#this is ridiculously long oh my gosh

[ova-kakyoin]

its so gurover

[justanotherfanfolks]

Behold! Almost 2 hours of Epel and Deuce because I just think their dynamic is neat!

[scarletwinterxx]

maybe maybe - jeon wonwoo imagine

hellooooo ~ i need to give myself a pat in the back for this bcs OH MY GOSH EVEN I WAS GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET WHILE WRITING THIS. the slooooow burn on this🫠 we love a nonchalant and oa combo (if u know u know)

also i was listening to maybe maybe by lola amour while writing this. give it a listen to get the maximum feels😅

for my other svt fics, check them here

my x acc - niniramyeonie 💛😊

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve liked Jeon Wonwoo for as long as you can remember. It’s not a fleeting crush or some shallow infatuation—it’s the kind of feeling that lingers, like a persistent shadow. He knows it; everyone does. But as much as your friends tease you about your obvious affection for him, Wonwoo has never acknowledged it.

Not once.

Wonwoo is the epitome of calm indifference. He’s polite, sure, but he never goes out of his way to engage with anyone outside of his tight-knit circle of friends, Vernon and Minghao. They’re always together, laughing at inside jokes and radiating an air of effortless cool that only makes him seem more unreachable.

And yet, you can’t help yourself. You’re drawn to him like a moth to a flame, even though he treats you no differently than anyone else.

Sometimes you wonder if he even notices the little things you do for him—the way you save him a seat in class when he’s running late, or how you always bring an extra drink to study group just in case he wants one. You tell yourself you’re just being nice, but Mimi, your best friend, sees right through you.

“This is ridiculous,” she tells you one afternoon, leaning back in her chair with an exasperated sigh.

The two of you are sitting outside on the campus lawn, the warm sunlight doing little to ease the frustration in her voice. “You’re bending over backward for a guy who can’t even spare you a second glance.”

“He’s not that bad,” you argue weakly, though even you know it’s a poor defense. Mimi raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Not that bad? Y/N, he’s like a brick wall with glasses. Sure, he’s good-looking, but you can’t build a relationship on eye contact alone.”

“I’m not trying to build a relationship!” you protest, though your cheeks heat at the lie. “I just… I like being around him, that’s all.”

Mimi rolls her eyes. “You like torturing yourself, is what you mean. Honestly, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you enjoy the challenge.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe there’s a part of you that holds onto this unrequited crush because it’s safer than the alternative. If you never confess, you can never be rejected. And as much as Wonwoo’s aloofness stings, it’s still better than the thought of him outright telling you he doesn’t feel the same.

But then there are moments—rare, fleeting moments—when you catch a glimpse of something softer beneath his exterior. Like the time you lent him your notes for a class he missed, and he returned them with a quiet “Thanks” and a small, almost imperceptible smile. Or the way his eyes lingered on you for just a second longer than usual when you bumped into him at the library last week.

It’s those moments that keep you hanging on, no matter how much Mimi scolds you for it.

“You’re hopeless,” she says with a shake of her head. But there’s no real malice in her words, just the weary affection of someone who’s watched you pine for too long. “I swear, one day you’re going to look back on this and laugh.”

You doubt it, but you don’t say that out loud. Instead, you change the subject, steering the conversation toward something less painful.

Later that day, you find yourself crossing paths with Wonwoo outside the campus café. He’s with Vernon and Minghao, as usual, but when he sees you, he slows his pace, letting his friends walk ahead without him.

“Hey,” he says, his voice as steady and unreadable as ever.

“Hi,” you manage, your heart doing its usual somersault at the sight of him.

For a moment, you stand there, unsure of what to say. But before the silence can stretch too long, Wonwoo speaks again.

“Thanks for the notes,” he says simply.

It’s not much, just two words, but the sincerity in his tone catches you off guard. For once, it feels like he’s really looking at you, not just through you. And in that moment, you think that maybe, just maybe, there’s hope after all.

It’s a small step, but it’s enough to keep you going.

Mimi is relentless, as she always is when it comes to your love life—or lack thereof. She’s leaning against your desk chair in your dorm room, scrolling through her phone with a dramatic sigh.

“I’m telling you, Y/N, this guy is perfect for you. He’s into photography, loves indie films, and he’s even in your lit class. Plus, he doesn’t act like he’s living in a perpetual state of indifference.” She shoves her phone in your face, showing you a photo of a guy you vaguely recognize from class. He’s cute, objectively speaking, with a kind smile and a soft, approachable vibe.

But you shake your head before Mimi can even finish her pitch. “I’m not interested.”

Mimi groans, tossing her phone onto your bed. “Why do you do this to yourself? It’s not like you’re dating Wonwoo, or that he’s even trying to date you. You’re wasting your time on a guy who can’t even bother to hold a real conversation with you.”

Her words hit harder than she probably intended, and for a moment, you feel the weight of the truth behind them. She’s right—nothing about your feelings for Wonwoo makes sense. You know it’s a losing game, but every time you even consider the idea of moving on, it feels wrong. Like you’d be betraying something you’ve held onto for so long.

“It’s not that simple,” you say finally, your voice quieter than you intended.

Mimi softens at your tone, sinking onto the edge of your bed. “Then make it simple, Y/N. I get it—you like him. But you can’t keep doing this to yourself. You deserve someone who actually sees you.”

“I don’t know if I want someone else to see me,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

It’s frustrating—you’re frustrated with yourself.

Every time you see Wonwoo, it’s like all the logic and advice you’ve been given evaporates into thin air. All you see is him: the way his glasses slide down his nose when he’s reading, or the rare laugh that lights up his face when Vernon says something ridiculous. It’s like he’s carved a permanent space in your mind, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t make him leave.

Mimi looks at you like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. “You’re not even ready to like someone else, are you?”

You shake your head, a small, self-deprecating smile playing on your lips. “I don’t think so. It’s stupid, right? Holding onto feelings for someone who probably doesn’t even think about me.”

“It’s not stupid,” she says, surprising you. “It’s just… hard to watch. You’re one of the best people I know, Y/N, and it sucks to see you stuck on someone who doesn’t appreciate that.”

You’re about to respond when your phone buzzes on the desk. It’s a notification from the group chat for your literature project, and your heart skips a beat when you see Wonwoo’s name among the participants.

“Speak of the devil,” Mimi mutters when she notices your expression. She doesn’t need to ask who the message is from.

You open the chat to find a simple message from Wonwoo: I have some extra notes from class if anyone needs them. Just let me know.

It’s not directed at you specifically, but your heart still flutters at the thought of him offering to help. Mimi catches the way your lips twitch into a faint smile and groans dramatically, flopping back onto your bed.

“You’re hopeless,” she declares, though her tone is more resigned than annoyed.

You don’t argue with her this time. Maybe you are hopeless, but you’re not ready to give up just yet. Because even though it doesn’t make sense, even though it’s frustrating and irrational and probably a little pathetic, a part of you still believes there’s something worth holding onto.

The next day, you’re determined to take a small step forward.

Wonwoo’s message about the notes keeps replaying in your mind, like a sign you can’t ignore. It’s a flimsy excuse to talk to him, sure, but it’s enough to make you gather your courage and head toward the study hall where you know he likes to hang out.

You spot him right away, sitting at his usual corner table. His laptop is open, and a notebook lies beside it, his familiar neat handwriting filling the pages. But before you can take another step, you see her.

She’s sitting across from him, her dark hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. She’s gorgeous in a natural, effortless way that makes you want to disappear on the spot. And the way Wonwoo looks at her—it’s like someone punched you in the stomach. His smile is soft, easy, like he’s known her forever. He’s speaking to her with a comfort and warmth that he’s never shown you.

You freeze in place, your confidence evaporating in an instant. All the what-ifs and maybes that have kept you going suddenly feel childish and naive. You turn on your heel and leave before either of them can notice you.

The rest of the week feels like a blur. You don’t have the energy to pretend everything is fine, and Mimi is quick to notice.

“What’s wrong with you lately?” she asks on Thursday, her eyes narrowing in concern as she sits across from you in the campus café. “You’ve been moping around like someone stole your dog.”

You shrug, poking at your untouched sandwich. “It’s nothing.”

“Liar,” she says immediately. “Come on, spill.”

When you hesitate, she leans in closer, her voice softening. “Is it Wonwoo?”

The look on your face is answer enough.

Mimi lets out a groan, rubbing her temples. “Y/N, you’ve got to stop doing this to yourself. If he’s making you feel like this—”

“It’s not his fault,” you cut in quickly. “He doesn’t even know how I feel.”

“Exactly,” she says, exasperated. “You’re tearing yourself apart over a guy who doesn’t even know what he’s doing to you.”

You don’t respond, and Mimi sighs. After a moment of silence, she leans forward with a determined look in her eyes.

“Alright, that’s it. I’m not letting you mope around all weekend. There’s a party on Saturday, and you’re coming with me.”

You open your mouth to protest, but she holds up a hand to stop you.

“No excuses. You need a distraction, and I’m going to make sure you have fun whether you like it or not.”

True to her word, Saturday evening finds you standing in front of the mirror, dressed in an outfit Mimi picked out for you. It’s a little more daring than your usual style—an off-the-shoulder black dress that hugs your figure in all the right places—but Mimi insists it’s perfect.

“You look hot,” she declares, grinning as she adjusts the necklace around your neck. “Wonwoo who?”

You laugh despite yourself, though the sound feels hollow. Mimi doesn’t miss the way your smile falters, and she grabs your hands, forcing you to meet her gaze.

“Listen, Y/N. Tonight is about you. Forget about Wonwoo, forget about everything else, and just have fun. You deserve to feel good about yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur, even though you’re not sure you believe it.

But as Mimi drags you out the door and toward the party, you can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, she’s right. Maybe it’s time to let go, even if just for one night.

The bass from the speakers reverberates through your chest the moment you step inside the party venue. It’s dimly lit, with neon lights flashing and a sea of people crowded around the dance floor and bar.

You feel out of place immediately, but Mimi, ever the extrovert, is in her element. She practically radiates confidence as she scans the room, her hand firmly gripping your wrist.

“This is going to be fun,” she says with a grin, already pulling you toward the bar.

“Mimi, wait—” you start to protest, but she’s not listening. Within moments, she’s ordering shots, her energy infectiously bold.

“Two tequila shots, please!” she calls out over the noise, turning to you with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. “Come on, Y/N. You said you’d let loose tonight!”

“I didn’t say I’d drink,” you mumble, eyeing the small glasses as they’re placed in front of you.

Mimi rolls her eyes. “One shot won’t kill you. It’s called liquid courage. You’ll thank me later.”

Before you can object again, she’s shoving one of the glasses into your hand. Everything feels like it’s happening too fast—the music, the lights, the crowd, and now this. You glance down at the clear liquid and then at Mimi, who’s already downed hers like a pro.

“Cheers to forgetting about all your worries!” she declares, clinking her empty glass against yours.

You sigh, realizing you have no way out, and tip the shot back. The alcohol burns as it goes down, and you cough slightly, grimacing at the taste. Mimi laughs and pats your back.

“There you go! See? That wasn’t so bad,” she says, already signaling for another round.

As Mimi orders more drinks, you glance around the room, trying to get your bearings.

You don’t notice the way heads turn in your direction, but Wonwoo does.

From his spot in the corner of the room, he’s watching you.

He’d seen you the moment you walked in, though he wasn’t the only one. It’s hard not to notice you tonight. You look stunning, completely different from your usual casual, understated style. The black dress you’re wearing accentuates your figure, and there’s a confidence in the way you carry yourself—even if you don’t feel it.

Vernon nudges him lightly, leaning in to murmur, “Isn’t that Y/N?”

Wonwoo doesn’t reply, his gaze fixed on you as you stand at the bar with Mimi. He’s used to seeing you in hoodies and jeans, always looking comfortable and approachable. But tonight, you’re turning heads left and right, and it’s clear you’re out of your element.

“She cleans up well,” Minghao comments casually, sipping his drink.

Wonwoo doesn’t respond, but his jaw tightens ever so slightly. He watches as Mimi drags you further into the chaos of the party, her energy pulling you along like a whirlwind. You seem hesitant, your eyes wide as you take in the unfamiliar environment, but there’s something endearing about it.

For a moment, Wonwoo feels a strange pang in his chest, though he can’t quite place it. Maybe it’s because he’s not used to seeing you like this, so far removed from the quiet kindness you usually exude. Or maybe it’s the way other people are looking at you—the guys whose eyes linger a little too long, the girls whispering behind their hands.

“Dude,” Vernon says, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You good?”

Wonwoo blinks, finally tearing his gaze away. “Yeah,” he mutters, though his voice lacks conviction.

But even as his friends return to their conversation, Wonwoo can’t help but glance back at you. There’s something about tonight that feels different, and for the first time in a long time, he wonders if he’s the one being left behind.

The alcohol was starting to buzz in your veins, making the room feel warmer and the noise more distant. Mimi was in her element, laughing and chatting with a group of students you vaguely recognized from campus. Somehow, you’d gotten swept up in their drinking games, and before you knew it, one shot had turned into two, then three.

Now, you were standing in a loose circle, your nerves on edge as you watched the current game unfold. Someone had explained it a moment ago: take the shot, then grab the lemon wedge held between another person’s lips. It was bold, far outside your comfort zone, but you didn’t want to be the odd one out.

“Your turn, Y/N!” someone called, handing you a small shot glass filled with tequila.

Your hands felt clammy as you accepted it, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t even look at the person who was supposed to hold the lemon for you—your nerves wouldn’t let you. All you could think about was how awkward this was going to be, and how much you wished you could disappear into the floor.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes briefly as you downed the shot in one go.

The burn of the alcohol hit first, followed by a rush of heat in your chest. When you opened your eyes and turned your head to face whoever had volunteered to hold the lemon, you froze.

Wonwoo didn’t expect it to happen so soon, but there you were, standing at the bar with a shot in hand, the challenge in your eyes as you glanced at the person next to you holding a lemon.

And then—before he even realized what he was doing—he found himself walking over.

You blinked, wondering if the tequila was playing tricks on you. But no—he was standing right in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face as if this was the most natural thing in the world. The room seemed to fall away, the noise and chaos fading into the background.

The lemon wedge was between his lips, his sharp gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

Your heart felt like it might burst out of your chest as he leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving yours. His touch was warm, steady, grounding you even as your mind spiraled.

Every nerve in your body was on high alert, the proximity making your head spin even more than the alcohol.

The way you looked at him when you saw him standing there, so close, made something stir in his chest. He was used to seeing you in passing, in casual greetings, but never like this.

Never with this... spark in your eyes, the nervous energy swirling between you two as if the whole room had faded into the background.

His hand found its way to your face without him thinking about it. It was like instinct, like he was meant to touch you, to make the moment real, to ground you in the present. He could feel your breath against his lips as he held the lemon between his teeth, his own heartbeat quickening as he leaned in. The closeness was intoxicating, and even though everything around you was chaotic, there was a stillness between you two—something unspoken that hummed in the air.

His lips brushed against yours, and for a split second, the world stopped moving. The taste of tequila, the sharpness of the lemon, it all blurred together, leaving just the feeling of your presence, warm and electric. It was over in an instant, but the memory lingered like an echo in his mind.

When he pulled away, he noticed the slight tremble in your breath, the flush creeping up your cheeks. His fingers lingered on your skin, just for a moment, before he let go and took a step back. He couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or something else that made him act on impulse, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

“Careful with those shots,” he said, his voice steady as he turned to leave, wanting to disappear into the crowd before he did something even more foolish.

And just like that, he was gone, disappearing back into the crowd.

You stood there, your heart racing and your mind spinning, wondering if what had just happened was real—or if it was just another tequila-induced dream.

The morning light is harsh, seeping through the blinds and hitting you like a freight train.

Your head pounds, your mouth is dry, and you feel like your body is made of lead. Every movement feels like a chore, and the only thing you want is to pull the covers over your head and pretend like the world doesn't exist.

But then you remember last night. Bits and pieces of the party flash through your foggy mind—Mimi dragging you into the chaos, the shots, the people... and then, the moment with Wonwoo.

You sit up, your stomach flipping at the thought of it.

What had happened? Was it real? Or just a tequila-fueled dream? Your heart sinks into your stomach as the hangover makes itself known in full force. You groan, leaning back against your pillow.

Mimi, ever the morning person, bursts into your room without knocking, as if she doesn’t notice the state you’re in.

“Morning!” she says brightly, a little too brightly, given your current condition. She’s holding a water bottle and some aspirin in her hand. “Here, drink this. You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, taking the bottle gratefully, but your eyes are still squinting against the harsh light. “Mimi... what happened last night? What... what did I do?”

Mimi plops down on the edge of your bed, clearly already recovered from whatever wildness the night had thrown her way. She grins, almost too smugly for your current state.

“Let me think,” she says, tapping her chin like she’s in deep contemplation. “Well, first you got a little tipsy, then you got a lot tipsy... You were a little shy at first, but after a few shots, you really started to loosen up!”

You wince, already imagining how embarrassing you must have been. “And…?”

“Then,” she continues, barely able to contain her laughter, “you and Wonwoo had a moment.”

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat. “Wait, what?”

“Oh yeah,” Mimi says, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You two were definitely the talk of the night. You guys played that game, and then...” She pauses for dramatic effect, clearly enjoying every second of your discomfort. “...Well, let’s just say the lemon wedge wasn’t the only thing shared.”

Your brain stumbles over the words as the memory floods back. You and Wonwoo, so close, his hands on your face, the taste of tequila and lemon... And then the kiss, the soft brush of his lips against yours, lingering for just a heartbeat.

You feel your cheeks heat up, even as you cringe internally. “That wasn’t a kiss, was it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, it definitely was,” Mimi says with a teasing grin, clearly delighted by the reaction she’s getting from you. “A very brief one, but yeah. It happened.”

You bury your face in your hands, groaning in embarrassment. “Oh my god, I’m going to die.”

“No, no, no.” Mimi leans in, trying to comfort you—though her laughter is a little too apparent. “It wasn’t a big deal! You didn’t embarrass yourself too badly. Besides, from what I saw, he didn’t look like he minded.”

You look up at her, eyes wide. “What do you mean? Did he say anything?”

Mimi shrugs, her grin turning a little more thoughtful. “He didn’t say much”

Your heart skips a beat. You hadn’t even considered that. Did he... stay because he was just being polite? Or was there something else there?

"Did anything else happen after that?" you ask cautiously.

Mimi shakes her head. "No, you two went your separate ways pretty quickly after that. I mean, you were a little tipsy, so I didn't want to push you too much. But trust me, you're not imagining it. Something happened, even if you're too hungover to remember all the details.”

You lean back against the pillows, the weight of her words settling in your chest. Wonwoo. That moment. Had he really felt something too? Or was it just the alcohol making you think there was more to it than there actually was?

"Mimi..." you trail off, unsure how to even phrase your next question. "What do I do now?"

Mimi's expression softens slightly, though she still has that mischievous glint in her eye. "You let it play out. Don't overthink it. If something’s meant to happen, it will. If not, then at least you got a pretty wild story to tell."

You nod slowly, still unsure about everything. The hangover isn’t making things any easier, and your head feels like it’s full of unanswered questions.

But as you drink the water and swallow the aspirin she handed you, you can’t shake the feeling that this could be the beginning of something you’ve been waiting for. Even if you don’t have all the answers yet.

The next few days felt like an emotional rollercoaster, and you were stuck somewhere near the top, trying to keep your balance.

After last night’s chaos, you couldn’t bring yourself to face Wonwoo. You avoided him like the plague, keeping your distance whenever you saw him around campus. It wasn’t because you regretted what happened, but because... well, it felt like you were the only one who cared about it, and that made everything awkward.

Wonwoo didn’t say anything, didn’t acknowledge you or the kiss. He acted like it was nothing, like it was just some silly game, just like the other shots and the other people. But the longer you avoided him, the more you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was aware of it—aware of you. And that only made it worse.

His friends had caught on, too. Vernon had laughed it off, saying it was cute how you were avoiding Wonwoo. Minghao seemed amused. They didn’t think much of it, but you couldn’t ignore the tension that built up every time you crossed paths with them.

But it wasn’t just them noticing. Wonwoo was noticing too. You could feel his eyes on you whenever you went to class or sat in the library. His usual nonchalant demeanor didn’t give anything away, but there was something in the way he lingered a little longer, just enough to make you feel seen, even when you wanted to disappear.

Then, one afternoon, when you thought you were finally in the clear, it happened.

You were walking home, head down, lost in your thoughts as the weight of the last few days pressed heavily on your shoulders. You should’ve stayed in and avoided the outside world. But, no, you were out here, walking alone, hoping the fresh air would clear your head.

And then, you heard the familiar sound of an engine approaching. You looked up just in time to see Wonwoo’s car slowing beside you. Your heart skipped, and for a moment, everything inside you screamed to turn around and run. You were already panicking, your steps quickening, but before you could escape, the car came to a stop beside you.

Wonwoo rolled down the window, his expression as unreadable as ever, but his voice—his voice was what made you freeze.

“Y/N,” he called out, and your pulse quickened. You turn slowly to face him

"Hey, Wonwoo. Uh what's up?" you casually, trying to hide the fact that your face is burning because of him and not the cold winds

"Just got out of class, are you walking home?"

"Yea, on my way home too. Anyways, I better get going. See you... around" you wave goodbye and started to walk again.

You hear the car door open and steps behind you, "Are you avoiding me?" his question makes you stop on your tracks. Turning around to see him leaning against the passenger side of his car

“Uh... I... It’s just—” you stutter, and then you realize you can’t lie about it anymore. “It’s because of... the kiss.”

His face doesn’t shift, no surprise or confusion. He just looks at you, his dark eyes locking onto yours for a moment too long. And then, as if it’s nothing at all, he shrugs.

“It wasn’t even a kiss, Y/N,” he says coolly, as though it’s no big deal. “It was just... part of the game. Nothing to worry about.”

The words hit you like a bucket of ice water. You’re disappointed, though you try not to show it. You wanted something more. You wanted him to acknowledge the tension, the fact that there was something between you two, something real.

But of course, that was just how Wonwoo was—nonchalant, distant, and always acting like everything was just nothing.

You couldn’t help the slight sinking feeling in your chest. You forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Right. Of course,” you mutter, hoping your voice doesn’t betray the disappointment you feel.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. You feel awkward, standing there on the sidewalk, his car still idling beside you. But then he speaks again, his tone softening just slightly, though still with that signature aloofness.

“Get in. I’ll drive you home.” he opens the passenger door, waiting for you.

You hesitate. You should just say no, continue walking, put some distance between you. But you’re tired, emotionally drained, and there's something about his voice—something about the way he’s offering that makes it hard to refuse. You sigh, not knowing what to say but not wanting to make things worse. You step toward the car, sliding into the passenger seat without another word.

As he pulls away, the silence in the car is thick, and you can’t stop the thoughts that swirl in your head. You want to ask him, want to know if that kiss meant anything to him, or if he really did feel nothing about it.

But that’s just how Wonwoo was, wasn’t it? Always distant, always playing it cool, never letting anyone get too close.

The drive to your place feels like an eternity, but in the back of your mind, you know this silence between you two is only going to build the tension more. You just wish he would break it.

