#their first mistake was asking what I wanted

[imnotshua]

show me how - kmg

٠࣪⭑ pairing: kim mingyu x fem reader ٠࣪⭑ summary: you meet mingyu in a bar and then you fuck. that's it, that's the tweet. ٠࣪⭑ genre: generic au, strangers 2 lovers, smut ٠࣪⭑ rating: explicit. minors do not interact with me, i'll block you. ٠࣪⭑ warnings: swearing, drinking, one night stand. ٠࣪⭑ smut contents: gendered terms, mingyu has an enormous cock (canon), kisses, v fingering, oral (f receiving), v sex, mingyu 🔛🔝, wet patches <3. teasing but it's good natured. if you think i've forgotten anything please let me know so i can fix my post! ٠࣪⭑ wc: 2k - complete ٠࣪⭑ a/n: i needed a break from angsty wonwoo and this just sort of happened, my bad, lads and ladettes. please note this is unbeta'd and unedited because it's 1am and i'm tired now thank u vm, any mistakes are my own but do lmk if u see any so i can fix ٠࣪⭑ thank you all for visiting my little corner of the internet. i hope u like this one<3

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · Jeonghan always does this. He insists it’s his job as department lead to take the new recruits out for drinks, as a sort of ice breaker. Terrible idea, you always say, to feed newbies (far too much) alcohol on their first Friday, and expect them to feel totally comfortable in his presence come Monday. That’s why you’re always there too, because you can rein Jeonghan in (sometimes) and it’s not your department to actually worry about. 

Tonight is like any other. Jeonghan is playing matchmaker for some unsuspecting interns and Seungcheol is trying not to make moon eyes at him. Ridiculous, if anyone asks you, which no one does. You’re perfectly content sitting at the bar nursing your drink and texting Seungcheol to let him know what a down bad loser he is, until someone too enormous to ignore takes the seat next to you. And you’re annoyed, even though it is the only spare seat in this place, because his giant arm knocks yours as he calls down a bartender, sending your drink splashing over the counter. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he says, grabbing for tissues and mopping up the mess. “Let me get you another.”

“Oh. No, I’m good actually.”

“That was a full glass of wine.” Here we go.

“Yes it was.” 

Seungcheol is texting you already. 

Cheolie: who is THAT guy Cheolie: you should fuck him immediately oh my god Cheolie: he’d swing you round like a bat

Why on earth would I want to be swung around like a bat?

“C’mon, let me make it up to you,” says Tall Stranger. Even sitting down he’s a head above you. He’s probably terrible for your mental health. ”I’d feel guilty all night if I can’t replace it.” 

“I don’t take drinks from random men.”

Cheolie: idk dude but he could do it Cheolie: he’s your type!!!!!!!! Cheolie: when did you last get laid even “Technically you’d be taking it from the staff. I’d just pay for it.”

He’s not even hot. He’s just tall

Cheolie: bitch i can see his cheekbones from here Cheolie: 11/10 easy

Finally turning looking at him properly, you have to give Seungcheol credit where credit is due. All smooth skin, big eyes, and perfectly full lips. You could cut your finger on that cupid's bow. 

“I guess you’ve got me there,” you say.

“I’m Mingyu.” He smiles wide. Oh nooo, he’s hot. 

I’m not fucking a stranger from a bar! Go tell Jeonghan you wanna suck his dick and leave me alone

Cheolie: :))))))))))))

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“My apartment was definitely closer,” Mingyu says between wet kisses pressed to your jaw. 

You push him off to pull your shirt over your head and he gapes at your chest. Pervert. “Well, we’re here in case you turn out to be a killer,” you say. Mingyu crowds your space again so fast, slipping impatient hands down your body, warming your skin with them. Snaking one between your legs and finding the material of your underwear a little damp. “At least then my roommates could find my body.” 

“Not a killer–” he says against your neck. “But I am about to murder this pu–”

“Oh my God, never say that again.” 

“Noted.”

The best thing about one night stands with guys might actually be that you can say and do pretty much anything, and there’s little to no embarrassment. You can tell Mingyu here that it’s his job to make you come before he does, and all he does is nod, dumb and horny, and a lot into it. 

He moves back on your bed, pillows shoved out of the way and spine pressed against the headboard, and looks at you with something like trepidation. If trepidation could be sexy or whatever. You climb into his lap and take your time unbuttoning his shirt. Mingyu watches your hands as you brush against his skin and asks if he can kiss you.

“Since you asked so nicely,” you say, offering up your neck. 

Unfortunately, he’s ever so good. Just smiles sheepishly (very hot) and tugs your chin down to catch your bottom lip between his. It’s better than you expect. Attractive men don’t kiss this well, usually, because they never had to work for it. Unfair, really. “Let me make you feel good,” he whispers against your lips, deft fingers tugging your underwear to the side.

Everywhere goes tight as he rubs circles over your clit. Mingyu holds up your skirt with his other hand, leans back to watch, and the heat creeps over your neck. What was that you were thinking about little to no embarrassment? Disappears the moment you see his jaw slacken, cheeks flushing with want, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You feel so soft,” he says. “So fucking wet.” God, who made him? You drag an unsteady breath as a finger slips inside, curls it just enough to make you whimper. He strokes you gently, working you open, slipping another finger in just as soon as he thinks you can take it. You can’t. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. He leans in to drag his teeth across your shoulder.  “You just got so tight. Wanna feel that on my cock.”

“Do you always narrate?” Your words come thready. Embarrassing times ten. 

“Uh– yeah,” he laughs. “Should I stop?”

“No, no. It’s okay.” 

“Gonna make you come now, baby,” he says. “It’s gonna be fast, okay? Need to fuck you.”

“Cocky–” you start, but he’s laving a flat tongue over the lace of your bra, making your nipple pebble through the thin material. His fingers slide deeper, his wrist coated in you, and the way he uses the heel of his palm against your clit is leaving you breathless. He smiles with pleasure as your moan catches in your throat. Applies the pressure, just the right amount, to have you bucking against his hand. “Needy.” He says it like it’s praise.

“I’ll snap your fingers off inside me, Mingyu.”

“Do you always threaten people?” He teases your clit again and it’s blinding. He moans as you clench impossibly tight. 

“Yea– fuck. Shit. Gonna come.”

Mingyu's lips find yours in a second. Licks into your mouth, kisses you through it. Hums happily, so annoyingly pleased with himself, as you shudder your way through your orgasm, a wet patch forming on his jeans. 

The rest of your clothes come away just as quick, and Mingyu groans like a fucking loser. It’s both gross and horribly attractive. Doesn’t move his hands from your body as you make fast work of his belt, lifts his hips to help you pull his jeans down and free his hard length. 

“What the fuck is that?” 

Mingyu blinks. “What is what?”

“That can of fucking Pringles you’ve got between your legs?” 

“It’s not that big.”

You can’t quite believe it. “Oh my God, you are going to murder my pussy,” you cry. “This is cruel and unfair. They’re gonna put ‘Death by Monster Cock’ on my headstone.”

“This is unbecoming.”

“Your dick is unbecoming.”

Mingyu looks ready to cry. “Are you going to touch me yet? I think I’m going to explode.”

“Yes, yes, fine. But this had better be as hard as you get.”

Unfortunately when you take him in your hands, Mingyu does actually get harder (hahaha you’re going to die) and you try to decide how you’re actually going to take this. 

“God– fuck,” Mingyu murmurs as you work your hands over him. He all but melts against your headboard, and you wonder just how many people have survived him. Not like– the size of him (well, that too) but the way he looks right now, sweat beading on his forehead, the way his pretty pink lips fall apart, like sins are spilling out of them. You roll your fist over the head and he keens. Mingyu sounds so good, you could get used to this. He groans, loud, pushing into your circled fingers like he’s desperate. You like how his chest heaves, all tight breaths and strangled half-formed noises. 

“I need– need–” 

“What do you need, baby?”

“Wanna be inside you,” he breathes. Pulls you down onto the bed, rolls on top to press a kiss to your sternum, and nudges your legs apart to slot between them. His cock slips against your cunt, still wet from his fingers. Reaches over to fish a condom from the pocket of his jeans (how presumptuous!) and tears the packet with his teeth (hot). “This okay?” he says, as he rolls it on. 

“Yes. Yeah. Be gentle, okay?” Embarrassing times a million.

Mingyu’s eyes go soft. Ew. 

“I’m always gentle.”

He is. The stretch hurts but he’s slow with it. Gives you a second to adjust, to angle your hips just right, before he moans, tells you you’re beautiful, that you feel so fucking good around him. He braces himself above you, slides into you so agonisingly beautifully deep you think you can feel him in your stomach. A moan escapes you, “Feels good, Gyu,” you whisper, and Mingyu swears. 

“You’re so tight,” he gasps.

“Pretty sure a cave would feel tight for you,” you laugh. Mingyu’s cock jolts inside you. “You’ve got the Hubble Telescope for a dick.”

“Please stop saying weird things,” he begs, and slips out just to slide back in. Pushes the air right out of your lungs. You forget to blink. Mingyu takes your broken cry and your nails digging crescent moons into his arms for the praise it is, and fucks you like you need him. His hands hold your thighs, rubbing slow circles into the skin with his thumbs, pulling them up around him to give him better access to your centre. Lets you hold on to him just to anchor yourself, almost lost to the pressure of your building release. 

Mingyu is so good at kissing. He nudges your cheek with his nose, bites open mouthed and wet at your jaw, presses one���two kitten kisses at the seam of your lips before he’s licking into your mouth, all soft lips and sensuality and tongue. He whines into your mouth as he fucks you, gasps desperately when you clench. His fingers are splayed across your body, touching everywhere he can reach with his huge hands, cups your breasts and moves to pull a nipple between teeth and grins lazy when you whimper, when you arch into it. 

He’s starting to fall apart now. Stuttered breaths and hasty thrusts, chasing your heat and his own release. God you wished he’d come inside you. He looks so pretty when he’s desperate. Eyebrows raised and eyes wide and mouth open. “Gonna come?” you ask. He nods with fervour. “Make me come again first.”

Mingyu doesn’t waste time. Loves a challenge, it seems. He pulls out without warning, leaving you empty and pulsing around nothing, fists his hand around his cock and thumbs off the condom as he dives between your legs to eat you out like a man starved. It’s embarrassing how wet you are. How he has you coming apart faster than you expect, how the way he sucks on your clit has you seeing stars. “C’mon, baby, show me how you come,” he groans between licks. “M’not gonna last.” 

His free hand teases at your clit, slips further to gather up the wetness on his fingers just to take it and run it over his cock. Fuck that’s so hot. He watches your mouth fall open, he’s all doe-eyed and too sweet for the moment, and you think he really must kill people, but by accident probably. He hums as he licks into you again, your fingers find purchase in his hair, pulling him against you tight and desperate and needy, and then his tongue flicks over your clit fast fast fast and you’re gone. Coming fast and hard, and he’s moaning at the taste of you, at the wetness pooling between your legs and soaking through the mattress. Mingyu’s done for too, “baby, you look so good,” he’s cooing, sitting up on his calves and bucking into his own hand and spilling his cum over your body. Spreads the mess over the soft skin of your stomach and tells you you look so pretty. 

God. You’re ruined. Upon your headstone will read death by softboy (with monster cock.)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging so my fic can get seen outside my own little space <3 i love seeing your feedback. if you'd prefer to scream at me directly, feel free to send me a message <3

[multiversediaries]

LOVE BRUISES

⤷ BUCKY BARNES X READER

Summary: A passionate night with Bucky caused a painful cervix bruise. Now all healed up, your boyfriend is scared to hurt you again.

Warning: soft and very cute, domestic buck! mentions of sex, small smut!

Part count: 1/2

A/N: hope you all enjoy! i absolutely adore domestic buck <3 apologies for any mistakes! english is not my first language :( i recently had eye surgery so my vision is a bit impaired! please do let me know of any grammatical mistakes!!

Your eyes widen at the intense pain you were currently feeling. A curse slipped from your lips, as you tried sitting on your shared bed. It was the day after an intense night with your long time boyfriend, Bucky Barnes.

Bucky could be rough at times, not that you hated it. In the contrary, you would find yourself begging the Winter Soldier to touch you, and pound you harder. But it seems like yesterday was too much for you to handle.

You made your way towards your bathroom, trying to continue on with your day. But the awful pain in your back and abdomen was driving you absolutely inside.

Samuel leaned back into his chair, staring at you, as you walked into the living room. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the way you were walking.

“You good?” Sam chuckled, crossing his arms infront of his chest. You shot him an annoyed look, shaking your head. You walked up to the couch, attempting to sit down without hurting yourself even more. “Rough night?” Sam teased you, raising an eyebrow at you. You snickered at him, knowing he probably heard you both last night. You remember how loud you were, not that your sore throat was any reminder.

“Too rough, it seems.” You replied, biting your lip. It was embarrassing to talk about this with Sam, but you were all so close to each other.

“No shit.” Sam laughed, throwing his head back whilst laughing still. You shook your head softly, furrowing your eyebrows, feeling a bit nauseous now. Sam’s laughter soon died down, as he saw your pained expression. “Oh, shit.”

“I’m fine! I swear.” You started, waving your arms in front of you, to try and stop Sam from panicking. “Bucky’s just… a big man, y’know? And we can get pretty… Let’s just say it was bound to happen.” You blushed at your own words. Bucky was much bigger than you, in height and built.

“I think I should get checked up, though. Pain’s pretty bad.” You continued, trying to change the conversation. You didn’t want to talk about your sex life to Bucky’s best friend. Sam sat up straight, biting his lip in worry.

“Shit, maybe he bruised you.” Sam said softly. This was probably it. It happens all the time, but this was your very first time experiencing something like this. You sighed softly, nodding your head.

“Do you mind distracting Buck while I go? Don’t want him to worry about this.” You asked.

“Oh, that ain’t gon’ work. Don’t you know the man?” Sam shook his head, knowing how overprotective Bucky was with you.

“Oh, come on, Sam. I won’t be long, just distract him—“

“Distract me from what?” You heard the man of the hour say softly. You closed your eyes, biting your bottom lip. Great. You slowly turned to look at him, staring at his serious expression. A smile instantly appeared in your lips, being so whipped for your boyfriend. His expression softened by your sweet face, now walking closer to you in the couch.

“Nothing. Just wanna get checked up really quick.” You said gently, trying to avoid certain words to prevent any worry from him. However, he knew you like the back of his hand, and he knew you were hiding something from him.

“Checked up? For what?”

“Oh, just—”

“She’s sore.” Sam started, your eyes widen quickly before quickly turning to look at Sam, your eyes begging him to shut up. “From last night.” He continued, and you couldn’t help but sigh, Bucky’s eyes widen, quickly meeting yours. He took in the sight of you, as if looking for discomfort and pain.

“What?— Did I hurt you, doll?” Bucky’s voice softened, his hands cupping your face, now kneeling in front of you. You could’ve sworn you almost melted into your seat.

“No, Buck, of course not!” You started, shaking your head, your hands laying on top of his in your face. You genuinely didn’t want him to worry or even worse, blame himself. You heard him sigh, knowing deep inside you were lying. He could feel your tense muscles; probably from the pain.

“I’ll take you to the clinic, okay?” He continued to softly speak to you. You sighed gently as his loving hands left your face to gently caress your thigh.

Cervical bruising.

God, it was extremely embarrasing to hear your doctor explain how to practice safe sex right in front of your long term partner. You remember how awkward the drive home was. Silent. Not uncomfortable, you could never be uncomfortable with Bucky, but you could just tell he felt terrible for overworking you that night.

Nights have passed awfully slow. You felt restless. Probably because your usually, very physically loving boyfriend rarely touched you. It was as if Bucky was somewhat scared of hurting you with his touch. Scared that a single caress could break you. The first nights, he even went as far as making a wall out of your extra pillows, just to be extra sure he wouldn't roll over you or embrace you at night. You ensured him it was not necessary, but after the advices of your doctor to hopefully ease your pain, Bucky was adamant to your safely and comfort. Bucky even went as far as getting you a heating pad, as your doctor explained how it would help with the pain. He just wanted you to be safe and healthy.

Bur you only craved the touch of your gentle soldier. For these endless couple of nights, Bucky would shower before bed, as usual, and hop into his side of the bed. He'd place a sweet, awfully short peck to your lips, roll on his side and fall asleep. It started to hurt your feelings how he seemed to rest so well without hugging you through the night. Soon enough, a couple of nights had passed since your small, and embarrassing injury. You felt as if you were going insane. You weren't only craving the sweet embrace of your man at night, you were also so incredibly horny.

You felt like a teenager, getting excited by the single sight of Bucky resetting his metal arm, or by the way his necklace would dangle over your face whenever he would help you to bed. It was the smallest things that would just get you going. You were currently watching as Sam and Bucky continued to fix Sam's family boat, standing by a pole, gently leaning on it. Bucky was wearing a short sleeve grey t-shirt, that accentuated his muscles perfectly. It brought butterflies to your stomach as Bucky noticed your frame, his attention now on his beautiful girl.

"Wait inside, baby. Don't want you to stand in the sun like that." Bucky spoke, a bit loud for you to hear. You smiled at him, shaking your head.

"It's okay! I'm a bit bored inside... Anything I can help with?"

"Yeah, actually! Grab that-"

"Sam." Bucky leaned over to softly slap Sam's chest. "No. She's supposed to be resting.' He continued, earning a small groan to leave your lips. Sam chuckled, raising his arms up in defense. Bucky wiped his greasy hands, walking towards you right after. "Doctor's orders." He said, his voice stern yet so incredibly loving, as if he were still worried. "I'll get you a chair, mhm? You can watch us or somethin." He mumbled, planting a sweet kiss to your cheek, before walking away. You let out a big sigh, closing your eyes in annoyance.

"Doctor's orders, he said." Sam mocked, a smirk in his face. A small grin appeared on your lips as you heard him mock your overprotecting boyfriend.

"I'm okay now. It happened almost two weeks ago and he's still..." You started, walking a bit closer to Sam. It was true. You felt all back to normal, and had been feeling this way for a few days now. No pain, no discomfort. You just felt needy.

"Y’know he's all intense like that." Sam said, offering you a small smile, while still working on the boar. You nodded, shrugging your shoulders. Bucky was just very overprotective over you, you knew this. It wasn't out of character for him to act this way. But now that you were all healed, you couldn't help but feel a bit bad, a bit unwanted even.

You spent the entire day, sitting, watching them work. Whenever you'd try to help, your sergeant of a boyfriend would order you back to your seat. You were only allowed to do small work, like hold their tools, which was exactly what you were doing right now. Here you stood, by the first floor of the boat, holding a screw driver as Bucky tried to fix the motor. You were so incredibly bored, but your mind was definitely active, dirty thoughts filling your mind. His grey shirt was now wet, and stained. It hugged his body even better than before.

"You okay, doll?" Bucky chuckled as he watched you, watching him. He had noticed a while ago, yet had decided to not mention it, loving your gaze on him. Your cheeks flushed, nodding your head.

"You look good." You simply said, your ears turning red. embarrassed by being caught staring. There was just so much tension between you, sexual tension.

"Yeah?" Bucky cockily asked, tilting his head, to follow your eyes as you tried hiding your flushed expression. He had even placed his tools down, now fully entertaining you. You nodded your head, now staring into his eyes, giggling softly. Your laugh died very quickly now swallowing hard as you took in how close he was.

His hands took their place in your hips. He felt you shake at his touch, noticing his effect on you. His face so close to yours, you could feel his breathing by your cheek. Bucky licked his lips, his eyes roaming your entire body, fully checking you out. His breath hitched, watching you be so visibly affected by him. It was so obvious how both of you were so deprived of one another.

You don't even remember who started the kiss. You just know your hands were now tangled in his soft hair, as Bucky devoured your mouth. There was no point in stopping the moans and whimpers that left your mouth, you were in pure bliss. Your tongues continued to explore each other's mouth, kissing passionately. Bucky would pull away for air, hissing in between kisses, genuinely feeling as if he were going insane. He was desperate. So desperate that his hands lifted you up, sitting you down on the same motor he had been trying to fix earlier. He now stood between your legs, his hands cupping your head, kissing you deeply and lovingly.

"Oh, baby..." Bucky whimpered once he pulled away for air yet again. Both your chests rising up and down, already exhausted by your very heated make out session. Bucky's hands ran ro your thighs, gently rubbing them continiously. His eyes were closed, and his forehead stayed glued to yours. Your eyes opened, missing the feeling of his lips on yours, needing more of him. You hummed, in confusion, yet Bucky's eyes stayed closed, wetting his lips. He seemed to be containing himself. His hands on your thighs now squeezing them, trying to calm him eager and lust down. You could simply tell he was holding back from loving you.

No.

You connected your lips yet again, grabbing ahold of his shirt, and crashing your lips together, where they belonged. You refused to go down without a fight. You refused to let him get away. A moan left his lips, his hands starting to run to your waist, needing to feel you yet again. It felt so good, so right. Your heads continued to tilt, allowing each other access ro just eat each other's lips. You remember his tongue brushing over your bottom lip, God, it was all so messy. Goosebumps cpvered your entire skin, this was his effect on you. This heaven of yours was adrumptedly interrupted yet again. Bucky has disconnected your lips, his hands now gripping your thighs yet again.

"Y/N..." his breath shuttered. God, he was so desperate and you knew this. You knew him like the back of your hand, and you could just tell by the way he refused to meet your eyes that he was holding back. You could tell by the way his body seemed to not want to obey his words, still caressing you.

"No, doll. We…” Buck tried saying, one of his hands now running through his face, as shaky breaths left his mouth. He was long gone. It was taking everything in him. “Shit, we can’t.”

"What?"

Bucky looked up to meet your eyes, his hands now on your waist, caressing your exposed skin with his thumbs. He sighed shakily, trying to get his breathing under control. He was scared to hurt you again. He was scared he'd lose control like he had done last tine, and hurt you. You gulped as you watched him, searching for a response in his face.

"Can hurt you again, baby. You haven't even healed."

"Bucky..." Your hands now laid on top of his. "I'm all healed up! I promise." You started, earning a few shakes of his head. "Yes, Buck. It hasn't hurt for a while now."

Bucky simply shook his head yet again. A big sigh left his lips, as he now hid his face in the comfort of the crook of your neck. Your arms carefully wrapped around his broad shoulders, feeling your loving boyfriend leave soft, wet kisses on your sweet skin. You couldn't stop yourself from shuttering at the gesture. Only after a few seconds, Bucky leaned back, pecking your red lips just one more time, before helping you down to your feet. He took a deep breath, and long look at you, before turning back to continue his work on the motor. The motor he almost took you on top of just now.

You frowned deeply, your head almost dropping in defeat. You put your hair in a ponytail, feeling hot after everything that had just happened. You wanted to be mad, really, you did. But how could you? When this man loved you so much he kept holding himself back in fears of possibly hurting you? You were just... upset. How would you convince this man of yours you had healed? and that he could never hurt you?

"I'm 'bout to come down." You both heard Sam announce from above. You both chuckled at Sam, shaking your head softly. Bucky grinned widely, watching as Sam came down the stairs cautiously.

“Why are you the way you are?” Bucky said between chuckles, grabbing a hold of his tools yet again.

"Y'all are forbidden from doin' it inside my family boat, I hope y'all know that." Sam mumbled, walking towards the both of you. Bucky snickered, softly hitting him in the shoulder. You laughed a bit, leaning back and watchihg them work.

Your mind soon went back to the same question...

How would you take those negative thoughts out of the mind of James Barnes? When would you feel the loving touch of your boyfriend again?

Fucking cervix bruise.

[bunnis-monsters]

anxious virgin puppy that you have to guide and reassure the whole time??? and he’s nervous because he’s never knotted before? just, nervous puppies that want to please are SO cute and delicious. bonus if he cums multiple times and didn’t know he could.

