#that's what I get for being content for the first time in years

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ me & my husband ]❜

ft. the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you don’t need your husband to be perfect, you just want him to be honest┊3.3k words

contains: written before s2 came out!! probably ooc or inaccurate, angst with spots of fluff & a bittersweet ending? reader’s pov mostly, suspicions of cheating, lack of communication, mentioned age gap, random inaccurate lore for the salesman

➤ author's note: yeah, i saw the sudden uptick in notes on that gong yoo post i made and realized season 2 came out which i completely forgot about. i intend to watch it soon as possible and write fics for it as well as (probably) add new characters to my writing list, but for now, please be content with this!!

₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ this fic was heavily inspired by “emotionally intoxicated” by aurasaurora!

gong ji-cheol is the poster image for the ideal husband. he’s always been like that from the moment you met him, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the luckiest woman in the world when he calls himself yours. he’s tall and handsome, someone who catches everyone’s eye despite his only being focused on you. he’s wealthy and hard-working, able to call a luxurious mansion your home, and willing to buy you anything your heart desires as long as you ask for it. he spoils you rotten with that money, gifting you expensive things even if you didn’t ask if it reminded him of you. he’s doting, always sure to smother you in affection with kisses and cuddles whenever together to make it known how much he adores you. the sex is great too, he makes you feel wanted and desirable without ever leaving you unsatisfied. 

most importantly though, you love him, and he loves you. the last two years of marriage have been so blissful, and there isn’t a single thing you would change.

at least that’s what you believe most of the time.

you like to think you know a lot about him, and in a way, you do. you know his favorite color, how he likes his coffee, what he usually orders at restaurants, the type of wine he prefers over beer, the exaggerated shocked fasces he likes to make, how his favorite chore is folding the laundry, how his least favorite is doing the dishes because he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty, the name of his childhood pet, what positions he likes to cuddle or fuck in, the names he’s thinking of giving to your child when they are finally born— there are so many little details you know about him, yet at times you feel like you don't know anything at all.

you don’t really know much about his childhood aside from a few random stories, he claims there’s nothing really notable and that it was as standard as can be. you don’t know who his parents were or what they were like because he said they died when he was young, but surely that’s an important loss which must have impacted him and made youth difficult in some way? you don’t know about his past partners if he even had any, but you doubt you were his first as he was yours with a face like his. you don’t know any of his secrets, like an embarrassing moment or something sinful he might have committed in the past. 

he knew all of these things about you and the little details of your life, so why don’t you know any of the most basic things regarding your own husband?

these periods of uncertainty are few and far, but once the icy tendrils of doubt creep in, it’s difficult to shake them off when you realize you only know these things through observations and not him actually telling you. it’s a miracle your stupidity allowed you to make it this far in falling head over heels for him, getting married, and carrying his child (not that you completely regret it, you still love him, but you wish you had given it more time).

they say there are no such things as stupid questions, yet the main question you have is exactly that as it’s something every wife should know even before the marriage. it would be impressive how long you’ve been clueless about this matter if it weren’t for how often and how skilled he is in managing to evade your curiosity and steer the conversation elsewhere. you didn’t want to press on it since he seems to shut it down every time the topic is brought up and you don’t want to fight over something you technically didn’t need to know, but it weighs on you and presses into your chest with the knowledge you were being kept in the dark. 

what did your husband do for a living, exactly?

his schedule is always unpredictably changing with little rhyme or reason and it confuses you. sometimes you’ll go an entire few days without seeing him, sensing him wake up in the morning before the sun is even up, feeling him kiss you on the cheek before getting ready, and not coming back until long after you fall asleep with no communication aside from a note on the table telling you he’ll be gone for the day along with a wad of cash for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. other times he’ll be chilling at home for an entire week, waking you up with aggressive cuddles (or morning sex), making you breakfast with the morning news on in the background, and taking you out to wherever you want to go on his card in his rare casual clothing and messy wavy hair rather than the typical fancy suits and hair styled with gel. 

as far as you’re concerned, he’s a businessman of sorts, although you don’t know what company he works for or what position he has in terms of hierarchy or how an occupation of that type allows such flexibility in hours or anything at all. 

“what if he’s having an affair?”

you paused for a second before continuing the motion of slicing the cheesecake with a fork and savoring the taste in your mouth. “that’s ridiculous,” you stated simply after swallowing. “he loves me very much, and it doesn’t explain his weird schedule either.”

today was spent with some friends you met back in high school, but honestly, you were only attending out of politeness and tradition since you honestly feel like you’ve disconnected from these girls long before the current. still, you treasure the memories shared in your more formative years and wouldn’t ever say no to them if they wanted to hang out like old times. ji-cheol doesn’t bother to hide his distaste for them, calling them a miserable lot who try to drag you down at every opportunity out of jealousy for your happiness. you laugh it off, but you know deep down he’s right and yet you’re still sitting here at the cafe with them with bright smiles like their words don’t cut deep. 

“maybe he’s dating the boss— a sexy office siren type— she gives him plenty of days off and he stays with her at her beach house at jeju island or something to keep her company, and then she gives him lots of money in exchange.”

“oh my god, could you imagine?”

“can you be realistic? it sounds like you’re just writing a plot for a new drama,” you giggled, not allowing the feeling of a twisting blade in your abdomen to show on your face or the venom to drip from your words at the mere thought of the man you loved being stolen away a faceless woman who was everything you wished you were more of: more beautiful, more wealthy, more experienced, more intelligent—

“you don’t know because he’s your first love or whatever— and you’re so lucky to have been able to marry him— but men are dogs, and i don’t see why he would be the exception.”

“but he treats me so well—”

“maybe he only treats you well because you’re pregnant— he probably just feels guilty. i mean, when i was pregnant and had my first, my husband wasn’t attracted to me anymore and demanded a divorce unless i lost the baby weight.” she shrugged like it was so simple, so common, like the notion of marriage wasn’t something so deeply important and could be thrown away so easily.

“we aren’t suggesting you get a divorce, but we’re just saying you should keep an eye on him— you know? a handsome guy like him was always bound to get a lot of attention…” her laugh was shrill and high-pitched, making goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“right… thanks guys…”

that night, you couldn’t stop twisting and turning on the large sectional couch with thoughts rushing through your head of your husband with some other woman. the jealousy from these fictional scenarios without evidence of existence plagued you. it made you want to vomit up the negative feelings and go back to the person you were a few hours ago without the images of him cheating planted in your mind, which didn’t go unnoticed by him and caused him to ask what was bothering you as it wouldn't be good for the baby.

you hesitated for a moment, “could you tell me about your exes?”

“why are you suddenly curious about that?” he chuckled, knowing damn well that it was because of those stupid snakes masquerading as people (it truly takes one to know one) running their mouths again, but still feigning obliviousness for your sake. 

“just wondering,” you muttered. “i mean, you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, but you’re a bit older than me so…”

“and i hope to be the only one too,” he smirked confidently, making you laugh as he plopped down on the ground and rested his head on the cushion next to yours. 

it was such a casual setting in such a vast space, bringing you back to the days in your little apartment inviting him over for chicken and beer before you knew about your immense wealth and got embarrassed over your cheap dates when he was so used to expensive restaurants. he found it very endearing though, knowing you liked him for him and not his money.

“well, if you’re so curious…” he trailed off, but you weren’t quite sure if it was because of hesitation or because he simply didn’t know where to start. you can’t remember the last time a conversation like this was held to learn more about him since it was usually about you, maybe back when you first started dating and briefly discussed his late parents.

he started with his crush when he was in middle school since that was his earliest recollection of feeling love, who didn’t really count as a girlfriend or love because nothing was established and because of their age, but she was his first kiss that he ran away from right after because of how nervous he was, and it was never addressed again. apparently it was his second girlfriend who taught him everything he knew before he met you, saying she basically “trained him like a dog” to create a gentleman out of an inexperienced boy who still wasn’t quite sure how to treat a woman like a queen. she was a bit mean though, and he didn’t realize he dodged a bullet until later after realizing she was unnecessarily cruel to him for no reason multiple times if he didn’t do things exactly her way.

you suppose you always knew your husband wasn’t always the suave charmer you know him to be, but the image of younger him being clueless on matters of romance made you burst out laughing because of how you could hardly picture it.

he reached over to pinch your cheek affectionately, “are you of all people really making fun of me when you were too scared to hold my hand for me to escort you out of my car?”

“oh my god, that was on our first date, i can’t be blamed! i was shaking like crazy on that day— you had to tell me that you didn’t bite.”

“i was actually thinking about calling off our date last minute because of an emergency at work,” he confessed, “but i’m glad i didn’t and met the love of my life instead.”

“aw, you flirt.” the memory made you smile and feel all giggly inside, all the fears you had about him possibly having an affair falling away, yet there were still some lingering at the back of your mind with the mention of his job. “what happened at work?”

“nothing that important,” he said instantly like clockwork. “just some boring business things.”

you didn’t push it, not wanting to ruin the mood, but once again, your curiosity was just itching to ask more questions about his work life even if it was truly as boring as he says. you wanted to know every mundane detail whether it was what his office looked like or what the annoying co-worker did on a daily basis, anything to satiate your need to know more about this mysterious man you had made life-long vows with.

it all came to a head one night while you were cooking dinner, you heard the doorbell ring a dozen times in quick succession and answered it to find an older man with fiery red hair that seemed to match his temper. when he addressed your husband by name and verified your relationship with him, he began spewing all kinds of insults about the blood he had on his hands by luring innocent people to their deaths and you felt your heart drop. you tried to reason with him that there must have been some sort of mistake, barely able to get your words out in a fit of confusion and surprise at the absurd accusation, but he wouldn’t hear you out and pointed a finger in your face, asking if you had any idea what gong ji-cheol was doing behind your back. 

at that very moment, he was suddenly seized by two anonymous men in all black, causing him to yell out in panic as they dragged him away and stuffed him in the back of a car before quickly driving off into the night without a trace. it all happened so fast, you just stood there with your mouth open in shock, wondering if you should call the police on what looked like an abduction. 

then your husband comes running up the steps with his locked briefcase in hand, shouting out your name, asking you if you’re okay, pulling you back inside the comfort of your shared home, and checking you all over to make sure you aren’t harmed in any way. when you ask about who that man was and what he was talking about, he simply told you he was some crazy customer who was dissatisfied with the company, was looking for someone to blame, and promised to tell you the details later. 

you didn’t tell him that you didn’t believe him, just pursed your lips and furrowed your brow for a second then let go of the topic like you always do, taking his coat off his shoulders with a peck on the lips asking how his day was. he reciprocated the kiss, said it was fine without anything special, and that he would shower before having dinner, something he didn’t really need to say since you already knew but stated anyway as per evening routine. 

as he headed up the stairs and disappeared from sight, you stared at the locked briefcase resting crookedly on the little entryway table and paused for a moment. if you did this, it would be a breach of privacy and a sign of growing distrust in your husband, but it could also answer all of the questions that never cease. 

your hands wouldn’t stop shaking involuntarily as you felt the cold black metal underneath your fingertips, marveling at the smooth material clean of any scratches or dents. fidgeting with the built-in combination lock, six number sequences started rushing through your mind as you started to hastily run through your options with a focus on dates. you were determined to only do this three times since you had no idea if an alarm would be set off or if it would close off permanently.

his birthday?

an electronic beep went off indicating you were incorrect, making you nervous.

your birthday?

wrong again, you only had one attempt left. you swallowed, shaking the accumulating sweat off your hands.

the date of your wedding?

you gasped as the locks suddenly flipped open and lightly knocked against the briefcase. it was undone, you could open it at any moment now and see it all.

and yet you still hesitated during this golden opportunity. was it the fact that the passcode to his most secret possession was the day you got married? was it guilt for going behind your husband’s back for answers instead of directly asking him? was it because you were afraid of what you would find if you discovered the red-haired man was telling the truth?

whatever it was, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and locked it again, leaving it looking untouched and went back to playing dinner.

there was a heavy tension present at the dinner table that night, the only conversation present being him interrogating you about what the red-haired man talked about word-for-word. not really interrogating since his tone of voice was still calm and gentle as he asked questions, but you could see him fidgeting with his fork and not leaving much room for any other topic until he was sure you told him everything. he then sighed and claimed the man was insane, a gambling addict who was too deep in debt to afford treatment and was trying to drag him into his misery after meeting at the subway station. 

“ji-cheol?”

he froze for a second, not used to hearing you use his real name rather than a pet name. “yes?”

“what do you do for a living, exactly?”

a pause, you watched him fidget with his chopsticks and shift the grains of rice around. “you know, business stuff— nothing you need to concern yourself about—“

“but i don’t know! that’s the thing!” you felt tears starting to well up behind your eyes, letting two years of frustration trickle through. “i know it doesn’t seem that important for me to know, but is it really so important that you leave me in the dark about it for the three years we’ve been lovers? and now some guy comes to our doorstep and tells me about how your job is playing games with people at the subway station to make them participate in death games?!” you took a deep breath, calming yourself down, “please, be honest with me, that’s all i want…”

“i-i…” that was the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter, and if the situation wasn’t so tense, you would be proud you finally got one-up on him. “i can’t say… it’s for your own safety and mine.”

“so he was right?”

he remained silent, trying to think of some way to counter what seong gi-hun had told you, but if you didn’t believe the elaborate lie he already told you and wanted to learn more, then he knew this was the end of the road. 

“i-i need some time to think…” you looked defeated and it broke his heart. “i’m going to my mom’s house tonight, i’ll be back tomorrow—“ you got up, not bothering to pack anything aside from your phone and your wallet.

he had prepared for you to start screaming and crying (not that he would blame you, i mean, who would willingly stay with a man who was complicit in mass murder), demanding a divorce and packing your things to shut the door for him never to be seen again with your unborn child. the strangely calm reaction was both a relief and extremely unsettling to him.

“i won’t be mad if you decide not to come back” he stated plainly, defeated in a state you’ve never seen him in before. “whatever choice you make, i’ll support you, just know i love you— more than anything else in this world.”

you stared at him blankly through the open doorway. perhaps your husband isn’t the perfect man you believed him to be, but he was as honest as he possibly could have been with you regarding the matter, and that’s enough. 

“i love you too, i’ll be back in the morning.” that’s how you feel at the moment, but you don’t know if you’ll feel the same way tomorrow morning when it sinks in.

[awrkive]

tlp xmas special — jjk (m.)

hello awrkive nation!!! its late but merry christmas to those who celebrate!! sorry for being ia but heres a christmas gift from me to you 🫣 first of all i genuinely forgot abt the car s*x drabble that won that poll i made a few weeks ago which i promised you guys ISHDJDJ but here it is!! this drabble combines all of these three recurring requests for the tlp couple and this might also be the last drabble im doing for them (for now??) so do enjoy!!

pairing: tlp!jungkook x tlp!oc (main story)

summary: in which jungkook looks way too good carrying your sister's three-year old at her christmas eve party and you can't help but let your mind wander

w/c: 6k (ctfu)

warning/s: explicit sexual content (p in v s*x, car s*x, unprotected s*x, cre*mpie), oc having baby fever lol. genuinely not proofread sorry for any errors!

You find babies mesmerizing. They’re charming, they can be a handful, they’re irresistibly cute; so tiny, yet so loud. But to the core, they somehow manage to be a pure embodiment of joy.

Before Nayeon got pregnant, she shared something about having a “baby fever”. Of course you knew what it meant – but you never really felt it yourself. She said it was something about Minhyuk being such a good husband that she couldn’t wait for him to be a father. Well, you related to that specific part, at least; about your own husband being such a good husband. However, for the past year you’ve become a married couple, you never really thought about having babies. Or him being a father. Or you being a mother. 

It’s not like you don’t want to become a mother, like ever, or have a family with him. It’s just you thought you’re still way too young to be having babies. So you kind of just… gloss or skip over that idea – and for the record, Jungkook’s never brought it up, either. 

It’s not until your sister got pregnant for the second time, though, that you got yourself thinking. Seokjin and her had babies almost four years into their marriage, but it’s not very long until they decided to try again after Nari and now your sister is carrying her baby boy for seven months. 

It brings you here, gathered at their house for Christmas Eve. Your families haven’t arrived yet, but you and Jungkook decided to go earlier than the agreed time to help out with the – admittedly, big preparation. And currently, Jungkook’s got Nari – Seokjin and your sister’s 3-year-old – in his arms, asking for raspberries because Jungkook’s her favorite uncle. (Why wouldn’t he be? He spoils her a lot and carries her around when you come over.) He insisted on looking after her so Seokjin can help your sister out in the kitchen while you’re over at the counter island making some charcuterie.

Seokjin’s helping your sister take out the pies they’ve both prepared, with him guarding her and being extra with it because “my wife is pregnant and I’m growing white hairs because she wouldn’t just let me do everything”. Your sister is just so done chastising him for his overbearing antics, but you guess it’s cute, at the core of it all. You’ve always looked up to their relationship all these years. In fact, you kind of see Seokjin in Jungkook sometimes. Seokjin loves your sister the way Jungkook loves you. 

And then, the thought passes over your head like some form of looming possibility, unsettling yet intriguing. It lingers for a moment, uninvited but persistent, as if life is quietly hinting at something you’ve never truly considered before. The idea of a baby, of parenthood, feels distant but somehow more tangible now—like a door you never saw, now standing slightly ajar, waiting for you to decide whether to step through.

Would Jungkook be just as (lovingly) overbearing if you were pregnant? You imagine he’d be even more annoying about it. It’s rare for you to get sick, but when you do, Jungkook practically flips the house upside down just to make sure you don’t have to lift a finger. Takes care of you so seriously, as if the illness would never go away on its own in a few days. So what would it be like if you were carrying his child? Would he act like Seokjin does now, always hovering with a hand on your back, supporting your every move, scolding you if you try to do anything that requires even a little bit of effort?

The thought makes your lips curl. Because he probably would. You know he will. 

And as you look at him from across the room, carrying Nari around effortlessly against his body with one arm, with his red long-sleeve polo shirt pushed up to his forearms, white slacks, and freshly cut hair slicked to perfection for tonight’s occasion, he looks… delectable. 

Like a DILF. 

Except he isn’t a dad. 

But god, would you really, really like to fuck him. 

(And would he look way hotter if he – say – gave you a child?)

“Is it done?” Your sister interrupts your thoughts – thankfully, might you add. Because it’s going in a direction that’s way too inappropriate for a family occasion like this, and you need to be family friendly tonight for this Christmas party. 

When you turn around to see if she was talking to you, you find her looking at her husband instead, and with her stance and the tone of her voice, you know it doesn’t sound good. 

“Yeah. I think I just need to add a little more—” 

“Jin,” she says, sounding a little distressed. “Hurry. And make sure it’s perfect, okay? Everyone’s arriving in fifteen, and this is the first time I’m hosting Christmas and I really, really don’t want to disappoint your family and Jungkook’s parents and mom and—” 

“Hey,” You see Seokjin put a hand on the lower part of your sister’s back, effectively cutting her off. Gently, he tells her, “Everything’s perfect, alright?” 

Soft tunes of Christmas songs are playing all over the huge open space of their house, and you know you’re not supposed to listen in to the conversation given that they’re spoken in an almost hushed manner as some sort of discretion, but you can’t help but notice when she turns to Seokjin to give him a downturned smile.

“I just really want to give this my all…” 

He smiles down at her reassuringly. “You have, honey. Let’s not stress, okay? Not good for baby, remember?” Then, he begins to rub her protruding belly, and you see her visibly relaxing to his touch. 

You turn around quickly to not get caught watching, only to be welcomed with Jungkook making a beeline towards you, with Nari still in his arms. 

“Hi, baby,” Your sister automatically greets Nari, cooing at her, mood immediately picking up. The bright-eyed little girl lights up at the sight of her mommy, making grabby hands instantly. Laughing, Jungkook hands her to Seokjin, who receives his daughter and kisses her chubby cheeks with a smack. 

“What were you up to with uncle JK, little missy?” Seokjin says, swaying her side to side. 

Jungkook leans his elbow on the island while looking at the pair, smiling widely.

“Uncle JK said he’s giving me three presents! Three! I wanna open them!” She holds up three fingers, and you giggle at her cuteness.

Your sister softly laughs in response. “Your uncle likes to spoil you, sweetie. But we’ll open them later, okay?”

“Why not now?” She whines, and you smile at how seriously she takes it. “I want three presents!”

“Don’t worry,” Seokjin laughs, “You’ll have lots of surprises when the grandmas and grandpas get here. But we need to change into your dress first.”

Nari giggles. “You? You’re gonna wear a dress too?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, why not?”

She shakes her head, still giggling, her pigtails swaying as she does so. God, she looks like a combination of Seokjin and your sister that it’s so uncanny sometimes.

“You’re so silly, daddy.”

Seokjin feigns shock. “Silly? Just wait, Uncle JK and I are going to be Ariel and Belle for New Year’s! Right, Jungkook?” He looks over at Jungkook, who widens his eyes comically.

You laugh, and Jungkook adds, “Well, I wanted to be Cinderella, but sure, I’ll be Belle.”

Nari gasps dramatically, putting her hand over her mouth. “But she’s my favorite, Uncle JK! You can’t be her!”

She’s such a cute kid – and you know everybody in the room agrees. No doubt her mom and dad think so, but when you look over at Jungkook, he’s cheesing really hard – with his nose scrunched into that expression of cute aggression. 

“These two boys are silly.” Your sister interrupts with a playful roll of her eyes. She looks at her husband Nari, “Honey, take Nari upstairs and dress her up, please.”

“I can wear my new dress now?!” Nari shrieks, excitement showing with the way she wiggles in her father’s hold.

“Absolutely, baby, and the sparkly white shoes, too,” Seokjin nods. You all coo when Nari lets out an adorable, delighted “yay!” at the words, already leaning towards the direction of the stairs and telling her father to hurry. With a chuckle, Seojin turns to you. “Alright. And Jungkook, please help her with the food.” Seokjin’s gaze falls to your sister, a reminder before he goes completely.

“She’s so cute, I can’t.” Jungkook chuckles.

“Right… my sister was definitely not that cute when we were younger.” you tease, earning an arched brow to your way from your sister. 

“I was the cuter one between us, it’s an established fact,” she rolls her eyes. “When you two get a kid, it better look like Jungkook.” 

Maybe the remark sounded like such a throw-away comment that Jungkook just laughs it off as if it isn’t the first time somebody hinted at you two starting a family. Or maybe he just thinks it isn’t a big deal. Or maybe… maybe he likes the idea? 

You’re about to say something when your sister turns to you.

“You,” she takes you by the shoulders and you look back at her. “You might want to retouch your make-up. Party’s starting soon. And this charcuterie looks—” she looks to the side as if to check if Nari is still around, and when she deems she isn’t at all, she continues to say, “fucking perfect. I love you.” 

“Duh.” you reply, cockily showing off the board to her and to Jungkook who intriguingly looks at your work. 

“I knew you should have been a chef.” Jungkook comments proudly, grinning at you.

“Alright, man,” your sister says in a flat tone, making Jungkook and you laugh. “Jungkook, can help me transfer these to the dining table, please?” She points to the trays of food and Jungkook rounds the counter so he can do just as she requested. 

Before you can head to the powder room, Jungkook brushes past your waist – just one of the candid things he does to have some sort of physical contact with you when you’re not necessarily talking together or close to each other.

It puts a smile on your face as you enter the powder room. 

Inside, you make quick work of putting another layer of lipstick and pressing powder on your face, checking your hair before you stand upright and look at your reflection in the mirror.

You step backwards enough to see half of your body, and from there, you can see how beautiful you look in the outfit you’ve chosen for tonight. It’s a satin red dress with a halter neckline, the gathered drape cascading gracefully around your neck, exposing your shoulders. The silhouette fits at the waist and flows into a straight skirt that stops inches below your knees, and Jungkook may have had a hard time letting you go in your bedroom before you drove to your sister’s place – but you promised him a good time when you get back home so in the end, he had to tuck in a semi on the way from here.

Poor Jungkook. 

Though… you’re beginning to think poor you, instead.

Because you’re thinking about it again. Him in his outfit tonight; the silk polo so he can match yours, and the way he looked so good with a baby girl in his strong arms. 

You can already picture how good he'd look with his own child. He’d be the type of dad who looks effortlessly hot with a baby carrier, showers his kids with gifts because he can’t help himself, and simply excels at being a wonderful father because he’s Jeon Jungkook and he excels in everything he sets his mind to.

Now your brain’s going on a haywire. 

Because now it’s just Jungkook. Hot Jungkook. Jungkook with a baby. Jungkook looking smoking hot carrying his own baby – your baby. 

And wouldn’t it be nice? To carry a being formed by your mutual love? To have someone as adorable and smart and sassy as Nari? God. You hope she’d look like you, but have Jungkook’s eyes because they are your favorite part of him, and then his nose, maybe? And… and maybe have the mole under his lip too, if that was possible. Jungkook had a lot of hair when he came out of his mom’s womb, would your daughter have a lot of hair as well when you give birth to her? 

And why are you already thinking of the gender of your non-existent child? 

You think you’ve gone nuts, but the indulgent little devil on your shoulder is insisting that Jungkook would look so good with a baby girl because you know he’d be such a girl dad. There’s just absolutely no doubt about it, given how he treats Nari. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror again, and absentmindedly, you turn to the side, noting the very clear absence of a bump on your stomach unlike your sister’s. 

Would you carry a baby as gracefully as her? You know her struggles… but… maybe you won’t mind it with a husband like Jungkook… right? Just like she doesn’t mind with a husband like Seokjin. Because Jungkook takes really good care of you. He’d probably panic more than you about certain things. Be extra careful for the both of you. Fetch you your cravings. Love you more than he does now. 

You remember Seokjin rubbing a gentle hand over your sister’s bump, and it brings your own to caress the flat of your stomach over the smooth fabric of your dress. 

Obviously no baby there. But… just imagine. You with a baby bump.

Hah. 

Weird, because it’s the first time the idea’s planted in your head and you kind of like it more than you thought. 

You nibble on your bottom lip as you continue to caress your tummy, not noticing the knock that came from outside. 

“Oh my—” 

“Baby?” 

“Jungkook.” Your hands retreat back to your sides. When you look at Jungkook, standing on the doorway, you let one hand clutch at your chest as you tell him, “You scared me.” 

The door clicks as he locks it behind him. Your husband arches his brow as he goes over to you. “What are you so jumpy for?” 

You ignore the question, looking back to the mirror again to fix your dress. But as you do so, you see his reflection – and you catch how he intently stares at you through the glass as well, walking behind you closer and pressing himself against you. His proximity suddenly makes you nervous.

“You should’ve knocked.” 

“I did. You didn’t answer.” 

“I didn’t hear.” When you turn around, Jungkook takes a curled strand of hair over your face and tucks it behind your ear. 

“You look beautiful. So gorgeous.” He says before he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your lips, one that you welcome fully even though you just reapplied your lipstick. When you break away, you see some remnants on his lips… and realize you picked the wrong lipstick for tonight. You should’ve brought the kiss-proof lippy instead.

You wipe it off and Jungkook smiles before he ducks down, not caring, and kisses your cheek for good measure before he speaks again, “What were you doing in here?” He wiggles his eyebrows, as if he knows you were up to something before he barged in. 

You avoid his gaze and turn back around. 

“Nothing,” You say, trying to busy yourself with your hair again. But Jungkook can be really annoying when he wants to be, so of course he pushes, quite literally and figuratively. 

“What was it? I saw you…” He teases, pushing his nose in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, tightening his hold around you. 

“What did you– Jungkook!” You half-snort and scoff when Jungkook bites your neck playfully. You turn around to push him, but he’s insistent on keeping the nonexistent space between you and cages you in his big presence instead, trapping you in between the edge of the sink and the heat of his body. 

“This damn dress…” Jungkook whispers as he splays his hand over your stomach, which makes your breath hitch. 

Did he really see? See you pretending to have a baby bump at the thought of him impregnating you? 

But Jungkook doesn’t really say anything further, just lets an idle finger run over the curve of your hips up to your waist, until it stops at the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

“Can’t wait to fuck you in this.” He whispers in your ear, eyes meeting your gaze in the mirror, not subtle in the way he checks out your body after. 

You huff out a scoff, giving a little more force into the push that you give him this time. His more relaxed hold on you makes him stumble a little bit backwards, chuckling when you roll your eyes at him once again. 

“You’re not even gonna take it off me?” You ask as your turn on the tap, arching your brow at Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror. 

A sly smirk makes an appearance on his lips. “I don’t need to take anything off to make you cum, baby.” 

You turn around, leaning on the sink. “So you’re saying you’re not interested at all about my very elaborate choice of underwear tonight, then?” 

That catches him off guard, his brows furrowed in confusion and then realization.

“You minx.” 

You chuckle, swatting his hand away when he tries to touch you. When he whines, you take a step forward and wrap your arms around his neck, and Jungkook’s predictably eager to encircle your waist in his arms back again. 

“Later. We have to keep it PG for at least three hours tonight. And you can—” you push at his chest for leverage so you can lean down a little to ride your dress up your thighs. Looking at Jungkook, you watch as he stares at you closely, intently, but oblivious to what you’re doing. He clearly enjoys it, though, judging from the hint of a smile on his lips and the shine in his eyes when more of your skin gets revealed. 

Especially when he catches a glimpse of your white lace underwear that he bought for you himself.

He whistles, and you roll your eyes at the predictable reaction. Taking one of his hands off you, you guide it in between your thighs, earning an involuntary moan from you because Jungkook’s palm automatically cups your heat when he gets close. 

“Ah…” 

“Fuck…” Jungkook looks down where his hand meets your core. “Goddamn,” He says, then you feel him push your panties to the side, dipping the tip of his finger in your pussy. “Why the fuck are you so wet, baby?”

“Y-yeah…” You whine against his chest, gripping his wrist when he attempts to move again. “Kook, don’t.” 

Jungkook halts. He looks at you. Then, he nods. “Alright. Alright. Stop this here?” 

“Hm.” 

He looks down at you with an arched brow. “You started it, though.” 

“You were being flirty.” You say as Jungkook brings your underwear back in place, but not without squeezing your ass first. You nibble on your bottom lip as he rides down the dress, letting it dangle on your knees back again, smoothing the front for you to get rid of the wrinkles. 

“Not my fault you’re hot,” he snorts. “Fuck.” 

“What?” 

“I’m kinda hard…” He says, and you both look down to the bump on his white slacks. Certainly not his full potential (like… you’d know), but it’s still apparent in the light color of his trouser. 

