#scent: soft oriental

[valenschirico]

Eye of Love Lilac Dream and Red Diamond Perfumes – review

Eye of Love #pheromoneperfumes will conquer you and then the others. Come and discover two chemically magic scents. #review

  There’s nothing more personal than perfumes, your signature bookmarking your presence. However, these Eye of Love pheromone perfumes do much more.   Lilac Dream at night, Red Diamond by day. These Eye of Love pheromone perfumes enhance the idea those surrounding you have of you. How Pheromone Perfumes Work Pheromone perfumes don’t work by magic but by attested chemistry – natural chemistry…

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Love Bites

A bookstore barista catches the attention of a vampire drawn to her scent, and everything changes when she invites him in.

Word Count: 6,956

Content Warning: mentions of blood and biting.

The rain poured steadily, creating rivers along the curbs and a persistent rhythm against the asphalt. Y/n pulled her coat tighter around her, the cold seeping through the damp fabric. The dim glow of streetlights reflected off the wet pavement, casting distorted halos that barely lit the way. Her shoes squished with every step, water seeping through the soles as she navigated the uneven sidewalk.

She glanced around, the city that never sleeps unusually subdued in the downpour. The occasional car splashed by, headlights cutting through the darkness, but the streets felt eerily empty. Her apartment was still several blocks away, and the thought of the warmth inside kept her moving despite the chill that gripped her.

The rain masked the usual cacophony of the city, leaving only the sound of water and her own breathing. As she rounded a corner, a faint light from a bodega sign flickered, offering a brief sense of orientation in the endless maze of shadows and slick surfaces.

“Almost there,” she muttered to herself, her voice barely audible over the rain. But with every step forward, the night seemed to grow darker, the path more uncertain.

Y/n barely noticed the bodega’s door swinging open until a figure stepped out into the rain. She flinched slightly, startled by the sudden movement. A man stood there, pulling up the hood of his coat, his face half-lit by the flickering neon sign above.

“Bit of a miserable night, isn’t it?” he said, his accent soft and distinctly British, cutting through the rain like a warm thread.

Y/n blinked, momentarily caught off guard. The man’s green eyes seemed to hold an unusual brightness despite the gloom, his hair damp and curling slightly at the edges where it peeked out from under his hood.

“Yeah, you could say that,” she replied, clutching her coat a little tighter, the chill biting at her fingertips.

He gave a small, almost sheepish smile, the kind that didn’t quite belong on someone standing in the middle of a downpour. “You alright? Look like you’ve had a bit of a rough one.”

Y/n hesitated, unsure why she felt compelled to answer. There was something disarming about him, his tone unassuming, as if they’d crossed paths a thousand times before. “Just trying to get home,” she finally said, her voice soft but steady.

He nodded, glancing down the street as if considering her path. “Not too far, I hope?”

“A few more blocks,” she said, motioning vaguely in the direction she’d been heading.

He tilted his head, a small crease forming between his brows. “This time of night, in this weather… mind some company? At least until you’re closer to home?”

Y/n studied him for a moment, weighing her options. He didn’t seem threatening—just someone caught in the same rainstorm, maybe trying to make it a little less lonely. After a pause, she gave a slight nod.

“Alright,” she said, her voice quieter now. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, I’m Harry by the way,” he replied, falling into step beside her. The rain continued its steady rhythm, but somehow, the darkness didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

The rain softened to a mist as Y/n and Harry walked side by side, their footsteps splashing lightly against the wet pavement. The quiet lull of the city made their conversation feel intimate, as though the rest of the world had faded away.

“So,” Y/n began, sneaking a glance at him from the corner of her eye. His hood had slipped back slightly, revealing more of his damp curls. “What were you doing out so late in this weather?”

Harry smiled faintly, his hands buried in his coat pockets. “Needed a walk. Clears my head, y’know? And the rain… well, it’s peaceful in its own way.”

Y/n hummed in agreement, noting the melodic lilt of his voice. She found herself glancing at him more often than she meant to. There was something otherworldly about him—his pale complexion almost luminous under the faint glow of the streetlights, his features sharp but softened by a kindness in his eyes.

“And you? What’s got you out here braving the elements?” he asked, turning his gaze toward her.

“Long day at work,” she admitted, sighing. “I usually take the subway, but it was packed, and I just… needed some air.”

Harry nodded, as if he understood completely. “Fair enough. Sometimes the chaos down there feels worse than the storm up here.”

As they walked, Y/n noticed how his presence seemed to ease her nerves. She didn’t normally trust strangers—especially not in a city like this, and especially not on dark, rainy nights. But with Harry, it felt different. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt safe, as though he was someone she’d known for years rather than minutes.

They reached the corner of her street, and she glanced at him again. His coat clung to his frame, and she realized he wasn’t shivering despite the cold. In fact, he seemed entirely unaffected by the weather, like he belonged to the rain and the darkness surrounding them.

“You live nearby?” she asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

He nodded, gesturing vaguely down the street. “A few buildings that way. Looks like we’re practically neighbors.”

She smiled, a small warmth blossoming in her chest. “Small world.”

Harry’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, a softness there that made her cheeks heat despite the cold. “It is,” he said quietly, his tone almost wistful.

As they stopped in front of her apartment building, Y/n hesitated, unsure of what to say. She didn’t want the moment to end, even though they were still practically strangers.

“This is me,” she said finally, gesturing toward the door.

Harry nodded, his smile faint but genuine. “Glad I could walk you home, Y/n.”

She blinked, her heart skipping. “How did you know my name?”

For a split second, his expression flickered—something unreadable passing across his face—but then his smile returned. “You told me earlier, didn’t you?”

Y/n frowned, certain she hadn’t. But before she could question it further, Harry gave a slight nod.

“Get inside before you catch a cold,” he said gently. “Goodnight.”

And just like that, he turned and disappeared into the misty rain, leaving Y/n standing there, heart racing, wondering why she felt so drawn to him. 

The next day

The bell above the bookshop door jingled as Y/n worked behind the counter, the steady hum of espresso machines and soft chatter creating a comforting background noise. She loved her job, it was the perfect blend of cozy and bustling, surrounded by books and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

She glanced up as a familiar figure caught her eye. Harry was sitting at a corner table in the café, a book open in front of him. His damp curls from the night before were now dry, but he still had that same ethereal look about him—pale and strikingly beautiful, like he’d stepped out of a painting.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, then decided to approach him. She grabbed a clean cloth and pretended to wipe down the nearby table before stopping beside his.

“Well, well,” she said, crossing her arms with a teasing smile. “Are you following me now, or is this just a coincidence?”

Harry looked up from his book, his lips curving into a small smile. “Caught me,” he replied, his tone playful. “Couldn’t resist the coffee.”

Y/n chuckled, leaning slightly against the back of a chair. “You know, most people come here for the books and the coffee. It’s kind of our thing.”

He raised a brow, amusement dancing in his green eyes. “Is that so? What if I’m just here for the company?”

She rolled her eyes, suppressing the grin tugging at her lips. “Smooth.” Gesturing to the menu board, she asked, “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Pastry? We’ve got these killer croissants today.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “I don’t really eat…”

Y/n blinked, her smile faltering. “Oh. Uh… okay. Just coffee, then?”

He shook his head, his gaze steady but kind. “I’m good with this.” He tapped the book in front of him, avoiding her curious stare.

A strange vibe settled between them, and Y/n felt a small prickle of unease. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something about the way he’d said it—so casual, yet so odd—stuck with her.

“Well, if you change your mind, I’m just over there,” she said, forcing a smile as she nodded toward the counter.

“Thanks, Y/n,” Harry said softly, his voice carrying that same calm warmth that had put her at ease the night before.

She walked away, glancing back once to find him already immersed in his book again. The unease lingered, though, as if there was more to Harry than he was letting on.

Y/n lingered behind the counter, her hands busy with a towel as she wiped down the espresso machine. But her thoughts kept drifting to Harry, sitting so calmly at his table like he belonged there, as if their encounter last night hadn’t been strange at all. The question that had nagged her since then resurfaced, and before she could overthink it, she walked back over to his table.

“Alright,” she said, stopping in front of him, her arms crossed over her apron. “I need to ask you something.”

Harry looked up from his book, his brow lifting slightly. “Go on.”

She hesitated, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under his calm, steady gaze. “Last night, when you walked me home, you said my name. But I never told you what it was. How did you know?”

For a moment, Harry didn’t say anything. His lips parted as if he were about to speak, but he seemed to think better of it. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“You sure you didn’t tell me?” he asked lightly, though there was something unreadable in his tone.

“I’m sure,” Y/n said firmly, narrowing her eyes. “It’s not exactly something I forget.”

Harry tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe I overheard someone else say it.”

“There was no one else around,” she countered, crossing her arms tighter.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and melodic. “You’re very observant, aren’t you?”

“It’s a fair question,” she pressed, feeling a mix of curiosity and frustration. “It’s not every day a stranger magically knows your name.”

Harry’s smile faded slightly, his gaze softening. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “It’s not.”

Y/n felt her breath hitch at his tone, the way it seemed to hold more weight than his casual demeanor suggested.

“So?” she prompted, leaning closer. “How?”

Harry glanced down at his book for a moment, his fingers brushing the edges of the pages. Then he looked back up at her, his green eyes almost glowing under the café’s warm lights.

“Let’s just say,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “I’m very good with names. Especially when they belong to people I’d like to remember.”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in his words. There was something cryptic in his answer, something that left her feeling like she was only scratching the surface of a much larger mystery.

She straightened, unsure of how to respond. “That’s… vague.”

Harry smiled again, softer this time. “Maybe some things are better left that way.”

Y/n studied him for a moment longer, her unease mixed with an undeniable curiosity. Finally, she nodded, stepping back. “Alright, mystery man. But don’t think I’m letting this go.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” he said, his smile returning, though his eyes seemed to hold a secret he wasn’t quite ready to share.

The days slipped by, and the bookshop settled back into its usual rhythm—customers browsing shelves, the hiss of steam from the espresso machine, the steady hum of conversations drifting through the café. But Y/n’s thoughts kept wandering to Harry.

She hadn’t seen him since that day. No quiet figure tucked into the corner with a book, no knowing smiles or cryptic comments. She found herself glancing toward the door whenever the bell jingled, half-expecting him to walk in with that calm, unreadable expression. But he didn’t.

“Everything okay?” her coworker, Ellie, asked as she restocked a display of mugs.

Y/n blinked, realizing she’d been staring at the café’s empty corner table for too long. “Yeah,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just zoning out.”

Ellie gave her a knowing look. “You’ve been weird lately. Is this about the guy who was here the other day? The tall one with the curls?”

“What? No,” Y/n said, maybe a little too defensively.

Ellie smirked. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Y/n sighed, brushing a stray hair from her face. “It’s not like that. He’s just… interesting. And I haven’t seen him around. I might’ve scared him off.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “What’d you do? Grill him on his life story?”

“Maybe,” Y/n muttered, heat rising to her cheeks.

Her coworker laughed. “Relax. If he’s worth it, he’ll come back. Guys like that always do.”

But as the hours ticked by and the café emptied out for the night, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Harry wasn’t just any guy. There was something different about him—something that made her want to figure him out, even if she couldn’t explain why.

Later, as she locked up the shop and stepped out into the crisp evening air, she found herself looking down the street toward the direction of his building. The thought crossed her mind: What if I went to see if he’s around?

She shook her head, pushing the idea away. It was silly. He was a stranger, practically. But even as she walked home, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d see him again or if she’d scared him away for good.

The rain had stopped earlier in the evening, leaving the streets slick and shining under the glow of the streetlights. Y/n pulled her jacket tighter around herself as she walked, the familiar route past the bodega feeling strangely empty tonight.

She hadn’t planned to take this way home, but her feet had carried her here anyway, as if some part of her was hoping to see him again. The corner bodega’s neon sign buzzed faintly, casting a pale light on the pavement. The door was open, a faint clink of glass bottles and low conversation spilling out, but Harry wasn’t there.

Y/n lingered for a moment, pretending to check her phone as she glanced around. The street was quiet except for the occasional car passing by, its headlights cutting through the dimness.

What are you even doing? she thought, feeling a little ridiculous. It wasn’t like Harry had promised to meet her here or even hinted at being nearby. For all she knew, he was off doing something completely unrelated to her.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something—or someone.

With a sigh, she adjusted her bag on her shoulder and started walking again, her shoes clicking softly against the wet pavement. The night felt heavier than usual, as if the city itself was holding its breath.

When she finally reached her apartment building, she paused on the steps, casting one last glance down the street. Nothing. No sign of him, no flash of dark curls or the quiet intensity of his gaze.

Maybe he really is gone, she thought, a pang of disappointment settling in her chest.

As she unlocked the door and stepped inside, she resolved to let it go. Harry was just a stranger who had crossed her path briefly—nothing more. 

The weeks passed in a blur of routine. Y/n poured herself into her work at the café, stacking books, crafting perfect cappuccinos, and chatting with regulars. But her mind often drifted to Harry—his mysterious air, his cryptic comments, and his sudden absence. Every night she took the same route past the bodega, hoping for even a glimpse of him, but the streets remained empty of him.

Until one night.

The air was biting as she walked, her breath visible in the faint glow of the streetlights. The bodega’s sign buzzed faintly in the distance, and she was about to pass it when a shadow shifted in her peripheral vision.

“Y/n.”

The voice was unmistakable—low, soft, and tinged with something that made her heart skip. She turned quickly, and there he was.

But he wasn’t the same Harry she remembered. His usually radiant complexion looked pale and dull, his dark curls messier than before. There were faint shadows under his eyes, and his shoulders seemed to sag as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

“Harry,” she breathed, a mix of relief and concern flooding her. “Where have you been?”

He offered a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Around.” His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken much in days.

Y/n took a hesitant step closer, her worry growing. “You don’t look so good. Are you okay?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering down the street as if he were debating whether to stay or leave. “I’ll be fine,” he said finally, though the words felt hollow.

She frowned, crossing her arms. “That’s not convincing.” Without thinking, she added, “Come back to my place. You look like you need… something. Rest, food, whatever.”

Harry’s eyes snapped to hers, wide with surprise. For a moment, he seemed frozen, as if the idea of being taken care of was foreign to him. “Y/n, I—”

“No arguments,” she interrupted, her voice firmer than she expected. “It’s cold, and you look like you’re about to keel over. My apartment’s just a few blocks away.”

He stared at her, his jaw tightening as if he were about to refuse. But then something in his expression softened, and he gave a small nod.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Lead the way.”

The walk to her apartment was quiet, the sound of their footsteps the only noise between them. Y/n kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, trying to piece together what had happened in the weeks since she’d last seen him. He looked strung out.

When they reached her building, she opened the door and gestured for him to follow her inside. “It’s not much,” she said as they climbed the stairs, “but it’s warm.”

Once inside, she flipped on the lights, casting the small living room in a cozy glow. Harry stepped in hesitantly, his gaze sweeping over the space.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said, shrugging off her coat. “I’ll grab you something to drink.”

He nodded, sinking onto the edge of her couch as if he didn’t quite belong there. As Y/n moved to the kitchen, she couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to him and why, despite his mysterious nature, she felt so compelled to help him.

Y/n filled a glass with water in the kitchen, the sound of the tap running filling the quiet apartment. She glanced toward the living room, where Harry sat on the edge of the couch, his posture stiff, his hands loosely clasped between his knees.

“Here,” she said, walking over and holding the glass out to him. “You look like you could use this.”

Harry glanced at it but didn’t move to take it. “I’m not thirsty,” he said softly, his tone calm but firm.

Y/n frowned, lowering the glass slightly. “You sure? You look—”

“I’m sure,” he interrupted gently, offering a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She hesitated, the glass still in her hand. The refusal wasn’t rude, but there was something about it that felt… off. Her instincts prickled again, the same way they had back at the café when he’d made that odd comment about not eating food.

To ease the tension building in her chest, she forced a nervous laugh and said, “What, are you a vampire or something?”

The room fell silent.

Harry’s faint smile vanished, and his gaze locked on hers, unblinking and intense. The air seemed to shift, the cozy warmth of the apartment suddenly feeling stifling.

Y/n’s heart thudded in her chest as the seconds stretched on, her own laugh fading into the stillness. “I was just kidding,” she said quickly, her voice quieter now.

Harry’s expression softened slightly, but there was something guarded in his eyes. “That’s an interesting guess,” he said finally, his tone measured.

The way he said it sent a chill down her spine. She tried to laugh again, but it came out shaky. “Well, you’re pale, you don’t eat, you’re… mysterious. You kind of fit the stereotype.”

Harry leaned back slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. “And would it scare you if I were?”

Y/n froze, her pulse pounding in her ears. She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not—and that uncertainty was the most unsettling part of all.

“Harry,” she said carefully, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re kidding, right?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting hers again. “Maybe,” he said quietly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The room felt heavier now, the unspoken tension crackling in the air. Y/n clutched the glass tighter, her mind racing. She couldn’t decide if he was messing with her or if there was something she was better off not knowing.

Y/n blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. “What?” she asked, her voice a little unsteady.

Harry tilted his head slightly, his green eyes steady and unreadable. “If I were a vampire,” he said softly, his tone as calm as if they were discussing the weather, “would you let me… drink your blood?”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she continued to tighten her grip on the glass of water, unsure whether to laugh, run, or… stay. The question was absurd, yet the way he asked it—so direct, so quiet—made her pulse quicken in a way she couldn’t quite define.

“I—uh…” Y/n stammered, shifting on her feet. She tried to gauge his expression, but it was impossible to tell if he was serious or just teasing her.

“You’re nervous,” Harry said, leaning forward slightly. His voice was low, but it wasn’t threatening. If anything, it sounded… curious. “But you’re not afraid.”

Y/n swallowed hard, her breath catching as she realized he was right. Her nervousness wasn’t from fear—it was from something else entirely. A strange mix of curiosity and anticipation coursed through her, leaving her unsure of how to respond.

“Well,” she said finally, trying to keep her voice light, “I think most people would be nervous if someone asked to suck their blood, Harry. Hypothetically or not.”

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, though his gaze remained fixed on her. “Fair point,” he murmured, his tone almost playful. “But you haven’t answered the question.”

Y/n stared at him, her mind racing. Was he joking? Was he testing her? Was this just another layer of his cryptic nature, or was there something more?

“I don’t know,” she said at last, her voice quiet. “Would it hurt?”

The question escaped her before she could stop it, and her cheeks burned as she realized what she’d just said.

Harry’s smile grew slightly, the intensity in his eyes softening just a fraction. “Not as much as you’d think,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

For a moment, the room felt impossibly still, the air thick with an unspoken tension. Y/n’s mind screamed at her to break the silence, to laugh it off, to do something—but all she could do was stand there, caught in the strange pull of his gaze.

Harry’s gaze darkened, his lips curving into a faint, almost predatory smile. “So,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Would you let me do it?”

Y/n’s breath hitched, her pulse pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She didn’t speak, couldn’t find the words, but after a moment, she nodded—slowly, hesitantly.

His eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite place, and before she could second-guess herself, Harry closed the distance between them. His hands cupped her face with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the tension in the air, and then his lips were on hers.

The kiss was soft at first, exploratory, but it quickly deepened, his fingers threading through her hair as he pulled her closer. Y/n felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them, every thought and worry drowned out by the electric connection sparking between them.

Before she realized it, Harry’s lips left hers, trailing a line of featherlight kisses along her jaw, down to the curve of her neck.

“Trust me,” he murmured against her skin, his breath warm and sending shivers down her spine.

Y/n barely had time to process his words before she felt the sharp, sudden sting of his teeth breaking the surface of her skin. The pain was fleeting, replaced almost instantly by a strange, heady warmth that spread through her like liquid fire. Her knees wobbled, and she clutched at his shoulders to steady herself, her mind spinning.

Harry held her firmly, his grip strong but careful, as if he were afraid of breaking her. She could feel the pull of his mouth on her neck, the sensation both terrifying and intoxicating.

When he finally drew back, his lips red and his breathing heavy, Y/n swayed slightly, her vision hazy.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

Y/n blinked up at him, her hand instinctively going to her neck. She nodded, though her words came out shaky. “Yeah… I think so.”

Harry’s expression softened, his hand brushing her cheek. “Good,” he murmured. But there was something in his eyes—an intensity, a hunger—that made her heart race all over again.

Y/n leaned back against the armrest of the couch, her hand still pressed lightly to her neck. The room felt brighter, sharper—her senses alive in a way they had never been before. She wasn’t scared; if anything, she felt a strange, almost blissful calm.

“Is this…” she began, her voice dreamy, “going to turn me into a vampire or something?”

Harry let out a low laugh, wiping at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “No,” he said, his tone amused but gentle. “It doesn’t work like that. It’s a bit more… complicated than in the stories.”

Y/n tilted her head, her curiosity piqued despite the haze of euphoria swirling through her. “So, how does it work?”

Harry’s eyes softened as he looked at her, though the faint hunger lingering in them hadn’t entirely disappeared. “You’d have to drink from me, for one,” he said, his voice low, intimate. “But it’s not something I’d let happen. Not to you.”

She frowned slightly, her fingers absently tracing her neck where she could feel the faint warmth from the bite. “Why not?”

He smiled faintly, leaning closer, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Because I like you the way you are,” he said simply, his voice carrying an honesty that made her heart skip.

The faint flush in her cheeks deepened, and she looked away, suddenly self-conscious. “You’re… different,” she murmured, unsure if it was a compliment or an observation.

“So are you,” Harry countered, his voice soft but serious. “More than you know.”

Before she could respond, he added, almost to himself, “You taste… sweet. Like nothing I’ve ever had before.” His gaze met hers, his lips curving into a sly smile. “I could find myself addicted to you, Y/n.”

Her heart thudded at his words, a mix of excitement and trepidation flooding her. “Is that… a bad thing?”

Harry’s smile faltered for a moment, and his expression grew darker, more thoughtful. “It could be,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “For both of us.”

The weight of his words hung between them, but Y/n found herself unable to look away from him. Despite everything—his mysterious nature, his cryptic answers, and now, the undeniable truth of what he was—she didn’t feel afraid.

Instead, she felt drawn to him even more.

Harry’s gaze held hers, an intensity in his expression that made Y/n’s breath catch. He leaned back slightly, running a hand through his tousled curls as if weighing whether or not to speak.

Finally, he sighed, his voice low and deliberate. “The first night I saw you… outside the bodega,” he began, his green eyes locking onto hers, “it wasn’t by chance.”

Y/n tilted her head, confusion flickering across her face. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, a faint flicker of guilt flashing in his expression. “I… I caught your scent,” he admitted, his tone softer now. “As I walked out, it hit me like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Sweet, warm, impossible to ignore.”

She blinked, stunned by his words. “You smelled me?”

Harry gave a small, almost apologetic smile. “It’s a… heightened sense. Part of what I am. Your scent—it was unlike anything I’d ever encountered. I couldn’t help myself. I followed it.”

Y/n’s pulse quickened, her thoughts racing. “You followed me?”

“To your apartment,” he admitted, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. “And then… to your job the next day. I couldn’t stay away. I needed to understand why I felt so drawn to you.”

Y/n stared at him, her mind swirling with questions. “So… when you showed up at the café, that wasn’t a coincidence either?”

He shook his head, leaning forward slightly. “No. It was intentional. But when I met you, when we talked… it wasn’t just your scent anymore. You were…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “You were magnetic. I was… enamored.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she felt her stomach flip at his confession. “Then why did you stop coming around?”

Harry looked away, his jaw tightening briefly. “Because I was afraid you’d catch on. That you’d figure out what I am, or worse… that I’d lose control.” He met her gaze again, his voice softer now. “But when I saw you taking that same route every night, I knew you were looking for me. And I couldn’t stay away anymore.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. “You came back… for me?”

“Yes,” he said simply, his tone unwavering. “I tried to stay away, but you… you make that impossible.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, the weight of his words settling over her. She should’ve been frightened—by the revelation, by the intensity of his feelings but instead, she felt a strange sense of relief, like a puzzle piece clicking into place.

“I don’t know what it is about you, Y/n,” Harry continued, his voice low, almost reverent. “But you’ve pulled me in, and I’m not sure I could let go even if I wanted to.”

Y/n took a shaky breath, her hand still resting on her neck where his teeth had pierced her skin. Her heart was racing, but not from fear. She looked at him, meeting his gaze, and finally admitted, “I feel it too. Like… there’s some kind of connection between us. I can’t explain it, but it’s there.”

Harry’s eyes softened, a flicker of relief crossing his face. “I’ve felt it from the moment I saw you,” he murmured.

She hesitated, her fingers curling into her lap as she worked up the courage to ask the question lingering in her mind. “Do you… do you drink from other people?”

Harry shook his head, his expression turning serious. “No,” he said firmly. “We have other ways to get blood. Hospitals, banks, sources that… don’t involve hurting anyone. Feeding directly from someone—it’s rare for my kind, and we don’t take it lightly.”

She studied him for a moment, her chest tightening as a strange mix of emotions swirled within her. “But you drank from me,” she said quietly.

He nodded, his gaze steady. “I did. I shouldn’t have, but… I couldn’t resist. You’re—” He stopped himself, his jaw clenching slightly before he continued. “You’re different, Y/n. I’ve never wanted someone’s blood like I wanted yours. But it’s not just that. It’s you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced away, unsure how to process his words. After a moment, she looked back at him, meeting his gaze directly. “So… you’re a vampire.”

Harry blinked, and then a low laugh rumbled from his chest. He leaned back slightly, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “That’s such a dramatic word,” he said, amusement flickering in his eyes. “But yes, I suppose that’s what you’d call it.”

Y/n arched an eyebrow, her nervousness fading slightly as his humor eased the tension in the room. “I mean, it is what you are, isn’t it?”

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “It just sounds… cheesy, doesn’t it? Like I’m straight out of some old gothic novel.”

“Well,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips, “you did just bite me and drink my blood, so… maybe the label fits.”

Harry grinned, his fangs briefly flashing in the light, and Y/n couldn’t help but laugh softly. 

Y/n shifted on the couch, her curiosity burning brighter than ever. She tucked her legs beneath her, leaning forward slightly. “I have so many questions,” she admitted, her voice trembling just a little, but more with excitement than fear.

Harry smirked, resting his arm on the back of the couch as he watched her. “Then ask,” he said smoothly. “I’ll answer—within reason.”

She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “Within reason? That sounds suspicious.”

His smirk grew, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “There are some things you might not be ready to hear yet, love. But I’ll do my best.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “Fine. First question: how old are you? Like, really?”

Harry laughed, the sound deep and rich. “Straight to the point, I see. I’m… older than I look. A little over a century.”

Her eyes widened, and she couldn’t help but lean back in disbelief. “A century? You’re over a hundred years old?”

“Give or take a decade,” he said, his tone light. “Though I stopped counting after the first fifty or so.”

Y/n shook her head, trying to process that. “Okay, next question: can you go out in the sun, or is that a no-go?”

Harry chuckled. “I can, but I don’t recommend it. It’s uncomfortable—think of it like a really bad sunburn that happens almost instantly. That’s why you usually won’t find me out during the day unless I absolutely have to be.”

She nodded, her mind buzzing with possibilities. “Do you sleep in a coffin?”

That earned her a full laugh, Harry throwing his head back slightly. “No, I don’t. I have a perfectly comfortable bed, thank you very much.”

Y/n grinned. “Alright, what about garlic? Crosses? Holy water?”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Garlic’s just food. Crosses don’t bother me unless someone shoves one in my face, which is just rude. And holy water? Let’s just say it’s not my favorite thing, but it’s not going to make me burst into flames either.”

She laughed, relaxing a little more as she listened to him. “Okay, serious question now,” she said, her tone softening. “Is it… lonely? Living so long?”

Harry’s expression grew thoughtful, the teasing edge fading from his features. “It can be,” he admitted quietly. “You watch people come and go. You lose people. It’s part of the deal, but it doesn’t make it easier.”

Y/n felt a pang of sympathy in her chest. “That sounds… hard.”

“It is,” he said simply. “But then, sometimes you meet someone who makes it worth it.”

Her breath caught at the way he looked at her as he said it, his gaze steady and warm. She quickly diverted her attention to her next question, her cheeks flushing. “Alright, last one—for now. Why me?”

Harry smiled softly, leaning closer. “I wish I knew,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “But whatever it is, Y/n, I’m not sure I want to question it.”

Y/n hesitated before asking her next question, her voice barely above a whisper. “Would you ever… turn someone? So you could stay with them?”

Harry’s expression softened, his gaze dropping to his hands as he thought about her words. The air in the room grew heavy with the weight of the question, and Y/n could see the conflict flickering in his eyes.

He finally spoke, his voice low and deliberate. “It’s not a decision I’d take lightly,” he admitted. “Turning someone… it’s not as simple as just giving them eternal life. It changes everything—your body, your mind, your world. There’s no going back.”

Y/n watched him carefully, her heart thudding as she tried to read his expression. “But if it meant being with someone you loved… forever?”

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he met her gaze. “I’ve thought about it,” he said honestly, his tone raw. “And I won’t lie—it’s tempting. But it’s also selfish.”

“How is it selfish?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

He sighed, running a hand through his curls. “Because it’s not my life I’d be changing. It’s theirs. I’d be asking them to give up so much—the sun, the ability to grow old, to live a normal life. It’s a lot to ask of someone, and it’s not something I could do lightly. Especially to someone I care about.”

Y/n felt a lump form in her throat at the sincerity in his voice. “So… you wouldn’t do it?”

Harry looked at her for a long moment, his green eyes piercing. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I’d want to say no. To let the person I love live their life the way they were meant to. But if I knew I was going to lose them…” He trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not sure I’d be strong enough to let go.”

Her heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, and she reached out, placing a hand over his. “Harry,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside her, “I think you’re stronger than you realize.”

He gave her a faint, almost bittersweet smile. “Maybe,” he said quietly. “But with you… I think I’d have to be.”

Y/n’s hand lingered on his, her touch grounding him. She looked at him, her eyes soft but filled with determination. “I want to see you again, Harry.”

His jaw tensed, and he glanced away, as though wrestling with his thoughts. “Y/n,” he started, his voice low and measured, “this… this might not be a good idea. For you.”

She frowned, tilting her head. “Why not?”

He exhaled slowly, leaning back against the couch and running a hand through his hair. “Because the more time you spend with me, the harder it’ll be for both of us to walk away. And you might have to one day. For your own good.”

Y/n’s chest tightened, but she shook her head, her voice unwavering. “I don’t want to walk away. I don’t care how complicated this is—I want to see you. I feel… connected to you, Harry. I can’t just ignore that.”

His green eyes met hers, a flicker of something raw and unguarded passing through them. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said softly, almost sadly. “Being close to me… it’s not safe. It’s not normal.”

“I don’t want safe or normal,” she replied firmly. “I want you. Whatever that looks like.”

Harry closed his eyes briefly, as though trying to steady himself, before opening them again. “You’re making this harder than it already is,” he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the tension in his voice.

Y/n leaned closer, her hand still on his. “Then stop fighting it. You want to see me again too, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but the way his gaze softened told her everything she needed to know. Finally, he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes. I do.”

Her lips curved into a small, hopeful smile. “Then let’s not overthink it. Just… let’s see where this goes.”

Harry’s expression remained conflicted, but he couldn’t deny the pull he felt toward her. “Alright,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet but firm. “But we take it one step at a time. No promises, no expectations.”

Y/n nodded, her smile widening slightly. “One step at a time,” she echoed.

Y/n’s heart was racing, but she didn’t hesitate. Slowly, she leaned forward, her eyes locked on his. Harry’s breath hitched, his conflicted expression softening as she closed the distance between them.

Her lips met his, soft and tentative at first, but the electricity between them was undeniable. Harry responded almost immediately, his hand coming up to cup her cheek as he deepened the kiss. There was a gentleness in the way he touched her, as though he was afraid she might break, but there was also an intensity—an unspoken longing that neither of them could deny.

The kiss was slow but full of meaning, every moment stretching as though time itself had paused for them. When they finally pulled back, Y/n’s cheeks were flushed, her breathing unsteady.

Harry’s green eyes searched hers, a mix of wonder and restraint in his gaze. “You’re going to ruin me,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

She smiled softly, her fingers brushing against his. “Maybe,” she whispered, “but you’re worth it.”

For a moment, Harry looked like he might protest, but instead, he leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re making it impossible for me to stay away,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

“Good,” she said with a small smile, her confidence growing. “Because I don’t want you to.” 

[pixiesholloworld]

You know you’re in serious trouble now. You promised your boyfriend you’d let him go down on you tonight. Though no one is obligated to have sex, you’ve chickened out so many times that it's become a pain that you personally want to get over. You’ve been dating for the first few months of college, meeting him at orientation and falling for him harder every time you saw him. He promised you two could start things slow being that you were a complete virgin (him being your first boyfriend), he told you there was no pressure and no matter how many times your nerves took over, he’d be understanding of it…but that didn’t stop you from wanting to jump headfirst into sex with him. 

You immediately ran to the first and only friend you made all year, Suguru. He was a 3rd year and had just the right amount of patience to put up with you and your silly antics. You figured that since he was older, he must’ve had his fair share of women. I mean, come on, it’s not like he was ugly?? When you asked him to go to the mall with you to pick some things out, his slender face painted an amused smirk. You threatened to not have him go with you if he was going to take you as a joke, but he assured you he wasn't he just thought it was: 

“Cute”

You turn a blind eye to his clear mocking of you and sat shotgun in his car. Upon arriving, you two went store to store (Suguru holding all the bags, of course). You went from Victoria’s Secret to Bath & Body Works, trying to pick out the right lingerie, the right perfume, and the right body scrub. You wanted everything to go over smoothly tonight, it helped that Suguru was right there picking out which scent would smell best on you, if it fit your face, etc. You’d like to think he enjoyed helping you in this way after all, who knows you better than your best friend? 

After spending more money than you probably should’ve, he drove you home to your apartment. You made him sit and wait for you on your bed while you showered, decorating your shower walls with the different products you had bought earlier in the day. Using each one in the order it was supposed to be used, feeling how the wet metal stick glides across your legs and in between the creases your body makes. 

After getting out of the shower, you find beads of water effortlessly dripping down your now hairless skin. The sight of it excites you a bit. You decided to hurry and dry off, quickly applying lotion and little blots of baby oil to keep your skin soft, throwing on a skimpy tank top, that showed your underboob and pajama shorts. You hurried to your room, plopping down on the bed next to Suguru, who is now lying on his back, toying with his phone. 

“Sooo, how do I smell?" leaning in so he can sniff, he leans in, and his eyes flicker a bit, almost as if he were a vampire smelling fresh blood, but he simply gave you an:

“I’ve smelt better” and carried on with whatever he was doing on his phone.

“I’m serious, Sugie,” you whined, pushing his arm a little. “Do I smell good or not?” He turns to look at you, so you know he is sincere, his over observant eyes switching focus between your lips and eyes.

“You smell good,” he smiled, turning back to his now shut off phone, his eyes hiding something deep inside of him. He puts his phone down and lifts himself up so hes sitting. He places a hand on you, starting down your mid-thigh area, slowly creeping his way to your mid-calf, and back up again. His big, warm hands occasionally gripped at the fat closest to your bare mound. You could feel your body heating up from his sudden touch, and you prayed that he couldn’t tell.

“Soft too.” His head turns so his gaze can meet yours. You smirk and readjust yourself on the bed closer to the headboard, your legs practically inviting him in. He uses this opportunity to adjust himself right on top of your pelvis, his eyes staring at you with a certain ostensible innocence. He grabs onto your unsure hands and has you rub his face, brushing across his plump lips and keeping your hand there for a moment. You can feel him taking in deeper whiffs of your newfound scent. Blood rushes to your face, taking advantage of the moment to part his lips, curious to feel the warmth and wetness that it holds. 

“So do I get a taste or what?” With his hands holding yours closely, you chuckle a little, trying to alleviate the tension. You won't deny that you’re already aroused and curious about how you taste. You find it hard to resist his request, being that he has already smelled and felt you. PLUS, this would be all for your boyfriend’s sake… right? No no, you won’t use any lousy excuses like that, you wanted this.

He slides your shorts and panties off of you to reveal your cunt, the translucent wetness forming webs between your puffs and the clothing. He looks back up at you with a hunger in his eyes. After sliding them all the way off, his head is stuck between your ankles. He begins kissing downward, leaving wet marks and gentle nibbles along the way down to your thighs. Feeling his warm breath tickle your thighs made your tummy swirl, your second heart beating faster than the first. He kisses and squeezes them, making sure you know he's watching your reactions. Your body shutters in response, never having felt this many sensations at once. Not only that, but this is your first time seeing your closest friend as something more. You never had any doubts about Suguru’s capabilities before, but especially now..

He slides his mouth over to your puffy gates, slowly kissing them. You can feel yourself oozing to the brim, watching his eyes dart up to you. His fingers graze over your soft skin, spreading your folds open, as he moves his stiff, wet tongue against your clit. He starts slowly, at first moving in long slow strokes, your body jolts a bit, slowly adjusting to the new feeling. He carefully slips a digit into you, feeling how you squeeze and twitch under his touch. He applies more pressure, moving his tongue rhythmically, and pushing his finger further and further into you. You start to pant and grab the sheets under you. With each stroke he makes, you fall deeper into euphoria, your face burning from the pleasure

“Sugie~” you whined. He moves both of his hands to either side of your hips and holds them down, making sure you feel everything that comes with ‘just a taste’. Your breaths become ragged and out of control, and your back practically levitates off the bed. He swirls himself in deep circles, drool escaping his mouth and drowning your cunt. He tounges you like you’re the sweetest treat he’s ever tasted, his brows furrowed as small groans escape his mouth, the vibrations and hot air adding to your arousal. You leave your mouth agape as the feeling drowns out any sense of the world around you, though it’s short lived as whines and silent moans leave your lips, moving quickly, you cover your mouth.

