace was brutal, relentless, every thrust hitting deep, dragging you closer and closer to that edge.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, clinging, your body shuddering with every hard roll of his hips.

“God, Dean,” you gasped, barely able to form words.

He let out a rough, dark chuckle against your skin, his voice thick with lust. “Not so cocky now, huh?”

You whimpered, too far gone to respond.

Dean’s grip on you tightened, and he drove into you harder, faster, sending another violent tremor through the stall. The sound of metal creaking barely registered over the rush of blood in your ears, over the desperate, filthy sounds filling the small space.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he panted, lips brushing against your ear, voice wrecked. “So wet for me. Been thinkin’ about this all night.”

Your head tipped back against the door, pleasure winding tight in your core, heat pooling low in your belly. You were close—so fucking close.

And then—

The restroom door swung open with a bang.

You both froze.

Your eyes snapped open, locking onto Dean’s just as a pair of familiar voices filled the room.

“Oh my God, my feet are killing me,” Jo groaned, the shuffle of heels against tile signalling she wasn’t alone. “Why did I think these were a good idea?”

Jess laughed, the sound echoing through the small space. “Because they make your legs look amazing, that’s why.”

Panic shot through you, your whole-body tensing.

Dean’s brows lifted in amusement, but before you could move—before you could even think—his hand clamped over your mouth.

You barely had a second to register what was happening before he moved.

Slow. Deliberate.

The thick slide of him dragged against your sensitive walls, teasing the very spot that had you seeing stars just moments ago.

Your eyes widened in alarm; your muffled whimper swallowed by his palm. Your look screaming: What the hell are you doing?!

Dean’s lips curled into a devilish smirk. His breath ghosted over your cheek as he murmured, barely above a whisper, “Payback, sweetheart.”

Then he did it again.

And again.

The slow, deep roll of his hips was agonising, each measured thrust sending shockwaves through your trembling body. The pleasure that had been so close to snapping before was now drawn out, stretched taut, leaving you aching, desperate.

Jo and Jess kept talking, completely oblivious.

You, however, could barely hear a word.

Your fingers dug into Dean’s shoulders, your thighs trembling around his hips, betraying you. You were completely at his mercy, your body reacting despite the overwhelming torture of keeping quiet.

Your vision blurred, your breath hot and uneven against his palm as he continued his torment.

“…Dean’s been acting weird tonight, though,” Jess mused, her voice pulling through the haze, casual, clueless.

Dean stilled for half a second—then, with a smug gleam in his eyes, pushed deeper.

Your whole body jolted, eyes crossing for a brief, dizzying moment.

Jo snorted. “Dean’s always weird. That man wouldn’t know normal if it smacked him in the face.”

You barely held back a whimper, your head knocking against the stall door as another slow, perfect roll of his hips sent fire licking through your veins.

It was unbearable.

You wanted to beg—for him to stop, for him to keep going, you didn’t even know anymore.

Your body was a trembling, oversensitive mess, and Dean knew it.

Fucking bastard was enjoying every second of this.

Finally—finally—after what felt like a damn eternity you heard the door creak open and the sound of their footsteps and voices retreating, before the door clicked shut.

And then silence.

Dean waited exactly one second before tearing his hand away from your mouth, grabbing your thighs in a bruising grip, and slamming into you hard.

A strangled cry tore from your throat as all the built-up tension, all the torturous teasing, snapped like a live wire.

“All that fuckin’ teasing,” Dean growled, driving into you again, the stall shaking violently with the force. “You think you can just play with me like that? In front of everyone?”

You were too far gone to respond, too overwhelmed to do anything but take it as he fucked you with raw, punishing force, all the restraint from before gone.

The world blurred around you, everything fading but the feel of him, the way his body moved against yours, how he took exactly what he wanted.

It wasn’t long before your orgasm slammed into you, hitting you so hard your vision went white.

Dean followed seconds later, hips snapping into yours as he spilled into you with a rough, shuddering groan.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

The only sound was your mingled, uneven breaths, the only sensation the lingering sparks racing through your veins.

Then Dean exhaled a slow, shaky breath.

“…Yeah,” he rasped, lips brushing against your jaw. “That’s what you get for teasing me.”

His playful tit-for-tat attitude amused you, a breathless chuckle escaping your lips as he steadied you, helping you back to your feet.

Your legs trembled slightly, and Dean quickly caught you, his touch surprisingly gentle in contrast to just moments before.

Once you found your balance, he adjusted his jeans while you smoothed down your skirt. You noticed him picking up your discarded panties, expecting him to hand them back. Instead, he slid them into his back pocket with a devilish grin.

“I think I’ve earned this prize, especially since I was robbed of the other,” he said, winking at you.

You froze, stunned, as he leaned in close, adding: “Besides, I want you to feel me dripping out of you, coating your thighs for the rest of the night.” His voice was low, dark, sending a shiver down your spine. “Call it compensation for your actions.”

Without another word, he slipped out of the stall, leaving the restroom with effortless confidence, his words lingering in the air as you were left burning, wanting more.

When you finally left the restroom—after deeming it safe enough not to look suspicious—you slipped back into the crowd, keeping your expression neutral. But you felt Dean’s eyes on you instantly, heat simmering from across the room. That damn smirk of his was ever-present, watching with quiet satisfaction as you subtly clenched your thighs, your face barely betraying the discomfort of the lingering stickiness between them.

Smug bastard.

Thankfully, the last game of pool was wrapping up, and you could finally take a seat, seeking relief from both gravity and Dean’s relentless torment. Two tables had been pushed together to accommodate the group, and between rounds of drinks and laughter, new stories began to flow, just as ridiculous as the last.

Dean, of course, had taken the seat beside you, his body an ever-present, unshakable force. On your other side sat Gabe, fully immersed in another one of his exaggerated tales, hands waving animatedly as he pulled everyone into his nonsense. You shook your head, laughing along, but despite your best efforts, it was impossible to ignore the occasional graze of Dean’s fingers against your thigh or the slow, teasing press of his boot against your shoe beneath the table.

He was hell-bent on continuing this little game, it seemed. And just as you were considering ways to get him back, someone else beat you to it.

“So, Y/N, I’ve got a question for you,” Gabe announced suddenly, shifting his attention to you with that signature smirk that always meant trouble. “One I’m dying to know your thoughts on.”

You eyed him warily but leaned forward anyway, curious. “Okay?”

His grin widened, and Dean stiffened beside you before a single word even left his mouth.

“Have you ever had a sex dream about a friend?”

The question sent a ripple through the group, some chuckling, others perking up with interest. But it was Dean who reacted the strongest, his entire body tensing, his hand curling into a loose fist on his thigh. His eyes snapped to Gabe in silent warning, but Gabe, as always, ignored it, relishing in the chaos he was about to cause.

You frowned, as if deep in thought, before shrugging. “I mean, it’s none of your business, but yeah, I have.”

Dean’s stomach dropped.

His head turned sharply to you, but you were completely unfazed, oblivious to the way he was practically holding his breath. He didn’t even have time to process his own relief or frustration before Gabe pushed further.

“Who was it?”

Dean had been banking on you shutting the conversation down. You had to. There was no way you’d actually answer, not with everyone watching. His entire body braced; muscles coiled tight.

You let out a soft, nervous chuckle, shifting in your seat. “Well…”

Benny and Cas exchanged subtle looks of concern. Jo, Sam, and Jess were already snickering.

“Now, don’t laugh, but a long time ago—senior year in high school—I had a sex dream about Cas.”

The table went dead silent.

Cas, who had been peacefully nursing his drink, froze like a deer in headlights, his blue eyes wide with quiet horror.

Dean, however, was having an entirely different reaction. His mouth opened, then closed, his brow furrowing like you’d just spoken in another language.

“Cas?” His voice was louder than necessary, filled with disbelief, offense, and maybe just a hint of betrayal.

You glanced at him, unbothered. “Yeah.”

Dean looked from you to Cas, then back again, like he was waiting for someone to tell him he’d misheard.

“What?” You gave an amused shrug. “He helped me revise for my biology test, and I don’t know—maybe it was the subject, or maybe it was just the way he explained things—but yeah, that night, I had a super steamy dream about him.”

More silence.

“Cas?” Dean repeated, his tone bordering on incredulous.

“Yes,” you drawled, exasperated. “For the third time, yes.”

Gabe, meanwhile, was howling. Literal tears were forming in the corners of his eyes as he clutched his stomach, unable to contain his laughter.

“Oh, man,” Gabe wheezed between fits of laughter, clutching his stomach. “This was so much better than I expected.” His voice was breathless, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

Dean shot him a look so sharp it could’ve cut through steel. If looks could kill, Gabe would’ve been dead ten times over. “You’re a damn menace, you know that?” Dean muttered under his breath.

