#the neck is still the bane of my existence

[gailytine]

[k-hotchoisan]

hiiiii <333 I have lovedddd lovvvveeeddd alll of your works I actually spent my day reading each and everyone of them I love it so muchhh!! 😭❤️

I have a request teehee, could you write one where Sannie is like a professor in your college and there’s little teasing here and there and where he ends up having her alas!! DOM - SAN ‼️💋

his favourite

<prof!san x fem!reader>

Prof Choi likes playing favourites.

You’re his favourite.

Genres/Warnings: smut, dom professor Choi San, pwp, face fucking, unprotected sex, oral (m receive) ,mutual pining, age gap, size kink, cream pies, mild jealousy plot, sir kink, light bondage (just tying up reader) teasing, sexual tension, teaching assistantxteacher obv forbidden but we still eat it up anyway!

Word count: 12.3K

a/n: happy birthday to the man of my dreams </3 enjoy this little choi san birthday treat. i put my love into this so please love this as much as i did! and thank you @bro-atz for the tidbits of help as always 🩷

apply for taglist here!

You stare at the laptop screen, scanning through your details on the application form, double, and triple checking that everything was filled in correctly. 

“Which professors are you trying as a teaching assistant for?” Your roommate asks, her neck craning over to see you attaching the file to six different emails, to six different professors within the department, pretty much answering her question the moment she reads off each professor’s email. 

“Why not try for the department chair?”

You scrunch your eyebrows as if it’s the first time you’re hearing that. 

“Who?”

“Professor Choi?”

Your eyes widen, your neck almost getting whiplash from how fast you turned to your roommate at the sound of his name. 

“Why the fuck would I try him?” 

Your roommate shrugs in an attempt to hide her amused reaction from your reaction at his name. 

“Who knows? I’m confident he remembers you even though you spent only one semester with him”, she hums turning away to pour herself another ice drink from the pitcher. “On a serious note, you may as well just get all the help you can get. Besides, what are the chances that Prof Choi sees your email? He’s the department chair. I’m sure his mailbox is just flooded anyway.” 

True, you think to yourself, turning your head back to your laptop, and adding the professor’s email address in. But you still hesitate, staring at the application form, your cursor hovering over the send button. Your roommate looks over at you, and she decides that your wishy-washy behaviour is just being the biggest nuisance on earth, so her hand flies over yours and helps you to press send, and she watches you freak out at her while she giggles and escapes after committing her crime, chasing your roommate around the kitchen island for a good seven minutes.

Settling back down in defeat, you sigh in your hands, giving yourself pep talks. 

Right. 

The chances are close to zero that Prof Choi will see my application anyway. 

The chances of him remembering me are close to zero anyway. 

You shut your laptop, and the applications are completely erased from your mind. 

“Yo, check your emails, babe. The application results are out for me”, your roommate says, her eyes glued to her laptop screen. 

You settle yourself down across her, a chilled drink in your hand, pulling up your email inbox. As you expected, you see the subject headline ‘Teaching Assistant Application Results’, and you expand the email.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me”, you mutter, loud enough for your roommate to hear. Her head pops out from behind her screen. 

“Who did you get?”

“Choi San.”

Professor Choi San. His classes weren’t the bane of your existence—but he, himself was. 

And the fact that it only took one semester to solidify that claim. Almost everyone wanted to get into his class, so fucking many of them just squealing over how he looked almost god-like. You wonder how much of a swoon he would be, how much of the rumours that travelled down the stream were factual, though with thousands of students constantly fighting for a spot in his class, you sure were coloured surprised when you landed a spot in Professor Choi’s class. 

The moment he walked in, the whispers within the confines of the lecture hall erupted into gasps and squeals. Unfortunately, the rumours were right—the moment ProfessorChoi walked in, it was as if your eyes naturally followed his movement—confident strides in his steps dictated by his outfit—a simple dress shirt under a dark gray vest that accentuated his wide shoulders and skinny waist.  

He was so fucking handsome—his hair neatly slicked back, frameless glasses sat on his nose bridge, his sharp and small eyes hiding behind the lens. Undoubtedly, seeds of infatuation began lodging themselves in you. Well, it’s not like you had a chance with him anyway, especially when the gold band reflected from his ring finger being a huge indicator. Maybe keeping him as an eye candy would work out just fine. 

Prof Choi’s classes were interesting, and he as a professor, other than being a distraction during the majority of his classes, held his credentials. However, at times, some sarcastic comments would bubble to the surface, and even though he did tend to commend top-scoring students for tests, he still maintained professionalism for the most part—the content taught wasn’t rocket science anyway. You saw yourself being able to breeze through the syllabus for the most part until you received your grade for one of your essays. You stared at his comments, marked in red lines, circles, and words—tone cold and direct—not that you weren’t used to it, but this time? You felt his comments alongside him marking you down were completely unjustified. 

It was then that you pushed past the group of girls who would stay back after class to shamelessly flirt with him, under the guise of wanting to discuss more about the content taught that day, and you stood before the group, asking to speak to Prof Choi personally. Prof Choi did have people staying back after class to consult with him about grades, although they would stay shortly with him staying stern to his marking rubrics, but when he realised you weren’t backing down on top of the way you approached him so directly, it intrigued him.

His office was spacious, considering that he was the department chair—and without introductions, he had you dive in immediately in consultation. 

You wasted no time, flipping through the spent pages of your essay, pointing out areas where you felt his comments were unjustified. Prof Choi listened, and he refuted your points, some of which you decided to accept but not for one particular part;

“This part had no proper scientific support of your argument for this point-“

“Bullshit”, you cut him off. Prof Choi blinked, shocked at the blunt cut from you. His eyebrows were scrunched in confusion next, wondering if he heard right that a student not only just cut him off, but cussed at him.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s here. A small significance value is still something isn’t it?” You replied, pointing at the paragraph after. He glanced at the paper once more, forcing himself to focus while you fought back that your argument was supported. 

So you made Prof Choi sit before you and listen to your elaborations, and needless to say, he was rather impressed, although he had to hold his expression neutral. 

You came out of the consultation victorious—the day Prof Choi called you over after his class again, handing you your script, and you saw your total marks shooting up to a gorgeous score. Your head was so into the clouds that you returned a smirk along with a shrug—showing off your victory and satisfaction as your thanks—an I told you so, leaving the professor to stare after you in awe while you practically skipped to your seat. 

That sealed your fate. 

From then on, Prof Choi would have his attention on you—recognising which seat you picked to sit in in class, wondering why you hadn’t dared sit nearer. And when it came to picking people to answer questions, his gaze would fly to you immediately—either waiting to call you out once you raised your hand or simply calling you when he felt like it. For some sick reason, he finds the way your face scrunches up in stress when he calls your name in his honey-soaked voice amusing, and even adorable at times, though he would never admit it. But oh, did he love the comments and answers you would give him. 

Despite that assignment being the only one where you decided to consult Prof Choi, following every grade release of an assignment, he would single you out, especially after class, to fucking ask if you had questions regarding said assignment, which honestly started to freak you out—mostly because he never gave you the attention before, and you weren’t used to it. The whispering gossip in the class about you being the teacher’s pet slowly reached your ears too, and even Prof Choi heard it—and he only exacerbated that rumours by constantly giving you his attention. 

Every time you reached your dorm, the words that left your mouth which your roommate could recite verbatim, “I swear to god, Prof Choi has it out for me!”

Not to mention you were fucking relieved when the last day of his class rolled around, but unfortunately, his parting words to you were, “I’m sure I’ll see you around, y/n”. You did everything in your power to avoid getting into his class and even bumping into him, which seemed to work swell. 

Until now that is. 

Now here you are again, standing before the familiar heavy wooden door, staring up at the wooden plate, embossed with gold lettering “Department Chair Choi San” staring right at you. You had to physically drag yourself off your bed to prepare for the first day partnered with Prof Choi. And when your roommate’s words of “oh come on, he can’t be that bad. He’s hot!”, echoed through your ears, it all the more made you want to just ditch your first day by clawing your eyeballs out. 

You had to collect yourself before Prof Choi collected you. 

With a raised knuckle, you rap against the door, taking deep inhales in the process. His voice, which sounded deceivingly like honey, remained the same as you remembered. 

“Come in.”

You pause for a moment, embracing yourself before holding onto to doorknob and pushing his door open. 

There he was, Professor Choi, his eyes focused on the scripts on his desk, which had piled up. His space remained the same as you remembered, for the most part—shelves littered with awards and files, the same desktop taking up one-quarter of his huge ass desk, and the couch with the coffee table left to the side of the room. Prof Choi wore a stern look of concentration on his face, still preoccupied with finishing up marking his scripts. 

When his pen pauses and his gaze shifts towards the door, a small smile spreads across his face. He lifts his head and drops his pen, interlocking his fingers on his desk with growing amusement when his eyes meet yours. 

Fuck, he’s still so handsome.

“Professor Choi”, you greet, holding your expression neutral as you bow, forcing yourself not to fidget with your tote bag. 

“Y/n!” Prof Choi greets almost too enthusiastically. “I would assume you would be more than delighted when I picked you to be my teaching assistant.”

“Honoured, almost”, you reply. It’s taking all of your energy not to break his gaze. He’s staring at you with unreadable eyes, and you’re wondering if the fluttering in your chest is from the anxiety or the way Prof Choi is staring at you.

Prof Choi laughs, and it tickles your ears a little too good. 

“Sit. We have a lot to go through today”, he gestures to the seat before him, and you take it.

He switches on his monitor to his course syllabus and turns the monitor slightly towards you. 

“Oh, before we begin, it’s a pleasure meeting you again, y/n.”

Oh boy, was being Prof Choi’s teaching assistant a fucking handful. You knew it was gonna be rough, but to be assisting Professor Choi San? He was on another level—his schedule would be filled to the brim with meetings with the faculty on top of conducting classes weekly. You struggled in your first month, learning the ropes, especially from a busy and challenging professor like him. He wasn’t mean or cold at all, on the contrary, more direct and meticulous. Well, he had to be, considering his position. Nonetheless, it felt like he was always too busy to attend to your questions sometimes, and that would leave you to your own devices. 

You stand in the aisle, looking down at the assortment of foods lined up in the chiller. Has Prof eaten yet? Does he even eat? What does he even eat? By instinct, you pull out your phone and open his chat. 

[you]: Hi Prof. Have you eaten? I’m at the convenience store near the campus. I could grab something quick for you. 

A couple of minutes go by, but your phone doesn’t receive a ping, and you had to reach the office soon. So you pick up another tuna rice ball for the professor alongside yours before making a beeline for the cashier. 

Prof Choi hears the knock on his door and as usual, he utters his usual “come in”. His gaze lands on you, and he glances at the clock. 

“You’re on time today”, he points out. 

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. “I’m always on time, Professor.”

“You’re usually in a little earlier.”

“Right, because I got you this”, you reply, rustling through the plastic bag in your hands, fishing out the rice ball.

He looks up at you, confusion hinted in his expression. He doesn’t take the food yet. 

“What’s this?” 

“Tuna rice ball. Surely only having coffee in the morning is not filling your stomach.” 

You put the food in front of him. “Besides, I messaged you but you didn’t reply. So I just chose something safe. Unless you’re telling me you’re allergic to tuna or something.”

Prof Choi blinks. His hands reach out to take the snack from the desk, unwrapping the plastic packaging as he watches you leave his office to grab a mug of coffee. He glances over at his phone, and sure enough, your name is there with your message.

Since then, his reply would pop up in mere minutes whenever you asked him if he wanted anything to eat. 

Of course, the more you spent time with him, the more you grew comfortable, and all the thoughts you ever stressed about slowly faded off. Prof Choi grew more relaxed around you, internally grateful that you’re able to tank a significant fraction of his workload for him. Undoubtedly, you also come to realise that Prof Choi is human after all—he obviously would make mistakes, even as someone of his caliber, and deep inside, you found it rather cute, well, until you had to stop yourself from developing deranged thoughts. 

Not to mention, another problem seemed to pop up—his flirty banter. He likely picked up that it made you flustered sometimes, and since then, he wouldn’t let it go, relishing at the way pink creeps up your cheeks when he would say something that wasn’t like his ‘professor-self’, and at worst, feeding into your crooked thoughts. 

You stare at him as he types away, particularly, the metal band around his ring finger. You wonder who was the lucky lady who had the chance to be with him. You blink. 

What the hell were you thinking?

“It’s rude to stare, you know”, Prof Choi’s voice snapping you out of your daydreams. 

“I’m just wondering about your ring, that’s all”, you reply, forcing your attention back to your half-marked assignments.

“I’m not actually married”, he suddenly confesses, and for some reason, it makes your heart beat slightly faster. 

“Huh?” Is all you manage to reply. 

Prof Choi chuckles. He pauses his work on the desktop, turning his attention to you. Even though you have worked so closely with him for a while already, you can never seem to find your composure around him. 

Even though you see his face every week, you can’t seem to wrap your head around how insanely good-looking he is, how sometimes you struggle to maintain eye contact with him, because it doesn’t take long before you feel yourself slowly flushing. 

“I wear it on my ring finger so the students stop asking about my marital status”, Prof Choi clarifies. You watch him pull the ring from his ring finger and fit it over his index. 

“So you’re single”, you echo.

He nods, “I’m single.” 

What is this strange feeling of relief?

“What about you?” He suddenly asks. You’re not looking directly at him, and you don’t realise the way he’s looking at you attentively. And if you do, you just might combust.

“I’m…single too”, you answer, trying to meet his gaze, fidgeting with the red pen in between your fingers. 

“And why’s that? Too busy fighting with your professors for grades?”

You glare at him. 

“I think it was my professor picking fights with me”, you reply quickly, jabbing right back at him. 

You watch Prof Choi lower his gaze, a smile spreading across his cheeks—an actual smile—his dimples showing up. Oh fuck. Just when you thought you could depend on your ribcage to contain your heart properly, you found out Prof Choi could actually smile. 

When he looks up at you again, you break the eye contact, your gaze flying back to the papers before you. 

“You know, I’ve met many students, but you were the first to cuss out at me.”

You did? “I did?”

Your professor nods, cocking his eyebrow at the way you had seemed to have simply forgotten something as eventful as that. 

This time, Professor Choi bursts into a chuckle, completely amused by your reaction. 

“Is that why you kept-“

“Giving you chances to answer in class for credit? You should really thank me for that. Your grade for my class was one of the highest you know.”

You feel your cheeks flush. But before you can retaliate, Prof Choi cuts you off.

“Jokes aside, no. I think the discussion we had that afternoon had an impression on me. The cherry on top was you cussing at me. I liked that. Refreshing and endearing”, Prof Choi continues, his attention seeping back to the pile of scripts before him. 

“I think this side of Professor is pretty refreshing and endearing too”, you let it slip.

His pen pauses in mid-air. You don’t catch his gaze completely softening on you. 

As the semester continues on, you began easing into the class schedules. You watch prof get swarmed by a group of students, a usual ritual that happens right when the class ends. At this point, you had grown used to it. Sometimes the students would come and approach you instead, which honestly surprised you, but your heart would feel warm, knowing that these students trusted you.

It was then you became acquainted with another teaching assistant under Prof Choi, who joined shortly after you did—Choi Jongho. Initially, he came off as a rather shy individual, but the both of you warmed up quickly with each other, sharing the workload and bonding over gossip with each other. Gosh, was he fucking amazing with gossip, especially when it came to Professor Choi. Soon enough, the both of you were texting almost on a regular basis, the conversations weighing more towards academic topics sprinkled with a little gossip. 

“You’re going off with Choi Jongho?”

“Yeah”, you reply, bunching the papers in your hands. “I’ve got some things to discuss with him about.” Partially true. 

For some reason, even though your professor has been completely swamped with papers to grade and meetings to attend, you would always find him loitering around your desk from time to time. He seems to especially enjoy doing that when you’re around. 

“You’ve been spending an awfully lot amount of time with him”, Prof Choi points out, looking over your shoulder as he watches you scribble on another student’s paper. 

“Yeah, we get along well actually. Isn’t that a good thing, Prof? Both your teaching assistants are besties.”

For some reason, that makes Prof Choi frown, but you’re too absorbed in your work to notice it.

A couple of minutes go by, and you still feel his presence, not that you mind, but you’re starting to find it peculiar that he’s been hanging around your desk a lot recently.

“Do you have something to discuss with me, prof?” You ask, eyes still glued to the paper.

“Yes”, he replies, taking another sip from his mug. “What do you think of Choi Jongho?”

Such a random question to ask, you think. Maybe he’s just making sure you and Jongho get along well?

You pause, giving yourself to think, tapping the back of the red pen against your bottom lip, taken aback by Prof Choi’s sudden question, but the conversations you and Jongho had resurfacing into your brain, and a giggle escapes you, which makes Professor Choi subconsciously narrow his eyes and furrow his brows. 

“He’s fun to be around, and despite how he looks, he’s actually got a wicked sense of humor. Oh god, wait. Let me tell you what you he did that day while we were having lunch together-“

You turn your head to continue to run your mouth, only to slowly trail off when realise his face is just inches from yours, and you swear your heart is on a treadmill from the lack of distance between you and Prof Choi. It’s as if time paused, the both of you sinking right into each other’s gazes. You can’t help but notice how intense his gaze is, and you can’t seem to decipher his thoughts, but from the way this situation played out, you swore he’d just lean in and kiss you. 

Your heartbeat accelerates at the thought—why would he do that?

And when his fingers are on your chin, your rational thoughts are getting flushed out. 

“That’s an awful lot of cute things about Choi Jongho. I’ve never heard you talk about another Choi like that.”

You swallow hard, your body still frozen in spot. 

“What do you think about him then?” 

“Jongho? I was just-“

“No. Choi San.”

Oh god. You could only stare back at him. Prof Choi tilts his head, his eyebrows raised, waiting for his answer. His cologne floats and almost shuts down your senses—has he always smelled this good? 

The corner of his lips curl slightly at the way you’re staring at him like a deer in the headlights. 

“I t-think Prof-“

“San. Choi San”, he corrects you. 

Another hard swallow the more you try to focus your gaze on him. 

“I think Choi San’s a great professor. He’s really competent, a lot softer than he presents himself as-“

Fuck you can’t think. Not when he’s staring down your eyes to your lips like that. 

“Mmhm.”

“And he’s really so-“

Then a loud knock echoes across the room, breaking the tension. Prof Choi’s body doesn’t shift, but he looks up at the door, shouting “door’s unlocked”, before he stands back upright, adjusting his glasses and walking back to his desk. 

Jongho’s head peeks in, then he bows at Prof Choi before he walks to your desk. You stare up at him with a forced smile. 

“Ready to go? I was waiting for your message”, Jongho says, his eyes glancing over the professor, then you, a strange feeling that he probably interrupted something. 

You nod, while shoving your belongings into your bag, then slinging it on your shoulder. 

Barely being able to look at Professor Choi, you still force yourself to, bowing goodbye to him. 

“Thank you Prof Choi. See you tomorrow.”

He looks up from his desk, right into your eyes. 

“See you too, y/n.” 

You can’t help but wonder how far things would have gone if Jongho didn’t knock the door.

Jongho isn’t an idiot. Initially, he assumes that you and the professor were on much friendlier terms considering that you came in before he did. Granted, the workload he would give the both of you was the same, he would take the initiative to have lunch with the both of you both individually and together whenever he had pockets of free time, but what roused his awareness was the lingering glances Professor Choi would cast at you from time to time, the way he seemed to relish the reactions you would give him whenever he teased you. 

He notices the way your ears would grow red even when you roll your eyes at the professor and jab him with another playful snarky remark. 

Though he wonders how dangerous things could get, Jongho thinks this could get interesting. 

The semester continues smoothly, the only change being that Jongho being absent from the office more often due to his other commitment to soccer. You remember him telling you he had quite a big match coming up, the sparkle in his eyes bright and twinkling whenever he talks about said sport. 

If he wasn’t in classes, he’d be off for training, hopping into the office from time to time to pass Professor Choi marked scripts and reports. Prof Choi pretty much didn’t mind—he stated as long as Jongho did his job, he could be free to do what he wanted outside of being a teaching assistant.

Needless to say, the office was mostly Prof Choi and you, now even more time spent with him with Jongho mostly being absent. By then, the both of you had grown so accustomed to being in each other’s presence that banters amongst each other became the norm—the both of you competing with each other with unserious remarks, laced with almost flirtatiousness, just to see who would back down first. 

Then came the proximity—since Prof Choi would wander over your desk as if he had all the free time in the world, he would somehow strike up another conversation with you, leaning over to hear you better, his arm bumping into yours to look over at the papers you were grading to check if you were doing them correctly. But what he absolutely adores the most is when you’d roll over to his desk to pester him with your questions—sometimes even testing him on his own content. 

He likes the way he gets to be closer to you. He likes the way your shoulders touch his when you lean in to push the paper towards him so he can see the script better. 

He likes the way you would finally look up and meet his eyes when you’re done formulating your question, waiting to hear his opinion.

Today is no different—Professor Choi being so used to the notion that he would only be seeing you in the office, the corner of his lips pull upwards at the thought of the types of banter you would have with him, the kinds of shenanigans you would bring into the office.

He hears your knock at the time you would always arrive, watching the way the door opens, and your head popping from the door, as you greet, “Hi Prof!” 

“Good morning, y/n”, he would greet back, sipping on his morning coffee. 

You walk over to his desk, dropping his tuna rice ball. “Here you go. Enjoy your breakfast, Prof!”

“You can stop calling me Prof”, Prof Choi suddenly says, twirling the pen in his hand. For a second, you wonder what triggered the sudden change. You’ve been calling him Prof since day one, pretty much used to it already, the only time you didn’t was when he—never mind. The thought of it is making your face flush again. 

“Is there something else you want me to call you?” You ask, trying to calm your heartbeat down when that memory suddenly resurfaces. 

“You can call me San. I’m fine with that. I know you’re still my teaching assistant but we’ve been working closely. I think it’s fine to drop the Prof honorific.”

You try out. 

“Sure thing San”, you reply. “Though it’s gonna take a while for me to get used to this.”

“If you’re able to cuss in front of me, calling me by my name should be the least of your worries, y/n”, San teases.

You raise your hand, feigning a stance ready to smack him before you lower your arm, listening to the way San laughs before rolling your eyes and sinking into your desk. 

The day marches on as normal—attending a class or two with Jongho before he’s whisked away to his soccer practice, leaving just the two of you for the rest of the day. 

San is leaning at your desk again, looking at you typing out your report. He squints slightly before he leans down to your shoulder, his finger pointed at one of the paragraphs, asking you about the content. You answer him, and when you turn your head once you’re done, you find yourself looking at San’s side profile mere inches away—his sun-kissed skin, his pretty lashes, his thick, well-trimmed eyebrows, and the way his lips protrude out a little—he always looked like he’s pouting in the most adorable way. 

That’s when you realise a problem seemed to be bubbling up to the surface, try as you might to ignore it, repress it—that you’re falling for your professor. Fast. 

You snap back to reality, finally aware of how loud your heart is beating against your rib cage, and your hand flies up in instinct as a divider between you and San. San blinks at the sudden movement, confused. 

“Y/n, what are you doing?” He’s not moving. 

“I think I’ve got something on my face.”

San cocks an eyebrow. “You do? Let me check-“ 

His palm covers yours, bringing it down to the table, and you’re kicking yourself for sprouting such a self-sabotaging lie.

Why? Because now San has his hand on yours on top of his face in full view of yours, his eyes meeting yours before his gaze flutters around your face, checking for whatever hell you said was on your face. 

His gaze meets yours and for a split second, something else glints in his eyes. 

The door swings open, and San straightens himself up, slightly irritated at the interruption, leaving you to spin your chair away from San, your hands cupping your cheeks, the heat warming you up against the cold air conditioner. The heat from his hand on yours lingers for a little longer. 

Jongho walks in, his duffel slinging on his shoulder with his shoe bag clipped. 

“Hey, Prof. Hey cutie.” 

San blinks. What did he just call you?

“Hey jjongie. Aren’t you supposed to be at practice?” You ask, forcing yourself to focus on your colleague instead. 

“Supposedly, yeah, but there was a sudden downpour midway so training got cancelled. Might as well get some work done here”, he shrugs, dropping his bag onto the floor. 

San is wrapping his head around the fact that you and Jongho seem to have pet names for each other. 

“Didn’t miss me too much right?” Jongho teases. “‘Cause I did!”

“That’s a first coming from you jjongie”, you reply, surprising a smile. 

“Of course! It’s been a while, how could I not? We should go eat dinner together sometime.”

San only stares on in silence, pretending to sink back into his grading.

Jongho walks over to your desk, taking his turn to look at your report. San watches the way Jongho’s arm is comfortable over your seat, as he asks you about your report, talking to you as if San wasn’t just behind you seconds before. 

The fact you’re entertaining him—hitting his arm playfully and laughing at his remarks—all the more rouses some kind of irritation in San. It’s like a boiling pot. 

He pretends he doesn’t see the way Jongho leans in to whisper something into your ear although it’s bugging him so fucking much. For once, he wishes Jongho’s training didn’t cancel. 

“Oh right before I forget”, Jongho mutters, rushing back to his desk, digging through his bag. He walks back over with a paper in hand and places it before you. You glance down and your face brightens up—it’s a ticket to his game. 

“For real?” You exclaim, your eyes bright, taking the ticket in your hands. “I’ll definitely make time for you.”

“I’ll score goals for you, kay?” Jongho teases, his eyes glancing at San, who is progressively looking more irritated. 

“Ah, Is San not going?” 

“San? Since when were you on first name basis with him?” Jongho wonders aloud, the suspicion only brewing even more. 

“Jongho, don’t you have reports to hand in?” San asks curtly. 

You feel like you are caught in between crossfire for some reason. 

Jongho smiles, then has your head under his arm, which elicits another irritated reaction from your professor. 

You have never had Jongho done this before. In fact, you recall him offhandedly mentioning that he’s never a physical touch person, and that anything with physical touch makes him shudder. 

“Relax, Prof. You’d rather your subordinates get along than not right?”

Just when San is about to reply, Jongho suddenly exclaims. 

“AH, coach is calling me back to the field. Prof, I’ll send you the report by tomorrow okay? See you guys!”, Jongho hums as he runs back to his desktop to turn it off. 

“Has he always been like that?” San wonders aloud, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“I guess. It’s actually what makes him cute.”

“Cute? You think Jongho is…cute?” 

“Is he not? Doesn’t he remind you of a bear? Big and cuddly.”

San clears his throat, and you watch him walk over to your desk, his hand resting on the tabletop. He leans in. 

“So… you find it cute when he gives you pet names?”

“Well, I mean-“

“You find it cute when he plays with your hair?” San curls your locks around his fingers. 

You can’t seem to get words to leave your throat. 

“You find it cute when he has his hands all over you like that?” He’s leaning in even closer this time, arms trapping you at either side.

“Prof-“

“No. It’s sir.”

Your mind is in a whirlwind at the way he’s towering over you, his scent the only thing filling your olfactory senses, the way he’s staring right into you, gaze sharp as a blade. 

“You find it cute when his touches run up your body like this?” His fingers are trailing up your arms, every touch he burns into your skin, and when his thumb pauses at your chin, you realise you’re royally fucked.

Once more, his face is mere inches away from yours. You wonder if you’ll be teased like two previous times before. 

“Of course you don’t. You’d rather I do that to you, right?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Yes, sir.”

His voice is barely a whisper, his eyes downcast, staring at your lips like it’s his reward to claim. 

“Good girl.”

Of course, he claims it.

His kisses are so greedy—his lips prying yours open, and you feel yourself completely give in to him, surrendering whatever resistance, rationale, repression to Choi San. 

You want more—you want seconds. Every swipe his tongue passes your lip, it makes your head float. How does someone taste this fucking good?

He pauses mid-way—barely a couple of seconds, to pull off his glasses and strew them across the desk—then goes back to devouring your lips. 

San would smile in between kisses when he hears your whimpers. He thinks you’re so fucking adorable when you tremble slightly at his touch. It all goes straight to his cock. 

He thinks you’ll be even more adorable when he ruins you. 

When San pulls back, he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, watching your glazed-out expression with amusement. 

"I'd love to continue messing you up, but I have a meeting to attend. I’ll deal with you later, sweetheart. See you next week.”

His touch lingers on your chin for a couple of seconds longer before he pulls away and shifts to walk back to his desk, leaving your heartbeat wild and erratic, and your thighs squeezed tighter.

Since then, that was all you ever thought about—the slight smile before his lips collided with yours, the way his words rang in your ears. You could barely meet his eyes. 

In more instances than one and with any chance given to him, he’d close up any physical distance he had with you. Worried that your emotions would bubble and overflow when he does that, you developed a habit of avoiding his eye contact. 

Even after classes, you swore he was casting you glances even with lines of students waiting to talk to him. 

“Did you piss Prof off or something?” Jongho asks as he shuts his laptop. 

“Why are you asking?”

He shrugs. “It’s just that he’s been eyeing you down like a hawk recently. Did something happen between the both of you?”

You freeze when the flashbacks of the taste of his lips return to your memory when you remember how hungry he looked just wanting to devour you. 

“Y/n?”

You blink, then force yourself to meet Jongho’s eyes. 

“No. Nothing happened. At least I hope I didn’t make any mistakes.”

“You’re fine. There’s a reason why the department chair chose his teaching assistants.”

You laugh softly at his words.

But when you hear San’s voice from behind you, you almost jump. 

“Y/n, Jongho, the both of you can wrap up here and head back to the office”, he instructs. You feel his warmth radiating from behind, and it only makes your heart jump at the proximity. 

You watch Jongho slowly pack up, small conversations sparking between the both of you about his soccer practice. 

You glance at the door. San isn’t back yet. 

“I think it’ll take him awhile to be back. The students there seem to really like him.” 

No doubt, the female students for this class seemed a lot more assertive, almost always demanding all of San’s time. Well, not that it should matter. It’s not as if he should mean anything-

“Y/n? Are you okay? You seem pretty off recently. Even Prof’s pretty worried”, Jongho’s voice grounding you back to the cold office. 

You force a smile and shake your head. 

“I’m fine. I guess it’s just so much workload to deal with.” 

Jongho places his hand on your shoulder in comfort, “You’re doing fine. You know you can approach either of us if you’re struggling right?”

You feel comforted, even though your messy thoughts weren’t even about the workload, so you return an assured smile before waving Jongho off for his soccer practice. 

You’re wondering what you’re feeling nervous about, because when the door of San’s room opens, you jolt slightly. 

“You’re still here?” You hear San ask. 

“Yeah. Need to reply to some emails and double-check some of their assignments.” Not a total lie. It’s the swirling feelings he’s been giving you whenever that day surfaces in your mind, the small bouts of attention he pays you and the touches he lets linger a little too long that’s all a dopamine rush in you. You can’t help but want more. But in the same breath, meeting his gaze will allude doom for you. 

San nods as he sits back at his desk, going right back to his computer. The silence continues for awhile and you’re surprised that you’re even able to concentrate. 

“Y/n”, you hear San call you. 

Your gaze doesn’t break from your screen. “Hmm?”

“Come here. Help me look at this.”

You walk over, ignoring the way your heart is just pounding so damn loudly. It’s painfully obvious that San is staring right at your face, and it’s also painfully obvious that you’re avoiding looking at him. 

And it definitely seems to be ticking him off. 

Your eyes stay locked to his screen reading off whatever is on the screen, and nothing is processing in your brain. 

“It looks good”, you curtly reply, trying to ignore the fact that you’re being stared down by a certain professor. You turn away, your eyes still not acknowledging San, only for your professor to stop you in your tracks. 

“Now where do you think you’re going?”

He’s making you face him now. 

You’re still not giving him eye contact. 

“Back to my desk?” You say, looking off into the distance. But San seems to have other plans. 

“You know ‘looks good’ isn’t the feedback I’m looking for, right?”

Shit. You know that clear as day. 

Now San has both his arms trapping you on his desk. 

You somehow still manage to avoid his sharp gaze even when you’re backing up against him, easily letting him corner you.

His belongings are strewn all over the desk when he pins you down. By some miracle, only papers flutter down his desk. 

And you’re finally looking right at him. 

“You’re finally looking at me, y/n”, he states the obvious. “Now tell me, did I do something wrong?” 

“No, you didn’t, sir”, you reply curtly. 

He leans in closer. 

“Then why are you avoiding my eye contact?”

You shut your eyes and squeeze them. There’s no pure way out of this—your dirty thoughts are seeping into the smallest crevices of your brain, and the more San is prodding you, the more it makes you throb.

“It’s because that evening when we…” you feel your cheeks burn with every word leaving your lips. 

San is waiting for you to continue. 

“When we kissed…couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“And?”

“It made me want…more.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Has anyone told you how adorable you are when you’re honest?” He chuckles. “I’m gonna finish what we started sweetheart, like I promised.”

It makes your heart flutter. 

“Am I getting your consent for this?”, San’s voice rings in your ears. You’re finding it hard to focus, especially when his thumb is pushing past the corner of your lips, and you’re just growing wet as fuck. 

This is not right. This is so dangerous. 

“Yes sir”, you reply back, trying to ignore the way your cunt is just tingling from the feeling of San’s thick erection pressing against you.

“That’s my good girl”, he praises before he dives in for a hungry kiss, his fingers roaming around your body, squeezing your tits before he unbuttons your shirt at an agonising pace. He smiles on your lips when he hears your soft gasp, and he presses his lips down to your jaw and then to your neck, sucking and biting the soft skin against your neck, his erection growing tighter against his trousers when he hears you moan and squirm. 

When he’s satisfied with the light marks he decorated down your neck, his lips are pressed against your ear, and his hands are moving dangerously close to your cunt, and inevitably, your bottoms are off in seconds, leaving you in your pretty panties. 

“I would prefer fucking you on my bed instead for the first time, but taking you on my desk? Maybe not too bad.”

Your cunt squeezes at the sound of San cussing. You never thought he’d sound this fucking hot. 