It wasn’t easy, but you were getting better at avoiding him. The subtle things you used to do for him—saving him a seat in the library, offering him drinks or homemade cookies—had all stopped. You still couldn’t bring yourself to fully confront your feelings for him, and honestly, it felt like the only way to protect yourself was to distance yourself from him as much as possible.

You told yourself it was for the best. You told yourself that the space you were creating would help you get over him. But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much time passed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was always watching, always noticing.

And, of course, he noticed. Wonwoo wasn’t the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but he was observant, maybe more so than he let on. He noticed that you stopped going out of your way to be kind to him. He noticed the absence of the small, thoughtful gestures you used to offer. At first, he didn’t say anything, uncertain of what was going on, or whether he even had the right to ask you about it.

But eventually, he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

It was late in the afternoon when you were walking alone on campus, heading toward the library to meet up with Mimi. The cool breeze made your hair dance around your face, and the noise of the campus life seemed distant, as if you were in your own little bubble.

As you passed by the gym, you saw him. Wonwoo. He had just finished his workout, his gym bag slung over his shoulder, his T-shirt sticking to his body in that way it always did after a session. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, but you quickly turned your attention elsewhere, pretending you hadn’t seen him.

But he saw you. Of course, he did.

“Y/N,” Wonwoo called out, his voice cutting through the ambient noise, his footsteps quickening to match yours. You tried not to flinch as you heard him approaching, but your pulse was racing.

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him, hoping your expression didn’t betray the nervousness bubbling up inside you. “Wonwoo?” you said, keeping your voice steady even though it felt like your heart was about to leap out of your chest.

He stopped in front of you, looking at you for a beat too long, like he was sizing you up. The look on his face was unreadable, but you could see the confusion in his eyes, the way his brows furrowed slightly as he took you in.

"Why did you stop?" he asked, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

"Stop?" You repeated, confused by his question. What was he even talking about?

"Yeah," he continued, his voice casual, but there was something different in it now. Something that made you feel like you were under a microscope. "You stopped... saving me seats, or bringing me stuff. You used to do that all the time."

You didn’t know how to respond. A part of you wanted to lie, to say it was no big deal, that you were just too busy or distracted with school, but something in his eyes made you hesitate. The truth, the real reason you were avoiding him, was too complicated. You couldn’t say it outright.

“I just… I guess I’ve been busy,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze. “Things just… changed, I guess.”

Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, as though trying to understand, but he didn’t push. There was no challenge in his voice, no annoyance. It was just curiosity, genuine and unassuming.

"Okay," he said after a beat, his eyes still locked on you. “I just thought you were mad at me or something.”

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, but you brushed it aside. “I’m not mad, Wonwoo. I’m just... I don’t know." You shook your head, unsure of how to explain your feelings without making things even more awkward. “I guess I just needed space.”

There was a pause, and then, for the first time in a while, he looked almost... vulnerable. "Space? For what?"

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. You could hear the underlying question in his voice, even if he wasn’t asking it directly. Why had you pulled away from him? Why had you stopped the small things that used to come so naturally?

Before you could say anything else, Wonwoo let out a small sigh, and though his expression was still unreadable, there was something softer in his tone. “Alright. I just wanted to know.”

Without waiting for you to respond, he turned to leave, his steps slow but purposeful. For a moment, you just stood there, watching him walk away, the weight of his question lingering in the air between you.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment, though you weren’t sure what exactly you were disappointed in. Was it because he hadn’t pushed you to explain? Or was it because, deep down, you were still waiting for him to say something, anything, to make you feel like your feelings weren’t so one-sided after all?

But that was just how Wonwoo was, wasn’t it? Detached, distant, and never quite giving you the answers you needed.

And yet, even as you watched him disappear into the distance, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder—maybe he did want to know.

The cool breeze of the evening felt nice against your skin as you walked through the quiet neighborhood, sipping on your banana milk. The streets were relatively empty, the soft hum of the evening a welcome relief after a busy week. You didn’t have a particular destination in mind—just wanted to clear your head and enjoy the peace for a while.

As you walked past the familiar basketball court, you spotted a figure out of the corner of your eye. At first, you didn’t think much of it, but then the silhouette registered in your mind. It was Wonwoo.

You stopped in your tracks, unsure whether to approach him or just keep walking. He didn’t seem to notice you at first, too focused on dribbling the ball and taking shots at the hoop. The setting sun cast a warm glow over the court, and for a moment, you found yourself just watching him. There was something about his movements that seemed different, something tight in the way he played—like he was working through something that was bothering him.

Maybe it was the way his jaw was clenched or the way his shoulders were hunched. He looked almost frustrated, the usual nonchalance replaced by something more intense. You stood there, quietly sipping your drink, lost in thought as you watched him.

You were so absorbed in the moment that you didn’t see the ball coming toward you. It hit you squarely on the head before you could react.

"Ouch!" you exclaimed, wincing as you staggered back a step.

Wonwoo’s head snapped toward you immediately, his eyes wide with concern. He jogged over, his long legs covering the distance quickly.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice laced with worry. He stood in front of you, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of injury.

You rubbed your head, trying to play it off as no big deal. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just wasn’t paying attention,” you muttered, but you could tell by the way Wonwoo was looking at you that he wasn’t convinced.

“Are you sure?” He reached up to gently touch the spot where the ball had hit you, his fingers lightly brushing the area. His touch was surprisingly soft, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest despite the situation.

“Really, I’m fine,” you said quickly, pulling back slightly. The last thing you needed was to be caught up in another one of these awkward moments with him.

But before you could brush it off entirely, something in you gave way. The distance you’d been trying to maintain, the walls you’d carefully built to protect yourself—suddenly, it felt so fragile. Maybe it was the way Wonwoo was looking at you so intently, or maybe it was the fact that it had been days since you last spoke. Whatever it was, the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them.

"I just thought I was being too much," you murmured, your gaze dropping to the ground. "And it’s not like you liked it."

Wonwoo froze, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed your words.

The air between you seemed to thicken, the awkwardness of the situation now mixed with something more vulnerable. You could feel your heart beating faster, the confession hanging in the air like a weight.

You regretted saying it the moment it left your lips, but it felt like the truth—no matter how painful it was. You didn’t want to keep putting yourself out there, offering him small gestures and favors if he wasn’t interested in them, or in you.

For a long moment, Wonwoo didn’t say anything. His gaze softened, and he seemed to be carefully considering his next words. It wasn’t the detached, nonchalant Wonwoo you were used to.

This time, he seemed almost... human.

"You’re not being too much," he said quietly, his voice lacking its usual coldness. He met your eyes, and for the first time in a while, you saw something different in his gaze—something that wasn’t easy to define. "And I didn’t think it was annoying or anything."

You weren’t sure if you believed him, but the sincerity in his voice made you hesitate. Was he really saying that? Did he mean it?

“I thought you wouldn’t want me to keep doing those things for you if you didn’t care.”

Wonwoo’s expression softened even more, and he let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that was far more human than the usual composed Wonwoo you knew.

“You’re not being too much, and I guess I see why you think I didn't care. I never said I didn't” he says, this time with more conviction. “I just…” He trailed off, like he was searching for the right words. “I just didn’t know what to make of it. You were doing all these things, and I didn’t know how to react.”

There it was. The reason for his distance. The reason for his coldness. He hadn’t known how to handle your kindness. He hadn’t known what to do with the way you made him feel, and so he had kept his distance, just as you had.

“I’m sorry,” he added after a beat, looking slightly embarrassed, as though the admission was a little difficult for him.

You didn’t know what to say, your mind swirling with a mix of emotions. Had you really been wrong all along? Had he cared, but just not known how to show it?

You were so taken aback by his answer that your mind couldn't keep up. The words he had said, so simple, yet so unexpected, rattled your thoughts. I never said I didn’t care. Had you misread everything? Had all your attempts to keep your distance been for nothing?

"But then the kiss..."

"That was me being stupid, I should've apologized for invading your space like that and you look really bothered by it. I was being dumb"

"Well you did say it was just a game" you mumble

"Like I said, I was being dumb and I apologize" he shoots you a quick apologetic smile

Before you could process anything more, your face heated up with embarrassment. You felt suddenly shy, the weight of the conversation pressing down on you, making it harder to breathe.

“I—” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt a nervous energy surge through you, a mix of confusion and the rush of emotions you were trying to keep hidden.

“I’m fine, really.” You managed to give him a small, flustered smile, hoping it would make him stop worrying about you.

But Wonwoo wasn’t convinced. He stepped a little closer, eyes scanning you with concern. “You don’t seem fine,” he said, his brow furrowing as he looked you over. “You sure you’re not concussed or something? You hit your head pretty hard.”

Your heart raced at the proximity, and you could feel the overwhelming urge to escape before you made a bigger fool of yourself. He was too close.

“No, really, I’m fine,” you said quickly, the words coming out in a rush as you took a step back. You were panicking, trying to make sense of everything, but all you wanted in that moment was to get away from him. To breathe. To process what had just happened.

Before you knew it, your feet were already moving, backing away from him at a faster pace. You didn’t even think about it—your body just reacted, the instinct to escape taking over.

“Y/N?” Wonwoo called after you, his voice filled with concern, but you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t deal with this right now. Not with him standing there, looking so sincere and worried, when you were still trying to understand everything that had just happened.

“I’m sorry, I really have to go!” you shouted over your shoulder, not daring to look back.

You could hear him calling your name again, but you didn’t stop. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you turned down the nearby street, running as fast as you could without looking back.

You kept running, trying to outrun the mess of emotions that swirled inside you. The awkwardness, the guilt, the confusion—it was all too much. And you couldn’t deal with it now.

As you finally slowed down, your breath coming in heavy gasps, you leaned against a nearby wall, closing your eyes as you tried to steady your heartbeat. You’d never done anything like that before—just ran away from a conversation like it was nothing. But in that moment, it felt like the only thing you could do.

What had just happened? Why did his words make you feel like everything inside you was unraveling?

You were doing well—at least, you thought you were.

For the past few days, you had managed to avoid any direct interaction with Wonwoo. You kept your distance, keeping your head down whenever he was around, avoiding his gaze, and hiding whenever you could. It was easier that way. You convinced yourself it was better this way.

But then, on this particular day, as you were gathering your things at the end of class, preparing to leave, you felt a tug on the hood of your jacket. You froze, instinctively jerking away from the sudden contact.

"Y/N," a calm voice spoke, and you looked up to find Wonwoo standing there, looking down at you with a slightly amused, yet nonchalant expression. He didn’t seem angry, just... observing.

You felt your heart skip a beat, and before you could stop yourself, your cheeks began to heat up. His gaze was steady, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as if he was asking you, Are you really doing this?

You didn’t know how to respond. Every part of you wanted to turn away and just leave before things got any worse, but your feet felt rooted to the spot.

“I... I wasn’t... trying to hide,” you stammered, but your voice came out weaker than you’d intended.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, not saying anything at first. He didn’t need to. His gaze alone spoke volumes. He was just waiting for you to admit what was going on.

You shifted uncomfortably, biting your lower lip as you awkwardly tried to avoid his gaze. “I... didn’t know how to talk to you,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been... confusing. And I thought... maybe it was better to just keep my distance.”

Wonwoo didn’t seem angry. In fact, the amused look on his face lingered, but there was something else there, something softer that you weren’t used to seeing from him. “You’ve been avoiding me for days now,” he said in that same calm tone, his voice unbothered. “But running away won’t make this go away, you know.”

You winced at his words, feeling the weight of them more than you wanted to admit. But you couldn’t deny that he was right. It wasn’t going to disappear just because you ran away from it.

“I... I don’t know what to say to you,” you confessed, feeling all your anxiety bubbling up again. “I don’t want to make things awkward. I just...”

“Just what?” Wonwoo asked, his expression unreadable now, his voice still quiet but insistent. “You think I won’t understand?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I don’t know if you will,” you murmured, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “I thought maybe... maybe it was easier to just pretend it didn’t matter.”

Wonwoo studied you for a moment, his gaze softening slightly. “You think it doesn’t matter?” he asked, his voice low, almost thoughtful. “You’re the one who’s been giving me things, doing things for me. It matters.”

You felt your heart beat faster, unsure of how to handle this newfound vulnerability in his voice. It was unlike him, and it was making everything even more complicated.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you said quietly, your hands still fidgeting with the sleeves of your jacket. “I thought... maybe I was just being annoying.”

Wonwoo let out a soft sigh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Y/N... you weren’t being annoying. I just didn’t know how to respond to you, okay?” His voice softened further, a hint of frustration in it now, but not at you—at himself, maybe. "I didn't know what you wanted from me."

You stared at him, unsure what to say. His words were hitting you in a way you hadn’t expected, and the confusion that had been gnawing at you for so long started to ebb, replaced by a different kind of uncertainty.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

He looked away for a moment, as if embarrassed by his own admission, but then his gaze returned to yours. “I didn’t know how to. It’s easier for me to just... not talk about these things." He paused, then gave you a small, almost hesitant smile. "But I’m trying, okay?”

The sincerity in his words made your chest ache, and you felt a weight lift off your shoulders, but at the same time, it was replaced by something new—something you weren’t sure you were ready for.

“So... what now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, almost afraid of the answer.

Wonwoo stepped closer, a subtle movement that somehow felt like the most intimate thing. His expression was still calm, but there was a softness in it now that made your heart race. “Now, we talk. No more running away.”

You didn’t know what that would mean for you, for him, for whatever this was between you. But right now, it felt like you might finally be able to stop avoiding the truth.

You find yourself sitting across him at a diner outside campus. The booth was cozy, the dim lighting giving the place a warm, inviting atmosphere. But despite the warmth of the surroundings, you felt cold. The walls you’d carefully built around yourself seemed to be crumbling, and the closer you got to Wonwoo, the more vulnerable you felt.

You hadn’t said much since you’d arrived, your gaze bouncing around the diner, avoiding his eyes whenever they found yours.

Wonwoo, however, was watching you with quiet amusement, his gaze flickering between you and the menu in his hands. He could tell you were uncomfortable, restlessly fiddling with your hands, your eyes constantly darting away whenever he caught you looking at him.

"Hey," he finally said, his voice calm but carrying a teasing edge. "You seem a little... tense."

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond, but before you could say anything, you noticed your own body language—a slight fidget, your shoulders stiff, your legs crossed tightly. You shifted in your seat, trying to make yourself comfortable, but it wasn’t working. You couldn’t shake the feeling of his gaze on you.

“I... I just don’t like sitting across from people,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your gaze still averted. “It’s too much pressure, I guess.”

Wonwoo didn’t hesitate. Without saying a word, he slid out of the booth, shifting to the side next to you. The movement was casual, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and in that moment, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. He wasn’t judging you for your discomfort. Instead, he was meeting you halfway, making you feel... seen.

He settled beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned back against the booth, a relaxed smile spreading across his face. He was so close now, and you felt a sudden rush of warmth flood your chest. Your heart skipped a beat, but this time, it wasn’t from nerves. It was from the unexpected comfort of his presence.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low and surprisingly gentle, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of unease.

You nodded, but this time, you didn’t shy away from meeting his gaze. The proximity made everything feel a little more real, a little more grounded. And, for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel the need to run away.

“Yeah,” you murmured, still a little flustered, but this time, the smile on your lips was more genuine, more relaxed. “This feels better.”

Wonwoo smirked, clearly pleased with your response, but there was a softness in his eyes that made your chest tighten. “Good,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable around me.”

“So…” You hesitated for a moment, still unsure of how to navigate this new dynamic between you. “What now?”

Wonwoo’s gaze softened, and he shrugged casually, though his eyes held a certain sincerity. “Now, we eat, and we talk. You don’t have to worry about running away anymore.” He paused, then added with a small smile, “And no more avoiding me, okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. This wasn’t going to be easy, but maybe, just maybe, you were ready to start figuring things out—with him, and with yourself.

You nodded slowly, the silence between you wasn’t exactly awkward, but it wasn’t easy, either. It felt like there were a thousand unspoken words hanging in the air, and neither of you knew how to address them.

Then, Wonwoo spoke, his voice calm and steady. “What’s your go-to drink order?”

You blinked, startled by the question. Out of all the things he could’ve asked, that wasn’t what you expected. “Uh…” You hesitated, glancing at him briefly before looking back down at your hands. “Probably... iced vanilla latte. Or banana milk,” you added with a nervous laugh, gesturing to the nearly empty carton in front of you, you pulled it out of your bag a few minutes ago.

Wonwoo nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I figured you liked banana milk. I see you drinking it a lot.”

Your cheeks heated up at his observation, and you ducked your head, suddenly very aware of how closely he paid attention to you. “Yeah, it’s kind of a comfort drink,” you admitted softly. “What about you?”

“Americano,” he replied easily. “No sugar.”

You scrunched your nose at that, and Wonwoo let out a soft chuckle at your reaction. “What?” he teased. “Not a fan of bitter drinks?”

“Not really,” you admitted, daring a quick glance at him before looking away again. “I like sweet things.”

Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving you. “What’s your favorite dessert?”

You bit your lip, trying to think. The way he was watching you so intently made your brain feel foggy, and it was hard to focus. “Probably... cheesecake,” you finally said. “Strawberry cheesecake.”

He hummed thoughtfully, as if filing that piece of information away. “Strawberry cheesecake,” he repeated, his voice soft. “Noted.”

“Why are you asking me this?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Wonwoo shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Just trying to get to know you better.”

That answer caught you off guard. You looked down at your lap, your hands twisting nervously. “But... why?”

He didn’t answer right away, and when you finally gathered the courage to look up at him, you found him watching you with a softness in his eyes that made your heart ache. “Because I want to,” he said simply, his voice quiet but certain.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you quickly looked away again, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, and you could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Wonwoo didn’t push you to say anything else. He let the silence settle again, but it didn’t feel as heavy this time. It felt... different. Like he was giving you space to process, to breathe.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe he wasn’t as far out of reach as you’d always thought.

It's suppose to be another normal day. You're in class, sitting next to MImi still feeling sleepy but then something slides infront of you.

You stared at the banana milk on your desk like it had suddenly sprouted wings. Slowly, you turned back to look at Wonwoo, who was casually flipping through his notebook like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Mimi, sitting to your right, nudged your arm, her expression a mix of confusion and barely-contained glee. “What’s going on?” she whispered, her eyes darting between you and Wonwoo like she was trying to piece together a crime scene.

“I have no idea,” you whispered back

You leaned slightly toward Wonwoo, lowering your voice as much as possible. “What are you doing?”

“Attending class,” he replied, not even looking up from his notebook. His tone was so calm, so casual, that for a moment you thought you’d imagined him moving seats altogether.

“Here?” you pressed, glancing over your shoulder again to see his friends Vernon and Minghao, who were both watching the two of you with poorly hidden smirks. Minghao even gave you a small wave, which only made you more flustered.

Wonwoo finally looked at you, his expression as neutral as ever. “Why not?”

Before you could respond, he nudged the banana milk closer to you. “You like this, right?”

You blinked down at the carton, your brain short-circuiting. “I... yeah, but—”

“Then drink it.” His tone was soft but firm, leaving no room for argument.

Beside you, Mimi’s jaw was practically on the floor. “Okay, what is going on here?” she hissed under her breath, leaning closer to you. “Did you bribe him? Threaten him? Sell your soul to some matchmaking demon?”

“I don’t know!” you whispered back, your voice frantic as you stared at the banana milk like it held all the answers to life’s mysteries.

Wonwoo, clearly aware of the hushed conversation happening beside him, leaned back in his chair and glanced at Mimi. “Is something wrong?” he asked, his calm demeanor never faltering.

Mimi froze, her eyes wide as she realized he was addressing her directly. “Uh, no? Nothing’s wrong,” she stammered, clearly trying to play it cool. “Just... curious, that’s all.”

Wonwoo nodded, satisfied with her answer, and turned his attention back to his notebook, leaving you and Mimi to exchange bewildered looks.

The rest of the class passed in a blur. You were hyper-aware of Wonwoo’s presence beside you, the subtle sound of him turning pages, the occasional shift in his seat, even the faint scent of his cologne. You couldn’t focus on the lecture to save your life, and every time you caught Mimi looking at you, she wiggled her eyebrows in a way that made you want to crawl under the desk.

When the class finally ended, you quickly packed up your things, eager to escape before your brain completely melted. But as you stood up, Wonwoo grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Walk with me,” he said, his tone more of a statement than a question.

You glanced at Mimi, who was watching the scene unfold with wide eyes and a grin that was far too smug for your liking. “Go ahead,” she said, waving you off. “I’ll meet you later.”

Before you could argue, Wonwoo gently tugged your wrist, guiding you toward the door. You followed him, your heart racing as you wondered what on earth he was up to now.

You were half jogging to keep up with Wonwoo’s long strides, his hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist as he led you through the campus. It wasn’t like he was walking that fast—it was just that his legs were ridiculously long compared to yours.

Your steps were hurried, almost clumsy, as you tried to keep up. “Wonwoo,” you huffed, glancing at his back, “can you slow down? Not all of us have tree trunks for legs, you know.”

He glanced back at you, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “We’ll be late if I slow down,” he said simply, but his pace did ease up slightly.

It was almost cute—too cute, honestly. The height difference, the way you had to trudge along behind him like a kid trying to keep up. And then there was him: calm, composed, and acting like dragging you to your next class was just a normal, everyday occurrence.

By the time you reached the door of your classroom, you were slightly out of breath. Wonwoo, of course, looked as unbothered as ever. He gently let go of your wrist and gestured for you to go in.

“Go,” he said, his tone soft but firm.

You blinked up at him, confused. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To my class,” he replied, as though it was obvious.

You frowned, gesturing vaguely in the direction you had just come from. “Your class isn’t here?”

“Nope,” he said, already turning on his heel to walk away. “It’s on the other side of campus.”

You stared at him, your jaw dropping. “The opposite side?”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder to meet your incredulous gaze. “Yeah,” he said nonchalantly.

“Then why did you—” You cut yourself off, not even sure how to finish the sentence.

Wonwoo just shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Felt like walking you,” he said simply, as though it was no big deal.

And then, without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing at the door of your classroom, completely flustered and at a loss for words.

What is he doing to me? you thought, burying your face in your hands. Whatever game Wonwoo was playing, it was definitely working.

This new routine had become so normal that you almost stopped questioning it—not that you were any less flustered every time Wonwoo waited for you after class or walked you across campus. It was just easier to let it happen, even if your heart constantly felt like it was doing somersaults. Mimi teased you endlessly about it, of course, but you’d stopped trying to defend yourself. What could you even say?

One afternoon, just as class was ending, Wonwoo approached you while you were packing up your things. You were expecting him to grab his bag and lead you out of the room like usual, but instead, he hesitated.

“I have something to do after class today,” he said, his voice soft yet direct, his hands casually shoved into his pockets. “I can’t drive you home.”

You blinked up at him, surprised. “Oh, that’s okay. I can just—”

“Wait,” he interrupted, giving you a look that made you freeze. “Are you going to walk home alone?”

You faltered, unsure how to answer. “I mean, it’s not that far...”

He frowned at that, clearly not liking your response. “I don’t like the idea of you walking home alone.”