You looked between the two of them, your suspicion growing by the second. “Okay, what the hell is going on? Am I missing something?”

Dean was quick—too quick—with his answer. “No.” His voice was firm, final, as if that one word would be enough to shut the conversation down completely. He shot Gabe a glare, a silent warning not to say another word.

But Gabe? He just grinned, eyes dancing with mischief, but for once, he actually kept his mouth shut.

The night carried on, but Dean’s mood had shifted. The easy-going, cocky energy he’d carried all night was gone, replaced with grumbling responses and an almost permanent scowl. He barely engaged, only speaking when spoken to, and even then, his replies were short and clipped.

Eventually, the group started to wrap things up, the night winding down as everyone exchanged their goodbyes. You went around, hugging your friends, saving Gabe for last. As you stepped into his embrace, he tightened his arms around you just enough to make it feel conspiratorial, leaning in so only you could hear him.

“For the record,” he murmured, voice teasing, “Dean wasn’t pissed about the Cas thing, not entirely.”

You pulled back slightly, brow furrowing. “What?”

Gabe smirked. “He had a dream about you. A very, very interesting one.”

Your breath caught for a split second before you scoffed, laughing it off even as warmth crept up your neck. “You’re such an ass,” you whispered, shaking your head.

Gabe just winked, giving you a final squeeze before stepping back.

Dean, who had been watching from a few feet away, narrowed his eyes at the two of you, suspicion flickering in his gaze. “What was that about?” he asked as you turned toward him.

You flashed him an innocent smile. “Nothing.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, shoving his hands in his pockets as everyone finally went their separate ways.

The walk home was quiet at first, the December air cool against your skin. Dean's hands were shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders drawn tight like he was bracing for impact. You could feel the tension rolling off him, could almost hear the wheels turning in his head.

You bit the inside of your cheek, debating whether to push. Then again, when had you ever been one to let him off easy? Besides, if this dream about you happened before you two had started sleeping together, you had hope that maybe—just maybe, this did mean more to him.

“So,” you finally broke the quiet, voice light, teasing, “you gonna tell me what that was about back there?”

Dean didn’t even look at you. “What was what about?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, don’t play dumb. Gabe basically threw you under the bus before I even had to ask.”

That made him glance at you, expression alarmed. “What the hell did he say?”

“That you had a dream about me.” You nudged him lightly, smirking. “A very interesting one, apparently.”

Dean groaned, tipping his head back toward the sky. “I’m gonna kill him.”

You hesitated for a moment before taking some mercy on him, attempting to make it seem as not a big deal as it was. “It’s normal though, right? We’ve been friends forever; we obviously find each other attractive—it was bound to happen, right?”

You watched him carefully out of the corner of your eye, giving him the edge, waiting for him to contradict you, to say something—anything—that hinted this wasn’t as insignificant as you were pretending it was.

That it meant something.

That you meant something.

Of course, you were disappointed.

Dean just nodded along and let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah, you're totally right.” You forced a small smile, trying desperately to hide your disappointment as you both continued your walk home.

Dean, however, was kicking himself. His agreement felt hollow, like an echo of what he thought he was supposed to say.

It should’ve given him closure, knowing you thought about it just the same.

But it didn’t.

Because now he knew this wasn't 'normal', and that it did mean something to him. However, your casual dismissal was just another reason as to why he had to keep his feelings in check.

For however long that may be.

AN: Okay so Gabe was a dick for that one! 😅 But then, is he maybe just trying to give Dean a little nudge? Again I can't apologise enough for these two! Believe me I want to smack them upside on the head myself 😅. I know it's a little bit more of the same, but we will be delving into new territory in the next chapter... As always, feedback is much appreciated ❤️

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester/series Tag List:

@bettystonewell @nancymcl @happyfxckinghorrors @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @fangirlingfromdownunder @cevansbaby-dove @star-yawnznn @piptoost @shadysoulangel @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere7 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @waynes-multiverse @jaredpadonlyyyy @impala67stellawinchester @bonbonnie88 @youroldfashioned @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes @rach5ive @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @kayleighwinchester @amberlthomas

Next Time...

“Hey.” You turned toward the deep, familiar voice, finding Dean making his way over. He was bundled in his leather jacket, but what caught your eye was the thick, dark blue scarf wrapped snugly around his neck—the one Mary had given him for Christmas. It was endearingly uncharacteristic, and the sight made you smile. He hopped up onto the hood beside you, the old metal groaning under the added weight. Only then did you realise just how cold you were, his warmth seeping into you from his proximity. Without thinking, you shifted slightly closer. “Knew I’d find you out here,” he murmured, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t need to say more—this spot held years of memories. The two of you had spent so many nights just like this, staring up at the sky until Bobby hollered for you to come inside. A comfortable silence settled between you, the kind that didn’t need filling. But after a moment, Dean cleared his throat, shifting slightly. “I, uh… I got somethin’ for you.” You turned to him, brows knitting in curiosity as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, terribly wrapped package—newspaper and duct tape, classic Dean. Tilting your head, you took it from him, turning it over in your hands. “How come you’re giving this to me now?” you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice before a slow, teasing smirk curled your lips. “Is it something dirty?” Dean let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “No, no, nothing like that.” But then his amusement faded, replaced by a nervous energy as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s, uh… personal. Didn’t think you’d wanna open it in front of everyone.” That made your stomach flip, and you glanced down at the package, peeling away the layers carefully. Beneath the mess of tape and newspaper was a small, unbranded white box—the kind that usually held jewellery. The weight of Dean’s gaze made you nervous, his tension almost palpable. And then you opened it. Your breath caught in your throat.

#the arrangement series #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #spn #sam winchester #spn fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean x reader smut #dean smut #spnfamily #jensen ackles #abbalina writes

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creatingblackcharacters · 1 day ago

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not the same anon who asked about "pale" skin, but I've been considering the semantics of that issue as well - Ice, can you explain why and how precisely pale/blanched/ashen read different to Black people? I understand culture/society and language and how someone grew up have an influence on this, so I'm not expecting a universal answer, but I'm genuinely curious about the specific connotations attached

I can see why you take issue with the word "pale" in that ask, so I guess my question is more why does one specifically read worse than the other? as in what's the framework, what's the toolbox I'm working with as a writer? - how does blanche win over pale in this context when blanche is the French word for the colour white? how do pallid, deathly pallor, sallow-faced and wan factor into this, when they're all variations of a similar thing? so which ones get a pass in a metaphorical sense, are there any? how does context factor into picking the right words? (for the sake of an example: pale skin vs pale brown skin) and which words do Black readers want to see if not the above? is it best practice to default to what's actually going on (e.g. they're in shock, they're cold, they suffer from blood loss and it shows)?

I'm an ESL writer so being able to navigate my dictionaries well is an important skill to me, and being able to contexualise these things always helps a lot in making better word choices (essentially - what are the tools I apply to get the result I need? is a simple definiton enough or do I also need cultural understanding and etimology? I write fantasy, so I do occasionally think these things to pieces)

It took me some time to answer this because- I have to be honest- I was quite offended at something you implied here 😅 I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, bc I don't think you meant to, but I will absolutely need you to reframe your thinking after this. I'm probably not gonna answer all your questions either, sorry.

They don't read different to Black people, they read different to y'all!

You must understand that, from some of the questions I've received, and from the things that many a Black reader has read by nonblack (usually white) authors, it is often clear that some of you do not understand how we function or even look as human beings. It's as though we're another species, sometimes.

And that is not brand new! The history of antiblackness in medicine and physiology is as old as racism itself! Thinking that we do not blush- even though blushing is a physiological, human reaction. "Paler", as though that itself is not a word used from a eurocentric perspective to describe blood leaving a pale face. Blanche is also a verb describing blood leaving the face, which happens to everyone, but like you said... Rooted in literal whiteness.

We use physiological descriptions for Black people because if we don't, y'all do not understand how these words- and thus the reactions- apply to us! Because sure, we could use "paled"- if yall understood that it doesn't mean we get lighter skinned. Sure, we could use "blushed pink"- if you understood that it doesn't mean our brown cheeks turn a whole different color. Sure, we could say "pallid as death"- the one time being grey would make sense on our skin, as it is dry- but y'all don't understand that that doesn't mean getting lighter skinned.

You do not understand me; you do not understand how I as a human being function, even though I know enough about you to write you up entirely! I don't think 'oh well when pale folk blush and the writing says "cheeks darkened", they must mean that they're getting more melanin in their cheeks!' That sounds silly, right? And yet!