Suguru makes a disapproving groan against your clit making it beat with anticipation. He reaches up to your arms, sliding his hands down to your wrists. “Pretty girl,” he coos, vibrations still threatening to bring you over the edge. “Keep these down for me, or I’m going to tie you up, ok?” he warned, his voice deepening with lust. You nod and he slowly lets go of your hands, letting your fists bury themselves into the sheets. As he starts up again, this time suckling against your sweet bulb, your eyes shut tightly as you mindlessly attempt to move your hips towards him, your back practically levitates off the bed, begging for the pressure down below to finally release. Forlorn cries bounce off the walls as the familiar sound of sucking and huffing fills your ears, not nearly giving you enough time to breathe. But then he suddenly stops.

"Eyes on me.” You open your eyes and look at him, tears of joy form as he eases in two digits, beckoning a sharp gasp from you. His gaze grows softer shoots shoots you that same knowing smile. Knowing that he’s watching you, he’s touching you, he’s making you feel this way, it brings you over the edge, your tight walls seizing and leaking all over Suguru’s fingers, clutching faster and harder with every thrust. He traces his lips over your stomach back to your beating clit, eyes piercing through your skull, until the pressure building in your stomach finally boils over, appearing in the form of a gushing fountain. Your body tenses up until every last drop seeps out.

You look down at Suguru, who’s licking translucent slick off his fingers, his other hand still squeezing your thigh. “What? Want a taste?” He teases, crawling over your now limp body to position his lips above yours. They fall, lightly dancing against them, his hand finding its way under you and holding you close. His kisses become wider as he inches his tongue against yours, the slight metallic taste fulfilling your senses. 

“You should only taste this way for me, you know?”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Perfumery Vocabulary

Absolute - An extraction from a concrete using alcohol. The essential oil of scented flowers and other aromatic plant parts in its purest and most concentrated form. It is extremely expensive. A few important oils used in an absolute form are: geranium, lavender, lily, and rose.

Accord - A combination of a number of different scents which blend together to produce a new fragrance.

Agrestic - "Of the countryside"; odours of heather, forest depths, and the meadow.

Aldehydes - Aromatic chemicals isolated for the first time in the 19th century, but that also occur naturally. Certain aldehydes provide an increased diffusiveness, sparkle, and lift to perfumes, most famously in Chanel No. 5.

Almondy - Bittersweet, soft, and nutty scent.

Amber - An accord in perfumery that is supposed to recall the qualities of ambergris. It is often constructed with labdanum, Tolu balsam, or Peru balsam. Often an accord in Oriental perfumes.

Ambergris - A highly prized perfume ingredient consisting of the oxidized excretion from a sperm whale. It is rarely used in its natural form in perfumery because of its rarity, exorbitant cost, and concerns about sourcing ambergris from live whales rather than from shore-found ambergris. It’s said to have an earthy, sweet, tobacco, and pleasantly animalic scent. It primarily works to bring out other notes in perfumery rather than to impart a particular scent on its own.

Ambrein - The primary scented molecule in ambergris, isolated and used in perfumery. It’s warm, sweet, vanillic, and ambery, with facets of spice and tobacco.

Animalic - Describes fragrances with animal ingredients in natural or synthetic form, including civet, castoreum, musk, or ambergris. The voluptuous, erotic, and sometimes disturbing quality of animalic perfumes can register in an olfactory way, as something “dirty” or animal-smelling, or as a feeling, a mood, or a quality. Sometimes, it can be both.

Aromatic - Having a strong or distinctive smell.

B—E

Balance - A combination of different fragrance notes so adjusted in proportion to one another that none of the individual notes is more prominent than any of the others.

Balsamic - The resin from the bark of trees and shrubs (Peru, Tolu, styrax) that have a rich vanilla scent. Balsamic is a term used to describe perfumes with the soft, ambery aspects these resins impart.

Benzoin - A sweet, balsamic resin used in incense and as a base note in perfume for its vanillic scent and fixative properties. Also known as styrax because it comes from the bark of the styrax tree.

Bergamot - The essential oil from the peel of the nonedible Citrus aurantium fruit that looks like a small orange. Its sweetish, mellow lemony scent is a crucial top note in perfumery.

Calone - A synthetic “marine” note that is supposed to evoke the freshness of the ocean. It has a slight watermelon facet.

Camphoraceous - Describes a fresh, clean, medical fragrance.

Caramel - Sweet, rich, creamy, buttery scent.

Cardamom - An intensely aromatic, sweet spice from the ginger family, in the form of a pod filled with seeds.

Carnation - A smoky, sweet, and clove-like scent, the latter facet due to Eugenol, the primary component of clove.

Cassis - (or black currant bud) A sharp, fruity, almost cat-urine-like scented perfume note.

Cistus - (or Labdanum) A resin from the rockrose bush, traditionally gathered from goats’ beards as they fed on the plant. Labdanum is said to be the note closest to the scent of ambergris. Creamy, soft, vanillic.

Citrus - Fresh, light fragrance characteristic of citrus fruits, but also imitated synthetically.

Civet - In classical perfumery, the cream harvested from the anal gland of the mongoose-like civet animal, often described as cat like. Fecal-smelling when undiluted, civet “rounds” out other notes when used judiciously. Famous as an overdosed note in Guerlain’s Jicky (1889), it is considered one of the first abstract modern scents. Civet is primarily in synthetic form now.

Clove - An aromatic spice similar to cinnamon, but less sweet. Its primary component is Eugenol.

Coniferous - The fragrance note of pine, spruce, juniper and similar such trees, often used in men's fragrances.

Diffusive - A perfume whose fragrance quickly becomes apparent in the air surrounding the wearer.

Dry - The aromatic effect of perfume ingredients such as woods and mosses in contrast to sweet and warm fragrances.

Earthy - The subtle fragrance impression of earth or earth-mould which is found in certain essential oils such as vetiver and patchouli.

Equine - Notes of hay and leather.

F—M

Floral - The general fragrance of flowers.

Fruity - Citrus, berries, tropical, and other non-citrus fruit scents.

Fungal - Molds, yeast, and mushroom scents.

Green - General fragrance of grasses and green plant parts.

Harmony - A pleasing combination of fragrance notes.

Hayfield notes - Usually based on coumarin, which have an odour of new-mown hay.

Heavy - Denotes a fragrance in which the least volatile ingredients, such as mossy or animalic ones, are dominant, giving a very strong effect. Such fragrances are mostly used in chypre and oriental-type perfumes.

Herbaceous - The characteristic general fragrance of herbs and herbal medicines. Sage, rosemary and lavender are examples.

Honey - Used as an ingredient in early Arab perfumes and appears in later European ones (e.g., Honey Water). In modern perfumery a substance providing the sweet aromatic effect of honey and known as Honey (or Miel) is manufactured synthetically.

Indolic - The disquieting, ripe, animalic, and almost excremental facet of scents.

Leather - A perfume accord and category of perfume constructed from various notes, including birch tar, styrax, castoreum, and a variety of synthetic notes.

Light - Delicate, clean, and fresh-laundry scent.

Marine - Iodized scent.

Mellow - Soothing and calming scent.

Metallic - A fragrance reminiscent of metal, providing a clean, cool effect. Metallic notes are used in perfumes to assist in promoting an effect, not as main fragrances.

Minty - A fragrance reminiscent of mint, e.g., peppermint or spearmint. Such fragances are usually used to provide a special, fresh effect in a top note.

Mossy - The general odour of oils obtained from mosses and lichens.

Musk - Produced by the musk deer and excreted by the male during mating season. Musk deer were killed almost to extinction for their valuable musk glands, which were dried, and whose musk “seeds” were removed and steeped in alcohol to create tinctures for perfume. The scent of real musk is warm, with depth and a dark animalic aroma. Many synthetics now can mimic musk scent, but one of the most superior musk synthetics, nitro-musks, which were in Chanel No. 5 and countless other vintages, has been banned due to toxicity concerns. Musk can also be substituted with plant ingredients including ambrette seed and angelica.

Musty - Damp, earthy, or stale odor.

N—W

Narcotic - Exceptionally strong and heavy fragrances obtained from some flowers (e.g. jasmine and tuberose) and animalic ingredients, which need to be used with careful discretion in a perfume.

Ozonic - A perfume accord that attempts to create the smell of fresh air after a thunderstorm.

Peppery - Odour of pepper.

Powdery - Soft and clean scent.

Rich - Fragrances that have numerous layers, notes, and accords in all stages (top, mid, base), creating a multifaceted feel.

Rounded - The overall smoothness and fullness of a fragrance.

Sharp - A strong scent.

Smoky - The slight smell of smoke created in a perfume by certain oils such as Birch Tar Oil. It is used in men's fragrances to provide a leathery effect.

Spicy - Describes in general the distinctive fragrance of essential oils which have been obtained from spices.

Sweet - A sweet and rather sugar-like fragrance such as vanilla.

Tobacco - Fragrances resembling cured tobaccos, which are particularly popular in masculine toiletries.

Wintergreen - Has a very powerful and fresh, medicinal odour.

Woody - Fragrances reminiscent of wood. These fragrances are provided by wood oils, such as cedar, by essential oils from other plants having a wood-like aroma, such as patchouli, and by synthetics.

Sources: Perfume: The Art and Craft of Fragrance by Karen Gilbert ⚜ The Perfume Handbook by Nigel Groom ⚜ Scent & Subversion by Barbara Herman ⚜ Scent: A Natural History of Fragrance by Elise Vernon Pearlstine ⚜ Introduction to Perfumery by Tony Curtis & David G. Williams ⚜ The Big Book of Perfume

More: Word Lists ⚜ References ⚜ Describing Scent ⚜ Fragrance Notes & Levels

[wintfleur]

𝓛ITTLE MISS SUNSHINE

aka heathers profile

━━━ ❛ cause she’s that kind of book you can’t put down

ꪆ୧ BASICS .ᐟ

name: Heather Elise Hughes 

nicknames:

tiny (close friends) 

sunshine (everyone)

elie (parents & willy ) 

sweet girl (ellen) 

hattie (brothers) 

heath (jack) 

princess (joe) 

honey (joe) 

petal (joe) 

birthday and zodiac: May 14th 2001, taurus 

age: 23

birthplace: orlando, florida 

location: 

michigan (former)

vancouver, canada (former) 

cincinnati, ohio (currently) 

ꪆ୧ APPEARANCE  .ᐟ

eye color: blue 

glasses? heather prefers to wear her glasses, only really wearing contacts when she just doesn't want to deal with her glasses, usually when she goes out. 

hair color: medium blond 

hair styles: heather likes to keep her hair down at mid-back length, with curtain bangs that frame her face. to keep her hair out of her face and up, she likes putting it in a ponytail or a lower bun, or in two braids. 

skin tone: pale ivory 

height: 5’4 

scars: has a few scares littered across her hands from years of being in the kitchen.

piercing(s): two in both of her lobes 

tattoo(s): none 

face claim: sabrina carpenter 

ꪆ୧ ABOUT  .ᐟ

personality: anyone who knew heather or knew of her, would always describe her as being the ‘sweetest soul’. ever since she was little she's always tried to look for the best in people, treating everyone with kindness and fairness. Heather has a very warm personality, kind, friendly, enthusiastic and she loves showing affection emotionally or physically. Heather is soft spoken but can get a little loud/giggly when she feels happy/comfortable. A lot of her friends have said she has a nurturing personality, and just someone you want to be around and have in your life. Despite her soft spokenness she is very protective of the people she loves, luke likes to joke about her being like a ‘mama bear’ 

good traits: kind, honest, loyal, creative, family oriented, comforting, passionate, grateful 

bad traits: self critical, emotional when tired, an overthinker 

quirks: very affectionate, rants/rambles, nods when she listens to people talk, fidgets with her glasses, is always putting on chapstick, fidgets with her or joes hands when nervous, bites her lip when she's focused 

likes: christmas, animals, boats, cuddling with joe, skating with her brothers, conspiracy theories, her nintendo switch, journaling, singing, natural sunlight, snoopy, trying new recipes, cloudy weather 

dislikes: rude people, scary movies, spiders, being put on the spot, being taken advantage, bad manners, mansplaining  

hobbies: art, reading, gardening, jogging, singing, pilates, hockey, drawing, scrapbooking, knitting 

fears: losing her family, tight spaces, being buried alive, clowns 

strengths: her kindness, time management, her generosity, organized, her intellect 

weaknesses: her kindness at times, doesn't realize when people are using her, gives to many chances to people who don't deserve them, her anxiety, tends to overwork herself, gets headaches easily 

languages spoken: english (fluent) french (learning)

occupation/profession: owner of her own bakery, pastry chef, florist & influencer/singer 

ambition/dream: to have her own family 

current concern: how to convince joe that they should get a puppy 

currently listening to: lovebug - jonas brothers 

ꪆ୧ RELATIONSHIPS  .ᐟ

parents:

Jim hughes 

Ellen Weinberg-hughes 

sibling(s):

Quinn hughes

Jack hughes 

Luke hughes 

best friends: cole caufield, william nylander, olivia grace lennox, sophie carter, elora smith, mark suh

friends: most of her brothers friends & teammates, ja’marr chase, kennedy walsh, joe’s teammates, hailee steinfeld, justin herbert

love interest: joe burrow 

pet(s): a male white cat, named snoopy 

ꪆ୧ MORE .ᐟ

scent: in the words of her closest friends and family ‘warm and comforting’ she either smells like flowers or fresh bread / pastries or her signature perfume Gucci flora. Her scent is very welcoming and warm, and it lingers. She's often thought about when people smell fresh flowers or fresh bread. Her scent isn't overwhelming at all, it's very welcoming and comforting, some associate her with the smell of christmas. 

outfits: a few stable items in her wardrobe is;  her sweaters, her skirts, and tights. Heather loves clothes so she has a large wardrobe. She will wear all different shades of clothing, as long as she matches, she likes to look presentable. her day to day clothing consists of skirts, low rise or mom jeans, sweaters, baby tees, long sleeves or short dresses with tights under them. If she wants to be more comfortable, she likes wearing a pair of loose jeans and a big sweater. Heather is a big boots, platforms and Mary Jane girl, she has a few pairs of sneakers but they don’t normally go with her regular outfits. She likes experimenting with clothes! 

accessories: Heather is a big fan of accessories, she has many different pairs of prescription glasses so she has a lot of options for outfits. She loves wearing hair clips, thick hair bands, ear muffs, berets, bows, sunglasses. for her bags she likes having smaller ones for when she goes out, cute tiny keychains on them, for her more practical bags she likes having keychains on them as well. 

jewelry: heather loves jewelry! But she honestly doesn't wear it on the regular, it usually gets in her way as she bakes and it's just more sanitary if she doesn't wear it at all. She does wear her gold arden diamond promise ring that Joe got her every single day, always putting it in a safe place if she's baking. But for the days she's not baking, she likes wearing a few rings at a time, she doesn't care if it's gold or silver. She’s not a fan of necklaces, but she almost always wears her matching locket that she has with her mom. She owns a few bracelets and always goes back and forth between them. 

makeup: Heather's day to day makeup is usually just some light concealer, some mascara, eyeliner, lipgloss/lipstick, she likes to keep it very light. But on days where she wants to wear more, she likes doing some highlighter, eyeshadow, and sometimes her eyebrows! 

sexuality: bisexual 

health issues?  heather has severe anemia 

ꪆ୧ FAVORITES .ᐟ

food(s): tortellini, carrots, asparagus, steak 

drink(s): hot chocolate, coffee, ice tea, lemonade, dr pepper 

color(s): earth tones, pinks, yellow 

animal(s): dogs, cats, bears, horses (literally all animals) 

bands and artist: ABBA, Fleetwood Mac, florence + the machine, faye webster, beach boys, five seconds of summer

show(s): gilmore girls, yellowstone, outer range, gossip girl 

movie(s): nightmare before christmas, princess diaries, lord of the rings, harry potter 

person: joe and luke 

ꪆ୧ BACKGROUND .ᐟ

heather and alongside her older twin brother jack – by 18 minutes, were born on a bright and sunny monday. 

heather was 6 when she first made her first cake by herself, she often helped her mother in the kitchen and that made her realize her love for baking. 

when Heather was 7 she started figure skating, quitting when she was 17. She was naturally talented at the sport and could have gone pro, but that’s not what she wanted to do in life, 

in elementary school heather was in her first school musical, finding her love for singing. 

heather graduated high school at 16 

from age 17 – 19 (2019 – 2021) heather lived in Vancouver with quinn, for college. 

In January of 2022 Heather moved to Cincinnati, Ohio to fulfill her dream of opening up her bakery/flower shop. 

ꪆ୧ FUN FACTS  .ᐟ

heather started a YouTube channel in 2020 during the pandemic, at first, she only posted baking and singing covers, but she now posts vlogs as well, she has over 6 million subscribers. 

heather has been planning on releasing her first album soon!

heather has modeled a few times

heather along with her two best friends, sophie and elora have a podcast together, it has over 3 million subscribers. 

heather is an extrovert, she's definitely a people person 

heather was very popular in school, having friends in every ‘clique’ 

heather is a very creative artistic person! She loves showing her creativity in everything she does 

heather is a very motherly friend, caring, supportive, comforting, and protective. Not just with her friends but also with her family. 

despite having a busy childhood - teenage life with all her hobbies and studying, she was a very helpful person, helping her neighbors, volunteering, babysitting, or tutoring. 

heather’s two major love languages is physical touch and cooking for people!

heather never does a half ass job. No matter what she's doing, heather is putting in her all! 

heather is extremely close with her family, her family means so much to her, she talks with them everyday

heather had a really bad breakup in early 2021, her and her now ex-boyfriend had been dating since early 2020. At first the relationship was great, but it had turned toxic with the way he was treating heather. Heather was the one to break up with him after he went too far. 

heather had her first relationship when she was 15 for 9 months with her first girlfriend, they still keep in touch with each other. 

heather is easily flustered, something her close friends and family love to tease her about 

heather is very loved by the nhl and nfl world, the fans, media, commentators all love her 

heather was always at the top of all of her classes, she took her education very seriously 

heather obviously has her Bachelor of Science in baking and pastry arts 

besides figure skating and hockey, she is very clumsy with other sports 

heather is only competitive with board games and baking! Other than that, she's not really competitive

her dream is to have a family of her own, she's always wanted to have a son and daughter 

heather was voted for three things in high school, best smile, most creative, and most caring. 

heather loves puzzles, doing them whenever she gets stressed. 

whenever her iron is low (her severe anemia) heather becomes very tired and emotional, she tries to stay cheerful, but you can tell that she’s struggling. 

heather loves shopping! 

Heather loves planning parties and get togethers, she loves getting the people she cares about together and enjoying a great time with them. 

Heather is a very festive person, for every holiday! She loves decorating and dressing up 

Heathers three favorite sports are, hockey, football and f1

lots of people get cuteness aggression with her 

heather has her very own bakery/flower shop called ‘petals n pastries’ 

It's a very warm and homey place, she has a very diverse customer base, from students of all ages, families, people of all ages, etc. But it's mostly college students who order and stay in the bakery. 

The front of the place is where the bakery and seating are held, there is an entrance to the side of the place that leads to the back where there is an outside patio where you can find all the flowers! 

It is a very popular and well-known place despite being a few years old. It's often talked about its delicious pastries, beautiful flowers, the warm and comforting ambiance and the kind and friendly staff. 

Heather never wastes any of the food, donating it to homeless shelters and local food banks, and even fire departments. No flower is wasted as well, donating them to nursing homes, cancer support centers and women shelters. 

Heather is often called a workaholic for how much she works, but she really just loves it, her bakery and flower shop is her dream, and she just wants it to thrive. 

Heather is a chaotic drunk, she always wants to have fun! She’s very giggly and clingy, but she’s the type of drunk that you always have to keep your eye on, because one minute she will be standing there the next she’s climbing something!! she’s definitely the life of the party

heather has three Instagram accounts, her personal one is @/heatherhughes and her private Instagram is @/hattiehughes and her Instagram for her bakery and flower shop is @/PetalsNpastries

Her private twitter, which is basically like her diary, is @/heathhughess

ꪆ୧ POSTS N MORE .ᐟ

heatherhughes just posted !

📍Cincinnati, Ohio 

liked by nicohischier, matthewknies, teehiggins and more

🏷️ soph_carter , joeyb_9

🎵 : suddenly I see - kt tunstall

heatherhughes  ☀️

view all comments 

haileesteinfeld pretty girl 🤩

lahjay10_ joe can definitely see with those big ass glasses 🤣

joeyb_9 bro 😐

heatherhughes BAHAHAH 😭

elorasmithsss cutest girl 😚

elorasmithsss soph really is just cheesing 🤗

heatherhughes our smiley girl 😚

jackhughes please get a dog, I want to live my dog parent life through you 😔

heatherhughes I’m trying to convince Joe 🙏

lhughes_06 snoopy ☹️

heatherhughes he misses you! (pls come visit)

colecaufield oh? back to the guitar era? let’s goooo

heatherhughes my fingers HURT.

_quinnhughes I miss your baking please come back 😪

heatherhughes just my baking?? what about my personality hmm??

justinherbert so I’m gonna need that pie ☝️

heatherhughes I just so happen to be selling that pie…

username the life I want to to live

username her outfits are always so pretty 😵‍💫

username drop joe!!

username how is joe pulling that???

soph_carter the outfits? slaying! the face card? Never declines! 😻

heatherhughes me?? Blushing! 🤭

markSuhhh it’s not fair that my dog loves you more than me :(

heatherhughes no….he loves snoopy more than both of us 😣

joeyb_9 blessing my feed petal 😻

joeyb_9 but why that pic 😭

heatherhughes my handsome nerd 🤓

𝓻oro’s note. oh heather hughes my sunshine girl ☀️ i really hope you guys like her!! she’s so dear to me :( this au is interactive so please send in as many asks as you want!

𝓭ie 𝔀ith 𝓪 𝓼mile m.list

you can find everything for this au under this tag #⭐️ ꞌꞋ ࣪ _ 𝓭ie 𝔀ith 𝓪 𝓼mile 𐙚 . ꒱

˖ ་ taglist : @winterbarnesblog @toasttt11 @iceflwers @cixrosie @bunbunbl0gs

©️WINTFLEUR ; you can't copy, translate, reproduce, repost my fic, use my plot or layout.

[gureumz]

bet? bet!

like a freak, like a g [installment 1]

rating: explicit

member: jake

premise: there's not much secrets to be found out with the director of recruitment. but he does recruit you for one hell of a challenge: fuck your way around his frat house.

notes: fem!reader, greek life!au, university!au, fwb!jake, slightly possessive!jake (but he's also down to share), dirty talk, brief mention of pregnancy, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: first installment of the 'sleeping around the frat house' series! tried something different here, not sure if it'll work but i like this one~ i'm so excited for this series so i hope you all join along for the ride! *divider by cafekitsune

jake sim is not your boyfriend.

he's a friend. from high school. who happens to go to the same university as you.

for the first few weeks of freshman year, the two of you were each other's default, having moved to this city all on your own for your respective degrees.

orientation, vacant periods, dinner after class. all of these were spent with jake. you clung onto each other like velcro. freshman jake and ______ versus the world.

and then jake decided to rush for a frat and you got roped into your own extracurriculars. the friendship faded into texts here and there about things that reminded you of each other. memes. an occasional selfie update.

until jake invited you to the frat's recruit-organized party for the year.

"i bought all the booze," jake had declared proudly, voice straining over the booming music. you nodded, genuinely impressed by how well the recruits put the party together.

"it's a fun party," you practically yelled into jake's ear. he pulled back and smiled down at you.

the recruits even managed to rent party lights for the night. and under the purple-red glow of the strobes, you realized just how handsome jake is up close. even when he's standing at the top of the stairs and you at the bottom, him beckoning you up, you could readily admit he was hot.

and you kind of did.

"jake," you breathed out quietly, leaning over the banister from the second floor overlooking the party below. jake is right beside you.

he turned to you, eyes blinking slowly from the alcohol he's consumed thus far. jake leans in closer and you can smell the heineken on his breath.

"i'm kinda...bored," you said rather lamely. jake snorted, leaning his head down on your shoulder. you breathe the scent of his shampoo in, nuzzling your face in his soft raven hair.

"what do you wanna do?" jake asked, craning his neck to look at you from where he's still laid down on your shoulder.

jake snaked an arm around your waist and you knew you were done for. a second later, you were kissing, and within another minute, he's pushing you towards the direction of his room at the very end of the hall.

"fuck, you're so hot," you blurted out over the creaking of his bed, his movements messy and frantic but still enough to have you throwing your head back in pleasure.

"so are you," jake had said, grinning down at you. his hands dug into your sides, keeping you pinned in place as he fucked into you with the enthusiasm only a drunk college frat boy could possess.

and the rest was history.

---

it went on like this for the next year and a half. a friendship maintained through quickies in his car and semi-dates in his frat house bedroom, takeout boxes on his desk while he fucked you doggy style on his (still) creaky bed.

it's not to say you kept things exclusive. that wasn't part of the deal.

whatever the deal is. you haven't really talked about it.

there would be times when neither of you would reach out for weeks or months on end. you'd start to wonder why he was gone so long but then you'd see jake post a girl's hand or half of someone's face on his instagram story, complete with an obscure poetic indie love song in the background.

ah. of course.

in your defense, you had your fair share of flings and situationships here and there. one even came close to an actual serious relationship.

yeonjun, a music major senior you went out with last year when you were a sophomore. he took you out to dates and introduced you to his friends and wrote you songs. but he always found an excuse to avoid that conversation.

(you found out without much difficulty that it was just his ex begging for him to come back.)

guess what happens next.

and so by the tail end of last academic year, you and jake somehow were aligned once again. both single. both horny.

three months later and here you are after the first day of classes of your third year, naked on jake's bed. just like the old times.

"i missed you," jake whispers, hands moving frantically over your body, tugging at your clothes while his mouth busied itself on your neck.

"we saw each other back home a few weeks ago," you reply, giggling when you feel jake lick a stripe up to your jaw.

he can be a little excitable sometimes. like a puppy.

"weeks, ________. can't believe you flew off to some island somewhere while i was left alone to jerk off to pictures of you," jake complains, blowing hair out of his eyes as he pulls away. he tugs his shirt off in one graceful swoop and you're greeted with an eyeful of his abs.

"well, if it's any consolation, i touched myself to your pictures, too," you respond, dropping your voice to a seductive lilt. your hand smooths down jake's bare torso as he leans back down over you, a grin spreading on his face.

"yeah?" he asks.

"oh yeah," you affirm, nodding. you reach down to cup jake through his sweats, a quiet hiss escaping him as you do so.

"fuck, baby, need you so bad," jake admits, hurriedly tugging and kicking off his pants. he's bare under the cotton fabric, having foregone boxers. typical jake.

jake spits on his palm, wrapping his hand around his shaft right after, jerking it to full hardness. he bites down on his lip as his other hand grabs at one of your tits, kneading and squeezing.

"wait," you call out, laying a hand on jake's arm. "you haven't fucked anyone while i was gone, right?"

jake rolls his eyes playfully, leaning down to kiss you. your teeth clash for a moment and you gasp slightly, not expecting such passion from jake.

"only wanted to fuck you," jake admits. he quirks an eyebrow, eyeing you curiously. "how about you?"

you shake your head. "couldn't go longer than a day without thinking about you filling me up with that cock."

jake grins, kissing you again. he lines his tip with your entrance, pulling away slightly as he slips in between your slick folds.

"missed this," jake mutters, pushing more and more of himself in. you simultaneously sigh out in relief once he's bottoms out.

"missed you," he adds.

you snake your arms around jake's shoulders, pulling him close as he starts to rut against you. he moans softly next to your ear and you let yourself do the same, your voices mingling and bouncing off the walls of jake's tiny bedroom.

"fuck, _______," jake groans. "how are you always so tight?"

you don't answer, merely wrapping your legs around jake's hips, pulling him closer. you hear him grunt as he leans back to look at you. his eyes are dark but focused on you. you feel fingers snake around your throat and you can't help the way your eyes roll into the back of your head.

"yeah, that's right," jake chuckles. he squeezes at your jugular lightly and you whine, grabbing at jake's wrist.

"such a whore, aren't you? my cockhungry whore," jake declares. you love it when he gets possessive and you know he knows. he uses it to his advantage any time he can.

"yeah," you agree, nodding as best as you can with jake squeezing at your air pipes. your voice is strained, hoarse from the way jake is choking you.

"yours. only yours."

jake curses under his breath, letting go of your neck. you gasp for air but any attempt to breathe is quickly cut short as you feel jake press your legs up against your chest. you cry out in surprise, jake hammering into you with a newfound speed and strength that sends your brain in a frenzy.

you always felt a certain way when jake has you like this, cunt in full view, body folded nearly in half, fucking into you like he was trying to put a baby in you.

"mine." jake sounds nearly animalistic, a primal need taking over him as he forces your legs harder against your chest.

your head is spinning, limbs going limp with how hard jake is fucking you. the feeling in your abdomen snaps tight, threatening to break.

you babble incoherently a barely distinguishable mix of jake's name, curses, and pained pleas of 'more, need more!' or 'feel s'fucking good, jakey! your cock feels so good!'. it doesn't take long for jake to give the last of his frenzied thrusts, pushing in deep when he cums, spurts of himself filling you up just as you'd hoped.

jake continues to fuck into you after a while, knowing you haven't finished just yet. you reach down between your legs to press your fingers onto your clit, hips grinding up to meet jake's. he complains of oversensitivity but he goes on and by mercy, your own orgasm finally takes over, you clenching down on jake's half flaccid dick.

he pulls out after a few moments, finally allowing himself some relief. you're both breathing hard, sweaty and tired from the whole ordeal. you prop yourself up on your elbows, meeting jake's eyes.

"please don't deprive me for that long ever again," jake says with a sleepy smile, slumping over you. you giggle as you fall back against his bed, jake's face cradled in your neck,

you run your fingers through his disheveled hair, lips pressed against his temple.

jake sim is not your boyfriend but it's times like this that it feels like he might be.

a noise jostles you out of your thoughts. a phone notification.

jake lifts his head from your chest, blindly groping around his bed for his phone. he finally locates it after a moment, handing it to you.

"can you read that for me? jake requests, voice muffled as he snuggles closer to you.

you squint as the sudden brightness of the screen practically assaults your eyes. you blink a few times, reading the message displayed on the notification.

from hee: are you done? i had to physically restrain jay from pounding your door down.

"oh shit," you say, throwing your head back in embarrassment.

"your frat bros heard us," you inform jake.

jake merely snorts, winding his arms around you and pulling you closer.

"as they have a million times before," jake points out. "it's not like i'm the only one who fucks loudly in this house."

your ears perk up at that.

"oh? is the rest of the frat a bunch of man whores like you?" you tease, nudging jake lightly with your knee. he lifts his head up, frowning at you.

"i'm not a man whore, thank you very much," jake says with a roll of his eye. "can't speak for the rest of them, though."

"spill," you urge, raising your eyebrows expectantly at jake.

"sorry, babe, the secrets of the frat must be kept with full confidentiality," jake counters with a shrug.

you narrow your eyes at that. you've seen jake's frat brothers around a handful of times. you'd have to be blind to not see their good looks. and you'd have to be a liar not to admit that they are, indeed, good-looking.

"unless you want to find out for yourself," jake adds, giving you a look as if to say, 'i dare you'.

you straighten up, leaning against jake's headboard.

"let's say i do want to find out," you begin, crossing your arms against your chest.

jake's mouth falls open but his expression quickly shifts into a look of mischief. he looks off to the side, as if pondering on what to tell you. after a few seconds, he snaps his fingers and returns his gaze to you. he's practically bouncing with excitement.

"you can always sleep your way around the house," jake suggests, cocking a brow, as if to challenge you.

you pause. a million different questions come tumbling down on you. before you could get a word out, jake holds out his arms.

"or, at least, the executive committee," jake hurriedly adds. "i can guarantee you, all the other members aren't worth your time."

if you weren't interested before, you're definitely intrigued now.

"i got one ticked off so far," you muse, smiling sweetly at jake. "not much secrets to be found with the director of recruitment."

it takes jake a moment to realize you're referring to him. he rolls his eyes, reaching over to tickle your side. you swat his arm away, giggling.

"as if any of the others could fuck you the way i do," jake scoffs. he leans over the side of the bed, reaching for his discarded shirt. he tosses it in your direction.

you catch the fabric in your hands, pulling it over your head. jake stops as he straightens up, the rest of his and your clothes in his hands. he gives you a one-over and smirks.

"make sure to let them fuck you while you wear this, okay?" jake teases, leaning in to kiss you.

"no promises," you taunt back. jake pulls away, a look of confusion on his face.

"you're not actually serious, are you?" jake questions. you nearly laugh at jake's genuinely clueless expression.

"why not? might be fun," you say with a shrug.

"besides, i never back down from a good challenge," you add.

jake studies you for a moment. you briefly think he might be mad or god forbid, disgusted with what you're attempting to do, but after a while, a shit-eating grin takes over his face.

"atta girl," jake says, winking. he kisses you again, hands grabbing at your waist.

jake sim is not your boyfriend because what boyfriend lets you fuck around with his frat brothers? but then again, it's not too late to talk about it. whatever it is with jake.

but for now, you have a task to get to.

[goldsbitch]

Right? p3

summary: Y/N is a photographer for McLaren F1 team. Hard working, goal oriented professional who would never put her career in jeopardy for some stupid crush, right?

That is until a photoshoot gets out of hand and there is no way to go but forward.

part 1, part 2

"Y/n!"

You slowly turned. The plan was to leave with the rest of the team, not staying behind with Lando - alone.

"I just have few ideas for the next phoshoot, if you'd like to talk about it," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Professional. "Of course!" And with that, the last person left the room and closed the door.

The media meeting room was one of the few rooms without glass doors or windows. The only light present was from the projecting screen, still showing a big photo of Lando fucking Norris.

He was leaning on the table, light reflecting in his face while he was observing the picture.

"Narcissist much?" you teased and also leaned next to him. It's like his body was sending magnetic signals to yours.

"Always. " He paused for a moment. "If I recall correctly, these were all shot in the forest." You chose not to react. He gave you a questioning look. "Where is the rest?"

You should have expected this. Wishful thinking was not working in your favor. Or was it?

"I'm missing the car pictures, the ones where you stood above me and perhaps even those where you sat on me. Am I right?"

You turned and looked him straight to the eye. If tension was a fog in the room, you'd be able to see at arms-lenght only.

"I guess the battery gave out sooner than I noticed," you replied nonchalantly.

Lando stepped into the projector light. "Yes, that must be it...Or, there is a reason why you don't want to show them."

He was standing way too close. You had no defense for his charm. The damn scent again. The only thing you had on mind was burying your face in his neck and leaving your own mark on him. Would he be the one to moan? How would that sound?

"You know, I also like to take photos."

"Is that so?"

He was facing you directly. With a noticable hasitation, he put his finger on your chin, tracing the lines of your jaw. He ended up with him finger and his eyes on your lips.

"I would love to be on the other side of the lens. Take photo of you for once."

We are sorry to inform you, that all traces of professionality have left the room.

He slowly traced your lips with his finger and while remaining direct eye contact, you opened your mouth and licked it. It was slow, with a little pause and then suddenly the mouth that kissed yours, like he had once in real life and several times in your dreams. .

Almost as if he had read your mind, he proceeded to kiss your neck, softly not to leave a mark, but enough for him to find out you in fact do moan. His hand, wrapped around your hips, squeezed you as a direct response to the soft sounds coming out of your mouth.

"Lando," you whispered.

"Yes, baby?" his voice was shivering as well. This should not make you proud. You should stop now, anyone could walk in. You managed to break out of your paralysis, even if it was the last thing you wanted to do.

"Lando, stop."

He stopped kissing you promptly. Your foreheads pressed together.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. You almost laughed. The only thing he should feel sorry for was the fact his mouth was not exploring your body anymore.

With heavy heart, you pulled away. This was probably a silly game for him, one with potentially horrible consequences.

"I can't risk my job like this."

He nodded. "I understand. I guess. I mean, I think the times are changing a bit."

"Like having an affair with essentially your boss is not bad anymore?"

"I'm not your boss."

Oh maybe he should be.

"You know what I mean. For me it's not just a job."

He took a moment to think. "That's probably the hottest thing about you. The passion. I can understand that."

Your stomach spun. Lando called you hot?

"It's impossible for me to keep passing you around as if it's nothing. Been too long." You remained calm, knowing well enough you'll have many night to think about this sentence.

"Do you say this to all the female staff?" you joked, but tiny part of you had a legitimate worry. You were not going to be one of many, too proud for that.

"I'd have to quit if there were even only two like you, one is enough to handle."

This time you approached him and kissed him first. A little bit slower than you kissed before. It was quick, as you heard some steps on the hallway.

"Let's go on a date. Privately. So we can think clearly," he insisted.

"I don't think other people are the reason why I'm not thinking clearly."

"Come on, say yes."

"Yes, let's."

Lando stepped away, becoming more of his work self again. You went to turn on the lights again. "We can either go and take photos of you for this time, or you can show me the ones you hid from others."

The door opened and you were relieved it didn't happened a minute ago.

"Yes, let's do another photoshoot," you smirked at Lando.

part 4

______________________________________________________________

@i-wish-this-was-me

[strangerstilinski]

eddie the hero

summary; the holidays bring about daddy issues of the decidedly un-sexy variety, but eddie is a total sweetheart and a goofball to boot. (this is very self indulgent.) 2.6k warnings; some angst but a very very fluffy end, trauma from overly-critical parents, eddie being sweet, some blood, a brief anxiety attack maybe?, i think reader is written gn (eddie refers to reader as a fair maiden but like jokingly? so do with that what you will) a/n; turns out, a combination of being home for the holidays and listening to mean by miss swift on the drive out brought up, uh... this. shout out to my dad for being himself over this holiday season, and shoutout ruby for very delicately insisting (repeatedly) that i get my shit together and simply.. make something of this trauma dump. so here it is; a wee bit of angst with lots of fluff to round it all out.

The kitchen is in chaos.

You've got about a hundred different things going at once in an effort to get everything ready for the holiday dinner that you and Eddie agreed to host. The smell of cinnamon from your morning baking endeavors still lingers in the air, though it's slowly being overtaken by rosemary and and the earthy scent of fresh vegetables. The hair at the nape of your neck is beginning to feel a bit stifling with heat from the oven already warming house, and you make a mental note to crack a window once your friends and family begin trickling in.