(also your bee fics have AWOKEN something in me but i have no clue what to even ask for lol, they’re just so good!!!)

LATE NIGHT RESPONSE AFTER I’VE TAKEN A MUSCLE RELAXER LOL LETS SEE HOW THIS GOES

His hips stutter as he fucks into you, his hand gripping yours tightly. “L-like this?”

The poor pup is tearing up, his tail wagging furiously as he tries his best to do exactly what you want. It feels so damn good he’s losing his mind, and he can already feel his knot beginning to swell.

No, no, no! What if he hurts you? What if the stretch is painful or he tries to pull out by mistake?

A nervous yip leaves his throat, and before he can fully submit to his panic, you coo and pull him into a kiss.

“Shh, shh, baby… it’s okay, just let it all out… it’ll feel good for both of us, sweet thing…”

And he just can’t take it anymore! He helps as his knot swells, his hands clawing at the bed to try and get a grip while he stretches you out.

While it feels amazing, his body is in a state of shock as he experiences his first orgasm, his puppy tail twitching. The poor thing finally calms down, looking up at you through his thick, pretty eyelashes.

“Thank you…”

And, of course, you give him a kiss on his forehead.

[yanderedrabbles]

Speaking of the yandere outlaws, how would “the boy” behave when he finally earned the right to have the girl fully? Maybe after he catches her trying to escape and brings her back like you said.

Yandere Outlaws- The Boy/Betrayal

The boy exists in this in-between sort of space where I think he can be easily influenced.

He realises just as well as the others that holding you hostage is an awful, terrible thing. He recognises that you don't want this. And I think he's the only one who's truly guilty about it.

The gunslingers shrug it off. They wanted you, so they took you. Easy as that. The boss has done much worse in his life. What difference does one missing girl make? Even the wrangler and the second in command go against their better instincts with only a flicker of guilt.

The boy though? There's still a little innocence in him. A sense of justice stronger than the others. The question is - can he hold onto it?

I see the two of you getting along at first, maybe even getting friendly. You pity him - he's a victim too, a kid who got roped into something much bigger than he could handle.

He's the one who brings you most of your meals. Head down, sneaking glances at you from under his hair. He doesn't talk much at first, doesn't even stick around to watch you eat. Just leaves the plate on your vanity and hurries out of the room.

Maybe one day it gets too much for you. Maybe one day you ask him to stay.

He freezes, hand already on the doorknob.

"You want me to stay? Why?"

You shrug, not sure how to articulate it. Not sure if you want to address the ugly truth that both of you feel hovering. Eventually, "I guess I just want someone to talk to."

"Oh."

Maybe he comes a little closer, sits on the edge of your bed. Still not looking at you.

You push the food around on your plate.

"This is good. Who made it?"

"Oh, umm, I did."

"You're the one who does the cooking?"

"Mm-hmm. The others are too busy with work I guess. And you don't want them to cook for you."

"Why's that?"

He wrinkles his nose. "Their cooking is awful."

And that's how it goes. Snippets of conversation really. A few moments stolen between wrangling horses and learning to shoot straight. A few moments where he sits on the edge of your bed and you both pretend that your thighs aren't bruised with fingerprints.

Maybe you come to trust him. Maybe you think that just because he doesn't look at you like the other outlaws, that he doesn't want what they want.

A mistake. But you're too naive to realise it.

I think things finally change on one of those icy, stormy nights. Most of the outlaws are out on a job, and it's just the boy, the boss and you.

It's a cold night, devil cold, the rain sheeting down so hard you can barely hear anything over it.

Maybe one of the outlaws leaves your door unlocked or maybe you manage to climb out the window, rain soaking straight through your chemise. Either way, you make it to the stables without anyone seeing you.

You're shivering, your chemise clinging to your waist and practically see-through from the water. But you don't care. This is the closest you've come to escape and you aren't going to let the chance slip by.

There are only two horses in the stable. The boss's mean old mustang, and the boy's chestnut colt. Between the two of them, it's hardly a choice. You've got the bridle on the boy's horse and you're just about to reach for the saddle when someone grabs you.

They yank you backwards, startling out a short scream. Your back thuds against the wall and a hand slaps across your mouth.

"Shhh," the boy hisses, "The boss will hear you."

He's warmer than you and still dry.

"You're running away."

You nod hesitantly, his hand still pressed against your mouth. His face is blank. You can't read anything in his eyes.

"You're cold. You aren't dressed for the weather. You'll die of exposure before you make it home."

You shake your head. Anything is better than being a stress doll for a bunch of outlaws, how can't he see that?

He stays like that for a long while, his hand on your mouth keeping you pinned against the wall. The lantern light makes his eyes seem darker - the pupils wide, black as oil.

He sighs, and you realise he's made the decision for you. You're not escaping tonight.

"I know you hate it here, but you'll die if you try and ride out tonight."

He doesn't give you time to reply. Just grabs your wrist and drags you out and across the yard. You plead with him. Beg. Say that anything in the world is better than this.

But the rain is coming down heavy and he doesn't hear you. Or at least that's what he tells himself.

The kitchen door slams open and he pulls you in, both of you soaking wet. You might have said more, tried to reason with him again.

But the boss is waiting for you.

Standing in the half-dark between the kitchen and the hall, his revolver gleaming dully.

"Thought you mighta done something reeaall stupid, boy."

His voice is low, rough around the edges. A wolf learning to speak.

The boy is just as frozen as you are. It takes a few false starts before he can spit the words out.

"No, sir."

"You caught our filly right before she slipped the lasso I see."

"Yes, sir."

The boss moves toward you then, the light finally showing his eyes. That cool blue about as bright and dangerous as lightning.

He grabs your jaw, hard. Pulls you up on your toes so your lips almost brush his.

"Awful big storm for such a little girl."

The boy is still holding your wrist and looking at the floor, his hair blocking his face. He doesn't intervene.

"You coulda broken your neck, tryin' to ride in weather like this."

The boss leans closer, warm lips brushing your cheek. His voice is low enough for just you to hear.

"I'd be real heartbroken to lose you darlin'. You ain't gonna put an old man through such pain, are you?"

His grip tightens on your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks. You know instinctively that the next time he comes to visit your room, he isn't going to be quite so nice. He isn't going to keep holding himself back.

"No, sir." Your voice is less than a whisper.

"Good."

He pulls back and smiles at you. Pats your cheek with small, rough smacks. He calls back to the kid, never looking away from you.

"Our girl is chilled straight through, boy. Why don't you warm her up?"

The boy is tense. You can feel it in the way he holds you, can see it in the set of his shoulders.

"Yes, sir."

He starts walking again, pulling you along behind him.

You wait until you're out of earshot, about halfway up the stairs. You say the boy's name, and maybe he hears some of the fear in your voice because he stops. One hand on the bannister and one still around your wrist.

"The boss is going to -"

"You shouldn't have tried running then."

His voice is harder than you've ever heard it.

"You're...you're my only real friend," he continues. "The only person I can really talk to. Some of the others aren't so bad, but they still think of me as just a kid."

His grip tightens on your wrist.

"You were going to leave without even saying goodbye to me."

He starts walking again, dragging you behind him. The door to your room is ajar, and all you can see is a crack of darkness, broken by the occasional flash of lightning.

"The gunslingers were right," he says, half to himself. "If you want something, you should take it."

Your heart stutters. What does he mean by that?

He stops in front of your bedroom, one hand on the doorknob. He turns to you and you finally get to see his face. His hair is dripping water down his temples and between his brows, making him look as bristly as a coyote.

There's something different about his eyes, about the way he looks at you. Like something in him has finally worn away.

You feel your whole body going cold.

He looks at you just like the other outlaws do. That spark of lust, mixed with a callous cruelty.

He doesn't seem like a boy anymore. Doesn't seem like a colt just growing into its legs, eyes all wide and sweet.

It doesn't matter that he's younger than you. In the half-dark, with the rainwater dripping off your clothes, he finally seems like a man. A man just like the others. With the strength and the will to take what he wants, regardless of whether or not you say yes.

A man who will take what he wants. Who's going to take it tonight.

And as he pulls you into the room, grip like iron around your wrist, you realise exactly what the boss was implying when he told the kid to warm you up. 

[rafesgreasycurtainbangs]

Rafe catching you applying for more higher level jobs after the incident with telling Ward you’re pregnant

you don’t have to prove anything to me - rafe cameron

series masterlist

content: ward (ew.), pregnancy related stress, pregnant!reader, emotional distress, family conflict, self doubting

au: love writing these. keep the asks coming!

word count: 689

Rafe wasn’t stupid. He might’ve acted impulsively sometimes, let his temper get the best of him, but when it came to you—he noticed everything. That’s why, when he stepped into the bedroom that night and saw you curled up on the bed, laptop open, brows furrowed in focus, something in his chest tightened. You looked determined. Too determined. And that’s when he saw it—the email drafts, the open job applications, the résumés lined up on your screen like a desperate, last-minute attempt at control.

His stomach dropped. He didn’t say anything right away, just leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you, waiting for you to notice him. It took a moment, but then your fingers slowed on the keyboard, and you sighed, rubbing at your temples before glancing over. The second your eyes met his, you stiffened. “Rafe,” you breathed, snapping the laptop shut like you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

His lips twitched, not in amusement, but in something softer, something sadder. “Something you wanna tell me?” You hesitated, eyes darting away. “It’s nothing.” “Doesn’t look like nothing,” he countered, nodding toward your laptop. “Looks like a whole lot of job applications for positions you swore you weren’t interested in just a couple of months ago.” You swallowed hard. “I just… I just want to be prepared, that’s all.” “For what?” His voice wasn’t harsh, but it was firm. Steady. “Baby, we don’t need more money. You don’t need to prove anything.” Your throat tightened. “It’s not about that.” Rafe pushed off the doorframe, walking toward you slowly, carefully, like he was approaching something fragile. Maybe he was. “Then what is it about?” he murmured, sinking onto the edge of the bed, close enough to touch you, but not yet reaching out. He needed you to tell him first. You exhaled shakily, fingers curling into the blankets.

“Your dad.” Rafe’s jaw clenched. “I just—” You sucked in a sharp breath, shaking your head. “He made me feel small, Rafe. Like I wasn’t good enough. Like I was just… some girl who made a mistake. And I know I shouldn’t let it get to me, but I can’t stop hearing his voice in my head, and—” Your breath hitched. “I don’t ever want to feel like that again. Like I have to prove that I deserve to be in this family. That I deserve to have this baby with you.”

Rafe was silent. Not because he didn’t care. Because he cared too much. Because he knew exactly what it was like to live under the weight of his father’s expectations, to feel like no matter what you did, it would never be enough. And now, Ward had made you feel like that too. Something inside him burned. He reached for you then, cupping your face, his thumbs brushing softly over your cheeks. “Listen to me,” he said, voice low, almost rough with emotion. “You don’t have to prove anything to him. Or to anyone. You are enough—more than enough. For me, for this baby… for everything.”

You swallowed thickly, blinking up at him. His grip tightened, not harsh, but firm. Grounding. “I don’t care what he thinks,” Rafe continued. “I don’t care if he never comes around. I chose you. You are the mother of my child. And there is not a single doubt in my mind that you are exactly where you’re meant to be.” Your breath shuddered. “But what if—” “No,” Rafe cut in, shaking his head. “No what ifs, baby. Not with this.” Your eyes were glassy now, the weight of his words pressing into your chest. Rafe exhaled sharply before pulling you into his arms, wrapping himself around you like he could shield you from every cruel word, every doubt, every fear. “You’re everything to me,” he murmured against your hair. “And I swear to you, I won’t let anyone make you feel less than that again.” You buried your face in his chest, your fingers gripping onto his shirt like a lifeline. And for the first time since that conversation with Ward, you felt safe.

[justalittlespore]

The last time I DMed for a group of people, I had just a bit of experience from many years prior, and most of them had no experience at all. But I'd built a whole world and loose story and was excited to share it with people, so I got this group together to give it a shot.

I made the mistake of having them start out as strangers, with a grand plan to bring them together as a group. You see, I was under the misapprehension that, having agreed to play this game, they were interested in the world and story I'd set up, and would therefore take the hooks I laid for them and find reasons to work together. Because I was a fool.

When they made their characters, I asked them to fill in some basic info for me, including someone important from their life (who was still living), their greatest goal in life, and what their character's main motivation would be to go on an adventure.

Half the players tried to treat the game like a single-player sandbox video game and got frustrated and accused me of railroading them when I asked them to please not run alone into the woods in the very first scene when the characters have all just met and been given a reason to work together. At the first sign of any kind of danger, one player would simply say "my character is a coward so he would run away" and refuse to take part in anything.

One player specified in my questionnaire that his character thought himself very wise (a devoutly religious monk, in fact), but was actually very foolish, and was the type to get drawn in by get-rich-quick schemes. So I prepared a hook to draw him into the plot involving an NPC trying to sell him on a get-rich-quick scheme... which he promptly refused to engage with because he'd decided that actually his character was too zen to be tempted with worldly possessions.

When I began to get exasperated, several of the players pointed out that a good DM like Brennan Lee Mulligan never seemed to have any trouble adapting to what players wanted to do. They were unreceptive to my counter points that 1) that is his entire job, which he is paid for, and 2) his players are skilled improvisers and all actively working together to tell the best story possible.

I feel I should note that at this time, all of us in this group were in our 30s. And not, say, 14-year-olds who you might expect this entitled attitude from.

After a few sessions of desperately trying to keep the characters in the game at all without totally railroading them, I asked everyone to please watch a couple specific episodes of Adventuring Academy with Brennan Lee Mulligan which were about how to be a good player so that everyone has the best possible experience. I had already told them that I was spending literally 8 hours per week planning these sessions and trying to find ways to keep things going and keep together a group of people who desperately wanted to be brooding loners, and I promised them bonus XP at the start of the next session if they would just watch one or two of these videos.

At the start of the next session, one player proudly announced that he hadn't watched the videos, and that he wouldn't, no matter how I tried to bribe him, because he didn't think that being a player in a tabletop roleplaying game should come with homework.

When reminded (again) that I was spending 8 fucking hours a week planning these sessions, for which I was not being compensated in any way, and which he was making harder, he shrugged and said that it was my idea to start this campaign, so it was up to me to keep it going, and keep the players interested enough to keep showing up.

I don't DM anymore.

D&D 5e supposedly has a GM shortage and idk maybe if the player culture of the game didn't treat GMing as a thankless job and the rules of the game as an issue to be fixed by the GM maybe things would be better. Ah well, who knows. Maybe a couple hundred more "we ruined the GM's campaign on purpose" memes will make people enjoy running the game better.

[frownyalfred]

“I wish you could take kudos back.” Ugh. Putting aside the whole anti bullshit about this, and how they want to use kudos as implicit bullshit approval for things that aren’t “problematic”, here’s a scenario for you:

You’re walking down the street and see a girl wearing a cute backpack. You like the backpack, so you decide to wave at her and say “Hey! I like your backpack!”

The girl looks at you, smiles, and holds up the backpack. Upon second glance, as she holds it up, you realize the backpack isn’t actually a backpack. It’s one of those weird laptop bags with the straps that you can extend and wear in different ways.

This isn’t what you expected at all. You were complimenting her on the backpack, but this clearly isn’t a backpack. It was an honest mistake though! That being said, you don’t like laptop bags very much. Maybe you have an aversion to computers because they remind you of working, which is very valid.

1) do you take back what you initially said?

2) do you chase after the girl and inform her that you meant to compliment her backpack, and not her laptop bag, and she needs to know that?

3)or do you go on your way, knowing that it wasn’t quite what you had intended to say/do, but that’s okay?

You continue on through life complimenting people on their backpacks because it’s the nice thing to do, and you can’t ask every single person to show you their bag before you give them a compliment.

One day, a likeminded friend tells you “Ugh, I can’t believe you complimented her on her backpack.” You ask them why. “Well, I heard she also likes laptop bags.”

You puzzle over this for a moment before you reach the conclusion that complimenting the backpack was fine, and maybe you might not compliment her on the laptop bag if you see her wearing it, but that doesn’t mean you want to take back the backpack compliment. Or that you stop telling everyone that you liked their backpack in the first place, just in case they also like laptop bags.

(If you left kudos for a fic and it either wasn’t what you thought it was, you feel guilty, you feel ‘problematic’, or you’re worried someone will see your name and give you grief — don’t. This has been a PSA)

[81pastrys]

Can I request Lando or Oscar daughter having skin to skin time when they’re daughters first born? Maybe they get hungry and mistake dad for mom’s chest for food?

First Born

Summary— Lando misses the Monaco Grand Prix for the birth of Mila

Warnings— birth ; mention of boobs

A/N— what did I say earlier? Oh yeah we’re going backwards in time 😭

The Monaco Grand Prix weekend got cut short for Lando. His wife’s water broke on their way to the track. Lando whipped his car in a U to make his way to the hospital instead of the track and called Zak. “Pato is there yeah?” He asked. “Good she’s going into labor.”

She had whined the entire ride there. When they got to the hospital, he wheeled her into the labor and delivery floor and got settled in. He had held her hand and put her in the weird positions suggested to ease the pain.

She groaned and moaned at the pain as it subsided most of the time. The best position was him holding her hips as tight as he could when she bent over the bed. The pain of him holding her hips helped ease the pain in her abdomen. “You’re doing amazing love, am I hurting you?” He would ask and reassure her.

“No, it feels better!” She would say calmly pained. “Fuck, when can I push?” She whined after a particularly harsh contraction passed. The doctor had come in and said Lila still wasn’t ready. She groaned and Lando distracted her.

“It’s okay love, I’m right here.” He reminded, as he pushed hair behind her ear. “You’re beautiful you know that?” He had kissed her forehead and the pain started again. He helped her up to walk around as the pain made her crumble forward. He caught her as to not let her fall. “You’re okay, look at me, you’ve got this.” He’d say and help through the agonizing pain.

Finally the doctor said It was time to push and Lando held her hand. He realized it wasn’t enough and got on the bed sitting behind her. He held both her hands and whispered sweet praises in her ear as she screamed.

“It’s almost over love, you hear her crying?” He whispered after she’d pushed the final time. “It’s okay, I’m right here my love, just a little longer and it’ll go away.” She had finished giving birth for the first time and relaxed back into his body. He had wrapped his arms around her and she drifted into sleep in his arms.

The nurses whisked Lila away for newborn tests and her first bath. Lando made sure his wife had everything she needed to be comfortable. The nurses returned shortly after and asked if they wanted to hold her.

His wife took first dibs and let Lila lay comfortably in between her boobs. She sighed through tears of joy at her babygirl on her chest. The nurses helped her get Lila to latch so she could eat and when she was done, Lando got to hold her.

The nurse asked him to rid of his shirt and he did so before sitting in one of the chairs. She laid Lila on his chest and he felt so at ease with her.

“Look, my love, she’s got little curls.” He whispered to her. He smiled when Lila sighed. “You know I was the one who told you not to kick mama, huh?” He giggled a bit and Lila half smiled. They both melted at how cute she was.

“Lando, she has your eyes.” His wife mentioned. Lando looked up at his wife and she pointed to the half opened eyes of their daughter. The bright hazels eyes shining through.

“Carbon copy huh?” He smiled at his wife. He shifted his position a bit and Lila got hold of his nipple, lightly sucking on it. “Sweetheart, wrong parent.” He giggled before lightly moving her head off his nipple. It was the first time he called her sweetheart but it certainly was not the last.

This is absolutely adorable and I can’t believe I wrote it 🙂‍↕️

@il0vereadingstuff @kallanfiona

[22ayla21]

Hi! First of all I wanted to say that I love your stories. And i have a request as well.

I know how you already wrote about the Amphoreus trio’s reaction to their wife getting flirted with. But how about the opposite, because these men would have fan clubs no doubt. I’d think that the women would know they’re off limite but still, they’re hot. So like imagine a woman just starts to flirt with them while their wife is right there. Would she be used to it by now and let her husband take care of it or just give the woman a death stare/ tell her to fuck off(✨politely✨)

Quiet jealousy

How would his wife react when other girls hit on him.

She never doubts her husband. Mydei is not one of those who cast glances at others, especially when he has her. She knows that he is indifferent to other people's attention and does not tolerate obsession.

If a fan is too persistent, Mydei's wife does not make scenes. She will simply look at her with such a look that the latter will immediately lose the desire to approach. Without words, but extremely eloquently.

She does not even take them seriously. Someone can sigh languidly, looking at her husband, but at the end of the day, it is she who falls asleep in his arms.

If someone dares to go too far and try to touch Mydei, his wife will literally make the rival realize with one phrase ("Are you really that stupid?") that it was a huge mistake.

She does not experience fierce jealousy, but if she sees someone looking too admiringly into her husband's eyes, she can demonstratively take his hand, cuddle up to him, or even give him a kiss, just to show that this is her man.

He does not like fanatical attention. If he sees that his wife is even a little offended by it, he will definitely say something, making it clear that only she is important to him. He can even deliberately lean over and whisper something intimate to her, causing embarrassment and laughter.

Yes, if she really gets tired of someone, then her look will say more than any words. If the fan still does not get the hint - well, let him try to meet a woman who is not afraid to put even Mydei in her place.

The wife knows very well that despite his outward attractiveness and cold aristocratic appearance, Anaxa shows no interest in his fans. He is too rational to waste time on such people, and she understands this. So, jealousy? No, thank you.

If someone crosses the line of what is permitted, starts flirting or, God forbid, touching her husband, she is no longer so calm. Steel appears in her gaze, and an icy warning in her smile.

If someone is too persistent, the wife will not make a scene. She will simply look at the fan in such a way that she will want to disappear. These are not hysterics, not scandals - this is a calm, murderous look, after which the man immediately loses the desire to test her patience.

She does not need to prove anything. She is already his wife, they already have a family. Sometimes it's even funny for her to watch how some try to get his attention, not realizing that it's useless.

But if someone goes too far. For example, if someone decides to question their relationship or says something like "Anaxa's wife? I don't think he's worthy of just one woman...", she will act very decisively. And perhaps Anaxa will have to intervene before his wife sends someone to the hospital.

It's not about insecurity, but about territoriality. She doesn't doubt her husband, but if someone sticks his nose into her family too persistently, he gets a silent but very eloquent warning: "Go to hell."

And Anaxa? He rarely even notices these women. But he likes to see how his wife calmly puts them in their place. Sometimes he even smirks when she gives him another murderous look.

Once he asked her if she was jealous. She just shrugged: "Who could have you but me?" It was not a question, but a fact. And Anaxa agreed with this fact.

Phainon is charming, of course, but his wife is confident in his devotion. She doesn't waste her nerves on jealousy and simply chuckles when someone sighs for her husband.

But if someone goes too far... Admiration is one thing, and outright pestering is another. If some fan starts to behave too persistently, his wife will give her an icy look and calmly but firmly make it clear: "Try again - you'll regret it."

In public, she smiles, remains polite, but as soon as the fan goes too far, her smile becomes predatory: "Oh, you love my husband? How sweet. But, unfortunately, he's mine." She likes to watch Phainon's reaction when someone hits on him. He can play the role of a sweet and polite person, but she knows how much he gets offended by excessive attention, especially when he's married and has three kids.

She can approach Phainon, take his hand or even hug him when someone is staring at him too brazenly. Her look at this moment speaks for itself: "He's mine. Envy him silently." Sometimes he deliberately flirts a little (within the bounds of decency) to see how his wife will react. And when she looks at him with the expression "Are you serious?", he only smirks.

She understands perfectly well that he has his own army of fans, but in the end he always comes home only to her. She is not one of those who are jealous without reason, but if someone dares to seriously try to take her husband away, then the fan will very quickly understand that she has no chance.