We use this language because it better allows us to be a part of a conversation that doesn't happen when the language and thus the visuals obtained still default to whiteness. And this has an effect from storytelling to having illnesses diagnosed. We're literally dying out here because doctors don't know what to look for on our skin or in our bodies; doctors that think having melanin makes your skin thicker and that being Black makes you less susceptible to pain somehow, that Black women bear childbirth pain better (despite dying more often) or that being Black is a pre-existing condition.

These are not words I'd have to lean on, if I knew that you understood how my body works the way you understood your own (and hell, y'all don't always understand that either 😅). Alas. Hope this made sense 👍🏾

#creatingblackcharacters

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slutoru1207 · 3 days ago

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Variant!Invincible x Variant!Reader funny imagine

haha i had fun writing this

The battlefield was pure chaos. The Invincible War had brought together versions of Mark from across the multiverse, and now? Now there were also multiple versions of you.

And it was absolute insanity.

One Mark—dressed in a sleek black and red suit—landed beside the original Mark, wiping blood off his face. "Okay, not gonna lie, I was not expecting this many versions of your girlfriend."

"Tell me about it," Mark groaned, dodging a stray blast. "They’ve been all over me for weeks!"

"Sounds like a dream."

"It’s not!"

Meanwhile, across the battlefield, your variants had found their Marks.

"Hey there, handsome," one of you cooed, sidling up to a Mark with a scar over his eye and a much darker aura. "You look dangerous. I like that."

Scarred Mark raised a brow. "And you don’t look scared of me."

You smirked. "Why would I be? I’ve got a thing for bad boys."

Somewhere else, a more unhinged Mark—eyes burning with bloodlust—was being held back by two versions of you, both giggling. "Aww, you’re cute when you’re trying to kill people."

"Let. Me. Go," he snarled.

One of you poked his cheek. "Nah, you’re kinda fun to mess with."

Back with the original Mark, he turned just in time to see three versions of you hanging off different versions of himself. One had her arms draped around a Mark with a robotic arm, whispering in his ear. Another was poking at a Mark with white streaks in his hair, teasing him about how cool he looked.

And the worst? One of you had cozied up to a Mark in a full Viltrumite uniform—the kind that screamed evil overlord.

"So," she purred, tracing a finger down his chest. "Conquering planets, huh? That’s hot."

The Viltrumite Mark smirked. "You’re intriguing."

Original Mark nearly had a stroke. "ARE YOU FLIRTING WITH A VILTRUMITE?!"

Your variant shrugged. "I mean, yeah. Have you seen him?"

Mark groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I can’t deal with this. I can’t."

Meanwhile, the Guardians of the Globe watched the multiversal madness unfold, completely dumbfounded.

"Dude," Rex whispered, eyes wide. "I don’t know whether to be jealous or terrified."

Dupli-Kate sighed. "Both. Be both."

As the battle raged on, it became very clear that the variants—both of Mark and you—were a force to be reckoned with. Some worked together perfectly, back-to-back in combat, protecting each other without hesitation. Others? Well…

"Babe, heads up!" One of you flung a chunk of debris toward a Mark locked in combat.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t her Mark.

"THAT'S NOT MY MARK!" the original you shrieked as the wrong Mark got flattened.

"Oops."

Mark groaned. "I hate this war."

Suddenly, a new portal ripped open in the sky, and out came even more Marks and Readers, their outfits and battle stances making it very clear they had been fighting in their own universes. One Reader stepped forward, looking around with a smirk. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

One Mark, wearing an old, tattered cape, scoffed. "Oh great. More of you."

Another Mark, who looked far too comfortable covered in way too much blood, tilted his head at one of your variants. "I know you."

She grinned. "Yeah, you killed my Mark. Wanna make it up to me?"

Even Original Mark had to do a double take. "WHAT?!"

The battlefield somehow became even worse. One of your variants challenged a Viltrumite Mark to a sparring match, another was actively helping a villain Mark take down a Guardian, and one had somehow convinced a half-robotic Mark to carry her bridal style mid-battle.

"She actually pulled it off," one of your other selves whistled, watching in awe. "Respect."

At this point, even the universe itself seemed exhausted by the sheer amount of chaos. But through it all, one thing remained the same.

It was chaos. It was madness. And, somehow, it was the most entertaining thing that had ever happened in the multiverse.

Because, at the end of the day, no matter what universe they came from—

Marks were Marks.

And Readers? Readers would always drive them insane.

#mark x reader #invincible comic #invincible season 3 #mark grayson invincible #invincible fanfic #mark x you #invincible smut #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #invincible x you

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darkwitchoferie · 2 days ago

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The sun, moon, and stars

Summary: College!AU You and your bestie Felix got into the same university and things continued on just like they’d been since you met at 11 years old. Until his latest girlfriend, anyway.

CW/TW: Abusive relationship (briefly, not detailed), f slur used (not by members or reader), slapping (just 1 and not against or from any of the members), angst in the beginning, slow love-making (seriously guys, this is love-making, not sex), oral (f receiving), unprotected piv sex

WC: 5.8k

This fic is part of a series of unconnected best friends to lovers fics, the others of which can be found on my master list.

You weren’t even sure you wanted to be at this party. Yeah, it was meant to celebrate a soccer victory for two of your friends who were on the university’s soccer team, but big parties like this weren’t your usual scene. You much preferred smaller parties, events where you knew everyone or at least most everyone, and where you could actually hear yourself think. Still, the victory was a big deal for Chan and Changbin so you were there for them.

All of your friends would be there, which was both a relief and a problem. A relief because you had enough friends that you’d always be able to hang out with at least one of them. A problem because of your best friend. You’d been best friends with Felix since your first day in your new high school when he’d come up to you with his sunshine smile and offered to show you around. It had turned into the closest friendship you’d ever known.

And then, for you anyway, it had morphed into something deeper. It started out slow and you couldn’t really pinpoint one moment as when you looked at your friend and thought ‘yeah, I’m in love with him’. It was a series of moments – watching him help a little kid to laugh after he’d just fallen over, him always willing to spare a minute or two to listen to your problems and either offer comfort or solutions depending on what you wanted, the way he laughed after a disastrous attempt at cooking breakfast together – just normal, every day type moments.

All of that was fine. You found comfort in your love for your best friend, even if you didn’t have the courage to tell him how you felt. You reasoned it was better this way anyway – as his best friend, you still got to spend plenty of time with him and you didn’t risk losing him this way.

Then came Melody. She’d transferred to your university this year and had, to your eyes, set her sights on Felix right away. Not that you blamed her, or any of the others, for that. You weren’t blind, after all. But Melody was different. In every other relationship he’d been in, Felix had still made time for you. Your movie nights shifted to Thursdays instead of Fridays sometimes, but they still happened. He’d still answer your calls or show up unexpectedly for lunch. And in the beginning with Melody, it had been the same.

You’d done everything you could think of to be welcoming to her. You’d made sure she had a standing invite to movie night, you asked her about herself, tried to get to know her. It hadn’t mattered. She’d been, at best, stand-offish with you. Never outright hostile, but you could practically feel the hostility behind her eyes any time she looked at you.

Then Felix started pulling away from you. It started out simple, just a single cancelled movie night. Then it spiraled to the point where the only time you saw him anymore was in big group settings like this and even then, he barely talked to you. You’d heard more about his life in the past couple months from his little sister Olivia than you had from him and you’d only talked to her twice in as many months.

It was getting too painful for you to be around him now and you feared there’d be a day he’d look at you and you’d have no idea who he was anymore.

You were standing with Chan, close to his side so you could hear him over the loud music, listening to him tell you his perspective on the game. You’d been there – you’d watched it happen – but he loved to recount it, said it was different from the pitch, so you’d listen. From the corner of your eye, you saw Melody’s strawberry blonde curls approaching. Quietly, you braced yourself and hated that you felt the need to do that before seeing the man who was supposed to be your best friend.

“Hey guys,” Felix smiled as he approached, eyes on Chan. “Hey Channie, great game today!”

“Thanks Felix.” You looked over at the pair of them while Chan started recounting the game again. You couldn’t help but notice the way Melody’s hands were curled around Felix’s bicep and, though it was probably wildly unfair of you, you couldn’t stop from making the comparison to a bird’s talons in your head.

Through the conversation between the two men, Felix smiled, laughed, and nodded along appropriately, but he never once looked at you. It seemed like she’d been waiting for you to realize that because, as soon as you did, Melody caught your eye and you saw something malicious flash in hers before she grinned and tightened her hold on her boyfriend.