“Poor baby,” you say, can’t help but pat it a little condescendingly which earns a chuckle from Jungkook, him playfully swatting your hand away. 

“You’re so…” 

“I’m so what.” 

Jungkook’s face is a mixture of frustration and amusement. “You always do this shit.” 

You giggle, knowing exactly what he means. But you act like you have no clue. “What?” 

“Get me horny then leave.” He shakes his head, then pokes your waist. 

Chuckling, you kiss him on the cheek quickly, making a beeline to the door quickly lest he tries to kiss you again (and you’ll have no choice but to make out in your sister’s powder room, during her big Christmas party, mind you) and then give him a wink before you go.

 

The ride on the way home felt like it took sixty five years, and it might just be true especially when you’re horny as hell and you got a husband behind the steering wheel looking effortlessly hot in his element. 

You’ve been hot and bothered for hours, and maybe it’s the champagne – probably has gotten in your brain or whatever – but Jungkook was not even done parking when you made a move to palm him over the console. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook hissed, clearly not expecting it at all. He had that wide-eyed look when he frantically turned off the engine, staring at you while your hand grew heavy on his crotch. “Here?” You bit on your bottom lip as you nodded your head. He looked beyond conflicted. “But baby, we’re just ten floors away from our u–”

“Please?” 

And what was he supposed to say? No? 

Absolutely not. Not when your glassy eyes looked so pleading the way they did.   

He just makes your insides churn, especially when you look at him. And for the past few hours, you couldn’t stop thinking about his dick inside you and most especially his cum. (Translation: You can’t stop thinking about him fucking a baby into you).

But… the thing was, you’ve only ever fucked in a car once.

Jungkook’s way too pesky about stuff like that, and somehow, even though he’s already been made aware of your exhibitionist tendencies (cue unprompted sex in public areas like that one time in the beach, window sex at a Ritz hotel back in London and… admittedly many more…) car sex was just… a least favorite. The first and only time you did it was when you were still fresh into dating; at a drive-thru cinema, but it was kind of a whack in both your opinions because it was too cramped up and you bumped your head and you almost got caught which is way too embarrassing of a memory to ever revisit. 

But now maybe that really doesn't matter anymore.

Not when your husband looks like that.

And bottomline is: you just really, really want him to cum in you. 

Oh god. What is wrong with your head tonight? 

“Baby, fuuuck,” Jungkook hisses as you speed up your rhythm up and down his cock. His boxers and slacks are pushed down to the middle of his thighs while his shirt is all but buttoned. Meanwhile, your dress is bunched up in your mid-section. 

You’re near tears on his lap at this point, already feeling your thighs straining at the force you’re exerting in every bounce – but you couldn’t care less. 

“Oh my god, baby– you feel so good,” you moan, eyes shutting close at the feel of his tip hitting that spot inside you whenever you go down.

For the first few minutes, Jungkook took it upon himself to guide your hips in every movement just like he always does when you ride him like this, pounding into you from underneath, but he eventually let you control the pace, leaning way back to the reclined seat and watches you work instead. He stares at you with hooded eyes as you push yourself up and down on his hardened cock, stiletto heels digging the side of his thighs occasionally.

While you pleasure yourself on him, he slides your dress up further, gets a little frustrated that it’s tight on the waist so he can’t push it past your tits. So he feels for your nape to find the zipper because he knows it’s there – he zipped you up in this dress before you drove to your sister’s place – and he delights when he finds the small, cold material, pulling it down blindly until you noticed and help him get yourself out of it. 

Jungkook sighs when the top comes down, snapping the clip of your sleeveless bra and getting it out of the way before he greedily fondles your now bare breasts in his huge palms. 

“Ohh,” you moan when Jungkook flicks your nipples, getting them even harder. You push yourself back, leaning into one elbow on the steering wheel as you begin to rock against him in a back and forth motion,

“Fuck—” Jungkook lets out a guttural groan, squeezing your tits tighter that makes you keen in want. “So fucking sexy, baby. Shit – damn – l-love you.” 

“I-I love you too,” you say, more like a whine, chasing a high he knows is impending. 

Jungkook looks up at you with hooded eyes. Your hair that was once tidy and neat three hours ago is now all over the place, the high bun loosening and some strands falling off your pretty face. Your lipstick smudged and he’s sure the remnants are on his lips, and with your mouth agaped in that erotic o-shape while you pleasure yourself on his cock, Jungkook feels like exploding. 

“Ah– shit,” he groans, feeling the warm crevice of your wet pussy swallow him whole. When you climbed over his lap a while ago after he fingered you, he was gonna take out a condom from the glove compartment but you insisted to not use it, and the picture of you looking down while he pushed your panties to the side and looked into each other’s eyes as you sank down on him is still playing in his head like a broken record.

God fuck damn, you’re just so unreal. The love of his life. His wife. 

He wipes your tear-stained cheeks, torn because he doesn’t like seeing you cry but he does like it when it’s because you’re so eager to bounce on his cock that even though you know you’re pushing it, you continue to do so.

Jungkook lets his hand travel from a boob to linger on your cheek, and he keens on the way you purr when you lean into his touch, smiling slightly when you open your mouth as his thumb nears it. 

You eagerly suck it as if verbally prompted, opening your eyes just so you can stare at his as you lewdly slobber over his finger while you expertly move against his cock, breasts jiggling up and down right in front of his face – the obscene squelches of your lovemaking filling the air of his cramped up benz. 

“You’re so perfect, baby,” Jungkook whispers. “Perfect girl. You love bouncing on my cock, love? Just couldn’t wait until we get home? Hm?” His tone is a bit condescending and cocky. 

When Jungkook takes out his finger from your mouth, you bite your lip as you nod, resuming your up and down motion again. Slamming down on his dick, your hands come up to grip his shoulders tight. 

“We are home.” 

Jungkook chuckles, a rich and dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. A snarky remark gets buried in your throat when you feel a certain zap of electricity coming from your toes to your spine, the hot coil in your stomach edging to burst.

“I’m cumming– oh my god, Jungkook– baby I’m cumming—” You say, speeding up your pace once again. 

With your breasts bouncing in front of his face like that, he couldn’t help but dive right into it, wrapping his lips around one nipple, nipping and sucking and licking, while he busies one hand with fondling the other. He alternated in between both tits, groaning and grunting when your pussy tightens around him, and one more slam on his cock gets you spiraling as you finally cum. 

Jungkook closes his eyes when he feels you gush around him, and he really wishes that he could lay you down, spread you out, and eat the slick right out of you just like how he likes it.

“That’s it, baby – fuck. Good girl, good girl.” 

A long, drawl-out moan slips past your lips, and Jungkook takes it upon himself to keep you bouncing on his cock when your energy dwindles down, rocking his hips upwards, just as eager to reach his high as well. 

You try to pick up your pace to help him, planting your palms on his bare chest to meet his thrusts. 

“Fuck baby, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” Jungkook says in a hushed whisper, groaning, squeezing your ass tight that you know will leave marks the next day. 

“I know, baby – cum for me,” You lean down to capture his lips, whimpering when you feel yourself still coming down from your high.

“Ohh fuuck—” Jungkook moans, a tell-tale sign of his orgasm. “Fuck, I’m cumming—” 

It’s almost second nature the way he looks down on your crotch, hand going over to where you meet – and you almost panic when you realize what he’s about to do. 

“Jungkook, no,” you stop his hand, and he looks at you with utter confusion, rightfully so. Biting your lip, you stare into his eyes as you say, “I want you to come inside me.” 

You watch as his eyes widen, then, “You sure?” He says with furrowed brows.

You nod your head frantically. “Please come in me. I want your come in me. Please, please—” 

“Jesus fuck—” Jungkook’s hips stutter, his grip on yours tightening, gaze darkening as he processes your words. “Fuck. Okay, baby. No need to beg, okay? Fuck. I’ll come inside you.” 

You speed up your pace and you can feel yourself getting there for a second time, and maybe it’s the heat of the moment, but your next words fall from your lips without much thought: “Yeah, yeah –give it to me, Kook. Want your– ah– want your babies.” 

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses, taken aback by your words. “Fuuuck…” He looks up at you, grabs your waist and makes you lean closer. “You mean that?” 

You nod your head, jumping on his cock up and down like your life depends on it. “Want your babies. Want you to cum in me.” 

“Shiiitt,” Jungkook sighs, and you feel him getting harder by the second. “Gonna– gonna fuck a baby in you, baby. Fuck. You don’t know what you do to me– shit, I’m cumming.” 

You both moan in unison when Jungkook finally releases inside you the same time you do so, his cock hardening in your walls, throbbing when you settle down on his lap with him still buried inside you. When the seconds pass, you feel the exhaustion wrapping around you, and you let Jungkook trail kisses up your shoulders and neck at the post-coital momentum. 

“Fuck, that was so hot.” He whispers against your lips, kissing your parted mouth. You sigh against it, all sweaty and fucked out. 

“Oh, baby…” You moan when Jungkook lifts you up and you feel yourself dripping from your cum. 

“Fucking hell, so beautiful baby...” Jungkook trails off, squeezing your breasts before pushing you gently to lean back on the steering wheel. You look down as you watch with a gasp when he slides his cock out from your heat, covered in white and slick, moaning lewdly when he pumps it out for more. 

Some of it spurts on your pussy, and you stare in awe when Jungkook inserts the tip once again in your heat, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the blurred lines between pleasure and overstimulation. 

“Goddammit.” Jungkook sighs, gratified, tapping his cock on your pussy a few times before he grabs your hips again so he can kiss you on the mouth. It almost gives you whiplash when he looks at you with such sincere and genuine eyes as he says, “I love you.” 

“Love you,” you say, closing your eyes when his kisses trail to your jaw and his hands come up to fondle your tits again. His favorite fixation – his words, not yours. “Kook.” 

“Hm.” 

“Sticky.” 

He hums again. You keep your position like that for a few more seconds before Jungkook helps put your panties and dress back in place, picking you up slightly as you climb over the passenger seat. 

You watch as he pulls his boxers and pants back up, buckling his belt around the waist. He hasn’t fixed the unbuttoned state of his shirt yet before he looks at you again with a smile.

“Come here, you,” He says, beckoning you to come closer with his arm around your seat. You grin, crossing the console again to meet the kiss he gives your mouth. Then, Jungkook breaks the contact, caressing your cheek as he speaks. “Babies, huh?” He brings up, eyes so bright; delighted, excited. He has that unshakeable grin. 

And you can’t help but mirror it. 

“Do you want to?” You ask instead. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nervously wait for his answer that doesn’t really take that long. 

“Fuck, yeah. If you want to, then I want to,” he responds. Then, he adds, “And I really, really want to.”

“Okay…” you say, biting your lip to keep yourself from smiling too much. “But it doesn’t have to be now. Or I don’t know. I know it’s only been a year since we got married and all that—” 

“Baby, stop,” Jungkook says before you can finish your thought. “Doesn’t matter if we were one month into the marriage. As long as you’re ready, then I’m ready. Are you ready?”

A few beats. 

It was your horny-adled brain that got you in this position in the first place – but you think about how life with Jungkook would be like with kids added in the equation in the near future.

It would be so far from bad. 

The past year had been nothing short of bliss since you married him, and as you watched Jungkook, a thought warmed your heart: he’d be an incredible dad. The way he loves you, so deeply and selflessly, leaves no doubt in your mind that he’d go above and beyond for your child—or children. You’re certain he’d love them as much as he loves you, perhaps even more.

A smile spreads across your face, and you nod to his question.

“I want a family with you, Kook.”

Jungkook’s face lights up with a delighted smile, mirroring yours. “So, we’re doing this?”

You nod again, biting your lip to temper your excitement.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

You blink at him in surprise. “Why are you thanking me?”

He shakes his head with a gentle smile and leans in to kiss you again. “Just… thank you.”

You furrow your brows, squinting at him in playful confusion. Before you can say more, he leans forward and nips the tip of your nose.

“Ow!” you exclaim, laughing.

“You’re cute,” Jungkook teases. “But we’ve gotta clean up and head home. Then, we can keep practicing putting my baby in you—on a nice, comfortable bed this time.” He winks, pecking your cheek as he buttons his shirt and unbuckles his seatbelt.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you do the same. “Admit it, you like car sex.”

Jungkook hums nonchalantly, his cheeky grin giving him away. You chuckle, shaking your head at him, love radiating in every moment between you.

[sonotpattismith]

as soft as we know

pairing: choso kamo x reader word count: 12.7k (oops) content: fluff, angst, choso experiencing his first christmas, jealousy, insecurity, loss of virginity, choso being a sweetie pie, smut, 18+ a/n: this is a continuation of 'it's britney, bitch', but it can definitely be read independently as well

“That’s not where it goes, Cho.”

“Lower?” 

“A little bit.”

“Here?”

Grunting in frustration, you reached for his wrist, guiding his hand to the proper positioning. 

“These are supposed to be his arms, Cho.” You laughed despite your playful exasperation, helping him carefully shove the small stick he’d found into the snowman’s lumpy torso. 

Stepping back to check your progress, you smiled gleefully and bit back a cackle at the state of it. Its head was far too small for its body, and the rocks you two had found for his eyes were completely different sizes. 

Turning to catch Choso’s reaction to his first snowman, you were almost caught off guard by his stoic expression. His sharp, dagger like gaze could cut straight through glass, pairing terrifyingly with the firm line his lips were set in. One thing you had learned in the few months you’d been with the half-curse though, was that he had the nastiest case of resting bitch face that you’d ever seen on a man. It was no wonder you were so put off by him upon first meeting. Still, you couldn’t help but tilt your head a little to meet his gaze. 

“You okay?” You questioned with a knowing smile. 

Blinking away the snowflakes that had gathered on his dark lashes, his eyes seemed to light up at your question, the abrupt switch in expressions nearly giving you whiplash. 

“Yeah, he looks funny. Why?” Choso grinned sincerely, reaching out to gently brush the snow from your hair. “Was I doing that thing with my face again?” 

“Yeah, you were.” You giggled and reached up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, gripping at his bicep for balance. He hummed appreciatively, a flush quickly coming up to paint his pale cheeks. It was something you were eternally grateful that he hadn’t grown out of since the beginning of your relationship. You were sure if the day ever came that he stopped blushing so furiously at your kisses, your heart would split in two. 

“Does it look how you wanted it to?” He asked as he reached out to straighten the right eye that had slipped a bit. Huffing out a sigh, you sized up the snowman that looked like he had definitely seen better days. 

“He looks… unique.” You offered with a tilted head, trying to see which angle would make it look halfway decent. “But hey, if I can’t decorate a tree, our freak snowman is gonna have to do to get me into the Christmas spirit.”

“Why can’t we decorate a tree?” He questioned with a tilt of his head. From what you had told him, the tree was kind of the main event of this holiday you seemed to be buzzing about. 

“I don’t have time this year.” You muttered dejectedly, distracting yourself by straightening out the drooping arms of your snowman. “I’m supposed to be filling in as supervisor for some of the kids’ missions in the next few weeks.”

Choso hummed pensively, taking note of the gloom that had suddenly befallen your once cheerful mood. In a meek attempt to salvage it, he nodded toward the snowman. 

“Is there anything else we can do to him?”

“Well, I wanted to fix his head, but I think my fingers are gonna freeze off if we don’t stop here.” You confessed sheepishly.

“You’re cold?”

“You’re not?” Your brows rose challengingly, giving him a once over to note that he appeared perfectly comfortable. 

Choso tried to hide his anticipatory smile as he pulled you closer, tugging his gloves off with his teeth to reveal his chipping, black painted nails, courtesy of you, of course. It took almost four weeks of you observing the way he’d watch you so intently as you gave yourself haphazard manicures on the floor of your dorm. You would feel his warm breath over your shoulder as you picked up various bottles to choose your weekly color.

 One evening, you had of course seen it coming a mile away when he apprehensively requested if you could do his, too. You could remember smiling knowingly at him before nudging your chin toward the bottles to prompt him to pick one.

Maybe it was because this grunge side Choso had been ever so slowly leaning into as he came into his own made you swoon just a bit, but you’d be lying if you said your shared, weekly manicures hadn’t become some of your favorite memories with him. 

It was time for a touch up, you determined with a soft smile while he gently gathered your hands to uncover them as well. A slow breath escaped you as his large hands enveloped yours, and you gradually felt a steady warmth begin to fill his palms. Your thus far frigid fingers felt as though they were defrosting in his grip, and you nearly moaned in relief. 

“Is that your technique?” You finally gathered, his supposed immunity to the cold becoming less mysterious. He hummed affirmatively, shifting to place both your hands in one of his as the other came up to cup your rosy, snow-kissed cheek.

Leaning into the heater-like quality of his palm, you peered up at him through your lashes. He became more beautiful each time you looked at him, you were sure. 

The dark circles you once found so intimidating now served as an enticing emphasis for his chocolate, brown eyes. His ever-shifting blood-mark gave a dark edge to his otherwise benevolent nature that never failed to send shivers down your spine. These days, he was wearing his hair loose more and more, and maybe it was because you liked to tangle your fingers in it when he kissed you, but he’d never admit that, of course. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as his thumb maneuvered down to brush heat along your chin, unintentionally snagging on your bottom lip on the way. Everything about him made your mind turn to degenerate mush, and it only seemed to be getting worse the longer you spent with him. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take of the careful tango you two had been spinning in the past few months. 

Choso had been adapting quicker than you had expected to the sorts of little intimacies that came along with being in a romantic relationship. It took some gentle coaching for him to understand what types of those intimacies were appropriate and where. When he was introduced to the notion that your lips were essentially free game for him, you would have thought he’d won the lottery. You by no means minded that his new favorite hobby was discovering all the ways he could leave your lips red and raw, but you preferred he not do it in public.

Still, some neck kisses and love bites seemed to be the extent of Choso’s exploration so far, and you weren’t sure if it was your place to introduce more to him just yet. The man made it hard though when he looked at you with those tired, sultry eyes. Little moments like this, where it was clear how easily tenderness came to him, had your mind wandering around questions of how nice those heated hands of his would feel running up the insides of your thighs.

“I know something that will warm you up faster.” His raspy voice pulled you from your sinful thoughts, the suggestive context making your eyes fly open to meet his loving gaze. The corners of your lips twitched up in anticipation as your breath mingled with his and created ghosts that danced against the contrasting frigid air between you. You tilted your head down to press a soft kiss against his thumb as you raised a questioning brow at him. “Hot chocolate? I found the thick one that Yuji likes.”

Despite the crushing disappointment that you felt in your core, down to the heat between your thighs, you couldn’t help but smile in amusement at his oblivion. Acting on a gnawing urge, you wrapped your arms around his thick torso from under his puffer jacket and squeezed him, a small part of you wishing he’d always stay this adorably oblivious. 

“I’d kill for some, Cho.” You mumbled against his chest, sighing contentedly as his Herculean arms came around your shoulders to squeeze you back. A squeal of delight escaped you when you felt your feet leave the ground, wrapping your legs around his hips so you could climb into a more secure position, arms locked around his shoulders now as he began his trek back to the school with his hands gripping at your thighs.

It was something Choso took notice of very early on, how you’d flush instantly whenever he’d sweep you off your feet. That, and it didn’t hurt that his hands could wander without question when he was carrying you around wherever you went. His curiosity seemed to grow with each passing day, and he was quickly realizing that he was greedy, forever chasing an inexplicable craving he had for you that only drove him crazier the more he fed it. He had a general idea of what his body was asking of him, but the half-curse was still painfully unaware of how to broach the topic, or even what to do. 

So, for now, he’d allow his hands to creep up the expanse of your plush thighs, the ones he could undoubtedly squeeze between his fingers till they fell off. You didn’t stop him as his veiny hands drifted up to cup at the swell of your rear, so he figured it was innocent enough, even if it felt so incredibly far from it. God, how his digits seemed to be lighting ablaze, that insatiable demon in the back of his mind roaring for more as it always did. He wondered if you’d notice, glancing at your contended side profile as he allowed his fingers to squish at those enticing pieces of you that seemed so off limits despite your lack of protest. They were soft, just as he thought they’d be, and maybe if he just snuck a few inches lower he’d be able to see if that heat that seemed to emanate from between your legs was—

“Having fun?” You mused, trying to calm the way your breath wanted to hitch as he drew closer and closer to where you so desperately wished he’d explore, but you were entering the common area now, and you really didn’t want to have to deal with the consequences should someone see his hand on its way to your now throbbing heat. 

In an instant, he halted his exploration, and you chuckled breathily as you watched the blood creep up his neck. 

“Sorry,” he stammered out, guilt beginning to eat at his chest. “I didn’t mean to make—”

“It’s okay, Cho.” You reassured, leaning back to look in his eyes that wanted to focus on anything but you at the moment. Your fingers crept up his nape to twist at the soft tufts of hair there, making him hesitantly peer at you. “You can… touch me wherever you want. Just when it’s us two though, okay?”

The thought had his mind spinning, his heart racing into his throat as he pondered all the possibilities. For now though, you were sliding down his torso, your boots hitting the wood floors with a small thud as you greeted his younger brother who perked up at your mention of hot chocolate. Choso blinked a few times when Yuji asked him if he was okay, and he quickly plastered on a smile, finally lighting up at the thought of spending some time with his two favorite people. 

Though it didn’t happen how you two had expected, the brothers had actually grown closer since the beginning of your relationship. Maybe it was because Choso’s time was actually occupied by something else for a change, and it had finally given Yuji the space he needed to come to his older brother on his own volition. The other theory was tethering on the fact that the pink haired boy and his friends were genuinely baffled that the half-curse had managed to woo you into a relationship, and they were constantly trying to butt in these days to get a sense of how that dynamic even worked. 

Either way, those little moments of Yuji’s incessant nosiness and reaching out to his brother for a change, you felt so lucky to have been able to watch a genuine connection form between the two. 

You smiled warmly as you got the ingredients together, watching as they looked out the window at the snowman you two left behind. The younger boy was using some… colorful terms to describe the unique creation, surely just so he could rile Choso up as he was growing so expert at doing. Rolling your eyes in mock exasperation, you turned to Megumi and Nobara who had been spectating on the sidelines.

“You guys want some too?” You offered, pretending not to notice the way Choso now had his brother in a headlock as he demanded that he apologize for criticizing the snowman you had worked so hard on. Both observers mumbled in agreement, too busy trying to see who would win this one. With a defeated sigh, you began pulling out some mugs. 

“Got enough for one more?” 

The voice almost had you groaning in disappointment, but the last thing you wanted was to cause an unnecessary scene, so you simply clutched at the mug in your hand tightly before offering a tight lipped smile. The smug man leaned on the counter beside you gleamed as his lips twisted into a smirk. 

“Want peppermint in yours?” You offered with as kind a voice you could manage, begrudgingly looking up at Hiroki, with his perfectly punchable face. Since you’d stood him up those months ago upon giving into Choso’s begging, he had been oh so subtly taunting around you. He was smart with it though, never blatant enough for anyone else to notice or even for you to point it out, but you could see it in that sneering glint in his eyes, he was holding it over your head. 

“You trying to tell me I should freshen up for ya’?”

At this, both Nobara and Megumi tore their attention away from the fight to make sure they’d heard that correctly. Even Yuji stopped his attempts to fight his brother off to blink up dumbly at the suggestive comment. You felt the irritation creeping up your neck in the form of flushed skin at the thought of your students having to witness this painfully awkward situation. 

“Dude, are you gonna let him do that in front of you?” The pink-haired boy whispered incredulously at Choso, who was still trying to gather why the energy in the room had changed so abruptly. His brows twitched down in confusion, and he couldn’t understand what was so wrong with the man’s words, but he knew your shoulders were tense and the smile on your face wasn’t a genuine one. Slowly releasing Yuji, he was by your side quicker than you could have processed that the room had grown so silent. 

You felt his hand creep around to rest on your side as he smiled at Hiroki. A ball of guilt twisted in your stomach— you had never told Choso that he was the one you’d stood up all those months ago, and you certainly hadn’t told him about the way he’d been subtly taunting you about it either. 

“Right,” you stammered, hoping desperately to pull it together lest you make the tension obvious to your oblivious boyfriend. “No peppermint then.” 

“Actually, forget about mine— not as enticing when everyone wants it, y’know?” Hiroki shrugged with a poorly hidden smirk as he reached out to brush a stray hair behind your ear. For a second time that day, Choso could feel the energy shift, and he wasn’t sure why the man’s words felt sickening as they settled in the air around him. The hand on your waist tightened, and he pulled you just the few centimeters it took to press you against his side. He was sure if his fingers weren’t pressed to you, they would’ve found their way around this man’s neck. “But let me know when you’ve had your fill, yeah?”

As he walked away, Choso stepped forward, unsure of what he would do but acting on an instinct he had yet to feel throughout his self-exploration as a human. Your hand, still warm from the tight grasp you had on the mug before you, wrapped around his fingers to tug him back. As if coming back down to earth, he blinked a few times, looking back at you with that familiarly terrifying expression— though you were already used to it.

“Are… you okay?” He asked quietly, still unsure of what had transpired and why it seemed to have changed the trajectory of their otherwise pleasant day. 

You nodded, looking away from his concerned gaze to top off his hot chocolate with some marshmallows. As he peered down at the mug now being presented to him, you held your breath. Slowly, he allowed his tired smile to once again replace his frown, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek in thanks. The memory of what had transpired still lingered in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to let it ruin his day as he began handing the filled mugs out to his brother and his friends. 

You hoped that Choso had forgotten the whole ordeal by that night. The scene kept replaying in your head as the steaming water from your shower ran down your back— how you just stood there and took it as he humiliated you. At the very least, you were grateful that your boyfriend wasn’t too well-versed in deciphering innuendos just yet, but it was clear that he knew something wasn’t quite right. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have pulled him back, let him act on whatever his instincts were clearly telling him to do at that moment. Though Hiroki was a talented enough sorcerer, you were confident in the ways Choso could outmatch him in size as well as combat. It would have been satisfying enough just to see the look on his face as your otherwise docile boyfriend stalked toward him with nothing but human instinct and lean muscle on his side. You smiled at the thought while turning the shower off.

No matter how much he probably deserved the reality check, Hiroki was still technically your coworker. The last thing you wanted was a meeting with the higher ups about how ‘mixing business with pleasure always ended badly’. It gave you a headache just thinking about it. You could be civil, you rationed with yourself as you towel dried. You only wondered if you could say the same for Choso if he ever put two and two together.

Sighing wistfully, you hung up your towel, moving to grab your clothes and get dressed. Blinking a few times in confusion, you took note of the empty counter where you typically left your clothes waiting for you. 

“Shit.” You groaned quietly, your heart picking up a bit at the mental image of your pajamas at the edge of your bed where you’d forgotten them. Chewing at your bottom lip, your eyes drifted to the closed door where you knew Choso was waiting on the other side of. 

You shook your head at your unnecessary nerves. Sure, you two had never… explored each other in such a way yet, but you were both adults. Ripping your towel back off the rack, you wrapped it snuggly around yourself before cracking the door open and peeking out. 

Your boyfriend was lying stomach down on your bed, surely pretending to be sleeping as he had a tendency of doing so you wouldn’t kick him out at the end of the day. Rolling your eyes at his performance, you quietly slipped through the door, hoping he’d keep his eyes closed long enough for you to gather your clothes and run back into the bathroom. 

As you tiptoed to the other side of the bed, you weren’t expecting his eyes to already be open, now staring widely back at you with an unreadable expression. With a small yelp of surprise, you flinched back. It took expert reflexes, but you managed to catch your towel swiftly as it began to slip down your chest. 

Choso would be a stone cold liar if he said he had never imagined what was always hiding beneath the chunky cardigans and oversized sweaters you seemed so fond of. Though he could say with full confidence that he didn’t expect to be so… distracted by it now that it was right in front of him. Well, underneath the towel you were clutching desperately to, but still— it stopped barely midway down your thighs, allowing his eyes to traverse the smooth expanse of your legs and give him just an infuriatingly small taste of the curve of your ass that began just where the fabric ended. 

He felt his fingers twist into the pillow he had clutched underneath his head as his eyes traveled up to your chest, where the swell of your breasts threatened to burst out the top of your towel thanks to the tight grip it now had around your body. They were almost heaving in time with your labored breaths, still glistening from the water of your shower, and god did he want to just lick it off of you. 

“I forgot my clothes.” You stated awkwardly, hoping that he’d either make a move already or just close his eyes. This though— the silent, wide eyed stares that did little to reveal just what was going on in that head of his, the anticipation of what might come— you weren’t sure you could handle it anymore. 

Choso licked his lips, finally blinking for the first time in what seemed to you like hours, before slowly sitting up at the edge of the bed. Tearing his gaze from you, his eyes landed on the neatly folded clothes beside him. It felt as though there was lead in his arms as he carefully picked them up. Instead of handing them to you as you thought he would though, they instead hovered over his lap as he continued to stare down at them in uncertainty. 

“Cho—” You began, but he finally looked up at you.

“Can I kiss you?” He requested, fisting at your clothes while his eyes gave your body another once over before meeting yours again. “Just like this?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the way his ominous eyes seemed to drink you in. Releasing a shaky breath, you took a tentative step toward him, now standing directly between his muscular legs. In an instant, he was dropping your clothes to the ground, head tilting back to watch what you’d do next. 

With your fist tightening around your towel, you carefully raised your knee to rest it beside his hip before doing the same with the other until you hovered over his lap. His glistening, pink lips parted, and you swore you heard the tiniest of moans slip past them as his hands quickly found the small of your back to pull you into a snug straddle on his lap. One of his hands remained firmly on your back as the other crept up to softly grasp your jaw as he finally kissed you. 

That long since dreamt about, golden spot between your legs was pressed right against him now, and, even with the god-forsaken barrier of his pants, he could feel its heat right on his groin. Choso whined into your mouth, the fresh scent of your body wash only adding to the circus of sensations that were overriding his system. 

The hand on your jaw drifted down your damp neck, testing its luck as it grazed over the mound of your breast still covered by the towel. You arched against his tentative touch, and he wondered if you’d think he was completely depraved if he asked you to take the damned thing off. If only he knew you were only keeping the useless fabric on for the sake of him setting his own pace. 

Despite this, you couldn’t help yourself as you allowed your hands to dance down his torso and creep under the hem of his crewneck. Your fingers greedily explored his chiseled physique, the sensation of his abs jolting against your touch making you press yourself into the steadily growing tent in his pants. Choso gasped greedily at the feeling, quickly pulling away from you to yank his shirt over his head once your hands reached his shoulders. 

