#they want desperately to walk back on everything

[girl-lostconnection]

I just wanna say I love your fruit bat!reader and I just had to think about the boys further misunderstanding when reader maybe has a darker aesthetic, but reader doesn't get at all the connection cause like yeah black's just a neat colour, oh I guess vampires are cool. Wait me? *Mouthful of orange or something* me no fruits all the way? I don't know what you mean.

On one side it would be incredibly funny as misunderstanding but the devil is whispering in my ear so let’s walk the other way.

Imagine Reader freshly selected to join the team, nervous about meeting new people who they read EVERYTHING on, just to be ready.

And no one is hostile, right? They are friendly, almost too friendly, which grates on your nerves a little but you know, maybe you are thinking too much about it?

Works up until the first joke about the vampires, huge wolf operator (you find out later that his call sign is Ghost).

“Know why people don’t like workin’ with vampire bats?”, the question catches you off guard, your eyes snapping to the man’s eyes and you tilt your head to the side. You don’t know him yet, you aren’t sure how much of a reaction is allowed in this circumstance.

“‘Cause they are pain in the neck”, he announces, his brown eyes boring a hole into you, his tail wagging like he is waiting for you to start laughing.

You don’t. You stare right back at him, fingers flexing so the sharp points of your claws dig into your palm and you manage a smile that feels a little too forced.

Big wolf in front of you apparently sees it as well, because you can see the way his jaw flexes under the mask.

So for some reason he decides to give it another go. (Only months later you will find out that Simon was desperately scrambling for all the bat x vampire puns he remembered, thinking that the first one sounded a little too abrasive)

“What drink does bat order at the bar?”, he asks, his left ear giving in a small twitch that catches your eye. He sure is big for the wolf, most of their family you met in the past were tall and lean but this guy is built like a bloody tank.

“What?”, you ask, heart beating a little harder than you’d like it, anxiety coiling in your gut.

“A Bloody Mary”, wolf hums out, his ear giving in another twitch and corners of your mouth curl upwards. Cute.

Wolf’s tail starts to wag again, eyes satisfied as he walks off and you follow him to see your new space and unpack.

Isn’t so bad for the first meeting, right?

But in hindsight every interaction from then on felt…somehow forced. Recurring about blood and meat and fucking Halloween. Remarks about wearing too much black or the way Soap once chuckled at the silver chain with a beautiful red cross. Not a religious symbol but simply an accessory you liked.

It all was piling up so quickly you decided to just…stay on the outside. Maybe that would be better. Maybe they were trying to tell you that they didn’t want a bat and didn’t like bats.

That they didn’t like you.

It takes time to undo and the process is slow — you are a tough nut to crack, but they don’t try to crack you. Just…make amends, yeah?

Your relationship with Simon makes a cycle when he peels you oranges, eyes soft as you devour pieces of peaches.

“Do you know what’s a vegetarian vampire bat’s favourite fruit, luv?”, he hums out, placing a peeled orange in your bowl, something in his tone making you feel fuzzy.

“What is it?”, his tail is wagging and god the way he looks at you makes something tender in your chest ache, you mouth voluntarily falling open when he pushes a piece of peach in it, eyes crinkling.

“A neck-tarine”, Simon murmurs, his tail wagging harder when you laugh after a beat, juices from fruit dripping down your chin.

You shake your head at him in faux disbelief and he grins, popping a slice of orange in his mouth.

“Can do it all night”

You roll your eyes and instinctively smack his hand away when he tries to steal your bowl.

“That’s what I’m afraid of”

[thestraprider]

fuck. paige mentally cursed inside her head.

why did you have to be so fucking pretty?

both of your chests were rising up and down in rapid breaths, necks covered in marks as paige’s lips went to your harden nipples, the prettiest shade of pink she had ever seen as her teeth sunk into it, pinching the other between her pointer and middle finger.

you let out a whimper as paige continued to nip your chest, you arched your back as you weakly pushed her shoulders. “fuck you, paige.” you breathly muttered, “i told you not to leave goddamn marks… i have to—ah, meet my friends later!”

“yeah?” paige’s voice was muffled against your skin, moving her lips up to pepper kiss the skin of your chest as she sped up the pace of her hips. her strap that was hitting every part of your inside for the past hour had caused your body to limp on the mattress, gasping for air and crying out her name. “there are only two solutions for that, ma.”

you hate to admit it to yourself, but paige was the only one who can fuck you like this. splitting you open, fucking you so good that you felt your whole body and mind were melting. you bit your lower lip to stifle a scream when paige angled her hips a bit, bullying your weaker spots.

tears were threatening in the corner of your eyes as you felt a warm breath on your neck. paige softly kissed your earlobe, “first, just show it to them. let them know that i’m the one who’s making you feel this good because your batshit ex-boyfriend couldn’t.”

your mind couldn’t fully comprehend what paige was saying, especially when she lifted your lower back before pistoning her hips, hard enough that the bed started to shake.

“or, just ditch them for tonight and spend your time with me.” paige grinned before sucking your neck.

you let out a loud cry, both of your arms were grabbing paige’s back, kneading your acrylic nails on her back as the blonde winced at the pain.

“shit, ‘m so close…” you moaned on her ear so sensually—making paige clenched her jaw while you pressed your upper body against hers. “please… mmh, let me cum…”

skin slapping against skin. the lewd feeling of cum dripping down your thighs, the idea that you wouldn’t be able to even walk properly motivated paige even more instead of getting worn out.

paige immediately slowed down her pace, holding your hips on the mattress with a tight grip as she straightened her body. you cursed in irritation when the feeling of your climax faded away, you tried to grind your hips against her strap but the grip on your waist forcefully stopped you.

“seems so desperate, huh…” paige cooed after you let out a frustrated whine, “hold it until i say so.”

you pressed your nails on her biceps, “fuck you.”

paige let out a short laugh, “i’m already fucking you, baby.” you were about to open your mouth for a rebuttal until she held your knee, widening your legs even more before slamming her hips harder.

everything was suddenly happening too fast, the overwhelming pleasure shocked your body that you couldn’t do anything but cry and moan. you knew damn well that paige was always serious about her words.

you squeezed your eyes shut when paige lifted your lower back off the bed again, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl and arching your back.

paige admired you, licking her dried lips before biting it. you looked so beautiful underneath her, your plump lips that always captivate her eyes, your neck that was covered by her marks, and your teary eyes that were filled with lust while taking her strap so obediently.

“fuck!” you cried out when paige just decided to be the most menacing person in the room, bringing her thumb down to rub your clit so perfectly while slamming her strap inside you. “stop—ah… shit, p… it’s too much!”

paige didn’t answer you, she wanted to make you feel so good. so good that you’d forget everything except crying out her name.

she leaned her face down—closer to you that her lips were almost brushing against yours. “hold it, baby.” paige whispered on your lips, “or i won’t let you cum.”

you locked your gaze at her, after hearing what she just said made you pout. “please… i’ll be good to you, p.”

“mhmm,” paige hummed, “you should, baby. didn’t like your attitude for the whole day.”

a gasp pushed past from your lips, moaning when her grip tightened on your waist that was enough to leave a bruise. and paige began to pick her pace up more while you grip on her biceps.

“nghh fuck, please, please, please-!” you were losing it, you were going to lose it. with tears tracking down your face, your body sore and used—all you needed now was: “please, paige… i need it, wanna cum! wan’ it so bad…” you croak, babbling and sputtering on your saliva.

she pressed a soft kiss on your lips, “cum.”

paige’s body tensed against yours and a sob escaped your throat, long and ruined as she thrust once, twice more with a long groan as a warmth liquid exploded, making you squirt as your legs shook extremely around her waist.

she pulled the strap out from your pussy, all wet mixed with cum. you gasped for air while you let your legs open wide in front of paige, all numb and shaky.

you thought she was done, you thought she already went to the bathroom to clean yourselves up. not until paige pushed her two fingers inside you, making you flinch from the sensitivity.

“paige…” you whined as you felt your body couldn’t move an inch, paige licked a stripe on your clit before sucking it harshly. “m sensitive… i already came..”

paige held your legs, keeping them open while she continued eating you out. “just cleaning you out, baby.”

[robertsfloyd]

Present

oscar piastri hasn't presented yet. everybody around him has, you have, but he hasn't. there he is, stuck feeling all too human. until your heat begins, that is

part one

warnings: 18+, abo dynamics

oscar bit back a growl. "fuck," he hissed, his eyes falling shut. you just smelt so damn good. his cock tented his jeans. fuck, this wasn't good. not here, not at the track.

but he couldn't stop herself as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. he breathed in your scent, almost getting drunk off of it.

it was so damn dizzying. sweet, honey, you. your familiar scent, but it was so much more than that.

whimpering, you pressed your nose against his neck. you could open your mouth, press a bite to where his claiming mark should be. it would have been so easy, just sink your teeth down and he's yours.

yours.

yours.

YOURS.

"mine," you managed through your whimper.

a growl tore from oscar's throat as he tightened his grip on you. his control was slipping as his teeth moved over the spot where your shoulder met your neck.

god, his first rut and he was ready to claim someone. not just someone. you. the girl he used to keep protected from asshole alphas that got too close. the girl he used his lack of designation to take care of when you were in pre-heat, getting you food and snacks to keep you going as you went through it.

here he was, ready to claim you. he didn't even have you consent and he was ready to sink his teeth in, to claim you, to make you his.

his teeth touched your neck and you sucked in a breath, almost like you were ready for it. like you wanted it.

no.

his mind wasn't all the way gone, not yet. he pressed his forehead against your shoulder and sucked in a breath. bad idea; he just breathed you in.

"sweetheart," he whispered as he dropped your hands to your waist. his touch more gentler than it had been a moment ago. the whimper you released wasn't one of need. well, not of sexual need, really. no, you needed him, but you needed him to hold you, to take care of you. "i need to get you out of here."

he stood up and your brain turned to mush. towering over you as you sat down, broad shoulders blocking out the light behind him. "alpha," you couldn't stop yourself from crying out, reaching for him. your fingers brushed his waist but oscar stepped away.

he didn't want you. this alpha didn't want you. your omega cried as you pulled your knees up to your chest.

an omega, distressed and upset. oscar's alpha scratched at the mental bars of his cage, desperate to get to the upset and distressed omega.

he was on you within moments, pushing you back against the sofa. he climbed over you, caging you in with his arms. his lips were on you, insistent and desperate. he was doing everything he could to sooth your omega, to stop her from crying out.

you couldn't help it as you wrapped your legs around him, keeping him trapped. "omega," oscar growled out against your lips. and then he accidentally grinded his hips against you. fuck, big mistake.

his drivers room filled with a heady smell. overwhelming to everybody that walked past, but neither of you knew. the smell of alpha and omega, desperate to be locked together. everybody that walked past the drivers room sped up their steps to get away from it.

everybody but mark.

attending this race weekend had been a last minute decision for oscar's manager. but, as soon as he took in the smell outside of oscars drivers room, he knew it was the right decision.

as soon as he threw open the door, oscar released a growl. he dropped his body onto you, keeping you protected from whoever came into the room. in his pre-rut haze, he couldn't see who it was.

not until mark scruffed him.

oscars body went limp on top of you. you whimpered as you held him, eyes wide as you kept him on top of you.

"hey," mark said gently as he grabbed oscar from on top of you. it wasn't easy to get his limp body over his shoulder, but mark still did it. he didn't let the strain show on his face as he held oscar. "i'm gonna get you somewhere safe."

when he took oscar, you followed. the cramping in your stomach returned with your alpha so far away from you. just a few steps ahead as mark took the two of you to a car. he had to be quick, had to get you both to somewhere safe. what happened then was none of his business.

in the back of the car, oscar began coming to. he opened his eyes, staring at you. slowly, he blinked.

his omega.

he breathed in, desperate for you. but it wasn't just you. there was something else, too. mark. but he didn't realise it was mark. all he knew was that another alpha was near. another alpha was near his omega.

his growled as he pulled you closer. "alpha," you whimpered when he held you again.

mark sped up.

getting you both up to oscar's hotel room wasn't easy. oscar had an alpha growl for the first time in his life, but he didn't know how to use it. didn't realise how powerful it was to the omegas and betas in the hotel lobby.

as powerful as oscars growl was, marks was more powerful. his growl controlled oscar, led him into the elevator. he couldn't get in with you, couldn't risk being in such an enclosed space with an omega in heat and an alpha in rut.

neither of you remembered getting to oscars hotel room. but you were on the bed and he was on top of you, lips kissing down your neck. "omega," he growled between each kiss. "omega." he pulled away slightly, but you were still trapped beneath him. "my omega."

the heat was still clouding your mind when you held his neck, fingers resting where his mating claim should be. where your bite mark should be. "my alpha," you said through an omega growl. "my alpha."

a/n: part 3?

[sharklovingaquarist]

Not surprising this is a one piece fan. Hey buddy, since you think feminists need to coddle you while women in Afghanistan are being told they cant TALK to each other anymore, let me hold your hand and read you some facts about mental health as a DIAGNOSED bipolar woman.

Statistically, while men kill themselves more, women attempt suicide more than men do. This can be attributed to men having more access to firearms and other lethal methods.

PTSD affects women more than men, but when you are introduced to PTSD it's often in the context of veterans

Women are more likely to be misdiagnosed when it comes to mental phenomena like autism, bipolar disorder, and cluster b disorders

And let's not forget post partum depression and psychosis, something men don't even know exists half the time.

I seriously did not get refused bipolar disorder medication due to being female all to hear some dude, who thinks it's an atrocity for males to experience human emotion, say that men have it SOOOO MUCH WORSE because they get sad sometimes and women dont cater to them anymore. I didn't get passed off as crazy while crying at the hospital because one of the staff harassed me all to hear men, who as swaddled like infants, cry about themselves whilst saying WE are selfish.

Men dont understand how much logic and basic critical thinking they lack. When men try to argue or make a point, that becomes so incredibly clear to me. You've only been able to ponder existence and comfort within our own perspective. Meanwhile, women are being refused hysterectomies because we're considered your breeding stock... and you don't think that harms our mental health? No, because the irony of that is, you don't see us as humans. Males are walking contradictions. You scream and shit your diapers about how you can't cry (even though emotional complexity and philosophy has been worded from the eyes of men for as long as it's existed) and how inhuman it is for you, and then turn around and normalize not seeing women within the same context of humanity.

Liberal feminists were the ones that gave you this rhetoric anyways. They took feminisms own wording and twisted it for you. You didn't even do the work, in such male fashion. And then in such male fashion YOU CLAIM ITS WOMEN WHO DONT CARE ABOUT YOU... WHAT!? And that also proves how women have to feed you like fucking 2 year olds. Yall are so braindead from being babied that you can't see how bad you are at lying.

Men are so fucking lazy. You all just regurgitate everything you hear. Listen, bud, society will always cater to your being. Therefore, stats will be worded in order to cater to your emotions. What do men have to be sad about compared to women? You can't get a girlfriend? Imagine your husband of 10 years leaving you after you get cancer. Get off your ass, and do some research on actual stats. Claiming women are these evil selfish creatures is so ironic, so ironic it's hard to wrap my head around. Women are being raped and killed, but you want me to care about one statistic that is worded to victimize you?

When you wake up and see that men act no different than 5 year old children, it's laughable. Laughable yet, it makes you want to rip your hair out. Look at your post I'm replying to. You're filled with emotion. You can state the simplest shit that isn't even true and be believed. But when women are raped 1 in 4 by MEN, it's actually not all men, and we need to believe the good ones... shut the fuck up you spoiled brat. You are so bloated from being spoonfed that you can't even see your misogyny and self-absorption.

All you prove to me is how desperate you pigs are to have your emotional support women back. Have a wife as a toy that strokes your hair and cleans your dishes and cooks your food and carries your child like she's a god damn slave while you turn a blind eye. Remind me who was more likely to get a lobotomy? Remind me who hysteria targeted. Men can ignore basic facts but use one statistic out of context, and suddenly, it's a law of nature. Going into the feminist movement and saying women are selfish because they dont care about a made-up issue without even looking at it, it factual really shows the priorities within male brains to me. You've always portrayed women as more mentally simplistic and animal. You still THINK that subconsciously or not, yet you expect me to care about a fantasy you made up because you can't handle not getting attention?

Women have never been portrayed as complex people you always have, keep it cute, and keep it mute, you hypocrite

men supporters are like it's so unfair that women get to cry and cut themselves and men are only allowed to show their feelings by mass shooting

[minswriting]

sex with hotch while he has the vest on 🤭 holding onto the straps on his side for dear life as he fucks into you 🤭🤭 he still has all of his clothes on but his pants are pulled down just enough for his cock because he couldn’t wait to fuck you 🤭🤭🤭

AHHHHHH you’ve got me fucked up thinking about this man. i’m also so tired so if this sucks im so sorry lol

nsfw | mdni | aaron hotchner x reader | no foreplay, unprotected sex, quickies

just thinking about how you guys would be getting back to the Bureau, still dressed in the bulletproof vests because you didn’t have any time to take them off. and aaron just looks so unbelievably attractive in a bulletproof vest, ESPECIALLY when he’s wearing just a polo underneath.

the adrenaline from the intense situation was still high in everyone as everyone walked inside, finally taking off their vests and such. except, when no one is looking, you drag aaron into the bathroom before he could take his vest off because you just desperately needed him right then and there. you locked the door behind you.

nothing was spoken between either of you. the adrenaline and desperation just encased the two of you as he pulled down his pants just enough for you to take his cock. and you took your pants off completely to allow aaron full access. “couldn’t wait until later, baby?” he’d murmur into your ear as he placed you onto the sink counter.

you shook your head no, wrapping your arms around aaron’s neck. “need you so bad,” you whispered back.

aaron hummed, grabbing his cock and lining it up to your pussy. he teased you slightly, running his cock along your slit. “how are you so wet?” he whispered, pressing kisses onto your neck.

“you’re so hot,” you whispered back, letting out a shaky breath when aaron lines himself up at your hole. and when he starts to ease himself into you, it took everything in your power to not moan as neither of you wanted to raise suspicion.

and when aaron is fully inside of you, he doesn’t hesitate to fuck you hard and fast. you guys were in the bathroom in a government owned building. there was no time to take things slowly like you usually did. your hands moved down to aaron’s vest, grabbing the straps that were on the side and gripping them as aaron slammed his hips into you.

you leaned forward to bury your head into his shoulder, trying to silent any noises that threatened to come out. only the tiniest of whimpers left your mouth as aaron’s cock fucked you thoroughly.

“fuck, you feel so good, princess,” aaron whispered, breathing heavily into your ear. you wrapped your legs around him, bringing him deeper into you.

you let out a small whine, causing you to slap a hand over your mouth. the desperation in aaron’s thrusts was so much. his cock hit your sweet spot with every move, making it so hard for you not to moan like a whore. “i-i’m so close,” you whispered, your breathing shaky.

“me too.”

it didn’t take long for either of you to cum. the pure neediness that you both felt overpowered anything else. you came so hard that you were scared that you hurt aaron’s cock with how hard you were clenching around him. but the small whimper he let out showed you that he loved the feeling as not even two seconds later, he was spilling his seed inside of you.

and with a small kiss to your lips, aaron pulled out and tucked himself back into his pants. the both of you took a minute to catch your breaths. “i’ll see you out there in a few minutes,” aaron whispered before kissing your lips once more. he unlocked the bathroom door and walked out, closing the door behind him.

you quickly grabbed your pants, pulling them back on. and after about five minutes, you walked out of the bathroom as well. aaron was in his office, already had taken the vest off, as if he didn’t just fuck you in the bathroom not even ten minutes ago.

which was alright because when you guys got home, you rode him on the couch, showing him just how needy you really were at seeing him in his bulletproof vest.

[bosbas]

Chapter 7: I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 2.0k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, mentions of pregnancy, ANGST!!!!!

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

July 13, 1812 - Waking up the past few days had been absolute torture. But waking up today and seeing the blood on your sheets was worse than any morning you’d ever had. 

A part of you was relieved. You had gotten your courses. You weren’t with child. You didn’t have to trap Anthony in a loveless marriage.

It was good news, right?

That’s what you were desperately repeating to yourself over and over as you sat in your bed sobbing uncontrollably. 

It truly was over then. There was no baby, and there would be no marriage. You’d be lucky if Anthony ever talked to you again, though you wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. All because you thought it would be a fun game to dabble with someone’s real feelings.

What's more, your courses actually came a few days early. It was like the universe was completely and categorically rejecting the idea of a happy ending with Anthony. It was what you deserved, you supposed. At least the misery of not knowing was over.

To make matters worse, your crying was so loud that your father popped his head into your room, an extremely unusual occurrence. 

“What is all this ruckus?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”

Not having the time, energy, or desire to fully explain what was happening, and doubting he’d care, you told your father, “My courses came.”

“Oh,” he said, suddenly growing very uncomfortable. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

Predictable. He wasn’t one to get involved with women’s issues.

---

You had given yourself a few hours to mope around your home, mourning the loss of what could have been. But it was time to face your fears, and you headed over to the Bridgerton residence.

It was usually only a few minutes' walk, but you were dreading the impending conversation so much that it was almost fifteen minutes before you reached their front door.  

What scared you the most was that you had no idea how Anthony was going to take the news. You knew the responsibility was yours to go to the Bridgerton home and inform him, but you hadn’t seen him or Daphne since the day after your fateful ball.

As you reached their front entrance, before you could even knock, the door burst open and you saw Anthony standing in front of you. 

Not that you were in a position to enjoy it, but he looked exceedingly handsome. He was clearly on his way out to go to town, and you didn’t know whether to curse or thank the universe for putting him in front of you before he left for the day. 

“Oh!” you gasped, startled. “Um, hello, Anthony,” you greeted awkwardly. 

He just stared back, unmoving. He hadn’t been expecting to talk to you for at least a few more days and was entirely unprepared now.

“Daphne’s just inside,” he said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. 

“No, I’m here to speak with you, actually.”

“Oh,” he said simply, not giving away what he was feeling. It hadn't even been a week! Surely there was no news yet? Surely he could still hold out some hope?

He stepped outside and closed the door, allowing you two some privacy for the conversation you were about to have.

“I- Well, I just wanted to inform you that my courses came this morning,” you said, your voice wavering. 

“Oh,” he repeated. 

Was that really all he was going to say?

You cleared your throat stiffly. “And evidently no one saw us sneak off to the library the other night, otherwise we’d have heard the rumors by now.” A pause. “I suppose this means you won’t need to propose, then. And we can go our own ways.”

It was like your words ignited something in Anthony, and he finally moved to cross his arms in front of his chest, a prominent scowl on his face. 

“I suppose it does. Congratulations. Your little plan worked perfectly, then. Daphne was able to court a scumbag while you distracted me and remained perfectly detached.”

