#stupidly pretty and flirty and a tease

[tw1sters]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ husband? never heard of him.

When Jake stumbles into your office attempting to flirt with you, all you can do is humor the fact that your husband seems to have forgotten you.

▸ PAIRING: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Wife!Reader ▸ WARNINGS: Pure fluff, slight amnesia, injured Jake, sexual jokes ▸ WORD COUNT: 1.6K ▸ A/N: wrote a quick small idea because i love a good secret relationship and a flirty hangman

The crash outside piques your curiosity. You abandon the latest report you’re working on and get up to swing open your door right on time for a certain blonde aviator to spill into the infirmary. Jake barging into your office is not news; he barges in probably more than he really should, particularly when you’re with patients.

“Boundaries” becomes the most used word in your relationship. 

Only thing is, this time, he’s looking at you with big, surprised eyes. The tinges of blue around his emerald eyes are even more prominent when they’re blown up. “Who allowed you to look this good, Doc,” he says with a swagger in his step, eyes droopy now as he leans against the doorframe. 

Before you can question him, Rooster walks through the door, a pitying look at Jake. “He’s on the good stuff. Maybe too much of it.” You quirk an eyebrow. “Sedatives.”

Your eyes dart briefly to Jake who is still eyeing you with interest but now he has taken over your chair, propping his chin up on his palm with his elbow on your desk. That smug smile, albeit a little sleepier, is still plastered across his face. 

“He crashed earlier–” The smile wipes off your face quickly and Rooster instantly adds, “Nothing big, managed to get out, but he landed wrong cause he ejected too close to the ground. We had to take him to the hospital. Most of it’s around his ribs, but he’s okay.” 

Drifting over to Jake, you cup his face and tilt him to look up at you. While he’s busy giving you dark, flirty glances, you are checking him for any signs of permanent damage. He has a few scratches on his face, you notice now the new band-aid he’s sporting on his cheek. 

You’re on your knees then and you’re slowly unbuttoning his uniform. If he’s really injured here, he should probably be wearing something more breathable. You remember he packed an extra short-sleeved shirt this morning. 

“Whoa, at least take me out to dinner first,” Jake teases, which earns a roll of your eyes. 

“Told his dumb ass he should be going straight home but he insisted on making a pit stop here. Something about getting a second look. He might’ve also said something along the lines of visiting the pretty doctor.” Your eyes snap up to Rooster, who holds his hands up in defense. “His words, not mine.”

Humored, you look at him playfully, accusingly. “So you don’t think I’m pretty?”

“That’s not what I said!” Rooster immediately replies, face flushing crimson. “Anyways, before I dig a deeper hole for myself, I’m going to leave him in your very capable hands. Whenever he’s done, one of the guys can drop him off at home.”

“I’m going to wrap up soon so I've got him, don’t worry.”

“You got his address?”

You fight to keep a straight face. “Yeah, it’s on his records.”

“Awesome, thanks, Doc. See you tomorrow.” With that, Rooster makes his exit, the door slamming shut behind him.

You wait a moment and thank the heavens that Jake has the false reputation of being an incorrigible flirt. That will hopefully throw off any suspicion of your relationship. 

When you know you’re in the clear, you inspect Jake a little more closely. There are bandages wrapped around his abdomen and you wonder how severe the accident was if they had to give him sedatives. Then again, it’s entirely possible that Jake was being a little bitch and they gave it to him just to shut his mouth.

Aside from the minor injuries, he seems to be in pretty good shape. Physically at least.

Mentally – you look up at him and he’s still smiling stupidly at you – he’s perhaps not quite there yet.

“Jake, honey, I’m going to need to move you to the bed.”

“So soon?” His eyes blow up comically before the expression falls away to a confident grin. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

A disgruntled sigh slips past your lips. Even when he’s drugged up, he still manages to be insufferable. You position his arm around your shoulders and slowly help him to his feet. Jake leans his weight on you, but more so because he really likes being this close to you. The man is heavy to say the least. All six feet of him. You lead him carefully towards the infirmary bed with him nuzzling into your hair the entire time. 

He hums thoughtfully and grins against the side of your head. His hot breath tickles your neck right as you plop him on top of the comforter. He avidly refuses to lie down, instead scooching his way in until he’s sat with his back against the wall. 

Jake turns to you, grinning smugly with teeth in full view.

“Damn, darlin’, you smell so good. Do you have a boyfriend?”

You’re just sitting down on the edge of the bed when you hear it and freeze. “Come again?”

“Sweetheart, we haven’t even come once,” Jake retorts, seeming all too pleased with his joke. The ‘we’ is cute, very considerate of him to include both of you in the conversation. However, you’re too distracted by his question. 

“You’re asking me if I have a boyfriend.” You repeat, incredulous. 

Jake nods aggressively, likely jumbling his head even worse. 

A smile tilts the corner of your lips. You raise your left hand, showing him the back of it. “I’m married actually.”

“Married?” He gasps, completely aghast. He looks crestfallen and then stares at the ring in annoyance. “I mean, of course, you’d be married. You’re so smart, and so pretty. You also embarrassed Rooster? God, you’re fuckin’ perfect. Who’s the lucky person? Do I know them? Are they on base?”

“You do know him, very well in fact. He is on base.”

A growl rises from his throat. “He better watch his back, I’ll get him if he even thinks about slipping once.”

“Really? How would you do that?”

“I could fight him.”

You chuckle. “Right, you’ll fight him. That might be a little hard.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s pretty tough. He’s tall. Very strong. Very handsome too.”

Jake scowls. “Alright, so he’s Mr. Perfect because you’re also perfect. Well, if I ever catch him not being perfect, I’m going to swoop in for the kill. Neither of you will ever see me coming.”

A grin stretches across his face at your laugh. “Good to know, Seresin. I’ll make sure to warn him.”

“Hm, so you’re really married,” Jake repeats again in a deep, disappointed sigh. He takes your left hand in both of his, looking down at the spectacular rock on your hand. He lets out a low whistle before he grimaces, realizing who he’s complimenting. 

Actually, not even realizing who he’s complimenting. 

“He did good, your husband.” Jake turns your hand, letting the diamond catch the sunlight. The facets sparkle, speckling the room with blinding polka dots. “Gorgeous ring for a gorgeous girl.”

Heat creeps up your cheeks. “Thank you.” You pause before dropping another bomb on him. “I should also probably tell you that you’re also married.”

Jake jerks back, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly he turns to look at you. “I am? To who? I think I’d know if I was married.”

“A very lucky woman.” 

“Well, shit.” Jake grunts. “Well, if I married her, then I’m sure she’s as perfect as you.”

“Probably more alike than you think,” you mutter under your breath. 

Jake is smiling at you softly and you see his eyes begin to close. His eyelids flutter, struggling to stay open. It’s as if he is striving to commit your face to memory. “I think I’m kinda sleepy, Doc.”

“Well, you best get your rest then.” 

“When I wake up, if you happen to be single, you let me know right away. Or even before I wake up, that might just do the trick.”

“You got it, Hangman.”

–

“I had the strangest dream,” Jake tells you on your drive home. 

He’s in the passenger seat, his head still spinning a little from the heavy slumber. He had woken up when everyone else was long gone and found you flipping through your novel, waiting for him. He didn’t seem to remember what happened just an hour prior, so you let it play out, told him he just slept the entire time. 

“Hm, what about?”

“I was flirting with this woman,” he says, sounding even more confused than you should be. “I promise, sweetheart, I’d never hit on anyone else. I haven’t hit on anyone else, not since that time I flirted with you when you first joined.” 

You hide your smile, focusing instead on the road. “Yeah, was she pretty?”

Clearly, a part of him does think so because he hesitates before responding. “Would you be upset if I said she was? I can’t even remember her face. I just remember thinking she was so fuckin’ stunning.” 

“Should I be concerned about this fictional woman?” 

“Definitely not,” Jake scoffs, crossing his arms over your chest. “Dream woman could never compare to you. The real deal.” 

You let out a little mm-hmm as you pull out something from your pocket. His dog tag dangles from your hand, glimmering right next to the wedding band he keeps around his neck. “Rooster gave it to me before he left. Said you dropped it in your landing.”

He gratefully accepts the necklace and clasps it around his neck. “Thank you, did he ask about the–you know.” 

“You mean your wedding ring? The one you’ve been wearing since you married me a year ago? The one you keep secret from your squadmates because no one knows you’re married and you let them believe you’re still a cocky, unbearable flirt?” 

Jake laughs. “That’s the one.”

“Yes.”

“And what did you say?”

You smirk, “Told him it was a purity ring.”

“Darlin’,” he groans, “I have a reputation to maintain.”

divider credit: @cursed-carmine

[nephynes]

Jaywon as like bullies? Stay with me now. I feel like Jay would always tease you and Jungwon would reassure you he’s just joking and you like one day kinda feel like Jungwon has feelings for you back, so you text him. And the whole time Jay was right next to him. Most of the time it was Jay typing. Jungwon plays along but never confirms he has feelings for you lowk he was just being nice to get in ur pants. Fast forward he does, he invites you over and boom jays there, ok that’s all I got😭 I was going off of that one pic, yk the one of Jay next to Jungwon and Jay was typing out comments on weverse

i think i have a compression problem cause i went wayyy off script (sorry girl)

MDNI

══════════════════════════

You've never really known where you stood with Jay and Jungwon. Jay's cruel, that much is obvious. He doesn't even try to hide it always tripping you when you pass by their table in the cafeteria, tugging your hair just hard enough to make your eyes water, smirking when you stumble and calling you pathetic under his breath, loud enough for others to hear and laugh.

And when he catches you alone in the hallway? He forces you to your knees under the pretense of "tying your shoe," fingers gripping your shoulders just a little too tight as he leans down, dark eyes glinting with something feral. "Look at you," he'll sneer, "right where you belong."

But Jungwon's different. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself. He's soft. Smiles at you when Jay's not looking. Whispers apologies when Jay gets too rough. Brushes your hair behind your ear and tells you you're pretty when Jay calls you ugly. Jungwon flirts with you like it means something, asks what color lip gloss you're wearing, tells you he likes your perfume, offers you a sip of his drink after gym like it's normal. Like he doesn't sit beside a boy who seems to genuinely enjoy breaking you.

Sometimes you think you're imagining it, the difference between them. Like maybe Jungwon just feels bad. But then he says something like, "Don't listen to him, you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," and it sticks to the inside of your skull like a curse. Like hope.

You start to look for him more. Listen harder when he talks. Respond when he teases you gently instead of shrinking away like you do with Jay. You think about what it might be like if he kissed you. If he said he actually liked you. If all those times he brushed his fingers against yours meant something real.

So when you get a text from his number late one night, well past midnight, your heart stutters.

jung1: you up?

You blink at the screen, tucked under your blanket, stomach fluttering. You respond quickly, trying not to overthink.

you: yeah, everything okay?

It starts slow. Light. Flirty. He asks what you're wearing, you say pajamas, what you're watching, you lie and say something cool, and then he asks if you've ever thought about kissing him. Your fingers freeze. You hesitate, heart pounding, and then finally respond.

you: sometimes...

You bite your lip. The next reply comes fast.

jung1: i think about it all the time.

You don't know what to say. You smile, cheeks burning. You're giggling into your pillow, feeling so stupidly lucky. Like maybe, just maybe, you were right all along. Maybe he really does see you.

The light from Jungwon's phone screen glows soft and blue, casting shadows across his sharp features as he lounges on Jay's bed, back against the headboard. He's biting his lip, one hand scrolling through your messages, the other resting lazily in his lap.

Jay's sitting at the foot of the bed, legs spread, phone discarded. His focus is entirely on Jungwon, or more specifically, on the quiet smirk tugging at Jungwon's lips as another reply from you pops up.

"She said 'sometimes,'" Jungwon reads aloud, voice amused. "About the kissing."

Jay barks a short laugh. "You've got her wrapped, man. That shit's pathetic."

Jungwon shrugs, eyes flicking up briefly to meet Jay's. "She's cute, though."

"You mean easy," Jay corrects, smirking. He crawls up the bed, looming closer to see the screen. "Let me answer this one."

Jungwon doesn't hesitate. He hands over the phone, brushing Jay's fingers with his own in a way that lingers just long enough to feel intentional.

Jay types quickly.

jung1: i think about it all the time

He hits send and tosses the phone back to Jungwon like it's nothing. Like you're nothing.

"She's gonna lose her shit," Jay grins. "I bet she's already got her hand down her pants."

Jungwon laughs, soft and cruel. "Probably too scared to touch herself."

Jay cocks his head. "Should we help her out?"

Jungwon scrolls through your previous messages, eyes narrowing in amusement at the shy way you word things, all lowercase, hearts, hesitant punctuation. "She's already halfway there. We can keep pushing."

Jay moves in again, his voice low and close to Jungwon's ear. "Ask if she wants to see it."

There's no need to clarify. Jungwon knows exactly what it means.

He pauses. "Too soon?"

Jay shrugs. "Not if we say it like you're nervous about it. Make it sweet. You know, like...you."

Jungwon glances at him, a twitch of a smirk playing on his lips. "You're such a dick."

"Yeah. Right, whatever."

Jungwon doesn't deny it. Instead, he starts typing again, glancing at Jay before hitting send.

jung1: i don't wanna make you uncomfortable but... do you wanna see me?

They wait in silence. Jay's grinning now, teeth sharp. Jungwon's lip curls in satisfaction as your typing bubble pops up again and again, disappearing, coming back. He knows you're spiraling, nervous, flustered, overthinking every word.

Finally, your reply comes in.

you: yes...

Jay whistles low. "No way."

"I told you," Jungwon says simply, lifting the phone up. "She wants it." Jay stretches, arms behind his head, eyes dark. "Good. Then give it to her."

Jungwon's quiet as he opens his camera. He doesn't even hesitate whipping out his cock that's already half hard. It's almost insane how turned on he is by your naivety. The shot is fast, practiced. He sends it.

Then, almost like they planned it, he types the next message slowly, watching Jay's reaction from the corner of his eye.

jung1: your turn? 🙃

Jay leans in, lips barely parting. "She really sent it?"

Jungwon doesn't answer. He just turns the screen.

The picture is small, blurry but it doesn't matter. The point is that she sent it. You sent it. Your breasts sit so perky and perfect, nipples so hard—they both can't help but wonder if that was the first cock you ever saw.

Jay stares for a beat longer than he should. Then his gaze flicks up, locking with Jungwon's. Neither of them speak for a moment.

Then Jungwon licks his lips and murmurs, "You earned it."

Jay's already unzipping his jeans as Jungwon hands him the phone, maybe for a better view. He’s tugging at Jay’s jeans to hastily pull out his throbbing hard cock and wrap his mouth around it, the way he knows Jay likes.

Jungwon is leaned back against the headboard again, shirt off now, chest slowly rising and falling as he scrolls aimlessly through your messages, past the pictures, the nervous giggles you typed out, the confession you were too shy to say out loud but let slip anyway:

you: i've never done this before... only because it's you

His lip twitches at that. A smile. Barely there, but it's not the kind that reaches his eyes.

Jay's already half-asleep next to him, arms folded behind his head, a lazy grin still on his face and looking way too blissed out from what Jungwon did to him. "Didn't think she'd actually send it," he mumbles, eyes closed.

"She would've," Jungwon replies quietly, "Eventually. Girls like her always do."

Jay snorts. "Yeah, but only with you. You're the golden boy."

Jungwon hums, scrolling further, rereading a message where you told him you feel safe when he's around. That you trust him. That he makes you feel beautiful, not like how Jay always makes you feel small.

The irony almost makes him laugh.

He plays the role so well—soft voice, tender glances, the hand that brushes your hair behind your ear and tells you, "He doesn't mean it, you're perfect the way you are." You believed it, like you needed to.

And that's what made it easy.

Jay might've been loud, obvious, the kind of cruel you can point at and flinch from but Jungwon? He made you lean in. Made you feel chosen even.

He remembers the first time you blushed just because he said your name. Remembers how you always looked at him like he was the one good thing in a world full of people who didn't see you. You never asked why he never touched you when no one was looking. Why he always had a reason to walk away after making you flustered.

Because Jungwon never had to push. He waited. Watched. Let Jay tear you down until you reached for him like a life raft and he let you.

All the while knowing he was going to drown you too.

He turns the phone screen off and places it down slowly, thoughtfully. Jay's breathing deepens beside him, drifting off fully now but it doesn’t stop Jungwon from leaning in and pushing his tongue into Jay’s closed mouth and Jay even from his state of sleep, kisses back.

Jungwon laughs as he watches Jay’s head lift from the pillows, chasing Jungwon’s lips as he pulls back. Jungwon curls into Jay’s side and closes his eyes with that same soft expression you always mistook for affection.

But all it ever was—was hunger, dressed in kindness.

══════════════════════════

• a/n: this gives me tension theory vibes, am i tripping?

there’s an upgraded sequel- play thing

[mayasaurusss]

could we pretty please get something about being in a flirty rivalry with Shauna shipman? thanks if you do :3

That's kinky, Shipman

Contains: afab Shauna, afab reader, angry sex, use of swear words, enemies to more. A/N: after I saw the end of episode two, I just couldn't let this ask sit in my inbox any longer😂, Enjoy, Shauna simps!

You don't like Shauna Shipman. You never liked her, not once since you met her. There was something dark about her, something that scared you, but you couldn't place your finger on it.

