#the players are bad too because I just said a word about this and i was already called the n word by some white people
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punkrockmlchael · 3 days ago
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Bandmates
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Masterlist
Gareth Emerson x Fem Bandmate!Reader
Modern AU; Enemies to Lovers (Both Gareth and Reader are in their early 20s)
Warnings: 18+ mdni, Verbally Fighting, Mature Language (Swearing), Sexual Tension, Cocky/Arrogant Gareth (He still asks for consent though which is key! But he's also lowkey a dick.. sigh), Use of Pet Names (princess, angel, baby girl), Smut: Oral (Fem + Male Receiving - Gareth is a head pusher!), Fingering, Cum Eating, Unprotected Sex, PinV, Creampie, afab reader
Synopsis: You're the bass player in the infamous music group, Corroded Coffin. You get along extremely well with Eddie and Jeff, the two guitarists. But, when it comes to the drummer, Gareth, you literally can't win. Everything you do is just wrong and nothing you do will ever be right in his eyes. He constantly mocks you and reminds you that you "suck" at what you do and you've finally had enough, making tonight the night you confront him about it.
This is something I originally wrote and didn’t like so I’m revamping it; sorry not sorry! I think it's better and smuttier than before hehe thank you @keeryhours for proof reading some of this because I felt like I just couldn't anymore.
Word Count: 5.5k
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"Great show, guys!" Eddie exclaimed as the elevator door of the hotel shut, enclosing you and the three boys inside the small space.
"Yeah, pretty kick ass. Anyone down for drinks?" Jeff asked, pressing the button for the bar.
"Hell yeah," Eddie replied. He then turned his attention towards you, calling your name. "What about you?" 
You shook your head slightly and leaned against the wall of the elevator. "No, I'm probably going to shower and head to bed, I think. But, thanks though; remember to be smart, stay safe and have fun guys." You giggled slightly. 
"Lame. Gareth, you?" Eddie asked, directing his attention to the drummer of the band. Gareth shook his head as well. 
"Nah, not right now. I'll probably catch up with you guys later, though." Gareth replied. Jeff and Eddie smiled and nodded at you and Gareth as the elevator doors opened. The pair stepped out of the elevator and ran straight for the bar to likely drink for the remainder of the night. 
After Eddie and Jeff were out of sight, you took a half step forward and hit the number 4 button on the wall, watching the doors slowly shut in front of you. You crossed your arms over your chest and put all your weight on your right foot, standing as far away from Gareth as humanly possible in the tiny elevator. "Why am I always stuck with you?" You huffed, avoiding eye contact with him. 
"Believe me, I was wondering the same thing." He responded. He mocked your stance, leaning on his left foot away from you. "But hey, at least you were in tune tonight. That's a plus." You shot him a glare in reply. 
"Oh yeah, too bad you were off beat, though," you retorted back, smirking slightly.
"You fucking wish, princess. You know I'm always on beat, perfectly might I add."
"Someone's fucking cocky. And wrong. You're never on beat." He shook his head at your response, clenching his fists at his sides from anger. 
"At least I can actually play an instrument. You can't play the bass to save your fucking life, you know that? I don't know why Eddie ever suggested letting you join the band, all you've done is hold us back this whole time." He spit out.
"You're right," you said softly, looking at him. "All I do is hold you guys back. Too bad I can't hold back your mistakes. And, at least my solo was on time tonight, unlike yours." You added, watching the elevator door open. You stepped out and walked to your room, Gareth hot on your tracks. 
"My solo tonight was perfect!" He yelled, following after you.
You stopped in front of your hotel room and turned to him. "Shut the actual fuck up, Gareth; it’s late. People on this floor are trying to sleep, they don't want to listen to you trying to prove yourself to a woman you don't even like." You scoffed, fishing your room key out of your pants pocket. You placed the card to the door, opening it slightly. 
"You started it." He responded, watching you step into the room. You tried to shut the door behind you but he stopped you, shoving his foot in the door. You groaned in annoyance and looked up at him. 
"I didn't start shit." You growled. "You always fucking start shit like this and continue to blame me, and frankly, I'm done with it. You're literally a fucking asshole; you don't care about anyone but yourself and it shows. Now, I swear to god, move your foot or I will break it so you can't play the fucking drums anymore." You added, trying to shut the door on him again. 
"I don't always start shit." He said, pushing the door open before he squeezed his way inside of your hotel room. "And, I don't only care about myself." The door shut behind him as he stood there in your room. 
"Yes you fucking do! You're literally an ass to me, and I'm so sick of it. What did I ever fucking do to you?" You shouted, not caring about how loud you were now that the door was closed. "I've been nothing, nothing, but nice to you since I joined the band. Which, by the way, was only like a month after it started, remember? It's not my fault Grant didn't want to play with you guys anymore but if this is how you treat your bass players, then I'm not fucking surprised. Gareth, get off of your fucking high horse. You are not the lead of this band, hell, neither am I. But, at least I respect everyone's role in this band, including yours." You stepped towards him and huffed, poking his chest on the last word. "You're just so," you groaned and looked at him, trying to hold in your anger. You let out a deep breath and clenched your fists before they fell to your sides. "Just get out of my fucking room, now." You raised one arm and pointed towards the door behind him. "Now."
"I do respect your role. In fact, I respect everyone's role." He said, crossing his arms over his chest. 
"Yeah, well, you don't fucking show it. It's always 'you're off', 'your solo was too late', 'your bass isn't tuned right'; why is nothing I do good enough for you?" You questioned, standing close to him, your arms crossing over your own chest. 
"Why do you feel like you need to prove yourself to me?" He responded, moving his face closer to yours. 
"I don't feel like I need to prove myself to you, but sometimes some encouragement and praise is nice and needed, from all of your bandmates." You said, your face now inches from his. "If we're all in this together then you should fucking show that you care." 
He narrowed his eyes and looked at you. "So, then, what do you want?" He asked, smirking slightly. "Oh, your solo was so amazing tonight, oh your bass sounded so in tune tonight, oh you sounded so perfect tonight and it was so hot when you jumped around in a circle with your bass during the last song." You looked at him, a soft blush creeping over your cheeks as you heard the words come out of his mouth. You tried to keep the pink tint of your cheeks out of his view, but it was clear he saw. 
"Oh, Gareth, your drum solo was so on point tonight, you actually sounded really good tonight, and that little head nod you do while drumming, oh my god, I'm totally swooning for you." You replied. He smirked, moving his face closer to yours, his lips almost touching yours. 
"Yeah, that’s better, princess; that’s exactly how it should be.” Gareth paused slightly before staring into your eyes, “also, who the fuck said that I didn't like you?" A confused look fell over your face after hearing his question. "Earlier you said people on this floor don't want to listen to me trying to prove myself to a woman I don't even like—who said I didn't like you?"
"You. You have told me that you don’t like me multiple times."
"No, I've never actually said that to you, or to anyone for that matter. Because technically, the problem isn't that I don't like you, the problem is that I like you a lot." He said those words and your heart jumped in your chest, a shocked look growing on your face. "Look, do you know how hard it is to be behind you on stage every night, watching your every move? You're so fucking hot. Jumping around in your little mini skirts and all those tight pants. If my solo is ever off or if I'm ever messing up the beats it's your fault. You're to blame because all I'm doing is fucking watching you during the show, instead of focusing on my drum set."
"I don't believe you." You said truthfully, looking up at him. His face was still inches from yours, both of you staring into each other's eyes. "I feel like this is all a game to get inside my head and make me mess up every single show." He smirked softly, towering over you. 
"Is it really that easy to get inside that pretty little head of yours?" Gareth asked slowly, moving his hand up to your face. He held your face softly and looked at you, the redness now growing more prominent on your face. He tilted your head up gently, forcing you to look up at him. "You're literally so fucking hot, the fact that you're still single blows my mind. And, honestly, the fact that Eddie and Jeff don't get distracted like I do while on stage with you is also mind boggling to me. I mean, yeah, I'm behind all of you so I see everything, but you walk over to Jeff all the time and distract him while Eddie is singing and he smiles along and goes with it, never missing a chord. If you ever came over to my drum set I think I would actually forget how to fucking play; the sticks would just sit in my hands motionless." He moved his hand down to the side of your neck, holding it carefully before he leaned in slowly, his warm breath hitting your lips. "Ever since you joined the band, ever since that first band practice with you... all I've wanted to do is kiss you so fucking hard and find out what's actually under all these mini skirts and crop tops you always wear." He mumbled, his face so close to you that his lips were almost touching yours. "I've just wanted to pick you apart piece by piece for my own personal pleasure."
"Then do it." You replied, watching him smirk. "What's stopping you?"
He didn't hesitate after hearing your answer. He crashed his lips into yours, kissing you roughly. His hands found their way to your hips, gripping them tightly as he pulled your body towards his roughly. 
You groaned when your body hit his, your arms moving to his neck. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the intense kiss between you both. You pulled away slightly and looked at him, smirking to yourself. "You know," you started, "I've always wanted to do that to you too; find out what's under these lame band tees you wear all the time." You admitted to him, looking down at his Metallica shirt.
"Maybe we should just find out then, huh?" He asked, kissing you again. You pulled him over to your bed and stumbled slightly on your way, never breaking the kiss. You stopped when your legs hit the mattress and Gareth pulled away from the kiss to push you down gently onto the soft hotel bed. He slid off his flannel and pulled his t-shirt over his head, throwing both to the side of the room. He crawled on top of you and looked down at you, smiling a little. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, his eyes scanning your face carefully. 
"I've never been more sure," you replied as you returned the smile. He kissed you again, his hands tugging at your crop top. He pulled it up, breaking the kiss to get your shirt up and over your head. He looked down, seeing your bright red lace bra. His left hand made its way to your left breast, squeezing it gently through the lace fabric.
"Mm, you're wearing my favorite color. And it looks so fucking good on you." He kissed your neck slowly before he kissed down your collarbone and chest. He bit the skin above your bra softly, sucking at the spot. You moaned softly, watching him. He kissed down your stomach, stopping right above your black skinny jeans. He undid them and slid them off slowly, revealing your matching red lace thong. "Matching today, are we?" Gareth asked, sitting up slightly to get a better look at your body in your matching set. 
You giggled slightly, looking up at him with a wink. "Yeah, my tradition has always been to wear matching sets on performance days. I think it helps me perform better," you admitted, his eyes scanning back up your body to meet yours.
"Well, I think that's really fucking hot." He undid his own jeans, sliding them down. He crawled on top of you in his boxers and smiled, before he kissed you again. 
You pushed him over and pinned him to the bed, now taking the spot on top. You crawled on top of him and straddled his waist, leaning down to kiss him again. He groaned into the kiss, his hands grabbing your hips as he moved against you slowly, creating friction. You moaned softly and pulled away slowly, kissing down his neck to right above his collarbone. You bit the skin softly and sucked on it, creating a pink mark that would soon turn into a bruise. 
You smirked at the mark and looked back up at him. His bright blue eyes now dark as they watched you on top of him, craving more from you. You reached behind your back and undid your bra, sliding it off of your shoulders before you threw it to the side of the bed. His eyes met your breasts, staring at them before he moved his hands up to them; he held them in his hands carefully, squeezing them softly, which caused you to groan. You groaned loudly and moved your hips down again, rubbing against him. 
"Fuck, baby,” he groaned, squeezing your breasts harder. "You're so fucking gorgeous," he breathed, looking back up at you. You blushed at his words, moaning softly as he continued to squeeze and massage your breasts. 
"Fuck," you breathed, looking at him. "You know, you're not too bad yourself," you smirked. You leaned in and kissed him again, receiving a groan back from him. He moved one hand down your chest and stomach, stopping right on the front of your panties. He rubbed you softly and slowly through the thin, lace fabric, receiving a whine back from you. "You…You can't tease me..." you said softly, pulling away from the kiss slightly. 
"And why not?" He asked, continuing to rub up and down your folds softly and slowly. “I think it’s fun,” he muttered as he looked up at you, leaning in to kiss you again. His lips pressed against yours roughly, kissing you intensely. You sighed into the kiss, moving against his hand to try and create some more friction for yourself. 
"Eager, are we?" Gareth grinned into the kiss, pulling back to look up at you again.
You rolled your eyes slightly, a bit embarrassed that your body and moves were giving you away but you really couldn't control it much anymore. "Don't let this go to your head," you sighed, kissing him again. He chuckled softly, moving his hands to rest on your hips gently.
"Too late," he mumbled, rubbing circles on your hips gently. "You're boosting my ego more than I'd like to admit," he adds, looking at you. "But, then again, I guess having a beautiful woman in your lap, almost naked, begging for your cock does that to you." 
You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. "Hey, I am not begging!" You argued, crossing your arms over your chest while you grind against him, creating friction. He groaned softly and threw his head back against the pillows, tightening his grip on your hips. 
"Not directly," he replied, "but this," he said, looking at you. "Totally means you want me." He smirked, moving his hips up gently, his rock hard bulge hitting your clothed core. 
"Okay, okay, fine," you whined, kissing him again. "You win," you mumbled against his lips. 
He smirked into the kiss and repositioned you back on the bed, laying you down on the blanket. Pulling away from the kiss, Gareth kissed down your body, stopping on your lower stomach above the hem of your thong. He kissed over your clothed core gently, glancing up at you as you moaned softly. He pulled your thong down slowly, leaving kisses over your inner thighs as he did. 
“Fuck, Gareth,” you groaned, your fingers moving to his curls gently as he left more and more kisses on your inner thighs. 
“Yes, angel?” He asked, looking up at you as he placed a soft kiss over your clit gently. You tugged on his curls gently, whining as you looked down at him.
“What’re you doing?” You asked, watching him as he licked a stripe up your folds. 
“Mm, tasting you; I’ve always wondered what you taste like. Is that alright?” Gareth asked, sucking on your clit gently. 
“Fuck, more than okay,” you sighed, pulling on his curls harder. “You’ve wondered what I taste like?”
Gareth hummed against your clit, looking up at you. “Yeah, but don’t let it go to your head,” he said softly as he sucked on your clit harder, his fingers teasing your entrance. 
You moaned softly, looking down at him, “too late.” He smirked against your clit softly, pushing his pointer and middle fingers into you slowly. You moaned louder, tugging on his curls as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of you. He placed soft kisses on your clit, pumping his fingers faster as he began to curl them slightly. 
His tongue flicked over your clit a couple of times before he pulled his fingers out of you. He moved his hands underneath your thighs, lifting them up gently as he licked up and down your folds again, his tongue now teasing your entrance. 
Whiney, needy moans left your mouth, your back arching off of the bed gently as you tangled your fingers deeper into his curls, pushing his head down gently so that it was closer to your core. Your hips moved up slightly as well, grinding against Gareth’s tongue and he continued to lick up and down your entrance. 
“One second she hates me, the next she’s pushing my head down to eat her out,” Gareth commented as he looked up at you, kissing and sucking your clit again. 
“God, you’re so arrogant,” you mumbled back, pushing his head back down again to get him to shut up. “God, you’re just, fuck,” you added, closing your eyes as your thighs squeezed together against Gareth’s head. 
He moaned against you, his tongue moving back to your entrance. He darted his tongue in and out a couple of times as his nose pressed against your clit, adding pressure there while he ate you out. His hands squeezed your thighs gently, pulling you closer to him until there was no room left. 
He could barely breathe, but he continued to eat you out sloppily as you moaned louder and louder beneath him. Your back arched more, and you tugged on his curls harder as you felt yourself getting closer and closer. 
“Gareth,” you moaned, looking down at him. He looked up at you, making eye contact with you as he stayed stuck between your thighs. “Shit, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you warned, squeezing your thighs around his head tighter. 
He groaned against you, darting his tongue in and out of you faster. He moved his head slightly, adding a different feeling of pressure onto your clit with his nose causing you to moan his name again as you released onto his tongue and face. You whined, pulling his locks tightly as you moved your hips against him, riding out your high. 
Gareth moaned as he licked you clean, licking it all up greedily. You sighed, laying back on the bed as your body relaxed fully. Gareth placed more kisses on your inner thighs before he pulled away, his mouth and chin glistening with your juices. 
“Still hate me?” He asked with a cocky grin as he wiped his chin off with his arm gently. You looked at him, rolling your eyes as you sat up gently.
“Somehow, I hate you more,” you teased, standing up slowly.
Gareth placed a hand over his chest, feigning hurtfulness with a soft gasp. “You wound me, princess,” he mumbled, placing his hands on your hips as you stood in front of him. “But, your moans and whines for me say otherwise.” 
“God, you’re so cocky,” you mumbled, sinking down to your knees in front of him. “Let’s see if I can make you moan and whine for me now,” you added, playing with the waistband of his boxers. You looked up at him as you tugged his boxers down gently, a gasp escaping his lips as the cool air hit his rock hard cock. He groaned and took a step back, stepping out of his boxers before sitting on the edge of the bed.
You crawled towards him on your knees before you wrapped your right hand around the base of his cock, placing soft kisses on the tip of his cock. “Well, shit, never thought I’d see the day that you were on your knees for me, but, here we are,” Gareth smirked, running his fingers through your hair as you looked up at him. You wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, taking some of him in your mouth slowly. “Well, fuck, that’s even better,” he added, “you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, and look at that! It makes you shut up.” He smirked, pushing your head down, forcing more of his cock into your mouth. 
You groaned loudly, gagging slightly as Gareth continued to push your head down more and more. You looked up at him, groaning around him as his fingers tightened around your locks of hair. He pulled your head back gently before he pushed it back down, groaning himself as he bucked his hip up into your mouth. 
“God, angel, you’re so good with your mouth,” he said, watching you as you continued to gag around his cock. “Taking me so well, letting me fuck your face, made so perfectly for me.” He sighed, pushing your head down more until you were a gagging mess, taking all of him in your mouth. “It’s okay baby girl, breathe through your nose,” he said softly, letting you adjust to the feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat.
You did as he said, breathing through your nose as you looked up at him, tears brimming your eyes from the feeling. He pulled you back by your hair slightly before pushing your face back down onto his cock. You groaned more and more as Gareth basically used your mouth and face fucked you.
Tears were spilling out of your eyes as you looked up at him, watching him smirk back down at you. “That’s it, princess, just like that, fuck, you’re being so good; letting me use you for my own personal pleasure.” He groaned out, moving his hand to push your hair out of your face. “Aw, what’s wrong?” He asked, moving his other hand to dry the tears from your cheeks gently as you continued to bob your head up and down. “Can’t take it?” 
You tried to pull back but he stopped you, pushing your head back down. “You’re doing so good, angel,” he sighed, bucking his hips up again as you gagged yet again. “Mm, so good, so perfect, so pretty, so fuck,” Gareth moaned your name loudly as he bucked his hips up again, pushing your head down as he came inside your mouth. He moaned your name again and again as he shot ropes of his release into your mouth and down your throat. “Fuck, take it, swallow it all, I know you want to.”
You moaned around him, swallowing every last drop that the cocky drummer left in your mouth. You bobbed your head a few more times before he released his grip on your hair, groaning as you pulled away from him. You sat back on your knees and coughed slightly, trying to catch your breath. After a few seconds you looked up at him, sticking your tongue out at him like a child. 
“Still hate me?” You asked breathlessly, winking at him.
“You’re a grade A bitch, but, fuck you’re good with your mouth,” he said, pushing your hair our of your face yet again. “Too bad you can’t sing like you suck dick,” he added, smirking at you.
“Yeah, too bad you can’t sing like you eat pussy,” you replied, standing up. “Good with your mouth but you don’t shut the fuck up, and you always need to have the last word, always.”
“Hey! I do not always need to have the last word,” he argued, standing up with you. 
“Yes, you do,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck. 
“Do not,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist. You rolled your eyes and leaned in, kissing him roughly to try and get him to shut up. He smirked into the kiss, kissing you back eagerly. He ran his tongue along your lower lip, sticking it into your mouth after you gasped. He groaned into your mouth as he tasted himself on your tongue, leaving you to moan and groan as you tasted yourself on his tongue as well.
He pulled you closer to his body, his cock springing to life again as it poked at your thigh. You moaned, moving your right hand from around his neck as you trailed it down his body. You ran your hand over his bicep muscles, his chest and stomach muscles before stopping at his cock. You wrapped your hand around his gently, squeezing it before you started pumping it slowly. 
“Fuck,” he breathed, pulling away from the kiss. “Look, I’m sure your hand is great, but, I think I’d much rather fuck your pretty little pussy,” he looked at you, trailing kisses down your neck and chest as you squeezed his cock again. “That is,” he sighed, “if you think you can handle my cock.” You looked at him and rolled your eyes.
“Mhm, sure I can. What makes you think you can handle my… pretty little pussy?” You asked, kissing his neck softly.
“If I can handle being in a band with you, I think I can handle anything,” Gareth groaned as you left more and more kisses on his neck. He wrapped his hands under your thighs and lifted you up carefully, before he pinned you to the wall of the tiny hotel room. “Especially your pretty little pussy,” he said, kissing your lips again. 
You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. You played with the curls at the base of his neck as your lips moved against his. He repositioned himself slightly, rubbing the tip of his cock against your folds. You gasped at the feeling, resting your head back against the wall. 
“Gareth, please,” you sighed, looking up at him.
“Please what, baby girl?” He replied, looking at you with that same cocky grin he always wore.
“Please fuck me,” you answered, trying to move your hips closer to his. “Please, just, fuck me against this wall. I need you inside of me,” you whined. He smirked, pushing the tip of his cock inside of you slowly.
“Is that really how you feel, baby? You want me to fuck you against this wall? I thought you hated me?” You groaned, closing your eyes as he sunk more and more inside of you. Gareth moaned your name, now fully inside of you. “Shit, you are so tight,” he mumbled, kissing and nipping at your neck. “Seems pretty accurate, though. Of course you would be tight, you’re stuck up and rude as hell; it just fits.” 
“Yeah,” you moaned, adjusting to his size as he began to thrust in and out of you slowly and deeply. “And you’re so big, which makes sense considering you have a cocky ego the size of,” you were cut off by a moan as he bit on your neck harder and thrusted into you faster.
“My cocky ego is the size of what, angel?” He asked, leaving marks on your neck.
“Hm?” You asked, completely losing your train of thought as he was thrusting.
“Aw, baby girl, are you drunk for my cock?” He smirked, moving to leave kisses on the other side of your neck.
“Maybe in your dreams,” you moaned, your fingers scratching down his back as he thrusted harder and deeper. “Hm, wow, ironic, you do know how to be in rhythm?” You groaned out, digging your nails into the flesh on his back. You wrapped your legs around his waist, trapping him against you.
“Pipe down, princess,” he groaned out, kissing up your jawline. “Actually, you could probaby just fuck off.” He kissed your lips again, thrusting deeper and deeper with each thrust. You moaned into the kiss, whining against his lips as you felt your second orgasm build for the night. 
“Fuck, Gareth,” you said softly, “I’m gonna cum,” you added, looking up at him.
“Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock. Show me how much you love getting fucked by me and my cock,” Gareth replied, leaving soft kisses over your chest. He thrusted up into you again, hitting your sweet spot before you moaned, your legs tightening around him. You clenched around him, moaning his name as you came for the second time that night, something that Gareth was probably never going to let you forget about. You bucked your hips up and continued to release around him, completely forgetting where you were. 
Gareth helped you ride out your high, thrusting slow and steady as he kissed your lips softly. He moaned against your lips, cock twitching inside of you as he moaned your name. He thrusted deeply one last time before he came deep inside of you, ropes of his cum coating your walls. You groaned at the feeling, sighing as he rode out his high as well.
He sighed, trying to catch his breath as you kept him pinned against you. He rested his forehead on your shoulder slightly, his fingertips grazing up and down your thighs gently. After a few minutes he pulled out of you, wincing at the feeling while you whined at the loss of him. Gareth walked to the bed and set you down gently, your body relaxing as it hit the soft mattress. 
Walking to the bathroom quickly, Gareth came back with a towel. He looked at you and smiled a little, an actual smile, as he cleaned you up gently. He threw the towel on the ground before he crawled on the bed next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist gently. His head nuzzled into your neck as he left soft and sweet kisses over the marks he had left earlier. 
“Hm, are you okay?” He asked softly, looking up at you, his baby blue eyes back to normal as they shined in the light. You nodded, smiling a little as you pushed his hair out of his face.
“Mhm, perfect. You?” He nodded back, smiling at you.
“I’m wonderful, thanks to you.” You closed your eyes, cuddling into Gareth more as you relaxed. You jumped slightly when you heard a knock on your hotel room door, Jeff and Eddie calling your name from the other side with drunken giggles thrown in.
You groaned and jumped up from the bed, scrambling to find clothes. You found Gareth’s Metallica shirt and his boxers, sliding them both on as you fixed your hair gently. You looked at Gareth and threw the blanket over him to hide him. 
“Hey!” He mumbled into the blanket, poking his head out to look at you. You moved your finger to your mouth and moved towards the door quickly, opening it to reveal a very drunk Eddie and Jeff.
Eddie and Jeff smiled at you, giggling your name. “Have you seen Gareth?” Eddie asked, looking at you.
“Yeah, he said he’d catch up with us but he’s not in his room and he’s not answering his phone.” Jeff added, looking you up and down with a small raised eyebrow.
“Nope,” you lied, “haven’t seen him.”
“Interesting,” Jeff replied, looking at you. “Well, if you see him, can you let him know we were looking for him?” You nodded quickly and began to close the door slowly.
“Yeah, will do, bye guys!” You said as you closed the door in their faces, locking it.
“Dude, she just got laid,” you heard Jeff mumble from the other side of the door. Eddie gasped and looked back at your door.
“No fair! Lucky,” Eddie muttered.
You groaned and walked back to the bed, flopping down next to Gareth.
“You haven’t seen me, huh?” He smirked, moving towards you again. You hit his arm gently and smirked back.
“Eddie and Jeff are looking for you,” you giggled, looking at him.
“Yeah, they can wait,” he smiled, leaving another soft kiss on your lips.
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morangoowada · 4 months ago
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Can I steal her from Genshin and make her my Brazilian oc instead
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mywritersmind · 24 days ago
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BREAK MY HEART AND I SWEAR IM MOVIN’ ON WITH YOUR FAVORITE ATHLETE - LN4
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summary : You weren’t joking when you wrote the lyric ‘Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on with your favorite athlete’. What a perfect opportunity when that same athlete falls right into the palm of your hands with your ex’s burning gaze directed straight at you.
listen up : reader wrote ‘good graces’ ! flustered lando! protective lando! sorry to anyone named nick.
words : 1519
⋆。‧˚⋆
“Need a shot of your strongest!” I slap my hand down on the bar, my friends around me and looking worried. I’m fine! I’m absolutely fine!
Is my ex currently across the room from me? Yes! But I'm cool, I'm calm, and I'm collected.
I down the bitter liquor, pushing back my hair and taking a breath. “Fuck him.” I mumble as my friend's hand goes to my arm. I’m completely over him, but every time my eyes land on that jerk I can’t help but remember how I caught him fucking his assistant.
Jackass wasn’t even talented enough to have an assistant, I should have known.
I start dancing, forgetting about my hatred and focusing on my friends. The true loves of my life! I throw my hands up, ‘Cupid's Chokehold’ playing as we all sing around and laugh.
I hear the mumbling and whispering instantly, a new ground walking into the exclusive club my friends pulled me into. My best friend squeals, grabbing my arm, “That’s Lando Norris!”
I raise a brow, still dancing and turning to see the man and his own group. I recognize a few from when my ex would get up at 4AM to see their races.
Formula 1 drivers have a reputation… most worse than any other soccer or hockey player. I watch Lando, a drink in his hand as his eyes scan the crowd.
The reputation makes sense, a face like that doesn’t just shrug off girls.
I turn before he can see me. He doesn’t know who I am, I doubt any F1 driver knows a borderline inappropriate pop star.
“You have to talk to him!” She screams, jumping up and down in her heels now.
“No!” I laugh and think she’s going to drop it until she gives me an annoyed look.
“That’s hypocritical!” I laugh, how the fuck is that hypocritical? I am forced to realize what she’s referring to as I turn and see my ex standing in front of the driver.
He’s smiling like the idiot he is, asking for a photo and clearly going on for too long. Lando is his absolute favorite driver, I couldn’t escape his face for the two years I was dating my ex.
My friend's smile grows, and she starts singing. “Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on with your favorite athlete!” she’s off key and definitely drunk, pushing my arm she laughs, “This is your fucking time! It’s your own words! He broke your heart babe!”