His angry words cut you deep. Almost out of habit when you needed comfort, you reached out for his broken hand that was still bandaged. He took a step back, almost looking panicked as he eyed your outstretched arm. 

You felt tears welling in your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. You deserved no sympathy from the man in front of you.

Blinking them away, you sniffed. “Anthony, I know nothing I say will ever make it up to you but I truly am sorry. It was never my intention to let it go on for so long.”

“And yet you did.”

“I did,” you replied, feeling ashamed. “But you must know, the time we did have together-”

But Anthony interrupted before you could continue. “I’ll be moving into bachelor’s lodgings as soon as possible. That way our paths won’t have to cross again unless there’s a big family event. I wish you the best in your future endeavors, and I sincerely hope you find a love match eventually.”

You choked back a sob. “Is this truly the last time we’ll talk?”

“I can hope,” he responded, cruelly echoing back the words you had said to him a few days ago. 

And with that, he pushed past you down the stairs, going toward his waiting carriage, not sparing you a second glance.

You were left crying outside of the Bridgertons’ door, head in your hands as you realized the gravity of Anthony’s statement. 

That was exactly how Violet found you twenty minutes later. 

“Oh no, my Y/N, what happened?” she asked, placing a comforting arm around your shoulders. 

You could only turn and sob into her shoulder, too shaken up to form any coherent words. 

Violet, bless her, rubbed your back soothingly as she led you back into her home, her afternoon of shopping completely forgotten now.

“Why don’t we ring for some tea and you can talk to me and Daphne about what’s bothering you?”

An hour later you had calmed down considerably and Daphne was in the middle of apologizing profusely for telling Anthony while Violet tried to process the information her daughter and her best friend had just divulged. You had scrubbed any mention of your escapade with Anthony from the story you told his mother, of course. But most other details remained accurate.

“It’s not your fault,” you waved away Daphne’s apology. “You only told him the truth. He was going to find out eventually, one way or another.”

“But it was my idea in the first place!” she insisted. “And a stupid one at that, seeing how things ended with Phillip.”

“Which we are not done discussing,” interjected Violet, still horrified that someone like him could treat her daughter that way. 

“Regardless, I would have come up with the idea myself and gone through with it if you hadn't,” you reassured her. “What’s done is done. I’m only sorry he’ll be leaving home.”

Daphne laughed and shook her head. “He’d been wanting to leave for ages. Besides, it’ll be nice to have some more peace and quiet around here.”

Always one to stay on topic, Violet kept up her line of questioning. “Why don’t the two of you get married still? Your feelings for him are clearly real, no matter how you ended up having them.”

Surprisingly, tears welled up in your eyes again After the day you’d had, you didn’t think you had any left in you, but the situation was just too dire not to cry over it. “He told me earlier he wishes to never speak with me again.”

Violet gasped. “That can’t be right, he would never say such a thing!”

You could only nod glumly, remembering his cold, uncaring eyes as he moved past you earlier that day. 

“I just can’t believe I ruined it all,” you cried. “It would have been so wonderful if only I hadn’t acted so carelessly.”

Violet tsked. “You wouldn’t have even looked at him in a romantic light if it weren’t for your silly plan. Who knows if things would have really been different.”

“At least I wouldn’t have a broken heart,” you said softly, wistfully looking out the window. 

“There is simply no world in which he can just forget how he feels about you,” insisted Daphne, trying to stay hopeful. 

“There’s nothing left,” you said, well aware of the situation you were in and rejecting any fantasies that would make you feel better temporarily. “I made the choices I made and I must live with them now.”

---

“Why is Y/N never round for dinner anymore?” asked Hyacinth suddenly one night. 

“Yes, I miss playing chess with her before I go to bed. No one else here seems to want to play,” complained Gregory, in a rare moment of agreement with his youngest sister.

“She does seem to have very suddenly stopped showing up,” said Francesca. She eyed Daphne and Anthony suspiciously, knowing one of the two was bound to be the cause of your absence. 

“Well, I certainly didn’t tell her to stop coming,” said Daphne, glaring at her older brother. 

Anthony laughed coldly. “That’s rich coming from you. You know exactly why she stopped showing up, and it’s not exactly my fault.”

“Anthony!” exclaimed Violet, shocked at the sudden outburst of anger.

“Forget it,” he grumbled, standing up from the dinner table and storming off to his study.

A few moments later, Violet knocked on the door of Anthony’s study, not waiting for a response before she slipped in and closed the door behind her. 

“You’re not truly angry,” she stated, not even posing it as a question.

“Yes, I am,” Anthony insisted. 

“Your anger conceals something deeper, and it might do you some good to let it out.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Anthony responded, but his voice lacked his previous conviction. “I am angry,” he repeated, his voice breaking as he tried to convince himself of his feelings. 

“It’s not a crime to feel things for someone, you know. Even when they don’t work out.”

“What is the point then? If they amount to nothing?” Anthony pressed, struggling to find a greater reason for the complete heartbreak he felt day in and day out. 

It was torture to be away from you, to be sure. But he knew he would never be able to hold it together if he saw you in the flesh. Regardless, that didn’t stop him from missing you. Your rosy perfume. The way you threw your head back when you laughed. How tightly your hands held his hand when you were anxious about something.

And that was what killed him. He’d had real and profound feelings for you. He thought that was it. That you were it. He’d thought he'd found the person he was going to marry. He’d found his present and his future and everything in betweem.

But it had all been a lie. And so the anger kept coming back. And he could do nothing to stop it. 

It was misplaced anger, he knew. At you, at the world, at the fact that your courses had come and you would not have his child, and at the fact that he could never have you in a way that truly mattered. 

“That is exactly what makes you human, Anthony. You can’t go around life expecting to never be hurt. It’s a rare thing to feel that way about someone.”

“Good. I’m glad it’s rare. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.”

“Anthony!” Violet gasped, scandalized. “Love is not a curse.”

“It certainly feels like one.”

“You could still be with her, you know. All this misplaced love, it’ll do you no good to keep it bottled up.”

“I can’t,” insisted Anthony, his voice breaking again. “I wanted to marry her still. I even asked her. I thought she’d love me back if I only had some time to convince her. But she didn’t want to marry me,” he confessed, succumbing to his feelings and putting his head in his hands as he cried. 

“Why don’t you try talking to her again?” suggested Violet, rubbing her son’s back comfortingly. 

“I can’t,” he replied, rubbing his eyes. “It’s for the better.”

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

Turn on post notifications for @bosbas-library to stay updated when I post!

[htaesan]

　ᅠ ✿　ᅠ NOT THAT I CARE OR ANYTHING　　────　ᅠ ( han taesan )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀your ex, seemingly sweet anton, spreads malicious rumours about you that could potentially ruin your entire academic weapon career, so you have to take desperate measures𑁋and that includes a fake-dating contract and the bane of your existence, han taesan.

　　　ᅠ 한태산 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 13k ⠀ genre college au fluff angst if you squint one sided rivals to lovers academic weapon x campus crush ⠀ contains mentions of food vulgar words skinship pet names several ocs ⠀ note i’m sorry if this fic is.. all over the place a bit coz,, yea!! but this fic is highly.. self-indulgent.. heheh! and i originally wanted to make this more angsty but i’m already sad and single so, No! anyways, enjoy reading ^_^ ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

“ALRIGHT. Let’s do it.”

As you gaze into Taesan’s determined eyes, the entire series of events flashes through your mind. 

It was back in your first year of university—early winter, the day of the first snowfall. You were walking towards the three-floor library, the cold wind stinging your eyes. You rushed inside, grateful for the gush of artificial warm air that greeted you as soon as the doors closed behind you. The library was quite packed for some reason, and you could barely spot any empty seats.

You walked towards the edge of the library, a corner with the largest window of the level. There it was—one of the only empty seats in the entire library—but that seat was next to a boy, heavily occupied with his studies. Your pace slowed down as you hesitated. The boy had a focused blank look on his face, his headphones on, and several papers and notebooks were scattered on the table around him.

You felt like you wanted to just leave and go back to your room, but remembering how cold it was outside, you decided against it. 

After taking a deep breath, you approached him. With a shaky smile, you tapped the boy’s shoulder, muttering a silent prayer. 

“Excuse me,” you said as he lowered his headphones to his neck. “May I sit here? I-I mean, if it’s cool with you..”

He simply nodded. “Sure.”

You had sat down next to the mysterious boy for the entire day, not knowing that, in the present, he would be the bane of your existence. 

In this moment, you’re brought back to the present, startled at how you’re standing in front of him. The mysterious boy that you had sat next to turned out to be Han “Taesan” Dongmin—KOZ School of Law’s campus crush. There’s almost nothing “bad” that you’re heard of him, yet, when you find yourself walking towards him with a fiery determination in your eyes—you immediately know that you’re about to get hit with something you’d never expect. 

“A-are you sure?” you say, surprised to even find yourself stuttering. You’ve held yourself to such a high reputation—being your school’s academic weapon—you’ve worked hard to keep yourself true to that name. 

Well, to be fair, you didn’t expect Taesan to even say yes to your ridiculous plan—given that all that’s he’s ever done for you is say everything that will get on your nerves.

Taesan gives you a smirk. “Of course,” he says, clearing his throat. “Being the boyfriend of KOZ Academy’s academic weapon isn’t something you get to do everyday.”

The way he presses the emphasis on the word ‘boyfriend’ makes you flinch. It reminds you of your stupid plan; who in their right mind would offer Han Taesan—your rival—a fake dating deal just to make rumours about themselves go away?

“Right,” you roll your eyes. “Anyway, I think we need to enforce some guidelines and boundaries regarding this… set-up.”

Taesan shoves his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight to let himself stand more comfortably. The smirk still on his face, he replies, “alright. Hit me with all of ‘em.”

You whip your phone out, quickly showing him a document that you spent an entire night typing out—complete with every single thing he needed to do for you. 

“Here,” you say, frustrated at how Taesan’s smug smirk just never falters. 

Taesan runs a hand through his hair before leaning down to read through the document displayed on your phone. He finishes reading it quickly, taking a step closer to you after. He doesn’t say anything for a while, only to startle you by abruptly saying, “I agree.”

“What–?” you blurt out, surprised once again. You thought that Taesan would be more picky than– 

“Your terms are easy for me to do. However,” you narrow your eyes at the boy who’s towering in front of you. Of course he’s picky—he’s Taesan. “I’d like you to agree to my conditions as well. If I have to do some things for you, you’d have to do some things for me too.”

You sigh before nodding. How hard could it be? Besides, this whole ‘relationship’ you’re having with Taesan is merely a fake dating set-up. 

“Okay.”

Taesan whips out a full-blown smug smirk, making you roll your eyes. He pushes his glasses up his nose bridge, holding out two fingers. 

“First, you have to also put in the effort to make things real. Like, wearing my jersey when I have basketball games, and wearing my initials ‘round your neck,” he pushes his middle finger down, the smug grin still plastered on his face, “and secondly, you’ll have to let me kiss you anytime.”

The moment the word ‘kiss’ escapes his mouth, you choke on thin air. 

Why is my plan backfiring on me? 

“What? No–”

Taesan shrugs. “Basically, physical contact is allowed to be done anytime.”

You feel your face flush, immediately recalling the third condition that you showed Taesan. No physical affection unless needed. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that—it’s clashing with my third term.”

“But your first term: ‘the other party must always do his utmost best to make the relationship seem real’ exists, am I right?” Taesan objects relaxedly. “Then, my second term doesn’t clash with that. And I also do believe that that first term of yours comes before the rest. Am I right?”

You grit your teeth, sucking in a sharp breath. How could you forget? Taesan will always work to have the last word—be that in court or in conversations. 

Plus, he’s not entirely wrong. 

Though, you’ve never been someone who lets Taesan win willingly. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, your heart twisting in detest at the way Taesan’s face lights up with a smirk again. 

“Then, we have a deal?” Taesan asks. 

You stare into his dark brown eyes once again, registering what you’re about to commit yourself to. All just to get rid of your ex and the rumour he’s pulled you into. 

You hold out your hand, Taesan gladly reciprocating. 

“Deal.”

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

IT didn’t hit you that you’re officially Han Taesan’s girlfriend that night. However, the next morning, right after the two of you signed the document at the coffee shop you always study at—it hit you like a million bricks from the sky. 

You’re in a “relationship” with the person you loathed the most for the past year. The exact same man who everyone adores, who’s called the it-boy, the campus crush—is now your most “beloved”. Freshman you would rather jump off a cliff than to offer her nemesis a fake-dating pact. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I guess. 

“Here,” Taesan hands you a velvet box—one that obviously contains jewellery of some sort. 

Of course. Han Taesan’s always prepared. 

You let out a deep sigh, knowing what’s inside. Despite that, you ask, “what’s this?”

Taesan gives you a grin, one that you always see him don during the countable times that he beats you in quizzes. “Open it—I’m sure you’ll like it.”

You run your fingers around the edges of the velvety box, sceptical at Taesan’s sudden soft tone. “Don’t talk to me like that,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. 

Taesan, instead of immediately throwing a scoff in your face, simply leans back into his seat with a chuckle. 

Not waiting for whatever reply he’s preparing to throw to you, you open the box. Your eyes lay upon a beautiful, dainty necklace with a “H.D” pendant, nested elegantly in the box. You bite back a gasp, though you’re unable to hide your surprise. The silver necklace is one of the most beautiful pieces of jewellery you’ve yet to lay your eyes upon—it’s dainty and simple, yet it screams elegance in the best way possible. 

You look up at Taesan, obviously bug-eyed. “What- I’m- thank you?”

Taesan throws his head back, laughing. He perches an eyebrow up, clearly amused. “What am I supposed to answer? ‘You’re welcome’?”

Oh. It’s part of his terms. 

You glare at him. 

Not missing a beat, Taesan says with a big grin on his face, “what is your lazy ass waiting for? Put it on—or do you need me to help with that?”

You massage your temples, tempted to stick your tongue out at him, hissing the obvious at him—that you do not want to wear his initials around your neck. 

“I don’t need your help,” you say between gritted teeth, harshly yanking the necklace from the box. You swiftly clasp the necklace around your neck, secretly surprised that you’re able to do so. 

Maintaining a glare, you retort, “I’m only wearing this stupid necklace because it’s part of your terms.”

You throw your gaze elsewhere, Taesan laughing his stomach out in the background. Why is he finding your irritated state so funny? 

The pendant feels cold against your skin, sending tingles. You gulp, feeling odd. You hadn’t announced your ‘relationship’ to your friends yet—but seeing you with Taesan’s initials could certainly start rumours. 

A part of you is jumping with triumph—your plan is starting to set its course, while another part of you is afraid of it all. What if you’re finally not good at something, no matter how much you try—pretending you’re in love with your rival, the bane of your existence?

“We’ll start slow,” you hear Taesan say, pulling you back into reality. You quickly morph into your stoic expression—one that you find yourself often putting up around people. “Like everyone else does. Soft launch.”

“Ah,” you manage, nodding. “Sounds good.”

“Even though that necklace certainly is a big jump for a soft launch,” Taesan voices, chuckling. His words cause you to narrow your eyes at him, hyper aware of the cold metal against your skin—a mark that Taesan managed to place on you. 

It’s all fake, you chant to yourself. Once Anton gets the message, it’ll all be over. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THE past few weeks had been a blur. Nothing was out of the ordinary—you attended classes, performed mootings and sent in assignments like usual. Though, only one thing that was out of the routine.

Taesan no longer felt like a thorn to your side. 

You still hate him—you despise the way he carries himself, so proud and confident. You wish you could punch his face for the way he’s so smooth with his words, the way that his charm works on everyone so well. You absolutely hate the way a handsome idiot like him had the potential to beat you in every single subject if you slacked for even a minute. 

Yet, to the public, he’s your boyfriend. 

A cliche: rivals to lovers, they say. 

Despite being the one proposing the whole fake dating plan, you had been the one following Taesan’s itinerary so far. The two of you had finally exchanged phone numbers, and at night, Taesan would always send a list of ideas on how to make the soft launch more obvious day by day. 

The first week, you found yourself wearing tops that highlighted the H.D pendant, styling your hair to make it more noticeable—you even went as far as attending Taesan’s birthday celebration to top the chances of people noticing the pendant. And Taesan didn’t inform you of this one, but you often found him telling his friends, yours, or random coursemates to pass you drinks and snacks. You had no idea how Taesan had gotten the list of all your favourite things to munch on, but you secretly did enjoy the free flow of snacks. Anton had passed you a snack from Taesan too—five packs of your favourite Choco Pie. You couldn’t forget the bewildered face Anton had as he passed them to you, eyes filled with question and a hint of jealousy.  

“What’s up with Han?” he asked.

You shoved the Choco Pies into your shoulder bag, biting back a smile. Who wouldn’t be jolly after getting five of their favourite tidbits? 

“How would I know?” you replied bitterly. You quickly turn away from Anton, the uncomfortable feeling of being around him overpowering the bubbly feeling you had from getting snacks. 

“Well, those Choco Pies are from him,” Anton repeated for the second time. “And I don’t recall him being anything but hostile to you.”

You suppress a scoff. “Maybe he’s had a change of heart? His brain is probably tired of coming up with things to try and outsmart me,” you muttered. As if. 

“Well, if anything—if that asshole tries to do anything to you, I’ll… be here for you, Y/N,” Anton said, taking a step closer. Your eyes widened and your jaw clenched. You quickly finished packing your bag up, swinging it over your shoulders. 

You said that last time, too. 

“Don’t talk to me, Anton,” you responded as monotony as possible before running out of the lecture hall, not giving Anton even a glance. 

The following weeks, Taesan was hanging out with you even more than the previous week. He wasn’t being too obvious, but to you, him walking slightly behind you and not throwing a loud sarcastic remark was already an apparent sign that would show everyone that your dynamics had changed. 

Anton had found yet another chance to corner you after a Public International Law lecture. You stayed back in the hall to reread your theoretical essay before sending it in. Behind you, Taesan was packing up his things, busy scrolling through something in his phone. 

“Hi, Y/N,” you froze when Anton’s voice reached your ear drums. 

You look up at him with a glare. “What do you want?”

Anton flashed his usual pitiful, soft smile. “Nothing. Just a meal with you—this week has been quite stressful for you, right? I heard that last Monday’s mooting was rough.”

“You’re not even a law student, Anton,” you seethed. The KOZ School of Business student ID card hanging on Anton’s neck looked extremely out of place amongst the ocean of law students. “Please kindly get lost, go back to the Business building.”

“My course mates are boring. Besides, you’re more fun to be around,” Anton replied. “I know we… haven’t been on good terms, but give me a chance to fix it all?”

You gritted your teeth, your hands beginning to shake. 

The audacity of this boy… where is my stupid fake boyfriend when I need him–?

“I think she clearly said for you to get lost, bud.”

You fought back a grin. Finally. 

“Han?” Anton tilted his head. “Wait– who are you to tell me that?”

Taesan stood next to you, his backpack dangling from one shoulder. His height towered significantly above you, making you standing right below his shoulders—enough to match Anton. “Who do you think I am?”

Anton’s eyes darted towards the pendant on your décolletage, his eyes bulging. “What the…” you heard him mutter under his breath. 

Taesan seemed to notice this too, and he swiftly pulled you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “So, get it now? Get lost, Lee, and give your ex some space. An ex is an ex for a reason.”

Anton then left with a fuming expression, leaving you in fits of relieved laughter after. You thanked Taesan, who simply responded with a polite smile. 

“By the end of this, don’t forget the wish, yeah?” he said, before walking out of the lecture hall. 

You stood there, blinking profusely. You had completely forgotten the last clause of your agreement with Taesan—once you were satisfied with his service, you had to grant him one wish. Anything that he wanted. 

You face palmed yourself. Why didn’t you think twice before typing that down? You mentally made a note to yourself to prepare your wallet for the outrageous request that the thorn in your side would make later on. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

“ARE you and Taesan dating?” 

Sophia’s question makes you almost spit your lunch through your nose. 

“What?”

“Girl, don’t you dare pretend not,” Yunjin interrupts, pointing her spoon at you. “You literally have his initials as a necklace that you never take off! H.D., which means Han Dongmin, right? Isn’t that his real name?”

“It’s not like–”

“No, no. It’s so obvious! Taesan’s around you more now, and he even gave you a birthday present!”

Sophia smiles, “he looks at you so differently now!” 

Yunjin laughs, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, that too, I guess,” she then looks at you, directly in the eyes, “I guess Han Taesan and Y/N L/N have finally begun their lovers era, huh?”

You feel your cheeks warming up, and guilt fills your chest. You draw a sharp inhale before telling the girls the full story. And subconsciously, your fingers find the pendant, playing with it. 

“It’s fake,” you sigh, “I mean, not the necklace—he’s just pretending. I’m pretending, too. None of this is… real.”

Sophia gasps and Yunjin frowns. 

“Are you… sure? What for?” Sophia asks.

Yunjin nods in agreement. “I’ve always thought that dude had feelings for you, but I… I didn’t realise it’s actually wrong and my deductions were totally off.”

You scoff, though Yunjin’s words left you wondering. “Taesan doesn’t like me—have you girls seen how he treats me?”

“He treats you well,” Yunjin states plainly, shoving a spoonful of rice into her mouth. 

“No,” you immediately shake your head, “he hates seeing me happy! He always finds a way to stick his annoying nose into my life, mocking me. He’s like always, always there to only laugh at my face.” 

“Then why did he agree?” Sophia asks. 

“To what?”

“To fake date you,” she continues, taking a sip of her yakult. “Well, I’m sure you have a plan—a contract and all—don’t you?”

Your eyes widen. How do these two girls know you so well? 

“Yeah. I do. I’m doing all this because of Anton,” the look on your friends’ faces makes you feel a little relieved, “I need him to shut up about me.”

You recall the ridiculous rumour you’ve heard about you from Yunjin, that’s been going around like crazy—the rumour that you used to date Anton because he’s rich and that you used him as a bribe to get outstanding grades. Those close to you knew that is and would never become true—yet people are always jealous of others who have certain things better than them. 

It may seem like a small matter to some, but to you, it’s a matter of reputation. Your whole image and potentially, your graduation is at risk. What if the rumour reaches some professor and they report you? You couldn’t risk the huge amount of money and time you spent, only to be scrapped off the dean’s list due to some rumour. 

Yunjin herself had recorded proof of Anton trying to turn her against you, using that rumour. If she hadn’t shown you the recording, you wouldn’t have believed that sweet, kind Anton was the one who spread those malicious whispers about you.

Now, you’ve got to end it all. One way or another.

You continue finishing your lunch, Taesan somehow in mind. By the end of your lunch, you’re convinced that this is truly all an act—it’s nothing real, and in the end, you’re both just people who hate each other and use each other for selfish, personal reasons.