It's a little overwhelming, but you're doing your best to get what you've deemed the more detailed-oriented aspects of preparation done while Eddie is busy in the shower.

You intend to be finished by the time he's done getting ready. A mental plan has been laid out. You'll have the knife in your hand washed and dried and put away before he even emerges from the bathroom— no problem.

There was a problem though: you hadn't been quick enough.

You're in a zone of sorts. So much so, that you don't notice the footfalls of your boyfriend making his way down the hallway toward the kitchen. When he speaks from the doorway, his voice takes you completely by surprise.

"What are you doing?" Eddie's voice is soft as ever, though you're unable to process the gentle innocence in the tone of his question.

The realization that you've been caught has the heat in the kitchen very suddenly feeling entirely too warm. Your collar is entirely too tight around your neck while your mind whirls with sudden anxiety.

It's as if Eddie is no longer there. Instead, your ears are filled with the echo of your father's voice, the condescension in his tone ringing sharply in your skull.

"What are you doing?"

"Why are you doing it like that?"

"It's not that hard, bud. Just do it like this and it'll be better. How many times do I have to tell you-"

His voice would toe the line between irritated and amused, narrowed eyes making you feel a fool. It would prompt a frustrated prickle behind your own eyes and a tightness in your jaw when he'd show you the way you should've been doing it in the first place.

You heart races now with that unhealed scab of your father's never ending dissatisfaction. His impossible standards. His mean little digs and criticisms that masqueraded as him merely wanting you to be better.

Because you could always be better.

Growing up it was sports, your effort in school, it was the way you putted in mini golf, it was 'why on earth would you not dry the glasses when you washed dishes? That's just stupid because now they'll air dry with spots and-' From there began the slow evolution into the way that you drove your car, the way you spent money, how often you called and what time of day you called when you did..

Nothing you did was enough. In his eyes, there here was always something wrong, something that could be improved.

It's entirely possible that the stress of the holiday is getting to you already, if the way you've very quickly begun to spiral is any indication. And though there's nothing more than curiosity in your boyfriend's question, the familiarity of it makes you flinch nonetheless.

It happens in a flash. The paring knife in your grip slips and the blade slices the edge of your thumb instead of the potato you'd been getting prepped for boiling. A sharp sting that you barely notice. The sight of the blood that pools quick from the shallow cut has your ears ringing, Eddie's soft curses sounding muffled when they curl at your ears. It's a bit like you're underwater, sounds eerily distorted and brain fuzzy with the heavy beat of your heart.

"Sorry—"

It comes out as nothing more than a murmur under your breath. With a slight delay, you have the foresight to move your hand from above the bowl of already sliced and cleaned potatoes. Wrist now clutched to your chest, you zero in on the drops of blood that have already stained a few of them, red bleeding into the starchy whiteness.

"S-sorry, I just-"

Your voice is shaking as Eddie grabs a kitchen towel, his hands gently cradling your own and dabbing the towel at the cut so he can examine the severity of your injury. His brows are furrowed beneath the wispy curtain of his wet bangs, brown eyes wide with worry. His fingers are free of their normal assortment of rings, likely because he'd come out with the intent of helping you cook. Your eyes flick between his bare fingers and his shower-damp hair, between the roundness of his chin and the frown pulling at his lips — guilt pools heavily in your gut at the sight.

"I shouldn't 've been using a knife anyway, but I couldn't find the peeler s-so I just used the knife. I-I know it wastes more of the potato, I know that's not-" Your breath comes out trembling, your whole body wracking with it as your eyes prickle and burn with embarrassment. Your words come quicker, panicked, "I just wanted to get them done so I could get them in the water and start on the beans, but now I-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Eddie soothes, wide palm coming up to your flushed face where his thumb drags slow over the apple of your cheek while his other hand works to secure the dish towel in your fist to stop the bleeding, "Breathe, sweetheart. You're okay."

"I'm sorry," You whisper, voice thick with tears, "Was s' stupid, I'm sorry-"

"Baby.. Baby, hey-" His voice is soft. He squares his shoulders and follows your movement as he tries to meet your eye, brown finally connecting with shining pools that threaten to spill over. The pad of his thumb catches the first drop the moment that it breaks free, smoothing the moisture along your skin as he repeats the slow back and forth motion over your cheek. "The cut's not bad, it's not very deep.. What's going on, sweet thing? What's got you so worked up?"

Your next breath catches and it has your whole body quaking when it eventually whooshes out of your chest, a pitiful little sniffle escaping you in response to the sudden influx of tears.

"I- I was doing it wrong. I know- And then I- I got blood all over the potatoes-"

"We can wash the potatoes." Eddie says all too easily, though his voice still has that anxious edge to it that does nothing to make you feel better.

"We can.. We can wash the potatoes.." You repeat cautiously, as if the thought hadn't yet occurred to you.

"Yeah, baby. We can wash the potatoes." He echoes gently.

A shaky breath falls past your lips as you nod, "Sorry." You say again.

"I'm sorry," He insists with a shake of his head, "I came in here like a bat outta hell while you were holding a knife, and I scared you into hurting yourself. I was just- Potatoes we're supposed to be one'a my jobs. And, uh-" A grimacing excuse of a smile pulls at his lips, his eyes drifting to the discarded knife that lay at the bottom of the sink, "Well.. You couldn't find the peeler because it's in the dishwasher-"

You have to fight back a sigh at his admission, "Eddie-" You admonish weakly.

"I know, I know. It's not dishwasher safe. I know that, I do," Eddie says in a rush, "You've told me a million times, I just forget in the moment. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

His earnest apology has you reeling a bit. The fact that Eddie's instinct is not just to apologize, but also to explain away his mistake with guilt dripping heavy from his words-

You suddenly feel a bit like a monster. A cruel, perfection-driven bully of your father's creation. It has a fresh wave of tears pooling in your eyes and threatening to well over.

"God," The word comes out a choked sounding thing, buried beneath the tightness in your throat, "I'm sorry, Eddie. It's not a big deal, really, 's just a peeler. If the dishwasher ruins it we'll just buy another one for, like, a dollar."

"Yeah?" Eddie treads, a cautious smile pulling at the corner of his mouth while his thumb continues to drag soft over the wetness spread across your cheekbone.

"Yeah," You sniffle around the word, panic and realization settling in and promoting your chest to heave with quick breaths, "Jesus. Y-You shouldn't be worried about my reaction to something so.. So stupid. Fuck. I- I'm just like him-"

"Woah, woah, woah. Baby, hey.. Just like who?" Eddie interrupts with a renewed sense of urgency, "What're you talkin' about?"

"My dad-" You sob, shoulders trembling with it.

"Oh, baby, hey. Hey-"

In a flash, Eddie is guiding your head into the crook of his neck, wetness transferring onto his skin as a dam breaks and your body trembles with a series of heavy sobs. You slot into the space below his jaw just as perfectly as you always do, the two of you fitting together like puzzle pieces.

He smells like shaving cream and the conditioner you'd bought him especially for curly hair. The combination of the rich masculine scent on his skin with the sweet citrusy perfume clinging to his damp hair makes your head spin as you try valiantly to follow his soft demands for you to calm down.

His voice rumbles soft over your ear as he shushes you, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple all the while. The towel wrapped around your fist tightens when Eddie's bigger hand encases your own, a slow sway overtaking your body as he urges your weight to shift from foot to foot in a soothing motion. He rocks you back and forth, your socked feet shuffling against the kitchen tile, your boyfriend's chest pressed tight to your own.

A wide palm smooths up and down your spine, a tune that sounds distantly familiar rumbling over your ear when Eddie begin to hum softly into your hair.

A minute passes, shuddering breaths come and less, the heaving of your chest and the tears in your eyes settling until each sniffle feels more embarrassing than anything else. A weak laugh bubbles up from your throat as you hone in on your boyfriend's socked feet nudging at yours with every shift side to side, your fist tightening around the blood-stained towel for a moment before you're hooking your own fingers around the back of his hand, palms clasped together.

"'re we slow dancing right now?" You ask a bit breathlessly, finally lifting your head from the curve of his neck to peer up at his with swollen, reddened eyes.

"Mhm," Eddie hums and drops his forehead against your own. That hand on your spine hikes you up against him, air forced from your lungs and another bubbling laugh pushed up your throat.

"You trying to woo me, Munson?" Your tease comes out a bit raspy from all of the crying, but you watch a grin pull at his lips regardless.

"Why?" Big brown eyes flick between your own, a little cross-eyed with how close your faces sit, "S'it working?"

You bring your free hand up to curl around the back of his neck, fingers slipping beneath his wet curls to ensure his forehead doesn't leave yours.

"It might be.." The words come out in a murmur.

You're feeling a bit mesmerized by his proximity, even after all this time. A sudden spin from your boyfriend has you stumbling over your feet, the only thing keeping you from losing your balance completely being the steadying hand that quickly finds a place on your hip and slides back to the base of your spine.

"It might be?" Eddie repeats with a scoff, "Oh, it might be, you say." A small huff of laughter escapes you and puffs out against his chin as he continues on, "Well I guess I'll just have to up the ante then, won't I? What shall I do, my fair maiden? What is it you desire? I could finish this lovely holiday dinner by myself, provide thee with sustenance-"

It's you who scoffs this time, "Right, hilarious. Our friends and Wayne will be here in less than two hours-"

"Or perhaps I'll wait until nightfall, pluck a star straight from the sky for you. Because what other courting gift could be better suited for a maiden who shines so bright-"

"Eddie," You can't help but laugh at his dramatics. The drying tear streaks on your cheeks are long forgotten now, the ridiculous man in front of you is nothing if not an expert in getting your whole attention focused on him.

"No. No, you're right. That couldn't possibly be enough to prove my endless love and devotion," He makes a show of shaking his head as he releases you from his hold and takes a step back. A sidestep has him bumping into the sink basin, a wide grin already pulling at his lips. "But this!" He announces as he snatches the bloody paring knife from the sink with a flourish, "This cursed object! Laced with evil, I'm sure! This blade that has brought harm upon you!"

You watch Eddie dispose of the knife with a smile pulling at your lips, and you only spare a small wince at the fleeting worry that it might tear through the plastic bag lining the inside of the garbage can. Eddie drops to his knees in a flash, dark denim coming into contact with the kitchen tile at your feet. His hands grip at the backs of your thighs as he looks up at you with wide eyes, the brown pools swimming with mischief and humor and love.

"-It is dealt with, my dear. It will never hurt you again. This I swear-"

The blood-stained towel falls to the floor as you take his head in your hands, carefully avoiding the drying cut on your thumb. You're swallowing down laughter as you guide him to his feet again. Your heart feels full enough to burst, and Eddie's expression of faux-seriousness is almost enough to push a giggle from your lips.

"Oh, my hero," You whisper with all of the dramatisation you can manage, "My big, handsome savior. Whatever would I have done without you here to protect me? How can I ever thank you?"

Eddie brings his palms up to your cheeks in a flash, and you know it must be a ridiculous sight. The current disaster zone that is the kitchen; ingredients lining every available inch of countertop space, a pot of salted water very nearly boiling on the stovetop, and the two of you standing at the center of it all — cradling one another's faces with all the care in the world.

Brown eyes flick slow over your face, the freckles on the bridge of Eddie's nose catching your attention all the while.

"One million kisses." He proposes.

A laugh does escape you now, though it's a giddy one, slightly flustered by just how sweet the man before you is. Your cheeks feel warm with it as your uninjured thumb drags soft over his cheek.

"One million?"

"One hundred million!" He counters immediately.

"One hundred million?" You repeat in disbelief, "Now, what's a guy like you going to do with one hundred million kisses should I give them to you?"

"Maybe you're right. Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Eddie nods valiantly, "We could start with just one, and work our way up."

"That sounds more than reasonable," Your cheeks are beginning to ache with your smile.

You push up onto your toes to brush your lips over his, scarcely touching. But when Eddie pushes forward, you rock back in an easy move, your mouth remaining just out of his reach.

"I am going to need that knife to finish dinner though," You whisper, the hushed words rushing over his lips in one breath, "The others are too dull-"

"Consider it retrieved and washed," Eddie says easily, "As soon as I get my kiss-"

It ends up being more smile than kiss, in the end, but there will be millions more to make up for it.

[yexthiccxa]

The Angel With Horns Pt. 1

summary: you accept a teaching position at jujutsu high where you get to work with your childhood crush, suguru geto. unfortunately, that means you'll also have to work with your childhood nemesis, satoru gojo. are you going to rekindle new flames or potentially make new ones?

wordcount: 7.3k 🙃 (this is pt. 1 and it's four chapters long)

c/w: gojo/fem!reader, geto/fem!reader, gojo/oc, geto/oc, modern!au, teacher!au, smut, fluff & smut, some plot, plot what plot, flashbacks, timeskip, asshole!gojo, flirty!gojo, cocky!gojo, soft!geto, cousin!shoko, mutual pining, teasing, flirting, playful banter, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, sensual tension, sexual tension, pet names (angel), dry humping, fingering, oral, fantasizing, multiple orgasms, inappropriate use of cursed energy, inappropriate use of cursed techniques

a/n: eeeep. this is my first fanfic so feedback is welcome 🥺it’s a first person pov where the unnamed oc is meant to be the reader! Currently working on Part 2!

edit: just posted this part on ao3 if you'd rather read it there!

✦✧✸✧✦ 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ✦✧✸✧✦

Chapter 1: Reunited

It’s clear as day but my mind is fuzzy. There are thousands of thoughts surging through me, but all I can focus on is the pleasure filling my body. For as long as I’ve known him, I’ve always wondered if this day would ever come. My hips are pinned against his counter. Arms stretching wide while my fingers grip his sink. My neck rolls back as the rays of light blind me from his window. 

In my head, I’ve spent countless hours wondering how it feels to have his body pressed against mine. Or how his breath hovers on my neck as he pulls me closer. His scent is undeniably sweet, but the way he handles me tells me that he’s everything but that.

“I always thought you were a good girl,” he growls in my ear, kissing his way down to my neck like it was never his to claim. “I never expected you to prove me wrong.”

I imagined how his kisses would consume me, how his touch would paralyze me, and how his moans would ignite me. But in all these years, I never imagined this entire fantasy would be with someone else instead.

✦✧✸✧✦

TWO WEEKS AGO

The clouds begin to subside as I walk through the familiar gates of Jujutsu High. The droplets of rain fade away and a strange mix of emotions hit my core. Today marks the beginning of my journey as a teacher here, but I can't stop myself from feeling a pang of anxiety. Amid the unease, there’s still a sense of comfort in returning to a place I once called home.

My footsteps echo softly on the hallway tiles as I make my way to room 3-A for orientation. The memories of my time as a student creep into my thoughts. It’s changed in many ways, but I find solace in knowing that there are still a few people here that I can lean on.

When I moved back to Tokyo and got the teaching position, Shoko mentioned that Suguru taught here as well. Memories of him invaded my thoughts. We were practically inseparable during our high school years, largely due to my close bond with Shoko. Wherever she was, I was sure to follow—our Ieiri blood may tell us we’re cousins, but I always thought of her as my sister. Her friends were always fun to be around. However, they constantly got into situations that always put me on edge. Shoko has always been such a free spirit, and while I adore her, I know her comfort zone far surpasses my own. Despite my lack of participation in their wild adventures, I surprisingly never felt left out or lonely.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? Finding curses in abandoned hospitals sounds way cooler than studying curses… in a book,” I muttered to Suguru as I gestured to my pile of textbooks.

“How many times do we have to go over this? I’d rather practice my curse techniques here instead.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and lowered his face towards mine—his breath tickling my ear.

“Plus, taking care of you is a hell of a lot better than taking care of everyone else,” he chuckled.

“Who said you needed to take care of me?” I protested. He remained close, and I felt his mouth curve.

“I never said I needed to. I want to take care of you,” he whispered. A secret for only my ears to hear.

Throughout the years, I grew to love his playful laughter. It was soft, tinged with warmth and sincerity—though it always seemed to trail his jokes that slightly missed the mark. And his touch, though never sensual, always felt protective—like a wolf looking after its pack. The more I learned how sweet Suguru was, the deeper I fell in love. For years my guarded soul harbored this secret, and even if the world was ending, I swore to myself that I would never tell a soul. The "what ifs" often danced through my thoughts, but ignorant bliss always outweighed the risk of potential heartbreak.

My thoughts come to a halt as I turn a corner, and suddenly, I'm face-to-face with a towering presence. My breath catches, and my eyes instinctively trail up the contours of his strong frame. The world around me blurs for a moment, and my heart quickens. But before I can fully process the shock, a familiar voice calls out to me.

"Hey, there’s my girl! Did you realize the world wasn’t as great without me?" Suguru teases, his voice bringing back years of memories.

"Suguru!" I exclaim, a surge of excitement makes me toss my arms around him. My words tumble out eagerly, "If I was your girl, I probably would’ve never left." I laugh, though my heart races as curiosity causes his brow to rise. “I’m just kidding. Everything was great, but I’m glad to be back though." It may not have been the best save, but it’ll work for now.

My arms tighten ever so slightly, and I’m compelled to study him. His shoulders are still broad, yet somehow, they seem larger than I remember. His hair has grown longer, though he still keeps it partially tied. The chiseled contours of his jaw feel like steel against my skin, but his arms around waist are gentle and comforting. I notice that the morning gloom has officially cleared, because his beauty is bathed in sunlight. As we break away from our hug, his dark eyes meet mine with recognition and warmth, as if our time apart has only deepened our connection.

"Well, I’m glad it was good. I’ve missed you." he rumbles, his voice resonating like a soothing melody.

"Likewise," I reply with a warm grin, feeling a rush of nostalgia. "Will you be at orientation today?"

He explains that he has to help Yaga with some setup throughout the morning. I try not to let my smile drop, but he's quick to notice. Of course he notices, it's Suguru. Before I can even process my thoughts, he adds, "I have the same lunch break as everyone else though, let's catch up then? We can meet in the courtyard."

A surge of excitement washes over me, and I nod eagerly. "Sounds perfect," I reply. Feeling a newfound sense of confidence, I continue on my way to the orientation room. 

“I’ve missed you." his voice echoes through my mind. For a moment, I can't help but wonder, was he thinking about me the whole time I was gone? Why did he call me his girl? Does that mean he had feelings for me? No—stop, that can’t be. If he had feelings for me, he would've said something, right? But maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

My stomach begins to flutter as a seed of hope is planted into my heart. The slightest possibility of Suguru's interest sends me to the moon. I know I’m not the same girl I was when we last saw each other. So maybe, just maybe, this is a sign.

As I head towards the room, my steps feel lighter than they've been in a long time. For once in my life, I can finally hope for something more. I finally believe that I…my heart sinks as I reach the door. 

Blocking my path is a figure I desperately hoped to avoid—the infamous Satoru Gojo.

Chapter 2: Repulsive

Much like Suguru, Satoru’s build overpowers me. His arms rest on the edge of the doorframe and I can see the contours of his bicep peek through his shirt. I take in a sharp inhale and reluctantly step forward. Satoru will not, I repeat, not get the better of me today. I hesitate for a moment, locking my eyes with his.

He peeks out from the edge of his sunglasses, and the corners of his lips begin to curl. I watch as pieces of his platinum hair barely brush the top of his rims, while others just fall short of his eyes. It’s been years, but those striking pools of blue remain etched in my memory. Swirls of azure, navy and cobalt fill my vision, but I stop myself before my gaze begins to linger.

I attempt to slip past him but find myself with no clear escape. As I contemplate my next move, I mutter a greeting through gritted teeth, "Satoru."

His smirk grows into the devilish grin that haunted my past. "Hey there, Angel,” he purrs. “No hello? Or how have you been?" His tone takes on a playful note, laced with a hint of something else—something I can't quite decipher.

I try my best to let the moment pass, but I’ve let this go on for far too long. I’m done ignoring his comments. “You know I have a real name right?” I bite back.

“But why switch it up now? You’ve always been my little angel,” he teases mockingly. 

“And you’ve always been a pain in my ass,” I reply, my stare unwavering.

“She fights back,” his brow rises in shock. “I like this new version of you. Keep it up.” His grip on the doorframe loosens and he turns to make his way into the room. 

I let out a deep sigh, feeling the tension of my grip escape through my fingers. As I regain focus, I notice Satoru has turned back, his face mere inches from my ear. His voice is smooth, like silk across my skin as he whispers, “I can be a pain in a lot of other places, but I promise it’ll feel good.” 

My eyes widen as my pupils darken. My mouth runs dry as he chuckles his way to the edge of the room.

Memories of my high school days with Satoru flood back into my mind. His words cut through me, but in a way more akin to pleasure than pain. A mix of emotions overwhelm me, but I ultimately scowl at the sight of him. While Shoko and Suguru have helped me blossom, Satoru has always been the thorn in my side.

“Come on Suguru, are you really going to stay with her again?” Satoru asked.

“It’s okay, just go without me. I’ll go with you next time,” Suguru replies. His arm raises to scratch the back of his head.

This is the last festival of the season; there won't be another chance. “Please just go. I’ll be fi—,” I uttered.

“Well, enjoy your time with the little angel,” Satoru calls out as he continues walking away.

He makes his way out of our view, and I turn to Suguru, “Why do you even call him your best friend? He’s kind of a dick.”

Suguru laughs. “When you go through some of the stuff that we have, you’ll see that there’s a bond that goes deeper than blood. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but it’s not an excuse. Don’t worry. I can talk to him.”

I can’t stop myself from smiling with adoration.

I quickly find an empty seat in the orientation room, my mind still buzzing. The comfort and familiarity of the school are now tainted by the presence of someone I had hoped to forget. It was stupid of me to think Suguru and Satoru would drift apart after all these years. As I gather up my resolve to remain close with Suguru, I accept that their connection means my path with Satoru will cross more often than I would like.

✦✧✸✧✦

A full morning of orientation reduces my brain to mush. The anticipation builds and all I can pay attention to is the clock ticking away. Yaga drones on about teamwork, collaboration, and trust – unsurprising, considering his history mentoring Suguru and Satoru. If he survived that, I’m sure being the principal is a piece of cake.

As the clock finally strikes noon, I gather my belongings and head for the door.

“Ms. Ieiri—one moment please,” Yaga calls to me, stopping in my tracks. He assembles the group of new hires and hands each one a folded letter. “This is for the afternoon sessions. On this sheet you’ll find…”

His words trail off and I find myself glancing at the clock again, hoping that Suguru hasn’t been waiting too long. Once we’re dismissed, I rush towards the courtyard.

While my legs carry me on autopilot through the halls, I take a moment to examine the letter. The paper feels coarse, the creases are weighted with importance, yet the ink is delicately placed. The overwhelming amount of information makes it clear that I'll have to review it once lunch is over. I scan the letter to find main items scheduled for the afternoon:

1pm: Mentor Session (Room 2-C)

2pm: Lesson Planning (Room 1-B)

3pm: Team Review (Room 1-B)

Seems simple enough. I approach the stairs leading to the courtyard, when my eyes catch the small section at the end of the letter:

Mentor Assignment: …

As I hurry, I fail to notice the uneven step at the halfway mark. My foot catches the edge and suddenly, I’m airborne. I feel the letter escape my fingertips. My heart leaps into my throat and the world starts to blur.

I reach for the railing, but my grasp barely holds. In the following moments, I find myself colliding with a figure. His hold is strong, bringing me comfort. I feel his fingers slowly cup my arms—they’re soft, tender, holding me with care. 

“Easy there,” he rumbles. “I got you,” his voice is low and radiates through my core. Suguru’s eyes lock onto mine and I feel the heat beginning to smolder. “I got you.” His words bounce through my head.

“Suguru. Sorry… I—” The words are impossible to make out.

“Don’t apologize,” Suguru smiles. “I like having you in my arms.” He adds a playful wink sending butterflies through my chest.

I hold his gaze and my body melts into his. Suguru and I have been close for years, but this time, it feels altered, deeper. It feels like the intensity of our connection is seeking something beyond friendship. We’re inches from each other and I wonder if he can hear my thoughts or feel my heart beat out of my chest. Time slows as I marvel at his smile. I let my mind wander just for a moment…

Suguru lowers, barely touching his lips against mine. He starts soft, planting kisses down my neck as he caresses my cheek. His touch trails to the rest of my body and delight surges within me. It's gentle, but I crave more. He bites my lip before slowly letting his tongue make his way inside my mouth.

Passion builds within me as one hand grips my hair and the other grabs my waist. When his fingers gently graze the small of my back, I writhe with pleasure, hoping he can’t feel the squeeze between my thighs. His taste is intoxicating—sending me into a fever that I can’t seem to break. 

I close my eyes and let his mouth take me.

“I’ve been waiting for you…” he breaks away to tell me. His voice is on the brink of losing control. “...for a very long ti—”

“Hello? Are you okay?” Suguru asks. My focus immediately returns. “I’ve been waiting for you, so I was heading back inside to make sure you were doing alright.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Yaga needed to give us this letter and—oh fuck. My letter.” 

He senses my worry and swoops me up in one solid motion, but I feel too weak to stand.

I turn to see that my letter has found its way in a puddle pooling at the edge of the steps. I rush down to grab it, but it’s already too late. While I can make out certain areas, the majority of it has smeared away. I bring my gaze towards bottom in hopes of making out some of the letters:

M..nt…. ….gnment: S…..u G…o

I pause—Suguru Geto. A knot hits my stomach and I’m waiting to identify whether this feeling is anxiety or joy.

I look up from the letter expectantly. “Suguru, my mentor… is this right?” I ask.

“Yeah, it is! It’s nice being paired with someone you know. It’ll be just like old times.” His words are the only confirmation I need.

✦✧✸✧✦

Although the years have passed, it feels like Suguru and I have never skipped a beat. I miss the way he talks, the way he laughs, the way a strand of hair always manages to fall even when it’s tied. I could spend hours looking into his eyes and hearing all of his adventures and how he’s mastered his curse techniques. 

The minutes go on and the end of our lunch hour approaches. Suguru frowns as he glances at his watch, and offers an apologetic smile. "I have to head out a bit early. Yaga needs some help before the mentor sessions start," he explains.

I nod understandingly, though I can't help but feel disappointed. "No problem, I’ll see you in a bit?"

He grins, those familiar eyes twinkling with warmth. "Definitely, I’ll see you later!" He gives me a hug and we part ways.

With a sway in my step, I find myself standing before the door of 2-C—but it’s locked. I scan the hallway to see if anyone can help, but there’s no one in sight. I grab my phone to text Suguru for help, but fate has other plans.

Before I can send the message, a familiar presence creeps up behind me. The weight of his aura envelops me. His body feels warm, yet somehow my blood runs cold. With a key in hand, he moves to unlock the door.

A gasp escapes my lips, and I feel the tension build around us. My heart races as I hear a voice, a soft whisper that ignites my soul.

"Hey there, angel," the voice purrs. "Were you looking for me?"

I let out a deep breath to release the fury that boiled inside of me. “As a matter of fact, no. I wasn’t looking for you… Satoru.”

Chapter 3: Reinforcements

It takes me a second, but it finally registers. The letter didn’t actually say Suguru Geto. It was supposed to say Satoru Gojo. Suguru’s voice rings though my head:

“Suguru, my mentor… is this right?” I try to recall. I guess I didn’t explicitly mention a name.

“Yeah, it is!” Damn it, why didn’t I say his name?

“It’s nice being paired with someone you know.” My body feels heavy as my soul fills with dread.

“It’ll be just like old times.” The world begins to spin around me.

I walk through the door without looking at Satoru and head straight for the windows on the other side of the room. The room itself is quite small, just large enough to fit a blackboard, a full teacher’s desk, and three smaller desks for the students. There’s a bit of extra room to spare, but none of it is enough to keep me away from Satoru.

In the reflection of the window, Satoru props himself against the larger desk, his long arms draped behind him. His smirk tells me he's completely at ease, as if he enjoys torturing me this way. “Not who you were expecting?”

I hold my response and continue staring out the window. I suspect he can read my discomfort.

His footsteps are quiet, but I feel them reverberate behind me. The air from the window feels cool, but it fades when his body radiates against mine. He leans down, bringing his hands around my sides. As he places them on the window sill, I can feel his face inch closer to mine. He’s too close for comfort but I can’t bring myself to push him away.

“With a bit more time, angel, you’ll see that I’m full of surprises.” I can feel the rumble in his throat as he speaks. “That is…if you’re willing to find out.”

My face turns hot and my thighs tighten. I may hate Satoru, but there’s something about his charm that feels irresistible. After years of dealing with him, I thought I’d get used to it. But this doesn’t feel like the same Satoru I used to know.

His arms are still placed on either side of me, but I swat him away, “Don’t you have better things to do than to tease me?” My brow rises. “Maybe… actually mentoring me?”

He lifts his arms in defense, “Hey angel, sorry if I’m coming on a little strong. I’m just having some fun.” He nudges my arm, and the force leaves me unsteady. “For old times’ sake.”

I roll my eyes and take a seat at one of the smaller desks.

“Plus, I’m not big on mentoring,” he adds. “Yaga has me doing this because I owe him for saving my ass on the last mission. Luckily he assigned me to you, and we both know you’re more than capable of doing this job without my help. It’s always been like that.”

“Oh how sweet. Is this your way of complimenting me?” I tease. He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t going to give in that easily.

“What do you mean? I always give you compliments.”

“Calling me angel doesn’t count,” I sneer.

“Would you like me to call you princess instead?” He curled into a self-assured smile.

I blush, trying to bite back a chuckle. I lied, this is the same old Satoru. “So are you going to keep making up names, or are you actually going to teach me something?”

He brings himself close, his face stopping just short of mine. “I can teach you a lot of things, angel.”

I let out a sigh, “I’m serious, Satoru.”

“Fine, if you insist.” My curiosity is piqued as he props himself up and heads for the blackboard. 

“Lesson number one: If you ever want me, don’t want me,” he smirked.

I drop my shoulders and let out a sigh, but he continues.

“I’m serious! Lesson number two: If you ever need me…”

I finish his sentence, “Don’t need you?” His smile confirms my thoughts. “What’s number 3, Gojo-senpai?” My eyes plead as I pout in an attempt to mock him.

He seems uneasy. “Don’t do that,” he quickly snaps back, and I straighten up. “And now, lesson number three, the most important one: If you ever need my help, learn how to help yourself first.”

With a hint of sarcasm, I reply, “Wow, what a wonderful lesson. I’ve learned so much.” I gather my belongings and prepare to leave. “I think I'll just ask Yaga to assign me to someone else.”

He steps closer, blocking my path before I can fully rise from my seat. "No, wait. Don't do that,” he implores, his gaze earnest. “Can you stick it out for a little while? Just until this mentorship period ends. I need to get through these two weeks so Yaga won't make me do this again next year.”

I force my way up and scoff in his face, “Why on earth would I do that? What the hell have you done in these last few hours or even the last ten years that would make me put in a good word for you?” My volume increases. “You constantly tease me, you’ve never helped me, and—”

“I can hook you up with Suguru,” he murmurs.

“Excuse me?” My voice remains elevated from the anger.

“I can hook you up with Suguru,” he repeats firmly.

“Oh,” I pause as my voice settles. “Why would you do that?”

“For someone so smart, you ask the silliest things. It’s obvious you like him, angel.” 

My cheeks heat, feeling exposed and vulnerable under his penetrating gaze.

“It’s been obvious…for years—at least to me,” his voice softens. "And I promise, if you put in a good word for me, I'll help you with Suguru. No tricks, no games. Do we have a deal?" He extends his hand, waiting for my response.

This deal seems too good to be true. I try to figure out what the catch is, but nothing comes to mind. Unlike before, his gaze feels genuine and his smile seems sincere. I take a deep breath, preparing for a leap of faith. For the first time in my life, I guess I’m going to have to trust Satoru.

I reach for his hand, allowing a confident smile to grace my lips. “Deal.”

✦✧✸✧✦

Although this is not how I pictured my first couple of weeks back in Tokyo, this alliance isn’t as terrible as I thought. At the end of our work days, Satoru and I hang back in Room 2-C for our “mentoring” sessions. We spend 1% of the sessions on actual work, and the other 99% on dating. I tell him that it’s been a while since I’ve dated, and Satoru jumps at the opportunity to refresh me on the art of flirting.

 "Alright angel—you’ve known Suguru for a while, but I’m guessing like you only ever interact with him as a friend. Try starting…” he picks up his hand to graze the side of my arm, fingers lightly dragging towards my wrist.  “...with light touches. Make sure you maintain eye contact and smile genuinely." His voice is velvet and slow.

A shiver runs through me, and my mouth goes dry. I clear my throat. "Light touches, like this?" I laugh hesitantly. I try to mimic his advice, but it’s nowhere near as gentle as his.

Satoru chuckles. "Close, but you’re too tense. Just relax a little bit."

I soften my touch and continue to brush my fingers up his arm. As I slowly pull him towards me, our eyes lock and I’m immediately mesmerized. There’s a flutter in my core and it turns into desire. There’s an ache between my thighs, and moisture begins to form.

“That’s it,” he purrs as he leans towards me. “Just like that.” The pull of his voice is a magnet that continues to bring me closer. My heart races while the quickness in my breath trails slowly behind.

I close my eyes and let my cravings take control.

Satoru rests his thumb on the edge of my lip while the rest curl under my chin. He tilts my head and slowly whispers, “And that is exactly what you should do…” His voice perks back up to his normal tone. “...when you’re flirting with Suguru,” he smiles.

I shoot my eyes open and straighten up. What the hell was I thinking? Was I seriously trying to kiss Satoru? I mean, it wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Wait…no, stop that. Something must be wrong, my wires are completely crossed. I shake it off to rid myself of the residual shame.

Shoko braided my hair like she’s done a million times before. “Hey, who do you think is cuter, Suguru or Satoru?” she posed out of curiosity.

“Hmm, that’s so hard. You know they're both hot.” I laughed. “If we’re going purely off of looks, probably Satoru. Sometimes I hate him, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t cute. I think it’s the eyes.” 

“Yeah,” she replies with a hint of dejection in her voice. “I think so too.” I knew what was coming, but I could tell she had trouble getting it out. “Would you be mad if I asked him out?”

I pulled away for just a moment, “Oh my god, go ahead! Don’t worry about me. Suguru is still cute, plus he’s way nicer to me anyways.”

She paused for a moment, then threw her arms into a hug, “You’re the best.”

I smiled back and returned her embrace. “Okay, now finish doing my hair.”

✦✧✸✧✦

During these last two weeks the only times I see Suguru are during our lunch breaks. His schedule is hectic, but I can see that he makes the time for me—even though I know he doesn’t have any. I use these moments to practice some of the things I’ve learned from Satoru. Light touch, eye contact, genuine smiles.

I’ve touched Suguru’s arm, stared into his eyes, and laughed at his jokes many times before, but it was never like this. This time, all of my actions are bold, assertive, and confident. It’s no surprise that Satoru is a master of charm, but I didn’t expect him to be a decent teacher as well. Come Monday, he’ll be happy to know that Yaga will get glowing reviews for his mentorship.

For today’s lunch, Suguru and I are sitting on the courtyard steps, inches away from where he caught me just two weeks before. He has a look on his face that I haven’t seen before. I can tell something is on his mind by the way his brow furrows and his smile drops.

“Hey, what’s up?” I ask.

“I was—” he pauses, then retracts. “Nevermind, it’s nothing.”

“Come on, Suguru. You can tell me,” I place my hand on top of his.

He smiles, and I can tell my assurance has calmed him down. “I just found out that I’m leaving for a mission next week, and I won’t be back for a few days.”

“Oh,” I reply, a pang of disappointment lingers in my tone.

“I was wondering…” he starts. “Did you maybe want to hang out or something before I leave?” A nervous grin crosses his face before he adds, “Like outside of work?”

I perk up at his proposal. “Of course! I would love that. When were you thinking?”

“I know it’s last minute, but maybe… tomorrow night? It’s okay if you’re bu—”

Cut him off before he has the chance to ramble. I reply with, “I would love to.”

Our lunch continues and the conversation shifts between current events, life updates and playful banter. I learn that Suguru still prefers staying in over going out, he’s got a new obsession with cooking, and his hair care routine is a lot more involved than I thought. As he speaks, I can’t help but admire him and the person he’s become.

When we prepare to part ways, Suguru confirms our plans for the weekend, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow? Meet at my place around 7?” Grinning as he inputs his address into my phone.

“I’ll see you there,” I return a smile and hug him before I leave. The feeling of his touch is perfect.

Chapter 4: Reckless

The workday ends and I make my way to the usual room for my last mentoring session with Satoru. As I walk in, he notices the stupid grin plastered on my face. “You look a little chipper today, angel. What’s up? Excited that you’re no longer forced to spend with me?”

“Well, yes,” I laugh. “But also… Suguru asked me to hang out tomorrow tonight. I’m going to meet him at his place,” I fight to contain my excitement.

Satoru’s brow lifts with intrigue, “If you wanted an invite to come over, you could’ve just asked me.”

Confusion clouds my brain. “Excuse me?” I ask.

“He didn’t tell you we were roommates?”

The clouds dissipate when I realize what’s going on. “No he didn’t. I guess it makes sense though.” The thought of Satoru joining in on our date fills me with unease. “You won’t be there right?” I clarify.

“You can relax, I’m meeting up with someone too. No need to worry about me barging in on whatever “activities” you two plan on doing,” air quoting as he takes a seat at the desk in front.

“Satoru, stop. You don’t even know if that’s gonna happen,” I argue.

“You’ve spent ten years drooling over this man, and you finally get a chance to spend some time with him in his apartment…alone.” he starts. “I don’t know about you, angel, but that sounds like a recipe for sex to me.” He leans back towards the blackboard and places his arms behind his head. A smug look sweeps his face.

“Well, yeah I guess… but it’s more so…” I hesitate, struggling to find the words to say. The thought of Suguru and I being intimate has always crossed my mind, but I can't believe it might actually happen.

“Oh I get it… There’s no reason to be nervous. Sex is sex,” he interjects. “Plus, if he’s the one who initiated the date, I’m sure he’ll enjoy whatever happens, sex or no sex.”

He makes a good point, but I still feel unsure. Before I have the chance to stop myself, I blurt out, “Do you know what he’s into…like when it comes to sex? Do guys even talk about that stuff to each other?” The regret immediately slips through my lips.