In general, she does not worry about his popularity, but if someone is too brazenly pestering - her look says more than any words: "Step aside, girl, while I'm kind."

[chrollohearttags]

mini part 2 of love thy neighbor

something something..plug!sukuna finally getting comfortable enough to fuck his pretty little neighbor turned girlfriend like he means it (really wants to without holding back). He’s always pictured you as the daintiest, softest thing to ever exist. From the first day you guys met, there’s been this innate sense to protect you from any sort of danger. Especially the ones associated with his line of work…he knows you're cut from an entirely separate cloth than he is yet, you always try your best to fit into his world. Because of that, he tries his damndest to shield you from it. He never wants you to worry yourself with his problems or what he may be doing. Hell, he’d hate himself if you ever caught a glimpse of one of his transactions or got caught in a heated situation. Ryo has such a terrible habit of trying to soften things, despite the fact that you’ve told him how much his infantilizing bothered you.

“I’m just going to the store, I forgot flour..”

“That was just the delivery guy, had to meet him downstairs.”

dressing it up in flowery and honestly nauseating language. Make no mistake, you weren’t thrilled about his lifestyle by any stretch of the imagination. The violence and drugs wasn’t some turn on like portrayed on social media and trust, Jesus would come back before you ever partook. But you weren’t some exalted being that needed divine protection. You had been through so much already, this paled in comparison.Hence why one night, as the two of you were standing in the kitchen of your apartment..you’d confront him on it!

“What are you talking about? I don’t treat you like a kid, (y/n). I’m just tryna’ look out for you..damn.”

“I know that, Ryo. But you act like you can't even talk to me. Shit, you even speak in code. I’m not asking you to tell me all your business but don’t talk to me like I don’t know anything.”

perhaps, it would’ve been wise to stop the sentiments there but alas..you’d open up a can of worms you weren’t prepared for.

“I mean..you literally fuck me soft. Like you don’t want me to break or something.” And in that moment, something just clicked. As if everything you had said finally resonated and he understood. Mainly because you were suggesting that he couldn’t please you where it counted. Ryomen Sukuna was many things and being a prideful, snarky bastard was at the top of that list! And any notion challenging that had to be dispelled!

“I what? Did you just—“

“Look Ryo, just forget I said anything. It’s cool, I appreciate you looking out for me—“

but just as you went to turn heel in your silky robe, wine glass in hand..he’d spin you around until you were well in his clutches. That towering frame hulking over you with those toned muscles coiling you like a snake. You’d never felt smaller before in your life..

“Nah..you obviously had a lot on your mind, sweetheart. Speak up.” That once calm demeanor had obviously shifted to one that was seconds from coming unhinged and there truthfully wasn’t anything you could do to sate it.

without so much as breaking eye contact or that deviant smile that had crept upon his face, he’d plant a heavy smack against you before tugging you closer. It was apparent that he wasn’t going to back down nor did you want him to..to even admit something like that, you wanted more of him. And who was he to deny his beloved’s request?

“I said..speak up, sweetheart…”

muttering before he’d position you against the countertop and slide those tattooed fingers into the seat of your pantries. Stroking that clit before nipping at your neck, even bringing his opposite hand up to clutch it.

“I can’t hear you over how wet she is f’r me.” that menacing cackle rang out in your ear and caused your entire body to shudder in the process. It wasn’t long before he had you writhing around, whimpering and begging for him to stop teasing you. All the while, he was too busy ravaging every inch of that delicate skin. Leaving hickies where they shouldn’t have even been visible, hungrily lapping at your stiffened nipples and pumping two of those thick digits in and out of that tight cunt. You were a dripping, insatiable mess in a matter of no time!

“Y’know..I only held back because I thought you couldn’t handle it. But you’ve been holding out on me. Huh, sweet girl..look at you, about to come and I haven’t gotten started.”

“Okay, Ryoooo..fuck. I’m sorry, baby.”

he could sense that you were close but he wasn’t feeling nearly as generous tonight. You were going to eat those little words of yours. As you began slamming down on his hand, hoping to reach that orgasm; perfect tits bouncing and drool gliding down your chin from the sloppy, nasty kisses, it was snatched away in a matter of seconds. Your body reacted with a sudden jolt as if all the air had escaped your lungs. “Nah, you ain’t sorry yet, sweet girl. Turn that pretty ass around and bend over.” His instructions were very clear and yet it hadn’t registered that he was being aggressive. That was until he grasped the back of that curly hair, shoving you face down on the countertop and taking a fistful of that silky material into his palm. He’d pop your asscheeks once more, demanding that you spread them wider.

“Soft? I was being nice, baby..tryna be respectful..” seconds later, Ryo had slipped those sweats down to his ankles and his aching cock in his hand..stroking it before smacking it against your sensitive slit.

“But if you want me to treat you like one of my sluts, that’s no problem.”

Already seconds from coming undone, (y/n) nearly flew up from your spot when you’d feel that heavy shaft glide in and split you open. And how he’d normally begin with just the tip, you were met with three inches off the bat and you’d better be prepared to take all eight! Medium sporadic strokes turned to fast paced thrusting that led to you being jolted around as if you were weightless. A steady hand gripped your throat and fish hooked those same fingers that had gotten you warmed up into your jaw. Forcing you to balance on your tiptoes whilst that hard cock pounded you. His pace was rough, his movements were harsh but surprisingly…

“And look at you, you like that shit, don’t you? Like being called a slut…felt that pussy squeeze me when I said it.”

that was all but confirmed by the uncontrollable smiling and soft giggles emitted from your mouth. It may have been unbecoming of someone with your background but it felt too damn good! So much so, you had made a creamy mess of him and he craved it all. Bucking and snapping his hips, Ryo crossed his arms against the perimeter of your plump backside, wrangling that ass in whilst marking it with plenty of slaps. Each one makes you cry out for the next and scream his name.

“The fuck you waiting for..come on this dick, bitch. Don’t hold back now. Make a fucking mess. That’s what I make my whores do.” Having awoken something in him that had lied dormant since you came into his life. That veil had lifted and Ryo wasn't interested in playing it safe. He was going to make sure you’d be hooked just like one of his addicts.

“Oh my God—shit! I’m coming..” reaching back to rub your swollen clit until you exploded into a squirting mess all over the floor and you guys’ feet. “Goddamn..that fucking pussy feels good.” Yet, you weren’t getting a break anytime soon. It was right after that orgasm that he’d hastily spin you around, hoisting you into his grasp as he propelled you on his cock once more. At this point, that little hole was nothing more than a glorified flesh light..sucking him in and squelching all for his pleasure. Tears had begun to stream down to your face but that satisfied grin remained and he’d continue fucking his little doll brainless and utterly stupid until he felt himself pulsating.

“Cum in my pussy, daddy. Please!”

“Fuck that, I’m nutting in all these holes tonight. I got a lot to make up for.”

safe to say, you had awoken a monster!

[fixated-cookies]

im kinda thinkin about.... hypnosis and smilk.... smth abt the process specifically of taking over and invading your mind.. slowly giving into it even if youre resisting the effects its having on your mind, its inevitable that he'll win and you'll succumb to his control and influence over you... your mind may be foggy, but it's so perfectly empty and moldable now... what were you doing again? do you even care?

smth about being unable to look away from his eyes once he starts it; even if you look away, something will draw you back, and it gets stronger as it goes on... at first, you can physically turn away (though you'll get dragged back by some invisible force), but eventually you cant even rip your heard away from his gaze. smth about it being unable to be stopped by anyone other than himself once he starts it... no matter how far from you he is (as long as he's well... in sightline)

honestly you can like. think abt this in any context you want . i just.... really like the concept of hypnosis with him..... its captivating to me (hah) .... sorry for the essay in your inbox damn

Anon the reason why this was rotting in my askbox for so long was because I needed to give it justice hahaha, hypnosis is totally in character for someone like shadow milk cookie, and I love it.

WARNING- slight yandere, hypnosis

Hmm, I'm wondering how it would start, he would obviously make it a game, maybe a game of truth or dare, hm? Just a little bit of lollygagging to get rid of his boredom.

So, when he asked— “Truth or Dare?”—

You made the horrible mistake of choosing dare.

His grin widened, all teeth.“Ohhh, you’re feeling bold tonight! How delightful! Now, let’s see…” He tapped a finger against his chin, pretending to think. You should have been nervous. You should have backed out. But you didn’t.

I dare you… to look into my eyes and not look away.”

Simple, right?

You almost laughed. Thats its? Thats all?

"Ah-ah, don’t look so relieved~! There’s a catch, of course. You must hold my gaze until I say you can look away. Break eye contact, and you lose."

You scoffed. What was he playing at? You weren’t afraid of a staring contest. Getting into position you held yourself steady as he looked overly excited.

For a while, it felt like a normal challenge. You stared, he stared, and time stretched between you both. But then… something changed. The air felt thicker. Your body heavier. You blinked once. It felt like it took longer than it should have to open your eyes again. You swallowed. Something felt off.

Your limbs felt distant like you weren’t quite inside your body anymore. You tried to look away—But your head wouldn’t move. "I...I-" "Tsk, tsk… You’re not trying to look away, are you? Ohh, but I can see that dazed look in your eyes already… how precious!" He started to scoot closer. Not fast. Not abrupt. No, he took his time, savoring the way your body twitched ever so slightly. How your breath caught, your fingers tightening into trembling fists against the floor. Your head refused to move. Your body felt so distant, like a marionette with cut strings, a doll that could only watch as its puppeteer inched nearer.

Your vision wavered, the edges blurring as if reality itself was losing focus. His eyes were all you could see. How could this happen? you were so sure he didn't have...any malicious...intent—huh...? What was going on...?—No, you hadn’t! You had to resist, you had to—"Mmm, that’s a good look on you… so unfocused, so lost…" He suddenly interrupted your thoughts.

You blinked, but the action felt slow, heavy, like your body was moving through water. You knew—somewhere, deep down—that this was wrong. That you should snap out of it. But… that was so difficult. Thinking was… so hard. Your lips parted, but no words came out. Only a quiet, dazed sigh.

Shadow Milk Cookie smiled, only for it to falter as your eyesight ripped away from him violently, a frustrated groan escaping you as you squeezed your eyes shut out of defiance. "Oh? You still have some fight left in you?" His voice slithered through the air, a mocking lilt woven into his amusement. How predictable. How pathetic. Impossibly close now, his presence, looming, suffocating—but when his hands cupped your cheeks, you knew there was no escape. His palms were cool, but his grip was unyielding.

"Really now, I thought you were smarter than this." His thumbs trailed lower, brushing over your lips with featherlight strokes. "Oh, my dear, sweet fool…" His voice dipped into a breathy murmur, mismatched eyes drinking in every flicker of your resolve. "...I wonder... how long will that last?"

His grip on your cheeks tightened—just enough for his thumbs to press against your skin, coaxing you, urging you—until your lashes fluttered. A sliver of light slipped through.

And the moment your gaze met his—

The air in your lungs vanished. And oh, how he grinned.

"Mmm… there it is."

His voice was nothing but a purr, smooth and saccharine as he drank in your struggle. His grip softened, shifting to cradle your face so delicately—as if he hadn’t just crushed your resistance in the palm of his hand.

"Much easier when you don’t fight, isn’t it?"

His thumbs stroked your cheeks, his tone mocking, indulgent—but there was something darker beneath it. "Go on, little puppet…" His breath ghosted over your lips as his mismatched eyes pulled you deeper, deeper, deeper. "Be good for me, yeah?" He murmurs lowly Before you could even process it, his lips were on yours—slow, deliberate, consuming. A kiss meant to unravel, to claim. His fingers pressed gently into your skin, holding you there, grounding you— or perhaps, chaining you.

And when he finally pulled away, he didn’t need to command you to look at him this time.

Because you already were.

A single finger tapped lightly against your forehead as if to mock the emptiness settling in. His victory.

"See? Much better when you don’t think."

--

you guys, rate my hypnosis writing I need it!! These ideas are just sooo juicy.

[alaia777]

hi!!

do you know that tiktok sound where it’s like “give me a hug i need this” ?😭😭i was wondering if you could do that w the bllk boys. where reader is js being clingy and they are soo over it

RIN —

rin was sitting on the edge of the couch, as far away from you as possible. you’d been breathing down his neck all day, following him everywhere—even to the bathroom—begging him to let you hold his hand while he did his business. it was the first day in weeks that you both had off, and you were determined to make the most of it.

“you know what would really help me right now?” you said, tilting your head dramatically.

silence.

he didn’t even acknowledge you, staring straight ahead like if he just stayed still enough, you’d lose interest and leave him alone.

undeterred, you scooted closer, a teasing lilt in your voice. “if you were wondering, the answer is a hug.”

as soon as the words left your mouth, you reached for him, arms outstretched, but rin was quicker. he shifted away, pressing himself against the armrest like it would somehow swallow him whole.

“absolutely not,” he muttered, eyes narrowing as he shot you a wary glance.

but you weren’t giving up that easily. with a grin, you lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his waist before he could escape. he let out a sharp exhale, stiffening under your touch.

“just one,” you bargained, squeezing him tighter. “you act like i’m asking for a kidney.”

rin sighed, his muscles slowly relaxing, though you could still feel the reluctance radiating off of him. “feels like it,” he grumbled, but he made no effort to pull away.

BAROU —

barou was trying to clean the kitchen when you burst in out of nowhere, phone in one hand and a bag of chips in the other, leaning against the counter like you had all the time in the world. he was wiping down the stove, scrubbing at a spot like it personally offended him, his movements sharp and precise.

“you missed a spot,” you pointed out, taking a loud bite of your chips.

he shot you a glare, jaw clenching. “if you’re not gonna help, get out.”

you grinned, unfazed. “i am helping. moral support.”

you watched him for a moment before pushing off the counter, stepping closer with your arms wide open. “okay, break time. give me a hug.”

barou didn’t even look up, just shifted away slightly like he already knew what was coming. “no.”

“why not?” you frowned, taking another step toward him.

he finally glanced at you, eyes narrowing at the chip bag in your hand. “your fingers are greasy.”

“so?”

“so, i’m not letting you touch me with those disgusting hands.”

you gasped, dramatically pressing a hand to your chest. “disgusting? barou, that’s harsh.”

he rolled his eyes, turning back to what he was doing. big mistake. the second he looked away, you moved fast, arms reaching out to grab him.

“don’t even think about—”

too late. you wrapped yourself around him, laughing as he groaned in frustration. he immediately tried to pry you off, hands gripping your wrists as he attempted to push you away without actually shoving you.

“get off me—”

“just accept my love, king.” you teased, holding on tighter.

he sighed, shifting his weight in an attempt to shake you off. “you’re getting grease on me—”

“then you should’ve just hugged me from the start.”

he exhaled sharply, standing still for a second. then, before you could react, he grabbed your wrist and expertly spun you around, trapping your arms behind you.

“now what?” he muttered, voice low as he held you firmly in place.

you huffed, twisting in his hold but getting nowhere. “this is cheating.”

“this is self-defense.”

you glared at him over your shoulder, but instead of backing down, he smirked. “go wash your hands. then maybe i’ll think about it.”

reluctantly, you relented, but as you pulled away, you muttered, “you just wanted an excuse to hold my hands.”

barou scoffed, but the way he turned away just a little too quickly told you everything you needed to know.

NAGI —

nagi was hiding in the bathtub right now, waiting for the inevitable. you were supposed to be back any minute, and if history had taught him anything, it was that you’d come straight for him the moment you walked through the door.

not because you couldn’t survive a few hours without him—your life didn’t revolve around him or anything—but because after spending time out and about, socializing and dealing with the world, you liked to come home and recharge with the one thing that brought you comfort: clinging to him like a koala.

and nagi, despite how lazy he was, had long since learned that once you got a hold of him, there was no escape. he didn’t really mind, not when it was you, but he just wanted to finish his level first—because the second you found him, his phone was getting tossed aside, and he was spending the rest of the night being used as your personal pillow.

“nagi, i hope the reason why you’re in the bathroom with the lights off is because you’re saving the planet and not because you’re hiding from me,” you said, peeking inside.

he stayed completely still, like if he didn’t react, maybe you’d just leave. wishful thinking.

you sighed, stepping inside and climbing straight into the bathtub with him, ignoring the way he groaned in defeat. settling against his side, you rested your head on his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist like this was the most normal thing in the world.

“seriously?” he muttered, shifting slightly but making no real effort to push you away.

“yep,” you replied, getting more comfortable. “this is your fault for trying to hide.”

he exhaled heavily but didn’t argue, already knowing resistance was useless. his game would have to wait—because now, trapped under your warmth, with your fingers lazily tracing shapes on his side, he realized he didn’t actually mind at all.

SHIDOU —

in your relationship, shidou had always been the clingy one—always finding ways to stay close, like he was trying to fuse himself to you. you, on the other hand, were more reserved, never the one to initiate anything. at first glance, he didn’t seem like the type to be so needy, all sharp edges and reckless energy, but he was. he’d grip onto your jacket when you denied him pda, tugging at the fabric like a restless storm, grumbling about how unfair it was, acting as if being apart for even a second was some kind of punishment.

now imagine his surprise when you walked through the door after work, a deep frown on your face and your steps quick and determined. before he could even process it, your hands shot up—too fast, too sudden. instinctively, he flinched, ducking slightly with his hands raised in defense.

the result? an awkward collision. you barely had time to stop before bumping right into him, his shoulder knocking against yours as he stumbled back. for once, shidou was the one caught off guard, blinking at you with wide eyes while you just huffed, completely unfazed.

you looked at him, deadpan, and crossed your arms. “well, that was graceful.”

shidou, still trying to regain his balance, shot you an exaggerated glare. “i thought you were about to slap me, what do you expect?”

you smirked, leaning slightly closer, but keeping just enough space between you two to make it dramatic. “you’re lucky i didn’t,” you said, raising an eyebrow, “i’ve got a lot of pent-up frustration from work.”

he straightened himself up, clearly not backing down, but then leaned in just a little more, clearly testing your reaction. “oh, so you just come home and use me as a punching bag now?”

you rolled your eyes. “only if you keep dodging hugs like that.”

he paused, his eyes narrowing mischievously. “what do you mean?”

without warning, you took a step forward, close enough that your chest nearly brushed against his as you wrapped your arms around his neck in a tight hug. “i mean this,” you muttered against him.

shidou froze, caught off guard. for a moment, he didn’t know how to react, but then a chuckle escaped him. “so this is how it is now? one second i’m dodging punches, and the next, i’m being ambushed with hugs?”

you pulled back slightly to meet his eyes, grinning. “pretty much.”

he smirked, his arms finally wrapping around your waist, pulling you back in. “not so bad, huh?”

you hummed contentedly. “not bad at all.”

[ramp-it-up]

Planting Seeds

Read Encore

Summary: You get your fill of Henry.

Pairing: Ceo!Henry Cavill x Reader au

Word count: 1.9 K

A/N: Henry Cavill is a beautiful man, idc, idc. He is the faceclaim to some of my fantasies. @nissaimmortal may have not so innocently fed me one line and here I am, feral. Hope you like it! Feed me through reblogs, comments, and likes. Also asks are fun!

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! All mistakes my own. Employer/employee dynamic, age gap, reference to annual gyno exam, masturbation, contraceptive talk, a little bit of angst, rom-coms, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, heavy breeding kink, rough, raw p-in-v, begging kink, threat of orgasm denial, degradation and praise, did i say breeding kink? Talking you through it, creampie, cum kink, is she or isn't she?

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

You were knee-deep in the finishing touches of an important project, but there was no avoiding it, you needed to go.

Henry’s brows knitted together as he looked up from his notes when you rose from the conference room table.

“Sorry, Boss. I have my annual appointment at lunch today. I’ve put this off for months, so I really have to go.” 

You patted his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. 

“I put in your lunch order. Make sure you eat, Henry.”

His lips curled into a small smile as he removed his reading glasses, eyes soft. 

“Of course. You must attend to your health. And yes, Dear.”

You grinned at his endearment.

“Good thing you haven’t beaten up my box lately. Wouldn’t want Dr. Hutchins to ask what we’ve been up to.”

You winked, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before turning to leave. His raised eyebrow and smirk followed you out the door. Henry watched you go, eyes trailing your body as you hurried to the elevator. 

You had both been drowning in work lately, too exhausted for anything beyond curling up together at the end of the day. Yet, as he sat there, a flicker of anxiety stirred inside him. You were younger. Your relationship was still new. 

Would you want a family? And if so, would you want one with him, a man old enough to be their grandfather? He shook off the thought and refocused on the task at hand.

A couple of hours later, your text lit up his screen.

Had to have my IUD out.  Two more weeks until the other method kicks in.  So we’ll have to wait a little longer or use condoms. And be very careful.

Henry swallowed hard. He hadn’t even been thinking about sex, until you told him not to. Now it was all he could think about. He’d been fucking you raw for a while now and he didn’t think he could go back and the thought of going back to barriers made something inside him rebel.

Still, he was a gentleman. He could control himself. He responded to you, quickly.

Whatever is needed. We can watch a movie tonight. You pick.

Goody! 50 First Dates.

Splendid.

A mindless rom-com would be the perfect distraction. Or so he thought.

Later, as you curled up beside him on the couch, his self-control began to unravel. You nestled against his arm, warm and soft, pressing absentmindedly into him. Your scent filled his lungs, intoxicating and familiar.

Henry tried to focus on the screen, but his mind drifted to the last time he’d had you. How your perfect pussy gushed just right for him. You were so hot and tight. He tried to stop, but he kept thinking of the smell of you, and how perfectly you fit around him, how your body trembled in his hands.

Before he knew it, his hand was on your thigh, squeezing.

You turned, eyes meeting his, and smiled. A slow, knowing smile. Leaning in, you kissed his cheek, but he was already turning toward you, capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss.

Within moments, you were tangled together, heat surging between you as you pressed into each other. His hands roamed under your shirt, his cock aching to be inside you.

“Bloody hell. We are grown adults,” he muttered, breaking the kiss.

You were breathless, hair tousled, eyes dark with want. When your gaze dropped to the outline of his erection, he groaned.

A wicked glint flashed in your eyes as you ran a slow hand down your body, teasing.

Henry exhaled sharply, then stood, tugging his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. Your breath hitched as his thick, muscular torso came into view.

Then, without a word, he shoved down his jeans and underwear, his cock standing thick and heavy. Your mouth parted slightly, eyes locked on him.

He smirked and stepped back, sitting across the room with his thick thighs spread, fisting himself lazily.

“I want you to stay right there and touch yourself,” he said, voice low and commanding.

 “While I sit here and watch you.”

A pulse of heat shot through you.

Oh, fuck.

Your response was a quiet, breathless, “Yes.”

You stripped off your tank top and leggings, your fingers teasing over your flushed skin. One hand toyed with a hardened nipple while the other slipped between your thighs, circling and teasing your cunt.

“Let���s just say I was going to put my cock inside you right now,” Henry gave himself a slow stroke and a bubble of precum rolled down his fingers as he showed you what he was working with. 

You ached for the stretch only he could give you.

“What would you want you to do, love?”

That question short circuited your brain.

“I’d want you to fuck me from behind over the back of this couch.” 

Henry didn’t reply, but his mouth opened and he stroked faster. 

You leaned against the armrest of the couch and spread you knees wider, focusing on finger fucking yourself. You slid in a second digit to try and replicate the extra fullness of his cock,  but it was nowhere close. Henry chuckled.

“You know you need another.”

You stuffed a third finger inside yourself and he rewarded you.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

Your toes curled against the cushions and his eyes and his voice and the vision of him were edging you toward your orgasm. You closed your eyes and prepared to fall, when suddenly, strong hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly, bending you over the back of the couch.