Laying a hand on Chan’s arm to get his attention, you made a vague excuse about going to find Hyunjin and ducked away from the group. You scanned the area of the living room that had been cleared of furniture to make a dance floor, quickly spotting the man you were looking for.

You wove through the crowd until you were stood next to him. The further you got from Felix, the harder it was to hold in the tears that had started forming the second you realized he hadn’t acknowledged you at all.

“Hey, Y/nnie!” Hyunjin’s reflexive smile dimmed when he caught sight of you up close. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to get out of here,” you muttered to him, holding back your tears as well as you could. You didn’t want any of these people to see you cry.

He took one look at you, glanced up to see Felix and Melody chatting with Chan, and nodded. “Lemme grab our jackets. C’mon,” he wrapped an arm around you, gently steering you through and protecting you from the crowd of people.

Out on the porch, you shrugged your jacket on, wind being high enough to make it chillier than you had expected. “Hey babe,” Changbin strode up the steps toward you and pressed a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “Hey Y/nnie, wha – what’s wrong?”

“I gotta go, Bin. You did great today, I’m so –” you swallowed back the tears so you could talk, “proud of you.”

“Thanks, but are you okay?”

“I will be. Don’t worry about me, Hyune’s gonna take me home. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Bin! There you are! I was – Y/N?” Minho joined you all out on the porch.

You loved your friends, loved that they were concerned about you, but you needed to be out of here. You felt the tears finally starting to drip down your cheeks and tightened your hold on Hyunjin’s hand. He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand and the two of you quickly hurried away, Hyunjin telling his boyfriend he might not make it back to the house tonight.

“You don’t have to stay with me, Hyune. I’ll be fine.”

“And I – not to mention Changbin and Minho at least – will feel better if you’re not alone.” The pair of you walked in silence for a few minutes and you were grateful you didn’t live too far from the house your friends shared. “Wanna tell me what happened?” he asked after a minute.

A sigh shuddered out of you. “Can we wait?”

“Need to be home?” You nodded. He wrapped his arm around you and held you against his side as the pair of you finished the rest of the short journey to your apartment.

~~~

Changbin and Minho strode up to where Felix was still talking to Chan, Melody still wrapped around his arm. Minho noted her grip tightening when she noticed they’d joined them. Felix obviously noticed it as well, turning to look at the pair.

“Hey guys,” his smile turned to a flinch as Melody dug her nails into his arm.

“Sorry, baby. Wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” The fake whiny tone in her voice grated on Minho’s nerves.

“No, babe. I’m good.” He smiled down at her then turned his full attention back to Chan. “So I was –”

“Sorry, Chan,” Changbin interrupted the conversation, stepping into Felix’s line of sight. “Listen, we just saw Y/N running out of here crying.” It was a little bit of an exaggeration, but he figured now was the time for exaggeration. “Do you know what’s wrong with her?”

“No!” Felix looked alarmed. “She didn’t say anything? Is she alone?”

“Hyune’s taking her home.”

“So she’s fine then,” Melody put in, trying to come off as sympathetic or understanding, but missing the mark with too much venom in her voice.

“No she’s not. Y/N doesn’t cry in front of people,” Felix shook Melody off. “She didn’t say anything to you guys?”

“No, but I can guess why,” Minho looked pointedly at Melody.

“What do you mean? Why’re you looking at Mel like that?”

“Because it’s Mel’s fault, Felix. No, don’t. I’m so beyond done with this, someone has to tell him,” Minho shook off both Chan and Changbin. Not that either had been trying all that hard to stop him from speaking.

“Tell me what?”

“Your little girlfriend has been isolating you from some of us. Making you stop hanging out with us. Surely you noticed that she didn’t dig her little claws into you until Bin and I got here? She doesn’t have a problem with Chan.”

“I don’t….” He turned to look at Melody for an explanation.

“You shouldn’t be around people who could be into you,” Mel elaborated in a tone that suggested she thought this was obvious knowledge.

“What?” Felix shook his head, confused.

“Oh. You really didn’t know,” Minho said. “We thought you were agreeing to it. Well, Y/N didn’t, but the rest of us did.”

“Agreeing to what?!” Felix demanded looking between his friends and his girlfriend.

“She’s been pulling you away from some of us. Not all. Not me, Seungmin, or Jeongin.”

“Just the fags and that girl,” Melody confirmed, shrugging a shoulder as if it were no big deal.

The effect on all four men was immediate. Changbin took a step back, as if trying to remove himself from the situation before doing something he’d regret. Chan and Minho puffed up, both opening their mouths with some vitriolic comment they didn’t get a chance to make because Felix stepped between them and Melody.

“How dare you,” he spoke softly, anger and disappointment leeching any emotion from his voice, despite it being written all over his face and body posture. “How fucking dare you say that about my friends. These are the most important people in my life and –”

“I am the most important person in your life,” she interrupted, furiously jabbing at his chest. “I am your girlfriend. What I want, I get.”

Felix stared at her silently for a moment. “You were my girlfriend,” he said, voice still soft but now dripping with disdain. “Lose my number, Melody. Forget where I live. Do not ever come back to this house or speak to me, or any of my friends, again.”

“What?! You can’t do this! You’re seriously breaking up with me over these fags and that bitch?!” Felix’s hand flexed beside him, aching to slap her.

“Here,” Chan’s girlfriend, Lisa, had come up at some point when none of them were paying attention. She grabbed Melody by the upper arm, spun her around, and slapped her across the face, leaving a bright red hand print. “He won’t hit a girl, none of them will. I will. Get out now, or so help me I will drag you out of here by your bottle-dyed perm.” They all turned to watch her leave, the now semi-quiet party quickly parting to make way for her.

Felix had no idea when they’d become the center of attention and while normally he wouldn’t be upset about it, now was not a good time.

“Alright, people! It’s not like you haven’t seen a break-up before,” Seungmin and Jeongin were making their way over to their friends, the former trying to get the crowd to stop watching. “Show’s over, go back to your drinks and dancing!” Steadily, accepting that the show was indeed over, the party resumed.

“Nice hit, Lis.”

“Thanks, Innie,” she smiled, accepting the friendly kiss to her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Felix shook his head, tears now gathering in his eyes. “I didn’t realize –”

“We know,” Changbin interrupted. “We know if you knew she felt like that, this would’ve ended ages ago.”

“She was clever with it,” Chan agreed. “Had to be to hide it for so long. Now what?”

“Huh?”

“We just told you your best friend all but ran out of here crying. What’re you doing still here?” Minho asked.

“Hyune’s taking her home?” he looked to Changbin for confirmation. The shorter man nodded. “Okay. Uh, don’t wait up for me. Might not be back for… a while. I have –”

“We know. Bye now,” Chan turned him and pushed him toward the front door. Felix took off, hoping to catch you before you got to your apartment.

~~~

You hurried to your room, flicking on your two bedside lamps instead of the overhead light, Hyunjin trailing behind you. You’d managed to reign in your tears on the walk and were feeling a little less sad and a little more angry. As you started to roughly scrub your light makeup off with a makeup wipe, you said, “I expect things to change with Felix when he’s dating someone. They always do, of course they do. Just like it changes when I’m seeing someone.” He followed you to the bathroom while you quickly washed your face then back to your room, turning his back when you stripped down so you could tug on your pajama pants and tank top.

“I don’t expect him to spend as much time with me as before, particularly when it’s a serious relationship. I don’t expect to be his top priority, even when he’s not seeing someone. I know I’m just his friend.” You sighed, grabbing your brush to brush out your hair.

“What I do expect, is for my supposed best friend to at least acknowledge my presence.” The sob you thought you’d suppressed finally worked it’s way up your throat and past your lips. You paused a moment, working to get yourself back under control and hold onto the anger that was keeping the sadness away. “I do expect a hello when we’re part of the same conversation. Or for him to be… aware, maybe? Of the hostile way his girlfriend looks at me. I don’t…. If she makes him happy, then fine, I can be happy for him. But does it have to come at the expense of his friendships?”

After you were silent for a moment, Hyunjin said, “I don’t think he’s happy. And it isn’t just you. I was a little surprised to see him tonight considering you, me, Bin, Minho, and Ji were all there. Wanna know why us in particular?” You nodded. “We’re the ones of our group attracted to guys. And, though he’s not my type, Felix is objectively attractive. She’s been pulling him away from the five of us specifically. Chan, Seung, Innie – they all see him regularly. Without her, even. But never us.”

You silently absorbed that, a little relieved that it wasn’t just you. Then you asked, “What do you mean? You don’t think he’s happy?”