Had you been given the chance, you were sure you could have spent hours staring at each rippling muscle of his abdomen, the way even his shoulders looked so deliciously defined— you wanted to just lean forward and take a bite of him. So, you did, hands gripping at his bulging biceps for balance as you sunk your teeth into his firm trap. His jaw dropped open involuntarily, and it was now his turn to drive his solid bulge into your center. You moaned softly around his muscle, releasing it in favor of wet kisses to soothe the now irritated area.

Choso wanted so desperately to chase that sultry sound that had just swam into his ears. He gripped at the nape of your neck to pull you back, panting softly as he stared into your blown-out eyes.

“Did… did that feel good?” He asked, hoping to any god that would listen to him that he wasn’t all alone with these confusingly craven feelings. 

“Yeah,” You quickly rasped out, placing a hand on his shoulder to push him back against the mattress. His hand hesitantly found your thigh, running his palm up the smooth flesh until his fingers met the hem of your towel. Leaning forward, you rolled your hips against his, delighting in the way his face scrunched up so gorgeously when he moaned. “Everything you do feels good to me, Cho.”

The fingers against your thigh squeezed at the fat there as his free hand reached up to tuck your hair behind your ear in hopes of getting a better look at you. Despite his mind being on a completely different astral realm at the moment, this movement struck a memory he desperately wanted to forget about right now. 

Shaking his head subtly, he pushed it to the back of his mind and allowed his hand to creep under your towel as you leaned down to kiss him once again. Your skin was still warm from your shower, and his fingers were a mere inches away from your bare ass, and god why the fuck can’t he stop thinking about Hiroki and his grimy hands in your hair?

You pulled back a bit upon noticing the falter in his movements. 

“You okay, Cho? You wanna stop?”

“No!” He insisted eagerly, cursing himself for ruining the moment. An amused smile played at your lips, and you leaned down to begin pressing wet kisses against his jaw. His dark eyes stared up at the ceiling, the same words replaying in his mind until he couldn’t take it anymore. In one swift moment, he sat up, hands gripped at your back so you didn’t fall off his lap as you yelped in surprise. “I just…”

The way your fingers were now tracing feather-light touches up the nape of his neck was making it hard for him to concentrate. Still, when he looked at you he could only see that unexplainably tense expression you’d given just a few hours ago. Whatever chills the sensation of your bare thighs pressed against the skin of his waist were producing though were wildly outnumbered by that gnawing feeling of dread growing steadily in his stomach. 

“What did he mean?” Choso’s question came out firmly despite his apprehensive gaze. You tilted your head in question, but he quickly clarified upon seeing your confusion. “Hiroki.” 

You didn’t say anything for a moment, but your knowing expression still made his stomach churn. 

“Is that really what you’re thinking about right now, Cho?” You tried to smile easily at him, leaning forward to press another chaste kiss to his pouted lips, to which he returned quickly. 

“Something is going on.” He pulled away just enough to mumble against your lips. With his forehead pressed against yours, you could feel the way his brows furrowed at the thought of being left out of something seemingly significant. You sighed, your warm breaths mingling in the minuscule space between you. 

“Remember when I was gonna go on that date? You know, before we got together.” You began as you pulled away to sit back on his thighs. After a short moment of thought, he nodded. The slow unfurrowing of his brows told you he was already placing the pieces together though. “It was supposed to be with him, and… I guess he’s just still upset about how I went about it, is all.” 

“So, when he said to let him know when you got your fill—”

“Choso, don’t think—”

“He meant of me.” 

The mark against his nose twitched as his face heated, but for the first time, you weren’t sure if it was born from embarrassment or rage. You tried to gage the far off look in his eyes but were coming up short. A shiver shot down your spine when he looked at you once again, his dark eyes sharp as daggers. 

“He talked about you like you were food.” He spat, the rest of the odd conversation finally clicking in his mind. The fingers against your back dug into your towel before he carefully maneuvered you to the spot beside him. You quickly sat up when he snatched his crewneck from the end of the bed. Grabbing blindly at your sweatpants, you shoved them on under your towel. 

“What are you doing?” You questioned cautiously, gripping at the other end of his sweater to stop him. 

“I’m going to talk to him.” But the enraged glint in his eyes told you he had more detailed plans than he was letting on. 

“No, you’re not.” You insisted, tugging on his arm. 

“This isn’t the first time he’s talked to you like this, is it?” He assumed, searching your face as if daring you to lie. “I don’t like this. I’m going to say something.” 

“Choso, I’m asking you to please let it go.” You pleaded as you tugged him down to sit beside you. “If you make a scene, I’m going to be the one who will have to clean it up later. Please, I’m a big girl— you don’t need to defend me.”

His shoulders slowly deflated while taking in the desperation in your eyes. He could feel his resolve slipping from right underneath him. 

“Will it really upset you?” 

“It really will.” 

The man’s sigh morphed into a quiet groan that you wouldn’t have noticed had you not been so close to him at the moment. His shadowy eyes, still swimming with that unmistakable vexation, watched as the frigid air finally caught up to you, and a subtle tremble shook your frame. Pursing his pouted lips, he slipped his forgotten crewneck over your head before pulling the damp towel off of you. 

“Are you gonna kick me out now?” He muttered, widening his eyes in the matter he knew you always seemed to melt for. As you had already come to recognize— Choso catches on fast.

“You can stay as long as you do that heater thing with your hands again.” You compromised with a grin, watching as he wasted no time pulling the covers over the two of you. Scooting closer to you, both his hands came up to cup your face, and you soon melted into the warmth that flooded them. Humming contentedly, you reached up to hold onto his wrist as you allowed your eyes to drift shut. 

He studied you as you relaxed against him, the fat of your cheeks squished against his hands, and he felt his heart accelerate. It had been a few months now since he began learning of this side of humanity— learning about you. No matter how much he seemed to squeeze at you when he had the privilege of being beside you, or how ever long he’d spend memorizing the divots and marks on your face, nothing Choso did ever stopped the longing he felt for you when you parted. A soft call of your name had you humming in question, too comfortable to bother opening your eyes. 

“Do you think you’ll ever… get your fill of me?” 

At his apprehensive question, you sighed wistfully, blindly trailing your hand up until it tangled into his hair. 

“I could never get enough of you, Cho. I— ” I love you. The words died in your throat. Cracking your eyes open, you found that he was already peering back at you, patiently awaiting the rest of your sentence. Was he ready for that? Were you ready for that? Even so, you questioned if he would really understand the depths of your words enough to reciprocate them genuinely. Twisting your fingers into the hair on his nape, you tugged at it gently, the way he always shivered over. “I think you’re my favorite guy.” 

The way he smiled warmly at you, eyes glistening as he started from scratch once again making sure he had every part of you committed to memory, told you that your meaning got across anyway. One of his hands creeped around to the back of your head to pull you against his bare chest, slotting his leg between yours in hopes of enveloping you completely. 

“You’re my favorite girl.” 

As the two of you went about your week, you prayed that your intimate reassurance would be enough for Choso. Though you could hardly blame him for getting so upset, you wouldn’t change your stance on him letting this one go. And, truthfully, he had all but forgotten it that next morning when he woke up beside you. The only thing still fresh in his mind was your sweet promise, the reassurance that, of all the men that had waltzed into your life, he had somehow managed to find himself at the top of your list. 

This haze-like bliss only lasted so long though, and he was rudely reminded of the need for that conversation in the first place when he saw Hiroki again. The man wasn’t even doing anything wrong, simply talking to one of the supervisors about his next assignment, but everything about him made Choso’s blood boil. 

You had agreed to go on a date with him once, so that must mean at some point in time, in some shape or form, you had been interested in him, too. It was selfish, childish even, but to hell if he didn’t feel like a petulant toddler at the very thought of it. Tearing his eyes away from the man, he continued to remind himself of your request. 

“You gonna show this dude up or what?” Nobara suddenly questioned with a quirk of her perfectly defined brow. Luckily, your fondness of the half-curse helped Yuji’s friends warm up to him more, though they still had difficulty relating to his strange demeanor half the time. 

Choso grumbled under his breath, continuing to collect the materials they needed for their sparring today. A part of him wanted to yell that he was trying to, but he thought it best to keep the kids out of his relationship with their sensei. 

“Yeah, bro, I can’t believe you didn’t kick his ass the other day.” Yuji guffawed with a shake of his head. 

“It’s not worth the trouble.” He responded simply, hoping that they’d change the subject so he could think of anything else. 

“Like hell it is!” The redhead scoffed, piling the targets she was holding into Megumi’s arms so she could pop her hip at the man before her. “You’re underestimating how much girls like a man that fights for them.”

This made Choso’s movements falter for a moment. Should he really be taking romantic advice from teenagers? Yuji circled around him as he continued driving home their point. 

“Yeah, you’re basically giving this dude free reign to flirt with your girl when you just stand there and let it happen.” 

“That’s not what I’m doing.” The half-curse finally defended, his mind reeling with the mixed information he was receiving.

“Then do something about it!” Kugisaki shouted in exasperation as the trio followed him outside. “You want her to feel unappreciated? Get bored of you?”

Her words hit him like a ton of bricks, the memory of Hiroki’s taunting playing like a sick melody in the back of his head. Perhaps if he had been in a different state of mind, not already plagued with insecurities of which he’d never had to worry about before, he would have been able to recognize that the teenagers probably didn’t know best. But it wasn’t different though, and insecurity and jealousy were rearing their ugly heads at him in a first time’s greeting. 

Choso was far too consumed in these new, vile emotions to not allow these kids’ words to seep into his veins. So, when Hiroki passed by him with that nasty smirk on his smug face as the student’s were sparring, purposefully shouldering at the half-curse’s already tensed arm, rational thought was out the window. His hand quickly wrapped around the man’s wrist before he could leave. Taking a calculated breath, he thought that maybe talking wouldn’t be so bad. 

“What’s your pro—”

“I know what you’re doing, and I’m asking you to stop.” Choso explained levelly, his grip unintentionally tightening around his wrist as Hiroki raised an amused brow at him. “You’re making her uncomfortable.”

“Easy man, c’mon.” There was the smallest trace of unease in the man’s falsely nonchalant voice. He tugged at his arm in an attempt to free it, but there wasn’t a chance in hell that was happening before he agreed to the request being laid before him. “I haven’t done anything to her.”

“I know you think I’m stupid, but I’m not.” Choso seethed, and perhaps that insecurity was doing the speaking for him, because he just knew how he appeared to everyone else. Despite his age, he was less experienced, less assimilated to the world around him, and though he tried, he wasn’t sure he’d ever catch up. Still, he wasn’t a child, and the last thing he wanted was for you to ever think of him as someone who couldn’t be there for you because of his inexperience with humanity. “And she might be worried about making a mess, but I’m not.”

He wasn’t sure what was coming over him, but it felt as though he might implode without the opportunity to prove himself to this scum who at one point had a shot with you— who was fucking with you right under his nose. Hiroki scoffed “There’s no need for all that. We’re friends right?” Using his free hand, he patted Choso’s shoulder with an attempted brotherly bonding gesture before leaning into his ear. “No bitch worth getting a black eye for, right?”

He wasn’t sure what caught the trio’s attention away from their sparring first— the instantaneous morphing of his blood mark as it traversed the length of his vexed face in tandem with his last resolve of patience snapping, or the literal snapping of Hiroki’s wrist under his crushing grip. 

“Call her by her name.” His heated demand somehow made it out over the pained yells of the man crumpling to his knees before him. 

“I—”

“Actually,” Choso’s indignation wouldn’t let him just shut the fuck up and let it go. The feeling of bones crunching under his grip didn’t quell his anger— it made it worse. He was boiling over, bursting at the seams in search of relief that was nowhere in sight. “Don’t speak to her again— don’t speak about her again.” 

He thought it would help, give him a sense of accomplishment that he’d protected you from the disrespect of the lesser than individuals you were forced to call coworkers. What he didn’t understand though, was the fact that he was protecting himself. This man could come and make you think lesser of him, and how could he not do anything to stop it? Though he’d had time for his confidence in areas such as combat and technique to flourish over the years, Choso still held the vulnerability of a man decades younger than his body revealed. 

Despite his own justification, nothing would do away with the precipicing guilt setting his guts ablaze with discomfort. It couldn’t be explained— Hiroki deserved it, he deserved the humiliation of having to wake in the morning with the knowledge that everyone saw him brought to his knees so easily. So, why was the half-curse’s mind reeling with dramatized scenarios of how he might explain himself to you when the news undoubtedly found your ears? No matter the myriad of alternate endings he’d concocted though, nothing could have truly prepared him for the betrayal in your eyes as you burst into his space that night. 

Choso stood from the edge of his bed with a haste, as if trying to shroud the fact that he’d been staring at the door with an inexplicable immobility for what seemed like hours. His eyes fluttered as the heavy door fell back against its frame with a thud. Your lips parted, almost as though you had your monologue pre-planned from the moment you began your enraged trek toward his living space, but they shut with a click of your teeth as your face scrunched in frustration. 

His feet were planted firmly into the wooden floors beneath him, preparing himself for the calculated rage that was surely building within that heavenly frame of yours. What came though was worse, because your words were quiet and your eyes lost that flare of outrage that they held when you first entered, replaced by a hoaxed glimmer that made your irises gloss over heartbreakingly. 

“I asked you not to, Choso.” Your cheeks were still ablaze with an unfamiliar rouge, and he wasn’t sure if it was the bitterness of the cold nipping at your skin or an internal ticking clock. 

“How could I have ignored it?” He tried, but you were shaking your head before the last syllables spilled from his lips. 

“Because I asked you not to.” You ground out once again, that rage making a sudden resurgence as you took an indignant step toward him. “Do you know how humiliated I was?”

“You didn’t hear what he said about—”

“I don’t care what he said!” You gasped in exasperation, a smile of disbelief gracing your face before it fell back into that painful scrunch that made his soul cry out. “I don’t care about him. I care about you, I care about my job, my reputation, Choso!” 

The man fell silent before you, his face beginning to sting from the blood rushing to his mortified cheeks. He could only stare down at you with that familiar pout as you crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head. 

“I had to hear about how I was the cause of some pissing match today that put one of our sorcerers on leave.” You began pacing the room in your incensed explanation. Choso wanted to ask you what that meant, as he always felt so comfortable doing with you, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth. “Which, by the way, I am now having to help out on missions during said leave, just to put a cherry on top of this shit cake.” 

“I-I’m sorry, I—”

“No you’re not, you’re sorry because I’m having to clean it up like I told you I would.” You knew you might have been laying it on a little thick, but logic was racing from you in the midst of your humiliation. 

“You’re right, I’m not sorry.” He stated affirmatively, as if just now coming to this realization himself. Your brows shot into your hairline. “And you can’t expect me to be, it’s not fair. I can’t, I don’t know—”

“Yes, you can.”

“I don’t know how.”

“I’ve seen you learn to do things a hell of a lot harder than controlling your anger, Choso.”

“No— I don’t know how to not feel like I’m not good enough for you.” He finally confessed, face ablaze with a shameful tint of red. Your arms gradually fell from their defensive position, hovering at your sides with the weight of a thousand bricks as you watched the dampness gather in his waterline. “I-I’m sorry I made things hard for you, but I don’t know what to do with these feelings. You might have had time to figure it out, but this is my first time, okay?”

“Choso—” You breathed softly, reaching out for him when he turned from you to bury the heels of his hands into his leaking eyes.

“I’m sorry if I messed up. I just don’t know, I don’t—” His trembling ramble was cut short when you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back. “Sometimes I don’t understand when someone is making fun of me right to my face, but I didn’t care until they started doing it to you, and I was…” You felt him take a shuddering breath. “I was too clueless to be there for you, or to defend you, or—”

“Cho, please look at me.” You pleaded gently. With an anxious air that was just so like him, he slowly shifted in your loosening grasp until you were looking right up at his blushing, tear stained cheeks. “I’m sorry I got mad at you. I didn’t know you were feeling like this.”

His somber eyes drifted to the side as if unable to look at you as he carefully sank onto the floor. You placed a hand on his shoulder while you lowered your beside him, watching carefully as he shoved his head into his hands.

“You shouldn’t be apologizing to me. I’m the one that messed up.” He corrected affirmatively. After a moment though, he peeked up at you with a hesitant purse of his lips. “Well, I didn’t mess up when I broke his wrist. I’d do it to his other hand too if I had the chance.”

Despite the mess his aforementioned actions had spilled upon you, you couldn’t help but laugh softly with an incredulous shake of your head. 

“Can I be honest?” You questioned, nudging against his arm with your shoulder, and he nodded with a quick sniffle. “I’m almost more upset that I didn’t get to see it.”

This helped ease some of the palpable tension in his shoulders, knowing that if you were still able to laugh with him that he hadn’t entirely fucked everything up. A shy smile spread shakily across his wet lips. Leaning forward, you brushed a featherlight touch against his cheek.

“Sometimes I feel things so deeply, and I don’t know where to put it all.” His attempted explanation made your heart warm. “I don’t know how to make sense of them, and I don’t know if I’m the only one feeling them.”

“Give them to me then.” You insisted, shifting to sit on your knees in front of him. “I’ll help you. I always have, remember? You have to talk to me though.”

Give them to you? There was a point so early on in your relationship when he was willing to do so without question, eager to learn whatever wisdom your advantage on humanity could give him. You always seemed to have the right answer— the ones that made it all click into place. Choso was learning though that as your relationship blossomed, as did the complexity of all those human emotions— as did the intensity of them. How far could he push before the impending possibility came to fruition that he was alone in these alien feelings? 

“I thought if he kept talking about me that… eventually you’d believe him.” 

You maneuvered closer to him until his hands found your waist, inviting you to sit on his lap. Running your hands up the sides of his neck, he closed his eyes as your fingers slipped into his hair. 

“Did you think any less of me because of what he said?” You asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. His eyes quickly cracked open, and he stared back at you as if offended that you’d ask such a thing of him. 

“No, I would never—”

“Then how could you believe I’d ever think less of you?” 

Silence hung between you, weighing you down on his lap as he stared back at you. Your words made him feel guilty— as though he had betrayed you by thinking so lowly of your devotion to him. His eyes drifted down your face, lips parting with an unspoken apology lingering between the minuscule space separating your mouth from his. 

“I… I have something for you.” 

His words were familiar, making your lips curl up at the memory of the day he’d confessed his feelings for you. Tilting your head, you squinted your eyes teasingly. 

“Is it another car?” You quipped, almost breaking your resolve as you watched his face fall, eyes drifting to the side in doubt before meeting yours once again.

“Do you want another car?”

God, how could you ever stay mad at him?

You clung onto Choso’s shoulders as he piggybacked you back to your dorm, purposefully jostling you here and there just to hear your harmonious giggles. Though you told him you could walk just fine on your own, he insisted on taking you himself— not that you fought him terribly hard on it either. In fact, you found it endearing how much he delighted in carrying you around, though you weren’t sure if it was due to his own enjoyment or the knowledge that you simply melted each time for it. 

“Close your eyes.” Choso scolded as he looked back at your curious gaze once he’d reached your door. Huffing in frustration, you allowed your eyes to shut, your head falling against his shoulder in defeat. You heard him rustiling with the spare key you’d given him— not that he had ever managed the tenacity to invite himself in without your prior invitation. Each time, you’d shake your head in amusement at the sound of his gentle raps against your door, and each time you’d remind him that he had his own key. 

The lingering smell of your festive candle flooded your nose as he stepped into the room, making you sigh contendedly. He crouched down until you felt your bum hit the soft comforter of your bed, and he carefully released you. 

“Don’t look yet.” He commanded clemently as you bounced back gently against your mattress. 

“Not peeking.” You assured with a smile, anticipation tickling up your toes and into your legs as he leaned down to press a swift kiss against your forehead. Upon feeling him pull away, your chest caved a bit in disappointment, your thoughts already having wandered far from whatever likely innocent surprise he had awaiting you. 

There was a subtle rustling on the other end of the room before a soft click had your curiosity reeling. 

“Um— okay, you can look now.” 

Squinting your eyes open, you were met with a myriad of gently twinkling lights. Blinking a few times to focus your vision on the sudden onslaught of brightness, an abrupt gasp escaped you at the sight of the lit up Christmas tree in the corner of your space. The ornament adorning it were a mess of contrasting colors, some too close together while there were various bare spots on the tree. Most of the decorations, you noted with a suppressed giggle, were focused on the upper half of the tree while it remained awkwardly vacant toward the bottom. It was a bit crooked, leaning marginally toward the right in its stand. It was far from the meticulously coordinated trees you had grown so accustomed to setting up, but it was perfect to you nonetheless. 

“Do you like it?” Choso questioned anxiously, smiling apprehensively at his first attempted Christmas tree. With his shadowy eyes fluttering from his handiwork to your awe-struck face, he tilted his head. “I can change it if you don’t like it.” 

“When did you do this, Cho?” You breathed out incredulously, feeling the salty dampness already gathering pathetically in your waterline. Sliding off the bed, you took a few, slow steps toward the tree. 

“Oh— I… I came this morning after you left for class.” He explained with downcast eyes. “I’m sorry for coming in without— hmph!”

His practically instinctual apologies were cut short as you tossed yourself onto his chest, arms wrapping snuggly around his neck. Without question, he was trailing his needy hands up your back to press you closer to him, dipping his nose into your nape with that love-sick smile of his.

“This is alot better than a car.” You attempted a joke through your onslaught of emotions, but the slight tremble in your voice was betraying you. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“You said Christmas gifts have to go under a tree.” Your boyfriend said obviously, and you followed his gaze to the choppily wrapped present sitting under said tree. Biting down your grin, you peered back up at him with a raised brow. 

“And would that be for me too, babe?” You teased, revelling in the sheepish smile that softened his intimidatingly sharp features as he nodded. “Well what do you want for Christmas, Cho?”

The sun was steadily setting outside your window, causing the soft glow of the string lights to warm your sparkling eyes as they stared up at him in question. The warmth in his flushed cheeks seemed to drain from his face, settling like stones at the pit of his stomach. Gulping at the lump in his throat, he shook his head softly at your question. 

“I don’t think I should answer that.” He sighed out honestly, lips twitching nervously under your questioning gaze. 

“What do you mean?”

The tilt of your head made your luscious hair sway just so, the ends brushing teasingly against his arm and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Had you focused enough, you would have felt the way his heart was beating out of his firm chest, making his breathing labor. 

Give them to me. Your words rang in the back of his muddled mind. That overwhelming sense of uncertainty and confusion flooded him once again, and though you had specifically told him you’d walk him through anything, this just seemed too daunting a confession. 

“It’s not—” His tongue darted out to lick his drying lips, and your wanton eyes followed the movement with a sharp precision. “I don’t think it’s… appropriate.”

Your brows rose marginally at his claim, the realization flooding you with the unconscious squeeze of his hands on your waist. A deep, calculated breath had your chest rising to brush against his, and you felt him shudder at the proximity. 

“It’s… just us here.” You offered quietly, hoping your silent invitation was enough for him to burst out of the anxious shell he’d been hiding behind all these months. He furrowed his brows in contemplation at your words, weighing whether the fruits of his vulnerability would outweigh the humiliation of possible rejection. Biding his time, he leaned down to press a longing kiss against your awaiting lips, the little remaining blood that was keeping his mind functioning properly rushing down south. 

“Just us?” He repeated breathlessly against your lips as he tried to make sense of the new territory he was daring to traverse. 

You nodded urgently, reaching up on your tiptoes to chase his panting mouth. Choso’s hands traveled down your waist to hook under your bum, hoisting you up around his hips as he carefully sunk to his knees. The soft whimpers escaping him were driving you into a nonsensical stupor despite his attempts to swallow them down. 

Shifting your hips forward, you urged him to fall back against his hands, his long fingers digging into the plush rug beneath him. You took advantage of the exposed expanse of his heaving chest, running your hands down his pecks until your fingers were dancing across the ripples of his abs as you bit at his lips. His response to your explorative touch was almost instantaneous, raising his hips in a desperate hope that your hands would slip just a few inches lower. 

All his not-so-subtle thrust did though was drive his painfully constricted length right against your inner thigh, the friction nearly causing his arms to buckle underneath of him. You had never mentioned it before— all the times his cock would press against you in such an embarrassingly obvious fashion. It never took much at all, and Choso wasn’t sure if your nonchalance at the feeling was because it was normal, or if you were simply saving face for him as you so endearingly did more often than not. 

Whichever it was though, he couldn’t take it anymore, not when you were dragging your hips against him as though you knew much more about his affliction than you dared to let on. The moan that left him almost teetered on the edge of a cry, and he brought a hand up to push against the subtle arch in your back, pressing you firmly against where he needed you the most. 

Your warm breath shuddered against his swollen lips as you moaned. The hands you had on his abdomen clutched desperately at his shirt, fighting for your composure because you could feel every inch of him straining right against your core, and his sweatpants were doing little to leave anything to the imagination. Pulling away from you in a frenzy, his eyes remained squeezed shut as his fingers dug into the fabric of your sweater. 

“Help me.” He pleaded, opening his eyes hesitantly to catch your reaction with burning cheeks. 

“He-Help you?” You repeated unassuredly, and he nodded quickly as your face flushed with the implications of his request. 

The hand on your back snaked around to tangle in with your own fingers, tentatively maneuvering your hand down his naval. His breath hitched as he guided you over his waistband, and he peered up at you timidly. A damp warmth spread along the lining of your panties at the raw vulnerability of his movements. When you made no indication of protest, his fingers danced up to grip gently at your wrist before you finally took the initiative to finish his clearly set out path, wrapping your hand around the prominent length poking through the outline of his bottoms. 

“Please.” Choso gasped out, bucking up into your warm hand. A blissed out hum reverberated in his chest, and he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours. “This is all I want. You’re all I want.”

Your thusfar gentle grip on his cock tightened ever so slightly at his tender words, and it was almost instinctual when you palmed him purposefully, squeezing carefully toward his tip in a manner that had him reduced to puddy beneath you. Fighting through your lustful haze, you nodded deliriously at his request, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Choso,” It was clear that you were trying so very hard to steady your voice, and your careful tone flooded into his consciousness. His darkly-lined eyes were half-lidded as they regarded you in question. “Have you… ever touched yourself?”

This made his gaze widen just a hair, the mark across his nose twitching in a tell-tale sign of his embarrassment. Though it seemed impossible, his face seemed to flush that much brighter as he opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to gather his composure before he answered you. A shaky huff escaped him as he cast his gaze to the side, and your free hand reached up to brush the hair from his face. 

“It’s okay, it’s normal. I just want to understand how much you know.” You explained gently. At this, his lashes shifted as he hesitantly looked back up at you before offering a nod so subtle you almost missed it. 

His mind was reeling with memories of all the mornings he’d spent with his hand shoved haphazardly down his pants, dreams of you having roused him from his sleep and lingering without any hope of solace. He thought about how dirty he’d felt when facing you afterwards, ignorant to the fact that he’d spilled himself onto his own mattress with fantasies that one day it’d be you. After so long of feeling isolated and depraved in these unfamiliar cravings, you were right here above him, your hand stroking up his cock in an all too familiar motion, telling him he was normal.

You nodded slowly at his confirmation, releasing your grip on him to trail your fingers along the sliver of skin exposed between where his shirt had ridden up and his waistband. His large frame trembled at the miniscule touch, hips rising in anticipation of your next move. The sudden shift dragged his length right against your pulsing clit, and you could barely disguise your breathy moan as you leaned into the friction. 

The wheels were turning in his head as he absorbed your reaction, his curious eyes locked onto where you two were connected. He tentatively raised a hand and settled it testingly just below your belly button before peering up at you.

“Can I… touch you too?” 

You hummed affirmatively, quickly maneuvering back as Choso leaned forward purposefully to lay you against the pillowy rug just beside the Christmas tree. He hovered on his knees between your spread legs, eyes drifting all over as if he didn’t know where to start. Your eyes fluttered shut as his hands began their wavering trek up the sides of your thighs. Feeling him pause at your waistband, you cracked your eyes open.

“You can take them off.” You offered, watching the way his eyes lit up. “—if you want.”

If he wanted. The man could have laughed in your face, because he’d be damned if he wanted anything more right now. 

Hooking his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, you assisted him by lifting your hips while he tugged them down. In his desperate pursuit, the laced hem of your panties were partially yanked down, leaving them bunched and just barely covering your intimates. He was leaning down, eyes locked on your center as though it might disappear if he blinked too long. His intense gaze made you flush, and you weren’t expecting it when he pushed the nearly translucent fabric to the side, the sudden gust of cool air against your wetness making you shiver.

Choso hummed, but you could swear it morphed into a soft groan as he decided that this view just wouldn’t do before sliding your panties off as well. The sight of your plush folds glistening under the twinkling Christmas lights was causing a sheen sweat to break out across his neck, and he pulled uncomfortably at the fabric of his shirt. 

“Take it off, Cho.” You pleaded, desperate to not be the only one so exposed. 

There was no need to tell him a second time, and his shirt was quickly joined with your discarded bottoms. Moved by the wanton way your eyes seemed to drink him in, he found himself crawling up over you to kiss you once again. Your hands wrapped greedily around his broad shoulders, nails working their way across his taut skin. He gasped against you as your hips rolled up in desperate search of friction, your wet warmth grazing against his covered thigh. 

“How? Show me how to touch you.” He rasped out, trembling hands already dancing down your naval as he propped himself up with his free arm. Much like he’d done just moments prior, you laced your finger through his, guiding them through your folds. 

“Here.” You gasped as his warm fingers grazed your clit. Choso’s face crumpled at the feeling, mouth falling open in a silent moan. You pressed down on his middle and ring finger with your own, encouraging the soft circular motions around your swollen bud. The back of your head hit the rug as you arched into his touch, slowly removing your guiding hand once the motion had grown familiar to him. 

“Am I doing it right?” His question came out practically a whisper as he watched you writhe against his hand. The strain in his pants was becoming painful at this point, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop the sensual circles that were sending you into such a whimpering frenzy, by his hand nonetheless. 

“Mhmm,” You hummed, one hand drifting up to grip at his bicep as the other trailed under your sweater, lifting it up in search of relief from the sudden sweltering heat Choso seemed to emanate. “You’re doing so good for me, Cho.” 

A groan worked its way up his throat at your praise, and his hips lurched forward in search of the pathetic friction your leg could provide him. His desperation was sending sparks up your thighs, making his slippery massaging feel that much more heavenly as you felt the familiar coil tightening in your stomach. 