Satoru gets up from his seat and brings his hands to my shoulders—a gesture of comfort I’ve never seen from him before. “He’s my best friend, I know everything about him,” he assures me. “Trust me, you’ll be fine.”

“Can you just tell me? Please?” I playfully beg, placing my hands on top of his.

Something about my question changes his demeanor, like he’s been waiting for it all along. The air shifts and suddenly I feel a rush of heat. Satoru drops one of his hands while the other drags across my chest. He begins to circle me, walking slowly, like a lion with its prey. In a situation like this, his towering presence would normally intimidate me, but something this feels different. I'm not feeling fear; instead I feel secure, fascinated, and curious about what lies ahead.

He makes his way behind me and I can feel him lower his head towards mine. “I can tell you…” he whispers, grabbing my waist and pulling me closer. “But do you want me to show you instead?” His words send shivers to my spine. 

He retrieves something from his pocket and places it into my hand. It’s a long piece of fabric, similar to the one he uses to wrap his eyes. My mind spins—stuck between the logic in my head and the cravings of my body. I hesitate for a moment, but the weight of my desire defeats me. “Yes. Please,” I say softly, as I wrap the cloth around my eyes.

“Perfect.” He ties the back securely, and I feel his touch tilt my head toward him.

I let out a breath and part my lips. Our lips touch, locking just for a moment before he briefly pulls away.

“I think for your benefit, and definitely mine, I’m going to keep my limitless on. That way it’s purely informational and you won’t feel a thing,” he says.

And just like that, an invisible barrier forms between us. While his touch is subdued, I still feel the heat hovering between us. The closer I try to get to him, the more I feel his body vibrate against mine—like magnets trying to repel. Damn it, Satoru. He might not feel a thing, but I… I still feel everything.

In my mind, I do my best to recall every part of Suguru from memory. I try seeing his face and emulating his touch. As the pieces of Suguru form, a clear image of him floods my brain.

I can feel his touch as Satoru moves up from my waist and beneath the hem of my shirt. He continues up to cup my breast and I can sense his kisses on my neck. They’re soft and muted, but the sensation still gives me chills. His breath is hot as his mouth works his way up to nibble my ear. I can feel his throat rumble when Satoru continues his lesson, “Do you want to know what Suguru is like?”

I nod. In my mind, Suguru’s dark eyes ease their way shut as he takes in my scent. His strands of hair brush against my shoulder as he continues to plant kisses down my neck.  

“Suguru is a lover—always takes care of his women,” Satoru purrs as he rubs his thumb over my breast. The friction against my nipple sends a jolt of euphoria through my chest. “Do you want to see how he’ll take care of you?” he asks.

My body tenses and I feel a rush of liquid between my thighs. I roll my head back onto his shoulder and hum with pleasure. My breath is labored, I can barely speak. “Show me,” I manage to let out.

“Well to start, he’d make sure your lips never go hungry.” Satoru slowly turns me around while his kisses move to my lips. His lips are soft, smooth as he takes me in.

The intensity rises as his kisses become needy. Using his hands to grip my ass, he leans me on the edge of the desk behind me. Shock fills my body and I can feel his tongue finding its way inside my mouth. Waves of his cursed energy flow through me. It’s powerful—commanding my fingers to lock into his hair. I pull him closer, imagining Suguru's weight crashing into me.

As the ache between my legs intensifies I ask, “What else would he do?”

“He’d work his way up your leg… past your skirt…” he slowly whispers. “And find your clit. Just to make sure she’s happy too.” His fingers travel to my panties, stopping just above my slit. He uses thumb to rub the cloth, and the trembles of his limitless cause me to moan. I roll back and forth, grinding against his hand, desperate for more. My moans are endless and slowly amplify every time the pressure increases.

When he realizes I’m enjoying myself, he runs his fingers along the edge of my panties. I whimper, wondering when he can put an end to this torture. I crave him so badly, I crave the feeling of him inside me—anything to help me find release. He finally gives in and slides my underwear to the side. As his touch grazes against my folds, I picture how good it would feel to have Suguru’s large hands cupping my center.

Satoru picks up on my thoughts and continues feeding my fantasy, “While he teases your pussy, Suguru would tell you that you’re already soaking wet…” The thought has me dripping more liquid onto his fingers. I feel his mouth curl into a smile and he whispers, “...but we’re only getting started.”

His fingers thrust inside me and I can feel the magnitude of his hands as my walls tighten around him. The thrill from his fingers barreling into me stun every inch of my body. I can feel my thighs clenching on the brink of release. His fingers find the sensitive spot within my walls and his mouth claims every spot on my body. His kisses become ravenous, like he can’t get enough. The more he devours me, the more he leaves me breathless.

I can hear him groan in delight and I notice the way his bulge presses against me through his pants. The desperation only makes him harder.

As the intensity grows, I cry for more. “Oh Suguru, just like that.”

“Do you like that, angel?” His pace remains steady as the sensation of cursed energy collects into his fingers. They continue to push against the insides of my center until I can’t take it anymore. The rhythmic motion leaves me breathless and I feel my body racing to its peak.

“Ugh, Suguru, fuck…that feels—”

“Does he make you feel good?” His voice feels heavy, like a low growl.

“Y—, ugh, ye—” I can’t form words through the pounding of his hand. He’s rapidly sending me to the edge and I’m ready to fall. “Suguru, you’re going to make me come.”

“Yes, angel.” Satoru says, before planting his lips onto mine. “Come for him.” 

Those words are enough to break me. The orgasm flows through my body and I feel myself beat around his fingers. His pace slows, but the sensual touch only brings more gratification. The thought of Suguru sending me into ecstasy leaves my body light, and my mind clear. The waves slowly subside and I feel myself resurrect. 

My hands head for the wrap on my eyes, but I hear Satoru whisper, “We’re not done yet, angel.”

I follow his lead and let the rumble of his voice bring me back into my dreams.

“Did you think Suguru would stop there?” he teases. “If there’s anyone he’d take special care of, it would be you.”

I feel his fingers slide out of me and I hear him lick the tips. “You taste so good.”

The words release a flutter in my core. I’m immediately enraptured and can’t help but crave more.

“Suguru would love this,” he starts. “Would you let him taste you too?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

I imagine Suguru’s strength as his hands cup my waist and he lifts me up on the desk. When I lean back, I feel him lift my shirt, exposing my breasts. “You’re so god damn beautiful.” His tongue licks my nipple before fully taking it into his mouth, giving it a playful tug.

“Please, I want you to taste me,” I plead. Liquid gushes out of me, giving him a good dose to start.

“As you wish, angel.” He bends down to hover his mouth over my center. I feel him linger before he adds, “Do you know what else Suguru likes to do?”

“Tell me,” I whisper.

“He likes making sure your pussy never goes dry,” he growls, letting his mouth devour my clit. The vibrations from his limitless amplify the sensation, and I’m on the verge of losing control. 

My body goes numb as his words echo through my head. He likes making sure your pussy never goes dry. I let out a moan, but it feels more like a cry. I completely unravel, feeling the tides of my orgasm come back to shore.

“Oh my god, Suguru. That feels so good. Don’t stop,” I cry.

As he continues to glide over me, I throw my head back and writhe in pleasure. His tongue goes up and down my center in a harmonious rhythm, and I’m so close to feeling ecstasy. His mouth on my lips may have felt needy, but his mouth on my pussy feels absolutely desperate. The ripples of his limitless accompany the motions and bring me to my limit. As he plants his hands on my thighs, I immediately crumble.

I melt into my orgasm as my legs tense up around him, squeezing him towards me. I picture Suguru’s hands gripping my thighs while he moans back in delight. My breath is quick, my heartbeat is unsteady. The muscles inside me contract and pulsate all over his tongue. He has me slick and he licks up every bit of the liquid that trickled from me.

“And that, my little angel… is a little taste of what you can expect from Suguru Geto,” Satoru chuckles.

I relax my legs and I feel one last kiss grace my center. I lay for a moment, feeling both lifeless, yet satiated. The thought of Suguru between my thighs still lingers in my mind.

“That was amazing, Suguru,” I breathed quietly.

As I sit up, my head is in a fog. I feel my brain spin for a moment. What just happened? Did I just have a wet dream about Suguru? Wait, no. Was it Satoru? It takes me a minute to recollect myself. Although I could see Suguru vividly in my mind, I remember that he wasn’t the person in the room. Anxiety surges throughout my body when I’m faced with the reality of what occurred.

I hear the door click, and rush to take off the wrap around my eyes. “Satoru, can we ta—”

To my dismay, there is no one else in the room. I see the blackboard behind me, the desk that seats me, three smaller desks in front of me, but Satoru is nowhere to be found.

Read Part 2 Here!

[yazmarina]

backburner

for hit play, a drabble event.

—"cause maybe you'll finally choose me after you've had more time?" (backburner by niki)

pepe marti (f2) x gn!reader

warnings/notes: mild angst, university au, ollie is the ex-boyfriend, pepe is the rebound

a/n: i'm back! i've healed enough hopefully to come back to writing <3

You don't mean to do this to him.

You know he deserves better and that no amount of empty promises from you would truly appease him. You told him you weren't ready and that you just needed a warm body to sleep next to at night. Not your words, exactly, but he understood.

It never got easier, the guilt impossibly heavier every time you tell him you need him. But he's there and he's smiling, telling you it's okay and that he's happy to be whatever you need him to be.

Pepe tucks some of your hair behind your ear, laying a tender hand against your cheek.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Pepe asks, running his thumb gently across the skin of your face, just below your eye. You're not crying, at least not yet, but Pepe had been there for nearly all your sobbing fits that it's just instinct for him at this point. To wipe away your tears, to make sure you're okay.

You shrug. "There's nothing to talk about. Just had a bad day."

Pepe nods, silently pulling you into a hug. You inhale his scent, boyish and mixed with the laundry detergent he and his roommate share on laundry days. His sheets smell like it, too. You know the smell well enough, having burrowed under Pepe's blanket nearly every night since you and your ex broke up.

"Did you see him today?" Pepe asks, pulling you further into the room, stopping only to maneuver you down onto his bed.

"Of course, I did. We have the same major and all the same classes," you say rather despondently.

You peer up at Pepe who's still standing, towering over you now that you're seated on his plush mattress. He smiles again, apologetic. Maybe he's sorry for you. Maybe he's sorry for himself.

"Do you wanna have dinner?" You ask, threading your fingers between Pepe's. You see his face light up and it almost hurts you, the way he doesn't know.

He doesn't know that you're only asking because you overheard Ollie tell Kimi that he'll be at that diner just outside campus with a couple of other friends. He doesn't know that the reason why you're so upset is because Ollie had his arm around another one of your classmates, a pretty blonde who you knew had a thing for your now ex-boyfriend ever since orientation days.

The words spring out of you before you can stop them.

"I was thinking we could get milkshakes at that diner just outside of campus," you suggest, pulling Pepe down to sit beside you.

He, of course, obliges. He always does. Pepe somehow doesn't know how or when to say no to you.

"Sure," Pepe easily agrees. He leans in and plants a soft kiss on your lips. You let out a sigh, a half giggle, mouth spreading into a grin when you feel him gently nudge you up the bed.

You let yourself get lost in his touch for a while, arms limp as he tugs your shirt off, your own fingers tracing the outlines of his bare chest after he tosses his sweater to the other side of the room. He's kissing down your neck now, and it feels good, feels right.

Your eyes close and suddenly, it's not Pepe who you're seeing. His tan skin is replaced with something fairer, lighter freckles smattered against his nose, almost red. His hair is curly and his accent is tinged with the barest of Italian inflection.

Ollie.

Your eyes fly open and you feel your body still, heart hammering against your chest. Pepe must feel the rigid reluctance from you as he stops, hand halfway behind your back, reaching for the clasp of your bra.

"You still with me?" Pepe asks, voice quiet. He pulls back to study your face, big brown eyes almost pleading as he looks at you.

Your heart rate evens out and you take a few seconds to look back at the face staring down at you.

Pepe.

Pepe is with you at this moment. His skin pressed against yours. His biceps shifting beneath your hands. It's Pepe that holds you now. Even if it's just for the rest of the night. Until you've decided you've had enough and you'd rather go back to stalking your ex's socials.

"Yeah," you whisper, cradling one side of Pepe's face. He leans against your palm, eyes fluttering shut as he revels in your touch.

"Good," Pepe mumbles back.

[teddiee]

Into Each Life: Chapter 12

Summary:

“Tony,” Bucky says carefully.

Tony doesn’t answer immediately, too busy trying to breathe through the sudden, searing cramp in his lower abdomen. The sharp tang of his own scent—sweet and ripe—tickles his nose, and the realization hits him like a freight train.

“Oh, no,” Tony moans.

Words: 13,933

Explicit Content: 18+

The world outside the window is still wrapped in the deep indigo of pre-dawn when Tony wakes.

He stirs. His lashes flutter as he blinks blearily, his vision hazy from sleep. His mind is foggy—caught in the delicate space between sleep and wakefulness—but it takes two slow, orienting breaths to realize his cheek is pressed against the warm, golden plane of Bucky’s bare stomach.

Tony feels like he’s moving through molasses, his limbs sluggish and weighted. Even the simple act of opening his eyes feels like a monumental feat until the faint tick of the clock on the bedside table anchors him in the present.

5:54 a.m.

He takes a brief, necessary moment to acclimate to his surroundings.

A thin blanket is pushed low on his hips, his own chest bare and his skin warm. His scent lingers in the sheets, stronger in places where he and Bucky had tangled together during the night—reminders of the hours that passed in a blur of sweat, whispered promises, and Bucky’s soothing, hypnotizing drawl.

It’s like a thunderclap in his chest. The memory of it rushes in with a startling clarity that makes his breath hitch.

The hazy fragments of the night stitch themselves together—the way Bucky had touched him, the way his hands had soothed and coaxed and held.

Color floods Tony’s cheeks as he remembers how he’d melted into Bucky’s touch. How he had whimpered and begged in a way that felt both alien and horrifically inevitable.

The fragmented flashes of memory send his heart pounding.

The sound of his own voice, desperate and needy, crying out for Bucky; the feel of Bucky’s hands steadying his hips, guiding him through the waves of intensity; the rasp of Bucky’s voice murmuring in his ear, “You’re so good for me, Tony. So perfect.”

He cuts the traitorous thought off with a sharp inhale, clenching his teeth on his bottom lip to steady himself and suppress the strangled, muffled groan that rises in his chest.

So much for remaining calm, cool, and collected.

Tony barely suppresses a flinch as Bucky stirs beneath him. The Alpha’s hand slides up from his bare back, fingers curling into the mussed strands of Tony’s hair. The touch is slow, almost absent-minded, sending an involuntary shudder down Tony’s spine.

“You’re thinkin’ too hard,” Bucky murmurs, words rough with sleep. His eyes are still closed. When Tony blinks up at him, his lips quirk faintly like he’s caught Tony in the middle of something. “I can hear you from here.”

Tony freezes, his face burning hot, though he doesn’t know whether it’s from embarrassment or the warmth blooming low in his stomach.

“I’m not—” he starts, his voice cracking awkwardly—Christ—but Bucky cuts him off with a soft hum, his fingers working gently through Tony’s disheveled locks.

“Sure you’re not,” Bucky drawls, his tone teasing but warm, a quiet rumble that seems to settle right under Tony’s skin. His hand pauses to scratch lightly at Tony’s scalp, the lazy rhythm as soothing as it is disarming. “You always get that little crease right here—” His thumb grazes Tony’s forehead, just above his brow. “—when your brain’s spinnin’ too fast. Relax, sweetheart. Stop panicking. You don’t gotta figure it all out right now.”

“I’m not panicking,” Tony says stupidly, though Bucky's solid, delectable torso muffles his words. The resulting small puffs of air cause the Alpha’s abdominal muscles to jump and twitch beneath him.

Bucky doesn’t push, just keeps threading his fingers through Tony’s hair like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he’s not purposefully lulling Tony back into a soft, pliant headspace. “You don’t have to think so hard about last night, either,” he says after a beat, softer now, almost raspy. “We were good, weren’t we? You and me? That’s all that matters.”

Tony’s mind feels woolly, slow to piece itself together, and his body aches faintly in the way it always does at the tail end of his heat. He doesn’t answer, not right away, his chest tight with the weight of his chaotic, spiraling thoughts. He rests against the smooth expanse of Bucky’s bare skin, his cheek pressed close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of the Alpha’s breathing.

“Yeah, we were good,” Tony says quietly.

His voice is small and still raspy from sleep, but there’s a lingering edge to it that betrays his unease.

Even now, when Bucky’s hands are gentle and unhurried. Even now, when everything is quiet and safe, and the thought of what happened still twists his gut in a way he can’t quite shake off.

Bucky’s hand drifts from Tony’s hair, fingertips trailing lightly down his neck to rest at the base of his skull.

The contact is gentle, deliberate, like Bucky’s trying to coax him into something, though Tony’s sluggish brain hasn’t quite figured out what.

Either way, it’s grounding. Like always.

Tony sinks into the steady warmth of Bucky’s hand on the back of his neck, and he feels a jolt of tension dissipate as Bucky’s thumb starts to massage small circles there, just above his shoulder blades. He swallows down his moan.

Tony doesn’t know how long he stays there, pressed against Bucky’s body, but it feels like a small eternity. His heart is still racing, his body a live wire, and he’s hyper-aware of every shift of muscle beneath him.

But then Bucky’s hand slides up and down his back, broad and sure, his thumb brushing in soothing arcs along Tony’s spine.

“You know,” Bucky says, low and easy, “if you keep fidgetin’ like that, a fella’s gonna get the wrong idea.”

Tony lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a groan and a strangled laugh, burying his face into Bucky’s toned stomach. “Don’t encourage me,” he mumbles.

“Encouragin’ you is my favorite thing,” Bucky counters smoothly. His fingers drift back to Tony’s neck, tracing idle patterns that somehow make Tony feel lightheaded and more flustered all at once.

Bucky’s still in his underwear. Tony is too, if the familiar touch of damp fabric clinging to his thighs is any indication. The thin white cotton of Bucky’s boxers does little to conceal his erection—not having softened once since dragging a heat-fueled Tony into his bedroom after supper last night.

Tony peers down at the tented fabric—erect, imposing, a small wet patch where the tip strains against cotton—and conspicuously squirms under the blanket. He licks his lips and rubs his own thighs together.

That warm, tight feeling still lingers. Unmistakable as it pulses low in his belly,

Sure, it’s noticeably muted compared to the inferno that had consumed him just days ago. His skin doesn’t feel like it’s on fire, and he’s not choking on the overwhelming sweetness of his own scent. This isn’t the all-consuming demand for an Alpha’s presence that had left him clinging to his bed sheets, dizzy and desperate.

But still, it’s heightened in a way that makes his breath hitch and his pulse stutter. There’s a new edge to his constant state of fluctuating arousal—something sharper, more focused.

It’s not just his heat. It’s heat and Bucky.

A spark in his veins that only exists after experiencing the press of strong hands against his hips. After shuddering under the low rasp of Bucky’s voice, coaxing his body through mind-blowing relief at an Alpha’s hands for the very first time.

Tony's chest hitches slightly, the flutter in his belly spreading outward, warmth pooling deep in his core. It’s a slow flare, but it’s there, building as Bucky’s fingers continue to work at the sensitive spot on the back of his neck, sending electricity down his spine.

He shifts slightly, trying to ease the ache blooming low in his stomach, and the friction sends a small, unbidden whine tumbling from his lips. He swallows hard, feeling his flush creep down his neck, his body betraying him in the most inconvenient fucking way possible.

He was just starting to find a sliver of calm, too, but his blood spikes and reacts to Bucky’s touch like it’s still in the crux of his heat. To his scent, thick and earthy in the air around them; to his voice, still rough with sleep as it curls into Tony’s ear; to the way his hands never stop their soothing rhythm, even though Tony knows he can feel the minute shift in pressure as Tony’s scent swells.

Bucky stiffens beneath him, the hand in Tony’s hair faltering for the briefest second before resuming its slow, soothing rhythm.

“Tony,” Bucky says carefully.

Tony doesn’t answer immediately, too busy trying to breathe through the sudden, searing cramp in his lower abdomen. The sharp tang of his own scent—sweet and ripe—tickles his nose, and the realization hits him like a freight train.

“Oh, no,” Tony moans.

Bucky hums low in his throat—a sound that might have been reassurance if it weren’t for the way his other hand comes to rest on Tony’s lower back, fingers flexing slightly. Like he’s grounding himself as much as Tony.

“You still feeling it?” Bucky asks gently. His own scent deepens. Cedar and smoke, rich and heady, curling around Tony like a protective cocoon.

Tony shakes his head against Bucky’s abdomen, his breath hitching as another wave of heat surges through him, leaving his skin flushed and damp. “It’s… manageable,” he grits through his teeth, though the way he squirms against Bucky betrays the truth.

Bucky lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle. “It’s got a funny way of sneakin’ back up on you.” His thumb on Tony’s spine moves in slow, grounding circles. “You’re okay, Tony. I’ve got you.”

The Alpha’s scent has sharpened, his body impossibly warm beneath Tony’s, and there’s a tension in his muscles now. Coiled and ready.

But he doesn’t move, doesn’t press, just keeps stroking Tony’s skin like he’s got all the time in the world.

“You with me?” Bucky asks quietly. The question is a low rumble, reverberating in his stomach and vibrating against Tony’s temple.

Tony nods jerkily, though he doesn’t trust himself to speak.

He’s with Bucky. He hasn’t stopped being with Bucky since last night, when he sobbed and spilled into the Alpha’s fist.

Historically, Tony has coaxed himself to a—frankly countless—number of orgasms.

Since presenting at sixteen, he’s undergone a handful of heats. Entirely alone, except for the company of his own hand. Enough to get the job done, maybe, but never enough to fully extinguish the flames licking at his veins. Never enough to dull the throbbing, empty ache between his legs. Never enough to satisfy his body’s biological urge to bask in Alpha pheromones and succumb.

So after years of unfulfilling self-gratification, Bucky’s hand on his dick felt almost synonymous with the closest thing Tony had ever experienced to a religious experience.

Warm. Tight. The Alpha’s scent glands occasionally brushing against the sensitive underside of delicate skin. Tony’s face pressed to his neck, gulping down lungfuls of a scent tailor-made to light up his nerve endings.

Bucky’s molten praises caressing his ear. His own stiff, clothed, pulsing erection pushing against the bare skin of Tony’s thigh.

It wasn’t sex, not fully. It wasn’t the stretch of a knot in his ass; it wasn’t a complete claiming where his body ached for it most. But it was enough.

Enough to convince his body that he was being cared for, that he was being guided through his hormonal frenzy by an Alpha.

You know. Finally.

Tony doesn’t remember much after the first orgasm. The immediate, toe-curling relief had been staggering—almost debilitating—and the quick surge of hormones that flooded his body had rendered him useless.

He can vaguely recall fragments of Bucky’s fingers gliding through his hair. Soft, soothing praise whispered against his temple. Gentle hands coaxing between his legs with a warm washcloth.

He remembers being poured into Bucky’s bed, drifting into a deep and immediate sleep. And Bucky joining him later—damp from his shower, strong arms pulling Tony back against his bare chest and curling around him. Nosing at his scent gland.

He was satisfied. Satiated. Blissful.

Until he wasn’t.

Until he awoke a few short hours later to a bedroom cloaked in darkness, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting soft silver streaks across the walls. Eyes flying open, lungs hitching sharply as the heat in his body clawed its way to the surface. Sharp and pulsing.

12:14 A.M.

Tony can’t stop the small, choked whimper that escapes his throat as he pushes himself up on his elbows. His skin is feverish, a sheen of sweat prickling along his brow, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He curls in on himself, trying to ride out the sudden wave of tremors coursing through his veins, but the ache—the need—is sharp. It gnaws at him from the inside out.

His skin feels too tight, his limbs heavy and uncoordinated as he rotates against Bucky’s chest. He moans—a strangled, needy sound that rushes out of his throat as he buries his face against the Alpha’s skin, desperate for the comfort of his scent.

“Tony?”

Bucky’s voice is low, thick with sleep, but instantly alert. His hand finds Tony’s neck, warm and steady, its weight grounding in a way that cuts through the worst of the haze.“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Tony quivers under the gentle press of Bucky’s palm, his throat too tight to answer. He tries to take a deep breath, but it breaks halfway through, trembling.

“’M fine,” he croaks.

Bucky huffs. “Yeah, and I’m the Pope.”

He slides closer. The mattress dips under his weight and a second hand joins the first, this one grabbing Tony’s hip. Bucky’s thumb brushes against his skin in soothing arcs, his touch careful, deliberate. He pulls Tony closer into his neck, coaxing the Omega to breathe in where Bucky’s scent bleeds strong.“You’re burnin’ up again.”

Tony nods jerkily, his eyes squeezing shut as he wills his body to calm down. “I—I don’t know why it’s worse now,” he mumbles. “It was getting better, wasn’t it? Thought it was over.”

Bucky laughs into his hair. “It’s just a spike. Bound to happen. Your body’s still sorting itself out. Doesn’t mean anything’s wrong.”

“I didn’t want t’wake you,” Tony slurs. Still, he clings tighter to Bucky. His hips shift instinctively, chasing relief he can’t name. Slick leaks into his clean underwear. “Hurts.”

That makes Bucky’s hand pause, his fingers pressing into Tony’s hip just firm enough to draw his attention. “Yeah,” he drawls, rich and warm, “because it’s such a chore, takin’ care of you.”

Tony doesn’t know what he needs. His dick throbs, and the pressure in his stomach coils tight. Clenching and unclenching.

But Bucky does.

“You’re okay,” Bucky coos. He shifts them, suddenly. Kicks the blanket off their legs. Pulls Tony up by his armpits until he’s seated between Bucky’s thighs, his back flush with Bucky’s chest. The Alpha leans against the headboard and spreads Tony’s knees with his own. Tony shudders, legs parting like water, arching into Bucky’s hold. “I’ve got you. Sweet boy, I’ve got you.”

Tony melts back against him, his head lolling onto Bucky’s shoulder. Every nerve in his body feels frayed, exposed, and he can’t help the way his hips shift, seeking relief from the ache that’s consuming him. Bucky’s cock is hard against his back, straining against the fabric of his boxers, and the Alpha hisses when Tony pushes against it. His hands drop to grip Tony’s waist, steadying him.

“Bucky,” he whines. His hands grip weakly at Bucky’s thighs, trying to hold onto something solid. “I— I don’t—” The words stick in his throat, his mind too foggy to string them together.

Bucky’s arm lifts to wrap securely around Tony’s shoulders, his chest warm and solid against Tony’s back. His other hand grazes the bare skin of Tony’s thigh.“You don’t have to know, sweetheart,” he says, raspy. “That’s what I’m here for. Let me do the thinkin’ for you.”

The scent of Bucky is everywhere now, heavy and potent, and Tony can’t breathe without it, can’t think past the burn building deep in his gut.

And then Bucky’s hand skims past his stomach and finally dips past the waistband of his briefs.

“God, Tony,” Bucky chokes, his voice thick with approval as he feels the wetness gathering at the inside of Tony’s thighs. His fingertips glide over the slickness, and Tony shakes, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot through him at the light touch to such a sensitive spot.

Bucky’s breath hitches, and Tony can feel the low growl in his chest, the shift in his scent deepening. Pine and smoke fill the air, mingling with the sharp sweetness of Tony’s own, creating a heady, intoxicating blend. Bucky can’t help himself. “You’re so wet for me, baby. So fucking perfect.” His voice is rough, hungry, and when his strong, callused palm finally wraps around Tony’s leaking cock, Tony keens.

They both moan. Tony’s dick, now forty-eight hours past a comfortable soreness, is approaching painful after days of unfulfilling stimulation instigated by Tony’s own hand. Bucky’s touch burns hot, like a brand, and Tony exhales a hiss through his teeth.

Bucky’s movements falters immediately, feeling the tension coil tighter in Tony’s body.

“Tony…” His voice is low, rough with an edge of worry and something headier. His fingers spasm from their grip on Tony’s shoulder. Still, he doesn’t fully let go. Keeps his grip on Tony gentle but firm.“You’re sore, aren’t you?”

Tony’s own fingers tighten their grip on Bucky’s thighs, pulling himself closer as if trying to push through the discomfort. His mind is clouded, thoughts scattered, but the aching pull in his core is the only thing that keeps him tethered to the moment.

“Don’ stop," Tony’s voice breaks, a quiet, ragged whisper as he presses himself closer to Bucky. His hips thrust up of their own volition, seeking more, and Bucky’s grip tightens imperceptibly. He doesn’t care if it’s messy, doesn’t care if it’s too much—he needs it, needs him.“Please.”

The plea is raw and desperate, and it doesn’t even feel his own. It comes from a place deeper than logic, from the heart of the heat that scorches through his veins.

But Bucky’s fist—steady, grounding—tightens, just enough to make Tony feel every tiny nuance of touch.

Tony sags, collapsing back into Bucky’s embrace. The breath leaves his lungs in a whine.

“You sure, sweetheart? You don’t have to take more than you can handle.” His words are soft, almost reverent, but there’s something underneath it—something darker. Intoxicating.

“So sure,” Tony exhales. “Fuck, don’t stop. Bucky. Alpha.” His voice falters but then steadies, the desperation in it clear. “Don’t care. I can take it. Just—don’t stop.” The pleasure will outlive the pain, he’s certain. And he craves it. Craves Bucky’s touch like he’s drowning in it.

He shivers as Bucky shifts behind him. The Alpha’s hand moves again, his grip on Tony’s cock slow but sure, and Tony’s resounding moan is so loud that Bucky’s hand shoots up to cover his mouth. Gripping Tony’s jaw.

“Oh, you sweet thing. I’ll give you exactly what you need. But we don’t wanna wake Stevie, do we?” Bucky murmurs into his ear, pure gravel.

Tony freezes, eyes wide, his hot breath huffing against Bucky’s hand. His body stills for a moment, processing the words. And then, in the next breath, the sound of his desperation is muffled, but still there—caught in his throat, vibrating through Bucky’s palm. His eyes roll back into his head.

“Good boy,” Bucky praises roughly. “I’ll help you, baby. I’ll take away the ache. Just need you to keep it quiet, yeah? Just be good and take it.”

Tony’s breath hitches in response, a wail escaping his muffled lips before he can stop it. The pressure in his core flares again, sharper, more intense, and his fingers dig into Bucky’s skin as if trying to anchor himself.

“Fuck, Tony...” Bucky murmurs, his voice thick with a hunger that makes Tony’s fuzzy, syrupy head spin.

Tony’s always drippy during heats. He’s practically leaking into Bucky’s hand, aided by pre-cum and the slick pooling between his thighs, and the only sounds in the room are the wet, squelching noises of Bucky jacking Tony off and their combined belabored breathing.

Tony squirms. He moans. His hands shoot up to grip Bucky’s arm, back bowing, and Bucky has to wrap his ankles around Tony’s to keep the Omega’s hips anchored where he needs them.

Bucky starts babbling. The rise and fall of his chest echoes against Tony’s back. He can feel the Alpha’s strained breaths. The words tumble out of his mouth, seemingly unwittingly.

"You’re so fucking soaked, doll,” he husks. His words are low, dragged from somewhere deep in his chest as he feels the slickness on Tony’s skin. As Tony drips shamelessly into his lap. “All this for me? You can't even help it, can you?”

His thumb brushes over Tony’s cockhead, smearing pre-cum against Tony’s sensitive slit, and Tony sobs and bites down on the flesh of Bucky’s palm. “So fucking needy," Bucky continues, reverent, his lips brushing the side of Tony’s neck. Tasting his pulsing scent gland. ”Can’t even stand it, huh? Need your Alpha to fix you. I’m the only one who can, Tony. You know that, don’t you?”

Tony’s response is a low, strangled groan, stifled by Bucky’s hand, but it’s enough for Bucky. He feels the way Tony’s body arches, the way he shifts under him, dizzy and desperate for more.

“Look at you,” Bucky whispers. “You can’t even control yourself. Just a fucking mess for me, aren’t you? So perfect, so beautiful like this.”

There’s pain—pressure, oversensitivity, the sharp sting of contact against Tony’s delicate flesh. But the pleasure is blinding, and the combination of sensations has Tony writhing. Panting and pleading.

Bucky alternates pace and pressure, gauging all of Tony’s smallest, most subtle tells—the slightest hitch of his lungs, the barest flex of his fingers around Bucky’s forearm—to work his body like a finely tuned instrument.

He speeds his hand when Tony’s hips stutter, arching to chase the delectable heat pooling in his belly. He eases up when Tony’s pleasure bleeds into something sharp, something a little more pointed, subduing the Omega and bringing him back to that sweet spot that has him moaning unabashedly like a feral animal.

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky,” Tony warbles. He pumps his hips to meet Bucky’s thrusts, and when Bucky grinds his own cock against the small of Tony’s back, seeking friction, it pulls a shocked, helpless noise from his lungs.

Bucky chuckles darkly, rolling his hips in time with his hand. A crude imitation of Tony’s deepest, headiest desire.

“Sweetheart,” he croons. His pace quickens, hand stripping Tony’s cock with barely-restrained urgency. The obscene sound of wet skin echoes through the room. He lets out another laugh when Tony quakes, this one tinged with disbelief. Awe. “You can feel it, can’t you? How much I want you? How much I need you?”

Bucky’s breathing is becoming heavier, more labored, and Tony feels it like a pulse in the air, like the rhythm of a storm about to break. Each exhale from Bucky is a low, brutal sound that vibrates against Tony’s back, and he can feel the slight tremor in Bucky’s muscles as his hand strokes firmly over Tony’s weeping dick, as his arm tightens across Tony’s chest, fingers flexing against his mouth. Holding himself back, trying to give Tony exactly what he needs without breaking.

“I could—fuck—I could come like this. Just from this, you rockin’ in my lap like a goddamn dream. Whimperin’ and cryin’, lettin’ you Alpha know how good he makes you feel.”

Tony’s hands tear Bucky’s palm from his mouth. He sucks in a gasping breath, lungs burning.

“Please,” he begs. His voice cracks. He doesn’t care. “Please, please—want it. Oh—my, fu—Alpha.”

Bucky curses. His hand travels to Tony’s throat. Not gripping, but holding. Tony’s brain immediately goes a little woozy, a little lightheaded.

“But this ain’t about me,” Bucky grits. “I want you. I wanna be inside you more than I want my next breath. It’s all I think about. You’re mine, Tony. You fucking belong to me.”

The words are magic to Tony’s heat-fogged existence. His spine bows, ribs expanding. He feels like he’s floating.

With the hand to his throat, Bucky tilts Tony’s head back, just far enough to press a kiss to Tony’s temple. Tony moves like a puppet. Bucky lingers there for a moment, lips pressed to Tony’s damp skin.

A sweet, striking contrast to the filthy reactions he’s pulling from Tony’s body.

“B–Bucky,” Tony chokes. Sobs, really. “M’gonna, I’m so… ohhh. You’re—”

“Yours,” Bucky interrupts, his tone rough and sure. “Every piece of me, Tony. Yours. Come for me, doll.”

Tony’s body sings at the command, his submissive instincts surging in a way he so desperately works to suppress when he’s clear-headed. He comes so hard his scream breaks off halfway through it. He finds himself once again choking on Bucky’s palm.

“There you go, honey. That’s right, let it go. Let your Alpha have it.” Bucky can’t seem to shut up as he works Tony through the aftershocks, Tony trembling and shaking in his lap with the force of his release. It lasts forever, his thighs vibrating with released tension as he wets up his stomach with come, coating his dick and Bucky’s hand.

“Baby doll. Pretty Omega. Fuck. That’s it.” He strokes Tony through it until Tony is crying out from the overstimulation, squirming against his grip. It’s perfect, it’s endless—the release floods his veins like euphoria. His spine goes soft.

“C’mere”, Bucky breathes once Tony is left a limp, wheezing shell of an Omega. He pulls Tony back into his arms, tucking his head under his chin. He’s still hard underneath Tony, pulsing hot enough for Tony to feel between their thin layers of clothing. Tony whines, dropping his check to Bucky’s chest. Wet with his own spit. He shudders, and Bucky’s arms tighten.

“Feel better?” Bucky asks, and Tony—despite everything—snorts.

Bucky grins against the crown of his head. “There he is.”

“I think you killed me,” Tony says. He rubs at his nose, his limbs leaden.“I might be dead.” He can hardly move his tongue to form the words. The base of his spine thrums pleasantly. He’s pliant and sweaty in Bucky’s arms, overwhelmed with the aftershocks of his pleasure.

“You’ll live,” Bucky replies, lips twitching. “Now, shut up and let me hold you.”

As the fog of need clears, Tony sinks into something warmer. Something safer. With Bucky’s erection pressing into the small of his back, he slips back into unconsciousness, covered in his own spend.

3:46 A.M.

“Jesus Christ. It’s been over three days. I should be… ugh. Done.”

Bucky laughs, his body curved toward Tony’s. His chest is flushed down to his stomach, heated from the steady, blooming aroma of Tony’s growing arousal. Even in the dark, Tony can make out the size of his pupils. Glittering, blown.

“It’s not a race, doll. There’s no prize for getting to the finish line faster. You’re finally just gettin’ the attention you deserve. You know it; your body knows it.”

“Yeah, well, my dick knows it, too,” Tony grouses. “And I think if anyone touches it again, it might fall off.”

The tight, coiling feeling is back. Softer, less urgent than before, but no less persistent. Every flicker of warmth in Bucky’s gaze draws attention to the need pooling at his spine, every pull of desire amplified in ways that make Tony feel like he’s coming apart at the seams.

He fights through the fog. Tries to ground his syrupy, sluggish brain to the present.

“What do you need, baby?”

Tony rolls onto his back, swallowing thickly. He brings his palms to his eyes and exhales toward the ceiling.

“Dunno,” he admits. His voice sounds small, even to his own ears. Feeble. “Might just wait for this wave to pass.”

Something he used to do often, after his body had been wrecked by overstimulation. Now—familiar with the touch of Bucky’s hands on his body, familiar with an Alpha’s presence guiding him through his pleasure—it sounds like torture.