“I dunno. It’s nothing I can pinpoint exactly, and it’s not like he talks to me one-on-one anymore. But you know how important his social group is to him. You know he calls us his family, and that he’s said how important having us all is. Especially being so far from his sisters and parents.” Hyunjin ran a hand over his buzzed hair. “And it might just be that I’m missing it, but I don’t think he smiles as much as he used to. And there’s something in the way he looks now….” He trailed off but you knew exactly what he meant, you’d seen it before.

“Like he’s going through the motions but not actually enjoying things anymore.”

“Sometimes, yeah. Like a spark’s missing or something.” You were oddly reassured that you hadn’t imagined that – that someone else had seen it. Of course, that meant it was real and you hated that for Felix.

You deflated, the anger leeching out of you. You stepped into Hyunjin space, pressing your face to his chest and shoulder when he immediately wrapped his arms around you. “I love him, Hyune.”

“I know.”

“No, I mean, I love him. Am in love with him. Have been for ages.”

“I know, Y/nnie. I don’t think the others do, I know he doesn’t. But I’ve seen the way you look at him sometimes.”

“How does she look at me?” You whipped around, out of Hyunjin’s arms, to see Felix standing in your doorway.

“The same way you look at her – like you hung the stars and moon just for her.” He looked at you and said, “Like you’re the sun of his universe, the point he revolves around.” Then Hyunjin pressed a soft kiss to your temple as he walked passed you, repeating the action with Felix. “I’ll lock up behind myself. Love you both.”

You watched the spot where he disappeared and waited quietly until you heard your front door close behind Hyunjin. Then you really looked at Felix and noticed the sheen of sweat on his face and how his t-shirt was sticking to his body.

“Did you run here?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Minho and Bin said you were crying, I got into a fight with my, now ex, girlfriend. Then I ran here.”

You walked past him, grabbing his wrist as you did so he’d follow you to the kitchen. You grabbed him a glass of water, pressing it into his hands. “Drink. You got into a fight with Melody?”

He chugged the water down before answering you. “Yeah. I uh…. She said some stuff about you and about some of the guys. I dumped her, Lisa slapped her for me.”

“Sorry I missed that, Lis doesn’t hold back when she hits.”

“Y/nnie, are we not gonna talk about it?”

“About what?”

“About what Hyunjin said.”

“Felix,” you sighed, looking away from him. Then, suddenly, he was in your space, forcing you back against your kitchen counter, his hands braced on the counter on either side of your body, boxing you in. You watched the way his forearm flexed as he gripped the counter.

“Nuh-uh, no denying or deflecting. He said you look at me like I hung the stars and moon for you. That you look at me the same way I look at you.” When you didn’t respond right away, he moved closer, face close enough that you could feel him breathe as he added, voice soft and sweet, “Like you’re the center of my universe, Y/nnie. Like you’re the sun I revolve around.”

“Felix, I….” You looked up, looking right into his eyes and froze at the love and hope all but beaming out of his eyes.

“Please tell me I’ve been wasting time trying to get over you,” he pleaded. “Tell me it wasn’t necessary, that I could’ve – should have – had you to myself this whole time.”

You didn’t answer right away, not with words. Instead you lifted a hand to his face, gently running your fingertips over the apple of one cheek, across his nose, and over the other cheek. You watched his eyelids flutter at the simple action. You cupped his cheek and whispered, “Kiss me, Li –”

You were cut off as he swooped in, claiming your lips in a soft, sweet kiss. One of his hands went to the back of your head while the other wrapped around your waist, tugging you as close to him as possible. You clutched the sides of his shirt in both hands. He tilted your head, deepening the kiss, even as he shifted you away from the counter.

Lost in the soft feel of his lips on yours and the sweet taste of him in your mouth, you didn’t really register that he was maneuvering you out of your kitchen and back to your room until you heard him close your bedroom door behind himself. You broke away, looking slightly confused.

“I’m sorry,” he shifted away a bit, his hands were still on your hips, but he backed off enough to give you space. “Too much? Too soon?”

“Confused. I wasn’t paying attention to us moving anywhere,” you explained, tugging on his shirt to bring him back to you. “Waited way too long for anything to be too soon or too much, Lix.”

That sunshine-bright smile you loved lit up his face just before he leaned in to capture your lips again. His hands slid off your hips, one going around to your low back, the other coming up to cup your cheek. More than once, during group movie nights or hang outs with just the two of you, you’d leaned into his side or lean back against his chest, and he’d wrap his arms around you. Those times you’d find yourself thinking how perfect it felt to be surrounded by him. This was better.

This time you noticed when Felix started moving the pair of you again and so you weren’t surprised to feel your bed at the back of your legs. You sat heavily, breaking your kiss as you did, bouncing slightly on the mattress. He knelt on the floor in front of you.

“Let me?” he asked softly, tugging at your shirt hem. You didn’t hesitate to lift your arms, allowing him to take your sleep tank off. He sat up on his knees, tossing the shirt vaguely toward your clothes hamper, leaning in to find your lips again. His hands smoothed up your sides, coming up to cup both your boobs. You moaned into his mouth, leaning into his touch as he swiped his thumbs over both nipples.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, one hand tangling in his hair as he continued to gently fondle your boobs, pulling little moans and pleasure-filled sighs from your lips. His hand left you as his lips trailed over your jaw and down your neck, then breaking away as he tugged his own shirt off. He pushed you further back on your bed, gently pushing you to lie down. He hovered over you for a moment, fingers tugging on the waistband of your sleep pants in silent question. You nodded, and he swiftly tugged your pants and panties off. He stood over you for just a moment, but not long enough to start to make you feel self-conscious.

“Beautiful,” he said softly, dropping back over you to reclaim your lips. You found your fists tangling in the sheets on either side of you, small moans leaving your lips, as his lips and tongue traveled down your neck and over your chest. Gently, he sucked first one then the other nipple into his mouth, batting each around with his tongue, and leaving them wet and hard as he continued blazing a trail down your torso with his mouth.

His right hand skimmed up your thigh, fingers sliding over and through your lower lips. He groaned against your belly. “Already so wet, baby.”

He backed fully away from you for a moment, shocking you with the temporary loss, to rid himself of his pants and briefs. You watched his hard cock bounce when it was freed from the confines of his briefs, moaning as your pussy clenched at the sight.

He hovered over you again, his cock leaking onto your belly to claim your lips in a soft, yet hungry kiss before he knelt on the floor, tugging you to the edge of your bed and sliding your legs over his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, palms resting on your low abdomen. Steadily, slower than you may have wanted, he pressed open mouthed kisses on the inside of both thighs, starting at your knees and alternating sides. His eyes stayed glued to your face the whole time, soaking up every sigh and slight hitch in your breathing, like he was making note of the sensitive spots.

Reaching your pussy, he pressed a chaste kiss to your clit, eyes still locked on your reactions. You weren’t sure why, especially given the patience he’d already displayed, but part of you was expecting him to dive in with enthusiasm. Instead, he continued to take his time, slowly licking up your slit, lips and tongue exploring your pussy like you had all the time in the world and he was trying to memorize every detail. Maybe he was. And you were totally okay with it, not wanting to rush, just wanting to feel him.

He wrapped his lips around your clit, gently sucking on the bundle of nerves and pulling a low moan from you. When he shifted slightly, using his tongue to part your lips and shallowly thrusting the muscle into your sopping hole, you sighed happily, relaxing back into your bed and not trying to speed up his steady exploration of your pussy. You threaded the fingers of one hand into his hair, not tugging or trying to move him, just holding on to ground yourself as he methodically ate you out.

You’d had boyfriends before who were willing to eat you out, but they’d always treated it as something of a chore, hurrying like they were trying to get it over as soon as possible. So Felix’s steady, thorough pace was new and really nice for you.

He laved his tongue over and between your lips, gathering your taste on his tongue, swallowing it down when he wrapped his lips around your clit again. He thrust his tongue into your hole as deeply as he was able, a slight smile curling his mouth at the quiver he could feel in your belly under his palms. The whines and whimpers he pulled from your mouth encouraged him to keep going, to keep slowly building you up.

As that coil in your belly tightened further, as your orgasm got closer, you couldn’t help but roll your hips against Felix’s mouth. He didn’t change his pace at all, still being deliberate in his actions.

When that coil finally snapped, your back arched off your bed, tugging tightly on his hair, the waves of your orgasm rolling through you rather than crashing over you. Felix switched to pressing gentle kisses against your lips as you panted above him, coming down from your high.

When you were able to, you looked down at him again and found he was still watching your face, his eyes sparkling in the lamplight. “You’re gorgeous when you cum, baby,” he said softly, shifting to crawl up your body, pressing open mouthed kisses to your torso until he reached your lips. “Thank you,” he said, capturing your lips with his in a brief kiss.

“For what?” you asked, confused, after he broke away.