Your heart did a little flip at his words, but you quickly brushed it off, waving your hand dismissively. “It’s really fine, Wonwoo. I’ve walked home alone before.”

“Not anymore,” he said firmly, pulling out his phone.

You raised an eyebrow as he started dialing, wondering what on earth he was doing. “What are you—”

“Hey,” he said into the phone, cutting you off. “Where are you right now? Can you drive someone home for me?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Was he really calling someone just to make sure you didn’t walk home alone?

A few moments later, he hung up and turned back to you. “Vernon and Minghao are nearby. They’ll drive you home.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, your voice rising slightly in disbelief. “Wonwoo, you don’t have to—”

“I already did,” he said simply, grabbing his bag. “They’ll meet you outside in five minutes. Just wait for them, okay?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look he gave you stopped you in your tracks. It wasn’t stern, exactly, but it was... serious. Protective. Like he genuinely wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to you.

You sighed, realizing there was no point in arguing. “Fine,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

He softened at that, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Good. I’ll text you later.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind reeling.

When you made your way outside, Vernon and Minghao were waiting by Vernon’s car, both of them looking far too amused for your liking.

“So,” Vernon said, leaning casually against the hood of the car, “you’re the one Wonwoo’s been babying lately.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Can we not talk about this?”

Minghao chuckled, opening the passenger door for you. “Don’t worry, we won’t tease you too much. Wonwoo’s been... different lately, though. It’s kind of interesting to watch.”

“Different how?” you asked, sliding into the car and buckling your seatbelt.

Vernon smirked as he started the engine. “Let’s just say you bring out a side of him we didn’t know existed.”

You couldn’t decide if that made you feel flattered or even more flustered. Either way, as they drove you home, you couldn’t stop thinking about the lengths Wonwoo had gone to just to make sure you were safe. And even though it was embarrassing, a small, shy smile found its way to your lips.

Later that night, just as you were about to settle into bed, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. You blinked at the screen, momentarily stunned when you saw the name.

Wonwoo.

Your heart immediately started racing. He had texted you before, sure, but calling? This was new. Hesitantly, you picked up, bringing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” His voice was deep and smooth, laced with a certain warmth that made you grip your phone a little tighter. “Did you get home okay?”

You felt your lips twitch into a smile despite yourself. “Yeah, Vernon and Minghao dropped me off. You really didn’t have to go that far, you know.”

“I did,” he said simply. “I told you, I don’t like you walking alone.”

There was something about the way he said it—calm, steady, certain—that made your chest feel warm. You bit your lip, trying to ignore the giddy feeling bubbling inside you.

Instead, you changed the subject. “How was your thing after class? You never said what it was.”

“Just something for a group project,” he answered. “It took longer than I expected.”

You hummed in understanding. “That sucks.”

He let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah. Anyway, how was your day?”

At that, you perked up, launching into a detailed retelling of everything that had happened since class. You told him about Mimi’s latest antics, how she nearly got into an argument with a professor because she was convinced she turned in her assignment when she actually hadn’t. You talked about how Vernon and Minghao teased you the whole car ride home, about the new café you wanted to try, and even the silly little things that made you laugh that day.

Somewhere along the way, you noticed he had gone quiet.

“Wonwoo?” you called, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Are you still there?”

There was a pause, then his voice came through the speaker—soft, almost gentle.

“Go on, I’m listening.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

There was something different about the way he said it. He wasn’t just saying it to fill the silence. He meant it. He liked listening to you.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, but you pushed forward, finishing your story despite how shy you suddenly felt.

When you finally ran out of things to say, he let out a contented hum. “You should get some rest,” he murmured. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Your heart melted at how soft his voice was. “Okay,” you said quietly.

“Goodnight,” he added, and you swore you could hear the smallest smile in his voice.

“Goodnight, Wonwoo.”

The call ended, and for a moment, you just sat there, staring at your phone. Then, all at once, the emotions hit you like a tidal wave.

You let out a loud groan, grabbed your pillow, and screamed into it.

“What are you doing to me, Jeon Wonwoo?!”

Your pillow, of course, had no answers. But one thing was clear—you were so doomed.

It's a few weeks later, you're at the cafe you frequently hang out when you have free time. The usual, you're on your yapping mode while Wonwoo listens. But then you said something you didn't mean to tell him.

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze.

You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. It was just one of those things you only ever admitted to Mimi—how you were so confused about what was going on between you and Wonwoo.

But now, you had just said it. Right in front of him.

Your heart stopped.

Slowly, hesitantly, you turned to look at him.

Wonwoo was already staring at you, that small, amused smile still lingering on his lips—but his eyes held something else. Something unreadable.

For the first time, he didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t tease you, didn’t brush it off. He just watched you, as if he was carefully thinking about what to say.

You scrambled to fix it. “I-I mean—” you let out a nervous laugh, waving your hands. “Forget I said that! It was just, um, something stupid I told Mimi—”

Wonwoo tilted his head, his gaze still locked on you. “You’re confused?” he asked, his voice calm.

You swallowed. “I mean... yeah?”

Silence.

The tension was unbearable. Your heart was practically screaming in your chest.

Finally, he leaned back, eyes flickering to the coffee in front of him. Then, after a long pause, he spoke again.

“What do you want us to be?”

Your breath hitched.

You stared at him, unsure if you heard him correctly. Your mind raced, completely unprepared for the question.

“I—” you fumbled, gripping the edge of your sleeves. “I don’t know...”

Another pause. Then, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Liar.”

Your head snapped up. “Excuse me?!”

Wonwoo met your gaze again, eyes knowing, almost too knowing. He didn’t look mad. If anything, he looked fond—like he had already figured out the answer before you even realized it yourself.

Your face burned. “I’m not lying—”

“You’ve liked me for a long time.” His voice was so casual, so matter-of-fact, that it left you speechless.

Your entire body tensed.

Oh my god.

He knew.

Of course, he knew.

Everyone knew. You knew he knew. But hearing him say it so bluntly, with no hesitation—it made your stomach flip.

You wanted to disappear.

“I—” You swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at him. “Okay, so maybe that’s true, but—”

“But?” He was still watching you, waiting.

“But I don’t know what you want.” The words came out smaller than you intended, but they were honest. “You... you’re always around now, Wonwoo. You drive me home, you wait for me after class, you listen to me ramble all the time. I just—” You bit your lip. “I don’t know what that means to you.”

Another silence.

Wonwoo didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he reached for his coffee, taking a slow sip. Then, with the same infuriatingly calm expression, he set it back down, resting his chin against his palm as he gazed at you.

And then—

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Your hands clenched under the table, heart pounding in your ears. You knew what he was implying, you felt what he was saying without words, but you still couldn’t believe it.

And Wonwoo—knowing you so well—could see that.

So, he leaned in slightly, his voice quieter this time.

“I wouldn’t do all of this if you weren’t special to me.”

Your brain short-circuited.

You felt like your heart had stopped entirely, like you had forgotten how to breathe.

Jeon Wonwoo—who had spent years acting nonchalant toward you—was now sitting here, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

You didn’t know what to say.

So, naturally, you panicked.

“I—um—I need to go to the bathroom!” you blurted out, shoving your chair back as you stood up abruptly.

Wonwoo blinked, a bit startled, before letting out a soft chuckle. “You’re running away?”

“I am not running away!”

“You’re literally running away.”

“I need to pee!” you lied, voice high-pitched as you quickly turned toward the restroom.

Behind you, you heard Wonwoo laugh—actually laugh—before calling out, “I’ll be here when you get back.”

You groaned, covering your face as you rushed away.

This was too much.

Jeon Wonwoo was too much.

When you finally gathered the courage to come back, your heart was still hammering in your chest. You had taken extra minutes in the restroom just to stare at yourself in the mirror, mentally screaming and trying to convince yourself to act normal.

Except—how could you act normal after what just happened?

You cautiously made your way back to the booth, and there he was—Wonwoo, sitting comfortably with one arm draped over the back of the seat, sipping his drink as if he hadn't just dropped that bomb on you.

And then, when he noticed you, his lips curled into that teasing smile.

“You good?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement. “Took you a while.”

Your face heated.

“I had to—um, you know—actually pee.” You sat down stiffly, eyes fixed on the table.

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t look convinced at all.

You fidgeted, not knowing what to say. Now that you knew he felt something for you, you had no idea how to act around him. You weren’t prepared for this. You had spent so long assuming your feelings were one-sided that the moment he admitted otherwise, your brain completely shut down.

And Wonwoo—of course—noticed.

He watched you with that quiet amusement, letting the silence stretch between you. Then, after a beat, he spoke again.

“Are you still confused?”

Your breath caught.

You looked up at him—finally meeting his gaze—and you regretted it immediately because he was already staring at you.

His dark eyes, calm and steady, held a kind of certainty that made your stomach flip.

“I—” You swallowed. “I don’t know.”

Wonwoo hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly. “I see.”

You thought that would be the end of it, that he would back off and give you time to process—but no.

Instead, he leaned in.

Not dramatically, not forcefully. Just enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence, enough that your breath hitched and your hands curled into fists in your lap.

Then, in a voice so quiet that it sent a shiver down your spine, he whispered,

“Then tell me…”

His eyes flickered to your lips before locking back onto yours.

“What do you want me to be?”

Your brain short-circuited.

Your body went completely still.

The weight of the question—the meaning behind it—hit you all at once, and suddenly, everything felt too real.

Wonwoo was still watching you, waiting, his face unfairly close to yours. He wasn’t teasing anymore. He wasn’t joking. He was giving you the choice—asking you to decide what this was between you.

And you…

You had no idea how to answer.

Because for the first time ever—

You realized that your silly little crush wasn’t so one-sided after all.

Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that you were sure he could hear it.

What did you want him to be?

For so long, you had thought the answer was simple—you wanted him, you always had. But now that he was actually asking you, the words caught in your throat.

You were frozen, caught between the overwhelming weight of your long-time feelings and the terrifying reality of facing them head-on.

Wonwoo didn’t move. He was still leaning close, his dark eyes fixed on yours, waiting patiently. He wasn’t rushing you, wasn’t pushing you to answer, but that only made it worse.

You wanted to say something, anything, but all that came out was a small, breathless,

“I—”

And then you panicked.

Your body moved before your brain could catch up—you quickly grabbed your drink and took the biggest gulp imaginable, as if that would somehow wash away the moment.

It didn’t.

Instead, Wonwoo let out a quiet chuckle, finally leaning back, giving you space.

“You’re cute when you panic.”

You almost choked.

“I’m not panicking,” you sputtered, setting your drink down with a little too much force.

His lips twitched, clearly not believing you. “So, what’s your answer?”

“I—” You exhaled, gripping the hem of your shirt. “This is a lot, okay? You just—you never made it seem like you liked me before, and now you’re—” You gestured vaguely at him. “—doing all this and it’s messing with my brain.”

Wonwoo tilted his head, looking at you with quiet curiosity. “I never made it seem like I liked you?”

You gave him a look.

He hummed, gaze flickering downward for a split second before meeting your eyes again. “That’s not true.”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“I just… don’t show it the way you do.” He said it so casually, so matter-of-fact, as if it was something you should’ve known all along.

You stared at him, your brain struggling to process his words.

And then, as if to prove his point, Wonwoo reached out—his fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting moment before he grabbed your wrist, gently pulling your hand closer to him.

Your breath hitched.

“Do you really think I would’ve let just anyone take care of me the way you did?” His voice was lower now, softer, as his thumb absentmindedly traced slow circles against the back of your hand. “I noticed, you know. Every time you saved me a seat, every time you gave me something without expecting anything in return.”

You swallowed thickly.

Wonwoo glanced down at your intertwined hands, as if realizing he was still holding you. But instead of letting go, he gave your fingers a small, almost hesitant squeeze.

“I didn’t ignore it because I didn’t care,” he admitted. “I just… didn’t know how to respond.”

The confession made something in your chest tighten.

Wonwoo had always been unreadable to you—his quiet, nonchalant demeanor making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. But now, sitting here with him, listening to him actually talk about his feelings, you realized that he wasn’t cold at all. He was just careful.

He let out a quiet sigh. “But when you stopped…” His grip on your hand tightened slightly. “I didn’t like that.”

You blinked. “You didn’t?”

He shook his head. “No.”

It was such a simple response, yet it made your heart race all over again.

There was a small beat of silence before he spoke again, quieter this time.

“I missed you.”

Your chest ached.

All this time, you had thought your feelings were a burden to him—that he barely noticed you, let alone missed you. But here he was, telling you otherwise, proving you wrong in the gentlest way possible.

Your fingers curled around his, gripping back.

“…I missed you too.”

Wonwoo smiled, the kind of small, rare smile that made your stomach flip.

“So,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement, “are you still confused?”

You hesitated, heat creeping up your neck. “…Maybe.”

He chuckled. “Then should I make it clearer?”

You sucked in a breath when he leaned in again, just close enough that you could see the soft curve of his lips, the warmth in his eyes.

His gaze flickered to your mouth, then back to your eyes.

“What do you want me to be?” he asked again, voice barely above a whisper.

"Do I have to answer now?"

Wonwoo just smiled at your question. That soft, knowing kind of smile that made your stomach do flips.

“Take your time,” he said simply, "You waited for me, without expecting anything. It's my turn now" he tells you.

You could barely meet his eyes, your fingers twitching against his. “I just—this is a lot, okay?”

“I know.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles in a soothing motion. “That’s why I’m letting you decide.”

That didn’t help at all.

You groaned internally, dropping your forehead onto the table in defeat. “You’re making this so much worse, Jeon Wonwoo.”

He chuckled, and you could feel his amusement. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

“You’re the one blushing like crazy.”

“Shut up.”

He laughed again, and you hated how much you loved the sound.

After a moment, you hesitantly lifted your head, still unable to look at him directly. “…So, you’re not gonna, like, be weird about this?”

“Nope.”

“You’re not gonna pressure me?”

“No.”

“You’re just gonna… wait?”

Wonwoo leaned back against the booth, his hand still comfortably wrapped around yours. “As long as you need me to, as long as you want me here”

Your breath hitched.

Oh.

You bit your lip, feeling your heart squeeze at his words.

“…Okay,” you mumbled.

“Okay?”

You nodded shyly, finally—finally—glancing up at him. “I’ll think about it.”

His lips twitched, amused. “Good.”

And then, like it was the easiest thing in the world, Wonwoo lifted your hand to his lips and pressed the lightest, softest kiss against your knuckles.

Your brain completely shut down.

“You—” You squeaked, yanking your hand back as if you had just been electrocuted.

Wonwoo just smirked.

“Take your time,” he repeated, looking way too satisfied with himself. “I’ll wait.”

And you knew—you knew—that no matter how much you tried to think about it, your heart had already decided.

[kashverse]

I love your drabbles!!

What about nanami preparing to confess to us?

i wrote this with teacher! nanami x teacher! reader in mind :)

you never in a million years thought the nanami from the class next door would like you.

sure, you had an undeniably stupid crush on him—the kind that made you stare too long when he rolled his sleeves up, or made your brain short-circuit when he adjusted his tie with those his hands. but he was nanami. effortlessly cool, the most responsible adult in the building, the man whose serious expression could make a room full of five-year-olds sit up straight. he was way out of your league. so when he pulled you aside in the middle of the kindergarten hallway—two fully grown adults wearing aprons with cartoon animals on them—and said, "i like you," your brain malfunctioned.

“oh, uh, you like—what, my new markers? yeah, they’re pretty great, got them on sale, actually. or wait—did you mean you like my lesson plan from this morning? yeah, the pigeon thing was a hit, huh? unless—oh god, you meant my classroom decor, didn’t you? listen, the rainbow border was a choice but—”

“i like you.”

“right, so when you say ‘like,’ do you mean as in friendly coworker appreciation, or like as in—like my handwriting? because i know it’s neat, but—”

“i like you.”

you opened your mouth. closed it. opened it again. nanami sighed, then—he took your hands. your hands. in his hands. like it was nothing. like it was normal.

and he was blushing. cheeks dusty pink, a ridiculous contrast to his sharp blonde hair and the completely straight-faced delivery of his confession.

meanwhile, your entire nervous system short-circuited. the world blurred for a second—just you, standing there, trying to process what was happening—until a piercing shriek shattered the moment.

“OH MY GOSH, MR. NANAMI IS HOLDING MS. Y/N LIKE A PRINCE!”

followed by more shrieks. the tiny, high-pitched chaos of your entire class losing their minds.

you turned your head in slow, mechanical horror to see dozens of little faces pressed up against the glass door, hands smushed against it, their muffled cheers breaking through the barrier. nanami’s class, having witnessed the commotion, joined in. soon, the whole hallway was filled with kindergarteners chanting ‘KISS! KISS! KISS!’ like a cult.

nanami let out the heaviest sigh of his life. “i should have picked a better place for this,” he muttered.

“you think?!” you whisper-hissed, face now hotter than the sun.

he squeezed your hands. seriously. earnestly. like he meant it. like he meant all of it.

the chanting only got louder. the kids were now banging on the glass.

“so…” you swallowed, eyes darting around. “wanna run?”

nanami nodded.

you ran.

[shidoglazer]

otoya + breeding kink + in public (library…???) fic i beggg oh my gosh (if ur comfy writing abt public smut if not then at home is fineeee too!!!!!!)

🔞 req otoya eita oneshot mdni public sex breeding kink

thanks 4 sending this in !! 🤍

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

college was a bitch, and so was otoya eita. after a long day of classes, you headed to the library to get some alone time and finish up your projects, considering your dorm mates were annoying and unbearable. as you found a remote area at the library amongst rows of bookshelves, you sat down and pulled out your phone to text your boyfriend.

[@/youruser: eitaaaaa i’m at the library, wanna join? just finishing up some work]

[@otoyababy; sure darling i’ll be there 🙉]

you hearted his message and went back to your assignments when suddenly the chair beside you got pulled aside, your head snapped to that direction and saw your boyfriend getting comfortable in the seat. you were dumbfounded, how dod he get here so fast?

“wha?- i just texted you, how did you get here so fast ??”

he was stalking you, obviously. “ninja powers.” you scoffed at that, shaking your head in mock disappointment as you went back to your books. otoya stared at you contently with those hooded eyes of his, he felt like a pervert for how naturally his eyes would trail down to the top that was curving your tits shapes perfectly, your skirt that rolled up to your thighs— it was all so beautiful.

eventually, it wasn’t just his eyes trailing everywhere. he looked around the area around you two to make sure no one was there before his hand trailed to your inner thigh, getting dangerously closed to your clothed cunt. you looked at him with a displeased expression, though the way your thighs still spread out for him said otherwise. “not at the library, eita.” you said with a stern tone, yet your facade was cracking bit by bit as he cocked an eyebrow at you.

“we both know you want to.” your strict demeanour was breaking, and he enjoyed every single part of it as he watched you shift around while his hands were trailing over your clothed slit.

- - 🥝 - - - - - - - - 🥝 - - - - - - - - 🥝 - - - - - - - - 🥝 - -

otoya had you bent down over the table, both of you were mostly still clothed, apart from your panties being pulled down slightly while your skirt was thrown up to your lower back and otoya had his jeans fly down. good thing it was already late in the evening, everyone has already scrambled back to their own dorms. his cock was so deep inside you while you were struggling to fight against your moans that would most definitely echo through the library. he let you adjust on his cock before bending his upper body down, laying his weight onto you. “you kaay?” he asked in a hushed tone as you nodded frantically, desperate for him to move.

he hummed softly, starting to move his hips slowly. every thrust you could hear a squelching noise from your wet hole and you could physically feel your body clenching around his cock on instinct. your hands were rolled up onto fists, balancing your body weight on either sides of your body while your eyes clenched shut, making muffled noises each time his ridiculously huge cock hit your cervix softly.

“mmngh, eita,, ah!-“ both of his hands immediately shot up to your mouth, covering it and pulling you back, causing you to squirm under him. he leaned down, speaking softly in your ear. “shh. we’re in a library. be quiet, or do you like that? you wanna be caught by someone while i’m stuffing your pretty pussy full with my cock? naughty fucking girl.” you let out a muffled noise of denial, though it just made you look more pathetic under him. he sighed, keeping one hand on your mouth and the other trailed to your hair to grip it as he continued fucking into you.

shit, it was hard to stay mad at him for getting a boner in a library when the pleasure from your hole stretching out for his cock and the pain from your head being pulled back was mixing so perfectly together. his pace quickened as he tried his best to not shove his whole dick into you to not make any slapping noises, but it was getting harder by the minute as he felt your gummy walls basically suck him back in whenever he pulled out.

obviously, it was impossible for you to stay quiet while his cock was hitting all your sweet spots. you let out a muffled moan against otoyas hand, back arching as your hips desperately grinded against nothing to get more friction. one of your hands trailed down to your clit, using your middle and index finger to rub circles onto it. you could genuinely feel eitas dick twitch inside you when he noticed you rubbing your clit, letting out a low hum.

“hmf. is my dick not enough to make you cum? guess i gotta go harder, huh?” you widened your eyes, shaking your head frantically. you already know where this was going. your hand quickly shot back up as you let out muffled noises, but it was practically already too late for it as now his pounding could be heard echoing through the library. tears pricked into your eyes and you weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment or overstimulation. quickly enough, you felt a knot in your abdomen as you gripped onto the pages of your notebook beneath you out of pleasure.

you cried out, the stickiness on your thighs leaking down to your panties while your pleasure builds up, leaning onto the table. otoyas pace quickens once more, shooting his cum into you as your arousal coated his cock. your head threw back as you let out strained, muffled moans. he pulled out of you, your legs trembling beneath the table as both of your cum dripped down onto your panties.

he sighed as he heard footsteps behind you two, pulling back up his flyer and helping you pull back up your panties, now completely slick filled. you fell down onto the chair as a staff member came up to you two with a flushed face. “s-sorry, i’ll need you two to leave the library,” she bowed politely before walking away. you were too fucked dumb to process anything while otoya nodded at the staff, helping you pack your stuff and slinging the back over his shoulder. “try to walk properly. cmere princess.”

he pulled his arm out for you as you got up and leaned against him, walking small steps as you felt the slick in your panties making wet noises everytime you moved. he brought you back to his dorm, a personal one just for him considering he’s the ace of the football team, and the one who brought you guyses college to nationals. he took off your clothes for you, discreetly throwing your panties into his closet as he placed you in the bathtub.

thanks 4 reading through!! sry for any mistakes or ooc parts :3

★ check out my masterlist!

[brunchable]

Meet Me On a Midsummer's Night.

Pairings: beefy!Bucky x F!Reader [ pre-established rs ] Warning: MUTUAL PINING. FLUFF. BUCKY SMUG AND A TEASING MF. PDA. Summary: On a hot night, you can’t fall asleep thinking about this and that— you finally call Bucky. You didn’t know he'd come out to meet you but he did. A/N: I've been digging my playlist and I stumbled upon my old korean hip-hop playlist. It's summer here in Aus and the song is about meeting someone they like in the middle of the night and this is the product. I'll leave the song here, and if you know this song, you're awesome.

The ceiling fan creaked overhead, pushing the thick, summer air around your room without mercy. You kicked off your sheet for what felt like the hundredth time, staring at the faint glow of your phone on the nightstand. Midnight, it whispered, daring you to do something impulsive.