Bucky makes a low, thoughtful sound.

“Or,” he says,“we can get creative.”

Tony tenses. “I thought we weren’t… you said you weren’t going to—” he trails off, the unspoken ‘fuck me’ forming on the tip of his tongue.

Bucky’s lip twitch again, infuriating. Perfect. Tony wants to kiss him.

“There are plenty of things we can do,” Bucky says easily, “that don’t involve me getting my cock inside you, sweetheart.”

Tony’s feeling a little bratty. A little petulant—his skin is too warm, his body teetering somewhere on the confusing precipice of agitation, arousal, and exhaustion. His perpetual state of desire evokes a vulnerability that summons endless frustration, both physically and mentally. His dick aches, despite its constant persistence. It rubs against his underwear in a way that has him gritting his teeth.

And still, none of this negates the side effects of his lingering heat. It clouds his judgment, clinging stubbornly as Tony tosses and turns in the arms of his Alpha. In sheets that smell like his Alpha. As he inhales lungfuls of Bucky’s glorious, rich scent, as Bucky trails his hands along all of Tony’s most sensitive spots, fingers constantly sweeping across his glands, his neck, his hips.

Turns out he drops pretty easy, under the right circumstances.

Especially when he’s half-naked in his Alpha’s bed, dragging through his heat, listening to said Alpha drawl about fucking Tony on his cock.

Like clockwork, Tony’s brain goes a little soft. A little spacey. The fight zaps out of his bones.

The orgasms are nice. Perfect. The pleasure that Bucky so easily pulls out of his body is intense enough to instill immense amounts of humility inside a teenage boy overly familiar with jerking off. He’s starting to think there may never have been pleasure before Bucky—true pleasure, the kind that seeps into his bones and renders him useless. Needy. Complete.

It’s a type of relief he’s never been able to provide for himself, not truly. Not the way his body and his biology require.

But even this—coming with a hand on his cock (however perfect Bucky’s grip, no matter how unwaveringly devoted his attention to Tony’s body may be)—merely begins to scratch the itch of his repressed, earth-shattering craving to be knotted.

It’s easier to hunger for it, when he’s like this. Fucked out, soft and loose and pliant in the grip of his heat-addled submission. When his deep-seated fears and insecurities seem to be nothing more than mindless afterthoughts; memories of a past self.

Still on his back, still staring at the ceiling, his heart pounds against his ribs as he chews on his lip, suppressing the innate whine crawling up the tunnel of his throat.

He’s too busy knuckling at the corners of his eyes, caught in the undertow of sensation, to catch the Alpha’s expression. It shifts from something smug to something softer, like worship, and his scent morphs with it, washing over Tony like the tide.

Bucky’s hands roam with a practiced ease, pulling Tony’s hands from his face by his wrists and hovering over him like he was made to fit there. Slotting his thigh seamlessly between Tony’s legs. “Don’t hide from me. You’ve got no idea what you do to me, do you?” he continues, quiet. He pushes Tony’s wrists up above his head, and Tony goes willingly. Easily. Fingers flexing in his Alpha’s grip.“The way you look at me when you’re all dazed like this... makes me wanna wreck you and put you back together a hundred times over. Make sure you never forget how good you can have it, now that you’re with me.”

Tony pushes out a rushed laugh. He feels manic.

With his free hand, Bucky tilts Tony’s head back slightly, just enough to press a firm kiss to the hinge of his jaw. “I’ve got you. Whatever you need, whenever you need it. I’d move heaven and earth for you. Hell, I’d rip ‘em both apart if it’d make you feel even an ounce better.”

It’s nonsense. It’s indulgence. Ridiculous and perfect. The exact kind of absurd sweet-talking that sends Tony under, as quick as anything.

Bucky’s lips find Tony’s jaw again, lingering this time, the press of his mouth deliberate and firm.

He doesn’t rush, doesn’t let the heat of the moment pull him out of his rhythm. His lips are slightly chapped, but warm, leaving a trail of kisses down the curve of Tony’s jawline. Each touch feels heavier than the last, sinking into Tony’s skin like a brand.

When Bucky kisses just beneath Tony’s ear, Tony shudders and gasps, his fingers clenching weakly at nothing. His wrists still pressed firmly into the mattress. “Right here,” Bucky murmurs. He tilts Tony’s head slightly, angling him so that he can press his mouth more firmly against the soft curve of Tony’s throat. Teasing the edge of his mating gland.“Can’t get enough of you, gorgeous. Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

He kisses down the column of Tony’s throat, slow and savoring. His lips mold perfectly to each dip and curve, the slight scrape of his teeth dragging just enough to make Tony arch against him. Bucky hums low in his chest, the sound vibrating through both of them as he presses a firmer kiss just above Tony’s collarbone, lingering there like he doesn’t want to leave.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathes, the words barely audible against Tony’s skin. He pulls back just far enough to cradle Tony’s cheek in his hand, tilting him up, their foreheads almost touching. “You feel it too, don’t you? How good this is?”

He doesn’t let Tony answer. He just kisses him again, this time on the mouth.

It’s slower than Tony expects, like Bucky’s savoring every second. He presses in close, coaxing Tony’s lips apart with gentle insistence, his tongue brushing softly against Tony’s lower lip. The kiss deepens naturally, their mouths sliding together with an ease that makes Tony’s head spin.

Tony feels a frantic, kinetic energy pulsing inside him. He whimpers and tries to deepen the kiss, trembling against the bed, but Bucky gentles it each time Tony’s urgency bleeds through. Unhurried and deliberate. Coaxing Tony into a dizzying, boneless headspace.

When Bucky pulls away, Tony’s vision feels spotty.

“Look at me.” Bucky’s hands move to frame Tony’s face, propping himself up on his elbows. Tony’s arms obediently stay stretched up by his ears. He blinks rapidly into focus. Bucky’s lips brush Tony’s temple, then his cheek, soft and grounding. The faint rasp of stubble catches on Tony’s overheated skin, the sensation somehow soothing. Bucky's voice, low and deliberate, breaks through the haze.

“Everything we do is supposed to feel good, Tony,” he says, the words careful but firm, like he’s staking a claim against some ghost of doubt. “That’s how it’s meant to be. If it doesn’t feel good, we stop. Doesn’t matter how close you are or what you think you’re supposed to do. Got it?”

Tony blinks sluggishly, the fog in his mind too thick to navigate. Bucky’s words swirl in his head, heavy and meaningful, familiar, but they don’t quite land.

He glances up at Bucky, his brow furrowed. “Was this… is this about Arnie?”

Bucky stills for a moment. His lips part and he exhales slowly, choosing his next words carefully.

“You don’t have to think about that right now, doll,” he says, his voice laced with a kind of tenderness that only makes Tony more confused. “Everything I’m doin’ is to make you feel nice. Nothing else matters. Not me, not anyone else—just you. So if it… hurts, if it feels like too much, you tell me. No one gets to tell you what’s normal except you.

Tony huffs, the sound more desperate than frustrated. “No, I—” He shakes his head, trying to find clarity in the haze of heat and exhaustion. “I remember… what he said. And you got mad?” His words tumble out in fragments, disjointed and uncertain, like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle that’s missing half the pieces.

And then he tenses.

“Oh. He… he said I lied to him,” Tony whispers. “That I told him it wouldn’t hurt.”

Bucky’s jaw ticks. “He was upset,” he says carefully, tone measured. “And maybe he had a right to be, in his own way. But that doesn’t mean he was right to put that on you.”

Tony frowns, the weight of Arnie’s words pressing down on him again, mingling with the persistent heat thrumming in his veins. “But I did tell him that. And I knew—” He swallows, his throat tight. “I knew I was lying.”

Bucky’s hands spasm, the smallest movement, and Tony watches the Alpha’s chin raise, his lips brushing Tony’s hairline. “You weren’t, baby,” Bucky says gently, but there’s a firmness in his voice that leaves no room for argument. “You told him what you thought was true. What you wanted to believe for him—and for yourself.”

His mind is still too clouded with need to form a coherent response, but Bucky doesn’t give him the chance to speak.

“Listen to me,” Bucky says, his voice low and unyielding, and Tony feels it vibrate through his chest. “It’s only ever supposed to feel good. Every damn time. No matter what. I know you’ve been through shit, Tony. I know you’ve got these scars inside of you,” Each word is clipped, each syllable dripping with intensity. “But that ain’t your fault. And I’m not gonna let you forget that this?” He pushes his own hard, straining cock against Tony’s hipbone. “It’s supposed to be good, sweet boy. So good—every damn moment of it. You hear me? If it doesn’t feel good, we’re doin’ it wrong.”

Tony stares up at him, a little wet around the eyes. Stunned and speechless.

“You don’t owe anyone anything. Not Arnie, not anyone. You deserve to feel good. To feel safe. And I will always take care of you, Tony. Always.” Bucky presses a kiss to the side of his head. “You trust me?”

Tony nods before he can stop himself. The haze is still there, dense and thick, but Bucky’s warmth cuts through it. His touch grounds him.

“Say it,” Bucky urges, his voice a little rougher now. “Tell me you trust me.”

“Yeah, always,” Tony finally whispers, his voice barely a breath. “Always, Buck. I trust you.”

Bucky’s entire demeanor shifts. The tension in his shoulders eases, and the edge in his voice softens, though a hint of raw vulnerability lurks behind it. He lets out a deep, rumbling breath, like a weight has been lifted, and he moves his hands gently over Tony’s body, brushing the stray strands of hair from his forehead.

“Good,” he says.“That’s all I needed to hear.” He kisses Tony’s nose. “Now that we’re on the same page,” he flashes Tony that same roguish smile, the one that always makes Tony’s heart skip in his chest. “I wanna try somethin’. I think you’ll like it.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, feeling a thrill of uncertainty roll through him. “What are you—” he starts, but the words die in his throat as he yelps, Bucky’s deft hands flipping him onto his stomach.

“Oof.”

Bucky presses his smile into Tony’s shoulder blade. He grazes his teeth along the skin when Tony shivers beneath him.

“Relax for me, baby.”

“Easier said than done,” Tony grumbles into his pillow. His heart is beating in his throat.

Bucky’s hand slides over Tony’s back, tracing the curve of his spine with gentle fingers. Just like that, Tony sinks into the mattress.

“That’s it,” Bucky croons. “Still with me, doll?”

Tony, eyes half-lidded, nods, but the haze of arousal makes it hard for him to form any coherent thoughts. “Yeah, m’fine,” he mumbles, voice hoarse.

Bucky’s thumb brushes against the back of Tony’s neck before he leans in, kissing the back of Tony’s ear softly. “Say the word, and we stop. Got it?”

“Which word?”

“Go ahead, honey, crack all the jokes you want. I’ve got you pegged. Smart mouth and all.”

Tony is Tony, and he tries for a clever retort, but all that escapes is a high, shocked sound as Bucky tugs his briefs over the curve of his ass, down to his knees.

He can’t move, can’t speak as Bucky shifts behind him, fingers tracing up the inside of his thighs. Gliding through rivulets of slick.

“Still burning for me,” Bucky muses. “Even after I’ve made you come twice. You don’t know how much I love seeing you like this, darlin’. So needy. Trusting me to take care of you.” He nudges Tony’s hips up, urging a pillow between him and the mattress, and Tony moves easily. Boneless.

“I think about this a lot,” the Alpha continues. Easy, casual. As if he and Tony are discussing the weather. He palms the flesh of Tony’s ass, and Tony moans, scrubbing his forehead into the mattress below. His fingers fist the sheets on either side of his head. “Oh, darlin’. Have you ever touched yourself here?”

Tony nods, more than a bit desperate. His skin is flushed from his hairline to his toes.

“Uh, huh,” he admits. “In heat.”

Bucky makes a cooing, sympathetic sound behind him. His thumb presses into the give of his flesh, barely brushing along the rim of Tony’s wet, aching hole. Tony’s lungs collapse into his ribs. The whine he releases is loud, unhinged.

He truly, desperately hopes Steve Rogers is a heavy sleeper.

“Poor Omega. You touched yourself here this weekend, didn’t you? When you were all alone? Cryin’ for something bigger? Something to fill you up?”

Tony’s shocked laugh morphs into a choked hiccup. “Jesus, Buck.” He squirms against the Alpha’s touch. “Yeah. Yeah.”

He might die like this, he thinks.

“Did you think about me?”

Correction, he will die like this.

“Bucky,” he gasps. Color floods his cheeks. If he grips the sheets any harder in anticipation, he’ll tear them.

“Tell me, Tony.” Bucky’s voice has a sharper edge, now. Something darker, richer. “Did you think about me when you were fucking yourself with your fingers? When you were achin’ and wigglin’ to reach that soft spot inside you? Did you imagine it was me?” Bucky’s thumb hooks into the rim of his hole, and a gush of slick pours out. The Alpha’s scent blooms. “My fingers inside of you? My cock? My knot?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Tony wails. He pushes his hips back to meet Bucky’s touch, desperate, but Bucky’s hand on his hip stills him. “Thought about you. Always—oh!—Always thinking ‘bout you.”

Bucky makes a low, pleased noise, leans over to kiss the dip of Tony’s spine, and then sinks his pointer finger inside Tony to the second knuckle.

Both boys curse.

Despite his nerves, Tony’s body is warm, willing. Pliant and softened by his heat. Bucky’s finger sinks into him like a stone in water, aided by the copious slick gushing out of his body.

“Baby doll. Jesus. So tight, so perfect.” Bucky sounds like he’s speaking through clenched teeth. Tony can’t do anything but bite down on his pillow and take it.

Bucky works his finger into Tony slowly, praises spilling from his lips as Tony adjusts to the stretch of the unfamiliar digit. Longer and thicker than his own. Pushing into him at an unfamiliar, dizzying angle. Tony clenches around it greedily, his body adjusting so easily to the stretch that it craves.

It’s everything.

His resilient dick is rock hard against his stomach, grinding lazily into the mattress with each careful thrust of Bucky’s hand, but Tony doesn’t even register it. All of his focus, his entire existence is narrowed down to a fine point—to Bucky’s dexterous, practiced finger dragging in and out of him, his hole sucking in the intrusion greedily.

Tony can feel every nerve ending in his body. When Bucky’s finger finally pushes in all the way, nudging past the easy resistance of tight muscle up to the third knuckle, stars explode behind his eyelids.

“Ohhh,” Tony groans. “Oh my God. More. Alpha, More.”

Bucky laughs behind him, the sound tinged with disbelief. “How many have you had before, baby?”

The slow-moving cogs in Tony’s brain work to dissect Bucky’s question.

“Two,” Tony gasps. “Jus’ two.”

Bucky rewards him with a curl of his finger, and Tony’s back arches so much that Bucky has to use his own hips to hold Tony to the bed.

Tony can hear Bucky’s smug triumph. It pours into his scent.

“Two’s perfect. Two’s all we need.”

A second finger begins toying at his rim. Tony cries out in ecstasy.

“Easy. Easy. Just like that. Nice and relaxed for me, doll.”

Time becomes fluid, ebbing and flowing. Tony doesn’t know how long Bucky pumps a lone finger into him—unhurried, unrushed, letting the mewling Omega underneath him squirm and shake under the sensation as he continues to whisper filth into his mouth.

“I fucked my fist in the shower, thinking about this.” Bucky licks the sweat-dampened shell of Tony’s ear. “You were asleep, poor thing, all worn out from spilling all over my hand. I got myself off with you still on me, drippin’ all over my fingers. So fucking beautiful, sweetheart. I closed my eyes and pictured this—stretching out this poor, aching hole on my fingers. Making you come again, just from strokin’ inside you, all nice-like.”

Tony’s nodding frantically. He might be crying. He can’t tell if his face is wet from tears or drool.

“You’re better than a dream. So good for me like this, Tony. So sweet and perfect. You ready for another?”

“Please,” Tony begs. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

“Good boy,” Bucky husks, and then he’s biting into the skin at the crook of Tony’s shoulder the exact moment a second finger breaches Tony’s body. Tony jolts, and then lets out a keening wail.

“Fuck, Tony. You’re tight.”

He is, he knows it. But the stretch is wonderful; it’s exactly what he needs, exactly what he’s never able to give himself.

What his body is made for. Just for Bucky.

Desperate pleas spill from Tony’s lips—a warbled mixture of “Bucky” and “Alpha”—as Bucky works diligently to scissor his fingers inside of Tony as much as the tight space allows. Tony can only hear his breathing, can only feel the press of Bucky’s chest against his own sweat-slick back, but his Alpha sounds wrecked.

“Feelin’ good, honey?”

Tony makes an unintelligible noise, but thrusts his arm out beside him. Gives the Alpha a thumbs up.

Bucky barks out a laugh. Fond.

“Atta boy,” he praises. “Hang tight, doll.” He twists his wrist and thrusts deep. Crooks his fingers downward.

“Fuck!”

And then Bucky is cooing something about a sweet spot, assaulting it with the pads of his fingers with practiced aim and flawless pressure until Tony is writhing and sobbing and vibrating against the bed.

“Oh my god, Alpha, oh my god…”

“You sweet fucking thing, bet you didn’t even know how much you’d enjoy that.”

Tony is a man of science. He knows biology. He knows, in theory, about the existence of his prostate.

It doesn’t stop Tony from screaming out as Bucky fucks his fingers in and out, aiming for that soft spot each time and building Tony’s pleasure up to a speeding, frenzied crest.

He’s never been able to reach it himself. Has never known any pleasure as overwhelming that hasn’t derived from a hand on dick.

But this—Bucky’s fingers inside him, buried in the most intimate part of his body—he can’t help but preen. Revel. Succumb to the nature of his body, his designation. He ruts against the mattress and grinds subconsciously back into the force of Bucky’s fingers, making quiet “unh, unh, unh” sounds as the warm, indulgent feeling in his belly drags him further into that fuzzy headspace.

And Bucky gives it to him. The grip on his hip is ironclad as Bucky pumps his fingers with purpose, pulling choked-off, pathetic noises from Tony’s throat with each wet slide. And Bucky keeps cooing and murmuring sweet nonsense into the pheromone-rich air while he watches it all.

“Right there, right there. That’s it, that’s perfect. So good, so good for me. My gorgeous boy.”

Bucky tugs Tony’s hips upward and reaches underneath with his hand, presumably to assist in stroking Tony over the edge, but Tony whines and pulls away.

“Don’ need it,” he grits out. “Can—just like this.” He’s so, so close.

Bucky groans like he’s been shot. 

“Fuck. Yeah, okay. Just like this, baby. You’ll feel so much better when you come on your Alpha’s fingers. Come on, sweetheart, give it to me.”

And Tony is nothing if not obedient in heat. He listens to his Alpha.

A few more well-aimed thrusts and the whisper of a hand on the nape of his neck and he’s falling apart, coming untouched as the pressure in his gut snaps. Dick spitting white onto the sheets beneath him. Whimpering and mewling pathetically into the mattress, mouth gaping, tears spilling out of his eyes.

“Christ,” Bucky whispers, fucking him through it. His resolve sounds shaky. “Fucking hell, Tony.”

It just keeps going. Bucky rubs and rubs and rubs over that spot inside him that lights his nerve endings on fire, and Tony’s hole flutters greedily around his fingers, clenching like a vice. Luxuriating in the indulgence his body was made for. His orgasm drags out of him, come dribbling out the tip of his cockhead one last time as Bucky pushes his fingers in and presses.

Tony blacks out, after that.

6:11 A.M.

“What do you need?” Bucky asks, selfless and perfect. Dragging his hand through Tony’s curls.

Ready to provide again at the drop of a hat. Sounding genuinely pleased—God bless him—at the very notion, no less.

The echo of Bucky’s touch lingers everywhere. Tony glances up at his Alpha.

He’s leaning back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. Entirely at odds with the visible tension thrumming through his body.

The hand not touching Tony rests on his thigh, clenched into a tight fist. Like he’s willing himself into control.

Tony’s gaze drifts lower again, back to the unmistakable strain in Bucky’s boxers, the sharp curve of arousal that makes Tony’s mouth go dry.

The Alpha hasn’t let Tony touch him once.

A new kind of yearning pulls at the thread in Tony’s stomach.

“Enough about me. What do you need?” Tony asks, his voice hoarse but tinged with something light. “You’re killing yourself over here, pal.”

Bucky’s lips twitch into the faintest of smiles, but he shakes his head. “I’ll live,” he murmurs, his voice steady but noticeably rough around the edges.

Tony props himself up on his elbows, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, but will you? Because, uh—” He gestures vaguely toward Bucky’s lap, his tone turning shy. “You look like you’re one stiff breeze from a happy ending.”

Bucky snorts, shaking his head again, but he doesn’t move.

Tony’s brow furrows. The teasing edge in his voice gives way to something quieter, a little more uncertain. “I can help. Why won’t you let me… you know, return the favor?” His cheeks blaze red at the thought.

Realistically, Tony wouldn’t even know where to start. He’s never seen Bucky’s cock, not unclothed, but he’s felt it. He’s pressed and moaned and writhed against it. He knows there’s a lot to work with—perhaps, even, close to double what Tony has to work with.

In length and girth.

He swallows thickly.

Bucky exhales slowly, his head tipping back against the headboard. “It’s not about that.”

Tony sits up fully now, the blanket pooling around his waist. He crosses his legs beneath him, momentarily forgetting his own roiling, turbulent need. “Okay. Then what’s it about?”

Bucky’s gaze flicks to him, his eyes flickering with something unidentifiable as he reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from Tony’s face. “It’s about you,” he says simply.

Tony’s stomach twists, the warmth from moments ago giving way to something colder, heavier.

“Me,” he echoes dully. “Yeah. Alright.”

“Hey,” Bucky says, his hand shifting to cup Tony’s cheek, his thumb stroking over the delicate, paper-thin skin beneath his eye. “Don’t do that. Don’t twist it into something it’s not.”

Tony huffs a laugh, but it’s brittle. “I’m not twisting anything, Eagle Scout. Just seems pretty clear you don’t want—”

“I want,” Bucky interrupts, his voice sharp enough to make Tony stop mid-sentence. “Jesus, Tony, I want so bad it hurts.”

Tony blinks, caught off guard by the rawness in Bucky’s voice.

Bucky lets out a slow breath, his arm lifting to prop behind his head. “But this isn’t about what I want. It’s about you. You’re still coming down from your heat, still raw, still figuring out how to let someone be here for you without feeling like you have to give something back.”

Tony’s lips part, but no words come out. He chokes on air.

Bucky’s gaze holds his, steady and unrelenting. “You’re not a transaction, sweetheart. You don’t have to earn this. You don’t have to earn me.”

Tony deflates.

“Stupid, noble Alphas,” he grouses, and before he can second-guess himself, he’s pushing the rest of the blanket away to clamor into Bucky’s lap.

Bucky lifts a brow but doesn’t say anything as Tony situates himself on top of him, ass pressing firmly into the intimidating splendor of his stubborn erection. Only separated by thin layers of flannel and cotton. He catches Tony easily, strong hands settling instinctively at his slim waist as if they were made to hold him.

“Tony, what are you—”

“Just… shut up for a second,” Tony says with no bite. He tucks himself into the Alpha’s chest, inhaling. Centering himself. He doesn’t say anything for several moments, just burrowing closer, his forehead resting against the curve of Bucky’s neck. The scent of him is stabilizing, and Tony lets himself get lost in it for a moment.

Bucky trails his fingers along his spine, patient.

“I know you just want me to feel good, baby,” Bucky whispers into the crown of his head, breaking the silence after a few short minutes. “And I do. I swear it. Helping you makes me feel good.”

Tony rolls his eyes and nips at Bucky’s collarbone. “You’re allowed to want an orgasm. It won’t traumatize me.”

“Honey, I have no clue what’s goin’ to traumatize you on any given day.”

“Fair.” Tony wiggles in his lap, prompting a hiss from Bucky. His fingers tighten around Tony’s waist. Tony grins, close-mouthed and sheepish. “I want to watch.”

Bucky freezes.

“Tony,” he says slowly. A warning.

“M’serious. Your steadfast virtue is duly noted. But I’ve come three times since getting dragged into your bedroom. If you try to get me off again, I might slip into a hormonally-induced coma.”

“Doubt it,” Bucky retorts. He’s smirking again. “You’re easy, honey. All I need to do is whisper a couple a’ sweet things at you and you’re putty in my hands. You’re forgettin’ that I can smell how much you need me. Bet I could get you over the edge again in two minutes, flat.”

Tony knows, albeit reluctantly, that this is likely true.

“Not the point,” he says diplomatically. He clears his throat.“As an Omega, I’m essentially biologically wired to want to please my Alpha. It’s basic science, actually.”

Bucky scoffs. “Yeah, that’s you alright. Textbook Omega.”

“I’m vulnerable right now. Super sensitive. If you deny me this, I might weep.”

Bucky tilts his head back, a bemused expression on his face. “You’re definitely something, ya brat.”

Tony grins, unabashed. “I prefer ‘resolute’. Emphasizes my convictions. S’much more flattering.”

“It’s not.” Bucky gives him a pointed look. “This is… a bad idea, Tony.”

“Oh, come on,” Tony says, swatting lightly at Bucky’s warm, olive-toned arm. “You’re acting like I’m gonna collect your sperm and sell it to the highest bidder. I just want to watch.”

Bucky snorts, his hands tightening on Tony’s waist. Composing himself. “You don’t see how this might be... unnecessary?” His voice lowers, his brow furrowing. “I don’t need this, Tony. You’ve already given me everything.”

Tony shrugs, all faux nonchalance. Inside, he’s buzzing. “We’re way past necessary, Buck. You laid siege to my prostate until I passed out. Watching is, like, a logical next step.”

Bucky’s jaw works, the conflict flickering in his eyes as he searches for the right words. “It’s not about whether I want it or not,” he finally says. “’Cause believe me doll, I do. God, I do. But this… chasing my own pleasure like that, when you’re still—” He cuts himself off, his throat bobbing. “It’s different for me. It’s… instinct. It’s raw. And I never want you to think that’s all I’m after.”

Tony’s teasing expression dissolves completely, but he doesn’t drop the subject. Instead, he leans forward, his nose nuzzling the hollow of Bucky’s throat. “I know that, Bucky,” he says quietly. “I do. But this? This isn’t about proving anything. It’s about… I dunno, being close to you. Letting me see you. Knowing I’m the one who makes you feel like that.”

His own honesty shocks him. He attributes it to pheromones and post-orgasmic glow. Making his tongue loose and aiding substantially in vocalizing his desires.

Bucky tips his head forward to rest against Tony’s shoulder. “You’re impossible, y’know that?”

“Impossible and curious,” Tony quips. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a mock-serious whisper. “Come on, Sergeant. Show me what you’re working with. Purely for science.”

Bucky groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine. You win. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Tony’s beam is wicked. “I’ll make it worth your while. Pose all pretty.” He twists gracefully out of Bucky’s lap and launches himself back onto the Alpha’s pillow, feeling entirely too pleased with himself. “And I promise to be very professional about this.”

Bucky huffs. “That’s one word for it.”

As the quiet moment stretches between them, Tony feels a tiny flicker of unease creep into his chest. He replays the conversation in his mind, wondering if he pushed too hard—if Bucky’s softening isn’t him giving in, but him giving up. The thought makes his stomach churn, a sudden pang of guilt knotting his insides.

“I—” Tony starts, bravado dissipating, the words tangling in his throat. He doesn’t even know what he’s about to say, just that he feels the sudden need to backpedal, to give Bucky an out, a way to say no.

But then Bucky is shifting, pushing up from his reclined position, and before Tony can blink, the Alpha is looming over him. The bed dips under his weight as Bucky settles his broad frame over Tony, bracketing him between solid arms. The heat of him is overwhelming, and Tony freezes beneath the intensity of his presence.

“Hey,” Bucky says, nudging Tony’s nose with his own. His steel grey eyes find Tony’s, and everything Tony sees in them makes his panic dissolve like mist under the sun. Bucky’s gaze isn’t strained or reluctant. It isn’t even hesitant.

It’s burning.

There’s a hunger there, deep and consuming, but tempered with the same steady warmth and vigilance the Alpha constantly radiates. There isn’t a single ounce of reluctance in the way Bucky looks at him, only need and affection so strong it almost steals Tony’s breath.

“Hey,” Tony says back. Barely a whisper.

Bucky’s breathing is heavy, shallow, but Tony can see the gleam in his pupils—the edge of something dangerous and beautiful.

He doesn’t have time to say anything, to question or analyze. Bucky’s mouth drops to his, deep and bruising and urgent, lacking the usual tenderness Tony’s come to expect. His lips press into Tony’s with the same force that radiates from every inch of him—muscles tense, chest heaving, the heat of his body engulfing Tony’s. It’s the kind of kiss that consumes, leaving no space for anything else in the world but the two of them.

Tony melts into it and moans.

His lungs spasm as Bucky's hand tangles in his hair, tugging him to the right angle, and Tony’s legs part instinctively. The bed creaks beneath them as Bucky shifts, the weight of him settling over Tony like a furnace.

“Open,” Bucky commands roughly, dragging his thumb across Tony’s bottom lip. He dives back in and Tony succumbs easily, shivering as he feels Bucky’s tongue plunge deep and take. He can’t fight the way his own body responds with an instinctive desperation that mirrors Bucky’s. Every touch feels like it’s been building for days, every movement between them drenched in the heavy, suffocating pressure of desire.

Through all of it, Bucky’s eyes—when they finally break away—glitter with something unspoken.

“Gonna touch myself, sweetheart,” Bucky says against Tony’s lips, voice ragged and raw. “Gonna show you what you do to me. How you make me feel, every damn minute of the day.”

Tony nods eagerly, chasing Bucky’s lips. Bright, cherry red and shiny with spit. Bucky pulls away, and he whines.

Bucky smiles, but it’s almost feral, a flash of teeth that sends a thrill coursing through Tony’s veins. “Desperate for it, huh?” His fingers run along Tony’s jawline, tracing the outline of his lips before brushing back through his hair to hold him still, a reminder of how easily he can take control. “To see your Alpha’s cock? His knot?”

If anyone knew just how desperate Tony was, they’d probably have him committed to the nearest mental institution.

“Tell me you want it, Tony,” Bucky breathes, pulling back just enough to look into Tony’s eyes. “Tell me you want this.”

Tony’s heart thunders in his chest, and it’s impossible to keep his voice steady. “Yeah, Buck. Yeah, God, I want it.”

Bucky groans. “Good.” He pulls back, sitting back on his heels. He’s painfully hard, a noticeable wet patch staining the fabric of his boxers where his cockhead strains. His hair falls into his eyes and his chest heaves, perfect expanses of smooth, sweetly tanned skin.

Tony’s never wanted anything more than he wants him.

He wets his lips. Drags his eyes to his Alpha’s crotch and clenches his thighs together.

And then waves a hand in the air for loose emphasis.

“Proceed,” he says, though it comes out like a wheeze.

Bucky gazes at him from under his eyelashes, the corners of his mouth twitching into a crooked smile. Tony’s favorite smile. He places his left hand on Tony’s knee, thumb caressing the skin, and dips the other hand into his boxers.

“This is what you do to me, Tony,” he rasps. He pushes the fabric past his hips, down to his knees, and Tony suddenly wishes the sunlight dipping through the window was softer. His eyes go wide, wide, his jaw dropping open to suck in a strong gasp.

He knew Bucky was going to be large. He’s felt it by now—straining through layers of fabric, mostly—but clearly imposing, nonetheless.

And it’s not like Tony has endless frames of reference. He’s seen his own dick, obviously—normal, average, if not a little on the smaller side due to his presentation. He hasn’t had time to be insecure about it, not with Bucky’s hands sending him to orbit every time he gets a decent grip on it.

He’s seen crude drawings in textbooks.

But Bucky’s cock is massive. Frames of reference be damned.

It curves against his stomach, shining at the tip, and when Bucky drags his fist down the length of it, the Alpha’s own long fingers hardly wrap around the circumference.

“Bucky,” he whispers, reverent. He squirms against the bed, and Bucky’s fingers tighten on his knee.

Be good.

Bucky doesn’t seem shocked by Tony’s stunned, awestruck gaze. Instead, his chin falls to his chest, hiding his smile. He gives himself another long, smooth stroke, and the tension bleeds from his shoulders.

Tony gapes. He wants to touch him. He wants to lick him.

Bucky’s cock is red. Angry from hours of neglect without release. Pre-cum gathers at the tip and Bucky swipes his thumb over the mess to ease the slide of his fist, shuddering at the sensation. His eyes, when they peer down at Tony, are black.

Tony lays immobile. Raptured.

Bucky lets go of Tony’s knee to press a thumb under Tony’s chin. Urging his mouth closed.

Something dark flashes across the Alpha’s weighted gaze, then. Something predatory.

His hand doesn’t drop. Instead, he cups Tony’s face near his jaw. Presses his thumb to Tony’s bottom lip until it gives.

The digit slips into his mouth. Bucky growls.

Tony knows they’re on the cusp of something dangerous. The air in the room, a mixture of their combined pheromones, suddenly feels electric. Charged.

“Before you, I hadn’t popped a knot since my last rut.” Bucky speaks in an octave Tony didn’t know he was capable of. A deep, throaty baritone. His fingers flex around himself as he increases the speed of his strokes, the tip of his cock leaking as it pushes past the ring of his fingers. Clear fluid gathers and spills down his knuckles.

Tony says nothing. Inhibited by the warm, salty pressure of Bucky’s thumb on his tongue.

“Then I met you. The most beautiful boy. Smelling—fuck—like a goddamn dream. I was done for, after that. I’ve popped a knot every time I’ve thought about you with my hand on my dick since.”

Tony’s own dick stirs in his underwear. He ignores it.

“Never knew I could do that before. Had only popped a knot when I—” The Alpha breaks off, hissing through his teeth as he squeezes around the base of his length. He tips his head up toward the ceiling, mouth parting in pleasure. Breaths ragged.

The implication is clear—Bucky had only been able to produce a knot during sex.

For whatever reason, this particular revelation doesn’t sour Tony’s snug and cozy headspace. Doesn’t pull him out of his rapt mesmerization.

His eyes widen, his breathing becoming shallow around Bucky’s thumb as Bucky groans and trembles, the Alpha’s lip tucking into his teeth as the skin of his flushed, leaking cock starts to swell at the base.

It’s obscene. Decadent. Bucky ignores the rapidly expanding knot, fingers gliding up and down the slick shaft as lewd noises fill the space between them. Bucky’s eyes snap to Tony’s, gaze ravenous, and Tony quakes when Bucky edges his thumb further into Tony’s mouth.

He doesn’t choke, but it’s a close thing. It takes superhuman levels of restraint to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head, Bucky’s thumb pressing heavily onto the back of his tongue. His hand gripping Tony’s jaw and keeping his mouth pried open.

If Tony drools a little, well. That’s between him and his salivary glands.

Bucky’s knot swells at the base, the size of a small fist, and the fleeting expression of panic that reveals itself in Tony’s expression (for the sake of his asshole, truly,) has Bucky smirking. He pulls his thumb out of Tony’s mouth, a line of spit dragging from Tony’s lip.

“You’re gonna break me in half,” Tony coughs out once his mouth is free.

Bucky laughs. Hoarse and rough. He wraps his fingers around the engorged flesh and moans, louder than Tony’s heard him so far, and the sound of it rattles something inside Tony’s bones.

“It’ll—oh—it’ll fit, doll. We’ll make it fit. You’ll take me so good, sweetheart. Fuck. I know it.”

And, well. Tony, with his mile-wide competitive streak, has certainly never shied away from a challenge.

So he nods, and whines, and sinks blissfully under the delicious weight of Bucky’s filthy assurances. “Want you to come,” he whispers, a little shy and still a little heat-stunned.

Bucky’s responding exhale is slow, controlled. His tongue darts out to wet his lip and his brow furrows. If Tony could move his limbs, he would smooth out the wrinkle with his thumb.

The Alpha leans down, his face so close that Tony can feel the heat of his breath. His knuckles drag across Tony’s belly as he drags his fist up and down. “Oh, you want me to come, huh?” His voice is a low, gravelly purr, and the sound sends a shiver down Tony’s spine. “Sweetheart, you gotta know—every time I come now, it’s for you. Always for you.”

Tony gulps. His face burns, but he doesn’t look away. He couldn’t even if he wanted to.

“You have no idea, do you?” Bucky continues, his thumb circling the swollen knot, a strangled sound breaking from his throat. “This—God—this is yours, Tony. Everything I am, everything I got, it’s yours. You’re the only one who gets me like this.”

Tony’s lips part, but no sound comes out. He can only watch, utterly captivated as Bucky moves, deltoids flexing, dragging out his own pleasure like he’s savoring it.

The Alpha’s breath hitches, and he swears under his breath, his free hand bracing against the bed next to Tony’s head. “Christ, you’re so fucking pretty,” he rasps. “Just layin’ there, lookin’ at me like that. You don’t even know what you’re doin’ to me, do you?”

Tony swallows hard, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “Not my fault you’re a sucker for a pretty face,” he says shakily.

Bucky’s smirk widens, lazy and confident. The only sign of his dissolving composure is the flush on his cheeks, the steady increase of his breathing as he works his cock harder. Faster. “Pretty face, gorgeous everything else. I’ve told you, baby, you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

Tony’s stomach does a weird little twist at the words. It’s a fluttery, almost nauseating feeling, and for a moment, he has to fight the urge to deflect with a quip. He’s saved from having to respond when Bucky’s moving again, sitting back, his fingers brushing against Tony’s thigh as he fucks his fist, slow and deliberate.

“God,” Bucky murmurs, his head tipping back just slightly, exposing the column of his throat. “You’re so good to me, you know that? Just sittin’ there, bein’ mine, lookin’ at me like you’re starvin’ for it. You make it so easy, Tony. So damn easy to lose my mind over you.”

The confession hits Tony like a lightning bolt, his breath catching in his throat as the raw, unfiltered emotion in Bucky’s voice wraps around him and holds him tight. There’s a flicker of something in Bucky’s tone—something unspoken, something neither of them is quite ready to say.

Tony simply squirms, his hands finding their way to Bucky’s thighs, grounding himself in the solid warmth beneath his fingers.

“Alpha” he manages, begging a little, though his voice cracks on the word.