Your jaw popped open, the hand that had found its way under your sweater clutching at your breast as if it could ground you. Choso’s eyes followed the movement hungrily. The swell of your breasts were just barely peeking out from the hem of your top, but it was enough to drive him into a frenzy if he couldn’t see what it was hiding immediately. 

“Take it off.” He commanded with a wavering resolve, his fingers increasing their pressure against you in anticipation. 

Had your teetering release not been solely in his hands at the moment, you would have teased him for his sudden burst of assertive confidence, but you thought you might begin kicking and screaming if anything deterred his rhythmic motions right now. Crossing your arms over your chest to grasp at the bottom of the offending sweater, you messily ripped it over your head before settling back against the rug that was now warm from your imprint. 

Your breasts bounced with your abrupt motions, and Choso felt the saliva gather embarrassingly on his tongue. It was far too clouded in your mind for you to notice though, your breaths beginning to come out in short pants as your peak drew nearer and nearer. 

“Please, please, please.” You babbled nonsensically, gripping at his forearm as your hips began grinding against his fingers. And, god, he wasn’t sure what you were begging for, but he knew he’d lay down his life right here and now if it meant he could deliver it to you on a silver dish, because he knew for certain that he’d never had the privilege of laying his eyes on anything nearly as debauchedly stunning as your naked body submitted so vulnerably beneath him. 

“Anything, I’ll give you anything.” He rationed through lustfully slurred words. Dipping down, he pressed drooling kisses against your heaving breasts, succumbing to a primal desire as he sunk his teeth into one of them.

“Cho—” Your choked plea pitched until it fell silent all together. 

Shifting his weight from his propped arm to his knees, he used his now free hand to press down against your hip as your thighs began trembling with the force of your climax. A warming flush spread from your scalp down your spine, sending tingles of relief down each of your nerves until you slumped back against the ground. 

“Ah— ah!” You stammered out as your boyfriend continued his purposeful ministrations against your now overly-sensitive bundle of nerves. Slamming your thighs shut against his wrist, you attempted to shimmy away from his relentless fingers. “Too much, Cho, it’s too much!”

His lips popped off your breast to pout wetly at you, the hand on your waist pulling you back down toward him as his fingers finally paused their assault on your center. Loosening the squeeze your thighs had trapped him in, he ran his hand up your stomach and chest before grasping the side of your neck. 

Upon closer inspection, you noticed the dampness that clung to his lashes and the way his brows were drawn softly together as he looked down at you hazily. 

“Choso? Are you—”

“I love you.”

Despite having been spread open before him just seconds ago while coming undone on his fingers, you somehow felt all the more exposed now. Your eyes fluttered a few times, and you drew your arms closer to your chest as though it would shield you from his raw gaze. A breathy, forced laugh escaped you as you shook your head softly at him. 

“You’re just turned on right now, Choso.” You tried to brush off his sudden confession, protecting your pride from falling victim to his naivety. He shook his head though, pulling you up until you sat perched upon his lap. 

“No, I love you.” He stated again, this time more matter of factly. “You’re the only one who treats me like.. I’m human and not a curse. You’re the only one who makes me feel like I am human.” His fingers wrapped hesitantly around your forearms as he gently coaxed your arms away from their defensive positions. “I love you. Don’t you love me?”

A soft tremor wobbled your bottom lip, but you willed yourself to pull it together. Allowing your protective walls to crumble down with your last bit of resolve, you pushed at his chest until his back hit the floor. Not once did he let his eyes drift from yours, even as your fingers dug into his waistband to tug down the remainder of his clothes. 

His swelled length sprang free from the fleece lined prison they had been straining against for painfully long, falling against his stomach with a barely noticeable smack. You thought he might shy away from you, flush that familiar shade of red you’d begun making synonymous with him in your mind, but it only felt so natural to him to have your lingering eyes on even the most intimate parts of him. 

“Of course I do.” You whispered, moving to straddle his slim, defined waist. A shudder racked your body at the feeling of his thick cock pressing against your stomach, his tip already smeared with evidence of his arousal. His mouth fell open, eyes widening at the sensation of your soaked folds running across his length. With his rustled hair splayed out on the floor surrounding his head, pupils creating black holes in his already midnight stained eyes, you concluded that Choso would never stop growing more beautiful. “I love you.” 

With a fluttering blink, a stray tear gathered at the corner of his eye, slipping down his temple as you nudged his tip past your slicked entrance. It had admittedly been a while since you were last intimate with someone, so you couldn’t help but wince subtly at the stretch of his girth forcing your walls open. For him though, he wouldn’t know the difference, because he was inside you, and your heat was enveloping him like flames licking up his every nerve ending.

 His hands hovered over your back as you slowly sank down onto him, unable to find the courage to disrupt you until he was finally buried in you to completion. With featherlight brushed against your spine, Choso ran his fingers down the expanse of the silken skin on your back until he met the curve of your ass. Curling his grasp around the plush of fat he’d learned he could utterly worship till the day his body became one with the earth, he held you in place for a moment. 

By the heaving of his chest and the tremble in his pitched moan, you knew he wouldn’t last very long, but you were satisfied enough to watch him come undone under the careful touch of someone who truly loved him— someone he truly loved. 

“Hah, I— I love you.” The man gasped again, teary eyes rolling back into his skull as you steadied your hands on his chest to lift your hips just barely off him before sliding back down. You bit at your bottom lip as his tip grazed against that plush of nerves that hadn’t been explored in so long. His lips were pulling down into his famous pout while he planted his heels into the ground to chase your rhythm with sloppy thrusts of his own. 

“I love you, Cho.” You reciprocated through a harmonious moan, watching his face scrunch up pitifully as the pace of his hips grew erratic. 

“Bite me—ah!” He whimpered softly, puppy dog eyes pleading up at you in the way he knew you could never refuse.

 Your lips curled up at his request, unaware of just how much your previous actions had lingered in his mind. Tracing up the firm planes of his chest, your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging at it to maneuver his head to the side before leaning down to sink your teeth into the first bite you had left on him, the mark just barely faded on his trap. 

Choso felt utterly consumed by you, his heart thumping wildly in his muffled ears. With the pressure of your fingers’ grasp against his roots combined with the subtle sting of your canines against the sensitive skin just below his neck, it took all but one last supple roll of your hips for it all to come crashing down on him. 

His eyes rolled back, a delirious grin tickling his lips at the sensation that he was all yours to use. The once gentle squeeze his fingers had on your bottom morphed into a frenzied digging, surely leaving crescent shaped marks in the wake of his chipping nails. It was meant to hold you there, ensure your hips stayed glued to his own as he spilled himself inside of you with bone grinding thrusts.  He could feel himself oozing out of you and onto the unsuspecting rug beneath him, but none of it mattered to him because he finally understood.

 It didn’t matter the spiteful words that would slice across his vulnerable soul, and it didn’t matter whether or not someone thought he was human enough for you. What he was experiencing now, enveloped in the must of sex-littered air that surrounded you was all the confirmation he’d ever need that he was irrevocably soul tied to you. The half-curse had seen the absolute pinnacle of humanity, and you were perched upon it with your drooping breasts and pleasure-ridden face— the one that made the space between your brows crease and your nails dig into whatever slab of muscle on him was closest to you. 

As he finally began tumbling down the hill of his climax, his hands drifted up to splay across your back, keeping you pressed against his sweat lined chest. The twinkling lights in his peripheral seemed to blur at the edges of his sight as they mixed with his lingering tears. You were working gentle kisses up his neck, dragging your wet lips across his sharp jaw until you finally circled back to his still swollen lips. He hummed against your kiss, deciding affirmatively that he’d stay awkwardly splayed out across the floor of your dorm all night long if it meant he could keep you this close. 

“I… I think I have to get you a better Christmas gift.” Choso concluded, revelling in the sensation of your warmth still enveloping his softening manhood. “Yours was way better.”

You laughed tiredly against his cheek, pulling back to peer down at him in question. 

“What did you get me?”

His cheeks flushed, and he looked over at the small gift that sat just a few feet away from you under the tree with a soft pout. 

“It’s… it’s a Britney Spears CD.”

this was supposed to come out before christmas, but alas the procrastination won this time, so sorry for the delay :(

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

taglist: @huuuhwhaat , @trishiepo0 , @makingtimemine

[jessiexflem]

– secret's out | jessie fleming x reader

content: fluff, Kelli Hubly's post-pilates Instagram story

word count: 1.1K

Black? Navy? What about brown? No, black, for sure. Your eyes flick back and forth between the workout sets in front of you. The black set was the most comfortable, although it was a little boring. You were loving the brown set you bought, but any core work caused the waistband on your leggings to scrunch down your stomach. Your navy leggings were a bit snug, but you haven’t worn them in–

“Y/N, hurry up! We’re going to be late!” Kelli shouts through your door. Black, it is, you decide. You quickly get dressed, knowing your best friend wasn’t afraid to barge into your room even if you were only half-ready.

“We literally get to every class thirty minutes before it starts,” you counter, throwing your hair into a ponytail as you walk into the living room. Kelli had started taking you and some of the other Thorns to her pilates classes, and she insisted on getting to the studio way too early. Something about having the best reformer to pick, or whatever. 

Kelli, ignoring your remark, nods at your sports bra, “It’s chilly outside.”

Not wanting to get nagged for taking any longer to get out of the door, you grab the first sweatshirt you see and slip it on, a grey crewneck sitting on the armrest of your couch. Adequately dressed, you follow Kelli outside to her car. “Is Jessie coming?” she asks as she pulls out of your driveway.

You smile at the mention of your girlfriend, but shake your head. “She has a meeting with her publicist this morning.”

“Stop, your little smile,” Kelli gushes, “You’re so cute. You’re welcome, by the way.” 

A few years older, Kelli took you in as her pseudo-little sister when you got drafted to Portland in 2021. She was your first friend on the team, having been partnered with you for warm-up drills that preseason. Jessie had been assigned as Kelli’s away trip roommate this year, and after learning about your growing crush on your new teammate, she made it her mission to set the two of you up. 

“You’re never going to let go of the whole wingwoman thing, are you?” you groan, despite being grateful for your friend’s help. Initially, you had been so nervous around Jessie that you could barely form proper sentences around her. Early conversations were followed by plenty of ranting and face-palming to Kelli and Sam. After some motivation from the two, and Kelli planting a couple seeds in Jessie’s head, you mustered up the courage to ask her out. Well, it went more like you telling her “I want to go on a date with you,” then immediately walking away without actually asking the question. Luckily, Jessie found your lack of game and inability to flirt endearing rather than embarrassing, and you’ve been dating since June, about six months now. 

“You’ll be thanking me at your wedding,” Kelli teases.

The forty-five minute class went by fairly quickly, focusing mostly on arms and core work. It was a decently challenging class, and you could already feel your abdominal muscles getting sore. Kelli waves you over to the mirrored wall as you put your sweatshirt and shoes back on. “Picture time, Y/N/N!”

You slide yourself in front of Morgan, in between Sam and Mallie, posing for Kelli’s post-class mirror selfie. It’s become a tradition of sorts, especially now that you’ve gotten a pretty consistent group going together. “We’re so cute!” Kelli beams, uploading the picture to her Instagram story.

Jessie had gotten out of her meeting early, so she headed to your apartment, pulling into your parking lot as you were stepping out of the car. “Hi, darling,” she greets, planting a quick kiss on your temple, “Hey, Kelli.”

“Cute sweatshirt,” Jessie grins, pointing at where the Canada Soccer crest laid on the right side of your chest.

Kelli’s eyes follow her finger and go wide. “Oh my god!”

“What? What’s up?” your girlfriend knits her eyebrows in confusion, “You okay?”

“My story!” Kelli gasps, realization hitting you at the same time.

You frantically unlock your phone to pull up Instagram. Tapping on Kelli’s story, Jessie looks over your shoulder. Front and center was you, an American, a USWNT player, wearing a Canada Soccer sweatshirt. A Canada Soccer sweatshirt that belonged to the now only Canadian on the Thorns, your very private girlfriend. 

“Oh my god, I am SO sorry, I’ll delete it!” Kelli says, her fingers flying across her screen. 

“Fuck, I wasn’t even thinking,” you turn toward Jessie, scared of how she’d react. You had agreed to keep your relationship off of social media for now, wanting to keep to yourselves. “I’m sorry, Jess.”

“Why are you sorry?” Jessie frowns, looking at you, her eyes soft.

“I should’ve thought about what I was wearing before we took the picture,” you shake your head and stare down at your feet, “I’m so dumb, we’ve talked about keeping us private, and I messed up.”

“Hey, hey,” Jessie lifts your chin up with her finger, “You aren’t dumb, sweetheart. We were bound to slip up eventually, but I promise it’s not a big deal.”

“You’re not mad?” you gnaw on the inside of your cheek. 

“Of course I’m not mad,” your girlfriend pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head, “I’m not mad at you, either, Kel.”

Kelli smiles meekly at the two of you, “I took my story down, but I fear everyone’s already seen it.” She holds her phone out toward you, her message requests filled with fans who had replied to her story. 

Y/N’s sweatshirt???

Are Y/N and Jessie dating?!

Is that Jessie’s sweatshirt?

Okay, traitor, I see you, Y/L/N.

Newest CanXNT call-up, Y/N Y/L/N?

“I think you’re about to break Instagram, or at least my DMs” Kelli chuckles. 

After a laugh and some catching up between Kelli and Jessie, you and your girlfriend head back into your apartment. Checking your phone, you see that your notifications are blowing up. Multiple notifications are flooding your most recent post, a photo dump from Christmas. Jessie comes up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and placing her chin on your shoulder.

“This person wants to know which one of our families we spent Christmas with,” you giggle.

“Well, are you going to answer?” Jessie jokes, a goofy grin on her face.

“I’m sorry, again, Jess,” you sigh, “I know we wanted to stay more private, but we weren’t able to do things on our own terms because of me.”

“Baby,” your girlfriend places a kiss on your cheek, “I promise you have nothing to be sorry for. Secret’s out, but so be it. If anything, this gives me an excuse to post the film of you that I’ve been wanting to share.”

“Making it onto an Instagram post? Big moves, Fleming,” you tease, “What’s next, a ring?”

“Don’t tempt me, love,” Jessie’s arms tighten around you as she peppers your face with kisses, “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now, show me these photos you’re posting.”

[enderlovez]

Big Secret

Spencer Reid x BAU Reader WORD COUNT: 2100+

Summary: You've tried to hard to keep your daughter a secret from Spencer after her father left, but what happens when this secret finally comes to light?

Content Warning: fear of abandonment, abandonment of pregnant woman, reader gets anxiety

A/N This was requested, and I'm not to sure how I did here. There'll probably be a bunch of mistakes because I'm really tired right now.

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

The first time Spencer asks if something's wrong, you almost laugh. Not because you find it funny in any sense of the world, but because there is something wrong, and you can't find it in yourself to tell him.

He's studying you with those piercing eyes, like he can read every thought you've ever had. His brow is furrowed in that way that makes him look younger than he is, and for a split second, you wonder if he really can hear your thoughts.

"You've been a little off lately," he says, the concerns in his voice too subtle for most people to notice, but you hear it. "Is... everything okay?"

You smile, forcing the curve of your lips to stay steady. "Everything's fine, Spence. Just a lot on my mind, you know?"

It's the truth. Sort of. Work is, as always, chaotic as hell. But there's something gnawing at you, something you can't make yourself say out loud.

Spencer doesn't push, but you know he's watching, waiting for you to say more on your own. That's the thing about him—he's patient, a quality you greatly admire. But when he wants something, he tends to get it.

You've had a few drinks together after work, spent quiet hours in coffee shops, talking about cases, about books, about life. You think you're starting to let yourself like him.

You think he might be starting to like you, too, even though the lines between friendship and... something more are still blurry, and you haven't yet figures out how to cross them without making a mess.

Then, of course, there is the little secret of your daughter—the very secret that keeps you up at night, wondering if you've already ruined whatever future could happen.

"Is everything really fine?" Spencer asks again, his voice a little softer now, like he's trying to coax the truth out of me without making it feel like an interrogation. It feels like one anyway.

You nod quickly, maybe a little too quickly. "Yeah. Really. Just... personal stuff."

He watches you for a beat longer, clearly not entirely convinced, but also not going to press for more. Spencer isn't like that. He respects boundaries. He respects you, in a way that makes your chest tighten every time he looks at you, like you're something he can lose if he doesn't handle you with enough care.

And maybe that's it. Maybe you're afraid of him seeing the part of you that isn't as easy to love, the part that you're still learning to love yourself.

Maybe that's why you've kept Isla a secret, but you've never mentioned her in passing conversations, or even when he asks about your life outside the job.

You want him to see you as someone who can go out for a drink after a case without having to worry about a three-year-old waiting for her mother to come home.

But that's not you. You've got Isla. You've got your little girl, and one day, Spencer's going to have to know, as terrifying as that thought is to you.

You're not ashamed of your daughter, you could never be ashamed of your little girl.

But the last man who found out about her—her own father—ran for the hills before she was even born. The thought of Spencer doing the same, of him walking away the second he finds out about Isla, has been eating away at you from the first time you went out together.

You tell yourself it's not about him being a bad guy, because he's not. Spencer's kind and thoughtful and he doesn't seem like the type of man to judge.

But it's not like you can help the fear, that he might not want a woman with a child, especially one as young as Isla. She's the center of your world, she will always come first, and you can't risk losing Spencer for the same reason you lost Isla's father.

"Are you sure?" Spencer's voice cuts through your thoughts, soft and insistent. He's still looking at you, like he's waiting for the truth to slip from your lips, like he knows it'll happen eventually. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it a little difficult to breathe. His words, so simple, so caring, somehow makes the weight on your shoulders heavier.

What would it feel like to tell him?

To let him in, to share this huge part of yourself with someone who could very well walk out of your life when he finds out?

It's easier to just nod and pretend everything's fine. It's easier to lie, to keep him at arms length, than risk him seeing who you really are—a mother, sure, but also someone who's terrified of being left again.

But Spencer doesn't deserve that. You know he doesn't deserve that, to keep wondering what's going on inside your head when he's done nothing but be there for you, day after day.

"I..." You hesitate, your breath catching in your chest. "There's something I should tell you, but it's really... it's going to complicate things."

Spencer doesn't say anything right away. He just watches you, and for a brief moment, the distance between you feels impossible to manage. You take a step forward, closing that space as best you can.

"You don't have to tell me if you're not ready to," he says finally, his voice so gentle that it almost breaks you. "You never have to feel obligated to tell me anything, I just want you to know I'm here if you wanna talk."

And right then, something shifts.

You're not entire sure what, but something deep inside wonders if maybe—just maybe—it might be time to tell him about the life you've tried to hard to keep hidden. About your precious little girl, and about her father who she's never known, and about the fears that keep you awake at night.

About the little girl who's waiting for you at home, her smile the only thing that keeps you going when everything else is so shaky.

"I have a daughter," you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "She's three. Her name's Isla."

He blinks, processing, before his expression softens. He doesn't say anything at first, just watches you with (gorgeous) eyes of his that feel almost like they can see right into your soul.

You hold your breath, waiting for his reaction. You're expecting him to step away from you, to give some polite excuse and walk out the door.

But instead, he surprises you. "I'd really like to meet her, if that's something you'd be okay with."

You blink at him, feeling your heart skip a beat. "You... you would? You want to meet Isla?"

Spencer smiles, just a little, but it's blindingly bright in your eyes. "Of course, I want to meet the little girl who obviously means so much to you."

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

You stand outside your apartment door, fingers nervously playing with the strap of your bag, suddenly feeling like you're about to do something you can't undo.

Which, you are, but that doesn't stop your heart from thumping uncomfortably, or your stomach from fluttering with anxiety.

Spencer's standing beside you, his eyes scanning the hallway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looks calm, maybe even a little curious, but you can tell he's waiting for you to make the first move, to invite him inside where everything will change.

It helps knowing that, if you happen to change your mind, he'll leave the second you ask him to.

The familiar hum of the building's old pipes is the only sound between you. You're about to let Spencer see Isla. You're about to let him into this part of your life you've kept so carefully hidden. And it is terrifying.

It's one thing to share a drink or talk about drinks. It's an entirely different thing to show another person the most vulnerable part of yourself.

The next door over swings open, and your neighbor, Maria, steps out. She looks up from her phone when she spots you, waving with the hand that's holding Isla's favorite stuffed bunny—she probably left it there at some point.

"Hey, just finished feeding her a few minutes ago," Maria says with a smile, but there's a hint of urgency in her voice as she checks her watch. "I was just 'boutta call you, gotta head out. You good here?"

You nod, forcing a smile as you take Isla's stuffed animal from Maria. "Yeah, thanks. She's been good today?"

"She's always good, she's a sweetheart," Maria says before turning on her heel, heading towards the stairs with quick steps. She glances back at you once to make sure you're alright before she's gone.

You watch her go, your breath catching in your throat as you unlock the door.

Every part of you is screaming that this isn't a good idea, that you're making a huge mistake by letting Spencer in, but you push those thoughts away as best you can, forcing yourself to step inside and gently pulling him by the sleeve of his jacket.

"Come on in," you say, trying to sound casual, but the words sound all wrong in your own ears, and they surely sound the same to Spencer.

Spencer hesitates for a moment before stepping through the doorway. The second his foot crosses the threshold, something in the air shifts, though neither of you can name what it is.

Isla's small shoes are lined up neatly by the door beside yours, and you can hear her humming softly from the living room. It's the sound of home.

Some of the anxiety fades away. It's more strange than anything to have Spencer here, where it's all real and in front of him.

You move towards the living room, trying to steady your breath. There, sitting on the floor with a coloring book spread out in front of her and a variety of markers and pencils at her side, is Isla.

Her hair's a bit messy, the way it always gets after a nap, but her wide eyes light up the moment she notices you.

"Mommy!" Isla calls, her little face breathing into a grin as she scrambles to her feet. She's barely two and a half feet tall, one of her little hands clutching her stuffed bunny tightly, the other wrapped around your legs.

You plop down on the sofa and ruffle her hair affectionately, a soft smile gracing your lips.

And then, she sees Spencer.

For a moment, Isla just stares at him, wide-eyed and quiet. Spencer's already crouched down, his hands resting gently on his knees, not moving, simply waiting for her to decide if she'll approach him or not.

You hold your breath, watching the moment unfold in real time—you've never had to share this part of your life with anyone. You've never had to share her with another person. And for a brief moment, you're more worried about how she'll react.

And then, like she's made up her mind, Isla takes a few tentative steps toward Spencer. She looks up at him, her face a picture of innocent curiosity, and before either of you can say anything, she reaches out, quickly offering him her stuffed bunny.

Oh, thank God.

Spencer looks at the bunny, then back at her, his expression softening. "Thank you," he says, his voice gentle, as it's as if a part of you clicks into place. Like he's not only accepted you, but now, he's accepting Isla, too.

He's accepting your baby, and you feel like you're going to cry.

She smiles up at him, and for a second, it feels like everything's going to be okay. He doesn't look at her like she's an obstacle, or like he doesn't know what to do.

He looks at her the way he always looks at you—with patience, and something else that you have a hard time naming.

Isla giggles, her small hand still holding the bunny, as then she shyly crawls into your lap, hiding her face against your chest.

Spencer chuckles, the sound low and warm, as he sits down beside you, observing the interaction. You rub your hand up and down Isla's back and press a firm kiss to the top of her head.

After another quiet moment, Isla crawls off you again, sitting back on the floor in front of her coloring book.

"So, uh, do you like coloring?" Spencer asks, his voice carefully light, as he looks over at Isla, who's now holding a crayon like it's the most important thing in the world.

She nods solemnly, but then grins up at him. "I like pink," she says, matter-of-factly, and then she goes back to her drawing.

Spencer's eyes twinkle with amusement. "Pink's a great color," he agrees, and you can't help but smile.

Maybe this isn't so bad after all.

[erensfeed]

winter & christmas moments | hcs

featuring. rafayel, sylus, zayne, xavier & caleb + reader

content. fluff + random things they’d do during xmas/winter as your bf

note. happy holidays !! pls i wrote this to cope with how i feel about them not being under my tree this year and most importantly.. under ME.

i don’t wanna talk ab it.

rafayel.

buys a big cozy house in paris just to spend the holidays together privately with you.

when it would be time to open up your gifts, he would watch your reactions to his christmas presents all through.

i’m talking studying your micro-expressions.

gets you this rare gorgeous heart shaped locket

“i also got a tiiny photo of us in there too. see? that way, when you open and close it… we’re kissing.”

gently takes it from your hand to show you, as he opens and closes it many many times with this excited look across his face.

eyes and plans to burn each and every gift to you by everyone else though. especially the ones by thomas.

and does.

because he felt your reaction to thomas’ gift was way better than his

when you’d eventually find out (again)…

“hey what don’t take his side, it’s his fault for getting you flammable gifts in the first place”

you’d make him promise to gift him back money in return and he would be all grumpy pouty about it but still does so

ends up re-buying you all the gifts he burnt, so it feels like they're all from him and were all his idea first.

anyway, you’d spend christmas indoors this year because your company is all he needs and by the fireplace, you would share your warmth with him in more ways than one..

sylus.

flies you out to your favorite snowy country, where you’d come to find out that he secretly bought a house near its snowy mountains just for you.

decorates your huge christmas tree with you and carries you (and uses his evol to), to help you place an angel on top of it.

“cute.”

“ikr omg” you’d say

he was talking about you

you’d think you would’ve at least seen/guessed all the unwrapped gifts he got you under the tree 

no

here comes more ON christmas day AND the day after. and the week. and the month

up until new years. and valentines. and—

would gift you all you talked ab like once. specially gets you stunning (garnet) jewelries and more in your favorite gemstones

you’d somehow convince him to wear this big floofy matching christmas polar bear onesie with you btw

tells you he though he ‘doesn’t do cheesy’

matches with you anyway

tucked diamond earrings in the pocket of your onesie just to see your reaction when you find it.

surprises you with a private winter concert performed by a band

you’d try to pull him to dance with you in the snow and he would purposely stay rooted in his spot at first, just to see you struggle to pull him with all your might before he complies with a chuckle.

yes you'd both be wearing your onesies as he dances sweetly with you.

knows how much you LOVE the holidays so he makes it worth remembering

yeah you take that as you will too

zayne.

wakes up earlier than you to quietly add more decorations to the entire apartment by himself while you’re asleep, so that you wake up to fairy lights and your favorite seasonal flower

“omg zayne, you… you did all this? for me?”

“yes.”

LMAOO SORRY ITS SO FUNNY FOR NO REASON WHENEVER I REMEMBER THAT HE

ok

says yes as he comes up to you to kiss your forehead

“merry christmas:)”

keeps a detailed list of your favorite winter activities to do in his pocket

and lots of candy canes & peppermint candies too when you go out together

would take you to a private snow resort and he’d try to teach you how to snowboard

looks even hotter on a snowboard

hot when on a snowboard

hot

when on

a snowboard

makes you hot chocolate drinks with smiley faces marshmallows as you watch your favorite christmas movies.

xavier.

admires you as you bake cookies until you ask him to try making a batch after watching you. 

he successfully does… until he adds an excessive amount of much sugar

gives you the exact same look he does when he loses a plushie LMFAOOO

“… i think i added a little too much.”

is a pro at building gingerbread houses

eats all the gingerbread men

“idk what happened.. i tried to save them but a christmas ghost ate them all before i could”

adorable thoughtful gift giver

stared jeremiah DOWN when he handed you his own gift and flowers

felt the need to tell you he gave jeremiah the idea to gift you those.

THAT BOY IS LYINGG

gives you a very festive night that same day (week)

whispers soft promises of forever while the snowflakes fall

possessive freaky xavier yum

#needthat

caleb.

wears a santa hat as he’s wrapping gifts for everyone you both know

“caleb what are you doing to that poor wrapping paper” you’d ask

“hey what i thought it looked good :(”

“it doesn’t”

ok it does if you squint hard enough

(if you close your eyes)

gets you matching gorgeous ugly christmas sweaters for when you go out together in it.

“we’re not wearing that”

you wear it.

helps the elderly you come across cross the street and wishes them merry christmas / happy holidays

purposefully steps under every mistletoe to get a kiss from you

“coome on pipsqueak ;) bring it in”

takes you ice skating

loves when you cling onto him so you don’t fall.

kisses all over your face to make you laugh after a deep sad/meaningful convo ab life after talking about nothing and everything under the stars while sharing a big scarf together

[moonriizing]

is it new year’s yet? | l.hs (18+)

Coming home for Christmas is your least favorite part of the year. But this time, you're up for a pleasant surprise when you get introduced to your cousin's friend from uni, Lee Heeseung.

Genre: holiday fling, smut Pairing: Lee Heeseung x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+) Notes: 9.7k words. Listening to is it new year's yet by Sabrina Carpenter. First post on this blog and first enha fic! Do let me know what you think about this. Thank you! Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally, nor do I claim they would ever behave in real life like they were portrayed in this story. ALSO, if you see a similar story from a different blog for a different idol (nct mark), that is me. xoxo, cal.

Holidays are for family reunions and coming home to bond with your loved ones. Bullshit. You’d rather be anywhere but here.

Here being your family home, bright and cheerful with Christmas decors and merry chatter from relatives and family friends. The sweet smell of cinnamon and gingerbread permeated the halls and the Christmas songs playing from the speakers your mother had strategically placed around the house were grating on your nerves, making you dizzier than the champagne you were drinking. 

Home. Familiar, warm, and somehow... suffocating.

You didn’t hate your family—far from it. You loved them with every fiber of your being. But that didn’t make the family tradition of hosting a horde of relatives and family friends for Christmas any less unbearable.

You should be used to it by now, considering how your mother had always made it her mission to be the ultimate hostess. What might have seemed magical when you were a kid now felt so unnecessary. As you grew older, it became harder to tolerate the endless stream of insufferable relatives and their even more insufferable commentary.

“Did you lose weight?” a distant aunt asked, her eyes raking over you like you were a mannequin in a store window. “You need to eat more. You’re so skinny.”

Just call me fat, why don’t you? you thought to yourself, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “I know. I did it on purpose,” you replied curtly before tossing back the last of your champagne. You didn’t wait for her reaction. You simply walked away, the bubbles fizzing in your throat as you searched for somewhere to hide.

You wove your way through the crowd, dodging overly familiar pats on the shoulder and sidelong glances that screamed When are you graduating? or Where’s your boyfriend?

