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shy2-29 · 1 month ago

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Faking It ♡ l.hs [m]

⋆ pairing: lee heeseung x reader

⋆ wc: 12.5k

⋆ synopsis: You had never liked Heeseung, and he had never liked you either. Over the three years, both you and Heeseung had become the most popular student in the university. You barely spoke to each other, just exchanged the occasional spiteful look in the hallways. You had sworn never to speak to Heeseung again—until one day, he unexpectedly asked you to be his fake girlfriend.

⋆ warning: not proof read, vomiting, public humiliation, fingering, p in v, pet names, unprotected sex, nipple play, bullying, teasing, name calling, fake dating, kissing, harsh language, swearing, spitting, choking, crying, lmk if I missed anything!

18+ mdni | masterlist

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You had never liked Heeseung, and he had never liked you either. It all began when you were both freshmen in university and were invited to a spring break party at a frat house. After consuming almost 6 shots of alcohol, you felt dizzy and rushed to the bathroom to vomit. Unintentionally, you left the door slightly open, and Heeseung, recording the entire incident, uploaded it to his social media account, which nearly all of your school followed.

"excuse me, what?!” you exclaimed in disbelief. As a new school year started, it marked your third year in university. You were on your way to your lockers to grab your belongings when Heeseung suddenly appeared, nonchalantly leaning against the lockers, resembling the stereotypical high school crush.

He simply folded his arms against his chest and repeated the question bluntly, “Be my fake girlfriend for the entire semester.” No ‘please’ or anything, just a short and direct order. Even you had to admit he was extremely hot—black hair, sharp and distinct features, muscular figure—but you definitely hated that attractive face of his due to the incident.

You crossed your arms and gave Heeseung a once-over, adopting a contemplative expression. "Why do you need a fake girlfriend?" you repeated, your tone laced with skepticism.

“Simple.” He simply shrugged as he pushed himself off from the locker and took a couple of steps towards you, closing the distance between you two. He leaned down slightly so his eyes were leveled with yours, “I’m sick and tired of my parents asking if I have a girlfriend. It’s exhausting lying to them all the time so I need someone to pretend to be my girlfriend for a few months, and they just happen to fall for you.” He spoke with as if you were nothing more than a mere tool.

"Why not tell them you're too busy with your studies?" you quipped, followed by a sarcastic chuckle. "Oh wait, I nearly forgot—you've been suspended twice! Who would believe you're too swamped with academics?”

He rolled his eyes at your comment and continued talking, his voice laced with annoyance, “My parents don’t care about my education. They only care about my reputation and what others think of me because they’re so damn arrogant and stuck-up. In their eyes, a good reputation requires a girlfriend, and that’s all they care about when it comes to me.” He was starting to sound frustrated, but not because of you, just his parents.

You scoffed at his response, rolling your eyes in disbelief. "Do you honestly think I'm going to agree to be your fake girlfriend after that humiliating video you recorded and posted of me?"

“Ah, yes. That.” He let out a short, cynical chuckle as he ran a hand through his ebony hair. “I completely forgot about that.” Bullshit, you thought. “Listen, all I’m asking for is that you be my fake girlfriend. It’s not like I’m asking you to really date me. It’ll literally just be a few months.”

You gestured towards a group of girls nearby, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. "Why not ask one of those girls over there? I'm certain a bunch of them would be absolutely thrilled to have you merely glance in their direction."

He glanced over to the group of girls that you were gesturing to, and in all honesty, you were probably right. They always swooned over him whenever he passed them. Any of them would be dying to be Heeseung’s girlfriend, fake or not. But he looked back at you, a hint of annoyance in his eyes, “There’s a reason I asked you and not them.”

“I have a type and none of them matches it.” Heeseung stepped even closer to you so your bodies were almost touching. He tilted his head as scanned you up and down while speaking, “You’re pretty, smart enough. And no offense, you’re not the most popular girl here, but you’re certainly not unpopular.”

"So, you're saying you have a crush on me?" you teased, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips.

He rolled his eyes once again, “No, don’t flatter yourself, y/n. As I said, you’re just my type.” His hot, breath was now fanning over your neck and he was close enough that you could smell the scent of his cologne, a mix of musk and sandalwood, surrounding the air.

“No”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no”

Now, it was his turn to roll his eyes. He scoffed in disbelief, “You’re rejecting me? You honestly think you’re in the position to reject me?”

You feigned fear, mockingly exclaiming, "Stop, im shaking!" Then, you added with a scoff, "Oh, wait, let me guess—no one has ever turned you down, right?"

You were spot on. No one has ever rejected Heeseung before, nor do people ever dare to. Girls are always chasing after him, and boys are either jealous of him or intimidated by him. He’s never heard the word ‘no’ before, but hearing it now from your mouth was quite intriguing and somewhat entertaining.

“Not a single one.” He responded with a small smirk, his eyes flickering to your lips. He was now extremely close to you, the distance between you was only a couple inches away now. “No one’s ever rejected me before, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything, huh?” he teased.

"Just leave me alone, Heeseung," you mutter, slamming your locker shut and stalking away, your irritation evident.

He easily caught up to you and placed his hand on your shoulder, spinning you around to face him. “What? The great y/n is already giving up?” He leaned in closer. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight.” His grip on your shoulder tightened, but not enough to hurt you.

“I won’t ask again,” He began whispering in your ear, “Be my fake girlfriend for a semester, and I’ll never bother you again for the rest of our lives.” He was now pressed against you slightly, pinning you against the lockers and trapping you.

"What's in it for me?" you countered, locking eyes with him. "And don't say 'I'll never bother you for the rest of our lives.' That doesn't interest me."

A hint of amusement flashed in his eyes at your reply and he chuckled, “Always the smartass, aren’t you?” He leaned down, his breath fanning over your face, and he tilted your chin up so you were looking at him directly. “Name your terms then.”

You pretended to ponder, tapping your finger against your chin, and then declared, "A shiny new MacBook Pro would be pretty nice."

He raised his eyebrows in slight surprise, he didn’t expect you to ask for an item so quickly. He had thought you'd ask for money. “A MacBook?” he questioned before a small smirk spread across his face, “That’s all you want?”

"Oh, and a brand-new car would be great. A Tesla, maybe?"

A look of utter disbelief briefly crossed his face, “Are you just naming out expensive things in hopes that I’ll give in?”

"I mean, you're loaded, aren't you, Lee Heeseung?" you pointed out.

He had to admit you weren’t wrong. The Lee family was extremely wealthy—a huge estate worth millions with a large family business that brought in thousands a day, all passed down from generation to generation. “True. But don’t you think you’re aiming a bit too high here?”

You folded your arms across your chest and chimed in a sing-song tone, "Well, looks like you won't be getting a fake girlfriend after all~"

He let out a sigh, feeling slightly aggravated. Part of him had to admit, he liked your stubbornness. It didn’t come as a surprise though, you had always been the one person who wasn’t afraid of him. He had to take you seriously now though. “Okay. I’ll buy you a new MacBook pro and a Tesla. In return, you have to be my fake girlfriend for the whole semester. Deal?”

Your eyes widened, taken aback by his unexpected acceptance. "W-Wait, are you serious?"

“Does a deal mean I’m not serious?” he said, a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice. “Yes, I’m serious.” his intense gaze met yours once again, “It’s a yes or no you dumb fuck.”

"Deal!" you responded enthusiastically, extending an open hand towards him for a handshake.

He chuckled, finding your eagerness amusing. He took your outstretched hand and gave it a firm shake, sealing the deal with a smirk on his face. "Then it's official, you're now my fake girlfriend."

—

The following day, while at school, you received a text from Heeseung, asking to meet at the library after classes to discuss the details of this agreement. You readily agreed, tucking your phone away and making your way to class. Sure, enduring time with Heeseung, let alone pretending to love him would annoy the living fuck out of you, but hey, you were at least getting something out of the arrangement.

He was already in the library by the time you arrived, sitting in a secluded corner away from the rest of students. He glanced up as soon as you approached the table he was sitting at. "Sit." he commanded, gesturing to the chair across from him.

He leaned back in his chair, one arm resting on the back of the chair and the other on his knee. He studied you closely, taking in your every trait. “I have a few rules for this fake dating thing.” he finally spoke, his tone authoritative.

You let out an exaggerated eye roll and placed your arms on the table, leaning forward. "Do tell?”

“First rule: we have to do everything any real couple does in public. Holding hands, going on dates in public, the whole thing.” he spoke, his voice firm, “You’re my fake girlfriend now, so you can’t just sit there with that shitty look on your face when I’m around you. No one can suspect a thing. Understood?”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow and questioned pointedly, "I thought this fake girlfriend deal is just about appeasing your parents. Why do we have to act like we’re together outside of your house too? Won’t they think it’s odd we’re suddenly together? I’m pretty sure the whole school knows we hate each other by now.”

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing.” Heeseung replied, shooting you an irritated look. “Parents who’re too stuck-up and obsessed with their reputation like mine love seeing couples acting affectionate. Plus, we need the whole school to start seeing us as a real couple, not just my parents. It’ll be more believable that way.”

You tilted your head in bewilderment and inquired, "And what are you going to say when people approach us, curious about our 'relationship'?"

“We’ll just tell them the truth. That we started talking to each other at some point and found out that we weren’t as different from each other as we'd thought.” he spoke with a nonchalant tone. “But of course, I’ll have to make up a story of how I confessed and how we got together, but other than that, it’s pretty much believable.”

You hesitantly continued, your gaze shifting to his fiddling hands and the pen. "And... what about things like kissing, pet names, and all those things... how are we going to handle those?" You spoke in a sheepish tone, a hint of excitement and nervousness evident in your voice.

He smirked slightly at your flustered expression and leaned back in his chair again, one arm placed back on the back of his chair. “I don’t care what kind of pet names you call me, but I don’t want you to call me my actual name. And for kissing…” he spoke quietly, “if I have to kiss you to make all this believable, so be it.”

You let out a sigh, mentally preparing to navigate the next three months with a fake boyfriend. This was going to be... interesting, to say the least.

“There’s one more rule.” he spoke, his gaze now flickering to yours again. “During the three months of this deal, you belong to me. Meaning: no dating, no relationships, no going on dates with someone else. You’re mine now, you got that?”

His words struck a chord within you, causing your heart to skip a beat. Yet, you quickly reminded yourself, *No, y/n, snap out of it. You despise him, and he feels the same about you*. You reluctantly agreed, albeit with a protesting groan, and sunk into the couch.

He suppressed a smug smirk upon seeing your reaction to his words. Despite your protests and eye-rolls, he could see the way you tensed up when he spoke those words. He wasn’t an idiot, he could tell, the effect he had on you, whether you were willing to admit it or not.

—

You had just walked into the school building and instantly, you heard the whispers and murmurs among the students as you made your way to your locker. It was like time had slowed down and every eye in the hallway was on you.

“Is that y/n?” one boy whispered to his friend.

“Damn, she looks pretty today.”

“But why does it look like she’s in a bad mood?” another boy spoke quietly.

Meanwhile, Heeseung was leaning against the lockers at the end of the hall, flanked by his two best friends, Jake and Sunghoon. They were having a conversation when Sunghoon’s eyes suddenly fixated on you, as you walked towards your locker. He nudged Heeseung's arm with his elbow, pointing at you.

“Hey, look,” Sunghoon whispered. “Isn’t that y/n?”

Heeseung’s eyes flickered over to the direction Sunghoon was looking at and he nodded. “Yeah, it’s her. She looks pretty today, huh?” a small smirk spread across his face as he watched from afar.

“What are you guys looking at?” Jake spoke up, craning his neck to see what had grabbed Heeseung and Sunghoon’s attention.

Sunghoon tilted his head towards you. “Just our little y/n over there, trying to play it cool but she looks pretty annoyed.”

Jake let out a small chuckle. “She always looks annoyed these days.”

“I mean, can you blame her?” Sunghoon asked, “She always looks like she wants to murder someone.”

Jake chuckled and nodded. “Agreed. She’s just naturally bitchy, I guess.”

Heeseung, however, was still quietly watching you. His eyes never left your figure as you continued on to your locker and began to open it.

“She's hot though.” Jake commented. “I'd ask her out if it didn't seem like she'd tear my head off.”

Sunghoon laughed. “She's out of your league anyways, man.” he teased.

Jake rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want,” he replied, jokingly punching Sunghoon’s arm. “I know she’s out of *both* our leagues.”

“Is there even any guy that she likes?” Sunghoon wondered aloud. “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen her hanging out with a guy.”

Heeseung's gaze flicked over to Sunghoon at the question, a small knowing smirk playing at his lips.

Jake looked over at Heeseung. “What about you?”

Heeseung’s smirk grew slightly at the question and he shrugged nonchalantly. “What about me?” he replied, his tone nonchalant.

Jake’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you like her.” he said in disbelief.

“I never said I did,” replied Heeseung, still maintaining his casual demeanor.

Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You didn’t deny it either though…” he pointed out, giving Heeseung a look.

“You know me better than that, don’t you?” Heeseung said, shooting Sunghoon a mocking look and rolling his eyes. “Yeah, sure, she’s got a nice body and she’s pretty, but she’s got the personality of a cactus. I’m not *that* masochistic.”

Sunghoon and Jake both chuckled at his response.

“Damn, man, that was a good one.” Sunghoon commented, lightly slapping Heeseung’s shoulder. “You’re right though, she’s probably not worth the headache.”

Heeseung pushed himself off of the locker he was leaning against and took a step forward, still keeping his eyes on you. “You know, there’s actually something I wanted to tell you two.” he spoke casually.

Sunghoon and Jake exchanged a curious glance before looking back at Heeseung. “What is it?” Sunghoon inquired.

Heeseung shifted his stance, his hands now in the pockets of his pants. “Well, I’ve been seeing y/n.” he replied, a small smirk dancing on his lips.

Jake’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, what?” he exclaimed, clearly not expecting that answer.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, let out a scoff of disbelief. “You’re joking, right? There’s no way you and her are a thing. She hates your guts!”

Heeseung chuckled at Sunghoon's reaction. “I’m dead serious, though.”

Jake still looked like he was processing the information. “But..how is that even possible? You guys have hated each other for three years now!”

“Things change, I guess…” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “We actually started talking a few weeks back and… well, started spending more time together. She’s not as bitchy as I thought she’d be.” he added, a smirk on his face.

Out of the blue, the question left Jake's lips, curiosity getting the better of him. "Have you guys... you know, fucked?"

Sunghoon burst out laughing and playfully slapped Jake on the back of the head. “Don’t ask him that, man!”

Heeseung rolled his eyes at Jake’s question, but a small smirk tugged at his lips nonetheless. “What, you want details?” he teased.

Jake’s expression turned sheepish. “No, no, I was just wondering.” he quickly retorted, his cheeks turning a hint of pink. “It’s just…I never thought something like that would actually happen between you two.”

“Yeah well, it did...” Heeseung replied, his smirk growing into a full-on grin. “And just wait until you see how different she is when it’s just the two of us.” he added, the hint of pride evident in his tone.

Heeseung fished out his phone from his pocket and typed a quick message to you, sending it off.

*‘Meet me in the janitor’s closet on the third floor during lunch. I need to talk to you.’*

As he put his phone back in his pocket, Sunghoon noticed the screen and raised an eyebrow. “Texting y/n?” he asked, with a mocking tone.

Heeseung rolled his eyes again. “You’re damn observant, aren’t you?” he retorted sarcastically. “Yeah, just asked her to meet me later during lunch.”

Jake, never one to back down from teasing his friend, proposed, "Why don't you bring her to eat with us? We want to get to know your 'girlfriend' better, at least that's what you're telling us... But let's be real, no one truly believes that you two are actually together." Sunghoon, equally skeptical as Jake, nodded in agreement.

Everyone was well aware of the animosity between the two popular students, Heeseung and y/n. Jake's and Sunghoon's doubts about their supposed relationship echoed what many others had assumed.

Heeseung rolled his eyes at both of their teasing comments. “Alright, alright, settle down.” he replied, a small smirk on his face. “I’ll ask her, but I can’t promise what her reaction will be.”

You responded firmly, steadfast in your refusal. "Absolutely not," you shook your head vehemently, your expression reflecting your firm rejection. "I'm already enduring the farce of pretending to like you, and there's no chance I'm subjecting myself to lunch with you, let alone two others who are practically copy and pastes of you!"

Heeseung let out an exaggerated sigh, feigning disappointment. “Aww, come on, you’re no fun.” he replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You’re gonna have to meet them eventually, so you may as well do it sooner rather than later.”

Heeseung watched as you began to protest and couldn’t help but smile to himself at your stubbornness. “Come on, it’s just lunch. I’m sure you can handle it.” he persuaded, taking a step closer to you.

You internally grappled with the idea. It's just three more months, you told yourself. Can I really endure him? With a reluctant sigh, you finally relented, "Fine, I suppose it won’t be too bad."

Heeseung hid a triumphant smirk as he heard you finally cave. “That’s my girl.” he teased, stepping forward again and gently lifting your chin with his index finger.

Your body involuntarily tensed up as the sound of his voice echoed in your mind. "That's my girl…" The phrase played on a loop, causing a ripple of unease to ripple through you as you trailed alongside Heeseung towards the table where his friends awaited.

Jake and Sunghoon, who were still sitting at the table, looked up as the two of you approached. Jake’s eyes widened with surprise as he actually saw you walking next to Heeseung, while Sunghoon simply raised an eyebrow skeptically, silently questioning if the sight was real.

Heeseung placed his hand on the small of your back as you approached the table, a smirk on his face. “y/n, meet Sunghoon and Jake. Sunghoon, Jake, y/n.” he said casually, pulling out a chair for you to sit.

Sunghoon and Jake could only stare up at you, still trying to process the fact that Heeseung’s supposed ‘girlfriend’ was actually here and sitting right in front of them. Jake’s mouth was hung open slightly and Sunghoon just silently studied your features.

Heeseung noticed the boys’ awestruck expressions and let out a low chuckle, pushing your chair in as you sat. “Boys, quit staring like that. You’re making her uncomfortable.” he teased, taking a seat next to you.

Heeseung's attempt at making it seem like he cared fell flat, met with your sharp retort. "It's alright, Heeseung," you bit back, irritation lacing your words. "Save your pity, I don't need it." The tension between you two was palpable, and it was undeniable to anyone observing the situation.

Heeseung let out a scoff at the sharpness in your tone, an annoyed smile on his face. He reached beneath the table and placed his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly, a silent warning for you to keep up the act.

Sunghoon and Jake noticed the subtle interaction between the two of you and exchanged a glance. Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed as he watched Heeseung’s hand rest on your thigh, while a smirk tugged at Jake’s lips.

“Are you sure this isn’t just some elaborate prank?” Sunghoon finally spoke up, his eyes still fixed on Heeseung’s hand on your thigh.

Heeseung chuckled in response, his hand squeezing your thigh once more in warning. “I can assure you, this is real.” he replied, his eyes challenging Sunghoon to question him further.

Jake’s smirk grew wider at Heeseung’s response and he leaned forward slightly. “But the real question is, how’d you manage to pull *her* of all people?” he asked, referring to you with a nod of his head.

"I'm not some toy you can toss around." Your words were sharp and biting, a steely edge to your voice as you fixed a defiant glare on Jake. "I have my own mind, my own thoughts and feelings. I'm not some plaything for you to manipulate."

Heeseung’s grip on your thigh tightened slightly in warning, but his smile never wavered. “Damn, you’re feisty. I like it.” he commented casually, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You internally seethed, feeling the weight of the situation settling upon you. Could you truly maintain this act for three months, with everyone watching? Yes, you'd harbored a secret crush on Heeseung before the whole fiasco with the vomiting video, and seeing him present a facade of affection towards you now only made you feel like gagging.

Sunghoon noticed the tension between the two of you yet again and chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head. “I still don’t believe it.” he commented, the skepticism obvious in his tone.

Heeseung rolled his eyes in response to Sunghoon, his hand still resting on your thigh. “I already told you, it’s real. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.” he replied, his gaze challenging Sunghoon to dispute his words.

“Sit here y/n,” Heeseung said, a commanding gesture. Heeseung patted his lap and motioned for you to take a seat on it. Seemingly unfazed by the fact that it was in the middle of the school day and they had an audience in the form of his friends.