At this point, nothing else mattered.

You needed him inside you.

Henry pressed his cock against your slick entrance, his voice a deep, guttural growl.

“I’ve been saving my cum for days now,” he murmured, nudging against you. 

“Waiting for a chance to fill you so full it’ll drip down your thighs.”

The image alone sent you spiraling.

“God, Henry. Please,” you whimpered, pressing back against him.

He chuckled darkly.

“Hmmm, Little One. I don’t know if you want it bad enough yet.”

 He teased you as his cockhead popped inside you. 

“And what if you get pregnant?”

Your body jolted at the thought.

You shifted, trying to take more of him, but his grip was firm, controlling. Each tiny movement sent sparks of pleasure rippling through you. You were reduced to begging, which he loved.

“Please, Henry,” you gasped. “I’ll do anything… just fuck me.”

A deep, satisfied groan rumbled from his chest.

“You’re desperate for this, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you choked out.

“Say it, Little One.”

Your hips rocked involuntarily, seeking relief, and he grinned.

“I’m a cock-hungry slut,” you whispered, the words sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

Henry’s laughter was low and full of dark promise.

“Not yet, my little fucktoy.”

You nearly sobbed in frustration.

“You really need my cum inside you right now, don’t you?” he taunted, voice velvet and steel.

Your body trembled. You were losing control.

“Fuck… yes… please.”

“You’re doing so well,” he crooned.

“Beg for it again.”

You couldn’t even remember what you said. Your mind was a haze of pleasure and need.

“I don’t—”

He cut you off with a sharp, punishing thrust.

You gasped.

“Changed my mind. I’m not waiting anymore.”

The world blurred as pleasure engulfed you. His hands on were your hips, his body owning yours completely. You barely registered his next words.

“Oh, and Little One?”

You whimpered in response.

“Don’t even think about coming until I say you can.”

The command sent a violent shudder through you.

Time seemed to slow as his pace grew relentless, his body slamming into yours with precision, purpose. You were nothing but sensation, drowning in him, gripping the cushions as your body tightened, coiled, ready to snap…

And then, he stilled.

“You want to know what’s going to happen?”

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

Henry withdrew fully. Then slammed back into you.

“Oooooh, fuck!”

“I’m going to fuck a baby into you.”

His voice was pure sin.

“You’re going to be a beautiful, pregnant mess when I’m done with you.”

Your body clenched at his words, teetering on the edge.

“Yes,” you breathed.

He growled, yanking your hair back, his control slipping.

“My beautiful little slut,” he panted, thrusting deep. “Do you want my cum?”

The spikes of pleasure were too much, your body trembling on the precipice. 

You knew you were going to come at any moment, but still, you managed to get it out. 

“Yes, please… can I come?”

Henry’s grip tightened, his thrusts never faltering. 

“I have one question first.”

Your fingers dug into the cushions.

“Please just let me comeeee!”

Henry waited, delivering two more deep, devastating strokes for your sass. You were on the verge of losing your mind.

“Are you,” he growled, punctuating each word with a thrust, “my fucktoy… that I can use… however I want? To fuck and to fill with my cum…to breed how I see fit?”

Your breath hitched as you realized that Henry really could do whatever he wanted to you right now, and you’d beg for more. You opened your mouth to say yes, but hesitation cost you.

He yanked your hair back harder and smacked your ass hard. You yelped in pleasure/pain.

“Answer me.”

“Yes, Henry! I’m yours!” 

The words spilled from your lips, raw and desperate, and the second they left your mouth, your body shattered. Blinding pleasure overtook you, ripping through your limbs and curling your toes. Your moans melted into breathless whimpers as you bucked and shuddered through your release.

Henry didn’t stop. He drove into you, prolonging your ecstasy, dragging out every aftershock until your body was nothing but sensation. Then, with one final thrust, he stilled.

A deep, guttural roar tore from his throat as he came, his body jerking against yours. The thick, pulsing heat of his release flooded you, sending another tremor through your overstimulated body.

This was what you’d been waiting for. What you both craved. The thought of him emptying himself inside you, filling you, claiming you, almost pushed you over the edge again.

You moaned softly as he grinded against you, savoring every last drop. He stayed buried deep, thrusting lazily, fucking his cum further inside while your body milked him dry.

For a long moment, he stayed there, his weight pressing you into the cushions. You shivered beneath him, but there was something grounding about his warmth, the way he kept you close.

Finally, he pulled out, and just as he promised, your combined fluids began to trickle down your thighs. Henry watched, utterly transfixed, then bent down and effortlessly lifted you into his arms.

“Now,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, “let’s get you cleaned up. So we can do that again.”

You twined an arm around his neck as he carried you into the bathroom, setting you down and ensuring that you were steady before letting you go.

As he turned on the shower, his gaze flicked to the sink, where the box for your diaphragm sat.

A slow, wicked smirk tugged at his lips.

“Always prepared, aren’t you, Little One?”

You flashed him a playful smile. 

“Well… I was going to put that in later. But you caught me by surprise.”

His eyebrow arches as he eases you under the steaming water. He wasn’t sure if you were telling the truth or indulging in the kink.

“That’s good,” he purred, hands sliding over your slick skin. 

“Then we can breed you again, my love.”

You shuddered with anticipation as you stood on your tiptoes to press your naked, wet body against his.

----

Let me know how you feel!

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

always first. l Harry Castillo

Harry Castillo [The Materialists] x Reader

summary: this evening was just perfect

warnings: fluff, angst, chocolate soufflé, some champagne, one broken heart

a/n: i don't know what you'll think about this. or what you'll think about me.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist]

This restaurant was probably the most elegant and exclusive you had ever been to. You felt like you didn’t belong there, but you were there with him. Porcelain plates and delicate glasses of iced white wine sat on a crisp white tablecloth, candles flickered softly, their light reflecting off the eyes of the man in front of you.

Harry Castillo. In a perfectly tailored suit, with well-styled hair and a wonderful smile, he looked at you with his brown eyes. He was handsome and at that moment he looked simply stunning.

“Does everything taste good?” he asked in a soft voice that made every nerve in your body vibrate.

"Mhm." you mumbled, taking a sip of wine. "Delicious."

He tilted his head, smiling at you. A pleasant warmth crept up to your neck. Maybe it was the wine... Or maybe Harry.

When you put down the cutlery, he nodded to the waiter standing by the wall, who quickly approached you and cleared the plates.

“Dessert will be served soon. May I recommend the chocolate soufflé?”

Harry looked at you, and you raised your eyebrows in approval. "The lady accepted. Thank you."

The boy walked away, leaving you alone.

“I have another surprise for you,” Harry said, gently running his fingers over the glass on the table. “I hope you enjoy it as much as you enjoyed dinner tonight.”

"I'm sure of it." you replied. "Are you going to tell me what it is or do I have to guess?"

Harry straightened up and reached into the pocket of his jacket. A small velvet box flashed in his hand. Before you could say a word, or at least take a breath, he knelt down next to you and gently took your hand.

"Darling..." he began, and your heart began to pound in your chest. "The day I met you, I knew I had been waiting for you my whole life. You're everything I need and want."

"Harry..." you sighed, but he just smiled, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

“I’ve never met a woman as beautiful, smart, brilliant, and funny as you. You’re perfect for me, and I can’t imagine my life without you.” He carefully opened the box, and your eyes met the ring, which was a small work of art in itself. An elegant diamond surrounded by several smaller ones, exactly the same as the one you’d seen at one of the most expensive jewelers in town. Harry continued, his gaze never leaving your face. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to grow old with you, have children with you, and watch them grow up. I want to support you and love you for the rest of my life. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

Your throat was so tight that you weren't sure if you'd be able to utter a single word. Harry must have noticed, because he didn't rush you, but only looked at you with the same tenderness as before. 

You finally managed to take a breath, and a quiet "Yes, I'd love to" escaped your lips.

If Harry was happy, now you saw true joy in his eyes. A diamond ring was slid onto your finger, and warm lips kissed your hand.

"You've made me the happiest man on earth, baby." he said.

"And you've made me the happiest woman."

He got up from the ground and sat down on a chair, finished his wine and looked at you with happiness written all over his face. Your heart was still pounding in your chest, but you managed to glance at your hand. You almost didn't recognize it. The diamond reflected the dim glow of the candles, it looked even more beautiful than in the box.

"How much does it cost?" you asked quietly, gently turning your hand to look at it closely.

“Does it matter?” Harry burst out laughing, but you looked at him expectantly, so he quickly added, “Over two hundred thousand.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you quickly reached out to him. “Take this before someone cuts off my finger!” you said and he laughed.

The ring quickly returned to the box, and Harry put it in his jacket pocket. He watched as you finished your wine and shifted in your chair. He waited.

"And what do you think? Will she like it?" he asked.

You looked at him and sighed quietly. "If Meredith isn't thrilled after all this, I don't know what could make her happier." You answered honestly. "That's all..." You made a hand motion encompassing the entire restaurant and Harry. "That's perfect. No director could have come up with this better, Harry."

The man smiled, clearly pleased with your answer. You knew he had been planning this for a while. Of course, he told you because you were his friend. The best friend he had, who knew him like the back of her hand.

He and Meredith had been dating for almost half a year, and Harry was completely committed to it. He really wanted this relationship to be long-term. Every outing, every gift, every time spent with Meredith, he consulted with you first. You didn't want to do it, but he begged you so hard that you gave in.

Every restaurant he took her to, he was there with you first.

Every dessert she ate, you had to taste it first.

Every bouquet of flowers, you had to see first.

Every gift had to be accepted by you.

And now even their engagement had to pass the test in your presence.

You didn't want this. Every time you felt like it was slowly killing you. Harry had been your friend for a few years and you didn't even know when you had fallen in love with him. The most charming, caring, loving man you had ever met in your life was about to propose to another woman.

No, she wasn't a bad woman. Meredith was beautiful and smart. Or at least that's what Harry said about her, because you'd only met her once. You didn't hate her, but you were incredibly sad that such a man had come your way only for you to help him marry another woman.

“You seem sad about something.”

His warm voice pulled you out of your thoughts for a moment. You plastered an innocent smile on your lips. “I was lost in thought, sorry. Everything will be so beautiful... Maredith will be thrilled for sure.”

“I hope so,” he sighed. “Of course, I’ll let you know when she makes a decision.”

"Of course. Thank you."

“Your dessert, chocolate soufflé.” You almost jumped as the waiter appeared right behind you and placed your order on the table.

An ironic thought flashed through your mind like lightning. The chocolate soufflé was your last meal before your execution. Soon, the man you loved would marry another woman, and you would congratulate him with a smile on your lips.

"It looks wonderful, doesn't it?"

“Yes, it does.” You replied, looking at Harry, even as your eyes stung with the tears that were slowly forming. “You thought of everything, Harry.”

How many more smiles could you make? You didn't want to convince yourself of that. His happiness was the most important thing, and you were glad you could help him achieve that.

Because that's what friends do, right? They help, not love.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[ambernotember]

a stupid mistake

I am going to blame @alchemistc and specifically this post for this. oh, and angst week. also on ao3

Tommy woke up to an empty bed. Normal. He stretched his arms out and was surprised to discover residual warmth on the other pillow. He pushed himself up to look at the other side of the bed. Pillow — indented. Sheets — in disarray. Fuck. It hadn’t been a dream.

Tommy was five shots deep already, on top of the beers he’d started with. He’d barely been at the bar for two hours. He was in his forties, for christssakes, drinking like a college kid away from home for the first time. He’d come to the bar in hopes of a distraction, maybe see some of his trivia buddies, but not wanting to appear so desperate for company that he’d actually texted anyone to see if they were planning to be there. He’d sat down at the bar to have a beer or two, chitchat with the bartenders he knew, spend a few hours out of the house. He’d nursed a beer for the first forty five minutes, and then they’d walked in.

Evan. And Ravi. They’d met a few times while Tommy had been dating Evan.

And now they were here, together. Evan, his arm around Ravi’s shoulders when they’d walked in. Evan, buying their drinks. Evan, leaning in close across the table to talk to Ravi, eyes glimmering, a smile on his face.

Tommy couldn’t get to the door without heading in their direction — neither of them had noticed him, seated in the back corner on the other side of the bar, the shelves of glasses and liquor bottles in the middle of the u-shaped bar hiding him from their view.

So. Another beer. And another. And another. God, couldn’t Evan just get up and go to the bathroom or something? Ravi was facing the wrong way to notice him, Tommy was sure he could sneak by.

So. Shots.

Lee, his favourite bartender, gave him a look when he ordered shots four and five.

“You didn’t drive here, did you? Do I need to confiscate your keys?”

Tommy shook his head. “Ubered. Worked too many wrecks to ever consider it.”

Lee poured him the shots. “Can I ask what brought on the heavy drinking?”

Tommy laughed humourlessly. “My ex is here. With someone else.”

“Yikes,” Lee hissed through their teeth. Lee poured him a sixth shot, then poured themself one and clinked glasses with Tommy. This was why Lee was his favourite. Understanding, and only judgmental about drunk driving. They drank their shots together. “Why aren’t you just leaving then? Not that the till minds your contribution.”

“Can’t get to the door without passing them.”

“Well shit,” Lee said, scooping up Tommy’s empties and depositing them in the sink. “Want me to get them thrown out?”

Tommy chuckled, small but genuine. “No, but thanks for the offer.”

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Lee said, heading down the bar to take care of another customer. Tommy sipped his next shot, knowing it was just delaying the inevitable.

He finished shot five — six, technically, after the one Lee had shared with him — and was contemplating going back to beer. Nicer to his wallet, possibly his liver, but the rest of his body was definitely fucked for tomorrow.

“I thought that was you,” a familiar voice said next to him. He startled, and turned a little too fast to see Ravi leaning against the bar. “Buck and I have a table, you should come join us.”

Tommy had never wished so hard for a freak meteor to fall from outer space and kill him.

“Uh,” he said eloquently.

Lee swooped in. Yes, they’d save him.

“Are you the ex?” Lee asked, eyes narrowed. “Tommy said I couldn't throw you out but if you’re bothering him I will.”

Not a save. Just more embarrassment.

“The ex?” Ravi looked confused. “No, not the ex.”

“You’re not Evan?” Lee asked to clarify.

“No, I’m Ravi — wait, you and Buck broke up?”

Oh. That hurt more than expected.

“Yeah, after Halloween.” Tommy said gruffly.

Ravi’s eyebrows rose. “Wow, switch shifts and it’s like they forget you exist. I just got back on A shift,” he explained, seeing Tommy’s look. “I’ve been floating B and C since — well. Just after Bobby.”

Tommy nodded. Ravi hadn’t had to deal with Gerrard then. At least one of them had escaped unscathed.

“Well, that makes my invitation a little more awkward but… I really think you should join us.”

Lee placed a cup of water in front of Tommy. “I’m closing your tab,” they informed him kindly.

“I thought you liked me,” Tommy complained, drinking the water anyways.

“Look, Buck has seemed mopey all shift and I thought it was because of everything happening with Maddie and Eddie and Bobby but,” Ravi shook his head, “I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on now.”

Tommy tried to parse that, only to realize he hadn’t heard anything about the 118 in a while, and had absolutely no idea what Ravi was talking about. Lee refilled his water, which apparently he’d finished at some point. He pulled out his wallet, tapped his card to pay for his drink, and pulled two twenties out for Lee. He paused, and pulled out a third one. He wasn’t convinced the night wouldn’t end with either him or Evan or both of them getting thrown out of the bar. Might as well make someone’s night better.

Ravi ordered two of the beers on tap, as well as four shots. “What?” He asked when Tommy looked at him. “I’m ninety five percent sure it’s the best way to get him to talk and a hundred percent sure I’ll need it to deal with the two of you.”

Lee laughed as they took Ravi’s money.

“I’ll bring the drinks over, you two go sit,” Lee said.

“Traitor,” Tommy hissed as he followed Ravi away from the bar. Lee’s laugh followed him to the table where Evan and Ravi had been set up. Ravi slid into his previous seat, across from Evan, and Tommy hesitated briefly before taking the seat next to Ravi. There was no way he was going to sit next to Evan.

“What took so long?” Evan asked Ravi, before his eyes caught on Tommy. His eyes widened, mouth open with an unasked question.

Lee came over with a tray of their drinks, splitting the shots between Ravi and Evan, placing another water in front of Tommy when they put down the beers Ravi had ordered.

Evan grabbed one of the shots and downed it, then sputtered at the taste.

“Ravi, what the fuck is that?”

“Peanut butter whiskey,” Ravi said, unbothered, as he sipped his own shot.

“That’s… no. That’s not for shots,” Tommy said.

“Sorry I have taste buds,” Ravi shot back.

Evan took a sip of his beer and slid the other shot towards Tommy, who alternated it with the water. It was actually good whiskey, it just wasn’t meant for shots.

“So, how’s Eddie doing in Texas?” Ravi asked Evan, zero segue, and Tommy knew he was watching for Tommy’s reaction.

“Fine,” Evan muttered, playing with a coaster, eyes focused on the tabletop. “Lots of work to be done on the house. He’s trying to do it himself but I think he’s going to have to hire someone. He’s not that handy.”

“Chris staying with him yet?” Ravi pressed.

“Friday and Saturday nights. The rest of the time he’s still with his grandparents. You know, we talked about all of this at work. You can just tell him,” he jerked his chin towards Tommy. “You don’t need me to do that.”

Ravi sighed and turned towards Tommy. “So Eddie bought a house in El Paso and moved back to be closer to Chris, which is why I’m on A shift again. Bobby’s mom is apparently the leader of a mega church and a con artist, and we got called out to a scene at her church today. Oh, and Maddie got kidnapped by a serial killer and almost died, but she and the baby are fine now.”

“Are you fucking with me?” Tommy asked, not harshly, but even for the 118 that seemed like a lot.

“Oh, and Buck moved out of the loft and took over Eddie’s lease so he could go to Texas. Did I miss anything?” Ravi directed the last question to Evan.

“Denny got his cast off and should be able to play baseball this summer,” Evan added, still looking down.

“That all — that seriously all happened since November?” Tommy asked.

“Honestly, most of it was in the last month,” Ravi said.

The three of them fell into an awkward silence as Tommy tried to think of what to say to Evan. “I’m sorry” didn’t feel adequate, and “are you okay?” felt pretty heartless.

“So, what have you been up to?” Ravi asked Tommy, putting Evan’s focus back on him.

“Oh, uh, nothing much,” Tommy said, playing with the straw in his water glass. “Uh, fixed up two cars for a collector. Work. That’s pretty much it.”

Silence fell again.

“Well, you two are super fun,” Ravi said. “I’m getting more drinks.” He abandoned them to their awkwardness, heading for the bar even though his and Evan’s beers were barely half empty and he still had a shot.

Evan sucked in a breath then looked shocked when Tommy looked at him.

“Maddie’s really okay?” Tommy asked, thinking that was the safest thing to start with.

Evan nodded. “Physically, yeah. She’s still shaken up. She’s taking some time off work.”

“She and Howie are having another kid?”

“Yeah, uh, a boy,” Evan smiled down at his beer, avoiding eye contact with Tommy, but the smile was genuine. “Jee seems to think he’s going to be full grown, I think she’s only used to Denny as the idea of a brother, but she’s excited.”

“That’s great,” Tommy said softly.

Ravi returned with Lee and more shots — not peanut butter whiskey this time — and some of them were for Tommy this time, though Lee did still give him another water and a reproachful look that told him if he didn’t finish it, Lee wouldn’t be so nice the next time he came in.

They muddled through a surface level conversation, avoiding any more discussion of the topics Ravi had mentioned. More shots appeared at the table, and waters for all of them, not just Tommy. It was just past midnight when Ravi called it quits for the night, ordering an Uber and closing out his tab. Evan and Tommy waved as he left the table, sitting in comfortable silence before they both realized this wasn’t a normal night out for them. The awkwardness settled in quickly, and they pulled out their phones in near unison to get their own rides.

Evan groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked, on high alert after everything he’d heard from Ravi.

“Nothing, uh, my phone just died,” Evan said.

“My place isn’t that far from Eddie’s — from your place,” Tommy corrected, “we can share a ride and it can drop you home after me.”

Evan hesitated and looked at him, expression unreadable.

“Just a ride,” Tommy said.

“Okay,” Evan nodded, following him as Tommy stood up from the table and walked out of the bar. Evan had settled his tab when Ravi did, so they didn’t need to stop at the bar. Tommy saw Lee clock them walking out together, raising an eyebrow at him, an expression on their face that meant Tommy was definitely going to have to talk about this the next time he was there.

Maybe he’d find a new bar. Lots of places did trivia, after all.

The uber arrived quickly, and Tommy held the car door open for Evan. It wasn’t a small car, but their hands ended up brushing together in the backseat anyways.

Tommy wasn’t sure who started it, but before they’d gone three blocks, their fingers were firmly linked together and Evan was tracing patterns on the back of his hand. It was just a ride, Tommy reminded himself. He had this for another ten, maybe fifteen minutes, depending on the route and the lights. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it to be faster or longer. Either way it would drive him crazy.

When they pulled up to Tommy’s house — thirteen minutes, the shorter route but more red lights, his brain helpfully catalogued — Evan followed him out of the car, thanking the driver before he left.

“Can I come in?” Evan asked. Tommy’s heart flipped painfully. He told himself it was from the alcohol.

“Sure,” Tommy said, not mentioning when Evan linked their fingers together again as they walked up the front path.

“Want to plug your phone in?” Tommy asked, when they were standing in his living room.

Evan moved silently towards the side table where Tommy kept his charging cords, bending at the waist slightly to reach the cord. Tommy stared at his ass, the way he had when they were together. The alcohol had slowed his reflexes some, and he didn’t manage to tear his eyes away before Evan turned back around.

“Thank god,” Evan said, crossing the room to him and crashing their mouths together like he had when Tommy had shown up at the hospital for Howie and Maddie’s wedding. Tommy moaned in surprise, hands flying to Evan’s hips immediately, pulling him closer. Tommy’s awareness narrowed down to the points of contact between him and Evan, unable to think of anything else until Evan pulled back enough for them to take a breath.

“I wasn’t — I didn’t plan this,” Tommy said.

“Duh,” Evan scoffed. “I invited myself in.”

“This is just going to make things harder,” Tommy had to make him understand.

“It’s making something harder,” Evan said, a smirk on his face now.

“Evan,” Tommy tried again.

“Tommy,” Evan said back to him, a hint of mockery in his tone, but sounding overwhelming desperate.

Tommy could blame the alcohol running through his system, right? He could say he was doing this for Evan. It was what Evan needed.

When Evan reached for him again, he went willingly. They shed their clothes as they made their way through Tommy’s house to the bedroom, bumping into walls and picture frames. There was never less than two points of contact between them, Tommy’s skin alight with the heat rolling off of Evan.

They tumbled into bed holding each other closer than Tommy thought physically possible. Tommy felt like he was trying to burrow his way into Evan’s body, like he could meld them into one being and stay there forever. Was there a way he could keep this? Was there something he could say to take away the hurt he’d caused? Was there a way to keep Evan in his bed, in his life? Evan’s hands on his body brought him back from his thoughts, focused on the righthererightnow.

Buck slipped out of bed the next morning, silently collecting his clothes and his phone. Tommy was still asleep as he moved through the house, a ghost in a now unfamiliar place. It made it easier, almost, or so Buck told himself. He closed the front door carefully and ordered an Uber, setting the location to the coffee shop a block away, and the drop off point as Maddie’s house. He didn’t want to bother her but… he felt like she was the only person he could talk to.

Every step away from Tommy’s house made him feel heavier, like he was wearing his work gear in quicksand. He thought he’d feel… better about it, somehow. This time it was his choice to leave. With every house he passed his stomach roiled, not the feeling of a morning after heavy drinking but the feeling that something was wrong, that he’d made a mistake.