It certainly didn't help when she started to nitpick you for being a newbie in the team.

"You have to get the ball in the net, okay? In the net" she told you with those dark eyes of her burning holes in your head. You tried and tried, but no matter what you did, it was never enough for Shauna.

It wasn't long enough that you started to reciprocate her behavior.

Did she miss a goal or fell on her ass during practice? Oh you would for sure let her know.

At every chance you get, you'll tease the shit out of her, watching as her eyes become dangerously dark.

It's the same routine today. Monday afternoon, the sky is dark, the rain cold, but you still commit your mind and body to the bit.

You are on the opposite team, facing Lottie, Natalie, Taissa and Shauna. A loud whistle marks the beginning of the game, giving everyone the sign to start.

You're up first, face to face with Shauna.

She passess the ball to Mari, but she fails and lets it slip right into your grasp, earning exasperated insults from her teammates. You kick the ball with your right foot, trying to send it to Laura Lee, but it's swiftly stolen by the brunette, who now aims for the net. Just as she's about to score a goal, she slips in the mud, falling face first into it and losing the opportunity to score one point for her team. You, who ran after her, stop right at her feet, already savouring the words in your mouth.

"You're supposed to get the ball in the net, okay? In the net" and oh it feels so good to say that. But Shauna has a different opinion.

"You- fucker!" she's about to raise her fist and land it square on your face, but before she can do that, she's stopped by Taissa.

Now it's Gen's turn. She runs across the field, dodging the others, until she passes the ball to you. Fate wanted you to suffer Shauna's own fate. Just as you are about to score, you're yanked backwards by the back of your shirt, its edge pressing terribly hard on your neck and exposing your lower back to the cold winter's air, then, to the wet grass below.

Shauna, that little bitch, is the culprit, smiling that fucking stupidly cruel smile of her as you writhe under her weight. She decided to sit directly on top of your hips, flashing her victory right on your face.

You couldn't stand her. But if that's the case, why everytime she stalks you during a game, falls on top of you and gives you that shit eating grin of hers, your heart skips a beat?

"What the fuck is your problem?!" you scream at her, watching as her face turns into a snarl. Did she really expect you to thank her for almost making you break your spine?

"You are the one who fucking fell on top of me first!" it's not long that you two both scream at each other that Coach Scott comes, sending you on the sidelines until the game's over, forcing you to do five laps around the entire field.

You stop when six pm hits, standing in the locker room wet and cold like a stray puppy.

You try so hard not to give that crazy bitch next you any kind of attention, but she beats you to it.

"You are so full of shit" she says, evidently not able to stop her mouth from spewing hate at you.

"Excuse me? You are the one who started it!" a vein pops in your head, ready to pump blood in your heart and making you aggressive.

"Yeah, because you fucking suck at soccer. Have you ever thought of doing something more your league? Like, I don't know, cheerleading? You'd be good at that"; Shauna doesn't grasp how that sounds until the last word spills from her lips.

"Why, because I'm hot or because you'd like to see me in a skirt?" for a moment, her brain entertains the idea, picturing you in a skimpy cheerleader dress, cheering for her...

What the fuck are you thinking?

"You'd look good..." she never meant for it to slip from her lips, already regretting it as you turn to her with a snarky look on your face. God, she wishes she could erase it, wishes she could force you to your knees and relish in your pain. Or pleasure. She's not really sure.

"What was that?", Shauna makes the effort to not meet your gaze as she speaks, fearing that if she locks her eyes with yours, she won't be able to resist you.

"No, I wouldn't; because all you could ever hope to become in this life is a bimbo. You are as dumb as them. I'm sure you'd like to get fucked like one too".

Fucked like one? That's kinky, Shipman.

"I'd say bimbos deserve more respect: they sure have more of it than you" she shuts close her locker, the force of the impact sending droplets of water everywhere. She stomps over just in time for you to turn, slamming her hand on your throath and sending your head on the locker.

"That's it. I'm fucking tired of you and your bullshit".

"And what are you gonna do about it, Shipman? Trample over me next practice? Fuck me in this locker room?"; oh you so deserved this.

Shauna doesn't even register her lips on yours until she hears your moan. She has you trapped between her and the locker, her hands bruising your hips with the sheer strength behind her touch.

The ghost of her teeth on your lips is harsh, biting and snarling like she's a wolf savouring its delicious prey. She's pressed so tightly against you that breathing proves difficult, your brain barely registering the lack of oxygen until she draws away, wiping a trail of spit with the back of her band, before assaulting your lips again.

She parts your legs with her knee, making space to slip her hand beneath your shorts. You’re wet enough for her to hook her pointer finger over the hood of your clit, but not enough to enter you just yet. Shauna kisses and licks at the neck of your skin, makes out with you like a starved woman, like your lips will be the last ones she will feel on hers. And when her fingers slide between your folds with ease, she pushes them in, gasping at how tightly you're gripping her.

"There it is. Look, you could be good at something, if you were a slut" those dark eyes of hers look into you, her lips curling in a cruel smirk. She's really taking pleasure in hurting you, isn't she?

You don't want to let her words affect you, but you guess you don't know any better.

"Fuck off Shipman" you say between gritted teeth, anger stronger than pleasure is. But when she straightens her fingers inside, touching a spot that makes you see stars, you gasp loudly, earning a sick laugh from your rival.

You don't last long, pleasure taking a hold of your brain. White flashes beneath your eyelids, so close to the edge that you can practically feel it. But you're moving too much for Shauna's liking: she presses against you by the height of her crotch, effectively trapping you more into her space. You come under her touches, finally losing yourself in pleasure, staining your and her jersey probably forever.

You are far too tired, limbs so weak that you slide right down on the ground.

Just when you think she's gonna be soft, that she will hold you and ask you if you are okay, Shauna walks towards the locker room's exit, a barely disguised warm gaze in her eyes. "Clean yourself up" she says, leaving you alone.

It's still raining when Shauna sits at the bus stop. She kicks away pebbles with her foot, replaying what she did to you tonight over and over again. Almost instinctively, she looks at the hand that made you ride your high, only to find faint traces of you on them.

The blush that spreads through her face could rival the reddest of tomatoes, and she quickly fishes for a napkin and the remnants of water in her bottle, cleaning herself at the best she could.

Shit. That was... Wow.

If Shauna really hates you, then why does she wants to see that fucked out look on your face again? And why does her heart skip a beat thinking about you?

Ah!

"Fuck".

[jlheon]

𝓑𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌 ୨୧ 𝐋𝐇𝐒

(𝓹airing) — lhs x fmr ꣑୧ 𝓸ne-sided enemies to lovers ; fluff & kissing (𝔀ordcount) one-thousand one-hundred thirty 𝓹eng's note. flirty hee i collapsed! can’t tell if this is e2l but we ball! 𝓫ookshelf

𝓼ynopsis. you give heeseung detention once again for his habit of loudly chewing gum

every time you write up lee heeseung for detention you lose a year off your lifespan.

“detention,” you roll your eyes as you slip the bright red piece of paper to the boy sitting at his desk on his phone.

“again!” heeseung sarcastically cries, taking one glance at the slip and pushing it back to you. “will you be the one supervising?”

“unfortunately,” you sigh, shoving the paper more aggressively at him, hoping it’s more effective. “you better show up this time.”

“last time it was your annoying vice president watching over,” he replies. “if you’re there i’ll be there too princess,” heeseung winks.

you think it’s unfortunate how lee heeseung has one of the prettiest faces you’ve ever laid eyes on.

he obnoxiously chews gum during class even though it is strictly against school policy with that stupidly pretty smirk adorning his even prettier face.

girls left and right whining over the fact he never looks their way makes your blood boil for an ‘unknown’ reason. you pass it off as being annoyed that they even like the boy despite his actions, but maybe you feel bitter about the fact the only time lee heeseung looks your way is to blow a bubble of gum in your face to piss you off.

at the end of the week, lee heeseung managed to garner three detention slips.

meaning you’ll have to spend three hours on friday alone with him in a classroom making sure he does absolutely nothing.

detention was one of your least favorite things about being student council president.

yes, you are so grateful to be in such a high position in student government but sometimes giving up your friday afternoons to supervise your troubled peers is a bit tiresome.

today, it’s your week, and to your luck, the only person listed for detention on your clipboard when you walk into the vacant classroom is none other than lee heeseung.

“there’s my favorite girl!” heeseung struts into the room with his freakishly empty backpack and headphones hanging loosely around his neck. it amazes you every year how he moves up each grade despite never having any supplies nor assignments on him. “i was going to skip but then i saw your pretty pink skirt from the hallway.”

“sit down lee,” you say sternly, sitting down at the teacher’s desk.

“anything for you angel,” heeseung smirks as he takes the chair from the nearest desk and places it next to yours.

“at a desk,” you scoot your chair as far as possible until it collides with the wall.

“come on baby,” heeseung whines. “it’s just me and you.”

“it’s protocol,” you try again, hoping to get your point across.

“loosen up a little princess,” he says while moving his chair closer to yours as much as possible, the proximity making your cheeks heat up an embarrassing amount.

“i’m doing my job heeseung,” you frown, crossing your arms. he thinks you're adorable.

“you’re doing good just sitting and looking so pretty,” heeseung teases. “were you thinking about seeing me in detention while getting dressed today?”

“shut up,” you huff, facing your body toward the wall while unlocking your phone.

in your peripheral vision, you see him putting his headphones on and grabbing his phone from his pocket. you’re already letting him sit next to you so you must reinforce the strict no-phone policy for your pride and to cancel out your wrongdoings.

“give me those,” you say as you remove his headphones and snatch his phone.

“you’re so strict,” heeseung rolls his eyes, slouching in his chair, and accepting the boredom about to take over him for the next three hours.

unless…

“why do you always write me up?” he breaks the silence.

you ignore him.

“other people chew gum all the time,” heeseung tries again. “so why is it a problem when i do it?”

“maybe because you chew so loud,” you finally reply, back still facing him. 

your answer does not satisfy him. he decides to push your buttons more and pulls out an empty gum wrapper from the pocket of his jeans and starts loudly fiddling with it. hoping to simulate him putting a piece of gum in his mouth.

your ears are quick to pick up the familiar sound and you turn around in your chair.

“are you seriously having gum right now?” you ask annoyed, facing him completely. “i’m going to write you up again!”

“i’m not,” heeseung smiles teasingly.

“you’re a shit liar,” you say as you move to stand up.

“why don’t you come here and check for yourself,” heeseung pats his lap.

“i’m not sitting on your-” is all you manage to get out before he pulls you to rest on top of him.

“see,” heeseung opens his mouth, letting you see the emptiness with your own eyes.

after, you can’t help but stare at his lips after his mouth is shut again. your stares are obvious but you are somehow lost in a trance.

his arm wraps around your waist, the tips of his fingers ever so slightly brushing your bare skin that your shirt doesn’t cover.

heeseung brings his free hand behind your head and slowly brings your face towards his as he leans in impossibly close.

“i’m going to kiss you,” he whispers, looking for any signs of discomfort from your end.

you stare at him like a deer in headlights once you finally break out of your trance. taking a second to register his words before shyly nodding your head.

heeseung’s lips finally touch yours and he thinks detention with you has never been more worth it.

the softness of your lip gloss-coated lips against his slightly chapped ones is addicting for him.

when you push against his shoulder for air you can’t help the flustered expression that washed across your face. his lips now adorn a pinkish hue from your lip combo, the shades of your lips now matching.

embarrassed by how easily you gave in, you lean down to bury your head in the crook of his neck, making him let out a chuckle.

“let me take you out on a date?” heeseung asks confidently, hands rubbing your sides softly.

“please,” you say quietly into his neck, still in disbelief about the kiss.

“how much longer do we have left?”

you reach for your phone and see that only thirty minutes has passed since heeseung arrived. you’re not sure whether to be thrilled to have more time with him or sad that you still have two and a half hours to kill.

“two and a half hours,” you tell heeseung, setting your phone aside again.

“great,” heeseung grins.

“great?” you ask confused, he between the both of you should be the one wanting to get the hell out of here more.

“i have two and a half more hours to kiss you.”

[mariistic]

mari smut? preferably top mari.. istg there's NO mari fics where's the love for my girl at 💔💔

JEALOUSY

no crash!mari ibarra × fem!reader

synopsis: Mari’s jealousy lingers in every touch, every kiss—she takes her time, claiming you, making sure you remember exactly who you belong to. And it's certainly not to that random bitch you're flirting with.

warnings: I so definitely agree, smut, fingering, slight use of dirty talk, marking kink comes back, possessive!mari, jealous!mari.

The party was loud, packed, and buzzing with energy—just like every party Lottie threw. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, weed, and sweat, the music pulsing through the walls of the house. You weren’t sure how you ended up here, but you knew one thing: Mari was watching you.

She had been all fucking night.

You felt the weight of her stare from across the room, heavy and dark, but you kept pushing it, kept playing your little game. The girl you were talking to was pretty—flirty, leaning in close, laughing a little too much at your jokes. You weren’t even really into her, not like that, but you knew Mari was watching. And you wanted to see just how far you could take it.

Big mistake.

A hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you away from your conversation before you could even process what was happening. You barely had time to glance over your shoulder before Mari was pulling you down the hall, her grip tight, her nails digging into your skin just enough to make you shiver.

“Mari—”

“Shut up,” she snapped, shoving open the nearest bedroom door and pushing you inside. The door clicked shut behind her, locking you in together, alone, away from the noise and the crowd and the girl you had so stupidly been flirting with.

Mari’s eyes were dark, blazing with something possessive, something dangerous. She had that look—the one that sent a thrill down your spine, the one that told you she wasn’t playing games anymore.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” she murmured, stepping closer, crowding you against the door. Her voice was low, edged with something sharp, but her hands were already on you, gripping your waist, fingers digging into your hips. “Flirting with some random bitch like I wouldn’t notice.”

Your breath hitched as her lips ghosted over your jaw, barely touching, teasing. “Maybe I wanted you to notice,” you whispered, testing her, pushing just a little more.

Mari didn’t take the bait. Instead, she smirked, dragging her nails down your sides, slow and deliberate, making you shudder beneath her touch. “Oh, I noticed,” she murmured, her voice dropping lower, sending heat pooling low in your stomach. “And now I’m gonna make sure you don’t forget who you belong to.”

She didn’t wait for a response. Her mouth was on yours in an instant, hot and demanding, her tongue slipping past your lips as she pressed you harder against the door. Her hands were everywhere—gripping, claiming, pulling at your clothes with a rough impatience that made your head spin.

“Get on the bed,” she ordered, her voice breathless, wrecked.

You obeyed, barely making it before she was on top of you, straddling your hips, pinning you down. Her hands slid under your top, pushing it up, exposing more and more skin until it was off and tossed to the floor. She kissed down your neck, biting, sucking, marking as she went. Each bruise was a brand, a silent message: Mine.

Her hands moved lower, undoing your jeans with practised ease, yanking them down along with your underwear, leaving you bare beneath her. The way she looked at you—hungry, possessive, like she wanted to devour you—made your breath catch in your throat.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she murmured, dragging her nails up the inside of your thigh, teasing, making you squirm beneath her. “I want you to remember this.”

She didn’t hold back. Mari loved control, loved making you fall apart beneath her, and she had no intention of letting you off easy. Her fingers slipped between your thighs, teasing, drawing slow, deliberate circles that made you gasp. She was patient, watching your body react to her every move, drinking in every whimper and moan as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“Look at you,” she murmured, pressing a kiss just above your collarbone, her teeth grazing your skin. “So fucking desperate.”

You arched into her touch, barely able to form a response as her fingers finally slid inside you, stretching you, filling you. She moved slowly at first, drawing it out, making you feel every inch of her before picking up the pace, thrusting deep and steady, her palm pressing against your clit just enough to send sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

The sounds you were making—soft, breathy gasps, pleading moans—only spurred her on. Mari loved this, loved the way you fell apart for her, loved knowing she was the only one who could make you feel like this.

Her grip on your hip tightened as she fucked you harder, her name falling from your lips in breathless, needy whimpers. “That’s it,” she muttered, her voice thick with desire. “Let me hear you.”

You could barely hold back, barely think—your body trembling beneath her, heat coiling in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter until you were on the brink of falling apart. Mari knew, she could feel it, the way your body tensed, the way your breathing hitched.

“Come for me,” she commanded, her voice low, rough, possessive.

And you did—shattering beneath her touch, pleasure crashing through you in waves so intense you could barely breathe. Mari didn’t stop, working you through every last aftershock, dragging out every last bit of pleasure until you were spent, boneless beneath her.

She smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back, her fingers still resting against your thigh, possessive, claiming.

“Think you’ll flirt with anyone else tonight?” she asked, tilting her head.

You swallowed hard, still dazed, still trying to steady your breathing. “N-no.”

Mari grinned, trailing a finger over one of the fresh bruises on your neck, admiring her handiwork. “Good.”

She didn’t move, didn’t let go, her eyes still burning into you. “You’re mine,” she murmured, pressing another kiss to your jaw, softer this time. “Don’t forget it.”

As if you ever could.

[rainrot4me]

Rain’s Kinktober 2024 - 10

Kagekao x Female Reader - Stalking/CNC

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Stalking, consensual non consent, teasing, cunnilingus, blood and gore, depictions of murder, gross pervert man, semi-public, cat and mouse, blood smearing, begging, pleading

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 2.6k

Wrapping his scarf tightly around his neck, Kagekao scanned the busy roads and overcrowded bartops bustling with all kinds of people. Drunk bastards and flirty couples shoveling their way through streets and stoplights, cars honking and people shouting with excitement. He liked to watch, to examine just how different each one was. The rooftop view was nice though, out of sight from any curious eyes so high up. 