“For letting me have you when you could’ve said no, that I was too late. For letting me take my time with you tonight. For being honest with Hyune earlier when I was here to hear what you both said, even though you didn’t know I was. And just…,” he sighed, dropping his face to rest in the crook of your neck, “for being you, I suppose.”

You wrapped your arms tightly around him, holding him to you. You knew, in that way that best friends know, that he didn’t need or want you to say that he didn’t need to say thank you for any of that. You knew he already knew that. Instead, you combed your fingers through his hair, gently coaxing him to lift up and look at you. When he did, you smiled softly and simply said, “I love you.”

He groaned low in his throat, leaning in to kiss you again. The taste of yourself on his tongue pulled you out of the sweet, cuddly mood you’d found yourself in and right back into a much more needy mood. You moaned, tugging him closer and rolling your hips against him, and felt his chest rumble with his suppressed laugh.

He pulled away with a smile. “Up on the pillows, baby. Come on,” he instructed, tapping your hip. You scrambled up and back until you rested comfortably on your pillows. He followed, kneeling between your spread legs, his own knees spread wide enough to rest against your thighs.

Reaching down to where he knelt between your thighs, you gently scratched your nails over his abs, watching the muscles flutter under your touch. With a smile, you filed that knowledge away for later. You couldn’t stop staring at him, overwhelmed by the way he looked just kneeling between your knees. Who knew someone could still be ethereal even in the middle of sex? You refocused on what you wanted, your hand traveling the rest of the way down his abs, intending to wrap around his cock. Instead, he stopped you, gently grabbing your wrist.

He brought your hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your palm and said, “I’ve been the stupid one, the one ignoring what was right in front of me the whole time. So let me take care of you this time. You just lie back and relax.” A thrill ran up your spine when he said ‘this time’, directly saying there’d be more times. You’d known there would be, all things considered, but you loved hearing him say ‘this time’.

He dropped down, forearms braced on either side of your shoulders keeping him just barely hovering over you. He was close enough that his chest brushed against your sensitive nipples with every movement. With one hand, he held the base of his cock, rolling his hips and soaking his cockhead with your wetness. Watching your face still, he slowly slid into you, his cock stretching and filling you perfectly as he bottomed out.

Breathing heavily, he reached for one of your hands, tangling his fingers with yours and pressing your hand to the pillow beside your head.

“Okay?” he asked, after letting you adjust for a moment.

“Perfect,” you smiled up at him, rewarded with a returned smile and a soft kiss.

He rocked his hips into you, cock steadily dragging through your walls. You were surprised at yourself, at how much this slow-ish, sweet love-making was making you needier and how quickly it was building you to another orgasm. You brought your legs up, wrapping them around his waist in order to hold him closer to you. That shifted the angle of your hips, letting him reach deeper into you than he’d been able to before. You moaned at the new angle, head pressing back into your pillow, fingers tightening on his.

Felix wrapped his other arm under you, lifting your chest slightly so your tits bounced against his chest with every thrust. His lips found your neck easily, kissing, licking, and sucking at the sensitive skin. You felt sure there’d be small hickies decorating your neck and shoulder and were thrilled at the prospect of him marking you for everyone to see.

“Feel good, baby?” he muttered against the skin of your neck.

“Perfect,” you sighed out, voice breathy and blissed out. “You feel perfect.”

Between the long drags of his cock inside you, the friction of his chest against your nipples, his lips on your skin, and the slight pressure on your clit, your orgasm was soon washing over you. Your back arched off the bed, pressing you firmly against his chest and your legs tightened around his waist pulling and holding him deeply inside you. He thrust shallowly into you, helping you ride the waves of your orgasm.

As you came down, breathing heavy, he gently pulled out of you, grinning at your whimpered protests. “’M not goin’ anywhere, baby, relax. Just changing. Here, roll on your side for me, yeah?” He gently helped your roll onto your side, then slotted himself behind you. A hand on your hip, he canted your hips back, arching your low back so that he was able to easily slide back into you.

Your cunt clenched around him as you moaned with the new angle. He wrapped an arm around your middle, palm pressed to your belly, rolling his hips and thrusting into you. You slid your hand over his, tangling your fingers together again. The way his cock dragged over your g spot had you building to another orgasm quicker than you’d have thought. Then his hand, the one you were holding, slid up your body to cup and fondle your tits.

He pressed his lips close to your neck, close enough that you could feel his lips move as he spoke just above a whisper. “Love you so much, Y/nnie. Can’t believe it’s taken us so long to be together. Mine now, right? You’re mine and I’m yours.”

You nodded frantically. “All yours. Always yours,” you agreed, voice breathy.

“Good. Gonna cum, Y/nnie. Can you cum one more time for me? Milk my cock with your pretty pussy? Please, baby?” You nodded, clenching around him. “Just like that, baby. Love you so much. Gonna keep you forever.” His hand slid off your tit, coming down to rub circles against your clit with his thumb. Your fingers, still tangled in his, danced gently over the part of his cock you could reach as he kept steadily thrusting into you. “That’s it. Almost there, baby. I can feel it. C’mon, let go with me.”

Your head dropped back against him as your last orgasm rolled through you. You moaned low as you felt him follow you, his cock twitching as his cum filled you.

You lay quietly together for a few minutes, fingers still intertwined, as you both worked to even out your breathing.

After a moment, he shifted, starting to pull out of you. “No,” you whined, clutching his fingers tighter.

“Want me to stay in, baby? Fall asleep with me still inside you?” You could hear your own tiredness echoed in his voice.

“Yes. Please, baby?”

“Okay. Anything you want, my love.” He pressed gentle kisses to the back and side of your neck as you faded off to sleep.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader #felix x reader #lee felix x reader

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misshoneyimhome · 2 days ago

Note

I don’t know if your requests are closed but I had this idea for a William x Reader. It’s quite long and specific, but do what you want with it. 😀

William and reader have been in the same circle of friends: they never were particularly close, but at some mutual friends and would see each other in social gatherings. Reader is from Canada, but studied or worked or has some friends from university in Sweden so she got in Willy’s friends circle. It’s been about 2 years they since they have met, and while they are not close, they have been some subtle flirting that has developed throughout that time.

However, during readers first time with her Swedish friends in St-Tropez, reader sees that William seems to have a special friend and accidentally hears them doing some stuff. While reader is still in denial for her little flirty feelings with William (she thinks he would never go for a girl like her), she feels a bit of jealousy. What happens after when her friends encourage her to bring back a beautiful french waiter for the night? What will William feel? Are they ever going to act on that little spark? Are William and reader going to end up entangled in sheets?

Sorry it’s sooooooooooo long!!!! But I just thought about that.

Oh, hello love! 😊 First off, never apologise for long requests—I love when there are details! You’re all so creative, and I’m absolutely here for it 💕

I really hope I managed to capture at least a bit of what you had in mind 🙈 And yes, William and the reader definitely end up in the sheets—it might not be explicitly in the story, but trust me, it happens 😉 (I know you guys can imagine the rest 😏)

Lots of love! ❤️

Tropes & warnings: William Nylander x reader, friends to lovers, jealousy, reader overhearing William with another woman, mild smut (William engaging in sexual activity with an unnamed female character)

Words count: 4.1K

➼｡ﾟ

Tangled in St-Tropez I William Nylander ✐[☆]

The air in St-Tropez was thick with the scent of salt and citrus, the kind of intoxicating blend that made everything feel like a dream—too vibrant, too surreal. The laughter of your Swedish friends echoed through the villa’s open-air patio, and you tried to focus on their conversation, the music, the clinking of glasses. Anything but him.

William Nylander.

For the past two years, he had been a constant presence in your life—not in a close, intimate way, but as a steady figure in your overlapping social circles. Your connection had been subtle, built on fleeting moments. A teasing smirk across a crowded room. The way his fingers would graze yours when he handed you a drink. The warmth in his voice when he greeted you. It was nothing and everything all at once.

You had met through mutual friends, the kind of introductions that happened naturally when worlds collided—your time spent in Sweden during university had woven your life into theirs. Late nights in Stockholm bars, lazy afternoons on frozen lakes, impromptu road trips across the country. Your bond with his friends had formed effortlessly, but with William, it had always been different. You had bonded over originating from Canada with a shared interest in Scandinavia. Yet, it felt like so much more. A slow burn. He was charming, easy-going in that distinctly Swedish way, but there was an edge to him, something untouchable beneath the relaxed facade.

He wasn’t the kind of guy who made grand gestures or chased after what he wanted in an obvious way. He let things unfold naturally, with that lazy, knowing confidence that made it impossible to tell what he was really thinking. He would tease, but never push. Flirt, but never cross a line. You had convinced yourself that it was nothing more than an unspoken understanding between you—harmless, weightless.