But Tommy had been the one to walk away first. Tommy had decided he wasn’t Buck’s last. Wasn’t Buck just… proving him right? Wasn’t that what he wanted?

Buck walked into the coffee shop and got a large coffee and a greasy breakfast sandwich for himself, a little pastry for Maddie to make up for dropping all this in her lap with no notice.

The driver was waiting for him when he left the shop, and he slid into the back seat, alone this time. He was silent on the drive, thanking the driver when they arrived. He was glad to see Chimney’s car wasn’t in the driveway.

He let himself in with his spare key and called a hello to Maddie. She was sitting in the kitchen, still in her pajamas, hands around a cup of coffee — Chimney had at least let up on that this time around. He handed her the pastry bag and sat across from her, hands still wrapped around his take out cup.

She looked down at what she clearly knew was a bribery pastry, then up at Buck.

“Buck? What’s going on?”

“Maddie, I did something stupid.”

It was fair, Tommy thought, that Evan was the one to walk away this time without letting Tommy say anything to stop him. He'd clearly seen that Tommy was right, had spent the night in Tommy’s little house, the garage the biggest part of it, and realized, yeah, Tommy wasn’t his last. Tommy had been right. Tommy had been right that Evan would break his heart.

Tommy had just been wrong about how much it would hurt.

tag list: @chimneyz @bucktommyscones @swagmaster9k @geekwarrior107 @racerchix21 @fan-of-a-lot @bybobbysbeard @desert--moonchild @deans-hoodie

interact with this post to be added/removed

[lexalith]

SOMETHING REAL || Choi Seunghyun (T.O.P)

summary: you never expected him to matter this much. at first, seunghyun is just the annoying guy from class—the one who gets under your skin without even trying. but somehow, he becomes your best friend, the one who listens when no one else does. you both have your own lives, your own relationships. it’s never supposed to be more than that. but then the way he looks at you lingers a little too long, his touch starts to feel like something you don’t want to live without. and when love starts to feel like loneliness, he’s there. what if he was the right one all along?

warnings/this story contains: (reader discretion is advised), seunghyun and the reader are both in their early twenties, slowburn, enemies to friends to enemies (?) to friends to lovers (lmao help), smut (oral sex (f receiving), p in v, dry humping, fingering, slight overstimulation, praising, lowkey rough sex), seunghyun and the reader struggle with insecurities, mentions of cheating, emotional cheating, mild angst (miscommunication, heartbreak, ghosting, lies, bickering), fluff (toward the end, seunghyun’s down BAD), a loooot of artsy talk and an insane amount of yearning.

a/n: this is an au! seunghyun’s not an idol and he was born in the early 2000’s. this is loosely based on real events (my life, lmao), some stuff has been altered for artistic reasons and to fit seunghyun’s persona. enjoy this fragment that i couldn’t resist sharing, because it’s the most bookish thing that’s ever happened to me—basically the closest i’ve ever been to feeling like the main character. help. anyway! english isn’t my first language so mistakes should be present!! lower case is intended. reader’s dialogue is in bold. mind you, like always, this is LOOONG (it’s a whole fic)

songs: i love my boyfriend — princess chelsea || delicate — taylor swift || sure thing — miguel

three minutes. that’s exactly the time you have left before your next class starts. you’re walking briskly across campus, your coffee in one hand, your backpack slung over one shoulder, trying to make sure you don’t arrive late (again…). but then, out of nowhere, someone bumps into you. it’s not even a light brush—it’s a full-on collision that sends the hot coffee sloshing out of your cup and spilling all over you. you gasp, looking down at your favorite blouse, now stained with dark coffee, and a surge of frustration rises in your chest. the guy who bumped into you stumbles back, clearly just as startled as you are, and for a moment, you just stand there, staring at him. he’s awkward, shifting on his feet, like he doesn’t know what to do. “uh… i didn’t see you,” he says, but his voice trails off. his eyes flicker down to the stain, then back to you, but he doesn’t move to offer help. “clearly,” you huff. he seems to be about to offer something—an apology, maybe—but the words never quite make it out. this is so ridiculous. it’s not like you expected him to drop to his knees asking for forgiveness, but at least do something. instead, he just looks at you, and says, “it’s just coffee.” it’s clear he didn’t mean to spill the drink, but the last thing you need right now is him trying to downplay it. you roll your eyes, your patience wearing thin. “yeah, and now it’s on me!” he raises his eyebrows, almost amused by your reaction. “it’ll probably come out in the wash.” “i can’t go to my next class like this!” you don’t have time for this. “yeah… i—i’m sorry,” he finally says.

you stare at him for a moment, and at first, you almost want to believe his apology, but then you see it. his lips twitch. it’s so subtle, like he’s trying to hold back a laugh, but it’s enough to set you off. your blood boils with frustration, and you glare at him, your patience completely gone. “great. just great,” you snap, your voice dripping with sarcasm. without waiting for him to respond, you turn on your heel and start walking away, the coffee still soaking through your blouse, irritation simmering beneath your skin. “sorry!” you hear him call after you, but it’s distant. and just before you disappear around the corner, you catch it—the soft sound of a laugh. he’s laughing at you! what a fucking douche! you want to spin around and yell, but you don’t. you’ve got bigger things to worry about. like, for instance, the argument with your boyfriend earlier. it started as something small—just a misunderstanding, a simple disagreement about plans for the weekend—but somehow, it escalated. words were exchanged, and now you’re both giving each other the silent treatment. it doesn’t help that you haven’t had the time or energy to smooth things over. so now, you’re walking around campus, wearing a coffee stain bigger than your damn head, replaying the argument in your mind over and over. it’s like everything is spiraling today.

you’ve officially become a hater of the coffee-spiller guy. it doesn’t take long for you to realize that fate has an awful sense of humor. a couple of days later, when you walk into your ‘history of art’ class, you spot him. there he is, sitting at the back of the lecture hall. you freeze for a moment and his eyes catch yours almost immediately. you can see it—the flicker of recognition, the split second where he remembers exactly who you are. but he looks away quickly. you roll your eyes and find a seat far away from him, making a mental note to never, ever, be near him in this class.

every little thing he does in class irritates you. the way he taps his pen against the desk, that awful, self-satisfied look he gets when he answers a question correctly. then there’s his laugh. it’s loud, obnoxious. you swear you can feel the vibration of it in your chest, like it’s shaking the whole room. and god, don’t even get started on the way he taps his foot incessantly, like he’s got some sort of rhythm problem, the way he flips through his notebook with unnecessary speed, flicking each page with an irritating snap. it drives you crazy. if you could, you’d throw your notebook at him just to get him to stop. but you don’t. because, well, you’re trying to act like an adult. by the end of each lecture, you’re fuming, but the worst part is—you’re starting to remember his name. choi seunghyun.

the next week, your friend doesn’t show up to class, and empty seat where they should be. and it’s a problem, because when the professor starts assigning partners for the semester project, you don’t have one. and of course, because the universe fucking hates you, guess who also doesn’t have a partner? “choi seunghyun, you’ll be with…” the professor scans the room, and your stomach drops before she even says it. your name. you blink. “what?” “you two will be working together on the project.” “can i do it alone? i don’t need a partner,” you say, shaking your head. the professor doesn’t even look up from her notes. “it’s a paired assignment.” “okay, but my partner’s just absent today. they’re still in the class, they’ll be back.” “you’re with seunghyun,” the professor says, finally looking at you, exasperated. you turn in your seat to glare at him, and of course, the asshole looks completely unbothered. you take a deep breath, grip your notebook a little tighter, and push yourself up from your seat. if there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s that seunghyun isn’t about to haul his ass over to you. which means, unfortunately, you have to go to him. it shouldn’t annoy you as much as it does, but everything about this situation is already pissing you off, so what’s one more thing?

you drop your stuff on his desk and pull out a chair, not waiting for an invitation. “let’s just get this over with.” seunghyun barely glances up. “eager, aren’t you?” “i actually want to pass this class,” you snap, unfolding the project sheet. and then, as your eyes land on the topic, your irritation dims—just a little. “ancient greek sculpture,” you mutter, reading over the details. seunghyun leans back, stretching his arms over the back of his chair. “not bad, huh?” “could’ve been worse,” you admit, tapping your pen against the desk. “greek sculpture is foundational. proportions, movement, realism—this stuff shaped everything that came after it.” he smirks. “glad you won’t be completely miserable, then.” you huff, crossing your arms. “trust me, if i had a different partner, i’d actually be excited about this.” his grin widens. “so i’m the problem?” “seunghyun,” you deadpan, “that was never in question.”

seunghyun doesn’t know why it feels so strange, hearing his name come from you. but it sticks in his head. he keeps his eyes on the project sheet, pretending to read while his mind is somewhere else entirely. you sit across from him, your fingers lingering on the corners of each page before turning them, and every so often, you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re thinking. he shouldn’t be noticing these things. but he does. you’re pretty. no, beautiful. sitting this close, it’s impossible to ignore. the way the light catches your eyes, the faintest crease in your brow when you’re thinking, the soft curve of your cheeks when you huff in frustration. there’s something about it—something that makes him glance away too quickly when you look up. but when you start talking, it’s even worse. your voice changes when you talk about art. there’s a spark in it, something alive, something that makes him sit up just a little straighter. you don’t just like this stuff—you care about it. and he gets that. because he cares too. he watches the way your hands move, the way you gesture like your words aren’t enough on their own. the way your eyes light up when you explain something, like you’re seeing it in your head as you say it. and it’s… nice.

as the conversation drags on, you feel the irritation you’ve been holding onto slowly start to slip away. at first, you thought seunghyun’d be the type of guy who leaves you to do all the work. but as he starts talking, you realize something you hadn’t anticipated. there’s this calm reason to his words, like he’s thought about what he’s saying before he says it—a kind of maturity in the way he talks. it’s not just facts he’s spitting out, it’s a genuine understanding. he’s making connections between things you hadn’t considered, filling in gaps you didn’t even know were there. and damn it, it makes you think twice. it messes with your entire perception of him.

“so, who’s your favorite greek sculptor?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost like he genuinely wants to know. you pause, considering. “it’s hard to pick,” you say, tapping your pen against the desk. “but if i had to choose, i’d go with praxiteles. he was one of the first to really capture natural human beauty. his sculptures, like the ‘hermes and the infant dionysus’, they’re just… they look like they could breathe, you know? like they’re alive.” you glance up to see him nodding. “yeah,” he murmurs. he falls silent for a moment, his eyes drifting down to his notebook. “for me, it’d probably be phidias,” he says. “the one who worked on the parthenon. his sculptures, especially the statue of athena… it’s just incredible.” he looks up at you then, a small, almost hesitant smile on his face. “there’s something about the way he made the gods feel so… human. like they were both divine and reachable at the same time.” “mhm.” you nod slowly. it’s strange—how much you find yourself agreeing with him.

he shifts in his seat, looking at the paper between you two but not really focusing on it anymore. “so, uh…” he starts, trailing off for a second like he’s trying to find the right words. “what do you usually do outside of class?” you glance at him, a little surprised by the sudden change in topic. “outside of class?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. “yeah,” he says, shrugging slightly. “just curious. got any weird hobbies?” you chuckle at the thought, leaning back in your chair. “weird hobbies? i don’t know about weird, but i like to read. i write a lot, too. and i sing, sometimes.” his eyes widen, and he looks at you with a kind of surprised excitement. “wait, you sing?” you nod, a little unsure of his reaction. “yeah, just for fun, though.” he’s practically leaning forward now, his voice more animated. “seriously? i like to sing too! but not like—i don’t perform or anything, but i mess around with writing songs sometimes.” you blink at him, surprised. “you write songs?” “yeah!” he says, his eyes lighting up as he talks. “mostly rap songs! just stuff i keep to myself. i don’t know, it helps me get my thoughts out.” you’re taken aback, not expecting that from him at all. “that’s… actually pretty cool! i didn’t think you’d be the type.” he chuckles a little, almost shy now, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah. i don’t know, music’s kind of a big deal for me.” “i get that. i mean, i feel the same way about writing. it’s like… the only way to really get everything out.” his smile softens, and he nods, almost like he’s relieved that you get it. “exactly. it’s the only way i know how to say what i’m feeling.” he pauses, then adds, “i guess we’re not that different, huh?” you grin, a little more comfortable with him now. “guess not.”

weeks go by, and somehow, without you really noticing when it happened, you stop dreading working with seunghyun. at first, it was just about getting the project done—tolerating his presence, keeping things academically professional. but somewhere along the way, that changes. you start meeting up outside of class—not just in the library, but in the university cafeteria, sometimes even grabbing a table outside when the weather’s nice. at first, it’s always under the excuse of we need to finish this, but little by little, the project stops being the main focus of your meetings. it starts with small things. “you drink your coffee black?” you ask one afternoon, watching as he stirs his drink. he glances up at you, raising an eyebrow. “sometimes. why?” you wrinkle your nose, shaking your head. “no sugar, no milk… nothing?” “nope. not today,” he says, taking a sip like it’s no big deal. “you think that’s weird?” “oh, definitely.” he chuckles, shaking his head. “coming from someone who drowns theirs in sugar? right.” you scoff, feigning offense. “excuse me for liking some flavor in my life.” he only smirks, taking another sip of his coffee. and you don’t know why, but you find yourself watching the way his fingers wrap around the cup, the way he always waits a second before actually drinking. “talking about coffee,” seunghyun clears his throat. “i—i’m sorry for bumping into you that day. and for your blouse.” you blink, a little thrown by the sudden apology. you hadn’t expected him to bring it up. for a second, you almost forgot about that. but the memory comes back in full color—the embarrassment, the heat of the coffee soaking into fabric, and, worst of all, the way you heard him laugh right after. you shrug, forcing a small smile. “it’s fine! stuff happens.” but it doesn’t come out as smooth as you want it to. he notices. “look, i—i wasn’t laughing at you.” you don’t say anything, just arch a brow. “i mean, yeah, i laughed. but it wasn’t, like—fuck, i just do that when i’m nervous.” he lets out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “it’s a stupid reflex. i wasn’t trying to be an asshole.” “nervous?” you echo, curiosity edging into your voice. he hesitates for a second. “i don’t know. you caught me off guard.” “it’s okay! really.” “it won’t happen again, i promise.” “what, spilling my coffee? or the nervous laughing?” you grin. “both. if i can help it.” he smiles back.

one afternoon, you’re both hunched over your notebooks at your usual table in the cafeteria, trying to put together a proper analysis for the project, when he suddenly groans, running a hand through his hair. “okay, i need a break.” “agreed,” you sigh, stretching your arms over your head. “i think my brain is melting.” he leans back in his chair, exhaling. “we should just drop out. open a karaoke bar instead.” you hum, pretending to consider it. “tempting. but i think we’d go bankrupt in a week.” “probably,” he admits, smirking slightly. then, a sudden gust of wind blows through the open door. a few loose sheets of paper fly off the table, and you both reach for them at the same time. your hands brush, just for a second. you freeze. he does too. but instead of pulling away immediately, he hesitates. it’s barely noticeable, but you feel it—his fingers just lingering before he finally lets go. you don’t look at him, just focus on gathering the papers, but your heart beats a little faster anyway. he clears his throat, sitting back. “we should probably staple these,” he says, voice a little quieter than before. “yeah,” you mutter, shuffling the pages together.

another day, you find yourselves in the campus library, tucked away in a quiet corner where barely anyone goes. at first, it’s about the project—like it always is—but before long, you’re talking about anything but that. “okay, real question,” you say, tapping your pen against your notebook. “if you could live in any painting, which one would it be?” seunghyun leans back, arms crossed. he barely takes a second to think. “anything by kandinsky.” “oohh! good choice!” “right? it’d be like living inside music.” you nod, smiling. “i guess that suits you.” “what about you?” he asks, gaze flicking to you. you think for a moment before saying, “‘the garden of earthly delights.’” he lets out a low laugh. “crazy choice.” “shut up.” you laugh too. “i mean, it’s chaotic, sure, but it’d never be boring. plus, i’d be surrounded by nature—which i love—and i’d also get to hang out with weird little creatures all day.” seunghyun has to stifle the loud laugh scratching his throat. “it’s an orgy,” he says. you blink. “what?” “‘the garden of earthly delights.’ you picked a medieval sex party. should i be concerned?” you burst out laughing and a student a few tables away shoots you a look over their glasses, pressing a finger to their lips. “okay, first of all, that is not the reason i picked it.” you whisper, biting back another laugh. “but it’s there,” he insists, raising a brow. “like, everyone in that painting is naked.” “but they’re just eating fruit,” you retort. “yeah, and fruit is like… the biggest metaphor for sex ever. come on now.” you shake your head, still laughing softly, trying to contain yourself. “i just like that it’s weird, okay? it looks like something out of a fever dream. plus, i feel like bosch was on something when he painted it, and honestly? i respect that.” “so what you’re saying is, you wanna live in chaos.” “no, i wanna live somewhere that would never be boring. kinda like you picking kandinsky. kandinsky is chaos too, just in a different font,” you tease, arms crossing over your chest. “dude’s entire thing is just shapes and color explosions. what does that say about you?” he grins. “it says i’m fun.” “it says you have the attention span of a goldfish.” his mouth falls open in exaggerated offense. “okay, rude.” your laughter spills out again, earning you another round of disapproving stares from a group of students at a nearby table. one of them—not even looking up from their notes—goes, “shhh!”

seunghyun leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the table. his eyes flicker over your face, thoughtful. “what?” you ask, raising a brow. he shrugs. “nothing. just… you’re different from what i expected.” “that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?” his lips twitch. “take it as a compliment.” he grins, but there’s something in his expression—something a little too observant, like he’s picking apart a puzzle piece by piece. “so? what did you expect?” he hesitates for just a second before saying, “i don’t know.” he does know, or at least, he has some idea. he expected someone easier to read. but you’re not easy to read, and now he’s realizing that the more he pays attention, the more there is to figure out. he just doesn’t know how to say it. but he’s also noticed the cracks, the way some days you seem a little quieter, like you’re carrying something heavier than you let on. he wonders if you even realize it, how your guard slips in the smallest ways. maybe he shouldn’t say anything. maybe it’s not his place. but the words slip before he can stop himself. “i’ve noticed some days you’re different. like… sad.” it catches you so off guard that you don’t even know what to say for a moment. you force a small scoff. “everyone has off days.” he doesn’t buy it. “yeah, but not everyone acts like they don’t.” his voice is softer now, more careful. “i just—i think you’re good at keeping people out.” “most people aren’t worth letting in,” you reply. “i get that. sorry, i’m—i mean, i notice because i do the same thing,” he admits. the way he says it, like he actually sees you, makes your chest feel tight. you press your tongue against the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the way your pulse has picked up. “i think you like analyzing people too much.” seunghyun snorts. “only when they’re interesting.” you open your mouth to respond, but you hesitate, suddenly hyperaware of how close he is. when did he lean in like that? or were you the one who moved? “right, okay,” you clear your throat, shifting in your seat and looking down at the books in front of you. “so, back to the hellenistic period. sculptures are less perfect compared to the classical period, more real. i’ll do the analysis of venus de milo, you can work on laocoön and his sons, if that’s okay with you.” he chuckles softly. “sure. sounds good to me.”

and when you’re walking together out of campus after—the sun already starting to set outside—he asks, “wait, have you ever been to the art gallery downtown?” you blink at him. “which one?” “the modern art gallery,” he says, hands tucked into his pockets, hoodie pulled up over his head. “they’ve got an exhibit on abstract and expressionist paintings right now. thought you might be interested.” you hesitate for a second, caught off guard. “you’ve been?” he nods. “yeah. went last week.” “alone?” “yeah.” he shrugs like it’s nothing. “sometimes it’s nice to go without distractions.” “weirdo,” you joke, and he chuckles. then you hum, considering it. “maybe i’ll check it out.” “you should,” he says, then—after a pause—“i could go again. if you wanted.” you glance at him, but he’s looking straight ahead, like he didn’t just say something that makes your stomach feel weird. you don’t answer right away. but you don’t say no, either.

a few days later, you end up at a park near campus, sitting on a bench. “okay,” you say, exhaling, “this is officially the furthest we’ve strayed from our project.” he smirks. “we could talk about it now, if you want.” you groan dramatically, leaning your head back. “ugh. please, no. let me live.” he chuckles, shaking his head. then, he tugs his hoodie over his head, the fabric bunching up around his face when he pulls its strings slightly. you watch him for a second before the thought slips out. “why do you do that?” his gaze flicks to you. “do what?” “pull your hoodie up like that. you do it all the time.” he exhales a quiet laugh, looking away. “i just… i don’t know. makes me feel more… covered?” he hesitates, then adds, almost like it’s an afterthought, “and i don’t like my ears getting cold.” “your ears?” “yeah.” but you know that look on his face. and you know the feeling, too. the urge to shrink youself, to avoid giving people something to make fun of. “i like your ears.” his head lifts slightly, eyes meeting yours in surprise. “what?” you shrug. “they’re nice.” for the first time, he actually looks caught off guard. “that’s… weirdly specific,” he laughs softly. “just take the compliment, hyun,” you say, rolling your eyes with a smile. he freezes for half a second. hyun? since when do you call him that? do you even realize you said it? he clears his throat, shifting like he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with himself. it’s just a nickname. it’s not a big deal. people shorten names all the time. but there’s this weird warmth settling in his chest, and he hates how much he notices it. “it was… it was genuine,” you add. “i used to be really insecure about them. my ears, i mean. well, actually… i used to be really insecure about a lot of things when i was younger.” “really?” “yeah. and people can be brutal. i got called all kinds of things. made me not want to talk much, not want to draw attention to myself.” your brows pull together as you listen. he’s opening up, letting you see a part of him that he probably doesn’t show most people. and you don’t take that lightly. “i’m talking too much again, aren’t i? i’m sorry—“ “you can talk about it,” you reassure him. “i’m listening.” you care? he wasn’t expecting that at all. “i just… never really felt comfortable in my own skin.” “i get that. i… i feel the same way.” “seriously?” “yeah. when i was younger most people thought i was weird. and i’ve never been the prettiest either. no one really looked at me.” “that’s crazy to me.” “why?” you ask, frowning. “why? are you kidding me? look at you!” his eyes flick away, like he just realized what he said. “i mean—” he clears his throat. “i don’t think you’re weird at all. you’re—you’re kind, and sweet, and funny, and smart as hell, and understanding…” he pauses. “and i think you’re very pretty, too.” you feel heat rise to your cheeks. “thanks, seunghyun,” you smile at him. “but—“ “ah, ah.” he shakes his head, pointing at you with his index finger. and in the same tone you used earlier, he says, “just take the compliment.” and you both laugh. the conversation drifts after that. you talk about books, music, childhood stories. and at some point, you glance at him and realize—he’s not as bad as you once thought. you could even consider him your friend at this point. and before you know it, you’re kind of looking forward to these moments.

saturday morning. it’s supposed to be a normal day. just you and your boyfriend, going from store to store, him carrying the bags while you browse through clothes, debating whether you really need another sweater. you don’t expect to see him. but then, as you’re exiting a store, laughing at something your boyfriend says, you hear a familiar voice. “oh. hey.” you stop mid-step, looking up. seunghyun is standing a few feet away, eyebrows raised. and he’s not alone. next to him, holding onto his arm, is a girl. she’s pretty. really pretty. she has that effortless kind of elegance, the type of girl you’d expect to see in an old film, with delicate jewelry and a perfect smile. you weren’t expecting this. you weren’t expecting him at all, let alone with someone. for a second, no one speaks. then, because you have to, you clear your throat. “uh—hey.” he nods, glancing at your boyfriend, then back at you. oh. right. introductions. that’s what people do, right? introduce their significant others? “so uhm… this is my boyfriend,” you say, nudging him slightly. your boyfriend extends a hand. “nice to meet you, man.” seunghyun hesitates—just for a fraction of a second—before shaking it. “yeah. you too.” then, as if remembering his own situation, he shifts slightly. “and… this is my girlfriend.” girlfriend…? she smiles, polite. “hi.” you don’t know why it feels weird. you force a small smile back. “nice to meet you.”