The chilly night air was comfortable, leaning casually on a beam holding up a larger advertisement sign, the bright luminescent colors flashing obnoxiously above him. The demon could’ve stayed there all night, the stout smell of cigarettes and alcohol floating up to his perch and easing his excitement.

But he had a pretty girl to look for.

Every once in a while, when Kagekao grew bored of his usual games and repetitive forms of entertainment, you both would agree on a little cat-and-mouse routine, something to spice up the late nights when he grew restless. You would leave for the night, and Kagekao would follow discreetly, your oblivious mind never knowing when he would decide to swoop in and snatch you up.

You would dress up, harboring some skimpy clothing that revealed just a little too much and grabbed all the wrong attention, flaunting yourself in busy bars and crowded restaurants. Nasty men would circle, wrapping their arms around your waist and asking if you needed a ride home, buying you all kinds of fruity drinks and things you didn’t really like. Kagekao was there to watch it all, hopping from rooftop to rooftop as the breeze ruffled his dark hair, keeping a close watch on his precious woman.

You always promised you wouldn’t be a flirt, unaware that the demon was watching your every move, following along and catching your every sly smile and intentionally roaming hands on their chests or arms. Such a tease, such a minx. And he ate it up, too.

He watched you jump from bar to bar, hanging on to one guy after another. He hung on every step of the way, his excitement growing, waiting for the perfect moment to infiltrate your fun little night. It always ended the same, you just had to decide who.

It was late, far after midnight when you and some unnamed drunk stumbled out of a nasty dive bar, his arm wrapped around your shoulder while you leaned into his touch. The demon knew you weren’t unfaithful, far from it- this was all your ploy to get his breathing spiked, claws scraping against the concrete of the building as he watched you both saunter into a dark alleyway. Kagekao could feel his heart thump in his chest, each moment he watched this disgusting man press you against the rough wall, stupidly kissing along your bare neck and tugging at your tiny skirt, it just made his blood boil.

People walked by unknowingly, the darkness of the cramped alley covering any suspicious activity, but he could see it all. Every place his hand touched, every time his lips pressed against yours, every inch his fingers moved closer between your thighs- every action reflected with a sickly sweet smile on your face just to piss him off.

“Well played, angel.” Kagekao stood straight, adjusting his mask, the stark glow of his eyes flickering and sucking in the light around him. Tapping his feet off the edge of the rooftop, the demon gave just another moment of enjoying yourself before he dropped. It wasn’t incredibly high, unsurvivable for a human, but lucky for him landing on the ground was nothing more than a slight sting. 

The loud thump of his arrival in the alley alerted you both, the drunk guy going to town on your neck glancing back, his eyes glazed over from the heavy amount of alcohol. Kagekao stood there, feet away as he smiled, clapping his hands slowly. 

“Kage-” You breathed, pressing your hands on the man’s chest and shoving him off, pressing back against the wall. The guy was stunned, his confidence staggering as he looked the demon up and down, thrown off by his unusual attire. “Hello, pretty girl. Good show, really.”

“Wait a min- You know this guy, hun?” The drunk guy slurred, his use of a nickname nearly cracking Kagekao’s demeanor entirely, his claws aching to get a hold of him. You don’t answer, the man puffing up his chest and crossing his arms, some show of dominance that was futile. “Hey man, finder’s keeper, a’ight? Won’t you jus-” 

You had already turned your head, looking in the opposite direction down the tight alley by the time Kagekao was on top of him, thick claws sinking deep into the meat of his neck. The demon’s eyes were piercing, staring, unblinking as he watched the man sputter and choke on globs of his own blood. “Aww, guess that means I get to keep her then? Ain’t that right, angel?” He chirped up, smiling under his mask at the satisfying pop of the man’s tendons snapping off of his spinal cord. He was gone, half-dead from the impact of his skull hitting the hard concrete ground, but now his eyes were already lulling back. Blood pooled onto Kagekao’s claws, thick globs running down to the ground and staining, the sour smell already thick in the air.

He was so lost in it, glaring with bloodlust intent that he almost missed the sound of you coughing, choking at the sight. Your heels clicked as you tried to shuffle away, pressing tight against the wall like you were trying to disappear into it. Kagekao flexed his claws out of the neck, the poor guy’s body shaking and flinching with the last efforts of life before going limp, a satisfying end.

Focusing his attention on you now, Kagekao’s eyes shone bright, the fiery irises burning a hole in you. Taking several steps back, you held your hands out, shaking your head as slowly as you could to not alert him further. “Kage… Listen, I- You’re not thinking right-” You’re stumbling over your words, looking for the right things to say as your gaze flickers from the demon’s mask to the mangled body feet away. “You’ve never- Oh, God… Kage-”

Maybe he had gone a little too far. The usual routine was to knock the guy out and tease you around a little about being such a flirt before swiping you away for more fun. So what if this one had been a little too cocky for his liking, and a little too touchy… It didn’t matter. Kagekao was itching now, body wracked with so much pent-up energy he had to expend it somehow.

“What? We’re having so much fun and now you don’t wanna play anymore?” He mocked you, taking heavy steps closer and closer, laughing every time you took another inch back. You were cornering yourself, shoving deeper into the dark alleyway like it would be safer. You were shaking your head, skirt riding up your pretty thighs just enough to make him groan. He couldn’t blame the dead guy, you were so easy on the eyes it was hard to even look away.

“Angel. Don’t be runnin’ now…” He chuckled, closing the space between you two as your back connected with the back wall, panic creeping in as his eyes nearly glowed in contrast to the shadows. He snaps forward, a yelp as Kagekao’s claws wrap around your cute face, blood smearing across your skin and snaring into your hair. It felt hard to breathe with his chest pressing against yours, the rumble of his words shaking you as he playfully smeared dark red across your rosy cheeks. “Please, don’t…”

You try to push away, hands clawing and ruffling his clothes with anxious breaths, shaking under his weight. The demon smiles, swiping the blood on his claw across your puffy lips and smiling at how nice it looks. You were whimpering, tears welling in those pretty eyes. Kagekao could feel his cock getting harder by the second.

“Angel, fuck- y’look so gorgeous like this.” He snarls, dipping his claws lower to snag around your throat, tightening his grip just enough to make you gasp. “What- Oh ngh- Fuck-” You’re gasping when he nudges his knee between your thighs, separating them and pushing that skirt up further, your plump ass barely staying hidden. “Gotcha.” Kagekao smiles at the feeling of your clothed cunt drooling, seeping onto his pantleg, excited already. 

“Don’t go acting like this wasn’t your intention. That’s alright, girl, I get it.” Letting off of your face, the demon drops to his knees, dipping his claws between your plush thighs and pushing them apart further. He wastes no time, pushing his hood back and nudging his mask up to his nose, his sour smile sending waves of anxiety through you. 

Snagging his claws under your skirt, he shoves the fabric up, pushing it to your waist. Your panties are next, the damp fabric tinted with your arousal, and quickly being hauled down to your ankles. You settle your weight on the wall behind you, reaching forward to tangle your fingers into his hair, the dark strands being tugged uselessly as he presses forward. 

You can’t see his eyes anymore, mask covering them, but you can see his smile- so sickly sweet as it disappears against your cunt. He licks a long, languid stripe up your swollen folds, your pussy gushing its arousal and soaking your taste onto the muscle. Oh, how Kagekao loved this little game, the pathetic little whimpers leaving your mouth as he teases you, hot tongue going all the way up from your base, just underneath your swollen clit. He doesn’t fuck into your sloppy hole yet, he wants to hear you ask for it. 

You moan out, doubling over as he abuses your clit, “Quit! Kage- not here, not now!” You’re so shy, so ashamed of the way your body reacts to him. You might’ve enjoyed it if every time you glanced up, you weren’t met with the body of the poor bastard you dragged out here. Kagekao wasn’t sane right now, wouldn’t listen to you. It’s so useless when you try to push his head away, shoving at his mask while he sucks heartily on your clit, completely avoiding your sopping entrance. “Stop- please, stop-”

“Keep cryin’, it jus’ makes you wetter…” He drooled, lapping at your throbbing clit as it pulses and jerked, heavy with your panic. You sob, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you push against his head, trying desperately to shut your thighs but he's so much stronger, pushing them even further apart like it’s nothing. “Yeah, jus’ like that.” He groans, tongue rubbing obscene little circles on your poor clit.

You hiccup, face burning at how unreasonable he was being. “Kagekao- I don’ want this- No!”

The full use of his name had him shuttering, wasting not another minute on your feeble clit and shoving his tongue into the warm pool of your entrance, shoveling his way past that tight ring and into the gush of your taste. “Oh, yeah?” He teases, voice muffled around your swelled cunt, so deep that his nose was rubbing tiny, sinful little circles on your poor clit. “Hard to believe when you’re nearly dripping…”

His lips and chin are smeared with your juices, tongue lulling in and out of your cunt, pressing all the right spots. You can’t help that your hips jerk with the feeling, grinding down onto the muscle like you weren’t pleading with him to stop, to just wait a minute-

You’re dragging your pussy so sloppily all over his face, his tongue fucking you with such reckless abandon, like this is the reward you get for participating in his sick little game. “You make me so fuckin’ hard, angel. Y’know that? Little pussy is soo tight-” He slurs against you, nose bumping your clit and dragging a long, agonizing moan from your throat. The demon hopes each oblivious passerby can hear, each one glancing down the alley and getting a full view of you falling apart just from him.

“Maybe I shoulda kept him alive, s’like you wanted me to fuck you right here. To have him watch how I’m gonna fucking ruin this pretty pussy on my cock.” You’re scrambling to grab at his hair, biting into your puffy lips until it hurts, his tongue flicking with intent across your clit. You’re too distraught to even think of a reply, sobbing as you will your eyes not to look up at the body feet away, keeping them trained on only Kagekao’s nasty tongue. “N-no- I didn’t wan-”

“You’re right- Poor bastard… Look at what ya did to him… But look at what I get to do to you…” He claws against your thighs, blood smearing across your skin and glistening an ill reminder. You want to argue, to fight something pointless, something that can’t be changed now. “No, no, no-”

The demon is practically pussydrunk, blatantly teasing you for every sorry excuse for a plea as you ride his tongue, groaning at the lewd smack of his tongue dipping in and out of your puffy folds. He smiles against your lips, smearing your arousal across his lips and licking them obscenely, chuckling into your warmth. You’re so close, gut so heavy and knotted you could cry. Kagekao can feel it, the way you flutter and clench onto his tongue, his lower lip collecting all of your sweet taste with the mess of your juices and saliva. “Kage- quit, I’m gon-”

But he doesn’t let you, sultry tongue stalling just long enough to have you rutting your hips down and physically begging for it. He’s taunting you with that sick smile, tongue smearing long, nauseating stripes between your folds, but refusing to brush your clit. “Tell me.” Murmuring even deeper into your cunt, “C’mon, now, angel. You’ve been asking me to stop all night, go ahead an’ tell me you want it.”

You sob, sniffling as you rut your hips, giving in to whatever restraint you had before. “Kage! Fuck- m-close- So, so close- Please don’t stop!”

Snagging his soiled lips onto your throbbing clit, he’s sucking like his life depends on it, wracking your body with jerk after satisfying jerk. You’re barely managing a strangled moan before you finally cum. All you can do is tighten your hold on his hair as wave after wave of such intense ecstasy hits you. With each flick of his tongue, he jolts you, sending flashes of light behind your eyelids as he crushes your hips down lower. Satisfied, Kagekao lets you have it, smearing your soaked cunt across his devilish tongue as you ride him out, shuddering. 

Finally tugging away, you’re panting, sniffling the last of your tears down your cheeks as Kagekao stands, tugging his mask down so his eyes gleam a hearty white at you. You’re shaking, cunt still wracking with waves of pleasure, knees weak from standing.

You glance at the body behind him, cringing before the demon takes a step in front of your vision, blocking the unsightly view. You stare up at him, whining softly with each panicked breath. 

“You’re so cute when you try to play victim, angel.” He’s cupping the side of your face, free hand easily unbuckling his belt, the cold metal sounds enough to have your cunt pulsing between your tired legs. 

“Now, let’s see just how loud you can get before somebody comes looking…”

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

[initforthethrill]

panty drop aka cate’s tired of almosts, so she hopes silk will make you really see her tw: sex is mentioned but nothing explicit. this is basically just all fluff hehe. 5.7k+ words

everyone say thank you @dunlapism for reposting this gelphie art onto my tl which inspired this hehe i love all my oomfies so much what would i do without the constant inspiration from you all<3

Cate Dunlap wasn’t the kind of girl who obsessed over underwear.

Well. Not usually.

She liked her lingerie drawer the same way she liked her emotions—organized, expensive, and behind a lock. Satin for when she wanted to feel dangerous. Lace when she was feeling cruel. And cotton? Please. She isn’t twelve.

But this pair—this ridiculous, barely-there, cherry-blush silk thong with embroidered hearts and a teeny, tiny bow at the front—this one was different. This one had a purpose.

A mission, if you will.

It was the kind of lingerie that didn’t scream fuck me. It whispered date me. Worship me. Maybe take me to brunch sometime and walk me to class.

Anyway. The thong.

Cate bought it on a Tuesday after a particularly chaotic orgasm left her trembling against the headboard with your hand still knotted in her hair and her heart doing its best impression of a hummingbird. You’d whispered something after. Not sweet—not exactly. But soft. Reverent. Something like, “You always sound so pretty when you come.”

And Cate—Cate had gone completely, disgustingly feral.

Hence: the thong.

She’d paired it with a matching bra, delicate and sheer, designed more for unraveling than actual support. She even wore a dress that night—backless, halter-tied, black and devastating. It wasn’t a date. Of course not. You didn’t do dates. Just flirty texts and shared vices and Cate half-draped across your bed until dawn, pretending her perfume didn’t cling to the sheets for days.

Still. Hope was a slippery thing.

When you opened the door that night, hair still damp from a shower, t-shirt hanging off your shoulder, Cate’s whole stupid heart curled into itself like a ribbon.

She said, “Hi.”

You blinked at her. Said, “Jesus Christ.”

So far, so good.

“Come in,” you added, stepping aside. Cate did, trailing her fingers over the wall just because she knew you watched everything. Every movement. Every breath. That was the thing about you—stillness like a trap, quiet like a scream.

Cate wasn’t used to being the more obvious one. She didn’t like it.

You followed her into your dorm, tossed your phone onto the couch, and muttered, “You’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

Cate smiled. “Only if you’re lucky.”

She waited. Waited for the look. For your eyes to dip—linger. For a comment. A hand on her waist, tugging her closer with that low, gravel-slick voice saying something filthy, something worshipful.

Nothing.

Cate unzipped her dress herself.

You were not okay.

You’d known a lot of versions of Cate Dunlap by now. Sharp Cate. Teasing Cate. Soft, sleepy, vulnerable Cate who clung to you in the middle of the night like she didn’t mean to. But tonight? This was a new kind of menace.

And the dress—God, the fucking dress—was bad enough. But then she had taken it off, just stepped out of it like sin incarnate, and you had almost whimpered.

You noticed the lingerie immediately. Of course you did. You weren't blind.

But it was new. Cate had never worn this before. Not for you, at least.

And it wasn’t slutty, not really. It wasn’t the kind of thing someone wore just to get railed. It was the kind of thing that meant something. Soft pink. Girlish. Stupidly delicate.

Your brain short-circuited.

Which—okay. Cool. Fine. No pressure. Just pretend you didn’t notice the tiny fucking bow. That was totally normal.

Cate was watching you now. Expectant. A flicker of something in her eyes, like she was waiting for—

No. You couldn’t say it. Couldn’t let on that you had been keeping track. That you knew every pair Cate had ever worn around you, whether they’d stayed on for long or not. That you’d fantasized about this—this exact look, this exact softness—for weeks.

Instead, you cleared your throat and asked, “Do you want the lights off?”

Cate’s smile faltered for a second. “Whatever you want.”

Fuck.

You had sex. Of course you did. Cate came twice. You pulled her apart like you were born to do it. Like you knew her body better than your own goddamn reflection. But through it all, Cate couldn’t stop thinking: she didn’t notice.

She didn’t notice the hearts. Or the bow. Or the way Cate had smoothed lotion over her thighs for an extra ten minutes just in case your hands wandered there first.

You didn’t notice because you didn’t care.

And fuck, that shouldn’t hurt. It shouldn’t.

You weren’t dating.

Cate rolled over afterward, tugging the sheets higher even though she wasn’t cold. Her back was to you. Always was. Easier that way.

“You okay?” you murmured.

Cate nodded into the pillow. “Mhm. Just tired.”

There was a pause. Then a soft shuffle of movement. You pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade. Gentle. Hesitant.

Cate nearly cried.

You stared at the ceiling for twenty minutes after Cate fell asleep.

You hadn’t meant to ruin it.

You just—panicked.

The new underwear was…it was a lot. A message, maybe. A test?

You didn’t want to get it wrong.

Because if Cate was trying to say something—if she wanted more—then God, you wanted to meet her there. Wanted to take her on a real date, hold her hand in public, fall asleep tangled up without having to pretend it didn’t mean anything in the morning.