The living room was packed with people swapping stories you’d heard a hundred times before. The scent of pine from the overdecorated tree blended with the warm spice of wine and sugary sweetness from the dessert table. The whole atmosphere was so perfect and festive that it made it a little hard to breathe. 

You needed air. Or another drink. Although, both are fine too.

In the kitchen, you poured yourself another glass of champagne and leaned against the counter, fishing out your phone to scroll mindlessly. A part of you considered texting Yeonjun—the guy you couldn’t stop thinking about. He was probably back in the city, having the time of his life at some glittering party—champagne in hand, gorgeous people all around, someone to kiss at midnight.

“Fuck this,” you muttered under your breath, stuffing your phone back in your pocket as you walked out of the kitchen.

Rounding the corner too fast, you slammed into someone—a steady grip caught your arm before the champagne could spill. 

“Easy there,” he said, his voice low and warm. You glanced up and found a stranger: messy hair, sharp jawline, and an easy smile that contrasted with the chaos around you. He looked your age, maybe a bit older.

“Thanks,” you muttered, eyeing him curiously. You could not remember seeing him anywhere before, so naturally, your immediate assumption was that he was a guest’s plus one. He could be a cousin’s boyfriend or something and you were just about to ask him that when your cousin Jake appeared beside him.

“Oooh, look who showed up!” Jake said, tilting his head with that playful glint you always found irritating.

You rolled your eyes. “I always show up.”

“Of course you do.” Jake leaned against the wall, arms crossed and grinning. “You hate it here, don’t you?”

You tilted your head at him, pretending to think. “What gave it away? My overflowing enthusiasm?”

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Jake teased. “A little family bonding with your favorite aunts would be nice. Aren’t you supposed to pack them a gift each?”

You drained the last of your champagne, letting the fizz linger as you looked at your cousin. “I’d rather die.”

Jake laughed, nudging Heeseung with his elbow. “This is my cousin. She’s the resident Grinch. But don’t worry; she’s fun when she wants to be.”

“I can hear you,” you gloated.

“I know,” he said, his grin widening. “So? Are you going to spend the whole night sipping champagne like a miserable bore?”

You gave him a flat look. “Oh my god. You can read minds?” you deadpanned.

“Well, perfect! You’re already dressed for the occasion,” he quipped, gesturing vaguely at your casual attire. He laughed but stopped when you didn’t even crack a smile. “Tell you what, Heeseung and I are heading out. You’re welcome to join us if you want to.”

“No.”

“Come on. It’s gonna be fun.” Before you could refuse again, Jake slung an arm around your shoulder and turned to Heeseung. “She’ll come. She just likes to play hard to get.”

“I really won’t,” you retorted, trying to shrug him off. “I don’t feel like tailing you two all night.”

“What else are you gonna do—sit in a corner and glare at people?”

You rolled your eyes, but the answer was obvious. Staying inside meant more questions, more relatives, more everything you were trying to avoid.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But if you drag me into something ridiculous—”

“You’ll have fun. Promise,” Jake interrupted and then turned to Heeseung. “She’s coming.”

Heeseung’s smile was easy, almost reassuring. “No pressure. It’ll be chill.”

You smirked. “You clearly don’t know Jake.”

With that, Jake led the way, practically bouncing out the door. You followed, stuffing your hands into your coat pockets as Heeseung fell into step beside you.

The winter air hit you like a slap, crisp and biting, slicing through the lingering scents of cinnamon and pine. It was a relief, though, clearing your head from the stifling warmth of the house. You walked down the quiet streets with Jake, Heeseung, and a few friends you used to hang out with growing up. They led the way, cracking jokes and tossing playful banter back and forth, while you stuck closer to the back with Heeseung.

“I can’t believe they’re still dating,” you muttered, eyeing a pair in front of you.

“Who? Them?” Heeseung asked, making you glance briefly at them.

You nodded. “They started dating when we were sophomores in high school. And they’re still together.”

Heeseung hummed. “They must really like each other then.”

You grimaced, eyeing the lovey-dovey couple in front. “I don’t know. They used to break up and make up. It was exhausting. Everyone thought they’d break up for good after graduation. But, well… here we are.”

“Guess they like running in circles,” Heeseung said lightly, shoving his hands in his pockets. He glanced sideways at you. “What about you? Do you think people like that can actually work out?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure if the question was casual or probing. “I think it depends on how much drama you can stomach. Personally, I’d rather avoid it altogether.”

Heeseung tilted his head thoughtfully. “No drama, huh? That’s a pretty high bar for relationships.”

You smirked, knowing how ironic it was for you to say this despite having a relationship drama. “Tell me about it,” you mumbled.

It was easy to figure out Heeseung’s intentions. The whole time, he didn’t try to hide it, nor did he try to send mixed signals. It was pretty clear with how close he was standing beside you, how his shoulder almost brushed yours. The way Heeseung’s eyes lingered on you when you spoke, the way he tilted his head when you laughed, like he was committing the sound to memory. How, even when you weren’t talking, he stayed within arm’s reach, his gaze flickering to you every now and then. How his focus remained on you.

And then there was the way he leaned in just slightly when he made a comment, his voice low, his words meant only for you.

He was attentive in a way that surprised you, even in the most casual moments. As you explained how you and your friends used to kill time in this sleepy town—late-night drives to the lookout point, sneaking snacks into the single-screen movie theater, racing bikes down the old dirt trail—Heeseung listened with genuine curiosity, his eyes lighting up with every story.

“So, let me get this straight,” he said when you were alone at the swings. You sat comfortably on the swing while he pushed you gently. “Not only did you race down a hill that sounds like a death trap, but you’re telling me you were the reigning champion?”

You tilted your head, feigning offense. “Why do you sound so skeptical?”

“Oh, I believe you,” he said, his smirk widening. “I’m just wondering how many people you bribed to throw the race.”

You gasped playfully. “Excuse me, I won fair and square.”

“Sure you did.” His laughter was low, warm, the kind that made you feel comfortable with him.

You smirked. “Why else would I bring it up? Go ask them.”

He chuckled, nodding his head. “You seem really confident… I believe you.”

You were quiet for a while, with only the creaking sound of swing filling the silence. The tip of your shoes dragged lightly with every swing, carving the damp ground underneath.

Heeseung asked after the silence stretched out. “So, is that all you did for fun around here?”

“Pretty much,” you said with a shrug. “Lame, huh?”

“Not at all. It’s simple but it has its charm,” he said softly, pausing as he held the swing tight to stop it. “It says a lot about you though.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him with a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “Are you calling me charming?”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice light but his gaze unwavering. “What would you do if I was?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Depends. Is this small-town charm talking, or do you actually mean it?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Trust me, I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Well, aren’t you a smooth talker?” you teased, though your voice had softened, your usual sharpness dulled by the way Heeseung was looking at you.

He grinned, leaning just a little closer, his voice dropping lower. “Only with the right company.”

You held his gaze. “Right company, huh?” you murmured, your heart thudding as you tilted your head, meeting his eyes.

He smiled faintly, his voice dipping lower. “You know I mean it.”

His gaze lingered on you, his head tilting ever so slightly as he leaned closer. You barely noticed the chill in the air anymore, not when the space between you seemed to shrink. His hand brushed the chain of the swing, his fingers close enough to graze yours. His breath mixed with yours, the faint scent of his cologne and the crisp night air filling the gap. Slowly, as if testing the waters, he leaned in, his focus entirely on you.

Your fingers twitched on the swing’s chain, almost brushing his. His lips hovered near yours now, and for a moment, everything else faded away—

“Yo, there you are!” Jake’s voice broke through the stillness, loud and completely unbothered.

You flinched, the spell breaking as you turned toward the sound of footsteps crunching against the gravel. Jake and the others were strolling toward you, their laughter cutting through the quiet.

Heeseung straightened quickly, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, that’s too bad,” he murmured, his voice low enough just for you. “I thought we’d finally lost them.”

A quiet laugh escaped you, even as warmth lingered on your cheeks. “I didn’t know we were doing that.”

He shrugged, a glint of mischief in his eyes, so you swatted his chest lightly, the playfulness easing the tension.

Jake raised an eyebrow as he approached, his gaze flicking between you and Heeseung. “What, were you two having a moment or something?”

“Not even close,” you shot back, sharper than you intended. “What do you want?”

“Lori was asking if your mom baked a fruitcake this year,” he said, pointing toward your friend Lori.

You glanced at her, catching her expectant grin. “You know what,” you said, rising to your feet, “she did. You should grab some before it’s gone.”

Lori and the others cheered. Though your mom’s fruitcake wasn’t your favorite—too sweet for your taste—you still felt a swell of pride knowing it was the highlight of every Christmas. It was this pride that made you wanna bring them over, so with Jake leading your group, you headed back to your house, noisy and in high spirits.

Like opposite sides of magnets, you and Heeseung found each other again and fell behind the rest of the group. He leaned into your ear as he asked, “Are we gonna pick up where we left off?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Depends on how charming you are for the rest of the night.”

He held your gaze, his smile softening. “Challenge accepted.”

You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you let the confidence he’d drawn out of you take hold. “You’ve been following me all night. You like me, don’t you?”

Heeseung didn’t even bother denying it. His smile widened, his voice steady as he replied, “Can you blame me?”

You chuckled. “Don’t fall for me, though. I’d hate to break your heart once the holidays are over,” you told him, grinning playfully before walking faster to rejoin your friends.

Heeseung stayed back for a moment, watching you. Too late, he thought. You really should’ve warned him sooner.

“If this was a uni party, someone would’ve spiked the eggnog already,” you mumbled, your eyes scanning the room filled with family, friends, and all the usual holiday chaos.

Heeseung’s voice was low beside you, cutting through the noise. “Really?”

You nodded, not looking at him. “Oh yeah. If you want to survive the night here, you have to make your own fun.” You shot him a side glance, half-smiling. “Otherwise, it’s just... this.”

For a brief moment, Heeseung said nothing, but you could feel him shifting beside you. Then, in a voice laced with amusement and mischief, he said, “I’ll be right back.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Alarmed, you grabbed his arm and yanked him back before he could get too far. “No, Heeseung!”

He turned toward you, his grin dangerous. “What?”

“No, seriously,” you whispered urgently, trying to keep your voice down. You scanned the room quickly, then pointed across it with dramatic flair. “Old people.”

Heeseung’s brow furrowed, clearly confused, so you leaned in just a little closer. “That’s my great-uncle,” you said, nodding toward an elderly man in a faded cardigan who was snoozing away in the rocking chair. “He’s 84 and can’t have alcohol. But he’s obsessed with eggnog. Let’s not ruin this for him.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, fighting back a laugh. “That’s not so Grinch of you.”

“I make exceptions for people I like,” you said, your voice dropping to a playful whisper.

His smile deepened, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Is that so?” he asked, teasing but warm. “What exceptions have you made for me so far?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop your smile from widening. “I’m not answering that.”

“So there is something, then?”  He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek, as if the answer were hidden in your response.

“I’m not answering that either.” You chuckled, taking a step back with an exaggerated sigh. You started heading toward the patio, but Heeseung’s long strides quickly caught up, his footsteps just behind you.

The cold night air hit your skin as you stepped onto the patio, but the firepit’s warmth immediately enveloped you. Your friends and cousins gathered around, roasting marshmallows and swapping stories. You sat on the same bench as Heeseung, his presence adding warmth and comfort. You joined the conversations with the others, while occasionally having your own little talks with Heeseung.

The more you talked, the closer he leaned toward you, his eyes never quite leaving your face as if he were soaking in everything you said. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the heat of both the fire and his proximity. 

As the night wore on, the laughter around the firepit thinned out, your companions dispersing one by one to retire for the night. Soon, it was just you, Heeseung, and Jake—both guys occupied with something on Jake’s phone. Left to your own devices, you scrolled aimlessly through social media, eventually landing on a friend’s Instagram story.

Yeonjun appeared in the group photo, looking happy and festive at what seemed like a rowdy party. You checked your inbox, hoping for a message, but he hadn’t even read the last one you’d sent. A sigh slipped from your lips louder than you intended, and Heeseung glanced up at you.

“You okay?” he asked quietly as you quickly turned your screen off. His cheeks were flushed, likely from the cold and the alcohol, and his eyes looked a little sleepy from the late hour. The sight of him brought a comforting warmth to your chest.

“I’m fine,” you mouthed, holding his hand that rested on your arm.

Suddenly, Jake shot up from his seat with a sharp exhale. “Let’s get out of here. I’m about to lose it with this Mariah Carey song they’ve got on repeat.”

“You go ahead. I’m gonna stick around for a bit,” Heeseung replied, squeezing your arm before rubbing his thumb against your jacket.

Jake noticed your joined hands and narrowed his eyes at the two of you. “You guys are getting cozy.”

“Are we?” you teased, glancing at Heeseung and shrugging. You leaned against his chest playfully and added, “I hardly noticed.”

Heeseung played along, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. Jake shook his head, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “If you’re gonna have sex, don’t do it in our room.”

The comment made you roll your eyes. “This is my house, Jake. We can do it in my bedroom!”

Jake didn’t respond, only raised a middle finger at you two before walking away. You laughed, watching him disappear into the house. But beside you, Heeseung had stopped grinning, his expression shifting to something more serious, his eyes wide with shock.

You raised an eyebrow. “What? I was just joking.”

Heeseung blinked a few times, looking away as he cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know.” His voice was a little more strained, and you noticed a blush creeping up his neck.

You couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Did you think I was serious?” you asked, leaning in just a little closer.

Heeseung turned his head slightly, his eyes flickering toward you for a brief moment before he fixed his gaze on the fire. “Not at all,” he replied quickly.

“Oh? So you’re not interested?” you pressed, enjoying the sight of him flustered.

“I didn’t say that,” he responded too eagerly, too quickly.

The sudden shift in his tone caught you off guard. You hesitated for a moment, watching him carefully before you let out a soft laugh. “Okay,” you said, wanting to ease the tension. “I was just messing with you. Relax.”

Heeseung didn’t answer immediately, but you saw his posture stiffen, his hand slipping from your shoulder as he cleared his throat again. The air between you two felt thicker now, charged with something neither of you wanted to bring up.

You let the silence hang there for a few moments before turning to look at the house, your smile a little softer. “Anyway,” you muttered, standing up, “let’s get back inside.”

Heeseung didn’t say anything as he followed you, the air between you was thick with tension, but neither of you said much as you both walked toward the staircase leading up to the upper floors. It was past midnight. You had intended to hang out with him a bit more, but the night suddenly started to catch up with you after that awkward exchange with Heeseung.

It shouldn’t be a surprise. He clearly wanted you, at least based on how he’d been flirting with you all night and how you almost kissed at the playground earlier. And to be honest, you were entertaining the idea of a holiday fling with Heeseung. He was very attractive and he’d done nothing to raise any red flags so far. So why did the sudden sexual tension seem to make things awkward between you?

As you reached the hallway, you turned to him with a small smile. “Well, guess it’s time for me to call it a night,” you said, your voice a little quieter than usual.

Heeseung nodded, but there was something in his expression that suggested he wasn’t ready to say goodnight just yet. “Yeah… sure,” he replied, his eyes focused on you.

You both stopped in front of your door and there was a silence that stretched longer than either of you anticipated. When you reached for the doorknob, Heeseung didn’t say anything, though you could see the dejected look in his eyes that he failed to mask with the smile he was wearing.

“See you in the morning?” you suggested, offering him something to look forward to despite the seemingly disappointing end to the night. “That is, if you’re still here by then,” you added, a low key attempt at asking what his plans were for tomorrow.

Heeseung smiled warmly. “I might have volunteered to be tomorrow’s Santa Claus, so I think I’d still be here.”

You chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Are you serious?”

“No,” he chimed with a playful grin, reaching for your hand and brushing his fingers lightly across your skin.

The touch was so small, yet it felt electric. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. His eyes locked with yours, holding a silent intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. You found yourself leaning in, just a little bit closer, your breath shallow.

“Heeseung, I—” you began, only to cut yourself off because you didn’t really know what you were gonna say. Or if you should even say anything at all.

But then you both understood without words. Your nerves seemed to settle, and without another sound, Heeseung leaned in, his lips pressing gently against yours.

It was soft, almost questioning at first, but the moment it happened, everything else seemed to fade into the background. The lingering discomfort from the teasing, the unsaid words—everything disappeared. For that one exhilarating moment, there was nothing but the warmth of him against you.

When the kiss broke, you both stood there, breathless, eyes wide. You let out a nervous laugh, still trying to gather your thoughts. “That didn’t just happen,” you chuckled.

Heeseung’s gaze softened, his lips curling up into a small, almost sheepish smile. “Was that too fast?” he questioned playfully.

You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head. “Not really, but… let’s just pretend it didn’t happen,” you said, trying to play it cool, but your heart was still racing.

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. Good idea.”

You stood there for a whole minute, staring at each other in the quiet, with only the faint sound of Christmas carol from the living room filling the silence. “Good idea,” you echoed quietly, but your eyes were fixed on his lips, plump and inviting.

Before you knew it, you were kissing again, this time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, the kind that made your knees a little weak. His hands settled gently on your waist, making you hyper aware of the way your bodies are pressed against each other. For a moment, you let yourself forget about everything else—the holiday chaos, your family, Yeonjun.

When he pulled back slightly, his gaze was intense, searching yours. “You good?” he rasped, his breath warm against your face.

“Totally,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back in for another kiss.

You kicked your bedroom door open, tugging him inside without breaking the kiss. In no time, you found your back pressed against the wall right by the door, Heeseung’s lips ravaging yours with a kiss that made you go feral.

When his hand slipped under your shirt, you held it tightly, debating whether to let him go there—caught between wanting to retreat and wanting to give in. As your hesitation stretched, Heeseung took it as his cue to pull away—not completely, just enough to press his forehead against yours and cup your cheeks

“Is that a ‘no’?” he whispered, his voice laced with playful warmth.

You chuckled, still a little drunk on his lips—on him. “Are you hurt?” you asked playfully, though your concern was sincere. “Your ego, I mean.”

“Hmm, not really,” he replied, shivering under your touch when your hand ran from his arm to his neck. “I’m more hurt somewhere else.”

That made you laugh and hit his chest playfully. Heeseung caught your hand, keeping it on his chest as he closed his eyes—forehead still pressed against, his breathing steady but deep, his lips lifted slightly in a faint smile.

You planted a soft kiss on his lips and took a small step back. “Aren’t you leaving?”

Heeseung clutched his chest, feigning a pained look. “Ouch. I’m getting kicked out too? This is torture.”

The sound of Christmas carols from the living room filtered through the door, a reminder of the world just outside, but neither of you seemed in a rush to leave. Heeseung looked around your dimly lit bedroom, studying the space as if familiarizing himself.

“I don’t want to push my luck,” he said, his voice low as he glanced back at you. “But this is much cozier than the guest room I’m sharing with Jake.”

You smirked, catching the insinuation in his statement. “It’s a no, Heeseung.”

Heeseung winced visibly. “Is that final?” he asked, making you chuckle.

“We only just met.”

He shrugged, nodding thoughtfully. “That’s fair. It was worth a shot, though.”

You had to admit, you considered it. Just the idea of being in Heeseung’s arms stirred something inside you. A feeling that, if you were being honest, you weren’t expecting to feel at all when you boarded the train home for the holidays. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the loneliness of the night creeping in, but right now, you felt more alive than you had in weeks.

Heeseung tilted your chin, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips once more. “Good night?”

“Good night,” you chimed, holding his hand against your cheek.

But he made no move to leave, he just stood there, staring at you as if it would physically pain him to look away. Then he leaned in for another kiss, and you were more than happy to oblige.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he teased, forehead pressing against yours.

“You’re one to talk,” you retorted, rolling your eyes playfully, though your smile was soft, just a little more sincere now.

The next morning, breakfast unfolded in a much quieter manner than last night’s festivities with everyone still half-asleep and quietly eating. Across the table, Heeseung seemed perfectly at ease, though you couldn’t ignore the occasional glance he sent your way—or how your gaze sometimes lingered on him longer than it should.

Your mom’s attention was on him, which was understandable since he was the only new face around the dining table. Your mom said she didn’t get the chance to properly get to know him because yesterday was hectic. Heeseung didn’t seem to mind, he was polite and spoke with courteousness and a charming demeanor. 

“So, Heeseung,” your mom began to add as she reached for another piece of toast, her tone light but curious. “How do you know Jake?”

You smirked, glancing at your cousin. “Yeah. You seem too cool to be hanging out with this dork.”

Heeseung glanced at Jake, who was already sighing as if he knew what story Heeseung was going to tell. “We met during our first year,” Heeseung said, chuckling. “It was a… uh. Freshman prank.”

“Freshman prank?” your dad asked.

Heeseung hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a long story, but basically we fell victim to a freshman prank and ended up getting scolded by the college dean.”

“Oh my god! Jake said he was scolded by the dean for dancing around the school grounds in a bear costume. Was that it?” one of your cousins asked.

“Yeah,” Heeseung replied, his laugh a little sheepish. “It was actually the school mascot suit. They asked us to wear them at a freshman event for extra credit. Then we found out in the end that it was a faculty briefing, not a freshman event.”

Jake exhaled, exasperated by the memory. “ We even danced without knowing our mascot heads were switched. I was a lion with a bear head.”

Your mom laughed again, shaking her head. “Well, that’s one way to make a friend.”

“And now you’re stuck with him,” you teased, looking at Heeseung.

“Pretty much,” Heeseung agreed, his gaze flicking to you with a warm smile. “But hey, life’s never boring with Jake around.”

You smirked. “You’re too kind. Just say he’s an idiot. He doesn’t mind.”

Jake waved his fork in the air, scoffing at you. “Joke’s on you. Heeseung would never say that about me.”

Heeseung shrugged. “Well, he’s kind of… an idiot.”

Jake gasped. “What have you done to my friend?” he accused dramatically, pointing a finger at you.

The conversation soon shifted from playful banter to lighter topics as the meal wound down. You mostly stayed quiet, stealing occasional glances at Heeseung, who somehow managed to charm your family without even trying. When breakfast ended, your mom handed you a towel. “You’re on dish duty today,” she said with a kind smile.

Heeseung stood without hesitation. “I’ll help.”

“Very gallant of you,” your mom quipped, her tone amused as she watched you carry the dishes away.

When your family was out of earshot, Heeseung leaned in close, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Figured I’d earn some points.”

You chuckled, shaking your head but not protesting as he followed you into the kitchen. He rolled up his sleeves with ease, taking the stack of plates from your hands and grinning like this was second nature to him. The two of you fell into a quiet rhythm at the sink, you rinsing while he dried.

“So,” he began after a moment, breaking the silence with his usual casual tone. “Your mom’s cool. Super curious, though.”

You snorted. “That’s her way of being welcoming. Consider yourself officially part of the family.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Guess that means I have to stick around,” he added, bumping his elbow against your arm.

You rolled your eyes, recognizing the playful hint. “Only as Jake’s friend, though.”

“What do you know? She might upgrade me to Son-in-Law once she sees my dish-drying technique,” he quipped, his shoulder brushing yours as he reached for a dish and started wiping with exaggerated flourishes.

“Son-in-Law is a pretty big leap from Nephew’s College Friend.”

He grinned with mock confidence. “I’m Lee Heeseung. Anything’s possible.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, Golden Boy.”

“You’ve got a pretty lively family,” Heeseung said after a pause, his tone softening. “They remind me of mine.”

“Oh, yeah?” You glanced at him, curious. “Big Christmas crowd?”

“Not as big as yours, but yeah. We do the whole chaos thing. My mom insists on playing charades after dinner, even though none of us can act to save our lives.”

You chuckled at the image, your hand brushing his as you passed him a plate. The touch lingered for half a second too long, enough to make your heart skip a beat. When you looked at him, Heeseung was already watching you, his voice dropping to something quieter as he leaned closer to whisper in your ear.

“By the way, you look lovely this morning.”

The compliment hit harder than it should’ve, leaving you momentarily flustered. You managed to play it off with a teasing smile. “Trying to earn more points?”

“Maybe,” he replied with a grin, leaning just a fraction closer.

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Just dry the dishes.”

Heeseung grinned, leaning slightly closer. “Maybe.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Just dry the dishes.”

His soft laughter warmed the kitchen, the hum of last night’s lingering tension sparking again between you. By the time you handed him the final dish, there were no more “accidental” brushes—Heeseung took your hand outright, pulling you gently forward to steal a quick, mischievous kiss.

You gasped, heat rushing to your face as you slapped his arm. “You sneaky little—”

Before you could finish, he leaned in again, catching you in another kiss, quick and light, as if testing the waters. Then he turned back to the towel like nothing had happened, leaving you standing there, your thoughts a flustered jumble.

Exhaling a mock exasperated sigh, you gave up on playing it cool. Closing the small gap between you, you slipped your arms around his waist, letting your cheek rest briefly against his shoulder as he put the last plate away.

“This is nice,” he murmured, discarding the towel and turning to face you. His arms wrapped around you naturally, pulling you close. “Makes us look like boyfriend and girlfriend, doesn’t it?”

You scoffed, stepping back slightly. “Don’t push your luck.”

But when you turned to leave, Heeseung caught your wrist, pulling you back into a tight embrace. “Where are you going? Stay.”

You hesitated for half a second, then melted into his hold, your hands settling lightly on his waist. “What are we even doing?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, resting his chin lightly against your hair. “But it’s nice.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It kinda is.”

The moment was broken by the faint sound of singing from the direction of the main door. Heeseung’s brows rose as he glanced toward the sound. “Carolers?”

“Yeah,” you replied, pulling away and jogging toward the door. Outside, a small group of children and teenagers stood assembled like a festive choir, their voices harmonizing in cheerful Christmas melodies. Your family was already out there, listening with smiles on their faces.

Jake noticed you standing beside him and leaned in. “Tell me why I can’t punch the carolers.”

You snorted. “Because it’s not their fault you didn’t pass the auditions.”

“Right,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Wait, what? You auditioned for this?” Heeseung asked, his expression bewildered.

Jake smirked, unbothered by the attention. “I’m a man of many talents, my friend. They fumbled real bad when they decided to reject me.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, exasperated. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love me for it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. Christmas morning chaos, as always.

The rest of the day unfolded in a series of warm, chaotic moments. After the carolers left, your family gathered in the living room, eager to keep the festive spirit alive.

Someone—probably Jake—suggested a game of charades. It started out as a reluctant group activity but quickly spiraled into uncontrollable laughter as your aunt wildly flailed her arms trying to mimic Jaws, and your dad confused everyone by acting out Titanic with interpretive dance.

Heeseung fit right in, his easy humor making him an absolute hit. He was surprisingly good at charades, though you suspected he was just adept at playing to the crowd. When it was your turn to act, he leaned over to Jake and whispered something that had both of them laughing under their breath—probably a jab at your complete lack of acting skills. You shot them a mock glare, but it only made Heeseung grin wider.

When the game wound down, your mom announced it was time for gifts. You handed your parents the small, thoughtful presents you’d prepared—a new mug for your dad’s coffee addiction, and a scarf you’d crocheted for your mom.

“You shouldn’t have,” your mom said with a soft smile, wrapping the scarf around her neck immediately.

Others exchanged gifts, too, and to your surprise, a few came your way: a box of chocolates from your aunt, fuzzy socks from Jake, and a cute notebook from a younger cousin. You hadn’t expected anything from anyone other than your parents, so it warmed you more than you cared to admit.

Heeseung, meanwhile, didn’t seem fazed by the lack of a gift exchange between the two of you. Instead, as the wrapping paper chaos settled, he nudged your arm.

“Guess we forgot to plan this part, huh?” he said, his tone light but his eyes searching yours.

“Yeah, well,” you replied, shrugging, “we didn’t exactly have time for shopping.”

Heeseung leaned back against the couch, thoughtful. Then his face lit up with an idea. “How about we exchange something else?”

“Like what?” you asked, curious.

He reached for his phone, pulling up a playlist. “Music,” he said simply. “I’ll share a song I love, and you do the same. It’s like a tiny window into who we are.”

You hesitated for a moment but nodded. “Okay. You first.”

He scrolled through his playlist before handing you one of his airpods. The track was a mellow, soulful tune with heartfelt lyrics, and as it played, you found yourself surprised at how much it suited him—genuine, unpretentious, and quietly warm.

“I like it,” you admitted, handing the phone back.

“Your turn,” he said, leaning closer as if to make sure he wouldn’t miss a beat.

You picked something a little more upbeat but with a nostalgic edge. The second it started, Heeseung grinned, nodding along to the rhythm. “Good choice. I can see why you like it.”

For the rest of the evening, the two of you exchanged little pieces of yourselves—stories, favorite movies, quirks. It wasn’t the traditional gift exchange, but it felt like something better, something that fit the budding connection between you.

Later, as the family settled down for a Christmas movie, Heeseung ended up beside you on the couch. The warmth of him sitting close felt comforting, and somewhere in the middle of Love Actually, his hand found yours under the blanket draped over your laps. It wasn’t showy or obvious; no one else noticed.

As the movie played on, you felt your phone buzzing on your lap. You picked it up in a heartbeat, a force of habit that made you feel a little pathetic. Letting out a sigh, you tucked your phone away, refusing to check what the notification was about—or who it was from.

Heeseung leaned closer, his voice low but curious. “Who is he?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“The guy,” he clarified. “The one who keeps making you wait for him.”

You chuckled nervously. “There is no guy.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. You sighed. “Fine. There is—was, actually. I think I’m done waiting for him.”

“Why is that?”

You tilted your head slightly, taking a very good look at the beautiful man before you. A smile crept across your lips. Why, he asked? It was because you met him—Lee Heeseung, who wanted you and made it clear. Heeseung, who gave you signals and acted on them. Heeseung, who not only spoke honestly about how much he liked you but also went out of his way to show it. Heeseung, who gave you more in two days than Yeonjun had in three months.

“You staring at me like that is making me wanna kiss you right now,” Heeseung said softly, cutting through your reverie.

You grinned. “Do it then.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His lips brushed yours, warm and soft, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

Across from you, Jake grimaced, letting out an exaggerated groan. “Guys. Just get a room already.”

You pulled back, laughing, your cheeks warm with embarrassment. Heeseung didn’t seem fazed, his smirk playful as he leaned closer, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Ignore him,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You giggled, the giddiness bubbling up despite yourself. “He’s right, though,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “We should probably get a room.”

Heeseung’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Okay,” he said, as if it was the easiest decision in the world. “I’d never say no to that.”