Your eyes widened slightly at his direct instruction, your mind racing with thoughts of how ridiculous the situation was. Did he really expect you to just sit on his lap like it was normal?

Sunghoon and Jake, on the other hand, watched eagerly, expecting you to refuse the demeaning act.

Heeseung’s smirk grew wider as he saw your eyes widen, a silent challenge in them as he patted his lap once more. “Come on, it’s not that difficult. Just sit like the good girl you are.” he urged casually, as if it was completely normal for someone like you to sit in his lap.

Jake and Sunghoon couldn’t hold back their laughter any longer and broke into a fit of chuckles. “Yeah, come on, good girl.” Jake mocked, clearly enjoying seeing you squirm under Heeseung’s command.

You reluctantly rose to your feet, shooting Jake a withering glare before complying. You perched yourself awkwardly on Heeseung's lap, your expression a mixture of resignation and annoyance, silently praying that this moment would pass quickly.

Heeseung, however, didn't miss the silent pleading in your eyes. As soon as you sat down, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer, his grip just a little tighter than was necessary.

Jake's chuckle turned into a genuine laugh as he saw the way Heeseung manhandled you into sitting on his lap. "Damn, she really is your good girl, huh?" he teased.

Heeseung shot Jake a warning glare, not appreciating his taunting tone. "Shut it." he replied, his voice stern. But a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he pulled you even closer, his hand resting on your hip.

Sunghoon, who had been quietly observant during the whole scene, rolled his eyes at Heeseung's display. "Possessive, much?" he muttered under his breath, but not quietly enough for you to miss the comment.

Heeseung's eyes narrowed at Sunghoon's snide remark, but he didn't respond. Instead, he slid his hand slightly higher up your thigh, his touch deliberate and possessive.

Before you could stand up, Heeseung's firm grip on your waist halted your movements. He issued a direct statement, "Let's skip class." Your eyes widened in disbelief, the words ringing in your ears. "Skip class?" you echoed, shocked at the audacity of his suggestion.

Heeseung just smirked in response, his demeanor unapologetic. "Yeah, skip class. I want to spend some time alone with my *girlfriend*." he retorted arrogantly, the word 'girlfriend' dripping with sarcasm.

Heeseung, surprised, suggested skipping class, and you admitted, "I've never done that before." The thought of ditching school alarmed you, as it was a departure from your usual disciplined routine.

Heeseung chuckled at your confession, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Never? Really?" he teased, his hand still resting on your thigh. "You're missing out, it's freeing. Come on, live a little."

With a sarcastic tone, you retorted, "And yet you act like a high school dropout," before reluctantly agreeing to skip class for the remainder of the day.

Heeseung rolled his eyes at your sarcastic remark but didn’t deny it. “Damn, you’re a smartass.” he chuckled, amused by your attitude. “I can’t wait to have you to myself for the rest of the day.”

He glanced over to Sunghoon and Jake, who were watching the interaction intently. "We're skipping the rest of the day. Don't try to stop us." he informed them, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jake smirked and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Damn, you’re really getting serious. Go have your alone time with her.” he jeered, clearly enjoying seeing Heeseung so possessive over you.

Sunghoon just rolled his eyes, but wisely didn't comment on the situation. He just observed silently, his eyes flickering between you and Heeseung, studying your every move.

Heeseung just chuckled in response to Jake’s comment before turning his attention back to you. "Let's go." he said, gently squeezing your thigh before patting it, signaling for you to stand up.

You reluctantly obeyed, standing up from his lap and silently vowing to stay as far away from him as possible. Heeseung rose from his seat, grabbing his bag in the process, and made his way over to you. Without warning, he slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side.

Jake and Sunghoon chuckled again at his possessive gesture, clearly enjoying the show. “You two lovebirds have fun.” Jake called out with a smirk.

Heeseung just rolled his eyes at Jake’s comment and led you towards the exit, his arm still firmly around your shoulders. As you both left the cafeteria, he pulled you a little closer and whispered in your ear, “Don’t you dare try to run off on me.”

You gritted your teeth at his warning but didn’t respond, knowing that it would only lead to more trouble. You allowed him to guide you out of the school building, your thoughts racing with a million different escape plans.

Once you both were outside, Heeseung turned to you, a smirk on his face. “Now, I have a proposal for you. We have several options for how to spend the rest of the day, but I’ll let you choose.”

He paused for a moment, studying you silently, before continuing. “We can go get some food, maybe do a little shopping, or…” he trailed off, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “We can do whatever you want. But on one condition.”

You raised an eyebrow, silently bracing yourself for whatever condition he was about to set. “What is it?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He chuckled at your cautious tone before stepping closer, his hand moving to rest on your hip. “All I want is your undivided attention. No trying to run away or ignoring me. You’ll have to stick with me for the rest of the day and do whatever I say.” he replied, his voice dripping with authority.

You agreed, albeit hesitantly, with a slow nod. "Alright, I suppose I can do that..." you murmured, before changing the subject. "Speaking of which, when are we supposed to meet your parents? This whole fake dating charade is meant to convince them that you're in a relationship, right?"

Heeseung chuckled and nodded at your question. "Yeah, you're right. We'll have to convince my parents at some point. But don’t worry, we have some time before that. They’re away on a business trip right now, so we don’t need to worry about them just yet."

Surprise washed over you at Heeseung's revelation. "Business trip?!" you exclaimed. "Then why are we going through the motions of being all lovey-dovey if your parents are out of town for business?"

Heeseung smirked at your outburst before answering your question. "Because, my dear fake girlfriend, it's better to start early." he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "We can’t just suddenly be all lovey-dovey once they come back. We need to make it believable."

Internalized frustration simmered within you as you emitted a sigh of resignation. "I just want to go home," you confessed, your weariness evident in your exhausted tone.

Heeseung chuckled, clearly amused by your predicament. "Ah-ah, no going home. You agreed to spend the rest of the day with me, remember?" he reminded you, his hand gripping your hip a little tighter.

A mumbled invitation escaped your lips, "You can come over, I suppose..." Though your words were delivered indifferently, a hint of reluctance crept into your tone.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow at the half-hearted invitation, a smirk plastered on his face. "Oh? You're actually letting me come over? I almost feel special." he teased, a hint of mockery in his voice.

He took a small step closer to you, his grip on your hip still firm. "But I get to decide what we do at your place, got it? No arguments, no complaints. You'll be a good girl and do as I say." he told you, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Heeseung’s smirk only grew wider as he saw the resignation etched on your face. He knew you didn’t want him anywhere near your home, but you didn’t have a choice. "Great, then it’s decided. We’re going to your place." he stated before grabbing your hand and pulling you along.

As you guys walked to your home, Heeseung occasionally glanced over at you. Your expression was a mixture of resignation and annoyance, and he couldn’t help but find it amusing. He found it hilariously ironic that the person he had always hated was now stuck with him for the rest of the day.

Once they arrived at your house, Heeseung immediately made himself at home. He kicked off his shoes and made his way to the living room, flopping down on the couch with a sense of entitlement. He patted the spot next to him, signaling for you to join him.

Annoyance flickered across your face as you observed his lackadaisical approach to removing his shoes. Irritated, you placed his shoes neatly by the entrance before proceeding to take off your own.

Heeseung had been watching you as you took off your shoes, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at your particularity. “Ever the neat freak, huh?” he teased, a smirk on his face.

He patted the spot next to him again, his smirk never faltering. “Come on, sit down. I don’t bite.” he quipped, clearly enjoying seeing you out of your comfort zone.

You hesitantly made your way towards the couch and sat down next to him, making sure to keep a respectable distance. Heeseung just chuckled at your attempt to maintain space and grabbed your arm, pulling you closer until you were flush against his side.

"Ah-ah, no escaping from me now." he teased, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, trapping you against him. He leaned back against the couch, clearly satisfied with your discomfort.

"Now, since we have a few hours to kill, I have a few ideas on how we can spend our time." he said, his hand idly stroking your shoulder.

Frustration crept into your voice as you snapped at him, your cheeks tinged with red. "Enough, already!" you exclaimed. "There's no one around; you don't need to keep up the act."

Heeseung just chuckled at your outburst, his smirk growing wider. "Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he taunted, his hand moving up to gently caress your cheek. "Besides, I like seeing you all flustered and uncomfortable."

He leaned closer, his breath fanning against your ear. "And who knows, maybe I just enjoy having you this close to me." he teased, his tone low and sultry.

His hand moved from your cheek to your hair, gently twirling a strand between his fingers. "You know, you're actually quite cute when you're all annoyed like this." he whispered, his voice laced with amusement.

He sat back against the couch, pulling you with him so you were practically laying on his chest. "But don't worry, we have the whole day to spend together. We'll have plenty of opportunities for me to drive you crazy."

Heeseung's hand continued to caress your hair, his touch strangely soothing. For a moment, he seemed almost gentle, his arrogance temporarily replaced by this unexpected tenderness.

But the moment was short-lived as his smirk returned, his voice dripping with arrogance again. "So, how about we watch a movie or something? I’m sure there's something on TV that'll keep us entertained for a bit."

He reached for the remote and flicked through the channels, eventually landing on a romantic comedy. He glanced down at you with a smirk. "King the land sounds good huh?."

As the movie played, Heeseung's hand never left your hair. He continued to absently toy with the strands, his attention half on the movie and half on teasing you.

Every now and then, he would drop a sarcastic comment about the movie, or make a snide remark about how the couple on screen reminded him of you and him. His touch remained light and almost comforting, a stark contrast to his usual obnoxious demeanor.

A mischievous smirk tugged at the corners of Heeseung's lips as he observed a scene playing out on the TV. "You know," he remarked, a hint of humor in his voice, "that actress kinda looks like you."

He glanced down at you, his hand still lazily caressing your hair. "Don’t worry, you're much cuter than her." he teased, a smirk still playing on his lips.

The situation was becoming unbearable. You reached your limit; you couldn't continue pretending to love him and enduring his touch. Frustration boiled over, and you abruptly stood up, your emotions taking control.

Heeseung's smirk faltered for a moment as you suddenly stood up. He hadn't expected such a sudden outburst from you. He leaned back on the couch, his head tilted to the side as he regarded you with intrigue.

The words erupted from you, a mix of anger and resignation. "I can't do this anymore!" you exclaimed, your hands clenching into tight fists as frustration surged through you. "The deal's off. It's over."

Heeseung's amused expression faded, replaced by a brief flicker of surprise. He had not expected you to concede so easily. He sat up on the couch, his eyes never leaving your face as he studied you silently.

Heeseung's surprise quickly turned into a smug grin, his arrogance fully returning. He stood up from the couch, casually making his way towards you. "Oh, come on now. You’re just giving up so easily? Where's the fight in you?”

Your true feelings finally burst forth, the pent-up emotions overflowing. "I just can't keep up this act anymore!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with frustration. "Spending the entire day pretending that I don't loathe every second of being around you... it's too much!"

Heeseung chuckled, his arms now crossed lazily across his chest as he leaned back on the couch. "Loathe every second, huh?" he remarked, his voice dripping with smugness. "I can't say I'm surprised, considering how much you've always hated me."

A sarcastic scoff escaped your lips as you crossed your arms, a defiant look in your eyes. "Please, enlighten me, Heeseung," you retorted, your voice laced with irritation. "Why do you think I despise you so deeply?"

Heeseung's smirk widened as he reveled in your irritation. He chuckled softly before responding, his voice dripping with nonchalance. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because I uploaded that embarrassing video of you puking your brains out at that frat party back in our freshman year."

"That's exactly what I want to know!" you shot back, your anger and hurt seething beneath the surface. "What made you humiliate me that day? What prompted you to upload that video for everyone to see?"

Heeseung shrugged, his expression unrepentant. "It was just a silly prank, that’s all." he replied nonchalantly. "I didn’t think you’d take it so personally."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, and you stepped back, creating a physical distance between you and him. "Wow," you said, shaking your head in disbelief. "You really are a heartless jerk."

Heeseung’s smirk didn’t waver, and he took a step closer to you. "Oh c’mon, it’s not like it was the end of the world." he taunted. "Besides, it was pretty funny to see you all green-faced and puking your guts out.

A firm demand left your lips as you gestured towards the front door. "Get out," you directed, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Heeseung’s smirk faltered for a moment, his eyes narrowing at your firmness. He paused for a moment, his gaze locked on you, before a taunting smirk returned to his lips. "And what if I don’t want to?" he challenged, taking another step towards you.

“Then I'll call the cops and accuse you of harassing me!" Your eyes narrowed, your anger and determination evident.

Heeseung chuckled, his arms still crossed, not intimidated in the slightest. "And what makes you think anyone would believe you?" he countered, a hint of smugness in his voice.

Frustration and exhaustion consumed you, pushing you to the edge. "I'm done," you murmured, your voice filled with weariness as you retreated to your bedroom.

Heeseung's smirk faded as you retreated to your bedroom, leaving him standing alone in the living room. He watched the door close behind you, a flicker of something inexplicable crossing his face before he quickly masked it with his usual arrogance.

He stood there for a few moments, the silence deafening. He didn't know what to do next. He had expected you to cave in, to give him what he wanted. But he hadn't expected you to stand up to him, to outright kick him out. The look in your eyes had been different, more vulnerable, almost... hurt.

He gritted his teeth, his mind whirling with a mix of irritation and something else he couldn’t quite identify. He was not used to people not giving him what he wanted, and he hated that you had just stood up to him like that.

He considered knocking on your bedroom door, to go in there and confront you, to demand an explanation for your behavior. But something held him back. Maybe it was the memory of the hurt look in your eyes, or maybe it was his own ego refusing to stoop down to that level.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the inexplicable turmoil within him. He glanced around the living room for a moment, realizing that there wasn't anything else for him to do here. After a few moments of internal debate, he reluctantly made his way to the front door and let himself out.

—

The next few days were tense and awkward, as both of you avoided each other in the hallways and classes. The only interactions you had were brief glances filled with silent anger and resentment.

Heeseung's usual air of arrogance was even more pronounced, and he made no effort to hide his irritation whenever you happened to be in proximity to each other

Heeseung, leaning against a locker with a scowl on his face, is approached by Sunghoon and Jake as they walk up to him.

"Hey, what’s with the sour face?" Jake asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Heeseung just grumbled and rolled his eyes, clearly not in the mood to talk.

“Did you and y/n break up or something?” Sunghoon asked, looking at you talk to a couple of your friends from far away.

Heeseung’s scowl deepened as he watched you interacting with your friends.

"Yeah, something like that," he muttered, his tone laced with irritation.

Sunghoon and Jake exchanged surprised glances after hearing Heeseung's words. They hadn’t expected that.

"Wait, seriously? You and y/n?" Sunghoon questioned, sounding skeptical.

Heeseung's jaw tightened as he remembered the incident that had started all of this. It was that stupid party three years ago that had caused him to upload that stupid video, and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

"Yeah, we were supposed to be fake dating, but she just called it off."

Jake and Sunghoon looked surprised again, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Why did she call it off?" Jake inquired, curiosity piqued.

Heeseung grunted, his irritation resurfacing. "She said she couldn’t keep up the act any longer and that she despised me too much."

Sunghoon and Jake exchange surprised glances again.

"Damn," Sunghoon muttered. "I didn't know she hated you *that* much."

Jake chimed in, his tone serious. "I think you should apologize, dude," he stated bluntly. "What you did to her was messed up."

Heeseung rolled his eyes, his usual cockiness returning. "Why the hell would I apologize? She should be thanking me; her popularity skyrocketed after that whole puking incident blew up on social media."

"Are you kidding?" Jake retorted, his tone laced with disbelief. "You uploaded a video of her puking her guts out for the whole school to see, and you think she should thank you? Seriously?"

Heeseung shrugged nonchalantly, his expression unrepentant. "Hey, it’s not my fault if she can’t handle a little embarrassment. Besides, we were both drunk that night. She was drinking just as much as I was, if not more."

Sunghoon shook his head, disappointment evident in his eyes. "Man, you’ve really got some messed up ideas about what constitutes a ‘prank.’ You humiliated her, Heeseung. That’s not something you do to someone you care about, even if it’s fake dating. You need to apologize to her and make things right."

Heeseung let out an exasperated sigh, his irritation building. "First of all, I don’t care about her one bit. And second, why do I have to apologize when it was her own stupidity that got her into that situation in the first place? She’s the one who downed all those shots and ended up puking. Not my fault she can’t handle her alcohol.”

"Dude, that's completely irrelevant," Jake interjected, his voice firm. "It doesn’t matter how much she drank or how she ended up puking. What matters is that you deliberately chose to film her and upload it online, without her consent or knowledge, for hundreds of people to see. That’s a shitty thing to do, no matter how you spin it."

Heeseung let out another annoyed sigh as he looked at the disapproving faces of Sunghoon and Jake. He knew they were right, but he didn't want to admit it.

"Fine," he grumbled, his tone reluctant. "I’ll apologize. But I’m not going to enjoy it, and I’m not going to mean it."

Sunghoon and Jake nodded, but their expressions remained skeptical. They knew better than to get their hopes up.

"Good luck," Jake said, a slight hint of sarcasm in his tone.

Heeseung shot him a glare but didn’t respond. He grumbled under his breath and walked away, making his way towards where he knew you would be.

He found you with a small group of friends, chatting and laughing. You hadn’t noticed him approaching yet, and for a moment, he paused, watching you from a distance. There was something about the way you smiled and laughed that tugged at some unknown part of him, but he quickly shook it off, reminding himself that he didn’t care about you.

He took a deep breath, mustering up his usual arrogant facade, and took a step forward, making his presence known. He cleared his throat, catching your attention.

You and your friends turned to look at him, your expression immediately turning cold the moment you saw him. You tried to suppress the anger and hurt that bubbled up inside you every time you laid eyes on him.

Heeseung’s heart clenched at the look on your face, but he quickly masked it with his usual cocky smirk. He stepped forward, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Hey, can we talk,” he began, his tone nonchalant, betraying none of the conflict within him.

You and your friends exchanged wary glances. It was unusual for Heeseung to ask to talk to you, especially in front of an audience. You felt an uneasy feeling settle in your stomach, but you couldn’t deny your curiosity. You nodded, reluctantly stepping away from your friends to talk to him.

Once you were a few steps away from your friends, far enough for them not to overhear the conversation, Heeseung spoke again. His voice had a hint of strain in it, as if he was forcing himself to speak.

"I need to talk to you about something," he said, his tone serious for once.

There was no room for discussion as you made your stance clear. "If you think you can just waltz up and apologize, forget it," you stated firmly. "I don't want to hear it."

Heeseung’s expression faltered for a moment, momentarily taken aback by your firmness. He hadn’t expected you to be this adamant, but he quickly recovered and masked his surprise with his usual haughty demeanor.

"Oh really," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You’re just going to reject my apology without even hearing me out?"

Your eyes rolled in annoyance. "You've got thirty seconds. That's all you get," you conceded, reluctantly granting him a brief opportunity to speak.

Heeseung’s eyes widened slightly at your ultimatum. He didn’t expect you to give him a chance to speak, but he wasn’t going to waste it. He took a step closer to you, his face suddenly serious as he looked into your eyes.

Without warning, Heeseung reached forward and grabbed your face, his hands cupping your cheeks as he pressed his lips firmly against yours in a sudden, unexpected kiss.

Your eyes widened in surprise as he kissed you, the suddenness of his actions catching you off guard. Your body tensed involuntarily, the shock of the kiss coursing through your body. But as much as you despised him and his arrogance, your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat at the feel of his lips against yours.

A few students around them let out soft gasps and coos as they noticed the unexpected kiss. It was quite the sight to behold, especially considering the tension between the two of you that had been simmering for years.

Heeseung ignored the reactions of the people around them, his focus solely on you. When he finally pulled away, his eyes searched your face, trying to gauge your reaction.

You were still in shocked state and speechless, your mind still reeling from the unexpected kiss. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to catch your breath, your gaze firmly fixed on his face.

"Heeseung," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "What the hell was that?"

Heeseung let out a sigh, his hands dropping from your cheeks. He took a step back, giving you some space.

"It was my way of apologizing," he replied, his voice low. His gaze flicked over your face, watching your expression carefully. "And my way of making you listen to me for more than 30 seconds."