Your thumb hovered over Bucky’s name in your contacts, nerves coiling in your stomach. The sensible part of you begged you to stop. But the other part—the part that lingered on his laugh too long, memorized the exact shade of his smile—urged you forward.

Your thumb hovered over his name in your contacts for an embarrassing amount of time. You bit your lip, debating, until finally—finally—you pressed Call before you could change your mind.

It only rang once before his voice poured through the speaker, low and warm like honey.

“Hey.”

His voice was warm and a little raspy, like he hadn’t quite shaken off sleep. The sound wrapped around you, and your lips curled into a smile you were too glad he couldn’t see.

“Hey,” you whispered back, trying not to sound too breathless. “What’re you doing?”

“Not much. Just… chilling.” A faint rustle came through the line, like he’d sat up. “You?”

You pressed your palm to your forehead, silently berating yourself. What were you doing? What was this? And why did your heart feel like it was trying to climb out of your chest?

“I, um—can’t sleep,” you blurted before logic could catch up to your words. “It’s the heat. Thought maybe… you’d want to meet up?”

There was a pause on the other end, long enough that you bit your lip and cursed yourself for saying something so ridiculous. Then Bucky chuckled, low and warm, like he couldn’t quite believe you.

“It’s midnight,” he said, his tone teasing. But then, softer: “Sure.”

You blinked, your stomach flipping in a way that felt entirely too much for someone agreeing to meet you. 

“Cool,” you said, trying for nonchalant.

“Cool,” he echoed. There was a pause, and you could almost picture the amused quirk of his lips. “Uh… so… we actually need a meeting place, if we’re doing this.”

“Oh, gosh, yeah,” you stammered, flustered. Your fingers curled into the sheets as you scrambled for an idea. “Um… your favorite bar? Death and Taxes? That’s still your favorite, right?”

He laughed, soft and deep, like he couldn’t help himself. “Still my favorite. Death and Taxes it is.”

You could almost picture him leaning back against the headboard, his lips quirking up at the corners.

“Okay. See you in a bit.”

“Yeah… see you.”

The call ended, and you pressed your phone against your chest like it could stop your heart from breaking free of your ribcage. For a moment, you just sat there, letting the giddy, reckless feeling take over. You stared at the ceiling, cheeks warm, a wild smile tugging at your lips.

Then you bolted out of bed.

Your closet door creaked open as you rifled through it, tossing rejected options onto the floor. Something light, something comfortable—it wasn’t like this was a date. But still, you didn’t want to look like you’d just rolled out of bed, even though you absolutely had. You finally settled on a loose, flowy top and shorts, tying your hair back with a lazy knot and slipping on your sandals.

The walk to the bar felt longer than it should have, every step only adding to the fluttery mess in your stomach. It wasn’t nerves, exactly—okay, maybe it was nerves. It had been so long since you’d seen him. Long enough that you weren’t entirely sure if you’d even recognize him.

He wasn’t big on social media, wasn’t one for selfies or tagged pictures. Sure, you had the version of him burned into your memory—the sharp jawline, piercing eyes, the way he always looked like he belonged in a leather jacket, even if he wasn’t wearing one. But people changed. What if he’d changed? What if he walked up, and you had to pretend to place him? The thought made your cheeks flush with secondhand embarrassment.

You arrived first, of course. The bar was quiet at this hour, the neon sign glowing faintly against the brick wall, casting soft red and blue hues onto the sidewalk. You stood just outside, rocking slightly on your heels, the night’s heat sticking to your skin. The air buzzed with crickets and the faint hum of cars in the distance, but all you could focus on was the wild beat of your heart.

Would he even look the same? Would it be weird? Would he—

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name cut through your thoughts, and you turned on instinct.

The world slowed.

It wasn’t just a turn. It was a pivot, a gasp caught in your throat as your eyes found him. And oh. Oh, Bucky.

He stood a few feet away, hands shoved into the pockets of dark jeans that fit him almost criminally well. The kind of fit that made your brain short-circuit. His shirt was simple, black, stretched over broad shoulders that practically dared you to look away. His long hair, slightly tousled, caught the faint glow of the neon light, framing his face like he’d just stepped out of a movie poster. And that face. God, that face. The sharp lines of his jaw softened only by the faint stubble that made him look rugged in the most devastating way.

Tall, solid, impossibly handsome—this wasn’t the boy you’d known. This was… something else entirely.

“Hey,” he said, his voice lower, richer than you remembered, like he’d spent the years perfecting it. His lips curled into a small, almost shy smile, but his eyes—blue and bright—were locked on you, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

You stood frozen, blinking up at him, every coherent thought scattering like confetti. It felt like the kind of moment people wrote songs about, the kind where the summer air turned into something magical just because he was in it.

“Bucky,” you managed, your voice embarrassingly breathy. “You… you’re here.”

“I am,” he said, his smile widening slightly. He stepped closer, and you swore you could feel the heat radiating off him even from a foot away. “You… okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Sorry,” you blurted, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. “It’s just… it’s been a while. And you—” You gestured vaguely at him, your face hot. “You’re… you look…”

His brows lifted, his grin turning into something teasing. “I look…?”

Like a Greek god. Like a walking, talking fever dream. Like you’ve ruined every other man for me.

“Good,” you finished lamely, your voice pitching up slightly at the end. “You look good.”

His chuckle was soft, but it wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you caught the way his gaze swept over you. Not hurried, not lazy—just deliberate enough to make your skin tingle.

“So do you,” he said, his tone casual, but the way he said it—low, like it was just for you—sent your heart tumbling into your stomach. “Better than good, actually.”

Your laugh came out nervous and breathy as you tried to deflect. “What, like you expected me to show up in pajamas?”

He shrugged, that teasing smile still playing on his lips. “Wouldn’t have minded. You could probably pull them off.”

It was impossible to tell if he was joking. It was even more impossible to figure out why your brain was suddenly turning into melted butter.

“Anyway,” he said, glancing toward the bar before looking back at you. “Shall we?”

“Y-Yes, let’s go.” you replied, your voice steadier now, though your pulse was still racing.

He smiled again, the kind of smile that felt like a secret, like you were the only one who got to see it. Then he stepped aside, motioning toward the door. 

“After you.”

You hesitated, glancing at him, then the bar. The thought hit you suddenly, startling and unshakable.

You hadn’t seen him in years, but in this moment—on this hot summer night—it felt like no time had passed at all.

× × × × 

The corner booth of Death and Taxes was quieter, tucked away from the hum of late-night laughter and clinking glasses. It wasn’t completely silent—the bar was alive in that effortless, summery way, the air buzzing with heat and conversation—but it was as close as you’d get. You slid into the seat first, leaving him no choice but to take the one directly across from you, where the glow of the dim light caught your face just right.

Not that he was looking too hard or anything.

Except he absolutely was.

“Two cold ones,” you told the waitress, already glancing at him for confirmation. Bucky raised a brow, smirking. “You remembered.”

“Of course,” you said simply, shrugging like it was nothing.

It wasn’t nothing. It was a beer at midnight in a corner booth with you. And he was about two seconds away from grinning like an idiot over it.

When the beers came, you both dove into the fries first—crispy, golden, hot—and he realized he’d missed this. You weren’t in a rush, just talking, the way you always had. The kind of easy, back-and-forth rhythm that made him feel like no time had passed.

“It’s been a long time,” he said, taking a sip of his drink before leaning back in his seat. “How’ve you been?”

You tilted your head thoughtfully, your lips curving into a small smile. “Oh, you know. I haven’t really changed much. Still working hard.”

Your voice was light, but it made his chest ache anyway. He knew that look, the way you brushed off the weight of your own life like it wasn’t worth mentioning.

“I’m the same. Still working hard,” he replied. His eyes lingered on you for a beat too long before he asked, “You still dating that same guy?”

He shouldn’t have asked. He knew it the second the words left his mouth. But curiosity—or something else entirely—had gotten the better of him.

“Oh. Um, no.” You busied yourself with your beer, the glass cool against your hand. “We broke up.”

His heart gave a little kick, though he tried not to show it. “You guys broke up? Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He reached for a fry, half-smiling. “It’s good to see you anyway.”

“It’s okay,” you said softly, looking up at him again. There was something unreadable in your gaze, something he wanted to spend the rest of the night deciphering. “It was a while back. But it’s good to see you too.”

God, stop looking at me like that.

He leaned forward, his elbow on the table, watching the way your fingers idly traced the condensation on your glass. “Time goes by so fast, huh?” he mused. “We’ve already come all this way, but how come you haven’t changed at all?”

You raised a brow at him, playful but curious.

You tilted your head at him, your brow arching slightly, the corners of your mouth quirking.

“You’re still pretty,” he added, and though he chuckled, his words landed softer than he expected. Half-joking, yeah, but the truth was so clear it hurt.

Your reaction wasn’t what he expected. You looked down, your fingers brushing the rim of your glass as a quiet laugh escaped you. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said lightly, waving him off before quickly changing the subject. “So, what about you? Been up to anything exciting?”

Why are you changing the subject? The thought rolled through his mind, unbidden but persistent. His eyes lingered on your face, the way you avoided his gaze with that bashful smile. Is it because of the alcohol or because you’re shy?

He shifted in his seat, resting his chin on his hand as he leaned forward. “What, you don’t want me getting sentimental on you?”

Your laugh bubbled up again, the sound warm and easy, but you didn’t answer.

Yeah, he thought, watching the way you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, your cheeks just a shade warmer than before. It’s because you’re shy.

And god help him, it only made him want to say more.

Bucky took another long sip of his beer, the cool bitterness doing little to distract him from the way your smile lingered in his mind, soft and teasing. The overhead lights cast a warm glow on your skin, and he could see the faint sheen of summer heat clinging to your collarbones. You were leaning forward slightly, your chin propped on your hand, completely at ease—or so it seemed.

His thumb traced the rim of his glass absently, the thought bubbling up in his chest before he could push it down.

“I want to tell you something,” he said, his voice low but steady.

You tilted your head slightly, the curious quirk of your brow pulling his attention to the way your lips curved.

“Hm? And what’s that?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. He swirled the beer in his glass once, then set it down deliberately, as if that might make this easier. 

“I used to like you before.”

For a moment, he thought he’d miscalculated. That he’d said too much too soon. But then your reaction broke through his nerves like sunlight on water—a faint laugh, soft and disarming.

“I know,” you said, your tone light, but your gaze flicked to your drink, your fingers tracing the condensation on the glass like it might give you something to hold onto.

The simple words knocked the air clean out of his lungs.

You know? His mind stumbled over the implications. Had he been that obvious? Had you noticed the way he looked at you back then, the way he’d hovered just a little too long when you stood close, his fingers itching to brush yours?

He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. 

“Guess I’m a little drunk. Don’t mind my ramblings,” he muttered, leaning back like that would somehow lessen the weight of what he’d just said.

You gave him a look, one brow arched, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You don’t get drunk.”

Shit.

“I—uh—” His hand rubbed at the back of his neck, heat creeping up to his ears as he tried for a laugh. “Right. Forgot who I was talking to.”

Your smirk grew, but you didn’t press him further. Instead, you took another fry, dipping it in the ketchup and nibbling on the end. His gaze followed the movement like he had no choice in the matter, his thoughts spinning helplessly.

You knew? He wanted to ask, wanted to make you spell it out, wanted to hear it in your voice. Did you really know? Or was this some casual observation, something you didn’t think twice about while it had consumed him for years?

But then you glanced up, your eyes meeting his, and the warmth there—gentle, a little shy—unraveled something in him.

He leaned forward again, resting his arms on the table, his beer forgotten. “If you knew,” he said, his voice quiet now, almost teasing, “why didn’t you say anything?”

You blinked, caught off guard, but the smile that followed was soft. “Why didn’t you?”

His laugh was quiet, rueful. “Touché.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The noise of the bar faded into the background, the space between you charged with something unspoken, something almost tangible. Bucky watched as you took another sip of your drink, your lashes casting shadows on your cheeks, your lips brushing the edge of the glass.

“Do you still?” you asked suddenly, your voice tentative, like the words had escaped without permission.

His heart stuttered, the question catching him off guard. He could lie, brush it off like he had before, but the thought of hiding how he felt—after all this time, after you—felt impossible.

Instead, he leaned forward, close enough that he could see the way your breath caught. 

“What do you think?” he murmured, his voice low, his gaze fixed on yours.

And the way your cheeks flushed, the way your lips parted ever so slightly, was enough to make him think that maybe, just maybe, you already knew the answer.

You let out a nervous huff, the sound breaking through the air between you, as fragile as it was charged. His words hung there, lingering like they had weight, like they could change everything if you gave them room. But you didn’t trust yourself to stay in that moment—not when his gaze was locked on yours like that, steady and warm and impossibly deep.

“It’s getting hot in here,” you said quickly, your voice pitched higher than usual as you slid out of the booth. “We should, um… we should take a walk. Go someplace else.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you dared a glance at him. He was leaning back in his chair now, his head tilted slightly, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips. But then he nodded, standing with that same effortless grace that had always made him seem larger than life.

“Sure,” he said simply, his voice easy, as if he hadn’t just made your heart feel like it was trying to claw its way out of your chest. He nodded, standing with that quiet ease of his, reaching for his wallet before you could protest.

You jumped up quickly, your excitement spilling over as you moved toward the door without waiting for him. The cool night air hit your skin as soon as you stepped outside, a welcome relief from the stuffy warmth of the bar. You breathed it in deeply, the summer heat still clinging to the pavement, but at least the air felt freer out here.

“We’re walking, huh?” Bucky said from behind you, his voice teasing but warm. “Got a specific destination in mind, or are we just wandering?”

“Wandering,” you said brightly, not slowing your pace. “Who needs a plan, anyway?”

You felt light, like your feet barely touched the ground as you walked ahead of him, your sandals clicking softly against the pavement. The streetlights cast golden pools along the sidewalk, your shadow dancing playfully as you moved. You threw a glance over your shoulder to see if he was keeping up, and the way he was watching you—his hands stuffed in his pockets, his lips curved into a soft, crooked smile—made something inside you flutter wildly.

“You’re gonna leave me behind,” he called, his tone mock-scolding.

“Then hurry up!” you called back, laughing as you skipped a few steps ahead, your movements careless and free.

For a moment, it felt perfect. Like something out of a summer dream, the hum of crickets filling the quiet spaces between your laughter and his easy steps.

And then—oh god.

A shadow darted near your face, too fast and too sudden, and you froze in the middle of the sidewalk. It took you half a second to process it—a beetle, its shiny wings catching the light as it buzzed straight toward you.

“AH! GO AWAY.” The words tumbled out as you flailed, stumbling backward and nearly losing a shoe in the process.

Bucky stopped in his tracks, his brows shooting up. “What the—?”

“BUG!” you yelped, pointing wildly at the air around you. “It’s flying! Do something!”

The beetle buzzed again, its wings making a high-pitched hum as it veered closer. You squeaked, ducking dramatically and running behind Bucky like he was a human shield.

He turned, his expression somewhere between concern and disbelief. “Are you serious right now? It’s just a beetle.”

“It’s not just a beetle!” you hissed, gripping his arm like your life depended on it. “It’s a flying. Look at it!”

He glanced at the beetle, then back at you, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You’re freaking out over that? It’s like… half an inch.”

“It’s not the size that matters!” you shot back, still cowering behind him. “It’s the intent! Look at it—it’s coming for me!”

That did it. He broke, his laughter spilling out in soft, rich waves that vibrated through his chest. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, but he stepped forward anyway, waving a hand to shoo the beetle away.

When it finally buzzed off into the night, you peeked over his shoulder cautiously, still clutching his arm. 

“Is it gone?”

“Yes, it’s gone,” he said, still chuckling. “You can come out of hiding now.”

You straightened, brushing imaginary dirt off your top as if that might restore some of your dignity. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Don’t mention it, bug magnet.” His voice was full of barely concealed laughter, and you turned to glare at him, but he only grinned wider, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Not funny,” you muttered, though you couldn’t quite keep the smile from tugging at your lips.

“Oh, it’s very funny,” he countered, and the warmth in his gaze made your chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with the beetle.

And when his hand brushed against yours as you both started walking again, your heart skipped so hard you thought it might give out entirely.

× × × ×

The hill wasn’t far—just a short walk past quiet streets and through a small park. The city stretched out below like a sea of twinkling lights, the soft hum of distant traffic blending with the chirping of crickets. The air was still warm, but up here, a slight breeze brushed against your skin, carrying the scent of grass and something faintly sweet.

You spotted the bench first, nestled beneath a tall tree, its silhouette just visible against the glow of the city below. Without waiting for him, you made your way over, plopping down with a contented sigh and stretching your legs out in front of you. The wood was cool against your skin, grounding you after the walk.

Bucky followed, his steps slower, more deliberate. When he reached the bench, he hesitated for a moment before sitting beside you, close enough that your knees almost touched. Almost.

“Nice spot,” he said, leaning back and resting an arm along the back of the bench, his fingers just brushing your shoulder. His voice was low, casual, but there was a softness to it, like he wasn’t just talking about the view.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your gaze fixed on the skyline. The city lights flickered like a million little stars, stretching endlessly, but you couldn’t help feeling like the real magic was sitting next to you. “I used to come up here a lot.”

“Alone?” His voice tilted just enough to make the word feel heavier than it should.

“Sometimes,” you said, glancing at him. His profile was sharp against the faint glow of the streetlights, his hair falling in soft waves that caught the breeze. You looked back at the city quickly, your heart tripping over itself. “It’s peaceful. Helps me think.”

“Think about what?” His voice was closer now, like he’d leaned in just a little. You felt the weight of his gaze on you, like he could see through every answer you wanted to give and straight to the truth.

“Stuff,” you said vaguely, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. “Life. Work.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” he said, and when you glanced at him, his lips were curved into that crooked, teasing smile that made your chest ache.

“I’m not lying!” you protested, though your voice betrayed you, the words coming out more flustered than you intended.

“You’re thinking about me,” he said, so casually it took you a second to realize what he’d said.

Your head snapped toward him, your mouth falling open in protest, but the look on his face stopped you cold. His smile was soft now, his blue eyes steady and full of something you couldn’t quite name.

“Admit it,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “I take up way too much space in that head of yours.”

You scoffed, trying to sound indignant, but the laugh that followed betrayed you. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m right,” he countered, leaning just a little closer, his arm still stretched along the back of the bench. His fingers brushed your shoulder again, light and deliberate, like a dare. “And you know it.”

You rolled your eyes, looking away, but your lips twitched into a smile. “You’ve got a big ego, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he said, and when you glanced back, the grin he gave you was pure trouble. “But I’m not wrong.”

The moment stretched, the silence between you filled only by the faint breeze and the hum of the city below. His gaze never wavered, steady and unrelenting, and you felt yourself drawn in despite every effort to look away.

“You still haven’t denied it,” he pointed out, his voice quieter now, softer. 

Your heart pounded, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “What’s the point? You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

He laughed softly, the sound rich and warm. 

“You’re right,” he admitted, his smile tilting into something almost sheepish. “I wouldn’t.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your own laugh, but it slipped out anyway, light and breathless. 

“Ugh.”

“I mean who did you call to meet you out here? At midnight?” he shot back, his tone lighter now, teasing but full of warmth.

You looked at him then, really looked at him, the way the light caught in his eyes, the faint crinkle at the corners of his smile. 

“Maybe I should’ve called someone else.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up, his lips twitching into an incredulous grin. “Someone else?” he repeated, leaning in slightly, the faintest spark of amusement dancing in his eyes. “You wound me, doll.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “I’m serious. Maybe Sam—”

“Sam?” he cut in, a laugh slipping out before he could stop it. He leaned back, spreading his arms along the bench like he was getting comfortable for the show. “You think Sam would leave his comfy bed and perfectly air-conditioned apartment to meet you at midnight? Please.”

“Well—”

“And don’t even say Steve,” he continued, cutting off whatever rebuttal you had. “You know he’s asleep by nine. The man’s practically a grandpa.”

You laughed, unable to help yourself, and the sound only seemed to spur him on.

“Face it,” he said, leaning forward now, his voice dropping just enough to make your breath catch. “I’m the only one you could call. You wanted me here.”

Your mouth opened, a half-formed protest on the tip of your tongue, but his expression stopped you cold. The teasing curve of his lips was still there, but his eyes—they were steady, intent, like he was daring you to deny it.

“I…” you started, faltering when you realized he wasn’t going to look away.

“Go on,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of challenge. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you managed, your fingers twisting in your lap.

“That you wanted me here.” His smile turned into something softer, warmer, but no less devastating. “That when you couldn’t sleep, I was the first person you thought of.”

Your breath hitched, and you could feel your face heating under his gaze. You tried to look away, to laugh it off, but he leaned in closer, his elbow resting on his knee, his face just inches from yours.

“C’mon,” he coaxed, his voice dropping even lower. “Admit it. It’s only fair.”

“Fair?” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Yeah. I already told you I used to like you.” He tilted his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your lips for the briefest second before finding your eyes again. “Your turn.”

Your heart pounded, your hands freezing in your lap, and you swore the city had gone completely silent around you. His eyes searched yours, his expression soft but unyielding, like he was ready to wait forever if he had to.

And god help you, you couldn’t decide if you wanted to run—or pull him closer.

“Pft—it’s not like it’s going to change anything,” you reasoned, though your voice betrayed you, soft and unsteady. You looked away, focusing on the skyline instead of the man sitting far too close, his presence making it impossible to think straight.

Bucky didn’t move for a moment, letting your words hang in the air between you. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, quiet—dangerously deliberate. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

Your breath caught, and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing back at him. He was leaning forward now, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped loosely together. But his eyes—they were locked on you, piercing, like they were unraveling every carefully constructed excuse you’d ever made.

“How is that wrong?” you challenged, though your voice wavered, giving you away.

He let out a soft laugh, the kind that felt like it had been pulled from deep in his chest. “Because,” he said, leaning back again, his arm stretching across the bench behind you, his fingers just brushing your shoulder. “It changes everything.”

Your stomach flipped, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” he shot back, and there was that teasing edge again, soft and warm but dangerous because it was him. “Tell me, doll, what happens if I kiss you right now?”

Your heart slammed against your ribs, and you froze, your hands gripping the edge of the bench like it might keep you grounded. 

“You wouldn’t.”

Bucky tilted his head, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—didn’t waver. He was studying you like you were some sort of puzzle, his gaze tracing every line of your face, every small movement you made.

“Wouldn’t I?” His voice was low, rough, like gravel smoothed over by honey. And god, it wasn’t fair, the way it made your skin prickle, the way it sent your heart into a dizzying spiral.

You turned your head sharply, staring out at the city like it might save you from whatever this was. But it wasn’t saving you. Not with the way he leaned just a little closer, his arm still draped casually over the back of the bench, his fingers now brushing against your shoulder. The heat of him was impossible to ignore.

“No,” you said, your voice firmer this time, but it still wavered at the end. “You wouldn’t.”

He let out a soft laugh, the sound so low and intimate it curled around you like smoke. “Why’s that?”

“Because—” You faltered, your brain scrambling for a reason, for any reason. “Because you’re all talk.”

Bucky’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened, his lips curving in that maddening way that made your stomach twist and your chest tighten. 