But what if it wasn’t that?

What if it was just lingerie?

What if pointing it out made Cate retreat? What if she laughed?

You turned your head, watching Cate’s spine rise and fall with every breath. She looked soft in the moonlight. Breakable. Her hair a mess across the pillow, lips parted in sleep.

You could say something tomorrow. Maybe.

If you’re brave enough.

Cate left in the morning without waking you.

She sat on the edge of the bed, pulled on her dress slowly, and tried not to look at the bra and thong clutched in her fist. The lace had gone slightly wrinkled. The bow was a little crooked.

She’d thought she could seduce clarity out of you. That maybe if she looked desirable enough, obvious enough, you would finally say what you were both thinking.

Instead, all she got was a vague goodnight kiss and a confusing tangle of limbs under the covers that left her chest aching worse than her thighs.

She stuffed the lingerie to the bottom of her purse and left the dorm without a word.

You knew something was wrong the second you woke up alone.

The sheets beside you were cold.

Cate always stayed for breakfast. Or at least long enough to pretend she wasn’t staying. She’d steal one of your t-shirts, sip coffee with her legs curled up on the couch, pretend she didn’t care that her lipstick was still on your mouth.

Always.

Until now.

You sat up, scrubbing a hand over your face, throat already tight with the worst kind of knowing. The quiet kind. The kind that didn’t shout or slam doors. The kind that crawled under your ribs and stayed there.

Your phone buzzed once.

[Cate]: thanks for last night. see you around. xx

See you around.

Not “breakfast?” Not “come over tomorrow?” Not even the casual “let me know when you’re free” that had started to sound suspiciously like dating even though you’d never said the word.

You stared at the message until it blurred. Your chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself, slow and silent and stupid.

See you around.

Fuck.

By 3 p.m., you’d gone through three cups of coffee, one panic attack in the gym showers, and two half-drafted texts you couldn’t bring yourself to send.

One of them read:

hey, did i do something?

The other was:

i noticed you left early. you okay?

Neither felt right. Too much. Not enough.

Instead, you sent:

can we talk?

Ten minutes passed.

Then twenty.

Then forty-five.

Cate was always fast at texting back. Always.

You started pacing your room, hands on your hips, heart in your throat. You didn’t even have a name for what you were. Didn’t have a label for this thing—this weird, hot, messy thing where Cate let you in but only halfway. Where you pretended not to care when you left with lipstick on your neck and perfume still clinging to your skin.

But you cared. God, you fucking cared.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. The new lingerie. The silence. The way Cate had turned away from you in bed like it meant nothing.

But it had meant something. It had to.

Didn’t it?

Your phone buzzed again.

[Cate]: I guess. If you want to.

That shouldn’t have hurt. It did anyway.

Cate hadn’t been crying when you got there. Not at first.

She looked fine. Polished, even. Ponytail. Lip gloss. Wearing one of those expensive pajama sets that made her look like a 1950s housewife in therapy.

But you knew her too well now. Knew that the glossier Cate looked, the more fucked-up she probably felt.

You stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Hi.”

Cate nodded, stepping aside to let you in. She didn’t touch you. Didn’t smile.

You swallowed. “Did I do something?”

Cate blinked. “What?”

“I just—” You ran a hand through your hair. “You left before I woke up. And you never do that. And then you texted me like we were strangers, and now you’re—”

“I’m what?”

You exhaled, slow and shaky. “Distant.”

Cate laughed once, brittle and small. “You noticed?”

“Of course I noticed.”

You stared at each other for a second. Cate’s arms were folded tightly over her chest, like she was holding herself together through sheer willpower. You’d never wanted to touch someone so badly. Not even to kiss her. Just—to hold her. To fix it.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked quietly. “If I did, I’m sorry. I mean that.”

Cate’s expression cracked like glass.

“You didn’t say anything,” she whispered.

“What?”

“About the lingerie,” Cate said. “It was new. I wore it on purpose. I—I picked it out for you. And you didn’t even notice.”

Your heart stopped.

“Cate,” you said, stepping closer. “I noticed. I noticed the second you took off your dress.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Her voice broke on the last word.

“Because I thought I’d make it weird. I thought—God, I thought maybe it didn’t mean what I wanted it to mean. And if I said something and I was wrong, then I’d lose you. Or you’d laugh. Or worse—you’d look at me like I was pathetic.”

Cate’s eyes filled so fast it made you ache.

“You’re not pathetic,” she said, voice crumbling. “You’re just—brave in every way except this one.”

Your breath caught.

Cate wiped at her cheeks, frustrated. “I just wanted to know if you were thinking about me like that. If you wanted more. Because I do. I do, and I’m scared all the time that I want too much and you don’t want anything.”

“Cate—”

“I’m not good at this,” she went on. “I’m good at being hot and fuckable and mysterious. I’m not good at being chosen. Or loved. I’ve never been the person someone stays for.”

You didn’t mean to grab her. You just—moved.

You crossed the room and wrapped Cate in your arms, one hand in her hair, the other on her spine, pulling her in so tightly it felt like breathing again.

Cate melted.

“I notice everything about you,” you whispered into her temple. “I just didn’t know I was allowed to.”

Cate clung to her, trembling. “You are.”

You stood there for a long moment, forehead to forehead, breath shared in the hush between apologies.

Finally, Cate said, “So we’re both idiots.”

“Apparently.”

“Do you want to be idiots together?”

You smiled. “Only if we can make out about it.”

Cate laughed through her tears, then kissed you hard enough to make you both a little dizzy.

You woke up first.

That was rare. Cate was usually up before you—already dressed, already glossy, already pretending she hadn’t just spent the night curled against you like the world would end if you drifted apart. But not this morning.

This morning, Cate was soft and unguarded and still asleep, her lashes dark against her cheeks, mouth parted slightly as she breathed.

You watched her for a long time.

You didn’t mean to.

You just…couldn’t look away.

Cate looked young like this. Not in the helpless way—never that. Just quiet. Real. Her hand was resting on your stomach, fingers splayed like she was marking territory even in sleep. Her leg was draped over one of yours, blanket tangled between you.

Everything about it should’ve screamed we just fucked.

But you hadn’t.

You hadn’t even taken your clothes off.

Last night had been all crying and honesty and aching truth between tangled limbs, and then Cate had curled into your chest like a heartbeat and just…stayed.

You were still high from it.

Carefully, you slid your hand into Cate’s hair, combing through the strands, gentle as anything. Cate made a sleepy noise and burrowed closer.

“Mm. Hi,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

You smiled. “Hey.”

Cate blinked up at her, squinting. “You stayed.”

“I live here,” you said, deadpan. Clearly joking.

Cate whacked her lightly in the stomach. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” your hand settled on her waist. “You didn’t run.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

You searched her face. “You really want this?”

Cate’s brows knit. “You think I’d cry like that for someone I didn’t want?”

You were quiet.

Cate softened. “I want to try,” she said. “Whatever this is. But I don’t want to rush it. I mean—I do, obviously, I want to throw you down and ruin your life.”

You made a strangled noise.

Cate smiled. “But maybe we should…pace ourselves. Start over, kind of. Try being around each other without always ending up naked.”

You blinked. “Like…a no-sex thing?”

Cate bit her lip. “For a little while. Two weeks?”

You stared at her.

Cate quickly added, “We can still make out. And hang out. And flirt. And sleep in the same bed. Just—no sex. Let it build.”

You were still staring.

Cate’s confidence wavered. “Too much?”

You groaned and flopped backward. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“But is it a yes?”

You looked at her, eyes bright. “Yeah. It’s a yes.”

Cate beamed. “Okay. Two weeks.”

Somehow—against all odds—they’d made it to day three.

Except today? Today Cate was wearing glasses.

She didn’t need them—you knew that. But she wore them anyway, because apparently God wanted you to suffer.

You were seated across from each other in the campus library, Cate pretending to read from a psychology textbook, you pretending not to stare at the way her mouth moved when she chewed the end of her pen.

Cate looked up suddenly. “You’re not reading.”

“You’re chewing.”

“I always chew.”

“Yeah,” you muttered. “That’s the problem.”

Cate grinned and crossed her legs slowly under the table. You made the mistake of glancing down.

You’d made out in three different hallways earlier. Cate had whispered something filthy in your ear right before you walked into the library and then immediately started acting innocent, like she didn’t make you want to combust.

You scribbled something on a notecard and slid it across the table.

You’re evil.

Cate wrote back.

You love it.

You bit your lip. Smiled. God, you really do.

Day seven and the pact was still very much intact.

The weather was perfect for a picnic. You brought snacks. Cate brought sunscreen and emotional damage.

You spread out a blanket under one of the big oak trees by the music building and just…talked.

Like you were normal. Like this was something people did.

You played music off your phone. Cate stole all the watermelon and fell asleep with her head in your lap halfway through a Fleetwood Mac song.

You stroked her hair, feeling like your chest was too small for her heart.

When Cate woke, blinking slowly, she looked up at you with that undone expression—soft, tired, safe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she whispered.

“Like what?”

Cate turned onto her back, cheek still pressed to your thigh. “Like I’m something you want.”

You swallowed. “Because you are.”

Cate didn’t say anything. But she reached for your hand and threaded your fingers together, holding tight.

Day eleven was largely uneventful. Until Marie’s monthly movie night.

Cate sat so close on the couch that you thought your skin might ignite.

Emma kept glancing between you like she knew. Jordan, sprawled in a beanbag, said nothing but raised an eyebrow every time Cate laughed too hard at one of your dumb jokes.

Cate didn’t care. She leaned into your side like she belonged there.

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

No one said a word, but Emma texted you later:

did y’all get married during midterms or what the fuck is going on

You sent back:

it’s complicated

It was the last night of the pact. Fourteen days. No sex.

You’d made it.

To celebrate, you met on the roof of your dorm building, both a little early, both pretending you hadn’t been counting down the minutes. Cate had on one of your sweatshirts—massive on her, sleeves covering her hands. Her lip gloss was peachy-pink. Her cheeks were flushed.

You were already in pain.

You didn’t talk much at first. Just stood close, watching the campus lights blink on below you.

Cate spoke first.

“Do you think we’re better now?”

You looked over. “Better?”

“At this. At…trying.”

You considered it. “Yeah. I do.”

Cate smiled, slow and shy. “Me too.”

You turned to face her fully. Your heart in your throat.

“Cate.”

Cate met your eyes.

“I know we made a pact,” you said. “I know we’re technically still in the window.”

Cate tilted her head. “Are you asking to break it?”

“No.” You swallowed. “I’m asking if I can take you on a real date tomorrow night.”

Cate stared at you.

Like really stared.

And then—

“You mean like…” Her voice broke. “Public? Food? Reservations?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Like that. Like I come to your door and knock and tell you you look beautiful and open the car door and take you somewhere nice where I don’t try to fuck you in the bathroom.”

Cate blinked very fast.

You stepped closer. “You don’t have to say yes. I just—I wanted you to know I want that. I want to be your person. Not just your fuck, not just your fling. Your real thing.”

Cate made a small noise, then launched herself into your arms.

“Is that a yes?” You whispered against her temple.

Cate nodded into your shoulder. “Yes. God, yes.”

You held her tighter.

And somewhere below you, the world kept turning. Lights blinked. Cars passed. Someone started playing guitar in a neighboring dorm.

But on the rooftop, you just stood there, wrapped in each other like gravity didn’t exist.

Cate was buzzing—half excitement, half nerves—as she got ready for the evening. She kept checking the clock, adjusting her dress, touching up her eyeliner because tonight could change the trajectory of their lives forever. No pressure, though.

There was a knock.

Cate froze mid-lipstick.

A knock. Not a text. Not a here or a let me in.

A knock.

She pressed a hand to her chest for a second, willing her heart not to punch its way out through her ribs, then grabbed her perfume bottle and misted twice—once at her neck, once at her wrist—and opened the door.

And nearly passed out.

You stood in the hallway in a perfectly tailored black suit. No tie. Shirt unbuttoned at the throat. A thin silver chain glinting above your collar. Your hair was styled in that slightly messy, I got ready in five minutes but still look criminally hot way. And in your hands—

A bouquet.

Of peonies. And ranunculus. And roses.

Cate’s favorite.

She didn’t even know you knew the word ranunculus.

“Oh my god,” Cate whispered.

You grinned, nervous. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Cate said, taking the flowers automatically. “You’re in a suit.”

“You’re in a dress.”

Cate looked down at herself—sleek black silk, open back, heels that made her legs look insane—and then back at you, shifting your weight like you were shy.

You. Shy.

Cate was in danger.

“You look…” you paused, exhaling. “Like trouble.”

“Good trouble?”

“The best kind.”

Cate hid a smile in the flowers. “You’re allergic to these.”

You shrugged. “Worth it.”

Cate’s face did something embarrassing.

“Ready?” you asked.

Cate nodded. “Just let me grab my purse.”

Luke’s car was clean. Suspiciously clean.

You opened the door for her like some kind of movie boyfriend, even waited until she was buckled before walking around to the driver’s side.

“You detailed this?”

“Marie made me. She said if you got in and saw crumbs, I’d never get to touch you again.”

Cate laughed. “Smart girl.”

You smiled, a little crooked. “I really want to impress you.”

“You already do.”

You’d even made a reservation in the city.

Cate hadn’t even known you could make reservations. She wasn’t even sure you knew how OpenTable worked. But here you were, being led to a corner booth in a warm, bustling Italian place lit by low chandeliers and candles in wine bottles.

Cate slid into the booth across from you, heels kicking gently against your boots under the table.

You glanced down at the table, then at her. “So.”

“So,” Cate said, chin propped in her hand.

“You’re not nervous at all, are you?”

“I’m always nervous,” Cate said. “I just hide it better.”

You grinned. “Fair.”

You ordered. Cate asked the waiter what wine he recommended and actually listened to the answer, which made you stare at her like she’d just recited poetry.

You talked about classes. About music. About a professor who definitely hated you and possibly had a crush on Cate. You shared bruschetta and Cate moaned a little too enthusiastically over the burrata, and you said, “Jesus, you’re gonna get us kicked out,” and Cate just smiled with tomato on her lip like she was doing it on purpose.

Halfway through the meal, you reached across the table and took her hand.

Just—held it.

No fanfare. No commentary.

Cate’s heart hiccuped.

She squeezed back.

Later, with the city humming around them and the night stretching wide and warm, you walked side by side through Central Park—closer now, changed in some quiet, permanent way.

You walked slowly, Cate’s heels clicking against the pavement while you carried a little paper bowl of overpriced lavender-lemon gelato. Cate had insisted on one scoop, one spoon, which had been cute until she started stealing the biggest bites and making eye contact while doing it.

You were red from the ears down.

You found a bench. Sat close. Arms touching.

Cate licked the spoon, slow. “So.”

“So,” you echoed.

“This was nice.”

“It was.”

“I had a good time.”

“I’m gonna cry if you don’t kiss me soon.”

Cate blinked. Then smiled. “Really?”

You gave her the smallest, softest look. “Cate, I’ve wanted to kiss you since we left the dorm. I’ve wanted to kiss you since you opened the door. Since the first time you walked into my life and insulted my shoes.”

“They were hideous.”

“They were beloved,” you said solemnly.

Cate set the spoon down in the empty bowl.

Then cupped your face with both hands.

And kissed you.

Not like the other kisses—hot and urgent and pressed against doors or tangled in bedsheets.

This one was slow. Certain. The kind of kiss that says, I want everything with you. I’ll wait. I’ll try.

Your hand came up to cradle her waist.

You stayed like that for a long time.

When you finally pulled back, Cate rested her forehead against yours.

“Okay,” she whispered. “So maybe this is real.”

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. It is.”

Cate reached for your hand again, fingers weaving through yours.

“Wanna make out in the backseat of Luke’s car?”

You choked on air. “Cate.”

“I didn’t say more than make out.”

“You’re a menace.”

Cate batted her lashes. “But I’m your menace.”

You laughed. Loud and real and completely in love.

And when you walked back to the car, still hand in hand, you thought, I want this every Saturday. Every morning. Every life.

You slid into the backseat like you were stepping into something private—something soft and delicious. The front seats were pushed forward just enough so your knees met, pressing into each other’s. Cate’s heels were off, tossed beside her like an afterthought. You had unbuttoned your suit jacket, chest open in that way that said both vulnerability and invitation.

“Okay…” you whispered, voice a mix of caution and need.

Cate leaned in, forehead to forehead. “Okay.”

Your lips met slow—testing the water, pulling back, murmuring breathless laughs. It was electric enough to charge the car, raw enough to make you both catch your breath. Cate’s hands fumbled with your shirt buttons, and you wove your fingers into Cate’s hair as if you were holding a lifeline.

Every kiss was a promise: we’re past the fuck-only games, past the no-sex pact, past all the shit we used to say to keep it easy. This was intimacy. This was dangerous. This was everything.

Cate’s fingertips traced under your collar, the faint scent of your suit mingling with the lavender gelato from earlier, and your breath hitched.

You paused, lips hovering at Cate’s earlobe. “We need—”

“Shh,” Cate whispered, pressing her mouth against your jaw, neck, collarbone. She moved with confidence, reclaiming what you’d both been staking a claim on for weeks. No hurry, just worship.

Your knees grazed. Thighs rubbed. Breathing got quicker. Your hand moved lower, brushing over the soft lace of Cate’s dress—which was risky, considering the no-sex pact had just expired. But you both knew: tonight wasn’t about breaking rules. It was about exploring new territory, together.