He groans when his fingers press against the soaked patch of fabric hiding your pussy. All that wetness for him. He bunches up the fabric and rubs it against your clit, the friction drawing frustrated whimpers from you, much to his satisfaction. It feels so good but it’s not enough, and it’s driving you crazy.

San’s fingers finally hook against the waistband of your panties, sliding them off your legs, and pocketing them, much to your shock. 

And he doesn’t give you much time to focus on that because when he pulls his cock out from his unzipped pants, it makes your head spin from how thick Choi San is. 

“Sir, I’m not sure-“

“It’ll fit, sweetheart, like it’s made for me”, is all the warning San gives before he lines up to your hole and pushes his cock in. 

You can’t tell what’s fucking you up more—the way his cock is stretching you open or the San groaning in relief when he finally gets to stuff you full. 

You bat away your tears, his cock so fucking full inside of you, pressing against your walls, being squeezed so perfectly by you. 

God, Choi San thinks he’s in heaven. 

His fingers brush across your cheeks, collecting your teardrops. His eyes lack any ounce of empathy. 

“Aw, are you crying because it feels good? You look so fucking pretty crying when I’m stretching you open.”

You barely find the words to reply to him, all stuck in your throat, your mind only flooded by the way San’s cock is buried in your cunt, your thighs trembling from the pleasure. It’s almost sickening. You know you shouldn’t be doing this—not with your professor, not on his fucking desk, but when he has you wrapped you around his finger and cock fucking the daylights out of you, it’s a temptation you can never resist. 

A soft hiccup escapes past your lips when San pulls out almost all the way, his cock covered in a sheen of slick and precum before he pushes himself in once more, groaning when you clench around him for the nth time. 

“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart. God, I could just fuck you all day. You’d like that right?”

You’re barely keeping track, eyes rolled to the back of your head while your thighs twitch from the pleasure, but you manage to hold the eye contact, and through blurry tears, you mutter a weak, “Yes sir”. 

“Of course you do”, San hums before he pulls out once more and starts fucking you dumb on his desk. 

No matter how much you try to cover your mouth, bite your tongue or your lip, your moans only come out louder in defiance, the dopamine shooting up your pussy over and over again whenever San’s cock hits your pretty spots. 

Your mind is addicted to the way San’s shirt is buttoned down his chest, his cleavage almost fully out for you to gawk at, the way strands of his hair cling to his forehead because of the sweat, the way his eyes roll back when he feels you squeeze him with every loud fuck, and the way he looks down to you from time to time before he eats up your pathetic moans with hungry kisses. 

He fucked you up so good, you didn’t even realise it until now. 

“S-San”, you manage out a whimper, “please…”

“Please what, sweetheart?”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for. 

“Please… you feel so fucking good. I’m gonna cum. It’s so fucking good”, you babble, trying to force your eyes open. 

San can’t help but smirk when his ego is being stroked so nicely like that, especially by you. He’s a good person, of course, he’ll give what his good girl wants. 

His thumb slides south on your body until you feel the ticklish sensation of him on your clit. Cream and precum pooling at the base of his cock makes it even worse for you—with every graze, his finger pressed onto your clit, the knot tightened in your stomach. 

Your nonsensical strings of words only push San to tease you more as he endearingly watches you break slowly when your orgasm builds up. 

Your body twitches, your back arches, your eyes roll back, white splashes beneath your eyelids. Your orgasm burning through you while you cry out San’s name and you twitch pathetically on his cock, letting your cream leak all over his wet cock. 

“Fuck. You’re such a good fucking girl for me, aren’t you?”, you hear San curse. He fucks you through your orgasm, the overstimulation building up. The sensitivity feels so fucking good. 

His hand catches your jaw, and he forces you to meet his eyes. 

“Wanna pump you full of my cum, keep you so fuckin’ full for days on end,” he huffs, “but not now, sweetheart.”

Not that you minded, but there’s a strange tinge of disappointment ringing at the back of your head. 

San thrusts into you a couple more times before he pulls out, his thick and wet cock resting on your pelvis, twitching as his hand takes over. 

Nothing can beat Choi San’s fucking face when he cums. He looks like he’s in fucking heaven, and he’s tearing up the sky because of you. His fingers leave light marks on your thighs, you hear him groan at such a low tone that your cunt flutters uselessly against the air. Translucent spurts land on your skin, but it barely registers in you—you’re too busy swooning over the way your Professor just cummed over your body. 

San’s high dies down, and he catches his breath, casting you a glance, red dusting his cheeks, before he reaches out for the tissue box to clean you up. 

A quick kiss on the lips before he goes on to collect all the papers all over the floor.

That night he drives you home, filling the space with light conversations as if he didn’t just railed you on his desk. 

It’s only when you reach home that you realise one important thing—San still has your panties. 

You know you shouldn’t be telling secrets to your colleague, especially when it’s about your fucking boss. But here you are, facing Jongho, who has his arms crossed in front of you. 

“What’s up with you and Prof?” You predict the words that leave his lips. 

You hesitate to tell him, unsure how you should even say it, where to even start. 

The worst part you knew clear as day was that nothing changed since that day. You chalked it off as San being swamped with assignments to deal with, that’s why the topic was never brought up again, but something still irked you. The only comfort you had was that the semester was ending, and so was your term as San’s teaching assistant. 

Maybe it was how it was meant to be. Just nothing more than that.

But when you realise the dreaded feeling prickling at the back of your eyes, you knew you were fucked. 

“I don’t know how to even start jjong”, you sigh. Jongho scrunches his eyebrows. 

You watch his expression switch from one to the other. You expected him to freak out at you, yell at you for unprofessionalism or something, but he doesn’t. 

“It’s so fucked up. But I just can’t help but wonder if he feels anything”, you mutter. The thought of you not being the only one he’s doing this with makes your stomach churn. But somehow, in the most twisted ways, confiding Jongho made you feel slightly better. 

“Well, looks like we’ll have to play that card I guess”, Jongho shrugs. “But you should mentally prepare yourself for the results, that’s all I gotta warn you. I just need your consent to play along.”

It’s a risky bet you’re playing, but drastic times called for drastic measures, right?

As the semester closes to its end, so does the workload. San feels a lot lighter on his shoulders, and while he’s grateful for his teaching assistants for lifting a significant amount of workload off him, the end of a semester meant the end of the working relationship between him and his teaching assistants. He usually doesn’t feel that much, considering he has had many teaching assistants in the past, but for some reason, he feels a sense of discomfort lodged in his stomach when he thinks about having to let them go.

Especially one of them. 

He sighs, removing his glasses from his nose and shutting his eyes while reviewing the exams. San feels like a fucking idiot when his eyes land on your empty desk, his frustration bubbling when you cross his mind again. 

Even though he pretends to keep himself busy by flooding his mind with work, somehow, you would bubble to the surface once more, pushing him into the pits of frustration when he’s reminded of the way you get a kick arguing and refuting him just to get a reaction out of him, the way you taste like sweetest thing on earth he’s ever tried and the way you completely unravel when San fucks every single thought out of you—

He bites his cheek. 

No. He has to keep it professional. At least, until the term is over. 

He just doesn’t know how to tell you. 

He knows he’s entered deep waters when he crossed the line that evening, the sight of you undone right before him snapping all his rationale. More than anything, he’s suffering the withdrawals, maybe that’s the punishment he has to bear. 

He glances at the colourful ticket at the corner of his desk. It’s Jongho’s big game. Even though he usually doesn’t let himself intertwine with his subordinate’s personal interests, it’s hard not to. 

In addition, you’ll be there. Maybe he’d snag you after the game and talk to you properly. 

The meeting ran overtime, San glances down at his silver watch, realising he’d missed almost thirty minutes of Jongho’s game. Despite the exhaustion, he pushes it aside and heads to the stadium. 

He watches the brightly lit scoreboard as he takes a seat on the bench, Jongho’s team is in the lead by one point. 

Somehow he gets wrapped up in the game, cheering when Jongho’s team takes championship as the benches all burst into loud cheers too. 

He gets up to leave, already thinking of drafting a text to congratulate Jongho in his head, maybe get him a small congratulatory gift on the side. 

Then he spots you, just rows below. Now, he’s walking down as if on instinct, to get to where you are.

San pushes past the crowd to approach you. He’ll offer to drive you back—he knows it’s all an excuse but anything to get you into his space once more. 

His arm outstretched, reaching out to tap your shoulder, then suddenly stopping when he sees Jongho appear right in front of you. That’s fine. San could just congratulate him at the same time—

Which all of those thoughts immediately disintegrate when he watches Jongho cup your cheeks with his hand, his eyes widening in complete silent horror as Jongho leans into you for a kiss. 

You seriously doubt that Jongho’s plan would work. Didn’t San decide not to come anyway? You heard it with your own ears too. 

Nonetheless, you pushed it to the back of your mind, focusing on cheering for your friend, watching the leading scorer jump from one team to the next. You couldn’t help but erupt into cheers when Jongho’s team won, screams echoing through the open stadium. 

You watch Jongho walk up to the benches where you are, and his arms wrap around you, his smile big and bright, competing with the stadium lights. 

“Congratulations, baby bear”, you tease, pushing against his shoulders lightly. Jongho inches close to you. 

“He’s behind you by the way”, Jongho mutters, loud enough for you to hear, but not long enough for you to process, because his hands are cupping your jaw, his thumb pressed against your lips. 

He hears you muffle some kind of question but your lips stay sealed. 

“You owe me one for this,” is the last thing you hear before he leans in. Your eyes widen in shock, and you freeze in your spot, even though his lips don’t meet yours, evidently separated by Jongho’s thumb, his action had caught you off guard.

You barely have the capacity to process what had just happened, and you feel someone’s warmth tightening against your wrist. 

Jongho lets go of you immediately, but you’re staring right at your professor, who is staring right at Jongho with an unreadable expression, with his fingers curled tightly against your wrist. It feels like an eternity since you saw him. He’s not wearing glasses today and his hair is down instead of his usual slicked-back look, donned with a simple dress shirt and tie which framed his wide shoulders so perfectly.

“Congratulations on your win, Choi Jongho. I believe you should be with your team to celebrate right?”

Jongho only smirks back. “Right. See you babe. Thank you, Prof. See you next week.”

Jongho casts you a glance, the mischief twinkling in his eyes before he turns his heel down the stairs and back to the field. 

What the fuck just happened?

And you find yourself staring up at the male before you, his gaze piercing into yours. 

“Prof—San?” You blink. “I thought you weren’t-“

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart. Why would I not want to see the cute relationship my teaching assistants have right?” His voice is laced with venom. 

San doesn’t really elaborate further, leading you to his car, sealing your fate once more when the passenger doors close shut. 

He’s all over you. His body is burning up, maybe just as fast as yours is, and it’s making you feel dizzy. His moves are aggressive, impatient and you swear you feel something else too—desperation. 

“S-San—“ you gasp, in an attempt to take control of something.

“It’s sir to you, sweetheart”, his voice low and gentle, but commanding. Goosebumps scatter across your skin, making you shiver in response when his palms slide up your waist. 

You never saw it coming—from the second his hand grabbed yours, pulling you away from Jongho, his eyes locked into yours for a moment before he turns to Jongho, then to the car ride back, where you noticed the way his knuckles turned pale from gripping the steering wheel. On the walk to his car, you asked him where you were going, and all he did was turn to you and reply, “We’ve got things to talk about, don’t we, sweetheart?”

Now you’re becoming undone once more under San’s touches, trapped beneath him like the first time, now at his place, on his fucking couch instead. 

“It was just foolish of me to just let it be, wasn’t it?” He asks. “Fucking you dumb on my desk wasn’t a good enough indicator, was it?”

“S-sir…!”

“And you think it’s cute getting all cuddly with Jongho? Letting him kiss you all over, touch you all over?” San mutters, his fingers wrapped around your throat, his grip tightening slightly and you’re sure he’s about to leave light imprints. 

But oh, was it so fucking exhilarating—the thought of Choi San riled up like that, a sight you’ve never seen before, and you’re not sure if fear or excitement running through your veins right now, but what you do know, is that if he finds out that your panties are completely soaked through, you’re fucking done for. 

His lips collide with yours again, branding himself as some kind of oxygen thief when he’s turning your mind into complete mush. 

“I’m not sure if it’s a little game to you sweetheart, but if it is, I think you need a reminder.”

You breathlessly look up at him, and he looks ethereal even when he’s panting and looking pissed as hell. 

“What reminder, sir?” You dare ask back. 

The side of San’s lips tugs upwards. His hand leaves your throat and trails down your blouse, effortlessly unbuttoning the apparel until he tugs it off you, panting at the sight of your tits hugged by your lace bra. Your bottoms are off again on the floor of his bedroom, alongside any ounce of rationale. Your soaked panties are agonisingly pulled off your legs, and before you know it, his hands spread them open too. It takes all of San’s self-control to not stuff you full. At least, not yet.

“It’s my cock you’re gonna cum all over. Even when you have another guy’s lips on yours, it’s my name you’re gonna fucking scream.”

Oh. Oh god. 

The pieces of what Jongho was trying to do suddenly come together, unfortunately, the realisation doesn’t last long because San has his lips greedily on yours again on top of the way his full-blown erection is pressing onto your pussy. 

“Sir”, you manage out a weak mutter when he finally pulls away, trying to press and grind against his clothed dick for some friction or anything to rid the burn that’s going through your body. But San remains still. 

“Use your words since you love using your mouth so much.” Like kissing Choi Jongho. 

Your mind is a complete puddle. 

“I really…fuck. I really need you to fuck me right now, sir”, you beg, red flushing your cheeks, but it’s not from the shame. There’s a feral glint in San’s eyes that you don’t miss. 

“No”, is all he answers, and you feel your heart drop to your stomach. 

“Not until I’ve fucked your mouth full, sweetheart.” 

All you can do is watch him speechlessly as he hooks his index finger on the knot of his tie and loosens it, unraveling it back to its original form. 

“Hands together”, he commands you, and you do so immediately, basking in the scent of his cologne while he leans into you, his hands tying knots around your wrists with his tie. “Don’t let it loosen, got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now on your knees.” 

You’ve never dropped to your knees so fast.

San forces you to watch him unbutton and lower the fly of his trousers, and you’re just doing your best not to get drool on his expensive carpet. 

When his cock springs out, you’re also forced to watch him fuck his palm at a slow pace, drinking in his groans, slick staining your inner thighs, and the fucking floor next if you don’t do anything. 

His cock is heavy against your cheek when he taps it there, and your tongue slips out of your mouth by instinct, given experimental kitten licks on his slit, before his fingers catch your chin, and he forces you to look up at him. 

“Look at me”, he instructs. 

You do. You do your best not to break the eye contact, trying not to be sidetracked by his big fucking cock, but your eyes can’t help but dart to his appendage. 

“No, keep your eyes on me”, he redirects once more, his fingers fixing your head in place. 

Then he slides his cock into your mouth and pulls out a choked moan from you. 

“That’s it. Good girl”, he grunts when you start bobbing your head, fucking his cock with your mouth. 

His fingers trail to the back of your head, but he’s using all of his strength not to force your head down. 

But as you pick up the momentum, it’s an automatic reaction to push your head down so his cock hits the back of your throat. Your eyes are watering but fuck you feel like you’re in fucking heaven. Your head spins whenever his wet cock is forced down your tight throat, and you break eye contact a few times, which San has to tap your jaw to make you keep eye contact while he fucks your face. 

“I’m cumming, sweetheart. Fuck. Keep that pretty little mouth open for me yeah?” He groans, bucking his hips, letting streaks of warm white paint your throat and mouth, watching the way you’re looking up at him with doe eyes, taking his cum in your mouth like a good girl. His good girl. 

He smudges his thumb against the corner of your lips before his arms carry you up, only to dump you on the couch.

Your back is on the couch again, hands still tied behind your back and legs up with San pressing his body weight on you.

He props your leg on his shoulder, and he stretches you open inch by inch. You gasp when he fills you up, your walls immediately clenching around him. 

“So fuckin tight for me, sweetheart. You take me so well.”

His thrusts are growing more aggressive mixed in with the possession that’s bleeding in and it’s setting your whole body on fire. Your words are caught in your throat when he’s buried into you to the hilt. He groans at the way your pussy is fluttering pathetically against him. 

It feels so fucking good that nothing but stars engulf your vision when his cock stuffs you full to the hilt again. His name leaves your lips like a mantra on top of broken moans and whimpers, and it only makes San fill up the space in your pussy all the more better. 

His shoulders are so wide that he’s towering over you, his fingers forcing you to face him whenever you’re drifting because of the pleasure, his eyes feral when you look so fucked out for him. And when he combines his heavy thrusts with a squeeze around your throat, it makes your mind shut off and your cunt cream all over his dick.

“Good girl, looking all so fucked out for me.”

 His cock is hitting all the perfect spots, and it’s driving you insane with the knot tightening in your stomach at such a fast pace. You think you’re sliding off the couch but San isn’t letting you—especially not when his thrusts are keeping you on the couch. His name continues to leave your lips in broken moans every time he fucks you. 

San snakes his fingers to your scalp and he tugs sharply, enough to force you to look up at him. You’re tearing up again, and it feels so fucking good with the way he’s keeping your hair tugged while he fucks the ever-loving shit out of you.

“My name does sound much better when you’re crying it doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

You choke back a moan when he hits your g-spot once more.

“Y-yes sir.” 

“How are you feeling?”

“Full. So full sir. Want more. Please. Need you to ruin me”, you beg once more, your mind floating in an endless euphoria.

“Oh, I definitely will”, San hums, watching in sheer pleasure as your eyes roll back when his cockhead presses perfectly against your g-spot over and over.

Before you realise it, your orgasm hits you like fucking train, spreading through your body like a fucking wildfire, engulfing every crevice of your body. 

He’s gonna break you, and you’re fucking loving it. 

“San-“, you cry out, not registering the way he’s wiping the tears off your eyes. “So good. You feel so good. Cumming so much-“ 

“I know, sweetheart. It feels so fucking good doesn’t it?” He asks with a smile, satisfied when you nod frantically while he rubs your thighs.

Your thighs are shaking from how good this all feels, cream staining your inner thighs and his cock when he pulls out. 

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart”, San reminds you. 

He turns you over, keeping one hand on your tied hands, while the other pressing your head against the back of the couch. He lines his cock back to your cunt, pushing into your hole once more. You choke on your moans again, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes until he’s fully seated in you once more. 

The sounds are even wetter now, especially when you’re overstimulated, pussy just being so perfectly abused by Choi San. You fucking love the way his hands are around your neck, forcing you against the cushions when he fucks you dumb from the back. 

Your stomach is in knots once more, the feeling building up faster than the previous time, and all you can mutter is that it feels so good. San thinks you’re so fucking adorable when you’re not having banters with him and being this cock drunk for him. 

Then he pulls you off the couch, letting you catch a breath before he sits you on his lap, his cock still buried in your cunt, and starts bouncing you off his cock from below.

He alternates between melting your brain with his pornographic moans right at your ear and planting more love bites down your jaw. 

“Gonna cum again. You feel so fucking good in me. Oh god”, you hiccup through your tears, the sensitivity pushing your limit. 

“Cum as hard as you want, sweetheart. I’ll let you milk me dry, fill you up so fucking good that you’ll be leaking with my cum for the next two days.” 

That was enough to set you off. Your pussy convulses when your second orgasm hits, fireworks bursting in your eyelids, long drawn-out cries while San fills your tight cunt with his warm and thick cum, while his groans fill up in your ears. You feel his fingers massaging your thighs, coaxing you from your high. 

You’re dizzy, and light-headed as your head slumps against his shoulders, too spent to acknowledge the male behind you leaving more marks down your neck. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” San breaks the momentary silence, well aware that his softening cock is still in you. 

Your hand flies up to his chest to stop him, even though you’re still recovering from seeing stars. 

“We need to talk-“

“After we clean up”, he cuts you off, lifting you off his cock and carrying you bridal style to his bathroom. 

But you’re stubborn. 

“N-no. It wasn’t what you thought it was”, you say, feeling your tears well up in your eyes on top of the weight. 

The prickles are starting to form at the bottom of San’s heart, but he’s more focused on trying to hose you down with warm water. But he’s listening you run your mouth, not that he minded. 

“We didn’t kiss”, you reiterate. 

Now he’s just confused. He stares at you. 

“We just had sex, y/n”, San reminds you, trying not to let the red reach his cheeks. 

“No—I mean Jongho and I. We didn’t kiss”, you clarify.

San doesn’t really know if he should believe your words or his eyes, but now he’s focused on lathering your hair and body. 

“That wasn’t what I saw”, he replies, avoiding eye contact. 

“That’s cause we did this-“ you huff, turning his head to face you, imitating the way Jongho had slid his thumb between your lips and his, demonstrating San the fake kiss. 

San only stares at you wordlessly when you pull back, only more questions than answers. 

“But why would he do that for?”

“He was trying to rile you up.”

“For what?”

“To see if you felt anything for me?”

“By kissing you?”

Oh god. It felt like the more you explained, the more San was getting the wrong ideas. You let your head sit in your hands, unsure if it’s from the embarrassment or the fact that you don’t even know where to start. 

“It wasn’t a kiss, Choi San”, you groaned, your hands leaving your face, suddenly self-conscious that San is staring intently at you. “After we, um, fucked the first time, you acted like nothing happened, and I felt like shit about it, and I told Jongho and then…” you trail off, feeling your cheeks heat up again. It’s probably the hot water, at least that’s what you try to convince yourself with.

“I don’t kiss people I’m not in love with, San”, you sigh in defeat. Your eyes are downcast, but you feel his fingers cup your cheeks, and his lips press onto yours. You swear you could go another round again. 

The silence hangs in the air for a while, only the sounds of the shower filling the emptiness when he pulls back. 

“I didn’t do anything since after that evening because I wanted to properly tell you after the term ended.”

“Tell me what?”

“That I’m in love with you, too.”

You blink. Somehow that shocked you more than the both times he fucked your brains out. 

You don’t answer him because your head is just swarming with so many thoughts, and San lets you do so, satisfied that he’s finally have you quieten down so he can finish washing you up. 

Even when he’s dressed you in his oversized hoodie, San peppers you with kisses, basking in the way you sometimes cover his face with your hands to stop him, which only rouses him to continue to attack you with his lips.

San’s arms are tight around you when the both of you are finally on his bed. You smell like his favourite body soap and he can’t seem to get enough of it—nuzzling against the crook of your neck, muttering sweet nothings. You think this is probably your favourite version of Professor Choi. 

Your fingers twirl around his splayed-out locks, and you speak. 

“Prof Choi”, you tease, and San looks up, and it’s the first time you actually see him pout—it almost makes you combust. 

“I told you to stop calling me that”, he frowns, burying his face, feigning trying to cut off physical contact from you, which only makes you laugh in response. 

“I just wanted to disturb you”, you respond, trying to yank him back into your arms. “I do have a question though.”

His head pops up from his pillows and he stares at you, waiting for you to speak. 

“When did you realise you had feelings for me?”

He pauses, giving himself a couple of minutes to think. 

“The moment I received your teaching assistant application.”

📚 Bonus Epilogue 📚

“Prof Choi!” One of his teaching assistants calls out to him. 

He turns his head and attention to her, pushing up his glasses. 

“Yes?” 

“I need help with this part of the assignment. Could you help me check that I’ve marked it correctly?”

San nods, taking the papers from her. 

As he scans through her work, the teaching assistant’s eyes glance down at the band hugging his ring finger. 

“Prof, you’re married?”

San pauses his writing to glance at the glistening gold on his finger, and a small smile spreads across his cheeks. 

“You know, I used to wear a ring on my ring finger so students would stop asking me if I was married or not.”

She raises her eyebrows, her curiosity piqued. “So you’re not?”

“I am.”

Her eyes brighten, invested in her handsome professor’s love story. 

“Tell me more then”, she asks. 

San scoffs playfully, turning his gaze to her. 

“All I can tell you is that she’s always been my favourite.”

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[wonusite]

Cat and Mouse

❝ Wonwoo doesn’t understand why you’re so adamant in avoiding him after the amazing night you two spent together, but he’s not going to let you get away from him so easily. ❞

PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x female reader

GENRE: bad boy au, smut

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

WARNINGS: bad boy!wonwoo, allusions of illicit activities, descriptions of minor injuries, wonwoo is down HORRENDOUS, reader is in denial about her feelings, our bad boi is soft for one (1) person, mutual pining, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, riding, multiple creampies, overstimulation, mating press, aftercare

ㅤ→ continuation of this timestamp

A/N: here’s a little something to celebrate one year with this blog. very grateful to all my followers and mutuals who’ve made this past year amazing! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Wonwoo glares at his phone, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek in annoyance.

It’s been a week. An entire fucking week without hearing from you. He knew he should’ve ignored Jihoon’s calls and stayed in bed with you that night, but when he sent a message saying the entire crew needed to be there, he couldn’t ignore it. Now, he really wishes he would have.

The night he spent with you was the most incredible of his life, and now he might never relive it because he left in a haste, only leaving you with a brief kiss and a promise to come back.

“You still torn up over that sweet lil’ thing from that flower shop?” Seungcheol's voice has never sounded more irritating than it does now.

“That’s Shua’s girl, dumbass.”

Being on the receiving end of that mean tone and angry glare doesn’t faze Seungcheol in the slightest. In fact, it only causes his infamous smirk to get wider. To see the stoic Jeon Wonwoo acting up over a girl is not only a rarity, but it’s also really fucking funny. That’s why he can’t resist pushing Wonwoo’s buttons further.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Seungcheol cackles. “Guess you better hurry up and help us finish this shit. Her shift ends soon.”

Wonwoo can feel his irritation near that boiling point he could usually avoid. Of course Seungcheol knows about your schedule. That asshole has the annoying habit of knowing everything about anyone who is even the tiniest bit associated with the crew. Sure, it’s for precautionary reasons, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Nonetheless, Wonwoo focuses on the task at hand so he can catch you before you leave work.

Jeon Wonwoo is the bane of your existence.

From the moment he first came around with that stupidly attractive smirk of his, your life was never the same. And now that you fucked him, it never will be again.

Giving into your carnal desires isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but getting mixed up with the likes of Jeon Wonwoo definitely is. Despite not knowing all of the grimy details, you know he’s bad news. You can see all the red flags clearly—the people he hangs around, all the fights he gets in, and the tattoos littering his body. And yet, none of those warning signs mattered now or when Wonwoo was ravishing you in a way that still made your toes curl just by thinking about it.

Maybe the worst part of it all is that you can’t get the resident bad boy out of your head, or the way he held you after you two had sex. It’s like you can still feel how he nuzzled into your neck, strong arms tightening around you like he never wanted to let you go. Part of you hopes that he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t had some urgent business to take care of. It’s a dangerous thought, but even so you can’t help but crave that uncharacteristically sweet side of him that he presumably only showed you.

A displeased sigh comes out of you as you gather your things to go home. It’s bad enough that you can’t stop thinking about Wonwoo, but to think that you’re actually pining over him even though he literally disappeared after your night together is—

“Y/N left already.”

It’s Mingyu’s voice you hear at first, and it makes you stop in your tracks. You wonder who could be asking for you until you hear someone answer him. It feels like your heart is going to jump out of your chest when you hear a familiar deep voice that has your stupid pussy clenching in anticipation.

“Alright. Thanks.”

You peek out from the back when you hear the door chime. It’s annoying that your chest tightens when you see a set of wide shoulders draped in a leather jacket walking toward the large motorcycle parked outside. The way your mind goes blank yet is also clogged with nothing but thought of Wonwoo is infuriating. You don’t realize you’re pouting at the exit until Mingyu jumps back in shock at seeing your sulking figure.

“Y/N what– I thought you left!” He says, vaguely gesturing behind him. “You just missed your boyfriend! I think he wanted to take you home—”

“Boyfriend?” You interrupt him, not entirely angry or disgusted that your coworker had referred to Wonwoo as such.

Mingyu furrows his eyebrows. “Yeah? The scary dude with the leather jacket that comes in here all the time just to see you. He’s your boyfriend, right?”

It’s almost mortifying that your sweet but oblivious coworker can tell that there was something going on between you and the resident bad boy. And yet, there’s also a part of you that likes the fact that Wonwoo is so obvious about his feelings. You don’t know what to make of these conflicting emotions that you can’t seem to shake, and seeing Wonwoo (even just the back of him) didn’t help you find the clarity you so desperately need.

“Well, even if he’s not, he definitely wants to fuck you.” Mingyu says with a wink as he brushes past you to check on the pastries he had put in the oven ten minutes ago.

You wonder how he would react if you told him that Wonwoo already has.

Wonwoo thinks you’re the cutest person ever. And the part of you he finds the most cute? The fact that you actually think he’s going to let you avoid him forever. You’re good at it, he’ll give you that (even if he can see right through your every method).

It’s funny that you actually change your off days and regular working hours just to avoid seeing him and throw him off, which it does—at first. He knows you haven’t quit because Josh mentioned seeing you at the bakery when he went to buy the love of his life a cake for her birthday. This is confirmed when he goes to see for himself the next day.

Maybe you don’t realize Wonwoo can see you run to the back through the large glass windows when you hear his motorcycle, but either way he thinks it’s funny. Actually, it’s hilarious because soon enough you were going to give into him like before.

Meanwhile, you feel like a mouse being preyed on by a sly cat—one that’s toying with you before he finally catches you. Avoiding Wonwoo had been easy at first, but now you’re starting to wonder if he had let it seem easy.

“Babydoll.”

You almost drop a tray of croissants when you hear a familiar deep voice calling for you. The way you whip around with a gaping mouth must be hilarious because Wonwoo just smirks at you in that infuriating way that drives you crazy. Your hands tighten around the tray as you snap your mouth closed, trying to contemplate on how to navigate the situation.

With a bit of a mental pep talk, you finally manage to put up that happy to help attitude you usually had with every other customer. The smile you give him feels exaggerated and fake, but it’s the only way you can mask all the emotions you’re feeling.

“What can I get for you?”

That devilish smirk widens as Wonwoo pretends to skim all the delicious pastries in the case before he sets his smoldering eyes back on you. “This all looks good,” he muses quietly, but you can hear him perfectly since it’s only you two. “But I think you’re the only thing that can satisfy my hunger.”

It kills you that his words make you heat up from the inside out. You ignore him and start to put the croissants into the case. The clench of your jaw is tight and bordering on painful, but it’s the only way you can keep your emotions from spilling over for him to see.

Unfortunately, your lack of response doesn’t really faze him. One thing you’ve come to learn about Wonwoo is that he’s never uncomfortable in the silence. You wish you could say the same. You’re nearly squirming by the time you’re done placing the croissants in their designated space because he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you once.

Finally, you look up to meet Wonwoo’s gaze. It’s so intense that you almost want to look away. However, there’s a part of you that loves being under the heat of his stare since you can clearly see the desire he has for you.

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

“You’ve been gone.” You counter, vaguely aware that you sound like a sulking girlfriend.

Wonwoo realizes this too because he gently coos at you. “Missed me, babydoll?”

Yes. “You wish.”

It’s obvious Wonwoo doesn’t believe you. That stupid smirk of his only seems to get bigger with every passing moment, and you don’t know if you want to kiss it or smack it off his face.

“I missed you.” He tells you honestly, loving how you’re visibly growing flustered with his words.

Resisting him would be a lot easier if he wasn’t so tempting to you and if the feelings he always evoked from you weren’t so strong. Before you can say anything to betray your easily crumbling facade, Mingyu comes out from the back with a tray of small cakes. Wonwoo gives you a once over before stepping away from the case.

“I’ll be back after your shift. Wait for me.”

You don’t wait for him—technically. It’s not waiting since Wonwoo is already outside of the bakery when your shift ends. He’s clad in his leather jacket, dark jeans, and signature combat boots. It’s not fair that he can lean against his bike so casually while looking as good as ever.

Ignoring him would’ve been all too easy, but you can’t when you notice the bruises and cuts on his pretty face. A familiar irritation bubbles in your chest, but annoyingly enough, it’s overpowered by the concern you feel. You react before you can fully think your actions through.

“What the hell!”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen the tiniest bit when you stomp over to him with angry tears in your eyes. You can’t even enjoy his cute shocked face because of the overwhelming concern and anger you feel. All you can do is hit his brawny chest in frustration.

“You—You asshole!” Your voice cracks with raw emotion as you continue to weakly hit his chest. “You said– you promised that you weren’t going to fight anymore—!”

Wonwoo lets you hit him. His chest aches, but not because of your soft blows. The last thing he meant to do was make you cry, and it’s something he wishes to never see again. His large hands come up to cup your face, fingers delicately wiping your tears. “I know I should’ve kept my promise, and I’m sorry. Just please don’t cry anymore.”

You let out a quiet whimper at his tenderness. His eyes are full of so much remorse and concern that it makes any remaining willpower you have left disappear. It feels right to bury yourself in his chest and let yourself be held by him. He caresses your back, and you can’t hate that it actually makes you feel better.

Once you’ve calmed down, you pull back and smack Wonwoo’s beefy chest again. “Asshole.”

“Your asshole.” His haze is tender as he cradles your tearstained cheek in his hand.

You scowl at him, but it’s quickly wiped off your face when he places a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth. A sudden desire consumes you when you see Wonwoo’s affectionate gaze. This time you let yourself be driven by your desire and press your lips against his.

It’s easy for him to melt into the kiss. Wonwoo sighs into your mouth as one of his hands comes up to cup your face. His rings feel cool against your warm skin, and you let out a quiet moan when his other hand slips into the back pocket of your jeans and squeezes your ass while pulling you closer to him.

The kiss is slow at first until your hands smooth over Wonwoo’s chest and fist his shirt to pull him closer. You part your lips to allow his tongue to slip into your mouth. It feels like you got struck by a bolt of electricity the longer his lips are on yours. His desire and hunger are evident in his needy movement, and you absolutely love it.

When you two finally pull away, you’re left breathless. Wonwoo’s thumb gently caresses your cheek as his heart pounds harshly in his chest. “Stay the night with me, babydoll.”

“M’kay.” You breathe out, mind still swimming.