Your brows furrowed, your shock quickly turning into irritation. "Is that your idea of an apology?" you questioned, your voice laced with disbelief. "Kissing me without any warning or consent?"

Heeseung noticed the slight flush on your cheeks and the way your breath hitched briefly during the kiss. Your reaction didn’t go unnoticed by him, and a hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"You seemed to have enjoyed it, and you didn’t pull back,” he pointed out, a slight edge in his voice.

You blushed, feeling embarrassed that he had noticed your slight response to his unexpected kiss. You quickly composed yourself, trying to maintain a stern expression.

"That doesn’t matter," you retorted, your tone firm. "You can’t just kiss someone without their consent and call it an apology."

Heeseung watched as you tried to mask your reaction to the kiss, amused by your obvious effort. He took a step closer to you, his gaze locking onto yours.

"Oh really? Well then, should I give you another one?" he teased, his voice low and slightly seductive.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you found yourself unable to resist as you whispered a soft, almost reluctant, “Yes.”

A sly smirk tugged at Heeseung’s lips at your response, and he didn’t hesitate to step closer to you. His hands came up to cup your face again, his palms warm and firm against your skin.

Without another word, he leaned in and captured your lips in another kiss. Despite the initial surprise, your body responded instantly, and after a moment’s hesitation, you melted into the kiss, your lips moving against his in a surprising display of reluctant want.

“Ew-“ Jake and Sunghoon watched with a mix of shock and confusion as you abruptly ended the kiss as they appeared out of nowhere. "I thought you were supposed to apologize, not make out!" Jake exclaimed incredulously.

Heeseung pulled back, his expression a mixture of irritation and slight embarrassment at being caught by Jake and Sunghoon. He shot them a glare, annoyed at their interruption.

"We were in the middle of something," he retorted, his tone sharp.

Jake chuckled, a smirk on his face. "Yeah, we could see that," he commented, clearly amused by the situation.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, looked between you and Heeseung with a slight frown. "So, did he apologize or not?" he asked.

Heeseung let out an exasperated sigh, his irritation resurfacing. "I was trying to," he grumbled. "And then the situation got a bit... distracted."

Jake let out a snort of laughter as he glanced at you, your cheeks still tinged with color from the unexpected kiss.

Heeseung leaned down, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a low tone, ensuring his words were for your ears only.

"We’re not done yet," he murmured, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Your face flushed with embarrassment as the new nickname slipped from your lips, a mix of surprise and reluctant endearment. "Stop it, Hee..." you protested, shoving him away gently.

Heeseung chuckled lowly at your reaction, his smirk only widening as he saw the blush on your cheeks. The nickname slipped out so naturally from your lips, and he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction.

"Nope, not a chance," he replied, his tone filled with amusement. "I like the sound of it. You’re stuck with it now."

—

Over the next few days, the school was abuzz with the talk of you and Heeseung's unexpected public display of affection. The kiss he had given you in front of everyone was the talk of the school, and his friends constantly teased him about it.

One evening, Heeseung couldn’t shake the feeling that you were avoiding him. After not seeing you in the halls after classes, he decided to look for you.

He searched the school and finally found you sitting by yourself in a secluded rooftop area, looking out into the darkening sky. Heeseung approached, footsteps soft against the gravel, and stood a few feet away from you.

"You’ve been avoiding me," he stated, his tone tinged with a hint of annoyance. He leaned against the fence, crossing his arms as he observed you from the corner of his eye.

You turned your head to look at him, your expression neutral. "So what if I have been?" you replied, your voice cool and even.

Heeseung’s jaw tightened slightly at your nonchalant response. He hadn’t expected such an indifferent reaction from you, and it irritated him even more. He pushed off the fence and took a few steps towards you.

"Why are you avoiding me? Because of what I did?" he asked, his voice sharp. He was standing only a few feet away from you now, his eyes locked onto your face, trying to decipher your expression.

Frustration and hurt bubbled up within you, your voice tinged with pain. "After that kiss," you spoke, your words thick with emotion, "I actually believed that you might have feelings for me. But I see now that it's just another game to you, isn't it?"

Heeseung’s jaw tensed as you spoke, your raw emotional response catching him slightly off guard. He hadn’t expected you to believe that he had feelings for you, especially after all the years of animosity between you.

"It’s not a game," he managed to grind out, his voice laced with a hint of defensiveness.

He took a step closer to you, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "The kiss was genuine," he admitted, his gaze fixed on your face. "I didn’t do it just for fun or as part of some game."

He took another step closer, the gap between you now small. He reached out, his hand gently lifting your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

"It just happened," he said, his voice softer now. "I wasn’t planning on it, but I couldn’t help myself."

He studied your face, looking for any sign of your reaction. He was struggling to understand why he had acted so impulsively, why he'd wanted to kiss you so badly.

"You just... you looked so captivating in that moment," he mumbled, his voice low.

His hand was still under your chin, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. He realized how close he was to you now, his heart racing for some inexplicable reason.

"I just did it, without thinking," he murmured, his eyes intently fixed on yours. "And I don’t regret it."

Your voice trembled with vulnerability as you sought confirmation. "You don't...?” You whispered, desperate for reassurance, the words hanging heavily in the air.

Heeseung’s grip on your chin tightened slightly as he responded, his voice firm and unwavering.

"No," he said, his tone resolute. "I don’t regret it at all. It felt right."

He took another step closer, his body almost touching yours now. His eyes searched your face, his gaze intent.

"It felt right," he repeated, his voice softer now. His hand slowly slid from your chin down to your cheek, and he cupped your face gently, as if he was afraid you’d pull away.

Heeseung’s gaze held a hint of something—an emotion that you couldn’t quite place as he looked at you. He was still holding your face tenderly in his hand.

"Do you have plans tonight?" he asked, his voice soft. "I have some studying to do. Want to join me?"

A laugh threatened to slip from your lips at the surprising invitation. "You, studying? That's a first," you teased, your words filled with disbelief.

Heeseung rolled his eyes, a small smirk playing on his lips. He knew that he wasn’t exactly known for his diligent study habits, but he had some studying he needed to catch up on.

"Oh, shut up. I do study sometimes." he retorted, his tone light.

Heeseung's smirk widened as he picked up on your entendre, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He took a step closer, his body now nearly pressed against yours.

"Trust me, you'll enjoy this kind of studying," he murmured, his voice low.

With that, Heeseung leaned closer, his lips hovering only inches from yours. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, and his pulse quickened.

He didn’t know what had gotten into him, but all he knew was that he wanted to be close to you, to feel your touch, to hear your voice. And right now, studying seemed like the perfect excuse to get what he wanted.

The nickname slipped from your lips once again, your voice tinted with unexpected familiarity. "Not right now, Hee," you echoed, the term of endearment rolling off your tongue almost effortlessly.

Heeseung's chest tightened at the sound of the nickname on your lips. It was just a slip up, a moment of weakness, but it sent a wave of something through him that he couldn’t explain.

He pushed closer, his body pressed against yours now. His hand moved from your face to your waist, holding you firmly against him.

"I think we should skip the studying," he murmured, his voice low. "I have something else in mind."

Heeseung pulled out his phone and typed something quickly into it before looking back up at you.

"Texted you my address," he said, his voice cool and casual. He took another step back before giving you a brief smirk. "Don’t be late."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart racing a little faster than before.

You stood there momentarily surprised, watching as Heeseung sauntered away. Your mind was still spinning from his sudden invitation, the unexpected nickname still lingering on your lips.

Without hesitating any longer, you fished out your phone from your pocket and saw the notification from Heeseung—his address. A part of you knew what he had in mind, and you couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you at the thought.

As you rode the bus to Heeseung’s place, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. It still felt unreal, the fact that you were on your way to your sworn enemy's home with who knows what kind of intentions.

The butterflies in your stomach were becoming more prominent, and you took deep breaths to still your heart. It was only a study session, nothing more. At least, it’s what you told yourself.

After a few more minutes, the bus came to a stop and you stepped off, looking around to make sure you were in the right place. You spotted Heeseung’s apartment building up ahead, and quickened your steps.

As you approached the door to his unit, you hesitated for a split second before knocking. The seconds ticked by, your heart rate increasing with each passing moment. Finally, the door opened, revealing Heeseung in a casual hoodie and sweatpants.

His gaze was intense, his eyes roaming over your figure in a way that made you feel even more flustered. He stepped aside wordlessly to let you in, and you walked past him into the apartment.

The air felt thick with tension, and you couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement mixed with nerves as you stood in his space, wondering what the night would bring.

His gaze sharpened as he looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on your figure with an intensity that made your heart race.

“You're here,” he said as he closed the door behind you and locks it, the sound echoing in the silence of the mansion.

As soon as the door was locked, Heeseung turned to face you, his eyes dark with a fierce hunger. Without a word, he closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to grab the back of your neck and pulled you in for a forceful kiss.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips to claim your mouth entirely. He walked you backwards until your back hit the wall, pinning you there with his body.

"Fucking yell y/n,” he muttered, hooking his fingers in your waistband, tearing your pants down roughly as he kicked them aside along with your shoes.

He stepped back briefly to take in your half-naked form, his chest heaving. He then reached up to remove his own hoodie, revealing his chiseled torso.

His heart was pounding in his chest, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. The sight of you standing there, nearly naked, drove him wild. He closes the distance again, his calloused hands running rough against your skin.

“Heeseung, I-“ His movements suddenly still as your words reach his ears.

His eyes met yours intensely, a mix of emotion crossing his features - desire, possessiveness, and something more tender he didn’t want to acknowledge.

"Shut up," he whispered against your ear, his breath hot and heavy "Just..."

He hooked his arms under your thighs and lifts you up against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist. He stepped out of his sweatpants, kicking them aside, leaving him in just his boxers.

Heeseung then pinned you against the wall, his hips pressing against yours intimately. You could feel his hard member poking at your thigh. "Tell me to stop," he whispered against your neck, his teeth nipping at your sensitive skin. "Say the words..." His hands trailed up your sides, his thumbs brushing against your breasts, making you let out a quiet gasp.

His breath catches at the sound of your desperate whimpers, feeling your nails digging into his back.

"Please..." you moaned, arching against him. "Heeseung... I can't..." His self-control is barely hanging by a thread as he listened to your pleading.

His control finally snapped at your pleading, and he captured your mouth in a brutal kiss, one hand tangling in your hair while the other slides between your legs. "Is this what you want?" he growled against your lips, touching you intimately through your underwear.

He broke away from your mouth just long enough to pull down your bra, exposing your breasts. His head dipped down, capturing one taut nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his hand continued its steady rhythm between your legs.

"Mmh, so good... Heeseung, please... more... " You gasped out, your head falling back against the wall as he sucked on your sensitive nipple, your hips bucking against his hand. "Inside... I need you inside..."

His chuckled is dark and husky as he hooked his fingers in your underwear, slowly dragging it down your legs. He kneeled down, spreading your thighs over his shoulders. "Lift up," he ordered, his breath hot against your most intimate area. “Wanna taste you princess..."

Heeseung pulled your hips closer, his tongue finding your center. He licked slowly, deliberately, savoring your sweet taste. "You're so wet for me..." he groaned, adding pressure, his tongue swirling around your sensitive bud. "Tell me... tell me how much you want it..."

He looked up at you with hooded eyes, maintaining eye contact as he continued his teasing movements with his tongue "Tell me..." he says, his voice is low and commanding "Tell me how bad you need my cock..."

He pushed one finger inside you, then another "This what you want?"

"Please... Heeseung, yes... I need you... your cock..." You whimpered, your hips involuntarily pressing against his fingers "I'm so close... please..." You're completely lost in pleasure, no longer caring about anything but his touch "Touch me..."

He removed his fingers, standing up and quickly unbuckling his belt. "Shut up and spread your legs." He demanded, pulling out his hard, thick cock. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk straight."

He positioned himself between your spread thighs, rubbing his thick head against your soaked folds teasingly "Heeseung... Please… want you to fill me up!”

He growled at the sound of his name falling from your lips in desperation, finally thrusting inside you without warning.

He filled you completely, stretching you out as he buried himself inside you. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling your legs up against his chest as he pounded into you, hitting deep spots that made you scream and claw at his arms "Heeseung! To- to big!"

Shut up,” he hissed, his face a mask of concentration as he continued to pound into you, his hips slapping loudly against yours.

He wrapped his arms around your legs, pulling them over his shoulders, getting impossibly deeper as he continued to stretch you out.

He paused his thrusts, his face twisted in a cruel grin as he reached down and forced your mouth open.

"Take it." He spat into your mouth, the bitter taste of saliva mixing with his own saliva as he held your head in place, making sure you swallowed it. He groaned at the sight, brushing his fingers over your cheek. “Such a good girl for me, yeah?”

You nodded your head in response, bucking your hips up, but he doesn’t move. “You didn’t answer my question princess.”

“I-I’m a good girl for you..” you muttered embarrassingly as Heeseung chuckled at your flustered expression.

He wiped his thumb across your lips, smearing his saliva mixed with yours "Taste good? Now open your legs wider. I'm not done with you yet,” He let out a low groan, thrusting deeper and harder, his body slapping against yours with force "You feel that?"

"Hnnngh... f-fuck... it's so deep..." You whined, your voice strained and high-pitched as he hits your deepest spots with every thrust. Your legs shook from the intensity, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure and slight pain.

He smirked darkly at your whimpers, continuing to pound into you mercilessly "You're shaking already? I haven't even gotten started yet..." he teased, reaching up and pinches one of your nipples, twisting it slightly.

His free hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing tightly as he continued to thrust into you. "You like it rough, don't you?" He hummed, his face inches from yours. His grip on your throat tightened, cutting off your air supply as he fucks you harder and deeper.

"Heeseung... mmph..!" you responded, too cock hungry to think straight. His hand tightened around your throat, cutting off most of your air as he continues to pound into you forcefully. "You're almost there, aren't you? Those pretty eyes are rolling back..." his voice dropped to a threatening whisper.

His free hand reached down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it viciously as he continues to choke you. He looks into your bulging eyes, enjoying the sight of you struggling to breathe. "Look at me while I strangle you. You so good under me y/n…”

"Look at me... yeah... that's it...” he groaned, rubbing your clit faster while maintaining his grip on your throat, making sure your orgasm builds quickly "Cum for me... let me feel you squeeze my cock..." He groaned, his voice both demanding and seductive.

Aghh... c-can't... breathe..." You managed to choke out between gasps, your vision starting to blur at the edges. His fingers on your clit were driving you crazy, pushing you closer and closer to the edge even as he cuts off your air supply. "Hnngh..."

Heeseung smirked at your breathless whimpers "Just give up... let go..." he said, his voice turning husky. "Cum all over my cock while I choke you... show me how much you want it..." His fingers sped up on your clit, putting more pressure.

His hand on your throat tightened even more, his fingers digging into your neck as he continued to rub your swollen, sensitive bud furiously. "You're getting close, aren't you?” he chuckled, your legs shaking as your nails dig into his back.

He finally relents, releasing his grip on your throat and letting you gasped for air as his other hand keeps rubbing your clit at a frantic pace. He leaned down to press his lips against yours, muffling your screams as he forced his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your cries of ecstasy.

Finally, he broke the kiss just in time to watch your face contort in pleasure as you hit your climax, his fingers still working your clit. "There we go... cum all over my cock like a good girl..." He praised deeply, continuing his thrusts as your inner walls clamped down on him.

Youd body shook uncontrollably as waves of pleasure washed over you, your eyes rolling back as you let out a silent scream. "Heeseung! Feels so good...!" You clawed at his back desperately, your nails digging deep into his skin as you rode out your intense orgasm.

He chuckled darkly, his fingers slowly pulling out of your hair and stroking your cheek tenderly as he continued to thrust in and out of you, drawing out your pleasure. "Shh, baby. You're gushing all over my lap. Look at me." He demanded softly.

You managed to open your eyes and look up at Heeseung, your face flushed and covered in sweat as you panted heavily, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. "Hee-seung..." You whispered his name, your voice hoarse from screaming.

After pulling out, he coated his fingers with your mixed fluids and brought them to your lips. "Taste how good you feel wrapped around my cock..." He commanded softly, but firmly.

"Take it all..." He maintained eye contact as you obeyed, slowly sliding his fingers into your mouth.

"Such a good girl..." He praised softly, watching as you dutifully cleaned his fingers. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss before pulling back. "So pretty..."

Heeseung studied your face closely, his expression unreadable. He was still coming down from the high of your encounter and was struggling to keep a poker face.

"Hey," he said finally, his voice low. "You're unusually quiet. Are you alright?"

You took in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I'm fine," you replied, but you still found yourself unable to meet his gaze. The aftermath of what had just happened had caught up to you, and you were struggling to process all the emotions coursing through you. But you were not ready to deal with that just yet.

"Just tired," you mumbled, shifting to sit up to put your clothes on, your legs wobbly from earlier.

Heeseung watched as you attempted to stand on shaky legs, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "You sure you don't need a hand there, princess?" he teased, pushing himself off the wall and heading over to you.

He grabbed your shirt that lay discarded on the ground and knelt down in front of you. He gently lifted your arms and slipped the shirt over your head, his touch surprisingly gentle. His hands lingered on your hips as he helped you pull the fabric down over your body.

Heeseung's unexpected act of pulling you into a tight embrace caught you off guard. "What are you doing, Hee?" you asked, a hint of surprise in your voice.

He spoke softly, his head buried in the crook of your neck. "I realized I never gave you a proper apology," he murmured.

"I'm sorry, y/n." The genuineness in his voice was undeniable, his remorse palpable.

He pulled away slightly, his hands coming up to cup either side of your face. His eyes met yours and there was something different about his gaze, a vulnerability you'd never seen before. "I'm really sorry," he repeated, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks.

You were taken aback by the earnestness in his eyes, and for the first time, you felt as though he was laying himself bare before you.

"I..." You didn't know how to respond. You had never expected to hear anything like this from Heeseung, let alone this level of vulnerability. "I... I accept your apology," you mumbled softly, still processing everything.

Heeseung's shoulders seemed to drop in relief at your accepting his apology. His hands slid down from your face to rest on your waist, pulling you closer to him again.

"That's a start," he said, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. He leaned in, his forehead touching yours. "We've got a long way to go, you and I."

masterlist

💗tag list: @ayablogsblog @lprww @profoundruinsunknown @jakeswifez @sammie217 @xylatox @sirens-dreams @rayofsunshineeee @mitmit01 @beomluvrr @jaklvbub @zns-things @strayy-kidz @1013club @nodoubtily @fancypeacepersona @leov3rse @hazycottagedreams @jakessrealwife @doveblackboat @heebambilee @immelissaaa

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poisonousquinzel · 1 year ago

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@steaming-goblet-of-nutte-mylk

😭 except Joker's history with sexist behavior, his now over 3 decade long abusive dynamic with Harley, his gross obsession with Batman that has turned into SA before, the events of The Killing Joke & Barbara becoming paralyzed, are all significant and frankly Popular Joker plot points. It is consistent, it's his character at this point.

There's absolutely an issue in comics / their fandoms with inconsistency and back n fourth characterizations, as a Harley fan god I know skdjskd

But Joker is not a character who's greatly affected by it. Like at all.

He's very consistent being an abusive, sexist pig with an obsession towards Batman.

And there is someone who wrote a comic where he won't work with Nazis, that's why folks bring it up. Because 1 time he did a morally decent thing of doing the literal bare minimum & not working with scum of the earth Nazis.

But things like him being abusive or sexist or gross towards Batman aren't aren't rare Batshit Insane plots that happened here and there and Are Inconsistent. Him not being like that is inconsistent.

These aren't things that only people who Really read DC / Gotham related comics know about. Him sexually assaulting Batman maybe since that comic isn't a primary timeline one, but his obsession with Bats is quite literally these people's proof of him being queercoded. So, no.

Joker's actions in these plots are the foundation for his relationships with Batman & Harley, and Barbara no longer being Batgirl and becoming Oracle is directly tied to Joker's horrid actions when he paralyzed her, she's Oracle Right Now.

Sure, especially with Harley, I don't expect people to know every single horrendous thing he's done to her because frankly, there's a Fuck Ton, and I didn't even list it all, I didn't even list half. (Hell, I'm sure there's still moments that I haven't come across yet and that's saying something cause I've consumed just about every single piece of Harley media out there)

But The Killing Joke is a popular DC story, his unhinged obsession with Batman is like the only thing his character is, if you know he's obsessed with Batman, then you know the basics of his character.