Cate gasped when your fingers dipped under the fabric, skimming her hip. “Baby…”

“Yeah?” you murmured into Cate’s hair.

“I think Luke’s car is…endorsing this.”

You laughed softly, teeth nipping at her collar. “Come on,” you whispered back, voice thick. “Let me show you how much.”

Cate drew you in again. Your bodies pressed close, voices lost to ragged kisses and murmured names. The glow from the parking lot light filtered through the glass, haloing you in a blur of anonymity—a world away from dorm rooms and half-formed feelings.

You broke for air finally, foreheads together, chest to chest, both trembling.

“Are you okay?” you asked, voice gentle.

“Yeah,” Cate whispered. “Better than I’ve ever been.”

You cupped her face. “Same.”

You kissed again—slow at first, then deeper, as if catching up for all the time you’d held back. Clothes wrinkled. Heat pooled. But the magic wasn’t in the horny energy; it was in the closeness, the safety, the joy of touching someone who finally asked to hold you and meant it.

Eventually, you checked the time on your phone. “We should probably—”

Cate sat up slightly, hair mussed, face glowing. “Yeah.”

But neither of you moved to leave.

Instead, you gathered your arm around Cate’s shoulders and tugged her into a spooning position, legs curled in, head tucked into her neck. Cate’s hand found yours and held it tight.

You fell silent, letting the engine’s hum and night air fill the space between you. A moment after midnight, and everything felt just right—unrushed, safe, and exactly what you’d needed.

“Good date?” Cate asked, voice muffled.

“The best,” you whispered back. “Let’s do this again.”

Cate squeezed your hand. “Definitely.”

You stayed there together—no rush, no pretense, just real and warm in the backseat of Luke’s car—both of you feeling a little drunk on possibility, and more in love than either of you dared to admit until now.

It should’ve been the beginning of something easy.

But instead, the next few days unfolded in careful restraint.

No sleepovers. No sex. Just kisses in stairwells, long glances across classrooms, and the way your hand would brush Cate’s lower back as you walked side by side, close but never too close.

It was maddening. Perfect. A slow burn Cate couldn’t shake.

By Thursday, she was wound tight and glowing with nerves.

She’d planned the perfect surprise—just the right balance of lace, confidence, and please take me apart. All you had to do was walk through the door.

Now she was painfully, suspiciously calm.

She’d worn her hair down on purpose. Laughed too hard at your jokes at lunch. Spent a frankly unholy amount of time trying on lingerie in front of her mirror after class, talking herself in and out of each pair like she was choosing a weapon for war.

This one was the winner.

Midnight blue lace, barely-there, with a tiny velvet ribbon at the waistband. No hearts this time. No hopeful little bow. Just elegance. Confidence. Pick me, and know I pick you right back.

She tucked it under a silk robe and waited for the knock.

You showed up with snacks and your guitar, acting like you didn’t already know you’d be sleeping over. But the moment you stepped inside and saw Cate—curled on the edge of her bed, robe slipping off one shoulder, a smile just this side of wicked—everything in you short-circuited.

Cate stood. Moved slowly. Closed the distance between you with a kind of quiet certainty.

“Hey,” she said, soft.

“Hey,” you echoed, already breathless.

“You staying?” Cate asked, voice velvet.

You didn’t answer.

You just leaned in and kissed her.

It started sweet. Familiar. The kind of kiss you give your person after a long day, when you’ve missed their mouth even though you saw them five hours ago. But then Cate pulled at your shirt, tugging it over your head, and things went molten fast.

You tumbled back onto the bed, laughing breathlessly into each other’s mouths. Cate pulled her robe loose, letting it fall away as you hovered above her, lips brushing the hinge of her jaw.

And then—

You saw them.

The panties.

And froze.

Your hand paused at Cate’s hip, fingers just brushing the lace. Your eyes widened.

“You—” you blinked. Swallowed. “You wore new ones again.”

Cate’s stomach dropped. “You noticed?”

“Cate,” you breathed, reverent. “How could I not?”

You sat back on your knees a little, just enough to look. Cate flushed under the attention—hot, pink, adored.

“These are…” you dragged your fingertips along the edge of the lace. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Cate tried for coy. “I mean. You didn’t say anything last time.”

You looked at her, the weight of it settling in your eyes. “Yeah. And I’ve regretted it every day since.”

Cate’s lips parted.

“I noticed those too,” you went on. “The pink ones. The hearts. The little bow. I just…I got scared. That it meant something.”

“It did mean something,” Cate whispered.

“I know that now.”

You leaned in. Kissed just above the waistband.

Then lower.

And again, just at the inside of her hip.

Cate’s breath hitched.

“These,” you said, voice rough, “mean something too. Don’t they?”

Cate nodded. “They mean I wanted you. Tonight. On purpose.”

You met her eyes. “I want you too. Still. Always.”

Cate’s hands curled in your hair, tugging you in. The kiss that followed was desperate. Heated. Laced with all the restraint you’d shed since the pact ended and your love stopped hiding.

And this time—when you kissed your way down and pulled the lace aside with slow, worshipful fingers—Cate felt seen.

Not just wanted. Known.

After, Cate was sprawled like a queen.

Flat on her back, robe discarded on the floor, lips kiss-swollen and hair an absolute mess. She looked ruined in the most luxurious way—like she'd just been thoroughly adored and hadn't stopped smiling since.

You lay beside her on your stomach, cheek pillowed against the bare curve of Cate’s hip, one arm draped across her stomach like you were trying to anchor yourself there. Your breath was still a little uneven. Your body still humming.

“Okay,” Cate said, voice lazy, satisfied. “So you do care about my underwear.”

You groaned into her skin. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying.” Cate turned her head, grinning. “Took you long enough.”

“You don’t understand,” you mumbled. “They were so intense. You wore literal embroidered hearts. It was a statement.”

“I was trying to get your attention!”

“You had it,” you muttered. “You’ve always had it.”

Cate’s smile faltered slightly. Softened.

She reached down and carded her fingers through your damp hair, gentle and rhythmic. “You could’ve told me.”

You tilted your head just enough to look up. “I didn’t want to fuck it up.”

“You couldn’t have.”

“I almost did.”

Cate was quiet for a second. Then: “But you didn’t.”

You turned fully onto your side, propping your chin on Cate’s stomach. “Yeah. Somehow.”

You looked at each other for a moment in the low light—Cate’s bedside lamp glowing amber, casting shadows across your freckles, your still-reddened cheeks, the way your lips curved upwards just barely like you didn’t even know you were smiling.

Cate nudged you. “You were really good.”

You blinked. “At the date?”

“Sure. That too.”

Your ears went pink.

Cate giggled, threading a leg through your. “God, you’re so easy to fluster.”

“You’re so mean.”

“I’m not! I’m sweet. And thoughtful. And I wear special panties just for you.”

You groaned again and collapsed against her. “You’re never gonna let this go.”

“Not a chance.”

A beat passed.

Then, quietly—

“Cate?”

Cate hummed.

“Can I say something kind of stupid?”

Cate looked down at you, hand still in your hair. “Always.”

You hesitated. Then, softly: “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Cate’s chest ached.

“I know that’s probably pathetic,” you added quickly. “But I—I didn’t think this kind of thing got to be mine. You. Us. Something real. Something that doesn’t come with an expiration date.”

Cate leaned down and kissed you gently. Just once.

“It’s not pathetic,” she said. “It’s perfect.”

You buried your face in her stomach.

Cate played with a strand of your hair. “I think I might buy another pair.”

Your voice was muffled. “Of what?”

Cate smiled. “Special panties.”

You immediately sat up, eyes wide. “Are you trying to kill me again?”

Cate just grinned. “Maybe.”

You growled, lunged forward, and tackled her back into the pillows.

You kissed until you were breathless all over again, laughter tangled in your mouths, a future together spilling out across the bed like sunlight.

♡ | say something

[frickingnerd]

dating hawks / keigo takami

pairing: keigo takami / hawks x gn!reader

tags: wholesome fluff, established relationship, overprotective & jealous boyfriend!hawks, physical affection (kissing & touching)

hawks has lots of dating experience and it's kind of intimidating to know how much. he has been asked on countless dates already!

you might not want to introduce hawks to your friends, knowing the effect he has on women. they are likely already crushing on him and meeting the flirty bird would just make things worse…

hawks fell in love with you quickly, but didn't admit to himself right away how serious he was about his feelings for you

he’s really direct and can express his feelings well, if he chooses to do so. but teasing and joking around is just so much more fun to him~

he also doesn't blush too easily, but if you manage to catch him off guard, you might get to see your boyfriend get all red and flustered!

hawks is really protective and stupidly reckless. he would get himself killed for you, so you have to try to keep him out of trouble

and hawks is pretty jealous too! he knows what it's like to have a lot of admirers and he doesn't like his partner having those too. he's scared you would be too nice and couldn't reject your admirer, so hawks always sticks around you and tells anyone getting too close to you to back off!

hawks is really clingy, but only if nobody else is around. sure, if others are there he'll still keep an arm around you, but if they are alone he will shower you with kisses!

he also loves getting really sweet present for you or just surprise you with a date! those often include flying across the city to your date destination

[emchante]

Hiiiii!!! I’m sending a request for the now playing fic in your 1000 follower special!! Could you write with she’s thunderstorms by Arctic Monkeys, fluff & smut w/ Franco Colapinto??? If you do I’ll actually love you forever 💋💋

he's thunderstorms | f. colapinto

hello, nonnie! thank you so much for submitting. this is a song i had never heard before, so i had a look into the lyrics and general idea— so i hope this suffices! also, title is intentionally he, i promise it's not a typo<3

franco colapinto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ content, pretty suggestive, making out mainly, teasing, biting, sexual tension.

you could feel it before he even touched you. the tension in the air, building and swirling, charging the space between you and franco with every passing second. it was like you were a storm about to break, the heat of his gaze igniting the atmosphere around you.

you’d both been dancing around each other for weeks—flirty smiles, lingering touches, but always holding back just enough to keep it from spilling over. but tonight was different. tonight, the storm was inevitable, it wasn’t going to just pass like usual.

“stop playing,” franco murmured, his voice low as he caught your wrist, pulling you into him with a force that made your breath hitch, “i can see right through you.”

your lips twitched into a grin, fluttering your lashes at him to add to your teasing. “can you?”

“yes,” he leaned down, his mouth brushing against your ear, “you want me, just as badly as i want you.”

you bit your lip, trying to fight off the heat flooding your body. "maybe," you teased in a sing-song voice, letting your fingers trace the line of his jaw.

franco's eyes darkened, his grip tightening as his lips crashed onto yours. it wasn’t soft, not the way it had been before. this kiss was raw, filled with hunger and urgency, like he had been waiting for this moment. just like you had. his hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, pulling you closer, as if trying to feel every inch of you at once.

you moaned softly against his mouth, your body reacting to him with a need that was almost desperate. “franco…” you whispered against his lips before kissing him again, hands moving to tug at his shirt.

but he pulled away just enough to look at you, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. “patience, ah?” he teased, the storm in his eyes intensifying. “i’m not done with you yet, princesa.”

you couldn’t help the frustrated groan that slipped from your lips, “god you’re insufferable, you know that?” you huffed, eyes not leaving his stupidly handsome face.

“you love it,” he teased, his hand running up your side, fingers brushing against your soft skin, sending shivers through you. his smirk only grew at the visible reaction, fingers repeating their journey up and down.

his lips met your neck then, biting gently, teasingly, and you gasped, arching into him, your hands gripping his shoulders. you were quick to notice his erection pressing against your core, setting your body on fire all over again. “fuck– franco…”

he lifted his head, meeting your eyes with a mixture of dominance and tenderness. “i told you, cariño,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours again. “you’re mine tonight, hm?”

you let out a soft laugh as you attempted to hold yourself together, the sound breathless and caught between desire and amusement, “is that so?”

his hands moved lower, his fingers tracing the hem of your dress. “absolutely,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. his fingers continued to move even lower, moving to cup your ass as he groped it, your hips instinctively bucking against his own at the squeeze.

you didn’t waste a moment. without warning, you pushed him back onto the bed, your body on top of his, your lips capturing his in a searing kiss that was everything—fierce, passionate, and undeniable.

and when you finally pulled back, your breaths heavy and ragged with swollen lips to go along with it, you could feel it—like the calm after the storm. the electricity in the room, the intensity, the rawness of everything that had just happened.

franco’s chest rose and fell beneath you, his hand threading through your hair as he pulled you close. “you think you can handle my storms?” he asked, voice low, his lips brushing against your ear.

you smiled, fingers tracing the lines of his chest, “i’m not scared of a little thunder, you should go the full way next time,” you murmured, leaving a plethora of soft kisses over his face.

[heizouz]

nsfw sub!lyney + implied amab!reader, no pronouns used but reader has a dick, rlly messy and needy, lyney is called a whore twice

i saw this in a vision and just started writing and didn't stop.. it's kinda long.. havent proof read idk if i even want to reread it. a bit crazier than my usual stuff (it's not) + the ending fuckin sucks bc i had no ideas. n e way love u guys and cockwhore lyney

there's something about stupidly needy, stupidly flirty lyney that drives me absolutely crazy.

lyney getting ready for a performance, most of his outfit put together other than his cape that's usually draped around his shoulder still hanging up behind the door. his hair is perfectly done, braid tight and the light pink streaks freshly dyed to accent his outfit colours. his hat is somewhere, but you can't see it from where you're standing by the door.

lyney’s bent over the vanity table, elbows resting on the wood while he holds his eyeliner up to his eyes, drawing a little dark wing on his right eye to match his left. from where you are, you've got a perfect view of how he perfects his makeup through the mirror, how he tilts his head to the side to make sure it's symmetrical to the other side, how he arches his back slightly to get closer to the mirror, how he pushes his ass out and sways his hips when he knows your eyes are raking over his entire body. he's teasing you without words, ever so slightly casting his eyes over to you through the mirror when he presses his chest against the vanity desk and lets out a quiet moan which could be passed off as him stretching but you know from the way the edges of his lips tilt upwards that he's doing it entirely on purpose.

you cross your arms, body weight leaning against the door frame of the wide open door to his dressing room and just watch as he continues to show himself off to you with flirty little smiles and obscenely stupid moans every time he presents his ass out in his stupidly tight shorts. anyone walking past the dressing room could look in and suspect nothing but the magician applying his makeup for his upcoming performance yet there was something so explicit in the way lyney moved his hips in front of you that anyone peeking in would think it was a pornographic display.

lyney squeezes his thighs together when he meets your eyes in the mirror and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth in a cheeky grin, going back to still trying to perfect his eyeliner. he doesn't pay any attention to you now, focused on getting his makeup’s angle right and flaunting his pretty body to you to.

so he doesn't notice when you pull yourself off the door, quietly closing it behind you and crossing through the room to where he's entirely bent over the desk. when he sees you through the mirror though, his eyes seem to light up and he immediately pushes his ass back to meet your hips when you stop to stand behind him.

you raise an eyebrow slightly, but your hands drop to his hips, fingers pressing into the material of his clothes and you lean over his back a little, forcing him to stay pressed against the vanity.

“you enjoying yourself?” you ask, voice deep as you push your hips hard against his ass, watching the way lyney struggles to hold the eyeliner against his skin when he moans quietly and immediately sway his hips back to seek the feeling he's been needing.

the magician hums, eyes fluttering closed, pulling his eyeliner away from his face so he doesn't fuck up his makeup as your hands press his hips down against the wood of his desk, moving to kneeding his ass despite the shorts that hardly cover anything anyway. “i am now.” lyney breathlessly says, hand curling into a fist at the friction of his clothes and the desk against his aching cock. you can't help but smirk a little, pressing your lips across his shoulder and whispering a small “yeah?” in his ear that he nods so obediently to.

“you're gonna be late to your performance if you keep this up.” you mumble, moaning under your breath when lyney forces his hips back against you harshly. the magician smiles at you, blinking at you through the mirror even though you're focused on the way he's moving his ass against you so needily.

“not if we're quick.”

it’s your turn to hum now and you grab the eyeliner from his hand - lyney whines in response, eyes glaring at you through the mirror - and put it somewhere on the desk before grabbing lyney's hips and spinning him around. the boy gasps, hands gripping the edge of the vanity for support until you force him to the floor. lyney just accepts it, bracing himself on his knees in front of you, almost hitting his head on the desk from the speed.

your fingers hit the bottom of his chin, tilting his head up to look at you and he does, eyes big and needy, that stupid flirty grin tugging at his lips. “don't wanna ruin your outfit, baby,” you faux pout, fingers dancing across his jaw and cheek before your thumb lands on his bottom lip, “so put your pretty mouth to good use, yeah?”

lyney is almost immediate with his ministrations. his hands go to your belt, tugging at the buckle as you press your fingers against his lips for him to open. he does, parting his lips for you to slip your fingers in and he moans around them, eyes glancing up all pretty with his performance makeup on. he takes your fingers in his mouth so nicely, wetting them for no reason other than to please you until he gets your pants down and his lips around your cock.

he presses desperate kisses along your cock once he's freed it, working his way up to the tip and wrapping his pretty lips around you while his hands curl around the rest. you moan quietly, so badly wanting to grab his hair and force his head down to take all of you but you're wary that he has to be out on stage soon and you can't risk explaining to the hair and makeup department what happened. so you settle with brushing your thumb over his cheek as lyney giggles and whines as he kisses the tip of your cock again.