there’s a beat of silence, awkward and heavy, before your boyfriend gestures to the shopping bags in his hand. “someone got a little carried away,” he chuckles. “hey!” you nudge him, feigning offense. “i needed all of this.” seunghyun huffs a quiet laugh, barely noticeable, but you catch it. “are you guys shopping too?” you ask, because the silence is unbearable. “not really,” his girlfriend answers before he can. “just walking around, grabbing coffee.” “oh, nice,” you say, nodding, even though that doesn’t really keep the conversation going. you glance at him, searching for something else to say. “so no shopping spree for you?” he shakes his head. “no, not today. i don’t shop that much.” “right. you’re more of a ‘spend hours in an art gallery alone’ kind of guy.” you were trying to bring some humor into the conversation but oh my god. why did you say that? was that even a joke? (literally no one laughed…) his lips twitch slightly, like he wants to smile but doesn’t. “yeah.” another silence. his girlfriend tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking between the two of you. “so… how do you guys know each other?” “we’re working on a project together,” you say quickly. “for our ‘history of art’ class,” seunghyun adds, voice quieter than yours. she hums, nodding. “that’s nice.” you don’t miss the way she squeezes his arm slightly, like a subconscious claim.

your boyfriend, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice the awkward tension, but you do. seunghyun does. maybe it’s because, for weeks now, it’s just been you and him, meeting up, talking, working together. and somehow, in all that time, neither of you ever mentioned the people waiting for you outside of those moments. “we should—” you start, at the same time he says, “well, we—” you both stop. you let out a small, breathy laugh, and he exhales, shaking his head. “see you in class,” he says eventually. “yeah,” you nod. “see you.” and then you’re both walking in opposite directions, like that wasn’t weird at all.

it shouldn’t feel weird. it shouldn’t feel like anything. but your mind keeps circling back to it a day after. to him. to her. you don’t know why it caught you so off guard. or why it lingers now. maybe it’s the fact that you spent all these weeks talking to seunghyun, learning little pieces of him in a way that felt… too personal. and neither of you ever mentioned having a significant other. why? because he never asked? because you never did? because it never felt necessary? or because, deep down, some part of you didn’t want to say it? you swallow, shaking off the thought, forcing yourself to focus on something else. you’re just overthinking the situation. you have a boyfriend and seunghyun and you are just… classmates? friends? whatever.

class feels different on monday. not in a way anyone else would notice, but you feel it. in the way you and seunghyun settle into your usual seats, in the way neither of you says anything at first. usually, by now, one of you would’ve made some kind of comment, but today, there’s just silence. you busy yourself by flipping through your notes, pretending to be more focused than you actually are. he clears his throat. “did you finish the research on the kouros statues?” you nod. “yeah. i wrote some notes about the stylistic differences over time.” “good,” he says. “we can work on the structure later.” and that’s it. just straight to business. what a great way to start the day…! it annoys you. so, before you can stop yourself, you blurt it out. “you never told me you had a girlfriend.” you try to say it in a playful tone but you fail terribly at it. he looks at you. “you never told me you had a boyfriend,” he replies in the same awkward way. there’s a beat of silence after that, just enough for the words to hang between you two. then, unexpectedly, he chuckles—soft, like he’s trying to shake off the awkwardness. “guess we’re both bad at this,” he says, half-smiling. you snort, rolling your eyes. “yeah, apparently.” he leans back in his seat a little, fingers tapping lightly on his notebook. “so, how long?” you raise an eyebrow. “how long what?” “how long have you been with him? if you don’t mind me asking.” you bite your lip for a second, debating how much to share. “like… a little under two years,” you say finally. “we met online.” seunghyun raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “online?” “yeah, on instagram. i posted a picture, and he texted me after that. i know, it sounds kinda pathetic, but that’s how it happened.” you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed admitting it, but you shrug it off. “we’ve been together ever since… he’s my first love.” “not judging,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips. you’re grateful he doesn’t make you feel weird about it. “what about you two?” “we’ve been together for a while too. a year and a few months. she’s also my first love. i met her through a mutual friend,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “we were hanging out at one of his parties, we started talking, and… here we are.” “that sounds more normal than my story.” he shrugs, a small grin tugging at his lips. “hey, it worked out, right?” “yeah, it did,” you agree, smiling slightly.

but oh, if only he knew. the last couple of months have been… hard. a constant string of arguments, over the smallest things. it’s like every time you talk, it turns into a fight. you thought it was just a rough patch, but it doesn’t feel like a patch anymore. it started small at first—just him being a little distant. but it kept growing. he used to say “i love you” all the time, like it was the easiest thing in the world. but now? it’s like those words are stuck in his throat, like he’s forgotten how to say them, or worse—like he doesn’t want to say them anymore. you’ve noticed how he’s been putting others before you too, choosing to hang out with his friends or canceling plans with you last minute without a real reason. it hurts, and you don’t know how to fix it. but you can’t tell seunghyun that.

but to your surprise, after a beat of silence, seunghyun says, “it’s funny.” voice quieter than usual, almost like he’s not sure whether he should admit this. “things have been a little… rough with my girlfriend lately.” you blink. there’s something about hearing him say that, something about knowing you’re not the only one struggling, that makes you feel a little lighter. not because you want him to be going through something hard too, but because it makes you feel like it’s normal. like maybe every relationship has its bumps.“what do you mean?” you ask, leaning forward slightly. “i don’t know. we’re just… not clicking like we used to. it feels like we can’t talk without it turning into an argument, and i hate it.” he pauses. “like—when you made that joke the other day, about me going to art galleries alone, she got mad at me for even telling you about it. she said it ‘put her in a bad light’ because she doesn’t do those things with me… but she’s the one who doesn’t want to come, even when i ask.” you feel a pang of guilt, like your joke somehow made things worse. "sorry," you say, glancing at him. "i didn't mean to stir anything up." seunghyun shakes his head, like it's not a big deal at all. "oh, no. it was just an example. it's not your fault," he says. then, he shifts in his seat, suddenly looking more uncomfortable than before, like he’s regretting saying anything at all. “look, i didn’t mean to dump that on you,” he says quickly, his voice awkward now. “i… i love my girlfriend, you know? i’m just frustrated. it’s not… it’s not that bad or anything.” you can see the nervousness in his eyes, the way he avoids your gaze, trying to brush off what he said. it’s clear he wasn’t expecting to let that out. but you can also see how much he’s trying to act like everything is fine, even though it’s obvious he’s not. just like you. “hey,” you say softly, reaching across the table just a little, enough for him to hear the sincerity in your voice. “it’s okay. i get it. relationships aren’t always easy.” you take a breath, then decide to be honest. “i’ve been feeling the same way with my boyfriend. we’ve been fighting a lot lately, and it’s… tough. we’re just… constantly butting heads.”

he goes quiet after that. like, really quiet. there’s something in his dark eyes—hesitation, maybe. or relief. like he needed to hear that he wasn’t alone in this, that someone else out there was struggling with the same messy, frustrating parts of love. and then, almost abruptly, he suggests it. skipping the rest of the day. just ditching everything and going to that same art gallery. it catches you off guard, but you don’t even hesitate before nodding.

the gallery is damn near empty at that hour, just the two of you wandering through halls lined with color and shadow, bathed in soft overhead lights that make everything feel a little more intimate. there’s something about being here, surrounded by all this art, that makes it easier to breathe. you both stop at the first painting that catches your eye—a massive canvas of deep blues, layered thick like it’s been slathered on with a palette knife, with jagged streaks of gold cutting through the darkness like lightning. you let out a quiet ‘fuck’, barely above a whisper. seunghyun huffs a small laugh. “looks like someone was trying to do rothko but got pissed off halfway through.” you smirk, tilting your head. “nah, this is too aggressive for rothko. feels more like franz kline, but with, like… a caravaggio-level obsession with drama.” his lips twitch. “yeah, i see that. but notice how the gold isn’t just random—it’s balanced. it pulls your eye across the whole thing, cutting through the shades of blue.” you’re quiet for a moment, taking it in. “dependency,” you say. “the gold wouldn’t mean anything without the darkness of the blue.” he looks at you, eyes glinting under the gallery lights. “exactly.” and that’s how it goes. you move through the gallery slowly, stopping at every piece, actually talking about the art, finding beauty in all of it. even the weird, messy, seemingly meaningless ones. it’s easy, because you both get it. you see the details, the choices, the way every piece has something to say. you pause in front of a sculpture—a chaotic mess of rusted metal, welded together at impossible angles. “brutalist, but trying to be constructivist,” you murmur, circling it. “like… it wants to have structure, but it’s resisting.” seunghyun chuckles. “or maybe it’s collapsing. like tatlin’s tower, if they’d actually built it and just let it rot.” “okay, points for that reference.” he grins. “i know my stuff.”

somewhere along the way, the conversation shifts. you start talking about relationships, about the ways they fall apart. but it doesn’t feel heavy. because you’re realizing how fucking similar your relationships are, and in a way, how similar you and seunghyun are too. it makes you feel less lonely. “it’s always the same thing,” you say, shaking your head. “getting angry when i ask what’s wrong, giving me the silent treatment, then blaming me about every bad-fucking-thing that’s ever happened to him—calling me a crazy bitch just to come back a day after, acting like everything’s fine.” “yeah, fucks with your head, makes you question if you’re actually the problem when really, he’s just deflecting.” he shifts his weight, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “guys like that, they don’t know how to handle their own shit, so they make it yours.” he glances at you, voice softer now. “but you know that, right? that it’s not you?” you let out a bitter laugh, rubbing a hand over your face. “i mean, i tell myself that. but after a while, it’s like… how many times can someone treat you like shit before you start wondering if maybe you deserve it?” “you don’t,” he reassures. seunghyun’s jaw tightens, his gaze flicking away for a second. “i know that feeling too.” he hesitates, like he’s debating whether to say it. “with my girlfriend, it’s different, but also not. it’s like—she just won’t fucking talk to me. she gets mad at me for not knowing what’s wrong, but then when i ask, she shuts down. and she treats me like shit when that happens too. she yells at me, calls me names, ignores my texts… makes me feel like an idiot for even trying.” “like she expects you to read her mind.” he nods, huffing a short laugh. “exactly. and then when i give her space, it’s ‘you don’t care.’ when i push to talk, it’s ‘you don’t respect boundaries.’ i can’t—i don’t know, everything i do is fucking wrong in her eyes.” you scoff. “god, it’s the same thing. like, just say what you want! say what you mean! don’t make me guess.” seunghyun lets out a sharp exhale, like he’s been holding that in for too long. “right?! i hate that shit. like, i’m here. i want to fix it. but how the fuck am i supposed to do that if she won’t even let me in?” there’s a pause, the weight of both your words settling in the quiet gallery. “makes you wonder if it’s even worth it,” you murmur. seunghyun’s lips press into a thin line, his fingers tightening in his pockets. “yeah.” he exhales, looking up at the ceiling like it might have the answer. “but then they apologize, and suddenly it’s like none of it ever happened. and you want to believe it, because for those few hours or days, it feels good again.” you nod, because you know exactly what he means. “and then it starts all over.” he looks at you then, eyes meeting yours like he’s searching for something. “yeah.”

silence settles between you and your gaze drifts to the painting in front of you. but your eyes don’t stay on it for long. without really meaning to, you glance at seunghyun. he’s standing there, just a little in front of you, his gaze fixed on the painting, like he’s seeing something no one else can. the soft lighting catches the sharp angles of his jaw, the high planes of his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, his dark hair falling just a little out of place—it’s almost unfair how effortlessly attractive he is. you should look away. but you don’t. and then, like he can feel your gaze, he shifts. his eyes flicker toward you, catching you in the act. your breath stumbles. but he doesn’t say anything—just holds your gaze for a second too long, a knowing smile tugging at his lips before he looks back at the painting. and you swear the air feels warmer after that. what the hell is happening to you?

months pass, and you’re closer than ever. one day, he’s just some guy you had a class with, and then, somehow, he’s your best friend. the project you worked on together? you absolutely crushed it—high marks, glowing feedback from your professor, the kind of result that makes all the half-serious arguments about formatting feel worth it. now you hang out all the time. and not just around campus—you start meeting up outside, too. going to the cinema together, picking dumb movies just to make fun of them. letting him come over to your place, where he inevitably kicks your ass at whatever game you decide to play—but then grumbles when you start getting better and actually put up a fight. some days, you just drive around aimlessly, talking about everything and nothing, stopping for food at sketchy places that somehow have the best food you’ve ever tried. you also help him with his relationship problems, and he helps with yours. well, help is a strong word—mostly, you just sit around, venting, analyzing every little thing your significant others do, trying to make sense of it all. sometimes, you’ll lie on his couch, scrolling through texts, trying to decode what a delayed response or a vague message really means. other times, he’s the one ranting, pacing the room, running a frustrated hand through his hair. neither of you have any real answers, but somehow, just saying it out loud makes it easier to carry.

the texting never stops either. even after spending the whole day together, even when you know you’ll see each other tomorrow. memes, whatever pops into your head at midnight, reminders about class or inside jokes from earlier in the day, thoughts about love and life. messages that start lighthearted but end up lingering in your mind long after the conversation ends. he’s the person you call when something good happens. he’s also the person you call when everything sucks. he becomes part of your life in a way that feels permanent. like even if everything else changes, he’ll still be there.

well, surprise! you are very wrong! it happens slowly at first, so slowly that you almost don’t notice it. a missed call here, a delayed text there. seunghyun stops responding as quickly, but you tell yourself it’s nothing—maybe he’s just busy. but then, suddenly, there’s no texting at all. he stops reaching out, and when you text first, the replies are short, distant, like he’s talking to a stranger instead of you. at first, you brush it off. maybe he’s just going through something. you give him space, waiting for him to come back on his own. but then he starts avoiding you in person, too. in class, he stops sitting next to you. when you try to talk to him, he keeps it brief, like the past few months never even happened. so you try. you crack jokes, hoping to lighten the mood. he barely reacts. you ask if he wants to grab coffee after class, and there’s always an excuse. but you’re stubborn. you keep trying, keep telling yourself that maybe he just needs time. maybe if you push a little harder, he’ll tell you what’s wrong. maybe he’ll go back to being the seunghyun you know. but he doesn’t. so eventually, you stop. because there’s only so many times you can knock on a closed door before you realize no one’s going to open it.

but fuck, you miss him. you miss seunghyun so much… in all the small, stupid ways that sneak up on you. you miss the way he used to walk you home after class, even when it was completely out of his way. how he’d always offer you his jacket without making a big deal out of it, just drape it over your shoulders. you miss how he’d send you voice notes instead of texts when he was tired, his voice soft and half-laughing as he complained about his day. like how he accidentally bought decaf coffee and didn’t realize until he’d already had two cups. or when he got locked out and had to convince the neighbor to let him climb across their balcony to reach his window—commentary and all, like he was narrating his own survival special. you miss sitting next to him during boring lectures, passing notes like you were in high school again—little doodles, sarcastic comments, the occasional ‘want to skip and get tteokbokki?’ scrawled in messy handwriting. how he’d always save you a seat beside him, even when he didn’t need to. you miss sharing your music with him, like that rainy afternoon you spent at the bus stop together, both of you soaked and laughing, sharing one headphone while waiting for a bus that never came. you miss how he’d always remember the little things—your favorite candy, the name of that song you liked for two weeks straight, the way you hated talking on the phone but would answer when it was him.

you love your boyfriend. you do. you’ve fought for this relationship, worked through the rough patches, stayed when it would’ve been easier to walk away. so why does your heart feel so heavy when you think about seunghyun? why do these stupid little memories of him make your chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with losing a friend? and then it hits you. you were starting to fall for seunghyun. the realization slams into you like a truck, knocking the air right out of your lungs. your stomach twists, guilt rising up so fast it makes you dizzy. you squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head as if that’ll get rid of the thoughts. it’s nothing. just stupid feelings messing with you because you miss seunghyun as a friend. that’s all. it has to be. but deep down, you know. you don’t want to deal with this. any of it. it makes you sick. you try to shove it down, bury it deep where it can’t touch you. but the more you try to push it away, the worse it gets. anger starts to creep in, and you start resenting seunghyun. resentment is easier. that’s what you tell yourself. it’s easier than facing the awful, sinking truth—that you like him. that, somewhere along the way, he started meaning too much. so you turn that feeling into something bitter. it’s easier to hate him for pushing you away without an explanation.

you don’t say hi when you pass each other on campus. he doesn’t either. you just walk by like two people who never meant a damn thing to each other. in class, is where it’s the worst. you’re stuck two rows apart, forced to exist in the same space, forced to hear his voice, and it pisses you off. everything about him pisses you off again now. so when the discussion turns to a painting you know he’s wrong about, you jump at the chance. “that’s not what it means,” you say. seunghyun pauses mid-sentence. his jaw tightens slightly. “i wasn’t talking to you.” “yeah, well, you’re still wrong.” you lean back in your seat, arms crossed, glare locked onto him. “the artist literally said in an interview that the painting was about grief, not isolation.” “and what, you suddenly know more than everyone now?” “i know how to read.” he exhales through his nose. “interpretation exists for a reason. it doesn’t have to mean just one thing.” “so your interpretation is just better than the artist’s own words? that makes total sense.” someone snickers a few seats over. the professor looks unimpressed but doesn’t step in. “are you done?” he asks. “no, i’m not,” you reply before stating your opinion and interpretation of the painting. seunghyun shakes his head, muttering something under his breath.

the bickering continues for months. that class turns into a battlefield, every discussion an excuse to dig into each other. it doesn’t even matter what the topic is anymore—if seunghyun says one thing, you find a way to contradict it. if you make a point, he challenges it. he acts like he doesn’t care, but he does. you see it in the way his jaw tightens when you cut him off. in the way his fingers drum against the desk when your words hit a little too hard. in the way his voice gets sharper, more clipped, when he finally bites back. good! you want him to feel as frustrated as you do, as angry as you do. but one day, when the class ends and you’re gathering your things ready to leave, you feel fingers wrap around your wrist. firm, but not rough. seunghyun. your breath catches. he’s barely touched you before, but now, he’s pulling you aside, out of the classroom, into the quieter hallway. “why are you doing this?” he asks, frustrated. you snatch your wrist out of his grasp. “doing what?” he lets out a slow breath. “you know what.” you do. of course you do. “you should know.” his eyes search yours before his shoulders drop slightly, and he steps back. “okay.” you scoff. “okay? that’s all you have to say?” “what else do you want me to say?” “i want an explanation.” the words snap out before you can stop them. “you just—you just left, seunghyun.” his jaw clenches. “that’s not—” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “nothing happened.” “what?” “nothing happened.” he repeats, like that somehow makes it better. “there’s no explanation. i just—” he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “it’s nothing.” “don’t lie.” “i’m not lying.” “yes, you are!” you snap. “you don’t just wake up one day and decide to cut someone out of your life for nothing.” he doesn’t say anything. you narrow your eyes. “was it because of her?” his brows furrow slightly. “what?” “your girlfriend.” you say, sharper this time. “is that why? she didn’t like me or something?” his whole posture stiffens. “no. that’s not—” he shakes his head. “this has nothing to do with her.” “then why?” “i don’t know what you want me to say.” “i want the truth.” “there’s no—” “you always complained about her not telling you what was wrong, even when you asked. now i’m asking you, hyun,” your voice sounds almost pleading. “i’m asking you to be fucking honest with me. did i do something wrong? i just—please. please, tell me.” for a split second, something flickers across his face. something real. but then it’s gone, buried under that frustrating, detached calm of his. seunghyun swallows, his gaze dropping to the floor. “i already told you. there’s nothing to explain.” and that’s when it really sinks in. he’s not going to tell you. he’s not going to give you answers. you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the way your throat tightens. “okay,” you say quietly, almost in a whisper. “have a good day, seunghyun.”

when the academic year ends, you feel like you can finally breathe. the weight of seeing seunghyun every day finally lifts, and you don’t realize how much it was draining you until it’s gone. summer feels like a breath of fresh air. no classes to deal with, no more running into him on campus. you actually start to feel better. the long days blend into each other, and the heat is almost a relief, as if the sun can melt away the last remnants of all the mess that’s been building up inside you. you spend time with friends, with your boyfriend, with family, dive into your hobbies—things that make you feel again, instead of being stuck in that heavy, frustrating place you were in just a few months ago.

the day feels like any other. it’s one of those lazy summer days, the kind that stretches on, with no obligations in sight. you’re in the kitchen, a soft hum of music filling the space as you chop vegetables for your lunch. it’s a soothing task, one that lets you lose yourself in the rhythm while the world spins on without much thought. then, your phone rings. the sound slices through the calm, pulling your attention to the screen. the moment you see the name, your heart skips a beat. seunghyun. you freeze, knife halfway through slicing a carrot. the world feels like it slows down for a moment. it’s been months since you last heard from him, since that final conversation you thought would be the last. you can feel your breath catch in your chest as your mind races. why is he calling now? what could he possibly want? you stare at his name, watching the screen flash. your fingers hover over the phone, torn. there’s a part of you that wants to ignore it, to send him straight to voicemail. it would be easier, right? just let him stay in the past where he belongs. but another part of you wants to know why he’s calling. you’ll regret it if you don’t pick up.

with a sharp exhale, you swipe your finger across the screen. “hello?” your voice sounds smaller than you expected. there’s a long silence on the other end. you can hear faint sounds—shuffling, soft breaths, maybe a sniffle—and then, his voice cracks through, shaky and broken. “hey…” your stomach drops. there’s something wrong. something off in his tone. “seunghyun?” you whisper, suddenly feeling the weight of his name. he doesn’t respond right away, and you can hear him sniffle again. “i—” his voice cracks. “are you okay?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, panic creeping up your spine. there’s a long pause. you wait, heart pounding in your ears. and then, his voice comes, quieter this time. “no. i’m not okay.” you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the tension in his voice seeping into your bones. “what’s going on?” you ask, your words coming out urgent, concerned. “hyun, talk to me.” there’s a shaky breath on the other end before he finally speaks. “she cheated on me.” it’s the last thing you expected to hear. you swallow. “what? your girlfriend?” “i found out a couple days ago,” he continues, his words slow, like he’s choosing each one carefully. “she… she left her phone unlocked. and i didn’t mean to snoop i swear, but i saw messages—pictures, stuff i shouldn’t have seen. i knew something was off before, but seeing it…” you wince, not sure what to say. you can’t imagine what he must’ve been going through. “i’m sorry,” you say quietly, the words feeling too small. he lets out a shaky sigh, and you hear him breathe in like he’s trying to pull himself together. “yeah, well… it’s done now. we argued for days, but today, i… i ended it. it’s over.” “oh. i’m sorry, hyun, i… i don’t know what to say.” there’s a long pause, and when he speaks again, it’s with an almost defeated tone. “i… i didn’t mean to call you. i just—i don’t know,” he says, his words stumbling over each other. “i didn’t want to bother you. i-i shouldn’t have called. i don’t know why i did.” he’s almost apologizing, and the guilt in his voice makes you frown. “don’t hang up,” you say quickly, before you even think about it. “please don’t hang up.” “i’m sorry for calling you out of nowhere.” you feel a pang of sadness at his words. “it’s okay,” you reply. “you don’t have to apologize for calling. i’m here, okay? you can talk to me.”