Bucky chuckles, low and warm. “Patience, doll. You’ll get your show. Can’t blame me for wantin’ to drag it out a little.” He bites his bottom lip, groaning as he picks up his pace, his hips jerking slightly in time with his hand.

The sight has Tony’s head spinning. Bucky, all broad shoulders and rippling muscles, flushed and wrecked in the best way. And all for him. The thought sends an electrifying shiver through him.

“You like watchin’ me, darlin’?” Bucky rasps, his voice thick with heat and amusement. His eyes, half-lidded but still sharp, find Tony’s. The intensity in them is magnetic, pulling Tony further into the spell of the moment.

Tony swallows hard. “Uh-huh.”

Bucky’s laugh is low and guttural. “Uh-huh,” he mimics, teasing. “Look at you, sweetheart. Always so eager for me. Even when you’re too wrecked to move.”

Tony nods faster. Eager, near-delirious.

Bucky must be able to see it, clear as day in his spellbound expression. His lips curve into a softer smile, and he lets out a shaky exhale. “That’s my boy,” he murmurs, more to himself than to Tony. And then he’s leaning back. Basking fully in his own pleasure.

He’s… ethereal. Lean muscle and a shimmering sheen of sweat. Bathed in the soft morning sunlight, he resembles something carved by Michelangelo himself.

He shudders, his entire frame taut and trembling like a bowstring pulled to its limit. His hand moves faster now, more insistent, the slick sound of his strokes drowning out his ragged breathing. His pupils are blown wide, the stormy grey of his eyes swallowed by a darkness that burns with desire, and his flushed skin glistens.

“Fuck, Tony,” Bucky groans, his voice guttural and broken, every syllable drenched in raw need. His gaze remains locked on Tony’s as if he’s drawing every ounce of strength and urgency from the Omega sprawled beneath him. “You do this to me. Every—fuckin’—time.”

Tony’s breath punches out of his lungs, utterly transfixed. He can feel the heat rolling off Bucky in waves, each one igniting something deep and primal in his chest. Every flex of Bucky’s forearm, every roll of his hips, every hitch in his breath—it’s all for him. Because of him.

Bucky’s movements become erratic, his chest rising and falling in desperate, uneven rhythms. His head tilts back again, exposing the thick line of his throat, and Tony can see his pulse thrumming wildly beneath the skin. His jaw clenches as a sharp, savage moan tears free, and his entire body tenses, muscles locking in place like he’s bracing for impact.

And then it hits.

“Shit—Tony—”

Bucky’s hips jerk forward, his breath catching in a low, broken sound as the first thick pulse of his release hits his chin. His hand slows but doesn’t stop, purposefully avoiding his knot, dragging every ounce of sensation from his body as his chest heaves with the force of it. The flush on his skin deepens, spreading across his neck and up to his cheeks as he groans Tony’s name, reverent and wrecked.

Tony’s eyes widen as he takes it all in, his gaze flickering between the blissed-out expression on Bucky’s face and the way his muscles ripple with every aftershock. It’s mesmerizing, watching the Alpha unravel like this, so open and unguarded in a way that feels almost sacred.

Bucky’s free hand digs into Tony’s thigh, his grip bruising as he comes, and comes, and it goes on seemingly forever as copious amounts of release jet across his chest, his stomach, dripping down past his navel and pooling to his thighs. He rides it out, moaning Tony’s name like a prayer.

When his hand finally falls away after what feels like minutes, his body sags slightly as he catches his breath. His eyes flutter open, and the warmth in his gaze when it meets Tony’s is enough to send a fresh wave of heat pooling in Tony’s chest.

“Fuck, baby, look at that,” he slurs, glancing down at the mess he’s made of himself. “All for you.”

Tony doesn’t think, doesn’t pause, doesn’t wait for the haze of the moment to clear. Scorching, he just reaches out, his palms sliding up Bucky’s bare chest, the muscles still shuddering with aftershocks, and hooks his arms around the Alpha’s neck. With a tug that feels more instinct than thought, he pulls Bucky down.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, and Bucky barely has time to brace himself before Tony’s lips are on his.

The kiss is messy, heated, and entirely uncoordinated. Tony can still taste the ragged breaths Bucky is fighting to catch, can still feel the lingering tremor in his Alpha’s frame as their mouths move together. It’s not perfect—Bucky is too unsteady, too drained—but there’s a raw, open tenderness in the way his lips slide against Tony’s, a kind of devotion that makes Tony feel like he’s being lit on fire from the inside out.

Bucky groans into it, low and throaty, his weight settling over Tony in a way that’s almost overwhelming. His chest presses against Tony’s, warm and sticky from the aftermath, but Tony doesn’t care. He wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck, holding him there, deepening the kiss until it feels like the only thing tethering him to reality.

“Doll,” Bucky rasps, breaking away just long enough to catch his breath, his forehead dropping against Tony’s. His hands, broad and steady, cup Tony’s jaw, his thumbs brushing reverently over his cheekbones. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Pretty sure you’ve got it backwards, after that performance art.”

Bucky chuckles, a low, satisfied sound that vibrates through his whole body. His head dips, and he presses a softer kiss to the corner of Tony’s mouth, lingering. There’s something unbearably gentle in the way his lips move there, as if he’s savoring every second, every inch of skin.

“You make me crazy,” Bucky murmurs, quieter now, as if the words aren’t meant to fill the space between them. His forehead presses against Tony’s, the bridge of his nose brushing Tony’s in a fleeting, tender gesture.

Tony swallows hard, his fingers threading through the damp strands of hair at Bucky’s nape, holding him close. The heat between them is still electric, still charged, but there’s something softer now, something that makes Tony’s chest ache. “Yeah,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I know.”

For a moment, they just stay like that—Bucky above him, Tony wrapped around him, the Alpha’s spend cooling between them as their breaths mingle in the heavy quiet of the room. It feels grounding, like the world has narrowed down to just this—just them. When Bucky finally tilts his head and kisses him again, slow and deep and consuming, it feels like a promise neither of them is quite ready to say out loud.

Bucky has to go to work.

It’s almost seven in the morning, and Tony would quite literally rather die than untangle himself from the Alpha.

Bucky shifts above him, his weight easing off slightly, and Tony tightens his arms around his neck in protest.

“Nope,” Tony says, muffled against the crook of Bucky’s shoulder. “You’re staying right here. Work’s canceled. World’s canceled. It’s you, me, and this bed until further notice.”

Bucky chuckles, his hand smoothing down Tony’s side in a slow, deliberate sweep. “Wish it worked like that, kid. Believe me, I do.”

“It does,” Tony argues, leaning back just enough to shoot Bucky a pointed look. “I’ve decided. Executive heat decision.”

“Is that right?” Bucky grins, his thumb tracing lazy circles against Tony’s hip. “Well, hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but my boss doesn’t exactly take orders from Omegas. Not even ones as cute as you.”

Tony groans, tucking his face back into the Alpha’s neck. “I’m devastatingly cute. I could charm a rock. Your boss wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Tony doesn’t need to return to school until Tuesday, officially, so it doesn’t require much arm-twisting from Bucky to convince him to remain in the apartment while he and Steve are gone.

Bucky sneaks out into the kitchen and returns with a warm washcloth, and Tony blushes profusely when the Alpha gently wipes them both clean.

“Don’t go gettin’ all shy on me now, gorgeous.”

Tony’s body feels heavy in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant, like he’s been melted down and poured into the mattress. Every limb hums faintly, the echoes of his heat simmering just beneath the surface, but the overwhelming fire has cooled to something manageable. He feels warm, almost boneless, as if he’s finally surfacing from days spent at the mercy of his own biology.

The ache is still there—a dull, persistent reminder that his body’s instincts haven’t fully let go yet—but it’s bearable now. His muscles are tired, stretched in ways they haven’t been in a long time, but they feel used in the best way. Thorough. Satisfied.

His skin tingles faintly where Bucky’s hands had lingered—his jaw, his waist, his thighs—like the Alpha’s touch has left a permanent mark on him. Even now, with Bucky moving around the room, gathering his things, Tony feels the absence of his warmth like a chill he can’t quite shake.

He watches Bucky with half-lidded eyes, too lazy to move but too entranced to look away. The Alpha is dressed from the waist down now, but his shirtless torso gleams faintly in the early morning light. His movements are efficient but reluctant, his jaw tight as he sets a glass of water down on the nightstand. Tony can see it in the set of his shoulders, in the way his hands linger over every task: Bucky doesn’t want to go.

The thought makes Tony’s chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with his heat.

“You sure you’re okay?” Bucky’s asks, rough with hesitation. He’s standing at the edge of the bed now, his cool-grey eyes scanning Tony like he might fall apart any second.

Tony snorts, letting his head loll to the side as he gives Bucky an easy smile. “I’m good, Buck. Seriously. Just tired. Go to work, contribute to society.”

The words are true—he is okay. The worst of it is over, and he’s coherent enough to take care of himself for a few hours. But there’s a part of him, buried deep, that wishes he wasn’t okay. That wishes he could use his lingering heat as an excuse to make Bucky stay, to keep him here just a little longer.

Tony doesn’t voice it, though. He knows Bucky would stay if he asked. Knows the Alpha would drop everything without hesitation to keep him company, to see him through every last second of this.

Still, when Bucky fusses—fills the glass after making Tony drink the whole thing, sets him up with a (third) pair of clean underwear—Tony doesn’t stop him. It’s sweet, in that achingly Bucky way, and Tony lets it happen because he likes it. Likes knowing that even when Bucky has to leave, he’s leaving a part of himself behind, a little piece of care that Tony can hold onto.

“You eat something while I’m gone, yeah? Kitchen is yours. Try not to set anything on fire.”

“Is that supposed t’be a joke about my cooking?”

Bucky lingers, his hands twitching like they don’t know where to go, and for a moment, Tony almost calls him back. Almost asks him to crawl into bed, to wrap his arms around him, to hold him just a little longer.

Instead, he reaches out, fingers brushing Bucky’s wrist as the Alpha turns to leave. “I’m fine, Buck,” he says, his voice gentler now. “I’ll go bother Steve until he has to leave. Go, I’ll be here when you get back.”

Bucky kisses him as he’s heading out the door. “Be good.”

“Sure. Always.”

Steve finds Tony shortly after that, sitting at the kitchen table, wrapped in Bucky’s clothes and Bucky’s quilt.

Screwdriver in hand. Fixing the toaster.

[okiedokrie]

Epiphany // Soft Porn (Prologue)

Summary: Joshua has always been comfortable with his sexuality and romantic orientation for as long as he could remember; he's straight, and monogamous. At least, that's what he thought. One day his bestest friend in the world starts exploring the possibility of seeing someone, a mutual friend, and well, Joshua realizes two things: He's not as straight as he thought he was, and he wants both of them.

Characters/Pairing(s): Hong Joshua x F!Reader x Yoon Jeonghan

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut (No smut in the prologue)

AUs/Trope info: Non-Idol!AU, Poly!AU, Strangers to Friends to Lovers,

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Just drinking and cussing

Rating: 18+

A/N: banners by @kwanisms

The warm lights of the restaurant with the alcohol made Joshua's face tingle. He's gotten a few drinks in with his best friend, Jeonghan, who's arguably in a worse state than he was.

“Joshuji, I met this girl at a friend's birthday recently. She's new to the area and I think you guys would click, she's really chill.” Jeonghan slurred slightly, head swaying and while his hair fell over his face.

“Really? Ah, you really know how to make friends in all places huh.” Joshua said, at least he thinks he did. He and Jeonghan notoriously cannot handle their alcohol, so he might've just slurred something incomprehensible.

From the way Jeonghan squinted and furrowed his eyebrows, it was clear that he was having a hard time trying to understand what Joshua was trying to say, still, he nodded as a form of ‘I don't want to think too hard lest my head explodes' gesture. He just laughed it off and hoped it was a joke.

Luckily for him, it was, and as he threw his head back sloppily, Joshua couldn't help but notice the way his long hair whipped off of his face, letting him get a better view of his friend's neck along with the drunken joy of his face.

Ah, he's so pretty. Joshua thought to himself, there's nothing wrong with appreciating the aesthetic beauty of your closest friend, right? It's okay for him to think he's absolutely gorgeous because he means a lot to him, right?

It's totally normal to want to date your bro if you were a girl, right?

I'd absolutely date him if I was a girl.

Totally normal thing to think about your best friend who just so happens to be drop-dead gorgeous. Joshua doesn't think too much about what that could mean; he’s lived 28 years without even questioning what type of people he's attracted to, and he's absolutely confident he liked women. If his hormonal teenage years of being provoked by big tits was any indication, he's completely confident about being into women.

What he didn't consider was the possibility of being into both.

But he's too out of it at the moment. Maybe if he remembers this when he's sober he'll explore the possibility more, but right now, he's content looking at the dopey, lopsided, lazy grin across Jeonghan's face.

Man, I love him… completely platonically!

The morning light bleeds through Joshua's curtains, the warmth of it hitting Joshua's face making his eyes flutter open. That wasn't the only warmth on him though, Jeonghan's sleeping figure was pressed against his chest, his head cradled in Joshua's arms. His shampoo invades Joshua's nose, the calming lavender prompting Joshua to take a deep breath of the scent.

Jeonghan stirs slightly, his arms around Joshua's torso tightening his hold on him, hand gripping the back of Joshua's sleep shirt with a groan. Joshua could feel the vibrations from Jeonghan's chest to his. Jeonghan nuzzles his face into Joshua's chest more, getting comfortable again.

This isn't the first time this happened; Joshua and Jeonghan have always been comfortable with each other, to the point that they'd move in together and cuddle regularly. Jeonghan claimed it made for a more fulfilling sleep, while Joshua is just happy to have Jeonghan close. He loves him, after all.

Completely platonically!

“Good morning.” Joshua murmured into Jeonghan's hair.

Jeonghan hummed in response, “G'morni… don' get up yet… ‘m still comfy…” he slurred, sleep still deep in his system, body heavy and maybe a little hungover from the night before.

Joshua chuckles at this, “I need to make breakfast for us, Hannie.” He said, threading his fingers through Jeonghan's hair to scratch his scalp. This motion causes Jeonghan to grin into Joshua's chest, his grip on his shirt relaxing. If Jeonghan was a cat, he'd be purring by now from content. 

They're broken out of their little bubble of comfort when Jeonghan's stomach growls in protest, his eyes snapping open, cheeks warming up in mild embarrassment from just how loud it was.

Joshua on the other hand, found it fucking adorable.

He pulls Jeonghan closer to his chest, the vibrations of his laughter on Jeonghan's cheek. His face flushes more, burying it into Joshua's chest with a whine.

“Please tell me you'll make breakfast soon.” He said, voice muffled by Joshua's chest.

“I'll make your favorite French toast if it'll make you feel better.” Joshua said, stroking Jeonghan's hair gently.

“Thanks bro.” Jeonghan said, finally releasing his hold on Joshua. He promptly gets up, stretching his arms and cracking his back, bare feet softly padding their way into the kitchen where he starts preparing to make breakfast. 

Jeonghan follows shortly after him, figure slightly swaying from his hangover, uneven steps thudding across the floor of their shared apartment. His furrowed brows and unpleasant expression shifted into a soft smile as soon as he saw Joshua's back facing towards him. 

Walking quietly to where Joshua was in front of the stove, Jeonghan placed his hands on both of Joshua's shoulders to peek over him, looking at the progress of their breakfast. 

Joshua smiles fondly at the sweet gesture, silently flipping the toast to finish cooking it. “Hannie, could you set the table? I think we still have orange juice in the fridge.”

Jeonghan only replies with a nasal hum, one of his many cute habits. He removes himself from Joshua's personal space and goes to check the fridge, taking the juice out to start setting the table.

Breakfast was served! They both sat down at their dining room table to enjoy it. 

“Hey Joshuji, I'm going out today to meet the new friend I made, do you wanna come with me?” Jeonghan asked with a mouthful of toast.

Joshua chews his toast slowly, trying to make some time in his schedule to go and meet with this friend Jeonghan keeps talking about.

“Sorry Han, I can't, I just remembered I have a doctor's appointment today, and with the clinic lines, it's gonna be a while.” He said after he swallowed his toast, picking up his glass of orange juice to wash it down.

“Aw, that's too bad, I had a feeling you guys would get along well. Maybe next time then.” Jeonghan continued to chew with a pout on his face, which Joshua found to be cute as fuck.

Stop pouting, you're too cute, I'd kiss that pout off your face if I were dating you. 

Wait, no, is that gay?

Nah, my love for him is completely platonic!

Joshua thought about that exchange with Jeonghan in their shared apartment for a while, and it easily took over his every waking thought as he sat in his car after his doctor's appointment, too distracted by confusing thoughts to start the car and feel safe driving it.

Was he trying to set me up with his new friend? Why? With the way he was talking about them, I'd assume he was into them. So why was he so adamant on introducing us?

That wasn’t really the issue plaguing him though,  it's the fact that the idea of Jeonghan dating someone is bothering him. Not that he's jealous or anything! It's just that, if Jeonghan starts dating someone else,  then he won't have as much time to hang out with him! He'll get homie-napped and pussy-whipped right in front of his eyes!

Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but it is still a very valid concern to have! Jeonghan is Joshua's- best friend. Best friend, platonic soulmate, his other- platonic- half!

They're planning to steal the platonic love of his life!

Oh my god- Joshua what the fuck are you thinking? Be normal!! Your all-in-one best friend, roommate, and soulmate can date people and you don't have to be weird about it! It's not like he hasn't dated before! 

Joshua groaned, slamming his head into the steering wheel causing the car to make an abrupt and loud honk. Joshua jolted, surprising himself, and sending an apologetic look at the lady pushing her stroller in front of his car who was also a little spooked.

God, I'm a mess, why can't I ever be normal about Jeonghan dating people? We're both adults for fuck's sake.

Joshua rubs his palms into his face, groaning a very long groan. The noise of frustration seemingly lasted for hours, at least to him, and his pertinent for dramatics.

Joshua was finally able to get himself out of his head, and he regained the capacity to focus on the road and drive safely, like a very normal, and very sane person. 

Don't think of Jeonghan. Don't think of Jeonghan. Don't think of Jeonghan. Don't think of- Turn left? Left???? Hold on what's left again? Fuckfuckfuckfuck-

Joshua ended up missing his turn and drove an extra 3 hours of shame in an attempt to get back to his original route, so in hindsight, maybe he still wasn't in the right state of mind to have been driving. 

The only silver lining was that his thoughts of Jeonghan were replaced by the desire to finally get home.

Joshua finally made it home in one piece,  though he noticed Jeonghan still hadn't come home.

No, no, bad Joshua! Stop! Stop thinking about him!

He shut his eyes tightly as he tried to navigate the apartment with his eyes closed, trying to push the intrusive thoughts of his pretty best friend from his mind.

Think of literally anything else, think straight thoughts! Women, females, tits, ass, vagina- ew no, I'm straight, not a douchebag. What kind of ass thinks of women as detached genitalia or something? If I just need to stick my dick into something; I have a fist and a fleshlight. 

Joshua successfully pushed the intrusive thoughts away by overthinking himself into an argument with fictitious misogynists.

Still, even when the thought of Jeonghan wasn't at the forefront of his mind, a sinking feeling still washed over him. Dread, maybe anxiety? Whatever it is, it's ugly, and Joshua hates feeling it.

Joshua wakes up in the middle of the night, body jolting at the realization that he accidentally fell asleep in his outside clothes. He sits up, squinting at the darkness of his bedroom, subconsciously reaching over to the left side of the bed further from the door, only to be met with cold sheets. 

Right, Jeonghan isn't here.

Joshua doesn't know when Jeonghan comes home, he feels a little guilty since he usually waits for Jeonghan to come home so they can do their night routine together. 

Joshua's California King-size bed feels a little too big for him now, too empty to be comfortable. It's not the safe place Joshua feels it is without Jeonghan.

Joshua only has the silence of night and the hug of moonlight to accompany him now, all he has the energy to do now is think. Think about just how much he values and depends on the constant that was Jeonghan in his life. Ever since he met him, fresh out of high school, new to the country. Through the culture shock of moving to the other side of the world, Jeonghan had been a steady rock to lean on.

Thinking was a dangerous thing for Joshua to do, forcing him to address personal turmoils that would usually disappear in the light of day.

Joshua is sure that he loves Jeonghan, but he can't help but explore the possibility of being in love with him.

It's not like he hasn't thought about it before, on other lonely nights like these where Joshua doesn't have the sound of Jeonghan's snores to distract him.

The constant hum of the air conditioning tunes out the sound of Joshua's breathing, and even under his comforter, it's cold. It's lonely without Jeonghan.

Isolation was never good for Joshua, especially if he was left alone with his thoughts. He shakes his head, throwing the covers off himself to make the journey to their kitchen. 

Isolation was never good for Joshua, so he seeks the company of a bottle of whiskey. 

He pours a bit in a glass, neat, not being in the mood to even get ice. He takes the bottle and his glass to the chair facing the floor-to-ceiling windows of their apartment. 

Moonlight lights up Joshua's face, highlighting every shadow over his face. He distantly thinks about Jeonghan again—if he saw Joshua right now, he'd scold him. He's not used to Joshua's way of coping by bleeding his emotions to the moon.

Maybe it's wishful thinking, or maybe it's a desperate prayer that was finally heard, but Jeonghan finds Joshua drinking near the window.

“I thought I told you not to drink alone, Joshuji.” Jeonghan said, sleep still in his voice as his feet pad on the hardwood.

“I know Hannie, I'm sorry, I've just been thinking.” He said, downing the rest of the whiskey in the glass before setting it down on the small table next to his chair.

Jeonghan wordlessly sat on the chair across from Joshua, scanning the shadows of his face. “What were you thinking about?” Jeonghan asked, leaning comfortably against his seat.

Joshua's eyes fell over Jeonghan's face, the moonlight casting a soft glow, skin shining pearlescent, the light creating a halo around his head.

His breath gets caught in his throat, he's beautiful. Angelic was the perfect word to describe how Jeonghan looked at this moment. Joshua remembers how his pastor back in church would describe these higher beings.

He fully believes Jeonghan was sent to him to look after him. There's no other reason for a man to look like “safety” and “security” to him.

Unless, of course, Joshua is in love with him.

“I'm thinking about us.” Joshua finally replied, after much thought, he knew hiding something from Jeonghan would only be more trouble than it was worth.

Jeonghan's back straightened, surprised at the easy confession out of Joshua, “Us? What do you mean by that Joshua?”

Jeonghan only ever uses his real name when he's serious, Joshua only shakes his head and smiles at him.

“It's nothing. But, you know I love you, right?” Joshua says, the word ‘love’ feeling heavy on his tongue.

Jeonghan's face softens, knowing Joshua isn't ready to talk about that just yet. Still, he answers, “I know, I love you too.”

Joshua's heart swells at the reassurance, smiling fondly at Jeonghan, his best friend. As he stands up to walk towards Joshua.

Joshua waits for Jeonghan's next move, patiently watching every delicate movement of his body, from the sway of his hair down to the rocking of the heels of his feet.

Jeonghan reached out to Joshua, cupping his face, the pad of his thumb wiping a stray tear from his cheek, not realizing that they'd started to fall. 

“You mean so much to me, more than you think you do, and I'm waiting for you. Find me when you're ready to talk.” Jeonghan said, moving Joshua's bangs away from his face, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

When Jeonghan moved away from Joshua's face, the light behind Jeonghan's head made a halo around him once more, reminding Joshua that solace was his soulmate.

[harrysarchive]

if only you knew, bunny: h.s.

pairing:

dormmate!harry x dormmate!y/n

summary:

"sorry! sorry i thought you were staying out with your mom the rest of the weekend!" harry says, rustling is heard in the background before im gentle moved to over and the door is heard opening. "you can open your eyes bunny."

warnings:

TW⚠️ body shaming

unhealthy relationship with y/n's mom (body shaming, controlling mom, just a shitty mom overall) also really short sorry i just wanted to tease these two

A/N: guys the way this has been in my drafts for about 4 months LMFAO lmk if you would want more dormmate!harry x y/n!

part two

y/n's pov

The smell of peppermint vanilla carries along with the scent of books, soft chatter from the tv carries out in the small dorm, i glance over at the empty bed and a frown tugs at my lips.

"guess im on my own." i huff closing my book and tossing it to the side.

as i pick up my phone a knock makes me still, i glance at the door before walking over to it and slowly opening the door. my eyes catch sight of a lovely shade of green staring back at me.

"um sorry," he clears his throat, "my names Harry, and i think we're flatmates."

my eyes widen at what he says before my eyebrows furrow, "um im y/n, i didnt think i had a dorm mate."

"yeah 'm sorry about that i was in england for the past month, so i couldnt do all the orientation." he shuffles his bags and i snap out of it before throwing the door open.

"apologies, um i didnt think they did unisex dorms here."

"i wasnt expecting this either this is um C36 right?"

"yeah yeah you're right, well welcome to your dorm Harry..." i trail off not knowing his last name hoping he'd fill in the blank.

"styles!" he smirks holding out his hand and I place my hand in his giving it a shake.

"oh my god! harry!" i squeak covering my eyes as i step into our shared dorm, a topless girl perked up on his bed.

"sorry! sorry i thought you were staying out with your mom the rest of the weekend!" harry says, rustling is heard in the background before im gentle moved to over and the door is heard opening. "you can open your eyes bunny."

i peak through my fingers and find our room empty, just the two of us. "i would've left har, you could've asked you know i dont mind." i mumble dropping my bags on my bed.

"nonsense i would rather spend time with you bun, though uh -if you dont mind me asking- why are you back so early?" he asked sitting us on my bed, i sit crisscross in front of him before tears start welding up in my eyes.

"god that woman is so fucking cruel to me har." i gasp out a sob as tears fall freely down my face.

"whoa bunny breathe for me." harry hums pulling me into his arms, broken sobs hiccup through me as i weep like a baby into harry.

"i do everything she wants, im trying to appease her and nothing is ever good enough it's either 'you look too chubby', 'you're face looks dull, use more moisturiser.' 'are you working out?' i'm sick of it!" i hiccup, "as soon as i got there she just starts listening all the things i embarrass her with. 'no daughter of mine should be in college, i got a nice boy down the street who comes with money and would love to be with you if you lost a couple of pounds.' i dont want that har, i've studied my whole life to be here. i want to be a librarian, have my own little bookstore that is where my happiness is and im not going to let her drag me down." i finish my rants tears and snot running down my face and into my hands.

harry stays quite for a little bit, rocking us slowly back and forth, i feel his lips press against my head before he lifts my head to look at him. he wipes away my tears before smiling lightly.

"you're a fighter, bunny. im proud of you, for not letting this woman take control of your life. for being your own goddamn person." he whispered to me before yanking me into a hug and tickling my sides, a laugh erupts from me before i start thrashing in his arms

"harry! stop!" i laugh before he lays on top of my the air literally being knocked out of me, "oof! you fat ass get off of me!"

"gasp! how dare you!" he gives me a cheeky smile before rolling off of me. "want to go get fro yo? on me obviously."

"ugh!" i fake displeasure rolling my eyes, "only because you want some and are paying sure."

harrys pov

i watch as y/n throws a hoodie over her head, i pull my bottom lip between my teeth looking at her legs on display, nice thick thighs and a ass that would make god sin. her face fresh with tears making her glow as bright as a star, a beautiful natural blush on her brown skin, lips plump.

a down right goddess.

"can we stop by a 7/11, momma needs some chips." she smirks pulling me out of thought as i burst into laughter.

"you're a clown!" i snort sliding on some shoes and grabbing my lanyard, i open the door for her and let her slide through, taking time watching her walk from behind before joining her.

" 'm so lonely i might take up that woman's offer with the boy down the street." she breaks the silence shoving her keys in her purse, my heart plummets.

fuck no.

"bunny you can do so much better than a man that will only want you if you lost weight." i sternly say and she snorts.

"well im waiting and theres no one in a 20 mile radius that would want me."

if only you knew bunny.

LOVE YALL REQUEST MORE BULLSHIT!!

-all the love,

em

xo🐝

[khristie16]

A Game On Red

about: two ferrari boys are madly obsessed with you, they do whatever it takes to keep their pr manager just for themselves. warnings: daddy kink, size kink, guys are toxic, reader is innocent, jealousy, kidnapping, primal play, cnc, smut, choking info note: if you’ve been waiting for the twisted wedding, there it is. This is the last part and I hope you enjoyed reading this short story, you’re free to let me know how you liked it, if you'd like something similiar, my requests box is open and I always read all of them, trying to work with time so I can provide what you want, love you all so much words count: 3K Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

After your desecration of the leather seats in the car, you collapsed into exhaustion as Carlos' arms comforted you. You lost the sense of time and surrounding. You’ve let them do whatever they please and you hoped just for a little bit of break, you had this deep feeling in your gut that you’re not gonna be definitely bored with them.

During the journey somewhere, you were slightly aware of your surroundings and the only thing that mattered to you was whether you had your boys around you. The rest you couldn’t bring yourself to care about. And this lead you to thinking of how this all is even possible, but you couldn’t come up with any good explanation and perhaps you didn’t want to know any. All your life you were in fear if you being good enough and doing good enough in the eyes of others. With them,…… you don’t have to feel that way, you don’t even think that way. All you thought about and knew was that you grew to them just as quickly as they grew to you, with the only difference being that they had been obsessed with you for a much longer time.

You felt something unfamiliar to your skin and your thinking has to come to an end. You could feel the soft material under your left hip and the wonderful scent wafting past your nostrils. You fluffed the scented thing more and fell deeper into sleep.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

“She's a sleepy head.”

“Indeed.”

You grunted softly on those voices that slowly woke you up and with gaining some consciousness you began to stretch your arms and legs. You were like a purring cat, satisfied with how well rested your body is. After a moment of orientation, you saw your rested yet still weak body lying on the couch, which to your surprise was more comfortable than your bed at home. And then it all hit you again because you saw boys behind the kitchen island standing with their backs to you doing something on the kitchen counter in front of them. You no longer payed attention to them and decided to take a look around and to your surprised, it was dark outside. Have you even slept?

“You've decided to finally wake up cariño?”

“Oh come on Carlos, she was tired.”

A sign left Carlos’s mouth only. This man definitely does not like any kind of weakness, even human weakness. Which is just right from him, half the time since you were kidnapped, all you could hear from him was an animal growl. The audacity of this man got you mad. But you knew it’d only invoked a reaction from him, a reaction that you couldn’t take this right moment, your body was still sore and you were glad for some chill time. Not being in the mood to add any kind of comment on him, you focused back on Charles.

“What are you doing guys?”

“Your favorite food cherie.”

“My-my what? Favorite food? How do you know which one is it?”

Carlos folded his arms and gave you a significant look. Like you are a little girl who kicked someone's little dog. It only took that little and you were embarrassed again. Yet you didn’t have anything to embarrassed about! Carlos was hitting your last nerve. You’ve never had a problem with anger of some sort, and since you got Carlos to know more, you went burning. Both from the pleasure and the anger. Yet you didn’t have any chance to show them, because all you did was running from them, from it.

“You think we want this with just anyone? Someone we don’t know anything about cherie?”

You moved your look from Carlos to Charles, leaving the previous thoughts behind.

“Guys I'm -.”

“Sh sh cariño.”

You snapped at Carlos. The audacity! You frowned your eyebrows at him and were prepared to call him out. But Carlos was at your side in a second with his finger in front of your mouth.

“We are no guys for you, baby girl.”

You blinked at him a few times and kept staring.

“And drop the attitude.”

You were sooo ready to fight back but Charles appeared by your side too, soothing your skin on your bare shoulder. You immediately relaxed under his touch.

‘‘Come on, let's eat and then we'll bathe you.’’

The warm feeling that spread through your body indicated that this is exactly what you want. You don't know how long you could last without some rest and Carlos never seemed to give you that rest. You were grateful for Charles being here.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

After eating and talking to boys, which reminded you of the old days when you were waiting together for the press and discussing whatever came to your mind right before they had to talk with the press, just enjoying the good company together, you were forced to forget for a moment of the overall situation in which you all found yourself. Even though the boys felt that way too, they were always thinking about what would come next and were incredibly excited. They knew what will to come. You were still their prey, and prey doesn’t know the plan of hunters. Therefore, as soon as you finished eating, they sped up the whole process and Carlos was  already carrying you in his arms to the bathroom. You laughed as a little girl and kicked your feet to the rhyme that was playing in your head. At that time, you completely let go of the world around you.

‘‘We want you to be perfect for it.’’

‘‘What for?’’

Carlos gently sat you down on the bathroom counter and went off to the side to find what he planed to use on you. Meanwhile, Charles walked up to you and smiled at you with his beautiful smile accompanied by his dimples. He lowered his eyes as he started caressing your thigh.

‘‘For the ceremony. When it's all over, I'd like you to get them pierced.’’

It took you a moment to understand what he meant. He helped remind you when his fingertips moved to your nipples, which still had the rings he had given you in the car. How long have you had them?

‘‘How long did I actually sleep?’’

‘‘The whole day.’’

‘‘What?’’

Charles chuckled at your reaction and stroked you all over your body.

‘‘Carlos was already getting impatient. Sometimes he can be a pretty pain in the ass, but it's only because he wants to have it confirmed.’’

‘‘What confirmed?’’

Charles still had his eyes downcast, so you plucked up the courage and reached  to touch his face. You laid your hand on his right cheek and he immediately gave you his gaze and seemed to melt away under your touch. His eyes went a little warmer as well. You swear you could get lost in them. And this was the first time you touched him with such warm intensity. You could get use to it.

‘‘That you are ours.’’

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

The boys bathed you and they left you in the next room afterwards. They told you instructions, something to the effect that there is something waiting for you on the bed. And that you should wear it. But the most odd thing they said was Pay attention to your instinct. You didn't quite understand that. But you left it without comment and walked away. The door immediately closed behind you and you heard the lock. You ran back to the door to find you locked in the room. Those fuckers! When conquering the door didn't help you, you decided to give it up and pay attention to your surroundings. A white dress was lying on the bed. The lace made them look like wedding dress. They can't possibly be serious. You took them in your hand to take a good look at them. The length could be halfway up your thighs and the neckline was lined with lace that looked a lot like a veil. You suspected that you wouldn't be strolling anywhere in these clothes on a clean laid carpet in woods, but that you would be running for your life and especially the freedom that the boys wanted to deprive you of now. But your emotions were conflicting. You did want it, because it was exciting for you, but was it the right decision? You slowly put on your dress and had the opportunity to look at yourself in the mirror. You looked like a perfect bait, again. The wind blowing through the open window reached you and you started to get goosebumps. And at that moment you remembered Carlos's words from yesterday exactly at the same moment you started to get cold, that you would warm up by running. And if they locked your door, the only way out was through the window. When you reached to the window and looked at the height of the jump, you hoped you could make it without injury.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You've been running for a while now, you don't even know where, but you knew that the further away from the house, the better. Ever since you hit the ground and your right ankle slightly protested against such a fall, you told yourself that the worst was over. But that was before you heard the strange noises coming from somewhere below you. When you felt a hand around your ankles trying to pull you down, you started screaming and running because right where you were standing was the basement. And basements are your nightmare, thanks to the countless horror movies you've seen.

In a dense forest you're running for your life. And for your freedom specifically. You knew what was coming, because sucking your clit in the forest wasn't the only thing they wanted to offer you. Or more so needed from you. Your white dress, which was a definite symbol of the wedding and marriage and being theirs as long as they wanted, once a symbol of love and happiness, is now torn, dirtied, and stained with tears. Your heart pounds like a drum in your chest, echoing the urgency of your escape. Twigs and brambles claw at your bare legs, leaving angry red marks.

You haven't heard them for a long time. But you knew they are close. They always are. But despite your exhaustion and the odds stacked against you, you refuse to give in. And so you continued on, the trees stopped being so dense and more light began to shine through them. You saw something in the open space in the distance that gave you hope. You ran even faster and found out that there was a cave with a lake underneath it. It would take you a long time to climb up, and most importantly, it is likely that you would fall. You don't have as much strength as you did in the beginning and pulling your tired body up made you forget about this plan for now. Hiding underwater was also a bad idea, now you needed to oxygenate your body and not stop breathing. You didn't know what to do so you went back to plan number one. You couldn't run no more. You had to risk something, and you'd rather fall and break something than voluntarily drown.

Your footsteps falter, and your breath comes in ragged gasps as you approach the rocky sanctuary. Your trembling hands fumble for a small, concealed crevice in the cave's wall. And so you climb on. It took you a lot of energy and most of the time you felt unconscious, as if someone else was doing the work for you. Whether it was the body itself or the mind, you were glad you climbed all the way to the top. On the final tackle you rolled to the side and rolled away from the edge, unable to believe what you had just accomplished. And that you didn't help yourself at all.

You were lying on your back with your eyes closed. You knew you had some time left, and if the boys didn't find you at all, you'd be here the whole time. But did you want to voluntarily freeze to death in a cave? No matter what you did, you needed boys for comfort. And you got yourself into it. If you refused to play this game yesterday. This sick game! But your career was at stake and you didn't want to lose it. You were so mad at yourself now that you didn't think it through. This is exactly what the boys didn't want, because you would reject them and negotiate that they can't threaten you. Unless they have something on you... As you were thinking, the wind changed direction and was now playing with your hair. Although cold, at least the gentle caress of the breeze forced you to relax your tense muscles. But something was wrong because you smelled something familiar. You opened your eyes with lightning speed and looked under the cliff to see if anyone was there. You didn't see anyone and you thought you were starting to have delusions. But your ears serve you well as you remembered.

‘‘Miss us cariño?’’

In disbelief, you slowly turned around to see the two of them sitting far away in the dark in a cave. Somewhere you didn't look. It means they were here long before you or you fell asleep for a while?

‘‘Guys.’’

‘‘Sh Sh, we do the talking.’’

Carlos came closer and the moonlight reflecting off the water illuminated his smile, a wicked smile that filled you with terror. You started crying, this was scary.

Charles appeared right next to him with a face you couldn't make out. You hoped you would at least find comfort in Charles, but he was now looking at you as if you had committed something heinous. Tears streamed down your cheeks. Both of them approached you while you sat curled up on the cold ground and looked down at them from under your eyelashes.