At her last words I frown, making up some excuse to get another drink. I look back at Lando as I walk back to the bar, my ex is still there but I catch Lando’s eye, accidentally sending him a disgusting look.
I rip my eyes away and order another drink. I sip on it, my legs crossed on a bar stool and my back against the counter as I watch my ex go back to his friends.
I know he sees me, and I'm grateful he hasn’t said anything. He’s an asshole and I'm upset that he’s ruining my night by his proximity to my friends and I.
“Do I know you?” The unfamiliar accent catches me off guard, looking away from my ex and up at Lando Norris. Shit.
“Um… No?” I sip my drink again, trying to ignore his arm resting behind me and how delicious he smells.
“So why were you death glaring at me?” I can’t help but laugh at this, his brow quirks when I do.
“I wasn’t! Not at you at least…” I look back to my ex, nodding, “I was glaring at him.”
“Well he must have done something really bad to you because that look was damn scary.” I bring my lips to my glass again, locking eyes with his that are so green, even in the club lights.
“He’s my ex.”
Lando looks genuinely surprised at this, “Your… ex?” he points and nod, “Yours? As in dating ex?”
“Yes. What other type of ex is there?”
Lando shrugs, eyeing him and shaking his head, “Sorry. I genuinely just don’t believe it! He’s…” He stops himself, like he realizes he’s actually speaking out loud, “Well you’re way out of his league! You’re fucking gorgeous, and honestly on my to-do list of the night.”
I raise a brow at this as his eyes go wide, “I mean I wanted to talk to you! Not in a creepy way! In a genuine way.” I turn towards him more and clock the sincerity in his voice, “So, i’m assuming you broke up with the dick?”
“He cheated on me.” Lando’s jaw drops at this, “Okay shut up now you’re just boosting my ego.”
“It deserves to be boosted! Fucking hell, asshole. Shouldn’t have let him take a photo.” He smirks at me and it makes my smile return, “You do look familiar though…”
“I’m a singer, Y/n L/n.”
He laughs, tapping his fingers against the counter, “I know you! My teammate's girlfriend is obsessed! You're the one with the funny lyrics.” By ‘funny’ he means horny as fuck.
I nod, “And you’re my ex’s favorite athlete.” He cringes at this.
“Not yours?”
“I know nothing about Formula 1.” I shrug as his hands go to his curls, “But I do know you.”
His smile widens at this, his eyes soft, “I like that.”
Lando is nothing like I imagined. I thought he would be annoying and honestly a dick, but instead he’s just flirty and actually hilarious.
He’s cute too, buys me a drink, moves his hand to the outside of my leg to pull down my dress that’s riding up my thigh.
Fuck those lyrics, I want him.
He’s funny and ridiculously stunning, “You know- once I mentioned that you were cute, not even hot or anything, and Nick didn’t talk to me for two hours!”
Lando scoffs, “That’s just rude.” he motions to his face, “Anyone could see i’m adorable.”
“Fuck, now i’m boosting your ego!”
He smiles, “You’re doing that by just looking at me.” He's a flirt and I love him for it.
He’s looking at me like I hung the moon. We just met and he’s leaning down to hear what I'm saying over the loud music, his hand never leaving me.
I reach up and twirl a piece of his hair around my finger, “I like your curls.”
“Thanks love…” the nickname comes out smooth and easy. Far too dangerous for someone I barely know and someone I really like.
He tells me about his travel schedule and how he likes my dress. I tell him where I live and when I tour… “I wanna see you perform.”
I laugh, his hand still on my leg, “I barely know you.”
“Easy fix. Come home with me tonight.” It’s straightforward and risky, yet very tempting. “I’ll let you know everything about me.”
I bite my lip as his eyes stray from mine, “Norris.” I say sternly as he nods, slowly looking back at my eyes with a cheeky look on his face.
“Yes or no, love? Break my heart, it’s fine!” He says dramatically as I laugh and roll my eyes, leaning away from him before his hand finds my waist and pulls me closer, “You don’t have to. I’m just offering…”
“Get me a water, then we’ll see.” His smirk is back and his hand lingers on me before walking down to where the barista is flirting with a pretty girl and not paying any attention to us.
I smile as he leaves, waving to my friends as they motion to text them and blow me a kiss. I’m still smiling when someone slides next to me.
“Y/n!” I know the voice instantly and it makes me feel sick. He’s beaming as if he is privileged to see me, which he is, but he shouldn’t look so happy.
“Nick.” I say, my smile gone and my warm and fuzzy feeling disappeared.
“I didn’t know you were here!” Liar. “How’ve you been?”
“You mean how have I been since I caught a girl sucking your limp dick?” I say with my brows raised, “Oh just peachy.”
His smile falters. Dickhead.
My actual savior returns, a head turning smile on his face until he sees my ex. Lando walks past him, not even sparing a glance and handing me my ice water.
“Ready to go?” His hand is warm on my hip, his gaze cold when looking at the man who stares at the two of us.
“Sorry… what?” Nick is genuinely frozen in place as I pop out of my seat, Lando gripping me with both hands now. Shit his hands are big.
“Mate… she wrote it in a song.” He nods at him as I grin, a straw at my lips and giggle in my throat. Lando leans down close to my ear as we walk away. I can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “I’ll show you a real man.”
@//YOURUSERNAME
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liked by landonorris, lilymunihe, and carlossainz…
yourusername i’m a woman of my word🤷🏻‍♀️
landonorris definitely lost a fan but gained the most important person in my life. i love you😘❤️
comments on this post have been restricted…
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apomaro-mellow · 1 month ago
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inspired by this post
The last thing on Steve's mind was Eddie Munson. Even when he was all Dustin could talk about. He barely spared the guy a thought when they were in school together to begin with. Eddie occupied precisely zero percent of his brain space.
So it was kind of jarring to have him suddenly take up all the space he had. Steve had come to the school to pick up Dustin, Mike, and Lucas only to see them crowding around Eddie, who was holding one of the nurse's trusty ice packs to his face.
Steve usually just honked his horn to get them to run up and get in, but there was no separating them right now. And the moment Steve walked over, there was a cacophony of voices, shouting over each other. He had to shout even louder to get them to stop and Eddie's wince didn't go unnoticed.
Once it was quiet, Steve only asked. "Who?"
"Jason and his cronies", Mike spat out.
"All of you, car. Now."
"But-!"
"Now!", Steve ordered. The three of them shifted and Steve realized he needed to be specific because obviously they weren't going to leave Eddie behind. And leaving him wasn't a part of Steve's plan either.
"All of you. Munson, you get to ride shotgun."
He didn't wait long enough to see Eddie's expression before turning to get in his car. There was a mad scramble and once again they continued to shout at each other, trying to tell the story. Steve didn't even bother trying to quiet them then, settling for having to piece together the story.
He knew Lucas had tried out for basketball. Between Steve and Mr. Sinclair, he'd gone from hopeless to hopeful. Steve even warned Lucas that sometimes the team did a little hazing for the new recruits. Apparently the hazing went too far in Lucas' case and Eddie stepped in.
Steve never would have expected Eddie to care. To actually step between Lucas and danger when he'd gone out for sports instead of his weird nerd club. Steve found it easy to relate. When they got to his house, he didn't mean to, but basically manhandled Eddie to the bathroom where the first aid kit was.
"Umm-"
"Don't talk", Steve said. Both because he needed to work on his face and also because he wasn't sure what Eddie would say. This was weird, of course it was. But it was the right thing to do. Steve wondered when the right thing would start to feel less weird. After patching Eddie up, he sent him to the living room. Dustin had already turned the tv to something, taking advantage of the Harrington's sound system. And Mike and Lucas were already raiding the fridge.
"Don't get too comfortable", Steve said, hands on his hips. He sighed before heading up to his room. The nail bat was still in his trunk, but he wouldn't need a weapon that rough. When he came back downstairs, bat hanging over his shoulder, Eddie's non-swollen eye got wide.
"Where are you going with that?"
"Taking care of some business", Steve said. "If I'm not back in an hour, order some pizza. Eddie and only Eddie is allowed to drink the beers in the fridge."
There was a trio of groans, but Eddie was still to gobsmacked to speak.
"What the hell is he about to do?", he finally found the words once Steve was out the door.
"Probably gonna bust some kneecaps on Lucas' behalf", Mike said before crunching on a handful of potato chips.
Eddie looked to Dustin for confirmation. There was no way, right? But Dustin only grinned.
"I told you. Bad. Ass."
Eddie still didn't believe it even when Steve returned, a bit sweaty and hair slightly mussed, the beginning of a bruise on his cheek but otherwise unscathed.
He had to believe it when he found out Jason and a few other players suddenly had broken hands or legs.
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devotion-disorder · 2 months ago
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it ok yall i caved and bought the game moments after i made my last post and im living out my blissful love life now
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this screenshot out of context is taking me out lol hes like you are.🫵 dumbass?😄 you🫵 illiterate🫵😄
Ive got through most of the game and boy i have some THOUGHTS... spoilers under the cut!!
I didn't expect to like the game so much cause im not actually that much of a horror fan (<- squeamish) , and like i said in the last post I wasn't sure how fun a game all about decrypting the dialogue will be (<- dumbass). But in the end I think the game mechanics is exactly the source of all the charm!! And come to think of it, it's a very unique mechanic too. The word-guessing makes the game exciting and scary (and sometimes is the key to avoiding certain death), but there's also just something about overcoming "broken" language to express your thoughts that is inherently really sweet to me. Maybe this is a wild comparison but its like that greentext thats like "bad times friend ahead...i go away but we are two of soul, i will return".
The game is also just pretty player-friendly, and the characters are all (well, mostly) really chill, so it wasnt very hard to guess most of the words too. But i will say that sometimes, you can kind of tell the nuance of the language-translation makes more sense as Japanese, so maybe that gave me a slight edge.
After playing the demo I thought this would be a really short game (like around 2-3 hrs), but I clocked in a solid 6 hours today LOL...and im still missing a few endings. Big spoiler but when MC "kills" Mr. crawling it genuinely upset me like GIRL WHAT IN THE FRESH HELL..........😭😭😭 but thank god he was fine :DD the scene where he shut himself in a closet crying because he thought the MC abandoned him 😭😭😭😭 IM SORRYYY but also like omg...😭😭😭😭 he ouppy............😭😭😭😭
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ouppy 🥹🥹🥹🥹🫳🫳🫳🫳🫳👐👐👐👐😭😭😭😭😭😭
But in contrast to those heavy moments there are also points where i think the game doesn't take itself very seriously LOL so by like 3 hours in it just kind of became a really chill game :)) I love how the MC is just so ridiculously forward being like "Do you have a crush on me or something 🥺👉👈" and most of them were just like "whats that lmfao"
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f1fantasys · 4 months ago
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Another day, another shitshow, another fuck
Summary - post Monza angst and smut. FUCK YOU MCLAREN.
Warnings - filthy smut, fingering, oral, m and f receiving, blowjob, p in v sex, over stimulation, anal, squirting, swearing.
3.6K+
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Should you be surprised that it was another shit race for Lando? Where his team, and teammate fucked him over again? No.
Did it hurt? Yes.
It hurt like hell to see Lando put in that position again. Were Mclaren so fucking blind that they couldn't see it was ONLY Lando who was in contention for the driver's championship?
Yes, the team need each other. Every single person is a valuable part to winning the Constructors Championship, but to see the way they were literally shoving Lando and his chances of the dc to the side - you were no okay with.
Before the summer break, Hungary was a shitshow. His team manipulated Lando and guilt-tripped him to give up the win. Saying ''the way to win a championship is not alone'' He literally gifted his teammate a win, and had to take the brunt of it, losing out every precious point more he would have scored to close the gap to Max.
Now today, all Lando spoke about was getting a 1-2 for the team, yet his teammate only talked about winning. Where were the team orders today? Where did the words from Hungary disappear to?
All you know is that Lando deserved better, instead of getting fucked time and time again when he is driving at his best and doing everything he can to be the team player and fight for his own title which he's dreamed about every sine he was a little boy.
You couldn't attend Monza as you'd just flown back to Monaco from a modeling job in Brazil. You'd landed just in time to watch the race, screaming at the tv and heart aching for what Lando had to go through because of his ''team''
When the race ended and you saw how defeated Lando looked, you'd sent him a message saying you were home and that you loved him, knowing a simple message like that would calm him down and tell him you're there for him.
A few hours later, as you were just chilling in the living room watching some tv, you heard the front door open. You shot up and winced when you saw Lando walk through the door, your heart clenching at the sight of him.
He looked tired, frustrated, angry, sad, helpless. The list goes on. He had a pair of joggers with an oversized quadrant hoodie on, cap hiding his precious curls as his eyes were red and swollen, face drained of his usual brightness.
''Lan, baby'' you whispered as you walked up to him, watched him drop his bags and take his cap off.
He looked at you, his face softening when he saw you, as you enveloped him in a tight hug, trying to pour all of your love for him into it.
You soothed his back and played with the hair at the back of his neck and Lando buried his head in the crook of your neck, breathing deep and staggered.
''I'm here, just breathe. Gonna all be okay Lan'' you said, trying to find the words to calm him down though it would take some time.
''I know, thank you'' he whispered, pulling back and kissing you gently as he cupped your face.
''Missed you'' he said, hugging you again.
''Missed you too my love. Wanna go shower and have something to eat? Just cuddle after?'' you asked, knowing thats' what he always wanted after a bad race.
''Yeah'' he said quietly before retreating to the bedroom while you ordered some food for the both of you.
You didn't press him at first, to start talking about today, or anything at all. He'd asked how your week was and that was it. Comfortable silence through dinner. Once you'd both eaten as much pizza as you could, you watched some more tv in silence, until your nerves gave up and you had to say something.
You pulled back from where you were cuddling Lando at his side and gently looked at him, hoping your eyes would tell him to please open up to you.
''Talk to me Lan'' you said.
He licked his lips. ''Not much to say really. Just fuck up after fuck up''
You sighed. You didn't want to show him pity, because that was the last thing he needed. But you told him how ''he needed to stop blaming himself and see that it was his team and teammate, as usual,'' and that ''you knew he did everything he could to give it his all, how he is driving at his best and it will all pay off soon, he just needs to give it time''
''Thank you baby, really, i don't know what I'd do without you. I love you so much'' he said once you'd finished talking about the shitshow.
You leaned forward, pecking his nose. ''I love you too Lan, always''
You cuddled up again and watched something random again, just content to be with each other.
Lando had his arms wrapped around you, drawing lazy circles on your legs until his hands kept itching closer and closer to your core which was getting wetter and wetter with each movement. You didn't move or say anything though. You wanted him to carry on as he pleased, and use you as a distraction from everything.
He could probably feel your breathing increase though, and finally a few minutes later he let his hand slip into your sleep shorts, pushing your panties to the side and letting his fingers run through your folds.
Your breath hitched when he did that, and you opened your legs wider to give him better access, the both of you still not saying anything but letting your actions speak for themselves.
Your back was to Lando's chest, so he rested his chin on your shoulder as his fingers found your clit and started rubbing rough circles on it, pinching it now and then.
You closed your eyes, suppressing your moans, which Lando quickly told you not to hold in. ''Let them out baby, let me hear you'' he whispered din your ear.
So you did. When you felt his calloused index finger slide through your hole you let out a guttural moan, grinding yourself down on him as he added a second finger, thrusting them in and out hard and fast.
''Oh Lan, yes'' you whispered between breaths as he started nibbling on your sweet spot on your neck.
You were close, your body tensing at the feeling of a warmth starting to build up in your tummy and you realized you needed something to hold onto, so naturally, your hand found Lando's bulge, which by now had grown hard. You palmed him through his shorts, feeling his body jolt up with the contact.
''Fuck, y/n'' he said through gritted teeth.
''Lan I'm close, please'' you begged.
So he sped up his movements, fucking his fingers into you and curling them at just right time, sending you into an orgasmic bliss as your cum gushed all over Lando's fingers, messing your panties and shorts in the process.
''Fuck, god, Lando'' you breathed out, trying to steady it as much as you could to catch your breath again. You let your body fall back onto Lando's, only realizing now just how tense you'd gotten with his actions.
He slid his fingers out, bringing them up to his lips and licking them clean. ''My favorite'' he whispered.
Your cunt was still desperate for more, achingly clenching around nothing, and at the same time you could feel Lando's dick twitching him his shorts, also begging for attention.
Just as you were about to sink down onto your knees as give him some relief, Lando's words shook you to your core.
''Can I fuck you?'' he asked
Your brain was fizzled. Why was he asking? He knew he could do whatever the fuck he wanted with you, but also did he feel so reserved or upset that he felt the need to ask?
''Yes'' you said, eagerly, not caring how desperate you sounded, getting up form your position and watching how his eyes darkened when he saw you take off all your clothes and standing bare in front of him.
You stood there as Lando shamelessly let his eyes roam your body, licking his lips when they stopped at your dripping pussy.
He pulled you onto his lap, grabbing your face for a feverish kiss, not wasting time to let his tongue slip into your mouth as his hands wandered all over your body.
You kissed him back with as much urgency, as you let yourself grind on his thigh.
Lando let out a series of grunts as he looked down and saw the wet patch on his shorts that you left.
''Still wearing too many clothes baby'' you said, already working on taking his tshirt off as he raised his hips off the couch to rid his shorts.
Once he was finally as naked as you, you finally got onto your knees on the carpet, sitting between his legs and you took his thick girth and gave him a few pumps.
Lando's back arched off the couch as he settled his arms behind his head, resting it back and openly letting pornographic moans leave his mouth.
The noises he made as you took his tip into your mouth to suck on had you clenching your thighs together, you were sure you could cum by just listening.
You fondled with his balls as you pushed his cock further into your mouth until he was hitting the back of your throat, as you started a steady rhythm so fucking him in and out.
You looked up to see he has his eyes closed, mouth agape and he continued to let himself be heard, hips thrusting up every now and then at how sensitive he was everything his slit touched your throat.
''Fuckin hell, so good'' he mumbled, more to himself as you sped up your pace, eager to taste him.
Lando eventually bought his hands down to hold onto your face, thrusting his hips up to fuck himself into your mouth.
By now you were gagging around him, spit messing your chin and dripping down onto your thighs. Looking at that alone and hearing the sloppy sounded you were making was enough to push Lando over the edge.
He groaned as his dick twitched uncontrollably, his cum blasting out of him down your throat as his hold on your hair tightened.
You moaned at the salty taste of Lando as he praised your name like a mantra, praised you at how well you took him.
He let his body relax back, chest heaving as he was slowly coming down from his high when he finally opened his eyes and saw you still on your knees, wiping your chin with the back of your hand as your own breathing at reached new heights.
''Come here'' he said softly, pulling you onto his lap and cupping your face, gently this time, peppering your face in wet kisses as he finally licked your chin clean of the mixture of spit and cum.
He tucked your hair behind your ears as he bit down on your lower lip, feeling your grind yourself on him once again.
''Need to feel you love. Gonna let me fuck you now yeah?'' he said.
You loved when he spoke to you like that, used his words like that.
You quickly nodded your head, ''Please Lando'' you begged.
''Ride me first then I'll take you from behind?'' he asked again.
You didn't respond verbally though. You just braced your hands on his shoulders as Lando pumped himself a few times, running his cock through your folds before settling at your hole, letting you sink down on him fully in a single thrust.
Your foreheads were resting against each other as the feeling of pain and pleasure overtook your body, letting out rhythmic moans as your walls clenched around Lando.
''Fuck'' he breathlessly cooed as you bit down on your lower lip.
''Hmm'' was all you managed back.
Once your body was used to the intrusion, (you always had to have some time because Lando was bigger than average and it was stung bad at first) you lifted yourself up before slammed back down again, and you continued that rhythm as a string of obscene moans left both yours and Lando's mouths.
His hand were planted tightly on your hips, guiding your movements of riding his thick pole up and down as you couldn't help but lean down and take one his nipples into your mouth, moaned at how it felt to have it in you mouth as you bit and sucked on it. That had Lando a whining mess.
''My brat, so filthy. So fucking dirty'' he mumbled through gritted teeth, spit flying through his mouth as he said it.
Your pace was raw, riding him like your life depended on it, when Lando bought his hand down and let his fingers toy with your clit, quickly edging you on.
''Fuck Lando I'm gonna cum'' you said, panting in his face as his eyes were stuck on yours, growing darker with every thrust.
''Do it'' he said, sternly. The raspiness and hoarseness of his voice only turning you on as you leaned down and locked lips with his in a harsh kiss, both your tongues everywhere, so unable to even have a proper kiss - just licks and nips of each others mouth.
The moment he pinched your slit through his fingers, you were a shuddering mess in his arms. Your body shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through you, gushing your fluids onto Lando's dick, now running down your thighs and his as he took control of fucking himself into you.
''How do you manage to cum so violently baby? Are you okay?'' he asked, concerned etched on his face as he was always so shocked at how much cum you mustered up. Though not concerned enough to stop fucking you!
You breathed heavy, trying to talk and failing to do so he slowed his movements slightly.
''Fuck it you Lan, you don't know what you do to me'' you said, smirking at thinking how this will boost his ego.
''Yeah?'' he asked, picking up his pace again.
''Uh huh. All you'' you said, trying to keep up with him though your body was like jelly.
He sensed your weakness and gently pulled you up, man-handling your body to lay down on the couch as he placed himself between your legs, spreading them wide open before pushing his angry dick back into you, relentlessly chasing his own high now.
You shut your eyes and bit your lip when Lando leaned down and roughly sucked on your nipple, showing it no pity. Your hands found his hair, pulling at and tugging it roughly.
Lando continued his onslaught as his words started again. He was whispering how to were such a fucking good girl for letting him use you as a slut, taking his thick dick so nice, how one day he was gonna fuck a baby into you, how you'd be only his whore forever, and no one would ever get to know how good you are, how you ruined sex for him.
His words were quick to have you shaking underneath him again, an orgasmic bliss taking over your body as you were sure you would black out with the pace he was still going at.
''Uh fuck Lando, fuck me, oh god, please'' you moaned and begged, not sure what for.
He laughed, for the first time since the race ended. ''I am fucking you baby, and you're doing so good for me. I fucking love you so much'' he mumbled, putting pressure on your clit, sending you into yet another orgasm, fluids gushing out of your body uncontrollably.
Lando slowed his movements. ''Still want you form the back, get up'' he ordered. And as much as your body felt like it couldn't move, he made you move and positioned you nicely for himself, you were on your elbows, with your ass in the air and Lando sat on his heels and pumped himself a few times, letting his spit drop down onto this cock to lube himself before he finally pushed into your ass hole.
''Fucking love anal with you baby. So fucking hot'' he said through gritted teeth.
He pushed in all the way and by now words had long left your brain. All you could do was hold onto the pillow as tight as you could and shut your eyes, let them roll to the back of your head as Lando used you how he pleased.
You couldn't even muster up any energy to let any moans leave your mouth, so all you could do was pant and let out shaky breaths, with a few tears rolling down your cheeks.
Lando had pulled your body up, so you were leaning back against him and his hands snaked around to your front and squeezed and pulled at your boobs as he still slammed in and out of you.
''Lan, love you but I-I''
''Yes you can'' you interrupted, leaving open mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone.
Within seconds he'd sent you over the edge again, body quivering in his arms as he slowed his movements again, riding you through your orgasm.
''Lan''
''I know baby. One more, yeah? For me?''
How could you not when he was talking to you like that?
You nodded, and he handled your body once again and lay down on the couch, resuming his place from earlier and slowly, painfully almost, gliding his cock through your cunt again.
You held your breath, unsure how your body was gonna take it because as good as it felt, you were sore everywhere.
''You're so good. Such a good brat. One more baby, then we're done'' he said, leaning down to kiss you softly, though the bottom part of his body (and yours) was everything but soft. He ruthlessly slammed in and out of your core as you were starting to see stars now.
''Hm Lando wha-I-I'' you couldn't even form words now. Your body was on overdrive and you swear you were starting to feel things you'd never felt. You couldn't even describe what you were feeling when he asked you.
But just as his dick hit over G-spot over and over and over again, your body gave way and all of a sudden you were squirting, left right and center, unable to control it.
When Lando released what was happening, he couldn't stop his own dick from twitching unexplainably harshly, shooting ropes and ropes of milky white cum deep within you.
''FUCK, Y/N WHAT!?'' he exclaimed, unable to stop himself from shouting it out as he couldn't believe it was actually happening.
You though - you were in a state of bliss. Body tingling and fluttering as you just experienced squirting for the first time, and boy did it feel fucking amazing.
As Lando finally came down from your involuntary actions, he was quick to pull out of you and lean down, slurping and swallowing at every bit of juice and liquid your body just gave out.
His tongue on your pussy sent waves of pleasure and when he slid it through your hole, without really knowing what was happening, you ended up cumming AGAIN.
''Fuck LANDO!'' you shouted, not caring if your neighbors could hear you.
He blew some cool air over your cunt as he pulled back and gave you a sheepish smile.
''Sorry couldn't help myself'' he said, breathless as you were.
He let his weigh collapse onto your body and you arms wrapped around him tightly, trying to calm the both of you down though you were starting to shiver at the cold air hitting you sweaty skin.
Lando's curls were stuck on his forehead as your brushed them up and ran you hand through his hair.
''I've always said it and i will continue to. You are out of this world y/n. Fucking incredible in every fucking way. How the hell are you so good at making me feel this good? And I'm sorry - but you squirting is the single most hottest fucking thing you've ever done.'' he said, kissing you straight away and not giving you time to respond.
When he pulled back, you couldn't help but chuckle.
''Lan, you don't get it. Its the effect you have on me. You seriously have no idea what you do to my insides when you talk act, do anything for that matter. You'd just the most amazing person i know inside and out and just the thought of you does crazy things to me. Don't get even me started on what you make me feel when we fuck. It's unlike anything I've ever felt and i wouldn't have it any other way.''
''I don't know what i did to deserve you, but i love you so so much'' he whispered.
''I love you too baby. But promise me one thing. You wont let that asshole of a team bring you done. You need to know how fucking talented and incredible you are and will always be. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise. If they do, they'll have to come through me and i will crush them. But seriously, you are the best out there and i promise the good times will come, you will always be MY world champion. Forget what everyone else says. I love you so much.
''Thank you'' he whispered softly again.
The rest of the night was spent in bed with lazy kisses and dare you say more when you say Lando made you squirt again the next morning ;)
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rafecameronssl4t · 16 days ago
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ok hear me out........
dcc!reader watching Rafe get hurt during a game. Maybe they get into a small fight before the game and it gets into Rafe's head a little too much and throws off his game mindset
Feel free to totally ignore this if you're not vibing with the idea! Anyways I love all of you're writings, keep up the amazing work queen!!!!!!
Duties to whom? || Nfl Player!Rafe Cameron x dcc!reader
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A/n: thank u for the request i love it!!!
Warnings: angst,
Word counts: 1,795
MASTERLIST (nfl!rafe x dcc!reader au masterlist)
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The locker room felt stifling, the tension between you and Rafe thick enough to choke on. You stood in front of the mirror, carefully fixing your lipstick with steady hands despite the storm brewing inside you. “Just get out,” you said bitterly, dabbing at the corner of your mouth before tossing the tissue onto the counter.
Rafe, still in his uniform, stared at you in disbelief. His hands were on his hips, his chest rising and falling as though he’d just come off the field. “What?” he snapped, his tone laced with frustration. You turned your head slightly, catching his reflection in the mirror. “Have you forgotten that we have jobs to do, Rafe?”
“Jobs?” he repeated, his voice rising as he took a step closer. “We haven’t even finished—” “Well, I’m finished!” you cut him off, spinning around to face him fully. Your eyes burned with the remnants of the argument that had spiralled out of control. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, so just go.”
Rafe’s scoff echoed in the small room, his head tilting back in exasperation. “Unbelievable.” You turned back to the mirror, refusing to meet his gaze. The silence stretched out, broken only by the faint hum of the stadium crowd filtering through the walls. “You always do this,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, but the accusation hit its mark.
“Do what?” you shot back, spinning on your heel. “Stand up for myself? Refuse to sit here while you act like you’re the only one who’s stressed? God forbid, right?” Rafe ran a hand through his damp hair, his frustration palpable. “That’s not what this is about, and you know it.” “Then what is it about, Rafe?” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Because I’m tired of having this same fight over and over again. It’s exhausting.” For a moment, he didn’t respond. His jaw tightened, and he looked at you as though searching for the right words, something to break the cycle you were both caught in. “You think this is easy for me?” he finally said, his voice quieter but no less intense.