The smile he gives you is so pretty that it makes something inside you burn with ardent desire. You feel like you’re floating on air when Wonwoo hands you a spare helmet that happens to be your favorite color. He looks bashful as he waits for you to accept it, and you wish you could take a picture of his pretty blush.

In spite of all the reasons you have not to take the helmet from him, you still do. And you don’t regret it.

You’ve never allowed yourself to regret the things that you’ve done because life is too short for regrets. But you definitely regret avoiding Wonwoo as long as you have, especially with the way he’s trailing his lips along your legs. Every wet kiss he leaves behind has your heart hammering and your cunt clenching in want.

Finally, Wonwoo gets to your inner thighs. His large hands spread you open with ease, eyes dark when he sees your wet pussy.

“Fuck.” His gaze fixed between your legs as if he's in a trance. “You’re already so wet.”

Your toes curl when his breath ghosts over your cunt. It sends delicious shivers throughout your body, and you have to stop yourself from bucking your hips into his face. But as you’re starting to learn, it seems like Wonwoo knows what you want before you even ask for it.

“You want my mouth, babydoll?”

Wonwoo nearly blows his load when you nod cutely, a needy mewl escaping your lips. “Please.”

He hooks your legs over his wide shoulders, thumbs spreading your folds open for his viewing pleasure. Wonwoo resists his ravenous desire for you long enough to toy with your pretty pussy before he actually tastes it—a luxury he hadn’t gotten to do last time. His rough hands are soon occupied with you, one hand pinching and flicking your sensitive clit while the other gently rubs your slippery folds.

“Fuck, baby.” You whine, biting down on your lower lip. “Feels so good.”

Your cunt is dripping with so much of your arousal that Wonwoo’s fingers are drenched as he slowly rubs circles against your aching bud. It’s throbbing and pulsing in need as his pace grows the tiniest bit quicker. You can’t even try to contain your moans as you stare down at your boyfriend.

Wonwoo has a huge smirk on his pink lips. You’re making such a mess on his fingers, and he just loves it. “You look so fucking cute when your squirm like this, babydoll.”

A needy whimper tumbles past your lips when he presses a gentle kiss to your throbbing clit. It pulses under the attention like it wants his mouth again. Wonwoo’s pupils are blown wide as he licks the remnants of your arousal off his lips. The addicting taste makes his control snap, and in the next second he smashes his face into your cunt like a starved man.

Your hips start move on their own as Wonwoo groans deeply into your drooling pussy. His mouth latches onto your clit, massaging the nub with his tongue. The movements are skilled and toe-curling, and you already feel like you’re fucked out.

“Wonwoo!” You cry out in absolute pleasure when he slips two fingers inside you.

His long fingers work your cunt open, curling up to rub the sensitive spot inside you that made you arch your back in ecstasy. Your mouth is dropped open in a silent min the longer Wonwoo fucks you with his tongue. He captures your juices with his tongue only to slobber them all over you again. Your hands grab ahold of his hair as he keeps moaning into your wet pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine with every one of his movements.

All it takes his his nose bumping against your clit as he licks around his pumping digits for you to come all over his face. Wonwoo groans into your creamy cunt, licking up every drop of your release.

“So fucking messy.” He grunts as his hand spreads your folds and exposes your heat to the cool air. His fingers trail down your cunt, tenderly rubbing along your sensitive lips. “Fuck, just look at that cream."

You can’t contain your needy moan when Wonwoo brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. He’s so fucking hot that you just want him to fuck you until you can’t think. Before you can get him to do exactly that, a heavy weight settles on your soppy cunt. His cock is hot and wet as it slides between your folds.

“You feel so good, angel.” Wonwoo groans as he thrusts forward, coating the underside of his dick with your arousal. “So fucking wet, just for me.”

The mouthwatering sight of your folds splitting open as he slides his cock between them makes him feel like he’s drunk. Maybe he is. Drunk on your pussy, that is. He only gets to enjoy the feeling for a second before you eagerly buck your hips against his.

“Let me ride you.”

It’s a miracle that Wonwoo doesn’t come all over your stomach at the words you moaned so desperately. He’s quick to get into position, leaning against his headboard as you hover above him. You look so eager as you straddle his lap, the love bites he littered all over your thighs giving him a sense of pride as he brushes his thumbs over them.

Wonwoo’s free hand reaches for your ass. He roughly kneads the skin before slapping it. You moan out in pleasure. Everything is almost too much for you to handle. The sight of him bellow you waiting patiently for you to fuck him like the first time is making your core throb with insatiable desire. His cock rests on his stomach, leaking with precum and waiting for you to sit on it.

The hottest part of it all is how Wonwoo’s looking at you with unadulterated desire and affection—like you’re a living goddess on top of him. Your hands are splayed over his muscular chest, and he just loves the feeling of them smoothing over his hot skin.

His hands move on their own, caressing your hips and mapping out every inch of your body with his rough hands. Wonwoo kisses any part of you he can reach, lips trailing from your neck down to your collarbones. His large hands slip back to your ass to deliver a sharp spank which makes you fall forward. Wonwoo skillfully captures one of your tits in his mouth, tongue immediately gliding over your hardened nipple.

“Nonu!” You cry out as your arms hook over his shoulders to keep him close, softly moaning as he switches between your tits, warm tongue swirling around each erect nub.

The cute little nickname makes his cock twitch. Fuck. You were going to drive him completely insane.

He gently nips at your sensitive bud before pulling away to look up at you. “You look so fucking pretty on top of me, babydoll.” He murmurs, forcing himself to stay still as you shift against his leaking tip.

His sweet praise is enough to make your pussy flutter. You mewl as he teasingly circles his cock against your pussy. The insistent nudges from his leaking head are making your head swim with pleasure. You’re so soaked at this point that he can feel your arousal start to stick to his skin.

Finally, you can’t resist any longer and slowly sink down on his cock. Your tight walls stretch wide, welcoming the bulbous head with just a bit of resistance. It’s been almost two weeks, and you’d already forgotten it felt to have such big and thick dick inside you. His cock isn’t even halfway inside yet, and you can nearly feel him in your stomach.

You sit back and slowly circle your hips, throwing your head back with a moan when his twitching tip nudges your walls repeatedly. Wonwoo feels like he’s gone and died to heaven with the filthy show you’re giving him of your soppy cunt. He curses quietly at the sight of your tight cunt clinging to his fat tip, nearly blowing his load at the erotic sight.

“Show me what you can do, pretty girl.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. With a wanton moan and your hands braced behind you, you slide all the way down. You whimper at the stretch, loving the feeling of his thick cock splitting you open. Mewls flutter from your lips, and it feels like the oxygen is slowly being forced out of your lungs.

Once he’s fully inside you, Wonwoo is sure that he’s never going to feel as good as he does now. His head is thrown back and his eyes roll to the back of his head. The feeling of your hot cunt wrapped around him is absolute heaven. You share in his feeling as you moan loudly, completely full and stretched out as he grips your ass to steady you on his dick.

Wonwoo can’t stop looking at the fucked out look on your face while you’re busy staring down at where your pussy and his cock meet. You don’t notice how his pupils are blown out with lust at the sight of you impaled on his cock. His heart fluttering in his chest because fuck, you’re like a literal goddess on top of him.

“Shit, babydoll. You gotta move.” He sounds out of breath, almost needy with his plea.

Wonwoo looks so fucked out and pretty that your pussy tightens around him at the hot sight. That's all it takes for you to give him what he wants. You lift your hips before slamming your ass back down. His cock reaches so deep inside you that you throw you head back with a loud cry. It makes you ravenous, and you eagerly repeat your movements until your practically bouncing on his cock.

You lean towards him and wrap your arms around his neck, your pace faltering a bit when your lips meet his neck. As you litter his skin with wet kisses and gentle bites, you feel his cock throb and twitch inside you. It makes you think that you might actually get him to come first this time.

At least, until Wonwoo commits the tender act of pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder, removing a hand from your ass to gently thumb at your clit.

“Fuck, Nonu.” You whimper at the stimulation. “You’re so deep.”

“Missed having you on my cock, babydoll. You look so fucking pretty being split open like this.” His fingers trace your stretched hole before they slap your clit.

You moan wantonly when Wonwoo suddenly thrusts up, going impossibly deeper. That’s when you know he's about to ruin you in the way you’ve been craving. You shove your face into his neck, sucking and biting his skin so he can move you on his cock in the way he wants. Apparently, this isn’t enough for him, though.

Wonwoo grips your face, pressing his fingers into your cheeks. “Need to see your pretty face while I fuck you stupid.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he’s gripping your ass and grinding you on his cock. His fingertips press into your soft flesh as he lifts you and brings you down his length. You start bouncing to meeting his pumps. Broken mewls contrast with Wonwoo’s groans and mix in the the sound of lewd squelching and skin slapping. His abs tighten every time you come back down, thighs flexing beneath your ass.

Your swollen clit rubs against his pelvis with every thrust, and the feeling is quickly driving you insane. The knot in your stomach is coming undone fast, much faster than you want, but you feel too good to stop. Wonwoo isn’t doing much better. His mind is only full of you and the way your hot cunt is gripping his cock. The carnal look in his eye is locked to where you’re connected. He’s mesmerized with strings of arousal connecting his skin to your dripping folds.

“You look so fucking pretty when you’re bouncing on my cock—just like last time. Gonna let me pump your pretty pussy full again, babydoll?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cry out mindlessly, a delicious ache blooming in your core. “Whatever you want!”

You can’t believe Wonwoo has the audacity to blush like you two aren’t literally fucking like animals. It makes you gush around him, orgasm so close that you can feel it in every inch of your body.

“God, baby. Keep fucking yourself stupid on my dick.” He growls as he fucks up into you harder, needing to see you come undone on his cock.

The leaking tip of his cock brushes against your sweet spot over and over again until your eyes gloss over like you’re on the brink of tears. Wonwoo will never get enough of that fucked out face of yours, and it drives that insatiable desire in him to fuck you impossibly harder.

It takes only a few more deep thrusts for you to come on his cock with a loud moan. Your body shudders and shakes against him in absolute pleasure. Wonwoo’s movements don't stop. He fucks you through your orgasm and straight into overstimulation. But you can’t really care because it feels so fucking good. All you can do is cry out his name until he’s emptying his balls inside you.

“Y/N!” He groans into your ear as he pumps you full of his hot cum, thick ropes filling you to the brim until it’s leaking out and coating his heavy sack.

You’re gently grinding into each other as your mouths meet for a messy kiss. Wonwoo’s still-hard cock keeps twitching inside you, and you can’t help but groan into his mouth at the feeling.

“More.” You plead against his lips. “Want you to keep stuffing me full of your cum.”

“Fuck, angel.” Wonwoo pants out. “You’ll be the death of me.”

But if this was death, he’d gladly embrace it every time.

Wonwoo moves down the bed until his back meets the messy sheets. With his hands secured on your waist and the back of your neck, he pulls you down to his chest and forces you to take every inch of his throbbing cock. At this angle, he feels even thicker. Your mind goes blank as his fat dick spears into your tight hole relentlessly.

Wet noises fill the room, dancing in the air with your wanton cries. A white ring forms at the base of his cock, smearing down to his loaded sack. Wonwoo moans along with you, large hands sliding down your body to grip fistfuls of your ass. You let out a broken gasp when he grinds up and pulls you down, stuffing you to the brim only to do it again and again.

You’re panting and whimpering as his cock sinks in deep, plugging your dripping cunt. Tingles of ecstasy course through your quivering body with ever snap of his hips. You aren’t even moving anymore, it’s all Wonwoo. He’s fucking you on his cock like you're his personal fucktoy. The more you think about it like that, the more turned on you’re getting.

Your hot cunt tightens around his veiny cock. The drag of his veiny length stretching you out makes more of your juices coat his dick and spill down to his heavy balls. Wonwoo shudders when he feels how tight you keep getting. He can feel his own high quickly approaching.

“You gonna come for me again, babydoll? Soak my cock with your cream and make a mess all over me?” Wonwoo changes the angle of his hips as he speaks his lewd words. The tip of his cock slams into the soft spot inside you that makes you scream in pleasure. He keeps pounding into you from below without stopping, and you love every second of it.

“Fucking love your cock.” You babble mindlessly, any and every thought that’s not about the fat cock splitting you open being fucked out of you.

“Sweet little cunt is all mine now.” Wonwoo growls possessively. “Gonna be mine forever, right, baby?”

It’s all too much. His filthy yet sweet words combined with his fierce thrusts make you fall over that edge and into your orgasm, this one more powerful than the last. Your body erupts in flames as you squirt all over Wonwoo’s aching cock. He keeps you locked on his dick, balls slapping against your ass as he continues to pound into your gushing cunt.

“So fucking good.” Wonwoo groans gutturally before his hot cum floods your ruined cunt, painting your stretched out walls and claiming you in every sense of the word.

So much of his cum spills out and trickles down his pulsing cock, and you whimper when Wonwoo fucks it deeper into your pussy. You’re both sweaty and sticky, yet there’s still a burning ache in your core that seems like it can only be soothes by Wonwoo and his big cock.

“Want it again.” You moan into his ear, clenching down on his twitching dick. “Please.”

This is where you learn that the resident bad boy can never tell you no.

You barely process him flipping you over and manhandling you into the position he wants. Wonwoo presses your legs against your chest and start to pound into you with rough thrusts. He’s slow but brutish, slamming against your cervix every time he pushes in. Your cream soaks his thick cock and your inner thighs. It slowly drips down to your ass where his heavy balls slap against the tender skin.

“Fuck, babydoll. I’ll never get enough of this tight little pussy.” He sounds so gone, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust.

You cry out each time, the pleasure blooming into that delicious feeling in your stomach. Wonwoo’s words have you clenching around his dick, and he lets out a deep groan. He keeps moaning out praises about how good you are for him, but it’s hard to focus on his words when his thick cock is pummeling into you relentlessly.

You continuously gush around Wonwoo’s cock on the brink of yet another orgasm as you leave a stain around the base. Your pussy is stretched beyond belief, and it feels so fucking good that’s it’s making you delirious.

“I’m gonna have to stuff this pretty pussy full every day.” Wonwoo moans, loving how your cunt keeps spasming around his throbbing cock. He’s fantasised about this for so long, and now that he’s had you he’s completely addicted to you.

“Fuh-Fuck!” You wail, soaking his cock even more at his promise, leaving it dripping.

Wonwoo’s thrusts grow more powerful and ravenous. The pretty sounds you’re letting out every time he drives in and out of you is driving him insane. It’s not long for the harsh snapping of his hips to finally send you into your climax. This one is more somehow more intense than your previous one. Wonwoo groans loudly, watching as you squirt all over his cock.

Each time Wonwoo strokes your g-spot, another gush of liquid spurts from your core. “You’re so fucking hot, angel. Making a mess all over my cock.”

“Come inside me.” You beg with a loud moan, mind already so far gone to think about anything else but being fucked full of his hot cum.

Your lewd plea only drives his desire for you. Wonwoo feels his orgasm approaching with every rough thrust. His balls are aching to be emptied again, and he doesn’t hesitate to chase that euphoric feeling. Your pussy is practically begging him to fill you up with his seed, and he does exactly that. With one final shove, he bottoms out inside you and stills, cock twitching and throbbing in your hot cunt.

A huge load of cum pours into you, coating your walls and taking up the minimal space his cock hasn’t covered. Wonwoo slowly fucks it into you until you’re both whimpering from the overstimulation.

When he pulls out, his cum and your cream slowly leak out of your messy cunt. The fucked out pants you’re letting out are quickly stifled by Wonwoo's lips. You moan into his mouth as he slowly lets go of your legs and hooks them around his hips.

Pulling away, you barely register as he starts to tenderly kiss all over your body. You’re completely sated and too gone to acknowledge your surroundings even as Wonwoo gets up and brings back a warm towel. He gently cleans you up, whispering sweet praises that make you feel a different type of euphoria.

“Hold me, Nonu.” You finally manage to say when you realize he’s done cleaning the both of you up.

His smile is so pretty and precious as he goes to lay with you. The way he cradles you against his chest is comforting, and you know that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ohwonwoo

[yandere-sins]

Love so toxic, it burns.

In where Diluc (my beloved) realizes he cannot endure one more day apart from you.

[Continuation of this]

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairings: Yandere!Diluc x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Non-Con turning into Dub-Con, Nipple teasing, Fondling, Bareback Sex, Creampie, Being dominated, Light dirty talk), Forced Relationship, Obsessive Love, Kidnapping, Long Post Prompt: @sintember I love you - I do I do I do I do I do.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««   

Your back hit the mattress, the most luxurious softness money could buy enveloping you while the grip of the most deranged, unstable mind you knew around your wrists tightened, drawing you back to reality. It felt like a fever dream, a nightmare. Finding your captor, the bane of your existence, in your room—your closet of all places—was bad enough. Cock strutting from his loosely opened pants, squirting hot semen all over your freshly washed body, was nothing short of the most horrifying experience you could have ever imagined.

And it didn't stop there.

Awfully aware of the bareness of your skin, shame in the form of heat pooled inside your head, making you burn from the inside out. You'd underestimated Diluc, thought him to be prim and proper, when really, you should have realized a long time ago what kind of beast he was. A force to be reckoned with, an animal waiting to pounce. All this time, you deemed him mad but harmless. You, on the other hand, had always been vulnerable, helpless, and exposed to his desires. You had chosen to be ignorant.

Oh, how wrong you had been.

"Let me go!" you demanded, and although ashamed, you looked Diluc straight into his eyes. There wasn't much besides a fiery glow, the red resembling rubies, smothered in flames and fueled by a sickening affection. Even when you strained your wrists in his grasp, his fingers tightening every time you freed an inch from his hold, he didn't seem to hear you, perhaps ignoring you deliberately.

You watched him swallow hard, the most recognition you had received until now, yet he didn't move. Didn't say a word. His tongue appeared between his lips, and you thought he was going to kiss you, so you reflexively turned your head away. But instead, his head lowered to your chest, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth.

Jolting, you arched your back, your body pressing upwards. Your breast molded against Diluc's face, and he moaned into it, your whole ribcage shuddering from the sound. He slipped one hand off your wrists and captured the mound from below, sucking on your nipple with even better access. And you hit back, your now free palm slamming into his shoulder repeatedly, trying to pry him off.

When his teeth found hold, you stilled in shock, gasping.

The slamming of your hand turned into nails digging into Diluc's exposed neck, clawing red marks into his skin to the point it broke. Diluc moaned, using his tongue to tease you. You hated it, you hated every one of his caresses. So why. Why, when he let go of your other hand, too, driving his own down your body, over your stomach, your hips, and between your legs, did he find wetness stuck to your skin? Allowing him to easily slip through your folds, pry at your clit that throbbed impatiently?

Had it been so long since you've been touched with something other than the dutiful skill of the personnel that dwelled in this house, that your body craved the intimacy? Did you perhaps find yourself fond of the teasing and the desire of your captor? You had avoided him so much, ignored and scorned him; you didn't even remember parts of his features, but new ones were burned into your mind now. Like the awkwardness of his tongue as it tried to taste and play with your breast at the same time, greedily lapping, or the slight shiver from his hand between your legs as it found purchase where you didn't want it.

Diluc tried to push past your entrance, and you bit your lip in a mix of disgust and desire, hard enough to taste iron on your tongue. But he hesitated, retreating and allowing you to snap your legs shut, the spreading wetness only mildly reminding you of your failure to protect yourself from him.

Tearing away from your breast, you watched as he stretched his back, standing tall before you and staring at your juices coating most of his hand. Said hand tentatively raised to his face, and with a shuddering breath, he seemed to lose all composure, licking square over his palm like a thirsty dog. You watched in horrifying awe as he groaned, head falling to the side, a distant look on his face as he cast his gaze downwards.

Yours followed, unable to look away.

Spreading his hand wide open, you saw the strings of juices and drool netting in the gaps between his fingers, yet he enveloped his cock in it without hesitation, mixing your juices on top of the bopping, eager monstrosity impatiently waiting for its turn. It seemed like a rough jerk as he pumped his hand up and down, but you soon heard the squelching of wet skin, involuntarily making you clasp your legs together even tighter, your core filling with warmth.

You had to get away.

Fear filled you, unfiltered, pure panic rising. There was a slowly rising sense of desire clawing its way out of the depths you put it in, but no matter how much you pushed back, it grew bigger and stronger with every stroke of Diluc's hand on his cock. Adrenaline flooded your blood, and you could feel every muscle tense to the point of almost snapping apart. You had to do something—kick, punch, scream! Anything to make him stop.

Diluc had said nothing and didn't make his intention clear verbally. But as you watched him vigorously stroke his cock while looking at the triangle formed by your pussy and legs, you knew exactly what was going to happen.

Your body was already maltreated, bitten, licked, and touched in ways you didn't want to be. Diluc had already made you miserable with his passion, flooded your senses with jolts of joy that weren't his to induce. You owed this man nothing. He was a pitiful piece of shit. He didn't deserve to see or give you pleasure—much less join you in it. And you couldn't continue to let him treat you this way.

Treat you as if you belonged to him.

But instead of kicking, only your eyes widened as he sunk to his knees, cock still tightly gripped in his hand, and for the first time since this assault started, he looked up at you, saw you. Recognized the fear, anger, and anxiety raging inside of you. But instead of regret and sorrow like usually—the reluctance he showed even though he wanted to be with you—all you saw in his expression was the unwavering determination of a man that was sure of what he was doing. Someone who had made up his mind. The most dangerous beast of them all.

"Open your legs," he demanded, placing a threatening hand on one of your knees. "Show me how wet you are. That you are ready for me."

He'd never spoken to you like this in all the time you've been with him. You'd never heard him order you for his own pleasure—or perhaps he always had, and you simply ignored it. But this time, it made you shiver. Shiver like only someone expecting to have sex would. A pang of betrayal of your own body went through you, forcing a shuddering breath from your lips that was met with a sigh from Diluc's. And then, for just a moment, Diluc broke the mesmerizing spell as he added a miserable, "Please."

Please tell me you're ready. Please let me fuck you. Please end my suffering.

One word, so many meanings, and you wondered why you'd even considered for a moment doing it. To avoid the fight? Get your own needs met? Feel something for a change instead of the daily, monotonous boredom you had long made peace with?

"Why would I?" you returned the question, and you saw his determination falter, the moment ruined as was the mood. Usually, that would be enough to break his spirit, put Diluc back in his place, and remind him of what kind of person he was.

But not this time.

"Because otherwise, I will pry them open, bruise your beautiful skin if I must to get what I want. I will own you tonight. Will make you mine, so every time I come into this room from today onwards, you'll be reminded of what I did to you tonight. So that you'll be wet forever more, desperate to feel me inside again."

He gulped, his own words registering in his mind. "I'll make you love me tonight, so you know what it's like to crave someone to the point it makes you mad. And you will enjoy it, so don't make me repeat it again. Open your legs."

A battle ensued inside of you, a war so ferocious and unkind between your need to stay in control and the want to let go of it. Here was someone devoted, obsessed with you, ready to fulfill your every need despite the horrors he made you endure daily. You could use him, enjoy it, and perhaps gain some will to live afterward if the longing for human touch and love was finally soothed. But could you live with the shame? Remembering his hands, his mouth, his cock? Could your mental health withstand the presence of your captor burned into your mind?

Did it make a difference which one you chose?

You'd be miserable either way. He'd not stop even if you didn't obey. He'd not vanish, whether it meant taking you willingly or unwillingly. His presence would still be burned inside your mind, still eat at your table, still try to make small talk even if you didn't answer him. You'd not be better off just because you kept your dignity. Pride meant nothing in this house where no one recognized you as a free, self-owned person.

You'd long been defeated, you simply didn't want to recognize it.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you slowly unfurled your clasped legs, Diluc's shameless gaze falling to his place of desire. You caught him sniffing the air before he groaned, the pumping of his hand below your line of sight getting even more vicious. You fell back into the mattress, sobbing behind your hand, muffling the sound. Still, the misery that threatened to overtake you was cut down violently by the pleasure your compliance brought.

Diluc surged forward, burying his head between your legs. You felt all of his face nestled against the hot, sensitive skin of your pussy, lips trembling against yours while his breath burned away your own heat. His nose was stuck at the top of your folds, clashing with your clit ever so often as he let his jaw slack, tongue starting roaming from the very bottom to the top, slurping up all the leakage he could reach.

You were torn from your defeat when Diluc's mouth found the pleasure of wrapping around your clit, sucking it in. He didn't need teeth nor tongue to make your fingers grasp for his hair; didn't need support as you arched your back. Yet he grabbed your waist with the devotion of a lover and pleasured you once he found the holy grail of sensitivity between your legs.

By the time your feet curled and breathless moans and shrieks escaped you, those legs were wrapped around his head, his breath now matching the heat from your pussy, and his worshipping forcing an explosion. It was a high you were reluctant to come down from. But thanks to Diluc, the crash wasn't a crash at all. It was a slowly drawn-out symphony that got quieter the longer he directed it until it faded with a pleasant tingle left behind.

Your eyes met as he rose above you, staring down at your undone form. Your chests were heaving with the severity of what had just happened, the chemistry you'd denied so long having served its purpose. Sometimes, you feared, it was true that fucking your enemy was the one unforgivable sin that gave more than it took. There was only one thing left now. One eager, lonely thing.

When Diluc hoisted your legs back over his shoulders, grabbing your midriff to move you further up the bed, you didn't move an inch, didn't help him. What he wanted, he needed to earn. If he wanted to have you so badly, he had to do the work for it. And he did. Never grumbling, never complaining while he left trails of kisses behind as he hovered above you, positioning the tip of his cock to your entrance.

The moment you did move, did struggle was as he pressed forward, burying himself inside of you in a long, dragging motion. You'd just come, your sensitivity tightening everything, and his cock, on the other hand, was an underestimated mass invading you. A feeling of fullness, paired with the moans from both of your mouths, was something you'd never again forget. The way he was bulging you out from inside, the throb as his cock threatened to explode right then and there, and the desperate wrapping of your walls to keep yourself sane and safe from the overstimulation.

It was all etched inside of you now, whether you wanted it.

This would be the only dick you could ever have. A burning hot rod of love. Dragging his hips back caused you to cry out and Diluc to groan, but all sounds vanished as he snapped it back in place, sinking every inch into you. You may have hated this man, but you had been wrong not to believe him when he said he'd make you remember this every time you'd see him.

How could you possibly forget?

"I love you!" he grunted, slamming his shaft back inside. "I love you! I love you!"

With every confession, his pace quickened, words of adoration raining down on you while his cock forged its shape into your pussy. The heat was unbearable, desire stoking flames and sending them straight to your core that buzzed with delight. Your orgasm was so close, but so was his. The man you hated more than anything ever in your life had now burned his place inside you and made sure to keep all his promises.

You were his now, for however long this moment was to last.

He came to own your body and, with the second orgasm, also your mind.

Making you forever remember the feeling of his hot seed spurting inside you as he held you tightly against him, your spasms only driving his cock further inside.

You screamed and rejoiced, laughed and choked on your own sobs at the same time. It was sad. The joy, the pleasure, and the sounds of ecstasy were sad reminders of how Diluc had won. How his disgusting, abusive love had spread like venom through you. He didn't move from you for a long time, but when he did, the feeling of his jizz running down your legs felt like poison—like pure toxin—against your skin.

Toxin that had befuddled your mind by making you crave pleasure—crave the feeling of being loved. Diluc was kissing you over and over, even as his cock slipped out of you while he tried to cover more of your body with his own, pressing you against himself with a sort of desperation. As if he had to feel as much as possible, or else he might regret not getting his fill of you.

But everywhere your skin touched his, it burned. The heat of his body, the tongue working inside your mouth, his cock rubbing over your tender, exposed pussy. You were increasingly convinced he was secreting some kind of toxin, perhaps his pheromones or simply his love for you.

Because you let him.

That night, you let him do as he pleased, kiss what he wanted, fuck you as much as he desired. As if you had lost your mind.

Because just this once, you craved it. Craved his attention, his devotion, the way he allowed you to let go and forget the awful situation you were in just for one night. You had allowed him to show you how to crave him in the same way he longed for you. And although you'd regret it in the morning, you didn't let him leave your bed that night—leave you.

Even though you knew his flames—his love—would burn you alive one day as you stoked the fire again and again.

[peachdues]

THE SWEET, FAR THING — NSFW TEASER

Knight!Kyojuro x Princess!Reader • Royal AU

A/N: surprise! It’s been so long since I’ve posted any Kyojuro content, and this fic has been my quiet project since originally teased. I love royal AUs, and I love a good forbidden love story.

Enjoy a first look at some of the spicy, smutty goodness to come in The Sweet, Far Thing. But be warned: these two blue ball the living daylights out of each other for several chapters. This fic will be one of the first breaks in my usual pattern of letting characters bone the first chapter.

You can read the prologue and find links to the other teasers HERE

CW: MDNI • explicit sexual content • grinding • lots and lots of sexual tension • Kyojuro’s got self control but it’s rapidly fraying • Reader’s a bit of a brat

shoutout to @tearmint for letting me flood their DMs with this

The scroll of containing the young Lord Agatsuma’s flowery prose lies forgotten on the floor, hidden beneath the layers of Kyojuro’s discarded uniform. Across the polished wood floor, you’ve been hoisted by your Knight into a distant corner of your room, your legs wrapped firmly around his bare waist.

The great roaring fire in your hearth bathes the dark room in an orange glow. Its flickering brilliance, however, seems dull in comparison to the flames in Kyojuro’s eyes as he grinds his bare member harder against your drenched sex.

He grunts as he ruts his hips into yours, mimicking the movements you’re so desperate for him to make while he’s buried inside you. He leans forward and catches your lips in a bruising kiss. Another thrust, and the thick, leaking head of his cock nearly snags at your entrance.

You gasp into his mouth just as he moans into yours. For one, foolish moment, you hope he will cast caution into the flames where it belongs and finally make his claim on you.

But Kyojuro’s self-restraint will forever be the bane of your existence, for he twists swiftly out of reach, the blunt head of his cock instead shoving into the crease of your thigh. He breaks your kiss with a ragged pant, though he resumes his desperate, jolting rut.

Your nails bite into the thick, corded muscles of his shoulders as Kyojuro’s length passes through your wetness again, though slower than before. There is a shadow of a smirk on his lips as he studies you, brow furrowed, your mouth pulled into a faint pout as you buck into him.

You will catch him; you will take him into your body, and then you will be his. He just needs to stay still —

“My Flame,” Kyojuro leans in and nips the soft spot beneath your ear in warning. “Stop.”

“Please,” you try and guide him back to your entrance, your fingers fisting in his hair to force his obedience.

Kyojuro seals his moan against your throat as your nails graze his scalp, but he stills your efforts by pressing you harder into the wall. The solid weight of him only flames the ache of your longing.

He pulls his face away from your neck. Despite the flush of his cheeks, his eyes remain sharp. “I cannot have you. You know this.”

“You can,” you insist with a demanding roll of your hips. “I command it.”

You try once more to maneuver your way back to him, to coax his thick, turgid length right where you need him most, but Kyojuro tenses. Slowly, he unsticks himself from where he’d pressed you solidly to the wall, shifting his arms out from under your legs, returning your feet gently back to the floor.

“If that is your command, your Highness, then you will have to send me back to the barracks for punishment. For I cannot obey.”

Kyojuro tries to turn away, but you catch his forearm, your fingers digging insistently into its thick muscle.

“Why?” And his heart strains at the plea in your tone. “Why must you continue to deny me? I would give you all of me, if you’d only allow it.”

Kyojuro guides you back into his arms, his lips pressed to your forehead until his mark is seared into your skin, before pulling away. He brushes a knuckle across your cheek. “Can this not be enough? Is it not enough that I risk your ruin — never mind my own head — so that we might be close like this? Are you so unsatisfied?”

You jerk away from him, swatting his hand from your face. “Yes. Because I have told you I care not about any pompous lord or prince of a distant land. I want you. Completely.” You know you are doing yourself no favors by acting like the spoilt, petulant princess you’d always tried so very hard not to be, but Kyojuro’s rejection strikes at some soft, unguarded part of you, and you are too easily bruised. “Yet you continue to only give me half of you.”

Kyojuro bristles, eyes narrowed. “I have lain with you in every sense of the word —“

“Except for how I desire you most,” you finish, cool, so as not to let the bitterness of your disappointment show. “You have had my body in every other way, yet this is where you draw the line?”

Kyojuro’s shoulders are rigid as he snatches his tunic from the foot of your bed. “Do not trivialize yourself for the sake of your argument. You know as well as I that the kingdom’s viability rests entirely on your marriage prospects.”

You storm to his side, still as nude as the day you were born, your loose hair spilling down your bare breasts. You plant your hands on either side of his face and twist, forcing him to meet your stare head-on. “I would marry you. I will march before my father this moment and declare I will have no other.”

You press your body against his, every soft, unblemished curve of you molding perfectly with the solidness of him. Though his limbs are rigid with restraint, he cannot stop himself from cradling your face between his palms.

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “Princess —“

“I dream of you inside me,” you breathe against his lips. Kyojuro’s fingers curl into your cheeks, and his breath turning ragged. “Every night, I dream of it; of how you might lay me back against the bed and make me yours. How you would feel, sheathed within me.”

“Y/N,” his desperate plea is little more than a gasp of air; a whimper for mercy you will not give.

You dig deeper into the wound you’ve opened. “I dream of you putting your claim in me.” You stretch tall on your toes, pressing your lips just below the notch in his throat. “I would carry your child for all the kingdom and those beyond to see. I dream of it so fervently that I am aching when I awake.”

You tease up the length of his neck, kissing his chin once, twice, before settling on his mouth. He indulges you with a soft, pleading moan. His tongue brushes your bottom lip right before you break away.

“You desire me; that much is clear.” Your fingers trail down his torso, finding your proof where it stands taut against his abdomen. “Do you not dream the same?”

Of course he did.