“such a pretty eager whore today.” you sigh, grabbing lyney's jaw to urge him to take your cock, which he does with ease, lips parting to take you almost fully and you can feel the whimper he let out at the name around your cock. “bet you'd take anyone's cock if they'd walked in on you bent over like that, wouldn't you?”

you're teasing, trying to rile him up fully knowing he's not anything but your baby. it works though, and lyney whines around your cock, the vibrations punching a groan from your throat and he pulls off to glare up at you. “wouldn't.” he says, stroking the length of your cock as his lips press against the underside where he knows you're sensitive. you grin a little, moaning through a smile and lyney drags his tongue up the length of your cock, eyes blinking prettily up at you to flirt despite your cock in his mouth. he looks so perfect like this, on his knees in front of you, makeup glittery and pink, eyes bright and glassy, lips parted around you, so eager to please even though he's on timetable.

he takes you so well, one hand stroking whatever he can't fit in his mouth and the other grabbing your shirt to ground himself. he's being careful though, not showing off and you narrow your eyes a little. your hand finds the back of his head, careful not to mess with his hair and you press him forward to take your cock further. lyney whimpers, both hands grabbing the backs of your thighs and eyes widely looking up at you. he takes it though, letting his lips stretch around the length of your cock until he can't anymore and his pretty violet eyes start to glass over with tears.

“that's it, good boy.” you groan, head falling back slightly at the warmth of his mouth. lyney tries to blink back his tears, not wanting to smudge his eyeliner but he's so needy and your cock is filling his mouth so well that it's making it difficult. you finally let go though, and lyney pulls off of you with a gasp, instantly whining and going to stroke your cock like a good boy. the magician rubs his thighs together, pressing his lips needily over your cock and when you glance back down at him he immediately goes to take you again.

you moan, catching the way the boy is pressing his thighs together so desperate for friction. so you gently part his legs with your foot and lightly press your shoe against his aching cock over his shorts. lyney cries around your cock, immediately bucking against your shoe and fingers curling into the material of your shirt. his eyes fill with tears once again from the pleasure he needed, making sure to eagerly bob his head along your cock as a thank you.

he knew you wouldn't let him cum since he had to be on stage in probably ten minutes from now, but he was grateful nonetheless for some sort of relief. lyney closes his eyes to force back his tears when your shoe presses against the tip of his cock through his shorts, loud moans bleeding from around your cock. you're close now, and you let lyney know with a hand on the back of his head and cursing out.

“f-fuck, gonna cum baby,” you're breathless, eyes dropping to see lyney crack his eyes open to watch you, “as much as i want to see your pretty face covered, can’t today.”

lyney's eyes plead, small whine ripping from his throat with a frown, pulling off to suck the head of your cock and you jolt a little, stomach coiling. “g-god, baby open your mouth.” you grab your cock once lyney rips himself off, obeying and lips parting at your command. he sits like a good boy when you stroke yourself to release, eyes glimmering with need as you cum on his tongue, lips closing around you gently to help you through. you let out a mantra of moans as you come down, letting lyney lick and mouth up your length, making a mess all over your cock, not caring about the cum and saliva dripping from your cock and his pretty lips.

you pull him off of you, thumb going to clean the mess off his face and press into his mouth which lyney just takes with need, moaning around your thumb.

“pretty whore.”

lyney giggles, pressing a kiss against your cock to tease when you drop your thumb from his mouth. if it weren't for the growing noise of people from the hallway outside, you're sure lyney would've skipped his performance to stay on his knees all night for you.

[nameless-jamie]

Perfectly Blended

A Jamie Tartt x reader Short Story

Masterlist

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x fem! make-up artist reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scene/language, kissing

A/N: This ff is inspired by the idea/request of @shadowyhologramlady thank you so much! Please give her a follow if you like!

AFC Richmond’s training ground wasn’t exactly the kind of place one expects to see an array of makeup brushes and highlighters laid out like surgical tools. But here she was, Y/N Y/L/N, leaning against a counter in the locker room, organizing her kit while waiting for Keeley to finish her meeting with Rebecca.

It all started rather fast. Y/N certainly didn't expect to get a call from Keeley Jones at midnight six months ago, tipsy off rosé, begging her to help out with AFC Richmond’s media team because “footballers need good skin too, babe. For their interviews and sponsorships.”

Y/N's actual main job was being a freelance makeup artist, working with models, influencers, and even the occasional musician. But suddenly her best friend Keeley hooked her up with this job. Ever since Keeley convinced Rebecca to let her run the club’s marketing, Y/N’d been roped into working part-time (recently more like full-time) at Richmond, mostly for media days and promotional shoots.

So, Y/N's new daily job was standing in the club’s locker room, arranging her makeup kit on the counter, and waiting for the players to get ready for their touch-ups before interviews.

All while Jamie Tartt—actual Premier League star, occasional pain in the ass, and her best friend’s biggest headache—watched her like she was performing some magic trick.

“Oi, what’s all this then?” Jamie said while touching a beauty blender that was laid out on the table.

Y/N glanced up at Jamie, who was dripping with post-training sweat, hair pushed back with his signature headband. He smelled like overpriced cologne and whatever soap they used in the showers, and despite how ridiculous it was, the combination made her brain short-circuit for half a second.

“It’s called makeup, Jamie,” she teased, holding up a brush. “Surely you’ve heard of it.”

“Oh, I know what makeup is. My mum watches Love Island, innit?” He smirked, crossing his arms as he eyed the foundations and powders spread out before them.

"That's... lovely Jamie."

“So, you’re tellin’ me they actually pay you to do this?” Jamie asked, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

Without looking up again, Y/N sighed. “No, Jamie, I break into the training ground every week just for fun.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Wouldn’t be surprised. Bet you love bein’ around me.”

She finally glanced up, raising a brow. “Yeah, Jamie. I keep doing footballers' makeup so I can powder your pretty little nose all day.”

“See? Knew it.”

She rolled her eyes, but the truth was, she had known Jamie for a while now. And they've had this flirty tension ever since they met.

You see, they know each other through Keeley. Y/N and Keeley had been inseparable since their early days in the industry—back when Keeley was a model and Y/N was just starting out as a makeup artist. Their friendship had landed Y/N some of her first big gigs, and eventually, when Keeley transitioned into PR, she had this idea and pulled Y/N along for the ride.

That was how she officially ended up working part-time at AFC Richmond, doing touch-ups for media days, promotional shoots, and the occasional interview. And that was also how she ended up crossing paths with Jamie Tartt.

Jamie, who had been Keeley’s ex. Jamie, who had a reputation for being both unbearably cocky and stupidly attractive. Jamie, who flirted with her in a way that was definitely not friendly, despite Keeley’s constant eye-rolls and smirks whenever she caught them talking. "God, just fuck and get it over with." Keeley's words.

There was something about him—something infuriatingly charming, something Y/N refused to acknowledge as attraction, even though she knew deep down that was exactly what it was.

Jamie liked to push.

And she liked pushing right back.

Which was why it was so easy to smirk at him now and say, “Are you just here to annoy me, or did you actually need something?”

Jamie shrugged. “Bit of both.”

She sighed dramatically, turning back to her kit. “Alright, well, unless you need concealer for those eye bags—”

“Oi! I don’t have eye bags.”

She smirked. “—or maybe some setting powder for that sweaty forehead of yours—”

“Not sweaty, I’m glistening.”

“—then I’m busy.”

Jamie chuckled, stepping closer. “Alright, fine. Maybe I was thinkin’… you ever need a model for that little makeup account of yours, I could do it.”

That actually made her pause. “You? Model for me? On my Instagram?”

“Yeah,” Jamie said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I reckon I’d look dead fit with a bit of contour.”

She snorted. “You already think you look dead fit, Tartt.”

“Yeah, but now imagine it with highlight. Drop dead gorgeous.”

She eyed him suspiciously, trying to gauge whether or not he was joking. But no—he was giving her that smug, lopsided grin, dimples out in full force, because he knew exactly what he was doing.

And the worst part? It was working.

“…Fine,” she relented, pointing a brush at him. “But if I do this, you have to sit still and actually listen to me.”

Jamie pressed a hand to his chest. “Swear on me mum’s life.”

She rolled her eyes but gestured for him to sit.

He dropped into the chair, looking way too pleased with himself as she stood in between his legs and pumped a little foundation onto the back of her hand.

“You better not make me look like a dickhead, love.”

“No promises,” she muttered, dabbing the sponge onto his face.

The second it touched his cheek, Jamie flinched.

“Jesus Christ, that’s cold!”

She snorted. “Oh, suck it up, you get tackled for a living.”

Jamie huffed but let her continue, even as his skin warmed under her touch. His lashes were stupidly long up close, and he kept watching her with that same smug glint in his eye.

“This your favorite part?” Jamie mused.

She didn’t look up. “What, applying foundation?”

“Nah,” he said, smirking. “Touchin’ my face.”

She paused just long enough for his grin to widen.

“Oh my God,” she muttered. “You are so full of yourself.”

Jamie leaned back slightly, still grinning. “Yeah, but you usually love it.”

She ignored him and grabbed a brow gel, brushing up his eyebrows.

“That shit feels weird.”

“Looks good, though.”

Jamie waggled his brows. “Look at you givin' me compliments now. Told you I’d be a good model.”

"I mean you are a handsome man, don't see why you wouldn't be a good model." She mumbled fully concentrated.

"I mean, I personally think you're fuckin' fit—"

"Shhhh." She shushed him by applying some chapstick before he could say something that would make her go fucking feral for him.

Jamie gave her a knowing smirk, making her laugh. “Am I bein' good so far? Behavin'?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, picking up a soft bronzer. “Okay, now let’s give you some definition.”

His smirk deepened. “Thought you said I already had too much definition.”

“Okay, first of all—” You pointed at him with the brush. “You should not be that smug about having cheekbones.”

“Can’t help it, babe. Genetics, innit?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you dusted bronzer along his jaw. “Second of all, if you interrupt me again, I’m putting glitter on you.”

Jamie gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “You wouldn’t.”

You held up a shimmery highlighter. “Try me.”

He eyed it warily before sitting up straighter. “Right, sorry I’ll be good.”

Once she was done, she stepped back to admire her work.

“There. You look ridiculously good, Jamie.”

Nah, you have to realize he looked good before, but now...fuck.

Jamie turned to the mirror, tilting his head like he was properly analyzing himself. “Not bad,” he admitted, rubbing a thumb along his jaw—before she swatted his hand away.

“Do not mess it up, I still need pictures.”

Jamie sighed dramatically. “Right, right. The things I do for the arts.”

She grabbed her phone, snapping a few shots as he posed like a model—one hand under his chin, then a serious smolder, then holding a football like he was starring in some Vogue athlete feature. She couldn’t stop laughing, especially when he gave her the full Zoolander pose.

Eventually, after the last photo, Jamie leaned back in his chair and gave her a look—one that was softer than before, a little more genuine. She was still standing in between his legs admiring the photos she took of him.

“You’re actually really good at this, y’know.”

She blinked, momentarily thrown. “Thanks, Jamie.”

He tilted his head. “How come you don’t do, like… big celebrities and that, anymore?”

She shrugged. “I do, sometimes. But I like working with people I know. Plus, the football stuff is fun and Keeley keeps me busy and well-paid here.”

Jamie hummed, then suddenly said, “Bet you’d be dead fit with a bit of blush.”

She frowned. “I am wearing blush, Jamie.”

He smirked. “Yeah, but I mean, like… if I put it on you. Let me try.”

Before she could respond, Jamie grabbed the blush brush from her kit, twirling it between his fingers.

“C’mon,” he said, tilting his head. “Fair’s fair.”

She crossed her arms. “Do you even know how to use that?”

Jamie shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

She sighed but let him dust the blush across her cheek. His fingers brushed her skin lightly as he blended it in—careful, gentle. The teasing was still there, but the air between them shifted.

Jamie wasn’t just playing around anymore.

She could feel it in the way he was watching her.

The brush faltered, then slowly dropped.

Y/N shook her head, trying not to heat up too much under his gaze. “Well, thanks for letting me use your face.”

“I'd let you use my face anytime,” he said easily while giving her his signature smirk. Neither of them were moving.

Y/N glanced up. “Oh really?” At this point, she was indulging him.

She could still feel the warmth of his fingertips lingering against her skin. His gaze flickered from her eyes to her lips—quick, instinctive.

Her breath hitched.

Jamie exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

She wasn’t sure who leaned in first.

Maybe it was him. Maybe it was her.

Maybe it had been a long time coming.

But before she could overthink it, before she could talk herself out of it—Jamie’s lips brushed against hers, sending a spark down her spine.

She didn’t pull away.

Instead, her fingers curled into the fabric of his training jersey, tugging him closer as he kissed her—soft, but firm, like he’d been waiting for this just as much as she had.

His hand came up to her jaw, the same one that had been holding the brush just moments ago, now tilting her face just right as he deepened the kiss. He tasted faintly of mint gum and something sweet, something him, and it was dizzying how easily she melted into it.

Jamie smirked against her lips. “Told you you’d look good with blush.”

She huffed a laugh. “Shut up.”

And then she kissed him again.

[dioslesbianwife]

HII! I'm super glad you're feeling better now!💕

Can I perhaps get kakyoin x reader who loves to tease him? But plot twist one day he teases her back until she's a blushing mess (pretty corny ngl but it love it sooo much😭)

Please and thank you!!💕💕

sure! hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting <333

You lived to tease Kakyoin.

It started out simple. A cheeky comment here, a lingering look there. Maybe a little flirty jab at his smooth hands when he reached for something, or a dramatic sigh whenever he fixed his hair.

The best part? He always reacted.

Whether it was rolling his eyes, adjusting his sunglasses to hide the faintest pink on his cheeks, or a deadpan "Very funny, (Y/N),” it was obvious that you were getting to him.

And you loved it.

But then, one fateful day…

He fought back.

It started subtly.

You had leaned in with a teasing grin, resting your chin on your hand. "Kakyoin, you look so serious all the time. Don’t you ever get flustered? Or do I have to try harder?"

Kakyoin exhaled through his nose, giving you a small smirk. "Oh? Is that a challenge?"

You blinked. Wait.

Before you could react, he casually leaned in, too close, his face inches from yours.

"You always tease me, but have you ever considered what would happen if I teased you back?"

Your brain stalled.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Kakyoin just smirked.

You tried to act nonchalant, but your grip on your drink tightened slightly. "H-Hah, good luck with that, Kak."

He chuckled, his voice dangerously smooth.

"Oh, I don’t think I’ll need luck."

And then he trailed a finger along your jaw.

Your entire body tensed.

Oh. Oh no.

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he tilted his head, studying your reaction.

"You're awfully quiet, (Y/N)."

You swallowed, feeling your face heat up. "S-Shut up."

Kakyoin chuckled, leaning back with the smuggest look you’d ever seen on his stupidly handsome face. "Oh? But I thought you liked teasing me. What happened?"

Your soul left your body.

You scrambled for a comeback, anything, but your brain was just– static.

And Kakyoin just sipped his drink like he didn’t just obliterate you.

That was the day you learned a valuable lesson.

Kakyoin might have been fun to tease…but when he fought back, you never stood a chance.

[cloudlessly-light]

The pull you have on me (Part 1/2)

A/N: You guys voted and this one won! It was supposed to be a one-shot but it kinda got away from me. I hope you guys enjoy part one!

Title: The pull you have on me Summary: He shouldn’t be attracted to a girl almost 15 years younger than himself. And he definitely shouldn’t be attracted to his son’s babysitter. But he was. Word count: 3,1k Rating: Explicit Warnings: AU, babysitter Emily, smut, dirty talk, age difference, rough sex, teasing, flirting, Emily is a menace Warnings for this chapter: Flirting, Aaron wants her, he tries to fight it

He had hired Emily, a college student that was a friend of a friend’s daughter to be Jack’s babysitter soon after his divorce. It had been Dave’s idea to hire someone to look after Jack when he had to be away on cases instead of always having to depend on Haley. He also happened to know a girl who was looking for work.

So he gets Emily’s number from Dave, the twenty-one-year-old finishing up her junior year in college and happily accepting the job offer. It was easy enough, she loved kids and the money was decent. She even gets her own bedroom to stay in whenever Aaron was away overnight, which was often enough for her to make herself at home.

It was working out perfectly, except for one thing, Aaron found himself insanely attracted to her.

He didn’t know what he had expected of the young woman on the other end of the phone when they first spoke. He noticed immediately that she was intelligent and driven, she was majoring in criminology and minored in linguistics, smart and capable. She was bright and self-assured, a silent confidence about her that he liked immediately. He never really imagined what she looked like when they talked on the phone. But it definitely wasn’t shiny dark hair and the deep brown of her eyes, a smile that could kill. When she shook his hand her palm felt cool but soft as she introduced herself.

“It’s nice getting a face to the voice.” She smiled and he just barely remembered to smile back, momentarily stunned. They had talked on the phone a few times by then, going over what he needed from her and how much she could work with her class schedule but the first time they met was when she came over to meet Jack, Aaron wanting to make sure she was good with his son before officially hiring her.

“It’s nice to meet you.” He said, unaware that he was still holding her hand in his until she cleared her throat and stepped back with a slight blush on her cheeks. So pretty, he thought.