Jake let out another theatrical groan from across the room, muttering something about needing bleach for his eyes. But neither of you paid him any attention as you shared a knowing glance, the warmth between you now impossible to ignore.

Laughter spilled from your lips as you and Heeseung slipped out of the living room to the quiet halls upstairs. The muffled sounds of the movie still playing below faded with every step. Heeseung stayed close, his hand brushing yours until he tugged you gently back, spinning you to face him.

“Come here,” he murmured, stealing another kiss, his lips warm against yours.

You giggled, pulling away just enough to tease him. “Have some restraint, will you?”

He grinned, leaning in to whisper in your ear, his voice low and mischievous. “That’s too much to ask of me, you know?”

Your laughter filled the empty corridor as you took a step back, only for Heeseung to chase after you. His hands found your waist, pulling you close before kissing you again, slower this time, his lips lingering like he had all the time in the world.

By the time you reached your bedroom door, your cheeks ached from smiling, and your heart was racing. You kissed him there, leaning against the doorframe, your fingers tangling in his hair as his hands rested firmly on your hips. The kiss deepened, heat building between you as your breath hitched.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made you both freeze. You pulled apart to see your old uncle shuffling past, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing as he continued down the hall.

Heeseung pressed his forehead against yours, biting back a laugh. “Think he’ll tell your mom?”

You snorted, pushing him lightly. “Does it matter? Bet everyone knows there’s something between us by now.”

“Touche.”

With a shared grin, you twisted the doorknob and pulled him inside. The door clicked shut behind you as you stumbled into the room, your lips finding his again in the quiet.

With a shared grin, you twisted the doorknob and pulled him inside. The door clicked shut behind you as you stumbled into the room, your lips finding his again in the quiet.

His kiss was unhurried, deliberate—gentle hands cradling your face as his lips moved against yours. When he pulled back, his eyes met yours, the intensity of his gaze making your breath hitch. His touch trailed to your chin, guiding your head slightly as his lips pressed softly along your jaw.

You tilted your head instinctively, granting him access, and he didn’t waste the opportunity. His kisses wandered down to your neck—soft brushes, playful nips, and teasingly light touches. Each one sent sparks skittering across your skin, your pulse quickening under his attention.

When his tongue flicked against the sensitive spot beneath your ear, you giggled, stepping back slightly. The sound was as much a reaction to the ticklish sensation as it was to the heat pooling low in your belly.

“Sorry,” he said, his warm laugh brushing against your skin. “I thought you’d like it.”

“Oh, I like it,” you admitted, brushing your hair aside to bare your neck again. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

His fingers lightly traced the column of your neck. “Why not?”

“I’m… ticklish,” you said shyly, rolling your eyes to downplay your embarrassment.

Heeseung chuckled, the sound rich and low, sending butterflies racing in your stomach. His smile softened as he leaned in, teasing, “Noted.”

You sighed dramatically, unable to keep the playful glint out of your eyes. “Did we come up here just so you could tease me like this, or…?”

His eyes narrowed, his expression turning mock-exasperated. “Dude, why are you ruining the moment?” he asked, pulling you by the nape of your neck for another kiss. A deep one—heated, fervent, intoxicating, leaving you heady and utterly captivated.

Carefully, he lowered you down the bed, his lips not leaving yours. With one swift motion, he pulled your shirt off and tossed it aside, pausing to marvel at your body. You could see the desire in his eyes—clear and unadulterated.

“Well? Don’t just stand there and stare,” you whined cutely, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment but trying to keep your composure.

Heeseung exhaled sharply, crawling on the bed to kiss you again. “Can’t help it.”

His lips traveled the length of your neck and collarbone, nipping and sucking, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. With his mouth, he traced the line between your breasts, down to your stomach, until he reached your navel. Heeseung didn’t stop there. He undid your jeans and tugged it down before pressing his nose on your sex and taking a long sniff.

“Heeseung,” you whispered, the pressure from his nose making your body burn with anticipation. 

He knew exactly what he was doing, pushing your underwear aside and licking a stripe at the pooling wetness between your legs. He continued with expertise, making you writhe and moan in ecstasy. You tried to close your legs when the stimulation became too much, but Heeseung’s grasp of your thighs were tight, prying your legs open so he could continue what he came to do. All you could do was whimper and grab a handful of his hair. 

Your mind was screaming for him to stop, but your mouth could only utter his name as your hips bucked forward, eager for more.

Then he suddenly stopped, leaving you momentarily confused. He came back up, hovering over you with a proud smile on his face. You thought he was done but before you could utter a word, two of his fingers slipped into your cunt, making you gasp.

Heeseung didn’t say anything, he just grinned wider, seemingly proud of how good he was making you feel. His fingers slid in and out in a steady pace, growing more rapid and urgent the more he saw your face contorting with pleasure and euphoria. 

“Yes!” you exclaimed, your back arching as you felt the familiar knot in your belly. “Don’t stop!”

And then came a euphoric wave engulfing your entire being. You froze for a moment, your mouth gaping open as you relished the momentary high that washed over you. Heeseung’s fingers were still inside you as he kissed your forehead.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he lilted before capturing your lips in a fervent kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you met his kiss with a hunger that bordered on desperation.  Everything else faded, and before you knew it, the two of you were naked on the bed, moving together like it was the only thing that mattered.

The air was thick with the sounds of your shared passion—your breathless moans, his deep groans, and the unmistakable sound of skin slamming against skin. Heeseung was a perfect fit, his every thrust reaching a depth that had spiraling into an irrational desire for more. More, as though he hadn’t already completely consumed you.

Your fingers dug into his back, your grip tightening with every surge of pleasure. When he pinned your wrists above your head, your body arched instinctively, your hands grasping at the sheets as you gasped for him to keep going.  When his teeth grazed the sensitive curve of your neck, your entire body lit up, every nerve alive with overwhelming pleasure. And when he murmured your name, his voice rough and breathless, it was enough to push you closer to the edge, leaving you lost in a desperate, dizzying need for him.

Heeseung was a vice. He unraveled you, body and mind, until nothing existed but the maddening ache of him and the desperate, spiraling desire to never let this moment end.

“Oh, Heeseung.”

“What do you want, baby?” he asked in a low, deep and raspy voice sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

“Harder, Hee. Please.” you cried out, not even caring to hide how needy you were.

“Shit,” he grunted, spurred on by the need in your voice. “You’re so...” 

He didn’t finish his sentence, instead, he kissed your lips and picked up his pace. Rocking with more force and intensity. Drilling deeper with every thrust. Fucking you senseless until you were crying out his name and begging him not to stop.

The knot in your core coiled tighter with every thrust, your body trembling beneath him as you clung to the last shreds of control. His movements grew more frantic, each one sending shockwaves through you that built higher and higher.

“Heeseung,” you gasped, your nails dragging down his back as the heat between you burned hotter. He groaned in response, low and guttural, the sound sending you further into overdrive.

When his mouth trailed down, teeth grazing your nipple just right, your world seemed to have shattered. A wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body arching into his as you cried out, completely undone. He followed moments later, a broken sound leaving his lips as he buried himself deeper, his own release spilling into you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both catching your breaths with your foreheads pressed together. The world slowly shifted into focus, the haze of what had happened between you lingered in the air as you found yourself coming back down from what had felt like an incomparable high. Soon though, the weight of his body pressing against yours made breathing slightly harder. 

You gave him a gentle nudge, your voice soft. “Heeseung, you’re heavy.”

He grinned, rolling onto the bed beside you with a contented sigh. “Better?” 

You nodded, meeting his gaze as he brushed a few stray hairs from your face. “You okay?” he asked, his tone quiet but sure.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice coming out quieter than intended. “You?”

Heeseung’s smile widened. “Never better.”

Before you could think of something clever to say, he leaned in, his lips grazing yours in a way that made your heart flutter all over again. The two of you stayed like that for a while, stealing quiet, intimate moments in the privacy of your bedroom. Eventually, you both knew you couldn’t hide away forever.

When you finally slipped back into the hallway, your cheeks were still warm, and you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Heeseung stayed close, his shoulder brushing against yours as you rejoined your family in the living room.

For the rest of the day, his presence was a constant. Whether he was cracking jokes with Jake or leaning in to share a private comment that made you laugh, it felt like he’d completely settled into your orbit—and you didn’t mind.

It didn’t take long for everyone else in the house to notice your growing closeness with Heeseung. Your cousins teased you relentlessly, joking that Heeseung was the Christmas Miracle who made you shed your Grinch fur. Even your parents joined in.

“Had I known all it would take for you to stop grimacing every year on Christmas was a boyfriend,” your dad quipped, “I would’ve asked your mom to set you up on blind dates ages ago.”

“Ew, Dad. That’s so lame,” you replied with a grimace, though a pang of guilt flickered in your chest. For years, they’d put up with your reluctance to embrace the holiday spirit, and it hadn’t been fair to them.

Later, while Heeseung was off chatting with your cousins, your mom quietly pulled you aside. “I like him,” she said with a knowing smile. “He seems like a really sweet guy.”

“He is,” you admitted softly, hesitating. “But we don’t know much about each other. This is probably just… some temporary holiday fling.”

“Is that what you think?” she asked, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Well, sometimes those ‘temporary’ things surprise you. It’s just nice to see you happy.”

Her words replayed in your head, even as the evening unfolded into more teasing, laughter, and the occasional stolen glances between you and Heeseung. It felt effortless, the way he was seamlessly pulled into your family’s fold—laughing with your cousins, charming your parents, and somehow always finding his way back to your side.

At one point, as you leaned against the porch railing, your gaze wandering to the clear night sky, Heeseung appeared at your side. His hand brushed yours before his fingers slipped between them, the motion casual but deliberate.

“Wanna get out of here?” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“And go where?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper.

“Anywhere,” he said with a crooked smile, hazy with the warmth of the evening—or maybe just you. “I just wanna be alone with you.”

You didn’t even have time to answer before Jake, lounging on the couch nearby, cut in with exaggerated indignation. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he sighed.

“But now that it is happening, I guess all I can say is fuck you guys and please get out of my sight,” Jake added, rolling his eyes. “You have no respect for the single loners hanging out with you, did you know that?”

You snickered. “This is why you bring your girlfriend home for the holidays, not a hot friend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Jake retorted, crossing his arms.

“And whose fault is that?” you teased with a grin.

Jake shot you a pointed look. “Don’t act so smug. You’ve been a Christmas Grinch for years. I’m not taking any advice from you.”

“Fair,” you admitted with a shrug, wanting so much to keep taunting him but deciding against it because he was right.

Your cousin cut in from across the room. “Jake, when did you say you were leaving again?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he replied.

“Already?” you asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” he continued, his tone dripping with self-satisfaction. “We have a New Year event at uni. Heeseung’s needed for some important technical stuff. And me? Well, they need me for my invaluable presence.”

The chatter around you faded into the background as Heeseung tugged you closer. “You should come see it,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with intention.

You tilted your head, curious. “Is it fun?”

“I hope so,” he said with a small, crooked smile. “If it’s not, I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

You giggled when he kissed the side of your head. “How are you gonna do that?”

“Well, for starters…” He paused, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered in a voice full of promise, “I’ll take you somewhere private and show you a really good time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Lame,” you quipped, pushing his face away.

Heeseung threw his head back laughing. “Okay. I’ll try to come up with something better.”

And just like that, the night became a blur of moments—each one filled with laughter, teasing, and kisses that were never fully explained, only given and received with a kind of sweetness that felt both comforting and thrilling.

It happened again. And again. The gentle pull of his lips on yours, the warmth of his touch, the way he always found a way to stand just a little too close. By the time the night had fully settled into the quiet of the late hours, the two of you were tangled up in your bedroom again, tipsy, comfortable, and perhaps a little too far gone to really care about the next morning.

The train ride back to the city was as mundane as ever, but there was a sense of excitement buzzing in the air this time around. You sat back comfortable, looking out the window at the snowy landscape that blurred past. The past few days felt like a dream, a Christmas full of laughter, teasing, and beautiful moments with Heeseung. 

Your phone buzzed in your hand, pulling you from your thoughts.

Heeseung: See you Wednesday?

You smiled to yourself, the memories of the past few days flooding back—his easy laughter, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room, and the way his touch always seemed to leave a mark on your skin. It had all gone by so quickly, but in the best way possible. Everything had felt easy, comfortable, and natural in a way you hadn’t expected.

The holiday season had come to an end, but what you’d shared with Heeseung was just starting to unfold. There was something about it that felt like fate, or maybe just the simple truth that it was time for you to stop waiting for something that had no guarantee would ever happen.

You quickly typed your reply, your fingers moving almost instinctively.

You: Can’t wait.

When you hit send, you leaned back into the seat, letting the train’s rhythm settle the buzz in your busy mind. The thought of seeing him again made your chest tighten in the most pleasant way.

You couldn’t wait for Wednesday. For fuck’s sake, you couldn’t wait for the New Year.

[fin]

[uconnwbbcrashout]

last winter break

chapter i: “this is the love that we won’t get right”

paige x azzi

word count: 3.1k

content: mentions of underage drinking (of which i do not condone), swearing, even more angst

chapter list: here

author’s notes: back with some more angst (as requested)! a couple things: for the sake of this fic, they get longer than just a few days off for winter break before they have to start playing again. also, reminder again that azzi’s high school is in minnesota (like 15 minutes away from paige’s).

oh, and things will get worse before they get better :) enjoy!

Winter 2020-2021

Azzi is no stranger to pain.

It’s more or less the price you pay when you decide to dedicate your life to basketball—physical injuries are basically a given. Granted, you never know what the extent of those injuries might be, but it’s essentially a guarantee that there will be something.

And Azzi has dealt with her fair share of physical injuries over the years—bloody cuts, bruised legs, shin splints, pulled muscles, sprained ankles. They’re annoying, for sure, but Azzi has mostly learned to deal with them, doesn’t see them as excuses for having an off game. She’s learned to fight through them.

Then, of course, there was her ACL and MCL tear last year.

That had been a different beast entirely. One that she was wholly unprepared for.

A sharp, stinging sensation radiating through her knee, unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.

Perhaps the hardest part of it all, though, was the mental toll it took on her.

Azzi’s learned that basketball is as much of a mind game as it is a physical sport. It takes resilience, an steady mental fortitude to endure all the challenges it throws at you—blocked shots, missed game-winning buckets, losses in a championship game. Azzi was used to that, had been building up her mental toughness since the first time someone stole the ball from her at recess in first grade.

Going through a major injury like that, though, left her in a prolonged state of turmoil. It took away basketball, one of the greatest constants in her life, and turned it into an impossibility. It kept her glued to a seat, to the bench, helpless to be at her teammates’ sides when they needed her most. It fabricated nightmares late at night, making her wonder if she’d ever get to play the game she loved again.

It was almost too much to bear.

So, yeah, Azzi’s been through it all—all sorts of physical injuries and all sorts of emotional anguish. Anything you can think of, really.

At least, that’s what she had thought.

The way Paige had shattered her heart, though? Had left her alone to try to stitch the pieces back together?

Well, that was certainly up there among the worst of it.

It’s the heaviest ache, the deepest sorrow permeating throughout her entire being. The type of feeling that leaves a person completely hollow, numb to the world around them.

It’s not something you move on from.

Not for a long time.

If ever.

And how could she, really, when Paige was everywhere around her?

Over a thousand miles away yet still fucking finding a way to sneak into everything she could see, everything she could hear, everything she could feel.

Paige was in the creaking park swings across the street. She was in the lingering scent of cologne on Azzi’s pillows. She was in the warmth of a late August sunset. She was in the drip of a melting ice cream cone at the state fair. She was in the rustle of the leaves in the fall. She was in the bounce of a basketball on hardwood. In the soft fabric of a well-worn tournament hoodie. In the unwrapped birthday presents shoved into her closet. In the laughter ringing out across the neighborhood. In the music thumping in her car. In the first snowfall cascading down from above. In the sparkle of lights on a Christmas tree. In the burning of her lungs against the frozen winter. In the empty space beside her, in the ground she walked, in the air she breathed.

In everything.

Azzi has tried to forget her. Honestly, she has.

But Paige hasn’t made it easy on her. Always so damn talkative and blowing up her phone with message after message, even though she was the one who ended things between them. Never seeming to understand that every text, every word reopens the stitches holding her wounded heart together.

Even basketball is hardly an escape, not something she can throw herself into now. Game after game being postponed or cancelled. Practices with her teammates few and far between, cloth masks and distance between them. And the ever-present reminder of Paige that comes with anything even remotely basketball-related.

Needless to say, these last few months have been literal hell.

In hindsight, she should’ve known that this was only just the beginning.

*****

Azzi steps back from the bathroom counter, screwing the cap to her mascara back on and giving herself a once-over in the mirror. It’s just a New Year’s Eve party, so her outfit isn’t anything too crazy—her St. John’s varsity letterman jacket, a pair of tighter-fitting jeans, and some new Air Force 1s that she got from her parents for Christmas. Hoop earrings and a simple chain around her neck. She pulls at the twin curls framing either side of her face before tightening the hair tie holding up the rest of her hair.

It'll have to do, she relents, slipping out of the bathroom and grabbing her lanyard before making a beeline for the front door. Her hand is on the doorknob, just about to rush out—

“Azzi Fudd, where is your winter coat?”

Azzi drops her forehead against the doorframe, sighing dramatically.

So close.

“Mom, it’s, like, a five-minute walk. I’ll be fine.”

She catches her mother throwing her arms up in exasperation in her periphery. “It’s 15 degrees outside, Azzi. Just put on a coat.”

“No, I said it’s fine,” she protests. “I don’t need—”

But her mom is already in front of her, pushing her puffer coat into her hands.

Azzi opens her mouth to respond, but she sees the challenging look in her mom’s eye and decides not to test her tonight. She quickly shrugs the coat on and rolls her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Can I go now?”

Her mom smiles and steps backwards into the living room, lifting her hands in the air. “You’re free to go.”

Azzi nods and reaches for the doorknob a second time.

“Oh, actually, I forgot to tell you something,” her mom says from the couch.

“Oh my god,” Azzi mumbles, pivoting to face her mom again. There’s a suspicious glint in her eye that’s making Azzi feel uneasy. “What is it? I’m already supposed to be at Taylor’s house by now.”

Her mom smiles and takes a sip from her coffee mug. “Okay, one, it’s not my fault you’re late. And, two, I just wanted to let you know that I saw her the other day.” At Azzi’s blank expression, she continues, “Paige, I mean.”

Fuck.

Azzi hates the way her heart rate quickens, the way her mouth feels dry, the way her throat tightens. She tries to mask her initial shock with disinterest, pretending to pick at something on her fingernail. “Oh, really? That’s cool.”

The grin on her mother’s face tells her that she’s failing miserably.

“Yeah, we were both in line at the grocery store. She asked me about you.”

Azzi’s eyes widen and she pulls at the collar of her coat, suddenly feeling like she’s suffocating underneath all these layers of clothing. “Yeah?” she asks quietly. “What’d she say?”

Her mom gestures with the coffee mug in her hands, a wide smile still adorning her face. “Oh, you know. Just wondering how you are and where you’ve been.” She shrugs. “Said she missed you and was hoping that maybe she could see you over break.”

None of this is news to Azzi—she’s heard this all before in the endless string of texts she’s gotten from Paige since July.

Even still, her breath catches in her throat at her words.

She wants to see me.

God, but what does it matter, really? Paige made it very clear that this wasn’t going to work between them. And Azzi made it very clear that she couldn’t go back to just being friends with her.

That should be the end of it.

So why isn’t it?

Why do I still care that she thinks about me? Why do I care that she misses me?

Why can’t I just let it go?

“Azzi?”

Azzi blinks hard a few times and glances back up at her mom, flashing her a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “Oh, yeah. That’s um—that’s great. Thanks for letting me know that.” She hooks her thumb over her shoulder towards the door. “I’m gonna go. For real now.”

“Be safe!” She hears her mom call before she slams the door shut behind her.

Azzi inhales raggedly, feels the sting of the cold night in her lungs, then releases her breath into a cloud in front of her.

I’m so fucked.

*****

It’s not the usual celebration this year. Normally, she’d be hanging out with her family, or perhaps Paige’s family, playing games and sharing smiles well into the night. Paige by her side, the warm press of her hand on her lower back, her laughter echoing off the walls of Azzi’s mind.

Obviously, nothing has gone to plan this year.

That’s why she finds herself here—in the basement of her friend Taylor’s house, sitting in a circle with the rest of her teammates. Half empty beer bottles are strewn across the floor and the midnight countdown sits abandoned on the TV.

With a warm buzz dulling her racing thoughts and the giggling of her teammates flowing through her ears, she thinks she likes this alternative, too.

It’s a welcome distraction from the chaos that her senior year has devolved into. Social distancing, cancelled basketball games, college decisions. Lost friends, new future teammates, empty spaces.

The breakup. The constant fight between anger and longing, between trying to move on and fantasizing about a life where everything just worked out.

She doesn’t have to think about any of it.

She’s hardly thought about Paige at all, actually. She hasn’t wondered what it would've been like to spend tonight with Paige instead. Hasn’t counted how many steps it would take her to get to Paige’s front door from here. Hasn’t even thought about the last time she counted down to midnight, the hungry look in Paige’s eyes, the way she pulled their bodies together and kissed her senseless, her breath caught in her throat and her hands wandering—

Okay, fine.

Maybe Paige crossed her mind once or twice.

Maybe she misses her. Just a little.

She’s still pissed at her for breaking her heart, though. And no amount of alcohol can make her completely forget that feeling.

*****

It’s well past midnight by the time Azzi finally makes her way home, probably at least 2 A.M. if she had to guess. Her parents are not going to be happy.

She’s sobered up a bit now, thoughts finally feeling a bit clearer in her head. The wind has picked up considerably, forcing Azzi to duck her head down into her coat and shove her hands into her pockets. She's suddenly glad that her mom had forced her to wear something warmer.

Just a few more blocks to go.

As Azzi approaches the corner ahead, her ears pick up on the sounds of distant chatter over the howling wind. Curious, she lifts her head up and settles her gaze upon the group ahead of her. A rambunctious bunch of people, probably around her own age.

She stops dead in her tracks.

Even with just the dim orange streetlight, Azzi doesn’t need to move closer to be sure—that lanky 5'11 frame is unmistakable.

Paige.

Azzi is frozen in time, completely entranced with the figure before her. She can barely see anything—can just make out blonde hair settled around broad shoulders and the strong line of a jaw—but it’s enough to capture all of her attention.

She isn’t sure how long she’s standing there, her mouth agape, before she realizes that the figure is moving towards her now, is calling out to her.

“Azzi? That you?”

Azzi snaps out of it then, the reality of the situation starting to unfold, and she’s spinning away and striding in the opposite direction before she can even think twice about it.

There are footsteps now, quickening, thumping louder in her ears.

“Azzi! Hey, slow down!”

The sound of snow crunching under sneakered feet.

“Yo, wait up!”

Azzi speeds up her pace.

“Azzi?”

The voice is clear now, merely a few feet behind her.

“Hey!”

Azzi steels herself for impact, tries to remind herself to keep her resolve.

A hand curls itself around her forearm and Azzi half expects to see a hole burned through her jacket when she looks down at it.

The hand is turning her now, spinning her to a stop right in front of icy blue eyes.

“Azzi,” Paige exhales, her breath rapidly coming out in puffs that disappear into the air. Her eyes are bright, her smile is wide, and Azzi’s heart aches. “Hey.”

She doesn’t look all that different from the last time Azzi saw her—it’s only been a few months, after all. Hair down, in a UConn sweatshirt, some sweatpants, and old basketball sneakers. That same stupid grin on her face, the one she reserves just for Azzi.

Against her will, Azzi’s body reacts instinctually, urging her to move closer into Paige’s space, and she has to use all of the strength she can muster to hold herself back.

“Hi,” Azzi whispers, biting her lip to stop herself from saying anything less than coherent.

“Hey,” Paige says again, her gaze still locked onto Azzi’s.

They stay like that, unmoving, for several long seconds.

Paige is still grasping onto her forearm, and Azzi clears her throat to get her attention.

Paige blinks and releases her hold on her arm, sheepishly glancing away. Maybe it’s just the cold, but Azzi swears she sees a pink tint spread its way across Paige’s face. “Sorry ‘bout that,” she mumbles. “It’s good to see you, Az.”

Azzi feels her resolve crack ever so slightly at the nickname, the ease at which it falls from Paige’s lips. She straightens her shoulders out and crosses her arms. “How you been, P?”

“Good. Real good.” Paige grins. “Love it at UConn. You watch any of our games?”

Azzi shrugs, aiming for indifference. Maybe she’s seen one or two.

Paige doesn’t need to know that.

Paige nods her head, shifting her balance from one foot to the other. She ducks her head a bit to catch Azzi’s eye. “You doin’ okay, too?”

“I’m fine,” she lies, rubbing her hands against her arms to try to keep herself warm.

Paige gives her a disbelieving look, her eyebrows furrowing in that familiar way. “You sure?”

“I’m fine, okay, P? I’m fine.” It comes out harsher than she means it to, and Paige brings her hands up in front of her.

“Okay, okay. I believe you.” She focuses her attention on the ground, cracking ice beneath the heel of her shoe.

A quiet moment. And then—

“I miss you.”

“Paige,” Azzi sighs.

“Listen, I know you decided on Maryland and all that, but you’d be so good at UConn, Az.”

“Paige, I don’t—”

“You were made to be there. You—you’re just perfect for the team, you know that? Just—"

“Paige—”

“—exactly what we need. I talked to Nika 'bout it. You could be that last piece, for real. And I’on wanna be the reason you turned it down—"

“Just stop! Okay?” Azzi brings up a hand in front of her, effectively silencing her. “I can’t fucking do this right now, Paige. I can’t.”

Paige takes a small step back, a canyon forming between them. Her voice is quiet when she says, “Just want what’s best for you, Azzi.”

A dam breaks open inside Azzi then, sending white-hot blood pumping through her veins.

“You think I can’t decide that for myself, P? First the breakup and now this. You think I don’t know what’s good for me?”

Paige’s eyes widen and she steps forward, waving her hands in front of her. “No, no. Didn’t mean it like that. I swear, I just—”

“Hey, P, you comin’?”

Azzi peers past Paige’s shoulder, squinting into the night to find the source of the voice—a smaller figure standing on the same corner Paige was just a few minutes ago.

“Hol’ up!” Paige yells back, but Azzi hardly hears her.

There’s something about the figure that looks so familiar, so much like something she’s seen before. Azzi’s wracking her brain, rewinding time, desperately searching for an answer as to who this could possibly be.

All she has to do is replay the last few minutes before it clicks.

It comes back to her in flashes then.

How could she have missed it? So caught up in a trance of Paige, Paige, Paige that she didn’t even recognize the scene that was in front of her—Paige, under the streetlight, standing tall. A woman, next to her, leaning into her space. Whispering in her ear. Laughing at one of her jokes. Grabbing onto her bicep. Trailing her fingers down her arm.

Azzi tastes bile rising in her throat. She nods her head toward the woman, eyes cold. “Who’s that?”

Paige looks between Azzi and the woman, her expression faltering. “Oh, she’s just someone I went to Hopkins with. I swear it’s not—I swear, it's nothin', Az.”

“It’s fine, Paige.”

“Nah, I’on even really know her that well. She’s the one comin’ onto me.”

Azzi scoffs. “You weren’t exactly pushing her away.”

“Azzi, look,” Paige pleads. “I know, I know, it looks bad. Like, so bad—"

“You know what?” Azzi cuts her off. “It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing here anymore. There’s no us, remember?” She backs up, putting some much-needed space between them.

“Azzi, please, come on. I promise there's nothin' there.”

But Azzi is already backing up, already knowing how this will end, already on her way out. “Do whatever you want, Paige. You’re free from me now.”

“Az—"

“Goodbye, P,” she calls over her shoulder, trudging back towards home.

Her mind is swirling now, distorting reality to the point that she can’t be sure of what she saw. Was Paige leaning in towards that woman, too? Was she laughing along with her? Was she brushing up against her side? Was she looking at her lips? Was she reaching out? Was she ghosting her fingers over her skin?

A thought occurs to her then: Paige is already moving on.

Or at least she’s thought about it.

And here I am, thinking she still cares about me.

She doesn’t let the tears fall, doesn’t let everything tumble out until she finally turns back onto her street.

And then it all floods in.

God, how could I be so stupid?

[yuyusbabygirl]

Strikes and Spares (18+)

pairing: bad boy!yunho x fem!reader

word count: 4.3k

content warnings: SMUT 18+, MINORS DNI, fluff, oral (fem receiving), yunho is whipped for reader

summary: you were minding your own business when your small town's bad boy came up and just declared he was picking you up for a date

Yunho was standing by his locker when you walked into school that morning. He watched as you opened your locker which was close to his own and took out your books. The look on his face wasn’t his usual scowl of annoyance that everybody in school knows and fears. Instead his eyes softened when he saw you and he could feel the tips of his ears turn red.

San was watching him and knew immediately who showed up by Yunho’s reaction. It had been like this since freshman year. He had to suppress a snicker at Yunho’s lovesick expression. He had always found it hilarious. The school’s bad boy who regularly got into fights, skipped class (except the ones he had with you, of course) and had gotten his first tattoo with 16 was hopelessly in love with a sweet innocent nerd. The best part? You had no clue.

Yunho was snapped out of his thoughts when San nudged his shoulder

“When are you going to stop staring at Y/N and simply talk to her?” San asked him.

Yunho rolled his eyes, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you’ve been staring at her like a hopeless fool since freshman year and now it’s our senior year and you have not once asked her out,” San chuckled.

“Shut up,” Yunho grumbled and slammed his locker shut. He knew San was right. But you were… intimidating. He realized how that sounded coming from him but it wasn’t just how pretty you were and how you didn’t seem to be scared of him, it was also just something about you. He knew everyone saw you as a sweet and innocent good girl because you got good grades and liked to dress in feminine clothes but he saw how you suppressed your smile when someone made a dirty or dark joke, he saw the kind of books you read when you thought no one would notice, he saw what music you listened to. And then there was the fact that you always smiled at him despite his reputation because you were so fucking polite. And what does he do? He chokes. Every time. Like a goddamn loser.

He watched as you closed your locker and prepared to go to class. Fuck it. It’s now or never.

Yunho walked over to you which surprised San who thought Yunho was going to creepily stare at you like he always does.