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

“DO I really have to wear your ugly varsity jacket?” Dongmin hears you grunt through the call. He stifles a laugh, tossing a ball up and down. 

“Obviously, you dimwit,” he replies, “you’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Dongmin lets himself smile. The word rolls off his tongue like a simple melody—it feels natural for him to say. He finds it odd, yet entertaining—your reaction is worth it all. Besides, it’s quite refreshing to take a break from hating you, sometimes. 

“Besides, your ex is going to be there,” Dongmin reminds, his voice more throaty than expected. “He’s on the team as well, remember?”

“Yeah,” he catches your quiet answer.  

“Anyway, how do you even have time for all this?” you question from the other end of the line. 

“Hmm,” Dongmin hums, “I do have time.” 

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” you hiss. “You’re in law school, Han Taesan.”

“What? Like it’s hard?”

Dongmin lets out a hearty laugh as he hears you gasp—one of the loudest and most genuine expressions he’s gotten out of you yet. 

“I’m so done with you,” you huff. Dongmin hears you shuffle through your closet, most likely finding something to wear. 

“You say that everytime,” Dongmin whispers to himself softly. 

“Anyway,” you announce loudly, “you better have some food for me once I arrive—I’m wearing your stupid varsity jacket.”

“Alright, sweetheart, anything for you,” Dongmin jests in a sing -song voice.

He hears you yelp in disgust, chuckling. “Yuck! Fuck off, Taesan!”

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

IT’S a friendly match, nothing serious, Taesan had said; yet you’re here amongst other significant others, to watch him and his team play against another school’s team. 

At the bleachers, you feel called out, and insanely out of place. Everyone looks so in love—girlfriends wearing jerseys with their boyfriends’ numbers and names on the back, painted their faces accordingly, and even cheering for them with their hearts; mothers and siblings gathering together to support their sons and brothers.

Everyone looks so genuinely in love, and you’re the only one who’s there just because you have to. You arrived only two minutes before the match started, too, because you obviously don’t love Taesan enough to be rescheduling your work shift to see him play.

You fidget with the edges of the varsity jacket you’re wearing, oddly feeling how it’s perfectly oversized on you. 

Earlier, Taesan had spotted you sitting awkwardly on the bleachers. He ran over to you, quickly handing you a quesadilla and a cup of bubble tea, before jogging back to the basketball court to warm up. He didn’t say anything, nor did you—but the gesture made you feel weirdly fuzzy. 

Taesan did actually get you some food, even though you grumpily yelled at him to do so. You thought he wouldn’t, just so that he could get on your nerves, just like he always does. 

You watch him and the team warm up, pumping up positive energy with each other. You take a bite of your quesadilla, trying to ease your heart—yet you just can’t forget the real reason why you’re here. 

Jersey number 35.

The whistle blows, indicating the start of the game, and you catch Anton’s glance at you. He gives you a wide smile, winking twice—a sign that he made up, thanking you for coming, just like the old days. You grimace, turning away.

The mission is to make it seem like I’m in love with Taesan. 

You intently watch Taesan play in the arena, his moves sharp and powerful. He slips through the opposition’s defense flawlessly, scoring goals smoothly. Every time he throws the ball, it gets into the hoop—people erupt in cheers and he’s surrounded by his teammates. 

And every time, Taesan looks up at you, flashing his signature smirk. His grin sparkles, lighting up the room—it makes you feel like you’re the only one in the huge arena. 

It makes you feel odd. 

Like there’s so much more under that grin he flashes to you every time he scores. 

You touch the pendant on your décolletage, the cold metal stinging against your skin. Your fingers trace the letters—the initials of Taesan’s birth name—reminding you this is all a set-up. You’re supposed to pretend, and Taesan is pretending too. 

He must be.

Taking a deep breath, you tug the varsity jacket closer to your body, shoving your hands into its pockets. The weight of Taesan’s name and number lay heavy on your back, yet you don a bright smile—trying your best to show your support for him. 

Right now, you’re Han Taesan’s girlfriend. Player number 11’s girlfriend.

The match ends with Anton’s final goal, and KOZ Academy’s team wins 115-113. The entire gym erupts in waves of cheer and heartfelt hugs, every attending person feeling proud of their team, losing or not. You jog down the stairs, heading towards Taesan, whose height stands out in the crowd. 

When you reach the end of the stairs, you notice Anton’s gaze on you. You glance at him, the weight of past memories dragging you down. At the end of these exact same stairs, you used to run straight to Anton, engulfing him in a hug after a match. You used to kiss his cheek, congratulating him for a successful game. You used to feel like your entire world revolved around him, and that you would be happy with him. 

But that was in the past. Now, you can look at Anton with nothing in your heart. You feel nothing but plain resentment—damning him for the things he did to you. You had thought he was the love of your life, that you’d grow old with him—but Anton had other plans, and another girl that he prioritised more than you. 

You turn your head away, directing your gaze towards Taesan. He’s talking to his friends, his hair wet from the sweat. He’s grinning proudly, talking about something that’s interesting to boys. 

You sigh. Hopefully this whole set-up works—Anton leaves you alone, the rumours die down, and you can go back to bashing Taesan’s head. 

And hopefully, you can move on, too. Once and for all.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Anton take a step towards you. Though, what you don’t see is that Taesan is faster. He waves at you, calling your name with a big grin, before running to give you a hug. 

Your eyes widen upon the impact, and it’s like everything is in slow motion. 

Taesan pulls away, ruffling your hair. His eyes crinkle with his grin. “Are you proud of me, darling?”

Darling. 

You gulp. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

You give him a laugh, trying your best to not make it sound staged. Your nose crinkles at the smell of sweaty boys. Taesan notices, of course, and he chuckles. 

“Sorry, I must smell bad. I’ll be sure to spray on some more deodorant next time.”

You gaze into Taesan’s eyes, his arms still around your waist. There’s some kind of softness behind his teasing look—something that you’ve never seen before. 

A small smile forms on your lips, one that you’re unable to hold back. “Good job, Taesan.”

“Yeah?” Taesan laughs, his eyes forming crescent moons. “Thanks, Y/N.”

He then leans in to whisper, “that’s the first time I’ve heard that from you.”

You push him away, rolling your eyes. “Fuck off, Taesan. I’ll be waiting at the bus stop.”

Taesan laughs loudly as you stomp away. “By the way,” he yells, “you look good wearing my number, sweetheart!”

You lower your head, biting your lips to fight two things—the urge to flash the middle finger to the jolly Taesan behind you, and the weird fluttering feeling that erupts in your stomach every time he calls you ‘sweetheart’.

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

“Y/N,” you turn around, finding a panting Anton in front of you. 

You’re standing in line outside one of the most famous pasta restaurants in the heart of the KOZ School of Medicine square, waiting to buy this one pasta dish you’ve been craving for the entire month. You didn’t tell anyone you’d be here—not even Taesan or the girls—so you’re weirded out by the fact that your ex found you here.

“...Anton,” you curtly acknowledge. 

“Is it true?” he asks. 

You force your eyes close for a second, wishing that it wasn’t wrong to beat someone up. “What?”

“That you’re dating Han Taesan. I saw him kissing your cheek last time.”

Your heart almost stops beating for a second. Almost two months have passed, and almost everyone in the entire campus of KOZ Academy knows that you and Taesan are finally getting tired of fighting each other—falling in love instead. 

Your plan has passed the soft launch phase, and now, you’re having your nemesis call you sweet, adoring nicknames out in public. 

“Yes,” you answer, managing a deadpan expression. “What about it?”

“Do you love him?” 

You narrow your eyes at Anton, feeling like if he keeps on shooting questions like this, he’d go home with a black eye. “Why does it matter if I love him or not?”

“Because,” Anton starts, his voice beginning to waver with every following word, “you used to love me.”

His words hang in the air, thick with a known, cursed history. You could hear your heart stutter for a split second, but you shake your head, quickly suppressing the feeling. You take in a sharp breath, feeling the heat of old anger rise in your chest. You force yourself to look at Anton, eyes hardening.

“That was two years ago, Anton,” you say, your voice detached. “And you made sure to end it, remember?”

Anton’s face flickers with something—guilt, regret, maybe even a hint of fear—but you’re not interested in seeing it. You’re sick of it—too familiar with the way he can spin his words to make himself seem like the victim.

“You don’t get to do this,” you continued, lips tightening into a thin line. “You don’t get to just show up and act like we can pick up where we left off, after what you did with Mina."

Anton’s face darkens the moment your old best friend’s name leaves your mouth, but you hold his gaze without flinching. Anton opens his mouth, probably to throw another lame and poorly explained excuse that you’ve heard before, but you’re faster than he is. 

“Save it,” you snap. “You don’t have any right to ask me if I love Taesan after what you did. You lost that right the moment you lied to me and slept with her.”

Anton looks taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected you to bring that up, but obviously, you don’t care. You’ve held your feelings in for so long—leaving them behind quietly to try and move on without a commotion. You’ve spent enough time letting him walk all over you in the past—you’re not about to let him do it again.

For a moment, Anton looks like he’s about to say something more, but you don’t give him a chance. You turn away, taking a small step back as you glance briefly at the line in front of you. “I’m done with this conversation, Anton. You should be, too.”

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THE next morning, after your first class of the day, you sigh as you find yourself waiting outside of a rather packed coffee shop—allegedly Taesan’s favourite one—bundled up in Taesan’s scarf. Autumn is starting to give way to winter, and as it’s doing so, the winds and temperatures are getting crazier. You bury your face further into the softness of Taesan’s scarf, letting the mixture of champagne orange, passion fruit, and sugar vanilla attack your senses. It’s disturbing, once the fact that the scarf that’s warming you up belongs to Taesan registers in your head; however, you had no choice. Freezing your nose off was the only other option. 

“Hey,” you hear Taesan’s voice, turning instantly towards him. 

“Apple pie latte?” he says, handing you a warm cup of said coffee. Grabbing it from him, you perk your eyebrows up. 

“How did you know?” you say, pushing the scarf down. Taesan shrugs, sipping his own drink. You glance at the sticker on his cup: cinnamon maple latte.

“Instincts.”

You snicker at his reply, rolling your eyes. “Cut me some slack.”

The two of you then walk back towards the law school complex, where both of your classes will be held next. The winds begin to blow, and you find yourself hiding half your face behind Taesan’s scarf. You squint your eyes, blinking harshly as the stray strands of hair sting them. 

“I love autumn, but not this kind,” you mumble. 

Taesan glances at you, and in one swift motion, he grabs your free hand and shoves it into the pocket of his coat. He interlaces his hand with yours, letting his body warmth transfer to you. 

Your eyes widen, your brain slow at processing the situation. You whip your head towards the tall man walking with you, his expression relaxed as ever. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss, trying to pull away. 

Taesan gives you a look that yells ‘really, Y/N?’. “Keeping you warm?”

“I don’t need your help,” you retort, yanking your hand away. 

Taesan grabs it back, shoving it into his pocket. This time, his grip on your hand is firmer than before. “I don’t need my girlfriend to freeze to death—it’s going to ruin my reputation.”

Realisation hits you, again, like a ton of bricks right at the face. 

Oh. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, letting him do his thing. You look away, deciding to admire the surrounding golden trees. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself of how this whole ‘thing’ with Taesan is temporary—and having a personal heat packet isn’t too bad. 

Once the two of you reach the lecture hall together, people begin to clearly spectate. You pull your hand away from him, rushing to your usual seat. Taesan, his expression calm as he always is, walks over to his usual seat as well—directly behind you. 

Then, two minutes before the lecture starts, the person you truly hated comes into view, and decides to sit at the empty seat next to you. 

“Hi, Y/N,” your ex, Anton, greets you with the biggest smile on his face. You mentally sob—already dreading the three hours to come.

You turn away, scooting as far as you could. The memories rush like a flood you can’t stop—reminding you of the heart-tearing pain the boy sitting next to you caused. 

“Y/N? You alright? You look pale,” Anton says, probing further.

“It’s the weather,” you reply dully, your lips downturned. You unravel Taesan’s scarf from your neck, placing it on your lap. Your eyes fixed onto the lecture, you ignore Anton’s attempts to get you conversing with him. 

“Y/N, are you free after class?” Anton whispers, twenty minutes into the lecture. 

“No.” You give him a side glance.

“And you don’t even take IT,” you fake a smile, “so I don’t think you should even be here. With due respect, get lost, yeah?”

“I’m honoured,” Anton whispers back. The soft smile on his face makes you gag. “You still remember things about me.”

“Oh, please,” you grimace, anger beginning to bubble up inside of you. “I’d rather make out with Taesan than remember even the tiniest bit of–”

You suck in your breath sharply, your cheeks flushing at an alarming rate. You had blurted your words out too fast to even register the fact that you’re actually wearing the said person’s initials in a necklace ‘round your neck. 

“You’d rather what now, sweetheart?” 

Hearing Taesan’s voice, you can almost see his smug smirk decorating that annoyingly attractive face of his. 

Your eyes widen. 

I did not just admit that.

You turn to Taesan for a moment, flashing him a sheepish smile. You quickly spin back to face the lecture, forcing yourself to focus. 

After the lecture concluded, you find yourself stuck in a sticky situation—Anton just can’t let you go out. 

“Do you want to go and grab lunch together? It’s pretty late for lunch, and I know your stomach gets upset easily if you don’t eat,” you wince upon hearing his soft tone. 

You frown, hating the fact that Anton knows almost a lot of things about you. “No, Anton, I’m sure I said–”

“She said no, Lee, I’m sure even a stupid motherfucker can understand.”

Seeing Anton’s eyes almost pop out at the sight of Taesan next to you, you’re sure that you look the same. You turn sharply towards Taesan, who has his hand perfectly placed on your back. The look on his face is fierce and scary, like he’s about to completely destroy Anton exactly where he’s standing.  

“Han,” Anton addresses him curtly. “I didn’t know that you’re on… good terms with Y/N.”

You fidget with the charm on your décolletage, collecting every bit of energy you have to maintain a stoic expression. 

Taesan flashes a sly smirk, pride radiating from his eyes as the corners of Anton’s lips twitch. “Why? Is it important to you who I’m close to?”

“No, but given your history with Y/N—I don’t want her to get hurt,” Anton blathers, “so I’m gladly asking you to–”

“What? Fuck off?” Taesan scoffs. Your eyes bulge, somehow not expecting Taesan’s choice of words to be so vulgar. “I think that’s what you’re supposed to do, Lee.”

“Y/N,” Anton says, desperation vivid in his voice. He grabs your wrist, and you instinctively step back. “C’mon, let’s go. I know you don’t like this stupid asshole here–”

Before you could even act, Taesan steps in front of you, shoving Anton to the floor. The students who are still lingering around stop to look. You couldn’t hold in your gasp—Taesan looks extremely angry, you swear you could see fire in his eyes. 

A thought clicks into your head. 

Taesan is the it-boy, of course he’s good at acting.

You take a step back, weirded by the heavy feeling of disappointment that begins to cloud your heart as soon as you remember the arrangement. 

It’s just acting, Y/N. Get it together. 

“Don’t touch her, bastard,” you hear Taesan hiss before he turns to you. Anger still lingering around, you watch with silence as Taesan relaxes the tension in his jaw. In a mirroring silence, he gestures for you to follow him out. You nod.

As you turn on your heel, Anton calls out, visibly irritated. 

“Y/N,” he says, “what’s going on?”

You give him a mocking smile. You swing Taesan’s scarf around your neck. “I don’t think I owe you an explanation, Anton.”

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

AS you and Taesan walk out of the lecture hall, you can’t ignore the heavy weight settling in your chest. It keeps replaying in your mind: the way Taesan stepped in, fiercely protective—it’s all an act, right? You sneak a glance at Taesan, but his face is unreadable, his jaw still slightly clenched from the encounter.

“Taesan… you didn’t have to do that,” you mumble, playing with the hem of his scarf.

Taesan exhales through his nose, his shoulders rising slightly. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he then adds under his breath, “fucking bastard.”

You blink, unintentionally slowing your steps. That’s… different from what you expected.

“Taesan,” you try again, but he shoves his hands into his pockets, picking up the pace.

You know you should just let it go, but the air between the two of you feels heavier than it was before. Was it just an act? Maybe it was—and that Taesan’s acting skills are as good as the rom-com actors—but something about the way he had looked at Anton; like he was seconds away from doing more than just shoving him to the ground. 

It feels too… real.

A sudden gust of wind cuts through your coat, making you shiver. Instantly, Taesan grabs your wrist and pulls you into a nearby convenience store.

“Sit,” he orders, disappearing for a moment. You watch him move through the aisles, confusion twisting in your chest. You take a seat exactly where he ordered you to, your head fuzzy from the mixture of confusing, unnamed emotions.

When he returns, he kneels slightly, pressing a warm drink and a heat pack into your hands, his fingers lingering just a second too long.

“You’re hopeless,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “First my scarf, now this.”

You gasp dramatically, rolling your eyes as your lips twitch, your heart knocking against your ribs. “You’re the one who keeps giving me things.”

Taesan just hums in response, his gaze locking onto yours. His usual unreadable expression softens, something almost unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Your grip tightens on the cup, trying to shake off the way your body reacts to his warmth. This whole thing with Taesan was supposed to be temporary. So why did it feel like something had changed?

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

DONGMIN takes several deep breaths, his eyes shut. The jazz music plays in the background, and the buzz of the cafe calms him down. 

No wonder Y/N likes this place. 

Dongmin opens his eyes, finding himself staring at you ordering drinks and some food for the two of you. You had dragged him here as soon as you finished your drink at the convenience store, repeating that you needed to treat him to some food. Your voice rings in his head, telling him that he needed to follow you to the coffee shop, to cool off his steam. 

“Do you like apple pie?” you ask, setting a plate of two slices of said dessert, accompanied by two scoops of vanilla ice cream.

“Why do you even ask if you’ve already gotten it? Seems like my preference doesn’t matter,” Dongmin replies, putting on the usual smirk. 

Your eyes widen and he chuckles. 

“Well,” you huff, “I like apple pie—and it’s impossible to find someone who doesn’t.”

“Alright,” Dongmin laughs, and it hits. His laughter dies down as the realisation sinks in—watching you devour your slice of apple pie like it’s the only food you’ll eat until the end of time. 

Dongmin, as he puts a bite of his food into his mouth, realises how messed up he is. He realises how often a hearty laugh escapes him when he’s with you—how a flustered, frustrated mess you make him. 

“Why are you being nice to me?” Dongmin asks. He pokes his fork absentmindedly into the crust of the apple pie, second guessing his question the moment it leaves him. 

You and he had always, always been rivals—a pair that’s never meant to get along. He’d always find you muttering curses and throwing glares in his direction; and he’d always find himself trying his best to reciprocate your disdain for him. 

Dongmin does hate you, too. 

He hates how you’re so confident, so diligent, so talented. He despises how hard you work, how determined you are, how you seem to always effortlessly bring him down and defeat him in academics. He feels the most intense dislike for you—whenever you walk in the room, he feels like the world is about to explode, along with his sanity. 

Dongmin hates, with a burning passion, how he can’t stop himself from falling in love with you. He absolutely loathes the way you smile, the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, and the way you look at him—with such fiery determination that’s enough to knock him off his feet. He completely hates the way that he has to keep his tongue sharp, and his attitude insufferable, for you to give him a sliver of your attention. He perfectly hates the way it’s impossible for him to let you know that he doesn’t hate you, at all. 

Dongmin watches you open your mouth to reply, yet you don’t for a few moments. You return his gaze, uncertainty playing around in her eyes. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion. “We’re just eating apple pie, Taesan,” you laugh sheepishly. 

For the first time, Dongmin doesn’t have an immediate answer. He swallows the bite of apple pie in his mouth, unsure of what he should say next. His smirk fades and hesitation engulfs him.

You notice this, of course, and your frown deepens. Though, before you could do anything, Jaehyun—Dongmin’s friend, suddenly appears.

He greets Dongmin, patting his shoulder. “Yo, Taesan, long time no see! Wait–” he pauses, laying his eyes on you. “Wait, am I dreaming? You two? Sitting together? Laughing? Are pigs flying now?”

You immediately shake your head, laughing along with Jaehyun. Dongmin, on the other hand, is dazed. He stays silent, still unsure of what to say. He’s finding everything peculiar—the way he’s unable to say anything, the way that his heart is thumping loudly against his chest at the mention of you as his girlfriend. 

He watches you politely say goodbye to Jaehyun, gaining certainty with every beat of his heart. 

His little crush on you is resurfacing, after two years of pushing it down with faked hatred. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

AFTER Jaehyun leaves, you let yourself sneak a glance at Taesan, who’s absentmindedly poking holes in his already destroyed pie crust, avoiding your gaze. You notice his oddly quiet state—the Taesan you know would never miss the chance to throw in a witty remark. 

You throw him a glare, slightly hoping it’d make him knock out of his trance. You set your fork down with an audible clink. “You’re being weird. I mean, you always are insufferably weird, but this is even weirder.”

Taesan scoffs, lifting his drink to his lips. “And you’re being annoying. Paranoid.”

You cross your arms, an annoyed grimace forming on your face. “Am I?”

Taesan holds your gaze for a moment too long, something flickering in his eyes before he looks away. “Maybe not.”

Oh.

You lean back, sighing dramatically. “Fine. I don’t get what you being weird has with me being paranoid, but yeah, I’m totally being paranoid. Definitely imagining things,” you scoff sarcastically.

Taesan hums in agreement. “You do that a lot.”

You choke on air. Glaring at Taesan, you retort, “you’re infuriating.”

“And yet, here you are, sharing dessert with me,” Taesan smirks, tilting his head. 

You pause, blinking profusely.

That… is a valid point. How did you even get here? You and Taesan are supposed to be rivals. Aren’t you supposed to hate each other?

Your stomach twists, and suddenly, you find it difficult to swallow your final bites of apple pie.

After moments of deafening silence, you say, your voice slightly wavering, “you’re unbelievably good at dodging questions, Taesan.”

You bring your drink to your lips, hoping that you sounded casual. 

Taesan looks up from his finished plate of apple pie, smirking as he leans back. “Oh, yeah? Have you ever considered that you’re too good at asking too many questions, and it’s insufferable?”

Your eyes widen slightly, flickering to the way that his eyes glare vaguely at you. “Maybe I am,” you admit quietly, “but you’re dodging the real ones.”

Taesan’s smirk falters a little bit, just for a second, and there’s something unrecognisable in his eyes. Something you can’t put a name on. 

Maybe a shift in the air. Maybe it’s just your imagination. Or maybe it’s because your heart is racing just a little too fast.

You’re so focused on trying to read Taesan’s expressions that you don’t notice the way your voice softens. “So… if this whole thing is an act, why do I keep feeling like you actually care?”