It is his most dangerous, most treasured fantasy. One he’d held even long before he ever began training to be a knight, back when he’d been young and foolish and dreamed of marrying not the Princess of his beloved kingdom, but his dear childhood friend. The girl he trailed after during her family’s lavish feasts, stealing away with her under tables to watch revelers drink and dance and sparkle the way all adults seem to, when one is young. And as he laughed as you would sneak a small hand out from beneath the table’s cover to tickle some lord or lady’s ankle and startle them, he imagined one day whisking you out onto the dance floor. He, in some handsome, smart finery he’d seen the other young lords wear; you, resplendent in the finest of gowns, a crown of jewels sat atop your head.

It is all he has ever wanted; to have you, openly. His love and devotion to you a display that did not have to be concealed in the shadowy corners of your chambers.

But he’d always known it could never come to pass. It was why he’d been able to hold back, even when you were as you are now, bare before him, demanding he lay you out on your bed and claim you for good.

Your thumb strokes his cheek. “Will you continue to deny me? When you swore an oath to serve me?”

You were not his to possess; to love. You belonged to the kingdom and its people. Your people.

Not him. Never him.

You know his answer before he speaks it; can see it in the way his eyes lift to yours, pained yet resigned. Kyojuro withdraws reluctantly, his hands dropping to your wrists before stepping away from you entirely.

“I serve the kingdom.”

He doesn’t need to clarify. Not you.

Kyojuro would rather swallow his own sword than raise a hand to you; you know that. Yet his words are an ugly, vicious slap and you recoil all the same.

The sharp bite of your nails into your palms is all that helps you keep your voice steady, even as embarrassment warms your cheeks.

“If that is your answer,” you swallow once, and force your chin high. “Resume your post then, Sir Rengoku. You’re not needed here.”

He makes as though to say something more, to protest, fight back, do anything that might prove someone in this castle cares for you, not merely what you represent. But even Kyojuro, kind, sweet, loyal Kyojuro cannot elevate you above his own duties. He cannot be fully yours.

Instead, his hand balls at his side. “As you wish, your Highness.”

You’ve put your back to him now, too prideful to allow him to see the silly tears burning in your eyes under the sting of his rejection. Even as your fingers find your dressing robe, the material sliding silkily over your shoulders as you conceal your bare body from sight, you can imagine the curt nod of his head; the ease with which he slips back into his mask as Captain of your guard.

A small, childish part of you longs to lob one of the small pillows decorating your bed right at his head. You opt instead, however, to stare into the fire burning merrily in your lavish hearth.

You try not to linger too long on the way the flames dance like his hair in the wind; how its warmth caressing your face feels dangerously close to his hands; his lips.

Behind you, Kyojuro silently gathers his own abandoned attire. Your ears are painfully tuned into every snap of leather, every shift of metals as he completes his metamorphosis with careful precision.

He cannot help but hesitate as he dresses, silently willing you to face him, to say something — anything — but the only sound that passes between you are the ones of him preparing to leave. Again.

Resigned, he makes his final adjustments to his uniform, his armor, and then slips quietly to your chamber door. He chances one, last hopeful glance back at where you stand before the hearth before pulling the door shut.

You do not turn around.

[skycowboys]

Hey!!! You made a "how to draw wings" sheet, but— how on Earth do you draw horse!?!? The bane of every artists existence

Yeahhh horses are hard. They have lots of little nuances on top of complex anatomy and weird ass shapes (literally and figuratively). Drawing them requires lots and lots of practice. And this is like...entire art book levels of subject matter but here are a few tricks that I've picked up over time -

Key body shapes - shoulder, barrel, hip

I won't go too far into this one because Ken Hultgren does a much better job in his book The Art of Animal Drawing. But TL;DR - a horse's body has three main masses - the shoulder, the barrel, and the hip. Each one is tricky to draw on it's own since they're all weird shapes, but it's helpful to me to break a horse body down into simpler terms.

Key muscle masses

When I draw horses, I like to emphasis curves vs straights. Horses have that built in naturally as their body is often either "pure muscle" or "pure bone". There's some really nice details at the intersections of body parts, like at the front elbow and behind the ears along the neck (aka the "poll") where there's highly definable muscle groups that can help with visual clarity.

Fun fact, young horses grow hip-first. The horse in the photo above is 8 years old. That same horse at 4 years is below. Cracks me up how much taller his hip was at the time.

Ok so the muscles on the front legs combined with the shoulder mass is a fave combo of mine. The shoulder mass itself is something that I've found that is particularly horse-ish. For me, it's a pretty big visual signifier - almost more important than the neck. You can show a lot of tension/action in the body with the shoulder depending how you simplify it. Horses use their shoulders A LOT (too much if you ask any dressage rider or reiner), so emphasizing the shoulder can make a horse more expressive.

Legs. Oh heavens, the legs.

Yeah ok so again, Hultgren goes into fantastic detail on legs and hooves (I still follow how he simplifies hooves to this day my gosh that guy is a genius), but I often break them down like this for quick sketching. Are horse's legs realistically this emphasized? No, but I like the visual language; believable but expressive. This can apply to any size/shape from arabians to drafts.

And finally...

A few head details -

Overall horses have SO many variables. The fun part about that is that they're highly customizable and able to be endlessly stylized. The tough part is that they're hard to draw strictly because of all of the little things to keep track of to make sure the horse reads as "horse".

And so because third time's the charm, Ken Hultgren's Art of Animal Drawing really is one of the best I've seen for breaking down, simplifying, and applying horse anatomy to active drawings.

But most of all, the more you draw horses the easier they'll be.

–

Discord | Patreon | Art Prints

[dumbseee]

just friends, right?

when you and daniel are just friends, or maybe more?

daniel ricciardo x reader.

fc: kendall jenner.

liked by y/n, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1 729 991 others.

danielriccardo: happy birthday to the light of my life (and the bane of my existence.)

_

fan1: anthony bridgerton said the same thing about his future wife 🤭

fan2: the whole world knows except them

fan3: JUST DATE UGHHH

fan4: drop the act and get married omg

landonorris: mommy and daddy <3

fan5: not lando shipping them too

fan6: i just know his camera roll is full of her

maxverstappen1: @.fan6 it is.

fan7: AAAHAJJSOSLSOPXPCPC

fan8: not lando AND max exposing them

fan9: they’re so meant to be

fan10: "the light of my life" when is someone going to refer to me like this??

fan11: daniel is so sweet with y/n :(

fan12: mind you he posted that one minute before midnight so he could be the first one to wish her a happy birthday :((((

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you were dancing along the music with your girls when you suddenly felt a presence behind you. you were in a crowded club with some friends to celebrate daniel’s return to the grid as a driver for alpha tauri. you turned around to face the guy who clearly was seeking your attention and you smiled when you saw a cute blonde guy smiling back at you. the two of you started dancing together, his hands on your waist and yours around his neck. he was cute, and you could take him home with you but something was off. your mind tried to think of why but your heart already knew.

suddenly, the guy was ripped away from you and pushed far back. you blinked in confusion and saw daniel, now standing in front of you, he glared at the guy before returning his attention to you. his usual warm smile was gone and his eyes were now cold. "what is wrong with you?" you yelled over the music. he didn’t respond but instead he grabbed your wrist and dragged you out of the crowd. he ignored your complaints and finally stopped when you two were now in the parking lot. "care to explain what’s gotten into you, joseph?" you crossed your arms. he took a step closer to you which made you frown and almost take one back. "he was too close to you for my liking." you scoffed and laughed at his answer. "so what? you’re not my dad." you rolled your eyes and tried to go back inside the club but daniel blocked you again. "then what am i to you?" he asked in a low tone, sending shivers all over your body.

"daniel. you’re my-…" he cut you, closing his eyes and pinning you against the wall. "say that we’re just friends, i fucking dare you." you looked at him, completely lost, your cheeks were burning hot because of the way he was looking at you and how close the two of you were. your lips remained shut as you didn’t know what to say, you knew daniel your whole life, he was your best friend, your favorite person on earth, basically your soul mate. in all those years or friendship you did question your true feelings for him, but you never crossed the friendship line. what you had with daniel was too precious to ruin it because of your feelings. "say it, y/n." he repeated, you swallowed and closed your eyes, keeping the eye contact was way too hard for you. you couldn’t see it but seeing you being so flustered made daniel smile, he was happy to see the effect he had on you, and that his feelings weren’t one sided like he feared. "can i kiss you?" you opened your eyes and nodded slowly. daniel gently kissed your lips, his hands resting on your hips while you wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing yourself against him. the kiss grew more passionate, more eager.

you dreamed of that moment for years, you couldn’t believe that it was finally happening. you were kissing your best friend, and it felt right.

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, isahernaez and 729 019 others.

y/n: random dump because i still don’t have a jpg account to empty my camera roll

_

fan1: AAAAAAH THE CUTIES

fan2: the first couple pictures we get 🥺

fan3: that’s mom and dad right here

isahernaez: finally!!

maxverstappen1: @.charles_leclerc you owe me 100€ man

charles_leclerc: damn it

fan4: NOT THE BOYS MAKING BETS ON THEM

fan5: y/n was already the queen of wags even before she became a wag

fan6: their love story is the cutest ever

fan7: who said friends to lovers was a boring trope because look at THEM

fan8: the speech he did after his first race since his hiatus, when he thanked her was so cute tho

fan9: i just hope it won’t end badly bc their friendship was superior

fan10: now be happy

fan11: YESSSSSSSS

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taglist: @ferrariloverr

[steviebbboi]

Once Upon A Friendship

Pairing: Childhood Bestie!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 8.6k~ guys i obviously have a problem, my fics just keep getting longer and longer and idk how to stop

Rating: Teens and up!

Disclaimer: Well, well, here we are~ submitting this lil ficlet for @witchywithwhiskey's Slasher Summer Writing Challenge using the following prompts: carnival/county fair + forced proximity + "You think that's blood?". & Because I also wanted to engage with our writers community even more cuz <3, -- I'm also submitting this to @the-slumberparty Sundae Bar challenge: Chocolate (secrets will be REVEALED), butter scotch (childhood friends and the feelz is real 🥹), french vanilla (cause forced proximity trope was inevitable for our reader), w/ toppings of chocolate syrup (established relationship), graham crackers (flashback-backstory heavy), and toasted almonds (🫣get ready for some angst).

Summary: Growing up together, you and Steve were inseparable. Where did it all go wrong?

***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't cuteeee~~~~

Warnings/Triggers: Minors just be mindful that this has mentions of teenage sexual activity but not explicit (all age appropriate) but adding my warning below just in case, explicit language in few pieces of dialogue, ANGST with a happy ending, childhood besties to enemies/strangers, bucky, wanda, and nat are your besties too, steve is a shit communicator, both steve and reader are young and a bit naive, cheesiness ensues, fluff, work is not beta'd so any grammar mistake is my bad!!

*Any comments/reblogs are much appreciated and are so encouraging - more than you know. Pls don't hesitate to interact with me <3

“Argh, Wanda, no– I told you, I hate these things!” You whined despondently while grabbing at her arm.

“Look, you only have to go straight in and see it all the way through! It’s not like there’s any detours.” Wanda replied while giving you a deadpan look. 

You returned the look with your own mocking face, “Wan, you know that isn’t the reason why I hate these things! They grab at you and try to scare you.” You shivered at the thought of one of the maze actors dragging you away somewhere where you couldn’t be found.

“Well…that is their job, y’know?” Wanda said, holding her chin in mock thought. You scoffed and shoved her playfully while she giggled at you. 

“Plus, it’s so hot out! It’s probably so stuffy in there, especially if we go in with a random group.” You complained while attempting to fan yourself while holding your hair up off your neck. This summer was brutal, you couldn’t believe that anyone would be at the carnival fair today. But alas, everyone seems to want to enjoy the last throes of summer. 

“We won’t go in with a random group - Nat said that they’re going to meet up with us before we go in.” Wanda said distractedly while taking out her phone, assuming that she was going to be checking in with Natasha.

Your brain took a second to process what she just said before you froze, your mouth agape, “Wait, ‘th-they’re’? Don’t tell me…”

Wanda stood ramrod still as if lightning just struck. The finger that was twirling her own hair froze its mindless motions as she stared at her phone unblinkingly as she realized her mistake. 

“Argh, Wanda!” You hissed out and covered your face with both of your hands in genuine despair.

Wanda held a guilt-ridden expression, “Oh no, I’m so sorry, chip – I completely forgot that he would be coming-- honest!” 

You released a heavy sigh and closed your eyes to mentally prepare yourself for dealing with the person that you despised the most in this world.

Steve Rogers. The bane of your existence. 

Well, not really (-ish).

He also happened to be a guy that you have been crushing on since you were 10 years old.

Did he know this? No. But even if he did, you would be the last person on Earth that he would pick. How do you know this, do you ask?

You and Steve knew each other since you were basically in diapers. Alongside Bucky and Nat, the four of you grew up together. Although, that didn’t stop you from drawing the short end of the stick when dealing with your pre-pubescent teen years. 

You were a late bloomer– while Nat developed boobs and became a natural flirt at 13 years of age, you were still dealing with the bullies at 13 years old whilst trying to navigate hormones, underdeveloped boobs and pre-teen acne. Bucky quickly developed a barely there mustache and a smirk that made all of the other girls swoon (though, you were convinced that it was really just for Natasha instead). And Steve…well, Steve was like you. Underdeveloped, skinny, no hair to be found on his face. He was as tall as you, and dealt with the bullies way worse off than you ever had to do. 

But that didn’t stop you from falling in love with Steve Rogers. 

Steve was one of your best friends. He always looked after you, whether it were mean girls coming to pick on you again or making sure that you got lunch together. You walked home together, stayed at each other’s houses to study or play video games. You developed a routine where one day in a week, you would order a chocolate chip milkshake while he got a vanilla whip at your local diner, and stayed there for hours just talking about your common interests together. Steve gave you your nickname, ‘chip,’ since he constantly made fun of the fact that you got the same milkshake everytime.

You also remember when the both of you decided to be each other’s first kiss. It was awkward and weirdly coordinated, but it was nice and you trusted each other. You both laughed afterwards and hugged, swearing to each other your friendship was still intact. When your parents would make playful jokes or tease you about when you and Steve were going to be a couple, you blushed and would shy away. 

Where Steve was, you were there too. 

You were basically inseparable as you both knew that you two were the underdogs of the group. Bucky and Nat quickly became the ‘It’ power couple as you all entered into highschool. Steve and you were the glue to your little gang and it just felt so nice to not be alone.

Thankfully, you were able to grow more into yourself by the time that you were 16 years old. Your skin cleared up a bit as you learned to develop a skin care routine, and your boobs started to actually look like there were two of them. Though, you never could quite get past the social isolations (despite the fact that your two best friends were the hottest and the most popular kids at school). 

And while you changed a little bit, Steve…well– Steve changed alot. It was like one day he just woke up and became the guy that he was always meant to be. He started developing a build and grew a beard, had a huge growth spurt and joined the football team. He became strong and capable of anything. But, he was still Steve. He continued fighting for the ‘little guy’ even though he became on par with Bucky and Nat’s social class at school. 

Unfortunately, with Steve’s new social status came the one thing that you couldn’t compete with: Sharon Carter. 

Captain of the cheerleading team, it was almost natural for Steve and her to become a couple. You remembered the day that Steve and you hung out after school for your regular milkshake when he told you quietly that Sharon asked him out to the junior year annual dance. He blushed beautifully as he told his best friend the news, and you made sure to plaster on a fake smile and told him that you were happy for him.

After he took you home, you did your homework, took a shower– and as you got into bed, you cried yourself to sleep feeling utterly alone for the first time in your life. 

Things changed after that. Steve couldn’t walk you home because he was walking Sharon home. He couldn’t play video games with you at yours because he was at Sharon’s. Then, he started canceling your daily milkshake hang outs. 

“I’m sorry, Chip- I have practice to get to.” 

“Sharon mentioned that she needed my help today. I’ll see you next week.”

But next week came and went, and still no Steve.

You quickly realized that Steve was blowing you off when you caught him making out with Sharon at the library in school when he told you the day before that he was going to be at football practice. 

You didn’t mean to catch him at all - but you heard noises and glanced over to see him and Sharon behind the well-known ‘hook up’ section of the library. You squeaked in surprise since they were only half clothed, Steve with his shirt off and Sharon in only her bra. As you stood there shocked, you caught Steve’s widened eyes as they both turned to look at you. Sharon was pretty annoyed that you interrupted them (clocking her narrowed glare), but Steve at least had the decency to look embarrassed as they both put their clothes back on. 

The shock of catching him in the act wasn’t as surprising (as much as it broke your heart, you knew that people in relationships would typically take it to that level fairly quickly). What was surprising was Steve’s reaction. You thought that maybe he would apologize for lying to you, or for blowing you off as many times as he did. But instead, he cleared his throat and his eyes became more stern as he didn’t say a word. He took Sharon’s hand in his and left. 

You remembered standing there for another 5 minutes until you saw another couple glare at you as they took Steve and Sharon’s space. You didn’t even get what you came for– you walked straight home, crying, despondent over losing your best friend. (It was the movie scene where the side character gets discarded and cries silently in the rain - you felt so pathetic).

From that point forward, you didn’t bother texting Steve anymore. And he didn’t ever attempt to text you. He ignored you in the hallways and you didn’t ever look up at him when you would pass each other either. 

Throughout all this, Nat and Bucky were there for you when you came to them about what happened and your waning friendship with Steve. Nat was pissed while Bucky looked confused as to how your friendship could change so quickly. Even though they were still close with Steve too, Nat and Bucky made sure to include you more during their hangouts or offer to take you home, which you felt grateful for, but it didn’t change the fact they had each other. And that you were still alone. 

College was your wake up call to move on from Steve Rogers. You applied to universities that were all out of state, intentionally left your decision last minute so that no one could talk you out of it. Your parents didn’t approve but ultimately respected your decision. 

You remembered graduation where all of your parents made you take a group photo on the bleachers. Nat and Bucky were on the higher step as you and Steve took the lower one. It was awkward as you two barely looked at each other, and fumbled on where to place your hands. It was Bucky who eventually groaned exasperatedly and placed your hand on Steve’s back while he placed his around your waist. 

You recall the moment that really ended things between you and Steve, which was a party at one of Bucky's friends’ places. Nat and Bucky invited you to come in order to have your ‘last high school experience’ (whatever that meant). Unbeknownst to them, you were leaving the next day for settling in your new university halfway across the world. 

The party was blasting obnoxious EDM and the house was littered with red solo cups and other kids yelling at each other as they played beer pong. Feeling so displaced, you took a beer and headed upstairs to look for an empty room. 

Just your luck, you would enter the one that had Sharon (again, half-naked) on top of Steve (who was again, also shirtless) on the bed. You obviously interrupted them in the middle of something again. As they both turned to look at you, Sharon groaned your name in annoyance with an ‘ugh, seriously?!” and for you to ‘‘get out.’’ You couldn’t help but ignore her as you looked at Steve once more. 

He had this same look of annoyance in his eyes as he sat up on the bed that was so unfamiliar. You’ve never seen Steve look at you like that before– as if you were a nuisance or some sort of insignificant thing. It was the same look that he gave you at the library. He became the bully that he used to protect you from when you were kids. 

Something took over you in that moment where you felt your already fragile heart just shatter into several pieces. Though, somehow, all traces of self-pity and loneliness left your body as you coldly looked over at this stranger that you realized you maybe never really knew in the first place. In that moment, you tuned out Sharon’s nasty words, and only looked at Steve with an intentional, apathetic glint in your eyes. 

The words just slipped out before you could even process them:

“I wish that I had never met you.” 

You could mutedly hear Sharon scoff and give some sort of insult (you couldn’t really remember honestly) since the only thing that you waited for, and wanted to notice, was Steve’s reaction. You watched as the traces of annoyance in his eyes glazed out and changed into something that looked akin to shock, panic and something else that you couldn’t place. 

Satisfied with finally being able to impact him for once, and to let him know how much you hated him in that moment, you turned to leave determinedly– you were pretty sure that you heard him yell out your name before you left but you slammed the door hard, ran down the stairs, and out of the house until you made the trek home. 

You told yourself that night, as angry tears fell out onto your pillow in your childhood bedroom, that you would move on from Steve Rogers. That you deserved more and that you were going to make space for yourself in your own way. 

As you settled into your new apartment, met Wanda as your new roommate (and now your certified best friend), you received a call from Nat and a text from Bucky.

Natasha was, naturally, upset at you for leaving without telling her. She made you promise to never do that again and to come to her more when you needed her. You felt one piece of your heart pull together again at how sincere and emotional Nat was on the phone. You realized that you may have also neglected your best friend when you and Steve were close, and promised her on the phone to never let that happen again. 

Bucky sent a text saying, “Dude, what the fuck,” which is pretty polite for him, considering the context. You apologized and explained to him your desire to build your own life and while he was still mad at you, he expressed his understanding and respect for your decision.

Bucky and your relationship was never very close like Steve’s and his was, but he always looked after you (in his own way). You felt protected by Bucky in ways that you couldn’t with anyone else, and you knew that he would always ultimately support you as he would his younger sister. He told you to text him if anyone were to bother you, and you promised that you would check in with him daily.

You did receive one text from Steve: “I’m sorry for everything, chip.” That was all he wrote. 

You glared at your phone and deleted his text, so overwhelmed with your anger and determination to remove Steve Rogers from your life. It seemed as if your lack of response was enough for him to get the message that you were done since he didn’t text you since that day. 

At Uni, you really grew and developed into yourself. You became involved in college campus life, got a job as a TA, had a boyfriend or two. You dated one guy for six months before calling it off since you were better off as friends, and any other flings that you’ve had were short-lived or just didn’t land well enough to be in a committed relationship. 

But you learned alot from these relationships and ultimately felt grateful to connect with people as you proved to yourself that you were something without the people back home. That you were more than the girl who loved Steve Rogers. You were proud of yourself for that.

Flashforward to now, you’ve just finished your freshman year of college. You’re visiting home for the summer to visit your parents, and to visit Bucky and Natasha, both of them ultimately decided to attend one of the local colleges. You kept your promise with them and stayed close, and even brought Wanda back with you– since introducing her to them last week, she became fast friends with your childhood friends. 

You haven’t really spoken to Steve since that last stint in high school. Considering that your two best friends were still close with him too, and your families were all close, you couldn’t exactly avoid him. But you never talked about what happened in highschool. At the chance that you would see and interact with each other, you would greet him politely even though there was still some animosity there. 

Steve wasn’t outwardly mean or rude, and he would try to talk with you more than once before in the past year, but you were evasive everytime in avoiding anything deeper than a “hello, how are you doing?.” You would stuff down the guilt from his disappointed and hurt expressions as you actively avoided him. You brushed off your friends who were begging you to try to repair your friendship with Steve– and just go back to school, blissfully living in ignorance. 

But now, as you stood in line awkwardly waiting for the Summer Queens County Fair’s haunted corn maze with Steve (your friends suddenly “needing” to get some drinks or go to the bathroom while Steve and you waited for tickets in line), you felt like you wanted to pass away from the how thick the tension filled the air.

You could practically feel Steve’s tense energy in attempting to engage you in conversation. And damn him, he looked good. His muscles looked even fuller as they were accentuated by a basic white tee, and his beard- argh, his beard- only made his features even more rugged and handsome. 

You hated the way that he could still make your heart flutter, even after all this time had passed. 

“So,” you almost jumped when he finally broke the silence. “How have you been, chip?” 

You felt yourself take a minute to defrost your stiff and frozen body as you turned to look at him. You met his curious gaze and said blatantly, “I’ve been okay.”

Silence filled the space again as your bluntness seemed to envelop the air around you. “Uh, that’s good. Are you…–how are you finding your classes?”

You looked back at him with narrowed eyes and just felt a rush of frustration move through you seeing his eager expression, that puppy dog look that always made you feel empathy for him suddenly made you feel annoyed and impassive.

“We don’t have to do this, Steve.” You said to him bluntly while crossing your arms defensively.

Steve’s own eyes narrowed in confusion and he swallowed heavily. He seemed to be thrown off by your comment. “I’m just trying to get to know you again, chip–”

“Well, I don’t want you to get to know me, Steve, okay?!” You interrupted him as your voice raised before lowering in the latter half. 

Looking up at him, you met his eyes for the third time that night, but what you didn’t expect to see was that he looked so crestfallen and sad. 

The guilt that has built up over the past few years swooped in and rested heavily in your chest. Instantly regretting your outburst, you sighed, “Look, I just think that we may be better off just not talking to each other, okay. We don’t have to try to be friends again just because our friends forced us to finally interact with each other since highschool.”

Steve winced at your cutting words, and he still had this sadness on his face as he looked down at his feet before he said quietly, “I’m not trying to…–I just…it’s been a long time, chip. The last time that I saw you, with Sharon and with what you said, I–,” you both winced in that quick rehash of the incident. Steve finished with a weary sigh, “Honestly, I just miss you.” 

You frowned when listening to his words as the sincerity behind it felt displaced, and out of nowhere. You also couldn't help but feel concerned as you really looked at him. Outwardly, Steve looked as put together as he usually did. But people weren’t used to seeing him the way that you had growing up.

Looking closer, his eyes weren’t as bright as they could be, and they looked tired. Slight dark circles were forming underneath his dim eyes, shading his fully bearded face that was just a tad unkempt. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping well and his shoulders had a hunch to them that could be perceived as calmness when you knew that it more resembled a tiredness or despondence. 

Your frown was still on your face as you elected to ignore his declaration of missing you and simply asked, “Are you okay, Stevie?”

At your question, Steve noticeably straightened up and his mouth parted in surprise that reflected in his eyes. You both stood there for a moment as you stared at him with concern and him looking at you with…mirth? With your lips pursed, you glanced at him with narrowed eyes at seeing the humor alight in his eyes, brightening them a bit more towards its familiar shade of cerulean blue.

“Okay, what just happened?” You asked suspiciously. 

Steve’s eyes brightened more and the grin that was growing on his face grew even larger into a soft smile. “You called me Stevie.” 

You lurched back a bit as you replayed the moment briefly in your head and stuttered a bit at the realization. You hadn’t meant to call him that at all, but when you saw that sad look on his face and the signs of it on his body, you couldn’t help but recall moments similar to when you were just kids, walking home, checking in with each other during similar moments, but experiencing these things together. 

“Uh- I– I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call you–,” You blushed and stuttered as you tried and failed at attempting to save your slip. 

“No,” Steve interrupted you, his smile wilting a little bit. “Please, don’t apologize for that. I,– I miss us when we were just kids. Nobody calls me that anymore, well, beyond Nat and Buck, of course.” He said sheepishly while running his hand through his hair, disheveling it even more into a natural, annoyingly perfect quaff. 

You gave him an assented hum and cleared your throat as you looked back down at your feet, giving the flattened grass an invisible kick. You both were quiet again but the awkward animosity wasn’t as present as it was before. You both shifted on your feet a bit more before glancing up at each other from time to time, barely missing each others’ eyes before finally, your gazes met each other at the right time. 

He was looking at you differently– this time with that good-natured smile and levity in his eyes that glinted at you with that same ‘something else’ that you couldn’t quite put a finger on a year ago. 

His small grin was reluctantly infectious as you felt your lips start to curve upwards as a response.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes trying to stuff down your smile as you replied with a cheap response. Memories surfaced again of your witty banter that you used to share that always started with Steve’s little smile, and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as you opened them again to meet his own humorous gaze.

Steve’s soft smile grew into a teasing smirk, “That’s good, at least I got a smile and a laugh from you before you start to avoid me again.” 

You only gave him an incredulous look at how blatantly out of pocket that sounded before letting out a sudden, full belly-laugh with him. You couldn’t believe that you were laughing again with Steve Rogers. 

You felt this feeling again too - it wasn’t heartbreak, but rather, the shattered pieces that were shoddily put together again throughout the years felt solidified just a little bit more.

The laughs died down and the both of you remained standing there with genuine grins on your face. Before you lost your nerve, you felt a sudden urge to have him listen to you, to hear you, and to understand what really happened between you two. 

“Steve–,”

“Chip, I–”

You both looked at each other and laughed for a moment before he indicated for you to go first. His grin looked so boyish and sincere, you couldn’t help but smile back at him as you two were just high school kids in Brooklyn again. Comfortable and authentic, together. 

About to open your mouth, you get interrupted again by the person that you least expected to see on your visit back home.

“Chip? Steve? Oh my gosh, is that you two? Wow, chip! Look at you, you certainly grew into yourself!” Sharon’s pitched voice pierced the mutual bubble that was starting to form between you and Steve and flattened its existence.

You gave her a quick glance over and were internally surprised to see that she seemed to be exactly the same. Her eyeliner framed her hazel brown eyes that were widened in what looked like surprise, and with a hint of condescension (cause why wouldn’t she look down upon you with all of that pity). Her blonde hair resting softly down her back as she stood there in her floral skirt, her friends right behind her glancing over at you and Steve disinterestedly. 

You stood there and gave her a fake shoddy grin as you greeted her back politely. “Sharon, wow, hi.” Your monotonous tone couldn’t be covered up in time before the words left your mouth.

She only gave you a dull hum before she glanced over at Steve with a smirk. “Hi Steve, how are you?” 

The curious part of you couldn’t help but try to catch Steve’s reaction to her presence. You had no idea where things left with them since you left that day, and you never bothered to ask your friends either. Assessing him, he was looking at her with a nonchalant expression, and you were unsure of how deliberate his reaction was as he made small talk with her. 

Trying to gauge his expression, there wasn’t any sadness present in his eyes anymore, nor was there any mirth. But, you did notice a stiffness there. The corner of his eyes crinkled a little too harshly as he forced a polite smile onto his face. You could see his jaw clench as Sharon droned on about her college experience.

Time couldn’t erase the fact that you did know Steve Rogers for some time– and when he was uncomfortable, he wasn't able to hide it at all. 

The theatrical tunes of the fair and the echoes of people screaming in mirth and laughter suddenly came back in as you hear the booth employee for the haunted corn maze (this line was way too long for what it was worth) call for you and Steve to step on up. 

You couldn’t stifle the quiet mutter under your breath, “thank god” as a wave of relief flooded through your body at being able to escape the dangers that you just experienced as you turned around to follow the employee to the front of the maze. You didn’t even say bye to Sharon, and you didn’t even realize that your friends hadn’t returned from their supposed tasks. 

Your mutter may have been louder than you thought as you heard a snort from beside you. Glancing over, Steve was looking down at you with a returned humor that you just rolled your eyes at him. “Well, it’s not like you wanted to be there anymore than I did. Your tells are still exactly the same, Stevie.” You said derisively. 

Ignoring the harshness of your tone, Steve only smiled more as you slipped boundaries again. You only caught it when you saw that he was simply just staring at you in response. Only then did you catch it and you rolled your eyes again with a small smile. His smile grew more as he intentionally leaned and walked into your path as you both followed the employee. You stumbled to your left at his deliberate clumsiness and shoved him away from you playfully before you could stop yourself. 

You’re teasing around with Steve Rogers. And reluctantly admitting, you weren’t unhappy about it. 

You both continued to shove each other away as Steve kept teasing you until you reached the front of the maze. The employee turned to face you before you went inside to explain the rules and you were listening attentively until you heard a throat clear from behind you. Looking back, you see that it's Sharon and her friends. 

Trying to, but unsuccessfully, cover your agape mouth at seeing that they were actually following behind you this entire time, you clenched your jaw with annoyance and turned to face forward again.

The despair that you felt come in earlier from Steve’s arrival has returned tenfold with Sharon’s presence. Paired with the fact that you’re being forced to have entered a haunted corn maze, your hackles rise angrily at the fact that you’re being forced into a situation with both Steve and Sharon that you didn’t even wanna be a witness to, AGAIN.

Feeling suddenly so tired and exhausted, you let out a despondent sigh, “Okay, are we doing this or what?” The employee merely raised their eyebrows before motioning you to move forward in the maze.

You could feel Steve’s eyes following you as he tried to walk next to you, but you could hear Sharon trying to engage with him again. You could hear him respond but you didn't really care anymore. You didn't mean to be rude, but you were feeling resentful of all of it again. Especially hearing Sharon’s whiny voice trying to speak with Steve right directly behind you, you once again felt utterly alone. 

Torches and string lights lit up the corn maze. Although, the night sky was void of any lights or stars, which made the maze really feel like a maze– isolated and desolate. You could hear Sharon’s two friends in the back muttering that they were scared as they let out occasional, little screams at any sounds that could be heard (even if it was just the wind grazing the corn harshly, or honestly, the sounds of their own footsteps, ha.) 

Feeling so bored and wanting to leave, you turned around to just go back when you saw Sharon holding on to Steve’s arm with a worried look on her face. 

You were passing by some rows of hay with a sticky red substance spilling all over it when you heard Sharon’s small screech.

“Omg, you think that’s blood?,” She said with a genuinely worried tone. 

You wanted to laugh so bad as you looked over at Steve, just in time to see the rolling of his eyes and heavy sigh. She seemed to be grasping onto him with an even tighter grip and although Steve wasn’t shaking her off, he did have that uncomfortable look on his face again.

His second aggravated sigh and furrowed brows gave away his annoyance as he attempted to subtly create some space between his body and her touch. You turned forward again as the laughter erupted in your throat, but you managed to stifle it in time with a pursed smile on your face at hearing Sharon’s affronted noise in response. 

You could read a mean girl from far away at this point – Sharon’s attitude wasn’t lost on you nor was her sudden closeness with Steve. But it didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would, even if you found out that they were still together after high school. Honestly, a part of you felt satisfied that Steve, the one responsible for the existing tension between you in the first place, was finally just as uncomfortable as you were. To see Sharon offended and to see Steve’s discomfort made you feel a sense of justice and a resurged faith in good ol’ karma. 

That pride you felt in being able to find your own comfort in your healing made you feel giddy. You weren’t in any sense of a relationship that held any drama. It felt good to know that the forced proximity didn’t just affect you at this moment. Yeah, sucks to suck, doesn’t it?

You flinched a few times as you continued walking throughout the maze with some actors coming out to scare you, but as you saw the glaring red Exit sign, you couldn’t wait to get outta there. Speed walking at this point, you were determined to walk out of this maze with your gaze forward, determined to not look back at the two sore points of the past few years. 