seunghyun sits there, phone pressed to his ear, wondering how you can still be here for him after everything, after he pushed you away. the guilt eats at him, every part of him screaming that he doesn’t deserve to have someone like you by his side. “i thought you’d be done with me by now,” he says, almost in a whisper. you shake your head even though he can’t see you, your hand gripping the phone a little tighter. “we were friends, seunghyun,” you remind him, your voice gentle. “i know things got messed up, but… we were friends. best friends. and i told you i’d always be there for you.” you pause, chewing on your lower lip for a moment, before you finally say what you’ve been thinking. “if you want, i can come over. we can talk… or not talk. whatever you need.” you hold your breath, waiting for his response. there’s a long, stunned silence on the other end. “you want to see me?” he asks, like he can’t believe it. “yeah, of course.” “i don’t deserve your help.” “you do. please, let me.” there’s a slight hesitation before he speaks again. “okay. i won’t keep you long. i don’t want to be a burden.” “you’re not,” you assure him. “give me an hour and i’ll be there.”

as soon as you reach his place, you knock lightly, your heart hammering in your chest. the door creaks open a few seconds later. he looks awful. his eyes are red and swollen, his hair messy. he’s in a hoodie that hangs loosely on his frame, and the exhaustion in his face makes him look smaller. for a moment, neither of you move. no words are exchanged. then, without overanalyzing, you step forward and wrap your arms around him. he tenses at first, like he wasn’t expecting it, but then he just… melts. his arms tighten around you, his face burying into your shoulder as his body shakes. and then, quietly, he starts crying. you feel his tears soak into your shirt but you don’t pull away. you just hold him, one hand running soothingly over his back.

you spend the entire summer trying to pull seunghyun out of the darkness he’s buried himself in. he barely leaves his house, barely eats unless you remind him, barely sleeps. and you can’t stand it. you can’t stand seeing him like this—so broken. so you do what you can. you show up. every single day. some days, it’s just sitting with him in comfortable silence, letting him exist without forcing him to talk. other days, you try to drag him outside, finding little excuses to get him moving. “come on,” you tell him one afternoon, standing in his living room with your hands on your hips. “let’s go get ice cream.” he’s curled up on the couch, hood pulled over his head, despite the unbearable heat outside. you’re not surprised—he once told you he likes to be covered up. “i’m good,” he mumbles, not even looking at you. you roll your eyes and walk over, grabbing the hood and yanking it off. “no, you’re not, liar. you haven’t left this room in days. come on, seunghyun. you love ice cream.” he sighs, rubbing his face. “i’m not in the mood.” “that’s exactly why we’re going.” you grab his arm, pulling until he finally gets up.

one day you even made him dance with you. it was late, music playing softly from your speakers. you were already swaying to the beat, grinning at him from across the room. “come on, dance with me.” he scoffed, arms crossed. “yeah, no.” “why not?” “because i don’t dance.” you rolled your eyes. “don’t lie. you literally have like five videos on instagram of you dancing in front of your mirror.” “that’s different,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “is it?” you raised an eyebrow. “what about that time you started dancing in the middle of the crosswalk because that one guy’s car stereo was blasting usher?” he tried to suppress a smile, but failed. “okay, that doesn’t count either. i was just being silly.” “be silly with me now, then. everyone dances, hyun.” you stepped closer and grabbed his wrists, trying to tug him away from the wall. he resisted at first, feet planted like a grumpy little kid, but you didn’t let up. until finally, with a dramatic sigh, he let you pull him toward the center of the room. “this is dumb,” he grumbled. “you’re dumb,” you shot back. “just move.” at first he was stiff, awkward, his shoulders tense and eyes focused anywhere but on you. but you didn’t care. you kept swaying, guiding him with a light grip and a grin, your voice humming along with the music. and slowly he loosened up. just a little. “see? not so bad.” he let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, his eyes flicking down to you, soft around the edges. like he wanted to argue, but didn’t have it in him. not when it was you.

eventually, he started coming back to himself. making jokes like he used to. but the first time you heard his real laugh again, after months, it nearly made you jump out of your seat. it happened at his house. you were sprawled out on his couch, flipping through a magazine, when you made an offhand comment about his wardrobe. “you literally have like three hoodies. and you wear them every day.” “rude,” he said flatly. “i have five.” you snorted. “right. and they all look exactly the same.” “it’s called having a brand.” “your brand is sad boy chic.” he tried to hold it in, pressing his lips together like that would stop it—but the laugh still slipped out. your eyes widened. “oh my god.” you sat up, staring at him. “are you laughing?” he shook his head, even as his mouth twitched up. “i’m not.” and then another chuckle escaped. your grin stretched wide. “you are!” he groaned, running a hand down his face. “shut up.”

one evening, you’re both out on his balcony, the sun just having dipped below the horizon, leaving streaks of deep orange and purple in the sky. the air is warm but cooling down, the distant hum of the city below mixing with the occasional rustling of leaves. seunghyun leans against the railing, cigarette between his fingers, the ember glowing faintly in the dim light. he takes a slow drag, exhaling the smoke into the evening air before wordlessly handing it to you. you hesitate for half a second before taking it, bringing it to your lips and inhaling just enough for the burn to settle in your lungs. you pass it back, watching as he taps the ash over the edge of the railing, gaze distant. he hasn’t said much in the past few minutes, which isn’t unusual, but there’s something about his silence that feels different. after a while, he sighs. “i need to tell you something.” you straighten a little, looking at him. “what is it?” “i think… i think i owe you an explanation,” he says. your stomach tightens. you know exactly what he means. “you don’t have to,” you reply, even though you’ve spent months dying to know. “i wasn’t honest with you back then. and… i want to be.” he pauses, rolling the cigarette between his fingers, gaze fixed on the darkened skyline. “the reason i… the reason i stopped talking to you is because—” he hesitates, jaw clenching. “because i liked you,” he finally says. your breath catches. “what?” he turns his head slightly, just enough to glance at you. “i liked you. as more than a friend.” but even now, standing here with the truth hanging between you, he knows he’s still holding back. liked—he said it like it was past tense, like it was something he’d moved on from. but that’s a lie. he still does. you don’t know what to say. don’t even know what to feel. “seunghyun…” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “i had a girlfriend. you had a boyfriend… well, you still do.” his voice drops at that last part. he clears his throat, looking away again. “i loved her. and it was wrong. so i told myself that those feelings for you would go away if i put enough space between us.” your fingers tighten around the railing. your voice is barely above a whisper when you ask, “did it work?” “no.”

silence settles between you. you want to admit it, too. that you felt the same thing. but where would that even get you? you’re still in a relationship. and you love your boyfriend (at least that’s what you tell yourself…) you know better. you can’t complicate things again now. so instead, you force yourself to ask, “why are you telling me this, hyun?” he frowns. “i don’t know, i just—i thought you should know.” he pauses. “i’m sorry for disappearing like that.” “it’s okay—” “no, it’s not.” he sighs. “i shouldn’t have… i shouldn’t have cut you off. i hurt you and you didn’t deserve that.” the guilt has been sitting in his chest for so long, pressing down on him every time he thought about you—which was always. you know you should be angrier, that you should make him sit with the weight of what he did a little longer. but the truth is, you missed him. you missed him so much it ached. “yeah,” you say quietly, “you did hurt me. but i get it, hyun.” he frowns slightly. “you were confused. and scared.” and you know that, because that’s exactly how you felt too. “but that doesn’t justify—” “seunghyun.” you cut off, shaking your head. “no it doesn’t justify it, but you apologized. i forgive you. it’s okay. don’t be—don’t be hard on yourself.” oh man. he wonders what he did in another life to deserve you being so good to him in this one. “i’m sorry too,” you continue with a smile tugging at your lips. “for snapping at you all the time in class.” he lets out a small laugh. “it’s okay,” he replies, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “i thought it was kinda cute.” “cute?” you snort. “yeah. but don’t worry,” he says, forcing a smirk, like he’s trying to play it off. “it’s in the past. we’re good friends.” and for some reason, that stings.

summer ends before you even realize it. the warmth starts to fade, the days growing shorter, the air losing its heaviness. you’re back on campus, slipping into the routine of lectures and assignments. but everything shifts—just a few days into the new academic year, it all comes crashing down. the fight with your boyfriend starts like any other argument. but then, somewhere in the middle of it, he snaps. says something he can’t take back. something that makes your stomach drop. he’s slept with multiple girls behind your back. you don’t remember what you said after that. don’t remember how the argument ended. all you know is that it’s over. and now, somehow, the tables have turned. it’s seunghyun showing up at your door this time, no hesitation in his eyes when he pulls you into a hug the second he sees your face. it’s him dragging you out of your house when you don’t want to move, sitting with you in coffee shops and parks and anywhere that isn’t your room, distracting you with dumb jokes and conversations about nothing. it’s him texting you at random hours, u good? or let’s go get food or just a simple i’m outside when you need it the most. he doesn’t push you to talk. doesn’t force you to open up. he just stays—sits beside you when you don’t feel like speaking, lets you cry when you need to. and slowly, piece by piece, he starts pulling you back together.

by the time october rolls around, you’re a new person. the heartbreak doesn’t sting anymore, the anger has dulled, and you’re genuinely happy after what feels like a lifetime. seunghyun has a lot to do with that. and maybe that’s why, when the invitation for a halloween party from some classmates rolls in, it doesn’t feel so strange that you and seunghyun are each other’s default plus-one. the house is packed, every room overflowing with people. music booms from the speakers, the bass so heavy it vibrates through the floor, making the half-empty bottles on the kitchen counter tremble. laughter and shouting fill the space, blending with the music, with the sound of ice clinking in cups, with the occasional crash of something breaking followed by a drunken chorus of “ooohhh!” you and seunghyun arrive together, dressed in matching costumes—him as an astronaut, you as the moon. your dress is a soft, silvery white, made of a flowing fabric that shimmers with every step, catching the dim party lights. the bodice is scattered with tiny embroidered stars, and the skirt has a subtle iridescence, shifting between silver and pale blue as you move. your jewelry is just as delicate—dangling earrings shaped like crescent moons. atop your hair sits a headband, adorned with silver moons and twinkling stars. seunghyun had grinned when he saw you, adjusting the nasa patch on his astronaut suit before reaching out to spin you in place.

you don’t separate when you step inside. instead, his hand stays on the small of your back. someone shoves drinks into your hands the second you reach the kitchen—something bright and sugary, probably way too strong—but neither of you mind. a group is playing beer pong in the living room, another is huddled around a tiny table, laughing over some drinking game with cards. in the corner, someone’s passed out in a vampire cape, an empty bowl of candy resting on their lap. the night moves in a blur. you and seunghyun barely leave each other’s side, moving together through the party, dancing till his hair starts sticking to his forehead from sweat. between songs, you weave through the party together, stopping to talk to friends, laughing at half-drunken conversations, clinking cups and playing games. someone compliments your matching costumes, and seunghyun just grins, tugging playfully at the fabric of your dress. “told you we’d have the best costumes. i mean, what’s an astronaut without his moon?”

eventually, the heat and the crowd become too much, and seunghyun leans in close, voice just loud enough over the music. “let’s go outside for a bit.” you follow him through the packed room and out the back door, the chilly night air biting at your skin. the backyard is quiet compared to the chaos inside, just the faint murmur of distant conversations and the occasional burst of laughter. seunghyun pulls a cigarette from his pocket, then offers you one without a word. you take it, watching as he lights his first, the glow flickering against his face before he leans in to light yours. you take a slow drag before exhaling. “having fun?” he asks. you smirk. “define fun.” he chuckles, shaking his head. “you took more shots than me earlier. you’re definitely drunk.” “tipsy,” you correct, nudging him with your elbow. “big difference.” he hums in response, taking a drag of his own. for a moment, there’s only silence, the two of you standing side by side, watching the way the smoke curls into the cold air. “the party is actually good,” he says. “way better than i expected. i was killing it at beer pong.” “you lost.” “okay, but it was a close game.” you shake your head, laughing. “so this is a ten out of ten night for you?” “pretty much,” he grins. “good music, free booze, and…” he hesitates for a second before saying, “you. what more could i want?” you feel warmth creep up your neck, but you keep your expression neutral, taking a slow drag of your cigarette. “drunk flirty hyun… that’s new.” he scoffs, shaking his head. “that wasn’t—” he starts, but then he stops, like he realizes mid-sentence that there’s no point in denying it. instead, he exhales, flicking ash off his cigarette. “i was just being honest.” he takes another drag, exhaling slowly after, watching the way the smoke drifts into the cold air before his gaze drifts back to you. he’s so screwed. because you’re smiling, the glow of the party lights casting this ridiculous golden halo around you. your lips are glossy, your smile lifting your cheeks, making you look even cuter, and your hair—god, your hair—looks so soft he has to physically stop himself from reaching out and running his fingers through it. you’re beautiful. and he’s so stupidly in love. you turn to look at him, brows raising slightly. “what?” you ask, amusement flickering in your eyes. seunghyun blinks, realizing too late that he’s been staring. “nothing,” he says, a little too quickly, taking another drag of his cigarette like that’ll somehow make him look less obvious. you tilt your head, the corner of your lips quirking up. “you sure?” you press, watching him. seunghyun hesitates for half a second, then just smiles, soft and a little shy. “yeah. just… spaced out for a second.” “mhmm,” you hum, clearly unconvinced, but you don’t push. instead, you take another slow drag of your cigarette. after a moment, you flick the end of it away, stretching slightly. “wanna go back in?” he nods. “yeah.” “only if you take another shot with me.” seunghyun huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. “figured there was a catch.” “come on, hyun,” you grin, tugging at his sleeve. “just one more.” and he’s already moving, already following you back inside, because he’s so far gone for you it’s pathetic.

after a couple of hours, when the party starts to lose its spark and exhaustion settles in, he leans in, voice low near your ear. “you wanna head out?” you nod, stretching your arms with a yawn. “yeah, just need to grab my coat. left it in one of the rooms.” he doesn’t say anything, just follows when you turn to go. the house is still loud, music pulsing from the main room, but out here in the hallway, it’s quieter, the chatter more distant. you push open the door to a small room, stepping inside. your coat is draped over the back of a chair, right where you left it. seunghyun’s inside too, standing just a few steps away. you shake out your coat, ready to slip it on, but before you can, he steps closer. “here,” he offers, voice quieter now, more careful. “let me.”

you hesitate for half a second before nodding, handing it over. he takes it gently, holding it open as you slide your arms through the sleeves. his hands brush against your shoulders as he settles it into place, a touch so light it barely lingers, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. neither of you move right away. you can feel him behind you, his warmth, the way he still hasn’t stepped back. slowly, you turn to face him. his gaze flickers over you, taking you in like he’s memorizing every detail. then, so quietly it almost disappears into the space between you, he says, “do you wanna know what i was thinking before? when we were outside?” you hum in response, nodding slightly. “i was thinking… you’re beautiful. you’re so, so beautiful.” “you’re drunk,” you say, but it comes out quieter than you intended. he exhales a short laugh, shaking his head. “i know what i’m saying.” you hold his gaze, fingers curling inside your sleeves. “you sure?” you laugh softly. his voice is quieter when he speaks again. “yeah. it’s not a bad thing. thinking you’re beautiful… calling you beautiful.” his gaze flickers, dropping briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes. “you shouldn’t look at me like that,” you say. he steps just the slightest bit closer, gaze never leaving yours. “like what?” “like that,” you mutter, looking away. he’s quiet for a moment, then—“maybe you should stop looking at me like that, too.” your eyes snap back to his, heart pounding in your chest. “i’m not,” you argue, but it’s unconvincing. he smiles. “yes, you are.” you blink, heat spreading through your cheeks. “hyun…” you start, but the words catch in your throat. his smile lingers. “what?” “don’t do that.” “do what?” “act like you know what’s going on in my head.” his expression softens just slightly, but there’s something careful in the way he tilts his head, watching you. “don’t i?” of course he does. it’s infuriating, really, the way he can pick apart your thoughts without you saying a word. his eyes search yours, and then, he studies you for a long moment, like he’s trying to decide if he should even say what he’s about to say at all. but the words escape his lips before he can stop them. “i still have feelings for you.” “hyun—” “they never went away,” he cuts in. “you never noticed?” “i don’t—i don’t know.” “i thought you did,” he murmurs. “sometimes, it felt like you did. but maybe i was just seeing what i wanted to see.” he pauses. “sorry, i don’t want to make things weird, i know the breakup is recent for you, i just—i needed to say it,” his voice is quieter now, like he’s already made peace with whatever answer he thinks is coming. you glance up at him and he looks like he’s already preparing himself for the worst. and that’s what does it. that’s what makes the words slip past your lips before you can overthink them. “i… i do too.” “what?” “i have feelings for you too,” you say. “for a while now.” his expression softens, something flickering in his gaze—relief. “really?” “mhm.” you nod with a shy smile.

he exhales, like he’s been holding in the breath this whole time. and then, before you can process it, he takes a step closer, hand reaching up to brush against your cheek, gentle. your breath stutters as his face inches closer, his eyes flickering to your lips, giving you time to pull away if you want to. but you don’t. except, just as his lips nearly graze yours, panic flares in your chest, and you instinctively turn your head. “wait—” he freezes immediately, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “oh. sorry. too fast?” “no, no.” “what’s wrong?” you press your lips together. “i just… i haven’t kissed anyone other than my ex before.” your voice is small, embarrassed. “i don’t know—i don’t know how to do this. i’m nervous.” his brows lift slightly before a small smile tugs at his lips, understanding. “you think i have?” “what?” “you’re the only person i’ve liked other than my ex. i haven’t kissed anyone either.” the confession eases some of the nerves coiled in your stomach. “it’s okay to be nervous,” he says softly. “we don’t have to rush anything.”

you chew on your bottom lip. the way he’s looking at you makes you feel a little braver. seunghyun hesitates, then asks, “do you want to try?” he’s waiting—patient, not pushing, just letting you decide. and that just makes you want it more. “yes.” your voice is quiet. “i want to try.” his lips twitch up in a small smile, and he nods once. his gaze dips to your lips for just a second before meeting your eyes again, waiting for you to make the first move. you take a shaky breath before you lean in. it’s barely a kiss, just the softest press of your lips against his. you pull back almost immediately, nerves sparking in your chest. he stays close, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at each other. “you okay?” he murmurs. you nod quickly, cheeks burning. “yeah.” a small, shy smile on your lips. his own smile widens just a little. “can we—can we try again?” you whisper. this time, when you lean in, he meets you halfway. the second kiss is different. his lips fit against yours like they were always meant to. you feel his hand slide to the curve of your jaw, his thumb brushing your skin so delicately that it makes your stomach flip. your fingers find the fabric of his costume, curling slightly as you let yourself lean into him, let yourself fall into the moment. the kiss deepens naturally, neither of you rushing, just learning each other in quiet, stolen seconds. he tilts his head slightly, and the shift makes it even better—your lips molding together, the warmth of him surrounding you. his nose brushes against yours as you part. your lashes flutter open, meeting his gaze. “was that okay?” he murmurs. you let out a breathless laugh, nodding. “more than okay.” “good.” he laughs too.

you spend more time with each other after that night, if that’s even possible. it becomes routine. you wake up expecting to see him at some point in the day. if you don’t, it feels off, like something’s missing. sometimes, you’ll spend hours together without saying much, just existing in the same space. other times you’ll talk for hours, trading secrets you’ve never told anyone, laughing until your stomachs hurt. seunghyun is so in love. oh, so in love… sometimes, when he’s lying awake at night, staring at his ceiling, he feels almost angry at himself—for waiting so long, for not realizing sooner. he thinks about the time he wasted, stuck in something that was never meant to last, convincing himself that love was supposed to be hard, that it was supposed to be painful and exhausting. but with you, it’s so fucking easy. he’s starting to believe what people say. first love is beautiful, sure. but second love? second love is real. second love is unforgettable. seunghyun is down bad. your presence alone is enough to set every nerve in his body on fire. and when you laugh—god, when you laugh—he thinks he could live off that sound alone. and maybe it’s crazy, but sometimes, he finds himself thinking—this is it, isn’t it? this is the kind of love people write about. he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that no one—not his first love, not anyone—has ever made him feel like this. he’s never felt love like this before. but he never wants to go another day without it. without you.

the way you kiss him it’s intoxicating. seunghyun has kissed before, obviously. with you, it’s different. because when you do, slow, like you’re savoring every second, it makes his head spin more than anything else ever has. because the way you pull back just to look at him, eyes flickering between his—your hands on him, like you need to be touching him—makes his chest ache in the best way. makes him feel like the most important person in the world. sometimes, it starts soft, just a lingering press of lips. other times, it’s urgent. but you don’t push for more, and neither does he. not because you don’t want to, but because that’s already enough.

that’s why he doesn’t expect that, one day, while you’re making out on his couch, you straddle him—your knees pressing into the couch on either side of him, your hands settling on his shoulders. and seunghyun? he forgets how to breathe. his brain short-circuits. like, completely shuts down. his hands hover awkwardly at your waist, fingers twitching, unsure if he should actually touch you or just die right then and there. because holy shit. you don’t seem to notice his internal crisis, too caught up in the moment, too focused on the way his lips and tongue move against yours. but he notices—notices the way your body presses flush against his, the way your weight settles onto his lap, the way your fingers thread into his hair, tugging slightly. his self-control? hanging by a thread. your breath is uneven when you pull back to meet his gaze, your lips a little swollen. “is this okay?” you ask, voice soft. he exhales, hands smoothing over your waist. “yeah,” he breathes. “is it okay for you?” “mhm,” you nod.

you kiss him again, and this time, it’s different. it’s charged. seunghyun feels it in the way your hands slide from his shoulders to the nape of his neck. he feels it in the way your lips move against his. but most of all, he feels it when you shift in his lap, pressing down. just the slightest movement. he inhales sharply, his grip on your waist tightening as his body tenses beneath you. it’s not even really a movement, more of a hesitant roll of your hips against his, but fuck, it sends heat straight to the bulge in his pants. his brain barely has time to process what’s happening before you do it again. this time, he can’t stop the quiet groan that slips past his lips, low and almost pained, his hands digging into your hips on instinct.

he lets you. lets you move against him however you want, lets himself feel you. your movements start slow, almost experimental, like you’re figuring this out as you go, like you’re getting used to the feel of him beneath you. but when you find a rhythm—when you finally press against him fully, rolling your hips down just right—oh boy. his head tips back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut, a shaky breath slipping past his lips. he’s done for. you lean in, pressing a kiss just under his jaw, and he groans, low in his throat, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass like he’s trying to keep himself together. “fuck,” he mutters, half to himself, half to you. “you’re gonna kill me.” you smile against his skin, and it’s unfair, so unfair, because you know what you’re doing to him. you know, and you keep going. the friction is perfect—every movement sending a pulse of heat through his body, enough to drive him crazy, enough to have his dick twitching in his pants.

his breathing comes out in short, uneven gasps as he grits his teeth, trying to hold on, trying to stay in control. but he can’t. because the way you sound—soft, breathy little moans escaping your lips—paired with the friction of you against him? it’s too fucking much. he’s already so close, already on the edge before he even realizes it. and when you press down just right, his stomach tightens. “shit—!” his whole body tenses as the pleasure hits him, crashing over him before he can stop it. his breath catches in his throat, a choked moan slipping past his lips, his fingers gripping your ass hard. he stills completely, chest rising and falling against yours, and it takes a second before he realizes what just happened. he ruined his pants. fuck. his face burns as the reality sets in. you blink at him, confused at first, before realization dawns in your expression. “oh.” seunghyun groans, tilting his head back, dragging his hands down his face, mortified. “don’t.” his voice is muffled against his palms. “don’t say anything.” but it’s too late. you giggle, and that just makes his ears go even redder. you lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and whisper, “cute.” “i’m sorry,” he says, embarrassed. “it’s okay, baby,” you giggle again. after a moment, he laughs too.