And his relationship with Harley has Always been abusive. Like, if all these folks have seen of DC is BTAS, then they still know that. Joker not being abusive towards her is significantly more rare, inconsistent, and Batshit Insane tbf. And 9/10 times the "good moments" are clear as day love bombing to anyone consuming the content that's got more than 1 brain cell, it's just love bombing. It's called the cycle of abuse for a reason.

That's why I said "like y'all's only reference for him is the fucking Lego Movie and GOD it shows" because that's how they act he is all the time. It DOES show.

The Lego Batman Movie Joker is the outlier, he's the inconsistent one when compared to 99% of Joker's out there.

people in the replies of this keep mentioning Joker and him being queercoded n shit and it's just like 😭😭😭😭 y'all are so stupid I stg

Yeah the best example of a good villain whose not bigoted is *checks notes* the dude who violently abused his bisexual girlfriend, drugged her, pushed her into chemicals, ran her over with a car, infected her pet hyenas with rabies and had them attack her, hung her up by the neck with a chain, tried to forcefully impregnate her, pretended he was going to cut her face off to make her scared, made fun of her appearance to her face and to his goons, cut the side of her mouth open with a shaving blade, put a hit out on her, carved a J into her chest, pushed her out of a window 5 stories up, has kicked - punched - slapped - strangled more times than I could list individually,,,,, or has sexually assaulted Batman, and has sexually assaulted Barbara Gordon, is implied to have sexually assaulted someone in Joker (2008), oh and forced Harley to strip in a public crowded bar under threat of detonating the bombs in her and the squad's necks if she didn't. So ya know, also sa.

but hey !!! at least he's not said a slur! and he won't work with Nazis! as if that's not the literal bare minimum. Wow he won't work with Nazis, fucking NAZIS, do you want me to applaud him for doing the easiest thing that any person with even mildly decent or existent morals would decide? Ya know, not working with goddamn Nazis.

No one should be working with fucking nazis?? The bar is in hell.

Being an abusive borderline rapist with a sky high sexist streak is just casual Worst Villain behavior, he's not a bigot!

Everyone knows you're only a bigot of you 1. Say Slurs 2. Work with Nazis.

That's obviously the only qualifying criteria for being a bigot.

The Joker is a whole entire sexist with a history of severe in character abuse and sexual assault. but none of that matters to ((unfortunately large)) sections of the fandom or to locals cause some of y'all would rather just pretend he's an uwu messy gay dude who's just oh so in love with Batman and is not a sexist, abusive bigot cause fuck women and the suffering he enjoys putting them through right? like y'all's only reference for him is the fucking Lego Movie and GOD it shows

#Barbara fans correct me if I'm wrong as I don't consume a lot of her content and im sure i got a couple of yall here<33 #but the killing joke's effect on her character feels pretty obvious to me at least #// hell just the sexist ass remarks he's made about Harley throughout the years and through like every media they've appeared in together #is enough for me to confidently call him sexist #''women am i right officer? can't live with em can't kick em out of a moving car''#i think leto's joker calling her an itch in his crotch should be enough in and of itself because it grosses me tf out #and ya know what so much stuff he's done being such a just Yeah That Sounds Like Something He'd Do / Say #is really fucking annoying because no matter what 9/10 times it doesn't matter if every other character is ooc he's so fucked in the head #that it always just feels in character for him #like the Joker / Mask comic or whatever DISGUSTING SEXIST TRASH but his character towards Harley? 100% accurate #Joker's Last Laugh? the comic where he sends his idk joker army to kidnap her because he wanted to have a baby regardless if she wanted it #horrid shit for Harley's character. her pain and fear and character is treated like a joke. its there for humor #and her final scene in the comic is a JOKE about her being sexually harassed by the military guards and strip searched Again just cause #but Joker not caring what she wants or that they're over or that forcing a pregnancy is Fucking Fucked Up? yeah thats in character.#he's never cared about what she wants or consent or anything #and its fucking frustrating because I'd like to disregard these comics mentally as the gross sexist trash they are but i cant #because regardless of how Harley's characterized or treated by the creative team its still accurate for how /He/ treats her #/He's/ still very much in character when it comes to their dynamic.#and I'm nothing if not someone who must collect every receipt for certain Harley topics and his direct actions towards her are one of them #the only other joker i can think of that doesn't just fit the same exact mold as every other one is Bianca and i still hate her #because she's a joker.#乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ #but at the very least Harley(Holly) was with her (regardless of it being a woman) in like 1997 so #the very very very slim sliver lining is that Harley was shown to be bisexual twice in comic form before the 2000s #BUT THATS IT #// And idk about some of those other fandom plots #but I do remember as someone who was in the MCU fandom for a good while back in the Infinity War/Endgame time #that people really didn't like Captain America working with Hydra/ Nazis.#people were loud about disliking it and its inconsistency in regards to his character (never been a cap fan so idk more skdndks)#but joker's plots aren't like those listed. it's not weird wtf plots that mostly get disregarded its just him being him. a monster.

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kingkatsuki · 1 year ago

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— mess

When something that’s supposed to be a 500 word drabble turns into almost 2k.

Bakugou cums in his pants, but luckily for him he has you to help clean him up.

Warnings: 40 year old virgin!Bakugou, inexperienced Bakugou, experienced reader (or just more experienced than Bakugou), dry humping, premature ejaculation- Bakugou cums in his pants, blow jobs, cum swallowing, not proofread.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.8k.

It was no secret to you that Bakugou Katsuki is a virgin.

Spending the majority of his earlier years chasing his dream of becoming number one, he’d barely found the time to form any sustainable relationships. The few that he’d started barely managed to last a few months before they broke down into nothing, the focus on his goals and dreams too strong to be pushed to the side.

Of course that didn’t stop the Internet and mainstream media from portraying him as a sex icon. Headlines and new stories would often talk about sordid exploits and the lines of women that he’d shared steamy escapades with, when in reality that couldn’t be further from the truth.

And even pushing forty, Bakugou Katsuki is still a virgin. Something that had never really bothered him before, content with working out his frustrations with his fist in the shower to ensure minimal clean up after. Bakugou hated making a mess.

But things were different with you.

You make it difficult for him to think, to remember to breathe as your tongue flicks against his parted lips to delve inside and your hips grind against his lap. The air is hot and heavy as rough hands scramble for purchase, settling on the plush of your hips as he tries to slow you down. To give him a second to think—

Maybe it was naive of him to expect a warm mug set down in front of him when you invited him in for coffee, and not your warm body straddling his hips instead.

Not that he was complaining.

Everything is all too much and not enough at the same time, as he finds himself using his grip to push you down against his crotch with purpose. Chasing that sensation as your lips pepper scorching kisses against the rough stubble littering his jawline.

In the three months you’d been dating, you’d never done anything like this. And Bakugou found himself wondering why you hadn’t, especially when it felt like this—

“Is this too much?” You managed to make out from between heated kisses, trying to stop yourself from grinding down on top of him. But it was easier said than done when your body craved the delectable friction he gave your needy clit.

“No,” He growled, “Fuck—”

The word tumbled from Bakugou��s lips as a desperate groan, your palm pressed against his sternum as he’s certain you can feel the swift thud of his heartbeat. As if you’re controlling it’s pace while your pretty whines are like music to his ears, a sound that has his cock throbbing desperately between his thighs. Everything feels so new, and yet he’s certain he’ll never tire of the sensation as your hips press down harder against his bulge.

“Katsuki.” The one word that seals his death sentence, the sultry lilt to your tone has him throwing his head back to rest against the couch as his hips jerk beneath you. Pushing his throbbing cock into your clothed cunt as he feels the heat radiating from you, crimson eyes rolling back as he feels it.

That sweet release that he’s been craving wracks through him in harsh waves, the euphoria inexplicable as for the first time he allows it to take over. Each muscle in his body relaxing as the pleasure consumes him whole, raspy groans tumble from deep in his chest as you pull back to stare at his face.

“Did you just—?” You smile, your fruity gloss smeared against his lips and cheek as the words finally have Bakugou crashing back down to earth.

“Shit.” He grunts, as the shameful reality begins to permeate his body, “I’m fuckin’ sorry, alright. I didn’t—“

What was he even supposed to say? He just came in his pants like a fucking teenager.

“I’ve never—”

“It’s not a big deal,” You smile, soft hands sliding up his body to stroke against his shoulders, “It’s kinda hot actually.”

It’s easy for you to say when you can’t feel the effects— his hot spend leaks from his engorged tip, his boxers stick to his skin uncomfortably as his release mattes in his trimmed pubic hair.

“Sorry,” He grumbles as you press a final lingering kiss to his cheek before starting to climb off his lap.

Embarrassment continues to seep through his body, feeling a heat rise to his cheeks as he prepares more apologies. Missing the closeness of you already, your warm hips in his hands as your body fits snug against him. He’s fucked it up this time—

But imagine his surprise when your knees nudge against his to spread his thick muscular thighs, dropping your body between them as you stare up at him with mirth.

“What’s so funny?” He almost snarls, the shame overpowers any other emotions as he prepares to stand up to excuse himself from the whole situation.

“Nothing,” Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you reach up to begin unbuckling the heavy belt he wears, “You have no idea how hot that was, do you?”

“What?” He frowns as his muscles stiffen when you unbuckle his belt and begin to pop his zipper, unable to stop the groan from slipping between parted lips when the metal grazes his softening bulge.

“You made such a mess, Katsuki.” You coo, the fabric of his boxers a dark grey from his spend as you press your thumb against it.

Baku you sucks a sharp breath through gritted teeth when your fingers slip beneath the hem, tugging them down to settle around his throbbing balls as you discover the mess he made. The mess that’s your fault, if anyone were to ask. The wet fabric tacks to his sticky skin as you peel it back, the air in the room hits wet skin as his release begins to dry.

“What’re ya doin’?” He mumbles, sliding a large palm along the length of his face to shield his eyes. As though that’ll stop the shame that still floods his body, the reality that he’s still an inexperienced virgin.

“Is this okay?” You answer his question with another one, leaning forward as your breath fans against his skin.

“Fuck—” He grunts, “Yeah— I—”

The question falls apart the moment you lean forward to lick a long, languid stripe against the underside of his semi-hard cock. Following the silvery streaks of his release as you taste the sharpness on your tongue, hips jerking when your tongue reaches his frenulum.

You can feel Bakugou getting hard again, heavy balls throb as your lips wrap around the blushing head, the tip of your tongue prods against his slit as you lap at the beads of cum that continue to ooze out of him. Wrapping a warm palm around his sticky length as you stroke him back to life, strong thighs squeeze your shoulders as you pull more delicious sounds from his throat.

Bakugou’s mind is hazy, uncertain that he can even cum again after the mind numbing climax he’d just experienced, but you’ve already made his mind up for him. Fingers circle around the base as your palm presses against his pubic bone, taking him deeper as his tip hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He rasps, calloused hands ball into fists as blunt nails dig into his palms, “Is this what they’re callin’ coffee now’a days.”

“You don’t seem to be complaining, Katsuki.” You coo.

He’s already pent up as he tries to think of anything else to stop him from coming undone quite so fast this time. But it’s near impossible with the way your glossy lips feel wrapped around his cock, your tongue tracing the prominent veins that bulge along the underside as he bucks into your mouth.

A low hum vibrates in your throat as you take him deeper, teasing his balls with your fingers as you feel him begin to stiffen. His chest heaving with rough, labored breaths as you stare up at him from beneath thick lashes. Tempting him to give you all he’s got to give.

You subtly rub your thighs together for some kind of relief as your clit throbs beneath your soaked panties, imagining how the sheer size of him would fill you up and stretch you out. Imagining the delicious ache when he finally slides into your tight, wet heat.

Bakugou can already feel himself teetering on the edge of another climax. His fist no comparison to the way your warm, soft lips feel around his cock. Certain he’ll never be able to cum again without you, no way to scratch that itch without feeling you like this between his thighs.

“I’m gonna— fuck,” He groans.

A soft stroke of your thumb against his taint is all it takes to have him soaring into his release, his hips bucking wildly off the couch as he forces himself inside your mouth to the hilt. The neatly trimmed hairs at the base of his cock tickle your nose as the throbbing tip hits the back of your throat as he comes undone.

Catching his mess in your mouth as ropes of his warm spend begin to spurt from his thick cock. The desperate grunts that rumble deep in his chest do nothing to satiate the desire that brews inside you as you taste him on your tongue, taking everything he’s got to give you as you move up to circle the pink tip. Claiming the last few pearls of milky cum as Bakugou’s large palms move to the back of your head to pull you off his oversensitive cock.

“What was that?” He rasps hoarsely as you press a final, lingering kiss to the underside of his cock. The heavy weight of it lays flat against his crotch as you lean your cheek against his thigh, smiling up at him as you lick your lips in satisfaction.

“I was cleaning up the mess you made,” You tease, reaching up to playfully squeeze his balls. But this time Bakugou is quicker, his hand catches your wrist before you make contact has he frowns down at you from half-lidded eyes.

“That was all your fault.” He murmurs, the embarrassment still ebbs at the back of his mind as he’s reminded painfully how much of a virgin he still is. Certain that if that’s how your mouth felt, he wouldn’t last thirty seconds plunging into your tight cunt.

“My fault?” You part your lips in mock surprise, “You made a mess of me too, you know. You should be the one cleaning me up.”

“What?” He certainly didn’t do anything. Sitting back on the couch as he allowed you to use him as you so pleased.

“Yeah,” Your lips curled into a mischievous smirk, slipping your legs from beneath you as you spread your thighs on the ground between him. Your skirt riding up from the position as you gave Bakugou a show of your lacy panties, already feeling your slick staining the material, “You wanna see?”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut

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verstawppen · 8 months ago

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hold me close (cl16)

BLURB (1.2k words)

verstawppen writes: something short and sweet for yall. enjoy!

summary: you comfort Charles after a bad Quali warnings: none. fem!reader, F1 journalist!reader, fluff, comfort, established relationship, secret relationship.

The day was going by at an excruciatingly slow pace, every time you checked your lock screen it seemed only a minute had passed. You sighed in exasperation as the press conference stretched on well past the scheduled timings. You could see the exhaustion on Yuk and Daniel’s faces even from your position at the back and you knew they were dying to get back to their hotel rooms for a day of rest. But here they were, stuck in the media pen answering pointed questions about their Qualifying. And you were stuck too. You’d already done your duties and compiled all the responses from your interviews with the drivers for your tabloid. You were itching to get back to your hotel room. To get back to Charles. He’d had a bad Qualifying, just as he began his fastest lap of Quali, his gearbox began malfunctioning and Ferrari had to retire the car. He was visibly frustrated when he came back to the Ferrari garage. He just wanted to have a good race for once this season without facing any issues with his car and you felt that he deserved that, being one of the best drivers on the grid. Ever since you’d seen him leaving the garage, running his hands through his damp hair, something he only did when he was being consumed with anxiety, you’d wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and soothe his uneased mind. You were his girlfriend, you should have been there for him. But it wasn’t that easy, you knew the implications it would have on both your careers, more on his than yours, to be seen together. An F1 journalist and Ferrari’s golden boy. The media would have a field day, you would know. A brief buzz from the pocket of your trousers brought you out of your thoughts-

Charles <3 When are you coming back?? I miss you :( You I’m so sorry Cha the conference is running past the schedule. I’m stuck here Charles <3 Want me to come rescue you, cherie? You No it’s alright, love. Try to rest until I come back, you’ve had a long day. When Charles didn’t respond after 15 minutes, you presumed he’d taken your advice and had gone to sleep. You felt guilt churn in your stomach. Charles was always there to take care of you after a long day despite his own exhausting profession. He was an absolute sweetheart, showering you with kisses as soon as you came back to him in his motorhome or his hotel room, sitting you down on his bed before taking off your heels for you, nimble fingers massaging your sore, tender feet.

‘Fuck this’ you thought to yourself. “Hey I think I’m gonna leave early”, you informed your colleague sitting beside you. You were friends and you’d told her about you and Charles. She nodded in understanding, “Go, I’ll cover for you.” You got up from your seat, shooting her a grateful smile as you gathered your things and left the media pen. You called yourself a cab to the hotel where Charles and you were staying. The ride felt longer than when you’d arrived at the paddock in the morning, excited to see Charles race. You rubbed your temple, your concern for Charles growing by the minute.

You practically fell out of the cab when you opened the door in a hurry even before the car had fully stopped. You quickly paid the driver and ran up the steps of the hotel entrance. The cool air of the hotel lobby cooled your skin which had gathered a thin layer of sweat from your rushed movements and increasing stress. You impatiently waited for the elevator and immediately pressed your floor number once you were inside.

The elevator opened with a ding and soon you were standing in front of Charles’s hotel room fishing around with one hand for the keycard he’d given you while your other hand held your suit jacket and your bag. You scanned the card and opened the door. You tried to be as quiet as possible and closed the door behind you with a soft click. You removed your heels, set them down on the shoe rack and deposited your stuff onto a countertop near the room’s entrance. But maybe your movements weren’t as discreet as you thought because as soon as the bed came into view, you saw Charles had woken up, sleepily rubbing his eyes. He let out a silent yawn but as soon as his eyes fell on you, his face lit up. He sat upright, a wide grin on his face which you mirrored. You quickly made your way over to his side of the bed and sat down in front of him, feeling his hands wrap themselves around your frame. He was wearing a black hoodie, his favourite one which you liked to steal sometimes. You buried your in his neck, he smelled of aftershave and his characteristic slightly musky cologne. You held him close, your fingers clutching onto his hoodie. His chin rested atop your head, his left hand tracing abstract circles on your back. It was everything you both needed. You pulled away and looked up into his sparkling green orbs. “Hi, love” “Hi, cherie” Even though he’d been calling you ‘cherie’ for more than 2 years now, the nickname never failed to awaken the butterflies in your stomach. Your hands reached to cup his face, thumb lightly stroking his cheekbone. “How are you?”, you asked. From this proximity, you could see the dark circles forming under his mesmerising eyes, a detail that the cameras thankfully never seemed to capture. And it was good, you knew Charles would hate for the world to think that he wasn’t able to take the heat. But at the end of the day, he was only human. He smiled before replying to you, his voice slightly raspy from having just woken up,” I’m good now that you’re here, mon amour.” Your hands moved from his face into his curled locks and he relished the feeling of your fingers lightly massaging his scalp, making waves of comfort and relief wash all over his tired body as his head found its resting place on your collarbone, lightly taking in the scent of your sweet floral perfume. He unconsciously smiled against your neck. Carding your fingers through his hair just the way you knew he liked, you spoke to him in a low, comforting sort of voice, “You did so well today, Charles. You almost had the fastest lap of the Quali despite having to work with such a difficult car. You got the best you could out of that car and that’s enough for now. Things will get better, Ferrari is working on the issue, right? You’ll soon have a car worthy of your talent and you’ll be back on the podium in no time, love.” He hummed in acknowledgement of your encouraging words. It meant a lot to him, more than you’d ever know. He pressed a small kiss to your collarbone in appreciation. “Thank you, ma cherie” You smiled, your eyes closing to relish the warmth of his presence in your embrace. “Anytime, Cha”

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autumn-foxfire · 21 days ago

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I bitch a lot about the bad writing for the women but I assure you the feelings are mutual for the men.

Shinichi and Kaito's misogyny and sexism are something is find incredibly painful about their characters and there are actions committed by the both of them that I would never forgive if they weren't fictional characters.

For Kaito it's how he harrasses Aoko. The skirt flipping and sharing the colour of her panties is awful and I don't care if it's a "product of it's time" as it should have NEVER been a product of its time. And the anime has been remade twice and both times they include him doing this to her. And with Gosho making the movies canon too, which we see with him including more and more movie things into the series, that means him trying to grope Ran was also canon...

For Shinichi his treatment of Ran is beyond gross but there is a thing he's done that is just as gross as Kaito's behaviour and that's trying to keep a picture of a sexual nature (Ran's boobs taken without and then given to him without her permission) that she asked him to delete and he tried to save it instead. That is unforgivable and when I saw that in the anime I was beyond creeped out. He has also tried to get into the bath with Ran again, but this time on purpose knowing that it would be wrong to do so.