You mentally hit yourself. That isn’t what you meant to say—and it’s certainly not what you would say in front of Taesan.

Though, it’s out before you can stop yourself. The words hang in the air, heavy and uncertain.

Taesan freezes, his eyes widening with a vulnerability for a fraction of a second. Then, just as quickly as it came, his guard comes back up. “Like we’ve discussed before, it’s an act. Nothing more.”

His voice is stern and plain, and his expression is stoic, but you catch the tremble in his hand as he’s fiddling with his fork. 

That, somehow, doesn’t sit right with you. 

You learn forward, the pendant swinging against your décolletage, your expression more serious now. “Then why do you care so much?”

You watch him closely, catching the tightening in his jaw and the way his hand proceeds to rest on the table, fingers anxiously tapping against the wood. Taesan doesn’t answer immediately, and instead, he looks away to drift his gaze to the window.

Your chest suddenly tightens. He’s acting like this is nothing, but you certainly feel it—the crack in the walls you’ve both constructed carefully against each other. It’s a tug at the back of your mind, a repeating whisper you’ve been trying so hard to push away.

And yet, the silence between you feels louder than ever.

Minutes pass by and the silence gets louder and louder. You’re lost in your own thoughts—realising just how much you’re affected by Taesan; just how much more you’re feeling than you want to admit. In the silence, you’re wondering, are you just imagining all this? Maybe it’s just you, maybe it’s the fact that you’re finding something more from this fake relationship you have with Taesan, your nemesis. 

Though, there’s something that you can’t deny: the fact that your chest tightens with fluttering butterflies every time he gets too close, every time his words shift to something softer than usual, it’s something that makes your heart trip in your chest.

“Y/N,” Taesan calls, his voice softer than anticipated, and you’re pulled out of your train of thought. You look at him slowly, uncertain and afraid of what’s to come. He pauses, as if he’s unsure of what to say next. “What if… I told you I’m not sure if I can pretend much longer?” 

His gaze finally meets yours, and for a moment, there’s no mask—just the raw sincerity in his eyes.

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You open your mouth, trying to say something—but nothing comes out. The evident truth in his words hits you like an ocean wave on a sunny day, and you can’t help but feel something is shifting between you both.

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THE next few weeks pass by like a ridiculously large time-skip in a movie. You’re doing things like you usually do—attend classes, do mootings, send in assignments, study for exams. Though, there’s one big thing in your life that you can’t ignore—Taesan, your fake-dating arrangement, and the lingering, unspoken tension between the two of you. The first week after the coffee shop episode, you couldn’t sleep even a wink—your mind kept on replaying the scenes over and over again, the way you caught Taesan’s guard almost falling down. You’re sure you felt it too, the cracks in the walls you’ve built against him—even for a short moment. 

At school, you’re hyper aware and extra distracted by Taesan. He’s doing his part of the agreement well, acting like he agreed he would. Every glance from him feels like a load of unspoken words, and the air between you two feels heavy. Every day you ponder, unsure of what to do with the new, fragile tension that’s settled between you and Taesan.

Today is the same—everything passes in a blur of lectures, assignments, and studying. You drag your heavy footsteps out of the room, your head spinning at the thought of the many assignments waiting for you. You look up, and the moment you step into the hallway, you see Taesan leaning against the wall, phone in hand, looking as calm as ever. 

You walk near him, and your eyes meet—you see a flicker of something there—a tension, a question neither of you have the answer to. 

“Y/N,” Taesan greets you with a casual, unreadable smile. You pause in your steps, turning to face him.

“Hi,” you reply quite timidly. You’re trying to sound casual, but you can hear the slight hitch in your voice. There’s no pretending this isn’t different now. There’s no pretending you didn’t almost cross a line last time. 

Taesan takes a final glance at his phone before shoving it into his pocket. “Still pretending this is just an act?” he asks, his voice surprisingly soft but laced with something familiar, almost teasing.

You pause, your breath stuck in your throat. Your heart, yet again, skips a beat, and you try to brush it off by laughing nervously. “Me? Pretending? I’m not pretending,” you say, and it’s directed more towards yourself than to him.

You’re not sure who’s trying to convince who anymore.

Taesan looks taken aback. He blinks profusely before putting his usual, calm expression back on. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding, “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You watch him walk away, heart twisting in the weirdest way. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

DONGMIN hates the way everything is now. Why can’t he just tell you everything? Why can’t he just tell you that he isn’t pretending, that he actually cares?

He wants to stop everything–going back to shoving insults at your face might be the safest option of them all. Yet, Dongmin finds himself caring for you in the little ways—wrapping his scarf around your neck, adjusting the placement of your bangs with a simple ruffle, placing a tin of coffee and bread in front of you whenever you seem exhausted with studying, sliding post-its to you with his handwriting reminding you to take breaks when needed. He still finds his heart racing upon seeing you; the way your lips pout when you’re deep in thought, the way you smile and laugh so adorably upon hearing a funny joke from your friends, the way you’re still so cute even when frustrated. 

As he walks away, Dongmin fights with his own heart. Why was he acting like this? It’s so clear that you’re expecting something more, but why is he pushing you away? 

Dongmin takes a deep breath. Yeah, he’s scared. He’s afraid that maybe it’s all in his head, maybe you’re the one acting so well and it’s just gotten to him. 

Dongmin swears to get himself together, but it looks like he’s going to need more than just mental affirmations. 

The next day, he misses his alarm, for the first time in forever, and is running late to his 9 AM lecture. He’s speed walking through students, dodging them with a bag hanging on one shoulder and his hair still partially wet. Just as he’s about to near the entrance of the Law building, he hears raised voices nearby. He puts his hood up, his first instinct is to ignore it all—he’s got no time to eavesdrop on people’s business. However, he recognises one of the two quarrelling voices—yours. 

Dongmin’s steps come to a halt, and he turns to face you. His eyes slightly widen and his shoulders begin to tense as he sees you and Anton standing a few feet away, locked in an argument. He’s a bit too far away to hear the full conversation, yet he catches some bits of it.

You’re standing at your full height, stiffly in front of Anton, arms crossed and eyes blazing with fury. Anton, on the opposite side of you, no longer has that sickening, innocent smile—instead, he’s flashing you a mocking smirk. 

The argument is already reaching its peak, yet Dongmin is quick to analyse the situation just by picking up a few bits. 

“You think you’re really something, don’t you?” Anton taunts.

You scoff. Dongmin could tell you’re offended, yet the mask you put on really makes a difference. “At least I don’t have to put other people down to feel important.”

Anton scoffs back, “please. You act like you’re above all this, but you’re just as desperate for attention as everyone else.”

Dongmin clenches his jaw, watching the argument unfold as his fingers begin to twitch. 

You give Anton a mocking laugh, stepping forward. “I don’t care what you think, Anton Lee. I don’t care if you think I don’t love Taesan, because what matters is my own feelings, not yours. And I’m done wasting my time on you.”

Before you could turn away and enter the building, Anton grabs your wrist. 

It’s not aggressive, but it’s enough. Enough to make Dongmin see red.

Everything’s a blur—one second later, he’s towering in front of Anton, his eyes glaring daggers. 

“Let her go,” his voice is low and threatening, as sharp as a blade. 

Anton looks up, initially startled, but as soon as he sees Dongmin, he rolls his eyes. His hand still around your wrist, he says with a sneer, “look who’s here, Y/N’s knight in shining armour! Oh, so great, always the hero.”

Dongmin is too busy counting down the ways he could destroy Anton’s life to be noticing how immediate the warmth creeps up your cheeks. Dongmin, in one fluid motion, steps closer, standing between you and Anton. 

“Did you hear me?” his voice drops deadly lower than before, his posture relaxed yet his eyes are dangerous. “Let. Go.”

Anton huffs, roughly letting go of your hand. He shakes his head. “You two are seriously something else,” he mutters before storming away. 

You and Dongmin stand next to each other, cautiously eyeing Anton until he disappears from sight. For that moment, none of you say anything.

“What was that for?” you say suddenly, crossing your arms. “I didn’t need you to step in.”

Dongmin shoves his hood down to his neck, raising his eyebrow. Feeling slightly irritated, he scorns. “Yeah? Looked like you were having a great time.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, but something pinches Dongmin’s heart as he notices there’s no real bite behind it. “I’m fine—I had it all handled.”

Silence. 

Dongmin exhales sharply, words shooting out of his mouth without second thought. “I know. It’s just–” 

He stops, his eyes landing on your wrist. Closes his mouth. 

You wait for a few moments, before warily asking. “What? Just what?”

Dongmin hesitates. Suddenly, it’s all he can push out of his throat. He’s already there, halfway crossing the line he’s put between you and him for the past two years. 

And then, it just… slips out. 

“I just can’t stand it, okay?”

Your frown deepens, confused. “Stand… what?”

Dongmin lets out a frustrated breath, turning sharply to completely face you. “I can’t stand seeing you with people like that fucking bastard. I can’t stand watching you get into these stupid situations. And I really, really can’t stand how much I—”

His eyes widen, and his words stumble upon a stop. Dongmin stammers, realising what he was just about to say. 

“Taesan,” you call, gently, hope suddenly shimmering in your eyes. “How much you what?”

Dongmin freezes. He’s silent, tongue frozen, unable to utter another word.

He can’t say it. 

Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, muttering curses under his breath. 

“You know what?” 

“Taesan–”

“Next time,” he says quickly, in a softer voice, “don’t… waste your time on a guy like him.”

Your eye contact is still intact, you open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Your eyes widen for a split second—as if you’re catching on to the feelings displayed, unknowingly, on Dongmin’s face. 

His concern is real.

“W-we should go,” you stammer instead, gesturing to the Law building. 

Dongmin nods. He grabs your backpack from you, signalling for you to walk in first. “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

You force yourself to walk as swiftly as possible to the lecture hall, heart pounding, mind racing. Behind you, Dongmin’s entire body is tense. He’s finally realising he can’t keep his feelings for you hidden forever.

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THE next day, you can’t stop thinking about Taesan—and whatever he was about to say to you. Your mind races with a million different thoughts throughout the day. What if he actually feels the same? What if you’re not the only one looking for something more in this fake arrangement?

However, given that exams are looming closer, you’re only given a short amount of time to dwell on your thoughts. After your last class of the day, you find yourself cooped up in the library, studying the rest of the day away. Several of your friends join you, too. 

The study group grows, joined by both your friends and Taesan’s—though, you didn’t even realise that Taesan is sitting across you the entire day, until everyone starts leaving one by one. 

By midnight, it’s only you and him. You don’t look up, but you can feel your heart thumping faster than usual. You’re hyper aware of your surroundings—how close he is, how his scent feels comforting yet intimidating, and how his presence is reminding you of something that you’re too afraid to admit. 

“Y/N,” you open your eyes to someone gently shaking your shoulder, the reality of things crashing onto you all at once. You lift your head up, realising that you fell asleep in the middle of reviewing a past paper. Your eyes meet with Taesan’s concerned gaze. 

His voice is low and soft, as if it’s only for you. “Let’s take a break. You’ve been snoozing off way too many times.”

Your heart is beating a little faster than usual, but you agree. Taesan’s request seems too casual, and he looks like he needs a break too. 

You follow his lead, walking a little bit behind him to the convenience store that’s still open in campus grounds. He’s silent, observing you and letting you pick anything you want before paying for both your things and his. 

“Go sit,” he says, holding your instant tteokbokki package in hand, along with his instant noodles. “I’ll heat these up.”

Taesan quickly moves to the microwave before you can say anything in retaliation, a sign that you take seriously. He’s not in the mood for any fights. 

You take a seat, and soon after, Taesan joins you. He puts your instant meal in front of you, breaking your chopsticks for you. 

“Here,” he says, his voice quiet. “Careful, the tteok is still hot.”

He then slips his coat around you before turning back to his own beverages. 

You find yourself staring at him, long after he’s handed you your things. You watch him, peacefully releasing his tension—running a hand through his hair, chugging down a cup of coffee. 

Everything around you looks like it has a blurred filter on, yet one thing is crystal clear: Taesan, and his evident care for you. The longer you stare at him, the more you realise.

He’s always been the one. He’s always been there. 

It hits you harder than any bad grade has ever done. 

Taesan has always been like this—quietly looking out for you, quietly caring for you. 

All this while, all the banter, the little arguments, moments, and glances—it’s not just rivalry. It’s not just the fact that he always finds a way to make you all grumbly and irritated. It’s not just the fact that, even back when you were with Anton, he’d always find a way to show his care for you. 

It’s not just the fact that you enjoy his company, even if he makes you feel like you want to bang your head against the wall. 

You like him. 

You like Han Taesan. 

You quickly turn your head away, blood rushing to your head as soon as the realisation hits you. You stuff a few bites of instant tteokbokki into your mouth, wanting to quickly get rid of whatever this warm, refreshing feeling is. 

“Can you stop looking at me like that, L/N?” 

You cough, shocked at how his sudden comment breaks through the almost comforting silence. All the past moments you’ve had with him—the banter, the insults, the arguments—run through your head as soon as your last name, what Taesan had always called you, reaches your ears.

“Like what?” emboldened by the awakening of your feelings, you retort, your tone more challenging than you intended. 

Taesan snaps, pushing his chair back, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. 

“Like I’m your fucking boyfriend.”

“What?” you’re confused, not expecting that out of his mouth. “What are you–”

“Like you’re waiting for me to say something that I know I can’t take back.”

“Say it, then.”

You say, challenging him. It feels sentimental—like the old days, where all you did when you met Taesan was throw taunting words at him. But at the same time, the words come out of your mouth without realising—daring the two of you to finally cross the line. 

“I like you, okay? I probably love you at this point, I don’t know. I don’t know when it started, but I do. And I—” He exhales sharply, his voice softer. “I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t.”

The world stops spinning and you stare at him, blank. 

Your tongue feels numb, your heart racing at a million miles per hour. 

You feel the same, you’re sure, but you don’t know how to respond. Do you smile and say it back? Do you tease him, calling him an idiot like you always do? 

“I didn’t mean to fall for you,” you catch Taesan muttering. 

You smile. “Me too,” you say softly. 

Taesan lifts his head immediately, sharply turning to you with widened eyes. “... pardon?”

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THE next few days feel like a refreshing spring breeze in the peak of winter, yet the air is filled with a cute awkwardness. After the confession, neither of you explicitly announce to one another that the two of you are a real couple now—yet your interactions feel new and unscripted, but no one exactly is making the first move. 

Of course, your friends notice before the two of you do. 

You’re sitting at the food hall together with Yunjin and Sophia, eating breakfast. You’re halfway through your pancakes, and Taesan—or Dongmin, as you call him now—suddenly takes a seat next to you. 

“Mind if I join, girls?” he asks, a charming grin on his face. He’s asking the table, yet his gaze is directed to you. You bite your lip shyly, nodding.  

“Sure, make yourself at home,” Yunjin says, her words laced with teasing. She watches with eagle eyes as Dongmin puts all of the sliced bananas from his serving of pancakes onto yours, knowing that you especially enjoy them with your breakfast pancakes. She snorts at the obvious look of love in Dongmin’s eyes, more evident now that he isn’t shoving insults at your face. “So, you two are really dating now?”

You choke on your bite of pancake, immediately blurting out,

“No!”

“Yes.”

You sharply turn to Dongmin, who has a smug look on his face. It’s the one look on his face that you’re used to, yet there’s a tint of pink on his cheeks. The edge of his smirk twitches, threatening to form into a cute, lovesick smile. 

“...I see,” Sophia interrupts your awkward eye contact, sighing dramatically. 

“We’re dating?” you ask Dongmin acutely, your brows connecting in an embarrassed frown. 

“I don’t know,” Dongmin shrugs casually, the look in his eyes teasing. “Are we?”

The blush that instantly creeps up your cheeks tells you the answer. You look away, suddenly focused on the way you’re cutting your pancakes. Dongmin’s laugh echoes to your left, and your friends’ send you teasing looks. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

A few months later, on the first week back after winter break, you go on a walk around campus with your boyfriend, Han Dongmin. It feels weird, calling him yours now. Just almost half a year ago, you were fighting your ego to have your nemesis fake-date you in order to intimidate your ex into leaving you and your life alone. Now, that same thorn in your side has become the light of your life, the apple of your eye. Now, the two of you are in something that’s not written on a flimsy contract.

Dongmin had also helped clear out the rumours surrounding you—in the most annoying, Han Taesan way—announcing the truth about Anton by spreading it like a rumour to everyone. You still get second-hand embarrassment remembering that day, bombarded by questions and apologies from acquaintances and people you’ve only seen around. 

“You know,” you say dreamily, distracted by your train of thought, “you’re so annoying—but I love you.”

Dongmin freezes, his steps coming to an immediate halt. You, too, freeze in your steps as you realise you’re a few steps ahead of him now. You turn around, eyebrows perked up. “What’s wrong, Dongmin?”

Dongmin. 

The sound of your voice calling his birth name repeats in his mind, like a favourite song on loop. He stares, unable to say anything. His eyes fall on the pendant dangling from your neck, one that you started wearing due to the fake-dating arrangement. He remembered insisting that you take it off, so that he can buy you a new one later, but you said that it’s special so you won’t take it off. 

I love you. 

Dongmin feels a smile slowly bloom on his face. 

She said it. She didn’t even hesitate. It’s like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

His face softens, jogging up to you. He gives you a cheeky smile. 

“Say that again.”

You frown. “What again?”

“The first part.”

“What–” you pause, eyes widening as you get what he’s talking about. Heat rushes up your cheeks, warming your face despite Dongmin’s scarf wrapped around it. “I–”

“Yeah,” Dongmin says, smirking as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Me too.”

You bury yourself into the familiar scent of Dongmin’s scarf as he kisses your cheek. 

“Fuck you, Han Dongmin,” you grumble, ignoring the obvious butterflies in your stomach. 

　　 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

THAT weekend, you and Dongmin are eating lunch together at your favourite coffee shop. Dongmin had said that the vibes there makes him sleepy, and tried to bring you to eat at one of the more famous restaurants near the KOZ School of Engineering, yet the plan backfires on him when the line is certainly too long. 

Now, the two of you are back at your favourite coffee shop, sipping warm cinnamon lattes. 

“See?” you tease, smiling cheekily. “I told you this place is the best.”

Dongmin rolls his eyes, taking a big spoonful of the chocolate cinnamon roll on your plate. “I want to eat some real food, like kimchi jjigae, not these sweet chocolate desserts,” he complains, though he can’t hide the fact that he secretly loves it. 

“Yet you’re the one finishing my cinnamon roll,” you retort, letting him subconsciously finish your dessert. You’re familiar with his love for chocolate.

Dongmin flashes you an innocent smile, shrugging. “Not my fault.”

Comfortable silence engulfs the two of you, letting you bask in each other’s presence. Suddenly, Dongmin leans closer, adjusting the place of the H.D pendant on your décolletage. Frozen, you watch him lean back into his seat, smiling as he admires you. 

“You look good today,” he murmurs, “actually, you look good everyday.”

An undeniable tint of pink colours your face. “I’m literally wearing a black turtleneck sweater, Dongmin.”

His gaze softens. “Like the first time you sat next to me, three years ago, during our foundation year.”

Your eyes widen, your mind replaying the memory, fresh like it happened yesterday. “You… remember?” 

“Of course,” Dongmin replies, his smile delicate. 

“I even remember the day you walked up to me, confident and all. I thought you were going to brag to my face that you won first place for the quiz we had the day before, but then you told me to fake date you.”

You almost spit out the coffee from your mouth. “Han Dongmin!” you hiss. “Don’t remind me… it was so stupid.”

“Stupid?” Dongmin asks, tilting his head. The signature cocky smirk is back on his face. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah…” you sigh, “I mean, I could’ve resolved the matter by myself, you know–”

“But you know that I’m the best option,” Dongmin cuts you off, smug. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t think it’s stupid, though,” he continues, his expression softer. More… raw. “To be honest, I think I was ecstatic that you walked up to me that day.”

“Why?” you ask croakily. 

“‘Cause I’ve always liked you, Y/N. I always have. I just don’t understand where things went wrong—maybe it’s the way I thought teasing you would gain me your attention at first. It did. But then, you became used to my teasing and thought of me as a threat—maybe ‘cause I’m smart as hell, too—but yeah. I don’t know how to say it but, all of that hatred was… pretend.”

You blink at him, too shocked to process his words. You try to reply, but mere stuttering comes out, and your face turns bright red. 

Dongmin notices this, of course, and he turns on his shameless, impudent grin. “Besides, you said you’re going to grant me any wish that I have, right?”

Oh. 

You inhale sharply. How could you forget? You immediately bring out your phone, checking the balance in your bank account. It’s quite a luxury, due to you working a few part time jobs during your break and whenever you can—but you certainly don’t think it’s fit for whatever grand wish Dongmin is about to demand from you. 

“Fine,” you huff, “only because it’s part of our… old contract.”

“Old contract, huh?” Dongmin wheezes, already laughing hard. You frown, fighting back a smile. 

“Why are you always laughing whenever I speak, dumbass?”

“Hey,” Dongmin pauses his laughter, flicking your forehead gently. It doesn’t even hurt, but you gasp dramatically, and he laughs it off. “It’s babe for you, sweet girl. And, I’m not laughing at you. I’m just admiring how cute and funny you are.”

Babe, huh?

You snort, hiding a smile. “Fine.”

“Anyway, speaking of the old contract,” Dongmin grins, “what’s the new one, then?”

“You haven’t even told me what sort of dumb, overpriced thing you want for your wish,” you say, lips set in a grim line. “And now you want another one?”

“My wish, huh?”

The unreadable look on his face makes you brace yourself and your wallet.

“Then, my darling, this is my wish.”

Dongmin leans forward, brushing his lips against yours. It’s subtle, short and sweet, but significant enough for you to realise it all—the reality of your feelings and his. He lingers for a while before sitting back in his chair. 

“So,” he says coolly, ignoring the plain blush streaked across his face. “Can you grant me the wish? To kiss you anytime, and anywhere I want?”

“Basically, physical affection can be done anytime?” you say, quoting what this man in front of you said months ago, when both of you first agreed on the fake-dating situation. The whole absurd set-up that brought the two of you to where you are, today. 

Dongmin laughs, clearly impressed. “Yeah,” he nods. 

You give him a warm smile, glad that you’re finally able to follow your heart’s desires, and to not put up a wall of defense around him anymore. 

“Wish granted.”

― © htaesan, 2025.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀want more like this? check out the 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

[henneseyhoe]

All In A Day’s Work

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS:This Headcanon Is Nasty…I Mean Disgusting. Mean!Lewis(No seriously..he’s an asshole till like… the end lmfao), Mentor/Boss!Lewis, Dark!Lewis, Protege!Reader, Insults, Almost A Yandere!Lewis Undertone(I can’t help myself), Lewis Being A Perv, Cockwarming Orally, Spit, Power Imbalance, Dumbification(Kinda?), Pet Names (Baby, Doll, Princess, Slut), Age Gap Unspecified(21+), Public Sex (Kinda), Stalking (Mild), Dirty talk, Gagging, Brief Mention Of Anal, Reader Is Kinda Naive, Probs More Idk.