You made it to the exit and sighed in relief. You were already a few paces away when you heard Steve call for you.

“Wait, chip! –” 

The body is a wonder - your mind was so fixated on leaving but when you heard him call out for you, your mind flashed to the both of you waiting in line, flashed to the sounds of your laughter mixing together, the feeling of him leaning into you. You didn’t want to but, suddenly, your feet just stopped in place and you turned around to look over at him. Hope swelled in your chest…

And there was Steve. And Sharon. Kissing. 

You inhaled deeply at the sight, not expecting to have caught them, yet again, mid-kiss. The tension knotting in your stomach finally exploded, and your stomach dropped making your feet feel so heavy. It was like watching a car crash happening in front of you - you felt fixated and couldn’t move, turn away. The hope that was swelling in your chest evaporated like mist, and you felt so foolish. The pieces that were somehow lodged together again from your earlier interaction broke into pieces, and felt grinded into dust. The wind took its opportune moment to breeze through your hair, and it almost felt like it intentionally took your longing for your best friend again with it.

Steve gripped Sharon’s arms harshly, shoving her away from him with an angry expression on his face. “Sharon, what the hell?!” He exclaimed. Turning away from Sharon and her pouted expression, his widened eyes frantically found yours. 

Even a few feet away, the panic that you saw in them was familiar. You remember seeing it exactly when you had severed the existing relationship between you and Steve that night. 

You couldn’t help your reactiveness– you were feeling so triggered by what you were witnessing. Your vision started to get blurry as you felt that familiar burning sensation building in your eyes. The panic in Steve’s eyes intensified at the sight, and when he made a move to step forward, your feet instinctively took one step back. 

Completing the reenacted memory, you felt your mouth press into a hardened line as you met his gaze with a ferocious determination. Familiar numbness rose up and a lethargic apathy just washed over you. You bravely met his gaze and although the words weren’t being said, you and Steve both heard the words.

“I wish that I had never met you.” 

The truth was, the anger and rage that you were feeling (and let’s be honest, the resentment that you suppressed and just gaslit yourself into reframing it as healing) was just the surface. Underneath, a deep and hollow feeling of just being unwanted and undesirable bubbled up with a vengeance. You didn’t wanna hear it, but you were tired, were abandoned by your friend(s), and energy depleted from tonight’s event. You knew you couldn’t be there any longer. 

Your feet continued to step back slowly as you heard Steve asking for you to please wait - but then Sharon took his arm again needily and you took that as your opportunity to bolt. 

You dropped your teary-eyed gaze away from his almost desperate looking one, mumbled out a quick excuse and left with a brisk nod. It was just like when you were 17 again, you heard Steve call out your name again but you don’t stop to look. You didn’t see him staring after you so longingly and looking so dejected, nor did you see him blatantly remove his arm from Sharon’s grip again while they hushed out intense looking whispers at each other. 

The parking lot of the carnival was in sight as you wiped away the bitter tears from your face. You knew that leaving was immature of you, and you knew that you would disappoint your friends. You knew that you were breaking your promises to Nat and Bucky (and now Wanda) about talking with them before making any impulsive decisions.

You reached your old pick-up and opened the door harshly. The tears wouldn’t stop as you stood outside the car. Almost child-like, your hands curled into fists as you brought them to your eyes and just sobbed. 

For a moment there, you thought that maybe…maybe you could start again. Maybe you and Steve could rekindle your friendship, or at least, talk things through. You thought that maybe you’d be able to continue laughing again. You shook your head, feeling so much pity for yourself. 

Heaving out another wilted sigh, you closed your eyes and tilted your head back to allow the fresh winded air to dry your tears upon your chilled face. You needed time to think, and you knew exactly where you wanted to go, and what you needed. 

The sweetness of the chocolate shavings melted in your mouth, leaving only the sugary taste behind. You took another sip of your milkshake and made sure to swipe some whipped cream from the top for an extra sweet finish. 

The diner was mostly empty, spare a truck driver or two sitting by the bar tops. You mindlessly stir your milkshake some more with the plastic straw and couldn’t help but relieve another sigh from your body. You came to the diner for nostalgia’s sake, and a chocolate chip milkshake was always a huge dopamine boost for whenever you were feeling sad. 

But this time, getting your favorite milkshake at the diner left more of a sour taste in your mouth as each sip just reminded you of Steve.

You decided that you would try to bring yourself to feeling better before you left for home, which meant drinking your milkshake, making small talk with Betty (the sweet, old waitress who has been giving you milkshakes for free since you were a teenager), and settling the grievances that you could actually fix. 

You instantly texted Wanda to let you know that you had left the carnival, and that you hoped that she was having fun going to the bathroom for the past hour. Instantly receiving an apologetic text back for ditching you with Steve, you figured it was as good a time as any to also let her know that she would have to ride back with Bucky and Nat (given the fact that you also had basically left her there too). She sent you the mouth wide open face emoji, and you knew that you both could call it even.

Nat texted you a selfie of her and Bucky pouting remorsefully. It was enough to make you crack a grin (Bucky looked so ridiculous). You demurely sent them back a picture of your middle finger (because you were the bigger person of course), which only had her text back an apology with an IOU. You knew that they were only trying to be your friends, but at least you would have this photo as blackmail for future purposes. 

You started to play a game on your phone mindlessly when you heard the door ring, indicating a new customer walking in. Not even looking up, you proceeded to win the next level of the game until someone set another chocolate chip milkshake down on your table. 

“Oh, it’s okay, Bet, I didn’t want–,” you started to say as you looked up. But it wasn’t Betty who dropped off the milkshake. 

It was Steve. 

Your eyes widened a bit in just processing that he was actually there, standing in front of you. He actually came to find you? The scene from earlier was so crystal clear and akin to your high school memory, you were convinced that that would be it. As you sat there staring doe-eyed at Steve, the scene had felt like it glitched as it was now playing out differently than you had expected.

Heat rose to your cheeks as your gaze focused on Steve’s determined facial expression. You turned forward to face your new milkshake and deliberately avoided his narrowed gaze. You could feel him still staring at you and you shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t say anything but moved to sit across from you in the booth, heaving out a heavy sigh of his own as he did too.

You kept your eyes down as the both of you let the silence permeate the air around you. A few minutes passed before you were about to officially just get up and leave when Steve broke the silence first. 

“I swear,” he turned to look over at you with an exasperated gaze. “I had no idea that she was going to be there.”

A disbelieving scoff came out of your mouth and you rolled your eyes blatantly. “Steve stop, again, you don’t have to do this – “ 

“Stop saying that, chip!” His voice was filled with a sternness that you couldn’t ignore. Your eyes widened at him as he continued, “I’m here because I want to be, okay? Not cause Bucky, or Nat, or your family told me to or forced me to. I found you - and I asked you to wait earlier and you ran away, again!”

A glare scrunched up your face as your fury rose up at the audacity of his scolding, “Excuse me?! I didn’t want to wait because I didn’t want to watch you and Sharon sucking each other’s faces off, again!” You flourished your mocking with a tight expression and only caused Steve to oppose you even more.

“She was the one who kissed me – I didn’t want to be there with her either. I haven’t even seen or spoken to Sharon since you left!” Steve blurted out.

Your heart felt like it was racing in your chest and your mind blanked at hearing Steve’s reveal as you tried to stutter out a response. “What– I don’t–,” words were hard. You thought that they were together for some time during the year in college. With the way that Sharon was acting, you assumed that they were still interacting with each other, somehow, at the very least.

Steve took advantage of your surprised silence and continued, “God, chip. After what happened at the party, I just…I realized then how much I hurt you.” He looked at you with such remorse as you just continued staring at him. The hardness that was built over the years was still surrounding you, trying to protect you, even if Steve was professing his regret. 

“When I heard you say that you regretted having ever met me,” you both flinched at the words as he said them, “and this look in your eyes…it looked like you really despised me and I felt it and I just–,” Steve cut himself off with another flinch and pinched his eyes shut. 

“I let it get to my head. When I made the team and when people started to pay attention to me, when those bullies stopped bothering me and actually invited me to things, I lost sight of what really mattered to me the most and that was you. I know that that is a stupid excuse, and that I was hurting you, even way before what happened at the party and I was dumb, immature, and just stupid, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, chip.” He spewed out the words faster than he could coherently process them but the sincerity could be heard in his rushed tone. 

His downcast, teary eyed gaze met yours and you felt your breath hitch slightly at the sight. Growing up with Steve, he was always the formidable one. He was the one who reached out first to hold your hand if you cried. The one to maintain composure and calmness while you were the one who was more nervous and panicked. To see Steve so out of breath, wistful, and low-spirited was worrisome and unfamiliar to you. 

You were at a loss for words as you tried your best to process his words. Steve bit his lip nervously as he tried to gauge your reaction. When you only met him with more silence, the despondent look in his face only grew, “Please. I completely understand if you still don’t want to be friends, and after this, I’ll completely leave you alone. But honestly, chip, I can’t leave knowing that you still hate me. I- I know that’s selfish, but I can’t.” 

You moved your stare to blankly look at your melting milkshake, the whipped cream completely evaporated into the cold drink. 

“You hurt me.” You blurted out.

Steve almost looked startled at hearing your voice after such a lingering silence. “I know, and I’m so sorry–.”

“No, Steve,” You interrupted him indignantly, “you hurt me.” The tears blurred your unseeing gaze again as you focused enough to meet his own. The whimper dislodged in your throat as you could no longer hide the suppressed pain.

Just like that, the both of you were 15 years old again. You were crying after being teased by other kids or bullied for your flaws, and Steve was there trying to console you. The impact of these experiences were a shared burden impenetrable to your friendship together.

The difference now is that, instead of your tears being spurred by the mean-spirited popular kids, Steve was the one who committed the offense, a betrayal that cut so deep and you were the only one to shoulder the burden. 

Steve swallowed heavily as he blinked furiously to hold his own tears at bay. He seemed to understand what you were saying as his eyes glanced over the different features of your face. He knew all of your vulnerabilities and ignored, neglected his care of you by treating you the way that others had growing up. He abandoned you when you needed him the most, and he had to understand the severity of that in the same way that you tried to tell him then as you were now. 

Steve exhaled deeply as he looked over at you. His still despondent eyes held a layer of genuine understanding as he apologized despairingly, “I’m so sorry.” 

You sniffled as tears fell freely onto your cheeks, your puffy eyes and pained expression causing Steve to flinch in his own despondence. You brought a closed fist to your face again to wipe the tears and winced as you suddenly felt strong, sturdy arms envelop you in a soft embrace.

The tears only came down stronger at the feeling of hugging your best friend. Not feeling so alone anymore, your heart cried out with you in relief as you turned and tucked your face into his chest, your arms moved to clutch his back. Once you did, his embrace only became tighter as he squeezed you to him closer. 

You both sat there for a while, just hugging, soft sobs falling from your lips while Steve continued to repeat quiet, but earnest, apologies. After a year of animosity, sadness, and unresolved hurt, the both of you silently agreed to let this moment just be. 

Eventually, your tears stopped running so harshly and you sniffled back your snot-filled nose very charmingly as you reluctantly pulled away from his warmth. Steve still kept one muscular arm around your shoulder as you looked up at him hesitantly.

“Stevie?” You began to ask. Steve responded with a soft hum for you to continue while rubbing your shoulder soothingly. It didn’t even seem like he noticed that he was doing it.

Before you could lose your nerve, you meekly asked, “Why did you start pulling away from me when you started dating Sharon?” 

Steve’s hand froze and he stilled as if he were preparing for the worst. He sighed while closing his eyes for a moment. Taking a breath, he opened them back up to look at you with a resolved and honest gaze.

“When I told you that Sharon asked me to the prom, I thought that would’ve been the moment that you told me that you liked me the same way that I liked you.” 

Your heart thundered so loudly in your chest as you gave him a shocked, glazed over expression. 

He liked you.

“But then you smiled at me, and you said that you were happy for me, and, I guess a part of me felt like I was foolish to have ever thought that you would actually like me more than a friend. I continued things with Sharon because I felt like I had to get over you.” He said regretfully. 

You blinked up at him a few times before you asked dumbly, “And that’s why you were pulling away? The lies and the fake excuses, or why you ignored me when you were with Sharon?” 

Steve flinched with each question as he confessed, “Yes. It was really immature of me to ignore you. If I could go back and do it over, I would in a heartbeat.” An intentional look sat on his face as he expressed his remorse. 

You released another speechless hum in return, still processing that Steve liked you. In a spur of your own adrenaline running through your body, you suddenly disclosed, “Steve, I did like you the way that you liked me.”

Steve stilled and inhaled sharply, “...W-what do you mean?” 

Mustering up your own fostered courage, you exhaled deeply and said, “I liked you too. But I was your best friend. I thought that you were the one who didn’t like me, so I thought that if I supported you in dating Sharon, I wouldn’t lose you completely.” You felt your face scrunch in confusion as how ridiculously unnecessary this entire separation was.

He only looked at you with incredulity as he realized, “So, because we couldn’t just buck up and tell each other honestly in that moment that we liked each other, we ended up losing each other anyways?” 

“Ugh, what a mess.” You revered and knocked your forehead against his chest ashamedly. You both were quiet again as he resumed rubbing your shoulder calmingly. 

“Chip?” Steve suddenly spoke out. 

Raising your head up to look at him again, still cringing from such a huge misunderstanding, you gave him a soft hum to continue his inquiry. 

Steve looked down into your eyes, making you feel mesmerized with how deeply he was gazing at you. From how close your faces were, you could really see the subtle hints of green in his blue eyes. There was still some grief there as you looked at each other but there was again, something else that you still couldn’t point out. 

Noticing that unknowing glint in his eye for the second time that night, you questioned him curiously hoping to finally find out, “What is it?”

“I like you.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, his eyes filled with mirth again and an honesty that couldn’t be faked. Your thundering heart skipped a beat as you felt your own spirit restore within you. You could feel those pieces in your heart start to build again. 

You looked back at him with such relief as Steve pulled you in closer, you took in another deep breath as you responded.

“I love you.” 

His eyes immediately glowed with an infectious joy, a genuine laugh and smile graced his face as he got closer to you. You could hardly breathe as you returned his loving gaze, his nose nuzzled yours gently until the both of you met each other halfway in a tender, first kiss. 

A/N: my cue to say: and they lived happily ever after! i would love to know what people thought, thanks for reading :)

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[yourmomsawh0r3]

Bane of my existence

pairing: benedict bridgerton x f! reader

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: 18+, NSFW

Your history with Benedict Bridgerton had long been marked by sharp barbs and subtle jabs, a rivalry that stretched back to your earliest years. From the very moment you first met, your differences had been irreconcilable, and thus, the Queen’s daughter and the second Bridgerton son had found themselves at constant odds, locked in a battle that spanned childhood, youth, and now adulthood.

The first incident you could recall occurred at the tender age of eleven, at a garden party your mother had hosted. You stood with all the grace befitting a royal, posture straight, hands folded properly before you, while Benedict, with his shirt untucked and face smeared with dirt, had bounded into view.

"You appear as though someone carved you from stone," he had declared with a cheeky grin, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. "All stiff and far too serious."

Your nose had wrinkled in disgust at his unruly appearance. "And you, sir, resemble a wild beast escaped from the forest. Have you no sense of decorum?"

Benedict had merely laughed, unbothered by your rebuke. "What’s the use of decorum when fun can be had?"

It was then, you supposed, that the antagonism between you was born an endless exchange of insults that grew fiercer as the years passed. Every ball, every gathering, every accidental meeting in the gardens of your respective homes became a stage for your verbal sparring. You, the epitome of refinement and dignity, and he, the charming rogue who seemingly cared for none of it.

In your teenage years, things only worsened. Benedict had grown into his looks, tall and handsome, with a carefree demeanor that drew many an admirer to him, though none more unwillingly than yourself. At a ball hosted by the Queen herself, you had stood across the room, watching with disdain as Benedict flirted shamelessly with a young debutante. It irked you, though you could not understand why.

"Are you jealous, Your Highness?" he had teased when he caught your gaze, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

"Jealous?" you had scoffed, lifting your chin. "I am merely astonished that you manage to capture the attention of anyone at all, given your deplorable manners."

Benedict had sauntered closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "You wound me. Perhaps you care more than you let on."

"I assure you, I do not," you had responded icily, though the rapid beating of your heart betrayed you.

Yet the more you pushed him away, the closer he seemed to draw. His infuriating charm, his roguish wit it all aggravated you beyond measure. And still, you couldn’t deny that some part of you thrived on the challenge he presented. You were two forces constantly in opposition, and neither of you could back down.

But the night that truly shifted everything came much later, when the two of you had grown into adults,adults with a history of conflict, yes, but with something deeper stirring beneath the surface, though you were too proud to acknowledge it.

The night of the fateful ball had begun like any other. You arrived, as you always did, resplendent in your finest gown, your chin held high as you entered the grand ballroom. You had resolved to avoid Benedict Bridgerton altogether that evening, for the mere thought of another sparring match with him exhausted you. But, as always, fate had other plans.

Across the room, you saw him leaning casually against a pillar, his eyes scanning the crowd with that familiar look of lazy amusement. His gaze met yours, and though you tried to look away, something held you in place. It was infuriating, the way he could draw your attention with so little effort. You scolded yourself for the flush that crept up your neck as you turned to your current dance partner, determined to focus on anyone but Benedict.

In your determination to be rid of him from your thoughts, you had flirted with the gentleman in your company more boldly than usual, laughing at his every remark and placing your hand on his arm in a way you knew would be noticed. And noticed it was.

Benedict had appeared by your side, his jaw tight, his eyes flashing with something dark and unfamiliar. "Might I cut in?" he asked, though his tone was not so much a request as a command.

Your dance partner had stepped aside, leaving you standing there with Benedict, your heart racing in anticipation of yet another argument.

"Have you something to say, Mr. Bridgerton?" you asked coolly as he led you to the edge of the ballroom.

"Oh, plenty," he replied, his voice laced with bitterness. "Is this how you secure a gentleman’s affections? By simpering and laughing at their every word?"

You had stared at him in shock. The barb was sharper than any he had thrown before. "What concern is it of yours how I behave?" you demanded, your voice trembling with barely contained fury.

"I had thought you had more dignity than to act like... like a common flirt," he bit out, the venom in his tone unmistakable.

His words struck you like a blow to the chest, and before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek, betraying your anger and hurt. The look in his eyes changed immediately regret flickered across his face, but it was too late. You turned and fled, refusing to let him see how deeply he had wounded you.

For weeks, you shut him out completely. You ordered the guards to turn him away from the palace, refusing to see him whenever he came to call. The hurt he had inflicted upon you ran too deep. You had always sparred with him, yes, but never had he been so cruel. And what’s worse, you hated how much his words had affected you. Why did it matter what he thought? Why did “he” matter at all?

Yet, despite your attempts to forget him, Benedict occupied your thoughts at all hours. His absence gnawed at you, and though you refused to admit it to yourself, you missed him. You missed the way his presence had always drawn a spark from you, the way he challenged you in a way no one else ever had.

The culmination of your silence came at Lady Danbury’s ball. You had resolved to enjoy yourself that evening, to forget Benedict Bridgerton and all the chaos he brought into your life. But, as you danced with another suitor, you felt that familiar gaze upon you once more. Benedict’s eyes followed your every move, and something inside of you stirred, a mixture of longing and anger.

As you flirted with your current partner, you saw Benedict’s expression darken, his gaze narrowing in jealousy. Without warning, he stormed across the ballroom and interrupted your dance, his voice tight with barely restrained fury.

"May I cut in?" he asked, though it was clear he would brook no refusal.

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding, allowing him to take your hand and lead you from the crowded ballroom. He guided you into a private study, closing the door behind him, his expression one of frustration and desperation.

"I cannot stand it any longer, Y/N," he began, his voice low and urgent. "This charade between us it must end."

You crossed your arms, lifting your chin in defiance. "Charade? What nonsense are you speaking now?"

"I love you," he said, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. "I have always loved you, and it is driving me mad. These games we play this endless fighting I cannot bear it anymore."

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden confession. "You... love me?"

"Yes," he breathed, stepping closer, his eyes searching yours. "And I fear I have ruined everything with my careless words. I never meant to hurt you that night. I was jealous of seeing you with another man, when all I have ever wanted was you."

For a moment, you were silent, your heart racing as his words sank in. This was what you had both been avoiding, what had simmered beneath the surface for years. All the arguments, the rivalry, the tension it had been love all along.

"Benedict," you whispered, your voice soft as you reached out to touch his cheek. "Why did we waste so much time fighting?"

"I know not," he replied, covering your hand with his own. "But I swear to you, I will fight no longer. I will love you, if you will have me."

Your heart swelled with warmth as you stepped into his arms, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "Then kiss me, Mr. Bridgerton, and let us end this foolish war once and for all."

And kiss you he did. It was a kiss filled with years of longing, of frustration, of love that had been denied for far too long. As his lips met yours, you felt every barrier between you crumble, leaving only the truth of what you both had known all along. You were meant to be together, and nothing not even years of rivalry could keep you apart now.

When the kiss finally ended, you rested your forehead against his, a smile curving your lips. "It appears we are not enemies after all."

"No," Benedict whispered, his arms tightening around you. "We are lovers, and we always shall be."

Benedict's eyes darkened with desire as he gazed at Y/N. The years of tension between them had finally reached a breaking point. With a swift motion, he lifted her onto the nearby desk, their lips crashing together in a passionate kiss.

"Benedict," Y/N gasped as his lips trailed down her neck. "I've never... This is all so new to me."

He paused, looking into her eyes with tenderness. "We'll take it slow, my love. Trust me."

As they continued exploring this new intimacy, Benedict guided Y/N gently, explaining each sensation and asking for her consent. Y/N's reactions were filled with wonder and growing desire.

"Is there more?" she asked breathlessly, her eyes shining with curiosity and trust.

Benedict smiled warmly. "My love, there is so much more. But only if you're ready to take that step. We have all the time in the world."

Y/N's heart raced as she gazed into Benedict's eyes, her body trembling with anticipation. "I'm ready," she whispered, her voice filled with trust and desire.

Benedict's hands gently caressed her face. "Are you certain, my love? We can stop at any time."

Y/N nodded, her fingers tangling in his hair. "I want this. I want you, Benedict."

With tender care, Benedict began to undress her, his lips trailing kisses along each newly exposed patch of skin. Y/N gasped at the sensations, her inexperienced body responding eagerly to his touch.

"Benedict," she breathed, "what are you doing? It feels... incredible."

He looked up at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Allow me to show you, darling."

Benedict's fingers deftly unlaced Y/N's corset, his touch sending shivers down her spine. As the garment fell away, he paused, drinking in the sight of her.

"You're breathtaking," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

Y/N blushed, unused to such open admiration. "Benedict, I..."

He silenced her with a gentle kiss. "Trust me, my love. Let me worship you as you deserve."

His lips trailed lower, exploring newly exposed skin. Y/N gasped, overwhelmed by the sensations. Her fingers clutched at the desk's edge, her body arching towards Benedict's touch.

"Oh!" she exclaimed softly. "Is this... is this what it's supposed to feel like?"

Benedict looked up, his eyes dark with passion. "This is just the beginning, darling. There's so much more to discover together."

Y/N trembled with anticipation as Benedict's hands gently caressed her thighs. His touch was reverent, exploring every curve and contour of her body with tender care.

"Benedict," she whispered, her voice quivering. "I've never felt anything like this before."

He looked up at her, his eyes filled with love and desire. "I promise to make this perfect for you, my darling. Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable."

As his lips brushed against her inner thigh, Y/N gasped softly. The sensations were overwhelming, but exquisite. She tangled her fingers in Benedict's curls, urging him closer.

"Please," she breathed, though unsure exactly what she was asking for. "I need... more."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as Benedict's skilled ministrations sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body. Her fingers tightened in his curls, holding him close as she arched against the desk.

"Benedict," she gasped, her voice trembling with newfound desire. "I... I feel like I'm about to..."

Benedict looked up, his eyes dark with passion. "Let go, my love. I've got you."

With a soft cry, Y/N surrendered to the sensations, her body shuddering with release. Benedict held her gently, whispering words of love and praise as she came down from her high.

As Y/N's breathing steadied, she gazed at Benedict with wonder and adoration. "That was... incredible," she murmured. "Is there truly more?"

Benedict smiled tenderly, caressing her flushed cheek. "Only if you're ready, darling. We have all the time in the world."

Benedict's eyes darkened with desire as he gazed at Y/N. With gentle but firm hands, he guided her to the edge of the desk. "Are you sure about this, my love?" he asked, his voice husky.

Y/N nodded, her eyes filled with trust and longing. "Yes, Benedict. I want you."

Slowly, reverently, Benedict joined their bodies. Y/N gasped at the new sensation, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He moved carefully, allowing her time to adjust.

"More," Y/N breathed after a moment. "Please, Benedict."

A smirk played on his lips as he gradually increased his pace. The room filled with their soft gasps and moans as they moved together, lost in passion.

As their climax approached, Benedict pulled away, finishing in a nearby handkerchief.

Y/N looked at him, confused. "What was that?"

"My seed," he explained gently. "I want to marry you properly before we risk creating a child."

Y/N's eyes widened with understanding, a blush creeping across her cheeks. "Oh," she whispered, her voice a mix of embarrassment and awe. "I hadn't even thought about... children."

Benedict smiled tenderly, cupping her face in his hands. "There's no need to be embarrassed, my love. It's all part of the beautiful journey we're embarking on together."

Y/N leaned into his touch, her heart swelling with emotion. "You're always so thoughtful, Benedict. It's one of the many reasons I love you."

"And I love you, my darling," Benedict replied, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "Now, we should probably make ourselves presentable before someone comes looking for us."

As they began to straighten their clothes and hair, Y/N couldn't help but giggle. "What will we tell people if they ask where we've been?"

Benedict's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Why, we were simply engaged in a heated debate about... art. Yes, art. That sounds believable, doesn't it?"

Y/N playfully swatted his arm. "You're incorrigible, Mr. Bridgerton."

"Only for you, Your Highness," he replied with a wink.

Benedict's eyes lit up with joy as he gazed at Y/N. "My love," he said softly, taking her hands in his, "shall we share our happiness with the world? Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

Y/N's heart soared at his words. She nodded, tears of joy glistening in her eyes. "Yes, Benedict. A thousand times yes!"

They shared a tender kiss, sealing their promise to each other. As they parted, Benedict's expression turned playful. "Well then, future Mrs. Bridgerton, shall we go scandalize the ton with our news?"

Y/N laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Lead the way, my love. I can't wait to see Lady Whistledown's column tomorrow!"

Hand in hand, they left the study, ready to face the world together. As they stepped into the ballroom, all eyes turned to them. The whispers began immediately, but Benedict and Y/N paid them no mind. They had eyes only for each other.

And just like that, their story became legend the tale of the Queen's daughter and the artistic Bridgerton son, whose rivalry turned to love against all odds.

[stsgluver]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 — geto suguru

synopsis. somewhere along the way, geto suguru had gone from being your greatest challenge academically to your greatest challenge emotionally

wc. 12.4k

tags. college/uni!au, supposed to be academic rivals to lovers but that lowkey became a subplot sorry, friends to lovers, fluff, mention of being sick , happy ending, not proofread, shoko tells you to have sex

a/n. hi!! this is my first long long fic so thank you to anyone who reads. sorry if it seems disjointed at any point, half of it was written several months ago and half in the last week <3

geto suguru was the bane of your existence to say the least.

if you could split your life into two, it would be distinctly separated as life before geto and life including geto. admittedly, you didn’t really remember life before geto – having been only a child – but from ten years old, he’d been a constant in your life. having moved from a small school where it was relatively easy to maintain your status as top of the class, you were suddenly put in a position where you weren’t the only kid with an above average level of intelligence.

so from ten years old, to now, at twenty, you have found yourself in constant competition with geto. scores didn’t matter as long as you beat him. shoko had started keeping track several years ago – a little tally chart in her notes app to record who was the highest scorer after tests. currently, geto was a win ahead of you, something which you weren’t proud to admit but you blamed it on the flu that had meant you’d missed a week and a half of lectures.

“so close yet so far.”

you jumped at the sound of a voice so close to you. it was a thursday morning, the library was relatively quiet and you’d been so engrossed in the sound of the keys as you typed that you hadn’t heard geto come up behind you. you were fully aware of him now though, his hot breath on the back of your neck as he loomed over you to no doubt read the answer you had been writing.

“maybe if i didn’t have someone breathing down the back of my neck, i’d be able to focus,” you countered, grabbing your bottle of water to quickly unscrew the cap and take a sip, hoping that the cool liquid could ease the heat in your cheeks. his hands were on the back of your chair as his eyes skimmed through your answer.

despite your rivalry that had been established on almost the first day of meeting, you and geto had always found yourself in similar circles. now, at university, the two of you were a part of a small quartet with your other close friends, gojo and shoko. both you and geto had majored in computer science (much to your delight), while gojo had majored in business and shoko in biomedicine. so not only were you stuck with him in your group, you two shared almost every single class together too.

he grinned down at you with that annoying smirk that you’d become all too familiar with, “you consider me a distraction?” anyone with eyes would say yes – with his long, dark hair twisted into a half up, half down do and a loose fitting shirt that showed off his toned arms. you didn’t have to fully look back at him to know why girls were constantly asking for his number.

“what i consider you is an annoyance.” brushing him off your chair, you opened a fresh tab. you still had catch up work, plus your usual studies from your small period off, hence why you had been at the library since it had first opened. you only had an afternoon lecture on a thursday so you’d sacrificed your usual sleeping in day to study.

the last thing you needed was geto playing teacher and critiquing your work.

the male in question laughed as he took a seat next to you, bringing out his own laptop that you half wanted to take a peek at. in less than a week, both of you had a large project due that accounted for a large percentage of your final grade for the year. you had the majority completed, but after reviewing your code, you’d realised that in your ill-state you’d made more errors than you’d realised (it would’ve arguably been more beneficial if you had just accepted defeat and done nothing for two weeks instead of trying). 

“i come bearing gifts,” a familiar voice called out far louder than he should have – gojo rarely entered a library, let alone bothered to learn basic etiquettes. the snowy-haired male had pushed his dark glasses up onto the top of his head, cup holder in one hand with three drinks from the local cafe and a white plastic bag in the other.

gojo took a seat on the other side of geto, dropping the bag unceremoniously on the circular table, its contents (sugary sweets plus some pastries) spilling everywhere. he was more gentle with the drinks and you could have kissed him for the iced caramel latte he passed across to you. you were only three hours in and you were ready to flake and go home.

“oh good,” geto grabbed one of the paper bags with chocolate-filled croissants (gojo only knew food associated with sugar), “some of us are going to be here a long while.” there was no subtlety as he nodded his head towards you, something you were willing to throw your half drunk water bottle at him for.

but as per usual, gojo missed the obvious social context cues and stared eyes wide at the two of you. “why? do we have a test?” 

the four of you had decided to take a language class together (specifically german) so even when you got busy during exams you knew that there would be at least twice a week when the four of you would be sitting at the back of a lecture hall together.

“since when did you study for tests?” geto scoffed, leaning back in his chair, stretching his arms out above his head.

gojo giggled at the notion he was there to study. he’d only come to the library because shoko had plans throughout the day and his only other friends in the whole world were you two. “i just need to know what lesson i’m going to skip.” 

his attendance was horrific. he took two weeks off in solidarity with you so you ‘didn’t feel bad for getting the flu’. if he still felt remotely hung over on sunday evening, after attending one of his regular saturday night parties, he would make the decision then that monday was not the day for him to be attending lectures. if he woke up with a ‘bad feeling’, he took that as a sign that he would 100% die in a freak accident if he attended a lecture and skipped. you would kill to have his trust fund to cushion you if you failed university.

“no satoru we don’t have a test,” you laughed at his relieved look and little ‘phew’ as he dramatically swiped his hand across his forehead. to show his gratitude he offered you one of his excessively sweet croissants which you happily accepted. you knew you needed to get a real lunch soon but you just needed to do a couple more hours of real work before you could slack off.

unlucky for you, those couple of hours turned into the rest of the time the library was officially opened for.

you and gojo had taken an hour long break for lunch, before taking back sushi for geto (on gojo, of course). then both you and geto were in a video call whilst gojo played on his phone, attending your lecture online since neither of you were bothered to make your way back to campus just to come back out to the library.

geto had shown you snippets of his project and you were 70% sure that you were slightly ahead of him. but you weren’t about to hedge your bets and slack off – not when you still need at least two points to put yourself on top again on shoko’s chart. gojo had left a while ago once shoko had messaged him that she was back at your shared apartment. 

“are you walking?” geto asked you as he slipped his laptop into his backpack. gojo had been kind enough to take all of the remaining sweets with him so you only had your textbooks to clear off of the table and the empty wrappers he’d left behind. 

you nodded, grimacing slightly at the window. it was dark outside; it wasn’t winter but you hadn’t completely transitioned to spring evenings when the sun wouldn’t set till beyond seven. “my place is only a ten minute walk.” only a ten minute walk in the drizzling rain for which you did not bring a coat. as large as it was on you, you didn’t think gojo’s hoodie would suffice in keeping you warm (he’d forgotten it at yours after a movie night).

“i’ll give you a lift. can’t have you getting sick again.” he teased, chuckling at his own joke as you shot him a faux glare, lightly nudging his arm as you two descended down the stairs of the library. there was no one else in the library at this point, and your footsteps seemed to echo against the cool tiles of the floor.

“fine,” you sarcastically dragged, although you were grateful for the alternative to walking. 

somewhere along the way, the line between rivals and friends had been blurred. for you, the line had only become messier on your eighteenth birthday when the four of you had dressed up in suits and gone to your local laser tag place. as aforementioned, you’d always been aware that geto was attractive but it wasn’t until the close proximity under the neon lights, when you were a duo against shoko and gojo, did you truly see it. a few gentle touches on your waist to pull you back behind a wall, several whispers in your ear where he’d duck down to your height and you were a goner. 

for the most part, you’d been able to keep it to yourself, focusing all of your energy into being statistically smarter than him as opposed to admitting – or even really acknowledging – your feelings. 