There are probably more instances with the two of them but these are the ones at the top of my head.

Now I am completely aware these are tropes meant to be funny in nature but as a woman I can't find them funny. They make me feel gross. How the author writes and treats women in his series is beyond appalling to be honest, but this is the standard for many anime and manga too, and he's not the only one doing so.

You're probably thinking "if she's so disgusted why does she keep consuming the series?" and I don't blame you for thinking that way, but I'm just being critical of a piece of media that I otherwise enjoy a lot and if I stopped consuming stuff I had problems with I would end up with nothing to enjoy because everything has problems. I just want to vent my feelings in my personal blog about how frustrated I am with the writing of these characters at times.

#dcmk #dcmk critical #foxy rants #sorry for the negativity #I just needed to get this off my chest

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laurenairay · 1 month ago

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what harm could come from one little call - N. MacKinnon

Summary: Can a drunken phone call repair a pair of broken hearts? Nathan certainly hopes so. Megan isn't so sure.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: drunk Nate, exes to lovers, mild angst, some bad language

A/N: This is my entry for @wyattjohnston’s winter fic exchange 2k25 for @blueskrugs! Cait, it was a joy to write for you. I had so much fun using Old Dominion as inspiration – they’re one of my favourite bands and I’ve been fortunate enough to see them 5 times, so this was special for me! I hope I included everything you asked for that we discussed. I hope you enjoy this!

Title from Break Up With Him, by Old Dominion

“Hey Megan, what’s up?”

Of all the things for her ex-boyfriend to lead with, after not speaking to her for 6 months, that was it? Casual and cool, like nothing had ever happened? And on New Year’s Eve?

Megan was just glad she’d moved away from her group of friends to answer his call. They weren’t exactly his biggest fans any more, and she knew they would absolutely judge her for giving him the time of day, even if it was just standing in the slightly-quieter corridor by the bar bathrooms.

“Nate, are you drunk?” she asked dryly.

“Naw, I ain't drunk.”

Yeah okay. She hummed, voicing her disbelief, and Nate huffed out a laugh.

“Okay, maybe I do have a little buzz, but that song we danced to in my kitchen came on and I just thought what harm could come from one little call?”

What the hell.

What the actual hell.

“You’re drinking at home. Alone? And you’re calling me out of the blue,” she summarised, unimpressed.

“I missed you, Meg. I’ve missed you every day since we broke up and I had to let you know.”

The rasp in his voice sent shivers down her spine, just like it always had. But this time, he had no right to try seducing her. She wasn’t his to seduce any more.

“We’re nearly 30, Nate. What the hell are you doing, acting like a lovesick teenager? You’re the one who broke up with me, remember?” Megan said, frustrated at the nerve of the man she once thought she had a future with.

“It was a mutual break up.”

This fucking guy.

“You instigated it,” she reminded him.

Nate let out an irritated huff of breath

“I know you don’t love him.”

“What the fuck Nathan,” she hissed.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I know you don’t love him. This new guy that you’ve been putting all over your social media, whatever his fucking name is. You should tell him that it’s over and then come over to mine. You ain’t in love with him, break up with him.”

What the fuck. How dare he?

“Greg is a good guy. You don’t know the first thing about him.”

“Yeah okay, but I know you, Megan. You don’t want to hurt him, but you’re stringing him along. Not wanting to break his heart isn’t a good enough reason for keeping us apart.”

Her jaw dropped slightly at the unmitigated gall, and she shook her head furiously, even though he couldn’t see her.

“You’ve crossed the line Nate. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but you have no right to talk to me like this,” Megan said angrily.

Her heart was racing, hands shaking at his audacity. How could he do this to her? On New Year’s Eve when she was out with her friends? When they hadn’t been in each other’s lives since the Spring?

But Nate just laughed softly, infuriating her more.

“You would've hung up by now if you weren't thinking it too. If you didn’t know there was truth to my words. But no pressure, whatever. Just do what you gotta do.”

“You are such an asshole,” Megan hissed, tears stinging at her eyes.

“Yeah, I am. But you still love me anyway. Call me when you’ve broken up with him. Happy New Year, Megan.”

And with that, he ended the call. Megan stood still, in shock, not fully believing what had just happened. What had just happened? Nathan had called her out of the blue, drunk and seductive, telling her to break up with her new boyfriend…so that she could get back together with him?

What the fuck?

Maybe it was the alcohol she’d consumed herself, or maybe it really was the shock of Nathan contacting her after so long with such bold declarations, but her mind was whirling. Whirling and swirling, tempestuous as a typhoon, all because of a man she’d tried so hard to forget. How was she supposed to process this?

“Hey, babe, everything okay?”

Megan jolted at the feeling of a large hand on her shoulder, looking sharply up to see her boyfriend Greg looking down at her with concern. Greg was a sweet softly-spoken man, a gentle giant and true protector, and yet seeing him right now didn’t give her any comfort at all.

“Woah, you look upset. What’s wrong?” he asked.

As if she could tell him the truth.

“Just a phone call I didn’t expect,” she said, forcing a smile on her face.

“Are you sure?” Greg asked, still frowning, “Did you want to leave? We can go if you need to.”

He didn’t deserve any of this. What the fuck did Nate know anyway?

“No, it’s fine. Let’s get back to the group,” she said, shaking her head.

Nate’s words kept ringing through her head as they walked back through the bar to their booth, and the moment she sat down Megan reached for the first drink she could to drown them out.

“I know you don’t love him.”

“You’re stringing him along.”

“Not wanting to break his heart isn’t a good enough reason for keeping us apart.”

The first morning coffee of 2025 was nowhere near as good as the last espresso martini of 2024. Megan could admit that much to herself as she forced down a couple of slices of toast. Even a steaming shower and skin care routine hadn’t brightened up the start of the new year, and in her fragile state she could only think of one person to blame.

Nathan MacKinnon. The ex-boyfriend that had suddenly decided not to quit.

Of all of his many wonderful qualities, his timing was usually impeccable, on and off the ice. But last night had been the worst timing she could’ve ever imagined, and right now she didn’t know what the hell to do. Nate really had thrown her for a loop, and despite his demand for her to call him, it felt like the last thing she wanted to do.

Happy new year to her. Not.

But as she finished her second cup of coffee, it seemed like Nate had decided for her, as her phone started ringing with his name as Caller ID.

“You didn’t call me.”

“It’s barely been 12 hours, Nate. What did you expect? For me to just come running into your arms?”

“Yes.”

“Oh fuck you,” she groaned.

That cocky attitude shouldn’t be nearly as attractive as it was. She didn’t need to see his face to know that he was smirking right now.

“That’s the Megan I know.”

“You know how rude it was last night, right? Rude and uncalled for and totally out of line?” she pointed out.

“Maybe. But I don’t regret it, even if I needed whisky to build up the courage.”

The nonchalance was infuriating.

“Pretty pathetic getting drunk on your own just to call up your ex, Nathan,” she said sharply.

“Ouch, thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome, sad sack,” she shot back.

But Nate just laughed, that deep belly laugh that was so rare but so incredible to hear. Fuck. This is not how she thought her year would start.

“I miss you.”

That voice. His deep rumble sent shivers down her spine again, just like it had last night. Fuck.

“I miss you too,” she found herself saying softly.

The hitch in his breath let her know she’d said the right thing.

“You do?”

“I always have done, Nate. Even though you didn’t deserve it, breaking up with me after two years because you wanted to be able to focus on playoffs,” she said, voice cracking slightly.

The way he swore under his breath made her sigh.

“I was an idiot. Such an idiot. Still am, but at least I’m aware of it now. And I’m trying to be better. I want to be better.”

“Nathan…”

Her voice trailed off, not knowing what else to say. What could she say, when he was finally self aware?

“Break up with him, Megan, please. Give me another chance.”

It was now or never. As much as it pained her to admit to it all, she had to be honest.

“I already did.”

“What?”

“I broke up with him when we left the bar last night. I just…you screwed with my head Nate, so badly, and after your call it was all I could think about. I couldn’t get your words out of my head and I knew that no matter what, this was a death sentence for me and Greg. It’s over with him. Because of you, I cried on New Year’s Eve.”

Nate swore again.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Megan couldn’t stop the laugh that choked out of her throat, thick with emotion and mildly hysterical.

“You never did, hm? And yet I’ve cried over you more than any other guy,” she reminded him.

“That…fuck, I don’t want to be that guy.”

“Bit late for that,” Megan said, sniffing.

“Let me make it up to you.”

His firm words shocked her, and yet they didn’t shock her at all. This was typical Nathan, swooping in with grand gestures to save the day when he shouldn’t have needed to fix what he broke in the first place. He was a mess. He made her a mess. And yet, talking to him last night and right now were the first times she’d felt truly alive since he’d broken up with her. How could she deny what she felt?

Where her light brown hair had been curled last night, it was in tousled waves now, and her grey-blue eyes were shadowed by lack of sleep as well as still being a little bloodshot from the crying. She looked far from her best, especially when it came to seeing Nate, but he deserved to see what he’d done to her.

Fuck it. She missed him and he missed her. How often did people get a second chance with the person they loved?

“Come over,” Megan murmured.

“I’m already on my way.”

#my writing #nathan mackinnon fic #the winter fic exchange 2k25 #nathan mackinnon x oc #nathan mackinnon fanfic #nathan mackinnon imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #hockey imagine

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yoursinisforgiven · 2 months ago

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EUPHORIC ──

pairing: asriel x reader (pet)

cw: smut, light blood play, pwp, afab reader (sorry :c), reader experiences an animalistic heat(?), master–servant relationship, sub reader (pet), oral (male receiving), vaginal fingering(so i suppose it could be replaced with whatever you have down there, and still be read by anyone??), choking, nonconsensual use of drugs.

you are responsible for your own media consumption

This must be what dying feels like—at the hands of a mortal, no less.

You had been burning, searing with an intensity that could only be described as hell itself. Asriel—that snake—only stoked the fire, insisting on keeping his manor oppressively warm.

“You’re a vampire; I doubt the temperature of a home will bother you. I’m afraid you’ve grown spoiled,” he’d said. His words, laced with arrogance, weren’t meant maliciously—but they cut all the same. They reminded you of him, the man Asriel had promised—sworn—he was nothing like.

Perhaps that’s what had driven you to lash out, the simmering pressure of your own body urging you toward violence, toward release. But instead, you’d been drugged, locked away in your room. Punishment, a well-deserved one, according to Asriel.

You could break down the door, escape through the window, kill him—but you wouldn’t. The haze in your mind told you it would pass. You didn’t want to, couldn’t bear the consequences of further disobedience. Not when it would only lead to greater punishment, and killing him would— You shake your head, the thought clawing at you. You couldn’t let it take over.

The hunger gnaws at you, deeper than thirst or the usual craving for blood. Something darker and more primal. It is a fevered pull, an ache you cannot ignore. You almost taste it in the air, thick and suffocating, an emptiness that gnaws at the core of you. It is unbearable.

Your breath quickens, shallow, erratic, as your tongue darts out in vain, seeking any relief. But the heat inside you only rises. The room around you tilts, spinning, the walls narrowing in like a trap. His scent—his warmth—lingers in the air, heavy, intoxicating. It fills your lungs, makes your blood burn hotter.

It’s more than hunger now. It’s a need. A primal urge so consuming, it strips away any semblance of control. You want to tear through the walls, through him, to make him feel this desperation. You want to make him see what you are, what you’ve become, to make him burn like you do.

But you stop yourself. You cannot. You are not an animal. You are more than this—more than the beast your instincts call you to be.

You glance at the mirror, hoping for a glimpse of yourself—of who you should be—but instead, the reflection mocks you. Eyes dark with lust and hunger, fangs—long, sharp, gleaming—aching to pierce flesh, to taste. To possess. The heat surges again, and you let out a soft, guttural moan—a sound born of frustration and something darker, deeper. A sound you hadn’t known you could make.

The door. The window. The room itself—they no longer matter. Only he does. His scent, his presence, his warmth—everything inside you screams for him. You can feel him, even when he is not here. It is maddening. It is suffocating.

And somewhere in the back of your mind, a quiet voice whispers, Give in. The heat within you rises, a fevered madness. It isn’t just lust. It is something darker, a perverse mockery of the sacred. Your body, a temple of corruption, aches to defile—to take. You are not a servant of God. You are a servant to this hunger, this insatiable, dark craving. A prayer to no deity but yourself.

In your mind, Asriel stands before you—his face a blur, yet his presence real—Adam to your Eve, tempting you with the forbidden. And you know that to give in to this heat, to taste what your body demands, will bring ruin. You know it. And yet, you ache for it. You yearn for it. The weakness, the vulnerability, the humanity of it—it is pathetic. And it is yours.

Your hand trembles as you reach for the vase on the small table beside you. With all the strength you can muster, you grip it, and in a violent motion, hurl it against the wall. The crash shatters the silence, a desperate plea, a prayer for Asriel’s attention.

There is a pause, as if the world holds its breath. For a moment, you can hear your own heartbeat, thumping in your ears like a drum of war. Then, the sound of footsteps—slow, deliberate, with a heavy sense of purpose. Not hurried, but unhurried, as though he already knows what awaits him. You know them, those steps, as familiar to you as your own breath. You have memorized the cadence of them long ago.

Your pulse quickens at the sound, the anticipation thickening the air. The hunger inside you flares, spreading like wildfire, igniting a pool of desire deep within you. It pools, warm and slick, as you feel him get closer. You can smell him now, the musk of his cologne, the faint heat of his skin—he is almost here.

Your body trembles, not with fear, but with a desperate, primal need. It’s not just hunger. It’s the craving, the need for him. And you feel it all, overwhelming, uncontrollable.

---

The door creaks, a soft sound, almost insignificant in its quiet intrusion—but it is enough to set your heart racing. Every fiber of your being seems to stretch toward it, anticipating the arrival of the one person who could both quell and ignite the fire within you. Asriel.

The handle turns.

The door opens just enough for him to step through, and his presence fills the room like a storm breaking after a long drought. He stands in the threshold, framed by the dim light of the hallway, his shadow stretching into the room like a dark promise.

Your breath catches, a stifled gasp caught in your throat. The heat inside you surges to new heights, a tidal wave crashing against the walls of your restraint. Your hands grip the sheets beneath you, nails digging into the fabric, as if trying to anchor yourself in a world that is slipping further out of control.

Asriel doesn’t speak immediately. He stands there, observing you with a quiet intensity, his gaze unwavering. His eyes flicker over you, from the way your body trembles, to the dark hunger clouding your expression, then to the broken vase—the small chip the impact left in the wall. He can smell it—feel it, too—the raw need, the desperation that swells in the air between you.

The silence between you is thick, laden with unspoken tension, like a storm hanging in the sky, waiting to break. The space between you feels vast, but with each passing second, it shrinks, until it feels like you are both caught in the pull of something inevitable.

Finally, Asriel steps forward, his footsteps measured, deliberate. His proximity makes the air feel tighter, suffocating. The hunger that claws at you becomes unbearable, a pulse that courses through your veins, louder and louder.

He stops just beside the bed, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body radiating against your skin. You want to scream, to beg him to close the distance completely, to take control of the madness inside you, to relieve the aching need that threatens to consume you whole. But something—pride? Fear? A faint sense of control—keeps you silent, watching him through half-lidded eyes, your lips parted in an almost silent plea.

Asriel studies you for a moment, his gaze cool, calculating, yet there is something else beneath it. Something familiar. Something that tells you, deep down, he understands this—understands you—more than you wish he did.

"You know," he begins, his voice low, a soft rasp that shivers through you like a cool breeze on a hot night. "I could stop this. I could make it all go away with a word, a touch." His eyes flicker down to where your body is trembling, betraying you, revealing the desperate need coursing through you. "But you have to ask, don’t you?"

You open your mouth, but the words are caught, lost in the intensity of the moment. Your body, your mind—everything inside you screams for him, but you cannot bring yourself to speak the words that will make it real. That would make you weak. Subjugated. You are still holding on to something, some last thread of defiance. But it is slipping away with every passing second, every breath you take.

Asriel chuckles softly, the sound dark and knowing. He leans in closer, so close you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin. You shudder involuntarily, your entire body tightening, the ache deep within you flaring painfully.

"Perhaps you’ve forgotten," he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear just enough for you to feel the press of his words against your skin. "This is your choice. You decide when this ends."

The tension crackles, the air thick with anticipation. His hand lifts, hovering just above your skin, waiting, as though daring you to pull away. But you don’t. You can’t. You want this. You need this.

With trembling fingers, you reach for him, your hand shaking as you place it against his chest. His heart beats beneath your palm—steady, unyielding. A silent reminder of the mortal world you can never truly belong to.

"You want me," he says, almost more a statement than a question, his eyes darkening with something far more dangerous than mere curiosity. "But you’re still afraid." Afraid? No. You’re not afraid. Not anymore. But you are conflicted. The hunger, the primal need, It is all you have left to hold onto, and it screams for release. But you, you are fighting to stay who you are, to maintain what little control you have left.

With a sharp, almost cruel motion, Asriel grips your wrist, his hand much stronger than yours. He pulls you closer, until your faces are mere inches apart, his breath mingling with yours in a heady dance of warmth and need.

You can feel the weight of his presence pressing in, suffocating, but you welcome it. You crave it. "Say it," he whispers, his voice a low, tantalizing promise. "Say what you want, and I will give it to you." The temptation is almost too much.

Everything inside you screams for him, for the release only he can provide. For the answers. For the end of the torment. You swallow, the words thick on your tongue, unwilling to be spoken. But they are there, so close—your throat tightens, and you hear your own voice crack under the strain.

And then, without realizing it, you say it—rather whining it, a plea, a beg.

“Please.”

As you surrender to the overwhelming desire consuming you, Asriel's grip on your wrist tightens, a silent acknowledgment of your submission. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your lower lip in a gesture that is both tender and possessive.

"Good pet," he murmurs, his voice low and husky with desire.

Asriel's mouth claims yours in a searing kiss, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, demanding entrance. You grant it willingly, your tongue tangling with his in a dance as old as time itself. He tastes of sin and salvation, of everything you crave and everything you fear. thinking purely on instinct you bite his lip—savoring the blood.

The coppery taste of Asriel's blood floods your senses, igniting the primal hunger within you. His groan of pleasure-pain sends shivers down your spine, stoking the fire burning within your veins. With a growl, you deepen the kiss, your tongue delving into his mouth to lap at the crimson nectar. Asriel lips curve into a wicked grin as he tastes his own blood on your tongue, he breaks the kiss–leaving you breathless and wanting. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire. "Strip," he commands, his voice rough with need. "I want to see you."

You obey without hesitation, your hands shaking as you tug at your clothes. The fabric feels restrictive, too tight against your heated skin. You shed each layer with desperate haste, until you are bared before him, exposed in every way that matters.

Asriel's gaze rakes over you, a slow perusal that feels like a physical touch. "Beautiful," he breathes, his voice filled with awe and hunger. "So perfect."

He reaches out, his fingers tracing the curve of your breast, circling your nipple until it pebbles under his touch. You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily. The ache between your thighs is a persistent throb, a need that demands satisfaction.

Asriel's hand trails lower, over your stomach, your hip, until he cups your sex through your panties.

"Such a greedy little thing," he murmurs, his hand tightening its grip on your sex. "So hungry for me."

You whimper in response, your hips grinding against his palm, seeking more of that delicious friction. The heat within you is a raging inferno, consuming every rational thought. All you can focus on is the ache between your thighs, the need for him to fill you, to claim you, to make you his.

At your reaction Asriel's fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, pushing the fabric aside. He groans as he feels your wetness, your body's eager response to his touch. "So wet for me already," he growls, his thumb circling your clit in maddeningly slow strokes. "Such a good pet, aren't you?"

You cry out allowing your body to completely become limp as you fall back against the bed. Your body is a live wire, every nerve ending alight with sensation. You can feel the heat building within you, coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

Asriel's fingers delve deeper, plunging into your slick heat. He pumps them in and out, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes you see stars. Your walls clench around him, drawing him in, desperate for more.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice a low, seductive purr. "Take what you need. Let go."

His words are your undoing. With a keening cry, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Wave after wave of ecstasy washes through you, leaving you gasping and trembling in its wake.