She was stupidly beautiful and he should not be this attracted to a girl almost fifteen years younger than himself. He probably shouldn’t have hired her either, but as he watched her interact with Jack he saw the comfort on him easily and, if he was going to be completely honest, he wanted her around.

And she did her job well, almost always just a phone call away unless she had too much studying to do. It made his life easier, even if he would drive himself crazy as he sometimes watched her. He would come home late and she was in the living room, hunched over one of her books and eyebrows narrowed as she read. She would bite the end of her pen sometimes, a habit he was sure she was unaware of and he found himself biting down on his tongue at the sight of. It made him think about how she would look on her knees before him.

He knew he shouldn’t watch her like he was, but he would find himself doing it almost unconsciously. She was young and pretty and off limits, and somehow that only made him want her more. Of course he never crosses the line, even when she would smile at his boring jokes or occasionally thread the line of flirting, something she only did when they were alone.

It had started so subtly that he was sure he was imagining it, her slightly flirty tone or the way she batted her long lashes at him. Then one night he came home late and quickly went to check on Jack who was sound asleep. He turned around and there she was, dripping wet with only a towel around her. When she saw him she looked worried for a second but made no effort to move towards the spare bedroom.

“I didn’t know you’d be home. I had forgotten my bag downstairs.” She motioned towards the overnight bag in her hand and it was the first time he noticed it.

“It’s fine.” He deterred his eyes and cleared his throat but not without noticing the way she relaxed, her shoulder lowering slightly.

“Sleep well, Mr. Hotchner.” She smiled, a hint of smugness in her tone before she closed the door behind her.

He found himself thinking about her in the shower that night, imagining licking drops of water from her skin.

It becomes a little more obvious after that, she spent more of her time in the living room, studying or watching TV when he got home late enough to miss his son’s bedtime. She would linger closer to him that she should, let him feel the heat of her body as she passed him with a soft bye or good-night. He spends more time thinking about her, about what she tasted like, the sounds she made, how she would look as he wrung pleasure from her body. He knows he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. And he was sure he was going crazy.

And then summer comes around, and she has almost three months off school.

“I could be here more, if you need me to.” She had told him, her overnight bag on her shoulder. He had gotten home late the night before, he was tired, his body aching from a tackle from an unsub but he didn’t care when she was standing in shorts and a tank in front of him, smiling so prettily. “You know, for the summer.”

“Yeah?” He leaned against the doorframe and tried with everything in him to not look at her smooth thighs. Her skin looked so soft, he wanted to suck bruises into it.

“Yeah, unless you’re taking some time off and don’t need me.” She teased with a smirk and he wondered if she was aware of the way her brown eyes gleam as she did.

“No, that would be really great actually.” He smiled at her and her smirk deepened. “Thank you Emily.”

“Great!” She smiled back. “Tell Jack that I’ll see him in a couple of weeks then, text me if you need me before that, my schedule is pretty open.”

“Sounds good.” He watched her until she was in the car, driving out of the driveway. She really was helpful and he knew he couldn’t ruin that. Even though the flirting had become even more frequent when they were alone, sometimes he even found himself tethering the line of flirting back. But she was too young, off limits, and Jack’s babysitter. He couldn’t go there, not with her.

Only, he doesn’t count on coming home to her dressed in only a bathing suit as she plays in the pool with Jack a few weeks later.

Maybe he should have, after all it was unbearably hot outside and Emily had been there most of the week because he had been forced to stay late at the office.

“Hi dad!” Jack swims towards him eagerly, the floaties around his arms making water splash around him.

“Hey buddy.” He helps him out of the pool and ignores that his suit will be soaked as he hugs him.

“You’re home early.” Emily says as she gets out of the pool, hair wet and her green bathing suit clinging to her body. She seems oblivious to her state of undress, only arching one of her eyebrows when she catches him looking at her quickly up and down.

“We wrapped up the case early this morning.” He tells her as he sets Jack down beside him. “I’ll be home for the weekend I hope, so if you have plans you don’t have to stay here.” He hopes he doesn’t sound rude, but he couldn’t imagine having Emily around all weekend and being home, especially not if she was going to be dressed like that.

“I want Emmy to stay!” Jack pouts beside him and she laughs softly.

“Emily might have other things to do, buddy.” He looks down at his son who narrows his eyebrows at him, something Jack’s inherited from him.

“But we were going to get ice cream and watch Toy Story tonight!” He complains and Emily looks between them with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

“I have a thing tomorrow, but I could stay until then? I already counted on spending the night anyways.” She offers and the four-year-old grins widely.

“Yes!” He jumps back into the pool with excitement, water splashing everywhere as he does.

“If that’s okay I mean, you don’t have to pay me.” She squints as she looks up at him, the sun in her eye and she takes a small step closer to him to avoid the sun. When he inhales he can smell chlorine and sunscreen and the faintest trace of her perfume and his jaw clenches.

“That’s fine.” Needing some space between them, he takes a step back. “I should change.” He gestures to his soaked shirt and Emily nods before jumping into the pool to continue her game of catch with Jack.

It wasn’t fine. It was anything but fine.

Not only did Emily spend another hour outside with Jack, swimming and playing with him but the young boy had also wanted Aaron there. He tries to ignore the way her eyebrow arched as he came back dressed in his swim trunks and instead he tries to focus on his son, playing with him and keeping a safe space from Emily until Jack was getting tired.

“I think it’s time for a nap.” He ignores the complaints from Jack and gets him out of the water, leaving Emily by the pool as he takes him upstairs. He helps Jack shower the chlorine off his body before tucking him in for a nap.

By the time he comes back Emily is lying on a sunchair sunbathing and he bites back a groan at the way he can see her nipples through her bathing suit. Her skin is glistening under the sun, her skin already getting a slight tan from the days she had spent outside with Jack. He imagines the tanning lines, if she only wore a one piece because she was with Jack and normally would wear a bikini.

“He’ll be out for a while.” He mutters and Emily jumps at the sound of his voice. “Sorry.” He chuckles at the way he startled her.

“I’ll wake him up in an hour.” She starts sitting up, neck craned enough to look up at him before slowly giving him a once over. He changed into sweatpants before helping Jack into bed, but he felt even more exposed now than he did wearing his trunks when she looked at him that way. When she looked back up at him she smiled sweetly. “Can I stay out here? Or am I in the way?” Her tongue wets her bottom lip and he feels want stir low in his abdomen at the way she’s looking up at him with dark eyes.

“Stay, I have some paperwork to finish so I’ll be in my study.” He’s sure the look of disappointment on her face was more his imagination than anything as he turns to leave.

He stays in his study until it’s time to make dinner and as he does, Jack plays in his room and Emily comes into the kitchen after she’s had a shower.

“Can I help in here?” She asks as she leans back against the kitchen island, her arms crossed under her chest.

“That’s alright, thank you.” He spares her a look and she holds his stare, amusement reflected back at him. “Everything alright?” He asks when she doesn’t say anything.

“Yes, Mr. Hotchner.” Her voice is breathy and low and he wonders if she does it on purpose. He’s cutting vegetables, tomatoes on the cutting board in front of him. She jumps up to sit on the counter right next to where he’s working, her thighs spread slightly. “I think it’s pretty hot that you can cook.”

At that he pauses, tension filling the room as his eyebrow narrows as he studies her. She’s still looking at him, something dangerous in the way she’s not backing down.

“It’s something everyone should be able to do, at least the basics.” He finally says and she leans back on her hands with a sigh, giving him a view of her body as she does.

“In that case, could you teach me?” She shifts just slightly, her legs spreading just enough for her foot to graze the outside of his thigh and he almost drops the knife in his hand.

“Is that what you want?” He’s toeing the line and he knows it, but she seems to relish in the way he’s looking at her.

“It is.” She arches her back slightly, effectively pushing her chest out as she feigns stretching in front of him. “And I always get what I want, Mr. Hotchner.” Her voice is sickly sweet when she speaks and he knows that whatever unwritten rule he had set for himself was broken.

“What are you doing, Emily?” His voice is low and graveled and he sees her cheeks flush in response to it.

“Nothing.” She looks at him with pink cheeks and pupils blown wide yet there’s a look of innocence on her face. It’s all and act and he know it, but this is the first time he realizes what a menace she could be.

Dangerous, forbidden and thrilling.

But he wasn’t one to be played with and even though she had opened the doorway to what he had been wanting for the better part of a year, he wasn’t going to invite himself through it without her working for it.

It was stupid, it was exactly what he had told himself not to do, but as he looked at her, pink shorts and a black T-shirt, brown hair still wet from her shower, lips looking so soft and inviting, he found that he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. He had tried fighting this, but why fight what he already knew was a losing battle?

“You want to learn how to cook?” It’s not what she expects him to say but she still nods when he takes a step back from the counter and she jumps to her feet, looking at him almost curiously. “I’ll teach you.” He pulls her to stand in front of him and she exhales shakily as he puts the knife in her hand and then covers hers with his larger one.

“Mr. Hotchner-” She starts but he hushes her.

“Follow my movements.” He whispers against the back of her ear and he sees goosebumps on her arms which make him smile. His front presses to her back as they slice the tomatoes, his hand firm over hers. “Grab the peppers.” He tells her when they’re done and when she reaches for them her hand is trembling.

She leans back into him, letting him lead her movements as they cut the vegetables into smaller pieces. His breath keeps falling against her neck and her body flushes in response. He can see her pulse beating wildly in her neck and he bites back a growl at the thought of tasting the vibrations of it. When he looks down he can see her nipples through her shirt and he hums lowly.

“Not even wearing a bra?” He muses and she sucks in a breath at the low rumble of his voice.

“I was going to change before dinner.” She feels his lips curl into a smirk against her neck.

“No you weren’t.” His lips hover over her skin when she cranes her neck and he just barely keeps himself from sucking the pale skin between his teeth. “How long have you wanted me huh?” He lets go of her hand and the knife drops to the cutting board but he barely notices, both his hands coming to grip her hips tight enough to make her hiss as he pulls her flush against him, making sure she feels his want for her against her back.

“Since the first time we met.” She breathes, voice low and trembling slightly as she grips the counter.

“Is that so?” His fingers twitch against her hips as he noses her hairline, breathing her in greedily. “The boys in college aren’t doing it for you? You want a man?”

“I haven’t wanted anybody else since meeting you. And today you couldn’t stop checking me out.” She twists just enough to be able to look at him, a teasing look on her face. “And while you have been checking me out for the entire time I’ve worked for you, today it was obvious. You want me too.”

He shouldn’t have been surprised that she knew, she was more observant than most, more intelligent than people would give her credit for. He lets her turn in his arms, keeps her trapped between the counter and his body as his hand grabs the back of her neck, his thumb pressing under her chin to keep her looking at him.

“Dirty girl.” He hums and she smirks as he leans forward, his lips just shy of touching hers. “This is a terrible idea, you know.”

“Is it?” Her hand is suddenly between them, grabbing his cock through his jeans, already straining. “I think this is inevitable.” She whispers against his lips.

He groaned at her touch, his hold on her neck tightening and she gasped quietly. But then the sound of footsteps running down the stairs hit his ears like a bomb and he quickly moves away from her, just as Emily’s eyes widen and she all but jumps to the side to create more space between them.

“Dad is dinner ready yet?” Jack runs into the kitchen, oblivious to the tension between his babysitter and his father.

“Not yet, in about twenty minutes.” He tells the young boy who turns his attention to Emily. “Come play in my room Emmy.”

She nods with a soft smile and starts to walk out with Jack, but not without turning back and winking at Aaron, whose mind is still reeling at what just happened between them.

“She’ll be the death of me.” He mutters lowly before turning back to the dinner he still had to finish.

He was screwed. Shit.

[domm1etae]

sent to tempt me - chapter eight

chapter eight: unwanted attention

chapter summary: Yunho's library meeting with Mingi turns humiliating when flirty girls target him, triggering confusion over his feelings. Later, Yunho's mother calls, adding pressure

pairing: yunho x mingi

genre: smut (not yet but there will be eventually), angst, fluff, romance, m/m, non!idol!ateez, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, drama, coming of age, collage, religion

rating: 18+ (for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually) | mdni

word count: 2.7k

warnings under

collage, roommates, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, bad boy mingi and religious church good boy yunho same-sex attraction, m/m, teasing, dark themes, homophobia, self discovery, pet names, strangers to lovers, religion and religious topics, aaaand more will be added soon hehehe

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3 | this fics masterlist

author's note: next chapter will be out soon bbys i am already working on it!!

The clock read 2:57 PM, and Yunho was on the verge of a minor breakdown. His heart pounded like it was staging a rebellion, and the closer he got to the library, the worse it got. He adjusted his grip on the strap of his bag for the tenth time, sweat forming on his palms despite the crisp fall air.

It’s just a meeting, he told himself for the hundredth time. A project meeting. People have these all the time.

But then again, most people didn’t have to meet their ridiculously confident, infuriatingly sarcastic, and stupidly attractive roommate for these meetings. Most people didn’t have to face someone who could make them feel small with just a look—or worse, a smirk.

He caught sight of the library doors and paused. What if Mingi was already inside, waiting? Did he look too eager? Too nervous? Yunho exhaled, trying to shake the nerves off. He couldn’t just stand here forever.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, the smell of books and faint coffee hitting him immediately. And there he was.

Mingi.

Leaning back in one of the chairs like he had all the time in the world, legs stretched out under the table, and a pen twirling between his fingers. Yunho’s chest tightened at the sight. His roommate looked like he belonged on the cover of some magazine—not sitting in a library for a school project.

Mingi didn’t even notice him walk in at first, too busy staring at the ceiling as if it held all the answers to life. Yunho hesitated, suddenly hyperaware of how stiffly he was walking. Finally, he shuffled over to the table and cleared his throat.

“H-Hey,” he mumbled, sliding into the seat across from Mingi.

Mingi’s eyes flicked over to him, a lazy smirk pulling at his lips. “Hey, roommate. You’re on time for once. Miracles do happen.”

Yunho felt his ears heat up immediately. “I... I’m usually on time,” he protested, even though it sounded weak, even to his own ears.

Mingi snorted, clearly unconvinced. “Sure you are.” He leaned forward, sliding a notebook across the table. “Anyway, let’s get this over with. Decadence isn’t gonna analyze itself.”

Yunho nodded, fumbling with his bag to pull out his notes. His hands shook slightly as he flipped to the right page, the edges of the paper crinkling in his grip.

“Decadence,” Mingi said, leaning back again. “Oscar Wilde and his whole ‘live fast, die pretty’ thing. Sounds like a blast.”

Yunho blinked, unsure how to respond. “I think it’s more about moral decay and the pursuit of pleasure,” he said softly, hoping he didn’t sound stupid.

Mingi tilted his head, considering. “Moral decay, huh? Guess that makes sense. But honestly, Wilde seems like the kind of guy who’d throw the best parties.”

Yunho’s brow furrowed. “I—I don’t think that’s what he meant.”

Mingi grinned. “Relax, I’m kidding.”

They went back and forth like that for a few minutes, with Mingi throwing out sarcastic comments while Yunho tried to keep the conversation on track. It wasn’t easy. Every time Yunho thought they were making progress, Mingi would derail the discussion with another offhand remark.

And then, just as Yunho was starting to feel a little more comfortable, two girls appeared.

“Mingi!” one of them called out, her voice annoyingly high-pitched. She was petite with bleached blonde hair tied into pigtails. Her friend, a taller brunette, followed close behind.

Yunho immediately stiffened, his shoulders hunching instinctively.

The blonde leaned on Mingi’s shoulder like she had every right to be there. “We were just talking about you,” she said with a smile that was anything but innocent.

“Good things, I hope,” Mingi replied smoothly, his tone dipping into something low and teasing.

Yunho stared down at his notes, pretending to read them. He could feel his cheeks heating up again. Why did these things always happen around him?

The brunette giggled, brushing her fingers against Mingi’s arm. “Always. So... who’s your friend?”

Before Mingi could answer, the blonde zeroed in on Yunho like a hawk spotting prey. “Oh my gosh, I’ve never seen you before! Are you from another school or something? Mingi you are keeping the prettiest friends only to yourself.”

Yunho opened his mouth, but no words came out. “I—uh—no, I—”

“He’s my roommate,” Mingi interrupted, his tone casual. “He studies here. Real quiet type.”

“Your roommate?” the blonde echoed, her eyes lighting up with interest. “No way! What’s your name?”

Yunho glanced at her, then at Mingi, who was watching the exchange with a look of pure amusement. “Y-Yunho,” he stammered.

“Yunho,” she repeated, rolling the name around like she was testing it out. “So... are you single?”

Yunho froze. His ears felt like they were on fire. “I—uh—”

“Oh, come on,” Mingi cut in, laughing. “You really gotta ask him that? Just look at him. You can tell a woman’s never touched him. Look how red he is.”

Yunho’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and anger. “That’s not—”

“Or what?” Mingi interrupted, his grin widening. “Am I wrong, roomie?”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Mingi, don’t be such a jerk. Don’t judge a book by its cover. The shy ones are always the biggest freaks in bed.”

Yunho’s brain practically shut down. His cheeks burned, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at anyone.

“Trust me,” Mingi said, shaking his head. “I’ve been with enough people to know. Yunho’s as innocent as they come.”

The brunette pouted, leaning closer to Yunho. “Oh, come on, Mingi. Don’t be rude. I bet Yunho could give it to me good aaaaall night long.” She leaned so close that Yunho could feel her breath on his face.