SUMMARY: They say never meet your idols..

✮✮✮✮

Mentor/Boss!lewis, who quite literally hated you.

He hated your work. He hated the way you worked. He hated your ideas. He hated the way you dressed too. How could you be in the fashion industry dressing like that, and who the hell did you think you were?

You, who looked up to him. You studied his style and cadence, he was your inspiration that kept you intrigued with art and fashion. There wasn’t a piece you have made that you didn’t imagine him praising you for, clapping from an audience of fellow famous designers as you win an award for pieces you made all by yourself. You dreamed so, so big.

Once a confident art school student who recently graduated turned a quiet, delicate thing in his presence. You needed to be that way. If you made yourself smaller, maybe he wouldn’t seek to bother you like he did daily.

It wasn’t just your liking for him and his work that made it hard to be around him, he made it his mission to make everything 10x more insufferable.

You didn’t even know why he hired you, really. There were rumors that he purposely never hired fans, stating that their inspiration from him would blind them from using their own creativity, and you made it very obvious in your interview that you were nothing short of star struck. But, the job was yours on the spot, approved and stamped by Lewis himself.

Your excitement coursed through your veins, hungry for the ideas and tips he’d give you along the way.

Sadly, you were paid just about what dust was worth. As soon as you began working It seemed you were just there to be his punching bag, something he could take his anger out on when someone, or you, most likely you, pissed him off.

Boss!Lewis, who purposely overworked you, making you type up drafts for his articles just as he came up with it in real time. You wanted desperately to make him proud, so you listened to each syllable of each word, each well calculated, evil, full of venom sentence that could end someone’s career that poured into your ears. You pay attention closely as you type, because he himself remembered everything he said, and if anything was out of place or missing from his rant, then he’d be more than pissed.

“This is all you heard? Have your ears somehow popped off your head and walked out of the building?…You wasted my time, and yours. Get out”

He’d say as he shoved the papers back into your hands, still warm from the printer. Did he even give time to actually check if they were right?

Your palms turned white with how hard you clutched the papers in your hands as you walked out, heels stabbing the marble floor with every step you took. He enjoyed seeing your display of emotion whenever he corrected you. This would toughen you up. Maybe even teach you to do things right next time.

Your ears felt hot with both embarrassment and frustration nearly every time he spoke to you. You thought working for your hero would be fun and empowering, but day by day you were proved wrong. How could someone so humble and kind on screen be so cruel to such a sweet girl like you? You were only trying..

Still, you tried harder to gain his respect by working more than you ever had, sewing till your fingers bled, drawing up new designs for him to see that you were getting better, bringing him sweet treats when you could to get even the smallest of thank yous, but again, he wasn’t too fond of your work, or you.

And god forbid you propose the possibility that maybe he was the one that was wrong, he made the mistake and you just made the mistake of following his every word and direction.

Leaning over his desk, you present to him the digital catalog for this year's spring, items of different kinds of clothing littering your computer screen as you click each one individually until he tells you to move on.

“Stop” Lewis points to a picture to halt your scrolling, your heart skipping a beat as you think, ‘Fuck…now what?’

He tsks.

“This suit is from last summer. I specifically told you last year seasons go into an archive, these are not average pieces people can just buy”

You squint, your eyes glazing the screen. “But I didn’t hear- You didn’t say that at all”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

He turned to you in his office chair and closed your laptop down, his head tilted in question. You couldn’t even look straight into his eyes to answer, it was like you saw all the souls he captured day to day screaming for mercy inside of them.

Before you could even fully get a word out he was already giving you your second warning that day.

“I suggest you watch the way you speak to me”

You did so, limiting your criticism to none. You desperately needed to keep this job, the clout, and the money from it. You knew your ideas were good, you just needed Lewis to see that. You needed a little boost, and Lewis was well aware that you couldn’t afford to lose anything you gained this year, seeing as it took you an entire one to find a company like this to take you seriously, having the honor to work as close as you do with one of Europe’s top designers. One day you hoped to be one just like him.

The company had many young workers, some directly hired by Lewis himself just like you, many with the same plans as you to become some big designer or director in the city. Some are not as hardworking as you, so you wondered why Lewis wasted time bullying you instead.

You complain to your coworkers often, thinking you’ve found some kind of friend, but are quickly corrected when you find out someone’s been snitching about what you’ve been saying about your boss around the office..

Lewis towered over you as you sat in a chair facing his desk, hands fiddling in your lap with your head hanging low in shame. This wasn’t the first time you’ve been embarrassed in this very office, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“If you spent half as much time actually doing what I tell you to do instead of wasting your energy bad mouthing me around the building, maybe you wouldn’t have to be a fucking assistant anymore” He chuckled as he flipped through a catalog of unreleased designs while pacing the floor in front of you. The tapping of his shoes synced with the hard thump of your heart, every ‘clack’ leading a loud ‘lub-dub’ that you swore everyone in the room could hear.

Stopping in his tracks, he sighs and shakes his head, neat braids that framed his face swaying with the movement. He often faked his pity, you learned that early on. He cared none if you were struggling for whatever reason, in his head you either pull yourself up by your bootstraps or sit and suffer.

“If you can’t take the little shit I give you, then how do you expect to get anywhere in life, princess? Pretty faces can only get you so far, especially when you piss off important people before you even become somebody“

You keep your head down, careful to not make the mistake of shrugging at his question like the first time he had ever asked you anything you didn’t know the answer to.

“Wow..And you’re fired”

You look up from your sweating hands, your heart skipping beats when you realize he was talking to the woman behind you.

“What? Me? But-” Her stuttering clearly didn’t help her case as she tried to find the right excuses to keep her position as head director, which would eventually become vacant regardless. Lewis spared her a glare, but it was more of a warning for her to suck it up. He hated seeing people cry.

“No one likes a snitch”

You exited that room that day with a thankfulness not even gospel could pull from you. You kept your job and your spot next to him. Dignity and pride was in question, but at least you weren’t jobless.

The next week, you focused more on yourself. You wore your own designs, hoping to catch some kind of compliments, and you did! Just not from Lewis. It was already known that Lewis hated your style, but you could at least say it wasn’t as bad as his last assistant, whom he told you dressed like, and I quote, he “walked into the closet every morning with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back with only his mouth as an option to pick up the items to wear”...

You tried your best to dress to his liking and incorporate his style into your designs while also keeping your signatures. You spent your nights reading magazines he did interviews for to pick up on what he was feeling was in this year, but it wasn’t easy when he was so picky.

“Is that rose gold?”

“Where?.. On my watch?”

Lewis stayed silent, his eyes scanning you fully before he spoke again.

“No, on the floor” He said with sarcasm plaguing his voice, making you raise a brow.

“Take the jewelry off. It looks tarnished”

He nearly swooped you up just then to get something that actually matched your skin tone, but that’d be him just stealing company time for something more..personal.

Boss!Lewis, who soon got tired of your poor attempts at outfits and began to dress you in things he thought were good looking, giving you a box of expensive new outfits at the end of the work day, each labeled for which days you’d wear them. He even invited you over to his for a few “required” trials. Y’know, just to see how good the tailoring was.

And you were ecstatic about it. You, in YOUR idols house, getting adorned in expensive clothing you only dreamed about. It made up for everything he said to you that week to make you upset.

He took you into his very own study and told you what colors look best on you in each season of the year, gave you advice on what jewelry made you glow and the places you should put them depending on the cut of your clothes, he measured your waist, arms, legs, bust, everything, and told you what would go with your body type. Though you wished he could turn the heat up as he did so, you were starting to get a little cold in just your bra and underwear..

“Look at that…it fits you so much better than what you’re usually in”

He’d turn you to a mirror as you tried to lower the mini skirt you wore, attempting to cover more than just the cup of your ass. You could nearly feel a breeze every time he passed you by to get a look from different positions.

Apparently his favorite was from the back.

“You won’t be wearing anything I didn’t put you in from now on. Think of it like a work uniform, since you dress like the world outside is blind. Now, gimme a spin, doll”

Your new look caught the attention of other designers. Some loved the bold look, seeing it as a statement, like how fashion should be these days. They applaud you for testing out the boundaries and limits of a workplace. How professional could you be with your skirt riding up? Others were confused on why your style did an entire 180, and why they could see the valley of your breasts now.

Your answer was simple. Evolution is how the world stays afloat. If you don’t change in time and willingly, the world around you will force you to before you’re ready. Lewis told you that.

Boss!Lewis, who wished he did this so much sooner. His very own life size Barbie he could dress up and down any way he wanted. It was just an extra perk to being able to say anything to you and you still coming into work the next day.

You were beautiful before, he never denied that, all his insults were technically on your intelligence. Nonetheless, he believed he outdid himself with this idea, he could truly see your potential now. Everything you put on brought out your features so much more, it was almost dramatic, and you were starting to truly live up to the nickname he gave you. Now he wanted to know if you were just as flexible as any other doll..

Boss!Lewis, who couldn't get enough of looking at you. It was never an innocent attraction, it was never about wanting to help a protege, this was all for him and him only, the fashion industry be damned. He didn’t care about introducing you to a world of anything as soon as he got half of your clothes off.

The amount of times he was imagining fucking you in front of everybody should have been illegal. He even debated fucking you in his study when he invited you over, watching you drool dumbly with a tiny dress hanging halfway off of your waist. Your very own icon using you for what you were worth. He was already imagining things before, but the daydreams were starting to prohibit him from his duties of CEO.

He had to do something. Fucking his hand in the privacy of his office wasn’t gonna suffice forever.

Boss!Lewis, who went to bed at night thinking of you. Thinking of the ways he could bend you, how many times he could make you cum in one round. When he was with you he pondered on what kind of panties you were wearing. Were they black? Pink, maybe? Did they have a cute little bow on the front like they did when he dressed you? Were they lace and see through? So see through that he could bend you over his desk and spread your ass with his hands to see the pink peeking from behind your brown lips. God, he wanted you so fucking bad from the start.

Boss!Lewis, who started to become irrational. Wondering where you went after work, if you had anyone else to see. God knows what Lewis would do to him, or get done to him. He even followed you sometimes when he couldn’t take the wondering, you were absolutely oblivious to the Ferrari behind you at every stop.

Boss!Lewis, who didn’t need to see where your house was, you worked for him, so of course he had your address, but he needed to see what routes you took. How long would it take you to get there after he snuck into your bottom floor apartment and stole a pair of your underwear after snooping through your things, carefully placing them back where they belonged before snapping a picture or two. Money took him a long way as he bribed the security with a few bills to ensure he wouldn’t speak a word of his visit. Of course the dumb fuck agreed.

You notice your underwear going missing, but you pass it off as just misplacing them in all the other clothes that were being delivered from Lewis.

You also noticed how close Lewis was becoming, but that just made you giddy. Someone you still adored as an artist finally warming up to you.. And as a boss, he had to watch you for reasons, right?

From the time you got to work and clocked in from the time you left, he was watching from his office, glass windows so clear that you could see the condensation from his breath on it as he looked down upon his workers. When you left, his curtains were immediately pulled close.

“He’s just being a boss” “He’s always like that, right?” “Don’t think too much, this is your dream, You’ll ruin your chances with him” Your friends would say when you confided in them about the constant watching, but they didn’t understand that he wasn’t watching everyone, he was watching you. You weren’t sure you understood that he was just watching you either.

Time passed and now he didn’t just watch. He visibly followed. He touched. Brushing a singular finger up your bare arm as you worked aside him, the silver ring on his finger sent shivers straight up your spine and electricity to your core. That jump started a second heartbeat that wouldn’t settle till you walked away from him.

Boss!Lewis, who was unashamed, barely hiding the lingering stares or brushing.

“Sir?”

You’d dare to speak as he pressed himself up against your ass. It wasn’t firm, but just enough for you to feel him. Your hands were unable to move to continue writing up a list of fabrics he needed for later that week. You became aware of everything around you. The ticking of the clock on the wall was loud, the cold wood of his desk pressing on your forearms as you wrote was noticeable.

“Keep going”

He nudged with a hand on your hip as you let out a shaky breath. It was hard to work like this, you could barely believe it was happening where it was, with whom it was.

He thought you sucked at your job before, you could be no better now with him breathing down your neck, grabbing at your curves and using the excuse of just trying to feel the fabric of your clothes.

“Silk?” He asked, his hand growing dangerously close up your thighs from the rim of your dress.

Your breathing hitched, your hand hesitantly swiping his off of your thigh before you nod, trying to distract yourself from the intense staring by grabbing the nearest needle and thread, pretending to touch up a bralette in front of you that was basically already done.

Lewis smiles.

Boss!Lewis, who hadn’t gotten any better with distractions since testing his limits with you for months now. Watching you squirm, anticipating what was next was so much more satisfying than designing these days. But you? You had no room to slack.

He’d call you in his office just to watch you work, then complain about not getting enough done.

Just under your breath, you’d make smart comments to release yourself from some of the stress of the day, unable to hear his complaining for hours without a word for yourself like you used to. You didn’t say it to his face exactly, but he’d be near, his cursing prompting you to speak. You weren’t the girl you were a few months ago, the less he criticized you, the more you expressed yourself outwardly. You knew him, and he was all talk for the most part, you felt you deserved to say at least one thing even if only you knew what was said.

“Maybe if you did your job instead of looking up my skirt all day, damn perv…”

He heard you. He heard everything, remember?

“Perv?”

Perv? No, No, No. Lewis couldn’t let that slide. He wasn’t the one that was being weird, it was you. Sure, he made you dress a certain way, but it was your fault you looked like that. He was not. a fucking. pervert..Fuck.

Boss!Lewis, who made use of your mouth that had started to get smarter and bolder towards him the longer you worked for him. He kept you on your knees, under his desk with his dick stuffed in your mouth. Your jaw ached, and every time you made it known, he’d shove you down further, more spit trailing down your chin. He didn’t care if anyone knocked, or walked in. To them, it was none of their business, too scared to even mention the red bottoms slightly sticking from underneath the desk or the abrupt choking sound they’d hear in the middle of their conversation.

It just made Lewis even harder that they knew something was up. But no one was bold enough to speak up about it, scared they’d get blackballed from the industry they so desperately wanted to be in. If Lewis said they weren’t to be worked with ever…they won’t be.

After he allowed you to stand, your makeup had already smudged off, kisses trailing down his abs and a red print of your lips stained around the base of his dick so perfectly, that he took a picture of it when he went home that night and sent it to you straight from his own business number, his unbuttoned work shirt, abs and tattoos in shot and all.

You gasp when you opened it, your phone flying from your hand to the carpeted floor. You hadn’t even recovered from the events, and here he was reminding you that it definitely did happen.

‘This would be a great new tattoo, yeah? XX.

-Sir. L’

Boss!Lewis, who finally got the excuse he needed to do whatever he wanted to you. Why didn’t he just start spanking you from the beginning? Would have been easier than yelling at you, you probably would have let him so easily. All he had to tell you was it was a crucial part of discipline, of becoming your true artistic self. You would have been putty.

Boss!Lewis, who wanted to leave your panties soaked with his cum leaking out of you almost every late work night. So he did. You wouldn’t work overtime if you didn’t want that, obviously.

With every step you felt your lips glide together, making the mess so much worse. Your coworker asks why you’re walking weird the next morning, you say you sprained your ankle in your heels, but you’re fine. If they knew it was really all because your boss was creampie-ing you at nearly 2 in the morning, you’d be shamed out of the building. Climbing the ladder by sleeping with the CEO? How whorish of you.

Unfortunately, your little sessions with your beloved mentor weren’t making your days easier. How could you work properly with your panties soaked with your own arousal? Sloppy work made you upset, but so did unresolved cravings.

Boss!Lewis, who made you ride him while writing up notes as a punishment now. There was no excuse for mistakes. You had all the time you needed to double check.

“Spread your legs. Good girl. Keep going”

You complained with a whine and spread your legs further across his while continuing to bounce on him. Your thighs were burning like you had just done three sets of squats back to back, you were sweating, and the seat below you two was no dryer. Your handwriting was fucked, you couldn’t read a word back to yourself, but if you stopped, you didn’t know what he’d do next.

He caressed your back softly as you work your hips down on him, the clap of your ass against his pelvis bringing a smile to his face.

“Oh, baby…you better hope I can understand whatever’s on that paper”

Boss!Lewis, who gave you new strict rules on not talking to any male workers. It didn’t matter if they spoke to you first, you walked right by without a word, your eyes glancing upwards and spotting a familiar dark figure watching from your boss’s office.

You now had to cover up more, afraid anyone would see the hickeys that would magically appear on your neck whenever you’d leave Lewis’s office.

If the turtlenecks wasn’t a telling sign of what was going on, the sound of your voice coming out of the room sure would have been.

He began gagging you with your own thong, shoving it into your mouth as he slipped his fingers inside of you, his rings and tattoos coated with a thin layer of your cum. He licked up your neck, flicking his tongue over the darkening bruises as his fingers slid in knuckles deep.

“Be a good little slut and cum for me, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?”

You squealed into the cotton fabric in your mouth and threw your head back, your bangs falling out of your face as his fingers simultaneously pressed against your spot until your pussy was squirting like a fountain, wetting his rolled up sleeve.

That happened twice more. Eventually, he couldn’t shut you up with just a gag, but his fingers down your throat made the perfect replacement.

“You got the new designs all wet. I suggest you restart on these as soon as you get home, okay?”

12 hours wasn’t nearly enough time for you to get those sketches done, but you did it anyway, thanks to coffee and binge worthy shows.

You did so good, this was just another excuse for him to be able to finish inside you again, a hand wrapped around your throat to keep you still in the small office chair as he sung your praises about how much you were growing under his teachings.

He’d caress your face sweetly before sliding his thumb into your mouth, watching you suck on command. He loved the way you did as you were told without question.

“My pretty baby. You take it so well”

So proud you didn’t even need prepping from his fingers this time, your pussy greedily swallowed his dick and allowed him to fuck the way he wanted to. Feverishly. Every touch from him so fucking needy that he could just bite you. Your ass would be next, the size of him deliciously stretching you out with the help of your own slick and his spit as lubricant.

Maybe this little exchange was making you better as an artist. It seemed so. The insults were coming less and less, your designs were getting accepted more and more.

Boss!Lewis, who took you out to celebrate your growth, gifting you a ring with a tiny L carved on the inside of it and red bottom shoes that would stun the office. He treated you with the utmost respect with the paparazzi watching, making sure the image was nothing more than him going out to eat with one of his protégés innocently tagging along. Then, he took you back to his place and fucked you like a slut.

Your mouth was left open so wide you were convinced it would eventually lock in place like that. He didn’t even let you make it to the bed, the floor and your arched back was all he needed to get as deep as he wanted inside of you. You could scream all you wanted there. You were sure his maids got the hint to stay away from the foyer by now.

After he finished using you how he wanted, stuffing you full with his cum until he was perfectly satisfied, he’d kiss you on your forehead as if nothing had happened and you’d thank him. For tonight, and all your opportunities.

“I think someone deserves a promotion now”

Finally, you were where you needed to be.

✮✮✮✮

💌— I really hope yall liked this cause I cannot get Boss!Lewis off of my fucking mind 😭 I need him so bad yall like I literally had to FORCE myself to stop writing more smut in this 💔💔💔💔

[lieslab]

If we could only turn back time

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: After a Dispatch article leaks, your betrayed boyfriend kicks you out of your shared apartment and you're silenced in the worst way possible.

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 5.1K

Trigger warning: Misunderstood trope, physical assault, anger, yelling, a car accident, plus graphic descriptions of physical injuries, and doctors/hospitals.

A/N: I had three hours of sad One Direction music, one request, and a dream. Requestee, you asked for angst and I have given it my all. I hope this meets every expectation and more <3

_ _ _

You were the light of Bang Chan’s life. At least, that’s what he thought. For months, his love grew for you. Over time, he opened up more and more. You crawled into his heart and made yourself at home. 

And then you tore it open. 

He thought he finally had the love of his life, but it turns out, you were just like the others. Not really loving him, but dragging along, clinging onto clout, and when the next man came, you jumped with both feet. You didn’t even say goodbye, but neither did he. 

There was no warning for either of you. One day, the two of you were head over heels for each other. The next, everything fell apart. Hearts cracked like stained glass. Tears fell, but the words from both of you didn’t provide the comfort the other so desperately craved. 

In the end, two hearts ripped apart. The world tipped in the wrong direction. You both lost your footing and for weeks, nothing would be the same for either of you, ever again. 

~ ~ ~ 

When you came home from buying groceries, the apartment was quiet, like usual. Chan’s warm presence had been gone since this morning. Up at the crack of dawn, he disappeared to continue making his dreams come true. 

You missed him when he was gone, just as he missed you, but dreams were important. No matter what happened between the two of you, it was the one thing you both agreed that it was important. No matter where your life took you, the most important thing was keeping focused on your dreams. 

Yes, the two of you were in love, but that wasn’t stopping either of you from pursuing your passions. Not yet engaged, the two of you vowed to be supportive of each other. Through thick and thin, in the risky moments, and everything in between; you swore to be there for one another. 

Your bare feet glided across the tile floor with ease. Without Chan, the apartment felt empty, but that didn’t stop you from trying to make it feel warm and fuzzy. Over on the side counter, you turned on the candle warmer. Maybe by the time Chan got home, the apartment would be full of a welcoming vanilla buttercream. 

You swore his cologne had hints of vanilla. He disagreed with you and insisted you didn’t know your scents. Just to prove a point, you bought the vanilla candle, and yet, he refused to see it.

He could be stubborn like that sometimes. Certain things he couldn’t see. No matter how hard and how obvious you attempted to make these things, he refused to see them. Sometimes, it was more frustrating than anything, but you learned to deal with every part of him; the good and the bad. 

You had your own set of flaws, too. Out of everyone existing in the world, there was nobody that you wanted to be with more than Chan. The two of you were still so young. There was a lifetime of adventures and fun to have. You were hoping the relationship between the two of you would last forever. 

It ended when Chan stormed through your front door. The bang of the front door slamming against the sidewall sent your heart racing. You grabbed a can of peas for defense and held your breath. 

Footsteps stormed through your living room. Your fingers turned pale around the can. A sigh of relief fell from you when you saw the furrow on Chan’s face. “Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me. What’s wrong, baby? What happened?” 

You put down the can and walked towards him. Your hands stretched out to grab his face. To your surprise, he swatted them away. Your eyes widen at the faint sting. “What are you-” 

“You don’t get to baby me after what you did!” 