“i was right,” you said, slightly out of breath having just run from the entrance of the library to geto’s car (which was parked as far away as it possibly could’ve been because he’d gone to the gym before meeting you). the light drizzle of rain and turned borderline torental in the thirty seconds it had taken you to exit the library. geto gave you a confused look as he pulled his hair out of his half bun, a slight frizz due to the dampness caused by the light rain. “my first answer,” you clarified, “i was right.”

he was smirking again, the same confident know-it-all smirk, “i know. i like instilling a little bit of doubt, better my odds.” 

“you’re an ass.” you huffed, crossing your arms in front of yourself. you’d reread the question three times and rewritten it once, coming to the same conclusion as before, before giving up and checking the mark scheme that had told you you were right all along. 

“i’ll make you pay for fuel,” geto threatened as he turned on the ignition, reversing the car out of the parking space. his hand was on the back of your headrest as he peered out of the back window.

“you can’t make me pay when you were the one to offer me a lift,” you retorted, playing with the strings of gojo’s hoodie and trying to ignore the close proximity between you and the dark haired male next to you. lucky for you, geto’s car was full of distractions for your wandering eyes, memorabilia of the last three years of your lives all around you.

on the dashboard was a dent from when gojo had hit his head after geto had had to emergency break and the former did not have his seatbelt on (there was a little blood and gojo declared that these were his final moments). the jelly belly car freshener that hung from the mirror was the same one that you had bought him as a congratulations for passing his driving test. there was a polaroid of the four of you graduating hidden in the folded mirror above your head, just the corner peeking out. 

each of you had your own designated seats – gojo was usually in the passenger (you could tell by the sweet stash in the door), you sat behind gojo and shoko behind geto. 

the only downside to geto’s car was the fact the heating did not work whatsoever. since getting the car at seventeen, he said every year that he was going to get it fixed but always ended up having to spend money on far more important things for the car. such as the light up gear stick and customised car horn. you shivered lightly as you wrapped your arms further around yourself, but the wet hoodie did little to warm you up.

geto glanced at you from the corner of his eye and nodded his head towards the backseats. “i have a dry jacket in the back if you’d rather that.”

you contemplated it for a moment before ultimately deciding that you would like to spend the next eight minutes warm. slipping off gojo’s hoodie, you turned to reach behind you to grab geto’s black zip up and slip it on, leaving the hoodie behind for your other friend to claim back. he would more than likely be in here the next day anyways.

the rest of the car ride was mostly silent, other than you critiquing his driving on several occasions – which he claimed you were in no position to do since you did not have a licence of your own. you argued you were perfectly within your rights as he’d had to swerve to avoid a stray cat.

“thanks suguru,” you said as you took off your seatbelt and reached for your bag. he’d pulled up just outside of the entrance to your apartment so you’d only be caught in the rain for a fraction of a second. “do you want me to leave your jacket here?”

“anytime princess.” what had started off as a mocking when you were kids had become your designated nickname and you hated how much you now loved it when geto called you that. you could only hope he couldn’t see your flushed skin in the dim lights. “and don’t worry about it. give it back to me another time.”

you thanked him again, waving him off before you scurried inside and up the stairs to the fourth floor where your apartment with shoko was. the two of you had been in separate student accommodation in your first year, but after six months and several awful roommates had both chosen to find a small apartment to share together. both of you had part time jobs to afford it and while it added to the masses of work you already had with school, it was worth it.

it was only small – two bedrooms, a bathroom and an open kitchen and living room – but it was your little home. as of a weekend, it wasn’t uncommon for geto and gojo to be there too. of a friday evening, the four of you would be huddled in your living room with a random board game (usually cluedo) and an excessive amount of vodka.

“where have you been?” shoko asked slyly, laying across the sofa with a pen in one hand and her ipad in the other. there was a picture of a human heart on her screen, her scribbles annotating it messily. 

“library. suguru gave me a lift home,” you called out to her as you dropped your bag into your room, passing shoko as you headed for the fridge to find something to eat. pushing your hair up into a loose bun, you grabbed a fork for the pot of mango you’d picked up. “when did satoru leave?”

“he was only here for twenty minutes. this place is too small for him,” shoko dropped her stuff down onto the sofa, following you to your little kitchen area. she jumped up onto the counter, happily accepting the fruit you offered to her. “so, geto gave you a lift home then?” she eyed your change in hoodie from the one you’d left in that morning.

“don’t start,” you complained, grabbing another fork so she didn’t have to eat with her hands. it had been shoko’s current fixation to over analyse the relationship between you and geto. you’d made it very clear twelve months ago when she’d first come to you to ask what was going on that there was nothing there. nothing tangible anyways.

“no, i just think it’s so sweet and so gentlemanly of him,” shoko tucked her hair behind her ear as she spoke with a mouthful of mango, batting her eyelashes innocently, “don’t you?” 

your refusal to point blank answer the question is enough of an answer for her. “i think it’s late,” you backed away from shoko and dropped your used fork in the sink. you’d sort it out in the morning. “and i have an eight am class tomorrow.” 

“with geto,” shoko called out before you could fully close your door and you could hear her smile in her voice. you rested your forehead on the cool wood of the door and tried not to think too much about how right she was. it was embarrassing – you were a grown adult, not a teenager anymore. it should be easy to pull yourself together and get over your silly crush that arguably stemmed from the rivalry between the two of you.

he challenged you in a way you had never been before you craved the competition. that was what you wanted from him – a challenge, not his toned body or honey-smooth voice.

when she’d confronted you the first time about your feelings from geto, you’d been honest (the woman was a walking lie detector, there was no way you could have lied). told her that yes you had a small crush but that was all it was – a harmless little crush. when you’d continued on as normal and didn’t make any sort of moves or obvious hints that you still liked him like that, she’d dropped it. 

you’d hoped that that was the end of it.

however, her interest had been revived after the two of you had stayed up a few weeks prior after coming home from a party. shoko had had far more than is recommended for the average person alcohol-wise whereas you had mainly sobered up by now. the two of you were curled up under a blanket watching whatever romcom shoko had found whilst you had made two bowls of cereal.

“if you had to sleep with anyone we know right now or you’d die, who would it be?” shoko had asked with a mouthful that you cringed at. neither of you had bothered to change into appropriate attire or cleaned your faces so it was almost comical to see her in her short dress and smudged make-up eating cereal. 

you nudged her arm gently, careful not to cause any spillages, and with a snort asked, “why would i die if i didn’t have sex?”

“shh,” she was messy and unbalanced as she leaned across to press a finger to your lips, “answer the question.”

you hummed, tapping your spoon against your chin as you mulled over her question. you knew the answer – you were sure she did too – but you didn’t want to come across as desperate. “i don’t know…” there was still a buzz in your system, especially as you thought back on your night out and the crowd of other uni students you’d been with. “definitely not naoya.” you pretended to gag after you said his name and shoko laughed.

he had made the first hour of your outing less than fun as he trailed behind you like a lost puppy. geto was away visiting family, gojo was somewhere on the dancefloor, and shoko was getting drinks from someone so you were left alone and the zenin thought that this would be the day you would accept his love confessions. as if two years of hard ‘no’s’ would suddenly become a ‘yes’.

the mere suggestion made you actually want to be physically sick.  

“he is the worst kisser,” shoko complained, staring up at the ceiling like she was reliving a moment you didn’t even know had happened. you stared at her, mouth agape, because in all your years she had never once told you when this had happened.

“why have you kissed him?” not only was zenin naoya renowned for his lack of respect towards women, the girl sat inches from you was a proud, outspoken lesbian who made it very clear she had zero attraction to men whatsoever.

“gojo donkey dared me to.”

“ieiri.” you deadpanned at your best friend as she snickered at your judgement, waving her hand dismissively towards you. 

“you would do it too for a free drink,” she tried to justify and you shook your head. 

“have some standards.”

you could practically imagine how it played out, gojo in fits of laughter and naoya in shock as shoko pulled him into a kiss (he’d mask it up though and use it as evidence that even lesbians wanted him). if you were lucky, gojo recorded the incident but the likelihood that he would have had the forethought is a fifty-fifty if he was drinking. even when he does remember to record silly things like that on a night out, majority of the time the camera is pointing at him instead of the incident.

“you’d kiss geto for a free drink wouldn’t you?”

you almost choked on your own spit at the forwardness of her question.

“i’m just saying, this whole rivalry thing? fuck it out,” she raised her hands in defence at the appalled look on your face. “the tension is unbearable.”

“you’re unbearable,” you flipped her off.

“you’re late.”

you weren’t a violent person but you think that just one little slap to geto’s perfectly tanned face would have made you a slightly happier person. it wasn’t fair that him and gojo looked happy and wide awake at sixteen minutes past eight in the morning whilst you and shoko looked like you had just run a marathon.

which, in your opinion, you basically had.

and now you were at your stupid language class that you didn’t really even need to be taking with no morning coffee to wake you up.

you huffed as you slid into the seat next to geto, grateful that you always chose to sit near the back so it wasn’t too obvious you’d just come in late. nodding your head towards shoko, “someone locked themselves in the bathroom.”

not only had you not woken up to your first alarm so you were already behind in your usual routine, just as you were about to leave your apartment, you heard shoko calling out from the bathroom saying the door was broken. ensue a fifteen minute battle with you both trying to jiggle the door lock open.

“i said it was a sign we shouldn’t show up at all,” shoko shrugged, grabbing out her pouch of tobacco so she could roll herself her first cigarette of the day. neither of you were overly morning people – especially not without your daily drink and cigarette (respectively of course, shoko found coffee to be too bitter and you weren’t a big fan of smoking).

“shhh.” a girl a few rows in front of you turned her head, giving you all a displeased look.

“shh.” shoko repeated back mockingly, not so subtly raising both her middle fingers up at the back of the girl's head. you bit down on your bottom lip not to laugh loudly at her childishness. the brunette on your right then turned her head down towards gojo and geto, holding out her hands, “one of you pass me your notes.” gojo looked over at you both with a grin, turning his laptop screen to face you. on it? a game of online chess. which he was losing.

“genuinely asking, how have you not failed uni yet?” shoko shook her head in disbelief before turning her attention to geto, “cough up, princess.” she mimicked the nickname geto occasionally used for you and you had to fight every urge not to nudge her in the ribs.

“i don’t know how you plan on topping me if you’re not showing up to class on time,” geto tsked disappointingly towards you as he sent the notes from his laptop to your group chat so you’d both have them. shoko slumped back into her seat, ipad in her crossed lap as she downloaded the pdf.

you ignored his jab with an eye roll, pulling your laptop out of your bag to see what you’d missed. it wasn’t much and it was a beginner’s class too so if you were going to be late to a class because shoko got locked in a bathroom, this was the one to be late for. you were glad, though, that geto always typed his notes because his handwriting was terrible. otherwise you would have to accept you lost the first fifteen minutes of the lesson.

halfway through the class, both shoko and gojo left to go have a smoke and get food (again seperately, gojo had tried to smoke once and had spent the next five minutes on the floor coughing and vowed never to do it again). the white haired male had kindly offered to grab you hashbrowns from the small on campus cafe and you’d accepted the offer after your stomach had decided that it was not happy you’d skipped coffee and breakfast.

that left you and geto alone together. well, not really alone since you were in a half filled lecture hall but the point still stood.

“it looks good on you.” geto’s breath was hot against your ear as leaned down and spoke in a low voice as to not disturb the people around you – it was either that or he too was aware of the crush you’d been harbouring for him and enjoyed seeing your flushed expression. for the sake of your sanity, you assumed the former.

you swallowed at the close proximity between the two of you; he was so close you could practically feel the loose strands of his hair brush against you. he hadn’t bothered to tie it up but you know he’d meticulously straightened it this morning. if you turned your head, there would be less than an inch between you and–

is he complimenting you in his clothes?

you’d worn his and gojo’s hoodies an endless number of times before in the past, this wasn’t anything new. you blame your flusteredness on shoko and her constant teasing at the minute. for the last couple years you’d managed to keep yourself in check.

clearing your throat, your straightened up in the uncomfy red seat. “i was in a rush this morning. you can have it back now if you really want it.” you hoped not – once again it was poor weather and you were relying on this to keep you sheltered from the rain since, for reasons that you were not at fault for, you’d left in a hurry this morning.

out of the corner of your eye you could see geto shake his head as he settled back into his seat. you let out a small breath of relief as you finally got your own bubble of personal space back. “don’t worry about it princess.” 

geto wasn’t oblivious to girls being interested in him – he would brush it off with a laugh and a cocky remark – but you hoped and prayed he was oblivious to the fool you were making of yourself. 

after class, the four of you had headed to your favourite cafe – only a five minute walk from campus but it was tucked out of the way in a little alleyway so that it wasn’t as busy as some of the others. you didn’t need to give shoko your order with how often you came here, you all always got your regulars.

“me and tweedle dee here,” shoko linked her arm around gojo’s as she spoke, ignoring the way she forced gojo to slightly bend down awkwardly due to their height difference, “are going to grab food, you two go grab seats.” 

“c’mon,” geto’s hand was on the small of your back as he guided you between chairs and tables and you could feel the heat emanating from his palm through his jacket. for such a small space, there were far too many tables and only half occupied, leaving the rest as a labyrinth to work through.

“where are you going?” you asked with a small frown when he gently nudged you in the direction of the dimly light corner when there was a table for four right in the window still available. despite the initial shower this morning, the sun had begun to shine through.

“i’m going to the seats in the corner. y’know since there is a sofa,” geto added in a ‘duh’ tone like the sofa was the best thing in the world. it wasn’t even like they were that comfy – too low down and squishy in your opinion. 

“it’s sunny,” you pointed to the light pouring in but he gave you an uninterested look, shaking his head.

“rock, paper, scissors.”

you blinked twice up at him and then down to his hands – one held out in a palm and the other in a fist over the top. the silver of his rings contrasted with the warm colour of his skin and you had to force yourself to look back up at him and not stare shamelessly.  

“we’re adults, i’m not playing that with you.” you deadpanned. this was a gojo response – clearly living together meant that his antics were rubbing off on geto.

geto laughed quietly, blessing you with a teasing smile and raised eyebrow as he nudged you with his open palm and fist. kissing your teeth with your tongue, you muttered an insult about maturity under your breath as you mimicked his stance.

“corner seats it is princess,” geto grinned, hooking an arm around your shoulder to lead you to the sofa after you picked paper and he picked scissors. “do you think that counted as another point to me?” the tease in his voice was evident and the smirk on his lips only riled you up more. not even his arm around you could distract you from your sore loser behaviour.

“no,” you said quickly and with a tone that had him laughing to himself. you weren’t about to lose another point over a child’s game that was just pure luck. there was a lot more integrity behind the tally chart titled ‘who needs to go outside and touch grass more?’ (named by shoko, of course).

the two of you sat next to each other, facing towards the counter so you could see as shoko pointed to various things on the menu and pastries on display. you were all too aware of how close you were when geto knocked his knee against yours as he slipped off his hoodie.

“i can pick you up if you’re going to the library tomorrow,” geto offered as he crossed one leg over the other. his and gojo’s apartment was in the other direction of the campus to yours, but you two did share a morning class – assuming he was driving in and not making the five minute walk then it wasn’t out of his way for you.

“are you going straight after class?” you turned your head to look at up, seeing him already looking down at you. in only his t-shirt, there was a sliver of black ink peeking out from beneath his sleeve.

several months after his eighteenth birthday, you, him, gojo and shoko had gone out for the evening and returned with matching tattoos of koi betta fish. his was fully inked in on his upper arm whereas gojo’s was just the outline on the back of his shoulder. your’s was a mixture of the two and on your lower hip whereas shoko’s was on her wrist. initially it had been both blue and black ink but the blue had begun to fade. 

“i need to go to the gym and then i’ll join you.”

the gym where he would most definitely be removing that shirt and not only show off the tattoo on his arm but the larger one on his back too. this one was much larger – a dragon that swirled around the shape of his spine. he always said that in another life, he would be training to become a tattoo artist and not studying computer science. 

“why aren’t we sat in the sun?” you turned away from geto to look over at shoko, the female in question holding a tray as she raised a brow at the two of you, displeased by your choice of seating. she, much like you, hated the sofas and would have much rather been in the window seats.

geto shrugged, pointing at you accusingly, like he wasn’t the one who wanted to sit here. “yn lost rock, paper, scissors.”

“yn,” gojo whined as he dropped into the sofa seat opposite geto, “one job.” he complained, shaking his head in a disappointing manner, like he cared so much where you sat and was not aching to eat his donut with a sickening amount of icing. you grimaced at his tastes.

“who’s going to meimei’s party saturday?” shoko asked once she’d divided up everyone’s orders. a caramel latte and muffin for you, croissant and black coffee for geto and a blueberry muffin and black coffee for herself.

meimei was a couple years older than all of you but since week one of university, her house had been the go to one at least once every couple of weeks. gojo and geto always got an invite – meimei would personally message them – whereas you and shoko showed up as their unofficial plus ones. it didn’t bother either of you, you were there to drink, not to hang out with the slightly odd and promiscuous woman. 

“yeah,” geto nodded, scrunching his nose up at the bitterness of his drink. you heavily judged both him and shoko for forcing themselves to drink a drink they barely liked. “if satoru goes.”

“i am 100% going,” gojo spoke with a mouthful, dark glasses pushed up onto the top of his head, “i need to redeem myself.”

“what after the dance floor incident?” you giggled, earning a kick under the table from the white haired male. after several drinks too many at someone’s house party, gojo had managed to create a circle in the centre of the living-room-turned-dance-floor. it was entertaining to watch him pull people in and out to dance with him… until the drinks caught up to him and he vomited everywhere. this was not at meimei’s luckily, or you don’t think he’d ever be allowed back

“shush! people won’t forget if you keep reminding them,” gojo whined, earning a sarcastic pat on the shoulder from shoko. 

“are you coming?” geto asked you as though the answer wasn’t obvious. when did one of the four of you ever do anything without the others?

nonetheless, you glanced over at gojo who was looking expectantly at you, “am i really getting a choice?”

“nope!” gojo grinned.

“you’ll pick us all up?” shoko smiled uncharacteristically sweetly towards geto who rolled his eyes and nodded. he was the only one with the car but both he and shoko had licences. though he seemed hard done by in his response, he wasn’t the biggest drinker and even less so compared to shoko. he was the unspoken designated driver.

“black is your colour,” shoko complimented as she reached past you for the straighteners. you thanked her through gritted teeth as you held a bobby pin between your lips, attempting to fix your hair with another one in your hands.

the two of you were in the same shared bathroom that shoko had gotten herself locked in several days prior. your sink was covered in the various skincare and make up products you used. the two plug sockets were occupied with your straighteners and hair dryer. it was a chaotic mess that would be tomorrow’s fun activity in your hungover state.

friday had gone by quickly, geto had even showed up at your apartment to take you to your first class before you went to the library together. you’d discussed both of your projects but for the most part you’d worked in a comfortable silence. in your lunch break, you’d gone to your local chinese takeaway and eaten in his car. for a brief moment, you’d indulged yourself in what your life could be as his girlfriend, spending each of your days like this with him. 

sighing, you slipped a bobby pin into the back of your hair. in a couple years time once you’d graduated and started your careers (albeit in the same or at the very least similar industries), your feelings for geto would dissipate into nothing more than the whisper of a memory. it was the competition, you reminded yourself. that was what created the ‘tension’ (as shoko put it) that had led you to believe you had these feelings.

you could laugh at yourself for how ridiculous and pathetic your thoughts sounded.

tonight however, that was not of concern. tonight, the only focus was on getting wasted.

you had dressed up in a tight fitting black dress that stopped midthigh specially for the occasion while shoko had opted for wide leg pants and a butterfly crop top. 

specifically the butterfly crop top that a mutual fashion student friend of yours had made for her.

you raised an eyebrow at her once you felt your hair was securely up, dragging your eyes up and down the top she was wearing, “are you coming back tonight or…?” 

“or am i getting laid by a certain very hot girl with blue hair? i’m getting laid,” shoko blew you a kiss with a grin. “you should try it some time,” she wriggled her eyebrows at you and it didn’t take a genius to know who she was hinting at.

in regards to her activities post-meimei’s, she had been getting closer to utahime over the last few months. you both knew her from high school but she’d avoided your group like the plague because of her strong disliking for gojo. you loved gojo, you really did, but to some he could come across as a bit much to those who didn’t know him well enough. 

at university, however, where there was a bit more space between the four of you (not by much), utahime and shoko had managed to get more alone time. despite her confident and cocky nature, shoko’s soft affection for the blue haired girl was obvious and you had fully encouraged her to ask her on the first date several months back.

“you know that means i’m going to be stuck with dumb and dumber all evening,” you complained light-heartedly as you stepped out of the bathroom to try and find the shoes you’d be wearing. geto would be happy to hear that though – it meant he only had to find you and gojo when it came to coming home.

the four of you had only ever stayed over at meimei’s once. her house was massive and you all took over one of her guest bedrooms which in itself made for a fun sleepover. however, there’d been a group of guys – zenin naoya included – who’d been trying to coax you and shoko with them to a different room. moving on from then, geto had made it a point to almost always drive.

“oh no, is that such a hardship for you?”

you held up your finger to the brunette who was peering around the doorframe of the bathroom to smirk at you. 

“you need to drop this.”

“nope,” shoko slipped past you, reaching into a pile of clothes to grab your silver strappy heels you were searching for. your living room was in just as much of a state as the bathroom with trial outfits and various accessories laid out on the sofa and floors. “i need some sort of fun here.” you scoffed at her reasoning, her fun at your expense, but still thanked her for finding your shoes.

the only clear space was on the small coffee table in front of the sofas where half a bottle of passionfruit vodka sat with two empty shot glasses. as you perched yourself on the edge of the sofa arm to start tying up your heels, shoko took it upon herself to pour the two of you another shot for the night. 

you grimaced as shoko handed you a full shot glass, but interlocked your arm with hers nonetheless. “three, two, one,” she counted down before you both poured the drinks into your mouths. the distinctive after taste ensued and you coughed at the overwhelmingness. 

“that’s nasty,” you stuck your tongue out and shoko snickered at you, having been completely unphased. 

a low rumbling could be heard outside through the open window of your apartment. you glanced at the clock – they were five minutes late. not that it bothered you since you were still struggling untangling the straps of your other shoe. 

“geto’s here,” shoko said, closing the window and pulling the curtains closed. you hummed in acknowledgement, muttering an ‘almost done’ when the vibrating sound of her phone went off. a picture of gojo wearing bright green goggles flashed up on the screen as shoko answered it. “yeah? yn’s just taking forever to put her shoes on.” you gave her a look. “yeah, i’ll tell her. geto told you to hurry up.”

“i am hurrying,” you shot back, tying the last bow. standing up, you pulled the skirt of your dress down so you didn’t flash anyone and did a little spin. “how do i look?”

“hot. we’re coming down now.”

“–and don’t accept drugs from strangers, i’m not dealing with another satoru situation,” geto said as he listed off the do’s and don’t’s for the evening. do’s including make sure you are always with someone you know and don’t’s including speaking to zenin naoya. not that the latter would be a difficult task. 

gojo was dressed in a white fishnet top and he’d opted to forgo his glasses for the evening. instead, he’d decorated his eyes with blue eyeshadow and gems – his usual going out look since he’d watched euphoria. in the drivers seat, geto looked far more casual in an oversized grey top and baggy jeans but it wouldn’t be far fetched to say that he stood out the most out of the four of you. his sun kissed skin and sharp eyes were alluring to anyone who saw him. the most effort he’d put into his appearance was pulling his half back into his half bun, pulling some baby hairs out at the front to frame his features.

you’d caught yourself watching him from your seat one too many times with shoko even nudging your knee once.

“me?” gojo gasped from his passenger seat, looking back at you and shoko like geto had made some outlandish statement.

“don’t you remember that time you took drugs from that girl because you thought she’d let you hit after,” shoko reminded with an unlit cigarette between her lips (no smoking in the car – another don’t on geto’s list). 

gojo cleared his throat, holding up his hands in defence, “look guys, i will be the first to admit it wasn’t my finest moment.”

that was an understatement. you’d been the one to find him after another party goer had recognised you as one of his friends and told you he was having a bad reaction. you almost felt bad when you found him upstairs in a bath, with a shower running all over him.

“you guys weren’t the ones who had to stay up till 4am while he cried in the bathroom,” geto shuddered at the memory and you were just grateful he’d taken over gojo’s care as soon as you’d called him.

“nope but i did have 15 voicemails from him the next day.”

again, gojo’s head snapped back, singling out only you this time, dread on his features. “you’ve never shown me these.” despite probably going out the most out of the four of you, his tolerance for alcohol was pitiful and his tolerance for any sort of substance was ten times worse. if it seemed like he had no filter beforehand, an under the influence gojo had to be supervised so he didn’t say something to the wrong person and ended up in a&e.

“i’m saving them for a special occasion,” you patted the top of his fluffy (and now also glittery) hair. it would probably end up in your annual slideshows you all did for new years eve. an ongoing tradition where each of you picked out your highlights of the year and made powerpoints with them.

once at meimei’s and out of the car, shoko gave you a quick side hug and told you to stay safe. “i am going to love you and leave you all,” she dramatically waved you away with one hand, the other holding a lighter up to the cigarette in her mouth. presumably, utahime was already somewhere around the back of the house waiting for shoko as opposed to inside where there were several dozen bodies already packed. “have a wonderful evening i will see you tomorrow for the debrief.”

the debrief in question being the mandatory coffee session post party to send each other pictures and make fun of how hungover gojo inevitably is.

“yn, come with me!” gojo slipped his hand into yours and dragged you through the sea of bodies out into the makeshift bar that had been set up in the corner of the living room. meimei’s house was massive, this room alone was probably larger than your entire apartment. geto had followed after you but he’d turned towards the crowd, opting to socialise over drinking whatever concoction gojo was about to make.

turning your attention back to the white haired male beside you, you cringe at the amount of liquid in the red cups. it was oddly graceful how gojo opened cupboards and grabbed bottles with no hesitation, haphazardly pouring them into each cup.

“how do you know where everything is?” you asked, leaning over to take a sniff from the drinks. surprisingly, it wasn’t awful, but you put that down to the lemon flavoured mixer he’d just added.

gojo lightly pushed your head back, shooing you away as he held up a bottle of malibu. after taking a neat sip (which you wanted to point out was not very hygienic but with what he was about to out into his body you doubted he cared), he poured in the final addition to your drinks. “look i’m number one meimei hater but i’d lying if i said i wasn’t a regular at this establishment.”

you scrunched up your nose at regularly attending a place like this. it was fun to a certain extent you could admit, but there was only so much of the pounding music and sweaty bodies that you could handle. “you need a life. beyond women,” you added once you caught his eye watching a short-haired ginger girl weaving through the crowd.

“oh honey i do. i dabble in both,” he winked at the pink haired boy following behind the girl and you quickly nudged him in the stomach with your elbow. you wanted at least ten minutes before he got distracted and tried to sleep with the first person that walks past him. gojo pouted, whining quietly, before making a miraculous recovery in order to hold out your drink to you. “try this.”

there was no countdown this time before you both began drinking. the alcohol burned your throat and the odd mixture of flavours had you calling it quits once the red cup was only halfway empty. you coughed twice as you dropped the drink back onto the table, wiping the excess liquid off of your lips. gojo committed to the entire drink, squeezing the plastic once he’d finished.

“delicious,” he grinned, already looking in the cupboards again to start up another mess. this was how he’d get borderline paralytic so quickly on nights out.

looking off at the crowd of huddled bodies ahead of you, it wasn’t difficult to spot geto who stood a head taller than everyone else. meimei had set up multi-coloured strobe lights that danced red and blue across his skin. he looked so effortlessly gorgeous. 

you couldn’t help but feel disheartened as he ducked his head down to speak to the girl in front of him. you didn’t know her but you recognised her from one of your lectures – one that you also shared with geto and there was no doubt in your mind she’d noticed him before. who wouldn’t have?

reaching for your red cup again, you decided that you could wallow in self pity all you want but you were not doing that sober.

“he looks at you like that too.”

“huh?”

your gaze shifted from geto and the unnamed girl to gojo. the male in question had one hand on a bottle of vodka and one hand on his hip as he looked at you accusingly. your face felt hot at the insinuation that you’d been looking at your mutual best friend in a certain way and you tried to take the vodka bottle from his hand.

gojo held it up above your head, easily out of reach from you as he too stood taller than everyone else. “look all i’m saying is that he was not very happy that you were asking nanami kento for advice on your project and not him.”

you frowned at the fact, willing yourself not to overthink what that could mean. nothing, is what it meant. 

you hadn’t even realised geto had still been in class when you’d spoken to nanami as he’d said he was going to the gym. the blond was smart and with you making a mess of your code when you were sick, you’d wanted a fresh set of eyes on it now that you’d somewhat cleaned it.

“why would i ask him? so he can sabotage me?” you countered. this was your chance to even the scoreboard in shoko’s notes.

“you are so smart, yn, so so smart,” gojo patted your head affectionately, arm slipping around your shoulders as he tugged you close to his body. he smelt like shoko, having stolen one of her perfumes the last time he was over. “and yet you’re dumb as fuck.”

“give me that.” you ignored the insult, which was pretty ironic coming from him of all people, and snatched the bottle from him, unscrewing the cap to fill up your cup.

“you can’t avoid it forever,” gojo sung but you were done listening to his unsolicited opinions, opting instead to console yourself with alcohol.

“have i ever told you how pretty your eyes are suguru?”

“you have. several times. all in the last five minutes actually,” geto sighed and you snickered at the two next to you. 

unsurprisingly, gojo was using geto as a crutch (more like he was being dragged along by the latter but it was all the same) having drunk more than his body could handle. you were faring slightly better but only after you’d given up on your heels. the grass was uncomfortably damp beneath your feet but it was better than falling headfirst into the mud. 

“goodie!” the white haired male giggled, almost tripping onto the ground as he struggled to keep up. you were glad you lived in separate apartments –  you did not want to be there when gojo started coming down from the bubble he was in and spent the next several hours with his head in the toilet.

“you take the front seat,” geto nodded his head towards the passenger side, “i’m going to lay him in the back.”

you obliged with a quick nod, skipping to the seat next to his. there was still the buzz of alcohol in your system and you know had it not been for geto calling it a night, you’d still be in the thrum of people dancing. you were shocked that there had been no noise complaints given the crowds of probably hundreds of students and the loud music still blasting despite having gone well past midnight.

you giggled to yourself as you recorded geto struggle to fit gojo into the backseat. he was like a large child; awkward and stiff and too tall for the small space. by the time geto’d finally managed to get the seatbelt around him, he was practically passed out and leaning across the backseats. you sent the video across to shoko.

“have you heard from ieiri?” geto asked as he slipped into the driver’s seat, pushing the key into the ignition but not turning it. your heart swelled at the concern he held for all of you – ever the gentleman. he’d been the one to help you untie your heels and held them in one hand as he held gojo up with the other, and now he was worried about the final piece of your group who’d already been clear she wasn’t coming home with you. it was basic really, a bare minimum one could even argue, but you were drunk and your feelings were already all over the place.

“yep,” you nodded, scrolling to your most recent message that she’d sent to you about twenty minutes ago saying that she was leaving meimei’s. leaning across the console so that there is only a few inches between your face and geto’s, you hold a finger to your lips and whisper, “she’s with her girlfriend but you’re not supposed to know that.”

it wasn’t not not a secret that utahime and shoko were seeing each other but shoko had been trying to refrain from using ‘girlfriend’ because it was still early days and she didn’t want to scare her off. utahime had never been in a publicly lesbian relationship before.

“mhmm. i won’t tell.” you were close enough to smell the mint on his breath (he probably went out for a smoke at one point) and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing down at his lips. they were a soft pink and slightly damp from where his tongue had swiped across. in the corner of his lips was a small hole where he used to have a ring. you wondered what the cool metal would have felt like if you kissed him.

the sound of gojo muttering in his sleep brought you back to your senses, somewhat, and you quickly seated yourself back into the passenger seat. you could only hope that the drunken execution was as smooth as you thought it was in your head as you prayed geto didn’t notice your blatant glances.

you could see geto looking over at you out of the corner of your eye and you wanted to shrink away into the seat. you should’ve let gojo pour you another one of those awful drinks. he opened his mouth to say something but when you remained focused on pulling down the skirt of your dress, he chose to just start the car.

a ping from your phone had you frowning at an unknown number sending you ‘hi’. the follow up ‘it’s todo’ and ‘are you still here?’ had you groaning in annoyance at yourself.

“are you okay?” geto glanced at you, worry flashing across his features. you weren’t sure if it was for you or if he was concerned that you were about to be sick in his precious car.

“i gave todo my number,” you sighed. you could vaguely remember doing it after he’d joined you, gojo and several others for jello shots. after seeing geto with the same girl from your tuesday morning lectures, you hadn’t hesitated when todo had asked for your number. a futile attempt at getting back at the male sat to your right. you were already embarrassed by your actions now, you didn’t want to know how you’d feel tomorrow when you were sober.

if you turned your head, you would have seen the way geto’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, the skin of his knuckles turning white. but you didn’t and his voice was unsuspiciously calm as he spoke. “did you want his number?”

“no, maybe, i don’t know,” you rambled out in quick succession, hands moving in front of yourself as you spoke. you had wanted his number but you didn’t want it because it was his number. maybe this was an opportunity for you to stop with your silly crush. maybe you did want his number. taking half a moment, you continued, “well, i mean he’s not not attractive? but–” i want you. 

“but?” geto repeated when you stopped yourself mid-sentence. resting your head against the headrest, you turned to look at him. you found yourself tracing the outline of his side profile with your eyes – from the stray hairs that had clung to his forehead from sweat due to the heat at meimei’s, his brows that were furrowed as his dark eyes stared on ahead at the quiet roads, the soft shape of his nose down to his lips that you desperately wanted to ki– “you’re staring.”

you glanced at the intersection where you’d stopped because of the red light shining down at you, then back to geto who’s full attention was on you now. his own eyes were wandering across you now but his action seemed one of concern than your blatant admiration.