“All talk?” he repeated, his voice a low murmur that slipped over your skin like silk. “That’s what you think of me?”

You swallowed hard, refusing to look at him, even though you could feel his gaze on you—hot, heavy, and completely unrelenting. Your pulse thundered in your ears, a wild, uneven rhythm that made it impossible to think.

“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat because suddenly, he moved.

He shifted closer, the bench creaking softly under his weight. His arm stretched further along the backrest, and when you finally glanced at him, he was right there. His face hovered just inches from yours, his blue eyes impossibly intense, locked onto yours like he was daring you to look away.

“How about,” he whispered, his voice low and rough enough to send a shiver racing down your spine, “you kiss me, and I’ll show you.”

You inhaled sharply, awareness flaring through every nerve in your body. Kiss him? God, he wanted you to kiss him? He was so close, his lips so close to yours, his warm breath whispering across your mouth. His warm breath ghosted over your skin, and the faint scent of beer and something unmistakably him made your head spin.

“Kiss me,” he said again, his voice low and almost hoarse. He was hovering near you, so tantalizingly close, but decidedly not kissing you. He was waiting for you to press your lips to his, but coming as close to you as he could. Tempting you, encouraging you, pulling you in.

Do it. The thought whispered through your mind, reckless and insistent. He was so close. So impossibly close. One small shift forward, and—

Instead, you faltered, glancing down at his lips. “You’re bluffing.”

His lips twitched into a small, infuriating smirk. “Try me.”

You felt drawn forward as if by a magnet. Lightly, delicately, you pressed your lips to his, feeling how much you trembled, how insubstantial and frail your kiss felt but unable to do anything more. You lingered for just a moment, and then pulled back, uncertainly.

Bucky remained still, not moving, so close, his chest now against yours. He didn't kiss you, he didn't smile, or say anything, and you felt an unfamiliar tremor of panic rise in you.

“I thought you said you'd show me,” you said ruefully, your cheeks beginning to burn. Had you done it wrong? Could a kiss be wrong? You could barely remember your name right now, let alone how to kiss someone. 

Especially this someone.

“Oh I will,” Bucky whispered. “I'm just waiting for you to really kiss me.”

Something in the timbre of his voice, something in the drowsy desire of his words emboldened you. You leaned forward and kissed him more sensuously, taking his lips with yours, opening your mouth and savouring the fullness of his. And with only the slightest of pauses, Bucky took over.

He leaned against your heavily, almost surging into you, his mouth roaming over yours with a heady, sensual slowness that ignited you. His lips moved over yours possessively, with a slow, languid rhythm as his tongue dipped into your mouth to taste you. When his tongue met yours, you let out a little cry of pleasure, feeling an arrow of desire shoot right down to your core.

He groaned at the sound and dipped his tongue into your mouth and out again rhythmically, as if making love to you. One hand slipped around your back and held you while the other slid up to your breast and felt you, owned you, roamed over you like you were a longed-for prize. He groaned against you, and his kiss deepened into a hot, sensual exploration.

You felt weightless, boneless, all but liquefied by the heat of his mouth on yours and the strength of his hands caressing every part of you. His sounds of pleasure, his soft groans and heavy breathing, every male expression of pleasure made you even more desperate for him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down into you, kissing him with abandon.

There was no time for words, no breath to be stolen for the little flirtations of new lovers, there was simply this kiss. You fell into each other, seeking, needing, as if making up for all the years you had denied yourselves this pleasure. It was never enough, there was never a moment when it seemed right to part, never the need to break and bring lips to skin, or to fumble with clothing. It was all consuming, and erotic enough, this deep, soulful kiss, this meeting of mouths and breath and sounds.

You weren't friends...not now, and not ever, you suddenly knew. You had always been this to each other, always one breath away from this, always one kiss away. .  one breathless, soulful, beautiful kiss.

Finally—finally—when the need for air had peaked, when the thundering of your hearts needed calming, he reluctantly pulled away, his chest rising and falling with each laboured breath. He smiled at you, a soft laugh escaping through his breathing.

“Now that,” he said, bumping his nose against you as his breath finally began to slow. “Is kissing back.”

Your fingers brushing against your own lips as if to confirm what just happened. Heat crept up your neck and into your cheeks, and you suddenly couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

“I—I should probably get home,” you stammered, your voice higher than you intended. “It’s late.”

Bucky’s brow lifted, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he straightened slightly, his hand lingering at your elbow for just a moment before dropping away. “Alright,” he said softly, his voice warm and steady. “I’ll walk you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“You think I’d let you walk home alone?” His eyes narrowed slightly, his tone shifting to something more serious, though the teasing lilt never fully disappeared. “Not a chance, doll.”

Before you could protest again, he was already on his feet, reaching out a hand to help you up. His grip was firm but gentle, his fingers warm around yours, and when you stood, the faintest squeeze sent another ripple of heat through you.

The walk started quietly. The soft noise of crickets filled the summer night, the distant glow of the city lights casting a faint halo on the horizon. The air was thick with unspoken words, every glance and sidelong look charged with the memory of the kiss you’d just shared.

Bucky fell into step beside you, his pace unhurried but purposeful. You noticed it immediately—how he positioned himself closer to the road, his body a silent barrier between you and the passing cars. It was such a small thing, something most people might not even notice, but it made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with the lingering taste of his kiss.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy, the kind that made you acutely aware of everything—of the way his shoulder brushed yours every now and then, of the soft scuff of his boots against the pavement, of the way your heart hadn’t quite settled back into its normal rhythm.

And then, without warning, his hand brushed against yours. It was fleeting, accidental, but the spark it sent through you was impossible to ignore. You glanced up at him, your pulse quickening as you caught the way his lips quirked into the faintest smile.

He didn’t say anything—just slipped his fingers through yours, his grip warm and steady, his thumb brushing softly against your knuckles. The gesture was so simple, so natural, but it felt monumental, like crossing some invisible line you could never return from.

You couldn’t help but glance at him again, your lips parting to say something—anything—but the words died on your tongue when you saw the way he was looking at you. His expression was soft, almost shy.

He didn’t look away, and neither did you. The streetlights flickered as you walked beneath them, their glow casting golden pools on the sidewalk, but all you could see was him.

“Are you always this quiet after a kiss?” he asked suddenly, his voice low and teasing, though there was a softness to it that made your heart flutter.

Your face heated, and you looked down at your joined hands, your laugh shaky. “Are you always this smug after one?”

He laughs.

“Depends,” he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again,“Was it good enough to be smug about?”

You shot him a look, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “Wow, you’re already smug anyway. . .”

“And yet,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make your breath catch, “you’re still holding my hand.”

You didn’t have an answer for that. Or maybe you did, but it was lost somewhere between the heat of his gaze and the warmth of his palm against yours. And somehow, you didn’t mind one bit.

The walk to your door felt like it ended too soon. One moment, the quiet streets were stretching ahead of you, your hand warm in his, and now, here you were—standing on your front step with no excuse to linger.

Your fingers twitched reluctantly as you let go of his hand, the cool night air rushing in where his warmth had been. You caught the faintest flicker of something on his face—hesitation, maybe?—but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a soft, crooked smile.

The faint glow of your porch light cast soft shadows across his face, making the lines of his jaw and the curve of his lips seem even sharper, even softer all at once.

“I had so much fun today,” Bucky said, his voice quiet but steady, the kind of low timbre that seemed to settle somewhere deep in your chest. “It was so good seeing you.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, your lips curving into a smile even as your heart ached. “Me too.”

He shifted slightly, the smallest movement that still felt impossibly significant. “Good night,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, almost hesitant.

You nodded, your own voice barely above a whisper. “Good night.”

But he didn’t turn to leave. Instead, he lingered, his gaze holding yours like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

“You have a sweet dream,” he added, his words softer now, gentler, and they hit you like a warm breeze. His lips tilted into a small, almost bashful smile, and the tenderness in his expression stole whatever breath you had left.

You barely managed to nod, your throat too tight to speak. But before you could even think about what to say, he stepped forward, closing the space between you in one unhurried movement.

His arms wrapped around you, solid and warm, pulling you into him without hesitation. It wasn’t hurried or awkward—it was grounding, steadying, like he’d been waiting all night for this. The scent of him—faintly woodsy, clean, and musky—washed over you as his hands settled lightly on your back, and your face pressed against his chest. You could feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing, the strength in the way he held you as though he didn’t want the moment to slip away.

“Good night,” he murmured again, his voice rumbling softly against your hair. His arms tightened slightly before he finally, finally let you go, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary before dropping to his sides.

You stepped back, your heart thundering as you looked up at him. 

You swallowed hard, your lips curving into a smile as you opened your door. “Good night, Bucky.”

As the door clicked shut behind you, you leaned against it, your chest rising and falling as you tried to calm your racing heart. On the other side, you imagined him standing there for just a moment longer, smiling to himself the way he always did when he thought no one was looking.

And somehow, that made everything feel perfect.

tags: @lomlbuckybarnes @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mostlymarvelgirl

@missvelvetsstuff @unaxv @carnal-vogue @bmyva1entine @wheredidiputmyfish

@thereoncewasagirlnamedjane @wanda-widow @filmologetica @awaywithtime @Thealyrs

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @winchestert101 @strawberrybisou @unaxv @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fynnwolff @veronicapaula

[muletia]

Oh my heart! ;u; I simply love your fics!

Imagine first time when obsessed!Optimus receives physical contact with reader. It wouldn't even be that big thing, just mere touch of hand when reader gives/receives something to/from Optimus.

thank you <3333

imagine being the first human he’s ever touched

word count: 420

When your phone slips from your hands, optimus reacts instantly. With a speed unnatural for a being of his size, he catches the falling device in his servo before it can hit the ground and be lost forever. It looks ridiculous—the phone is microscopic compared to him—but you’re not laughing. After all, he just saved you from a massive and unnecessary expense.

"Oh my gosh, thank you so much," you exhale in relief. The conversation with him had absorbed you so completely that you momentarily forgot you were even holding your phone. A big mistake, especially when leaning your forearms against a railing several meters above the ground.

Optimus returns the device to you, satisfied to have been of help. As you take it back into your hands, your skin brushes against his metal ever so slightly. The contact is brief, less than a second, but it’s enough to leave a significant impression on him. You’re warm and so incredibly soft. He has never encountered a texture like yours before— so pleasant, so delicate. It’s unfamiliar, unknown, but addictive. Electric. He could swear he felt sparks when you touched him, igniting something uncontrollable, a fire that would burn within him for a long time — untamed, wild, fierce.

He wonders if your entire body is this soft. Does the rest of your arm match the velvet of your hand? Or perhaps your hand isn’t the right measure — perhaps there’s a way to be even softer. He longs to feel it, to experience it for himself. He wants to touch you again. But he shouldn’t, he can’t. That fleeting moment must suffice, even though he knows it’s impossible. No amount of contact with you would ever be enough.

He already knows he’ll keep thinking back to this moment, trying to recreate the sensation of your skin on his servo. He knows he’ll find himself staring at that exact spot where the contact occurred; feels that the sparks gave life to desire and passion, a force he won’t be able to control. He thought you had already laid all your cards on the table, that nothing about you could surprise him anymore, that it would end with him merely fantasizing about being in your presence. He thought he could live with that, or at least grow accustomed to it. Oh, how gravely mistaken he was.

"You are most welcome, but, please, be careful in the future."

You smile, and his spark glows brighter.

The sparks still dance across his servo.

[guilty-pleasures21]

i have this fun take that jason works his crime lord stuff at warehouse with his goons however none other bats could go in (he forbids it) except the bat theme vigilante! reader. Sometimes the reader just go there, whether visit him to help her with her cases or annoy jason bc ofc she can, well she is his best friend slash badass girlfriend. However sometimes his goons just wondering what are their relationship without prying too much on their boss’ life. I would hope you like this request (if youre in the mood to write it) and I hope that makes sense tho because english is not my first language

The warehouse

Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry I took so long, babe! I was racking my brain every night trying to come up with a coherent storyline 😅! This is fun though! I like to imagine Reader just making Jason look silly, but he allows it because he’s head over heels for her!

Warnings: implicit descriptions of sex (male x female).

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     She burst through the roof and landed on the balcony overlooking the interior of the old abandoned factory. Well, ‘abandoned’ was more like it: the space was filled with busy men who had frozen in their tracks to stare up at her in horror. X placed her hands on her hips and fixed them all with her most threatening frown. “I demand to speak to your boss!”

     “Right here, princess,” the Red Hood sighed from behind her. X turned around and her face lit up immediately when she saw him, burly arms folded across his chest, his rugged features probably arranged into an exasperated look beneath his helmet. She took a step closer to him and her brows crashed together again as she placed her hands on his bulky shoulders. 

     “You know I don’t like it when you wear your helmet, Hood,” she whined, purposefully making her voice all high-pitched. “Why don’t you wear your mask?” 

     Jason let out another weary sigh and wrapped an arm around her to start guiding her in the direction of his office. 

     “Keep going, everyone,” he assured his henchmen, “I’ll handle this.” 

     His goons exchanged confused glances with one another, but quickly returned to their operations as their boss led the hero away. Jason locked the door behind him once they were safely inside his office, then he focused his full attention on X. “What are you doing here?” 

     She leaped onto his sofa and lay back, stretching herself out so her suit clung tightly to her every curve. Jason’s eyes followed the lines of her body, admiring her lush figure, and his hands began to ache with the need to run all over her soft skin. X grinned, completely aware of the effect she was having on the tough vigilante. 

     “I wanted to see your handsome face, Hood!” she replied, still using that ridiculously innocent tone on him. “But since you’re wearing your helmet …” 

     She pursed her lips, as if disappointed by her fruitless journey, but then she propped herself up on her elbow and lowered her eyes to his torso instead. “I guess I’ll just have to admire your delicious body instead.” 

     Jason swallowed down the saliva that gathered in his mouth at the way she licked her lips while her eyes trailed over him. Thank God he was wearing his helmet or she’d be able to see the way the tips of his ears and the back of his neck reddened otherwise. He cleared his throat and glanced away from her, calming himself down before removing his helmet. He was still wearing his mask underneath, concealing his identity from anyone who didn’t already know him, but it was enough of a glimpse of his face to keep his girlfriend happy. X grinned and rolled over onto her stomach, letting her hair fall over her shoulder. Jason pulled his gaze away from her again and cleared his throat. “You could have just waited at home, sweetheart.” 

     X pushed herself to her feet and walked over to Jason. She slid onto his lap and her fingers immediately made their way into his hair. She pulled on the strands gently, tugging his head back and forcing his lips to align with hers. Her mouth watered in anticipation of feeling the rough ridges of his wide lips brushing across hers, but she forced herself to look away and get up again. She knew she wouldn’t be able to resist kissing him if she’d glanced up and seen the way his pupils dilated whenever he was looking at her mouth. And, shit, he was such a good kisser that she always found it impossible to drag herself away from him once they got caught up in a heated makeout session. X hopped up onto the edge of Jason’s desk and pulled a thumb drive out of one of her pockets. 

     He raised an eyebrow as she held the small drive out to him, her lips twisted into a begrudging smirk. “What’s this?” 

     X crossed one leg over the other as he plugged the drive into his computer, lightly trailing the tip of her boot along the inside of his muscled thigh. “How trusting, Red Hood. How do you know I didn’t just hand you a virus I could use to hack into your computer and get all your contacts?” 

     Jason’s gaze flickered up to her and his eyes were immediately pulled to her chest, her luscious curves on full display. He pushed aside the desire rapidly pooling in his core and fixed her with a knowing look. 

     “Did you want all my contacts?” He grabbed her ankle and held her leg in place so he could sneak his thumbs beneath her tights and begin rubbing small circles along her bare skin. “You know all you’d have to do is ask, princess.”

     She closed her eyes as the low murmur of his voice danced along her bones. He was always so smooth and so put together that she relished every chance she got to have the upper hand over him. X bit down on her lip as Jason kept his grip on her foot, using the pain to distract herself from his featherlight touches, but finally, she opened her eyes to sneak a peek at him. His tongue darted out from between his lips as his hungry gaze travelled over her body and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down the saliva rapidly gathering in his mouth. He looked up at her and smirked when he caught her gaze trained intensely on him. X gulped at the smug look on his face and quickly pulled her foot away from him. 

     “I-I …” Her voice came out breathy and she mentally reprimanded herself for letting him get the upper hand. “It’s for my new case: this is all the evidence that was collected from the crime scene. I wanted you to check if I’d missed something.”

     Jason spun around to his computer and opened up the drive to start clicking through the images. His eyes widened with horror when he realised who the victim probably was - and who the likely suspect was as well: Carmine Falcone. No way would he let his precious little girlfriend get mixed up with such a notorious villain. He closed the file and turned to X with a scowl. “Who gave you this case?” 

     Her lips parted, confused by her boyfriend’s sudden change in demeanour. “I … just got stuck with it because everyone else thought it was too boring.”

     “Well, they were wrong.” Jason removed the drive from his computer and tossed it into one of his desk drawers. “You’re not taking this case, princess.”

     X furrowed her brows, caught between bewilderment and amusement: Jason could be a little overprotective of her sometimes. Not that she didn’t love having someone who was so perfectly capable of taking care of her and making her feel safe! She just found that he could be a tad dramatic sometimes … “I have a name, you know, sweetheart.”

     Jason narrowed his eyes at her overly saccharine tone. He stood up and placed his hands on either side of her. “You’re not taking this case, Nightingale.”

     X took in the threatening frown on his face, then she wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed her lips out in a pout. 

     “No fair!” she complained. “Why do you always get to have all the fun, Hood?” Suddenly, her expression morphed into a devious grin and she tickled the base of his skull with her fingernails. 

     “We could solve this case together?” she suggested. “The two of us working in perfect synchrony …” She stretched up, bringing her lips to his ear so she murmur softly into it, her voice low and thick with lust. 

     “And no one would even know how good the big, bad Red Hood f*cks the city’s sweet little Nightingale to sleep in his bed every night,” she finished naughtily. 

     “F*ck.” Jason’s eyes rolled back in his head as all the blood rushed immediately to his core. Because who in their right mind would ever picture the rough and hardened vigilante running his hands and teeth and tongue all over the naked body of their sweet little superhero? Corrupting her in his bed every night while she mewled desperately for his c*ck? He dug his fingers into the table, restraining himself from touching her. He took a step back, forcing her hands to fall away from his shoulders, and the distance allowed him to finally regain control of his thoughts. “I’ll handle this case, princess. I’ll talk to Batman about it.”

     She swung her legs back and forth, trying to decide between telling him off for ordering her around and just letting him do her work for her. But she didn’t want him to take on extra work on her account, though she supposed it would be sufficient punishment for the demeaning way he was treating her right then. She folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes at him.

     “I’m not a child, Hood,” she told him, the anger taking over. “But if you want to treat me as such, then don’t complain about the consequences that come with it.”

     She stalked towards the door, making to leave, but Jason jumped out of his seat and quickly caught her wrist.

     “Nightingale,” he sighed, finally realising how his authoritative tone might have come across. X stopped, but refused to turn around and face him. “I’m just … The people involved in this case are too dangerous, sweetheart.”

     He lifted his hand to wrap his arms around her and pull her close to him, but then he hesitated. What if she pushed him aside in disgust, unwilling to forgive his mistakes any longer? He tugged her wrist to test the waters and X collapsed back into his chest, relieving all the tension from his body. He squeezed her against him, holding her tightly against his chest, and pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

     “I can’t-” His voice cracked, but he recovered quickly. “I’m not going to let you get hurt, Nightingale.”

     X sighed at the earnestness in his voice and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Okay.”

     Jason patted her back gently and bent over to press another kiss to the top of her head … But then someone banged on the door.

     “Boss?!” one of his goons’ panicked voice came from the other side of the door. “Are you all right?! Has she got you?! Blink twice if the answer is ‘yes’!”

     “You idiot!” another man’s rough voice interrupted. “How are we gonna know if he’s blinking?!”

     “Oh yeah …” the first man replied. “We’re coming in, boss!”

     “No! Don’t-” Jason leaped away from his girlfriend just as his goons came barreling into the room. They zoomed straight in between the two of them and crashed into the wall at the end before landing in a crumpled heap on the ground. 

     “Shit,” Jason muttered, racing over to check on his henchmen. X followed after him, rapidly assessing the two men’s injuries: thankfully, they’d seemed to have just bruised their arms after breaking the door down and running straight into the wall - no sign of any head injuries or concussions. She straightened with a relieved smile. 

     “They should be fine,” she assured Jason. She turned around and sauntered to the door, swaying her hips teasingly. Then she stopped in the doorway and twisted around to look back at him, stretching her body in such a way to accentuate her curves. “Oh and my offer still stands, Mr Big Bad Red Hood.”

     She enunciated the words carefully and Jason’s body heated up as her eyes roved all over him beneath her mask. She grinned at the sudden tightness in his posture and swivelled back around to resume her exit. “You know where to find me if you want to take me up on it. I’ll be waiting, sweetheart.”

     Her tone was teasing - challenging - and Jason gulped as she turned back to shoot him one last wicked grin. He watched quietly as she grappled out of his warehouse, disappearing into the night, and his mind started running wild with ideas on all the positions he could possibly find her in once he returned home.

     “Um, what's she talking about, boss?” one of his men asked him, his voice slightly shaky. Jason turned to find both his goons blushing at his girlfriend's lascivious tone - except that they didn't even know that she was his girlfriend. They were just wondering why the cute and pretty hero was using what was very clearly her bedroom voice on their large and threatening boss. Jason gulped as her earlier words echoed in his mind, but he forced down his desire and drew himself to his full height.

     “Nothing. She … was just warning me about a case involving Falcone,” Jason told them. “Keep an eye on your families, boys: he doesn't seem to be in a good mood. And if he ever threatens any one of you, you come straight to me, got it?”

     The men nodded vigorously, heeding their boss’s warning: the Red Hood never steered them wrong, so they'd follow his words to the letter. “Got it, boss.”

     “Good. Let the others know.” Jason headed towards the door, but paused in the doorway, hesitating. “And go home: it's getting late. I'm calling it a day.”

     Then he left without another word.

     Spoiler landed on the rooftop next to Nightingale.

     “Hey, your location was switched off. Where’d you go?” Her tone was unconcerned, as  if she already knew exactly where Nightingale had been whilst she’d gone dark over their comms, but she waited expectantly for her response anyway. 

     X raised her eyebrows at her friend and teammate: she wasn’t buying Stephanie’s innocent tone. “Hood’s warehouse.”

     She grappled through the air, leaping from one building to the next as they began their trek back to the batcave.

     “Well, where is it?” Stephanie asked once they’d stopped for a brief break. Nightingale shot her a wry smile. 

     “You know he doesn’t want you guys knowing where it is.” She took off again and Spoiler quickly caught up, keeping pace with her.

     “Why?” she asked, genuinely confused. “It’s not like we’re gonna … blow it up or something!”

     X laughed as they landed in front of one of the many secret entrances to the batcave. She paused to let the scanner sweep over her, then strolled between the doors when they slid open. 

     “It’s not that, it’s just …” She turned around and walked backwards as she thought about it. “He just needs his space sometimes.” 