“Balancing all of this? The games, the media, us? I’m trying, okay? But every time I slip up, you act like I’m the bad guy.” You blinked, his words catching you off guard. “Just please,” you said, voice cracking as you turned to face him. “Get out, Rafe. I can’t perform like this!”
Your words hung in the air, and for a second, his expression flickered with something softer—regret, maybe—but it was quickly replaced by a storm of his own. “And you think I can?” he roared, throwing his arms up in exasperation, “you think it’s any easier for me?” “Well, you’re going to have to, aren’t you?” you snapped, your voice sharp as a whip.
The anger in your tone startled even you, but you didn’t care. You were too far gone, too wound up from his relentless push and pull. You turned back to the counter, furiously zipping up your makeup bag with enough force that the sound echoed in the quiet room. The air between you was suffocating, charged with unspoken feelings and unresolved tension.
“I don’t even know what you want from me anymore,” Rafe muttered, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “I want you to stop!” you said, turning around to face him, your boots clicking loudly on the concrete floor as you moved. “Stop acting like everything’s about you! Like your stress is the only thing that matters. I have a job too, Rafe, and you—” Your voice faltered for a moment, but you pushed through.
“You’re making it impossible for me to do it right now.” He stared at you, his jaw tight, hands resting on his hips as if he was holding himself back from saying something he’d regret. You didn’t wait for a response. You couldn’t. Grabbing your pom poms, you stormed past him, your boots echoing with each step. “Good luck out there,” you threw over your shoulder, the words biting and sarcastic.
“Yeah, thanks for the support,” he called after you, but there was no real venom in his voice. Just frustration, layered with something that sounded an awful lot like defeat. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t afford to. Not with the performance waiting for you just outside the tunnel and the man who could unravel you with a single glance standing behind you.
~
From the moment Rafe walked out onto the field, you could tell his head wasn’t screwed on properly. Even as you called out formations and checked on the other cheerleaders, your eyes kept drifting toward Rafe. Something about his movements was off—less sharp, less calculated. The usual precision that made him one of the best in the league wasn’t there, and you knew exactly why.
The argument in the locker room had been raw, cutting deeper than either of you realised at the time. You thought you’d tucked your emotions away, but the nagging guilt wouldn’t let up. And now, watching Rafe stumble through a game he’d normally dominate, it was clear he was still carrying the weight of your words.
This wasn’t how you wanted him to play—frustrated and reckless. By the second quarter, it was painfully obvious to everyone that Rafe wasn’t himself. His passes were less precise, his footwork shaky, and his frustration was evident in every misstep. The crowd, normally electric in their cheers for him, began to murmur uneasily.
“C’mon, Cameron,” one of the announcers said over the loudspeakers. “What’s going on with him tonight?” You swallowed hard, your chest tightening as you watched him try to shake it off, slapping his helmet and pacing on the sidelines. You could see it in his body language—he was spiraling.
And then it happened. Midway through the third quarter, the Cowboys’ defensive line broke through, faster than Rafe had anticipated. He dropped back, eyes scanning the field for an open receiver, but his timing was off. His hesitation cost him. A linebacker barreled into him with full force, slamming him to the ground.
It happened to close to you, the impact was deafening, the sound of bodies colliding and helmets crashing together making your stomach lurch. The crowd gasped, the air heavy with tension as the trainers and medics rushed onto the field. You froze on the sidelines, your routine momentarily forgotten as Rafe crumpled to the ground.
You watched as he tried to sit up, his hand clutching his shoulder, pain etched into his features. The trainers helped him to his feet, and he waved off their attempts to cart him out, insisting he could walk. But the stiffness in his movements, the way he cradled his arm, told you it wasn’t minor. You didn’t even think about it.
The moment halftime hit, you were running toward the tunnel, ignoring the whispers of the staff your and the curious looks of the crowd. When you found him in the medical room, he was sitting on the edge of a table, his shoulder iced and his jersey pulled halfway off. He looked up when you entered, his expression darkening for a moment before softening as he took in your worried face.
“You’re supposed to be with your team,” he said flatly, though his tone lacked its usual bite. “And you’re supposed to be on the field,” you shot back, stepping closer. “Are you okay?” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Took a hit. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” “Rafe…” Your voice broke slightly, and you stepped closer, your eyes scanning him for signs of serious injury.
Rafe looked away, jaw tightening. “I wasn’t focused,” he admitted, his tone low and bitter. “That hit? It’s on me. I let our fight get to me.” Your stomach churned. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t think—” “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” he cut in, his eyes finally meeting yours. “You didn’t think. You just threw all that at me and expected me to shake it off like it didn’t matter.”
You flinched but held his gaze. Your guilt surged, and you bit your lip, unsure of what to say. Finally, you reached out, your hand brushing against his uninjured arm. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to throw you off. I was just… angry, and I took it out on you.” For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, Rafe let out a heavy sigh, running his uninjured hand through his hair.
“Look, I know I wasn’t perfect out there tonight. But I can’t play when my head’s a mess. And you…” He trailed off, his voice softening. “You’re always in my head, and maybe that’s not always a good thing, but it’s the truth," A soft chuckle escaped his lips, breaking the tension, and despite yourself, a small smile cracked across your face. You stepped closer, hesitating before resting your hand on his good shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “For making it harder. For not realising how much you care.” Rafe glanced up at you, his eyes searching yours. “We’re both under a lot of pressure, but we can’t keep doing this." You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “I’ll try harder. I promise.” He gave you a small, tired smile, the tension between you easing just slightly. “Me too.”
The sounds of the stadium filtered in from the hallway, a steady hum of cheers and announcements. It was a stark reminder that both of you had jobs waiting, responsibilities to uphold no matter what had just unfolded between you. “I gotta head back before Kelli and Judy ask for my head,” you sighed, the weight of your position tugging at you. But before you turned away, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
It was brief, but it held everything you couldn’t yet put into words—an apology, a reassurance, a promise. Rafe’s lips quirked into a lazy grin as you pulled back, his usual cockiness tempered by the warmth in his eyes. “I’ll survive,” he teased, his voice rough but lighter than before. “You know me—tough as nails.” “You’ll be okay,” you murmured, your hand lingering on his uninjured shoulder for a moment longer.
It was a gentle touch, meant to steady him, to remind him that no matter what had happened earlier, you were still here. He nodded, his grin softening into something almost boyish. “I always am.” With a reluctant sigh, you turned and made your way back toward the tunnel, the click of your boots echoing in the corridor. You could feel his eyes on you, watching as you straightened your shoulders and stepped back into the bright lights of the stadium.
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elikajinnie · 18 days ago
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Heyyy could you do a oneshot of sh or hs inspired on the song what you need by the weeknd
I Am Everything You Crave - L.H
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P: Player!Heeseung X Fem!Reader (recommended age 18+)
Warnings: Non-Idol!au, Suggestive Content, Situationship?, Pursuing, Possessive Behaviour, Begging, Alcohol Consumption, Jealousy if you squint, Mature Content, he kinda down bad.
Synopsis: Working at the campus café was fine—until Lee Heeseung entered the picture. A colleague with a reputation, Heeseung had made it his mission to add you to his collection of women. Much to his surprise, you rejected him. That is, until one party changed everything. You thought you could forget what happened and move on, but Heeseung? He has no intention of letting you go so easily.
a/n: This is very suggestive okay?? since the song is freaky :3
now playing: what you need by the weeknd | fuck yeah by ballinciaga | rude boy by rihanna | shameless by camila cabello
--
Life had its ups and downs. Right and wrong. Yin and yang. It had always been like that, and it would always be like that. Life isn’t easy, and everyone experiences it differently. People make decisions—some good, some bad—and they live with the outcomes.
Your latest decision? Getting a job at the small campus café tucked between the library and the science building. It seemed easy enough. Take orders, make drinks, serve a few pastries, smile. You needed the money, and the huge gaps in your class schedule meant you either spent hours scrolling on your phone in the student lounge or aimlessly wandering around campus. You figured it was time to be productive.
Simple. Easy. A perfect plan.
Yeah, right. Super easy until the news that someone new was starting, and the worst part? You had to train them.
You found out the hard way, too—your manager casually dropped it into conversation while wiping down the espresso machine.
“Oh, by the way,” they said nonchalantly, “the new hire’s coming in tomorrow. You’ll show them the ropes, yeah? You’re good at this stuff.”
You blinked. Good at this stuff? You’d been working here for all of two weeks. Sure, you hadn’t broken the coffee machine yet, but that hardly made you a veteran barista. You wanted to argue, to say there was no way you could teach someone else when you were barely keeping yourself afloat, but the words never made it past your lips.
So, here you were—standing behind the counter the next morning, mentally preparing yourself for a complete disaster.
The door jingled, signaling someone’s arrival, and you looked up with a sigh.
And you physically recoiled, because why was Lee Heeseung standing right in front of you?
Your brain short-circuited for a moment as he stood there, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, looking around the cafe like he owned the place. Out of all the people on campus, it just had to be him. You’d rarely spoken to Lee Heeseung, he wasn’t worth your attention—one of those guys always surrounded by people, mostly girls, and partying like it was his full-time job.
And the worst part? He was good at it. Heeseung had that effortless charm, those annoyingly good looks, and he knew how to use both to his advantage. He could flash one of those lopsided grins and suddenly everyone in the room was falling over themselves to talk to him. Successful without even trying.
You narrowed your eyes as he stepped closer, stopping just short of the counter. For a second, it looked like he was sizing you up, like you were the one out of place.
“Uh… are you the trainer?” he asked, his voice smooth, as if he wasn’t about to ruin your morning.
You stared at him blankly, the words barely registering. This couldn’t be happening. Heeseung—the Lee Heeseung—was the new hire. The guy you were supposed to train.
And just like that, your “simple and easy” job turned into your personal nightmare.
You slowly nodded at first, then answered, “Yeah,” your voice as flat as your enthusiasm. You gestured for him to come behind the counter.
He made his way around to the small door flap on the side, moving with that casual confidence that you already found irritating. You led him to the back, pointing out the row of lockers shoved into the corner.
“You can set your stuff in there,” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “Aprons are on the hook.”
He nodded, tossing his bag into one of the lockers with no hesitation. Then he grabbed an apron, slinging it over his head and tying it around his waist in a way that seemed far too graceful for someone doing something so basic. Of course, even putting on an apron looks good on him, you thought bitterly.
Wordlessly, you grabbed a name tag from the counter nearby and handed it to him. It was generic, just the word Assistant in bold letters, no real customization. He took it with a small smirk, pinning it to his chest like it was some kind of award.
“Assistant, huh?” he said, glancing down at it. Then, he looked back up at you with a grin that had trouble written all over it. “Does this mean I’m your sidekick now?”
You stared at him, unamused. “It means you’re here to learn, not mess around.”
“Got it. I’ll be the best assistant you’ve ever had,” he replied, throwing you a mock salute.
You rolled your eyes and turned on your heel, heading back to the counter. “We’ll see about that. Come on, I’ll show you how to use the register.”
He followed you, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could practically feel the smug energy radiating off him. This was going to be a long day.
You led Heeseung back to the counter, pointing to the register like it was some holy artifact he’d need to respect.
“This is the register,” you said, tapping the touchscreen. “It’s straightforward, but don’t let that fool you. People will make it hard for no reason.”
He nodded, leaning in a little too close to the screen for your liking. His shoulder brushed yours, and you instinctively stepped to the side, putting some much-needed space between you.
“Here’s how it works,” you continued, ignoring the way he casually leaned against the counter like he had all the time in the world. You ran through the basics, showing him how to input orders, handle different payment methods, and deal with the occasional glitch.
“And this,” you added, pointing to the small clipboard tucked in a corner, “is where we keep track of special requests. You’ll hate this thing within a week.”
“Good to know,” he said with a small laugh, like he wasn’t taking any of this seriously.
Next, you moved to the shelves and machines behind the counter, pointing out where everything was.
“Coffee beans are in these bins,” you said, lifting a lid to show him. “Pastries are in the display case—use gloves if you’re touching them. Cups, lids, straws, napkins… all in this section here. And the espresso machine—” You gestured toward it like it was a ticking time bomb. “—don’t touch this yet. Not unless you want to break it and have the entire staff hate you.”
Heeseung raised his hands in mock surrender. “Got it. Hands off the espresso machine. Anything else I’m banned from touching?”
“Pretty much everything until I say so,” you shot back, turning to face him. “For the next three days, you’ll shadow me. Watch what I do, ask questions if you’re confused, but don’t try to take over. Once you get the hang of things, you can start doing some tasks on your own.”
He tilted his head, his lips twitching like he was holding back a smile. “So, I’m basically your personal assistant for three days?”
You narrowed your eyes. “You’re here to learn the job, not to entertain yourself.”
“Right, right,” he said, holding back a chuckle. “Serious business.”
“Exactly.” You folded your arms, watching as he leaned against the counter again, a smug glint in his eye.
Something about him made your patience wear thin, and you already knew these three days were going to test every ounce of your self-control. But you weren’t going to let Lee Heeseung get to you. Not a chance.
The door opened, and the bell above it gave a cheerful ding. Immediately, your customer service smile snapped into place, and you turned to greet the new arrival.
“Hi! Welcome in,” you said brightly. “What can I help you with today?”
The student—a guy in a hoodie and glasses—gave a polite nod before stepping closer to glance at the menu board hanging above the counter. After a moment, he pointed. “I’ll take a medium latte and, uh… one of those chocolate croissants.”
“Got it,” you replied, turning to the register. But not before noticing that Heeseung was watching you intently, his expression curious, almost amused. Ignoring him, you quickly entered the order, your fingers flying over the screen as you spoke. “So here’s how it works,” you said to him, motioning toward the display. “You tap the drink size, then pick the pastry from the bakery menu. Easy.”
He nodded, his eyes following your movements as if committing everything to memory.
Once you’d printed the receipt, you handed it to the student with another practiced smile. “Your total is on there, and I’ll bring everything out to your table in just a minute!” The student murmured a thank you before heading to a nearby seat.
Turning to Heeseung, you gestured toward the pastry display. “All right, rookie. Go grab that chocolate croissant and give it to the customer. Just use the tongs and put it in one of the small paper bags over there.”
He gave you a mock salute, grinning. “Yes, boss.”
You rolled your eyes, already turning to the espresso machine. It hummed quietly as you prepped the steam wand and started on the latte. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Heeseung make his way to the display case, grab a pair of tongs, and carefully place the croissant into a bag like it was some precious artifact.
When he finally handed it to the student, you couldn’t help but listen in as he said, “Here you go. Chocolate croissant, fresh and perfect. Just like I made it myself.”
The student chuckled awkwardly, clearly unsure how to respond, and you had to fight the urge to laugh. Of course Heeseung couldn’t resist being a show-off.
“Good job,” you muttered under your breath as he came back to the counter.
“Thanks,” he said, leaning against the counter again, that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. “See? I’m a natural.”
You ignored him, focusing on finishing the latte and pouring the steamed milk into the cup. Sliding the drink onto a tray, you carried it over to the customer, who smiled and thanked you.
As you returned to the counter, Heeseung was watching you with an amused expression.
“What?” you asked, arching a brow.
“Nothing,” he said, clearly lying. “You just take this whole customer service thing really seriously.”
“It’s called doing my job,” you shot back. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said with a wink. “I’m already learning from the best.”
You sighed, already bracing yourself for how long the rest of the day was going to feel.
For the rest of the shift, you took Heeseung through the rest of the basics. You showed him how to restock the pastry display, explained the cleaning routine, and gave him a quick rundown of how to prepare simple drink orders. At first, you were all business—focused on making sure he didn’t screw anything up. But after a while, you started to notice something… entertaining.
Heeseung didn’t just follow your instructions—he did it almost eagerly. Whether it was wiping down counters or organizing cups, he jumped at every little task you gave him. It was, admittedly, kind of fun ordering him around.
“Go grab the cups from the storage room,” you said at one point, just to see how he’d react.
Without hesitation, he nodded and walked off to fetch them, returning a minute later with the stack of cups in hand. As he set them down on the counter, he turned to you, that expectant look back in his eyes.
You frowned slightly. “What?”
“Did I do good?” he asked, his tone light but with a hint of genuine curiosity.
You blinked at him, caught off guard. Did he just… ask for praise?
“Uh… yeah,” you said, a little unsure. “You did good.”
The way his face lit up at that simple acknowledgment made you pause. Heeseung looked… happy. Actually happy. Not smug.
From then on, you couldn’t help but notice it. Every time he finished a task, he’d glance at you like he was waiting for approval. And every time you gave him even the smallest bit of praise, his smile would grow, and he’d seem even more motivated to keep going.
“Nice job restocking the pastries,” you said after he carefully arranged the croissants and muffins in the display case.
“Thanks,” he said, his grin widening as he shut the glass door.
“Good work wiping down the tables,” you added later, watching as he gave the last one an extra wipe just to make sure it was spotless.
“Thanks, boss,” he said, standing a little straighter.
It became a game in your head, almost without you realizing it. Every time he did something right—or even just passable—you threw him a little compliment.
“Great job with the lids.”
“You’re getting the hang of the register.”
“Nice work steaming that milk.”
Each time, he’d light up like you’d just told him he’d won a trophy, his energy growing as the shift went on. And as much as you hated to admit it, it was… kind of cute.
By the end of the shift, Heeseung was practically buzzing, his earlier smugness replaced by something more genuine. And you couldn’t deny it—it felt oddly satisfying to see him so eager to prove himself.
As he pulled off his apron at the end of the shift, he glanced at you one last time, his expression hopeful. “So… did I survive day one?”
You smirked, tossing your own apron into the laundry bin. “You survived. Barely.”
He laughed, his shoulders relaxing. “Good. Can’t wait to see what you make me do tomorrow.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.
You quickly grabbed your bag from the locker and didn’t waste any time heading out the door.
You slipped your phone out of your pocket as you walked, scrolling mindlessly through notifications and you were halfway through reading a message when a familiar voice cut through the noise.
“Hey, wait up!”
You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. Sure enough, Heeseung jogged up beside you, falling into step like he’d been walking with you all along.
“What, no goodbye after all my hard work?” he teased, his tone dripping with mock offense.
You glanced at him briefly, then back at your phone. “Goodbye,” you said flatly, earning a soft chuckle from him.
He didn’t take the hint. Instead, he kept talking, launching into some story about how he almost burned down his dorm’s microwave last week because he forgot to add water to his cup noodles. You hummed in acknowledgment, barely listening, more focused on the text thread in front of you than his words.
But even as you tried to tune him out, you couldn’t ignore how close he was walking next to you. His arm brushed yours more than once, and he seemed to lean in slightly every time he spoke, like he wanted to make sure you heard him—even though he was plenty loud already.
And then there was his tone. It wasn’t just casual conversation; there was something… different about it. The way he dragged out certain words, the way his smile lingered as he glanced at you, the way he leaned a little closer when he joked—it all felt too deliberate to be innocent.
You finally tore your eyes away from your phone, catching the tail end of whatever he was saying. “…but honestly, I think the ramen was just defective. You ever had something like that happen?”
“Hm,” you hummed again, your answer vague.
He raised an eyebrow at you, his grin widening. “You’re not even listening, are you?”
“Not really,” you admitted without hesitation, slipping your phone into your pocket as you approached the entrance to your building.
He laughed at that, completely unfazed. “Wow, I see how it is. I pour my heart out, and you just ignore me. You’re cold.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t ignore you if you had something important to say,” you shot back, finally giving him a proper glance.
“Everything I say is important,” he said, flashing you a playful smile that you could only describe as shamelessly flirty.
You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way his smile lingered just a little too long. “Well, thanks for walking me to class, but I can take it from here.”
“Oh, so now I’m dismissed?” he teased, taking a half step back but still lingering just close enough to make his presence known.
“Yep. Bye, Heeseung,” you said, your voice pointed as you turned toward the door.
“See you tomorrow, boss,” he called after you, his voice laced with amusement.
You didn’t bother looking back, but you could practically feel his grin as you walked away.
--
After your morning classes, you made your way back to the cafe, already bracing yourself for another day of dealing with Heeseung. When you stepped through the door, the first thing you saw was him leaning casually over the counter, his apron already on, talking to a group of girls.
You sighed to yourself. Typical.
From the way they giggled and leaned in, it was obvious they were eating up every word he was saying. And Heeseung, of course, seemed to thrive under the attention, throwing out a smirk here, a playful laugh there, and just enough charm to keep them hanging on his every word.
It wasn’t until you caught bits and pieces of his smooth, too smooth tone—compliments that were barely disguised as flirty remarks—that you really rolled your eyes. You weren’t surprised. Flirting was practically his second language.
When he finally noticed you standing there, his entire demeanor shifted in an instant. He straightened up quickly, waving at you with an almost boyish smile. Gone was the smooth talker leaning on the counter; now he looked like someone who’d just been caught red-handed.
You gave him a small, unenthusiastic wave back, not bothering to stop as you headed straight for the back room.
Inside, you grabbed your apron from the hook, tying it around your waist, and leaving your bag in the locker.
But when you turned around, ready to head back out, you nearly jumped.
Heeseung was standing in the doorway, blocking your path, a smug smile already plastered on his face like he’d been waiting for you to notice him.
“What are you doing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, your tone edging into annoyance.
“Just wanted to say hi properly,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “You rushed off so fast, I didn’t get the chance.”
“You were busy,” you pointed out, crossing your arms. “Looked like you were having fun.”
He shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. “They were just asking about the menu. Nothing serious.”
“Uh-huh,” you replied, unimpressed. “And I’m sure all that flirting was part of the menu explanation?”
He grinned, not even trying to deny it. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”
You rolled your eyes, stepping forward. “Move. I have work to do.”
But instead of moving, he stayed firmly in place, blocking the door like he had no intention of letting you pass.
“Wait,” he said, his grin softening into something more playful. “You’re not jealous, are you?”
You froze, blinking up at him. “Jealous?” you echoed, then let out a sharp laugh. “Not even in your dreams, Heeseung. Now move.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender but still smiling as he stepped aside. “No need to threaten me, boss. I’m just messing with you.”
You gave him a pointed look as you brushed past him, heading back to the counter. But as you did, you couldn’t help but notice the way his grin lingered, like he’d just gotten away with something.
The rest of the shift carried on as usual—or at least, you tried to make it usual. Heeseung, of course, wasn’t making it easy.
He followed your instructions like he had yesterday, doing everything you asked without hesitation. But you couldn’t help but notice… changes. Subtle at first, but as the hours went on, they became impossible to ignore.
For one, he’d started staring. A lot.
You could feel his eyes on you almost constantly—when you were at the register, when you were showing him how to steam milk again, when you were wiping down counters. It wasn’t just a casual glance, either. No, this was the kind of stare that felt heavy, like he was watching you. Like he was noticing things he probably shouldn’t be noticing.
And when you did catch him looking, he didn’t even try to hide it. Instead, he’d just flash you this lazy grin, like he wanted you to know he’d been caught.
“Can I help you with something?” you asked pointedly after the third—or was it fourth?—time you caught him staring.
He shrugged, unbothered. “Just observing. You know, trying to learn from the best.”
“Sure,” you muttered, turning back to the espresso machine.
But the staring wasn’t even the worst part. It was the way he spoke to you. Everything he said was low, smooth, and infuriatingly deliberate.
“Hey, boss,” he said at one point, leaning just a little too close to you as you refilled the sugar packets at the counter. “You always look this focused, or is it just when I’m around?”
You didn’t even look up. “It’s called doing my job, Heeseung.”
He chuckled, his voice warm and annoyingly charming. “Just trying to make it more fun.”
When you showed him how to set up the sandwich press later, he leaned in closer than he needed to, his shoulder brushing yours as he peered at the controls.
“So, when do I get a promotion?” he asked, his voice low enough that it sent a faint shiver down your spine.
“A promotion?” you repeated, rolling your eyes as you stepped back to put some distance between you. “You haven’t even lasted a full week yet.”
He smirked, straightening up. “Yeah, but I’m doing a great job, aren’t I? You tell me all the time.”
“You’re doing the bare minimum,” you said flatly, trying to ignore the way his smirk made your stomach flip.
“Still counts,” he replied, winking.
By the time your break rolled around, you were honestly ready to strangle him—or maybe strangle yourself for letting him get to you. You’d only known him for two days, and yet he was already worming his way under your skin in ways you hadn’t anticipated.
You sighed as you finally sank into the chair in the back room, a half-eaten sandwich on a napkin in front of you and your laptop open to a half-finished school assignment. Break time was supposed to be your one reprieve from Heeseung’s constant attention, and you were determined to make the most of it.
The cafe wasn’t busy, and you’d left him at the front with strict instructions to just hold down the fort, take simple orders, and not burn anything. He had nodded enthusiastically, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that leaving him alone might have been a mistake. Still, you couldn’t babysit him forever.
With a deep breath, you focused on your laptop, determined to finish at least a paragraph of your essay before your break ended.
But, of course, Lee Heeseung had other plans.
Not even five minutes into your break, the door creaked open, and there he was, leaning casually against the doorframe with that infuriatingly smug grin on his face.
"Shouldn't you be up front?" you asked without looking up, your tone flat as you typed out another sentence.
“I am,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Just came to check on you. You know, make sure you’re not slacking off back here.”
You gave him a deadpan look, your hands hovering over the keyboard. “I’m the one slacking? You’re the one who left the counter unattended.”
“It’s fine,” he said, waving you off as he stepped further into the room. “There’s no one out there right now. Plus, I work better when I know my boss is doing okay.”
You rolled your eyes and turned back to your screen. “I’m fine. Now get back out there before someone walks in and thinks we don’t know what we’re doing.”
But instead of leaving, he sat down in the chair across from you, propping his chin on his hand as he watched you with a lazy smile.
“What are you working on?” he asked, nodding toward your laptop.
“Schoolwork,” you said shortly, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.
“Wow,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “So hardworking. Do you ever take a break, or is that not a thing for you?”
“This is my break,” you snapped, glaring at him. “Which you’re currently ruining.”
He grinned, completely unfazed. “Come on, boss. You’ve gotta learn to relax a little. Life’s not all about essays and coffee orders.”
“It is when you’re trying to pass your classes and keep a job,” you retorted, taking a bite of your sandwich.
He let out a low hum, watching you with an intensity that made you feel like you were under a microscope. “You know,” he said after a moment, his tone shifting into something softer—almost teasing, “you look kinda cute like that.”
You froze mid-bite, your eyes snapping to his.
“What?” you said, your voice flat but your ears burning.
“Just saying,” he said with a shrug, his smile widening as if he knew exactly what he was doing. “You’ve got this little furrow in your brow when you’re focused. It’s cute.”
You stared at him for a moment, debating whether it was worth throwing your sandwich at his face.
“Heeseung,” you said finally, your voice low and warning.
“Yes, boss?”
“Get. Back. To. Work.”
He laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender as he stood up. “Alright, alright, I’m going. Don’t miss me too much.”
You groaned as he sauntered out of the room, leaving you alone again—but not before tossing one last wink over his shoulder.
For a moment, you just sat there, staring at the door and wondering how you’d managed to get stuck with the most annoying coworker on the planet.
You tried to push Heeseung’s antics out of your mind, refocusing on your laptop. But it wasn’t as easy as you’d hoped. Every time you typed another sentence, your mind wandered back to the way he had called you cute. The audacity of him, the nerve—he just said whatever came to mind, didn’t he? Like there were no consequences.
You shook your head, forcing yourself to focus. Heeseung was just being Heeseung—cocky, shameless, and way too full of himself. You weren’t going to let him get under your skin.
Another five minutes passed. Your essay was slowly taking shape, the sound of typing helped you settle into a groove. Finally, some peace and quiet.
But, of course, that didn’t last.
The door creaked open again, and you didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.
“Heeseung,” you said sharply, “if you’re not coming back here to tell me the cafe is on fire, I swear—”
“Relax,” he said, stepping into the room with a to-go cup in his hand. “Just thought you might need a little pick-me-up.”
You glanced up, and sure enough, there he was, holding out a cup of coffee like it was some grand peace offering.
“What is this?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.
“Coffee,” he said, completely unbothered. “I made it myself. Thought you’d want a break from whatever sad sandwich you’ve been eating.”
You looked at the cup suspiciously. “You didn’t put anything weird in it, did you?”