“do you…” you began, all inhibition foregone as you found yourself leaning across the console again towards him. geto’s hands dropped down from steering wheel to lightly hold your shoulders to ensure you didn’t sleep. it didn’t stop you from moving closer – he wasn’t trying to.

“do i…?”

geto wasn’t stopping you but he wasn’t encouraging you either. you stilled entirely when your faces had only a couple of centimetres away from each other. “would you stop me if i kissed you?” your voice was no louder than a whisper to the point you weren’t even sure if he had heard you.

there was a moment, a moment that you swear was real and not a figment of your drunken imagination, where you think geto was fully contemplating your question, just about to close the gap. the harsh sound of a horn ruined the trance you both seemed to be under and geto was back to focusing solely on the road.

you hurriedly settled back into your seat, running your hands across your face and pushing the stray hairs away from your face. your heart was racing, whether it was from the alcohol, the jumpscare from the horn or the realisation of what you almost just did, you weren’t sure.

“jeez, what did satoru give you?” he muttered aloud, though more to himself than you or the sleeping male in the backseat. his little snores may have been endearing if you didn’t also blame him for everything that just took place. ‘he looks at you like that too’ – he owed you at least a week's worth of coffee and doughnuts for putting the thoughts in your head.

“that was ages ago, i’m clear minded.” you were not clear minded at all. you wished shoko was here. you wish you weren’t.

“sure you are,” geto scoffed quietly under his breath. if he was annoyed at you, you needed to start plotting how you’d avoid him for the next few years.

“satoru said something,” you said when the silence became so unbearable you thought your mind would simply implode. the roads were familiar but you knew you still had a while before you got to your apartment. assuming geto didn’t banish you to the side of the street for trying to kiss him.

geto was frowning again and you wanted nothing more for the lines to disappear from his forehead. he was too pretty to get wrinkles. “what did he say?”

“what did you say?” you spun around in your seat to see the white haired male unceremoniously spread across the backseats, mouth hanging open. absolutely no help, as per. “fuck, he’s still asleep.” you closed your eyes as you thought back to your conversation with gojo when you’d first gotten to meimei’s. “he said you didn’t like i went to kento for help.”

“that means i want to kiss you?” geto seemed almost… amused? his usual confident demeanour seemed to be returning as he shot you a glance, the tension from his shoulders dissipating.  

“no, ieiri said that. kinda.” you chose to leave out the specific explicit detail of what shoko actually implied. the hole was deep enough, you didn’t need to dig any further.

“why aren’t you saying anything?” you asked after several beats.

“because you’re drunk.”

“oh.” what did that even mean?

you picked at the black nail varnish on your nails, willing the minutes to go by faster. maybe if you’re lucky you won’t remember any of this tomorrow and geto will pity you enough to never remind you.

“i would let you kiss me,” geto spoke so quietly you were scared you’d misheard him. you even looked back at gojo for confirmation that he had in fact just said those words. he was, however, still asleep and still useless. with one hand staying on the steering wheel, geto used the other to gently stop you from ruining your nail varnish any further. “would you let me kiss you?”

you were finding it hard not to smile like a little kid. you didn’t care what this meant – geto suguru said that he would let you kiss him. a win is a win. “depends if you’re good or not. i have standards, y’know.”

“of course,” he patted your thigh twice before returning his hands to the steering wheel. if you thought your heart was racing before, it was now running loops at a thousand miles per hour. 

several minutes later, geto pulled the car to a final stop. “this is your place,” he said but you weren’t really focused on that, you were entirely focused on him. the car wasn’t moving anymore and he could look and speak (and maybe even kiss you) without any car horns or other external distractions. 

except you weren’t entirely right in that assumption as your shameless staring was interrupted by a particular loud snore from the backseat.

you forgot gojo was still there.

letting out a quiet sigh, you picked up your shoes from behind geto’s seat and pointed several stories up to your apartment. looking up at geto as pathetically as you could muster, since not even embarrassment would convince you to walk on the pebbled path, you asked, “help me?” 

not another word was spoken between the two of you until you had entered your apartment. geto had lifted you from the car bridal style and you’d cherished the few seconds so close to him. he set you down once you were in the building of your apartment but stayed by your side as you walked up the stairs.

“drink this,” geto handed you a glass of tap water he had poured and you thank him quietly as you sip it. he avoided eye contact with you as he passed by you in the direction of your bedroom. when he came back out several moments later he gestured for you to enter the room. “i laid out some clothes for you and put out some paracetamol, you’re going to have an awful headache when you wake up. so whilst you’re being pathetic here, i’m going to be up bright and early finishing that project. then it’ll be me two up.”

you laughed quietly at the notion, walking past him. “thank you suguru.” tiredness was beginning to seep deep into your bones and you craved the softness of your mattress more than you did his attention right now. 

geto was still stood in the doorway, watching you from afar. clearing his throat, he pointed to the keys in his hand – keys for his car, your apartment, his apartment and the sweet safe he kept hidden from gojo. “i’ll lock the door with my spare key. night princess.”

you were an idiot who was never drinking again – that was your only thought when you woke up.

after taking the paracetamol that geto had left for you and finishing the glass of water off, you waited another ten minutes for the painkillers to kick in and subside your headache and then you just lay there. last night definitely wasn’t your worst but it was far from your best. between unopened messages from todo and a large question mark over your friendship with geto, you just wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

‘i would let you kiss me.’

geto suguru would let you kiss him. was that a confession in itself? you groaned, you wished the world was black and white and that was exactly what was meant and you knew that and didn’t have a voice in the back of your head conjuring up twenty other possible meanings.

you’d skipped your usual debrief with the others, sending shoko a message that you were headed straight to the library. she knew your project was important but she also knew that you’d had closer deadlines and still attended both the saturday night party and following debrief. still, she didn’t push you to come and just told you that you’d talk in the evening when you were both home before offering to grab you something sweet from the shops.

you weren’t lying about going to the library – you just left out the whole geto moment. 

after showering and eating some food, you didn’t get to the library till gone noon. nanami was already down there and you apologised for being late. why you arranged to work with him the day after going out, you weren’t entirely sure, but past you clearly expected you to make a miraculous recovery.

several bottles of water and paracetamol kept you functioning enough that you were able to make good progress on your work with nanami proof checking every now and then. gojo’s voice was in the back of your head – you could be spending your time with geto doing this instead of nanami.

that was no hate to nanami, you thought he was super sweet and helpful, but he wasn’t geto. 

you weren’t sure what had been discussed at the debrief but you had received several more cryptic messages from shoko that had made you put your phone on do not disturb. you were already reliving last night’s car ride home over and over in your head, you didn’t need to know everyone else was too.

with the evening creeping closer and the snacks that nanami had brought dwindled, the blond stood up from his seat beside you and nodded downstairs. “i’m heading down to the vending machine, do you want me to grab you something?”

you shook your head, leaning back in your seat and rubbing your eyes. “i’ll just have whatever you get.”

you wanted desperately to go home and back to your bed to sleep for the next twelve hours (had to be up in time for your 8am close, though) but you were dreading talking to shoko about geto. the conversation would go one of two ways; either she already knew and would inevitably tease you or would have to explain it to her, get her live reaction and then be teased. neither seemed fun. 

the sound of footsteps had you turning your head in the direction of possible food. the library was too quiet for your stomach to rumble.

your smile dropped when you saw who was standing next to you.

“hey suguru,” you swallowed, sitting up straight in your chair and pushing your hair back behind your ears. being nonchalant didn’t matter now and no amount of pretending you didn’t try to kiss him last night would actually make it not happen. 

“hey,” he waved before stuffing both his hands in his pockets. he must have just come from the gym – his hair was still wet and he was in his usual post-gym hoodie and shorts. it was odd, to see geto not sure of what to say or odd, appearing almost out of place. a pang of guilt washes over you – you created this situation.

scratching the back of your neck, you pointed at nanami’s seat next to you on your right, “you looking for help from nanami too?”

you were joking, obviously, geto wouldn’t need his help, and you hoped your weak attempt at humour would at least ease some of the tension. he cracked a smile as he raised a brow at you, “why? you think i need it?”

“all i’m saying is don’t come crying to me when i come out on top,” you raised your hands in defence, smiling with him. geto rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue. he pulled out the seat to your left, dropping down next to you. 

that silence settled between the two of you again. geto was hard to read as he looked down at you, his dark eyes searching for something in yours. you swallowed again as you felt your throat dry up.

“are you avoiding me?”

your eyes widened at the forwardness although you tried to play off your shock (extremely unsuccessfully). “why would i possibly do that?” 

geto shrugged, that familiar smirk appearing on his lips, “i told you that i’d let you kiss me and you don’t even want to at least ask me what that means?”

“do i want to know what it means?” you countered quietly. you were glad the library was pretty much empty and you just hoped that nanami stayed downstairs as long as possible. it felt odd to be so publicly vulnerable.

“god," geto looked thoroughly amused as he tilted his head back towards the ceiling and then looked back at you. "you’re dense sometimes.”

you frowned, turning back to your laptop screen with your project. you weren’t here to be mocked. “if you’re here to make fun of me, i’m sorry, let’s just forget this all ever happ–”

geto spun you around, hands on both arms of your chair and suddenly you were back in his car with his hands on your shoulders and your lips brushing against his, “come with me.”

“right now? to where?” nanami was about to return any second, you couldn’t just up and leave him.

“i’ll take you to the sushi place you love,” geto offered, leaning over to close the screen of your laptop. like taking away your access to your project would lead you to the conclusion that going with him was the only possible outcome (as if though there was any outcome in any scenario where you didn’t pick him).

you hesitated at the idea. if he was asking you to go out after saying that you could kiss him it was definitely not a stretch to assume that your feelings were reciprocated.  “like… a date?”

“well princess that’s what girlfriends and boyfriends do is it not?” he posed the question in such a casual and natural manner that you had to bite down on your lower lip to try and control your grin. 

“yeah,” you nodded, interlacing one of your hands with his, “yeah, it is.”

you made a mental note to bring an extra coffee for nanami next lecture as an apology for disappearing.

bonus, several weeks later.

you had come out on top when it came to your project, being only several marks ahead of geto. he hadn’t been all that bothered, saying that he’d let you have the win since you’d had to resort to nanami for help (and he was head over heels for you and would probably flunk every future project and exam if it meant you’d be happy).

you found out that in the debrief that you missed, gojo and shoko practically demanded that geto ask you on a date because they couldn’t allow the two of you to keep going round in circles with each other any longer. needless to say your second debrief with shoko once you came home after your sushi date was a long one that covered both of your current love interests.

for the last few weeks, it had been about adjusting to the new dynamics that a relationship had brought to your group. it was little things like geto picking you up every morning before class and gojo having to decide who to third wheel when it came to parties.

one thing that had not changed was the existence of the list between you and geto.

the german test you had taken the day prior was the first test you’d both completed since your project. this was the deciding test as to who would be on top again.

“wake up, wake up,” you nudged geto’s arm repeatedly, the male in question groaning as he tried to hit you away with a pillow. if someone told you a month ago you’d be waking up in his shirt, in his bed, with him, you would have laughed. 

when your insistent poking didn’t work, you climbed ungracefully across him, your knees resting on either side of his slim waist. that caught his attention and he opened one eye to peer up at what you were doing,

“look,” you practically shoved your phone in his face, the screen too bright for his eyes to adjust to.

“okay?” geto squinted, trying to read the black text unsuccessfully.

you sighed when he didn’t get it fast enough, “it’s our test scores. i have seven more percent than you therefore i am winning.”

“hold on,” he grabbed your wrist as you tried to move your phone away from his face and pointed at the email your lecturer had sent out. “you’re still only second place in the class.”

“yeah wait,” you slipped your wrist from his grip, rereading the email twice as your face dropped in disbelief. 

“what?”

poor geto was wincing again as you spun the screen back to him again, “what the fuck?”

with an almost perfect score, for a class he spent more time playing dress to impress in, was the gojo satoru.

[soulaires]

cardan greenbriar headcanons

I would still adore you with your hands around my neck.

ꨄ︎ He is brutally and unapologetically mean when you first met, he doesn’t really ‘bully’ but makes it clear he HATES you (snickering/laughing w his friends whenever you are in sight or gives backhanded and sarcastic comments )

ꨄ︎ you don’t really entertain him most of the time which drove him MAD he doesn’t really understand why he’s craving for your attention so bad

ꨄ︎ he couldn’t really understand that he liked you o he’s just mean, he doesn’t know how to get your attention without the full on teasing

ꨄ︎ whenever you respond to his teasing, your words cut him like a knife (you hurt his ego, he hurt your pride 🤷‍♀️)

ꨄ︎ the moment he realized he likes you, he just deny, deny, deny, deny.

ꨄ︎ he absolutely hates the way how much he wants you, hates the way he craves for you, your presence, your touch dearly and hates the way he badly want to shut you up by a kiss

ꨄ︎ when he saw you kissed locke, he get irritated and finally starting to accept it

you are currently in a garden, reading a book when suddenly the bane of your existence voice greeted you,

“why did you fucking kissed locke??” Cardan marched towards you as he settled in front of you, you stood up, preparing to leave but he caught your arms.

“I ask you a question, princess. Answer it.” He remarked, the gap between you two is a bit close than ever.

“None of your business, royal highness.” You mocked.

“Why? Why does it have to be him? You have a terrible taste.”

“He’s a good kisser, I would not lie.” you try to get under his skin

“No, he Isn’t.” He argued

“Why do you always have to disagree to everything I say???”

“Because, my dear, If I agree with you, then both of us would be wrong.”

“You drive me crazy, Greenbriar.”

“How crazy?” He mused. “Show me how mad I drive you.”

you rolled your eyes as you start to wak out but cardan was quick to corner you in a tree, your heart is racing, tension is thick and yu could not breath.

he seems to caught onto that as he smirks, “my, my, my, darling, why is your heart racing so fast when I haven’t even touch you, hm?”

you can feel your cheeks heet up as yu raises your eyebrow, “and how would you even know that?”

he grabs your hand and put it on his chest, “because mine is.”

You let your arms away from his beating heart as if it burns you, “you should go.” you breathed out. “Yeah, you should definitely go, cardan.” You distanced yourself but not far enough from him.

“Go where, sweatheart?” his face is much more closer to yours, “here?” You can feel his breath on your shoulder. “Or maybe here?” It moved up to your neck.

“ca—cardan.” You stuttered. You fucking stuttered. You heard him chuckled and moved up to your ear

“Kiss me.” you heard his hoarse voice whispers to your ear.

“What?” Your eyes went wide as you backed away.

“I said, kiss me. Kiss me until I am sick of it. Kiss me until his taste is out of your lips, kiss me until all you can taste is me. Kiss me.” he begs. All cardan could only think was that he needed you. Needed to taste you, to have his arms around you, to hold you. He could not think straight. “please.”

“Shut up.” You said as you kissed him. Kissed him. You have no excuse for it, not a accidental, forced to, nada. You kissed him.

Cardan quickly melts into the kiss as he tugs you closer. His tongue swept along with your lips and you granted him the permission he craved. It drove him crazy. He dreamed of this very moment, of you, every damned night. Thought about it every hour, about how you would taste, it was a question and answer , a beginning to an end. Cardan Greenbriar could stay like this forever, with you in his arms, with your fingers on his hair. With your lips on his. He devoured you, tasting every bit of you and you heard his desperate whine.

You pulled away but he chased your lips. You guys stared at each other. “I–“ “this never happened.” You are quick to shut him off as you scurried away.

ꨄ︎ he drown himself with alcohol that night.

ꨄ︎ he tried to talk to you but was unsuccessful

ꨄ︎ one day, he had enough and planned to corner you

ꨄ︎ he finally caught on to you

“Lets talk. Stop running away from me.”

“No.”

“Yes.” He argued “stop being stubborn.”

“That was a mistake.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. A mistake that shall never repeat again.”

“Don’t say that.” His voice shakes

“Let’s forget it happened—“

“Again, it hurt me, princess. It hurt me.” Again.

“It’s probably for the best!” You burst out

“No, it is not! Will you please stop driving me crazy?”

“I wanted this—you for so long and im not losing the chance. You have no idea how i wanted this. The way you look at me... I want you to know what it does to me. I want you to feel it. Feel how crazy you make me.”

You went silent as you stepped closer to him, “show me, cardan.” You whispered and he did.

ꨄ︎ now that you guys are dating he became more protective of you, always looking out for you.

ꨄ︎ he would start the next Trojan War for you if you are not in his line of sight

ꨄ︎ oh boy he is CLINGYYYY

ꨄ︎ he calls you lots of pet names like “my queen, love, my love, my darling, sweetheart, angel etc.

ꨄ︎ writes you letters and poem!

ꨄ︎ he’s a sassy man.

ꨄ︎ He loves saying I love yous

ꨄ︎ gorgeous flowers every time!!!

ꨄ︎ his tail unashamedly wrapped around you every time

ꨄ︎ especially when he’s jealous possessive

[sirenologyyy]

RIGHT SIDE OF MY NECK!

neteyam x fem!metkayina reader

✧ summary : a certain sully boy can't admit he's smitten by one of the daughters of the olo'eyktan, but why would he? he's calculated and discerning and she's everything he wished he was.

✧ warnings : swearing (that's pretty much it LMAO)

✧ author's note : neteyam's 15, reader is older than tsireya by a year or so, some much needed lo'ak and neteyam brotherly bonding (after the trauma inducing hellscape that was atwow), lo'ak talking like a regular teenage boy, and in honor of it being December again, may i present to you, a neteyam fic that has been rotting in my drafts since April 🤩

A gravelly groan escapes your lips as your hands managed to shield your face, almost to hide yourself from the undisputable truth that you, along with your Tsireya, and your older brother Ao'nung had been roped into the evident mess that was to teach the children of Toruk Makto the ways of the Metkayina.

You weren't as prejudiced as Ao'nung, sneering at the Sully children whenever he'd run into them, so meticulously influenced by your mother's dislike towards Skypeople, let alone the Omaticaya.

You weren't as welcoming as your younger sister, who had greeted them with big grins that only further accentuated her dimples and her devout willingness to help Toruk Makto's family in any way she could. While you had resorted to mirthless smiles and polite nods whenever you'd come across one of them, it was unnatural, yes, Ao'nung was quite unfair with his treatment towards them, yes, but Tsireya's overall cheer and joviality was something you could not for the life of you reciprocate.

You were fine with them being here, although you couldn't say the same for most of your people.

The only real thorn in your side was the oldest.

Neteyam.

Oh how your blood boiled whenever you'd spot him in the crowd. Always so eager to help, so eager to please, so perfect, so good, it made you want to punch the living daylights out of him... Well, only slightly, that may be an exaggeration. Your hate for him might be particularly irrational but valid in all the worst ways.

"Can't you tell them I've been bitten by something?"

"No" Tsireya snorts.

"I've slipped collecting coconuts and dislocated my ankle"

"Stop moving so much sister, or I will mess up your hair"

It was like he was so anxious about keeping up the golden boy facade, what a show off, you thought. Going out of his way to help any way he could, helping carry baskets of dried fish across the village, pushing heavy boats off to sea, weaving baskets, seeing to the ilus, even the tsuraks at one point. It infuriated you. What did he had to gain?

If there was one thing you despised, it was try-hards.

And Neteyam Sully was the bane of your existence.

"Oh!" You had exclaimed, snapping your fingers. "You can tell them I have fallen off my ilu and got ripped apart by an akula"

Tsireya laughed. "Yes, like they would believe me"

With another scoff, you stare st your sister through the mirror, so engrossed in the braiding technique you'd requested for her to do on your hair. "I don't see why you're bringing me into your affairs sister, it is clear as day you only want to help out the Forest People because you like the way that boy kept looking at you yesterday"

Tsireya tugs at your half-finished braid, making you swear and rub at your head, bringing Tsireya some amusement out of this. "Now, be quiet, be still, let me do my job"

With a sour mood, you allow Tsireya to thread the shells you requested she put in, sitting up straighter. "Your job in being an absolute bitch?"

Tsireya sighs again, feeling her slump in frustration behind you. "Do you think it is so easy a job for me to constantly deal with your attitude?"

A smirk comes to your face as Tsireya knots your braid off. "Don't worry, all your efforts will be seen by Eywa, she might even make the boy tell you your hair looks nice today"

"Enough, Y/N" Tsireya says, standing up from her seat.

You stood as well, hooking your arm around Tsireya's as you left your pod. "Oh let me have my fun"

A dozen morbid thoughts suddenly flood Tsireya's mind. "If we do that I am afraid there will be nothing left of Awa'atlu when you are finished"

When you arrive, you immediately spot both the brothers sitting on the edge of the woven platform, their long legs dangling just above the water. They looked to be so immersed in a conversation that neither of them noticed you or Tsireya approach them, only when they were about 4 feet apart was when you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

"Oh great mother, is it just the two of you?" Says you, making both the boys stand up like springs.

"No, our sisters are coming, they aren't exactly good at being early to things" says the younger one, his eyes flicking to Tsireya every now and then, making you dizzy trying to hold eye contact with the boy.

"Hey Tsireya" He finally says, nodding at her sister who laughs again. It took everything in you not to start dry-heaving in front of them.

"Why do you sound so disappointed?" Neteyam wonders, another smirk playing at his thin lips as he looks at you.

Your forehead creases. "I am nothing of the sort, what about you? What has gotten you so chipper?"

"Nothing all that special, really" He replied, not even convincing himself.

You heftily exhaled through your nose, moving away from the group and walking up on the platform, taking one of the seaweed bands on your arm to bunch your hair up just to get it out of your face. Once you'd pull your hair through the band the final time, you turned around just to see Neteyam's head turn away, almost like it was a chain reaction.

You placed your hands over the dip of your hips, facing the odd group. "Now, where has our dear brother wandered off to? It's almost noon and he is nowhere in sight"

This makes the rest of them look around for Ao'nung, even the two brothers who you'd assumed wanted nothing to do with him after your brother had showed his blatant contempt towards them after he'd ridiculed them during their arrival.

"He must still be with Rotxo and the others, we must be patient" says Tsireya.

Your mind remained closed, throwing your hands up in the air only for them to land on her hips with a thwack. "We both know Ao'nung does not move like the tide, he is too stubborn, too hard in the head " you found yourself saying, prodding a finger at your forehead.

"Patience, sister" Tsireya admonishes calmly, making her way towards you as you placed your hands on the identation of your woven skirt. "We must not rush things, we allow things to come to us at their own pace"

"Alright, alright" you tell her half-heartedly.

"Hey! Sorry, are we late?"

You turn her head to spot the two Sully sisters jogging up to the beach, the youngest out of all of them went straight for Neteyam, watching as he scooped her up with no hesitation. "Where in Eywa's name were you two?" Neteyam wonders, eyeing his sisters curiously.

The older girl rolled her eyes, pointing her chin at the youngest. "Couldn't decide on which skirt she wanted to wear"

The little girl pouts. "I didn't know which one I wanted!" She protested, her ears drooping down.

"She had two to choose from" the older sister groaned. Eyes finding yours as her grin widens, you chuckle to yourselves, having sisters was never a dull moment.

You two had bonded over that when you first helped her with her chores, although she seemed reluctant at first she accepted. Neither of you got anything done as you both found that snacking on dried seaweed and exchanging stories about your lives proved to be more fun.

"Maybe he isn't coming" says Neteyam's younger brother, subtly inching towards Tsireya while keeping everyone under the impression that he was trying to find Ao'nung just like she was, but in truth, all he wanted was to stand beside her. Tsireya didn't pick up on it at all, being the oblivious person she was, but Neteyam did, quietly chuckling to himself as he puts Tuk down, watching as she sprints towards the sand at full speed.

You shook your head at the sound of Tsireya's giggles and walks off the diving platform as well, making your way towards the beach to stretch your legs, walking along the coastline trying to kill time. That is until something tugs at your skirt, you turned around to see who it was but then looks down to see Neteyam's youngest sister, proudly holding a small conch shell in her hands, beaming up at you.

"They look just like the ones in your hair!" She exclaimed, a gigantic grin spreading across her face as you crouched to her level, taking the shell from her hands to study it. "It's a light purple, you don't have any purple shells yet"

"You're right, I don't have any purple shells in my hair yet do I?" You say in genuine amazement, holding it up against the sun, feeling the little girl scoot closer to you, but the shell had suddenly started to sprout 6 legs and you dropped it, startled by the animal and by the little girl's scream, you watch as it scurries back into the water, gone forever.

You turned back to the little girl who was visibly upset, another frown slowly forming on her face before you placed your hands on the little girl's shoulders. "Hey, we'll find another one around here somewhere, don't be upset"

She huffed, her shoulders rising and falling. "I didn't know there was something inside it, I really didn't"

You shook your head. "Neither did I, we both didn't know" you assured the younger girl, cupping her round face as her frown slowly started to shift into a smile. "Look, if we need to do this properly and find shells for my hair, I'm gunna need to know your name"

"Tuk!" She says. "My name's Tuk!"

"It's very nice to meet you Tuk"

"Really?" She giggled as you nodded. "What about you? What's your name?"

You beckoned her closer with a simple gesture of your fingers as you whispered your name into her ear.

"You've got a very pretty name" Tuk whispers as well, hiding her face behind her hands as she giggled.

"So do you" You had whispered all the same.

Tuk then looks back at the diving platform, and then back at you. "Y'know I think my brother is staring at you"

"Oh yeah? Why do you think that is so?"

The little girl scratches her head. "I don't know, he only stares at things he thinks looks nice or looks weird"

You grinned. "Does your brother think I look nice or weird?"

Tuk blinks. "I don't think you look weird"

"Would he think that?" Ka'leia emphasized.

"Probably" Tuk replies honestly, looking back at the diving platform again. "Why else does he keep staring at you?"

It made you think, it made your mind spiral into the bottomless void of memories in which you had caught a pair of warm amber eyes catch yours, and every time you did it made your heart stutter, however unfortunate it may be. "I'm not so sure either"

"Neteyam's weird" Tuk deduced.

You snort. "Yeah, he's weird"

Silence settles between you, but not for long as Tuk takes your hand and pulls you up. "Can we go and find shells now? Then we can put them in your hair! Then you'll look pretty!"

"Am I not pretty now?"

"No, not really" says Tuk, swinging your interlocked arms back and forth as her wide eyes scanned the sand.

"No?" You wonder almost scandalised, "alright " you nod.

You and Tuk spent a good couple of minutes digging holes on the beach to fish out the shells that had been buried underneath the sand, conch shells, shards of shells, fossils, rocks, bits and pieces of coral, if it was pretty enough for Tuk's standards she's adding it to her pile.

5 minutes later you're following her around with an armful of tiny shells, half the beach full of holes from Tuk and her makeshift shovel that had originally been a branch, with her screaming in delight when she's spotted another one, hurriedly running to you to add it in with the rest.

Lo'ak abruptly places his hands on Neteyam's shoulders, purposefully trying to scare him but Neteyam does not flinch at all. "Yo bro, you got a staring problem or something?" He wonders in English, stepping beside Neteyam to look out into the beach too.

"You done flirting with Tsireya?" Neteyam shot back.

Lo'ak huffed. "Pfft, me? Tsireya?"

"I know your tell, your tail's a dead giveaway"

Lo'ak laughs, punching Neteyam's shoulder, finally making the older boy turn to face him. "Yo! Shut your ass up!"

Neteyam chuckles. "No one else here understands English bro, we're fine!"

Lo'ak shook his head. "I'm not worried about the Metkayina, I'm worried about that devil right there" He says, pointing at the beach.

Neteyam looks at the direction where Lo'ak was pointing. "Who? Tuk?

"She's got spot on hearing, incredible memory," Lo'ak listed. "If I'd have known how much of a tattletail she'd be I'd have abandoned her in the forest when she was a baby"

Neteyam frowns, laughing. "Yes, and when I'd get home I'd find your extra finger in my stew"

Lo'ak grimaces, almost gagging as Neteyam wiggles one of his fingers at him. "Disgusting!"

Neteyam cackles loudly, watching as Lo'ak covered his mouth. "You're overreacting!" He tells him.

"Nah bro, you don't get to fill my mind with those kinda thoughts" Lo'ak says.

Neteyam places a hand on his back. "Face it baby bro, i'm in your head"

Lo'ak pushes it away, chuckling. "Lay off!"

"Will you two ever go a day without fighting eachother?" Kiri asks, giving them a look.

"Not sure" says Lo'ak. "But I wouldn't hold my breath"

Kiri rolled her eyes and Lo'ak turns to Neteyam again. "If Ao'nung isn't coming then we might as well fetch him, if you catch my drift"

Neteyam shakes his head, his braids swishing from side to side. "No, we will do no such thing"

Lo'ak half shrugs, already moving away. "Fine, if you won't then I will"

Neteyam grabs his arm, stopping his brother in his tracks. "Hey, what did dad say?"

He pretends to think. "Not sure, something about you being the next poster boy of the clan?"

Neteyam flicks a finger on Lo'ak's forehead, making the younger boy hiss. "No, you skxawng, he wants us to be on our best behavior, and I don't want to be stopping you from pulling another shitty stunt that'll get you in trouble"

"Fine" Lo'ak says. "I'll go check up on Tuk," He tells Neteyam unconvincingly, scratching the side of his head. "What's up with you and wanting to stay on the beach?"

Neteyam's jaw tightens. "There's nothing that's keeping me here except my promise to dad"

"Uh-huh" Lo'ak nods, eyes flicking to you and Tuk. "Nothing or no one?"

"I don't know what you're talking about"

Lo'ak frowns, pretending he understood. "She's pretty hot"

Neteyam pays him no mind, only scoffing.

"She still avoiding you?" Lo'ak asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes, and I can't seem to find the reason why" Neteyam huffed.

Lo'ak snickers. "Maybe it's cuz you're coming off a little too strong"

"I don't know how else I can get her to talk to me without her insulting every fibre of my being or making up some excuse to leave, I've tried everything" He replies desperately, causing Lo'ak's eyes to go wide, a whistle leaving his mouth. "Damn that bad??? What the hell did you do to her to make you hate her this much?"

Neteyam rakes his face with dread. "I don't know baby bro, but you have no idea what I would do to find out the reason why"

His brother was too down-bad to be saved, Lo'ak knew that much, looking across the beach as he studies you with his little sister. Neteyam looks at his brother, his eyes seemingly trained on you as it flicks up and down, he slaps his brother's arm. "It's rude to stare"

"Yeah, go tell that to them" Says Lo'ak, pointing at a handful of Metkayin boys passing by, giving you stolen glances as they talked amongst themselves, chuckling and hooting.

Neteyam's eyes narrow into slits. "They're irrelevant, we must not let ourselves become like them"

Lo'ak glances at him, clearly unconvinced. "Yeah, okay, so stop looking"

"Fine, I won't" Neteyam replies quickly, watching Lo'ak turn around and walk to the edge of the platform. But he dosen't stop looking, he hated himself for it for it and the way that it was practically eating himself alive.

Wasn't it such a simple task? To turn his head around and look somewhere else? Well it should be, but Neteyam couldn't bring himself to pry his eyes away from you, you, oh Eywa. Your eyes were the colour of the sea, your hair shiny and black, your smile making his stomach twist itself into knots, your laugh making shivers run up his back, the way you dressed alone would make people turn heads, but your attitude was what drew Neteyam in.

You didn't feel the need to keep up this respectful facade, treat him like a guest because it was expected of you as the daughter of the Olo'eyktan, no, you treated him the way you thought of him.

You were rude, you were impolite, and you were blunt, because you didn't like him. You didn't feel inclined to tolerate him just like what was expected of you. He wished he was that brave.

"'Teyam! 'Teyam look what I got!" Tuk squealed as the pair of you walked up the diving platform carrying mountains of shells on your palms. "Y/N told me she and 'Reya could put these in my hair after diving lessons! Isn't that cool?!?"

"Oh Tuk, you didn't force her into braiding your hair did you?"

Tuk looks back at you for moral support. "But she said she would-"

"-Neteyam let her be, if she wants me to braid her hair then I'd be happy to" you had jumped in, siding with Tuk whose ears flicked upwards at her statement. "I hope it isn't too infuriating that I favour your sisters over you"

Neteyam wanted to scoff, but instead stifles it with a tight smile. "Nonsense, my sisters have that effect on everyone" He tells her, looking at Tuk. "Don't you?"

Tuk simply gives him a giggle, a swift nod, and then runs to Kiri, shouting her name over and over again before the older girl groans in acknowledgement. "Here," you say, handing him a conch shell with yellow and brown patterns ruminating on its surface.

"What's this for?" He wonders.

"Your sister practically dug up the entire beach, you deserve at least one" you chuckled.

Oh. He stares at the shell in your hands, then looks back at your face. "If I take this does this mean we'll be friends?" He asks, a sly smile breaking on his face.

"Oh you wish" You reply, smirking as you narrow your eyss at the boy. "Taking this won't change anything"

"Yes it does," He replies as a matter of factly. "this is the longest conversation we've ever had without you leaving or insulting me"

"No it dosen't" You shook your head, insistent. "I'll still hate you after this"

He hums. "I think I can live with that," He smiled. "I did get a gift from the daughter of the Olo'eyktan after all" He laughs when he hears you scoff.

You leave right after he takes it and right before he could say thank you. Walking off to find a basket to store more of Tuk's shells in.

Neteyam looks at the shell in his hands, about 2 and a half inches long, smooth, shiny, perfect, it was perfect. He loves it. He closes his fist, a smile breaking on his face before he could even relent it, a light purple tinting his cheeks as he places the shell in one of his pockets.

[comatosebunny09]

kindle [ pt. 2 ] | leon k.

genre(s): romance, friends to lovers, modern au

warning(s): language, pining, terms of endearment (doll, sweetheart)

part 2 to this. hope you enjoy! thank you so much for reading! ❤️

It’s a date. Or at least, you assume it is. 

Given the way Leon had sauntered up to your desk, all smirking and sheepish, it was only fair to surmise he had asked you out on one. 