He reached you just when you started walking. “Hey.”

Great going, Yunho. That was the most lame greeting ever, he thought to himself.

You were just about to go to your first class when you heard someone talking to you. You looked up and saw Yunho standing in front of you. You had to look up quite a bit because of the height difference.

“Hey”, you greeted him back and wondered why he was talking to you. You didn’t think he even knew you existed.

He put his hands in his pocket, trying to seem relaxed. “What class do you have next?” he asked you. His tone was softer than his usual tone and he could feel the curious stares from the other students around you. Along with the usual downcast looks in case he snapped at them.

“I have English next,” you grab your bag, ready to walk to class.

He grabs your bag from you and puts it over his shoulder. “I’ll walk you,” he just states and starts walking with you to your class, ignoring your confused look and the hushed whispers around you as to why he was being nice to you.

You hurried along after him as he just started walking. You were incredibly confused why he suddenly talked to you and was now carrying your bag for you while walking you to class. You knew who Yunho was. He and his friends were the school’s bad boys which frankly you thought was a cliché title. But then again you lived in a smaller town and he does get into fights. It was maybe also the fact that he wore all black and always glared at people. Again, small town stuff. You honestly didn’t mind much. You had always found him attractive but you didn’t think he even knew your name. Both of you had different circles. He was always with his friends, smoking and you had even heard of them vandalizing stuff. Meanwhile you stuck to your two friends you had since freshman year, liked to stay inside and read and got good grades. The likelihood of him knowing you was small. So you thought.

He walked alongside you in the hallway and you noticed people moving out of your way while giving you curious stares. Great. You hated it when people stared at you.

You reached your classroom and he quickly moved to hold the door open for you. You gave him a confused look and walked into the classroom. Yunho put your bag down at your desk and you were so confused by his behavior you didn’t even question how he knew where you sat as he wasn’t in this class.

He turned to you and smiled. “I’ll pick you up at 7,” he states and walks off.

You nod before realizing what he said.

“Wait- what? For what? Yunho!” you called after him but he just waved and walked to his own classroom. You sat down at your desk, still confused what exactly just happened. You decided to brush it off and simply focus on class.

Meanwhile, Yunho was freaking out internally. He just did that. He finally had the courage to make a move on you, the girl he’s been crushing on since the first day of freshman year. He sat down in his own class, his heart still nearly beating out of his chest. San who sat beside him gave him a questioning look but Yunho simply gave him a grin.

During the day you started to forget about what Yunho said that morning, brushing it off as a joke. He had not talked to you after and you were sure he didn’t even know where you lived. You simply went home and changed out of your skirt into a pair of jeans to take your dog on a walk.

While you walked you passed your elderly neighbor.

“Oh Y/N dear, how are you, sweet girl? Such a sweet girl as always, taking your dog on a walk. And I heard you got a good grade on that exam. Your mother must be so proud,” she chirped.

You smiled at her, internally wishing you could just keep walking. It wasn’t that she was unpleasant but she, like everybody else, assumed that because you did well in school you were sweet and innocent. Sure, you were polite and you liked to study. But innocent is not a word you would use to describe yourself except for the fact that your real life sexual experience was limited. The only people who knew what kind of books you read were your two friends and they regularly blushed when you gave them a recap of a book you recently read. You also liked alternative things and clothes but you were too shy to actually wear it. Nevermind the fact that alternative clothes can be expensive. So you stuck to your skirts and dresses, which you also liked but you were dying to experiment more. Truthfully, you were scared to do so. You knew how people talked in a small town and you just wanted to get this senior year over with before you went to college.

When you got back home you had completely forgotten about Yunho and his comment so you went up to your room and did your homework while listening to some true crime podcast.

At 6:50pm, Yunho parked his car outside your house. He knew he was early but he was nervous. He had this whole date planned out and he didn’t want to fuck it up by being late. He walked up to your porch and rang your doorbell. While he waited, he smoothed down one of his nicer black shirts and ran a hand through his hair.

You opened the door and gave him a confused look. “Yunho? What are you doing here? And how do you know where I live?” you asked him.

“I told you I’d pick you up at 7. Are you ready to go?” he chuckled at your expression, ignoring the other question. So maybe he had followed you one or five times. Sue him.

“You were serious?” you asked him incredulously. You noticed he was dressed casual in black jeans and a black shirt but you could tell it was one of his nicer ones as this one didn’t have any car grease stains on it. Not that you knew what his shirts looked like.

“Of course I was serious. Why wouldn’t I be?” he grinned at you and took in your appearance. He loved seeing you in your casual jeans and sweater. The sweater paws you had nearly undid him.

“I didn’t think you even knew where I lived. And I’m not dressed for going out,” you looked down at your jeans.

He chuckled and waved you off, “nonsense, you’re dressed perfectly. Come on.”

Still confused, you put on shoes and grabbed your purse. He opened his passenger door for you and waited until you were buckled up before getting into the driver’s seat. He looked over at you while he started his car and the sight of you finally sitting in his car on the way to a date with him made him as giddy as it made him nervous.

While he drove his hand itched to reach over and grab your thigh but he had to remind himself that this is a first date.

“Where exactly are we going?” you questioned as you looked over at him, trying not to look at his veiny hand gripping the steering wheel.  

He just grinned at you, “It’s a surprise.”

You huffed slightly but let him continue. You weren’t the biggest fan of surprises, you liked being prepared for things but you were trying to let loose a bit.

Yunho parked the car and as you looked outside you could see the neon sign of the local bowling alley. Before you could even unbuckle your seatbelt, Yunho was out of the car and opened your door for you, holding his hand out for you.

You put your hand in his and Yunho’s skin tingles from the skin contact. He doesn’t let go of your hand as you walk inside, going to the front desk to pick out your shoes. You told the clerk your shoe size and after getting your shoes Yunho led you to a bowling lane, putting his hand on your lower back.

“Have you ever been bowling before?” he asked while he put your names into the computer.

“Uh.. like once or twice?” you replied while tying your shoes.

“That’s okay, I can teach you,” Yunho smiled at you and you were once again taken off guard by how sweet he was being.

He gave you a bowling ball, one he knew would be too heavy for you. He chuckled when he saw your arms buckle under the weight.

“Looks like I have to help you,” he teased you and came up behind you, his chest nearly pressing into your back while he helped you hold the ball. You stood in front of the lane, feeling his body heat as he towered over you from behind.

He leaned in to speak softly into your ear, “Focus on the pins and try to throw the ball as close to the middle as you can. Don’t worry about the speed for now.”

You tried to focus on what he was saying, you really did, but his low voice in your ear, his hands helping you hold the ball and the scent of his cologne made you a bit dizzy.

Yunho himself was not faring any better. He was using this as an excuse to touch you but he had not anticipated that it would feel so overwhelming to finally have you this close. He could smell your perfume and the realization that you were so much smaller than him sent his thoughts into a spiral.

Together you threw the ball and six out of the nine pins fell down. The fluttering in your stomach got stronger as you felt Yunho peck your cheek, chaste kiss on your now burning skin.

“Very good. Now you can throw again.”

He let you go for only a moment before he came back with another ball and put it in your hands. His hands didn’t let go of yours as he stepped closer to your back again and walked forwards with you. He leaned down to your ear and whispered instructions to you, which fell on deaf ears, his warm breath hitting your ear and neck nearly making you drop the ball. You managed to compose yourself long enough to throw the ball again with his help.

Two out of the remaining pins fell down and you felt your feet leave the ground as Yunho picked you up and spun you around, a soft giggle leaving your lips.

He reluctantly put you back down and you turned to face him, your flushed cheeks tugging at his heart.

Fuck, he was so whipped for you.

He could hear San’s laughter in his mind as the thought this.

His hands shifted from around your waist to your hips as he looked down at you.

“Seems like you’ll lose, Jeong,” you couldn’t help but tease him.

“Awfully cocky for a beginner, princess,” he smirked down at you. “You sure you wanna test that?”

“Well, you’d have to let me go to actually do your turn,” you quip.

He raised a brow at you and chuckled, “You think I can’t do that with you in my arms? Watch and learn, princess. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

He wrapped one arm around your waist, pressing you to his chest and dragged you along with him while he picked up a bowling ball and then walked forward to throw. Your arms wrapped around his waist so that you wouldn’t fall, your feet dragging over the floor.

“Hold tight, tiny,” he chuckled and leaned forward to throw the ball, tilting you back. All pins fell down and he laughed as he tilted you upright again. He smiled as he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes flickering down to your lips for a second before going back to your eyes. The urge to kiss was almost too strong to resist but he knew he had to. He wanted to do this right and not rush it. But fuck, you were making it hard with your eyes staring up at him, your body still pressed to his, the lipgloss on your lips looking so sweet.

He took a step back, his hands shifting to your hips again. The thumping in your chest took a moment to calm down as you both continued the game, with Yunho winning, of course.

After you both finished your drinks and put your own shoes back on, he grabbed your hand in his and walked with you to the front desk to return the shoes. He couldn’t deny that he felt pride being seen with you, holding your hand in public. He had thought of this since freshman year, watching you from afar, always wondering if you’d ever go for someone like him. Now, three years later he was finally on a date with you and, not to toot his own horn, but it was going quite well.

He lead you outside and you both slowly walked to his car. Once you reached it, he used his grip on your hand to turn you to him. You looked up at him, unsure of what to do now. You hadn’t been on many dates but you really did want him to kiss you. Your tongue swept over your lips for a second, his eyes following the movement.

“Fuck, I can’t…” he muttered and you didn’t have any time to figure out what he meant by that when you felt his hand cup your cheek. He leaned down and kissed you. Softly at first, relishing in the soft gasp you let out. His lips moved over yours, his hand caressing your cheek. You gripped his shirt, needing to hold onto something so you wouldn’t do something embarrassing like stumble or squeak. His tongue swiped over your lips, asking for entrance.

He was right. Your lipgloss is the sweetest thing he ever tasted. At least until you opened your mouth and his tongue dove into your mouth. He grunted and pushed you against the side of his car, the hand that was on your cheek going up to tangle in your hair.

One of your hands moved up to his shoulder, holding onto him as you felt his tongue move against yours. You could still taste the soda on him that he had earlier and, shit, it was the best thing you ever tasted and you didn’t want this kiss to end.

He used the grip on your hair to tug your head back, biting slightly at your lip. The moan you let out reverberated in his head and he desperately wanted to hear more. He thanked heaven, hell and whatever the fuck was in between that the parking lot was deserted because there was no way he could hold back the growl that left him as he felt your hand on his nape, pulling him closer.

He broke the kiss, slightly breathless, his eyes dark as he took in your flushed cheeks and swollen lips. That godforsaken lipgloss smeared.

“You know what this means, right? You’re my girl now,” he declared, his voice rough with barely held back desire.

You couldn’t deny that your thighs clenched at his words but you still said “No.”

His grip on your hair tightened.

“No?” he challenged.

“Ask me.”

You could tell he didn’t expect that. He looked genuinely confused at your statement.

“You declared you were picking me up for a date and I didn’t mind. But you need to ask me to be your girlfriend,” you tried to keep your voice steady. You actually didn’t mind his assertiveness but you still wanted to make him work for it.

You could see the shift in his eyes and how smile got a little bit darker, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Will you be my girlfriend, tiny?” he asked you, pressing closer to you.

“Yes,” you swallowed, this time not being able to keep your voice from breaking.

“Good girl.”

His lips crashed to yours again, pulling your hair and swallowing your moan. He pulled back before he could get carried away but your whine had him twitching in his jeans.

“I don’t wanna screw this up,” he admitted.

“Yunho,” you whispered.

“We don’t have to but, fuck, baby… can I taste you?” he asked and he was ready to beg if that’s what it took. Your small nod was all he needed to open the door to the backseat of his car and push you inside. He climbed over you, pulling the door closed.

His lips found yours again, your fingers tangling in his hair. His self-control was hanging by a thread at this point, finally having you under him, being able to call you his.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting this, wanting you…” he mumbled against your lips.

A small whimper escaped your lips and you pushed his leather jacket off his shoulders, running your hands along his shoulder blades. You felt him grab one of your thighs and wrap it around his waist. The bulge pressing against you felt bigger than you expected and had you clenching around nothing.

Could you…? No, fuck… not on the first date.

Yunho’s fingers slipped under your sweater, barely grazing your stomach. He felt your muscles twitch under his touch, making him chuckle against your lips. In one swift move he pulled your sweater up over your head and discarded it onto the floor of his car. His eyes found your breasts, covered by a black bra with a little bow in the middle. A little present just for him.

His focus shifted back to your face as he felt you grab at his arms. He leaned back down and began trailing kisses from your cheek to your jaw, all the way down to your neck. Your pulse was racing, matching his own. He felt like he could drown in the scent of your perfume if you let him. His teeth sank into the skin on your neck, where he made sure to leave a hickey. He wanted people to know the girl everyone believes to be so pure belonged to him, the guy who regularly got into fights.

“Yunho,” you whined into his shoulder.

“I know, princess,” he grunted into your ear. His fingers found the button of your jeans, slightly trembling with anticipation. Once he had opened your jeans, he looked up at you with a questioning look. You bit your lip and nodded.

“Use your words, tiny,” he demanded.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Louder.”

“Yes, Yunho,” you whined.

He smirked at the neediness in your voice and began to pull your jeans down your legs. He threw them to the front seat of his car, his hands grabbing the underside of your thighs and spreading your legs to make room for his shoulders.

You felt slightly embarrassed that your panties did not match your bra but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“Take your bra off for me,” he commanded, looking up at you from between your thighs and you couldn’t help but obey him.

His lips parted as your boobs were revealed to him. He leaned up, his mouth finding your nipple and gave it a flick with his tongue. You arched up into his mouth, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He growled and his hands fisting the waistband of your panties until you heard the rip of fabric. You looked down and saw him pocket the ruined panties, now completely bare before him. He shifted himself back down between your legs, both thrown over his shoulders.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” his voice was dark and heavy with desire. He ran a finger up your slit to your clit, a light teasing touch. He let out a moan and dove down to lick a stripe between your folds, closing his eyes at the taste. There was no way he could ever stop, no way he could ever let you go now. One of his hands held down your hips as you twitched underneath his ministrations.

One hand grabbed at his hair while the other flew up to hold onto the door of his car. You tried to keep your moans down but the feel of his tongue dipping into you made it impossible. Your thighs tightened around his head but it didn’t stop him, if anything it made him more eager to have you fall apart on his tongue. You looked down and saw his eyes looking up at you, watching your every reaction. He sucked at your clit and you pulled at his hair, making him moan into you, the vibrations of his voice making everything feel more intense. It had been a while since someone touched you and it was never this good so you could already tell you weren’t going to last long.

Yunho trailed one hand up to your breast, a finger rubbing softly over your nipple while his tongue alternated between flicking your clit and lapping at your entrance. Every whine and moan fueled his desire for you, wanting to record them so he could listen to them whenever he wanted. He could tell you were close when your thighs shook around his head. He focused his tongue on your clit and pressed a hand down on your stomach.

The pressure on your stomach and the relentless stimulation of your clit and nipple had you coming in seconds. Your fingers pulled at his hair while you moaned his name. Your thighs crushed his head but he didn’t let up. As overstimulation set in, your other hand also flew to his hair and you tried to push him away while you whined.

“Too much, please, Yunho, please…” you whimpered, words barely coherent.

He took pity and pulled his mouth off, licking his lips. His face shone with your juices and despite basically grinding on his face a minute ago you blushed.

He chuckled softly as he saw your flustered expression and slowly crawled up to your face, giving you a soft kiss on your lips. You could taste yourself on him and it made your stomach flutter in need again. He pulled away and you tried to catch your breath.

“Are you okay?” he murmured softly while brushing your hair away from your face.

“Mhm,” you hummed, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. He continued running his fingers through your hair, covering your body with his to keep you from getting cold. He helped you put your bra and sweater back on when you stopped him.

“Wait, what about you?” you questioned, looking up at him.

“You think I’m gonna taste the girl of my dreams and not cum in my pants?” he replied, his voice rough. He saw your eyes drop down to the front of his jeans, your cheeks burning red.

“So don’t worry about me, tiny. I wanted to make you feel good,” he reassured you.

He helped you put your jeans back on, minus your panties that he ripped and stole. Once you had buttoned your jeans, you grabbed his nape and pulled him down to kiss him. He let out a surprised moan and pulled you closer. His lips left yours reluctantly.

“Let’s get you home before your mom kills me,” he chuckled.

[judesmoonbeauty]

2025 Mystery Bag Prologue: Lucky Man Competition

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

It’s the end of the year, it's condemnation, after condemnation, after condemnation.

The busy Crown members also seem to get worn out by the end of the year.

Roger: Ah- I’ve worked hard this year. I don’t feel like lifting a finger anymore.

Harrison: I get what ya mean, the end of the year’s…..gotten worse.

Harrison: Well, Jude’s seems crappier though.

Jude: Those damned average employees makin’ stupid mistakes durin’ the shittiest busiest time.

Ellis: It's true that the busier you are, the more mistakes you make and the more work you have to do.

Alfons: I’ve also been rather busy what with attending parties with Elbie, greeting people, drinking parties, and caring for the cat!

Elbert: I didn’t ask him to care for the cat….but, you saved it. Thank you.

Liam: We’re all exhausted. But we’ve finished our duties for the year, so now we can take it easy to our heart’s content.

William: I agree with Liam.

William: That’s what I want to say, but at times like this,

Victor: My cutie Crown members are all gathered together ~~!

William: This man stirs up a perpetual storm at Crown.

Jude & Harrison: I’m dyin’.

Victor: This is a marvelous and amazing event. Let’s APPLAUSE!

Liam & Ellis: Yay! Clapping!

Jude: If it’s somethin’ stupid, I’ll sink ya in the sea today.

Victor: You’re the stars of 2025! The Lucky Man competition will be held in the UK, WHOOOOOO!

Jude: Tch.

Ellis: Jude, your blood vessel’s about to burst.

Victor: I see, I see! I’m delighted you’re so happy that your blood vessels could burst!

William: This is the first event where Jude is so excited about it that his blood vessels pop, isn’t it?

Victor: This is a project her Majesty has been working on for many years, and it’s being held for the first time.

Victor: Here, let me explain the rules. They’re simple.

Victor: The person who runs the designated course, and reaches the goal first will be chosen as the Lucky Man.

Victor: The Lucky Man is said to be brought to various events throughout the year for good luck.

Alfons: Essentially, it’s a race to determine first place.

Victor: It’s exactly that!

Victor: First, there is a qualifying round. Those whom make it through, will be able to participate in the final match. This means that everyone has an equal chance to participate.

Victor: It’s fun, it’s exciting! Now, all of Crown should join!

Jude: How stupid. Why should I be runnin’ ‘round in this cold ass weather?

Harrison: Yeah, I’ll pass too. Gimme a break, I’m already exhausted.

Roger: I agree. If there were some benefit like money or something, I wouldn’t hesitate to think it over—

Victor: What if, Her Majesty would grant any one wish to the one chosen as the Lucky Man?

Alfons & Roger: Anything?

Roger: Her Majesty’s really stepped up. Victor, I’ll join.

Ellis: Roger’s participating? Guess I will too if that’s the case.

Ellis: Jude?

Jude: If yer sayin’ “anythin’” then that changes thin’s.

Alfons: Just look at everyone declaring their participation one after the other. Elbie, what of you?

Elbert: …..I don’t compete very often.

Victor: Ahhh! Come to think of it, Kate said something like this,

Victor: “The Lucky Man is amazing! I respect anyone tries their best at anything” —

Elbert: Victor, I’ll join too.

Alfons: For cash. I’ll participate too. I adore reveling in drinking sprees.

Liam: Me too, me too! Win or lose, it’ll be a great memory.

Liam: C’mon, Harry you too! I’m sure Kate will come to cheer us on.

Harrison: Don’t hit my arm, Liam. Good grief, I get it……I’ll tag along too.

Victor: Now, that just leaves William. Although I don’t think I need to ask.

William: Of course, I’ll join. The real pleasure of one’s life is to enjoy everything.

Victor: All of Crown, including myself will participate by entering the qualifying round.

Victor: Crown, the townspeople, and the rest I’m certain —

[Transitions to Vogel]

Darius: — Apparently, an event like that is taking place. We three Vogel’s have announced our participation as well.

Nica & Ring: ….Huh?

Darius: Ahaha, your surprised looks are exactly the same.

Darius: It’s at times like this I think you really are twins.

Nica: Your eccentricities are nothing new Dari, but is there any reason for us to participate in this?

Darius: Do you really feel I always say such outlandish things?

Darius: Simply put, choosing a Lucky Man seems amusing, doesn’t it?

Nica: That’s it? Just the king’s whim.

Nica: So, why does my little brother look so happy?

Ring: Oh, um….

Ring: ….Because I’ve always wanted to get excited along with a large group of people.

Darius: See, my lovely Ring feels the same way. Don’t you think?

Nica: Fine, I enter too. Frankly, a wish that’ll come true sounds delicious.

Darius: You’re such good boys Nica and Ring. Oh, just one thing….

Darius: Usage of our abilities are prohibited since we cursed are currently confidential information.

Nica & Ring: Verstanden [Got it] • Understood.

Darius: I wonder who’ll be chosen as the Lucky Man? Hehe, I look forward to it.

[Story Set Master List] Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @drachonia @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul

[islandofthedollz]

Jimmy with a lobotomized woman agh

❤︎perfection ❤︎

⁠❥TW manipulation, forced surgery, verbal abuse, toxic Jimmy, implied physical abuse

⁠❥I love toxic insecure Jimmy with his lil lobotomized wife no thought just sit there and be pretty. I’m trying to feed yall as much content as I can before the new year!! ILY so much for the request!! :3

Jimmy sat on the couch, watching as his wife, busied herself in the kitchen. She was a beautiful woman, but despite her physical attractiveness, Jimmy had begun to feel frustrated with her. She was always questioning him, always trying to form her own opinions and make her own decisions.

At first, Jimmy had found this trait endearing. He had thought it was cute, the way she would try to assert her independence and think for herself. But as time went on, he began to realize that it was actually quite annoying. He was the one who was supposed to be in charge, after all. He was the one who was supposed to make the decisions.

And then, to make matters worse, you had started talking about getting a job. You had said that you wanted to help out more, to contribute to the household income and make you’re lives easier. But Jimmy didn't want you to work. He wanted you to stay at home, to take care of the house and cook his meals. He wanted you to be dependent on him, to need him.

But every time he tried to explain this to you, you would argue with him. You would say that you wanted to be independent, that you wanted to have your own money and make your own decisions. And Jimmy would get angry. He would yell at you, tell you that you were being stupid and selfish.

It was exhausting, dealing with you like this. Jimmy felt like he was constantly having to battle with you, to fight for control. And he was tired of it. He wanted a wife who would obey him, who would do what he said without question.

As he sat on the couch, watching you as you worked in the kitchen anger boiling inside him thenJimmy had an idea. He had heard of a surgery, a procedure that could help to calm a person down, to make them more docile and obedient. It was called a lobotomy, and Jimmy had always been fascinated by the idea of it.

He got up from the couch and walked over to you. "Hey," he said, putting his arm around you. "I've been thinking. I want us to take a trip, just the two of us. We can go to the city, visit some doctors and see what they have to say."

You looked up at him, a questioning expression on her face. "What's going on?" You asked.

Jimmy smiled, trying to reassure you. "I just want to make sure you're happy, that's all," he said. "I want to make sure we're doing everything we can to make our marriage work."

You nodded, seeming to accept this explanation. And Jimmy felt a surge of excitement. He knew that this was the perfect opportunity to get you the surgery.

The trip to the city was a long one, but Jimmy didn't mind. He was excited, eager to get you to the doctor and start the process of changing you. As they drove, he talked to you, telling you all about the surgery and how it would help you.

But you were skeptical. “I don’t want to have the surgery, you said”. You were happy just the way you are. And Jimmy got angry, yelling at you and telling you that you are being stupid.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, Jimmy was relieved. He was eager to get the surgery over with, to make you into the perfect wife. The doctor was a kind, gentle man, with a soothing voice and a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry," he said, as he led you into the operating room. "This will all be over soon. And when it is, you'll be happy, I promise."

Jimmy watched as they wheeled you away, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation. He knew that this was the start of a new chapter in your marriage.

As he waited for the surgery to be over, Jimmy couldn't help but think about how much he was going to enjoy their new life together. He was going to having a wife who was obedient and docile, a wife who would do whatever he said without question.

And when you finally emerged from the operating room, Jimmy was overjoyed. You were different, he could see that right away. Your eyes seemed duller, your expression more vacant. And when you spoke, your voice was softer, more subdued and slurred.

“Hello, Jimmy," you said, smiling up at him. "I'm happy to see you."

Jimmy's heart swelled with love and affection. This was the wife he had always wanted, the wife he had always dreamed of. He took your hand, leading you out of the hospital and back to the car.

As he drove home, Jimmy couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. He knew that their new life together was going to be perfect, that you were going to be the perfect wife. And when they finally arrived home, Jimmy was eager to start their new life together.

He led you into the house, showing you around and introducing the new you to his friends. And as you settled into your new routine, Jimmy couldn't help but feel grateful for the surgery. It had changed you , had made you perfect.

You were obedient and docile, doing whatever Jimmy said without question. You were happy to stay at home, to take care of the house and cook his meals. He didn’t have to slap you anymore when you got out of line or yell at you when you wanted a job.

Jimmy loved his new life with you . He loved the way you would smile at him, the way you would laugh at his jokes. And he loved the way you would obey him, doing whatever he said without question.

As the days turned into weeks, Jimmy found himself feeling happier and happier. He had the perfect wife, a wife who would do whatever he said. And he had the perfect life, a life in which he was in control.

"I'm so happy," Jimmy said, as he put his arm around you pulling you closer to him. "I'm so happy to have you as my wife."

You smiled up at him, your eyes dull and vacant. "I'm happy too, Jimmy," you said. "I love you."

Jimmy's heart swelled with love and affection. This was the life he had always wanted, the life he had always dreamed of. And he knew that he would never let it go, that he would never let you go.

As you sat on the couch together, watching TV and enjoying each other's company, Jimmy couldn't help but feel grateful. He had the perfect wife, a wife who would do whatever he said. And he had the perfect life, a life in which he was in control.

[vaguelyaperson]

the more i think about it, the more i like that izuku becomes a teacher as a quirkless adult, and that he supposedly never takes on full-time hero work

... it just wouldn't feel like such an odd ending if it wasn't such a sharp turn from the themes of the story.

it would beat a dead horse to get into such themes: the insistence that izuku could be a [pro] hero too, save to win win to save (implication of bkdk as hero duo), go beyond to achieve your dreams, ect. others have commented on this eloquently enough. i want to contemplate how 430/431 are a valid ending... if the story matched the conclusion.

bnha has themes that could've been developed to make 430/431 make more sense. there's the excellent theme that average citizens can be heroes through 'mundane' actions, and a suggestion that an ideal future would be one where heroes have too much free time (ie, pro heroes overall would be a defunded profession). i personally adore these themes, and was disappointed that the ending didn't explore more of what a better quirk culture should look like beyond 'uraraka reforms quirk education classes.' those themes (plus the commentary on villains) suggested an eventual overhaul of the current quirk culture - which we didn't get. which sucks. because these themes, properly developed, would make PERFECT sense of a protagonist who decides to be an 'average citizen.'

yet these ideas weren't quite attributed to izuku's character. he's the protagonist. he was set up for the big flashy future, right? which is why it feels like such a sudden slap to so many fans that he was supposedly content working as a teacher for eight years, that he wouldn't jump at the opportunity to become a full time hero.

now, a good bit of this can be attributed to story medium. bnha was skewed in the beginning to function as a standard shounen (boy has powers, boy works hard, boy achieves big dreams), and that it wasn't until about the last hundred chapters or so that horikoshi dug his heels in about writing the story he wants to write. so clearly if the story's endgoal changed in his mind (which stories often do, and manga is extremely restrictive in that an author can't rewrite the full story to make the plot consistent), then he only had so much leeway to lead to the eventual ending of a quirkless citizen izuku without taking the hardest turn from the standard shounen tone at the beginning.

but even then. even then, that's about a hundred chapters that bnha could've introduced the idea that IZUKU could be a hero in ways unrelated to professional heroism. that it's so unhealthy for this kid to sacrifice so much of himself that it would actually be better for him to pursue a different career.* or that it was even a valid career path for someone who initially dreamed of being a pro hero.

like, take lemillion; izuku's literal mirror. the story could've kept togata functionally quirkless, could've explored the full grief of such a big dream lost, could've explored the sheer injustice that this KID was put on the front-line and thus his quirk and dream were snatched from him... and then introduced a way that togata could use his skills to help people in a different career.

or take all might; izuku's mentor and cautionary tale. maybe have all might talk to izuku about grappling with being quirkless again. maybe have him find who he is beyond being of service to others (which is clearly these two born-quirkless fuckers dealing with massive self-worth issues, trying to justify their existence with heroics), and find relief in that. maybe have him wonder aloud if it might have been better for him to choose such a profession outright from the beginning, rather than repeatedly almost DIE as a pro-hero. maybe have the two revisit that conversation from the first episode, that being a [quirkless] hero IS dangerous, but that there is genuine fulfillment in other work - as all might has found in teaching.

then when it happens to izuku, it wouldn't be such a shock to the audience. and even if we don't see him change over those eight years of the epilogue, it wouldn't be such a shock that he turns down full-time hero work. we'd get it.

*because continuing off this point: the story very much established that izuku CAN'T be trusted 'unsupervised' as a pro hero. that ofa is almost a curse. how many fuckin fanworks reference an adult izuku who never stops putting himself into harms way, who keeps nearly fuckin dying (or does die) cause he never thinks of himself? the story could've EASILY built on this to the point that it would feel like a blessing that izuku loses ofa and can't become a pro-hero.

(instead of it being played in this.... extremely weird.... grieved not grieved, katsuki's sobbing but izuku 'started out quirkless' so it's fine??? like??? the tone??? is in shambles???)

instead, the story said "you don't have to fight alone, izuku, cause your friends are here." most especially that katsuki inserted himself as izuku's primary protector and competitor. that katsuki developed a whole ass power-up that could MATCH ALL FOR ONE'S power, that he CAUGHT UP to izuku as a hero. at large, class a showed the fuck up, more than once, to throw down on izuku's behalf. the story said, yes izuku is recklessly selfless, and ofa only exasperates this, but his friends are so determined to work hard to make sure there's always someone at his back. this will be the new generation of heroes.