“Wow,” he said, clutching his chest like you’d just insulted his honor. “No faith in me at all. That hurts, boss. Really.”
You rolled your eyes but took the cup anyway, cautiously bringing it to your lips. The coffee was… actually pretty good.
“Not bad,” you admitted, trying to keep your tone neutral.
Heeseung’s face lit up like you’d just handed him a gold medal. “See? I’m a fast learner. You might be stuck with me, but at least I’m good at what I do.”
“Barely,” you muttered, but your lips twitched upward despite yourself.
He pulled out the chair across from you again, sitting down with that same cocky grin.
“Don’t you have work to do?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him.
“The front’s all clear,” he replied, leaning back in the chair. “And besides, I’d rather hang out here with you.”
You rolled your eyes, taking another sip of the coffee. “You’re strange, you know that?”
“I’ve been called worse,” he said with a wink.
You shook your head, biting back a smile as you turned back to your laptop. But even as you tried to focus, you couldn’t ignore the way he stayed there, watching you like you were the most interesting thing in the room.
“So, there’s this party on Saturday,” he suddenly said, breaking the silence that had been hanging over the room for minutes, his tone easy but clearly fishing for something.
You paused mid-motion, glancing over at him. “A party?”
“Yeah,” he said, sitting up straight now and looking at you. “It’s at my friend Jay’s place. Big house, lots of people, good music… You should come.”
You blinked, surprised. Heeseung inviting you to a party wasn’t something you’d expected, especially since you weren`t close.
For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure how to respond.
“What?” he asked with a small grin, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t like parties or something?”
“I didn’t say that,” you replied, crossing your arms. “I just wasn’t expecting you to invite me.”
“Why not?” he asked, leaning a little closer, his grin widening. “You’re cool. And besides, I figured you could use a break. You know, have some actual fun for once.”
You scoffed, about to reject him outright with a “Sorry, I’m busy,” but the words caught in your throat.
The truth was, you weren’t busy. Your weekend was looking painfully empty, and you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d gone out for something other than groceries or school. You’d been drowning in assignments and deadlines for so long that the thought of getting out, even for just one night, sounded oddly tempting.
And besides, you’d heard about Jay. The guy was rich—practically loaded—and you knew his parties were worth it. You weren’t exactly a party animal, but a night with good music, decent booze (and not the cheap stuff from corner stores), and a chance to let loose didn’t sound half bad.
You leaned over the table, pretending to think it over, and caught the way Heeseung’s eyes flickered to yours. He almost seemed… eager, like he was waiting on the edge of his seat for your answer. His gaze lingered just a second too long, and you noticed the way he leaned in slightly, like he couldn’t help himself.
Was he… entranced?
The thought made you pause for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips.
“Alright,” you said finally, sitting back in your chair. “I’ll go.”
His face lit up almost immediately, and you could tell he was trying to hide how pleased he was.
“Really?” he asked, his grin growing.
“Yeah,” you said with a shrug, trying to keep your tone casual. “Why not? I could use a night out.”
“Great,” he said, his excitement obvious. “You won’t regret it. Trust me, Jay throws the best parties. I’ll text you the details.”
“You don’t even have my number,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
“Not yet,” he said smoothly, pulling out his phone and holding it out to you with a smirk.
You rolled your eyes but took the phone anyway, typing in your number before handing it back to him.
“Don’t make me regret this,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.
He grinned as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I won’t. Promise.”
The next few days passed in a blur and as much as you hated to admit it, Heeseung was actually learning everything pretty quickly. Sure, he still made the occasional mistake—like giving someone oat milk instead of almond milk—but those moments were fewer and farther between.
You had to give him credit: when he focused, he was good at what he did. The problem was getting him to focus.
Heeseung always found ways to make things interesting. Whether it was asking too many unnecessary questions just to mess with you or deliberately trying to get a reaction out of you with his relentless teasing, he kept you on your toes. And yet, he still managed to meet all the training goals you set for him, almost like he wanted to impress you.
Finally, by the end of the week, his training was officially done. He knew how to use the register, make all the drinks, handle pastries, and even clean up without leaving a mess behind. So, when the time came to hand him his permanent nametag, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of accomplishment.
You stood behind the counter as Heeseung wiped down a table nearby.
“Hey,” you called out, catching his attention.
He turned toward you, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, boss?”
You held up the shiny new nametag with his name etched on it in neat, bold letters: Heeseung.
“Congratulations,” you said, holding it out to him. “You’re officially not the assistant anymore.”
His eyes lit up when he saw it, and for a moment, you thought he looked almost… touched?
He took the nametag from your hand and stared at it like it was some kind of trophy. Then, with no hesitation, he ripped off the old “Assistant” nametag and tossed it on the counter.
“Finally,” he said, grinning as he hooked the new nametag onto his apron. “I was getting sick of being ‘Assistant.’”
You crossed your arms, smirking. “Don’t let it go to your head. You’re still the newbie.”
He shot you a playful look. “Yeah, but now I’ve got my actual name. Feels good.”
“Don’t get too comfortable,” you teased. “You’re still not getting a promotion anytime soon.”
“Aw, come on,” he said, leaning against the counter with that familiar lazy grin. “You know I’ve been doing great. Admit it—you’re impressed.”
“I’ll admit you’ve survived training,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s about it.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re tough to please, boss. But don’t worry—I’ll win you over eventually.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the small smile tugging at your lips.
“Get back to work, Heeseung,” you said, brushing past him to restock the pastry case.
But as you moved, you caught him staring at his nametag again, his grin still firmly in place.
By the time Saturday rolled around, you stood in front of your mirror, adjusting your outfit for the third—no, fourth—time. Your hair and makeup were done perfectly, your clothes hugged you in all the right places, and yet, you found yourself staring down at Heeseung’s message with a sense of hesitation.
Heeseung: Party starts at 8. Jay’s place. Don’t be late, boss
He’d attached the address below, followed by another string of teasing texts you hadn’t bothered to reply to.
You bit your lip, the urge to second-guess yourself creeping in. What were you even doing? Parties weren’t exactly your thing—not anymore, at least. You’d spent so much time lately focused on school and work that the thought of walking into a house full of strangers felt overwhelming.
Maybe you should cancel. You could just text Heeseung, say something came up, and spend the evening curled up with your laptop and a blanket instead. He’d probably roll his eyes, call you boring, and then leave you alone.
But then again, when was the last time you let yourself actually have fun? You couldn’t even remember the last time you went out, much less to a party. And besides, Heeseung had been so weirdly persistent about you coming. You could already picture his smug little grin when he saw you show up.
You shook your head at yourself, sighing.
“Get it together,” you muttered, turning back to the mirror.
You straightened your outfit, smoothing out any wrinkles and with one last glance at Heeseung’s message, you took a deep breath and grabbed your bag.
It was just a party. You’d go, stay for a little while, maybe have a drink or two, and then leave. No big deal.
At least, that’s what you told yourself as you locked your door and headed out.
When you arrived at Jay’s house, you weren’t surprised to find it exactly as you’d expected: massive, loud, and packed with people. Music thumped through the walls, and the glow of colorful lights spilled out through the windows and onto the front lawn.
Though the moment you stepped inside Jay’s house, the sheer size of the place struck you again. You’d been to a few big houses before, but this? This was something else entirely. The ceilings were impossibly high, the decor looked like it had been ripped straight out of a magazine, and the crowd of people packed into the house made it feel like a full-blown club instead of a casual get-together.
You maneuvered through the throng of people, recognizing a few faces here and there—some classmates, some mutual friends, and plenty of people you didn’t know. A few offered you quick smiles or waves, but most were too busy dancing, drinking, or talking loudly to notice you weaving through the chaos.
You found a massive coat rack—overflowing with jackets and bags—and hung yours up carefully before stepping back into the crowd. The noise was almost overwhelming, but you quickly found your footing, asking a couple of people nearby where the kitchen was.
“Down the hall, to the left!” one guy shouted over the music, pointing in the direction.
You nodded your thanks and headed that way, weaving through more bodies until you finally reached the kitchen.
And just like you’d predicted, it was a dream come true for any broke college student.
The massive kitchen island was completely covered in bottles of alcohol—every drink you could dream of—all the expensive brands that only the rich could casually stock up on without a second thought. There were mixers, fruit garnishes, pre-made cocktails, and even a blender shoved to one side.
Your eyes scanned the island, and you couldn’t help but smirk. Jay definitely wasn’t messing around.
You made your way to the fridge, pulling it open to find even more options stacked neatly inside. After a moment of deliberation, you grabbed a cold bottle and popped the cap off with a satisfying snap.
You tossed the cap into the trash, lifting the bottle to your lips and taking a long sip. The sweet taste was like heaven, and you couldn’t help but hum in satisfaction.
“Enjoying yourself already?”
The familiar voice came from behind you, and you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
Heeseung.
Of course.
You sighed, lowering the bottle and glancing over your shoulder to see him leaning against the doorway with that same lazy grin he always wore. He looked effortlessly good, as usual, in a casual black button-up and jeans that fit him a little too well. His dark hair was slightly tousled, like he hadn’t bothered trying too hard—but somehow, that only made him look better.
“Didn’t expect to see you here already,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and strolling over to you.
“Didn’t expect you to find me so fast,” you shot back, taking another sip from your bottle.
“What can I say?” he teased, grabbing a random bottle from the island and inspecting it. “I’ve got good instincts.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother responding, instead focusing on your drink.
Heeseung unscrewed the cap of his bottle, taking a swig before leaning against the counter beside you. “So,” he started, glancing at you with a sly smile, “what do you think? Not bad, huh?”
You gestured vaguely around the kitchen. “It’s… a lot.”
He laughed. “Yeah, Jay doesn’t do anything halfway. Wait until you see the backyard. He rented a whole fire pit setup and some fancy outdoor lights. It’s insane.”
“Of course he did,” you muttered, shaking your head.
Heeseung tilted his head, watching you closely. “Not a party person, huh?”
“Not at the moment,” you admitted, taking another sip. “But… I figured I could use a break.”
Heeseung’s smile softened, just slightly. “Well, you came to the right place. Trust me, by the end of the night, you’re gonna be glad you showed up.”
“Confident, aren’t you?” you said, raising an eyebrow.
He grinned, raising his bottle in a mock toast. “Always.”
You clinked your bottle lightly against his, rolling your eyes but unable to stop the small smile that tugged at your lips.
Heeseung downed the rest of his drink, then nudged you lightly with his elbow. “Come on, boss,” he said, flashing you his trademark grin. “I gotta introduce you to the crew.”
“Your crew?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, my friends,” he clarified, already motioning for you to follow him. “Don’t worry, they’re cool. You’ll like them.”
You trailed after him through the crowded house, sidestepping groups of people until you reached a section of the living room where a group of guys stood huddled, laughing over something you couldn’t hear over the music.
“Yo!” Heeseung called out, catching their attention.
The group turned to look, and almost instantly, they greeted Heeseung with wide grins and casual fist bumps. Then their attention shifted to you, curious but friendly.
“This is my boss,” Heeseung announced, slinging an arm over your shoulder with no warning. “You know, the one who’s been making me work my ass off all week?”
You stiffened under his arm, giving him a pointed look, but he didn’t seem to care.
The group laughed, and one of them—a guy with bleached hair and an easygoing vibe—stepped forward. “Ah, so you’re the one Heeseung’s been talking about nonstop,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Sunoo. Nice to meet you.”
You hesitated for a second, then shook his hand. “Nice to meet you too.”
The rest of the group followed suit, introducing themselves as Jake, Sunghoon, and Jungwon.
As they started chatting, you found yourself relaxing a little. They were cool, just like Heeseung said. You even caught yourself laughing at a few of their jokes.
But after a while, you excused yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment to yourself. The noise and energy of the party were starting to catch up to you, and you figured a quick breather would help.
But by the time you came back, though, the group had completely disappeared.
You frowned, glancing around the living room. Nothing. No Heeseung, no Sunoo, no one you recognized. Shrugging, you decided not to overthink it. Maybe they’d moved to another part of the house.
Instead, you headed back to the kitchen, grabbing another drink from the fridge. This time, you opted for something stronger, figuring you might as well enjoy yourself while you were here.
With the bottle in hand, you made your way to the main area where most people were dancing. Leaning against the wall, you watched the crowd sway and move to the heavy beat of the music.
But then someone approached you.
“Hey,” a guy’s voice said, drawing your attention.
You turned to see a soft-looking guy with an easy smile standing next to you. His energy felt entirely different from the usual partygoers—calmer, more approachable.
“Hi,” you replied, tilting your head slightly.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, offering you his hand. “I’m Shotaro.”
You shook his hand, noting how friendly his smile was. “Nice to meet you, Shotaro. I’m—”
“—Heeseung’s boss, right?” he finished for you, grinning.
You blinked in surprise. “Uh, yeah. How did you know that?”
“Heeseung’s been talking about you,” he said casually, leaning against the wall beside you.
You felt a twinge of something you couldn’t quite place. “I see.”
“So,” Shotaro continued, taking a sip from his drink. “How’s it been, working with Heeseung? He’s not causing too much trouble, is he?”
You let out a small laugh. “Oh, he’s definitely trouble. But he’s not… terrible.”
Shotaro chuckled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “That sounds about right. Heeseung’s kind of a handful, but he’s a good guy.”
“Is that your way of warning me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not at all,” Shotaro said quickly, his tone light and playful. “Just… preparing you for what you’ve probably already figured out.”
As the conversation continued, you found yourself enjoying his company. But out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a familiar figure lingering near the edge of the room, watching.
Heeseung.
His expression was unreadable, but the way his eyes stayed locked on you made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite explain.
You tried to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that crept over you, focusing back on Shotaro’s words. He was still talking, casually, but your attention kept drifting. Your eyes flicked back to Heeseung, who hadn’t moved, still standing in the same spot with his gaze fixed on you.
There was something about the way he was looking at you—intense, but not quite… angry? Maybe it was something else entirely. You couldn’t tell. It wasn’t a look you were used to seeing from him, especially not with the easygoing vibe he’d always had around you.
You couldn’t look away. Not at first, at least.
Shotaro noticed your distraction, following your line of sight and smiling knowingly. “I think he’s waiting for you,” he said, his tone light but laced with something that you couldn’t quite place.
You blinked, tearing your gaze away from Heeseung. “What?” you asked, momentarily disoriented.
“I said,” Shotaro continued with a slight grin, “I think your friend is waiting for you.”
You could feel your cheeks warming slightly. "He’s not—"
But before you could finish, Shotaro waved a hand dismissively. “No need to explain. It’s pretty obvious.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but your thoughts were a tangled mess now, and whatever you’d planned to say evaporated when you saw Heeseung take a few steps toward you.
Shotaro noticed the change too and gave you a sly smile. “I’ll let you handle that.”
You barely had time to react before Heeseung was standing in front of you, his posture still casual but something about his energy shifted the moment he stood near you.
You swallowed, suddenly feeling a little more self-aware. “What’s up?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
Heeseung didn’t immediately answer, instead studying you for a moment as if he was trying to figure something out. His eyes flicked over to Shotaro, who had already started talking to someone else close by.
“I thought you were having fun,” Heeseung finally said, his tone softer than usual.
“I am,” you replied, a little defensively, but the way he looked at you made the words feel like they didn’t hold much weight.
He chuckled, leaning slightly closer. “You know, you don’t have to be so uptight. Relax. This is supposed to be fun, right?”
His closeness made you feel like your skin was on fire, and you took a small step back, instinctively trying to put a little more space between you. “I’m fine,” you said, forcing a smile. “Just getting a drink and talking to people.”
Heeseung’s eyes darkened, but it was subtle, like a flicker of something deeper, something that was just below the surface. You tried to ignore the sudden heat building in your chest. “I’m sure you’re having a great time,” he replied, his voice low but just loud enough to make you question if there was something more to his words.
You shifted, glancing around the room again, feeling uneasy under his intense gaze.
“So,” you began, trying to change the subject, “how’s your night going?”
Heeseung shrugged, not answering immediately. Then he flashed that signature smirk of his, though it looked a little more forced this time. “Better now that you’re sticking around.”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, half-amused and half-annoyed. "Yeah, sure."
He stepped a little closer, almost uncomfortably so. "You should stick with me tonight," he said, as if it were a casual suggestion, but there was something to his voice that made it feel like an order.
“Maybe later,” you replied, forcing yourself to stay casual even as you felt the pressure of his proximity.
But Heeseung didn’t move away. Instead, he held your gaze for a long moment. “I’ll be waiting.”
Before you could react, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there.
You stood there for a moment, trying to shake off the feeling, you made your way to the kitchen. You needed a minute, maybe something a little stronger to clear your head. The noise of the party faded as you opened the fridge, scanning the shelves for something that might do the trick.
You reached for a bottle of something dark and smooth—whiskey, you thought, perfect. The cap twisted off easily, and without hesitating, you brought the bottle to your lips, taking a deep swig. The burn was immediate, scorching your throat, but you welcomed it. The heat spread through your chest, distracting you from the confusion still swirling in your mind.
You winced slightly at the strong taste, but it didn’t bother you as much as it should have. In fact, you felt a little relieved.
With the bottle still in your hand, you moved to the counter, leaning against it as you wiped your hand across your forehead, pushing your hair back from your face.
Was Heeseung always like this? So… forward?
And why did it bother you so much?
--
You stood there in the bathroom, leaning over the sink as you splashed cold water on your face. The bitterness of the drinks still lingered in your mouth, and you couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. You rubbed your lips together, trying to rid yourself of the aftertaste, all the while trying to steady your breath. The last thing you needed was to get sick and ruin the night.
Just as you finished wiping your mouth with a tissue, you heard knocks on the door.
“Give me a minute,” you shouted, your voice a little tighter than you intended as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You were trying to compose yourself, trying to act like everything was fine, even though you were sure it wasn’t.
You grabbed your lipstick from your bag, carefully applying it to your lips. Then, before you could finish, the door suddenly swung open, and you froze.
Standing in the doorway was Heeseung, his expression unreadable as he stepped inside, blocking the exit with his body. You blinked, unable to mask your shock.
“Heeseung—”
He didn’t let you finish. Without a word, he closed and locked the door behind him, the click of the lock echoing in the small, quiet room.
Your heart raced, and you instinctively took a step back, eyes widening as you tried to process the sudden change in the atmosphere.
“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice coming out sharper than you’d intended.
Heeseung didn’t respond immediately, his eyes scanning your face as if he was taking his time to study you. The playful smile that was usually on his lips was gone, replaced by something more serious, more intense. He took a slow step toward you, and you instinctively stepped back, your back hitting the sink with a small jolt.
“You’re avoiding me,” he finally said, his tone low and steady.
“I’m not avoiding you,” you protested, though even you could tell it didn’t sound convincing.
Heeseung raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. “Then why are you not beside me?”
You swallowed, the heat of his gaze making you feel trapped in the small space. “I am—”
“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his voice soft but insistent. “I know what you’re doing.”
Your chest tightened as the distance between you grew smaller. You couldn’t help the way your body reacted to his proximity—how your breath caught in your throat, how your pulse quickened.
You opened your mouth to say something, anything to break the tension, but Heeseung cut you off. “I’ve been waiting for you to stop running from me, to give in and see,” he said, his voice smooth. “And I’m not going to let you get away tonight.”
Your heart hammered in your chest, and the world around you seemed to narrow down to just Heeseung, his gaze never leaving yours.
Your mind was racing, thoughts scattered in every direction as Heeseung closed the distance between you. His bottle was placed carelessly on the counter behind you, the sound of glass clinking against porcelain barely reaching your ears over the pounding of your heartbeat. His eyes never wavered from yours, as he leaned down, his arms caging you in against the sink.
You couldn’t help but look down at his lips. They were so close—too close—and you felt the pull toward them. Was it the alcohol clouding your thoughts? Or was it simply him?
You didn’t know. All you knew was that the bathroom suddenly felt unbearably hot.
Your mind screamed to pull away, to stop this before it went any further, but your body betrayed you. The space between you closed completely, and before you could say anything—or even fully register what was happening—Heeseung kissed you.
It was fast, surprising, and far more urgent than you expected. His lips were warm against yours, and for a split second, you froze. The kiss was deep, his hand coming to rest beside your face, his thumb brushing against your jaw. You could feel the force of his kiss, the way he was pulling you into him, and something inside you stirred.
You couldn’t think. You couldn’t focus on anything but the heat of his kiss, the way it made your heart race.
And then, just as suddenly as it had started, he pulled away slightly, his lips hovering just above yours. His eyes were hungry—more intense than you had ever seen them before.
"You don’t have to say anything," he murmured, his voice low, almost like a warning. His lips brushed against yours again, a fleeting touch that made your stomach twist. "I know what you’re thinking."
You swallowed, your mind a blur as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. But the only thing you could focus on was him.
Heeseung didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, his fingers brushed against your skin, tracing a path down your neck as he moved to kiss you again, more slowly this time, as if savoring the moment.
And despite everything inside you telling you to stop—to pull away and think—you couldn’t. You didn’t want to.
Your hands instinctively moved to his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him back, the feel of his lips against yours made everything inside you tighten. The kiss deepened, and that was when you felt him shift, his hands slipping under your thighs and lifting you effortlessly off the ground. The action caught you off guard for a moment, but you didn’t have time to process it before he set you down on the counter, careful to avoid the sink.
His body moved in between your legs, and you instinctively parted them to make room for him, while his hands slid up your sides, fingers brushing the curve of your waist.
At that moment everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. But instead of pulling away, you found yourself leaning closer to him, your hands tugging at the hem of his shirt, desperate for more contact.
There was no going back now, no hesitation.
The only thing that mattered was the way his body pressed against yours, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. You weren’t quite sure who was losing control more: him or you.
Your hands, naturally, found their way to his biceps, grasping tightly as if to anchor yourself.
Heeseung's kisses became more intense, his tongue dancing with yours, and you could feel his hands, warm and strong, as they slowly made their way under your shirt.
Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the warmth of his hands on your skin. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, a delightful sensation.
As Heeseung's hands continued their journey, his moan escaped his lips, a low sound which sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you couldn't help but grip his biceps tighter, your nails slightly digging into his skin.
Heeseung's moan turned into a growl as he felt your response. With a sudden movement, he ripped off his shirt, a few of the buttons flying in all directions.
The sight of Heeseung's bare chest took your breath away. His muscles, defined and strong, glistened with a slight sheen of sweat.
As Heeseung's shirt fell to the ground, he pulled you closer, his lips never leaving yours. His hands, now free, roamed over your back, tracing the curve of your spine, and then down to your waist, where he gently squeezed.
Heeseung's lips left yours for a moment, only to trail kisses down your neck, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin there. You let out a soft whine, your body arching into his touch, inviting him to continue.
Heeseung's hands, slowly and deliberately pulled up your shirt, gently sliding the garment off your shoulders, his eyes never leaving yours.
With a subtle smile, Heeseung slung your shirt over his shoulder, his hands, now free to explore, slipped up your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
You leaned back against the mirror, your legs parted slightly as Heeseung's hands continued their journey, their grip tightening as they reached the top of your thighs.
Your breath caught in your throat as you looked down at Heeseung, his chest, still heaving from the intensity of the kiss, rose and fell with each breath. You could feel his fingers trace the curves, his thumbs gently massaging.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I could look at you forever."
"I could say the same about you," you replied, your voice soft. "Every inch of you is perfection."
Heeseung's lips twitched into a soft smile. "Don't say that unless you mean it," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost unsure.
You tilted your head slightly, your hands looped loosely around his neck. "I do mean it," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing. "Every word."
For a moment, Heeseung didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at you as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. His grip on your waist tightened slightly.
"You have no idea what you’re doing to me," he said finally, his voice low, almost a whisper, like the words weren’t meant for anyone else but you.
Your lips parted, unsure of how to respond. But before you could say anything, he leaned in again, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that was softer this time, slower, as if he was savoring every second.
His hands slid up to cradle your face, his touch gentle, and you couldn’t help but melt into him. The way he kissed you made your head spin, every thought slipping away until all you could feel was him.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, both of you breathing heavily. "I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you," he admitted.
You breathed out shakily, leaning forward to kiss him again, unable to resist. Heeseung groaned softly against your mouth, his hands tightening around your waist as if he never wanted to let go.
But the sudden, rapid knocking on the bathroom door shattered the moment like glass. "Come on, man! Some of us need to pee!" someone shouted, their voice muffled but impatient.
You both froze, and then, as if in sync, you both pulled back with a wet sound, the abrupt loss of contact leaving you cold. You quickly slid off the sink, your legs shaky as you adjusted your balance. Heeseung stepped back to give you space, his lips slightly swollen, his hair tousled from your hands.
You grabbed your shirt from where it had been discarded and slipped it back on with trembling fingers, avoiding his gaze as your heart pounded in your chest. Heeseung, meanwhile, reached for his own shirt, pulling it on hastily as the knocking grew louder.
"You guys gonna stay in there all night?" a different voice called, followed by a round of laughter from the hallway.
Your face burned as you yanked open the door, not sparing a glance at the group of people gathered outside, their expressions ranging from amused to curious. Shouldering past them, you strode down the hallway and out into the main area of the party, your breath still uneven, your mind racing.
You didn’t stop, didn’t even turn around to see if Heeseung was following. The music felt too loud, the crowd too suffocating, and you needed air. Pushing past the groups of people dancing and talking, you made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and twisting it open with shaking hands.
Taking a long sip, you leaned against the counter, trying to calm the chaotic mess of emotions swirling inside you. What had just happened? One minute, you were at a party, trying to have a good time, and the next…
"Hey," a familiar voice said softly, and you stiffened.
Turning slowly, you saw Heeseung standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his expression unreadable. His shirt was wrinkled, his lips still slightly parted as if he’d run after you but didn’t know what to say now that he’d found you.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tentative, his dark eyes scanning your face as if trying to gauge how you were feeling.
You let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through your hair. "I… I don’t know," you admitted, your voice quieter than you expected. "I just needed a second to breathe."
Heeseung nodded, stepping further into the room but keeping a careful distance, as if he didn’t want to overwhelm you. "I’m sorry if that was… too much," he said, his voice soft, almost apologetic. "I didn’t mean to—"
"Don’t apologize," you interrupted, surprising both of you with the firmness in your tone. "It wasn’t just you, Heeseung."
Your words seemed to relax him slightly, his shoulders easing as he took another cautious step closer. "Still," he said, his lips quirking into a faint smile, "next time, maybe we pick a place with fewer interruptions."
His playful tone made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. "Next time?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.
Heeseung grinned, his confidence creeping back as he leaned closer. "Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that."
You froze for a moment, your breath catching in your throat as Heeseung stood right in front of you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him. His grin softened into something more intense as he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly under your jaw, tilting your head up so your eyes met his.
“Why so quiet now?” he teased softly, his voice dipping lower, his lips just a whisper away from yours. “You’re usually so good with comebacks.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Heeseung’s gaze flickered to your lips, and before you could think or speak, he leaned in, so close your noses brushed. “You drive me so crazy,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the thump of the music in the other room.
And before you could react, his lips were on yours again, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.
It was different this time—not hurried or rushed like before, but deliberate, as if he wanted to make you feel every second of it. His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, holding you gently but firmly as he kissed you, and your body responded almost instinctively.
Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back, your head spinning. Heeseung let out a low hum of satisfaction, the sound vibrating against your lips as he deepened the kiss, his other hand settling on your waist.
You barely registered the cool surface of the kitchen counter pressing against your lower back as he guided you gently but firmly against it, his body close enough to make you feel like you were burning up from the inside out.
When he finally pulled back, just enough to catch his breath, his lips hovered near yours, his forehead pressing lightly against yours. “See?” he whispered, his voice rough and uneven. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel this.”
Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, you didn’t trust yourself to speak, so instead, you reached up and pulled him back down into another kiss, your answer clear in the way your lips moved against his.
Heeseung chuckled softly against your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening like he didn’t want to let you go.
But somewhere in the back of your mind, a small voice reminded you where you were, what you were doing, and how very public this all was. Reluctantly, you broke the kiss, your breathing ragged as you pushed lightly against his chest.
“Heeseung,” you started, your voice shaky, “we’re in the middle of the kitchen. Anyone could walk in.”
Heeseung smirked, clearly unbothered, as he leaned down to press a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Let them,” he said, his voice low and full of mischief. “Maybe they’ll finally understand that you’re mine.”
Before you could even form a response, Heeseung’s lips crashed into yours again, more desperate this time, as though he couldn’t stand the idea of even a few seconds without kissing you. His hands cupped your face, holding you firmly in place.