But then there were moments. Moments when you swore his eyes lingered a little too long, when his teasing turned softer, more deliberate. When his hand on your lower back felt less like a casual touch and more like a claim. It never amounted to anything tangible, but it was always there, simmering beneath the surface.

And now, here you were, in St-Tropez, in the golden haze of a Mediterranean summer, surrounded by friends, the warmth of the evening pressing against your skin—and for the first time, the weight of that unspoken something felt unbearable.

—

The villa in St-Tropez was meant to be a haven—a sun-drenched escape filled with laughter, late-night swims, and the kind of memories that would last long after summer faded. But tonight, as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the only thing you could hear was them.

The rhythmic creak of the bed. The muffled sound of pleasure. Her voice—breathy, high-pitched, his name tumbling from her lips in a way that made your stomach twist painfully. You clenched your jaw, trying to will away the burning sensation creeping into your chest. It wasn’t your business. William Nylander was free to do whatever—or whoever—he wanted. You weren’t his girlfriend. You weren’t even that close.

And yet, you felt sick.

You squeezed your eyes shut, but the sounds only seemed to intensify, wrapping around you like a vice. You needed to get out of there. Grabbing a hoodie, you slipped out of your room and padded barefoot through the quiet villa, stepping onto the terrace. The salty night air filled your lungs as you tried to breathe through the ache sitting heavy in your chest.

As morning came, the villa was already buzzing by the time you made it to the kitchen, the smell of coffee and sunscreen mixing in the warm air. The soft hum of conversation filled the space, friends draped lazily over the patio furniture, some nursing hangovers, others already in their swimsuits, ready to head down to the beach. The clinking of spoons against ceramic mugs and the occasional pop of a champagne bottle set the rhythm of the slow, sun-drenched morning.

And then there was William.

He stood by the counter, pouring himself a coffee, looking as effortlessly put together as ever. His damp hair curled slightly at the ends, droplets of water still clinging to his tanned skin. He wore nothing but a pair of navy swim shorts, slung low on his hips, his toned frame on full display. Sunlight filtered through the large glass doors, casting a golden glow over him, highlighting every muscle, every contour. He looked up briefly, his blue eyes locking onto yours for a split second, before he turned away, taking a slow sip of his coffee as if nothing had happened last night. As if you hadn’t spent the night lying awake, listening to him with someone else.

You swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the handle of your mug as you forced a smile.

It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter.

But when you turned, catching your reflection in the glass of the patio door, you knew you weren’t fooling anyone.

—

It was no secret St-Tropez came alive at night, the streets pulsating with music and laughter spilling from open-air bars. The warm breeze carried the scent of salt and wine through the cobblestone alleys, and under the neon glow of the streetlights, the city felt like a fever dream.

You had let your friends drag you out, determined to lose yourself in the energy of the evening, to drown out the thoughts lingering in the back of your mind. And for a while, it was working—especially with the way the French waiter had been lavishing you with attention.

He was smooth, confident in that distinctly Parisian way, his dark eyes holding a glint of mischief as he leaned in closer. His fingers brushed yours as he refilled your glass, his lips curving into a smirk that sent warmth curling through you.

“You have a beautiful smile,” he murmured, his accent thick, seductive.

You felt the corners of your lips twitch, your body reacting to the attention, to the way his gaze lingered just a little too long. You weren’t naive—you knew exactly what this was. And maybe, just for tonight, you didn’t care.

And across the bar, William saw everything.

His gaze lingered on you, laughter still spilling from your lips as you leaned into the waiter, your hand lightly grazing his arm. You looked relaxed, glowing in the soft glow of the lights, your smile effortless. And William hated it.

He didn’t even know why it bothered him so much. Maybe it was the way your laughter rang out, too light, too carefree, as if he didn’t exist. Maybe it was how effortlessly you seemed to enjoy yourself, wrapped up in someone else’s attention. Maybe it was because, deep down, he knew he had no right to be irritated.

Not when he had just spent last night with someone else in his bed.

But even that hadn’t felt right. It had been a momentary escape, a way to silence the thoughts he wasn’t ready to face. Because the truth was, you weren’t just another fleeting distraction. You were different. Kind, effortlessly funny, and someone he found himself wanting to impress—something that wasn’t typical for him. He never concerned himself with how others perceived him, but with you, it was different. Around you, he found himself wanting to be better, to show you a side of him that he rarely revealed.

You weren’t close friends, yet he felt like he understood you in a way that went beyond surface-level interactions. He noticed the little things—the way your laughter could light up a room, how your dry wit always managed to catch him off guard. Even when you weren’t trying, you had this way of pulling him in, making him pay attention. But whatever existed between you had always remained unspoken, never crossing the threshold into something more. Instead, you existed in a delicate balance, stealing glances when no one was looking, skirting around something neither of you dared to acknowledge.

His jaw tightened as he forced himself to look away, shoving his hands into his pockets as he re-joined his group’s conversation. He wasn’t jealous—at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

“You should take him with you home,” Klara murmured in your ear, nudging you playfully.

You hesitated, your eyes flickering back toward William for a second.

He was still watching, but the second your gaze met his, he looked away, tilting his head back to down the rest of his drink in one go. A muscle in his jaw ticked, his fingers drumming against the glass as if he was resisting the urge to react.

Maybe Klara was right.

Maybe it was time William knew what it felt like to be on the other side.

—

The moment William stepped out of his room, he heard the unmistakable sound of another door clicking open down the hall. His head turned instinctively, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the French waiter emerging from your room, shoes in hand, his dark hair slightly dishevelled. He moved with a lazy confidence, completely unaware of the way William’s entire body tensed at the sight of him.

Something hot and unwelcome curled in William’s stomach—something dangerously close to jealousy, though he didn’t quite realise it. He clenched his jaw, exhaling slowly through his nose as the waiter glanced up, offering him a polite nod before strolling toward the front of the villa.

William barely nodded back, barely even breathed as his fingers twitched at his sides, his entire body wired with something he couldn’t name. The urge to stop the guy, to say something, was almost overwhelming. Instead, he forced himself to move, his steps stiff as he stalked past the hallway without a word.

But the bitter taste lingered. And for the first time in a long time, William felt something he didn’t quite recognise.

Regret.

He needed to get out, to take the dogs out for a walk.

The night had been good. Exactly what you had needed. The waiter had been charming, attentive, easy in a way that made it simple to forget everything else. And yet, as you lay there in your bed, staring at the ceiling of your villa bedroom, a hollow feeling settled deep in your chest.

It should’ve been enough. It was enough.

So why did it feel like something was still missing?

By the time you exited your room, you noticed you were awake before everyone else—or so you thought. So, you made your way to the kitchen to pour yourself a cup of coffee, the thought of a strong brew feeling like a necessity. The comforting aroma filled the air as you wrapped your fingers around the warm mug before stepping out onto the terrace and settling into one of the lounge chairs.

The air was crisp, a gentle warmth teasing the promise of the midday sun. A light breeze whispered through the palm trees, and you savoured the silence—the contrast from the loud music and chaotic laughter of last night’s events was almost jarring.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself sink into the moment, willing your mind to quiet. Just for a second, you let yourself disappear into the stillness, exhaling deeply.

That was until you heard footsteps from behind.

“God morgon,” William’s Swedish voice sounded.

Your body stiffened slightly at the sound of his voice. You forced yourself to take another slow sip of your coffee before turning your head to look at him. He stood there, hands in the pockets of his loose shorts, his white tank top clinging to his muscular chest. He looked relaxed, but there was something unreadable in his gaze as he watched you.

“God morgon,” you replied, keeping your voice even.

He moved closer, leaning against the railing of the terrace as his eyes flickered to the ocean in the distance. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet settling between you like an unspoken conversation.

“You’re up early,” he noted, finally breaking the silence.

You let out a soft hum, glancing at him over the rim of your mug. “Could say the same about you.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “Didn’t sleep much.”

You nodded, eyes shifting away as you ran your fingers along the rim of your mug. “Yeah, me neither.”

“Figured…” He exhaled, the sound barely audible over the gentle rustling of palm leaves. “So… did you have fun last night?”

You blinked, glancing at him again, studying the way he was watching you. There was something different about his expression—like he was searching for something in your answer.

“Yeah, I did,” you admitted.

William nodded, glancing away for a moment before slowly making his way to sit across from you on the other sofa. His movements were casual, but there was a slight tension in his shoulders, a hesitance in the way he settled in. He leaned back, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the pattern on the cushion beside him.