the physical side of your relationship isn’t something either of you are shying away from anymore. the kisses get longer. deeper. and there’s more touching now. it starts happening more often, too. you’re figuring each other out, taking your time. memorizing the way each other moves, the way each other reacts. you’re learning him, and he’s learning you.

it’s natural that you start wanting more. that’s why, one night, late in his room, you find yourself lying beneath him, bodies tangled in his sheets. hands are everywhere. his lips leave yours only to trail down your jaw, down your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. he loves this—loves the way you shiver, loves the way your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly when he nips at the sensitive spot just below your ear. “seunghyun,” you breathe, and he swears he could die happy right now. his hands slide lower, fingers on your right thigh. you shift beneath him, pressing closer, sighing when his hand finally trails higher. his fingers move along the fabric between your legs. his touch featherlight, barely-there, but still enough to make you squirm. oh lord jesus, he nearly loses it right there. “you’re so fucking pretty,” he mutters against your skin. “my pretty, pretty girl.” you’re warm and soft, reacting to every little touch, every slow drag of his fingers. he can feel your heartbeat beneath his mouth as he kisses along your throat, your chest rising and falling a little too fast. his own breathing is just as uneven as yours now. he’s so hard it’s almost embarrassing. “tell me what you want, baby,” he murmurs. “i’ll give you anything, just—” “touch me, seunghyun,” you say softly. oh, you don’t need to tell him twice! he unbuttons your pants, sliding them down slowly. his fingers hook into the waistband, knuckles brushing against your hips as he tugs the fabric down, past your thighs, past your knees, until they’re bunched at your ankles. he takes his time pulling them off completely. his fingers slip beneath the thin fabric of your underwear next, dragging them down until they’re gone.

his hand goes right back where you want it. two of his fingers slide against you, teasing. feeling exactly how wet you are for him. the way your juices coat his fingertips, makes him groan, the sound vibrating low in his throat. his thumb drags over your clit, rubbing slow circles, and the reaction is immediate—your breath catches, your thighs twitch and your hips jerk slightly, a soft moan escaping your lips. oh that sound… his cock throbs in his jeans. “tell me if it’s too much. or if you want more.” your response comes fast—a shaky, desperate whisper. “more.” you beg, voice trembling. “more, seunghyun.” “more what, baby?” he teases, his thumb still working your clit. you whimper. “y-your fingers.” he chuckles softly, one of his fingers gently parting your folds before he pushes it in, sinking into your pussy with no resistance. “like this?” you nod, biting your lip. he begins pumping his finger slowly in and out and your breath comes faster, mingling with the wet sounds of his finger fucking you. when he adds another finger, your hands grip his arms, trying to hold onto something. he watches you, completely transfixed by how beautiful you look right now—lips parted, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. “that feel good, hm?” he asks as he curls his fingers inside you, pressing against that one spot “y-yes! o-oh my—!” so he gives you more. his fingers thrust deeper and faster, curling just right, and your moans turn into whimpers. your thighs tremble and seunghyun can feel how close you are, how your body is tensing, your gummy walls squeezing his fingers. “hyun, i-i’m—i’m gonna—!” “i know, baby… give it to me.” one more thrust of his fingers, one more firm stroke of his thumb against your clit and your back arches—a sharp, desperate moan spilling from your lips—your body shuddering, clenching down around his fingers. he gives you a moment to catch your breath before he leans in. he presses a kiss to your forehead. “next time,” he murmurs against your skin, pressing another kiss, “i’m using my mouth.”

and he keeps his promise! it happens on a lazy sunday morning, right before your scheduled museum date. he shows up at your place a few minutes early, too excited to see you, too impatient to wait. maybe he had good intentions, but the second he sees you in that dress… he almost wishes to be a father. because what the fuck—you just look so good. soft and pretty, hair still slightly messy from getting ready in a rush, your perfume fresh in the air… his hands are on you before he even realizes it, pulling you in by the waist. you blink up at him, confused at first, lips parted, breath hitching slightly at the way he’s looking at you. that man is hungry. and he shows it with his kisses. “we—” you try to speak in between them. “we’re gonna be late—” “don’t care, i wanna taste you,” he mutters against your lips, hands sliding beneath the hem of your dress. “can i?”

and not even three minutes later, his head is buried between your thighs, his grip firm as he holds you in place. the first taste of you nearly ruins him—his low groan vibrating against your skin as his tongue works with a hunger that borders on desperate. your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging when he flattens his tongue against you. “s-seunghyun!” you moan loudly. music to his ears. he loves the way you whimper, the way your body shudders when he flicks your clit with his tongue, then sucking it just enough to make your thighs tremble. his grip on them is borderline bruising, but you don’t care—not when he’s got his mouth on you like this. “fuck, you taste so good,” he mutters against you, breath hot, voice thick with need. “so fuckin’ sweet.” “y-you always this needy?” you manage to tease, but your voice is shaky. he chuckles. “says the one trying to suffocate me with her thighs.” you open your mouth to fire back, but he circles your clit with his tongue, and whatever you were about to say turns into a sharp gasp. he grins against you, pleased with himself. and god, you’re already so close. he can feel it in the way your body tenses, the way your legs try to close around his head, the way your breath stutters into these soft, broken little moans. but he’s not done. he slides one hand up, fingers teasing at your entrance before slowly sliding inside. “fuck! f-fuck, hyun!” you cry from pleasure. “yes—ngh!—y-yes, baby, just like that! just like that!” your whole body jerks as his fingers move in perfect rhythm, tongue working you over even faster. “c’mon, baby,” he coaxes, pulling away just for a moment. “be good for me.” and that’s it. you choke on a moan, back arching as pleasure crashes through you. you cum on his tongue and he works you through it. licking and sucking even when your thighs shake. and when you try to pull away from the overstimulation, he doesn’t let up—not until he’s sure he’s gotten every last drop of it. finally, he pulls back, lips slick, eyes dark as he looks up at you, taking in the mess he’s made of you. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking before crawling up to press soft kisses to your jaw, your cheeks, the corner of your lips—gentle, like he’s trying to bring you back down. “you okay?” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “mhm,” you nod, still breathless. “yeah… just feel like jello.” he chuckles. “you’re so cute.” there’s something soft in the way he’s looking at you. your heart stutters, warmth blooming in your chest. “you’re such a sap,” you tease. he just grins, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “only for you.”

when valentine’s day rolls around, seunghyun makes sure you have the best one yet. he remembers—of course, he does—how you once mentioned that your ex never really cared about it, brushing off the day like it meant nothing. seunghyun, though, he isn’t like that. so when you walk through the door after a long day at university, you almost miss it at first. your brain is too tired to register the burst of color sitting on the living room table. but then, your eyes land on it, and for a second, you think you’ve walked into the wrong place. a massive bouquet of flowers sits right in the center, petals soft and vibrant like they belong in a fairytale. two—no, three—boxes of chocolate are stacked neatly beside it, ribbons tied in perfect bows. you blink, then blink again. “what the…” you murmur, stepping closer, fingertips grazing the velvety petals. there’s a small note tucked between the stems, and when you pull it out, your lips part into a slow, disbelieving smile. ‘because you deserve to be spoiled. i’ll pick you up for dinner (make sure to wear that beautiful smile of yours). happy valentine’s day, baby. — your hyun.’ you don’t even realize you’re smiling so hard until your cheeks start to hurt. warmth spreads through your chest, making you feel a little ridiculous, a little too giddy, but you don’t care. grabbing your phone, you call him immediately. “hi, baby—” “you’re insane,” you cut in, still staring at the bouquet. “this is—seunghyun, what the fuck?” his soft chuckle comes through the speaker, warm and just a little shy. “so, you liked it?” “liked it?” you echo, shaking your head. “i love it. i—how did you even—when did you—ugh. you didn’t have to, baby.” “i wanted to. your parents helped me set it up.” his voice is so sure, so simple, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. and maybe it is—to him, at least. “thank you.” your fingers play with the edge of the little note, eyes flicking over the words again. “did you read the note?” he asks. “yeah,” you nod, even though he can’t see you. “i read it. where are you taking me?” “surprise.” “hyun—” “you’ll see later.” “i need to know so that i can—” “huh? wait—hold on, i think you’re cutting out.” his voice suddenly sounds distant, like he’s holding the phone away from his mouth. “hello? can you hear me?” you narrow your eyes. “don’t even start.” “ah, damn. i think my signal’s bad.” he makes a few static noises with his mouth, so ridiculously fake you almost drop your phone from laughing. “you’re a dork, you know that?” more static—or at least his sad attempt at it. “what? i—i can’t—losing connection—” “seunghyun, you’re literally at home.” he clears his throat. “gotta go, baby, see you at seven!” the call ends before you can say another word. you stare at your screen, completely unimpressed, but also grinning like an idiot. he’s gonna be the end of you.

he takes you to one of the fanciest restaurants you’ve ever been in, which makes you wonder how the hell he managed to afford all this. but knowing him, he’s probably been saving up for weeks, quietly planning everything down to the last detail. dinner feels like time slowing down in the best way. seunghyun watches you more than he eats, eyes crinkling whenever you ramble about something or get too caught up in telling a story. and when the check comes, you barely get the chance to reach for your purse before seunghyun is already handing over his card, like every time you go out. stepping outside, the cool air wraps around you, crisp and refreshing after the warmth of the restaurant. seunghyun is close beside you, his hand brushing against yours before he finally just takes it, fingers slotting together. you squeeze his hand lightly, glancing up at him, but he’s already looking at you, eyes soft under the glow of the city lights.

as you settle into the car, seunghyun doesn’t start the engine right away. instead, he reaches into the pocket of his coat. you stare at him, curious, but before you can ask, he pulls out a small, velvet box and holds it out to you. “i got you something,” he smiles, voice a little quieter than usual. “what—? hyun—” “shh, let me spoil you,” he chuckles. your fingers hesitate for a second before you take it, the soft material cool against your palm. your chest tightens slightly as you flip it open, revealing a delicate necklace inside. the pendant is small, understated, but beautiful—exactly the kind of thing you’d pick for yourself. you exhale, running your thumb over the tiny charm. “oh my—i love it!” “i saw it and thought of you.” “it’s perfect, baby. thank you.” his lips twitch into a small smile. “let me put it on you.” you turn slightly, gathering your hair to one side as he takes the necklace from the box. he fastens it behind your neck, his fingers brushing lightly along the back of your shoulder. he lingers, adjusting the clasp, making sure it sits just right before letting his hands drop. you glance down, fingertips brushing over the pendant as a soft smile tugs at your lips. seunghyun leans back slightly, eyes flickering over you before settling on your face. “my pretty, pretty, pretty girl.” you shake your head with a small laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. “okay, your turn.” his brows furrow slightly. “my turn?” you reach into your bag, pulling out a small, neatly wrapped package before placing it in his hands. “yeah. you didn’t think you were the only one with surprises tonight, did you?” “you got me something?” he’s not used to being on the receiving end of surprises. “of course, i did,” you say, handing it to him. “now, open it.”

as soon as the paper wrapper falls away, his expression shifts. a hardcover book with a deep, star-speckled cover. his fingers graze over the title—the art of the cosmos—a collection of celestial-inspired artwork, paintings, sculptures, and photography, all centered around space. he flips through the pages slowly, carefully, eyes taking in the images of galaxies captured in oil paint, nebulas carved into stone, planets sculpted from glass. “i know how much you love space,” you say, watching his reaction closely. “and art, of course. so… i wanted you to have something that combined the two things you love the most, something that feels like you. it’s not—it’s not as fancy as… everything that you’ve prepared but—” before you can finish, seunghyun leans in, pressing his lips to yours. when he finally pulls away, he stays close, forehead barely an inch from yours. “don’t ever say that again.” “say what?” “that it’s not—” he exhales, shaking his head. “you could’ve given me a damn rock, and i’d still love it because it’s from you.” your heart stumbles a little, and you let out a soft laugh. “this is perfect, baby,” he says, flipping through the pages again. “you’re really the best.” you smile, watching the way his eyes soften as he takes in every detail. “i’m just glad you like it.” he sets the book down carefully on the dashboard before turning fully toward you.

he smiles, but there’s something behind it—something hesitant, like he’s trying to work up the courage to say something else. his knee bounces slightly, and his fingers tap against his thigh, a sign that there’s more on his mind. you tilt your head. “what?” he exhales sharply, shaking his head before letting out a soft laugh. “nothing, just…” he looks down at your hand resting between you, then, as if on instinct, reaches for it. he rubs his thumb over your knuckles, staring at your joined hands for a second before finally speaking. “let me be your boyfriend,” he says. “i know we haven’t really put a name on what this is, but i want to. i want you. i don’t want there to be any doubt about where we stand.” you must’ve started smiling like an absolute idiot because the second he sees it, he starts smiling too. “seunghyun, you’ve been my boyfriend in my head for months now,” you laugh, shaking you head. “so… that’s a yes?” “of course it’s a yes!” without giving him time to react, you press a quick, fleeting kiss to his lips. but before you can even pull away, seunghyun tugs you back in, kissing you with a much deeper intensity. your lips part instinctively, letting him in, his tongue gliding against yours. your fingers find his face, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, thumb brushing gently over his cheek as you do everything in your power to keep from moaning into his mouth. he’s such a good kisser… his lips hot and soft against yours, tilting his head so that you fit just right… his lips leave yours only to trail along the corner of your mouth, before sliding down to your jaw. he takes his time, lingering there, and then he makes his way down. his face buries into the crook of your neck for a moment, and you can feel his smile against your skin. you run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck before pulling back just enough to look at him. “i love you,” he says. your lips part slightly, something swelling in your chest so big it almost hurts, and then you’re smiling. “i love you too, hyun.”

you can’t lie—loving seunghyun is kind of terrifying. not in a bad way, not in the he’s going to hurt me kind of way, but in the this is real and i don’t want to mess it up way. you’ve both been through it. cheated on, strung along, left to piece together whatever crumbs of affection your exes were willing to throw your way. it’s hard to unlearn that, hard to trust that someone wants you without expecting you to beg for it. and even though this is different—he’s different—it’s hard to shake the nerves, the fear that if you let yourself have this, really have it, something will go wrong. maybe that’s why, even now, after a long, perfect night, when you’re curled up with him on the couch, a movie playing but barely holding your attention, you still feel jittery. and when things start heating up (like they usually do) you feel embarrassingly new to it all. like you’re back at square one. like you’re a virgin all over again. “you’re shaking,” says seunghyun quietly, breath shuddering when his condom-wrapped tip presses slightly against your entrance. “we don’t have to do this—“ “i want to,” you reassure him. “i really do. i’m just… nervous.” intimacy can be scary, especially when it’s with someone new. “i know, baby. me too,” he admits. “i’ll go slow. just hold onto me.” so you do. your hands find his arms, gripping them lightly as he hovers over you, his eyes locked onto yours. “kiss me,” you whisper. he smiles before he leans in, pressing his lips to yours. then, as he moves, as he pushes into you, a sharp gasp escapes your lips, breaking the kiss. your fingers tighten around his arms, nails pressing lightly into his skin as you adjust to the stretch, the way he fills you so completely. he’s holding himself back, he’s trying to let you set the pace. his lips brush against your jaw pressing soft kisses on your skin before he kisses the side of your neck. “hyun… you—” your words falter as he presses in deeper, your back arching instinctively. “shit! you feel so good.” “tell me what you need, baby,” he says. your body already knows the answer before your lips do. you move your hips slightly, urging him deeper, making him exhale. “deeper,” you reply. “and faster. please.”

the room turns into a mess—moans, heavy breathing, the sharp slap of skin against skin. seunghyun’s fucking into you like he’ll never get another chance, and all you can do is take it, legs wrapped tight around his waist, nails dragging down his back as he fills you over and over again. he leans in, mouth hot against your neck. “you like that, baby?” his teeth graze your skin before he presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss just beneath your jaw. “y-yes!” he’s deep, so deep, hitting that perfect spot that makes your eyes roll back, your mouth falling open, too lost in the way he’s ruining you to say anything coherent. “can f-feel you squeezing me—a-ah! fuck, baby!” he moans. and the desperate sound you make back only seem to push him further, make him rougher. your body responds instinctively, meeting his thrusts, rolling your hips slightly against him. oh, fuck. oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. he’s barely holding it together as it is hearing you moan under him like that, but that thing you just did? it almost sends seunghyun to an early grave. his hips snap into you harder, completely abandoning whatever self-control he thought he had, grip tightening on your hips so hard he’s pretty sure he’s leaving marks. “shit!—h-hyun! ah, fuck! f-fuck, y-yeah! baby, mmph!” you sound so fucking good, all needy and breathless, and he wants to loop it in his brain forever, build a shrine to the way you just moaned his name like that. he knew sex with you would be good, but this? this is some life-altering, religious experience type shit.

the pleasure is intense, rolling through you in waves so strong it’s almost embarrassing how quickly you start feeling your orgasm build up in your lower stomach. seunghyun’s entire body is tight. muscles straining, his thrusts turning more desperate, more frantic, because he can feel how close you are, the way your thighs are shaking, the way your moans are turning higher, almost pleading. and fuck, he’s so close… but he needs to take you with him. his grip shifts, one hand sliding between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. the second he rubs tight, messy circles over it, your whole body jerks beneath him, a gasp breaking from your lips. “that’s it, baby,” he breathes, “cum… cum with me.” your walls flutter around him, clenching so tight it nearly sends him into another dimension. and when you finally snap, it hits hard—your back arches, your thighs shake, and your moans are loud enough to make your neighbors hate you. thank god your parents aren’t home. seunghyun groans, slamming into you a few more times before he loses it, burying himself deep as he follows right after, cursing under his breath. for a second, all you can hear is the sound of your ragged breathing and the rapid thud of your heartbeat. his forehead drops against your shoulder, both of you still panting, his hands lazily running over your skin. his body feels wrecked in the best way, his mind still floating somewhere between reality and the aftershocks of the best orgasm he’s ever had. his lips press against your temple as your breathing slows. “come on, baby,” he murmurs. “let’s shower.” you groan in protest, making him chuckle. so fucking cute. he kisses your lips. “you wanna sleep like this?” he teases. you sigh dramatically, blinking up at him with that hazy, fucked-out look that makes his stomach clench. “fine, let’s go shower,” you laugh softly.

the bed is soft, the sheets cool against your skin as you sink into them, your body still warm from the shower. you barely have time to settle before seunghyun climbs in beside you, immediately pulling you against him. his arms wrap around your waist, tugging you close until your back is flush against his chest. his body is warm, solid, and when he exhales, you feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing against your spine. one of his hands slips beneath the hem of your shirt—his shirt, really—his fingertips tracing patterns along your stomach. his lips press against the back of your neck, soft, before he nuzzles into you, his nose brushing against your hair. you smile, closing your eyes. nothing else has ever felt this right. your fingers move against his hand, barely tracing over his skin, and he hums in response, shifting slightly to bury his face further into your hair. “comfy?” he murmurs, voice lower now, sleepier. “mmhm.” you squeeze his hand, barely awake. “you?” he presses another kiss to the back of your neck. “always. i love you.” “i love you too,” you whisper. “sleep, baby.” and right before you drift off, you feel it—his lips pressing one last kiss to the back of your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

two years have passed. but it doesn’t feel like two years. it feels like forever. like there was never a version of your life before him, only with him. when you sleep together, mornings always start the same: seunghyun wakes up first, but he never gets out of bed before you. instead, he buries his face into your neck, pressing lazy kisses against your skin until you finally stir. you’ve built a life together in these little rituals—the way he always holds your hand when you walk anywhere, the way you sit between his legs on the couch when you watch movies, your back pressed against his chest, his arms locked around your waist. the way he’ll randomly pull you onto his lap while he’s studying at his desk, murmuring “i concentrate better like this.” knowing damn well he doesn’t. and talking about studies… you two can barely focus, study sessions always turn into giggling messes where he pretends to be paying attention to his notes but spends half the time sneaking glances at you instead. cramming for exams together is another challenge, he makes flashcards and tries to quiz you, only for you to distract him by climbing onto his lap, trailing kisses down his neck until he groans and tosses the cards aside. you’re both exhausted half the time, pulling all-nighters with caffeine and takeout, but he’s there, and that makes it bearable.

you travel together, not often but enough—weekend getaways, road trips that always start with him in control of the music and end with you fighting over who gets to dj. there was the time you went to a cabin in the mountains, curled up by the fireplace with wine, the two of you getting way too competitive over board games. or that one chaotic trip where you completely missed your bus, got lost trying to find your hotel, and ended up walking for miles in the rain. you were so close to breaking down, but seunghyun just pulled you into a convenience store, bought you a hot drink, and said, “we’ll figure it out, baby. we’re together, that’s what matters.” and somehow, it turned into one of your favorite memories.

his mom adores you. always sends you food, always texts you on random days asking how you’re doing. one time, she pulled out his baby pictures, and now you will never let him live them down. his dad always cracks jokes about how he’s never seen seunghyun this soft before. your family adores him too, inevitably hyping him up for any polite gesture, since they’re not used to you having someone so nice by your side (your last boyfriend was a questionable human being…) they always gush about how sweet seunghyun is, how he takes such good care of you.

two years of love slipping into every part of your life—small, everyday things turning into your things. you have a shared playlist called ‘let me spill your coffee’. it’s a mix of songs you love, songs that remind him of you, and stupid meme songs he adds just to annoy you. the bookshelf in the corner of your room is overflowing, pictures of the two of you and a few stuffed animals he’s gifted you shoved in between. a small framed picture sits on the very top shelf, one from a winter night when the world outside was covered in snow. you’re bundled up in his scarf while he stands behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. there are tiny snowflakes caught in his hair, and even through the blur of the picture, you can tell he’s smiling. there’s a strip of photo booth pictures tucked behind a stuffed bear he won for you at a carnival. in the first frame, you’re both grinning wide; in the second, he’s caught off guard as you surprise him with a kiss on the cheek. by the third, he’s laughing, and in the last one, he’s holding your face between his hands, pressing his forehead to yours. another picture taken on your second new year’s eve together. you’re curled up next to him on the couch, confetti still in your hair. he’s looking at you instead of the camera, a small, stupidly in-love smile on his face. you hadn’t noticed it at first, but when you did, it made your chest ache in the best way. and then, tucked behind a row of books, there’s the oldest one of all. the very first picture you ever took together, when you were only friends. it’s a little blurry, the lighting terrible, but you remember everything about that day. how he made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt. how you didn’t know then what you know now—that this would be the first of many.

above your bed, there’s a painting. one he made for you on your first anniversary. deep blues and purples, swirling together like a galaxy, with tiny flecks of gold scattered like stars. in the bottom corner, barely noticeable unless you look closely, he wrote ‘us’. you didn’t see it at first, but when you did, you nearly cried. the record player he bought you for your birthday sits by the window, a vinyl still on it from the last time he was over. and your toothbrush sits next to his in the cup by the sink. there’s also an extra charger on your nightstand—his, since he spends so much time at your house. there’s a worn-out polaroid tucked into the frame of your mirror, slightly bent at the edges from how many times you’ve taken it out to look at it. it’s your favorite picture of the two of you—summer night at the beach, your hair messy from the wind, his arm slung over your shoulders, both of you grinning like you have the entire world in your hands. because it felt like you did. and it still feels like you do. because somehow, even after all this time, nothing has faded. two years of love wrapped around your life, yet every touch, every glance, still feels like the first. and every single day, in a million different ways, you keep choosing each other.

i hope you enjoyed! thank you for reading <3

tag list: @kaerasti49