“I-I did something? What did I-” 

“Shut up! You don’t get to pretend like you don’t know! You know I’ve felt like a piece of shit because I can’t be here twenty-four-seven! You know I travel for work and yet you still choose to hurt me in the worst way possible!” 

Confusion filled your face and it just pissed him off more. He jerked his Samsung phone from his pocket. You watched as he typed in the password. Your actions from the past few days rolled through your head like stop-motion. Each silent click, more scenes filled your head. 

None of them stood out. You couldn’t recall what you did wrong, but Chan was furious. Your mouth opened, but words didn’t come out. He flipped the screen to find the bold words of a Dispatch article. Your heart hit the ground with a sickening splat. 

Trouble in paradise: A Rocky Road Ahead For Stray Kids’ Bang Chan’s Romantic Relationship. 

Attached, two photos of you grinning at another JYP idol from another group. In one, you were waving at them. In another, you were leaning over and hugging them. 

“It’s not what it looks like!” 

“Really? Because you know what it looks like to me? It looks like you were attempting to hide a close relationship with someone in a younger group.” 

“That’s not true! Chan, it’s Dispatch! You can’t possibly believe that I-” 

“I want you out of my apartment.” 

Your face fell at his words. “You…you wouldn’t. Please, just let me explain and I-” 

“When have you ever talked about him? Never! You’ve never been close to another idol! Yet now, you’re hugging him?” 

“Chan, please!” 

“Get out!” 

“But-” 

“Out!” His voice raised. “Get your stuff and get the fuck out of my apartment! Don’t bother coming back!” 

The words were loud enough to frighten you. You left the grocery bags scattered on the kitchen island and took off. Tears filled your eyes. You wanted to explain, but he kept cutting you off. 

Too heated to think about the situation, his insecurities got the best of him. In the kitchen, he slumped against the counter with his head in his hands. Warm tears filled his eyes at the sound of your sniffles. 

He wanted to comfort you, but the hurt was too much. He grew to love you with everything he had and within one Dispatch article, his swollen heart popped. How could you do this to him? After everything the two of you had been through, why did you have to ruin it? 

Tears blurred your vision and you didn’t look back. You jerked items from the closet and tossed them in your suitcase. Grabbing handfuls from each of your dresser drawers, you tossed them in with everything. Even the toiletries, you didn’t have time to organize them. 

Chan wanted you to go, so you’d leave. At the end of the day, this was his apartment. You paid rent, but his name was the first on the contract. He paid the down payment, not you. 

You gave him one last desperate look as you passed by, but he didn’t see it. His name fell from your mouth in a weak croak, but he didn’t pull his hands from his eyes. “Please, just go away.” 

You spun around, gripped your suitcase tighter, and then you did. 

~ ~ ~ 

All night, you drove around without a destination in mind. You refused to call one of Chan’s members and plead for help. It’d only stir up drama in the group. That was the last thing you wanted. 

Numbness hung over your head. You still couldn’t believe everything that happened a few hours ago. If he would have listened, he would have understood. The tears dried up a while ago, but the empty feeling in your chest didn’t go away. 

Seoul’s late afternoon crept into another dark night. Gray blotted skies drifted into a pitch black. Neon lights reflected off the paint on your car, but the warm colors didn’t warm your heart. 

The car felt lonely without Chan. You’d give anything to hear his laughter from beside you. The playful banter while he reminded you to turn on the correct turn signal. It’d been a constant inside joke between the two of you. Ever since you accidentally flicked on the wrong signal and turned the wrong way, he’d never let it go. 

The way he tipped his head forward. Messy tendrils of dark hair fell over his forehead. His squeaky laugh warmed your heart. Such a far comparison from the anger that rattled the apartment walls earlier. 

You poked his dimples between the stoplights. On nights when the two of you wanted to get away from everyday life, you found peace in this car. You’d drive and be in control for once. He’d sit beside you with a hand on your thigh. 

Simple conversations filled the car. Love pooled between the two of you. Shared laughter, quiet conversations, and the secret getaway that your car provided you’d do anything to turn back time. 

You loved him for a reason. You always had and you always would. Just because photos told one story, it didn’t mean they told the entire story. Snippets didn’t capture the truth. The context was important, but Chan was too distraught tonight. 

Too stressed out. Too angry. Too frustrated. Things built up and that article was the breaking point. Those photographs became thorns in your relationship. In one day, the roses wilted. Withered petals gathered at your feet. 

Tomorrow would be better, you reassured yourself as you drove. Tomorrow, Chan would realize he was wrong. He jumped the gun in this situation. In the morning, he’d call you and apologize. 

Tomorrow, you’d be welcomed home with a heartfelt apology and a bouquet of fresh flowers. A glass full of red wine, sweets, and a home cooked dinner. Tomorrow, things will be okay again. These tears were temporary. This hurt wouldn’t last forever. 

At a stoplight, you grabbed your phone and dialed Changbin’s number. On speaker phone, you waited and waited, but he didn’t pick up. If anyone would know the truth and be able to rationalize Chan’s brain, it was him. 

The red light from the stoplights highlighted faint tear streaks. You sniffled, wiping your long sleeve across your dripping nose. Your eyes shut and your voice cut out and quivered as you spoke. 

“Please know that I didn’t mean to cause him or you guys any harm. I ran into him the other day and asked if he could help teach me a dance. He’s one of JYP’s best dancers and I know Stray Kids are busy. His group is on break and I just thought I could surprise Chan with a dance.” 

“Saying it out loud, I get that it’s stupid now. I was just hoping it’d cheer him up. He’s been so stressed lately. I thought the least I could do was make him laugh.” 

“If you get a chance and if he’s willing to hear it, please let him know I love him. I love him and I’m sorry. Dispatch is stupid and I hate them. You can even ask that idol and he’ll tell you the same thing. I’m so sorry, Changbin. I’ll talk to you later. I have to find a place to stay tonight.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and shut your eyes. After clicking the end call button on your phone, you threw the device into your passenger’s seat. Maybe if you were lucky, Chan would hear out Changbin. Level-headed and rational, you knew Chan appreciated the advice he gave out. 

A car horn honked behind you. Your eyes quickly reopened and the green light stared back at you. Unblinking, you grumbled beneath your breath. “I’m going, I’m going, geez.” You inched out into the intersection, expecting to continue going straight. 

You weren’t expecting your car to jerk left. Your screams blended with the sound of crushing metal. Orange sparks flew. The sickening scent of burnt rubber and diesel hit your nose. Your seatbelt cut into your neck and briefly cut off your air flow. 

The last thing you remembered was the horn of the semi-truck vibrating your entire car. 

~ ~ ~ 

It wasn’t Dispatch that was the first one to find out about the devastating car accident; instead, it was Jeongin. He sucked in a deep breath as he walked into the hospital. Last night, after struggling with the flu, someone admitted his friend to the hospital. 

He mumbled beneath his breath, trying to figure out what to say. A blue medical mask sat over his nose and mouth. He knew to keep his distance, but he still felt awful that they were here. 

Hospitals were lonely. In the brief moments when families and friends disappeared. When the nurses were following their routine rounds and doctors were checking in on other patients, people were left alone. The isolating white walls. The uncomfortable piercing beeps from the heart rate monitor. The cold IV drips, distributing medicine directly into the bloodstream. 

Surgical stitches ached. Disease weighed heavily upon the lungs. Intubation and the mechanical push and pull of oxygen and carbon dioxide. Hospitals were the opposite of warm and welcoming. Cold and sterile, he rather wished his friend was at home. 

The colorful bouquet of multicolored flowers was the brightest thing in the hallway. Closed doors with numbers passed by as he walked. The nurse’s announcement of his friend’s room number echoed in his head. 

It dissipated when he heard your name from a nurse in a cracked room. Before he knew it, he was pushing the door open and stepping inside. On the hospital bed, you were unrecognizable. Scrapes and cuts laced your face. Both plum purple eyes swelled shut.  

The right side of your face puffed up unnaturally. Black stitches poked out from the bottom of your lip. That was just your face. That wasn’t beginning to touch the cast on your arm and the rest of your body hidden beneath the blue covers. 

He knew it was you. He recognized the promise ring on your ring finger. He had helped Chan pick it out. He glanced around, searching for Chan, but he wasn’t there.

“Are you lost?” 

He glanced up to find the nurse. Her blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail. She observed him through black, circular-rimmed glasses. 

He shook his head and repeated your name. The nurse frowned and he pointed to you. “Is this-” 

“Are you family?” 

“Brother.” 

You weren’t biologically related, but it felt true deep down. 

~ ~ ~ 

Changbin tried to bring the situation up to Chan, but every time he spoke your name, Chan would shut down. From what Changbin knew, Chan didn’t know what happened to you. The rest of the guys did, but they all received the same results. Every time they spoke your name, Chan grew irritated and short-tempered. 

“I don’t want to talk about them! Stop bringing them up! Enough!” 

The charming and charismatic leader unraveled at the seams. His heart was full of love for you and you ruined it. That wasn’t something he took lightly. The hurt oozed out in other ways. 

His songs weren’t coming together as easily anymore. He used to get your feedback when he went home, but now the apartment was empty. The bed was colder without you. He was lonely, but he wouldn’t admit it. 

He snapped during dance practice. After he snapped at a manager, a manager lectured him about authority and respecting his elders. Nobody understood the hurt that he was going through. It didn’t help that Dispatch began showing up and bothering him. 

They could take all the pictures they wanted. He’d never give them the satisfaction of breaking his heart. Instead of listening, he put on his airpods and cranked up the music. He shoved through the camera flashes with his baseball hat low and a face mask covering the rest of his face. They didn’t deserve to turn his heartbreak into entertainment. 

He’d never let them break him. They already did it once. You were gone and the longer you went without a call or a text, he assumed they were right. They caught you cheating and you accepted it. You didn’t fight for your relationship. 

You didn’t call and beg for him to take you back. You didn’t call and try to explain. He sent you one text, but you never opened it. He was at a complete loss without you. 

Some would call him stubborn for it, but he’d say that he was just trying to protect himself from more hurt. 

~ ~ ~ 

The lonely days for you didn’t stay lonely for long. Jeongin discovered you hours after your accident. The days slipped by, but you weren’t alone anymore. Unconscious and pumped full of medicine, sure. They were far from lonely. 

Every evening, the guys took turns hanging out beside your bed. Seungmin would sing the songs you liked. Jeongin told you funny stories of Chan, trying to bring you back to consciousness. Minho brought you warm comments from the fans who found out about your accident. The rest of the guys had their own things, but Chan’s voice never filled the room. 

Stuck in a coma, things were dark. Occasionally, you could hear the beeping of your machines. You could feel your lungs expand and compress unnaturally. Your body felt like a shell more than anything. Voices came and went, but never Chan’s. 

In the darkness, you couldn’t see. You weren’t sure if you were dead or not. Stranger’s voices appeared in soft whispers and then they faded. You weren’t sure what was going on, but you knew you were exhausted. 

Those audible voices and sounds never lasted for long. You couldn’t feel pain. Every sensation within you felt numbed. A heavy fog filled your head and something clouded your vision. 

You attempted to open your eyes every so often, but they didn’t budge. Someone glued them shut. Every limb tingled with tiny pins and needles. You didn’t know if this was death, but it didn’t feel comforting. Somewhere between the realm of the living and dead, doctors kept you in a medically induced coma. 

How else could they heal the swelling of your brain? ~ ~ ~  

“I can’t take this anymore!” Felix cried out. He shoved himself from the chair and pulled out his phone. “This is such bullshit! I’m tired of keeping this from him.”

“Well, we’ve tried. What do you propose we do? Tell him to get to the hospital without mentioning his significant other’s name?” Seungmin crossed his arms over his chest. “Good luck. We’ve tried everything and it’s been twenty-something days.” 

“Actually, that’s exactly what we should do. How much longer can this go on for? This is pathetic, even for him! I get that he’s hurt, but look at them!” He reached over and gestured towards your bed. 

You remained intubated and unmoving. The swelling in your puffy eyes faded a little more each day, but they still looked awful. The stitches in your lips disappeared, but a fresh pink scar remained. 

Swirls of purple and blue smeared along your face. Broken bones reset and were on the mend. You were a living miracle. The first responders were afraid you wouldn’t make it, but when they pulled you from the wreckage, you continued breathing. 

So he unlocked his phone and hit Chan’s contact name. 

“Hello?” 

“Chan?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You need to get to the hospital right now. Call me when you get here.” 

“WHAT?” 

“I can’t talk. Just call me when you get here.” 

“Felix!” 

He grimaced and hung up the phone. Seungmin shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You probably gave him a heart attack. He’s going to kill you when he gets here, you know?” 

“That’s a problem for later.” ~ ~ ~ 

Chan flew from his apartment. His heart pounded in his chest and he couldn’t breathe. Losing you was hard enough. If anything happened to a member of his group, he’d never forgive himself. 

“Come on, come on!” He fumbled with his seat belt in one hand. With the other, he swung his car door shut. In seconds, he jerked the car in reverse and slammed the pedal. 

He lurched down the driveway, spun the wheel with a rubbered squeal, and shifted the car into drive. The engine roared and he sped down the road. 

What-ifs grew stronger on the way to the hospital. His breath caught in his throat and he struggled to stay calm. Last he knew, everyone was fine so what happened? Who? How bad was it? 

The moment he parked, he whipped out his phone and dialed Felix’s number. When Felix responded, his voice came out frantic. “I’m here! Where are you?” 

“Room one-twelve. I’ll meet you half-way. I’ll see you soon.” 

“Wait, who is-” 

Click. 

“Fucking hell!” He cried out. He grabbed the keys, sped from the car, and rushed towards the automatic door. 

Everything was a blur inside. Voices appeared from the waiting room. The receptionist glanced over the front desk and eyed him, but she didn’t stop him. He glanced left and right and opted to go left. 

The carpet disappeared beneath his feet and turned into squeaky clean white vinyl. An easy material to clean and disinfect daily. He rushed forward when he saw Felix appear down the edge of the hall. 

The squeak of his shoes didn’t matter. He ignored the doctor he passed that told him to stop running. By the time he reached Felix, he grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. “Who is it? What happened? Tell me!” 

“Just, come on.” 

“Felix!” 

Felix didn’t budge. He grabbed Chan’s wrist and pulled him along. His chest filled with anxiety and his lungs compressed. When the pair appeared at the right door, Felix dropped his wrist and slowly pushed the door open. 

He expected to find Han or Jeongin. A broken and battered Hyunjin or Changbin hooked to oxygen. This was the intensive care unit. This was for the severe cases. The patients that required a close eye and keen detailing. 

Upon seeing you, his face fell. The bruising upon your face. The tube down your throat. Your lifeless skin and unmoving limbs. There was no sign of the life the two of you created. 

No reassuring smiles, or laughter. Seungmin sat solemnly beside your bed in a chair. “I’m shocked that you finally made it.” 

“What the hell happened?” He hurried to the opposite side of your bed. His hand reached out, but he didn’t touch you. Too frightened by your state, he didn’t know where he could touch without causing you pain. 

“Try their hand,” an unfamiliar voice spoke up. He whirled around to find a nurse in blue scrubs. “Their hands survived the crash. You can touch their hands if you wish.” 

“Sorry, I came in to get some vitals. It’ll only be a few moments and then I can leave you alone. Visiting hours are open until eleven o’clock tonight. I’ve never seen you here before, so I thought you should know.” 

“How long have they been like this?” He whispered. Tears filled his eyes and his heart ached. 

“Since the night you told them to leave your apartment.” 

“What?” 

“Felix!” Seungmin’s voice shot out sternly. “It’s not like that, Chan. Yes, the accident happened that night, but don’t beat yourself up over it. A driver of a semi-truck was speeding and couldn’t stop in time.” 

“That was nearly a-” 

“I’m sorry, hyung.” Felix’s hand appeared on his shoulder. “We tried to tell you, but every time we tried to utter their name, you were angry. We should have found a better way to tell you, but…” He trailed off, unsure of what else to say. 

The nurse grabbed your vitals and disappeared to give the guys time with you. Chan collapsed to his knees and grabbed your hand with both of his. For nearly a month, you’d been stuck in this bed. He thought you’d given up on the relationship with him. 

This entire time you haven't texted him back. Not because you were angry. Not because you were sad. Not because Dispatch’s rumors were true. But it was because you physically couldn’t. Intubated and trapped in a medically induced coma, you couldn’t reach out, even if you wanted to. 

“I’m so sorry,” he croaked. “I’m so sorry, I-I thought that they-” 

“Easy, hyung.” 

“What did I do? What the fuck did I do? If I wouldn’t have kicked them out of the apartment, this wouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have been so angry. I should have let them explain.” 

Seungmin shot Felix a look. He shrugged and gently rubbed Chan’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault, Channie. You were hurting and you didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

He was supposed to be the leader. A strong pillar and an even stronger influence on his younger members. As the eldest member, he was supposed to be reliable. At that moment, he crumbled. Tears appeared in his eyes as a sob broke from his chest. 

No wonder you had been so quiet. He called you once and hit your voicemail. He longed to hit the call button, just so he could hear your voice again. He squeezed your hand tighter and pressed it against his cheek. 

“Wake up. Wake up, baby, please! Come back to me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I'm so sorry!” 

Tears blurred his vision. He struggled to comprehend your mangled face. Your other hand sat wrapped in a cast. You must have been so broken when you arrived here. He wasn’t here to comfort you. He wasn’t here to try and console and cheer you up. 

A wheeze fell from his throat. The betrayal slicing through his heart disappeared. This time, he felt like he was the one that had betrayed you. He hurt you in the most unimaginable way possible. 

You laid here broken and half-dead. You spent hours fighting for your life alone. And where was he? Walking around your shared apartment drowning in his own self-pity. He’d never forgive himself for this. 

“What is this?” He finally whispered after his sobs faded away. His throat was raw. His voice came out scratchy. “How bad is it?” 

“The doctor said they should wake up at any time. They weren’t breathing on their own. A medically induced coma ensured to make sure their brain’s swelling could stop.” 

“It was that bad? They’ve been suffering through all that alone?” His bottom lip quivered. He grew afraid of the response he’d receive. 

“No,” Seungmin spoke up. “Jeongin found out first. He was the one that notified us. He said he tried to tell you, but when he showed up at your apartment, you told him to leave.” 

Horror filled Chan at the memory. Later that same night, back when you left, Jeongin appeared on his front porch pale. Instead of hearing out the younger member, he told him to get lost and slammed the door in his face. Deep down, he was afraid to be viewed as weak in front of the younger member. 

The memory stung his heart. Poor Jeongin just wanted him to know the truth and he slammed the door in his face. No wonder Jeongin seemed so nervous around him. He was probably worried that Chan would find out the truth and yell at him for not telling him. 

He rubbed his face and pawed at his eyes. “So does everyone know?” 

“Everyone besides you.” 

“Sorry you’re late. None of us knew how to get you here. You’d never listen when we tried to talk about them.” 

“I was such a stupid, selfish asshole.” 

“You were hurting,” Felix corrected him. 

“And a stupid, selfish asshole.” 

“You were.” 

“Seungmin!” Felix cried. 

“No, I want him to know that he was. I’m not going to sit here and pity him. You were a jerk, Chan. I hope you remember this moment whenever you try to act like an asshole again.” 

The words were a slap in the face, and yet he wanted to laugh. As harsh as Seungmin’s words were, they rang true. He was a jerk and maybe, in the cruelest way possible, this was his karma. 

He opened his mouth to respond, but paused when your fingernails scratched at his hand. The tube in your throat caused you to choke. You couldn’t fully see as your eyes half-opened. Still swollen, your vision remained limited. Silhouettes appeared and voices became more distinct. 

“Get a nurse!” 

Footsteps hit the ground. You gargled and reached your opened mouth. “No, no, no! You can’t touch that yet.” 

“Easy, love. Try to relax and don’t fight the tube. It’s breathing for you right now.” 

The distress and quickened-pace of the heart rate monitor hit a hiccup. Chan’s familiar voice grounded you, but you still struggled with the tube. Your lungs wanted to expand, but the machine compressed them. You choked again, still fighting the pesky thing. 

More footsteps. Another silhouette. Glasses on an unfamiliar face and latex rubbing against your skin. “It’s okay, you’re safe. I’m going to take this out now, okay? On the count of three. One, two, three!” 

You gasped and coughed at the removal. Your lungs filled with air of your own accord. More coughing. You attempted to swallow, but your mouth was so dry. The lingering phantom of a headache filled the side of your head. 

“Try a sip of this, sweetheart.” 

The nurse’s tone was honey to your ears. You swallowed the water the moment it hit your lips. One swallow and then another. Two more and suddenly, you were gulping like crazy. 

“Easy, or you’ll choke,” Chan gently reminded you. 

The nurse pulled the glass away when you finished. “Do you know where you are?” 

“Hospital?” 

“Do you remember your name?” 

“Chan?” 

“I’m right here, honey. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere. Do you remember your name? This nice nurse wants to help you get better. Your doctor is on his way.” 

Every question asked, you answered it perfectly. A buzz of excitement swirled around the room from your consciousness. Seungmin and Felix left the room to give everyone the good news. 

When the doctor concluded you were stable, he disappeared with the nurse. A silence fell between you and Chan. You still couldn’t see perfectly, but you could feel the weight of his hand in yours. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry for that night.” 

“I don’t want to talk about that night.” 

“I was an idiot.” 

“Dumbass,” you weakly corrected him. 

“I see getting hit by a semi-truck hasn’t taken away your sass.” 

“If I can survive this, I can survive anything.” 

“I love you and I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, I love you and I don’t want to hear anything else about that. I’m so tired. Can you sing me to sleep or something?” 

“If I do, promise you won’t die?” 

“I promise.” 

Even if you couldn’t make out his face, you knew his voice, and that was good enough for you. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @danihwang882 @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[dollzites]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ SEUNGHYUN (T.O.P) AS YOUR HUSBAND

୨ৎ pairing: husband!seunghyun x fem reader

୨ৎ genre: fluff! with mild sex talk

୨ৎ from myeong: hi!!! super duper excited to take this request since he’s been my love since I was a very young girl! have always looked up to him and I’m so happy to be writing for him!! and he’s back?! wooo!! please enjoy this! x

he’s going to be a very caring, attentive, and thoughtful husband. I don’t care what anyone else says about him, he’s going to be the bestest husband and do all that he can to make you happy.

is he perfect? nope. not even close to it and no one is perfect but what he does is try and he shows you that he cares and cares enough to work hard to keep the relationship as healthy as it can be.

sometimes isn’t clingy because he wants you to be the one to break first. he definitely enjoys watching you run to him for a hug, kiss, or something else.

shy!!!! he’s not shy all the time and likes to be the dominant one in the relationship of course and in a very non toxic way but when he does feel shy it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen a man do.