‘‘Beautiful…’’

The boys didn't mess with you. Carlos grabbed you by the neck and pulled you closer to his face.

‘‘If you have two rings from Charles, I will have those as well.’’

Carlos strangled you with such brutal force that you were sure he would leave his mark around your neck. While you were looking into Carlos's eyes with tears and difficulty breathing, Charles bucked your knees and you fell onto them. But it was much less pain than what you could have imagined would follow.

‘‘Don't worry baby girl. Daddies will also take care of you after. Now is now though.’’

Crying didn't help you, but it was the only thing you could do now. You were as if completely paralyzed and unable to resist them. Charles tore off your white dress and threw the piece of fabric away. Carlos finally let you go and you could breathe. Before you recovered, you were straddling Carlos' lap. His head was on the ground as was his whole body. Charles crouched behind you and began to caress you.

‘‘You're so wet cherie, again,... you like it.’’

You sobbed more and Carlos immediately grabbed you by the neck again. He looked into your eyes with that look and you knew you had no time left.

‘‘You will take us as a good girl you are.’’

You didn't have a choice and even if you did, you were very curious to see what it would be like. You had to finally admit that this wasn't just their fault, it was yours too.

Carlos gathered the bottom of his pants and pulled them out. The two boys didn't wait for anything. Carlos took you first and stretched you out and when he laughed out loud about the way you were struggling taking him, he pulled out and this time Charles drove into you. You were just a hole for them to use and they would use you exactly to their liking and there was nothing you could do about it, but you loved it. Carlos grabbed you by the neck and pulled your face closer.

‘‘Now you nicely go all the way down, because you're gonna need all the pleasure there is.’’

He had already pushed you back onto his cock and you gasped in pain as you felt Charles' fingers penetrate your ass. A moment was enough and Charles was conquering his cock in your other hole. You didn't know how much longer you could keep it up, but when Charles started to tease your nipples and Carlos your clit with his other hand, the sensations were so much that it all merged together and you could only feel your coming orgasm. You screamed for the whole round and the cave pushed your moans further into the ether. Your head was spinning and your vocal cords started to ache as well as every other opening in your body. You got carried away by everything you felt and surrendered to it.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You could smell the sweat, the mud, and the smell you knew so intimately. You slowly opened your eyes and felt yourself floating. Carlos carried you in his arms towards god knows where. You quietly said his teammate's name and immediately someone stroked your hair. You then kept your eyes closed and rested as much as you could. You no longer cared what would happen to you. Especially as long as the boys take care of you. And you hoped they would follow the promise.

‘‘Open your eyes cariño’’

When you slowly opened them, you saw Carlos, you in his arms and Charles next to you. You were all naked, dirty and sweaty. Like animals. But there was trust between you, or at least some kind of bond that brought you close enough that you felt safe with them. much more than ever with anyone else, even an ex-boyfriend.

A large ring spread around your neck and two rings in your nipples from Charles. Now you were marked from both of them. You looked into Charles's eyes and saw that he was proud of you. You smiled shyly at him and buried yourself deeper into Carlos' chest. As if you wanted to hide from their feelings. Carlos placed a kiss in your hair, which was the first time he had shown such tenderness, and you looked at him with wide wide, open eyes.

‘‘What are you looking at, you're ours now. You're mine now. And I treasure what is mine.’’

Charles stepped closer and turned your head towards him.

‘‘We are yours now, you can do whatever you want with us and we will do anything for you.’’

[meazalykov]

world champions

salma paralluelo x orienteer!reader (requested)

part two to this fic

summary: you're a world champion, and so is she.

authors note: sorry this request took so long 🥲 had to reorganize the request list so I prioritized older ones first, which is this one so here you gooo!

you stand at the start line, surrounded by the dense wilderness of norway, breathing in the crisp scent of pine. 

this is it—the orienteering world championship. every race, every map, every training run leads to here. nerves flutter in your stomach, but they feel good, grounding. your hands grip the compass and map, senses on high alert as you glance over the first checkpoint route. 

this is more than a test of physical stamina; it’s mental, too, a challenge that requires sharp wits, intuition, and endless focus.

though, there’s salma. 

a little smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you remember her words from that morning. 

“you’re gonna be incredible, baby. like, imagine yourself when you’ll be referred to as y/n l/n, world champion” she’d said, her voice low, serious.

“i mean, you’re always incredible to me. today, everyone else gets to see it too.” she'd tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, eyes soft, proud. 

it was that look of hers—the one that always felt like a warm embrace, like a promise that she was with you. 

now, the whistle blows, and all thoughts of salma, of anything beyond the trees and hills ahead, fade into focus. you spring forward, your legs carrying you over uneven ground, every step quick and precise as you weave through branches and brush, feet barely touching the earth. 

you keep one eye on your map, following each contour line as it rises and falls, marking ridges, streams, hidden dips in the land that only you know how to navigate as your brown colored shoes hit the ground. 

each checkpoint passes, one after another, with your muscles beginning to burn in that familiar, almost comforting way. you’re lost to the rhythm of it: breath in, leap over that log, breath out, slide down the slope, watch the compass, navigate the next turn.

 

time blurs as you move, every sense trained on the land, on the feeling of the map in your hand, the forest air cooling the sweat on your face. 

finally, you reach the last checkpoint, heart pounding as you sprint toward the finish line. faint cheers grow louder as you near the clearing, the crowd growing closer, shapes blending into faces. 

among them, you see her. salma. her gaze locks on you, her expression an echo of every race you’ve run, every late-night training session and early-morning start. you see the pride there, fierce and beautiful, and a surge of energy courses through you, carrying you those final meters across the line.

the crowd erupts, applause filling the air, and you pause, taking a moment to catch your breath, the reality of the win settling in. you’ve done it. 

you’re the world champion. 

salma is beaming, her eyes bright and just a little teary as she pushes through the crowd to reach you. the two of you meet in the middle, and she throws her arms around you, pulling you close. 

“i knew you’d do it,” she whispers, her voice thick with pride.

 

“you’re amazing, mi amor.”

you laugh, the sound breathless and joyous. 

“i... i still can’t believe it,” you admit, pulling back just enough to see her face. 

“i couldn’t have done this without you, you know?”

“don’t give me too much credit. this was all you,” she says, grinning. 

though, there’s a sadness in her eyes, a reminder of the goodbyes yet to come. she squeezes your hand, and you know what’s coming next.

“you’re leaving soon,” you say quietly, trying to keep your voice steady.

she nods, glancing at her watch with a resigned sigh. 

“i’ve got to get to the airport in an hour,” she murmurs, brushing her thumb gently over your hand. 

“australia está esperando.”

you bite back the ache in your chest, managing a small smile. 

“have fun at the world cup– show the world what you’re made of.”

salma chuckles softly, the sound both warm and a little bittersweet. 

“don’t worry. i’ll bring everything i’ve got.” she leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“text me as soon as you’re done here. i want to know everything, okay?”

“of course,” you say, savoring the feel of her, of this moment, one last time. 

“and, salma?” you meet her eyes, hoping she sees just how much you mean it. 

“you’re gonna be incredible, too.”

the press events and post-race interviews stretch on for hours, but finally, you’re alone. as soon as you’re free, you pull out your phone, firing off a message to salma: 

i did it!!

moments later, her reply pings back. 

like i said earlier, i am so proud, my love!!! you fucking did it!!!

it’s like she’s here with you, her pride and excitement wrapped around you, making you feel like the win is just a little sweeter.

a week passes by, filled with interviews, team meetings, and that inevitable lull after the high of victory. you keep up with salma through video calls, her face lit up on your screen every night as she talks about the intensity of training, the pressure of the world cup building around her. 

you hear the exhaustion in her voice sometimes, see the strain in her shoulders, but her smile is always there, unbreakable. she tells you stories about her teammates, about the way the stadium feels during practice because of the australian winter.

when spain reaches the quarterfinals, you know. you have to be there, to support her in the same way she’s always supported you.

after booking the ticket, you keep your plans a secret, not wanting to distract her. you arrive in australia just in time for the match against the netherlands, slipping into the stands, heart racing with anticipation as you wait for her to take the field. 

when the game starts, you can barely sit still, every pass, every tackle making your pulse race. then, as the ball lands at her feet, she’s off, a blur of determination and skill, weaving through defenders with that same focus you’d seen in yourself on that championship course.

she scores, and the stadium erupts, but nothing compares to the pride filling you as you leap to your feet, cheering at the top of your lungs, lost in the moment.

it’s after the game, in the thick of celebration and noise, that you let her spot you. as she glances up at the stands, her eyes land on yours, going wide with surprise before filling with the kind of joy that only she can express. she laughs, a shocked, delighted sound, and rushes over as soon as she can.

“how… how did you get here?” she asks, half-breathless, half-laughing, as you lean in for a hug.

“oh, you know,” you say, shrugging with a mischievous grin. 

“i went through security and got on a plane, sat down for 18 hours– and got a ride here!”

“shut up,” she says, smacking your arm lightly, her face breaking into a grin. 

“seriously, though, i thought you were stuck with press things back home. how did you manage this?”

you shrug, meeting her gaze with all the sincerity in your heart. 

“seeing you here? cheering for you? that’s worth any missed interview. i couldn’t miss seeing that goal you scored!”

her smile softens, her fingers interlacing with yours. 

“you’re really something, you know that?” she whispers, leaning close, her forehead resting against yours. 

“you’re the best.”

the world cup final arrives. the tension in the air is palpable, every moment stretching thin as spain faces england. 

you can barely breathe as you watch her on the field, each play intense, each shot precise. it’s a nail-biting game, every moment balanced on a razor’s edge.

finally, the final whistle sounds, and spain has done it—they’ve won the world cup. you’re on your feet in an instant, cheering, the pure joy overwhelming as you watch salma celebrate with her teammates. 

tears prick your eyes, your chest swelling with pride as you watch her lift the trophy high, her face lit up in pure happiness.

as the crowd is still cheering in excitement, she’s called to the front to receive the best young player award. cameras flash, capturing the moment as she holds up the award, her expression somewhere between awe and humbleness– yet triumph is in her eyes. you can barely contain your pride, your smile wide and unwavering as you watch her.

your girlfriend is a world champion, just like you were. nothing can take that away from neither of you. 

[edenesth]

Still You

Pairing: ex-bf!Wooyoung x fem!reader (featuring Yunho)

AU: office au (exes to lovers)

Word Count: 15k

Summary: Wooyoung and you unexpectedly cross paths as colleagues in a prestigious design firm. Years after a painful breakup, you're forced to confront your unresolved feelings while working together on a crucial project. Will you rekindle your romance and build a new future together?

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Dreamscape Inc.

The most prestigious design firm in Seoul.

You've dreamed of working here for as long as you can remember.

The sleek glass doors of the office parted with a soft whoosh, welcoming you into the polished lobby of your new workplace. The buzz of corporate life swirled around you, the air filled with excitement and the scent of fresh ambition.

Moving through the sea of strangers, your heart raced with a combination of anticipation and trepidation. You were excited to begin this new journey as a graphic designer in this firm.

With each step, the memories of your high school years felt like they belonged to a different lifetime.

But as you approached the elevator, your heart clenched, and your breath caught in your throat. There, just a few feet away, was a sight that you had never expected to encounter again.

His name echoed in your mind, a name you hadn't spoken in years.

Jung Wooyoung.

Your first love and ex-boyfriend.

Time stood still as your eyes locked onto his figure, frozen in disbelief. He stood there, as if conjured from your deepest memories, with a casual elegance that hadn't faded with the years. His dark hair, still tousled in that way you remembered so well, framed a face that had haunted your dreams for six long years.

For a heartbeat, you thought it might be a trick of the light, a mirage in your mind, but it was him—undeniably him.

His gaze was intense, his eyes penetrating yours with an intensity that felt like a thousand emotions, a million words unspoken. His once-familiar features were etched with the passage of time, but they were unmistakably Wooyoung.

Your heart, which had been pounding with anticipation a moment ago, seemed to seize, and for a split second, you felt it might stop entirely. A rush of memories flooded your mind—laughter in the hallways, stolen kisses in the park, and bitter goodbyes.

The joy, the pain, the love—all of it came rushing back.

The world around you faded into a blur, and it was just him and you, standing there in that dimly lit lobby.

"Oh hey, you're early!"

As you reluctantly tore your gaze away from the spot where your ex stood just moments ago, Yunho's cheerful voice brought you back to the present. He was the friendly HR recruiter who had interviewed you prior to your acceptance of this job.

Yunho extended a friendly hand and a warm smile, which you returned, feeling grateful for the timely interruption, "Welcome to Dreamscape Inc.," He said with genuine enthusiasm, "Alrighty, let us get on with your orientation then!"

You nodded, trying to shake off the lingering traces of shock and nostalgia, "Yes, thank you, Yunho."

As you stepped into the elevator with Yunho, you couldn't help but steal a quick glance back toward the lobby, hoping against hope to catch another glimpse of Wooyoung. But he had vanished into thin air, leaving you with an overwhelming sense of loss and confusion.

The recruiter noticed your distracted gaze and leaned closer, his voice lowering slightly, "Is everything alright?"

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to share a fragment of the truth, "I just... saw someone I used to know. It took me by surprise," His eyes held a knowing glint, "Ah, Seoul can be a small world sometimes. You never know who you might run into."

As the elevator doors closed and the car began its ascent, you wondered about the twist of fate that had brought you face-to-face with Wooyoung again. You knew it wasn't a mere coincidence, and deep inside, a sense of anticipation mixed with apprehension churned.

During the orientation, you did your best to push any thoughts of Wooyoung out of your mind.

The day was filled with introductions to company policies, team-building exercises, and discussions about upcoming projects. You tried to immerse yourself in the whirlwind of information, reminding yourself that you were on the cusp of your dream job at your dream workplace.

The past should stay in the past, and now, you should be focusing on your present and the promising future ahead.

As the hours passed, you met your new colleagues, exchanged contact information, and began forming the foundation of your professional network. The friendly and vibrant atmosphere at Dreamscape reassured you that you had made the right choice in joining this company.

Yunho proved to be a valuable guide throughout the orientation.

He introduced you to key team members and offered valuable insights into the company's culture and values. His cheerful demeanour and genuine support helped ease your anxieties.

Amidst the introductions and team-building activities, you made a conscious effort to concentrate on the present moment. You were determined to prove yourself as a talented graphic designer and to make a name for yourself in this competitive field.

As the day came to a close and the orientation concluded, you felt a renewed sense of purpose and excitement about your new position.

You were more than ready to embark on this journey of personal and professional growth. Thoughts of Wooyoung, though still lingering in the back of your mind, were overshadowed by the opportunities and challenges that lay ahead.

The past may have resurfaced unexpectedly, but you were determined to keep it at bay, focusing on the bright future that awaited you at Dreamscape.

A week had passed since you started working here, and life within the bustling design firm had settled into a rhythm of its own.

Thankfully, there were no signs of Wooyoung anywhere.

Perhaps he had been here merely as a client representing another company, or perhaps he belonged to a completely different department or division. Whatever the case, you were relieved not to have to work with him.

The thought of navigating a professional relationship with your ex-boyfriend, with whom you hadn't parted on good terms, was a scenario you didn't even want to entertain.

Things had been progressing smoothly in your new role, and you were already forming strong bonds with your colleagues. The camaraderie and support within your team helped you adapt to the fast-paced environment.

Work had yet to become overwhelming, allowing you to dive into projects with enthusiasm and creative energy.

Your days were filled with brainstorming sessions, design reviews, and collaborative efforts that fueled your passion for graphic design. As you engaged with your coworkers, you appreciated the vibrant atmosphere at Dreamscape, where creativity thrived, and ideas flowed freely.

In the evenings, you often found yourself attending team outings or joining colleagues for dinner and drinks, building not only professional relationships but also friendships that promised to extend beyond the office walls.

Life at the firm was becoming increasingly fulfilling, and you were reminded of the aspirations you had once shared with Wooyoung during your high school years. It was a bittersweet realisation that the dreams you had held back then were now taking shape in a different context, without him.

As the days turned into weeks, you grew more confident in your abilities and more at ease in your new environment.

The past, though it had momentarily resurfaced, felt like a distant memory, overshadowed by the opportunities that the present had to offer. You were on a path of professional growth, and the future was filled with promise.

With how smoothly things had been going, you were quite certain that you might never have to worry about the possibility of seeing or even having to think about your ex-boyfriend again.

Or so you thought.

As you sat enjoying your lunch break with Yunho and your colleagues, Jongho and Yeosang, in the bustling cafeteria, the excited voices of female colleagues from another department caught your attention. Their animated gushing and giggles filled the air, drawing the curiosity of your group.

With raised eyebrows, you exchanged knowing glances with your friends, wondering what could possibly have them so enthralled. Yunho, always the playful one, leaned in with a sly grin, "Well, well, well, it seems like I have some insider information." He teased, enjoying the intrigue he had sparked.

Jongho and Yeosang exchanged amused looks, their curiosity piqued, "Come on, Yunho hyung, spill the beans! What's got everyone so worked up?" The youngest prodded, feigning impatience.

The recruiter leaned in closer, lowering his voice for dramatic effect, "You know the new architect who recently joined our firm? The one who's causing quite a stir?"

Your heart skipped a beat as dread crept in.

Could this really be happening?

It was your ex's dream to become an architect, and you couldn't shake the fear that this popular architect was none other than Jung Wooyoung.

As Yunho negotiated a price with Jongho and Yeosang in exchange for the juicy intel, your mind raced with uncertainty and anxiety. The memories of your past with Wooyoung, the unresolved emotions, and the complicated history that still lingered between you both suddenly flooded your thoughts.

You tried to keep a composed facade, concealing the turmoil within.

The mere possibility that you might have to face Wooyoung again, not as a distant memory but as a colleague, sent shivers down your spine. You wondered if fate was testing you, forcing you to confront a past you had worked so hard to put behind you.

As the suspense mounted, Yunho finally leaned in to reveal the architect's name, and your heart hung in the balance, waiting for the name that could either confirm or alleviate your fears. The name hung in the air for what felt like an eternity before Yunho finally uttered it.

"It's Jung Wooyoung."

A gasp escaped your lips, though you tried desperately to stifle it. Your worst fears had been realised. The architect who had become the talk of the company, the one everyone was gushing about, was indeed your ex-boyfriend.

A flashback to eight years ago swept over you like a tidal wave, transporting you back to a time when your dreams were intertwined, and the world was full of promise.

The stars shimmered above like countless diamonds scattered across the vast canvas of the night sky. You and Wooyoung lay together on a soft, grassy field, your heads nestled on a shared pillow of dreams and ambitions.

His strong arm cradled your shoulders, and your head rested gently on his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat provided a comforting backdrop to your conversation, as if the universe itself were whispering its approval.

You spoke of your dreams, your voice filled with the unwavering determination that only youth could bring.

"I want to become a graphic designer," You said, your eyes tracing the constellations above, "I want to bring stories to life through art, to create something that moves people."

He brushed his fingers gently against your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"And I," He replied, his voice filled with conviction, "I want to be an architect. I want to design buildings that stand as a testament to human creativity and innovation, structures that inspire awe and admiration."

In that moment, under the canopy of stars, you shared not only your dreams but also your hearts. The world felt like an open canvas, waiting for you both to paint it with your aspirations and love. The possibilities seemed endless, and you believed that together, you could conquer anything.

But as time went by, dreams shifted and paths diverged.

The bond that had once been unbreakable was severed, and the scars of your past had taken time to heal.

Now, as you faced the prospect of working alongside the person who had once been your confidant and soulmate, you wondered if destiny was conspiring to reunite you and him.

Back in the present, Yunho noticed your reaction to the revelation about the new employee. He didn't pry or say anything to prevent Jongho and Yeosang from noticing your unease. Instead, he tactfully steered the conversation in a different direction, allowing you some space to collect your thoughts.

You stayed quiet for the rest of the lunch break as your colleagues continued to discuss Wooyoung's fame in the industry and expressed their admiration for his joining the company. It seemed that everyone was thrilled to have such a renowned architect on board.

You found it increasingly difficult to focus on their conversation, your mind a swirl of conflicting emotions.

After lunch, Yunho, understanding the need for a private conversation, walked with you towards your workspace. He looked at you with genuine concern in his eyes and finally broached the subject, "You know, I noticed your reaction during lunch, especially when we talked about Jung Wooyoung. Was he the person you mentioned seeing on your first day?"

You hesitated, feeling a mixture of gratitude for his concern and the anxiety of having to reveal your personal history with Wooyoung. Taking a deep breath, you decided to be honest, "Yes, Yunho. He's... he's my ex-boyfriend from high school."

He nodded understandingly, his expression sympathetic, "I see. That must be quite a shock to run into him again after all these years."

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper, "It is. We didn't exactly part on good terms, and I didn't expect to see him here, of all places."

Yunho placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, "I understand it might be difficult for you. If you ever need to talk or if there's anything I can do to make things easier, please don't hesitate to let me know." His genuine concern touched you, and you felt grateful for the support of a friend in this unexpected and emotionally charged situation.

In the days that followed the revelation of Wooyoung's presence in Dreamscape, you were trapped in a constant state of anxiety.

The fear of bumping into him in the hallway or, worse, having to work alongside him weighed heavily on your mind. It felt like an emotional rollercoaster, with every corner turned, you wondered if you'd run into the past you had tried so hard to leave behind.

During this challenging time, Yunho became your confidant and your pillar of support. After all, he was the only one in the company who was aware of your shared history with Wooyoung. The two of you often found solace during your breaks in the pantry, sharing coffee and conversation as a way to alleviate your worries.

On one of those breaks, you couldn't contain your distress any longer.

You sighed deeply and pressed your head into your hands, shoulders slumping with the weight of your anxiety, "What am I going to do when I eventually see him, Yunho?" You confessed, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Yunho, sitting beside you, instantly shifted to comfort mode.

He gently rubbed your back, a gesture meant to provide comfort in your moment of vulnerability, "I understand how difficult this must be for you," He said, his tone filled with empathy, "But remember, you're not alone in this. I'm here to support you, and we'll get through this together."

You looked up at him, gratitude shimmering in your eyes.

His unwavering friendship and understanding were a source of strength in the midst of your turmoil. With him by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope that you could face the looming reunion with Wooyoung, no matter how daunting it might seem.

And as if the universe had conspired to test your resolve, fate finally decided to bring your past into your present.

It was a moment you had been dreading since the day you found out he worked in the same company, and the timing couldn't have been more uncomfortable. Of course, he chose this particular moment when you and Yunho were so close to make his appearance.

The first indication of his presence came with the sudden clearing of his throat, a loud and deliberate sound that sliced through the air.

Your heart skipped a beat, dread gnawing at your insides.

Wooyoung stood there, just a few feet away, his expression unreadable but his eyes betraying a mixture of emotions. It was clear that the sight of you and Yunho together hurt him more than he had expected. Even after all these years, the thought of you being with someone other than him still held the power to inflict pain.

You swallowed hard, your voice failing you in that moment of unexpected confrontation. Yunho, sensing the tension in the air, also turned to face Wooyoung, surprised.

For what felt like an eternity, no one spoke, the weight of the past and the complexity of the present hanging heavily in the air. The reunion you had both feared and secretly hoped for had arrived, but it was nothing like you had imagined.

"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

As Wooyoung's voice broke the silence, Yunho slowly pulled his hand away from your back, the comforting touch dissipating like a fading dream. His discomfort mirrored your own, but he was quick to step in, attempting to diffuse the palpable tension in the air.

Yunho let out a slightly nervous laugh, his eyes flickering between you and Wooyoung as he tried to avoid an awkward confrontation.

"Oh, no, not at all," He said with a light chuckle, "We were just discussing some work-related matters. By the way, have you two met?" He then introduced you to each other, acting as if he wasn't aware of your past with the architect.

You and Wooyoung exchanged a polite nod and pleasantries, both of you carefully concealing the history that lay between you. It was an unusual scenario, having to pretend that you were mere acquaintances meeting for the first time, but it seemed like the safest course of action.

Wooyoung's gaze, however, remained intense, as if he was trying to read something in your eyes, searching for a hint of recognition or acknowledgement. But you kept your expression neutral, mirroring his façade of polite professionalism.

As the conversation shifted to work-related topics, you wondered how long this charade could last and what it would mean for your relationship with Wooyoung moving forward. The past was no longer a distant memory but a living presence in your everyday life, and you had to navigate these uncharted waters with care.

For your sake, Yunho kept the conversation short, wrapping it up quickly and informing Wooyoung that you had an important meeting to rush to. It was a graceful exit strategy, and you appreciated his efforts to spare you from the awkward encounter.

With a polite nod, you and Yunho left the pantry, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as he guided you out. As you walked away, you felt Wooyoung's gaze following your every step. His eyes bore into your back, and you sensed the weight of his unspoken words, the longing that hung in the air.

Once you were out of earshot, Wooyoung let out a quiet sigh, his heart clenching uncomfortably.

The desire to have a proper conversation with you, to ask how you had been for the last six years, to tell you how beautiful you still looked—it all weighed heavily on him. He missed you more than you could ever know, and he regretted the way things had ended between you two all those years ago.

As he watched you and Yunho disappear around the corner, Wooyoung wondered if fate had given him a second chance, a shot at redemption. But he also knew that healing the wounds of the past wouldn't be easy, and he would have to tread carefully to earn your trust once more.

Seven years ago, you had been on the cusp of adulthood, filled with dreams and aspirations for the future.

You and Wooyoung, once inseparable, had shared hopes of achieving those dreams together. But there was an undeniable change in him during your final year in high school, a growing distance that had puzzled and hurt you deeply.

The two of you had been so close, sharing laughter, dreams, and countless secrets. It was a bond that you had believed was unbreakable, forged through years of trust and shared experiences. But as time passed, his warmth and affection started to wane, replaced by an unsettling aloofness.

At first, you had brushed it off, thinking it was just the inevitable growing pains of young love. But the chasm between you continued to widen, bit by bit, like a silent storm on the horizon. You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when it had all begun to unravel, but you knew something had changed.

It wasn't until graduation day, a day that should have been filled with celebration and joy, that the truth came crashing down.

Wooyoung had taken you aside, away from the cheering crowd and the tearful farewells of your classmates. His eyes, once so warm and full of affection, were distant and cold. The contrast was stark, and it sent a shiver down your spine as you braced yourself for what was to come.

He cleared his throat, the sound hollow in the otherwise bustling background, "Listen," He began, his voice tinged with an unfamiliar detachment, "I think we should break up."

Your heart seemed to stop, the world around you growing hazy as the weight of his words sank in, "Break up?" You repeated the words, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze remained fixed on the ground, avoiding your eyes, "Yeah," He replied, his tone lacking the tenderness that had once been so characteristic of him, "I think it's for the best."

A wave of confusion and pain washed over you.

This wasn't the Wooyoung you had known for years, the one who had held you close on countless nights and whispered promises of a shared future. It felt as if a stranger had replaced the person you loved.

"But why?" You managed to find your voice, your heartache now mingling with a growing sense of betrayal.

He sighed, a heavy, burdensome sound, "Look, what we had... it was just puppy love. We're young, and we'll both move on easily. Trust me, it's better this way."

The words stung like a thousand cuts, each syllable a painful reminder of the love that had once bloomed between you, now discarded as if it were nothing more than a passing fancy.

You struggled to hold back tears, your chest tight with the pain of rejection and abandonment.

He never explained why he had grown distant or why he believed it was best to part ways. You were left with a gaping wound in your heart, the questions and doubts haunting you for years to come. You had assumed that he no longer loved you, that perhaps he was just falling out of love with you and didn't know how else to break it to you.

It was a moment etched into your memory, a wound that had never fully healed, and now, as you faced the possibility of a new beginning with Wooyoung at Dreamscape, it cast a long shadow over the uncertain future that lay ahead.

And just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, fate had a knack for throwing curveballs your way.

As you settled into your role and joined a new project team, the shock came when you realised that Wooyoung, of all people, was your project manager. The tension in the room was palpable, and the air seemed to crackle with unresolved emotions.

You did your best to act nonchalant and remain professional as you extended your hand toward him, a forced smile on your lips, "Thank you for welcoming me onto your team, Wooyoung." You said, the words carrying an undertone of politeness and nothing more.

He, too, played his part, shaking your hand and responding with a polite, "Of course, it's good to have you on board."

But beneath the veneer of professionalism, you both understood the complexities of the situation. The unspoken history between you hung in the air like a fragile secret, and you were acutely aware of the need to keep it hidden from your colleagues.

The potential controversy that could arise from your past relationship was something neither of you wanted to invite into your already complicated professional lives.

As the days passed and you and your ex-boyfriend were forced to work closely together on the project, you both made a conscious effort to push all personal feelings aside and focus solely on the task at hand. The office became a battleground of professionalism, where emotions were carefully masked and the past was buried deep.

But for Wooyoung, the facade of indifference and professionalism was a double-edged sword.

He couldn't help but wish that you would at least show some sign of emotion, whether it be unhappiness or anger. At least that would mean you acknowledged the shared history between you both. Instead, your ability to pretend as though there was absolutely nothing between you seemed to hurt him more than he would admit.

In quiet moments, when you both were reviewing project details or in meetings with colleagues, he found himself stealing glances in your direction, searching for any hint of the past in your eyes. He longed for a flicker of recognition, a sign that you remembered the love and pain you had once shared.

But your composure remained unbroken, and it drove a deeper wedge between you.

The silence between you both was deafening, filled with the words left unspoken and the emotions suppressed. It was a silent struggle, each of you grappling with the ghosts of your past and the desire for closure or resolution.

One afternoon, as the project team gathered in a meeting room to discuss the progress so far, Wooyoung was busy fighting an internal battle to keep his emotions in check. It was a challenging day with tight deadlines, and the room buzzed with the collective effort to meet them.

His attention, however, was fixated on you and Jongho.

You both worked exceptionally close together, huddled over a design, reviewing it meticulously. Jongho, known for his professionalism and respectfulness, offered his insights and ideas in a considerate manner, never overstepping boundaries.

But to Wooyoung, it felt like a dagger through his heart.

Irrational jealousy gnawed at him, and his chest tightened uncomfortably at the sight of you working closely with another person, even though he knew it was purely professional. It was a jealousy born of a deep longing and a desire to be the one by your side, sharing those moments of collaboration and connection.

As he observed you and Jongho, his thoughts swirled with frustration and regret. He wished, more than anything, that you would ask him why he had chosen to break up with you all those years ago. At least then, he would finally get the chance to explain his side of the story, to offer the apology he knew you deserved.

But the walls between you both remained stubbornly intact.

The past was a fragile subject, one that neither of you dared to breach. It was a tormenting silence, filled with unspoken words and the desire for resolution, that hung heavily in the room.

Hours later, when you stepped out of the meeting room alone, heading towards the printer to retrieve a few documents, Wooyoung saw it as his chance to finally speak with you. He understood that it wasn't the most professional setting for such a conversation, but he also knew that opportunities like this were rare and precious.

Determined to seize the moment, he discreetly followed you through the quiet corners of the office, his footsteps echoing softly in the empty hallway. When he finally caught up to you, his presence was as sudden as a whispered secret.

You turned, and the surprise on your face was palpable as you realised you were alone with him, far away from the prying eyes of your colleagues. The awkwardness in the air was thick, a stark reminder of the emotional chasm that had grown between you over the years.

Your eyes met briefly, but you immediately looked away, unable to sustain the intensity of the gaze. The silence hung heavy, and it was a stark contrast to the joyful moments you had once shared together.

Wooyoung felt a tightening in his chest as he watched you, noticing how uncomfortable and guarded you appeared.

He missed the days when your smile would light up a room and when you would beam with joy in his presence. The realisation hit him like a wave; he had played a significant role in creating this distance between you both, and there was no one else to blame but himself.

With a deep breath, he knew he had to break the silence, to bridge the gap that had grown between you. But the words remained trapped on his lips, the weight of his unspoken apologies and regrets weighing him down.

Desperate to put some distance between you and your ex, you swiftly collected the papers from the printer, your heart pounding loudly in nervousness. Every instinct told you to walk away, to leave this uncomfortable situation behind, but fate had other plans.

As you moved to exit the area, he intentionally positioned himself in your path, blocking your way.

Your heart sank, and your mind raced with questions.

What could he possibly want from you now, after all these years? He was the one who had left you, who had chosen to end what you once shared. So, why was he suddenly resurfacing in your life?

Sighing deeply, you mustered all the politeness you could, your voice tinged with impatience, "Wooyoung, please, move aside."

But to your surprise and growing discomfort, he refused to budge.

When you attempted to push past him, he shocked you by grabbing your shoulders, his grip firm but not aggressive, making you look into his eyes. His gaze bore into yours, and the intensity of his words sent a shiver down your spine.

"Are you going to act like this forever?" He asked, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and vulnerability, "Like nothing ever happened between us?"

The anger surged within you, a tempest threatening to break free from its confines. With great effort, you fought to keep it in check, a silent reminder that you were at work.

Your jaw clenched, and you met his gaze with a steely resolve.

In a quiet but firm tone, you asked, "How dare you ask me that? Did you forget that you were the one who insisted on there being nothing between us? Don't start acting like I was the one who hurt you."

Pain was etched across Wooyoung's face as he attempted to reach for your hand, a desperate plea for understanding.

His fingers brushed the air as you pulled away, stepping back to put some physical and emotional distance between you both. The tears welling in his eyes were painful to witness, but in that moment, you couldn't bring yourself to comfort him. After all, he was the one who had left you wounded and wondering for years.

With a voice that trembled with regret and sorrow, he began to apologise, his words coming out in a broken tone. He wanted to seize this opportunity to finally reveal why he had grown distant and the circumstances that led to your heartbreaking breakup.

But before he could say more, fate intervened.

Unbeknownst to both of you, Yunho had been passing by and had spotted you cornered by your ex. The uncomfortable expression on your face did not go unnoticed, and Yunho contemplated for a moment before deciding to come to your rescue.

The recruiter approached with a sense of urgency, his voice carrying a tone of concern as he called out your name.

"Hey, I've been looking for you regarding that claim you submitted." He said, creating a plausible excuse related to HR matters. His presence was a welcome distraction, breaking the tense atmosphere that had enveloped you and Wooyoung.

You breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for Yunho's timely intervention. It provided you with an excuse to disengage from the emotionally charged conversation and averted a potentially painful confrontation.

Wooyoung stood there, a mix of frustration and regret swirling within him, as he watched you follow Yunho down the hallway. He cursed himself under his breath, the bitter taste of missed opportunity gnawing at him once again. He knew he had failed to provide you with the explanation and closure you deserved.

With a heavy sigh, he retreated to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect himself. He couldn't shake the feeling of bitterness at your absence, his regret weighing him down as he replayed the missed chance over and over in his mind.

When he returned to the meeting room, he found Jongho still there, diligently working on the project. The expression on his face must have revealed his inner turmoil because the youngest looked up and asked, "Everything okay?"

Wooyoung nodded, forcing a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "Yeah, just some personal matters to attend to." He replied, though he felt a pang of jealousy at how close you seemed to be growing to Yunho.

He knew he had no right to be upset about it.

After all, he was no longer your boyfriend; he was just the douchebag who had hurt you when all you wanted was to be with him.

As he returned to work, he couldn't shake the sense of unease that had settled within him. The encounter with you had opened old wounds and stirred up emotions he had long tried to bury. Now, as he faced the consequences of his past actions, he wondered if there was any hope for redemption and forgiveness at all.

In the days that followed, Wooyoung tried his hardest to find opportunities to speak with you alone. The weight of the unresolved conversation gnawed at him. He knew he had a lot to answer for, and he was determined to make amends.

But it quickly became evident that you were adamant about avoiding him like the plague. You kept your interactions with him strictly professional, speaking to him only when necessary and making a hasty escape from his presence the moment your involvement was no longer required.

It was clear that you had no interest in rekindling any form of personal connection with him.

Recognising the boundaries you had set, he decided to respect your wishes. He understood that he had hurt you deeply, and he had no right to force himself back into your life. The pain of your separation had been his doing, and he couldn't change the past. So, he gave you the space you needed, even if it meant leaving you alone.

As he watched you from a distance, he felt a profound sense of regret and sorrow.

He knew he had made mistakes, and he couldn't undo the past. But perhaps, in time, he could find a way to make amends and rebuild the bridges he had burned. Until then, he would continue to silently bear the weight of his past actions, hoping for a chance at redemption.

Weeks turned into months, and the distance between you remained.

The workplace had its own rhythm, and you both settled into your roles within the company, maintaining a professional demeanour in each other's presence.

He had resigned himself to the fact that you had moved on, and he had no choice but to respect your boundaries. He watched as you thrived in your role, your talent as a graphic designer shining through in your work. It was clear that you had found your place within the company and were flourishing.

In his own way, Wooyoung tried to do the same.

He dedicated himself to his role as an architect, pouring his energy into designing innovative structures and contributing to the company's success. Despite his professional accomplishments, there was an emptiness that lingered, a sense of unfinished business that weighed on his heart.

While you both had managed to coexist in the same workplace without any overt conflicts, there were moments when your paths crossed, and the unspoken history hung heavily in the air.

Each encounter was a reminder of the past, of the love and pain you had once shared.

As time passed, you sometimes wondered if there would ever be a chance for the two of you to find closure. The thought of reopening old wounds was daunting, but you couldn't deny the curiosity about what Wooyoung might have to say after all these years.

The team-building activity at the famous creek retreat on the outskirts of the city had everyone away from the office for a couple of days. It was a chance to bond with colleagues and build better working relationships, but for you and Wooyoung, it meant being stuck in the same van during the journey to the location.

By this point, you had both grown accustomed to each other's presence and the unspoken tension between you.

Wooyoung occupied the front passenger seat, while you ended up sandwiched between Yeosang and Jongho in the middle row. The initial jokes and laughter that had filled the van gradually faded, leaving a comfortable silence in its wake.

As the rhythmic hum of the van's engine filled the air, you succumbed to weariness, your head hanging uncomfortably as you drifted into an unplanned nap.

But your ex couldn't just sit by and do nothing when he noticed your head drooping uncomfortably.

He threw a disapproving glare at Yeosang, who was still awake beside you, gesturing for him to help you find a more comfortable position. Yeosang obeyed instantly, and carefully adjusted your head, allowing you to rest more comfortably.