Your protests—if there had been any—dissolved almost instantly, and all you could do was cling to him, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as his body pressed closer to yours.
You felt his hands slide down from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he needed to feel you, to confirm that you were there, that this wasn’t just some dream.
“Heeseung—” you tried to say, breaking the kiss briefly to catch your breath, but he didn’t let you get far.
“Don’t,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, as if he was barely holding himself together. “Just… don’t. Please.”
Before you could think, his lips were on yours again, and this time it was slower but no less intense. His hands tightened on your waist, grounding you, and you found yourself sinking further into him.
You didn’t even notice the kitchen had gone quiet until the sound of someone clearing their throat broke through the haze.
Your eyes flew open, and Heeseung reluctantly pulled back, his breathing heavy as he turned toward the source of the interruption. Standing in the doorway was Jay, a drink in his hand and an amused smirk plastered across his face.
“Should I come back later?” Jay asked, raising an eyebrow.
Your face burned with embarrassment as you quickly pushed Heeseung away, smoothing your clothes and trying to look like you hadn’t just been thoroughly kissed. Heeseung, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered.
“Not at all,” Heeseung replied smoothly, leaning casually against the counter as if nothing had happened. But the slight curve of his lips told you he was very aware of what just happened—and that he wasn’t ashamed in the slightest.
Jay chuckled, shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen. “Well, don’t let me stop you two. Just don’t break anything, yeah? I’d rather not explain that to my parents.”
You shot Jay a glare, but he just grinned and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before leaving you alone with Heeseung again.
As soon as Jay was gone, you turned to Heeseung, narrowing your eyes at him. “You really have no shame, do you?”
Heeseung just shrugged, his smirk widening. “Not when it comes to you.”
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
“Come on,” he said, reaching for your hand. “Let’s get out of here. I’m not done with you yet.”
Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you let him take your hand, curiosity and excitement bubbling in your chest as he led you out of the kitchen.
Heeseung led you up the stairs, his hand firmly wrapped around yours as he maneuvered through the crowded hallway. The music downstairs grew fainter with every step, fading away until it was just the two of you at the end of a dimly lit corridor.
He stopped in front of a door, glancing back at you with a small smile before turning the handle and pulling you inside. The room was quiet, smelling faintly of cologne and freshly washed sheets, and you barely had a moment to take it all in before Heeseung closed the door and locked it with a soft click.
When he turned back to you, his eyes were darker, filled with an intensity that made your stomach flip. He didn’t say anything as he took a step closer, and then another, until there was barely any space left between you.
“Heeseung—” you started, your voice a mix of hesitation and anticipation, but he silenced you with a kiss.
His lips were on yours in an instant, firm and unrelenting, as if he’d been holding himself back for too long and couldn’t wait any longer. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him.
You couldn’t help but respond, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as you kissed him back just as fervently. It was like he had unlocked something inside you, something that craved the way he made you feel—like you were the only thing that mattered to him.
Heeseung broke the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “I’ve wanted this… wanted you… for so long.”
His words made your heart race, and before you could even process them, his lips trailing down to your jaw and to the curve of your neck, his movements slow, like he was savoring every inch of your skin. The soft warmth of his mouth sent shivers down your spine, but it wasn’t until you felt him suck lightly at a tender spot just beneath your ear that you gasped, your fingers instinctively tangling in his hair.
Heeseung hummed in satisfaction at your reaction, the sound vibrating against your neck. His hands gripped your waist firmly, keeping you steady as his lips latched onto your skin, sucking just enough to leave a mark. You couldn’t stop the quiet moan that escaped your lips.
Your grip on his hair tightened, pulling slightly, and he groaned against your neck, the sound low and raspy. “Do that again,” he muttered, his voice husky.
You tugged again, this time more intentionally, and he responded by nipping gently at your skin before soothing the spot with his tongue. His lips trailed lower, finding another spot on your neck to mark.
“Heeseung,” you breathed out, your voice trembling as he continued his assault on your neck, leaving a trail of small, dark marks in his wake. You could feel the way his breathing grew heavier.
“Say my name again,” he murmured against your skin, his voice full of need.
You tugged on his hair once more, tilting your head back to give him better access, and whispered his name again, this time softer, more breathless.
He pulled back for a moment, his lips glistening, his eyes heavy-lidded as they met yours. His gaze dropped to the marks on your neck, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Perfect,” he muttered, brushing his thumb over one of the fresh hickeys. “Now everyone’s going to know you’re mine.”
--
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, rousing you from your sleep. You blinked groggily, taking in the unfamiliar room for a moment before the events of the previous night came rushing back to you.
Your body felt heavy, weighed down by something—or rather, someone. Turning your head slightly, you froze as you saw Heeseung sleeping behind you, his face peaceful, lips slightly parted, and his arm draped securely around your waist like he was afraid to let go even in his sleep.
Your eyes widened, and your heart started racing. Oh no. This can’t be happening.
You carefully reached down, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, and began to lift his arm off you. It was slow, nerve-wracking work, but as soon as you managed to free yourself, Heeseung let out a soft whine, shifting closer to where you’d been lying.
Panic flooded your veins as he reached out in his sleep, clearly searching for you. Without thinking, you grabbed one of the pillows on the bed and gently tucked it in your place. He relaxed immediately, his arms wrapping around the pillow as he snuggled closer to it, his breathing evening out again.
You released a quiet sigh of relief, grabbing your scattered belongings from the floor. You didn’t even bother putting the heels on, instead clutching them tightly in your hand as you made your way to the door, tiptoeing as quietly as possible.
The hallway was eerily silent compared to the chaos of last night. When you reached the staircase and descended into the main living area, the faint sound of movement caught your attention.
Jay stood near the kitchen island, tossing empty bottles into a garbage bag. He looked up when he heard you approach, a knowing grin spreading across his face. “Morning,” he greeted, his tone light and teasing. “Sneaking out?”
You hesitated, your cheeks burning as you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “I’m just… heading out,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.
Jay leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Didn’t think you’d still be here, honestly. Heeseung seemed pretty determined last night, though.”
Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you quickly waved him off. “It’s not what it looks like,” you said, although even you didn’t sound convincing.
Jay raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Right. Whatever you say.” He didn’t push any further, thankfully, instead returning to his cleaning.
You hurried toward the door, slipping out before anyone else could see you. As soon as you were outside, the crisp morning air hit your face, and you let out a shaky breath.
What the hell just happened?
--
You ignored the buzzing of your phone as Heeseung’s name lit up the screen again and again. Calls, texts, and even voice messages you refused to listen to—all of them went unanswered. You couldn’t deal with him right now, not after everything that had happened.
Luckily, it was Sunday, and you had no responsibilities to worry about. After taking a long, scalding shower to clear your head, you threw on your comfiest pajamas and climbed back into bed.
You tried to distract yourself with movies, mindlessly scrolling through streaming apps until you settled on something you’d seen a dozen times before. A large bag of chips sat open next to you, along with a collection of candy wrappers and an empty soda can. It was the perfect lazy day setup, except for one problem—you couldn’t stop thinking about him.
No matter how hard you tried to focus on the movie, your mind kept drifting back to Heeseung.
You groaned, shoving your face into a pillow in frustration. Why couldn’t you stop thinking about him? Heeseung was trouble, plain and simple. You’d known that from the start, and yet you let yourself get swept up in him anyway.
Your phone buzzed again on the nightstand, and for a moment, you considered throwing it across the room. But your curiosity got the better of you, and you reached for it, unlocking the screen to see yet another text from Heeseung.
Heeseung: I know you’re ignoring me, but can we talk? Please?
You sighed, locking your phone again and tossing it aside. You didn’t know what he wanted to say, but you weren’t ready to hear it.
Instead, you burrowed deeper into your blankets, determined to get through the rest of the day without letting him take over your thoughts again. But no matter how many movies you watched, or how much junk food you ate, the memory of him lingered like a stubborn shadow, refusing to be ignored.
So when Monday rolled around, you made it your mission to avoid Heeseung at all costs. You checked the cafe schedule first thing in the morning and made sure your shifts didn’t overlap with his, swapping one with a coworker to make sure you wouldn’t have to see him.
On campus, you were extra careful, keeping your head low and staying alert as you navigated between classes. You stuck to the edges of crowded hallways, dodging places you knew he might linger. Every time you rounded a corner, your stomach tensed, half-expecting to see him standing there, waiting for you.
It wasn’t easy. You’d catch glimpses of him now and then, whether it was through a classroom window or across the quad, but you always made sure to duck out of sight before he noticed you. You couldn’t risk talking to him—not yet.
By the time your shift at the cafe rolled around on Wednsday, you were already exhausted from the mental effort of dodging him. Walking through the door, you felt a wave of relief wash over you as you realized it was just you and a coworker, Jisoo, working the evening shift.
But the relief didn’t last long. Midway through your shift, while you were wiping down the counters, the bell above the door jingled, signaling a customer. Without looking up, you called out your usual greeting.
“Welcome! How can I can help—”
The words died in your throat when you glanced up and saw Heeseung standing there, his eyes immediately locking onto yours.
He was dressed casually, a backpack slung over one shoulder, and he looked like he hadn’t slept well. His hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his hand through it a dozen times.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but firm as he took a step closer to the counter.
You froze, your rag still in your hand, unsure of what to do. Jisoo was busy stocking pastries in the display case and didn’t seem to notice the sudden tension in the air.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but your voice came out a little shaky.
“I came to talk to you,” Heeseung replied, his tone calm but insistent. “You’ve been ignoring me, and I don’t like it.”
Your grip tightened on the rag, your mind racing for an excuse, a way out of this conversation. “I’ve been busy,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze. “School, work... you know how it is.”
Heeseung didn’t budge. “Yeah, I get it,” he said, leaning on the counter slightly. “But I also know when someone’s avoiding me.”
You glanced nervously at Jisoo, who was still oblivious, then back at Heeseung. “This isn’t the time or place for this,” you hissed under your breath.
“Then when is?” he shot back, his voice low but sharp. “Because I don’t think you’ll give me the chance if I don’t force it.”
The determination in his eyes made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. But before you could respond, Jisoo turned around, finally noticing Heeseung.
“Hey, Heeseung!” she greeted cheerfully. “You’re not working today, are you?”
“No, just stopping by,” he said smoothly, his gaze never leaving yours.
Jisoo shrugged and went back to her task, leaving you alone with him once again.
“Please,” Heeseung said softly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Just give me five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”
You huffed, feeling cornered with no way out, and agreed to his request, deciding that five minutes would be better than dealing with him here in front of Jisoo. The tension in the air thickened as you both moved to the back of the cafe. Heeseung’s presence loomed behind you, his silence heavy as he followed you through the narrow hallway.
Once the door to the backroom shut, you leaned against the counter, trying to gather your thoughts, but Heeseung didn’t give you a chance to breathe.
“Why did you leave so early that night?” His voice was steady, but you could hear the hint of frustration in it. “Why are you ignoring me now?”
You swallowed hard, pushing aside the thoughts of the night before. It was a mistake, you told yourself. A moment of weakness. You needed to stay firm.
“It was a mistake,” you finally said, your voice coming out a little softer than you meant. “One-time thing. It won’t happen again, Heeseung.”
Heeseung didn’t say anything at first, his expression unreadable. Then he took a step closer, and then another, until you were pressed up against the wall. You tried to breathe steadily, but your heart was racing now.
“Is that how you really feel?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous, eyes locked onto yours. “Do you really think it was a mistake?”
Before you could respond, he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. You flinched for just a moment, but the warmth of his touch pulled you in, and you could feel his soft exhale against your mouth.
You tried to push him back, to remind yourself of the resolve you’d spent all day building, but his hands were on you, pulling you closer, and despite everything, you felt the tension in your body break. Slowly, hesitantly, you kissed him back.
The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself losing control of your thoughts, of everything you’d promised yourself just minutes ago. It was impossible to think straight when he was this close, his hands gentle but insistent, his lips insatiable.
Heeseung broke away for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as you both panted for breath. “You don’t have to keep pretending,” he whispered, his voice rough. “I can see it in your eyes. You want this as much as I do.”
You tried to argue back, to remind yourself that this was wrong, that it couldn’t happen again, but Heeseung wasn’t giving you a chance. His lips pressed against yours in a soft kiss, silencing any protest you might have had. When he pulled away, he pecked your lips again but then his attention dropped lower.
You couldn’t help but gasp when his lips brushed against your neck, gently revealing the marks from the night before. His fingers trailed up your skin as he pressed his lips against the sensitive spot on your collarbone. You felt a rush of heat flood through you, making it harder to focus on anything other than the way he was making you feel.
His lips moved with purpose, leaving a trail of fresh hickeys on your skin, each one more darker than the last. You gripped his shirt, the fabric twisting beneath your fingers as you tried to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was slipping away.
"How could this be a mistake when it feels this good?" Heeseung murmured between each kiss, his voice husky. "You don’t have to lie to yourself. I know you want this just as much as I do."
With every word, every kiss, your resolve weakened, until you couldn’t remember why you wanted to fight this in the first place. The way he touched you, the way he made you feel alive. You wanted him, and there was no denying it anymore.
“This isn’t just a one-time thing, not for me,” he murmured as he kissed his way back up to your lips. "I’m what you need," he said quietly, his eyes locked onto yours with an almost pleading look. "I’ll give you what you need—what you’ve been craving, even if you don’t realize it yet."
You opened your mouth to argue back, to remind him that you weren’t looking for this, but your words caught in your throat as he suddenly knelt down in front of you.
You gasped, the shift in position catching you off guard. His hands moved quickly to grip your waist, his touch firm yet gentle, as he looked up at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before.
"I’m not asking for anything from you," he whispered, his voice laced with a quiet desperation. "I just want to be what you need. Please, don’t push me away. Let me give you what I know you want."
He leaned in closer, just enough to close the distance between you, but he didn’t move further. Instead, he let his head rest gently against your legs, his hands still holding you steady, waiting for your response.
His voice softened. "I’ll be patient. But please… don’t push me away again."
He was begging you, and the intensity of his words seemed to shake the very ground beneath you.
"I can be good for you," he said softly, his voice trembling slightly. "No one else will make you feel like I can. No one else understands you the way I do. I promise, I’ll treat you right, I’ll give you everything you need. Just let me."
You could feel his hands tighten ever so slightly on your waist, his desperation evident. "I’ll make you happy. I know I can."
His words were persuasive, yet you remained uncertain. Was this what you really needed? What you really wanted?
Heeseung must have seen the conflict in your eyes because he softened even more, lowering his voice as if speaking to your heart. "I’m not trying to force you into anything. I just want you to know that I care about you… more than anyone else could. Please, just trust me."
For a moment, all you could do was stand there, trying to process his words. His eyes searched yours, full of hope, waiting for you to say something, anything.
Eventually you let out a soft sigh, feeling the weight of the decision settling on your shoulders. After a moment of silence, you met Heeseung's gaze. "Alright," you murmured, your voice almost a whisper. "I’ll give you a chance."
Heeseung's eyes lit up instantly, the tension in his body melting away as a smile broke out across his face. Without warning, he stood up, his hands reaching to cup your face gently as he leaned in. His lips pressed against your forehead first, then, he kissed your cheeks, your nose, and finally, your lips. Each kiss was quick but filled with so much happiness and relief, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time.
"I’m what you need," he mumbled against your skin.
What you need.
Reblogs and comments are welcome <3
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@sumsumtingz @norucking @tunafishyfishylike @txnwvc
Wanna be in the perm taglist? Lmk <3
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ashtxrie · 6 months ago
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due 11:59 pm
— alternatively, enhypen hyungs as your typical high school crush!
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PAIR. high school! enhypen hyungs x gn!reader (rest under cut) GENRE. fluff, high school au, bullet points WORD COUNT. 1.8k total MAKNAE LINE VER.
이희승 — lee heeseung
varsity jackets, notes in lockers, late night calls, secret pining, basketball games
secretly (not so secretly) an attention seeker
he's on the varsity basketball team, so by law you're hyping him up (disguised as hyping up the whole team) before the game and now he has to win!!! (plus he made a bet with jay about the team's winning streak)
i'd think that you two are closer than acquaintances but don't know each other well enough to be close friends
you guys probably met through mutual friends groups that kind of merged????
it was junior year when he signed up for every ap class you took just to look at your face more often.
horrible move for his gpa, amazing move for his mental well-being
... that was, until his mental well-being was compromised again because his ap calc grades were... not sexy
"help like actually i don't think my coach will let me stay on the team if i fail another quiz like that 0.05% grade decrease might be the end of my career"
you start tutoring him not because you're super confident about your calc skills, but because 1) you're better than him at least 😂and 2) it's a free excuse to hang out with him after school
you guys have your first tutoring sessions over discord vc btw like LOSERS
"can you hear me okay"
"..."
"dude you're muted"
IT WAS BAD
he's got the popular guy on the outside, an absolute loser on the inside persona
like he's lowkey a romantically awkward dude
but once he got to know you a bit more from your 1 on 1 time (still on discord.) you guys got really close!
would talk shit together right before basketball matches too
"[name] make sure to start booing when the other team shows up because unfortunately i think they're actually really good"
you're really passionate about how the other schools have horrible players (regardless of stats) and love to narrate a play-by-play with heeseung after the match is over
he finally confessed to you after a whole business year (jake and riki were about to dox their private dms by then)
you guys are like those stereotypical high school movie it couples, where it seems like two gorgeous popular people fell in love
they don't need to know he's just a hopeless romantic!!
박종성 — park jongseong
blue ink, keyboard clicks, shared laughs, handwritten notes, guitar strings
you thought he was pretty intimidating at first ngl
first day of school and he has a whole pre-established friend group, somehow found a table to sit at, has an effortless air going for him
you were paired up with him for a group project in history and
god help this man is SO straightforward and to the point
"ok so i'll do this part and you can do those parts. let me know if you have questions."
insert working in SILENCE for the next hour and a half
at least you two got your work done though!
but then, as an icebreaker in the last ten minutes of class you asked:
"oh... so, uh, do you ever wonder how liquid soap was invented?"
girl wtf!
your internal thought processing was like ??? damn who said that??? before you realized it was YOU
fortunately for you, jay was not completely weirded out!
he even looked a bit interested!
VERY interested, actually!
and that's how he began google searching like crazy, pulling up a million wikipedia articles and scouring the internet to answer your question
because how did you know he was curious about that too!
he really went from 0 to 100 and wdym you thought this man was cold and stoic
he became a d1 yapper for a solid ten minutes, up until the second the bell rang
he was even subconsciously walking with you to your lunch spot, STILL talking about william sheppard and that day in 1865
when he stops and finally realizes where he is, he actually blinks a bit before asking if you had joined any lunchtime clubs
and you were like oh yeah!! i'm in guitar club
he looked at you with the biggest heart eyes at that tbh
HE WAS IN LOVE
wdym your interests were perfectly aligned???? was he in a soulmates au
fast forward three months, and he seriously thinks he's found The One
confesses to you after playing guitar!! and he wrote a handwritten letter too with a cheeky reference to that one liquid soap conversation that started it all
you never feel like you're being "too weird" when you're with him and you two can always be your candid goofy selves with each other :))
심재윤 — sim jaeyun
muji pens, fond eye rolls, sharing books, lunch dates, lattes, TI-84s
you already saw this one coming
physics lover jake, but you've deemed physics your number one opp
HOW can this man go "i love this subject so much omg" after you've just gotten your third 72% in a row?!
it's not like you weren't smart (the class average was a 55)
and it's not like you hated the subject itself
okay maybe you did
but you just thought there were so many other alternatives other than physics to fawn over as a favorite subject. like. ANY other subject
one day, you're seated next to jake in calc and he just turns to you and starts talking out of NOWHERE
he’s like wow isn’t this so interesting? calc is like a hobby of mine!!
and you’re like boy stfu??? i’m literally struggling how is this your pastime 
poor guy just wanted to make small talk and impress you with stuff he thought you were interested in… which is academics 
fast forward to that afternoon in history though, and tests are passed back
you're a certified humanities girl, so you got an 100!!! academic weapon
jake, however..... is kind of an academic shield in this case
on the midterm, he had written that the victorian era ended in 1592, and filled in everything else he didn't know with "mansa musa" because it was the only thing he retained from ap world
maybe you genuinely felt really bad for hating on him when he had struggles of his own, or maybe you felt really nice that day, or maybe you were secretly hoping to get to know him more....
either way, you don't know what came over you when you tapped on his shoulder
you missed how his eyes widened a bit when he turned around, and how he looked genuinely shocked that you were talking to him in an initiated conversation! maybe his rizz was working! (maybe it was)
"there's a method that i use to memorize terms that i could teach you, if you want"
IF HE WANTS??? he would've literally jumped with joy if the paper in front of him wasn't such a nuclear bomb to his gradebook
so that's how you suddenly started spending all your lunches sitting with jake at an empty table together
he tutors you back for physics and math too, so it's fair
and DAMN it works
suddenly you two are all-rounder academic weapons???? he has your back for STEM, you have his back for humanities
like that's literally a power couple right there.
only one problem.
you aren't a couple!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
you confess to him after one of your study sessions, by plotting a heart on the desmos graphing calculator using the equations that he taught you
it was super cute!!
he was literally the proudest and happiest man alive he teared up a bit (he would never admit it though)
and NOW you guys are the campus power couple
“babe look at this!” and he's waving at you with his 100 on the history final
he actually started jumping and hugging you (embarrassingly) when you found out you got a 94% average in physics at the end of the semester, giving you an A in the class
you were so shocked when you opened your report card that you didn't even register it until you heard jake go "YOOO OH MY GOD BABE THAT'S INSANE I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT YESSS I'M SO PROUD OF YOU"
well maybe thanks to jake the subject isn't so bad now!
박성훈 — park sunghoon
big school, comfortable silence, convenience stores, headphones, lingering gazes
the "everything kinda sucks here, except you" type of plot
sunghoon tries to stay out of the spotlight, keeping to himself with his head down, hood up, and headphones on
you're not really sure when you met him first actually, but you're both the same type of people where you're just going through the motions
you intrigued him though-- maybe it was the slightly melancholic look in your eyes? or maybe it was the way you purse your lips when you find a particularly hard question on the worksheets in class
either way, he finds himself wanting to get to know you more
funnily enough, he sees you at the convenience store after school as he walks home, and his feet start walking him in your direction
you see him first, and give him a smile and a little wave-- and sunghoon waves back without even thinking about it
that was the entire interaction that day, but sunghoon keeps replaying that part when you smiled and waved at him
why can't he stop thinking about it?
some things definitely changed too-- you start saying hi to him in the hallways at school, you turn to sunghoon to ask questions in class, and you seem to brighten up whenever you see him
you guys start to have conversations, starting with simple small talk, then moving to longer, more random dialogue where you both just say whatever comes to mind
the two of you become so close that you decide to walk to and from school together, since you found out that you only live a couple blocks away
sunghoon likes to place his headphones over your ears to show you new songs every morning, and you like to share earbuds in the afternoon to walk home together
he also starts to slip little notes about his day in your backpack before you go your separate ways in the neighborhood, signing off with a little p.s. to meet him at the park before sunset
it takes him SO long to muster up the courage to confess to you because he keeps thinking you'd say no
but when he finally does, all his fears melt away because you looked at him in such a soft way
he's actually reminded of why he fell for you in the first place
because with you, there’s no judgment from the outside world in the little bubble that you’ve created with him
it's just the two of you against the world <3
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TAGLIST : @star-sim @boyfiejay @jlheon @jwsdoll @dimplewonie @suneng @en-gelic
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yuujispinkhair · 3 months ago
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I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 06
🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna
Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (male + female receiving), cigarettes. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 12 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear
MASTERLIST
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Being fuckbuddies with Sukuna is surprisingly easy. As flustered as you sometimes get when you think about what the two of you do, all that shyness leaves you the moment you are in Sukuna's arms. The moment your clothes are off and you start touching each other, all shame is forgotten. Your sexy little arrangement opens a whole new world to you. You aren't very experienced when it comes to sex, but Sukuna is the perfect person to show you new things.
Of course, there are also people who don't see it that way. Nobara doesn't get tired of rolling her eyes at you anytime she sees you with your phone in hand, assuming you are texting Sukuna and making plans to see him.
"When I said you should maybe fuck him, I meant once! Not whatever it is, the two of you are doing now. You should be careful. Sukuna is a fuckboy. You are just another notch on his bedpost!"
"I told you, I don't want him to be my boyfriend! I am not interested in a relationship either. Sukuna is a fun pasttime. That's all. Maybe I want him to be just a notch on my bedpost, too!"
You know Nobara is just worried about you, and maybe her warnings are valid, but you refuse to listen to her. Your past experiences with relationships left you not wanting to ever fall in love again. What Sukuna offers you sounds safer. No feelings, just casual sex with the hottest guy you have ever met.
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You're in Sukuna's bed, your gaze feasting on his gorgeous body. A body he works hard for in the gym every single day. Firm muscles and sexy tattoos. And you are allowed to touch this beautiful body as much as you like.
You trail kisses down Sukuna's broad chest, following his tattoos with your tongue, and his large hand tangles in your hair, rewarding you with his sexy low moans and whispered encouragements in his sexy, velvety voice. You slow down when you are insecure about your skills in the bedroom, but Sukuna is surprisingly patient with you. Sweet even.
There is no pressure, no shame. You start to suck his cock tentatively, smiling sheepishly at him, apologizing for being bad at blow jobs, and instead of getting mad at you, Sukuna cups your cheek and caresses it with his thumb while he grins at you,
"You're doing great, princess, and I can teach you the rest."
And suddenly, it's easy. Sukuna smirks at you and places a large hand on the back of your head, petting your hair while he guides you gently up and down his thick cock, telling you what to do, teaching you how to blow him right. Reassuring you that it feels good when you just French kiss his cock and use your hand for the part you cannot fit in your mouth.
Sukuna is a good teacher, making you feel like you are doing a good job because of the sexy praise his low, raspy voice whispers to you,
"Fuck yeah, just like that, princess. Just make out with my cock. You're doing so good. So sweet for me."
You moan around Sukuna's thick cockhead, feeling your own arousal coat the insides of your thighs, so turned on from what you are doing to Sukuna. It makes you suck even more devotedly on Sukuna's fat cock, licking the throbbing vein on the underside and suckling sweetly on his mushroom tip.
You feel him twitch in your mouth, and for a second, you worry if you will be able to swallow his cum without coughing, but then Sukuna's heavy-lidded maroon gaze meets yours, and a lazy smirk lifts his lips,
"I wanna cum on your face. Be a good girl for me, and just lick my tip until I bust all over your pretty face."
You moan and do as Sukuna says, kissing his tip and licking it, flicking your tongue against it in little kitten licks as if you are licking up milk from a bowl, all the while keeping eye contact with Sukuna. Shameless and naughty, feeling so turned on that you think you may cum too just from making Sukuna cum with your mouth.
And he does cum so beautifully for you. His tattooed thighs tense up, and his cock twitches as a low growl falls from Sukuna's lips. You moan when his swollen mushroom head shoots hot thick ropes of cum all over your face. And Sukuna licks his lips when he looks at you with that sexy, fucked-out expression on his beautiful tattooed face, his gaze following his cum that drips down your chin.
"You did so good. So sweet to me and my dick. Come here, princess."
Sukuna pulls you up into his arms, grinning as he cups your chin with one large hand and then his mouth opens, and he licks a stripe up your cheek, licking his own cum off your face, making your pussy clench around nothing.
You moan, your hands caressing Sukuna's broad chest, digging your nails into his buff pecs as he licks you clean. It is so obscene, so naughty, so fucking sexy. So different from everything you experienced before him. It's you who captures Sukuna's lips in a kiss, craving more, craving his taste. And Sukuna grins against your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth, feeding you his cum, letting you lick it off his tongue.
It's a feverish, sloppy kiss, tasting like sex, and it makes your head spin and moan loudly against Sukuna's lips. You press needily against Sukuna's broad figure, trying to climb on him, throwing one leg over his waist, rubbing your wet needy clit against his abs.
He grins against your lips, pulling away only to wrap his hands around your waist and pull you closer to him, closer to his beautiful tattooed face. You gasp softly when you realize what Sukuna is about to do.
"Don't be shy, princess, just sit on my face. It's your turn now."