“Seemed like… you had… good company?” His voice was light, but there was something about the way he said it—like he was testing the waters, carefully gauging your reaction.

You tilted your head slightly, watching him. “He was nice. Sweet, actually.”

William gave a slow nod, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Right.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Why do you ask?”

He hesitated for just a fraction of a second, then shrugged. “Just making conversation.”

You weren’t sure why, but something about his demeanour made you push. “Seemed like you’ve had… quite the company as well here?”

William’s jaw twitched slightly, but he kept his expression carefully neutral. He exhaled through his nose, his fingers stilling against the fabric of the cushion. “Yeah,” he admitted after a pause. “Something like that.”

You nodded, watching him closely. “Must’ve been a great time, then.”

He lifted his gaze back to yours, something flickering in his blue eyes—something unreadable. “I guess.”

You arched a brow. “You guess? I mean… sounded like a very great time to others.” The words carried more weight than you had intended, the sharp edge unmistakable. The way William’s eyes darkened at your remark, the sudden tension in his posture—it was clear you had struck a nerve.

His expression shifted, a flicker of something unspoken crossing his features. “What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice was lower now, more controlled. “You were listening in on us?”

You sucked in a breath, heart pounding slightly at the way his intensity had shifted. “Well, no. But walls are pretty thin here… and she just wasn’t exactly… silent.”

William’s lips parted slightly, realisation dawning on him as the pieces fell into place. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers pressing harder against the cushion as if trying to ground himself.

“Right,” he finally muttered, glancing away for a brief moment. But the tension remained, thick and suffocating.

Before either of you could say another word, the sound of footsteps echoed from the kitchen. More friends were beginning to wake, filling the villa with life again. The conversation between you and William had no choice but to fade into the background, unresolved.

And throughout the day, you and William seemed to move in parallel, never quite crossing paths yet never straying too far. It wasn’t a conscious effort, but an unspoken agreement, a mutual instinct to avoid stepping into the grey area of words left unsaid.

Until evening arrived.

The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in warm hues of amber and pink. The villa’s patio had become a gathering place, filled with the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses. The salty breeze carried the remnants of the day’s heat, making the air feel both heavy and intoxicatingly serene.

You sat on one of the loungers, a drink in hand, watching the sky darken as the first stars flickered into view. Lost in thought, you barely noticed William until he settled into the seat beside you, his presence unmistakable even before he spoke.

For a moment, he said nothing. The quiet stretched, comfortable in its weight, before he finally broke it.

“Not a fan of the party?” he murmured, his voice softer now, lacking its usual teasing edge.

You turned to him, tilting your head slightly. “Just enjoying the view.”

A smirk ghosted across his lips, barely there but enough to be noticed. “Yeah. Me too.”

Something in the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, a quiet intensity laced in his tone. You swallowed, shifting your gaze back toward the horizon, though the moment lingered between you, heavy and unspoken.

The voices around you faded into background noise as the tension settled, thick and undeniable. William shifted beside you, his knee brushing against yours briefly before he pulled away just enough to make it seem unintentional.

In that very moment, you felt something, and you knew exactly what it was.

You were in love. With William fucking Nylander.

It wasn’t just some fleeting infatuation, some harmless crush that would disappear with time. No, this was deeper, something raw and undeniable, and you almost hated yourself for it.

The realisation hit you like a wave, knocking the air from your lungs, making the weight of the moment even heavier. But before you could fully process it, the tension between you was abruptly shattered by a voice—one that sent a cold jolt through your body.

“Hey babe!”

It was her. One of the girls from the group, from the other night.

She was practically glowing as she approached, her smile wide with excitement, her body language filled with ease—so comfortable in her place in his lap. William, ever the gentleman, greeted her in return. Not with the same enthusiasm, but enough to acknowledge her presence, enough for her to lean in and wrap her arms around him, pressing a light kiss against his cheek.

The nausea hit instantly.

Your stomach twisted, your heart lodged somewhere between your ribs and throat, making it impossible to breathe properly. You needed to get out of there. Now.

You barely registered the others joining the scene, the way the atmosphere around you shifted into something livelier, louder. It didn’t matter. None of it did. The only thing you knew was that you couldn’t sit there and watch this unfold any longer.

Klara offered an empathetic smile as she sat down next to you, her eyes flickering with silent understanding. She didn’t press, didn’t ask, just her presence alone offering quiet solidarity. But this time, there was no waiter to turn to, no easy escape route disguised as flirtation.

“Excuse me,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I need to go vomit…”

You stood abruptly, ignoring the curious glances, the slight furrow in William’s brow as he watched you walk away. You didn’t wait for anyone to ask if you were okay. You just left, moving quickly, before the lump in your throat turned into something worse.

At first, you didn’t hear anything besides the noise inside your head as you made your way through the villa, away from the small, casual party. But suddenly, a hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks, and you were forced to turn around to face him—William.

“Hey…” he breathed out, catching his breath from following you. His grip was firm yet gentle, his blue eyes scanning your face with concern. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You avoided his gaze. You wanted to speak, to say the right thing, to brush it off like you always had. To remain cool and composed, to push the feelings back down where they belonged. But for the first time, you couldn’t. You just couldn’t pretend.

“No… Willy… I’m not okay,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You tried to keep the moment from turning dramatic, not wanting to act like some lovesick teenager in a rom-com. You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I’m… I’m sorry, I don’t think I can… I need some space.”

You tried to step away, but William didn’t let go. His fingers tightened slightly around your wrist, grounding you. “Y/N… what’s going on?”

William Nylander wasn’t the type of guy to wear his heart on his sleeve, but when it came to the people he cared about, truly cared about, he wouldn’t just stand by and let them walk away without understanding why.

“I—” you struggled, the words tangling on your tongue as you let out a light laugh. “I think I’m in love with you… and I know it’s completely nuts because I know you don’t… I mean, you like girls like her, and I’m nothing like that. I’m just me…”

The floodgates had opened, and no matter how much you wanted to keep everything bottled up, the words kept spilling out. You ran your hand through your hair. “Gosh, why is this so hard? I hate myself for this—I feel so silly. You’re just… being you. And seeing you with her just made me realise…” You took another breath, trying to steady yourself, but the emotions were too overwhelming. “I’m so happy for you, Willy, really. It’s just… I need to get over this, to get over you, before I can even figure out how to be around you again. It’s all just too much for me… I’m so sorry.”

You looked away, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from slipping down your cheeks. The last thing you wanted was to make a fool of yourself in front of him. But William didn’t say anything right away. He just stood there, his expression unreadable, his grip still firm on your wrist as if letting go would mean losing you entirely.

You let out a deep breath, shaking your head lightly as you tried to ground yourself. “Sorry… I’m… I’ll just…” You were about to step away, but you couldn’t. Something in the way he was holding onto you kept you rooted to the spot.

And then, before you could process it, William pulled you into him, his face coming closer to yours than it had ever been before. And then, his lips met yours.

Shocked, you froze for a brief second, your mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. But then, instinctively, you leaned into the kiss.

It was soft, gentle at first—like he was afraid to push too far. His lips moved against yours with an aching tenderness, his hand letting go of your wrist before sliding to your lower back, pulling you closer as if he never wanted to let go. Your fingers clutched at his t-shirt before trailing up to the nape of his neck, holding onto him like he was the only solid thing in a spinning world.

The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as if you were both trying to make sense of this moment—this shift that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

It felt like time had stopped, stretching into something infinite, but when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. Your foreheads nearly touched, your eyes searching his for some kind of explanation, reassurance—anything to make sense of what just happened.

A quiet moment hung between you, heavy with unspoken words, until finally, a slow smile spread across William’s lips. “I don’t want you to get over me…”

You let out a soft chuckle, a breathy exhale of relief mixed with something deeper, something exhilarating. “Yeah? I don’t want to get over you either…”

And then, as if pulled by an invisible force, you both leaned in again, this kiss deeper, more desperate. The slow hesitation from before melted away, replaced by something undeniable, something raw. His hands slid along your jaw, fingers threading into your hair as he tilted your head, deepening the kiss with an intensity that made your stomach flip. You could feel the restrained urgency in the way his lips moved against yours, in the way his hands gripped your neck, as if trying to make up for all the time wasted in uncertainty.

The moment William kissed you, he knew.

He had been slow to realise his feelings for you—always skirting around them, always brushing off the weight of what he felt with a casual joke or a teasing smirk. But the moment he saw you with that French waiter, something inside him had shifted. The jealousy had been immediate, sharp, but it wasn’t until your confession that everything clicked into place.

No one else had ever mattered the way you did.

And in this moment, he didn’t need another second to be sure of what he wanted. You. Only you.

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