     She swivelled back around and continued walking over to the Batcomputer. “Plus, he can’t have you guys making him look soft in front of his henchmen.”

     “Who are we making look soft in front of their henchmen?” Nightwing asked, striding into the main hall from another passageway. He removed his Escrima Sticks from the back of his suit and placed them back in their holder.

     “Jason,” Stephanie replied, removing her mask and sinking into the empty seat beside Tim. 

     “Does anyone else think it’s weird that Jason has henchmen?” Tim asked, not turning away from the Batcomputer. Dick ignored Tim’s question, snorting in amusement at X’s suggestion. 

     “The only person capable of making Jason look soft …” He paused dramatically and turned around to face her before continuing, “is you.”

     X pulled an empty chair up to Steph and hopped onto it. She spun around as she considered Dick’s statement, letting her mind wander to her sweet and caring boyfriend. He was soft though, always surprising her with cute little dates and crafting the most thoughtful handmade gifts for her. And he’d pick her up after work every day so they could have dinner together and make sure to see each other at least once a day. Her features shifted into a dreamy expression and Stephanie grinned before snapping her fingers in front of her face.

     “X? You still with us, babe?”

     Dick laughed from his own seat as he lifted his legs onto the console. 

     “Her mind’s probably still with her boyfriend in that secret warehouse of his,” he pointed out, folding his arms across his chest and huffing in irritation at the thought of Jason’s warehouse that he refused to let any of them see. Well, any of them except for his little girlfriend that he was so obviously head over heels for.

     X shook her head, forcing herself back to reality, and flashed her friends a sheepish smile. “Sorry …”

     But none of them minded - not when she was so head over heels for their brother herself. X’s phone buzzed suddenly and she opened up the notification to find a text from Jason. Her eyes widened at whatever she saw on her phone and she shot out of her seat, this time with a guilty smile. “Uh, I’m gonna head home now. Night, guys! See you tomorrow!”

     She raced off without a word and the others exchanged knowing glances with one another. Dick dropped his hands and legs and rolled over to Stephanie. “Did you do it?” 

     Stephanie responded with a devious grin. 

     “Yup.” She turned to Tim and leaned over his shoulder. “Is it working?”

     Tim pulled up a map of Gotham with a single blinking light on it moving rapidly through the city, straight towards Jason’s apartment. “Yup.” 

     Jason sucked in a breath as the white-hot pleasure buzzed through his brain. “F*ck.”

     He closed his eyes as they rolled back in his head at the sound of his girlfriend’s adorable little mewls beneath him, then he slumped over and started trying to catch his breath. He chuckled softly at the sight of X doing the same, then he bit his lip as he ran his hand down her bare, sweat-slicked back. God, she was hot. He slid his hands along her sides, tracing the outlines of her curves, then he lay down on top of her, twisting his fingers between hers. He pressed a kiss to the base of her ear, then buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the sweet scent of her arousal. 

     “I love you too, sweetheart.” Jason lifted himself off of X, giving her the space to twist around and snuggle up against his chest instead. He brushed her hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek softly as he admired her glowing features. Shit, she was pretty. “But you’ve gotta stop breaking into my warehouse, babygirl.”

     “Mmm, shit,” he groaned, curling his fingers around hers. X shook her head as her mind went numb at the feeling of her large boyfriend’s warm body pressing against her. Then he began trailing his lips down the side of her neck and she hummed in contentment as his satisfied groans sank into her skin and danced along her bones.

“I love you, Jay.”

     X furrowed her brows, her lips instinctively twisting into a pout - she always felt like a spoiled little princess whenever he took that soft tone with her.

     “Why?” she whined, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body against his. Jason lowered his lips to her neck and slid his hand down to her ass. He moaned softly as he curled his fingers around her, squeezing her soft flesh like she was a little pillow, then he sighed and lifted his gaze back to hers.

“‘Cause you’re making me look bad, princess. My boys are gonna think that I can just fall for any pretty girl that walks into my warehouse.”

     X narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. “And how many ‘pretty girls’ are walking into your warehouse, Jay?”

     Jason shot her an amused look: she could get a little … ‘protective’ over him sometimes, glaring down any girl who even looked at him for a second longer than she deemed appropriate. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him or anything, she just … liked staking her claim over him. His stomach buzzed with excitement at having someone who thought him amazing enough to mark their territory on. 

     “Just one.” He slung his leg over hers, pulling her closer against him. “And she can be so frustratingly distracting.” His gaze fell to her lips and he brought his mouth closer to hers.

     “Makes it difficult to get any work done,” he mumbled before sliding his hand up the back of her neck and pulling her mouth to his.

     X glided her hands all over his body as they kissed, admiring how deliciously gorgeous her boyfriend was. She wriggled against him as he teased her tongue with his, kissing and stroking her until she was breathless and dizzy with lust. Jason pulled back and laughed at the unfocused look on his girlfriend’s face. 

     “Come on,” he told her, carefully helping her get off the bed. “You've got work tomorrow. Let's get you ready for bed.”

     “Ah! I'm so excited!” Spoiler squealed over the comms unit. “How should we enter? Should we jump in through a window? Or fly through the roof? Oh! Maybe we should just knock on the door?! They'll never be expecting that!” 

     Nightingale had gone dark a while back, but the tracker Stephanie had snuck into her suit had continued blinking steadily on the map Tim had gotten Dick to watch closely after his patrol had started. The three of them raced towards the docks now, eager to catch a glimpse of Jason's super secret, probably super cool warehouse that he'd kept hidden from them for so long. Finally, they landed on the rooftop of what appeared to be an empty warehouse, taking a moment to catch their breaths.

     “There's a skylight,” Dick pointed out, gesturing to the removable glass panel that sat a few feet away from them. 

     “Busting through the roof it is.” Stephanie grinned and followed Dick over to the skylight. He pried it open easily and soon, the three of them were standing in the middle of a darkened building, all of them on guard for any wary guards. And then, “Eugh! Sick! It smells like dead fish!” 

     “I thought it smelled like three dead rats,” a low male voice chuckled from the edge of the room. Stephanie furrowed her brows at the response.

     “Uh, no, that's definitely fish.” Then she realised who had spoken. She, Tim and Dick whirled around in horror, following the sound of the voice, and their panic increased tenfold when they saw the Red Hood walking towards them, a knowing smirk on his face. 

     “Hood!” Stephanie began, stumbling over her words as she tried to come up with a response. “W-We … We were just …”

     “We got a distress call!” Tim improvised quickly.

     “And we just wanted to make sure whoever it was was okay!” Dick finished, joining into the lie. The three of them nodded eagerly, suspiciously wide smiles stretched across each of their faces. Jason rolled his eyes.

     “Did you think I didn't vet anyone who comes into my warehouse?” he asked, arms folded across his chest. “Especially someone who is almost always in close contact with the biggest snakes this side of the world?”

     “In my defence,” Nightingale supplied, dropping down from the ceiling and landing behind them, “I thought they were my friends! But I guess you can only be betrayed by those you trust.”

     She gave an exaggerated sniff and moved to stand beside Jason, curling her arms around his bicep and leaning against him.

     “Technically, we weren't betraying you,” Tim argued, his tone matter-of-fact. “We were betraying the Red Hood. Although it's not like we have any alliances with him anyway.”

     “What? You need me to sign a contract or something?” Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes at the suggestion. 

     “I trust you, Hood,” Nightingale told him, fluttering her eyelashes up at him sweetly. “I know you'd never betray me.” 

     Her gaze turned dangerous then, her smile sharpening into one laced with threats as she waited for conformation that he'd never betray her. Jason grinned and lowered his head to hers.  

     “Of course, princess,” he murmured, his voice low enough so the others wouldn't hear him. X giggled softly and Jason’s smile widened. Then he straightened and rearranged his features into a threatening expression. “If any of you ever try to pull a stunt like this again, you'll be cleaning fish guts out of your suits for a month.” 

     Tim, Steph and Dick cringed at the very thought, the bile rising to their throat as they took in another whiff of the fishy air. 

     “Ugh! Fine! You win!” Tim surrendered on behalf of all of them. “We won’t try to find your stupid warehouse again.” 

     Jason smirked in victory and waited until the three of them had left the area. “I told you it’d take them less than ten minutes after you went dark to come after you.” 

     X slid her arms around his neck as Jason’s arms came around her waist. “Fine. You win. I won’t disturb you at your warehouse anymore. Well, for the next month, at least.” 

     Jason rolled his eyes, but continued to smile. “You know they’re still going to try again, right?” 

     X shrugged, unbothered. “Then I guess we’ll just have to get the fish ready.”

[skzdarlings]

birthday girl ; skz ; seungmin x reader

requested by anonymous: “You keep your hands where they are or I’ll tie them up” with Seungmin + requested by anonymous: ❛ i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making. ❜ is SO seungmin I can’t 😭 + requested by @sealovesbts : ❛ is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them? ❜ x Seungmin djjdjjdjd 🫣

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: friends to lovers. boy next door!seungmin, stripper!seungmin. reader is kinda vanilla but gets a couple kinks unlocked: stripping, some power play, seungmin giving orders and her following it, having sex in privacy but a public venue overall. word count: 4100 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

-

You open the door and jump, startled to find Seungmin already standing there with his hand raised to knock.  He also looks surprised but he doesn’t shriek like you do.  You were already jittery before the jump-scare.   

“Seungmin! Sorry!”  You put a hand over your heart.  “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I can see that.”  He speaks in his usual dry tone but smiles a lopsided smile. 

Kim Seungmin lives in your neighbourhood.  You have been amicable a long time so you like to consider him a friend as well.  He is an admittedly private person and his personality can be brash, but you find charm in his quirky cheekiness.  He is reliable whenever you need a hand.    

He is dressed in a hoodie and jeans which is not unusual; he is not very flashy.  His bangs sweep his forehead and he smiles a wide, boxy smile as he hands you a gift bag. 

“Happy birthday, neighbour,” he says. 

“Oh my goodness,” you say, flustered.  “Seungmin!  You didn’t have to!”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m the greatest,” he quips.   While you open the present, he asks, “I guess you’re going out?  You’re all dressed up.” 

“Oh, um, yes.”  You feel shy as he looks at you.

“You look good,” he says.

It makes you even more flustered.  You are dressed a little sleeker and sexier than usual.  Your sister has arranged your birthday party but you do not know where, only that she said to dress for fun.  You are not great with surprises and your sister is a little wild, hence your nerves, but you have decided to leave your comfort zone for one night. 

You were not expecting to run into your neighbour, friend, and crush. 

Because, yes, you like Seungmin.  A lot.  Seungmin is very modest, low-key, and hard-working.  You know he is at law school and works a few jobs to pay for it.  You are not sure where, but he is intelligent and you can imagine him doing anything.  His snark is amusing but his dependability and steadfastness is a sexy combination.  Your sister has never met him but has often teased you for your so-called boring infatuation, but you disregard the thought.  You like Seungmin, shaggy bangs and law school textbooks and all. 

A flirtation has been subtly brewing over the last few months.  You think the unexpected birthday gift is a step in that direction.  Especially when you unwrap a recipe book you off-handedly mentioned a few weeks ago, touched he remembered it at all. 

“Oh, thank you, Seungmin,” you say, gushing and sweet.  You go to hug him but falter nervously and end up giggling. 

He brushes some hair out of his eyes.  They seem to sparkle with mirth, or maybe you are just ridiculously head-over-heels. 

“You’re kinda goofy, you know that?” he says, but smiles.  “I like it.” 

“Oh gosh,” you say. 

It makes him laugh.  Then he says, “I’ll let you get to your party.” 

“Oh, it’s just my sister and some girl friends,” you say.  “I don’t even know where we’re going.  Probably just some food and stuff.  You know me.  I’m very simple.” 

“I do,” he says.  “I’d like to know you better, though.  Maybe you can make me one of those recipes some time.  I like the one on page fifteen.”

You burst out laughing at his audacity, making him laugh too.  His teasing successively obliterates your nerves.    

“I will,” you say, smiling so big.  “Page fifteen.  Noted.” 

“It’s a date,” he says.  “I’ll let you go now. Enjoy your birthday dinner.”

“You too,” you say, then realize that response made no sense so you stutter through a retraction.  You stop when he leans in and kisses your cheek, a quick peck that makes your eyes go wide. 

“Goofball,” he says and bops your nose while smiling.  “See you around, neighbour.”

“Bye, neighbour,” you say, giggling helplessly. 

He smiles as he walks away, hands in his pockets, and you are still hugging your book and smiling. 

-

The conversation with Seungmin is your last wholesome birthday moment.  You meet your sister and friends only to get whisked off to a placeof complete and utter depravity. 

Otherwise known as a club full of male strippers. 

You are sitting at a little table, astounded at the room around you.  You hold no judgements whatsoever, but between the flashing lights and loud music and, um, prominent bare chests and even more prominent bulges, you are sufficiently overawed. 

You cannot help but gawk, mouth open as you look around at everything.  It makes your sister and friends laugh.  It is not mean but they are undoubtedly amused.  Your shy character is the opposite of… this. 

“You guys are crazy,” you say, only making them erupt into more giggles. 

“You like logic and traditions so consider it a rite of passage, baby sister,” your sister says, slinging her arm around your shoulder and squeezing.  “Or, hm, an act of feminism!  It’s about equality.  We need to objectify and ogle the sexy men on behalf of womankind.”   

“How noble of us,” you say dryly, setting off another round of giggles.  You shake your head, smiling with amusement too.  You are a little embarrassed but it is quite funny, and there is a part of you enjoying something so opposite of your usual quiet scenes.  

Amusing is the best word for it, though.  None of the men are remotely your type and the relentless hip-thrusting is a bit much. You find yourself laughing into your drink and swaying to music as a few choreographed routines are performed.  Some of the more elaborate dances are entertaining. 

“The birthday girl likes a pretty boy,” your sister says, conspiring with your friends to find the perfect man to entertain you. 

“No, I don’t,” you say.  You roll your eyes and playfully shove her shoulder.   

“Well,” she says, “there are no boring lawyers on that stage, so a pretty face will have to suffice.” 

They proceed to point out a few of the prettier dancers while you shake your head.  You turn to watch the stage where a different set of men are in the middle of a routine.  There is a very rowdy bachelorette party in front of your table, occasionally blocking the view of one side of the stage.  You are sipping you drink when a few girls move, opening the view. 

You promptly spit your drink everywhere.  Your friends squeal while you choke and there is enough chaos at your table for one of the dancers to look directly at you. 

Not just any dancer.  

Kim Seungmin.

You have seen that face twice a day every day for months and you still barely recognize him.  It is no wonder that even a slightly obstructed view warped him entirely. 

Your modest, low-key friend is dazzling under the stage lights, face lightly made-up and his usual shaggy hair pushed back off his face.  Is it possible for a glimpse of forehead to so drastically change the composition of a familiar face?   He looks like a new man, his features striking on his bright, open face, all framed by neatly styled dark hair.  The familiar sparkle in his dark eyes is accentuated by the gleam of something shining around his neck.  Necklace? Choker? Collar?

He is in a white dress shirt and blue jeans, ripped at the knee, but everything about him seems illuminated.  He is the bold, blazoned fantasy version of the boy next door.  Very literally in your case, which is maybe why you think it, watching him cross the stage with more verve and confidence than you knew he possessed.  Your Seungmin walks in a casual shuffle, hands in his pockets.  He does not stride.

He certainly does not… gyrate.  Which is what he is doing when he catches your eye.  There is a moment of shared recognition and subsequent surprise, wide-eyed as you hold gazes across a noisy room.

Seungmin, a seemingly consummate professional, blinks the surprise off his face and goes back to his routine. 

You are not so practiced.  Your surprise stays plastered there, your mouth open and eyes wide as you stare at him.  The dance that seemed so exaggerated and ridiculous on the other performers is something else on Seungmin.  Maybe it is his character, the boy next door with his ripped jeans and smirking grin. Or maybe it is because he is your boy next door.

He is not ridiculous. Quite the opposite.  He makes it look natural, fluid and unhurried with the swivel of his hips and teasing grin.  He seems to somehow make eye contact with everyone in the room. 

You remind yourself that is his job when his eyes wander back to you.  It does not slow the race of your heart.

He sits on a chair and opens his shirt.  Some of the other dancers are more than half-naked, but he has a captive audience with the simplest action.  Keeping each step to the beat of the music, he reclines and undoes his belt, which makes your lips part. Then he lets his shirt drop down his arms and reveals his shoulders, which makes you gasp.  Then he cups a hand between his legs, curving his palm over the not-insubstantial bulge in his jeans.  Heat fills the core of you. 

He looks right at you with a tilt of his head and a lazy smile, the subtle sort of smirk that does not need to exaggerate.  He knows he has you. 

“Oh my god,” your friend says.  “Not birthday girl eye-fucking a stripper.”

“What!”  You rip your attention away all at once, flushed hot from head to toe.  “I am not!”

“Well, he was eye-fucking you.” 

You take a gigantic gulp of water, though it does not to quell the heat inside.  Until today, the most you dared to fantasize about Seungmin was a prolonged kiss on the porch.  Seungmin is polite.  He does not eye-fuck. 

Except you glance over the rim of your cup.  He is still looking at you.  It is not the way he looks at everyone else, who he skims with a cursory glance and flirtatious wink.  It is a lingering, penetrating stare, like he is calling you to him with his eyes alone. 

Oh. Gosh.  He is eye-fucking you. 

“I think,” your sister says, “we found a pretty boy for the birthday girl.” 

-

And that is how you find yourself sitting in a small private room, barely bigger than a coat closet and washed in a dark purple light.  You are perched on a plush little seat, holding your handbag so tightly your knuckles start to hurt.  You let go and clear your throat, embarrassed even though you are alone.  You place the bag on the floor and smooth your hands down the skirt of your dress.

You squeak like a frightened little mouse, jumping when Kim Seungmin startles you for the third time tonight.  Once on your doorstep.  Once on stage.  And now in this little room, silhouetted by the hall lights until he closes the divider.  He is still in his ripped jeans and dress shirt, neatly buttoned and composed again. 

He runs a hand through his hair which makes your heart skip beats.  You feel a little preposterous, scandalized by a forehead, but it makes his gaze so direct.  You melt under the intensity of his stare. 

“I hear it’s your birthday,” he says. 

You imagine yourself as a stranger to him, the same line recited with the same confidence.  For some reason, it is just as tantalizing.  You like abrasive, quirky law student Kim Seungmin in his hoodie and jeans.  But you find yourself irrevocably spellbound by this other version of him, who is so seductive it has women drawing money out of their purses. 

“Yes,” is what you say, instead of all that. 

He tilts his head, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.  He is always clever but his open face makes his scrutiny more apparent.  You swallow when he approaches, when he sinks down on one knee while holding your gaze in thrall. 

“Breathe,” he says.  “That’s not a request.”  He rests his hands on the seat, framing your body between them.  He does not touch you.  He does not need to.  Your breath spills free in a rush and he smirks.  “Good.  All right.  So… neighbour… Should we talk?” 

You think a thousand thoughts.  Yes, a conversation.  No, your friends paid for this room.  They think you will get a lap dance or something, then return quickly.  You want to ask when he is free for dinner.  You want to ask how long he has worked here.  You want to know him.  You really, really want to kiss him. 

You say instead, “I’ve never done this sort of thing before.” 

He looks at you for another moment, still studious.  You swallow again.  Then he smiles that dastardly grin, wide and a little mean. 

“And you want to?” he asks.  “Do this sort of thing?” 

“Only if it’s you,” you say, then avert your gaze out of embarrassment.  Maybe that was too much cringe-worthy honesty. 

He touches your chin, drawing your gaze back to him.  You blink at him, helpless but to study his face in turn.  He was always decently good-looking but he is driving you to complete distraction.  You find yourself staring at his lips well before he starts speaking. 

“I think you have more depth than either of us know, don’t you?” he asks. 

“Maybe,” you say, laughing a little.  You look at him with wide, earnest eyes.  “Don’t we all?” 

He touches his tongue to his upper lip, looking thoughtful but undoubtedly smiling.  Then he smacks his lips and nods, his hair bouncing.

“Right,” he says.  “In that case, birthday girl…”

He stands and your eyes follow.  He holds your gaze until he starts unbuttoning his shirt, then your eyes drop to his hands, the deft flick of his fingers as they crawl down his chest. 

A professional, you think.  It gets you undeniably hot.  You meet his eyes again when he tugs his shirt off and drops it behind him.  He is more slender than chiseled, especially compared to some of the other dancers, but there is a firmness to his body, a control he has mastered.  

He grabs a bar above your head that you did not even notice, using it to lift and lower himself over you.  He lands in a smooth straddle with his knees cradling you under him. 

You sit back, breathing harder already.  Then he takes your hands and lifts them over your head, making your fingers twitch with anticipation.  You are still fully clothed but your dress is sleeveless and low-cut and this feels like a vulnerable position, arms raised with a half-naked Kim Seungmin straddling your body. 

He curls your fingers around the bar then drags his knuckle down the bare skin of your arms, making you shiver despite the packed heat of this little room. 

“You keep your hands where they are,” he says, “or I’ll tie them up.”   

You nod a little frantically and it makes him laugh.  Then he is leaning back just enough to rock his body over yours, bringing your attention to every flawless plane of his body as he moves on you.  He touches you sparingly, making you watch, making you wonder.  Looking and fantasizing about what his hips can really do, what strength is hidden in the body he has mastered.  He follows the low music, ever deep thrum of a bass, every heart-pounding beat. 

He brings his face close to yours, so close your lips almost touch.  It steals your breath like a real kiss would. 

“I’m going to touch you,” he says.  “Be good for me, birthday girl. Maybe there’s a present in it for you.  Only if I like you.” 

You cannot find any witty quips to return.  He is definitely the experienced one, as effortless with his words as with everything else.  You can only gawk at him as he slides smoothly off.  Then his hands are on your legs, making them quiver, your body startled with the direct touch despite the warning. 

Your skirt gathers just a bit, his hands curling under your knees.  Then he is spreading your legs, not enough to see anything but enough you feel the empty space between them.  Oh yes, emptier than you have ever felt.  You are surprised by the way you clench, your body aching for more.  He only teases, makes you feel that emptiness and picture every what if.  He helps you with your fantasy, pushing your legs back like he would if he was fucking you deep, rolling his hips so close to yours in mimicry. 

“Oh,” is the only sound you make.   Your breathing is very loud.  It says a lot on its own. 

He is breathing a little harder too.  He is still between your legs when he starts unbuttoning his jeans.  He shuffles them down his hips but not all the way off.  You can see he is wearing nothing underneath, the denim itself a suddenly tantalizing piece, slung low on his hips with the subtle sloping v of his body drawing your gaze to his middle. 

“I don’t usually go further than this, you know,” he says.  He slowly pushes the next button loose and you can feel the rush of heat from your belly swoop lower.  His bulge looks obscene at this vantage, pushing at what little remains of the denim around it.  “But I think I like you, birthday girl.”  He opens another button.  “I think I can make an exception.”  He pushes the last button then grasps his jeans at the hips, grinning as he says, “Our secret.” 

Secret, illicit, that’s what this feels like, looking at the gorgeous man you have been pining after, watching as he pushes his jeans down his hips and thighs.  You are tucked in a small room not far away from a rowdy crowd, Kim Seungmin dropping the last of his clothes then continuing his slow and sensual movements. 