But Asriel isn't done with you yet. He withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips. He licks them clean, savoring your essence with an appreciative moan. "Delicious," he purrs, his eyes dark with hunger. "But I'm not nearly finished with you yet”

Asriel, once a man you had sworn to defy, now stands before you like a god, his presence suffocating, consuming. You had once seen yourself as untouchable, beyond the mortal realm. But now, you kneel before him, not in body, but in mind, your heart a vessel for his will. You crave him—not just as a lover or a predator, but as a deity.

His eyes, dark and knowing, pierce you, and you know—he owns you. He is the flame that consumes your soul, the blood that fills your veins, the cross you both worship and burn under. His touch is salvation and damnation, both tender and cruel.

You are not a creature of the night anymore. You are his. His vessel. His servant. His worshiper. You had forsaken every god to follow him, to surrender to the hunger he stirs inside you.

In this surrender, you realize: you are nothing without him. You are empty, aching, hollow—until he fills you and when his lips brush against your skin, when his hands take control, you know the truth: You are his, and he is your god. You want this. You need this.

With his touch, you are finally free.

The scent of blood, of sex, of dominance—it all blends together, a heady cocktail that makes your head spin. As you submit to the overwhelming desire consuming you, Asriel's grip on your wrist tightens, a silent acknowledgment of your surrender. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your lower lip in a gesture that is both tender and possessive.

"You can listen—obey, so well when you want to." he murmurs, his voice low and husky with desire.

His words send a shiver down your spine, a thrill of anticipation mixed with a hint of fear. You know what comes next, what he will demand of you. But you are powerless to resist, consumed by the heat that burns through your veins.

Asriel leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "Now it's time to fulfill your purpose. To serve me, as you were always meant to."

His words are a command, a promise, and a threat all rolled into one. You can feel the weight of his expectations pressing down on you, the demand for obedience and submission. But it is also a relief, a release from the burden of choice, of control.

You nod, a small, submissive gesture, your eyes lowered in deference to him. "Yes, Master," you whisper, the words foreign on your tongue but somehow right.

Asriel's hand slides down from your cheek to your neck, his fingers wrapping around your throat in a gentle but firm grip. He applies just enough pressure to remind you of your place, your vulnerability in his grasp.

"Good pet," he praises, his voice a dark purr. "Now, let's begin your training, shall we?"

His touch is electric, sending sparks of pleasure and pain racing through your nerves. You arch into his grasp, a silent plea for more, for everything he has to offer.

Asriel chuckles, the sound rich and dark with promise. "So eager. So desperate for my touch." His hand slides lower, tracing the curve of your collarbone, your shoulder, your arm. "But we have all night, my pet. And I intend to take my time with you."

His words are a tease,

Asriel's touch is a brand, searing your skin with his possession. You can feel every inch of your body coming alive under his ministrations, every nerve ending screaming for more. His hands explore you with a thoroughness that is almost clinical, mapping out every dip and curve of your body as if committing it to memory.

You squirm under his touch, torn between the desire to arch into his hands and the need to flee from the intensity of sensation. But there is nowhere to run, no escape from the web of desire he has spun around you.

"Be still," Asriel commands, his voice brooking no argument. His hand comes up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You belong to me now, body and soul. There is no escaping what you have become."

His words are a sentence, a condemnation, and yet they fill you with a perverse sense of pride. To be chosen, to be desired so completely—it is a heady feeling, intoxicating in its extremity.

Asriel's mouth finds yours in a kiss that is brutal in its passion, his teeth nipping at your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. You taste the coppery tang of it on your tongue, a reminder of the pain that is so intricately woven with the pleasure.

He breaks away abruptly, leaving you gasping for breath, your lips swollen and sensitive. "On your knees," he orders, his voice harsh with command.

You obey without hesitation, sinking to the floor before him. The hard wood digs into your knees, a physical reminder of your submission, your place beneath him.

Asriel's eyes glitter with sadistic delight as he gazes down at you, his lips curling into a cruel smile. He reaches out, his fingers tangling in your hair, gripping it tightly enough to make you wince."You learn quickly.", his voice a low, approving rumble.

With his free hand, he unfastens his pants, the sound of the zipper echoing in the charged silence of the room. Your breath catches in your throat as he frees his erection, the thick length of it jutting out, hard and ready.

"Open your mouth," he commands, his voice rough with need. "Show me how grateful you are for my attention."

You part your lips obediently, your tongue darting out to wet them in anticipation. Asriel's grip on your hair tightens, guiding your head forward until the tip of his cock brushes against your lips.

"Use your tongue," he instructs, his voice a low growl.

You comply, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, tasting the salty-bitter flavor of his skin. Asriel hisses in pleasure, his hips jerking forward slightly, seeking more of your ministrations.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice thick with desire. "Take me deeper. Show me how much you want to please me."

You obey, your lips stretching around his girth, your jaw aching from the effort of taking him so deep. Asriel's grip on your hair tightens, holding you in place as he begins to thrust, fucking your mouth with shallow strokes.

"Watch the fangs," he hisses, his voice low but laced with warning, as he tightens his grip on your hair even further. The taste of him fills your mouth, the musky scent of his arousal flooding your senses. You can feel the pulse of his heartbeat through his cock, the evidence of his desire for you. It is intoxicating, addictive, a drug that consumes you utterly.

Asriel's pace increases, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more demanding. Your eyes water from the sheer size of him, your throat constricting around his length. But you don't resist, don't try to pull away.

The sound of the knocking at the door pierces the haze of lust that surrounds us, sharp and unwelcome. Asriel’s eyes narrow, a flash of irritation flickering across his features before he quickly regains his composure. His expression smooths into one of cool indifference, as if the interruption is nothing more than a fleeting inconvenience.

“What is it?” His voice is firm, carrying the weight of authority with every syllable.

The staff member at the door hesitates for a moment, then clears his throat. "You—You have a client waiting for you, Mr. Rhodes, I believe it was."

Asriel exhales a soft sigh, his frustration palpable but fleeting. He looks down at you then, his gaze heavy, lingering for just a moment as if weighing whether to continue or dismiss everything else for the sake of what you shared. But then, the mask falls back into place, the indifference settling over him like a cloak.

"It seems our time together must be cut short," his voice a low rumble as he pulls out of your mouth, his cock slick with your saliva. He releases his grip on your hair, allowing you to sit back on your heels, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. Asriel stands, tucking himself back into his pants and straightening his clothes with efficient movements.

"Stay here," Asriel commands, his voice sharp and final, slicing through the heavy air between you. There is no space for argument, no room for rebellion. "I will return for you later. Consider it a reward for your good behavior today."

His words, though commanding, ignite something deeper in you—an ache, an unbearable yearning that has been simmering beneath the surface. Your body responds to him, every muscle tensed, every part of you pulled toward him with an intensity you can’t quell. The desire to be close to him, to feel his presence, is overwhelming, a hunger that gnaws at your very core.

With a last, fleeting glance that could almost be mistaken for something soft, something… possessive, Asriel turns, his figure cutting through the air with the same lethal precision that has always defined him. Each step he takes is like a drumbeat, resonating through your body, and you find yourself wishing—desperately—that he would stay just a moment longer, let you taste the closeness of him, feel his warmth again.

But no. He walks away, his back straight, his movements flawless, as he reaches the door. He opens it to reveal the servant, waiting in quiet submission, eyes lowered in respect. And as Asriel addresses him, his voice crisp and businesslike, it stabs through you like a sharp blade.

"Thank you," he says, voice clipped. "Send him in, and ensure we are not disturbed."

The door closes behind him with a soft, final click, and you’re left alone in the silence of the room, a painful void stretching between you and the door.

You remain motionless, heart hammering in your chest, every nerve alight with the memory of his touch, of his words, of the heat that still lingers in the air. The ache is unbearable now—raw, primal—a deep yearning for him, for the release he promises, for the darkness he drags you into and makes you crave. Your breath is shallow, your eyes locked on the door, waiting, desperate for him to return, for that pull between you both to snap tight again.

You stay still, obedient, but inside, you are nothing but a raw, desperate thing, caught in the clutches of longing that won’t be sated until he returns to you.

──

authors note: dear god, i can't believe I wrote this. with that being said, if anyone could give me tips on writing gender neutral but enjoyable smut please message me; it's important to me that all of my readers can feel included in my works.

pet's "heat" is just estrus us humans experience something very similar in idea, ovulation.

#sakuverse #zsakuva #asriel #pet #smut #can you tell it's my first time writing smut? ^.^

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sydnikov · 1 year ago

Text

Carry Me Home || S. Aho

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Sebastian Aho/fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: Sebastian Aho is frustrated with his team’s loss against the New York Islanders. He takes it out on you in a rather primitive way.

Warnings: 18+ smut smut smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kiddos!), oral (f receiving), bits of dom!Sepe, breeding kink if you squint, cursing, angst, not much fluff in this one

A/N: Surprise! My first smut fic. I hate myself. I blame the Hurricanes playing like shit for making me write this. As usual, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!! I certainly didn’t (kidding) P.S. Title is from “All The Small Things” by Blink 182

*Minors, you are responsible for your own media consumption. That being said, I will not block you for interacting with this fic or my blog, but always be aware of the content you choose to consume and the consequences it can have.

Sebastian Aho feels fire in his veins. His skin is flushed, hot to the touch, with his hair smoking from sweat-soaked strands boiling into steam. He is a steadily growing inferno, biding his time before unleashing his wrath.

There was no other time in his life he could think of where he had ever felt so frustrated, so angry.

Painful grunts and the sounds of sticks hitting the ice so hard they break echo in his ears, just as the sound of the puck hitting the goal post every time he shot it did, too. In the back of his mind, Sebastian knows that winning takes more than just one player, but yet all he can think is my fault my fault my fault.

He is an alternate captain, after all. It’s his job to help lead his team, to get them the wins they deserve. So ever since the start of this season, why had he been failing to do so?

Sebastian couldn’t dominate the Islanders on his own no matter how much he wanted to… But there is one person he knows he can.

As the Fin aggressively unties his skates, he imagines the strands of your hair tangled in his fingers as the laces get stuck on his glove. As he rips off his undershirt, he imagines doing the same to your bra.

When the reporters ask the same question they do after every game, “What could you have done better?” and pretend not to flinch when he shoots them a glare, he imagines your wide-eyed gaze as he tells you, c’mon, you can take it, yeah?

He kind of wishes he could say the same thing to these fucking reporters as he imagines giving one or two or preferably all of them a black eye—in a different scenario, of course.

Oh, but you are so good to him. He doesn’t deserve you. There is absolutely nothing in this world that can take you away from him, not now and not ever.

The winger speaks to no one except for the coaching staff as he eventually storms out of the locker room, exchanging a few words about practice and something about more line changes before he is finally let go.

Sebastian doesn’t want to think about hockey anymore. He wants to think about you.

Meanwhile, you were planted outside said locker room with a few of the wives and girlfriends, leaning against the wall while you all tried to talk about anything other than the disaster of a game you’d just watched.

It was hard watching the person you love get so upset and disappointed, especially when knowing how much pressure he puts on himself to be a leader of his team. There were many nights laying in bed, his head resting on your chest, that he revealed the bits and pieces of his carefully shielded heart how responsible he feels for his team’s performance.

How every loss chips away at his self-respect, leaving him feeling broken and lost as he struggles to find a way to get his team back on top. He was only one man, yet felt the weight of a thousand suns bearing down on his shoulders, relying on him to score.

And score he tries. Everything he could do he does; he racks up the points, he makes assists, but all his efforts still couldn’t bring them out on top.

You know Sebastian feels worthless, and you aren’t sure how he’s going to express it as you spot him marching up to you.

“Hey,” is your first word to him, spoken softly and carefully before he pulls you into his chest. The first thing you notice is that he feels like a human furnace; the chill you’d become used to after sitting next to an ice rink for over two hours is immediately replaced with warmth, and you can’t help but bury your head into his chest at the feel of it. “I’m sorry, Sepe.”

The pressure he so often feels immediately dissipates at the sound of your voice. Sebastian releases a strained sigh and curls over your body in a protective embrace, his mind racing with millions of words at a million miles per hour but the only ones he can hear are mine mine mine as you look up at him with unbridled affection.

“Kulta,” My honey, he murmurs, wet strands of hair falling over his eyes as he looks down at you. “You’re still here,” he can’t help but say, almost as if he were expecting you to be gone because he didn’t win.

You soften even more if that were possible. “I would never leave you,” you say with conviction, your words meant to be taken innocently yet all Sebastian could think of is the image of you under him as he thrusts into you, making you say the same words over and over again.

“What was that?”

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. C’mon, pretty girl, say it for me again,”

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He needs to get you home, immediately.

Lacing his fingers through yours, the Finn presses a heated kiss to your lips, groaning so deep in his chest it has your face flushing a beautiful shade of red which has him thinking truly awful things before the two of you leave the arena.

Sebastian wants nothing more than to take care of you, and thinks briefly that maybe this is a developing unhealthy coping mechanism in the works, but as he opens the car door for you and locks eyes on the way your lips flash him a sweet smile, he can’t find it in himself to care.

You’re just so innocent; it’s in your nature to see the good in everything, to see the good in him despite his less-than holy thoughts. While he doesn’t consider his sex life with you vanilla by any means, he almost feels guilty for all the degrading ways he was thinking of you.

Sebastian was not on top of his game tonight, but he was determined, now, to be on top of you.

Your mind, however, is running rampant in all of the ways you think this night could go, and with Sebastian’s large hand splayed across your thigh as he drives the two of you home, you’re fairly positive in your understanding of what your role is going to be.

It’s funny because you’ve been with him for several years now and he still never fails to get your heart racing. Everything about him has you feeling a certain type of way, especially now as you catch shy peeks of his side profile; clenched jaw, ruffled hair, and blazing eyes…

You can’t help but rub your thighs together, a pleasurable tingle starting low in your belly and spreading warmth throughout the rest of your body as Sebastian gives you a look that spells trouble.

He adjusts the hold he has on your thigh, gripping the flesh just a little bit tighter. “Gonna get you home soon, don’t worry,” he says, almost to himself. It has your eyes widening and your heart beating faster because the tone of his voice is almost feral.

Sebastian is not what you would consider rough in bed. He has his moments, where he uses his strength to flip you over or manhandle you into whatever position he wants, but he’s never been the type to fuck you against a wall or anything of the sorts.

And as dominating as he could sometimes be, his softer side more than made up for it. Sweet but deep kisses to your lips, teeth lovingly nipping marks onto the sides of your breasts, hands roaming all over your body with gentle squeezes and caresses, and a body that seldom ran out of stamina making sure your pleasure always comes before his.

His mouth, however… Sebastian’s mouth is the word ‘dirty’ personified. Sinful lips creating words you’d never want your mother to hear, and a tongue that knew every weak spot on your body to leave you shivering in its wake.

In fact, you couldn’t help but remember the last time his mouth was put to use. Twas the night before, actually, where his body was restless and his solution to getting his energy out was sliding down the length of your body with whispered praises, slipping your panties to the side with his pointer finger, and attaching his lips first thing to your clit—

The sound of your name from the very voice of the man you were just fantasizing about interrupts your thoughts. You quickly turn to find that Sebastian already powered off and exited the vehicle and is holding your door open for you, looking at you with slight concern.

He says your name again when you fail to respond, suddenly starstruck.

Sebastian is just and his arms are so and his lips so full and kissable and him—

The next thing you know, the Finn has wrapped his large hands around your waist and is yanking you out of the car, mouth swooping down to meet your eager lips.

He kisses the life out of you, simultaneously slamming the car door shut so he can press you hard against it. The thought that you have any semblance of control right now slips through your rattled brain not unlike the slickness you can feel dripping down your legs.

He was the epitome of domineering, in no mood to let you think you had any say in what he is going to do to you. Tonight is about him needing a release, and the only way he is going to get it is through you.

Or, rather, by him burying himself so deep inside you you wouldn’t be able to walk for days. The thought has his cock throbbing, unable to resist pressing his hips into the heat between your thighs.

The feeling of his dick against your most sensitive spot has you releasing a breathless whine, and then your kisses become harder against his lips, more desperate.

Sebastian bites at your bottom lip, his own rising into a smirk once he feels rather than hears the resulting gasp catch in your throat. He lets one of his hands rise from the grip he has on your ass to slide carefully around your neck, firmly grasping the front of your throat to bring you closer.

The action has you flat-out whimpering, your hands sinking into the winger’s hair, tugging at the strands so hard he hisses. Now, the Finn is no submissive by any means, but never have you seen him so, so… Dominant.

You decide right then and there that you rather like this side of him.

“Sepe,” you try to speak, but the words catch in your throat again as his kisses move from your lips, past his hand still gripping your throat, and down to the sensitive skin of your collarbone. “—I can’t,”

He hums, your pleas merely background noise as he sucks red marks into your skin. “Can’t what? Gonna have to be more specific, nappula,”

Button. Oh, you are so fucked. Literally. His button. He called you his button. His his his.

Unable to take his slow teasing, you tear him away from your neck to bring him back to your eager lips, a desperate sound crawling up your throat as his hands move to bury themselves in your hair.

“Take me to bed, please,”

Sebastian practically melts at your words. Knowing your desperation, he moves his hands back from your hair down to your thighs, tapping once and then twice where you finally got the memo to jump. He curls your legs over his hips, sliding one hand under your ass with the other pressing supportively against the small of your back.

The five-second walk to the front door has the hand previously holding your back trembling as he fumbles with his keys. Finally opening the door after forcing himself to focus, despite the feeling of your mouth leaving teasing nips and kisses, Sebastian mutters a long string of curses as he hurriedly steps into the house, swiftly kicking the door shut behind him.

“Such a fucking tease,” he rasps into your ear, his free hand grasping onto the back of your neck to bring you back to his lips. He kisses you sensually, reveling in the softness of your body molding perfectly against his. “Bet you’ve been waiting for me all night.”

You nod rapidly in agreement, hands trying to find purchase on the smooth lines of his suit so you could begin tearing it off of him. “I’m always wanting you, Sepe,”

Sebastian hisses another curse, and the next thing you know your back is landing softly on the large mattress that is his bed. He gives you no time to gather your thoughts before he’s climbing on top of you. His calloused hands slip under your shirt to remove it, granting him full access to knead at your tits.

The forward kisses you again, tongue tracing lines across your bottom lip before forcefully pushing his way in. You can feel him everywhere and nowhere all at once, a strangled sound escaping your throat as his hips start grinding into the throbbing heat between your legs.

“Seb,” you try, back arching as his hands skillfully move to unclasp your bra. “Oh fuck, Seb, please,”

The sound of your cries has Sebastian grinning wolfishly, your desperation filling him with a sick sense of pride. “Please what?”

Suddenly, you understand his teammates just a little bit more when they would call him a little shit and other various, foul nicknames in front of you.

Clumsily grabbing one of his hands from where it was still massaging your tit, your legs fall open as you press his palm directly over the material of your pants, almost positive they were wet. “Please just touch me, please—”

Your babbling is interrupted when he begins peppering your face with soothing kisses, apologetically rubbing his thumb over your nipple while the other makes its way under your pants and down to your slit, thoroughly soaked with your arousal.

“This all for me?” he coos as two fingers run through your lips, taking the natural lubricant to rub tight circles over your clit. “You’re soaked, kisu.”

The resulting mewl that escapes you afterwards lives up to the name he just called you. Kitty.

Sebastian watches your reactions with hooded eyes, taking note of the way your breath hitches when he rubs your clit a certain way; he knows the ins and outs of your body by now, but every time you have sex there is still something new to learn, and there is nothing Sebastian is if not eager to learn. He’s particularly fond of the way you arch into him as he sinks two fingers inside you, grinning as you cry out while the calloused pads of his fingertips curl against the spongy wall of nerves nestled near the front of your walls.

With panting breaths and strangled moans, your thighs shake as his thumb finds its way back to your clit and rubs it in circles the same way his fingers are doing inside you. Your stomach feels as if it’s in knots, hands gripping the sheets beneath you so hard they’ve gone numb, and your mind is blissfully blank except for the repetitive thought of more more more.