“what? you think this suit looks good on me? oh.. it’s what they told me to wear and honestly I wasn’t sure if it was too much.. but since you like it—”

he won’t finish because he’s looking down at the ground cheeks slightly pink from feeling a bit shy and embarrassed by how you keep staring at him and complimenting him. sounds weird for him hm? well! you’re just that special girl to him. I mean come on he married you!! he’s a different man now.

is very overly protective over you. will do all that he can to protect you and your relationship. since you are now a married couple he takes it to another level of wanting you and him protected as a couple.

“would you like to try this new dish with me? I can make it! or.. maybe.. we can cook it together?”

please cook with him because he secretly loves it and falls more in love with you watching how you cut up vegetables and the look on your pretty face when you’re concentrated and working. so cute

seunghyun is very obsessed with morning sex especially now as a married couple he just feels it’s needed and if you both don’t have time in the morning then expect before bedtime sex.

he loves trying new things with you. when he first brought up pulling hair.. it wasn’t yours. it was his. you pulled on his soft black locks and he felt this spark inside of him that he’s never felt before.

if it was a long night of sex he purposely gets up before you and makes you breakfast but not in bed since he’ll kindly drag you out of bed and have you sit at the table with him but you always end up sitting in his lap which he enjoys more of course.

“you’re such a pretty girl did you know that?”

“I.. love you a lot. thank you for loving me despite everything that I’ve been through. thank you.”

he’s a cautious husband and never wants you to feel hurt or anything close to that. he’ll do all that he can to make sure you’re happy, comfortable, and safe. he’s careful with his words especially when you two get into small arguments. he’s learned from the past on what not to do.

seunghyun is very emotional and he’s not afraid to show that with you. when he was younger it was a different story but he’s older now and has been through things that has shown him it’s okay to show such emotions. he trusts you as his wife and always cries in your arms if he desperately needs it.

expect movie nights with him!! which end in not watching the movie at all and just talking to each other about the weirdest topics or space of course.

will take so many pictures of you posing next to the moon specially the full moon since it’s his favorite! he finds it beautiful just like you. cries

nights in are his favorite but if you want to go out then he’ll do that for you. he’ll enjoy going on walks with you while eating ice cream his most favorite sweets. his free hand will hold yours tightly.

craves you in every way possible. he’ll need to kiss you often and stroke your hair or pull you closer to him and his larger frame. he enjoys how much shorter you are and constantly brings it up.

[snoopychris]

phone calls

warnings: slight mommy kink, edging if you squint, misuse of technology, lowkey inspired by this post

12:04 

chris

chris

baby

12:05

hello?

it’s cold

and raining

12:06

can you just come let me in

12:07 

dude the gym closes at 1:30 so that they can do a midday clean btw.

12:08

hello???

????

omfg 

you piss me off

12:09

HELLO?!?!?!?

are you fucking kidding me

you’re unbelievable 

12:10

whatever i’m going home 

text me if u want.

you spun swiftly on your heels, the light jacket you were wearing wrapped tightly around your frame. it was never normal for chris to not answer his texts, especially when he got so many of them. especially when they were from you. when you were halfway down the stairs, the door behind you swung open. the heavy breathing that was coming from chris quickly got your attention. your immediate reaction was that he was having some sort of asthma attack. 

your worry subsided when you noticed the small wet spot that was on the front of his sweats. he swallows in embarrassment, licking his lips as he looks down at the floor in shame. no words are spoken, but his expression says everything it needs you. he moves away from the door, leaving enough room for you to walk inside. when he sits down on the couch, he still hasn’t made eye contact with you. he’s too embarrassed to even acknowledge your presence. 

“what happened here?” you tease, sitting besides him on the couch. his boner is still clearly pressed up against the material. chris shrugs as he mindlessly turns the tv on, purposely ignoring you and your question. maybe if he stays silent you’ll ignore both the tent in his pants and the wet spot that seemed to be growing. “chris.”

“nothing. nothing happened. my phone was just dead.” he whispers, crossing his legs in attempts to cover himself up. your eyes furrow in confusion. had you mentioned his phone? 

“chris…” you pry, tossing the pillow off his lap. he whines in frustration, throwing his head back. he could try to lie his way out of the situation, but he knows there’s no use. 

“well! it’s just… you took way longer than you said you would and i was just getting so frustrated and i haven’t seen you in a week so i started looking at our pictures while i was jerking off and then when you started texting me… it felt good. and i was reading all your text i was! and then i was getting so close and you said you were leaving and i didn’t want you to go so i just… and now… im just. i was so close to cumming and i didn’t okay?!” chris doesn’t even realize how much information he just gave you or what you can do with it. not until he sees the wide smirk on your face. there’s so many different things running through his mind. the most prominent is how incredibly hard he is and how he can’t do anything to fix it right now.

another whine escapes from the depths of his throat when you tug his pants down swiftly, his lack of underwear doing him no favors at all. he wants to tell you to stop– not because he actually wants you to stop but because hes embarrassed by the situation at hand. he squirms at your touch, thrusting his dick against your hand. his tip is embarrassingly red from his unintentional edging earlier, and its covered in so much precum and spit that it seems like he had been at it for hours. when you let him go, his cock slaps against his hoodie covered stomach. no matter how desperately he wants to touch himself and bring himself to the orgasm hes been so desperately craving for what felt like ages, he knew you held the power right now. 

“please… please baby please help me.” chris mumbles, letting out a gasp when you begin to giggle. you were being so cruel to him right now. how was he supposed to act normal and stay quiet when you were just laughing at him and not even helping?

“wheres your phone?” you ask, searching around the couch. chris scrambles to reach into his pocket, handing you the phone with shaky hands. you grab it carefully, holding it up against his length. he was a bit bigger than his phone, but he wasn’t paying much attention to your actions. all he was trying to do was reach the feeling he had been yearning for. chris only starts to pay attention when you grab your own phone and begin to dial a number. he wants to ask who you’re possibly calling in this moment, but he quickly pieces it together when his phone begins to buzz while pressed against his tip. 

there’s a groan that leaves his lips that’s a lot louder than he wants it to be. he doesn’t care right now. right now he just cares about the fact that your call got sent to voicemail and the buzzing halted. “no no nooo!” he whimpers, reaching for your wrist to move it for you. you tsk and shake your head, handing him your phone. “go ahead. call me again. you want it so bad you can work for it.” tears of frustration form in his eyes at your words. fine.

with shaky hands, chris picks up your phone, pressing the call back button. with each ring on your side, the vibrations seem to be getting stronger on his. he knows it’s not possible, but it feels like which each buzz the feeling is getting more and more intense. he lets out a small cry after the fifth or sixth phone call, his cock beginning to twitch between your hand and his phone. 

it’s pathetic, almost, given that it’s only been about two minutes of constant weak vibrations. you almost want to show him sympathy. he must’ve been a lot more desperate than you had expected if he was cumming this soon. “please… fuck mama please let me cum.” he whispers, his hips thrusting up to meet the vibrations all the way through. “y’gonna cum for me? you gonna make a mess all over your phone? imagine what people would think if they knew you used your phone as a sex toy… how would that make you feel? like a desperate little slut?” you reply, clicking his contact on your phone once more. the vibrations start up again as chris moans, nodding his head rapidly. “please! fuck please please.” he whines, biting his lip. his orgasm hits him faster than he expects, because within seconds of his last plea, white spurts of his cum are coating his phone case. it’s a sight you wish you could’ve recorded but both of your phones were occupied. 

it takes chris a second to catch his breath. it takes you a second to comprehend the situation that just went down. you shrug it off— it’s not the weirdest thing you’ve ever done. as you gather your thoughts next to him, you lay your head down on your boyfriends shoulder. “so like… are we still going to the gym or are we gonna go to best buy and get one of those waterproof cases?”

a/n: please nobody talk to me after this one. thanks and apologies in advance.

dividers by @13hoax and @bernardsbendystraws

tags: @mattybsgroupie @whore4mattsturniolo @sosasturns (for the 1 mili party) @darksturnz @surprisecurlyfriesbackup @ribbonlovergirl @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbratt333 @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @ayesha-eroticaa @bluessturniolo @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @emely9274 @princessesgarden @marrykisskilled @cykss

[ekkkkey]

there will be games! (chapter II)

summary: Cassandra, a quiet and loyal wife to the much older Senator Tiberius, accidentally attracts the unsettling attention of Emperor Caracalla at a lavish feast hosted by Senator Thraex...

warnings: 18+ minors dni, noncon, dub-con, non-consensual drug use, when the emperor is a bit insane, mommy issues, daddy issues, every kind of issues—this little shit has them all (he’s so cute)

word count: 5k words

chapter I

«No woman could feel safe if her beauty or name aroused the emperor's curiosity.»

-Suetonius, The Twelve Caesars (Caligula, Chapter 36)

⋆ ⋆ ☼ ⋆ ⋆

She didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to leave their room, all she wanted was to go home. Not to their new villa in Rome, not even to her husband's old house. Cassandra longed for her childhood home, with her father and sisters, where she could always be the little girl.

"You're an early bird today," Tiberius said, waking and stretching towards her.

Her heart skipped, her palms sweaty with worry.

"Those who apologize properly deserve forgiveness, don't they, little bird?" - another voice, deceptively tender but promising nothing good, echoed in her mind.

Cassandra wrapped herself tighter in the sheet, licking her lips, hiding her body from her husband, not wanting his touch.

"I slept poorly. And I don't feel well. When will we return home?"

Tiberius got up, his brief morning tenderness replaced by his usual sour mood.

"When the games end. Not before. I've got business."

Normally gentle and shy, she never argued with him, but this time, she tossed the sheet aside and jumped up, chasing after him, desperate to talk face-to-face. Her hands shook. She pictured herself – pale, nervous, dark circles under her eyes, hair a mess, more like a madwoman than a loving wife. Ashamed of her sudden anger, Cassandra covered up again.

"I feel awful, I'm nauseous, could it be a child, Tiberius?" she tried to elicit some sympathy, pressing her hand to her stomach.

She couldn't stand another moment in the palace.

"Tell me, wife, what troubles you so much?" - he took a step forward. She had never truly feared him, but suddenly realized that after yesterday, both he disgusted her and she feared him. It was his fault! Everything that happened to her was his fault!

"I'm really not well."

"And where better than the emperor's palace to find a good physician?"

Realizing her words were futile, she slumped back on the bed's edge, and Tiberius knelt in front of her, resting his cheek against her leg.

"The emperor," he began, "Emperor Caracalla, he's ill. His mind is rotting, just like his body, so you won't find better physicians here. Should I call someone for you?"

Cassandra couldn't breathe, pulling away from her husband, standing up in a daze, not caring about her nudity. Even when servants walked in, she didn't cover up, lost in dark thoughts.

Emperor Caracalla's mind was afflicted by a disease? What kind of disease? She knew nothing about medicine and couldn't even guess. Did this make him more dangerous, or was his nature already cruel and violent? His smirking face flashed in her mind, his mood swings, his smile turning to a sneer...

Cassandra flinched when someone touched her from behind. She quickly scolded herself.

"Stop, he won't burst into your chambers while you're with your husband!" - she repeated, but she didn't believe it, if he wanted, he'd take her right in front of Tiberius, and no one would stop him.

She spent the entire morning trying to comfort herself, but her anxiety only grew. First, Tiberius noticed the purple bite on her skin. She managed to excuse it, saying he'd had too much wine and hadn't been gentle with her in bed. He believed her.

She was horrified again when the slave girls began to dress her.

"This isn't my clothing!" - the fabrics were too vivid and fine, and they...they smelled of aromatic oils and powder.

"Not yours, true, but we'll be here for some time, and until your clothes arrive from the villa, you need something to wear, don't you?" her husband murmured, looking at her like a piece of art. "You can't just walk around naked, can you?"

She would have preferred to parade through the palace entirely naked rather than willingly wear the clothes and jewels Caracalla had sent her, fully aware of how pleased he would be. Yet, the problem was, her nude debut would have left him equally pleased.

The stands were louder than ever, and only when they entered the imperial box did she understand why. The Colosseum was flooded!

They were late due to her distraction and sluggishness; if she had her way, they wouldn't have come at all, but there she was, seated behind Lucilla once again.

Despite the excitement of the ship battles, the clanging of metal, her eyes kept falling on the red-haired head before her.

Neither emperor acknowledged their arrival, too absorbed in the spectacle, and while Geta later gave her husband a nod of recognition, Caracalla didn't even turn around. Anger simmered in her chest. For him, last night was nothing, but for her...For her, it had haunted her all night and morning. All her thoughts were trapped in those wretched, humiliating moments.

Why did he seem to have forgotten while she, cursedly, remembered every touch? Remembered his hands were soft and hot, his scent sweet, almost intoxicating... And, of course, she remembered the bitter humiliation from his words, from how he touched her, and that Emperor Geta had watched it all.

Cassandra pressed hard on her palm where the wound was healing, trying to push away the memories. She wouldn't let him occupy her mind as well.

Yet, she couldn't relax, pandemonium broke out in the box when the ships came too close and an arrow hit the column between the emperors' chairs. The last thing she heard before Tiberius pulled her out was Emperor Geta's piercing scream.

The palace was buzzing with unbearable noise, the feast meant for evening had transitioned into the day, though the servants were not fully prepared.

Cassandra stood by a column, wine cup in hand. Her husband had left her again, off with General Acacius. The emperors were nowhere to be seen, nor were most of the Senate.

"How many do you think will be executed today?" she heard a quiet female whisper.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the emperor ordered all the gladiators on the field to be gutted," another voice answered, "you know how he is, insatiable!" A burst of giggling followed, and Cassandra stopped listening, embarrassed by the direction of their conversation.

She understood that for many, winning the emperors’ favor was a dream. But for her? She was a married woman who had spent her youth cultivating a sense of duty, loyalty, and responsibility. Why, then, had the gods abandoned her? Faithful and devoted as she was, they had thrown her to their earthly incarnations to be torn apart.

"More wine, domina?" a slave girl dutifully refilled her goblet.

The girl was young, dark-skinned, and beautiful, with large, intelligent eyes. Cassandra noticed the gilded collar around her slender neck and suddenly felt an invisible, soft, and hot hand squeezing her own throat. In a rush, she took a large gulp, wincing at the bitter taste, then handed the cup back.

"No more, thank you," she said, licking her lips nervously, knowing she wouldn't find peace in this cacophony.

"Are you not well, domina?" the girl asked, worry in her voice.

"I just...I need some time alone," she muttered quickly, stepping away from the column, only to stagger and clutch her head. What was happening to her?

"Do you want me to take you somewhere quiet, domina? You can rest and come back later," the girl didn't wait for an answer, guiding her by the elbow out of the room. Such audacity from a slave was unheard of, but Cassandra was too rattled and her head was spinning.

"Where are we going?"

They navigated past the throne room into a small, almost secretive chamber. The ceiling wasn't as high, the columns much less grand, the lighting dim and gloomy, and in the center stood a white altar, adorned with gold. In her parents' home, next to her room, there was a similar one, much more modest, of course, but dear to her heart, where she had prayed to her late mother.

"Wait outside," the words were both a sentence for her and an order for the slave.

She wanted to scream. Of course, he was here. No one was to be trusted, even the slave's kindness was a trap—cruel and painful. Was she truly nothing more than a prisoner here, a powerless plaything to entertain the young emperor?

Every time she saw him, he seemed like a different person. He was dressed in black and gold, with a golden laurel crown and an earring. Gold, gold, gold! She despised its gleam, for in it, she saw him.

Huddled against the wall, she stood frozen, afraid to move. The emperor did seem different this time—melancholic and contemplative. His pale eyes were unusually clear and sober as they met hers.

"What did you tell your husband?" His voice was different too: calm, measured. That made it all the more terrifying. Cassandra couldn’t read his mood from his face.

"Nothing, Caesar," she whispered, afraid to speak louder, as if his calm depended on it.

Caracalla turned to the altar, studying it as if seeing it for the first time. She held her breath, watching the golden laurel shimmer in the torchlight.

"Come closer."

His tone was pensive, his light brows furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. The moment she stepped closer, the emperor’s gaze shifted to her. It slid from her neck, lower, along the colorful tunic she wore.

"My mother used to wear this," he said. To her surprise, his right hand was bare of rings as he brushed the fabric over her chest lightly, almost tenderly. His eyes stayed locked on hers.

Though still afraid, it felt different from yesterday. Worse.

Why had he forced her to come here? Why had he dressed her in the clothes of his dead mother? Cassandra cast a desperate glance at the door, but he noticed immediately. The corner of his mouth twitched.

"She often came here," he continued, "prayed to the gods," his words were vague, her thoughts growing heavier, "do you pray often?"

"Yes, Emperor," she replied, though her mind was growing heavier, duller, as though lulled into a haze that numbed her fear.

"When was the last time?"

The conversation was bizarre, so unlike what had happened the night before. Feeling almost drunk, she answered without thinking, and that's when everything started to spiral.

"Today, when that arrow almost hit you," she said, breathing heavily, it was hot, like under the midday sun, "I prayed for the next one to hit."

Her tormented mind knew he would kill her now. That Caracalla would carry out his threats, destroy her and her family. But instead, he laughed.

Grinning, he patted her shoulder as if she’d told an excellent joke. Then the sharp pain of his hand striking her cheek brought her back to reality. He had slapped her! Tears welled in her eyes, her lips trembling, but she didn’t have time to cry. The emperor grabbed her face, squeezing her jaw painfully.

"You did drink it, didn't you? That wine they brought you?" Caracalla whispered, his voice low as he leaned closer, still holding her face. "Oh, you did! I can see it. Your dilated pupils, that empty stare, struggling to think straight, hard to control your tongue? I get it," in a mock tender gesture, he caressed the cheek he'd just slapped, "for those words, your pretty head should be on a spike outside the palace, shouldn't it? But you know the rules, if you apologize properly, I forgive."

With his thumb, he drew circles on her reddened cheek, moved to her lips, tracing their outline, forcing her to open her mouth by pressing down.

"You understand now, don’t you? The aphrodisiac in the wine you drank," he pushed his finger inside, making her lips encircle it, "I wanted to play differently, but..." his face twisted with anger, "everything went terribly wrong."

Her already rapid heartbeat quickened further, she whimpered helplessly, wanting to cry. He had made her take the drug and was now exploiting her helplessness, shamelessly tormenting her mouth.

"You should say thank you, shouldn’t you? Or did you enjoy last night more? Shall I call my brother?" he chuckled, once again reverting to his usual self.

Caracalla released her face but immediately pinned her against the altar, tilting his head up and gazing at her from beneath his lowered lashes, as if admiring her, smiling.

The torchlight reflected in his eyes, his tongue flicked between his red lips in anticipation. His hand caressed her shoulder, then he removed the pin holding the fabric.

"Did the old senator fail to notice that his dear little wife isn't really his anymore?" he sneered, his fingers trailing down to the mark he'd bitten into her skin the night before, pressing down, aiming to cause as much discomfort as possible. Caracalla's breath grew heavier, his eyes followed every flicker of emotion on her face, every slight movement she made.

"I told him it was his fault... that he drank too much..." The confession fell from her lips without thought, her mind too clouded to hold it back.

"Ah! How unfortunate, and once again, the Senate takes credit for the emperor's work! But you'll comfort me, won't you?" His lips were so close, she felt his hot, uneven breath, saw his pupils, as black as hers, the smeared shadows making his eyes feverishly gleam with madness. Her gaze only darted down to his lips for a moment... and he pressed against her, pulling her into a kiss.

His hands seize her waist, gripping and tormenting, not just her body but her very soul. If she could cry, she would, but there's no energy left, only his greedy, hot mouth. To her, a kiss was something far more intimate, far more sacred than carnal union, promising tenderness and love...And even that he steals from her, kissing her shamelessly, wetly, pressing so hard she feels his hardness against her thigh.

"Let's continue our lovely conversation," he pulls back, his mouth trailing down to her neck, kissing and biting, "tell me, did Tiberius ever get you this wet?" His hand slides between her legs, rubbing through the fabric. "Even once?"

"No," she whimpers, trying to close her legs.

"Keep acting innocent, and I'll call the Praetorians to keep your legs spread wide, is that what you want?" his rough whisper burns her ear, his earring brushing her lips.

Cassandra shook her head, public humiliation was something she couldn't handle.

"Good. Obedient and well-behaved, just as a respectable matron should be," he purrs, his hand lazily caressing, more relishing her embarrassment than her body, "if you want, you can call me your husband!"

His sharp laugh slices through the narrow room.

"Undress," he commanded, his laughter gone, "I'm not going to fuck you in my mother's clothes, am I?"

She thought after all the pain, the threats, the violence, he couldn't hurt her more, but each time, it still cuts deep. With trembling hands, she hurriedly sheds her tunic, then her undergarments, laying them out as treasures, while he watches. His gaze is fixed, nostrils flaring, Cassandra sees him stroking himself under his tunic. Her cheeks burn, her clouded mind finally grasps it - he's going to take her right here, in this holy place, before ancestors and gods. Her soul will be damned, even in death!

"Touch yourself, feel how wet you are," his voice is husky, breathless, "you should be grateful to me for that, shouldn't you? That's what I've been talking about."

Head bowed, she slides her fingers between her legs, horror dawning as she realizes he's right. But why? The drug? The notion that he aroused her with his aggressive kisses, his sharp bites, his lewd whispers, she dismisses in disgust. She didn't want him, she hated him!

Seeing her shock, Caracalla broke into a smile, fully aware of her thoughts. Abandoning his arousal, the emperor circled her nipple with his thumb, watching it harden under his touch.

"It's not surprising your husband doesn't stir your passions, look at yourself," his hand traces down her body, over her breasts, stomach, to her mound, pausing again between her legs, "you're more his daughter than his wife!"

His fingers gather her moisture, rubbing, making her despise her body's response.

"So, will you take your emperor?" he asks, not for permission but to keep the game going.

She can only nod, there's no other choice.

"Say it out loud," Caracalla whispers raggedly, pushing his fingers deep inside her. Now she understands why he took off his rings.

"Yes, Caesar, I'll take whatever you give me," with those words, the last vestiges of her pride are smashed, her genuine compassion and naivety destroyed.

He takes her with a sudden, harsh thrust, only to slow down to a lazy, almost indulgent rhythm. The air is stifling, hot; sweat drips down her thighs. The only sounds are the crackle of the torch, his ragged breathing, and the vulgar, wet slaps of skin meeting skin.

As if to disgrace her further, he grips the back of her neck, forcing her to look into his eyes as he picks up the pace again. Here he is—the protector and father of his people—bestowing his gifts. He's still clothed, no need to undress; the chain around his neck jingles with each movement, his crown slipping forward.

"Doesn’t this feel good, sweetling? Don’t you feel good?"