You feel dizzy, your arms shaking.  You close your mouth when you literally salivate, because his dick is right there, hard and curving up in front of you as he moves with skilled ease.  You giggle a little nervously when he notices and swipes a thumb across your lips.   Then he reaches up, curling his hands over yours on the bar as he leans in close to your face. 

“You wanna touch me?” he asks, palms over your knuckles.  You nod frantically and he grins that mean smile, tilting his head as he looks down at you.  “What will you give me for it?” 

“Anything,” you say.  “You can do anything to me.  You can have all of me.” 

It occurs only seconds later he might mean money, but he just laughs, that familiar ha-ha-ha you have heard a dozen times before. 

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he teases.  “By fucking your way out of them?” 

“You’re so mean,” you say with a helpless pout. 

“Yeah,” he says, brushing his nose with yours.  “I am.  I could be worse, but it’s your birthday.”  He takes your hands and lowers them, guiding them to his shoulders.   

You touch him carefully, as if he is fragile, or like he could disappear beneath your fingertips.  This moment hardly seems real, ethereal and bright, all neon and purple haze. This is not like you and that is thrilling.  This is all new, but he is also familiar.  You are enjoying this, him, you together.  

You touch him slowly, with intention, just the gentlest caress across his bare shoulders.  It wipes his grin, makes his breathing get all slow like he is savouring it too.  He looks at you with more intensity. 

“You said I can anything?” he asks. 

A nod is all it takes, then he is sinking to his knees.  He pushes back a few loose strands of his hair, then his hands are under your knees and he is pulling you to the edge of your seat.  You make a little noise of surprise, clutching his shoulders until he manoeuvres you.  Then it is your legs on his shoulders and he is running his tongue along your inner thigh. 

“Seungmin,” you say, breathlessly.

“Shh, shh,” he says.  “Our secret, remember?” 

Then he is tugging your now wet panties to the side, his mouth on you in a ravenous motion.  You cover your mouth to try and stifle most of your moaning, but you cannot help the few sounds that escape, especially as he takes you closer and closer to a climax.  He surfaces, still using his hand to get you close, his lips wet and eyes searching.  He smirks, sliding two fingers into you while rolling his thumb across that distended bundle of nerves. 

“That’s not quiet, birthday girl,” he says.  “Don’t make me gag you.” 

“I’m quiet,” is your rasping reply.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asks, fucking his fingers roughly through all the wet desire between your thighs, making you shake.  “I can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making,” he says.  “It almost sounds like you’re about to come for me.  That’s pretty dirty.  What would everyone out there say?” 

Shocked.  They would be shocked if they even believed it.  You would not have believed it of yourself a few hours ago.  But now you are coming all over his face and hand and it is still not enough.  You have never begged for anything but the words are on your lips, your mouth open and eyes wide as you stare at him. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, fingers swirling at your entrance.  He pushes in and out, just his fingertips, tormenting you.  “That just made you needier, didn’t it?  Tsk.” He sighs dramatically.  “I don’t usually offer that.  It’ll cost you.” 

“I’ll cook the recipe on page sixteen too,” you say, making him laugh naturally again. 

“What a bargain,” he says.  He grabs his jeans and fishes a condom out of the back pocket.  He even seems to make a show of that.  He puts it on and fists his cock for you, standing above you while you catch your breath.  When you reach for him, he grabs your wrists and yanks you up.  He is effortless and quick, as always, spinning you around and pressing your hands to the back of the seat. 

“You know the rules,” he says.  “Hands there or I tie them up.  That’s my girl.”

You follow his directions and bend over, feeling utterly debauched before he is even inside you.  He lifts your skirt and tugs your panties aside again.  You are fully dressed and he is completely naked, but you somehow feel more exposed, more vulnerable in his confident hands.  He holds your hips and eases inside you, inch by solid inch until he is pressed up against your backside, buried to the hilt. 

“That’s it,” he says, tone still cocky though it soon gives way to panting.  He makes a few rough sounds of his own, fucking you quick and dirty in this small room.  You are going to walk out of here smelling and looking like sex itself, dishevelled and shaky and well-fucked.  Practically a new woman, one you are eager to know, containing as many contradictory dualities as Seungmin. 

Seungmin, your goofy friend, who throws his head back as he drives into you again and again, shushing you when you get too loud.  He muffles his own cry in your shoulder when he comes, still rocking against you for a moment after that. 

“Fuck,” you say, dropping onto the seat after.  He is tugging his jeans back on, though his eyes are on you.  It is a scrutinous stare again.  You undoubtedly have questions for each other.   For now, you just smile, taking another shuddery breath as you come down from your high.   “Well,” you say.  “That might have been worth page seventeen too.” 

His gaze softens, the corner of his eyes crinkling with his smile.  He leans over you, brushes his nose against yours, and finally kisses you.  It is the soft, tender kiss you dreamed about so long ago.  It leaves you as breathless as everything else. 

“All right, neighbour,” he says, “it’s a date.” 

[orikixx]

Wrong Number, Right Recipe (8/?)

Pt. 8

Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Featuring: Satoru Gojo

Warnings: smutty, reader is afab, wc- 1.5k

Summary: strangers to friends to lovers! An accidental text from the wrong number leads to the meeting of you and satoru gojo, a baker from the pastry shop down the street of your office.

Author’s note: hi guys! I hope this is alright, I haven’t actually written anything down in so long so I kinda struggled with this😓 next part will be a smau, and hopefully part 11 will finish the series as another written down version. Hope you guys like it nonetheless! 💕

Saturday, 10:23

You’re currently seated atop of satoru’s kitchen counter, patiently waiting for him to finish cutting up some fresh fruits to go with the breakfast you’ve brought. He insisted that you stay with him all day, selling it off as a way to help you get back on your feet, and you aren’t complaining.

The memories of the previous night were flooding satoru’s mind. That must be the reason he’s got his torso pressed up again the kitchen counter, trying to calm down his raging boner as you sit there, looking at him all wide eyed and sweet. He can’t stop thinking about you, the way your supple ass brushed against him as you cuddled while watching some movie, making him almost combust right on the spot.

He’s gripping that poor kiwi way too tightly for his own liking, the fruit almost exploding under his hold.

“Is there something wrong satoru?” Your voice brings him out of his daze, and he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. Satoru shakes his head, trying to play it off cool as he gives you a casual smile. He finishes plating up the fruits, and you two sit down and eat the warm pastries and his wobbly-looking cut up kiwis and strawberries.

“I had this thought, you know?” You say teasingly, taking a bite of your croissant as satoru looks at you patiently. “What if.. I got a matching sonic onesie? I mean, a matching one, like knuckles or shadow..” the words spill out of your mouth, nervously rambling on and on. There’s very visible blush creeping up your cheeks, surprisingly embarrassed over such a simple interaction with your friend.

Satoru bursts out laughing, almost spitting out everything that’s in his mouth. “You’re so ridiculous” is what you expected him to say, only he didn’t. He pulled out his phone, and told you to order it using his card. You stared at him, shock written all over your face.

“Wait, are you serious?” “Yeah, why not? It’ll be hilarious,” satoru said with a grin, pushing his phone toward you. “Just pick one. It’s no big deal.” You sigh, eventually giving in and taking his phone. You lean over the table to show satoru the various options, yet all he’s capable of noticing is how perfectly your tits are squeezed against the wooden surface, and how close your face is to his as your fingers excitedly tap his phone.

His stare must’ve been too obvious, since you put his phone down, yet your face remain close to his as you examine him. Satoru almost gasps when your finger comes up to his cheek, gently wiping off a lingering chocolate smear. He thinks he might pass out, his face must be so red as he’s eye to eye with you, and you give him a soft smile when you’re satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned him up.

Satoru currently stares at you like some idiot, open mouthed and not a single thought behind his eyes as you gently clean him. Your mind however, is buzzing with excitement. He smells so good up close, although just getting out of bed. He smells like cedar wood and vanilla, making you stall for a moment longer than necessary.

In that second, satoru feels his resolve melting away, and he can’t help himself but kiss you. It’s sudden and uncomfortable, leaning over the table, but it’s also so warm and comforting, his lips fitting perfectly against yours. You gasp, and he realizes what he’s done. Leaning back, satoru feels his ears burning in embarrassment, blush creeping up his neck. “I’m so sorry oh my gosh, I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what came ov-“ and your lips are smashing against his again.

This time, he’s the one to gasp into the kiss, but he quickly leans into it. Satoru brings his hand to cup your cheek, and he breaks the kiss when you lean into his touch. “fuck YEAH”, he yells out, his heart almost exploding out of his chest. You’re panting, cheeks dusted pink, and the only sound you can hear is the thrumming of your heart in your chest.

Satoru stands up and quickly circles the table, easily picking you up in his arms as you squeal. “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long, you have no idea y/n,” “let me down!” “Not until I get another kiss”. You pout, and oh so reluctantly wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him again. Once he’s satisfied, he gently lets you back down onto the floor.

“Now that we’ve established that, are you finally going to order your onesie? My wallet is aching for you,” satoru says teasingly as he starts washing the dishes the both of you have used. You sigh and pick his phone back up, ordering yourself a matching shadow onesie.

It’s noon now, and you’re back in your pjs sprawled out on satoru’s couch. He sits beside you, gently stroking your hair as your head rests at his lap. “Satoru,” you mumble, eyes closed as you feel tiredness washing over you. “Yes sweets?” He answers, and you feel your lips curling up in a small smile at the nickname. “Can I get a kiss?” You almost whisper, too embarrassed to even look up at him. “Can’t hear you, pretty girl.” “I said, can I get a kiss?” You ask louder now, desperate, almost whining.

“Toru!” you yelp out, your heart skipping a bit as he easily repositions you, so now you’re straddling his lap. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your ears burning in embarrassment at how easily he can handle you. “Wanted a kiss, didn’t you?” He asks rather rhetorically, his hands resting at your hips, grounding you down onto his torso. “Don’t be so shy around me y/n, I know you must’ve been dreaming about this just as much as I did”, he says teasingly, one of his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to stroke the bare skin. You scoff, yet finally kiss him. Your hands are cupping his cheeks, trying to pull him impossibly closer as his tongue enters your mouth.

You gasp, hands immediately finding purchase in his hair, tugging on the soft locks. Satoru moans into the kiss, his hands moving to squeeze your ass while he desperately grinds his growing erection into you. You quickly break the kiss, gasping for air, yet satoru won’t stop slowly grinding his hips against yours. His forehead is resting against your shoulder, and you let out a soft mewl when his erection rubs against your clit, the thin fabric of your shorts doing absolutely nothing to stop the friction.

“You’re driving me crazy y/n, you- fuck, you look so heavenly like this, just begging for me to worship you” satoru whimpers into your shoulder, his lips kissing a trail up to your neck. “T-toru!” You moan softly, fingers tugging on the white strands as he sucks that sweet spot on your neck, simultaneously thrusting up against you. You can feel the wetness soaking through your flimsy shorts, probably leaving a stain on his gray sweats. Suddenly his lips aren’t at your neck anymore, his head leaning back, resting against the couch as he breathes heavily.

“Are you sure you want to do this right now? You haven’t even slept all night”, satoru says worriedly. You can spot the genuine care in his eyes, yet his tone is so whiny, he’s actually so desperate for you and he can’t even hide it. You simply sit there for a moment, dumbfounded, until finally the adrenaline wears off, and the earlier wave of tiredness washes over you again. You groan and wiggle in his grip, until his stubborn hands finally let go of your ass. You stand up and reach out to him, offering him your hand so he can join you in bed.

He groans as well, taking your hand in his as he gets up. Satoru quickly rushes you to bed, pulling the covers on top of both of you. His long limbs wrap around you, not leaving you any space, but you’re okay with that, smiling and humming happily as he buries his face in your hair and sighs. Finally, the both of you can rest comfortably, or at least until your onesie arrives.

Divider credit: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Taglist: @thulhu @heiejdhdh @needtoloveoutloud @jurrasicpork @sorenflyinn @twinkling-moonlillie @realalpacorn @lastbreathtaken @zayuriluvs @logoleptic-since-06 @whore4dilfs0 @whozeurdaddy @fhfnejd @maddietries @s4ikooo1 @des-todoroki

[purinfelix]

this is similar to one of your gavi blurbs but i feel like joao felix would have a million of your lip products around him and he doesn’t mind it one bit it’s in his car, room, bathroom all over his house and fans would catch on when they take pictures with him in his car and they just notice a pink lip gloss in his cup holder or on the passenger seat of his car

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

a/n: omfg this is such a cute idea anon !!! ur mind <333

"Oh my gosh," your boyfriend whipped his head around at your gasp, "look at this."

You turned your phone to show him a recent post of him driving to and from training that morning, and his brows furrowed as he tried to understand what exactly you were showing him. It wasn't until the video paused and zoomed into the cupholders of his car that he got it.

"Those are yours!" he laughed, nodding to the several lip glosses the video pointed out.

"Well, no duh of course they're mine," you sighed, "I totally forgot to take them out the last time you dropped me off!" You were surprised he wasn't as worried about this as you were, considering that your relationship wasn't yet public.

"Don't worry about it baby, let them theorise, it's fun," he shrugged nonchalantly. A silence filled the room as he sunk down onto your bed beside you, noticing the worry still remaining on your face. "If you're that worried about it, we'll just have to remember to take them out next time, hm?"

You knew you were being slightly ridiculous but his soft tone and hand moving to intertwine with yours brought a level of comfort that settled your nerves. Nodding, you gave him a soft smile.

"To be honest, I'm surprised it took them this long to spot one, I swear you leave those things everywhere," your boyfriend sighed snarkily, earning a punch in the arm from you.

[joonieskinks]

biker!simon riley x professor!reader

warning: swearing, seggsual tensionnnn

-

You met when you were running late to your next lecture across campus. You decided to take a short run in the rain outside rather than take longer inside going through the connected buildings.

A mixture of your hair in front of your face and trying to keep your papers from falling out your hands, he was this close to running you over.

“Fuck me!” You screech out just before the bike tire could meet your legs, halting suddenly. You whip your hair out of your face and eyes meet a black helmet, a void glaring back in your direction. Quite a bike for a big man, a man who is covered in tattoos. If you weren’t so pissed off, you’d probably think his physique attractive.

“My God, you almost hit me!”

“‘Yer the one who dashed out ‘nto the road, love.” He states cooly, completely unmoving.

“Just- watch where you’re going, okay?.” You scoff, tidying your blazer before you started walking away.

“Right back at you, sweetheart.” The biker mumbles, but you hear him loud and clear. You toss an annoyed look over your shoulder, and he revs away after eying you up and down.

/

The second time you met was on your way home at a bus stop on campus. You were waiting on the sidewalk, which just so happened to be next to a set of lights.

Lucky you, looking up from your phone at just the right time to stare right at the black helmet of the man on the motorcycle, stopped at a red, looking right back at you.

The begrudgingly hot guy from before. Of course. You struggle to not roll your eyes.

“‘Thought you profs made at least ‘nough to ‘fford a car.” He yells a bit over the sounds of traffic.

This time you really do roll them.

“I’m not far from here, I don’t need a car.” You state, going to look back at your phone.

He takes off his helmet and suddenly his voice is so much clearer.

“‘Then lemme take you home.”

Your head shoots up and you’re met with the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen with the prettiest eyes. And naturally, he’s smirking. You can tell he likes the effect he so clearly has on you. It’s ridiculous that you’re reduced to a nervous mess just like that.

“Wha-?” You start, but he quickly hurries you.

“Well come on then, we gotta go.” He tilts his head back to the traffic waiting behind him as the light turns green.

You don’t even think twice, just hop on the back of this man’s bike, holding against him so tight with your legs wrapped around him. You can smell him, he’s so warm and firm under your touch, you wonder what he would feel like without all his layers. It sends shivers down your back and makes your thighs clench at the thought.

“I felt that.” He chuckles a bit and you can feel a deep blush setting in.

“Hold on,” he quickly outs his helmet but on and revs off. The quick motion forces you to grip him tighter, a small yelp leaving your lips.

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, why the heck did you do this, you don’t even know this man! He could be a serial killer for all you knew and here you are rubbing up against him for crying out loud.

“Hey, you gotta focus, love. Gotta tell me where to go.” He yells over the wind, his hand coming to rest on one of your own to help get your attention. You hesitate to respond and he picks up on it rather quickly, slowing down a bit so you can hear him.

“‘Names’ Simon Riley,” he starts. “I work with the army on the base just outside of town, I drive around to clear m’head.”

He hesitates briefly before finishing.

“I’ve never done anything like this before. Just liked you when I saw you in the rain.” Simon finishes and you’re feeling that warm stir in your chest. It was clear he was trying to make you feel more comfortable, more at ease. It was sweet and for you, it went a long way. You tightened your grip on him, almost as if you were hugging him as a thank you.

“More like when you almost hit me.” You quip back and Simon laughs again, the vibrations coursing through you.

You tell him your name, what you teach and finally the directions to your place. You two laugh about it being in the complete other direction he’s been driving, but Simon just smiles about it. He finds you oddly charming, you’re incredibly intriguing to him, endearing already just from a few exchanged sentences.

Then he says something about how he gets to spend more time with you this way. It makes you bite back a smile and blush, you’re just glad he can’t turn around and see it right now.

When you arrive at your place, a part of you hesitates to get off of his bike, you don’t quite want to leave his presence yet. He feels too good, smells too good, a perfect little moment, a rush of excitement. Simon feels it too, that’s why he helps you off his bike, reaching out for you to take his hand. Any excuse to touch you after all, he doesn’t wanna let go either.

His hand in yours feels so good, something so simple and minimal, but he can’t help but want more. Still, he’s a gentleman, he won’t overstep and scare you off. You’re too much of a catch in his eyes to get ahead of himself.

Once you’re settled back onto the pavement, you hesitate to let go, fingers brushing his hand before you reluctantly let go. You smile at the ground, desperately trying to compose yourself, and he does the same, removing his helmet and fiddling with it.

“Can I-“

“Would you-“

You both start at the same time, laughing it off. You look back into his eyes and it takes everything in him not to look away in embarrassment. You’re just too pretty for him, he’d stare for hours otherwise.

“Simon,” you start sincerely. “Would you like to go and get dinner sometime?” Playing with your fingers nervously. Your heart was in your throat, you don’t usually do anything like this ever and-

“Pick you up tomorrow at 6? I’ll bring my spare helmet for ya next time.”

You nod as controlled as you can, not wanting to seem too too eager…

(Simon doesn’t have a spare helmet, he’s actually gonna go out and buy one tonight just for you, but you don’t need to know that yet.)

You go to tuck a stray hair behind your ear but miss, it falling back in your face. He notices and steps forward to tuck it for you. Again, any excuse to touch you. It’s nice to be this close to Simon again, you can smell him and it makes you feel dizzy.

“I’d love that.” You reply and he holds your cheek for a brief second, then he lets go. The smallest gesture from him already getting you to clench your thighs again.

You’re fucking hooped.

Simon boldly comes forward once more to whisper in your ear-

“Saw that, princess.”

He kisses your cheek softly, then moves to put his helmet back on and starts his bike back up.

“See you tomorrow then.”

And just like that, he’s gone. Leaving you alone on the street, a blushing mess. Left with an ache to see him again already and a wetness between your thighs.

No, you’re fucking fucked.

[leeknowlover99]

Heey, could you write skz reaction to showing off your nails on their pants (rubbing their bulge) trend? Thank you 🩷

hi sure, hope you enjoy ;)

masterlist

warnings: suggestive content

Chan

he would be so eager to do it yet get very shy about it. he would want to find the perfect sweats and spot where the lighting would be the best. when you hushed him and he accepted that whenever is fine he would get very nervous. “y/n” he would whine. “can we kiss for a bit first.” you laughed at him warmly loving how cute he is and climbed on his lap to make out. after couple minutes of steamy kisses and grinding you felt his dick get fully hard. “now we’ll be good” you cheerfully stated hopping off him and pulling out your phone. chan’s cheeks got super red when you rubbed him while showing off your nails to the camera. after you shoot few videos and were satisfied with the result he would pull you on his lap again. “let’s finish what we started now huh?”

Minho

“what kind of ridiculous trend is that” was your boyfriend’s reaction when you mentioned it to him after getting your nails done. “normal trend, don’t make a fuss” you poked your tongue at him. “please can we do it?” you looked at him with your best attempt of doe eyes. he chuckled clearly amused by you. “but that’s weird” he dismissed you again and started to walk away. you run after him and grabbed his arm. “pretty please” that was your last attempt. Minho did not say anything, just sat on the sofa manspreading and smirking at you. “come on then” his gaze darkened. you became unsure after his sudden demeanor change. “what, are you shy now baby?” he teased. “come here and touch me.”

Changbin

he would be totally chill about it. “ yeah sure. do you want to do it now? i have my sweats on” he answered calmly, not a sight of emotion on his face. he surprised you but you quickly rushed to do it since he agreed. “yes, can you sit here?” you pointed at the chair next to the window where lighting would be good. he followed your instructions and sat down. you crouched beside him and pulled out your phone to start recording. first you tested the angle, rubbing him lightly to get him hard. “can you spread your legs a bit?” you asked. Changbin smirked at you. “are you having fun?” you asked. “oh i’m definitely enjoying myself princess”

Hyunjin

“no baby, no way.” he immediately protested. “why not?”you asked. you kind of expected that answer and didn’t want to push him. “it’s just weird and awkward, i don’t think i would feel good about it.” you nodded a bit sad but respecting his choice. he must’ve seen that because he immediately wanted to cheer you up. “besides you know that if you wanted to touch my dick so bad you could’ve just asked love” he muttered pulling you on his lap. you blushed but did not have any time to respond as he pulled you in for the kiss. it was sweet and soft at first but quickly became heated. you were messily making out, hands exploring each other bodies and hips grinding. Hyunjin broke the kiss and looked at you panting “you know what? fuck it. let’s do the trend.”

Felix

“oh my gosh! i wanted to ask you about that trend but didn’t think you would like it!” he exclaimed after you asked. your boyfriend was always up to date with tik tok trends. “do you want to do that now? i’m ready!” he winked at you, excitement lighting up his face. “maybe next week after i get my nails done again. now they aren’t looking as good anymore.” you proposed and saw him start sulking immediately. “ahhh a week is such a long time.” he pulled you into the hug and looked at you with doe eyes. how could you resist him. “okay fine. i guess we can do it twice.” you laughed and kissed him.

Jisung

his eyes widened when you asked him. he looked at you innocently. “so you want to show your nails by touching me?” he seemed confused. you showed him few videos and he got the point. “okay. we can do it if you want.” he agreed. you kissed him softly “thank youuu.” “but i’m not sure if it will come good, i don’t know, i’m kinda shy.” he giggled ears a bit red when he sat on your bed and you started touching him. “just relax jagi, it looks great.” you reassured him while filming watching him get frustrated and hard by your slightest touch. so cute.