You echo this sentiment to him, to which he merely picks up the pace in response. It’s almost too much but a good too much, like the peak of your pleasure is just climbing higher and higher, almost impossible to reach but you can feel it right there—

Suddenly, all pleasurable movements stop. You snap your head up, aghast, cheeks flushed with arousal and now irritation because were were so fucking close and now all you’re left with is a disappointed burn between your legs. “Sebastian, what the actual fuck,”

The very man himself licks his lips, looking all too pleased with the way you’re relying on him to help you finish. “Patience,” is all he says, flashing you a shiny smile before skilled hands are sliding the rest of your pants and underwear down your legs. Instinctively your legs try to close at the feel of cold air hitting your pussy, but Sebastian is having none of it as he swiftly pries your thighs back apart.

“Shy?” He teases, stroking your inner thigh before pulling his shirt off his head. You have a reply prepared, but quickly lose your train of thought as his torso is revealed; Sebastian is all hard planes of muscle, golden skin with a light dusting of body hair, and so distinctly male he has you practically drooling as you reach out to trail your hands down his chest.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his waist to bring his body down on top of yours. You want, no, need him close to you. While your veins were still full of liquid fire, your nerves so hot that every brush of his skin against yours left you quaking, there is still a certain amount of intimacy that could always be found within your actions towards each other.

A certain intimacy that leads to whispered praises like these; Sebastian flushes, momentarily forgetting the role he vowed to take after the agony that had been wreaking havoc in his mind since his team’s loss. “Kulta,” he says, breath hitching as he presses his lips to your neck to taste the light sheen of sweat covering your skin. He kisses your body like you are his shrine, sworn to you in utter devotion. “Kaunis tyttöni.”

My beautiful girl. Every word from that point onward tumbles past his lips in Finnish, because in what other way can he describe the beauty you encapsulate? You are an angel, after all, his angel, in fact, and his only. With his hands settling on the curves of your waist to further cement his point, he continues his assault on your neck with teeth and tongue all while he grinds his covered dick against your bare pussy.

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me, please,”

And just like that, the indescribable need to claim claim claim takes over his body once more. His eyes darken, the lust swallowing his senses moving him to quickly strip the slacks he wore off his legs, and then he reaches into his boxers to pull out his dick.

You could never get over the sight of his cock, you think momentarily as you stare, mesmerized by the flushed head and leaking tip. He took on more girth than length, and to you it’s nothing less than perfect because Sebastian is the only man who has ever gotten you to the point where you’re unable to walk the next day.

Maybe that speaks more of his knowledge of the female anatomy compared to your exes, but nonetheless you’re grateful.

You bite your lip, one of your hands falling from his back to reach down and take his erection in your hand. Sebastian hisses through his teeth at the feeling of you gripping him, and watches for a moment as you stroke him almost gently.

“I’m going to need you to stop that,” he speaks, a groan following right after before he quickly swats your hand away.

You frown, a slight pout on your lips. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to come in two minutes like a teenager if you keep it up, kisu.”

“Well when you say it like that—”

You’re interrupted by Sebastian slamming your lips back together, your words gone just as quickly as they’d come. Oh, how you could kiss him for ages and never be sick of it. You say this to him, or at least attempt to, before his hand not buried in your hair finds its way back down to your clit and rubs rather roughly.

“Want to taste you,” he mumbles, drunk on the sight of you under him as he lines up his dick with your entrance. “Want to taste you so bad. But I need to be inside you first,”

You try to respond, but then Sebastian is kissing you again right as the head of his cock pushes its way into your cunt. It burns, but a good burn because you would never be used to his size and the feel of him sliding deeper sets all your nerve endings on fire. You’re forced to adjust quickly, and something about him not caring if you’re ready or not has you dripping.

“Oh fuck,” you whine, restless hands weaving through his hair and all over his back, refusing to settle. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, too consumed with how good it felt being stretched to lie still beneath him. “Feels so good, Seb,”

“Yeah?” he huffs into your ear, hot breaths against your skin sending shivers down your spine. “God, you’re perfect,” Sebastian groans, his hips suddenly snapping forward. The angle has him hitting the sweet spot inside you perfectly, your walls clamping down tight around him which sends you both spiraling.

You cry out as he begins moving, the strength behind the force of his thrusts staggering because very rarely did he lose control with you. Sebastian tends to treat you like priceless jewelry, but you’re anything but tonight as his teeth sink into your neck to muffle his moans.

His pubic bone rubs against your clit deliciously every time his hips come down, and you couldn’t help but try and tilt your own upwards to match him. Sebastian clearly appreciates your efforts, hissing something that sounds distinctively like a curse.

Past the ringing in your ears, you can hear him muttering to himself. His eyes are squeezed shut against the rolling tides of pleasure coursing through his body, but his mouth is anything but closed. Then his head is lifting suddenly, hair now slick with sweat hanging over his eyes as he looks down at you.

“I need you to come around me,” he says, voice nothing more than a rasp. “Want to feel you squeezing me.”

“Please,” you interrupt, but he either doesn’t hear your plea or chooses to ignore you.

“Then I’m going to taste you, and when you come I’m going to fuck you again.”

Your head is nodding rapidly at his words because there is zero part of you that ever wants him to stop. It was almost primitive the way he was taking you, and you maybe liked it a little more than you should.

Sebastian picks up the pace, and you find yourself thankful - not for the first time - for his insane amount of stamina. The strength conditioning he goes through on a daily basis makes you wonder how he doesn’t just die, but nonetheless you can’t help but appreciate it.

His hands find their way under your back in the midst of your appreciative thoughts, settled on your lower back just above your ass, when he tilts your hips up and his cock strikes the sensitive, spongy spot inside you head-on. It has you keening loudly, uncontrollably—one of your hands previously gripping the sheets jerkily moves to cover your mouth, your own noises embarrassing you.

He doesn’t notice at first, too busy moving his hips in the same pattern as before because he enjoys the way you grip him like a vice, your body’s way of telling him he’s doing a good job, but when he sees you trying to muffle your noises he instantly grows possessive.

Possessive of you, your noises, because in his feral mind everything about you belongs to him and Sebastian doesn’t want you ever holding yourself back. Your name falls from his lips darkly, “You don’t hide yourself from me,” one of his hands drags yours from your mouth, the other splaying across your lower back to keep your body in the same position.

You try to apologize, but your breath escapes you when his hand slides itself down your body, brushing past one of your nipples, then dipping into your navel where his fingers once again find your swollen clit. He rubs quickly, dick ramming into you even faster than before.

Now more than ever Sebastian wants you to come undone beneath him, and soon he gets his wish as the calloused pads of his fingertips roll your clit in time with one, two, and then on the third thrust your entire body seizes.

Tensing, clenching, shuddering—your eyes flutter as your vision goes white, and you feel nothing except for wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure rushing through you. Vaguely, you feel what you think is Sebastian gently continuing his ministrations on your clit in time with slow thrusts, helping you ride out the waves of your orgasm.

Then your eyes are opening after what feels like hours but had really only been minutes of you going still. You tense again, this time with sensitivity rather than pleasure, and he reads your body perfectly as he slides out of you, removing his fingers from your clit at the same time.

You come to a realization then, “Wait, you didn’t come,” you murmur, and Sebastian has a mischievous sparkle in his eye that makes you think he held himself back on purpose. You’re proven right when he suddenly slides down your body, hands prying your thighs apart before settling on your hips, holding you open like his very own buffet.

He lets out a long sound, like he still can’t believe you’re right here in front of him, and then his mouth is meeting the slick folds of your pussy. The timespan between your first orgasm and him now feasting on you has your mind reeling, blissfully going numb as his warm, wet tongue licks into you.

“Sepe,” you whine, having not yet decided if you could handle another orgasm so close to your last. He parrots your name back, the vibrations from his voice rumbling pleasantly. “You can take it,” he coos, hooded eyes watching your face as his lips now fully latch onto your clit. He sucks, steadily picking up the intensity until your thighs are shaking uncontrollably.

He doesn’t stop, not as your cries grow louder and you subconsciously try squirming away from him. He just holds your hips down, anyways. As his tongue joins the mix, dipping down to flick at your nub suctioned in between his lips, one of his hands moves down to dip two fingers into your folds.

Sebastian groans at your wet heat enveloping his digits, already greedy for the feeling of you squeezing his dick again. Then he starts thrusting his finger, timing it with the flicks of his tongue, and then you’re coming all over again. “There you go, such a good girl for me,” he praises as your pussy spasms, eagerly lapping up your juices like you’re his favorite meal.

Oh god. You are officially fucked-out. You definitely have a bad case of sex-for-brains. You can’t think beyond the sensitivity of your overwhelmed nether regions, and yet as Sebastian crawls up your body for the third time you can’t help but have your legs fall open to welcome him.

This is new for him, too. Sebastian’s endurance is extraordinary, yes, but he never really let himself use it to his full extent with you. Now, though? He wants to explore the thrill of dominance, of controlling you when everything else in his life slips through his fingers.

Against his will, he thinks of his team for a moment. It’s still too raw of a feeling, he finds, hating the way disappointment and frustration bubbles up inside him. Sebastian swallows roughly, squeezes his eyes shut as if that would help block out the sound of the final buzzer ringing in his ears, and then kisses you to distract himself.

As he lines himself back up with your entrance, you both find that the energized tension between you has cooled significantly. Sebastian is less restless and jerky with his movements, and your desperation has cooled as your legs wrap around his waist. He whimpers into your neck, then, his arms curling under your back to press your bodies even closer together.

Your roles switch, and you whisper sweet and dirty nothings into Sebastian’s ear as his hips roll into you. The head of his cock scratches that delicious part inside of you, and soon your words turn into gasps which are music to his ears. One thrust has you squeezing him particularly hard, and his rhythm stutters. “Fuck, you feel amazing,”

His lips form into an o-shape, and suddenly he finds that his high is coming (hah) much quicker than expected. He expresses such, or thinks he does, because all you do is moan in response when his thrusts pick up speed.

He wants to send you into your third orgasm before letting go himself, and even though Sebastian has been rather selfish tonight, one thing that would never change is that your pleasure would always come before his—no matter what.

“Gonna come for me?” Sebastian teases, lips managing to curl into a brief smirk before you’re squeezing him again, wiping it right off his face. “Yeah? Look so pretty taking my cock, baby,”

“I’m close,”

“I know. Let go for me.”

And let go you do. You seize up, not for the first time tonight, before shuddering with full force in the wake of your third release. Your vision goes white in time with the ringing of your ears as you’re consumed in it, feeling too much but also not enough at the same time because your boyfriend is a force you could never get sick of.

Your walls are squeezing Sebastian like a vice, and it only takes him a few more thrusts as you ride out your orgasm before he’s falling into his own. He groans from deep in his chest, arms shakily moving to rest on either side of your head as he buries his own in your neck.

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder as his dick pulses inside you, pumping you full of his cum while you shudder beneath him. It fills Sebastian with a primal sense of satisfaction, knowing he’s claimed you from the inside out.

You’re his, still repeats itself in his mind on repeat, until both of your bodies are spent and he’s rolling off of you exhaustedly. You’re still panting when he turns to look at you, and without hesitation he pulls you into his chest so you can rest your tired body against his.

It takes you a few minutes until you can muster the energy to move, and when you do it’s to tilt your head up to look up at him. You murmur his name, quietly, lest you disturb the fragile peace the two of you find yourselves in. “Sepe?”

“Mhmm?”

“Do you feel better?” It’s a loaded question, you both know, and he takes a few minutes to think about it.

Sebastian’s body feels better, yes. It’s limp, relaxed, the achy tension long-gone from his muscles. The moment he first sank into you he felt immensely better, actually, now that he thinks about it.

His mind, however, is a completely different story.

Colors of red, orange, and blue flash behind his eyes; the colors of his jersey and the opposing team’s, with the haunting sound of the final buzzer still playing in his memory. He thinks of the anger, of his teammates’ faces as they marched defeatedly into the locker room.

No, he thinks with sudden clarity. No, he doesn’t feel better. Sebastian doesn’t say this though; it probably isn’t the answer you want to hear, considering how you explored a new aspect of your relationship tonight.

You know, though. You always know—Sebastian is your better half, and you can understand him more than your own self sometimes, now being one of those moments.

“I love you,” you say after several minutes of silence. Your declaration - the first of the night, he suddenly realizes - says everything he needs to know, about how you feel for him and that he has your support no matter what.

Sebastian swallows, finding that his throat is parched. Lying naked under the sheets, vulnerable and oh-so-exposed, he lowers his head to kiss you sweetly. You mold together softly, and a low rumble can be felt from his chest as you gently nip at his bottom lip.

He is a man of few words, preferring to show his feelings with actions rather than words and this just happened to be one of those moments. He loves you so much, more than words can describe, his lips say, before they gently part from yours.

You admire him in his full glory before he opens his mouth to speak. His hair is incredibly ruffled, from both your hands and the game he played, his full lips swollen red from your kisses, and his eyes have a light sheen to him that suggest he’s more emotional than letting on.

Sebastian raises a hand to your cheek, large yet gentle palm caressing the soft skin as he gazes at you like you’re precious porcelain. “I love you,”

Your lips break into a small smile, and then you’re curling farther into his chest. You’re far too comfortable to move, figuring aftercare in the bathtub can come later. For now, you’re content; your body is sated, and with his cum dripping down your legs you’ve never felt so full with love.

Sebastian knows he has hell to face tomorrow morning. He knows it, but doesn’t really care. For now, in the peaceful silence of his room with only the gentle sounds of your breaths to keep him company, he chooses to forget.

He’s only one man, after all. He can’t carry his team, but he can carry you.

A/N: This is the first time I've written in present tense, which was actually a lot harder than I thought because I kept using past tense action verbs 💀 it was a fun challenge though!! Hopefully my parents never ask me what exactly it is that I write about because. Uh. Yeah. Once again, please reblog and comment :))

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caparrucia · 2 years ago

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There's a very Tumblr-specific grift that I find both fascinating and utterly frustrating in how recurrent it is.

Because Tumblr is a casual social media site, this is rarely the site where professionals and organizations host a public presence. Tumblr isn't Twitter. You pick up a username and use it as a pseudonym and all anyone knows about you is what you say about yourself. To connect someone's personal Tumblr with their wallet name is doxxing and evil.

So you end up with people who are passionate and knowledgeable about a vast array of subjects, but there's not really a structure of credibility behind it. Which is really cool and awesome and allows people to express themselves and keep a private space where they can be themselves without much consequence... but it also opens the ground for this particular flavor of griefter: The Enlightened One.

The Enlightened One is just knowledgeable enough about an obscure or complex subject that a simple Wikipedia search will not debunk them, but fundamentally wrong in ways that people actually knowledgeable on the subject froth at the mouth about, because they're not straightforward or easy to debunk. To explain what's wrong with their shit, you'd need to give a full course on your specialty, which requires time and effort most people don't want to spend in their fun, casual space because it amounts essentially to doing work.

And that frothing rage and frustration is very easily mischaracterized as "jealousy" or "hate" and used to uplift The Enlightened One into a pedestal of prosecution.

See, most of the time The Enlightened One is just a clueless dipshit making themselves seem important on the internet, and while they're incredibly frustrating for the people who actually know what they're talking about, they're easy to ignore. But the worst kind, are the kind that are actively spreading misinformation and often starting panic waves, when their niche of interest turns out to be... you know, a bit more sensitive than say period clothing or ancient poetry.

There's nothing wrong with learning from people who are happy to share their knowledge, even in a casual setting like Tumblr. There's also nothing wrong with people asking for compensation when that sharing of knowledge has become a structured, time consuming effort and it's essentially a curated resorce.

But the moment you meet someone who encourages you to run all your decisions by them? Who wants you to treat their inbox like the google search box? Who answers questions without providing any sources, or all their sources link back to their own posts/content? When you meet someone who insists you can stop thinking and let THEM do the thinking for you?

Run The Fuck Away.

#shut up rie #this post brought to you by the recent resurgence of wank #tumblr stop creationg petty wannabe cult leaders challenge

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whatislovevavy · 7 months ago

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Tia Maria and Whiskey on the Rocks

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OC (Cherry)

Masterlist

Author's Note: hey y'all, apologies for the extremely late posting, I've been going through some life transitions and finding time and motivation to write has been difficult, but here it is now :) This is part two of Most of Freedom and Of Pleasure, and is apart of @thedroneranger 's Pick Your Poison Writing Challenge with the prompt being Espresso Martinis I'm glad I got to include one of my favorite drinks with one of my favorite songs with a character I love writing for <3 I'm most likely going to do a third part with smut in it, so let me know if that would be something you lovely people would like to read :)

Warnings: Mentions of Smut, Fluff, Alcohol, Pilots catching feelings

WC: 5.2k

All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook

This is an 18+ fanfic, so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation.

Goddamn it.

You slid the end call button as Phoenix didn’t pick up, fighting with the raindrops that fell and streaked down your phone screen, and trying to keep your jacket secure around your frame that didn’t seem to be saving your red dress from being soaked by the rain. The overwhelming damp and cold feeling seeped into your scalp and made the floodgates that held your tears back crack and crumble all the more.

You regretted this date, much more than all of the others.

A shaky sigh left your lips, frustration, and anger forming its potent mix in your mind.

You tried to keep your eyes on your phone and to stay calm; you didn’t need the people eyeing you on the sidewalk feeling sorry for you. They had nothing to feel sorry for anyway. You were just a person that had a disaster of a date and was stuck out in the rain trying to get home. Absolutely nothing to feel sorry for. You huffed, tensing your jaw as you found cover under an awning of a bookstore. Trying not to look at anyone that gave you that characteristic look of pity as they walked by. Biting your lip, you contemplated calling the last number you wanted to be calling late on a Friday night.

Just get it over with, you thought.

You quickly tapped the call button next to the infuriating little contact icon. Biting into your lip harder, finding the puddle reflecting the San Diego city lights more appealing than attempting to meet any passerbyers gaze as each tone brought you closer to a ride home. Or the teasing of a lifetime. Maybe both.

“Cherry.”

That familiar silk laced drawl made you shut your eyes and wish anyone else had picked up when you called. But alas, here you were.

“Wasn’t expectin’ to hear from you. I thought you were busy entertainin’ what’s his name, Dylan? Derrick?”

The humor in his voice brought a hot surge of frustration to the tips of your fingers as you gripped your phone harder, jaw tensing.

“Look, I’m not in the mood for this right now…” Your voice losing its bite, but only by a little, “I’ve had a really shitty night, and,” you took a shaky breath, the frustration of the evening coming in full force on your psyche, “I need a ride home.” Jake's teasing grin wilted. You never would have called him, unless it was serious. He licked his lower lip, turning to look back at his friends finishing up a game of pool from the corner near the bathrooms, the steadily growing chatter in the bar making it more difficult to hear you as the seconds passed. He rubbed the back of his neck, swallowing. “Ok, sit tight, sweets. I'll come get you, you're still at Benny’s?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. That’s…odd. You never told him where you were going. The wind and rain made you pull your jacket tighter around yourself. The evening rain makes you shiver, jaw chittering. Taking a deep breath, “yeah, I'm outside,” eyes diverting from the passing traffic to the worn, gold tinged cursive on the window, “Clara’s bookstore.“Your eyes trained on the rain soaked overhead awning dripping to the sidewalk in front of your painted toes peeking from your heels as you waited for his response.

Jake's eyebrows furrowed, eyes diverting from his phone screen to the rain streaked windows facing the beach. That's a decent walk from where you ate, he thought, eyebrows raising. Must've been quite a guy to make you leave early. And in the pouring rain, no less.

“I'll be there soon, Cher. Are you somewhere safe? Somewhere out of the rain?”

If you didn't know any better, you'd say the insufferable, look-out-for-number-one-only, selfish, arrogant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, who spent each free moment he wasn't peacocking around base, making your nerves burn and fray, sounded concerned about your well being.

As soon as Jake heard your dreary, evidently rain soaked confirmation, he opted out of the game, forcing Bob to take his place with little to no explanation besides that a commitment came up,” striding down the Hard Deck steps to his parked truck.

He's not ditching you. He wouldn't do that. You repeated what felt like mantras as the minutes ticked by. Hot tears started to brew at the corners of your eyes. You clutched your now soaked jacket over your dress, your toes sinking into the soggy faux leather of your heels as you leaned back against the concrete column of the closed store. The amber overhead lights making warped reflections in the puddles of the buildings and cars passing by.