You moan breathlessly when Sukuna's strong hands pull you on his face, making your naked dripping-wet pussy brush against his warm mouth, sending sparks of desire through your whole body. You whimper, body shaking from the strain of keeping yourself upright, but Sukuna makes a disapproving noise,
"Come on, sit on me for real. I can take it, princess. Sit."
And he grabs your hips tightly, pulling you down, his lips instantly closing around your swollen clit and sucking on it, making a desperate horny cry tumble from your lips as the pleasure shoots through you.
Even if you still wanted to stay upright, you couldn't do it anymore. You are boneless in Sukuna's grip, lost in pleasure, letting Sukuna take care of you, letting him pamper your pussy with his soft, warm mouth.
You rest your whole weight on him, thighs spreading even further, shamelessly and needy, bucking your hips and rubbing your wet pussy eagerly against his hot lips and velvety tongue, crying out in pleasure when Sukuna's tongue pushes into you, fucking you slowly while his long fingers knead your ass and keep you in place right there on his beautiful tattooed face.
He eats you out until you are a trembling, sobbing mess, crying out anytime Sukuna's soft lips suckle on your clit or when he fucks you with those slow teasing flicks of his tongue.
You feel the pressure inside you build, the knot in your belly so close to snapping, and you tense up, trying to get away from Sukuna's mouth because the pleasure is too much, and you are scared of losing control. But Sukuna's strong hands hold you in place, pulling you back down.
"Just let go for me, princess. I came on your face. Now it's your turn. Make a mess on me."
Sukuna's lips close around your puffy clit again, and you mewl loudly. It's the combination of his words and the way his lips make out with your clit that sends you over the edge.
You cry out his name, your hips bucking wildly as you cum on Sukuna's face, hard and wild and very wet. Your juices drip from his lips even as he keeps eating you, making you cry and scream and bang your fists against the wall behind his bed right beneath the Tigers flag hanging there, while you cum and cum and cum until you feel dizzy.
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You feel light-headed when you finally manage to get up from Sukuna's bed. It still feels surreal to see the resident hockey star walking around naked in his room, picking up your clothes from his bedroom floor and placing them on the bed for you. But it's not as awkward anymore. It's almost nice. Sukuna talks casually about the away game the Tigers will play this weekend, and you nod and make some agreeing noises from time to time while you get dressed next to him.
You leave Sukuna's room, making a joking comment about the chaos Yuuji once again left in the living area, and Sukuna asks you if you will meet for lunch tomorrow. You nod and grab your jacket from the back of the couch, about to say good night to Sukuna when the apartment door swings open, banging loudly into the wall, making you jump.
Yuuji and Todo march inside, loud and excited, swinging baseball bats in their strong arms, and Yuuji announces loudly,
"Yo we got the bats, Kuna! Megumi just wants us to bring them back before morning. Let's go!"
His eyes land on you standing next to his brother, and he smiles sheepishly, but his voice still holds the same excitement when he greets you. Todo bumps into Yuuji, making him stumble further into the room, and Todo's gaze wanders from you to Sukuna and back again, fixing you with a scrutinizing gaze as if he is trying to figure something out.
You smile a bit awkwardly at the two hockey players, but Yuuji has already proceeded with his agenda. He throws a baseball bat at Sukuna, who catches it with one hand, twirling it around his long tattooed fingers. A broad, devilish smirk spreads over his face, and you get a tingly feeling in your stomach.
"Good job. Let's teach them not to fuck with Curses."
You look at him in alarm. At the mad grin on his tattooed face and the baseball bat, he's slinging over his broad shoulder.
"Um, what is this about?"
Yuuji and Todo both start talking at the same time, but you can make out the words,
"Rival team." "Revenge" and "Tonight."
Your eyes widen, and you stare in dawning horror at the baseball bat that's now resting on Sukuna's shoulder. Sukuna catches your gaze, and he throws his head back, laughing loudly,
"Your face, princess! Don't worry, we aren't going to kill someone. We will just smash that stupid ice sculpture they have. They deserve it after the shit they pulled on us."
"B... but where is that sculpture, and aren't you going to get into trouble for smashing it?"
Sukuna raises an eyebrow at you, his smirk growing broader, clearly enjoying himself.
"It's in their arena, of course. We'll pick the lock, get in, and smash that ugly-ass bear. It's no big deal. It's just a revenge prank."
You stare at him incredulously,
"That's burglary and property damage!"
But Sukuna just grins even more, looking like the damn Cheshire Cat with that dirty, smug smirk on his beautiful face. His voice drops to a teasing drawl,
"Aww, are you worried about me getting into trouble? You're so cute, princess. But this is hockey code. We will just teach them a lesson."
He twirls the baseball bat elegantly around his long fingers as his gaze snaps to his linemates.
"Alright, Curses. Let's go. Let's fuck them up. I want to make those losers cry."
He looks far too happy about what they plan to do. As if it isn't a completely reckless and dumb idea! Your heart is beating up to your throat as you give Sukuna a stern look,
"This is fucking stupid! You can't do that!"
Sukuna cocks his head, raising an eyebrow,
"Well, watch me, princess."
He puts a large hand on your shoulder and steers you out the door even while you complain loudly. But he just smirks while you try to reason with him all the way down the staircase.
You exit the dorm, and Sukuna leads your little group to his car. Yuuji and Todo climb into the back, all excited chatter and broad grins, the baseball bats firmly in their large hands. And you huff and put your hands on your hips, stepping between Sukuna and the car, not caring how ridiculously you must look, so much shorter and smaller than the huge, strong hockey player with the bad boy look and the face tattoos. You tilt your head back to glare up at his tattooed face,
"Stop it, Sukuna. This is so fucking dumb! I don't understand why Fushiguro, of all people, would support something like that!"
Sukuna laughs softly, shaking his head and smirking at you,
"Good thing Fushiguro has a weakness for my brother. I bet it only took one smile and a whiny "Megumiiii" from Yuuji, and our baseball star handed him the key to the Wolves' equipment rack. But now tell me, why do you care so much, huh princess?"
His smirk is so smug that you feel like shaking him, but you just sigh and glare at him,
"Yeah, okay, I admit it! I don't want you to get into trouble! Are you happy now?"
The look that spreads over Sukuna's face is far too pleased. He steps closer to you, tall, muscular body towering over you while he grins at you,
"Very happy. But as I said, I won't get into trouble. Now get out of the way, princess, and let me take my revenge. They started it by cutting the shoelaces on our skates."
You roll your eyes,
"They cut your shoelaces? And now you go and break in and destroy their expensive ice sculpture mascot or whatever it is? Don't you think that's a bit much?"
"Well, I always avenge things threefold. How would they learn their place otherwise? Noone fucks with me or my team."
And with that said, Sukuna puts his hands on your waist and just lifts you up, and places you down a few steps away from his car, slipping past you before you can do anything. You complain loudly, but Sukuna is already lounging in the driver's seat with that boyish smirk, winking provocatively at you with a "Good night, princess."
You don't know what has gotten into you, but you react impulsively and jog around the car, yanking open the passenger door and plopping down on the passenger seat, and this time, it is Sukuna who can't do anything to prevent it.
His gaze snaps to you, and you grin victoriously at him, almost laughing at the thunderstruck expression on Sukuna's tattooed face.
"What are you doing, princess? Get out of my car."
You cross your arms in front of your chest, shaking your head, grinning smugly at him.
"Forget it. I am not getting out of this car. If you want to go to your little illegal prank, you have to take me with you!"
Sukuna looks at you for a long moment, and then his lips twitch as if he is trying hard to hold back laughter. Your tummy does a flip at the mischievous expression on Sukuna's face, slowly realizing that maybe what you did wasn't the smartest thing either. Maybe you shouldn't have picked a dance with the devil.
But it's too late. Sukuna smirks at you, the tip of his tongue playing with the pointy tip of one of his canines, a devilish, excited sparkle filling his maroon eyes,
"Okay, have it your way, brat."
And with that, Sukuna starts his car, flooring the gas pedal immediately, making you squeal loudly when you get pressed into your seat. Loud music blares from the car audio, and in the backseat, Yuuji and Todo chime a Tigers cheer, pumping each other up as if they are about to get on the ice, only contributing even more to the adrenaline-inducing atmosphere in the car.
You scramble to grab your seat belt and fasten it with sweaty fingers while you hear Sukuna's loud laughter. You wrap your hand around the grab handle, staring wide-eyed at the nightly street before you. Sukuna drives fast and recklessly, and to your horror, you see him take his hands off the steering wheel, steering with one knee so he can light a cigarette while driving.
"Sukuna!"
He smirks but puts a large hand lazily on the steering wheel, slowly drumming his fingers on it,
"Relax, princess. I am not going to crash my car and kill us all. I know what I am doing."
You roll your eyes at him when he turns his head to grin at you.
"You are such an idiot, Sukuna. I am going to kill you if this lands us in jail or in the ditch!"
But Sukuna just smirks even more broadly and brings his cigarette to his lips to take a deep drag and then blow the smoke in your face. But you have the feeling that the car isn't driving as fast anymore.
You sigh dramatically and hug yourself, snuggling into the car seat, watching the dark road ahead, refusing to look at Sukuna. Your lips twitch when you hear Yuuji and Todo sing along to the song playing on the stereo, one doing pretty well, the other hitting not a single note.
And after a while, your gaze strays again to the boy next to you.
Sukuna's long tattooed fingers, with the accurately applied black nail polish, tap the steering wheel in sync with the beat of the music. His other hand is resting on the open car window. Occasionally, he brings it to his lips to take a slow drag from his half-smoked cigarette. His lips move silently to the lyrics of the songs, his eyes trained on the road before him.
You have to admit that after the initial panic, you now feel pretty safe and relaxed here in Sukuna's car. He is actually a good driver, even though you will never tell him. And he looks very cool driving a car, so calm and confident, making your gaze stay glued to him. To his beautiful side profile with the angular jaw and the filigree tattoos, and those sultry lips wrapping so attractively around his cigarette.
You catch yourself almost enjoying the car drive, breathing in the cool night air and Sukuna's cigarette smoke, letting both calm you down.
But the relative calm is gone the moment Sukuna parks the car on the side of the road near the Bears' hockey arena. Your pulse is racing again, adrenaline filling your veins.
Sukuna turns to his linemates with a jerk of his chin.
"Okay, get your baseball bats and then smash that fucking thing!"
His maroon gaze lands on you,
"Slip into the driver's seat, princess."
You blink at him, caught off guard,
"What?"
"You'll be our getaway driver. The moment you see us coming back, you start the car."
He says it nonchalantly as if it is the most natural thing to demand.
"What the fuck, Sukuna?"
"You said you don't want us to get into trouble. So this is how you can help us avoid trouble. You will get our asses out of here, princess."
He flashes you one of his most charming grins and then exits the car, leaving you sitting there with your mouth opening and closing. But Sukuna points adamantly to the now vacant driver's seat.
You sigh exasperatedly, rolling your eyes, but you have to admit that Sukuna has a point. The last thing you want is to get caught because the boys take too long to start the car after returning from their stupid prank.
And so you take a deep breath and do as Sukuna says and climb into the driver's seat, squealing when you lose balance because Sukuna is so much taller than you, and his seat is practically in the back of the car, making you ask yourself how Yuuji even had space in the back. You curse and grab the steering wheel, pulling yourself and the seat further to the front so you can reach the gas pedal, while Sukuna watches you with a far too amused expression on his face.
You finally sit properly in the driver's seat, giving Sukuna a glare and a thumbs up, and he smirks at you,
"That's my lucky charm, helping me even on hockey duties outside the rink."
"Just go, and please try not to get caught!"
You watch the three hockey players jog toward their rivals' arena. All three of them are dressed completely in black with the hoods of their sweaters pulled up, their tall, broad figures blending with the darkness around them. They really look like a bunch of criminals with their baseball bats in their hands.
Fuck, how did I get myself into this?
You sigh and let your head fall back against the headrest of the car seat, breathing deeply in and out in an attempt to calm your nerves. The car smells like cigarette smoke and Sukuna's cologne, which is not really helping you calm down but instead makes your stomach flutter even more.
You nervously pick on your nails as you let your restless gaze wander through Sukuna's car. Black leather seats, which are worn but clean. An empty energy drink sits in the middle console next to a cigarette pack. Some protein bars peek out of the door pockets. Your gaze lands on the rearview mirror, and you spot a scented Hello Kitty head dangling from it. You stare at the cat's face for several long seconds, and suddenly, your lips twitch, and you giggle, pressing a hand over your mouth, unable to stop anymore.
Your nerves are on high alert the whole time while you wait in the car, your heart jumping to your throat anytime you hear the slightest noise while the occasional hysterical giggle escapes your mouth.
The minutes seem like hours as you nervously watch the darkness before you. And then you finally spot a movement in the darkness. You gasp and sit up straight, your hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as you squint your eyes.
Three tall, broad figures appear, running like madmen. You scramble to turn the key in the ignition, breath coming out in excited little huffs as the engine starts with a low hum right when the three boys reach the car.
They yank open the car doors, laughing and yelling. Yuuji and Todo pile into the back while Sukuna sprints around the car and lets himself fall onto the passenger seat, a wild grin on his tattooed face, eyes brimming with the same expression he has after scoring a goal,
"Drive, princess!"
He doesn't have to tell you twice. You press your foot down on the gas pedal, speeding down the road, eager to get away from the crime scene as fast as possible.
The music blares out of the speakers again, and the boys hoot with laughter and high-five each other, turning the car into some after-game celebration party, chaotic and loud, and your veins sing with adrenaline, making you drive even faster, and you can't help but feel a small grin tug at your lips.
You drive through the town, feeling like everyone must know that you have three players from the rival team in the car, and they just wrecked the local hockey team's ice sculpture.
You stop at a red light, heart pumping wildly in your chest, giving the woman in the car next to you a nervous little smile as she looks over at the black car with the loud music and the hockey boys, but your attention gets stolen by the pink-haired boy next to you.
Sukuna's large hand grabs your chin, making you turn your head to him, and he grins broadly at you, eyes sparkling with excitement and pride, and he leans closer, licking the side of your face, making you screech loudly. He laughs against your skin before he presses a loud smacking kiss on your cheek, which makes Yuuji and Todo in the back cheer and whistle loudly.
Sukuna pulls away again, laughing that sexy low laugh,
"Great job, partner in crime."
And finally, you can't hold back anymore and burst out laughing loudly, shaking your head and rolling your eyes,
"You are fucking crazy, Sukuna. All of you are crazy!"
And Sukuna smirks and cocks his head,
"But you like it."
The traffic light turns green at that moment, and you start driving again, finally feeling at ease. You can't help but grin broadly and turn the music up louder as you cruise through the town with a car full of hockey players. You have no idea when your hand ended up on Sukuna's thigh, but it stays there almost the whole drive back to campus.
Once you are back on your campus and have parked the car in front of Sukuna's dorm, the four of you get out of the car, and Yuuji and Todo give you high-fives and big grins. Todo nods appreciatively at you,
"You are a first-class getaway driver! I had my doubts about you when I saw you earlier, but my man Sukuna has shown me today that he has top-tier taste in women!"
You blink at Todo, not really knowing how to react, and end up just laughing and clapping his burly back before Yuuji grins at you and pulls you in a quick half-hug,
"That was amazing! Thank you for getting us away from there! Do you know that Sukuna usually never lets anyone drive his car? He punched me once when I took it to drive to the cinema."
"Yeah, because I know that you are a horrible driver."
Sukuna gives his twin a light smack on the back of his head, and you laugh, feeling bubbly from all the adrenaline still flowing through your veins. You can't stop the big smile from spreading over your face when you look at Sukuna. He watches you with his cat-like eyes, a lazy smirk on his tattooed face, looking far too pleased, but you can't be mad at him. Not when you feel so light-headed from your little adventure.
Yuuji and Todo bid their good nights, quickly leaving to return the baseball bats before someone notices they are missing. And you smile at Sukuna and tell him that you will walk back to your dorm now, too. Sukuna takes a step closer to you.
"I'll walk you home, princess. There are too many bad boys on the street at this time of night."
"You mean, like you?"
He just grins and falls in step beside you. You don't say it, but it tugs strangely at your heart that Sukuna refuses to let you walk alone at this hour of the night.
Sukuna lights a cigarette and then reaches out to put a strong arm around your shoulder and pull you against his side, making you smile and lean against him.
He teases you the whole way to your dorm about how worried you were and how your face had looked so stern and shocked when you tried to stop them from their plan. And you complain playfully about it, telling Sukuna that he and his linemates need a watchdog or some restraints to keep them out of trouble.
You finally stop in front of your dorm, and you pull away from Sukuna, letting his arm slowly glide down your shoulder. You instantly feel cold when Sukuna's warmth is gone, making you wrap your arms around yourself, but it isn't the same.
Sukuna grins at you while his cigarette dangles from the corner of his lips. And then he reaches out to put a large hand on your hair and ruffle it, maroon eyes sparkling teasingly in the light of the streetlamp, just waiting for the loud squeal of complaint he knows will come.
His large hand is still in your hair, but it cups the back of your head now, keeping you in place as Sukuna leans down. And then you feel his lips press a kiss to your forehead. A gesture that makes your eyelashes flutter because it's so uncharacteristically tender for a guy like Sukuna.
But the moment is over before you can really grasp it, and Sukuna pulls away, flashing you another boyish smirk before he turns around to walk back to his dorm. A tall, broad figure clad entirely in black with pastel pink hair and a little cloud of cigarette smoke billowing behind him.
And you stare after him with a wildly pounding heart, thinking that you haven't felt this alive in a long time.
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It's Saturday evening, and you are bored, slowly sipping the drink in your hand while trying to pretend you are listening to the conversation going on in front of you. If things had gone your way, you would be in bed now, snuggled comfortably into Sukuna's soft, white hoodie, reading a book or watching a show. But Nobara was very adamant about going to this party in Maki's dorm.
"I am not walking in there on my own like some loser! You will come with me!"
And then she added, with a sneaky little grin,
"I heard that the hockey team will come too after they return from their away game."
You sighed and complained, but in the end, you played along and let Nobara drag you here.
But now you regret it. You aren't in a party mood tonight, and you don't know anyone except Nobara and Maki, who are busy making heart eyes at each other, making you feel like the third wheel.
A commotion at the door makes you turn your head, and you see several hockey players entering the apartment, getting high fives and claps on their backs for their win today. You can't help but crane your neck, waiting for pink hair and a smug smirk. But Sukuna is nowhere to be seen.
Your shoulders slump. You don't even know why you feel disappointed that he isn't here yet or maybe won't come at all. But somehow, the thought of having him here and being able to joke around with him had, for a second, been able to lift your mood. Maybe this boring party would have been enjoyable with Sukuna by your side.
You are about to leave for the kitchen to get another drink when your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, grinning when you see the text message.
Sukuna 🏒👑: Are you at the party, princess?
You: Yeah, I am here. Are you coming, too?
Sukuna 🏒👑: I'm already here.
You: I didn't see you. Where are you?
Sukuna 🏒👑: Come find me ;)
You chuckle softly to yourself as you lift your head to scan the room again. You excuse yourself from Nobara and Maki, deciding to wander around a bit and look for Sukuna.
Suddenly, the party doesn't seem so bad anymore. Your steps feel lighter, and you smile at the strangers you walk past. Your little tour through the apartment isn't successful, though. It's a mystery to you how a big guy like Sukuna is able to hide from you in this relatively small apartment. But then your gaze lands on the door that leads to the backyard.
Cold night air blows in your face as you stroll into the dimly lit backyard. And finally, you spot the pink hair you were looking for. Sukuna is leaning against a tree, a cigarette between his lips, smoking and looking bored.
You can't help but smile as you hurry over to him.
"Hey! What are you doing out here on your own?"
Sukuna huffs and rolls his pretty eyes,
"It's a boring ass party, plus I can't stand most people in there."
You raise an eyebrow at him, and his smirk grows bigger as he ruffles your hair and adds,
"With the exception of you, of course."
You laugh softly and shake his large hand off, smoothing down your hair as you look up at Sukuna's tattooed face and ask him,
"How was your game?"
"We won. Showed those fucking Bears what hockey is."
"Congrats! But how did they react to their smashed ice sculpture?"
You can't keep the slight worry out of your voice, but Sukuna laughs, eyes sparkling with amusement,
"They held a memorial event for it before the game started."
You chuckle, too.
"Do they know you guys did it?"
Sukuna shrugs, his smirk widening,
"I sure hope so. I would be insulted if they didn't."
He takes a deep drag from his cigarette, tilting back his head and slowly blowing the smoke out as he looks up at the night sky.
He looks beautiful, even though he has such an intimidating appearance with his face tattoos and his tall, broad figure.
Tonight, Sukuna isn't breaking into his rival team's hockey arena, but he still looks like someone who is up to no good with all his tattoos and his all-black clothes, a tight black t-shirt that shows off his firm pecs, and impressive biceps, and black cargo pants combined with combat boots. He looks like someone who would usually make you switch street sides if you saw him walking towards you at night.
But you know Sukuna now. You know that he is actually pretty nice if he wants to be. It's fun to be around him, and sometimes even peaceful, like tonight. Sukuna is definitely the only one you want to have by your side at this stupid party.
As if he heard your thoughts, Sukuna's gaze lazily wanders over your face, and he smirks softly.
"I'm not in the mood for that shitty party. Wanna leave?"
You answer him with a broad smile and a nod,
"Okay, let's go."
Sukuna flicks his half-smoked cigarette into the grass and jerks his head towards the fence behind him,
"We'll take that way, princess. Don't wanna run into my teammates."
And before you can point out that you are too unathletic and not tall enough to believe in your fence-climbing skills, Sukuna has already grabbed your hand and pulled you along.
Sukuna's hand is warm and strong and so much bigger than yours. Your pussy involuntarily clenches at the feel, making you silently curse yourself for having such a strong reaction to Sukuna's touch. But you don't have time to think about it because Sukuna's large hands are suddenly on your hips, lifting you off the ground as if you weigh nothing, just sending more flutters through your pussy and stomach.
He helps you climb over the fence and follows you a second later, climbing gracefully over it and landing safely on his feet on the other side as if it were nothing.
He jerks his chin in the direction of the main street.
"Let's get some coffee. I'm tired as fuck after the game."
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You sit across from Sukuna, slowly stirring your coffee, snickering at the locker room gossip he shares with you. He shows you videos on his phone, barking with laughter when he presents to you The Bears reacting to their smashed ice sculpture.
You're the only guests in the small coffee shop on campus at this hour of the night. The lights are dimmed, and the barista has disappeared into the back of the shop. It's a peaceful, solemn atmosphere as if you and Sukuna have entered a parallel universe in which only the two of you exist.
And somehow, Sukuna seems different tonight, too. Softer. His playful smirk has softened into a genuine smile, and there's this unguarded, almost affectionate look in his eyes. Something you only caught glimpses of when he looks at his brother. But tonight, you get to see this look on Sukuna's face, too.
It makes you feel like you are invited to something special, where the Ice King lets his mask slip and allows a glance at the boy beneath the rough and arrogant attitude.
And suddenly, it hits you. Sukuna is your friend.
He allows you at his table in the dining hall and escapes from boring parties with you to sip coffee in the middle of the night. He lets you drive his car and allows you in his room and somehow decided he enjoys spending time with you, not just for sex, but for mundane things like having lunch together, or drinking coffee at midnight, or watching videos on his phone.
Sukuna let you in.
A smile spreads over your face, and you reach out to touch Sukuna's arm. Your touch is gentle, your fingers lightly tracing the tattoos on his wrist. Sukuna cocks his head, looking curiously at you, but he doesn't comment on it and just shows you the next video of his game against The Bears.
The two of you leave the coffeeshop together a while later, and Sukuna elbows you gently,
"Wanna come over to my place? I haven't gotten my victory fuck yet."
And you laugh and hit his tattooed biceps playfully, even as you agree with a soft nod and a big grin before you loop your arm around Sukuna's and lean onto him while you walk back to his dorm.
You spend the next thirty minutes under Sukuna, getting railed into his bed, your fingernails leaving scratches on his muscular back, while he pounds into you with those delicious, hard, deep thrusts.
He rolls off you afterward but doesn't get up, and neither do you. You just stay there lying next to each other, your shoulders touching, watching more videos on Sukuna's phone.
Until your phone beeps and you see a message from Nobara,
"Where are you?"
"Don't worry, I am okay. I left the party. Sorry, forgot to text you."
"It's okay, but you didn't answer the question? Where are you? Omg, wait, are you with the curse?"
You laugh, and Sukuna raises an eyebrow. You show him the text, and he huffs, a large tattooed hand darting out to quickly grab the phone out of your hand. Before you can even react, Sukuna has already typed a reply:
"She's in his bed, actually."
You scream and try to pluck your phone from Sukuna's large hand, wrestling with him for it on his bed until you end up in his lap, straddling him, both of you laughing breathlessly.
Sukuna grins up at you and lets the phone drop onto his pillow and instead grabs your hips with both hands, flipping you over on your back, making you squeal and giggle while his lips trail kisses down your neck, and your hands tangle in his soft, pink hair. He pushes your legs apart, lowering his tall, buff body on yours, his half-hard cock rubbing against your tummy, and your body instantly reacts to him too. Your legs wrap around Sukuna's hips, pulling him closer, your hips lifting, welcoming his hardening cock between your wet pussy lips, telling him wordlessly to take you a second time.
Yes, Sukuna is your friend. Your friend, who also gives you damn good dick.
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PLEASE, THEY ARE SO SWEET 😭😭
I wanted to show the friendship aspect of the whole fuckbuddies thing in this chapter, and I hope you liked it! I am a sucker for friends to lovers, and I am screaming into my hand when I imagine Sukuna letting Reader in and letting her see behind his mask!!
I want to say thank you to all of you who read this story and leave sweet feedback in the comments and tags or send me nice asks! I realized once again this week that writing a multi-chapter fic is super stressful BUT also so beautiful because I can experience this whole process with all of you 💗 It's such a nice feeling that we are experiencing this story and the developing romance together. THANK YOU SO MUCH!! This is really what fandom is about for me.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.
If you commented on the masterpost, I will add you to the taglist, btw. I will reblog the story several times with the different taglists. Thank you so much for being invested in this fic 💗
In Chapter 7 Reader will get a private ice skating lesson with Hockey Player!Sukuna.
822 notes · View notes
aliyahwritings · 23 days ago
Text
THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (11)
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MASTERLIST | Basketball Player!Rafe & Supermodel!Female Reader
Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.
Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.
Word Count: 4.4k
Aliyah's Notes: LIFE IS GOOD DONT KYS GUYS!!!!!
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The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing Rafe’s penthouse in all its cold, modern glory. You stepped inside, arms full of a precariously stacked pile of boxes, your eyes scanning the pristine place. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of the city, but it was the sterile, minimalist decor that always caught you by surprise.
“Wow,” you muttered, setting the boxes down with a grunt. “So this is where personality comes to die.”
Rafe appeared behind you, carrying a single suitcase and looking annoyingly relaxed (and sexy). “You’re welcome for letting you upgrade your life,” he quipped, tossing the suitcase onto the sleek leather couch. “From your childish apartment to the lap of luxury. I’m a real hero.”
“Hero, my ass,” you turned to him, hands on your hips. “And this place has all the warmth of a dentist’s office.”
He grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Clean, sharp, and no clutter.”
“Well, get ready for that to change,” you shot back, heading to another box. You pulled out a bright orange vase with swirling patterns and held it up with a triumphant smile. “Because this is going front and center.”
He froze mid-step, staring at the vase like it was radioactive. “No.”
“Yes,” you replied, your smile widening as you marched toward the nearest shelf.
“No,” he repeated, moving to block your path. “You’re not seriously bringing that ugly vase into my penthouse. I have standards.”
You held the vase above your head, as if presenting it to the decor gods. “Typical white man behavior,” you declared. “This must be the colonizer in you that’s stopping me from doing what I want—”
“I knew you’d start saying those things,” Rafe shook his head.
“Just because it’s colorful and unique, it’s ‘ugly’ to you.”
He crossed his arms as he looked between you and the vase. “It’s not colorful, YN, it’s an eyesore. It doesn’t ‘pop’—it assaults.”
“You wouldn’t know real art if it hit you in the face,” you retorted, setting the vase down triumphantly on a shelf. “This is staying.”
“It’s not art—it’s a cry for help,” Rafe muttered, shaking his head as he reached for the vase.
You smacked his hand away. “Touch it, and I’ll bring all of my colorful vases here.”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”
You leaned in with a devilish grin. “Try me.”