Seungmin

“are you crazy? no way.” he cut you off immediately. “but baby, why not?” you sulked, you really wanted to film that trend. “that’s cringe. and what if my mum sees that?” he made a good point. “fine. we can just post it on the anonymous account.” you proposed. by the look on his face you already knew the answer. “still a no. what if someone still recognizes us?” he asked. “but why would someone recognize your dick?” you responded annoyed. “well i was thinking about recognizing your nails not my dick dummy” he teased you. you laughed with him. “come here i know plenty more fun stuff we can do” he smiled at you smugly.

Jeongin

“fuck that’s so hot” he said with the little blush on his cheeks after you showed him few videos of people doing the trend. “do want to do it?” you asked sweetly. “hell yes” he seemed even more eager than you. “come kiss me for a while so i get hard” he invited you on his lap. you kissed him passionately, his tongue immediately finding yours. kiss got very heated fast. jeongin was sucking on your neck and you were palming him through his pants. “bed now” he muttered against your neck clearly aroused. “but what about the video babe?” you brought him back to reality. “we’ll shoot that later, don’t worry.”

[revelboo]

Oh my gosh, The “Everything is Alright” drama just slowly ripling outward is so so juicy. Devouring this! Ur writing is so good. Every fic being gently connected is so fun. TY for the food!

I’m glad you enjoy my nonsense!

The pointy cryptid arrived!

Everything Is Alright Pt 121

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Watching Soundwave inspect your soft hands, turning them over in his and rumbling unhappily at the sight of your bleeding knuckles where you’d lashed out at Starscream, Megatron lays back on the berth. Unable to watch those two fussing over you, unable to deal with the problem of your lifespan along with your sparkling. And someone has to be full size and ready to defend their family. That thought catching him off guard. Is that what they are now? Fragged over by the universe into the most dysfunctional family ever. “Someone needs to teach you how to throw a punch,” he mutters. “You’re awful at it.”

• Almost laughing despite yourself, you hate that you want to relent. To bury your face against Starscream and soak in the warmth and familiarity of him. But know it’s a trap. “I can’t do this again. I won’t.” Glancing at Megatron, you tug your hand from Soundwave. Why can’t this be simple? Because you’re greedy and want more than you should. Because something is wrong with you and you can’t decide. “No more lying. No more plots.” No more not taking your voice into account. “Please.”

• Grimacing, Starscream’s aware of Megatron sprawled on his back, head turned to watch them. Watching him. And you’re asking him to stop trying to seize control, to ignore all the wrongs, the mistakes. The pain. Hand cupping your cheek, he ignores Megatron and Soundwave. Aware suddenly that you’ve given him the ultimate immunity against Megatron by fully bonding the warlord. You’d protected him for life from Megatron’s rage. “I only look to the future.” Sees you frown and nudges you with his head. “Our future. Together.” Knows he’s neglected you, focused on protecting you without stopping to even ask if you wanted to be protected, but he couldn’t risk losing you. Still can’t.

• Still upset, but your mind is calming as his servos curl around your upper arm, finding skin to strengthen the connection. Megatron had told him to bond to you again, but he can’t. Not when you’re still off kilter and unsure of everything. Hurting. Doesn’t want to take this time, wants you to reach out to him. “I don’t know if I can trust you. Any of you,” you mumble and his spark constricts. Because he’s had as much a part to play in this as the other two. He’d tried to manipulate you and Megatron, had done it to protect you, but had never thought about what you’d actually wanted. Though, apparently you had wanted Megatron. More than him. He’s trying so hard to not think about the fact that you held back with him, but submitted completely to Megatron. Wanting to believe that it hadn’t been you, that you’d unconsciously been offered a chance to survive and has seized it without being aware what you were doing. But it still hurts.

• “Trust is earned,” Megatron growls, servos pressing against his own chassis over his spark. Can barely sense that weak spark nestled inside him, that impossible life a way forward. How long has it been since there’s been a new generation? Well before the war began. Wants to hang on to that anger at what you’d done to him, about the inevitable complications and questions it’s going to cause, because at some point the spark will need to be transferred to a protoform. And that’s going to be noticed. And a sparkling will be even more helpless than you are. Staring at you rubbing your eyes, his spark constricts. Because you’re a problem. Vulnerable, helpless, and his life is dependent on yours. On no one figuring out that he’s fully bonded to you and deciding to take him out by killing one ridiculously fragile human. “I don’t see that we have much choice but to work together. Because anyone gunning for me will target our helpless little mate.”

• Mate not pet. You feel Starscream stiffen against you and you don’t know if it’s that he doesn’t want to get along with Megatron or even try or if he’s just now realizing that you’re going to be a target. It’s definitely not something you’d considered. But it really shouldn’t surprise you, because of course things can get worse.

Previous

Next

[meowzfordayz]

when you grab their chest — akaza, douma, muzan, kyojuro, giyuu, tengen

Author’s Note: pardon the ridiculously long title. 🥴😂 “Fem!Reader” applies to Tengen only.

when you grab their chest — akaza, douma, muzan, kyojuro, giyuu, tengen

Akaza x Reader, Douma x Reader, Muzan x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader, Uzui Tengen x Reader

Word Count: ~900

CW: dark humor, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Suggestion Fulfilled: I have a request😤 I recently read a certain ass slapping fic which I adored could you do a similar fic with the same characters +giyu and Douma with the reader coming up from behind the and squeezing their man tiddies

~faqs~

I 100% would’ve used MAN TIDDIES in my title, but figured Tumblr would hide this post from tags if I did, so I went w/ “chest” instead 😆

Also, some of these are canon compliant — Muzan, Kyojuro, Giyuu

While others are set in modern au (alternate universe; modern setting) — Akaza, Douma, Tengen

AKAZA

Immediately tenses

#noice 😌😎 after all, the man is ripped

The more Akaza tenses, the more you wanna squish

Except, it’s kinda hard to squish pure, flexed muscle ?? 😔

“Akaza, my love, could you relax?” 🥺

He’s still confused, but my love automatically has him at your beck and call, so-

He relaxes

*gleeful squeal* 😍 *squish squish* 😍

Aaand he’s tensed again

If you actually take the time to explain yourself, then he’ll be absolutely embarrassed flattered

Lowkey decides to do an extra 100 push ups daily, just bc he’s so darn in love w/ you 😭

DOUMA

Douma’s been waiting all his life for you to grab his moobs

So like

He’s one happy camper !!!!! 😌🥳

“all his life” = since he met you

As for “moobs”? I had to, just once 😃

Slowly flexes them so he can hear your amazed gasp 😍

“Are you drooling?” he smirks

“Fuck off,” you scowl

You try to withdraw your hands to wipe away your incriminating drool 😒🤤

But he doesn’t let you 🤪

He squeezes your wrists, grinning widely to himself, “Don’t leave me.” 😇

“But I’m done,” you grumble, resting your forehead between his shoulder blades (you’ve already accepted your fate 🤠)

“I’m not,” he retorts, “Not even close.” 🤗

Translation? Douma wants you to massage his pectorals

#pretty pls and ty

MUZAN

Once again, I’m presuming you’re a demon, and Muzan’s immediate reaction is to slice off your hands 💀

Thank gosh for regeneration! 😮‍💨

You’ve gotta quit surprising him 🤪

I mean

Yeah

He enjoys when you touch him 😅

BUT, he has a reputation to uphold, and being startled by your random displays of physical attention doesn’t exactly help 🙃

The implication that he lets his guard down w/ you (bc how else could you ever hope to genuinely startle him?) is making me feel things 😭

“Do that again, and I won’t be so forgiving.”

The faint dip between his brows has you thinking otherwise 🤭

“What if I ask first?” 😉

You’re treading on thin ice 😬

His eyes flash, “Pardon?”

Good thing he’s close to cracking too 😌

“If I ask to touch you?”

I’ll kill you “You wouldn’t.”

WeLp

He didn’t say No 🤗

(obvi consent’s a must, but in this specific context mutual flirtation’s strongly implied and also it’s literally Muzan)

“Oh!” <— Kyojuro exclaims, cheerful as ever ☺️

“Hello there,” he chuckles, smiling at the feeling of your body pressed against his back, “Are you checking something?”

“Mhm,” you grin, “They’re still here!” 😇

“My pectorals?” his head tilts, “Of course they are?!”

He’s ~a little oblivious, okay? 😃

“How about you hug me from the front?” he suggests gently, “That way I get to hug you too!”

😭😭😭

He’s so precious

How could you refuse?????

Spoiler alert: you can’t

GIVE THE MAN HIS HUG 🥺❤️‍🔥

Spoiler alert: you give Kyojuro his hug, and it is very cozy 🥰

A tad sweaty + suffocating, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world 🥺

Shocked 😵‍💫

Giyuu’s inner monologue: ????? What? Is? This?

Giyuu’s outer dialogue: *still as stone*

“Giyuu?” you immediately remove your hands, scurrying to his front side, head tilted w/ concern, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfort-” 😕

“You didn’t,” he interrupts quietly, finally grasping his bearings, “It was…” aaand now he’s blushing, “... nice.” 🥺☺️

Your nose scrunches, relief relaxing your shoulders as you nod sheepishly, “I’m glad I didn’t freak you out too much.”

“Mhm,” he smiles reassuringly, “You freaked me out,” gently guiding your palms back to his chest, “But not too much,” winking shyly at you, “The perfect amount, in fact.”

HELP !!!!! CAN YOU JUST CAN I  FWIBEIUVLNSOUEJGBWO;GNS

Suave, sexy, knows-what-he-wants, isn’t-afraid-to-tell-you, will-even-go-after-it-himself Giyuu has entered the chat

AnD I AM HERE FOR IT 😭😭😭💘

LOUD LAUGHTER

You can feel it through his tiddies 😆

“Envious, my dear?” 😉

Okay

Presumptuous much? 😒

But alllso 🙄

“If you could share…” you pout, “Gimme just a lil?” 🤗

“You’re welcome to work out with me,” he chuckles fondly, flexing for you, “These could totally be yours!”

You sigh, “Tengen, pectorals and breasts aren’t the same thing.”

“I know that,” he shrugs, patting your knuckles reassuringly, “Your breasts are perfect, and I’m happy to coach you and your pectorals if you so desire.”

You decide to test the waters 🌊

“What if my pectorals get bigger than yours?” 😏

Tengen immediately drowns you 🌊💀

“Not a chance.” 😐

And then he tacks on, a tad nicer, “But you could certainly get very big pectorals.” ☺️

“Just not bigger than yours,” you grin 😏

He nods grimly, “My ego would pop.” 😔

“And that would be tragic.” ☹️

“Indeed,” he squeezes your hands (which remain splayed across his chest), still basking in your touch, “I appreciate your understanding.” 😖🥰

(fyi, if your pectorals did get bigger than Tengen’s, then he’d: survive, be super proud of you, and beg to know your workout regimen)

[zombyjuice]

nights like this —- jj maybank. 🐶🪽🌸☀️

when jj has a crush on a kook but not just any kook.

season one jj i miss you. smut smut smut smut.

i haven’t written in so long wth !

playlist

—————————————————————————

“Mom! That's not fair; Kie gets to stay up all night with those boys, but I can’t have a simple sleepover with my friend." You huff, closing the refrigerator door. "Y/N I will figure that out later. That has nothing to do with this; remember you're grounded." You roll your eyes. “Oh my gosh, that’s ridiculous mom, so what? I brought in a stray cat...”

“and dog, bird, oh yeah, and a SPIDER too, you know I’m scared of those,” she frowns and lowers her tone at the end; you stifle a laugh. “Also that piercing.” Your smile fades away quickly. “It’s a nose piercing! Be glad I didn’t get the lip ... yet. Your mom coughs on her water a bit and slaps your head. “Go. Go!” 

“gladly” throwing your hands in the air and rushing to leave the house bumping into no other than kiera “your introublee” you push past her and she huffs getting prepared for her mothers nagging voice.

You and Kie are twins yet almost nothing alike. Kie is the “stronger one.” She’s louder and more outspoken than you, more chaotic, and not as friendly but caring and kind just like you. You’ve always been a calm, peaceful, gentle soul, bubbly and sweet, feeling everything to the core and loving deeply and strongly, quick to stand up for your friend and not yourself, but as you grow, you find your voice more and more. You both have a little bit of each other.

jj had a thing for kie, but it was more like he had a thing for a lot of girls and especially you, well, mostly you. He tried not to since, unlike Kie, you hung out with the Kooks, and to them, it seemed like the kook year Kie experienced, you got stuck in, and, well, we know how JJ feels about the Kooks, but gosh … he couldn’t help it.

He noticed things about you that typically other people would point out as weird, at least to the people of Outer Banks, but JJ would say it’s different, a breath of fresh air even. You had pretty, dyed, curly hair and somewhat fair skin that’s always sun-kissed and the prettiest makeup that made your puppy eyes pop, and he noticed the way each piece of jewelry or how you did your makeup was an expression of you on the inside and matched or complimented you perfectly, almost like everything you wore was meant and made particularly for you; he noticed how everything depicted a phase in your life, whether good or bad, and he noticed you even had a palette: teals, greens, yellows, and what suited you the most, pink. You had different pieces of clothes; he could tell you didn’t shop where the rest of the kooks shopped, and he loved your staple piece, your short shorts, and everything hugged you so well. to say the least, he noticed things he had never noticed in anybody. He became so detail-oriented, and he couldn’t understand why he noticed everything about your beautiful, soft soul. 

“Oh, J, hey, you smile softly, waving at no other than JJ. “Hey, princess, still too cool for us?” He smiles smugly, taking his hat off. “Pft, shut up. What are you doing here?” You eye him while you continue to walk, him following closely behind. “Yeah, you know, I just came to drop off your sister, fulfilling my duties as soon-to-be boyfriend.” You raise your eyebrow at this and stop in your tracks, causing him to bump into you as well. “Damn—” 

“You? and Kiara? I thought she had, like, a thing for John B." You say, questioning his intentions, “Yeah, maybe. I dunno... Why do you care?" He rolls his eyes as if he won an argument you guys aren't even having; you chuckle and continue to walk with him at your side. “I don’t care! I’m just asking a question on the topic; I can’t ask a question? about my sister?” You nudge at his shoulder, and he smirks, staring down at you. “Yeah, whatever, princess.”

“so where are we going?” “i’m going away from you asshole.”

—-

“Hey Dad, hey Mom, where’s Kie?” You sigh, putting everything on the counters and going to give them kisses on the cheek. “In her room getting ready… She’s punished, and she has to bring you to hang out with those pogues.” You cringe. “Wow, what a great punishment! and Pogue's mom, really, what a dumb name. That’s just so dumb it makes me mad." You say quickly, making your mom chuckle, “Yeah, yeah.” 

You didn't mind this happening more often, and you're open to hanging out with anybody you like, Kie's friends, especially JJ. It's like you're a part of them but just not all the way, not willing to give up your friendships with certain people over a dumb name.

You make your way up the stairs and into your room, making sure to shout a quick “Hurry up!” to Kie in the process. In your room, you try and get yourself a little dolled up. You don’t want to admit it, but it’s for JJ. You wanted weird things when it came to him, like you wanted him to think you’re pretty or… take off your clothes, but that’s a different story. 

You found everything JJ did so interesting, and you always wanted to get to know him more, but more than ever, you felt connected with him, like he was a part of you. When you saw him, your heart softened, and you wanted to just kiss all his worries away. You could tell he was sad, but he brought light to whatever darkness he was around, just like you. 

You giggle thinking about his goofy antics and fix up your makeup and hair. putting it up and continuing everything else you put on a cute but comfy outfit with your favorite low-rise Converse with pink laces and spraying a perfume that smells almost of laundry detergent, your favorite smell.

and you leave and wait for Kie on the porch. As the door flung open, you start walking towards your bike and Kie in front of you. “Hey, uh, where are we going anyway?” and Kie looking strangely tense. smirks, “Keege time, baby.” She slaps on the bike and hops on.

You smile a bit and shrug. What happens, happens.

—-

You already know the drama that’s about to unfold, and maybe, just maybe, you're secretly excited. especially as a kook hanging out with her kook sister who’s hanging out with her Pogue friends.

“Okay, here we are; gimme your bike.” You gladly hand it over to her and start your walk to everyone. 

“Hey, is that Y/N?” John B ran up to you. “Wassup? Haven’t seen you in a while, dude. Come help; we’re just starting everything. C’mon, Kie!” 

You look behind him to see Pope waving and JJ stupidly saluting you; you try and hide your smile, making your way towards them. “Hey, Pope,” you say softly, giving him a hug. “Hi, Y/N, I’ve missed doing your work in class. You know you could really—” JJ lets out a loud sigh and throws his hat at Pope's head. “Dude! Leave me alone!” He grabs at his hat and throws it back, and you giggle. “Hi, asshole.” JJ looks up at you and puts his hat back on and stands up from the huge branch. “What’s up, princess?” he smiles smugly, shoving his hands into his pocket. “I like this top; he pinches at it, and it slaps back on top of your skin, strangely making you blush and your stomach turn just a bit. You swat his hand away. “I don’t care. "Don't touch me?” you say in a teasing voice; you made him laugh. “Can you shut up? stop talking?” He started down at you and shoved you playfully, letting a giggle out, then a shriek, when he threw you over his shoulder and started running towards the water. “JJ, I’m going to kill you!” 

“Can they stop flirting it’s disgusting.”

—-

As everyone started to pile up, the more looks started to notice you on the other side, including Sarah, who gives you a… strange look. You can tell what she wanted to say: ‘What are you doing there with them?’ but you ignore it, continuing to talk with Pope about stupid stuff. “Okay, so why did NASA switch from the water to the shitty space dude? There are aliens down there.” “Define an alien right now, Y/n.” 

—-

It got darker, and more people came and went, and you could sense something was about to go down with the way Topper came up to JJ. You turn around to say goodbye to some guest. You turn around again, and boom! Topper and JJ are pushing each other around, John B trying to get in the middle. “Shit... idiot.” 

You quickly stand up and rush to the area. John B. now taking a blow from Topper and another guy trying to shove JJ, “Hey… hey! Get off him! J, come on, stop it!” You grab him by the shoulder, and it took him a second, but he listens. Surprisingly, you dust him off and look up at him. worry and concern all over your face, “Don’t do that, JJ; you can get hurt or hurt someone else.” If it weren’t for the fight happening just right next to you, JJ would want to kiss you, but he had to ignore the butterflies and your loving look, and he had to watch John B and Topper fight, ready at any moment to jump in. You turn your attention to Sarah, who’s screaming her boyfriend's name, and it all happened so fast. JJ is over Topper with a gun to his head; your eyes widen. “how the hell does he have that?” “JJ, stop it!” “Can you check your psycho friend?” Sarah shouts at Kie, who’s now next to you, “Can you check your psycho boyfriend?” You shout back, “Yeah, he tried to drown him!” Kie screams, “JJ, let go of the gun!” 

—-

“So you mean to tell me you found a crash. went onto it. found a key. decides, "Hey, let us go to this random hotel the day after a hurricane," finds money! a gun! then finds out it is now a part of an open investigation! your dirty, sticky fingerprints all over the place! and THEN you bring out that same gun! around a whole bunch of kooks, JJ, are you kidding me? How dumb can you be?" You shove your face into your hands. "I really don't feel like being lectured right now. He was going to drown him, Y/N/N. What else could I have done?" You look at him with a straight face. “Literally anything else.” 

“Whatever, dude! It happened already. What do you want me to do? Hold on. Why do you even give a shit? 

It’s still dark out, and you're outside by the hammock, JJ sitting down on the ground and you standing in front of him. Everyone else went home, and John B is inside.

“I don’t know, JJ, maybe because I care about you.” Your tone softens. “That’s really stupid; you can get in a lot of trouble,” you say, looking down. He stands up and makes his way towards you, feeling the tensions rising already with each step. You look up. “You’re lucky you’re so likable; you would’ve been in juvie by now.” He smiles and looks down at you. “I’m likable?” His tone lowers, and that stupid smirk is on his face, his stare heavy and his pupils blown out. “Well, I’ve got nothing to lose, and you’re a part of this now, so it looks like we’re both going to have to be stupid.” 

“Yeah?” You look up; he couldn’t take those eyes you give him. “Yeahh…” He smirks and runs his hands through his fingers, seemingly getting ready to get serious. “I, uh, I’ve missed you, Y/n like a lot. I missed you coming by my house and, you know, helping me when, you know, my dad... Yeah, when I needed someone the most. no one has ever done that for me, so willingly and i don’t know, im not crazy right, cause man it feels like you barely know me but yet know everything and i just want to-”

And without thinking, you throw your arms around his shoulder and pull him into a soft yet passionate kiss, his arms grabbing at your hips, deepening the kiss, leaving you breathless with every pent-up emotion and tension, all in the kiss.

You pull back for a second, catching your breath, his pretty eyes scanning your face. “You okay?” He asks softly, “Yeah,” you say back, taking a moment, his eyes on yours, and you blush. “I really like you a lot,” his eyes and his heart soften, but there’s this feeling of fear as well. “Me too.” And he quickly puts his lips back on yours; this time the kiss is more rough, leaving you breathless. Grabbing at your thighs, he swiftly lifts you up and carries you toward The Chateau. and straight into John B's spare room, laying you down on the bed, continuing the rough kisses, leaving you a whimpering mess.

“Mm, you're so pretty, princess. He lifts your leg up so it’s hanging by his side, and he slowly grinds his hips into yours; you let out a strangled moan into the kiss. “Shit.” 

The window was slightly open, so the cold breeze of the night filled the room's air, cooling you guys down as JJ filled you up to the brim, the moon's light shining just enough so he could see the pretty faces you make with each slow and long thrust. His head goes down to your neck while he whimpers so softly, fighting back the urge to say the three most beautiful words he could only show it as fucks any bad feeling out of you. "Fuck, baby, look at you." 

"What a mess." His thrusts started to become rougher yet still slow, the sound of his skin slapping yours, wet and juicy. You tried to keep quiet, but he fucked you so good you couldn't even think, "Mmph, I can't take it, JJ, too good." You let out with a squeak as he got rougher and rougher, grabbing at your face and kissing you nice and slow. It all was so passionate your heart fluttered with every movement. You could tell the love and care he put into everything; you felt seen; you felt loved. 

"Yeah, baby? You like that? Come on, be good for me, cum." 

You let out a series of the cutest moans he's ever heard. and he felt you make a mess all over his dick as he fucked into you faster. 

"Good girl, baby, good fucking girl," he moans as he pulls out and cums all over your stomach; you whimper, feeling shy. "Come here; do you want more?" He lifted your jaw up to look up at him and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You nodded, "Yeah? You want more?" His smile widened. "Come here." 

He turns around so you're on your stomach but still somewhat on your side; he wants to be able to hit every spot. "Fuck, you look so good; look at that ass, princess." He slaps your ass, not too hard but enough to get you red; you squeal. "Please, JJ, please," you cry, just dumb on his dick; that's all you want.

He doesn't say anything or warn you; he just starts to fuck into you hard and fast. causing a string of cries and moans, "Fuck, look at you. I love seeing you like this, baby."

It was sloppy, and he was quick, but the tempo slowed down, and he grabbed at your hips, slowly letting you bounce on his pretty dick, watching your ass giggle with each bounce, and slowly letting you start to do it on your own. Watching you struggle turned him on in ways he couldn't explain. "We're going to go all night, princess, all night."