Your breathing was ragged as you felt the familiar flames of frustration lick at your brain, something that had only stopped when Jake said he was going to go come get you.

You felt so stupid. Wearing this dress. These heels. Your smudged make-up that, at one point, looked presentable. You just wanted to go home and eat a pint of ice cream.

God, why hadn't Phoenix picked up?

You clenched your eyes in frustration, a rigid breath leaving your throat as you leaned your head back against the column.

The familiar hum of Jake's truck brought your teary gaze up to the almost barely visible silhouette in the driver's seat.

Jake's door flew open, jogging with a jacket clutched in hand. Your eyes widened as he got closer to you, wrapping you up in his jacket.

By the time he reached you, his hair was drenched, now a more dull golden hue. His charm remained, unfortunately, in the city’s downpour.

“Come on sweets, let's get you inside.” Your mouth parted slightly. The sight of his shirt clinging to his biceps and broad shoulders, and the subtle scent of sweat, his natural musk, and rain almost made you miss his statement.

His rich jade eyes traced the soft reflection of the street light off of your soaked hair, to your smudged make up, to the drenched portions of your dress and jacket to your slight shiver you were evidently trying to repress.

His lips curved into a slight frown. You didn't deserve to be treated this way on a date. Especially not when you looked so-

His eyes returned to your deep brown ones, undertoned by your smudged mascara, finding them already on his; sharper than a moment ago, daring him to pity you.

He carefully wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders, guiding you to the passenger door of his truck, headlights still blinding, and refracting with the incoming rain.

The car ride was silent except for the quiet sounds from the radio. Jake would take occasional glances your way at stop lights, but your gaze remained on the road ahead; head leaned against the side rest of his car, body still wrapped in his jacket. You had to stop yourself from unintentionally cocooning yourself deeper into it.

“You want me to drop you off at your apartment?”

You glanced at him, “yeah.”

His frown curved deeper. Your tone lacked the usual spitfire attitude you always bared him, instead replaced by a sense of accepted defeat. A few beats of silence passed before Jake cleared his throat. “This Dylan guy must've been some date…you want to talk about it?” Your lip quirked up a bit. His name was Derrick, but you didn't have the heart to correct him.

You adjusted closer to the side of the passenger seat, leaning your head on the window.

“Not really.”

There was that same defeated tone again, the one that made Jake's heartache in a way he had never felt before for you. Or for anyone for that matter.

Jake brought his truck from a coast to a stop in front of your apartment building. His comforting gaze settled on your face, gaze still avoiding his. “Thanks for the ride home.” Your cherrywood eyes met his, giving him a tight smile before grabbing your purse, soaked coat, and leaving his jacket on the leather seat. His frown deepened, jaw tensing a bit as he watched you open his truck door. How dare this pathetic excuse of a man bring you to this state, a complete 180 to how he saw you every day since he met you.

“Wait,” you looked back towards him, expecting some usual hangman-esque comment that would surely make you throw your soaked shoe at him. “Look, Hangman, I appreciate the ride home, but I'm not in the mood to sleep with you as a ‘thank you’.” His eyebrows pinched. Did you really think that low of him? And in that same defeated tone? “That,” he sighed, “that’s not what I was going to say,” he reassured, pushing his hair back with his hand. Opposing hand still on the steering wheel, watch gleaming in the glow of the radio.

“Let me buy you some food and a drink, I know you like the Cajun fries at that bar downtown.”

You were taken aback by the offer. Frankly, you weren't in the mood if this was a joke. “It'd be my treat,” he lightly pressed with a comforting tone. You bit the inside of your lip, examining his face for any sign of ill intent, but you found nothing in his warm sea glass eyes or the defined features of his nose and jaw.

Cajun fries sounded nice.

Really nice.

And a drink sounded even better.

“Plus, I heard your stomach grumbling so you can't lie to me.” A smile almost broke out across your lips.

Almost.

“I don't know, Hang,” you sighed. The thought of snuggling up on your couch in a warm blanket, with a pint of ice cream and watching some trash reality show sounded appealing. But you were hungry and you had yet to go grocery shopping. And you had no booze.

“I promise, I'll make it worth your while…”

You bit your lip, “a drink does sound really nice…”

His lips twitched into a smile, eyes twinkling.

“Don't make me regret this, Hang…”the familiar spark in your voice slowly returned, making his heart skip a beat, “let me just change shoes first.” You grimaced as you remembered just how soaked your shoes were as the rain finally let up.

“Wouldn't dream of it, Sweets,” he reassured as you left him towards your front door, a concealed smile on your face that cracked with each stride to your door. He let his eyes skim from your bare back to your concealed hips with an appreciative gaze as the red material of your dress flowed around your bare thighs. His view closed off as you shut your front door.

You let your eyes drift across the interior of the bar at your booth, leaning your cheek on your hand. Jake had left you at the booth to get you a drink. You tried to give him a request, but he left before he could hear you. At least whatever concoction he brought you would be free. You let your eyes drift shut, listening to the sound of the bar top and the music player in the corner.

“One Tia Maria Espresso Martini for the lovely lady, and the fries are on their way.” You opened your eyes to see the almost onyx colored elixir with a layer of frothy foam in the glass, a triage of espresso beans that looked almost weightless on the foam layer.

How did he know this was your favorite? You had never ordered them at Penny’s since she didn't have Tia Maria. You looked at him, eyebrows raised, expecting some sort of explanation for how he knew about this.

“I remember you tried to order one of these at Penny's and thought you'd like it,” he said with a subtle tone of shyness, like he was apprehensive that he had overstepped, making your eyebrows knit together.

“I don't fully understand why you like them,” he teased, stirring his whiskey on the rocks in his glass, an effortlessly charming smile beginning to form on his lips, “but it makes sense.”

Your eyes narrowed at his playful ones, “what's that supposed to mean?”

He leaned back against the booth, eyes tracing the pretty features of your face and caramel skin tone, the neon lights above your seat adding to the gleam of your wavy, soft, dark hair.

Taking a sip from his glass, you tried to focus on his face and not the subtle bob of his adam’s apple as he took a warming sip of the amber liquid.

“You're kind of an acquired taste,” he took another sip, “bitter, but have a sweet side deep down.” Your eyes narrowed, “I'm not an acquired taste, you're just annoying and insufferable 99% of the time, so you never see my sweet side,” you clipped, eyes slowly sharpening. His lip quirked. To anyone else it would seem like you hated his guts. But he knew better, knew you better. He playfully put his hand over his heart, “Oh, Sweets, annoying and insufferable? You wound me.” You rolled your eyes, a smile slipping around the rim of your martini glass. The bittersweet elixir flowing down your throat. His grin widened, “there's that smile,” he teased. Before you could quip him back, the root of your culinary desire was placed on the table with a soft tap and a gentle "enjoy" from the waitress. The savory, warm smell of the spices and fries almost made you moan, only now realizing just how hungry you were. You had left your date just as you were barely through your starting salad.

“Easy there, Sweets, don't want you to choke,” he teased, giving you a wink.

You rolled your eyes at the poorly disguised innuendo, “don't tell me how to eat my fries, Bagman.”

He barely held back his laugh at what was essentially a growl. He contemplated telling you that technically they were his fries, but he opted to keep them to himself. If having three sisters had taught him anything, it's to never get between a woman and her food.

A comfortable silence fell over the table as he glanced around the bar and back to you, still picking at your fries. Eyes tracing over the defined round edges of your sinful red colored nails that he tried to not think about how they would feel pressed into his shoulder blades, to your necklace that dipped teasingly between your breasts. The subtle rise of your chest. The sprinkle of freckles and gentle flutter of your eyelashes on your cheeks. The touched-up mascara on your eyelashes. The soft flush of your cheeks. The cute curve of your nose. The gentle slope of your lips.

“You listening?”

His eyes shot to your own, his face a bit pink after having been caught.

“Of course, Sweets,”

Your eyes narrowed as you put your fry down in the basket, scoffing.

“I asked,” you leaned forward, arms crossing on the table, his eyes doing their damnedest to not dart down to your cleavage, “why you brought me here, because I don't buy it was only because my stomach was making noises.”

Your tone wasn't sharp or accusatory, but it still put him a bit on edge.

He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to get comfortable in his seat. You had a habit of putting him on edge, but in a way that made him crave more. It was almost adrenaline inducing.

“Just wanted to treat you a little, that not allowed?”

His collected, charismatic answer made you narrow your eyes.

“You're not a very good liar.”

His lip quirked into a grin, diverting his gaze down to his empty glass before bringing his warm eyes up to your own again. His grin settling into a thin line. It wasn't exactly a lie.

“I didn't want you to wallow on your couch thinking about that Danny guy. You don't deserve to feel that way.”

Your eyebrows rose, lip quirking. That definitely wasn't the answer you were expecting and it was still the wrong name, again.

His eyes dart away from yours to the bar top. Clearing his throat, “you want another martini?”

You blink, breaking your thoughts, toying with the empty glass, “yeah, I'll take another.”

Your eyes followed the way his body moved under his button up shirt that exposed a delicious amount of chest hair, and his worn, rich burnt sienna leather jacket. The way his stride exuded a rare sense of carefree confidence. The broadness of his shoulders under his jacket. The thickness of his fingers around the delicate glass of your martini. The way his golden locks of hair reflected the overhead lights of the bar and various neon signs on the wall you both were seated at.

It made you almost forget that you knew what it felt like to have his bare skin against your own. It made you forget, for just a moment, that you’d been fucking this man with no strings attached.

“Here you are, Sweets,”His smooth drawl derailed your train of thought that would have surely made you clench your thighs.

He placed the martini on the table with an almost silent clank against the table, eyes bright and playful, the rich green color added by the neon cloverleaf above his head.

Your lip quirked, “thank you…. You know I don't like it when you call me, Sweets, Hang.”

A smirk grew on his lips, “I think it suits you,” his gentle gaze on yours.

You scowled, trying to repress the smile that threatened to break through. He didn't need more encouragement to call you these…you wanted to say demeaning titles, but that felt a bit cruel. It was more like a pet name, a source of teasing that wore your nerves down faster than any other trick he had in his well developed arsenal. He'd always been something akin to a wart. Once you caught him, he was hard to leave.

“Fries any good?”

You looked down to the near-empty basket to his teasing features. A small smile broke through as you gently pushed the basket to him. After all, he did pay for them.

You watched as he took a few and brought them between his perfect teeth, eyes darting between the sight of him dipping a few more in ketchup, to picking at your red manicured nails. A comfortable silence fell over the table and quiet conversation followed, from what plans were set for their work colleagues to hang out next, to whether Bob was going to ask Admiral Simpson’s new secretary out.

“I don’t think he’s gonna do it.” Jake said confidently as he leaned back against the booth, his arm over the back, his other hand holding his near empty glass of whiskey. Your eyebrows rose, feeling a bit more loose and warm since first sitting down, mostly attributed to the fact you were finishing up your third martini. You cracked a smile, eyes comfortably heavy, “you don’t know Floyd very well then.” His eyebrows rose, encouraging you to go on. You leaned forward, eyes bright and intense, just how Jake liked them, “you do know what Bob stands for don’t you?” His lip quirked, eyes bright and mirthful, “of course, baby on board.” You took a sip from your glass, rolling your eyes at his typical cocksure tone, “No, it stands for…” His brow quirked waiting for you to finish, his grin starting to form as he watched your eyes dance across the ceiling looking for the words in your impaired state.

You leaned forward closer across the table, putting your pointer fingers up, biting at the inside of your cheek, losing your battle with the grin that wanted to gleam on your face, “it stands for Big Ol’ Balls.” His own laughter bubbled up in his throat as he watched you crumble into near hysterics at what had just left your mouth.

His laughter settled while yours continued, failing to do anything else but just listen to the sweet noise. He had heard your laugh before, but he’d never had any significant part of bringing it out of you. He let a smile grace his lips at the sweet noise. As your laughter died down, he let his eyes wander to the jukebox in the corner and the thinning out crowd at the bar. He bit the inside of his cheek, the creases of his forehead showing as he listened to the song emulating from the speakers.

“Do you wanna dance?” Jake asks, not fully thinking about the question.

Your espresso martini almost did a full stop in your throat. Tonight had been a series of firsts with Hangman; sharing fries, him buying you drinks, and seeing you in your romantic element. Dancing together was an oddly intimate first. Sure, you’d both fucked each other’s brains out almost every other day, but dancing, well, dancing was something that seemed to be a step further than that. It didn’t involve a physical closeness attributed to taking your frustrations out on each other; it was two people flowing together, not trying to wrack each other’s physical resolve. It completely contradicted the original purpose of getting physically close to this insufferable, arrogant man; an outlet for pent up frustration through deeply satisfying, carnal escapades.

Before you could stop yourself, you nodded.

He rose up out of the booth first with a squeak, offering you his hand. Your deep brown eyes looking up at him, then darting to his outstretched hand, your lips parting.

This was new, uncharted territory.

“I promise I won’t bite,” he reassured with a smile. He tried to not think about the way your red dress hugged your curves so deliciously, or how your cleavage almost spilled over the top of your garment. You had already had three martinis, and were definitely feeling the effects of them. He didn’t want to make you feel pressured into anything that you both typically took part in when you were this close physically. But he still wanted to be close to you.

You bit the inside of your lip and, for reasons only God could tell you, you took his hand.

He led you to the corner near the jukebox that was otherwise mostly emptied out. The beginning of England Dan and John Ford Coley’s I'd really love to see you tonight flowed from the speakers as Jake settled his hands on your waist, your own apprehensively around his neck, keeping your body upright as you let the initial beats flow through you in your relaxed state. His evergreen eyes traced over your melted brown ones, admiring the subtle flush of your cheeks to your low, lidded eyes.

Hello, yeah, it's been a while

Not much, how about you?

Your eyes darted around his face, avoiding his eyes that seemed to solely focus on your own. His hands squeezed your hips. In attraction or comfort, you couldn’t quite tell.

I'm not sure why I called

I guess I really just wanted to talk to you

You should have felt more alarmed by the close proximity and unorthodox reason behind it, but, and you didn’t want to admit it, the proximity felt nice. Maybe it was because of the drinks? It had to be because of the drinks.

And I was thinking maybe later on

We could get together for a while

One of his hands left your hip to softly, ever so softly, to lift your chin up to meet his eyes. “What are you getting shy about?” The gentle smirk on his lips paired perfectly with his rich green eyes.

It's been such a long time

And I really do miss your smile

You swallowed, eyes trapped in a jade coated trance. “I think I just had too much to drink.” His lip quirked at your soft, almost whispered tone, holding you as you both swayed to the music. He knew you could hold more alcohol, but didn’t press.

I'm not talking about moving in

And I don't want to change your life

He brought you closer to him, resting his head against the side of your own. Savoring the soft smell of citrus from your hair and the warm skin of your lower back against the palm of his hand, and the silk texture of your hand in his own.

But there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out

And I'd really love to see you tonight

This felt like the most alien and natural thing he had done with you. It almost made him forget that within only the last few hours, he was fucking you against the hunter green lockers, feeling you cum on his cock.

We could go walking through a windy park

Or take a drive along the beach

He tried to not ruin the delicate moment he was having with you, and he figured his dick pressing into you might make you forget about all the good the night has brought between you two. A larger part of him than he cared to admit didn’t want to go back to the no-strings-attached arrangement he’d had with you for the past few months.

Or stay at home and watch TV

You see it really doesn't matter much to me

He wanted more moments like this with you. But he could feel the apprehension that, as much as he didn’t want to admit, was mostly attributed to his reputation. In the months since first feeling you fall apart under him, he hadn’t slept with anyone else. Not even the desperate tag chasers in form-fitting maxi dresses at the Hard Deck. And that had to count for something.

I'm not talking about moving in

And I don't want to change your life

He couldn’t help the pang in his chest; you were definitely open to dating other men. Could he really change your mind about him?

But there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out

And I'd really love to see you tonight

You had to admit, if someone had told you months ago that you would be slow dancing with Hangman in a nearly empty bar, and you wouldn't be trying to claw his throat out, you would have told them they’d been breathing in too much jet fuel. As much as you hated to admit it, it felt nice and, dare say, comforting being here with him.

I won't ask for promises

So you don't have to lie

The soft texture of his jacket, warm hold, and soothing scent around his neck made you sigh. It was different from his usual mix of jet fuel, sweat, bergamot, and cedarwood. A part of you really hated how anything looked good on him and that he smelled amazing in whatever scent wafted off of him.

We've both played that game before

Say I love you and say goodbye

“I’m sorry your date didn’t go well tonight,” You gently leaned back from his head, eyes meeting his own. Your eyes drooped comfortably as you looked over his face, trying to detect any sense of pity or ridicule. But all you found were warm, soulful, malachite eyes looking back into your burnt sienna ones under the neon lights. If your mind was clearer, you’d say it was romantic. But this was Hangman, and what he did best was no-commitment hookups in the dead of night. Not romance. It would take more than three martinis to make you forget that.

I'm not talking about moving in

And I don't want to change your life

“Yeah, me too,” you muttered before leaning your head back on his shoulder. He swallowed gently, afraid that the movement would disturb you.

But there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out

And I'd really love to see you tonight

Jake continued to hold you close as slow songs continued to ebb and flow from the speaker, one after the other; trying to not let his mind drift to how this would play out tomorrow in your more sober mind, until he could feel your weight grow heavier against his body as you swayed gently.

“Hey, Sweets,” he whispered against your hair. You hummed, eyes fluttered closed. “I should get you home.” You hummed in agreement, not having the strength to fight him on the pet name. Your sequoia-colored eyes peeking open, making him smile.

He settled the tab, placing his leather jacket around your shoulders that wrapped you in warmth and the soothing smell of cedarwood and cinnamon.

He walked you back to his truck, opening the door for you and making sure you were settled before closing the door.

The car ride back was silent as you tried to stay awake, listening to the slow country song on the radio, your eyes drifting shut. The smooth stall of the truck made your eyes flutter open. Jake gently reached out to you, gingerly rubbing the knuckle of his forefinger against your exposed forearm to get your attention. You flinched at the unexpected, soft, almost non-existent contact, body tensing. “We’re here, Sweets,” his gentle tone letting your body ease back into the seat.

Before your mind thought to open the door, he was already on the other side opening it for you, and offering you his hand to step down. It was truly unfair how good he looked under the streetlights outside your apartment, with his unbuttoned shirt, sunglasses hooked in the front, and slightly disheveled hair. It made you wonder how you came to hate this man in the first place. But then again, hate was a strong word and maybe he didn’t deserve to have it placed on him. Maybe it was only because of the three espresso martinis he bought you, tinting your vision of who he was tonight.

Jake didn’t ask if you wanted him to walk you to your door. He held your hand gently in a way that seemed unusual for him as he walked with you up the stone steps to your front door. “Thanks for tonight. I really needed it.” His face broke out into a soft, sincere smile, “anytime, Cherry.” Your lips tugged into a smile, diverting your eyes to the house keys in your hand. His eyes couldn't stop drawing to the strand of dark hair that kept getting in your eyes. Your gaze shot to him as he let his forefinger sweep the hair behind your ear.

“You deserve to have fun every once in a while.”He murmured, eyes tracing over the fine features of your face and the rich color of your hair under the porch light. His soft eyes brought a certain warmth that you'd never experienced with him.

You gave him a smile, as you fiddled with your keys, fighting off the blush that threatened to break through.

“Do you think,” you swallowed, “that you could not tell anyone about my really shitty date?” Jake, putting on a small smile, nodded, “yeah, of course, Sweets. I mean, I think I did a pretty good job at rectifying the experience.”

His gentle, carefree smirk made your lip tip up into a small smile and shake your head.

You let go of his hand, resisting to admit that you missed the contact already.

“I’ll see you on Monday, Hang,” you bid farewell.

He watched with a gentle smile and warm eyes as you closed the door behind you, giving him a soft wave.

His lips pursed, morphing back into a smile as he walked back to his truck. The night seemed to fulfill him more than all of your trysts combined.

It had to count for something that you didn't ask him to never mention your... date? if he could even call it that...

You leaned back against your shut front door, a smile on your lips that he had never brought past your lips.

Maybe it was only because of the three espresso martinis and this haze would lift in the morning, and he’d go back to being Hangman.

Or maybe, just maybe, he truly wasn't as bad as you thought.

People who may be interested <3

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