The standoff had been interrupted by a loud thud as another box had toppled from the stack you had brought in. Rafe turned to survey the mess, raising an eyebrow. “What else did you bring? Your collection of weird cat figurines?”
“I’ll have you know Lady Purrsalot is a legend,” you said, brushing past him to rescue the fallen box. “And yes, she’s staying too.”
Rafe let out a dramatic groan, running a hand through his hair as he surveyed the pile of your belongings filling the space. “Perfect. My penthouse is about to turn into a shrine to bad taste,” he muttered.
You shot him an incredulous look, hands on your hips, before flashing him a playful but smug smile. “This isn’t bad taste, it’s cute.”
“If I find anything glittery, it’s going straight in the trash.”
Your eyes narrowed, giving him the full force of your best glare. He winced, immediately muttering a sheepish “sorry,” his hands up in surrender. You gave him a satisfied nod, knowing he'd learned his lesson.
“You agreed to this when you accepted to marry me,” you said, your voice smooth but laced with a challenge. You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow as though daring him to argue.
He sighed dramatically, leaning against the wall. “I didn’t know ‘marriage’ meant signing up for interior design hell.”
Your lips quirked upward as you threw a glance at the now-established vase. “Don’t worry, fiancé, I think you’re handling it really well for someone who just got a major upgrade in life.”
“Can’t help it,” he smirked, and stepped closer to you. “You’re kind of hard to resist,” he paused, eyes glinting with something that wasn’t just playful teasing. “Even when you’re trying to torture me with your cat figurines.”
You chuckled, stepping around him and tossing a few more things onto the shelf—mostly knick-knacks and personal items that would soon add a sense of comfort to the otherwise sterile space. You could feel the tension between you two, a quiet undercurrent of attraction, but you weren’t about to let him have the last word.
“You have hands, and a cold shower to help you, Rafe,” you told him, rolling your eyes. “Nothing’s happening.”
“Who said something was going to happen?” he smirked, and you wanted to wipe that smirk off his beautiful, beautiful face. “Are you thinking of naughty—”
“That’s enough communication for right now,” you clapped your hands. “We have more stuff to do.”
You both continued to unload boxes in comfortable silence, the sounds of moving things around punctuated by banter every now and then. Rafe was doing half of the work—he said he’d prefer you standing back and watching him take charge—and you did not mind, at all. The penthouse was big enough that it gave you space to spread out your things. Eventually, though, the once-overwhelming pile of boxes began to dwindle, and the place started to feel a little more like home.
“Alright, I think that’s the last one,” Rafe said, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead as he stacked the final few boxes in the corner. “I’m exhausted.”
You nodded, and gave him a smile. “Thanks for the help, big arms. I would’ve taken 24 years to finish it all,” you told him and laughed. 
“You’re going to make me blush,” he joked, and you laughed some more. “Alright, now that the worst of it’s done, how about I give you the grand tour? I know you’ve been here a few times, but not everywhere. Let me show you the full deal.”
You sighed and gestured dramatically. “Lead the way.”
With a self-satisfied grin, Rafe led you down the sleek hallway. He threw open the first door with a flourish, revealing a space so minimalist it was almost sterile. “My office,” he declared.
You peeked inside, noting the barely-touched desk, the pristine shelves, and a gaming console taking up prime real estate. “Wow,” you deadpanned. “Really grinding out those business emails, huh?”
“Hey, I do plenty of work,” he said defensively. “Like checking stats, signing autographs… crushing high scores.” You rolled your eyes but followed as he moved to the next door, revealing a home gym. “State-of-the-art equipment,” he boasted. “Not that you’d know, since you don’t lift.”
“Rafe, I’m literally a model. I do pilates, yoga, and weight training.”
“Pilates doesn’t count,” he shot back, smirking. “That’s just stretching with extra steps.”
“Asshole,” you muttered, shaking your head.
He took you through a theater room, complete with plush recliners and an oversized screen, and then to his master bedroom. The sheer size of the space made you pause. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a stunning view of the city skyline, and the decor screamed effortless luxury. You hated that it impressed you.
“Alright, you’ve had your little brag session. Can I go back to unpacking now?”
“Not yet,” he said, walking ahead of you. He stopped in front of the guest room—your room now—and pushed the door open. “Saved the best for last.”
You stepped inside, your eyes immediately catching on the changes. Gone was the sterile, hotel-like vibe. Instead, the space felt warmer, more personal. The bedding was a deep crimson red, bold and striking, and a textured rug covered the hardwood floor. Your favorite candles were neatly arranged on the windowsill, and a small vase of fresh flowers sat on the nightstand. Even your books, the ones you thought you’d packed, were already shelved on the built-in.
Your brows furrowed as you took it all in. “Why are the covers red?”
Rafe, leaning casually against the doorframe, hesitated for a beat before replying. “You know… because you…”
A teasing grin spread across your face. “Are you racially profiling me because I’m South Asian?”
His eyes widened slightly, and then he let out a laugh, shaking his head. “What? No! That’s not—”
You cut him off, crossing your arms with mock seriousness. “Oh, sure. Just because I like vibrant colors, you think red is my personality now?”
“Okay, first of all,” he said, “you do like vibrant colors. Second, red is bold, classy, and badass—like you. So stop making me sound like a jerk.”
You raised a brow, still trying to stifle your laughter. “Smooth recovery, Cameron. Real smooth.”
“Thanks,” he said, flashing you a grin. “I aim to please,” he teased, though his smirk softened slightly. “Maids come every three days, by the way, so you don’t need to worry about keeping the place spotless.”
You crossed your arms, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. “You mean I didn’t have to bring a box of cleaning supplies?”
“Nope,” he said with an unapologetic shrug. “But it was cute watching you haul it up here.”
Your mouth fell open. “You let me carry that thing around when you knew I wouldn’t need it?”
“You seemed determined,” he said, his grin widening. “I didn’t want to crush your little homemaker dreams.”
You groaned.
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You collapsed onto the oversized sofa with a dramatic sigh, sinking into the soft cushions as though they could swallow you whole. Your body ached from the day of unpacking and dealing with Rafe’s incessant commentary.
Rafe plopped down beside you, equally worn out but still managing to look annoyingly composed. He stretched his long legs across the coffee table, earning a glare from you.
“Feet down,” you muttered, voice muffled by the throw pillow you’d buried your face into.
“Make me,” he quipped, but the usual edge of teasing was dulled by the clear exhaustion in his tone.
You turned your head to give him a tired look, too drained to argue properly. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re bossy,” he shot back, though there was no real heat in his words. “But look at us. Day one of living together, and we didn’t kill each other. I’d say that’s progress.”
You snorted, turning to face him fully. “Barely. That vase almost did you in.”
He smirked, eyes glinting with mischief despite his fatigue. “You’ve got a lot of nerve bringing that thing into my house. It’s offensive to art.”
“It’s staying,” you declared, closing your eyes and sinking further into the couch. “I’m too tired to argue anymore.”
A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, a stark contrast to the usual whirlwind of your dynamic. The dim lighting in the penthouse bathed the room in a soft glow, it was peaceful, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. 
From the corner of your eye, you noticed Rafe turn his head, his gaze resting on you. But it wasn’t fleeting—his eyes lingered, studying you in a way that felt tender. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at you, his usually sharp blue eyes softened by the warmth of the moment. It was as if he were memorizing the curve of your cheek in the dim light, the way your hair fell over your shoulder, the quiet calm in your expression. It made your skin tingle under his attention, your pulse quickening despite the stillness.
“You did good today,” he murmured, his voice stripped of its usual cockiness, leaving only a quiet sincerity that caught you off guard.
You opened one eye to glance at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “Thanks...”
He shrugged, his lips curving into a small, crooked smile that made him look younger somehow, softer. “I mean it. This place… it already feels different. Warmer,” he admitted, his eyes flicking briefly to the room before returning to you. They lingered, holding yours in a way that made your breath hitch—like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing. “And not just because of that god-awful vase.”
A laugh escaped you, light and unguarded, filling the space between you. It felt good—freeing, even. The knot of tension in your chest began to loosen, melting away under the weight of his rare vulnerability. “Don’t get all sentimental on me now, Cameron,” you teased, though your voice lacked its usual sharpness.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with a quiet chuckle, leaning his head back against the couch.
The peace was interrupted by the faint buzz of your phone in your pocket. You groaned, pulling it out to check the screen. The sight of the message made your stomach twist all over again.
“Mom and Dad are flying in next week. They want to see you.”
Rafe noticed the change in your expression immediately. “What’s up?”
You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the screen before locking the phone. “Nothing. Just… family stuff.”
He didn’t press, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, as if trying to figure out what you weren’t saying. Instead, he let his head loll back again, closing his eyes.
“Family stuff, huh?” he murmured. “Well, if it’s anything like mine, I recommend a lot of wine. Or tequila.”
You huffed a quiet laugh, though your chest still felt tight. The idea of seeing your parents again—after everything—was a storm brewing on the horizon. But for now, with Rafe beside you and the weight of the day finally catching up, you let yourself push it to the back of your mind.
“Noted,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
“You always wear socks indoors.” he said suddenly.
You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What?”
He nodded toward your feet, wiggling his own toes for emphasis. “The socks. You’ve been in them all day. Do you ever just… go barefoot?”
You looked down at the patterned socks you were wearing—yellow with tiny sunflowers. “I like socks. They’re cozy,” you replied defensively. “Not all of us can just parade around barefoot like some child.”
Rafe snorted, shaking his head. “You’re missing out. Bare feet are freedom.”
“Freedom? That’s dramatic,” you shot back.
“Dramatic is wearing sunflower socks in a penthouse,” he countered, gesturing toward your feet.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Alright, since we’re apparently sharing quirks, what’s with the candle obsession? You’ve got, like, ten of them over there.”
Rafe followed your gaze to the collection of candles on the coffee table and nearby shelves. “What can I say? I like a good vibe,” he said, shrugging.
You raised an eyebrow. “Big, tough basketball player… lighting candles to set the mood?”
He grinned, leaning slightly closer. “I’ll have you know those candles are luxury. That one—” he pointed to a sleek black jar, “—is oud wood. Costs more than your vase, I’m sure.”
“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “You’re just scared of the dark.”
“Not scared,” he corrected. “Just prepared. You never know when the power might go out.”
“Uh-huh. Sure,” you said, sinking further into the cushions.
For a moment, the banter lulled, and you both stared at the flickering flame of one of the candles. Then, out of nowhere, Rafe spoke again. “I can’t whistle.”
You turned to him, blinking in surprise. “What?”
“Whistling,” he said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “Can’t do it. Never could.”
A grin spread across your face, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “Wait, really? You’re telling me Mr. Perfect Athlete can’t whistle?”
“Laugh it up,” he said, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Everyone’s got their thing. What about you? What’s something random you can’t do?”
You thought for a moment before admitting, “I can’t snap my fingers. Like, no matter how hard I try.’”
Rafe’s eyes lit up, and he immediately sat up straighter. “No way. Let me see.”
You demonstrated, rubbing your thumb and middle finger together in an attempt to snap. The result was a sad thud.
He laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. “That’s terrible.”
“Shut up,” you said, trying not to smile. “At least I can whistle.”
“Debatable,” he teased, leaning back again. “Bet your whistle sounds like a dying bird.”
“I know you’re not the one talking right now—you can’t even fucking whistle,” you shot back.
“Touché,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender.
The conversation flowed as easily as the soft light from the candles, meandering through odd confessions and surprising revelations. You were tucked into one corner of the oversized couch, legs crossed beneath you, while Rafe sprawled in his usual casual way, one arm slung along the back of the sofa as he toyed with a loose thread in the cushion.
“So, wait,” he said, his brows furrowing in mock disbelief. “You’re telling me you’ve never watched a single episode of The Office?”
“Not one,” you replied, unapologetic. “I’ve seen the memes. Isn’t that enough?”
Rafe placed a dramatic hand over his chest, like you’d just personally insulted him. “No, Y/N, that’s not fucking enough. You’re missing out on peak comedy.”
“I prefer my comedy with a little more effort, thank you,” you teased.
“Effort? It’s genius! Dwight Schrute alone could carry a show.”
You smirked. “Is this your idea of a personality test? Judging me based on sitcom preferences?”
“Yes!” he said, deadpan. “It tells me everything I need to know about you. And so far? Not looking great for you, wife.”
You reached over and shoved his arm lightly, laughing. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here I am, willingly living with you,” he shot back, grinning.
“Willingly might be a stretch,” you countered, leaning your head against the back of the couch. “Alright, since we’re trading weird facts, here’s one: I can recite the entire opening number to Wicked by heart.”
His brows lifted in surprise, but there was amusement in his gaze. “No way. Wicked? That’s the one with the green witch, right?”
“Yes, that’s the one with the green witch,” you said, mimicking his tone. “It’s a masterpiece, by the way.”
“If you say so,” he said, holding his hands up. “I just… didn’t peg you for the Broadway type.”
You shrugged, a little defensive. “What can I say? I like stories that stick with you.”
“Okay, fair. But you’re gonna have to prove it one day. Full performance.”
“Fuck no,” you said quickly, chuckling. “Your turn. What’s something no one would guess about you?”
He hesitated, looking away like he was searching for the right thing to say. Finally, he said, “I used to draw. Like, a lot.”
Your head tilted, curiosity piqued. “You? Draw? That’s amazing… but I can’t picture it.”
“Yeah, no one can,” he said with a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “I stopped when, uh, I got serious about basketball. But back in the day, I was obsessed. I even sketched my own sneaker designs once. Thought I’d have my own line or something.”
"That's actually really cool," you said, your voice warm with genuine admiration. Your eyes stayed fixed on him, sparkling with a curiosity that made his chest tighten.
For a moment, Rafe just looked at you, taken aback by the way you seemed so invested in his words, like what he said actually mattered. No one had ever looked at him like that before—not with real interest, not like this.
He cleared his throat, glancing away as a flicker of something unreadable passed through his expression. “Nah,” he said, his tone lighter than the weight in his eyes. “They’re long gone. Just... a stupid kid thing, anyway.”
“It wasn’t stupid,” you said, surprising even yourself with the firmness in your tone. “You should try it again. Who knows? Maybe you’d still be good at it.”
He looked at you, his expression unreadable for a long moment, before a small smile tugged at his lips. “Maybe.”
The moment stretched between you, warm and unspoken, until you finally broke it with a grin. “Okay, random question: what’s your weirdest food combination?”
Rafe laughed, the sound low and genuine. “You’re gonna judge me for this.”
“Definitely,” you said without hesitation.
“Alright, fine. Peanut butter and pickles.”
Your jaw dropped, and you stared at him like he’d just confessed to a crime. “You’re joking.”
“Dead serious,” he said, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”
“No, thanks,” you replied, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s some white people shit.”
“Your loss,” he said, smirking. “What about you? What’s your weird food thing?”
You hesitated, then admitted, “Okay, don’t laugh… but I dip fries in milkshakes.”
His face lit up with mock offense. “And you call me disgusting?”
“Hey, it’s a classic!” you defended.
He opened his mouth to say something, probably asking another weird question, but before the words could leave his lips, the sharp chime of the doorbell cut through the cozy atmosphere.
Rafe groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Who the hell—”
You raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe it’s one of your girlfriends that you didn’t tell me about.”
“Funny,” he deadpanned, though the corner of his mouth twitched as he stood up.
Before he could reach the door, the muffled sound of voices filtered through, followed by another ring—longer this time, like someone was leaning on the buzzer.
“Open up, Rafael!” a familiar voice called out.
“Oh, great,” Rafe muttered, his hand reaching for the door.
Sarah, JJ, and Aisha entered, bringing the kind of chaos only they could manage. Sarah deposited a pizza box on the living room table with a dramatic flourish, while JJ hoisted a takeout bag in the air like a trophy.
“Food’s here, peasants,” JJ announced, dropping onto the couch beside you as though he owned it. He nudged your leg with his knee, grinning like a kid who’d just pulled off a prank. “You’re welcome for saving you from whatever sad dinner you were planning.”
“JJ, be polite,” Sarah muttered as she flopped onto the rug with a container of fries. 
“Polite is boring,” JJ retorted. “You’re welcome for making your life exciting.”
“You’re fucking annoying,” Rafe said, sitting next to his sister.
“See? That’s gratitude,” JJ replied, leaning back and helping himself to the fries Sarah had claimed.
Aisha rolled her eyes as she set plates on the table. “I didn’t know people like him existed until twenty minutes ago.”
“Thank you, beautiful,” he said, winking at her.
“Anyway,” Sarah cut in, already swiping a slice of pizza, “what were you two up to before we so graciously interrupted?”
“I was gonna ask her dream place to live,” Rafe said, his voice carrying a teasing edge as he leaned against the counter. “But I guess we’ll never know now, thanks to you guys.”
“Oh, we’re not letting that go,” Sarah declared, pointing a fry at you. “Spill it. Where’s your dream home?”
You waved her off. “It’s not that interesting.”
“Now you have to tell us,” JJ said, sitting up straighter with exaggerated curiosity. “Somewhere glamorous, right? Like Paris? Or Cleveland. I feel like you give Cleveland energy.”
You stared at him, incredulous. “What does that even mean?”
“Cleveland has a vibe!” JJ insisted.
“No one says that,” Aisha shot back, throwing a balled-up napkin at him.
Sarah shook her head, laughing. “I’m guessing you’re a Milan or Tokyo kind of girl. Am I close?”
“Closer,” you admitted, smiling despite their relentless pestering. “London. Somewhere with smarter, and more fun people.”
“Cool,” Sarah said with a grin, nodding approvingly.
“Basic,” Rafe quipped, earning a pillow to the chest from you.
“Say that again, and I’m redecorating this whole place with vases,” you shot back, crossing your arms.
“Vasegate continues,” JJ deadpanned, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “What a tragic tale.”
“Can we talk about how you two are already bickering like an old married couple?” Aisha said, raising an eyebrow. “It’s very domestic in here.”
Rafe snorted. “Please. If this is domestic bliss, I want a refund.”
“He’s been annoying since this morning,” you countered, smirking at Rafe. “He’s been critiquing my interior design all day. He’s very invested.”
“Someone had to be,” Rafe shot back, but his eyes softened when they met yours, the teasing edge in his voice blunted by something warmer.
“I think it’s cute,” Sarah interjected, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “You guys are like one of those sitcom couples that secretly loves each other but spends every episode pretending they don’t.”
“Excuse me,” JJ said, raising his hand like a teacher’s pet. “If this is a sitcom, I’m the fan-favorite supporting character. Just putting that out there.”
“You wish,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes.
“And what does that make me?” Aisha asked, feigning offense.
“The responsible one who keeps everyone from burning the house down,” you said with a laugh, nudging her shoulder.
“Accurate,” Sarah replied, grinning. 
“But seriously, this is nice. All of us hanging out. It feels... cozy,” you said, with a small smile.
JJ gasped dramatically. “Is that sentiment I hear? Someone mark the calendar!”
“Watch your mouth, Maybank,” Rafe warned.
The conversation flowed easily after that, bouncing from JJ’s ridiculous anecdotes about being chased by geese to Sarah recounting a disastrous double date she’d been on. Rafe chimed in with sarcastic remarks that made everyone laugh, and even Aisha’s usual composed demeanor cracked when JJ impersonated Rafe’s annoyed voice.
At one point, Aisha leaned over to you, her voice low. “You seem happier,” she said, her eyes soft.
You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
“With him,” she said, nodding subtly toward Rafe, who was currently trying (and failing) to win an arm-wrestling match with his sister. “I don’t know. There’s just... something lighter about you.”
Your gaze shifted to Rafe as he laughed at something JJ said, his shoulders relaxed, his grin unguarded. He caught your eye for a moment, his expression softening in a way that sent a ripple through your chest.
You turned back to Aisha, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said simply, and she gave you a knowing look before standing to help gather the empty containers.
By the time everyone started leaving, the penthouse felt fuller, warmer. Sarah and JJ bickered their way out the door, and Aisha hugged you tightly, her smile lingering as she said, “You deserve this. Don’t forget that.”
As the door clicked shut behind them, you leaned against it, the quiet settling back in. Rafe glanced up from where he was stacking empty pizza boxes, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that look for?”
“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head as you pushed off the door. “Just... thinking.”
“That’s never good,” he teased, his smirk softening as you joined him to help clean up.
And as you cleaned side by side, the thought lingered: maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the chaos you’d expected. Maybe it was something better.
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chapter twelve
INFO ABOUT UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @aliyahwritings-notifs and turn on notifications!!!
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558 notes · View notes
lewisvinga · 8 months ago
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sneaky link | jude bellingham x sainz! reader
summary; y/n knew it wasn’t the best idea to sneak jude in while her family was out at dinner. but she couldn’t help but risk it despite her overprotective brother
warnings; cursing
word count; 956
taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03 @c-losur3 @fall-bambi
note; before you all ask no i’m not okay w the kroos news
masterlist !
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆
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⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆
“Oh shit,” Y/n mumbled as she heard multiple cars pull up into her driveway. She quickly gets up from Jude’s lap and looks out her bedroom window. She mentally curses when she sees the cars of her parents, brother, and sister in the driveway.
“What happened?” He asked curiously, lifting his head from her pillow.
She picked up his white t-shirt and zip-up hoodie from her makeup chair and chucked it at him. “My family came back earlier than expected. Hurry! Put your clothes back on!”
A laugh escaped from his lips as he sat up on her bed. He sets his phone down and catches his clothes. “You weren’t complainin’ 5 minutes ago when you were on my lap and-“
“Yes you’re very hot and as much as I appreciate you shirtless,” Y/n huffed, watching her brother shut the door to his Ferrari. “My brother wouldn’t.”
“I swear he’ll like me.”
“Just because you play for Real Madrid doesn’t guarantee that Carlos won’t go all crazy big brother on you.”
“Yeah but-“
“Y/n!” Her mother’s voice called out for her from the bottom of the stairs. “We came early and brought back dessert. Come down to the backyard!”
Y/n and Jude shared the same wide-eyed look. Whenever he visited especially late at night, the backyard patio was where he usually snuck out since there were cameras in the front door. With her whole family outside, it would be more difficult to get him out.
She hears the back door open and close, meaning they’re all outside. “You can get out from the side-“ She turned back to face her boyfriend and noticed he was still shirtless. “Stop distracting me!”
Jude couldn’t hold back his laugh from her panicked face. She glared at him as he wiped the tears from his eyes, taking deep breaths to try to stop laughing. “Okay, okay, fine! I’m sorry.” He said in between laughs, putting on his white shirt.
“I don’t know why you’re so worried though. I’ve met your mom already.”
Y/n sighed and grabbed her ugg slippers. “My mom. You’ve met my mom. Not my brother or dad.” She mumbled in reply. She remembered the time she brought a boy home when she was 15. Boy did her brother scare him away. Ever since then, she swore she wouldn’t bring a guy around Carlos not until she knew he was ready to see his baby sister be an adult.
“He can’t be that bad.”
She gave him a glare and he raised his hands up in defense. She grabbed his hand as she slowly opened her bedroom door. She looks down the lengthy halls before quietly and carefully dragging him towards the staircase.
“Now, keep quiet because I don’t need Carlos seeing you,” Y/n whispers to Jude who nods in response. They made it to the bottom of the staircase and were about to rush towards the side doors when a familiar voice stopped them.
“Don’t need me seeing who?”
The couple froze in their spots, both too scared to turn around. She felt her heart stop for a second when Carlos cleared his throat again. “Y/n.” His voice was stern.
She gulped and slowly turned around. She stood in front of Jude but that did little due to his height. She was met with her brother's stern gaze. His jaw was clenched, clearly unhappy at the sight of his baby sister with a boy.
Carlos knew who Jude was. Being a Madridista since birth meant he knew every player, especially one who helped them win the league. The Ferrari driver was a fan of the English player, at least he was until he saw him standing behind Y/n.
“He was just leaving-“
“Why is he here?”
“Hello, Jude, nice to meet you,” Jude said with a smile. He held his hand out but Y/n immediately slapped it down. “What? I’m trying to be nice!”
She glanced back at her brother and took a step closer to him. “Por favor, Carlos. No hagas de esto un gran problema.” [please, carlos. don’t make this a big problem] She quietly said. “Has hablado bien de él. No cambies tu opinión ahora solo porque el es mi novio [you’ve talked good things about him. don’t change your opinion now just because he’s my boyfriend]
Her eyes were wide and her eyebrows were furrowed up, showing how much she wanted her brother to be calm about her relationship. Jude was confused as he stared at the Sainz siblings. He only knew so much Spanish and certainly not to the extent of understanding all of what his girlfriend said.
Carlos lets out a deep sigh as he gently pats her arm. “Vale.” [okay] He says after thinking for a few seconds. “So what, is he your sneaky link?”
His words caused Y/n to gasp as the English player bursted into laughter once again. “Carlos! I just said he’s my boyfriend!” She exclaimed, ignoring the feeling of her face burning up as her boyfriend balanced himself on her and tried to stop laughing.
“Why’re you sneaking him out?”
“Because of you!”
Jude takes a deep breath before standing back up straight. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout sneaking behind your back. It did kinda seem like I was her sneaky link.” He said with a smile, gently poking her cheek.
Carlos gave him a glare which made the Real Madrid’s player smile fall. The Ferrari driver immediately smiled before pulling him into a side hug. “Oye, no more sneaking around with my sister. You’re an amazing player on the pitch and just because you’ve saved us many times doesn’t mean I’ll be easy on you for dating my sister.”
“Got it, no more sneaky link meet-ups.”
“Jude!”
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kailoweenie · 8 days ago
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Hyun-Ju/player 120 x Trans! Reader
A/N: can be read both as Transfem/woman reader or Transmasc/man reader. The reader is implied to have a physical appearance that points out they're not cis (e.g facial structures, hair, voice, etc but not specified!)
This is also very self indulgence because.....I'm a trans guy who really likes her so....T4T duo fr fr
Also the fact that there's barely any GIFs of her is crazy, I took this gif from an edit of her by @/slutcountry on TikTok LOL
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You were here for a similar reason as she was. Whether it's to begin/continue HRT or start physically transitioning with surgery or even simply just needing the money to move to someplace more accepting
The first time you saw her was during the face scan at the very beginning of round 1. You just couldn't help but notice player 120 amongst the other players.
Your eyes widened as you realized that she could've been trans. Maybe it was a wild assumption at the moment but if you were right....then there was another player in the game who was just like you.
The first time you properly talked was during round 2 of the games.
With the other players reacting to you negatively for simply being or looking trans. You had no choice but to muster up the courage to approach the girl that you had been shyly keeping an eye on.
"hey..." You trailed off, voice quiet as you gently- yet slightly awkwardly- rest a hand on her arm. You glanced at the people around you before taking a breath, finally speaking up "can i...is it...okay if I joined you...?".
When she first turned to look at you, you almost stumbled a bit in surprise.
Unlike some other players, there didn't seem to be any fear or judgement in her eyes....she simply smiled and nodded, her voice deep and soothing "of course. We needed one more in our group either way". You gave back a small smile, nodding in acknowledgement to the other 3 players you were teamed up with.
You end up deciding to play the 4th game, the one with the spinning top. You of course stayed quiet when the others needed focus while also calming and cheering the others on if they end up panicking.
When it was your turn, there was still quite some time left. Though as you failed the first time, panic slowly started to creep in.
That is, until you feel a warm hand resting on your shoulder. Looking to the right, you listened intently as player 120 calmed you down. Taking a deep breath like she told you to do, you managed to get it to spin the next try.
The smile on your face was bright as everyone cheered in excitement but the only thing you could focus on was how proud she seemed to look as you succeed.
By the end of the game, you went back to the bed quarters. All 5 of you buzzing with gratefulness that you survived another round.
You sat next to player 120, too shy to sit too close yet still wanting to be close to her presence.
It was the old woman who spoke up first, curious about the both of you considering you both were...a bit obvious you weren't cis.
It was her who spoke up first, talking about her experience and how she wanted the money to move away. You sat there silently as you listened, almost every part of the things she said...you could unfortunately relate to. The need to go somewhere more... accepting.
"...I know how you feel" you suddenly spoke up, all four of them seemed to turn to you. Your confidence faltering a bit at the attention yet you kept going, your gaze flickering to player 120's face.
"The...desperation. The need to go somewhere that might be more accepting to people like me...to people like us." You sighed, idly playing with the hem of the jacket's sleeves "I'm in the same boat. I'm not exactly...." You trailed off, waving your hand up and down your body, hoping they'd take the hint.