Took him long enough.

He came to you through the dull murmur of the office. When the sun crept towards the horizon, bathing your cubicle in an ethereal orange. You were elbow deep in SIR reports, gnawing on the cap of your pen. Irritation rested between your brows. If you glared any harder, the information sprawled before you would surely combust.

Paperwork was the bane of your existence. Dodging chainsaws, claws, and teeth seemed more appealing. You’d gladly take the cool steel of a beretta biting into your palm over that of a ballpoint. 

Thick, work-worn fingers splayed on your desk, drawing your attention northward. You couldn’t help the slight quirk of your lips. Couldn’t parry that pleasant, fluttery feeling in your gut at the sight of him—your partner, that is. 

Leon’s hair was ruffled with errant strands sticking this way and that. Irises glimmered like sea glass, dancing over your features with boyish fascination. His smile was dimpled, and crow’s feet hung to the corners of his eyes. Dark stubble dappled his chin. His tie was loosened around his neck, while his dress shirt lay slightly untucked and wrinkled. It seemed the day had been as kind to him as it was to you.   

You found yourself resting your cheek in your palm as warmth flooded your innards. Fell under his spell, submerged beneath its shadowy depths, unable to resurface. Not that you wanted to. He held your heart in a vice. You cautioned a “Sup?” wincing at how your voice crackled. How you sounded prepubescent, and you cleared your throat to ward off your nerves.

Leon’s replying chuckle was like velveteen. You felt it in your stomach. Felt it play up your spine like a xylophone. You always found his voice endearing, the low gravel of it sticky and dulcet to your ears. 

As if magnetically drawn to them, you watched his lips, soft and rose-petal red, form around words. Your own tingled as you recalled kissing that very mouth a few nights ago. Committed their texture to memory, quelling the urge to touch your lips. Leon’s Adam’s apple bobbed and the tendons in his neck flexed. You instinctively swallowed, readjusting yourself in your chair.

“Not much,” Leon said, shifting his weight onto one foot. Still propped up on your desk in an easy slouch, swaddling you in the aroma of gun oil and teakwood. Of course, his sleeves were cuffed, baring his sinewy forearms. How badly you wanted to touch them. Drag your fingertips down the forked veins beneath, conjuring the prettiest sounds from his throat. “Just checkin’ on my favorite partner.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’m your only partner, dickhead.”

“I dunno,” he taunted, standing tall with folded arms. From this angle, it was easy to make out the power of his body. His clothes did little to disguise it. Your throat grew dry, and your voice caught in the bowels of your chest. “Marie over in HR is gunnin’ for your spot.” 

It always surprised you how quickly you could move. How swiftly you could retrieve your stapler and chuck it at him. Leon snorted as he ducked, the damned thing striking a far-off window. He threw his hands up in mock surrender, a youthful crinkle to his eye. 

“Relax, doll. I’m just messin’.” 

You countered with a hmph, clearly over his shit.  

Leon replaced his palms on your desk once the dust settled. Broke the heavy silence by asking, “How’s the admin stuff comin’?” Feigning interest in the documents littering your cubicle, he retrieved a packet, skimming through it with disinterest. Like he wasn’t using you to procrastinate, a pile of pristine, white paper leering at you through his office window. 

With a weighted sigh, you answered, “It’s coming.” A quiet snicker garnered another eye-roll. “Oh, grow the hell up, Kennedy.” 

“Never. You like me like this.”

You cut your eyes at him mid-scribble. Sat your pen down with a definitive clack. These childish games you played made you feel giddy. Like two grade-schoolers in the sandbox, clearly taken by each other. Alright. You’d bite. 

“Says who?” 

It was as if you initiated a challenge. As if you’d stuck out your tongue and said make me. Leon took the bait, inching towards you, huffing out a chuckle. He crept over your desk with the finesse of a jaguar quietly stalking through the bush. Poured himself into your personal bubble, the heat of his body rolling off him in waves, staining your neck, a shiver sifting through your bones. His breath was hot against the shell of your ear. Dizzying as he deliberately exhaled against your skin.

His timbre was dark with mischief as he finally crooned, “Says that dumb little look on your face, sweetheart.”

You’d never punched him harder. 

Leon drew back, gulping down air between a peal of laughter. It became customary for him to torment you like that. To play on the attraction swimming between you, dismantling your resolve and leaking through the fissures of your heart. When the moment became too serious, he often sprinkled in a quip or two to keep you at arm’s length. It was frustrating. How he could act so cool despite the noticeable change in your relationship. 

“What do you even want, Kennedy? I’ve got shit to do,” you sighed, exasperation wading in your tone. Your forehead collided against the cherrywood with a soft thunk. A migraine bloomed on the horizon. Leon’s teasing only served to exacerbate it.

His tone was muffled. Hesitant, rivaled by the idle chatter of your coworkers. “Well, if you must know, I … wanted to see if you had dinner plans?” 

Magma filled your belly. Your eyes shot to him, a sheet of paper comically glued to your forehead. You were acutely aware of yourself, sitting up straighter, smoothing out the wrinkles of your attire, fretting over your hair. “Dinner? Uh, m-me? N-no. Well—”

“Cool. Now you do have plans. Seven sound good?” 

Your expression was awestruck. Well, now, this was certainly a new development. You blinked away your confusion, nodding dumbly. Caught a glimpse of a smirk canting Leon’s lips before he stepped out. Before he tapped your desk with finality, maneuvering out of your office space. 

“Wait! Wait, is … is this a date?” you called to his retreating back.

“Take it however you want,” Leon supplied, a hand raised in farewell. 

You sank into your chair once he disappeared within the maze of cubicle walls. Left at the mercy of your thundering heart and flaring nerves. The goofiest of grins lay claim to your countenance. You felt reinvigorated, taking up your pen. Scrawled away like an enamored fool, scanning through the catalog of your mind for what you would wear.             

<< part 1

[writingpastmybedtime]

Mine

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Bucky and Reader have to pretend to be husband and wife on a mission, even though they do not get along at all. Your classic enemies-to-lovers trope.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: none, although Bucky is hot as always.

A/N: Let me know, if you want a pt 2 to this ;)

You should have known better, really. Wearing a short black, curve-hugging, dress wasn’t going to go unnoticed by the Super Soldier whose gaze you wished to avoid.

Bucky and you had been tedious to each other for most of the time spent at the compound. It was common knowledge for the team that you two weren’t supposed to be on the same mission together. Unless they wished to witness your back-to-back nagging. Which, they did not.

That changed, however, when Natasha fell sick and you had to replace her on a mission pretending to be the wife of a Russian mobster, Ivan Sarkovich aka James Buchanan Barnes undercover. 

Needless to say, you did not go on this mission without letting out a fight. Tony shut you up quite quickly, reminding you of the innocent lives that would be harmed if you did not fall through with this mission. There was no one else to take Natasha’s place, but you. You sighed, before begrudgingly agreeing.  

So here you were, at a lavish Balkan hotel somewhere in Eastern Europe with the most exhausting and tiresome being to ever exist - Bucky Barnes. The bane of your existence. The man, with the most gorgeous blue eyes, the body of a Greek God on steroids, and hands you wish would do the dirtiest things to you. 

No one knew you had these kinds of thoughts and feelings towards the ex-Winter Soldier, however, it wasn't hard to hide them whenever he acted like a total ass towards you. You had put up a façade to everyone, not letting out your true feelings. Not when he couldn’t even be in the same room as you without snickering a rude remark.

Had he ever not acted indifferent towards you, perhaps you would not be in this predicament you were in right now.

Fortunately enough, Bucky had already gone downstairs to play poker with the people who you were investigating. 

Ruslan Nikolaevich was a Russian man, behind a drug cartel that had been shipping new kinds of supplements in New York, mainly appealing to teens and young adults. They sold it under the premise of protein, however, it was nothing similar of the sort, except for the look of it. 

You and Bucky had to gain information about the next possible drop-off - the location, the recipient, and the lot. You were supposed to join your dear husband downstairs in five minutes, playing the ever-clingy happy, and satisfied wife.

Smoothing down your dress and taking a last-minute look in the mirror, you deemed yourself good to go. Perhaps your dress was a bit much, but without a second thought, you left the safety of your hotel room. 

Walking towards the men sitting at the poker table, you held your chin high and only looked at Bucky. He was wearing an all-black suit, the one that you thought fit him the best. The one that you wished he would wear when he’d do the most dirty things to you. 

Bucky looked up from the table, as if hearing your thoughts, and his eyes fell on yours. A smirk graced his lips as you neared and he patted his lap, an indication for you to take a seat. 

It was totally normal and mostly expected of the Russian mobsters to have their wives and eye candies sitting on their lap - a way to show off. So, as expected of you, you took a seat. Right on Bucky’s deliciously firm thighs. 

“I thought you wouldn’t come, with how long you took,” Bucky nuzzled into your neck, making a shiver go down your spine. You smirked, placing a seductive hand on his jaw, playing with the slight stubble there. 

“What kind of a wife would I be, if I did not show up to support my perfect husband?” You raised an eyebrow and Bucky chuckled darkly, before placing his lips on your temple and focusing his gaze back on the game. 

“I wish my Maria would still look at me the same way your девушка looks at you,” a man with a thick Russian accent said, looking over at you with a longing gaze that made Bucky place his vibranium arm over your waist as if to pull you closer to him and protect against the Russians that eyed you in a way that made his blood boil. 

Bucky chuckled, to not let on, that he was disturbed by Maksim’s looks. 

“If you’re willing, you could also share your сладостью with the others,” Maksim was eyeing you up and down, and you were now second-guessing your dress choice.

“Gentlemen,” Bucky chuckled darkly, before throwing his cards on the table. “I’m afraid this sweet thing is not for share, for I have intended her all for myself tonight.” 

The men at the table groaned but still looked at you with lust-filled eyes, a certain jealousy towards Bucky Barnes, no, Ivan Sarkovich. 

“I think it’s time we took our leave, my девушка seems to be getting tired of our manly chit-chat and boyish games.” With a nudge to your waist, you feigned a believable yawn and clung to Bucky, playing the ever-attaching wife. Bucky wished good night to the gentlemen at the table, before guiding you towards an elevator.

When the elevator doors closed and you could finally take a breath, letting go of the fake act, Bucky stepped in front of you with a hard look. 

“Are you out of your mind to wear a dress like this in front of them?” 

You looked down at your dress, picking invisible lint off of it. 

“Do you have any idea, what kind of a position you put me in? The things they whispered,” he took a deep breath, closing his eyes, as if to calm himself. You did not understand the Russian language the way he did. Which also meant that you had no idea what kind of vulgar things they had said about you. 

You saw his hands shake on the railing on the wall, that he’d gripped, his knuckles turning white on his right hand with how hard he was gripping it. 

“Fuck, doll-” he looked at you then, his baby blue eyes a shade darker, before he suddenly gripped your jaw and made you look up at him. “You only belong to-” He was cut off by the elevator doors opening and he nonchalantly let go of you, walking off to your shared hotel suit.

You followed him, still ashamed and, confusingly enough, a little bit turned on by his demeanor. He’d never acted this way before. And what was he almost about to say?

As you shut the door of the suit, you immediately felt his breath on your neck. A gentle, but rough hand moved strands of your hair off your shoulder, before chuckling deeply. 

Bucky placed his forehead in the crook of your neck, before letting out a deep breath. His hands then found their way to your waist, pulling you closer to himself. 

“Y/N, do you have any idea, what you do to me?” You felt his lips move on your skin, which made you shudder and the most obscene thoughts filled your head. He whispered your name again.

“If I had known any better, I’d think you got jealous when poor old Maksim made that suggestive comment,” you finally whispered, your forehead resting on the door. Bucky pressed himself closer to you, leaving you sandwiched between him and the brown wooden suite.

“Only I can make comments like that about you. No one else.” He kissed the side of your neck, your head automatically falling on his shoulder. It was as if you had no control over your body; you only moved on his accord.

“You’re mine.”

[eachuisge-cc]

Honestly I'm astounded that nobody has taken that name yet.

Do you dislike the look of vanilla Skyrim horses? Are you tired of riding some kind of Clydesdale/Belgian/Cob thing around fantasy Scandinavia for no clear reason? Do you want your beloved and loyal horse to stand out from the crowd as much as you do? Well great news, this mod covers all of those things.

Basically I made some significant edits to the horse model including a fuller, longer mane and tail, redone feathering, somewhat more realistic conformation, and entirely redone ears because at a certain point it was just easier to make new ones. None of the changes affect how the horse fits the vanilla rig so it still bends and moves without distorting weirdly. The textures are entirely painted from scratch and have new normals to go with them that are meant to give the horses a somewhat softer, more natural look that still fits with Skyrim's general vibe. I used references of primarily North Swedish and Dole horses, but also borrowed from the wider range of colors and patterns in Icelandics because I couldn't give up the pintos.

Current Features:

Asymmetrical coats/markings, because I fully redid the UV while I was messing with the mesh (mostly because mirrored pinto horses in video games are the bane of my existence)

Distinct meshes for mares and stallions, the mare model is closer to the vanilla horse's conformation, while the stallion model has a slightly bulkier build and thicker neck, and a an unobtrusive low poly dong.

Five generic solid-coated textures that appear on most NPC horses in the world.

Unique texture for each purchasable player horse

Unique texture and model for Frost (he's now a mealy chestnut as his papers claim)

Unique Shadowmere

Unique Karinda (this mod does NOT add Karinda into the game, but her texture should show up if you have CRF or another mod that does add her, as long as it doesn't alter her texture or base model)

Unique Hearthfire stable horses (purchasable through the steward)

Unique unsaddled stable horse in Markarth because uh, I just felt like it

Unique coats for a growing number of modded follower horses (see the mod page for the list)

Future plans: see the mod page

Compatibility:

This mod should be compatible with just about everything, as long as it doesn't also change the colors or models of the horses. It should also work with any version of Skyrim SE/AE. It is NOT compatible with Immersive Horses, because IH uses its own horse models and textures.

I will not personally be making patches for other mods because there's no way I could possibly keep up with that and I'd rather spend the time and energy on the mod itself, however I encourage anyone else who wants to to make whatever patches are needed. Please message me if you do so I can link them here for people to find.

Huge thanks to SassiestAssassin, who has been an incredible help in navigating the learning curve of editing nifs (and is continuing to be a huge help with solving my inability to make patches), and also has a lot of fantastic mods you should check out.

Download:

Nexus Mods

[mxltifxnd0m]

falling foolishly ღ s. winchester

summary: your best friend jess makes you go to a get-together to meet one of her classmates, the thing is, she mentioned two and you don't know which one she meant

pairings: stanford! sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem! reader, platonic! jessica moore x reader, platonic! sam winchester x platonic! jessica moore

requested: yes/no: by @s4wdvator thank you for requesting lovey!!

word count: 4.4K

warnings: modern/no hunting AU, no use of 'y/n', a shit ton of fluff, you and jess being little shits to each other, mentions of sex, some cursing, title is a lyric from must be love by laufey, the prequel to my smau's: must be love and too tongue tied!

a/n: my first request for sammy and its the prequel to my smau's! it was very fun to write and i hope you guys enjoy! and I love sam and jess <33

please reblog and comment! i love to hear your thoughts and it helps out a lot <3

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

The cool, crisp January air hit your cheeks as you exited the lecture hall and wrapped your red wooly scarf around your neck. California didn't see any snow, but you were surprised that the state was capable of dropping below 60 degrees during the winter.

A slight breeze swept through the campus as the dead leaves from autumn skittered and drifted across the grass and pavement. The leaves littered the ground as you walked through the nearly barren quad of the Stanford campus and headed back to your dorm.

You were grateful that you only had two classes today, the one you just took, and you had a four-hour gap before your last one. You had your headphones on as you made your trek back to your dorm, where your roommate was no doubt still there or getting ready for her classes. You almost let out a sigh of relief when you entered the heated lobby of your dorm and quickly made your way to the third floor.

As you entered your room, you set your bag at the edge of your bed while a familiar head of long, curly blonde hair sat at her vanity as she got ready for class. You made eye contact with her blue eyes through her mirror, and you saw her mouth widen into a smile.

"Hey! how was class?" Jessica asked you as she applied a coat of mascara to her lashes.

"It was fine." You said with a roll of your eyes while taking off your scarf and cardigan, leaving you in a thin black long-sleeve and jeans.

A chuckle left Jess's lips. "You're regretting taking this 8 am aren't you?"

A mournful groan left your lips as you kicked off your shoes. "I thought I would be able to, but it's going to be the bane of my existence for the rest of this semester." You walked to your bed and face-planted into it

"Is it too late to drop it?" You heard her ask as her chair moved against the carpeted floor.

"It might be," Your pillow muffled your voice. You moved your head so you could breathe. "But the stupid class is only available this semester and not at any other time."

Your eyes followed Jessica as she shrugged on her black North Face puffer and as she walked up to your bed.

"You have my sympathy and pity." Her eyes were sparkling with mirth as she patted you on your head.

You scowled at her and swatted her hand away from your head. Jess managed to rip her hand away from your head before you could hit her as she laughed at your grumpy mood.

"Just go to class." You grumbled as you sat up and grabbed your laptop out of your bag to start on some work.

Jessica laughed before grabbing her backpack. "See ya later, bitch!" She sent you an air kiss.

"Whatever, bye whore," You sent her a two-finger salute while reading the article your teacher assigned her as Jess left your shared room.

"Hear me out-"

"No good sentence starts off with 'hear me out', Jess." You cut her off after taking a sip of your water.

The two of you sat in the dining hall, eating dinner together as people bustled and chattered around you, absorbed in their own conversations and worlds.

Jess whined your name. "Can't you hear me out for just a minute?"

"The last time I did, you got black-out drunk the day before winter break started and I had to drag you back to the dorm."

"I wasn't that bad."

"You almost threw up on me and clung on to me all night." You deadpanned at her before taking a bite of the pasta you had chosen for dinner.

"What can I say, you're a really good cuddler." Jess winked at you, but all you gave her was a straight face.

She rolled her eyes at you. "Can you blame me? We had just finished finals!"

"Righttt." You drawled out.

"Whatever, just hear me out for just a second and I swear it'll be worth your time."

You pressed your lips together. "Fine, you get a minute."

"I was invited to a small get-together and I want you to come with me as my plus one."

"Is this an actual small get-together or a ploy to get me to another party?" You narrowed your eyes at Jess.

She shook her head. "I swear." Jessica made it a point to cross her heart. "The friend I made in my Philosophy class invited me and two other classmates to their small housewarming in the apartment they just got."

"Are you sure you're able to invite someone else with you?"

Jess nodded. "Yeah, I asked them and they said it was alright."

You sighed. "Fine. I'll come."

Jessica's dazzling grin appeared on her face, and you could see her visibly getting excited. "Yes! I've been dying for you to meet my class mate anyways."

"Which one?" You raised an eyebrow.

Her grin turned into a sly smirk. "You'll see on Friday."

You squinted suspiciously at her. "I don't like that look on your face."

"What look?" She said with innocent eyes and a scheming smile still on her face as she took a bite of her food.

"I'm onto you, Moore." You pointed your plastic fork at her as menacingly as you could, but all she did was chuckle.

"I'd rather you be on top of me instead." Jess cooed as she fluttered her eyelashes at you.

The two of you had flirty banter since a month of living together. You had met Jessica at freshman orientation, and you guys had hit it off immediately, becoming fast friends and stuck by each other like glue until the day ended. You guys traded socials before you guys left. So when the move-in day came around, to both of your surprises, you guys were each other's roommates.

Since then, you guys have been best friends. It felt like you guys have been friends since you were kids. But you've only known each other for about four months, and it's only your second semester of your freshman year. Nevertheless, you have a feeling that she's going to be by your side until both of you kick the bucket.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile grew on your face. "I'd always knew you'd be the bottom out of the two of us." You teased.

Jess scoffed. "As if."

"That wasn't a no, Jess." You said in a sing-song voice as you got up to put away your now empty tray.

"Wait, no! It was!" Jessica said as she got up to follow you, your laugh ringing throughout the already loud dining hall.

You were typing away at your laptop when something was flung at you, and your vision was obscured by a piece of clothing.

"You're wearing that." You heard Jess say before you pulled it off of your face, your hair askew.

You glared at her back as she dug around the small dresser on her side of the room before looking at the offending article of clothing she unceremoniously threw at you. It was a tight, black, long-sleeved dress that had a plunging neckline. It had a skirt that flared out, and it looked like it had ended around your mid-thigh.

"Jess, are you crazy? I'm not wearing a dress in the middle of winter!" You hissed as you were getting ready to throw it back at her.

She threw something else in your direction wordlessly, and it landed on your bed. You leaned forward to grab it and saw it was one of her fleece-lined tights that she would wear if she wanted to wear a skirt in the cold.

You opened your mouth to protest before she whirled around and held a finger up. "Nuh-uh, no complaining. I let you wear whatever you wanted when we went to those parties last semester."

"Are you insulting my fashion sense?"

"Of course." Jess flashed a sarcastic grin at you.

You scowled at her in response before closing your laptop with a little more force than you needed to. You huffed before getting off your bed and began to change out of the t-shirt and leggings you wore for the day since you had no class on Fridays.

"Are you sure you're still the top in the relationship?" Jessica quipped and dodged the stuffed animal that you chucked at her from your bed with a chuckle.

After you changed into the dress and tights, you did your makeup as you usually would but applied a raspberry-tinted lip stain and some black eyeliner instead of the usual brown you did on a day-to-day basis.

You let down your hair from the hairstyle you had on all day and curled it lightly. Once you were with your hair and makeup, you put on your everyday rings, necklace, and a few spritzes of perfume and slid on your cherry red platform boots you had gotten from your sister for Christmas.

As you were bent over and zipping up your left boot, you heard a wolf whistle come from Jess. You looked up to see that Jess was wearing the opposite color as you.

Jess's dress was a frilly long-sleeve dress that ended at her mid-thigh with nude tights underneath; you assumed that they were fleeced-lined as well. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, her makeup made her look angel with flushed cheeks and wide eyes, and she was wearing black Mary Janes. If you stood side by side, you'd look like the living manifestation of yin and yang.

"Damn, it's not fair you look better than me in that dress." Jess all but pouted at you.

"I'd argue but I have a feeling you don't want us to be late."

Jess looked at her phone, and her eyes widened. "Yep, we should go now if we don't want to be late for the Uber since its like five minutes away."

You nodded and grabbed the red leather jacket you thrifted a while ago, along with your scarf, and followed Jess out the door as she grabbed her black leather jacket. The Uber to the apartment was brief, but it was filled with awkward small talk between the driver and the two of you.

As you walk into the apartment complex and ride the elevator to the fourth floor, where Jess's friend's apartment is, you feel a little nervous. You had yet to meet these people before, and you were not the most socially adjusted person.

Jessica was the extrovert out of the two of you and did most of the talking while you let her. You preferred listening anyway and chiming in when it was appropriate. You would only let loose around people you knew and were comfortable with.

Before you knew it, you had followed Jess to the apartment door. Her knock on the door broke you out of your slight daze, your body on autopilot before you snapped out of it. You heard the door unlock and swung open.

A girl with long, straight red hair, wearing glasses, and a broad smile answered the door. "Jess! I'm glad you could make it!" She greeted her with a hug before her blue eyes landed on you just behind Jess. She said your name with the same amount of enthusiasm as she greeted Jess.

You hid your confusion behind a smile as you gave her a small wave in greeting before she ushered the two of you inside her apartment.

"I've heard so much about you from Jess! I'm Mel." Mel introduced herself as she led you guys into the living room. You had noticed that there were about six or seven people in the living room, chatting and snacking on the food and drinks that were laid out.

The apartment was spacious and had an open floor plan with the kitchen to your left, the living room in front of you, and to your right, stairs that led to a loft area. You noticed some sliding doors that must have led out to a balcony since you had seen some as you looked up at the apartment complex.

Someone squealed from the kitchen, and out came a girl with tanned skin and brown bouncy curls barrel into Jess, giving her a massive hug.

"Hey, Dinah!" You could hear Jess greet who you now know is Dinah as she pulls away from the hug. "Come meet my best friend and roommate." Jess said before gesturing to you.

You saw Dinah's warm brown eyes land on you, and she smiled wide. You all got properly acquainted before you guys joined everyone else in the living room, being introduced to some of Mel's friends and Dinah's friends. You felt comfortable after being introduced and listening to the conversations that were being had. You even chimed in a couple of times, leading the conversation one time.

At one point, you saw Jess lean over to Mel, who was sitting on her other side. "Where's Sam? I thought he said he'd come?" You heard her ask Mel.

Mel nodded. "He said he was going to be a little late."

Jess hummed in response. "Okay, but-" Jess was cut off by a loud knock on the door.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear. That must be Sam." Mel said before getting up from her seat and answering the door.

Mel came back with a guy who you assumed was Sam, and your breath hitched as you took in the sight of Sam. He was tall with brown hair and bangs you wanted to brush from his forehead. You couldn't tell what his eye color was from where you were sitting. But he had a cute nose that you traced with your eyes. He was dressed in layers from what you could tell was a dark undershirt peeking out from underneath the navy blue polo, which was covered by a worn, unzipped brown Carhartt jacket, with his hands shoved in the pockets.

Mel introduced him to the group, and everyone said variations of greetings. You saw Sam's eyes scan the group before they met yours, and you could see that his eyes were hazel, and you could tell that they shifted color depending on the lighting. You gave him a small smile, one he returned before his eyes moved to the person next to you.

Jess saw this small interaction and smirked to herself. She stood up and greeted Sam. At this point, everyone had gone back to their conversations, and you were brought into one with Dinah and another guy named Brady. But you were only half listening to them, your mind still stuck on the tall guy with hazel eyes that only stood mere feet away from you.

As the night went on, you found yourself wanting to talk to Sam but couldn't. You always seemed to psych yourself out of talking to him. As people started to get a little tipsy, you managed to slip out of the living room unnoticed and out to the balcony. Which now, you regretted instantly.

The cold night seeped into your skin as you rested your elbows on the metal railing. It was bearable, but you would prefer to wear something warmer than the dress you were wearing in this kind of weather. You were debating on going back inside to grab your jacket.

"Aren't you cold?" A voice startled you out of your thoughts, and you whipped around to find Sam standing at the closed balcony doors.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He apologized with a sheepish smile, which you thought was cute. Sam must have realized that he had scared you.

You shook your head. "You're fine, I was just lost in thought and didn't hear you come out here." You reassured him with a slight smile.

Sam seemed to relax at your words and smiled back at you. "I'm Sam." He introduced himself as he stuck out a hand for you to shake.

"I knew that." You said through a small chuckle as you shook his warm hand, his hand almost dwarfing yours as you did. "Mel introduced you when came in."

There were fairy lights strung on the metal railing and around the balcony, lighting the area with a warm and inviting atmosphere. You could see a blush grow on Sam's cheeks as he realized that she did, in fact, introduce him to the entire room.

"Right, I forgot about that." Sam let out a nervous laugh.

You quickly introduced yourself to Sam, and he said your name like he was testing how it rolled off of his tongue. The way he said your name sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you smiled at him.

"How do you know Mel?" He asked with a gentle smile on his face.

"I don't. Jess asked me to come with her to meet some of her classmates."

"Oh! That's right I remember Jess talk about her best friend a lot before class."

You raised your eyebrow at that factoid. You didn't realize that Jess talked about you that much, which sent warmth to your chest. "Didn't realize that Jess talked about me that much." You said with a nervous chuckle.

Sam's smile broadens as he nods. "She does."

"Well, what's your story, Sam? What brings you to Stanford?" You ask him.

Before you know it, the both of you were launched into a conversation that flowed like a river in a dense forest. You found out Sam was in pre-law; he is from Lawrence, Kansas, with an older brother named Dean, and his brother is a firefighter back home. In turn, you told him about the major you were in, your family, and where you grew up.

You guys were so deep into your conversation that you didn't feel the cold anymore until a shiver racked your body when the breeze suddenly picked up. Sam noticed, and his face twisted with concern.

"Crap, I didn't even realize it was that cold out here. Here." Before you could protest, he shrugged off his brown jacket and stepped closer to you to drape it over your shoulders, filling your nose with a faint woody and fresh linen scent.

You were stunned by his actions momentarily before his stepping away snapped you to the present, and you put your arms through the sleeves. The jacket engulfed you; it was the same length as your dress, and you had to scrunch up the sleeves since they were so long.

Sam had a fond smile on his face as you focused on pulling up his sleeves before he looked away and exhaled a breath. He realized you could see his breath, so he looked back at you. His breath caught as he saw the girl that Sam thought was pretty when he first walked into the apartment, swarming in his jacket before he shook his head to get rid of the thoughts that were forming in his mind.

"We should probably head back inside." He suggested as he shoved his hands into his jeans, no longer being warmed by his jacket.

You agreed with his words, and Sam opened the sliding door and gestured for you to go inside first. You shot him a grateful smile before stepping into the warm apartment.

You took a few steps forward until you were propelled backward as you got a faceful of blonde hair in your face and arms wrapping around your shoulders. You would have toppled over if it wasn't for Sam's tall form and hands landing on your waist, underneath his jacket, and steadying you from behind.

You couldn't focus on anything besides his warm hands seeping through the fabric but were brought back to Jess's tipsy ramblings.

"You're b-back! I was wondering where you went." Jess's words were slurred slightly as she booped you on the nose.

Sam eventually let go of you as you steadied yourself with Jess in your arms.

"Yeah, I am Jess," You chuckled lightly at the blissful smile that was on Jessica's face. "I was out on the balcony with Sam."

Her blue eyes brightened at the mention of Sam, and she finally seemed to notice that he was behind you. "Sammy!" Jess called out cheerfully.

You heard Sam chuckle as he moved to the side so you could see him. "Hi Jess," Sam said with a smile.

How in the hell are you now noticing that he has dimples. Christ, this dude was getting more and more cuter by the second.

"He was the classmate I wanted to introduce you to. Sam is totally your type, you know?" She whispered to you a little too loud, and Sam could still hear her.

"Like he's smart, tall, handsome, and-" You cut off Jess by slapping your hand over her mouth. She continued to speak, her words muffled as you felt your cheeks flush with heat as you dared to look at Sam.

You could tell that Sam was thoroughly amused by Jess's drunken ramblings and your now flustered state.

"She's a clingy and loud drunk if you couldn't tell by now." You said with a tight smile on your face as you thought of the many ways that you could murder Jess.

The smirk on Sam's face was making your heart beat faster. "Yeah, I think I got the picture now. I've never seen her like this."

"Yeah, well, I've seen her like this many times." You finally pulled your hand away from her mouth when you felt her stop talking and nuzzled her face into the crook of your neck.

You sighed and patted her back. "Come on, Jessy. Let's go sit down and get some water in you."

Jessica grumbled into your neck, and you could barely make out the words, but it sounded like she wanted to go home. You looked at Sam with an exasperated expression on your face, making him laugh. You couldn't hold back the smile on your face at the sound of his bright laugh.

"Okay, but let's drink some water, say bye to everyone, and then we can go, okay?" You said gently to Jess as you petted the top of her head, and all she did was nod into your neck before adjusting herself so she could be tucked into your side.

"I'll come with you," Sam said. "Looks like you have your hands full and need help." He gestured to the 5'10 blonde nineteen-year-old hanging off of you.

With some thought, you eventually accepted Sam's help. With his help, Jess drank a bottle of water and ate some food that was still out. You said bye to everyone in the apartment, grabbed your jackets, and Sam called an Uber for the three of you to take it back to the dorm since he lived in the building across from yours.

Sam graciously took the front seat while you and Jess sat in the back. She dozed on your shoulder, and before you knew it, the three of you were back on campus with Jess's shoulder slung over your shoulder as you led Sam to your room. You were okay with just walking back to the dorms by yourself with Jess, but Sam insisted that he'd walk you guys to your room.

If this was anyone else, you would have been creeped out, but you knew Sam had nothing but good intentions behind those eyes that reminded you of a puppy's. So he walked with you and Jess all the way until you made it to the room. At this point, Jess had sobered up slightly but trudged into the room as you unlocked it. You stood in the doorway as Sam lingered in the hall.

"Thanks for helping, you made things easier than it had ever been before."

Sam shook his head. "No problem. Does she get that way a lot?"

"No. Sometimes it's me clinging to her, but more often than not it's Jess." You said with a small chuckle. Sam smiled at the sound of your laugh and looked down at his feet.

Sam looked a little nervous as he looked back at you. "I'm glad we met. I really liked talking to you tonight."

"So did I." You sent him a kind smile.

"Could I get your number?"

Your smile widened as you nodded. The two of you traded phones as you set up new contacts with one another. Once you were done, you guys gave each other's respective phones back, smiles lingering on your faces. You looked down at your boots and remembered that you were still wearing his jacket.

"Oh! here's your jacket." You took it off, even if you didn't want to, and gave it back to Sam.

Sam took it and folded it over his arm as if it were a suit jacket. You both stared at each other for a moment before you spoke up.

"Well, thanks for the help and walking us back, Sam. You've been a real gentleman."

He playfully bowed, bending slightly at the waist as he placed his free hand on his chest, looking at you cheekily. "The pleasure has been mine," Sam said before straightening to his full height.

A giggle escaped your lips. "Cheeky." You said before you bit your bottom lip. You didn't want to second guess yourself, and even in your platform boots, you had to lean up and plant a kiss on Sam's cheek.

"Goodnight, Sam." You said with a shy smile as you drew back from him, a dopey smile on his face as his dimples appeared on his face.

"Yeah," He said breathily before shaking his head slightly and clearing his throat. "Goodnight," Sam said your name before the two of you shared a smile. You stepped back from the doorway and closed the door. You locked the door and turned around to find Jess sitting on her bed with tired eyes but a shit-eating grin on her face.

"You saw the entire thing didn't you?"

"Mhm. Never knew you had the balls to kiss him on the cheek. Maybe you are the top."

Jess wasn't fast enough to dodge the massive stuffed animal you kept on the edge of your bed, and the two of you dissolved into laughter as it hit her face.