"Cassandra," she whispers, "my name is Cassandra."

He stops, looking at her with surprise, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Is it really that important for me to know your name, Cassandra?" he teases, playfully biting her earlobe. "Has the little wife fallen in love?"

How could he think that? Anger surges within her. Her attempt to claim some dignity crumbles! But her thoughts vanish as he thrusts into her sharply, fully, making her gasp and dig her nails into his shoulders. It’s the first time she’s touched him willingly. Her simple gesture spurred him on even more, forcing a quiet whimper from her as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"Next time your senator fucks you, think of me, little bird, understand?" his whisper turns into a moan. She's mesmerized by his parted red lips, his light lashes fluttering, his chest heaving. A few rough thrusts later, his grip on her waist loosens, and his seed floods within her.

He lets her go, adjusting his clothes, his breathing still heavy, but his gaze has changed. Having gotten what he wanted, Caracalla loses interest.

"If you're lucky, my seed will take root, and you'll give your husband an heir!" he chuckles, playfully flicking her nose as if she were a pet. "The wench will help you dress, don't forget, there’s a feast to attend!"

Caracalla leaves her, trembling, bare, and shattered. Tears finally come, and without strength, she slides down the wall, hugging herself. The worst is the sticky feeling between her thighs he left behind. If she were to conceive...

"Domina, you shouldn't sit like this, please stand, I'll help you," the slave girl who brought her here shows no emotion, no trace of sympathy in her eyes.

"Leave me!"

"Staying here is not an option, one must respect the dead," the girl nods at the inscription on the altar.

"Lucius Septimius Severus"

He had defiled her beside his father's ashes! Now, she lets her sobs escape freely.

⋆ ⋆ ☼ ⋆ ⋆

Hey! Thank you so much for the sweet feedback on the last chapter, I didn’t expect so many people to like my work, I’m really grateful! 💋 I promise the next chapter will be up faster (but it also depends on how this one does, your feedback means a lot to me and really inspires me).

[jjslvt]

AYO TECHNOLOGY ── .✦ mdni, 18+ .ᐟ.ᐟ

❝she wants it. so? i gotta give it to her.❞ 𓏲𝄢 (slight song inspo)

imagine sexting fwb!jj to the point of you two being absolutely frustrated and losing your goddamn minds. both of you had plans today but when you sent him that first risky photo, it all went downhill from there.

you two ignored texts from anyone else and went at it, from one nude photo to another until he started texting teasing words and you replied with even more filth.

his cock already leaking in precum when he started reading those messages and it didn’t take long for him to snake his hand down his boxers, recalling the feeling of your tight cunt around him.

> fuckin’ hell, mama…

[ 11:45 AM ]

> already touching yourself, jj? imagining my pretty little pussy like a cocksleeve?

[ 11:46 AM ]

he groaned at that, gripping tighter and giving himself a few pumps before replying.

> you know i am and idk what’s got into you baby but i ain’t complaining, holy…

[ 11:48 AM ]

> i was listenin’ to this song & thought of you… fucking me in every position, jayyy. been touching myself already… so wet…

[ 11:50 AM ]

and boy, did he love when his friend was this dirty for him. in fact, he hadn’t even hooked up with others since you two started this thing.

so, the sexting went on until it eventually reached calling each other after coming the first time because it wasn’t enough for you, nor him.

you both came again after hearing each other pant and groan into the phone, talking vulgar. you even went as far as to put the speaker near your pussy so he could hear every lewd and slick squelch which made him explode.

“hnghhh, f-fuuuuck… you…” he let out a guttural groan then tried to calm himself a bit. he just couldn’t get the sounds out of his ears, it’s like they replayed.

“babe, i don’t think technology is gonna be enough for papa j…” he sounded so wrecked and his cock was still painfully throbbing even after coming twice, he was still full stamina. every vein was protruding and felt hot. especially after hearing that.

you had some power over him, making him feel so desperate for you.

“yeah? need me, jay?” you barely panted out, equally as wrecked.

“god yes. i need you right in front of me.” he replied and you smirked to yourself because he quoted a lyric from that song. to think, one song turned your imagination wild and had you this horny for him.

“yeah? then papa j should come to mama right now… should come fuck my brains out.”

he instantly took that invitation, rising up from his bed—not giving a shit if he was ditching any plans with the bros. he needed you now.

“oh, you better be ready cos i’m gonna fuck you til you can’t walk… until you forget your own damn name, sweetheart- riling me up so much.”

that made you almost whimper into the phone, your cunt already aching to feel him inside of you and your stomach feeling butterflies.

“hurry up, jj… get over here and fuck me dumb.”

in record time, he arrived and had you riding him first on your bed as he stuffed his cock into you, thrusting upwards roughly with every bounce you gave. his hands gripping your hips so tightly, it might have bruised even but it all felt pleasurable.

you grabbed onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and he nipped your earlobe in return.

you kept rolling and grinding your hips when you rode him. both of you feeling extra sensitive from everything so he let out grunts into your ear, holding you close as you let out moans & whines every time he hit those spots.

it didn’t even end there because he really kept his promise and fucked you dumb, giving you every drop of his cum that he could muster until he was spent.

you fucking loved it.

both of you lying on your backs with the rapid risings and fallings of your chest.

“you… haa, really… did that…” you panted.

“hah. yeah, y’know i always deliver for you… were hornier than me i think, darlin.”

you huffed because he wasn’t wrong, though he got super horny too. you did start it so you flushed at that and he turned his head, seeing and smirking. he raised a hand to stroke your cheek.

“i enjoyed it… you can be needy for me. you can want me, this is mutual. promise to satisfy you every time.”

you felt something in your chest stir at that. he would get surprisingly soft after all the raunchy stuff and all you could do was nuzzle into his neck.

and he was also feeling the same. he wrapped an arm around you and wondered how much longer you two would keep up the whole “fwb” situation.

note: first smut here. hope it was worth something aha

[siriussimon]

simon riley who’s desperate for love. who yearns to be wanted or needed. being in the military for so long, it’s a challenge going back to civilian life. that wanting only grows when he moves in next to a pretty little thing.

he makes a habit of smoking his cigarette out front at exactly the time you stubble on home from your shifts at work everyday. any chance to see that pretty face was his reason to even go on living.

you on the other hand find him a bit creepy. at first. it took some time to warm up to. who wouldn’t feel unease when you see a man bear-like and over six feet with a skill baklava on? you’ve never seen his face but deep down you’ve been dying to figure this guy out. you’d always say hello to him on your way home, the only time you’d see a part of his face, mask pulled up over his nose that looked to be a bit crooked, lips scarred, and you came to the conclusion that maybe he was a famous boxer? you had many ideas on what he did in his life and most came down to some sort of violence.

he seems rough but maybe parts of him were tender and sweet and and and—

“ ‘ello? you hear me?” a gruff voice shook you from your day dream. there goes your fuzzy brain again, forgetting where you are, where are you?

a hand comes to rest on your shoulder, and you realize your arms are burning because you’re carrying your groceries and the elevator door up to your flat at opened waiting for the two of you to get off.

“ ‘ere lemme get that.” your neighbor, simon had said grabbing the two bags and carrying them with ease as he waited for you to lead him to your home. you only muttered a small ‘thank you’ face filling up with heat from embarrassment, daydreaming about your neighbor when he’s right next to you!

as you were opening your door he waited behind you. you were about to open your mouth to tell him he could just leave them by the door but he pushed past you, and headed straight to the kitchen.

“si- simon, you really don’t have to!” you stuttered out as you followed him to the kitchen, watching him set the bags down and unpack them. you felt so nervous having him in your house, this was the first time he’s ever been in here, you’d only had dreamed of him being in here—

“makes me feel useful.” he only murmured, and he felt like you could see the grin underneath his mask. you tried helping him but he only grumbled for you to sit down. so you just watched him put your things away, surprised to see that he knew exactly where everything was meant to go. and when all was done, you followed him out the door, thanking him for all his help.

your eyes eyeing the broadness of his back as you followed behind him, noticing his jumper had the name riley on the back. he stood on your welcome matt before turning around, his mask ridden up to show his scarred lips.

“i’ll be back for dinner, yeah?” his hand coming up to cup your cheek, placing the softest kiss on your lips, a small squeak leaving your mouth in surprise. you only nodded when he pulled away and watched him walk back into his place.

yup, you’re definitely crushing hard on your neighbor.

[tribalmajesty05]

Title: The Kiss Hunt

Roman Reigns x Reader

****

It was an unspoken rule by now—before every match, Roman needed his kiss.

No one knew exactly when it started, but somewhere along the way, it became part of his routine. Just like taping his wrists or putting on his vest, he wouldn’t step through that curtain without it. If you were nearby, it was easy—he’d find you, pull you in by the waist, steal a kiss, and head off to dominate in the ring.

But sometimes, you weren’t so easy to find.

Which meant he had to go on the hunt.

Tonight was one of those nights.

“Where is she?” Roman grumbled, already growing impatient as he stormed through the backstage halls.

Jimmy and Jey, sitting on a crate nearby, exchanged looks before Jey smirked. “Damn, Uce. You that desperate for your good luck kiss?”

Roman shot him a look. “You got a problem with it?”

Jimmy raised his hands in defense. “Nope, just funny watching the big uce go on a scavenger hunt for his woman.”

“Shut up,” Roman muttered, moving past them.

Jey laughed. “Whipped.”

Roman ignored them.

He checked catering.

Nothing.

The women’s locker room?

Naomi leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, amused as hell. “She left a few minutes ago. You really out here chasing her down, huh?”

“Where’d she go?” he asked, exasperated.

“Somewhere near the production area, I think.”

Roman groaned. He was already supposed to be at Gorilla in five minutes, but he was not stepping out there without that damn kiss.

Meanwhile, you were completely oblivious to the search party forming for you. You had stopped by the production area to chat with Bayley and Rhea when suddenly—

“There you are.”

You barely had time to turn before Roman was right in front of you, hands gripping your waist as he pulled you in.

You blinked. “Uh… hey?”

“I got a match,” he muttered, like that explained everything.

And for him, it did.

A knowing smile spread across your lips. “And what do you need before your match?”

He arched a brow. “You know.”

Bayley, standing off to the side, smirked. “God, you two are disgustingly cute.”

Rhea snorted. “Nah, this is next-level. My man’s been hunting you down like a bloodhound.”

Roman ignored them completely, his focus solely on you. “C’mon, baby. Don’t make me beg.”

Your heart flipped at the way his voice dropped, but you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “Beg? Now that I’d like to see.”

He huffed. “I swear to God—”

Before he could say another word, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. He instantly melted into it, his grip tightening on your waist like he didn’t want to let go.

The moment should have been sweet, romantic even—if it weren’t for the round of cheers that suddenly erupted around you.

“WOOOO! GET IT, TRIBAL CHIEF!”

You pulled back to see The Usos, Solo, Seth, and even Dean standing there, all of them grinning like they just walked in on a damn rom-com.

Seth cackled. “Man, he really couldn’t go out there without it, huh?”

Dean smirked. “You got this man acting like an addict.”

Jey nudged Jimmy. “I told you, Uce. Whipped.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, shut up, all of you.”

Roman, however, was completely unbothered. He smirked down at you, tilting his head slightly. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

You sighed dramatically. “I tolerate it.”

He chuckled, then leaned in to whisper, “That’s not what you were saying last night.”

Your face heated instantly.

The guys lost it.

“OH, HELL NO—”

“TOO MUCH INFO, MAN—”

“DAMN, UCE—”

Bayley covered her ears. “I did not need to hear that!”

Rhea just nodded in approval. “Respect.”

Meanwhile, Roman smirked in victory, pressing one last kiss to your cheek before finally backing away. “Alright, I’m good now.”

Jey threw his hands up. “Oh, now you good?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Man, if y’all ever break up, we’re done for.”

You crossed your arms. “Not happening.”

Roman smirked. “Damn right.”

And with that, he walked off toward Gorilla, leaving everyone behind to recover from the overwhelming amount of PDA.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Dean shook his head with a grin. “Man, y’all are something else.”

You just shrugged, smiling to yourself. Because honestly?

You wouldn’t change a thing.

[sensationallysangwoo]

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚍: 𝚂𝚞𝚋!𝙲𝚑𝚘 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚆𝚘𝚘 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖! 𝙳𝚘𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃🩶

🩶*𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘’𝚜 𝙿𝙾𝚅*

🩶𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜���𝚊𝚛𝚝-𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚜𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝.

🩶𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂: 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝙳𝙾 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃!𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚂𝚞𝚋!𝙲𝚑𝚘 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘, 𝙵𝚎𝚖𝙳𝚘𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝!𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘, 𝚂𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝙻𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚐𝚎, 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎-𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚝, 𝙿𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚢𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔!𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘, 𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚙 (𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝚂 𝙰 𝙻𝙴𝙶𝙰𝙻 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙳𝚄𝙻𝚃!)

🩶𝚃𝚊𝚐 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝: @trashk1tty , @torasgfreal , @dilfismz , @pulparindos , @reddead-salem , @daeholuvs , @radarbiterlover , @partyb0yyyy , @nicki-lovesolderfictionalmen , @sawlover353 , @m4nbl00d 𝚂𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 #𝙲𝚑𝚘 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚠𝚘𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢!

🩶𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚘 @nicki-lovesolderfictionalmen 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝! 𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢! 🩶

🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶

🩶Sang-woo’s POV🩶

A sigh escapes my lips as my chest heaves. The tight, sharp ache in my temples throbs as I’m sitting on the couch. My girlfriend is mad at me. We don’t fight very often at all but today, for some reason, every little thing I say or do gets under her skin.

I know she has been stressed out lately due to some family drama. Her mother has been causing problems, specifically. I told her to just tell her to back off. Tell her don’t even bother talking to us if she’s going to be nosey and judgy 24/7. I’m beyond tired of her letting her mother walk all over her and pick on her. It’s getting to a point where it’s affecting our relationship, almost. She did not appreciate my input.

“You act like you know everything Sang-Woo. Not everyone’s as cold as you, you know? It’s my own Mom, okay? I can’t just tell her to back off and never talk to me again.”

“So you’re going to let her keep using you as a doormat? You’re okay with her coming in here and nitpicking and judging you, and me, too? You complain about the way she acts but you don’t want to do anything about it, tell me, why is that? It’s practically your own fault that you keep letting her critique you.”

I felt my face burn as I said that. It’s the truth, though. And people need to be able to handle the truth, plain and simple. Even if it is your own family.

“Why are you such a smartass? Why can’t you just support me and understand me, huh? I can’t just cut her off. I do love her you know..” She huffed.

“Well, it’s true. You gotta face it whether you like it or not. You never stand up for yourself and you just let her pick on you every single day. But whatever. Be miserable.”

Her lack of boundaries frustrates me to no end. She’s so soft-hearted, which is why I love her so much. But she can be too soft-hearted for her own good.

She storms away to the bedroom. I remain on the couch. If she wants to be stubborn, then fine. I said what I said.

I go to the kitchen and start fixing some ramyeon, since she’s so mad at me she’s not going to cook. She comes around the corner silently and starts making herself a cup of tea. “So you’re not going to talk to me huh.” I say, breaking the heavy silence. She glares at me.

“You just don’t wanna know when to keep your mouth shut Sang-Woo.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“What if you don’t? You wanna fucking see what happens if you don’t?”

Her threat excites me. I feel the blood rush to my dick instantly. That familiar throb followed by the feeling of desperation for relief. “What happens if I don’t? What are you gonna do little girl, huh?” I tease back. I really, REALLY want to see what she will do.

“On your knees.” She commands.

Here we go. I’m so fucking horny my head is cloudy. Seeing her pissed off just really, really does something to me.

I drop to my knees obediently. As I’m looking up at her, she takes my cheek in her hand. “You stupid fucking whore. Always running your mouth. I’m gonna shut you up, alright.”

I swallow thickly. No one, absolutely no one on this Earth, could ever know I’m on my knees for a girl over half my age. I have a reputation. But whenever she’s barking commands at me like a dog I can’t help but feel weak in the knees.

She pulls her sweatpants down and grabs a fistful of my hair. “Let me put that mouth to work, you stupid slut. Shut up for once.”

I am painfully hard. It literally fucking hurts. Just the feeling of my pants brushing against my dick is agonizing. I pull my glasses off and instantly bury my face in her perfect pussy. I lap and suck at her clit as she harshly pulls my hair.

“Ughhhh Sang-woo….g-good boy…” she gasps. The praise just makes me even harder somehow. My tongue dances along her folds. She tastes so sweet, so delicate.

“Gonna cum all over that pretty face of yours Sang-woo-ah.” She moans crudely.

I groan at this, licking and sucking on her clit harder and harder until her thighs shake.

I’m licking up every last drop of her juices as she cums fiercely. Making her lose control with my tongue turns me on more than anything.

“Come on. We’re going to the bedroom.”

She pushes me down on the bed roughly. She yanks my pants down and I groan at the cool air hitting my dick. She digs her fingers into my thighs, holding them down roughly as she kisses and bites along my hips, leaving hickies. I’m absolutely dying to feel her hot, wet mouth on my dick.

“P-please..Please…” I choke out. A steady, clear dribble of pre-cum leaks out of my tip. “Please suck it, please.” I beg. If my friends or my colleagues knew I was this pathetic in the bedroom, absolutely no one would respect me. But I just fucking love it.

“Hmmm…should I? Should I suck it, baby? Is that what you want?” She coos as she rubs my tip against her cheek. The friction makes me choke out a sob. “Please…I want you to—AHH.” I can’t even finish my thought as she shoves my cock in her mouth, almost deepthroating it. The pressure and heat feels insane. “I’m gonna fucking cum in your mouth.” I warn her.

She pulls her mouth off my dick at an instant. “What the fuck, already? You’re such a fucking slut. I haven’t even had my mouth on your dick for a whole minute and you’re already gonna bust. This is a punishment so no, you’re not fucking cumming yet.”

All I can do is moan in response. I can’t even form a coherent thought right now. I just want to cum. Suddenly, an idea pops into my head. I should challenge her. I want this to be the best “punishment” yet.

“So that’s all you’re going to do? That wasn’t even a good blowjob.” I sneer.

My smirk is wiped off of my face by a sharp slap on my cheek. It stings in the absolute best way. “Shut up or I’m leaving you with blue balls.”

“You won’t. You want this just as much as I do.”

“Baby, I have a vibrator in the drawer over there. I don’t need you, you fucking dumb whore.”

Suddenly she walks over to the drawer and I think to myself, ah fuck, maybe the backtalk was a stupid idea after all. My balls literally ache. I need to just feel her tight walls around my dick, I need to shoot my cum deep inside her and knock her up, I need to. Fuck.

She pulls out…rope? From the beside table. I have never seen that before.

“Bet you didn’t know I had this, huh. Since you chose to act like a tough guy, this is the consequence you have to face.”

She wraps the rope around my wrists, tying a tight knot. She then fastens my wrists to the bed post.

Now that I have absolutely no freedom, she’s going to tease me til I break. I know it.

She hovers her bare pussy over my dick and I swear I can feel her heat radiating off of it. I buck my hips up, trying to thrust into her but I can’t. I want it so fucking bad.

She laughs at my attempts. “You want this pussy, don’t you, baby? Huh? Let me hear you beg for it. Beg.”

I’ve never ever been this desperate for any woman EVER. “I want to feel your cunt so badly..please…please princess…I want to be deep inside you…Want you to fuck me so hard.. Wanna put a baby in you.” I’m babbling like a fucking moron. I look up at her, sweat coating my hair and my dick feeling as full as ever.

She slowly lowers her hips onto mine. She grabs my dick and inserts it into herself in a painfully slow manor. I moan like a fucking pornstar at the feeling of her warm cunt squeezing my dick. I feel so filthy and needy.

She sits all the way down and I feel the tip of my dick slam against her wall. She moans out a loud “Fuuuuuck” and wraps her pretty fingers around my neck. She starts pounding herself up and down on me and it feels so fucking good I can barely see. My vision is clouded by pleasure and I feel all of the air leaving my lungs as she chokes me out.

Slowly I feel myself slipping away. Black spots form in my peripheral vision as I start feeling faint. The only thing keeping me conscious is the raw, immense, animalistic pleasure I feel from her sopping wet cunt squeezing my cock. I can feel my vocal cords vibrating as I moan uncontrollably.

Slowly, she releases and I gasp for air. I feel almost…drunk. I’m woozy and out of it and all I can focus on is the feeling of her slamming herself down onto me mercilessly.

“You. Little. Fucking. Slut.” She grunts each word as her beautiful hips connect with my thighs. “Look at yourself. Tied up with a girl over half your age fucking your brains out. You’re old enough to be my dad you disgusting perverted old man. Who the fuck do you belong to?”

She slaps me again as I moan out her name like it’s the only word I have in my vocabulary.

“You! I belong to you, princess!” I cry out. I sound so fucking whiny. I can’t believe this little girl reduces me down to this. I’m not complaining though. I can’t get enough.

She slips her fingers into my mouth and I suck obediently. I moan around them as I look deeply into her eyes. She looks so fucking gorgeous. Her perfect body bouncing up and down on my dick, treating me as her own personal fucktoy. This is where I belong, underneath a goddess.

I feel my stomach squeeze and my thigh muscles tighten. I’m gonna cum any second now.

“Aww is someone going to cum? Go ahead, cum for me since you’ve been such a good boy.” That’s all I needed to hear. Her fingers find their way into my hair. Pulling tightly, she rides out her own orgasm. The stinging sensation on my scalp paired with her tensing up around my dick is enough for me.

I practically scream as I explode inside of her. My orgasm lasts at least a minute. I’m filling her to the brim with my cum, so much so that I can feel it pooling onto my own thighs mixed with her own juices.

I’m on autopilot. My brain is absolutely empty, for once. I feel used. Fucked out. Braindead. Pussydrunk. Both of our chests are shiny with sweat, heaving rapidly as we look at each other lovingly. She unties my wrists.

The corners of my lips upturn as I look at her, still on top of me as she tries to regain the strength to get off.

“Sang-woo…” she coos. Her hand gently strokes my cheek.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I will try to understand you better and see things from your perspective, from now on.” I say softly.

She smiles widely at me. She climbs off of me and rolls onto the bed next to me. She grabs my face, kissing me deeply. I melt into the kiss as I wrap my arms around her waist. She lays her head on my chest. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I forgive you.”

My arms tighten around her. The feeling of her weight on top of me paired with her warmth is enough to lull me to sleep.

🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶

Well guys I hope you loved it ahhhh!!! I’ve never written a male POV before but it was fun for a change! Sangwoo is so subby to me but mayhaps I’ll write him as a dom to try it out! I think I will make a master list soon as well. We shall see. Question can you do a master list on mobile? Please tell me lol! See you guys in the next fic have a good night!!✌️🩶 -G