That was it. Yunho shot up from his seat, grabbing his bag. “Excuse me,” he muttered, his voice barely audible, before practically running out of the library.

“Wow,” the blonde said, throwing her hands in the air. “I try to be nice to the nerd type for once, and he does this. God, what’s his deal?”

Mingi laughed, leaning back in his chair. “You scared him off. Better luck next time.”

-----

The walk back to the dorm felt endless, even though Yunho’s legs were moving faster than usual. His cheeks still burned, not from the kind of heat people whispered about when they talked about crushes or flirty encounters, but from pure, unrelenting embarrassment.

The second he got inside, he closed the door a little harder than necessary, his bag hitting the floor with a dull thud. He stood there for a moment, breathing heavily and staring at nothing in particular.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

He wasn’t mad at the girl, really. She didn’t know any better—how could she? But the way she leaned in so close, the way her fingers brushed against his arm, the way she said that… thing about him? Yunho’s face heated up again just thinking about it. Not because it had excited him—no, not even close—but because it hadn’t.

His reaction hadn’t been normal. He knew it wasn’t normal.

Any other guy would’ve felt something. That’s just how it was supposed to work, wasn’t it? A pretty girl shows interest, flirts a little, touches your arm, and you feel your stomach flip or your heart race or... something. But not Yunho. All he’d felt was awkward. Uncomfortable. And a little desperate to leave.

And that was wrong, wasn’t it?

Yunho sank onto his bed, dropping his head into his hands. His brain wouldn’t stop racing, wouldn’t stop poking at the memory like a sore tooth.

Why didn’t he feel anything? Why didn’t her touch make his heart skip the way it was supposed to? Sure, she wasn’t the kind of girl he’d normally talk to, but that didn’t matter. She was attractive—objectively attractive. Yunho should’ve felt something. But he hadn’t.

The worst part was, Yunho knew he wasn’t supposed to think about things like this in the first place. His whole life, he’d been told that thoughts like these were dangerous. Sinful, even. Thinking about a girl in that way? It was forbidden.

But wasn’t it also forbidden to feel nothing at all?

Yunho groaned, flopping back onto his bed and staring up at the ceiling. His hands clutched the fabric of his sweater, the soft material bunching under his fingers.

Why don’t I feel anything? he thought. Why don’t I think about girls the way I’m supposed to?

He pressed his palms over his face, trying to block out the thought, but it refused to go away. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, there was something even worse gnawing at the back of his mind. Something he didn’t want to acknowledge, but couldn’t ignore.

The way he felt about Mingi.

Yunho swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

It wasn’t like he wanted to think about Mingi. He didn’t choose to. It just... happened. And that made it even worse.

Mingi, with his sarcastic smirks and his lazy drawl, the way he acted like he was above everything, like nothing mattered to him. Mingi, with his sharp eyes and sharp tongue, always knowing exactly what to say to leave Yunho flustered and off-balance. Mingi, who leaned too close, stood too tall, spoke too softly sometimes, like he was trying to make Yunho’s heart stutter.

It was wrong.

Yunho’s chest ached, his breath coming quicker as the thoughts swirled faster and faster. Thinking about a girl like that was bad enough, but thinking about a boy? A boy who was his roommate?

It was the worst kind of wrong.

Yunho squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would make the thoughts disappear. But it didn’t work. It never worked. Because no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he told himself to stop, the thoughts always came back.

He hated it.

Hated the way his heart skipped when Mingi looked at him too long. Hated the way his stomach twisted when Mingi teased him. Hated the way his mind wandered, late at night when he should’ve been praying, to things he couldn’t even say out loud.

And yet...

Yunho’s hands curled into fists, the fabric of his sweater stretching under the pressure.

And yet, he couldn’t make it stop.

He felt like he was stuck in some kind of endless loop, spinning between guilt and confusion and frustration, with no way out. He didn’t understand why Mingi acted the way he did, why he always had to push Yunho’s buttons and make everything so complicated.

But maybe Yunho didn’t understand himself even more.

Yunho hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed. His arm was slung over his eyes, blocking out the pale glow of the dorm room ceiling light. His head was still buzzing, a jumble of thoughts fighting for space, each one more unwelcome than the last.

And then, his phone rang.

He sighed heavily, dragging his arm away to glance at the screen. The name “Mom” blinked at him, bright and insistent. Ignoring it wasn’t an option—not when ignoring her could lead to endless texts or another, more persistent call.

With a reluctant groan, he swiped to answer. “Hi, Mom.”

“Yunho,” she said, her tone even and purposeful. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he replied automatically.

“You don’t sound fine. Are you eating properly? Studying hard?”

“Yes, Mom,” Yunho mumbled.

“And have you been to church?”

The question made his stomach twist. “Uh, yeah,” he lied. “I’ve been.”

“Good.” Her voice carried a faint edge, as though she didn’t quite believe him. “You know how important it is to stay close to your faith, especially in a place like college. There’s too much temptation out there. You need to be careful.”

“I know,” Yunho said quietly, his grip tightening on the phone.

“You’re staying away from trouble, right?” she continued, her tone growing stern. “There’s no drinking, no wild parties?”

“No, Mom,” Yunho said quickly, the thought almost laughable.

“Good,” she said again, but there was a pause, heavy and expectant, like she wasn’t quite finished. “You’re not... letting yourself get distracted, are you? By... other things? You know what I mean right. Some pretty ladies?”

Yunho’s stomach dropped. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m not distracted.”

“Alright,” she said, her tone sharp and clipped. “I trust you, Yunho, but you know what’s expected of you. You’ve been raised with values—don’t let anything or anyone take you away from that. Understand?”

“I understand,” Yunho murmured, his voice tight.

“Good,” she said once more. “I’ll let you go now. But remember, you have a responsibility—to yourself, to your family, and to God. Don’t forget that. If you ever introduce us to a girl someday, I’ll be glad, but make sure she’s Christian—and focus on your studies first.”

“I won’t,” Yunho said quietly, his voice flat.

She hung up first, leaving Yunho sitting in the oppressive silence of the room. He stared at his phone for a long moment before tossing it onto his desk.

Why couldn’t she just let it go? Why did every conversation feel like a checklist of things he could mess up?

The guilt was already creeping in, but Yunho shoved it aside. He couldn’t deal with that right now.

Instead, he kicked off his shoes, pulled the blanket over his head, and closed his eyes. Sleep would make it better. It always did.

----

The grogginess of waking up too late weighed heavily on Yunho as he blinked at his alarm clock, the glowing numbers reading 1:00 AM. He groaned, rubbing his face. That nap had turned into an unplanned deep sleep, leaving him disoriented and even more irritated with how the day had gone.

"Ugh, great. Just what I needed," he muttered, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. His mouth was dry, his thoughts still muddled with remnants of frustration over the library incident. He grabbed his phone to check for notifications but found none, not that he was expecting any.

Yunho shuffled to the kitchen, his socks scuffing the floor as he made his way to the cupboard to grab a glass. He yawned as he filled it with water, the sound of the faucet cutting through the stillness of the dorm. The silence was comforting, though a little eerie this late at night.

As he leaned back against the counter and sipped his water, he heard the faintest sound—like the shuffle of footsteps outside their door. Yunho froze, the glass paused midway to his lips.

At first, he thought he was imagining it, but then came another sound. A thump. A muffled groan. His heart rate spiked.

What the hell?

It was late—too late for someone to be coming by. Mingi should have been home by now, considering how he’d gone off with his admirers earlier. Was someone trying to break in? The thought sent a cold wave of panic through Yunho, and he set the glass down with trembling hands.

Every noise seemed magnified: the quiet creak of the hallway floorboards, the faint shuffle of shoes, the sound of a hand brushing the doorknob. Yunho’s mind raced, conjuring every horror story he’d ever heard. He clutched the edge of the counter, his eyes darting to their apartment door.

Then it started to open.

His breath caught. He took a step back, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. Should he grab something—a knife, a chair? He wasn’t prepared to face an intruder!

The door swung inward slowly, and Yunho braced himself for the worst. But instead of some dark, faceless threat, it was Mingi.

Or rather, a version of Mingi Yunho had never seen before.

The taller boy stumbled inside, his shoulders hunched, his normally styled hair a wild, disheveled mess. Blood trickled steadily from a cut just above his brow, a thin line streaking down his temple to smear faintly along his cheekbone. His lips were split, dried blood crusted at the edges. The collar of his shirt bore faint smears of red, and a nasty bruise was spreading under his left eye, swollen and darkening with every passing second.

[writingsofwesteros]

#black and green's dance together

Not so Baby Targaryen's HC

https://www.tumblr.com/estesolar/760598964286439424/if-the-dance-of-the-dragons-didnt-happen-au?source=share

Had no one to talk to about this, oops

Aegon III (egg) is his mother's son, a charming and loving boy trying to keep together the peace his mother and uncle managed to form. He is such a handsome boy who just exists while all the ladies of the court swoon over him. But the only girl he wants is princess Jaehaera, he is Mr. prince-charming and everyone's friend, but viserys and maelor do tease him.

Viserys II is a mini Daemon, impulsive but loyal, he was truly a headache to his mother when he he wanted to marry Larra of lys, nearly 7 years his elder. Being the stubborn boy he is, he wouldn't talk to his family for months and becomesvery close with Maelor. Viserys and Maelor being troublemakers in court while Jae is dragged into their stupid pranks and adventures. He is very calculating and fierce but a big lover boy, falls head over heels in an instant. His love is what makes him very loyal, he won't tell his brother or cousins but he is always looking after them.

Jaehaerys is a handsome boy like his father but serious like his uncle. Unlike his father, Jae is very active in his physique and studies, always holding a book and scolding his father and Maelor for drinking and lazing. He is very attractive but has a deadpan attitude, ladies and men are always trying to get his attention but can never get the prince to smile or spare them a look. Poor boy looks so out of place with his cheerful father and brother, if he is intrigued with someone he would become a bit possessive. Viserys and Maelor are his self-proclaimed friends but it's actually Aemon.

Jaehaera is serious and quiet, she really takes to heart all the ill done things against her family. Her mother is her most cherished person in life, always spending time with her mommy and bugs. Other than that, she is always spending time with her reclusive dragon, both of them staying away from annoying boys and dragons. She is set to marry her cousin, Egg, unfortunately his charming self is quite insufferable to her, at least for now. It does not help that her father is very upset of his little girl being betrothed, sneering at the stupidly charming boy.

Maelor is his father's son, reckless but knows how to have a fun time. Always getting into trouble but charming his way out, flirting is his second language. His grandmother and aunt can't get enough of his playful cheesy self, terrible liar but quiet the entertainer, his sweet mother giggling at his dumb comments. Silly boy loves to procrastinate and improvise, always surprising his father and uncle with his "great plans". Pretty ladies always catch his eyes and are entertained by his flirty attitude. But if there is a girl his is truly in love with, he turns into absolute mush, he cannot compute.

Alysmond's son (Aemon) a truly special dragon like his aunt Helaena, he has been raised away from the court so he is a very timid quiet boy but he gets along well with his cousin Jae. Despite his bastardy, his father and grandmother love him deeply, always including the shy boy in their royal and family festivities. He was gifted a dragon egg after he was legitimized in court, a sapphire blue dragon that wouldn't hatch until his 10th name day. He does struggle with acceptance and believes himself to be a freak of a nature. Just like his father, it would take a lot for him to feel accepted and loved by another. But once it happens, he won't take it for granted.

ADORE THIS SO MUCH!!

they are such cute headcanons of them all, I love it so much !!

they are all so precious and lovely; they deserved all of this happiness thank you

[siriuslysatorusimping]

Fight Me? (Gojo Satoru one-shot)

This is based on the following:

Nurse!Gojo falling for a grumpy lil Rinko in this short and sweet AU one-shot 💕

It is fluffy and cute and I really enjoyed writing this silly lil thing 🥹

Also, happy early birthday Gojo Satoru!

I'll try to get the amusement park Another Level Extra done and posted by tomorrow 😊

Fight Me?

“Good morning, Kurisaki-chan,” the nurse’s annoyingly chipper voice sang as he entered the room. “Wakey, wakey!”

“Fight me,” Rinko mumbled, trying to shield her eyes with a pillow when he flipped the lights on.

“Maybe later, Kurisaki-chan,” Gojo replied cheerfully, prying the pillow from her face. His stunning blue eyes smiled down at her from behind the white hair that fell in a messy mop across his forehead. “Can’t if you suffocate yourself while I’m trying to take your vitals, though.”

He wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her arm and began pumping air into it, his eyes staying firmly on the gauge as it inflated.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked as he jotted the numbers down. “Comfy enough?”

She hadn’t, which was to be expected since she was in a hospital. Her least favorite place on earth. The constant beeping of all the machines and the hustle and bustle just outside the door didn’t help the ambiance, either. But she would admit that it was a bit more comfortable than usual because he’d been kind enough to get her extra pillows before he’d left the previous evening. 

“Fine until someone blinded me at-” she glanced at the clock on the wall, “-seven in the morning.” She scowled at his giant grin. “Did you have to turn all the lights on?”

“How else would I be able to see your pretty face?” he teased. His lips pulled into a smirk when the beeping of the heart rate monitor sped up, and he winked before walking toward the door. “Remember, if you need anything, just press the little button, and I’ll come to the rescue!”

He flipped the lights back off and closed the door behind him.

It wasn’t fair of him to be attractive and flirty with her when she felt - and probably looked - like death.

She glared out of the little fortress of pillows she’d created as the door opened, his familiar voice chiming excitedly.

“You know what time it is,” Gojo called, his grin widening at the sight of her protective barrier.

“Fight m-” the words choked off when the air caught in her lungs, and she hunched over as the coughs rattled her chest.

He patted her back gently before giving her a serious look when she was finally able to breathe again.

“I can’t fight you, Kurisaki-chan,” he stated matter-of-factly as he wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her bicep. “You’d win. And those other assholes over at the nurse’s station would never let me live it down. They’d probably film it, too, and then it would end up on the internet, and then I’d never be able to leave my house again.”

The wheezing laugh escaped before she could stop it, causing his face to break into a giant, boyish grin. His already brilliant eyes somehow shined brighter when he smiled like that. She found herself blinking up at him stupidly as he turned his attention back to his task.

He had dimples.

There was that damn beeping.

“Bit faster than it was when I took it earlier,” he observed. Her neck felt hot, especially when his grin turned smug, but he just jotted down the numbers and placed her pillows back where they had been.

Her brow furrowed in confusion when she heard Gojo’s voice just outside her door.

He had been in earlier to get her vitals before he left for the evening, so she wasn’t sure what he was doing back. The only thing she could think of was if they needed more bloodwork, which made her actually want to fight him.

The door opened, and he slipped inside, holding his left hand behind his back. She knew he could see the panic in her eyes, but it shifted into a glare when he laughed.

“I’m a bit hurt you’re so upset to see me,” Gojo teased, his lips pulling into a pout. “You can breathe easy. I’m not here to poke or prod you again, Kurisaki-chan.”

“What are you hiding, then?” she asked suspiciously. “If you have a damn needle, I’ll-”

“Threaten to fight me?” he asked, eyes shining with amusement. She leaned over, trying to see what he had, and he tutted. “Ah, ah. No peeking. I have a gift for you since you’ve been such a model patient this week, right now excluded.”

Rolling her eyes, she gave him a slightly unimpressed look.

“What kind of gift?”

“Just a little something to remember me by,” he stated happily. “You’ll most likely get discharged tomorrow, but I won’t be here since it’s my day off. Soooo-” he pulled his hand from behind his back to dramatically brandish a small stuffed panda, “-I wanted to give you this. You can look at him and think about the best nurse you’ve ever met in your life.”

Her eyebrows shot up at the sight of the stuffed animal, a surprised laugh escaping at the fact that it was wearing scrubs and had a felt stethoscope draped around its neck. It was cute.

The boyish grin that showed off his dimples was back. Deep cerulean blue made her feel like she was drowning. When her eyes met his, she felt her neck heat up when the damn beeping sped up like it always did.

“Thank you,” she murmured, gnawing on her bottom lip. “And thank you for being so kind this week. Sorry if I was a bit rude-”

“I don’t take it personally,” he cut her off, still smiling. “You clearly aren’t a fan of hospitals. Most people aren’t. But I do like to think my incredible charm makes it a bit more bearable.”

“A bit,” she conceded, unable to fight the urge to return his grin. “Thank you again. And for- the gift.”

“It was my pleasure,” he replied easily, moving back to the door. “Now, I’m heading out for the night. Take care of that little guy, yeah? I know it’s a big responsibility, but I think you’re up for the task after I did such a great job caring for you.” He paused at the door. “But if you forget, I left some instructions in his pocket to help you remember!”

He tossed her a wink before he was gone, and she blinked stupidly after him. 

Pursing her lips, she reached into the tiny pocket curiously to find a torn piece of notebook paper folded up. Another laugh escaped before she could stop it as she read his scribbled ‘instructions.’

Fun anecdote: years ago, when I was in the hospital, a student nurse came into the room at 7:30 after I'd barely slept at all, flipped the lights on, and was like, "GOOD MORNING, [KIKO]. MY NAME IS KATE. HOW DID YOU SLEEP? I'M HERE TO CHECK YOUR VITALS-" and I feel like the fact that I still remember her fucking name after all these years tells you enough about how much I hated her in that moment.