Her gaze softened at your words, a small smile on her lips at the confession. The others didn't seem to mind either. You knew it was probably a...bad idea getting attached yet you can't help but care deeply for the other four already.
•It was player 007 who spoke up after a few seconds of silence. Deciding to introduce himself and his mom. That's when you learned each other's names. And that's when you learned her name.
"Cho Hyun-ju...you uh- you have a nice name" you muttered, loud enough for her to hear. The compliment seemed to surprise her a bit, clear in her face that she wasn't expecting it. You expected her not to say anything back yet when she did, your heart was practically buzzing in happiness
"...you have a nice name too." She paused, giving you a small smile "it's nice to meet you".
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solxamber · 1 month ago
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Had the thought of "Malleus helps the prefect with their crush on a NRC student by suggesting fae courtship advice" and realized how funny it sounded but I cannot for the life of me write. So I skitter to you
So! Maybe a request of Malleus listening to how his beloved little friend has a crush on azul or idia whoever you choose, and is too anxious of rejection to ask them out, but he tries his best to help, however he most likely has no idea on human courtship, so ends up giving reader advice that mostly correlates with fae courtship rituals, maybe with Lilia helping out somewhat with advice he knows would work better for humans and maybe it can be a fem or gn reader?/lh
Fae Courtship 101: Romance Gone Wrong || Idia Shroud
In your desperation to confess your feelings to Idia, you've recruited Malleus to help you. Except his help is mildly concerning at best and extremely alarming at worst.
a/n: so sorry for the extremely long wait, i hope you like it <3
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You were deep in super hell.
Not just any hell—ultra-max difficulty hell with a boss fight at the end. Why? Because you were hopelessly, embarrassingly smitten with Idia Shroud. Every time he so much as muttered a sarcastic comment under his breath, your brain turned into static noise and you felt like you were pulling on a gacha with a rate up of 0.000001%.
Which is why, when Malleus Draconia suddenly appeared in the middle of Ramshackle like a fae bat signal, you didn’t even blink. You were too far gone. You just flung yourself onto the couch and unleashed your woes like a possessed infomercial host.
“HE’S TOO CUTE,” you screamed into a throw pillow. “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. HIS HAIR GLOWS, MALLEUS. HIS. HAIR. GLOWS.”
Malleus, who had been standing ominously in the corner like a living gargoyle, tilted his head. “This sounds… grave.”
“IT IS,” you wailed. “Every time I see him, I want to just—ugh, I don’t know—hand him a limited-edition figure and tell him he’s my forever player two! But then I don’t because my brain decides to blue-screen instead! I’m a romantic coward!”
“Curious,” Malleus murmured.
You sat up, clutching the pillow like a lifeline. “Do you even know how bad it is? The other day, he tripped over his own shoelace and I almost confessed right then and there! I can’t keep living like this!”
Malleus’s glowing eyes narrowed in what could only be described as dramatic princely determination. “Say no more, child of man.”
You blinked. “Huh?”
“I shall aid you in this endeavor,” he announced, placing a hand over his chest like he was about to duel a dragon in your honor. “You have my solemn vow that your courtship will succeed.”
You blinked again, the words taking a few extra seconds to register. “Wait. What?”
“I have centuries of experience in matters of the heart,” Malleus declared with a completely straight face.
“You do?” you asked, very reasonably skeptical because the only “courtship” you could imagine him doing was with a gargoyle in a medieval tapestry.
“Indeed,” he continued, undeterred by your blatant disbelief. “Shroud will recognize your worth once we present him with a grand gesture of affection.”
“…Define ‘grand gesture,’” you said, suddenly wary.
“A trophy of unparalleled rarity,” Malleus suggested with the confidence of someone who had definitely never bought a gift before. “Or perhaps a demonstration of your magical prowess. You are quite skilled at… surviving near-death experiences, are you not?”
“That’s not a talent!” you yelped.
He ignored you, his enthusiasm building like a storm. “Yes. I shall teach you the ancient fae techniques of courtship. You shall sweep Shroud off his feet.”
You buried your face in your hands. “This is going to end in a lawsuit.”
“Nonsense,” Malleus said firmly. “It will end in love.”
You weren’t sure whether to cry, laugh, or start writing your will.
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You stared at the piece of paper in your hand like it had personally wronged you. Because, honestly, it had.
Malleus was perched regally on your couch, sipping tea like this wasn’t entirely his fault. “This poem,” he said, voice brimming with pride, “will surely capture Idia Shroud’s heart. It is both heartfelt and… inventive.”
“It’s terrible,” you muttered, waving the paper at him. “It sounds like a rejected NPC dialogue option.”
“Nonsense,” Malleus replied, unbothered. “It is a masterpiece of raw emotion. Shall I read it to you again?”
“No!” you said, alarmed. “I still haven’t recovered from the first time!”
It had been a mess. Rhyming “gamer” with “flamer,” shoehorning in “Player Two,” and an overly dramatic stanza about “lighting up the dark like a 5-star pull.” It sounded like a bad RPG side quest.
“I can’t give this to him,” you whined. “He’ll think I wrote it drunk.”
Malleus, ever unshaken, tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Then I shall present it to him on your behalf. I am an excellent orator.”
Your brain lagged. “You what?!”
Before you could stop him, Malleus plucked the poem from your hands and practically glided out the door. You ran after him, panic bubbling in your chest.
You caught up to him just as he cornered Idia in the library. Poor Idia looked like he was questioning every life choice that had led him here.
“Child of man,” Malleus said gravely, holding the poem like it was an ancient scroll. “Your heart has crafted a most wondrous ode to Idia Shroud. Allow me to deliver your words of passion.”
“No. Nope. Nope,” you interrupted, lunging forward.
But Malleus had already begun. “To the one whose hair glows like—”
You didn’t let him finish. Instinct took over. You snatched the paper out of his hand and, in one smooth motion, ate it.
Idia blinked. Then blinked again. “…Did you just eat paper?”
You gagged but managed to choke it down, wiping your mouth with as much dignity as you could muster. “Yup. Totally. Don’t even worry about it.”
Malleus looked genuinely offended. “Why would you consume such a heartfelt creation?”
“Because it was awful,” you hissed, yanking him by the sleeve.
Meanwhile, Idia just stood there, watching this unhinged disaster unfold. He glanced at Malleus, then at you, then at the faint sheen of sweat on your forehead. “Man,” he mumbled, “I should’ve just stayed in my room.”
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Malleus stood in the middle of Ramshackle’s living room, radiating regal confidence and possibly a bit too much enthusiasm for someone whose advice had caused you to eat a poem in front of your crush just two days prior.
“I have considered our previous efforts,” Malleus began, pacing dramatically, “and I believe it is time to enact a traditional fae courtship ritual.”
You squinted at him from your spot on the couch. “Define ‘traditional.’”
Malleus clasped his hands behind his back. “It is quite simple. You must leave a series of carefully chosen gifts for Idia to discover. Each one should symbolize your intentions, culminating in an offer of eternal devotion.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you said cautiously. “What kind of gifts are we talking about?”
Malleus turned to you, his expression far too serious. “The first gift must be a bouquet of midnight roses—each petal dipped in the dew of the first frost. The second, a vial of your own tears, to show vulnerability. And the third, a token of your affection, forged in moonlit flames.”
You stared at him, horrified. “Malleus, I don’t know how to say this politely, but… are you nuts?!”
He frowned, clearly confused. “Is this not how humans express their love?”
“No!” you exclaimed. “Nobody’s out here crying into vials or setting up romantic blacksmith sessions!”
Malleus waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. It is a noble and time-honored method. Come, I will assist you.”
Step 1: Midnight Roses
Somehow, you found yourself sneaking into the Botanical Gardens late at night with Malleus, who had insisted on conjuring the “perfect” roses.
“These roses will shine with a light so soft, it will illuminate your sincerity,” he said as he gestured dramatically.
A small explosion followed.
When the smoke cleared, you were holding a bouquet of roses that were glowing like neon signs. “Malleus, these look radioactive. Are you trying to confess or give him superpowers?”
He looked affronted. “Their brilliance reflects your ardor!”
Your ardor looked like it would set off a Geiger counter.
Step 2: The Vial of Tears
“Now, you must cry into this vial,” Malleus instructed, handing you what looked like a fancy perfume bottle.
“Do you hear yourself?” you asked, utterly baffled.
“Think of your love for Shroud,” he said. “Surely the emotion will move you to tears.”
You tried. You really did. But after five minutes of sitting there awkwardly, all you had to offer was a single, pathetic sniffle.
“Perhaps I should assist,” Malleus said, reaching out. “Do you require a tragic tale? A dramatic betrayal?”
“No! Absolutely not!” you snapped, shoving the bottle back at him. “I am not sobbing into a vial for anyone!”
Step 3: The Moonlit Token
The final step involved an actual fire pit behind Ramshackle because, according to Malleus, the moonlit flames were essential.
“I shall forge your token,” Malleus declared, summoning a small inferno that nearly took out the lawn.
When the smoke cleared, you held a jagged piece of metal that looked like it was ripped off an air conditioning unit.
“What is this supposed to be?” you asked flatly.
“A medallion,” Malleus said proudly.
“It looks like I pulled it out of a scrap heap!”
You delivered the “gifts” to Idia during a moment of sheer madness, mostly because Malleus had already enchanted the roses to literally float behind you, and they weren’t going anywhere.
Idia opened his door and froze. His hair immediately flickered pink as he stared at you, the bouquet, the medallion, and—was that a perfume bottle?
“What… is happening right now?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“It’s—uh—fae courtship stuff?” you mumbled, trying to shove the glowing bouquet into his hands.
The roses sparked.
“Oh my god, is this thing going to explode?!” Idia yelped, throwing them across the room.
You panicked and shoved the medallion forward. “Here! It’s—it’s a token of my affection?”
Idia stared at the jagged metal piece. “Did you… dig this out of a junkyard?”
“NO!”
Finally, you shoved the vial of “tears” at him. Idia took one look at it, his face a mixture of disbelief and growing alarm.
“Did you just hand me a potion ingredient?!”
At this point, you were ready to die. Before you could explain yourself, Idia closed the door and slid down to the floor on the other side, clutching his heart.
“Fae Courtship...they like me,” he whispered, his hair a vibrant pink. “They're insane, but they like me.”
Meanwhile, you turned to Malleus outside Ramshackle, utterly mortified.
“I hate you,” you groaned.
Malleus only smiled. “An absolute success.”
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Malleus was once again pacing in Ramshackle’s living room like a Victorian gentleman trying to solve the case of your disastrously one-sided love life.
“Here is what we shall do,” he said, hands clasped and gaze intense. “You will prepare a ceremonial feast. Cook for him using ingredients that symbolize your intentions. Lavender for devotion, honey for sweetness, and”—he paused dramatically—“a pheasant roasted under the light of the full moon. You must present it to him on a silver platter while reciting your feelings in the Fae tongue.”
You blinked. “Malleus. Where in Twisted Wonderland am I supposed to find a pheasant?!”
He looked mildly offended. “Surely you can catch one. Do you not have traps?”
“I live in Ramshackle, not the woods!” you snapped. “Also, I think Idia would keel over if I walked in with a roasted bird and started chanting in Fae.”
Malleus sighed. “Child of man, your lack of commitment is concerning.”
Before you could argue, Lilia materialized from who knows where with his usual mischievous grin. “Oh, don’t stop on my account,” he drawled. “This is incredibly entertaining.”
You glared at him. “Lilia, I’m in emotional distress, not a soap opera.”
“Exactly why I’m here,” Lilia said, flopping into a chair. “Malleus, your suggestions are delightful, but I’d prefer not to have Idia hospitalized from sheer terror. Allow me to offer some… balance.”
Malleus frowned. “Balance?”
“Yes,” Lilia said. “Like suggesting something sane, such as gifting him a rare figurine from one of his favorite animes. It’s thoughtful, meaningful, and most importantly, won’t require a midnight hunt.”
You thought getting a figurine would be easy. You were wrong.
You tried everything:
Azul offered to get it—if you signed a contract that basically gave him first claim on your future firstborn.
Ruggie smugly said he could “procure” it but asked for a kidney as collateral.
Just when you were about to accept your fate as figurine-less, Kalim swooped in like the sunshine prince he is, offering to buy it outright with his seemingly infinite wealth. “You want it? I’ll get it! It’ll be fun!” You could’ve cried.
Bless Kalim and his endless generosity.
When you finally gave the figurine to Idia, you were an exhausted wreck. It had taken days, multiple negotiations, and at least one near-death experience (Ruggie’s "payment terms" were aggressive).
Idia stared at the box, then at you, then back at the box. His hair flickered pink as his mind tried to process the situation.
“Is this—?” he started, his voice cracking.
You nodded. “It’s that limited-edition one you mentioned.”
Idia froze, clutching the box like it was the Holy Grail. “H-how did you even afford this?!” he stammered. “No offense, but have you seen Ramshackle?!”
“Bye!” you squeaked, panicking and bolting out the door before he could say anything else.
Malleus, watching you sprint away from Ignihyde like a spooked animal, nodded sagely. “Another success.”
Lilia shook his head, cackling. “If nothing else, this is fantastic entertainment.”
Meanwhile, back in his room, Idia sat on the floor, staring at the figurine. His hair was a fiery pink as his brain short-circuited.
“They remembered,” he whispered. “They actually remembered…”
Ortho popped into the room. “Big Brother, are you okay? Your vitals are—”
“LEAVE ME TO DIE IN PEACE!” Idia shrieked, clutching the figurine like a lifeline.
It was safe to say the figurine worked.
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You were lying on the couch at Ramshackle, contemplating your life choices and whether Malleus or Lilia was the greater threat to your sanity, when Ortho appeared at your door.
“Big Brother has summoned you to Ignihyde!” he chirped, far too cheerful for your emotional state.
“What did I do now?” you groaned, throwing an arm over your face.
“I think it’s good news!” Ortho said, clearly hiding something.
Given that this was Idia, “good news” could mean anything from “I found a new game to play” to “you’re about to be the first human test subject for my latest invention.” Against your better judgment, you followed Ortho.
When you entered Idia’s room, he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his hair flickering an anxious shade of pink. He didn’t even look up from his console, which was just a black screen because he’d obviously forgotten to turn it on in his panic.
“Uh, thanks for coming,” he mumbled.
“You did send your little brother to fetch me like I was being summoned to the Underworld,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms.
Idia winced. “Y-yeah, sorry about that. I panicked, okay?”
You sat down on the floor across from him, waiting. His hair crackled as he kept fidgeting, his gaze darting everywhere but you. Finally, he took a deep breath and blurted out:
“So, I’ve been analyzing your recent behavior, and it’s, uh… come to my attention that… maybe you like me?”
You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift from mumbling to outright accusations. “Analyzing my behavior?”
“Yes!” he squeaked, gripping his knees like his life depended on it. “The weird flustered thing you do when I talk to you, the whole ‘anime figurine extravaganza’ that nearly killed you—don’t think I didn’t hear about that, by the way—and the fact that you’ve willingly talked to me more than once. It all adds up!”
Your mouth opened, but no words came out. He looked increasingly panicked.
“I mean, if you don’t like me, that’s fine! I’ll just—uh, go smite myself with a lightning bolt or something. Lemme call Malleus; he’ll be thrilled to help.”
“Idia—”
“But!” he interrupted, holding up a finger. “If you do like me, I… I think I should tell you that I… uh, I like you too.” His voice cracked on the last word, and his hair flared bright pink. “A lot. Like, an unhealthy amount of 'a lot.’”
You sat there, stunned, as his words hung in the air.
“And, uh, I’m confessing because… well, I’m not sure I’d survive another one of Malleus’s courtship rituals. No offense, but I think he’s trying to kill me. Ortho heard he suggested you bring me a lock of your hair dipped in a mild poison to solidify our bond?!”
At that, the floodgates broke. Exhausted, drained, and done with this entire saga, you leaned forward, cupped his face in your hands, and kissed him. His hair crackled as it flared a near-neon pink, and he froze like a system on the verge of a crash.
When you pulled back, you sighed. “Thank you for finally putting me out of my misery.”
“I—wait—what—” His brain was clearly blue-screening.
“Idia,” you said firmly, shaking him gently. “Yes, I like you. Yes, this whole thing has been a nightmare. And yes, if I have to call Malleus one more time for ‘help,’ I might smite myself.”
He blinked rapidly, finally rebooting. “Oh. Cool. Uh, can I—?” He gestured vaguely, his face red as a tomato.
You rolled your eyes and kissed him again, pulling him into a hug. Somewhere in the distance, you were pretty sure you heard Ortho cheering.
Back at Diasomnia, Malleus scribbled something into his journal. “Another successful courtship facilitated by me,” he muttered, thoroughly pleased with himself.
“Keep telling yourself that,” Lilia said, chuckling from his spot on the couch.
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Masterlist
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kimmie2me · 2 months ago
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Dynamite and His Player 2
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Twitch Gamer!Bakugou x AFAB!Reader
.....
Bakugou glances over at the camera, brows furrowed as he adjusts his headset. "Alright, you extras, get ready to shut the hell up," he growls, his voice laced with annoyance. "She’s real. I’ve got her right here, and she’s playing with me tonight."
You laugh off-screen, causing his chat to explode with reactions. Up until now, they didn't believe a word Bakugou said when he claimed he had a girlfriend. After all, this is the guy known for his explosive reactions when things go slightly wrong. He grumbles, trying to keep his cool, but the slight blush on his cheeks gives him away.
The game loads up, some horror-puzzle co-op that requires a ton of coordination. But while Bakugou’s all business—focused on solving puzzles and surviving—you have other ideas. You’re busy teasing him, wandering off to explore the map, or purposely messing up just to get a rise out of him.
"Can you just—dammit! Will you STOP wandering off?" Bakugou snaps as he watches your character take another detour. "We’re supposed to be working together!"
You grin at the screen, purposely moving your character in circles. "Aw, come on, Suki~ We’re just having fun, right?"
His jaw clenches, and he mutters something under his breath about "not having fun if you keep screwing around." But his viewers are eating it up, laughing at his frustration and flooding the chat with comments like "She's brave for messing with him, LMAO😭😭" and "Bros .4 seconds away from exploding his monitor for the 10 millionth time🪦"
Eventually, he just huffs, slouching in his chair and mumbling, "Fine. Do whatever the hell you want. I’ll just wait here." His expression says he's beyond annoyed, but the hint of a smile peeking through his scowl gives away that maybe, just maybe, he's actually having a little fun too.
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Grumpy Twitch Gamer Bakugou Headcanons
...
— Every time he messes up, he narrows his eyes at the camera with that “are you stupid?” glare. Chat spams "IT’S NOT OUR FAULT!” and "WHY R U LOOKING AT US LIKE WE DID THAT??" but he just huffs, “If you idiots weren’t DISTRACTING me…”
— Bakugou’s streaming style is brutally honest—constantly throwing out curses like it’s second nature. If he dies in-game, his go-to is, “How the hell am I supposed to win with this garbage game?!” and he never blames himself, ever.
— He has zero chill. Every so often, he’ll pound the desk so hard that the camera shakes, and one time he punched his mic so fiercely that it cut out, leaving chat in hysterics as he tries to fix it, muttering about “this piece of crap gear.”
— After every gaming session, he gives a review of the game he’s playing—most of which devolve into full-on rants about terrible controls, stupid enemies, and “whoever the hell designed these levels.” At this point, it's an entire essay by the time he's done.
— There are moments when he hits the mute button just to scream or cuss off-mic. Chat sees him red-faced and mouthing words, knowing he’s losing it, which makes them spam laugh emotes to annoy him further.
— Sometimes, when things get really bad, he just simply says "Okay." and goes quiet, leaning in close to the screen with this intense focus. Chat knows that if he’s silent, it’s only because he’s plotting to obliterate whatever got him killed.
— It’s become a running joke with his followers—every time he streams, they place bets on which piece of his equipment he’ll break. He’s replaced his keyboard three times already and had to upgrade his camera stand because he broke the last one during a particularly heated rage quit.
— When he finally beats a level, he acts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “See? Wasn’t even hard, you just have to not be a dumbass.” Cue the smug smirk.
— Occasionally, in his absolute rage, he’ll end the stream immediately after a loss. One second he’s there, screaming at the game, and then—stream offline.
— Despite all the rage, he’s actually insanely good at gaming. When he goes on a winning streak, chat blows up with admiration, but he barely acknowledges it. “’Course I won—who the hell do you think I am?”
— He has zero patience for backseat gamers. “Oh, you think you could do better? Why don’t you go start your own damn channel, then!” The mods know by now to instantly time out anyone who even hints at suggesting how he should play, and the ban count is astronomical by the end of each stream.
— Occasionally, Bakugou gets so into the game that he goes almost silent, and chat jokes it’s an ASMR session because all they can hear is his intense breathing and muttered curses. “Oi, STOP saying it’s ASMR, it’s not ASMR, you freaks!”
— Loading screens are his worst enemy. Every single time, he glares directly into the camera, arms crossed and seething, ranting about the “stupid long loading times” and how he could’ve “beat the damn game twice by now.” and how "a whole child could've been born by now." Chat watches in suspense because they know the rage is simmering, just waiting to explode.
— If he’s playing a console game, the controller does not have a safe future. He’s thrown it across the room, slammed it on his knee or desk, and even threatened it like, “You’re next, you little piece of shit, keep messing up on me.” He’s gone through so many controllers that his sponsor had to send him extras.
— When he loses in a PvP game, he has 1,001 excuses. “Lag. Dumb luck. Exploiter. The devs nerfed my character, obviously.” If chat calls him out, he just scoffs, “You think that was my fault? Keep dreaming.” And the mods instantly clear out any “L” spam from chat because he’s already dangerously close to slamming his keyboard.
— His channel has special emotes for when he loses his temper—explosion icons, angry Bakugou faces, and even one of his own “ARE YOU FUCKIN’ KIDDING ME?!” face. Chat spams these whenever he starts heating up, which only fuels his fire.
— His viewers love to try and provoke him. Someone will innocently say, “Hey Dynamight, I think you missed something back there,” and he’ll instantly pause, glare at the screen, and say, “I DIDN’T MISS ANYTHING, DUMBASS, WE'RE MOVING ON.” It’s like a game within the game for his followers. (He goes back to check right after.)
— “Easy mode?” he scoffs at the suggestion. “I’d rather throw myself into a fire than play on easy mode.” Even if he’s dying over and over, he’ll never, ever change the difficulty. Chat has tried for months to get him to switch, but he’s stubbornly loyal to “the only real mode” (aka Hard Mode, Nightmare mode or above).
— If he actually wins a match, he’s unbearable. He’ll sit there, grinning and basking in his victory, smirking at the camera with a smug, “And that, extras, is why I’m better than every single one of you.” Cue chat sarcastically clapping.
— He once had a bet with his mods that he’d try to do a stream without cursing or raging. He lasted five minutes before he exploded, screaming, “THIS GAME IS FUCKING RIGGED!” after an unexpected jump-scare. The mods were dying, and he banned half of them out of spite (they were unbanned five minutes later, but still).
— Every time he’s about to start a new game, he’s got this exaggerated, dramatic intro: “ALRIGHT, EXTRAS, prepare yourselves ‘cause we’re about to dominate the shit outta this game. And if I see anyone backseat gaming, you’re banned. Don’t even THINK about telling me what to do.”
— Every now and then, when he dies for the tenth time in a row, he just deadpans to the camera, “I swear to God, I’m deleting my channel after this.” Chat knows he’s bluffing, but they still spam crying emojis like “NOOO PLEASE DON’T” just to mess with him.
— Every so often, when he’s focused on a tough level, he’ll mutter something like, “Okay, maybe you’re not so bad, chat. Don’t tell anyone I said that,” and the comments absolutely blow up with hearts and “WE LOVE YOU, DYNAMIGHT.” He immediately goes red and yells, “Didn’t mean it, idiots!” but it’s too late.
— Once, he rage-quit a game so hard that his entire setup fell silent. He’d punched the desk, and the screen went black. Chat watched in shock as the stream just… cut off. The clip went viral, with an entire 30-minute compilation titled “Every time Dynamight destroyed his setup” He came back the next day, reacted to it, and you already know he gave the video a thumbs down and left a long hate comment.
— His mods convinced him to play a “relaxing, casual game” that was secretly full of jump scares. The first time it happened, he almost flipped his entire desk. He immediately banned half of his mods and told the rest they were “on thin ice.” Chat still laughs about it every time he plays a “cute” game.
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vxnuslogy · 4 months ago
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— will they, won’t they.
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pairing: hoshina soshiro x gn!reader
premise: hoshina soshiro has been hopelessly in love with you for years now. and for the first time, you finally hear him say the words "i love you."
— warnings: down bad + jealous hoshina, modern setting, reader is a kyudo player.
— author's note: little miss says she's going on a break then proceeds to write about hoshina soshiro for all the dying fans (its me, i'm the dying fans.) art credits to @.BByo_chick on twitter.| ~700 words.
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“how long are ya gonna keep me here?”
“no one is forcing you to.”
hoshina only clicks his tongue and stares at the dojo walls. his finger impatiently tapping at his chin as he hits crossed leg on the floors. it’s half past 5 in the afternoon now and you have no intentions of going home anytime soon.
“i’m gettin’ bored here,” he drawls, hands stretching over his head as he watches you shoot another arrow with pin-point accuracy that makes his smirk twitch uncomfortably. you’ve gotten too good at kyudo, and it shows.
“then go home,” you reply as you pull the bow back and aim for your next shot. “you don’t have to keep waiting for me to finish.”
but that was the thing: hoshina wanted to wait for you and he always will.
he wants everyone to know that you had him and he’s all you’ll ever need. there was no need for that guy who caught your fall a few days ago—not when he’s been catching you for the past 3 years. he was your guide in the train station every morning, so why do you keep trying to go to the station earlier and ask your junior for directions? hoshina soshiro was always by your side, so why couldn’t you see that?
“i’ll wait,” he murmurs into his hand, eyes looking at anything but at you. “got nothin’ to do at home anyways.”
it was a weak excuse, but it always does the trick. you always relent and let him stay but not without throwing a look over your shoulder that screams “you’re acting strange.” because he was. hoshina, against his will, feels his lips being tugged into a frown whenever you interact with anyone that isn’t him.
that sounds very bad–it is bad in a sense–but hoshina would never dream of taking away your freedom. so he just watches, painfully by the sidelines, with a scoff on his face as another student from a rival school stammers to ask for your number. it was irritating, having to watch everyone throw themselves at you when you’re clearly uninterested. 
“what the hell will happen if i’m not by yer side, captain.” hoshina jests as you pack up your stuff and lock the dojo.
“is this about earlier?” you ask with an amused lilt to your voice. “when the new student asked for my number?”
hoshina hated how you always aimed for the heart.
“i have no idea what yer talkin’ about,” he weakly tries to change the topic. hoshina racks his brain to think of something—anything—to help change the conversation, but his mind keeps circling back to you. how you almost looked serious when some guy–who was leagues below you by the way–had the gall to ask you out for a date.
“never took you for the jealous type.” you tease.
“it’s because ‘m not.” he said through gritted teeth, hands balling into small fists against his school bag. “‘m lookin’ out for ya, alright? that guy was a creep. i’m keepin’ yer ass safe from weirdos.”
you looked unconvinced but didn’t comment on his unusual aggressiveness. hoshina let out a frustrated sigh, a hand coming to ruffle your hair and pull just a tiny bit closer that would make everyone question your relationship. this was driving him crazy but he couldn’t do anything about it.
“‘m not jealous. get that over yer pretty little head.”
and until you both got on the train and went your separate ways to go home, hoshina soshiro never once let your hand drop to your side. he kept you impossibly close to his side and whispered sweet good lucks into your ear. body so comfortably lax in your presence he was slouching on the train seat so he could bury his nose in your hair. 
hoshina soshiro was so unfathomably in love with you. 
how could he not love you when you use your own heartbeat to calm his erratic one during every competition? when every hug has his mind spinning with gold and you. every victory is dedicated to your name, and no trophy or medal could ever compare to the feeling of running into your arms and drowning in your praise.
“i love you.” he mutters as you sleep peacefully on his shoulder on your way home. how many years has he been saying it before he lost count? it’s truly just a matter of when you’ll wake up and finally realize it yourself.
he feels the blood rush to his brain as he throws himself on his bed, unable to wipe the image of you smiling as if you had heard him.
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© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.
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