... which... should've led to a completely different story conclusion. one that would've been just as valid as 'izuku finds more stability and meaning in being a teacher.' it would just need to be an ending that would have fit the established themes. i would've loved that ending too.

in conclusion! there's more to being a hero than flashy heroic acts. izuku is a selfless maniac who's probably safer in the classroom tbh. manga is a restrictive medium that can't be rewritten into a more consistent plot. nevertheless, given the amount of chapters horikoshi had to play with the story he wanted to tell, there was time to develop pre-existing themes that would better anticipate the conclusion we got. 430 and gods 431 especially - despite being arguably a valid ending for the characters - didn't have to feel like such sharp left turns.

... and despite learning to appreciate izuku turning down katsuki's agency offer, i still don't like 431. lmao

[collegetennisoriginstory]

Idk if this has been asked before but is CT:OS a standalone game or will there be sequels?

Haha. It absolutely depends on whether I can continue writing interactive fiction for the next 2 years, 4 years, or way more. Finances and whether I end up writing full-time somehow are a big factor, as is interest/burn out :)

If I've only got another 2 years in me, likely CT:OS is a stand-alone game.

If I've got 4 years, probably substantial DLC content using some of the ideas in PT:OS (below) but I've got so many other games/plots I want to try my hand at.

If I've got way more years in me... definitely a CT:OS sequel (or two, to be exact). TLDR above the cut, long ramble below the cut.

Pro Tennis: Origin Story

Where MC is 4 or so years out of college, has turned pro, and has risen slowly, painstakingly through the challenger tour ranks, and is now trying to break into the Top 50. At their age, it's probably a make-it or break-it period, as if they don't succeed then, they'll probably never succeed.

While CT:OS is about found family and coming of age and pursuing one's dreams, which I love, I'd want PT:OS to be about losing faith in one's dreams or one's talent, wondering if their sacrifices are worth it, wondering if one's actually good enough (or crazy enough), building a family of people who are firmly in your player's box (who has faith in you even when you don't have faith in yourself.)

More about PT:OS

Choose what happened to their relationships after college and after the first couple of years on tour (I love writing exes: e.g. broke up in college or breaking up fresh out of college cause the tennis road-life/ambition etc. killed the relationship)

Additional stats to balance like money/sponsorships/media presence/fame, and just... normal adult struggles like cooking for yourself, doing your own laundry, booking your hotel rooms, making ends meet (see elaboration below)

I want to write a story about being in a long dark tunnel, wondering if one should keep pushing, keep grinding, keep sacrificing their life and youth and sanity and relationships for this insane dream of being a tennis player

I'd probably keep the original cast of ROs, but introduce maybe 2 more? Perhaps a celebrity e.g. actor/musician (we all know how those love to flock around tennis players, but only famous ones), and maybe one's coach for spiciness?

As someone whose favourite part of Challengers was not, in fact, Zendaya's hotness (gasp, blasphemy) and instead, the scene where Patrick Zweig's character is struggling to find a hotel room for the night & starving & desperate for calories, I really want to make a game where the player not only has to deal with playing tennis, but also all the other practical life bits that need to align in order for a Top 200 or Top 100 player to become a Top 50 player.

Like yes, there's the Nadals and the Williams sisters and even the Nishikoris (who never quite lived up to their potential) but what of the players whose names you've never even heard of?

I'm interested in class (how only rich people get to tough it out / stick it out for years without significant sponsorships) and also race/gender/sexuality and how that coalesces with finances and media presence etc.. and also how mediocre players scrounge together a team to support them, plus of course the emotional toll of always being on the road (and always being exhausted) without ever seeing much of a pay-off until they crack some invisible threshold of 'greatness'.

Finally, the trilogy would probably be rounded out with a final game.

Third game (no idea what the name would be)

MC is older, maybe 30? And has suffered some career-ending event (injury, horrific tailspin drop-off) after winning a grand slam, perhaps seeking one final shot at proving to the world that they do have what it takes to be a champion, a legend to be remembered as someone who isn't just a one-slam pony.

Themes explored would be:

Age (when is it too late to hang up one's boots?) and still feeling like you've got what it takes even though the world's telling you you're past your prime, the limits of physicality

Trying to rebuild something that has been broken, when everyone's telling you that it'll never be fixed

Leaving a legacy, fame, self-worth (figuring out what to do when one is stripped of something that has been a guiding star)

Maybe even addiction?

<This would be the game that would be most heavily inspired by Carrie Soto>

If you read all of that, wow, I'm impressed, and yep, that's what I'd foresee for CT:OS. A trilogy, if I've got it in me.

RO speculations:

Tobin could even become one's physical trainer or nutritionist/physiotherapist, though maybe that's a bit of a stretch.

Sam could become world's most biased sports podcaster/journalist

Rayyan continues as MC's rival/(possible lover)

G is ... still adamantly Not Part of the Tennis World even though they attend every game?

What do you guys think?

[titaniumshortcake]

Adding to this, as someone in their thirties and leaning toward the sex-repulsed side of the ace spectrum: We've always existed, no matter how hard people try to sell that sex is a must for a healthy relationship.

You can be an avid consumer of smut or porn and not all that interested in physically participating in sex. You can spend twenty years or more not understanding the appeal of sex and then meet that one person where it clicks and you Get It. You can want the romance and the casual intimacy without having an interest in sex. You can change your mind and decide you want to try sex with someone, and you might decide it's still not for you. You can be entirely uninterested in all of it and completely content with your life.

Asexuality takes a lot of different shapes. A lot of the time, that shape is fluid or changes depending on where we're at in our lives.

With Lucanis, specifically: He is a work-oriented man. If he's not busy on a contract, he's looking for some other job to do (i.e. taking over as the primary cook). Intimacy is not a priority of his, even if it might be something he wants. Add to that the fact that this man is a wallflower who does everything he can to avoid being the center of attention. He prefers to blend in and keep his head down, because there's a kind of safety in avoiding the notice of others.

Social cues are not his forte. He misses the fact that Rook is flirting half the time, and is genuinely taken aback when he realizes Rook is interested in him. It's not rejection when he pulls away from that near-kiss.

It's panic.

His body language during that exchange is stiff; if you watch his face as Rook leans in, his smile drops. Lucanis is trying to take the lead in the way that Crows are taught to seduce a mark. He's probably watched Illario do it a thousand times, is probably jacking his lines straight from one of the romances that he's read, and he doesn't know what to do with the realization that he wants to take that step. It's all new to him. All he knows is that Rook shouldn't be treated like a mark, but he doesn't know what that looks like.

Most of us have been there for our first crushes; wanting to get it right, terrified of screwing up something good. And that's before we even factor in how Caterina raised Lucanis, and the year of torture that he's bottling up for most of the game, and his struggles with Spite.

For all of Veilguard's flaws, and the fact that I don't think that the game handles its depictions of trauma consistently, when it gets things right...it gets them right.

A portion of people within this fandom are really letting their discomfort with asexual people and virginity show.

I hate to break it to you, but there are people who make it to adulthood as virgins (and it isn't inherently tied to being religious.).

I need you guys to breathe and be realistic for 5 minutes, and also realize the implications of your exclamation about how impossible you find Lucanis being a virgin is. Maybe it's not within your scope of focus, but yes, it happens.

No, I don't care that he's a Crow. He specifically tells you that seduction is Illario's thing.

Yes, you can read romance and be in love with the idea (and even long for it for yourself!) and still not take that jump.

Sex is not casual for everyone. Casual sex is not for everyone.

Please sit with that before you guffaw and call it impossible.

[starkenobi]

Menace | Tony Stark x reader

masterlist — warnings: mcu; +18 romance; explicit sexual content; flirting; tension; explicit language.

Summary: Tony and Y/N can't hide their attraction and the effect they have on each other. And what should have been a simple photoshoot's interview ends up becoming the trigger for an important step in their relationship. [same universe of dracarys! and draw me like one of your french girls]

Tony felt ridiculous. It was as if he had forgotten everything about what it was like to live in the spotlight, as if he suddenly didn't feel bored to the others who lived in the spotlight either. It was as if he had gone back to his teenage years, freaking out over a really gorgeous celebrity and getting a terrible erection without even realizing it. However, Tony felt a little less stupid when he saw the rest of the people in the set suffering from the same effect that it was to be in Y/N's presence. And, well, in his presence too, he couldn't forget that he was considered one of the Avengers' sexual symbols.

“Is this all because of me?”

Y/N's melodious voice sounded too close, her lips brushing Tony's ear at the same time that one of her hands slid down Tony's thigh until she held his erection. Tony tensed, his worried eyes searching around the studio to see if anyone was paying attention to them. Without any shame, Y/N squeezed her hand and giggled innocently.

Tony pushed her hand away, while wrapping his arm around Y/N's waist. With a smirk on his lips, he pressed their bodies together and muttered a warning. "No messing around in public, sweetheart."

Letting out a sigh, she leaned to kiss Tony's jaw. “Tell that to the monster in your pants, I just came to say hello. You weren't in bed when I woke up.”

But before he could retort, their manager yelled for the security. The spell was broken. They were filmed and exposed on the internet by some intern.

The photoshoot was rescheduled, and Tony felt anxious to see Y/N, the two hadn't spoken since the confusion. She was sent to a mission soon after being exposed as the new it couple, and he had to deal with some Stark Industries shit. So, Tony was also afraid that Y/N'd act differently, and change her mind about wanting something serious with him after the fiasco. But, well, his fears and concerns were proven wrong the exact moment Y/N entered the studio next to the new photographer.

She had a determined sensual aura around her, which seemed to intensify when her eyes landed on Tony. Licking her lips, Y/N smiled mischievously as she slowly admired him head to toe.

Unlike the first set, this time the photoshoot only had five people authorized to stay in the room. Namely Tony and her, the photographer, the stylist and their manager. It wasn't that difficult to make this decision, since the risk of more leaking didn't exist only because of electronic devices.

As a precaution, they decided to do solo shoots first, a few clicks to highlight the clothes they were wearing - and the lack thereof - as well as show a different side to the public. Tight leather pants, transparent blouses, skirts with fishnet stockings, button-down shirts with colorful prints, high heels and lots of makeup.

The theme was a mix of fun and sensuality, although they were about to burst into flames due to the palpable sexual tension when it was time for the photos together. Both the stylist and the photographer chose not to comment on Y/N's swollen lips or Tony's messy hair, the makeup and hairdo were touched up in silence and the photoshoot resumed.

Tony held his breath, trying to keep a serious expression as he stared at the camera, uselessly pretending that the hand sliding down his thigh to his groin didn't affect him. But Y/N seemed determined to get a reaction, sitting on the leg she was previously leaning on, making sure to face Tony.

“Great initiative, Y/N!” the photographer exclaimed in the background, but to Tony it seemed like just white noise, making the mistake of focusing on Y/N. “Use your right hand to hold Tony's hair, see if you can rest your left hand on his knee... That's it! Now look here!”

Giving in to the teasing, Tony rested one hand on Y/N's thigh and the other on her back, a mischievous smile when he realized he had caught her by surprise. When he felt the tug on his hair, Tony squeezed her thigh with some force and pulled Y/N to sit on his thigh. Then he leaned towards her neck, placing a few kisses until he reached her jaw, nibbling lightly, making Y/N gasp.

“Amazing! Y/N holds his neck. Tony, slowly try to lie down on the couch.” the photographer ordered amid the camera flashes. Their breaths gradually became labored as the desire intensified. “Excellent, now reverse positions! But there in the area of ​​the giant pillow, Tony starts kneeling on the floor between Y/N's legs, alright?”

Before Y/N could do anything, Tony slid his hands down to her ass, holding her firmly before getting up from where they were and going to the indicated area. Y/N wrapped her arms around Tony's shoulders, letting out a soft "fuck" in a mixture of lust and surprise.

After practically throwing Y/N onto the huge pillow, Tony crouched down without breaking eye contact, resting his hands on her thighs and sliding his palms down slowly. Tony only looked away when he had to obey the photographer’s instructions, trying to maintain a casual pose while facing the camera.

The photographer's voice led them both into a state of hypnosis, or maybe it was just the desire they felt speaking louder. But when they realized, Tony was lying on the huge pillow, one of his legs folded on top while the other remained on the floor. And Y/N had one resting between Tony's legs, the rest of her body lying on the pillow as well. She had one hand on Tony's chest, while Tony held her neck, slowly bringing her for a kiss.

“Wonderful! Perfect!” Clapping his hands, the photographer seemed to be controlling himself not to laugh when he saw the confused expressions on Tony and Y/N’s faces. “The shoot is over. Congratulations, by the way.”

Without waiting for an answer, the photographer quickly left. Tony ended up laughing in disbelief, throwing his head back in an attempt to dispel the slight embarrassment he felt for losing himself in Y/N once again. However, his laugh turned into a moan when Y/N rested both her hands on his chest before grinding down her hips.

Leaning in until their lips were close, Y/N gasped, “Don’t lose focus now, baby.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart.” Tony retorted, his hands going to her ass and squeezing it tightly, helping her move for a moment before standing up without warning, taking Y/N with him. “But if I'm going to fuck you, it's going to be in our bed.”

Trying to pretend that the strength display and possessiveness didn't affect her, Y/N lightly tugged Tony's hair in retaliation, grumbling, "I didn't say anything about fucking, Stark."

Tony just smirked, placing a kiss on her neck as a promise. “Alright, just some heavy petting, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, maybe fuck me in the car?” Y/N whispered in his ear, hand still on his hair.

“Don't tempt me, woman.” Tony groaned, putting her down when they entered the elevator. “You're supposed to be the responsible one, not me.”

Y/N snorted. “Just decided to keep you on your toes this month, I guess?”

“That's it. You're grounded. No heavy petting for you.” Tony declared, a bit exasperated, but couldn't hide the smile on his lips for so long.

“Oh, but we're fucking in the car?” Y/N insisted as the elevator’s door opened.

“A menace. You're a complete menace!” He declared.

Y/N's laugh echoed through the garage. Tony guided her to the car with a hand on her back and a silly smile on his face.

comments, likes, and reblogs are welcome and appreciated! thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜

note: english isn’t my first language, and i don't mind if you call me inbox or dm to point out errors or typos. but please be kind!

[ylangelegy]

collision course 🏁 sunwoo x reader.

“I know what it was,” said Kim Sunwoo, strolling up with the unshakable confidence of someone who didn’t yet understand how much trouble he was about to cause. The young mechanic had a smirk plastered on his face, the kind that made Jeonghan instinctively want to flee. (Full Throttle, diamonddaze01)

or: sunwoo knows a lot of things about cars, but girls? a whole different story.

★ ferrari mechanic!sunwoo x race strategist!reader. ★ word count: 3.1k ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: non-idol, alternate universe: formula one. fluff, feelings realization/denial, confessions, car terms. alcohol consumption, swearing/cussing. sunwoo has a crush and is lame about it. i know nothing about f1/cars and relied heavily on google— so help me, god. (if anything is wrong/off? we ball.) ★ footnotes: this is a self-indulgent, belated christmas gift for @diamonddaze01, because seeing a sunwoo cameo in her ferrari!jeonghan fic was an absolute treat. in her words, "had to bring my other man in here somehow."

At speeds over 150 km/h, the aerodynamic downforce generated by an F1 car is enough to keep it adhered to a ceiling— theoretically allowing it to drive upside down.

It’s a stupid fun fact that Sunwoo likes to keep in his arsenal of pickup lines. He’ll be in a new city, grabbing drinks with the garage technicians and pit crew members, and he’ll pull that little nugget of information out of his sleeve with a winsome smile to boot. 

“Wanna hear something cool?” he’ll ask his victim of the night, gesturing for them to lean in closer so he can be heard over the thumping music. 

His success rate with the fact is at a solid 83%, which isn’t bad. 

Would be nice if it could work on you, though. 

Of course you wouldn’t be impressed with Sunwoo’s technical F1 knowledge. You had your own array of race tactics and data analysis, always knowing just how to make the car’s performance fit within the larger race context. 

You were brilliant, productive, and ruthless. The brain behind the brawn of the indomitable Scuderia Ferrari.

Sunwoo is reminded of it now as he leans over the hood of the SF-23, his brow furrowed with concentration. He catches your eye from across the garage.

“Hey, strategist,” he grunts out, and you approach gingerly to see what he’s griping about. 

Once you’re by his side, he asks, “You sure about this tire strategy? Softs at the start? I don’t know if we’ve got the grip for that, especially in this heat.”

Your expression remains perfectly neutral as you respond. “I’ve run the numbers,” you say. “The tire temps on the softs will be optimal. We can manage the degradation. The first few laps will be crucial, but we’ll have an advantage after that.” 

An advantage. Sunwoo lets out a derisive snort. 

“We’re talking about a five-second difference in lap times, and track conditions are ass,” he argues, wielding the wrench in his hand as he speaks. “One wrong move? We’re out of contention. I’m telling you, we’ll burn through those tires too fast.” 

“And I’m telling you, I know the risk.” Your tone is unwavering as ever, like you’re far too used to your decisions being questioned by hard-headed mechanics like Sunwoo. “I also know the reward. Trust the data.” 

There it was. Your go-to catchphrase. Trust the data. 

In the years that Sunwoo has worked alongside you, he can no longer count on two hands the amount of times you’ve thrown him that line. It was your way of getting him— and everyone else— to shut up, and he’d be damned if he tried to push back on it now. 

“You’re the boss,” he mumbles as he goes back to checking the car. 

In the corner of his eye, he sees the slight twitch in your jaw, as if you’re contemplating saying something more. You seem to decide against it, instead choosing to walk off with your chin held high. Maintaining faith in your own numbers, in your very credo of trusting the data. 

Sunwoo shakes his head to himself. He can feel the pull of his gut, but your confidence is hard to ignore.

It quickly becomes apparent that your conviction— and your blasted data— are not misplaced. The softs perform better than anyone had anticipated. By the time the race is nearly halfway through, your tire strategy is pulling ahead. 

The radio crackles to life with Sangyeon’s voice. “You’re going to need to hold your ground now,” the race engineer says. “Great call on the softs.” 

Sunwoo huffs out an exhale. Honestly, he doesn’t even know why he still tries at this point. 

You materialize at his side wordlessly. At first glance, there’s nothing in your expression that might give away what you’re feeling or thinking. But Sunwoo has known you long enough to recognize the upward arch of your eyebrow, the amused purse of your lips. 

I told you so, you’re saying without saying, and he can’t help the way that it makes him laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, running one hand through his sweat-slicked hair. “You were right. Trust the data.” 

“Trust me,” you amend with a knowing smile.

Sunwoo doesn’t quite know why, but something about your subdued smugness bowls him over. You’re already wandering off to check the timing board before he can grasp one of his witty remarks, leaving him at a rare loss. 

It was the strangest thing to admit, but he found himself wanting to be harmlessly wrong again— if it meant seeing that look on your face once more.

An F1 car can theoretically drive upside down. In the same vein, you’ve not-so theoretically tilted Sunwoo’s world on its axis.

F1 tires can reach temperatures of over 120°C during a race, which is necessary for optimal grip.

Sunwoo is no stranger to heat. His job has taken him all over the world, has put him through the sweltering temperatures of Bahrain and the merciless climate of Brazil. 

He’s learned how to handle those. 

Hot people, however? 

You’re several paces away from Sunwoo, your fingers wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle. There’s a lot of celebration in this middle-of-nowhere Austin bar, especially after Jeonghan finished P1. But Sunwoo can’t be bothered to care about his intoxicated fellow crew members. 

Not when you’re dressed like a cowgirl— a fringed vest, a leather hatband, and a goddamn hat. 

Was the bar a cowboy-themed one? Yes. Was Sunwoo prepared to see you in something outside of your usual race-day attire? Not quite.

He’s in the midst of untangling his complicated web of thoughts when you catch him staring. He looks away a second too late, because you’re rounding on him mere minutes later. 

“Never seen a strategist in a hat before?” you drawl, your attempted accent so horrendous that Sunwoo can’t help but bark out a laugh. 

Play it cool, a voice says in the back of his head as he leans on the bar counter. 

“Didn’t think anyone could pull it off. Especially you,” he teases. 

You sip from your beer, your eyes never leaving his face. Something about the action makes Sunwoo’s breath hitch. 

“Yeah? Thought I was all numbers and charts?” you shoot back, the lip of your bottle resting over one corner of your mouth. It’s a sight that’s going to burn itself into Sunwoo’s brain for weeks, he’s sure. 

“I mean, you do spend most of your time with a headset on, looking like you’re about to break down tire strategies. Not…” He gestures vaguely to your get-up. “Whatever this is.”

You laugh, and the sound catches him off guard. It’s low and easy, like you’re genuinely enjoying this. The two of you had always worked in close coordination, but light moments were rare in your high-stakes positions. “I can do both. Multitasking is my specialty,” you say breezily. 

Something about your tone— confident, but with just enough challenge— makes Sunwoo’s heart beat a little faster. “Well, if you can multitask,” he says, trying to keep it light, “I guess you won’t mind helping me figure out how to not make a fool of myself right now.”

There’s the ghost of a smirk on your face. “You’re not making a fool of yourself. Not yet, at least.” 

“So you’re saying there’s still time?”

“Maybe. Depends on how much you want to embarrass yourself.”

It’s a bit dizzying, how fast-paced this conversation is going. As much as Sunwoo would like to blame it on the alcohol, he knows it runs a little deeper than that. 

“You’re drunk,” he says for the lack of a better thing to say. The rest of his sentence goes unspoken: You’re drunk, and that’s the only reason you’re bantering with me like this. 

“Maybe a little buzzed, but I’ve got a clear head,” you answer. When you go on, your voice is pitched just low enough that he has to lean in a bit more to hear you. 

“You’re not exactly subtle, you know,” you note, and Sunwoo briefly considers making a run for it then and there. 

The air suddenly feels too warm, too thick. He tries to laugh it off, but it comes out a little strangled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Those little glances,” you say, flicking your eyes over him in a way that makes him painfully aware of every inch of his body. “You were checking me out, Kim.” 

“Was not.” 

Crap, Sunwoo thinks as the answer comes out of him a little too fast, a little too defensive. 

He backtracks. “I was just—” 

But then you do that again— sipping your drink while staring directly at him— and the words hitch in his throat. He’s caught. Completely. 

The flirtatious, suave Kim Sunwoo is in over his head, just because his team’s race strategist deigned to toy with him. 

What a joke. 

“You’re just?” you prompt, the slight grin on your face giving away the fact that you know what effect you had on him. 

Sunwoo tongues the inside of his cheek. “I was just trying to get my head on straight,” he finally says.

He’s not used to being on the back foot. He’s always held his own in situations such as these, and yet here you are— subjecting him to a sudden, wild rush of feeling with a few choice words and moves. His mind is reeling over the fact that this is how lethal you are tipsy. How much more if you were sober? 

A corner of your lip curls just enough to be dangerous. “Well,” you say, almost too casually, “looks like your head’s all over the place now, huh?”

There’s an unfamiliar heat blooming in his chest, one that burns far more than any tire blanket. 

“Yeah,” he grumbles in response. “No kidding.” 

An F1 car— including its driver— weighs around 740 kg, with the car itself weighing just over 700 kg.

Remaining lightweight is crucial to any car’s victory. Sunwoo’s job demands that he maintain the steadiness of things, never sacrificing safety for durability and vice versa. 

He keeps his hands steady as he fastens the car’s bolts one more time. The hum of the garage surrounds him, a familiar rhythm that he could work in with his eyes closed. It’s in moments like this that he feels most at peace. When the noise fades into the background, when the weight of everything else in his life feels distant.

Except the weight isn’t distant today; instead, it’s in the same room as him. 

You’d laughed at his joke earlier. Some stupid wisecrack he made about Mingyu of McLaren. He doesn’t even remember what he said anymore, because the sound of your giggle had just emptied out his brain. 

Sunwoo wipes his hands on a rag, shaking his head. Focus, he mentally chides himself. There’s a job to do. There’s always a job to do. You have to—

“Hey, Kim.” 

Well, so much for that. 

His gaze snaps up to where you’re standing by the garage door. You have your arms crossed in front of you, and there’s a slight frown on your expression. 

“What’s got you distracted?” you ask point blank. “You’ve been off all morning.” 

Busted. Sunwoo almost wants to laugh at just how absurd this whole situation is. How did he ever think anything would get past you? 

He tries, still, to brush it off. “I’m fine,” he says as evenly as he can manage. 

You step closer, your gaze narrowing as you look him over. For a second, Sunwoo feels like you can see right through him.

“You’ve been quiet,” you point out. “And usually you never shut up.” 

He raises one hand over his heart, feigning like he’s been wounded. That at least draws a small chuckle from you, but you don’t look like you’re going to back down any time soon. 

“I’m just focused,” he says. “Gotta keep everything in balance, am I right?” 

“Balance,” you repeat with amusement. “That’s your thing, isn’t it?” 

Sunwoo could praise the heavens at the opportunity to veer the topic into safer waters. He snatches up the opportunity, immediately launching into an enthusiastic ramble of, “Yeah. It’s all about maintaining the right weight. The right balance between power, handling, and fuel efficiency. Gotta make sure nothing’s out of place, or else the entire thing could fall apart.” 

Really, he should’ve known better than to think you would let him off easy. 

“And yet, here you are,” you say in a way that makes him feel like you’re playing a different kind of game now. “Completely off-balance yourself.”

Damn it. 

You’re not talking about cars anymore. Hell, you’re probably not even just talking about how preoccupied he’s been. Everything from the glint in your eye to the teasing edge in your voice promises trouble, threatens to read him better than any book. 

“I guess I’m a little bit off-balance,” he admits, the confession escaping him before he can reel it in. “But I’m getting used to it.” 

You give him a long look, something unspoken passing between you. Then, without warning, you smile— something soft, almost shy, and Sunwoo forgets his damn name. 

It’s like a weight he’s been carrying for so long has suddenly lifted, even if just for a moment. A glowing sort of warmth spreads through him, light and freeing.

“You’re not the only one,” you muse, your tone almost thoughtful now. “We all are. Maybe that’s what makes us good at what we do. We’ve learned how to keep our heads straight even when everything else is... a little out of whack.”

What is this ‘we’ business, Sunwoo almost teases you. The undercurrent of your words has him thinking this conversation has nothing to do with the state of the garage, but everything to do with whatever weird tension has been crackling between you two. 

The truth is, he's never felt this light before. The weight of his feelings for you, the tension in the pit of his stomach, feels like something he’s been carrying around for ages— but right now, in this fleeting moment of understanding, it’s like the air has cleared. He doesn’t know what to do with it, but he knows it’s there. This strange, giddy feeling thrumming below his ribs.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little steadier. “I guess we make it work.”

Surprisingly, he’s not worried about getting things right. He’s not thinking about the balance of power or how much he can handle before breaking. 

All he knows is that in this moment, with you standing in front of him, the weight he’s been carrying feels a little more like something he can handle.

Maybe it’s the start of something. Or maybe it’s just a crush.

Either way, it leaves him feeling light. 

A well-executed pit stop takes less than two seconds, with each mechanic trained to handle their specific role.

Over the years, Sunwoo has steeled himself to the pressures of being precise, of being steadfast and reliable under the world’s most insane time crunch. Every millisecond counts. He knows that better than anybody. 

He’s done this a thousand times, and each movement is like a second nature. The tires are off, the new ones are on. The fuel is topped up. The car is ready to go. 

Soonyoung’s car is on its way again, speeding off into the distance. Flawless, just like always. 

Sunwoo lingers, his eyes drifting to where you’re standing. He lets out a long breath, shaking his head slightly. It’s getting harder and harder to ignore how he feels whenever you’re near. And for reasons he can’t quite pinpoint, it’s only grown more unbearable.

Every second he spends just working with you is like another fleeting moment, ticking away before he loses the courage to say anything.

You’re reviewing data on your tablet, and so you don’t notice him right away Sunwoo coming up to you. When you look up, there’s the slightest shift in your expression. The smallest softening. 

“Nice work,” you say coolly. There’s something almost fond in the way that you look at him, and it has him feeling like he’s on shaky ground. 

“Thanks,” he says, trying to sound casual. He knows he’s not fooling anyone, least of all you. He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that he’s sure makes him look more like a mess than the reliable mechanic he’s supposed to be.

There’s a brief silence between you, the sounds of the garage fading in the background. The team is starting to disperse, moving onto their next tasks, but Sunwoo can’t seem to shake the weight of the moment. The pressure of the milliseconds, the years of perfecting his craft, feel insignificant compared to the one question that’s been gnawing at him for weeks.

If he’s learned anything from his driver friends, it’s that hesitation can cost you everything.

“Listen,” he starts, his throat suddenly dry. He forces the words out before he can second-guess himself. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

You tilt your head to one side. A wordless encouragement of go on. 

Sunwoo takes a deep breath, his hands still clammy despite the cool air of the garage. He’s never been good at this. Not the racing, not the work on the car, but this— this thing that’s been building up between the two of you. 

“I know we’re both busy, but… after the race, I was wondering if you’d want to grab coffee with me. Like, outside of all this.” He gestures vaguely at the cars, the people, the entire race track that’s been your shared world for so long. “I’d, uh, like to spend time with you. Not as part of the team. Just... us.”

You blink up at him, processing the words. For a second, he’s sure he’s just made a fool of himself. Maybe he’s misread every sign. Maybe you’ll just laugh it off.

But then you smile. A slow, genuine smile that makes his heart skip a beat.

“Finally,” you exhale, and Sunwoo doesn’t have the room to press you on what you mean because you hit him with, “I’d like that, Sunwoo.” 

So this is what it feels like, Sunwoo thinks, to finish P1. 

“Great,” he stammers. “I’ll see you later, then.” 

“Later,” you echo, your tone teasing but soft. “Looking forward to it.” 

Sunwoo steps back, nearly knocking into a tool box as he tries to take his leave. You don’t care much for his less-than-gracious exit; in fact, it makes you laugh a little, and it only makes him feel giddier than ever. It’s like a pit stop in the middle of a race— short, but thrilling, and completely worth it.

Every millisecond does count. 

And for once, he feels like he’s made the right choice with the time he’s spent.

🏎️ end notes: fan fiction of fan fiction? likelier than you think. if you love formula one and seventeen, you're bound to enjoy tara's ferrari!jeonghan piece, full throttle (part one & two). and to tara: this is insane. we have to stop exchanging fics like they're christmas gifts. <3 you.