In a gentle and almost instinctive gesture, Wooyoung removed his own jacket and carefully draped it over your hunched figure.

It was a small act of care and warmth, a reminder of the time when he used to take care of you in more ways than one. In that moment, as you slept soundly, he allowed himself to reminisce about the past and the love that had once bound you together.

The van journey continued, the landscape outside passing by in a blur, while inside, a sense of nostalgia and longing hung in the air, and for Wooyoung, a quiet longing to care for you, even if it was only in these fleeting moments when you were unaware.

Excitement bubbled within you as the van finally arrived at the retreat, and the sight of Yunho waiting for everyone only heightened your anticipation. You rushed up to him with giddy enthusiasm, your energy infectious as you exchanged a high-five with the tall recruiter.

Yunho, always the gentleman, made a move to grab your luggage from the trunk, his intention to help you take it to your room clear in his actions. He smiled warmly, ready to assist you in any way he could. But just as his hand was about to reach your luggage, something unexpected happened.

Wooyoung, who had been observing from a distance, suddenly stepped in and swiftly grabbed your luggage, his actions asserting his presence with a possessive undertone.

You froze, a mix of surprise and discomfort washing over you as you realised what was happening.

It was evident that your ex's possessiveness was beginning to surface, and he muttered under his breath, "I'll do it. She's in my team after all; I should be the one to take care of her."

The unexpected tension between Wooyoung and Yunho escalated as both men refused to back down. You had thought Yunho would step aside amicably, given his typically easygoing nature. But he surprised everyone by firmly gripping the luggage, refusing to let it go.

"No, it's fine," Yunho asserted with a determined look, "I am the one who recruited her, after all. By right, I should be the one taking care of her better than anyone."

The atmosphere grew increasingly charged as the two men seemed locked in a silent standoff, each wanting to assert their claim over the situation and their desire to take care of you.

Sensing the tension, Jongho and Yeosang quickly stepped forward to diffuse the situation.

Jongho, with a playful grin, stepped between Wooyoung and Yunho, pushing them apart gently. He then grabbed your luggage with a confident air, "Oh, step aside, you two. I should be the one to handle the heavy lifting. After all, I'm the youngest and strongest here."

With that, the tension in the air began to dissipate, and you chuckled at the unexpected turn of events.

It seemed that your colleagues had a knack for turning potentially awkward situations into light-hearted moments, reminding everyone that this team-building retreat was meant for bonding and camaraderie.

Wooyoung, realising the embarrassment of his own actions at that moment, decided to feign nonchalance, offering a brief, somewhat awkward smile before he hurried off to settle down in his own room. It was clear that the situation had caught him off guard, and he needed some time to collect his thoughts.

Yunho, on the other hand, walked you to your room.

The earlier tension now replaced by a more relaxed atmosphere.

As you both made your way, you couldn't help but ask Yunho why he had fought back against Wooyoung's attempt to help you with your luggage. He seemed to be struggling to find the right words, and there was a moment of silence before he finally replied.

"I just... wanted to protect you from him."

He admitted, his voice tinged with sincerity. It was a straightforward response, but there was a hint of something more beneath the surface.

You assured him that Wooyoung would never do anything to hurt you, your words meant to put his concerns to rest. But instead of feeling reassured, Yunho felt slightly bitter. It was as if your defence of your ex-boyfriend had struck a chord with him.

Unbeknownst to Yunho, his feelings for you might have been a little more than platonic.

The protective instinct he had shown earlier had surprised even him, leaving him to grapple with emotions he hadn't fully understood or acknowledged. As he stood with you outside your room, a sense of inner turmoil lingered, and the retreat had already taken an unexpected turn for him, one that would leave him questioning his own feelings in the days to come.

The day at the retreat continued with a series of team-building activities and games designed to strengthen your teamwork and bond with your colleagues.

Unfortunately, you found yourself paired with Wooyoung for most of the day, given that you were in the same team. But it was through these games that you began to let your guard down around him, even if it's only just a bit.

As the two of you were selected to represent your team in a treasure hunt, you felt a mix of nerves and excitement. The task ahead required you both to focus solely on the challenge at hand, putting aside any personal history or unresolved feelings.

With a shared goal in mind, you and Wooyoung worked together closely, determined to solve the puzzles and riddles that would lead you closer to the treasure. There was a surprising ease to your interaction and a sense of teamwork that transcended the complicated past you shared.

As you ventured through the retreat grounds, following clues with him, you realised that, for the first time in a long while, you were able to enjoy each other's company without the weight of your history hanging over you. The laughter and excitement that accompanied each discovery allowed you to momentarily forget the tension that had defined your interactions at work.

The treasure hunt had eventually taken you along a winding trail through the retreat's serene surroundings, and as you both took a well-deserved break on one of the wooden benches along the path, a sense of ease settled over you both.

He flashed a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with a hint of the playful banter you had once shared.

"You know," He said with mock seriousness, "I thought a decade apart might have improved your riddle-solving abilities, but I guess some things never change."

You scoffed at his comment, leaning back on the wooden bench.

"Oh please," You retorted, a twinkle in your eye, "You should talk, Mr. Impatient. You've always been so quick to jump to conclusions. Remember that time we got stuck in that escape room and you nearly dismantled the whole place trying to find the way out?"

Wooyoung's laughter rang out, and he shook his head, clearly recalling the memory.

"Okay, fair point," He conceded, his expression softening as he allowed himself to reminisce about the past, "But in my defence, I was just trying to impress you with my problem-solving skills."

As your laughter filled the air, he stared at you as if you were the most captivating sight he had ever seen. At that moment, the realisation hit him like a lightning bolt: he missed you like crazy, and he regretted walking away from you all those years ago.

The years apart had allowed Wooyoung to mature and reflect on his actions, and he now understood the depth of his feelings for you.

As he watched you laugh and joke with him, he wondered if there was a chance to make amends, to rebuild what had been lost, and to finally give voice to the apologies and explanations he owed you.

Your ex contemplated using the moment of levity to broach a more serious conversation, to finally address the unresolved issues from your past. He opened his mouth to speak, ready to say those words that had been lingering on his mind for so long, "Listen, I—"

But before he could utter another word, his attempt was abruptly interrupted by the unexpected presence of Yunho.

The recruiter had a knack for appearing at just the wrong times, and this instance was no exception. The recruiter approached you both, his expression was carefully neutral, though an undercurrent of unease flickered in his eyes as he observed the two of you conversing like old friends.

With a teasing grin, Yunho playfully chided, "Excuse me, are you actually slacking off right now?" You immediately sprang to your own defence, "As if! We were just taking a short break!"

The banter between you two becoming second nature.

But Wooyoung's reaction to your interaction with Yunho was far from casual. He couldn't hide his irritation, and his patience had run thin.

In a bold move, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, a possessive gesture that sent a clear message, "Thank you for your concern, but we have a journey to continue on." With a gentle yet firm tug, he pulled you away from the taller male.

As he led you down the path, his grip on your wrist gradually loosened, and he found himself grappling with the tension that had resurfaced in the wake of Yunho's interruption.

It seemed that the conversation he had hoped to have with you would have to wait for another time, and the retreat had once again taken an unexpected turn, leaving all three of you with unanswered questions and unspoken feelings.

Walking alongside Wooyoung, you were aware of the tension between him and Yunho that had been growing throughout the day, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt.

It felt like their constant battles were, in some way, a result of your presence and the unresolved emotions between you and your ex. You wished you could find a way to alleviate the tension and make things easier for everyone involved.

At the same time, you couldn't deny the unexpected warmth that had enveloped you since rekindling your friendship with Wooyoung.

The day had reminded you of how much you missed his goofy personality and his ability to make you laugh. It was a feeling you hadn't fully realised until now, and you wondered how different things might have been if only you had remained friends all these years.

As evening fell and the group gathered for dinner, the atmosphere had mellowed, and you all enjoyed hotpot together.

Wooyoung made it a point to sit beside you, and as he cooked, he paid special attention to preparing your favourite food just the way you liked them. It was a gesture that felt oddly familiar, and for a moment, it transported you back in time. You smiled as you watched him, reminded of how he used to take charge of your meals because he was the better cook between the two of you.

At this moment, with the delicious aroma of the hotpot filling the air and his playful banter accompanying it, it felt as though you were back in those simpler times, a time when your bond was unburdened by the weight of the past.

As the complex dynamics between you, Wooyoung, and Yunho continued to unfold, it became apparent to the rest of your colleagues that something unusual was happening.

Yeosang had taken the opportunity to fill Jongho in on the events that transpired during the car ride to the retreat, explaining how Wooyoung had taken special care of you when you were asleep and how he had displayed a level of familiarity with you that was hard to ignore.

Jongho nodded thoughtfully as he absorbed this information.

"I always thought there was something different about the way Wooyoung hyung looked at her," He remarked, his brow furrowing slightly, "It's almost like they knew each other before coming to work here. And I'm pretty sure Yunho hyung knows something we don't."

Your colleagues might not have the full story, but they were observant enough to sense that there was more to the interactions between the three of you than met the eye.

As the days at the retreat unfolded, Yunho observed the interactions between you and Wooyoung with a quiet demeanour.

He fought hard to maintain a neutral expression, not wanting to reveal any signs of his inner turmoil. Despite his efforts, he couldn't deceive Jongho and Yeosang, who were growing increasingly perceptive to the underlying tension.

The two exchanged knowing glances whenever they noticed Yunho observing the two of you closely. They had their own suspicions about the complicated dynamics at play but chose to remain silent, not wanting to intrude on a situation that seemed to be filled with unspoken emotions and unresolved history.

On one of the restless nights during the retreat, you found yourself tossing and turning in your room, unable to find the peace needed to fall asleep. Frustration mounting, you made the impulsive decision to take a quiet walk around the safe surroundings of the retreat.

The night was serene, and the cool breeze provided a momentary respite from the turmoil of your thoughts.

As you wandered through the moonlit paths, you stumbled upon Wooyoung, sitting alone on one of the benches, gazing up at the vast night sky. His silhouette seemed so familiar yet distant, and you hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to disturb his solitude.

Just as you turned to leave, he softly called out to you, "Stay with me." His voice carried a pleading whisper. Unable to resist the pull, you retraced your steps and settled down beside him.

Your heart skipped a beat when you felt him lean his head gently on your shoulder. In the silence of the night, the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the faint chirping of crickets. You could sense the tension and emotions swirling around the two of you.

Breaking the silence, he asked the simple question that had been on his mind, his voice barely above a whisper, "Why are you here?"

You sighed softly, your gaze fixed on the starry sky, "I couldn't sleep," You admitted, your voice equally hushed. He nodded, "Yeah, I'm here for the same reason," You furrowed your brows at the revelation, "Why can't you sleep? You've never been one to suffer from insomnia."

A moment passed before he finally confessed, "Because I can't stop thinking about you."

Your heart raced as Wooyoung moved to take your hands in his, gently turning you to face him. The vulnerability in his eyes was undeniable, and it was clear that he had been waiting for this moment, a moment free from interruptions or distractions.

The weight of unspoken words hung heavily in the air, and you knew that this was the time to finally have that conversation.

He began by addressing the question that had haunted you both for years, "I want to talk about why I grew distant and why I eventually broke up with you back then."

You nodded, your eyes locked onto his, urging him to continue.

He took a deep breath before delving into his past, a past filled with insecurities and misguided advice.

"I spoke to my brother about my dreams, about wanting to become an architect," He explained, his voice tinged with regret, "At the time, my brother was heartbroken from his own breakup, and he... he told me that love would only hold me back from reaching my full potential."

His confession hit you like a wave of emotions.

It was the answer you had longed for, the missing piece of the puzzle that had haunted your memories for years. You listened intently as he continued, his voice trembling with the weight of his confession.

"He told me that if I wanted to be successful in the future, I would have to... to get rid of you."

The revelation was bittersweet.

It was painful to hear that his decision to distance himself from you had been influenced by such misguided advice, but it also provided a semblance of closure, a glimpse into the reasons behind his actions all those years ago.

As you absorbed his words, you felt a mix of emotions—anger, sadness, and, surprisingly, a glimmer of understanding.

Wooyoung's voice was filled with genuine remorse as he continued, "I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for everything, for believing my brother's words and letting them dictate my actions. I was such a fool."

You listened intently, your own emotions swirling as he spoke.

"Wooyoung, it was so hard for me too," You admitted softly, "I couldn't understand why you were pulling away, why you seemed so distant. It felt like you were slipping through my fingers."

He lowered his head, his voice trembling as he continued, "I know, and I regret it more than anything. I never wanted to hurt you, but I thought it was the right thing to do at the time."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to gently touch his cheek, "We were both so young and confused," You whispered, "And we made mistakes. But it's in the past now."

He nodded, his gaze meeting yours once more, "It's taken me so long to realise how wrong I was," He admitted, his voice heavy with regret, "I should have fought for us, not pushed you away."

You gave him a small, understanding smile, "Sometimes we have to go through pain and regrets to truly appreciate what we had. I've learned from it too."

As the night breeze rustled the leaves around you, he took a deep breath, his eyes locked on yours, "Thank you for listening, for giving me a chance to explain," With a heartfelt sigh, you replied, "And thank you for being honest with me. It means a lot."

The weight of the past began to lift, replaced by a sense of understanding and a glimmer of hope for the future.

In that quiet moment beneath the starlit sky, you both realised that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance to heal old wounds and build something new together.

After the retreat, life at work settled into a new rhythm.

The weight of the past that had lingered between you and Wooyoung had finally been lifted, and you found yourselves getting along better than ever. The resolution of your past issues created a sense of understanding between you, allowing you both to focus on the present and the potential for a future together.

But Wooyoung knew that winning you back wasn't going to be easy, even with your forgiveness.

He understood that the presence of Yunho, who had inserted himself into your life in various ways, posed a strong competition. Observing Yunho's efforts to be close to you, your ex realised that he needed to step up his game if he didn't want to lose you to his rival.

Wooyoung was determined to show you that he had changed, that he was ready to make amends for the past and fight for a second chance at love. He knew it wouldn't be a simple task, but he was willing to put in the effort, knowing that you were worth every ounce of it.

As the days went by, he subtly began to make his presence felt in your life once more, finding opportunities to spend time with you and rekindle the connection that had once been so strong. He was committed to proving to you that he was ready to be the partner you deserved, hoping that you would see the changes in him and consider giving your relationship another chance.

The weeks leading up to the project deadline had turned into a gruelling and relentless cycle for you and your team. The pressure was relentless, and you had all been caught in a never-ending loop of work, eat, and sleep—or lack thereof.

As a perfectionist, you held yourself to incredibly high standards. You constantly pushed the boundaries of your abilities, striving for perfection in every detail of your work.

This relentless pursuit of excellence had taken a toll on your well-being, particularly your sleep. Your colleagues might have been unaware of the extent of your exhaustion, but you were all too aware of the sacrifices you were making.

One afternoon, during the usual lunch break, the office was quiet and empty as everyone else headed to the cafeteria to grab a meal and a moment of respite.

But you were too exhausted to join them.

Instead, you found yourself unable to stay awake at your desk. The fatigue was overwhelming, and your body finally gave in to the exhaustion that had been building for weeks.

Your head gently slumped onto your folded arms, and your eyes closed as you succumbed to sleep. The hum of the office's air conditioning and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall provided a soothing background to your unintended nap.

Meanwhile, Yunho thought it was unusual not to see you at the cafeteria, especially during these high-pressure days leading up to the project deadline. Concern crept into his mind as he realised that he hadn't seen you taking a break or grabbing a bite to eat like everyone else.

Furrowing his brows, he decided to check around the office, his worry growing as he found no trace of you at your usual spots. He couldn't shake off the feeling that something might be wrong. Maybe you were feeling unwell, or perhaps the stress had finally taken its toll on you.

As he made his way through the quiet office, his steps grew lighter, and his anxiety turned into relief when he finally spotted you.

Yunho's heart swelled with affection and concern as he gazed down at you, fast asleep at your desk. He found you incredibly adorable, even in the midst of exhaustion. However, that adoration was mixed with a deep sense of worry as he realised just how overworked you must be to skip meals and resort to catching sleep at the office.

Kneeling beside you, he couldn't resist the urge to gently push a few stray strands of hair away from your face, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek. He wished he could take away the burden of stress that seemed to weigh you down.

But as he hovered over you, lost in his thoughts, he was abruptly pulled from his reverie when Wooyoung's voice cut through the silence of the office.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Yunho quickly stood up, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment at being caught in such an intimate moment. He cleared his throat, struggling to find an explanation, "I... I was just checking on her. She looked really tired, and I wanted to make sure she was okay."

Wooyoung's expression remained guarded, his eyes fixed on Yunho as if he were assessing his intentions. It was clear that the rivalry between them had not dissipated, and the taller male's actions had not gone unnoticed.

Yunho felt a pang of guilt and self-doubt, wondering whether his concern for you was genuine or if it was fueled by something more complicated. He stepped back, allowing Wooyoung to take the lead, unsure of how to navigate the complex web of emotions that seemed to entangle the three of you.

Flustered, Yunho made a hasty exit from the scene.

He needed a moment to collect himself, to sort through the whirlwind of feelings that had been stirred by the sight of you asleep at your desk. It was undeniable that his concern for you went beyond the boundaries of a typical colleague's care.

As Yunho retreated, Wooyoung took a few steps closer to your desk, his gaze softening as he watched you sleep. The stress and exhaustion that had etched lines of weariness on your face tugged at his heartstrings. He wanted nothing more than to take care of you, to make sure you were comfortable and at ease.

With a tender touch, Wooyoung reached for a container, your favourite meal inside, that he had prepared earlier in the morning. He placed it gently by the side of your desk, ensuring you had something delicious to eat once you woke up.

Then, he unfastened his blazer and carefully draped it over your hunched figure before pressing a small kiss onto your temple. His actions were driven by a desire to keep you warm and snug, to shield you from the chilly air of the office. Watching you sleep so peacefully, he smiled softly.

Beneath that smile lurked a sense of jealousy within him.

Seeing Yunho's concern for you triggered a surge of possessiveness and insecurity that he found hard to ignore. He knew he needed to address these emotions, but for now, his priority was making sure you were taken care of, even if it meant he had to battle his inner demons silently.

After lunch, Yeosang's gentle touch and voice roused you from your slumber, bringing you back to the bustling reality of the office.

As your eyes fluttered open, you immediately noticed Wooyoung's blazer draped over you, providing warmth and comfort. It was a gesture that touched your heart deeply, and a small, contented smile tugged at your lips.

Your gaze shifted to the container of food on your desk, and recognition washed over you. It was unmistakably Wooyoung's signature meal, one he had always lovingly prepared for you during your high school days. The rush of nostalgia and fond memories that accompanied the sight of the familiar dish made your heart flutter.

It was as if he had reached through time to the days when you were a giddy high school girl in love.

But it wasn't just the meal that stirred your emotions.

As you turned your attention to the meeting room, your heart skipped a beat when you locked eyes with your ex-boyfriend.

He looked incredibly handsome, his features refined by the years that had passed since high school. The sight of him reignited a spark of attraction and reminded you of why you had fallen so deeply in love with him all those years ago.

In that moment, the boundaries that had kept your emotions in check began to blur. You couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for something beautiful to blossom between you and Wooyoung once again.

The day of the final presentation had finally arrived.

It was a crucial moment for your project, and the team had gathered early at the office to prepare for the important meeting with key stakeholders. The atmosphere was tense as everyone fine-tuned their speeches and went over the final details. However, you noticed that Wooyoung was conspicuously absent.

Concern gnawed at you, as this was unlike him.

He was usually punctual and responsible, and even if he were running late, he would have sent a message to keep the team informed. But this time, there was no word from him, and none of your colleagues had heard from him either.

As the minutes ticked by, your worry deepened.

You tried calling him repeatedly, only to be met with his voicemail each time. It was as though he had vanished, and the lack of communication sent a shiver of anxiety down your spine.

Your colleagues attempted to reassure you, telling you that he would likely show up soon and that there was probably a reasonable explanation for his absence. Still, you couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that something was amiss, and your heart sank with every unanswered call.

The postponement of the meeting due to Wooyoung's absence only added to your growing anxiety.

His presence was vital as the project manager, and the fact that he hadn't shown up without any explanation left you deeply worried and on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

Unable to contain your concern any longer, you rushed to Yunho, desperately seeking any information that could help you reach Wooyoung. You needed to find him, to ensure he was safe and to understand why he had disappeared on such an important day.

The recruiter tried to calm you as he quickly accessed the company database to search for your ex's personal details. It was a race against time to locate him, and you clung to the hope that you could reach him soon.

Once Yunho found his home address, you wasted no time.

You packed your belongings in a rush, informing your concerned colleagues that you were going to check on him.

Yunho, worried for your safety given your fragile emotional state, volunteered to accompany you. You agreed, grateful for his support as you went on your mission to find Wooyoung.

The tension in the car was palpable as you and Yunho raced towards Wooyoung's house, your hearts heavy with worry and fear for his safety. But what you encountered on the way was something you never could have anticipated.

As your car approached an accident site at the side of the road, your heart seemed to stop when you recognised the mangled remains of an oddly familiar car.

No... no, it can't be.

Panic surged through you, and you screamed at Yunho to stop the car immediately. He slammed on the brakes, and without a second thought, you flung the car door open and sprinted towards the accident scene.

The crash site was chaos personified, with flashing red and blue lights illuminating the area.

As you approached, your heart pounded in your chest like a drum, and the weight of impending dread pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, blurring your vision, as you attempted to rush past the stern-faced authorities who had already cordoned off the area. Their expressions were unyielding, their voices firm as they insisted on maintaining control of the situation.

"Please, let me through! That's my... my friend's car!"

You cried, your voice cracking with anguish, desperate to get closer to Wooyoung. The police officers held their ground, their solemn expressions a stark contrast to your frantic demeanour.

Your desperation reached a fever pitch as you continued to shout his name, your voice carrying your love, fear, and regret, "Wooyoung! Wooyoung, please be okay! God, I... I love you, okay?!" The words tumbled from your lips, heavy with raw emotion and filled with the agony of knowing you might lose him forever.

But the authorities were unyielding, firmly keeping you at bay, their unspoken message clear: they were doing their best to handle the situation, and your presence was only complicating matters further.

The seconds felt like hours as you stood there, helpless and terrified, hoping against hope that Wooyoung would somehow be okay.

In that moment of heart-wrenching despair, Yunho quickly gathered you into his arms, holding you tightly as your legs gave way beneath you. You clung to him, your sobs wracking your body as you repeated the painful words like a mantra, "I've lost him... I've lost him again..."

Yunho held you close, his own heart heavy with the knowledge that, despite his feelings, in the end, it would always be Wooyoung who occupied the most significant place in your heart. He silently accepted this truth, providing you with a comforting presence as you grieved the possibility of losing someone you still deeply loved.

An authority figure eventually approached you two, asking if you knew the victim.

When you confirmed that you were friends with the victim, a sense of relief washed over her face. She quickly informed you that Wooyoung was in the ambulance receiving immediate medical care, and you clung to that sliver of hope like a drowning person clutching a lifebuoy.

With Yunho's support, they guided you towards the ambulance.

Your heart continued to race with anxiety, a relentless drumbeat of fear echoing in your chest. The relief of knowing he was alive was shadowed by the uncertainty of how badly he might be hurt.

Tears streamed down your face the moment you laid eyes on Wooyoung in the back of the ambulance.

The sight of him, battered and bruised, was almost too much to bear. His face bore a couple of bruises, and you reached out to gently touch his hand, relieved that he was conscious and responsive.

The doctor provided some reassurance, explaining that he had sustained a few broken bones and injuries, but overall, he was in stable condition. But they still needed to transport him to the hospital for a more thorough examination to rule out any internal injuries or bleeding.

Your heart remained heavy, but a glimmer of hope flickered within you as you knew he had made it through the worst part.

As the ambulance set off for the hospital with Wooyoung inside, Yunho quickly contacted someone from work to update everyone about the accident. You sat in the back of the ambulance, clutching Wooyoung's hand tightly, unwilling to let go.

The realisation hit you like a wave – your feelings for him had never truly faded; they had only been buried beneath the surface.

Now, more than ever, you were determined to stay by his side, to support him through his recovery, and to make up for the lost time. The events of the day had rekindled your love for him, stronger than ever before, and you couldn't imagine ever letting him go again.

"Do you know how scared I was, Jung Wooyoung? Don't you dare do that to me again, you hear me?" You whispered in a broken voice.

Despite the pain he must have been in, he smiled and nodded. His hand in yours was a reassuring anchor in the midst of this chaotic situation as he tightened his grip, giving you a comforting squeeze.

"I'm sorry for worrying you. This morning, as I was rushing to work, I hadn't been alert enough to realise a reckless driver was approaching from the side, he ignored the red light and ran straight into my car."

As he explained the accident, your worry for him only intensified, but he managed to inject a bit of humour into the conversation, teasing you about your emotional outburst. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but you smiled back at him.

"Yeah, well, maybe it's about time I said it out loud," You replied, your voice filled with sincerity, "I do love you, Wooyoung. I never stopped, even when I thought I had. It's still you that I want, it will always be you. And I... I don't ever want to lose you again."

"You won't have to. I'm not going anywhere this time, I promise." His eyes locked onto yours, and the two of you shared a moment of understanding, the unspoken feelings finally out in the open.

Wooyoung's heart swelled with joy, a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time. For years, he had carried the weight of regret and longing for you, unsure if he would ever hear those three words from your lips again.

Now, as he looked into your eyes and heard you say that you loved him, it was as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his chest.

A radiant smile spread across his bruised face, and his eyes sparkled with happiness. It was a smile that spoke of relief, of hope, and of a love that had endured despite the years of separation and heartache. In that moment, he knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, he was willing to face them, because he had the love of his life by his side once again.

The final meeting for the project was a bittersweet moment.

Wooyoung, with his cast on his arm, sat next to you, and the shareholders expressed their relief and sympathy for what had happened to him. The mood in the room was one of gratitude that he had come out of the accident relatively unscathed.

You couldn't help but steal glances at him throughout the meeting, your heart filled with love and concern for his well-being.

As the presentation concluded successfully, you exchanged a subtle, reassuring smile with your boyfriend. It was a silent acknowledgement of the challenges you had overcome together, not just in the project but in your personal lives as well.

The future felt uncertain, but you both knew one thing for sure: you were determined to face it together, hand in hand, and this time, nothing would tear you apart.

The dinner celebration later that night was filled with laughter.

Your colleagues chatted and celebrated the successful completion of the project, unaware of the quiet exchange happening beneath the table. Wooyoung's caring looks and subtle touches spoke volumes, and he couldn't resist the urge to hold your hand, even as you shot him a warning look with wide eyes.

You both knew the importance of keeping your rekindled relationship discreet at work, fearing any potential conflicts of interest. But, at that moment, as your fingers intertwined under the table, you smiled at each other, knowing that your love had found its way back, and this time, it would be even stronger.

Yunho, ever the understanding friend, had come to terms with the reality of your relationship with Wooyoung. He genuinely wished the best for you, even if it meant he had to let go of any romantic hopes he might have had.

He knew that in your eyes, he had always been a close friend and colleague. Nothing more, nothing less.

One afternoon in the office pantry, the recruiter smiled to himself as he discreetly observed the two of you sharing a quiet moment in the pantry, thinking no one else was around. Wooyoung held your hand, and in a daring move, he stole a quick, playful kiss, prompting you to smack his arm in a half-hearted warning.

It was a glimpse of the love and happiness that had found its way back into both of your lives, and Yunho was content knowing that you were where you truly belonged.

A few months passed since Wooyoung's cast had been removed and he had fully recovered, you both found yourselves in a comfortable and loving routine. Although you travelled to work together, you would part ways to enter your respective offices, with your boyfriend taking every opportunity to sneak a kiss onto your face before playfully running away, dodging your affectionate smacks.

The sun streamed through the car windows as you both drove to work together, the atmosphere light and easy. As you approached the office building, he glanced over at you, a playful glint in his eyes.

"You know, babe," He began, his voice warm and teasing, "I've been thinking. We've been keeping our relationship under wraps at work for a while now. And, well, I was wondering if maybe it's time we let everyone know."

You turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in surprise, "Are you serious, Woo?"

He nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "Yeah, I mean, we're in different departments anyway. It's not like we're working closely together every day. Plus, I think it's about time our colleagues knew how lucky I am to have you."

You smiled at his words, your heart warming.

"I agree," You replied, reaching over to give his hand a reassuring squeeze, "I think it's a great idea. Let's do it."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with happiness, "That's my girl. I can't wait to show everyone how amazing you are."

On that memorable morning, the meeting room was filled with an air of curiosity as Wooyoung called your closest colleagues together. You stood nervously at his side, your fingers intertwined with his, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. The glances and smiles exchanged between your colleagues only added to your jitters.

With a deep breath, your boyfriend finally spoke up, his voice laced with affection as he raised your intertwined hands, "We thought you guys deserved to know, we're together."

Instead of the expected gasps or exclamations of surprise, mischievous grins and playful amusement greeted his announcement. Yeosang, always quick with a witty remark, responded first, "Okay, and?"

Your brow furrowed in confusion as you glanced around the room, wondering why everyone seemed so unfazed.

Jongho chimed in with a smirk, teasing Wooyoung mercilessly, "Yeah, we know. Literally everyone knows you two are together. You haven't exactly been subtle at all, you know, especially you, Wooyoung hyung."

Your boyfriend's laughter filled the room, and you couldn't help but join in, your cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. You exchanged a sheepish look with him, realising that your relationship had been far less discreet than you thought.

Yeosang playfully rolled his eyes, "Seriously, guys, we've known for ages. You don't have to announce it like it's breaking news."

Jongho continued teasing, "Yeah, and Wooyoung hyung, you've been practically broadcasting it with that lovestruck look on your face every time you're around her."

Wooyoung's grin widened as he glanced at you, affection clear in his eyes, "Well, I can't help it. She's pretty amazing."

Everyone groaned loudly at that, all prepared to witness more public displays of affection at work now that you were both openly together. Pulling you close to him, your boyfriend knew there was one more thing you both needed to do.

With the decision to revisit your hometown and properly introduce each other to your families, the two of you planned a weekend trip back to Ilsan. It was a significant step in your relationship, a journey that held the promise of deeper commitment.

As you packed your bags and prepared for the trip, there was a sense of excitement and anticipation in the air.

This symbolised a beautiful chapter in your relationship, one where you would bridge the gap between your pasts and your future, and where the bonds between you and your families would grow stronger, just as your love had.

As the car journeyed back to Ilsan, the town where your shared childhood memories were embedded, a sense of nostalgia washed over both of you. You gazed out the window, watching familiar landmarks pass by like scenes from an old movie. Wooyoung took notice of the emotions welling up in your eyes as you relived those cherished moments from your past.

Unable to resist, he gently reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. Your eyes met his, and he felt a profound connection to you, one that spanned years and countless memories. Leaning in, he pressed a tender kiss onto the back of your knuckles, his way of silently acknowledging the shared history you both carried.

The journey back to your hometown was a trip down memory lane, a testament to the enduring love you held for each other and the promise of a bright future together.

Visiting Wooyoung's family was a heartwarming experience.

His parents welcomed you with open arms, their smiles radiating warmth and genuine happiness. They had always liked you, even during your younger years, and seeing you back together with their son filled their hearts with joy. They believed that you and Wooyoung made a sweet and perfect couple.

His brother, however, carried a heavy burden of guilt.

He took the two of you aside, his voice filled with remorse as he offered a sincere apology for his role in breaking you apart all those years ago. As you and Wooyoung exchanged a knowing look, you both forgave him wholeheartedly.

You understood that sometimes, people make mistakes, and those mistakes can lead to valuable lessons for everyone involved.

It was a moment of closure and healing for all of you.

Wooyoung's visit to your parents' house, however, was accompanied by a mixture of anticipation and anxiety.

He knew he had deeply hurt you in the past, and the possibility of your parents' disapproval loomed large in his mind. He was prepared to work tirelessly to earn their trust back.

Much to his surprise and relief, your parents welcomed him with open arms. It was a gesture of acceptance he hadn't expected so readily. As he sat down with them, he couldn't help but express his gratitude and curiosity.

"I'm truly grateful for your acceptance," He began, his voice filled with sincerity, "But I have to admit, after everything I put your daughter through, I didn't expect this. Why are you so willing to accept me back into her life?"

Your mother sent him a warm and understanding smile.

"It's clear to us how happy she is with you, Wooyoung-ah. That happiness means the world to us as her parents. Besides, we believe that people can change and grow. We all make mistakes when we're young and foolish, but it's the choices we make now that define us. You have a chance to redeem yourself, and as long as you make our daughter happy and treat her well, that's what truly matters to us."

He couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude and relief, knowing that he was given a second chance not only with you but also with your supportive and forgiving parents.

It was a moment of redemption and hope for a brighter future together.

After years of deliberately avoiding the annual school reunions to spare yourselves the potential heartache of seeing each other again, this year was different.

You both had finally agreed that it was time to attend the gathering, now that you had found your way back into each other's lives.

In previous years, you had both stayed away from the event, each for your own reasons. It was simply too painful to confront the memories of your past, the love that had once blossomed, and the heartbreak that had followed. But now, after rekindling your relationship, you feel ready to face those memories together.

The decision to attend the reunion was a significant step, one that reflected your newfound confidence in your love and your willingness to embrace your shared history. It was a declaration to yourselves and to everyone who knew you that your bond had not only endured but had also grown stronger over time.

As you both made your way to the reunion, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and nostalgia.

It was a chance to reconnect with old friends, relive cherished memories, and show the world that sometimes, love could find its way back, even when all hope seemed lost.

Walking hand in hand into the school reunion together was a statement that no one expected. Your presence together was a surprise to all your old classmates. While you and Wooyoung had been a couple for most of your school years, everyone knew about your painful breakup on graduation day.

The sight of you two together again caught everyone off guard.

Whispers and surprised glances followed you both as you entered the venue. Old friends and classmates couldn't help but comment on how you had reunited, expressing their astonishment at seeing you as a couple once more.

You navigated through the crowd, greeting old friends and engaging in conversations. All the while, there was an undeniable aura of curiosity and intrigue surrounding your relationship.

As the two of you mingled around, you couldn't escape the teasing and playful jabs that came your way. Some of your friends had been firmly on your side during the painful breakup years ago, and now, they couldn't resist taking a few indirect jabs at Wooyoung for the hurt he had caused you.

Amid the laughter and nostalgia, they warned him not to hurt you again, albeit in a lighthearted tone. Before you had a chance to come to his defence, Wooyoung took the initiative to address the elephant in the room.

Surrounded by the chatter of your old friends, he took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on you, and then addressed the group with a touch of nervousness in his voice, "I know you've probably all heard about what happened between us back then, and there's no denying that I messed up big time. I hurt her, and for that, I can't apologise enough."

Your friends and classmates exchanged glances, some nodding in agreement while others waited to hear what he had to say next.

"But today, I want to make a promise, not just to her but to all of you who care about her. I promise that I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to her, showing her the love and respect she deserves." As he spoke, you could see the sincerity in his eyes, and the surprise on the faces of your friends gradually turned into admiration.

"Well, you better keep that promise, Wooyoung. We're all watching, you know!" One of your friends chimed in playfully.

Your boyfriend smiled, "I wouldn't have it any other way. I know I have a lot of work to do, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

Another friend added with a smirk, "That's a good start, Wooyoung. Just remember, actions speak louder than words!"

The atmosphere lightened up as everyone joined in with their friendly banter. Wooyoung's heartfelt promise had not only taken you by surprise but had also won over your friends, showing them that he was genuinely committed to making things right.

As you looked at him, your heart swelled with a mix of emotions—forgiveness, hope, and the overwhelming feeling that your love story was finally on the path it was meant to follow.

The reunion had been a whirlwind of laughter, reminiscing, and catching up with old friends.

As the centre of attention, you and Wooyoung found yourselves in the spotlight, surrounded by friends eager to hear your stories and experiences since graduation. It was heartwarming to see familiar faces again, but it also felt overwhelming at times.

In search of a brief escape from the lively atmosphere, you gently tugged his hand, leading him toward a balcony just a few steps away from the bustling hall. The night air was cool and refreshing against your skin, providing a welcome respite from the warmth of the gathering.

Wooyoung willingly followed you, his eyes never leaving your face.

The quietude outside offered a stark contrast to the animated conversations and laughter inside. Out here, the distant sounds of the city were a soothing backdrop to your thoughts.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as you both looked out over the town. You took the chance to speak your mind, still touched by his promise, "You know, what you said back there meant a lot to me, Woo."

"Get used to it, babe. There will be plenty more cheesy words where that came from. I plan to annoy you with them for the rest of your life." You laughed softly, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the love in his words.

"I can't wait for you to annoy me forever."

He finally turned you around in his arms, his gaze softening as he looked into your eyes. His voice was tender as he spoke, "I love you, babe. More than anything."

Before you could respond, his lips found yours in a sweet, gentle kiss. The world around you seemed to fade away as you melted into each other's embrace. It was a kiss filled with all the words you couldn't express, a promise of love, forgiveness, and a future together. The years of longing, the pain of separation, and the joy of rediscovery were all encapsulated in that single kiss.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but they were tears of happiness, gratitude, and the overwhelming feeling that, finally, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Laughter and catcalls from your friends inside the hall pulled you both back to reality. They hadn't been too discreet about watching your balcony rendezvous.

"Hey, lovebirds! Save the show for later!"

With shared laughter, you pulled away, your hearts full of happiness and gratitude. As you returned to your friends, you couldn't help but feel that your love had come full circle and that this time, it was stronger and more enduring than ever before.

The two of you wore genuine smiles as you demonstrated that love could indeed find its way back, even after years of separation.

Your presence together spoke volumes, reminding everyone that sometimes, love could be rekindled, and old flames could burn brighter than ever before.

I'm realising that my oneshots are gradually getting longer and longer lmao. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed this one!

This took me quite some time to finish. I worked on this bit by bit in between breaks from my assignments and thesis, so I do apologise if certain parts might've appeared somewhat awkward(?).

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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